MARCH

"Tora does not care for the Feast of Dolls, because that is a girls' festival. The Feast of Flags is the boys' day.""Oh, yes," Tora says, "I think the Flag Festival is the very best day of the whole year. Then everybody flies kites and the boys have their feast."What fun it is to see the huge paper fishes flying over all the houses and gardens! Some of the fishes are as large as a man. They open their mouths and swim about in the air as if they were in the water. All day long they flap their fins and tails and rustle in the wind.""But why are so many of your kites made like fishes?" we ask."Because there is one kind of fish in our country so strong and brave that he swims up stream and leaps the waterfalls," Tora answered. "So Japanese parents fly kites made like fishes to help their sons remember that they must struggle bravely to win success."There are many kinds of fish, my father says, that can float down the stream with the current; but there is only one fish that can swim up the stream and leap over a waterfall."We have many other kites too. Some of them are shaped like butterflies. Some are shaped like birds and they make a singing noise when the wind blows through them.

"Tora does not care for the Feast of Dolls, because that is a girls' festival. The Feast of Flags is the boys' day."

"Oh, yes," Tora says, "I think the Flag Festival is the very best day of the whole year. Then everybody flies kites and the boys have their feast.

"What fun it is to see the huge paper fishes flying over all the houses and gardens! Some of the fishes are as large as a man. They open their mouths and swim about in the air as if they were in the water. All day long they flap their fins and tails and rustle in the wind."

"But why are so many of your kites made like fishes?" we ask.

"Because there is one kind of fish in our country so strong and brave that he swims up stream and leaps the waterfalls," Tora answered. "So Japanese parents fly kites made like fishes to help their sons remember that they must struggle bravely to win success.

"There are many kinds of fish, my father says, that can float down the stream with the current; but there is only one fish that can swim up the stream and leap over a waterfall.

"We have many other kites too. Some of them are shaped like butterflies. Some are shaped like birds and they make a singing noise when the wind blows through them.

"On the morning of the Flag Festival I find all my toys in the guest room where Hana finds her dolls.

"Among my toys are wooden soldiers older than Hana's oldest dolls. My grandfather's grandfather used to play with them when he was a little boy.

"And there are banners and swords, and images of the famous generals of Japan dressed in splendid armor. My father alwaysplays with me on the day of the Flag Festival, and he tells me about the brave soldiers of our country.

"In the evening the people light their prettiest paper lanterns, and hang them in the gardens and before every house and store.

"Sometimes my father takes me boat-riding, and the most beautiful sight of all is the river with the many colored lights twinkling from the boats."

Hana and Tora tell us about other great festivals of their country, and they invite us to visit them again at the time of the Feast of Cherry Blossoms.

A dip of the nose,A turn of the toes,A spread of the hand,A bend of the knees—It takes all theseTo say "Good day"In chrysanthemum landSo far away.

In March come the March winds;They blow and they blow,They sweep up the brown leaves,That green ones may grow.—Selected.

April, April, are you here?Oh! how fresh the wind is blowing!See! The sky is bright and clear;Oh! how green the grass is growing!—Dora Reed Goodale.

Robins in the tree top;Blossoms in the grass;Green things a-growing,Everywhere you pass;Sudden little breezes;Showers of silver dew;Black bough and bent twigBudding out anew.—T. B. Aldrich.

Lillies

Snowdrops! lift your timid heads,All the earth is waking;Field and forest, brown and dead,Into life are waking.

Lilies! lilies! Easter calls!Rise to meet the dawningOf the blessed light that fallsThrough the Easter morning.Waken, sleeping butterflies,Burst your narrow prison!Spread your golden wings and rise,For the Lord is risen.—Mary A. Lathbury.

Lilies! lilies! Easter calls!Rise to meet the dawningOf the blessed light that fallsThrough the Easter morning.

Waken, sleeping butterflies,Burst your narrow prison!Spread your golden wings and rise,For the Lord is risen.—Mary A. Lathbury.

From "Little Pilgrim Songs."Used by permission of the Biglow & Main Co.

Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother,Are you awake in the dark?Here we lie cosily, close to each other;Hark to the song of the lark—"Waken!" the lark says, "waken and dress you,Put on your green coats and gay,Blue sky will shine on you, sunshine caress you,Waken! 'tis morning—'tis May!"Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother,What kind of flower will you be?I'll be a poppy—all white, like my mother,Do be a poppy like me.What! you're a sunflower? How I shall miss you,When you're grown golden and high!But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you,Little brown brother, good-by!—E. Nesbit.

Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother,What kind of flower will you be?I'll be a poppy—all white, like my mother,Do be a poppy like me.What! you're a sunflower? How I shall miss you,When you're grown golden and high!But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you,Little brown brother, good-by!—E. Nesbit.

Clovers

The clovers have no time to play:They feed the cows and make the hay,And trim the lawns and help the bees,Until the sun sinks through the trees.And then they lay aside their cares,And fold their hands to say their prayers,And drop their tired little heads,And go to sleep in clover beds.Then when the day dawns clear and blueThey wake and wash their hands in dew;And as the sun climbs up the skyThey hold them up and let them dry;And then to work the whole long day:For clovers have no time to play.—Helena Leeming Jelliffe.Copyright, 1902, The Outlook Company.

The clovers have no time to play:They feed the cows and make the hay,

And trim the lawns and help the bees,Until the sun sinks through the trees.

And then they lay aside their cares,And fold their hands to say their prayers,

And drop their tired little heads,And go to sleep in clover beds.

Then when the day dawns clear and blueThey wake and wash their hands in dew;

And as the sun climbs up the skyThey hold them up and let them dry;

And then to work the whole long day:For clovers have no time to play.—Helena Leeming Jelliffe.

Oh, the sunshine told the bluebird,And the bluebird told the brook,That the dandelions were peepingFrom the woodland's sheltered nook;So the brook was blithe and happy,And it babbled all the way,As it ran to tell the riverOf the coming of the May.Then the river told the meadow,And the meadow told the bee,That the tender buds were swellingOn the old horse-chestnut tree;And the bee shook off its torpor,And it spread each gauzy wing,As it flew to tell the flowersOf the coming of the spring.

Then the river told the meadow,And the meadow told the bee,That the tender buds were swellingOn the old horse-chestnut tree;And the bee shook off its torpor,And it spread each gauzy wing,As it flew to tell the flowersOf the coming of the spring.

A field

We say that a room with no furniture in it is empty. But this is not exactly true. There is one thing that the room is full of to its very top. It is something that you can not see. But it is as real a thing as the furniture. This thing is air.

If you take all of your books out of the box in which you keep them, you say there is nothing left in it. But the box is full of air. When you shut it up and put it away, you put away a box full of air. When the books were in it, it was full of books and air together. Now it is full of air alone.

The air is everywhere. It is always ready to go where there is a place for it. Every crack and crevice is filled with it.

You see a little boy playing with a ball. What is it that he is throwing against the wall? It is a rubber ball, you say. But isthis all? Is there not something else besides the rubber?

Suppose that you prick a hole in the ball and squeeze it. It is now good for nothing. But the rubber is all there. Why is the ball good for nothing?

It is because the air which filled the ball and made it round has escaped. The ball is of no use unless you can keep it full of air.

Perhaps you think that air does not weigh anything. But it does weigh something, though very little, and its weight is well known.

You can not see air, but you can sometimes feel it. You can not feel it while it is still if you are still at the same time. You can feel it only when it is in motion. When the wind blows upon you, it is air in motion that you feel.

When you fan yourself, the air strikes upon your face, and you feel it. When there is a gust of wind, the air comes against you just as a wave of water does.

Sometimes we say the wind blows veryhard or very strong. This is when the air moves very fast. When there is only a gentle breeze, the air is moving very slowly.

When the air moves very fast, it sometimes does a great deal of harm. It roots up trees and blows down houses.

The air is clear, like glass. That is, it lets you see through it. But when you look up through the air, you see that it is of a blue color. You call the blue air the sky. The sky is the blue air that surrounds the earth.

—Worthington Hooker.

There is a mighty giant in the world, who is as old as the earth itself. You have often heard his voice and felt his touch, but you have never seen his face.

When he is angry, all men fear, and all the beasts of the field seek their hiding places.

As he rages and whirls along his way, he tosses houses into the air as easily as a boy tosses a ball. He throws down great trees or pulls them up by the roots as he crashes through the forest.

