After a long and soaking rain, the Earthworms came out of their burrows,
or rather, they came part way out, for each Earthworm put out half of
his body, and, as there were many of them and they lived near to each
other, they could easily visit without leaving their own homes. Two of
these long, slimy people were talking, when a Potato Bug strolled by.
"You poor things," said he, "what a wretched life you must lead.
Spending one's days in the dark earth must be very dreary."
"Dreary!" exclaimed one of the Earthworms, "it is delightful. The earth
is a snug and soft home. It is warm in cold weather and cool in warm
weather. There are no winds to trouble us, and no sun to scorch us."
"But," said the Potato Bug, "it must be very dull. Now, out in the
grass, one finds beautiful flowers, and so many families of friends."
"And down here," answered the Worm, "we have the roots. Some are brown
and woody, like those of the trees, and some are white and slender and
soft. They creep and twine, until it is like passing through a forest to
go among them. And then, there are the seeds. Such busy times as there
are in the ground in spring-time! Each tiny seed awakens and begins to
grow. Its roots must strike downward, and its stalk upward toward the
light. Sometimes the seeds are buried in the earth with the root end up,
and then they have a great time getting twisted around and ready to
grow."
"Still, after the plants are all growing and have their heads in the
air, you must miss them."
"We have the roots always," said the Worm. "And then, when the summer is
over, the plants have done their work, helping to make the world
beautiful and raise their seed babies, and they wither and droop to the
earth again, and little by little the sun and the frost and the rain
help them to melt back into the earth. The earth is the beginning and
the end of plants."
"Do you ever meet the meadow people in it?" asked the Potato Bug.
"Many of them live here as babies," said the Worm. "The May Beetles, the
Grasshoppers, the great Humming-bird Moths, and many others spend their
babyhood here, all wrapped in eggs or cocoons. Then, when they are
strong enough, and their legs and wings are grown, they push their way
out and begin their work. It is their getting-ready time, down here in
the dark. And then, there are the stones, and they are so old and queer.
I am often glad that I am not a stone, for to have to lie still must be
hard to bear. Yet I have heard that they did not always lie so, and that
some of the very pebbles around us tossed and rolled and ground for
years in the bed of a river, and that some of them were rubbed and
broken off of great rocks. Perhaps they are glad now to just lie and
rest."
"Truly," said the Potato Bug, "you have a pleasant home, but give me the
sunshine and fresh air, my six legs, and my striped wings, and you are
welcome to it all."
"You are welcome to them all," answered the Worms. "We are contented
with smooth and shining bodies, with which we can bore and wriggle our
way through the soft, brown earth. We like our task of keeping the
earth right for the plants, and we will work and rest happily here."
The Potato Bug went his way, and said to his brothers, "What do you
think? I have been talking with Earthworms who would not be Potato Bugs
if they could." And they all shook their heads in wonder, for they
thought that to be Potato Bugs was the grandest and happiest thing in
the world.
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