One of the common names of this splendid creature is "Milkweed
Butterfly" because its grub or caterpillar is fond of feeding on the
leaves of the common milkweed.

The drawing shows the size and style of the grub; in colour it is yellow
or yellowish green with black bands.

As soon as it is grown big enough and fat enough, the grub hangs itself
up as a "chrysalis" which is a Greek word that may be freely rendered
into "golden jewel." The middle drawing shows its shape; in colour it is
of a pale green with spots of gold, or as it has been described "a green
house with golden nails."

After about two weeks the great change takes place, and the bundle-baby
or chrysalis opens to let out the splendid red-brown Butterfly, of
nearly the same red as a Cock Robin's breast in springtime, with lines
and embroidery of black and its border set with pearls. Near the middle
of the hind wing is a dark spot like a thickening of one rib. This has
been called a "sachet bag" or "scent-pocket," and though not very
ornamental to look at, is of more use to it than the most beautiful
white pearl of the border. For this is the battery of its wireless
telegraph. We think our ships and aeroplanes very far advanced because
they can signal miles away, and yet the Wandering Monarch had an outfit
for sending messages long before it was ever dreamed of by man. Maybe it
is not a very strong battery, but it certainly reaches for miles; and
maybe its messages are not very clear, but they serve at least to let
the Monarchs know where their wives are, and how to find them, which is
something.

There is one other reason for calling this the Wanderer. Although it is
an American by birth, it has travelled to England and the Philippines
and is ever going farther over the world till at last no doubt it will
have seen all lands and possessed them.

It makes old Ulysses look like a very stay-at-home, for his farthest
travels never went beyond the blue Mediterranean, and his whole twenty
years of voyaging covered less than the states east of the
Mississippi--much less than our Red Wanderer covers in a single summer.


TALE 15

The Bells of the Solomon Seal

Let us go out into the woods, and look for the Solomon Seal. This is May
and we should find it in some half open place, where it is neither wet
nor dry. Here it is! See the string of bells that hangs from its curving
stem. Dig out its roots, wash off the earth, and you will see the mark
of King Solomon's Seal that gives its name to the plant. Now listen to
the story of it all.

King Solomon had the "second sight" that means the deeper sight, the
magic eyesight which made him see through a stone wall, or read men's
thoughts. King Solomon had fayland ears; which means, he could hear all
sounds from A to Z; while common ears, like yours and mine, hear only
the middle sounds from K to Q.

Everything that lives and moves is giving out music; every flower that
blooms is singing its song. We cannot hear, our ears are too dull; but
King Solomon could. And one day, as he walked through the woods, he
heard a new flower-song that made him stop and listen. It had strange
music with it, and part of that was a chime of golden bells.

[Illustration: The Bells of the Solomon Seal]

The great King sat down on a bank. His fayland eyes could see right into
the ground. He saw the fat fleshy root like a little goblin, reaching
its long white fingers down into the soil, picking out the magic
crystals to pack away in its pockets; and he could see the tall stem
like a wood-elf carrying them up, and spreading them upon its flat
hands, so they could soak up the juices of the sun and air. He could see
them turning into a wonderful stuff like amber dew, with a tang like
new-cut timber. But it was not yet done, so he could not tell just what
it might be good for. Now it was springtime, and it would be harvest red
moon before the little worker would have the magic healing stored in its
treasure bags underground. So to prevent any one harming or hindering
the plant till its work was done, the King took out his seal ring and
stamped seal marks all along the root, where they are unto this day. And
then to make it sure he made the golden bell chimes become visible so
every one could see them. There they hang like a row of ringing bells.

But the King never came back to learn the rest of it, for he had to
build the temple; and he had many wives who took up a great deal of his
time. So the world has never found out just what is the magic power of
the plant. But it is there, be sure of that, just as surely as the peal
of golden bells is there, and the marks of the great King's Seal.


TALE 16

The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal

[Illustration: The Silver Bells of the False Solomon Seal]

Over a month later, the King suddenly remembered that he had not been
out to see the plant whose root he had sealed. He was very busy at the
time, as he had the temple to build, and many wives to look after; so he
called Djin, a good goblin, who does hard work and said, "Go and see
that no one has harmed that plant," then told him how to find it.

Away went the good goblin, like a flash. He was a very obedient servant,
but not very bright; and when he came to the woods, he looked all around
for the plant with the chime of bells, for King Solomon had forgotten to
say that the bells do not ring after June, and it was now July. So the
goblin looked about for a long time. He did not dare to go back and say
he could not find it--that would have been a terrible crime, so he
looked and looked. At last he heard a little tinkle of bells away off in
the woods. He flew to the place, and there was a plant like the one he
sought but its bells were of silver, and all in a bunch instead of a
long string. The good goblin dug down to the big fat root in the ground
and found that the seal marks had grown over--at least he thought they
had--for they were nowhere to be seen. So he looked around for something
to help. His eye fell on an acorn cup. He took this, and using it for a
seal, he stamped the root all over.

Then he took a piece of the root and a sprig and flew back to show the
King. Solomon smiled and said: "You did the best you could, but you have
marked the wrong root. Listen! This is not the golden chime, but the
chime of silver bells."

That is the story of it and that is why it has ever since been called
the False Solomon Seal.

FOOTNOTE:

[A] Some, like the Turkey-buzzards, have not yet been heard to sing, but
I believe they do.




