Chapter I: Part 1

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THE TURQUOISE STORY BOOK.
_Stories and Legends of Summer and
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Drawn by Maxfield Parrish

SUMMER
]

THE TURQUOISE

STORY BOOK

_Stories and Legends of_
_Summer and Nature_

COMPILED BY

ADA M. SKINNER

AND

ELEANOR L. SKINNER

_Editors of "The Emerald Story Book," "Merry Tales," "Nursery
Tales from Many Lands" and "The Topaz Story Book"_

FRONTISPIECE BY

MAXFIELD PARRISH

NEW YORK
DUFFIELD & COMPANY
1918

Copyright, 1918, by
DUFFIELD & COMPANY

INTRODUCTION

The beauty of the world gradually reveals itself to the child who forms the habit of observation. Through companionship with Nature, supplemented by the reading of books which foster an interest in the ever-varying charm of the seasons, the young reader enriches his experience by learning to interpret "the open pages of the world about him."

Some of the stories, legends, and poems in the present volume point out facts in Nature; others stimulate interest because they appeal to the young reader's fancy, quicken his sense of humour, or attract his attention to some spiritual significance. Also, large use has been made of myths and wonder stories. They evolved in the childhood of the race when the mystery of the physical world made a deep and serious impression upon primitive men. In terms of their own experiences, they explained and symbolized the beauty, order, and power which they beheld.

"The Turquoise Story Book" is the third volume in a series of nature books, each of which emphasizes the interest and beauty characteristic of a particular season. The central theme of this volume is the loveliness of summer and its manifold blessings.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The editors' thanks are due to the following authors and publishers who have permitted the publication of their works in this volume—to Mr. Albert Bigelow Paine for permission to include "How the Rose Became Queen," and "A Legend of the Lily-of-the-Valley," from a "Little Garden Calendar," published by the Henry Altemus Company; to Helen Gray Cone for her two poems, "An Evening Primrose" and "A Yellow Pansy"; to Frances Gillespy Wickes for "Mother Spider"; to Edward Bliss Reed and the Yale University Press for the poem "Flowers," from "Sea Moods"; to Frank A. Waugh and the _Woman's Home Companion_ for "The Friendly Summer Trees"; to Miss M. L. Cook for her translation of "Why the Lady-Bug Is Called Beloved of God"; to Lucille Corbett for "The Story of the Dewdrop"; to George Allen and Unwin Ltd., for permission to retell "The Sun Princess" and "Princess Fire-fly" from "Old World Japan Legends"; to the Outlook Company for "The Tale of Two Tails," and to Ernest Ingersoll and the Outlook Company for "Birds' Nests"; to George H. Doran Company for "The Dew Mother," by May Byron; to the Educational Company for "The Boy Who Hated Trees"; to _Town Topics_ for "Hatto, the Hermit," by Selma Lagerlöf; to Charles Scribner's Sons for the selections from Eugene Field and Henry Van Dyke; to D. C. Heath and Company for "Legend of Tithonus" from "Favorite Greek Myths," by Lillian S. Hyde; to Frederick A. Stokes Company for a selection by Alfred Noyes; to E. P. Dutton and Company for "Robin Goodfellow," from "English Fairy Tales," by Ernest Rhys; to C. H. Barbeau for permission to retell "Legend of the Sun and Moon," from "Memoirs"; to S. E. Cassino Company for "The Grubbiest Grub" from _Little Folks Magazine_; to J. B. Lippincott Company for permission to retell a legend from Skinner's "Legends of Flowers, Fruits and Trees"; to Small, Maynard and Company for three poems from "Complete Works of Madison Cawein"; to Macmillan and Company Ltd., London, for a poem by Maud Keary; to John P. Morton and Company for "Morning Glories" from "Poet and Nature," by Madison Cawein; to T. Fisher Unwin Ltd. for "The Summer Princess" from "The Enchanted Garden," by Mrs. Molesworth; to the Macmillan Company for "Nature," from "Preludes," by Madison Cawein, a selection from "The Everlasting Mercy," by John Masefield, and "In the Cool of the Evening," from "Poems," by Alfred Noyes, and a selection from "Gitanjali," by Rabindranath Tagore; to Edward Abbott Parry for "Undine" from "The First Book of Krab"; and to Lyman Abbott for "The Flower's Thanks."

The selections from John Burroughs, Edith M. Thomas and John Townsend Trowbridge are used by permission of and by special arrangement with Houghton, Mifflin Company, the authorized publishers of their works.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

SUMMER STORIES AND LEGENDS

PAGE

Summer (selection) _Madison Cawein_ 2

How Summer Conquered Winter (Iroquois Legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 3

A Legend of the Flowers (Australian) _Katherine Langlot
Parker_ 8

June (selection) _James Russell Lowell_ 14

The Sun-Goddess (Japanese Legend) _Frank Rinder_ 15

The Summer Maker (Ojibway Legend) Retold from Schoolcraft _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 20

Summer (selection) _Edmund Spenser_ 27

In the Kitchen-Garden (abridged) _Mrs. Alfred Gatty_ 28

Glad Day (poem) _W. Graham Robertson_ 42

The Summer Princess _Mrs. Molesworth_ 44

Midsummer (poem) _John Townsend
Trowbridge_ 74

SUMMER SKIES

Selection _Rabindranath Tagore_ 76

Day (poem) _Robert Browning_ 76

How the Sun Was Caught and Freed (Indian Legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 77

A Day of Sunshine (poem) _Henry W. Longfellow_ 83

Phaeton's Drive in the Sun-Chariot _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 84

