every one that asked to be taken over; so he said, "Yes, I will carry
you across. Hold on well, but do not touch the back of my head, for if
you do, you will fall into the water and go to the bottom of the lake.
Will you obey me?"
"Yes, indeed, I will," said the witch; but she thought, "He would not be
so timid about letting me touch the back of his head if he were not
afraid of my magic. I will put my hand on his head, and then he will
always be in my power." So when they were far out over the lake, she put
her hand on the crane's head, and before she could say "Oh!" she was at
the bottom of the lake.
"You shall never live in the light again," said the crane, "for you have
done no good on earth. You shall be a whitefish, and you shall be food
for the Indians as long as they eat fish."
WAS IT THE FIRST TURTLE?
Once upon a time there was a great fight between two tribes of Indians.
It was so fierce that the river ran red with blood, and the war-cries
were so loud and angry that the animals of the forest ran away in
terror. The warriors fought all day long, and when it began to grow
dark, all the men on one side had been killed but two warriors, one of
whom was known as Turtle. In those days there were no such animals as
turtles in the ponds and rivers, and no one knew why he was called by
that name. At last Turtle's friend was struck by an arrow and fell to
the ground.
"Now yield!" cried the enemies.
"Friend," said Turtle, "are you dead?"
"No," said his friend.
"Then I will fight on," said Turtle, and he called out, "Give life again
to the warriors whom you have killed with your wicked arrows, and then I
will yield, but never before. Come on, cowards that you are! You are
afraid of me. You do not dare to come!"
Then his enemies said, "We will all shoot our arrows at once, and some
one of them will be sure to kill him." They made ready to fire, but
Turtle, too, made ready. He had two thick shields, and he put one over
his back and one over his breast. Then he called to his fierce enemies,
"Are you not ready? Come on, fierce warriors! Shoot your arrows through
my breast if you can."
The warriors all shot, but not an arrow struck Turtle, for the two
shields covered his breast and his back, and whenever an arrow buzzed
through the air, he drew in his head and his arms between the shields,
and so he was not harmed. "Why do you not aim at me?" he cried. "Are you
shooting at the mountain, or at the sun and the moon? Good fighters you
are, indeed! Try again."
His enemies shot once more, and this time an arrow killed the wounded
friend as he lay on the ground. When Turtle cried, "Friend, are you
living?" there was no answer.
"My friend is dead," said Turtle. "I will fight no more."
"He has yielded," cried his enemies.
"He has not," said Turtle, and with one great leap he sprang into the
river. His enemies did not dare to spring after him.
"Those long arms of his would pull us to the bottom," they said; "but we
will watch till he comes up, and then we shall be sure of him."
They were not so sure as they thought, for he did not come up, and all
that they could see in the water was a strange creature unlike anything
that had been there before.
"It has arms and a head," said one.
"And it pulls them out of sight just as Turtle did," said another.
"It has a shield over its back and one over its breast, as Turtle had,"
said the first. Then all the warriors were so eager to watch the strange
animal that they no longer remembered the fight. They crowded up to the
shore of the river.
"It is not Turtle," cried one.
"It _is_ Turtle," declared another.
"It is so like him that I do not care to go into the water as long as it
is in sight," said still another.
"But if this is not Turtle, where is he?" they all asked, and not one of
the wise men of their tribe could answer.
WHY THE CROCODILE HAS A WIDE MOUTH.
"Come to my kingdom whenever you will," said the goddess of the water to
the king of the land. "My waves will be calm, and my animals will be
gentle. They will be as good to your children as if they were my own.
Nothing in all my kingdom will do you harm."
The goddess went back to her home in the sea, and the king walked to the
shore of the river and stood gazing upon the beautiful water. Beside him
walked his youngest son.
"Father," asked the boy, "would the goddess be angry if I went into the
water to swim?"
"No," answered the father. "She says that nothing in all her wide
kingdom will do us harm. The water-animals will be kind, and the waves
will be calm."
The boy went into the water. He could swim as easily as a fish, and he
went from shore to shore, sometimes talking with the fishes, sometimes
getting a bright piece of stone to carry to his father. Suddenly
something caught him by the foot and dragged him down, down, through the
deep, dark water. "Oh, father!" he cried, but his father had gone away
from the shore, and the strange creature, whatever it was, dragged the
boy down to the very bottom of the river.
The river was full of sorrow for what the creature had done, and it
lifted the boy gently and bore him to the feet of the goddess. His eyes
were closed and his face was white, for he was dead. Great tears came
from the eyes of the goddess when she looked at him. "I did not think
any of my animals would do such a cruel thing," she said. "His father
shall never know it, for the boy shall not remember what has happened."
Then she laid her warm hand upon his head, and whispered some words of
magic into his ear. "Open your eyes," she called, and soon they were
wide open. "You went in to swim," said the goddess. "Did the water
please you?"
"Yes, surely."
"Were the water-animals kind to you?"
"Yes, surely," answered the boy, for the magic words had kept him from
remembering anything about the strange creature that had dragged him to
the bottom of the river.
The boy went home to his father, and as soon as he was out of sight, the
goddess called to the water-animals, "Come one, come all, come little,
come great."
"It is the voice of the goddess," said the water-animals, and they all
began to swim toward her as fast as they could.
When they were together before her, she said, "One of you has been cruel
and wicked. One of you has dragged to the bottom of the river the son of
my friend, the king of the land, but I have carried him safely to shore,
and now he is in his home. When he comes again, will you watch over him
wherever in the wide, wide water he may wish to go?"
"Yes!" "Yes!" "Yes!" cried the water-animals.
"Water," asked the goddess, "will you be calm and still when the son of
my friend is my guest?"
"Gladly," answered the water.
Suddenly the goddess caught sight of the crocodile hiding behind the
other animals. "Will you be kind to the boy and keep harm away from
him?" she asked.
[Illustration: "THE MOUTH THAT WILL NOT OPEN MUST BE MADE TO OPEN"]
Now it was the crocodile that had dragged the boy to the bottom of the
river. He wished to say, "Yes," but he did not dare to open his mouth
for fear of saying, "I did it, I did it," so he said not a word. The
goddess cried, "Did you drag the king's son to the bottom of the river?"
Still the crocodile dared not open his mouth for fear of saying, "I did
it, I did it." Then the goddess was angry. She drew her long sword, and
saying, "The mouth that will not open when it should must be made to
open," she struck the crocodile's mouth with the sword. "Oh, look!"
cried the other animals. The crocodile's mouth had opened; there was no
question about _that_, for it had split open so far that he was afraid
he should never be able to keep it closed.
THE STORY OF THE PICTURE ON THE VASE.
