SALLY SNAIL'S WANDERINGS
"I smell strawberries," said Sally Snail. "They are somewhere across the road. I shall go and find them."
"Nonsense!" said the others. "It is too dangerous a journey. There are always boys and carts and birds, and all sorts of monsters on the road. You will never reach the other side alive."
"I am going," said Sally. She started off on her strong, creeping foot, leaving a shining wet trail behind her.
Her curly shell covered her back, but her head was thrust well out, so that the eyes on her two long horns could see the roadway and give warning if danger were near. With her shorter horns she followed the scent of the strawberries.
Half-way across the road a starling saw her. He flew down at once, thinking he had found an easy tea. But Sally Snail was too quick for him. In an instant she drew her head and foot into her shell, and sat down so firmly on the ground that the starling could not move her. He pulled at the shell, but he could not pull it off the ground. He pecked at it, but he could not pierce it with his beak.
"I will wait till you come out," he cried. "You can't stay here always!" But a boy came running down the road, and threw a stone at the starling. The frightened bird flew off, and Sally Snail continued her journey. The boy did not notice her, so she reached the hedge in safety, crawled through, and found the strawberries.
What a feast she had! She cut pieces out of the sweet fruit with the files in her mouth, sucked them in, and swallowed them. "If the others knew how good these are, I am sure they would all come too," she thought.
She stayed there till all the strawberries were gone; then she had to go back to eating leaves again.
"There is a cabbage garden through that next fence, I am sure," she said one day. "I shall go and see." So she travelled next into the cabbage garden. Here she found her cousins, the Slug family.
"Dear me, how strange you all look!" she said. "Why don't you grow shells on your backs?"
"Don't give yourself airs. We have as blue blood as you," said the Slugs. They were touchy about their soft backs.
"How cross you are! I shall go and visit my cousins in the pond," said Sally.
However, the cabbages were very good, so she stayed till they were all cut and taken away. Then she crossed the garden, slipped through the fence, and came to the pond. Here her cousins, the Water Snails, were gliding across the top of the water, shell downwards, like a boat, and foot up like a sail.
"Oh! how lovely to be able to do that!" said Sally as she watched them.
"I have found you again!" said the Starling coming down with a swoop and a sharp peck.
Sally slipped into her shell, but this time she was not quite quick enough. The starling had caught one of her long horns, and now flew off with the eye from the end of it.
"It doesn't matter," said Sally. "I can easily grow another."
She crept under a bush and lived there for a time, and when she came out again another eye had grown at the end of the horn.
"I shall go home now," said Sally. She went home and told the others all about her travels. "We must certainly cross to the strawberry garden next year," said the Snails, "but now winter is coming fast—we must bury ourselves."
They crept into the ground, sealed up the mouths of their shells with lime so that no enemies could enter, and went to sleep for the winter.
MILLY MUSHROOM
She was very tiny at first, and quite brown. Her mother laid her gently on the ground and said: "Creep down into the warmth and grow." So Milly crept down into the warmth, and grew into a little white girl as thin as a thread. For a year she stayed under the ground with her brothers and sisters; then they all put on their best velvet hoods and puffed themselves out to go up into the world.
Billy Button sprang up first. He called down to Milly: "Come up, little sister. The sun is shining through a silver mist and everything is glorious."
"I am not quite ready," said Milly Mushroom. "I must grow bigger first."
She puffed herself out as fast as she could, and at last was ready to go up. She tied her hood over her face to keep the wind off her soft cheeks. Then she too sprang up.
"Oh, dear," she said, "how strange it feels up here!"
"You will soon grow used to it," said Billy Button. "Hurry up and grow, and turn pink like me."
Milly grew and grew and turned pink like Billy Button. Then she untied her hood and peeped out, showing her soft cheeks and pretty white collar.
"What a great world it is!" she said. "It is all so wide and high. I am a little afraid."
"This is only a bit of the world," said Billy Button. "I know, for the Flying Beetle told me. He has travelled far, and has seen wonderful sights. Ah! how I should like to travel!"
"I would rather stay at home," said Milly. She was trembling a little; everything seemed strange up here in the strong light.
"Grow close to me," said a friendly Thistle. "I will shelter you with my long arms." She stretched out one of her arms, and Milly nestled beneath it and was comforted.
All that day and night she and Billy Button grew so fast that when the next morning came they hardly knew one another.
"How big you are, Billy!" said Milly.
