[Illustration: _Mr. Stork and Miss Heron (page 178)_]

 The Curious Book of Birds

 By Abbie Farwell Brown

 _With Illustrations_

 _By E. Boyd Smith_

 BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANYThe Riverside Press, Cambridge 1903

_Published October, 1903. _

_There are many books written nowadays which will tell you about birdsas folk of the twentieth century see them. They describe carefully thesinger's house, his habits, the number of his little wife's eggs, andthe color of every tiny feather on her pretty wings. But these bookstell you nothing at all about bird-history; about what birds have meantto all the generations of men, women, and children since the worldbegan. You would think, to read the words of the bird-book men, thatthey were the very first folk to see any bird, and that what they thinkthey have seen is the only matter worth the knowing. _

_Now the interesting facts about birds we have always with us. We canfind them out for ourselves, which is a very pleasant thing to do, or wecan take the word of others, of which there is no lack. But it is thequaint fancies about birds which are in danger of being lost. Thelong-time fancies which the world's children in all lands have beentaught are quite as important as the every-day facts. They show what thelittle feathered brothers have been to the children of men; how we havecome to like some and to dislike others as we do; why the poets havecalled them by certain nicknames which we ought to know; and why a greatmany strange things are so, in the minds of childlike people. _

_Facts are not what one looks for in a Curious Book. Yet it may be thatsome facts have crept in among the ancient fancies of this volume, justas bookworms will crawl into the nicest books; but they do not belongthere, and it is for these that the Book apologizes to the children. Ithas no apology to offer those grown folks who insist that facts, neverfancies, are what children need. _

CONTENTS

 PAGE

THE DISOBEDIENT WOODPECKER 1(_French_)

MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN 6(_Isle of Wight_)

THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH 14(_Roumanian_)

KING OF THE BIRDS 18(_Gascon_)

HALCYONE 27(_Greek_)

THE FORGETFUL KINGFISHER 33(_German_)

THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE 39(_French_)

HOW THE BLUEBIRD CROSSED 45(_Samoan_)

THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN 49(_Arabic, Malay_)

THE MASQUERADING CROW 59(_Russian_)

KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS 69(_Arabic_)

THE PIOUS ROBIN 81(_Breton, Basque, Greek_)

THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN 87(_Ojibway_)

THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN 94(_Roumanian_)

WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES 98(_French_)

MRS. PARTRIDGE'S BABIES 105(_Greek_)

THE EARLY GIRL 109(_Roumanian_)

HOW THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT 114(_French_)

THE BLACKBIRD AND THE FOX 124(_French_)

THE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH 127(_Welsh_)

THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE 132(_Greek_)

THE GROUND-PIGEON 138(_Malay_)

SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE 145(_Congo Negro_)

THE THRUSH AND THE CUCKOO 153(_Roumanian, German_)

THE OWL AND THE MOON 157(_Malay_)

THE TUFTED CAP 164(_Ainu, Japanese Islands_)

THE GOOD HUNTER 168(_Iroquois_)

THE COURTSHIP OF MR. STORK AND MISSHERON 176(_Russian_)

THE PHOENIX 184(_Egyptian_)

Seven of these tales appeared originally in _The Churchman_ and two in_The Congregationalist_. They are reprinted by the courteous permissionof the publishers of those magazines. 

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 PAGEMR. STORK AND MISS HERON (page 178) Frontispiece

"NEXT YOU MUST LAY A FEATHER" 10

SUCH A GORGEOUS COAT! 16

"BLESS ME!" HE EXCLAIMED, "WHOM HAVEWE HERE?" 64

HERE ARE SOME NICE FAT WIGGLY WORMS 106

HE MANAGED TO FLUTTER OUT OF REACH 126

"O BROTHER, DON'T!" 148

PUTRI BALAN BEGAN TO LAUGH 160

The Curious Book of Birds

 "Not you alone, proud truths of the world, Not you alone, ye facts of modern science, But myths and fables of eld, Asia's, Africa's fables. "

 _Whitman. _

The Curious Book of Birds

THE DISOBEDIENT WOODPECKER

Long, long ago, at the beginning of things, they say that the Lord madethe world smooth and round like an apple. There were no hills normountains: nor were there any hollows or valleys to hold the seas andrivers, fountains and pools, which the world of men would need. It must, indeed, have been a stupid and ugly earth in those days, with no chancefor swimming or sailing, rowing or fishing. But as yet there was no oneto think anything about it, no one who would long to swim, sail, row, and fish. For this was long before men were created. 

The Lord looked about Him at the flocks of newly made birds, who werepreening their wings and wondering at their own bright feathers, andsaid to Himself, --

"I will make these pretty creatures useful, from the very beginning, sothat in after time men shall love them dearly. Come, my birds, " Hecried, "come hither to me, and with the beaks which I have given youhollow me out _here_, and _here_, and _here_, basins for the lakes andpools which I intend to fill with water for men and for you, theirfriends. Come, little brothers, busy yourselves as you would wish to behappy hereafter. "

Then there was a twittering and fluttering as the good birds set to workwith a will, singing happily over the work which their dear Lord hadgiven them to do. They pecked and they pecked with their sharp littlebills; they scratched and they scratched with their sharp little claws, till in the proper places they had hollowed out great basins and valleysand long river beds, and little holes in the ground. 

Then the Lord sent great rains upon the earth until the hollows whichthe birds had made were filled with water, and so became rivers andlakes, little brooks and fountains, just as we see them to-day. Now itwas a beautiful, beautiful world, and the good birds sang happily andrejoiced in the work which they had helped, and in the sparkling waterwhich was sweet to their taste. 

All were happy except one. The Woodpecker had taken no part with theother busy birds. She was a lazy, disobedient creature, and when sheheard the Lord's commands she had only said, "Tut tut!" and sat still onthe branch where she had perched, preening her pretty feathers andadmiring her silver stockings. "You can toil if you want to, " she saidto the other birds who wondered at her, "but I shall do no such dirtywork. My clothes are too fine. "

Now when the world was quite finished and the beautiful water sparkledand glinted here and there, cool and refreshing, the Lord called thebirds to Him and thanked them for their help, praising them for theirindustry and zeal. But to the Woodpecker He said, --

"As for you, O Woodpecker, I observe that your feathers are unruffled bywork and that there is no spot of soil upon your beak and claws. How didyou manage to keep so neat?"

The Woodpecker looked sulky and stood upon one leg. 

"It is a good thing to be neat, " said the Lord, "but not if it comesfrom shirking a duty. It is good to be dainty, but not from laziness. Have you not worked with your brothers as I commanded you?"

"It was such very dirty work, " piped the Woodpecker crossly; "I wasafraid of spoiling my pretty bright coat and my silver shining hose. "

"Oh, vain and lazy bird!" said the Lord sadly. "Have you nothing to dobut show off your fine clothes and give yourself airs? You are no morebeautiful than many of your brothers, yet they all obeyed me willingly. Look at the snow-white Dove, and the gorgeous Bird of Paradise, and thepretty Grosbeak. They have worked nobly, yet their plumage is notinjured. I fear that you must be punished for your disobedience, littleWoodpecker. Henceforth you shall wear stockings of sooty black insteadof the shining silver ones of which you are so proud. You who were toofine to dig in the earth shall ever be pecking at dusty wood. And as youdeclined to help in building the water-basins of the world, so you shallnever sip from them when you are thirsty. Never shall you thrust beakinto lake or river, little rippling brook or cool, sweet fountain. Raindrops falling scantily from the leaves shall be your drink, and yourvoice shall be heard only when other creatures are hiding themselvesfrom the approaching storm. "

It was a sad punishment for the Woodpecker, but she certainly deservedit. Ever since that time, whenever we hear a little tap-tapping in thetree city, we know that it is the poor Woodpecker digging at the dustywood, as the Lord said she should do. And when we spy her, a dustylittle body with black stockings, clinging upright to the tree trunk, wesee that she is creeping, climbing, looking up eagerly toward the sky, longing for the rain to fall into her thirsty beak. She is always hopingfor the storm to come, and plaintively pipes, "_Plui-plui!_ Rain, ORain!" until the drops begin to patter on the leaves. 

MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN

Did you ever notice how different are the nests which the birds build inspringtime, in tree or bush or sandy bank or hidden in the grass? Someare wonderfully wrought, pretty little homes for birdikins. But othersare clumsy, and carelessly fastened to the bough, most unsafe cradlesfor the feathered baby on the treetop. Sometimes after a heavy wind youfind on the ground under the nest poor little broken eggs which rolledout and lost their chance of turning into birds with safe, safe wings oftheir own. Now such sad things as this happen because in their youth thelazy father and mother birds did not learn their lesson when MotherMagpie had her class in nest-making. The clumsiest nest of all is thatwhich the Wood-Pigeon tries to build. Indeed, it is not a nest at all, only the beginning of one. And there is an old story about this, which Ishall tell you. 

In the early springtime of the world, when birds were first made, noneof them--except Mother Magpie--knew how to build a nest. In that lovelygarden where they lived the birds went fluttering about trying their newwings, so interested in this wonderful game of flying that they forgotall about preparing a home for the baby birds who were to come. When thetime came to lay their eggs the parents knew not what to do. There wasno place safe from the four-legged creatures who cannot fly, and theybegan to twitter helplessly: "Oh, how I wish I had a nice warm nest formy eggs!" "Oh, what shall we do for a home?" "Dear me! I don't knowanything about housekeeping. " And the poor silly things ruffled up theirfeathers and looked miserable as only a little bird can look when it isunhappy. 

All except Mother Magpie! She was not the best--oh, no!--but she was thecleverest and wisest of all the birds; it seemed as if she kneweverything that a bird could know. Already she had found out a way, andwas busily building a famous nest for herself. She was indeed a cleverbird! She gathered turf and sticks, and with clay bound them firmlytogether in a stout elm tree. About her house she built a fence ofthorns to keep away the burglar birds who had already begun mischiefamong their peaceful neighbors. Thus she had a snug and cosy dwellingfinished before the others even suspected what she was doing. She poppedinto her new house and sat there comfortably, peering out through thewindow-slits with her sharp little eyes. And she saw the other birdshopping about and twittering helplessly. 

"What silly birds they are!" she croaked. "Ha, ha! What would they notgive for a nest like mine!"

But presently a sharp-eyed Sparrow spied Mother Magpie sitting in hernest. 

"Oho! Look there!" he cried. "Mother Magpie has found a way. Let us askher to teach us. "

Then all the other birds chirped eagerly, "Yes, yes! Let us ask her toteach us!"

So, in a great company, they came fluttering, hopping, twittering up tothe elm tree where Mother Magpie nestled comfortably in her new house. 

"O wise Mother Magpie, dear Mother Magpie, " they cried, "teach us how tobuild our nests like yours, for it is growing night, and we are tiredand sleepy. "

The Magpie said she would teach them if they would be a patient, diligent, obedient class of little birds. And they all promised thatthey would. 

She made them perch about her in a great circle, some on the lowerbranches of the trees, some on the bushes, and some on the ground amongthe grass and flowers. And where each bird perched, there it was tobuild its nest. Then Mother Magpie found clay and bits of twigs and mossand grass--everything a bird could need to build a nest; and there isscarcely anything you can think of which some bird would not find veryuseful. When these things were all piled up before her she told everybird to do just as she did. It was like a great big kindergarten ofbirds playing at a new building game, with Mother Magpie for theteacher. 

She began to show them how to weave the bits of things together intonests, as they should be made. And some of the birds, who were attentiveand careful, soon saw how it was done, and started nice homes forthemselves. You have seen what wonderful swinging baskets the Oriolemakes for his baby-cradle? Well, it was the Magpie who taught him how, and he was the prize pupil, to be sure. But some of the birds were notlike him, nor like the patient little Wren. Some of them were lazy andstupid and envious of Mother Magpie's cosy nest, which was alreadyfinished, while theirs was yet to do. 

As Mother Magpie worked, showing them how, it seemed so very simple thatthey were ashamed not to have discovered it for themselves. So, as shewent on bit by bit, the silly things pretended that they had known allabout it from the first--which was very unpleasant for their teacher. 

Mother Magpie took two sticks in her beak and began like this: "First ofall, my friends, you must lay two sticks crosswise for a foundation, thus, " and she placed them carefully on the branch before her. 

"Oh yes, oh yes!" croaked old Daddy Crow, interrupting her rudely. "Ithought that was the way to begin. "

Mother Magpie snapped her eyes at him and went on, "Next you must lay afeather on a bit of moss, to start the walls. "

"Certainly, of course, " screamed the Jackdaw. "I knew that came next. That is what I told the Parrot but a moment since. "

Mother Magpie looked at him impatiently, but she did not say anything. "Then, my friends, you must place on your foundation moss, hair, feathers, sticks, and grass--whatever you choose for your house. Youmust place them like _this_. "

"Yes, yes, " cried the Starling, "sticks and grass, every one knows howto do that! Of course, of course! Tell us something new. "

[Illustration: _"Next you must lay a feather"_]

Now Mother Magpie was very angry, but she kept on with her lesson inspite of these rude and silly interruptions. She turned toward theWood-Pigeon, who was a rattle-pated young thing, and who was not havingany success with the sticks which she was trying to place. 

"Here, Wood-Pigeon, " said Mother Magpie, "you must place those sticksthrough and across, criss-cross, criss-cross, _so_. "

"Criss-cross, criss-cross, so, " interrupted the Wood-Pigeon. "I know. That will do-o-o, that will do-o-o!"

Mother Magpie hopped up and down on one leg, so angry she could hardlycroak. 

"You silly Pigeon, " she sputtered, "not _so_. You are spoiling yournest. Place the sticks _so_!"

"I know, I know! That will do-o-o, that will do-o-o!" cooed theWood-Pigeon obstinately in her soft, foolish little voice, withoutpaying the least attention to Mother Magpie's directions. 

"We all know that--anything more?" chirped the chorus of birds, tryingto conceal how anxious they were to know what came next, for the nestswere only half finished. 

But Mother Magpie was thoroughly disgusted, and refused to go on withthe lesson which had been so rudely interrupted by her pupils. 

"You are all so wise, friends, " she said, "that surely you do not needany help from me. You say you know all about it, --then go on and finishyour nests by yourselves. Much luck may you have!" And away she flew toher own cosy nest in the elm tree, where she was soon fast asleep, forgetting all about the matter. 

But oh! What a pickle the other birds were in! The lesson was but halffinished, and most of them had not the slightest idea what to do next. That is why to this day many of the birds have never learned to build aperfect nest. Some do better than others, but none build like MotherMagpie. 

But the Wood-Pigeon was in the worst case of them all. For she had onlythe foundation laid criss-cross as the Magpie had shown her. And so, ifyou find in the woods the most shiftless, silly kind of nest that youcan imagine--just a platform of sticks laid flat across a branch, withno railing to keep the eggs from rolling out, no roof to keep the rainfrom soaking in--when you see that foolishness, you will know that it isthe nest of little Mistress Wood-Pigeon, who was too stupid to learn thelesson which Mother Magpie was ready to teach. 

And the queerest part of all is that the birds blamed the Magpie for thewhole matter, and have never liked her since. But, as you may havefound out for yourselves, that is often the fate of wise folk who makediscoveries or who do things better than others. 

THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH

The Goldfinch who lives in Europe is one of the gaudiest of the littlefeathered brothers. He is a very Joseph of birds in his coat of manycolors, and folk often wonder how he came to have feathers so much moregorgeous than his kindred. But after you have read this tale you willwonder no longer. 

You must know that when the Father first made all the birds they weredressed alike in plumage of sober gray. But this dull uniform pleasedHim no more than it did the birds themselves, who begged that they mightwear each the particular style which was most becoming, and by whichthey could be recognized afar. 

So the Father called the birds to Him, one by one, as they stood inline, and dipping His brush in the rainbow color-box painted eachappropriately in the colors which it wears to-day. (Except, indeed, thatsome had later adventures which altered their original hues, as youshall hear in due season. )

But the Goldfinch did not come with the other birds. That tardy littlefellow was busy elsewhere on his own affairs and heeded not the Father'scommand to fall in line and wait his turn for being made beautiful. 

So it happened that not until the painting was finished and all thebirds had flown away to admire themselves in the water-mirrors of theearth, did the Goldfinch present himself at the Father's feet out ofbreath. 

"O Father!" he panted, "I am late. But I was so busy! Pray forgive meand permit me to have a pretty coat like the others. "

"You are late indeed, " said the Father reproachfully, "and all thecoloring has been done. You should have come when I bade you. Do you notknow that it is the prompt bird who fares best? My rainbow color-box hasbeen generously used, and I have but little of each tint left. Yet Iwill paint you with the colors that I have, and if the result be ill youhave only yourself to blame. "

The Father smiled gently as He took up the brush which He had laid down, and dipped it in the first color which came to hand. This He used untilthere was no more, when He began with another shade, and so continueduntil the Goldfinch was completely colored from head to foot. Such agorgeous coat! His forehead and throat were of the most brilliantcrimson. His cap and sailor collar were black. His back was brown andyellow, his breast white, his wings golden set off with velvet black, and his tail was black with white-tipped feathers. Certainly there wasno danger of his being mistaken for any other bird. 

When the Goldfinch looked down into a pool and saw the reflection of hisgorgeous coat, he burst out into a song of joy. "I like it, oh, I likeit!" he warbled, and his song was very sweet. "Oh, I am glad that I waslate, indeed I am, dear Father!"

But the kind Father sighed and shook His head as He put away the brush, exclaiming, "Poor little Goldfinch! You are indeed a beautiful bird. ButI fear that the gorgeous coat which you wear, and which is the best thatI could give you, because you came so late, will cause you more sorrowthan joy. Because of it you will be chased and captured and kept incaptivity; and your life will be spent in mourning for the days when youwere a plain gray bird. "

And so it happened. For to this day the Goldfinch is persecuted by humanfolk who admire his wonderful plumage and his beautiful song. He iskept captive in a cage, while his less gorgeous brothers fly freely inthe beautiful world out of doors. 

[Illustration: _Such a gorgeous coat!_]

KING OF THE BIRDS

Once upon a time, when the world was very new and when the birds hadjust learned from Mother Magpie how to build their nests, some one said, "We ought to have a king. Oh, we need a king of the birds very much!"

For you see, already in the Garden of Birds trouble had begun. Therewere disputes every morning as to which was the earliest bird who wasentitled to the worm. There were quarrels over the best places fornest-building and over the fattest bug or beetle; and there was no oneto settle these difficulties. Moreover, the robber birds were growingtoo bold, and there was no one to rule and punish them. There was nodoubt about it; the birds needed a king to keep them in order and peace. 

So the whisper went about, "We must have a king. Whom shall we choosefor our king?"

They decided to hold a great meeting for the election. And because theespecial talent of a bird is for flying, they agreed that the bird whocould fly highest up into the blue sky, straight toward the sun, shouldbe their king, king of all the feathered tribes of the air. 

Therefore, after breakfast one beautiful morning, the birds met in thegarden to choose their king. All the birds were there, from the largestto the smallest, chirping, twittering, singing on every bush and treeand bit of dry grass, till the noise was almost as great as nowadays atan election of two-legged folk without feathers. They swooped down ingreat clouds, till the sky was black with them, and they were dotted onthe grass like punctuation marks on a green page. There were so manythat not even wise Mother Magpie or old Master Owl could count them, andthey all talked at the same time, like ladies at an afternoon tea, whichwas very confusing. 

Little Robin Redbreast was there, hopping about and saying pleasantthings to every one, for he was a great favorite. Gorgeous Goldfinch wasthere, in fine feather; and little Blackbird, who was then as white assnow. There were the proud Peacock and the silly Ostrich, the awkwardPenguin and the Dodo, whom no man living has ever seen. Likewise therewere the Jubjub Bird and the Dinky Bird, and many other curiousvarieties that one never finds described in the wise Bird Books, --whichis very strange, and sad, too, I think. Yes, all the birds were therefor the choosing of their king, both the birds who could fly, and thosewho could not. (But for what were they given wings, if not to fly? Howsilly an Ostrich must feel!)

Now the Eagle expected to be king. He felt sure that he could fly higherthan any one else. He sat apart on a tall pine tree, looking verydignified and noble, as a future king should look. And the birds glancedat one another, nodded their heads, and whispered, "He is sure to beelected king. He can fly straight up toward the sun without winking, andhis great wings are so strong, so strong! He never grows tired. He issure to be king. "

Thus they whispered among themselves, and the Eagle heard them, and waspleased. But the little brown Wren heard also, and he was not pleased. The absurd little bird! He wanted to be king himself, although he wasone of the tiniest birds there, who could never be a protector to theothers, nor stop trouble when it began. No, indeed! Fancy him steppingas a peacemaker between a robber Hawk and a bloody Falcon. It was theywho would make pieces of him. But he was a conceited little creature, and saw no reason why he should not make a noble sovereign. 

"I am cleverer than the Eagle, " he said to himself, "though he is somuch bigger. I will be king in spite of him. Ha-ha! We shall see what weshall see!" For the Wren had a great idea in his wee little head--anidea bigger than the head itself, if you can explain how that could be. He ruffled up his feathers to make himself as huge as possible, andhopped over to the branch where the Eagle was sitting. 

"Well, Eagle, " said the Wren pompously, "I suppose you expect to beking, eh?"

The Eagle stared hard at him with his great bright eyes. "Well, if I do, what of that?" he said. "Who will dispute me?"

"I shall, " said the Wren, bobbing his little brown head and wrigglinghis tail saucily. 

"You!" said the Eagle. "Do _you_ expect to fly higher than I?"

"Yes, " chirped the Wren, "I do. Yes, I do, do, do!"

"Ho!" said the Eagle scornfully. "I am big and strong and brave. I canfly higher than the clouds. You, poor little thing, are no bigger than abean. You will be out of breath before we have gone twice this tree'sheight. "

"Little as I am, I can mount higher than you, " said the Wren. 

"What will you wager, Wren?" asked the Eagle. "What will you give me ifI win?"

"If you win you will be king, " said the Wren. "But beside that, if youwin I will give you my fat little body to eat for your breakfast. But ifI win, Sir, I shall be king, and you must promise never, never, never, to hurt me or any of my people. "

"Very well. I promise, " said the Eagle haughtily. "Come now, it is timefor the trial, you poor little foolish creature. "

The birds were flapping their wings and singing eagerly, "Let usbegin--begin. We want to see who is to be king. Come, birds, to thetrial. Who can fly the highest? Come!"

