Back Aa

Emerald Story Book

<h3>JOLLY LITTLE TARS</h3> Agnes McClellan Daulton “Tur-r-r-r-t, tre-t-t,” trilled a tree-toad who was perched one June day, on a log at the water’s edge. “This is a perfect day for us Water-folk. Surely there never was such blue in the sky, such green in the grass, nor such dimpling cloud shadows skipping about everywhere. It is the very day to sit down and dream.” “We think it just the day for a race,” cried a whirligig beetle who was whizzing past. “Come on, Whirligigs! let us see who will win this time.” And away they went with a dash, flash, and spin, a long curve here, a quick turn there, faster and faster. “My, my!” said the tree-toad, half closing his eyes. “It seems to me every day is the day for a race with those Whirligigs. I never saw one of them meditating in my life. It makes me dizzy and gives me a headache to[258] watch them spinning. It is a wonder they don’t dash themselves to pieces.” “Not they,” yawned a little snapping-turtle, who had been drowsing on a stone near by. “If you look close at a Whirligig, you will see that he is nearly as well protected as I am in my strong shell. How you exist with that soft body of yours is more than I can understand. You are a peaceable sort of fellow, but your best friend must admit that you are very ugly.” “No such thing,” sputtered the tree-toad, leaning far out to look at his reflection in the water. “I’m nothing of the sort. My mother says that I was the handsomest polliwog in the family. You are forced to wear one dress always, and that a dull old shell, while I change the colour of my clothes to suit the occasion, as all well-bred persons should. This morning I am wearing a full suit of grey-brown; that is because it matches so perfectly this lichen-covered log upon which I am seated. When I go swimming, my bathing suit is ashen grey, with green trimmings.[259] If I were to visit the swamp maples I should don plain brown, and if I should take a hop in the grass I should wear a beautiful dress suit of green. I am Mr. Hyla Versicolour, I’d have you know. See how rough and warty my back is; that is a sign of good family among toads. Watch me puff out my throat like a great white bubble as I whistle my tur-r-r-r-t, tre-t-t! Besides having a winning voice and power to change my colour I can breathe through my skin. I have a remarkable foot, also. Look at this delicate webbing, and these cunning little disks at the ends of my toes. I can climb as well as swim, Mr. Snapper. See me dart out my tongue; it is fastened in front and free at the back, so that I may catch a fly in a flash. “Ugly fellow, indeed!” Mr. Hyla puffed out his throat as far as he could. “Fiddlesticks!” snapped the turtle, slipping into the pool with a splash. “You are a worse boaster than a water-boatman. Talk to yourself, please,” and away he swam. “That Snapper always was a disagreeable[260] fellow,” mused Hyla, with his eyes half shut. “There come those Whirligigs back. I wonder which one beat.” “Pooh, how could a Whirligig beat?” scornfully asked a water-strider who had overheard the tree-toad. “They swim in circles, the foolish things.” “That’s all you know about Whirligig racing,” cried the largest whirligig, who was swimming near. “We all win every race. But of course you can’t expect a common water-strider with only one pair of eyes to understand that.” “One pair of eyes!” exclaimed Hyla. “Why, have you more eyes than the rest of us, Mr. Whirligig?” “Certainly,” replied the beetle, proudly. “We are not given to boasting, but, since you ask, I will say that we Whirligigs have many remarkable traits. Our family name is Gyrinidæ.” “Who cares for that?” shouted the angry water-strider, skating toward the whirligig with all his might. “Get out of the road, you beetle, or I will skate you down! Ugh,[261] what a horrid perfume you use! How dare you, sir!” gasped the strider, as the whirligig swam away, leaving the poor strider gasping and sputtering on the other side of the pool. “Keep your distance, then,” called the whirligig after him. “He won’t bother me for a time,” laughed the beetle to the tree-toad. “You see I have the power to give off a milky fluid from my joints, and common water-folk object to the odour, but it is my only way to get on with these skaters.” “But do you really mean,” asked the Hyla, “that you have more eyes than the rest of us?” “I certainly do,” replied the beetle with dignity. “We Whirligigs have a second pair of eyes under our chins, which enable us to see to the bottom of the pool as we swim about, and most convenient we find them.” “Wonderful! wonderful!” The Hyla could scarcely express his amazement. “I suppose that is the reason you never hurt yourselves in such rapid swimming?” “Not at all,” said the whirligig. “Examine[262] this handsome, glittering blueblack uniform I wear. It is really a coat of mail to protect not only our bodies but also our gauzy wings, for we fly as well as swim.” “I shouldn’t think you could hop very well,” remarked the tree-toad; “your legs look like oars.” “Who wants to hop if he can swim and fly?” retorted the whirligig, with scorn. “I am sure I don’t.” “Come, come,” cried the other whirligigs, who were swimming by. “Don’t spend the day talking when there is racing to be done.” “Well, good-bye, Mr. Tree-toad. There comes that skater again so I will be gone,” and off whisked the beetle. “Now that was interesting,” said the Hyla to himself. “I really ought to know something more of my neighbours. There comes a Water-Spider[14] for a bubble. Now I must ask her what she does with it. “Good-morning, Mistress Spider. What are you going to do with that silver bubble, may I ask?” [263] “Good-morning,” replied Mrs. Spider, as she snatched a bubble of