ian, and he could make his son live, but he could
not make him a boy again.

"You shall be a frog," said he, "and you shall make your home in the
marsh with the reeds and the rushes. There you shall wail as loud as you
will for your sister, and once every moon I will come and wail for her
with you. I was cruel to you and to her, and so I must live alone in my
gloomy wigwam."

Every summer night one can hear the frog in the marsh wailing for his
dear sister Hah-hah. Sometimes a louder voice is heard, and that is the
voice of the father wailing because he was so cruel.

[Illustration]

WHY THE RABBIT IS TIMID.

One night the moon looked down from the sky upon the people on the earth
and said to herself, "How sorrowful they look! I wish I knew what
troubles them. The stars and I are never sad, and I do not see why men
should be troubled." She listened closely, and she heard the people say,
"How happy we should be if death never came to us. Death is always
before us."

The path of the moon lies across the sky, and she could not leave it to
go to the earth, but she called the white rabbit and said, "Rabbit,
should you be afraid to go down to the earth?"

"No," answered the rabbit, "I am not afraid."

"The people on the earth are troubled because death is before them. Now
will you go to them and whisper, 'The moon dies every night. You can see
it go down into the darkness, but when another night comes, then the
moon rises again,'--can you remember to tell them that?"

"Yes," said the rabbit, "I will remember."

"Say this," said the moon: "'The moon dies, but the moon rises again,
and so will you.'"

The rabbit was so glad to go to the earth that he danced and leaped and
sprang and frolicked, but when he tried to tell the people what the moon
had said, he could not remember, and he said, "The moon says that she
dies and will not rise again, and so you will die and will not rise
again."

The moon saw that the people were still troubled, and she called the
rabbit and asked what he had said to them.

"I said that as you die and do not rise, so they too will die and not
rise," said the rabbit.

"You did not try to remember, and you must be punished," said the moon,
and she fired an arrow tipped with flint at the rabbit.

The arrow struck the rabbit's lip and split it. From that time every
rabbit has had a split lip. The rabbit was afraid of the moon, and he
was afraid of the people on the earth. He had