runners to climb on the sides of his window, Davy had decided to have
melon vines. His cantaloupes had not done very well in the garden,
for the reason that the pumpkin had sent its long tendrils across the
cantaloupe bed, and the pollen had been carried from the flowers of one
to the other by the busy bees, and this caused all his cantaloupes to
have a flavor of pumpkin. Davy had eaten them, though, and even little
Prue had said they were not so _very_ bad, and had really eaten nearly
all of one piece. Now, Davy was going to have two cantaloupe vines,
and let them climb on each side of his window, and see if he couldn't
raise some melons that folks would be glad to get a piece of.
In the middle of his window he was going to have an eggplant, which he
very much wanted to try, and in the little pots at the sides, there
were to be a peanut, which he wanted to try, too, and a special little
red pepper which had looked very nice in the seed-catalogue. Then
there were two little pots, one holding a small turnip and the other a
radish, which Davy wanted to see bloom and go to seed.
So, you see, Davy's garden was going to be quite different this year,
and Prue's was different, too. For Prue did not have morning-glories to
climb, this winter. Not because she did not like them, but because she
wanted her window, like Davy's, to be different from the window of the
winter before. She had a cypress vine planted this year, on one side,
and a moon vine on the other. And in the center of her window, she was
to have a cosmos flower, with a fuchsia and a hyacinth and a tulip at
the sides, and one of her precious pinks brought in from the summer
garden. Of course, the tulip and the hyacinth were to grow from little
bulbs, while the fuchsia was a small plant which she had bought at the
greenhouse. And in this way both the windows were to be very different
from the winter before, and many new things were to be learned in
seeing the seeds and the bulbs and the roots sprout and grow and bloom.
[Illustration: A JAPANESE FERN-BALL]
And there was one thing more which was to be different, for Prue and
Davy had put their money together and bought a Japanese fern-ball to
hang between the windows, and a hook to hang it on. The ball they
soaked in warm water, as the directions had said, and then hung it
on the hook. As often as it seemed dry they soaked it again, and one
day it was sending out little green points, and soon, even before the
rest of their window-garden was fairly started, there were feathery
little fern leaves all over the ball, and before Christmas it was very
beautiful indeed.
II
TO THE GARDEN OF SLEEP
_December_ was not a very bright month for Davy and Prue. Very little
snow fell, so they could not use their sleds. If it had not been for
their gardens and their lessons, which took several hours each day,
they would have been rather lonely, looking out on brown woods and
meadows.
But there was the joy of Christmas coming, and this thought made them
happier, as each day brought it nearer. They counted the weeks first,
then the days, and at last the hours. And then they had secrets.
Secrets from big Prue and the Chief Gardener, and secrets from each
other. Sometimes little Prue whispered to big Prue, and did not want
Davy to hear. Sometimes Davy whispered to the Chief Gardener, and
stopped very quick and began to whistle, if Prue came into the room.
Packages began to be brought in after dark, or when everybody else was
upstairs, and then, one afternoon--the afternoon of that wonderful eve
when stillness and mystery seem to gather on the fields--there was
a row of stockings along the mantel, hanging ready for somebody to
fill. Santa Claus, of course, must do that, but there were packages
hidden here and there for the good old Saint to find and put where they
belonged. And Prue and Davy were in bed almost before dark, because you
see the time passes quicker if you are asleep, and the sooner to bed
the sooner to sleep. But when big Prue came in to kiss them good-night
she told them a story--the old sweet story of the Little Child who
was born so long ago, and to whom the first gifts were brought by the
wise men. And then she told how that little baby boy in the manger had
become a sweet child, with games and playmates like other children,
with toys and, perhaps, a little garden of his own, something as they
had made during the summer-time. And she told also a little story
which, perhaps, is only a story, but it is what it would seem might
have happened to the Little Child of Bethlehem.
"Once," she said, "when he was playing he grew very tired and thirsty,
and his playmate was very thirsty, too. So Jesus ran to the well for
a cup of water, and hurried back with it without stopping to drink.
But his playmate was greedy, for he seized the cup and drank it all,
except a few drops at the bottom. Then he gave the empty cup to Jesus,
who took it and let the last few drops fall on the grass, when suddenly
from where they fell there flowed a little clear stream of water, with
lilies-of-the-valley blooming along its banks."
"Please sing the verse about the story of old," said Davy, when she had
finished.
So his mother sang:
"I think, when I read that sweet story of old,
How Jesus was here among men,
How he called little children as lambs to his fold,
I should like to have been with them then."
And it was only a moment longer that the Christmas Saint had to wait on
the sand-man, for presently the door closed softly on the singer. Davy
and Prue had entered the fair garden of sleep.
III
IN THE GARDENS OF CHRISTMAS
_I cannot_ tell you all the wonders of that Christmas. I can only
tell you that the presents which the little family had bought for one
another were all in their proper places next morning, and that there
were ever so many things that nobody but Santa Claus could possibly
have brought. There was a Christmas tree, for one thing, the kind of a
tree that nobody but Santa Claus ever raises, or brings, and there was
everything upon it and about it that a little boy and girl could want,
unless they wanted a great deal more than a little boy and girl ought
to have, at one time.
But the very finest Christmas gift of all was a splendid great big
snow-storm, which had begun in the night and was still going on, as
fast and as thick as the big, soft, fleecy flakes could fall. Every few
minutes the children left the beautiful tree to look at the beautiful
snow. They could hardly wait until breakfast was over, and the Chief
Gardener had made a photograph of the tree with them in it, before they
wanted to rush out with their sleds.
