MARCH

THE MORNING-GLORY TWINES TO THE RIGHTTHE MORNING-GLORY TWINES TO THE RIGHT

THE MORNING-GLORY TWINES TO THE RIGHT

"Now, one day in early spring, the sun, who makes the plants grow and gives the colors to the flowers, heard the honeysuckle, which was putting out green leaves on its strong vines, laughing at the bean and morning-glory, that were just peeping from the earth.

"And the sun said, 'This is too bad. It is not fair for one who has so much to make fun of those who have so little. I must give them more.'

"So, lo and behold, when the morning-glory vine began to bloom, instead of having pale little flowers, they were a beautiful white and blue and purple and rose color, and when the bean blossomed, it had a fine scarlet flower, and both were more beautiful than the honeysuckle, though the honeysuckle still had its sweet perfume, and its honey for the humming-birds."

"But what about the twining?" asked Davy. "That is what you started to tell."

"Why, yes, of course. I forgot that. Well, when the sun came to look at them he said, first to the honeysuckle, 'Because you have been so proud, you must follow me,' and to the bean and morning-glory, 'Because you have been meek, you shall turn always to meet me,' and since that day, the honeysuckle has turned always to the left, following the sun, while the bean and the morning-glory have twined always to the right, to meet it on every turn."

The Chief Gardener paused, seeing that Davy was making circles in the air with his finger—first circles to the right, then more circles to the left. Then the circles got slower and slower, showing that he was thinking very hard.

"That's right," he said at last. "If they turned to the right, they would meet the sun every time around, and if they turned to the left they would be following it."

The Chief Gardener was glad he had told his story right.

"And then, by and by," he said, "I supposepeople must have given them their names—the honeysuckle's because of the humming-birds that came to suckle the flowers, and the morning-glory's because it made each morning bright with its beautiful flowers, while the bean they called the scarlet runner, and when they found that its pods held good food, they planted it both for its flowers and its usefulness, and valued it very highly, indeed. Just where all this happened I do not know. The honeysuckle and morning-glory now grow wild, both in Europe and the United States, and the scarlet runner is said to have been found wild in these countries, too, though I have never seen it except in gardens."

"Papa," asked little Prue, "haven't my morning-glories any useful relations, like my sweet-pease?"

"Why, yes, of course, let me see. The sweet potato belongs to that family. It is really about a first cousin, and useful drugs are made from the juice and root of a wild morning-glory.There are hardly any families that do not have both useful and ornamental members, and most of them, I am sorry to say, have troublesome ones, too, which we call weeds. But I must run away now, and all that will have to wait until another time."

MARCH

AND so the month of February passed. Once the vines had started up the strings, they seemed to grow faster—almost as if they were running races, while the pease reached out and clung to the little twigs, and stood up straight and trim, like soldiers. The pansies and nasturtiums, too, and the lettuce and radishes all sent out more and more leaves, and began to hide the little pods. Davy was wild to pull up just one radish to see if it wasn't big enough to eat, but on the first day of March, when the Chief Gardener told him that he might do so, he was grieved to find only a pale little root, just a bit larger and a trifle pinker at thetop, instead of the fat, round vegetable he had expected.

Still, it was really a radish, Davy said, and he cut the thickest part in two and gave half to little Prue, who brought out her little dishes and set her table that Santa Claus left under the Christmas Tree. Then she put her piece on one little plate, and Davy's piece on another, and picked one tiny pansy leaf and one from the nasturtiums to make bouquets. And Davy picked a lettuce leaf—a very small lettuce leaf—for a salad, so that when their little table was all spread and ready, with some very small slices of bread, and some cookies—some quite large cookies—and some animal crackers, with milk for tea, it really looked quite fresh and pretty and made you hungry just to look at it.

THE NASTURTIUMS BEGAN TO HIDE THE LITTLE POTTHE NASTURTIUMS BEGAN TO HIDE THE LITTLE POT

THE NASTURTIUMS BEGAN TO HIDE THE LITTLE POT

And, oh, yes, I forgot to say that there was some salt, the least little bit, in two of the tiniest salt dishes, and when they sat down at last to the very first meal out of their garden, all on the first day of March, when no other gardensaround about had been planted yet, they dipped the tiny bits of radish into the tiny salt dishes, and nibbled it, just a wee bit at a time to make it last, and last, ever so long. And they said it tasted real radishy, and that the lettuce leaf, with one drop of vinegar and aspeck of salt, was just fine. And little Prue held her doll and made her taste, too, and then the Chief Gardener and grown-up Prue must each have a tiny, tiny bite.

