we didn't have to do unpleasant things. I've just made up my mind that
the people who won't do hard things, when they ought to, have the
hardest times in the end. Wish I'd minded my mother and eaten gravel
when she told me to, and I'm not going to let you be as foolish as I
was."
Just then he heard somebody say of him, "What a fine-looking fellow he
is growing to be! I like him ever so much now."
It was the Dorking Chicken who had laughed at him. He ran after a
Grasshopper, and she ran after the same Grasshopper, and they ran
against each other and the Grasshopper got away, so of course they had
to wander off together to find something to eat, and after that they
became great friends.
The Shanghai Hen looked lovingly after him and raised one foot in the
air. "Now," she said, "I am perfectly happy."
THE GOOSE WHO WANTED HER OWN WAY
It would be hard to tell which family is the most important among the
farmyard people. There is no one animal so wise as Collie, the farmer's
dog, and all the rest love him and mind him when he is sent to bring
them up from the pasture or to drive them to the water. Still, he does
not spend his days in barn or field and only comes with his master or
for a visit now and then.
You may remember how the Garter Snake and the old Tree Frog were the
leaders in the meadow, and how in the forest all looked up to the Ground
Hog. These people were patient and old, and partly because they were old
and had had many years in which to think about life, they were very
wise. In the farmyard the Oxen were the most patient and the oldest, and
it was to them that all the animals went when they were in trouble.
There were also the Horses, fine strong creatures, always helping
somebody else and working all day during most of the year. They drew the
reaper through the tall grain, and where in the morning had been a field
of waving golden wheat, at sunset were bundles or sheaves of gathered
grain, and the stubble was ready for the fowls. They were busy people;
and sometimes during the winter they liked to remind their neighbors how
much they had done.
Then again, there were the Cows, who are the sisters of the Oxen. They
are large and there are many of them, yet they are not so wise, and that
is easily understood. All that they have to do on the farm is to give
milk for the butter-and cheese-making, and for the farmer's children to
drink. No farmer could get along without his Cows, but they do not work
like their brothers. They have so easy a time that they do not learn
much. You know, when people work, they have to think, and when people
think enough useful thoughts it makes them wise. That is one of the many
reasons why it is so foolish to be lazy.
Truly, it would be hard to say which farmyard family is the most
important, but there is no trouble at all in telling which family think
themselves the most so. If you ask any Goose, she will tell you that one
of their flock is worth five Horses or a dozen Cows. Nobody else would
tell you this, and if you should speak of it to the span of Bays, or the
Dappled Gray, or even the youngest Colt in the stable, they would answer
you only with a hearty Horse laugh. The Cows would smile and reply,
"What a Goose she was to say that!"
There has always been a flock of Geese on the farm, and their neighbors
are so used to their queer ways that they only smile when the Geese put
on airs, and it is a good-natured smile, too. They even feel rather
sorry for them when they lose their feathers, although the Nigh Ox once
said that if it were not for being plucked once in a while, the Geese
would really be too airy to live with.
Perhaps the Nigh Ox was right in what he said, for certainly after they
have worn their feathers all winter, they hold their heads higher than
ever, and tell what they think and what they would do, and it is well
they should be reminded that they work for a living like all their
neighbors. The farmer's wife never plucks the Geese until warm weather
comes. Then she takes all the soft, short feathers that they have worn
through the winter, and this leaves them looking very ragged indeed.
There was a time, years ago, when Geese had to give up their long
tail-and wing-feathers to be whittled into pens, but these Geese didn't
know about that, and there was nobody in the farmyard old enough to
remember it and tell them, so they thought they had a pretty hard time
in even giving up their breast feathers.
"Sssss!" the Gander used to say, "if the farmer's boys must have
feather pillows on which to lay their heads, why do they not grow their
own feathers?"
"Humph!" said the Nigh Ox once; "If you must have oats to eat, why don't
you grow the oats?" But the Gander was already waddling away and
pretended not to hear him.
It is in the winter that the Geese put on the most airs. Then, when the
Horses are being harnessed, they say to each other, "Dear me! Wouldn't
it be dreadful to work in that way for a living?" And sometimes, when
the team is hitched to a post by the farmhouse, they waddle past in a
single line with the Gander at the head, and say to the Horses: "Hear
you have to take a load of wood to town. It's too bad. Hope you won't
get very tired. We are going to the river for a nice cold swim.