A ship on the ocean

Sometimes he flies out over the sea and chases the ships. He rolls great waves over their decks and drives the ships against the rocks to perish.

But he plays many a queer prank even inthe midst of his anger. One day he lifted a schoolhouse, turned it around in the air, and set it down with the back of the house just where the front had been.

Once when he was tumbling down houses with a great racket, he found a baby in a cradle. Catching it up, he was off like a flash.

Where had he taken the baby? Would it ever be found alive? "Never," the people said. But just then a cry was heard, and there was the little child safe in the branches of a tree!

This giant meddles with everything within his reach. He knocks the apples off the trees before they are ripe. He tears the vines from the house, and picks the flowers from their stalks.

He is not always honest, for on washing days he often tries to steal the clothes from the line. He takes things which boys and girls leave in the yard, or on the doorstep.

Then the old giant goes whistling on his way to hide his stolen goods. Sometimes he throws them under the bushes, and sometimes he tosses them into the water.

The unseen giant is often kind and gentle. In the long, hot summer time he softly fans sick children, and helps them to become strong and well again.

Children flying a kite

When he wishes, he can be one of the greatest workers in the world. Sometimeshe flies from town to town sweeping the streets. He draws water for thirsty cattle, and he grinds wheat and corn for any miller that asks his help.

Up and down the rivers, and over the sea, he works by day and by night, carrying people where they wish to go. Had it not been for him, neither Columbus nor the Pilgrims could have reached the shores of America.

He likes to play with boys and girls. Sometimes he is a little rough. But when there are kites to fly or boats to sail, he is the best playfellow that can be found.

The strong old giant is very fond of music, too. He loves to play on the horn, the bugle, and the flute. Sometimes you hear him whistling in the keyhole and singing in the chimney. Often he flies to the pine forests, where he makes the sweetest, saddest music you have ever heard.

Everything you have heard about this wonderful giant is true. And when you think of his name, you will remember many other things that he can do.

How do the robins build their nest?Robin Redbreast told me.First a wisp of amber hayIn a pretty round they lay;Then some shreds of downy floss,Feathers too, and bits of moss,Woven with a sweet, sweet song,This way, that way, and across:That's what Robin told me.Where do the robins hide their nest?Robin Redbreast told me.Up among the leaves so deep,Where the sunbeams rarely creep.Long before the winds are cold,Long before the leaves are gold,Bright-eyed stars will peep and seeBaby robins one, two, three:That's what Robin told me.—George Cooper.

Where do the robins hide their nest?Robin Redbreast told me.Up among the leaves so deep,Where the sunbeams rarely creep.Long before the winds are cold,Long before the leaves are gold,Bright-eyed stars will peep and seeBaby robins one, two, three:That's what Robin told me.—George Cooper.

Baby birds on a limbCopyright, 1900, by A. R. Dugmore.

The young bird needs to be educated just as a child needs to be, though not exactly in the same way.

After the young bird can fly, he needs to be taught to find his own food, and also where to sleep.

He needs to know the different calls and cries of his family, and what they all mean. He has to learn to fly, and he must learn tosing. Then he must learn what to be afraid of, and how to protect himself from his enemies. No doubt there are many lessons for him to learn that we do not know about.

If you watch little birds just out of the nest, you may see them being taught how to find their food.

The robin mother takes her little one to the ground and shows him where the worms live, and how to get them. The owl mother finds a mouse creeping about in the grass. She teaches the owlets how to pounce upon it by doing it herself before them.

The old swallow takes her young ones into the air and shows them how to catch little flies on the wing.

If you watch long enough, you may see the old bird, who is training a young one, fly away. She may leave the young one alone on a tree or on the ground and be gone a long time.

Before many minutes the little one will begin to call for food. But by and by, if nobody comes to feed him, he will look aroundfor something to eat. Thus he will get his first lesson in finding food for himself.

Once I saw a woodpecker bring his little one to a fence close by some raspberry bushes. He fed the young bird two or three raspberries, and then quietly slipped away.

When the young bird began to feel hungry, he cried out; but nobody came. Then he looked over at the raspberries and tried to reach one. After trying three or four times he got one. Then how proud he was!

The father stayed away an hour or more. Before he came back that young woodpecker had learned to help himself very well. But the minute his father came, he began to flutter his wings and beg to be fed.