And so, of course, Davy got to be really quite proud of his first radish, and said that after all it wasn't so bad for the first one, and that it was almost as big as a slate-pencil, in the thickest part. Pretty soon they might have a radish that would be big enough for each one to have quite a piece, and they would serve it on a whole leaf of salad. He felt sure that on his birthday, which would be on the tenth, they might really have something very nice.

Then Prue was very quiet for a minute, thinking. By and by she asked:

"And do you think I will have flowers for Davy's birthday? Davy can just pick his lettuce and radishes any time. My 'sturtiums and pansies are as big as his things, but I have to wait for them to bloom."

"Why, that's so, Prue." The Chief Gardenerwent over to her pansies and looked at them very closely, but if he saw anything he did not speak of it. "Oh, well," he said, "if you don't have flowers for Davy's birthday, maybe you will for mine. It comes in March, too, you know. And then it's ten days yet till Davy's, and you never can tell what will happen in ten days."

Alas, this was too true. It got quite warm during the second week of March, and the fire in the furnace was allowed to get low. Then one night it suddenly turned cold—as cold as January.

"Oh, what makes some of my pea leaves look so dark?" asked Davy, as they stopped in the icy sitting-room for a moment, before hurrying through to the warm dining-room, where a big open fire was blazing.

The Chief Gardener shook his head, rather solemnly.

"I'm afraid they are bitten a little by Jack Frost," he said.

"Oh, mine are all dark, too," whispered Prue, sorrowfully. "I am going to take them right out to the dining-room fire, and warm them."

"And that would be the very worst thing you could do," said the Chief Gardener. "Let them stay right where they are, and we will heat the room slowly by opening the register just the least bit at a time, and draw the shades to keep out the sun. Perhaps if we do that the frost will come out so gently that the plants will not be killed. If you should warm them quickly they would be very apt to die, or at least to be badly injured."

So they did as the Chief Gardener said, and kept the sitting-room quite cool all day. Then by another day the pease and all the others looked about as well as ever, only a few of the tenderest leaves withered up and dropped off because Jack Frost had breathed harder on these than on the others. As for the radishes and lettuce and pansies, they hadn't minded itthe least bit, for they can stand a good deal of cold, and the corn and sunflower and nasturtiums didn't lose any leaves, so, perhaps, they didn't care for a touch of frost either.

Andnow with each day there was brighter sunshine that came earlier and stayed longer. From a high east window they saw the sun rise each morning, when it was bright weather, and when they happened to be awake in time, and they saw how the big red ball crept farther and farther to the north, along the far fringe of trees, beyond all the houses which they could see.

"It rose away down beyond that little white house on Christmas morning," said Davy, who was always up early. "I remember very well. Now it's got past the tall pine by the red barn. How much farther will it go?"

The Chief Gardener pointed to a dim pencil-mark on the window-sill.

"That was the angle of the shadow," he said, "on the twenty-first of June, and points to just where the sun will rise on the longest day of the year. You will have to be up very early to see it on that day." He pointed to another faint line. "That," he said, "was the angle on the twenty-first of December, the shortest day. The sun swings like a great pendulum from one point to the other and gives us winter and summer, and all the seasons between. Half-way between these marks is due east, and there the sun will rise on the twenty-first of March, which is the first day of spring."

"Do you think our garden things are looking at it, and wishing it would hurry and get farther toward the June mark," said little Prue.

"I think they are," the Chief Gardener answered. "They don't have eyes, as we have, but they have a way of seeing the sun, and of knowing just where it is, for most of them turntoward it as they grow, and some of them follow it all the way across the sky, from morning until night, and then turn back and wait for it to rise again. Your sunflower would do that, Prue, if it were out under the open sky."