Then the Eagle spread his great wings and mounted leisurely into theair, straight toward the noonday sun. And after him rose a number ofother birds who wanted to be king, --the wicked Hawk, the bold Albatross, and the Skylark singing his wonderful song. The long-legged Storkstarted also, but that was only for a joke. "Fancy me for a king!" hecried, and he laughed so that he had to come down again in a minute. Butthe Wren was nowhere to be seen. The truth was, he had hopped ever solightly upon the Eagle's head, where he sat like a tiny crest. But theEagle did not know he was there. 

Soon the Hawk and the Albatross and even the brave little Skylark fellbehind, and the Eagle began to chuckle to himself at his easy victory. "Where are you, poor little Wren?" he cried very loudly, for he fanciedthat the tiny bird must be left far, far below. 

"Here I am, here I am, away up above you, Master Eagle!" piped the Wrenin a weak little voice. And the Eagle fancied the Wren was so far up inthe air that even his sharp eyes could not spy the tiny creature. "Dearme!" said he to himself. "How extraordinary that he has passed me. " Sohe redoubled his speed and flew on, higher, higher. 

Presently he called out again in a tremendous voice, "Well, where areyou now? Where are you now, poor little Wren?"

Once more he heard the tiny shrill voice from somewhere above piping, "Here I am, here I am, nearer the sun than you, Master Eagle. Will yougive up now?"

Of course the Eagle would not give up yet. He flew on, higher andhigher, till the garden and its flock of patient birds waiting for theirking grew dim and blurry below. And at last even the mighty wings of theEagle were weary, for he was far above the clouds. "Surely, " he thought, "now the Wren is left miles behind. " He gave a scream of triumph andcried, "Where are you now, poor little Wren? Can you hear me at all, down below there?"

But what was his amazement to hear the same little voice above his headshrilling, "Here I am, here I am, Sir Eagle. Look up and see me, look!"And there, sure enough, he was fluttering above the Eagle's head. "Andnow, since I have mounted so much higher than you, will you agree that Ihave won?"

"Yes, you have won, little Wren. Let us descend together, for I am wearyenough, " cried the Eagle, much mortified; and down he swooped, on heavy, discouraged wings. 

"Yes, let us descend together, " murmured the Wren, once more perchingcomfortably on the Eagle's head. And so down he rode on this convenientelevator, which was the first one invented in this world. 

When the Eagle nearly reached the ground, the other birds set up a cryof greeting. 

"Hail, King Eagle!" they sang. "How high you flew! How near the sun! Didhe not scorch your Majesty's feathers? Hail, mighty king!" and they madea deafening chorus. But the Eagle stopped them. 

"The Wren is your king, not I, " he said. "He mounted higher than I did. "

"The Wren? Ha-ha! The _Wren_! We can't believe that The Wren flewhigher than you? No, no!" they all shouted. But just then the Eaglelighted on a tree, and from the top of his head hopped the little Wren, cocking his head and ruffling himself proudly. 

"Yes, I mounted higher than he, " he cried, "for I was perched on hishead all the while, ha-ha! And now, therefore, I am king, small though Ibe. "

Now the Eagle was very angry when he saw the trick that had been playedupon him, and he swooped upon the sly Wren to punish him. But the Wrenscreamed, "Remember, remember your promise never to injure me or mine!"Then the Eagle stopped, for he was a noble bird and never forgot apromise. He folded his wings and turned away in disgust. 

"Be king, then, O cheat and trickster!" he said. 

"Cheat and trickster!" echoed the other birds. "We will have no suchfellow for our king. Cheat and trickster he is, and he shall bepunished. You shall be king, brave Eagle, for without your strength hecould never have flown so high. It is you whom we want for ourprotector and lawmaker, not this sly fellow no bigger than a bean. "

So the Eagle became their king, after all; and a noble bird he is, asyou must understand, or he would never have been chosen to guard ournation's coat of arms. And besides this you may see his picture on manya banner and crest and coin of gold or silver, so famous has he become. 

But the Wren was to be punished. And while the birds were trying todecide what should be done with him, they put him in prison in amouse-hole and set Master Owl to guard the door. Now while the judgeswere putting their heads together the lazy Owl fell fast asleep, and outof prison stole the little Wren and was far away before any one couldcatch him. So he was never punished after all, as he richly deserved tobe. 

The birds were so angry with old Master Owl for his carelessness that hehas never since dared to show his face abroad in daytime, but hides awayin his hollow tree. And only at night he wanders alone in the woods, sorry and ashamed. 

HALCYONE

The story of the first Kingfisher is a sad one, and you need not read itunless for a very little while you wish to feel sorry. 

Long, long ago when the world was new, there lived a beautiful princessnamed Halcyone. She was the daughter of old Æolus, King of the Winds, and lived with him on his happy island, where it was his chief businessto keep in order the four boisterous brothers, Boreas, the North Wind, Zephyrus, the West Wind, Auster, the South Wind, and Eurus, the EastWind. Sometimes, indeed, Æolus had a hard time of it; for the Windswould escape from his control and rush out upon the sea for theirterrible games, which were sure to bring death and destruction to thesailors and their ships. Knowing them so well, for she had grown up withthese rough playmates, Halcyone came to dread more than anything elsethe cruelties which they practiced at every opportunity. 

One day the Prince Ceyx came to the island of King Æolus. He was the sonof Hesperus, the Evening Star, and he was the king of the great land ofThessaly. Ceyx and Halcyone grew to love each other dearly, and at lastwith the consent of good King Æolus, but to the wrath of the four Winds, the beautiful princess went away to be the wife of Ceyx and Queen ofThessaly. 

For a long time they lived happily in their peaceful kingdom, butfinally came a day when Ceyx must take a long voyage on the sea, tovisit a temple in a far country. Halcyone could not bear to have him go, for she feared the dangers of the great deep, knowing well the crueltyof the Winds, whom King Æolus had such difficulty in keeping withinbounds. She knew how the mischievous brothers loved to rush down uponventuresome sailors and blow them into danger, and she knew that theyespecially hated her husband because he had carried her away from theisland where she had watched the Winds at their terrible play. Shebegged Ceyx not to go, but he said that it was necessary. Then sheprayed that if he must go he would take her with him, for she could notbear to remain behind dreading what might happen. 

But Ceyx was resolved that Halcyone should not go. The good king longedto take her with him; no more than she could he smile at the thought ofseparation. But he also feared the sea, not on his own account, but forhis dear wife. In spite of her entreaties he remained firm. If all wentwell he promised to return in two months' time. But Halcyone knew thatshe should never see him again as now he spoke. 

The day of separation came. Standing heart-broken upon the shore, Halcyone watched the vessel sail away into the East, until as a littlespeck it dropped below the horizon; then sobbing bitterly she returnedto the palace. 

Now the king and his men had completed but half their journey when aterrible storm arose. The wicked Winds had escaped from the control ofgood old Æolus and were rushing down upon the ocean to punish Ceyx forcarrying away the beautiful Halcyone. Fiercely they blew, the lightningflashed, and the sea ran high; and in the midst of the horrible tumultthe good ship went to the bottom with all on board. Thus the fears ofHalcyone were proved true, and far from his dear wife poor Ceyx perishedin the cruel waves. 

That very night when the shipwreck occurred, the sad and fearfulHalcyone, sleeping lonely at home, knew in a dream the very calamitywhich had happened. She seemed to see the storm and the shipwreck, andthe form of Ceyx appeared, saying a sad farewell to her. As soon as itwas light she rose and hastened to the seashore, trembling with ahorrible dread. Standing on the very spot whence she had last seen thefated ship, she looked wistfully over the waste of stormy waters. Atlast she spied a dark something tossing on the waves. The object floatednearer and nearer, until a huge breaker cast before her on the sand thebody of her drowned husband. 

"O dearest Ceyx!" she cried. "Is it thus that you return to me?"Stretching out her arms toward him, she leaped upon the sea wall as ifshe would throw herself into the ocean, which advanced and retreated, seething around his body. But a different fate was to be hers. As sheleaped forward two strong wings sprouted from her shoulders, and beforeshe knew it she found herself skimming lightly as a bird over the water. From her throat came sounds of sobbing, which changed as she flew intothe shrill piping of a bird. Soft feathers now covered her body, and acrest rose above the forehead which had once been so fair. Halcyone wasbecome a Kingfisher, the first Kingfisher who ever flew lamenting abovethe waters of the world. 

The sad bird fluttered through the spray straight to the body that wastossed upon the surf. As her wings touched the wet shoulders, and as herhorny beak sought the dumb lips in an attempt to kiss what was once sodear, the body of Ceyx began to receive new life. The limbs stirred, afaint color returned to the cheeks. At the same moment a change likethat which had transformed Halcyone began to pass over her husband. Hetoo was becoming a Kingfisher. He too felt the thrill of wings upon hisshoulders, wings which were to bear him up and away out of the sea whichhad been his death. He too was clad in soft plumage with a kingly crestupon his kingly head. With a faint cry, half of sorrow for what hadhappened, half of joy for the future in which these two loving ones wereat least to be together, Ceyx rose from the surf-swept sand where hislifeless limbs had lain and went skimming over the waves beside Halcyonehis wife. 

So those unhappy mortals became the first kingfishers, happy at last inbeing reunited. So we see them still, flying up and down over the watersof the world, royal forms with royal crests upon their heads. 

They built their nest of the bones of fish, a stout and well-joinedbasket which floated on the waves as safely as any little boat. Andwhile their children, the baby Halcyons, lay in this rocking cradle, forseven days in the heart of winter, no storms ever troubled the oceanand mariners could set out upon their voyages without fear. 

For while his little grandchildren rocked in their basket, the good KingÆolus, pitying the sorrows of his daughter Halcyone, was alwaysespecially careful to chain up in prison those wicked brothers theWinds, so that they could do no mischief of any kind. 

And that is why a halcyon time has come to mean a season of peace andsafety. 

THE FORGETFUL KINGFISHER

In these days the Kingfisher is a sad and solitary bird, caring not toventure far from the water where she finds her food. Up and down theriver banks she goes, uttering a peculiar plaintive cry. What is shesaying, and why is she so restless? The American Kingfisher is gray, buther cousin of Europe is a bird of brilliant azure with a breast of rustyred. Therefore it must have been the foreign Kingfisher who wasforgetful, as you shall hear. 

Long, long after the sorrows of Halcyone, the first Kingfisher, wereended, came the great storm which lasted forty days and forty nights, causing the worst flood which the world has ever known. That was aterrible time. When Father Noah hastened to build his ark, inviting theanimals and birds to take refuge with him, the Kingfisher herself wasglad to go aboard. For even she, protected by Æolus from the fury ofwinds and waters, was not safe while there was no place in all the worldfor her to rest foot and weary wing. So the Kingfisher fluttered in withthe other birds and animals, a strange company! And there they livedall together, Noah and his arkful of pets, for many weary days, whilethe waters raged and the winds howled outside, and all the earth wascovered fathoms deep out of sight below the waves. 

But after long weeks the storm ceased, and Father Noah opened the littlewindow in the ark and sent forth the Dove to see whether or not therewas land visible on which the ark might find rest. Now after he had sentout the Dove, Noah looked about him at the other birds and animals whichcrowded around him eagerly, for they were growing very restless fromtheir long confinement, and he said, "Which of you is bravest, and willdare follow our friend the Dove out into the watery world? Ah, here isthe Kingfisher. Little mother, you at least, reared among the winds andwaters, will not be afraid. Take wing, O Kingfisher, and see if theearth be visible. Then return quickly and bring me faithful word of whatyou find out yonder. "

Day was just beginning to dawn when the Kingfisher, who was then as grayas gray, flew out from the little window of the ark whence the Dove hadpreceded her. But hardly had she left the safe shelter of Father Noah'sfloating home, when there came a tremendous whirlwind which blew herabout and buffeted her until she was almost beaten into the waves, which rolled endlessly over the face of the whole earth, covering thehigh hills and the very mountains. The Kingfisher was greatlyfrightened. She could not go back into the ark, for the little windowwas closed, and there was no land anywhere on which she could takerefuge. Just think for a moment what a dreadful situation it was! Therewas nothing for her to do but to fly up, straight up, out of reach fromthe tossing waves and dashing spray. 

The Kingfisher was fresh and vigorous, and her wings were strong andpowerful, for she had been resting long days in the quiet ark, eatingthe provisions which Father Noah had thoughtfully prepared for his manyguests. So up, up she soared, above the very clouds, on into the blueether which lies beyond. And lo! as she did so, her sober gray dressbecame a brilliant blue, the color caught from the azure of those clearheights. Higher and higher she flew, feeling so free and happy after herlong captivity, that she quite forgot Father Noah and the errand uponwhich she had been sent. Up and up she went, higher than the sun, untilat last she saw him rising far beneath her, a beautiful ball of fire, more dazzling, more wonderful than she had ever guessed. 

"Hola!" she cried, beside herself with joy at the sight. "There is thedear sun, whom I have not seen for many days. And how near, howbeautiful he is! I will fly closer still, now that I have come so near. I will observe him in all his splendor, as no other bird, not even thehigh-flying, sharp-eyed Eagle, has ever seen him. "

And with that the foolish Kingfisher turned her course downward, withsuch mad, headlong speed that she had scarcely time to feel whatterrible, increasing heat shot from the sun's rays, until she was soclose upon him that it was too late to escape. Oh, but that was adreadful moment! The feathers on her poor little breast were scorchedand set afire, and she seemed in danger not only of spoiling herbeautiful new blue dress but of being burned into a wretched littlecinder. Horribly frightened at her danger, the Kingfisher turned oncemore, but this time toward the rolling waters which covered the earth. Down, down she swooped, until with the hiss of burning feathers shesplashed into the cold wetness, putting out the fire which threatened toconsume her. Once, twice, thrice, she dipped into the grateful coolness, flirting the drops from her blue plumage, now alas! sadly scorched. 

When the pain of her burns was somewhat relieved she had time to thinkwhat next she should do. She longed for rest, for refuge, for FatherNoah's gentle, caressing hand to which she had grown accustomed duringthose stormy weeks of companionship in the ark. But where was FatherNoah? Where was the ark? On all the rolling sea of water there was nomovement of life, no sign of any human presence. Then the Kingfisherremembered her errand, and how carelessly she had performed it. She hadbeen bidden to return quickly; but she had wasted many hours--she couldnot tell how many--in her forgetful flight. And now she was to bepunished indeed, if she could not find her master and the ark of refuge. 

The poor Kingfisher looked wildly about. She fluttered here and there, backward and forward, over the weary stretch of waves, crying piteouslyfor her master. He did not answer; there was no ark to be found. The sunset and the night came on, but still she sought eagerly from east towest, from north to south, always in vain. She could never find what shehad so carelessly lost. 

The truth is that during her absence the Dove, who had done her errandfaithfully, returned at last with the olive leaf which told of one spotupon the earth's surface at last uncovered by the waves. Then the ark, blown hither and thither by the same storm which had driven theKingfisher to fly upward into the ether-blue, had drifted far and farto Mount Ararat, where it ran aground. And Father Noah, disembarkingwith his family and all the assembled animals, had broken up the ark, intending there to build him a house out of the materials from which itwas made. But this was many, many leagues from the place where the poorKingfisher, lonely and frightened, hovered about, crying piteously forher master. 

And even when the waters dried away, uncovering the earth in manyplaces, so that the Kingfisher could alight and build herself a nest, she was never happy nor content, but to this day flies up and down thewater-ways of the world piping sadly, looking eagerly for her dearmaster and for some traces of the ark which sheltered her. And thereflection which she makes in the water below shows an azure-blue body, like a reflection of the sky above, with some of the breast-feathersscorched to a rusty red. And now you know how it all came about. 

THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE

Centuries and centuries ago, when men were first made, there was no suchthing as fire known in all the world. Folk had no fire with which tocook their food, and so they were obliged to eat it raw; which was veryunpleasant, as you may imagine! There were no cheery fireplaces aboutwhich to sit and tell stories, or make candy or pop corn. There was nolight in the darkness at night except the sun and moon and stars. Therewere not even candles in those days, to say nothing of gas lamps orelectric lights. It is strange to think of such a world where even thegrown folks, like the children and the birds, had to go to bed at dusk, because there was nothing else to do. 

But the little birds, who lived nearer heaven than men, knew of the firein the sun, and knew also what a fine thing it would be for the tribeswithout feathers if they could have some of the magic element. 

One day the birds held a solemn meeting, when it was decided that menmust have fire. Then some one must fly up to the sun and bring afirebrand thence. Who would undertake this dangerous errand? Already bysad experience the Kingfisher had felt the force of the sun's heat, while the Eagle and the Wren, in the famous flight which they had takentogether, had learned the same thing. The assembly of birds looked atone another, and there was a silence. 

"I dare not go, " said the Kingfisher, trembling at the idea; "I havebeen up there once, and the warning I received was enough to last me forsome time. "

"I cannot go, " said the Peacock, "for my plumage is too precious torisk. "

"I ought not to go, " said the Lark, "for the heat might injure my prettyvoice. "

"I must not go, " said the Stork, "for I have promised to bring a baby tothe King's palace this evening. "

"I cannot go, " said the Dove, "for I have a nestful of little ones whodepend upon me for food. "

"Nor I, " said the Sparrow, "for I am afraid. " "Nor I!" "Nor I!" "Nor I!"echoed the other birds. 

"I _will_ not go, " croaked the Owl, "for I simply do not wish to. "

Then up spoke the little Wren, who had been keeping in the backgroundof late, because he was despised for his attempt to deceive the birdsinto electing him their king. 

"I will go, " said the Wren. "I will go and bring fire to men. I am oflittle use here. No one loves me. Every one despises me because of thetrick which I played the Eagle, our King. No one will care if I aminjured in the attempt. I will go and try. "

"Bravely spoken, little friend, " said the Eagle kindly. "I myself wouldgo but that I am the King, and kings must not risk the lives upon whichhangs the welfare of their people. Go you, little Wren, and if you aresuccessful you will win back the respect of your brothers which you haveforfeited. "

The brave little bird set out upon his errand without further words. Andweak and delicate though he was, he flew and he flew up and up sosturdily that at last he reached the sun, whence he plucked a firebrandand bore it swiftly in his beak back toward the earth. Like a fallingstar the bright speck flashed through the air, drawing ever nearer andnearer to the cool waters of Birdland and the safety which awaited himthere. The other birds gathered in a flock about their king andanxiously watched the Wren's approach. 

Suddenly the Robin cried out, "Alas! He burns! He has caught fire!" Andoff darted the faithful little friend to help the Wren. Sure enough, aspark from the blazing brand had fallen upon the plumage of the Wren, and his poor little wings were burning as he fluttered piteously down, still holding the fire in his beak. 

The Robin flew up to him and said, "Well done, brother! You havesucceeded. Now give me the fire and I will relieve you while you dropinto the lake below us to quench the flame which threatens your life. "

So the Robin in his turn seized the firebrand in his beak and starteddown with it. But, like the Wren, he too was soon fluttering in theblaze of his own burning plumage, a little living firework, fallingtoward the earth. 

Then up came the Lark, who had been watching the two unselfish birds. "Give me the brand, brother Robin, " she cried, "for your pretty feathersare all ablaze and your life is in danger. "

So it was the Lark who finally brought the fire safely to the earth andgave it to mankind. But the Robin and the Wren, when they had put outthe flame which burned their feathers, appeared in the assembly of thebirds, and were greeted with great applause as the heroes of the day. The Robin's breast was scorched a brilliant red, but the poor, bravelittle Wren was wholly bare of plumage. All his pretty feathers had beenburned away, and he stood before them shivering and piteous. 

"Bravo! little Wren, " cried King Eagle. "A noble deed you have done thisday, and nobly have you won back the respect of your brother birds andearned the everlasting gratitude of men. Now what shall we do to helpyou in your sorry plight?" After a moment's thought he turned to theother birds and said, "Who will give a feather to help patch a coveringfor our brave friend?"

"I!" and "I!" and "I!" and "I!" chorused the generous birds. And in turneach came forward with a plume or a bit of down from his breast. TheRobin first, who had shared his peril, brought a feather sadly scorched, but precious; the Lark next, who had helped in the time of need. TheEagle bestowed a kingly feather, the Thrush, the Nightingale, --everybird contributed except the Owl. 

But the selfish Owl said, "I see no reason why I should give a feather. Hoot! No! The Wren brought me into trouble once, and I will not help himnow. Let him go bare, for all my aid. "

"Shame! Shame!" cried the birds indignantly. "Old Master Owl, you oughtto be ashamed. But if you are so selfish we will not have you in oursociety. Go back to your hollow tree!"

"Yes, go back to your hollow tree, " cried the Eagle sternly; "and whenwinter comes may you shiver with cold as you would have left the bravelittle Wren to shiver this day. You shall ruffle your feathers as muchas you like, but you will always feel cold at heart, because your heartis selfish. "

And indeed, since that day for all his feathers the Owl has never beenable to keep warm enough in his lonely hollow tree. 

But the Wren became one of the happiest of all the birds, and a favoriteboth with his feathered brothers and with men, because of his bravedeed, and because of the great fire-gift which he had brought from thesun. 

HOW THE BLUEBIRD CROSSED

Of course every one knows that the Bluebird was made from a piece of theazure sky itself. One has only to match his wonderful color against theApril heaven to be sure of that. Therefore the little Bluebird wasespecially dear to the Spirit of the sky, the Father in Heaven. 

One day this venturesome little bird started out upon a long journeyacross the wide Pacific Ocean toward this New World which neitherColumbus nor any other man had yet discovered. Under him tossed thewide, wide sea, rolling for miles in every direction, with no landvisible anywhere on which a little bird might rest his foot. For thiswas also before there were any islands in all that stretch of waters. Soon the poor little Bluebird became very weary and wished he had notventured upon so long a flight. His wings began to droop and he sanklower and lower toward the sea which seemed eager to overwhelm hisblueness with its own. He had come so far over the salty wastes that hewas very thirsty; but with water, water everywhere there was not a dropto drink. The poor little bird glanced despairingly up toward the bluesky from which he had been made and cried, --

"O Spirit of the blue sky, O my Father in Heaven, help your child theBluebird! Give me, I pray you, a place to rest and refreshment for mythirsty throat, or I perish in the cruel blue waters!"

At these sorrowful words the kind Father took pity upon his littleBluebird. And what do you think? He made a baby earthquake which heaveda rocky point of land up through the waves, just big enough for a littlebird's perch. It was a tiny reef, and a crack in the rock held but a fewdrops of the rain which began to fall; but it meant at least a moment'ssafety and draught of life for the weary bird, and glad enough he was toreach it. 

He had not been there long, however, when a big wave almost washed himaway. He was not yet safe. Still he lacked the rest and refreshmentwhich he so sorely needed. For the raindrops were soon turned brackishby the waves which dashed upon the reef from all sides, and the Bluebirdhad to keep hopping up and down to avoid being drowned in the tossingspray. He was more tired than ever, and this continuous exercise madehim even more thirsty. Once more he prayed to the Father for help. Andonce more the kind Spirit of the Sky heard him from the blueness. 

