A LITTLE GARDEN
CALENDAR
_For Boys and Girls_
by
ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE
_Author of "The Little Lady, Her Book,"
"The Arkansaw Bear," Etc._
WITH FORTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS
PHILADELPHIA
HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY
_Copyright, 1905, by Henry Altemus
Published March, 1905_
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
The Little Lady, Her Book, $1.00
The Arkansaw Bear, 1.00
The Wanderings of Joe and Little Em, .50
A WORD TO TEACHERS AND PARENTS
WHEN Dr. S. P. Langley, Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution,
established the Children's Room in that great museum, he took for
his motto, "Knowledge begins in wonder," and he put into this room a
selection of specimens especially intended to excite interest in the
young mind. The biggest bird and the littlest were placed side by side;
curious eggs, nests, and insects--not many in number, but temptingly
displayed--were ranged about to attract attention and to awake the
desire to know more. It was the same Dr. Langley who had once declared
that his chief interests in life were children and fairy stories, and
it is in the little Washington room that we seem to find the thought
embodied, for the children are there, and the fairy stories of nature
are suggested on every hand.
It is with Dr. Langley's motto in mind that the "Little Garden
Calendar" is offered to parents and teachers, and to children
themselves who are old enough to read. The author has tried to tell in
simple language a few of the wonders of plant life, and to set down
certain easy methods of observation, including planting, tending, and
gathering the harvests, from month to month, throughout the year. Along
with this it has been his aim to call attention to the more curious
characteristics of certain plants--the really human instincts and
habits of some, the family relations of others, the dependence of many
upon mankind, animals, and insects, and the struggle for existence of
all. Simple botany plays a part in the little narrative, which forms a
continuous story from chapter to chapter, interwoven with a number of
briefer stories--traditions, fairy tales, and the like, all relating to
plant life and origin. These are presented by way of entertainment--to
illuminate fact with fancy--to follow, as it were, the path of
knowledge through the garden of imagination.
The illustrations in this book are from excellent
photographs--especially made for the various chapters--that the student
of plant life may compare and identify with some degree of assurance
as to varieties and particular specimens, especially in the matter of
plant organisms. The volume is divided according to the calendar, for
the reason that in the plant world there is interest for every month
in the year if only someone is by to point the way, and it is for this
purpose that the little story of Prue and Davy and their garden is
offered to instructors in the schoolroom and at home, and to the young
people themselves, with the greetings and good wishes of
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS
PAGE
JANUARY, 13
I You may begin your garden right away
II Your garden may not look as I have it here
III Many seeds are given wings
IV I think seeds know the months
FEBRUARY, 43
I Little plants won't stand much handling
II Hey for the merry little sweet pease
III Even clover belongs to the pulse family
IV Beans and morning-glories twine to the right
V The honeysuckle twines always to the left
MARCH, 73
I Still it was really a radish
II The sun swings like a great pendulum
III Long before there were any railroads and cities
IV Did you ever see the little man in the pansy?
APRIL, 103
I The yellow dust is a food for the seed
II The coming of the corn
III Cross by name and cross by nature
IV A peppery family
V For in that dish was Davy's corn
MAY, 131
I Sweet pease have to be put down pretty deep
II Different families of ants have different droves of
cows
III There are many ways of producing species
JUNE, 159
I Then they went down into the strawberry patch
II How the rose became queen
III The sun is the greatest of all
JULY, 187
I A plant is divided into three principal parts
II There are exogens and endogens
III I don't see what weeds are for, anyway
AUGUST, 211
I There are just two kinds of leaves
II Sometimes I think plants can see and hear
III There are plants which do not bloom
IV The princess by the sea
SEPTEMBER, 241
I A flower really has clothes
II A flower has many servants
III A flower may really reason
IV Some flowers live off other flowers and plants
V The prince and the thread of gold
OCTOBER, 267
I Seeds are made to be planted
II There are bitter nuts and sweet ones
III There are many things called fruits
NOVEMBER, 291
I There are annuals, biennials, and perennials
II Plants know how to spread
III All thanks for the plants
DECEMBER, 313
I New gardens in the windows
II To the garden of sleep
III In the gardens of Christmas
IV Some verses, and then good-by
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
_Frontispiece_
Davy's window--Prue's window 19
The beans at the end of two weeks 23
The morning-glories two weeks old 27
The pot of radishes 35
The pease two weeks old 37
The corn at the end of two weeks 47
The pease run up straight ladders 53
A member of the pulse family 59
The morning-glory twines to the right 65
The nasturtiums began to hide the little pot 75
The very small lettuce leaves 81
Davy's pot of radishes 93
"Davy's corn sent out a plume at the top" 97
"The morning-glories had bloomed and already had seed
pods" 113
"Cabbage" was the fat fellow's name 115
"They called it nasturtium" 121
Alyssum--the sweetest of the "Cross" family 123
"Don't you think the blackberry looks a little like a wild
rose?" 135
"And the apple blossom, too?" 139
Budding 149
The Chief Gardener's strawberries 161
Big, big berries that looked so good 165
The rose stamens and pistil which produce the seed 175
"Gardeners often take a rose of one kind and shake it
gently over a rose of another kind" 178
"Sometimes the gardener takes up the pollen on a soft
brush and lays it gently on the stigma of another
rose" 179
The pistil and stamens of the lily 192
A pistil and calyx and a complete flower 193
A group of endogens--the lily, hyacinth, and daffodil 195
Some simple leaves 217
Pine-needles are leaves 218
There is a lot of kinds and shapes 221
"Beware of the vine with the three-part leaf" 253
The dandelion is bound to spread its seed 256
"So it blooms below the lawn-mower's cutting-wheel" 257
"They cling to everything that passes" 269
Three members of the acorn family 277
The apple is a calyx. The pistil is the core inside of it 283
A raspberry is a cluster of pistils without the core 285
The seed and sets of the onion 295
A black raspberry vine preparing to spread 299
"What are stuck-ins?--oh, slips!" 301
The wool that grows on the sheep's back is there because
the sheep feeds on the green grass in summer 307
A Japanese fern-ball 316
The kind of a tree that nobody but Santa Claus ever raises 323
JANUARY
A LITTLE GARDEN CALENDAR
JANUARY
I
YOU MAY BEGIN YOUR GARDEN RIGHT AWAY
THIS is the story of a year, and begins on New Year's day. It is the
story of a garden--a little garden--and of a little boy and girl who
owned the garden, and of the Chief Gardener, who helped them.
