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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..405efc6 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63992 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63992) diff --git a/old/63992-0.txt b/old/63992-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2ddb284..0000000 --- a/old/63992-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4508 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Real Fairy Folk, by Louise Jamison - -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 Real Fairy Folk - -Author: Louise Jamison - -Illustrator: James M. Gleeson - -Release Date: December 8, 2020 [EBook #63992] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REAL FAIRY FOLK *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, Mary Glenn Krause, Charlene -Taylor, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - -[Illustration] - - THE REAL FAIRY FOLK - - -[Illustration: “‘I FEEL THE WIND,’ CRIED RUTH, WITH BRIGHT EYES. ‘DEAR -VOICE, ARE YOU THE WIND?’”] - - - - - _THE - Real Fairy Folk_ - - - _BY - LOUISE JAMISON_ - - _ILLUSTRATED - BY - JAMES M. GLEESON_ - -[Illustration] - - _NEW YORK_ _GARDEN CITY, N. Y._ - _DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY_ - - _MCMXII_ - - - - - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN - LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN - - COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY - -[Illustration] - - THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y. - - - - - _To my Mother and Father this little book is lovingly dedicated_ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -[Illustration] - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. In the Old Willow Tree 3 - - II. Two Funny Gentlemen and What They Said 13 - - III. Ruth and the Wonderful Spinners 33 - - IV. Mrs. Mosquito and Her Kin 51 - - V. Ruth Hears About Some Water Babies 64 - - VI. Ruth Goes to a Concert 82 - - VII. Ruth Meets All Sorts and Conditions 100 - - VIII. Mrs. Tumble Bug and Others 118 - - IX. Little Mischief Makers 134 - - X. Some Queer Little People 148 - - XI. Wise Folks and Fiery Ones 159 - - XII. The Honey Makers 180 - - XIII. The Most Beautiful of All 197 - - XIV. Real Fairies 212 - -[Illustration] - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - - “‘I feel the wind,’ cried Ruth, with bright eyes. ‘Dear - voice, are you the Wind?’” _Frontispiece_ - - PAGE - “‘Sometimes it seems as if it must be Fairyland all - around, only I’m deaf’” 8 - - “Ruth, holding Belinda tightly, drew close to the edge - of the brook” 14 - - “‘How’s that?’ and with a splash a big green and brown - frog landed on the stone at her feet” 15 - - “‘I am a frog, of course, but my family name is Rana’” 16 - - “That nice fat toad in the garden” 18 - - “‘I didn’t move, but my tongue _did_’” 19 - - “‘I was soon swimming about with a lot of other tads, - slapping tails, and having all kinds of fun’” 23 - - “A loud splash and Mr. Rana’s long legs disappeared in - the brook” 24 - - “‘I’m right over here in the shade’” 25 - - “‘The mother spins the cocoon of silk from her own - body’” 38 - - “‘Why, it’s Daddy Long Legs’” 46 - - “‘I made one of these pits and in the funnel end I lay - in wait for ants’” 76 - - The wise grasshopper 88 - - “‘My friends, there are ants and ants’” 160 - - “‘Then there are ants who keep slaves’” 162 - - “‘Then there are ants who cut pieces from green leaves - and carry them as parasols’” 163 - - The house of the mound-builder ant 165 - - “Vespa Maculata” 170 - - The Queen Bee and her bodyguard of drones 187 - - “‘Smart children, aren’t they?’ asked some moths” 203 - - “‘I am the moon moth, the Luna’” 213 - - - - -[Illustration] - - THE REAL FAIRY FOLK - - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER I - IN THE OLD WILLOW TREE - - He prayeth best who loveth best - All things both great and small. - —_Coleridge._ - - -Ruth climbed to her favourite perch in the old willow tree, and settled -Belinda in a crotch beside her. - -“Now,” she said, drawing a long breath, “we will be cool and comfy.” - -Certainly if there was a cool spot to be found on this hot August -morning it was in the shade of this big willow. - -“Her very own tree,” as Ruth always called it, for, since she could -climb at all, she had loved to sit among its drooping branches and hear -the leaves whispering together the wonderful things, which she knew they -were telling each other, even though she could not understand them. - -Then, too, she could look down into the brook, and watch the doings of -the queer little people who made their home there. - -These, like all the tiny folk of the outdoor world, were a source of -never-failing interest and wonder. - -In their company, Ruth was never lonely, even though she had neither -brother nor sister, nor indeed any little boy or girl to play with. - -Still it would be so much nicer if she could only talk to the bugs and -things. There were such lots of questions she wanted to ask them. - -How she did wish that the funny old tumble bugs would stop rolling their -ball, and tell her all about it. They never did, though. They just kept -at that ball as though it was the most important thing in the world. - -Then she wanted to know what the bees whispered to the flowers as they -buzzed above them, and whether the butterflies spoke to each other as -they flew by in the sunshine. - -There were the ants, too, always so busy, and in such a hurry. How fast -they could run when any one upset their nest; and how funny they looked -carrying those queer white bundles. - -Mother had called these bundles the ants’ babies, but Ruth thought them -very odd babies, and she wondered if they had to be fed and bathed and -put to sleep like human babies. - -She wanted to know all about them, and about the spiders too, and their -wonderful webs. - -“Just think what a chance Miss Muffet had,” she said to Belinda, when -both were settled to her satisfaction in the willow-tree perch. “Only a -very friendly spider would come up and sit down by you, and who knows -the interesting things it could tell. The idea of being afraid of a -spider anyhow! You might as well be afraid of that funny old toad in the -garden, and I don’t believe he could hurt you if he tried. I guess he -doesn’t do anything but sleep.” - -Ruth had been trying to talk to the toad that very morning. He had -looked so solemn and so wise as he sat under the shade of a big stone in -the damp corner of the garden, “but,” as she said, “he wasn’t any good -at all,” for he only looked at her, then drew a film over his eyes, and -went on swallowing very hard. - -“He can talk, though, I know,” she said to Belinda. “They can all talk -in their way. It sounds like noise to us, because we can’t understand. -Do hear them, Belinda? What are they saying?” - -But of course Belinda could not answer. She never said more than “mama,” -in a very squeaky voice, and you had to squeeze her ever so hard to make -her do that. - -Ruth sighed softly, then, leaning forward with her elbow propped on her -knee, and her chin resting in the palm of her hand, she listened to the -flood of sound about her; the hum and buzz that came from garden and -orchard, from field and meadow; thousands of tiny voices, rising and -falling and rising again, as they told their fascinating life stories, -from every leaf and twig and grass blade. - -“They are talking just as fast as they can,” Ruth said again, “but I -don’t know what they are saying. Oh! if I only did. Why don’t people -learn their language instead of German and French and lots of other old -things that aren’t any good? It would be ever so much nicer, and they -could find out so many wonderful things, couldn’t they, Belinda?” - -But, as usual, Belinda only stared at Ruth, and said nothing. - -[Illustration: “‘SOMETIMES IT SEEMS AS IF IT MUST BE FAIRYLAND ALL -AROUND, ONLY I’M DEAF’”] - -“Oh, dear,” said Ruth, “if you were only alive, and could tell me -things, you’d be ever so much more interesting, but then maybe,” she -added, thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t understand you any better than I do -them. Maybe doll language is different too. It is all so puzzling. -Sometimes it seems as if it must be Fairyland all around, only I’m deaf. -I wonder if there’s a word that lets you in so you can know about -things, like ‘Open Sesame’ in ‘The Forty Thieves.’ Oh, Belinda, do you -think there is?” And Ruth clasped her hands together at the very -thought. “But we can’t find it out,” she added, more soberly, “and so it -wouldn’t be any use.” - -“Watch and listen! Watch and listen!” said a voice so close to her ear -that Ruth jumped, and nearly fell to the ground. - -She looked about her expectantly, but no one was in sight, either in the -tree or under it. - -“It is very queer,” she said. “You can’t talk, Belinda, and I don’t see -a single person anywhere.” - -“It is not so queer as you think,” the voice replied, as close to her -ear as before. “You cannot see me, but you can feel me.” - -A passing breeze had touched her cheek and was softly ruffling her hair. - -“I feel the wind,” cried Ruth, with bright eyes. “Dear voice, are you -the Wind? Why have you never talked to me before? If you only knew how I -have wanted some one to talk to me, and tell me things! People don’t -seem to like to answer questions. They haven’t time or something. But -you must know such a lot. The wind goes everywhere.” - -“Yes, I am a great traveller, but, child, the marvellous things are not -all far off. There is a wonderland right here at home, if one has the -eyes to see, the ears to hear, and the heart to feel and understand.” - -Ruth clapped her hands, and her eyes danced. - -“I knew it! I knew it!” she cried eagerly. “I told Belinda it was -Fairyland all around us; but, dear Wind,” she added, while a little -cloud filled her eyes, “I do see and hear lots of things, but I _can’t_ -understand, and I _do_ want to know all the whys and becauses. Won’t you -please, _please_ tell me?” - -“I may not do that, child,” was the answer, “for each thing speaks in -its own language, and will tell its own story to those who seek truly -and earnestly. You are a thoughtful child, and for that reason it will -be given to you to know those things which you most desire to learn. -Only remember, ‘Watch and be patient,’ and never forget the password -‘Brotherhood,’ for even the lowest creature has some rights to be -respected.” - -The breeze passed on, softly singing through the willow branches, but -Ruth sat without moving, her eyes wide with eager wonder. - -“I didn’t dream it,” she said at last in an awed little whisper. “It was -as real as anything could be that you couldn’t see. I suppose -‘brotherhood’ means not to be unkind or cruel to things. Oh, Belinda, -just think of it: hearing what they say, the bees and the butterflies -and the dear little crickets and funny old grasshoppers,” and she -snatched Belinda to her and hugged her tight. “It will be harder than -ever to go into the house now, won’t it?” she finished soberly. Then she -sat for a few minutes thinking, very quiet, but very happy. - -“Kerchug—kerchug—kerchug,” called a voice from the brook, and Ruth -started so suddenly she nearly dropped Belinda, and caught a branch just -in time to keep herself from falling. - -“Gracious,” she said, “how that scared me. I do believe it was that big -green and brown frog. See him down there, Belinda? He is just showing -his head and his funny eyes out of the water. Let’s get down close to -him, and maybe he’ll come out all the way.” - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER II - TWO FUNNY GENTLEMEN AND WHAT THEY SAID - - Nothing useless is or low. - —_Tennyson._ - - -“To be sure I’ll come out,” answered a croaky voice, as Ruth, holding -Belinda tightly, drew close to the edge of the brook. “How’s that?” and -with a splash a big green and brown frog landed on the stone at her -feet. - -“Now,” he added, swelling out his white vest with an air of importance, -“I am a frog, of course, but my family name is Rana. Please don’t forget -it.” - -[Illustration: “RUTH, HOLDING BELINDA TIGHTLY, DREW CLOSE TO THE EDGE OF -THE BROOK”] - -“Family name?” said Ruth, sitting down on the edge of the stone. “I -didn’t know frogs had family names.” - -“There’s a great deal you don’t know,” said Mr. Rana, in his decided -way. - -[Illustration: “‘HOW’S THAT?’ AND WITH A SPLASH A BIG GREEN AND BROWN -FROG LANDED ON THE STONE AT HER FEET”] - -“Maybe there is,” agreed Ruth, “but it isn’t very polite to tell me so.” -Then, with a sudden thought, she added quickly, “Why, you are really -talking.” - -“Of course, I’m talking. Do you suppose it’s the first time?” - -[Illustration: “‘I AM A FROG, OF COURSE, BUT MY FAMILY NAME IS RANA’”] - -“He’s dreadfully snappy,” Ruth whispered to Belinda. - -“It isn’t my fault that people can’t understand,” finished Mr. Rana, -swallowing very fast. - -“I wanted to understand,” declared Ruth meekly. “I was sure you could -tell me such a lot of interesting things, and that nice fat toad in the -garden too. He is so——” - -“You’d better talk to the fat toad, then,” said Mr. Rana, looking very -cross. - -“Oh, dear,” sighed Ruth, “I didn’t mean I’d _rather_ talk to him. I do -want you to tell me things. All about yourself, please.” - -“Now you are showing your good sense,” said Mr. Rana, as Ruth settled -herself with a ready-to-listen air. “Nothing can be more interesting -than my story; but excuse me one second. I see Mrs. Mosquito. This -morning I ate her husband, and now——” - -His sentence was not finished, but Mrs. Mosquito was; and Mr. Rana -folded his hands across his fat stomach and looked at Ruth, while a big -smile played about his broad mouth. - -[Illustration: “THAT NICE FAT TOAD IN THE GARDEN”] - -“She’s gone,” said Ruth, in a slightly awed tone, “and I know you’ve -swallowed her, but I wish you would tell me how you did it. I didn’t see -you move.” - -[Illustration: “‘I DIDN’T MOVE, BUT MY TONGUE DID’”] - -“I didn’t move, but my tongue _did_, and it went so quick you couldn’t -see it. When you eat, you bring things to your tongue, but when I eat, I -send my tongue to my dinner. It’s a simpler way, I think. My tongue is -rather wonderful too. It is fastened to my mouth in front, and rolled -back; besides, it has a sort of glue on the end that catches whatever -there is to catch. The number of pests I eat in a day would astonish -you. Slugs, grubs, snails, mosquitoes, and—well, what’s the matter? You -don’t like such things, I suppose. Tastes differ, you see. Now, to tell -my story. What do you think I looked like when I was first hatched?” - -“A tadpole, of course,” answered Ruth. “I’ve seen lots of tadpoles. They -are funny, wiggly things.” - -“They _are_ lively fellows,” agreed Mr. Rana, swallowing several times, -while Ruth silently watched the sides of his neck puff out. - -“Please tell me why you swallow so much,” she asked at last. “You are -not eating, are you?” - -Mr. Rana smiled, and this time the smile went all around his mouth. - -“I swallow to breathe,” he answered. “I can’t swallow air while my mouth -is open, and so I stop talking and shut it. Every time I swallow, the -air sac on the side of my neck fills out. That’s why my voice has such a -lovely croak. My poor wife hasn’t any air sac, so her voice is never -croaky.” - -“But in the water——” began Ruth. - -“In the water,” answered Mr. Rana, “I take in air through my skin. It is -very porous. My skin I mean. It is really a pleasure to tell you things. -Now to get back to the beginning, being a tadpole, or, I should say, an -egg. Looking at me now, could you imagine that I was once a tiny egg? -It’s a fact, though. My mother laid her eggs near some water rushes, -and, as I said, these eggs were but tiny specks, black specks enclosed -in a gluey case, which the water made swell, until it looked like a mass -of jelly. I came from one of those specks, and I tell you I was a lively -fellow when I was first hatched. Some people say tadpoles are all head -and tail, but there were other parts to me—places for legs, and I know I -had two eyes and a mouth. Of course I made the most of life. A whole -pond to circle in seemed a mighty big world to me, and I was soon -swimming about with a lot of other tads, slapping tails, and having all -kinds of fun. Indeed, we were always lively, especially when we were -trying to get away from those who wanted us for dinner. There were lots -of them too.” - -“Ugh!” said Ruth, screwing up her face. - -This displeased Mr. Rana. - -“A tadpole is very delicate eating,” he said. “You have never tasted -one, so you cannot judge; but let that pass. _I_ was not eaten, as you -can see for yourself.” - -“I am glad you were not,” said Ruth as Mr. Rana stopped to swallow some -air, “because then I shouldn’t have known you.” - -[Illustration: “‘I WAS SOON SWIMMING ABOUT WITH A LOT OF OTHER TADS, -SLAPPING TAILS, AND HAVING ALL KINDS OF FUN’”] - -“Well, that’s a fact. Now let me see what comes next. Oh, yes—my legs. -Legs, you must know, are very important affairs to a tadpole, because -when he gets them he isn’t a tadpole any more; so you may be sure I was -happy when I saw mine beginning to grow. At the same time, my tail -became shorter and shorter, until at last I had none at all. I was -really and truly a frog. After this I was not obliged to stay in the -water all the time. I had lungs and could breathe air.” - -[Illustration: “A LOUD SPLASH AND MR. RANA’S LONG LEGS DISAPPEARED IN -THE BROOK”] - -“But you do go in sometimes,” said Ruth. “I’ve seen you.” - -“Of course I do,” agreed Mr. Rana. “I must keep my skin wet, and that -reminds me it’s pretty dry now, so I will have to leave you. Good-by for -the present.” And before Ruth could say a word there was a loud splash -and Mr. Rana’s long legs disappeared in the brook. - -[Illustration: “‘I’M RIGHT OVER HERE IN THE SHADE’”] - -“Oh, dear, he’s gone!” sighed Ruth. - -“Yes, and good riddance,” croaked a voice that was not Mr. Rana’s. - -Ruth looked around quickly. - -“It’s nice having things talk to you,” she said, “but it keeps you -jumping.” - -“Use your eyes, and you wouldn’t have to jump,” went on the same voice. -“I’m right over here in the shade. My blood’s cold, and I can’t stand -the hot sun.” - -It was her friend the garden toad. Ruth could see him plainly now. He -looked more puffy than ever, as he sat under the bushes, swelling his -leathery throat with importance. “If my cousin can talk to you I guess I -can too,” he added. “I’m Mr. Bufo, and I’m quite as interesting as he -is.” - -Ruth was only too willing to agree to this, though, as she whispered to -Belinda, she thought frogs and toads had very good opinions of -themselves. - -“I have a wife,” croaked Mr. Bufo when Ruth had sat herself on the -ground close to him, “a worrying wife. Do you know it’s a bad thing to -have a worrying wife?” - -Ruth didn’t know, but she nodded her head in agreement. - -“A bad thing,” repeated Mr. Bufo. “In the Spring, after Mrs. Bufo had -laid her eggs, she gave me no peace. Of course, like all toads, she laid -them in the water, but, instead of being reasonable about it, she was -always asking me how she was to know them from the eggs Mrs. Rana and -Mrs. Urodillo had laid. Theirs were in the water too.” - -“Please, who is Mrs. Urodillo?” asked Ruth. “I know Mrs. Rana is a -frog.” - -“Mrs. Urodillo is a water salamander,” answered Mr. Bufo, not over -pleased at being interrupted. “Now where was I? Oh, yes. Mrs. Bufo was -afraid she wouldn’t know her own eggs. Well, I tried to argue with her.” - -“‘Didn’t you lay yours in double strings?’ I asked, ‘and didn’t you with -motherly care enclose them in thin but strong tubes?’ Of course she -couldn’t deny it. ‘But I won’t know my own tadpoles,’ she kept -insisting.” - -“No wonder she was worried,” said Ruth. “Any one would want to know -their own babies.” - -“Mothers in our family never do,” declared Mr. Bufo. “They lay their -eggs, and that’s the end of it. Mrs. Bufo knew that as well as I did. -She only wanted something to worry about. All tadpoles are pretty much -alike to begin with, but they don’t end alike. Toad egg tads always grow -into toads; frog egg tads become frogs, and salamander egg tads will be -salamanders and nothing else.” - -All the while he talked Mr. Bufo had stopped every little while to -swallow, not only air, but whatever in the way of insects came within -his reach. So of course Ruth saw his tongue. - -“Your tongue is just like Mr. Rana’s,” she said, after watching it for a -few seconds. - -“Our tongues may be alike,” agreed Mr. Bufo, “but there’s a vast -difference in our legs. His are too long for any use, and his skin is so -horribly smooth it gives me the shivers just to look at it. Of course I -know I am not handsome, and that reminds me of some lines that have been -written about me. Want to hear them?” - -Then without waiting for an answer he swallowed some air and began: - - “I’m a clumsy, awkward toad, - And I hop along the road; - ’Tis the only way we toads can well meander; - While in yonder marshy bog - Leaps my relative the frog, - Very near my aunt, the water Salamander. - - “And if you should ever stray - Near a slimy pool some day, - And along its grassy margin chance to loiter. - Do not pass it idly by, - For it is the spot where I - Was born a lively tadpole in the water. - - “I’m a homely, harmless thing; - I catch insects on the wing, - And in this I serve you all; it is my duty. - And now tell me which is best, - To be useless and well dressed, - Or useful, even though I am no beauty?” - -Mr. Bufo had scarcely finished, when his mate hopped out from some -nearby bushes. - -“I’d be ashamed,” she said, in a very puffy voice, “to sit there -repeating that lovely poetry, with such shabby clothes as yours are. How -many more times must I tell you to change them?” - -“It doesn’t matter about his clothes,” said Ruth. “I think it is so -lovely to hear him talk.” - -“You haven’t heard him as often as I have,” puffed Mrs. Bufo, hopping -almost into Ruth’s lap. “Besides, his clothes are a disgrace. They are -not only faded and dull, but they are actually beginning to split up the -back.” - -“Are they?” croaked Mr. Bufo meekly. - -Then he drew a film over his eyes and pretended to be asleep. - -“Now look here,” said Mrs. Bufo, “you can’t deceive me. That is only -your third eyelid. You are not asleep. Now do get off those old -clothes.” - -“Well, if I must, I must,” croaked Mr. Bufo, hopping away. - -“There, I’ve made him do it at last,” puffed Mrs. Bufo, swallowing a -passing fly. “It’s a hard job, and I don’t blame him for getting out of -it as long as possible. He has to twist and turn, and use first one leg -and then another, until he is quite free from his old suit, and then, -tired as he is, he must eat it.” - -“Eat it?” repeated Ruth, screwing up her face. - -“Yes, eat it, and not a tooth to chew with either. I can’t see why we -haven’t teeth like those horrid frogs, though, to tell the truth, theirs -are no good for chewing. They only have them in their upper jaws, and -they point backward, too, like fish teeth. I can’t see that they help -much in chewing, but they do help to hold what the frog wishes to -swallow, and, after all, we toads and frogs are swallowers rather than -chewers.” - -As she spoke, several flies went to prove her words. - -“Yes,” she added with a big puff, which Ruth took for a sigh, “we have -our troubles and worries from early Spring, when we leave our holes, -where we sleep all Winter, to the time when frost drives us into our -holes again, and no one seems to think about the work we do. The garden -couldn’t have a better friend, for the bugs and harmful insects we eat -can’t be counted. Well, there’s no use talking this way. I must go to -Mr. Bufo. He’ll need some cheering up, I’m sure. One good thing, he -won’t have to make his new suit. He’ll find it all ready under his old -one.” - -“Well, she does think of him, anyhow,” thought Ruth as Mrs. Bufo hopped -away. “I hope she will talk to me again some day.” - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER III - RUTH AND THE WONDERFUL SPINNERS - - She throws a web upon the air and soon - ’Tis caught and lifted by the willing breezes, - Then, freed from trouble in her light balloon, - Our spinner travels wheresoe’re she pleases. - —_Edith M. Thomas._ - - -Ruth was in the garden counting colours among the hollyhocks when a -little breeze hurried by. - -“Come,” it said, kissing her cheek, “and hurry; things are going to -happen.” - -“It is my dear Wind,” cried Ruth, her eyes growing big with expectation, -and, stopping just long enough to snatch up Belinda, who of course would -wish to go, too, she followed where the little breeze led. - -This was to a lovely spot on the edge of the wood, and one of the first -things she saw was a big round spider’s web on the branches of a tall -bush. - -“Oh,” she said, going up closer, “who would ever think a spider could -make anything like that?” - -“Indeed,” said a voice which made her give a little jump, “who else but -a spider could spin a web, I’d like to know? You haven’t any brains, I’m -thinking.” - -“Oh, please excuse me,” said Ruth. “I didn’t know you were there.” - -“That’s because you don’t use your eyes properly,” was the answer of the -large, handsome black and gold spider hanging head down from the centre -of the big web. - -Her eight long, slender legs were outstretched and rested by their tips -on the bases of the taut radii, and her eight eyes were staring at Ruth. - -“I saw you as soon as you came,” she said. - -“I suppose you will stay to the meeting. I’m to be chair-spider.” - -“Chair-spider?” repeated Ruth, slightly confused by those eight bright -eyes. “And please, what meeting?” - -“Why, our meeting, of course. Mrs. Cobweb Weaver says men always have a -chairman at their meetings, so why shouldn’t spiders have a -chair-spider, I’d like to know?” - -“I suppose they should,” agreed Ruth. - -“Of course we should. Considering you are a human creature, with only -two eyes, two legs, and no spinnerets, you really show a great deal of -sense. Now sit down on the crotch of that little tree, then you will be -near me and can hear all I say. What’s that thing you are carrying?” - -“Why, it’s Belinda, my doll,” explained Ruth. “I tell her everything. I -think she will like your—your—meeting.” - -“Well, I don’t care whether she does or not,” said Madame Spider. “Now -our friends are arriving, and as you can see, with even two eyes, they -are all shapes and sizes. Long legged, short legged, plump, thin, grave -and gay. All colours too—quite enough to satisfy any taste, I should -say.” - -Ruth looked about her in wide-eyed astonishment. - -“I never knew there were so many kinds of spiders,” she said at last, -“or that they had such lovely colours. I thought spiders were mostly -grayish or brownish.” - -“That is because you haven’t used your eyes, as I said before; but you -are only like others of your kind. Such ignorance! Because some spiders -are dull and colourless, most people imagine that all are so. I suppose -they think, if they stop to think at all, that all kinds of webs are -spun by the same kind of spider, and that all spiders spin webs.” - -“Don’t they?” asked Ruth, with some hesitation, for Mrs. Spider’s -indignation made her look quite fierce. - -“They do _not_,” was the decided answer. “All spiders are spinners, but -not all are web makers.” - -Ruth looked puzzled. - -“You see,” explained Mrs. Spider, “it all depends upon the way they -catch their prey. Spider habits are as different as their looks. Some -like the sun, others prefer the shade. Some live in the forest, and -others with the house people. Many make their home in the bark of trees, -and under stones.” - -“I’ve seen that kind,” interrupted Ruth, eagerly, “and when you lift up -the stone they run awfully fast. Sometimes they have a funny little gray -bundle, just as the ants carry their babies. Maybe it’s their babies -too. Is it?” - -“Well, they will be babies if nothing happens. Those gray bundles are -cocoons full of eggs. The mother spins the cocoon of silk from her own -body.” - -“Oh, now, I understand. They are spinners, but they don’t have any web. -Isn’t that it?” - -“Exactly. They do not need a web. They spring on their prey when the -prey isn’t looking. We call them hunters, also runners.” - -“Well, they _can_ run,” said Ruth. - -[Illustration: “‘THE MOTHER SPINS THE COCOON OF SILK FROM HER OWN -BODY’”] - -“The flower spiders are not web spinners either,” went on Madame Spider, -who seemed to like nothing better than to talk. “They live among -flowers, and eat the visiting insects. You can see some of them over -there. Talk about colours! They are gay enough, just like flowers -themselves. Perhaps you can guess why.” - -Ruth thought a few minutes. - -“Well,” she said, “if they were the same colour as the flower they -couldn’t be seen so easily. I saw something walk out of an ear of corn -once, and it looked like a kernel of corn on eight legs. It was awful -funny. Was that a spider?” - -“Very likely. We are wonderful enough for anything. I suppose you have -never heard of the trapdoor spider and his silk-lined burrow, with its -little hinged door, nor of the spider who lives under the water, in a -tiny silken house, which she spins herself, and fills with air carried -down, bubble by bubble, from the surface. Don’t look as though you -didn’t believe me. It isn’t polite. I am telling you the truth. Very -likely you’ll doubt me when I say that we sail in balloons, of our own -making, and cross streams of water on bridges, which we can fashion as -we need them—that is, we orb weavers do, for, after all, we stand at the -head of the spider clan. Did you know I was an orb weaver?” - -“I—I—haven’t thought about it,” said Ruth, slowly, for the question had -come very suddenly, “but I’d like you to go on telling me things. Do you -always hang with your head down? I should think it would make you -dizzy.” - -“Dizzy? Whoever heard of such a thing? Of course I keep my head down, -and my toes on my telegraph lines. Then I can feel the least tremble in -any one of them, and I’m pretty quick to run where I know my dinner is -waiting. Sometimes I don’t hurry quite so fast. That is when the line -trembles in a way which lets me know that something big has been caught. -Indeed, there are times when I bite the threads around what might have -been my dinner, and let it go; for it is wiser to lose a meal than run -the chance of being a meal.” And Mrs. Orb Weaver winked, not with one -eye only, but with all eight. “Now it is time to talk to the company,” -she added, “as I am chair-spider.” - -She said the last words in a loud voice, intended for all to hear; then -she looked around to see if any one objected. - -“They had better not,” she said to Ruth, and in a louder voice, added: -“My friends, we are not appreciated. Men talk about the wonderful bees, -the wonderful wasps, the wonderful ants, but few of them say anything -about the wonderful spiders. Now we are wonderful, too, and we are -honest, and we are industrious. We eat flies and lots of other pests, -and we do not hurt orchards, or steal into pantries, or chew up clothes. -Indeed, we do man no harm at all. But is he grateful? Tell me that. I’ll -tell you he isn’t. Ask Mrs. Cobweb Weaver if there isn’t always some -broom sweeping down the nice web she makes. I wonder she doesn’t hate a -broom. No, my friends, man is not grateful. Even those who call -themselves our friends are ready to pop us into bottles, or boxes, -whenever they get a chance. They give us what they call a painless death -in the cause of science. Now we would rather live in our own cause. At -least I would.” - -Mrs. Orb Weaver had become so excited that her whole web was shaking -violently. - -Ruth was excited, too. - -“It’s rather horrid to do that way,” she said, “but maybe people don’t -know about you. I didn’t until to-day. The wonderful things I mean, and -I want to know lots more. How your web is made and—and—everything. -Please tell me.” - -“Why, certainly,” answered Mrs. Orb Weaver readily. “To begin with, my -web is made of silk.” - -“Who didn’t know that?” snapped a running spider. - -“I didn’t,” answered Ruth. - -“You! And who are you, pray?” - -“Be quiet,” commanded Mrs. Orb Weaver. “She is my guest, and anything -she wishes to know I shall be happy to tell her. Now, to get on, our -webs are made of silk, and the silk comes from our own bodies, through -little tubes called spinnerets. It is soft at first, but gets harder -when it reaches the air, just like caterpillar silk. We guide each -thread with our hind feet, making heavier strands by twisting a number -of fine ones together. Of course, we spin the foundation lines first. -They are the ones which fix the web to the bush. Then the ray lines, -those like the spokes in a wheel. They are all heavy strands, and only -after they are finished do we spin the real snare, the lines which run -around. They are very fine, and are covered with a sort of glue, for -they have to catch and hold the flies and other insects that come on the -web. We orb weavers are the only ones who have this glue. No other -spiders use it. They trust to the meshes of the web to entangle their -prey.” - -“But why don’t the sticky parts catch you too?” asked Ruth, who had been -listening with eager attention. “I’ve seen you run all over your web -and——” - -“We never get caught. Of course not,” finished Mrs. Orb Weaver. “And -why? That’s a question. The wise men don’t know, and if we do, we are -not telling. Now I am getting hungry, so I think I will tell a little -story, then we will adjourn. I am sorry there isn’t time for Mrs. Funnel -Weaver to speak.” - -“But there is,” declared a large brown spider, whose body looked as -though it were set on a framework of legs. “I mean to speak too—if only -to point out all those webs in the grass.” - -“Oh, I’ve often seen webs like that,” said Ruth. “They are lovely with -dew on them. But why do you call yourself a funnel weaver?” - -“I don’t!” she snapped. “The men, who think they know everything, gave -me that name, because at one side of my web is a funnel-shaped tube. It -is our way to escape our enemies. We run through it into the grass when -something too big for us to manage gets into our web.” - -“I generally make my web in houses,” said a small, slender-legged, -light-coloured spider. - -She spoke in a hurry, as though she was afraid some one might stop her -before she finished. “I have cousins who like fields and fences and -outbuildings, but our webs are all the same pattern. Not so regular as -yours, Mrs. Orb Weaver, but very fine and delicate.” - -“Oh, everybody knows you, Mrs. Cobweb Weaver,” said a voice from a -nearby twig. “Now if you are speaking of legs——” - -“We are not,” answered Mrs. Orb Weaver, “and I should like to know how -you came here.” - -“On my legs of course. Don’t you think they are long enough? And though -I can neither spin nor weave, I am your relation, and I have as much -right to be here as you have. I——” - -“Why, it’s Daddy Long Legs,” interrupted Ruth, with a friendly smile of -recognition. “I like daddies.” - -“Well, I am not saying anything about my legs,” remarked a fat little -spider, as Daddy tried to bow to Ruth, “though I have eight of them. I -usually travel in a balloon, which I make myself. Oh, I tell you, it is -fine to go - - “Sailing mid the golden air - In skiffs of yielding gossamer.” - -[Illustration: “‘WHY, IT’S DADDY LONG LEGS’”] - -“Poetry,” said a handsome spider, wheeling back and forth on a silken -bridge swung between two bushes. “I could have learned some too, but I -didn’t know it was allowed. Of course I can build bridges. Who is asking -that idiotic question? You?” And eight glaring eyes were fixed upon -Ruth. “Maybe you don’t know that spiders were the first bridge builders -and when men suspend their great bridges to-day they follow our ideas -and ways, without giving us the least credit; but that’s the way with -men.” - -“Well, we can’t expect to regulate men,” answered Mrs. Orb Weaver, “and, -besides, it’s time to tell my story, and then you will know why we get -our name, and why we are such wonderful spinners. Now listen, all of -you: - -“Once upon a time——” - -Ruth chuckled contentedly. All nice stories began, “Once upon a time.” -“Please go on,” she whispered eagerly. - -“Then don’t interrupt me,” said Mrs. Orb Weaver, and she began again: - -“Once upon a time, ever so long ago, there lived in a beautiful land -called Greece a maiden named Arachne. Arachne was not only fair to look -upon, but she could also spin and weave in a fashion so wondrously fine -that all who saw her work said that the great Athena herself must have -been her teacher. Now this surely was praise enough, but Arachne was -vain. ‘Nay,’ she said, ‘no one has taught me, and gladly will I weave -with the great goddess herself, and thus prove the skill to be all my -own.’ Her words only shocked all who heard them, but Arachne cared not, -and again repeated her wish to try her skill with Athena. - -“So it happened that as she sat spinning one day an old woman, leaning -on a staff, stopped by her loom. - -“‘Child,’ she said in a gentle voice, ‘a great gift is yours.’ - -“Arachne tossed her head, and answered scornfully: - -“‘Well do I know it, yet Athena dares not try her skill with mine.’ - -“‘Dares not?’ repeated the old dame, in tones that should have made -Arachne tremble. ‘Dares not, say you? Foolish maiden, be warned in -time.’ - -“But Arachne was too proud to yield, and she still persisted, even -though the old dame had dropped her mantle, and stood revealed as the -great goddess herself. - -“‘Be it so,’ said Athena, sternly, and both began to weave. - -“For hours their shuttles flew in and out. Arachne’s work was wonderful, -but for her theme she had chosen the weakness and the failure of the -gods. Athena pictured forth their greatness. The sky was her loom, and -from the rainbow she chose her colours, and when her work was finished -and its splendours spanned the heavens, Arachne realized that she had -failed. - -“Ashamed and miserable, she sought to hang herself in the meshes of her -web. - -“‘Nay, rash maid,’ spoke Athena; ‘thou shalt not die, but live to be the -mother of a great race, the most wonderful spinners on earth.’ - -“Even as Athena spoke, Arachne grew smaller and smaller, until not a -maiden, but a spider, hung from that marvellous web. - -“And now, my friends,” finished Mrs. Orb Weaver, “need I tell you that -we are the wonderful race of which Athena spoke, and need _I_ add that -we have inherited Arachne’s marvellous skill, and are truly the most -wonderful spinners on earth? Now I am hungry and the meeting is -adjourned.” - -“So am I,” added Daddy Long Legs, “not adjourned, but hungry, and, by -the way, do you imagine any one believes that old story?” - -He winked at Ruth, and then moved away as fast as his long legs would -carry him. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - CHAPTER IV - MRS. MOSQUITO AND HER KIN - - “Thou art welcome to the town, but why come here - To bleed a fellow poet gaunt like thee? - Alas! the little blood I have is dear, - And thin will be the banquet drawn from me.” - —_Bryant._ - - -“That horrid mosquito,” said Ruth, waking with a start, and slapping her -cheek. - -“Aha! you didn’t get me that time,” answered a thin, high-pitched voice! - -Ruth sat up. She had been asleep under the apple tree, but she was quite -awake now. - -“Where are you?” she asked, “and are you really talking?” - -“I seem to be,” answered the mosquito, “though you tried to finish me -just now. I bear no ill-will, though. I am quite used to being an -outlaw. What is more, I don’t intend to be any better. I shall go on -biting people as much as I please. I must have my meals as well as the -rest of the world. People seem to forget that fact.” - -“But just biting people——” began Ruth. - -“It isn’t just biting,” put in the mosquito. “It really isn’t biting at -all. I have a sharp little instrument to pierce the skin of the fellow I -choose for my dinner, and the best kind of sucking pump to pump up his -blood. That’s the way I get my meals. It is different with my mate. He -is a harmless sort of fellow. He can’t even sing, and he likes such baby -food as the nectar of flowers. Now tell me why I am different from other -insect musicians.” - -She fixed her big eyes on Ruth, who moved uneasily, and answered with -not a little hesitation: - -“I—I—really don’t know.” - -“I’m a female. That’s why. In all the orders, so far as I know, the -singers are males. Naturally I am proud of being an exception. Well, you -didn’t know that. Do you know why I don’t care for science?” - -“It is just like an examination,” thought Ruth, and again she answered. - -“I don’t know.” - -“Of course you don’t,” said Mrs. Mosquito. “Is there anything you _do_ -know? Well, I suppose I must tell you. I don’t care for science, because -it interferes too much. Once upon a time men were our friends. We not -only had nice juicy meals from them, but we had their rain barrels as -nurseries for our children. Of course, what they said about us, when we -came too near them, was not always complimentary, but a mosquito, -attending strictly to business, doesn’t mind a little thing like that. -But now come these fellows who know so much, or think they know so much. -We carry malaria, they say, whatever that is, and the rain barrel must -go, because it helps to breed mosquitoes. Not only that, these -interfering fellows seem to spend their time thinking up ways to finish -us. Well, I sting them every chance I get.” - -“But alas! the rain barrel is going. I was hatched in one of the few to -be found in these sad days. I was a lively baby, I can tell you. Young -mosquitoes are called wrigglers and, true to my name, I wriggled for all -I was worth. Now, when you know that my mother had laid something like -three hundred eggs, and all had hatched into wrigglers as lively as -myself, you can imagine the time there was in that old rain barrel.” - -“But why,” asked Ruth “are you called wrigglers when you are young, and -mosquitoes when you are grown up?” - -“Why are you called baby when you are born, girl when you are half -grown, and woman when you are quite grown?” replied Mrs. Mosquito, and -Ruth said no more. - -“Now,” went on Mrs. Mosquito, “I should like to tell you more about -wrigglers, how they stand on their heads and breathe with their tails, -and how they shed their skins when they become full-grown mosquitoes, -but I haven’t time. The others are coming.” - -“Others?” repeated Ruth. “What others?” - -“The members of the Diptera order of course,” answered Mrs. Mosquito, -with an important air. “You see, I found you sleeping under the tree and -I knew you wanted to learn about the things that are worth while, and as -we are very worth while, I sent a friend to tell all the members of our -order to meet in this spot.” - -“Exactly what that young mosquito told me,” said Mrs. Hessian Fly, -buzzing up excitedly. - -She was a dusky-winged creature, scarcely more than an eighth of an inch -long. - -“What is the Diptera anyhow?” - -“Why, you are one,” explained Mrs. Mosquito, with a superior smile. “It -is quite a tax to know things for everybody,” she said to Ruth, “but you -see I am around men so much I learn a great deal. I once attended a -meeting of the men who think themselves wise. I wasn’t invited, you -understand, but I went, and I attracted much attention too. Well, this -is what I heard: The audience will please listen, it concerns you all: - -“‘The members of the order Diptera have two gauzy wings and two -thread-like organs with knobs at the end in the place where most other -insects have a second pair of wings. Their mouth is framed for sucking, -and sometimes for piercing. Only a few make cocoons. Their larvæ are -called maggots, and they have no legs. Some are vegetable eaters, some -carnivorous, and many are scavengers.’ They said all that about us, and -maybe it’s true, but I tell you every man in that meeting felt my -sting.” - -“I don’t care what they say,” remarked Mrs. Hessian Fly. “To be talked -about shows our importance, though I have never doubted mine. My family -is a Revolutionary one, as my ancestors came over with the Hessians. Of -course you have heard of them?” - -“No, I am only interested in the people who live now,” answered Mrs. -Mosquito. - -“Well, I live now,” said Mrs. Hessian Fly, “and I am interesting enough -for any use. I don’t make galls like so many flies, but simply lay my -eggs in young blades of wheat, and when my little red babies hatch, they -have only to crawl down and fasten themselves to the tender stalk, just -below the ground. Don’t they love the sap, though? A field of wheat -looks pretty sick after they have worked on it a while. Sometimes the -wheat midges help them and then it is good-by to the wheat. Mrs. Wheat -Midge, you know, lays her eggs in the opening flower of the grain, and -her babies eat the pollen and ovule. You may guess what happens then.” - -“I think it is real horrid to do that,” said Ruth. - -“And what do you know about it, pray?” retorted Mrs. Hessian Fly. “We -must all eat to live.” - -“We certainly must,” said a house fly, flitting up with a loud buzz. “I -have just escaped with my life. A cook wanted to take it because I tried -to lay some eggs on her meat. What better place could a fly ask, I’d -like to know? If Mrs. Blow Fly had been there, she would have put her -eggs on that meat, screen or no screen. She is a most determined body -and she can drop her eggs through the finest mesh, if she makes up her -mind to do it.” - -“Is Mrs. Blow Fly that big, buzzing, blue-bodied thing that is such a -botheration?” asked Ruth. - -“She’s big and blue, and she buzzes, or talks, with her wings, as we all -do,” answered Mrs. House Fly, with dignity, “but she isn’t a thing. -She’s a fly. There are hundreds of different kinds of flies, I’d like -you to understand. The kind like me live in houses, but some prefer -stables. They seem to like to stay with horses and cows, and are rather -common. They have beautiful eyes, though, and plenty of them. Would you -believe it, my head is nearly all eyes? I have thousands of tiny ones in -my two big ones, not to mention the three single ones at the top of my -head.” - -“Gracious!” said Ruth. “No wonder it is so hard to catch you. But -doesn’t it make you dizzy when you walk upside down, and how do you keep -from falling?” - -“Of course we don’t get dizzy and it is easy enough to keep from falling -if you have pads and fine hairs on your feet. They just hold you to the -place you are standing on. Men seem to consider this quite a wonderful -thing. One of them has written some poetry about it. This is how it -goes: - - “What a wonderful fellow is Mr. Fly, - He goes where he pleases, low or high, - And can walk just as well with his feet to the sky - As I can on the floor.” - -“Say,” spoke up a slim, narrow-winged creature with abnormally long -legs, “I’m one of your relations, though I can’t walk upside down.” - -“You?” repeated Mrs. House Fly, contemptuously. “Why, you can’t walk -decently right side up.” - -“It is true,” sighed the crane fly. “I haven’t even the grace of Daddy -Long Legs, for: - - “My six long legs all here and there - Oppress my bosom with despair.” - -“Well, I don’t care about your legs,” said Mrs. House Fly. “I was -speaking of my relations—my _smart_ relations. All are not smart. I have -some who need only bite the twig of a tree and lay their eggs there, and -what do you suppose happens? A round ball grows over the spot and men -call it a gall, but it is really a tiny house for my cousin’s babies. I -have another cousin, whose name is Cecidomyia strobiloides. It is long -for such a tiny creature, but she bears up very well under it.” - -“I couldn’t ever pronounce it,” said Ruth. “What does she do, please?” - -“She flies to a willow tree in the Spring, before the leaves are out, -and with a spear on the end of her body she cuts a gash in the tip end -of the bud, just where it is most tender and juicy. She lays an egg in -the gash; then goes to another twig, and does the same thing, until she -has laid as many eggs as she wishes. When her babies hatch, they do not -look at all like their gauzy-winged little gray mother, nor do they care -for sun or air. In fact, they never stir from their cells. They can eat, -though, and the sap of the tree is their food.” - -“You all seem to think a good deal of eating,” said Ruth. - -“Of course. Isn’t that what we are hatched for? But my cousin’s babies -have lost their appetites by the Fall, and then they go to sleep. They -wake up in the Spring, and, strange to say, they have grown exactly like -their mother and are ready to lay eggs on some more willow twigs. Very -likely the willow tree does not care to have them do it, for the twig -where their cradle is does not grow into a branch as the tree meant it -should. Instead, the small leaves just crowd upon each other, until they -look like a green pine cone.” - -“I hope it will never happen to my willow tree,” said Ruth; “but please -tell me more things. They are very interesting.” - -“Interesting? I should say so. Indeed, I could go on talking all day, -and not tell you one half the things we can do. But life is too -uncertain to waste it all in talking.” - -“Life is certainly full of accidents,” buzzed a big horse fly. “I’m here -to tell Mrs. Mosquito, if she is looking for the messenger she sent out -a while ago, she’d better make up her mind never to see her again. She -went too near a horrid warty toad, and you can guess the rest.” - -“We can,” sighed Mrs. Mosquito. “If it isn’t frogs, it’s toads and——” - -“Often it’s birds,” finished Mrs. Horse Fly, “and they are the worst of -all.” - -“Such subjects remind me that I am hungry,” said Mrs. Mosquito, “and I’m -off to find a juicy somebody for dinner. I think I shall lay some eggs -too.” - -“I wonder if it was my toad who ate that mosquito,” thought Ruth, as she -watched the audience fly away. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER V - RUTH HEARS ABOUT SOME WATER BABIES - - An inner impulse rent the veil - Of his old husk, from head to tail - Came out clear plates of sapphire mail. - —_Tennyson._ - - -Ruth lay in the grass, under the old willow tree, watching a dainty -little creature with a pale green body and four gauzy wings flashing -with all the tints of the rainbow. - -“What a beautiful dragon fly,” she said, half under her breath. “I never -saw one so lovely before. I wonder if it is a dragon fly. Do you think -it is, Belinda?” - -“I am not a dragon fly,” came in answer from the dainty creature -herself. “I’m a lacewing. Why don’t you use your eyes? It’s about time -you learned something.” - -“I do want to learn,” said Ruth meekly. “I am trying all the time. I -wish you would tell me things. I thought you were prettier than most -dragon flies.” - -Mrs. Lacewing looked pleased. “Now you show your taste,” she said, “and -I am quite willing to help you. Just wait a little while, and see what -happens. Then if you don’t like it, well——” And without waiting to say -more, or to let Ruth thank her, she was off. - -“I think she means to come back,” said Ruth, expecting, she scarcely -knew what, “and it will be nice, I am sure. Oh, Belinda, isn’t it just -like living in Fairyland, since we can hear what they talk about? There! -what did I tell you! It is Fairyland.” - -Ruth added this with a rapturous little squeeze, for just then she saw -the lacewing flying toward her, and with her many other beautiful winged -creatures. - -“The order Neuroptera, or the nerve wings,” said the lacewing, flitting -close to Ruth, “that is some of them.” Then she introduced Ruth as a -friend, adding in a self-satisfied tone: “She thinks I’m beautiful, and -I quite agree with her, don’t you?” - -Apparently the audience did. Of course she _was_ beautiful, and, -besides, she carried a scent bag which was not at all pleasant, and they -knew they were likely to have the full benefit of it if they -contradicted or displeased her. - -“Now we’ll begin,” she went on, with the air of one who had settled all -difficulties, but the next second she stopped, and, looking at a group -of caddice flies, she asked sternly: - -“Why are you here? and bless my wings, if there aren’t dragon flies, and -stone flies, and, who would believe it, May flies. Now you know that not -one of you belongs to our order.” - -“Well, we belonged to it once,” answered a caddice fly, speaking for -all. - -“But I don’t understand,” began Ruth. - -“Then don’t say anything,” put in a dragon fly, darting before her. -“Keep quiet and listen, and you’ll learn things. Besides, it is very -rude to interrupt people.” - -Ruth felt snubbed, and tried to turn her back on the dragon fly, but, as -he seemed to be everywhere at once, she found it impossible. - -The caddice fly was still speaking. “We can’t always remember,” she -said, “and I should like to know what right the wise men have to take us -out of one order and put us in a sub-order.” - -“Right is the last thing they think about,” spoke up a stone fly, “but I -really care very little whether I’m called Neuroptera, as I was once, or -Plecoptera, as I am now. Life is just as uncertain and full of -accidents. Why, my friends, it is the greatest wonder I lived to grow -up.” She sighed and began to fan her long, fat body with her broad fore -wings. - -“You know I was once a water baby.” - -“Water baby?” repeated Ruth. “Wouldn’t your wings——” - -“No they wouldn’t,” said Mrs. Stone Fly, “because I hadn’t any wings -then. I was homely, flat, six-legged, and just the colour of the stone -under which I spent most of my young life, hiding. I had to hide, or the -boys would have found me and used me for bait. Think of it! Bait!” - -And Mrs. Stone Fly, quite overcome, could say no more. - -“We came to make a few remarks,” said one of a swarm of May flies that -had been hovering about, “but we must go now. Life is too short for -talking.” - -“Poor things,” said Mrs. Lacewing, “life with them is indeed short. No -wonder they are called Ephemerida. Think of living only for a day!” - -“But they lived a long time as Nymphs,” said the dragon fly, who was -still darting about, now here, now there, like a flash of living flame. -“I know, because they were water babies like me. They could eat too, -then, and the number of times they changed their skins was a caution. -Why, my friends, they even change them after they leave the water and -have their wings. No other insect does that.” - -“Now, my story, in the beginning, is something like theirs. I, too, was -born in the bottom of the pond and, no doubt, I played with some of you, -or I may have tried to make a meal of you. Well, if I did I failed, and -I shouldn’t be blamed for the sins of my youth. All of us eat when we -can get the chance, and there’s no use in being sorry for the dinner. I -suppose you would like to hear how I managed to get into the pond?” He -looked at Ruth, who nodded her head, though she was still laughing at -the idea of being sorry for a dinner. - -“You see,” explained Mrs. Lacewing, “the dinner might be your nearest -relation.” - -“Just so,” agreed the dragon fly. “Now my mother, for of course I had a -mother, though like most pond people I never knew her——” - -“Do get to the point,” said an ant lion impatiently; “we are all growing -old.” - -“Well, the point is my mother,” answered the dragon fly, undisturbed, -“but first I should say that I no longer belong to the order Neuroptera, -but to the sub-order Ordonata. It means something about a tooth, but if -I have any teeth, I don’t know it. Now to get back to the point: my -mother flew down to the water one day, and when she left it there was a -cluster of small yellow eggs floating on the surface. I came from one of -those eggs, and I didn’t look like a dragon fly, I can tell you. I had -six tiny spider-like legs, but not a sign of wings, and when I breathed -it was not as I do now, like all perfect insects, through openings on -each side of my body. I had gills, and a tube at the end of my body -brought fresh water to them. This tube was a funny affair. It really -helped me along, for when I spurted water through it I was pushed -forward. Then I had a wonderful mouth, with a long under lip, that I -could dart out and catch anything within reach, while I did not need to -move my body at all.” - -“Just like frogs and toads!” cried Ruth. - -“Not at all,” answered the dragon fly. “They only send out their -tongues. I send out my whole under lip. If you could only keep quiet you -would not show your ignorance so plainly.” - -Once more Ruth was snubbed, and the dragon fly continued: - -“In time I became a pupa.” - -Ruth looked the question she dared not ask. - -“I’ll explain,” said the dragon fly, amiably. “Larva—that’s what I was -at first—means mask, or something that hides you. You will find out in -time, if you do not know now, that the larva of an insect is really a -mask which hides its true form. The plural of the word is larvæ. Now -pupa, plural pupæ, means baby. It is usually the state of sleep in which -the larva lies after spinning its cocoon or cradle, but in my case it -didn’t suit at all. Dragon flies, far from sleeping in the pupa state, -seem to grow more active, and their appetites are larger. Indeed, I will -say right here, everything that came my way, and was not too big, went -into my mouth. In fact, I finally reached my limit and burst.” - -“Gracious!” cried Ruth in a shocked tone. “How _did_ you get yourself -together again?” - -“Well, you see, the whole of me didn’t burst. I simply grew too big for -my skin, or my pupa case, as the wise men call it, and it cracked right -open. I was climbing on a water plant when this happened, for all at -once I had felt a longing to leave the water and get to the open air. My -first effort was to get rid of the useless old shell which still clung -to me, but I had quite a tussle before I could do so, and afterward I -was very weak and tired. But the result was worth all my labour, for I -found myself with these four wings, and the rest of my beautiful body, -and I needed only to dry myself before sailing away on the wind, the -swiftest thing on wings, and the most renowned mosquito killer on -record. Of course, my legs aren’t arranged for walking. Why should they -be? All six of them go forward, as if they were reaching for something, -and so they are, reaching for something to eat. Woe betide any insect I -start after. I catch him every time. I ought to, for I have thousands of -eyes, and I can fly forward, backward, or any old way. I never stop to -eat my dinner either. I hold it, and eat it as I go. Now if I had time, -I would tell you how the children of Japan make a holiday, and go out to -catch us for pets, and how they sing pretty songs to us and——” - -“It is about time you stopped,” interrupted Mrs. Ant Lion. “You have -tried our patience long enough, and I mean to speak this very minute. -I’ve been told I am much like the dragon flies,” she added to the -company, “but my babies are not at all like theirs. They do not belong -to the water, and I am glad of it. I’m tired of water babies. I’ve heard -so much of them to-day. My mother had the good sense to lay her eggs in -sand, and I shall do the same. I was hungry from the minute I was -hatched, and I would have run after something to eat right away, only I -found I couldn’t. My legs were fixed in such a way I had to walk -backward.” - -“Backward?” echoed Ruth. - -“Yes, backward. So there was nothing to do but to dig a trap for my -dinner, and I set about it pretty quick. No one showed me how, either. I -simply used my shovel-shaped head, and before long I had made quite a -pit, broad and rounded at the top, and sloping to a point like a funnel -at the bottom. You have seen them, of course?” - -“I think I have,” answered Ruth. - -“They are not hard to find if you keep your eyes open,” went on the ant -lion. - -“Well, as I said, I made one of these pits, and in the funnel end I lay -in wait for ants. Soon one came along, slipped over the edge, as I -expected, and tumbled right into my open mouth. Nor was she the only -one. Some were strong enough to turn, even while they were slipping, and -start to crawl up again, but I just heaped some sand on my head and -threw it at them, and down they would come. My aim was always good, so -were the ants, though I only sucked their juice. Of course I did not -leave their skins around to frighten away other ants. I piled them on my -head, and gave them a toss, which sent them some distance away. After a -time I stopped eating, and made a cocoon. Then I went to sleep!—for many -days—during which I changed wonderfully, as any one must know who has -seen ant lion babies and now sees me. This is all of my story, and I -suppose we will hear about another tiresome water baby.” - -[Illustration: “‘I MADE ONE OF THESE PITS AND IN THE FUNNEL END I LAY IN -WAIT FOR ANTS’”] - -“You shall hear about a water baby,” replied Mrs. Caddice Fly, waving -her antennæ by way of salute, “but tiresome will do for your own homely -children. I will begin by saying that, with the accidents of life, it is -a wonder that any of us are here. When we caddice flies were hatched we -were soft, white, six-footed babies. We were called worms, though we -were not worms. Think of it! Soft bodied, with not very strong legs, -white, and living at the bottom of the pond. Could anything be worse? No -wonder we seemed to do nothing at first but try to get away from things -that wanted to eat us. I tell you, pond life is most exciting. After a -while the front part of our bodies and our heads began to turn brown, -and, as the rest of us was white, and seemed likely to stay so, we all -decided to make a case or house to cover our white part. So we set to -work and of bits of sticks, tiny stones, and broken shells, glued -together with silk from our own bodies, we made these cases. True, many -of us went down the throat of Belostoma, the giant water bug, before we -had finished, but those of us who didn’t crawled into our little houses, -locking ourselves in by two strong hooks which grew at the end of our -bodies. We could move about, but of course we carried our houses with us -and——” - -“How ridiculous!” said Mrs. Ant Lion. “Why didn’t you stay still?” - -“Because we didn’t wish to,” answered the caddice fly. “We had to eat, -and we had to get away from those who wished to eat us. At last we went -to sleep, after first spinning a veil of silk over our front and back -doors. I can’t answer for the others, but when I awoke I tore open my -silken door, threw aside my pupa skin, and found I had wings. Since then -I have had a new life, but even that has its enemies, and one never -knows what will happen.” - -With which doleful saying Mrs. Caddice Fly sailed away to the pond to -lay some eggs among the water plants. - -“Dear me,” said Mrs. Lacewing, “we seem to need something cheerful after -that. I am glad I never lived in the water, if it makes one so blue. Now -I shall tell you what my babies _will do_, not what I _have done_. Of -course it is the same thing, but it is looking forward rather than to -the past. After this meeting is over I shall lay some eggs, on just what -plant I haven’t yet decided, but it will be in the midst of a herd of -aphides. Be sure of that. Aphides are plant lice,” she explained, seeing -the question in Ruth’s eyes. “You will learn more of them later. Now as -to the way I shall lay my eggs: First, from the tip of my body I shall -drop a thick gummy fluid, and draw it out into a long, stiff, upright -thread, and upon the end of this thread I shall fasten an egg. I shall -lay a number of eggs in this way, each on its own pole, so to speak. -Some people may think my way odd, but it is very wise. A lacewing knows -her children. They are not beautiful. Such short-legged, spindle-shaped -things couldn’t be pretty, but they are sturdy, and they have an endless -appetite.” - -“I should think they would feel lonely on those ridiculous poles,” said -Mrs. Ant Lion. - -“Not at all. They are not there long enough to feel lonely. They are in -too great a hurry for dinner. They are hungry, with a big H. Now just -suppose I should lay my eggs as the rest of you do, ever so many -together, what do you think would happen? I will tell you in a few -words. The dear child who came out first would eat all his unhatched -brothers and sisters. He doesn’t, only because he can’t reach them.” - -“It’s a wonder he doesn’t eat his pole,” said Ruth, her face showing -what she thought of such babies. - -“Yes, it is,” agreed Mrs. Lacewing, “but, strange to say, he doesn’t -seem to care for it. Indeed, he leaves it as quickly as he can, and goes -hunting. Of course he needn’t hunt far, for he is in the midst of -aphides. Every mother looks out for that, and really it is quite a -pleasure to see him suck the juice from aphid after aphid, holding each -one high in the air in his own funny way. So you can see why lacewing -babies are friends to the farmer and the fruit grower, for aphides kill -plants and trees, and young lacewings kill aphides. They can eat and eat -and eat, and never grow tired of aphides. Indeed, they really deserve -their name—aphislion. When they do stop eating it is to fall into their -long sleep, but first they weave a cocoon as beautiful as a seed pearl, -in which they change into a most lovely creature—one like me. Now our -meeting is adjourned, and I hope a certain person has learned a few -things.” - -“Oh, ever and ever so many, thank you,” answered Ruth gratefully. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER VI - RUTH GOES TO A CONCERT - - Oh, sweet and tiny cousins that belong, - One to the fields, the other to the hearth, - Both have your sunshine. - —_Leigh Hunt._ - - -Ruth and Belinda were crossing the meadow, when a big grasshopper made a -flying leap, and landed on Belinda’s head. - -“Do excuse me,” he said; “I missed my aim. No one hurt, I hope, or -frightened?” - -“Oh, no,” answered Ruth. “Belinda is real sensible; she isn’t afraid of -anything, and I am just as glad—as _glad_—to see you. Maybe you will——” - -Ruth hesitated, hoping he would know what she meant to say. She was sure -he could tell her a great many things, if only he would. He was so -polite and nice; besides, he looked very wise. - -“I suppose you’re going to the concert,” said Mr. Grasshopper, after -waiting a second for Ruth to finish her sentence. - -“Concert?” she repeated, opening her eyes wide. “What concert?” - -“Why the Straightwings’ Concert. They give one every sunny day in -Summer. Didn’t you know that? Dear me, where were you hatched and where -have you been living since? Well, why do you stare at me so? Don’t you -like my looks?” - -“Oh, yes,” Ruth hastened to answer. “You look very nice—something like a -little old man.” - -“I’ve heard that before, and there’s a story about it. Shall I tell it?” - -“Yes, please; I just love stories.” - -“Very well. Once upon a time, long, long ago, there lived in Greece a -beautiful young man named Tithonus. Now it chanced that Tithonus loved -Aurora, the Goddess of the Dawn.” - -“Greece?” said Ruth. “Why, that’s where Arachna lived, the one who -turned into a spider, you know?” - -“Do you want to hear my story or don’t you?” asked Mr. Grasshopper, -sharply. - -“I do want to hear it. I really do.” - -“Very well, then, don’t interrupt me again. As I was saying, Tithonus -loved Aurora, and every morning he would lie in the meadow and wait for -her coming. Then the fair goddess would give him her sweetest smiles. -But one day Tithonus grew pale and ill, and all the love of Aurora could -not make him well again. ‘Alas!’ he cried, ‘I am mortal, and I must -die.’ ‘Nay,’ answered Aurora, ‘you shall not die, for I will win for you -the gift of the gods.’ And, speeding to the mighty Jupiter, she begged -that Tithonus might be as a god, and live forever. So for a while they -were happy together, but as the years passed Tithonus grew old and bent, -for Aurora had forgotten to ask that he might always be young. Grieving -much, Tithonus lay under the shadow of the trees and sighed through the -long days.” - -“‘Ah, my Tithonus,’ whispered Aurora, ‘I love you too well to see you -thus unhappy. No more shall you be sad or bend beneath an old man’s -weakness, but, as a child of the meadow, happy and free, you shall sing -and dance through the golden hours.’ In that moment Tithonus became a -grasshopper, and ever since then his descendants have danced and sung in -the sunshine. That’s the end of the story. I might have made it twice as -long, but Summer is so short, and I want to dance.” - -“It was a very nice story,” said Ruth, “but do you really dance?” - -“Of course, our kind of dancing.” - -“But don’t you do lots of other things too?” - -“Yes; we give concerts, and we eat. We are hatched with big appetites, -and a strong pair of jaws, and we start right in to use them on the -tender grasses around us. We only follow our instincts, though men call -it doing damage. You eat, don’t you?” - -“Why, yes, but I don’t eat grass, you know.” - -“Because it isn’t your food. You see it’s this way: In the kingdom of -nature all creatures have a certain work to do, and each is exactly -fitted for its place, for all are governed by laws more wonderful than -any man has made. Not that I wish to speak lightly of man, he is good -enough in his place, but he is apt to think himself the whole thing, and -he isn’t. Maybe he doesn’t know that for every human creature on earth -there are millions of plants and animals.” - -“Oh,” said Ruth, “really and truly?” - -“Really and truly. You couldn’t begin to count them, and do you know, if -the earth was to grow quite bare, with only one living plant left on it, -the seeds from that one plant could make it green again in a very few -years. But if certain insects were left without other creatures to eat -and keep them down, the poor old earth would soon be bare once more. So -you see there must be laws to fix all these things. Nature balances one -set of creatures against the other, so there will not be too many of any -kind.” - -Ruth had listened in open-eyed astonishment. Surely this was a very wise -grasshopper. - -“You know a great deal,” she managed to say at last. - -“Yes, I do,” was the answer. “I heard two men say the things I’ve just -told you. They were walking across this meadow, and I listened and -remembered. You see, I believe in learning even from men. But do listen -to the concert—we are right in the middle of it.” - -[Illustration: THE WISE GRASSHOPPER] - -They certainly _were_ in the middle of it. The zip, zip, zip, zee-e-ee-e -of the meadow grasshoppers seemed to come from every part of the sunny -field, while the shorthorns, or flying locusts, were gently fiddling -under the grass blades, their wing covers serving for strings, and their -thighs as fiddle bows, and the field crickets, not to be outdone, were -scraping away with the finely notched veins of the fore wings upon their -hind wings. - -The longhorns were also there, some in green, others in brown or gray, -all drumming away on the drum heads set in their fore wings. - -“You would hear katydid too,” said Mr. Grasshopper, “only he refuses to -sing in the day. He hides under the leaves of the trees while it is -light, and comes out at night. If you think _me_ wise, I don’t know what -you would say of him. He is such a solemn-looking chap, always dressed -in green, and his wing covers are like leaves. You might think him -afraid if you saw him wave his long antennæ, but he isn’t. He is -curious, that’s all. It is a high sort of curiosity, too, like mine—a -wish to learn. I suppose you know we don’t make our music with our -mouths?” he asked suddenly. “Well, that is something,” he added, as Ruth -nodded “Yes.” - -“I sing with the upper part of my wing covers, but my cousins, the -shorthorns, sing with their hind legs. Why do you laugh? Aren’t legs as -good to sing with as anything else?” - -“I—I suppose so,” said Ruth. “It sounds funny, because I am not used to -that kind of singing.” - -“Just it. Now I shall tell you a few more facts about us. We belong to -the order of the Straightwings, or the Orthoptera, as the wise men call -it.” - -“Will you please tell me what that means?” asked Ruth. “Do all insects -belong to something ending in tera? Most everything I have talked to -does except toads and spiders.” - -“And they are not insects,” said Mr. Grasshopper. “Not even the spiders. -The word insect means cut into parts, and all insects have three parts, -a head, and behind that the thorax or chest, and the abdomen. Then, too, -they always have six jointed legs. Now maybe you have noticed that -spiders are not built on this plan? There are only two parts of them. -The head and thorax are in one. It is called the cephalothorax. I’d feel -dreadfully carrying such a thing around with me, but the spiders do not -seem to mind it. Their other part is their abdomen. I heard a little boy -say it was like a squashy bag; and between ourselves that is about what -it is. Of course you know that spiders have eight legs and that alone -would settle the question. True insects never have but six. Now as to -the orders: All insects are divided into groups, and it is something -about the wings which gives them their names. That is why they all end -in ptera, because ptera comes from pteron, a word which means wing. It -isn’t an English word, you know, but is taken from a language called -Greek.” - -Ruth listened very patiently. If she had heard all this in school it -would have seemed very dry, but when a grasshopper is telling you things -it is of course quite different. - -“But I am sure I can never remember it all,” she said. - -“Ah, yes, you can. Remembering is easy if you only practise it.” - -“Why, that’s like the White Queen,” cried Ruth. “She practised believing -things till she could believe six impossible things at once, before -breakfast.” - -“I don’t know the person,” said the grasshopper. - -“She lived in the Looking Glass Country,” began Ruth, but Mr. -Grasshopper was not listening. - -“You have met the Diptera, or Two Wings,” he said. “That’s easy. Then -you’ve met the Neuroptera, or Nerve Wings. That’s easy too. And now you -have met the Orthoptera, or Straightwings, meaning me, and if I’m not -easy, I should like to know who is. You see our wings are——” - -“Wings?” said Ruth in surprise. - -“Of course. Look here,” and opening his straight wing covers, Mr. -Grasshopper showed as nice a pair of wings as one could wish to possess. -“Not all of us have wings,” he added, folding his own away, “but those -of us who have not live under stones. Our order includes graspers, -walkers, runners, and jumpers. Not all are musicians. The graspers live -only in hot countries. Maybe you have seen the picture of one of -them—the praying mantis he is called, just because he holds up his front -legs as if he were praying. But it isn’t prayers he is saying. He is -waiting for some insect to come near enough so he may grab and eat it. -That will do for him. Next come the walkers. The walking stick is one, -and he isn’t a good walker either, but the stick part of the name fits -him. He is dreadfully thin. There is one on that twig now, and he looks -so much like the twig you can scarcely tell which is which.” - -“Why, so he does,” said Ruth, poking her finger at the twig Mr. -Grasshopper pointed out. “Isn’t he funny?” - -“Indeed,” grumbled the walking stick. “Maybe you think it polite to come -staring at a fellow, and sticking your finger at him, and then call him -funny, but I don’t. I want to look like a twig. That’s why I am holding -myself so stiff. I have a cousin in the Tropics who has wings just like -leaves.” - -“Yes,” added the grasshopper, “and his wife is so careless she just -drops her eggs from the tree to the ground and never cares how they -fall.” - -“Well, if that suits her no one else need object,” snapped the walking -stick. “I believe in each one minding his own business.” - -“An excellent idea,” said Mr. Grasshopper. “Now let me see, where was I? -Oh! the runners; but you’ll excuse me, I will not speak of them at all. -They include croton bugs and cock roaches, and it is quite enough to -mention their names. With the jumpers it is different. They are the most -important members of the order. I’m a jumper, I am also a true -grasshopper. You can tell that by my long slender antennæ, longer than -my body. For that reason I am called a longhorn, but my antennæ are -really not horns.” - -“I don’t see how any one _could_ call them horns,” said Ruth. - -“No more do I, but some people have queer ideas about things. Well, I -don’t care much. There is my mate over there. Do you notice the -sword-shaped ovipositor at the end of her body? She uses it to make -holes in the ground and also to lay her eggs in the hole after it is -finished. Yes, she is very careful. Her eggs stay there all Winter, and -hatch in the Spring, not into grubs or caterpillars, or anything of that -sort. They will be grasshoppers, small, it is true, and without wings, -but true grasshoppers, which need only to grow and change their skins to -be just like us. And I’m sure we have nothing to be ashamed of. We have -plenty of eyes, six legs, and ears on our forelegs, not like you people -who have queer things on the sides of your heads. Such a place for -hearing! but every one to his taste. Well, to go on, we have wing -covers, and lovely wings under them, a head full of lips and jaws, and a -jump that _is_ a jump. What more could one wish? Do you know what our -family name is?” - -Ruth didn’t know they had a family name, so of course she could not say -what it was. - -“It is Locustidae,” said Mr. Grasshopper, answering his own question. -“Funny too, for there isn’t a locust among us. Locusts are the -shorthorned grasshoppers—that is, their antennæ are shorter than ours. -They are cousins, but we are not proud of them. They are not very good.” - -“No one is asking you to be proud,” said a grasshopper, jumping from a -nearby grass blade. She had a plump gray and green body, red legs, and -brown wings, with a broad lemon-yellow band. - -“What’s the matter with me?” she demanded. “I guess you don’t know what -you are talking about. It’s the Western fellow that is so bad. We -Eastern locusts are different.” - -“Well, I suppose you are,” agreed the longhorn. “I know the Western -locusts travel in swarms and eat every green thing in sight. They are -called the hateful grasshoppers.” - -“No one can say that our family has ever been called hateful or anything -like it,” said a little cricket with a merry chirp. “We are considered -very cheery company, and one of the sweetest stories ever written was -about our English cousin, the house cricket.” - -“I am sure you mean ‘The Cricket on the Hearth,’” said Ruth. “It is a -lovely story, and I think crickets are just dear. Are you a house -cricket too?” - -“No, I belong to the fields, and I sing all day. Sometimes I go into the -house when Winter comes and sing by the fire at night, but my real home -is in the earth. I dig a hole in a sunny spot and Mrs. Cricket lays her -eggs at the bottom, and fastens them to the ground with a kind of glue. -Sometimes there are three hundred of them, and you can imagine what a -lively family they are when they hatch.” - -“I should like to see them,” said Ruth, for it was quite impossible for -her to imagine so many baby crickets together. - -“Well, it is a sight, I assure you,” answered the little cricket. “Did -you ever come across my cousin the mole cricket? She is very large and -quite clever. She makes a wonderful home with many halls around her -nest. She is always on guard too so that no one may touch her precious -eggs. Then I have another cousin, who doesn’t dress in brown like me, -but is all white. He lives on trees and shrubs and doesn’t eat leaves -and grass as we do. He prefers aphides. You can hear him making music on -Summer evenings. We crickets seldom fly. We——” - -The sentence was not finished, for just then a long droning note grew on -the air, increasing in volume, until it rose above the meadow chorus. - -“Oh!” cried Ruth, spying a creature with great bulging eyes and -beautiful, transparent wings, glittering with rainbow tints, “There’s a -locust! Isn’t he beautiful, Belinda? Maybe he will tell us some things. -Oh, Belinda, aren’t we in luck?” - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER VII - RUTH MEETS MANY SORTS AND CONDITIONS - - The shrill cicadas, people of the pine, - Make their summer lives one ceaseless song. - —_Byron._ - - -“A locust, indeed,” said the newcomer, and Ruth could see plainly that -he was not pleased. “It does seem to me you should know better than -that. Can’t you see I have a _sucking_ beak and not a _biting_ one, like -the grasshopper tribe? Besides, my music isn’t made like theirs. No -faint, fiddly squeak for me, but a fine sound of drums.” - -“I think I’ll move on,” said Mr. Grasshopper, and Ruth could see that he -was quite angry. She turned to look at the cricket, but he was far -across the field, fiddling to his mate. - -“I wish you wouldn’t go,” she said to the grasshopper. “You have been so -nice to me and I have learned ever so much from you.” - -“Oh, I dare say,” was the answer. “More than you will learn from some -people I could mention, but I really must leave you. My mate wants me.” -And a flying leap carried him quite away. - -“There, we are rid of the old grandfather,” said the cicada, “and now -what can I do for you?” - -“Tell me your real name if it is not locust,” answered Ruth. - -“It certainly is not locust. I’ve been called a harvest fly, though I am -not a fly either. I’m a cicada, and nothing else, and I belong to the -order of bugs.” - -“And what kind of tera is it?” - -“Tera?” repeated the cicada, looking at her with his big eyes. “Oh, yes, -yes, I understand. You mean our scientific name. It is Hemiptera, -meaning half-wings. I know we have some objectionable members, but I -don’t have to associate with them, and I rarely mention their names. I -have a cousin who lives in the ground seventeen years. Think of it! Of -course he is only a grub and doesn’t care for air and sun. I lived there -two years myself, but I was a grub also then. You see my mother put her -eggs in the twig of a tree, and when I came out of one of them I wanted -to get to the ground more than I wanted anything else, so I just crawled -out to the end of the branch and let go. Down I went, over and over, to -the ground, where I soon bored my way in, and began to suck the juices -of the roots about me. I liked it then, but I couldn’t stand it now. Of -course the moles were trying. They were always hungry and we were one of -the things they liked for dinner. One day something seemed to call me to -the world of light, and I came out a changed being—in fact, the -beautiful creature you see before you now. Perhaps you do not know how -much attention we have attracted? In all ages poets have sung of us, -even from the days of Homer. Maybe you will not believe me, but the -early Greeks thought us almost divine, and when Homer wished to say the -nicest things about his orators he compared them to cicadas. A while ago -I told you we were sometimes called harvest flies. We have also been -given the name Lyremen. Shall I tell you why?” - -“A story!” cried Ruth, clapping her hands. “Oh, yes, please tell it!” - -“Very well. Once upon a time, ages ago, a young Grecian player was -competing for a prize, and so sweet was the music he drew from his lyre -that all who heard it felt he must surely win. But alas! when he was -nearly finished one of his strings snapped, and, with a sad heart, he -thought that all his hope was gone. Not so, however, for a cicada, drawn -from the woods by the sweet sounds, had perched upon the lyre and when -the musician’s trembling fingers touched the broken string it gave forth -a note that was clear and true. Thus again and again the cicada answered -in tones that were sweet and full. When the happy player realized that -the cicada had won the prize for him, he was so filled with gratitude -that he caused a full figure of himself to be carved in marble, and in -his hand a lyre with a cicada perched upon it. Now wouldn’t you be proud -if your family had such a nice story about them?” - -“I’m sure it is very nice,” agreed Ruth. - -“Yet I’m not one to brag,” added the cicada, “and I am never ashamed to -say I’m a bug. Now if you will come with me to the pond I will show you -some of my cousins. They are very interesting.” - -And with a whiz the gauzy-winged fellow darted up into the sunshine, and -Ruth, following him across the meadow, could only hug Belinda in a -rapture of expectation, and whisper in a low voice: - -“Aren’t we in luck, Belinda—just the best kind of luck?” - -They had gone only a little way, however, when a mole pushed his strong -little snout above the ground. - -“Gracious! what a noise,” he said. “If I had had a chance when you were -a baby you wouldn’t be here now to disturb quiet-minded people.” - -Ruth jumped. She thought the mole meant he would have eaten her. Then -she laughed. “Of course it was the cicada he was talking to,” but the -cicada didn’t mind. - -“I know that very well,” he answered, cheerfully, “but you didn’t get -me. That makes all the difference, and now you can’t.” - -“Well, nobody wants you now. You would be mighty dry eating, but when -you were a grub, oh, my! so fat and juicy, like all the other grubs and -slugs and worms. I eat you all. Yet what thanks do I get from man for -doing away with so many of his enemies? Complaints, nothing but -complaints, and just because I raise a few ridges in the ground. I can’t -help that. When I move underground I push the earth before me, and, as -it has to go somewhere, it rises up.” - -“What do you push with?” asked Ruth, sitting down in front of the mole. - -“With my snout and forepaws,” he answered, “what else? The muscle which -moves my head is very powerful, and you can see how broad my forepaws -are, and, also, that they turn outward. They help to throw back the -earth as I make my way forward. I have ever so many sharp little teeth, -too, and my fur lies smooth in all directions, so it never rumples -and——” - -“Do come on,” interrupted the cicada; “that fellow isn’t interesting.” - -“That’s so,” said a thin little voice, as an earthworm cautiously lifted -his head from the ground. “Has he gone?” he asked anxiously. “He’d eat -me sooner than wink if he saw me. It is warm and damp this morning, that -is why I am so near the surface. I don’t like dry or cold weather. My -house——” - -“Have you a house?” - -Ruth had turned upon him in a second, full of questions as usual. - -“Certainly I have a house. It is a row of halls, lined with glue from my -own body. The walls are so firm they can’t fall in. Underground is -really a delightful place to live, snug and soft, cool in Summer, warm -in Winter. Lots to see, too. All the creeping, twining roots and stems -reaching out for food, storing it away, or sending it up as sap to the -leaves. The seeds waking up in the Spring, and hosts of meadow and wood -people wrapped in egg and cocoon, who spend their baby days there. Quite -a little world, I assure you. Of course I can’t see any of these things. -I have no eyes.” - -“Oh!” said Ruth, “how dreadful!” - -“No, it is just as well. If I had eyes I might get earth in them. I go -through the ground so much.” - -“But isn’t that awful hard work?” asked Ruth, shutting her eyes to -realize what having no eyes might mean. - -“It isn’t hard when one has a nice set of bristles, as I have to help me -along.” The earthworm was one who saw the best side of everything. “I am -made up of more than a hundred rings,” he went on, “and on each are -small stiff hair-like bristles so, though I have neither eyes, ears, -hands, nor feet, I am quite independent. I can move very fast, and the -slime that covers me keeps the earth from sticking to me. Do you know I -am the only jointed animal that has red blood? It is so. I do no harm, -either, to growing things, and I help to build the world. My tunnels let -air into the ground and help to keep it loose. I also bring up rich soil -from below, and lay it on the surface. I also——” - -“Well, that’s enough,” interrupted the cicada, moving his wings -impatiently. “I thought you wanted to see _my_ relations?” he added to -Ruth. - -“So I do,” answered Ruth. “Where are they?” - -“There are a number of them right in this meadow, though you would never -think it, to look at them. They are not at all like me. See that white -froth clinging to those grass stems? A cousin made that. Of the sap of -the plant too. If you look, you will find her in the midst of it. She is -green and speckled and very small. Then there are the tree hoppers, as -funny in shape as brownies, and the leaf hoppers. They are all my -cousins. The aphides too. Of course you know the aphides?” - -“I believe they were the things Mrs. Lacewing told me I should learn -about later,” said Ruth, with sudden remembrance. - -“Very likely. Mrs. Lacewing’s children should know about them. The -aphides are very bad, though they are so very tiny. But what they lack -in size they make up in numbers. Really there are millions of them. They -are not travellers, either, but stay just where they are hatched, and -suck, suck, suck. In that way they kill many plants, for it is the sap -of the plant, its life juice, which serves them for food. They eat so -much of this that their bodies can’t hold it all, and what they don’t -need is given off as honey dew. The ants like this honey so well that to -get it they take good care of the aphides. But there are some aphides -which do not give off honey dew. Do you see this white stuff on the -alder bushes?” - -“Yes. I’ve often seen it before, too. It looks like soft white fringe.” - -“Well, it isn’t. It is a lot of aphides, each with a tuft of wool on its -body, and a beak fast stuck in the alder stem.” - -They had now reached the pond, which lay smiling in the sunshine. - -“It would be so pretty,” said Ruth, throwing herself down on the grass, -“if it wasn’t for the horrid, green, oozy stuff all over it.” - -“Horrid, green, oozy stuff?” repeated the cicada. “Child, you don’t know -what you are talking about. That green stuff is made up of tiny green -plants more than you could count. Each has a rootlet hanging down like a -silver thread and leaves almost too small to be called so. They are -green though and they do the mighty work of all green leaves, for, -besides shading the pond world from the hot rays of the sun, they make -for the many inhabitants the life-giving oxygen without which they would -die. And I want to tell you something more: In that duckweed—for what -you call green, oozy stuff is duckweed—there are millions of tiny living -things too small to be seen by the eye except with the aid of a -microscope.” - -Ruth looked quite as astonished as the cicada meant she should be. - -“You have a great deal to learn, I assure you. Maybe you haven’t thought -of the pond as a world, but just see what a busy place it is.” - -Ruth looked and agreed with the cicada. Dragon flies were darting here, -there, and everywhere; frogs, with their heads out of the water, seemed -to be admiring the scenery when they were not swallowing air or whatever -else came in their way; glancing minnows and bright-eyed tadpoles played -amongst the swaying water weeds; even the wrigglers were there, standing -on their heads in their own funny way; and the water striders, skating -after their own queer fashion. Yes, it was a busy place. - -A party of whirligig beetles came dashing by, circling, curving, -spinning, and making such a disturbance that a backswimmer lost his -patience and told them to be quiet. - -They didn’t like that at all, so they threw about him a very -disagreeable milky fluid which made the backswimmer dive for the bottom -in a hurry. - -“That settled him,” said one of the whirligigs. “Hello! friend Skipper -Jack,” he called to a water strider, “what are you doing?” - -“Skating, of course,” answered the water strider. “There, they are -gone,” he added, to the cicada, “and I am glad of it. They are -nuisances.” - -“You are right,” agreed the cicada. - -“I am glad they don’t belong to our order.” - -“Don’t they?” asked Ruth. “I think they are awfully funny.” - -“Funny or not, they are beetles,” answered the water strider. “You had -better use your eyes. Do you know why I can skate and not get my feet -wet? No, of course you don’t, and yet it is as plain as the nose on your -face. I have a coat of hairs on the under side of my body. That’s why. I -spend my time on the surface of the water, for my dinner is right here. -Plenty of gnats, insect eggs, and other eatables. Then if I wish I can -spring up in the air for the things that fly. My Winters I spend under -water, but for other seasons give me the surface.” - -“And I like the bottom best,” said a water boatman, showing himself -quite suddenly, his air-covered body glittering like silver armour. - -“Another cousin,” whispered the cicada in Ruth’s ear. “He is called the -water cicada, as well as water boatman.” - -“He looks more like a boat than he does like you,” said Ruth. - -“My body is boat-shaped,” spoke up the boatman; “and see my hind legs; -they really are like oars, aren’t they?” - -“I am wondering what brought you to the surface,” said the cicada. - -“Why, I let go my hold on that old water weed, and you know the air that -covers my body makes it lighter than the water and unless I cling to -something I naturally rise. It is inconvenient, for I do not need to -come to the surface for air. I can breathe the same air over and over, -because I know how to purify it.” - -“How do you do it?” asked Ruth. Surely these insects were wonderfully -clever. - -“Oh, I simply hang to something with my front legs, while I move my back -ones just as I do in swimming, and that makes a current of water pass -over my coat of air and purify it. That fellow swimming on his back over -there is obliged to come to the surface every little while. He carries -air down in a bubble under his wings.” - -“Do you mean me?” asked the backswimmer, making a sudden leap in the -air, and flying away. - -“Gracious!” cried Ruth in surprise. “I didn’t know he could fly.” - -“There’s a good deal you don’t know,” replied the water boatman, a -remark Ruth had heard before. “I can fly too,” and he also spread his -wings and was off. - -“Well,” said the cicada, “I guess we might as well be off too. There -seems to be no one in sight to interest us.” - -“What about cousin Belostoma?” asked a sort of muffled voice, as a great -pair of bulging eyes showed themselves above the water, and out came the -giant water bug as big as life. - -“I’ve just had my dinner,” he said. “It really is funny to see how -everything hides when Belostoma shows his face. My wife is the only one -who doesn’t seem to be afraid of me and she—well, she’s a terror and no -mistake.” - -“Why, what’s the matter now?” asked the cicada. - -“And what has happened to your back?” added Ruth, with eager curiosity. - -“My wife’s happened, that’s what,” answered Belostoma in a doleful tone. -“She laid her eggs a while ago and glued every blessed one to my back. -It is nothing to laugh at either. There’s no joke in being a walking -incubator. Well, I must be going now. It is dinner time.” - -“I thought you just had your dinner,” said Ruth. - -“Yes, but it’s time again. It is always time. How silly you are.” - -“I must go too,” said the cicada, “but it isn’t dinner that calls me. I -feel sure my mate is longing for some music and I’m off to give her a -bit. See you later.” - -And, spreading his wings, the cicada flew away, beating his drums as he -went. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - MRS. TUMBLE BUG AND OTHERS - - Their wings with azure green - And purple glossed. - —_Anna L. Barbauld._ - - -Something exciting was going on. Ruth could not tell just what it was at -first. She could only watch and wonder. Then her eyes grew large and -bright. Surely some fairy’s wand had touched the old orchard, for -suddenly it seemed alive with beetles—big beetles and little beetles; -beetles in sober colourings, and beetles gleaming with all the tints of -the rainbow. Ruth had never dreamed that there could be so many of them -or that they were so beautiful. - -The gorgeously coloured, graceful tigers attracted her first, though she -didn’t know their name. - -“Oh,” she cried, “how lovely!” - -“And how strange,” added a voice just above her head, “how very strange, -their children should be so homely.” - -“What’s that?” asked one of the tigers, a metallic green fellow, with -purple lights, and two pale yellow dots on the edge of each wing cover. -“Our children not so beautiful as we are, did you say? Of course, they -are not; a fat grub couldn’t be, you know. But let me tell you, there -are few things as smart as a tiger beetle baby. I say,” he added, -looking full at Ruth, “have you ever seen the hole he digs? It is often -a foot deep, while he is less than an inch long. He has only his jaws -and fore legs to work with too. Yet he piles the earth on his flat head -as if it were the easiest thing in the world, and then, climbing to the -top, he throws it off, and is ready for another load.” - -“I suppose he digs a hole to catch things,” said Ruth, “like the ant -lion, and does he stay at the bottom and——” - -“No, he doesn’t stay at the bottom. He watches near the top of his hole -for his dinner, hanging on by a pair of hooks which grow out of a hump -on his back. He always goes to the bottom to eat his dinner, though; he -seems to like privacy. Yes, we are a fierce family from the beginning, -for we grown tigers can catch our prey either running or flying, and we -usually manage to get it, too. But, then, farmers need not complain of -us, for we never eat plants, and that is more than can be said of many -here.” - -“Such taste,” said a cloaked, knotty horn, holding herself in a position -that showed off her changeable blue and green dress, and her short -yellow cape. - -But the tiger did not answer. He was off after his dinner. Several tree -borers, however, nodded their heads in agreement. - -“I believe in a vegetable diet myself,” said Mrs. Sawyer, who wore as -usual her dress of brown and gray. “It is just such people as the tigers -who make things like that necessary in a respectable meeting,” and as -she spoke she waved her very long antennæ toward a big sign which read: - - “THE AUDIENCE ARE REQUESTED NOT TO EAT EACH OTHER DURING THE MEETING” - -“I am glad to say I am not one of that kind. I wonder if any one of you -know why the members of our family are called sawyers. Perhaps I had -better tell you: It is because our children saw into the trunks of -evergreen trees, and sometimes they make holes large enough to kill the -trees. Smart, isn’t it, for a baby?” - -“But it doesn’t seem to be very nice,” began Ruth. Then she stopped, for -Mrs. Sawyer was looking at her and the borers were nodding their heads -again. - -“Our children do not saw,” said the borers, “but they do bore, and it is -pretty much the same thing for the tree.” - -“My friends,” broke in a very solemn voice. - -Every beetle stopped talking, and Ruth jumped to her feet, then flopped -down on the grass again, waiting for what was coming. - -The speaker, a large, clean-looking beetle, had just flown to a twig in -the very middle of the meeting. He was black in colour, well sprinkled -above and below with pale straw yellow in dots and points, but the queer -thing about him was the two oval velvety black spots, each with a narrow -line of straw colour around it, on his thorax. They were like great -eyes, and made him look very wise. - -“He is the eyed-elater,” whispered Mrs. Sawyer to Ruth. “There he is -speaking again.” - -“My friends,” the big beetle was saying in tones as solemn, as before, -“the important thing in any meeting is to keep to the main issue.” - -“The main issue?” said the goldsmith beetle, a beautiful little creature -with wing covers of golden yellow, and a body of metallic green covered -with white, woolly fuzz. “What is the main issue?” - -“Dinner,” replied the tiger beetle, returning to his old place. “If it -isn’t breakfast or supper.” - -“No, my friend,” said the eyed-elater, with a grave glance, “the main -issue is——” - -Then he stopped and fixed his two real eyes and the two spots which -looked like eyes on some small beetles which were leaping in the air, -turning somersaults, and making quite a noise. - -“Will you be still?” he said in his sternest voice. - -“How foolish,” said Mrs. Sawyer, “to expect click beetles to be still!” - -But Ruth was all curiosity. - -“I’ve seen you before,” she said, going closer and touching one of the -funny little fellows. - -Suddenly it curled up its legs, dropped as if shot, then lay like one -dead. - -“Here, here!” called the elater. “No more of that! We know all about -your tricks!” - -“All right,” said the would-be dead one, and he gave a click, popped -into the air several inches, and came down on his back. - -“That won’t do at all,” he said, and, clicking and popping once more, he -came down on his feet. - -“There,” he added, “you need to have patience with click beetles. You -ought to know that, friend elater, for you are one of us.” - -“Well, I’m bigger, and not so foolish, and my children are not so -harmful as yours. Think of being a parent of those dreadful wire worms! -That is what you click beetles are, and you know the farmer hasn’t a -worse enemy. Now we must get back to the main issue.” - -“_Back?_” said Mrs. Sawyer. “Were we ever there to begin with? You can’t -scare me,” she added, “no matter how hard you stare. You haven’t any -more eyes than the rest of us. Those two spots are not real eyes, and -you know it.” - -“The main issue,” repeated the elater in a very loud voice, “is, What -makes us beetles?” - -“That’s something I’d like to know,” said a handsome little beetle in a -striped coat. “I’m a beetle, if there ever was one, yet I have a -world-wide reputation as a bug.” - -“Pray don’t get excited, Mrs. Potato Bug. It isn’t your time to talk -yet. We are on the main issue, and I will answer my own question.” - -Ruth was glad some one would answer it, for at this rate it seemed they -would never get anywhere. - -“We are beetles for several reasons,” went on the elater. “In the first -place, we belong to the order Coleoptera.” - -Another tera, thought Ruth. - -“That name is taken from a language called Greek, and means sheath wing. -It is given to us because we have handsome outside wings which we use to -cover our real flying wings. All beetles have them, though those of our -cousin, Mr. Rove Beetle, are quite short.” - -“That’s a fact,” said a rove beetle, “and no one need think we have -outgrown our coats. It is simply a fashion in our family to wear our -sheath wings short. We can always fold our true wings under them, and -I’d like to see the fellow who says we can’t.” - -“Well, you needn’t get so mad about it,” answered the elater in mild -tones. - -“And don’t curl your body up as if you were a wasp,” added Mrs. Sawyer. -“Everybody knows you can’t sting.” - -“I don’t care,” said the rove beetle. “I hate to be misunderstood. We -are useful too. I heard a man call us scavengers. I don’t know what it -means, but something good, I am sure, from the way he said it. I must be -going soon. It is so dry here. You know my home is in damp places under -stones or leaves.” - -“You may go when you wish,” answered the elater. “We are still on the -main issue. As I said before, we are beetles, and there is no reason to -take us for bugs. Calm yourself, Mrs. Potato Bug. We have no sucking -beak as the bugs have, but we have two sets of horny jaws, which move -sideways, and _not_ up and down. These are to bite roots, stems, and -leaves of plants, so most of our order live on vegetable food and are -enemies to the farmer, but some of us are his friends, for we eat the -insects that injure his crops. Our children are called grubs. Some of -them make a sort of glue, with which they stick together earth or bits -of wood for a cocoon; others make tunnels in tree trunks or wood and -transform in them. We may well be proud, for we belong to a large and -beautiful order, and we are found in all parts of the world. We are -divided into two sub-orders—true beetles and snout beetles. I hope our -cousins, the snout beetles, will not be offended. They are real in a -way.” - -“The farmer and fruit grower think so anyway,” said a little weevil. “We -have been called bugs just because we have a snout, but any one can see -at a glance that it isn’t a bug’s snout. It is not a tube at all, but -has tiny jaws at the tip.” - -“I don’t believe I could see all that,” said Ruth rather timidly, for -these clever little people had a way of making her feel she knew very -little. - -“Maybe you can’t,” was the short answer, “and I dare say you can’t tell -how we use our snouts either. We punch holes with them in plums, -peaches, cherries, and other fruits, not to mention nuts and the bark of -trees. I am a peach curculio, but that is not important. We all work in -the same way—that is, drop an egg in the hole made by our snout, then -use the snout again to push the egg down. Mrs. Plum Weevil is busy now -in the plum orchard back of us; so of course she couldn’t come to this -meeting. ‘Duty before pleasure,’ she said. She will lay eggs in quite a -number of plums, and the plums will drop from the trees before they are -ripe.” - -“And there’ll be a lump of gum on them!” cried Ruth, clapping her hands. - -The weevil looked at her with approval. “You do notice some things,” she -said. - -“The gum oozes out of the hole made by our snouts. Of course our egg -hatches inside the fruit, and the baby has its dinner all around it. As -it hasn’t a leg to walk on——” - -“Dear! dear!” sighed the elater. “You seem to forget that we are trying -to keep to the main issue. As I said before——” - -“You are always saying what you said before,” snapped Mrs. Sawyer. - -“Now, they are beginning again,” thought Ruth, but the elater paid no -attention to Mrs. Sawyer. - -“As I said before,” he repeated, “we have reason to be proud, for though -we build no cities, like ants, wasps, and bees, and make no honey or -wax, or have, in fact, any special trades, yet we are interesting and -beautiful. The ancient Egyptians thought some of us sacred and -worshipped us.” - -“There!” cried Mrs. Tumble Bug, literally tumbling into their midst. “I -couldn’t come at a better time.” - -Ruth gave a little scream of delight when she saw her, and Mrs. Tumble -Bug nodded with the air of an old friend. - -As usual, her black dress looked neat and clean, though she and her -husband had rolled and tumbled all over the road in their effort to get -their ball to what they considered the best place for it. They had -succeeded, and Mrs. Tumble Bug’s shovel-shaped face wore a broad smile -in consequence. - -“I knew about this meeting,” she said, “but my husband and I agreed that -duty should come before pleasure.” - -“She heard me say that,” whispered the little peach weevil to her -nearest neighbour. - -“I didn’t,” answered Mrs. Tumble Bug. “I have just come. We only found a -safe place for our ball a little while ago.” - -“That ball!” said Mrs. Sawyer in disgusted tones. “I should think you -would be tired of it.” - -“Tired of our ball?” repeated Mrs. Tumble Bug. “Why, our ball is the -most important thing in the world. This was a big one, too. We made it -in Farmer Brown’s barnyard, and then I laid my eggs in it, and we rolled -it all the way here. Of course it grew on the road, and I couldn’t have -moved it alone, but my mate helped me. He always helps. Indeed it seems -to me tumble bugs are the only husbands in the insect world who care -about their children’s future.” - -“Now I know,” said Ruth, who had been thinking very hard. “You think so -much of your balls because they hold your eggs. I’ve often wondered -about them.” - -“Of course that is the reason,” answered Mrs. Tumble Bug; “and when our -eggs hatch the babies will have a feast all around them.” - -“Ugh!” said Ruth, and some flower beetles shook their little heads, and -added: - -“It would be better to starve than eat the stuff in that ball.” - -“Tastes differ,” said Mrs. Tumble Bug, amiably; “but, speaking of sacred -beetles, it was our family the Egyptians worshipped. They could not -understand why we were always rolling our ball, so they looked upon us -as divine in some way, and made pictures of us in stone and precious -gems. They can be seen to-day, I am told, but I do not care about that. -I must make another ball,” and, nodding to her mate, they left the -meeting together. - -“Now we’ll adjourn for dinner,” announced the elater, much to the -disgust of Mrs. Potato Bug, who was just getting ready to speak. - -“Dinner is well enough,” she said, “but how is one to enjoy it when one -must stop in a little while?” - -“You needn’t stop,” answered the elater. “Stay with your dinner. We are -not so anxious to hear you talk.” - -“But I mean to talk, and I _will_,” and Mrs. Potato Bug was off to the -potato field, intending, as she said, to take a light lunch, and be back -when the meeting opened. - -But potato bugs propose, and farmers dispose, and—— - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER IX - LITTLE MISCHIEF MAKERS - - It’s a wonder, it’s a wonder - That they live to tell the tale. - —_Anon._ - - -Mrs. Potato Bug did not return. A sister bug rose to speak when the -meeting opened after dinner. There had been a sad tragedy in the potato -field, she told them, and even at that very minute the farmer and the -farmer’s men, armed with barrels of “pizens,” were waging a warfare in -which millions of potato bugs were going down to their death. “Alas! my -friends,” she finished with a sigh that seemed to come from the very -tips of her six feet, “no words can paint the dreadful scene. She who -was here but a short while ago, so chipper and so gay, even she was -giving her last gasp as I fled from the field of carnage.” - -The story moved the audience deeply, and all agreed that something -should be done to suppress the farmers. It was even suggested to appoint -a committee to consider ways and means, but at this point a very young -potato bug asked the question: - -“If there were no farmers, who would plant potatoes for us?” - -“No one,” answered Mrs. Sawyer, who was there just as self-important as -ever. “Then maybe there would be no potato bugs, and I for one wouldn’t -be sorry.” - -“Indeed,” said the potato bug who had told the tale of battle, “I’d have -you know we are Colorado beetles, if you please, and our family has a -world-wide fame. We are true Americans, too, and not emigrants from -Europe, like many other insects, and that reminds me: The other day when -I was having a nice chew on some very juicy potato leaves, I heard -somebody say to somebody else: ‘Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the -West.’ He said a lot more, but I heard that plainly, and I wondered if -he meant our family, and didn’t know our name, because, you know, we -came out of the West.” - -“I am sure he didn’t mean you,” said Ruth, who was in her old place -right in the middle of the meeting. “That line is from a lovely piece of -poetry about——” - -“No one asked your opinion,” answered the potato bug angrily. “It is bad -enough to have outsiders force themselves in, without being obliged to -hear their silly remarks.” - -Ruth’s face grew red, and she was about to reply, when Mrs. Sawyer -whispered in her ear. - -“Don’t mind her, she is only a potato bug.” - -It was well that Mrs. Potato Bug did not hear this. “Before 1859,” she -was saying, “our home was in the shade of the Rocky Mountains. There we -fed on sandspur, a plant belonging to the potato family, and the East -knew us not. It was only after the white settlers came West and planted -potatoes that we found out how much nicer a potato leaf is than a -sandspur leaf, so of course we ate potato leaves. We came East, -travelling from patch to patch, and by 1874 we had conquered the country -to the Atlantic Ocean. That shows what a smart family we must be, and I -will tell you how we do. We lay our eggs on the potato leaves, and our -children find their dinner all ready, and, as they hatch with splendid -appetites, they get right to work. Those that hatch in the Fall sleep -all Winter in the ground and come out as beetles in the Spring, just in -time to lay more eggs. So we keep things going, especially the -potatoes.” And Mrs. Potato Bug retired with the air of one quite proud -of herself. - -Her place was taken by a little ladybug, looking quite pretty in her -reddish-brown dress, daintily spotted with black. - -“I have several cousins,” she said, “of different colours, but all -spotted and all friends to farmers and fruit growers, for we eat the -aphides and scale bugs which do so much harm to plants. We are called -bugs, but of course we are beetles. I could tell you a story——” - -“Never mind the story,” said a great brown blundering fellow, much to -Ruth’s regret, for she wanted to hear the story. - -“Excuse my awkwardness,” said the newcomer. “It bothers me to fly by -day. I like to go around the evening lamps. I can buzz loud enough for a -fellow three inches long, though I am really not one. I am called a June -bug, and I’m really a May beetle. What do you think of that? I have been -told that the farmers do not like us, nor our children either. They are -such nice, fat, white grubs too. They do love to suck the roots of -plants though, and, as we grown fellows are just as fond of the leaves, -between us we make the poor old plants pretty sick.” - -“I wish something had made you sick before you came here to disturb -quiet folks with your buzzing,” said a large blue beetle, dropping some -oil from her joints in her excitement. - -“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” she added when Ruth spoke to her about it. “It -only proves that I have a right to be called an oil beetle. In these -days it is so important to know who is who.” - -Ruth was watching the oozing oil curiously. - -“Does it hurt?” she asked. - -“Oh, no,” was the answer. “It is perfectly natural. I can’t move about -fast, I am too fat, and I haven’t any wings to speak of. So when -anything disturbs me I can only play ’possum and drop oil. I wasn’t -always like this, though,” she went on, with a heavy sigh. “Would you -believe it? I was born under a stone in a field of buttercups. I was -tiny, but my body had thirteen joints and three pairs of as active -little legs as you ever saw. Each had a claw on it too. What do you -think of that? I used my legs right away to climb a nearby flower stalk. -Something inside of me seemed to tell me just what to do, and when a bee -came flying by, though she looked like a giant, I wasn’t a bit afraid, -but I popped on her back, and clutched so tight with my six little -claw-like legs she couldn’t have gotten me off if she had tried. But -maybe she didn’t know I was there. Anyway, I had some lovely free rides, -for she flew from flower to flower, and then she went home.” - -“Oh,” interrupted Ruth, “did you go right into the hive?” - -“Yes, but I didn’t notice much about it at first. I felt very tired, and -I can only remember dropping from her back and going to sleep. When I -awoke a funny thing had happened.” - -“What?” asked Ruth, full of curiosity. - -“My legs were gone, and only a half dozen short feelers were left me -instead. But I didn’t mind. I was in one of the tiny rooms of the hive, -and there was a nice fat bee baby for me to eat. I didn’t lose any time -either; I was hungry. Besides the baby there were bee bread and honey. -Who could ask for more? Indeed, I ate so much I went to sleep again, -and, would you believe me? in that sleep I lost even my short feelers, -and, worst of all, my mouth.” - -“Gracious!” said Ruth. - -“I suppose after that I slept again, for what’s the use of staying awake -if you can’t eat? But that nap finished me. I waked up looking as I do -now. It was a sad change. Maybe that is why I feel so blue and am called -the indigo beetle.” - -“I don’t see why you changed so many times,” said Ruth. - -“Neither do I. No other insect does, but I suppose it has to be. I shall -soon lay my eggs, and that no doubt will be the end of me. We seem to -begin and end with eggs.” - -She sighed heavily, and went on: “I have a cousin who is used to make -blisters on people. Think of it! She is called Spanish fly, and she is -no more a fly than you are.” - -“Does she bite them to make the blister?” asked Ruth. - -“Dear me, no! The poor thing is dried and made into powder and then -spread with ointment on a cloth. That makes the blister. I suppose it -takes ever so many of my poor cousins for just one blister. I tell you, -life is sad.” - -“Do stop that sort of thing, I can’t stand it!” said a plain, slender -little beetle, with no pretensions to beauty of any sort. “I came here -as a special favour, and then I am forced to hear such talk as that. I -am never at my best in the day, and you should know it. Some of you -complain of being called bug, and others object to the name fly. Now I -am as much a beetle as any of you, and I’ve been called both bug and -fly.” - -“A lightning bug?” cried Ruth. - -“Yes, and also firefly, and if it was dark I’d prove it. Of course my -light can’t be seen in the day, and generally I’m not to be seen either, -for we fireflies hide away on the leaves of plants until it begins to -grow dark. Then we come out, and have gay times flying over the meadows. -Some of our family who live in warm climates are so large and bright -they are used to read by. Not only that, ladies wear them as they would -jewels, and in Japan——” - -But the firefly could say no more, for just at this moment some -whirligig beetles came flying in and every one turned to look at them. - -“I should like to know what those fellows are doing here,” said a -bumble-bee beetle, making such a loud humming that Mrs. Sawyer declared -she thought a real bumble bee was in their midst. “People who live in -the water shouldn’t belong to our family, anyhow. I can’t imagine any -one liking the water.” - -“That’s because you are not a water beetle,” answered one of the -whirligigs. - -“Why, the water is the most sociable place in the world. Something -lively happening all the time. Constant changes too. Those who are with -us one moment are gone the next, but that is life on land as well as in -the water for us insects. Dinner is always our first thought. Of course -we water fellows are fitted for our life. We are put together more -tightly than you land beetles, and we are boat-shaped besides. We use -our hind legs for paddles, and we have wings with which we can leave the -water if we wish. We whirligigs are sociable fellows, always a lot of us -together, and such fun as we have dancing and whirling about in the -water! We don’t often dive unless something is after us.” - -“You must have very good times,” said Ruth, watching the shiny, bluish -black little beetles with eager attention. Then she asked quite -suddenly: - -“Have you four eyes?” - -“No, my dear,” answered the first speaker, “we have only two. They look -like four, because they are divided into upper and lower halves. So you -see we can look up and down at the same time, and, I tell you, insects -need to step lively to keep out of our way. Good times? I should say we -did have good times. Now to the surface to snatch bubbles of air with -the tiny hairs on the tip of our tails, and then down again for a race -or a game of tag with our friends. No, not all the water beetles are as -frisky as we are. Some are—now what _is_ that?” - -The whirligig might well ask the question, for a sound like a tiny -popgun had broken in upon his remarks, and the whole audience, including -Ruth of course, was looking at a greenish blue beetle who had just come -in, leaving a fine trail of smoke behind him. It was he who had made the -queer noise, and he seemed quite disturbed by the sensation he was -creating. - -“Do excuse me,” he begged. “I really forgot I was among friends.” - -“I should think so,” answered the elater, looking at him sternly. “A -beetle who carries a gun should be careful about using it.” - -“Well, I try to be careful, but accidents will happen.” - -“Yes, you might really call it a gun,” he said, in answer to Ruth’s -question, “and I have been named the Bombardier beetle because I carry -it. When men try to catch me, I shoot it off, though I suppose it really -doesn’t hurt them, but it quite blinds my insect enemies until I can get -away, anyhow. Oh, no, I do not use balls or shot. It is a fluid, in a -sac at the end of my body, and when I spurt it out it turns to gas, and -looks like smoke.” - -“Well, we have had talk enough for to-day,” interrupted the elater, and -the Bombardier beetle said no more. - -“Talk?” repeated Mrs. Sawyer, “I should say so. Very tiresome talk too. -Now I’m going out to lay some eggs. I know a lovely tree.” - -“That’s all she thinks about,” said the elater. “I’m sure we have had a -very interesting meeting, and I made the main issue very plain.” - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER X - SOME QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE - - That nothing walks with aimless feet. - —_Tennyson._ - - -In a corner of the garden, where the lilacs grew tall and broad, Ruth -was waiting for something to happen. She had a feeling, as she told -Belinda, that the most interesting things were coming, for the wind had -been kissing her cheeks and ruffling her hair, just as though it was -saying to her, “Watch now. Watch closely and listen.” Then, too, the -garden seemed to be alive. Bees droning over the flowers; wasps -collecting their tiny balls of wood pulp or marketing for their -families; ants running here, there, and everywhere; not to mention many -other winged creatures, some of whom were made after a fashion so queer -that Ruth, forgetting how rude it is to make personal remarks, -deliberately asked of one: - -“If you please, what is that long piece which seems to be growing from -the tip of your body? It looks like Mary’s stove hook when she sticks it -in the lid.” - -“That,” was the rather short answer, “is my abdomen, and it isn’t -growing from the tip of my body, but from the _top_ of my thorax. It -seems to me you have never seen an ensign fly before.” - -“No, I never did. Please, what does ensign mean?” - -“The dictionary will tell you that. All I know is some man got an idea -that we carried our abdomens aloft like a flag or ensign, and so named -us ensign fly. We are not flies, to begin with, but we have to keep any -idiotic name they choose to tack on us. Now take Mrs. Horntail, who -wants——” - -“Thank you, I can speak for myself,” interrupted the horntail, sharply. -She was quite handsome, with her black abdomen banded with yellow, her -red and black head, yellow legs and horn, and dusky wings. - -“I like my name. It means something, for I have a horn on my tail, and, -what’s more, I use it. You should see me bore into solid green wood. -None of your dead wood for me. I am not content with one hole either. I -bore a great many, and in each I drop an egg, and when my babies hatch -they get fat on the sap wood of the tree.” - -“There seem to be such a lot of things to eat trees,” said Ruth. - -“Perhaps there are, but I am interested in horntail babies only. They do -their share of eating too, and when they grow sleepy they make cocoons -of chips and silk from their own bodies, and go to sleep. After they -wake they are changed into winged creatures, who naturally do not care -to live in the tree any more. So they gnaw their way through the bark to -the outside world and——” - -“Not if the woodpeckers and I can help it,” interrupted an ichneumon -fly, keeping her antennæ in constant motion. She seemed to have long -streamers floating from the back of her, and, altogether, Ruth thought -her even queerer looking than the ensign fly. - -“Those streamers are my ovipositor,” she explained to Ruth. “The thing I -lay eggs with, you understand. When I shut them together they form a -sort of auger, with which I bore into a tree, way, way in, where the fat -horntail babies are chewing the sap wood, and so ruining the tree. Into -their soft bodies I lay my eggs and when my children hatch they eat, not -the tree, but the horntail baby. It is a wonderfully good riddance, and -so the farmer and fruit grower consider us their friends and call us -‘trackers,’ because we find the hiding places of so many pests that harm -the plants.” - -“You can’t get my babies,” said Mrs. Saw Fly. “I haven’t a horn, but I -have a saw, and, though it will not bore into wood, it saws fine gashes -in green leaves. Of course I drop an egg in each gash, and soon there’s -a swelling all around it, and when my children hatch they rock in gall -nut cradles, and the sap which gathers there is their food.” - -“Talk about gall cradles,” said a gall fly, “my sisters and I are the -fairies who make them to perfection. Each of us has a different plant or -tree which she prefers, and each follows her own fashion in making -galls, and we puzzle even the wise men. Have you ever seen the brown -galls that grow on oaks?” - -“Why, of course,” answered Ruth, glad the question was such an easy one. - -“Well that’s something, but I doubt if you have noticed the rosy -coloured sponge that sometimes grows around the stem, or the mimic -branch of currants drooping from the spot where the tree intended an -acorn to be, or the tiny red apple-like ball on the leaf.” - -Ruth shook her head. “They must be very pretty,” she said. - -“Pretty? I should say so. They are all different kinds of galls too, and -we gall flies make them. Sometimes we sting the leaf, sometimes the -twig, and sometimes the stem, and always just the kind of cradle we -intended grows from it, and the egg we laid there hatched into a baby -grub, ready to eat the sap.” - -“Then you know about the one on the willow tree,” put in Ruth. “The one -the housefly told about. It grows like a pine cone, and is made by some -one with a dreadfully long name.” - -“That is something entirely different,” answered the gall fly. “We do -not pretend to make all the galls, you understand. Some are made by -insects belonging to quite another order. The willow tree cone is one. -You may always know ours from the fact that we make no door for the -babies to come out, as other insects do. Our babies make their own door -when they are ready to leave their cradle. And now to show how much is -in some names, I will tell you that those other gall insects are called -gall gnats and belong to the order of flies, while we are called gall -_flies_, and belong to the order Hymenoptera.” - -“Oh!” cried Ruth, clapping her hands. “Now I know the kind of tera you -belong to, Hy-men-op-tera,” she repeated slowly. “Please tell me just -what it means.” - -“No, I won’t,” was the ungracious answer. “I hate explanations.” - -“I’ll tell you,” said Mrs. Horntail. “I know all about it.” And as Ruth -turned to her with grateful eyes she began: - -“Hymenoptera means membrane wing, and that’s the kind we have, though -some of our order have no wings at all. The others have four wings, the -front pair being larger, with a fold along the hind edge, that catches -on hooks on the front edge of the hind wings; so we really seem to have -but one pair. Do you understand that?” - -“Yes,” nodded Ruth. - -“Very well. We are divided into two sub-orders: stingers and borers. Our -larvæ are called maggots. They are not like us, being white grubs, with -round horny heads, pointed tails, six legs——” - -“Here, here!” said the ichneumon fly, “that does well enough for your -children, but you know perfectly well that the babies of the rest of us -have no legs.” - -“Yes, I know. Poor things! Legless children! How sad! Mrs. Saw Fly and I -are the only exceptions.” - -“And your children use their legs to no good purpose either,” said the -ichneumon fly. - -“My children need no legs. They never move from the spot where they are -hatched until after they transform. Why should they? Their dinner is -right there.” - -“The same with mine,” added a little bright-coloured brachnoid. “I -choose a nice fat caterpillar, or something like that, to lay my eggs -in, and he always lasts until my babies are ready to spin their cocoons, -which they do on his shell, or dried skin, or whatever you choose to -call it. I know he himself is quite gone. It is a pretty sight to see -them.” - -The brachnoid herself was a pretty little thing and as she looked not -unlike the ichneumon fly, only smaller, Ruth asked Mrs. Horntail if she -were not a young ichneumon fly. - -“Young ichneumon?” repeated Mrs. Horntail. “Whoever heard of such a -thing? A young ichneumon is as large as an old one. None of us insects -grow after we leave our cocoons. When we are what you mean by -young—babies, in other words—we are different. I thought you had learned -that before now. Haven’t you had larvæ and pupæ explained to you?” - -“Oh, yes,” said Ruth, “but I had forgotten. Of course you are different -when you are first hatched, and then you get wings, while you sleep, but -I thought maybe you grew even after you had wings.” - -“Some of the grasshopper tribe do that, and spiders are hatched little -spiders and grow bigger as they grow older, but we do no such thing. -Besides, as you heard a while ago, an ichneumon baby is legless, -absolutely legless, and homely. Well, I think the homeliest thing that -lives, but then what can you expect with such a mother?” - -“I don’t think she is so awfully homely,” said Ruth. “She is -odd-looking, and—and——” - -“Odd-looking?” repeated Mrs. Horntail. “You should see her drilling a -hole and laying her eggs. If she doesn’t cut a figure, I don’t know one. -With her abdomen all in a hump, her wings sticking straight up, and her -antennæ standing out in front, not to mention the ridiculous loop she -makes with the ovipositor, she certainly is a sight.” - -“But I find the horntail babies,” said the ichneumon fly, quite -undisturbed, “and that is the important thing. I wonder if this meeting -is over?” - -“I hope so,” answered Mrs. Horntail. “It is not a proper meeting at all. -If I had the regulating of it, I would make some of these creatures -behave. See that ant on the pebble over there. She is making faces, -actually making faces.” - -“I am not making faces,” answered the ant. “I am getting ready to talk, -and I haven’t had a chance.” - -She was little and brown, and scarcely an eighth of an inch long, but -she looked quite important as she prepared to address the audience. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER XI - WISE FRIENDS AND FIERY ONES - - A was an ant, who seldom stood still, - And who made a nice nest in the side of a hill. - —_Edward Lear._ - - -“Sh!” said Ruth to the audience in general, for she wanted very much to -hear what the ant had to say. The ant looked at her approvingly, and -then said in a very solemn tone: - -“My friends, there are ants and ants.” - -“Who doesn’t know that?” snapped Mrs. Horntail. - -[Illustration: “‘MY FRIENDS, THERE ARE ANTS AND ANTS’”] - -“Yes, there are ants and ants,” repeated the speaker, not noticing the -interruption. “There is the carpenter ant, for one. In the books she is -called Componotis Pennsylvanicus, but never mind the name. It doesn’t -seem to hurt her. She makes her nest in the trunks of trees, old -buildings, logs, and places of that kind. You can see her on the leaf by -Mrs. Saw Fly. She is large and black and——” - -“Clean,” finished the carpenter ant, speaking for herself, and, without -asking further permission, she poised on her hind legs and began to ply -her tongue, and the fine and coarse combs on her fore legs, until she -had gone over her whole body, smoothing out ruffled hairs, and getting -rid of every atom of soil. Her toilet done, she gave a few leisurely -strokes, then drew her fore legs through her mouth to clean the combs, -and stretched herself with an air of satisfaction. - -“I hope I haven’t interrupted the proceedings,” she said, “but if I am -not clean I am miserable. Now, Miss Lassius Brunens, please go on.” - -[Illustration: “‘THEN THERE ARE ANTS WHO KEEP SLAVES’”] - -“Miss who?” asked the little brown ant. “Oh, I see. You are calling me -by the name the wise men give me. Well, I can stand it. To continue: I -have mentioned the carpenter ant, and there are also the mound builders. -Everybody knows their big hills. Then there are ants who keep slaves, -and live under stones, and there are honey ants, who live in the South -and use the abdomens of their own sisters to store honey in, and there -are ants who sow seed and harvest it, and ants who cut pieces from green -leaves and carry them as parasols, and soldier ants and——” - -[Illustration: “‘THEN THERE ARE ANTS WHO CUT PIECES FROM GREEN LEAVES -AND CARRY THEM AS PARASOLS’”] - -“Oh, give us a rest!” broke in Mrs. Horntail. “I am tired of ants.” - -“Jealous, you mean,” said the little brown ant, “because you are not as -wise as we are. Maybe you don’t know that whole books have been written -about us and our clever doings. And men have spent years and years -trying to study our ways. Now my family may not be the most wonderful, -but I think it is the best known. We are the little ants who make the -hill with a hole in the middle, which you so often see on sandy paths, -or roadsides, or in dry fields.” - -Ruth had edged closer, and was listening eagerly. Once more the little -ant looked at her approvingly, then went on: - -“Some people think our houses are queer, because they are dark. Of -course we have no windows, only a door, and that is a hole in the roof. -We like it so though, and you might be surprised if you could see our -many wonderful galleries and chambers. We made them all too. Dug them -out of the earth, with our feet, throwing the soil out behind us, until -the burrow grew too deep. Then we had to take it out grain by grain. We -made our pillars and supports also, using damp earth for mortar. We -don’t mind work, but we _do_ mind human giants carelessly putting their -feet in the middle of our hill and breaking in upon our private life. -Those accidents will happen though, and our first thought is always the -babies. They have no legs, and we have no hands, so we take them in our -jaws, and speed away with them to our underground chambers, where they -will be safe. I have seen human babies carried when they _did_ have -legs. There is no excuse for that. - -[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF THE MOUND-BUILDER ANT] - -“Another thing, I know better than to call a human baby an egg, but, -would you believe me, there are lots of people who think our babies are -eggs. I have heard them called so. Now the reason we are so careful of -our babies is because if there were no babies there would be no ants, -and that brings me to the queen, for without her there would be no -babies, because there would be no eggs, and babies always begin by being -eggs. Only the queen lays eggs, remember that. She is important for this -reason, and no other. She is not our ruler, as some suppose. In fact, we -have no ruler. Ants do as they please, but they usually please to do -what is best for the whole community. We have many queens, but they are -not jealous of each other, as the bee queens are. They do not look like -us workers. They are ever so much larger, and were hatched with wings. -The males also have wings, but it really matters very little what they -have. They are such a weakly set, and after they go abroad with the -queens, when they take the one flight of their lives, they usually die, -or something eats them, and so they are settled. It is the queens who -interest us. Some of them we never see again. They go off somewhere and -start new colonies, or something may eat them too, but those that come -back either unhook their wings, or we do it for them. Then they settle -down and begin to lay eggs. Their egg laying is not after the fashion of -bee queens, who go to certain cells and leave eggs in them. The ants -drop their eggs as they walk around.” - -“Don’t they get lost?” asked Ruth. - -“No, indeed. Workers follow and pick up every one. They take good care -of those precious eggs, too, and when they hatch into helpless grubs, -without wings or feet, our work begins in earnest. Every morning we -carry them into the sunshine, and bring them down again at night. We -fondle them too, and keep them clean by licking them all over. Then of -course they must be fed, and, like other babies, they prefer milk.” - -“And I know where you get the milk!” cried Ruth, all excitement. “It is -from the aphides, isn’t it? The cicada told me. The aphides are his -cousins. He doesn’t think so much of them, but he says you do.” - -“Well, why shouldn’t we? They give us the most delicious milk. We have a -fine herd of aphides now pasturing on a stalk of sweetbrier, and when -Winter comes we will keep their eggs down in our nest, and put them on -the sweetbrier in the Spring, so that the little aphides which hatch -from them will have plenty to eat. Yes, and we may even build tiny sheds -for them to keep their enemies from reaching them.” - -“I wonder if you intend to talk all day?” broke in a sharp voice. “I -sha’n’t wait another minute.” - -It was not Mrs. Horntail, as Ruth thought at first, but Madame Vespa -Maculata, or, in plain English, the white-faced hornet, and, as she was -a fiery lady, no one disputed her when she said: - -“I am the largest and most distinguished of my family, and I build a -nest whose delicacy and beauty make it a wonderful piece of insect -architecture. It is proper that I should speak first, and I will speak -right now.” - -“Speak, by all means,” said the little ant. “I have quite finished.” - -“Then move,” answered Vespa; “I need space.” - -The whole audience gave it to her, including Ruth, who did not edge up -close, as she did to the other speakers. - -“It is this way,” she whispered to Belinda. “Those sharp people are very -interesting, but it is better not to get too near until you know them -quite well.” - -[Illustration: “VESPA MACULATA”] - -“I suppose,” Madame Vespa was saying, “I suppose we wasps can scarcely -be called general favourites. We have a sting, you see, but, my friends, -that was intended for laying eggs, and if we use it on people it is -because they meddle in our business. It is our way. We _will_ sting -those who bother us. Now, in our community—for we are social wasps—the -female is unquestionably the better half. We have our rights and we -insist on them. My mate was a good-for-nothing fellow, like the rest of -them. I didn’t marry him until Fall, and he soon left me, and did -nothing but perch around in the sunshine with others like him, and I had -all the hard work of the home. Finally he died. I suppose he couldn’t -help that, but I doubt if he would have made an effort anyhow. Well, -reproaches are of no use now, for he is very much dead by this time. I -have had a whole Winter’s sleep since I saw him last. We queen wasps -always sleep in Winter. We are the only ones of the colony who do not -die when cold weather comes. You see, our community is not like the -bees. It lasts only for a Summer, and each Spring the queens wake up and -start a new one. That was what I did. I slept in the crevice of a barn -and left it full of plans. You can imagine the task before me, but I was -plucky and soon chose a tree to suit me. My house was made of paper, and -I should like to say right here that we wasps are the first paper makers -in the world, for while Egypt still traced her records in stone, or on -the inner bark of the papyrus, my ancestors were manufacturing paper, -that man has finally learned to make in the same way. For paper is only -vegetable fibre reduced to a pulp and pressed into sheets.” - -Ruth’s eyes were wide with astonishment, and she was edging nearer to -Madame Vespa. - -“Can you really make paper out of wood?” she asked. - -“Of course. See my jaws? They are made to chew wood. Not decayed wood -either. That may do for wasps who live under ground, for the brownish -paper it makes isn’t strong enough to stand exposure. I choose good -wood, and I make fine gray paper.” - -“I wish you would tell me how you do it,” begged Ruth. - -“Why, I simply gnaw the wood with my powerful jaws, and chew it until it -is a pulpy mass, then I spread it in a sheet, wherever I wish it, and -smooth and pat it with my feet. See how flat they are? I have heard of -people beginning their houses at the cellar and building up. I consider -that perfectly ridiculous. I always begin at the top. First, I make a -slender stem or support to fasten the nest to the tree. Then I make -three or more six-sided cells, which I hang from the support, and lay an -egg in each, fastening it in with glue, for the open side of the cell is -down. After this I enclose my cells with a wall of paper, and by this -time, I am glad to say, my children begin to hatch, and though at first -they look like horrid little worms, who can’t help themselves at all, I -always know they will grow like me soon, and do a great deal of work. - -“Feeding them isn’t an easy job, I can tell you, especially when it is -added to my other duties, but, after a while, each baby weaves a little -silken door over its cell, and goes to sleep. When she wakes she is a -wasp, and the first thing she does is to wash her face and polish her -antennæ, nor is it long before she gets to work. My first children are -always workers, and after a number of them are hatched I can give my -whole time to laying eggs.” - -“But when the nest is once done?” began Ruth, who had forgotten her fear -entirely and was now quite close to Madame Vespa. - -“The nest done?” repeated the fiery lady. “You should know that our nest -is never done. New cells must be added, old walls gnawed down, and fresh -ones built up to enclose larger combs. Indeed, we are never idle. We -ventilate as the bees do, and we have sentinels too. Later in the season -I lay eggs that hatch out drones, and last of all, the queen eggs. They -are——” - -“Now you would think,” said a yellow jacket, buzzing up excitedly, “you -would really think that Vespa might mention the fact that other wasps -exist, but not she. Now I want to tell you, the white-faced hornet -_isn’t_ the whole thing. There are yellow jackets too.” - -“We have eyes,” said Madame Vespa, “but go ahead and talk, and get -through, for pity’s sake.” - -“Yes, I mean to talk, and I shall get through when I please. We always -insist that people shall respect our rights, and they generally do -or—something happens. Our nests are quite as remarkable as Vespa’s, -though we do not hang them from trees, as she is in the habit of doing. -Our cousin, Mrs. Polistes, also makes a paper nest, but she builds only -a layer of cells, with not a sign of a wall about them. Any one can look -right in on her private life.” - -“I’m quite willing they should,” spoke up Mrs. Polistes, a long, slender -brown wasp, with a yellow line around her body. “I could wall up my -house if I wished to, but I _don’t_ and I _won’t_; so there.” - -“They all have awful tempers, haven’t they?” said Ruth to Mrs. Horntail. - -“Tempers?” repeated that lady. “They are perfect pepper pots, though I -must say Mrs. Polistes isn’t usually as bad as the others.” - -“I am talking,” called the yellow jacket, “and the rest of the audience -will please keep still. As I was saying, though I doubt if you all heard -it, there are other members of our family who have not been mentioned -yet. We have miners, masons, and carpenters just like the bees. Of -course they are solitary, and——” - -“I object!” interrupted Mrs. Muddauber. “I won’t be bunched in with ever -so many others. I will speak for myself.” - -She was quite graceful, with a waist as slender as a thread, but she -jerked her wings about in such a nervous and fidgety fashion that Mrs. -Horntail declared she must have St. Vitus’s dance. - -“I haven’t any such thing,” answered Mrs. Muddauber, angrily. “I haven’t -any time to dance. I’m nervous, that’s all. Anybody would be nervous -with all the work I have to do, and my mate such a lazy fellow that he -never thinks of lending me a helping mandible in making my home. He says -he doesn’t live very long, and wants to enjoy himself while he can. -Speaking of houses, I don’t approve of paper ones. I always make mine of -mud. I’m a mason, you see. I get one room finished, and lay an egg in -it. Then I go to market to get my baby’s dinner.” - -“But you haven’t any baby,” objected Mrs. Horntail. “Your egg doesn’t -hatch as soon as it is laid, I know that.” - -“What of it? The egg will be a baby sometime, and the baby will be -hungry. He will not be a vegetarian either. He will want meat. Juicy -spiders are what he prefers, and he likes them fresh. Now if I should -kill them they would be anything but fresh when he is ready to eat them, -so I merely sting them until they are quite paralyzed, then I put them -in the room with my egg and seal it up. I build a number of cells with -an egg and spiders in each, but I am not a jug builder. I have no time -to fool after such silly affairs as you sometimes see on twigs and -bushes.” - -“She isn’t artistic enough, she had better say,” remarked the little jug -builder. “My nests are wonderfully pretty. I have heard many people say -so. I am very careful to give them a delicate shape. I line them with -silk too, but I will not tell you how I make this silk. Even the wise -men have not discovered our secret.” - -“Disagreeable creature!” remarked Mrs. Horntail; “but then what can you -expect from a wasp of any kind? Now who _is_ making that dreadful noise? -I shall certainly be a wreck before I get away from this place. People -who buzz in such a fashion ought certainly to be turned out. But there, -what’s the use of asking? I might know it could only be——” - -“Sir Bumble Bee at your service.” And a big fellow dressed all in black -and gold buzzed up before the angry Mrs. Horntail. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER XII - THE HONEY MAKERS - - Gaily we fly, my fellows and I, - Seeking the honey our hives to supply. - - -“I am an American,” he went on, in a voice which all could hear. “A -native of this great and glorious country, and I have a right to buzz, -or make any noise I please. Those little bees who make honeycomb are -foreigners—immigrants. Useful citizens, I will grant, but still -immigrants. Now, _my_ ancestors were here when Columbus discovered -America. Do you know that my name is Bombus, spelt with a big ‘B’? Now, -to show you how useful we bumble bees are, I shall tell you a story. -Once upon a time—are you all listening?” - -“I am,” answered Ruth, quickly. “Please go on.” - -“Well, once upon a time there was no red clover in Australia, and the -farmers of that country decided to take American seed there and plant -it. The first year the crop grew finely. There were plenty of flowers, -but no seeds. Of course that was bad, they needed seed for the next -year’s sowing. Well, once more they brought seed from America, and once -more the crop grew finely, but not a seed came from it. Then the people -began to think, and after a while they found out the trouble. They -hadn’t the American bumble bee and they had to have him, for, my -friends, we, only, of all the bees, can fertilize the red clover -blossom, for only we have tongues long enough to reach its nectar cups -and the cell where its precious pollen is hidden. You may not think our -tongue so long, because it is rolled up when we are not using it, but -look!” And he unrolled a long brown tongue, which, in a moment, seemed -gone again. - -“Gracious!” said Ruth. - -“Now do you wonder that we can reach down into the red clover? When _we_ -went to Australia the clover not only grew, but set seeds too.” - -“But,” questioned Ruth, “do different flowers have different bees to -come to them, and how do you know?” - -“Ah, that’s just it. A voice within us seems to whisper, ‘Go to the -blossom whose heart you can best reach, feed upon its honey and take -your fill of its golden dust.’ We know it to be the law, and we obey, -and, even as we obey, the pollen clings to our hairy bodies, and we bear -it to the next flower we visit. This is what usually happens, but -sometimes,” he added, as though ashamed, “I must say, we break the law, -and, finding a flower whose honey we cannot reach, we use our tongues to -cut a hole in the spot where we know the nectar is hidden and enter from -the outside. Plainly speaking, it is the way of the thief, getting our -feast without paying for it. For the bee who takes it so carries away no -pollen, and an honest bee should never act so. Now perhaps you would -like to know how we bumble bees began life? I am sure the little girl -would.” And Ruth nodded an emphatic “Yes.” - -“We do not live all Winter, as honey bees do. Only a few queens sleep -through the cold months, and they do not need food; so while we make a -little honey to eat in Summer, we do not lay by any stores for Winter, -and naturally we make no combs. What looks like them are the silken -cocoons our babies spin. If I were a queen, I wouldn’t be here. Queens -have too much work to do to be abroad in Summer. You may see them in the -early Spring flying about and hunting up good home sites. A hole under a -log is often chosen, and gathering nectar and pollen the queen carries -it to this underground palace. In the mass she lays an egg, then gathers -more, in which she also lays an egg. In this way her house is soon full. -When the eggs hatch, the babies eat the pollen and nectar they find -around them. I was just such a baby, and, being a gentleman, I haven’t -much to do. I shall probably marry a queen some day, but now I simply -play in the sunshine. We bumble bees belong to the social branch of the -family, but there are many bees who live alone. They all follow trades. -There is the carpenter, who isn’t furry like us, but black and shiny. -She can bore right into solid wood and make cells for her eggs. Then -there are the miners, who burrow into the ground, and the masons, who -make nests out of grains of sand glued together, or out of clay or mud. -Some of the carpenters line their nests with pieces of leaves, which -they cut out with their sharp jaws. They have been called upholsterers -and they——” - -“This is all very interesting,” interrupted a honey bee, “but really I -must speak now. I have so much to say, and my work is waiting.” - -“Talk, by all means,” answered Sir Bumble Bee, gallantly. “I am a -gentleman, and I always yield to ladies.” - -“Thank you, but I can’t call myself a lady. I am just a worker honey -bee. My name is Apis Mellifica, but I do belong to a wonderful family. I -will admit that. We are the greatest wax makers in the world. I heard -somebody once say that bees are always in a hurry, while butterflies -seem to take their time. Now there’s a good reason for that. Butterflies -haven’t any work to do. They do not even see their children, and never -take care of them, while bees have thousands of babies to feed and look -after. Then you must know we clean house every day, for we are extremely -neat housekeepers. We clean ourselves also, and we have combs and -brushes for that purpose.” - -The words combs and brushes seemed to have quite an effect on the bees -and ants in the audience, and many began to make their toilets, Miss -Apis among them. They looked so very funny that Ruth laughed outright, -but she quickly settled down to listen, as Miss Apis, feeling herself -quite clean, said briskly: - -[Illustration: THE QUEEN BEE AND HER BODYGUARD OF DRONES] - -“Now I will tell a story. Once upon a time there was a large hive under -an apple tree. A hedge sheltered it from the wind, and the tree shaded -it from the sun, which made it very pleasant for the family who lived -there. It was a very large family, for there were thousands and -thousands of members, but they lived together in peace, each doing her -own share of work. Of course there was a queen. She had a long, slender -body and short wings. This did not matter, for she had only flown from -the hive once, and then she had a bodyguard of drones. Maybe you think -that because she was a queen she had nothing to do. It is true, she was -not obliged to gather honey, make wax, clean house, nurse the children, -or anything of that sort, but she was kept busy laying eggs. She laid -thousands every day.” - -Ruth opened her eyes wide. “Think of it, Belinda!” she said. “Thousands -of eggs a day! Just suppose she was a hen.” - -“She is something far more important,” answered Miss Apis, “and her eggs -are of much more consequence. Besides the queen there were drones and -workers in this big family. The drones did no work at all, though they -were large and thick-bodied. Indeed, all they seemed fit for was to fly -with the queen when she took her one trip abroad, and to eat what the -workers gathered.” - -“See here!” said a drone from the back of the assembly. “I am getting -tired of being called lazy. I should like to say right here that we -drones haven’t any honey sac nor any pollen baskets, not even a pollen -brush, like Mrs. Carpenter Bee, so how can we gather pollen or honey? -Besides, we haven’t any sting to defend ourselves with.” - -“We will not argue the point,” said Miss Apis, “but go on to the -workers, who formed the largest part of the colony. They were hatched to -work, and they were willing to work until they died. They had strong -wings, lots of eyes, and three stomach sacs.” - -“Well, I can’t see any use in so many stomachs,” said Mrs. Horntail, and -Ruth agreed with her, though she did not say so. - -“You would if you were a bee,” said Miss Apis, mildly. “You see, or -maybe you don’t, that eating honey, and just swallowing it, are two -different things. When a bee just swallows honey it passes through the -strainer, or fine hairs, in the first sac, so that every speck of pollen -may be taken out, and into the second one, where it remains until the -bee is ready to unswallow it in the hive. But when a bee wishes to eat -this honey it passes on into the third sac, or the real stomach, and is -digested.” - -“Well, I am sorry I spoke,” said Mrs. Horntail, “for I certainly do not -enjoy these details.” - -“I can’t help that,” answered Miss Apis, undisturbed, “I am telling -facts. Not only had these workers three stomach sacs, but they also had -pollen baskets on their hind legs, for it is from the pollen gathered in -the flowers and mixed with honey and water that the bee bread fed to the -baby bees is made. Not all the workers gathered honey, though. Some made -wax and built combs, and this was a very hard job, for they were obliged -to hang from the ceiling and pick wax from the under side of their -bodies, then chew it and plaster it to the walls. This wax is in eight -scales, or pockets, on the under side of the worker bee’s body, and it -is made by what she eats. When the pockets of one bee were emptied, the -next one took her place, and when the lump on the side of the wall was -large enough another set of bees formed it into cells. Of course you -know that the cells in a beehive are always six-sided. That is because -six-sided cells use all the space, and are also strongest. At least the -wise men say that is probably the reason why we make them so, and they -think they know. Other of the workers took care of the babies. They fed -them and kept them clean, and some aired the hive.” - -Ruth’s eyes were big with questions. Miss Apis saw and continued: - -“They did this by moving their wings rapidly as if they were flying, and -when many did it at the same time the good air was driven around the -hive and the bad air out. Then, of course, there had to be sentinels to -speak to every bee who passed in, and make sure she had the right to -enter, for human people are not our only robbers. There are flies that -look much like us, but ask them to show their pollen baskets, and they -can’t do it. Now it happened one Spring in the hive I am telling you -about that the queen heard a sound that she didn’t like at all. It was a -thin piping, and it came from one of the brood cells, which is the -nursery of the hive.” - -“‘It sounds like a young queen,’ she said, ‘but I have laid no queen -eggs.’ The workers stopped their tasks long enough to talk about it. -They knew perfectly well that it was a young queen, and they also knew -how she happened to be there, even though the old queen had laid no eggs -in the cells on the edge of the comb meant for queen eggs. The old queen -did not wish another royal lady, but the workers knew that if anything -happened to the old queen there would be none to take her place, and -such a thing must not be allowed. So they had taken down two waxen walls -between three small brood cells, where a worker egg lay, and so made it -into a royal cell. They bit away the wax with their jaws, and pressed -the rough edges into shape with their feet, and when the egg within -hatched, instead of feeding the baby with flower dust and honey and -water, as they would have done had they intended it to grow into a -worker, they fed it royal jelly. And so after it had grown and spun a -cocoon, within which it had lain for sixteen days, it had become a young -queen, ready to leave her cell. But the workers knew it would never do -for her to come out just yet, for she and the old queen would have to -fight, and one would surely die.” - -“Oh, how dreadful!” cried Ruth. “Why should they?” - -“Because only one queen may reign in a hive.” - -“‘We will keep her in her cell a little longer,’ the workers said to -each other. And they built a wall of wax over her door, leaving only a -hole large enough for her to thrust out her tongue so that they might -feed her. But though she couldn’t get out, she could complain.” - -“I should have complained too,” said Ruth. - -“Well this young queen complained in earnest, and the old queen heard -her, and of course she tried to get to the cell of this pert young one, -and settle her for all time. This the workers would not allow. They -would not touch their old queen, but they formed a bodyguard about the -cell of the new one, and so protected her.” - -“‘Well,’ said the old queen at last, ‘I can’t stand this. I will not -stay here. I shall take my friends with me and fly away to a place where -only I shall be queen.’” - -“She grew more and more excited, as time passed, and, as many of the -workers were excited too, the hive was in much confusion.” - -“‘We are much too crowded,’ said some of the workers.” - -“‘I can’t seem to settle down to work,’ answered others. ‘What can you -expect when thousands of children are added to a family in a week? The -time comes when the house must be made larger, or some of the members -must move.’” - -“‘We will _move_,’ said the old queen in a tone of decision. ‘We will -move right now. Those who are my friends, come. The others may stay with -the piping thing in yonder cell.’” - -“And without further words, the old queen flew away, followed by a great -many workers.” - -“Now I know what swarming means!” cried Ruth. “I used to wonder about -it.” - -Miss Apis nodded. - -“When the swarm was well away, the workers who were left in the hive -hastened to let out the new queen.” - -“She must have been glad,” said Ruth. - -“Very likely,” agreed Miss Apis. “She began her reign with a flying trip -into the world with the drones. But after this, she came back to the -hive, and settled down to the business of egg-laying. Of course the -workers took up the same old tasks, for whatever happens, workers will -work. That is why they have no love for the drones, and when Winter -comes they drive these lazy ones from the hive.” - -“I think I feel a little bit sorry for the drones,” said Ruth, “if they -can’t help being lazy, as that drone said a while ago.” - -“Well, it is our way,” answered Miss Apis. “Only those who have worked -in the Summer have a right to eat in the Winter. Now my work is calling -me, and I must leave. This story of one hive is true of all. I hope you -have enjoyed it, and so good-by.” - -“There, she is finished at last,” said Mrs. Horntail. “I think this -whole meeting has been most tiresome.” - -But Ruth did not agree with her. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - THE MOST BEAUTIFUL OF ALL - - Lo! the bright train their radiant wings unfurl. - —_Anna L. Barbauld._ - - -“It seems nothing but butterflies!” cried Ruth, running out into the -garden as soon as breakfast was over. - -“Of course,” answered a voice, “the Lepidoptera will meet by the -summer-house.” - -“Does that mean butterflies? And oh, please, may I come?” - -“Yes, to both questions,” was wafted back from the beautiful creature -flitting so gracefully on the light warm breeze. - -“Just like a flower with wings,” thought Ruth as, holding Belinda -closely, she followed as fast as she could go. - -Indeed, they all seemed like flowers with wings, she decided, as she -came into the middle of the gathering. - -“It is the most beautiful we have been to yet,” she whispered to -Belinda, “and I am sure it is going to be the most interesting. I -couldn’t begin to count them.” - -Ruth might well say this, for nearly all the fifty-four families of -moths to be found in America north of Mexico were represented by at -least one member, while there were many from the four families of -butterflies and the two families of skippers. - -Ruth came only just in time, for already one of the moths had begun to -speak. He was a handsome fellow, with fore wings in different shades of -olive. - -“My friends,” he said, “I am called the modest sphinx, and, that being -the case, you may imagine how painful it is for me to put myself forward -in this way. I have been asked, however, to give you a few general -facts. Why I am expected to know these facts is, perhaps, because, being -a sphinx, I should also be wise. Yet I am not the only sphinx here, and, -if I remember aright, the old and historic sphinx _asked_, rather than -_answered_, questions.” - -“He uses awfully big words,” Ruth whispered to her usual confidant, -Belinda. - -“Now to begin,” went on the sphinx, “you know, I suppose, that we belong -to the order Lepidoptera, which means the scale wings, because the -colour of our wings is made by scales so tiny that they are really like -dust. We are divided into moths, butterflies, and skippers, and all of -us are messengers for the flowers, carrying the precious pollen from -blossom to blossom. Our children are generally enemies to the plants. -They are called caterpillars, and seem to have a great many legs, but -really only six of them are true legs and remain when the youngster is -full grown. The others are prolegs. There may be two or there may be -ten. They help in walking, but are shed with the last skin.” - -“Alas!” sighed a voice in the corner. “I haven’t any to shed—that is, in -the middle of my body.” - -Ruth turned as Mr. Looper, otherwise known as the measuring worm, made -this remark. She would have asked a question, for Mr. Looper, rearing -his head after his own queer fashion, seemed quite ready to talk, but -the sphinx stopped her. - -“This is not the time to talk about individual legs,” he said. “We are -trying to get at general differences. Now there are certain ways in -which all moths differ from all butterflies.” - -“I should say so,” said Miss Papilio, a handsome tiger swallowtail. -“Moths have short, stout bodies, and ours are slender.” And Miss Papilio -circled above them so that all might admire her delicate body and the -beauty of her tawny yellow wings, with their gray bands and stripes, and -their ends pointed in true swallowtail fashion. - -“And here is another difference,” she added, coming to rest with her -wings folded together vertically. “We always carry our wings so when we -are not flying. You moths hold yours horizontally, or sloping. Never -upward.” - -“Well, that’s true,” said the sphinx, “and you know we generally have -beautiful feathery antennæ, though I, and a few others, are an exception -to that rule, but you butterflies can boast only very thread-like -antennæ, with a knob at the end.” - -“Enough about that subject,” spoke up Miss Papilio. “What I am wondering -about is why moths like to fly at night, or in the twilight. Now, -butterflies must have sunshine.” - -“We love the cool, soft night, I can’t tell you why,” answered the -sphinx, “and we sleep through the noisy day.” - -“But it is so dangerous to sleep as you do, when birds and other -nuisances are up and doing.” - -“Well, birds are pests, there is no doubt about it, and if it hadn’t -been for them we insects would have possessed the earth long ago, but -you forget, we always choose a place that is nearly the colour of -ourselves, and we look so much like our surroundings that it would take -a sharp eye to find us. We are not brightly coloured, as a rule, like -the butterflies, or if we wear gay colours at all it is usually on our -hind wings, which we hide under the fore wings. Now the general remarks -being made, the audience may view the exhibits and hear their individual -histories.” - -Ruth was up in a second. - -“I must talk to that funny measuring worm,” she said to herself. “Why, -where is he?” she added, standing before the bush on which she had seen -him a while before. - -“Right here,” answered what Ruth thought was a twig, and which proved to -be none other than Mr. Looper himself, who raised his head and began to -walk on his hind legs in his own eccentric fashion. Indeed, not only he, -but a number of other Mr. Loopers, all showing themselves in different -positions. - -[Illustration: “‘SMART CHILDREN, AREN’T THEY?’ ASKED SOME MOTHS”] - -“Smart children, aren’t they?” asked some moths, variously coloured in -black and brown and yellow, hovering above the tree where the loopers -were feeding. “They are ours—that is, not exactly ours, but ours will be -like them when they are hatched. These fellows will soon make little -cradles of leaves and go into the ground to go to sleep, and when they -come out they will be like us. Wonderful, isn’t it?” - -“Yes,” agreed Ruth, “but I’d like to know about their legs.” - -“I can explain that,” said Mr. Looper quickly. “I have no legs in the -middle of my body, and as that part of me isn’t supported, I can’t walk -like other caterpillars, for I _am_ a caterpillar, even if they _do_ -call me a worm.” - -“The legs, or the want of them, is a fault of his ancestors no doubt,” -interrupted a voice. “Probably they walked in his idiotic fashion for -fun, or to be different, even when they did have the right number of -legs, and so lost the use of them, and the legs, too, finally. That -often happens. I could tell you of cases——” - -“Why, you look something like Miss Papilio,” said Ruth, turning to the -last speaker, and interrupting her reminiscences. - -“I am a Miss Papilio,” was the answer, “but not the one you heard a -while ago. She was a tiger swallowtail, while I am a black swallowtail, -different, but quite as handsome in my way. We swallowtails all believe -in dressing well. We are butterflies, not moths, but though I am so -beautiful, I serve some very humble plants. I carry the precious pollen -for them. My children, I’m afraid, will not be so helpful, but what can -one do? I happen to like honey, but they prefer the leaves of parsley, -carrot, celery, and such things. They have large appetites, too.” - -“Everything seems to have an appetite,” said Ruth. - -“Well, my children will be able to eat, I can tell you. See, I have laid -my eggs on this bed of parsley. Ah! there’s a larva now. Not mine, but -mine will be like it. See, he is green, ringed with black and yellow. If -you tease him he will stick out his yellow horns at you, and you won’t -like the odour either. Would you believe I was once like that, and I -slept in a pupa case like the one under the twig there? You know there -always comes a time in the life of every caterpillar, if he lives long -enough of course, when he stops eating for good and wants nothing so -much as to sleep. That came to me, and I crawled from the parsley bed to -an old rail fence and began to spin. The silk was in my body, and it -came through two tubes in my lower lip.” - -“That isn’t the way spiders spin,” said Ruth. “They——” - -“I was not a spider,” said Miss Papilio. “I was a caterpillar, and they -always spin with their mouths. So that is what I did, and before long I -had lashed myself securely to the fence by strong silken loops. Then I -shed my pretty suit, and my skin shrivelled until it was a hard case. In -that safe cradle I went to sleep, and came out in the Spring with six -legs instead of sixteen, a slender tongue in place of sharp, hungry -jaws, and, best of all, four beautiful wings. Oh, the joy of sailing -through wonderful space, and sipping nectar from the sweetest flowers!” - -“We have all felt that way,” said a large red-brown butterfly, whose -wings, lighter below, were veined and bordered by black, with a double -row of white spots on the edges. “Look at the chrysalis from which I -came, and say no more. Can you guess my name?” - -Ruth was obliged to confess that she could not. - -“I have often seen you though,” she added, “or butterflies just like -you.” - -“Probably you have. I am called the monarch, and, frail as I look, I can -fly hundreds of miles without resting. I was just laying some eggs on -this milkweed, and since you are here, you might use your eyes a little. -You may see something worth while.” - -Ruth was using her eyes as best she could, and soon she spied a number -of caterpillars chewing away upon the milkweed leaves. They were lemon -or greenish-yellow, banded with black. - -“Will they grow into butterflies like you?” she asked. - -“Yes,” was the answer, “but there is something more to see.” - -Again Ruth looked, and now saw what appeared to be a little green jewel -dotted with golden nails. - -“Oh!” she cried, “how lovely!” - -“I thought you would say that,” and the monarch fluttered her wings -proudly. “That is our chrysalis, the cradle in which we sleep for our -great transformation. That is one thing the viceroy can’t do, though she -mimics us as much as possible.” - -“Mimics you?” repeated Ruth, in surprise. - -“Yes, certainly. You see we monarchs are wrapped in a magic perfume—that -no birds like, and so they never try to eat us. Now, Mrs. Viceroy hasn’t -this perfume, and to protect herself she tries to imitate our family -colours, so that the birds, mistaking her for one of us, may leave her -alone too. She even flies as we do. See her over there? She is smaller -than I am, but quite like me, except for the black line on her hind -wings. A careless observer would scarcely notice that, however.” - -The monarch floated off to lay some more eggs, and Ruth found herself in -the midst of ever so many tawny brown butterflies, all bordered and -checkered with black, and having wings covered with silver spots. - -“Oh, you are so lovely!” she cried, with shining eyes, and then, as they -passed on, calling back their name, “Fritillaries!” “Fritillaries!” she -turned to see many other dazzling creatures fluttering about her. Some -she had never seen before, but others were like old friends. There were -the meadow browns, the stout-bodied coppers, the slender, beautiful -blues, and more white cabbage butterflies than she could count. The -handsome red admiral flirted with the pretty painted lady, and the -mourning cloaks, with their purple-brown wings, yellow-bordered and -marked with light blue spots, were flitting about, telling everybody how -they had slept all Winter as butterflies, which is most uncommon in the -butterfly world, and were for that reason the first to show themselves -in the Spring. - -“I used to wonder why you were out so early,” said Ruth, “and once I -found one of you in a crevice on a Winter day, and I couldn’t understand -about it.” - -“Well, you do now. We hibernate like many animals.” - -“But you must have been eggs in the beginning,” said Ruth. “The oil -beetle told me that all insects begin as eggs. And will you please tell -me how a butterfly knows the right kind of plant to lay her eggs on? It -always seems to be just the one her caterpillars like to eat. She -doesn’t eat it herself.” - -“Of course not,” answered one of the mourning cloaks. “You need but look -at out tongues to see that we eat only honey. I can’t answer your -question, for none of us knows. Something tells us the proper plant for -our eggs. We lay them there without hesitation, and we lay a great many. -This is necessary, for one never knows what may happen. Most of them may -make a meal for something before they even hatch into caterpillars, and -if some miss this fate, and do hatch, there are any number of birds, and -their enemies, who like nothing so well as a fat, juicy caterpillar for -dinner. Then if that danger is escaped, there are the birds again, and -other hungry things, all anxious to get a taste of the butterfly. So you -can understand that in a life so full of accidents it is important to -have many eggs to begin with.” - -“Yes,” said Ruth, “but——” - -She didn’t finish, for just then she put her hand on what she thought -was a leaf, and, much to her surprise, she found that it was alive. - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - REAL FAIRIES - - or the possible glory that underlies - The passing phase of the meanest things. - _Mrs. Whitney._ - - -Alive it certainly was, this exquisite green moth, which rose on -shimmering wings at Ruth’s touch. No wonder Ruth almost screamed aloud -in her surprised delight. - -“Are you a moonbeam?” she asked. “You are just lovely enough for one.” - -“No, I am not a moonbeam,” was the answer, “_but I am the moon moth, the -Luna_. I am a messenger for the night-blooming flowers, for only the -long tongues of the moths may reach through the deep tubes to their -honeyed hearts. I was taking my day nap when you touched me.” - -[Illustration: “‘I AM THE MOON MOTH, THE LUNA’”] - -“I didn’t know you were there,” said Ruth, “you looked so much like a -leaf.” - -“That is what I wished to look like. Many others are sleeping the same -way. You wouldn’t know them unless they moved. Our larvæ are not -sleeping, however. I can answer for that. They are quite awake and busy -eating the leaves of hickory, walnut, and other trees of that family. -Maybe you have seen them? They are large and handsome, and they spin -very snug cocoons of silk, wrapped about with a dead leaf, very much -like those made by the polyphemus babies.” - -“Now you know your cocoon never had the quantity of silk in it that mine -had,” said a yellowish-brown moth, rising from the trunk of a nearby -tree. - -She was very handsome. There were window-like spots on her wings, and -dusky bands edged with pink. Not far away were her larvæ, having a good -time chewing the leaves of a plumb tree. They were light green, with an -oblique yellow line on each side, and a purplish-brown V-shaped mark -near the end of their bodies. - -“You may always know the polyphemus children by that mark,” said Mrs. -Polyphemus, for it was she who had interrupted the Luna’s remarks. “Now, -speaking of cocoons,” she went on, “as I said before, ours contain a -great deal of silk. They have been used in the making of silk too. Shall -I tell you my story?” - -Of course Ruth wanted to hear it. - -“Very well,” said Mrs. Polyphemus. “I belong to the family of giant -silkworms, though, of course, we are not worms. I began my life on an -elm leaf. It was a lovely morning in May when I was hatched, and the -world seemed a beautiful place to live in. I did not spend much time -admiring the scenery, though, for I was hungry. I ate the shell of my -egg for the first course, then I began to chew elm leaves, and I kept it -up steadily. Naturally I grew, and I changed my skin five times. When I -was ready to make my cocoon I found a twig on the ground among the dead -leaves, and spun a fluffy mass of gray-white silk all about it, and this -wrapped in a dead leaf——” - -“What?” interrupted Mrs. Cecropia, “spin your cocoon on the ground? What -a careless habit. Why not fasten it to the twig of a tree or——” - -“Inside a curled leaf?” added Mrs. Promethea. “That is the safest way. -The wind will rock it and——,” - -“I said nothing about curled leaves,” answered Mrs. Cecropia. “I never -use a curled leaf. I leave that for the leaf rollers. I——” - -“Well, I know swinging would make me ill,” declared Mrs. Polyphemus, -“and I prefer the ground for my cocoon.” - -“Quite right,” agreed Mrs. Hummingbird Moth. “The ground for me, too. -Our children always go down and——” - -“Gracious! you don’t suppose my children would go down in the ground?” -asked Mrs. Polyphemus. “No, indeed; they will sleep in their cocoons, -among the fallen leaves on top. It is snug and cozy too, this cocoon, or -it will be, I should rather say, for it isn’t made yet. I remember mine -though. A mass of coarse silk first, and a coating of varnish inside, -then more silk, and another coating of varnish. I slept soundly, I can -tell you, and when I awoke in the Spring I had only to send from my body -a milky fluid, which softened the varnish and silk, until a doorway was -made for me to come out of. I felt very weak, miserable, and forlorn -just at first. I had but six legs, and my wings seemed of no use -whatever, but after I had hung a while to a twig, and my wings had grown -dry and strong, I was a different being. My body was lighter and smaller -too. Do you know why?” - -The question came suddenly, and Ruth, though she had been listening -intently, could think of no answer. - -“Because the fluids from it were pumped into my wings,” said Mrs. -Polyphemus. “The next time you see a moth just out of its cocoon, -hanging by its feet and waving its wings to and fro, you may know it is -pumping fluids into them, so they may grow big and strong. You may see -many wonderful things if you only keep your eyes open. Well, to go back -to my story: After my wings were strong, I could fly and be as happy as -I pleased. Now it is time for me to lay my eggs.” - -“I wondered if you ever meant to stop talking,” said Mrs. Promethea. -“There are others, you know. I really can’t see how you Polyphemuses -grow up, considering the careless way your cocoons lie about on the -ground. Perhaps the people who say that caterpillar children are not -cared for have you in mind. Generally I believe it is better for -children to help themselves. You never hear caterpillars say, ‘I can’t -do this, and will some one please help me to change my skin, or some one -spin my cocoon for me?’ No, they do these things for themselves, and ask -no advice about them either. Still I do believe one can’t be too careful -about cocoons, for once you are in one and asleep you can’t defend -yourself. It is much better to make them safe to begin with. That was -what I thought when I made mine. I enclosed it in a leaf, and then to -make sure the leaf wouldn’t fall in the Winter winds, I fastened it to a -branch of the tree with a thread of silk. No wind or anything else could -break that thread. It was so strong. Just try it,” she added to Ruth, -“the next time you find a Promethean cocoon. You will probably see a -number together, but all will have the same strong fastenings. Another -thing, I didn’t have to make a hole to get out by, as Mrs. Polyphemus -told us she did. My cocoon had a valve in the top, and I had only to -crawl through that. Talk about difference in looks! My mate is so unlike -me you would think he belonged to another species. Our children are very -handsome. Fully two inches long and blue-green in colour, not to mention -the row of lovely black knobs along their bodies.” - -“They can’t compare with ours,” said a fine cecropia, settling on a -branch and spreading her beautiful wings. - -She was very large and very handsome. Her wings were grayish, with many -markings of white, brick-red, pink, and violet, and with splendid eye -spots on each. - -“We are the largest of the giant silkworms,” she said, “and our larvæ -are as handsome in their way as we are in ours. You can see them on the -plum trees over there. They are wearing their last suits, of course, -for, like all caterpillars, they eat so much they need bigger skins -every little while.” - -“They _are_ pretty for caterpillars,” agreed Ruth, looking at the -blue-green creatures, with their knobs of red, yellow, and blue, all -bearing black bristles. - -“They are pretty enough for _anything_,” declared Mrs. Cecropia, with -decision. “Our cocoon is large and fine too. Indeed, everything about us -is first class. We never enclose our cocoon in a leaf, though sometimes -a dead leaf may cling to the outside. We spin it along a branch, to -which it is securely fastened. Some are larger and looser than others, -but all are beauties.” - -“Well, _I_ can’t boast of fine clothes,” said a plainly dressed little -moth, who was quietly hiding on a shrub, “but I belong to a very old -family, and a very useful one. We were known and appreciated in Asia -more than four thousand years ago. I, too, came from a tiny egg. My body -was black, covered by stiff hairs, and of course I was hungry. I liked -best the leaf of the mulberry tree, and I ate so much I had to change my -dress often, as all caterpillars do. They all get too big for their -skins, and that is what I did, but, finally, I lost my appetite, and I -knew the time had come for me to spin my silken cradle. And now I may -boast with good reason, for I am the true silkworm. My cocoon is spun in -one thread a _quarter of a mile long_.” - -“Indeed!” said Mrs. Cecropia. “I should like to know how you measured -it.” - -“I haven’t measured it,” the silkworm answered, “but the wise men have. -Not my particular cocoon, you understand, but those of our family, and -they are said to average that. They are very pretty too, these cocoons. -I suppose you have all seen them? I was nine days making mine, and three -days after that I cast off my baby clothes and went to sleep. I was very -weak when I awoke and left my cocoon cradle, but I soon grew stronger -and could walk, for you must know that the family to which I belong is -not in the habit of flying. Its members are homebodies and seldom use -their wings. Many of us, I may say the majority, do not live to be -moths, for our cocoons are so precious, because of the long silk thread, -that the larvæ are killed before they come out.” - -“Why?” said Ruth. - -“Because when the larvæ come out they break the thread. And now perhaps -you understand how very useful we are, for all the silks, satins, -ribbons, and velvets in the world are made by us.” - -Ruth’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. - -“It is a big boast, isn’t it?” said a very small straw-coloured moth, -flitting rapidly about. “It is a true one, though. My children make -cocoons too, and I made one myself, but it was quite unlike a -silkworm’s, and I have an idea we are not considered useful either. I do -not work among the flowers. I belong to the Wool Exchange, at least that -is what somebody said about me once. My eggs will not be laid on a -plant, or any growing thing. I shall choose carpet, or fine cloth, or -something of that sort, and when my babies hatch they will gnaw away the -fibres of the cloth, and eat and eat. Then what they don’t eat they will -use to cover themselves with, binding the threads together with silk -from their own bodies.” - -“I know you, anyway,” said Ruth. “You ate my Winter dress full of holes. -At least it was some moths like you.” - -“No, my dear, not moths, but their caterpillar babies did the eating.” - -“Well, it wasn’t nice, whoever did it,” declared Ruth, with some heat. - -“Nice?” repeated Mrs. Clothes Moth. “I suppose it is nice to kill the -silkworm babies and make dresses from their cradles, and nice to do a -lot of other things that I could mention. I guess you had better not -talk.” - -Ruth was silent. She felt she had the worst of the argument. - -“You must not mind,” whispered a large and beautiful moth whose wings -were of many delicate shades of ash-gray marked with black. - -Ruth turned to the speaker. - -“You are something like the sphinx moth,” she said. - -“Yes. I am a sphinx,” was the answer. “All of us look somewhat alike, -though some are smaller than others, and colours vary. But our wings are -always clear cut, our scales close fitting, and our colours quiet; a -tailormade air about us, as it were. We are sometimes called hawk moths, -because our wings are narrow, long, and strong, and sometimes -hummingbird moths, because we fly at twilight, and poise above a flower -while extracting its honey, just as hummingbirds do.” - -“But why are you named the sphinx?” asked Ruth. “You haven’t told me -that.” - -“Well, you see, our larvæ have a queer habit of rearing themselves up in -front and remaining in that position, and the wise men thought they -looked something like the old Egyptian Sphinx. There’s a sphinx moth -caterpillar on that tomato vine.” - -“He is awful fat and green,” said Ruth. “Can you show me his cocoon?” - -Even the larva laughed when Ruth asked this question. - -“Dear, dear! what ignorance!” said the moth. “Just put your hand in that -soft earth and take out what is there.” - -Ruth obeyed, and presently brought up a dark brown case, pointed at each -end. - -“That is our pupa case,” explained the moth, “and in it is wrought our -wonderful transformation. We do not weave cocoons, but the little brown -case holds the same miracle of life and growth.” - -“Well, there is just as much life and growth under my old blanket as in -any pupa case, or cocoon, that was ever made.” - -The speaker was a hairy caterpillar, chestnut brown in the middle, and -black at each end. - -“That’s the woolly bear,” explained the sphinx. “Just pick him up, and -see what will happen.” - -“I know,” answered Ruth, but nevertheless she took the little brown -fellow in her hand, whereupon he promptly curled up in a tight ball and -rolled to the ground. - -“I will do it every time,” said the caterpillar. “I have been called the -hedge hog because of that cute trick.” - -“It _is_ cute,” agreed Ruth, “but what do you mean by your blanket?” - -“Oh, as to that, I don’t fool after cocoons, or pupa cases, or the rest -of it. I simply take off my hair when I am ready for my long sleep, and -make it into a blanket, which covers me snugly.” - -“But it is a cocoon just the same,” persisted Ruth. - -“Well, you may call it what you please, I say it is a blanket. When I -wake from my sleep under it I am no longer a caterpillar, but a moth.” - -“Like me,” added a dull yellow moth, spreading her black dotted wings. -“I am the Isabella, if you care to know.” - -“So you see,” rejoined the woolly bear, “it really doesn’t matter -whether it is a cocoon, a pupa case, or a blanket which encloses the -glory of our transformation, the marvel of it is just the same.” - - -Long after they had drifted by, that gay company of butterflies and -moths, Ruth sat thinking of the wonder of it all. - -“Didn’t I tell you, Belinda,” she whispered, “didn’t I tell you it was -really living in Fairyland, and now, when we can hear what they say, and -they tell us such interesting things, it is more Fairyland than ever. -The Wind told us to watch and listen, and we will do that. We will watch -and listen with all our might, for oh! Belinda, there is such a lot to -learn yet.” - -[Illustration] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - 2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - 3. 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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 Real Fairy Folk - -Author: Louise Jamison - -Illustrator: James M. Gleeson - -Release Date: December 8, 2020 [EBook #63992] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REAL FAIRY FOLK *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, Mary Glenn Krause, Charlene -Taylor, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><b>Transcriber’s Note:</b></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='figleft id001'> -<img src='images/i_001.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='xxlarge'>THE REAL FAIRY FOLK</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='Frontispiece' class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i_004.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘I FEEL THE WIND,’ CRIED RUTH, WITH BRIGHT EYES. ‘DEAR VOICE, ARE YOU THE WIND?’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='titlepage dbox'> - -<div> - <h1 class='c002'><i><span class='xlarge'>THE</span><br /> Real Fairy Folk</i></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - <div><i><span class='small'>BY</span></i></div> - <div><i><span class='large'>LOUISE JAMISON</span></i></div> - <div class='c004'><i>ILLUSTRATED</i></div> - <div><i><span class='small'>BY</span></i></div> - <div><i><span class='large'>JAMES M. GLEESON</span></i></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i_titlepage-detail.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='small'><i>NEW YORK</i> <i>GARDEN CITY, N. Y.</i></span></div> - <div><i>DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY</i></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='small'><i>MCMXII</i></span></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN</div> - <div class='c004'>COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_006.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><i>To my Mother and Father this little book is lovingly dedicated</i></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_vii'>vii</span> -<img src='images/i_009.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='CONTENTS'> - <tr> - <th class='c006'><span class='small'>CHAPTER</span></th> - <th class='c007'> </th> - <th class='c008'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>I.</td> - <td class='c007'>In the Old Willow Tree</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>II.</td> - <td class='c007'>Two Funny Gentlemen and What They Said</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_13'>13</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>III.</td> - <td class='c007'>Ruth and the Wonderful Spinners</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_33'>33</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>IV.</td> - <td class='c007'>Mrs. Mosquito and Her Kin</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>V.</td> - <td class='c007'>Ruth Hears About Some Water Babies</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_64'>64</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>VI.</td> - <td class='c007'>Ruth Goes to a Concert</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_82'>82</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>VII.</td> - <td class='c007'>Ruth Meets All Sorts and Conditions</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_100'>100</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>VIII.</td> - <td class='c007'>Mrs. Tumble Bug and Others</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_118'>118</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>IX.</td> - <td class='c007'>Little Mischief Makers</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_134'>134</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>X.</td> - <td class='c007'>Some Queer Little People</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_148'>148</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XI.</td> - <td class='c007'>Wise Folks and Fiery Ones</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_159'>159</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XII.</td> - <td class='c007'>The Honey Makers</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_180'>180</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XIII.</td> - <td class='c007'>The Most Beautiful of All</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_197'>197</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>XIV.</td> - <td class='c007'>Real Fairies</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_212'>212</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_ix'>ix</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_011.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='ILLUSTRATIONS'> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘I feel the wind,’ cried Ruth, with bright eyes. ‘Dear voice, are you the Wind?’”</td> - <td class='c009'><i><a href='#Frontispiece'>Frontispiece</a></i></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <th class='c007'></th> - <th class='c009'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘Sometimes it seems as if it must be Fairyland all around, only I’m deaf’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_8'>8</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“Ruth, holding Belinda tightly, drew close to the edge of the brook”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_14'>14</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘How’s that?’ and with a splash a big green and brown frog landed on the stone at her feet”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘I am a frog, of course, but my family name is Rana’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_16'>16</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“That nice fat toad in the garden”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_18'>18</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘I didn’t move, but my tongue <i>did</i>’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_19'>19</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘I was soon swimming about with a lot of other tads, slapping tails, and having all kinds of fun’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_23'>23</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“A loud splash and Mr. Rana’s long legs disappeared in the brook”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_24'>24</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_x'>x</span>“‘I’m right over here in the shade’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_25'>25</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘The mother spins the cocoon of silk from her own body’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_38'>38</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘Why, it’s Daddy Long Legs’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_46'>46</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘I made one of these pits and in the funnel end I lay in wait for ants’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_76'>76</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>The wise grasshopper</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_88'>88</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘My friends, there are ants and ants’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_160'>160</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘Then there are ants who keep slaves’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_162'>162</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘Then there are ants who cut pieces from green leaves and carry them as parasols’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_163'>163</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>The house of the mound-builder ant</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_165'>165</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“Vespa Maculata”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_170'>170</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>The Queen Bee and her bodyguard of drones</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_187'>187</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘Smart children, aren’t they?’ asked some moths”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_203'>203</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'>“‘I am the moon moth, the Luna’”</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_213'>213</a></td> - </tr> -</table> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figleft id001'> -<img src='images/i_013.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='xxlarge'>THE REAL FAIRY FOLK</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span> -<img src='images/i_015.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER I<br /> <span class='large'>IN THE OLD WILLOW TREE</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>He prayeth best who loveth best</div> - <div class='line'>All things both great and small.</div> - <div class='line in32'>—<i>Coleridge.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>Ruth climbed to her favourite perch -in the old willow tree, and settled -Belinda in a crotch beside her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now,” she said, drawing a long breath, -“we will be cool and comfy.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Certainly if there was a cool spot to be -found on this hot August morning it was in -the shade of this big willow.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Her very own tree,” as Ruth always called -it, for, since she could climb at all, she had -loved to sit among its drooping branches and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>hear the leaves whispering together the -wonderful things, which she knew they were -telling each other, even though she could -not understand them.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then, too, she could look down into the -brook, and watch the doings of the queer -little people who made their home there.</p> - -<p class='c012'>These, like all the tiny folk of the outdoor -world, were a source of never-failing interest -and wonder.</p> - -<p class='c012'>In their company, Ruth was never lonely, -even though she had neither brother nor -sister, nor indeed any little boy or girl to -play with.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Still it would be so much nicer if she could -only talk to the bugs and things. There were -such lots of questions she wanted to ask them.</p> - -<p class='c012'>How she did wish that the funny old tumble -bugs would stop rolling their ball, and tell -her all about it. They never did, though. -They just kept at that ball as though it was -the most important thing in the world.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then she wanted to know what the bees -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>whispered to the flowers as they buzzed -above them, and whether the butterflies -spoke to each other as they flew by in the -sunshine.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There were the ants, too, always so busy, -and in such a hurry. How fast they could -run when any one upset their nest; and how -funny they looked carrying those queer white -bundles.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mother had called these bundles the ants’ -babies, but Ruth thought them very odd -babies, and she wondered if they had to -be fed and bathed and put to sleep like human -babies.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She wanted to know all about them, and -about the spiders too, and their wonderful -webs.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Just think what a chance Miss Muffet -had,” she said to Belinda, when both were -settled to her satisfaction in the willow-tree -perch. “Only a very friendly spider would -come up and sit down by you, and who knows -the interesting things it could tell. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>idea of being afraid of a spider anyhow! -You might as well be afraid of that funny -old toad in the garden, and I don’t believe -he could hurt you if he tried. I guess he -doesn’t do anything but sleep.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth had been trying to talk to the toad -that very morning. He had looked so solemn -and so wise as he sat under the shade of a -big stone in the damp corner of the garden, -“but,” as she said, “he wasn’t any good at -all,” for he only looked at her, then drew a -film over his eyes, and went on swallowing -very hard.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“He can talk, though, I know,” she said -to Belinda. “They can all talk in their -way. It sounds like noise to us, because -we can’t understand. Do hear them, Belinda? -What are they saying?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But of course Belinda could not answer. -She never said more than “mama,” in a -very squeaky voice, and you had to squeeze -her ever so hard to make her do that.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth sighed softly, then, leaning forward -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>with her elbow propped on her knee, and her -chin resting in the palm of her hand, she -listened to the flood of sound about her; the -hum and buzz that came from garden and -orchard, from field and meadow; thousands -of tiny voices, rising and falling and rising -again, as they told their fascinating life -stories, from every leaf and twig and grass -blade.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They are talking just as fast as they can,” -Ruth said again, “but I don’t know what -they are saying. Oh! if I only did. Why -don’t people learn their language instead of -German and French and lots of other old -things that aren’t any good? It would be -ever so much nicer, and they could find out -so many wonderful things, couldn’t they, -Belinda?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But, as usual, Belinda only stared at Ruth, -and said nothing.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span> -<img src='images/i_020.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘SOMETIMES IT SEEMS AS IF IT MUST BE FAIRYLAND ALL AROUND, ONLY I’M DEAF’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>“Oh, dear,” said Ruth, “if you were only -alive, and could tell me things, you’d be ever -so much more interesting, but then maybe,” -she added, thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t understand -you any better than I do them. Maybe -doll language is different too. It is all so -puzzling. Sometimes it seems as if it must -be Fairyland all around, only I’m deaf. -I wonder if there’s a word that lets you in -so you can know about things, like ‘Open -Sesame’ in ‘The Forty Thieves.’ Oh, Belinda, -do you think there is?” And Ruth clasped -her hands together at the very thought. -“But we can’t find it out,” she added, -more soberly, “and so it wouldn’t be any -use.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Watch and listen! Watch and listen!” -said a voice so close to her ear that Ruth -jumped, and nearly fell to the ground.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She looked about her expectantly, but -no one was in sight, either in the tree or -under it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is very queer,” she said. “You can’t -talk, Belinda, and I don’t see a single person -anywhere.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is not so queer as you think,” the voice -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>replied, as close to her ear as before. “You -cannot see me, but you can feel me.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>A passing breeze had touched her cheek -and was softly ruffling her hair.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I feel the wind,” cried Ruth, with bright -eyes. “Dear voice, are you the Wind? -Why have you never talked to me before? -If you only knew how I have wanted some -one to talk to me, and tell me things! People -don’t seem to like to answer questions. They -haven’t time or something. But you must -know such a lot. The wind goes everywhere.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, I am a great traveller, but, child, the -marvellous things are not all far off. There -is a wonderland right here at home, if one -has the eyes to see, the ears to hear, and the -heart to feel and understand.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth clapped her hands, and her eyes -danced.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I knew it! I knew it!” she cried eagerly. -“I told Belinda it was Fairyland all around -us; but, dear Wind,” she added, while a little -cloud filled her eyes, “I do see and hear -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>lots of things, but I <i>can’t</i> understand, and I -<i>do</i> want to know all the whys and becauses. -Won’t you please, <i>please</i> tell me?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I may not do that, child,” was the answer, -“for each thing speaks in its own language, -and will tell its own story to those -who seek truly and earnestly. You are a -thoughtful child, and for that reason it will -be given to you to know those things which -you most desire to learn. Only remember, -‘Watch and be patient,’ and never forget the -password ‘Brotherhood,’ for even the lowest -creature has some rights to be respected.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The breeze passed on, softly singing through -the willow branches, but Ruth sat without -moving, her eyes wide with eager wonder.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I didn’t dream it,” she said at last in an -awed little whisper. “It was as real as -anything could be that you couldn’t see. I -suppose ‘brotherhood’ means not to be unkind -or cruel to things. Oh, Belinda, just -think of it: hearing what they say, the bees -and the butterflies and the dear little crickets -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>and funny old grasshoppers,” and she snatched -Belinda to her and hugged her tight. “It -will be harder than ever to go into the house -now, won’t it?” she finished soberly. Then -she sat for a few minutes thinking, very quiet, -but very happy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Kerchug—kerchug—kerchug,” called a -voice from the brook, and Ruth started so -suddenly she nearly dropped Belinda, and -caught a branch just in time to keep herself -from falling.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Gracious,” she said, “how that scared me. -I do believe it was that big green and brown -frog. See him down there, Belinda? He -is just showing his head and his funny eyes -out of the water. Let’s get down close to -him, and maybe he’ll come out all the way.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_024.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_025.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER II<br /> <span class='large'>TWO FUNNY GENTLEMEN AND WHAT THEY SAID</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Nothing useless is or low.</div> - <div class='line in30'>—<i>Tennyson.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>“To be sure I’ll come out,” answered -a croaky voice, as Ruth, holding -Belinda tightly, drew close to the -edge of the brook. “How’s that?” and with -a splash a big green and brown frog landed -on the stone at her feet.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now,” he added, swelling out his white -vest with an air of importance, “I am a frog, -of course, but my family name is Rana. -Please don’t forget it.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span> -<img src='images/i_026.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“RUTH, HOLDING BELINDA TIGHTLY, DREW CLOSE TO THE EDGE OF THE BROOK”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>“Family name?” said Ruth, sitting down -on the edge of the stone. “I didn’t know -frogs had family names.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There’s a great deal you don’t know,” -said Mr. Rana, in his decided way.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_027.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘HOW’S THAT?’ AND WITH A SPLASH A BIG GREEN AND BROWN FROG LANDED ON THE STONE AT HER FEET”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“Maybe there is,” agreed Ruth, “but it -isn’t very polite to tell me so.” Then, with -a sudden thought, she added quickly, “Why, -you are really talking.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course, I’m talking. Do you suppose -it’s the first time?”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span> -<img src='images/i_028.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘I AM A FROG, OF COURSE, BUT MY FAMILY NAME IS RANA’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>“He’s dreadfully snappy,” Ruth whispered -to Belinda.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It isn’t my fault that people can’t understand,” -finished Mr. Rana, swallowing very -fast.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I wanted to understand,” declared Ruth -meekly. “I was sure you could tell me such -a lot of interesting things, and that nice fat -toad in the garden too. He is so——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You’d better talk to the fat toad, then,” -said Mr. Rana, looking very cross.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, dear,” sighed Ruth, “I didn’t mean -I’d <i>rather</i> talk to him. I do want you to -tell me things. All about yourself, please.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now you are showing your good sense,” -said Mr. Rana, as Ruth settled herself with -a ready-to-listen air. “Nothing can be more -interesting than my story; but excuse me one -second. I see Mrs. Mosquito. This morning -I ate her husband, and now——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His sentence was not finished, but Mrs. -Mosquito was; and Mr. Rana folded his -hands across his fat stomach and looked at -Ruth, while a big smile played about his -broad mouth.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span> -<img src='images/i_030.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“THAT NICE FAT TOAD IN THE GARDEN”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>“She’s gone,” said Ruth, in a slightly awed -tone, “and I know you’ve swallowed her, -but I wish you would tell me how you did it. -I didn’t see you move.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_031.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘<span class='sc'>i didn’t move, but my tongue DID</span>’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“I didn’t move, but my tongue <i>did</i>, and -it went so quick you couldn’t see it. When -you eat, you bring things to your tongue, -but when I eat, I send my tongue to my -dinner. It’s a simpler way, I think. My -tongue is rather wonderful too. It is fastened -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>to my mouth in front, and rolled back; -besides, it has a sort of glue on the end that -catches whatever there is to catch. The -number of pests I eat in a day would astonish -you. Slugs, grubs, snails, mosquitoes, and—well, -what’s the matter? You don’t like -such things, I suppose. Tastes differ, you see. -Now, to tell my story. What do you think -I looked like when I was first hatched?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A tadpole, of course,” answered Ruth. -“I’ve seen lots of tadpoles. They are funny, -wiggly things.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They <i>are</i> lively fellows,” agreed Mr. -Rana, swallowing several times, while Ruth -silently watched the sides of his neck puff out.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Please tell me why you swallow so much,” -she asked at last. “You are not eating, are -you?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mr. Rana smiled, and this time the smile -went all around his mouth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I swallow to breathe,” he answered. “I -can’t swallow air while my mouth is open, -and so I stop talking and shut it. Every -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>time I swallow, the air sac on the side of my -neck fills out. That’s why my voice has such -a lovely croak. My poor wife hasn’t any air -sac, so her voice is never croaky.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But in the water——” began Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“In the water,” answered Mr. Rana, “I -take in air through my skin. It is very -porous. My skin I mean. It is really a -pleasure to tell you things. Now to get -back to the beginning, being a tadpole, or, -I should say, an egg. Looking at me now, -could you imagine that I was once a tiny egg? -It’s a fact, though. My mother laid her eggs -near some water rushes, and, as I said, these -eggs were but tiny specks, black specks -enclosed in a gluey case, which the water -made swell, until it looked like a mass of -jelly. I came from one of those specks, and -I tell you I was a lively fellow when I was -first hatched. Some people say tadpoles -are all head and tail, but there were other -parts to me—places for legs, and I know I -had two eyes and a mouth. Of course I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>made the most of life. A whole pond to -circle in seemed a mighty big world to me, and -I was soon swimming about with a lot of -other tads, slapping tails, and having all -kinds of fun. Indeed, we were always lively, -especially when we were trying to get away -from those who wanted us for dinner. There -were lots of them too.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ugh!” said Ruth, screwing up her face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>This displeased Mr. Rana.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A tadpole is very delicate eating,” he -said. “You have never tasted one, so you -cannot judge; but let that pass. <i>I</i> was not -eaten, as you can see for yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am glad you were not,” said Ruth as Mr. -Rana stopped to swallow some air, “because -then I shouldn’t have known you.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span> -<img src='images/i_035.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘I WAS SOON SWIMMING ABOUT WITH A LOT OF OTHER TADS, SLAPPING TAILS, AND HAVING ALL KINDS OF FUN’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>“Well, that’s a fact. Now let me see what -comes next. Oh, yes—my legs. Legs, you -must know, are very important affairs to a -tadpole, because when he gets them he isn’t -a tadpole any more; so you may be sure -I was happy when I saw mine beginning to -grow. At the same time, my tail became -shorter and shorter, until at last I had none -at all. I was really and truly a frog. After -this I was not obliged to stay in the water all -the time. I had lungs and could breathe air.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_036.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“A LOUD SPLASH AND MR. RANA’S LONG LEGS DISAPPEARED IN THE BROOK”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“But you do go in sometimes,” said Ruth. -“I’ve seen you.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course I do,” agreed Mr. Rana. “I -must keep my skin wet, and that reminds me -it’s pretty dry now, so I will have to leave -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>you. Good-by for the present.” -And before Ruth could -say a word there was a loud -splash and Mr. Rana’s long -legs disappeared in the brook.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_037.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘I’M RIGHT OVER HERE IN THE SHADE’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, dear, he’s gone!” -sighed Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, and good riddance,” -croaked a voice that -was not Mr. Rana’s.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth looked around -quickly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It’s nice having things -talk to you,” she said, -“but it keeps you jumping.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Use your eyes, and -you wouldn’t -have to jump,” -went on the same -voice. “I’m -right over here -in the shade. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>My blood’s cold, and I can’t stand the hot -sun.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was her friend the garden toad. Ruth -could see him plainly now. He looked more -puffy than ever, as he sat under the bushes, -swelling his leathery throat with importance. -“If my cousin can talk to you I guess I can -too,” he added. “I’m Mr. Bufo, and I’m -quite as interesting as he is.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth was only too willing to agree to this, -though, as she whispered to Belinda, she -thought frogs and toads had very good -opinions of themselves.