But I will tell you first of all why I have done dreadful things—such as
to lose and gain time in a reckless way.
“I was made to look expensive. I cost a lot of money—that is, I cost a
good deal of money. The creature who made me, and the one who had me made
were more anxious to make me look well than to have me act well.
“They didn’t care what happened to me once I was sold and they sold me
for less than they usually would sell a gold watch for because I was so
cheaply made inside.
“Of course in truth I was very expensive, for I wasn’t worth my price and
that makes an object most tremendously expensive.
“Well, you see, my works were very poor. I was nervous and not well and
strong and so I couldn’t go steadily. One day I’d feel very fine and I’d
go dashing ahead, trying to make up for lost time. That, of course, a
poor watch can never do. It has never been expected of a watch and so a
watch shouldn’t try to do it.
“Time goes right on no matter what we may do. But you see I would be so
silly. I would go ahead so fast that it was as bad as though I lost time.
“Many were the times when I felt so down-hearted that I just dragged the
hours away—and lost lots of time. The whole trouble was that I was trying
to pretend that I was something I wasn’t. And that never does. If a
creature is what it is and isn’t trying to be something else, then it is
all right.
“I was trying to act like a fine gold watch and I was really a poor gold
watch. I was a humbug, but it wasn’t my fault. It was the fault of the
people who made me. Anyway, now I am here to be fixed up so I can be what
I pretend to be—a timekeeper. But there are people who don’t appreciate
moments! Oh, wasted moments are such a pity when people could make so
much use of them in working or playing—anything but wasting them! That is
what I think is the greatest pity of all.”
SEPTEMBER 14: Welcome, the Dog
“There was once an old, old lady who lived all alone,” said daddy. “Her
only companion was a big dog whose name was Fred.
“But one day Fred got sick. Oh, he was such a sick doggie. He could
scarcely wag his tail when his mistress asked him how he was. He just
looked at her out of his big eyes and made queer little sounds in his
throat, which in dog language meant, ‘Don’t worry, kind mistress. It
makes me sad to see you so unhappy.’
“But Fred only grew worse and worse. The dog doctor came, and said Fred
was dying of old age. Poor faithful Fred! How he did hate to leave his
mistress. He seemed to know how much she would miss him.
“A week passed by and at the end of a long night when Fred had dozed off
and on with his head in his mistress’ lap, his breathing stopped. And
over his shaggy fur the old lady’s tears fell hour after hour.
“Now one day, some little while after Fred had died, the old lady was
sitting by her window looking out on the village street. There at her
door was a big dog—he looked very much like Fred but he was young and he
jumped and bounded.
“‘Scratch! Scratch,’ went his paws on the door, and the old lady slowly
got up and let him in.
“‘Whose doggie are you?’ she asked.
“The dog looked at her for a moment, jumped about and then licked her
hand, as if to say, ‘I am yours, if you will have me.’
“She brought him some milk to drink, and gave him a bone. While he was
playing with his bone, she put on her bonnet and shawl.
“‘Come with me,’ said the old lady. ‘But you mustn’t go too fast.’
“And along the village street they went—the dog going off on short runs,
but always coming back to join his new mistress.
“From house to house, from store to store, they went, and the old lady’s
question was always the same, ‘Do you know from where this dog came?’
“And always she got the same answer, ‘We have never seen the dog before.
But he looks like Fred. Maybe he is one of Fred’s grandchildren—you had
better keep him.’
“‘I shall name you Welcome,’ she said to the dog, ‘for you were very,
very welcome to me. I was so lonely.’ And several tears fell from the old
lady’s eyes—but now they fell from joy.”
SEPTEMBER 15: The Children’s Museum
“The other day,” said daddy, “when I had to be in Washington on business,
I found a little spare time in which to visit the children’s miniature
museum in a building known as the Smithsonian Institution. Now, in this
museum, where there were different kinds of birds and insects and trees,
there was a description of the bird or of the insect, and of its ways.
Among the insects and spiders were some scorpions and the thousand legged
creature. Mr. Thousand Legs is very long and has lots of little legs
underneath him.
“Of course he must have lots and lots of little legs when he is called
Mr. Thousand Legs.
“Then I saw Mr. Tarantula from South America. Mr. Tarantula can catch
birds. Then Mr. Giant Walking Stick was there with long feelers coming
from his head. He, too, had been brought from South America.
“He had some little feelers, too, and three pairs of legs which are
almost enough for any creature.
“He was grayish white in color.
“Then,” daddy continued, “there were examples of different kinds of trees
and of the different creatures who lived in the trees, and of how they
could protect themselves by the color of the nests they made, and by the
safety habits they had.
