Part 3

The boy named Billy scrubbed with right good will. “It’s coming off,” he said. “Say, Somebody, please tell me why Easter doesn’t stand still, like Christmas and New Year’s Day. What makes it come in March one year, and likely as not in April the next? A day is a day, isn’t it? Then why do we never know when to look for it? Last year we gathered pussy willows, and this year it’s cold enough to skate.”

“It is puzzling until you understand about it,” said Somebody, as Billy came back with his hands as clean as could be expected. “Let’s talk about it. There seems to be no authentic record of the actual date of Christ’s death and burial and resurrection. We know that the Crucifixion was on Friday, and the Resurrection was on Sunday, but the date has never been accounted for, although Easter has been celebrated as a church festival since the early days of the Christian church.

“To settle all such disputes it was finally decided by the Council of Nicaea in 325 A. D. that the celebration of the festival commemorating the Resurrection should fall on the first Sunday after March 21st and the full moon.”

“And why was the festival called Easter?” asked the boy named Billy.

“It is a sort of made-over festival,” said Somebody. “The early Christians called it the Paschal festival, and it was so called until the Christian religion was introduced among the Saxons, who had a Spring festival themselves of which they were very fond, held in honor of their Spring goddess Eostre. They seemed inclined to like the new religion, but refused to give up their goddess, so the Christians decided to keep the festival and the name, but to use it in commemoration of the resurrection of Christ.”

“Who was this lady named Eostre?” asked the boy named Billy. “She must have been pretty important.”

“Eostre, meaning ‘from the East, or Venus, the goddess of beauty,’ was supposed to have been hatched by doves from an immense egg which descended from heaven and rested on the Euphrates. Out of it came the goddess of Spring and of beauty to bring warmth and sunshine into the world,” said Somebody.

“That must be where the idea of the Easter egg comes from,” said the boy named Billy. “I was wondering about that. It’s interesting; tell me some more.”

“There are many beautiful legends concerning Easter,” said Somebody. “One which was quite generally believed in Ireland was that on Easter morning the sun dances. But of course we take that with a grain of salt.”

“Just as we take our Easter eggs,” laughed the boy named Billy. “Thank you so much, Somebody; and now I’ll run and get some flowers for Mother. I’m going to get her a beautiful Easter lily.”

Trailing Arbutus or Mayflower

“See what I’ve got for Mom,” said the boy named Billy bursting into Somebody’s room one bright morning in the latter part of April. “May Flowers! Beauties! Found them away over in the pine woods just peeping out from under a snow bank.”

“Beauties indeed,” agreed Somebody, “I’m glad you cut them so carefully. Most children do not understand the importance of cutting wild flowers instead of tearing them up by the roots.”

“I ought to understand it unless I’m a _dunce_,” laughed Billy, “you and Mom tell me about it often enough. But why is it called Mayflower when it always comes in April? Of course I know its real name is Trailing Arbutus.”

“The Mayflower,” said Somebody, “is spring’s first messenger wherever it will grow, and its appearance is governed by the length of the winter, and not by the calendar. I’ve heard of it in the Rocky Mountains in August. It seems not to be able to live in very warm places, but loves to snuggle its blossom children under the snows of winter, who, when they awake push aside the blankets and creep out to tell the world that spring has come.

“And small as it is,” went on Somebody, “the dear little pink flower has made history for itself. It was the first flower to welcome the Pilgrim Fathers and Mothers to the new world and as spring, on the bleak coast of Massachusetts, is a late comer, it probably appeared in May, and was christened Mayflower by the pioneers who knew no other name for it. Anyway it was very welcome to those poor people who had come through so many hardships, with its glorious message that the long and cruel winter was over.”

“Was the boat named after the flower or the other way around?” asked the boy named Billy.

“I think it must have been that the flower was named after the boat,” answered Somebody, “as the Mayflower was the boat they came over in--a little sailing vessel of one hundred and eighty tons. Yet no other ship’s arrival has had such significance as that of this little vessel, which brought the Pilgrim Fathers to America in 1620. The sailing of the Mayflower meant a great deal to the future of mankind, because the Pilgrim Fathers formed the compact that established the government of the people, by the people, and for the people. It is well known that they loved the little posie, the first thing that welcomed them with a smile of hopefulness.”