"So are you," said Billy. "You are quite a mushroom lady now. But goodness gracious! Whatever is that? What a monster! And how it shakes the ground!"
A boy was walking over the field with a basket in his hand. He was gathering mushrooms. He stooped and pulled Billy Button from the ground.
"Oh, the cruel monster! Oh, poor, poor Billy!" sobbed Milly Mushroom.
But Billy was not at all frightened. "Hurrah! I am going to travel at last!" he cried. "Good-bye, Milly. I shall see the world now."
He was popped into the basket and carried off, while Milly was left shivering under the thistle's arm.
She soon forgot her fright, however, though she often wondered what happened to Billy Button, and whether he enjoyed his travels. She grew taller and bigger every day, and changed her hood for a big flat hat so wide and shady that the little field-mouse could sit under it and talk to her. And the thistle covered her from sight with its friendly arms, so no monster ever found her to put her in his basket and carry her off.
WIGGLE-WAGGLE
Mrs. Earth-worm made a hole under the ground and put an egg in it. Round the egg she wrapped clear jelly to serve as food for the little one when it should hatch. Then she went back to her burrow.
Soon Wiggle-Waggle came out of the egg. He was the tiniest worm you could imagine, but he had a fine appetite; he ate all the jelly his mother had left for him. Then he began to nibble at the earth, and he liked it so much that he went on nibbling. There were all sorts of nice things in it—scraps of leaf and stalk and root and seed—just the things he liked best. The more he ate the bigger he grew; soon you would hardly have known him.
One day he thought: "I wonder what it is like above the ground? I will go up and see."
He began to burrow in an upward, slanting direction, breaking down the earth with his hard little mouth, and swallowing it out of the way. At last he reached the surface of the ground and poked his head through into the daylight. But he drew back quickly into his burrow again, for the strong light hurt him. He could not see it, for he had no eyes, but he could feel it on the skin of his head, and he did not like it. "It makes me feel quite ill," he said. He pulled some loose earth into the mouth of his burrow, and coiled himself round till night fell.
Then he came out once more. Ah! things were very different now! The air was cool and moist, and delightfully dark; hundreds of neighbour worms were crawling over the ground, feasting and talking and visiting one another.
"Oh! there you are at last," said his mother from the next-door burrow. "I have been listening for you. Fix your tail into the top of your burrow, and sway yourself round and feel for your food. Then you can slip back easily if an enemy comes near. There are many enemies about, so listen carefully. And never stay up till daylight comes, or a bird will catch you."
So Wiggle-Waggle entered into the busy night-life of the garden. At first he followed his mother's advice, keeping his tail in his hole while he felt for green leaves, dragging them into his burrow. Later, he grew more venturesome, and crawled out over the ground to make the acquaintance of his neighbours. He lined his burrow with soft leaves and gathered tiny stones together to hide the entrance from the eyes of his enemies. Life was busy and pleasant, and he grew big and strong.
But one night he stayed up too long; when the red light of morning sprang up in the eastern sky he was quite three feet from his home. He hurried, darting his head as far forward as he could reach, sticking his front bristles in the ground, drawing his body up in a loop, dropping it, and then darting his head forward again. He went swiftly, but not quite swiftly enough. An early blackbird saw him, and swooped down upon him. His head and half his body were already in his burrow, but the blackbird's beak closed on his tail.
He stuck all four rows of sharp bristles like tiny pins in the ground, and held on for his life, while the blackbird pulled hard for its breakfast. Snap! crunch! tear! It was dreadful. Poor Wiggle-Waggle parted in the middle, and the blackbird flew off with half of him.
Wiggle-Waggle was not dead, but he felt very unwell. He wriggled down to the bottom of his burrow, and kept very quiet for a long time. And a wonderful thing happened. New rings of body, and then a new tail, grew on the broken end, and soon he was a whole worm again, with only a join-mark to show that an accident had happened.
When he goes up at night now to feed and visit his neighbours, he is very careful not to stay too late. He is still living in his old home, unless the last heavy rain has flooded his burrow and washed him out.
THE LEAF FAIRIES
In the wood the Leaf Fairies were busy making their leaves. They made them of every shape and size, for each fairy had her own idea of what looked prettiest. Some made them long and narrow, like tall and graceful ladies; some made them round and dumpy, like fat little men; some made them heart-shaped, and some cut up the edges till they were all dainty points and curves. Some placed them sitting down on the branches, while others set them on slender stalks. There was no set rule for anything. Each fairy followed her own pretty fancy.
