Part 6

“Let those discontented Asters try it,” they said. “No one will vote for that foolish Violet, and things will go on as they always have done; so, dear friends, don’t be troubled, but help us elect our handsome cousin who was born in the palace this year.”

In the middle of the meadow stood a beautiful maple, and at its foot lay a large rock overgrown by a wild grapevine. All kinds of flowers sprang up here; and this autumn a tall spray of Golden-rod and a lovely violet Aster grew almost side by side, with only a screen of ferns between them. This was called the palace; and seeing their cousin there made the Asters feel that their turn had come, and many of the other flowers agreed with them that a change of rulers ought to be made for the good of the kingdom.

So when the day came to choose, there was great excitement as the wind went about collecting the votes. The Golden-rods, Cardinals, Gentians, Clematis, and Bitter-sweet voted for the Prince, as they called the handsome fellow by the rock. All the Asters, Buttercups, Clovers, and Pitcher-plants voted for Violet; and to the surprise of the meadow the Maple dropped a leaf, and the Rock gave a bit of lichen for her also. They seldom took part in the affairs of the flower people,--the tree living so high above them, busy with its own music, and the rock being so old that it seemed lost in meditation most of the time; but they liked the idea of a queen (for one was a poet, the other a philosopher), and both believed in gentle Violet.

Their votes won the day, and with loud rejoicing by her friends she was proclaimed queen of the meadow and welcomed to her throne.

“We will never go to Court or notice her in any way,” cried the haughty Cardinals, red with anger.

“Nor we! Dreadful, unfeminine creature! Let us turn our backs and be grateful that the brook flows between us,” added the Gentians, shaking their fringes as if the mere idea soiled them.

Clematis hid her face among the vine leaves, feeling that the palace was no longer a fit home for a delicate, high-born flower like herself. All the Golden-rods raged at this dreadful disappointment, and said many untrue and disrespectful things of Violet. The Prince tossed his yellow head behind the screen, and laughed as if he did not mind, saying carelessly:

“Let her try; she never can do it, and will soon be glad to give up and let me take my proper place.”

So the meadow was divided: one half turned its back on the new queen; the other half loved, admired, and believed in her; and all waited to see how the experiment would succeed. The wise Asters helped her with advice; the Pitcher-plant refreshed her with the history of the brave Puritans who loved liberty and justice, and suffered to win them; the honest Clovers sweetened life with their sincere friendship, and the cheerful Buttercups brightened her days with kindly words and deeds. But her best help came from the rock and the tree,--for when she needed strength she leaned her delicate head against the rough breast of the rock, and courage seemed to come to her from the wise old stone that had borne the storms of a hundred years; when her heart was heavy with care or wounded by unkindness, she looked up to the beautiful tree, always full of soft music, always pointing heavenward, and was comforted by these glimpses of a world above her.

The first thing she did was to banish the evil snakes from her kingdom; for they lured the innocent birds to death, and filled many a happy nest with grief.

The next task was to stop the red and black ants from constantly fighting; for they were always at war, to the great dismay of more peaceful insects. She bade each tribe keep in its own country, and if any dispute came up, to bring it to her, and she would decide it fairly. This was a hard task; for the ants loved to fight, and would go on struggling after their bodies were separated from their heads, so fierce were they. But she made them friends at last, and every one was glad.

Another reform was to purify the news that came to the meadow. The wind was telegraph-messenger; but the birds were reporters, and some of them very bad ones. The larks brought tidings from the clouds, and were always welcome; the thrushes from the wood, and all loved to hear their pretty romances; the robins had domestic news, and the lively wrens bits of gossip and witty jokes to relate. But the magpies made such mischief with their ill-natured tattle and evil tales, and the crows criticised and condemned every one who did not believe and do just as they did; so the magpies were forbidden to go gossiping about the meadow, and the gloomy black crows were ordered off the fence where they liked to sit cawing dismally for hours at a time.

Every one felt safe and comfortable when this was done, except the Cardinals, who liked to hear their splendid dresses and fine feasts talked about, and the Golden-rods, who were so used to living in public that they missed the excitement, as well as the scandal of the magpies and the political and religious arguments and quarrels of the crows.