It is very easy to see the birds teaching their little ones to fly. You will find theyoung birds sitting quietly on fences or trees. All at once the parents begin to fly around, with strange, loud calls. In a minute the little birds will fly out and join them.

Baby bird at nest

Around and around they all go till their little wings are tired, and then they come down and alight again.

Once I saw a young crow who did not fly when his parents called. All the others flew around many times.

The mother's sharp eyes saw her naughty son. She flew right at him, and knocked him off his perch. The next time she called, he flew with the rest.

An old robin wanted to teach her young one to bathe. She brought him to a dish of water kept for their use by some people who were fond of birds.

The little one stood on the edge and watched his mother go in and splash and scatter the water. He fluttered his wings and was eager to try it for himself, but seemed afraid to plunge in.

At last the mother flew away and left him standing there. In a moment she came back with a worm in her mouth. The young robin was hungry, as young birds always are. When he saw the worm, he began to flutter his wings and cry for it.

But the mother jumped into the middle of the water dish and stood there, holding the worm in his sight. The little bird wanted the worm so much that he seemed to forget his fear and hopped in beside his mother.

She fed him, and then began to splash about. The little fellow stayed in the water and took a good bath.

A careful watcher can see the birds teach many interesting things to their young ones. But one must be quiet and patient, and not frighten the birds.

—Olive Thorne Miller.

Birds in a branch

How do birds first learn to sing?From the whistling wind so fleet,From the waving of the wheat,From the rustling of the leaves,From the raindrop on the eaves,From the children's laughter sweet,From the plash when brooklets meet.Little birds begin their trillAs they gayly float at willIn the gladness of the sky,When the clouds are white and high;In the beauty of the daySpeeding on their sunny way,Light of heart and fleet of wing—That's how birds first learn to sing.—Mary Mapes Dodge.

Little birds begin their trillAs they gayly float at willIn the gladness of the sky,When the clouds are white and high;In the beauty of the daySpeeding on their sunny way,Light of heart and fleet of wing—That's how birds first learn to sing.—Mary Mapes Dodge.

Nandi, the Great One, was the baby's nurse. He was one of the strongest nurses that ever took care of a baby anywhere on this round earth.

In the first place Nandi was large, as you have already guessed. He was twice as high as the baby's father, and he was almost as tall as the roof of the tiny hut where the baby lived.

Nandi had a long nose. It was a very long nose indeed. Perhaps you will not believe it, but his nose was as long as you are tall, my little reader.

And it was a wonderful nose. It was always moving, always feeling, always smelling. With his nose Nandi could rock the cradle, and brush away the flies that buzzed about the baby's face. With it he could pickup the smallest toys from the ground, or open the door of the hut.

But you, my little readers, have another name for this wonderful, long nose. You call it a trunk.

Nandi had two long, sharp teeth. They were longer than a man's arm, and they were very strong. With them he could lift heavy logs and move great stones.

But you have another name for these long, strong teeth. You call them tusks. And you have already guessed that the baby's nurse was an elephant.

The baby was a little Hindu boy, and he lived on the other side of the world. He had a brown skin, black eyes, and black hair.

The Hindu baby had played with great Nandi's trunk ever since he could grasp anything with his tiny hands. He had crawled around the elephant's feet and slept on the ground in the shadow of the great beast. For, in the warm country of India, where the baby lived, it is always summer.

One morning, the baby's father perchedhimself upon the elephant's head and rode away from his home. The child screamed with grief for his companion.

"Be still, love of my life," said the mother. "Thy father has need of Nandi. He can no longer be idle. There is harder work for him to do than to care for thee, O small one."

Elephant lifting lumber

The elephant's work was to pile heavy timbers in the lumber yard, and to help unload the ships. Often he worked alone, for he needed no driver to urge him to histask. His piles of wood were always straight, and his work always well done.

Once Nandi belonged to a Hindu prince and walked in long processions through the streets of cities. Then he wore gold rings in his ears and silver rings around his tusks. Red cloth, trimmed with gold, covered his great sides and hung almost to his feet. And he proudly bore upon his back the officers of the prince.