THINGS TO SEE IN SUMMERTIME

[Illustration: The Brownie and the Mouse-bird]




Things to See in Summertime


TALE 17

How the Mouse-bird Made Fun of the Brownie

Once there was a conceited Brownie, who thought he could do more things
and do them better than any other of his people. He had not tried yet,
for he was very young, but he said he was going to do them some day!

One morning a sly old Brownie, really making fun of him, said: "Why
don't you catch that Phoebe-bird? It is quite easy if you put a little
salt on his tail." Away went Smarty Brownie to try. But the Phoebe would
not sit still, and the Brownie came back saying: "He bobbed his tail so,
the salt would not stay on."

"Well," said the sly old Brownie, "there is a little Mouse-bird whose
tail never bobs. You can easily catch him, for you see, he does not even
fly, but crawls like a mouse up the tree," and he pointed to a little
brown Creeper. By this time the young Brownie knew that the others were
laughing at him, so he said rather hotly, "I'll just show you right
now."

He took an acorn cup full of salt, and went after the Mouse-bird. It was
at the bottom of the big tree, creeping up, round and round, as if on a
spiral staircase, and the Brownie began to climb in the same way. But
every little while the climber had to stop and rest. This had strange
results, for there is a law in Brownie land, that wherever one of the
little people stops to sit down, or rest, a toadstool must spring up for
him to sit on. So the track of the Brownie up the trunk became one long
staircase of toadstool steps, some close, some far apart, but each
showing where the Brownie had rested. They came closer together toward
the top where the Brownie had got tired, but he was coming very near to
the Creeper now. He got his pinch of salt all ready, as his friends down
below kept calling and jeering: "Now you've got him, now is your
chance." But just as he was going to leap forward and drop the salt on
its tail, the Creeper gave a tiny little laugh like "_Tee-tee-tee_,"
spread its wings, for it could fly very well, and sailed away to the
bottom of the next tree to do the spiral staircase all over again, while
Smarty Brownie was so mad that he jumped to the ground and hid away from
his friends for two days. When he came back he did not talk quite so
much as he used to. But to this day you can see the staircase of
toadstools on the tree trunks where the Brownie went up.


TALE 18

The Pot-herb that Sailed with the Pilgrims

"Come," said the Guide, "to-day I am going to show you a Pot-herb that
came from England with the Pilgrim Fathers and spread over the whole of
America. There is a story about it that will keep it ever in your
memory."

[Illustration: The Pilgrim's Pot-herb]

The Pilgrims had landed in Massachusetts, and slowly made farms for
themselves as they cleared off the forest. They had a very hard time at
first, but the Indians helped them; sometimes with gifts of venison, and
sometimes by showing them which things in the woods were good to eat.

There was a Squaw named Monapini, "the Root-digger," who was very
clever at finding forest foods. She became friendly with a white woman
named Ruth Pilgrim, and so Ruth's family got the benefit of it, and
always had on the table many good things that came from the woods.

One day, long after the farms were cleared and doing well, the white
woman said, "See, Mother Monapini, thou hast shown me many things, now I
have somewhat to show thee. There hath grown up in our wheat field a
small herb that must have come from England with the wheat, for hitherto
I have not seen it elsewhere. We call it lamb's-quarter, for the lamb
doth eat it by choice. Or maybe because we do eat it with a quarter of
lamb. Nevertheless it maketh a good pot-herb when boiled."

The old Indian woman's eyes were fixed on the new plant that was good to
eat: and she said, "Is it very good, oh white sister?"

"Yes, and our medicine men do say that it driveth out the poison that
maketh itch and spots on the skin." After a moment Monapini said, "It
looketh to me like the foot of a wild goose."

"Well found," chuckled Ruth, "for sometimes our people do call it by
that very name."

"That tells me different," said the Indian.

"What mean you," said Ruth.

"Is not a goose foot very strong, so it never catcheth cold in the icy
water?"

"Yes."

"And this hath the shape of a goose foot?"

"Yes."

"Then my Shaman tells that it is by such likeness that the Great Spirit
showeth the goose foot plant to be charged with the driving out of
colds."

"It may be so," said the white woman, "but this I know. It is very good
and helpeth the whole body."

The Indian picked a handful of the pot-herbs, then stared hard at the
last; a very tall and strong one.

"What hast thou now, Monapini?" The red woman pointed to the stem of the
lamb's-quarter, whereon were long red streaks, and said: "This I see,
that, even as the white-man's herb came over the sea and was harmless
and clean while it was weak, but grew strong and possessed this field,
then was streaked to midheight with blood, so also shall they be who
brought it--streaked at last to the very waist with blood--not the white
men's but the dark purple blood of the Indian. This the voices tell me
is in the coming years, that this is what we shall get again for helping
you--destruction in return for kindness. Mine inner eyes have seen it."
She threw down the new pot-herb and glided away, to be seen no more in
the settlements of the white men.

And Ruth, as she gazed after her, knew that it was true. Had she not
heard her people talking and planning? For even as the weed seed came
with the wheat, so evil spirits came with the God-fearing Pilgrims, and
already these were planning to put the heathens to the sword, when the
Colony was strong enough.

So the Indian woman read the truth in the little pot-herb that sailed
and landed with the Pilgrims; that stands in our fields to this day,
streaked with the blood of the passing race--standing, a thing of
remembrance.