This time there was a terrible earthquake, until the sea boiled androlled into huge waves as if churned by a mighty churn at the verybottom of things, and with a terrified scream the Bluebird flew highinto the air. 

But when the noise and the rumbling died away and once more the sea laycalm and still, what do you think the Bluebird saw? The great oceanwhich had once stretched an unbroken sheet of blue as far as the eyecould see was now dotted here and there by islands, big islands andlittle islands, groups and archipelagoes of them, just as on the map onesees them to-day peppering the Pacific Ocean. Samoa came up, and Tonga, and Tulima, and many others with names quite as bad, if not worse. Fromone island to another the Bluebird flew, finding rest and refreshment oneach, until he reached the mainland in safety. And there the islandsremain to this day for other travelers to visit, breaking their journeyfrom west to east or from east to west. There are forests and cascades, springs of fresh and pleasant water, delicious fruits, wonderful birdsand animals, and finally a race of strange, dark men. (But they camelong, long after. )

So the Bluebird crossed the Pacific, folk tell. Was it not wonderful howthe kind Father came to scatter those many islands in the PacificOcean, --stepping-stones for a tiny little Bluebird so that he need notwet his feet in crossing that wide salty river?

THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN

Long, long ago in the days of wise King Solomon, the Crow and thePheasant were the best of friends, and were always seen going abouttogether, wing in wing. Now the Pheasant was the Peacock's owncousin, --a great honor, many thought, for the Peacock was the mostgorgeous of all the birds. But it was not altogether pleasant for thePheasant, because at that time he wore such plain and shabby oldgarments that his proud relative was ashamed of him, and did not like tobe reminded that they were of the same family. When the Peacock wentstrutting about with his wonderful tail spread fan-wise, and with hisvain little eyes peering to see who might be admiring his beauty, thePeacock's cousin and his friend the Crow, who was then a plain _white_bird, would slink aside and hide behind a tree, whence they would peepenviously until the Peacock had passed by. Then the Peacock's cousinwould say, --

"Oh, how beautiful, how grand, how noble he is! How came such a lordlybird to have for a cousin so homely a creature as I?"

But the Crow would answer, trying to comfort his friend, "Yes, he isgorgeous. But listen, what a harsh and disagreeable voice he has! Andsee how vain he is. I would not be so vain had I so scandalous a tale inmy family history. "

Then the Crow told the Peacock's cousin how his proud relative came tohave so unmusical a voice. 

 * * * * *

When Adam and Eve were living peacefully in their fair garden, whileSatan was still seeking in vain a way to enter there, the Peacock wasthe most beautiful of all the companions who surrounded the happy pair. His plumage shone like pearl and emerald, and his voice was so melodiousthat he was selected to sing the Lord's praises every day in the streetsof heaven. But he was then, as now, very, very vain; and Satan, prowlingabout outside the wall of Paradise, saw this. 

"Aha!" he said to himself, "here is the vainest creature in all theworld. He is the one I must flatter in order to win entrance to thegarden, where I am to work my mischief. Let me approach the Peacock. "

Satan stole softly to the gate and in a wheedling voice called to thePeacock, --

"O most wonderful and beautiful bird! Are you one of the birds ofParadise?"

"Yes, I am one of the dwellers in the happy garden, " answered thePeacock, strutting. "But who are you who slink about so secretly, as ifafraid of some one?"

"I am one of the cherubim who are appointed to sing the Lord's praises, "answered the wicked Satan. "I have stopped for a moment to visit theParadise which He has prepared for the blest, and I find as my firstglimpse of its glories you, O most lovely bird! Will you conceal meunder your rainbow wings and bring me within the walls?"

"I dare not, " answered the Peacock. "The Lord allows none to enter here. He will be angry and will punish me. "

"O charming bird!" went on Satan with his smooth tongue, "take me withyou, and I will teach you three mysterious words which shall preserveyou forever from sickness, age, and death. "

At this promise the Peacock was greatly tempted and began to hesitate inhis refusals. And at last he said, --

"I dare not myself let you in, O stranger, but if you keep your promiseI will send the Serpent, who is wiser than I and who may more easilyfind some way to let you enter unobserved. "

So it was through the Peacock that Satan met the vile Serpent, whoseshape he assumed in order to enter the garden and tempt Eve with theapple. And for the Peacock's share in the doings of that dreadful daythe Lord took away his beautiful voice and sent him forth from thepleasant garden to chatter harshly in this workaday world, where hisgorgeousness and his vanity are but a reminder to men of the shame whichhe brought upon their ancestors. 

 * * * * *

"And therefore, " said the Crow, concluding his gossip, "therefore, dearPheasant, I see no reason why we should envy your cousin. We are veryplain citizens of Birdland, but we are at least respectable. I like youmuch better, having nothing to make you vain, nothing of which to beashamed. "

 * * * * *

So the Crow spoke, in the wisdom which he had learned from Solomon. Butthe Peacock's cousin refused to be comforted. The shabbiness of his coatpreyed upon his mind, and he fancied that the other birds jeered at himbecause in such old clothes he dared to be the Peacock's cousin. Itseemed to him that every day the Peacock himself grew more haughty andmore patronizing. 

One day the Crow and the Peacock's cousin were sauntering through theMalay woods when they met the Peacock face to face. The Crow lookeddefiant and stood jauntily; but the Pheasant tried to shrink out ofsight. The Peacock, however, had spied his poor relative, and was filledwith cousinly resentment at his appearance. 

He stopped short. He stood upon one leg. He puffed and ruffled himself, spreading out his thousand-eyed tail so that its colors flashedwonderfully in the sunshine. He frilled his neck feathers and snappedhis mean little eyes maliciously; then turning his back on the shabbycouple said, as he stepped airily away, --

"Ah, I have dropped some of my old feathers back there a little way. Youcan have them if you like, Pheasant. They will freshen you up a bit; youreally are looking shockingly seedy. But for mercy's sake don't wearthem in my presence! I can't bear to see any one parading in my cast-offelegance. " Then the Peacock minced away. 

The Peacock's cousin stamped on the ground and flapped his wings withrage. If he had been a girl he would have burst into tears. "I cannotstand this, " he cried. "To be treated as if I were a beggar! To be givenold clothes to wear! Crow, Crow, if you were any kind of friend youwould help me. But you stand staring there and see me insulted, withoutturning a feather! What is the use of all your wisdom that you learnedfrom King Solomon if you cannot help a friend in need? I tell you, Imust have some better garments, or I shall die of mortification. "

"Don't be excited, " said the Crow soothingly. "I have been thinking thematter over, and I believe I can do something. Listen. Yesterday I foundbrushes and a box of colors in a room of the King's palace. Theybelonged to the Court Painter. Now they belong to me, for I have hiddenthem away in a hollow tree where no one else can find them. I thoughtthey might be useful, and I think so still. "

"Well, well! What do you propose to do with paints and brushes?" criedthe Peacock's cousin impatiently. 

"I propose to paint you, to varnish you, to gild you, " patientlyanswered the Crow. 

"Oh, you dear Crow!" exclaimed the other, clapping his wings. "You willmake me brilliant and beautiful! You will make me worthy of thePeacock, will you not? How clever of you to think of such a thing!"

"Yes, " replied the Crow; "I watched the Court Painter at work in thegarden one day, and I know how it is done. I will make you as gorgeousas you wish. But you must return the compliment. If you are to be anornament of fashion, so must I be; for are we not inseparable cronies?And when you become beautiful it would not do for you to be seen withsuch a dowdy as I am. "

"You dear creature!" said the Peacock's cousin affectionately; "ofcourse we will share alike. I will paint you as soon as I see how yousucceed with me. Ah, I know your skill in everything. You will be a fineartist, my friend! But come, let us get to work at once. "

So the flattered Crow led him to the hollow tree where he had concealedthe brushes and the gilding and the India ink, and all the gorgeouschangeable tints which an Eastern artist uses in his paintings. "Here weare, " said the Crow. "Now let us see what we shall see, when Master Crowturns painter. "

The Crow set to work with a will, splashing on the colors generously, gold and green and bronze iridescence. He had the Peacock in mind, andthough he did not exactly copy the plumage of that wonderful bird, hemanaged to suggest the cousinship of the Pheasant in the golden eyes ofhis long and beautiful tail. When he had finished, the Crow wasdelighted with his work. 

"Ah!" he cried. "Now bend over this fountain, my dear friend, andobserve yourself. I think you do credit to my skill as an artist, eh?"

The Peacock's cousin hurried down to the water-pool, all in a flutter ofexcitement. And when he saw his image he cried, "How beautiful, howtruly beautiful, I am! Why, I am quite as handsome as Peacock himself. Surely, now he need not be ashamed to call me cousin. I shall move inthe most fashionable circles. Heavens! Look at my lovely tail! Look atmy burnished feathers! I must go immediately and show my new dress toCousin Peacock. I should not be surprised if he became jealous of mygorgeousness. " And off he started as fast as he could go. 

"Hold on!" cried the Crow. "Don't run away so quickly. You haveforgotten something. Don't you remember that you promised to paint mebeautiful like yourself?"

"Oh, bother!" answered the ungrateful friend, tossing his head. "I haveno time now for such business. I must hasten to my cousin, for this is amatter of family pride. Run along like a good creature; and by the way, you may as well gather the feathers which Peacock mentioned. I am surethey will make you look quite respectable. Besides, I will give you someof mine when I have worn them a little. Ta-ta!" And he stepped airilyaway. 

But the Crow strode after him, shaking his wings and crying, "Come back, come back and perform your part of the bargain, you selfish, ungratefulcreature!" And he caught the Pheasant by one of his long tail-feathers. 

"Let go my train, impertinent wretch!" shrieked the Peacock's cousin, turning upon him fiercely. "I tell you I have no time to spend in suchnonsense. I must be presenting myself in high society. "

"Villain!" croaked the Crow, and he rushed forward fiercely, intendingto tear out the beautiful feathers which he had painted for hisungrateful friend. Thereupon the Pheasant exclaimed, --

"You want to be painted, do you? Well, take _that_!" and, seizing thebottle of India ink which was in the Eastern artist's paint-box, hehurled it at the poor Crow, deluging with blackness his spotlessfeathers. Then laughing harshly, away he flew to his cousin the Peacock, who received him with proud affection, because they were now reallybirds of a feather. For the Peacock's cousin was become one of the mostbeautiful birds in the world. 

But the poor Crow was now a sombre, black bird, wearing theseedy-looking, inky coat which we know so well to-day. His heart wasbroken by his friend's faithlessness, and he became a sour cynic who cansee no good in anything. He flies about crying "Caw! Caw!" in the mostdisagreeable, sarcastic tone, as if sneering at the mean action of thatMalay bird, which he can never forget. 

THE MASQUERADING CROW

The Crow became very sour and disagreeable after his friend thePeacock's cousin deserted him for more gorgeous company. Though hepretended not to care because the Pheasant was now a proud, beautifully-coated dandy, while he was the shabbiest of all the birds inhis coat of rusty black, yet in truth he did care very much. He couldnot forget how the Peacock's cousin had dyed him this sombre hue, afterpromising to paint him bright and wonderful, like himself. He could nothelp thinking how fine he would have looked in similar plumage of arainbow tint, or how becoming a long swallow-tail would be to his styleof beauty. He wished that there was a tailor in Birdland to whom hecould go for a new suit of clothes. But alas! There seemed no way butfor him to remain ugly old Crow to the end of the chapter. 

The Crow went moping about most unhappily while this was preying on hismind, until he really became somewhat crazy upon the subject. The onlything about which he could think was clothes--clothes--clothes; andthat is indeed a foolish matter to absorb one's mind. One word of thePeacock's cousin remained in his memory and refused to be forgotten. Hehad advised the Crow to gather up the feathers which had fallen from thePeacock's plumage and to make himself fine with them. First the Crowremembered these words sadly, because they showed the unkind heart ofhis old friend. Next he remembered them with scorn, because they showedvanity. Then he remembered them with interest because they gave him anidea. And that idea gradually grew bigger and bigger until it became aplan. 

The plan came to him completely one day while he was sitting moodily ona tree watching the Peacock and his cousin sweeping proudly over thevelvet lawn of the King's garden. For nowadays the Pheasant moved in themost courtly circles, as he had promised himself. As they passed underthe Crow two beautiful feathers fell behind them and lay on the grassshining in the sunlight with a hundred colors. 

"Once more the cast-off plumage of the Peacock family is left for me!"croaked the Crow to himself. "Am I only to be made beautiful byborrowing from others? Perhaps I might collect feathers enough from allthe birds to conceal my inky coat. Aha! I have it. " And this was theplan of the Crow. He would steal from every dweller in Birdland afeather, and see whether he could not make himself more beautiful thanthe Peacock's cousin himself. 

Now the Crow was a skilful thief. He could steal the silver off theKing's table from under the steward's very nose. He could steal a maid'sthimble from her finger as she nodded sleepily over her work. He couldsteal the pen from behind a scribe's ear, as he paused to scratch hishead and think over the spelling of a word. So the Crow felt sure thathe could steal their feathers from the birds without any trouble. 

When the Peacock and his cousin had passed by, the Crow swooped down andcarried off the two feathers which were to begin his collection. He hidthem in his treasure-house in the hollow tree, and started out for more. 

It was great fun for the Crow, and he almost forgot to be miserable. Hefollowed old lady Ostrich about for some time before he dared tweak ahandful of feathers from her tail. But finally he succeeded; and thoughshe squawked horribly and turned, quick as a flash, she was not quickenough to catch the nimble thief, who was already hidden under a bush. In the same way he secured some lovely plumes from the Bird ofParadise, the Parrot, and the Cock. He robbed the Redbreast of his ruddyvest, the Hoopoe of his crown, and he secured a swallow-tail which hehad long coveted. He took some rosy-redness from the Flamingo, thegilding of the Goldfinch, the gray down of an Eider-Duck. He burgled theBluebird and the Redbird and the Yellowbird; and not one singlefeathered creature escaped his clever beak. At last his hole in the treewas brimming with feathers of every color, length, and degree ofsoftness, a gorgeous feather-bed on which it would dazzle one to sleep. 

Then the Crow set to work to make himself a coat of many colors, likeJoseph's. He was a very clever bird, and a wondrous coat it turned outto be. It had no particular cut nor style; it was not like the coatwhich any bird had ever before worn. The feathers were placed in anyfashion that happened to please his original fancy. Some pointed up andsome down; some were straight and some were curled; some drooped abouthis feet and others curved gracefully over his head; some trailed farbehind. He was completely covered from top to toe, so that not one blotof his own inky feathers showed through the gorgeousness. A red vest hewore, and a swallow-tail, of course, and there was a crown of featherson his head. Never was there seen a more extraordinary bird nor one moregaudy. Perhaps he was not in the best of taste, but at least he wasstriking. 

When all was finished the Crow went and looked at himself in thefountain mirror; and he was much pleased. 

"Well now!" he cried. "How am I for a bird? I believe no one will knowme, and that is just as well; for now I am so fine that I shall myselfrefuse to know any one. Ho! This ought to give some ideas to thatconceited Peacock family! I am a self-made man. I am an artist who knowshow to adapt his materials. I am a genius. King Solomon himself willwonder at my glory. And as for the Eagle, King of the Birds, he willgrow pale with envy. King of the Birds, indeed! It is now I who shouldrightfully be King. No other ever wore clothes so fine as mine. By rightof them I ought to be King of the Birds. I _will_ be King of the Birds!"

You see the poor old Crow was quite crazy with his one idea. 

Forth he stalked into Birdland to show his gorgeous plumage and to gethimself elected King of the Birds. The first persons he met were thePeacock and his cousin, --he who was once the Crow's best friend. TheCrow ruffled himself his prettiest when he saw them coming. 

"Good gracious! Who is that extraordinary fowl?" drawled the Peacock. "He must be some great noble from a far country. "

"How beautiful!" murmured his silly cousin. "How odd! How fascinating!How distinguished! I wish the Crow had painted me like that!" The Crowheard these words and swelled with pride, casting a scornful glance athis old friend as he swept by. 

Next he met a little Sparrow who was picking bugs from the grass. "Outof my way, Birdling!" cried the Crow haughtily. "I am the King. "

"The King!" gasped the Sparrow, nearly choking over a fat bug, he was sosurprised. "I did not know that the King wore such a robe. Howgorgeous--but how queer!"

Next the Crow met Mr. Stork, standing gravely on one leg and thinking ofthe little baby which he was going to bring that night to the cottage bythe lake. The Stork looked up in surprise as the wonderful strangerapproached. 

"Bless me!" he exclaimed, "whom have we here? I thought I knew allBirdland, but I never before saw such a freak as this!"

[Illustration: _"Bless me!" he exclaimed, "whom have we here?"_]

"I am the King. I am to be the new King, " announced the Crow. "Isthere any bird more gorgeous than I?"

"Truly, I hope not, " said the Stork gravely. "Yet the Woodcock is a veryfoolish bird. One never knows what he will do next. If he should try tobe fashionable"--

But the Crow had passed on without listening to the Stork's sarcasm. 

As he went through Birdland he drew behind him a following of featheredcitizens, chattering, screaming, tittering all together like the crowdafter a circus procession. All the birds, big and little, plain andpretty, flocked to see this wonderful stranger who because of his fineclothes was coming to have himself named King. Some of them thought himtruly beautiful, some thought him ridiculous; some envied him, somejeered. But they all stared; and the more they stared the more conceitedbecame the Crow, the more sure that the kingdom was to be his. 

At last they came into the presence of the Eagle himself. That royalbird was perched upon his eyrie far up on the cliff. Below him gatheredthe dense flock of birds, waiting to see what would happen when the Crowdemanded to be made King in the Eagle's place. The Eagle had been warnedof the matter by the little Humming-Bird, and was looking very majesticand scornful. But the Swallow flew round and round in great circles, twittering excitedly, and in each circle sweeping nearer and nearer tothe ground. The Swallow was angry because some one had stolen hisbeautiful swallow-tail. 

Presently the Crow swaggered forth, and cocking his impertinent eyetowards the Eagle he croaked, --

"Hello there, Old High-perch! Give me your crown and sceptre, for I amKing of the Birds, not you. Look at my gorgeous clothes; look at yourown dull plumage. Am I not kingly?--look at me. "

The King made no reply, merely gazing sternly at the Crow. But theSwallow took up the word. 

"Look at him, look at him indeed, O King!" he screamed. "There issomething strange about his kingly plumage. That swallow-tail is mine, Iknow it!" And with a vicious tweak the Swallow pulled out the longforked feathers of which the Crow was especially proud. Oh, what ashriek of rage the mad old bird gave! At that moment the Hoopoe came upand said, "Ha! Methinks I too recognize my property. This is my crown, "and forthwith he snatched the plumes from the Crow's forehead, leavingit quite ugly and bare. Next the gentle Redbreast claimed his vest, andthe Bluebird her azure feathers, and the Ostrich her train which she hadsorely missed. Each of the birds in turn came up and with muchchattering and scolding twitched away the property of which he or shehad been robbed, until the Crow stood before them in his customary suitof solemn black, a bird ashamed and sore. For they had pecked him withtheir bills and beaten him with their wings and scratched him with theirclaws until even his own plain old coat was frayed and rent. 

"Oh ho, oh ho! It is only old Daddy Crow, after all!" screamed the birdsin chorus. And then, because the Eagle burst out laughing, they saw thatit was really funny. Since the King did not mind being robbed for a timeof his title, surely they need not mourn over the few feathers which thethief had borrowed, especially since each now had his own. Chatteringwith glee they all flew home to their various nests, leaving the Crowalone with his shame and soreness. 

Just at this moment the Peacock and his cousin came hurrying up out ofbreath. 

"Oh, what is it? What is the matter? What was all that noise just now?"asked the Peacock. 

"Oh, what has become of the beautiful, noble, splendid, remarkable, graceful, gorgeous, stylish, long-tailed, kingly stranger?" questionedthe Peacock's cousin, speaking affably to the Crow, for the first timesince his adoption into high society. 

The Crow looked at him sideways, and all his madness went away as he sawhow very, very silly this creature was. 

"He was a fool in fools' feathers, " he croaked. "He is no more. Butbefore the end he bade me return these to you, saying, 'Fine feathers donot make fine birds. '" Speaking thus, he presented to the pair their twolong feathers with which he had started his collection and which werethe only ones now remaining to the masquerading Crow. 

Then with a harsh _Caw_! he flew away to his tree. He is not a happybird, but since that time he has never been so mad as to think thatclothes are the chief thing in the world. 

KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS

King Solomon was wiser than all men, and his fame was in all nationsround about Jerusalem. He was so wise that he knew every spokenlanguage; yes, but more than this, he could talk with everything thatlived, trees and flowers, beasts and fowls, creeping things and fishes. What a very pleasant thing that was for Solomon, to be sure! And howglad one would be nowadays to have such knowledge!

Solomon was especially fond of birds, and loved to talk with thembecause their voices were so sweet and they spoke such beautiful words. One day the wise King was chatting pleasantly with the birds who livedin his wonderful garden, and these are some of the things which he heardthem say. The Nightingale, the sweetest singer of all, chanted, --

"Contentment is the greatest happiness. "

"It would be better for most people never to have been born, " croonedthe melancholy Turtle-Dove. 

The happy little Swallow gave her opinion, --"Do good and you will berewarded hereafter. "

The harsh cry of the Peacock meant, "As thou judgest so shalt thou bejudged. "

The Hoopoe said, "He who has no pity for others will find none forhimself. "

The cynical old Crow croaked disagreeably, "The further away from men Iam, the better I am pleased. "

Last of all the Cock who sings in the morning chanted his joyoussong, --"Think of your Creator, O foolish creatures!"

When they had finished talking King Solomon softly stroked the head ofthe pretty little Dove and bade her cheer up, for life was not sodreadful a thing, after all. And he gave her permission to build hernest under the walls of the great Temple which he was building, the mostbeautiful, golden house in the whole world. Some years afterward theDoves had so increased in numbers that with their extended wings theyformed a veil over the numberless pilgrims who came to Jerusalem tovisit the wonderful Temple. 

But of all the winged singers who spoke that day in the garden, the wiseKing chose to have ever near him the Cock, because he had spoken wordsof piety, and the nimble Hoopoe, because he was able to plunge hisclear gaze into the depths of the earth as if it were made oftransparent glass and discover the places where springs of living waterwere hidden under the soil. It was very convenient for Solomon, when hewas traveling, to have some one with him who was able to find water inwhatsoever place he might be resting. 