“For example, the Brown Creeper creeps over the bark of trees which have
much the same coloring as his feathers.
“The Wood Pewee has a nest, bending down, in the tree, shaped and fixed
so that it almost looks like a part of the tree.
“Then the bird called the Least Tern always lays its eggs among the
pebbles on the beach and the eggs and the babies are much the same color
as the pebbles.
“In that way the Least Tern can protect the eggs from the Sea Gulls who
would steal them if they thought they were eggs instead of pebbles.
“Mrs. Night-hawk’s ground nest is made to look like dead leaves and just
like the ground. It is hidden that way. And it made me think yet again
how clever the birds are.”
SEPTEMBER 16: Prince, the Horse
“I have a true story to tell you,” commenced daddy, “of a horse who
wouldn’t be sold!
“The horse’s name was Prince, and he belonged to a farmer who had six
nice little children.
“One day along the road came a man in a big wagon, driving two horses.
The children didn’t like the looks of the man though they didn’t
quite know why, until he said: ‘That’s a fine horse you drove to town
yesterday. I’ll buy him from you for three hundred dollars.’ Now the
farmer was not rich—he was really poor, and he needed three hundred
dollars more than he needed Prince.
“‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘I’ll sell him to you.’
“The next morning when the farmer got up—very early—for the children had
said their good-bys to Prince, and none of them could bear to see him
go—he went over to the stable and hitched Prince to the wagon.
“Prince gave a low ‘Whinny-whinny,’ and licked his master’s hand.
“‘Oh Prince, Prince, don’t do that,’ said his master half choking with
tears. And Prince neighed softly.
“They started off, the farmer holding the reins loosely, as if he
couldn’t bear to guide Prince to the town. Prince knew where he was going
and went ahead. But every few minutes he would turn around, and look at
his master, and there were real tears in his big eyes. ‘Prince,’ shouted
his master, ‘you’re worth more to us than that money! Turn around!’ And
Prince neighed joyfully this time, as his master turned him around, and
said, ‘Home, Prince, we’re going home!’”
SEPTEMBER 17: The Deer
“Far away,” said daddy, “some men went hunting.”
“‘We hope to get a couple of deer,’ they said. ‘And of course, we’d like
it better if we could get more.’
“They thought they were going out for a great deal of fun and they
planned what they should take to eat and what a glorious grown-up picnic
they would have.
“They went hunting on the first day of their trip, and there, sure
enough, was a deer. Oh, such a lovely deer! His eyes were soft brown in
color and very large and beautiful.
“He had left his mate to go hunting for food and here he was caught by
the men. He could not run. He just stood there for one awful moment, his
great eyes looking at the men.
“‘Oh men,’ he was trying to say, ‘oh great, big men with guns, don’t
shoot me down. I do no harm. I am gentle. I have a mate. I don’t want to
be shot. Oh men, you men with guns! You are so powerful, so strong. What
can I do? But have pity on me. Think of me killed and enjoyed by you as
food, and my poor mate crying away by herself in the woods.’
“‘Sometimes,’ said one of the men, ‘I cannot bear to shoot one of these
lovely creatures. They look so sad. And this one is struck still with
fear.’
“‘Oh, nonsense,’ said one of the other men, ‘you always get this way on
the first day of our hunting trip. Think what good venison we will have.’
For venison is the meat of the deer.
“And the man’s kindness fled from him and a loud bang-bang ended the
beautiful deer’s life—the deer with the big brown eyes which begged and
pleaded for kindness—not for gunshot.
“The next day the men were off shooting again. They had what they called
a great deal of luck. In truth it means that they killed some of the
woodland animals and could feed on some of the meat.
“They saw deer in great numbers but none of the family of the poor deer
they had killed on the first day.
“On the fifth day of their trip they saw the doe who was the mate of the
deer. She, too, had beautiful soft brown eyes and with her a lovely fawn
child.
“‘Oh look,’ said the men, ‘there is a doe. And a fawn with her.’
“‘There is a fine against us if we kill a mother deer,’ said one.
“‘Who will know?’ said another.
“Now the man who had shown a little bit of kindness on the first day by
feeling badly to kill the deer was the one who spoke next. To be sure, he
had not felt badly enough to have prevented the killing of the deer, nor
had he gone home and given up hunting. But he was like those people who
haven’t the courage to say they don’t want to do a thing when they know
and feel it is cruel and wrong. They just go on doing it to be thought
fine and manly.
“But to continue with the story. The man spoke and this time he meant
what he said.
“‘I cannot bear to kill that mother doe and her lovely fawn. She is
running from us, and I, for one, won’t try to get her.’
