book one

shall look at in order to see a picture of Poison Ivy. And then remember what it looks like. For the Poison Ivy family is a mean one.”

JULY 19: The Sun Fairies

“Mr. Sun slowly went behind a hill—but what should remain in the sky after he had left but wonderful spots and dots of red—bright, bright red—just the color Mr. Sun had been before he went behind his hill for his night’s sleep,” said daddy.

“‘They must be the Fairies of the Sun,’ said the Fairy Queen. And that is what they were!”

JULY 20: The Meadow Fritillary Family

“I must tell you this evening,” commenced daddy, “a story about the meadow fritillary family.”

“Oh, gracious, daddy!” exclaimed Jack. “Now really!”

“Well,” said Evelyn, “at least I understand it has something to do with a meadow, but it may be a flower, fruit, animal or bird for all I know.”

“None of those,” said daddy laughing. “Guess again.”

“Well, it might be the name of a big rock,” said Jack.

“Wrong,” said daddy. Both the children laughed and started to think of some other creatures and objects which might be in a meadow.

“Of course,” said Evelyn, “there are the meadow larks, but they are birds, and daddy said these fritillaries aren’t birds.” Evelyn had a very hard time calling them by their name and Jack said admiringly: “Well, Evelyn, I wouldn’t dare try that!”

“There are meadow crickets,” said Evelyn.

“Now, we’re coming a little bit closer,” said daddy.

“Oh, do tell us,” urged Jack.

“The meadow fritillaries,” said daddy, “are butterflies!”

“Gracious,” said Evelyn, “that’s a pretty hard name for a little butterfly to carry.”

“They have cousins named the Silver-Spot Fritillary family and the Gulf Fritillary family, but it is of the meadow ones I am going to tell you, and I think it would be easier for us to speak of them as the Meadow family and leave out their long last name.

“Mother Meadow had become a butterfly in June and after four weeks had gone by she laid her little eggs, and in another week there were little caterpillars. After that Mother Meadow knew there would be butterflies; and it would take a month for them to become chrysalides and another week for them to become full-fledged butterflies. So Mother Meadow was much excited.

“And after a time there would be more butterflies and she would be a grandmother, and still more and she would be a great-grandmother. All that would happen in a summer. And there would be still others but they wouldn’t become full-grown until another spring came around. They would stop feeding and sleep throughout the winter as many butterflies will do.

“The latest children of the Meadow Fritillary family in September feed upon the leaves of violets which they think are particularly delicious.

“When it gets cold ahead of time in the autumn the little half-grown butterflies go right to sleep and don’t bother about food, but when the next spring comes they make up for it and eat twice as much.

“Mother Meadow lives in the lowland meadows and near swamps. She loves a home near the spots where blue and white and purple violets grow, for she knows her children love the sweet leaves.

“The Meadow family also takes honey from mint and other plants that grow near the swamps.

“‘Our cousins,’ said Mother Meadow to her brood one day, ‘are very much like us except for the row of silver spots which line their wings. That is why they are called the Silver-Bordered Fritillary family. But we are nice brown speckled butterflies and are as happy as our handsome cousins.’

“‘Have we any more cousins?’ asked the Meadow children butterflies.

“‘Oh, yes,’ said Mother Meadow, ‘there are the Silver-Spot Fritillaries, the Great Spangled Fritillaries and the Regal Fritillaries as well as different kinds of the silver variety. But we are just as happy and contented as any of them, even if we are rather plain and dull and brown for butterflies.

“‘And, my children, you rested on violet leaves when you were little eggs. Some of you rested on the stems of the violet plants, but most of you were right on the beautiful green leaves.

“‘So though we’re rather simple little butterflies, we mothers gave you beds fit for princesses.’

“‘Ah, we’re happy,’ said the little butterflies, as they flew about in the warm summer sunshine.”

JULY 21: George and the Goblin

“A little boy named George,” said daddy, “was very ill. He had not told his mother he felt sick and wretched because he was afraid she might give him some horrid medicine, so he went to bed without saying a word.

“He felt as though he had been in bed for hours and as if he would never go to sleep when suddenly a little Goblin hopped on his window sill, peeped around the curtain, and said:

“‘Good evening. May I come in?’

“‘Who are you?’ asked George.

“‘I am the Goblin who looks after little sick boys—when they have your kind of sickness. The only trouble is that I can’t see half the little boys I want to—for I can only go at night-time when they’re sleeping, and there isn’t time for my rounds. I do believe I shall have to get some Assistant Workers,’ and the Goblin looked puzzled.

“‘You’re a Goblin?’ gasped George.

“‘To be sure,’ said the Goblin.

“‘Why,’ continued George, ‘I thought they were terrible looking creatures.’

“‘Ha, ha,’ laughed the Goblin. ‘You make just the same mistake that so many boys and girls do. You see I am not terrible at all. In fact, I am very nice and I cure little boys and girls of their pains.’

“‘Are you a Doctor Goblin, then?’ laughed George.

“‘No,’ smiled the Goblin. ‘Doctors and I really need have nothing to do with each other. Doctors should only be called in when little girls and boys are really, really sick and not when they’re only pretending.’

“‘I’m not pretending,’ said George, almost in tears. ‘I feel just as sick as can be.’

“‘Nothing to brag about, is it?’ asked the Goblin.

“‘No-o,’ said George.

“‘And why are you sick?’ asked the Goblin.

“‘I don’t know,’ said George. For surely, he thought to himself, the Goblin couldn’t know what he had been doing in the daytime—and George did know, perfectly well, why he was sick.

“‘Did you enjoy those candies?’ asked the Goblin, and George looked quite uneasy.

“‘I don’t know,’ said George.

“‘I suppose it is hard to make up your mind now whether you liked them or not—since they have made you sick.’

“‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ cried George, who had thought he was going to have fun with the Goblin, and he hid his head under the bedclothes in shame.

“‘You see,’ continued the Goblin, ‘you were getting into the habit of really making a little piggie of yourself! You were getting too fat and lazy. You didn’t like to play ball with the boys nearly so much as you once did. Isn’t that true?’ And George, who had stuck his head out of the bedclothes again, nodded.

“‘And some of the boys were beginning to call you “Roly-poly George,” weren’t they? And they were telling you that soon you’d be able to join the circus as the fat boy? It wasn’t very kind of them perhaps, but it was true, eh?’ And the Goblin grinned.

“‘Yes,’ was all George could say.

“‘And last of all, you ate that whole layer of chocolates in the box that was hidden in the pantry; you thought you were having a great feast. Until—until—until—’

“‘Oh I know,’ said George. ‘I felt dreadfully sick—but I’m better now. Don’t scold me any more, please.’

“‘I won’t,’ said the Goblin. ‘I visit little boys and girls like you because I know you don’t want to get sick—and half the time you don’t know that so many sweeties are very, very bad for you—and that you’ll grow fat and lazy and no one will care for you when it comes play time.’

“‘I’ll be good—and not a piggie any more!’ said George. ‘I did feel so sick—and I don’t want to be the fat boy in the circus. I want to stay at home and play with my friends!’

“‘And you will!’ said the Goblin. ‘To-morrow morning you’ll be all right—but first of all—to-night we’re going to take you for a sail in our airboat just to show you that Goblins are really nice creatures after all!’

“And several weeks later, George was so well and so strong and quick in the games that he was made Captain of his Baseball Team!”

JULY 22: Jack-in-the-Pulpit

“I am Jack-in-the-pulpit,” announced a wild flower one day.

“Are you?” asked the gnats and flies walking and flying about.

“I am indeed,” said Jack. “If you don’t believe me, you can have a look.”

“We are invited to have a look,” said the gnats to each other and the flies said: “We can call upon him, and he looks very fine, too.”

“In the spring,” said Jack, for he thought it was the correct thing to preach a little sermon as he was in a pulpit, “in the spring,” he continued, “I have many bright red berries. Years and years ago the Indians used to boil these berries and found them very good to eat.

“But at this time of the year, I am simply at my best. Oh, yes, I feel so jolly and well, so happy and gay.”

And Jack smiled at the little creatures around him.

“You would be surprised, no doubt,” he went on, “if I should tell you a few things about my family history. Some I will leave unsaid, however,” he added with a roguish look.

Now, over Jack’s head was a part of the flower which looked like the sounding-board of a pulpit. He stood very straight in his pulpit, which was very handsome, striped in greenish-yellow, white and orange-yellow colored decorations.

“I have a fine cousin,” he said, “and this is the part of my family history I want to tell you. My cousin is the Calla-lily and she has a beautiful white gown which she wears. But she is striped as I am, and she is a cousin, though she cares more for dress than I do, and looks very stately and fine.

