Emilie Poulsson.

In the child's world; morning talks and stories for kindergartens, primary schools and homes online

. (page 24 of 29)
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as for moving along through it, that seemed impossible, and she
was tempted to give up once more. It was very hard though;
there was the stick, not more than a foot away from her; if she
could only reach it! At any rate, she was determined it should
not -be her fault if she was unsuccessful; so she battled away
harder than ever, though her strength began to fail and she was
becoming numbed with the cold. Just as she made this last effort
another gust of wind swept over the pond, and Buz saw that the
stick began to move through the water, and to come nearer and
nearer to her. The fact Avas that a small twig sticking up from
it acted as a sail, though Buz did not know this. And now the
stick was quite close, almost within reach; in another moment



IX THE child's world. 359

she would be on it. Ah! but a moment seems a long time when
one is at the last gasp, as poor Buz was.

Would she be drowned after all? Nol Just as she was sink-
ing she touched the stick with one little claw, and held on as only
drowning people can; and then she got another claw safely lodged,
and was able to rest for a juoment. Oh I the relief of tliat, after
such a long and ceaseless struggle!

But even then it was very hard to get up on the stick, very
hard indeed. However, Buz managed it at last, and dragged
herself quite out of the cold water.

By this time the breeze was blowing steadily over the pond,
and the stick would soon reach the bank; but Buz felt very miser-
able and cold, and her Avings clung tightly to her, and she looked
dreadfully forlorn.

The pond, too, was overshadowed by trees; so there were no
sunbeams to warm her. *'Ah!'' thought she, "if lean manage
to drag myself up into the sunshine and rest and be well warmed,
I shall soon be better."

Well I the bank was safely reached at last; but Buz, all through
her life, never forgot what a business it was climbing up the side.
The long grasses yielded to her weight, and bent almost straight
down, as if on purpose to make it as up-hill work for her as pos-
sible. And even when she reached the top it took her a weary
while to get across the patch of dark shadow and out into the
glad sunlight beyond; but she managed to arrive there at last,
and crawling on the top of a stone which had been well warmed
by the sun's rays, she rested for a long time.

At last she recovered sufficiently to nuike her way, by a succes-
sion of short flights, back to the hive. After the first of tliese
flights she felt so dreadfully weak that she almost doubted being
able to accomplish the journey, and began to despond.

"If I ever do get home," she said to herself, "I will tell Hum
all about it, and how right she was to take advice."

Xow whether it was the exercise that did her good, or that
the sun's rays became hotter that afternoon, cannot be known,
but this is certain, that Buz felt better after every flight. When
she reached the end of the clover field, she sipped a little honey,
cleaned herself with her feet, stretched her wings, and, with the



)G0 IX THE child's world.



sun glistening brightly on her, looked quite fine again. Her last
flight brought her to the top of the kitchen-garden wall After
resting here, she opened her wings and flew gaily, to the hive,
which she entered just as if nothing had happened.

Maurice Noel.

Slightly altered from '' Buz,'^ Henry Holt <fe Co., Neio York.



SOLOMON AND THE BEES.
When Solomon was reigning in bis glory,

Unto his throne the Queen of Sheba came —
(So in the Talmud you may read the story) —

Drawn by the magic of the monarch's fame,
To see the splendors of his court, and bring
Some fitting tribute to the mighty King.

Nor this alone: much had her Highness heard
What flowers of learning graced the royal speech;

What gems of wisdom dropped with every word;
What wholesome lessons he was wont to teach

In pleasing proverbs; and she wished, in sooth,

To know if Rumor spoke the simple truth.

Besides, the Queen had heard (which piqued her most)
How through the deepest riddles he could spy;

How all the curious arts that women boast
Were quite transparent to his piercing eye;

And so the Queen had come — a royal guest —

To put the sage's cunning to the test.

And straight she held before the monarch's view,
In either hand, a radiant wreath of flowers;

The one, bedecked with every charming hue,
Was newly culled from Nature's choicest bowers;

The other, no less fair in every part,

Was the rare product of divinest Art.

*' Which is the true, and which the false?" she said.
Great Solomon was silent. All amazed,
Each wondering courtier shook his puzzled head;
While at the garlands long the monarch gazed,
As one who sees a miracle, and fain.
For very rapture, ne'er would speak again.

*' Which is the true?" once more the woman asked,
Pleased at the fond amazement of the King;



IN THE CHlLU'ti WORLD. 361

''So wise a head should not be hardly tasked,

Most learned Liege, with such a trivial thing!"
But still the sage was silent; it was plain
A deepening doubt perplexed the royal brain.