And the name of the little boy was David, after his grandfather. So
they called him Davy, because when grandfather was a little boy, he
had been called Davy, and this little boy wanted to be just as his
grandfather had been--just the same kind of a little boy, with the same
name and all.
And the name of the little girl was Prudence, and she was called Prue.
For when her mother was a little girl, _she_ had been called Prue, and
the Chief Gardener still called her that, sometimes, when he did not
call her just Mamma. And the little girl was five years old, and the
little boy was 'most seven--"going-on seven" the little boy always
said, when you asked him.
The garden was in a window, at first--in two windows, side by
side--called a double window. It had to be in a window, because outside
it was very cold, and the snow was white and deep on the beds where the
Chief Gardener had flowers and vegetables in summer-time.
Prue and Davy were looking out on this white, snow-covered garden on
New Year's afternoon. Christmas was over, and spring seemed far away.
And there had been _so_ much snow that they were tired of their sleds.
"I wish it would be warm again," said Davy, "so there would be
strawberries and nice things to eat in the garden; don't you, Prue?"
"And nice green grass, and dandelions and pinks and morning-glories,"
said Prue, who loved flowers.
Then the little girl went over to where the Chief Gardener was reading.
She leaned over his knee and rocked it back and forth.
"Will it _ever_ be warm again?" she asked. "Will we _ever_ have another
garden?"
The Chief Gardener turned another page of his paper. Prue rocked his
knee harder.
"I want it to be warm," she said. "I want it to be so we can plant
flowers."
"And things," put in Davy, "_nice_ things, to eat; pease and berries
and radishes."
"Oh, Davy, you always want things to eat!" said the little girl. "We've
just had our New Year's dinner!"
"But I'd be hungry again before the things grew, wouldn't I? And you
like strawberries, too, and short-cake."
The Chief Gardener laid down his paper.
"What's all this about strawberry short-cake and morning-glories?" he
asked.
"We want it to be warm," said Prue, "so we can have a garden, with
pinks and pansies--"
"And pease--" began Davy.
"And a short-cake tree," put in the Chief Gardener, "with nice
short-cakes covered with whipped cream, hanging on all the branches.
That would suit you, wouldn't it, Davy boy?"
The very thought of a tree like that made Davy silent with joy; but
Prue still rocked the knee and talked.
"When _will_ it be warm? When _can_ we have a garden?" she kept asking.
"It is warm, _now_, in this room," said the Chief Gardener, "and you
may begin your garden right away, if you like."
The children looked at him, not knowing just what he meant.
"In the window," he went on. "There are two, side by side. They are
a part of the garden, you know, for we always see the garden through
them, in summer. You remember, we said last year they were like frames
for it. Now, suppose we really put a little piece of garden in the
windows."
Prue was already dancing.
"Oh, yes! And I'll have pansies, and roses, and hollyhocks, and pinks,
and morning-glories, and--"
"And I'll have peaches, and apples, and strawberries, and pease--"
"And a field of corn and wheat," laughed the Chief Gardener, "and
a grove of cocoanut trees! What magic windows we must have to hold
all the things you have named. They will be like the pack of Santa
Claus--never too full to hold more."
"But can't we have all the things we like?" asked Davy, anxiously.
"Not _quite_ all, I'm afraid. The hollyhocks and roses that Prue
wants do not bloom the first year from seed. It would hardly pay to
plant them in a window-garden, and as for peach and apple trees, I am
afraid you would get very tired waiting for them to bear. It takes at
least five years for apple-trees to give us fruit, often much longer.
Peach-trees bear about the third year. I think we would better try a
few things that bloom and bear a little more quickly."
II
YOUR GARDEN MAY NOT LOOK AS I HAVE IT HERE
THE Chief Gardener took his pencil and a piece of paper, and drew
a little plan. He was not much of an artist, and sometimes when he
drew things he had to write their names below, so that Prue and Davy
could tell which was the rabbit and which was the donkey, and so they
wouldn't think the kitten was a lion. But a window was not so hard, and
then he could put names under the plants, too. On the next page is the
picture that the Chief Gardener drew.
While he was making the picture, the children had been asking questions.
"Which is my side? Oh, what's that in the center--that tall plant? What
are those vines? What will we have in those littlest pots? Oh, I know
what those are! Those are morning-glories! Oh, goody!"