“I am more natural,” said Jack. “I’m a good sort of a chap. I like to talk to my little friends and give them advice because I am very fond of preaching.”

“He must be very fine,” the gnats said.

“How beautiful to give us advice,” the flies added.

And to himself Jack was saying: “The poor little insects, little do they know me. I am not as fine as I make myself out to be. I should just say I’m not.

“For I do not practice what I preach. I don’t believe in doing such a foolish thing. That is, I preach to the little creatures and then I let them come and see my pulpit—and then, it’s very, very seldom that I ever let them out again.” Then Jack began to preach once more and gathered about him more stupid and innocent little gnats and flies! But, of course, as he is only a flower we can’t blame him too much.

JULY 23: The Tide

“Billie Brownie was talking to the High Tide as it came up over the beach,” said daddy. “‘Don’t you ever work any faster or any slower?’ asked Billie Brownie.

“‘Certainly not,’ said the Tide. ‘Why should we?’

“‘It would be nice, I should think, to change some day and rush in very suddenly, and then some other day stay way out on the beach and not come in for hours and hours—long after you are due.’

“‘That would be very wrong,’ said the Tide. ‘We are helped in what we do by two very noble creatures.’ And all the time the Tide was talking its voice would get louder and louder, for all the waves were roaring and making such a racket.

“‘Who are they?’ asked Billie Brownie.

“‘The Sun and the Moon,’ roared the Tide. ‘The Moon is three times more important than the Sun—but the Sun is mighty helpful too. We do as they say, you see. Twice every twenty-four hours of your time we come in and go out. And we do this at such hours as the Sun and Moon wish. So if people ask the Sun and Moon, or watch them for a time, they will be able to tell just what we are going to do. And we never change the time they’ve given us—never—NEVER!’ And the Tide bellowed this for all it was worth.

“‘I wouldn’t keep such good time,’ said Billie Brownie, ‘no, not for any creature—not even Mr. Sun or Mr. Moon. And yet I’m a great friend of both.’

“‘Ah, you’re not such a friend as we are,’ said the Tide. ‘We have always done as Mr. Moon said for years and years and years—too many for me to remember.’

“‘But you might just as well be a clock and get wound up if you’re going to keep such good time and do things just exactly when you’re supposed to. It seems very foolish to me,’ and Billie Brownie put his head to one side as he thought about it.

“‘Ah,’ said the Tide, ‘that’s just where you’re so wrong. A clock has to be looked after. Some one has to wind it up. No one has to wind us up. And a clock often gets out of order and goes to the clock-maker to be mended. You never heard of the Tide going to a Tide Mender to be mended, did you?’

“‘I never knew there was such a thing as a Tide Mender,’ said Billie Brownie.

“‘There isn’t!’ said the Tide. ‘That’s just it. We don’t need one—for we never get out of order. And no one has to worry about us or fuss about us. We just do as Mr. Sun and Mr. Moon say—especially Mr. Moon, as I’ve told you, for somehow,’ and the voice of the Tide grew lower, ‘Mr. Moon has better judgment. I can whisper this to you now, for Mr. Sun has gone to bed and won’t feel hurt! And now I must go out to the ocean again—for I’ve been talking to you for hours.’”

JULY 24: Little Edith’s Garden

“‘Whatever shall I do?’ said little Edith to herself,” commenced daddy, “‘I do want to have a garden so much and yet the snails eat it up!’

“While she was wondering like this a little voice whispered in her ear:

“‘Edith, Edith,’ it said.

“‘Yes,’ answered Edith looking about her. And then, seeing no one, said:

“‘Who are you? Where are you?’

“‘I’m the Fairy Queen,’ said the voice, ‘and you can’t see me because I’ve put on my invisible robe—which no one can see but a Fairy. I’ve come to talk to you. I know how you love your garden and that you’ve not been able to make anything grow this summer. Listen!’ And a queer swishing sound passed through the air.

“‘There!’ continued the Fairy Queen, ‘I have waved my invisible wand and it will bring you luck. Do not plant any seeds for a week—then the snails will think you have decided not to have any garden at all! It will be a joke on them—but they have had enough feasts and now it is time for you to have a garden!’

“In a short time Edith had real flowers, and her garden was more beautiful than ever it had been, and often when she was working among the flowers, she said half aloud:

“‘If the Fairy Queen is around me in her invisible robe, I want to thank her, oh, so much, for my lovely garden.’”

JULY 25: The Earth Visits the Moon

“When Mr. Moon is ‘eclipsed,’ as they say, it means the earth gets in the way, and when Mr. Sun is ‘eclipsed’ it means that Mr. Moon is in the way. And that makes it dark—for an Eclipse is a shadow,” explained daddy.

“Mr. Moon was shining hard. He was very bright and the sky seemed to be lighted up by him. All the stars were out and were twinkling with joy and fun, for well they knew what was going to happen.

“Mr. Moon was also looking very fat and well! Goodness! but he was round and big and jolly! He blinked one eye and then he winked with the other, and he said to himself:

“‘The Earth is going to pay me a visit to-night. I am highly honored. It’s not often that the earth comes my way—and that’s why I am all dressed up in my best.’

“Pretty soon the grown-ups on the Earth saw a shadow come over part of Mr. Moon’s face. Very, very slowly he grew darker, and the Earth people all came out of doors to watch what was going to happen.

“‘I’m pretty important, I am,’ said Mr. Moon to two very tall pine trees. And the pine trees whispered back in the slight, rustling breeze:

“‘Yes, Mr. Moon, you’re very important. And you show us off too. We look handsome, and dark, and tall, when you throw your light over us.’

“‘Hush—’ said Mr. Moon. ‘The Earth is on its way.’

“And only half of Mr. Moon could be seen now. The other half was covered up by a dark shadow.

“‘That’s the earth throwing its shadow on the moon,’ said the grownups to each other. But up in the sky the Moon was saying:

“‘Well, how do you do, Mr. Earth? It’s a long time since I’ve seen you. And how have you been all this time?’

“‘Well,’ said the Earth, as it cast its shadow over Mr. Moon still more, ‘I’ve been in my usual good health. I still am a pretty good and solid soul, you know. I stand for so much too! I let folks walk all over me, and still I never murmur in the least. I let the King of the Clouds pour down on me—and Mr. Sun warms me up with his rays so that I begin to grow thirsty again.

“‘And,’ the Earth continued, ‘sometimes the children dig me up—and I don’t mind in the very least. It’s just my nature, I suppose!’

“‘Yes,’ said Mr. Moon, ‘you are a good-natured old soul.’

“‘Old?’ asked the Earth. ‘Why, every spring I am just as young and fresh again as if I were not a minute old. Whatever do you mean, Mr. Moon?’

“‘That’s true,’ said Mr. Moon. ‘You certainly do come up younger every spring—but you have been around a great many years.’

“‘It’s a good thing I have,’ laughed the Earth; ‘and now tell me how you have been?’

“Mr. Moon was almost entirely covered by the Earth’s shadow as he began his talk:

“‘I am shining as brightly as ever, and I still change my suit several times a month. In fact, there’s not much difference in me—or in my life. I do much the same things always. I’m what you might call a very sensible old fellow. I do everything right on time, and enjoy myself hugely.’

“‘There, there,’ said the Earth. ‘I must be going again.’

“‘What short visits you pay,’ said Mr. Moon as he began to show his brightness again.

“‘Do you know why I do that?’ whispered the Earth.

“‘No,’ said Mr. Moon, and he took a little walk along the sky.

“‘Because,’ said the Earth, ‘grown-ups think it’s a wonderful thing when I call on you. I don’t let them get used to it—and so they think that it’s very, very m-a-r-v-e-l-o-u-s! Look at all the Earth people, and then you’ll agree with me.’

“And of course, true enough, down on the Earth, every one was looking at the Eclipse.”

JULY 26: The Elephant’s Toothache

“The Elephant’s mouth was very much swollen,” said daddy, “and the Zoo dentist said, ‘He has a very bad tooth, but we’ll fix this right away, so he won’t have any more pain.’

“So they put something in the tooth and all around it so the elephant wouldn’t feel any pain at all. It made it feel quite dull and the throbbing which he had felt for two weeks went away.

“In a very few minutes, with the help of an instrument which made the elephant shake a little nervously as he saw it (for he couldn’t imagine what it might be), out came the tooth.

“‘There,’ said the Zoo dentist, ‘you will have no more pain.’

