JHE STORIES 
 
 MOTHER NATURE TOLD HER 
 CHILDREN 
 
 JANE ANDREWS 
 
 AUTHOR OF "SEVEN LITTLE SISTERS," ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 BOSTON 1891 
 LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 
 
 10 MILK STREET NEXT " THE OLD SOUTH MEETING-HOUSE " 
 
 NEW YORK CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 
 
 718 AND 720 BROADWAY
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1888, BY LEE AND SHBPARD. 
 
 All rights reservtd. 
 
 THE STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD HER CHILDREN.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE AMBER BEADS 5 
 
 THE NEW LIFE 15 
 
 THE TALK OF THE TREES THAT STAND IN THE VILLAGE 
 
 STREET 25 
 
 How THE INDIAN CORN GROWS 35 
 
 WATER-LILIES 43 
 
 THE CARRYING TRADE 49 
 
 SEA-LIFE 61 
 
 WHAT THE FROST GIANTS DID TO NANNIE'S RUN . . 85 
 How QUERCUS ALBA WENT TO EXPLORE THE UNDER- 
 WORLD, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 99 
 
 TREASURE-BOXES 115 
 
 A PEEP INTO ONE OF GOD'S STOREHOUSES 125 
 
 THE HIDDEN LIGHT 139 
 
 SIXTY-TWO LITTLE TADPOLES 145 
 
 GOLDEN-ROD AND ASTERS 155
 
 THE STORY OF THE AMBER BEADS
 
 THE STORIES MOTHER NATURE 
 TOLD HER CHILDREN 
 
 THE STORY OF THE AMBER BEADS 
 
 Do you know Mother Nature ? She it is to 
 whom God has given the care of the earth, and all 
 that grows in or upon it, just as he has given to 
 your mother the care of her family of boys and 
 girls. 
 
 You may think that Mother Nature, like the 
 famous "old woman who lived in the shoe," has 
 so many children that she doesn't know what to 
 do. But you will know better when you become 
 acquainted with her, and learn how strong she is, 
 and how active ; how she can really be in fifty 
 places at once, taking care of a sick tree, or a 
 baby flower just born ; and, at the same time, 
 building underground palaces, guiding the steps of
 
 8 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 little travellers setting out on long journeys, and 
 sweeping, dusting, and arranging her great house, 
 the earth. And all the while, in the midst of 
 her patient and never-ending work, she will tell 
 us the most charming and marvellous stories of 
 ages ago when she was young, or of the treasures 
 that lie hidden in the most distant and secret 
 closets of her palace; just such stories as you 
 all like so well to hear your mother tell when you 
 gather round her in the twilight. 
 
 A few of these stories which she has told to me, 
 I am about to tell you, beginning with this one. 
 
 I know a little Scotch girl : she lives among the 
 Highlands. Her home is hardly more than a hut ; 
 her food, broth and bread. Her father keeps sheep 
 on the hillsides ; and, instead of wearing a coat, 
 wraps himself in his plaid, for protection from the 
 cold winds that drive before them great clouds of 
 mist and snow among the mountains. 
 
 As for Jeanie herself (you must be careful to 
 spell her name with an ea, for that is Scotch 
 fashion), her yellow hair is bound about with a 
 little snood ; her face is browned by exposure to
 
 STORY OF THE AMBER BEADS 9 
 
 the weather; and her hands are hardened by 
 work, for she helps her mother to cook and sew, 
 to spin and weave. 
 
 One treasure little Jeanie has which many a 
 lady would be proud to wear. It is a necklace of 
 amber beads, " lamour beads," old Elsie calls 
 them ; that is the name they went by when she 
 was young. 
 
 You have, perhaps, seen amber, and know its 
 rich, sunshiny color, and its fragrance when 
 rubbed ; and do you also know that rubbing will 
 make amber attract things somewhat as a magnet 
 does ? Jeanie's beads had all these properties, 
 but some others besides, wonderful and lovely; 
 and it is of those particularly that I wish to tell 
 you. Each bead has inside of it some tiny thing, 
 incased as if it had grown in the amber ; and Jeanie 
 is never tired of looking at, and wondering about, 
 them. Here is one with a delicate bit of ferny 
 moss shut up, as it were, in a globe of yellow light. 
 In another is the tiniest fly, his little wings out- 
 spread, and raised for flight. Again, she can show 
 us a bee lodged in one bead that looks like solid 
 honey, and a little bright-winged beetle in another.
 
 10 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 This one holds two slender pine-needles lying 
 across each other, and here we see a single scale 
 of a pine-cone ; while yet another shows an atom 
 of an acorn-cup, fit for a fairy's use. I wish you 
 could see the beads, for I cannot tell you the half 
 of their beauty. Now, where do you suppose 
 they came from, and how did little Scotch Jeanie 
 come into possession of such a treasure ? 
 
 All she knows about it is, that her grandfather, 
 old Kenneth, who cowers now all day in the 
 chimney-corner, once, years ago when he was 
 a young lad, went down upon the seashore after a 
 great storm, hoping to help save something from 
 the wreck of the " Goshawk," that had gone 
 ashore during the night ; and there among the 
 slippery seaweeds his foot had accidentally un- 
 covered a clear, shining lump of amber, in which 
 all these little creatures were embedded. Now, 
 Kenneth loved a pretty Highland lass; and, when 
 she promised to be his bride, he brought her a 
 necklace of amber beads. He had carved them 
 himself out of his lump of amber, working care- 
 fully to save in each bead the prettiest insect or 
 moss, and thinking, while he toiled hour after
 
 STORY OF THE AMBER BEADS II 
 
 hour, of the delight with which he should see his 
 bride wear them. That bride was Jeanie's grand- 
 mother ; and when she died last year, she said, 
 "Let little Jeanie have my lamour beads, and 
 keep them as long as she lives." 
 
 But what puzzled Jeanie was, how the amber 
 came to be on the seashore ; and, most of all, 
 how the bees and mosses came inside of it. 
 Should you like to know ? If you would, that is 
 one of Mother Nature's stories, and she will 
 gladly tell it. Hear what she answers to our 
 questions : 
 
 " I remember a time, long, long before you were 
 born, long, even, before any men were living 
 upon the earth ; then these Scotch Highlands, 
 as you call them, where little Jeanie lives, were 
 covered with forests. There were oaks, poplars, 
 beeches, and pines ; and among them one kind 
 of pine, tall and stately, from which a shining 
 yellow gum flowed, just as you have seen little 
 drops of sticky gum exude from our own pine- 
 trees. This beautiful yellow gum was fragrant ; 
 and, as the thousands of little insects fluttered 
 about it in the warm sunshine, they were at-
 
 12 S 'TORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 tracted by its pleasant odor, perhaps, too, by 
 its taste, and once alighted upon it, they stuck 
 fast, and could not get away; while the great 
 yellow drops oozing out surrounded, and at last 
 covered, them entirely. So, too, wind-blown bits 
 of moss, leaves, acorns, cones, and little sticks 
 were soon securely imbedded in the fast-flowing 
 gum ; and, as time went by, it hardened and 
 hardened more and more. And this is amber." 
 
 " That is well told, Mother Nature ; but it does 
 not explain how Kenneth's lump of amber came 
 to be on the seashore." 
 
 " Wait, then, for the second part of the story. 
 
 "Did you ever hear that, in those very old 
 times, the land sometimes sank down into the 
 sea, even so deep that the water covered the 
 very mountain-tops ; and then, after ages, it was 
 slowly lifted up again, to sink indeed, perhaps, 
 yet again and again? 
 
 " You can hardly believe it, yet I myself was 
 there to see; and I remember well when the 
 great forests of the North of Scotland the oaks, 
 the poplars, and the amber-pines were lowered 
 into the deep sea. There, lying at the bottom
 
 STORY OF THE AMBER BEADS 13 
 
 of the ocean, the wood and the gum hardened 
 like stone, and only the great storms can disturb 
 them as they lie half buried in the sand. It was 
 one of those great storms that brought Kenneth's 
 lump of amber to land." 
 
 If we could only walk on the bottom of the 
 sea, what treasures we might find !
 
 THE 
 NEW LIFE
 
 THE NEW LIFE 
 
 IT is May, almost the end of May, indeed, 
 and the Mayflowers have finished their blooming 
 for this year. It is growing too warm for those 
 delicate violets and hepaticas who dare to brave 
 even March winds, and can bear snow better 
 than summer heats. 
 
 Down at the edge of the pond the tall water- 
 grasses and rushes are tossing their heads a little 
 in the wind, and swinging a little, lightly and 
 lazily, with the motion of the water; but the 
 water is almost clear and still this morning, 
 scarcely rippled, and in its beautiful, broad mirror 
 reflecting the chestnut-trees on the bank, and 
 the little points of land that run out from the 
 shore, and give foothold to the old pines standing 
 guard day and night, summer and winter, to 
 watch up. the pond and down.
 
 1 8 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 Do you think now that you know how the pond 
 looks in the sunshine of this May morning ? 
 
 If we come close to the edge where the rushes 
 are growing, and look down through the clear 
 water, we shall see some uncouth and clumsy 
 black bugs crawling upon the bottom of the pond. 
 They have six legs, and are covered with a coat 
 of armor laid plate over plate. It looks hard and 
 horny ; and the insect himself has a dull, heavy 
 way with him, and might be called very stupid 
 were it not for his eagerness in catching and 
 eating every little fly and mosquito that comes 
 within his reach. His eyes grow fierce and 
 almost bright ; and he seizes with open mouth, 
 and devours all day long, if he can find any 
 thing suited to his taste. 
 
 I am afraid you will think he is not very 
 interesting, and will not care to make his ac- 
 quaintance. But, let me tell you, something very 
 wonderful is about to happen to him ; and if you 
 stay and watch patiently, you will see what I saw 
 once, and have never forgotten. 
 
 Here he is crawling in mud under the water 
 this May morning : out over the pond shoot the
 
 THE NEW LIFE 19 
 
 flat water-boatmen, and the water-spiders dance 
 and skip as if the pond were a floor of glass ; 
 while here and there skims a blue dragon-fly, 
 with his fine, firm ' wings that look like the 
 thinnest gauze, but are really wondrously strong 
 for all their delicate appearance. 
 
 The dull, black bug sees all these bright, agile 
 insects ; and, for the first time in his life, he feels 
 discontented with his own low place in the mud. 
 A longing creeps through him that is quite dif- 
 ferent from the customary longing for mosquitoes 
 and flies. " I will creep up the stem of this 
 rush," he thinks; "and perhaps, when I reach 
 the surface of the water, I can dart like the little 
 flat boatmen, or, better than all, shoot through 
 the air like the blue-winged dragon-fly." But, as 
 as he crawls toilsomely up the slippery stem, 
 the feeling that he has no wings like the dragon- 
 fly makes him discouraged and almost despair- 
 ing. At last, however, with much labor he has 
 reached the surface, has crept out of the water, 
 and, clinging to the green stem, feels the spring 
 air and sunshine all about him. Now let him 
 take passage with the boatmen, or ask some of
 
 20 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 the little spiders to dance. Why doesn't he 
 begin to enjoy himself? 
 
 Alas! see his sad disappointment. After all 
 this toil, after passing some splendid chances of 
 good breakfasts on the way up, and spending all 
 his strength on this one exploit, he finds the 
 fresh air suffocating him, and a most strange 
 and terrible feeling coming over him, as his coat- 
 of-mail, which until now was always kept wet, 
 shrinks, and seems even cracking off while the 
 warm air dries it. 
 
 " Oh," thinks the poor bug, " I must die ! It 
 was folly in me to crawl up here. The mud and 
 the water were good enough for my brothers, 
 and good enough for me too, had I only known 
 it; and now I am too weak, and feel too 
 strangely, to attempt going down again the way 
 I came up." 
 
 See how uneasy he grows, feeling about in 
 doubt and dismay, for a darkness is coming over 
 his eyes. It is the black helmet, a part of his 
 coat-of-mail ; it has broken off at the top, and is 
 falling down over his face. A minute more, and 
 it drops below his chin ; and what is his aston-
 
 THE NEW LIFE 21 
 
 ishment to find, that, as his old face breaks away, 
 a new one comes in its place, larger, much more 
 beautiful, and having two of the most admirable 
 eyes! two, I say, because they look like two, 
 but each of them is made up of hundreds of 
 little eyes. They stand out globe-like on each 
 side of his head, and look about over a world 
 unknown and wonderful to the dull, black bug 
 who lived in the mud. The sky seems bluer, 
 the sunshine brighter, and the nodding grass and 
 flowers more gay and graceful. Now he lifts 
 this new head to see more of the great world ; 
 and behold ! as he moves, he is drawing himself 
 out of the old suit of armor, and from two neat 
 little cases at its sides come two pairs of wings, 
 folded up like fans, and put away here to be 
 ready for use when the right time should come : 
 still half folded they are, and must be care- 
 fully spread open and smoothed for use. And 
 while he trembles with surprise, see how with 
 every movement he is escaping from the old 
 armor, and drawing from their sheaths fine legs, 
 longer and far more beautifully made and colored 
 than the old ; and a slender body that was packed
 
 22 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 away like a spy-glass, and is now drawn slowly 
 out, one part after another ; until at last the dark 
 coat-of-mail dangles empty from the rushes, and 
 above it sits a dragon-fly with great, wondering 
 eyes, long, slender body, and two pairs of delicate, 
 gauzy wings, fine and firm as the very ones 
 he had been watching but an hour ago. 
 
 The poor black bug wh<? thought he was dying 
 was only passing out of his old life to be born 
 into a higher one; and see how much brighter 
 and more beautiful it is ! 
 
 And now shall I tell you how, months ago, 
 the mother dragon-fly dropped into the water 
 her tiny eggs, which lay there in the mud, and 
 by and by hatched out the dark, crawling bugs, 
 so unlike the mother that she does not ^Jcnow 
 them for her children, and, flying over the pond, 
 looks down through the water where they crawl 
 among the rushes, and has not a single word to 
 say to them ; until, in due time, they find their 
 way up to the air, and pass into the new winged 
 life. 
 
 If you will go to some pond when spring is 
 ending or summer beginning, and find among
 
 THE NEW LIFE 23 
 
 the water-grasses such an insect as I have told 
 you of, you may see all this for yourselves ; and 
 you will say with me, dear children, that noth- 
 ing you have ever known is more wonderful.
 
 THE TALK OF THE TREES THAT STAND 
 IN THE VILLAGE STREET
 
 THE TALK OF THE TREES THAT STAND 
 IN THE VILLAGE STREET 
 
 How still it is ! Nobody in the village street, 
 the children all at school, and the very dogs 
 sleeping lazily in the sunshine. Only a south 
 wind blows lightly through the trees, lifting the 
 great fans of the horse-chestnut, tossing the 
 slight branches of the elm against the sky like 
 single feathers of a great plume, and swinging 
 out fragrance from the heavy-hanging linden- 
 blossoms. 
 
