The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Sun's BabiesThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: The Sun's BabiesAuthor: Edith HowesIllustrator: Frank WatkinsRelease date: November 19, 2011 [eBook #38063]Most recently updated: January 8, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Al Haines*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SUN'S BABIES ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: The Sun's BabiesAuthor: Edith HowesIllustrator: Frank WatkinsRelease date: November 19, 2011 [eBook #38063]Most recently updated: January 8, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Al Haines
Title: The Sun's Babies
Author: Edith HowesIllustrator: Frank Watkins
Author: Edith Howes
Illustrator: Frank Watkins
Release date: November 19, 2011 [eBook #38063]Most recently updated: January 8, 2021
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Al Haines
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SUN'S BABIES ***
[Frontispiece: "'Why has your tree no flowers while ours are pink?'" (missing from book)]
The
Sun's Babies
By Edith Howes
Author of "Fairy Rings,""Rainbow Children," etc.
With Four Illustrations in Colour byFRANK WATKINS
Cassell and Company, Ltd
London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne
1913
First published October 1910.Reprinted September and November 1911, August 1912, January 1913.ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
CONTENTS
The Sun-Man's BabiesThe Snowdrop BabyLittle Golden HeartDickie CodlinThe Apple FairyJohnny CrocusThe Daffodil BabyDaffodilsWilly WallflowerSweet VioletThe Cherry ChildrenThe Daisy FairyMy GardenBed-timePansyMay FairiesThe DragonGold Broom and White BroomKitty Crayfish's HousekeepingThe Garden PartyBluebellsCowslipsOf Royal BloodBillybuzz the DroneHoneyOn the HillsideThe Sun's NestCrikitty-CrikThe Discontented RootCreepy-CrawlyBlackieLittle BirdsThe BrowniesBrave Rose-PinkSweet-Pea LandMrs. Frog, Mr. Frog, and the Little FrogButtercupsSpinny SpiderSpinny Spider's ChildrenTinyboyThe Mosquito BabiesThe ScramblerWoollymoollyThistle-MotherSally Snail's WanderingsMilly MushroomWiggle-WaggleThe Leaf FairiesBunny-BoyLove-MotherThe Hill PrincessUrchins in the SeaWhere White Waves Play—(I)Red-Bill(II)The Sea-Squirt who Stood on his Head(III)Bobby Barnacle's Wanderings(IV)Little Starfish(V)Kelp(VI)Black Shag(VII)Through Days of Growth(VIII)Fanny Flatface(IX)The Oyster BabiesFanny FlyAt SunsetSummer TearsThe Wheat PeopleChick-a-PickChick-a-Pick's CrowThe Gorse-MotherThe Proud Paling FenceTail-upThe Rain-FairyThe Disobedient SunbeamsWhite-BrierA Trip into the CountryGrey-KingThe Season FairiesSpring StorySpring TimeSummer StorySummer TimeAutumn StoryAutumn TimeWinter StoryWinter Time
LIST OF PLATES
"'WHY HAS YOUR TREE NO FLOWERS WHILE OURS ARE PINK?'". . .Frontispiece
"WHEN SHE SAW TINYBOY, SHE HID HER FACE SHYLY IN HER CURLS"
"IN THE WOOD THE LEAF FAIRIES WERE BUSY MAKING THEIR LEAVES"
"SHE WENT TO THE AFTERNOON CLOUDS AND ASKED THEM TO PLAY WITH HER"
THE SUN-MAN'S BABIES
The Moon-Man sent his stars to bed,And turned a pitying eyeTo where the Sun-Man sailed alone,Across the eastern sky.
"Poor thing!" he said. "How sad to haveNo children round your knee.A thousand thousand stars are mineHow lonely you must be!"
The Sun-Man laughed a jolly laugh.He pointed far below,To where the shining busy earthSwung golden in his glow.
"A million million babes are mine,"He said, "on yonder earth;My sunbeams wrap them all the day,To me they owe their birth.
"A million million babes smile upFrom dawn till day is done.And when I say my last good-nightI kiss them every one."