“In a few days the elephant was himself again. The soreness had all gone away and he was eating once more—and eating the most delicious of dishes, for the keeper said:

“‘I want to reward you all I can, as you’re the bravest creature I’ve ever known, for you’ve had this toothache for some time and we never knew it until your mouth became so swollen. Yet you never complained. And that was why you haven’t been eating well lately.’”

JULY 27: The Potato Skins

“The potato skin is receiving fair treatment and justice at last,” said the second potato skin to the first potato skin.

“What is justice?” asked the first potato skin.

“Justice,” said the second potato skin, “is being just and to be just is to be fair. Now do you understand?”

“I do,” said the first potato skin. “Please go on with your story, and forgive me for the interruption. I don’t know much about manners. I haven’t been up in the world enough. The ground is no place for manners, you know; at least I didn’t think so. And then our chief callers and friends were the potato bugs. They’re not overly mannerly.”

“I will forgive you,” said the second potato skin. “For I don’t know that I am mannerly myself.” The second potato skin had been trying to tell a story.

“A great professor made a study of us and he decided we were not poisonous, as some people have tried to make out, but that we were healthful and good, and that for people who didn’t care much for the taste of the skins, we could be ground very fine and cooked with cream,” continued the second potato skin.

“Fine, fine,” said the first potato skin. “To be cooked with cream sounds very nice indeed.”

“That is the way we’re going to be used,” said the second potato skin. “And isn’t it wonderful to think professors study us and our good points?”

“It does sound mighty fine,” said the first potato skin. “Somehow one doesn’t think of the two together—professors and potatoes—but it is nice to think that we are high enough up to be the companions of professors.”

JULY 28: The Traveling Flowers

“A great, great, great many years ago, oh, so many, many, many years ago, there were not so many big cities as there are now,” said Mother Nature one day to her children.

“There was more room everywhere and people almost all had gardens and flowers and could walk just a little distance and gather all the wild flowers they wanted.

“But the cities grew up and somehow, without meaning to, I’m sure, they pushed the flowers out of the way.

“Many of the people missed the flowers and the ferns and the shrubs and the Nature children. But they couldn’t do the work they had to in the city and have gardens, too, for there wasn’t any room in the city for the gardens.

“Well, when the spring-time came along one year, after so many cities had grown bigger and bigger and so many people had gone to live in the cities, the Nature children called and said:

“‘Mother Nature, the Dream King has told us that many, many people from the cities will be out in the country places for holidays and for week-ends this spring.

“‘So we have thought up a plan. You see, the Dream King tells us that every once in a while the people get very tired from all the business they must do and all the studying they must do, too.

“‘So we’ve decided we would look our very best all the time, so that when the people from the cities come out to see us they may pick some of us and take us home with them so we’ll cheer them up.’

“I told them I thought their idea was wonderful. And ever since then the flowers have all looked their best and the shrubs have all looked their best and the ferns have all looked their best, so they could cheer up the city people when they were taken back after holidays.

“So when any of you are picked and carried to the cities, keep your prettiest and freshest smiles on your faces.”

And they all promised Mother Nature they would.

JULY 29: The Visitors

“A little girl named Lillian,” said daddy, “had a very sore throat and could only swallow soft foods.

“‘I think I will call my desserts my visitors,’ she said one day, ‘for I will have to have some make-believe games now that I have to be in bed a little while longer.’

“So when lunch time came and there was cornstarch on her tray, she would say: ‘Welcome, Lord Cornstarch! How is Your Highness to-day? Of course you can’t talk to me. But I can talk to you, and I will do you the great honor due one of your rank and station—that is, I will eat you!’ Then she would eat her dessert of cornstarch until it was all gone.

“When supper time came and she had cornstarch again, she would say: ‘Well, I am glad to see you, Lady Cornstarch. How is Your Highness this fine evening? I don’t suppose Your Ladyship cares to have a little chat, but I am sure Your Ladyship wouldn’t mind being eaten, eh?’ And so Lady Cornstarch would disappear.

“On jelly day she would greet her lunch time jelly by saying: ‘Glad to see you, Prince Jelly. It’s nice that you are such a pleasant prince and will slip down so easily. I wouldn’t like it at all if you were horrid and stiff, as I imagine some princes might be.’

“Her supper jelly she would greet in this fashion:

“‘Good evening, Princess Jelly, how are you this evening? I hope your taste is very fine and that I will enjoy you.’ And then she would eat Princess Jelly.

“And it made the time she had to spend in bed pass much more quickly this way.”

JULY 30: The Little Bumblebee’s Mistake

“The fairies had a fancy-dress ball last night,” commenced daddy.

“They all went as different flowers. One little fairy was dressed so she looked like a bright red nasturtium, another was dressed as a pink rambler rose, another as a yellow golden-glow, another as a pansy, another as a little forget-me-not, and all of them, in short, in lovely costumes like flowers.

“The Fairy Queen wore the costume of the American Beauty Rose, and her wand was one tall, tall rose, very full and big and splendid.

“They had dancing and games and all the elves, the brownies and many of the wood creatures had been invited. But one of the funniest things happened you can imagine. Some of the fairies had dressed themselves as honey-suckles. They kept together and danced together so they would look like a vine. Others had dressed as a vine of morning-glories.

“Pretty soon a buzzing was heard. It was louder than the band of crickets they had engaged for the music; it was louder than the sounds that came from the laughter of the fairies.

“You see, nobody had thought of such a thing happening. The bumble-bees and the humming birds, who had all gone to sleep, had in their dreams imagined they saw lovely morning glories still awake and lovely honey-suckles all over the vines.

“One little bumble-bee went to his smaller brother and nudged him, saying,

“‘Oh, look over there; morning-glories!’

“The other little bumble-bee was about to turn over and go to sleep, for he had scarcely so much as peeped to see, when he, too, suddenly noticed all the morning-glories. They awoke all the bumble-bees far and near and made so much fuss and noise that they woke up the humming-birds, who always notice what the bumble-bees are up to.

“Of course the humming-birds immediately spied the honey-suckles, and you should have seen them scamper.

“When the fairies realized what had happened they almost lost their balance in the dances, for they shook all over with laughter.

“As the bumble-bees and the humming-birds got nearer they, too, saw that they had made a mistake, but the fairies at once called out,

“‘Come to the party and dance, too, and we will give you honey, for we are having it for supper. We couldn’t give a ball and dress like flowers without having flower-honey for supper.’

“And this delighted them all.”

[Illustration: “AS THE BUMBLE-BEES GOT NEARER THEY, TOO, SAW THEY HAD MADE A MISTAKE”—_Page 182_]

JULY 31: Ripe Raspberries

“Did you hear the great news?” asked one of the raspberry bushes of another bush.

“No, what is the great news?” asked the other raspberry bush.

“There is going to be a great raspberry hunt to-day,” the first raspberry bush said.

“Well, if they see us they won’t have to hunt very far,” the second raspberry bush said.

“That is so,” answered the first raspberry bush, “and they know we’re here. We let some of our messengers tell them. The only thing is they are not sure whether or not we are ripe, and so they will be delighted when they find how easily we come off the bushes. For when we’re ripe we come off easily and when we’re not ripe we stick on and show we aren’t ripe enough to come off.”

AUGUST 1: The Brave Mocking Bird

“I have a true story to tell you this evening, children,” said daddy, “of a mocking bird.

“Mr. Mitchell Mocking Bird was his name and he was a pet in a large family of children. They all loved him and he could speak a good many words, and he could sing like ever so many birds. He was allowed out of his cage, too. One night Mitchell began to scream. How he did yell! Piercing yells went all through the house! And he hurried from one bedroom to another. He awoke the mother and daddy of the children first and then he woke up the children.

“‘Come!’ he called. It was a word he could say, and he kept repeating it over and over again.

“‘Come! Come! Come!’ And they all hurried, one after the other, and followed the mocking bird downstairs.

“What should they see but a tiny blaze, which every few minutes seemed to grow and splutter and burst into a bigger flame.

“‘Water! Every one get water!’ shouted the children’s daddy, and the mocking bird kept calling:

“‘Come!’

“They were all thoroughly frightened but they kept their wits about them and kept filling buckets and jugs with water which they poured over the flame.

“After a little while it was out. The Mocking Bird looked very tired. His eyes blinked as if he could hardly keep awake, and it was just then that every one of them noticed him.

“‘Mitchell, you have saved the house and our lives. That fire would have spread and goodness knows what would have happened,’ said their daddy. ‘What a fine, brave bird you are.’

“And the children stroked Mitchell and said:

“‘Fine, brave bird. Daddy says so, too! Our lovely Mitchell Mocking Bird.’

