II
The very next day one of the birds dropped out of the nest, and in a moment a cat ate it up. Only four remained, and the parent birds were very sad. There was no song all that day, nor the next.
Soon the little birds were big enough to fly. The first bird that tried his wings flew from one branch to another. His parents praised him, and the other baby birds wondered how he had done it.
The little one was so proud of it that he tried again. He flew and flew and couldn't stop flying. At last he fell plump! down by the kitchen door. A little boy caught him and carried him into the house.
Now only three birds were left. The sun no longer seemed bright to the birds, and they did not sing so often.
In a little time the other birds learned to use their wings, and they flew away and away. They found their own food and made their own nests.
Then the old birds sat silent and looked at each other a long while. At last the mother bird asked, "Why don't you sing?"
"I can't sing," the father bird answered. "I only think and think!"
"What are you thinking of?"
"I am thinking how everything changes. The leaves are falling, and soon there will be no roof over our heads. The flowers are all gone. Last night there was a frost. Almost all the birds have flown away, and I am restless. Something calls me, and I feel that I must fly away, too."
"Let us fly away together!" the mother bird said.
Then they rose silently up in the air. They looked to the north; far away they saw the snow coming. They looked to the south; there they saw green leaves.
All day they flew. All night they flew and flew, till they found a land where there was no winter. There it was summer all the time; flowers always blossomed and birds always sang.
—HENRY WARD BEECHER
[BOB WHITE]
There's a plump little chap in a speckled coat,
And he sits on the zigzag rails remote,
Where he whistles at breezy, bracing morn,
When the buckwheat is ripe, and stacked is the corn:
"Bob White! Bob White! Bob White!"
Is he hailing some comrade as blithe as he?
Now I wonder where Robert White can be!
O'er the billows of gold and amber grain
There is no one in sight—but, hark again:
"Bob White! Bob White! Bob White!"
Ah! I see why he calls; in the stubble there
Hide his plump little wife and babies fair!
So contented is he, and so proud of the same,
That he wants all the world to know his name:
"Bob White! Bob White! Bob White!"
—GEORGE COOPER.
[HOW MARY GOT A NEW DRESS]
Mary lived a long time ago. She was a little girl when your great-great-grandmother was a little girl.
In those days all cloth had to be made at home. Aunt Dinah, Aunt Chloe, and Aunt Dilsey were kept busy spinning and weaving to make clothes for the whole plantation.
One day Mary's mother said, "Aunt Dilsey, Mary needs a new dress, and I want you to weave some cloth at once. Can you weave some very fine cloth?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Aunt Dilsey. "I have some cotton I've been saving to make her a dress."
Aunt Dilsey got out the cards and carded the cotton smooth and fine. Then she fastened a roll of this cotton to the spindle and sent the wheel whirling around with a "Zum-m-m-m—Zum-m-m-m!"
Mary stood and watched the old woman.
"Aunt Dilsey," she said, "the spinning wheel sings a song, and I know what it says. Grandmother told me. It says,
'A hum and a whirl,
A twist and a twirl,
This is for the girl
With the golden curl!
Zum-m-m-m-m-m!
Zum-m-m-m-m-m!'"
"And that means you, honey," said Aunt Dilsey.
When the yarn was ready, Aunt Dilsey fastened it in the loom and began to weave. The threads went over and under, over and under. As Aunt Dilsey wove, she hummed. Mary stood by and sang this song,
"Over and under and over we go,
Weaving the cotton as white as the snow,
Weaving the cloth for a dress, oh, ho!
As over and under and over we go."
After the cloth had been woven, Aunt Dilsey took it out of the loom. Then she bleached it until it was as white as snow. Now it was ready to be made into a dress.
"Mother, do tell me how you are going to make the dress," said Mary. "Will it have ruffles on it like Sue's? Will it have trimming on it? And how many buttons will you put on it? Sue's dress has twelve; I know, for I counted them."
Mother did not answer all these questions; she just smiled as the scissors went snip, snip into the cloth. But she did cut out ruffles, and Aunt Maria began to hem them.
By and by grandmother came into the room.
"Mary," she said, "here is some lace I got in England. Mother may put it on your dress."
How happy Mary was! She danced for joy.
Mother put on the lace, and grandmother worked the buttonholes. How many do you suppose she worked? Why, she worked twelve!