While thus he pondered, presently he sees,

Hard by the casement — so the story goes —
A little band of busy, bustling bees,

Hunting for honey in a withered rose.
The monarch smiled, and raised his royal head;
" Open the window!" — that was all he said.

The window opened at the King's command;

Within the rooms the eager insects flew.
And sought the flowers in Sheba's dexter hand!

And so the king and all the courtiers knew
That wreath was Nature's; and the baffled Queen
Returned to tell the wonders she had seen.

My story teaches (every tale should bear

A fitting moral) that the wise may find
In trifles light as atoms of the air

Some useful lesson to enrich the mind —
Some truth designed to profit or to please —
As Israel's King learned wisdom from the bees.

John G. Saxb.

Houghton, Mifflin <&, Co.



MRS. FLYAWAY.

(A Story of Ants.)



Once upon a time there lived in a big, brown house a very-
dainty little lady. They called her Mrs. Flyaway because she
never wanted to stay at home.

This little person looked as if she had been polished, for she
was very black and very shiny. She had two tiny, gauzy wings
fcnd six legs, so that she could walk quite fast for her size. She
was very small, indeed — not half an inch long.

In fact, she was an ant and lived in an ant-hill.

A great many other ants lived in this same house — almost as
many ants as there are leaves on a tree — so many that you could
not count them.

The brown house stood in the middle of a beautiful green field



3G2 INT THE child's WOULD.



and above it was an elm tree tlirough which the wind sang all
day and all night, so you see it was a very pleasant place to
live in.

Perhaps the brown house would if t have seemed big to a boy or
girl, but it was grand indeed for the little ants, and they were
very proud of it, because they had built it all themselves. It
doesn't seem possible that little ants could build a house, does
it? But I will tell you how they did it.

Of course they had to begin with something very small, so
they chose a blade of grass. Think of beginning to build a house
with a blade of grass!

This blade of grass was standing very straight and stiff under
the elm tree, and one little ant who was a mason said, '"I will-
make some mortar, and then with it I will cover the blade of
grass to make a stout pillar. This will be the beginning of our
house." lie found some soft earth and sticky clay with which
he mixed a little water and tiniest bits of grass and wood,
lie kneaded this with his feet until it was a thick plaster, which
he stuck on the blade of grass. Of course it took him a long
time to cover the whole grass blade, but he worked hard and was
very patient.

When the other ant masons saw what he was doing, they all
went to work with a will and did just the same to other blades
of grass.

The big Sun looked down and smiled on them when he saw
how hard they worked. " 1 will help them," he said ; and
smiling more brightly than ever he baked their pillars hard
and dry.

When the pillars were done the ants built arches across
them, back and front, right and left, over and over, until a
roof was stretched across. The good-natured 8un smiled down
once more and then the roof also became hard and dry and
strong.

Day after day the busy ants worked. 'J'hey made more pillars
above the first ones, and threw more andies over them until they
had built a house big enough for all to live in. It had long,
winding passages everywhere under the arches, and tiny little
rooms opening into the passages. Over all this they put a cover-



IX THE child's wokld. 3G3



ing of etirth, with oh I so many doors and windows in it; and
then the house was done.

One morning little Mrs. Flyaway went hastily out of one of
the doors. Naughty Mrs. Flyaway ! She was going to run
away. She wanted to see that beautiful green world that lay
all about.

She had not gone very far when three or four other ants went
tumbling out of the doors and windows and ran as fast as they
could after her.

These little ants were not quite as pretty as Mrs. Flyaway;
they had no lovely gauzy wings. They were very patient and
industrious, however, and worked hard all day for the Flyaways
(there were other Flyaways besides the one we know); and work-
ing hard for other people is much better than being only beauti-
ful to look at, is n't it ?

You see three kinds of ants lived in this one house. There
were the Mr. Flyaways, who had four wings and were very grand,
the Mrs. Flyaways who had two wings, and the dear little workers
who had n't any wings at all.

When the worker ants caught up to our Mrs, Flyaway, one of
them said, breathing very hard through the breatliing pores in
his sides, " my dear friend, what a run so early in the morn-
ing! You must come right back home. Why, what would we
poor workers do, if we let the Flyaways leave us?"

*' Yes," said another, "pretty soon you will have some little
baby ants, and we have made room for them in the big, brown
house. If you don't stay there you will have no home for them."
So, coaxing and teazing, they got Mrs. Flyaway back to the house.

