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  AMONG THE MEADOW PEOPLE

  BY CLARA DILLINGHAM PIERSON

  Illustrated by F. C. GORDON

  NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION

 

  NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET

  HAYING IN THE MEADOW]

  COPYRIGHT E. P. DUTTON & CO. 1899

  COPYRIGHT CLARA DILLINGHAM PIERSON 1901

  The Knickerbocker Press, New York

  CONTENTS.

  PAGE INTRODUCTION 5 THE BUTTERFLY THAT WENT CALLING 7 THE ROBINS BUILD A NEST 14 THE SELFISH TENT-CATERPILLAR 22 THE LAZY SNAIL 31 AN ANT THAT WORE WINGS 37 THE CHEERFUL HARVESTMEN 42 THE LITTLE SPIDER'S FIRST WEB 50 THE BEETLE WHO DID NOT LIKE CATERPILLARS 56 THE YOUNG ROBIN WHO WAS AFRAID TO FLY 61 THE CRICKETS' SCHOOL 71 THE CONTENTED EARTHWORMS 76 THE MEASURING WORM'S JOKE 81 A PUZZLED CICADA 87 THE TREE FROG'S STORY 93 THE DAY WHEN THE GRASS WAS CUT 101 THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE MEASURING WORM RUN A RACE 109 MR. GREEN FROG AND HIS VISITORS 114 THE DIGNIFIED WALKING-STICKS 120 THE DAY OF THE GREAT STORM 128 THE STORY OF LILY-PAD ISLAND 134 THE GRASSHOPPER WHO WOULDN'T BE SCARED 142 THE EARTHWORM HALF-BROTHERS 151 A GOSSIPING FLY 156 THE FROG-HOPPERS GO OUT INTO THE WORLD 161 THE MOSQUITO TRIES TO TEACH HIS NEIGHBORS 171 THE FROG WHO THOUGHT HERSELF SICK 177 THE KATYDID'S QUARREL 183 THE LAST PARTY OF THE SEASON 188

  INTRODUCTION.

  Many of these stories of field life were written for the little ones ofmy kindergarten, and they gave so much pleasure, and aroused such a newinterest in "the meadow people," that it has seemed wise to collect andadd to the original number and send them out to a larger circle of boysand girls.

  All mothers and teachers hear the cry for "just one more," and find thatthere are times when the bewitching tales of animals, fairies, and"really truly" children are all exhausted, and tired imagination willnot supply another. In selecting the tiny creatures of field and gardenfor the characters in this book, I have remembered with pleasure the wayin which my loyal pupils befriended stray crickets and grasshoppers,their intense appreciation of the new realm of fancy and observation,and the eagerness and attention with which they sought Mother Nature,the most wonderful and tireless of all story-tellers.

  CLARA DILLINGHAM PIERSON.

  Stanton, Michigan, April 8th, 1897.

  THE BUTTERFLY THAT WENT CALLING

  As the warm August days came, Mr. Yellow Butterfly wriggled and pushedin his snug little green chrysalis and wished he could get out to seethe world. He remembered the days when he was a hairy littleCaterpillar, crawling slowly over grass and leaves, and he rememberedhow beautiful the sky and all the flowers were. Then he thought of thenew wings which had been growing from his back, and he tried to movethem, just to see how it would feel. He had only six legs since hiswings grew, and he missed all the sticky feet which he had to give upwhen he began to change into a Butterfly.

  The more he thought about it the more he squirmed, until suddenly heheard a faint little sound, too faint for larger people to hear, andfound a tiny slit in the wall of his chrysalis. It was such a daintygreen chrysalis with white wrinkles, that it seemed almost a pity tohave it break. Still it had held him for eight days already and that wasas long as any of his family ever hung in the chrysalis, so it was quitetime for it to be torn open and left empty. Mr. Yellow Butterflybelonged to the second brood that had hatched that year and he wanted tobe out while the days were still fine and hot. Now he crawled out of thenewly-opened doorway to take his first flight.