[Illustration: DAVY'S WINDOW PRUE'S WINDOW]
The last was from Prue, when she saw the artist putting the flowers
along the vines that he had made climbing up the sides of her window.
"Yes," said the Chief Gardener, "those are morning-glories. You can
have two vines in each pot, if you wish, and in that way get four
colors--blue, white, purple, and pink. On Davy's side I have made
climbing beans--scarlet and white runners--because they are very
pretty, and also very good to eat. Davy's is a vegetable, and yours a
flower, garden. Then, if Davy wants some flowers, and you get hungry,
you can give him flowers for vegetables."
"Oh, that will be playing 'market,' won't it? I just love to play
'store' and 'going to market.'"
"My beans look a good deal like Prue's morning-glories, all but the
flowers," said Davy.
"So they do, Davy; and they really look something the same in
the garden. The leaves are nearly the same shape, only that the
morning-glory's is more heart-shaped, and then beans have three leaves
to the stem instead of one. Sometimes I have taken a morning-glory for
a bean, just at first."
"What else have we?" asked Prue. "What are the little flowers, and the
big one in the center?"
If the Chief Gardener felt hurt because his pictures did not show just
what all the flowers were, without telling, he did not say so. He said:
"Well, in the center of your window, Prue, the big flower is made for a
sunflower. Not the big kind, but the small western sunflower, such as
we had along the back fence last summer. I think we can raise those in
the house."
"I just love those," nodded Prue.
"Then those two slender plants are sweet-pease on your side, and
garden-pease on Davy's. I put two in each window, because I know that
you love sweet-pease, while Davy is very fond of the vegetable kind."
"I'd like a whole bushel of sweet-pease!" said Prue.
"And I wish I had a bushel of eating pease!" said Davy, "and I know
that's sweet corn in the middle of my window. I just love it!"
"Yes," said the Chief Gardener, "and a little pot of radishes on one
side, and a pot of lettuce salad on the other. Do you think you like
that, Davy?"
"Can't I have strawberries, instead of the salad?" asked Davy.
"Strawberries don't bear from seed the first season, and I can't
remember any fruit that does, unless you call tomatoes fruit, and I
don't think a tomato vine would be quite pleasant in the house. It
doesn't always have a sweet odor."
"Oh, well, I can eat lettuce," said Davy. "I can eat anything that's
good."
"What are in my other little pots?" asked Prue for the third or fourth
time.
"Well, one is meant for a pot of pansies--"
"Oh, pansies! pansies! Can't I have two pots of pansies?"
"You can have three or four plants in one pot--perhaps that will do.
Then you can put nasturtiums in the other little pot. They are easy to
grow, and very beautiful."
"Yes," said Prue, "I never saw anything so _lovely_ as your nasturtiums
by the house, last year."
The Chief Gardener looked at the sketch and tapped it with his pencil.
[Illustration: THE BEANS AT THE END OF TWO WEEKS]
"Of course," he said, "your garden may not look just as I have it here.
I don't draw very well, but I can make things about the right sizes
to fit the windows, and that isn't so hard to do with a pencil as it
is with the plants themselves. Plants, like children, don't always
grow just as their friends want them to, and they are not always well
behaved. You see--"
"But won't my bean vines and corn grow up like that?" asked Davy.
"And won't my morning-glories have flowers on them?" asked Prue.
"I hope they will, and we will try to coax them. But you see things may
happen. Sometimes it comes a very cold night when the fires get low,
and then plants are likely to chill, or perhaps freeze and die. We can
only try to be very careful."
"How long will it take them to grow?" asked Davy.
"That is not easy to say. When everything is just right, some seeds
start very soon. I have known radishes to pop up within three days,
when the weather was warm and damp. Corn will sprout in about a week,
in warm weather. Sweet-pease take a good deal longer, though we can
hurry them a little by soaking them in warm water before we plant them.
But we will talk about all that later. First, let's see about the pots
and earth, and the seeds."
III
MANY SEEDS ARE GIVEN WINGS
THE Chief Gardener took Davy and Prue down in the basement, where in
one corner he kept his flower-pots and garden-tools.
"I'm going to use the hoe," said Davy, reaching for the long handle.
"I'll have the rake for my garden," said Prue.
The Chief Gardener smiled.
"I don't think we'll need either for this gardening. A small weeder or
an old kitchen-knife will be about the largest tool you can use."
Then he picked out some pots, set them side by side on a table, and
measured them to see how long a row they made. Then he changed them and
measured again.
"There," he said, "those will just fit one window. Now, another set for
the other window and we are ready for the soil."
"Where will you get dirt? Everything is frozen hard," said Davy.
The Chief Gardener took up a spading-fork from among the tools.
"We'll get our hats and coats, first," he said, "then we'll see what we
can find."
Outside it was really very cold, but the children, with their thick
wraps, did not mind. They raced in the snow across the empty little
garden, and followed the Chief Gardener to a small mound in one corner.
Here he pushed away the snow, and with the fork lifted up a layer of
frozen-looking weeds; then another layer, not quite so frozen and not
quite so weedy; then still another layer that did not seem at all
frozen, but was just a mass of damp leaves and bits of grass. And under
this layer it must have been quite warm, for steam began to rise white
in the cold air.
"Oh, see!" said Prue. "What makes the smoke?"