“Mitchell was almost asleep. The fire was out. He had finished his work. He was ready to rest now. He didn’t care about praise. But he was happy that they all loved him so. And how he cared for them. He had saved them and they knew it. He was very happy. And in his own bird way he had thought all this out.

“But to the great surprise of them all, Mitchell said a word they had never known he could say, but it was just the right one. ‘Safe, all safe,’ said Mitchell, as he went to sleep.”

AUGUST 2: The Milkweed Plants

Now the milkweed plant is rather thick with a hollow center and through this center the white milk goes which gives the plant its food. The milk doesn’t care for the air and so that is why the milk stains our hands when we pick the plants.

The leaves are large and of a yellow, gray-green color, while the flowers which grow in clusters are of a pink-lavender shade.

But the little pods filled with seeds are the things the children like and if you see a milkweed plant just look at the little pods.

“I must have milk to drink and to make me strong,” said Milly Milkweed.

“So must I,” said Mamie Milkweed.

“And not only does it make us strong,” said Milly, “but it gives strength to the butterflies which feast upon us, for if we are strong and delicious it makes them strong and beautiful.

“Ah,” said Mamie, “it’s fine to have butterflies and children for friends, and to have our very own milkman always with us. We’re never forgotten in the early mornings by any possible accident. No, we always have our milkman and we have friends.”

AUGUST 3: Telephone Peas

“Hello, Telephone Peas and String-Beans,” said Lord Lettuce. “Lady Lettuce and the Lettuce youngsters are coming up, too, and there are going to be lots of crops of us. We make a fine salad, we’re so young and tender and fresh. Seems to me, Telephone Peas, you hurried me up. You know this is our second crop. We’ve been here before. But I do believe it was your very name that hurried me.

“I heard you say it and I acted as my relatives say people do when they hear the telephone. I’ve even heard that they’ve left the salad on their plates and have answered the telephone before they ate their salad. Yes, your very name and saying it must have hurried us.”

“Well,” said the Telephone Peas, “we feel up to date. We don’t know that there is any special reason for our name, but we have grown to like it mighty well. We’re supposed to be a large, good kind, too; in fact, one of the best there are.”

“Dear me,” said one of the String-Beans, “I wish some one would call our family the Airplane String-Beans or something like that. Or perhaps we might be called the Submarine String-Beans.”

“There wouldn’t be much sense to that,” said the Potato, almost ready to eat, “for you are up on vines. Now we might have that name because we’re in the ground, though it is true we are not under the water.”

And the garden vegetables all agreed that that was true but that the Telephone Peas had a fine family name in reality.

AUGUST 4: The Harebell Umbrellas

“The musk-ox,” said daddy, “is prepared for the rain by the coarse hair which grows on top of his nice, soft hair. This coarse hair, as you know, catches the rain and then he shakes it all off so that his body doesn’t get wet.

“The umbrella bird can put up some of his feathers just as people put up their umbrellas and that protects him from the rain.

“Both the great big musk-ox and the little umbrella bird are very proud that they always have their rain protectors with them, and they have very little use for people who forget their umbrellas and borrow other people’s and then forget to return them.

“Of course the musk-ox and the umbrella bird can’t very well lend their umbrellas because they don’t carry them around by the beak or front paw, but instead have their umbrellas attached to them.

“But they aren’t the only creatures to be so careful about the rain, that is, there are some flowers who are just as careful, and the harebell, of which I am going to tell you, sees that none of its family will ever drown.

“Now, the harebell family of flowers are blue in color. The flowers grow on thin, rather tall stems, and when the flowers are in bud they grow very straight and stand right up. When the tiny buds burst into flowers, if they stayed straight up, as they stand when they are buds, every time the rain came it would fill the little flowers and completely drown them, and make them droop forever.

“The little blue petals aren’t strong enough to stand the rain, and the flowers are shaped so the rain would come right into them and fill them up—for the harebells are like little bells. So they drop their little heads just before they open and then the rain can’t hurt them.”

AUGUST 5: A Children’s Circus

“This way to the big show,” some children were shouting. “Come right along,” they said. “This is the way to see all the wonders of the age. Look at the Frog-Child, the Snake-Lady, the Toad-Man, the Turtle Babies.”

All the children went in the direction from which the shouts and orders were given.

The children who were shouting were very much excited. “Admission to the show, ten cents,” they kept saying. “It’s the most wonderful show in the world.”

There were a dozen children giving a play-circus which was supposed to be very much like a real one. They had asked all their friends and the money they received was to go to a children’s ward in a hospital. Every one of their friends came and soon the circus began. First of all there was a long parade while some of the children beat drums and others played tunes on combs covered with tissue paper.

Two little girls rode ponies and on the heads of the ponies sat two monkeys made of cloth! They had bead eyes!

A boy did a lot of fine tricks on a rocking horse, and there were all the usual circus tricks, although perhaps not some of the more difficult ones.

After a little while a boy came out on the platform and said,

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, Cats and Dogs, we have now to offer a fine performance—a side show. We have shown you the regular acts of the circus and we trust that you are pleased.” Here followed a great deal of clapping and shouting.

“And,” the boy continued, “we are now to have the great privilege of seeing the Frog-Child, the Snake-Lady, the Toad-Man, the Turtle-Babies. Step this way, Ladies, Gentlemen, Boys, Girls, Cats and Dogs. Come right inside the tent at your left and there you will see these things. There is no extra charge for admission.”

All the children at once began to troop to their left through the side tent.

“What could it mean?” they asked each other. What surprises they were getting!

When they were inside the tent how they did laugh! One of the children was in just such a green suit as Mr. Frog would wear and really looked quite a good deal like a grandson of Grandpa Frog. He was hopping about singing in a queer croaking voice,

“Galloo, Galloo, Goog-a-room, Goog-a-room.”

Another child who looked like a snake, because she wore an imitation snakeskin, said, “Come and see the Snake-Lady. I eat things whole.” And as she said this she swallowed a tiny crumb.

“I am the Toad-Man, come and see me,” grunted the Toad—or rather the child who was dressed like one.

“We are the Turtle Babies. We snap, we play, we draw in our heads under our shells!” And sure enough they were doing all these tricks.

Their costumes were really quite wonderful, although they had been made mostly out of paper.

All the children who were looking on were quite delighted and said,

“We think you are marvelous!” And all the children dressed like animals made bows and said thank you in voices that sounded a great deal like the voices of snakes, toads, frogs and turtles.

AUGUST 6: The Bank Swallow

“Won’t you tell me what your name means?” asked Effie Elf of Mr. Bank Swallow. “Really, you have such a curious name and I’ve always been anxious to find out what it means.”

“My name is Bank Swallow because I and my family build our nests in holes in banks. By banks I mean the banks out of doors and not the banks where one saves one’s money.

“We are very friendly with one another, and we have big towns and villages and cities of nests of Bank Swallows.

“We’re the very smallest of the Swallow family, I believe. And we can always be known by our neck bands which we wear on our gray throats. Our neck bands are much darker and show very clearly.

“We dress in simple brown and gray, though our throats are white.

“We have tunnels and long entrances to our homes, and at the end of our tunnels we build the nest. Yes, we’re rather unusual, I believe.”

“Very unusual,” said Effie Elf. “Fancy nesting in a hole in a bank rather than in a tree. That is quite odd, quite different from most of the birds.

“So your name has nothing to do with banks where they have money?” she asked.

“Nothing at all,” said the Bank Swallow. “We haven’t any need of money. Of course if we needed it we’d probably save some for the bad days and spend the rest on good insects to eat and other delicacies. But we don’t have to pay for what we eat, so we don’t need any money.

“Besides, we’d be ashamed to open bank accounts for the banks are used to so much money that they’d laugh at us.”

“Oh, nonsense!” said Effie Elf, “the good ones wouldn’t do that, for no one who amounts to anything makes fun of any one else not having so much.

“People who don’t amount to much put on airs.”

“Then I’ll always be able to tell,” said the Bank Swallow.

AUGUST 7: The Cuckoo-Clock

Julius was very sleepy and he could hardly keep his eyes open. The whole trouble was that he hated to do things on time. He did not like to go to bed at the hour he was supposed to and he never, never wanted to get up in the morning when his mother said, “Time to get up, Julius.”

And now he was sleepy, now in the middle of the afternoon. It was raining hard outside and in the big library where he was sitting a large open fire was burning merrily. Near the fireplace was a cuckoo-clock and Julius always loved to watch the little cuckoo come out and tell any one who happened to be listening just what time it was.