  Poor Mr. Butterfly! He found his wings so wet and crinkled that theywouldn't work at all, so he had to sit quietly in the sunshine all daydrying them. And just as they got big, and smooth, and dry, it grewdark, and Mr. Butterfly had to crawl under a leaf to sleep.

  The next morning, bright and early, he flew away to visit the flowers.First he stopped to see the Daisies by the roadside. They were alldancing in the wind, and their bright faces looked as cheerful as anyonecould wish. They were glad to see Mr. Butterfly, and wished him to stayall day with them. He said; "You are very kind, but I really couldn'tthink of doing it. You must excuse my saying it, but I am surprised tothink you will grow here. It is very dusty and dry, and then there is noshade. I am sure I could have chosen a better place."

  The Daisies smiled and nodded to each other, saying, "This is the kindof place we were made for, that's all."

  Mr. Butterfly shook his head very doubtfully, and then bade them apolite "Good-morning," and flew away to call on the Cardinals.

  The Cardinals are a very stately family, as everybody knows. They holdtheir heads very high, and never make deep bows, even to the wind, butfor all that they are a very pleasant family to meet. They gave Mr.Butterfly a dainty lunch of honey, and seemed much pleased when he toldthem how beautiful the river looked in the sunlight.

  "It is a delightful place to grow," said they.

  "Ye-es," said Mr. Butterfly, "it is very pretty, still I do not think itcan be healthful. I really cannot understand why you flowers choose suchstrange homes. Now, there are the Daisies, where I just called. They arein a dusty, dry place, where there is no shade at all. I spoke to themabout it, and they acted quite uppish."

  "But the Daisies always do choose such places," said the Cardinals.

  "And your family," said Mr. Butterfly, "have lived so long in wet placesthat it is a wonder you are alive. Your color is good, but to stand withone's roots in water all the time! It is shocking."

  "Cardinals and Butterflies live differently," said the flowers."Good-morning."

  Mr. Butterfly left the river and flew over to the woods. He was verymuch out of patience. He was so angry that his feelers quivered, and nowyou know how angry he must have been. He knew that the Violets were avery agreeable family, who never put on airs, so he went at once tothem.

  He had barely said "Good-morning" to them when he began to explain whathad displeased him.

  "To think," he said, "what notions some flowers have! Now, you have apleasant home here in the edge of the woods. I have been telling theDaisies and the Cardinals that they should grow in such a place, butthey wouldn't listen to me. The Daisies were quite uppish about it, andthe Cardinals were very stiff."

  "My dear friend," answered a Violet, "they could never live if theymoved up into our neighborhood. Every flower has his own place in thisworld, and is happiest in that place. Everything has its own place andits own
work, and every flower that is wise will stay in the place forwhich it was intended. You were exceedingly kind to want to help theflowers, but suppose they had been telling you what to do. Suppose theCardinals had told you that flying around was not good for your health,and that to be truly well you ought to grow planted with your legs inthe mud and water."

  "Oh!" said Mr. Butterfly, "Oh! I never thought of that. PerhapsButterflies don't know everything."

  "No," said the Violet, "they don't know everything, and you haven't beenout of your chrysalis very long. But those who are ready to learn canalways find someone to tell them. Won't you eat some honey?"

  And Mr. Butterfly sipped honey and was happy.

  THE ROBINS BUILD A NEST.

  When Mr. and Mrs. Robin built in the spring, they were not quite agreedas to where the nest should be. Mr. Robin was a very decided bird, andhad made up his mind that the lowest crotch of a maple tree would be thebest place. He even went so far as to take three billfuls of mud there,and stick in two blades of dry grass. Mrs. Robin wanted it on the end ofthe second rail from the top of the split-rail fence. She said it washigh enough from the ground to be safe and dry, and not so high that alittle bird falling out of it would hurt himself very much. Then, too,the top rail was broad at the end and would keep the rain off so well.

