{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_51103/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_51103","id":"gutenberg_51103","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51103","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Novels","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Chautauquas"],"text":"Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 51103-h.htm or 51103-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/51103/pg51103-images.html)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/51103/51103-h.zip)\n\n\n      Images of the original pages are available through\n      Internet Archive. See\n      https://archive.org/details/chautauquaidyl00hill\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE BANK WHERE THE VIOLETS GREW]\n\n\nA CHAUTAUQUA IDYL\n\nby\n\nGRACE LIVINGSTON\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBoston\nD Lothrop Company\nFranklin and Hawley Streets\n\nCopyright, 1887,\nBy\nD. Lothrop Company.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY NOTE.\n\n\nMY DEAR MR. LOTHROP:\u2014\n\nI have read Miss Livingston\u2019s little idyl with much pleasure. I\ncannot but think that if the older and more sedate members of the\nChautauquan circles will read it, they will find that there are grains\nof profit in it; hidden grains, perhaps, but none the worse for being\nhidden at the first, if they only discover them. Miss Livingston has\nherself evidently understood the spirit of the movement in which the\nChautauquan reading circles are engaged. That is more than can be said\nof everybody who expresses an opinion upon them. It is because she\nexpresses no opinion, but rather tells, very simply, the story of the\nworking out of the plan, that I am glad you are going to publish her\nlittle poem: for poem it is, excepting that it is not in verse or in\nrhyme.\n\n                              Believe me,\n                                    Very truly yours,\n                                         EDWARD EVERETT HALE.\n\n\n\n\nA CHAUTAUQUA IDYL.\n\n\nDOWN in a rocky pasture, on the edge of a wood, ran a little brook,\ntinkle, tinkle, over the bright pebbles of its bed. Close to the\nwater\u2019s edge grew delicate ferns, and higher up the mossy bank nestled\nviolets, blue and white and yellow.\n\nLater in the fall the rocky pasture would glow with golden-rod and\nbrilliant sumach, and ripe milk-weed pods would burst and fill the\ngolden autumn sunshine with fleecy clouds. But now the nodding\nbuttercups and smiling daisies held sway, with here and there a tall\nmullein standing sentinel.\n\nIt was a lovely place: off in the distance one could see the shimmering\nlake, to whose loving embrace the brook was forever hastening, framed\nby beautiful wooded hills, with a hazy purple mountain back of all.\n\nBut the day was not lovely. The clouds came down to the earth as near\nas they dared, scowling ominously. It was clear they had been drinking\ndeeply. A sticky, misty rain filled the air, and the earth looked\nsad, very sad.\n\n[Illustration: AND RIPE MILK-WEED PODS WOULD BURST AND FILL THE GOLDEN\nAUTUMN SUNSHINE WITH FLEECY CLOUDS.]\n\nThe violets had put on their gossamers and drawn the hoods up over\ntheir heads, the ferns looked sadly drabbled, and the buttercups and\ndaisies on the opposite bank, didn\u2019t even lean across to speak to\ntheir neighbors, but drew their yellow caps and white bonnets further\nover their faces, drooped their heads and wished for the rain to be\nover. The wild roses that grew on a bush near the bank hid under their\nleaves. The ferns went to sleep; even the trees leaned disconsolately\nover the brook and wished for the long, rainy afternoon to be over,\nwhile little tired wet birds in their branches never stirred, nor even\nspoke to each other, but stood hour after hour on one foot, with their\nshoulders hunched up, and one eye shut.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAt last a little white violet broke the damp stillness.\n\n\u201cO dear!\u201d she sighed, \u201cthis is so tiresome, I wish we could do\nsomething nice. Won\u2019t some one please talk a little?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: OFF IN THE DISTANCE ONE COULD SEE THE SHIMMERING LAKE.]