"That's steam," said Davy, wisely; "but what makes it warm?"
[Illustration: THE MORNING-GLORIES TWO WEEKS OLD]
"Fever," said the Chief Gardener, "just as you had, Davy, that night
you ate too much layer-cake. You said you were burning up, but it was
only nature trying to burn up the extra food. That is what nature is
doing here--trying to burn up and turn to earth the pile of weeds and
grass I threw here last summer for compost. Next spring the fire will
be out, and leave only a heap of rich soil for the garden."
Beneath the last layer there was warm, dark earth. The Chief Gardener
filled the basket he had brought, and they hurried back to the basement
to fill the pots.
"Not too full--we must leave room at the top for digging and watering,
without spilling dirt and water on the floor. Then the plants will help
fill up by and by, too, and I think we would better put in a little of
this compost at the bottom. When the roots run down they will be glad
to find some fresh, rich food. Don't pack the earth too tightly, Davy;
just jar the pot a little to settle it, and it should be fine and quite
dry. Perhaps we'd better dry it a little," the Chief Gardener added, as
he saw by the children's hands that some of the earth was rather damp
and sticky.
So he brought out a flat box, emptied all the pots into it, and set the
box on top of the furnace.
"While it's drying, we'll go upstairs and pick out the seeds," he said.
"Oh, see my beans! How pretty they are!" cried Davy, as the Chief
Gardener pointed out the purple-mottled seeds of the scarlet runners.
Prue looked a little envious. She was fond of pretty things.
"But my pease are better-looking than those crinkly things of yours,"
she said; "mine are most like little beads; and see my nasturtium seed!
They look good to eat, like little peanuts."
It was Davy's turn now to be envious. Anything that looked like peanuts
must be very good to eat.
"People often pickle nasturtium pods," said the Chief Gardener. "They
are fine and peppery. So Prue will really have something to eat in her
garden, while Davy will have beautiful flowers on his scarlet runners."
"See my morning-glory seed, like quarters of a little black apple, and
how tiny my pansy seeds are!" cried Prue, holding out the papers.
Davy was looking at the little round, brown kernels that the Chief
Gardener had said were radish seeds, and the light little flakes that
were to grow into lettuce.
"What makes seeds so different?" he asked soberly.
"Ah, Davy, that is a hard question," answered the Chief Gardener. "A
great many very great people have tried to answer it."
He opened a little paper and held it out for them to see.
"What funny little feather-tops!" said Prue.
"Like little darts," said Davy. "What are they?"
"Marigold seeds. They are very light, and the little tufts or wings
are to carry them through the air, so they will be scattered and sown
by the wind. Many seeds are given wings of different kinds. Maple
seeds have a real pair of wings. Others have a tuft of down on them,
so light that they are carried for miles. But many seeds are hard to
explain. Plants very nearly alike grow from seeds that are not at all
alike, while plants as different as can be grow from seeds that can
hardly be told apart, even under the magnifying-glass."
The pots filled with the warm earth were brought up and ranged in the
windows.
"How deep, and how many seeds in a pot?" asked Davy.
"That depends," the Chief Gardener answered. "I believe there is a
rule that says to plant twice as deep as the seed is long, though
sweet-pease and some other things are planted deeper; and you may
plant more seeds than you want plants, so that enough are pretty sure
to grow; four beans in each pot, Davy--two white and two colored, and
three grains of corn in the large center pot."
The children planted the seeds--the Chief Gardener helping, showing
how to cover them with fine earth--the corn and beans quite deeply,
the sweet-pease still deeper, fully an inch or more, the smaller seeds
thinly and evenly: then how to pat them down so that the earth might be
lightly but snugly packed about the sleeping seeds.
"Now we will dampen them a little," he said, "and when they feel their
covering getting moist, perhaps they will think of waking."
So he brought a cup of warm water, and the children dipped in their
fingers and sprinkled the earth in each pot until it was quite damp.
Then they drew up chairs and sat down to look at their garden, as if
expecting the things to grow while they waited.
IV
I THINK SEEDS KNOW THE MONTHS
BUT the seeds did not sprout that day, nor the next, nor for many days
after they were planted.
Prue and Davy watered them a little every morning, and were quite sure
the room had been warm, but it takes sunshine, too, to make seeds
think of waking from their long nap, and the sun does not always shine
in January. Even when it does, it is so low in the sky, and stays such
a little time each day, that it does not find its way down into the
soil as it does in spring and summer time.
"You said that corn sprouts in a week," said Davy to the Chief
Gardener, one morning, "and it's a week to-day since we planted it, and
even the radishes are not up yet."
Prue also looked into her little row of pots, and said sadly that there
was not even a little teeny-weeny speck of anything coming up that she
could see.
"I'm sorry," said the Chief Gardener, "but you know I really can't make
the sun shine, and even if I could, perhaps they would be slow about
coming, at this season. Sometimes I think seeds know the months as well
as we do, for I have known seeds to sprout in June in a place where
there was very little warmth or moisture and no sunshine at all. Yes,
I think the seeds know."
"And won't my pansies come at all?" whimpered little Prue.
"Oh, I think so. They only need a little more coaxing. Suppose we see
just what is going on. You planted a few extra radish seeds, Davy. We
will do as little folks often do--dig up one and see what has happened."