  "And the nest will be just the color of the rails," said she, "so thateven a Red Squirrel could hardly see it." She disliked Red Squirrels,and she had reason to, for she had been married before, and if it hadnot been for a Red Squirrel, she might already have had children aslarge as she was.

  "I say that the tree is the place for it," said Mr. Robin, "and I wearthe brightest breast feathers." He said this because in bird familiesthe one who wears the brightest breast feathers thinks he has the rightto decide things.

  Mrs. Robin was wise enough not to answer back when he spoke in this way.She only shook her feathers, took ten quick running steps, tilted herbody forward, looked hard at the ground, and pulled out something forsupper. After that she fluttered around the maple tree crotch as thoughshe had never thought of any other place. Mr. Robin wished he had notbeen quite so decided, or reminded her of his breast feathers. "Afterall," thought he, "I don't know but the fence-rail would have done." Hethought this, but he didn't say it. It is not always easy for a Robin togive up and let one with dull breast feathers know that he thinkshimself wrong.

  That night they perched in the maple-tree and slept with their headsunder their wings. Long before the sun was in sight, when the firstbeams were just touching the tops of the forest trees, they awakened,bright-eyed and rested, preened their feathers, sang their morning song,"Cheerily, cheerily, cheer-up," and flew off to find food. Afterbreakfast they began to work on the nest. Mrs. Robin stopped often tolook and peck at the bark. "It will take a great deal of mud," said she,"to fill in that deep crotch until we reach a place wide enough for thenest."

  At another time she said: "My dear, I am afraid that the dry grass youare bringing is too light-colored. It shows very plainly against themaple bark. Can't you find some that is darker?"

  Mr. Robin hunted and hunted, but could find nothing which was darker. Ashe flew past the fence, he noticed that it was almost the color of thegrass in his bill.

  After a while, soft gray clouds began to cover the sky. "I wonder," saidMrs. Robin, "if it will rain before we get this done. The mud is softenough now to work well, and this place is so open that the rain mighteasily wash away all that we have done."

  It did rain, however, and very soon. The great drops came down so hardthat one could only think of pebbles falling. Mr. and Mrs. Robin oiledtheir feathers as quickly as they could, taking the oil from their backpockets and putting it onto their feathers with their bills. This madethe finest kind of waterproof and was not at all heavy to wear. When therain was over they shook themselves and looked at their work.

  "I believe," said Mrs. Robin to her husband, "that you are right insaying that we might better give up this place and begin over againsomewhere else."

  Now Mr. Robin could not remember having said that he thought anything ofthe sort, and he looked very sharply at his wife, and cocked his blackhead on one side until all the black and white streaks on his throatshowed. She did not seem to know that he was watching her as she hoppedaround the partly built nest, poking it here and pushing it there, andtrying her hardest to make it look right. He thought she would saysomething, but she didn't. Then he knew he must speak first. He flirtedhis tail and tipped his head and drew some of his brown wing-feathersthrough his bill. Then he held himself very straight and tall, and said,"Well, if you do agree with me, I think you might much better stopworking here and begin in another place."

  "It seems almost too bad," said she. "Of course there are other places,but----"

  By this time Mr. Robin knew exactly what to do. "Plenty of them," saidhe. "Now don't fuss any longer with this. That place on the rail fenceis an excellent one. I wonder that no other birds have taken it." As hespoke he flew ahead to the very spot which Mrs. Robin had first chosen.

  She was a very wise bird, and knew far too much to say, "I told you so."Saying that, you know, always makes things go wrong. She looked at therail fence, ran along the top of it, toeing in prettily as she ran,looked around in a surprised way, and said, "Oh, _that_ place?"

  "Yes, Mrs. Robin," said her husband, "_that_ place. Do you see anythingwrong about it?"

  "No-o," she said. "I think I could make it do."