TALE 19

How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves

[Illustration: How the Red Clover Got the White Mark on Its Leaves]

Once upon a time a Bee, a Bug, and a Cow went marching up to Mother
Carey's palace in the hemlock grove, to tell her of their troubles. They
complained that food was poor and scarce, and they were tired of the
kinds that grew along the roadsides.

Mother Carey heard them patiently, then she said: "Yes, you have some
reason to complain, so I will send you a new food called Clover. Its
flower shall be full of honey for the Bee, its leaves full of cowfood
and its cellar shall be stocked with tiny pudding bags of meal for the
Bug, that is for good little Bug-folks who live underground."

Now the tribes of the Bee, the Bug, and the Cow had a fine time
feasting, for the new food was everywhere.

But Cows are rather stupid you know. They found the new food so good
that they kept on munching everything that had three round leaves,
thinking it was Clover, and very soon a lot of them were poisoned with
strange plants that no wise Cow would think of eating.

So Mother Carey called a Busy Brownie, and put him on guard to keep the
Cows from eating the poison plants by mistake.

At first it was good fun, and the Brownie enjoyed it because it made him
feel important. But he got very tired of his job and wanted to go to the
ball game.

He sat down on a toadstool, and looked very glum. He could hear the
other Brownies shouting at the game, and that made him feel worse. Then
he heard a great uproar, and voices yelling "A home run!" "A home run!"
That drove him wild. He had been whittling the edge of the toadstool
with his knife, and now he slashed off a big piece of the cap, he was so
mad.

Then up he got and said to the Cows: "See here, you fool Cows, I can't
stay here for ever trying to keep you from eating poison, but I'll do
this much. I'll stamp all the good-to-eat leaves with a mark that will
be your guide."

[Illustration: The Shamrock]

So he made a rubber stamp out of part of the toadstool he was sitting
on, and stamped every Clover leaf in that pasture, so the Cows could be
sure, then skipped away to the ball game.

When Mother Carey heard of his running away from his job, she was very
angry. She said: "Well, you Bad Brownie, you should be ashamed, but that
white mark was a good idea so I'll forgive you, if you go round, and put
it on every Clover leaf in the world."

He had to do it, though it looked like an endless task, and he never
would have finished it, had not the other Brownies all over the world
come to help him; so it was done at last. And that is the reason that
every Clover leaf to-day has on it the white mark like an arrowhead, the
Brownie sign for "good-to eat."

The Cows get along better now, but still they are very stupid; they go
munching ahead without thinking, and will even eat the blossoms which
belong to the Bees. And the Bees have to buzz very loudly and even sting
the Cows on their noses to keep them from stealing the bee-food. The
good little Bugs underground have the best time, for there the Cows can
not harm them, and the Bees never come near. They eat when they are
hungry and sleep when they are cold, which is their idea of a good time;
so except for some little quarrels between the Cows and the Bees they
have all gotten along very well ever since.


TALE 20

The Shamrock and Her Three Sisters

[Illustration: Yellow-haired Hob. Shamrock's blonde sister]

The Shamrock is really the White Clover. It is much the same shape as
the Red Clover, and has the same food bags in its cellar. It is just as
good for Cows and even better for Bees; so the Brownie stamped all its
leaves with the white arrow mark, as you can plainly see. This plant,
as you know, is the emblem of Ireland.

The story-tellers say that St. Patrick was preaching to Leary, the
heathen King of Tara in Ireland hoping to turn him into a Christian. The
king listened attentively, but he was puzzled by St. Patrick's account
of the Trinity. "Stop," said the king. "How can there be three Gods in
one and only one God where there are three. That is impossible." St.
Patrick stooped down and picking up a Shamrock leaf, said: "See, there
it is, growing in your own soil; there are three parts but only one
leaf." The king was so much struck by this proof that he became a
Christian and ever since the Shamrock has been the emblem of Ireland.

Now to fill out the history of the Clovers, I should tell you of the
other three. The next is called Alsike, or the Pink Clover.

When you look at this Alsike or Alsatian Clover, you might think its
mother was a red clover and its father a white one, for it is about half
way between them in size, and its bloom is pink on the outside and white
in the middle. Evidently, the Brownie didn't think much of it, for he
did not put his arrow mark on its leaves. Still the Cows think it is
good, the Bees think it is fine, and it always carried lots of food bags
in its cellar. So also does the next sister--Melilot, the Yellow Clover
or Honey-lotus--and the last and sweetest of them all, is the Sweet
Clover that spreads sweet smells in the old-fashioned garden.


TALE 21

The Indian Basket-maker

[Illustration: The Indian Basket]

"Come, little Nagami, my Bird-Singer, you are ten years old, it is time
you learned to make baskets. I made my first when I was but eight,"
said Mother Akoko proudly, for she was the best basket-maker on the
river.

So they took a sharp stick, and went into the woods. Akoko looked for
spruce trees that had been blown down by the storm, but found none, so
she stopped under some standing spruce, at a place with no underbrush
and said: "See, Nagami, here we dig for wattap."

The spruce roots or "wattap" were near the surface and easily found, but
not easily got out, because they were long, tangled and criss-crossed.
Yet, by pulling up, and cutting under, they soon got a bundle of roots
like cords, and of different lengths, from two feet to a yard, or more.

"Good," said Akoko; "this is enough and we need not soak them, for it is
summer, and the sap is running. If it were fall we should have to boil
them. Now you must scrape them clear of the brown bark." So Nagami took
her knife and worked for an hour, then came with the bundle saying:
"See, Mother, they are smooth, and so white that they have not a brown
spot left." "Good," said Akoko, "now you need some bark of the willow
for sewing cord. Let us look along the river bank."

