Jocko was homesick. Jocko was a forest creature. He was born to tread the ground, and climb trees, and eat sweet wild fruits.
Jocko liked to leap from tree to tree, and run about over miles of woodland. Now he found himself in a cage. He called and cried, but none of his little brown playmates answered.
He could see only blue waves, and the ropes and masts and sails of the ship. He was tossed up and down. His cage swung from side to side. The motion made him sick—seasick.
After many days, he saw the land again. But it was not forest land. It was brown land—city land. No moss, no vines, no dewy green grass, no flowers! All stone and brick! His cage was carried into a hotel dining-room where people came and sat down and talked in German, and ate things that Jocko knew were not good to eat—bread and pies and cheese and sauerkraut and meat. Oh, how Jocko wanted a fresh sweet cocoanut!
But by and by Jocko was not so homesick. The cook was kind to him, and gave him sweet bits to eat. The visitors took him up and petted him. The little girl who lived at the hotel made him a nice bed in the little crib she used to sleep in.
So at last Jocko had a good time, and forgot about the woods.
But one day little Gretchen played a trick on him to see what he would do. She knew he was fond of white lump sugar. So she filled a bottle with lumps of sugar. Then she gave it to Jocko.
Jocko was wild with delight when he saw the sugar. He jumped up in a chair and lifted the bottle to his mouth.
But Gretchen had put in a cork. The sugar would not pour out.
It was very funny then to see what trouble Jocko was in. He would tilt the bottle up and try to drink the sugar out of the neck. Then he would try to shake it out at the bottom. Then he would sit still and look at the lumps. Then he would try to bite through the glass. Then he would jump down and run away. Then he would come back and catch the bottle again and roll the lumps about, and chatter and scold as he heard them rattle.
This went on for several days. Everybody came in to see little Gretchen’s monkey and his sugar bottle.
GRETCHEN.
But one day the cook let a jar of olives fall. It broke, and the olives rolled out on the floor. Jocko gave a little scream of joy. Like a flash, up he sprang to a high cupboard with his sugar bottle, and gave it a mighty fling. Down it came—crash!
Out the lumps rolled over the floor. Down sprang Jocko. He shouted with delight. He had a sweet feast.
Oh, how he munched and crunched and chattered! And now, what do you think happened?
He would seize every bottle and can and pitcher that was left within reach. Up he would run to the top of some high cupboard or shelf and dash it to the floor! Such mischief as he made!
Little Gretchen had to give him away at last because he broke everything he could lay his roguish paws upon.
See another picture from this story.
He saw the stormy petrels. They flew about the ship almost every day. They liked to eat the scraps the cook threw overboard.
The petrels are sooty black. Their feet are partly webbed.
They sit and float upon the water. They run about over the water. In stormy weather they fly through the dashing foam.
Bobby’s mamma told him many things about the stormy petrel. She told him how the stormy petrel flies far, far away from land. His home is on the sea. He can fly all day long and not be tired.
The stormy petrel hardly ever goes on land except to lay her eggs. Her nest is in a hole in some high cliff by the sea. She hatches one little bird. It looks like a ball of fluff. The nest smells very oily.
The stormy petrel is very oily, like all sea birds. He is so full of oil that the people of the Faroe Islands sometimes use him for a lamp. They take a dead petrel and run a wick through him. Then they set him on end and light the wick and he gives a very good light indeed!
The sailors call the stormy petrel “Mother Carey’s chickens.”
The name of Bobby’s ship was The Jefferson. Once when the Jefferson was in an English port, Bobby saw something very pretty. It was a bird’s nest. It was built in the rigging of a ship.
This ship had been lying in port a good while. The nest was built in a block where some of the cordage runs. It was built by a pair of chaffinches.
Now the chaffinch is not a sea bird; it is a land bird. It builds its nest in trees and hedges. It builds a cosey little nest out of moss and wool and hair. It is deep and round like a cup.
But this pretty pair of chaffinches found a new place in which to build their nest. It was even more airy than the top of a tree. See it in the picture! Day by day Bobby watched them as they flew busily to and fro. Many other people watched them too.