When the dress was finished, it was just like Sue's. Only it was a great deal finer, for Mary's dress had three ruffles and Sue's had only two! And, then, there was the lace from England!
[THE PLAID DRESS]
"I want a warm plaid dress," said a little girl. "The days are colder, and the frost will soon be here. But how can I get it? Mother says that she cannot buy one for me."
The old white sheep in the meadow heard her, and he bleated to the shepherd, "The little girl wants a warm plaid dress. I will give my wool. Who else will help?"
The kind shepherd said, "I will." Then he led the old white sheep to the brook and washed its wool. When it was clean and white, he said, "The little girl wants a warm plaid dress. The sheep has given his wool, and I have washed it clean and white. Who else will help?"
"We will," said the shearers. "We will bring our shears and cut off the wool."
The shearers cut the soft wool from the old sheep, and then they called, "The little girl wants a new dress. The sheep has given his wool. The shepherd has washed it; and we have sheared it. Who else will help?"
"We will," cried the carders. "We will comb it out straight and smooth."
Soon they held up the wool, carded straight and smooth, and they cried, "The little girl wants a new dress. The sheep has given his wool. The shepherd has washed the wool. The shearers have cut it, and we have carded it. Who else will help?"
"We will," said the spinners. "We will spin it into thread."
"Whirr, whirr!" How fast the spinning wheels turned, singing all the time.
Soon the spinners said, "The little girl wants a new dress. The sheep has given his wool. The shepherd has washed the wool. The shearers have cut it. The carders have carded it, and we have spun it into thread. Who else will help?"
"We will," said the dyers. "We will dye it with beautiful colors."
Then they dipped the woven threads into bright dye, red and blue and green and brown.
As they spread the wool out to dry, the dyers called: "The little girl wants a new dress. The sheep has given his wool. The shepherd has washed the wool. The shearers have cut it. The carders have carded it. The spinners have spun it, and we have dyed it with bright beautiful colors. Who else will help?"
"We will," said the weavers. "We will make it into cloth."
"Clickety-clack! clickety-clack!" went the loom, as the colored thread was woven over and under over and under. Before long it was made into beautiful plaid cloth.
Then the little girl's mother cut and made the dress. It was a beautiful plaid dress, and the little girl loved to wear it. Every time she put it on, she thought of her friends who had helped her,—the sheep, the shearers, the carders, the spinners, the dyers, the weavers, and her own dear mother.
[THE GODDESS OF THE SILKWORM]
Hoangti was the emperor of China. He had a beautiful wife whose name was Si-ling. The emperor and his wife loved their people and always thought of their happiness.
In those days the Chinese people wore clothes made of skins. By and by animals grew scarce, and the people did not know what they should wear. The emperor and empress tried in vain to find some other way of clothing them.
One morning Hoangti and his wife were in the beautiful palace garden. They walked up and down, up and down, talking of their people.
Suddenly the emperor said, "Look at those worms on the mulberry trees, Si-ling. They seem to be spinning."
Si-ling looked, and sure enough, the worms were spinning. A long thread was coming from the mouth of each, and each little worm was winding this thread around its body.
Si-ling and the emperor stood still and watched the worms. "How wonderful!" said Si-ling.
The next morning Hoangti and the empress walked under the trees again. They found some worms still winding thread. Others had already spun their cocoons and were fast asleep. In a few days all of the worms had spun cocoons.
"This is indeed a wonderful, wonderful thing!" said Si-ling. "Why, each worm has a thread on its body long enough to make a house for itself!"
Si-ling thought of this day after day. One morning as she and the emperor walked under the trees, she said, "I believe I could find a way to weave those long threads into cloth."
"But how could you unwind the threads?" asked the emperor.
"I'll find a way," Si-ling said. And she did; but she had to try many, many times.
She put the cocoons in a hot place, and the little sleepers soon died. Then the cocoons were thrown into boiling water to make the threads soft. After that the long threads could be easily unwound.
Now Si-ling had to think of something else; she had to find a way to weave the threads into cloth. After many trials, she made a loom—the first that was ever made. She taught others to weave, and soon hundreds of people were making cloth from the threads of the silkworm.
The people ever afterward called Si-ling "The Goddess of the Silkworm." And whenever the emperor walked with her in the garden, they liked to watch the silkworms spinning threads for the good of their people.