"In the wood the Leaf Fairies were busy making their leaves""In the wood the Leaf Fairies were busy making their leaves"
"In the wood the Leaf Fairies were busy making their leaves""In the wood the Leaf Fairies were busy making their leaves"
Most of the leaves were green, but a few were splashed with yellow or veined with red or lined with silver. Everywhere they covered trees and bushes and low-growing ground plants, growing here in clusters, and there singly or in pairs. The fairies swung themselves far out on the branches to admire their handiwork.
"Now you must be busy," they said to the leaves. "In the daytime you must help the roots to gather food for yourselves and all the family—roots and stems and flowers and seeds; and at night when we have swept the passages you must throw out the rubbish."
"Shall we never have time to play?" asked the leaves anxiously.
"Yes," said the fairies. "When the family is fed each day you may dance with the winds and play hide-and-seek with the sunbeams, and when the autumn is here and all your work is done, we ourselves will take you for a pleasure trip."
The leaves were content, and at once set to work. The fairies made tiny kitchens for them, and here they gathered the food for the family and prepared it for their use. The fairies carried it to roots and stems and flowers and seeds, so they all grew strong and well. At night the fairies swept the passages so clean that not a grain of dirt was left anywhere; the leaves threw out the rubbish from their kitchen doors.
Summer passed and autumn came. "You have worked well," said the fairies to the leaves. "Now you shall have your pleasure-trip."
They dressed the leaves in gay frocks, all gold and crimson and bright brown; they loosened them from the trees and set them floating on the wind. "Now follow us," they said; and the fluttering leaves followed them. First they whirled and danced on the ground beneath the trees, then they rose in the air and flew away, away—nobody knows where. You could not have seen the fairies leading if you had been there, for they are not visible to mortal eyes; but you would have seen the leaves following them. Where they went to I can't tell you. They never came back, though it is said that the fairies did.
BUNNY-BOY
"Now, Bunny-Boy," said his mother, "look after the house while I am away, and mind you do not go outside, for there are boys about to-day."
"What nonsense!" thought Bunny-Boy to himself. "As if I could not run faster than any boy. And I have been waiting for a chance to go and see the world, so I shall go to-day."
As soon as the Bunny-Mother was out of sight, he slipped out and ran away, this naughty Bunny-Boy, with his little white tail bobbing, and his eyes shining with delight. "Now, I shall see what the great world is like," he thought.
He came to a skylark sitting on her nest.
"Good-day, Lady Skylark!" he said. "I am going to see the world. Would you like to come with me?"
"Oh dear no, indeed," said the Skylark. "I have to sit on my eggs. Does your mother know you are going?" Bunny-Boy ran off at once. He did not want to answer that.
He came next to a little hill, where other Bunny-Boys and Bunny-Girls lived. They all came running out to see him, and said: "Stay and play with us."
"No," he said; "I am going to see the world."
"Where is that?" they asked.
"Somewhere over that big fence," said Bunny-Boy. "You may come with me if you like."
"We do not want to come," they said. "You stay here with us." But Bunny-Boy would not stay. He ran off again. The others called out: "We will tell your mother of you." But he only ran the faster.
He went through the big fence, and came into a field of oats. Here men were busy cutting the oats, and Bunny-Boy was so frightened by the noise they made that he scampered out of that field into the next. This was a field of grass, and Bunny-Boy thought: "Now I can begin to enjoy myself."
Just then he heard a bark, and a big dog rushed over the grass after him. A boy came with the dog, and now poor Bunny-Boy had to run for his life. How he did run! But the dog could run too, and he nearly caught Bunny-Boy. His mouth, with its sharp teeth, was just open ready to snap on Bunny-Boy's back, when Bunny-Boy saw a hole in front of him, jumped into it, and was saved.
At the bottom of the hold he found a Bunny-house, and some kind Bunnies, who let him stay there till the dog and its master had gone away. Then he crept out, and went sadly home.
"I will always do what you tell me," he said to his mother that night. "It was dreadful out in the world. I would much rather stay at home and mind the house."
LOVE-MOTHER
A potato and a rusty nail lay side by side in an old shed. Through the winter they found very little to say to one another, but when the spring came the potato grew restless and talkative.
"This is a poor life for us," she said. "Do you not feel that it is a waste of time lying here like this?"
"Not at all," said the rusty nail. "If you had been knocked about as much as I have you would be glad to lie still." He was bent in the back and had lost half his head, so he had a right to talk.