air and held it with her hind legs. “I haven’t time to explain up here, Mr. Tree-Toad, but if you will call at my home I will be glad to tell you.” “I shall be most happy,” replied the Hyla, slipping into the water in a jiffy, and in a second later he was resting on the bottom of the pool, just under Mrs. Water Spider’s glittering balloon. “That certainly is very beautiful, Mrs. Spider. Would you mind explaining how it is done?” said he. “Not at all,” said the spider, as she came and sat in the door of her home. “My house, sir, is woven of silk, just as are those of other spiders, but instead of a web I weave this egg-shaped nest with the door at the bottom. Now, although I live under water, I breathe air, and it is necessary for me to fill my house with it. So up to the top I go and catch a bubble of air with the hairs of my abdomen and my two hinder legs. I then bring it down here and hang it in my silken balloon until it is, as you see, a glittering, transparent bell.[264] In the top of my nest I weave a little chamber in which to lay my eggs, and when my babies hatch out they stay in this shining home until they are strong enough to build a nest for themselves.” “And how many eggs, Mrs. Spider,” asked Hyla, politely, “do you put in the chamber?” “A hundred is the usual number,” replied Mrs. Spider, “but now you really must excuse me, as I am in need of more air.” “Goodness gracious,” mused the tree-toad, looking after her as she darted toward the top. “I should think she would feel something like that old woman who lived in a shoe, who had so many children she didn’t know what to do. But what have we here?” and Mr. Hyla leaned forward to watch a wee log hut that was creeping in the queerest way on a water-weed. “Ugh! What great goggle eyes you have!” piped a tiny voice from the door of the hut. “I should like to know what you are staring at.” “Well, this is surprising,” gasped the Hyla. “Now, who in the world are you?” [265] “I am a caddis-worm out for an airing,” said the voice again, as the hut reached the edge of the leaf. “I hope you have no objections.” “Oh, no; of course not,” stammered the astonished Hyla. “Only I should like to know if all caddis-worms carry their houses about with them?” “This is my overcoat, I’d have you know,” said the caddis, thrusting out his little black head. “My brother wears one of leaves, my sister wears a sand jacket. But mine is the best fit.” “May I ask who is your tailor?” asked the tree-toad. “It is certainly a remarkable coat.” “I am my own tailor,” replied the worm. “A caddis would scorn to have his clothes made for him; but it is very hard work, I can assure you of that.” “Would you mind telling me about it?” inquired the Hyla. “Your coat is a perfect fit; there isn’t a wrinkle in it.” “Thank you,” replied the gratified caddis-worm. “You see,” he went on to explain, “we always make our coats out of the material at[266] hand. Now, when I found these stylish sticks I anchored myself to a stone by a bit of silk which I spun from my mouth, for we caddis-worms furnish our own thread. Then by the aid of the same silk I wove this handsome coat, bit by bit, making one section at a time, and then slipping my head through and wriggling it down into place. See, I can put out my head and my first three pairs of feet, and so creep where I will.” “Most remarkable, most remarkable,” drawled the toad, who didn’t believe a word of it. “And did you say your sister wears a jacket of sand?” “Oh, yes, that is common enough,” answered the caddis. “I have heard that my grandfather, who wore an overcoat of shells, wove into it some tiny ones, each of which was the home of a little living creature, and the poor things had to pick up a living the best way they could. I have also been told that in captivity some of my family have made remarkable coats of gold dust and crushed glass. After a time I shall draw my head back into my overcoat and weave a silk veil, and so shut[267] myself in and go to sleep. When I wake up I shall no longer be a worm, but a beautiful four-winged fly; my gauzy wings will be delicately fringed and there will be slender antennæ upon my head, and I shall float in the air. Is not that a beautiful future? But here comes a pond-snail, a most interesting fellow. Shall I introduce you?” “Most happy. I hope you are well,” said Mr. Hyla. But the snail said he wasn’t feeling very well, as he had eaten a water-weed that didn’t agree with him; still, he was very pleasant and answered all the tree-toad’s questions most kindly. He said the first he could remember he was a little baby-snail not as big as a pinhead, moving about with hundreds of his brothers in the sand. Yet even then he carried a house on his back, a tiny, perfect shell, into which he could creep when danger threatened. “Some people say I am very slow,” said the snail, “but they forget I have only one foot and carry my house on my back. Yet I am not complaining, for I have a head in which[268] are my eyes, mouth, feelers, and organs of smell, while my relative, the oyster, having no head, has to wear his eyes, ears, and feelers on his mantle and his mouth near his hinge, poor fellow! Even my own cousin, the land-snail, has her eyes on long feelers, and has to draw them in if danger is near. Then see what a handsome cone-shaped shell I wear; inside there is a kind of spiral staircase, up which I can creep, and I can close my door with a thin film. If I break my shell I patch it with a sticky fluid that hardens and makes my home as good as new. I am an air-breathing creature and go up to the top to set free the bubble of impure air I have breathed and then bring down a bubble of fresh, sweet air. I have a long, ribbon-like tongue covered with teeth, with which