in the woods itself, you are sure to see one of the Seven Sorrel
Sisters, with leaves a little like Clover, only notched in the end and
without the white marks, that the Brownie put on the Clover. There are
seven of them, according to most doctors; five have yellow eyes, one
purple, and one white streaked with blood. Their Latin name means
"vinegar" and their Greek name means "acid." "Sorrel" itself means
"Little sour one," so you see they have the reputation of a sour bunch.
If you eat one of the leaves, you will agree that the name was
well-chosen, and understand why the druggists get the tart "salt of
lemons" from this family. The French use these Sour Sisters for their
sour soup. But in spite of their unsweetness, they are among the pretty
things of the woods; their forms are delicate and graceful; their eyes
are like jewels, and when the night comes down, they bow their heads,
gracefully fold their hands, and sleep like a lot of tired children.
TALE 26
Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass
[Illustration: Self-heal or Blue-curls in the Grass]
You should know the history of the lowly little flower called
Blue-curls; and you must remember that flowers have their troubles just
as you have. For one thing, flowers must get their pollen or yellow
flower-dust, carried to some other of their kind, or they cannot keep on
growing good seed. And since the flower cannot walk about finding places
for its pollen, it generally makes a bargain with a bee. It says, "If
you will carry my pollen to my cousins yonder, I will give you a sweet
sip of nectar." That is where the bees get the stuff for all their
honey, and that is how the pollen is carried.
Well, the modest little Blue-curls long had had a working agreement with
the Meadow Bees, and got on nicely. But one summer Blue-curls became
discontented. She saw all the other plants with wonderful gifts that had
power to cure pain and sickness; while she was doing nothing but live
her own easy life, and she felt she was a nobody.
So one day as Mother Carey's slowest steed was swishing over the grass,
Blue-curls cried out: "Mother Carey, Mother Carey, won't you hear me and
grant me a gift?"
"What is it, little one?" said the All-mother.
"Oh, Mother Carey, the pansy cures heartache, the monkshood cures
canker-lip, the tansy cures colds, and all the others have some joy and
honour of service, but I am good for nothing, Mother Carey so the wise
men despise me. Won't you give me a job? Won't you give me some little
power?"
"Little one, such an asking never finds me deaf. I love those who would
help. I will give you a little bit of _all healing_ so that you shall be
good medicine, if not the best, for all ills, and men shall call you
'Self-heal' and 'All-heal' for you shall have all healing in yourself."
And it has been so ever since. So that some who go by looks call the
modest little meadow flower, "Blue-curls in the Grass," but the old
herb-men who know her goodness call her "All-heal" or "Self-heal."
TALE 27
The Four Butterflies You See Every Summer
[Illustration: Summer Butterflies (a little over life size)]
There are four Butterflies that you are sure to see every summer, on our
fields; and remember that each of them goes through the same changes.
First it is an egg, then a greedy grub, next a hanging bundle-baby,
and last a beautiful winged fairy, living a life of freedom and joy.
In the picture I have shown the butterflies life size, but you must add
the colour as you get each one to copy.
The first is the _White_ or _Cabbage Butterfly_ that flits over our
gardens all summer long.
It is not a true American, but came from Europe in 1860 and landed at
Quebec, from whence it has spread all over the country. In the drawing I
have shown the female; the male is nearly the same but has only one
round dark spot on the front wings. Its grub is a little naked green
caterpillar, that eats very nearly a million dollars' worth of cabbages
a year; so it is a pity it was ever allowed to land in this country.
There are moths that we should like to get rid of, but this is the only
butterfly that is a pest.
2nd. The _Yellow_ or _Clouded Sulphur Butterfly_. You are sure to find
it, as soon as you begin to look for butterflies. This is the one that
is often seen in flocks about mud puddles.
When I was a very small boy, I once caught a dozen of them, and made a
little beehive to hold them, thinking that they would settle down and
make themselves at home, just like bees or pigeons. But the grown-ups
made me let them fly away, for the Sulphur is a kindly creature, and
does little or no harm.
One of the most beautiful things I ever came across, was, when about ten
years old, I saw on a fence stake ahead of me a big bird that was red,
white and blue, with a flaming yellow fan-crest. Then as I came closer,
I knew that it was a red-headed woodpecker, with a Sulphur Butterfly in
his beak; this made the crest; what I thought was blue turned out to be
his glossy black back reflecting the blue sky.