There they found the round-leafed, or fish-net willow, and stripped off
enough of its strong bark to make a bundle as big as one hand could
hold.

This also had to be scraped clear of the brown skin, leaving only the
strong whitish inner bark, which, when split into strips, was good for
sewing.

"See, my Nagami, when I was a little girl I had only a bone needle made
from the leg of a deer, but you have easy work; here is a big steel
packing needle, which I bought for you from a trader. This is how you
make your basket."

So Akoko began a flat coil with the spruce roots, and sewed it together
with the willow bark for thread, until it was a span wide. And whenever
a new root was to be added, she cut both old piece and new, to a long
point, so they would overlap without a bump.

Then the next coil of the spruce roots was laid on, not flat and level,
but raised a little. Also the next, until the walls were as high as four
fingers. Then Akoko said, "Good, that is enough. It is a fine corn
basket. But we must give it a red rim for good luck."

So they sought in a sunny place along the shore, and found the fruit of
the squawberry or blitum. "See," said Akoko, "the miscawa. Gather a
handful, my Nagami. They make the red basket-dye."

They crushed the rich red berries, saving the red juice in a clam shell,
and soaked a few strands of the white willow bark in the stain. When
they were dry, Nagami was taught to add a rim to her basket, by sewing
it over and over as in the picture.

Then Akoko said, "Good, my little Bird-Singer, you have done well, you
have made some old black roots into a beautiful basket."

       *       *       *       *       *

N.B. The Guide will remember that rattan and raffia can be used for this
when it is impossible to get spruce roots and willow bark. Good dyes may
be made from many different berries.


TALE 22

Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?

It has long been the custom of the Brownies to have a great feast on the
first of the merry month of May, to celebrate the return of the spring.

[Illustration: The Crinkleroot; or Who Hid the Salad?]

One springtime long ago, they got ready as usual. The King of the
Brownies had invited all the leaders; the place for the dinner was
chosen in a grove of mandrakes whose flat umbrellas made a perfect
roof, rain or shine. The Bell Bird, whose other name is Wood Thrush, was
ringing his bell, and calling all the Chief Brownies by name.

"Ta-rool-ya! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"

"Oka-lee! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"

"Cherk! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"

"Come to the feasting! _ting-a-ling-ling-ling._"

A hundred glow worms were told to hurry up with their lights and be
ready for that night, and busy Brownies gathered good things from woods
and waters, for the feast.

May Day came bright and beautiful. The busy ones had all the "eats" in
the Mandrake Hall, the glowworms were sleeping soundly to fill their
storage batteries ready for the night. It made the salamanders' mouths
water to see so many good things; but they were not asked, so stayed
away. There were dewdrops in acorn cups, and honey on the wax. There
were clam shells piled up with red checkerberries, and caddis worms on
the half shell, with spicebush nubbins. A huge white Mecha-meck was the
chief dish, with bog nuts on the side. There were lovely long crinkle
salads. And last, there were gumdrops from the sweet birch, while at
each place was a pussy willow to dust the food over with golden pollen
that gave it a pleasant peppery tang. All the guests were there, and the
feast was nearly over, when a terrible thing took place!

Of all the dreaded happenings in the world of beauty there is nothing
else so feared as the forest fire. There is not much danger of it in
springtime, but it is possible at any season, after a long dry spell.
Words cannot tell of the horror it spreads, as it comes raging through
the woods destroying all beautiful living things.

And right in the middle of the feast, the dreadful news was carried by a
flying Night-bird.

"Fire, Fire, Fire, Fire!" he screamed, and almost at once the smoke came
drifting through the banquet hall, so they knew it was true.

There was mad haste to escape, and only two ways were open. One was to
get across some big stream, and the other was to hide in a cave
underground. The birds took the first way, and the Brownies the second.
Every Woodchuck den was just packed with Brownies within a few minutes.
But the busy Brownie who was chief steward and had charge of the feast,
had no idea of leaving all the good things to burn up, if he could help
it. First he sent six of his helpers to make a deep pit for the big
Mecha-meck, and while they did that he began hiding all the dishes in
the ground. Last he dug some deep holes and quickly buried all the
crinkle salads; then he ran for his life into a cave.

The raging fire came along. It is too horrible to tell about, for it was
sent by the Evil One. The lovely woods were left black without a living
thing. But the very next day, Mother Carey and Mother Earth and El Sol,
set about saving the wreck, and in a marvellously short time actually
had made it green again. The mayflowers came up a second time that year,
the violets came back, and in each place where the Brownies had hid a
salad there came up a curious plant that never had been seen before. It
had three saw-edged leaves and a long wand, much like the one carried by
the Chief Steward. I never was able to find out his name for sure, but I
think it was Trileaf or Three-leaves. Anyway, if you dig under his sign
and sceptre wand, you will surely find the salad, and very good indeed
it is to eat; it was not hurt in the least by the fire.

[Illustration: The Mecha-meck]

But from that day, the Brownies have been very shy of feasting during
dry weather in the woods. They generally have their banquets now in some
meadow, and afterward you can tell the place of the feast by the circle
of little toadstools called fairy rings. For you know that wherever a
Brownie sits, a toadstool must spring up for him to sit on.