THE SUN'S BABIES
THE SNOWDROP BABY
The Snowdrop Baby lay in her little cradle under the ground. Do you know how white and smooth the Snowdrop cradle is, and how snugly the silky sheets are tucked round the baby?
Above the ground it was summer. The birds sang, the bees hummed, the roses and pinks talked to one another across the beds. "What a number of flowers are out this year!" they said. "The garden is full of blossom." Do you know that the flowers talk?
The Snowdrop Baby listened to it all. "I am not needed yet," she said. She turned over and went to sleep.
Summer passed, and autumn came. Asters and dahlias talked to one another now, and tiger lilies bloomed in the garden.
The Snowdrop Baby woke and listened. "My time is not yet come," she said. She slept again.
Winter came. Frost following frost killed all the flowers; storm after storm blew the dead leaves away, leaving the brown stalks bare. Snow fell, and melted. A tiny drop crept down to where the Snowdrop Baby lay. Do you know how the water-drops creep down?
"Your time has come," it said.
"Yes," said the Baby joyfully; "I am making my white frock. Soon I shall go up."
Next day she was ready. She pushed her way through the soft wet earth, and reached the top. Up yet, and up, till she hung on her green stalk high above the ground.
How beautiful she looked in her snowy frock! Pure white it was, except for here and there a splash of softest green. Do you know how lovely Snowdrop Babies are?
She turned her face to the ground, for the sun dazzled her, and made her shy; but a bird saw her. "A Snowdrop! A Snowdrop!" he sang. "Spring is coming, sweet spring is coming!" Do you know how sweet spring is?
LITTLE GOLDEN HEART
A field-daisy opened her golden heart, and looked up at the blue sky. The warm sun shone on her, and the morning wind blew softly over her; but the daisy was afraid. "The world is so wide, and I am so small," she sighed. "I cannot be of any use. Perhaps it would be better to fold my petals and hide my head."
A bee flew down and settled on the daisy. "Dear little Golden Heart, how sweet you are!" she whispered. "How your white petals shine! Their tips are pink, as if the wind had kissed them. Will you give me honey and pollen to make bee bread for the babies in the hive?"
The daisy shook with joy. "Take all I have," she said. "How glad I am to find that I am loved and needed!"
A lark dropped from the sky, singing a glorious song that told about the beauty of the clouds. He saw the daisy.
"Dear little Golden Heart, how sweet you are!" he sang, as he came down. "How your white petals shine! Their tips are pink, as if the wind had kissed them. Will you stay there and bloom so that my babies peeping from their nest may watch you all the day? They love to look at pretty, shining things."
"Gladly, gladly!" cried the daisy. "How sweet it is to think that they should like to look at me!"
A little girl came tripping over the short grass. When she saw the daisy she ran to it and knelt beside it. She touched it lovingly.
"Dear little Golden Heart, how sweet you are!" she said. "How your white petals shine! Their tips are pink, as if the wind had kissed them. Will you stay here and bloom till I may bring the baby out to see you?"
"Oh, how willingly!" whispered the daisy. Now her golden heart was full of joy.
"What a happy, happy world!" she thought. "Although it is so wide, there is a place for me. I can be useful and give pleasure. What could be better than that?"
Thankfully she spread her shining petals to the sun. When night came she folded their tips together, and hung her head, to rest till morning light again brought happiness.
DICKIE CODLIN
The spring winds rocked Dickie Codlin to and fro as he lay in his scented cradle, and the happy bees buzzed their honey song over him. For he lay wrapped in his tiny egg-skin in the heart of an apple blossom. Mrs. Moth had gently laid him there only a day or two before.
The pink apple-petals loosened their hold and dropped to the ground, and the flower closed up and grew into an apple. And Dickie Codlin hatched himself out of his egg-skin and grew into a little caterpillar, with a pink and white skin and ever so many fat, short legs. He still lived on in the heart of the apple.
It was a delightful place to have for a home, for the walls were made of the food he liked best, and all he had to do was to turn himself round and nibble. So he stayed there, eating and growing, till he could not grow any bigger. Then he ate his way out to the skin.