THE CHAFFINCHES’ NEST.
The chaffinch is a cheerful little bird. In the countries where he lives, he is heard merrily whistling in the spring time. There he sits singing to his mate who is keeping her eggs warm. Happy little fellow!
Little boys and girls believe that all mosquitoes sting and bite.
But they do not. The male mosquito never does. He wears a plume on his head, and does nothing but dance in the sunshine.
It is the female mosquito that sings around our heads at night and keeps us awake. It is she who bites us. Look at her head. This is the way it looks under a microscope. Do you wonder that her bite hurts?
MOSQUITO’S HEAD UNDER A MICROSCOPE.
She lays her eggs in a very queer way. First she finds a puddle or a pool of warmish water. Then she fastens herself to some stick, or sliver, or stem, or floating leaf, by her first two rows of legs. Then she lays about three hundred tiny eggs.
The eggs cling together in the shape of a boat or canoe, and float upon the water. In about three days they hatch. Then the warm water is full of “wigglers.”
By and by these wigglers have wings. The outside skin bursts open. They lift their heads and shoulders out of the water. Then off they fly—a whole swarm of singing, stinging mosquitoes.
We are all glad when the cold weather comes and the mosquito goes.
I suppose you think if you lived in a cold country, you would not be troubled by mosquitoes.
But in Lapland, a very cold country, the mosquitoes come in crowds and clouds. Sometimes they are so thick they hide people in the road like a fog. What do you think of that?
THE LAUGHING GIRL.
“CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK! QUAW-AW-AWK! CR-R-R-R!” SAID THE HEN MOTHER.
There were seven ducklings. The very first thing they did was to go and tumble into a bucket of water.
“Cluck-cluck-cluck! quaw-aw-awk! cr-r-r!” said the hen-mother. She was so frightened she made just such a noise as she does when she sees a hawk.
She thought they would all drown. But they didn’t. They swam and dove and shook the water from their little wings.
One day when they were about a quarter grown, Annie found Fluffy-dumpty lying on the ground; she was quacking faintly. Her leg was broken! Annie ran to papa.
“O papa! mend her leg just as you did my arm!” she said.
Papa is a doctor; and when Annie was a very little girl she broke her arm and papa mended it. So he did up Fluffy-dumpty’s leg with a splinter, and then wound a bandage round it. Annie took care of her. Mary used to help Annie feed her with a spoon.
Fluffy-dumpty got well very fast. But when she was about three quarters grown, she met with another accident. She fell down a steep cellar way.
“Quack-quack! Take me out! Oh, take me out!” cried poor Fluffy-dumpty. The other six ducks crowded around and looked down at her.
“We can’t! we can’t!” they cried. “We haven’t got any hands. Call a boy, do!” So Annie called Sam, who took her out.
How thankful Fluffy-dumpty was! She smoothed down her ruffled feathers and said, “Quack-quack,” softly. The other ducks all talked at once.
“What a narrow ’scape you had, Fluffy-dumpty!” said one duck.
“How did you happen to fall into that horrid place?” asked another.
“What a fine boy Sam is!” said a third duck.
“He’s almost too good for a boy,” said a fourth.
But it all sounded as if they only said “quack-quack!”
Every day of their lives these ducks got into the garden, and ate the lettuce and strawberries and cabbage. So the gardener put a board over the hole under the gate.
“Never mind,” said big Broad-bill, “we know more ways than one.” Then the seven started off in a line, and marched round the garden till they came to another hole, and in they went. The gardener was very angry.
See another picture from this story.
BERTIE had gone off and left Vick. He was so eager to see the soldiers parade that he forgot all about him. This had never happened before.
When Uncle Ned gave Vick to Bertie mamma said: “Now, Bertie, you must take the care of Vick. If a boy has a dog he must learn to care for him. You must see that Vick is fed. You must bathe and comb him every day; and you must give him plenty of exercise.”
But as I said, Bertie had forgotten Vick that day. Vick did not know what to make of it. His heart was almost broken.