“Why do we not try to cultivate it in our gardens?”

“It starves in gardens,” said Somebody, “very likely because its needs are not studied. Science has found that it has upon its roots a friendly fungus which nourishes it. And this friend refuses to live in the soil of the ordinary garden. Experiments have been made with soils, and seed from the Mayflower fruit has been planted and has made some progress, so I’ve heard.”

“I did not know that the flower _had_ a fruit,” said the boy named Billy.

“I have seen only a few,” said Somebody. “It is a small fruit which tastes not unlike a strawberry. Mrs. Ant knows all about it, and it is very likely due to her that you find the flower in places where it never has been found before.”

“So,” said the boy named Billy, “when one tries to provide a new home for Lady Trailing Arbutus, one must not only please her very dainty tastes but those of her friends.”

“You’ll never get very far with flowers or friends, Billy Boy,” said Somebody, “unless you study them very carefully and try with all your heart to understand them.”

Billy grinned. “What time do you look for Mayflower fruit?” said he.

“Along about wild strawberry time,” said Somebody.

About Pearls

“My,” said the boy named Billy. “I nearly broke my tooth on the bone of this oyster. Isn’t it funny? It’s as round as a shot and just as hard.”

Everybody laughed, but Somebody said, “That isn’t a bone, Billy; old Mr. Oyster has no bones. That’s a pearl. Too bad you didn’t find it before it was cooked, because then you might have had it set in a pin to wear in your scarf. Now that it has been cooked, it is worthless.”

“I’m in luck, anyhow,” said Billy, “because I didn’t break my tooth. But how did a pearl ever get inside an oyster?”

“It makes its home there,” said Somebody. “Lives snugly year after year inside Mr. Oyster’s shell and pays no rent at all.”

“Tell me about it,” demanded the boy named Billy. “I always supposed that pearls grew at the bottom of the sea.”

“So they do,” said Somebody, “about fifteen fathoms deep is where the pearl bearing oyster lives. He is rather particular about his home and selects a place where there is a swift current of water. There he and his family lie on the hard bed of the ocean and wait for the current to bring their food. Sometimes they prefer to attach themselves to an overhanging ledge, where they live closely huddled together. The ancient peoples had all sorts of beliefs and ideas about the origin of the pearl. One of the most poetical was that it was made from a drop of dew which the oyster came up to the top of the ocean to get. Another was that pearls were the tears of angels who wept over the sorrows of the world.”

“But what are they really?” asked the boy named Billy, his eyes big with interest.

“Science has discovered,” said Somebody, “that Mr. Oyster accidentally gets a grain of sand, or a small insect inside his shell, which becomes uncomfortable; but as the oyster has no way of opening his door and putting an unwelcome guest outside, it remains. Very likely the unwelcome guest hurts. So Mr. Oyster says, ‘All right, then stay if you want to. But you can’t go on hurting me if I know myself.’ And so he builds a wall of the stuff that the inside of his shell is made of between himself and the cause of the trouble. After about four years the oyster is likely to be caught by pearl fishers, the pearl found, and the shell used for inlaid work on boxes, knife handles and other things.

“The finest pearls are gathered in the East, the most valuable, worth tens of thousands of dollars, coming from the oysters of the Persian Gulf. The largest pearl fishery in America is that of lower California, from which come the largest and the finest black pearls on the market.

“Carl von Linné, the great Swedish naturalist and botanist, discovered that pearls could be grown by opening the shell of the oyster and slipping a small bead of lead or wax inside the shell and then putting the oyster back in his bed for three or four years. Acting upon that idea, the Chinese and Japanese people have established great pearl raising industries and turn out a large amount of pearls every year. They are very pretty, and of good color, but being flat on one side they cannot be made into necklaces. In several of our states the fresh water clams are pearl bearers; the Mississippi River industry being the one of most value. The shells are used for pearl buttons and the flesh of the mussels are fed to the pigs.”