Thus the Cock and the Hoopoe became Solomon's closest companions; but ofthe two the Hoopoe was his favorite. The Hoopoe is an Eastern bird andwe do not see him in America. He is about as big as a Jay, colored abeautiful reddish gray, with feathers of purple, brown, and white, andhis black wings are banded with white. But the peculiar thing about aHoopoe is his crown of tawny feathers, a tall crown for so small a bird. And this is the story of the Hoopoe's crown. 

 * * * * *

One day when Solomon was journeying across the desert, he was sorelydistressed by the heat of the sun, until he came near to fainting. Justthen he spied a flock of his friends the Hoopoes flying past, andcalling to them feebly he begged them to shelter him from the burningrays. 

The King of the Hoopoes gathered together his whole nation and causedthem to fly in a thick cloud over the head of Solomon while hecontinued his journey. In gratitude the wise King offered to give hisfeathered friends whatever reward they might ask. 

For a whole day the Hoopoes talked the matter over among themselves, then their King came to Solomon and said to him, --

"We have considered your offer, O generous King, and we have decidedthat what we most desire is to have, each of us, a golden crown on hishead. "

King Solomon smiled and answered, "Crowns of gold shall you have. Butyou are foolish birds, my Hoopoes; and when the evil days shall comeupon you and you see the folly of your desire, return here to me and Iwill help you yet again. "

So the King of the Hoopoes left King Solomon with a beautiful goldencrown upon his head. And soon all the Hoopoes were wearing goldencrowns. Thereupon they grew very proud and haughty. They went down bythe lakes and pools and strutted there that they might admire themselvesin the water mirrors. And the Queen of the Hoopoes became very airy, andrefused to speak to her own cousin and to the other birds who had oncebeen her friends. 

There was a certain fowler who used to set traps for birds. He put apiece of broken mirror into his trap, and a Hoopoe spying it went in toadmire herself, and was caught. The fowler looked at the shining crownupon her head and said, "What have we here! I never saw a crown likethis upon any bird. I must ask about this. "

So he took the crown to Issachar, the worker in metal, and asked himwhat it was. Issachar examined it carefully, and his eyes stuck out ofhis head. But he said carelessly, "It is a crown of brass, my friend. Iwill give you a quarter of a shekel for it; and if you find any morebring them to me. But be sure to tell no other man of the matter. " (Ashekel was about sixty-two cents. )

After this the fowler caught many Hoopoes in the same way, and soldtheir crowns to Issachar. But one day as he was on his way to themetalworker's shop he met a jeweler, and to him he showed one of theHoopoes' crowns. 

"What is this, and where did you find it?" exclaimed the jeweler. "It ispure gold. I will give you a golden talent for every four you bring me. "(A talent was worth three hundred shekels. )

Now when the value of the Hoopoes' crowns was known, every one turnedfowler and began to hunt the precious birds. In all the land of Israelwas heard the twang of bows and the whirling of slings. Bird lime wasmade in every town, and the price of traps rose in the market so thatthe trap-makers became rich men. Not a Hoopoe could show his unluckyhead without being slain or taken captive, and the days of the Hoopoeswere numbered. It seemed that soon there would be no more Hoopoes leftto bewail their sad fate. 

At last the few who still lived gathered together and held a meeting toconsider what should be done, for their minds were filled with sorrowand dismay. And they decided to appeal once more to King Solomon, whohad granted their foolish prayer. 

Flying by stealth through the loneliest ways, the unhappy King of theHoopoes came at last to the court of the King, and stood once morebefore the steps of his golden throne. With tears and groans he relatedthe sad fortune which had befallen his golden-crowned race. 

King Solomon looked kindly upon the King of the Hoopoes and said, "Behold, did I not warn you of your folly in desiring to have crowns ofgold? Vanity and pride have been your ruin. But now, that there may be amemorial of the service which once you did me, your crowns of gold shallbe changed into crowns of feathers, and with them you may walk unharmedupon the earth. "

In this way the remaining Hoopoes were saved. For when the fowlers sawthat they no longer wore crowns of gold upon their heads, they ceased tohunt them as they had been doing. And from that time forth the family ofthe Hoopoes have flourished and increased in peace, even to the presentday. 

 * * * * *

Solomon was ever seeking to grow even wiser. The better to know thewonders of God's world and the ways of all creatures, he undertook manyjourneys, --not as we ordinary poor mortals travel, in heavy wagons orclumsy boats, by dusty roads or stormy waves. It was in no suchtroublous ways that Solomon the all-powerful traversed space and reachedthe uttermost corners of the earth. Thanks to his great knowledge, hehad discovered a means of locomotion compared to which the mostmagnificent railway coaches and the richest palanquins of Indian princeswould seem poor indeed. He had caused his Genii to make a silken carpetof four leagues in extent. In the midst of this carpet was placed amagnificent throne for the royal traveler himself; and around it wereseats of gold, of silver, of wood, for the multitude of persons ofdifferent rank whom he took with him. There was also no lack of the mostgorgeous furniture and the necessary provisions for a king's travelingbanquet. 

When all was ready Solomon was wont to seat himself upon his throne, andwould command the winds to do their duty. Immediately they gently liftedthe carpet and bore it rapidly through the air to the appointed spot. During the journey, above the aerial caravan fluttered a cloud of birds, who with their wings formed a splendid canopy to shield their belovedlord from the sun's heat, as the Hoopoes had first done. 

One day, while on such a journey, Solomon was shocked to feel a ray ofsunlight piercing through this plumy dais which overhung his head. Shading his eyes, the King glanced up and perceived that there was anopening in the canopy. One bird was missing from its post. In greatdispleasure Solomon demanded of the Eagle the name of the truant. Anxiously the Eagle called the roll of all the birds in his company; andhe was horrified to find that it was Solomon's favorite, the Hoopoe, whowas missing. With terror he announced the bird's desertion to the mostwise King. 

"Soar aloft, " commanded Solomon sternly, "and find the Hoopoe that I maypunish him. I will pluck off his feathers that he may feel thescorching heat of the sun as his carelessness has caused me to do. "

The Eagle soared heavenward, until the earth beneath him looked like abowl turned upside down. Then he poised on level wings and looked aroundin every direction to discover the truant. Soon he espied the Hoopoeflying swiftly from the south. The Eagle swooped down and would haveseized the culprit roughly in his strong talons, but the Hoopoe beggedhim for Solomon's sake to be gentle. 

"For Solomon's sake!" cried the Eagle. "Do you dare to name the Kingwhom you have injured? He has discovered your absence and in hisrighteous anger will punish you severely. "

"Lead me to him, " replied the Hoopoe. "I know that he will forgive mewhen he hears where I have been and what I have to tell him. "

The Eagle led him to the King, who with a wrathful face was sitting onhis throne. The Hoopoe trembled and drooped his feathers humbly, butwhen Solomon would have crushed him in his mighty fist the bird cried, --

"Remember, King, that one day you also must give an account of yoursins. Let me not therefore be condemned unheard. "

"And if I hear you, what excuse can you have to offer?" answeredSolomon, frowning. But this was his favorite bird and he hoped thatthere might be some reason for sparing him. 

"Well, " said the Hoopoe, "at Mecca I met a Hoopoe of my acquaintance whotold me so wonderful a tale of the marvelous Kingdom of Sheba in Arabiathat I could not resist the temptation to visit that country of gold andprecious stones. And there, indeed, I saw the most prodigious treasures;but best of all, O King, more glorious than gold, more precious thanrare jewels, I saw Queen Balkis, the most beautiful of queens. "

"Tell me of this Queen, " said Solomon, loosening his rough grasp uponthe Hoopoe. So it was, say the Mussulmans, that a bird told Solomon ofthe great Queen whose journey to Jerusalem is described in the Bible. 

The Hoopoe told of her power and glory, her riches, her wisdom, and herbeauty, until Solomon sighed a great sigh and said, "It seems too goodto be true! But we shall see. "

So the King wrote a letter to Balkis, bidding her follow the guidance offate and come to the court of the wise King. This note he sealed withmusk, stamped with his great signet, and gave to the Hoopoe, saying, --

"If now you have spoken truth, take this letter to Queen Balkis; thencome away. "

The Hoopoe did as he was bid, darting off towards the south like anarrow. And the next day he came to the palace of the Queen of Sheba, where she sat in all her splendor among her counselors. He hopped intothe hall and dropped the letter into her lap, then flew away. 

Queen Balkis stared and stared at the great King's seal upon themysterious letter, and when she had read the brief invitation she staredand stared again. But she had heard the fame of Solomon and was eager toask him some of her clever questions to prove his wisdom. So she decidedto accept his invitation and come to Jerusalem. 

She came with a great train of attendants, with camels that bore spicesand treasures of gold and precious stones, gifts for the most wise King. And she asked him more questions than any woman had ever asked himbefore, though he knew a great many ladies, and they were allinquisitive. 

But Solomon was so wise that he answered all her questions without anytrouble. 

And she said to him, "It was a true report that I heard of you in my ownland, of your wisdom and of your glory. Only that which now I know andsee is greater than what I heard. Happy are thy men and happy are thyservants who stand continually before thee and hear thy wisdom. "

And she gave the King a hundred and twenty talents of gold, which was avery rich treasure, besides great store of spices, and the most preciousgifts; no one had ever seen such gifts as the Queen of Sheba gave toSolomon. 

But he in turn was even more generous. For he gave to the fair Balkisall that she desired and everything she asked, because he admired somuch this splendid Queen of whom the Hoopoe had first told him. 

And so, the Bible says, the Queen of Sheba turned and went to her owncountry, she and her servants. But the Mussulmans' tales say that inlater days she married Solomon and they lived happily ever after. And itwas all the work of that little Hoopoe with a yellow crown, whom afterthat we may be sure Solomon loved better than ever. 

THE PIOUS ROBIN

 "Art thou the bird whom man loves best, The pious bird with the scarlet breast, Our little English Robin?" WORDSWORTH. 

The English Robin is not precisely like our little American friend whomwe call by that name, although, as the lines of poetry quoted above willshow, in two ways he is the same as ours: he has a red breast, and he isthe bird whom every one loves. Of all the little brothers of the air, inevery land and clime, the pretty, jolly, neighborly Robin Redbreast isthe favorite. 

There are many stories about him: some which tell how he came by hisscarlet breast, others which explain why he has always been best belovedof the birds. I have already told how he helped the Wren to bring fireto men. Every one knows how tenderly he covered with leaves the poorBabes in the Wood, when they had been deserted even by their nearest ofkin. Some have heard about Saint Kentigern, and how he restored to lifethe pious Robin of his master Servan, --the dear little bird who used tosing psalms every morning in the Saint's company. Some also know aboutthe Robin who brought the wheat-ear in his bill to the poor brothers inBrittany who had no grain to plant for their future harvest. All thesetales show the Robin's generous heart, cheerful nature, and piousdevotion, which make him beloved by men. But perhaps you do not know whyhe is called God's own bird. 

 "The Robin and the Wren Are God's cock and hen, "

sing the little English children, and they think it is very wicked toinjure one of the holy birds or make her unhappy by robbing her nest ofits pretty eggs. 

This is why the Robin is called the good bird, God's bird. The oldeststories say that the little Christ-child used to feed most tenderly theRobins who hopped about the door of His mother's house, for they weredearest of all to His baby heart. Perhaps He thus early learned to lovethem because His mother had told Him of the service which the dearlittle birds had once performed for her. 

For it is said that once upon a time, when Mary was a little girl, asshe was going along the gusty road a bit of straw blew into her eye andpained her terribly. She sat down upon a stone and began to cry. Now aRobin was sitting on a branch close by, singing with all the power ofhis little throat when the maiden passed, for she was very sweet to seeand the Robin loved her looks. But when he saw the blessed Mary begin tocry and rub her eye with her chubby hand, he stopped his gay song andbecame very sad, wondering what he could do to help her. 

What he did was to fly away and tell his friend the Swallow all aboutit, asking her aid. After that he fluttered to a little fountain whichbubbled up close by and brought thence in his bill a drop of water. Then, perching on Mary's forehead, he gently dropped this into thesuffering eye. At the same time the Swallow softly brushed her longtail-feathers under the maiden's eyelid, and the hateful straw was wipedaway. Thus the little Mary was relieved, and when once more she couldlook up happily with her pretty eyes she smiled upon the two kind birdsand blessed them for their aid. 

Of course, if the little Christ heard His mother tell this pretty storyHe would have been sure to love the Robin, just as she did. And so theselittle birds became His boyhood friends. 

Those were happy times. But in the after years, in the dreadful daywhen the Saviour was so cruelly done to death by His enemies, the littleRobin once more proved his generous and pious heart, so the legends say. 

The Saviour hung upon the cross, suffering and sad, while the world wasveiled with darkness and all good creatures mourned. Two birds perchedupon the cross beside His weary, drooping head. One was the faithfulRobin, who was then a plain and dark-colored bird with the scorchedfeathers of a fire-bringer upon his breast. The other was the Magpie, who at that time was among the most gorgeous and beautiful of all thebirds. She had a tuft of bright feathers on her head, and her plumageoutshone even that of the Peacock, who has the hundred gleaming eyes ofArgus set in his fan-like tail. But the Magpie, in spite of her beauty, was at heart a wicked bird. Think of it! She mocked the dying Saviour inHis agony and seemed to rejoice in His suffering!

But the Robin fluttered about the holy figure, timidly uttering chirpsof sorrow and longing to help the Master who had fed him tenderly for somany years. With his soft wings he wiped away the tears which flowedfrom the Lord's eyes, while with his beak he tugged at the cruel thornswhich pierced His brow, trying to relieve Him. 

Suddenly a drop of blood fell from Christ's forehead upon the Robin'sbreast and tinged with bright crimson the rusty reddish feathers. 

"Blessed be thou, " said the Lord, "thou sharer of my suffering. Whereverthou goest happiness and joy shall follow thee. Blue as the heaven shallbe thy eggs, and from henceforth thou shalt be the Bird of God, thebearer of good tidings. But thou, " He added, addressing the Magpiesorrowfully, "thou art accursed. No longer shall the brilliant tuft andbright feathers of which thou art so proud and so unworthy adorn thee. Thy color shall be the streaked black and white of shadows, thy life ahard one. And thy nest, however well builded, shall be open to thestorm. "

These were almost the last words which the Saviour spoke. After that, when the Lord was laid in the sepulchre, the faithful Robin stillwatched beside Him for those three dread days until He rose on Eastermorning, when the little bird rejoiced with all nature at the wondroushappening. And again on Ascension Day he paid his last tribute to therisen Master, joining his little song with the chorus of the angelsthemselves in the gladdest Hosanna which the universe had ever heard. 

This explains how the Magpie became a restless, noisy, black-and-whitebird as we know her to this day, having lost all her brilliant beautythrough the wickedness of her heart. But the pious Robin still wearsupon his breast the beautiful feathers stained red with his Master'sblood. And all that the Saviour foretold of him has come true. He is theblessed bird whom children everywhere love and of whom they still repeatthese old verses:--

 "The Robin and the Redbreast, The Robin and the Wren, If ye take out of the nest Ye'll never thrive again. The Robin and the Redbreast, The Martin and the Swallow, If ye touch one of their eggs Bad luck is sure to follow. "

THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN

The name of Robin makes us think at once of the jolliest and mostsociable of all our little brother birds. In every land the name is afavorite, and wherever he goes he brings happiness and kind feeling. 

The American Robin is not the same bird as his English cousin, thoughboth have red breasts. 

It was in a different manner that our little American friend came tohave the ruddy waistcoat which we know so well. 

There was a time, so the Indians say, a very early time, long, longbefore Columbus discovered America, --even before histories began to bewritten, --when there were no Robins. 

In those days in the land of the Ojibways, which is far in the north ofthe cold country, there lived an old Indian chief who had one son, namedIadilla. Now among the Ojibways, when a boy was almost big enough tobecome a warrior, before he could go out with the other braves to thehunt or to war, there was a great trial which he must undergo. Otherlands and peoples have known similar customs. You remember how, inearly Christian times, long, long ago, Galahad and other boys had tofast and watch by their armor during the long night hours before theycould become knights, to wear spurs and shield and sword? In just thesame way a brown Ojibway lad had to make a long fast in order to win thelove of his Guardian Spirit, who would after that watch over him to makehim brave and strong. It was a very important event in a boy's life, like graduation from school or college nowadays. For this meant thegraduation from boyhood into manhood, the winning of a warrior'sdiploma. 

The father of Iadilla was a brave warrior, a famous chief. But he wishedhis son to become even better, wiser, greater than he had been. Heresolved that the boy should fast longer and harder than ever a lad hadfasted before. For he believed that this was the way to make him thenoblest of his race. Iadilla was a fine handsome lad, but he was theyoungest one who had ever made the trial, and there were many biggerboys than he who were not yet warriors. The other chiefs said that hewas not yet old and strong enough. 

But Iadilla's father declared that it was time, and bade his son gathercourage and pride for the ordeal. "For, " he said, "it will be no easymatter, my son, to become the greatest chief of the Ojibways. "

"My father, " replied Iadilla, humbly, "I will do as you wish. I will dowhat I can. But my strength is not the strength of the bigger boys; andI think it is yet early to talk of my becoming greatest of the Ojibways. Yet make trial of me, if you wish. "

The father of Iadilla had made a little tent of skins where the boy wasto live during his fasting time; where he was to lie without food ordrink for twelve long days, waiting for a message from the GuardianSpirit whose love was to be the reward of such a trial. 

When the time came, the old man led Iadilla to the lodge and bade himlie down on the bed of skins which had been prepared for him. AndIadilla did as he was bid, for he was a brave and obedient lad. 

The days crept by, the long, long days of waiting, while Iadilla lay inthe lodge bearing hunger and thirst such as no Ojibway lad had everbefore known. All day and all night he lay still and spoke never a word. But a dreadful fear was in his heart lest he should not be able toendure the fast for the twelve days which his father had set. 

Every morning his father came to the lodge to praise and to encouragehim, and to rejoice in one more day checked from the long time offasting. So eight days passed, and the old man was proud and happy. Already his dear son had done more than any Ojibway lad, and the wholetribe was praising Iadilla, saying what a great chief he would be in thedays to come. 

But on the ninth morning, when the father peeped into the lodge to seehow bravely his son was faring, the boy turned his head toward the doorand spoke for the first time in all those long days. He was very thinand pale, and his voice sounded weak. 

"My father, " he said, "I have slept, and my dreams were sad. I haveslept, and my dreams were of failure and weakness. The time does notplease my Guardian Spirit. It is not now that I can become a warrior. Iam not yet strong and old enough. O my father, I cannot bear the fastlonger! I am so hungry, so thirsty, so faint! Let me break my fast, andtry again in another year. "

But the father sternly refused, for he was ambitious. "Nay, lad, " hecried, frowningly. "Would you fail me now? Think of the glory, think ofbeing the greatest of Ojibways. It is but a few short days now. Courage, Iadilla, be a man in strength and patience. "

Iadilla said no more. He wrapped himself closer in his blanket and drewhis belt tighter about his slender waist, trying to stifle the hungergnawing there. So he lay silently until the eleventh day. That morninghis father came to the lodge, beaming proudly. 

"Bravo, my Iadilla!" he cried. "Only one day more, and you will bereleased from your fast. " But Iadilla clasped his hands beseechingly. 

"My father, " gasped the poor boy. "I cannot bear it another day. I amnot fit to be a great chief. I have failed. Give me food, or I die!"

But again the father refused. "It is but a day now, " he said, "but a fewshort hours. Bear a little longer, Iadilla. To-morrow I myself willbring you the finest breakfast that ever a lad ate. Courage, boy, forthe few hours that remain. "

Iadilla was too weak to answer. He lay motionless, with only a gentleheaving of his breast to show that he still lived. His father left himfor the last time, and went to prepare the morrow's goodly breakfast, while the tribe planned a fine festival in honor of the young hero. 

Early on the morrow came Iadilla's father to the tent, proudly bearingthe breakfast for his brave boy, and smiling to think how gladly hewould be received. But he stopped outside the tent door surprised tohear some one talking within. Stooping to a little hole in the skin ofthe tent he peeped in to find who the speaker might be. Imagine hissurprise to find Iadilla standing upright in the middle of the tentpainting his breast a brilliant red, as Indians do in war time. And ashe daubed on the colors he talked to himself. He spoke softly, yet notwith the weak voice of a starving lad; and his face was very beautifulto see, despite its pale thinness. 

"My father has ended my Indian life, " he said. "My father, tooambitious, has put upon me more than my strength could bear. He wouldnot listen to my prayer of weakness. But I knew, I knew! And my kindGuardian Spirit knew also that it was more than I could bear. He hasshown pity, seeing that I was obedient to my father and did my best toplease him. Now I am to be no longer an Indian boy. I must take theshape which the Spirit has given me, and go away. "

At these strange words the father broke into the tent, exclaiming interror, --

"My son, my dear son! Do not leave me!"

But, even as he spoke, Iadilla changed into a beautiful Robin Redbreastwith soft feathers and strong, firm wings. And, fluttering up to theridgepole of the tent, he looked down with pity and tenderness upon theheart-broken chief. 

"Do not grieve, father, " he sang. "I shall be so much happier as a bird, free from human pain and sorrow. I will cheer you with my merry songs. Oh, I have been hungry; but now I shall get my food so easily, sopleasantly on mountains and in the fields. Oh, once I was thirsty; butnow the dew is mine and the little springs. Once I traced my waypainfully by forest paths through bog and brake and tangled brier. Butnow my pathways are in the bright, clear air, where never thorn can tearnor beast can follow. Farewell, dear father! I am so happy!"

He stretched his brown wings as easily as if he had worn them all hislife, and, singing a sweet song, fluttered away to the neighboringwoods, where he built his nest, and lived happily ever after. 

And since that day the glad little Robins have lived as that first onepromised, close by the homes of men, and have done all they could tocheer us and make us happy. For they remember how, once upon a time, their ancestor was a human boy. 

THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN

There was once a woman who was so very inquisitive that she wished toknow everything. She was never happy unless she was poking her nose intosome mystery, and the less a matter concerned her the more curious shewas about it. 

One day the Lord gathered together all the insects in the world, all thebeetles, bugs, bees, mosquitoes, ants, locusts, grasshoppers, and othercreatures who fly or hop or crawl, and shut them up in a huge sack welltied at the end. What a queer, squirming, muffled-buzzing bundle itmade, to be sure!

Then the Lord called the woman to him and said, "Woman, I would have youtake this sack and throw it into the sea. But be sure and do not untiethe end of it to look inside; for the sack must on no account be opened, even for a single minute. "

The woman took the sack, wondering very much at the queer size and shapeand feeling of it, and especially at the strange noises which came fromthe inside. 

