me low dry
place under a log, stone or fence-rail, it will spin a cocoon with its
own spikey hairs outside for a protector. In this rough hairy coffin it
will roll itself up, for its "little death," as the Indians call it, and
Mother Carey will come along with her sleeping wand, and touch it, so it
will go into sound sleep, but for only a few days. One bright sunny
morning old Mother Carey comes around again, touches the Woolly-bear
bundle-baby, and out of it comes the Woolly-bear, only now it is changed
like the Prince in the story into a beautiful Moth called the
Tiger-Moth! Out he comes, and if you look up at one end of the coffin he
is leaving, you may see the graveclothes he wore when first he went to
sleep. Away he flies now to seek his beautiful mate, and soon she lays a
lot of eggs, from each of which will come another little Woolly-bear to
grow into a big Woolly-bear, and do it all over again.

TALE 10

How the Violets Came

The Meadow she was sorry
For her sister Sky, you see,
'Cause, though her robe of blue was bright,
'Twas plain as it could be.

And so she sent a skylark up
To trim the Sky robe right
With daisies from the Meadow
(You can see them best at night).

And every scrap of blue cut out
To make those daisies set
Came tumbling down upon the grass
And grew a violet.

TALE 11

Cocoons

Everyone loves to go a-hunting. Our forebears were hunters for so many
ages that the hunting spirit is strong in all of us, even though held in
check by the horror of giving pain to a fellow being. But the pleasure
of being outdoors, of seeking for hidden treasures, of finding something
that looks at first like old rubbish, and then turns out to be a
precious and beautiful thing, that is ours by right of the old
law--finders, keepers. That is a kind of hunting that every healthy
being loves, and there are many ways and chances for you to enjoy it.

Go out any time between October and April, and look in all the low trees
and high bushes for the little natural rag-bundles called "cocoons."
Some are bundle-shaped and fast to a twig their whole length. Some hang
like a Santa Claus bag on a Christmas tree; but all may be known by
their hairiness or the strong, close cover of fine gray or brown fibre
or silk, without seams and woven to keep out the wet.

[Illustration: Cocoons]

They are so strongly fastened o