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I have a wife,” croaked Mr. Bufo when -Ruth had sat herself on the ground close to -him, “a worrying wife. Do you know it’s -a bad thing to have a worrying wife?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth didn’t know, but she nodded her head -in agreement.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A bad thing,” repeated Mr. Bufo. “In -the Spring, after Mrs. Bufo had laid her eggs, -she gave me no peace. Of course, like all -toads, she laid them in the water, but, instead -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>of being reasonable about it, she was -always asking me how she was to know -them from the eggs Mrs. Rana and Mrs. -Urodillo had laid. Theirs were in the water -too.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Please, who is Mrs. Urodillo?” asked -Ruth. “I know Mrs. Rana is a frog.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Urodillo is a water salamander,” -answered Mr. Bufo, not over pleased at -being interrupted. “Now where was I? Oh, -yes. Mrs. Bufo was afraid she wouldn’t -know her own eggs. Well, I tried to argue -with her.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Didn’t you lay yours in double strings?’ -I asked, ‘and didn’t you with motherly care -enclose them in thin but strong tubes?’ Of -course she couldn’t deny it. ‘But I won’t -know my own tadpoles,’ she kept insisting.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No wonder she was worried,” said Ruth. -“Any one would want to know their own -babies.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mothers in our family never do,” declared -Mr. Bufo. “They lay their eggs, and that’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>the end of it. Mrs. Bufo knew that as well -as I did. She only wanted something to -worry about. All tadpoles are pretty much -alike to begin with, but they don’t end -alike. Toad egg tads always grow into -toads; frog egg tads become frogs, and salamander -egg tads will be salamanders and -nothing else.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>All the while he talked Mr. Bufo had -stopped every little while to swallow, not -only air, but whatever in the way of insects -came within his reach. So of course Ruth -saw his tongue.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Your tongue is just like Mr. Rana’s,” -she said, after watching it for a few seconds.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Our tongues may be alike,” agreed Mr. -Bufo, “but there’s a vast difference in our -legs. His are too long for any use, and his -skin is so horribly smooth it gives me the -shivers just to look at it. Of course I know -I am not handsome, and that reminds me of -some lines that have been written about me. -Want to hear them?”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>Then without waiting for an answer he -swallowed some air and began:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c013'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“I’m a clumsy, awkward toad,</div> - <div class='line'>And I hop along the road;</div> - <div class='line'>’Tis the only way we toads can well meander;</div> - <div class='line'>While in yonder marshy bog</div> - <div class='line'>Leaps my relative the frog,</div> - <div class='line'>Very near my aunt, the water Salamander.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“And if you should ever stray</div> - <div class='line'>Near a slimy pool some day,</div> - <div class='line'>And along its grassy margin chance to loiter.</div> - <div class='line'>Do not pass it idly by,</div> - <div class='line'>For it is the spot where I</div> - <div class='line'>Was born a lively tadpole in the water.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“I’m a homely, harmless thing;</div> - <div class='line'>I catch insects on the wing,</div> - <div class='line'>And in this I serve you all; it is my duty.</div> - <div class='line'>And now tell me which is best,</div> - <div class='line'>To be useless and well dressed,</div> - <div class='line'>Or useful, even though I am no beauty?”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>Mr. Bufo had scarcely finished, when his -mate hopped out from some nearby bushes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’d be ashamed,” she said, in a very puffy -voice, “to sit there repeating that lovely -poetry, with such shabby clothes as yours -are. How many more times must I tell -you to change them?”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>“It doesn’t matter about his clothes,” -said Ruth. “I think it is so lovely to hear -him talk.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You haven’t heard him as often as I -have,” puffed Mrs. Bufo, hopping almost -into Ruth’s lap. “Besides, his clothes are -a disgrace. They are not only faded and -dull, but they are actually beginning to -split up the back.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Are they?” croaked Mr. Bufo meekly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then he drew a film over his eyes and -pretended to be asleep.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now look here,” said Mrs. Bufo, “you -can’t deceive me. That is only your third -eyelid. You are not asleep. Now do get -off those old clothes.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, if I must, I must,” croaked Mr. -Bufo, hopping away.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There, I’ve made him do it at last,” puffed -Mrs. Bufo, swallowing a passing fly. “It’s -a hard job, and I don’t blame him for getting -out of it as long as possible. He has to -twist and turn, and use first one leg and then -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>another, until he is quite free from his old -suit, and then, tired as he is, he must eat it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Eat it?” repeated Ruth, screwing up her -face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, eat it, and not a tooth to chew with -either. I can’t see why we haven’t teeth -like those horrid frogs, though, to tell the -truth, theirs are no good for chewing. They -only have them in their upper jaws, and they -point backward, too, like fish teeth. I can’t -see that they help much in chewing, but they -do help to hold what the frog wishes to -swallow, and, after all, we toads and frogs -are swallowers rather than chewers.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>As she spoke, several flies went to prove -her words.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes,” she added with a big puff, which -Ruth took for a sigh, “we have our troubles -and worries from early Spring, when we leave -our holes, where we sleep all Winter, to the -time when frost drives us into our holes -again, and no one seems to think about the -work we do. The garden couldn’t have a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>better friend, for the bugs and harmful -insects we eat can’t be counted. Well, -there’s no use talking this way. I must go -to Mr. Bufo. He’ll need some cheering up, -I’m sure. One good thing, he won’t have -to make his new suit. He’ll find it all ready -under his old one.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, she does think of him, anyhow,” -thought Ruth as Mrs. Bufo hopped away. -“I hope she will talk to me again some day.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_044.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_045.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER III<br /> <span class='large'>RUTH AND THE WONDERFUL SPINNERS</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>She throws a web upon the air and soon</div> - <div class='line in2'>’Tis caught and lifted by the willing breezes,</div> - <div class='line'>Then, freed from trouble in her light balloon,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Our spinner travels wheresoe’re she pleases.</div> - <div class='line in30'>—<i>Edith M. Thomas.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>Ruth was in the garden counting -colours among the hollyhocks when -a little breeze hurried by.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come,” it said, kissing her cheek, “and -hurry; things are going to happen.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is my dear Wind,” cried Ruth, her -eyes growing big with expectation, and, -stopping just long enough to snatch up -Belinda, who of course would wish to go, too, -she followed where the little breeze led.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>This was to a lovely spot on the edge of -the wood, and one of the first things she saw -was a big round spider’s web on the branches -of a tall bush.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh,” she said, going up closer, “who -would ever think a spider could make anything -like that?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indeed,” said a voice which made her -give a little jump, “who else but a spider -could spin a web, I’d like to know? You -haven’t any brains, I’m thinking.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, please excuse me,” said Ruth. “I -didn’t know you were there.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That’s because you don’t use your eyes -properly,” was the answer of the large, -handsome black and gold spider hanging -head down from the centre of the big -web.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her eight long, slender legs were outstretched -and rested by their tips on the -bases of the taut radii, and her eight eyes -were staring at Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I saw you as soon as you came,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>“I suppose you will stay to the meeting. -I’m to be chair-spider.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Chair-spider?” repeated Ruth, slightly -confused by those eight bright eyes. “And -please, what meeting?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, our meeting, of course. Mrs. Cobweb -Weaver says men always have a chairman -at their meetings, so why shouldn’t -spiders have a chair-spider, I’d like to know?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I suppose they should,” agreed Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course we should. Considering you -are a human creature, with only two eyes, -two legs, and no spinnerets, you really show -a great deal of sense. Now sit down on the -crotch of that little tree, then you will be -near me and can hear all I say. What’s -that thing you are carrying?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, it’s Belinda, my doll,” explained -Ruth. “I tell her everything. I think she -will like your—your—meeting.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, I don’t care whether she does or -not,” said Madame Spider. “Now our friends -are arriving, and as you can see, with even two -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>eyes, they are all shapes and sizes. Long -legged, short legged, plump, thin, grave and -gay. All colours too—quite enough to satisfy -any taste, I should say.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth looked about her in wide-eyed astonishment.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I never knew there were so many kinds -of spiders,” she said at last, “or that they -had such lovely colours. I thought spiders -were mostly grayish or brownish.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That is because you haven’t used your -eyes, as I said before; but you are only like -others of your kind. Such ignorance! Because -some spiders are dull and colourless, most -people imagine that all are so. I suppose -they think, if they stop to think at all, -that all kinds of webs are spun by the same -kind of spider, and that all spiders spin -webs.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Don’t they?” asked Ruth, with some -hesitation, for Mrs. Spider’s indignation made -her look quite fierce.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They do <i>not</i>,” was the decided answer. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>“All spiders are spinners, but not all are -web makers.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth looked puzzled.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You see,” explained Mrs. Spider, “it -all depends upon the way they catch their -prey. Spider habits are as different as their -looks. Some like the sun, others prefer the -shade. Some live in the forest, and others -with the house people. Many make their -home in the bark of trees, and under stones.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’ve seen that kind,” interrupted Ruth, -eagerly, “and when you lift up the stone -they run awfully fast. Sometimes they have -a funny little gray bundle, just as the ants -carry their babies. Maybe it’s their babies -too. Is it?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, they will be babies if nothing -happens. Those gray bundles are cocoons -full of eggs. The mother spins the cocoon of -silk from her own body.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, now, I understand. They are spinners, -but they don’t have any web. Isn’t -that it?”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>“Exactly. They do not need a web. They -spring on their prey when the prey isn’t -looking. We call them hunters, also runners.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, they <i>can</i> run,” said Ruth.</p> - -<div class='figleft id005'> -<img src='images/i_050.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘THE MOTHER SPINS THE COCOON OF SILK FROM HER OWN BODY’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“The flower spiders are -not web spinners either,” -went on Madame Spider, -who seemed to like nothing -better than to talk. “They -live among flowers, and eat -the visiting insects. You -can see some of them over -there. Talk about colours! -They are gay enough, just -like flowers themselves. -Perhaps you can guess -why.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth thought a few -minutes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well,” she said, “if they were the same -colour as the flower they couldn’t be seen so -easily. I saw something walk out of an ear -of corn once, and it looked like a kernel of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>corn on eight legs. It was awful funny. -Was that a spider?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Very likely. We are wonderful enough -for anything. I suppose you have never -heard of the trapdoor spider and his silk-lined -burrow, with its little hinged door, -nor of the spider who lives under the water, -in a tiny silken house, which she spins herself, -and fills with air carried down, bubble by -bubble, from the surface. Don’t look as -though you didn’t believe me. It isn’t -polite. I am telling you the truth. Very -likely you’ll doubt me when I say that we -sail in balloons, of our own making, and cross -streams of water on bridges, which we can -fashion as we need them—that is, we -orb weavers do, for, after all, we stand at -the head of the spider clan. Did you know -I was an orb weaver?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I—I—haven’t thought about it,” said -Ruth, slowly, for the question had come -very suddenly, “but I’d like you to go on -telling me things. Do you always hang with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>your head down? I should think it would -make you dizzy.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dizzy? Whoever heard of such a thing? -Of course I keep my head down, and my toes -on my telegraph lines. Then I can feel the -least tremble in any one of them, and I’m -pretty quick to run where I know my dinner -is waiting. Sometimes I don’t hurry quite -so fast. That is when the line trembles in -a way which lets me know that something -big has been caught. Indeed, there are times -when I bite the threads around what might -have been my dinner, and let it go; for it is -wiser to lose a meal than run the chance of -being a meal.” And Mrs. Orb Weaver -winked, not with one eye only, but with all -eight. “Now it is time to talk to the company,” -she added, “as I am chair-spider.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She said the last words in a loud voice, -intended for all to hear; then she looked -around to see if any one objected.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They had better not,” she said to Ruth, -and in a louder voice, added: “My friends, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>we are not appreciated. Men talk about -the wonderful bees, the wonderful wasps, -the wonderful ants, but few of them say -anything about the wonderful spiders. Now -we are wonderful, too, and we are honest, -and we are industrious. We eat flies and lots -of other pests, and we do not hurt orchards, -or steal into pantries, or chew up clothes. -Indeed, we do man no harm at all. But -is he grateful? Tell me that. I’ll tell you -he isn’t. Ask Mrs. Cobweb Weaver if there -isn’t always some broom sweeping down the -nice web she makes. I wonder she doesn’t -hate a broom. No, my friends, man is not -grateful. Even those who call themselves -our friends are ready to pop us into bottles, -or boxes, whenever they get a chance. They -give us what they call a painless death in -the cause of science. Now we would rather -live in our own cause. At least I would.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mrs. Orb Weaver had become so excited -that her whole web was shaking violently.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth was excited, too.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>“It’s rather horrid to do that way,” she -said, “but maybe people don’t know about -you. I didn’t until to-day. The wonderful -things I mean, and I want to know lots more. -How your web is made and—and—everything. -Please tell me.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, certainly,” answered Mrs. Orb -Weaver readily. “To begin with, my web -is made of silk.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Who didn’t know that?” snapped a running -spider.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I didn’t,” answered Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You! And who are you, pray?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Be quiet,” commanded Mrs. Orb Weaver. -“She is my guest, and anything she wishes -to know I shall be happy to tell her. Now, -to get on, our webs are made of silk, and the -silk comes from our own bodies, through -little tubes called spinnerets. It is soft at -first, but gets harder when it reaches the -air, just like caterpillar silk. We guide each -thread with our hind feet, making heavier -strands by twisting a number of fine ones together. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>Of course, we spin the foundation -lines first. They are the ones which fix the -web to the bush. Then the ray lines, those -like the spokes in a wheel. They are all -heavy strands, and only after they are -finished do we spin the real snare, the lines -which run around. They are very fine, and -are covered with a sort of glue, for they have -to catch and hold the flies and other insects -that come on the web. We orb weavers -are the only ones who have this glue. -No other spiders use it. They trust to -the meshes of the web to entangle their -prey.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But why don’t the sticky parts catch -you too?” asked Ruth, who had been listening -with eager attention. “I’ve seen you -run all over your web and——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We never get caught. Of course not,” -finished Mrs. Orb Weaver. “And why? -That’s a question. The wise men don’t -know, and if we do, we are not telling. Now -I am getting hungry, so I think I will tell a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>little story, then we will adjourn. I am sorry there -isn’t time for Mrs. Funnel Weaver to speak.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But there is,” declared a large brown -spider, whose body looked as though it were -set on a framework of legs. “I mean to speak -too—if only to point out all those webs -in the grass.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, I’ve often seen webs like that,” -said Ruth. “They are lovely with dew on -them. But why do you call yourself a funnel -weaver?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I don’t!” she snapped. “The men, who -think they know everything, gave me that -name, because at one side of my web is a -funnel-shaped tube. It is our way to escape -our enemies. We run through it into the -grass when something too big for us to -manage gets into our web.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I generally make my web in houses,” -said a small, slender-legged, light-coloured -spider.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She spoke in a hurry, as though she was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>afraid some one might stop her before she -finished. “I have cousins who like fields -and fences and outbuildings, but our webs -are all the same pattern. Not so regular -as yours, Mrs. Orb Weaver, but very fine -and delicate.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, everybody knows you, Mrs. Cobweb -Weaver,” said a voice from a nearby twig. -“Now if you are speaking of legs——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We are not,” answered Mrs. Orb Weaver, -“and I should like to know how you came -here.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“On my legs of course. Don’t you think -they are long enough? And though I can -neither spin nor weave, I am your relation, -and I have as much right to be here as you -have. I——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, it’s Daddy Long Legs,” interrupted -Ruth, with a friendly smile of recognition. -“I like daddies.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, I am not saying anything about my -legs,” remarked a fat little spider, as Daddy -tried to bow to Ruth, “though I have eight -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>of them. I usually travel in a balloon, which -I make myself. Oh, I tell you, it is fine to go</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c013'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Sailing mid the golden air</div> - <div class='line'>In skiffs of yielding gossamer.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_058.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘WHY, IT’S DADDY LONG LEGS’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“Poetry,” said a handsome spider, wheeling -back and forth on a silken bridge swung between -two bushes. “I could have learned -some too, but I didn’t know it was allowed. -Of course I can build bridges. Who is asking -that idiotic question? You?” And eight -glaring eyes were fixed upon Ruth. “Maybe -you don’t know that spiders were the first -bridge builders and when men suspend their -great bridges to-day they follow our ideas -and ways, without giving us the least credit; -but that’s the way with men.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>“Well, we can’t expect to regulate men,” -answered Mrs. Orb Weaver, “and, besides, -it’s time to tell my story, and then you -will know why we get our name, and why we -are such wonderful spinners. Now listen, all -of you:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Once upon a time——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth chuckled contentedly. All nice stories -began, “Once upon a time.” “Please go on,” -she whispered eagerly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then don’t interrupt me,” said Mrs. -Orb Weaver, and she began again:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Once upon a time, ever so long ago, there -lived in a beautiful land called Greece a -maiden named Arachne. Arachne was not -only fair to look upon, but she could also -spin and weave in a fashion so wondrously -fine that all who saw her work said that the -great Athena herself must have been her -teacher. Now this surely was praise enough, -but Arachne was vain. ‘Nay,’ she said, ‘no -one has taught me, and gladly will I weave -with the great goddess herself, and thus prove -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>the skill to be all my own.’ Her words only -shocked all who heard them, but Arachne -cared not, and again repeated her wish -to try her skill with Athena.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So it happened that as she sat spinning -one day an old woman, leaning on a staff, -stopped by her loom.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Child,’ she said in a gentle voice, ‘a -great gift is yours.’</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Arachne tossed her head, and answered -scornfully:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Well do I know it, yet Athena dares not -try her skill with mine.’</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Dares not?’ repeated the old dame, in -tones that should have made Arachne tremble. -‘Dares not, say you? Foolish maiden, be -warned in time.’</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But Arachne was too proud to yield, and -she still persisted, even though the old dame -had dropped her mantle, and stood revealed -as the great goddess herself.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Be it so,’ said Athena, sternly, and both -began to weave.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>“For hours their shuttles flew in and out. -Arachne’s work was wonderful, but for her -theme she had chosen the weakness and the -failure of the gods. Athena pictured forth -their greatness. The sky was her loom, and -from the rainbow she chose her colours, and -when her work was finished and its splendours -spanned the heavens, Arachne realized that -she had failed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ashamed and miserable, she sought to -hang herself in the meshes of her web.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Nay, rash maid,’ spoke Athena; ‘thou -shalt not die, but live to be the mother of a -great race, the most wonderful spinners on -earth.’</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Even as Athena spoke, Arachne grew -smaller and smaller, until not a maiden, but -a spider, hung from that marvellous web.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And now, my friends,” finished Mrs. -Orb Weaver, “need I tell you that we are -the wonderful race of which Athena spoke, -and need <i>I</i> add that we have inherited -Arachne’s marvellous skill, and are truly the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>most wonderful spinners on earth? Now -I am hungry and the meeting is adjourned.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So am I,” added Daddy Long Legs, -“not adjourned, but hungry, and, by the -way, do you imagine any one believes that -old story?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He winked at Ruth, and then moved away -as fast as his long legs would carry him.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_062.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span></div> -<div class='chap'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_063.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IV<br /> <span class='large'>MRS. MOSQUITO AND HER KIN</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Thou art welcome to the town, but why come here</div> - <div class='line'>To bleed a fellow poet gaunt like thee?</div> - <div class='line'>Alas! the little blood I have is dear,</div> - <div class='line'>And thin will be the banquet drawn from me.”</div> - <div class='line in44'>—<i>Bryant.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>“That horrid mosquito,” said Ruth, -waking with a start, and slapping -her cheek.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Aha! you didn’t get me that time,” -answered a thin, high-pitched voice!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth sat up. She had been asleep under -the apple tree, but she was quite awake now.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Where are you?” she asked, “and are you -really talking?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I seem to be,” answered the mosquito, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>“though you tried to finish me just now. -I bear no ill-will, though. I am quite used -to being an outlaw. What is more, I don’t -intend to be any better. I shall go on biting -people as much as I please. I must have my -meals as well as the rest of the world. People -seem to forget that fact.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But just biting people——” began Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It isn’t just biting,” put in the mosquito. -“It really isn’t biting at all. I have a sharp -little instrument to pierce the skin of the -fellow I choose for my dinner, and the best -kind of sucking pump to pump up his blood. -That’s the way I get my meals. It is different -with my mate. He is a harmless sort of -fellow. He can’t even sing, and he likes such -baby food as the nectar of flowers. Now -tell me why I am different from other insect -musicians.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She fixed her big eyes on Ruth, who moved -uneasily, and answered with not a little hesitation:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I—I—really don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>“I’m a female. That’s why. In all the -orders, so far as I know, the singers are males. -Naturally I am proud of being an exception. -Well, you didn’t know that. Do you know -why I don’t care for science?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is just like an examination,” thought -Ruth, and again she answered.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course you don’t,” said Mrs. Mosquito. -“Is there anything you <i>do</i> know? Well, -I suppose I must tell you. I don’t care for -science, because it interferes too much. Once -upon a time men were our friends. We -not only had nice juicy meals from them, but -we had their rain barrels as nurseries for our -children. Of course, what they said about -us, when we came too near them, was not -always complimentary, but a mosquito, attending -strictly to business, doesn’t mind a -little thing like that. But now come these -fellows who know so much, or think they -know so much. We carry malaria, they say, -whatever that is, and the rain barrel must -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>go, because it helps to breed mosquitoes. -Not only that, these interfering fellows seem -to spend their time thinking up ways to finish -us. Well, I sting them every chance I get.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But alas! the rain barrel is going. I was -hatched in one of the few to be found in -these sad days. I was a lively baby, I can -tell you. Young mosquitoes are called wrigglers -and, true to my name, I wriggled for all -I was worth. Now, when you know that my -mother had laid something like three hundred -eggs, and all had hatched into wrigglers as -lively as myself, you can imagine the time -there was in that old rain barrel.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But why,” asked Ruth “are you called -wrigglers when you are young, and mosquitoes -when you are grown up?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why are you called baby when you are -born, girl when you are half grown, and -woman when you are quite grown?” replied -Mrs. Mosquito, and Ruth said no more.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now,” went on Mrs. Mosquito, “I should -like to tell you more about wrigglers, how -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>they stand on their heads and breathe with -their tails, and how they shed their skins when -they become full-grown mosquitoes, but I -haven’t time. The others are coming.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Others?” repeated Ruth. “What others?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The members of the Diptera order of -course,” answered Mrs. Mosquito, with an -important air. “You see, I found you -sleeping under the tree and I knew you -wanted to learn about the things that are -worth while, and as we are very worth while, -I sent a friend to tell all the members of our -order to meet in this spot.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Exactly what that young mosquito told -me,” said Mrs. Hessian Fly, buzzing up -excitedly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She was a dusky-winged creature, scarcely -more than an eighth of an inch long.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What is the Diptera anyhow?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, you are one,” explained Mrs. Mosquito, -with a superior smile. “It is quite a tax -to know things for everybody,” she said to -Ruth, “but you see I am around men so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>much I learn a great deal. I once attended -a meeting of the men who think themselves -wise. I wasn’t invited, you understand, but -I went, and I attracted much attention too. -Well, this is what I heard: The audience -will please listen, it concerns you all:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘The members of the order Diptera have -two gauzy wings and two thread-like organs -with knobs at the end in the place where -most other insects have a second pair of -wings. Their mouth is framed for sucking, -and sometimes for piercing. Only a few -make cocoons. Their larvæ are called maggots, -and they have no legs. Some are vegetable -eaters, some carnivorous, and many are -scavengers.’ They said all that about us, -and maybe it’s true, but I tell you every man -in that meeting felt my sting.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I don’t care what they say,” remarked -Mrs. Hessian Fly. “To be talked about -shows our importance, though I have never -doubted mine. My family is a Revolutionary -one, as my ancestors came over with the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>Hessians. Of course you have heard of -them?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, I am only interested in the people -who live now,” answered Mrs. Mosquito.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, I live now,” said Mrs. Hessian -Fly, “and I am interesting enough for any -use. I don’t make galls like so many flies, but -simply lay my eggs in young blades of wheat, -and when my little red babies hatch, they -have only to crawl down and fasten themselves -to the tender stalk, just below the -ground. Don’t they love the sap, though? -A field of wheat looks pretty sick after they -have worked on it a while. Sometimes the -wheat midges help them and then it is good-by -to the wheat. Mrs. Wheat Midge, you -know, lays her eggs in the opening flower -of the grain, and her babies eat the pollen -and ovule. You may guess what happens -then.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I think it is real horrid to do that,” said -Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And what do you know about it, pray?” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>retorted Mrs. Hessian Fly. “We must all -eat to live.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We certainly must,” said a house fly, -flitting up with a loud buzz. “I have just -escaped with my life. A cook wanted to -take it because I tried to lay some eggs on -her meat. What better place could a fly -ask, I’d like to know? If Mrs. Blow Fly had -been there, she would have put her eggs on -that meat, screen or no screen. She is a most -determined body and she can drop her eggs -through the finest mesh, if she makes up her -mind to do it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Is Mrs. Blow Fly that big, buzzing, blue-bodied -thing that is such a botheration?” -asked Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She’s big and blue, and she buzzes, or -talks, with her wings, as we all do,” answered -Mrs. House Fly, with dignity, “but she isn’t -a thing. She’s a fly. There are hundreds -of different kinds of flies, I’d like you to -understand. The kind like me live in houses, -but some prefer stables. They seem to like -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>to stay with horses and cows, and are rather -common. They have beautiful eyes, though, -and plenty of them. Would you believe it, -my head is nearly all eyes? I have thousands -of tiny ones in my two big ones, not to -mention the three single ones at the top of -my head.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Gracious!” said Ruth. “No wonder it -is so hard to catch you. But doesn’t it make -you dizzy when you walk upside down, -and how do you keep from falling?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course we don’t get dizzy and it is -easy enough to keep from falling if you have -pads and fine hairs on your feet. They -just hold you to the place you are standing -on. Men seem to consider this quite a wonderful -thing. One of them has written some -poetry about it. This is how it goes:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c013'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“What a wonderful fellow is Mr. Fly,</div> - <div class='line'>He goes where he pleases, low or high,</div> - <div class='line'>And can walk just as well with his feet to the sky</div> - <div class='line'>As I can on the floor.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“Say,” spoke up a slim, narrow-winged -creature with abnormally long legs, “I’m -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>one of your relations, though I can’t walk -upside down.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You?” repeated Mrs. House Fly, contemptuously. -“Why, you can’t walk decently -right side up.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is true,” sighed the crane fly. “I -haven’t even the grace of Daddy Long Legs, -for:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c013'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“My six long legs all here and there</div> - <div class='line'>Oppress my bosom with despair.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, I don’t care about your legs,” -said Mrs. House Fly. “I was speaking of -my relations—my <i>smart</i> relations. All are -not smart. I have some who need only bite -the twig of a tree and lay their eggs there, -and what do you suppose happens? A -round ball grows over the spot and men call -it a gall, but it is really a tiny house for my -cousin’s babies. I have another cousin, -whose name is Cecidomyia strobiloides. It -is long for such a tiny creature, but she bears -up very well under it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I couldn’t ever pronounce it,” said Ruth. -“What does she do, please?”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>“She flies to a willow tree in the Spring, -before the leaves are out, and with a spear -on the end of her body she cuts a gash in the -tip end of the bud, just where it is most -tender and juicy. She lays an egg in the -gash; then goes to another twig, and does -the same thing, until she has laid as many -eggs as she wishes. When her babies hatch, -they do not look at all like their gauzy-winged -little gray mother, nor do they care for sun -or air. In fact, they never stir from their -cells. They can eat, though, and the sap -of the tree is their food.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You all seem to think a good deal of -eating,” said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course. Isn’t that what we are -hatched for? But my cousin’s babies have -lost their appetites by the Fall, and then they -go to sleep. They wake up in the Spring, -and, strange to say, they have grown exactly -like their mother and are ready to lay eggs -on some more willow twigs. Very likely the -willow tree does not care to have them do it, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>for the twig where their cradle is does not -grow into a branch as the tree meant it should. -Instead, the small leaves just crowd upon -each other, until they look like a green pine -cone.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I hope it will never happen to my willow -tree,” said Ruth; “but please tell me more -things. They are very interesting.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Interesting? I should say so. Indeed, -I could go on talking all day, and not tell -you one half the things we can do. But life -is too uncertain to waste it all in talking.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Life is certainly full of accidents,” buzzed -a big horse fly. “I’m here to tell Mrs. -Mosquito, if she is looking for the messenger -she sent out a while ago, she’d better make -up her mind never to see her again. She went -too near a horrid warty toad, and you can -guess the rest.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We can,” sighed Mrs. Mosquito. “If -it isn’t frogs, it’s toads and——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Often it’s birds,” finished Mrs. Horse -Fly, “and they are the worst of all.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>“Such subjects remind me that I am -hungry,” said Mrs. Mosquito, “and I’m off -to find a juicy somebody for dinner. I think -I shall lay some eggs too.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I wonder if it was my toad who ate that -mosquito,” thought Ruth, as she watched the -audience fly away.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_075.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_076.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER V<br /> <span class='large'>RUTH HEARS ABOUT SOME WATER BABIES</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>An inner impulse rent the veil</div> - <div class='line'>Of his old husk, from head to tail</div> - <div class='line'>Came out clear plates of sapphire mail.</div> - <div class='line in38'>—<i>Tennyson.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>Ruth lay in the grass, under the old -willow tree, watching a dainty little -creature with a pale green body and -four gauzy wings flashing with all the tints -of the rainbow.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What a beautiful dragon fly,” she said, -half under her breath. “I never saw one so -lovely before. I wonder if it is a dragon -fly. Do you think it is, Belinda?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am not a dragon fly,” came in answer -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>from the dainty creature herself. “I’m a lacewing. -Why don’t you use your eyes? It’s -about time you learned something.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I do want to learn,” said Ruth meekly. -“I am trying all the time. I wish you would -tell me things. I thought you were prettier -than most dragon flies.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mrs. Lacewing looked pleased. “Now you -show your taste,” she said, “and I am quite -willing to help you. Just wait a little while, -and see what happens. Then if you don’t -like it, well——” And without waiting to say -more, or to let Ruth thank her, she was off.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I think she means to come back,” said -Ruth, expecting, she scarcely knew what, -“and it will be nice, I am sure. Oh, Belinda, -isn’t it just like living in Fairyland, since -we can hear what they talk about? There! -what did I tell you! It is Fairyland.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth added this with a rapturous little -squeeze, for just then she saw the lacewing -flying toward her, and with her many other -beautiful winged creatures.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>“The order Neuroptera, or the nerve wings,” -said the lacewing, flitting close to Ruth, “that -is some of them.” Then she introduced Ruth -as a friend, adding in a self-satisfied tone: -“She thinks I’m beautiful, and I quite agree -with her, don’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Apparently the audience did. Of course -she <i>was</i> beautiful, and, besides, she carried -a scent bag which was not at all pleasant, -and they knew they were likely to have the -full benefit of it if they contradicted or -displeased her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now we’ll begin,” she went on, with -the air of one who had settled all difficulties, -but the next second she stopped, and, looking -at a group of caddice flies, she asked sternly:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why are you here? and bless my wings, -if there aren’t dragon flies, and stone flies, -and, who would believe it, May flies. Now -you know that not one of you belongs to our -order.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, we belonged to it once,” answered -a caddice fly, speaking for all.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>“But I don’t understand,” began Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then don’t say anything,” put in a dragon -fly, darting before her. “Keep quiet and -listen, and you’ll learn things. Besides, it -is very rude to interrupt people.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth felt snubbed, and tried to turn her -back on the dragon fly, but, as he seemed to -be everywhere at once, she found it impossible.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The caddice fly was still speaking. “We -can’t always remember,” she said, “and -I should like to know what right the wise -men have to take us out of one order and -put us in a sub-order.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Right is the last thing they think about,” -spoke up a stone fly, “but I really care very -little whether I’m called Neuroptera, as I -was once, or Plecoptera, as I am now. Life -is just as uncertain and full of accidents. -Why, my friends, it is the greatest wonder I -lived to grow up.” She sighed and began -to fan her long, fat body with her broad -fore wings.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You know I was once a water baby.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>“Water baby?” repeated Ruth. “Wouldn’t -your wings——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No they wouldn’t,” said Mrs. Stone Fly, -“because I hadn’t any wings then. I was -homely, flat, six-legged, and just the colour -of the stone under which I spent most of my -young life, hiding. I had to hide, or the -boys would have found me and used me for -bait. Think of it! Bait!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And Mrs. Stone Fly, quite overcome, could -say no more.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We came to make a few remarks,” said -one of a swarm of May flies that had been -hovering about, “but we must go now. Life -is too short for talking.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Poor things,” said Mrs. Lacewing, “life -with them is indeed short. No wonder they -are called Ephemerida. Think of living only -for a day!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But they lived a long time as Nymphs,” -said the dragon fly, who was still darting -about, now here, now there, like a flash of -living flame. “I know, because they were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>water babies like me. They could eat too, -then, and the number of times they changed -their skins was a caution. Why, my friends, -they even change them after they leave the -water and have their wings. No other insect -does that.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now, my story, in the beginning, is -something like theirs. I, too, was born in -the bottom of the pond and, no doubt, I -played with some of you, or I may have -tried to make a meal of you. Well, if I did -I failed, and I shouldn’t be blamed for the -sins of my youth. All of us eat when we -can get the chance, and there’s no use in -being sorry for the dinner. I suppose you -would like to hear how I managed to get -into the pond?” He looked at Ruth, who -nodded her head, though she was still laughing -at the idea of being sorry for a dinner.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You see,” explained Mrs. Lacewing, “the -dinner might be your nearest relation.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Just so,” agreed the dragon fly. “Now -my mother, for of course I had a mother, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>though like most pond people I never knew -her——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do get to the point,” said an ant lion -impatiently; “we are all growing old.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, the point is my mother,” answered -the dragon fly, undisturbed, “but first I -should say that I no longer belong to the -order Neuroptera, but to the sub-order -Ordonata. It means something about a -tooth, but if I have any teeth, I don’t know it. -Now to get back to the point: my mother -flew down to the water one day, and when -she left it there was a cluster of small yellow -eggs floating on the surface. I came from -one of those eggs, and I didn’t look like a -dragon fly, I can tell you. I had six tiny -spider-like legs, but not a sign of wings, and -when I breathed it was not as I do now, like -all perfect insects, through openings on each -side of my body. I had gills, and a tube -at the end of my body brought fresh water -to them. This tube was a funny affair. -It really helped me along, for when I spurted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>water through it I was pushed forward. -Then I had a wonderful mouth, with a -long under lip, that I could dart out and -catch anything within reach, while I did -not need to move my body at all.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Just like frogs and toads!” cried Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not at all,” answered the dragon fly. -“They only send out their tongues. I send -out my whole under lip. If you could only -keep quiet you would not show your ignorance -so plainly.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Once more Ruth was snubbed, and the -dragon fly continued:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“In time I became a pupa.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth looked the question she dared not ask.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’ll explain,” said the dragon fly, amiably. -“Larva—that’s what I was at first—means -mask, or something that hides you. You -will find out in time, if you do not know -now, that the larva of an insect is really a -mask which hides its true form. The plural -of the word is larvæ. Now pupa, plural -pupæ, means baby. It is usually the state -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>of sleep in which the larva lies after spinning -its cocoon or cradle, but in my case it didn’t -suit at all. Dragon flies, far from sleeping -in the pupa state, seem to grow more active, -and their appetites are larger. Indeed, I -will say right here, everything that came my -way, and was not too big, went into my -mouth. In fact, I finally reached my limit -and burst.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Gracious!” cried Ruth in a shocked tone. -“How <i>did</i> you get yourself together again?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, you see, the whole of me didn’t -burst. I simply grew too big for my skin, -or my pupa case, as the wise men call it, and -it cracked right open. I was climbing on a -water plant when this happened, for all at -once I had felt a longing to leave the water -and get to the open air. My first effort -was to get rid of the useless old shell which -still clung to me, but I had quite a tussle before -I could do so, and afterward I was very weak -and tired. But the result was worth all my -labour, for I found myself with these four -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>wings, and the rest of my beautiful body, and -I needed only to dry myself before sailing -away on the wind, the swiftest thing on -wings, and the most renowned mosquito -killer on record. Of course, my legs aren’t -arranged for walking. Why should they be? -All six of them go forward, as if they were -reaching for something, and so they are, -reaching for something to eat. Woe betide -any insect I start after. I catch him every -time. I ought to, for I have thousands of -eyes, and I can fly forward, backward, or -any old way. I never stop to eat my -dinner either. I hold it, and eat it as I go. -Now if I had time, I would tell you how the -children of Japan make a holiday, and go -out to catch us for pets, and how they sing -pretty songs to us and——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is about time you stopped,” interrupted -Mrs. Ant Lion. “You have tried our patience -long enough, and I mean to speak -this very minute. I’ve been told I am -much like the dragon flies,” she added to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>the company, “but my babies are not at all -like theirs. They do not belong to the water, -and I am glad of it. I’m tired of water -babies. I’ve heard so much of them to-day. -My mother had the good sense to lay her -eggs in sand, and I shall do the same. I -was hungry from the minute I was hatched, -and I would have run after something to eat -right away, only I found I couldn’t. My -legs were fixed in such a way I had to walk -backward.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Backward?” echoed Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, backward. So there was nothing -to do but to dig a trap for my dinner, and -I set about it pretty quick. No one showed -me how, either. I simply used my shovel-shaped -head, and before long I had made -quite a pit, broad and rounded at the top, -and sloping to a point like a funnel at the -bottom. You have seen them, of course?