TALE 23

The Mecha-meck

That fearful time when the forest fire set all the Brownies busy burying
their food and dishes at the feast-hall, you remember it took six of
them to carry and hide the Mecha-meck. For it is a large fat white root
as big as a baby, and sometimes it has arms or legs, so that when
Monapini told Ruth Pilgrim about it she called it "Man-of-the-earth."

You remember that the busy Brownie hid all the Crinkle salads, and so
saved them; and most of us have found the Crinkleroot and eaten it
since. But how many of us have found the Mecha-meck? I know only one man
who has. We call him the Wise Woodman. He found and dug out the one from
which I made the picture. It was two and a half feet long and weighed
fifteen pounds--fifteen pounds of good food. Think of it! Above it and
growing out of its hiding place was a long trailing vine that looked
like a white morning-glory. There is always one of these over the
Mecha-meck. And by that you may find it, if you look along the sunny
banks outside of the woods. But still it is very hard to find. I never
yet got one, though I have found many of the crinkle-root salads. Of
course, that is easy to explain, for the busy Brownies buried hundreds
of the salads, but only one of the big fat Mecha-meck.


TALE 24

Dutchman's Breeches

[Illustration: Dutchman's Dive

Dutchman's Breeches]

Of course they are not, for no Dutchman I ever saw could wear such tiny
things. I will tell you what they really are and how that came to be.

You remember how the Brownies assembled for the feast on May Day when
the Glow worms were the lamps and the Wood Thrush rang the bell. Well,
it so happened that day that a great crowd of the merrymakers gathered
long before the feast was ready, and while they were wondering what to
do someone shouted: "See, how fine and warm the water is where the brook
spreads out into the ditch. Let us have our first swim of the season
right now!"

So they all went with a whoop! stripped off their clothes, and into
their swimming breeches with a perfect riot of glee.

Then how they did splash! Some blind folks thought it must be a million
early pollywogs splashing. But the swim ended with another racket when
the dinner bell rang.

Each splashing Brownie hopped out and hung up his breeches to dry as he
got into his clothes.

Then you remember the fire came along and scared them away. Of course
the breeches were wet, so they didn't get singed; and there you can see
them hanging to this day on the first of May. That is what they really
are--Brownies' Breeches. And because the Brownies often swim in a ditch,
they are called ditch-man's breeches; but believe me, they are not
Dutchman's breeches and never could be.

[Illustration: The Seven Sour Sisters]


TALE 25

The Seven Sour Sisters

If you look along any half-open bank in the edge of the woods, or even
in the woods itself, you are sure to see one of the Seven Sorrel
Sisters, with leaves a little like Clover, only notched in the end and
without the white marks, that the Brownie put on the Clover. There are
seven of them, according to most doctors; five have yellow eyes, one
purple, and one white streaked with blood. Their Latin name means
"vinegar" and their Greek name means "acid." "Sorrel" itself means
"Little sour one," so you see they have the reputation of a sour bunch.
If you eat one of the leaves, you will agree that the name was
well-chosen, and understand why the druggists get the tart "salt of
lemons" from this family. The French use these Sour Sisters for their
sour soup. But in spite of their unsweetness, they are among the pretty
things of the woods; their forms are delicate and graceful; their eyes
are like jewels, and when the night comes down, they bow their heads,
gracefully fold their hands, and sleep like a lot of tired children.


TALE 26

Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass

[Illustration: Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass]

You should know the history of the lowly little flower called
Blue-curls; and you must remember that flowers have their troubles just
as you have. For one thing, flowers must get their pollen or yellow
flower-dust, carried to some other of their kind, or they cannot keep on
growing good seed. And since the flower cannot walk about finding places
for its pollen, it generally makes a bargain with a bee. It says, "If
you will carry my pollen to my cousins yonder, I will give you a sweet
sip of nectar." That is where the bees get the stuff for all their
honey, and that is how the pollen is carried.

Well, the modest little Blue-curls long had had a working agreement with
the Meadow Bees, and got on nicely. But one summer Blue-curls became
discontented. She saw all the other plants with wonderful gifts that had
power to cure pain and sickness; while she was doing nothing but live
her own easy life, and she felt she was a nobody.

So one day as Mother Carey's slowest steed was swishing over the grass,
Blue-curls cried out: "Mother Carey, Mother Carey, won't you hear me and
grant me a gift?"

"What is it, little one?" said the All-mother.

"Oh, Mother Carey, the pansy cures heartache, the monkshood cures
canker-lip, the tansy cures colds, and all the others have some joy and
honour of service, but I am good for nothing, Mother Carey so the wise
men despise me. Won't you give me a job? Won't you give me some little
power?"

"Little one, such an asking never finds me deaf. I love those who would
help. I will give you a little bit of _all healing_ so that you shall be
good medicine, if not the best, for all ills, and men shall call you
'Self-heal' and 'All-heal' for you shall have all healing in yourself."

And it has been so ever since. So that some who go by looks call the
modest little meadow flower, "Blue-curls in the Grass," but the old
herb-men who know her goodness call her "All-heal" or "Self-heal."


TALE 27

The Four Butterflies You See Every Summer

[Illustration: Summer Butterflies (a little over life size)]

There are four Butterflies that you are sure to see every summer, on our
fields; and remember that each of them goes through the same changes.
First it is an egg, then a greedy grub, next a hanging bundle-baby,
and last a beautiful winged fairy, living a life of freedom and joy.