He stood in the entrance of the opening he had made, and looked down. "Dear me!" he said, "it seems a long way to the ground. But I must reach it somehow."
He sat down on the apple and spun a silk thread, fixed it to the hole through which he had come, and dropped by it. "Good-bye, apple-home," he called as he went; but the apple said nothing, for its heart was eaten out.
When he reached the ground he hurried to the trunk of the tree, crawled up it till he found a loose scrap of bark, and crept under this safe hiding-place.
"Now I am going to make my new clothes for my wedding," he said; so he spun a little silk workroom for himself. Into this he crept, and here he made his new clothes for his wedding. He made a brown velvet suit and beautiful bronze-tipped wings trimmed with gold-dust.
By and by he came out looking wonderfully neat and handsome. Off he flew into the warm, scented air to be married to pretty Miss Codlin. It was a splendid wedding. Everybody wore new clothes and danced in the maze dance, and after that they had a honey feast.
THE APPLE FAIRY
She was usually a busy little fairy, but one year she grew lazy. "I am going to take a rest," she said; "I don't see why I should work so hard. I shall sleep all the winter and play all the summer, and the apple-tree can take care of itself."
She curled herself up in her snug little bed, down amongst the roots of the apple-tree, and there she slept through the winter, creeping out only now and again to peep and shiver at the cold, wet world outside. No work was done in the workroom, where in other winters she had been so busy, and so, when the spring came, and all the other apple-trees were wreathed in sweet pink flowers, hers alone stood bare and brown.
The bees came round the tree, buzzing their surprise and disappointment. "Wake up, Apple Fairy!" they called. "The spring has come, and your tree is bare. Where are our honey-cups and pollen-bags?" The moths and early butterflies came fluttering round the bees, for they too were anxious about the honey-cups. But the Apple Fairy gave them no satisfaction. "Go away," she called from her bed; "I don't care about your old honey-cups; I am going to rest." So they had to fly away to other trees.
The birds came next. "Why, Apple Fairy, where are your flowers?" they chirped. "At this rate there will be no apples, and that will be a sad loss to us, for yours were the sweetest in the garden."
"Go away," called the Apple Fairy. "I don't care about your old apples; I am going to rest."
"How very strange!" said the birds to one another. "This is not like our little Apple Fairy of other springs." They flew away to the flowered trees to sing.
The sun shone brightly, the air was clear and warm, and the apple fairies came up from their workrooms for their spring dance on the young clover-leaves. "But where is our little sister?" they asked. They ran to her tree, only to find it bare and empty.
"Where are you, little sister?" they called.
She came up and stood on a branch to look at them.
"What is the matter?" they asked. "Why has your tree no flowers, while ours are pink? Where are your petals? Perhaps you have not yet had time to unroll them all. Shall we help you?"
"No, thank you," she said; "I am having a rest; there will be no apples this year on my tree, for I have slept all the winter and am going to play all the summer."
The fairies looked shocked. "You mustn't do that!" they cried. "Why, if we all did that there would be no apples at all!"
"I don't care about the old apples," she said sulkily, and down she went again.
She came up a few minutes later to peep at the happy fairies dancing on the clover, while the birds sang their gayest songs, and the crickets played their little banjos; but she did not join them, for she felt that they did not approve of her laziness. "Ah, well, my leaves will soon be out, for I put the buds on last summer," she said to herself. "When they come I shall make a swing, and swing all through the long sunny days."
Soon the leaves opened out. She made the swing, hung it on a branch, and sat in it in the pleasant shade, while the other fairies polished up the growing apples and formed the buds for the next year's leaves. She was not really happy, but she tried to think she was. She was rather lonely, and, somehow, it was dull when there was nothing to do. But she did not go down to her work; she swung herself to and fro, to and fro, till the autumn came, and the apples on the other trees were ripe.
One day a merry, childish voice floated through the garden: "Oh, grandpa! it's my birthday, so I have come for an apple off your best tree."