On some of the beautiful vases that are made in Japan there is a picture
of a goddess changing a dragon into an island. When the children of
Japan say, "Mother, tell us a story about the picture," this is what the
mother says:--
"Long, long ago there was a goddess of the sea who loved the people of
Japan. She often came out of the water at sunset, and while all the
bright colors were in the sky, she would sit on a high rock that
overlooked the water and tell stories to the children. Such wonderful
stories as they were! She used to tell them all about the strange fishes
that swim in and out among the rocks and the mosses, and about the fair
maidens that live deep down in the sea far under the waves. The children
would ask, 'Are there no children in the sea? Why do they never come out
to play with us?' The goddess would answer, 'Some time they will come,
if you only keep on wishing for them. What children really wish for they
will surely have some day.'
"Then the goddess would sing to the children, and her voice was so sweet
that the evening star would stand still in the sky to listen to her
song. 'Please show us how the water rises and falls,' the children would
beg, and she would hold up a magic stone that she had and say, 'Water,
rise!' Then the waves would come in faster and faster all about the
rock. When she laid down the stone and said, 'Water, fall!' the waves
would be still, and the water would roll back quickly to the deep sea.
She was goddess of the storm as well as of the sea, and sometimes the
children would say, 'Dear goddess, please make us a storm.' She never
said no to what they asked, and so the rain would fall, the lightning
flare, and the thunder roll. The rain would fall all about them, but the
goddess did not let it come near them. They were never afraid of the
lightning, for it was far above their heads, and they knew that the
goddess would not let it come down.
"Those were happy times, but there is something more to tell that is not
pleasant. One of the goddess's sea-animals was a dragon, that often used
to play in the water near the shore. The children never thought of being
afraid of any of the sea-animals, but one day the cruel dragon seized a
little child in his mouth, and in a moment he had eaten it. There was
sadness over the land of Japan. There were tears and sorrowful wailing.
'O goddess,' the people cried, 'come to us! Punish the wicked dragon!'
[Illustration]
"The goddess was angry that one of her creatures should have dared to
harm the little child, and she called aloud, 'Dragon, come to me.' The
dragon came in a moment, for he did not dare to stay away. Then said the
goddess, 'You shall never again play merrily in the water with the
happy sea-animals. You shall be a rocky island. There shall be trees and
plants on you, and before many years have gone, people will no longer
remember that you were once an animal.'
"The dragon found that he could no longer move about as he had done, for
he was changing into rock. Trees and plants grew on his back. He was an
island, and when people looked at it, they said, 'That island was once a
wicked dragon.' The children of the sea and the children of the land
often went to the island, and there they had very happy times together."
This is the story that the mothers tell to their children when they look
at the vases and see the picture of the goddess changing a dragon into
an island. But when the children say, "Mother, where is the island?
Cannot we go to it and play with the sea-children?" the mother answers,
"Oh, this was all a long, long time ago, and no one can tell now where
the island was."
WHY THE WATER IN RIVERS IS NEVER STILL.
All kinds of strange things came to pass in the days of long ago, but
perhaps the strangest of all was that the nurses who cared for little
children were not women, but brooks and rivers. The children and the
brooks ran about together, and the brooks and rivers never said, "It is
time to go to bed," for they liked to play as well as the children, and
perhaps a little better. Sometimes the brooks ran first and the children
followed. Sometimes the children ran first and the brooks followed. Of
course, if any animal came near that would hurt the children, the brook
or river in whose care they were left flowed quickly around them, so
that they stood on an island and were safe from all harm.
Two little boys lived in those days who were sons of the king. When the
children were old enough to run about, the king called the rivers and
brooks to come before him. They came gladly, for they felt sure that
something pleasant would happen, and they waited so quietly that no one
would have thought they were so full of frolic.
"I have called you," said the king, "to give you the care of my two
little sons. They like so well to run about that one nurse will not be
enough to care for them, and of course it will be pleasanter for them to
have many playmates. So I felt that it would be better to ask every
river and every brook to see that they are not hurt or lost."
"We shall have the king's sons for our playmates!" whispered the rivers.
"Nothing so pleasant ever happened to us before."
But the king went on, "If you keep my boys safely and well, and follow
them so closely that they are not lost, then I will give you whatever
gift you wish; but if I find that you have forgotten them one moment and
they are lost or hurt, then you will be punished as no river was ever
punished before."
The rivers and even the most frolicsome little brooks were again quiet
for a moment. Then they all cried together, "O king, we will be good.
There were never better nurses than we will be to your sons."
At first all went well, and the playmates had the merriest times that
could be thought of. Then came a day when the sunshine was very warm,
but the boys ran faster and farther than boys had ever run in the world
before, and even the brooks could not keep up with them. The rivers had
never been weary before, but when this warm day came, one river after
another had some reason for being quiet. One complained, "I have
followed the boys farther than any other river." "Perhaps you have,"
said another, "but I have been up and down and round and round till I
have forgotten how it seems to be quiet." Another declared, "I have run
about long enough, and I shall run no more." A little brook said, "If I
were a great river, perhaps I could run farther," and a great river
replied, "If I were a little brook, of course I could run farther."
So they talked, and the day passed. Night came before they knew it, and
they could not find the boys.
"Where are my sons?" cried the king.
"Indeed, we do not know," answered the brooks and rivers in great fear,
and each one looked at the others.
"You have lost my children," said the king, "and if you do not find
them, you shall be punished. Go and search for them."
"Please help us," the rivers begged of the trees and plants, and
everything that had life began to search for the lost boys. "Perhaps
they are under ground," thought the trees, and they sent their roots
down into the earth. "Perhaps they are in the east," cried one animal,
and he went to the east. "They may be on the mountain," said one plant,
and so it climbed to the very top of the mountain. "They may be in the
village," said another, and so that one crept up close to the homes of
men.
Many years passed. The king was almost broken-hearted, but he knew it
was of no use to search longer, so he called very sadly, "Search no
longer. Let each plant and animal make its home where it is. The little
plant that has crept up the mountain shall live on the mountain top, and
the roots of the trees shall stay under ground. The rivers"--Then the
king stopped, and the rivers trembled. They knew that they would be
punished, but what would the punishment be? The king looked at them. "As
for you, rivers and brooks," he declared, "it was your work to watch my
boys. The plants and trees shall find rest and live happily in their
homes, but you shall ever search for my lost boys, and you shall never
have a home."
So from that day to this the rivers have gone on looking for the lost
children. They never stop, and some of them are so troubled that they
flow first one way and then the other.
HOW THE RAVEN HELPED MEN.
The raven and the eagle were cousins, and they were almost always
friendly, but whenever they talked together about men, they quarreled.
"Men are lazy," declared the eagle. "There is no use in trying to help
them. The more one does for them, the less they do for themselves."