THE VERY SMALL LETTUCE LEAVESTHE VERY SMALL LETTUCE LEAVES

THE VERY SMALL LETTUCE LEAVES

"Oh, it does now. I mean it looks toward the sun in the morning, with its top leaves, and keeps them turned toward it as far as it can."

"So you have noticed that, have you? Well, I'm glad, for I have read in books—books written by very wise men—that the sunflower did not really do this, but that it was justan old fable. I think those wise men, perhaps, never saw the wild western sunflowers, but only the big tame ones that have heavy, coarse stems and are so big and clumsy and fat that they couldn't well turn, even if they wanted to. I have seen whole fields of wild sunflowers—little ones like yours, and long before they were in bloom—with every stem bent toward the sunrise, when there was not a breath of wind blowing; and I have seen the same flowers straighten their little stems as the sun rose higher, and then bend them again to the west in the evening; and the little bend would be so tight and firm that you could hardly straighten the stalk without breaking it. Very wise men make mistakes sometimes, mistakes that even a little girl would not make, just because they have not happened to see something which a little girl with sharp eyes has seen and thought about. It is a wonderful and beautiful sight on the prairies of the West to see miles of wild sunflowers in full bloom. They are like a great sea of gold, and inthe early morning, when the air is still, every bloom is faced toward the sunrise, as bright and fresh and faithful as the sun itself."

"I should think there would be a story about the sunflower," said Davy, half speaking to himself.

"Oh, there have been many stories about it, Davy. After breakfast I will try and remember the one I like best."

So then they hurried down to the dining-room, pausing just long enough to see that the garden was all safe, and to notice that the upper leaves of Prue's sunflower were really faced so far to the sun that there was a sharp little crook in the stem, then out to the big dining-room fire, for the fragrant breakfast that was waiting, and back to the library fire for the story that was to be told.

III

"Onceupon a time—"

"Oh," said Prue, "once upon a time—I just love 'once upon a time.'"

"Yes," nodded Davy, solemnly, "and once upon a time there was a little girl who couldn't keep still so that her Papa could tell a story."

Prue snuggled down, and the Chief Gardener began all over.

"Once upon a time, long before there were any railroads, and cities such as ours, long before Columbus ever sailed over the ocean to a new world—when all this great wide country, as you know, was held by Indians, who hunted and fished, and made war sometimes, when they had disputes—there lived away in the far West two very friendly tribes. Their lands joined and they hunted together, and when one tribewas at war the other joined in and helped to fight the enemy. So they became almost as one tribe and their children grew up together.

"Now, in one tribe there was a little Indian boy, a chief's son, who was very fond of a little Indian girl of the other tribe. Their mothers had always been great friends, and often for a whole day at a time the little Indian boy and girl played together, and as they grew up they cared for each other more and more, and the Indian boy, Ahlogah, said that when he was older and a chief he would make the little Indian girl, Laida, his wife.

"But it happened that in Laida's tribe there was also a chief's son, a jealous-hearted and cruel boy that Laida did not like. But this boy cared for Laida, and like Ahlogah made up his mind that some day she should be his wife.

"So they all grew up, and Ahlogah and Laida loved each other more dearly every day, and Kapoka, the other youth, grew more jealous and more cruel-hearted. And when one day hisfather died, and he became chief of his tribe, he said that if she did not give up Ahlogah, he would make war on Ahlogah's tribe.

"So then Ahlogah and Laida met one evening just before sunset to say good-by for the last time. Their tribes had never been at war, and they were willing to part forever to keep Kapoka from making a war now. Laida had not promised to marry Kapoka, she had only promised not to see Ahlogah again. And now they parted, just as the sun was going down, and they both turned to see it for the last time side by side. And then Ahlogah said:

"'To-morrow just at sunrise go to the high rocks above the river and look to the east. And where the river passes through our lands, I will go also to see some high rocks, and I will look to the east, too, when the sun rises, and I will know that though we are apart, we are watching the sun rise together, and it will be always our message of love to each other as it travels across the sky.'

"So Laida went back to her tribe and Ahlogah to his, and every morning they watched from their high rocks above the river, and held out their arms to the rising sun, as a message it should bear between them.