"But I want to grow!" cried the potato. "I want to go down into the dark warm earth, where it is so easy to grow. Then I should send up white stalks that turn green when they reach the sunlight, and bear broad leaves and beautiful flowers. My children would grow on my white, stalks under the ground. Ah! that would be life indeed!"
"You seem to me to be talking nonsense," said the nail. "I once lived in a kitchen, where a great many potatoes were cooked every day, but none of them had the beautiful leaves and flowers you talk about."
But the potato was not listening now, for something seemed to be moving inside her. "I feel so strange!" she cried. "I am sure something is going to happen."
The next moment something did happen. The skin was pushed open, and a little white shoot poked its head out. "I am growing!" cried the potato joyfully. "Oh, I wish somebody would put me in the ground." But, alas! nobody understood potato-language, so she lay there for several days longer. Then a little boy who was playing saw her and picked her up.
"Here is a potato growing without any ground," he said. "I shall plant it in my garden."
He carried her to his garden, made a hole, and planted her. She nestled thankfully down into the warm earth as he covered her up. "At last I am put into my right place and can really grow," she said. And grow she did. Shoot after shoot ran up from her sides, spreading out in the sunlight into broad green leaves and beautiful lavender coloured flowers. And the little potatoes came, all along the white underground stems. Bigger and bigger they grew, till they were as big and fine as their mother had been. How proud she was of them!
But as they grew she dwindled and lost her strength, for she was giving all the substance of her body to feed her children. "What is the matter, little Love-Mother?" they asked tenderly. "Why do you grow so weak and thin?" They did not understand where their food came from, but she knew and was well content. "It is my life, but they need it, and I am happy in giving it," she said softly to herself.
So day by day she grew less and less, till with a loving sigh she died. "I am happy," was her last thought, "for I have done my part in the world, and now, like the rusty nail, I am glad to rest."
THE HILL PRINCESS
It was when Roy and Charlie were out rabbiting that they met the Hill Princess. They had gone much farther than they usually did, and that is how they found her. It was in a long gully at the foot of the tallest hill of all, and she had come down the side of the hill to meet them. She was tall and beautiful, and her robes were as green as the grass in the gully, while her crown was all of starry white clematis flowers.
"Have you had a good time?" she asked. The boys were too shy to speak at first—she was so grand and wonderful. But they knew it was polite to answer when you are spoken to, so Charlie plucked up courage and said: "Yes, thank you."
"That is right," she said kindly. Then she stood and looked at them for quite a long time, while the boys grew shyer and shyer under her searching eyes. At last she spoke. "I am trying to feel your hearts," she said. "I can feel those of my own people at once, but yours are hard to understand."
The boys did not know what she meant, but they were too shy to ask. She went on: "I should like to show you my Palace, but I must first know whether it is safe to trust you. Can you keep your word?"
"I can!" cried both boys at once. The thought of seeing the Palace took away their shyness.
"Well," said the Princess, "if I take you to the Palace, you must first promise not to tell anybody about it—not even your mothers. No mortal has ever before seen it, and I do not wish others to come to look for it; so you must not tell them about it. Do you promise?" The boys promised at once, and the Princess said: "I shall always hold you to that. See that you keep your word. Now come."
They followed her a few steps up the side of the hill. Here she stopped, and tapped with her foot on the ground. Instantly a door flew open in the hillside, and they entered. The door swung to behind them, and they found themselves in the Princess's throne-room.
It was a magnificent room, wide and lofty. The walls and roof and floor were all of glittering limestone, lit up by magic star-shaped lights of brilliant colours. In the centre stood a throne of solid gold, with a rug made of crimson flower-petals thrown half over it. "Don't the petals fade?" asked Roy as they admired the beautiful rug.
"Nothing fades in my Palace," answered the Princess.
She led them from room to room, talking kindly to them, and showing them quite proudly all the beauties of her home. It was indeed a wonderful Palace. Each room was different from all the others. In one the walls were made of gold, in another of silver, in another of opal, and in others of emerald or ruby or diamond, until one's eyes almost tired of the brilliance.
The furniture was as beautiful as the walls, but the boys noticed that the chairs and tables and sofas and beds were all made very low, except those for the Princess herself. Indeed, so close to the ground were they that Charlie asked the Princess: "Are your people very little, Hill Princess?"