But their trouble was not over then, for either this Mrs. Fly-
away or some other was always trying to run away. The work-
ers were more than busy keeping them at home and finding
enough food for them.

One beautiful day, in spite of all their care, Mrs. Flyaway
was lost. They had just given up searching for her, when who
should come running toward home but that dear little lady
herself.

" Come,'' she cried in great excitement. " Gomel See what
I have."



304 IN THE guild's WOlil.l).

They nil ran after her as fast as possible, and what do you
think she showed them, carefully hidden under a leaf? Twenty
little eggs!

" Seel" said Mrs. Flyaway joyously, " My little baby ants will
come out of these eggs."

Mrs, Flyaway might have been called Mrs, Stay-at-home after
this, for, would yon believe it? she never wanted to run away
any morel She just felt like staying at home and watching those
eggs day and night. So she took off her })retty little wings and
laid them aside, knowing that she would n't need them any more,

" Yours will be the first babies this year," said somebody.

" They won't be babies at all if we aren't careful." said one
experienced old ant.

The little mother looked very anxious.

''We must get them in out of the dew;" the same ant added,
"those tender little eggs can not stand the cool, damp night
air." At this the ants went to work, and before the sun went
down the eggs were all in the brown house.

Everybody was up early next morning to take the eggs out
again and spread them in the sunshine. At noontime the eggs
had to be changed again and put under a plantain leaf because
the sun grew too warm. You may imagine that all this kept
them very busy, morning, noon and night.

One morning when Mrs. Flyaway woke up. she felt something
moving. She looked down, expecting to see a little ant. But
what do you think had come out of the eggs instead? Twenty
little grubs — little fat things with no legs and no wings. Mrs.
Flyaway was very much surprised at first and a little disap-
pointed, but she soon grew to think they were the most beauti-
ful babies a mother ever possessed.

Oh! how much they did eat. Why, it took twenty workers
besides their proud little mother to find enough honey-dew for
them to eat, and to protect them from heat and cold.

The grubs were not to be grubs always. Before many days
passed they spun themselves silky cocoons, rolled themselves up
tight and went to sleep, looking like twenty little barleycorns.
They slept so many days that their mother became quite
anxious. " Is n"t it time to wake them?"* she said.



IN THE child's WORLD. 365-



"Just about time," saidalittle worker. "You know we will
have to cut open the cocoons. The babies will not be able to
get out unless we do." Now the ants who attended to this did
not have any scissors or knives, but they had something which
answered just as well. Teeth? No, but mandibles— parts of
their mouths which they use for all such work. With these
mandibles the ants cut a hole in each cocoon.

You would never guess what came out of those cocoons!
(irubs do you think? No, indeed. Twenty little full-fledged
ants — some Flyaways and some workers — came out, rubbing
their eyes and yawning.

" Well," exclaimed their mother in the wildest excitement,
"those babies have caused me continual surprise ever since I
first saw the eggs, but this is the greatest surprise of all.''

Ada Cook.



FLOWERS.



To THE Teacheb: —



Flowers are always welcome and ap-
propriate in kindergarten, and those
children are fortunate whose teacher
brings to them these pretty chronicles of
each season as it passes. It is not neces-
sary to have a great bouquet; even one
flower will give the childi"en pleasure.

For this talk a plant with buds and
blossoms would be best. Pansies, nas-
turtiums and other flowers which show
the "honey streaks" will be necessary.
Let the children taste the nectar at the
bottom of the flowers— lilac, clover, etc.

If flowers are easily available, ask the children to bring some to talk

about during the week.




THE TALK.



(Recalling tlie interesting little workers talked of last week,
the children's thoughts can he naturally directed to flowers.
Let the children name all the kinds of flowers familiar to them,
and tell of what colors and of what shapes they are and which
of them are fragrant.)

What kind of flowers did you see in the winter? Where did
they grow? In doors. AVhy? What kinds did you see in the
early spring? What kinds have we in kindergarten to-day?
Where did they grow? What helped them to grow? (Sunshine
and rain and the earth in which they Avere planted.) Would
this flower grow (holding up a cut flower) if I should plant it?
Why not? What do the roots do for the plant ? Is it pure water
which they drink? Xo, it has soaked through the ground and
taken Avhat the plants need from the soil.

When this juice soaks up from the roots it goes into another
part of the plant. What part is that? The stem. And from the



IN THE CHILD S WORLD.