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I think I have,” answered Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They are not hard to find if you keep -your eyes open,” went on the ant lion.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>“Well, as I said, I made one of these pits, -and in the funnel end I lay in wait for ants. -Soon one came along, slipped over the edge, -as I expected, and tumbled right into my -open mouth. Nor was she the only one. -Some were strong enough to turn, even while -they were slipping, and start to crawl up -again, but I just heaped some sand on my -head and threw it at them, and down they -would come. My aim was always good, so -were the ants, though I only sucked their -juice. Of course I did not leave their skins -around to frighten away other ants. I -piled them on my head, and gave them a -toss, which sent them some distance away. -After a time I stopped eating, and made a -cocoon. Then I went to sleep!—for many -days—during which I changed wonderfully, -as any one must know who has seen ant -lion babies and now sees me. This is all of -my story, and I suppose we will hear about -another tiresome water baby.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span> -<img src='images/i_088.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘I MADE ONE OF THESE PITS AND IN THE FUNNEL END I LAY IN WAIT FOR ANTS’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“You shall hear about a water baby,” -replied Mrs. Caddice Fly, waving her antennæ -by way of salute, “but tiresome will -do for your own homely children. I will -begin by saying that, with the accidents -of life, it is a wonder that any of us are here. -When we caddice flies were hatched we were -soft, white, six-footed babies. We were -called worms, though we were not worms. -Think of it! Soft bodied, with not very -strong legs, white, and living at the bottom -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>of the pond. Could anything be worse? -No wonder we seemed to do nothing at -first but try to get away from things that -wanted to eat us. I tell you, pond life is -most exciting. After a while the front part -of our bodies and our heads began to turn -brown, and, as the rest of us was white, and -seemed likely to stay so, we all decided to -make a case or house to cover our white part. -So we set to work and of bits of sticks, tiny -stones, and broken shells, glued together with -silk from our own bodies, we made these -cases. True, many of us went down the throat -of Belostoma, the giant water bug, before we -had finished, but those of us who didn’t -crawled into our little houses, locking ourselves -in by two strong hooks which grew -at the end of our bodies. We could move -about, but of course we carried our houses -with us and——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How ridiculous!” said Mrs. Ant Lion. -“Why didn’t you stay still?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Because we didn’t wish to,” answered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>the caddice fly. “We had to eat, and we -had to get away from those who wished to -eat us. At last we went to sleep, after first -spinning a veil of silk over our front and back -doors. I can’t answer for the others, but -when I awoke I tore open my silken door, -threw aside my pupa skin, and found I had -wings. Since then I have had a new life, -but even that has its enemies, and one never -knows what will happen.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>With which doleful saying Mrs. Caddice -Fly sailed away to the pond to lay some eggs -among the water plants.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dear me,” said Mrs. Lacewing, “we seem -to need something cheerful after that. I -am glad I never lived in the water, if it makes -one so blue. Now I shall tell you what my -babies <i>will do</i>, not what I <i>have done</i>. Of -course it is the same thing, but it is looking -forward rather than to the past. After -this meeting is over I shall lay some eggs, -on just what plant I haven’t yet decided, -but it will be in the midst of a herd of aphides. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>Be sure of that. Aphides are plant lice,” -she explained, seeing the question in Ruth’s -eyes. “You will learn more of them later. -Now as to the way I shall lay my eggs: -First, from the tip of my body I shall drop -a thick gummy fluid, and draw it out into -a long, stiff, upright thread, and upon the -end of this thread I shall fasten an egg. -I shall lay a number of eggs in this way, each -on its own pole, so to speak. Some people -may think my way odd, but it is very wise. -A lacewing knows her children. They are -not beautiful. Such short-legged, spindle-shaped -things couldn’t be pretty, but they -are sturdy, and they have an endless appetite.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I should think they would feel lonely on -those ridiculous poles,” said Mrs. Ant Lion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not at all. They are not there long -enough to feel lonely. They are in too -great a hurry for dinner. They are hungry, -with a big H. Now just suppose I should -lay my eggs as the rest of you do, ever so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>many together, what do you think would -happen? I will tell you in a few words. -The dear child who came out first would -eat all his unhatched brothers and sisters. -He doesn’t, only because he can’t reach them.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It’s a wonder he doesn’t eat his pole,” -said Ruth, her face showing what she thought -of such babies.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, it is,” agreed Mrs. Lacewing, “but, -strange to say, he doesn’t seem to care for -it. Indeed, he leaves it as quickly as he can, -and goes hunting. Of course he needn’t -hunt far, for he is in the midst of aphides. -Every mother looks out for that, and really -it is quite a pleasure to see him suck the juice -from aphid after aphid, holding each one -high in the air in his own funny way. So -you can see why lacewing babies are friends -to the farmer and the fruit grower, for aphides -kill plants and trees, and young lacewings -kill aphides. They can eat and eat and eat, -and never grow tired of aphides. Indeed, -they really deserve their name—aphislion. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>When they do stop eating it is to fall -into their long sleep, but first they weave a -cocoon as beautiful as a seed pearl, in which -they change into a most lovely creature—one -like me. Now our meeting is adjourned, -and I hope a certain person has learned a -few things.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, ever and ever so many, thank you,” -answered Ruth gratefully.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_093.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_094.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VI<br /> <span class='large'>RUTH GOES TO A CONCERT</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Oh, sweet and tiny cousins that belong,</div> - <div class='line'>One to the fields, the other to the hearth,</div> - <div class='line'>Both have your sunshine.</div> - <div class='line in38'>—<i>Leigh Hunt.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>Ruth and Belinda were crossing the -meadow, when a big grasshopper -made a flying leap, and landed on -Belinda’s head.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do excuse me,” he said; “I missed my -aim. No one hurt, I hope, or frightened?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, no,” answered Ruth. “Belinda is -real sensible; she isn’t afraid of anything, -and I am just as glad—as <i>glad</i>—to see you. -Maybe you will——”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>Ruth hesitated, hoping he would know what -she meant to say. She was sure he could -tell her a great many things, if only he would. -He was so polite and nice; besides, he looked -very wise.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I suppose you’re going to the concert,” -said Mr. Grasshopper, after waiting a second -for Ruth to finish her sentence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Concert?” she repeated, opening her eyes -wide. “What concert?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why the Straightwings’ Concert. They -give one every sunny day in Summer. Didn’t -you know that? Dear me, where were you -hatched and where have you been living -since? Well, why do you stare at me so? -Don’t you like my looks?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, yes,” Ruth hastened to answer. -“You look very nice—something like a -little old man.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’ve heard that before, and there’s a -story about it. Shall I tell it?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, please; I just love stories.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Very well. Once upon a time, long, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>long ago, there lived in Greece a beautiful -young man named Tithonus. Now it -chanced that Tithonus loved Aurora, the -Goddess of the Dawn.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Greece?” said Ruth. “Why, that’s where -Arachna lived, the one who turned into a -spider, you know?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do you want to hear my story or don’t -you?” asked Mr. Grasshopper, sharply.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I do want to hear it. I really do.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Very well, then, don’t interrupt me again. -As I was saying, Tithonus loved Aurora, and -every morning he would lie in the meadow -and wait for her coming. Then the fair -goddess would give him her sweetest smiles. -But one day Tithonus grew pale and ill, and -all the love of Aurora could not make him -well again. ‘Alas!’ he cried, ‘I am mortal, -and I must die.’ ‘Nay,’ answered Aurora, -‘you shall not die, for I will win for you the -gift of the gods.’ And, speeding to the -mighty Jupiter, she begged that Tithonus -might be as a god, and live forever. So -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>for a while they were happy together, but as -the years passed Tithonus grew old and -bent, for Aurora had forgotten to ask that -he might always be young. Grieving much, -Tithonus lay under the shadow of the trees -and sighed through the long days.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Ah, my Tithonus,’ whispered Aurora, -‘I love you too well to see you thus unhappy. -No more shall you be sad or bend beneath -an old man’s weakness, but, as a child of -the meadow, happy and free, you shall sing -and dance through the golden hours.’ In -that moment Tithonus became a grasshopper, -and ever since then his descendants have -danced and sung in the sunshine. That’s -the end of the story. I might have made it -twice as long, but Summer is so short, and -I want to dance.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It was a very nice story,” said Ruth, -“but do you really dance?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course, our kind of dancing.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But don’t you do lots of other things -too?”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>“Yes; we give concerts, and we eat. We -are hatched with big appetites, and a strong -pair of jaws, and we start right in to use -them on the tender grasses around us. We -only follow our instincts, though men call -it doing damage. You eat, don’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, yes, but I don’t eat grass, you -know.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Because it isn’t your food. You see it’s -this way: In the kingdom of nature all -creatures have a certain work to do, and each -is exactly fitted for its place, for all are governed -by laws more wonderful than any man -has made. Not that I wish to speak lightly -of man, he is good enough in his place, but -he is apt to think himself the whole thing, -and he isn’t. Maybe he doesn’t know that -for every human creature on earth there -are millions of plants and animals.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh,” said Ruth, “really and truly?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Really and truly. You couldn’t begin -to count them, and do you know, if the earth -was to grow quite bare, with only one living -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>plant left on it, the seeds from that one -plant could make it green again in a very -few years. But if certain insects were left -without other creatures to eat and keep -them down, the poor old earth would soon -be bare once more. So you see there must -be laws to fix all these things. Nature balances -one set of creatures against the other, -so there will not be too many of any kind.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth had listened in open-eyed astonishment. -Surely this was a very wise grasshopper.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You know a great deal,” she managed -to say at last.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, I do,” was the answer. “I heard -two men say the things I’ve just told you. -They were walking across this meadow, -and I listened and remembered. You see, I -believe in learning even from men. But -do listen to the concert—we are right in -the middle of it.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span> -<img src='images/i_100.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>THE WISE GRASSHOPPER</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>They certainly <i>were</i> in the middle of it. -The zip, zip, zip, zee-e-ee-e of the meadow -grasshoppers seemed to come from every -part of the sunny field, while the shorthorns, -or flying locusts, were gently fiddling -under the grass blades, their wing covers -serving for strings, and their thighs as -fiddle bows, and the field crickets, not to be -outdone, were scraping away with the finely -notched veins of the fore wings upon their -hind wings.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The longhorns were also there, some in -green, others in brown or gray, all drumming -away on the drum heads set in their fore -wings.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You would hear katydid too,” said Mr. -Grasshopper, “only he refuses to sing in -the day. He hides under the leaves of the -trees while it is light, and comes out at -night. If you think <i>me</i> wise, I don’t know -what you would say of him. He is such a -solemn-looking chap, always dressed in green, -and his wing covers are like leaves. You -might think him afraid if you saw him wave -his long antennæ, but he isn’t. He is curious, -that’s all. It is a high sort of curiosity, too, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>like mine—a wish to learn. I suppose you -know we don’t make our music with our -mouths?” he asked suddenly. “Well, that -is something,” he added, as Ruth nodded -“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I sing with the upper part of my wing -covers, but my cousins, the shorthorns, sing -with their hind legs. Why do you laugh? -Aren’t legs as good to sing with as anything -else?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I—I suppose so,” said Ruth. “It -sounds funny, because I am not used to that -kind of singing.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Just it. Now I shall tell you a few more -facts about us. We belong to the order of -the Straightwings, or the Orthoptera, as the -wise men call it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Will you please tell me what that means?” -asked Ruth. “Do all insects belong to something -ending in tera? Most everything -I have talked to does except toads and -spiders.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And they are not insects,” said Mr. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>Grasshopper. “Not even the spiders. The -word insect means cut into parts, and all -insects have three parts, a head, and behind -that the thorax or chest, and the abdomen. -Then, too, they always have six jointed legs. -Now maybe you have noticed that spiders -are not built on this plan? There are only -two parts of them. The head and thorax -are in one. It is called the cephalothorax. -I’d feel dreadfully carrying such a thing -around with me, but the spiders do not seem -to mind it. Their other part is their abdomen. -I heard a little boy say it was like a squashy -bag; and between ourselves that is about -what it is. Of course you know that spiders -have eight legs and that alone would settle -the question. True insects never have but -six. Now as to the orders: All insects are -divided into groups, and it is something about -the wings which gives them their names. -That is why they all end in ptera, because -ptera comes from pteron, a word which -means wing. It isn’t an English word, you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>know, but is taken from a language called -Greek.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth listened very patiently. If she had -heard all this in school it would have seemed -very dry, but when a grasshopper is telling -you things it is of course quite different.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But I am sure I can never remember it -all,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, yes, you can. Remembering is easy -if you only practise it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, that’s like the White Queen,” -cried Ruth. “She practised believing things -till she could believe six impossible things at -once, before breakfast.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I don’t know the person,” said the grasshopper.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She lived in the Looking Glass Country,” -began Ruth, but Mr. Grasshopper was not -listening.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You have met the Diptera, or Two Wings,” -he said. “That’s easy. Then you’ve met the -Neuroptera, or Nerve Wings. That’s easy -too. And now you have met the Orthoptera, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>or Straightwings, meaning me, and if -I’m not easy, I should like to know who is. -You see our wings are——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Wings?” said Ruth in surprise.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course. Look here,” and opening -his straight wing covers, Mr. Grasshopper -showed as nice a pair of wings as one could -wish to possess. “Not all of us have wings,” -he added, folding his own away, “but those of -us who have not live under stones. Our -order includes graspers, walkers, runners, -and jumpers. Not all are musicians. The -graspers live only in hot countries. Maybe -you have seen the picture of one of them—the -praying mantis he is called, just because -he holds up his front legs as if he were praying. -But it isn’t prayers he is saying. He is -waiting for some insect to come near enough -so he may grab and eat it. That will do for -him. Next come the walkers. The walking -stick is one, and he isn’t a good walker either, -but the stick part of the name fits him. -He is dreadfully thin. There is one on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>that twig now, and he looks so much like the -twig you can scarcely tell which is which.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, so he does,” said Ruth, poking her -finger at the twig Mr. Grasshopper pointed -out. “Isn’t he funny?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indeed,” grumbled the walking stick. -“Maybe you think it polite to come staring -at a fellow, and sticking your finger at him, -and then call him funny, but I don’t. I -want to look like a twig. That’s why I am -holding myself so stiff. I have a cousin in -the Tropics who has wings just like leaves.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes,” added the grasshopper, “and his -wife is so careless she just drops her eggs -from the tree to the ground and never cares -how they fall.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, if that suits her no one else need -object,” snapped the walking stick. “I believe -in each one minding his own business.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“An excellent idea,” said Mr. Grasshopper. -“Now let me see, where was I? Oh! the -runners; but you’ll excuse me, I will not -speak of them at all. They include croton -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>bugs and cock roaches, and it is quite enough -to mention their names. With the jumpers -it is different. They are the most important -members of the order. I’m a jumper, I am -also a true grasshopper. You can tell that -by my long slender antennæ, longer than -my body. For that reason I am called a -longhorn, but my antennæ are really not -horns.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I don’t see how any one <i>could</i> call them -horns,” said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No more do I, but some people have queer -ideas about things. Well, I don’t care much. -There is my mate over there. Do you -notice the sword-shaped ovipositor at the -end of her body? She uses it to make holes -in the ground and also to lay her eggs in the -hole after it is finished. Yes, she is very -careful. Her eggs stay there all Winter, and -hatch in the Spring, not into grubs or caterpillars, -or anything of that sort. They will -be grasshoppers, small, it is true, and without -wings, but true grasshoppers, which need -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>only to grow and change their skins to be -just like us. And I’m sure we have nothing -to be ashamed of. We have plenty of eyes, -six legs, and ears on our forelegs, not like you -people who have queer things on the sides -of your heads. Such a place for hearing! -but every one to his taste. Well, to go on, -we have wing covers, and lovely wings under -them, a head full of lips and jaws, and a jump -that <i>is</i> a jump. What more could one wish? -Do you know what our family name is?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth didn’t know they had a family name, -so of course she could not say what it was.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is Locustidae,” said Mr. Grasshopper, -answering his own question. “Funny too, -for there isn’t a locust among us. Locusts -are the shorthorned grasshoppers—that is, -their antennæ are shorter than ours. They -are cousins, but we are not proud of them. -They are not very good.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No one is asking you to be proud,” -said a grasshopper, jumping from a nearby -grass blade. She had a plump gray and green -<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>body, red legs, and brown wings, with a -broad lemon-yellow band.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What’s the matter with me?” she demanded. -“I guess you don’t know what -you are talking about. It’s the Western -fellow that is so bad. We Eastern locusts -are different.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, I suppose you are,” agreed the -longhorn. “I know the Western locusts -travel in swarms and eat every green thing -in sight. They are called the hateful grasshoppers.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No one can say that our family has -ever been called hateful or anything like it,” -said a little cricket with a merry chirp. “We -are considered very cheery company, and -one of the sweetest stories ever written was -about our English cousin, the house cricket.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am sure you mean ‘The Cricket on the -Hearth,’” said Ruth. “It is a lovely story, -and I think crickets are just dear. Are you -a house cricket too?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, I belong to the fields, and I sing all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>day. Sometimes I go into the house when -Winter comes and sing by the fire at night, -but my real home is in the earth. I dig a -hole in a sunny spot and Mrs. Cricket lays -her eggs at the bottom, and fastens them to -the ground with a kind of glue. Sometimes -there are three hundred of them, and you -can imagine what a lively family they are -when they hatch.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I should like to see them,” said Ruth, -for it was quite impossible for her to imagine -so many baby crickets together.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, it is a sight, I assure you,” answered -the little cricket. “Did you ever come -across my cousin the mole cricket? She is -very large and quite clever. She makes a -wonderful home with many halls around her -nest. She is always on guard too so that no -one may touch her precious eggs. Then I -have another cousin, who doesn’t dress in -brown like me, but is all white. He lives on -trees and shrubs and doesn’t eat leaves and -grass as we do. He prefers aphides. You can -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>hear him making music on Summer evenings. -We crickets seldom fly. We——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The sentence was not finished, for just then -a long droning note grew on the air, increasing -in volume, until it rose above the meadow -chorus.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh!” cried Ruth, spying a creature with -great bulging eyes and beautiful, transparent -wings, glittering with rainbow tints, “There’s -a locust! Isn’t he beautiful, Belinda? Maybe -he will tell us some things. Oh, Belinda, -aren’t we in luck?”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_111.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_112.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VII<br /> <span class='large'>RUTH MEETS MANY SORTS AND CONDITIONS</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The shrill cicadas, people of the pine,</div> - <div class='line'>Make their summer lives one ceaseless song.</div> - <div class='line in40'>—<i>Byron.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>“A locust, indeed,” said the newcomer, -and Ruth could see plainly -that he was not pleased. “It does -seem to me you should know better than that. -Can’t you see I have a <i>sucking</i> beak and not -a <i>biting</i> one, like the grasshopper tribe? -Besides, my music isn’t made like theirs. -No faint, fiddly squeak for me, but a fine -sound of drums.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I think I’ll move on,” said Mr. Grasshopper, -and Ruth could see that he was quite -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>angry. She turned to look at the cricket, -but he was far across the field, fiddling to -his mate.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I wish you wouldn’t go,” she said to the -grasshopper. “You have been so nice to -me and I have learned ever so much from -you.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, I dare say,” was the answer. “More -than you will learn from some people I could -mention, but I really must leave you. My -mate wants me.” And a flying leap carried -him quite away.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There, we are rid of the old grandfather,” -said the cicada, “and now what can I do for -you?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tell me your real name if it is not locust,” -answered Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It certainly is not locust. I’ve been -called a harvest fly, though I am not a fly -either. I’m a cicada, and nothing else, and -I belong to the order of bugs.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And what kind of tera is it?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tera?” repeated the cicada, looking at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>her with his big eyes. “Oh, yes, yes, I -understand. You mean our scientific name. -It is Hemiptera, meaning half-wings. I know -we have some objectionable members, but I -don’t have to associate with them, and I -rarely mention their names. I have a cousin -who lives in the ground seventeen years. -Think of it! Of course he is only a grub -and doesn’t care for air and sun. I lived -there two years myself, but I was a grub -also then. You see my mother put her eggs -in the twig of a tree, and when I came out -of one of them I wanted to get to the ground -more than I wanted anything else, so I just -crawled out to the end of the branch and -let go. Down I went, over and over, to the -ground, where I soon bored my way in, and -began to suck the juices of the roots about -me. I liked it then, but I couldn’t stand it -now. Of course the moles were trying. -They were always hungry and we were one -of the things they liked for dinner. One -day something seemed to call me to the world -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>of light, and I came out a changed being—in -fact, the beautiful creature you see before -you now. Perhaps you do not know how -much attention we have attracted? In all -ages poets have sung of us, even from the -days of Homer. Maybe you will not believe -me, but the early Greeks thought us almost -divine, and when Homer wished to say the -nicest things about his orators he compared -them to cicadas. A while ago I told you -we were sometimes called harvest flies. We -have also been given the name Lyremen. -Shall I tell you why?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A story!” cried Ruth, clapping her hands. -“Oh, yes, please tell it!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Very well. Once upon a time, ages ago, -a young Grecian player was competing for -a prize, and so sweet was the music he drew -from his lyre that all who heard it felt he -must surely win. But alas! when he was -nearly finished one of his strings snapped, -and, with a sad heart, he thought that all his -hope was gone. Not so, however, for a cicada, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>drawn from the woods by the sweet sounds, -had perched upon the lyre and when the musician’s -trembling fingers touched the broken -string it gave forth a note that was clear and -true. Thus again and again the cicada -answered in tones that were sweet and full. -When the happy player realized that the -cicada had won the prize for him, he was so -filled with gratitude that he caused a full -figure of himself to be carved in marble, and -in his hand a lyre with a cicada perched -upon it. Now wouldn’t you be proud if -your family had such a nice story about -them?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’m sure it is very nice,” agreed Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yet I’m not one to brag,” added the -cicada, “and I am never ashamed to say I’m -a bug. Now if you will come with me to -the pond I will show you some of my cousins. -They are very interesting.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And with a whiz the gauzy-winged fellow -darted up into the sunshine, and Ruth, -following him across the meadow, could only -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>hug Belinda in a rapture of expectation, and -whisper in a low voice:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Aren’t we in luck, Belinda—just the -best kind of luck?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>They had gone only a little way, however, -when a mole pushed his strong little snout -above the ground.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Gracious! what a noise,” he said. “If -I had had a chance when you were a baby -you wouldn’t be here now to disturb quiet-minded -people.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth jumped. She thought the mole -meant he would have eaten her. Then she -laughed. “Of course it was the cicada he -was talking to,” but the cicada didn’t mind.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I know that very well,” he answered, -cheerfully, “but you didn’t get me. That -makes all the difference, and now you can’t.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, nobody wants you now. You would -be mighty dry eating, but when you were -a grub, oh, my! so fat and juicy, like all -the other grubs and slugs and worms. I eat -you all. Yet what thanks do I get from man -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>for doing away with so many of his enemies? -Complaints, nothing but complaints, and -just because I raise a few ridges in the -ground. I can’t help that. When I move -underground I push the earth before me, and, -as it has to go somewhere, it rises up.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What do you push with?” asked Ruth, -sitting down in front of the mole.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“With my snout and forepaws,” he answered, -“what else? The muscle which -moves my head is very powerful, and you -can see how broad my forepaws are, and, -also, that they turn outward. They help -to throw back the earth as I make my way -forward. I have ever so many sharp little -teeth, too, and my fur lies smooth in all -directions, so it never rumples and——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do come on,” interrupted the cicada; -“that fellow isn’t interesting.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That’s so,” said a thin little voice, as -an earthworm cautiously lifted his head -from the ground. “Has he gone?” he asked -anxiously. “He’d eat me sooner than wink -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>if he saw me. It is warm and damp this -morning, that is why I am so near the surface. -I don’t like dry or cold weather. My -house——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Have you a house?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth had turned upon him in a second, -full of questions as usual.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Certainly I have a house. It is a row of -halls, lined with glue from my own body. -The walls are so firm they can’t fall in. -Underground is really a delightful place to -live, snug and soft, cool in Summer, warm in -Winter. Lots to see, too. All the creeping, -twining roots and stems reaching out for -food, storing it away, or sending it up as sap -to the leaves. The seeds waking up in the -Spring, and hosts of meadow and wood people -wrapped in egg and cocoon, who spend their -baby days there. Quite a little world, I -assure you. Of course I can’t see any of -these things. I have no eyes.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh!” said Ruth, “how dreadful!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, it is just as well. If I had eyes I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>might get earth in them. I go through -the ground so much.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But isn’t that awful hard work?” asked -Ruth, shutting her eyes to realize what having -no eyes might mean.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It isn’t hard when one has a nice set of -bristles, as I have to help me along.” The -earthworm was one who saw the best side of -everything. “I am made up of more than a -hundred rings,” he went on, “and on each are -small stiff hair-like bristles so, though I have -neither eyes, ears, hands, nor feet, I am quite -independent. I can move very fast, and the -slime that covers me keeps the earth from -sticking to me. Do you know I am the -only jointed animal that has red blood? -It is so. I do no harm, either, to growing -things, and I help to build the world. My -tunnels let air into the ground and help to -keep it loose. I also bring up rich soil from -below, and lay it on the surface. I also——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, that’s enough,” interrupted the -cicada, moving his wings impatiently. “I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>thought you wanted to see <i>my</i> relations?” -he added to Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So I do,” answered Ruth. “Where are -they?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There are a number of them right in this -meadow, though you would never think it, -to look at them. They are not at all like -me. See that white froth clinging to those -grass stems? A cousin made that. Of the -sap of the plant too. If you look, you will -find her in the midst of it. She is green and -speckled and very small. Then there are -the tree hoppers, as funny in shape as brownies, -and the leaf hoppers. They are all my -cousins. The aphides too. Of course you -know the aphides?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I believe they were the things Mrs. -Lacewing told me I should learn about later,” -said Ruth, with sudden remembrance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Very likely. Mrs. Lacewing’s children -should know about them. The aphides are -very bad, though they are so very tiny. -But what they lack in size they make up in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>numbers. Really there are millions of them. -They are not travellers, either, but stay -just where they are hatched, and suck, -suck, suck. In that way they kill many -plants, for it is the sap of the plant, its life -juice, which serves them for food. They -eat so much of this that their bodies can’t -hold it all, and what they don’t need is given -off as honey dew. The ants like this honey -so well that to get it they take good care of -the aphides. But there are some aphides -which do not give off honey dew. Do you see -this white stuff on the alder bushes?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes. I’ve often seen it before, too. It -looks like soft white fringe.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, it isn’t. It is a lot of aphides, each -with a tuft of wool on its body, and a beak -fast stuck in the alder stem.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>They had now reached the pond, which -lay smiling in the sunshine.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It would be so pretty,” said Ruth, throwing -herself down on the grass, “if it wasn’t for -the horrid, green, oozy stuff all over it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>“Horrid, green, oozy stuff?” repeated the -cicada. “Child, you don’t know what you -are talking about. That green stuff is made -up of tiny green plants more than you could -count. Each has a rootlet hanging down like -a silver thread and leaves almost too small to -be called so. They are green though and -they do the mighty work of all green leaves, -for, besides shading the pond world from the -hot rays of the sun, they make for the many -inhabitants the life-giving oxygen without -which they would die. And I want to tell -you something more: In that duckweed—for -what you call green, oozy stuff is duckweed—there -are millions of tiny living -things too small to be seen by the eye except -with the aid of a microscope.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth looked quite as astonished as the -cicada meant she should be.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You have a great deal to learn, I assure -you. Maybe you haven’t thought of the -pond as a world, but just see what a busy -place it is.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>Ruth looked and agreed with the cicada. -Dragon flies were darting here, there, and -everywhere; frogs, with their heads out of -the water, seemed to be admiring the scenery -when they were not swallowing air or whatever -else came in their way; glancing minnows -and bright-eyed tadpoles played amongst -the swaying water weeds; even the wrigglers -were there, standing on their heads in their -own funny way; and the water striders, skating -after their own queer fashion. Yes, it -was a busy place.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A party of whirligig beetles came dashing -by, circling, curving, spinning, and making -such a disturbance that a backswimmer lost -his patience and told them to be quiet.</p> - -<p class='c012'>They didn’t like that at all, so they threw -about him a very disagreeable milky fluid -which made the backswimmer dive for the -bottom in a hurry.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That settled him,” said one of the whirligigs. -“Hello! friend Skipper Jack,” he called -to a water strider, “what are you doing?”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>“Skating, of course,” answered the water -strider. “There, they are gone,” he added, -to the cicada, “and I am glad of it. They -are nuisances.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You are right,” agreed the cicada.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am glad they don’t belong to our order.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Don’t they?” asked Ruth. “I think they -are awfully funny.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Funny or not, they are beetles,” answered -the water strider. “You had better use -your eyes. Do you know why I can skate -and not get my feet wet? No, of course you -don’t, and yet it is as plain as the nose on -your face. I have a coat of hairs on the -under side of my body. That’s why. I -spend my time on the surface of the water, -for my dinner is right here. Plenty of gnats, -insect eggs, and other eatables. Then if -I wish I can spring up in the air for the -things that fly. My Winters I spend under -water, but for other seasons give me the surface.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And I like the bottom best,” said a water -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>boatman, showing himself quite suddenly, -his air-covered body glittering like silver -armour.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Another cousin,” whispered the cicada -in Ruth’s ear. “He is called the water -cicada, as well as water boatman.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“He looks more like a boat than he does -like you,” said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My body is boat-shaped,” spoke up the -boatman; “and see my hind legs; they really -are like oars, aren’t they?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am wondering what brought you to -the surface,” said the cicada.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, I let go my hold on that old water -weed, and you know the air that covers my -body makes it lighter than the water and -unless I cling to something I naturally rise. -It is inconvenient, for I do not need to come -to the surface for air. I can breathe the -same air over and over, because I know how -to purify it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How do you do it?” asked Ruth. Surely -these insects were wonderfully clever.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>“Oh, I simply hang to something with my -front legs, while I move my back ones just -as I do in swimming, and that makes a current -of water pass over my coat of air and -purify it. That fellow swimming on his -back over there is obliged to come to the -surface every little while. He carries air -down in a bubble under his wings.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do you mean me?” asked the backswimmer, -making a sudden leap in the air, -and flying away.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Gracious!” cried Ruth in surprise. “I -didn’t know he could fly.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There’s a good deal you don’t know,” -replied the water boatman, a remark Ruth -had heard before. “I can fly too,” and he -also spread his wings and was off.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well,” said the cicada, “I guess we might -as well be off too. There seems to be no -one in sight to interest us.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What about cousin Belostoma?” asked -a sort of muffled voice, as a great pair of bulging -eyes showed themselves above the water, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>and out came the giant water bug as big as -life.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’ve just had my dinner,” he said. “It -really is funny to see how everything hides -when Belostoma shows his face. My wife -is the only one who doesn’t seem to be afraid -of me and she—well, she’s a terror and no -mistake.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, what’s the matter now?” asked the -cicada.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And what has happened to your back?” -added Ruth, with eager curiosity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My wife’s happened, that’s what,” answered -Belostoma in a doleful tone. “She -laid her eggs a while ago and glued every -blessed one to my back. It is nothing to -laugh at either. There’s no joke in being a -walking incubator. Well, I must be going -now. It is dinner time.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I thought you just had your dinner,” -said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, but it’s time again. It is always -time. How silly you are.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>“I must go too,” said the cicada, “but it -isn’t dinner that calls me. I feel sure my -mate is longing for some music and I’m -off to give her a bit. See you later.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And, spreading his wings, the cicada flew -away, beating his drums as he went.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_129.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_130.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VIII<br /> <span class='large'>MRS. TUMBLE BUG AND OTHERS</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Their wings with azure green</div> - <div class='line in2'>And purple glossed.</div> - <div class='line in18'>—<i>Anna L. Barbauld.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>Something exciting was going on. -Ruth could not tell just what it was -at first. She could only watch and -wonder. Then her eyes grew large and bright. -Surely some fairy’s wand had touched the -old orchard, for suddenly it seemed alive -with beetles—big beetles and little beetles; -beetles in sober colourings, and beetles gleaming -with all the tints of the rainbow. Ruth -had never dreamed that there could be so -many of them or that they were so beautiful.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>The gorgeously coloured, graceful tigers -attracted her first, though she didn’t know -their name.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh,” she cried, “how lovely!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And how strange,” added a voice just -above her head, “how very strange, their -children should be so homely.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What’s that?” asked one of the tigers, -a metallic green fellow, with purple lights, -and two pale yellow dots on the edge of each -wing cover. “Our children not so beautiful -as we are, did you say? Of course, they are -not; a fat grub couldn’t be, you know. But -let me tell you, there are few things as smart -as a tiger beetle baby. I say,” he added, -looking full at Ruth, “have you ever seen -the hole he digs? It is often a foot deep, -while he is less than an inch long. He has -only his jaws and fore legs to work with -too. Yet he piles the earth on his flat head -as if it were the easiest thing in the world, -and then, climbing to the top, he throws it -off, and is ready for another load.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>“I suppose he digs a hole to catch things,” -said Ruth, “like the ant lion, and does he -stay at the bottom and——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, he doesn’t stay at the bottom. He -watches near the top of his hole for his dinner, -hanging on by a pair of hooks which grow -out of a hump on his back. He always goes -to the bottom to eat his dinner, though; -he seems to like privacy. Yes, we are a -fierce family from the beginning, for we -grown tigers can catch our prey either running -or flying, and we usually manage to get -it, too. But, then, farmers need not complain -of us, for we never eat plants, and that is -more than can be said of many here.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Such taste,” said a cloaked, knotty horn, -holding herself in a position that showed -off her changeable blue and green dress, and -her short yellow cape.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But the tiger did not answer. He was off -after his dinner. Several tree borers, however, -nodded their heads in agreement.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I believe in a vegetable diet myself,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>said Mrs. Sawyer, who wore as usual her -dress of brown and gray. “It is just such -people as the tigers who make things like -that necessary in a respectable meeting,” -and as she spoke she waved her very long -antennæ toward a big sign which read:</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='small'>“THE AUDIENCE ARE REQUESTED NOT TO EAT EACH OTHER DURING THE MEETING”</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“I am glad to say I am not one of that -kind. I wonder if any one of you know why -the members of our family are called sawyers. -Perhaps I had better tell you: It is because -our children saw into the trunks of evergreen -trees, and sometimes they make holes -large enough to kill the trees. Smart, isn’t -it, for a baby?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But it doesn’t seem to be very nice,” -began Ruth. Then she stopped, for Mrs. -Sawyer was looking at her and the borers -were nodding their heads again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Our children do not saw,” said the borers, -“but they do bore, and it is pretty much the -same thing for the tree.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>“My friends,” broke in a very solemn voice.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Every beetle stopped talking, and Ruth -jumped to her feet, then flopped down on -the grass again, waiting for what was coming.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The speaker, a large, clean-looking beetle, -had just flown to a twig in the very middle -of the meeting. He was black in colour, well -sprinkled above and below with pale straw -yellow in dots and points, but the queer -thing about him was the two oval velvety -black spots, each with a narrow line of straw -colour around it, on his thorax. They were -like great eyes, and made him look very wise.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“He is the eyed-elater,” whispered Mrs. -Sawyer to Ruth. “There he is speaking -again.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My friends,” the big beetle was saying -in tones as solemn, as before, “the important -thing in any meeting is to keep to the -main issue.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The main issue?” said the goldsmith -beetle, a beautiful little creature with wing -covers of golden yellow, and a body of metallic -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>green covered with white, woolly fuzz. -“What is the main issue?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dinner,” replied the tiger beetle, returning -to his old place. “If it isn’t breakfast -or supper.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, my friend,” said the eyed-elater, -with a grave glance, “the main issue is——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then he stopped and fixed his two real -eyes and the two spots which looked like -eyes on some small beetles which were leaping -in the air, turning somersaults, and making -quite a noise.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Will you be still?” he said in his sternest -voice.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How foolish,” said Mrs. Sawyer, “to -expect click beetles to be still!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But Ruth was all curiosity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’ve seen you before,” she said, going -closer and touching one of the funny little -fellows.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Suddenly it curled up its legs, dropped -as if shot, then lay like one dead.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Here, here!” called the elater. “No -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>more of that! We know all about your -tricks!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“All right,” said the would-be dead one, -and he gave a click, popped into the air -several inches, and came down on his back.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That won’t do at all,” he said, and, clicking -and popping once more, he came down -on his feet.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There,” he added, “you need to have -patience with click beetles. You ought to -know that, friend elater, for you are one of -us.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, I’m bigger, and not so foolish, and -my children are not so harmful as yours. -Think of being a parent of those dreadful -wire worms! That is what you click beetles -are, and you know the farmer hasn’t a -worse enemy. Now we must get back to -the main issue.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“<i>Back?</i>” said Mrs. Sawyer. “Were we -ever there to begin with? You can’t scare -me,” she added, “no matter how hard you -stare. You haven’t any more eyes than the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>rest of us. Those two spots are not real -eyes, and you know it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The main issue,” repeated the elater in -a very loud voice, “is, What makes us beetles?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That’s something I’d like to know,” -said a handsome little beetle in a striped coat. -“I’m a beetle, if there ever was one, yet I -have a world-wide reputation as a bug.