V V
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Ipedal P
lor The Bee's
Bus
y Little Homey-M
I Dear Little Primrose of ThejEverything Went Wrong
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Evening Is Slain by
Cruel North Wind
She Loved the Moon and the Moth and the Mist; When
She Died Skylark Carried Her Away to
the Beautiful Western Hills.
By MARGARET M'SHANE.
IT was evening in the garden; the
Sun tired out from his long
journey across the sky had
reached the Western Hills.
Here, as a large flaming ball he
hesitated, to take a last look at the
.world he had worked so hard to
warm and brighten all the day and
fully content with the result of his
labors, he suddenly dropped into a
sea of fleecy clouds to sleep and
dream of all the things of earth.
From this sea of fleecy clouds,
the Twilight Mist, with her silver
veil streaming behind her floated
blissfully through the soft night air,
and as the flower-folk looked on, she
was seen to bend low and to lay
the dainty evening Primrose, care
fully in the arms of Mother Earth.
"She will give you, Mother Earth,
the fullness of her beauty when the
Sun has gone to his rest, and
through her many of your earthly
creatures will learn the joys of liv
ing," gayly the Twilight Mist spoke
as she gave her gift to the Flower
world.
Then, with her errand to Earth
accomplished, she swayed about and
was lifted by a warm wind, and was
born away on the day atmosphere
of a m'd-summer's night.
The little Evening Primrose snug
gled softly into the cool strong arms
of Mother Earth and was soon
sound asleep tired out from her trav
els, from the far-away Western
Hills.
As Night approached the garden,
she stooped quietly to gaxe at the
little Evening Primrose. She was
startled at finding her so still, and
for an instant thought she had died
on her way to earth, but gazing a
little more closely she heard her
heave a deep sigh, and burst open,
spattering her dew drops all over a
big red ant who was nestling under
one of her leaves. The Ant, too
scared for words, scampered
through the grass to his own hill
top there to figure out in safe quar
ters, who gave him the deluge.
And the Primrose laughingly
watched him go his way, and look
ing up at the Night exclaimed;
Primros Awakens.
"I was taking 40 winks dear
Night, for I was completely tired
out coming so far with the Twilight
Mist, but I will btoom for you all
the more splendidly for my rest."
And the night, happy to hear her
voice again, lingered on by her side.
At the dawn of the following day
all the flowers chattered curiously
over the visitor to the garden, and
poor Mother Nature was so be
sieged with questions that she could
not answer them all.
They watched the Primrose in all
her moves and even though she did
not grow so very near to them;
more on the outskirts of the garden
and along the paths, they chatted to
her over each other's heads, and
sent messages to her by the bees,
and the birds and soon she was a
a favorite with them all.
The pale Night Moth sailing, the
following evening, over the garden,
stopped at the bed of the White
Pansy.
He was so excited, he could hard
ly talk. Never had the Pansy seen
him so interested, and he cried out
through sheer joy.
"Just last night, Pansy dear, I
noticed a beautiful new face in the
garden. Lightening the path as I
do with a streak of white, I saw in
the shadows a most beautiful little
face. It spoke of a far-away coun
try, 'and it held thoughts too deep
for words and its exquisite and
mysterious perfume held me so
spell-bound to the spot that I
thought could not move. I will not
have a minute's peace until 1 know
its history, and the whys and where
fores of its beng here."
"I am afraid I know very little to
tell you. Night Moth," the Pansy re
plied. "It came last night to the
garden with the Twilght Mist. I
saw her sailing with it through the
warm air, and she layed it gently,
Oh so gently, I have never seen a
flower handled so beautifully, into
the arms of Mother Earth, with the
words:
"She will give you, Mother Earth,
the fullness of her beauty when the'
Sun has gone to her rest, and
through her many of your Earthly
creatures will learn the joys of liv
ing." Primrose Has a Story.