The Princess laughed. "Come and see them," she said, and she led the way out to the back of the hill. Here they found themselves in an open space covered with grass and flowers and little bushes. On every side rose a high straight bank, covered with bush creepers, and behind the bank rose tall bush trees to hide the place from view. "This is our playground," said the Princess, "and here are my people."
The boys looked round eagerly. All they could see were rabbits and hares and birds and insects—rabbits and hares and birds and insects everywhere—hundreds of them playing on the grass, amongst the flowers, in the bushes. The boys were puzzled.
"Where are the people?" asked Charlie.
The Princess laughed again. "The hill creatures are my people," she said. "There, the animals can talk and work and play just as you can. The hares and rabbits do the work of the Palace; the birds fly in with our food from the surrounding country; and the insects take our messages. So work is provided for all. For their play they come here, and here they are so much at peace with one another that everyone is safe. To hurt anything is impossible here."
Now all this time Charlie had been thinking: "What a grand place for rabbiting!" So he looked up with rather a red face at the Princess's words. She knew what he was thinking, for she said: "See if you can touch Little Hoppy." She pointed, as she spoke, to a wise-looking rabbit who sat close to her feet, looking up at her with loving eyes.
Roy and Charlie both bent down to catch Little Hoppy, but they found to their astonishment that, although he sat quite still, they could not touch him. Again and again they tried, but every time something seemed to push away their hands. It was not the rabbit—he never moved. Neither was it the Princess. She stood smiling beside them. "It's magic," said the Princess.
"Come and play marbles," said Little Hoppy. The boys jumped. So the rabbits could talk in this strange place, could they? And play marbles, too? Why, yes, there were several marble rings in the playground, with bunnies and birds all playing together and chattering as fast as any crowd of boys. And hares were playing leap-frog. And groups of bush-robins were nursing tiny dolls.
"Well, this is a comical place," said Roy. "May we go and have a game?" he asked the Princess.
The Princess shook her head. "It is too late to-day," she said. "You must leave us now, or it will be dark before you reach your homes. But keep your promise to me, and I will give you a stone that will guide you to the Palace another time. Then you may come earlier and so have time for a game."
The boys were overjoyed. "That will be first-rate," they said. "When may we come again?"
"The moon was full last night," answered the Princess. "Come always on the day after the full moon. See—these will guide you." She picked two small stones off the ground and gave them one each. As she touched them they gleamed and shone like opals; but when the boys took them they lost their light. "Do not lose these," she said. "If you keep your promise these stones will guide you to the Palace and open the door for you." She took them back through the Palace and out on to the hillside again. The boys thanked her and said good-bye, and she went in, shutting the door behind her with a word. When it was shut, you could not tell it was there, for the grass and tussocks grew over it.
Roy and Charlie went straight home, talking all the way about the wonderful things they had seen and heard. "We must watch carefully for the next full moon," said Roy at his gate, as they stood for a moment to say good-night. "Yes, indeed," said Charlie, "what a time we shall have!" Then he hurried home.
"Have you had a good time, Charlie?" asked his mother at tea-time.
"Rather!" said Charlie. "I don't believe anybody ever saw so many wonderful things as we saw to-day." And then he grew so excited at the thought of it all that he forgot about his promise, and told his mother and father about the Princess and the Palace. He knew before he had finished that he had done wrong, but that did not stop him. And the worst of it was that neither his father nor his mother believed him. His mother at first looked very grave, and asked him if he had been in the sun without his hat, but his father said: "Nonsense! the sun was not hot to-day. See that he doesn't read too much, Mary. We don't want him to learn to spin yarns like this." Then he was sent to bed.
Roy did not break his promise. He told his father and mother about his rabbiting, and about things he saw on the hills and in the gullies, but he said nothing at all about the Princess and the Palace. It was hard to keep silent when it was such a wonderful secret, but he remembered his promise.
And that is how Roy found the Palace again and Charlie did not. When the day after the full moon came, they both started out, but Roy's stone led him straight to the Palace, while Charlie's led him all the afternoon away from it. They were magic stones, and had power to punish and reward. So Roy was led to the Princess, and had all sorts of wonderful games with Little Hoppy, while Charlie, because he had not kept his word, was led astray and not allowed to follow Roy or find the Palace for himself. And he has never found it yet.
URCHINS IN THE SEA
Baby Urchin was vexed. "The grown-ups have all the fun," he said to his brothers and sisters. "Every day they play on the beach, while we are told to stay here amongst these stupid rocks and seaweeds. On the beach they have glorious times. I have often heard them talk about it. Why shouldn't we go?"