“The mother doe and fawn had vanished and were safe back in the woods.
Oh, how her heart was beating. ‘It was those men who killed my mate,’ she
was saying to her fawn child.
“And the fawn nestled close to her mother and licked her head to tell her
how much she was still loved by her child.
“‘Yes,’ said the mother deer, ‘I am all alone without my mate, but I have
you safe with me.’
“But for days and days the mother had great trouble in keeping her child
safe from harm. For it was the time when the men were around with the big
guns and the look in their eyes to kill the creatures of the woods and
forests.
“And when the men from the hunting trip I have told you about went home,
one man vowed he would never join them again. And he kept his word.
Neither did he eat any of the venison, for he could not get from his mind
the thought of those great brown eyes begging for pity from the strong
men with the guns. And something deep within him must have told him of
the lonely mate left in the woods, for never again did he go hunting.”
SEPTEMBER 18: A Black Cat
“A little girl,” said daddy, “owned a beautiful big black cat. The little
girl’s name was Carrie and the cat’s name was Mrs. Coal. One day Mrs.
Coal’s eyes were shining very brightly and she rubbed up against Carrie
as if to say:
“‘I am so happy,’ and how she purred.
“From the look in Mrs. Coal’s green eyes Carrie knew that she wanted her
to follow somewhere.
“Way back in a storeroom lying on an old worn-out mattress were five
little bits of fuzz.
“Mrs. Coal looked at Carrie and then licked the tiny little bits of fuzz
with her big tongue. ‘My little kittens, my babies,’ was what she was
saying in cat talk.”
SEPTEMBER 19: The Oysters
“Fellow Oysters,” said a little oyster, “it was cold last winter. What is
more, it was freezing cold. And what is still more, the water was frozen
over, oh so strongly, and so securely.
“I have heard that our relatives were so hard to get that they were very,
very expensive. They cost too much and so very few went into people’s
mouths.”
“Great, great, great,” all the oysters shouted with glee.
SEPTEMBER 20: The Elevator
“The elevator,” said daddy, “had stopped at the ground floor of a
building and as it was during a time of the day when the people were not
using it very much, it had plenty of time to rest.
“‘Yes,’ it said to the ground floor, ‘pretty soon the rush will begin.
Very few people get down to their business before this, very few indeed,
and very few come just around this time.
“‘But in a very short time they will be coming. They’ll rush and they’ll
be so affectionate with me.’
“‘My dear elevator,’ said the ground floor, ‘when people rush at you
in the morning it is not because they love you so but because they are
almost late to business or are afraid they will be.’
“‘Oh dear,’ said the elevator, ‘I thought they loved me so. Still it
makes no difference. I am but an elevator and I haven’t feelings, so I
shall recover from what you have told me. Anyway I never get so high up
people can’t reach me.
“‘Now there are some creatures who, when they reach high and lofty
positions won’t notice those who are down below them. But not your friend
the elevator.
“‘No, no matter how high I go, up to the highest floor of this high
building, I never fail to think of the people down below on you, ground
floor, and down I come for them. I never forget the people down below
even if I do go up high in life!’”
SEPTEMBER 21: The Fog
“I want a change,” said one of the drops of water in a river.
“And so do I,” said one of the drops of water in a near-by lake.
“I want a change to the air,” said a little brook, and a tiny stream
said, “I want to be up in the world for a little while.”
A few drops in the big ocean not far away heard the murmurings of the
river, lake, brook and stream and said in roaring, rumbling tones: “Let’s
have a change. One, two, three, now all together go!”
Then up in the air went the drops from the ocean, river, brook and stream
that had wanted a change and a great fog was over all.
SEPTEMBER 22: The Land of Nod
“You must go off to the Land of Nod,” said a mother to her little boy
whose name was Douglas, and before long Douglas saw a Goblin standing
before him.
“We must visit the circus of the Land of Nod,” said the Goblin. And off
they went to see the circus.
It was just like a regular circus. There were clowns, a band, ladies
in pink and yellow and blue who rode on white horses and little black
ponies. There were bicycle riders and trapeze performers, and there was
even popcorn!
“What does it all mean?” asked Douglas. “The Land of Nod has everything.”
“Of course,” said the Goblin. “For the Land of Nod is the land of
wonderful dreams—dreams of things that really happen in this wonderful
world. And come again,” added the Goblin, for Douglas was opening his
sleepy eyes as it was bright daylight.
SEPTEMBER 23: The Homesick Chicken
“Now one of Mrs. Turkey’s children,” commenced daddy, “had been stolen by
a great big rat. So Mrs. Turkey said to herself: ‘I think I will take a
chicken and look after it. Mrs. Hen won’t mind. She has so many to look
after as it is. It will probably be a great relief to her to have one
less.’