"You fly so high," said the raven, "that you cannot see how hard men
work. I think that we birds, who know so much more than they, ought to
help them."
"They do not work," cried the eagle. "What have they to do, I should
like to know? They walk about on the ground, and their food grows close
by their nests. If they had to fly through the air as we do, and get
their food wherever they could, they might talk about working hard."
"That is just why we ought to help them," replied the raven. "They
cannot mount up into the air as we do. They cannot see anything very
well unless it is near them, and if they had to run and catch their
food, they would surely die of hunger. They are poor, weak creatures,
and there is not a humming-bird that does not know many things that they
never heard of."
"You are a poor, weak bird, if you think you can teach men. When they
feel hunger, they will eat, and they do not know how to do anything
else. Just look at them! They ought to be going to sleep, and they do
not know enough to do even that."
"How can they know that it is night, when they have no sun and no moon
to tell them when it is day and when it is night?"
"They would not go to sleep even if they had two moons," said the eagle;
"and you are no true cousin of mine if you do not let them alone."
So the two birds quarreled. Almost every time they met, they quarreled
about men, and at last, whenever the eagle began to mount into the air,
the raven went near the earth.
Now the eagle had a pretty daughter. She and the raven were good
friends, and they never quarreled about men. One day the pretty daughter
said, "Cousin Raven, are you too weak to fly as high as you used to do?"
"I never was less weak," declared the raven.
"Almost every day you keep on the ground. Can you not mount into the
air?"
"Of course I can," answered the raven.
"There are some strange things in my father's lodge," said the pretty
daughter, "and I do not know what they are. They are not good to eat,
and I do not see what else they are good for. Will you come and see
them?"
"I will go wherever you ask me," declared the raven.
The eagle's lodge was far up on the top of a high mountain, but the two
birds were soon there, and the pretty daughter showed the raven the
strange things. He knew what they were, and he said to himself, "Men
shall have them, and by and by they will be no less wise than the
birds." Then he asked, "Has your father a magic cloak?"
[Illustration]
"Yes," answered the pretty daughter.
"May I put it on?"
"Yes, surely."
When the raven had once put on the magic cloak, he seized the strange
things and put them under it. Then he called, "I will come again soon,
my pretty little cousin, and tell you all about the people on the
earth."
The things under his cloak were strange indeed, for one was the sun, and
one was the moon. There were hundreds of bright stars, and there were
brooks and rivers and waterfalls. Best of all, there was the precious
gift of fire. The raven put the sun high up in the heavens, and fastened
the moon and stars in their places. He let the brooks run down the sides
of the mountains, and he hid the fire away in the rocks.
After a while men found all these precious gifts. They knew when it was
night and when it was day, and they learned how to use fire. They cannot
mount into the air like the eagle, but in some things they are almost as
wise as the birds.
THE STORY OF THE EARTH AND THE SKY.
The sky used to be very close to the earth, and of course the earth had
no sunshine. Trees did not grow, flowers did not blossom, and water was
not clear and bright. The earth did not know that there was any other
way of living, and so she did not complain.
By and by the sky and the earth had a son who was called the Shining
One. When he was small, he had a dream, and he told it to the earth.
"Mother Earth," he said, "I had a dream, and it was that the sky was far
up above us. There was a bright light, and it made you more radiant than
I ever saw you. What could the light have been?"
"I do not know, my Shining One," she answered, "for there is nothing but
the earth and the sky."
After a long, long time, the Shining One was fully grown. Then he said
to the sky, "Father Sky, will you not go higher up, that there may be
light and warmth on the earth?"
"There is no 'higher up,'" declared the sky. "There is only just here."
Then the Shining One raised the sky till he rested on the mountain
peaks.
"Oh! oh!" cried the sky. "They hurt. The peaks are sharp and rough. You
are an unkind, cruel son."
"In my dreams you were still higher up," replied the Shining One, and he
raised the sky still higher.
"Oh! oh!" complained the sky, "I can hardly see the peaks. I will stay
on the rough rocks."
"You were far above the rocks in my dream," replied the Shining One.
Then when the sky was raised far above the earth and no longer touched
even the peaks, a great change came over the earth. She, too, had
thought the Shining One unkind, and she had said, "Shining One, it was
only a dream. Why should you change the sky and the earth? Why not let
them stay as they were before you had the dream?"
"O Mother Earth," he said, "I wish you could see the radiant change that
has come to pass. The air is full of light and warmth and fragrance. You
yourself are more beautiful than you were even in my dream. Listen and
hear the song of the birds. See the flowers blossoming in every field,
and even covering the rough peaks of the mountains. Should you be glad
if I had let all things stay as they were? Was I unkind to make you so
much more lovely than you were?"
Before the earth could answer, the sky began to complain. "You have
spread over earth a new cloak of green, and of course she is beautiful
with all her flowers and birds, but here am I, raised far above the
mountain peaks. I have no cloak, nor have I flowers and birds. Shining
One, give me a cloak."
"That will I do, and most gladly," replied the Shining One, and he
spread a soft cloak of dark blue over the sky, and in it many a star
sparkled and twinkled.
"That is very well in the night," said the heavens, "but it is not good
in the daytime, it is too gloomy. Give me another cloak for the day."
Then the Shining One spread a light blue cloak over the sky for the
daytime, and at last the sky was as beautiful as the earth.
Now both sky and earth were contented. "I did not know that the earth
was so radiant," said the sky. "I did not know that the sky was so
beautiful," said the earth. "I will send a message to tell her how
lovely she is," thought the sky, and he dropped down a gentle little
rain.
"I, too, will send a message," thought the earth, "and the clouds shall
carry it for me." That is why there is often a light cloud rising from
the earth in the morning. It is carrying a good-morning message from the
beautiful earth to the sky.
HOW SUMMER CAME TO THE EARTH.
PART I.
There was once a boy on the earth who was old enough to have a bow and
arrows, but who had never seen a summer. He had no idea how it would
look to have leaves on the trees, for he had never seen any such things.
As for the songs of birds, he may have heard them in his dreams, but he
never heard them when he was not asleep. If any one had asked, "Do you
not like to walk on the soft grass?" he would have answered, "What is
grass? I never saw any."
The reason why this boy had never heard of summer was because there had
never been a summer on the earth. Far to the north the earth was covered
with thick ice, and even farther south, where the boy lived, the ground
was rarely free from ice and snow.
The boy's father was called the fisher. He taught his little son to
hunt, and made him a bow like his own, only smaller. The boy was proud
of his arrows, and was always happy when he went out to hunt. He had
often shot a lynx, and once or twice he had shot a wolverine. Sometimes
it chanced that he found nothing to shoot, and then he was not happy,
for he realized how cold it was. His fingers ached, and his feet ached,
and the end of his nose ached. "Oh, if I could only carry the wigwam
fire about with me!" he cried, for he had no idea of any other warmth
than that which came from the fire.