"Yes, indeed," said the others. "Let us all go."
They swam eagerly from their playground between the rocks—the queerest babies you ever saw. They looked as if they were made of chalk and glass; and each had about twelve long arms, sticking straight out in every direction from the funny white body.
They were fast swimmers; they went gaily on, never thinking of possible dangers. But a hungry fish saw them, and came straight at them with wide-open mouth. Snap! The cruel jaws closed together, and a hundred Baby Urchins fell down the great throat. Then those who were left turned and swam for home as fast as their terrified arms could take them.
"You were very disobedient, and you all deserved to be eaten up," said the grown-up Urchins when they heard what had happened. "And besides, it is no use coming to the beach yet. You can't possibly roll on the beach with those long arms of yours."
"It seems to take such a long time to grow up," said Baby Urchin.
"Eat plenty," said the grown-ups, "then you will soon be like us."
Time passed. The little Urchins did not again try to reach the beach, but they ate plenty and they grew big. Then they began to change. Their funny arms grew shorter and shorter till they disappeared altogether; their bodies grew thicker; and then at last their shells began to come.
"Now we are growing up!" cried Baby Urchin joyfully.
Their shells grew fast, and so did the babies inside, changing their shape altogether. Up and down the round shells ran rows of tiny holes, and in between the rows of holes scores of little white balls grew out. On the balls movable spines grew, and through each hole peeped a new leg ready to stretch far out when it was needed for swimming or walking. Under the shell was the mouth; from it five strong white teeth hung down to crush the seaweed and break it up for food. On top of the shell were tiny eye specks.
At last they were ready. "Come on," cried Baby Urchin. "Nobody can hurt us now." He led the way to the beach. They all followed, swimming with their legs and spines, and looking like hedgehogs in the sea.
What a time they had when they reached the beach! They swam in with a wave, rolled over and over on the beach, burrowed with their tiny spines in the soft sand, and then swam out with the next wave. "It is splendid to be grown up," they said.
WHERE WHITE WAVES PLAY
I.—RED-BILL
In a sand-strewn hollow of a rock ledge on a tiny island lay a seagull's egg, yellow and grey and brown, to match the yellow and grey and brown of the sand and rocks. White waves played beneath it, dancing each day to the foot of the ledge, and throwing handfuls of spray up its rocky side, but never breaking over the top. Sea winds whisked above it, but never blew it from its sandy bed. No hungry hawk spied it from his vigilant soaring place; no hunting dog found it. Safe from harm, and quickened by the genial sun and the warmth of the mother's tender breast, the speck of life inside the egg grew slowly to a seagull baby.
When the baby first peeped out from the soft darkness of his mother's sheltering wings the world looked very wide and dazzling. Overhead the big blue sky shone brightly, sunshine flooded all the air; nearer home gleaming points of light, like little stars, flashed on all sides amidst the sand. He drew in his head.
"The light is too bright, mother," he said. "It hurts my eyes. But what is that sweet sound I hear?"
"Dear one, those are the white waves at play. They are the kind friends who carry your meals to shore. See—here is your father with a sea-worm for your breakfast. Open your bill and swallow."
He was the fluffy darling of his parents, their sole care and joy. Day after day, week after week, they waited on him, by turns guarding him and fishing for him, bringing him soft delicious morsels of crab and pipi and tender fish. Under such faithful feeding he grew fast. Each day he looked over his ledge.
"The waves, mother!" he said. "The white, white waves! They are always calling. May I not go yet to the sea?"
"Not yet," his mother would reply. "Baby gulls must wait till feathers grow in place of down."
Feathers grew in place of down. Baby wings broadened and grew strong, and at last he could fly.
"The waves still call, mother," he pleaded.
"Come, then," said his mother at last, and down they all went to the sea, and the joy of life began.
He was as yet only a mottled brown baby, not nearly so handsome as his dove-backed parents with their breasts of snow. But his pink webbed toes oared their way gleefully through the clear water, and his little brown bill learned to snap the fleeing fish as cunningly as the crimson beaks of the older birds.
What a life that was! They soared over restless waves on scarcely-moving wings, swooping low and dropping where the flash of fins proclaimed a feast. They circled tiny bays whose seaweed carpets clothed the floors in rainbow hues; or rode like fairy craft upon the ever-rolling breakers on the shelving shores. When fierce winds blew, they wheeled and screamed like spirits of the storm, laughing to see the surface of the sea torn up and flung against the high coast rocks.