“This is too bad!” he howled. “Here am I shut up with two saucepans and a dummy. No water to drink—no bone to gnaw—no little master to play with—wow-ow-ow-ow!”
What a dismal howl it was! Mamma heard him; she was in the kitchen making sponge cake. She could not leave it for a moment. But as soon as it was baked she let Vick out.
There was Bertie just coming round the corner! He looked quite ashamed. Yes, he had thought of Vick at last. He had come home for him.
Did Vick forgive him? Doggies always forgive. They have loving and generous hearts. He scrambled all over Bertie and licked his hands and his face and off they went to see the soldiers—a very happy pair.
Do you think Bertie ever forgot Vick again?
Do you ever forget to care for your pets?
IT WAS FUN TO SEE THEM EAT.
Every summer grandma Cushing has two visitors. Their names are Blanche Cushing and Dorothy Cushing.
Blanche lives in Iowa. She has blue eyes and yellow hair and is seven years old. Dorothy lives in New York City. She has brown eyes and brown hair and is eight years old.
They love dearly to play in grandma’s attic. There are queer old bonnets and gowns and cocked hats hanging on the walls.
There are trunks full of caps and spectacles and old snuffers and no end of queer things.
I cannot begin to tell you everything the cousins play. But there is one thing they like to play ever so much.
PLAYING IN GRANDMA’S ATTIC.
They like to dress up in the queer old clothes and play Cinderella, and Mother Hubbard, and Red Riding Hood.
When Blanche gets on her great-great-grandma Cushing’s cap and spectacles and long mits, she makes a very charming little Mother Hubbard.
A VERY CHARMING MOTHER HUBBARD.
They sit in the big old chairs and tell stories. Dorothy likes to hear about the wolves. There are wolves where Blanche lives.
“Yes, one day when I was a very, very little girl,” said Blanche, “a horrid big wolf came up to the window and looked in. I was sitting in mamma’s lap, and he put his paws on the window and just looked at us horrid!
“And then another time, mamma, you know, was going out to meet papa, and she saw a big wolf on the ground, and she thought it was dead, and she was going right up, and it wasn’t dead a bit. It just got up and runned off to the woods, and mamma was awful scared and runned away too.”
When Blanche tells the wolf stories they play “scared.” It is fun to play “scared.” They shriek and run and hide.
One rainy day they had been playing Mother Hubbard.
“Now,” said Blanche, “I will tell a b-eautiful wolf story. It will make us awful scared. See if it doesn’t!”
So she climbed up into a big chair and began. But right in the middle of the story they heard something go scratch, scratch, very loudly.
“Oh, what is that, Dotty?” whispered Blanche, clutching Dorothy’s arm.
Scratch, scratch, it went again, and then there was a great rattling.
“Oh, it’s a wolf!” cried Dotty; and down the attic stairs they flew pell-mell; through the kitchen chamber and the great unfinished chamber, and down the back stairs; through the kitchen and the dining-room, and burst into grandma’s room all out of breath.
“What is the matter, children?” asked grandma.
“Oh, there’s a wolf in the attic,” they both cried out.
“Nonsense! we don’t have wolves in Massachusetts,” said grandma.
“Well,” said Dorothy, “something scratched dreadfully.”
So grandma went up to the attic to see about it. “Where was the noise?” she asked.
BRIGHT-EYES AT HOME.
They pointed to the dark place behind the big chimneys. Grandma went up and opened a door and out walked—a wolf! no; Towser, the old cat! Blanche and Dorothy sometimes have another visitor in the attic. It is a big rat. He lives in the barn. He has a road underground to the house cellar. Then he comes up to the attic through the wall.
The cousins never know when to expect him. He comes in without knocking. The first thing they know there he is looking at them with bright eyes.
They have named him Bright-eyes. They feed him with cake and cheese. He is very tame. Grandma says she never heard of such a thing as feeding a rat. She says Bright-eyes eats her hens’ eggs. He steals them out of the nests.