Song _William Shakespeare_ 90

Summer Sun (poem) _Robert Louis
Stevenson_ 91

The Cloud (translated from the German by Eleanor L. Skinner) _Robert Reineck_ 92

Undine _Edward Abbott Parry_ 95

Legend of the Sun, Moon and Stars (Retold) _Ada M. Skinner_ 116

The Princess Moonbeam (Japanese Legend) _Mary F. Nixon-Roulet_ 120

The Moon (selection) _Percy Bysshe Shelley_ 124

The Spacious Firmament on High (poem) _Joseph Addison_ 125

GREEN FIELDS AND MEADOWS GAY

Nature's Song (selection) _Madison Cawein_ 128

The Gift of Flax (Norse Legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 129

The Story of the Dewdrop _Lucille Corbett_ 136

The Dew Mother (poem) _May Byron_ 140

Origin of the Dandelion (Indian Legend Retold) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 141

Prince Butterfly and Clover (Retold from the poem by Louisa M. Alcott) _Ada M. Skinner_ 146

A Song of Clover _Saxe Holm_ 152

Tithonus: A Legend of the Grasshopper _Lillian S. Hyde_ 153

The Grasshopper (poem) _Edith M. Thomas_ 155

The Golden Grasshopper _Charles Lamb_ 156

A Blade of Grass _John Ruskin_ 159

Selection _Charles Dalmon_ 162

Princess Fire-Fly (Japanese Legend, adapted) _Frank Rinder_ 163

July (selection) _Susan Hartley Swett_ 168

Cuff and the Woodchuck _John Burroughs_ 169

Why the Lady-Bug Is Said to Be Beloved of God—Translated from the French by _M. L. Cook_ 173

SUMMER SPINNERS

Selection _Madison Cawein_ 182

The Story of Arachne _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 183

How the Spider Makes Its Web _C. William Beebe_ 188

The Fairy Spinner (Southern Tale Retold) _Ada M. Skinner_ 192

Mother Spider _Frances Gillespy
Wickes_ 195

IN BROOKS AND PONDS

The Brook _Alfred Tennyson_ 200

Legend of the Water-Lily _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 201

The Tale of Two Tails _Mary H. Wilson_ 205

Origin of Bullfrogs (Algonquin Legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 212

Woodland Waters (poem) _Madison Cawein_ 221

The Grubbiest Grub _J. Bevan_ 222

The Dragon-Fly (poem) _Alfred Tennyson_ 231

ON THE WING

Selection _John Masefield_ 234

Selection _William Blake_ 234

How Woodpecker Changed His Colours (Micmac Legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 235

A Retort from the Catbird (poem) _Abbie Farwell Brown_ 238

Woodpecker Life _Margaret Coulson
Walker_ 239

Kingfisher's Necklace and Ruffle _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 252

Owl Wisdom _Frances Wright_ 256

Birds' Nests _Ernest Ingersoll_ 261

Hatto The Hermit: The Legend of a Bird's Nest _Selma Lagerlöf_ 267

UNDER GREENWOOD TREES

Song _William Shakespeare_ 282

The Plucky Prince (Adapted from the poem by May Byron) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 283

The Oak (poem) _H. F. Chorley_ 289

Summer Snow _Mrs. Humphrey Ward_ 290

The Boy Who Hated Trees _Alice L. Beckwith_ 293

The Friendly Summer Trees _Frank A. Waugh_ 301

Forest Day _Selma Lagerlöf_ 309

Woodman, Spare That Tree (poem) _George P. Morris_ 314

IN AN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN

Selection _William Brightly
Rands_ 320

Selection _Eugene Field_ 320

How the Rose Became Queen _Albert Bigelow Paine_ 321

Morning-Glories (poem) _Madison Cawein_ 327

Why Roses Have Thorns (Algonquin Legend Retold) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 329

Sweet Peas (poem) _John Keats_ 334

Legend of the Primrose _Ada M. Skinner_ 335

Evening Primroses (poem) _Helen Gray Cone_ 340

Legend of the Lily-of-the-Valley _Albert Bigelow Paine_ 341

Katrina's Sun-Dial _Henry Van Dyke_ 341

The Three Little Butterflies (Translated from Curtmann) _Ada M. Skinner_ 342

The Pinks (poem) _Robert Bridges_ 344

The Flower's Thanks _Lyman Abbott_ 345

Pansies (poem) _James Whitcomb Riley_ 347

The Little Heartsease 348

Legend of the Red Geranium (Mohammedan) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 351

Enchanted Tulips (poem) _Maud Keary_ 352

Iris _Ada M. Skinner_ 353

The Yellow-Bird (poem) _James Whitcomb Riley_ 355

Origin of the Sunflower _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 356

The Bluebell (poem) _Anonymous_ 359

The Dew Mother's Gift to the Rose Eleanor _L. Skinner_ 360

A Yellow Pansy (poem) _Helen Gray Cone_ 362

Mignonette _Ada M. Skinner_ 363

Flowers (selection) _Edward Bliss Reed_ 369

ON A MIDSUMMER DAY

Selection _Alfred Noyes_ 372

The Friendly Cowslip Bells (English Legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 373

Fairy Dawn (selection) _Joseph Rodman Drake_ 377

Robin Goodfellow _Ernest Rhys_ 378

A Quarrel in Fairyland (Arranged from a Midsummer Night's Dream) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 388

In the Cool of the Evening (poem) _Alfred Noyes_ 406

SUMMER STORIES AND LEGENDS

SUMMER

Hang out your loveliest star, O Night! O Night!
Your richest rose, O Dawn!
To greet sweet Summer, her who clothed in Light
Leads Earth's best hours on.
Hark! how the wild birds of the woods
Throat it within the dewy solitudes;
The brook sings low and soft,
The trees make song,
As from her heaven aloft
Comes blue-eyed Summer like a girl along.

