The Stories Mother Nature Told Her Children — John Shaqi
The Stories Mother Nature Told Her ChildrenAndrews, Jane
History
The Stories Mother Nature Told Her Children
Andrews, Jane
Natural history -- Juvenile literature
Yes, the linden is full of sweetness, and sends out the fragrance from
his blossoms in through the chamber windows, and down upon the people
who pass in the street below. And he tells all the time his story of how
his pink-covered leaf-buds opened in the spring mornings, and unfolded
the fresh green leaves, which were so tender and full of green juices
that it was no wonder the mother-moth had thought the branches a good
place whereon to lay her eggs; for as soon as they should be all laid,
she would die, and there would be no one to provide food for her babies
when they should creep out.
"So the nice mother-moth made a toilsome journey up my great trunk,"
sung the linden, "and left her eggs where she knew the freshest green
leaves would be coming out by the time the young ones should leave the
eggs.
"And they came out indeed, somewhat to my sorrow; for instead of being,
like their mother, sober, well-behaved little moths, they were green
canker-worms, and such hungry little things, that I really began to fear
I should have not a whole leaf left upon me; when one day they spun for
themselves fine silken ropes, and swung themselves down from leaf to
leaf, and from branch to branch, and in a day or two were all gone.
"A little flaxen-haired girl sat on the broad doorstep at my feet, and
caught the canker-worms in her white apron. She liked to see them hump
up their backs, and measure off the inches of her white checked apron
with their little green bodies. And I, although I liked them well enough
at first, was not sorry to lose them when they went. I heard the child's
mother telling her that they had come down to make for themselves beds
in the earth, where they would sleep until the early spring, and wake to
find themselves grown into moths just like their mothers, who climbed up
the tree to lay eggs. We shall see when next spring comes if that is so.
Now, since they went, I have done my best to refresh my leaves, and keep
young and happy; and here are my sweet blossoms to prove that I have yet
within me vigorous life."
The elm-tree heard what the linden sung, and said, "Very true, very
true. I, too, have suffered from the canker-worms; but I have yet leaves
enough left for a beautiful shade, and the poor crawling things must
surely eat something." And the elm bowed gracefully to the linden, out
of sympathy for him.
But the linden has heard the voices of the young robins who live in the
nest among his highest boughs; and he must yet tell to the horse-
chestnut how sad it was the other day in the thunder-storm, when the
wind upset the nest, and one little bird was thrown out and killed;
while the father and mother flew about in the greatest distress, until
Charley came, climbed the tree, and fitted the nest safely back into its
place.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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