Good-bye." Then they march off with their heads held high, and as soon
as their backs are turned, the Horses look at each other and laugh
softly. They know that there is nothing in the world better than good,
honest, hard work, no matter of what kind it is.
Every winter the Geese forget about having to be plucked, and every
spring they are surprised to lose their feathers. They are plucked four
times before fall comes, and these four times come so near together that
even they can remember from one to another. You would think that then
they would not be so airy, but instead of saying, "Of course we work for
our living--why shouldn't we?" they say, "Why, yes, we do let the
farmer's wife have some of our feathers when she wants them. We suppose
you might call it work to grow feathers for her, still it does not take
much of our time, and it is quite different from drawing loads and
getting tired as the Horses and Oxen do. Growing feathers is genteel."
They do not remember anything long, and so, when they have made a
mistake once, they are likely to make the same mistake over and over
again. Then, too, they cannot tell big things from little things, and
they are not happy unless they can have their own way all the time. And
you know that nobody can be sure of that. It all comes of their not
being willing to think hard, and sometimes it makes them a great deal of
trouble, as it did on the day when the Gray Goose would not go through
the farmyard gate.
This was soon after the Gander and his wife had hatched their brood of
seven Goslings, and they were taking them at once to the brook. It was
a happy day for all the flock. The Gander and the Mother Goose were glad
because their children were safely out of the shell, and because they
would no longer have to sit with cramped legs on the nest. Ganders are
good fathers, for they cover the eggs half of the time, while the Mother
Goose is resting. The other Geese were not only proud of the Goslings,
but they were glad to have the Gander and the Mother Goose free to go
around with them again. They had missed them very much.
The gate from the farmyard into the meadow stood wide open, and all the
Geese except the Gray one followed the Gander through. The Gray Goose
tried to go through a small hole in the fence very near the gate. She
squeezed her head into it and stretched her neck on the meadow side of
the fence, but she could not get any farther, although she pushed until
she was dizzy.
[Illustration: THE GRAY GOOSE TRIED TO GO THROUGH.]
"Wait for me," she cried. "Wait for me-ee!"
"Hurry, then," said the Gander.
"I am hurrying," she cried, and she pushed with all her strength, but
since the hole in the fence was so small, she did not get any farther
than before.
"Go through the gateway," said the Nigh Ox, who was grazing near by.
"Sssss!" said the Gray Goose stiffly. "I would rather go through here. I
have chosen to go this way."
"Oh!" said the Nigh Ox, "excuse me! Do go through there by all means!"
"We are going on," called the Gander; "we would wait, but the Goslings
are in a hurry to take their first bath. Come as soon as you can."
The Gray Goose tried harder than ever to go the way that she had chosen,
but it only made her so out of breath that she had to lie down and rest.
Once she thought she heard somebody laugh, yet when she looked at the
Nigh Ox, who was the only person around, he was lying with closed eyes
and solemnly chewing his cud, so she decided that she must have been
mistaken.
Down by the brook the rest of the flock were cackling merrily, and she
could see the seven Goslings swimming with the Geese and the Gander.
"Oh," she cried, "how I wish I were with them! I don't see what is the
matter with this hole in the fence. The farmer ought to make it bigger."
She pushed and scolded and fussed until her neck was sore and she was
too tired to swim if she had a chance, so she sat down to rest. She did
remember what the Nigh Ox had said; still, if she couldn't go as she had
planned, she wouldn't go at all. She walked into the barn to find a cool
and shady place, lowering her head as she stepped over the threshold of
the high front door.
"What did you do that for?" twittered a Swallow.
"Because I don't want to hit my head on the top of the doorway;" she
replied. "I always do so. All of our flock do so."
"Tittle-ittle-ittle-ee," laughed the Swallow, as she darted away and
alighted on the fence by the Nigh Ox. "Why isn't the Gray Goose in
swimming with the rest?" asked she.
"Because she can't push her fat body through that hole in the fence,"
said the Nigh Ox, switching his tail toward it as he spoke.
"Why doesn't she go through the gateway, then?" asked the Swallow.