“It’s almost time for the cuckoo to come out,” said Julius. “But oh gracious, how sleepy I am. I know I was late in going to bed last night but I don’t see why I should be so dreadfully sleepy. I do hope I will stay awake until the cuckoo says five o’clock. It is so much nicer to hear him on the hour than at other times, because he only says ‘cuckoo’ once when the hand is at the half hour.”

“Cuckoo,” said the cuckoo bird in the clock. And then he said it four times more. Each time he made a little bow as he spoke and when he had said “cuckoo” for the fifth time, Julius was waiting to watch the little door close.

The cuckoo in the clock always lives behind a little door over the face of the clock, and when he is not telling the time he is in there.

But this time the door did not close. And the cuckoo stayed out of his little home bobbing and saying “cuckoo” many times over, until at last it sounded like “Julius, Julius, Julius.”

“Yes,” said Julius, “you are calling me by my right name. How are you, Mr. Cuckoo Bird of the clock?”

The little bird was made of wood, to be sure, but he seemed so certain of himself and so well satisfied that Julius felt he must be alive.

“I am well, I thank you kindly,” said the cuckoo bird. “But I don’t have to ask you.”

“Why not?” asked Julius.

“Because I know,” said the cuckoo bird. “You are sleepy, and it’s not the time to sleep. Ha, ha, ha. Whatever would you do if you were a clock, or if your home was at the top of one?”

“Well, I am not a clock,” said Julius, “and I am jolly glad of it.”

“Tut, tut,” said the cuckoo bird. “You are getting quite cross, Master Julius. Too little sleep. Well, well, I suppose I must forgive you. But it’s a shame you couldn’t live in a clock for a time.”

“What do you mean?” asked Julius, who was quite frightened now. He felt the little cuckoo bird would hop down and pick him right up and put him in the clock.

“If you could live in a clock and take my place you would have to be on time. Six o’clock would mean six o’clock and not half-past! Seven-thirty in the morning would not mean a quarter past eight! Ah no, in the clock we keep good time. We live on the moment and on the hour and half-hours we come out to tell people to remember that the time is going by and they mustn’t waste it for it is so extremely precious.”

“Don’t you believe in people sleeping?” asked Julius.

“To be sure, to be sure,” said the cuckoo, “but I believe they should sleep at the right time. They should not choose another time for it, such as the middle of the afternoon, because they sat up too late the night before.”

Julius was very much ashamed. He felt the cuckoo bird knew that he had been doing all that and he wished the bird would go back in his little home and shut the door. He was getting more afraid every second that he would be taken back there. And oh dear, how he would hate to live in a clock.

“Just suppose,” said the cuckoo bird, “that I did things at the wrong time. Suppose I should come out at six o’clock and tell every one it was eight? You can’t imagine it, can you? And why not? Because I have had the training of a clock. I have been an assistant in keeping the time and if I don’t notice that you think more of the time I will put you back of the clock.” The cuckoo bird banged his little door, and Julius, awaking with a start, rubbed his sleepy eyes, and said,

“I shall always do things on time from now on for how dreadful it must be to live back of a clock and have the hours depend so much on you.”

AUGUST 8: Zuzeppa, the Monkey

“Zuzeppa,” said daddy, “was a monkey who had come from Africa and he was going to give a special performance of his acting. The special performance was to be given on a day set aside by the keeper. Of course it couldn’t be advertised all around as a circus could, but the keeper told all his special children friends who came to the zoo very often and they told their friends, and it got around so that for the day of the performance the monkey house was filled with children.

“‘Let me shake hands with the performer,’ the keeper said, and he shook hands with Zuzeppa. Then they each bowed, and the keeper said, ‘Now Zuzeppa will show you his circus tricks.’

“So Zuzeppa hung by his tail and turned many somersaults; he swung back and forth and jumped and twisted and turned. He did the most marvelous of circus tricks and all the children clapped their hands and the other monkeys yelled and screamed, ‘Well done, Zuzeppa.’

“No one else knew what the monkeys meant but every one knew they were excited. They weren’t jealous of Zuzeppa, for they knew he wanted to learn tricks and be a trick-performing monkey. Besides he had worked hard enough to have a whole monkey house to himself for all afternoon.

“‘Now,’ said the keeper, ‘Zuzeppa will do his special trick. It has been done before by monkeys but Zuzeppa never did it before, and he has been practising it so he could do it beautifully for this performance.’

“The keeper took out a little wooden table and put a napkin upon it and a cloth. Then Zuzeppa spread the cloth over the table, reached down in a box the keeper had, and took out a knife and a fork and a spoon. He put all these on the table and then tied the napkin around his neck.

“Next he took a little broken chair which was in his cage and sat upon it.

“The keeper acted as the waiter, and passed things to Zuzeppa. And what do you suppose Zuzeppa did?”

“What?” asked the children.

“Zuzeppa behaved at the table just as though he were a real person. He ate with his fork and he cut with his knife. He peeled his banana which he had for dessert and then he ate it, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“But when he was all through his meal and had put his hands in a finger bowl to make them nice and clean, he took a pipe, which the keeper handed to him, struck a match and lighted the pipe. He only smoked for a second or two, blowing the smoke out, as he didn’t especially care for it. But oh, how happy he was when the children laughed and clapped their hands! And this is a true story!”

AUGUST 9: Mr. Bullfrog

“I am the king of this pond,” said Mr. Bullfrog. “If any one comes here I don’t like, I swallow him! That is the way to get rid of creatures you don’t like!

“Just swallow them!

“I’ve heard people talking who were rowing on the pond and who were gathering pond lilies, and I’ve heard them say how they were interrupted by other people when they had some important work to do.

“And that the people didn’t care in the least if they were interrupting!

“Goog-a-room, goog-a-room, I can imagine nothing more annoying.

“But I cannot understand why people do not swallow these other people who come and annoy them and interrupt them.

“Just suppose an insect hops on my nose and says:

“‘Sorry, Mr. Bullfrog, but I do hope I’m not annoying you.’ I don’t pay any attention to that speech. I know it’s not so. If he cared about not annoying me he wouldn’t land on my nose.

“But I don’t bother to answer him back, for that would be beneath my dignity. So I just swallow him!”

AUGUST 10: Allie Baa’s Letter

“Allie Baa,” said daddy, “is a rag doll. Her real name is Alice Gustava Ariel Star Jewel Bright Carol Carmen Cucumber-Green.

“Mrs. Cucumber-Green is her mother’s make-believe name, or I should say it was her mother’s make-believe name.

“Her mother is a grown-up lady now, but still she has kept Allie Baa, and when little girls go to call on her she brings out Allie Baa and Allie at once makes friends.

“Now, this summer Allie’s mother went to the seashore. She left Allie in charge of the city apartment. She told Allie to keep watch over the apartment and to see that all was safe. Allie was the name she was always called by for short, as you know.

“Now, when Allie’s great-aunt’s birthday came she wanted to send her a present as she had always done. So she sent some pillows for the porch where her great-aunt loved to sit.

“On the day of the birthday in the excitement Allie’s great-aunt did not see the little card which said:

“‘To Dear Great-Aunt Mary, with love and many happy returns from Allie Baa.’

“But the next day when Allie’s great-aunt was looking over her presents she found the little card and knew that it belonged with the present of the pillows which she had opened and which she had thought some one else had given to her.

“Well, she sat right down and she wrote Allie Baa this letter and sent it to be given to Allie Baa, care of Allie’s mother, who was at the seashore, as I have told you.

“This was the letter Allie received, and because she thought it was such a nice letter she wanted to let Jack and Evelyn and their friends hear it, too.

“‘My dear Allie Baa,’ the letter commenced.

“‘I find this morning on reading over my birthday cards that the pillows are from you, so will you please accept my thanks for your sensible, most useful, pretty gift. When I received my presents yesterday it was a distinct loss not to find a gift from you, and I thought perhaps you were too hot to shop or had some other good reason. But I am glad I thought wrongly and you did remember me as of old.

“‘I shall think of you as I lie, sit, or “back up” against these pillows.

“‘I suppose you are in the city this summer, as I have not heard of any “ocean dips” on your part.

“‘Perhaps salt water might not agree with you. It is well to be cautious, which means careful, and run no risks! You might feel a responsibility with guarding the apartment but you have a calm, brave, quiet nature which will keep you from a nervous breakdown, I feel sure.

“‘With love and thanks,

“‘Affectionately,

“‘GREAT-AUNT MARY.’