Slowly, as the months rolled by, the little Red-bill's feathers changed from mottled brown to pearly grey and shining white; scarlet flamed on bill and feet. The full bright beauty of his kind was on him.
Mating season came. "Little love," he said to his chosen one, "I know an island where our egg will be safe and our baby sheltered. There, where white waves sing and dance all day, he shall be loved and tended as I was loved and tended."
II.—THE SEA-SQUIRT WHO STOOD ON HIS HEAD
Far out into the waters of a quiet bay stretched a wooden jetty, old and rotting and scarcely ever used. The browned and blackened timbers that showed above the water-line were by no means beautiful, but at their feet was fairyland. Here, in pale green clearness, forests of delicate seaweeds bent their gold and amber beads to the gentle movement of the water; swift-finned fishes, gay in scarlet and silver and bronze, swam the forest pathways and chased each other in and out cool shaded bowers beneath the filmy branches; most beautiful of all, myriads of long-tubed sea-squirts waved their pink and crimson balls from the jetty piles, like great closed poppies in the sea.
How they waved! Up and down, backwards and forwards. Not moved by the water, but moving in the water, though never freed from the jetty piles. After all, these were not flowers, but animals.
Continually they opened their pink, round mouths to let the water pass through their bodies, in the hope that each fresh mouthful might contain a meal. Again and again, squirt! They were forced to throw out some fragment of shell or rock which had floated in and caused annoyance.
At the foot of one pile there was some excitement, for a baby sea-squirt was setting out to see the world. He was impatient to be off, but his mother was giving him a great deal of advice. If you had seen him lying in the water you would never have recognised him as the sea-squirt's son. No mother and son were ever more unlike. She was big, with a thick-skinned tube half a yard long, and a ball at the top shaped like a quince; he was tiny and soft, and looked like a baby tadpole. She was gaily coloured; he was colourless and jelly-like. She was fixed to the jetty pile; he could swim. Yet, in spite of these great differences, mother and son they were.
"Dear child," she said, "whatever you do, never stand on your head."
"Of course not," he replied; "I shall never wish to."
"But you will wish to," cried his mother. "You won't be able to help it. It runs in the family. Listen, son. Once I was like you; I could swim and move about to find my food. Before me, all our grandfathers and grandmothers for millions of years back were for a part of their lives like you. If they had never stood on their heads they might have grown eyes and backbones and fins, and become as great and clever as the fishes. But because those old grandparents became lazy and stood on their heads till they grew to the rocks, we in turn have all grown lazy, and we in turn have been punished by the loss of our swimming powers. If you could only break loose from the family's bad habit, you might start a glorious free race of sea-squirts. All the most successful creatures in the sea are those that have backbones and eyes. You have the beginnings of these two things in you, but if you stand on your head you will lose them, as I have done. You will become fixed and helpless like the seaweeds. Promise me never to stand on your head. Promise me that you will keep moving."
"Yes, mother. Oh, yes. Good-bye. Good-bye." The impatient little fellow could wait no longer.
"How grown-ups talk!" he thought. "As if I should ever wish to stand on my head!"
He swam about for several hours, enjoying himself exceedingly in this great wet world. At last he came to the end pile of the jetty. Here, to his great astonishment, there suddenly came upon him the most overpowering desire to stand on his head. To stand on his head! The very thing his mother had foretold. Well, she was right, after all, so perhaps she was right in advising him to keep moving. "I will swim on," he said.
He swam on bravely. But before him was the wide open sea, with no comfortable piles to rest against. And oh! how he longed to rest. Just to put that heavy head of his down against something firm—how delightful that would be! That was a splendid pile, that last one! So strong and wide. It could not matter if he rested just a few minutes. He really would not stay long.
So, forgetting his promise, this foolish baby swam back. Down went his head against the comfortable pile, and alas! there he has stayed ever since. His mother's wise words faded from his mind. He was too lazy to stir. From his head tiny tubes grew on to the wood, holding him there for life.
What a change has come over him! Tail and little growing eye and backbone, all have died away; in their place has grown the long tube with the gaily-coloured fleshy ball at its end, through which the water runs with every wave, bringing sometimes food, sometimes nothing but sand and stones. Gone are the old swimming powers, the old free life. Gone is all chance of growing into something strong and grand and successful. He is beautiful, but he is helpless.
I wonder does he ever think of what might have been? Does he ever say, sadly: "If I had but kept moving on!"