The magpie is a very handsome bird. He knows he is handsome, too. He has a fine broad tail. There is a band of purple near the end of each feather, and the end is green and purple.
He walks about with this handsome tail perked in the air. He does not drag it in the dirt, not he!
He is a bright bird, too. He can learn to talk, and he is full of pretty and naughty tricks. He is a—thief! He steals eggs from other birds’ nests. He strikes his bill through the egg and walks off with it. And he does a worse thing than that. He steals the young birds and eats them.
MAGPIE AND NEST.
But the Magpie is very careful to build her nest so nobody shall steal her eggs. In the first place she always builds on a high tree. She chooses a tree that has a long smooth trunk, that the boys cannot climb easily. How do you suppose she knows about mischievous boys? She must make a study of boys.
She builds her nest of dry sticks and mud. She carpets it with wool and fine roots. (Birds can always find plenty of wool sticking on the bushes in sheep pastures. There is vegetable wool too, like the wool on the growing ferns.) Then she makes a roof of sticks; she leaves open a small round door at the side. So you see it is not easy for boys or birds to steal her eggs.
Magpies like bright glittering things like silver spoons and rings. They often steal them and hide them in their nests.
This Magpie is a European bird. There is a beautiful red Magpie that lives in China.
MARY AND ANNIE FEED FLUFFY-DUMPTY.
The Park children went to the beach last summer. It was a small beach; not at all like Nantasket Beach.
There were not many folks there. There was a young woman—a very queer young woman indeed, Sam thought. She used to go out on the beach and sit in a camp chair and read!
“Pshaw! who wants to read with a whole ocean to look at?” said Sam.
THE YOUNG WOMAN.
Such cunning little slippers as she wore! and her ruffles and hat! Oh, my! She used to draw pictures sometimes, but Sam didn’t know that.
“Halloo! there she is again!” shouted Sam one day. She was drawing a picture of them that moment, but they did not know it. They were all sliding down the sand cliff.
They had taken off their shoes and stockings, and were going in bathing.
“Whoo-oop! hurrah! here we come! clear the track!” What a noise they did make, to be sure!
But it did not disturb anybody. Nobody heard it but the young woman and some cows in the pasture near by.
How warm and soft the sand was! It was as good as coasting in winter. It was better!
THE PICTURE THE YOUNG WOMAN DREW.
Down they went into the water like so many ducks. They can all dive and swim almost as well as ducks. Papa and mamma were off shore, taking a sail together. They saw the slide down hill, and the plunge into the water. They saw the brown and yellow heads bobbing about.
“Do look at them!” said mamma. “Perfect little Arabs!”
“Do ’em good,” said papa. “Little Molly never had such rosy cheeks in all her life.”
“But think of their clothes!” said mamma.
Farmer Gray had a load of apples to sell one day. But nobody wanted them. People offered him such a small sum of money for them, he said he would rather give them away.
So he started for home with his load of apples. He drove down Summer street, past the schoolhouse. The boys were having their recess.
Now Farmer Gray loved children. So when he saw these boys he thought, “Here’s just the market for my apples.”
He stopped his horse and called out, “Do any of you boys know what to do with apples?”
Then there was a shout! “O yes, sir, we guess we do!” said all the boys.
“Come on, then!” said Farmer Gray.
HE KNOWS WHAT TO DO WITH FARMER GRAY’S APPLES.
The boys crowded around the wagon, and the farmer tossed the apples to them.
“It is well for you, boys, that I found no market for my apples this morning,” he said.
“That’s so!” said the boys. Then they thanked him heartily.
Charlie Read said, “You are the funniest man I ever saw to stop and give us the apples.”
“You would like to see another just like me to-morrow, wouldn’t you?” said Farmer Gray.
“Yes, I would,” said Charley, “and I should like to live with you too.”
Just then the school bell rang. The boys all shouted, “Good-by! good-by!” as Farmer Gray drove off.
“I’m glad enough I didn’t sell those apples this morning,” thought Farmer Gray.
Ah Kee is the funniest little fellow alive.
He can stand as straight as any boy I ever saw.