"And Kapoka found out that Laida went every morning to the high rocks, and held out her arms to the sun. And he found that Ahlogah also went every morning to the high rocks farther up the river. Then Kapoka knew that Laida would never be his wife as long as Ahlogah was alive. And one morning very early Kapoka left his wigwam and crept across to the lands of the other tribes, and to the high rocks where Ahlogah stood waiting for the sunrise. And just as the sun rose, and Kapoka knew that Ahlogah would not hear him, he slipped up behind Ahlogah, and gave him a great push that sent him over into the swift river, hundreds of feet below.

"And the swift river caught him and tossed him and whirled him about, and finally carriedhim down past the high rocks where Laida was sending her message to the sun. And Laida looked down and saw him coming. She saw his chieftain's dress and plumes tossed and whirled by the water. She knew it was Ahlogah, and she waited for him. Then, when he just was below the high rocks where she stood, she gave a great cry, 'Ahlogah!' and she was in the whirling, tossing water beside him.

"Then the tribes searched together, and they found Ahlogah and Laida far below, cast up on a place of white pebbles, side by side. And they buried them, side by side, and both the tribes mourned. But when the spring came there grew upon their graves two strange flowers with bright, beautiful faces that turned each morning to the sunrise. And these they named Ahlogah and Laida, but in another year there were more of them, so they called them sunflowers, and after that the land in September, the month when they had died, was like gold with the beautiful flowers of the sun."

"But what became of the wicked Kapoka? What did they do with him?" asked Prue, anxiously.

"They never saw him again. I suppose he was ashamed to come back, and by and by his brother, who was good and noble, ruled the tribe, and they dwelt in peace for many generations."

"Do sunflowers belong to a family now?" asked Davy.

"Oh, yes, to the very largest of all families—a family that spreads all over the world, and the sunflower has been found to be so perfect in form that the family is sometimes called the Sunflower Family. Its true name is the Composite Family, which means flowers with thick, bunchy centers, formed of a lot of very tiny little flowers, with a rim of petals around the whole—rays they are called—making it into one big flower."

"The black-eyed Susans must belong to that family, too," said Davy.

"They do, and the daisy, and the marigold, and the zinnia, and the aster, and your lettuce, too, Davy, and many, many more. Whenever you see a flower with a round bunchy center and a rim of petals, like a sunflower—no matter what color or how small it is—you will know it belongs to the Composite Family. I suppose there are more of this family in America than in any other country, but the sunflower is the finest of them all, and the most generally useful. Its seeds are full of fine oil, and are excellent food for cattle and poultry. The Indians sometimes use them for bread. The flowers themselves are full of honey, the leaves, too, are good for cattle, and the stalks make fine fuel. In many places and many countries the sunflowers are cultivated and valued highly. Of course, there are other useful members, and your lettuce is one of the finest salads in the world."

Marchwas really an exciting month in the little window gardens. With longer and brighter suns, everything grew faster, until the windows began to look full and green, and the children often went outside to look in, and were very proud, indeed, of the pretty show of vines and leaves beyond the glass.

The race of vines became very close. Davy had one bean and Prue one morning-glory which kept ahead of the others, and grew about the same each day. They grew so fast that Davy thought if he would only watch very closely he would be able to see them grow a little, but watch as he would, he never could catch the little vine turning or sending out a new leaf. It was like the short hand of the clock. It went twice around each day, but nobody could see it move.

The corn and the sunflower were having a race, too, and the sunflower was a little ahead, though Davy's corn was a good deal taller when he lifted the points of the leaves.

"I don't think that is fair," said Prue, and the Chief Gardener was called to decide.

"No," he said, "the corn must be measured from where the leaves turn over, until it sends up its tassel, or bloom. Then it may be measured to the top of that. And that may be sooner than you think, too," he added, as he looked down into the healthy-looking green stalk that was fully two feet high. "And just see those vines; why they are more than half-way up the casings already!"

It was the day before Davy's birthday, and Prue was looking anxiously at her pansies. All at once she gave a joyous cry.

"Oh, Papa, a bud! Oh, it truly is, a real sure enough bud!"

The Chief Gardener looked with care.

"Yes," he said, "it is really a bud, and quitea large one, too. It begins to show the color. It's going to be a purple one, I believe."

Prue was fairly wild with excitement.

pot of radishesDAVY'S POT OF RADISHES

pot of radishes

DAVY'S POT OF RADISHES

"Oh, may I pick it to-morrow for Davy's birthday?" she asked.