 Through the silence there is a little murmur, 
 like a low song. It is the song of the trees : 
 each has its own voice, which may be known 
 from all others by the ear that has learned how 
 to listen. 
 
 The topmost branches of the elm are talking 
 of the sky, of those highest white clouds that 
 
 27
 
 28 STOIVES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 float like tresses of silver hair in the far blue, of 
 the sunrise gold and the rose-color of sunset that 
 always rest upon them most 'lovingly. But down 
 deep in the heart of the great branches you may 
 hear something quite different, and not less 
 sweet. 
 
 " Peep under my leaves," sings the elm-tree, 
 "out at the ends of my broadest branches. 
 What hangs there so soft and gray ? Who 
 comes with a flash of wings and gleam of golden 
 breast among the dark leaves, and sits above 
 the gray hanging nest to sing his full, sweet 
 tune ? Who worked there together so happily 
 all the May-time, with gray honeysuckle fibres, 
 twining the little nest, until there it hung 
 securely over the road, bound and tied and 
 woven firmly to the slender twigs ? so slender 
 that the squirrels even cannot creep down for 
 the eggs ; much less can Jack or Neddy, who are 
 so fond of birds'-nesting, ever hope to reach the 
 home of our golden robin. 
 
 " There my leaves shelter him like a roof from 
 rain and from sunshine. I rock the cradle when 
 the father and mother are away and the little
 
 THE TALK OF THE TREES 29 
 
 ones cry, and in my softest tone I sing to them ; 
 yet they are never quite satisfied with me, but 
 beat their wings, and stretch out their heads, 
 and cannot be happy until they hear their father. 
 
 "The squirrel, who lives in the hole where 
 the two great branches part, hears what I say, 
 and curls up his tail, while he turns his bright 
 eyes towards the swinging nest which he can 
 never reach." 
 
 The fanning wind wafts across the road the 
 voice of the old horse-chestnut, who also has a 
 word to say about the birds'-nests. 
 
 "When my blossoms were fresh, white pyra- 
 mids, came a swift flutter of wings about them 
 one day, and a dazzlingly beautiful little bird 
 thrust his long, delicate bill among the flowers ; 
 and while he held himself there in the air with- 
 out touching his tiriy feet to twig or stem, but 
 only by the swift fanning of long, green-tinted 
 wings, I offered him my best flowers for his 
 breakfast, and bowed my great leaves as a wel- 
 come to him. The dear little thing had been 
 here before, while yet the sticky brown buds 
 which wrap up my leaves had not burst open to
 
 30 STORIES MOTH!. R .XATURE TOLD 
 
 the warm sunshine. He and his mate, whose 
 feather dress was not so fine as his, gathered the 
 gum from the outside of the buds, and pulled 
 the warm wool from the inside ; and I could 
 watch them as they flew away to the maple 
 yonder, for then the trees that stand between 
 us had no leaves to hide the maple, as they do 
 now. 
 
 "Back and forth flew the birds from the top- 
 most maple-branch to my opening buds; and 
 day by day I saw a little nest growing, very 
 small and round, lined warmly with wool from 
 my buds, and thatched all over the outside with 
 bits of lichen, gray and green, to match what 
 grew on the maple-branches about it ; and this 
 thatch was glued on with the gum from my 
 brown buds. When it was finished, it was deli- 
 cate enough for the cradle of a little princess, 
 and the outside was so carefully matched to the 
 tree by lichens, that the sharpest eyes from below 
 could not detect it. What a safe r snug home for 
 the humming-birds ! 
 
 " By the time the two tiny eggs were laid, I 
 could no longer see the nest, for the thick foliage
 
 THE TALK OF THE TREES 31 
 
 of other trees had built up a green wall between 
 me and it. But for many days the mother-bird 
 staid away, and the father came alone to drink 
 honey from my blossom-cups : so I knew that 
 the- eggs were hatching under her warm folded 
 wings, for I have seen such things before among 
 my own branches in the robins' nests and the 
 bluebirds'. 
 
 " Now my flowers are all gone, and in their 
 place the nuts are growing in their prickly balls. 
 I have nothing to tempt the humming-bird, and 
 he never visits me : only the yellow birds hop 
 gayly from branch to branch, and the robins come 
 sometimes." And the horse-chestnut sighed, for 
 he missed the humming-bird ; and he flapped his 
 great leaves in the very face of the lioden- 
 blossoms, and forgot to say " Excuse me." But 
 the linden is now, and for many days, full of 
 sweetness, and will not answer ungraciously even 
 so careless a touch. 
 
 Yes, the linden is full of sweetness, and sends 
 out the fragrance from his blossoms in through 
 the chamber windows, and down upon the people 
 who pass in the street below. And he tells
 
 32 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 all the time his story of how his pink-covered 
 leaf-buds opened in the spring mornings, and 
 unfolded the fresh green leaves, which were so 
 tender and full of green juices that it was no 
 wonder the mother-moth had thought the branches 
 a good place whereon to lay her eggs ; for as soon 
 as they should be all laid, she would die, and 
 there would be no one to. provide food for her 
 babies when they should creep out. 
 
 " So the nice mother-moth made a toilsome 
 journey up my great trunk," sung the linden, 
 "and left her eggs where she knew the freshest 
 green leaves would be coming out by the time 
 the young ones should leave the eggs. 
 
 "And they came out Indeed, somewhat to my 
 sorrow ; for instead of being, like their mother, 
 sober, well-behaved little moths, they were green 
 canker-worms, and such hungry little things, that 
 I really began to fear I should have not a whole 
 leaf left upon me ; when one day they spun for 
 themselves fine silken ropes, and swung them- 
 selves down from leaf to leaf, and from branch 
 to branch, and in a day or two were all gone. 
 
 "A little flaxen-haired girl sat on the broad
 
 THE TALK OF THE TREES 33 
 
 doorstep at my feet, and caught the canker-worms 
 in her white apron. She liked to see them hump 
 up their backs, and measure off the inches of 
 her white checked apron with their little green 
 bodies. And I, although I liked them well 
 enough at first, was not sorry to lose them when 
 they went. I heard the child's mother telling 
 her that they had come down to make for them- 
 selves beds in the earth, where they would sleep 
 until the early spring, and wake to find them- 
 selves grown into moths just like their mothers, 
 who climbed up the tree to lay eggs. We shall 
 see when next spring comes if that is so. Now, 
 since they went, I have done my best to refresh 
 my leaves, and keep young and happy ; and here 
 are my sweet blossoms to prove that I have yet 
 within me vigorous life." 
 
 The elm-tree heard what the linden sung, and 
 said, "Very true, very true. I, too, have suffered 
 from the canker-worms; but I have yet leaves 
 enough left for a beautiful shade, and the poor 
 crawling things must surely eat something." 
 And the elm bowed gracefully to the linden, out 
 of sympathy for him.
 
 34 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 But the linden has heard the voices of* the 
 young robins who live in the nest among his 
 highest boughs ; and he must yet tell to the 
 horse-chestnut how sad it was the other day in 
 the thunder-storm, when the wind upset the nest, 
 and one little bird was thrown out and killed ; 
 while the father and mother flew about in the 
 greatest distress, until Charley came, climbed 
 the tree, and fitted the nest safely back into its 
 place. 
 
 How much the trees have to say ! And there 
 is the pine, who was born and brought up in the 
 woods, he is always whispering secrets of the 
 great forest, and of the river beside which he 
 grew. The other trees can't always understand 
 him : he is the poet among them, and a poet is 
 always suspected of knowing a little more than 
 any one else. 
 
 Sometime I may try to tell you something of 
 what he says ; but here ends the talk of the trees 
 that stood in the village street.
 
 HOW 
 
 THE INDIAN CORN 
 GROWS
 
 HOW THE INDIAN CORN GROWS 
 
 THE children came in from the field with their 
 hands full of the soft, pale-green corn-silk. 
 Annie had rolled hers into a bird's-nest ; while 
 Willie had dressed his little sister's hair with the 
 long, damp tresses, until she seemed more like 
 a mermaid, with pale blue eyes shining out 
 between the locks of her sea-green hair, than 
 like our own Alice. 
 
 They brought their treasures to the mother, 
 who sat on the door-step of the farm-house, 
 under the tall, old elm-tree that had been grow- 
 ing there ever since her mother was a child. 
 She praised the beauty of the bird's-nest, and 
 kissed the little mermaiden to find if her lips 
 tasted of salt water ; but then she said, " Don't 
 break any more of the silk, dear children, else we 
 shall have no ears of corn in the field, none 
 
 37
 
 38 STORfES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 to roast before our picnic fires, and none to dry 
 and pop at Christmas-time next winter." 
 
 Now, the children wondered at what their 
 mother said, and begged that she would tell them 
 how the silk could make the round, full kernels 
 of corn. And this is the story that the mother 
 told, while they all sat on the door-step under 
 the old elm. 
 
 "When your father broke up the ground with 
 his plough, and scattered in the seed-corn, the 
 crows were watching from the old apple-tree, 
 and they came down to pick up the corn ; and, 
 indeed, they did carry away a good deal. But the 
 days went by, the spring showers moistened the 
 earth, and the sun shone ; and so the seed-corn 
 swelled, and, bursting open, thrust out two little 
 hands, one reaching down to hold itself firmly 
 in the earth, and one reaching up to the light 
 and air. The first was never very beautiful, but 
 certainly quite useful ; for, besides holding the 
 corn firmly in its place, it drew up water and 
 food for the whole plant : but the second spread 
 out two long, slender green leaves, that waved 
 with every breath of air, and seemed to rejoice in
 
 HO W THE INDIAN CORN GROWS 39 
 
 every ray of sunshine. Day by day it grew taller 
 and taller, and by and by put out new streamers 
 broader and stronger, until it stood higher than 
 Willie's head. Then, at the top, came a new 
 kind of bud, quite different from those that folded 
 the green streamers ; and when that opened, it 
 showed a nodding flower, which swayed and bowed 
 at the top of the stalk like the crown of the 
 whole plant. And yet this was not the best that 
 the corn-plant could do ; for lower down, and 
 partly hidden by the leaves, it had hung out a 
 silken tassel of pale sea-green color, like the 
 hair of a little mermaid. Now, every silken 
 thread was in truth a tiny tube, so fine that our 
 eyes cannot see the bore of it. The nodding 
 flower that grew so gayly up above there was 
 day by day ripening a golden dust called pollen ; 
 and every grain of this pollen and they were 
 very small grains indeed knew perfectly well 
 that the silken threads were tubes, and they 
 felt an irresistible desire to enter the shining 
 passages, and explore them to the very end : so 
 one day, when the wind was tossing the whole 
 blossoms this way and that, the pollen-grains
 
 40 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 danced out, and, sailing down on the soft breeze, 
 each one crept in at the open door of a sea-green 
 tube. Down they slid over the shining floors ; 
 and what was their delight to find, when they 
 reached the end, that they had all along been 
 expected, and for each one was a little room 
 prepared, and sweet food for their nourishment ! 
 And from this time they had no desire to go 
 away, but remained each in his own place, and 
 grew every day stronger and larger and rounder, 
 even as baby in the cradle there, who has nothing 
 to do but grow. 
 
 "Side by side were their cradles, one beyond 
 another in beautiful straight rows ; and as the 
 pollen-grains grew daily larger, the cradles also 
 grew for their accommodation, until at last they 
 felt themselves really full of sweet, delicious life ; 
 and those who lived at the tops of the rows 
 peeped out from the opening of the dry leaves 
 which wrapped them all together, and saw a little 
 boy with his father coming through the cornfield, 
 while yet every thing was beaded with dew, and 
 the sun was scarcely an hour high. The boy 
 carried a basket ; and the father broke from the
 
 HOW THE INDIAN CORN GROWS 41 
 
 corn-stalks the full, firm ears of sweet corn, and 
 heaped the basket full." 
 
 " O mother," cried Willie, "that was father and 
 I ! Don't you remember how we used to go 
 out last summer every morning before breakfast 
 to bring in the corn ? And we must have taken 
 that very ear ; for I remember how the full 
 kernels lay in straight rows, side by side, just as 
 you have told." 
 
 Now Alice is breaking her threads of silk, and 
 trying to see the tiny opening of the tube ; and 
 Annie thinks she will look for the pollen-grains 
 the very next time she goes to the cornfield.
 
 WATER-LILIES
 
 WATER-LILIES 
 
 THE stream that crept down from the hills, 
 three miles away, has worn a smooth bed for itself 
 in the gravel ; has watered the farmer's fields, and 
 turned the wheel of the old grist-mill, where the 
 miller tends the stones that grind the farmer's 
 corn. But down below here the stream has some- 
 thing else to do. It has been working hard, up 
 and away from dam to dam again ; and as always in 
 life there should be something besides business, 
 something beautiful and peaceful, so the stream 
 has swept round this corner, behind the wooded 
 point of land which hides the mill, and spread 
 itself out in the hollow of Brown's meadow, 
 where farmer Brown says his grandfather used 
 to tell him some Indian wigwams stood when he 
 he was a boy. The land has sunk since then, 
 and there is something more beautiful than 
 Indian wigwams there now. 
 
 45
 
 46 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 Where the old squaws used to sit weaving 
 baskets, and the pappooses rolled and played, is 
 now thick, black mud, in which are great tangled 
 roots, some of them bigger than my arm. 
 
 All winter they lie there under the ice, while 
 the children skate over them. In the spring, 
 when every thing stirs with new life, they, too, 
 must wake up : so, slowly and steadily, they begin 
 to put up long stems to reach the surface of the 
 water. Chambered stems they are, each having 
 four passages leading up to the air, and down to 
 the root and black mud. The walls of these 
 chambers are brown and slimy, and each stem 
 bears at its top a slimy bud, slimy on the out- 
 side, brownish-green as it pushes up through the 
 water ; for this outer coat is stout and water- 
 proof, and can well afford to be unpretending, 
 since it carries something very precious wrapped 
 up inside. 
 
 Not days, but weeks, even months, it is 
 working upon this hidden treasure before we 
 shall see it. And the July mornings have come 
 while we wait. 
 
 Can you wake at three o'clock, children, and,
 
 WA TER-LILIES 47 
 
 while the birds are singing their very best songs, 
 go down the road under the elms, across the little 
 bridge, and through the hemlock grove at the 
 right ? It is a mile to walk, and you will not be 
 there too early. The broad, smooth pond, that 
 the brook has made for its holiday pleasure, is at 
 our feet. At its bottom are the tangled roots ; 
 on the surface, among the flat, green leaves, float 
 those buds that have been so long creeping 
 towards the light. 
 
 One long, bright beam from the sun just rising 
 smiles across the meadow, and touches the folded 
 buds. They must, indeed, smile back in reply; 
 so the thick sheath unfolds, and behold ! the 
 whitest, fairest lily-cup floats on the water, and 
 its golden centre smiles back to the sun with 
 many rays. 
 