Now it chanced that Adjidaumo, the squirrel, was on a tree over the
boy's head, and he heard this cry. He dropped a piece of ice upon the
end of the boy's little red nose, and the boy bent his bow. Then he
realized who it was, and he cried, "O Adjidaumo, you are warm. You have
no fingers to ache with the cold. I am warm just twice a day, once in
the morning and once at night."
"Boys do not know much," replied Adjidaumo, dancing lightly on the
topmost bough. "The end of _my_ nose is warm, and I have no fingers like
yours to be cold, but if I had chanced to have any, I have an idea that
would have kept them warm."
"What is an idea?" asked the boy.
"An idea is something that is better than a fire," replied the squirrel,
"for you can carry an idea about with you, and you have to leave the
fire at home. A lynx has an idea sometimes, and a wolverine has one
sometimes, but a squirrel has one twice as often as a boy."
The poor boy was too cold to be angry, and he begged, "Adjidaumo, if
there is any way for me to keep warm, will you not tell me what it is? A
lynx would be more kind to me than you are, and I am sure a wolverine
would tell me."
Adjidaumo had rarely been cold, but when he realized how cold the boy
was, he was sorry for him, and he said, "All you have to do is to go
home and cry. When your father says, 'Why do you cry?' answer nothing
but 'Boo-hoo, boo-hoo, boo-hoo! Get me summer, get me summer!'"
Now this boy rarely cried, but his hands and feet were so very cold that
he thought he would do as the squirrel had told him, and he started for
home. As soon as he reached the wigwam, he threw himself down upon the
ground and cried. He cried so hard that his tears made a river that ran
out of the wigwam door. It was a frozen river, of course, but when the
fisher saw it, he knew it was made of the tears of his little son. "What
are you crying for?" he asked, but all the boy answered was "Boo-hoo,
boo-hoo! Get me summer, father, get me summer!"
"Summer," repeated the fisher thoughtfully. "It is not easy to get
summer, but I will find it if I can."
PART II.
The fisher made a great feast for the animals that he thought could help
him to find summer. The otter, the lynx, the badger, and the wolverine
came. After they had eaten, the hunter told them what he wished to do,
and they all set out to find summer.
For many days they traveled, and at last they came to a high mountain
upon whose summit the sky seemed to rest.
"That is where summer is," declared the badger. "All we have to do is to
climb to the summit and take it from the heavens." So they all climbed
and climbed, till it seemed as if they would never reach the top. After
a long time they were on the very highest summit, but the heavens were
above them.
"We cannot reach it," said the fisher.
"Let us try," said the lynx.
"I will try first," said the otter. So the otter sprang up with all his
might, but he could not touch the heavens. He rolled down the side of
the mountain, and then he ran home. The badger tried, and the beaver
tried, and the lynx tried, but not one of them could leap far enough to
reach the heavens. "Now I will try," said the wolverine. "I am not
going to climb away up here for nothing." The fisher watched most
eagerly, for he thought, "There's my boy at home crying, and what shall
I do if I cannot get the summer for him?"
The wolverine leaped farther than any wolverine ever leaped before, and
he went where no animal on the earth had ever been before, for he went
straight through the floor of the heavens. Of course the fisher
followed, and there they were in a more lovely place than any one on the
earth had ever dreamed of, for they were in the land of summer, and
summer had never come to the earth.
The soft, warm air went down through the hole in the floor and spread
over the earth. Birds flew down, singing happily as they flew, and all
kinds of flowers that are on the earth to-day made their way through the
hole as fast as they could, for they knew all about the little boy in
the wigwam who was wishing that summer would come.
Now there were people in the heavens, and when they found that summer
was going down to the earth through the hole in the floor, they cried
out to the Great Spirit, "Take summer away from him, take it away from
him!" and they shot their arrows at the fisher and the wolverine. The
wolverine dropped through the hole, but the fisher was not quick enough,
and he could not get away.
The Great Spirit said, "The heavens have the summer all the year, but
the earth shall have summer half the year. I shall close the hole in the
floor so the fisher cannot go down to earth again, but I will make him
into a fish and give him a place in the heavens."
When the Indians look up at the sky, they see a fish in the stars, and
they say, "That is the good fisher who gave us the beautiful summer."
THE STORY OF THE FIRST SNOWDROPS.
An old man sat alone in his house. It Was full of shadows; it was dark
and gloomy. The old man cared nothing for the shadows or the darkness,
for he was thinking of all the mighty deeds that he had done. "There is
no one else in the world," he muttered, "who has done such deeds as I,"
and he counted them over aloud. A sound outside of the house interrupted
him. "What can it be?" he said to himself. "How dares anything interrupt
me? I have told all things to be still. It sounds like the rippling of
waters, and I have told the waters to be quiet in their beds. There it
is again. It is like the singing of birds, and I have sent the birds far
away to the south."
Some one opened the door and came in. It was a youth with sunny curls
and rosy face.
"Who said you might come in?" muttered the old man.
"Did not you?" asked the youth, with a merry little laugh. "I am really
afraid that I came without asking. You see, every one is glad to see me
and"--
"I am not," interrupted the old man.
"I have heard rumors of your great deeds," said the youth, "and I came
to see whether the tales are true."
"The deeds are more true than the tales," muttered the old man, "for the
tales are never great enough. No one can count the wonderful things I
have done."
"And what are they?" asked the young man gravely, but with a merry
little twinkle in his eyes that would have made one think of the waves
sparkling in the sunlight. "Let us see whether you or I can tell the
greatest tale."
"I can breathe upon a river and turn it to ice," said the old man.
"I can breathe upon the ice and turn it to a river," said the youth.
"I can say to water, 'Stand still,' and it will not dare to stir."
"I can say, 'Stand no longer,' and it will go running and chattering
down the mountain side."
"I shake my white head," said the old man, "and snow covers the earth."
"I shake my curls," said the young man, "and the air sparkles with
sunshine. In a moment the snow is gone."
"I say to the birds, 'Sing no more. Leave me,' and they spread their
wings and fly far away."
"I say, 'Little birds, come back,' and in a moment they are back again
and singing their sweetest songs to me."
"No one can count the leaves," said the old man, "but whether I shake
the trees with my icy touch, or whether I turn my cold breath upon them,
they fall to the ground with fear and trembling. Are there any rumors of
my deeds as great as that?"
The young man answered gravely, but with a laugh in his voice, "I never
saw any leaves falling to the ground, for when I appear, they are all
fair and green and trembling with the gladness of my coming."