"What can be in the sack?" she said to herself. "Oh, I wish I knew! Oh, _how_ I wish I knew! Oh, how very, _very_ much I wish I knew!" Hercuriosity increased every minute as she went step by step towards thesea, until when she had gone scarcely a hundred paces she stopped shortand said, "I must know what is inside this sack before I go any farther. I will take just one tiny little peep, and He will never know it. "

Very carefully she untied the neck of the sack. Buzz! Whirr! Hum! Zim!She had opened it but a tiny little crack when out crawled and hoppedand flew the millions and swarms and colonies of all kinds of insects, and away they scattered in every direction. Such a noise as filled theair about the astonished woman's head! Such a wriggling and squirmingand hopping in the grass about her feet!

"Oh, now I know what was in the sack!" she cried. "But I wish I had notlooked. Oh, whatever shall I do? He told me to throw the bag into theocean without looking in. But now the horrid creatures have escapedeverywhere and He will know what I have done. Oh, what will He do topunish me?"

She began to run hither and yon like a crazy woman, picking up the bugsand jumping for the fluttering insects, trying to put them back into thebag. They stung her and bit her and got into her eyes until she screamedwith pain. As fast as she caught one another escaped, and she soon sawthat it was a hopeless task. She could never catch the millions ofcreatures who had scattered away to their homes in every corner of theworld. 

Then the Lord came to her and said very sternly, "O Woman, you havedisobeyed me, just as did the very first woman of all. And you must bepunished both for your disobedience and for your inquisitiveness whichhas led you into the worse sin. Not until you have gathered up every oneof these insects which you have permitted to escape back into the worldshall you be happy. But I will give you wings to help you in the task. You shall become a Woodpecker, and it shall be your task to hunt, huntfor the insects which hide away so slyly at your approach. Not till thelast one of these is gobbled up from the earth shall you return to yourown shape and be a woman once more. "

Then the Lord changed the inquisitive woman into a restless Woodpecker, and with a "tut-tut!" she darted away in pursuit of the insects whichhad brought her into such trouble. 

And that is why to this day one sees the Woodpecker pecking sofrantically on the tree trunks, anxious lest a single insect shouldescape. For she is very tired of being a bird, and is longing to becomea woman once more. But it will be a very long time, I fear, before shegathers up all the wriggling, squirming, hopping, buzzing, stinging, biting things that make life in the country so varied, exciting, andmusical. 

WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES

When the other birds are sound asleep in their nests, with their littleheads tucked comfortably under their feathers, Sister Nightingale, theysay, may not rest, but still sounds the notes of her beautiful song ingrove and thicket. 

Why does she sing thus, all night long as well as through the day? It isbecause she dares not go to sleep on account of the Blindworm, who iswaiting to catch her with her eyes closed. 

Once upon a time, when the world was very new, the Blindworm was notquite blind, but had one good eye. Moreover, in those days theNightingale also had but one eye. As for the Blindworm, it mattered verylittle; for he was a homely creature, content to crawl about in the darkunderground, or under wood and leaves, where nobody saw him and nobodycared. But the Nightingale's case was really quite too pitiful! Fancythe sweetest singer among all the birds, the favorite chorister, goingabout with but one eye, while every one else, even the tiniest littleHumming Bird of all, had two. 

The Nightingale felt very sore about this matter, and tried to concealher misfortune from the other birds. She managed to cock her head theother way whenever she met a friend, and she always flew past anystranger so fast that he never saw the empty socket where her otherpretty eye should be. 

But one day there was great excitement among the birds. Miss Jenny Wrenwas going to be married to young Cock Robin. There was to be a grandwedding; every one was invited, and of course the Nightingale was neededto lead the bridal chorus of feathered songsters. But the poorNightingale was set in a flutter of anxiety by the news. 

"Oh, dear me!" she said, "I do want to go to Jenny's wedding, oh, ofcourse I do! But how can I go? If I do, the other birds will discoverthat I have but one eye, and then how the disagreeable creatures willlaugh at me. Oh dear, oh dear! What shall I do? I cannot go, no, Ireally cannot. But what excuse can I give? Oh, it is not right that thesweetest singer in all Birdland should be laughed at, merely because shehas the misfortune to lack one poor little eye!"

The Nightingale sat on the branch, singing so mournfully that all thecreatures on the ground below went sorrowfully about their dailybusiness. Just then the Nightingale spied a silvery gleam among the deadleaves. It was the Blindworm, a spotted gray streak, writhingnoiselessly along towards the decayed wood of a fallen tree, in which heloved to burrow. And the Blindworm was not sad like the others, neitherseemed he to care in the least about the Nightingale's music. Wormsthink little of sweet sounds. He cocked his one eye up towards theNightingale and winked maliciously. He alone of all creatures knew theNightingale's secret. 

"Good-day, Sister Nightingale, " he said. "How is your eye this morning?We have a goodly pair between us; though I think that mine is rather thebetter of the two. "

Then he disappeared into a tiny opening. For though the Blindworm isnearly a foot long he is so smooth and slippery that he can enter a holewhich is almost smaller than himself. 

The Nightingale was very indignant at being addressed in this familiarway by a miserable, crawling creature who not only could not fly, butwho could not sing a note, and did not know _do_ from _fa_. Besides, it made her angry to think that he knew her secret and talkedaloud about it so that any one might hear. 

"The idea!" she cried. "It is bad enough that I cannot go to the weddingof my dear friend Jenny. But to be jeered at by this creature, it ismore than I can bear. Ha! I have an idea. I will punish him and helpmyself at the same time. I will steal his one eye and wear it to JennyWren's wedding; then no one will ever discover my misfortune. "

Now this was an excellent scheme, but it was not so easy to carry it outas the Nightingale had thought. For the Blindworm was very timid andkept himself carefully hidden in his burrow of soft soil, as if he halfsuspected the Nightingale's plans. Day after day the Nightingale kepteager watch upon his movements, and at last, on the very eve of thewedding, when she had almost given up hope, she spied the Blindwormsound asleep on the moss under a tall tree. 

"Ha!" said the Nightingale to herself very softly. "Now is my chance!"She fluttered into the top of the oak tree, and from there hopped downfrom branch to branch, from twig to twig, until she was directly overthe sleeper's ugly head, over the one closed eye. Then _whirr_! Downshe pounced upon the Blindworm. And before the creature had a chance toknow what was happening, the Nightingale had stolen his eye, and hadpopped it into place in the empty socket on the other side of her beak. 

"Ha, ha!" she sang merrily. "Now I have two bright eyes, as good as anyone's. Now I can go to Jenny Wren's wedding as gayly as I please, and noone shall see more of the ceremony than I. I shall be able to tell justexactly how the bride is dressed, how every little feather is arranged, and how she looks after Parson Crow has pronounced the blessing. Oh, howhappy I am!"

But the poor Blindworm, blind indeed from that day forth, began to cryand lament, begging the Nightingale to give him back his eye. 

"Nay, " said the Nightingale, "did you not laugh at me when you saw mesadly sitting on the tree, mourning because I could not go to thewedding? Now I have stolen your eye, and I can see famously. But youwill never again see me sitting sadly on the tree. "

Then the Blindworm grew very angry. "I will get the eye back!" he cried. "I will steal it from you, as you stole it from me, some time when youare asleep. I will climb up into your nest some night, and I will takeboth your eyes of which you are so proud. Then you will be blind, wholly blind as I am now. "

At these threatening words the Nightingale ceased to sing and becamesilent with fear. For she knew that the Blindworm would do as he said. But again a brilliant thought came to her. 

"Nay!" she trilled gladly. "That you shall never do. I will never sleepagain. I will keep awake always, night and day, with my two bright eyesever looking out for danger. Yes, yes, yes! No one shall ever catch menapping. "

"You cannot help yourself, " said the Blindworm. "You cannot keep awake. You will drowse in spite of everything. I shall yet find you asleep somenight, and then beware!"

"Nay, nay!" warbled the Nightingale, as she flew away to make herselffine for the wedding. "I shall sing, sing, sing night and day henceforthto keep myself awake. And thus I need not fear. Farewell-well-well!"

And so the Nightingale went to the wedding and sang more sweetly in thebridal chorus than she had ever sung before. And after that, althoughshe was weary, oh, so weary! she sang all night long, and all the nextnight and the next. And so she has continued to sing ever since in thelands which are blessed by her presence. For she dares not go to sleepeven for a single moment, knowing that the Blindworm is ever ready topounce upon her and take away the eyes which she is now enjoying. 

MRS. PARTRIDGE'S BABIES

Long, long ago, when the world was very young indeed, the Birds andAnimals used to send their children to school, to Mother Magpie'skindergarten. All the morning long the babies learned their lessonswhich it was needful for them to know. And when the noon hour came theirvarious mammas came to the school bringing lunches for the children. Youcan imagine how gladly they were received by the hungry little scholars. 

One day Mrs. Partridge was very busy with her house-cleaning, and whenthe noontime came she could not leave her work to go to the school withher babies' lunch. 

"Dear me, " she said, looking out of the nest, "here it is noon and thelittle Partridges will be so very hungry. But I really cannot leave homenow. What shall I do? If only some other mamma were going that way. "

She craned her neck and looked eagerly in every direction. And finallyshe spied Madame Tortoise plodding along towards the school, with thelunch for her little Turtlets. 

"Oho, neighbor, oho! Stop a minute!" cried Mrs. Partridge, waving a wingat Tortoise. "Are you going schoolward, as I think? Oh, dear MadameTortoise, if you knew how busy I am to-day. I don't think any one wasever so busy as I am with my house-cleaning. Will you do me a favor, please?"

The Tortoise sniffed. "Well, I am a busy woman myself, " she said, "but Iam willing to oblige a neighbor. What is it you wish, ma'am?"

"Oh, thank you so much!" cried the Partridge. "Dear Madame Tortoise, Ishall never forget your kindness. Now, will you take this bunch of nicewiggly worms to my little ones for their lunch? I shall be so verygrateful. "

"Don't mention it, " snapped the Tortoise, who was rather tired ofhearing Mrs. Partridge's shrill thanks. "I'm perfectly willing to takethe lunch, since I am going to the same place. But I don't know yourbabies. What do they look like, ma'am?"

"Oh, that is easily told, " cried Mrs. Partridge. "They are the mostbeautiful little creatures in the school. They are said greatly toresemble me. You will have no trouble in recognizing them. When youcome to the school just look around at all the children, and pick outthe three most beautiful of all. Those are certain to be mine. Give themthe wiggly worms, please, with my love. And oh, _thank_ you, MadameTortoise, so very much! Some time I will do as much for you. Soneighborly! Thank you!"

[Illustration: _Here are some nice fat wiggly worms!_]

"Don't mention it!" snapped the Tortoise again, very much bored by allthis chatter. She sniffed as she moved slowly along towards the school, with the second lunch carried carefully on her broad shell-back. "Theyare nice fat worms, " she said. 

Now when the Tortoise came to the school it was high noon, and all thechildren were waiting open-mouthed for their mammas and the luncheswhich they expected. Such rows and rows of wide hungry mouths! MadameTortoise moved slowly up and down and round and round, eyeing thevarious children who begged for the nice wiggly worms. "H'm!" she saidto herself, "hungry children seem to look considerably alike, and noneof them are so wondrously beautiful when their mouths are wide opengreedily. I wonder which are Mrs. Partridge's children. She told me togive this lunch to the handsomest babies here. Well, I will, and if Imake a mistake it will not be my fault. Hello! Here are my dear littleTurtlets! Bless the babies, how pretty they are! Why, I declare, I neverrealized that they were so handsome. Certainly, they are thebest-looking children in the school. Then I must give them Mrs. Partridge's luncheon, for so I promised. Yes, my little ones, here isyour lunch which I brought for you. And when you have finished that, here is another, some nice, fat, wiggly worms which mother collected onthe way, --a prize for the handsomest children in the school. "

So the little Turtlets fared wonderfully well that day; but the poorlittle Partridges went hungry, and had dreadful headaches, and went homepeeping sadly to their silly mother. And Mrs. Partridge had no moresense than to be angry with Madame Tortoise, which I think was veryunfair, don't you? For the latter had only done as she was bidden by hersilly and conceited neighbor. 

But after that the Tortoise and the Partridge never spoke to each other, and their children would not play together at school. 

THE EARLY GIRL

There were once two girls who were very dear friends, Zaïca andTourtourelle. One morning Zaïca woke up and said, "O Tourtourelle! Lastnight I had such a strange dream!"

"And so did I!" cried Tourtourelle. "Let us tell each other the dreams. But you first, Zaïca. "

Zaïca began to laugh. "I dreamed I was a pretty bird with a tuft offeathers on my head. I could fly, and, O Tourtourelle! it was great fun!But the most amusing thing of all was that I could sing so finely, andmock all the birds of the forest. Nay, I could even imitate the soundsof animals. I cannot help laughing when I think what a jolly time Ihad. "

"Why, Zaïca!" cried Tourtourelle, wondering, "I dreamed the very samething. I too was a pretty little bird, and I too could imitate all kindsof sounds as I fluttered in the tree-tops. Surely, the dream will cometrue for one of us. How fine that would be!"

"Yes, let it be for the one of us who first rises to-morrow morning, "said Zaïca. And so the two friends agreed. 

Now when it came night-time Zaïca went to bed very early, like a wiselittle girl who wants to rise with the sun. But Tourtourelle said toherself, "I know what I will do, I will not go to sleep. I will sit upall night, and then I am sure to be the first to rise. "

So Tourtourelle perched herself on a high-backed chair and stretched hereyes wide open. For hours and hours she sat there, growing more sleepyevery minute. Towards morning she began to nod; she could hardly keepher eyes open, though she tried to prop the lids with her finger tips. Finally, whether she would or no, she fell fast asleep, poor littleTourtourelle, worn out with her long vigil. 

When the first morning sunbeam peeped into the chamber Zaïca opened hereyes, refreshed and smiling. She sat up in bed remembering the dream, and then jumped lightly to the floor. As she did so she glanced at herfeet, which felt queer. Wonderful! They were little bird claws! Shelooked down at herself. She was covered with soft feathers. She tried tomove her arms, and when she did so she rose lightly from the floor andskimmed out of the window into the garden. Zaïca had become a prettylittle bird, just as she had dreamed. Oh, how happy she was! She heard aLark singing far up in the sky. Opening her mouth, she warbled andtrilled as well as he, until he dropped down quickly to the earth, thinking it must be his mate who sang so sweetly. She spied a Chickenstrayed too far from the mother Hen; and chuckling to herselfmischievously she imitated the warning cry of a Hawk, till the Chick ransquawking back to the shelter of his mother's wing. She heard a houndbaying afar off, and with little trouble echoed the sound so perfectlythat a groom came running out of the stable, whistling for the dog whichhe feared was straying from the kennel. Zaïca found that as in her dreamshe could imitate all the sounds which she heard; and she was so pleasedthat she sang and sang and sang, hopping from tree to tree, teasing theother birds with her mockery, and puzzling them, too. 

As for poor Tourtourelle, when she waked it was very late. She yawnedand rubbed her eyes languidly, for she was still sleepy. Then lookingacross to Zaïca's bed she saw that it was empty. Her heart gave a greatthump, for she longed and longed to be a bird, but now she feared thatshe was too late. In her white gown she ran out into the garden lookingfor Zaïca. But first she saw an old man leading his cow to the pasture. And to the cow he said, "Coo-roo, coo-roo!" coaxing her to hasten. 

"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" cried Tourtourelle, imitating him, she knew not why. And as she said it she wondered at the strange feeling which came overher. For her body felt very light and it seemed as if she could fly. Shelooked down and saw that she was no longer covered with a little whitegown but with soft feathers of ashy gray, while wings sprouted from hershoulders. 

"Oh, I have become a bird!" she tried to say, but all she utteredwas--"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" For Tourtourelle was become a beautifulTurtle-Dove, and that is all a Turtle-Dove can say. 

"Coo-roo, coo-roo!" mocked a voice from the tree. And cocking her littlereddish eye Tourtourelle saw a brilliant Jay hopping in the branches, imitating a Dove. Then it was the song of a Wren that she heard, then aLark, then a Thrush, then a Sparrow-Hawk, --all these sounds coming fromthe one little throat of the happy bird on that bough. Tourtourelletried to do likewise, but all she could sing was "Coo-roo! coo-roo!" Andshe said mournfully to herself:--

"It is Zaïca. She was wiser than I, and earlier, and the dream cametrue for her. Oh dear! Oh dear!" And to this day Turtle-Dove flies aboutsadly uttering her monotonous cry, and listening with a longing thatwould be envy, were she not so good a little bird, to the chatter of herfriend the Jay. 

For Zaïca the Jay is always merry, hopping from tree to tree, playingher jokes upon the other birds whom she deceives with her wonderfulvoice. And she leads a life so gay and exciting that she never findstime to be sad, even over the disappointment of her dear friend, poorlittle Tourtourelle. 

HOW THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT

Once upon a time, our friend Blackbird, who comes first of the featheredbrothers in the spring, was not black at all. No, indeed; he waswhite--white as feather-snow new fallen in the meadow. There are veryfew birds who have been thought worthy to dress all in beautiful white, for that is the greatest honor which a bird can have. So, like the Swanand the Dove, Master Whitebird--for that is what they called himthen--was very proud of his spotless coat. 

He was very proud and happy, and he sang all day long, the jolliestsongs. But you see he did not really deserve this honor, because he wasat heart a greedy bird; and therefore a great shame came upon him, andafter that he was never proud nor happy any more. I shall tell you thestory of how the Whitebird grew grimy and gloomy as we know him, almostas black and solemn as old Daddy Crow. 

Once upon a time, then, Master Whitebird was teetering on a rose-bush, ruffling his beautiful white feathers and singing little bits of poetryabout himself to any one who would listen. 

 "Ho-ho, ho-hee, Just look at me!"

he piped, and cocked his little eyes about in every direction, to seewho might be admiring his wondrous whiteness. 

But all on a sudden his song gurgled down into his throat and chokeditself still, and his eyes fixed themselves upon a tree close by. It wasa dead old tree, and there was a hole in the trunk halfway up to thelowest limb, a round little hole about as big as your two fists. 

Whitebird had seen something black pop into that hole in a sly andsecret way, and he began to wonder; for he was inquisitive, as mostbirds are. He sat quite still on his rose-bush and watched and watched. Presently out of the hole popped a black head, bigger than Whitebird's, with two wise little twinkling eyes. 

"Oho!" said Whitebird to himself, "it is Mother Magpie up to her oldtricks, hiding, hiding. Maybe she has a treasure hidden there. I willwatch, and perhaps I shall find out something worth knowing. "

Mother Magpie was the wisest and the slyest of all the birds, and it wasalways worth while, as Whitebird knew, to take lessons of her. So he satperfectly still until she came cautiously back carrying something in herbeak. It was round and white and glinted like moonlight. Whitebird'seyes stuck out greedily. 

"It is a piece of silver!" he thought, but he sat perfectly still untilthe Magpie had stowed the coin safely in the hollow tree and had hoppedaway as if upon an unfinished errand. "Aha! there is more then. I willwatch to see what comes next, " said Whitebird. And he waited. 

Sure enough. In a little while the Magpie returned, this time bringingsomething which glowed yellow like sunlight. 

"It is a piece of gold!" gasped Whitebird, and his eyes bulged out likethose of lobsters, he was so jealous of her luck. But he silentlywatched her disappear into her tree-cupboard and then hastily depart asbefore toward the mountain. "What comes next?" muttered Whitebird tohimself. "I am dying to peep into that hole. I cannot wait much longer. "

Then, after a while, a third time came back the Magpie to the dead tree. And lo, what she carried in her beak twinkled and trembled and shone inmany colors, like a drop of dew on a velvet flower-cheek. WhenWhitebird saw this sight, he nearly tumbled off his perch withexcitement. 

"It is a diamond!" he cried aloud; "oh, it is a real diamond!"

At this sudden noise from the rose-bush Mother Magpie's nerves were soshocked that she dropped the diamond helter-skelter into the hole. Andin a moment she fell in after it, out of sight. She hoped that no onehad seen her, but little Whitebird knew the place. He hopped after herand, perching on the edge of the hole, peered down into the hollow tree. And there he saw a great heap of silver and gold and precious stones, which Mother Magpie was trying to cover with her wings. 

"Oh, what a treasure! What a treasure!" he piped greedily. "MotherMagpie, you must tell me where you found it, that I may go and get somefor myself. "

But Mother Magpie refused to tell. 

"Oho!" chirped Whitebird, angrily; "we shall see about that! Then I willcall in the fierce birds, Robber Hawk and Fighting Falcon and the bloodyButcher Bird, and they will take your treasure from you, and kill you, too, into the bargain. What do you think of that, Mother Magpie?"

Then she was afraid, for she knew those bad birds; and she saw that shemust trust her secret with Whitebird, since he had already discoveredhalf the truth. 

"Well, if you will promise me not to let any one else know, not evenKing Eagle, I will tell you, " she said. So Whitebird promised. 

"Listen, " said the Magpie. "You must find the cave which is near thetallest oak on the mountain, under the flat stone. In a corner there isa tiny hole, just big enough for you or me to pass. And this is theentrance to a passage which leads down into the cellars of the earth. And when you have gone down and down, farther than any one except myselfever went before, you will come to the palace of the King of Riches. Itis full of gold and silver and precious stones like these you see here. Each chamber is more beautiful and more tempting than the last. But youmust not touch a stone or a single coin, or even a little bit ofgold-dust, until you have seen the King. For first you must offeryourself to be his servant, and then he will be generous; then he willlet you carry away as much treasure as your beak will hold. That is allthere is to it. But beware, greedy Whitebird! Take my advice, and do nottouch a grain of treasure before you see the King, or great evil willbefall you. "

Whitebird promised to do as she said. And then away he flew to the bluemountain and its tallest oak. Close by the great oak, in a lonely spot, he found the flat rock, and under it was the cave where once a bear hadlived. Whitebird hopped in eagerly, and away back in one corner of thecave he found a little round hole, as the Magpie had said; a hole notmuch bigger than an apple. It must have been a tight squeeze for fatMother Magpie!

Whitebird hopped through the hole and found himself in a long, narrowpassage which led down, down, down into places where his eyes were of nouse at all. For he was not like Master Owl, who can see better in thedark than anywhere else. Blindly he hopped on and on, till he came intoa great cavern, bright with a white radiance, as if the moonlightfiltered in from somewhere. It was the first room of the King's palaceof treasure; and it was all of silver, paved with silver, heaped withsilver, shining with silver. Whitebird's eyes glittered and he wanted tostop and take some for himself. But just in time he remembered the wisewarning of Mother Magpie; and so he hopped on over the silver pebblesthrough a silver door into a second room. And this was flooded withyellow light as of sunshine, so dazzling that for a moment Whitebird'syellow eyes could see nothing at all. When he could see, the placeseemed full of yellow eyes like his own, great yellow eyes heaped upfrom floor to ceiling. And when he became used to this he looked againand saw that these were golden coins, and that this was a cavern all ofgold. 