“Wasn’t that a nice letter. Well, Allie’s mother, on a trip up to town took the letter to Allie, for she couldn’t very well go to the door and get it from the postman if her mother had sent it on by mail. But oh, she was so pleased to have a letter from Great-Aunt Mary.

“And she smiled in her rag doll way, and the paint on her face cracked just a little with joy, for she loved Aunt Mary, who had often let her sit near her and draw up close as an affectionate, loving doll likes to do.

“And she told her mother to tell Great-Aunt Mary that she was so happy with her letter, and that she hoped Great-Aunt Mary would have many, many happy returns of her birthday, for she was the best Great-Aunt Mary that ever lived!”

AUGUST 11: Chickadee

“I can’t understand,” said Mrs. Chickadee, “how creatures can live together and quarrel all the time. It is such waste of perfectly good time in the first place.

“In the second place it isn’t any fun. Now, singing and chirping and worm hunting and bread-crumb parties are all lots of fun.

“But quarreling isn’t any fun at all. It makes creatures unhappy and it makes them very often quite sad. Even if they get the best of a quarrel they don’t feel all happy and excited as they do after a fine party.

“Now, the Sparrows fight all the time. But no one would ever describe the Sparrow as a merry, happy little bird.

“There is the Starling. No one would describe him as a happy bird. And the Starling is a fighter, too.

“We scold in fun, nice chuckling, scolding notes we give, but we are famous for our good spirits. Chick-a-dee-dee-dee.

“I’m sure most people know what we look like with our little black-capped heads and the patch of black right under our beaks.

“We have pretty throats, we’re told. The black patches are soft looking and rather smart, too.

“We wear simple gray suits and have white touches on our wings.

“In the winter time we like to be about, too. And nothing upsets us. We never grumble over the weather. We can’t understand how people can grumble over the weather.

“To us it is so foolish. The weather is going to do just what it wants to, in the first place, and isn’t going to pay attention to any one, nor is it going to pay any attention to what any one thinks. And yet how few seem to realize that!”

AUGUST 12: The Little Caterpillars

“Did our mother receive this leaf as a gift?” asked the first little brown caterpillar.

“Oh no,” said the second little brown caterpillar. “She just liked the looks of it or thought the taste of it would be good for us and so she just took it and left it here.”

“Gracious,” said the third little brown caterpillar, “you know caterpillars can’t wait until they’re asked to have their meals.”

“They can’t wait to be given leaves,” said the fourth little brown caterpillar.

“They’d never get them if they did,” said the fifth little brown caterpillar.

“And we must have leaves in our lives,” said the sixth little brown caterpillar.

“How handsome we will be when we become Blue Swallow-tail Butterflies,” said the seventh little brown caterpillar.

“I greatly look forward to that day,” said the eighth little brown caterpillar.

“And then we shall fly about and drink honey,” said the ninth little brown caterpillar.

“And people will forget that we were caterpillars and will say,

“‘Look at those beautiful butterflies with their blue markings,’” added the tenth little brown caterpillar.

“We will pretend not to hear them but it will please us,” said the eleventh little brown caterpillar.

“Of course it will please us,” said the twelfth little brown caterpillar.

“We will eat and grow strong so we will be very beautiful,” said the thirteenth little brown caterpillar.

“And eat, too, because it is so pleasant to eat,” said the fourteenth little brown caterpillar as he took an extra large nibble at their leaf dining-room.

So they ate until they were a little bigger and then they went off, each one alone, to look for more food and adventures.

AUGUST 13: The Catbird

“Tell me what happened, Mr. Catbird,” said Billie Brownie.

“Well, I was sitting on the fence, this very same fence upon which I’m now sitting, and some children were playing in the yard near-by.

“While they were playing I made all sorts of queer sounds just like a cat.

“You know how I can take off the various sounds of a cat?”

“I most certainly do that,” said Billie Brownie.

“They didn’t know where the cat could be, and they began to look for the cat.

“I almost fell off the fence laughing when they started to look for the cat.

“Then when they were looking by the cellar stairs and under the old tree yonder I took great chances that they might see that I was not the cat, and I made the same sounds again.

“They kept saying to each other:

“‘Well, I’m sure I heard a cat that time.’

“I really and truly almost fell off the fence laughing. Then they came back and went on with their games. They saw me sitting here and I had my beak tight and looked as though I hadn’t made a sound.”

“I know,” said Billie Brownie.

“Then I sat very still, of course, and one of them said:

“‘Well, all I can see is that gray bird with the black cap.’

“Of course they meant they could see me, and I was the one making all the sounds like a cat.

“They finished playing after a time and began to dig in the garden, transplanting the lettuce and hoeing the beans and watering the vegetables.

“Then I began to make sounds like the different birds and they would turn to one another and say:

“‘What song is that? Whose voice was that? Do you know what bird that could have been?’

“And they’d look about and not see any of the other birds, for hardly any birds were around then, and I sat, looking so quiet and meek.

“And then I heard one of them say:

“‘I still don’t see any other creature but that gray bird.’

“I thought surely then that they knew I was fooling them, but I found out they didn’t know I could make sounds like a cat and sing like the other birds and sometimes like a mocking-bird, too.

“But they didn’t know. And they’ve all gone off now. And still they’re wondering where the cat could have been which they thought they heard, and where all the birds were they were unable to see.

“Ha, ha, ha, that is the greatest joke—to think I fooled them all.”

“Well, you’re a smart bird, there is no mistake about that,” said Billie Brownie, “and I can tell you I admire your smartness.”

“I fooled them, I fooled them,” chirped Mr. Catbird. “They didn’t know the catbird when they saw him, nor did they know him when they heard him at his little jokes!”

AUGUST 14: The Fairy Queen’s Story

This was the story the Fairy Queen told before her banquet the other evening.

“An old lady had a little cabin home just off these woods. Her only companion was a cat. The cat was black but two paws were white, and the old lady thought they were very wonderful.

“Now and again the old lady had to go into the village to buy food. Sometimes the cat would follow, wearing a little jingling bell, for the old lady wanted to be sure that the cat had lots to eat, but that he would never get a bird.

“That was why she had him wear the collar with the little bell. The bell warned the birds he was coming, so they could get away. He could be heard coming along by the sound of the tingling bell.

“But this time, when the old lady went into the village the cat was sleepy and sat on the porch in the sunshine.

“‘Will you come, pussy?’ she asked. But the pussy blinked his eyes as though to say, ‘I am sleepy.’ So she went off.

“When she came back she found to her horror that the cottage had been burned down. Some one had left a match lighted in the woods, and a fire had started which had spread. But even though the house had burned down the cat sat in front of where the house should be trying to say, ‘I am sorry, but at least I am here to welcome you.’ And the old lady hugged her cat and said:

“‘You are always glad to welcome me, and with you here I do not feel so badly about the house.’

“But,” said the Fairy Queen, “I used my magic wand, and in three minutes and four seconds and two quarter-seconds the house was up again—and the old lady had both her home and her cat.”

“That was a real fairy tale,” the fairies and their friends all said.

“It was indeed,” said the Fairy Queen. “It was about make-believe characters for a make-believe story, but that makes it a real Fairy Tale, eh?” And then they all enjoyed the Fairy Queen’s fine banquet.

AUGUST 15: A Hospital Circus

“The circus was in the city,” said daddy, “and every day the circus people and the animals had performed for thousands and thousands of children and many, many grown-ups. ‘You know,’ said one of the clowns, ‘that I think it would be a good idea some morning when we haven’t any performance and no parade and no practice performance, if a good many of us went to one of the hospital yards and performed for the children who can’t get out and see us.’ And they did! Every little child was either in a balcony bed or in a wheeled chair when through the big doors of the large hospital yard there came a parade—a real circus parade.

“And then the circus band struck up a fine tune and the clowns marched about and made jokes and giggled—oh, how they did laugh! And the children all laughed too and clapped their hands. The lady walked the tight-rope with a parasol over her head, ponies ran around the yard, and there were some trapezes for those who swung and hung by their knees and their feet.

“The elephants did their act too—and the children fed them peanuts!

“But happier than any child, happier than any of the circus people who had come to make the sick children happy, was the merry, jolly old clown who had thought it all up!”

AUGUST 16: The Fire

“Quack, quack, quack, help, help, help,” shrieked and cackled more than one hundred thousand ducks at the same time.

“Quack, quack, help, help, help,” they kept on cackling.

“There must be some trouble over at the duck farm,” said a man who was a fireman and who was sitting outside the firehouse in a town some distance away when he heard this quacking. He told another fireman that there surely must be some trouble at the duck farm.

“I think,” said the fireman, “I will get out my spy-glass and see what I can make out.”