In the picture I have shown the butterflies life size, but you must add
the colour as you get each one to copy.

The first is the _White_ or _Cabbage Butterfly_ that flits over our
gardens all summer long.

It is not a true American, but came from Europe in 1860 and landed at
Quebec, from whence it has spread all over the country. In the drawing I
have shown the female; the male is nearly the same but has only one
round dark spot on the front wings. Its grub is a little naked green
caterpillar, that eats very nearly a million dollars' worth of cabbages
a year; so it is a pity it was ever allowed to land in this country.
There are moths that we should like to get rid of, but this is the only
butterfly that is a pest.

2nd. The _Yellow_ or _Clouded Sulphur Butterfly_. You are sure to find
it, as soon as you begin to look for butterflies. This is the one that
is often seen in flocks about mud puddles.

When I was a very small boy, I once caught a dozen of them, and made a
little beehive to hold them, thinking that they would settle down and
make themselves at home, just like bees or pigeons. But the grown-ups
made me let them fly away, for the Sulphur is a kindly creature, and
does little or no harm.

One of the most beautiful things I ever came across, was, when about ten
years old, I saw on a fence stake ahead of me a big bird that was red,
white and blue, with a flaming yellow fan-crest. Then as I came closer,
I knew that it was a red-headed woodpecker, with a Sulphur Butterfly in
his beak; this made the crest; what I thought was blue turned out to be
his glossy black back reflecting the blue sky.

3rd. The next is the _Red Admiral_ or _Nettle Butterfly_. The "red" part
of the name is right, but why "Admiral"? I never could see unless it was
misprint for "Admirable."

[Illustration: Red Admiral]

[Illustration: Tiger Swallowtail (life size)]

This beautiful insect lays its eggs and raises its young on nettles, and
where nettles are, there is the Red Admiral also. And that means over
nearly all the world! Its caterpillar is not very well protected with
bristles, not at all when compared with the Woolly-bear, but it lives in
the nettles, and, whether they like it or not, the hospitable nettles
with their stings protect the caterpillar. The crawler may be grateful,
but he shows it in a poor way, for he turns on the faithful nettle, and
eats it up. In fact the only food he cares about is nettle-salad, and he
indulges in it several times a day, yes all day long, eating, growing
and bursting his skin a number of times, till he is big enough to hang
himself up for the winter, probably in a nettle. Then next spring he
comes forth, in the full dress uniform of a Red Admiral, gold lace, red
sash, silver braid and all.

4th. The last of the four is the _Tiger Swallowtail_. You are sure to
see it some day--the big yellow butterfly that is striped like a tiger,
with peacock's feathers in its train, and two long prongs, like a
swallow-tail, to finish off with. It is found in nearly all parts of the
Eastern States and Canada. I saw great flocks of them on the Slave River
of the North.

It is remarkable in that there are both blondes and brunettes among its
ladies. The one shown in the drawing is a blonde. The brunettes are so
much darker as to be nearly black; and so different that at one time
everyone thought they were of a different kind altogether.


TALE 28

The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar

[Illustration: The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar (the moth is a little
over life size)]

The lovely Io Moth is one that you will see early, and never forget, for
it is common, and ranges over all the country from Canada to the Gulf.
When you see it, you will be inclined to spell its name Eye-oh--for it
has on each wing a splendid eye like that on a peacock's tail-feather,
while the rest of its dress is brown velvet and gold.

There is a strange chapter in the life of Io, which you should know
because it shows that Mother Carey never gives any wonderful gift to her
creatures without also giving with it some equal burden of sorrow.

This is how it all came about.

Long ago when the little ones of the Io Moth were small, they were, like
most caterpillars, very ugly little things. They felt very badly about
it, and so they set out one day for the great Home Place of Mother Carey
in the Whispering Grove of the Ages.

There they prayed, "Dear Mother Carey, we are not of an ugly race, why
should we be so ugly as caterpillars? Will you not make us beautiful,
for beauty is one of the best things of all?"

Mother Carey smiled and waved a finger toward a little Brownie, who came
with a tray on which were two cups; one full of bright sparkling pink
stuff, and the other with something that looked like dark green oil. But
the glasses were joined at the top, there was but one place to drink,
and that reached both.

Then Mother Carey said, "These are the goblets of life, one is balm and
will give you joy, the other is gall and will give you suffering. You
may drink little or much, but you must drink equally of both. Now what
would ye?"

The little ugly creatures whispered together, then one said: "Mother
Carey, if we drink, will it give us beauty?"

"Yes, my children, the red goblet of life will give you beauty, but with
it the other will give you grief."

They whispered together, then all the little crawlers went silently
forward, and each took a long drink of the double goblet.

Then they crawled away, and at once became the most beautiful of all
caterpillars, brilliant jewel-green with stripes of pink, velvet, and
gold. Never before were there seen such exquisite little crawlers.

But now a sad thing happened. They were so beautiful that many creatures
became their enemies, and began to kill them and eat them one after
another. They crawled as fast as they could, and hid away, but many of
them were killed by birds and beasts of prey, as well as by big fierce
insects.

They did not know what to do, so next day the few that were left crawled
back to the Grove of Ages, and once more stood before Mother Carey.

"Well, my Beauty-crawlers," she said, "what would you?"

"Oh, Mother Carey, it is fearful, everyone seeks to destroy us. Most of
us are killed, and many of us wounded. Will you not protect us?"