3rd. The next is the _Red Admiral_ or _Nettle Butterfly_. The "red" part
of the name is right, but why "Admiral"? I never could see unless it was
misprint for "Admirable."
[Illustration: Red Admiral]
[Illustration: Tiger Swallowtail (life size)]
This beautiful insect lays its eggs and raises its young on nettles, and
where nettles are, there is the Red Admiral also. And that means over
nearly all the world! Its caterpillar is not very well protected with
bristles, not at all when compared with the Woolly-bear, but it lives in
the nettles, and, whether they like it or not, the hospitable nettles
with their stings protect the caterpillar. The crawler may be grateful,
but he shows it in a poor way, for he turns on the faithful nettle, and
eats it up. In fact the only food he cares about is nettle-salad, and he
indulges in it several times a day, yes all day long, eating, growing
and bursting his skin a number of times, till he is big enough to hang
himself up for the winter, probably in a nettle. Then next spring he
comes forth, in the full dress uniform of a Red Admiral, gold lace, red
sash, silver braid and all.
4th. The last of the four is the _Tiger Swallowtail_. You are sure to
see it some day--the big yellow butterfly that is striped like a tiger,
with peacock's feathers in its train, and two long prongs, like a
swallow-tail, to finish off with. It is found in nearly all parts of the
Eastern States and Canada. I saw great flocks of them on the Slave River
of the North.
It is remarkable in that there are both blondes and brunettes among its
ladies. The one shown in the drawing is a blonde. The brunettes are so
much darker as to be nearly black; and so different that at one time
everyone thought they were of a different kind altogether.
TALE 28
The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar
[Illustration: The Beautiful Poison Caterpillar (the moth is a little
over life size)]
The lovely Io Moth is one that you will see early, and never forget, for
it is common, and ranges over all the country from Canada to the Gulf.
When you see it, you will be inclined to spell its name Eye-oh--for it
has on each wing a splendid eye like that on a peacock's tail-feather,
while the rest of its dress is brown velvet and gold.
There is a strange chapter in the life of Io, which you should know
because it shows that Mother Carey never gives any wonderful gift to her
creatures without also giving with it some equal burden of sorrow.
This is how it all came about.
Long ago when the little ones of the Io Moth were small, they were, like
most caterpillars, very ugly little things. They felt very badly about
it, and so they set out one day for the great Home Place of Mother Carey
in the Whispering Grove of the Ages.
There they prayed, "Dear Mother Carey, we are not of an ugly race, why
should we be so ugly as caterpillars? Will you not make us beautiful,
for beauty is one of the best things of all?"
Mother Carey smiled and waved a finger toward a little Brownie, who came
with a tray on which were two cups; one full of bright sparkling pink
stuff, and the other with something that looked like dark green oil. But
the glasses were joined at the top, there was but one place to drink,
and that reached both.
Then Mother Carey said, "These are the goblets of life, one is balm and
will give you joy, the other is gall and will give you suffering. You
may drink little or much, but you must drink equally of both. Now what
would ye?"
The little ugly creatures whispered together, then one said: "Mother
Carey, if we drink, will it give us beauty?"
"Yes, my children, the red goblet of life will give you beauty, but with
it the other will give you grief."
They whispered together, then all the little crawlers went silently
forward, and each took a long drink of the double goblet.
Then they crawled away, and at once became the most beautiful of all
caterpillars, brilliant jewel-green with stripes of pink, velvet, and
gold. Never before were there seen such exquisite little crawlers.
But now a sad thing happened. They were so beautiful that many creatures
became their enemies, and began to kill them and eat them one after
another. They crawled as fast as they could, and hid away, but many of
them were killed by birds and beasts of prey, as well as by big fierce
insects.
They did not know what to do, so next day the few that were left crawled
back to the Grove of Ages, and once more stood before Mother Carey.
"Well, my Beauty-crawlers," she said, "what would you?"
"Oh, Mother Carey, it is fearful, everyone seeks to destroy us. Most of
us are killed, and many of us wounded. Will you not protect us?"
"You drank of the two goblets, my children. I warned you that your
beauty would bring terrible trouble with it."
They bowed their little heads in silent sorrow, for they knew that that
was true.
"Now," said the All-Mother, "do you wish to go back and be ugly again?"
They whispered together and said: "No, Mother Carey, it is better to be
beautiful and die."