So the two talked all night long. As morning came near, the old man
appeared weary, but the youth grew merrier. The sunlight brightened, and
the youth turned to the open door. The trees were full of birds, and
when they saw him, they sang, "O beautiful spring! glad are we to look
again upon your face."
"My own dear birds!" cried spring. He turned to say good-by, but the old
man was gone, and where he had stood were only snowflakes. But were they
snowflakes? He looked again. They were little white snowdrops, the first
flowers of spring, the only flowers that can remember the winter.
WHY THE FACE OF THE MOON IS WHITE.
An Indian chief had a fair young daughter. One day the wind came to him
and said, "Great chief, I love your daughter, and she loves me. Will you
give her to me to be my wife?"
"No," answered the chief.
The next day the maiden herself went to the chief and said, "Father, I
love the wind. Will you let me go with him to his lodge and be his
wife?"
"No," declared the chief, "I will not. When the wind was a child, he
often came into my wigwam through some tiny hole, and try as I would to
make my fire, he always put it out. He knows neither how to fight nor
how to hunt, and you shall not be his wife."
Then the chief hid his daughter in a thick grove of dark spruces. "The
wind might see her in a pine," he thought, "but he will never catch
sight of her in a grove of spruces."
Now the wind could make himself invisible if he chose, and all the time
that the chief was talking, the wind was close beside him listening to
every word. When the next night came, the wind ran round and round the
grove of spruces until he discovered a tiny place where he could get in.
When he came out, the maiden was with him. He did not dare to go near
the Indians to live, for he was afraid that the chief would come and
take her away from him; so he built a new lodge far to the north-ward.
To that lodge he carried the maiden, and she became his wife.
Neither the wind nor his young wife had thought that the chief could
ever find them, but he searched and searched, and at last he came to
their lodge. The wind hid his wife and made himself invisible, but the
father struck all about with his great war-club, and a hard blow fell
upon the head of the wind. He knew no more of what the chief was doing.
When he came to himself, he discovered that his wife was gone, and he
set out in search of her. He roamed about wildly in the forest, and at
last he saw her in a canoe with her father on the Big-Sea-Water. "Come
with me," he called. She became as white as snow, but she could not see
the wind, because after the blow upon his head he had forgotten how to
make himself visible.
He was so angry with the chief that he blew with all his might upon the
tiny canoe. "Let it tip over," he thought. "I can carry my wife safely
to land." The canoe did tip over, and both the chief and his daughter
fell into the water. "Come, dear wife," cried the wind. "Here is my
hand." He did not remember that he was invisible, and that she could not
see his hand. That is why she fell down, down, through the deep water to
the bottom of the lake. The chief, too, lost his life, for the wind did
not try to help him.
When the wind discovered that his wife was gone from him, he became
almost wild with sorrow. "The wind never blew so sadly before," said the
people in the wigwams.
[Illustration: "HERE IS MY HAND"]
The Great Spirit was sorry that the chief's daughter had fallen into the
water and lost her life, and the next night he bore her up to the stars
and gave her a home in the moon. There she lives again, but her face is
white, as it was when she fell from the canoe. On moonlight nights she
always looks down upon the earth, searching for the wind, for she does
not know that he is invisible. The wind does not know that far away in
the moon is the white face of his lost wife, and so he roams through the
forest and wanders about the rocks and the mountains, but never thinks
of looking up to the moon.
WHY ALL MEN LOVE THE MOON.
Thunder and Lightning were going to give a feast. It was to be a most
delightful banquet, for all the good things that could be imagined were
to be brought from every corner of the world.
For many days before the feast these good things were coming. The birds
flew up with what they could find in the cold air of the north and the
warm air of the south. The fishes came from the east and from the west
with what they could find in the cold water or in the warm water. As for
what grew on the earth, there was no end to the luxuries that came every
morning and every evening. Squirrels brought nuts, crows brought corn,
the ants brought sweet things of many kinds. Food that was rich and rare
came from India and Japan. The butterflies and the humming-birds were to
arrange the flowers, the peacocks and the orioles promised to help make
the place beautiful, and the waves and the brooks agreed to make their
most charming music.
Thunder and Lightning were talking about whom to invite, and they
questioned whether to ask the sun, the moon, and the wind. These three
were children of the star mother.
"The star mother has been so kind to us that I suppose we ought to
invite her children," said Thunder.
"The moon is charming, but the sun and the wind are rough and wild. If I
were the star mother, I would keep them in a corner all day, and they
should stay there all night, too, if they did not promise to be gentle,"
said Lightning.
"We must invite them," replied Thunder, with what sounded much like a
little growl, "but it would be delightful if they would agree to stay
away, all but the moon."
That is why the sun and wind were invited as well as the moon. When the
invitation came, the two brothers said to their little sister, "You are
too small to go to a feast, but perhaps they asked you because they were
going to ask us."
"Star mother, I think I will stay at home," said the moon tearfully.
"No, little moon," replied the star mother; "go to the feast with the
other children."
So the three children went to the feast, and the star mother waited for
them to come home.
When they came, she asked, "What did you bring for me?" The hands of the
sun were full of good things, but he said, "I brought only what I am
going to eat myself," and he sat down in a corner with his back to the
others, and went on eating.
"Did you bring anything for me?" she asked the wind.
"I brought some good things halfway home, and then I was weary of
carrying them," answered the wind, "so I have eaten them."
"I should never have imagined that you would be so selfish," said the
star mother sadly, and she asked the little moon, "My daughter, did you
bring anything for me?"
"Yes, star mother," answered the little moon, and she gave her mother
more good things than any one had ever seen in their home before. There
were rare luxuries that the fishes and the birds had brought. There were
rich colors that the peacocks and orioles had promised, and there was
even some of the charming music that the waves and brooks had agreed to
make.
The star mother praised the little maiden. Then she looked at her two
boys. She was sad, for she knew that they must be punished for their
selfishness. "Sun," said she, "you wish to turn your back on all, and
your punishment shall be that when the warm days of summer have come,
all men will turn their backs on you." To the wind she said, "Wind, you
thought of no one but yourself. When the storm is coming and you are
afraid and fly before it, no one shall think of you. All men shall close
their doors against you and fasten them." Then to her little daughter
she said, "My little moon, you were unselfish and thoughtful. You shall
always be bright and beautiful, and men shall love you and praise you
whenever they look upon your gentle, kindly face."
This is why men hide from the sun and the wind, but never from the moon.
WHY THERE IS A HARE IN THE MOON.
Many strange things happened long ago, and one of them was that a hare,
a monkey, and a fox agreed to live together. They talked about their
plan a long time. Then the hare said, "I promise to help the monkey and
the fox." The monkey declared, "I promise to help the fox and the hare."