"You drank of the two goblets, my children. I warned you that your
beauty would bring terrible trouble with it."

They bowed their little heads in silent sorrow, for they knew that that
was true.

"Now," said the All-Mother, "do you wish to go back and be ugly again?"

They whispered together and said: "No, Mother Carey, it is better to be
beautiful and die."

[Illustration: The Splendid Silk-Moth (about 1/2 life size)]

Then Mother Carey looked on them very kindly, and said: "Little ones, I
love your brave spirit. You shall not die. Neither shall you lose your
beauty. I will give you a defence that will keep off all your enemies
but one, that is the Long-stinger Wasp, for you must in some way pay for
your loveliness." She waved her wand, and all over each of the
Beauty-crawlers, there came out bunches of sharp stickers like porcupine
quills, only they were worse than porcupine quills for each of the
stickers was poisoned at the tip, so that no creature could touch the
Beauty-crawlers without being stung.

The birds and beasts let them alone now, or suffer a terrible punishment
from the poison spears. You children, too, must beware of them; touch
them not, they will give you festering wounds. There is only one
creature now that the Beauty-crawlers truly fear; that is the
Long-stinger Wasp. He does indeed take toll of their race, but that is
the price they still must pay for their beauty. Did they not drink of
the double goblet?


TALE 29

The Great Splendid Silk-Moth or _Samia Cecropia_

When I was a very small boy, I saw my father bring in from the orchard a
ragged looking thing like parchment wrapped up with some tangled hair;
it was really the bundle-baby of this Moth. He kept it all winter, and
when the spring came, I saw for the first time the great miracle of the
insect world--the rag bundle was split open, and out came this glorious
creature with wings of red and brown velvet, embroidered with silver and
spots that looked like precious stones. It seemed the rarest thing in
the world, but I have found out since, that it is one of our common
moths, and any of you can get one, if you take the trouble.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now listen, and you shall hear of what happened long ago to a green
crawler who was born to be a splendid Silk-Moth, but who spoiled it all
by a bad temper.

It had been a very cold, wet summer, and one day, when the wind was
whispering, he cried out: "Mother Carey, when I have done with my
working life, and go into the Great Sleep, grant that it may never rain
on me for I hate rain, and it has done nothing but pour all summer
long." And he shivered the red knobs on his head with peevishness.

"You silly little green crawler, don't you think I know better than you
what is good for you? Would you like there to be no rain?"

"Yes, I would," said the red-knobbed Samia rebelliously.

"Would _you_?" said the All-Mother to another green crawler, who hung on
a near-by limb.

"Mother Carey, we have had a wet, cold summer, and the rain has been
miserable, but I know you will take care of us."

"Good," said the All-Mother: "then, in this way it shall be. You little
Red-Knobs shall have what you so much wish, you shall hang up in a dry
loft where not a drop of dew even shall touch you in your bundle-baby
sleep. And you little Yellow-Knobs shall hang under a limb where every
rain that comes shall drench your outer skin." And she left them.

When the time came to hang up, Red-Knobs was led to a place as dry as
could be, under a shed and swung his bundle-baby hammock from the
rafters.

Yellow-Knobs hung up his hammock under a twig in the rose garden.

The winter passed, and the springtime came with the great awakening day.
Each of the bundle-babies awoke from his hammock and broke his bonds.
Each found his new wings, and set about shaking them out to full size
and shape. Those of the rain-baby came quickly to their proper form, and
away he flew to rejoice in perfect life. But though the other shook and
shook, his wings would not fluff out. They seemed dried up; they were
numbed and of stunted growth.

Shake as he would, the wings stayed small and twisted. And as he
struggled, a Butcher-bird came by. His fierce eye was drawn by the
fluttering purple thing. It had no power to escape. He tore its crumpled
wings from its feathery form, and made of it a meal. But before dying it
had time to say, "Oh, Mother Carey, now I know that your way was the
best."


TALE 30

The Green Fairy with the Long Train

Some fairies are Brownies and some are Greenies, and of all that really
and truly dance in the moonlight right here in America, Luna Greenie
seems the most wonderful; and this is her history:

Once upon a time there was a seed pearl that dropped from the robe of a
green fairy. It stuck on the leaf of a butternut tree till one warm day
Mother Carey, who knows all the wild things and loves them all, touched
it with her magic wand, called Hatch-awake, and out of the seed pearl
came an extraordinarily ugly little dwarf, crawling about on many legs.
He was just as greedy as he was ugly, and he ate leaf after leaf of the
butternut tree, and grew so fat that he burst his skin. Then a new skin
grew, and he kept on eating and bursting until he was quite big. But he
had also become wise and gentle; he had learned many things, and was not
quite so greedy now.

[Illustration: The Green Fairy With the Long Train (about 4/5 life
size)]

Mother Carey, the All-Mother, had been watching him, and knew that now
he was ready for the next step up. She told him to make himself a
hammock of rags and leaves, in the butternut tree. When he had crawled
into it, she touched him with her wand, the very same as the one she
used when she sent the Sleeping Beauty into her long sleep. Then that
little dwarf went soundly to sleep, hanging in his hammock.

Summer passed; autumn came; the leaves fell from the butternut tree,
taking the bundle-baby with them, exactly as in the old rhyme:

        Rock-a-bye baby on the tree-top,
        When the wind blows, your cradle will rock,
        When the cold weather makes all the leaves fall,
        Down tumbles baby and cradle and all.