All at once Davy called Prue to the window.
"Look," he said, "some of these flakes on the window-sash are like
little white flowers!"
Then every one came to see, and, sure enough, some of the snowflakes
that had fallen next to the glass were wonderfully shaped, and did look
like tiny blossoms. The Chief Gardener got a magnifying-glass and they
looked at them through it, when they saw how really beautiful they were.
"I have heard them called 'the flowers of winter,'" said big Prue.
"There is a little story about how the flowers complained that they
must all die when cold weather came, and never see the winter. So then
their spirits were allowed to come back as snowflakes."
[Illustration: THE KIND OF A TREE THAT NOBODY BUT SANTA CLAUS EVER
RAISES]
That was a glorious Christmas. All day the snow came down outside,
and all day the big fire blazed and the Christmas tree gleamed and
shimmered and sparkled inside. And then, in the afternoon, there was
a Christmas dinner which was quite as good as any of the rest of the
things, even to the snow. And after the dinner was over, and they sat
around the fire, the Chief Gardener said:
"We have had a happy year. I know it has been happy, for the time has
gone so fast. It seems not more than a few weeks ago that we were
keeping last Christmas, and almost no time at all since Prue and Davy
started their first little gardens in the window. Yet, a week from
to-day, and that will be a year ago, too. Now, I have a plan. It was
Prue who made me think of it. She said something not long ago that I
made into a little verse, about annuals, biennials, and perennials.
Then Prue made one, too, about herbs and shrubs and trees. Now I
propose that we each make some rhymes for New Year's day to celebrate
the starting of the window-garden, and also the little garden which
Prue and Davy had outside. The rhymes must tell something that has been
learned during the year, and they must be short, and easy to remember.
Of course, we won't expect very much, but Prue has done so well, that I
am sure the rest of us can do something, too."
"I never made any rhymes," said Davy.
"I'll help you," said Prue. "It's just as easy."
So they all agreed, and during the holidays, when the children were not
busy with their sleds or books or gardens, they were making rhymes.
IV
SOME VERSES AND THEN GOOD-BY
AND these are the rhymes that were read and recited after dinner on
New Year's day, just a year after the first little window-garden was
started. I shall not tell you whose they were.
Of course, you will all remember little Prue's:
"The kinds of plants are these,
Herbs and shrubs, and trees,"
and the Chief Gardener's:
"The annuals we plant each spring--
They perish in the fall;
Biennials die the second year,
Perennials not at all,"
but the writers of the others you will have to guess.
THE PLANT
The parts of every plant are three--
The root, and stem, and leaf they be.
The flowers are only leaves more fair,
Which nature makes, to bloom and bear.
THE ROOT
Most roots are hidden in the ground,
As they should _always_ be, by rights,
But some in other plants are found,
And these belong to parasites.
THE STEM
The stem may be a stalk or vine
To stand erect, or creep, or twine--
For frailest plant, or firmest oak
That's ne'er by storm of winter broke.
THE LEAF
A leaf has a stem, and of stipules a pair,
Though the stipules are often quite small, or not there.
A leaf has a blade, and of ribs one or more;
While of veins and of veinlets it has many score.
A leaf may be simple, or it may be compound,
And a million small pores for its breathing are found.
THE FLOWER
The blossom has a calyx
That is very often green,
And just above the sepals
The corolla bright is seen.
And above the pretty petals
May be stamens eight or nine--
Slender filaments, and anthers,
To hold the pollen fine.
While in the blossom's center
Doth the sturdy pistil grow,
With stigma and with style that lead
To seed-cups just below.
HOW PLANTS INCREASE
From seed and from runner, from stolon bent low--
From sucker and slip and from layer they grow--
From bulb and from bulblet--from tuber and root,
They give us the flower and the grain and the fruit.
All thanks to the plants for the clothes that we wear--
The food that we eat and the home that we share--
For the air that we breathe and the fuel we burn--
All thanks to the plants, 'tis our only return.
Davy rather objected to the last line of these verses. He said that
it was some return to take good care of plants, especially in the hot
summer-time, when it was ever so much nicer to sit in the shade. So
another little rhyme was made, like this:
A plant should have the sun and air
And water, and the proper care.
If it has these, and doesn't die,
We'll reap the harvest, by and by.
Then to end the day they all sang a little song about the snowflakes,
that Jack Frost sends out of his gardens of winter-time:
THE SNOWFLAKES
Jack Frost, he makes the snowflakes,
He paints the snowflakes white.
He sent them Christmas morning
To make our landscape bright.
For in the deepest winter
The world is bleak and bare--
Jack Frost, he sends the snowflakes
To make our winter fair.
And so ends the story of a year, and of its little gardens. Also of
Prue and Davy, who owned the little gardens, and of her who was called
big Prue and of him who was called the Chief Gardener. Other years will
bring other gardens, and other summers. Prue and Davy will grow older,
and learn more and more with each year that passes. But no year will
ever be happier and no gardens ever brighter than those to which we are
now saying good-by.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes
Minor punctuation errors corrected on pages 16, 68, 104, 105, 214, 219,
276, 285, 294, 297, 328.
Slight discrepancies in some of the titles given in the Table of
Contents and those given at the beginning of each section have been
retained here.
Original spellings and hyphenation have been retained except in the
cases of these apparent typographical errors:
Page 23, "lovelly" changed to "lovely." (I never saw anything so
lovely...)
Page 60, "no" changed to "not." (...not to look at their garden...)