"So she must be the flower of
joy and blessing. Indeed dear Night
Moth, I wisn I could tell you more
of her. She interests me as well
as you, but why don't you go over
and introduce yourself and ask her
for the story. She will be flattered
at your interest in her.
She has a story, I am sure of
it. No one could look out of her
eyes as she does without having a
story behind them; and then, just
think where she came from. From
the far away cloud of the Twilight
Mists. I have no doubt she was
worn out with her travels the first
night she reached here. She is one
of the flowers of mystery, that much
I do know."
And the Night Moth heard the
story of the mysterious little Eve
ning Primrose.
He heard how she had come to
Mother Earth; how she had sailed
through the clouds, wrapped in the
veil of the Twilight Mist, and how
glad she was to snuggle down in
the arms of Mother Earth and rest.
She Adores the Moon.
"And I am the flower of the eve
ning and of the night," continued
the Primrose, "and I bloom solely
for the Night, and the stars, and the
Moon. 1 adore the Moon and just
feast my eyes oa his splendour; and
the Night is so soft and tender; and
I play Vith the Fire Flies when they
go dancing over the garden, and I
would like you, too, dear Moth, to
come and visit with me and play
with me and take some of my
honey.
"I will tell you a secret. Away
down deep in the tube at the base
of my blossoms there lies the
choicest fruits.
You will find it the most delicious
honey you have ever tasted.
"In the Sunlight, while all the
other flowers show their colors gay,
and give their fragrance to every
passing breeze, my bed is but a mass
of soft green leaves; and then, as
soon as the day has spent itself, I
pop open with the most exquisite
little noise, at times it is so loud that
the birds have stopped On their
course to see the reason of this
noise, and I laugh back at them,
with great big flowers, that are
sometimes white, sometimes yellow,
and sometimes again, a pinkish lav
ender. "So you see, Night Moth, I choose
to clothe myself in the soft, light,
shades, like the shades you will see
away off at the fartherest ends of
the Rainbow.
"The four petals of my white
blossoms sometimes look as though
they were covered with a thin moss.
I am easily grown from seed and
need only dry soil and sunshine for
my food.
"My family all, are popular as
Rock garden plants. We grow be
tween these rocks very very thickly,
and our blossoms show off well in
relief against the cool grey rocks."
And so the Night Moth heard the
story of the fascinating flower of
mystery, and from him it spread
over all the garden. The flowers all
loved it as well as he and some
times msyiy of them sat up late to
hear her pop her patels as she
opened for the night, and to enjoy
her mysterious fragrance. From
that night on, the Night Moth was
a frequent visitor at her spot in the
garden, and he grew fat and healthy
on the fruit buried deep in her
throat. '
Cruel North Wind.
In the last two weeks of Summer
a cruel North Wind visited the gar
den. The Primrose suffered much
from these visits as cold was the
one thing she could not endure.
She caught a heavy cold, which
settled on her lungs; and having
from her birth weak lungs, struggle
as she might she could not grow
strong again.
Mother Earth nursed her well.
The little flowers all sent her their
rarest perfumes, and some extra
good honey; the Sun poured all his
warmest rays fcver her; the Night
sent her softest blankets, and the
Night Moth nestled close over her
with his wings spread far apart. The
birds brought their leaves to cover
her, and the Moon sat up each night
with her; but all this care and de
votion could not make strong the
tender lungs, so one night, while
the Moon was by her side, she
quietly passed away.
And all these friends mourned.
With Dumps Until
He "Woke Up"
By Carolyn Sherwin Bailey.
Once upon a time there was a
queer little elf named Dumps, who
lived all by himself in a dark little
house down in a valley. Ever since
he could remember, things had gone
wrong with him.
He shivered in the cold and
kicked the coal bucket when the fire
wouldn't burn. He howled when he
stumbled over his own dinner pots
that he had left sitting in the mid
dle of the floor, and he stood in his
front door and scowled when the
other, happy elves went by, without
speaking to him.