"Because she says she would rather go the other way, and that if she
can't go that way, she won't go at all."
"And she is missing all that fun?" said the Swallow.
"All of it," answered the Nigh Ox, "but then, you know, she is such a
Goose!"
WHY THE SHEEP RAN AWAY
It was during the hottest summer weather that the wind-storm came. The
farmyard people always spoke of it as "the" wind-storm, because not even
the Blind Horse, who had lived on the farm longer than any of his
neighbors, could remember anything like it. "I recall one time," he
said, "when a sweet-apple tree was blown down in the fall. The Hogs
found it and ate all the fruit before the farmer knew that it was down.
You should have heard them grunt over it. They were afraid the farmer
would drive them away before they had eaten it all. Eh, well! They ate
all they wanted, but one of the Pigs told me afterward that it made them
sick, and that he never wanted to see another sweet apple as long as he
lived. That was a hard storm, but not like this, not like this."
It had come in the night when the farmyard people were asleep, and there
was much scampering to shelter. The fowls, who were roosting in the old
apple-tree, did not have time to oil their feathers and make them
water-proof. They just flew off their perches as fast as they could and
ran for the open door of the Hen-house. When they were once inside, they
ruffled up their feathers and shook themselves to get rid of the
rain-drops. Fowls do not like wet weather, and it vexes them very much
to be in the rain. Their neighbors know this so well that it has become
their custom to say of an angry person that he is "as mad as a wet Hen."
The Cows were in their part of the barn with their necks between the
stanchions, so there was nothing for them to do but to keep still and
think of those who were out of doors. The Horses were in their
comfortable stalls. They had been working hard all day and the farmer
had gotten a good supper of oats ready for them in their mangers, so
that they could eat quickly and go to sleep, instead of staying awake
and walking around to get their own suppers in the pasture.
Out in the meadow the Sheep huddled close together under a low-branching
tree, and stood still until the storm passed. They had been so warm that
the cool rain made them comfortable, but the wind pushed them and swayed
the branches of the trees. The loud thunder made the Lambs jump. They
liked the lightning and made a game out of it, each one telling what he
had seen by the last flash. The clouds, too, were beautiful, and flew
across the sky like great dark birds with downy breasts, dropping now
and then shining worms from their beaks.
At last the air became cool and clear, and the clouds flew far away
toward the east. Next, the stars peeped out, first one, then two, then
six, then twenty, and then so many that you could not have counted
them,--more than the leaves on a maple-tree, more than the grass-blades
of the meadow. The Sheep ran around a little to shake off the rain-drops
and warm themselves, then they huddled down again to sleep.
When the sun arose in the eastern sky, his warm beams fell upon the
Sheep and awakened them. "How cool and beautiful a day," they said.
"What a morning for a run!"
"I can beat you to the tall grass!" called one little Lamb to the rest,
and they all scampered around the field, throwing up their heels for
joy. They had been away from their mothers for awhile, and had learned
to eat grass instead of milk. They were quite proud of the way in which
they broke it off, with quick upward jerks of their heads, and their
teeth were growing finely. They did not expect any upper front teeth,
for in place of them the Sheep have only a hard pad of flesh.
Soon they came running back to the flock. "There is a Dog over there,"
they cried, "a strange Dog. He doesn't look like Collie. He is coming
this way, and we are afraid."
Their uncle, the Bell-Wether, looked over to where the strange Dog was,
then turned quickly and began to run. The bell around his neck clinked
at every step. When the other Sheep heard the bell they raised their
heads and ran after him, and the Lambs ran after them. The strange Dog
did not follow or even bark at them, yet on they went, shaking the
shining rain-drops from the grass as they trod upon it. Not one of them
was thinking for himself what he really ought to do. The Bell-Wether
thought, "I feel like running away from the Dog, and so I will run."
The other Sheep said to themselves, "The Bell-Wether is running and so
we will run."
And the Lambs said, "If they are all running we will run."
Along the fence they went, the bell clinking, their hoofs pattering, and
not one of them thinking for himself, until they reached a place where
the fence was blown over. It was not blown 'way down, but leaned so that
it could be jumped. If a single one of the flock, even the youngest
Lamb, had said, "Don't jump!" they would have stayed in the pasture; but
nobody said it. The Bell-Wether felt like jumping over, so he jumped.