MADISON CAWEIN.

HOW SUMMER CONQUERED
WINTER

(IROQUOIS LEGEND)

Once upon a time the Great Chief, Glooscap, who brought many blessings to the Red Men, made a journey far into the Northland. For days he traveled over frozen wastes of ice and snow, where the keen wind blew without ceasing.

At last he came to a lodge hollowed out of the icebergs, where Winter, the Giant of the Northland, dwelt. Quietly, Glooscap stalked into the glittering lodge and sat down. There was silence for several moments, then the Winter Manito laid aside his scepter of ice, filled a pipe, and, offering it to his guest, said, "Thou art welcome. Tell me, why comest thou to the Northland?"

"To learn about the power of the Winter Giant," answered Glooscap.

"Who can measure the strength of the Winter King?" said the giant, shaking his white locks, on which rested a crown of icicles.

For a long while the King and his guest sat smoking in silence. Then the Winter Giant began the story of his mighty deeds.

"I cover the Northland with ice, and pile up great snowdrifts which look like mountains. I send forth the Storm Blast, which fills the air with sleet and snow, and makes the white bear creep into a cave for shelter. I build the glittering icebergs, out of which my chieftains make their lodges."

The enchantment of the frost was in Giant Winter's words, and his guest sat spellbound. After Glooscap had listened to many works of wonder, he nodded his head and fell into a deep sleep. Like an image of death he lay in Winter's lodge for six months.

Then one morning the charm of the frost spirit was broken, and Glooscap, who awoke with renewed vigor, left the Winter King's lodge and journeyed toward the Southland. After a few days of travel he was beyond the reach of the Storm Blast. The air grew wondrously mild and warm; instead of frozen wastes, he saw stretches of meadowlands and green forests, where the birds were nesting. He walked deep into the woodland until he came to a dell, which was thick with flowers and bright butterflies. On soft green moss the Sun-Fays, led by the Fairy Queen of Summer, were dancing gaily. For a few moments Glooscap stood and marveled at the beauty of the scene.

Suddenly he sprang into the midst of the dancers, seized the Fairy Queen of Summer, and slipped her under his blanket. Then away he fled with her. As he ran, Glooscap, by magic power, dropped one end of a slender cord, made from a moose-hide, and let it trail behind him. When the Sun-Fays saw what had happened, they uttered a great cry, and darted after the intruder. They seized the end of the cord, and tugged at it with all their fairy might, hoping to hold fast Glooscap and rescue their Fairy Queen. But the magic cord had no end, and the Sun-Fays were left in the valley, while Glooscap fled through the forest and retraced his steps to the frozen Northland.

Again he silently entered the giant's lodge hollowed out of the icebergs. The Winter Manito laid aside his ice scepter, filled a pipe, and offered it to his guest, saying, "Thou art welcome. Hast thou returned to the Northland to hear more about the strength of the Winter Manito?"

"The Frost King's might is great," said Glooscap, "but I have seen a power which is greater than his!"

The Winter Giant looked scornfully at his guest and said nothing.

"I have seen the wonder and beauty of the Summer Queen's land," said Glooscap. "There the quickening dews and gentle showers soften the brown earth, and the grass leaps forth. Myriad sunbeams touch the flower buds, and unfold them into full blossoms. Birds build their nests and rear their young in the branches of the sheltering forests. Light and warmth abound, and the earth is filled with gladness."

By magic power Glooscap cast a spell over Giant Winter. He could neither speak nor move. As the Great Chief talked, the iceberg lodge grew warm and big ice drops ran down the giant's cheeks. Gradually the air grew warmer and warmer. Winter's icy figure and his wigwam melted and, in a great flood, flowed away to the sea.

Then, from her hiding place under Glooscap's blanket, stepped forth the Summer Queen. At her command the Sun Fairies joined her, and together they began the marvelous work of making the grasses grow and the flowers bloom. Brooks and rivers flowed through the green meadows. Birds hastened back from the Southland and built their nests in the forests. Soon the whole land was filled with the joys and blessings of summer.

A LEGEND OF THE FLOWERS

(AUSTRALIAN)

Long, long ago the great Byamee left the earth and went to dwell in the far-away land of rest, which was beyond the tops of the Oobi Oobi mountain. The earth became a dull and desolate place after he left it, for all the flowers that brightened the plains and hillsides ceased to bloom.

And since there were no blossoms the bees could no longer make honey for the earth children. In all the land there were but three trees where the bees lived and worked; and no one ever touched these sacred trees, because they belonged to Byamee.

The children cried for honey, and the mothers took little bark baskets into the woods to search for the sweet food. But they returned with empty baskets and said, "There is no honey except on the sacred trees. We will never touch Byamee's honey."

This obedience pleased the Great Spirit very much and he said, "I'll send the earth children a food as sweet as the honey for which they hunger. It shall flow from the Bilbil and Goolabah trees."

Soon were seen white, sugary specks on the shining leaves of these trees, and then came the clear manna, which ran along the branches and down the trunks, and hardened into sugar. The children were delighted with the sweet food, and all the people were thankful for Byamee's gift.

But they were not satisfied, for they still wished to see the plains and hillsides covered with blossoms. So deeply did they long for the beautiful flowers, which had left the earth, that the wise men finally said, "We will travel to the land of Byamee, and ask him to brighten the earth again with flowers."