A hospital for sick and homeless creatures was opened under the big burdock leaves; and there several belated butterflies were tucked up in their silken hammocks to sleep till spring, a sad lady-bug, who had lost all her children, found comfort in her loneliness, and many crippled ants sat talking over their battles, like old soldiers, in the sunshine.

It took a long time to do all this, and it was a hard task, for the rich and powerful flowers gave no help. But the Asters worked bravely, so did the Clovers and Buttercups and the Pitcher-plant kept open house with the old-fashioned hospitality one so seldom sees nowadays. Everything seemed to prosper, and the meadow grew more beautiful day by day. Safe from their enemies, the snakes, birds came to build in all the trees and bushes, singing their gratitude so sweetly that there was always music in the air. Sunshine and shower seemed to love to freshen the thirsty flowers and keep the grass green, till every plant grew strong and fair, and passers-by stopped to look, saying with a smile:--

“What a pretty little spot this is!”

The wind carried tidings of these things to other colonies, and brought back messages of praise and good-will from other rulers, glad to know the experiment worked so well.

This made a deep impression on the Golden-rods and their friends, for they could not deny that Violet had succeeded better than any one dared to hope; and the proud flowers began to see that they would have to give in, own they were wrong, and become loyal subjects of this wise and gentle queen.

“We shall have to go to Court if ambassadors keep coming with such gifts and honours to Her Majesty; for they wonder not to see us there, and will tell that we are sulking at home instead of shining as _we_ only can,” said the Cardinals, longing to display their red velvet robes at the feasts which Violet was obliged to give in the palace when kings came to visit her.

“Our time will soon be over, and I’m afraid we must humble ourselves or lose all the gaiety of the season. It is hard to see the good old ways changed; but if they must be, we can only gracefully submit,” answered the Gentians, smoothing their delicate blue fringes, eager to be again the belles of the ball.

Clematis astonished every one by suddenly beginning to climb the maple-tree and shake her silvery tassels like a canopy over the Queen’s head.

“I cannot live so near her and not begin to grow. Since I must cling to something, I choose the noblest I can find, and look up, not down, forevermore,” she said; for like many weak and timid creatures, she was easily guided, and it was well for her that Violet’s example had been a brave one.

Prince Golden-rod had found it impossible to turn his back entirely upon Her Majesty, for he was a gentleman with a really noble heart under his yellow cloak; so he was among the first to see, admire, and love the modest, faithful flower who grew so near him. He could not help hearing her words of comfort or reproof to those who came to her for advice. He saw the daily acts of charity which no one else discovered; he knew how many trials came to her, and how bravely she bore them.

“She had done more than ever we did to make the kingdom beautiful and safe and happy, and I’ll be the first to own it, to thank her and offer my allegiance,” he said to himself, and waited for a chance.

One night when the September moon was shining over the meadow, and the air was balmy with the last breath of summer, the Prince ventured to serenade the Queen on his wind-harp. He knew she was awake; for he had peeped through the ferns and seen her looking at the stars with her violet eyes full of dew, as if something troubled her. So he sang his sweetest song, and Her Majesty leaned nearer to hear it; for she much longed to be friends with the gallant Prince, because both were born in the palace and grew up together very happily till coronation time came.

As he ended she sighed, wondering how long it would be before he told her what she knew was in his heart.

Golden-rod heard the soft sigh, and forgetting his pride, he pushed away the screen, and whispered, while his face shone and his voice showed how much he felt.

“What troubles you, sweet neighbour? Forget and forgive my unkindness, and let me help you if I can,--I dare not say as Prince Consort, though I love you dearly; but as a friend and faithful subject, for I confess that you are fitter to rule than I.”

As he spoke the leaves that hid Violet’s golden heart opened wide and let him see how glad she was, as she bent her stately head and answered softly.

“There is room upon the throne for two: share it with me as King, and let us rule together.”