For the quacking kept up and still it sounded very queer to the firemen.

“Don’t you suppose,” said the second fireman, “that one of the ducks has been hurt and the others are quacking in sympathy?”

“I don’t believe,” said the first fireman, “that one hundred thousand ducks would be so sympathetic at the same time. And they wouldn’t make so much noise. I fear something has happened over there.”

And he looked through his spy-glass in the direction of the duck farm.

“There. I see something like smoke,” he said. “Yes, I’m sure I see something like smoke.”

“Near the duck farm?” said the other fireman, getting up, and adding: “We’d better send out the alarm and get started.”

“It’s away from the farm that I see the smoke,” said the first fireman, “but maybe the ducks are afraid it will reach them. It’s one of those forest fires I think.”

So an alarm was sent out in the town and the firemen rushed to the firehouse and got on their fire-clothes as they hurried away on the fire-engine.

How the horses did run! Still the ducks were quacking. The horses galloped, the men held on, and the ones who guided the fire horses drove as they had never driven before.

“It’s a fire!” shouted the people on the farm. “A terrible forest fire! Oh, send for the firemen and the engines! Oh, send for help, help, help.” And they telephoned wildly to the town.

But just at that moment, when the people on the farm felt that help could not come in time to save them and the hundred thousand ducks, along dashed the fire-engines and the brave firemen drawn by the splendid horses.

They rushed past the duck farm to the forest fire which was coming steadily nearer.

“Come men, come people,” they shouted as they went by. And every one went rushing to help the firemen.

The dreadful forest fire was stopped just before it reached the duck farm, and the ducks cackled softly and happily, though still they were nervous from all they had been through: “We are safe, quack, quack, we are safe.”

“How did you ever get here before we telephoned?” asked the people on the farm.

“Your ducks sent us the alarm,” replied one of the firemen.

AUGUST 17: Friends of Animals

“Years and years and years ago,” said daddy, “there lived an emperor in India whose name was Asoka. He was the first man—in fact, the first person, I believe—to start a hospital for the cure of sick animals.

“He lived so many years ago that the way we know of much that was done in his time is by reading what the men who wrote histories have to tell us. Most of the good deeds which he did were written upon the rocks, ’way, ’way back, years and years and years ago. And upon these rocks were also written rules and directions for his people.

“Among many things which he did, in addition to building hospitals for animals, was to build hospitals for human beings and to see that they were looked after. He also had wells dug so people could drink when they were traveling through the country.

“He ordered the planting of trees so people could rest under their shade, and he spent all his time thinking how he could help others.

“But he was not the first person who tried to help others. He was the first one, though, to think of a hospital for animals and throughout the time he was emperor he saw that the hospitals for animals were kept in good condition.

“Animals with thorns in their feet were taken to the hospital. The horrid thorns would be taken out and soft, cooling liniment or ointment poured on and the animal would feel all right once more.

“Animals with sore throats, animals with colds, animals with broken bones and sprained ankles—all animals who needed attention and care were looked after in the hospitals founded by Asoka.

“If animals had written histories as well as human beings they would have written a great deal about Asoka and the wonderful things he did.

“But even though they could not write, for future people and future animals, of Asoka’s goodness, and even though they couldn’t thank him with words, they were grateful, as only animals can be grateful—very deeply, dumbly grateful.

“But the historians—the men who wrote about those times—speak of the goodness of Asoka and of how the people loved him.”

AUGUST 18: The Orangeade

“They talk about birds who go South for the winter and about butterflies and other little creatures who sleep all winter,” said the Orangeade, “but my family might just as well not exist in the winter time.”

“The same is true of me, too,” said the Lemonade as well as the Iced Tea.

“But at the same time your families do exist because there are lemons and oranges and tea all the year around,” said a little gnome. “And sometimes your families are about in warmer climates just as the birds are in warmer climates in the winter. But it isn’t strange that you aren’t wanted in the winter when it is cold, for no one wants a cool drink of orangeade or of lemonade and no one wants a glass of iced tea when there is a snow-storm and when the wind is blowing outside the windows.

“You can understand that, can’t you?” asked the gnome.

“Yes, I understand that now,” said the Orangeade, “and I don’t feel unhappy any more. Ah, here come the tennis players. We must be ready for them!”

AUGUST 19: The Climbing Perch

“I am going to tell you this evening,” said daddy, “about the Climbing Perch family before they came to the big aquarium.

“Far, far away in Africa they lived in a river, and were a very happy family. But one day the river seemed to be drying up so fast that they couldn’t find enough water to live in. They had noticed it getting worse and worse every day for some time, and they had been hoping for rain. But this day it was so bad that they knew something would have to be done.

“‘Well, even if the river dries up, it won’t bother us,’ said Granddaddy Climbing Perch, ‘not in the very least.’ And he gave a huge spatter-spatter with his tail.

“All the other fishes looked very much worried and their fins trembled with fear.

“‘Why, Granddaddy Climbing Perch,’ said the old Mother Climbing Perch, ‘do you want all the children to die?’

“‘I should say not,’ replied Granddaddy Climbing Perch angrily. ‘The very idea of your saying such a thing. I am surprised—yes, surprised, and very much annoyed.’ Granddaddy Climbing Perch’s fins wiggled with temper.

“‘I’m sorry,’ said old Mother Climbing Perch meekly, ‘but I didn’t just understand what you said such a thing for, and why you don’t seem to be worried that the river is drying up. You always used to love the children and tell them stories.’

“‘I do still love them, and I shall tell them a true story now of an adventure which will happen to us. Come around me, children!’ And Granddaddy Climbing Perch flopped his tail very hard.

“All the fishes swam over by Granddaddy Climbing Perch and looked at him out of their queer, shiny eyes.

“‘Now, children,’ he began, ‘years and years and years ago, our great, great, greatgrandfathers were caught just like this in a river which had dried up. They decided that the only thing for them to do was to try to make up their minds to die, when the Fairy Queen happened along.

“‘“I will name you the Climbing Perch,” she said, “and you will be able to go from pond to pond in the dry seasons. See if it is not so!” She waved her wand and disappeared—and sure enough all the family climbed out of the river—which was dry—and with their gills, which are like saws, they scrambled to the next pond, where there was water. We will do the same.’

“All the Climbing Perch family now knew the meaning of their family name, and off they started, led by Granddaddy Climbing Perch. They got to the next pond where there was water—but they hadn’t been there for more than a week when that pond dried up, too, and they had to be off again.

“Would you believe it—but they had to change ponds five times before they could stay and make a real home! And they are the ones I saw to-day. Of all the fishes in the Aquarium they are the proudest because they had had such traveled lives—and they are very happy. Then, too, after all their hard work, they are glad to be in a big tank which looks as if it would never go dry!”

AUGUST 20: The Onion’s Insult

“I have been insulted,” said the onion.

“Tell me what the insult was,” said the carrot.

“Some one was going to help the cook get the dinner—some one who knew little about cooking but less about how to fix vegetables, and this person said she would peel the onions.

“She began to peel me first as though I were a potato and then she kept on peeling until the cook suddenly noticed what she was doing and said:

“‘Stop peeling that poor onion. It’s all good to eat, and we will just cut it up in smaller pieces for frying.’

“Imagine,” said the onion, “to hear of any one so ignorant about onions. That was said before you were brought out, Mr. Carrot. I was insulted! To think of not being understood better than that. Oh, it is sad, it is insulting, not to be understood.”

“Cheer up,” said the carrot. “It is not an insult when a creature is ignorant. You should just feel sorry for ignorance, and feel proud and happy that you were saved in time so you could do your part when the great meeting takes place between you and Mr. Beefsteak to-night at the big dinner.”

“That’s so,” said the onion, “I will cheer up. It has made me feel better to talk to you. I don’t feel insulted any more.”

AUGUST 21: Harriet’s Monkey

“A little girl named Harriet,” said daddy, “was sitting on the front porch of her home one day when a hurdy-gurdy came along. An old man was wheeling the hurdy-gurdy and on top of it sat a monkey with a red jacket and red cap. His jacket had brass buttons on it, and on either side were two little pockets which jingled with pennies.

“Then the old man played a tune on his hurdy-gurdy and the monkey danced. He took off his cap and Harriet took out all the pennies in her purse—she had had seven—and gave them to the monkey.

“Into one pocket he put four pennies and into the other three. Then he took off his cap for more. But Harriet said: ‘I have no more pennies.’ The monkey did not seem to understand at first—but when Harriet shook her head and showed him her empty purse, he leaned his head on one side and pretended to cry. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and he put it to his eyes as if to wipe the tears away.