They kept the plan and purpose of their journey a secret from the tribes, and sped away to the northeast. On and on they journeyed until they came to the foot of the great Oobi Oobi mountain, whose summit was lost in the clouds of the sky. They walked along the base of its rocky sides, wondering how they could scale the steep ascent when suddenly they spied a foothold cut in a rock, and then they noticed another step and still another. Looking carefully upward, they saw a pathway of steps cut as far as they could see up the mountain side. Up this ladder of stone they determined to climb. On and on they went, and when the first day's ascent was ended the top of the mountain still seemed high above them. They noticed, too, that they were climbing a spiral path, which wound round and round the mountain. Not until the end of the fourth day's climb did they reach the summit of this mighty mountain.

And from a basin in the marble there bubbled forth a spring of clear, sweet water, which the wise men drank eagerly. Their hard journey had almost exhausted them, but the cooling draught filled them again with new life. At a little distance from the spring they saw a circle of piled-up stones. They walked to the center of it, and a voice spoke to them. It came from a fairy messenger of the Great Spirit.

"Why have the wise men of the earth ventured so near to the dwelling of Byamee?" asked the spirit voice.

And the men answered, "Since the great Byamee left the earth no flowers have bloomed there. We have come to ask for the gift of flowers, because the earth is very dreary without their gay colors."

Then the fairy messenger's voice said, "Attendant spirits of the mountain, lift the wise men into the abode of Byamee, where fadeless flowers never cease to bloom. Of these blossoms, wise men, you may gather as many as you can hold in your hands. After you have gathered the flowers the attendant spirits will lift you back into the magic circle on the summit of Oobi Oobi. From this place you must return as quickly as possible to your tribes."

As the voice stopped speaking, the men were lifted up through an opening in the sky and set down in a land of wondrous beauty. Everywhere brilliant flowers were blooming, and they were massed together in lines of exquisite colors, which looked like hundreds of rainbows lying on the grass. The wise men were overcome by the marvelous sight, and they wept tears of joy.

Remembering what they had come for, they stooped down and gathered quickly as many blossoms as they could hold. The spirits then lifted them down again into the magic circle on the top of Oobi Oobi.

There they heard again the voice of the fairy messenger who said, "Tell your people when you take them these flowers that never again shall the earth be bare and dreary. All through the seasons certain blossoms shall be brought by the different winds, but the east wind shall bring them in abundance to the trees and shrubs. Among the grasses, on plains and hillsides, flowers shall bloom as thick as hairs on an opossom's skin. When the sweet-breathed wind does not blow,—first to bring the showers and then the flowers,—the bees can make only enough honey for themselves. During this time manna shall again drop from the trees, and it shall take the place of honey until the east wind once more blows the rain down the mountains and opens the blossoms for the bees. Then there will be honey enough for all. Now make haste and take this promise and the fadeless flowers, which are a sign of it to your people."

The voice ceased and the wise men, carrying the fadeless blossoms, began the journey back to their people. Down the stone ladder, cut by the spirits of the mountain, they went,—across the plains, over the moors,—back to the camp of the tribes. Their people flocked around them, gazing with wide-eyed wonder at the blossoms. The air was filled with a delicious fragrance, and the flowers were as fresh as when they were plucked in the land of Byamee.

When the people had gazed for some time at the beautiful flowers and had heard the promise sent to them by Byamee, the wise men scattered their precious gift far and wide. Some of the lovely blossoms fell on the treetops, some on the plains and hillsides, and ever since that far-off day the earth has been blessed with the gift of flowers. (Adapted.)

JUNE

And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays;
Whether we look or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;
Every clod feels a stir of might,
An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, groping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

THE SUN-GODDESS

FRANK RINDER

Ama-Terasu, the sun-goddess, was seated in the Blue Plain of Heaven. Her light came as a message of joy to the celestial deities. The orchid and the iris, the cherry and the plum blossom, the rice and the hemp fields answered to her smile. The Inland Sea was veiled in soft, rich colors.

Susa-no-o, the brother of Ama-Terasu, who had resigned his ocean scepter, and now reigned as the moon-god, was jealous of his sister's glory and world-wide sway. The Heaven Illuminating Spirit had but to whisper and she was heard throughout her kingdom, even in the depths of the clear pool in the heart of the crystal. Her rice-fields, whether situated on hillside, in sheltered valley or by running stream, yielded abundant harvests, and her groves were laden with fruit. But the voice of Susa-no-o was not so clear, his smile was not so radiant. The undulating fields which lay around his palace were now flooded, now parched, and his rice crops were often destroyed. The wrath and jealousy of the moon-god knew no bounds, yet Ama-Terasu was infinitely patient and forgave him all things.

Once, as was her wont, the sun-goddess sat in the central court of her flower home. She plied the shuttle. Celestial weaving maidens surrounded a fountain whose waters were fragrant with the heavenly lotus-bloom; they sang softly of the clouds and the wind, and the light of the sky. Suddenly, the body of a piebald horse fell through the vast dome at their feet; the "Beloved of the gods" had been flayed with a backward flaying by the envious Susa-no-o. Ama-Terasu, trembling at the sight, pricked her finger with the weaving shuttle and, profoundly indignant at the cruelty of her brother, withdrew into a cave, and closed behind her the door of the Heavenly Rich Dwelling.

The universe was plunged in darkness. Joy and goodwill, serenity and peace, hope and love waned with the waning light. Evil Spirits who heretofore had crouched in dim corners came forth and roamed abroad. Then grim laughter and discordant tones struck terror into all hearts.