Then the Sheep did as the Bell-Wether had done, and the Lambs did as the
Sheep had done.
Now they were in the road and the Bell-Wether turned away from the
farmhouse and ran on, with the Sheep and the Lambs following. Even now,
if anybody had said, "Stop!" they would have stopped, for they knew that
they were doing wrong; but nobody said it.
After a while a heavy wagon came rumbling down the road behind them, and
the Bell-Wether jumped over a ditch and ran into a hilly field with
woodland beyond. Because he went the Sheep did, and because the Sheep
went the Lambs did, and nobody said "Stop!" You see, by this time they
were very badly frightened, and no wonder. When they saw the strange Dog
they were a little scared, for they thought he might chase them. If they
had made themselves stay there and act brave they would soon have felt
brave. Even if the Dog had been a cruel one, they could have kept him
from hurting them, for Sheep have been given very strong, hard foreheads
with which to strike, and the Bell-Wether had also long, curled horns
with three ridges on the side of each. But it is with Sheep as it is
with other people,--if they let themselves be frightened they grow more
and more fearful, even when there is no real danger and now all of their
trouble came from their not stopping to think what they ought to do.
They hurried up to the highest ground in the field, and when they were
there and could go no farther, they stopped and looked at each other.
One Lamb said to his mother, "Why did we come here? It isn't nearly so
nice as our own meadow."
"Why, I came because the Bell-Wether did," she answered. Then she turned
to the Bell-Wether and said, "Why did you bring us here?"
"I didn't bring you here," he replied. "I felt like coming, and I came.
I didn't make you follow."
"N-no," answered the Sheep; "but you might have known that if you came
the Sheep would come."
"Well," said the Bell-Wether, "you might have known that if you Sheep
came the Lambs would, so you'd better not say anything."
"Baa!" cried the Lambs. "We are hot and thirsty and there isn't any
water here to drink. We want to go back."
Everybody was out of patience with somebody else, and nobody was
comfortable. They did not dare try to go home again, for fear they would
have more trouble, so they huddled together on the top of the hill and
were very miserable and unhappy. They hadn't any good reason for coming,
and they could not even have told why they ran to the hilltop instead of
staying in the pleasant hollow below.
There was a reason for their running up, however, although
they didn't know it. It was because their
great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather and-grandmother were
wild Sheep in the mountains, and when frightened ran up among the rocks
where there was nobody to hurt them. They got into the habit of running
up-hill when scared, and their children did the same, and their
children's children did the same, and now even the farmyard Sheep do so,
although they long ago forgot the reason why.
"Bow-wow-wow!" rang out on the still morning air.
"There's Collie!" cried the Lambs joyfully. "He's coming to take us
home. Let's bleat to help him find us more quickly." All the Lambs said,
"Baa! Baaa!" in their high, soft voices, and their mothers said "Baa!
Baaa!" more loudly; and the Bell-Wether added his "Baa! Baaa!" which was
so deep and strong that it sounded like a little, very little, clap of
thunder.
Collie came frisking along with his tail waving and his eyes gleaming.
He started the flock home, and scolded them and made fun of them all the
way, but they were now so happy that they didn't care what he said. When
they were safely in the home meadow again and the farmer had mended the
fence, Collie left them. As he turned to go, he called back one last
piece of advice.
"I'm a Shepherd Dog," he said, "and it's my work to take care of Sheep
when they can't take care of themselves, but I'd just like to be a
Bell-Wether for a little while. You wouldn't catch me doing every
foolish thing I felt like doing and getting all the flock into trouble
by following me! Nobody can do anything without somebody else doing it
too, and I wouldn't lead people into trouble and then say I didn't
think. Bow-wow-wow-wow!"
[Illustration: COLLIE AND THE BELL-WETHER.]
The Bell-Wether grumbled to himself, "Well, the rest needn't tag along
unless they want to. Pity if I can't jump a fence without everybody
following." But down in his heart he felt mean, for he knew that one who
leads should do right things.
THE FINE YOUNG RAT AND THE TRAP
The Mice were having a great frolic in the corn-crib. The farmer's man
had carelessly left a board leaning up against it in such a way that
they could walk right up and through one of the big cracks in the side.