 We watched only one, but perhaps none is 
 willing to be latest in greeting the sun, and the 
 pond is already half-covered with a snowy fleet 
 of boats fit for the fairies, boats under full sail 
 for fairy-land, laden with beauty and fragrance. 
 
 And this is what the dark mud can send forth. 
 This is one of Mother Nature's hidden treasures.
 
 48 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 Perhaps she hides something as white and beauti- 
 ful in all that seems dark and ugly, if only we 
 will wait and watch for it, and be willing to come 
 at the very dawn of day to look for it. 
 
 The lilies will stay with us, now that at last 
 they are here, all through the rest of the summer, 
 and even into the warm, sunny days of earliest 
 October ; but it will be only a few who stay so 
 late as that. And where have the others gone, 
 meanwhile ? You see there are no dead lilies 
 floating, folded and decaying, among the pads. 
 
 The stem that found its way so surely to the 
 upper world knows not less surely the way back 
 again ; and when its white blossom has opened 
 for the last time, and then wrapped its green 
 cloak about it again, not to be unfolded, the 
 chambered stem coils backward, and carries it 
 safely to the bottom, where its seed may ripen 
 in the soft, dark mud, and prepare for another 
 summer.
 
 THE CARRYING TRADE
 
 THE CARRYING TRADE 
 
 WHO wants to engage in the carrying trade ? 
 Come, Lottie and Lula and Nina and Mary, all 
 bring your maps, and we will play merchants, 
 and see what is meant by the carrying trade. 
 
 Lottie shall have the bark " Rosette," and sail 
 from Boston to Calcutta ; Lula, the steamer 
 "North Star," from New York for Liverpool; 
 Mary shall take the " Sea-Gull," from Philadelphia 
 to San Francisco ; and Nina is owner of the 
 "Racer," that makes voyages up the Mediter- 
 ranean. Are we all ready for our little game ? 
 
 Lottie begins, and she must find out what 
 Boston has to send to Calcutta. Don't send 
 indigo or saltpetre or gunny-bags or ginger ; for, 
 even should you have these articles to spare, 
 Calcutta has an abundance at home, and you 
 must discover something that she needs, but does 
 
 5'
 
 52 STOKIES MOTH EX NATURE TOLD 
 
 not possess. " Ice," says Lottie. " Yes, that is 
 just the thing, because Calcutta has a hot climate, 
 and does not make her own ice : so load the 
 ' Rosette ' with great blocks well packed, and 
 start at once, for your voyage is long." 
 
 And now we will go with Lula to the North 
 River pier, where her great steamer lies, and see 
 what she intends to carry to Liverpool. Bales of 
 cotton, barrels of flour, of beef, and of petroleum. 
 All very good, so good-by to her. In a few weeks 
 we will see what she brings back. 
 
 Come, Mary, what has Philadelphia for San 
 Francisco ? Oh, what a load the " Sea-Gull " 
 must take of machinery, steam-engines, tobacco, 
 and oil ; and such a quantity of other things, that 
 the " Sea-Gull " will need to make many voyages 
 before she can take them all. We load her at 
 this busy wharf, where the coal-vessels are pass- 
 ing in and out for New York and Boston, and 
 the steamers are loading for Europe, and the 
 little coasters crowding in one after another ; and 
 away we go for the voyage round the " Horn," 
 where the " Sea-Gull " will meet her namesakes, 
 and perhaps some stormy winds besides.
 
 THE CARRYING TRADE 53 
 
 Meantime Nina's "Racer" has been stored full 
 of cotton cloths and hardware, and has raced 
 out of Boston Harbor so swiftly that fair winds 
 will take her to Gibraltar in three weeks. 
 
 And so you have all engaged in the carrying 
 trade ; but as yet you have carried only one way. 
 To complete the game, we must wait for Lotjtie 
 to bring the " Rosette " safely home with salt- 
 petre and indigo and hides and ginger anci. 
 seersuckers and gunny-cloth. And the " North 
 Star" must steam her quick way across the 
 Atlantic, and return with salt and hardware, 
 anchors, steel, woollens, and linens. Mary must 
 beat her way round Cape Horn, and home again 
 with wool and gold and silver. And the swift 
 "Racer" must quickly bring the figs and prunes 
 and raisins, and the oranges and lemons, that will 
 spoil if they are too long on the way. 
 
 So children may play at the carrying trade, and 
 so their fathers and uncles may work at it in 
 earnest : and so also hundreds of little workers 
 are busy all the world over in another carrying 
 trade, which keeps you and me alive from day to 
 day; and yet We scarcely think at all how it is
 
 54 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 going on, .or stop to thank the hands that feed 
 us. 
 
 England and Italy are kingdoms, and the 
 United States a republic, and they all engage in 
 this business, and are constantly sending goods 
 one to another ; but there are other kingdoms, 
 not put down on any map, that are just as busy 
 as they, and in the same sort of work too. 
 The earth is one kingdom, the water another, 
 and there is the great republic of the gases 
 surrounding us on every side ; only we can't see 
 it, because its inhabitants have the fairy gift of 
 being invisible to us. Each of these kingdoms 
 has products to export, and is all ready to trade 
 with the others, if only some one will supply the 
 means ; just as the Frenchmen might stand on 
 their shores, and hold out to us wines and prunes 
 and silks and muslins, and we might stand on 
 our shores, and hold out gold and silver to them, 
 and yet could make no exchange, because there 
 were no ships to carry the goods across. "Ah," 
 you may say, " that is not at all the case here ; 
 for the earth, the air, and the water are all 
 close to each other, and close to" us, and there
 
 THE CARRYING TRADE 55 
 
 is no need of ships ; we can exchange hand to 
 hand." 
 
 But here comes a difficulty. Read carefully, 
 and I think you will understand it. Here is 
 Ruth, a little growing girl, who wants phosphate 
 of lime to build bones with ; for as she grows, of 
 course her bones must grow too. Very well, I 
 answer, there is plenty of phosphate of lime 
 in the earth ; she can have all she wants. Yes, 
 but does Ruth want to eat earth ? do you ? 
 does anybody ? Certainly not : so, although the 
 food she needs is close beside her, even under her 
 feet, she cannot get it any more than we can get 
 the French goods, excepting by means of the 
 carrying trade. Where now are the little ships 
 that shall bring to Ruth the phosphate of lime 
 she needs, and cannot reach, although it lies in 
 her own father's field ? Let me show you how her 
 father can build the ships that will bring it to 
 her. He must go out into that field, and plant 
 wheat-seeds, and as they grow, every little ear 
 and kernel gathers up phosphate of lime, and 
 becomes a tiny ship freighted with what his 
 little daughter needs. When that wheat is
 
 56 STOX/ES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 ground into flour, and made into bread, Ruth 
 will eat what she couldn't have been willing to 
 taste, unless the useful little ships of the wheat- 
 field had brought it to her. 
 
 Now let us send to the republic of the gases 
 for some supplies, for we cannot live without 
 carbon and oxygen ; and although we do breathe 
 in oxygen with every breathe we draw, we also 
 need to receive it in other ways : so the sugar- 
 cane and the maple-trees engage in the carrying 
 trade for us, taking in carbon and oxygen by their 
 leaves, and sending it through their bodies, and 
 when it reaches us it is sugar, and a very 
 pleasant food to most o you, I dare say. 
 
 But we cannot take all we need of these gases 
 in the form of sugar, and there are many other 
 ships that will bring it to us. The corn will 
 gather it up, and offer it in the form of meal, or 
 of cornstarch puddings ; or the grass will bring 
 it to the cow, since you and I refuse to take it 
 from the grass ships. But the cow offers it to us 
 again in the form of milk, and we do not think 
 of refusing ; t>r the butcher offers it to us in the 
 form of beef, and we do not say " no."
 
 THE CARRYING TRADE 57 
 
 Alice wants some india-rubber shoes. Do you 
 think the kingdoms of air and water can send 
 her a pair? The india-rubber tree in South 
 America will take up water, and separate from it 
 hydrogen, of which it is partly composed, and 
 adding to this carbon from the air, will make a 
 gum which we can work into shoes and' balls, 
 buttons, tubes, cups, cloth, and a hundred other 
 useful articles. 
 
 Then, again, you and I, all of us, must go to 
 the world of gases for nitrogen to help build our 
 bodies, to make muscle and blood and skin and 
 hair; and so the peas and beans load their boat- 
 shaped seeds full, and bring it to us so fresh and 
 excellent that we enjoy eating it. 
 
 This useful carrying trade has also another 
 branch well worth looking at. 
 
 You remember hearing how many soldiers were 
 sick in war-time at the South ; but perhaps you 
 do not know that their best medicine was brought 
 to them by a South-American tree, that gathered 
 up from the earth and air bitter juices to make 
 what we call quinine. Then there is camphor, 
 which I am sure you have all seen, sent by the
 
 58 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 East-Indian camphor-tree to cure you when you 
 are sick ; and gum-arabic and all the other gums ; 
 and castor-oil and most of the other medicines 
 that you don't at all like, all brought to us by 
 the plants. 
 
 I might tell you a great deal more of this, 
 but I will only stop to show a little what we give 
 back in payment for all that is brought. 
 
 When England sends us hardware and woollen 
 goods, she expects us to repay her with cotton 
 and sugar, that are just as valuable to us as 
 hardware and woollens to her ; but see how 
 differently we treat the kingdoms from which 
 the plant-ships are all the time bringing us 
 food and clothes and medicines, etc. All we 
 return is just so much as we don't want to use. 
 We take in good fresh air, and breathe out 
 impure and bad. We throw back to the earth 
 whatever will not nourish and strengthen us ; and 
 yet no complaint comes from the faithful plants. 
 Do you wonder? I will let you into the secret 
 of this. The truth is, that what is- worthless to 
 us is really just the food they need ; and they 
 don't at all know how little we value it ourselves.
 
 THE CARRYING TRADE 59 
 
 It is like the Chinese, of whom we might buy 
 rice or silk or tea, and pay them in rats which 
 we are glad to be rid of, while they consider 
 them good food. 
 
 Now, I have given you only a peep into this 
 carrying trade, but it is enough to show you how 
 to use your own eyes to learn more about it. 
 Look about you, and see if you can't tell as 
 good a story as I have done, or a better one if 
 you please.
 
 SEA-LIFE
 
 SEA-LIFE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE STAR-FISH TAKES A SUMMER JOURNEY. 
 
 ONCE there was a little star-fish, and he had 
 five fingers and five eyes, one at the end of each 
 finger, so that he might be said to have at least 
 one power at his fingers' ends. And he had I 
 can't tell you how many little feet ; but being 
 without legs, you see, he couldn't be expected to 
 walk very fast. The feet couldn't move one 
 before the other as yours do : they could only 
 cling like little suckers, by which he pulled him- 
 self slowly along from place to place. Neverthe- 
 less, he, was very proud of this accomplishment ; 
 and sometimes this pride led him to an unjust 
 contempt for his neighbors, as you will see by and 
 by. He was very particular about his eating; 
 
 63
 
 64 STOJUES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 and besides his mouth, which lay in the centre 
 of his body, he had a little scarlet-colored sieve 
 through which he strained the water he drank. 
 For he couldn't think of taking in common sea- 
 water with every thing that might be floating in 
 it, that would do for crabs and lobsters and 
 other common people ; but anybody who wears 
 such a lovely purple coat, and has brothers and 
 sisters dressed in crimson, feels a little above 
 such living. 
 
 Now, one day this star-fish set out on a summer 
 journey, not to the seaside where you and I 
 went last year : of course not, for he was there 
 already. No; he thought he would go to the 
 mountains. He could not go to the Rocky 
 Mountains, nor to the Catskill Mountains, nor the 
 White Mountains; for, with all his accomplish- 
 ments, he had not yet learned to live in any 
 drier place than a pool among the rocks, or the 
 very wettest sand at low tide : so, if he travelled 
 to the mountains, it must be to the mountains 
 of the sea. 
 
 Perhaps you didn't know that there are moun- 
 tains in the sea. I have seen them, however,
 
 SEA-LIFE 65 
 
 and I think you have, too, at least their tops, 
 if nothing more. What is that little rocky ledge, 
 where the lighthouse stands, but the stony top 
 of a hill rising from the bottom of the sea ? And 
 what are the pretty green islands, with their clus- 
 ters of trees and grassy slopes, but the summits 
 of hills lifted out of the water? 
 
 In many parts of the sea, where the water is 
 deep, are hills and even high mountains, whose 
 tops do not reach the surface ; and we should not 
 know where they are, were it not that the sailors, 
 in measuring the depth of the sea, sometimes sail 
 right over these mountain-tops, and touch them 
 with their sounding-lines. 
 
 The star-fish set out one day, about five hun- 
 dred years ago, to visit some of these mountains 
 of the sea. If he had depended upon his own 
 feet for getting there, it would have taken him 
 till this day, I verily believe ; but he no more 
 thought of walking, than you or I should think of 
 walking to China. You shall see how he trav- 
 elled. A great train was coming down from the 
 Northern seas ; not a railroad train, but a water 
 train, sweeping on like a river in the sea. Its
 
 66 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 track lay along near the bottom of the ocean; 
 and above you could see no sign of it, any more 
 than you can see the cars while they go through 
 the tunnel under the street. The principal pas- 
 sengers by this train were icebergs, who were 
 in the habit of coming down on it every year, in 
 order to reduce their weight by a little exercise ; 
 for they grow so very large and heavy up there 
 in the North every winter, that some sort of 
 treatment is really necessary to them when sum- 
 mer comes. I only call the icebergs the princi- 
 pal passengers, because they take up so much 
 room ; for thousands and millions of other trav- 
 ellers come with them, from the white bears 
 asleep on the bergs, and brought away quite 
 against their will, to the tiniest little creatures 
 rocking in the cradles of the ripples, or clinging 
 to the delicate branches of the sea-mosses. I 
 said you could see no sign of the great water 
 train from above : that was not quite true, for 
 many of the icebergs are tall enough to lift their 
 heads far up into the air, and shine with a 
 cold, glittering splendor in the sunlight ; and 
 you can tell, by the course in which they sail,
 
 SEA- LIFE 67 
 
 which way the train is going deep down in the 
 sea. 
 
 The star-fish took passage on this train. He 
 didn't start at the beginning of the road, but 
 got in at one of the way-stations somewhere off 
 Cape Cod, fell in with some friends going South, 
 and had altogether a pleasant trip of it. No 
 wearisome stopping-places to feed either engine 
 or passengers ; for this train moves by a power 
 that needs no feeding on the way, and the pas- 
 sengers are much in the habit of eating their 
 fellow-travellers by way of frequent luncheons. 
 