"I don't believe I would, Prue. It won't be open for a week or more, perhaps. I would wait until it opens."

So Davy's birthday came and passed without flowers from their garden, but they did have radishes, two of them, and these were cut in two and divided around so that each had quite a nice taste, and a leaf of salad, too. The radishes were nearly as big as marbles, little marbles, of course, and very red and beautiful, and Prue put her pansy-pot on the table, and showed the bud, with its purple tip, every time Davy made any mention of his radishes or his lettuce, and with a big cake and other good things they had a very happy time indeed.

But now things began to happen in real earnest. The pansy bloomed—a big velvety, purple bloom, and then there was a yellow bud and a yellow bloom with a purple spot in the center. Little Prue was simply too happy to keep still, and danced in front of her garden almost from morning until night.

Then suddenly they found a bud on the bean vines, and then on the morning-glories, and then there were blooms—pink and purpleblooms on the morning-glories, and scarlet and white ones on the beans. Then Davy's corn sent out a plume at the top, a wonderful tassel, and when Davy measured to the top of it he found that it was over three feet high.

"My birthday will be a regular feast of flowers," said the Chief Gardener, and really there was good reason for saying so, for the window casings were white, scarlet, pink, and purple, and the tasseling corn and the broad green leaves of the sunflower were fair and lovely. And Prue's pansy-pot was again on the table, and when the dinner was over, the Chief Gardener drew it toward him, and picking one of the purple blooms that was nearly ready to fall, said:

"Did you ever see the little man in the pansy?"

"No, oh, no," said Prue and Davy together. "Show him to us, Papa."

So then the Chief Gardener pulled off carefully all the petals of the flower, and there, sureenough, sat a little round-bodied man, in a wonderful green chair, made of the outer part, or calyx, of the flower. His head was light green, his coat pale yellow, and he wore a rich, brown collar. Just below him was a round green sack or tube, filled with water, and when the Chief Gardener slitted it down, why there, truly, were two little legs and feet that had been in the little vessel. The children were delighted.

"Oh, tell us about him!" they said. "Who is he?"

"He was a king," said the Chief Gardener, "a poor, feeble king, who always sat on a green throne, with his feet in a tub of water. And his wife and daughters, all very splendidly dressed, used to perch themselves around him on the throne and ask for more money to spend on their fine clothes, and they were often cruel to him because he wouldn't give it to them, crowding him and almost smothering him with their velvet dresses.

young corn plant"DAVY'S CORN SENT OUT A PLUME AT THE TOP"

young corn plant

"DAVY'S CORN SENT OUT A PLUME AT THE TOP"

"So one day the fairies heard of it, and cameto see. And they took pity on the poor king, and the next time the wife and daughters were crowding him on his throne they changed theking and his throne and all the others, with their fine dresses, into a flower. And the flower was the pansy. The velvet petals are the wife and daughters. The calyx is the green throne, and this little man is the poor, sick king with his feet and legs still in the little tub of water, though he can never be worried and scolded again."

"I know that story is true," said little Prue, "for there is the very little man, himself, and oh, see, you can take his coat off, and there is a little green body inside."

Sure enough, it was as Prue had said, and the Chief Gardener explained. "That little body becomes a pod to hold the seeds by and by. The little coat helps to make the seed, too. I won't tell you all the names of these things now, for you could not remember so much. Only try to remember that the green throne is called the calyx, and each little piece of it is a sepal, while the beautiful wife and daughters are called petals, and when taken together are called acorolla, and that this is true of every complete flower."

And so March, too, slipped away. And on one day near the very end of the month, when it had been warm and bright for nearly a week, the Chief Gardener went out into his garden and turned over some of the earth which was getting dry. Davy said that it smelled all new and springy, and reminded him of kite-time. And then the Chief Gardener made two little beds of his own, and in one he sowed some lettuce, and in the other some radish seed, because these were the things most likely to grow from an early planting. Davy and Prue watched and helped, and were very anxious to have little beds of their own, but the Chief Gardener told them that they would better wait at least another month before they did any outside gardening. Their window gardens were just coming to their best time, he said, and planting outside so early was always risky.