Then it was that the gods, fearful for their safety and for the life of every beautiful thing, assembled on the bed of the tranquil River of Heaven whose waters had been dried up. One and all knew that Ama-Terasu alone could help them. But how allure the Heaven-Illuminating Spirit to set foot in this world of darkness and strife. Each god was eager to aid and a plan was finally devised to entice her from her hiding place.

Ame-no-ko uprooted the holy sakaki trees which grew on the mountain of Heaven, and planted them around the entrance of the cave. High on the upper branches were hung the precious string of curved jewels which Izanagi had bestowed upon the sun-goddess. From the middle branches drooped a mirror wrought of the rare metals of the celestial mine. Its polished surface was as the dazzling brilliancy of the sun. Other gods wove fine threads of hemp and paper mulberry on an imperial robe of white and blue which was placed as an offering to the goddess, on the lower branches of the Sakaki.

A palace was also built surrounded by a garden in which the blossom-god called forth many delicate plants and flowers.

Now all was ready. Ame-no-ko stepped forward and in a loud voice entreated Ama-Terasu to show herself. His appeal was in vain. The great festival began. Uzume, the goddess of mirth, led the dance and song. Leaves of the spindle tree crowned her head; club moss from the heavenly mount of Kagu formed her sash; her flowing sleeves were bound with the creeper-vine; and in her hand she carried leaves of the wild bamboo and waved a wand of sun-grass hung with tiny melodious bells. Uzume blew on a bamboo flute while eight hundred myriad deities, accompanied her on wooden clappers and instruments formed of bow-strings across which were rapidly drawn stalks of reed and grass. Great fires were lighted around the cave and as these were reflected in the face of the mirror the long singing birds of eternal night began to crow as if day had dawned. The merriment increased. The dance grew wilder and wilder and the gods laughed until the heavens shook as if with thunder.

Ama-Terasu in her quiet retreat heard unmoved the crowing of cocks and the sounds of music and dancing; but when the heavens shook with the laughter of the gods she peeped from her cave and said, "What means this? I thought heaven and earth were dark but now there is light. Uzume dances and all the gods laugh." Uzume answered, "It is true that I dance and that the gods laugh because in our midst is a goddess whose splendour equals your own!" Ama-Terasu gazed into the mirror and wondered greatly when she saw therein a goddess of exceeding beauty—her own lovely image. She stepped from her cave and forthwith a cord of rice-straw was drawn across the entrance. Darkness fled from the land and there was light. Then the eight hundred myriad deities cried, "O, may the sun-goddess never leave us again." (Adapted slightly.)

THE SUMMER MAKER

(OJIBWAY LEGEND)

Once upon a time the winter season lasted for so many many months that the people began to wonder if the frozen rivers and deep snows would ever melt. "Will the keen north wind never leave us?" they asked each other anxiously. "What has become of the beautiful warm summer?"

The only person who seemed happy during this long, cold season was Ojeeb, a mighty hunter. He enjoyed the adventure of searching for the big winter game and his eye was so keen and his hand so steady that he never failed to bring abundance of food to his wigwam.

Ojeeb's little son liked to hunt with his father but the lad suffered much from the bitter cold. Often his fingers became so numb that he could not speed his small arrow skilfully and he would fail in his aim. This always vexed him very much and he would wish for the summer days to come.

One day, when Ojeeb and his son were hunting, the lad became so cold that he was obliged to leave his father and return to the wigwam. When he was hurrying through the woods he heard a squirrel chattering very loud on a pine tree. He stopped for a moment and the squirrel said, "Don't shoot me. I'm going to tell you a secret. I've often heard you wish for summer. The mighty hunter, who is your father, knows how to bring summer back to the earth. When he comes home beg him to send away this bitter cold weather and bring us the warm sunny days." Off scampered the chattering squirrel, and the lad ran on to his wigwam.

In the evening Ojeeb came home with some excellent game which he showed with pride, but his son took little interest in it. He began to talk about the cruel cold weather. Finally he said, "Father, drive away the keen winds, the frost, and the snow, and bring summer back to the earth. For many months the Red Men have borne the trials of winter. It is hard for some of them to get enough food, for few are as skilful with the bow and arrow as Ojeeb. Send away the cold days and bring us the bright, warm summer again."

"You are asking me to perform a mighty task," said Ojeeb, "but I'll do my best to grant your request. It is true that I know the secret of bringing summer back to the earth."

The next morning Ojeeb prepared a feast, and invited a number of his animal friends to dine with him. At the appointed time, Otter, Beaver, Lynx, Badger, and Wolverine all came to Ojeeb's lodge. There they feasted and listened with interest to the mighty hunter's plan to bring summer back to the earth.

"We shall have to take a long and dangerous journey and perhaps we shall never return to our homes," he said. "Are you brave enough to help me in this mighty task?"

The animals all said they were willing to follow and help Ojeeb, and begged him to tell them his plan. To their astonishment the hunter said the only way to bring back the summer was to break through the great dome of Sky-Land, and free the summer birds which were imprisoned there.

"But how shall we reach Sky-Land?" asked the animals in one voice.

"I'll lead the way," said the hunter.

The next day they started on the journey to Sky-Land. Ojeeb led the way up a steep, smooth mountain-side. For twenty days they traveled and finally they came to a curious lodge in a hollow. The Mountain Manito lived there. He gave Ojeeb and his animal friends food, and sheltered them until they were refreshed. The hunter told him the object of their coming and the Manito pointed out to them a certain pathway which led to the summit of the mountain. For twenty days more they traveled. They were now high up above the clouds. The blue dome of the sky seemed but a short distance above their heads. They rested for awhile and gazed in silent wonder at the beautiful canopy which separated them from Sky-Land.