What the Prince answered only the moon knows; but when morning came all the meadow was surprised and rejoiced to see the gold and purple flowers standing side by side, while the maple showered its rosy leaves over them, and the old rock waved his crown of vine-leaves as he said:

“This is as it should be; love and strength going hand in hand, and justice making the earth glad.”

The lands are lit With all the autumn blaze of golden-rod, And everywhere the purple asters nod And bend and wave and flit. HELEN HUNT JACKSON.

THE WEEDS

CARL EWALD

It was a beautiful, fruitful season. Rain and sunshine came by turns just as it was best for the corn. As soon as ever the farmer began to think that things were rather dry, you might depend upon it that next day it would rain. And when he thought that he had had rain enough, the clouds broke at once, just as if they were under his command.

So the farmer was in good humour, and he did not grumble as he usually does. He looked pleased and cheerful as he walked over the field with his two boys.

“It will be a splendid harvest this year,” he said. “I shall have my barns full, and shall make a pretty penny. And then Jack and Will shall have some new trousers, and I’ll let them come with me to market.”

“If you don’t cut me soon, farmer, I shall sprawl on the ground,” said the rye, and she bowed her heavy ear quite down towards the earth.

The farmer could not hear her talking, but he could see what was in her mind, and so he went home to fetch his scythe.

“It is a good thing to be in the service of man,” said the rye. “I can be quite sure that all my grain will be cared for. Most of it will go to the mill: not that that proceeding is so very enjoyable, but it will be made into beautiful new bread, and one must put up with something for the sake of honour. The rest the farmer will save, and sow next year in his field.”

At the side of the field, along the hedge, and the bank above the ditch, stood the weeds. There were dense clumps of them--thistle and burdock, poppy and harebell, and dandelion; and all their heads were full of seed. It had been a fruitful year for them also, for the sun shines and the rain falls just as much on the poor weed as on the rich corn.

“No one comes and mows _us_ down and carries us to a barn,” said the dandelion, and he shook his head, but very cautiously, so that the seeds should not fall before their time. “But what will become of all our children?”

“It gives me a headache to think of it,” said the poppy. “Here I stand with hundreds and hundreds of seeds in my head, and I haven’t the faintest idea where I shall drop them.”

“Let us ask the rye to advise us,” answered the burdock.

And so they asked the rye what they should do.

“When one is well off, one had better not meddle with other people’s business,” answered the rye. “I will give you only one piece of advice: take care you don’t throw your stupid seed on to the field, for then you will have to settle accounts with _me_.”

This advice did not help the wild flowers at all, and the whole day they stood pondering what they should do. When the sun set they shut up their petals and went to sleep; but the whole night through they were dreaming about their seed, and next morning they had found a plan.

The poppy was the first to wake. She cautiously opened some little trap-doors at the top of her head, so that the sun could shine right in on the seeds. Then she called to the morning breeze, who was running and playing along the hedge.

“Little breeze,” she said, in friendly tones, “will you do me a service?”

“Yes, indeed,” said the breeze. “I shall be glad to have something to do.”

“It is the merest trifle,” said the poppy. “All I want of you is to give a good shake to my stalk, so that my seeds may fly out of the trap-doors.”

“All right,” said the breeze.

And the seeds flew out in all directions. The stalk snapped, it is true; but the poppy did not mind about that.

“Good-bye,” said the breeze, and would have run on farther.

“Wait a moment,” said the poppy. “Promise me first that you will not tell the others, else they might get hold of the same idea, and then there would be less room for my seeds.”

“I am mute as the grave,” answered the breeze, running off.

“Ho! ho!” said the harebell. “Haven’t you time to do me a little, tiny service?”

“Well,” said the breeze, “what is it?”

“I merely wanted to ask you to give me a little shake,” said the harebell. “I have opened some trap-doors in my head, and I should like to have my seed sent a good way off into the world. But you mustn’t tell the others, or else they might think of doing the same thing.”

“Oh! of course not,” said the breeze, laughing. “I shall be as dumb as a stone wall.” And then she gave the flower a good shake and went on her way.

“Little breeze, little breeze,” called the dandelion, “whither away so fast?”