So the Chief Gardener dug down with his pocket-knife and lifted a bit
of the dirt, which he looked at carefully. Then he held it to the light
and let the children look. Sticking to the earth there was a seed, but
it was no longer the tiny brown thing which Davy had planted. It was so
large that Davy at first thought it was one of his pease, and on one
side of it there was an edge of green.
"It's all right, Davy boy. They'll be up in a day or two," laughed the
Chief Gardener. "Now, we'll try a pansy."
"Oh, yes, try a pansy! try a pansy!" danced little Prue, who was as
happy as Davy over the sprouting of the radish.
[Illustration: THE POT OF RADISHES]
So the Chief Gardener dug down into the pansy-pot, but just at first
could not find a pansy seed, they were so small. Then he did find one,
and coming out of it were two tiny pale-green leaves, and a thread of
white rootlet that had started downward.
Prue clapped her hands and wanted the Chief Gardener to dig in all the
pots, but he told them that it would not be good gardening to do that,
and that they must be patient now, and wait. So then another anxious
week went by. And all at once, one morning very early, Prue and Davy
came shouting up the stairs to where the Chief Gardener was shaving.
"They're up! They're up!"
"My pansies!"
"And my radishes! They've lifted up a piece of dirt over every seed,
and there's one little green point in the corn-pot, too!"
The Chief Gardener had to leave his shaving to see. Sure enough! Davy's
radishes and Prue's pansies were beginning to show, and one tender
shoot of Davy's corn. And in less than another week Davy's lettuce and
pease and beans were breaking the ground above each seed, while Prue's
garden was coming too, all but the sweet-pease, which, because of their
hard shell, sprouted more slowly, even though they had been soaked in
warm water before planting. But in another week they began to show,
too, and everything else was quite above ground.
[Illustration: THE PEASE TWO WEEKS OLD]
Then the Chief Gardener dug up one each of the extra seeds, root and
all, and showed them just how they had sprouted and started to grow. He
showed them how the shell or husk of the seed still clung to the two
first leaves of some of the morning-glory and radish plants, how when
the little plant had awakened from its long nap, it had stretched,
just as a little boy would stretch, getting up out of bed, and how,
being hungry, it had made its breakfast on a part of the tender kernel
packed about it in the seed, and then pushed its leaves up for light
and air. He also showed them how the grain of corn and the pea stayed
below the ground to feed the little shoots that pushed up and the
sprangled roots that were starting down to hunt for richness. But they
all laughed at the beans, for the beans left only the husk below and
pushed the rich kernel up into the air--coming up topsy-turvy, Davy
said, while Prue thought the leaves must be very greedy to take the
kernel all away from the roots, instead of leaving it where both could
have a share.
And now another week passed, and other tiny leaves began to show on
most of the plants. These were different shaped from the first oval or
heart-shaped seed-leaves--real, natural leaves, Prue said, such as they
would have when they were grown. Only the corn did not change, but
just unfolded and grew larger.
And so in every pot there were tender green promises of fruit and
flower. The little garden was really a garden at last.
FEBRUARY
FEBRUARY
I
LITTLE PLANTS WON'T STAND MUCH HANDLING
YET the little garden seemed to grow slowly. The sun in February was
getting farther to the north, and came earlier and stayed later than
it had in January, and was brighter, too. But for all that, to Davy
and Prue, each new leaf came quite slowly--just a tiny point or bud at
first, then a little green heart or oval or crinkly oblong with a wee
stem of its own. It was very hard to see each morning, just what had
grown since the morning before.
Of course they did grow--little by little, and inch by inch--just as
children grow, and a good deal faster, for when they measured their
bean and morning-glory vines, they found one morning that they had
grown at least a half an inch since the day before, and that would be a
good deal for a little boy or girl to grow in one day.
But Davy perhaps remembered the story of "Jack and the Beanstalk" and
how Jack's bean had grown to the sky in a very short time; and, of
course, remembering a story like that is apt to make anybody impatient
with a bean that grows only half an inch a day.
"I think it would be a good plan," he said one morning, "to tie a
rubber band to the top of each of my bean vines, and then fasten the
other end higher up the window to help pull the vines along."
And little Prue said:
"I pulled my morning-glories along yesterday a little, with my fingers.
I know they grew a tiny speck then, but they don't look quite so nice
this morning."
The Chief Gardener came over to see what was going on.
"I don't think we'd better try any new plans," he said. "I'm afraid
if we pull our plants to make them grow, we will have to pull them up
altogether, pretty soon, and plant new ones. Tender little plants won't
stand much handling."
The Chief Gardener was not cross, but his voice was quite solemn.
Little Prue looked frightened and her lip quivered the least bit.
"Oh, will my morning-glories die now?" she asked; "and I pulled the
pansies just a tiny speck, too. Will they die?"
"Not this time, I think; but I wouldn't do it again. Just give them
a little water now and then, and dig in the pots a little, and turn
them around sometimes so that each side of the plant gets the light,
and nature will do the rest. Of course you can't turn the bean and
morning-glory pots after they get to climbing the strings, but they
will twine round and round and so turn themselves. Your garden looks
very well for the time of year. Perhaps if you did not watch it so
much it would grow faster. They say that a watched pot never boils, so
perhaps a watched plant does not grow well. I am sure they do not like
to be stretched up to a measuring-stick every morning at eight o'clock.
Suppose now we put up the strings for the morning-glories and beans to
climb on, and some nice branchy twigs for the pease, then water them
well and leave them for a few days and see what happens."