It was the first time that some of them had ever been here. When the
farmer built the crib, he had put a tin pan, open side down, on top of
each of the wooden posts, and had then nailed the floor beams of the
crib through these pans. That had kept the hungry Mice from getting into
the corn.
This was a great day for them, and their gnawing-teeth would certainly
be worn down enough without giving them any extra wear. That, you know,
is one thing about which all Rats and Mice have to be very careful, for
their front teeth are growing all the time, and they have to gnaw hard
things every day to keep them from becoming too long.
There was only one thing that ever really troubled these Mice, and that
was the Cat. They did not feel afraid of Hawks and Owls because they
lived indoors. Weasels did not often come up to the barn, and men made
so much noise when they were around that any wide-awake Mouse could
easily keep out of their way. With the Cat it was different. She was
always prowling around in the night-time, just when they had their
finest parties; and many a young Mouse had been scared away from a
midnight supper by seeing her eyes glowing like balls of fire in the
darkness. By daylight it was not so bad, for they could see her coming,
and besides, she slept much of the time then.
They were talking about her when in the corn-crib. "Have any of you seen
the Cat to-day?" asked the Oldest Mouse.
Nobody answered. Then one young fellow, who was always worrying, said:
"Supposing she should come out of the barn now! Supposing she should
come right toward this corn-crib! Supposing she should stand right under
the floor! Supposing she should catch us as we jumped down!
Supposing----"
But here the other young Mice all squeaked to him to stop, and one of
them declared that it made her fur stand on end to think of it. The
Oldest Mouse spoke quite sharply. "Supposing," said he to the first
young Mouse, "you should eat more and talk less. There are enough
pleasant things to speak about without scaring all your friends in this
way."
The young Mouse who said that her fur stood on end couldn't eat anything
more, she was so frightened. "What could we do," she said, "if the Cat
should come?"
"Stay right where we are," answered her mother. "She couldn't reach us
with the door closed. Now go on with your eating and don't be foolish."
A Rat ran up the board. "Good-morning," said he. "Have you heard the
news?"
"No, no!" cried the Mice, hurrying to that side of the corn-crib, and
peeping through the crack.
"The Yellow Kitten has been hunting with her mother, and they say that
her brother is going to-night."
"Well," said a mother Mouse, "I knew we would have to expect it, but I
did hope they would wait a while. Now, children," she added, "do be
careful! I know that when you are looking for food you have to go into
dangerous places, but don't stop there to talk or to clean your fur.
Find safe corners for that, or I shall worry about you all the time."
"We will," squeaked all the little Mice together. "We will be very, very
careful."
"Thank you for the news," said the Oldest Mouse to the Rat. "We will try
to send you word of new dangers when we hear of them."
The Rat, who was a fine young fellow, ran down the board and away. They
could not ask him in to lunch, because he was too large and stout to
squeeze through the cracks, but he understood how it was, and knew that
he could find food elsewhere. Now he ran to the Pig-pen to snatch a
share of the breakfast which the farmer had just left there. He often
did this as soon as the farmer went away, and the Pigs never troubled
him. Perhaps that was because they knew that if they drove him away when
he came alone, he would bring all his sisters and his cousins and his
aunts, and his brothers and his uncles too, the next time, and would
eat every bit of food they had.
After he had taken a hearty breakfast, he ran under the edge of the barn
to clean himself. He was always very particular about this. His mother
had taught him when very small that he must keep his fur well brushed
and his face washed, and he did it just as a Cat would, by wetting his
paws and scrubbing his face and the top of his head. He brushed his fur
coat with his paws also.
While he was here, one of his cousins came from the barn above. She ran
down the inside of the wall, head foremost, and her hind feet were
turned around until they pointed backward. That let her hold on with her
long, sharp claws, quite as a Squirrel does, and kept her from tumbling.
She was much out of breath when she reached the ground, but it was not
from running.
"What do you think that farmer has done now?" she cried. "It was bad
enough for him to nail tin over the holes we gnawed into his grain-bins,
but this is worse still. It needn't make us so much trouble, but it
hurts my feelings."
"What is it?" asked her cousin.