 In the course of a few weeks, our five-fingered 
 traveller is safely dropped in the Caribbean Sea ; 
 and, if you do not know where that sea is, I wish 
 you would take your map of North America and 
 find it, and then you can see the course of the 
 journey, and understand the story better. This 
 Caribbean Sea is as full of mountains as New 
 Hampshire and Vermont are ; but none of them 
 have caps of snow like that which Mount Wash- 
 ington sometimes wears, and some of them are 
 built up in a very odd way, as you will presently 
 see.
 
 68 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 Now the star-fish is floating in the warm, soft 
 water among the mountains, turning up first one 
 eye and then another to see the wonders about 
 him, or looking all around, before and behind and 
 both sides at once, as you can't do, if you try 
 ever so hard, while his fifth eye is on the look- 
 out for sharks, besides ; and he meets with a soft 
 little body, much smaller than himself, and not 
 half so handsomely dressed, who invites him to 
 visit her relatives, who live by millions in this 
 mountain region. " And come quickly, if you 
 please," she says, "for I begin to feel as if I 
 must fix myself somewhere ; and I should like, if 
 possible, to settle down near my brothers and 
 sisters on the Roncador Bank."
 
 SEA-LIFE 69 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CORALTOWN ON RONCADOR BANK. 
 
 WHERE is Roncador Bank, and who -are the 
 little settlers there ? If you want me to answer 
 this question, you must go back with me, or 
 rather think back with me, over many thousands 
 of years ; and, looking into this same Caribbean 
 Sea, we shall find in its south-western part a little 
 hill formed of mud and sand, and reaching not 
 nearly so high as the top of the water. Not far 
 from it float some little, soft, jelly-like bodies, 
 exactly resembling the one who spoke to the star- 
 fish just now. They are emigrants looking for 
 a new home. They seem to take a fancy to this 
 hill, and fix themselves on bits of rock along its 
 base, until, as more and more of them come, they 
 form a circle around it, and the hill stands up in 
 the middle, while far above the whole blue waves 
 are tossing in the sunlight.
 
 /O STORfES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 How do you like this little circular town seen 
 in the picture ? It is the beginning of Coraltown, 
 just as the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth 
 was the beginning of Massachusetts. Now we 
 will see how it grows. First of all, notice this 
 curious fact, that each settler, after once choosing 
 a home, never after 
 stirs from that spot ; 
 ~: but, from day to day, 
 fastens himself more 
 and more firmly to the 
 rock where he first 
 stuck. The part of his body touching the rock 
 hardens into stone, and as the months and years 
 go by, the sides of his body, too, turn to stone ; 
 and yet he is still alive, eating all the time with 
 a little mouth at his top, taking in the sea-water 
 without a strainer, and getting consequently tiny 
 bits of lime in it, which, once taken in, go to 
 build up the little body into a sort of lime- 
 stone castle; just as if one of the knights in 
 armor, of whom we read in old stories, had, 
 instead of putting on his steel corselet and 
 helmet and breastplate, turned his own flesh and
 
 SEA-LIFE 
 
 bones into armor. How safe he would be! So 
 these inhabitants of Coraltown were safe from all 
 the fishes and other fierce devourers of little sea 
 creatures (for who wants to swallow a mail-clad 
 warrior, however small ?) ; 
 and their settlement was 
 undisturbed, and grew 
 from year to year, until 
 it formed a pretty high 
 wall. 
 
 But, before going any 
 farther, you may like to 
 know that these settlers 
 were all of the polyp fam- 
 ily : fathers and mothers, 
 brothers and sisters, uncles 
 and aunts, all were 
 polyps. And this is the way their families in- 
 creased : after the first comers were fairly settled, 
 and pretty thoroughly turned to stone, little buds, 
 looking somewhat like the smallest leaf-buds of 
 the spring-time, began to grow out of their edges. 
 These were their children, at least one kind of 
 their children ; for they had yet another kind also,
 
 72 STORfES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 coming from eggs, and floating off in the water 
 like the first settlers. These latter we might call 
 the free children or wanderers, while the former 
 could be named the fixed children. But even 
 the wanderers come back after a short time, and 
 settle beside their parents, as you remember the 
 one who met the star-fish was about to do. 
 
 It was not very easy for you or me to think 
 back so many thousand years to the very begin 
 ning of Coraltown, nor is it less difficult to 
 .realize how many, many years were passing while 
 the little town grew, even as far as I have told 
 you. 
 
 The old great-grandfathers and great-grand 
 mothers had died, but they left their stone 
 bodies still standing, as a support and assistance 
 to their descendants who had built above them ; 
 and the walls had risen, not like walls of common 
 stone or brick, but all alive and busy building 
 themselves, day after day, and year after year, 
 until now, at the time of the star-fish's visit, 
 the topmost towers could sometimes catch a 
 gleam of sunlight when the tide was low ; and 
 when storms rolled the great waves that way,
 
 SEA-LIFE 73 
 
 they would dash against the -little castles, break- 
 ing themselves into snowy spray, and crumbling 
 away at the same time the tiny walls that had 
 been the polyps' work of years. Do you think 
 that was too bad, and quite, discouraging to the 
 workers. It does seem so ; but you will see how 
 the good God, who is their loving Father just the 
 same as he is ours, had a grand purpose in 
 letting the waves break down their houses, just 
 as he always does in all the disappointments he 
 sends to us. Wait till you finish the story, and 
 tell me if you don't think so. 
 
 And now let us see what the star-fish thought 
 of the little town and its inhabitants. "Ah, 
 these are your houses ! " he said. " Why don't 
 you come out of them, and travel about to see 
 the world ? " " These are not our houses, but 
 ourselves," answered the polyps ; " we can't come 
 out, and we don't want to. We are here to 
 build, and building is all we care to do ; as for 
 seeing the world, that is all very well for those 
 who have eyes, but we have none." 
 
 Then the star-fish turned away in contempt 
 from such creatures, "people of neither taste
 
 74 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 nor ability, no eyes, no feet, no water-strainers ; 
 poor little useless things, what good are they in 
 the world, with their stupid, blind building of 
 which they think so much?" And he worked 
 himself off into a. branch water-train that was 
 setting that way, and, without so much as 
 bidding the polyps good-by, turned his back upon 
 Coraltown, and presently found a fellow-passenger 
 fine enough to absorb all his attention, a 
 passenger, I say, but we shall find it rather 
 a group of passengers in their own pretty boat ; 
 some curled in spiral coils, some trailing like 
 little swimmers behind, some snugly ensconced 
 inside, but all of such brilliant colors and gay 
 bearing that even the star-fish felt his inferiority; 
 and, wishing to make friends with so fine a 
 neighbor, he whirled a tempting morsel of food 
 towards one of the swimming party, and politely 
 offered it to him. " No, I thank you," replied 
 the swimmer, " I don't eat ; my sister does the 
 eating, I only swim." Turning to another of 
 the gay company with the same offer, he was 
 answered, " Thank you, the eaters are at the 
 other side; I only lay eggs." "What strange
 
 SEA-LIFE 75 
 
 people ! " thought the star-fish ; but, with all his 
 learning, he didn't know every thing, and had 
 never heard how people sometimes live in com- 
 munities, and divide the work as suits their 
 fancy. 
 
 While we leave him wondering, let us go back 
 to Coraltown. The crumbling bits, beaten off by 
 the waves, floated about, rilling all the chinks 
 of the wall, while the rough edges at the top 
 caught long ribbons of seaweed, and sometimes 
 drifting wood from wrecked vessels, and then the 
 sea washed up sand in great heaps against 
 the walls, building buttresses for them. Do you 
 know what buttresses are ? If you don't, I will 
 leave you to find out. And the polyps, who do 
 not know how to live in the light and air, had 
 all died ; or those who were wanderers had 
 emigrated to some new place. Poor little things, 
 their useless lives had ended, and what good had 
 they done in the world ?
 
 76 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LITTLE SUNSHINE. 
 
 AND now let us look at Coraltown once more. 
 It is the first day of June of 1865. The sun is 
 low in the West, and lights up the crests of the 
 long lines of breakers that are everywhere 
 curling and dashing among the topmost turrets 
 of the coral walls. But here is something new 
 and strange indeed for this region ; along one of 
 the ledges of rock, fitted as it were into a cradle, 
 lies the great steamship "Golden Rule," a vessel 
 full two hundred and fifty feet long, and holding 
 six or seven hundred people. Her masts are 
 gone, and so are the tall chimneys from which 
 the smoke of her engine used to rise like a cloud 
 The rocks have torn a great hole through her 
 strong planks, and the water is washing in ; while 
 the biggest waves that roll that way lift them-
 
 SEA-LIFE 77 
 
 selves in mountainous curves, and sweep over the 
 deck. 
 
 This fine, great vessel sailed out of New York 
 harbor a week ago to carry all these people to 
 Greytown, on their way to California ; and here 
 she is now at Coraltown instead of Greytown, 
 and the poor people, nearly a hundred miles away 
 from land, are waiting through the weary hours, 
 while they see the ocean swallowing up their 
 vessel, breaking it, and tearing it to pieces, and 
 they do not know how soon they may find them- 
 selves drifting in the sea. But, although they 
 may be a hundred miles from land, they are just 
 as near. to God as they ever were ; and he is even 
 at this moment taking most loving care of them. 
 
 On the more sheltered parts of the deck are 
 men and women, holding on by ropes and bul- 
 warks : they are all looking one way out over 
 the water. What are they watching for? See, 
 it comes now in sight, only a black speck in 
 the golden path of the sunlight ! No, it is a boat 
 sent out two hours ago to search for some island 
 where the people might find refuge when the 
 ship should go to pieces. Do you wonder that
 
 7 8 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 the men and women are watching eagerly ? 
 Look ! it has reached the outer ledge of rock. 
 The men spring out of it, waving their hats, and 
 shouting " Success ; " and the men on board 
 answer with a loud hurrah, while the women 
 cannot keep back their tears. What land have 
 they discovered ? You could hardly call it land. 
 It is only a larger ledge of coral, built up just 
 out of reach of the waves, its crevices filled in 
 firmly with broken bits of rock and drifts of 
 sand ; but it seems to-day, to these shipwrecked 
 people, more beautiful than the loveliest woods 
 and meadows do to you and me. 
 
 It would be too long a story if I should tell 
 you how the people were moved from the wreck 
 to this little harbor of refuge, lowered over the 
 vessel's side with ropes, taken first to a raft 
 which had been made of broken parts of the 
 vessel, and the next day in little boats to the rocky 
 island ; but you can make a picture in your mind 
 of the boats full of people, and the sailors row- 
 ing through the breakers, and the great sea- 
 birds coming to meet their strange visitors, 
 peering curiously at them, as if they wondered
 
 SEA- LIFE 79 
 
 what new kind of creatures were these, without 
 wings or beaks. And you must see in the very 
 first boat little May Warner, three years and a 
 half old, with her sunny hair all wet with spray, 
 and her blue eyes wide open to see all the won- 
 ders about her. For May doesn't know what 
 danger is : even while on the wreck, she clapped 
 her little hands in delight to see the great curl- 
 ing crests of the waves ; and now she is singing 
 her merry songs to the sea-birds, and laughing 
 in their funny faces, and fairly shouting with joy, 
 as, at landing, she rides to the shore perched 
 high on the shoulder of sailor Jack, while he 
 wades knee-deep through the water. 
 
 So we have come to a second settlement of 
 Coraltown : first the polyps ; then the men, 
 women, and children. Do you see how the 
 good Father teaches all his creatures to help 
 each other ? Here the tiny polyps have built an 
 island for people who are so much larger and 
 stronger than themselves, and the seeming de- 
 struction of their upper walls was only a better 
 preparation for the reception of these distin- 
 guished visitors. The birds, too, are helping
 
 80 STOX/ES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 them to food, for every little cave and shelf in 
 the rock is full of eggs. And now should you 
 like to see how little May Warner helps them 
 in even a better way ? 
 
 Did you ever fall asleep on the floor, and, 
 waking, find yourself aching and stiff because it 
 was so hard ? Then you know, in part, what hard 
 beds rocks make. And in a hot, sunny day, 
 haven't you often been glad to keep under the 
 trees, or even to stay in the house for shade? 
 Then you can understand a little how hot it must 
 have been on Roncador Island, where there were 
 no trees nor houses. And haven't you some- 
 times, when you were very hot and tired and 
 hungry, and had, perhaps, also been kept waiting 
 a long hour for somebody who didn't come, 
 haven't you felt a little cross and fretful and 
 impatient, so that nothing seemed pleasant to 
 you, and you seemed pleasant to nobody ? Now, 
 shouldn't you think there was great danger that 
 these people on the island, in the hot sun, tired, 
 hungry, and waiting, waiting, day and night, for 
 some vessel to come and take them to their 
 homes again, and not feeling at all sure that
 
 SEA-LIFE 8 1 
 
 any such vessel would ever come, shouldn't 
 you think there was danger of their becoming 
 cross and fretful and impatient ? And if one 
 begins to say, " Oh, how tired I am, and how 
 hard the rocks are, and how little dinner I have 
 had, and how hot the sun is, and what shall we 
 ever do waiting here so long, and how shall 
 we ever get home again ! " don't you see that 
 all would begin to be discouraged ? And some- 
 times on this island it did happen just so : first 
 one would be discouraged, and then another ; 
 and as soon as you begin to feel in this way, 
 you know at once every thing grows even worse 
 than it was before, the sun feels hotter, the 
 rocks harder, the water tastes more disagreeably, 
 and the crab's claws less palatable. But in the 
 midst of all the trouble, May would come tripping 
 over the rocks, a little sunburnt girl now, with 
 tattered clothes and bare feet, and she would 
 bring a pretty pink conch-shell or the lovely rose- 
 colored sea-mosses, and tell her funny little story 
 of where she found them. The discontented 
 people would gather around her : she would give 
 a sailor kiss to one, and a French kiss to another,
 
 82 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 and, best of all, a Yankee kiss, with both arms 
 round his neck, to her own dear father ; and then, 
 somehow or other, the discontent and trouble 
 would be gone, for a little while at least, just 
 as a cloud sometimes seems to melt away in the 
 sunshine ; and so May Warner earned the name 
 of " Little Sunshine." 
 
 If anybody had picked up driftwood enough to 
 make a fire, and could get an old battered kettle 
 and some water to make a soup of shell-fish, 
 " Little Sunshine " must be invited to dinner, for 
 half the enjoyment would be wanting without 
 her. 
 
 If a great black cloud came up threatening a 
 shower, the roughest man on the island forgot 
 his own discomfort, in making a tent to keep 
 " Little Sunshine " safe from the rain. And so, 
 in a thousand ways, she cheered the weary days, 
 making everybody happier for having her there. 
 
 Do you think there are any children who would 
 have made the people less happy by being there ? 
 who would have complained and fretted, and been 
 selfish and disagreeable ?
 