Finally Ojeeb said, "Our difficult task is only half done. We must leap up and break through the dome of the Sky and set free the summer birds. This is a mighty task I assure you. The Mountain Manito directed me to say that you, Otter, are to make the first trial."

Otter was delighted to be chosen first. Without taking due consideration of the great height, he immediately made a bound upward. But, alas! He fell headlong through the air to the mountain-side and rolled down, down to the plain below. The Beaver made the next effort, but he too missed the sky dome and fell with a thud to the earth. Lynx made a great leap and so did Badger but each failed to touch the great dome of the sky.

Ojeeb was growing very anxious, indeed. "Wolverine," he said, "measure the height carefully. You have great skill in leaping. Do not fail me."

Wolverine made a wonderful leap. His ears grazed the dome. Again he sprang upward with a mighty bound and lo! he made a dent in the sky. A third time he tried and such a prodigious leap he made that a great rent was torn in the blue dome. And Wolverine passed through into Sky-Land. Ojeeb immediately sprang after him.

They found themselves in a land of wondrous beauty. The air was soft and warm and a delicious fragrance rose from rich, green meadows thick with brilliant flowers. Ojeeb and Wolverine walked toward a group of tepees which stood near a lake of crystal-clear water bordered by cool stretches of woodland. Evidently the people were away on a hunting adventure for the tepees were vacant. Presently Ojeeb saw a great cage made from the finest of willow withes and enclosed therein were the beautiful summer birds. Robins, orioles, bluebirds, thrushes, jays, swallows, woodpeckers, veeries, and redbirds, all were flitting silently about in their prison.

"Let us free the summer birds quickly," whispered the hunter.

With Wolverine's help the cage was broken in a very short time. Out flew the bright-feathered prisoners. As soon as they were free they began to sing rapturous songs of happiness. Away they darted toward the opening in the sky-dome and many of them passed through, carrying with them the warm, summer air.

But alas! the sweet singing reached the ears of the Sky-People who were in the neighbouring forests. They hurried toward their tepees to see what had happened. They soon discovered that the summer birds had been freed and were flying toward the earth through a great rent in the sky-dome. Many of the Sky-People, shouting at the top of their voices, rushed to the opening and prevented some of the birds from escaping. Others searched for the intruders who had caused the confusion.

Wolverine's quick ears heard the Sky-People running from the forest and with great leaps he reached the hole in the sky-dome and plunged through. Ojeeb followed as quickly as he could but before he reached the opening it was surrounded by some of the Sky-People. He turned and fled in another direction, but there was no other way of escaping to the earth. On and on he ran until finally he came to the land of the stars and he has dwelt there ever since.

Among the Earth-People there was great rejoicing. The warm air from Sky-Land melted the frost and snow which had covered the land for many, many months. In the brown meadows the grass sprang forth and flowers bloomed. The summer birds built their nests in the leafy branches of the forest and cheered the Earth-People with happy songs.

The mighty hunter is not forgotten. Often the Indians point to Sky-Land and say:

"It was brave Ojeeb who journeyed to Sky-Land and freed the summer birds. He gave us the precious gift of summer and that is why we call him 'The Summer Maker.'"

SUMMER

Then came the jolly Summer, being dight
In a thin, silken cassock, colour'd green,
That was unlinèd all, to be more light;
And on his head a garland well beseen
He wore.

EDMUND SPENSER.

IN THE KITCHEN-GARDEN

MRS. ALFRED GATTY

One—two—three—four—five; five neatly-raked kitchen-garden beds, four of them side by side, with a pathway between; the fifth a narrow slip, heading the others, and close to the gravel walk, as it was for succession-crops of mustard and cress, which are often wanted in a hurry for breakfast or tea.

Most people have stood by such beds in their own kitchen-garden on soft spring mornings and evenings, and looked for the coming up of the seed which either they or the gardener had sown.

Radishes in one, for instance, and of all three sorts—white-turnip, red-turnip, and long-tailed. Carrots in another; and this bed had been dug very deep indeed that the roots might strike freely down. Onions in another. Beets in the fourth, both the golden and red varieties, while the narrow slip was half mustard and half cress.

Such was the plan here, at least, and here, for a time, all the seeds lay sleeping, as it seemed. For, as the long smooth-raked beds stretched out dark and bare under the stars, they betrayed no symptoms of anything going on within.

Nevertheless, there was no sleeping in the case. The little seed-grains were fulfilling the law of their being, each after its kind; the grains, all but their inner germs, decaying; the germs swelling and growing, till they rose out of their cradles, and made their way, through their earthen coverlid, to the light of day.

They did not all come up quite together, of course, nor all quite alike. But as to the time, the gardener had made his arrangements so cleverly, that none was very far behind his neighbour. And as to the difference of shape in the first young leaves, what could it signify? It is true the young Mustards were round and thick; the Cresses oval and pointed; the Carrots mere green threads; the Onions sharp little blades, while the Beets had an odd, stainy look. But they all woke up to the same life and enjoyment, and were all greeted with friendly welcome as they appeared, by the dew and light, and sunshine, and breezes.

"I find I get deeper and deeper into the soil every day," remarked the Carrot. "I shall be I don't know how long, at last. I have been going down regularly, quite straight, for weeks. Then I am tapering off to a long point at the end, in the most beautiful proportions possible. A traveller told me, the other day, this was perfection, and I believe he was right."

"I knew what it was to live near the surface in my young days," the Carrot went on; "but never felt solid enjoyment till I struck deeply down, where all is so rich and warm. Pray tell me, neighbours," added he, good-naturedly enough, "I should like to know that your roots are as long, and slim, and orange-coloured as mine; doing as well, in fact, and sinking as far down. I wish us to be all perfect alike. Perfection is the great thing to try for."