“Mrs. Turkey talked on in this way and she called the chicken she liked
best.
“‘Come here to me,’ she said, and she tried to make her voice sound as a
Mother Hen’s would sound.
“The little chicken came running to the side of the turkey and seemed to
be quite happy and contented. The turkey fed the chicken when she fed her
own children and she looked after him all day long.
“But when evening came and the turkeys were ready to go up to the tree to
roost as they always do when night-time comes, the poor little chicken
wished he had not left his own mother.
“‘I was very bad to leave my mother,’ he whispered in a fretful little
voice.
“‘Come on up the tree,’ said Mrs. Turkey, who had reached the topmost
branch. ‘I am ready to go to sleep and all the turkeys are. We want to
put our heads under our wings. We are very sleepy.’
“‘But I can’t get up there,’ said the chicken.
“‘Try,’ said Mrs. Turkey.
“The turkey children began to laugh at the poor little chicken who
couldn’t fly to a branch of the tree.
“‘Gobble, gobble, gobble,’ they said. ‘Can’t you fly?’
“And the little chicken stayed on the ground below looking very unhappy.
“‘We can’t keep awake any longer,’ said the turkey children.
“‘Go to sleep, my loves,’ said their mother. ‘You are good children and
know how to roost in a tree and have a good night’s rest.’
“‘I could roost and have a sleep too,’ moaned the chicken, ‘if you’d come
down low.’
“‘Now this is annoying,’ said the Mother Turkey. ‘Didn’t I give you good
things to eat and look after you all day?’
“‘Yes,’ said the chicken.
“‘And didn’t I let you play with my splendid children?’
“‘Yes,’ said the chicken again.
“‘Well, can’t you be grateful and come to bed like a good chicken. Show
you are fine enough to belong to a turkey family.’
“‘But I don’t want to belong to a turkey family! I am a chicken and I am
used to the ways of chickens. I wish I were back home.’
“‘Well, go home then, you little silly,’ said Mrs. Turkey. ‘It’s the last
time I pay a compliment to a chicken by asking to bring him up as one of
my own. You’re not able to fly up to this branch. Shame!’
“‘I’m very thankful for the pleasant day you gave me,’ said the chicken
politely, ‘but I really must be going now. For I’m just a little bit
homesick and I want my Mother Hen.’
“Here the chicken began to cry, and from a short distance away the
turkeys heard a ‘cackle, cackle!’
“Along the ground half walking and half flying as best she could, came
the Mother Hen.
“‘Ah, here you are, my naughty chicken,’ she said, but so happy was she
to find her child that she didn’t scold any more.
“‘Oh, take me home to the chicken roost,’ said the little chicken.
“‘Yes,’ said the Mother Turkey. ‘I do not care for your child.’
“‘You had no right to take him away,’ said Mother Hen. ‘If you weren’t so
high up I’d thrash you with my wings.’
“‘I’m afraid you couldn’t in the first place,’ said Mrs. Turkey politely,
‘and in the second place you should be glad I’m ’way up here, because
your child couldn’t fly this far and so got homesick.’
“‘Oh, I’ll never leave home again,’ said the chicken as he reached the
chicken roost, which was just right for him. And the Mother Hen cackled a
happy ‘Good Night.’”
SEPTEMBER 24: Mrs. Duck’s Dinner
The Ducks settled themselves comfortably for Mrs. Duck’s dinner party.
Mrs. Duck’s husband came forth from one end of the pond with an enormous
tray and his tray was filled with bugs which the ducks love.
Oh, no, Mr. Duck didn’t carry the water-lily-leaf tray. He pushed it
ahead of him through the pond with his long bill. And then all the Ducks
gathered around and picked out the bug they liked the best. So altogether
it was a most successful dinner party.
SEPTEMBER 25: Doll Children
“A little girl named Helen,” said daddy, “gave her dolls a wonderful tea
party.
“She asked her four best friends to come and bring their dolls.
Altogether there were twelve dolls at the party.
“The dolls had stiff little chairs to sit upon and they behaved very well
indeed. In fact none of them fell on their faces as sometimes dolls are
apt to do.
“And the little girls stood behind them and gave them make-believe things
to eat on little dishes. Then when the dolls had finished their tea the
little girls had cambric tea, bread and butter and sponge cake. And that
was the best of all!”
SEPTEMBER 26: The Leaves
“The reason we are so glorious,” said the autumn leaves which had just
turned into lovely colors, “is because we want to make a beautiful
going-away bow of farewell.”