 SEA-LIFE 83 
 
 Ten days go by, so slowly that they seem more 
 like weeks or months than like days. The people 
 have suffered from the rain, from heat, from want 
 of food. They are very weak now ; some of them 
 can hardly stand. Can you imagine how they 
 feel, when, in the early morning, two great gun- 
 boats come in sight, making straight for their 
 island as fast as the strong steam-engines will 
 take them ? Can you think how tenderly and 
 carefully they are taken on board, fed with broth 
 and wine, and nursed back into health and 
 strength ? And do not forget the little treasures 
 that go in May's pocket, the bits of coral, the 
 tinted sea-^shells, and ruby-colored mosses ; and 
 nested among them all, and chief in her regard, 
 a little five-fingered star, spiny and dry, but still 
 showing a crimson coat, and dots which mark 
 the places of five eyes, and a little scarlet water- 
 strainer, now of no further use to the owner. 
 Do you remember our old friend the star-fish? 
 Well, this is his great-great-great-great-great- 
 grandchild. In a week or two more, the rescued 
 people have all reached California, and gone their
 
 84 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 separate ways, never to meet again. But all 
 carry in their hearts the memory of " Little Sun- 
 shine," who lightened their troubles, and cheered 
 their darkest days.
 
 WHAT THE FROST GIANTS DID TO 
 NANNIE'S RUN
 
 WHAT THE FROST GIANTS DID TO 
 
 NANNIE'S RUN 
 
 THE FROST GIANTS 
 
 Do you believe in giants? No, do you say? 
 Well, listen to my story, which is a really true 
 one, and then answer my question. 
 
 Many hundreds of years ago, certain people 
 who lived in the North, and were therefore called 
 Northmen, had a strange idea of the form and 
 situation of the earth : they thought it was a 
 flat, circular piece of land, surrounded by a great 
 ocean ; and that this ocean was again surrounded 
 by a wall of snow-covered mountains, where lived 
 the race of Frost Giants. 
 
 I have seen a pretty picture of this world of 
 theirs, with a lovely rainbow bridge arching up 
 over the sea to the earth, and a great coiled 
 serpent, holding his tail in his mouth, lying in 
 
 87
 
 88 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 mid-ocean like a ring around the land. Perhaps 
 you will some day read about it all, but at 
 present we have only to do with the Frost 
 Giants ; for I want to tell you, that, although no 
 one now thinks of believing about the serpent 
 or the flat earth or the rainbow bridge, yet the 
 Frost Giants still live, and their home is really 
 among the mountains. 
 
 You may call them by what name you like, 
 and we may all know certainly that they are not 
 what the old Northmen believed them to be, 
 but are God's workmen, a part of Nature's 
 family, employed to work in the great garden 
 of the world ; but, whenever we look at their 
 work, we cannot fail to admit that to do it needed 
 a giant's strength, and so they deserve their 
 title. 
 
 Have you sometimes seen great bowlder stones, 
 as big as a small house, that stand alone by 
 themselves in some field, or on some seashore, 
 where no other rocks are near? Well, the Frost 
 Giants carried these bowlders about, and dropped 
 them down miles away from their homes, as you 
 might take a pocketful of pebbles, and drop
 
 THE FROST GIANTS 89 
 
 them along the road as you walk. Sometimes 
 they roll great rocks down the mountain-sides, 
 playing a desperate game of ball with each other. 
 Sometimes they are sent to make a bridge over 
 Niagara Fall's, or to build a dam across a mountain 
 torrent in an hour's time. Now and then they 
 have to rake off a steep mountain-side as you 
 might a garden-bed, and sometimes to bury a 
 whole village so quickly that the poor inhabitants 
 do not know what strange hand brought such 
 sudden destruction upon them. Their deeds 
 often seem to be cruel, and we cannot under- 
 stand their meaning ; but we shall some time 
 know that the loving Father who sent them 
 orders nothing for our hurt, but has always a 
 a loving purpose, though it may be hidden. 
 
 While I thus introduce to you the Frost Giants, 
 let me also present their tiny brethren and 
 sisters, the Frost Fairies, who always accompany 
 them on their expeditions ; and, however terrible 
 is the deed that has to be done, these little 
 people adorn it with the most lovely handiwork, 
 tiny flowers and crystals and veils of delicate 
 lace-work, fringes and spangles and star-work
 
 90 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 and carving ; so that nothing is so hard and ugly 
 and bare that they cannot beautify it. 
 
 Now that you are introduced, you will perhaps 
 like to join a Frost party that started out to 
 work, one day in the early spring of 1861, from 
 their homes among the Olympic Mountains.
 
 THE FROST GIANTS 91 
 
 NANNIE'S RUN 
 
 CAN you imagine a beautiful oval-shaped bay, 
 almost encircled by a long arm of sand stretch- 
 ing out from the mainland ? In its deep water 
 the largest vessels might ride at anchor, but at 
 the time of my story a lonelier place could 
 scarcely be found. Now and then Indian canoes 
 glided over the water, and at long intervals some 
 vessel from the great island away yonder to the 
 North visited the little settlement upon the shore 
 of the bay. It is indeed a very little settlement, 
 a 'few houses clustered together upon the sandy 
 beach close to the blue water ; behind the houses 
 rises a cliff crowned with great fir-trees, standing 
 tall and dark in thick ranks, making a dense 
 forest ; and beyond this forest, cold, snow- 
 covered mountains lift their peaks against the 
 sky, a fitting home for the Frost Giants. 
 
 Three streams, straying from the far-away 
 mountains, and fed by their melted snows and
 
 92 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 hidden springs, find their way through the forest, 
 leap and tumble over the cliff, and, passing 
 through the little settlement, reach the sea. 
 The people who live here call these little streams 
 runs, and one of them is Nannie's Run. 
 
 And, now, who is Nannie ? Why, Nannie is 
 Nannie Dwight, a little girl not yet five years 
 old, who lives in the small square house standing 
 under the cliff. She sits even now on the door- 
 step, and her red dress looks like one gay flower 
 brightening the sombre shadow of the firs. Her 
 father and mother came here to live when she 
 was but a baby, and before there was a single 
 house built in the place ; and it is out of 
 compliment to her that one of the streams has 
 been named Nannie's Run. 
 
 While Nannie sits on the doorstep, and looks 
 out at the sea, watching for the vessel that will 
 bring her father home from Victoria, we will go 
 through the forest, and up -the mountain-sides, 
 till we find the home of. the Frost Giants, and 
 see what they are about to-day. 
 
 They have been working all winter, but not 
 quite so busily as now ; for since yesterday they
 
 THE FROST GIANTS 93 
 
 have cracked that big rock in two, and dug the 
 great cave under the hill, and now they are 
 gathered in council on the mountain-side that 
 overlooks a dashing little stream. As we fol- 
 lowed this stream from the seashore, we happen 
 to know that it is no other than Nannie's Run. 
 And as we have already begun to care for the 
 little girl, and therefore for her namesake, we are 
 anxious to know what the giants think of doing. 
 We have not long to wait before we shall see, 
 and hear too ; for a great creaking and cracking 
 begins, and, while we gaze astonished, the 
 mountain-side begins to slide, and presently, with 
 a rush and a roar, dashes into the stream, and 
 chokes it with a huge dam of earth and rocks 
 and trees. 
 
 What will the stream do now ? For a moment 
 the water leaps into the air, all foam and sparkle, 
 as if it would jump over the barrier, and find its 
 way to the sea at any rate. But this proves 
 entirely unsuccessful ; and at last, after whirling 
 and tumbling, trying to creep under; trying to 
 leap over, it settles itself quietly in its prison, 
 
 as if to think about the matter. 
 i 
 
 I
 
 9-f STOR/KX MOl'Ul-.R XATURE TOLD 
 
 Now, if you will stay and watch it day after 
 day, you will see what good result will come 
 from this waiting ; for every hour more and more 
 water is running to its aid, and, as its forces 
 increase, we begin to feel sure, that, although it 
 can neither pass over nor under, it will some day 
 be strong enough to break through the Frost 
 Giants' dam. And the day comes at last, when, 
 summoning all its waters to the attack, it makes 
 a breach in the great earth wall, and in a strong, 
 grand column, as high as this room, marches 
 away towards the sea. 
 
 As we have the wings of thought to travel 
 with, let us hurry back to the settlement, and 
 see where Nannie is now, and tell the people, 
 if we only can, what a wall of water is marching 
 down upon them ; for you see the little channel 
 that used to hold Nannie's Run is not a quarter 
 large enough for this torrent, that has gathered so 
 long behind the dam. 
 
 Peep in at the window, and see how Nannie 
 stands at the kitchen table, cutting out little 
 cakes from a bit of dough that her mother has 
 given her ; she is all absorbed in her play, and
 
 THE FROST GIANTS 95 
 
 her mother has gone to look into the oven at the 
 nicely browning loaves. 
 
 Oh, don't we wish the house had been built 
 up on the cliff among the fir-trees, safe above 
 the reach of the water ! But, alas ! here it 
 stands, just in the path that the torrent will 
 take, and we have no power to tell of the danger 
 that is approaching. 
 
 Mrs. Dwight turns from the oven, and, passing 
 the window on her way to the table, suddenly 
 sees the great wall of water only a few rods 
 from her house. With one step she reaches the 
 bedroom, seizes trfe blankets from the bed, wraps 
 Nannie in them, and with the little girl on one 
 arm, grasps Frankie's hand, and, telling Harry to 
 run beside her, opens the door nearest the cliff, 
 and almost flies up its steep side. 
 
 Five minutes afterwards, sitting breathless on 
 the roots of an old tree, with her children safe 
 beside her, she sees the whole shore covered 
 with surging water, and the houses swept into 
 the bay, tossing and drifting there like boats in 
 a stormy sea. And this is what the Frost Giants 
 did to Nannie's Run.
 
 96 S TORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 THE INDIANS 
 
 WHAT will Nannie do now ? Here in our New- 
 England towns it would seem hard enough to have 
 one's house swept away before one's eyes ; but 
 then you know you could take the next train of 
 cars, and go to your aunt in Boston, or your 
 uncle in New York, to stay until a new house 
 could be prepared for you. But here is Nannie 
 hundreds and thousands of mfles away from any 
 such help; for there are not only no railroads 
 to travel upon, but not even common roads 
 nor horses nor wagons ; nevertheless, there are 
 neighbors who will bring help. 
 
 You remember reading in your history, how, 
 when our great-great-grandfathers came to this 
 country to live, they found it occupied by Indians. 
 The Indians are all gone from our part of the 
 country now; but out in the far North- West, 
 where Nannie lives, they still have their wigwams 
 ind canoes, still dress in blankets, and wear
 
 THE FROST GIANTS 97 
 
 feathers on their heads, and in that particular part 
 of the country lives a tribe called the Flatheads. 
 They take this odd name because of a fashion 
 they have of binding a board upon the top of a 
 child's head, while he is yet very young, in order 
 that he may grow up with a flattened head, which 
 is considered a mark of beauty among these 
 savages, just as small feet are so considered 
 among the Chinese, you know. 
 
 The Flatheads are Nannie's only neighbors, 
 and perhaps you would consider them rather 
 undesirable friends ; but when I tell you how 
 they came at once with blankets and food, and 
 all sorts of friendly offers of shelter and help, 
 you will think that some white people might well 
 take a lesson from them. 
 
 They had been in the habit of bringing 
 venison and salmon to the settlement for sale ; 
 and when Nannie's mother tells them that she 
 has no longer any money to buy, they say, " Oh, 
 no, it is a potlach ! " which in their language 
 mean a present. 
 
 Happily the warm weather is approaching ; and 
 a little girl who has lived out of doors so much
 
 98 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 does not find it unsafe to sleep in the hammock 
 which Hunter has slung for her among the 
 trees, or even on the ground, rolled in an Indian 
 blanket ; and when her shoes wear out, she can 
 safely run barefooted in the woods or on the 
 sand. 
 
 Before many weeks have passed, some of the 
 tall fir-trees are cut down, and a new house is 
 built, this time safely perched on top of the 
 cliff ; and, so far as I know, the Frost Giants 
 have never succeeded in touching it.
 
 HOW QUERCUS ALBA WENT TO EXPLORE 
 THE UNDER-WORLD: WHAT CAME OF IT
 
 HOW QUERCUS ALBA WENT TO EXPLORE 
 THE UNDER-WORLD: WHAT CAME OF IT 
 
 QUERCUS ALBA lay on the ground, looking up 
 at the sky. He lay in a little brown, rustic cradle 
 which would be pretty for any baby, but was spe- 
 cially becoming to his shining, bronzed complexion ; 
 for although his name, Alba, is the Latin word for 
 white, he did not belong to the white race. He 
 was trying to play with his cousins Coccinea and 
 Rubra ; but they were two or three yards away 
 from him, and not one of the three dared to roll 
 any distance, for fear of rolling out of his cradle : 
 so it wasn't a lively play, as you may easily imagine. 
 Presently Rubra, who was a sturdy little fellow, 
 hardly afraid of any thing, summoned courage to 
 roll full half a yard, and, having come within speak- 
 ing distance, began to" tell how his elder brother 
 had, that very morning, started on the grand
 
 102 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 underground tour, which to the Quercus family is 
 what going to Europe would be for you and me. 
 Coccinea thought the account very stupid ; said 
 his brothers had all been, and he should go too 
 sometime, he supposed ; and, giving a little shrug 
 of his shoulders which set his cradle rocking, fell 
 asleep in the very face of his visitors. Not so 
 Alba: this was all news to him, grand news. 
 He was young and inexperienced, and, moreover, 
 full of roving fancies : so he lifted his head as far 
 as he dared, nodded delightedly as Rubra described 
 the departure, and, when his cousin ceased speak- 
 ing, asked eagerly, " And what will he do there ? " 
 
 "Do?" said Rubra, "do? Why, he will do 
 just what everybody else does who goes on the 
 grand tour. What a foolish fellow you are, to ask 
 such a question ! " 
 
 Now, this was no answer at all, as you see 
 plainly ; and yet little Alba was quite abashed by 
 it, and dared not push the question further for 
 fear of displaying his ignorance, never thinking 
 that we children are not born with our heads full 
 of information on all subjects, and that the only 
 way to fill them is to push our questions until we
 
 QUERCUS ALBA 103 
 
 are utterly satisfied with the. answers ; and that 
 no one has reason to feel ashamed of ignorance 
 which is not now his own fault, but will soon 
 become so if he hushes his questions for fear of 
 showing it. 
 
 Here Alba made his first mistake. There is 
 only one way to correct a mistake of this kind ; 
 and it is so excellent a way, that it even brings 
 you out at the end wiser than the other course 
 could have done. Alba, I am happy to say, re- 
 solved at once on this course. " If," said he, 
 " Rubra does not choose to tell me about the grand 
 tour, I will go and see for myself." It was a brave 
 resolve for a little fellow like him. He lost no 
 time in preparing to carry it out ; but, on pushing 
 against the gate that led to the underground road, 
 he found that the frost had fastened it securely, 
 and he must wait for a warmer day. In the mean 
 time, afraid to ask any more questions, he yet kept 
 his ears open to gather any scraps of information 
 that might be useful for his journey. 
 