“Makes you think of that verse in the Bible about casting your pearls before swine, doesn’t it?” laughed Billy.

About Mr. & Mrs. Pelican

“Said Pelican quite pleasantly, ‘Come little fish and play with me’; Said little fishie in a fright, ‘I’ve heard about your appetite,’”

read the boy named Billy from little Sister’s Bird Children book. “Wise little fishie wasn’t he youngster?” said he. “Why is a Pelican anyway--he isn’t good to be eaten and his feathers aren’t worth anything, and he doesn’t do anything except to eat fish in great quantities, at least that is all I’ve ever heard about.”

“Long ago,” said Somebody, “when the first expeditions went across the Colorado desert which had been, until the Colorado River cut it off, a part of the Gulf of California, some one remarked that if the desert could be watered it could be made to raise food enough for a nation. There was the Colorado River going to waste, of course, but how to harness it up and make it provide water for the desert which it had made was a question which no one could answer.

“But along in 1904 it was decided to make the attempt to turn a part of the river back into its old bed and make it work. The river wasn’t quite ready to go back and when she did she meant to go in her own sweet way--but if they wanted her to back into that old bed, why back she would go--and, taking things in her own mighty hands, back she did go with a rush. There was that old Salton Sea Sink--she would first fill that up, and from there it would be easy to give the people all the water they wanted on the desert.

“This was serious! There was a railroad in her track--but what did that matter--people wanted water and water she would give them. It was a Nation’s work to stop that runaway river, but at last it was done, and lo and behold--there was that lovely little sea shining like a jewel in the middle of the desert. They eventually made the Colorado give them water enough besides to water the desert which is now called the Imperial Valley where rice and fruit and cotton and many other things are raised.”

“That is interesting,” said the boy named Billy. “But where does Mr. Pelican fit in?”

“Right here,” said Somebody. “For along about this time very probably along came Mr. and Mrs. Brown Pelican looking for a home. And here was a lovely sea with lots of dear little islands in it just big enough for two. But after they had started their nest they discovered that their private sea had no fish in it. Very probably Brown Pelican said they would move back to the coast, but that Mrs. Pelican wouldn’t listen to him but said, ‘Here we have a whole ocean all to ourselves; let’s raise our own fish--we’ll go right now and bring back our pockets full of mullets and plant them.’ So they did with the result that the Salton Sea is now one of the most important fisheries in the state of California.”

“That’s _some_ story,” said the boy named Billy. “But is it a _Really So_ one?”

“According to scientists it is,” said Somebody. “The Pelican has long been known to be the best friend of the game warden, which is why he is protected. He is supposed to carry fish to inland streams and ponds which otherwise would not have them.”

“Well, he should advertise,” said the boy named Billy, “nobody knows how useful he is.”

“Perhaps he is too modest,” said Somebody.

Indian Day

“Tomorrow is Indian Day,” said the boy named Billy, “and there isn’t going to be any school; we’re all going out to see their games and get acquainted; anybody seen my scout suit? It isn’t in my closet.”

“It has gone to the cleaner’s,” said Mother. “I knew you’d want it tomorrow and so I sent it out; it will be back this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Mom,” said Billy, “you always do think of everything. Why are the Indians called Indian? Did they name themselves that the way other people do?”

“No,” said Somebody. “That was the name Columbus gave to the natives when he reached the islands and mainland of our country under the impression that he had arrived at the coast of Asia, which he had set out to find.”

“How did those people ever come to be here?”

“It is supposed,” said Somebody, “that they had crossed from Asia to Alaska, and were cut off in some way from returning and so drifted inland and started colonies which prospered until it spread across the whole continent. Some may have come from China, and there is even a tradition that some were from the lost tribes of Israel, but no one really knows. All we know is that if they were not really natives of this land that they must have come from somewhere and that they had degenerated into savages or had never been lifted above it.