"When you are sure you are trying in the right way," sneered a voice from the neighbouring radish bed. "But if the long, slim, orange-roots striking deep into the earth are your idea of perfection, I advise you to begin life over again. Dear me! I wish you had consulted us before. Why, we stopped going down long ago, and have been spreading out sideways and all ways, into stout, round solid balls ever since, close white flesh throughout, inside; and not orange but red, without."

"White, he means," shouted another.

"Red, I call it," repeated the first.

"But no matter; certainly not orange!"

And "certainly not orange!" cried they all.

"So," continued the Radish, "we are quite concerned to hear you ramble on about growing longer and longer, and strongly advise you to keep your own counsel, and not mention it to any one else. We are friendly, you know, and can be trusted; but you really must leave off wasting your powers and energy in the dark inside of the ground, out of everybody's sight and knowledge. Come to the surface, and make the most of it, as we do, and then you'll be a credit to your friends. Never mind what travellers say. They've nothing else to do but to walk about and talk, and they tell us we are perfection, too. Don't trust to them, but to what we tell you now, and alter your course at once. Roll yourself up into a firm round ball as fast as you can. You won't find it hard if you once begin. You have only to——"

"Let me put in a word first," interrupted one of the long-tailed Radishes in the same bed; "for it is of no use to go out of one extreme into another, which you are on the high road to do if you are disposed to take Mr. Roundhead's advice; who, by the way, ought to be ashamed of forcing his very peculiar views upon his neighbours. Just look at us. We always strike moderately down, so we know it's the right thing to do. Solid round balls are the most unnatural and useless things in the world. But, on the other hand, my dear friend, we have learnt where to stop, and a great secret it is, but one I fear you know nothing about at present; and as to the soil's being better so very far down, nobody can believe it, for why should it be? The great art is to make the most of what is at hand, as we do. Time enough to go into the depths when you have used up what is so much easier got at. The man who gathered some of us yesterday, called out, 'These are just right.' So I leave you to judge whether some other people we know of must not be wrong."

"You rather overwhelm me," mused the Carrot, "though it's remarkable you counsellors should not agree among yourselves. Is it possible, however, that I have been making a great mistake all my life? What lost time to look back upon! Yet a ball;—no, no, not a ball! I don't think I could grow into a solid round ball were I to try forever!"

"Not having tried, how can you tell?" whispered the Turnip-Radish persuasively.

"But you never will, if you listen to our old-fashioned friend next door, who has been halting between two opinions all his life;—will neither make an honest fat lump of it, as I do, nor plunge down and taper with you. But nothing can be done without an effort."

"That is true," murmured the Carrot, rather sadly; "but I am too old for further efforts myself. Mistake or no mistake, my fate is fixed. I am too far down to get up again, that's certain; but some of the young ones may try. Do you hear, dears? Some of you stop short, if you can, and grow out sideways and all ways, into stout, round, solid balls."

"Oh, nonsense about round balls!" cried the long-tailed Radish in disgust; "what will the world come to, if this folly goes on! Listen to me, youngsters, I beg. Go to a moderate depth, and be content; and if you want something to do, throw out a few fibres for amusement. You're firm enough without them, I know, but the employment will pass away time."

"There are strange delusions abroad just now," remarked the Onions to each other; "do you hear all this talk about shape and way of growth? and everybody in the dark on the subject, though they seem to be quite unconscious of the fact themselves. That fellow chattered about solid balls, as if there was no such thing as bulbs, growing layer upon layer, and coat over coat. Of course the very long orange gentleman, with his tapering root, is the most wrong of the whole party; but I doubt if Mr. Roundhead is much wiser when he speaks of close, white flesh inside, and red (of all ridiculous nonsense!) without. Where are their flaky skins, I should like to know? Who is ever to peel them, I wonder? Poor things! I can't think how they got into such ways. How tough and obstinate they must be! I wish we lived nearer. We would teach them a little better than that, and show them what to do."

"I have lived near you long enough," grumbled a deep-red Beet in the next bed; "and you have never taught me; neither shall you, if I can help it. A pretty instructor you would be, who think it ridiculous to be red! I suppose you can't grow red yourself, and so abuse the colour out of spite. Now I flatter myself I am red inside as well as out, so I suppose I am more ridiculous than your friend who contrives to keep himself white within, according to his own account; but I doubt the fact. There, there! it is a folly to be angry, so I say no more, except this! get red as fast as you can. You live in the same soil as I do, and ought to be able to do so."

"Oh, don't call it red!" exclaimed a golden Beet, who was of a gentle turn of mind; "it is but a pale tint after all, and surely rather amber than red; and perhaps that was what the long-tailed orange gentleman meant."

"Perhaps it was; for perhaps he calls red orange, as you call it amber," answered the redder Beet; "anyhow he has rather more sense than our neighbor here, with his layer upon layer, and coat over coat, and flaky skin over all. Think of wasting time in such fiddle-faddle proceedings! Grow a good honest fleshy substance, and have done with it, and let people see you know what life is capable of. I always look at results. It is something to get such a body as I do out of the surrounding soil. That is living to some purpose, I consider. Nobody makes more of opportunities than I do."

"Do you hear them? oh! do you hear them?" whispered the Cress to her neighbour the Mustard. "Do you hear how they all talk together of their growth, and their roots, and their bulbs, and size, and colour, and shape? It makes me quite unhappy, for I am doing nothing like that myself—nothing, nothing, though I live in the same soil! What is to be done? What do you do? Do you grow great white solid balls, or long orange tapering roots, or thick red flesh, or bulbs with layer upon layer, and coat over coat? Some of them talked of just throwing out a few fibres as a mere amusement to pass away time; and this is all I ever do for business. Do speak to me, but whisper what you say, for I shame to be heard or thought of."