 Listening ears can always hear ; and Alba very 
 soon began to learn, from the old trees overhead, 
 from the dry rustling leaves around him, and from
 
 104 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 the little chipping-birds that chatted together 
 in the sunshine. Some said the only advantage 
 of the grand tour was to make one a perfect and 
 accomplished gentleman ; others, that all the use- 
 ful arts were taught abroad, and no one who 
 wished to improve the world in which he lived 
 would stay at home another year. Old grand- 
 father Rubra, standing tall and grand, and stretch- 
 ing his knotty arms, as if to give force to his 
 words, said, " Of all arts, the art of building is 
 the noblest, and that can only be learned by those 
 who take the grand tour ; therefore, all my boys 
 have been sent long ago, and already many of my 
 grandsons have followed them." 
 
 Then there was a whisper among the leaves : 
 " All very well, old Rubra ; but did any of your 
 sons or grandsons ever come back from the grand 
 tour ? " 
 
 There was no answer ; indeed, the leaves hadn't 
 spoken loudly enough for the old gentleman to 
 hear, for he was known to have a fiery temper, 
 and it was scarcely safe to offend him. But the 
 little brown chipping-birds said, one to another, 
 " No, no, no, they never came back ! they never 
 came back ! "
 
 QUERCUS ALBA 105 
 
 All this sent a chill through Alba's heart, but 
 
 he still held to his purpose ; and in the night a 
 
 warm and friendly rain melted the frozen gateway, 
 
 'and he boldly rolled out of his cradle forever, and, 
 
 slipping through the portal, was lost to sight. 
 
 His mother looked for her baby ; his brothers 
 and cousins rolled over and about, in search for 
 him. Rubra began to feel sorry for the last scorn- 
 ful words he had said, and would have petted his 
 little cousin with all his heart, if he could only 
 have had him once again ; but Alba was never 
 again seen by his old friends and companions.
 
 106 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 THE UNDER-WORLD 
 
 " How dark it is here, and how difficult for ona 
 to make his way through the thick atmosphere ! " 
 so thought little Alba, as he pushed and pushed 
 slowly into the soft mud. Presently a busy hum 
 sounded all about him ; and, becoming accus- 
 tomed to the darkness, he could see little forms 
 moving swiftly and industriously to and fro. 
 
 You children who live above, and play about 
 on the hillsides and in the woods, have no idea 
 what is going on all the while under your feet ; 
 how the dwarfs and the fairies are working there, 
 weaving moss carpets and grassblades, forming 
 and painting flowers and scarlet mushrooms, tend- 
 ing and nursing all manner of delicate things 
 which have yet to grow strong enough to push 
 up and see the outside life, and learn to bear its 
 cold winds, and rejoice in its sunshine. 
 
 While Alba was seeing all this, he was still 
 struggling on, but very slowly; for first he ran
 
 QUERCUS ALBA 107 
 
 against the strong root of an old tree, then 
 knocked his head upon a sharp stone, and finally, 
 bruised and sore, tired, and quite in despair, he 
 sighed a great sigh, arid declared he could go 
 no farther. At that, two odd little beings sprang 
 to his side ; the one brown as the earth itself, 
 with eyes like diamonds for brightness, and deft 
 little fingers, cunning in all works of skill. Pull- 
 ing off his wisp of a cap, and making a grotesque 
 little bow, he asked, " Will you take a guide for 
 the under-world tour?" "That I will," said 
 Alba, "for I no longer find myself able to move 
 a step." "Ha, ha!" laughed the dwarf, "of 
 course you can't move in that great body, the 
 ways are too narrow ; you must come out of 
 yourself before you can get on in this journey. 
 Put out your foot now, and I will show you where 
 to step." " Out of myself ? " cried Alba. " Why, 
 that is to die ! My foot, did you say ? I haven't 
 any feet ; I was born in a cradle, and always lived 
 in it until now, and could never do any thing but 
 rock and roll." 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" again laughed the dwarf, "hear 
 him talk ! This is the way with all of them. No
 
 108 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 feet, does he say ? Why, he has a thousand, if 
 he only knew it ; hands too, more than he can 
 count. Ask him, sister, and see what he will say 
 to you." 
 
 With that a soft little voice said cheerfully, 
 " Give me your hand, that I may lead you on 
 the upward part of your journey ; for, poor little 
 fellow, it is indeed true that you do not know 
 how to live out of your cradle, and we must show 
 you the way ! " 
 
 Encouraged by this kindly speech, Alba turned 
 a little towards the speaker, and was about to say 
 (as his mother had long ago taught him that he 
 should in all "difficulties), " I'll try," when a little 
 cracking noise startled the whole company ; and, 
 hardly knowing what he did, Alba thrust out, 
 through a slit in his shiny brown skin, a little 
 foot reaching downward to follow the dwarf's 
 lead, and a little hand extending upward, quickly 
 clasped by that of the fairy, who stood smiling 
 and lovely in her fair green garments, with a 
 tender, tiny grass-blade binding back her golden 
 hair. Oh, what a thrill went through Alba as he 
 felt this new possession, a hand and a foot ! A
 
 QUERCUS ALBA 109 
 
 thousand such, had they not said ? What it all 
 meant he could only wonder; but the one real 
 possession was at least certain, and in that he 
 began to feel that all things were possible. 
 
 And now shall we see where the dwarf led 
 him, and where the fairy, and what was actually 
 done in the underground tour? 
 
 The dwarf had need of his bright eyes and his 
 skilful hands ; for the soft, tiny foot intrusted to 
 him was a mere baby, that had to find its way 
 through a strange, dark world ; and, what was 
 more, it must not only be guided, but also fed 
 and tended carefully : so the bright eyes go 
 before, and the brown fingers dig out a roadway, 
 and the foot that has learned to trust its guide 
 utterly follows on. There is no longer any 
 danger : he runs against no rocks ; he loses his 
 way among no tangled roots ; and the hard earth 
 seems to open gently before him, leading him to 
 the fields where his own best food lies, and 
 to hidden springs of sweet, fresh water. 
 
 Do you wonder when I say the foot must be 
 fed ? Aren't your feet fed ? To be sure, your 
 feet have no mouths of their own ; but doesn't
 
 110 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 the mouth in your face eat for your whole body, 
 hands and feet, ears and eyes, f.nd all the rest ? 
 else how do they grow ? The only difference 
 here between you and Alba is, tha* his foot has 
 mouths of its own, and as it wander* on through 
 the earth, and finds any thing good for food, eats 
 both for itself and for the rest of the body ; for 
 I must tell you, that, as the little foot progresses, 
 it does not take the body with it, but only grows 
 longer and longer and longer, until, .while one end 
 remains at home fastened to the body, the other 
 end has travelled a distance, such as would be 
 counted miles by the atoms of people who live 
 in the under-world. And, moreover, the foot no 
 longer goes on alone : others have come by tens, 
 even by hundreds, to join it ; and Alba begins to 
 understand what the dwarf meant by thousands. 
 Thus the feet travel on, running some to this 
 side, some to that ; here digging through a bed 
 of clay, and there burying themselves in a soft 
 sand-hill, taking a mouthful of carbon here, and 
 of nitrogen there. But what are these two 
 strange articles of food ? Nothing at all like 
 bread and butter, you think. Different, indeed,
 
 QUERCUS ALBA 1 1 1 
 
 they seem ; but you will one day learn that bread 
 and butter are made in part of these very same 
 things, and they are just as useful to Alba as 
 your breakfast, dinner, and supper are to you. 
 For just as bread and butter, and other food, 
 build your body, so carbon and nitrogen are 
 going to build his ; and you will presently see 
 what a fine, large, strong body they can make. 
 Then, perhaps, you will be better able to under- 
 stand what they are. 
 
 Shall we leave the feet to travel their own way 
 for a while, and see where the fairy has led the 
 little hand?
 
 112 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 QUERCUS ALBA'S NEW SIGHT OF THE 
 UPPER-WORLD 
 
 IT was a soft, helpless, little baby hand. Its 
 folded fingers lay listlessly in the fairy's gentle 
 grasp. " Now we will go up," she said. He had 
 thought he was going down, and he had heard 
 the chipping-birds say he would never come back 
 again. But he had no will to resist the gentle 
 motion, which seemed, after all, to be exactly what 
 he wanted: so he presently found himself lifted 
 out of the dark earth, feeling the sunshine again, 
 and stirred by the breeze that rustled the dry 
 leaves that lay all about him. Here again were 
 all his old companions, the chipping-birds, his 
 cousins, old grandfather Rubra, and, best of all, 
 his dear mother. But the odd thing about it all 
 was, that nobody seemed to know him : even his 
 mother, though she stretched her arms towards 
 him, turned her head away, looking here and 
 there for her lost baby, and never seeing how
 
 QUERCUS ALBA 113 
 
 he stood gazing up into her face. Now he began 
 to understand why the chipping-birds said, "They 
 never came back ! they never came back ! " for 
 they truly came in so new a form that none of 
 their old friends recognized them. 
 
 Every thing that has hands wants to work ; 
 that is, hands are such excellent tools, that no 
 one who is the happy possessor of a pair is quite 
 happy until he uses them : so Alba began to 
 have a longing desire to build a stem, and lift 
 himself up among his neighbors. But what 
 should he build with? Here the little feet 
 answered promptly, " You want to build, do you ? 
 Well, here is carbon, the very best material ; 
 there is nothing like it for walls ; it makes the 
 most beautiful, firm wood. Wait a minute, and 
 we will send up some that we have been storing 
 for your use." 
 
 And the busy hands go to work, and the child 
 grows day by day. His body and limbs are 
 brown now, but his hands of a fine shining green. 
 And, having learned the use of carbon, these 
 busy hands undertake to gather it for themselves 
 out of the air about them, which is a great
 
 114 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 storehouse full of many materials that our eyes 
 cannot see. And he has also learned that to 
 grow and to build are indeed the same thing: 
 for his body is taking the form of a strong young 
 tree ; his branches are spreading for a roof over 
 the heads of a hundred delicate flowers, making 
 a home for many a bushy-tailed squirrel and 
 pleasant-voiced wood-bird. For, you see, whoever 
 builds cannot build for himself alone : all his 
 neighbors have the benefit of his work, and all 
 enjoy it together. 
 
 What at the first was so hard to attempt, 
 became grand and beautiful in the doing ; and 
 little Alba, instead of serving merely for a 
 squirrel's breakfast, as he might have done had 
 he not bravely ventured on his journey, stands 
 before us a noble tree, which is to live a hundred 
 years or more. 
 
 Do you want to know what kind of a tree ? 
 
 Well, Lillie, who studies Latin, will tell you 
 that Quercus means oak. And now can you 
 tell me what Alba's rustic cradle was, and who 
 were his cousins Rubra and Coccinea ?
 
 TREASURE- 
 BOXES
 
 TREASURE-BOXES 
 
 WE all have our treasure-boxes. Misers have 
 strong iron-bound chests full of gold ; stately 
 ladies, pearl inlaid caskets for their jewels ; and 
 even you and I, dear child, have our own. Your 
 little box with lock and key, that aunt Lucy 
 gave you, where you have kept for a long time 
 your choicest paper doll, the peacock with spun- 
 glass tail, and the robin's egg that we picked up 
 on the path under the great trees that windy 
 day last spring, that is your treasure-box. I no 
 less have mine ; and, if you will look with me, I 
 will show you how the trees and flowers have 
 theirs, and what is packed away in them. 
 
 Come out in the orchard this September day, 
 under the low-bowed peach-trees, where great 
 downy-cheeked peaches almost drop into our 
 hands. Sit on the grassy bank with me, and I 
 will show you the peach-tree's treas^ure^bbx. 
 
 "7
 
 Il8 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 What does the peach-tree regard as most 
 precious ? If it could speak in words, it would 
 tell you its seed is the one thing for which it 
 cares most ; for .which it has worked ever since 
 spring, storing food, and drinking in sunshine. 
 And it is so dear and valued, because, when the 
 peach-tree itself dies, this seed, its child, may 
 still live on, growing into a beautiful and fruitful 
 tree ; therefore, the mother tree cherishes her 
 seed as her greatest treasure, and has made for 
 it a casket more beautiful than Mrs. Williams's 
 sandal-wood jewel-box. 
 
 See the great crack where this peach broke 
 from the bough. We will pull it open ; this is 
 opening the cover of the outside casket. See 
 how rich was its outside color, but how wonder- 
 fully beautiful the deep crimson fibres which 
 cling about the hard shell inside. For this seed 
 cannot be trusted in a single covering ; moreover, 
 the inner box is locked securely, and, I am sorry 
 to say, we haven't the key : so, if I would show 
 you the inside, we must break the pretty box, 
 with its strong, ribbed walls, and then at last 
 we shall see what the peach-tree's treasure-box 
 holds.
 
 TREA SURE-BOXES 1 1 9 
 
 Here, too, are the apples, lying on the grass 
 at our feet ; we will cut one, for it too holds the 
 apple-tree's treasure. First comes the skin, rosy 
 and yellow, a pretty firm wrapping for the out- 
 side ; but it sometimes breaks, when a strong 
 wind tosses the apples to the ground, and some- 
 times the insects eat holes in it : so, if this were 
 the only covering, the treasure would hardly be 
 very safe. Therefore, next we come to the firm, 
 juicy flesh of the apple, seldom to be broken 
 through by a fall, not often eaten through by 
 insects ; but lest even this should fail, we come at 
 last, far in the middle, to horny sheaths, or cells, 
 built up together like a little fortress, surrounding 
 and protecting the brown, shining seeds, which 
 we reach in the very centre of all. 
 
 One thing more let us look at before we leave 
 the apple. Cut it horizontally through the 
 middle with a sharp knife, and try how thin and 
 smooth a slice you can make ; hold it up to the 
 light, and we shall see something very beautiful. 
 There in the centre of the round slice is the 
 delicate figure of a perfect apple-blossom, with 
 all its petals spread ; for it was that lovely pink-
 
 120 STORIES M 'OTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 and-white blossom from which the apple was 
 formed, a tiny green ball at first, which you may 
 see in the spring, if you look where the blossoms 
 have just fallen. As this little green apple grew, 
 it kept in its very heart always the image of the 
 fair blossom ; and now that the fruit has reached 
 this ripe perfection, we may still see the same 
 form. 
 
 The pears, too, the apricots and plums, you 
 may see for yourselves'; you do not need me to 
 tell their stories. 
 
 But come down to the garden, for there I have 
 some of the oddest and prettiest boxes to show. 
 The pease and beans have long canoes, satin-lined 
 and waterproof. On what voyage they are bound, 
 I cannot say. 
 