Oh, such a wonderful sight! Oh, such a golden dream! The floor on whichhe stood was deep with gold dust, which squished between his toes likeyellow sand on a sea beach. And then Whitebird lost his head and wentquite mad, forgetting the words of wise Mother Magpie. 

"Gold dust, gold dust, a treasure for me!" he sang, hopping up and downon one leg. "I can carry away a great beakful of the yellow seeds, andeach one will blossom into a golden flower for me--for me--for me!" Hewas wholly crazy, as you see. 

He thrust his bill deep into the gold dust of the floor, and greedilyfilled it more than full, till it dropped over his white, white feathersand splashed his coat so that he was no longer a white bird but a yellowbird. Oh, the silly, greedy thing! But there are worse fates than beinga yellow bird. 

Just at this moment a dreadful roar echoed through the caverns till theyrumbled like an earthquake, and into the golden chamber crashed ahorrible dragon-creature, the guardian of the King's treasure. His eyesblazed red like coals, and from his mouth came smoke and flame so thatthe gold melted before his breath. He rushed straight upon poor littleWhitebird to gobble him up, and as he came he roared: "Thief, thief! whosteals my master's treasure? I scorch you with my eye! I burn you withmy breath! I swallow you into the furnace of my throat. Gr-r-r-r!"

There seemed no chance for Whitebird to escape, the creature was sonear. But with a cry of terror he fluttered and hopped away as fast ashe could toward the narrow passage, through the gold chamber and thesilver chamber, leaving all the treasure behind. (Oh, don't you wish wecould have known how the diamond chamber looked, with its rainbowlight?)

Whitebird hopped and fluttered, fluttered and hopped, feeling thedragon's hot breath close behind frizzling his feathers and blinding hiseyes with smoke. He seemed like to be roasted alive in this horribleunderground oven. But oh, there was the hole close before him! Pouf!With a terrible roar the dragon snapped at him as Whitebird poppedthrough the hole; but he got only a mouthful of burnt tail-feathers. Whitebird was safe, safe in the narrow passage where the dragon couldnot follow. Up and up and up and up he feebly fluttered into the lightof the dear outside world, and then he gave a chirp of joy to find thathe really had escaped. But oh, how tired and frightened he was!

Mother Magpie was sitting on a bush waiting for him, for she had guessedwhat would happen to the greedy bird. And when she saw him she gave asquawk of laughter. 

"O Whitebird, " she chuckled, "what a sight! what a sight! Your lovelycoat, your spotless feathers! Oh, you greedy, greedy _Blackbird_!"

Then he who had been Whitebird looked down at himself and saw what adreadful thing had happened. And he closed his eyes and gave a hoarse, sad croak. For the smoke and flame of the dragon's breath had smirchedand scorched him from top to toe, so that he was no longer white, butthenceforth and forever Blackbird. 

I think Mother Magpie must have told the story to her children, chuckling over the greedy fellow's failure. And they told it to thechildren of sunny France, from whom I got the tale for you. So now youknow why the Blackbird looks so solemn and so sulky in his suit of rustyblack; and why his nerves are so weak that if one suddenly surpriseshim, picking up seeds in the field, he gives a terrible scream offright. For he thinks one is that dreadful dragon-creature who chasedhim and so nearly gobbled him on that unlucky day, long ago. 

Poor Brother Blackbird! Don't let him know I told you all this; it wouldmake him so very much ashamed. 

THE BLACKBIRD AND THE FOX

One day Madame Fox, who was strolling along under the hedge, heard aBlackbird trilling on a branch. Quick as thought she jumped and seizedthe little fellow, and was about to gobble him down then and there. Butthe Blackbird began to chirp piteously:--

"Oh, oh, Madame Fox! What are you thinking of? Just see, I am such atiny mouthful! And when I am gone--I am gone. Only let me free and Iwill tell you something. Look! Here come some peasant women with eggsand cheese which they are carrying to the market at Verrières. Thatwould be a meal worth having! Only let me go, and I will help you, Master Fox. "

The Fox saw that this might be a good plan which the bird proposed, soshe let him go. 

And what do you think the Blackbird did? He began to hop, hop, hoptoward the women, dragging his wing behind him as if it were broken, which is a trick some birds know very well. 

"Look!" cried one of the women, when she caught sight of him. "Oh, lookat the little Blackbird there! His wing is broken and he cannot fly. Ishall try to catch him. " And she ran as fast as she could, making herhands into a little cage to put over him. The other women, too, set downtheir baskets, for convenience--set them down right in the middle of theroad--and joined the chase after the poor little Blackbird, so lame, solame! But always, as they came close to him, he managed to flutter outof reach. 

Meanwhile, Madame Fox went round about by the hedge and came all quietlyand unseen to the place where the baskets waited in the road. And oh!what a good dinner she found there; chickens and eggs and fresh cheesenicely done up for the market. And the greedy old lady ate them all--allthe chickens and the eggs and the cheeses. My! How fat she was when allwas done. 

Now the Blackbird hopped on and on for a long, long way, until, bycocking his eye, he saw that Madame Fox had finished her dinner. Andthen, houff! Up he flew, with a jolly chirp of laughter, right over theheads of the astonished women. What of his broken wing now? He began towhistle, to sing, to chirrup like a crazy bird up there in the air. Thewomen looked at one another sheepishly. 

"Ah, the wicked Blackbird!" they said. "One would have thought that hecould not fly at all. But look at him, the sly creature! Oho, it is apretty trick he has played us!"

They turned back to where they had left their baskets, intending tostart on for the market. But when they came there--well, well! What ashame!--they found the eggs, the chickens, the cheeses all gone--eatenup by the greedy Fox. And then they began to scold and cry. 

"Oh, what misfortune!" they wailed. "We have lost our eggs, ourchickens, and our cheeses, and there is nothing left to carry to market. We have not even a Blackbird to show for our morning's work. Oh dear! ohdear! It is all the fault of that wicked, deceitful little bird. "

And, instead of going on to Verrières, they turned about with theirempty baskets and went back home, a sorry party, scolding and crying allthe way. But long before they reached their homes and their angryhusbands Madame Fox was comfortably snoozing her after-dinner nap underthe hedge; while the happy Blackbird picked up juicy bugs in theneighboring meadow, with one eye cocked to guard against being surpriseda second time by any bushy-tailed rogue. 

[Illustration: _He managed to flutter out of reach_]

THE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH

The Dove and the wrinkled little Bat once went on a journey together. When it came towards night a storm arose, and the two companions soughteverywhere for a shelter. But all the birds were sound asleep in theirnests and the animals in their holes and dens. They could find nowelcome anywhere until they came to the hollow tree where old Master Owllived, wide awake in the dark. 

"Let us knock here, " said the shrewd Bat, "I know the old fellow is notasleep. This is his prowling hour, and but that it is a stormy night hewould be abroad hunting. --What ho, Master Owl!" he squeaked, "will youlet in two storm-tossed travelers for a night's lodging?"

Gruffly the selfish old Owl bade them enter, and grudgingly invited themto share his supper. The poor Dove was so tired that she could scarcelyeat, but the greedy Bat's spirits rose as soon as he saw the viandsspread before him. He was a sly fellow, and immediately began to flatterhis host into good humor. He praised the Owl's wisdom and his courage, his gallantry and his generosity; though every one knew that howeverwise old Master Owl might be, he was neither brave nor gallant. As forhis generosity, --both the Dove and the Bat well remembered hisselfishness towards the poor Wren, when the Owl alone of all the birdsrefused to give the little fire-bringer a feather to help cover hisscorched and shivering body. 

All this flattery pleased the Owl. He puffed and ruffled himself, tryingto look as wise, gallant, and brave as possible. He pressed the Bat tohelp himself more generously to the viands, which invitation the slyfellow was not slow to accept. 

During this time the Dove had not uttered a word. She sat quite stillstaring at the Bat and wondering to hear such insincere speeches offlattery. Suddenly the Owl turned to her. 

"As for you, Miss Pink-eyes, " he said gruffly, "you keep carefulsilence. You are a dull table-companion. Pray, have you nothing to sayfor yourself?"

"Yes, " exclaimed the mischievous Bat, "have you no words of praise forour kind host? Methinks he deserves some return for this wonderfullygenerous, agreeable, tasteful, well-appointed, luxurious, elegant, andaltogether acceptable banquet. What have you to say, O little Dove?"

But the Dove hung her head, ashamed of her companion, and said verysimply:--

"O Master Owl, I can only thank you with all my heart for thehospitality and shelter which you have given me this night. I was beatenby the storm, and you took me in. I was hungry, and you gave me yourbest to eat. I cannot flatter nor make pretty speeches like the Bat. Inever learned such manners. But I thank you. "

"What!" cried the Bat, pretending to be shocked. "Is that all you haveto say to our obliging host? Is he not the wisest, bravest, most gallantand generous of gentlemen? Have you no praise for his noble character aswell as for his goodness to us? I am ashamed of you! You do not deservesuch hospitality. You do not deserve this shelter. "

The Dove remained silent. Like Cordelia in the play, she could not speakuntruths even for her own happiness. 

"Truly, you are an unamiable guest, " snarled the Owl, his yellow eyesgrowing keen and fierce with anger and mortified pride. "You are anungrateful bird, Miss, and the Bat is right. You do not deserve thisgenerous hospitality which I have offered, this goodly shelter which youasked. Away with you! Leave my dwelling! Pack off into the storm and seewhether or not your silence will soothe the rain and the wind. Be off, Isay!"

"Yes, away with her!" echoed the Bat, flapping his leathery wings. Andthe two heartless creatures fell upon the poor little Dove and drove herout into the dark and stormy night. 

Poor little Dove! All night she was tossed and beaten about shelterlessin the storm, because she had been too truthful to flatter the vain oldOwl. But when the bright morning dawned, draggled and weary as she was, she flew to the court of King Eagle and told him all her trouble. Greatwas the indignation of that noble bird. 

"For his flattery and his cruelty let the Bat never presume to flyabroad until the sun goes down, " he cried. "As for the Owl, I havealready doomed him to this punishment for his treatment of the Wren. Buthenceforth let no bird have anything to do with either of them, the Bator the Owl. Let them be outcasts and night-prowlers, enemies to beattacked and punished if they appear among us, to be avoided by all intheir loneliness. Flattery and inhospitality, deceit and cruelty, --whatare more hideous than these? Let them cover themselves in darkness andshun the happy light of day. As for you, little Dove, let this be alesson to you to shun the company of flatterers, who are sure to get youinto trouble. But you shall always be loved for your simplicity andtruth. And as a token of our affection your name shall be used by poetsas long as the world shall last to rhyme with _love_. "

The words of the wise King Eagle are true to this day. So now you knowwhy a great many poems came to be written in which the rhymes _dove_ and_love_ have not seemed to make any particular sense. 

THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE

Once upon a time old Lady Fox was very hungry, but she had nothing toeat, and there was no sign of a dinner to be had anywhere. 

"What shall I do, what shall I do?" whined the Fox. "I am so faint andhungry, but all the birds and all the fowls are afraid of me and willnot venture near enough for me to consult them about a dinner. I have sobad a name that no one will trust me. What can I do to win back therespect of the community and earn a square meal? Ah, I have it! I willturn pious and go upon a pilgrimage. That ought to make me popular oncemore. "

So the Fox started upon the pilgrimage. She had not gone very far whenshe met a Cock, but he knew the character of Madame Fox too well totrust himself near. He flew up into a tree, and from that safe perchcrowed jauntily, "Good morning, Madame Fox. Whither away so fast?"

The Fox drew down the corners of her mouth, trying to look pious, androlled up her eyes as she answered in a hollow voice, "Oh, Master Cock, I am going on a pious pilgrimage. I am sorry for my wicked life, and nowI am going to be good. "

"Ah, " said the Cock, "I am indeed glad to hear that! Going on apilgrimage, are you? Well, in that case I will go with you. "

"Do, Master Cock, do, " answered the Fox fervently. "It will do you good. Come sit upon my broad back and I will carry you. "

The Cock thanked her and climbed upon her back, and so they proceeded ontheir pilgrimage together. After a while they came upon a Dove, whichfluttered away hastily when she saw old Lady Fox, knowing too well herwicked tricks. But the Fox called to her in a gentle voice:--

"Do not be afraid, O Dove. I know why you start at my approach. But Ihave repented of my former sins and have turned pilgrim. My friend, theCock, and I have just started upon our pious journey. Will you join us?"

When the innocent Dove saw the Cock upon the Fox's back she thought thatcertainly everything must be safe, so she answered:--

"Yes, Madame Fox, I will go with you. "

"Jump right up on my back; there is plenty of room beside the Cock, "said the Fox cordially. 

A little further on they met a wild Duck, who waddled away quackingwildly when he saw the Fox trotting towards him. But the sly old ladycalled out to him, smiling:--

"Be calm, little brother. I have given up my former unkind tricks, forwhich I sadly repent, and now I am going on a pious pilgrimage. See, your friends the Cock and the Dove are my companions. "

"In that case I will go along, too, " said the Duck, "for you have agoodly party. "

"That is right, " replied the Fox approvingly. "I thought you would go. Kindly take a back seat with the others. "

Now when these queer pilgrims had traveled for some time they came to acave in the rocks, a deep dark cave which looked like a den. And herethe Fox stopped, saying:--

"Dear brothers, it is time that we paused and thought more carefullyabout our sins. We must cross seas and rivers, and Heaven knows when weshall reach the end of our journey. Let us listen to one another'sconfessions, for I am sure we have all been miserable sinners. Come, Mr. Cock, come into the cave with me and I will hear you first. "

The Cock followed her into the cave, saying with some surprise, "Why, Madame Fox, what have I done that is wicked?"

"Do you not know?" answered the Fox sternly. "Why, do you not begin tocrow at midnight and wake poor tired people out of their first sleep? Goto! You ought to be ashamed! Then again you crow at the mostinconveniently early hour in the morning and make the caravans mistakethe true time, so that they start upon their journeys long before theproper hour and fall into the hands of robbers who prowl about beforelight. These are dreadful sins, Mr. Cock, and you deserve to bepunished. " So the wicked old Fox seized the Cock and ate him all up. 

After the Fox had finished him she came to the entrance of the cave andcalled, "Now you come, little Dove, and tell me what you have done thatis naughty. "

"But I have done nothing, " said the innocent Dove, wondering very much;"of what evil do you accuse me, Madame Fox?"

"When the farmers sow their grain you dig up the yellow kernels and eatthem for your dinner. That is stealing, which is a wicked, wicked sin, and must be severely punished, " cried the hungry Fox. And thereupon sheseized the poor little Dove and ate her up. 

Once more the Fox stood at the door of the cave, stealthily licking herchops, and she called out to the Duck, "Come in, Mr. Duck, and I willhear what you have to say. "

"Well, I have not done anything wrong, " said the Duck positively, "andyou cannot say that I have; can you now, Madame Fox?"

"Oh, indeed and indeed!" exclaimed the Fox. "Have you not stolen theking's gold crown, and do you not wear it on your head, you wickedcreature?"

"Indeed and indeed I have done no such thing. It is not true, MadameFox, as I can prove. Wait a bit and I will bring witnesses. "

So the Duck went out and flew up and down in front of the cave, waiting. Presently along came a Hunter with a gun, who espied the Duck and aimedthe weapon at him. 

"Don't shoot me, " cried the Duck. "What have you against me, O Hunter? Ican tell you where to find worthier game. Come with me and I will showyou a wicked old Fox who eats innocent birds. "

"Very well, " said the Hunter, putting up his gun, "show me the place andI will spare you. "

The Duck led him softly to the entrance of the cave, and pausing therecried out to the Fox inside, "Come out, Madame Fox, I have brought thewitness. "

"Let him come in, let him come in!" cried the Fox, for she had grownvery hungry indeed and hoped for a double meal. 

"No indeed, " answered the Duck; "he insists that you must come out. " Sothe Fox crept stealthily to the door, but as soon as she popped out herwicked old head the Hunter was ready for her, and Bang! That was the endof the Fox's pilgrimage. 

The Duck also had had enough of being a pilgrim. He went home with theHunter and became a tame Duck, and lived happily ever after on the pondnear the Hunter's house. 

THE GROUND-PIGEON

Once upon a time there was a little Malay maiden who lived in the forestwith her father and mother and baby sister. They dwelt very happilytogether, until one day Coora's father decided to clear the ground onthe edge of the forest and have a rice plantation, as many of hisneighbors were doing. 

So one morning early after breakfast he started out with his axe on hisshoulder to cut down the trees and make a clearing. 

"O Father, let me go with you!" begged Coora. "I do so want to see theplantation grow from the very beginning. "

But her father said No, she must stay at home until the trees werefelled. 

"And after that may I go with you?" asked Coora. And her father promisedthat it should be so. 

The days went by and at last the trees were all felled in the clearing. When Coora heard this she jumped up and down on her little bare brownfeet until her anklets tinkled, and cried, "O Father! Now I may go withyou to the clearing, may I not? For so you promised. "

But again her father shook his head and said, "No, Coora, not yet. Youmust wait until the fallen timber has been burned off. Then you shall gowith your mother and me to the planting of the rice. "

Coora was very much disappointed, and the big tears stood in her eyes. But she only said, "Do you promise that I may help plant the rice, really and truly?"

And he called back over his shoulder, "I promise!"

At last the fallen timber was burned away, and the ground was ready forplanting. One morning Coora saw her father and mother making ready to goout together. "Oh, where are you going, Father and Mother?" she asked. 

"We go to the planting of the rice, " answered her father, slinging a bigbag over his shoulder. 

"But you promised that I should go with you when that time came?" criedCoora wistfully. "Please, please may I not be your little helper?"

"No, no, Coora, " answered her mother impatiently. "Do not tease us so. You must stay at home to take care of your little sister. Be a goodgirl this time, and when the rice is well grown we will all go togetherand harvest it. That will be great fun!"

"Shall I really go? Do you promise, Mother?" asked poor Coora hopefully, for she felt sure that her mother would not deceive her. 

"I promise, " said the mother, not looking her in the eyes; and theparents went away through the forest to plant the rice. 

Time went by until the rice had grown tall and was ready for theharvest. Now Coora heard her parents talking of the matter, and she wasvery gay, for now she expected a happy, happy day. She dressed herselfand made ready to go to the harvesting, as her parents had promised. Butwhen she joined them, smiling joyfully, they turned upon her frowningand bade her return to the house and take care of everything until theirhome-coming. Then poor little Coora burst into tears and said, "O myFather and O my Mother, I have obeyed you without a word every time youbroke your promise to me. And still you continue to put me off from dayto day, when this is the thing I long to do so much that it seems as ifmy heart would break. Think of it! The clearing has been made, thetimber burned, the rice planted and grown, and now it is ready for theharvest. But I have not even seen the place where all this hashappened. O Father and Mother, why are you so unkind to me?"

"There, there!" cried her father and mother together, "do not make afuss over so small a matter. You cannot go to-day; but wait until therice is gathered and it is time to tread it out. Then we will let youhelp us, you may be sure. We promise, Coora, that you shall really andtruly go. "

"You promise!" echoed Coora bitterly. "You have promised me before andnothing came of it. " But even while she spoke the unkind parents weregone. 

Then Coora fell to weeping most sorely, for she knew that she could nottrust the word of her father and mother; and that is a most terriblething. At last she rose and wiped away the tears and looked about thelittle cottage where she had been patient through so manydisappointments. And she said to herself, "I can bear it no longer. Itis not right that I should be made to suffer like this when a littlething would make me so happy. I must see the rice field; I will goto-day. "

Coora tidied the cottage, putting everything in its place and making itlook as beautiful as she could. Then she took up the little sister whohad fallen asleep on the floor, and kissing her tenderly placed her inthe hammock which swung from wall to wall of the hut. Lastly Coora tookoff the golden bracelets and earrings and the tinkling anklets which shewore like other little Malay girls, and left them in a shining heapbehind the door. But she kept her necklace about her pretty little neck. 

Now Coora had learned a little magic from a witch, just enough magic toserve her turn. She went out and picked two palm leaves which shefastened on her shoulders and changed herself into a bird, a bright, beautiful Ground-Pigeon, with many-colored metallic feathers. But thenecklace still made a band about her pretty little neck, as you may seeon every Ground-Pigeon to this day. 

Coora the Ground-Pigeon fluttered away through the forest until she cameto the rice plantation where her parents were at work. She alighted on adead tree close by them and called out, "Mother, O Mother! I have leftmy earrings and bracelets behind the door and have put my little sisterin the hammock. "

Astonished at these words her mother looked up, but saw no one, only aGround-Pigeon perched on the tree over her head. "Father, " she cried toher husband who was at work beside her, "did you not hear Coora's voicejust now?"

"Yes, I thought so, " answered the father angrily. "The wicked girl musthave disobeyed me and have followed us here after all. I will punish herif this is so. " They called to her, "Coora, Coora!" until the forestreëchoed. But no one appeared or answered. 

"I will go home and see if she is there, " said the mother. "Either Iheard Coora speak or there is some magic in the forest. " And shehastened back to the cottage. There she found the baby in the hammockand the bracelets and earrings in a shining heap behind the door, as thevoice had said, but there was no Coora anywhere. Surprised and anxious, once more the mother ran back to the plantation. 

"Coora is gone, husband!" she cried. "It must have been her own voicewhich we heard just now. Hark! She speaks again!"

Again from the tree they heard a sweet voice calling, "Mother, O Mother, I have left my earrings and bracelets behind the door and my littlesister in the hammock. Good-by, Coo-o-o-ra!" As she spoke her own nameCoora's voice warbled and crooned into the soft _coo_ of aGround-Pigeon's note, and her parents glancing up saw that this birdmust be their child, their Coora, magically changed. 

"Let us cut down the tree and catch the wicked girl!" cried the father. And seizing his axe he chopped away lustily until the tree fell with acrash. But even at that moment the Pigeon fluttered away to anothertree, crooning again the soft syllables which she has spoken ever since, "Coo-ra, coo-ra, coo!"

From tree to tree about the rice plantation the distracted parentspursued the Pigeon; but it was in vain to try to capture her. Ever sheescaped them when they seemed about to lay hands upon her soft feathers. After following her flight for many miles they were obliged to returnhome, sad and sorry and repentant. For they knew now that it was theirown unkindness and their broken promises which had driven their daughteraway from the cottage, never to return. 