So then the Chief Gardener and the two little gardeners went down in
the basement, where they found some tiny screw-hooks and some string,
and where they cut some nice sprangly little limbs from the Christmas
tree that still stood in one corner, and was getting very dry. Then
they all came up again and put up strings for the scarlet runners and
morning-glories, by tying one end of each string to a stout little
stick which the Chief Gardener pushed carefully into the soil between
the plants, and then carried the string to the small screw-hooks, which
were put about half-way up, and at the top of the window-casings. The
branchy twigs were stuck carefully into the pots where the pease grew,
and stood up straight and fine--like little ladders, Prue said--for the
pease to climb.
[Illustration: THE CORN AT THE END OF TWO WEEKS]
"It's just like a circus," said Davy. "The beans and morning-glories
will be climbing ropes, and the pease will be running up straight
ladders."
"And while we are waiting for the performance to begin," added the
Chief Gardener, "suppose you let me tell you something about the
performers--where they came from, and some stories that are told of
them."
II
HEY FOR THE MERRY LITTLE SWEET-PEA
THE Chief Gardener went into the next room, which was the library, and
drew a cozy little settee up before the bright hickory fire. It was
just wide enough for three, and when he sat down, Davy and Little Prue
promptly hopped up, one on each side. In a low rocker near the window
Big Prue was doing something with silks and needles and a very bright
pair of scissors. The Chief Gardener stirred the fire and looked into
it. Then he said:
"Speaking of pease, I wonder if you ever heard this little song about
'THE TWO PEAS
'Oh, a little sweet-pea in the garden grew--
Hey, for the merry little sweet-pea!
And a garden-pea, it grew there, too--
Hi, for the happy little eat-pea!
In all kinds of weather
They grew there together--
Ho, for the pease in the garden!
Hey, for the sweet-pea! Hi, for the eat-pea!
Hey, he, hi, ho, hum!
'Oh, the sweet-pea bloomed and the eat-pea bore--
Hey, for the merry little sweet-pea!
And they both were sent to a poor man's door--
Hi, for the happy little eat-pea!
In all kinds of weather
They came there together!
Ho, for the pease from the garden!
Hey, for the sweet-pea! Hi, for the eat-pea!
Hey, he, hi, ho, hum!
'Now, the poor man's poor little girl lay ill--
What a chance for a merry little sweet-pea!
And there wasn't a cent in the poor man's till--
Good-by to the jolly little eat-pea!
In all kinds of weather
They brought joy together
When they came from the happy little garden!
Hey, for the sweet-pea! Hi, for the eat-pea!
Hey, he, hi, ho, hum!'"
"Was there really ever a poor man and a little sick girl who had pease
sent to them?" asked little Prue, as the Chief Gardener finished.
"Oh, I am sure there must have been! A great many of them."
"But the ones you sung about. Those really same ones--did they ever
really live, or did you make it up about them?"
"I don't think my pease would be quite enough for a poor man who didn't
have a cent of money," said Davy, after thinking about it.
"But my sweet-pease will be enough, only I want to know if there is
really such a little girl, so I can send them. Is there, Papa?"
"Well, I am sure we can find such a little girl, if we try. And I know
she'd be glad for some sweet-pease. And now here's a little story that
I really didn't make up, but read a long time ago.
"Once upon a time there were two friars--"
"What are friars?" asked Prue. "Do they fry things?"
"Well, not exactly, though one of these did do some stewing, and the
other, too, perhaps, though in a different way. A friar is a kind of
priest, and these two had done something which the abbot, who is the
head priest, did not like, so he punished them."
"What did they do?" asked Prue, who liked to know just what people
could be punished for.
"I don't remember now. It's so long--"
"What do you _s'pose_ it was?"
"Well, I really can't s'pose, but it may have been because they forgot
their prayers. Abbots don't like friars to forget their prayers--"
"If I should forget my prayers, I'd say 'em twice to make up."
"Oh, Prue!" said Davy, "_do_ let Papa go on with the story!"
"But I would. I'd say 'em sixty times!"
"Yes," said the Chief Gardener, "friars have to do that, too, I
believe; but these had to do something different. They had to wear
pease in their shoes."
"Had to wear pease! In their shoes!"
"Yes, pease, like those we planted, and they had to walk quite a long
ways, and, of course, it wouldn't be pleasant to walk with those little
hard things under your feet.
"Well, they started, and one of them went limping and stewing along,
and making an awful fuss, because his feet hurt him so, but when he
looked at the other he saw that instead of hobbling and groaning as
he was, he was walking along, as lively as could be, and seemed to be
enjoying the fine morning, and was actually whistling.
"'Oh, dear!' said the one who was limping, 'how is it you can walk
along so spry, and feel so happy, with those dreadful pease in your
shoes?'
"'Why,' said the other, 'before I started, I took the liberty to _boil
my_ pease!'"
"But, Papa," began little Prue, "I don't see--"
"I do," said Davy, "it made them soft, so they didn't hurt."
"What kind of pease were they?" asked Prue. "Like Davy's or mine?"
[Illustration: THE PEASE RUN UP STRAIGHT LADDERS]
"Well, I've never heard just what kind they were. There are a good many
kinds of pease, and they seem to have come from a good many places.