And that night when the wind went to thenortheast, and a cold rain set in, that turned to snow before morning, and made the ground all white and glassy like December, they were very glad they had not made any beds, and were sorry for the Chief Gardener's little beds of vegetables, outside beneath the cold, cold snow.

APRIL

APRIL showers began early. The sun shone out brightly on the morning of the first day, but by breakfast time the rain was pattering down, and all the rest of the day there were showers, one after another, that streamed down the garden windows and made a little river of the path outside. Davy said he had never seen it rain so much in one day, and Prue said it was too bad. The Chief Gardener said it was an April fool.

But there was reason to be happy, after all. Whether it was the shower outside; or the sun that was trying to shine; or just because it wasApril, Prue and Davy did not know, but Prue all at once found a bud on her sunflowers and Davy about the same time discovered a tiny brown silky bunch on his corn, the beginning of the ear.

Then they forgot all about the rain, or at least they did not care so much, and got their books and their little table and sat down by their garden, which was now a real garden, of real flowers and vegetables, and read some stories about other little people, and looked at the pictures and talked about what they would do when warm weather came and they had a still bigger garden outside.

And that night, when the Chief Gardener came home, he had to look at the corn and the sunflower the first thing, and say, "Well, well," every time Prue told him how she had first seen the bud, which was a good many times, and he had to explain to Davy all about the corn silk, and the little ear that was still behind the rough green leaf, and how the dust, or pollen, droppingdown from the tassel above helped to make the corn swell and grow on the ear.

"It is so in every flower, the yellow dust is a food for the seed. In most plants the seed-pod and the food-dust or pollen are all in one flower, but with the corn they are separate, as you see. Did you ever notice, Davy, how much a cornstalk looks like an Indian, with plumes, and its ear, like a quiver for holding arrows?"

"Oh, is that why people sometimes call it Indian corn?" asked Davy.

"No, that is not the reason. At least, there is a better one which I will tell you when we have had our dinner."

So by and by, when dinner was over, and Prue had two servings of pudding because she didn't care for chocolate cake—one very little serving, of course, the Chief Gardener and Davy, and big Prue and little Prue all went into the library, and the Chief Gardener told the story of

"Youremember," said the Chief Gardener, "how I told you about the first sunflowers—"

"Yes," put in Prue, "about that wicked Kapoka, who pushed poor Ahlogah from the high rocks. Oh, I hope he is not in the corn story, too."

"No, he isn't in the corn story, but it was, perhaps, about that time that the corn came to the American Indian tribes, for the corn was first found in America, and it is a true Indian plant like the sunflower. Like the sunflower, too, it came once upon a time.

"Well, then, once upon a time, there was a year of famine. The winter had been very cold, and almost all the wild game, upon which the Indians then lived, had either died or gone out of the country. The fish, too, seemed scarce and hard to catch, and the wild fruit had been winter-killed. There was little to eat during thewinter, and even when spring came it was not much better, though by and by some of the game came back and there were more fish in the streams.

"Still it was very hard to get enough food, and every bird and animal was killed wherever found, and brought to the camps to be eaten.

"But one day there flew down very close to one of the very large camps a big bird, such as no one of the tribe had ever seen before. It was not a hawk, nor an eagle, for it was a golden yellow, and it seemed to have come a very long way. It sat quite still, and its wings drooped, and it did not seem frightened when the wondering and hungry Indians came nearer to look at it.

"Then one or two Indians began stringing their bows to shoot the great bird for food. But others said, 'No, let us not harm the stranger. He has come from a far country. And see, the color is golden, like the sun. Perhaps, the sun has sent a messenger, as a good omen.'

"So they did not kill the bird, but even brought it food, little as they had, and the bird ate and rested through the day. Then just at evening he lifted his great wings and flew away into the sunset, and was seen no more.

"But when a week had gone by, there came up where the bird had rested a strange new plant which grew very fast in the warm sun and shower and sent out long graceful leaves, and at last a plume at the top like that of an Indian chief, and from behind the graceful drooping leaves, tufts of silk that became ears, and were like Indian quivers. And when the summer was past, the tribe gathered these ears, and pulled away the husk, and lo, there were the rows of ripened corn, golden like the great bird.