The beautiful Ground-Pigeon still lingers near the rice plantationswhich she had so longed to visit. Still she plaintively calls her name, and still she wears the necklace about her pretty little neck. And thelittle Malay maidens love her very dearly because she was once a girllike them. 

SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE

The Crocodile is one of the hungriest bodies that ever lived. When he islooking for a dinner he will eat almost anything that comes withinreach. Sometimes the greedy fellow swallows great stones and chunks ofwood, in his hurry mistaking them for something more digestible. Andwhen he is smacking his great jaws over his food he makes such a greedy, terrible noise that the other animals steal away nervously and hideuntil it shall be Master Crocodile's sleepy-time. He is too lazy towaddle in search of a dinner far from the river where he lives. But anyanimal or even a man-swimmer had best be careful how he ventures intothe water near the Crocodile's haunts. For what seems to be agreenish-brown, knobby log of wood floating on the water, has littlebright eyes which are on the lookout for anything which moves. And belowthe water two great jaws are ready to open and swallow in the prey ofMr. Hungry-Mouth. 

But no matter how hungry the Crocodile may be, he will not touch theHen, even if she should venture into his very jaws; at least, that iswhat the Black Men of the Congo River will tell you. And surely, as theyare the nearest neighbors of the big reptile they ought to know if anyone does. Now this is the story which they tell to explain why theCrocodile will not eat the Hen. 

Once upon a time there was a Hen, a common, plump, clucky mother Hen, who used every day to go down to the river and pick up bits of food onthe moist banks, where luscious insects were many. She did not know thatthis Congo River was the home of the Crocodile, the biggest, fiercest, scaliest, hungriest Crocodile in all Africa. But one day when she wentdown to the water as usual she hopped out onto what looked like a mossylog, saying to herself:--

"Aha! This is a fine old timber-house. It is full of juicy bugs, I know. I shall have a great feast!"

Tap-tap! Pick-pick! The Hen began to scratch and peck upon the roughbark of the log, but Oh dear me! suddenly she began to feel veryseasick. The log was rolling over! The log was teetering up on end likea boat in a storm! And before she knew what was really happening thepoor Hen found herself floundering in the water in the very jaws of theterrible Crocodile. 

"Ha, ha!" cried the Crocodile in his harsh voice. "You took me for alog, just as the other silly creatures do. But I am no log, Mrs. Hen, asyou shall soon see. I am Hungry Crocodile, and you will make the fifthdinner which I have had this evening. "

The Hen was frightened almost to death, but she kept her presence ofmind and gasped frantically as she saw the great jaws opening to swallowher:--

"O _Brother_, don't!"

Now the Crocodile was so surprised at hearing the Hen call him Brotherthat he kept his jaws wide open and forgot to swallow his dinner. Hekept them open for some time, gaping foolishly, wondering what the Hencould mean, and how he could possibly be her brother. And by the time hehad remembered how hungry he was, there was nothing for him to eat. Forthe Hen had skipped away just as fast as her feet would take her. 

"Pouf!" snorted the Crocodile. "Her brother, indeed! I am not herbrother, and she knows it very well. What a fool I was to be caught bysuch a word! Just wait till I catch her again and we will see. I will_brother_ her!" And he swam sulkily away to hide his mortification inthe Congo mud, with only the end of his long nose poking out as aventilator for his breathing. 

Now, though the Hen had had so narrow an escape, it had not sufficientlytaught her a lesson. A few days afterwards once more she went down tothe river, for she could not resist the temptation of the bug-dinnerwhich she knew she should find there. But she kept her eyes open sharplyfor any greeny log which might be floating on the water, saying toherself, "Old Hungry-Mouth shall not catch me napping this time. I knowhis wicked tricks!"

But this time the Crocodile was not floating on the water like a greenylog. He was lying still as still, sunning himself on the river bankbehind some tall reeds. Mrs. Hen came trotting down to the water, aplump and tempting sight, cocking her head knowingly on one side as shespied a real log floating out beyond, which she took to be her enemy. And as she scratched in the soft mud, chuckling to think how sly shewas, with a rush and a rustle down pounced the Crocodile upon her, andonce more, before she knew it, she found herself in the horrid gatewayof his jaws, threatened by the double rows of long, white teeth. 

[Illustration: "_O Brother, don't!_"]

"Oho!" snapped the Crocodile. "You shall not escape me this time. Iam a log, am I? Look at me again, Mrs. Hen. Am I a log?" And he came ather to swallow her at once. 

But again the Hen squawked, "O _Brother_, don't!"

Again the Crocodile paused, thunderstruck by this extraordinary word. "Oh, bother the Hen!" he cried, "what can she mean, really? How can I beher brother? She lives in a town on the land, and I live in my kingdomof mud and water. How could two creatures possibly be more unlike?How"--but while he had been thinking of these hows, once more the Henhad managed to escape, and was pelting back to her barnyard as fast asshe could go. 

Then indeed the Crocodile was angry. He determined to go and see Nzambi, the wise witch princess, about the matter. She would tell him what itall meant. But it was a long journey to her palace and he was awkwardand slow in traveling upon land. Before he had gone very far he wastired and out of breath, and stopped to rest under a banana tree. 

As he lay panting in the shade he saw his friend Mbambi, the greatLizard, hurrying past through the jungle. 

"Oh, Mbambi!" cried old Hungry-Mouth, "stop a moment. I want to speakwith you. I am in great trouble. "

So the Lizard drew near, wagging her head wisely, for it pleased her tobe consulted by the big Crocodile. "What can it be, dear friend, that istroubling you this day?" she said amiably. "Surely, no one would be sorude or rash as to offend the King of Congo River. But tell me yourtrouble and perhaps I can advise you. "

"Listen to me, then, " said the Crocodile. "Almost every day a nice fatHen, --Oh, Mbambi! so delightfully fat and tempting!--comes to my riverto feed. Well, why don't I make her my dinner? you ask. Now hearken:each time, just as I am about to catch her and carry her to my home shestartles me by calling me '_Brother_. ' Did you ever hear of anything somaddening? Twice I have let her escape because of the word. But I canstand it no longer, and I am on the way to Princess Nzambi to hold apalaver about it. " (By "palaver" the slangy Crocodile meant a long, serious talk. )

"Silly idiot!" cried the Mbambi, not very politely. "Do nothing of thekind. You will only get the worst of the palaver and show your ignorancebefore the wise Nzambi. Now listen to me. Don't you know, dearCrocodile, that the Duck lives on the water, though she is neither afish nor a reptile? And the Duck lays eggs. The Turtle does the same, though she is no bird. The Hen lays eggs, just as I do; and I am Mbambi, the great Lizard. As for you, dear old Hungry-Mouth, you know that atthis moment"--here she whispered discreetly, looking around to see thatno one was listening, --"at this moment in a snug nest dug out of thesand on the banks of the Congo, Mrs. Crocodile has covered with leavesto hide them from your enemies sixty smooth white eggs. And in a fewweeks out of these will scamper sixty little wiggly Crocodiles, yourdear, homely, scaly, hungry-mouthed children. Yes, we all lay eggs, mysilly friend, and so in a sense we are all brothers, as the Hen hassaid. "

"Sh!" whispered the Crocodile, nervously. "Don't mention those eggs ofmine, I beg of you. Some one might overhear. What you say is undoubtedlytrue, " he added pensively, after thinking a few moments. "Then I supposeI must give up my tempting dinner of Hen. I cannot eat my Sister, canI?"

"Of course you cannot, " said the Mbambi, as he rustled away through thejungle. "We can't have everything we want in this world. "

"No, I see we cannot, " sighed the Crocodile, as he waddled back towardsthe banks of the Congo. Now in the same old spot he found the Hen, whohad been improving his absence by greedily stuffing herself onbeetle-bugs, flies, and mosquitoes until she was so fat that she couldnot run away at the Crocodile's approach. She could only stand andsquawk feebly, fluttering her ridiculous wings. 

But the Crocodile only said, "Good evening, Sister, " very politely, andpassing her by with a wag of his enormous tail sank with a plop into thewaters of the Congo. 

And ever since that time the Hen has eaten her dinner in tranquil peace, undisturbed by the sight of floating log or basking shape of knobbygreen. For she knows that old Hungry-Mouth will not eat his Sister, theHen. 

THE THRUSH AND THE CUCKOO

In the wonderful days of old it is said that Christ and Saint Peter wenttogether upon a journey. It was a beautiful day in March, and the earthwas just beginning to put on her summer gorgeousness. As the twotravelers were passing near a great forest they spied a Thrush sittingon a tree singing and singing as hard as he could. And he cocked hishead as if he was very proud of something. 

Saint Peter stopped at the foot of the tree and said, "I wish you a goodday, Thrush!"

"I have no time to thank you, " chirped the Thrush pertly. 

"Why not, pretty Thrush?" asked Saint Peter in surprise. "You have allthe time in the world and nothing to do but sing. "

"You mistake, " cried the Thrush. "I am making the summer! It is I, I, Iwho make the green grass grow and the flowers bud. Look, how even nowthe world is growing beautiful in answer to my song. " And the conceitedlittle bird continued to warble as hard as he could, --

 "To-day I shall marry, I and no other! To-morrow my brother. "

Christ and Saint Peter looked at each other and smiled, then went upontheir way without another word, leaving the Thrush to continue his taskof making the summer. 

This was in the morning. But before midday the clouds gathered and thesky darkened, and at noon a cold rain began to drip. The poor Thrushceased his jubilant song and began to shiver in the March wind. By nightthe snow was felling thick and fast, and where there had been a greencarpet on the earth was now spread a coverlet of snowy white. Shiveringand like to die of cold the Thrush took refuge under the tree in themoss and dead leaves. He thought no more of his marriage, nor of hisbrother's, but only of the danger which threatened him, and of thediscomfort. 

The next morning Christ and Saint Peter, plodding through thesnow-drifts, came upon him again, and Saint Peter said as before, "Iwish you good day, Thrush. "

"Thank you, " answered the Thrush humbly, and his voice was shaky withcold and sorrow. 

"What do you here on the cold ground, O Thrush-who-make-the-summer, andwhy are you so sad?" asked Saint Peter. And the Thrush piped feebly, --

 "To-day I must die, I and no other! To-morrow my brother. "

"O foolish little bird, " said Saint Peter. "You boasted that you madethe summer. But see! The Lord's will has sent us back to the middle ofwinter, to punish your boasting. You shall not die, he will send the sunagain to warm you. But hereafter beware how you take too much credit foryour little efforts. "

Since that time March has ever been a treacherous and a changeful month. Then the Thrush thinks not of marriage, but of his lesson learned inpast days, and wraps himself in his warmest feathers, waiting for theLord's will to be done. He is no longer boastful in his song, but singsit humbly and sweetly to the Lord's glory, thanking him for the summerwhich his goodness sends every year to happy bird and beast and child ofman. 

 * * * * *

Now after this adventure with the Thrush, Christ and Saint Peter wentupon their journey for many miles. At last, weary and hungry, theypassed a Baker's shop. From the window came the smell of new warm breadbaking in the oven, and Christ sent Saint Peter to ask the Baker for aloaf. But the Baker, who was a stingy fellow, refused. 

"Go away with you!" he cried. "I give no bread to lazy beggars!"

"I ask it for my Master, who has traveled many miles and is most faintand weary, " said Saint Peter. But the Baker frowned and shook his head, then strode into the inner shop, banging the door after him. 

The Baker's wife and six daughters were standing at one side when thesethings happened, and they heard all that took place. They were generousand kind-hearted bodies, and tears stood in their eyes at the Baker'srough words. As soon as he had gone out they wrapped up the loaf andgave it stealthily to Saint Peter saying, --

"Take the loaf for your Master, good man, and may he be refreshed byit. "

Saint Peter thanked and blessed them and took the loaf to Christ. Andfor their charity the Lord set these good women in the sky as the SevenStars, --you may see them to this day shining in love upon the sleepingworld. But the wicked Baker he changed into a Cuckoo; and as long as hesings his dreary song, "Coo-coo! Coo-coo!" in the spring, so long theSeven Stars are visible in the heaven, so folk say. 

THE OWL AND THE MOON

When the moon is round and full, if you look very carefully at thegolden disk you can see in shadowy outline the profile of a beautifullady. She is leaning forward as if looking down upon our earth, andthere is a little smile upon her sweet lips. This fair dame is PutriBalan, the Princess of the Moon, and she smiles because she remembershow once upon a time she cheated old Mr. Owl, her tiresome lover. 

Putri Balan, so they tell you in Malay, was always very, very beautiful, as we see her now. Like all the Malay women, Putri Balan loved to chewthe spicy betel-nut which turns one's lips a bright scarlet. It isbetter, so they say, than any kind of candy, and it is considered muchnicer and more respectable than chewing-gum. So Putri Balan was notunladylike, although she chewed her betel-nut all night long. 

Now, ever since the day when Mr. Owl carelessly let the naughty littleWren escape from prison, the shamed and sorry old fellow had neverdared to show his face abroad in daylight. Gradually his eyes grewblurred and blinky, till now he could not see anything by day, even ifhe were to try. 

So it happens that there are many delightful things about which old Mr. Owl does not know, --things which take place while the beautiful sun isshining. But also there are marvelous sights, unknown to early-sleepingbirds, which he enjoys all by himself. For at night his queer eyes arewonderfully strong and bright. All day long he sits in his hollow tree, but when the other feathered folk are drowsing upon their roosts, or aresnugly rolled up in their little nests, with their heads tucked undertheir downy wings, old Mr. Owl puts on his round spectacles and goesa-prowling up and down the world through the woods and meadows (likeHaroun-al-Rashid in the streets of Bagdad), spying all sorts of queerdoings. 

And this is how old Mr. Owl happened to see the fair Princess PutriBalan, smiling down from her moon upon the sleeping world of birds whohad never seen her and never would see her in all her loveliness. 

How beautiful she was! How bright and wonderful! Old Mr. Owl stared upin wide-eyed astonishment, and then and there fell in love with her, and resolved to ask her to be his wife. 

Cramming on his spectacles more tightly and ruffling the feathers abouthis neck, he flew up and up and up, as high as ever he dared to go, until he was within hailing distance of the moon. Then he called out inhis softest tones, --which were harsh enough to any ears, --

"O fair Moon-Maiden, O beautiful Princess, will you marry me? For I loveyou very dearly. "

The Princess Putri Balan stopped chewing her betel-nut for a moment andlooked down to see what daring creature might thus be addressing her. Soon she spied Mr. Owl with his goggle-eyes looking up at her adoringly. He was such a ridiculous old creature, and his spectacles glinted soqueerly in the moonlight, that Putri Balan began to laugh and answeredhim not at all. She laughed so hard that she almost swallowed herbetel-nut, which might have been a serious matter. 

Mr. Owl continued to stare, for he saw nothing funny in the situation. Again he repeated in his hoarse voice, "O fair Moon-Maiden, O beautifulPrincess, will you marry me? For I love you very dearly. "

Again the Princess laughed, for she thought it a tremendous joke; andagain she nearly choked. Mr. Owl waited, but she made him no otheranswer. However, he was a persistent lover. All night long he went onasking the same question, over and over again, until the Princess PutriBalan was quite worn out trying not to choke with laughter while shechewed the betel-nut. At last she said impatiently, --

"O Mr. Goggle-Eyes! Do give me a moment's peace! You make me laugh sothat I cannot chew my betel-nut. Yes, I will say _yes_, if you will onlyleave me to finish my betel-nut undisturbed. I will marry you. But youmust go away until I have quite done. "

Then Mr. Owl was filled with joy. "Thanks, thanks, O most graciouslady!" he said. "I will go away and leave you to finish your betel-nutundisturbed. But I shall come again to-morrow night, and by that timeyou will have done with it, and then you will be mine!"

Mr. Owl flew back to his home in the hollow tree, for it was almostmorning, and already he was growing so blind that he could hardly findthe way. But the Princess Putri Balan went on chewing the betel-nut, andto herself she said, --

[Illustration: _Putri Balan began to laugh_]

"How am I to rid myself of this bore? I cannot chew this littlebetel-nut forever; there must be an end to it before long. Mr. Owlwill certainly come again to-morrow night, and then, according to mypromise, I must become his wife. I cannot marry old Goggle-Eyes. Ohdear! What shall I do?"

As she chewed her betel-nut the Princess Putri Balan hit upon a plan. She would manage to cheat old Mr. Owl after all. She would never finishthe betel-nut! She took the little bit that remained, --and it was adangerously little bit, for the Princess had been chewing all nightlong, except when she was laughing, --and reaching out from the moon shetossed it down, down, down upon the earth. At the same time she said amagic moon-charm: and when the bit of betel-nut reached the earth, itbecame a little bird, --the same which the Malay people call the HoneyBird, with brilliant, beautiful plumage. And the Princess Putri Balancried out to it from her golden house, --

"Fly away, pretty little bright bird! Fly as far and as fast as ever youcan, and keep out of Mr. Owl's way. For it is you who must save me frombecoming his unhappy wife. "

So the Honey Bird flew away, a brilliant streak, through the Malaywoods, and hid himself in a little nest. 

When night came out stole Mr. Owl, with his spectacles in place, and uphe flew to his Princess, whom he now hoped to call his very own. 

"Good evening, my beautiful Princess!" he cried. "Have you finished yourbetel-nut at last, and are you ready to keep your promise?"

But the Princess Putri Balan looked down at him, pretending to be sad, though there was a twinkle in her beautiful eye; and she said, --

"Alas! Mr. Owl, a dreadful thing has happened. I lost my betel-nut, before it was quite finished. It fell down, down, down, until I think itreached the earth. And I cannot marry you, according to my promise, until it is finished. "

"Then it must be found!" cried Mr. Owl. "I will find it. My eyes aresharp at night and nothing escapes them. Shine kindly on me, Princess, and I will find the betel-nut for you, and you shall yet be mine. "

"Go then, Mr. Owl, " said the Princess, smiling to herself. "Go and lookfor the betel-nut which I must finish before I marry you. Searchcarefully and you may find it soon. "

Poor Mr. Owl searched carefully, but he could not find the bit ofbetel-nut. Of course he could not find it, when it had changed and flownaway as a beautiful, many-colored bird! All that night he sought, tillthe sun sent him blinking to his tree. And all the next night hesought, and the next, and the next. And he kept on seeking for days andmonths and years, while the Princess Putri Balan smiled down upon himand was happy at heart because of her clever scheme. 

Old Mr. Owl never found out the trick, nor suspected the innocent littleHoney Bird, whom indeed he scarcely ever saw, because it was asunset-sleeping bird, while he was a wistful, lonely, sad night-prowler. Up and down, up and down the world he goes, still looking for thebetel-nut of the Princess Putri Balan, which he will never find. And ashe flies in the moonlight he glances ever longingly at the beautifullady in the moon, and sobs "Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!" in grief and despair. Forafter all these centuries he begins to fear that she will never be hiswife. 

THE TUFTED CAP

One dark night Master Owl left his hollow tree and went prowling aboutthe world as usual upon his hopeless hunt for the Princess's betel-nut. As soon as he was out of hearing a long, lean, hungry Rat crept to thehouse and stole the dainties which the lonely old bachelor had storedaway for the morrow's dinner. The thief dragged them away to his ownhole and had a splendid feast with his wife and little ones. But the Owlreturned sooner than the Rat had expected, and by the crumbs which hehad dropped upon the way tracked him to the hole. 

"Come out, thief!" cried the Owl, "or I will surely kill you. Come outand return to me my morrow's dinner. " The Rat trembled with fear atthese threatening words. 

"Alas!" he squeaked, "I cannot do that, for already the dinner is eaten. My wife and hungry little ones have eaten it. Pity us, for we werestarving!"

"Bah!" screamed the Owl, "I care little for that. It is for my dinneralone that I care. Since you have eaten it you shall certainly die, " andhe began to scratch fiercely at the mouth of the hole. The Rat trembledmore than ever. But suddenly he had an idea which made his whiskerstwitch. 

"Hold!" he cried. "Dear, good Master Owl, permit me to live and I willgive you something which is worth many dinners, something thatmen-creatures value very highly, and which with great labor and pain Ibrought away from one of their dens. "

"Umph!" grumbled the Owl. "Let us see what it is. "

The Rat crawled timidly out of his hole with the peace-offering; andwhat do you think it was? Why, a gimlet! Just a plain, ordinary, well-sharpened gimlet for boring holes. 

"Hoo!" cried the Owl. "I don't think much of _that_. What is it goodfor?" Now the Rat had not the faintest idea as to what the gimlet reallywas, but he had another idea instead. 

"That? Why--that--oh, _that_! That is a very valuable thing. It is ableto give you the keenest delight. I will show you how it works. But youmust do just as I say, or it will be of no use. "

"Hoo!" cried the Owl. "Continue with the directions. "

"Well, first you must stick the thing point upwards in the ground at thefoot of this tree. "

"Very good, " said the Owl, doing as was suggested, and waitingexpectantly for the next move. 

"Now you must mount to the top of the tree and slide down the trunk, "said the Rat solemnly. Old Master Owl was certainly very far from wisethat night, for he obeyed the Rat's word without a suspicion. He flew tothe top of the tree, and then, sitting back and giving a warning cry of"Hoo-hoo!" coasted down the trunk with the speed of lightning. Butmidway down he struck a knot in the tree and rolled heels over head. Andwhen he reached the ground of course he landed fast upon the sharp pointof the gimlet, just as the Rat had planned. 

With bloody head, and hooting with pain, the Owl started off in pursuitof the Rat, resolved this time to kill him without fail. The Rat wasnimble, and his fear added to his speed, but at last the Owl caught him. Ruffled and ferocious, the great bird was about to tear him in pieces, when the Rat once more begged his life. 

"It was only a joke, " he cried. "Only a silly joke. Spare me this once, dear Master Owl, and I will give you something that you really need. Look at your bleeding head. You cannot go about the world with thatexposed. Spare my life, and I will give you a lovely cap of tuftedfeathers to hide the bite of the wicked sharp-thing-made-by-man. Pray, let me go, dear Master Owl. "

The Owl considered for a moment, and then decided to accept the bargain. For he thought of Putri Balan, the Princess of the Moon, and knew thathe should lose his last chance to win her if she happened to see himwith this ridiculous wound in his head. 

So the Rat gave him a nice cap of tufted feathers, which he wears tothis day; and the Owl let the thief go free. But after that there was acoolness between them, as you may well imagine. 