The fox said, "I promise to help the hare and the monkey." They shook
hands, or rather shook paws. There was something else to which they
agreed, and that was that they would kill no living creature.
The manito was much pleased when he heard of this plan, but he said to
himself, "I should like to make sure that what I have heard is true, and
that they are really gentle and kind to others as well as to themselves.
I will go to the forest and see how they behave toward strangers."
The manito appeared before the three animals, but they thought he was a
hunter. "May I come into your lodge and rest?" he asked. "I am very
weary."
All three came toward him and gave him a welcome. "Come into our lodge,"
they said. "We have agreed to help one another, so we will help one
another to help you."
"I have been hungry all day," said the manito, "but I should rather have
such a welcome than food."
"But if you are hungry, you must have food," declared the three animals.
"If there were anything in our lodge that you would care to eat, you
might have part of it or all of it, but there is nothing here that you
would like."
Then said the monkey, "I have a plan. I will go out into the forest and
find you some food."
When the monkey came back, he said, "I found a tree with some fruit on
it. I climbed it and shook it, and here is the fruit. There was only a
little of it, for fruit was scarce."
"Will you not eat part of it yourself?" asked the manito.
"No," answered the monkey. "I had rather see you eat it, for I think you
are more hungry than I."
The manito wished to know whether the fox and the hare would behave as
unselfishly toward him, and he said, "My good friends, the fruit was
indeed welcome, but I am still hungry."
Then the fox said, "I will go out into the forest and see what I can
find for you."
When the fox came back, he said, "I shook the trees, but no more fruit
fell. I could not climb the trees, for my paws are not made for
climbing, but I searched on the ground, and at last I found some hominy
that a traveler had left, and I have brought you that."
The manito had soon eaten the hominy. He wished to know whether the hare
would behave as kindly as the others, and before long he said, "My good
friends, the hominy was indeed welcome, but I am still hungry."
Then the hare said, "I will gladly go out into the forest and search for
food." He was gone a long time, but when he came back, he brought no
food.
"I am very hungry," said the manito.
"Stranger," said the hare, "if you will build a fire beside the rock, I
can give you some food."
The manito built a fire, and the hare said, "Now I will spring from the
top of the rock upon the fire. I have heard that men eat flesh, that is
taken from the fire, and I will give you my own."
The hare sprang from the rock, but the manito caught him in his hands
before the flame could touch him, and said, "Dear, unselfish little
hare, the monkey and the fox have welcomed me and searched the forest
through to find me food, but you have done more, for you have given me
yourself. I will take the gift, little hare, and I will carry you in my
arms up to the moon, so that every one on the earth may see you and hear
the tale of your kindness and unselfishness."
[Illustration]
The Indians can see a hare in the moon, and this is the story that they
tell their children about it.
THE CHILDREN IN THE MOON.
They had no idea where they came from. All they knew was that they lived
on the hill, and that the old man of the hill called them Jack and Jill.
They had plenty of berries to eat, and when night came, they had soft
beds of fir to sleep on. There were all kinds of animals on the hill,
and they were friendly to the two children. They could have had a most
delightful time playing all day long if it had not been for having to
carry water.
Every morning, just as soon as the first rays of the sun could be seen
from their home, they heard the voice of the old man of the hill
calling, "Jack! Jill! Take your pail and get some water." Whenever they
were having an especially pleasant game with some of the animals, they
heard the same call, "Take your pail and get some water." It is no
wonder that Jack awoke one night when no one called and said, "Jill, did
he say we must get some water?" "I suppose so," answered Jill sleepily,
and they went out with the pail.
The moon was shining down through the trees, and they imagined that she
was nearer than ever before. The forest was not half so lonely with her
gentle face looking down upon them. Soon they felt happier than at
first, and they played little games together, running from tree to tree.
"We have spilled half the water," said Jill.
"There's plenty left," said Jack, "if half _is_ spilled."
"Do you suppose there are any children who play games whenever they like
and do not have to carry water?"
"Plenty of them," declared Jack.
"Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To get a pail of water,"
sang a voice so clear that it seemed close at hand, and so soft that it
seemed far away.
Jack started, fell, and rolled down the hillside, and Jill came tumbling
after. As for the water, what was left was spilled before Jack had
rolled over once; and before he had rolled over twice, the same voice
sang,--
"Jack fell down
And broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after."
"It is about us," cried Jill.
"I have not broken any crown," said Jack.
"It is the crown of your head," declared Jill.
"Oh!" said Jack; "but where's the water?"
"It has gone tumbling down the hill," answered the same voice.
"How can water go tumbling?" cried Jill. "_We_ tumbled."
"Water tumbles too," replied the voice, "especially when it is frozen."
"Oh!" said Jack.
"Oh!" said Jill.
"The stream is frozen," called the voice.
"What stream?" asked the children together.
"The stream that goes down the hill," answered the voice. "Did you not
know that you were bringing water to keep the stream full?"
"No, indeed," said the children.
"The old man of the hill is only a rock, and what you thought his voice
was only the water flowing around it."
[Illustration]
"Oh!" cried Jack.
"Oh!" cried Jill.
"The stream is frozen," said the voice, "and the earth has a cloak of
snow and ice."
"Who are you?" asked Jill shyly.
"Do you really not know? What a strange child you are! I am the moon, of
course. Very pleasant people live with me, and I have come to invite you
both to go home with me. Will you come?"
The children looked up through the trees, and there was the gentle face
of the moon, looking more gentle and kind than ever. "Come," said she,
and they went very willingly. They have lived in the moon many years,
but they never again carried a pail of water for a stream. "That is the
work of the clouds and the sun," says the moon.
WHY THERE IS A MAN IN THE MOON.
"Goodman," said the goodwife, "you must go out into the forest and
gather sticks for the fire. To-morrow will be Sunday, and we have no
wood to burn."
"Yes, goodwife," answered the goodman, "I will go to the forest."
He did go to the forest, but he sat on a mossy rock and fished till it
was dark, and so he brought home no wood. "The goodwife shall not know
it," he thought. "I will go to the forest to-morrow morning and gather
sticks."
When morning came, he crept softly out of the house when it was hardly
light, and went to the forest. Soon he had as many sticks as he could
carry, and he was starting for home when a voice called sternly, "Put
those sticks down." He looked to the right, to the left, before him,
behind him, and over his head. There was no one to be seen.
"Put those sticks down," said the voice again.
"Please, I do not dare to put them down," replied the goodman, trembling
with fear. "They are to burn, and my wife cannot cook the dinner without
them."
"You will have no dinner to-day," said the voice.
"The goodwife will not know that I did not gather them last night, and
she will let me have some dinner. I am almost sure she will," the
goodman replied.
"You must not gather sticks to-day," said the voice more sternly than
ever. "It is Sunday. Put them down."