Then at last the Apple Fairy hung her head, and was sorry, for her punishment had come. Every year, on her birthday, pretty little Elsie had been given the best apple in the garden, and every year until now the Apple Fairy had been proud to know that it had been picked from her tree. Now, alas! she had no apples. Elsie would be disappointed; and she was very fond of Elsie.
Elsie was indeed disappointed. She listened to her grandfather as he told her how his best apple-tree had failed this year, and how he thought he must cut it down if it did not do better next year. Then Elsie came and stood under the tree and looked up anxiously into the branches. "I am so sorry!" she said aloud. "I wonder if it will have apples on next year? I do hope it will."
"It shall! Indeed it shall!" cried the Apple Fairy. She sprang to the end of a branch so that Elsie could see her. "I have been lazy," she said. "I have slept all the winter and have played all the summer, but now I shall work. You shall have apples next year. Good-bye, little Elsie! Here is my swing."
She took down her swing, put it into Elsie's hands, and went down to her workroom. Elsie was so astonished at the sight of a real fairy and a real fairy swing that she could find nothing to say; but, when she came again the next year, the apples on her favourite tree were again the finest in the garden, and the Apple Fairy was again busy and happy.
JOHNNY CROCUS
"Wake up! Wake up, little Johnny Crocus! Sit on my knee and begin to grow."
Johnny woke up, sat on his mother's knee, and began to grow. His mother fed him on rich white food, and wrapped him warmly in soft blankets, so he grew big and strong. They lived together under the ground, in a little round house with brown walls.
One day Johnny said: "Now, I should like to go up and see what the world is like. May I go up to-day?"
"Not yet," said his mother. "You must make your flower first."
So Johnny set to work to make his flower. In the middle he set the pistil with its fans. Round the pistil he put the orange-coloured stamens with their long narrow sacks on their heads, ready to be filled with pollen. Outside the stamens he made a row of petals, small and closely folded now, but soon to grow big and wide. Then he wrapped a fine white silk cloak round the whole flower to keep it from harm.
"My flower is made," he said to his mother. "May I go up now to see what the world is like?"
"Not yet," said the mother. "Make your leaves first."
So he made his leaves and set them closely round the flower. They were long and thin and pale yellow, for they could not turn green till they reached the sunlight.
"My leaves are made," he said to his mother. "May I go up now to see what the world is like?"
"Not yet," said his mother. "Make your pollen first."
So he made his pollen, and filled the long sacks with it. Then his flower was quite ready. He wrapped one white silk cloak after another over flower and leaves together, till they were so snugly covered that no greedy insect could reach them.
"My pollen is made," he said to his mother. "May I go up now to see what the world is like?"
"Yes," said his mother. Johnny jumped for joy. He pushed and pushed through the brown earth above him; at last out popped his little head into the light.
The winter had not yet gone; snow still lay in shaded places. But the sun was shining, and he shone now full on Johnny Crocus. The silken cloaks fell away, the leaves sprang out and turned green, and slowly the flower opened its beautiful golden heart to the warmth of the sunshine.
"Why, there is Johnny Crocus!" called the sun. He shone more brightly than ever on the gleaming petals.
"If Johnny is up we must be stirring too," said the other crocuses. They sprang up and nodded and laughed to Johnny across the ground. Then the snowdrops peeped out, and soon the whole garden woke up, and the spring came.
THE DAFFODIL BABY
It was winter time, and the Daffodil Baby lay wrapped in her warm brown blankets under the ground. But she was not a contented Baby; she wanted to be up above the ground to see what the great world was like. "It is very dull down here," she said to her little friend, the Earth-worm. "Do please go up and see if it is time for me to rise."
The Earth-worm wriggled his way to the top of the ground, but he soon came back, shivering with cold. "Don't think of going up yet," he said; "lie down and sleep again in your warm blankets. On the earth there is nothing to be seen but snow and ice. You would be frozen if you went up now."
So the Daffodil Baby lay down and went to sleep, and slept for many days and nights. By and by, however, she woke and grew restless again. "Please see if I may go up yet," she said. The kind Earth-worm went up again, but came back as quickly as before. "Stay where you are," he cried. "It has rained so much that all the garden is flooded. You would be drowned if you went up now."
