"Everyone to his taste," said the drone. "A short life and a merry one for me."

HONEY

A little golden flower-cup, A little golden bee.

A little store of honey made For Nell, and Jack, and me.

A little crystal honey-jar, A little pantry shelf.

A naughty little Nelly-girl Falls down, and hurts herself.

ON THE HILLSIDE

The sun shone gaily, the skylark sang her morning song, and the crickets chirped their merriest; but the things that usually lived so peacefully on the hillside were quarrelling.

It was the wind who began it. As he lifted the pollen from one patch of gra.s.s-flowers and carried it to the next he cried boastingly: "What a friend I am to you tiny creatures! If it were not for me you could bear no seed. I am indeed useful. I am sure n.o.body does so much good."

"How absurd!" cried the bees. "Anyone would think you did all the work of the world. You certainly carry the gra.s.s pollen, but think of the flowers whose pollen we carry. What would the clover here do without us? And the wild flowers, and the flowers in the gardens and orchards all over the world. We are certainly the most useful."

At this thousands of earth-worms popped their heads above the ground.

"If you are talking about usefulness, don't forget us," they said.

"You see very little of us, for we come out at night when most of you are asleep. But think of all the work we do. We burrow and burrow here in our millions, ploughing the ground day after day till every inch is opened up to let in the sweet air and drain away the water from the surface. How could the flowers and gra.s.ses live if we did not do this? Think how fine we keep the soil, powdering it as we do in our burrowings! And how rich we make it by dragging down decaying leaves into our holes every night. The world would be a sorry place for everything that grows and lives if we did not work so hard. We are surely more useful than anybody."

The gra.s.ses waved their flowered heads. "All that is true enough,"

they said; "but n.o.body can possibly be more useful than we are. Think how we clothe the land and give food to hundreds of animals and shelter to millions of insects."

A little cloud sailed softly down on to the hill-top to listen. "What could any of you do without the clouds?" she asked. "You all depend on our rain for your lives; you must confess you are less useful than we are."

"Ho! ho! ho!" laughed the merry sun. "Fancy quarrelling this fine morning! Now I will tell you, and this will settle it once for all.

You are all useful, and not one of you could be spared, and not one of you could do well without the other. Everything helps everything else.

The worms help the gra.s.s, and the gra.s.s feeds the worms; the bees help the flowers, and the flowers feed the bees; the wind helps the clouds, and the clouds become rain and help the wind in its work. And I am here over you all, and if it were not for me nothing could live, so, after all, I am the most useful. If I did not shine there would be no gra.s.s, no worms, no flowers, no bees, no wind, and no clouds. Now go on with your work."

THE SUN'S NEST

Winnie and I went sailing fast Out to the golden West.

We wished to see the Sun drop down Into his shining nest.

Our ship was soft and pearly white-- A dear little cloud up high.

We sailed along at sunset time, Across the flaming sky.

Winnie stood up and laughed with joy; Her curls blew round her head.

The golden clouds raced past our ship, To see the Sun to bed.

The nest was made of red, red cloud, Hung like a rosy swing: An angel stood on either side-- We heard them softly sing.

The tired Sun came dropping down, And cuddled in his nest.

The angels spread their snow-white wings To guard him through his rest.

The soft wee clouds went home with us, The sky grew grey and blue; The stars peeped out and laughed and winked, And said: "Good-night, you two!"

CRIKITTY-CRIK

Mrs. Cricket flew busily round, looking for a good place for her eggs.

"This will do," she said at last. "Here is plenty of food for them when they hatch." She flew down close to the roots of a soft green plant, pierced a hole in the ground with her piercer, placed the eggs in it with her egg placer, and flew off.

"Just the very dinner I like best," said Mr. Beetle to himself; he ran to the hole, dug out the eggs, and ate them up.

He thought he had them all, so he went away; but there was one left, hidden under a grain of earth. After a while it hatched out into Crikitty-Crik.

Crikitty-Crik could not fly, or sing, or lay eggs, for he was only a tiny cricket-baby. All he could do was eat, but that he did thoroughly. He gobbled up every sc.r.a.p of soft vegetable food he could find in the earth, and as his mother had chosen a good place for him he found plenty and soon grew fat. His front legs were specially made for burrowing, and his jaws were made for nibbling.

One day he stopped eating and said: "I should like to fly." So he let his skin grow hard, and he shut himself up in it, and made his wings.

He altered the shape of his mouth, too. "For I am going to suck leaves when I am a grown-up cricket," he said.

When everything was ready he pushed himself out through the top of his old skin and left it lying on the ground. Then up he flew to suck the juices of the leaves.

Such a handsome fellow he was--all green and gold and fine lace-work.

And he could make music, for under his body he had grown two little flat sounding boards. When he moved his hind-legs quickly over these they made the cricket-song: "Crikitty-Crik! Crikitty-Crik! What a fine world it is!"

THE DISCONTENTED ROOT

The Root was grumbling again, and everybody felt unhappy. "It's not fair," she said. "Why should I have to stay down here in the dark while you can all live in the sunshine? It is work, work, work all day down here, finding water and food for you all; while you do nothing but enjoy yourselves."

"Oh, you must not say that," cried the stems. "We are as busy as you are. Your work would be useless if we did not spend our time carrying water and food from you to the leaves and flowers. And think of the weight we are bearing. You cannot say your work is harder than ours."

"It certainly is not harder than ours," said the leaves. "Think of all that goes on in our workshops. We supply as much food from the air as you from the earth. You must not say we are not busy."

The flowers bent their heads and spoke. "Dear little Root-sister,"

they said, "do not make us unhappy with your discontent. Life is very full of work for all of us. You must give us food or we cannot live, and we flowers must make our seed or the family would die out, so we help each other. Your work lies in the dark earth, certainly, while ours is in the sunshine; but the life up here would not suit you. I am sure you would die if you tried to live above the ground."

But the Root would not understand. "Fine words," she said, "but no comfort to me! Oh! I wish I could go up into the sunshine."

One day she had her wish, for a slip of the gardener's spade turned her above the ground. She was delighted, but the others were in despair.

"Oh, dear, whatever will become of us now?" they cried. "If only the gardener would see you and put you in again!" But the gardener did not notice; it lay there all day.