Besides the sweet-pease and garden-pease, there are field-pease, used
dry for cattle, and in England there is what is called a sea-pea,
because it was first found growing on the shore of a place called
Sussex, more than three hundred and fifty years ago, in a year of
famine. There were many, many of them and they were in a place where
even grass had not grown before that time. The people thought they
must have been cast up by some shipwrecked vessel, and they gathered
them for food, and so kept from going hungry and starving to death.
The garden-pea is almost the finest of vegetables, and there are
many kinds--some large, some small, some very sweet, some that grow
on tall vines and have to have stakes, and some that grow very short
without stakes, and are called dwarfs. There are a good many kinds
of sweet-pease, too, different sizes and colors, but I think all the
different kinds of garden-pease and sweet-pease might have come from
one kind of each, a very, very long time ago, and that takes me to
another story which I will have to put off until next time. I have
some books now to look over, and you and Davy, Prue, can go for a run
in the fresh air."
III
EVEN CLOVER BELONGS TO THE PULSE FAMILY
IT was on the same evening that Prue and Davy asked for the other
story. And of course the Chief Gardener had to tell it, for he had
promised, and little Prue, especially, didn't like to put off anything
that had been promised. So this is the story that the Chief Gardener
told:
"The Pulse family is a very large one. I don't know just where the
first old great-grandfather Pulse ever did come from, but it is thought
to be some place in Asia, a great country of the far East. It may be
that the first Pulse lived in the Garden of Eden, though whether as a
tree or a vine or a shrub, or only as a little plant, we can't tell
now."
"I think it's going to be a fairy story," said Prue, settling down to
listen. "Is it, Papa? A real, true fairy story?"
"Well, perhaps it is a sort of a fairy story, and I'll try to tell it
just as truly as I can. Anyway, the story goes, that a long time after
the Garden of Eden was ruined and the Pulse family started west, there
were two cousins, and these two cousins were vines, though whether they
were always vines, or only got to be vines so they could travel faster,
I do not know. Some of their relations were trees then, and are now;
the locust tree out in the corner of the yard is one of them."
Davy looked up, and was about to ask a question. The Chief Gardener
went on.
"The cousins I am talking about, being vines, traveled quite fast in
the summer-time, but when it came winter, they lay down for a long nap,
and only when spring came they roused up and traveled on. One of them
was a very fine fellow, with gay flowers that had a sweet smell, and
people loved him for his beauty and fragrance. The other brought only
greenish-white flowers, not very showy, but some thought him far more
useful than his pretty cousin, for he gave the people food as he passed
along.
"So they journeyed on, down by the way of the Black Sea, which you will
know about when you are a little older, and still farther west until
at last the pretty Pulse cousin and the plain but useful Pulse cousin
had spread their families all over Europe, and were called P's, perhaps
because the first letter of their family name began with P. Then by
and by it was spelled p-e-a, and they were called garden-pease and
sweet-pease, and were planted everywhere, one for the lovely flowers,
and the other for food. Now we have them side by side in your windows,
just as they were when they first started on their travels, so very,
very long ago."
"Did they really travel as you have told?" asked Davy, looking into the
fire.
"Well, I have never been able to find any printed history of their
travels, so it may have been something like that."
"They did, didn't they, Papa?" insisted little Prue, who always wanted
to believe every word of every fairy story. "They went hand in hand,
just as Davy and I do when we go walking, didn't they?"
"And Davy is the garden-pea and you the sweet-pea, is that it? Well,
they did come a long way--that is true--and they do belong to a very
large family. Why, even the clover belongs to the Pulse family, and
the peanut, and the locust, and the laburnum, and there is one distant
branch of the family that is so modest and sensitive that at the least
touch its members shrink and hide, and these are called sensitive
plants."
"Aren't beans of the Pulse family, too?" asked Davy.
"Why do you think so?" asked the Chief Gardener.
"Well, I remember that the flowers are something alike, and then they
both have pods."
[Illustration: A MEMBER OF THE PULSE FAMILY]
"And you are right, Davy. Both the flowers are what is called
butterfly-shaped, and pods of that kind are called legumes. Whenever
you see a flower of that shape, or a pod of that kind, no matter how
small or how large, or whether they grow on a plant or a tree or a
shrub, you will know you have found one of the Pulse family and a
relative of the pea. Your scarlet runners are about second cousins, I
should think, and I have something to tell about them, too, but it is
too late this evening."
IV
BEANS AND MORNING-GLORIES TWINE TO THE RIGHT
"MY morning-glories are climbing! My morning-glories are climbing up
the strings!"
"And so are my scarlet runners! Two of them have gone twice around
already, and one of them three times! But oh, Papa, something has
broken one of my stalks of corn, right off close to the ground!"
It was two days after the strings had been put up, and Prue and
Davy had tried very hard not to look at their garden during all
that time. Then they just had to look, and found that the beans and
morning-glories were really starting up the strings. But what could
have happened to Davy's corn!
The Chief Gardener hurried down to see. Then with an old knife he dug
down into the pot a little, and up came, what do you suppose? Why, a
white, fat ugly worm--a cut-worm, the Chief Gardener called him.
"They are a great enemy to young corn," he said, "especially in cool
weather. Sometimes almost whole fields have to be replanted. Blackbirds
will kill them, but many times the farmer thinks the blackbird is
pulling up his corn, and drives him away with a gun, when the blackbird
is only trying to help the farmer."
"Do you suppose there are any more?" asked Davy anxiously.