[Illustration: The Splendid Silk-Moth (about 1/2 life size)]
Then Mother Carey looked on them very kindly, and said: "Little ones, I
love your brave spirit. You shall not die. Neither shall you lose your
beauty. I will give you a defence that will keep off all your enemies
but one, that is the Long-stinger Wasp, for you must in some way pay for
your loveliness." She waved her wand, and all over each of the
Beauty-crawlers, there came out bunches of sharp stickers like porcupine
quills, only they were worse than porcupine quills for each of the
stickers was poisoned at the tip, so that no creature could touch the
Beauty-crawlers without being stung.
The birds and beasts let them alone now, or suffer a terrible punishment
from the poison spears. You children, too, must beware of them; touch
them not, they will give you festering wounds. There is only one
creature now that the Beauty-crawlers truly fear; that is the
Long-stinger Wasp. He does indeed take toll of their race, but that is
the price they still must pay for their beauty. Did they not drink of
the double goblet?
TALE 29
The Great Splendid Silk-Moth or _Samia Cecropia_
When I was a very small boy, I saw my father bring in from the orchard a
ragged looking thing like parchment wrapped up with some tangled hair;
it was really the bundle-baby of this Moth. He kept it all winter, and
when the spring came, I saw for the first time the great miracle of the
insect world--the rag bundle was split open, and out came this glorious
creature with wings of red and brown velvet, embroidered with silver and
spots that looked like precious stones. It seemed the rarest thing in
the world, but I have found out since, that it is one of our common
moths, and any of you can get one, if you take the trouble.
* * * * *
Now listen, and you shall hear of what happened long ago to a green
crawler who was born to be a splendid Silk-Moth, but who spoiled it all
by a bad temper.
It had been a very cold, wet summer, and one day, when the wind was
whispering, he cried out: "Mother Carey, when I have done with my
working life, and go into the Great Sleep, grant that it may never rain
on me for I hate rain, and it has done nothing but pour all summer
long." And he shivered the red knobs on his head with peevishness.
"You silly little green crawler, don't you think I know better than you
what is good for you? Would you like there to be no rain?"
"Yes, I would," said the red-knobbed Samia rebelliously.
"Would _you_?" said the All-Mother to another green crawler, who hung on
a near-by limb.
"Mother Carey, we have had a wet, cold summer, and the rain has been
miserable, but I know you will take care of us."
"Good," said the All-Mother: "then, in this way it shall be. You little
Red-Knobs shall have what you so much wish, you shall hang up in a dry
loft where not a drop of dew even shall touch you in your bundle-baby
sleep. And you little Yellow-Knobs shall hang under a limb where every
rain that comes shall drench your outer skin." And she left them.
When the time came to hang up, Red-Knobs was led to a place as dry as
could be, under a shed and swung his bundle-baby hammock from the
rafters.
Yellow-Knobs hung up his hammock under a twig in the rose garden.
The winter passed, and the springtime came with the great awakening day.
Each of the bundle-babies awoke from his hammock and broke his bonds.
Each found his new wings, and set about shaking them out to full size
and shape. Those of the rain-baby came quickly to their proper form, and
away he flew to rejoice in perfect life. But though the other shook and
shook, his wings would not fluff out. They seemed dried up; they were
numbed and of stunted growth.
Shake as he would, the wings stayed small and twisted. And as he
struggled, a Butcher-bird came by. His fierce eye was drawn by the
fluttering purple thing. It had no power to escape. He tore its crumpled
wings from its feathery form, and made of it a meal. But before dying it
had time to say, "Oh, Mother Carey, now I know that your way was the
best."
TALE 30
The Green Fairy with the Long Train
Some fairies are Brownies and some are Greenies, and of all that really
and truly dance in the moonlight right here in America, Luna Greenie
seems the most wonderful; and this is her history:
Once upon a time there was a seed pearl that dropped from the robe of a
green fairy. It stuck on the leaf of a butternut tree till one warm day
Mother Carey, who knows all the wild things and loves them all, touched
it with her magic wand, called Hatch-awake, and out of the seed pearl
came an extraordinarily ugly little dwarf, crawling about on many legs.
He was just as greedy as he was ugly, and he ate leaf after leaf of the
butternut tree, and grew so fat that he burst his skin. Then a new skin
grew, and he kept on eating and bursting until he was quite big. But he
had also become wise and gentle; he had learned many things, and was not
quite so greedy now.