He and his family had lived like
that for years. When any elf want
ed to describe something very sad
he would say it was "Down in the
Dumps," and so Dumps went on
without a single happy day.
But the elves decided, suddenly,
to give a party. Oh, it was going
to be a very jolly party indeed, and
Dumps heard about it. Almost
every elf who passed was whistling,
or singing something cheerful. And
some of them were carrying their
best green suits to the Wood
Fairy's house to be pressed. Add
when Dumps heard about the party,
he cried so loudly because he knew
that he wouldn't be invited that the
Wood Fairy heard him. The noise
disturbed her so njuch that she went
right down to Dump's house to see
what was the matter with him now.
"Tell me about it from the be
ginning, my dear," she asked poor
little Dumps.
"I can't see the sunshine 1" Dumps
howled.
"Of course you can't," said the
Wood Fairy. "Your windows are
dirty. Get some nice spring water
in your little pail and wash them."
Dumps had never thought of do
ing that. When he washed the win
dows the sunbeams streamed in like
a golden ladder.
"Is there something else the mat
ter?" the Wood Fairy asked.
"My fire won't burn, even though
I kick the coal bucket every day,"
Dumps sobbed. .
"Well, do try blowing the fire,"
the Wood Fairy suggested.
Dumps had never thought of do
ing that. His bellows were stiff, but
he blew them very hard and, crackle,
there was a nice bright fire and his
tea kettle began to sing.
"Oh, no!" Dumps sighed, "The
other elves are giving a party and I
am not invited."
"It is for all the elves and you
don't have to be invited," the Wood
Fairy said. "Stand up straight and
let me brush your suit. Now run
along, my dear."
So Dumps started up the hill to
the party, laughing all the way for
he just couldn't stop. You see he
had so many years of being one of
the Dumps to make up for. He
laughed until all his wrinkles were
gone and he was puffed out with
happiness. He started bees buzzing
and grasshoppers fiddling and
crickets chirping, and a whole
crowd of yellow butterflies flew
aong with him.
"Who can this new, fat, cheerful
elf be?" asked all the other elves as
Dumps arrived at the party, turning
a double somersault into their
midst. "We are all here except
Dumps, and of course this isn't he?"
Then Dumps showed them how
he could turn somersaults and make
a see-saw out of a rush leaf. He
taught them how to play base ball
with white clover heads, and how to
make a swing of braided grasses.
He surprised himself with all the
good time he was able to think up.
"Of course, this isn't Dumps," the
other eleves decided. "His name
must be Delight," and Dumps never
told them their mistake, for it
wasn't really a mistake at all. Now,
was it?
Jokes
Here Is a Story of a Bird's
Queer Nest Under
the Water
W
Getting an Earful.
A groom was brought in to the
dining room to help the butler. The
groom was willing enough, but not
quite up to the vagaries of society.
He asked a deaf old lady if she'd
have any peas and 'she put her big
bell-mouthed trumpet up to her ears
to hear him.
"Heavens!" said the groom to
himself, "this is a new one on me,
but if she wants them that way, I'd
better let her have them."
And down the ear trumpet went
a generous spoonful of peas. Phila
delphia North American.
The Puzzle.
The teacher was trying to explain
the dangers of overwork to one of
the smaller pupils.
"Now. Tommy," she pursued, "if
your father was busy all day and
said he would have to go back to
the office at night, what would he
be doing?"
"That's what ma would like to
know!" Philadelphia North American.
Stories by Our Little Folks
Eats and the Prod.
I arrived from France yesterday
and wired my father as follows:
"Father, I am coming home to
eat. Slay the fatted calf and bring
on the vin rouge. Invite the 'chick
ens' and instruct the old band to
jazz as it never jazzed before, for
your prodigal son is coming home
to chow.
"After eating Corned Wooly and
hard tack for 11 months, I am now
looking forward to something to
eat and I hope I get it." By Scrgt.