"I grow only fibres too," groaned the Mustard in reply; "but I would spread every way and all ways if I could—downwards and upwards, and sideways and all ways, like the rest. I wish I had never been sown. Better never be sown and grown, than sown and grown to such trifling purpose! The soil must give them what it refuses to us."

"Or we are weak and helpless, and cannot take in what it offers," suggested the Cress. "Alas! that we should have been sown only to be useless and unhappy!"

And they wept the evening through. But they alone were not unhappy. The Carrot had become uneasy, and could follow his natural tastes no longer in comfort, for thinking that he ought to be a solid round ball, white inside, and red without. The Onion had sore misgivings that the Beet might be right after all, and a good honest mass of red flesh be more worth labouring for, than the pale coat-within-coat growth in which he had indulged. It did seem a waste of trouble, a fiddle-faddle plan of life, he feared. Perhaps he had not gone down far enough in soil. Some one talked of growing fibres for amusement—he had certainly not come to that; they were necessary to his support; he couldn't hold fast without them. Other people were more independent than he was, then; perhaps wiser,—alas!

And yet the Beet himself was not quite easy; for talk as he would, what he had called fiddle-faddle seemed ingenious when he thought it over, and he would like to have persuaded himself that he grew layer upon layer, too. But it wouldn't do.

Perhaps, in fact, the bold little Turnip-Radishes alone, were the only ones free from misgivings, and believed that everybody ought to do as they did themselves.

What a disturbance there was, to be sure! And it got worse and worse, and they called on the winds and fleeting clouds, the sun, and moon, and stars above their heads, to stay their course awhile, and declare who was right and who was wrong.

But they called and asked in vain; till one evening, the clouds which had been gathering over the garden for days began to come down in rain, and sank swiftly into the ground, where it had been needed for long. Whereupon there was a general cry, "Here comes a messenger; now we shall hear!"

So out came the old inquiries again:—who was right—who was wrong—who had got hold of the true secret? But the Cress made no inquiry at all, only shook with fright under the rain; "for," thought she, "the hour of my shame and degradation is come: poor useless creature that I am, I shall never more hold up my head."

As to the Carrot, into whose well-dug bed the rain found easiest entrance, and sank deepest, he held forth in most eloquent style upon the whole affair; how it was started, and what he had said; how much he had once hoped; how much he now feared.

Now, the Rain-drops did not care to answer in a hurry; but as they came dropping down, they murmured, "Peace, peace, peace!" all over the beds. And truly they seemed to bring peace with them as they fell, so that a calm sank all around, and then the murmur proceeded:—"Poor little atoms in a boundless kingdom,—each one of you good after its kind—how came these cruel misgivings and heart-burnings among you? Are the tops of the mountains wrong because they cannot grow corn like the valleys? Are the valleys wrong because they cannot soar into the sky? Does the brook flow in vain because it cannot spread out like the sea? Each is good after its kind. Peace, peace, peace. Upon one, then, upon all—each wanted, each useful, each good after its kind—peace, peace, peace, peace, peace!"

The murmur subsided to a whisper, the whisper into silence; and by the time the moon-shadows lay upon the garden there was peace everywhere.

Nor was it broken again; for henceforth even the Cress held up her head—she, also, was good after her kind.

Only once or twice, that year, when the Carrots were gathered, there came up the strangest growths—thick, distorted lumps, that had never struck properly down.

The gardener wondered, and was vexed, for he prided himself on the digging of the carrot-bed. "Anything that had had any sense might have gone down into it, I am sure," he said. And he was not far wrong; but you see the Carrot had had no sense when he began to speculate, and tried to be something he was not intended to be.

Yet the poor clumsy thing was not quite useless after all. For, just as the gardener was about to fling it angrily away, he recollected that the cook might use it for soup, though it could not be served up at table—such a shape as it was!

And this was exactly what she did. (Abridged.)

GLAD DAY

Here's another day, dear,
Here's the sun again
Peeping in his pleasant way
Through the window pane.
Rise and let him in, dear,
Hail him, "Hip hurray!"
Now the fun will all begin,
Here's another day!

Down the coppice path, dear,
Through the dewy glade,
(When the Morning took her bath
What a splash she made!)
Up the wet wood-way, dear,
Under dripping green,
Run and meet another day
Brightest ever seen.

Mushrooms in the field, dear,
Show their silver gleam,
What a dainty crop they yield
Firm as clouted cream,
Cool as balls of snow, dear,
Sweet and fresh and round!
Ere the early dews can go
We must clear the ground.

Such a lot to do, dear,
Such a lot to see!
How we ever can get through
Fairly puzzles me.
Hurry up and out, dear,
Then—away! away!
In and out and round about,
Here's another day!

W. GRAHAM ROBERTSON.

Used by permission of John Lane Company.

THE SUMMER PRINCESS

MRS. MOLESWORTH

Once upon a time, in a country far to the north of the world, lived a King and a Queen who had everything they could wish for except an heir to their throne. That does not mean that they had no troubles at all. The Queen thought she had a good many and the King had one which was more real than any of her fancied ones. His Queen was a terrible grumbler. She was a grumbler by nature, and besides this she had been a spoiled child.

As she was very beautiful and could be very sweet and charming when in a contented mood, the King had fallen deeply in love with her when he was on his travels round the world, and had persuaded her to leave her own home in the sunny South to accompany him to his northern kingdom.