But the hammock, with its sleeper, landed in a deep bed of leaves, and
lay there all winter, quite safe and warm.

Then when the springtime sun came over the hill, Mother Carey came
a-riding on the Warm Wind, and waving her wand. She stopped and kissed
the sleeping bundle-baby, just as the Prince kissed the Sleeping Beauty,
and instantly the baby awoke. Then happened the strangest thing. Out of
that ragged old hammock there came the most wonderful and beautiful
Green Fairy ever seen, with wings and with two trains; and as it came
out and looked shyly around, trembling with new life, Mother Carey
whispered, "Go to the butternut grove and see what awaits you there."

So away she went. Oh, how easy and glorious it is to fly! She could
remember how once she used to crawl everywhere. And through the soft
sweet night she flew, as she was told, straight to the butternut grove.
As she came near she saw many green fairies--a great crowd of
them--gathered in the moonlight, and dancing round and round in
fluttering circles, swooping about and chasing each other, or hiding in
the leaves. They did not feast, for these fairies never eat, and they
drink only honey from flowers. But there was a spirit of great joy over
them all. And there were some there with longer head plumes than those
she wore. They seemed stronger and one of them came with a glad greeting
to the new Green Dancer and though she flew away, she was bursting with
joy that he should single her out. He pursued her till he caught her,
and hand in hand they danced together in the moonlight. She was happier
than she had known it was possible to be, and danced all night--that
wonderful wedding dance. But she was very tired when morning was near,
and high in the tree she slept so soundly that she never noticed that
many seed pearls that were clustered on the lining of her robe had got
loose and rolled into the crevices of the trunk. There they lay until
Mother Carey came to touch them with her magic wand, so each became a
crawler-dwarf, then a bundle-baby, and at last a dancing fairy.

But the Green Dancer did not know that--she knew only that it was a
glorious thing to be alive, and fly, and to dance in the moonlight.

       *       *       *       *       *

You must never fail to watch under the butternut tree on mid-summer
nights, for it is quite possible that you may see the wedding dance of
the Luna Greenie and her sisters with the long-trained robes.


TALE 31

The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon

[Illustration: The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon]

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful little Yellow Dragon, who lived
a happy and innocent life on the high banks of a prattling stream. The
Dragon himself was dumb but he loved a merry noise, and nothing
pleased him more than the prattling of the water. Sometimes this
pleasant little Dragon went up stream, where it was noisy, and sometimes
he went down stream, where it was very silent, and rested awhile in
little pools. Here it was that he met with his first enemy, a warty
Hoptoad with jealous eyes. That Toad thought that he owned the pools
because he bathed there every springtime, and though it was a kind
little Dragon, the Toad hated him, and began to plot against him.

"Ho! little Yellow Dragon," he said, "you are very wonderful to see, and
you must be very clever; but you haven't got everything you want, have
you?"

The Dragon smiled, shook his head, and made silent signs with his lips.
Then the Toad understood, for he said: "Ho-ho, I understand that you
cannot speak. But are you happy?"

The Dragon smiled sweetly and nodded, then pointed to the stream.

That made the Toad madder than ever, for he thought it meant that the
Dragon was claiming the whole stream. So the Toad said: "See, Dragon,
there is a wonderful food that you have never tasted, that is a poached
egg."

This he said with his heart full of guile, for he knew full well that
poached eggs are deadly poison to Dragons.

The Dragon looked puzzled, and the Toad said, "Have you?"

The Dragon shook his head. "Well," said the Toad, "it is the most
delicious thing in the woods; now you wait and see."

He went hoppity-hop, to a sand-bank where he had seen a Turtle lay its
eggs that morning. He dug out one. He rolled it upon a stone, and split
it open with the sharp spur on his heel. As soon as it was stiffened by
the sun heat, he said, "Here now, Dragon, swallow it down, while I get
another for myself."

The poor innocent little Dragon did not know any better. He tried to
swallow the poached egg. The moment he did, it stuck in his throat, and
poisoned him. At once his toes sank into the ground. He turned green all
over, and his head was changed into a strange new flower. There it is to
this day, standing silently where it can hear the brook a-prattling. Its
body is green all over, and its head is yellow and its jaws are wide
open with a poached egg stuck in its throat. And that is how it all came
about. Some call it Toad Flax, and some call it Butter and Eggs, but we
who know how it happened call it the Dragon and the Poached Egg.

Poor dear little Yellow Dragon!


TALE 32

The Fairy Bird or the Humming-bird Moth

When I was a schoolboy, a number of my companions brought the news that
the strangest bird in the world had come that day to our garden and
hovered over the flowers. It was no bigger than a bumble-bee. "No! It
was not a humming-bird," they said, "it was smaller by far, much more
beautiful, and it came and went so fast that no one could see it go."

[Illustration: The Fairy Bird (1-1/2 life size)]

Every guess that I made seemed not to fit the wonderful bird, or help to
give it a name that would lead us to its history in the books. The
summer went by, several schoolmates saw the Wonderbird, and added
stories of its marvellous smallness and mysterious habits. Its body,
they said, was of green velvet with a satin-white throat; it had a
long beak--at least an inch long--a fan-tail of many feathers, two long
plumes from its head, "the littlest feet you ever have seen," and large
lustrous eyes that seemed filled with human intelligence. "It jest
looked right at you, and seemed like a fairy looking at you."