367



stem where does it go? Into the little stems, into the leaves and
into the flowers. Do you remember what we call this juice of
the plant ? It is called sap. We spoke of it when we were talking
about trees; and we had maple sugar in kindergarten because
maple sugar is made of sap. When we have cut flowers and put
them in water, the water takes the place of sap for a little while.
Let us look at one of the kindergarten plants and tell all its
parts. The roots under the ground, then the stems, then the
leaves and flowers. Little plants have all these parts, just as








^ud') and j^lovyer'^. \*V^



big trees have. Is n't it wondei'fnl tliut all this couki come from
one tinv seed? (The children will be ready to tell of the kin-
dergarten seed i)lanting and its results.)

Do you remember what we found on the trees early in spring,
before we could see any leaves? Leaf- buds. And what do we
find on the plant before we can have any flowers? Flower-buds,
of course. (Show bud.)

At first the bud is very small indeed, having within it only the
beginning of a flower; but it grows and grows, and by and by the
bud opens and the flower unfolds itself. Just before the bud
opened, the pretty flower was packed and folded in the bud
about as closely as the butterfly Avith his big wings was packed
in the chrysalis. Flowers are so beautiful and so sweet that every-
body loves them, Fven if they were good for nothing but to be
beautiful and sweet we should l)e glad to have flowers grow; but
they are useful besides.

Certain little creatures with baskets on their It'S^s and a bacr



368 IN' THE child's would.



inside the body would not know where to go to market if it were
not for the flowers. What do bees get from flowers to put into
their baskets? Pollen for bee-bread. What do they carry home
in their bags? Can you think of any other insect which sips
honey from flowers? How do the bee and the butterfly get the
honey from the deep flower-cups? Many other insects like
honey, too.

(Show some flowers having streaks or veins on tlie ])etals, and
call attention to these lines.)

Who would think these lines were of any use? It seems as if
they were only to make the flower prettier; but they really are of
use to the bees. When a bee lights on a flower, it sees these
streaks and knows that they point to the place where the flower
keeps its honey. Isn't that interesting? It is a sign which says
to the bee : ' ' This way for honey ! "

But the most wonderful use of the flower is still to be told.
What do we plant in order to have flowers? Seeds. But where
do seeds come from? (Some of the children may remember that
certain fruits contain seeds; if so, trace back to the blossom.)

Ah I it is the flowers which do the great work of seed making.
The flowers which are not plucked but which remain on the
plants seem to fade away; but it is not the whole flower, it is only
the pretty petals which fade and drop off. The other parts (point
out the pistil and stamens to the children,) stay on the plant and
finally make the seeds. What kind of seeds would this flower
have made if it had stayed on the plant? And if we planted
those seeds Avhat would grow? Each flower makes its own kind
of seeds; and no other kind of seed can grow into Just that par-
ticular kind of flower. Now would you like to know what the
flowers say? A lady (Susan Coolidge) tells us in some pretty



verses :-



The red rose says: " Be sweet,'"

And the lily bids: " Be pure."
Tlie hardy, brave chrysanthemum,

" Be patient and endure."
The violet whispers: " Give,

Nor grudge nor count the cost."
The woodbine, '' Keep on blossomin;;

In spite of chill and frost."'




.,^>r,|s'



Which do You Likk Bkst?



iitV)



370 IN THE child's wokld.



TEACHER'S READING.

Botany, . . . . Gray, Hooker, Newell, Youmans

How to Know the Wild Flowers, - - - - Mrs. W. S. Dana

Flowers and their Pedigree, - - - . . Allen

Flower Object Lessons, - - - - - - Le Maout

Life of a Primrose (" Fairy Land of Science," ) - - Arabella Buckley

Wild Flowers and Where they Grow, - - Amanda B. Harris

Song of Life, . . . . _ Margaret Morley

The Sensitive Plant, . . . . _ Shelley

Little Flower People, - - . . . Hale

Hymn to the Flowers, - - - Horace Smith

Flowers, - - - - Hood

The Question, - ...- Shelley

To the Rhodora, -.-... Emerson

Chorus of Flowers, - - - Leigh Hunt

Nature and the Poets, - - - Keats

To a Mountain Daisy, . - . - . Burns

Flower in the Crannied Wall, - - - - Tennyson

A Lay of the Early Rose, ) n* n •

The Deserted Garden, S - - - - Mrs. Browning

FOR THE CHILDREN.