"Indeed, Mr. Voice, I dare not," whispered the goodman; and afar off he
thought he heard his wife calling, "Goodman, where are you? There is no
wood to burn."
"Will you put them down, or will you carry them forever?" cried the
voice angrily.
"Truly, I cannot put them down, for I dare not go home without them,"
answered the goodman, shaking with fear from head to foot. "The goodwife
would not like it."
"Then carry them forever," said the voice. "You care not for Sunday, and
you shall never have another Sunday."
The goodman could not tell how it came about, but he felt himself being
lifted, up, up, up, sticks and all, till he was in the moon.
"Here you shall stay," said the voice sternly. "You will not keep
Sunday, and here you need not. This is the moon, and so it is always the
moon's day, or Monday, and Monday it shall be with you always. Whenever
any one looks up at the moon, he will say, 'See the man with the sticks
on his back. He was taken to the moon because he gathered wood on
Sunday.'"
"Oh dear, oh dear," cried the goodman, "what will the goodwife say?"
THE TWIN STARS.
In front of the little house was a pine-tree, and every night at the
time when the children went to bed, a bright star appeared over the top
of the tree and looked in at the window. The children were brother and
sister. They were twins, and so they always had each other to play with.
"Now go to sleep," the mother would say when she had kissed them
good-night, but it was hard to go to sleep when such a beautiful,
radiant thing was shining in at the window of the little house.
"What do you suppose is in the star?" asked the sister.
"I think there are daisies and honey and violets and butterflies and
bluebirds," answered the brother.
"And I think there are roses and robins and berries and humming-birds,"
said the sister.
"There must be trees and grass too, and I am sure there are pearls and
diamonds."
"I can almost see them now," declared the sister. "I wish we could
really see them. To-morrow let us go and find the star."
When morning came, the star was gone, but they said, "It was just behind
the pine-tree, and so it must be on the blue mountain." The blue
mountain was a long way off, but it looked near, and the twins thought
they could walk to it in an hour. All day long they walked. They went
through the lonely woods, they crossed brooks, they climbed hills, and
still they could not find the radiant star that had looked in at their
window. The hour had come when their mother always put them to bed and
kissed them and said good-night, but now they had no mother, no
good-night kiss, and no bed. They were tired and sleepy. They heard
strange sounds in the forest, and they were frightened. "I am so tired,"
the sister whispered. "I am afraid a bear will come. I wish we could see
the star."
The sky had grown dark, and a star could be seen here and there, but it
was not their star. They went on till they could go no farther. "We will
lie down on the grass," said the brother, "and cover ourselves up with
leaves, and go to sleep."
Tired as they were, they did not have time to go to sleep before they
heard a bear calling "Ugh! Ugh!" in the woods. They sprang up and ran
out of the woods, and just before they came to the bottom of the hill,
they saw right in front of them a beautiful little lake. They were not
frightened any more, for there in the water was something radiant and
shining. "It is our own star," said they, "and it has come down to us."
They never thought of looking up into the sky over their heads. It was
enough for them that the star was in the water and so near them. But was
it calling them? They thought so. "Come," cried the brother, "take my
hand, and we will go to the star." Then the spirit of the skies lifted
them up gently and carried them away on a beautiful cloud.
The father and mother sat alone in the little house one evening, looking
sadly out of the window through which the twins had looked. "There is
the star that they loved," the mother said. "I have often listened to
them while they talked of it. It is rising over the pine-tree in front
of the house." They sat and watched the star. It was brighter and more
radiant than ever, and in it the father and mother saw the faces of
their lost children. "Oh, take us too, good spirit of the skies!" they
cried. The spirit heard them, and when the next evening came, close
beside the star there was another star. In that were the father and
mother, and at last they and the children were all very happy to be
together again.
THE LANTERN AND THE FAN.
In a Japanese village there once lived a man who had two sons. When the
sons were grown up, each brought home a wife from another village a long
distance away. The father was greatly pleased with his two
daughters-in-law, and for many months they all lived very happily
together.
At last the two young wives asked to go home to visit their friends.
Among the Japanese the sons and the sons' wives must always obey the
father, so the two wives said, "Father-in-law, it is a long, long time
since we have seen our friends. May we go to our old home and visit
them?" The father-in-law answered, "No." After many months they asked
again, and again he answered, "No." Once more they asked. The
father-in-law thought, "They care nothing for me, or they would not wish
to leave me, but I have a plan, and I can soon know whether they love
their father-in-law or not." Then he said to the older of the two wives,
"You may go if you wish, but you must never come back unless you bring
me fire wrapped in paper." To the younger he said, "You may go if you
wish, but you must never come back unless you bring me wind wrapped in
paper." The father-in-law thought, "Now I shall find out. If they care
for me, they will search the country through till they find paper that
will hold fire and wind."
The two young wives were so glad to visit their old friends that for
almost a month they forgot all about the gifts that they were to carry
to their father-in-law. At last, when it was time to go home, they were
greatly troubled about what they must carry with them, and they asked a
wise man where to find the strange things. "Paper that will hold fire
and wind!" he cried. "There is no such paper in Japan." The two women
asked one wise man after another, and every one declared, "There is no
such paper in Japan." What should they do? They feared they would never
see their home again. They were so sad that they left their friends and
wandered a long distance into the forest. Great tears fell from their
eyes.
"I do not let people cry in my woods," said a voice. "My trees do not
grow well in salt water."
The poor wives were so sorrowful that they forgot to be afraid, and the
older one said, "Can we help crying? Unless I can carry to my
father-in-law fire wrapped in paper, I can never go home." "And I,"
wailed the younger, "unless I can carry wind wrapped in paper, I can
never go home. None of the wise men ever heard of such things. What
shall we do?"
"It is easy enough to wrap fire in paper," answered the voice. "Here is
a piece of paper. Now watch." They watched, and the strangest thing in
all the world happened right before their eyes. There was no one to be
seen, but a piece of paper appeared on the ground and folded itself into
a Japanese lantern. "Now put a candle inside," said the voice, "and you
have paper holding fire. What more could you ask?"
Then the older woman was happy, but the younger was still sad. She saw
now that fire could be carried in paper, but surely no one could carry
wind. "O dear voice," she cried, "can any one carry wind in paper?"
"That is much easier than to carry fire," replied the voice, "for wind
does not burn holes. Watch."
They watched eagerly. Another piece of paper came all by itself and lay
on the ground between them. There was a picture on it of a tree covered
with white blossoms. Two women stood under the tree, gathering the
blossoms.
"The two women are yourselves," said the voice, "and the blossoms are
the gifts that the father-in-law will give you when you go home."
"But I cannot go home," the younger wailed, "for I cannot carry wind
wrapped in paper."