D. Mordell, U. S. A.
By H. H. MINERS. I messy looking mass of reeds and
E read of the wonderful brush grasses floating around and never;
turkey of Australia and think 1 given it the least thought, i ct had .
what a real adventure it vou carefullv lifted the top of this ,
would be to discover one of those 1 mass off you might have found ten !
strange birds and its hne;e nest, and ; or twelve brownish stained eggs in
yet right at home we have birds
that build nests even more wonder
ful than that.
There are scores of common
birds whose nests rival the strang
est bird homes of the tropics. The
nesting habits of some of these
birds are so odd, interesting and
instructive that they are well worth
the time it takes to discover them.
I know of no more valuable way to
spend a spring day than searching
out some of these strange bird
homes and watching their owners.
If you don't believe it go down to
the nearest swamp and watch that
common water bird, the grelie. The
books call it the pied-billed grebe,
but you have probably heard it
called by a far less dignified name.
Surely you know this little brown
ish gray fellow. A pair of them
are found in almost every pond and
lake, rather shy, but not at all
afraid. You can see them diving
and swimming in almost any pond
you visit. But I'll venture that not
one boy in a hundred has ever found
one of their nests and yet you have
probably waded past scores of them
while frogging.
You might search unsuccessfully
for weeks if you did not know just
where and how to look. Many
times you have probably seen a
and each in turn requested, that they
might take her back to the Night
Mist. After much thought and
consideration, it was decided that
the Skylark should be called to
carry her back to her home know
ing the sky so well, the others
might lose their way.
Thee Funeral Song.
And the Skylark through back his
head, and the deep liquid notes of
the flowers' requiem passed over the
still air.
When finished, he flew to earth,
and, picking up the pale, cool body
of the little evening Primrose, he
placed it gently in his long, dark
bill; the bill, that had carried so
many leaves to the Primrose during
her illness, now carried her to her
final resting place.
The flower folks silently looked on.
The Skylark flapped his wings and
rose slowly in the air; then straight
ening his pinions far and wide, he
sailed with his burden of love to
wards the western hills.
Deep was the sorrow in the Gar
den family. They had all learned to
love dearly the little Evening Prim
rose, whose visit to earth was so
sadly shortened.
In the city of Humans, a soul
passes on; it is quickly forgotten and
its place soon is filled; but in the
Garden city the souls' shadow lives
on and on. ever and ever it lingers
until it becomes part o their rebirth.
the depression beneath, for this is
the way Mr. and Mrs. Grebe build
their nesst.
You might expect that such a
home would be built on top of a
muskrat house or close to the shore,
but not so. These industrious birds
usually select some spot quite a way
from shore and carefully concealed
in the reeds and rushes. Here they
gather a mass of cattails, flags,
grass, weeds and often small sticks.
These are carefully laid across each
other until a little floating island
has been formed. Then mud from
the bottom is brought up and the
whole mass glued together, more
or less .loosely. In the top of this
floating home is formed a depres
sion, which is lined with feathers
and fine grasses, and here the eggs
Our Blase Weekly.
Monday King George reviews
journeymen tailors.
Tuesday Business men's conven
tion at Kankakee.
Wednesday Fire at Hoboken.
Thursday King George inspects
fishmongers.
Friday Bathing girls at Long
Beach take a bath.
Saturday King George reviews
gentlemen steeplechasers.
Ever Notice 'Em?
Visitor What do you do with
your spoiled pens. Dispose of them
as junk?
Pen Manufacturer No; we sell
them to the postoffice department.
Saftey First.
"That unfortunate motorist seems
to have two flat tires, engine troub
le, a lurid vocabulary and a most
disagreeable disposition," com
mented J. Fuller Gloom. "However,
if I walk right by him, without
offering him sympathy or endeavor
ing to be humorous at his expense,
I do not anticipate that the wretch
will attack me."
Boob Visitor What's that fellow
doin' in the corner?
Artist Oh. he's there just to help
the composition.
B. V. Awfully decent of him,
isn't it? Punch (London).