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Pray don’t get excited, Mrs. Potato Bug. -It isn’t your time to talk yet. We are on the -main issue, and I will answer my own question.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth was glad some one would answer it, -for at this rate it seemed they would never -get anywhere.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We are beetles for several reasons,” went -on the elater. “In the first place, we belong -to the order Coleoptera.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Another tera, thought Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That name is taken from a language called -Greek, and means sheath wing. It is given to -us because we have handsome outside wings -which we use to cover our real flying wings. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>All beetles have them, though those of our -cousin, Mr. Rove Beetle, are quite short.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That’s a fact,” said a rove beetle, “and -no one need think we have outgrown our -coats. It is simply a fashion in our family -to wear our sheath wings short. We can always -fold our true wings under them, and -I’d like to see the fellow who says we can’t.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, you needn’t get so mad about it,” -answered the elater in mild tones.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And don’t curl your body up as if you -were a wasp,” added Mrs. Sawyer. “Everybody -knows you can’t sting.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I don’t care,” said the rove beetle. “I -hate to be misunderstood. We are useful -too. I heard a man call us scavengers. -I don’t know what it means, but something -good, I am sure, from the way he said it. -I must be going soon. It is so dry here. -You know my home is in damp places under -stones or leaves.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You may go when you wish,” answered -the elater. “We are still on the main issue. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>As I said before, we are beetles, and there -is no reason to take us for bugs. Calm -yourself, Mrs. Potato Bug. We have no -sucking beak as the bugs have, but we have -two sets of horny jaws, which move sideways, -and <i>not</i> up and down. These are to bite -roots, stems, and leaves of plants, so most -of our order live on vegetable food and are -enemies to the farmer, but some of us are his -friends, for we eat the insects that injure -his crops. Our children are called grubs. -Some of them make a sort of glue, with which -they stick together earth or bits of wood for -a cocoon; others make tunnels in tree trunks -or wood and transform in them. We may -well be proud, for we belong to a large and -beautiful order, and we are found in all -parts of the world. We are divided into two -sub-orders—true beetles and snout beetles. -I hope our cousins, the snout beetles, will -not be offended. They are real in a way.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The farmer and fruit grower think so -anyway,” said a little weevil. “We have been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>called bugs just because we have a snout, -but any one can see at a glance that it isn’t -a bug’s snout. It is not a tube at all, but -has tiny jaws at the tip.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I don’t believe I could see all that,” said -Ruth rather timidly, for these clever little -people had a way of making her feel she knew -very little.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Maybe you can’t,” was the short answer, -“and I dare say you can’t tell how we use -our snouts either. We punch holes with -them in plums, peaches, cherries, and other -fruits, not to mention nuts and the bark of -trees. I am a peach curculio, but that is not -important. We all work in the same way—that -is, drop an egg in the hole made by -our snout, then use the snout again to push -the egg down. Mrs. Plum Weevil is busy -now in the plum orchard back of us; so of -course she couldn’t come to this meeting. -‘Duty before pleasure,’ she said. She will lay -eggs in quite a number of plums, and the plums -will drop from the trees before they are ripe.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>“And there’ll be a lump of gum on them!” -cried Ruth, clapping her hands.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The weevil looked at her with approval. -“You do notice some things,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The gum oozes out of the hole made by -our snouts. Of course our egg hatches inside -the fruit, and the baby has its dinner all -around it. As it hasn’t a leg to walk on——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dear! dear!” sighed the elater. “You -seem to forget that we are trying to keep -to the main issue. As I said before——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You are always saying what you said -before,” snapped Mrs. Sawyer.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now, they are beginning again,” thought -Ruth, but the elater paid no attention to Mrs. -Sawyer.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“As I said before,” he repeated, “we have -reason to be proud, for though we build no -cities, like ants, wasps, and bees, and make -no honey or wax, or have, in fact, any special -trades, yet we are interesting and beautiful. -The ancient Egyptians thought some of us -sacred and worshipped us.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>“There!” cried Mrs. Tumble Bug, literally -tumbling into their midst. “I couldn’t -come at a better time.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth gave a little scream of delight when -she saw her, and Mrs. Tumble Bug nodded -with the air of an old friend.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As usual, her black dress looked neat and -clean, though she and her husband had rolled -and tumbled all over the road in their effort -to get their ball to what they considered the -best place for it. They had succeeded, and -Mrs. Tumble Bug’s shovel-shaped face wore -a broad smile in consequence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I knew about this meeting,” she said, -“but my husband and I agreed that duty -should come before pleasure.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She heard me say that,” whispered -the little peach weevil to her nearest neighbour.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I didn’t,” answered Mrs. Tumble Bug. -“I have just come. We only found a safe -place for our ball a little while ago.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That ball!” said Mrs. Sawyer in disgusted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>tones. “I should think you would -be tired of it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tired of our ball?” repeated Mrs. Tumble -Bug. “Why, our ball is the most important -thing in the world. This was a big one, too. -We made it in Farmer Brown’s barnyard, -and then I laid my eggs in it, and we rolled -it all the way here. Of course it grew on the -road, and I couldn’t have moved it alone, -but my mate helped me. He always helps. -Indeed it seems to me tumble bugs are the -only husbands in the insect world who care -about their children’s future.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now I know,” said Ruth, who had been -thinking very hard. “You think so much -of your balls because they hold your eggs. -I’ve often wondered about them.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course that is the reason,” answered -Mrs. Tumble Bug; “and when our eggs -hatch the babies will have a feast all around -them.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ugh!” said Ruth, and some flower beetles -shook their little heads, and added:</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>“It would be better to starve than eat the -stuff in that ball.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tastes differ,” said Mrs. Tumble Bug, -amiably; “but, speaking of sacred beetles, -it was our family the Egyptians worshipped. -They could not understand why we were -always rolling our ball, so they looked upon -us as divine in some way, and made pictures -of us in stone and precious gems. They -can be seen to-day, I am told, but I do not -care about that. I must make another -ball,” and, nodding to her mate, they left -the meeting together.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now we’ll adjourn for dinner,” announced -the elater, much to the disgust of Mrs. Potato -Bug, who was just getting ready to speak.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dinner is well enough,” she said, “but -how is one to enjoy it when one must stop -in a little while?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You needn’t stop,” answered the elater. -“Stay with your dinner. We are not so -anxious to hear you talk.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But I mean to talk, and I <i>will</i>,” and Mrs. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>Potato Bug was off to the potato field, intending, -as she said, to take a light lunch, -and be back when the meeting opened.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But potato bugs propose, and farmers dispose, -and——</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_145.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_146.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IX<br /> <span class='large'>LITTLE MISCHIEF MAKERS</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>It’s a wonder, it’s a wonder</div> - <div class='line'>That they live to tell the tale.</div> - <div class='line in38'>—<i>Anon.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>Mrs. Potato Bug did not return. -A sister bug rose to speak when the -meeting opened after dinner. There -had been a sad tragedy in the potato field, -she told them, and even at that very minute -the farmer and the farmer’s men, armed with -barrels of “pizens,” were waging a warfare -in which millions of potato bugs were going -down to their death. “Alas! my friends,” -she finished with a sigh that seemed to come -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>from the very tips of her six feet, “no words -can paint the dreadful scene. She who was -here but a short while ago, so chipper and so -gay, even she was giving her last gasp as I -fled from the field of carnage.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The story moved the audience deeply, -and all agreed that something should be done -to suppress the farmers. It was even suggested -to appoint a committee to consider -ways and means, but at this point a very -young potato bug asked the question:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“If there were no farmers, who would -plant potatoes for us?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No one,” answered Mrs. Sawyer, who was -there just as self-important as ever. “Then -maybe there would be no potato bugs, and -I for one wouldn’t be sorry.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indeed,” said the potato bug who had -told the tale of battle, “I’d have you know -we are Colorado beetles, if you please, and -our family has a world-wide fame. We are -true Americans, too, and not emigrants from -Europe, like many other insects, and that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>reminds me: The other day when I was having -a nice chew on some very juicy potato -leaves, I heard somebody say to somebody -else: ‘Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of -the West.’ He said a lot more, but I heard -that plainly, and I wondered if he meant our -family, and didn’t know our name, because, -you know, we came out of the West.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am sure he didn’t mean you,” said Ruth, -who was in her old place right in the middle -of the meeting. “That line is from a lovely -piece of poetry about——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No one asked your opinion,” answered -the potato bug angrily. “It is bad enough -to have outsiders force themselves in, without -being obliged to hear their silly remarks.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth’s face grew red, and she was about to -reply, when Mrs. Sawyer whispered in her ear.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Don’t mind her, she is only a potato bug.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was well that Mrs. Potato Bug did not -hear this. “Before 1859,” she was saying, -“our home was in the shade of the Rocky -Mountains. There we fed on sandspur, a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>plant belonging to the potato family, and the -East knew us not. It was only after the -white settlers came West and planted potatoes -that we found out how much nicer a potato -leaf is than a sandspur leaf, so of course we -ate potato leaves. We came East, travelling -from patch to patch, and by 1874 we had -conquered the country to the Atlantic Ocean. -That shows what a smart family we must -be, and I will tell you how we do. We lay -our eggs on the potato leaves, and our children -find their dinner all ready, and, as they hatch -with splendid appetites, they get right to -work. Those that hatch in the Fall sleep -all Winter in the ground and come out as -beetles in the Spring, just in time to lay more -eggs. So we keep things going, especially -the potatoes.” And Mrs. Potato Bug retired -with the air of one quite proud of herself.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her place was taken by a little ladybug, -looking quite pretty in her reddish-brown -dress, daintily spotted with black.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I have several cousins,” she said, “of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>different colours, but all spotted and all friends -to farmers and fruit growers, for we eat the -aphides and scale bugs which do so much -harm to plants. We are called bugs, but of -course we are beetles. I could tell you a -story——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Never mind the story,” said a great brown -blundering fellow, much to Ruth’s regret, -for she wanted to hear the story.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Excuse my awkwardness,” said the newcomer. -“It bothers me to fly by day. I -like to go around the evening lamps. I can -buzz loud enough for a fellow three inches -long, though I am really not one. I am -called a June bug, and I’m really a May -beetle. What do you think of that? I have -been told that the farmers do not like us, -nor our children either. They are such -nice, fat, white grubs too. They do love -to suck the roots of plants though, and, -as we grown fellows are just as fond of the -leaves, between us we make the poor old -plants pretty sick.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>“I wish something had made you sick -before you came here to disturb quiet folks -with your buzzing,” said a large blue beetle, -dropping some oil from her joints in her -excitement.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” she added when -Ruth spoke to her about it. “It only proves -that I have a right to be called an oil beetle. -In these days it is so important to know who -is who.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth was watching the oozing oil curiously.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Does it hurt?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, no,” was the answer. “It is perfectly -natural. I can’t move about fast, I -am too fat, and I haven’t any wings to speak -of. So when anything disturbs me I can -only play ’possum and drop oil. I wasn’t -always like this, though,” she went on, -with a heavy sigh. “Would you believe it? -I was born under a stone in a field of buttercups. -I was tiny, but my body had thirteen -joints and three pairs of as active little legs -as you ever saw. Each had a claw on it too. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>What do you think of that? I used my legs -right away to climb a nearby flower stalk. -Something inside of me seemed to tell me -just what to do, and when a bee came flying -by, though she looked like a giant, I wasn’t -a bit afraid, but I popped on her back, and -clutched so tight with my six little claw-like -legs she couldn’t have gotten me off if she -had tried. But maybe she didn’t know I -was there. Anyway, I had some lovely -free rides, for she flew from flower to flower, -and then she went home.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh,” interrupted Ruth, “did you go right -into the hive?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, but I didn’t notice much about it -at first. I felt very tired, and I can only -remember dropping from her back and going -to sleep. When I awoke a funny thing had -happened.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What?” asked Ruth, full of curiosity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My legs were gone, and only a half dozen -short feelers were left me instead. But I -didn’t mind. I was in one of the tiny rooms -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>of the hive, and there was a nice fat bee -baby for me to eat. I didn’t lose any time -either; I was hungry. Besides the baby -there were bee bread and honey. Who could -ask for more? Indeed, I ate so much I went -to sleep again, and, would you believe me? -in that sleep I lost even my short feelers, -and, worst of all, my mouth.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Gracious!” said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I suppose after that I slept again, for -what’s the use of staying awake if you can’t -eat? But that nap finished me. I waked -up looking as I do now. It was a sad change. -Maybe that is why I feel so blue and am -called the indigo beetle.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I don’t see why you changed so many -times,” said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Neither do I. No other insect does, but -I suppose it has to be. I shall soon lay my -eggs, and that no doubt will be the end of me. -We seem to begin and end with eggs.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She sighed heavily, and went on: “I -have a cousin who is used to make blisters -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>on people. Think of it! She is called Spanish -fly, and she is no more a fly than you are.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Does she bite them to make the blister?” -asked Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dear me, no! The poor thing is dried -and made into powder and then spread with -ointment on a cloth. That makes the blister. -I suppose it takes ever so many of my poor -cousins for just one blister. I tell you, life -is sad.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do stop that sort of thing, I can’t stand -it!” said a plain, slender little beetle, with -no pretensions to beauty of any sort. “I -came here as a special favour, and then I am -forced to hear such talk as that. I am never -at my best in the day, and you should know -it. Some of you complain of being called -bug, and others object to the name fly. -Now I am as much a beetle as any of you, and -I’ve been called both bug and fly.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A lightning bug?” cried Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, and also firefly, and if it was dark -I’d prove it. Of course my light can’t be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>seen in the day, and generally I’m not to be -seen either, for we fireflies hide away on the -leaves of plants until it begins to grow dark. -Then we come out, and have gay times flying -over the meadows. Some of our family -who live in warm climates are so large and -bright they are used to read by. Not only -that, ladies wear them as they would jewels, -and in Japan——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But the firefly could say no more, for just -at this moment some whirligig beetles came -flying in and every one turned to look at -them.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I should like to know what those fellows -are doing here,” said a bumble-bee beetle, -making such a loud humming that Mrs. -Sawyer declared she thought a real bumble bee -was in their midst. “People who live -in the water shouldn’t belong to our family, -anyhow. I can’t imagine any one liking the -water.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That’s because you are not a water -beetle,” answered one of the whirligigs.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>“Why, the water is the most sociable place -in the world. Something lively happening -all the time. Constant changes too. Those -who are with us one moment are gone the -next, but that is life on land as well as in -the water for us insects. Dinner is always -our first thought. Of course we water fellows -are fitted for our life. We are put together -more tightly than you land beetles, and we -are boat-shaped besides. We use our hind -legs for paddles, and we have wings with -which we can leave the water if we wish. -We whirligigs are sociable fellows, always -a lot of us together, and such fun as we -have dancing and whirling about in the water! -We don’t often dive unless something is -after us.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You must have very good times,” said -Ruth, watching the shiny, bluish black little -beetles with eager attention. Then she asked -quite suddenly:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Have you four eyes?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, my dear,” answered the first speaker, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>“we have only two. They look like four, -because they are divided into upper and -lower halves. So you see we can look up -and down at the same time, and, I tell you, -insects need to step lively to keep out of our -way. Good times? I should say we did -have good times. Now to the surface to -snatch bubbles of air with the tiny hairs on -the tip of our tails, and then down again for -a race or a game of tag with our friends. -No, not all the water beetles are as frisky -as we are. Some are—now what <i>is</i> that?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The whirligig might well ask the question, -for a sound like a tiny popgun had broken -in upon his remarks, and the whole audience, -including Ruth of course, was looking at a -greenish blue beetle who had just come in, -leaving a fine trail of smoke behind him. -It was he who had made the queer noise, -and he seemed quite disturbed by the sensation -he was creating.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do excuse me,” he begged. “I really -forgot I was among friends.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>“I should think so,” answered the elater, -looking at him sternly. “A beetle who carries -a gun should be careful about using it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, I try to be careful, but accidents -will happen.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, you might really call it a gun,” he -said, in answer to Ruth’s question, “and I -have been named the Bombardier beetle -because I carry it. When men try to catch -me, I shoot it off, though I suppose it really -doesn’t hurt them, but it quite blinds my -insect enemies until I can get away, anyhow. -Oh, no, I do not use balls or shot. It is a -fluid, in a sac at the end of my body, and when -I spurt it out it turns to gas, and looks like -smoke.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, we have had talk enough for to-day,” -interrupted the elater, and the Bombardier -beetle said no more.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Talk?” repeated Mrs. Sawyer, “I should -say so. Very tiresome talk too. Now I’m -going out to lay some eggs. I know a lovely -tree.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>“That’s all she thinks about,” said the -elater. “I’m sure we have had a very interesting -meeting, and I made the main issue -very plain.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_159.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_160.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER X<br /> <span class='large'>SOME QUEER LITTLE PEOPLE</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>That nothing walks with aimless feet.</div> - <div class='line in40'>—<i>Tennyson.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>In a corner of the garden, where the lilacs -grew tall and broad, Ruth was waiting -for something to happen. She had a -feeling, as she told Belinda, that the most -interesting things were coming, for the wind -had been kissing her cheeks and ruffling -her hair, just as though it was saying to her, -“Watch now. Watch closely and listen.” -Then, too, the garden seemed to be alive. -Bees droning over the flowers; wasps collecting -their tiny balls of wood pulp or marketing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>for their families; ants running here, there, -and everywhere; not to mention many other -winged creatures, some of whom were made -after a fashion so queer that Ruth, forgetting -how rude it is to make personal remarks, -deliberately asked of one:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“If you please, what is that long piece -which seems to be growing from the tip of -your body? It looks like Mary’s stove hook -when she sticks it in the lid.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That,” was the rather short answer, “is -my abdomen, and it isn’t growing from the -tip of my body, but from the <i>top</i> of my thorax. -It seems to me you have never seen an -ensign fly before.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, I never did. Please, what does -ensign mean?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The dictionary will tell you that. All -I know is some man got an idea that we -carried our abdomens aloft like a flag or -ensign, and so named us ensign fly. We are -not flies, to begin with, but we have to keep -any idiotic name they choose to tack on us. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>Now take Mrs. Horntail, who wants——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank you, I can speak for myself,” -interrupted the horntail, sharply. She was -quite handsome, with her black abdomen -banded with yellow, her red and black head, -yellow legs and horn, and dusky wings.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I like my name. It means something, -for I have a horn on my tail, and, what’s -more, I use it. You should see me bore into -solid green wood. None of your dead wood -for me. I am not content with one hole -either. I bore a great many, and in each -I drop an egg, and when my babies hatch -they get fat on the sap wood of the tree.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There seem to be such a lot of things to -eat trees,” said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Perhaps there are, but I am interested -in horntail babies only. They do their share -of eating too, and when they grow sleepy -they make cocoons of chips and silk from -their own bodies, and go to sleep. After -they wake they are changed into winged -creatures, who naturally do not care to live -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>in the tree any more. So they gnaw their -way through the bark to the outside world -and——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not if the woodpeckers and I can help -it,” interrupted an ichneumon fly, keeping -her antennæ in constant motion. She seemed -to have long streamers floating from the back -of her, and, altogether, Ruth thought her -even queerer looking than the ensign fly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Those streamers are my ovipositor,” she -explained to Ruth. “The thing I lay eggs -with, you understand. When I shut them -together they form a sort of auger, with -which I bore into a tree, way, way in, where -the fat horntail babies are chewing the sap -wood, and so ruining the tree. Into their -soft bodies I lay my eggs and when my -children hatch they eat, not the tree, but the -horntail baby. It is a wonderfully good -riddance, and so the farmer and fruit grower -consider us their friends and call us ‘trackers,’ -because we find the hiding places of so many -pests that harm the plants.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>“You can’t get my babies,” said Mrs. -Saw Fly. “I haven’t a horn, but I have a -saw, and, though it will not bore into wood, -it saws fine gashes in green leaves. Of -course I drop an egg in each gash, and soon -there’s a swelling all around it, and when -my children hatch they rock in gall nut -cradles, and the sap which gathers there is -their food.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Talk about gall cradles,” said a gall -fly, “my sisters and I are the fairies who -make them to perfection. Each of us has -a different plant or tree which she prefers, -and each follows her own fashion in making -galls, and we puzzle even the wise men. -Have you ever seen the brown galls that grow -on oaks?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, of course,” answered Ruth, glad -the question was such an easy one.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well that’s something, but I doubt if -you have noticed the rosy coloured sponge -that sometimes grows around the stem, or -the mimic branch of currants drooping from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>the spot where the tree intended an acorn -to be, or the tiny red apple-like ball on the -leaf.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth shook her head. “They must be -very pretty,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Pretty? I should say so. They are all -different kinds of galls too, and we gall flies -make them. Sometimes we sting the leaf, -sometimes the twig, and sometimes the stem, -and always just the kind of cradle we intended -grows from it, and the egg we laid there -hatched into a baby grub, ready to eat the -sap.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then you know about the one on the -willow tree,” put in Ruth. “The one the -housefly told about. It grows like a pine -cone, and is made by some one with a dreadfully -long name.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That is something entirely different,” -answered the gall fly. “We do not pretend -to make all the galls, you understand. Some -are made by insects belonging to quite another -order. The willow tree cone is one. You -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>may always know ours from the fact that we -make no door for the babies to come out, as -other insects do. Our babies make their -own door when they are ready to leave their -cradle. And now to show how much is in -some names, I will tell you that those other -gall insects are called gall gnats and belong -to the order of flies, while we are called gall -<i>flies</i>, and belong to the order Hymenoptera.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh!” cried Ruth, clapping her hands. -“Now I know the kind of tera you belong -to, Hy-men-op-tera,” she repeated slowly. -“Please tell me just what it means.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, I won’t,” was the ungracious answer. -“I hate explanations.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’ll tell you,” said Mrs. Horntail. “I -know all about it.” And as Ruth turned to -her with grateful eyes she began:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Hymenoptera means membrane wing, and -that’s the kind we have, though some of -our order have no wings at all. The others -have four wings, the front pair being larger, -with a fold along the hind edge, that catches -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>on hooks on the front edge of the hind wings; -so we really seem to have but one pair. Do -you understand that?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes,” nodded Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Very well. We are divided into two sub-orders: -stingers and borers. Our larvæ are -called maggots. They are not like us, being -white grubs, with round horny heads, pointed -tails, six legs——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Here, here!” said the ichneumon fly, -“that does well enough for your children, -but you know perfectly well that the babies -of the rest of us have no legs.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, I know. Poor things! Legless children! -How sad! Mrs. Saw Fly and I are -the only exceptions.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And your children use their legs to no -good purpose either,” said the ichneumon fly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My children need no legs. They never -move from the spot where they are hatched -until after they transform. Why should -they? Their dinner is right there.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The same with mine,” added a little -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>bright-coloured brachnoid. “I choose a nice -fat caterpillar, or something like that, to -lay my eggs in, and he always lasts until -my babies are ready to spin their cocoons, -which they do on his shell, or dried skin, -or whatever you choose to call it. I know -he himself is quite gone. It is a pretty sight -to see them.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The brachnoid herself was a pretty little -thing and as she looked not unlike the ichneumon -fly, only smaller, Ruth asked Mrs. -Horntail if she were not a young ichneumon -fly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Young ichneumon?” repeated Mrs. Horntail. -“Whoever heard of such a thing? -A young ichneumon is as large as an old one. -None of us insects grow after we leave our -cocoons. When we are what you mean by -young—babies, in other words—we are -different. I thought you had learned that -before now. Haven’t you had larvæ and -pupæ explained to you?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, yes,” said Ruth, “but I had forgotten. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>Of course you are different when -you are first hatched, and then you get wings, -while you sleep, but I thought maybe you -grew even after you had wings.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Some of the grasshopper tribe do that, -and spiders are hatched little spiders and -grow bigger as they grow older, but we do -no such thing. Besides, as you heard a -while ago, an ichneumon baby is legless, -absolutely legless, and homely. Well, I think -the homeliest thing that lives, but then what -can you expect with such a mother?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I don’t think she is so awfully homely,” -said Ruth. “She is odd-looking, and—and——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Odd-looking?” repeated Mrs. Horntail. -“You should see her drilling a hole and laying -her eggs. If she doesn’t cut a figure, I don’t -know one. With her abdomen all in a hump, -her wings sticking straight up, and her antennæ -standing out in front, not to mention -the ridiculous loop she makes with the ovipositor, -she certainly is a sight.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>“But I find the horntail babies,” said the -ichneumon fly, quite undisturbed, “and that -is the important thing. I wonder if this -meeting is over?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I hope so,” answered Mrs. Horntail. -“It is not a proper meeting at all. If I -had the regulating of it, I would make some -of these creatures behave. See that ant on -the pebble over there. She is making faces, -actually making faces.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am not making faces,” answered the -ant. “I am getting ready to talk, and I -haven’t had a chance.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She was little and brown, and scarcely an -eighth of an inch long, but she looked quite -important as she prepared to address the -audience.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_170.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_171.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XI<br /> <span class='large'>WISE FRIENDS AND FIERY ONES</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>A was an ant, who seldom stood still,</div> - <div class='line'>And who made a nice nest in the side of a hill.</div> - <div class='line in34'>—<i>Edward Lear.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>“Sh!” said Ruth to the audience in -general, for she wanted very much -to hear what the ant had to say. -The ant looked at her approvingly, and then -said in a very solemn tone:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My friends, there are ants and ants.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Who doesn’t know that?” snapped Mrs. -Horntail.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span> -<img src='images/i_172.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘MY FRIENDS, THERE ARE ANTS AND ANTS’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>“Yes, there are ants and ants,” repeated -the speaker, not noticing the interruption. -“There is the carpenter ant, for one. In -the books she is called Componotis Pennsylvanicus, -but never mind the name. It -doesn’t seem to hurt her. She makes her -nest in the trunks of trees, old buildings, -logs, and places of that kind. You can see -her on the leaf by Mrs. Saw Fly. She is -large and black and——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Clean,” finished the carpenter ant, speaking -for herself, and, without asking further -permission, she poised on her hind legs and -began to ply her tongue, and the fine and -coarse combs on her fore legs, until she had -gone over her whole body, smoothing out -ruffled hairs, and getting rid of every atom -of soil. Her toilet done, she gave a few leisurely -strokes, then drew her fore legs through -her mouth to clean the combs, and stretched -herself with an air of satisfaction.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I hope I haven’t interrupted the proceedings,” -she said, “but if I am not clean I -am miserable. Now, Miss Lassius Brunens, -please go on.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span> -<img src='images/i_174.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘THEN THERE ARE ANTS WHO KEEP SLAVES’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“Miss who?” asked the little brown ant. -“Oh, I see. You are calling me by the -name the wise men give me. Well, I can -stand it. To continue: I have mentioned -the carpenter ant, and there are also the -mound builders. Everybody knows their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>big hills. Then there are ants who keep -slaves, and live under stones, and there are -honey ants, who live in the South and use -the abdomens of their own sisters to store -honey in, and there are ants who sow seed -and harvest it, and -ants who cut pieces -from green leaves -and carry them as -parasols, and soldier -ants and——”</p> - -<div class='figright id005'> -<img src='images/i_175.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘THEN THERE ARE ANTS WHO CUT PIECES FROM GREEN LEAVES AND CARRY THEM AS PARASOLS’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, give us a -rest!” broke in Mrs. -Horntail. “I am -tired of ants.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Jealous, you -mean,” said the little -brown ant, “because -you are not as wise as we are. Maybe you -don’t know that whole books have been -written about us and our clever doings. -And men have spent years and years trying -to study our ways. Now my family may -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>not be the most wonderful, but I think -it is the best known. We are the little -ants who make the hill with a hole in the -middle, which you so often see on sandy -paths, or roadsides, or in dry fields.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth had edged closer, and was listening -eagerly. Once more the little ant looked at -her approvingly, then went on:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Some people think our houses are queer, -because they are dark. Of course we have -no windows, only a door, and that is a hole -in the roof. We like it so though, and you -might be surprised if you could see our many -wonderful galleries and chambers. We made -them all too. Dug them out of the earth, -with our feet, throwing the soil out behind us, -until the burrow grew too deep. Then we -had to take it out grain by grain. We made -our pillars and supports also, using damp -earth for mortar. We don’t mind work, -but we <i>do</i> mind human giants carelessly putting -their feet in the middle of our hill and -breaking in upon our private life. Those -accidents will happen though, and our first -thought is always the babies. They have no -legs, and we have no hands, so we take them -in our jaws, and speed away with them to -our underground chambers, where they will -be safe. I have seen human babies carried -when they <i>did</i> have legs. There is no excuse -for that.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span> -<img src='images/i_177.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>THE HOUSE OF THE MOUND-BUILDER ANT</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>“Another thing, I know better than to -call a human baby an egg, but, would you -believe me, there are lots of people who think -our babies are eggs. I have heard them -called so. Now the reason we are so careful -of our babies is because if there were no -babies there would be no ants, and that -brings me to the queen, for without her there -would be no babies, because there would be -no eggs, and babies always begin by being -eggs. Only the queen lays eggs, remember -that. She is important for this reason, and -no other. She is not our ruler, as some -suppose. In fact, we have no ruler. Ants -do as they please, but they usually please -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>to do what is best for the whole community. -We have many queens, but they are not -jealous of each other, as the bee queens -are. They do not look like us workers. -They are ever so much larger, and were -hatched with wings. The males also have -wings, but it really matters very little what -they have. They are such a weakly set, and -after they go abroad with the queens, when -they take the one flight of their lives, they -usually die, or something eats them, and so -they are settled. It is the queens who interest -us. Some of them we never see again. They -go off somewhere and start new colonies, or -something may eat them too, but those that -come back either unhook their wings, or -we do it for them. Then they settle down -and begin to lay eggs. Their egg laying is -not after the fashion of bee queens, who go -to certain cells and leave eggs in them. The -ants drop their eggs as they walk around.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Don’t they get lost?” asked Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, indeed. Workers follow and pick -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>up every one. They take good care of those -precious eggs, too, and when they hatch -into helpless grubs, without wings or feet, -our work begins in earnest. Every morning -we carry them into the sunshine, and bring -them down again at night. We fondle them -too, and keep them clean by licking them -all over. Then of course they must be -fed, and, like other babies, they prefer -milk.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And I know where you get the milk!” -cried Ruth, all excitement. “It is from the -aphides, isn’t it? The cicada told me. The -aphides are his cousins. He doesn’t think -so much of them, but he says you do.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, why shouldn’t we? They give us -the most delicious milk. We have a fine -herd of aphides now pasturing on a stalk of -sweetbrier, and when Winter comes we will -keep their eggs down in our nest, and put -them on the sweetbrier in the Spring, so that -the little aphides which hatch from them will -have plenty to eat. Yes, and we may even -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>build tiny sheds for them to keep their enemies -from reaching them.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I wonder if you intend to talk all day?” -broke in a sharp voice. “I sha’n’t wait another -minute.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was not Mrs. Horntail, as Ruth thought -at first, but Madame Vespa Maculata, or, -in plain English, the white-faced hornet, -and, as she was a fiery lady, no one disputed -her when she said:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am the largest and most distinguished -of my family, and I build a nest whose delicacy -and beauty make it a wonderful piece of -insect architecture. It is proper that I should -speak first, and I will speak right now.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Speak, by all means,” said the little ant. -“I have quite finished.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then move,” answered Vespa; “I need -space.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The whole audience gave it to her, including -Ruth, who did not edge up close, as she -did to the other speakers.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is this way,” she whispered to Belinda. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>“Those sharp -people are very -interesting, but it -is better not to get -too near until you -know them quite -well.”</p> - -<div class='figleft id005'> -<img src='images/i_182.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“VESPA MACULATA”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“I suppose,” Madame -Vespa was saying, -“I suppose we wasps -can scarcely be called -general favourites. We -have a sting, you see, but, -my friends, that was intended -for laying eggs, and if -we use it on people it is -because they meddle in our -business. It is our way. We <i>will</i> sting those -who bother us. Now, in our community—for -we are social wasps—the female is unquestionably -the better half. We have our rights -and we insist on them. My mate was a good-for-nothing -fellow, like the rest of them. I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>didn’t marry him until Fall, and he soon left -me, and did nothing but perch around in the -sunshine with others like him, and I had -all the hard work of the home. Finally he -died. I suppose he couldn’t help that, but -I doubt if he would have made an effort -anyhow. Well, reproaches are of no use -now, for he is very much dead by this time. -I have had a whole Winter’s sleep since I saw -him last. We queen wasps always sleep in -Winter. We are the only ones of the colony -who do not die when cold weather comes. -You see, our community is not like the bees. -It lasts only for a Summer, and each Spring -the queens wake up and start a new one. That -was what I did. I slept in the crevice of a -barn and left it full of plans. You can -imagine the task before me, but I was plucky -and soon chose a tree to suit me. My house -was made of paper, and I should like to say -right here that we wasps are the first paper -makers in the world, for while Egypt still -traced her records in stone, or on the inner -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>bark of the papyrus, my ancestors were -manufacturing paper, that man has finally -learned to make in the same way. For -paper is only vegetable fibre reduced to a -pulp and pressed into sheets.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth’s eyes were wide with astonishment, -and she was edging nearer to Madame -Vespa.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Can you really make paper out of wood?” -she asked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course. See my jaws? They are -made to chew wood. Not decayed wood -either. That may do for wasps who live -under ground, for the brownish paper it -makes isn’t strong enough to stand exposure. -I choose good wood, and I make fine gray -paper.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I wish you would tell me how you do it,” -begged Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, I simply gnaw the wood with my -powerful jaws, and chew it until it is a pulpy -mass, then I spread it in a sheet, wherever -I wish it, and smooth and pat it with my feet. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>See how flat they are? I have heard of -people beginning their houses at the cellar -and building up. I consider that perfectly -ridiculous. I always begin at the top. -First, I make a slender stem or support -to fasten the nest to the tree. Then I make -three or more six-sided cells, which I hang -from the support, and lay an egg in each, -fastening it in with glue, for the open side -of the cell is down. After this I enclose -my cells with a wall of paper, and by -this time, I am glad to say, my children begin -to hatch, and though at first they look -like horrid little worms, who can’t help -themselves at all, I always know they -will grow like me soon, and do a great deal -of work.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Feeding them isn’t an easy job, I can -tell you, especially when it is added to my -other duties, but, after a while, each baby -weaves a little silken door over its cell, and -goes to sleep. When she wakes she is a -wasp, and the first thing she does is to wash -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>her face and polish her antennæ, nor is -it long before she gets to work. My first -children are always workers, and after a -number of them are hatched I can give my -whole time to laying eggs.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But when the nest is once done?” -began Ruth, who had forgotten her fear -entirely and was now quite close to Madame -Vespa.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The nest done?” repeated the fiery lady. -“You should know that our nest is never -done. New cells must be added, old walls -gnawed down, and fresh ones built up to -enclose larger combs. Indeed, we are never -idle. We ventilate as the bees do, and we -have sentinels too. Later in the season I -lay eggs that hatch out drones, and last of -all, the queen eggs. They are——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now you would think,” said a yellow -jacket, buzzing up excitedly, “you would -really think that Vespa might mention the -fact that other wasps exist, but not she. Now -I want to tell you, the white-faced hornet -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span><i>isn’t</i> the whole thing. There are yellow -jackets too.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We have eyes,” said Madame Vespa, -“but go ahead and talk, and get through, -for pity’s sake.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, I mean to talk, and I shall get -through when I please. We always insist -that people shall respect our rights, and -they generally do or—something happens. -Our nests are quite as remarkable as Vespa’s, -though we do not hang them from trees, as -she is in the habit of doing. Our cousin, -Mrs. Polistes, also makes a paper nest, but -she builds only a layer of cells, with not a -sign of a wall about them. Any one can -look right in on her private life.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’m quite willing they should,” spoke up -Mrs. Polistes, a long, slender brown wasp, -with a yellow line around her body. “I -could wall up my house if I wished to, but -I <i>don’t</i> and I <i>won’t</i>; so there.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They all have awful tempers, haven’t -they?” said Ruth to Mrs. Horntail.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>“Tempers?” repeated that lady. “They -are perfect pepper pots, though I must say -Mrs. Polistes isn’t usually as bad as the -others.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am talking,” called the yellow jacket, -“and the rest of the audience will please -keep still. As I was saying, though I doubt -if you all heard it, there are other members -of our family who have not been mentioned -yet. We have miners, masons, and carpenters -just like the bees. Of course they are solitary, -and——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I object!” interrupted Mrs. Muddauber. -“I won’t be bunched in with ever so many -others. I will speak for myself.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She was quite graceful, with a waist as -slender as a thread, but she jerked her wings -about in such a nervous and fidgety fashion -that Mrs. Horntail declared she must have -St. Vitus’s dance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I haven’t any such thing,” answered -Mrs. Muddauber, angrily. “I haven’t any -time to dance. I’m nervous, that’s all. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>Anybody would be nervous with all the work -I have to do, and my mate such a lazy fellow -that he never thinks of lending me a helping -mandible in making my home. He says he -doesn’t live very long, and wants to enjoy -himself while he can. Speaking of houses, -I don’t approve of paper ones. I always -make mine of mud. I’m a mason, you see. -I get one room finished, and lay an egg in -it. Then I go to market to get my baby’s -dinner.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But you haven’t any baby,” objected Mrs. -Horntail. “Your egg doesn’t hatch as soon -as it is laid, I know that.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What of it? The egg will be a baby sometime, -and the baby will be hungry. He will -not be a vegetarian either. He will want -meat. Juicy spiders are what he prefers, -and he likes them fresh. Now if I should -kill them they would be anything but -fresh when he is ready to eat them, so -I merely sting them until they are quite -paralyzed, then I put them in the room -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>with my egg and seal it up. I build a -number of cells with an egg and spiders -in each, but I am not a jug builder. -I have no time to fool after such silly -affairs as you sometimes see on twigs and -bushes.