“But take it all in all they were pretty good savages until they were aroused by the whites; they had laws of their own, and a religion, and real languages distinguishing the different tribes; they had kings and principalities, and the Great Spirit was very real to them. To the Indian everything in Nature had a real personality and was inhabited by a spirit either good or bad.

“They believed in monsters, and fairies and witches. The women were the only ones who could declare war, and when prisoners were brought in they had the right to adopt them into the tribe, or if they did not like them to send them to death.”

“Sweet and gentle ladies, weren’t they?” said the boy named Billy. “I’m glad that they’re just folks nowadays.”

“I’m glad also,” said Somebody, “and this move to have a day set aside for the purpose of getting better acquainted is a move in the right direction.”

“I wonder who thought of doing that,” asked the boy named Billy.

“The idea of having a day set apart for the celebration of the deeds of the red race belongs to Mr. A. C. Parker, State Archaeologist of New York, who launched it at the National Conference at Denver; but no date being set at that time it was later taken up at the Lawrence Kansas conference, when President Coolidge of the Society of American Indians moved to have May 13th appointed as Indian Day, which was done. The different states, in addition to this, have nearly all set apart days of their own as Indian days. That of Illinois being September 4th.”

“We folks in America do get around to doing our duty in time, if you give us time enough,” said the boy named Billy.

“It was high time in this case,” said Somebody.

“Sure was,” said Billy. “I’m going to get acquainted with some Indian about my own age and get some pointers about how to use that bow and arrow Uncle Ned brought me from out west!”

About Hats

“In that direction,” the cat said, waving his right paw, “lives the hatter. And in that direction,” waving the other paw around, “lives a March hare. Visit either you like--they’re both mad!”

The boy named Billy was reading aloud from Alice in Wonderland, and when he had finished this sentence he looked up, keeping his place with his finger shut in the book, and said, “I know what a March hare would be; it would mean any old hare in the month of March, very likely, but what’s a hatter? Is it a real animal, or a madeup creature, like the Unicorn or the Dodo Bird, or is it just a man who sells hats, as a grocer does groceries?”

“You’ve come very close to the real meaning of it,” said Somebody, “for a hatter, as I see it, is one who makes hats.”

“Why, of course,” said the boy named Billy, “if I’d taken time to think a little about it I’d have known. When did people begin to wear hats, anyway, and what made them do it? They’re a great bother--always blowing off when one is out-of-doors and having to be hung up when one is indoors--they’re no good except to keep one’s head warm and hair would do that if we gave it a chance.”

“Up to a certain point, Billy,” laughed Somebody, “if hair would only stay on as well as hats do even, I’m sure everybody would agree with you, but hair does not stay put in a good many cases, and hats are far better and much less trouble than it would be to wear wigs. No, I think the hat is a very useful invention.

“In fact, it is said that the earliest form of hat was a sort of hood which was tied on over the head to keep the hair from blowing ‘every which way,’ as it was common for both men and women to wear the hair long and to allow it to hang loosely.”

“When did the kind of hats that we wear begin to be stylish?”

“About the time men began to cut their hair short, I suppose,” said Somebody. “The chimney-pot hat, from which all the other shapes grew, is only a little more than a hundred years old.”

“What are hats made of?” asked Billy. “I don’t mean ladies’ hats, of course, they are made of everything, but the kind we men wear.”

Somebody smiled. “The kind you men wear are made of various things. The very fine ones are made from Beaver fur and Coney fur, and Molly Cotton Tail furnishes material for a great many with her long hair which is chopped very fine, and some are made entirely of wool. The braid for the straw hats comes almost entirely from Italy, China and Japan, but is sewed and blocked in this country.”

“Do we make many hats here?” asked Billy.

“Yes, indeed,” said Somebody, “making hats was one of our earliest and most profitable industries. In 1675 laws were passed prohibiting the sale of Raccoon fur outside the provinces, because they were so valuable to the hatters, and it has grown into one of our greatest industries.”

“Well,” said the boy named Billy, “I know now what a hatter is, but I still do not know what he was mad _about_?”