"Here is the paper, and there is always plenty of wind. Why not take
them?"
"Indeed, I do not know how," the younger woman answered sorrowfully.
"This way, of course," said the voice. Some long, light twigs flew to
the paper. It folded itself, over, under, together. It opened and
closed, and it waved itself before the tearful face of the younger
woman. "Does not the wind come to your face?" asked the voice, "and is
it not the fan that has brought it? The lantern carries fire wrapped in
paper, and the fan carries wind wrapped in paper."
Then, indeed, the two young women were happy, and when they came to the
home of their father-in-law, he was as glad as they. He gave them
beautiful gifts of gold and silver, and he said, "No one ever had such
marvels before as the lantern and the fan, but in my home there are two
more precious things than these, and they are my two dear daughters."
VOCABULARY OF THE BOOK OF NATURE MYTHS.
NOTE.--This vocabulary is supplementary to that of THE HIAWATHA PRIMER.
Nouns and verbs which are inflected regularly are entered under but one
form.
_Pages 1-4_
first
humming-bird
ago
know
flames
last
people
_Pages 4-7_
again
fled
_Pages 7-9_
grew
_Pages 10-12_
butterflies
stones
some
would
men
could
beauty
life
_Pages 13-15_
woodpecker
man
cake
put
bake
large
small
_Pages 15-19_
magician
fever
breath
shot
fight
ever
wound
head
crest
another
blood
_Pages 19-23_
serpent
hissed
cat
shut
quick
always
fall
_Pages 23-28_
swallow
tail
forked
animals
year
meet
mosquito
whose
tore
tongue
_Pages 28-31_
hares
snowflakes
feet
firebrand
_Pages 31-34_
magpie
time
home
warm
brought
merrily
sorry
eggs
busy
taking
care
well
_Pages 34-36_
raven
thief
happened
wood-worm
only
himself
pieces
_Pages 36-40_
more
gone
get
let
any
wolf
pond
near
bat
rain
quickly
_Pages 40, 41_
catch
caught
tried
curled
throw
_Pages 41, 42_
fast
hand
soon
_Pages 43-46_
quail
snipe
never
crept
carrying
pulled
bill
legs
mole
_Pages 47-49_
sheds
grandfather
marsh
drink
drank
burst
done
off
_Pages 50-52_
dove
manito
brave
crying
Hoots
too
known
most
_Pages 52-56_
parrot
repeats
truth
ox
owner
yes
villagers
punish
next
think
jar
even
storm
thunder
mocking-bird
replied
_Pages 56-59_
cunning
baby
voices
owned
own
mock
_Pages 60-64_
fox
sheep
cows
fields
growl
should
Mr.
eaten
cream
_Pages 64-67_
girl
whom
treated
sister
happy
please
covered
really
_Pages 68-70_
troubles
lies
remember
dies
lip
split
_Pages 70-72_
peetweet
flies
eagerly
lakes
hollows
thirsty
_Pages 72-75_
short
fish
such
easy
ice
frozen
hole
worse
slowly
angrily
wish
_Pages 76-78_
wren
king
choose
which
wise
than
eagle
wisest
_Pages 79-82_
often
does
wicked
strange
knife
sharpen
harm
_Pages 83-86_
grasshopper
country
Tithonus
goddess
Aurora
begged
speak
roamed
fairest
immortal
_Pages 86-89_
oriole
power
ruler
master
yield
clouds
lightning
may
hornet
_Pages 89-93_
peacock
Juno
queen
world
played
tricks
Argus
hundred
Mercury
belonged
_Pages 93-95_
bees
tribes
while
honey
_Pages 96-98_
rich
poor
sowed
ground
seed
mine
_Pages 98-102_
ants
full
almost
house
sense
smell
pearl
lost
dire
named
bag
box
bagged
_Pages 103-106_
face
after
top
gaze
side
far-away
_Pages 107-110_
diamonds
chief
enemies
stolen
search
mourned
wife
Moneta
mother
tears
indeed
_Pages 111-114_
Runoia
shyly
true
sweet
kinds
harp
touched
strings
wailing
_Pages 114-117_
emeralds
vase
precious
air
India
roll
waves
deepest
_Pages 118-122_
flown
berries
broken
might
spring
willow
spruce
juniper
_Pages 122-125_
aspen
guides
swarm
reason
despise
both
anywhere
places
_Pages 125-128_
heather
plants
contented
violet
fragrance
daisy
chose
_Pages 128-132_
flax
sight
hall
sparkling
gift
spin
weave
linen
Holda
_Pages 133-135_
cranberries
meadow
cranberry
woods
hominy
_Pages 135-138_
salt
Frothi
millstones
grind
gate
rest
weary
ship
else
bottom
_Pages 138-141_
crane
hold
bitterly
witch
obey
surely
taken
_Pages 142-145_
Turtle
fierce
dare
ready
sure
shields
breast
arms
just
declared
_Pages 145-150_
crocodile
wide
mouth
kingdom
calm
swim
suddenly
dragged
open
anything
carried
sword
able
_Pages 150-154_
Japan
picture
changing
dragon
island
mean
used
tell
moment
_Pages 155-159_
pass
perhaps
brooks
better
followed
course
hurt
left
enough
felt
pleasant
quiet
playmates
forgotten
complained
_Pages 160-164_
cousins
quarreled
less
hard
ought
mount
hunger
weak
pretty
daughter
_Pages 165-168_
dream
radiant
raised
peaks
rough
unkind
stay
spread
message
dropped
_Pages 169-172_
idea
rarely
lynx
twice
wolverine
chanced
realized
fingers
arched
end
nose
boo-hoo
_Pages 172-175_
otter
badger
summit
climb
reach
floor
_Pages 175-179_
snowdrop
deeds
muttered
counted
outside
interrupted
rumors
whether
tales
gravely
turn
shake
appear
_Pages 179-184_
tiny
neither
grove
invisible
discovered
became
blow
fell
deep
try
fallen
_Pages 184-188_
delightful
imagined
corner
luxuries
arrange
promised
agreed
charming
suppose
stay
invite
invitation
bring
_Pages 188-193_
monkey
plan
shook
rather
paws
something
part
behave
toward
fruit
welcome
hungry
_Pages 193-197_
hill
Jack
Jill
plenty
pail
especially
game
spilled
tumbling
crown
_Pages 197-200_
gather
sticks
to-morrow
Sunday
dinner
burn
sternly
cook
to-day
Monday
_Pages 200-204_
front
window
twins
kissed
tired
way
hour
frightened
grown
ourselves
_Pages 204-209_
fan
lantern
distance
law
months
wives
since
visit
unless
wrapped
paper
folded
under
End of Project Gutenberg's The Book of Nature Myths, by Florence Holbrook