[Illustration: The Green Fairy With the Long Train (about 4/5 life
size)]
Mother Carey, the All-Mother, had been watching him, and knew that now
he was ready for the next step up. She told him to make himself a
hammock of rags and leaves, in the butternut tree. When he had crawled
into it, she touched him with her wand, the very same as the one she
used when she sent the Sleeping Beauty into her long sleep. Then that
little dwarf went soundly to sleep, hanging in his hammock.
Summer passed; autumn came; the leaves fell from the butternut tree,
taking the bundle-baby with them, exactly as in the old rhyme:
Rock-a-bye baby on the tree-top,
When the wind blows, your cradle will rock,
When the cold weather makes all the leaves fall,
Down tumbles baby and cradle and all.
But the hammock, with its sleeper, landed in a deep bed of leaves, and
lay there all winter, quite safe and warm.
Then when the springtime sun came over the hill, Mother Carey came
a-riding on the Warm Wind, and waving her wand. She stopped and kissed
the sleeping bundle-baby, just as the Prince kissed the Sleeping Beauty,
and instantly the baby awoke. Then happened the strangest thing. Out of
that ragged old hammock there came the most wonderful and beautiful
Green Fairy ever seen, with wings and with two trains; and as it came
out and looked shyly around, trembling with new life, Mother Carey
whispered, "Go to the butternut grove and see what awaits you there."
So away she went. Oh, how easy and glorious it is to fly! She could
remember how once she used to crawl everywhere. And through the soft
sweet night she flew, as she was told, straight to the butternut grove.
As she came near she saw many green fairies--a great crowd of
them--gathered in the moonlight, and dancing round and round in
fluttering circles, swooping about and chasing each other, or hiding in
the leaves. They did not feast, for these fairies never eat, and they
drink only honey from flowers. But there was a spirit of great joy over
them all. And there were some there with longer head plumes than those
she wore. They seemed stronger and one of them came with a glad greeting
to the new Green Dancer and though she flew away, she was bursting with
joy that he should single her out. He pursued her till he caught her,
and hand in hand they danced together in the moonlight. She was happier
than she had known it was possible to be, and danced all night--that
wonderful wedding dance. But she was very tired when morning was near,
and high in the tree she slept so soundly that she never noticed that
many seed pearls that were clustered on the lining of her robe had got
loose and rolled into the crevices of the trunk. There they lay until
Mother Carey came to touch them with her magic wand, so each became a
crawler-dwarf, then a bundle-baby, and at last a dancing fairy.
But the Green Dancer did not know that--she knew only that it was a
glorious thing to be alive, and fly, and to dance in the moonlight.
* * * * *
You must never fail to watch under the butternut tree on mid-summer
nights, for it is quite possible that you may see the wedding dance of
the Luna Greenie and her sisters with the long-trained robes.
TALE 31
The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon
[Illustration: The Wicked Hoptoad and the Little Yellow Dragon]
Once upon a time, there was a beautiful little Yellow Dragon, who lived
a happy and innocent life on the high banks of a prattling stream. The
Dragon himself was dumb but he loved a merry noise, and nothing
pleased him more than the prattling of the water. Sometimes this
pleasant little Dragon went up stream, where it was noisy, and sometimes
he went down stream, where it was very silent, and rested awhile in
little pools. Here it was that he met with his first enemy, a warty
Hoptoad with jealous eyes. That Toad thought that he owned the pools
because he bathed there every springtime, and though it was a kind
little Dragon, the Toad hated him, and began to plot against him.
"Ho! little Yellow Dragon," he said, "you are very wonderful to see, and
you must be very clever; but you haven't got everything you want, have
you?"
The Dragon smiled, shook his head, and made silent signs with his lips.
Then the Toad understood, for he said: "Ho-ho, I understand that you
cannot speak. But are you happy?"
The Dragon smiled sweetly and nodded, then pointed to the stream.
That made the Toad madder than ever, for he thought it meant that the
Dragon was claiming the whole stream. So the Toad said: "See, Dragon,
there is a wonderful food that you have never tasted, that is a poached
egg."
This he said with his heart full of guile, for he knew full well that
poached eggs are deadly poison to Dragons.
The Dragon looked puzzled, and the Toad said, "Have you?"
The Dragon shook his head. "Well," said the Toad, "it is the most
delicious thing in the woods; now you wait and see."
He went hoppity-hop, to a sand-bank where he had seen a Turtle lay its
eggs that morning. He dug out one. He rolled it upon a stone, and split
it open with the sharp spur on his heel. As soon as it was stiffened by
the sun heat, he said, "Here now, Dragon, swallow it down, while I get
another for myself."