The Daffodil Baby had to lie down again. She tried to sleep, but she only grew more restless day by day. At last she begged the little Earth-worm to go up once more and see what the world was like. This time he came back smiling. "You may safely go up now," he said. "The snow and floods are all away, and the sunbeams are there. They are looking for you."
The Daffodil Baby jumped for joy. She sprang out of her blankets and began to push her way up as fast as she could, wrapping herself as she went in a warm, thick cloak of green. When she reached the top she felt the little sunbeams lay their warm hands on her, and she heard her tall leaf-brothers say to one another: "Here comes Baby." But she did not look out from her cloak, for she said to herself: "I must make my frock and grow bigger before I shall be ready to play with the sunbeams."
She worked away busily under her green cloak, and grew taller and taller every day. The little Earth-worm often came out to look at her, but all he could see was the green cloak. "Why don't you come out and see the world?" he would shout from his lowly place on the ground. She always answered: "Wait a little longer. I am making my frock."
At last, one beautiful spring morning, the frock was finished. "I am coming out now," cried the Daffodil Baby. The Earth-worm wriggled up to the top, and the sunbeams flew down to help. They tugged at the thick green cloak with their warm hands till it flew open. Out sprang the Daffodil Baby—a Daffodil Baby no longer, but grown into the loveliest little Daffodil Lady. Her frock was all yellow and frilled, and she wore the daintiest little green shoes. She was very beautiful. The Earth-worm heard everybody say that.
"What a glorious world!" cried the little yellow lady. "Now I am going to be very happy." And so she was. She played with the sunbeams, danced with the winds, and talked merrily to her green-leaf brothers. The bees and the moths came to see her every day; one warm day the first butterfly of the season came to visit her.
But with all her good times she did not grow proud. She was just as friendly with the Earth-worm, now when she stood so far above him, as she had been when under the ground. She often had long talks with him in the early mornings before the bees were awake. "Why don't you climb up here?" she asked him one day. "It is much nicer swaying in the wind, and I could talk to you so much more easily."
"I should grow giddy up there," answered the Earth-worm. "It is not the place for me at all. Besides, I shall be able to talk to you all through the long winter, when you are in your blankets again."
DAFFODILS
Oh the golden daffodils,That open in the spring,When gorse blooms out on all the hills,And birds begin to sing!
They nod their heads, their yellow heads,All down the garden walk;As if they wish to leave their beds,And run about, and talk.
Suppose they could! What jolly funTo see them run and play!Like golden children from the sun,Come down to spend the day.
WILLY WALLFLOWER
The sun shone gaily, for it was the middle of summer. The flowers in the garden made love to the bees and tossed their pretty heads at one another. Only Willy Wallflower stood green and straight, for his flowers had not yet come.
"Wake up, Willy Wallflower!" called the Roses. "It is time you showed us your flowers."
"Not yet," said Willy Wallflower. "They are not ready."
"How slow you are!" cried the White Lily. "If you do not hurry, the summer will be over and the bees gone. Then what will be the use of your flowers?"
"I cannot help it," said Willy. "I was planted late, and am now busy making my wood. I will bloom when my time comes."
The summer passed and the autumn came, but still Willy Wallflower had no flowers, though he grew taller and stouter every day. Then the cold winter came. The flowers shivered themselves away to nothing, the bees took to staying in the hive all day.
The snow and ice passed, and the keen spring winds began to blow. Now Willy Wallflower was ready to make his flowers. He wrapped the little buds in their warm round tunics and set them in clusters amongst their sheltering leaves. "Grow high and open out," he said.
Slowly they grew high, and at last one mild day they pushed aside their tunics and opened out. They were very beautiful; four red velvety petals spread widely out on each side; in the middle there were six pale yellow stamens and a fluffy double pistil-head. Below the fluffy head was the long, slender seed-case, where the tiny baby seedlings waited for the pollen grains that were to make them grow.
"Where is our pollen?" the babies cried eagerly.
"Be patient," said Willy Wallflower. "Soon the bees will bring it."