THE GOOD HUNTER

Once upon a time there was an Indian who was a famous hunter. But he didnot hunt for fun; he took no pleasure in killing the little wildcreatures, birds and beasts and fishes, and did so only when it wasnecessary for him to have food or skins for his clothing. He was a verykind and generous man, and loved all the wood-creatures dearly, oftenfeeding them from his own larder, and protecting them from theirenemies. So the animals and birds loved him as their best friend, and hewas known as the Good Hunter. 

The Good Hunter was very brave, and often went to war with the fiercesavages who were the enemies of his tribe. One sad day he set forth witha war party, and they had a terrible battle, in which the Good Hunterwas slain, and his enemies took away his scalp, leaving him lying deadin the forest. 

The Good Hunter had not remained long cold and lifeless in the shadowystillness, when the Fox came trotting through the woods. "Alack andalas!" cried the Fox, spying the body stretched on the leaves. "Here isour dear friend, the Good Hunter, slain! Alack and alas! what shall wedo now that our dear friend and protector is gone?"

The Fox ran out into the forest crying the death lament, which was thesignal to all the beasts that something most sorrowful had happened. Soon they came flocking to the spot, all the animals of the forest. Byhundreds they came, and surrounding the body of their friend raised themost doleful howls. For, though they rubbed him with their warm noses, and licked him with their warm tongues, and nestled against him withtheir warm fur, they could not bring him back to warm life. 

They called upon Brother Bear to speak and tell them what to do; for hewas the nearest relative to man. The Bear sat up on his haunches andspoke to the sad assembly with tears in his eyes, begging each animal tolook carefully through his medicine-box and see whether there might notbe some balm which would restore the Good Hunter to life. Then eachanimal looked carefully through his medicine-box of herbs and healingroots, bark and magic leaves, and they tried every remedy that theyknew. But nothing brought the color to their friend's pale cheeks, norlight into his eyes. He who had helped them so often was helpless now, and they could not aid him. Again the kind beasts sank back on theirhaunches and raised a mighty howl, a requiem for the dead. 

Wild and piercing and long-drawn, the sound swept through the forest, such a sound of sorrow as had never been heard before. The Oriole, whowas flying overhead, heard and was surprised. Soon his brightness cameflashing down through the leafy boughs like a ray of sunlight into thegloom and darkness of the forest. 

"What has happened, O four-footed friends, " he asked, "that you mourn somightily?" Then they showed him the body of the Good Hunter lying in themidst of their sad company, and the Oriole joined his voice of sorrow totheirs. 

"O friend of the birds, " he cried, "is there no bird who can aid younow, you who have fed us so many times from the door of your generouswigwam? I will call all the feathered tribes, and we will do our best. "

So the Oriole went forth and summoned the birds to the forest council. There was a great flapping of wings, a great twittering and chirping, questioning and exclamation when the birds assembled to hear the sadnews. Every one was there, from the tiny Humming Bird to the greatEagle of the Iroquois, who left his lonely eyrie to pay his respects tothe Good Hunter's memory. The poor little birds tried everything intheir power to bring back to life their dear friend. With beak and clawand tender wing they strove, but all their efforts were in vain. TheirGood Hunter was dead, and his scalp was gone. 

Then the great Eagle, whose head was white with years of wisdom andexperience, spoke to the despairing assemblage of creatures. From hislofty perch above the world the Eagle had looked down upon centuries ofchange and decay. He knew every force of nature and all the strangethings of life. The hoary-headed sage said that the Good Hunter couldnot be restored until his scalp was found. Then all the animals clamoredthat they might be allowed to go and seek for the missing scalp. But tothe Fox was given this honor, because he had first found the body of theGood Hunter in the forest. The Fox set out upon his search, in his foxyway. He visited every hen-roost and every bird's-nest, but no scalp didhe find. "Of course not!" screamed the birds when he returned from hisfruitless quest, "Of course no bird has taken the Good Hunter's scalp. You should have known better than that, Master Fox. "

So the next time a bird was sent upon the search. The Pigeon Hawk wentforth, confident that she should be successful. But she was in such ahurry and flew so fast that she saw nothing, and she too returnedwithout that for which she sought. Then the White Heron begged that hemight be allowed to try. "For, " said he, "you all know how slowly I fly, and how careful I am to see everything. "

"Yes, especially if it be something good to eat, " chirped the saucy Jay, "do not trust him, birds, he is too greedy. "

Yet the Heron was allowed to go. He flapped away, slowly and sedately, and the Council sat down to await his return. But the Heron had not gonefar when he came to a field of luscious wild beans; and he stopped totake a mouthful or two. He ate, and he ate, and he ate, the greedyfellow! until he could eat no more. And then he was sleepy, so that heslept and slept and slept. And when he awoke he was so hungry that hefell to eating again, while the Council waited and wondered and waited. At last they grew impatient and began to suspect that the Jay had beenright, which was indeed the case. They decided to wait no longer for theHeron, who did not return. Then the Crow stepped forward and said, "Letme go, I pray you, for I think I know where the scalp may be found; notin the nest of a bird, not in the den of any animal, not in the wateryhaunt of a fish. For all the creatures of earth, air, and water arefriends of the Good Hunter. It is men who are most cruel to men:therefore in the tents of men must we look for the missing scalp. Let mego to seek it there, for men are used to see me flying near and will notsuspect why I come. "

The Crow flew forth upon his errand, and before long came to the wigwamwhere lived the warrior who had slain the Good Hunter. And sure enough, there, outside the tent, was the scalp of the Good Hunter, stretched ona pole to dry. The Crow flew near, and the warrior saw him, but thoughtnothing of it, for he was used to seeing crows about the camp. Presentlywhen no one was looking the skillful thief managed to steal the scalp, and away he flew with it to the Council in the forest. Great was therejoicing of the birds and beasts when they saw that the Crow had beensuccessful, and they said more kind things to him than he had heard formany moons. At once they put the scalp upon the Good Hunter's head, butit had grown so dry in the smoke of the warrior's wigwam that it wouldnot fit. Here was a new trouble. What was to be done to make the scalpsoft and flexible once more? The animals did their best, but theirefforts were of no avail. 

Once more the great Eagle came forward and bade them listen. 

"My children, " he said, "my wings are never furled. Night and day forhundreds of years the dews of heaven have been collecting upon my backas I sit on my throne above the clouds. Perhaps this dew may have ahealing power such as no earthly fountain holds. We will see. "

Gravely the Eagle plucked a long feather, and dipping it in the dewwhich moistened his plumage, applied it to the stiffened scalp. Immediately it became soft, and could be fitted to the head of the GoodHunter closely as when it had first grown there. The birds and animalshurried away and brought leaves and flowers, bark and berries and roots, which they made into a mighty healing balsam to bathe the poor headwhich had been so cruelly treated. And presently great was their joy tosee a soft color come into the pale cheeks of the Good Hunter, and lightinto his eyes. He breathed, he stirred, he sat up and looked around himin surprise. 

"Where am I? What has happened?" he asked. 

"You slept and your friends have wakened you, " said the great Eagletenderly. "Stand up, Good Hunter, that they may see you walk once more. "

The Good Hunter stood up and walked, rather unsteadily at first, back tohis own wigwam, followed by a great company of happy forest creatures, who made the sky ring with their noises of rejoicing. And long, longafter that, the Good Hunter lived to love and protect them. 

THE COURTSHIP OF MR. STORK AND MISS HERON

This is a very good story to read at night just before going to sleep. And if you ask why, I must only tell you that you will find out beforeyou reach the end of the tale. 

 * * * * *

There was once a Heron, a pretty, long-legged, slender lady Heron, wholived in the mushy-squshy, wady-shady swamp. The lady Heron lived in herswamp all alone, earning her living by catching little fish; and she wasvery happy, never dreaming that she was lonesome, for no one had toldher what lonesome was. She loved to go wading in the cool waters; sheloved to catch the little fish who swam by unsuspectingly while shestood still upon one leg pretending to think about something a thousandmiles away. And she loved to look at her slender, long-legged bluereflection in the water; for the lady Heron was just a little bit vain. 

Now one day Mr. Stork came flying over the mushy-squshy, wady-shadyswamp where the Heron lived, and he too saw the reflection in the water. And he said to himself, "My! How pretty she is! I wonder I never noticedher before. And how lonesome she must be there all by herself in such anasty, moist, mushy-squshy old swamp! I will invite her to come andshare my nice, warm, dry nest on the chimney-top. For to tell the truth, I am growing lonely up there all by myself. Why should we not make amatch of it, we two long-legged creatures?"

Mr. Stork went home to his house, which he set prettily in order: for henever dreamed but that the lady Heron would accept his offer at the veryfirst croak. He preened his feathers and made himself as lovely as hecould, and forthwith off he flew with his long legs dangling, straightto the wady-shady swamp where Miss Heron was standing on one leg waitingfor her supper to get itself caught. 

"Ahem!" croaked Mr. Stork, waving his wing politely. "Good evening, MissHeron. Fine weather we are having, eh? But how horribly moist it is downhere! I should think that your nice straight legs would grow crookedwith rheumatism. Now I have a comfortable, dry house on the roof. "

"Pouf!" grunted Miss Heron disdainfully. 

But Mr. Stork pretended not to hear, and went on with his remarks, --"anice dry house which I should be glad to have you share with me. Come, Miss Heron! Here I am a lonely old bachelor, and here are you a lonelyold maid"--

"Lonely old maid, indeed!" screamed the Heron interrupting him. "I don'tknow what it is to be lonely. Go along with you!" and she splashed wateron him with her wings, she was so indignant. 

Poor Mr. Stork felt very crestfallen at this reception of hiswell-meaning invitation. He turned about and stalked away towards hisnest upon the roof, without so much as saying good-by to the lady. 

But no sooner was he out of sight than Miss Heron began to think. He hadsaid that she was lonely; was she lonely? Well, perhaps he ought to knowbetter than she, for he was a very wise bird. Perhaps she was lonely, now that she came to think of it. However, there was no reason why sheshould go to live in that stupid, dry, old nest on the house-top. Whycould he not come to dwell in her lovely, mushy-squshy, wady-shadyswamp? That would be very pleasant, for he was a good sort of fellowwith nice long legs; and there were fish enough in the water for two. Besides, he could then do the fishing for the family; and, moreover, there would then be two to admire her reflection in the water. Yes; hermind was made up. She would invite him. She glanced down at herreflection and settled some of the feathers which her fit of temper hadruffled out of order. Then off she started in pursuit of Mr. Stork. 

Mr. Stork had not gone very far, for a sad, rejected lover is a dawdlingcreature. And so she came up with him long before he was in sight of hisnest. 

"Good evening, Mr. Stork, " said the lady nervously. "I--I have beenthinking over what you said to me just now, and I have concluded thatperhaps I was a bit hasty. To tell you the truth, sir, I _am_ a triflelonely, now that you suggest the thought to me. And it would be veryagreeable to have pleasant company. I am ready, sir, to agree to yourproposal. But of course I cannot think of changing my abode. My swamp isthe most beautiful home that a maiden ever knew, and I could not give itup for any one. As for your ugly old nest on the chimney-top, bah! Icannot endure the idea with patience. "

Mr. Stork was gradually stiffening into an angry attitude, but she didnot notice. "Now you can come and live in my swamp, " Miss Heron went onwarmly, "and you will be very welcome to catch fish for me, and to lookin my mirror. It will be very nice indeed!"

"Nice!" croaked the Stork, "I should say as much! What can you bethinking of, Miss? I to give up my comfortable home on the house-top, close by the warm chimney, and go to live in that disgustingmushy-squshy bog of yours! Ha-ha! That is really too ridiculous! I bidyou good morning. " And with an elaborate bow he turned his back and flewaway. 

Miss Heron flounced back to her swamp, mortified because she had left itto propose terms to so ungallant a fellow. But hardly had she begun hertardy supper when once more Mr. Stork's shadow darkened the mirrorbefore her, and once more she heard his apologetic croak. 

"Ahem, ahem!" he began. "I hope I find you well, Miss Heron? I havebeen--ha hum!--considering your last most condescending words, and Ifind that I have been hasty. You are so good as to express a belief thatI should make a pleasant companion. So I should! so I should! And as foryou, " he bowed gallantly, "one can readily imagine the charm of yoursociety. Come, then, Miss Heron, why should we not make a happy couple, if we can only arrange this one little foolish matter? Be my wife: comelive with me in my lovely nest. "

But at this word Miss Heron uttered a little scream and cried, "Be offwith you, you villain! Leave my premises instantly!" and she waved herwings so fiercely that once more Mr. Stork took to his and flapped awayto his home. 

Now when he had gone Miss Heron found that she had been bad-tempered, and she thought how pleasantly they might have arranged the matter ifonly she had been more moderate. So she spread her beautiful blue wingsand flew to the housetop where Mr. Stork lived, and, perching on thechimney, she said, --

"Oh, Mr. Stork, I was bad-tempered and impolite, and I beg your pardon. Let us be friends once more. Leave this hot old stupid house-top andcome live in my cool, moist, wady-shady swamp, and I will be your veryloving little wife. "

But the Stork arose in his nest, flapping his wings crossly, and cried, "Be off, you baggage! Don't come here to insult my beautiful house. Beoff, I say, to your mushy-squshy, rheumaticky bog. I want no more ofyou!"

So the Heron flew back disconsolately to the watery swamp, where shebegan to feel very lonely indeed. And the Stork, too, began to feel verylonely indeed; and he was sorry that he had been rude to a lady. Presently, once more he came flapping to the mushy-squshy marsh, wherehe found Miss Heron just ready to go to sleep. 

"Oh, dear Miss Heron!" he cried. "I made a great mistake, and saidthings for which I am truly sorry. Do come to be my loving wife, as youpromised, and we will live happily ever after on the chimney-top, farabove the other birds. And I will never be cross again. "

But the Heron answered, "Away with you! I want to go to sleep. I amtired of your croaking voice. Leave me alone!" So the Stork flew away ina huff. 

But the Heron could not sleep, she was so lonely. So she rose, and, flying through the still night air, came again to the Stork's high-builtnest. 

"Come, Storkie dear, " she said in her sweetest tone, "come home to yourdear wife's house in the wady-shady, mushy-squshy marsh, and I will begood. "

But the Stork pretended to be asleep, and only snored in reply. So theHeron flew home in a huff. But the Stork could not truly sleep, he wasso lonely. So he rose, and, flying through the still night air, cameagain to the Heron's home in the marsh. 

"Come, my dear, " he said. "Come home to your dear husband's house, and Iwill be good. "

But the Heron made no answer, pretending to be asleep. So the Stork flewhome in a huff. But the Heron could not truly sleep, she was so lonely. So she rose at break of day, and, flying through the cool morning air, came again to the Stork's nest. 

"Come, Storkie dear, " she said, "come home to your dear wife's house, and I will be good. "

But the Stork did not answer, he was so angry. So the Heron flew home ina huff. 

 * * * * *

And if you are not asleep when you get as far as this, you may go onwith the story by yourself, perfectly well. You may go on just as longas you can keep awake. For the tale has no end, no end at all. It isstill going on to this very day. The Stork still lives lonely on hishouse-top, and the Heron still lives lonely in her marsh, growinglonelier and lonelier, both of them. But because they have no tact, theyare never able to agree to the same thing at the same time. And theykeep flying back and forth, saying the same things over, and over, andover, and over.... 

THE PHOENIX

On the top of a palm tree, in an oasis of the Arabian desert, sat thePhoenix, glowering moodily upon the world below. He was alone, quitealone, in his old age, as he had been alone in his youth, and in hismiddle years; for the Phoenix has neither mate nor children, and thereis never but one of his kind upon the earth. 

Once he had been proud of his solitariness and of his unusual beauty, which caused such wonder when he went abroad. But now he was old andweak and weary, and he was lonely, oh! so lonely! He had lived too long, he thought. 

For years and years and years, afar and apart, he had watched the comingand going of things in the world. He had seen the other birds created, and had watched them undergo strange changes in form and color untilthey became as they are to-day. He had seen the hundred bright eyes ofArgus, the watchman, set in the Peacock's tail. He had seen the flamingheart of the volcano tamed and quieted until it became the flaminglittle Humming-Bird. He had seen the Crow turn black and the Goldfinchbecome a gaudy bird, and he knew how and why all these things had cometo pass. For centuries, how many he knew not, he had watched the birdshatch out of their little eggs, flutter their feeble little wings, flyaway to build nests for their little mates, and finally die anddisappear as birds do, leaving no trace behind. 

But the Phoenix did not die. He was of different clay from theseordinary feathered creatures. He was the glorious bird of the Sun, theonly one, the gold-and-crimson one, who when he went abroad filled allcreatures with awe of his beauty and wisdom and mystery, so that theydared not come near, but followed him afar off, hushing their song andadoring silently. The Phoenix fed not on flowers or fruit ordisgusting insect-fry, but on precious frankincense and myrrh andodoriferous gums. And the Sun himself loved to caress his plumage ofgold and crimson. 

As for men, they also had adored him in time past, and had built templesin his honor. They also were puny mortals, scarcely longer of life thanthe birds themselves. The Phoenix had seen many generations of mengrow up, do good or evil deeds, and die, sometimes leaving grandmonuments upon the earth, sometimes disappearing from knowledge likethe very birds, leaving scarcely a trace behind. 

In his time great kings had lived and reigned and turned to dust. Prophets had grown hoary, said their word, and passed away, leaving noecho. Poets had sung and had died singing. But the Phoenix, lookingdown from the palms of his desert, saw it all and did not die. 

All this had been his pride and honor. How he had enjoyed his strength, his beauty, his wisdom, and the knowledge that he was honored and adoredby thousands who had never even seen his glory! But now, now all waschanged. He was grown old and tired. He felt his loneliness and helonged to die. 

His wings were feeble. Of late he had not dared to venture far from thedesert. He dreaded the curious gaze of the other birds, who would findhis beauty dimmed, and would scorn, perchance, the faded glory whichthey had once held in awe. For years he had not ventured within sight ofmen, and he knew that most of them had forgotten his existence, nay, even denied that he had ever lived. He feared that there might not be asingle heart in all the world that thrilled to his name. 

Thinking thus mournfully, the Phoenix sat upon the top of the tallestpalm. His plumage of crimson and gold glowed in the last rays of thesetting sun. His head was drooping, and his eye lustreless. The joy oflife was gone. Slowly the Sun sank towards the horizon, a red eye fixedupon the Phoenix steadily. Suddenly across the gray waste of sanddotted a beam of light, intensely bright. A single ray from thatwatchful Eye seemed to flame as it reached the palm tree and pierced tothe very heart of the Phoenix. A thrill ran through his body. He drewhimself together, and his eye gleamed with new lustre as he fixed itsteadily upon the dazzling disk just touching the horizon. Dark stoodthe palm against the desert, but the Phoenix was bathed in suddenlight. It was the signal, the signal for which he had been waiting, though he knew it not. The five hundred years were ended. The mystery ofhis life was about to be solved. 

As the sun sank below the horizon, eagerly the Phoenix set about thetask which was before him. At last he might build the nest which tillnow he had never known. On the top of the highest palm he would buildit, that it might receive from the blessed East the first beam of themorning sun. Marvelously strengthened for the task, back and forth tothe ends of the earth his wings of crimson and gold bore the Phoenixthat night. For this was to be no nest of sticks and straw. Of preciousthings must it be made, and well he knew where such were to be found. Ofsilky leaves and grass interwoven with splinters of sandal-wood were thewalls. Then on the bottom of the nest he laid, bit by bit, a pile ofsweet-smelling gums, cinnamon and spice, spikenard, myrrh, camphor, ambergris, and frankincense, with no meaner choice. 

All night he labored, beak and talon, until the nest was ready. And asthe first tints of dawn began to streak the east, the Phoenix roseonce, high into the air, gazing with wistful eyes over the world whichhe had loved; then, slowly sinking to the palm, he poised his gorgeousbody upon the fragrant nest. With wings spread wide, and eyes fixedeagerly upon the spot where the Sun was sure to rise, he waited, waited. 

At last the golden Eye appeared. As on the night before, one radiantbeam seemed to single out the lonely palm. One shaft of flame pierced tothe nest whereon the Phoenix sat. It was the final signal to the Birdof the Sun. Immediately the great bird began to fan the sweet-smellingmass with his wings. The burning ray grew brighter, --a pungent, wonderful aroma of mingled fragrances filled the air. Gradually the Sunrose, great and glorious, and as it advanced into the heaven a thincloud of smoke floated from the palm tree, and wound away across thedesert towards the east. Faster and faster fanned the great wings of thePhoenix, until when the Sun shone full down through the palm tree top, the whole mass burst into flame, in the midst of which the Phoenixblended crimson and gold. High in the air rose the fire, diffusingabroad all the sweet odors of Araby the blest. For a little while itglowed, then gradually sank, lower and lower, until but a pile of ashesremained at the bottom of the nest. 

But lo! Was the Phoenix dead? What was this creature risen in youthand beauty from the ashes? A bird like the Eagle in shape, but nobler, larger, stronger, more gracious even than the King of Birds, a brilliantvision of crimson and gold, rose like a flame from the nest, hung for amoment above the palm, looking eagerly at the Sun, which baptized him inits splendor. A new Phoenix lived in the world. Once more the ancientglory was renewed. Once more youth, joy, and hope sprang from thePhoenix's ashes and rejoiced in the centuries of sunshine before him. Death was indeed worth dying to make this life worth living!

Slowly the young Phoenix descended to the nest which had been at oncea sepulchre and a cradle. Tenderly careful of the parent ashes which itheld, with lusty beak and talon he tore the nest bodily from thebranches, and set out upon his pious journey. He knew not where he went, nor why, but the Sun drew him to the East. 

As he sped, through the sky, a flash of gold and crimson, the lesserbirds gathered to wonder and admire. Flocks of them followed at adistance, a train of worshipers, chorusing the glory of the new-bornwonder. He bore his head high with its burden, and his heart was filledwith pious joy. It was good to be a Phoenix, good, good!

At last he reached the place which unknowingly he sought. The Sun alonehad been his guide. To the city of Heliopolis in Egypt he came; to thegreat Temple of the Sun, brightly adorned with crimson and gold, thePhoenix colors. 

There upon the altar he laid the precious ashes. And lo! There were folkwaiting to receive them, --many little children, and some elders ofchildlike heart, who took the ashes and laid them reverently in theshrine. The Phoenix was not forgotten; he was never to be forgotten solong as the world should last. 

The new Phoenix flew back to the Arabian desert to live his fivehundred years as each of his race had done, sacred, afar, and apart, butnot forgotten, though in his old age he might come to deem so. For inthe bright Temple of the Sun there are always folk of childlike sympathywho delight to honor the eternal Phoenix of romance and mystery, --thedear, undying memory of a time long past. 

The Riverside Press_Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. __Cambridge, Mass. , U. S. A. _