I can chew the delicious water-weeds. Really, I consider myself a very lucky creature.” “It must be a trifle monotonous,” thought the Hyla, as he swam toward the top. “I should want a more stirring life. I wonder what that is!” What he saw was a small object floating[269] on the top of the water like an odd little boat, only it seemed made of tiny jars with their openings toward the bottom, and out of these jars were darting wee brown wigglers. “Hello, little chaps! who are you?” called the tree-toad. “We don’t know, we just got out,” cried the wigglers, “but there is our big brother; ask him.” The brother was a curious fellow. His body was very slender and of a mottled green colour, and he had large dark eyes. He also wore a huge moustache, which he was always moving about in a curious way, for he used it as a hand for feeding himself. On one side of his tail was a queer little screw he used as a propeller and rudder. He was sailing about at a furious rate, but almost always on his head, with his tail stuck out of the water. “Allow me to ask what you are doing in that strange position?” inquired the Hyla in his mildest tones. “Breathing, sir, as I should think you could see,” replied the larva, crossly. “What other way should one breathe?” [270] “Oh, excuse me,” said the tree-toad, as he slipped up to his old seat on the log. “I didn’t mean any offence.” “The fact is,” said the larva more pleasantly, “I have to go into my pupa case to-morrow and it makes me cross. It is no fun simply to float about without eating. Still, I shall be able to move about, and that is more than many an insect can do as a pupa, and after all it is only for a few days, and then I shall hatch out into a beautiful mosquito.” “Well, well,” said the tree-toad, “that will be pleasant. It seems to me I have heard of the mosquito. He is a musician, like myself, is he not?” “My mother was a fine singer,” replied the larva, proudly. “She had beautiful wings, two plume-like antennæ, and six slender legs; and she always carried about with her a case in which there were five lancets to pierce the skin of men and cattle, and she had also a drop of poison to inject into the wound. My father never did anything but fly about in the sunshine and sip honey; my mother was[271] the talented member of the family. I think I will be going; there come the Giant Water-bugs.” Mrs. Giant Water-bug was swimming quietly along by her husband, who looked very sulky and cross, and did not even return the Hyla’s greeting. “My, my,” sighed a water-boatman who was swimming about on his back, “how I do pity Mr. Giant Water-bug! Do not take offence at his not speaking, Hyla; he is simply crushed with his trouble. You see his wife forces him to act as a sort of baby carriage. She fastens her eggs on his back with waterproof glue, although he struggles and struggles to escape her, and he has to carry them about with him everywhere, poor old fellow! Sometimes he is so nearly heartbroken he just hangs to a water-weed and won’t move, no matter who tries to get up a fight with him. It is hard on him, for Giant Water-bugs have gay times. They fly away from the pond in such numbers to dance about those great shining balls that hang over the village that men have changed their names to ‘electric-light’[272] bugs. But what a time I have been gossiping here! I think I shall go for a swim.” The tree-toad sat sunning himself on the log, but ever on the outlook for a new acquaintance. “Faugh!” exclaimed the Hyla at last, “there is one of those horrid things that used to frighten me most out of my wits when I was a timid little polliwog wriggling through the water. She can’t hurt me now, so I will speak to her. Good-morning, my friend! May I ask who you are, and where you are going?” “I am not quite sure either,” replied the queer-looking creature as it dragged itself painfully up a water-weed. “I was once a larva much feared in this pool. I fed upon the juiciest polliwogs and other delicacies. But a strange change came over me. I couldn’t eat, and I fell half asleep, and to-day I feel that I just must climb out of the water; I cannot tell why. I think another change is going to take place in me. So I can only bid the world good-bye. Perhaps this is death.” And fixing herself firmly to the weed by means[273] of two little hooks on each of her six feet she hung perfectly motionless. “Bless me,” gasped the tree-toad, after he had watched the creature patiently for a few minutes. “Her eyes are certainly growing brighter, and what is the matter with her back? A crack, as I am a tree-toad!” Slowly the queer thing drew herself out of her case. She had a soft body now, and damp, closely-folded wings. But the kind sunshine and the gentle breeze came to help, and, little by little, she began to unfurl her wonderful wings,—great filmy wings that shimmered with blue and green, brown and yellow, delicate pink and violet, and she had large eyes that glittered with twenty thousand facets. “Oh! oh!” cried the Hyla. “How beautiful you are, you great dragon fly!” But away she flew without a word, zigzagging back and forth across the pool; a living gem, emerald, sapphire, and topaz, knitting the flecked sunshine with loops of light. “Well, well,” said the tree-toad, “this is the most astonishing thing of all, to think of that ugly larva changing to that beautiful[274] rainbow fly! But the day is going and I really ought to accomplish something before sunset. So I think I shall take a little trip over to that elm and sing for rain,” and off he hopped, leaving the pool sparkling in the sunshine, dappled with cloud-shadows, cool, silent, and sweet with drifting lilies. <hr class="chap" />  [275] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.