"Then the tribes from far and near were called together, and there was great rejoicing and thanks for this new gift, brought to them by the wonderful bird of the sun. And to each chief was given a few of the grains for planting,so that the next year all the tribes around about were watching and tending the tall green stalks that were to give them abundance of seed against another famine.

"And that is the legend of the corn. After the third year there was seed for all, and corn became the best and surest food for all the Indian tribes. When the white men came, they ate it, too, and by cultivation made new kinds and colors. Now we have the sweet or sugar corn, the Davy's, and we have popcorn, too, which is only a dwarf corn with a hard, flinty shell which pops open with heat."

"Do they raise corn in any other country except America?" asked Davy.

"Oh, yes, there is a great deal raised in other countries now, and I believe they claim to have found some grains of it in a very old tomb in Greece, and a picture of it in a very old book in China, so, perhaps, it was from some place in the far East that the great bird of the Indians came with the seed."

"And does it belong to a family, too?" asked little Prue.

"It is claimed by the grass family, and, of course, it is something like big grass. Wheat and oats and, indeed, all the grains, belong to that wonderful family, too. Then there is broom-corn, useful for making brooms, while sugar-cane, which is also a grass, gives us our best sugar and molasses, but corn not only gives us the ears for food, but the leaves are used for cattle, and the husks for making cushions and mattresses, and for packing fruits. Syrup also is made from the young stalks, and the dry stalks are used for thatching, stable-bedding and fuel. In fact, every part of the corn is valuable, and I think we might call it the king, or, perhaps, being an Indian, the chief of the tribe of Grasses."

"I know the best of all the things that comes from it," said little Prue.

"What?" asked Davy.

"Pop-corn balls," said Prue.

III

Whatwonderful things happened to the little window-garden in April! The nasturtium bloomed early in the month—first a red one then a yellow one, then a lot of red and yellow ones. They were so beautiful that almost every meal the little pot stood on the table, and sometimes the pansy-pot, too.

And then the sweet-pease bloomed, beautiful pink and white and purple blooms that were so sweet you could smell them as soon as you came into the room. Davy's garden-pease had bloomed even sooner, and had little pods on them by April. Before many days the tiny pease inside began to swell, and you could see every one quite plainly when you turned the pod flat side to the light. As for the beans and morning-glories, they had bloomed and bloomed, and already had seed-pods hanging all the wayup the vines that now reached to the top of the casings and looped down and joined in a long festoon which hung between.

And how proud the children were of their two beautiful windows. And how happy they were when passers-by stopped to look in, and perhaps wondered about the gardens, and maybe thought that the rosy-cheeked boy and girl looking out between the blossoms and leaves and vines were the brightest and best flowers that bloomed there.

And Davy's corn sent out another ear, a little one, and both ears grew and the pollen from above sifted down, and Davy knew that inside the green husks the sweet kernels were forming.

"When can we eat it?" he asked almost every day. "Don't you think it's about big enough now?"

"When the silk turns brown," said the Chief Gardener. "That is about the best rule. I think you'll have pease and beans, too, pretty soon, so you can have quite a feast."

morning-glories"THE MORNING-GLORIES HAD BLOOMED AND ALREADY HAD SEED-PODS"

morning-glories

"THE MORNING-GLORIES HAD BLOOMED AND ALREADY HAD SEED-PODS"

"Just in time for my birthday," said big Prue, who had been an April baby a long time ago.

"It's ever so long till my birthday," said little Prue, rather sadly. "I don't think we'll have anything left by August."

"Oh, but I'll have a fine garden outside by then," said the Chief Gardener, "and you will, too. I'll have radishes and lettuce now before you know it;" for in spite of the cold snow and freeze, the Chief Gardener's first planting had sprouted fairly well, and was rapidly filling his first two little beds.

"Papa, you haven't told us a word about my nasturtiums yet, and they're so lovely. Not a single story or anything, nor about their family relations, or where they came from—not a thing."