St. Elizabetli and the Roses ) (" Kindergarten Stories and „ „ m-//aa
BabyCalla S Morning Talks"), !i. J^. wiuse



IN THE CHILD S WORLD.



371



STORIES.



WHAT THEY DID.




•*' mammal" cried Carrie Edwards as she
entered the dining room, where a basket of
clioiee tiowers stood upon the center table,
'• where did they come from?" " They are
yours, my dear," her mother answered.
"Your father called at Mr. Brown's green-
house this morning, and he sent them to you.
He said that last winter, when his little boy was hurt at school,
you cared for him till help came from home. It seems he never
forgot the act; and so he has sent you this bouquet, with his
kindest regards."

Carrie's face flushed with pleasure.

''I had almost forgotten about it," she said. " Little Willie
Brown fell from his sled while coasting, and his arm was broken.
I only picked him up and held him till others came. But these
flowers are such beauties I It seems a pity that all their sweet-
ness'should be wasted on me. There, mamma, I have it I I met
the minister on the street a moment ago, and he looked so sad.
Frank is still very sick, they say, and takes scarcely any notice
of what is going on about him. He is so fond of flowers, you
remember, mamma. Last summer, when he called with his
father, my pink rosebush was in full bloom, and I gave him
one. He was delighted with it; and I saw him, when he thought
no one was looking, caress it lovingly. May I share my flowers
with him?"

" Y^'es, dear, if you like. They are yours to dispose of as you
please."

A little later the minister's wife said, coming into her boy's
room, " Frankie, darling, see what Carrie Edwards has sent you."
The lad opened his eyes, and a smile of joy lighted his face.
"For me?" he whispered.

" Yes, dear,'' Mrs. A'oorhees answered; " the man who brought
them said Miss Carrie sent them."



372 IN THE child's world.



The boy held them to his lips, and inhaled their sweetness witb

a pleasure his mother rejoiced to see.

" Don't take them away," he whispered.

" You shall have them right here, dear."

Then he closed his eyes, and, with his face buried in the
flowers, lay for a long time so quietly that his mother thought
he had fallen asleep.

''Mammal" he suddenly whispered.

"Yes, Frank."

" I have been thinking of Tommy Brown around the corner.
You know he has to sit all day long in that little smoky room
while his mother washes ; for he cannot walk a step. May I share
my flowers with him?"

" If you wish."

Tommy Brown sat by the window, in his mother's bare little
room, gazing at the noisy scene across the street. His mother
had been busy washing all day, and was tired and cross. Tommy
could scarcely see through the window panes, so thickly were they
covered with smoke and dust. The scene outside could not be
called an interesting one, but there was so little to divert
Tommy's mind that he strove his best to keep watch of what
went on in the street. But it was hard work to peer through the
steamy, grimy window. He sighed, then took his little hand
and tried to clean the dirt from the pane. What he saw made
him forget the smoke and the boys across the street; for he
got a glimpse of a man bearing in his hand a bouquet of flowers.

"Oh!" he gasped, "how glad I am I saw them. I wonder
how they happened to come down this street?"

A knock sounded at the door.

"For Tommy, from Master Frank," said a voice.

"Not the minister's boy?" cried Mrs. Brown.

" The same, ma'am. He had a gift to-day, and he was always
one to share a blessing with others."

" mother !" was all Tommy said. Then he sat very quietly
for an hour or more, very carefully fingering each tiny blossom,
with his eyes full of untold happiness. After all, it was such a
good world to live in, when he was remembered by a sick boy,
and such a boy as Frank Voorhees.



IX THE CHILD S WOULD.



A moment later he cried: "'AVhat was that? €%! yes, I
know; it is little Bessie, upstairs. She has been alone all day
while her mother is out working, and she is growing tired, I
reckon. Why conld n't I spare her half of my flowers? I ought,
if Frank Voorhees could spare them for me. Mother/' Tommy
said, "would you mind going upstairs to little Bessie's room
with part of these flowers?"

Tommy's mother would usually have minded such a trip as
this very much, but the gift of flowers had softened her heart.
A few moments later Mrs. Brown stood by little Bessie's cot,
where the child was wasting her strength in tears.

" Here's some flowers Tommy sent to you, and the minister's
sick boy. Master Frank, sent them to him."

The child gave a cry of Joy and gathered the flowers to her
bosom. '"' I never saw such beautiful flowers before," she said.



Online LibraryEmilie PoulssonIn the child's world; morning talks and stories for kindergartens, primary schools and homes → online text (page 24 of 29)