Now willows have their pussies,
Now ferns in meadow lands
Hold little downy leaflets,
Like clinging baby hands.
Like rosy baby fingers
Show oak-leaves 'gainst the blue;
The little ones of nature
Are ev'rywhere in view.
There's purring in a sunbeam
Where Tabby's babies play.
The hen is softly brooding,
Her chickens came to-day.
Up in the crimson maple
The mother robin sings;
The world is full of caring
For little helpless things.
MARY E. WILKINS.
From "Songs of Happy Life," by permission of publishers.
EARTHWORMS AND SNAKES.
The little earthworm, crawling across the garden path or burrowing its way into the loose soil, seems very common and insignificant, but it is a most useful servant to man.
Without the earthworms it would be difficult for us to live. It is by their help that grass grows for the cattle, and the garden yields food for our own use.
Long before any one thought of making a plough, the hard lumps of earth were broken up by the slender bodies of the earthworms. These worms have no eyes or feelers or feet, but they have, on each ring of their bodies, four pairs of bristles, which aid them in making their way through the earth.
Air is let into the soil through the holes that the worms make, and the moisture is drained away. Thus the roots of the plants are kept in good condition.
Worms are useful in another way. They can make poor soil into rich mould. This they do by swallowing earth and dried leaves.
After passing through the body of the worm, the earth is cast up in little heaps, which are soon scattered by the wind and rain. Hundreds of these "casts" may be seen in any large garden, and thus the whole surface is constantly changing.
In this way fields which were unfit for crops of any kind are made ready for the farmer's use. In some places it has been found that ten tons of dry earth on every acre are made into good soil each year by the worms.