 The tall milk-weed that grew so fast all 
 summer, and threatened to over-run the garden, 
 now pays well for its lodging by the exquisite 
 treasure which its rough-covered, pale-green bag 
 holds. Press your thumb on its closed edges ; 
 for this casket opens with a spring, and, if it is 
 ripe and ready, it will unclose with a touch, arid 
 show you a little fish, with silver scales laid over
 
 TREA SURE-BOXES 1 2 1 
 
 a covering of long, silken threads, finer and more 
 delicate than any of the sewing-silk in your 
 mother's work-box. This silk is really a wing- 
 like float for each scale ; and the scales are seeds, 
 which will not stay upon the little fish, but long 
 to float away with their silken trails, and, alight- 
 ing here and there, cling and seek for a good 
 place to plant themselves. 
 
 See, too, how the poppy has provided herself 
 with a deep, round box of a delicate brown color ; 
 the carved lid might have been made by the Chi- 
 nese, it looks so much like their fine work. Full 
 to the brim, this box is. The poppy is rich in the 
 autumn ; brown seeds by the hundred, packed 
 away for another year's use. 
 
 Here are the balsams, touch-me-nots, we used 
 to call them when I was a child ; for, poor things, 
 so slightly have they locked up their treasure, 
 that even the baby's little finger will open the 
 rough-feeling oblong casket with a snap and a 
 spring, and send the jewels flying all over the 
 garden-bed, where you will scarcely be able to find 
 them again. 
 
 Roses have beautiful round, red globes to hold
 
 122 STORIES M OTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 their precious seeds ; and so firm and strong 
 are they, that the winter winds and snows even 
 do not break or open them. I have found them 
 dashed with sea-spray, or on dusty roadsides ; 
 everywhere strong and safe, making the dullest 
 day bright with their cheery color. 
 
 If we go to the wet meadows and stream-sides, 
 we shall find how the scarlet cardinal has packed 
 away its minute seeds in a pretty little box with 
 two or three partings inside ; and the cowslip has 
 a cluster of oval bags as full as they can hold. 
 
 Among the rocks, harebells have their tiny five- 
 parted chests ; and the columbine, its standing 
 group of narrow brown sacks, which show, if we 
 open them, hundreds of tiny seeds. 
 
 But in the woods, the oak has stored her treas- 
 ures in the acorn ; the chestnut, in its bur which 
 holds the nut so safely. The walnut and beech 
 trees have also their hard, safe caskets, and the 
 boys who go nutting know very well what is 
 inside. 
 
 Autumn is the time to open these treasures. 
 It takes all the spring and summer to prepare 
 them, and some even need all of September too,
 
 TREASURE-BOXES 1 2 3 
 
 before they are ready to open the little covers. 
 But go into the garden and orchard, into the 
 meadows and woods, and you have not far to look 
 before finding enough to prove that the plants, no 
 less than the children, have treasures to keep, and 
 often most charming boxes to keep them in.
 
 A PEEP INTO ONE OF GOD'S 
 STOREHOUSES
 
 A PEEP INTO ONE OF GOD'S 
 STOREHOUSES 
 
 ONCE there was a father who thought he would 
 build for his children a beautiful home, putting 
 into it every thing they could need or desire 
 throughout their lives. So he built the beautiful 
 house ; and any one just to look at the outside of 
 it would exclaim, How lovely ! For its roof was 
 a wide, blue dome like the sky, and the lofty 
 rooms had arching ceilings covered with tracery 
 of leaves and waving boughs. The floors were 
 carpeted with velvet, and the whole was lighted 
 with lamps that shone like stars from above. 
 The sweetest perfumes floated through the air, 
 while thousands of birds answered the music of 
 fountains with their songs. And yet, when you 
 have seen all this, you have not seen the best 
 part of it : for the house has been so wonderfully 
 
 127
 
 128 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 contrived, that it is full of mysterious closets, 
 storehouses, and secret drawers, all locked by 
 magic keys, or fastened by concealed springs ; 
 and each one is filled with something precious or 
 useful or beautiful to look at, piles upon piles, 
 and heaps upon heaps of wonderful stores. Every 
 thing that the children could want, or dream of 
 wanting, is laid up here ; but yet they are not 
 to be told any thing about it. They are to be 
 put into this delightful home, and left to find 
 it all out for themselves. 
 
 At first, you know, they will only play. They 
 will roll on the soft carpets, and listen to the 
 fountain and the birds, and wander from room 
 to room to see new beauties everywhere ; but 
 some day a boy, full of curiosity, prying here and 
 there into nooks and corners, will touch one of 
 the hidden springs ; a door will fly open, and one 
 storehouse of treasures will be revealed. How he 
 will shout, and call upon his brothers and sisters 
 to admire with him ; how they will pull out the 
 treasures, and try to learn how to use the new 
 and strange materials. What did my father mean 
 this for ? Why did he give that so odd a shape,
 
 ONE OF GOD'S STOREHOUSES 129 
 
 or so strange a covering ? And so through many 
 questions, and many experiments, they learn at 
 last how to use the contents of this one store- 
 house. But do you imagine that sensible children, 
 after one such discovery, would rest satisfied ? 
 Of course they would explore and explore ; try 
 every panel, and press every spring, until, one 
 by one, all the closets should be opened, and all 
 the treasures brought out. And then how could 
 they show their gratitude to the dear father who 
 had taken such pains to prepare this wonderful 
 house for them ? The least they could do would 
 be to try to use every thing for the purposes 
 intended, and not to destroy or injure any of 
 the precious gifts prepared so lovingly for their 
 use. 
 
 Now, God, our loving Father, has made for us, 
 for you and for me and for little Madge and 
 Jenny, and for all the grown people and children 
 too, just such a house. It is this earth on which 
 we live. You can see the blue roof, and the 
 arched ceilings of the rooms, with their canopy 
 of leaves and drooping boughs, and the velvet- 
 covered floors, and the lights and birds and foun-
 
 130 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 tains ; but do you know any of the secret closets ? 
 Have you found the key or spring of a single 
 one, or been called by your mother or father or 
 brother or sister to take a peep into one of them ? 
 
 If you have not, perhaps you would like to go 
 with me to examine one that was opened a good 
 many years ago, but contains such valuable things 
 that the uses of all of them have not yet been 
 found out, and their beauty is just beginning to 
 be known. 
 
 The doorway of this storehouse lies in the side 
 of a hill. It is twice as wide as the great barn- 
 door where the hay-carts are driven in ; and two 
 railroad-tracks run out at it, side by side, with a 
 little foot-path between them. The entrance is 
 light, because it opens so wide ; but we can see 
 that the floor slopes downward, and the way looks 
 dark and narrow before us. We shall need a 
 guide; and here comes one, a rough-looking 
 man, with smutty clothes, and an odd little lamp 
 covered with wire gauze, fastened to the front of 
 his cap. He is one of the workmen employed 
 to bring the treasures out of this dark storehouse ; 
 and he will show us, by the light of his lamp,
 
 ONE OF GOD'S STOREHOUSES 131 
 
 some of the wonders of the place. Walk down 
 the sloping foot-path now, and be careful to keep 
 out of the way of the little cars that are coming 
 and going on each side of you, loaded on one 
 side, and empty on the other, and seeming to 
 run up and down by themselves. But you will 
 find that they are really pulled and pushed by 
 an engine that stands outside the doorway and 
 reaches them by long chains. At last we reach 
 the foot of the slope ; and, as our eyes become 
 accustomed to the faint light, we can see pas- 
 sages leading to the right and the left, and square 
 chambers cut out in the solid hill. So this great 
 green hill, upon which you might run or play, is 
 inside like what I think some of those large ant- 
 hills must be, traversed by galleries, and full of 
 rooms and long passages. All about we see men 
 like our guide, working by the light of their little 
 lamps. We hear the echoing sound of the tools ; 
 and we see great blocks and heaps that they have 
 broken away, and loaded into little cars that stand 
 ready, here and there, to be drawn by mules to 
 the foot of the slope. 
 
 Now, are you curious to know what this treasure
 
 132 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 is ? Have you seen already that it is only coal, 
 and do you wonder that I think it is so precious ? 
 Look a little closer, while our guide lets the 
 light of his lamp fall upon the black wall at 
 your side. Do you see the delicate tracery of 
 ferns, more beautiful than the fairest drawing. 
 See, beneath your feet is the marking of great 
 tree-trunks lying aslant across the floor, and the 
 forms of gigantic palm-leaves strewed among 
 them. Here is something different, rounded like 
 a nut-shell ; you can split off one side, and ' 
 behold there is the nut lying snugly as does any 
 chestnut in its bur! 
 
 Did you notice the great pillars of coal that 
 are left to uphold the roof ? Let us look at 
 them ; for perhaps we can examine them more 
 closely than we can the roof, and the sides of 
 these halls. Here are mosses and little leaves, 
 and sometimes an odd-looking little body that is 
 not unlike some of the sea-creatures we found 
 at the beach last summer ; and every thing is 
 made of coal, nothing but coal. How did it 
 happen, anfl what does it mean? Ferns and 
 palms, mosses and trees and animals, all perfect,
 
 ONE OF GOD'S STOREHOUSES 133 
 
 all beautiful, and yet all hidden away under this 
 hill, and turned into shining black coal. 
 
 Now, I can very well remember when I first 
 saw a coal fire, and how odd it looked to see 
 what seemed to be burning stones. For, when I 
 was a little girl, we always had logs of wood 
 blazing in an open fireplace, and so did many 
 other people, and coal was just coming into use 
 for fuel. What should we have done, if every- 
 body had kept on burning wood to this day? 
 There would have been scarcely a tree left stand- 
 ing; for think of all the locomotives and engines 
 in factories, besides all the fires in houses and 
 churches and schoolhouses. But God knew that 
 we should have need of other fuel besides wood, 
 and so he made great forests to grow on the 
 earth before he had made any men to live upon 
 it. These forests were of trees, different in 
 some ways from those we have now, great ferns 
 as tall as this house, and mosses as high as little 
 trees, and palm-leaves of enormous size. And, 
 when they were all prepared, he planned how 
 they should best be stored up for the use of his 
 children, who would not be here to use them for
 
 134 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 many thousand years to come. So he let them 
 grow and ripen and fall to the ground, and then 
 the great rocks were piled above them to crowd 
 them compactly together, and they were heated 
 and heavily pressed, until, as the ages went by, 
 they changed slowly into these hard, black, 
 shining stones, and became better fuel than any 
 wood, because the substance of wood was con- 
 centrated in them. Then the hills were piled up 
 on top of it all ; but here and there some edge of 
 a coal-bed was tilted up, and appeared above the 
 ground. This served for a hint to curious men, 
 to make them ask " What is this ? " and " What 
 is it good for?" and so at last, following their 
 questions, to find their way to the secret stores, 
 and make an open doorway, and let the world in. 
 
 So much for the fuel ; but God meant some- 
 thing else besides fuel when he packed this closet 
 for his children. At first they only understood 
 this simplest and plainest value of the coal. 
 But there were some things that troubled the 
 miners very much : one was gas that would take 
 fire from their lamps, and burn, making it 
 dangerous for men to go into the passages where
 
 ONE OF GOD'S STOREHOUSES 135 
 
 they were likely to meet it. But by and by the 
 wise men thought about it, and said to them- 
 selves, We must find out what useful purpose 
 God made the gas for : we know that he does not 
 make any thing for harm only. The thought 
 came to them that it might be prepared from 
 coal, and conducted through pipes to our houses 
 to take the place of lamps or candles, which 
 until that time had been the only light. But, 
 after making the gas, there was a thick, pitchy 
 substance left from the coal, called coal-tar. It 
 was only a trouble to the gas-makers, who had 
 no use for it, and even threw it away, until some 
 one, more thoughtful than the others, found out 
 that water would not pass through it. And so 
 it began to be used to cover roofs of buildings, 
 and, mixed with some other substances, made a 
 pavement for streets ; and being spread over iron- 
 work it protected it from rust. Don't you see 
 how many uses we have found for this refuse 
 coal-tar ? And the finest of all is yet to come ; 
 for the chemists got hold of it, and distilled and 
 refined it, until they prepared from the black, 
 dirty pitch lovely emerald-colored crystals which
 
 136 STORtES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 had the property of dying silk and cotton and 
 wool in beautiful colors, violet, magenta, purple, 
 or green. What do you think of that from the 
 coal-tar. When you have a new ribbon for your 
 hat, or a pretty red dress, or your grandmamma 
 buys a new violet ribbon for her cap, just ask if 
 they are dyed with aniline colors ; and if the 
 answer is " Yes," you may know that they came 
 from the coal-tar. Besides the dyes, we shall 
 also have left naphtha, useful in making varnish, 
 and various oils that are used in more ways than 
 I can stop to tell you, or you would care now to 
 hear. If your cousin Annie has a jet belt-clasp 
 or bracelet, and if you find in aunt Edith's box 
 of old treasures an odd-shaped brooch of jet, you 
 may remember the coal again ; for jet is only one 
 kind of lignite, which is a name for a certain 
 preparation of coal. 
 
 But here is another surprise of a different kind. 
 You have seen boxes of hard, smooth, white 
 candles with the name paraffine marked on the 
 cover. Should you think the black coal could 
 ever undergo such a change as to come out in 
 the form of these white candles? Go to the
 
 ONE OF GOD'S STOREHOUSES 137 
 
 factory where they are made, and you can see 
 the whole process ; and then you will understand 
 one more of God's meanings for coal. 
 
 And all this time I have not said a word about 
 how, while the great forests lay under pressure 
 for millions of years, the oils that were in the 
 growing plants (just as oils are in many growing 
 plants now) were pressed out, and flowed into 
 underground reservoirs, lying hidden there, until 
 one day not many years ago a man accidentally 
 bored into one. Up came the oil, spouting and 
 running over, gushing out and streaming down to 
 a little river that ran near by. As it floated on the 
 surface of the water (for oil and water will not 
 mix, you know), the boys, for mischief, set fire to 
 it, and a stream of fire rolled along down the river ; 
 proving to everybody who saw it, that a new light, 
 as good as gas, had come from the coal. Now 
 those of us who have kerosene lamps may thank 
 the oil-wells that were prepared for us so many 
 years ago. 
 
 When your hands or lips are cracked and rough 
 from the cold, does your mother ever put on 
 glycerine to heal them ? If she does, you are
 
 138 STORIES M 'OTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 indebted again to the coal oil, for of that it is 
 partly made. 
 
 And now let me tell you that almost all the 
 uses for coal have been found out since I was a 
 child ; and, by the time you are men and women, 
 you may be sure that as many moie will be dis- 
 covered, if not from that storehouse, certainly 
 from some of the many others that our good 
 Father has prepared for us, and hidden among the 
 mountains or in the deserts, or perhaps under 
 your very feet to-day ; for thousands of people 
 walked over those hills of coal, before one saw the 
 treasures that lay hidden there. I have only told 
 you enough to teach you how to look for your- 
 selves ; a peep, you know, is all I promised you. 
 Sometime we may open another door together.
 