And longer ago than that, when he was young, he had lived in the jungle. Ah! those were happy days! Then, with other elephants, he roamed the forest, ate the tender branches, and swam the rivers.But one day he was driven by the hunters through the forest and across the hills. Suddenly he found himself shut in on every side by a strong, high fence. Then he was caughtand chained to a tame elephant who afterwards taught him how to work.Nandi often took part in great hunts for wild beasts, and he bore the marks of a fierce tiger's claws upon his side. He helped to catch other elephants in the dark forest, and taught great beasts like himself to do many kinds of work.

And longer ago than that, when he was young, he had lived in the jungle. Ah! those were happy days! Then, with other elephants, he roamed the forest, ate the tender branches, and swam the rivers.

But one day he was driven by the hunters through the forest and across the hills. Suddenly he found himself shut in on every side by a strong, high fence. Then he was caughtand chained to a tame elephant who afterwards taught him how to work.

Nandi often took part in great hunts for wild beasts, and he bore the marks of a fierce tiger's claws upon his side. He helped to catch other elephants in the dark forest, and taught great beasts like himself to do many kinds of work.

Nandi did not care to be free. Truly, if he had wished to go back to the jungle what could hinder? For he worked without chain or harness.

He was well cared for. He loved the evening bath in the river and the evening meal of fresh leaves. He loved his master, who was always kind.

But best of all he loved the brown baby who fed him with bananas, and always welcomed his return with childish glee. How old Nandi's bright eyes would sparkle when his little friend came near.

And when the baby could run to meet him, and sit upon his great strong neck, there was no prouder elephant in all the land of India.

"Sister, I wish you would tell me a story about the sun," said Harry. "Where does it go at night, and where does it come from in the morning?"

"We live on a big round globe called the earth," replied his sister, "and we travel around the sun once every year. The sun is like a great lamp in the sky. When we face the lamp, we see the light, and when we turn away from it, we are in darkness.

"As the earth travels around the sun, it whirls like a huge top. When the side of the earth on which we live is turned toward the sun, we have day. But when the earth turns around so that the sun can not shine on us, we have night.

"If the sun stopped shining, there would be no daylight, and soon there would be no heat on the earth.

"The sun is very, very hot. If it should come nearer and nearer to the earth, every plant and animal in the world would die. The rivers and the seas would dry up, and at last the great earth would melt like a ball of wax."

"How far away is the sun?" asked Harry.

"It is so far away that it would take more than a hundred years to travel the distance by the fastest railroad train."

"Is it more than a thousand miles?"

"Yes, it is more than a million miles."

"Suppose there were a road all the way to the sun. How long would it take me to walk there?"

"Let me see," said sister Mary, taking out her notebook. "If you should walk four miles an hour and ten hours a day, you would be more than six thousand years old before you could finish your journey."

"But suppose," asked Harry, his eyes bright with wonder, "some one fired a big cannon at the sun. How long would it take the cannon ball to get there?"

Mary looked in her notebook again. "If a cannon ball could be shot to the sun, it would take nine years to reach it. Now what else do you want to know about the sun, little brother?"

"I should like to know how large it is. Does any one know? Is it as large as the earth?"

"Very much larger," replied Mary. "It is so large that if it were cut up into a million parts, each one of the parts would be larger than the earth.

"If a train should run at the rate of a mile a minute, it would take five years for it to go around the sun. A train going at the same rate could travel the distance around the earth in less than three weeks."

"Then the sun must be very large," said Harry. "It is larger than anything I ever heard about. Let us call it Giant Sun."

"There are stars far away in the sky that are larger than the sun," said his sister. "And there are planets like our earth which are near the sun. But I will tell you aboutthem some other day. Now do not forget what I have told you about Giant Sun."

"Forget! How could I, sister? It is better than any fairy tale I have ever heard. Why, you have told me enough about Giant Sun to keep me thinking all day."

From "Stories of Starland." Copyright, 1898.By permission of the publishers, Silver, Burdett & Co.

Flowers

Great is the sun, and wide he goes,Through empty heavens without repose;And in the blue and glowing daysMore thick than rain he showers his rays.Though closer still the blinds we pullTo keep the shady parlor cool,Yet he will find a chink or twoTo slip his golden fingers through.The dusty attic, spider clad,He through the keyhole maketh glad;And through the broken edge of tilesInto the laddered hayloft smiles.Meantime his golden face aroundHe bares to all the garden ground,And sheds a warm and glittering lookAmong the ivy's inmost nook.Above the hills, along the blue,Round the bright air with footing true,To please the child, to paint the rose,The gardener of the world, he goes.—Robert Louis Stevenson.