But the straighter he stands, the more you laugh.
He thinks he is very tall. He is about three feet tall.
He thinks he is a little gentleman, because he can drink out of a coffee-cup and not spill a drop.
But Ah Kee oftener behaves like a rogue than like a gentleman.
There is always a look of mischief in his bright black eyes.
His mistress never allows him to go into the parlor by himself.
She knows he would sit on the brackets with the little statues.
She knows he would like to swing to and fro on the curtain tassels.
She knows he would like to jerk the bell-pull, and bring Rose up from the kitchen.
She knows he would like to take the Sevres vases and walk up and down the room with them in his arms.
No, Ah Kee, with his roguish tastes, is not to be trusted in the parlor by himself.
But he sometimes comes in when she is there. Sometimes when she is reading she hears a soft sound like this, “lsp-s-s-s!”
She jumps up, looks all around. Under the table, or in a corner she sees a soft, round, feathery ball of fur—and one little paw raised, all claws and motion.
AH KEE’S GREAT ACCOMPLISHMENT.
Ah, that is Ah Kee, and Ah Kee means mischief. Perhaps he will spring into his mistress’ lap. Perhaps he will leap up on the piano. You cannot be sure what he will decide to do.
Yes, Ah Kee is a monkey, a gay little spider monkey, with a long tail that he likes to carry over his head in the shape of the letter S.
Ah Kee’s mistress has made up her mind to do one thing. She will buy Ah Kee a silver collar with a ring. She will buy Ah Kee a broad blue ribbon.
Then, when she wants a quiet hour, she will slip the blue ribbon through the collar ring, and tie Ah Kee to the door knob.
DOWN in the South Land, one morning in March, there was a great stir among the birds. “Spring has come in the far North,” they said. “Jack Frost is going, the ice is melting, and now we’ll go home-home!”
Bluebirds, and robins, and bobolinks, how glad they were! They got up very early that morning, even for birds. They bathed in a tiny pond, and preened their feathers. They ate their breakfast and then they started, straight through the air, for the North.
Do you wonder how they knew the way? How does a bird know which way is north and which way is south? There is a “Careful Gardener” who tells the flowers when to bloom, and he tells the birds which way to fly.
They flew that day on and on; over the green fields bright with flowers; over the trees covered with green leaves. By and by, they came where the grass was not yet green; where there was snow in the hollows; where there was ice in the brooks. But they didn’t mind the cold, for they wore their very thickest feather coats.
That night they nestled down together, and slept in a big pine-tree. They found some dried berries on the bushes, for breakfast and supper. It was very dark in the morning; it rained. But they did not mind that; they liked it. They knew the rain would melt the snow, and make the grass and flowers grow.
“But we must put on our waterproofs,” they said.
Do birds wear waterproofs? Oh, yes! But they do not carry them in trunks. When a bird wants to take a journey, he just flies off. He does not have to pack a trunk. He has a tiny bag of oil under the tip of his wings. This is his waterproof.
With his bill he takes out the oil and spreads it over his feathers.
The raindrops cannot go through this oil waterproof, but they roll quickly off to the ground. After they had all put on their waterproofs, they flew on and on again, through the rain.
THE LITTLE COUNTRY CHILDREN.
They did not stay together that day. Part of them flew to the northeast. By and by these came in sight of a big gilded dome.
“I know where we are,” said one old robin. “That is Boston State House, and right down there is our old nest!” and down they flew into the Public Gardens. The Boston little men and women can see them there any day, busy about their nests, and merry as birds can be.
Part of the birds flew to the northwest, to the hills and woods and fields. They built their nests in the trees and on the ground. They built them in barns and in chimneys. They hid them in the grass and in the reeds by the brooks; and the little country children know where to find them.
A NEST.
EDITH AT HOME.
SUCH MISCHIEF AS HE MADE.
“Bow-wow-wow!” was the first thing Winny heard that morning. She opened her eyes and there stood Finnette. Aunt Bertha had brought her as a birthday gift for Winny from Paris.