Mrs. Flying Fish You Johnny
Flying Fish, come right back in thi-s
water! You'll get your feet dry
and catch your death of cold
are laid. It is not a very pretentious
looking home, but perhaps that is
what ist intended, for surely no
prowling crow of bluejay would
suspect that this unsightly mass of
decaying vegetation concealed a
feast for them.
Our Picture Puzzle
(Prized
Memorial Day.
' Arthur Vurtti. Age 10, Mem. N'b.
Dear liusy bees: i nis is tne nrst
time I have written to you. Once
upon a time there was a little boy.
whose name was Jack. He lived
with his mother and father in a
cottage. They were very poor and
it was a day before Memorial day
and he did not have any flowers for
the soldiers' and sailors' graves. He
though that if he could only get
some flowers he would be very
happy.
That day he found plenty of work
to do, so he went to a lady and
asked if she had any work, and she
said. "Yes, I wish that somebody
would hoe my garden," and Jack
said, "I will do it for you." So he
went and hoed the garden for the
lady and that evening he went home
with a big bouquet of flowers and a
quarter to buy some flags.
The next day he went to the
graveyard with some other children
to decorate the graves of the sol
diers and sailors.
When he went home that day he
frit happier than ever before in his
life. This is not a true story, so
good-bye, Busy Bees.
(Honorable Mention.)
the Wonderful Chain.
Theda Ormsby. Age 10. Trumbull. Neb.
Dear Busy Bees: I like your let
ters just fine, and I love to read
them. I would like to join the Busy
Bees very much. I will start the
story now.
Once when anybody went by a
house, some bells rang and some
body would run at them and chains
would clang together. Everybody
was afraid to go by this house or see
What wa9 in it and making the noise.
When anybody was about a quarter
of a mile from the house they would
hear the bells and hear the clanging
of chains and see something white.
One day a boy came to this town
and he said he wasn't afraid to go
to this house and see what it was.
He went the opposite way that the
other folks went, and he went up
and peeked in and saw the golden
chains. Then he walked in the
house and it was the chains ringing
the bell and a sheet put over the
window, and all the people honored
this boy for bravery.
Her First Letter.
Vastvti Adklns, Age 9. Loomis, .Neb.
Dear Busy Bees: I would like to
join your hive. This is my first let
ter to the Busy Bee page. I am 9
years old and in the Fourth grade.
1 have eight chickens and a hen
setting. I read your page very Sun
day. I have two brothers and two
sisters. My brothers' names are
Will and Herbert. My sisters' names
are Ireiw: and Dorothy. Will is 22,
Herbert is 18, Irene is 20, and Doro
thy is 12.
As my letter is getting long I
wilt close.
I wish some one would write to
me.
Papa's Cow.
Frances Hayes, Age 10, Klmwnod, Neb.
Dear Busy Bees: I am going
to tell you a story about papa's
cow.
Pet was papa's cow. She gave
rich milk and was very gentle. Papa
made a great pet of her and always
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81
62
64
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69
67
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N
Fifteen Minutes With Baby
Hose Faylnger, David City, Neb
"Will youitay with baby for about
15 minutes? asked Mrs. Hamilton.
"Yes, I'llbe glad to," I answered
So baby Was left in my care, a
condition he accepted smilingly.
"Come liby, I'm your guardian
I now," I s;l and baby with a coo
I and a gut;le crawled on all fours
I to where was sitting knitting on
a pair of ivristlets.
"No, nc you can't knit," 1 said
as baby ceerfully began pulling at
my knittig.
I thinkbaby understood for she
crawled ay into the kitchen.
I becart so interested in my knit
ting that! forgot all about her un
til suddely I was reminded of her
existenci by a loud crash and a
long wfling cry.
I sprag to my feet, (1 dropped
six stitces in .doing so and re
pented t. it afterward) and rushed
iiito thekitcben where baby was
j .strugglii: with a table cloth that
I envelop! her, a bowl of gravy sit
ting on her head and streams of
gravy tckling down her face.