But the bees were long in coming. Day after day Willy Wallflower and the babies waited, listening anxiously for the busy wings that did not come. The honey-cups were filled with sweetest honey, the petals poured out their delicious scent into the surrounding air, but no bees appeared.
"Wait a little longer," said Willy Wallflower. "They will surely come soon."
In the hive the bees hung in a mass on their comb to keep warm. In the centre was the Queen; round her clung her people, row after row, all quiet and orderly, and doing their best to help one another. As the outer ones grew cold they passed into the centre; at meal-times the inside ones passed out the honey to the others. From mouth to mouth it was passed till it reached the other row, everybody waiting his turn and showing no greediness. Every now and again they beat their wings to keep warm, but otherwise they were still, as they had been all the winter.
One day a warm breath of air floated in through the door. "That feels like spring!" cried the bees. "Perhaps the flowers are waking." Scouts were sent out to see.
Soon they came back. "The crocuses and primroses are opening," they reported, "and Willy Wallflower is all in bloom waiting for us."
"Then let us go!" said the bees. They flew straight out to Willy Wallflower.
"At last! at last!" cried the wee green babies joyfully. The bees dipped deep into the sweet honey-cups, carrying the pollen from the stamens of one flower to the fluffy pistil-heads of others. Then the pollen grains ran down into the seed-cases and helped the babies to grow into seeds.
SWEET VIOLET
A little girl brought a violet plant and a pansy plant to her teacher.
"See!" said she. "These were given to me. May I grow them in school?"
"Certainly," said the teacher. "Here are two little pots. We will plant them both, and set them on the broad window-sill. You can water them each day, and we shall see how well they will grow."
"This is dreadful," said the Pansy to the Violet, as they stood side by side on the window-sill. "How shall we bear the dust and heat of this room after the fresh sweet air of the garden? I am sure I shall die."
"Oh! it is not quite so bad as that," said the Violet. "It certainly is not so pleasant as the garden, but when the window is opened one feels better."
"My leaves are covered with dust already. How is one to breathe?" grumbled the Pansy.
"So are mine," said the Violet; "but never mind. Don't think about it. Let us turn our attention to making our flowers."
"You don't mean to say that you think of making a flower here!" cried the Pansy. "What would be the use? You would never be able to make good seed, for no bee or butterfly will ever find its way in amongst these close buildings."
"One never knows what may happen," said the Violet; "and it is better to be busy than to mope."
She set to work to make her flower, and took just as much care over it as if she had been out in the garden. She covered the slender stalk and pointed sepals with soft white fur, and filled her seed-box with tiny green balls. Then she drew honey guides down her blue silk petals, made her pollen, and filled her quaint honey-bag with honey, just as if she expected a bee or a butterfly at any moment.
"You are wasting your time," said the Pansy, who was doing nothing.
"I am busy, and that keeps me happy," said the Violet. She scented her petals and set their brushes on them.
"My violet has a flower on it!" cried the little girl. "Oh, how sweet it smells!" She watched the sun shining through the blue petals as the flower hung over the pot, and her eyes shone with pleasure. All through the day she turned to look at the Violet as soon as each little task was done, and at night she told her mother what had happened.
"I shall not mind if no bee finds me now," said the Violet. "My flower has given so much happiness that I am content, even if I never make good seed." The Pansy had nothing to say.
A few days later a wonderful thing happened. A bee came buzzing in at the open window and flew straight to the Violet.
"Sweet Violet," he said, "I have found you at last. Your scent came out to me as I was passing, and I have sought for you in all the windows. Have you any honey for me?"
"Plenty!" cried the Violet joyfully. "Dip deep and take all I have, dear friend."
"Thank you," said the Bee. "I will give you some pollen from your cousins in return. They are blooming in a window-box in the next street."
He brushed tiny pollen grains off his head and gave them to the Violet.
"Thank you," said the Violet. "Please take some of mine back to my cousins." She laid some of hers on his head, and he flew off.
Filled with joy, the Violet set to work to make her little green balls into seeds.
"Well, if I had thought a bee really would come, I would have made a flower too," said the Pansy.