Finnette was full of pretty tricks. She could stand on her hind legs and dance. She could sing.
“Now, Finnette,” Winny’s mamma would say, “I will play and you shall sing.”
So Finnette would stand on her hind legs and sing such a droll little tune. It sounded like “I love—I love—I love—do you?” Finnette always helped Winny to put her dolls to bed. It was wonderful to see her.
“Bring me Grandma Snowhair’s cap, Finnette,” Winny would say. And Finnette would trot off and fetch it. She knew the doll’s clothes just as well as Winny did.
“Now, Finnette, I will have Glorianna’s nightgown,” said Winny again, and Finnette would bring it.
When Winny got her dolls in bed, she always sang them to sleep, and then Finnette would sing too. “I love—I love—I love—do you?”
Mamma used to like to peep in and see them. Winny always put her dolls to bed at five o’clock. Finnette always knew when the clock struck five, and off she would run to find Winny.
But one day she couldn’t find her. She searched through the house and garden, but Winny was not to be found. So Finnette lay down in the library, and waited. Once she got up and trotted in and looked at the dolls. She barked softly, as though she would say, “Be patient; your mamma will be here soon.”
But the little mamma did not come; so Finnette concluded to put the dolls to bed herself. She laid Grandma Snowhair on the floor and then with her teeth and paws she gently drew off her cap and gray silk dress. She put on her nightgown, but she could not button it.
She undressed Glorianna, but she got her nightgown on upside down. She put her legs into the sleeves. She did not try to put on aunt Sukey’s nightgown. She just wrapped her up in a blanket.
She tumbled the four small dolls into their beds anyhow. How surprised and pleased and amused Winny was when she came home! There were the dolls fast asleep, and their clothes all piled on a chair; and there sat Finnette watching them. She gave the happiest little “bow-wow,” when she saw Winny. She had not been able to eat or to sleep with the care of all those dolls on her mind. Winny hugged and kissed her.
THERE STOOD—FINNETTE!
“You dear old darling Finnette,” she said. “How sweet you have been to my children. You shall have a silver collar, for you are my best friend.” Then Bridget brought Finnette her supper of bread and milk.
LOOK! look!” said Ernest, “see the deer! It has got out of the deer park. I did not know deer could run like that!”
The frightened creature was running down Washington street. He darted in and out among the horses and carriages, and people. He leaped over the heads of the children.
Ernest and his mother stopped to look; everybody stopped to look. On and on he ran till he came to the river, then he leaped into the deep water and was drowned. Was it not a pity? The pretty deer that Ernest had fed so often on Boston Common! He almost cried when he thought of it.
How many of you have ever seen deer? In many of the United States they are still found in the woods. They are kept in almost all public parks.
Deer are gentle creatures, and are easily tamed. But I think they are happiest when they are free to roam the woods where they like.
They eat the tender grass in the spring, and sometimes, if they live near farms, they break into the corn and wheat fields.
In the winter they eat the seed vessels of the wild rose, the hawthorn buds, the brambles and leaves. They like acorns, and, in the South, they eat the persimmons. The persimmon is a yellow plum. They feed in the night.
In hot summer days they like to wade into the ponds and rivers, and stand under water, all but their noses.
The young deer are called fawns; they are pretty spotted creatures. The mother keeps them in a quiet place where she thinks the hunters and dogs cannot get them; for men often hunt the wild deer. It is a great pity to kill them for sport, is it not?
HOW FLEET HE IS!
The deer hears quickly, and his scent is very keen too. When the hunters are after him, how fleet he is! Sometimes he leaps into the water and swims. Then the dogs lose the scent and cannot follow him. The male deer sheds his horns every year.
When the horns are growing they look as if they were covered with velvet.
HAVE THEY NO LANGUAGE?
What a wonderful thing a bird’s nest is! Even the simplest nests are very wonderful. Some boys and girls collect birds’ nests, and that is very well, if you wait till the eggs are hatched, and the birds have flown.
The ground sparrow builds a lovely little nest; and what a curious nest is that of the barn swallow.