\n\nNo one spoke, and some of the older ferns even scowled at her, but\nlittle violet was not to be put down. She turned her hooded face on\na tall pink bachelor button growing by her side.\n\nThis same pink button was a new-comer among them. He had been brought,\na little brown seed, by a fat robin, early in the spring, and dropped\ndown close by this sweet violet.\n\n\u201cMr. Button,\u201d she said, \u201cyou have been a great traveller. Won\u2019t you\ntell us some of your experiences?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes; tell, tell, tell,\u201d babbled the brook.\n\nThe warm wind clapped him on the shoulder, and shook him gently,\ncrying,\u2014\u201cTell them, old fellow, and I\u2019ll fan them a bit while you do\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell, tell,\u201d chirped the birds overhead.\n\n\u201cO yes!\u201d chorused the buttercups and daisies.\n\nThe little birds opened one eye and perked their heads in a listening\nattitude, and all the violets put their gossamer hoods behind their\nears so that they might hear better.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cAND WHAT IS CHAUTAUQUA?\u201d]\n\n\u201cWell, I might tell you about Chautauqua,\u201d said pink bachelor\nthoughtfully.\n\n\u201cAnd what is Chautauqua?\u201d questioned a saucy little fish who had\nstopped on his way to the lake to listen.\n\n\u201cChautauqua is a place, my young friend, a beautiful place, where\nI spent last summer with my family,\u201d said the bachelor in a very\npatronizing tone.\n\n\u201cOh! you don\u2019t say so,\u201d said the naughty little fish with a grimace,\nand sped on his way to the lake, to laugh with all the other fishes at\nthe queer new word.\n\n\u201cGo on, go on, go on,\u201d sang the brook.\n\n\u201cWe lived in a garden by a house just outside the gates,\u201d began\nBachelor.\n\n\u201cWhat gates?\u201d interrupted the eager daisies.\n\n\u201cWhy, the gates of the grounds.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat grounds?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, the grounds of Chautauqua.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut who is Chautauqua?\u201d asked the puzzled violets.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you know? Chautauqua is a beautiful place in the woods, shut\nin from the world by a high fence all around it, with locked gates.\nIt is on the shore of a lovely lake. Many people come there every\nyear, and they have meetings, and they sing beautiful songs about\nbirds and flowers and sky and water and God and angels and dear little\nbabies and stars. Men come there from all over this world, and stand\nup and talk high, grand thoughts, and the people listen and wave their\nhandkerchiefs till it looks like an orchard full of cherry trees in\nblossom.\n\n\u201cThey have lovely singers\u2014ladies who sing alone as sweet as birds, and\nthey have great grand choruses of song besides, by hundreds of voices.\nAnd they have instruments to play on,\u2014organs and pianos, and violins\nand harps.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow beautiful,\u201d murmured the flowers.\n\n\u201cTell us more,\u201d said the brook; \u201ctell us more, more, more,\u2014tell, tell,\ntell!\u201d\n\n\u201cMore, more,\u201d said the wind.\n\n\u201cIt lasts all summer, so the people who can\u2019t come at one time will\ncome at another, though my cousin said she thought that one day all\nthe people in the world came at once. There must have been something\nvery grand to bring so many that day. There were not enough rooms for\nvisitors to sleep in, and Chautauqua is a large place, the largest I\nwas ever in. Yes,\u201d reflectively, \u201cI think all the world must have been\nthere.\u201d\n\nThe little white violet looked up.\n\n\u201cThere was one day last summer when no one came through the pasture,\nand no one went by on the road, and all day long we saw not one person.\nIt must have been that day, and they were all gone to Chautauqua,\u201d she\nsaid softly.\n\n\u201cI shouldn\u2019t wonder at all,\u201d said Bachelor.\n\nThen they all looked sober and still. They were thinking. The idea that\nall the people in the world had come together for a day was very great\nto them.\n\nAt last one spoke:\n\n\u201cHow nice it would be if all the flowers in the world could come\ntogether for a day,\u201d said the little violet.