“Is there something the matter with you too?” asked the breeze.

“Nothing at all,” answered the dandelion. “Only I should like a few words with you.”

“Be quick then,” said the breeze, “for I am thinking seriously of lying down and having a rest.”

“You cannot help seeing,” said the dandelion, “what trouble we are in this year to get all our seeds put out in the world; for, of course, one wishes to do what one can for one’s children. What is to happen to the harebell and the poppy and the poor burdock I really don’t know. But the thistle and I have put our heads together, and we have hit on a plan. Only we must have you to help us.”

“That makes _four_ of them,” thought the breeze, and she could not help laughing out loud.

“What are you laughing at?” asked the dandelion. “I saw you whispering just now to the harebell and poppy; but if you breathe a word to them, I won’t tell you anything.”

“Why, of course not,” said the breeze. “I am mute as a fish. What is it you want?”

“We have set up a pretty little umbrella on the top of our seeds. It is the sweetest little plaything imaginable. If you will only blow a little on me, the seeds will fly into the air and fall down wherever you please. Will you do so?”

“Certainly,” said the breeze.

And hush! it went over the thistle and the dandelion and carried all the seeds with it into the cornfield.

The burdock still stood and pondered. Its head was rather thick, and that was why it waited so long. But in the evening a hare leapt over the hedge.

“Hide me! Save me!” he cried. “The farmer’s dog Trusty is after me.”

“You can creep behind the hedge,” said the burdock, “then I will hide you.”

“You don’t look able to do that,” said the hare, “but in time of need one must help oneself as one can.” And so he got in safely behind the hedge.

“Now you may repay me by taking some of my seeds with you over into the cornfield,” said the burdock; and it broke off some of its many heads and fixed them on the hare.

A little later Trusty came trotting up to the hedge.

“Here’s the dog,” whispered the burdock, and with one spring the hare leapt over the hedge and into the rye.

“Haven’t you seen the hare, burdock?” asked Trusty. “I see I have grown too old to go hunting. I am quite blind in one eye, and I have completely lost my scent.”

“Yes, I have seen him,” answered the burdock; “and if you will do me a service, I will show you where he is.”

Trusty agreed, and the burdock fastened some heads on his back, and said to him:

“If you will only rub yourself against the stile there in the cornfield, my seeds will fall off. But you must not look for the hare there, for a little while ago I saw him run into the wood.” Trusty dropped the burrs on the field and trotted to the wood.

“Well, I’ve sent my seeds out in the world all right,” said the burdock, laughing as if much pleased with itself; “but it is impossible to say what will become of the thistle and the dandelion and the harebell and the poppy.”

Spring had come round once more, and the rye stood high already.

“We are pretty well off on the whole,” said the rye plants. “Here we stand in a great company, and not one of us but belongs to our own noble family. And we don’t get in each other’s way in the very least. It is a grand thing to be in the service of man.”

But one fine day a crowd of little poppies, and thistles and dandelions, and burdocks and harebells poked up their heads above ground, all amongst the flourishing rye.

“What does _this_ mean?” asked the rye. “Where in the world are _you_ sprung from?”

And the poppy looked at the harebell and asked: “Where did _you_ come from?”

And the thistle looked at the burdock and asked: “Where in the world have _you_ come from?”

They were all equally astonished, and it was an hour before they had explained. But the rye was the angriest, and when she had heard all about Trusty and the hare and the breeze she grew quite wild.

“Don’t be in such a passion, you green rye,” said the breeze, who had been lying behind the hedge and hearing everything. “I ask no one’s permission, but do as I like; and now I’m going to make you bow to me.”

Then she passed over the young rye, and the thin blades swayed backwards and forwards.

“You see,” she said, “the farmer attends to his rye, because that is _his_ business. But the rain and the sun and I--we attend to all of you without respect of persons. To our eyes the poor weed is just as pretty as the rich corn.”

(Abridged.)

AUTUMN FIRES

In the other gardens And all up the vale From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail!

Pleasant summer over And all the summer flowers; The red fire blazes, The gray smoke towers.