"Well, that's so," said the Chief Gardener, "perhaps because I wanted to make a family affair of it. You see, Davy's radish is a sort of a name-cousin of your nasturtium, and I've been thinking that when I told about one I'd tell of the other, too, and that I'd call the story

"Nobodyseems to know just where the Cross family came from. You can find them in every part of the world now, some of them growing as weeds, some as flowers, and some as very fine vegetables. But wherever they came from, in the beginning, they were certainly of very sharp,biting natures, and never could agree. Why, they were so cross that even their flowers were shaped like little crosses, and people called them cruciferous, which means cross-shaped, and used to say of them,

"'Cross by name and cross by nature,Cross of fibre, face, and feature,'

"'Cross by name and cross by nature,

Cross of fibre, face, and feature,'

and did not want them in their gardens, because they disturbed the other vegetables and flowers, and might make them cross, too.

cabbage"CABBAGE" WAS THE FAT FELLOW'S NAME

cabbage

"CABBAGE" WAS THE FAT FELLOW'S NAME

"Well, the Cross family became tired of this, at last, and made up their minds to be either useful or ornamental: at least, most of them did. So they got together, and after a great deal of quarrelling among themselves to begin with, for, of course, they couldn't help that when they had been unpleasant so long, they at last began to work together and decide what each wanted to be, and how it could be brought about.

"'I think,' said a fat one who was always better-natured than any of the others, 'I should like to be a nice sweet vegetable that peoplewere very fond of and gave a good place to, in their gardens, where I should be well taken care of.'

"So the Clerk of Plants, who was alive then, like the Weather Clerk, you know, put down 'Cabbage,' which was the fat fellow's name, and wrote after it, 'Sweet vegetable—needs care.'

"'I,' said another, 'would like to be a sweet vegetable, too, but I want to grow mostly under the ground, so that I will need less care to keep off insects and worms.'

"So then the Clerk of Plants wrote 'Turnip,' and put after it, 'Vegetable with sweet, wholesome root; needs little care.'

"So they went on with those who wanted to be vegetables. But most of the others did not want to be quite so sweet in their nature as the turnip and the cabbage. They said they liked people with a little temper of their own, so the radish, who was a fat, red little chap, was put down as a vegetable rather sweet, but with sharp flavor, and 'Horseradish' was put down, 'Verysharp and biting, to be used only for seasoning.' The Clerk was about to turn to those who wanted to be flowers, when a little green plant, who had been named 'Nose Torment,' because he made people's noses itch and burn, spoke up and said, 'I should like to be beautiful and useful, too—a pretty green dressing that people like, and I will grow in the water, which may wash away some of my ill manners.'

"So then the Clerk of Plants dropped the name of 'Nose Torment' and wrote down, 'Water Cross, a fine table-salad—grows in clear streams.'

"'But I don't like the name "Cross,"' said the little plant.

"'Oh, well,' said the clerk, 'spell it with an "e" then—make it Cress.' So Water-cress it became, and all the others spelled their family name with an 'e,' too, and became the Cress family instead of the Cross family, just as people often change the spelling of their names to-day.

"But the Clerk of Plants wasn't through, for there were a good many who wanted to be flowers. Some of them wanted to be very sweet flowers, and some, like mustard, wanted to be flowers and useful, too. So the Clerk wrote down 'Wallflower,' and 'Stock' and Candy tuft,' and a good many others, but there was one gentle little blossom which said, 'Oh, I want to be white and pure, and have a sweet and delicate perfume that all people will love.' And this was 'Alyssum,' and when the Clerk wrote it down, he wrote it 'Sweet Alyssum,' and so it has been called ever since.

"And then, when the Clerk was all through, he said, 'There are some who have not come to the meeting. Where is your brother, Mustard? And yours, Alyssum, the one we call Pepper-grass, because he is so fiery?'

"Mustard and Alyssum shook their heads sadly.

"'Well,' said the Clerk, 'they have had their chance. They are wild and will always be,' sohe wrote down. 'Wild Mustard' and Pepper-grass,' and after these names he put the word 'Weeds.'"

"But my nasturtium, Papa, what about that?"

"Why, that's so, I forgot all about your nasturtium. Well, you see, it doesn't really belong to the Cress family, but is only a name-relative. The word nasturtium comes from two Latin words,nasi tormentum, which means Nose Torment, and it was Nasturtium that little Water-cress had sometimes been called."

"But," said Prue, "my nasturtium isn't water-cress."

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