The Chief Gardener dug carefully around the other stalk, until the
white roots began to show.
"No, I think your other stalk is safe," he said, "at least from
cut-worms."
Grown-up Prue came to see the gardens. Yes, the vines were really
making a nice start, as well as the other things. One of Davy's pease
had sent out some tiny tendrils that were reaching toward the slender
twig-branches, but thoughtful Davy was looking first at his beans, then
at Prue's morning-glories.
"They all go around the strings just alike," he said at last; "all the
same way. Why don't some go the other way?"
"You ask such hard questions, Davy," the Chief Gardener answered. "I
have never known anybody to tell why all the beans and morning-glories
twine to the right, any more than why all the honeysuckles twine to the
left." The Chief Gardener turned to the little woman beside him. "There
must be some reason, of course; some law of harmony and attraction. I
suppose it would be quite simple to us if we knew. Why, where did Davy
go?"
Davy came in, just then, with his hat and coat on.
"I'm going to look at the honeysuckles," he said, "those out on the
porch."
The others put on wraps, too, and went with him. It was crisp and
bright out there, and dry leaves still clinging to the vines whispered
and gossiped together in the wintry breeze.
"They do!" said Davy, "they every one turn the other way--every single
one! How do you suppose they can tell which way to start--which is
right, and which is left?"
The Chief Gardener shook his head.
"Perhaps a story might explain it," he said. "Stories have to explain a
good many things until we find better ways."
So then they went inside to see if a story would really tell why the
morning-glory and scarlet runner always twined to the right, and why
the honeysuckle always twined to the left. And this was the Chief
Gardener's story:
V
THE HONEYSUCKLE TWINES ALWAYS TO THE LEFT
"AWAY back in the days that came after Eden, the time I told you of,
when the garden was given up to weeds and the plants went wandering
out through the world, a certain morning-glory and climbing-bean were
good friends, and were often found together--twining up the same
little tree or trellis, and very happy. Of course they were not called
morning-glory and bean then, and the honeysuckle that grew near was not
called honeysuckle either, though it had just the same sweet flowers,
and the humming-birds came to suckle honey from them, just as they do
now, in summer-time. I don't know what the old names were. It has been
so long since then, I suppose they are all forgotten.
"Now the honeysuckle was very proud of its sweet flowers, that scented
all the air around and drew the beautiful humming-birds, while the
morning-glory and bean had only very pale little flowers that the
humming-birds did not care for at all.
"And the honeysuckle used to laugh at them, and tell them how plain and
useless they were. How they lived only a little while in summer, and
withered when the frost came, while it only shed its leaves, and stood
strong and sturdy against the wind and cold of winter, ready to grow
larger and more useful each spring. And this, of course, made the two
friends feel very sorry, and wish they could be beautiful and useful,
too.
[Illustration: THE MORNING-GLORY TWINES TO THE RIGHT]
"Now, one day in early spring, the sun, who makes the plants grow and
gives the colors to the flowers, heard the honeysuckle, which was
putting out green leaves on its strong vines, laughing at the bean and
morning-glory, that were just peeping from the earth.
"And the sun said, 'This is too bad. It is not fair for one who has so
much to make fun of those who have so little. I must give them more.'
"So, lo and behold, when the morning-glory vine began to bloom, instead
of having pale little flowers, they were a beautiful white and blue
and purple and rose color, and when the bean blossomed, it had a fine
scarlet flower, and both were more beautiful than the honeysuckle,
though the honeysuckle still had its sweet perfume, and its honey for
the humming-birds."
"But what about the twining?" asked Davy. "That is what you started to
tell."
"Why, yes, of course. I forgot that. Well, when the sun came to look
at them he said, first to the honeysuckle, 'Because you have been so
proud, you must follow me,' and to the bean and morning-glory, 'Because
you have been meek, you shall turn always to meet me,' and since that
day, the honeysuckle has turned always to the left, following the sun,
while the bean and the morning-glory have twined always to the right,
to meet it on every turn."
The Chief Gardener paused, seeing that Davy was making circles in the
air with his finger--first circles to the right, then more circles to
the left. Then the circles got slower and slower, showing that he was
thinking very hard.
"That's right," he said at last. "If they turned to the right, they
would meet the sun every time around, and if they turned to the left
they would be following it."
The Chief Gardener was glad he had told his story right.
"And then, by and by," he said, "I suppose people must have given them
their names--the honeysuckle's because of the humming-birds that came
to suckle the flowers, and the morning-glory's because it made each
morning bright with its beautiful flowers, while the bean they called
the scarlet runner, and when they found that its pods held good food,
they planted it both for its flowers and its usefulness, and valued it
very highly, indeed. Just where all this happened I do not know. The
honeysuckle and morning-glory now grow wild, both in Europe and the
United States, and the scarlet runner is said to have been found wild
in these countries, too, though I have never seen it except in gardens."
"Papa," asked little Prue, "haven't my morning-glories any useful
relations, like my sweet-pease?"
"Why, yes, of course, let me see. The sweet potato belongs to that
family. It is really about a first cousin, and useful drugs are made
from the juice and root of a wild morning-glory. There are hardly any
families that do not have both useful and ornamental members, and most
of them, I am sorry to say, have troublesome ones, too, which we call
weeds. But I must run away now, and all that will have to wait until
another time."
MARCH
MARCH
I
STILL, IT WAS REALLY A RADISH