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She isn’t artistic enough, she had better -say,” remarked the little jug builder. “My -nests are wonderfully pretty. I have heard -many people say so. I am very careful to -give them a delicate shape. I line them -with silk too, but I will not tell you how I -make this silk. Even the wise men have not -discovered our secret.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Disagreeable creature!” remarked Mrs. -Horntail; “but then what can you expect -from a wasp of any kind? Now who <i>is</i> making -that dreadful noise? I shall certainly -be a wreck before I get away from this place. -People who buzz in such a fashion ought -certainly to be turned out. But there, what’s -the use of asking? I might know it could -only be——”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>“Sir Bumble Bee at your service.” And -a big fellow dressed all in black and gold -buzzed up before the angry Mrs. Horntail.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_191.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_192.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XII<br /> <span class='large'>THE HONEY MAKERS</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Gaily we fly, my fellows and I,</div> - <div class='line'>Seeking the honey our hives to supply.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>“I am an American,” he went on, in a voice -which all could hear. “A native of this -great and glorious country, and I have -a right to buzz, or make any noise I please. -Those little bees who make honeycomb are -foreigners—immigrants. Useful citizens, I -will grant, but still immigrants. Now, <i>my</i> -ancestors were here when Columbus discovered -America. Do you know that my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>name is Bombus, spelt with a big ‘B’? Now, -to show you how useful we bumble bees are, -I shall tell you a story. Once upon a time—are -you all listening?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am,” answered Ruth, quickly. “Please -go on.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, once upon a time there was no -red clover in Australia, and the farmers -of that country decided to take American -seed there and plant it. The first year the -crop grew finely. There were plenty of -flowers, but no seeds. Of course that was -bad, they needed seed for the next year’s -sowing. Well, once more they brought seed -from America, and once more the crop -grew finely, but not a seed came from it. -Then the people began to think, and after -a while they found out the trouble. They -hadn’t the American bumble bee and they -had to have him, for, my friends, we, only, -of all the bees, can fertilize the red clover -blossom, for only we have tongues long enough -to reach its nectar cups and the cell where -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>its precious pollen is hidden. You may not -think our tongue so long, because it is rolled -up when we are not using it, but look!” And -he unrolled a long brown tongue, which, in -a moment, seemed gone again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Gracious!” said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now do you wonder that we can reach -down into the red clover? When <i>we</i> went -to Australia the clover not only grew, but -set seeds too.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But,” questioned Ruth, “do different -flowers have different bees to come to them, -and how do you know?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, that’s just it. A voice within us -seems to whisper, ‘Go to the blossom whose -heart you can best reach, feed upon its honey -and take your fill of its golden dust.’ We -know it to be the law, and we obey, and, -even as we obey, the pollen clings to our -hairy bodies, and we bear it to the next -flower we visit. This is what usually happens, -but sometimes,” he added, as though -ashamed, “I must say, we break the law, and, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>finding a flower whose honey we cannot reach, -we use our tongues to cut a hole in the -spot where we know the nectar is hidden -and enter from the outside. Plainly speaking, -it is the way of the thief, getting our feast -without paying for it. For the bee who takes -it so carries away no pollen, and an honest -bee should never act so. Now perhaps -you would like to know how we bumble -bees began life? I am sure the little girl -would.” And Ruth nodded an emphatic -“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We do not live all Winter, as honey bees -do. Only a few queens sleep through the cold -months, and they do not need food; so while -we make a little honey to eat in Summer, -we do not lay by any stores for Winter, -and naturally we make no combs. What -looks like them are the silken cocoons our -babies spin. If I were a queen, I wouldn’t -be here. Queens have too much work to -do to be abroad in Summer. You may see -them in the early Spring flying about and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>hunting up good home sites. A hole under -a log is often chosen, and gathering nectar -and pollen the queen carries it to this underground -palace. In the mass she lays an egg, -then gathers more, in which she also lays an -egg. In this way her house is soon full. -When the eggs hatch, the babies eat the pollen -and nectar they find around them. I was -just such a baby, and, being a gentleman, I -haven’t much to do. I shall probably marry -a queen some day, but now I simply play in -the sunshine. We bumble bees belong to -the social branch of the family, but there are -many bees who live alone. They all follow -trades. There is the carpenter, who isn’t -furry like us, but black and shiny. She can -bore right into solid wood and make cells -for her eggs. Then there are the miners, -who burrow into the ground, and the masons, -who make nests out of grains of sand glued -together, or out of clay or mud. Some of -the carpenters line their nests with pieces -of leaves, which they cut out with their sharp -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>jaws. They have been called upholsterers -and they——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“This is all very interesting,” interrupted -a honey bee, “but really I must speak now. -I have so much to say, and my work is -waiting.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Talk, by all means,” answered Sir Bumble -Bee, gallantly. “I am a gentleman, and I -always yield to ladies.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank you, but I can’t call myself a -lady. I am just a worker honey bee. My -name is Apis Mellifica, but I do belong to a -wonderful family. I will admit that. We are -the greatest wax makers in the world. I -heard somebody once say that bees are always -in a hurry, while butterflies seem to take -their time. Now there’s a good reason -for that. Butterflies haven’t any work to -do. They do not even see their children, and -never take care of them, while bees have -thousands of babies to feed and look after. -Then you must know we clean house every -day, for we are extremely neat housekeepers. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>We clean ourselves also, and we have combs -and brushes for that purpose.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The words combs and brushes seemed to -have quite an effect on the bees and ants -in the audience, and many began to make -their toilets, Miss Apis among them. They -looked so very funny that Ruth laughed outright, -but she quickly settled down to listen, -as Miss Apis, feeling herself quite clean, -said briskly:</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span> -<img src='images/i_199.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>THE QUEEN BEE AND HER BODYGUARD OF DRONES</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“Now I will tell a story. Once upon a -time there was a large hive under an apple -tree. A hedge sheltered it from the wind, -and the tree shaded it from the sun, which -made it very pleasant for the family who -lived there. It was a very large family, -for there were thousands and thousands of -members, but they lived together in peace, -each doing her own share of work. Of -course there was a queen. She had a long, -slender body and short wings. This did not -matter, for she had only flown from the hive -once, and then she had a bodyguard of -drones. Maybe you think that because she -was a queen she had nothing to do. It is -true, she was not obliged to gather honey, -make wax, clean house, nurse the children, -or anything of that sort, but she was kept -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>busy laying eggs. She laid thousands every -day.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth opened her eyes wide. “Think of -it, Belinda!” she said. “Thousands of eggs -a day! Just suppose she was a hen.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She is something far more important,” -answered Miss Apis, “and her eggs are of -much more consequence. Besides the queen -there were drones and workers in this big -family. The drones did no work at all, -though they were large and thick-bodied. -Indeed, all they seemed fit for was to fly with -the queen when she took her one trip abroad, -and to eat what the workers gathered.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“See here!” said a drone from the back of -the assembly. “I am getting tired of being -called lazy. I should like to say right here -that we drones haven’t any honey sac nor -any pollen baskets, not even a pollen brush, -like Mrs. Carpenter Bee, so how can we -gather pollen or honey? Besides, we haven’t -any sting to defend ourselves with.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We will not argue the point,” said Miss -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>Apis, “but go on to the workers, who formed -the largest part of the colony. They were -hatched to work, and they were willing to -work until they died. They had strong wings, -lots of eyes, and three stomach sacs.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, I can’t see any use in so many -stomachs,” said Mrs. Horntail, and Ruth -agreed with her, though she did not say so.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You would if you were a bee,” said Miss -Apis, mildly. “You see, or maybe you don’t, -that eating honey, and just swallowing it, -are two different things. When a bee just -swallows honey it passes through the strainer, -or fine hairs, in the first sac, so that every -speck of pollen may be taken out, and into the -second one, where it remains until the bee is -ready to unswallow it in the hive. But when -a bee wishes to eat this honey it passes on -into the third sac, or the real stomach, and -is digested.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, I am sorry I spoke,” said Mrs. -Horntail, “for I certainly do not enjoy these -details.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>“I can’t help that,” answered Miss Apis, -undisturbed, “I am telling facts. Not only -had these workers three stomach sacs, but -they also had pollen baskets on their hind -legs, for it is from the pollen gathered in the -flowers and mixed with honey and water -that the bee bread fed to the baby bees is -made. Not all the workers gathered honey, -though. Some made wax and built combs, -and this was a very hard job, for they were -obliged to hang from the ceiling and pick -wax from the under side of their bodies, then -chew it and plaster it to the walls. This -wax is in eight scales, or pockets, on the under -side of the worker bee’s body, and it is made -by what she eats. When the pockets of one -bee were emptied, the next one took her place, -and when the lump on the side of the wall -was large enough another set of bees formed -it into cells. Of course you know that the -cells in a beehive are always six-sided. That -is because six-sided cells use all the space, -and are also strongest. At least the wise -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>men say that is probably the reason why -we make them so, and they think they know. -Other of the workers took care of the babies. -They fed them and kept them clean, and -some aired the hive.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth’s eyes were big with questions. Miss -Apis saw and continued:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They did this by moving their wings -rapidly as if they were flying, and when -many did it at the same time the good air -was driven around the hive and the bad air -out. Then, of course, there had to be sentinels -to speak to every bee who passed in, and make -sure she had the right to enter, for human -people are not our only robbers. There -are flies that look much like us, but ask them -to show their pollen baskets, and they can’t -do it. Now it happened one Spring in the -hive I am telling you about that the queen -heard a sound that she didn’t like at all. -It was a thin piping, and it came from one -of the brood cells, which is the nursery of -the hive.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>“‘It sounds like a young queen,’ she said, -‘but I have laid no queen eggs.’ The workers -stopped their tasks long enough to talk about -it. They knew perfectly well that it was a -young queen, and they also knew how she -happened to be there, even though the old -queen had laid no eggs in the cells on the -edge of the comb meant for queen eggs. -The old queen did not wish another royal -lady, but the workers knew that if anything -happened to the old queen there would be -none to take her place, and such a thing -must not be allowed. So they had taken -down two waxen walls between three small -brood cells, where a worker egg lay, and so -made it into a royal cell. They bit away the -wax with their jaws, and pressed the rough -edges into shape with their feet, and when -the egg within hatched, instead of feeding -the baby with flower dust and honey and -water, as they would have done had they -intended it to grow into a worker, they fed -it royal jelly. And so after it had grown and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>spun a cocoon, within which it had lain for -sixteen days, it had become a young queen, -ready to leave her cell. But the workers -knew it would never do for her to come out -just yet, for she and the old queen would have -to fight, and one would surely die.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, how dreadful!” cried Ruth. “Why -should they?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Because only one queen may reign in a -hive.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘We will keep her in her cell a little -longer,’ the workers said to each other. And -they built a wall of wax over her door, leaving -only a hole large enough for her to thrust -out her tongue so that they might feed her. -But though she couldn’t get out, she could -complain.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I should have complained too,” said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well this young queen complained in -earnest, and the old queen heard her, and -of course she tried to get to the cell of this -pert young one, and settle her for all time. -This the workers would not allow. They -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>would not touch their old queen, but they -formed a bodyguard about the cell of the new -one, and so protected her.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Well,’ said the old queen at last, ‘I -can’t stand this. I will not stay here. I -shall take my friends with me and fly away -to a place where only I shall be queen.’”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She grew more and more excited, as time -passed, and, as many of the workers were -excited too, the hive was in much confusion.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘We are much too crowded,’ said some -of the workers.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘I can’t seem to settle down to work,’ -answered others. ‘What can you expect when -thousands of children are added to a family -in a week? The time comes when the house -must be made larger, or some of the members -must move.’”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘We will <i>move</i>,’ said the old queen in a -tone of decision. ‘We will move right now. -Those who are my friends, come. The others -may stay with the piping thing in yonder -cell.’”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>“And without further words, the old queen -flew away, followed by a great many workers.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now I know what swarming means!” -cried Ruth. “I used to wonder about it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Miss Apis nodded.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“When the swarm was well away, the -workers who were left in the hive hastened to -let out the new queen.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She must have been glad,” said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Very likely,” agreed Miss Apis. “She -began her reign with a flying trip into the -world with the drones. But after this, she -came back to the hive, and settled down to -the business of egg-laying. Of course the -workers took up the same old tasks, for whatever -happens, workers will work. That is -why they have no love for the drones, and -when Winter comes they drive these lazy -ones from the hive.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I think I feel a little bit sorry for the -drones,” said Ruth, “if they can’t help being -lazy, as that drone said a while ago.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, it is our way,” answered Miss -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>Apis. “Only those who have worked in -the Summer have a right to eat in the Winter. -Now my work is calling me, and I must -leave. This story of one hive is true of all. -I hope you have enjoyed it, and so good-by.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There, she is finished at last,” said Mrs. -Horntail. “I think this whole meeting has -been most tiresome.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But Ruth did not agree with her.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_208.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_209.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIII<br /> <span class='large'>THE MOST BEAUTIFUL OF ALL</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Lo! the bright train their radiant wings unfurl.</div> - <div class='line in38'>—<i>Anna L. Barbauld.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>“It seems nothing but butterflies!” cried -Ruth, running out into the garden as -soon as breakfast was over.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course,” answered a voice, “the Lepidoptera -will meet by the summer-house.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Does that mean butterflies? And oh, -please, may I come?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, to both questions,” was wafted back -from the beautiful creature flitting so gracefully -on the light warm breeze.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Just like a flower with wings,” thought -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>Ruth as, holding Belinda closely, she followed -as fast as she could go.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Indeed, they all seemed like flowers with -wings, she decided, as she came into the middle -of the gathering.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is the most beautiful we have been to -yet,” she whispered to Belinda, “and I am -sure it is going to be the most interesting. -I couldn’t begin to count them.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth might well say this, for nearly all -the fifty-four families of moths to be found -in America north of Mexico were represented -by at least one member, while there were -many from the four families of butterflies -and the two families of skippers.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth came only just in time, for already -one of the moths had begun to speak. He -was a handsome fellow, with fore wings in -different shades of olive.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My friends,” he said, “I am called the -modest sphinx, and, that being the case, you -may imagine how painful it is for me to put -myself forward in this way. I have been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>asked, however, to give you a few general -facts. Why I am expected to know these -facts is, perhaps, because, being a sphinx, -I should also be wise. Yet I am not the only -sphinx here, and, if I remember aright, the -old and historic sphinx <i>asked</i>, rather than -<i>answered</i>, questions.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“He uses awfully big words,” Ruth whispered -to her usual confidant, Belinda.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now to begin,” went on the sphinx, -“you know, I suppose, that we belong -to the order Lepidoptera, which means the -scale wings, because the colour of our wings -is made by scales so tiny that they are really -like dust. We are divided into moths, butterflies, -and skippers, and all of us are messengers -for the flowers, carrying the precious -pollen from blossom to blossom. Our children -are generally enemies to the plants. -They are called caterpillars, and seem to -have a great many legs, but really only six -of them are true legs and remain when the -youngster is full grown. The others are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>prolegs. There may be two or there may be -ten. They help in walking, but are shed -with the last skin.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Alas!” sighed a voice in the corner. -“I haven’t any to shed—that is, in the -middle of my body.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth turned as Mr. Looper, otherwise -known as the measuring worm, made this -remark. She would have asked a question, -for Mr. Looper, rearing his head after his -own queer fashion, seemed quite ready to -talk, but the sphinx stopped her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“This is not the time to talk about individual -legs,” he said. “We are trying to get -at general differences. Now there are certain -ways in which all moths differ from all -butterflies.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I should say so,” said Miss Papilio, a -handsome tiger swallowtail. “Moths have -short, stout bodies, and ours are slender.” -And Miss Papilio circled above them so that -all might admire her delicate body and the -beauty of her tawny yellow wings, with their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>gray bands and stripes, and their ends pointed -in true swallowtail fashion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And here is another difference,” she added, -coming to rest with her wings folded together -vertically. “We always carry our wings so -when we are not flying. You moths hold -yours horizontally, or sloping. Never upward.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, that’s true,” said the sphinx, “and -you know we generally have beautiful feathery -antennæ, though I, and a few others, -are an exception to that rule, but you butterflies -can boast only very thread-like antennæ, -with a knob at the end.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Enough about that subject,” spoke up -Miss Papilio. “What I am wondering about -is why moths like to fly at night, or in the -twilight. Now, butterflies must have sunshine.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We love the cool, soft night, I can’t -tell you why,” answered the sphinx, “and -we sleep through the noisy day.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But it is so dangerous to sleep as you do, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>when birds and other nuisances are up and -doing.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, birds are pests, there is no doubt -about it, and if it hadn’t been for them we -insects would have possessed the earth long -ago, but you forget, we always choose a place -that is nearly the colour of ourselves, and we -look so much like our surroundings that it -would take a sharp eye to find us. We are -not brightly coloured, as a rule, like the butterflies, -or if we wear gay colours at all it is usually -on our hind wings, which we hide under the -fore wings. Now the general remarks being -made, the audience may view the exhibits -and hear their individual histories.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth was up in a second.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I must talk to that funny measuring -worm,” she said to herself. “Why, where -is he?” she added, standing before the bush -on which she had seen him a while before.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Right here,” answered what Ruth thought -was a twig, and which proved to be none other -than Mr. Looper himself, who raised his head -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>and began to walk on his hind legs in his own -eccentric fashion. Indeed, not only he, but -a number of other Mr. Loopers, all showing -themselves in different positions.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_215.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘SMART CHILDREN, AREN’T THEY?’ ASKED SOME MOTHS”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“Smart children, aren’t they?” asked some -moths, variously coloured in black and brown -and yellow, hovering above the tree where -the loopers were feeding. “They are ours—that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>is, not exactly ours, but ours will -be like them when they are hatched. These -fellows will soon make little cradles of leaves -and go into the ground to go to sleep, and -when they come out they will be like us. -Wonderful, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes,” agreed Ruth, “but I’d like to know -about their legs.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I can explain that,” said Mr. Looper -quickly. “I have no legs in the middle of -my body, and as that part of me isn’t supported, -I can’t walk like other caterpillars, for -I <i>am</i> a caterpillar, even if they <i>do</i> call me a -worm.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The legs, or the want of them, is a fault -of his ancestors no doubt,” interrupted a -voice. “Probably they walked in his idiotic -fashion for fun, or to be different, even when -they did have the right number of legs, and -so lost the use of them, and the legs, too, -finally. That often happens. I could tell -you of cases——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, you look something like Miss Papilio,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>said Ruth, turning to the last speaker, -and interrupting her reminiscences.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am a Miss Papilio,” was the answer, -“but not the one you heard a while ago. -She was a tiger swallowtail, while I am a -black swallowtail, different, but quite as -handsome in my way. We swallowtails all -believe in dressing well. We are butterflies, -not moths, but though I am so beautiful, -I serve some very humble plants. I carry -the precious pollen for them. My children, -I’m afraid, will not be so helpful, but what -can one do? I happen to like honey, but -they prefer the leaves of parsley, carrot, -celery, and such things. They have large -appetites, too.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Everything seems to have an appetite,” -said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, my children will be able to eat, I -can tell you. See, I have laid my eggs on -this bed of parsley. Ah! there’s a larva -now. Not mine, but mine will be like it. -See, he is green, ringed with black and yellow. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>If you tease him he will stick out his yellow -horns at you, and you won’t like the odour -either. Would you believe I was once like -that, and I slept in a pupa case like the one -under the twig there? You know there always -comes a time in the life of every caterpillar, -if he lives long enough of course, when -he stops eating for good and wants nothing -so much as to sleep. That came to me, and -I crawled from the parsley bed to an old rail -fence and began to spin. The silk was in -my body, and it came through two tubes in -my lower lip.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That isn’t the way spiders spin,” said -Ruth. “They——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I was not a spider,” said Miss Papilio. -“I was a caterpillar, and they always spin -with their mouths. So that is what I did, -and before long I had lashed myself securely -to the fence by strong silken loops. Then I -shed my pretty suit, and my skin shrivelled -until it was a hard case. In that safe cradle -I went to sleep, and came out in the Spring -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>with six legs instead of sixteen, a slender -tongue in place of sharp, hungry jaws, and, -best of all, four beautiful wings. Oh, the -joy of sailing through wonderful space, and -sipping nectar from the sweetest flowers!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We have all felt that way,” said a large -red-brown butterfly, whose wings, lighter -below, were veined and bordered by black, -with a double row of white spots on the edges. -“Look at the chrysalis from which I came, and -say no more. Can you guess my name?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth was obliged to confess that she could -not.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I have often seen you though,” she added, -“or butterflies just like you.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Probably you have. I am called the -monarch, and, frail as I look, I can fly -hundreds of miles without resting. I was -just laying some eggs on this milkweed, and -since you are here, you might use your eyes a -little. You may see something worth while.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth was using her eyes as best she could, -and soon she spied a number of caterpillars -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>chewing away upon the milkweed leaves. -They were lemon or greenish-yellow, banded -with black.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Will they grow into butterflies like you?” -she asked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes,” was the answer, “but there is something -more to see.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Again Ruth looked, and now saw what -appeared to be a little green jewel dotted -with golden nails.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh!” she cried, “how lovely!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I thought you would say that,” and -the monarch fluttered her wings proudly. -“That is our chrysalis, the cradle in which -we sleep for our great transformation. That -is one thing the viceroy can’t do, though she -mimics us as much as possible.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mimics you?” repeated Ruth, in surprise.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, certainly. You see we monarchs -are wrapped in a magic perfume—that no -birds like, and so they never try to eat us. -Now, Mrs. Viceroy hasn’t this perfume, -and to protect herself she tries to imitate -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>our family colours, so that the birds, mistaking -her for one of us, may leave her alone too. -She even flies as we do. See her over there? -She is smaller than I am, but quite like me, -except for the black line on her hind wings. -A careless observer would scarcely notice -that, however.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The monarch floated off to lay some more -eggs, and Ruth found herself in the midst of -ever so many tawny brown butterflies, all -bordered and checkered with black, and -having wings covered with silver spots.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, you are so lovely!” she cried, with -shining eyes, and then, as they passed on, -calling back their name, “Fritillaries!” “Fritillaries!” -she turned to see many other dazzling -creatures fluttering about her. Some -she had never seen before, but others were -like old friends. There were the meadow -browns, the stout-bodied coppers, the slender, -beautiful blues, and more white cabbage -butterflies than she could count. The handsome -red admiral flirted with the pretty -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>painted lady, and the mourning cloaks, with -their purple-brown wings, yellow-bordered -and marked with light blue spots, were flitting -about, telling everybody how they had slept -all Winter as butterflies, which is most uncommon -in the butterfly world, and were -for that reason the first to show themselves -in the Spring.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I used to wonder why you were out so -early,” said Ruth, “and once I found one -of you in a crevice on a Winter day, and I -couldn’t understand about it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, you do now. We hibernate like -many animals.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But you must have been eggs in the -beginning,” said Ruth. “The oil beetle told -me that all insects begin as eggs. And will -you please tell me how a butterfly knows the -right kind of plant to lay her eggs on? It -always seems to be just the one her caterpillars -like to eat. She doesn’t eat it herself.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course not,” answered one of the -mourning cloaks. “You need but look at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>out tongues to see that we eat only honey. -I can’t answer your question, for none of us -knows. Something tells us the proper plant -for our eggs. We lay them there without -hesitation, and we lay a great many. This -is necessary, for one never knows what -may happen. Most of them may make a -meal for something before they even hatch -into caterpillars, and if some miss this fate, -and do hatch, there are any number of birds, -and their enemies, who like nothing so well -as a fat, juicy caterpillar for dinner. Then -if that danger is escaped, there are the birds -again, and other hungry things, all anxious -to get a taste of the butterfly. So you can -understand that in a life so full of accidents it -is important to have many eggs to begin with.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes,” said Ruth, “but——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She didn’t finish, for just then she put her -hand on what she thought was a leaf, and, much -to her surprise, she found that it was alive.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span></div> -<div class='chapter'> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_224.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIV<br /> <span class='large'>REAL FAIRIES</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>or the possible glory that underlies</div> - <div class='line'>The passing phase of the meanest things.</div> - <div class='line in34'><i>Mrs. Whitney.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c011'>Alive it certainly was, this exquisite -green moth, which rose on shimmering -wings at Ruth’s touch. No wonder -Ruth almost screamed aloud in her surprised -delight.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Are you a moonbeam?” she asked. “You -are just lovely enough for one.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, I am not a moonbeam,” was the -answer, “<i>but I am the moon moth, the -Luna</i>. I am a messenger for the night-blooming -flowers, for only the long tongues -of the moths may reach through the deep -tubes to their honeyed hearts. I was taking -my day nap when you touched me.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id003'> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span> -<img src='images/i_225.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic002'> -<p>“‘I AM THE MOON MOTH, THE LUNA’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>“I didn’t know you were there,” said -Ruth, “you looked so much like a leaf.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That is what I wished to look like. -Many others are sleeping the same way. -You wouldn’t know them unless they moved. -Our larvæ are not sleeping, however. I -can answer for that. They are quite awake -and busy eating the leaves of hickory, walnut, -and other trees of that family. Maybe you -have seen them? They are large and handsome, -and they spin very snug cocoons of -silk, wrapped about with a dead leaf, very -much like those made by the polyphemus -babies.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now you know your cocoon never had -the quantity of silk in it that mine had,” -said a yellowish-brown moth, rising from the -trunk of a nearby tree.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She was very handsome. There were window-like -spots on her wings, and dusky bands -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>edged with pink. Not far away were her -larvæ, having a good time chewing the leaves -of a plumb tree. They were light green, with -an oblique yellow line on each side, and a -purplish-brown V-shaped mark near the end -of their bodies.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You may always know the polyphemus -children by that mark,” said Mrs. Polyphemus, -for it was she who had interrupted the -Luna’s remarks. “Now, speaking of cocoons,” -she went on, “as I said before, ours -contain a great deal of silk. They have been -used in the making of silk too. Shall I tell -you my story?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Of course Ruth wanted to hear it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Very well,” said Mrs. Polyphemus. “I -belong to the family of giant silkworms, -though, of course, we are not worms. I -began my life on an elm leaf. It was a lovely -morning in May when I was hatched, and -the world seemed a beautiful place to live -in. I did not spend much time admiring -the scenery, though, for I was hungry. I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>ate the shell of my egg for the first course, -then I began to chew elm leaves, and I kept -it up steadily. Naturally I grew, and I -changed my skin five times. When I was -ready to make my cocoon I found a twig on -the ground among the dead leaves, and spun -a fluffy mass of gray-white silk all about it, -and this wrapped in a dead leaf——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What?” interrupted Mrs. Cecropia, “spin -your cocoon on the ground? What a careless -habit. Why not fasten it to the twig -of a tree or——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Inside a curled leaf?” added Mrs. Promethea. -“That is the safest way. The wind -will rock it and——,”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I said nothing about curled leaves,” -answered Mrs. Cecropia. “I never use a -curled leaf. I leave that for the leaf rollers. -I——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, I know swinging would make me -ill,” declared Mrs. Polyphemus, “and I prefer -the ground for my cocoon.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Quite right,” agreed Mrs. Hummingbird -<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>Moth. “The ground for me, too. Our -children always go down and——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Gracious! you don’t suppose my children -would go down in the ground?” asked Mrs. -Polyphemus. “No, indeed; they will sleep -in their cocoons, among the fallen leaves on -top. It is snug and cozy too, this cocoon, -or it will be, I should rather say, for it isn’t -made yet. I remember mine though. A -mass of coarse silk first, and a coating of -varnish inside, then more silk, and another -coating of varnish. I slept soundly, I can -tell you, and when I awoke in the Spring -I had only to send from my body a milky -fluid, which softened the varnish and silk, -until a doorway was made for me to come -out of. I felt very weak, miserable, and -forlorn just at first. I had but six legs, -and my wings seemed of no use whatever, -but after I had hung a while to a twig, and -my wings had grown dry and strong, I was -a different being. My body was lighter -and smaller too. Do you know why?”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>The question came suddenly, and Ruth, -though she had been listening intently, could -think of no answer.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Because the fluids from it were pumped -into my wings,” said Mrs. Polyphemus. -“The next time you see a moth just out of -its cocoon, hanging by its feet and waving -its wings to and fro, you may know it is pumping -fluids into them, so they may grow big -and strong. You may see many wonderful -things if you only keep your eyes open. -Well, to go back to my story: After my wings -were strong, I could fly and be as happy as -I pleased. Now it is time for me to lay my -eggs.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I wondered if you ever meant to stop -talking,” said Mrs. Promethea. “There are -others, you know. I really can’t see how you -Polyphemuses grow up, considering the careless -way your cocoons lie about on the -ground. Perhaps the people who say that -caterpillar children are not cared for have -you in mind. Generally I believe it is better -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>for children to help themselves. You never -hear caterpillars say, ‘I can’t do this, and will -some one please help me to change my skin, -or some one spin my cocoon for me?’ No, -they do these things for themselves, and ask -no advice about them either. Still I do believe -one can’t be too careful about cocoons, -for once you are in one and asleep you can’t -defend yourself. It is much better to make -them safe to begin with. That was what I -thought when I made mine. I enclosed it -in a leaf, and then to make sure the leaf -wouldn’t fall in the Winter winds, I fastened -it to a branch of the tree with a thread of -silk. No wind or anything else could break -that thread. It was so strong. Just try -it,” she added to Ruth, “the next time you -find a Promethean cocoon. You will probably -see a number together, but all will have -the same strong fastenings. Another thing, -I didn’t have to make a hole to get out by, -as Mrs. Polyphemus told us she did. My -cocoon had a valve in the top, and I had only -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>to crawl through that. Talk about difference -in looks! My mate is so unlike me you would -think he belonged to another species. Our -children are very handsome. Fully two inches -long and blue-green in colour, not to mention -the row of lovely black knobs along their -bodies.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They can’t compare with ours,” said a -fine cecropia, settling on a branch and spreading -her beautiful wings.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She was very large and very handsome. -Her wings were grayish, with many markings -of white, brick-red, pink, and violet, and with -splendid eye spots on each.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We are the largest of the giant silkworms,” -she said, “and our larvæ are as handsome -in their way as we are in ours. You can see -them on the plum trees over there. They are -wearing their last suits, of course, for, like -all caterpillars, they eat so much they need -bigger skins every little while.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They <i>are</i> pretty for caterpillars,” agreed -Ruth, looking at the blue-green creatures, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>with their knobs of red, yellow, and blue, -all bearing black bristles.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They are pretty enough for <i>anything</i>,” -declared Mrs. Cecropia, with decision. “Our -cocoon is large and fine too. Indeed, everything -about us is first class. We never enclose -our cocoon in a leaf, though sometimes -a dead leaf may cling to the outside. We -spin it along a branch, to which it is securely -fastened. Some are larger and looser than -others, but all are beauties.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, <i>I</i> can’t boast of fine clothes,” said -a plainly dressed little moth, who was quietly -hiding on a shrub, “but I belong to a very -old family, and a very useful one. We -were known and appreciated in Asia more -than four thousand years ago. I, too, came -from a tiny egg. My body was black, covered -by stiff hairs, and of course I was hungry. -I liked best the leaf of the mulberry tree, and -I ate so much I had to change my dress often, -as all caterpillars do. They all get too big -for their skins, and that is what I did, but, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>finally, I lost my appetite, and I knew the -time had come for me to spin my silken cradle. -And now I may boast with good reason, for -I am the true silkworm. My cocoon is spun -in one thread a <i>quarter of a mile long</i>.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indeed!” said Mrs. Cecropia. “I should -like to know how you measured it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I haven’t measured it,” the silkworm -answered, “but the wise men have. Not -my particular cocoon, you understand, but -those of our family, and they are said to -average that. They are very pretty too, -these cocoons. I suppose you have all seen -them? I was nine days making mine, and -three days after that I cast off my baby -clothes and went to sleep. I was very weak -when I awoke and left my cocoon cradle, -but I soon grew stronger and could walk, for -you must know that the family to which I -belong is not in the habit of flying. Its -members are homebodies and seldom use -their wings. Many of us, I may say the -majority, do not live to be moths, for our -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>cocoons are so precious, because of the long -silk thread, that the larvæ are killed before -they come out.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why?” said Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Because when the larvæ come out they -break the thread. And now perhaps you -understand how very useful we are, for all -the silks, satins, ribbons, and velvets in the -world are made by us.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is a big boast, isn’t it?” said a very -small straw-coloured moth, flitting rapidly -about. “It is a true one, though. My children -make cocoons too, and I made one -myself, but it was quite unlike a silkworm’s, -and I have an idea we are not considered -useful either. I do not work among the -flowers. I belong to the Wool Exchange, at -least that is what somebody said about me -once. My eggs will not be laid on a plant, -or any growing thing. I shall choose carpet, -or fine cloth, or something of that sort, and -when my babies hatch they will gnaw away -<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>the fibres of the cloth, and eat and eat. Then -what they don’t eat they will use to cover -themselves with, binding the threads together -with silk from their own bodies.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I know you, anyway,” said Ruth. “You -ate my Winter dress full of holes. At least -it was some moths like you.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, my dear, not moths, but their caterpillar -babies did the eating.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, it wasn’t nice, whoever did it,” -declared Ruth, with some heat.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Nice?” repeated Mrs. Clothes Moth. -“I suppose it is nice to kill the silkworm -babies and make dresses from their cradles, -and nice to do a lot of other things that I -could mention. I guess you had better not -talk.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth was silent. She felt she had the -worst of the argument.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You must not mind,” whispered a large -and beautiful moth whose wings were of -many delicate shades of ash-gray marked with -black.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>Ruth turned to the speaker.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You are something like the sphinx moth,” -she said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes. I am a sphinx,” was the answer. -“All of us look somewhat alike, though some -are smaller than others, and colours vary. -But our wings are always clear cut, our scales -close fitting, and our colours quiet; a tailormade -air about us, as it were. We are sometimes -called hawk moths, because our wings -are narrow, long, and strong, and sometimes -hummingbird moths, because we fly -at twilight, and poise above a flower while -extracting its honey, just as hummingbirds -do.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But why are you named the sphinx?” -asked Ruth. “You haven’t told me that.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, you see, our larvæ have a queer -habit of rearing themselves up in front -and remaining in that position, and the -wise men thought they looked something -like the old Egyptian Sphinx. There’s a -sphinx moth caterpillar on that tomato vine.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>“He is awful fat and green,” said Ruth. -“Can you show me his cocoon?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Even the larva laughed when Ruth asked -this question.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dear, dear! what ignorance!” said the -moth. “Just put your hand in that soft -earth and take out what is there.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ruth obeyed, and presently brought up a -dark brown case, pointed at each end.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That is our pupa case,” explained the -moth, “and in it is wrought our wonderful -transformation. We do not weave cocoons, -but the little brown case holds the same miracle -of life and growth.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, there is just as much life and growth -under my old blanket as in any pupa case, -or cocoon, that was ever made.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The speaker was a hairy caterpillar, chestnut -brown in the middle, and black at each end.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That’s the woolly bear,” explained the -sphinx. “Just pick him up, and see what -will happen.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I know,” answered Ruth, but nevertheless -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>she took the little brown fellow in her -hand, whereupon he promptly curled up in a -tight ball and rolled to the ground.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I will do it every time,” said the caterpillar. -“I have been called the hedge hog -because of that cute trick.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It <i>is</i> cute,” agreed Ruth, “but what do -you mean by your blanket?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, as to that, I don’t fool after cocoons, -or pupa cases, or the rest of it. I simply -take off my hair when I am ready for my -long sleep, and make it into a blanket, which -covers me snugly.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But it is a cocoon just the same,” persisted -Ruth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, you may call it what you please, -I say it is a blanket. When I wake from my -sleep under it I am no longer a caterpillar, -but a moth.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Like me,” added a dull yellow moth, -spreading her black dotted wings. “I am -the Isabella, if you care to know.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So you see,” rejoined the woolly bear, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>“it really doesn’t matter whether it is a cocoon, -a pupa case, or a blanket which encloses -the glory of our transformation, the -marvel of it is just the same.”</p> - -<p class='c014'>Long after they had drifted by, that gay -company of butterflies and moths, Ruth sat -thinking of the wonder of it all.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Didn’t I tell you, Belinda,” she whispered, -“didn’t I tell you it was really living -in Fairyland, and now, when we can hear -what they say, and they tell us such interesting -things, it is more Fairyland than ever. -The Wind told us to watch and listen, and -we will do that. We will watch and listen -with all our might, for oh! Belinda, there is -such a lot to learn yet.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter id004'> -<img src='images/i_240.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='section ph2'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - - <ol class='ol_1 c003'> - <li>Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - - </li> - <li>Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - </li> - </ol> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Real Fairy Folk, by Louise Jamison - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REAL FAIRY FOLK *** - -***** This file should be named 63992-h.htm or 63992-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/9/9/63992/ - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, Mary Glenn Krause, Charlene -Taylor, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - -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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