Great is the sun, and wide he goes,Through empty heavens without repose;And in the blue and glowing daysMore thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pullTo keep the shady parlor cool,Yet he will find a chink or twoTo slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic, spider clad,He through the keyhole maketh glad;And through the broken edge of tilesInto the laddered hayloft smiles.

Meantime his golden face aroundHe bares to all the garden ground,And sheds a warm and glittering lookAmong the ivy's inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue,Round the bright air with footing true,To please the child, to paint the rose,The gardener of the world, he goes.—Robert Louis Stevenson.

You have read the true story of the great sun. Now you shall hear a strange old tale told of Giant Sun, in the days of long ago.

PHAETHON AND THE SUN CHARIOT.PHAETHON AND THE SUN CHARIOT.

PHAETHON AND THE SUN CHARIOT.

Do you remember the beautiful picture ofAurora, and the story of Apollo, the driver of the sun car? Here is another picture of the sun chariot, in its flight across the heavens.

Once upon a time Phaethon, the son of Apollo, said to his mother, "I go to-day to my father's palace," and he started for the land of the sunrise.

For days and for nights he traveled until he came to a high mountain. On its top was the shining palace of the sun. It had golden columns and silver doors. On its wall were pictures of the wonders of the earth and of the sea.

But Phaethon hurried by these beautiful sights. He entered the great hall and found the Sun god just ready to drive his horses through the clouds of dawn.

"Welcome, welcome, my son!" said Apollo. "I have waited long for thy coming. What is thy wish? Tell me, and thy wish shall be granted thee."

"Oh, my father," said Phaethon, "let me drive the chariot of the sun for one day across the sky."

"No hand but mine can hold these fiery horses," said Apollo. "Change thy wish, foolish boy. You ask for death, not for honor."

"My father never breaks his promise," said Phaethon. "I will not change my wish."

"Then follow my advice," said Apollo. "Hold fast the reins. Use not the whip, and drive neither too high lest the earth freeze, nor too low lest it burn."

Phaethon sprang into the sun car and grasped the lines. The horses darted across the sky. Lower and lower they plunged. The heat of the shining sun car dried the lakes and the rivers, and burned every green thing upon the land.

The people cried for rain, and the great ruler of earth and air heard their cries, and looked down from his dwelling place. He flashed his lightnings at the mad driver, and hurled him from his seat.

Then the great ruler led the horses and the chariot to their old track across the sky. But Phaethon never rose from the cold waters of the river into which he had fallen.

Clytie was a sea maiden, so the old Greek stories tell us. She lived at the bottom of the ocean. The white sea sand was her carpet, a beautiful shell was her bed, and the seaweed was her pillow.

One morning Clytie arose, put on her moss-green dress, and went to ride in her seashell boat. A pair of fishes drew her over the beautiful sea bottom. They swam around rocks with sharp, ragged edges, and they passed through forests of sea weed and coral.

Indeed, so long and pleasant was the ride that Clytie fell asleep, and she did not awaken until a big wave rolled her boat upon the shore of a green island.

Then the little maiden opened her brown eyes very wide, for she had never before seen the land. There was green grass at her feet, and such flowers as never grew in her garden at the bottom of the deep sea.

In the trees were birds whose songs sounded sweeter than the music of the waves that had so often lulled her to sleep.

Across the blue sky rode the Sun king in a chariot which shone like blazing gold.

Clytie saw that all living things looked up and smiled when the golden chariot rolled above the earth.

"Oh, that I were a land child!" she said; "then I too might gaze upon the Sun king the whole day long."

Day after day the sea maiden came to the island. There she stood hour after hour watching the bright Sun king until his golden chariot sank into the western sea.

But one evening Clytie found that she could not move. Behold, she was no longer a maid of the sea. Her dress was but a slender green stalk with dark green leaves.

Her yellow hair had become a circle of golden petals. From their midst looked out the brown eyes of Clytie, no longer a sea maiden, but a beautiful sunflower with its face turned toward the sun.

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