Sing a song of seasons! Something bright in all! Flowers in the summer! Fires in the fall! ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

AMONG THE TREES

TO AN AUTUMN LEAF

Wee shallop of shimmering gold! Slip down from your ways in the branches Some fairy will loosen your hold---- Wee shallop of shimmering gold. Spill dew on your bows and unfold Silk sails for the fairest of launches! Wee shallop of shimmering gold; Slip down from your ways in the branches.

WHY THE AUTUMN LEAVES ARE RED

EMELYN NEWCOMB PARTRIDGE

Long, long ago no one but animals lived upon the earth and sometimes they would hold great Councils. The Bear would be there,--the Bear, with his sharp claws, and his shiny coat, and his big, big growl; and the Deer, who was so proud of his antlers, for they came out of his head like trees; and all the animals, and all the birds would be present at the great Council. Little Turtle would go there, too. She was so small that she did not like to speak to anyone. But, she often wished:

“Oh, if _only_ I could do some good deed! What _could_ such a little creature as I do? Anyway,” she thought, “I’ll be on the watch,--and it may be that some time there will be a chance for me to do _something_ for my people.”

Little Turtle never forgot about that good deed she had planned to perform. One day the opportunity came to her. She was at the Council, and the animals were saying:

“It is so dark here, we have only the Snowlight to see by. It is gloomy, too. Couldn’t we make a light and place it up in Skyland?” they asked.

Little Turtle said: “Please let me go up to Skyland? I am sure that I can make a light shine up there.”

They said that she might go, and they called Dark Cloud to carry Little Turtle there. Dark Cloud came.

Little Turtle saw that Thunder and Lightning were in Dark Cloud; and when she reached Skyland, she made the Sun from Lightning, and placed him in the Sky.

The Sun could not move, because he had no life, and all the world underneath was too hot to live upon.

“What shall we do?” the animals asked one another. Someone said:

“We must give the Sun life and spirit, and then he will move about in the sky.”

So they gave him life and spirit, and he moved about in the sky. Mud Turtle dug a hole through the earth for the Sun to travel through. Little Turtle made a wife for him out of some of the Lightning from Dark Cloud. She was the Moon. Their little children were the stars that played all over Skyland.

All this time, Little Turtle was taking care of Skyland. The animals below called her, She Who Takes Care of Skyland. And she was very happy, because she was doing her _good deed_.

Some of the animals became jealous of Little Turtle,--especially the Deer, who was so proud of his antlers. One day, Deer said to Rainbow:

“Rainbow, please take me up to Skyland where Little Turtle lives.”

Rainbow did not know whether it would be quite right to take Deer up to Little Turtle’s house, but he said:

“In the winter, when I rest upon the big mountain by the lake, then I will take you.”

This made the Deer glad. He did not tell anyone about the promise of Rainbow. All winter long, he waited and watched near the big mountain for Rainbow to come; but Rainbow did not come to him. In the spring, one day, Deer saw Rainbow beside the lake.

“Rainbow,” he asked, “why did you not keep your promise to me?” Rainbow made him another promise.

“Come to me by the lake, when you see me in the thick fog,” he said.

The Deer kept this promise a secret, too; because he hoped to go to Skyland alone. Day after day, he waited beside the lake. One day, when the thick fog was rising from the lake,--Deer saw the beautiful Rainbow.

Rainbow made an arch from the lake to the big mountain. Then a shining light fell about the Deer, and he saw a straight path shining with all the colours of the Rainbow. It led through a great forest.

“Follow the beautiful path through the great forest,” Rainbow said.

The Deer entered the shining pathway, and it led him straight to the house of Little Turtle in Skyland. And the Deer went about Skyland everywhere.

When the great Council met, Deer was not there. “The Deer is not come to the Council, where is the Deer?” they asked.

Hawk flew about the air everywhere, and could not find Deer in the air. Wolf searched the deep woods, and could not find Deer in the forests.

When Dark Cloud brought Little Turtle to the Council, Little Turtle told them how Rainbow had made a path for Deer to climb to Skyland. “There it is now,” said Little Turtle.