“That was just a figure of speech,” said Somebody, “meaning that he was not quite right in his head!”

“Oh!” said the boy named Billy, going on with the story.

Mother’s Day

“I wish Somebody would help me with this greeting for Mother’s Day,” said the boy named Billy. “I can’t think of anything; and we get marked on it in school, too.”

“Upon whose work do you usually get marks?” asked Big Sister.

“Why, my own, of course,” flashed Billy, “but this is different.”

“It will be easy,” said Somebody, “if you will just think about Mother and write what you would like to say to her.”

“Mom’s the best thing in the world,” said Billy, “but these are to be read aloud and the other fellows would call me sissy!”

“When President Garfield was inaugurated,” said Somebody quietly, “the very first thing he did after taking the oath of office was to kiss his mother.”

“With everybody looking on?” asked Billy.

“Yes, with everybody looking on,” said Somebody. “That was his big and splendid way of telling everybody just what he thought of his mother and of thanking her for all the things she had done for him.”

“Being his mother was enough,” said the boy named Billy, “what more did she do for him?”

“His father died when he was just three years old,” said Somebody, “leaving his mother nothing in the world except a stony farm in the wilderness. She had to work the farm with the help of her eldest son, who was fourteen years old, and also do all the work of the house. Indeed, there was one summer when she lived on one scanty meal a day so that the children might have enough. This made a great impression on James, who resolved that when he grew up he would take great care of her.

“Washington said he owed his success in life to his mother, who gave him his strict sense of honesty and fairness.

“Napoleon said of his mother, ‘She watched over us with devotion, and allowed nothing but what was good and elevating to take root in our understanding.’

“Abraham Lincoln’s mother died when Abraham was ten years old, but she had taught him all she knew of reading, writing, and arithmetic, and also to take pains with everything he did, and to love God and fear no man.

“Although Lincoln never forgot his own dear mother, it was to his father’s second wife that he often said he owed his success, as she almost moved heaven and earth to give him an education.”

“Have we always had Mother’s Day?” asked Billy.

“No, indeed,” said Somebody. “It’s quite recent. Miss Anna Jarvis of Philadelphia, who lost her own dear mother in 1906, presented the world with the idea of setting aside a day for the honoring and remembering of all mothers. The world was ready for the idea, and gladly took it up, and so we have this beautiful custom, which is yearly growing stronger, of remembering our mothers in some special way, sending a flower or a greeting, and wearing a white carnation to show our love and devotion to our own particular mother.”

“Well,” said the boy named Billy, “Mom’s the best thing in the world any way.”

“Then say so,” said Somebody, “right out in meeting.”

“I will!” said Billy.

About Forks

“Why so sad and solemncholy?” asked Somebody of the boy named Billy.

“Mother sent me away from the table ’cause I took my pie up in my fingers,” said Billy. “Grandfather said that fingers were made before forks, but Mother said perhaps they were, but that didn’t excuse me for forgetting my table manners. Who made forks, anyhow? I _wish_ they _hadn’t_.”

“Well, Son,” said Somebody, “had you been born before the year 1600 it would have been quite correct for you to have eaten your meat from your fingers. But it was terribly messy and there had to be a servant called a ewer-bearer whose duty it was to pass around a basin of water and a napkin with which to wash away the stains of the food. But at last some bright Italian person hit upon the idea of copying the large meat forks with which the roast was handled, and making them small enough to be used individually. Visitors to Italy were much interested in the fork.

“Many people thought it a useless invention and it was the middle of the 17th century before the people of England consented to use it. Queen Elizabeth was the first lady in England to own a fork, and hers could not have been much good as a table implement, as it was made of crystal, inlaid with gold and set with sparks of garnets.

“The first forks were very small and narrow, with two prongs, but after people got used to the idea they were made larger. Silver knives and forks were first used in England in 1814 and could only be afforded by the very wealthy.”

“That’s interesting,” said the boy named Billy. “I’m glad I didn’t have to learn to eat peas with those funny little two-tined forks. I guess I’ll go and beg mother’s pardon.”

About Silk