"Oh. iby," 1 wailed, completely
1 overcon.
Babyieemed to understand for
she set p a howl that brougW tier
mothern a rush to see wha sis
happen g.
f thk baby knows befter now
than trpull at table cloths when no
one isatching.
A New Bee.
Ruh Rass. Age S, Annelmo, Neb
DcaBusy Bees: This is my first
letter nd I want to tell you about
the fni. We have eight little
turke; and some little chickens.
We !ve two dogs and one cat and
eight igs a colt and calf. Good
by toou all.
First Letter.
Gwemin Slump, Age 8 yearn, HBO North
Main street, Fremont, Neb.
Dr Busy Bees: This is my first
lette I go to North school and
am 1 the Fourth grade. My
teacV's name is Miss Whelpley. I
havewo brothers. I have no pets.
I hiJ some Busy Bees would write
to ! and 1 would be exceedingly
gla answer.
Ivlake Pin furniture
Trace the lines to ninety-tvo.
See who's waiting here for you.
Complete the picture by drawing a line through the dots beginning
at Figure 1 and taking them numerically.
MOW we are going to tell you I
how to make some novel fur- I
" niture for your doll house.
j Get a few black-headed pins and a
spool of colored twist. Then you
can find some scraps of velvet or
I satin cr other cloth, also a tiny
pasteboard box or a cork stopper.
Perhaps with a diagram in front of
you you won't need to be told hovv
1 to sro to work. But in case you
should be puzzled, here are the di
rections:
Have a cood box or a thin, round
piece of cork for the seat. Cork is
best, because the pins go in it so
much better. Vou can easily cut a
slice from a round cork stopper.
Cover with the velvet or cloth.
! Then stick in the pins for the back
I and twist the thread around them;
i lastly, stick four pins for the legs.
! After you have made a chair you '
will find that you ran easily make '
almost anv other article of furni
ture in the same way.
Here is another little tov that
should be interesting to make She the sides to form arms. Build
looks when made like a toy auto- P a body out of another piece of
'mobile ladv, thoiiRh in reality slie"v paper, pasung n against me
j is a clothespin lady. f0,lt an,l baf k and leaving it a little
r Before you start to dress her thr''" at the sides, making a sort of
' features should be drawn out on the attened cylinder. Over this cylin
clothe:,pin head. This can be dov.M 'u fan P"t fancy little clothes
with an ordinary pen and ink. P1 tlfisf paP" or cloth,
you wish to make her a jolly auto He sure to get her hood tied tight
mobile lady, K've a little upwaritmder her chin, so that the dear
twirl to the corners of her moutcreature may be well protected from
(when you mark it out. She wiriust. Whatever you do, don't for
then look as if she were -milirg. Iget the lady's yuggles. You can cut
you wi-ih to make lier look soleiiiitliee from black pasteboard and
faced, bend the corners downward tick them to her ears. She wouldn't
After you hne marked the fe:be a really, truly automobile lady
Mires stick two pieces of thick papeiUnle5 she wore goggles.
i!
i!
i!
i
)!
(!
milked her himself. Papa had a
hired man. He never did milk her,
hut one time he tried it and could
not do anything with her. He went
and told papa, and papa told him
to go in the house and get his hat
on and put his pipe in his mouth
and then try to milk her. So he
did it and he had no trouble in milk
ing her. This is a true stor.
First Letter
Terry Chrta'.enmn, Age 9, Prnder, Neb.
Dear Busy Bees: This is the first
time I have written to you. I have
five brothers jnd seven sisters. We
have a dog mmed ack, and he is
the cutest doj and is very smart.
My sister it writing this for mc,
and I am tellitg her what to write.
I am in tin third grade in school.
My teacher name is Miss O'Con
nor. Our s:hool was out on the
June 6 am! am glad for we have
lots of fun when school is out.
We go filing and I am going
to learn to !ini this summer.
1 will clot now and send you a
storv soon.
i
t