  Before long another nest was half built, and Mrs. Robin was working awayin the happiest manner possible, stopping every little while to sing herafternoon song: "Do you think what you do? Do you think what you do? Doyou thi-ink?"

  Mr. Robin was also at work, and such billfuls of mud, such fine littletwigs, and such big wisps of dry grass as went into that home! Once Mr.Robin was gone a long time, and when he came back he had a beautifulpiece of white cotton string dangling from his beak. That they put onthe outside. "Not that we care to show off," said they, "but somehowthat seemed to be the best place to put it."

  Mr. Robin was very proud of his nest and of his wife. He never went faraway if he could help it. Once she heard him tell Mr. Goldfinch that,"Mrs. Robin was very sweet about building where he chose, and that evenafter he insisted on changing places from the tree to the fence she wasperfectly good-natured."

  "Yes," said Mrs. Robin to Mrs. Goldfinch, "I was perfectlygood-natured." Then she gave a happy, chirpy little laugh, and Mrs.Goldfinch laughed, too. They were perfectly contented birds, even ifthey didn't wear the brightest breast feathers or insist on havingtheir own way. And Mrs. Robin had been married before.

  THE SELFISH TENT-CATERPILLAR.

  One could hardly call the Tent-Caterpillars meadow people, for they didnot often leave their trees to crawl upon the ground. Yet the Apple-TreeTent-Caterpillars would not allow anybody to call them forest people."We live on apple and wild cherry trees," they said, "and you willalmost always find us in the orchards or on the roadside trees. Thereare Forest Tent-Caterpillars, but please don't get us mixed with them.We belong to another branch of the family, the Apple-Tree branch."

  The Tree Frog said that he remembered perfectly well when the eggs werelaid on the wild cherry tree on the edge of the meadow. "It was earlylast summer," he said, "and the Moth who laid them was a very agreeablereddish-brown person, about as large as a common Yellow Butterfly. Iremember that she had two light yellow lines on each forewing. AnotherMoth came with her, but did not stay. He was smaller than she, and hadthe same markings. After he had gone, she asked me if we were evervisited by the Yellow-Billed Cuckoos."

  "Why did she ask that?" said the Garter Snake.

  "Don't you know?" exclaimed the Tree Frog. And then he whisperedsomething to the Garter Snake.

  The Garter Snake wriggled with surprise and cried, "Really?"

  All through the fall and winter the many, many eggs which thereddish-brown Moth had laid were kept snug and warm on the twig whereshe had put them. They were placed
in rows around the twig, and thenwell covered to hold them together and keep them warm. The winter windshad blown the twig to and fro, the cold rain had frozen over them, thesoft snowflakes had drifted down from the clouds and covered them, onlyto melt and trickle away again in shining drops. One morning the wholewild cherry tree was covered with beautiful long, glistening crystals ofhoar-frost; and still the ring of eggs stayed in its place around thetwig, and the life in them slept until spring sunbeams should shine downand quicken it.

  But when the spring sunbeams did come! Even before the leaf-buds wereopen, tiny Larvae, or Caterpillar babies, came crawling from the ring ofeggs and began feeding upon the buds. They took very, very small bites,and that looked as though they were polite children. Still, you know,their mouths were so small that they could not take big ones, and itmay not have been politeness after all which made them eat daintily.

  When all the Tent-Caterpillars were hatched, and they had eaten everyleaf-bud near the egg-ring, they began to crawl down the tree toward thetrunk. Once they stopped by a good-sized crotch in the branches. "Let'sbuild here," said the leader; "this place is all right."

  Then some of the Tent-Caterpillars said, "Let's!" and some of them said,"Don't let's!" One young fellow said, "Aw, come on! There's a biggercrotch farther down." Of course he should have said, "I think you willlike a larger crotch better," but he was young, and, you know, theseLarvae had no father or mother to help them speak in the right way. Theywere orphans, and it is wonderful how they ever learned to talk at all.