 THE HIDDEN LIGHT
 
 THE HIDDEN LIGHT 
 
 THERE were plenty of gold-green beetles in the 
 forest. Their violet-colored cousins also held 
 royal state there ; and scarlet or yellow with black 
 trimmings was the uniform of many a gay troop 
 that careered in splendor through the vine-hung 
 aisles of the hot, damp woods. But clinging to 
 the gray bark of some tree, or lying concealed 
 among the damp leaves in a swamp, was the gay- 
 est and fairest of them all, if the truth be told. 
 
 A little blackish-brown bug, dingy and hairy, 
 not pleasant to look upon, you will say; surely 
 not related to such winged splendors as play in 
 the sunlight. Yet he is true first cousin to the 
 green and gold, or to the royal violet ; has as fair 
 a title to a place in your regard, and will prove it, 
 if you will only wait his time. He is like those 
 plain people whom we pass every day without 
 
 141
 
 142 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 notice, until some great trial or difficulty calls out 
 a hidden power within them, and they flash into 
 greatness in some noble action, and prove their 
 kinship to God. 
 
 We need not wait long ; for as soon as the sun 
 has set, our dull, blackish bug unfolds his wings 
 and reveals his latent glory. He becomes a star, a 
 spark from the sun's very self. If you can prevail 
 upon him to condescend to attend you, you may 
 read or write by his light alone. 
 
 But come with me to this Indian's hut, where 
 instead of lamp, candle, or torch, three or four 
 of these luminous insects make all the dwelling 
 bright. See the Indian hunter preparing for a 
 journey, or a raid upon the forest beasts, by fasten- 
 ing to his hands and feet the little lantern-flies 
 that shall make the pathway light before him. 
 
 When the Indian wants his brilliant little 
 servants, he goes out on some little hillock, 
 waving a lighted torch and calling them by name, 
 " cucuie, cucuie ; " and quickly they crowd around 
 him in troops. 
 
 And here I must tell you a little Japanese story. 
 The young lady fire-fly is courted by her many
 
 THE HIDDEN LIGHT 143 
 
 suitors, who themselves carry no light. She is 
 shy and reserved. She will not accept the atten- 
 tions ; but when so importuned that she sees no 
 other escape, she cries, " Let him who really 
 loves me, go bring me a light like my own, as a 
 proof of his affection." Then the daring lovers 
 rush blindly at the nearest fire or candle, and 
 perish in the flame. 
 
 But to return to the Indian. Not only do his 
 lantern-flies illuminate his path, but they go on 
 before him, like an advance guard, to clear the 
 road of its infecting mosquitoes, gnats, and other 
 troublesome insects, which they seize and devour 
 on the wing. 
 
 No harm would the Indian do to his little torch- 
 bearer ; for, besides the service he renders, does he 
 not embody a portion of the sun god, the holy 
 fire ? And there are times, when, with reverent 
 awe, these simple forest children think they see in 
 the cucuie the souls of their departed friends. 
 
 And now if we leave the forest and enter the 
 gay ball-room of some tropical city, we shall find 
 that the cucuie is a cosmopolitan, at home alike 
 in palace and in hut, in forest and city. Not
 
 IJ4 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 only does he, as a wise little four-year-old friend 
 of mine said, " light the toads to bed," but, 
 restrained by invisible folds of gauze, he flutters 
 in the hair of the fairest ladies, and rivals those 
 earth-stars the diamonds. 
 
 But it is hardly fair to show only the bright 
 side, even of a cucuie ; and in justice I must tell 
 that the sugar-planters see with dismay their 
 little torches among the canes. For although 
 mosquitoes and gnats will do for food in the 
 forests where sugar is not to be had, who would 
 taste them when a field of cane is all before you, 
 where to choose ?
 
 SIXTY-TWO LITTLE TADPOLES
 
 SIXTY-TWO LITTLE TADPOLES 
 
 LOOK at this mass of white jelly floating in a 
 bowl of pond water. It is clear and delicate, 
 formed of little globes the size of pease, held 
 together in one rounded mass. In each globe 
 is a black dot. 
 
 I have it all in my room, and I watch it every 
 day. Before a week passes, the black dots have 
 lengthened into little fishy bodies, each lying 
 curled in his globe of jelly, for these globes are 
 eggs, and these dots are soon to be little living 
 animals ; we will see of what kind. 
 
 Presently they begin to jerk backwards and 
 forwards, and perform such simple gymnastics 
 as the small accommodations of the egg will 
 allow ; and at last one morning, to my delight, 
 I find two or three of the little things free from 
 the egg, and swimming like so many tiny fishes 
 
 147
 
 148 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 in my bowl of water. How fast they come out 
 now ; five this morning, but twenty to-night, and 
 thrice as many to-morrow ! The next day I con- 
 clude that the remaining eggs will not hatch, 
 for they still show only dull, dead-looking dots : 
 so reluctantly I throw them away, wash out my 
 bowl, and fill it anew with pond water. But, 
 before doing this, I had to catch all my little 
 family, and put them safely into a tumbler to 
 remain during their house-cleaning. This was 
 hard work ; but I accomplished it with the help 
 of a teaspoon, and soon restored them to a fresh, 
 clean home. 
 
 It would be difficult to tell you all their history ; 
 for never did little things grow faster, or change 
 more wonderfully, than they. 
 
 One morning I found them all arranged round 
 the sides of the bowl in regular military ranks, 
 as straight and stiff as a company on dress parade. 
 It was then that I counted them, and discovered 
 that there were just sixty-two. 
 
 You would think, at first sight, that these sixty- 
 two brothers and sisters were all exactly alike ; 
 but, after watching them a while, you see that
 
 SIXTY-TWO LITTLE TADPOLES 149 
 
 one begins to distinguish himself as stronger 
 and more advanced than any of the others, the 
 captain, perhaps, of the military company. Soon 
 he sports a pair of little feathery gills on each 
 side of his head, as a young officer might sport 
 his mustache ; but these gills, unlike the mus- 
 tache, are for use as well as for ornament, and 
 serve him as breathing tubes. 
 
 How the little fellows grow ! no longer a slim 
 little fish, but quite a portly tadpole with rounded 
 body and long tail, but still with no expression 
 in his blunt-nosed face, and only two black- 
 looking pits where the eyes are to grow. 
 
 The others are not slow to follow their captain's 
 example. Day after day some new little fellow 
 shows his gills, and begins to swim by paddling 
 with his tail in a very stylish manner. 
 
 And now a sad thing happens to my family of 
 sixty-two, something which would never have 
 happened had I left the eggs at home in their 
 own pond ; for there there are plenty of tiny 
 water-plants, whose little leaves and stems serve 
 for many a delicious meal to young tadpoles. I 
 did not feed them, not knowing what to give
 
 150 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 them, and half imagining that they could live 
 very well upon water only; and so it happened 
 that one morning, when I was taking them out 
 with a spoon as usual, to give them fresh water, 
 I counted only fifty. Where were the others ? 
 
 At the bottom of the bowl lay a dozen little 
 tails, and I was forced to believe that the stronger 
 tadpoles had taken their weaker brothers for supper. 
 
 I didn't like to have my family broken up in 
 this way, and yet I didn't at that time know 
 what to give them : so the painful proceeding 
 was not checked ; and day after day my strongest 
 tadpoles grew even stronger, and the tails of the 
 weaker lay at the bottom of the bowl. 
 
 The captain throve finely, had clear, bright 
 eyes, lost his feathery gills, and showed through 
 his thin skin that he had a set of excellent legs 
 folded up inside. At last, one day, he kicked 
 out the two hind ones, and after that was never 
 tired of displaying his new swimming powers. 
 The fore-legs following in due time ; and when 
 all this was done, the tail, which he no longer 
 needed to steer with, dropped off, and my largest 
 tadpole became a little frog.
 
 SIXTY-TWO LITTLE TADPOLES 151 
 
 His brothers and sisters, such of them as were 
 left (for, I grieve to say, he had required a great 
 many hearty meals to enable him to reach the 
 frog state), followed his illustrious example as 
 soon as they were able ; and then, of course, my 
 little bowl of water was no suitable home for 
 them ; so away they went out into the grass, 
 among the shallow pools, and into the swamps. 
 I never knew exactly where ; and I am afraid that, 
 should I meet even my progressive little captain 
 again, I should hardly recognize him, so grown and 
 altered he would ,be. He no longer devours his 
 brothers, but, with a tongue as long as his body, 
 seizes slugs and insects, and swallows them 
 whole. 
 
 In the winter he sleeps with his brothers and 
 sisters, with the bottom of some pond or marsh 
 for a bed, where they all pack themselves away, 
 hundreds together, laid so closely that you can't 
 distinguish one from another. 
 
 But early in the spring you may hear their 
 loud croaking; and when the March sun has 
 thawed the ice from the ponds, the mother-frogs
 
 152 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 are all very busy with their eggs, which they 
 leave in the shallow water, round jelly-like 
 masses, like the one I told you of at the begin- 
 ning of this story, made up of hundreds and 
 hundreds of eggs. For the frog mother hopes for 
 a large family of children, and she knows, by sad 
 experience, that no sooner are they born than 
 the fishes snap them up by the dozen ; and even 
 after they have found their legs, and begin to 
 feel old, and competent to take care of them- 
 selves, the snakes and the weasels will not 
 hesitate to take two or three for breakfast, if 
 they come in the way. So you see the mother- 
 frog has good reason for laying so many eggs. 
 
 The toads too, who, by the way, are cousins to 
 the frogs, come down in April to lay their eggs 
 also in the water, long necklaces of a double 
 row of fine transparent eggs, each one showing 
 its black dot, which is to grow into a tadpole, 
 and swim about with its cousins, the frog 
 tadpoles, while they all look so much alike that I 
 fancy their own mothers do not know them 
 apart.
 
 SIXTY-TWO LITTLE TADPOLES 
 
 153 
 
 I once picked up a handful of them, and took 
 them home. One grew up to be a charming 
 little tree-toad, while some of his companions 
 gave good promise, by their big awkward forms, 
 of growing by and by into great bull-frogs.
 
 GOLDEN-ROD 
 AND ASTERS
 
 GOLDEN-ROD AND ASTERS 
 
 Do you know that flowers, as well as people, 
 live in families ? Come into the garden, and I 
 will show you how. Here is a red rose : the 
 beautiful bright-colored petals are the walls of 
 the house, built in a circle, you see. Next 
 come the yellow stamens, standing also in a 
 circle : these are the father of the household, 
 perhaps you would say the fathers, there are so 
 many. They stand round the mother, who lives 
 in the very middle, as if they were put there to 
 protect and take care of her. And she is the 
 straight little pistil, standing in the midst of all. 
 The children are seeds, put away for the present 
 in a green cradle at their mother's feet, where 
 they will sleep and grow as babies should, until 
 by and by they will all have opportunities to
 
 158 STORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 come out and build for themselves fine rose- 
 colored houses like that of their parents. 
 
 It is in this way that most of the flowers 
 live ; some, it is true, quite differently : for the 
 beautiful scarlet maple blossoms, that open so 
 early in the spring, have the fathers on one tree, 
 and the mothers on another ; and they can only 
 make flying visits to each other when a high 
 wind chooses to give them a ride. 
 
 The golden-rod and asters and some of their 
 cousins have yet another way of living, and it is 
 of this I must tell you to-day. 
 
 You know the roadside asters, purple and white, 
 that bloom so plenteously all through the early 
 autumn? Each flower is a circle of little rays, 
 spreading on every side : but, if you should pull it 
 to pieces to look for a family like that of the rose, 
 you would be sadly confused about it ; for the 
 aster's plan of living is very different from the 
 rose's. Each purple or white ray is a little home 
 in itself ; and these are all inhabited by maiden 
 ladies, living each one alone in the one delicately 
 colored room of her house. But in the middle of 
 the aster you will find a dozen or more little
 
 GOLDEN-ROD AND ASTERS 159 
 
 families, all packed away together. Each one has 
 its own small, yellow house, each has the father, 
 mother, and one child : they all live here together 
 on the flat circle which is called a disk ; and round 
 them are built the houses belonging to the maiden 
 aunts, who watch and protect the whole. This is 
 what we might call living in a community. People 
 do so sometimes. Different families who like to 
 be near each other will take a very large house 
 and inhabit it together ; so that in one house there 
 will be many fathers, mothers, and children, and 
 very likely maiden aunts and bachelor uncles 
 besides. 
 
 Do you understand now how the asters live in 
 communities ? The golden-rod also lives in com- 
 munities, but yet not exactly after the aster's 
 plan, in smaller houses generally, and these of 
 course contain fewer families. Four or five of the 
 maiden aunts live in yellow-walled rooms round 
 the outside ; and in the middle live fathers, 
 mothers, and children, as they do in the asters. 
 But here is the difference : if the golden-rod has 
 smaller houses, it has more of them together upon 
 one stem. I have never counted them, but you
 
 160 S 'TORIES MOTHER NATURE TOLD 
 
 can, now that they are in bloom, and tell me how 
 many. 
 
 And have you ever noticed how gracefully these 
 great companies are arranged ? For the golden- 
 rods are like elm-trees in their forms : some grow 
 in one single, tall plume, bending over a little at 
 the top ; some in a double or triple plume, so that 
 the nodding heads may bend on each side ; but the 
 largest are like the great Etruscan elms, many 
 branches rising gracefully from the main stem and 
 curving over on every side, like those tall glass 
 vases which, I dare say, you have all seen. 
 
 Do not forget, when you are looking at these 
 golden plumes, that each one, as it tosses in the 
 wind, is rocking its hundreds of little dwellings, 
 with the fathers, mothers, babies, and all. 
 
 When you go out for golden-rod and asters, you 
 will find also the great purple thistle, one of those 
 cousins who has adopted the same plan of living. 
 It is so prickly that I advise you not to attempt 
 breaking it off, but only with your finger-tips 
 push softly down into the purple tassel ; and if the 
 thistle is ripe, as I think it will be in these autumn 
 days, you will feel a bed of softest down under the
 
 GOLDEN-ROD AND ASTERS l6l 
 
 spreading purple top. A little gentle pushing will 
 set the down all astir, and I can show you how the 
 children are about to take leave of the home where 
 they were born and brought up. Each seed child 
 has a downy wing with which it can fly, and also 
 cling, as you will see, if we set them loose, and 
 the wind blows them on to your woollen frock. 
 They are hardy children, and not afraid of any 
 thing ; they venture out into the world fearlessly, 
 and presume to plant themselves and prepare to 
 build wherever they choose, without regard to the 
 rights of the farmer's ploughed field or your 
 mother's nicely laid out garden. 
 
 More of the community flowers are the immor- 
 telles, and in spring the dandelions. Examine 
 them, and tell me how they build their houses, 
 and what sort of families they have; how the 
 children go away ; when the house is broken up ; 
 and what becomes of the fathers, mothers, and 
 aunts.
 
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