III.—BOBBY BARNACLE'S WANDERINGS
The Barnacles lived on the rocks with the Mussels and Limpets and red Anemones. There were hundreds and thousands and millions of little shell-houses, set so closely together that scarcely any room was left for pathways. Twice a day the friendly waves, like busy white-capped waiters, hurried up the shore with a feast of tiny sea creatures in their soft, wet hands. Then, one by one, doors were carefully opened while the waiting shell-people took in their food, but were soon shut again, for fear of lurking enemies.
It was a quiet life, but so safe that the rocks became overcrowded. When Bobby Barnacle and his brothers and sisters and cousins were hatched out of their little egg-cases and swam from their mother's acorn-shell houses, the old Barnacles were alarmed.
"Dear me!" said the very oldest. "What a swarm of you! For goodness sake don't come back here to settle after your swim. We are crowded already."
"Plenty of room in the sea!" laughed Bobby. "Come on everybody. We are not thinking of settling down yet. We are going to have a grand time first. I am sure I shall never wish to spend all my time in one place. A roving life for me!"
Headed by Bobby, the shoal of Barnacle babies set off on their travels. They certainly did not look in the least like settling down. They swam and dived and frolicked and tumbled and whisked about in the dancing waves as if possessed by the very spirit of movement. To such atoms of energy, sitting still on a rock was plainly an impossibility. They were queer, tiny, soft-bodied creatures. Thin, delicate shields on their backs were their only shells. They each had three pairs of legs, one eye, and a funny, spiky tail. As they went they ate hungrily, swallowing sea animals so tiny that scores of them would go into a small girl's thimble.
"Look out!" Bobby shouted suddenly. As he spoke he turned to the right and swam for dear life, hiding at last under a tangle of ferny seaweed. The others were too late to save themselves. A great fish had swallowed them all in three snaps of its cruel jaws, and Bobby was left alone in the wide sea. He was badly frightened, but presently he swam out from his hiding-place and continued his travels. It was somewhat lonely, but he soon grew accustomed to that. Indeed, he began to like it. He swam and ate and whisked about in the water as cheerfully as ever, keeping his one eye well opened for possible enemies. A shoal of cousins from a sea rock met him.
"Come and play with us," they said.
"No," said Bobby; "I'm going to travel."
Out to sea he went, amongst all the wonders of the white-crested water. Below him lay great colonies of bright corals and sponges and sea-anemones, living their simple quiet lives. Around him rushed and darted eager, busy fishes, keeping him ever on the move to evade their hungry jaws. Many a narrow escape he had, but he was so nimble that he never was caught.
As he grew, his skin and shield became too small for him. "This is most uncomfortable," he thought. Split! Skin and shield dropped off. New ones had been growing underneath, but these at first were soft, and he had to shelter under seaweed till they hardened. To his great comfort they were soon firmer than the old ones. Several times he moulted in this way, and each time the new skin and shield came harder and stronger, making him safer from his enemies.
One day a strange thing happened. He lost his appetite. "Whatever is the matter with me?" he wondered. He soon discovered. He was changing his shape. Another eye grew, and three more pairs of legs, and a shield on the front as well as the back.
"Well, I am a fine, strong fellow now," he thought. "I feel as if I could do wonders."
He swam on faster than ever. Indeed, his activity was marvellous. He seemed to shoot through the water. But, strangely enough, he still could not eat, so it is no wonder that at last he grew tired.
"I think I must settle down on something," he said. "This life is really most exhausting. And yet I don't want to sit down on a rock and stay in one place all my life. I wish I could find something moving."
Something moving came through the water, something so huge that to the tiny Barnacle its side was like the side of a world. It was a whale, but Bobby was not afraid. As it slowly lifted its great body through the waves he made his way to it and clung on with all his strength. The whale plunged on his mighty way to colder seas, bearing his little unfelt rider with him.
"Hurrah!" said Bobby. "Now I shall still travel on, without being obliged to do my own swimming."
A more wonderful change than ever before came over him. A tiny bag of cement opened from his head and glued him to the whale's skin. Six strong shells grew round him in an acorn ring, exactly like those of his mother's shell-house on the rock. Four more grew into a door. When he opened the door he could shoot out his twelve curled legs and kick his food down into his mouth in the shell-house. So there he was, living head down and toes up on the whale, and glued so tightly that he could never fall off.
He was grown-up now. All his changes were over. His appetite came back, and he went travelling easily and comfortably with the whale. For all you or I know to the contrary, his roving life may be still going on.