SEPTEMBER 27: The Dawn Fairies
“Once a little boy had heard of the dawn fairies,” said daddy, “and was
so eager to see them that he got up long before day-break—in fact, before
the fairies themselves were up, for they sleep when it is really dark.
This little boy hid in the trunk of a tree. After what seemed a long time
to him the lovely gray dawn fairies came out from their sleeping places,
and he heard them laugh their low bell-like laughs. Suddenly one of them
realized that some one was around and caught sight of the little boy. ‘Oh
dear,’ shrieked the fairy; ‘there’s a huge person near us!’ at which all
the fairies scattered.
“From that day the fairy queen has been careful that no one else should
see the dawn fairies, and so they all dress in invisible costumes.”
SEPTEMBER 28: The Dream
“One night,” said daddy, “a little boy named Julius had a dream in which
he joined a circus and so successful was he as a bareback rider that when
he awoke he said, ‘When I grow up I shall join a circus. I’ll be a great
rider.’ For his dream had seemed very real!”
SEPTEMBER 29: The Monkey’s Collar
“Gyp, the monkey,” said daddy, “was ill. He had hurt his right foot and
it had been bandaged by the doctor.
“Gyp had been very good while this was done and had taken his medicine
like a little man, or rather, I should say, like a little monkey.
“But how the bandage did annoy him! He had to stay quite still and not
move his leg at all. That was so hard! He tried to keep still and yet he
longed to play, for the nice liniment which had been put on the bandage
quickly made the horrid foot feel so much better.
“Yes, he was quite sure that if he hadn’t the bandage on he would be
better. And so he tugged at the bandage and got it off.
“Then how the foot did hurt! No longer was it protected by the soft rags
and the soothing liniment! Whew, how it did hurt! And Gyp did not know
what to make of it.
“He felt very sad to think that his foot was really no better, and there,
he had thought it was just about well. He cried a little, for even though
he was a very brave monkey the pain was so hard to bear.
“Now, his master came along and saw what had happened.
“‘You have taken off your bandage,’ he said.
“The monkey did not say anything, but he curled up by his master and
tried with his eyes to say:
“‘The foot aches, the pain is very bad, master.’
“‘I understand,’ said the master. ‘But we must have a fresh bandage.’
“The master sent for the doctor again, and once more a bandage was put on
Gyp’s foot, and once more the foot began to feel much much better.
“After a little while Gyp said to himself: ‘I am sure it must be really
well this time. It feels better than ever. In fact, there is no horrid
pain there now.’
“So he yanked off the bandage and once more the pain set in. This time he
howled, and quickly his master came to him.
“‘Oh, Gyp,’ he said, ‘you’ve worked off that bandage again. Oh, Gyp, why
did you do such a thing?’ And Gyp looked very sad. For he felt he had
been naughty from the tone of his master’s voice, and yet he hadn’t meant
to be. He just had thought his foot was all well, and the bandage did get
in his way and made him stay so still—so awfully still for a monkey to
stay.
“‘We’ll have to have another bandage,’ said his master.
“Pretty soon the doctor came again.
“‘What!’ he exclaimed. ‘You don’t mean to tell me that the monkey has
taken off his bandage again? What a bad monkey.’
[Illustration: “AFTER A LONG TIME THE LOVELY DAWN FAIRIES CAME OUT FROM
THEIR SLEEPING PLACES”—_Page 229_]
“Gyp hung his head in shame, but his master understood. ‘Gyp didn’t mean
to be naughty,’ he said. ‘We must be patient with him, for he wants to
get well.’
“And Gyp, who was watching the other monkey, his chief friend and
companion, playing and jumping and swinging, would have told the master
and doctor if he had known how, that he certainly did not want to be ill.
“‘Once more, doctor, just once more,’ said the master. ‘This time the
bandage won’t come off.’
“‘How do you know it won’t?’ asked the doctor. ‘In fact, I don’t see why
you don’t say that you know it is bound to come off.’
“‘You bandage it nicely, doctor,’ said the master, ‘and in a moment I
will come back.’
“The doctor bandaged the foot and the monkey was very patient. The doctor
was really kind and talked in gentle tones to Gyp while he was caring for
the foot. That kept Gyp from being frightened. How fine the bandage and
soothing liniment did feel! He knew he would be all well soon!
“Just then the master came back carrying a little round collar—it was
rather wide and yet it was not at all heavy and rough. He put it around
Gyp’s neck, just holding in Gyp’s arms enough so that he could not reach
his bandage. The wide collar got in his way. But Gyp understood, and when
the foot was all well, off came the collar which had helped so much.”
SEPTEMBER 30: Mr. Fox’s Marketing