“But soon, when the old man played another tune, the monkey began to dance around and seemed quite as happy as before.

“And the old man played yet again. But by this time the monkey was tired, so what do you think he did?”

“What?” exclaimed the children.

“He saw that opposite where Harriet was sitting, there was a rocking-chair—just like Harriet’s. He gave a jump and up he got into the chair. Then twisting his tail around him, he began to rock and rock, back and forth, and how he did seem to enjoy it!

“As they were sitting there opposite each other—Harriet and the monkey—along came Harriet’s mother. She was surprised to see Harriet’s guest, and the monkey got right out of the chair and made a low bow. He began to do his tricks again, and he took the pennies Harriet’s mother gave him. He also wept when she didn’t give him any more!

“‘How’d you like to own a fine monkey like that?’ asked the old man.

“‘Oh mother, could I?’ asked Harriet.

“‘Well, he is a cunning little fellow,’ agreed her mother, ‘but what will daddy say?’

“‘Oh, daddy will think he is great fun,’ said Harriet quickly, for she saw that her mother was really thinking of letting her keep the monkey.

“‘Is he a nice, quiet monkey?’ asked her mother.

“‘Show how quiet you are,’ said the old man. And the monkey laid down as if he were sound asleep.

“‘I think we’ll keep him,’ said Harriet’s mother, and Harriet bounded up and down with joy. The monkey copied her and jumped up and down too, for he had taken a great liking to Harriet—and he made a polite bow to his former master, as he handed him some money from Harriet’s mother.”

AUGUST 22: Summer Corn

“Let me tell you,” said Grandfather Corn, “the ways of summer corn.”

All the ears of corn listened, which, of course, they could do quite perfectly, as they were all ears!

“I have grown very quickly. I am very big and full grown,” continued Grandfather Corn. “I wanted to be like this, for in every corn-field some one must give this word of advice to little ears of corn.”

“Advice, advice,” said the ears of corn. “We are going to hear advice.”

“That’s it, my bright little ears. I would say my bright little eyes if I could, but of course I can’t.”

“Too bad,” said the little ears. “But never mind, we are not without ears, even if we haven’t eyes and noses and chins.”

“Eyes, and noses and chins are very silly and quite useless,” said Grandfather Corn.

“Certainly for us at any rate,” said the little ears.

“But for the advice,” said Grandfather Corn.

“When it gets cold don’t let any one encourage you into growing. We will give the people our fine selves as long as the warm weather remains, but not when it is cold. We’re famous for being summer corn, and we will never let it be said of us that we were so coarse and hardened that we could stand the chilly days.” And the little ears nestled in their silken beds and said they would certainly not try to grow in the cold weather for they knew they would hate anything that wasn’t like summer warmth.

AUGUST 23: A Bee Story

“The worker bees,” said daddy, “carry little pollen baskets and they bring in the pollen to the young. They also bring in some sweetened water which the little ones like very much indeed.

“Now and again on a very hot day a number of bees will stand at the front door of their hive and will fan in some of the outside air so as to cool the ones who must be within the hive. They always see that the hive is kept very, very clean. Oh, how neat they are.

“They have to guard against their enemy, the wax moth, too. The wax moth is a tiny gray moth miller who likes to get into the hive and feed upon the combs and the pollen stored away in the honey-bees’ cells. If they are allowed there they will build tunnels through the combs and destroy them. The Italian bees, little gentle creatures, are fine about defending themselves, even doing better work than the usual honey-bees.

“The bees must go to many flowers in order to get all the honey that they need. They love clover, oh, how they love clover, which shows that they’re not in the least bit snobbish, for clover grows wild in the fields, of course.

“The bees love buckwheat fields, and from many, many flowers and a great deal of gathered nectar and pollen, they get the amount of honey they feel they need for themselves for the time being, and to store for the future.

“They always work, they hardly ever play. Always they are thinking of the day which may come when they won’t have such an easy time gathering honey, and though they may seem to have all they need they think it is well to be thrifty and to be ready for a rainy day.

“How the bees love the sweet things of life, the flowers, the honey, the warmth, the summertime.

“But though they love the sweet things of life, they are never through working. Right through their little lives they work. They work too hard. They don’t stop to enjoy their hard work as creatures should.

“Even when they have all the nourishment they need they go on searching for more for the storehouse. They do not flit about and enjoy life like the beautiful butterflies. No, they must always work. They’ve had no help from other creatures; they’ve never destroyed lives of other creatures in order to get food. Though they flit among all flowers they never become snobbish and love only the flowers which cost a lot to grow. They love clover, free clover, best of all.”

AUGUST 24: Allie Baa’s Portrait

“A little girl named Melly,” said daddy, “was having her portrait painted. The lady who was painting her portrait one day said to her:

“‘Now, you are such a good girl, and you keep so still while I am painting a lovely picture of you to give to your mother, that I wonder if there is anything you would like me to paint for you?’

“The little girl’s face was in smiles at once.

“‘Oh yes,’ she cried, ‘I’d like to have my dollie painted.’ And when Melly brought her doll the next time the lady said to herself, ‘I think I will change the picture of Melly and have her holding her doll, as she is now.’

“And how differently Melly looked! No longer was she the little girl sitting stiffly on a chair, looking now and again at the window and longing to be out with her friends. She was not being good because she thought she should, but because she was happy having Allie Baa with her.

“She looked like a real little girl, and the lady was delighted. For before she had seemed unlike a child. She had looked so sad.

“‘Yes,’ said the lady to herself, ‘I will certainly have Melly holding the doll.’

“And then she did a painting of Allie Baa, and it looked just like her. How delighted Melly was! She showed the picture of Allie to her—but of course Allie never even smiled. She looked at it just as she looked at everything else.

“‘You dear, precious dollie,’ said Melly, ‘you don’t care whether you have a painting of your dear old face or not. But it’s a great comfort to your mother.’

“The lady was so pleased at the picture of Melly, and she was proud of herself that she had thought of having Melly bring her doll.

“When Melly’s mother saw the painting she said: ‘Whatever made you think of having her hold Allie Baa? Why, that is just like my dear little girl—just the way we always see her. How glad I am.’ And the lady was happy, for she had made the real mother and the make-believe so pleased!”

AUGUST 25: Saving the Elm

“Yes, I was very, very ill,” said the elm tree. “I didn’t know whether I would ever get well or not. I had all sorts of things the matter with me. My wood was cracking and I was generally in bad shape.

“They talked about me, people did, and they said it would be a great pity to cut me down. They said I gave shade in the hot summer, they said I was very beautiful and they said I should be saved if possible. A lot of very clever tree doctors were sent for and they said that I could be saved. Oh, how happy that made me!” And Grandfather Elm swayed in the breeze and smiled.

“All the bad wood which had started in to hurt me was taken away. Then they fixed up the places where the old wood had been so it would keep in good condition in the future.

“I had steel straps put upon me in certain places to keep me from blowing over and fixed in such a way that I could sway and laugh and blow naturally with the rest of you.

“My, but when they said I was all right, how I did rejoice! I was so happy, so happy. For I am a well elm now!”

AUGUST 26: A Magic Lantern Show

There was a queer cry from outside the lighthouse—on the window ledge—and Teeny, the little daughter of the lighthouse keeper looked out. There, against the shutter was a sea gull and another was by him. The window ledge was very wide but they did not seem to be there from choice. Then Teeny remembered what a storm there had been the night before, and she thought that these sea gulls must have been hurt.

Teeny opened the window and took the sea gulls inside. They were very young and they had been hurt. They had not been hurt very badly, but they had been very much frightened.

All day Teeny looked after the sea gulls. They grew quite tame, and as if they knew that Teeny was a little girl of the sea.

It was late in the afternoon when Teeny remembered that she had planned to have a Magic Lantern show.

“This will be fine,” said Teeny to herself. “I have two of my audience. Usually I have to be audience and stage manager, too. Sometimes daddy and mother come, but they are busy at this time, and usually I am alone. Of course, I have lots of companions in the pictures that I show, and I leave them on the sheet which shows the pictures for a long time and talk to them.”

Teeny took a great cushion and she put the sea gulls upon it. “To-morrow you will be strong enough to be set free,” she told them. “I know you hate to be prisoners when you are used to flying over the great sea.”

The sea gulls paid no attention to the magic lantern show, which disappointed Teeny a little. But still, they did make an audience, and that was quite a treat!

AUGUST 27: The Baby Ear

“I am so afraid I won’t be eaten,” said the baby ear of corn as it rested on the kitchen table in a f