The poor innocent little Dragon did not know any better. He tried to
swallow the poached egg. The moment he did, it stuck in his throat, and
poisoned him. At once his toes sank into the ground. He turned green all
over, and his head was changed into a strange new flower. There it is to
this day, standing silently where it can hear the brook a-prattling. Its
body is green all over, and its head is yellow and its jaws are wide
open with a poached egg stuck in its throat. And that is how it all came
about. Some call it Toad Flax, and some call it Butter and Eggs, but we
who know how it happened call it the Dragon and the Poached Egg.
Poor dear little Yellow Dragon!
TALE 32
The Fairy Bird or the Humming-bird Moth
When I was a schoolboy, a number of my companions brought the news that
the strangest bird in the world had come that day to our garden and
hovered over the flowers. It was no bigger than a bumble-bee. "No! It
was not a humming-bird," they said, "it was smaller by far, much more
beautiful, and it came and went so fast that no one could see it go."
[Illustration: The Fairy Bird (1-1/2 life size)]
Every guess that I made seemed not to fit the wonderful bird, or help to
give it a name that would lead us to its history in the books. The
summer went by, several schoolmates saw the Wonderbird, and added
stories of its marvellous smallness and mysterious habits. Its body,
they said, was of green velvet with a satin-white throat; it had a
long beak--at least an inch long--a fan-tail of many feathers, two long
plumes from its head, "the littlest feet you ever have seen," and large
lustrous eyes that seemed filled with human intelligence. "It jest
looked right at you, and seemed like a fairy looking at you."
The wonder grew. I made a sketch embodying all the points that my
companions noted about the Fairy Bird. The first drawing shows what it
looked like, and also gives the exact size they said it was.
It seemed a cruel wrong that let so many of them see the thing that was
of chief interest to me, yet left me out. It clearly promised a real
fairy, an elfin bird, a wonderful messenger from the land I hungered to
believe in.
But at last my turn came. One afternoon two of the boys ran toward me,
shouting: "Here it is, the little Fairy Bird, right in the garden over
the honeysuckle. C'mon, quick!"
I rushed to the place, more excited than I can tell. Yes, there it was,
hovering over the open flowers--tiny, wonderful, humming as it swung on
misty wings. I made a quick sweep of my insect net and, marvellous to
relate, scooped up the Fairy Bird. I was trembling with excitement now,
not without a sense of wickedness that I should dare to net a
fairy--practically an angel. But I had done it, and I gloated over my
captive, in the meshes. Yes, the velvet body and snowy throat were
there, the fan-tail, the plumes and the big dark eyes, but the creature
was _not a bird_; it was an insect! Dimly now I remembered, and in a few
hours, learned, as I had feared, that I had not captured a young angel
or even a fairy--it was nothing but a Humming-bird Moth, a beautiful
insect--common in some regions, scarce in some, such as mine--but
perfectly well known to men of science and never afterward forgotten by
any of that eager schoolboy group.
TALE 33
Ribgrass or Whiteman's-Foot
If you live in the country or in a small town, you will not have to go
many steps, in summer time, before you find the little plant known as
Ribgrass, Plantain, or Whiteman's-foot. If you live in a big city, you
may find it in any grassy place, but will surely see it, as soon as you
reach the suburbs. It grows on the ground, wherever it can see the sun,
and is easily known by the strong ribs, each with a string in it when
you pull the leaf apart. The Indians call it Whiteman's-foot, not
because it is broad and flat, but because it came from Europe with the
white man; it springs up wherever he sets his foot, and it has spread
over all America. Gardeners think it a troublesome weed; but the birds
love its seed; canary birds delight in it; and each plant of the
Ribgrass may grow many thousands of seeds in a summer.
How many? Let us see! Take a seed-stalk of the Plantain and you will
find it thickly set with little cups, as in the drawing. Open one of
these cups, and you find in it five seeds. Count the cups; there are two
hundred on this stalk, each with about five seeds, that is, one thousand
seeds; but the plant has five or more seed-stalks, some have more (one
before me now has seventeen), but suppose it has only ten; then there
are 10,000 seeds each summer from one little plant. Each seed can grow
up into a new plant; and, if each plant were as far from the next as you
can step, the little ones in a row the following summer would reach for
nearly six miles; that is, from the City Hall to the end of Central
Park, New York.[B]
[Illustration: The Ribgrass]
[Illustration: Jack-in-the-Pulpit]