\n\n\u201cAnd all the birds,\u201d chirped a sparrow.\n\n\u201cAnd all the brooks and lakes and ocean,\u201d laughed the brook.\n\n\u201cAnd all the trees,\u201d sighed the tall elm.\n\n\u201cOh! and all the winds. We could make as beautiful music as ever any\norgan or piano made.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what is it all for?\u201d asked a bright-eyed daisy.\n\n\u201cTo teach the people all about the things that the great God has made,\nand show them how to live to please Him, and how to please Him in the\nbest way,\u201d promptly answered Bachelor.\n\n\u201cThere is a great good man at the head of it, and I heard a lady say\nthat God Himself sent him there to take care of Chautauqua for Him, for\nit is all made to praise God. They have schools,\u2014everybody studies, but\nit is all about God that they learn,\u2014about the things He made, or how\nto praise Him better, and all the talking,\u2014they call it lecturing,\u2014is\nto help men to praise and love God more. They have three beautiful\nmottoes:\n\n\u201c\u2018We study the word and works of God.\u2019 \u2018Let us keep our Heavenly Father\nin our midst,\u2019 and, \u2018Never be discouraged.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWonderful, wonderful, wonderful,\u201d said the old forest tree.\n\n\u201cIt is just what we need,\u201d piped one of the birds. \u201cWe don\u2019t praise\nGod half enough. Here we\u2019ve been sitting and sulking all the afternoon\nbecause it is raining, and never one thankful chirp have we given for\nall the yesterdays and yesterdays when it hasn\u2019t rained. We need a\nChautauqua. I declare, I\u2019m ashamed!\u201d And he poured forth such a glad,\nthankful song of praise as thrilled the old forest trees through and\nthrough and most effectually waked the napping ferns.\n\n[Illustration: AND HE POURED FORTH SUCH A GLAD AND THANKFUL SONG.]\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the listening daisies, when the song was done and the bird\nhad stopped to rest his throat, \u201cwe do need a Chautauqua.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cLet\u2019s have a Chautauqua!\u201d cried the brook.\n\n\u201cBut how could we,\u201d said the wise-eyed violet, \u201cwhen we know so little\nabout it?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will tell you all I know,\u201d said Bachelor graciously. \u201cYou see we\nlived just outside the gates, and people used often to come and buy my\nbrothers and sisters. Once a young man came and bought a very large\nbunch of them and took them to a young lady in a white dress, and she\nwore them everywhere for three or four days\u2014you know our family is\na very long-lived one, and we are something like the camel, in that\nwe can go a long time without a drink of water\u2014well, she kept them\ncarefully and took them everywhere she went, and they saw and heard a\ngreat many new things. One evening this young lady sat in a big place\nfull of people, and an old lady sitting behind her said to another\nlady, \u2018Just see those pink bachelor buttons! My mother used to have\nsome just like them growing in her garden, years and years ago, and I\nhaven\u2019t seen any since.\u2019 The young lady heard her, turned around and\ngave her a whole handful of my brothers and sisters. After the meeting\nwas out, the old lady carried them away with her, but one slipped\nout of her hand and fell on the walk, and some one came along in the\ndarkness and crushed her. Quite early the next morning our neighbor,\nMr. Robin, going to the market for a worm for breakfast, saw her lying\nin this sad state, and with great difficulty brought her home to us.\nShe lived only a day or two longer, but long enough to tell us many of\nher experiences.\n\n\u201cAfter she had faded and gone, our friend Robin went every day to hear\nand see what was going on inside the great gates, and every night when\nthe bells were ringing\u201d\u2014\n\n\u201cWhat bells?\u201d interrupted an impolite buttercup.\n\n\u201cThe night bells for the people to go to sleep by. They rang beautiful\nmusic on bells by the water to put the people to sleep, and in the\nmorning to wake them, and they had bells to call them to the big place\nto praise God, and hear the lectures and singing.\u201d\n\n\u201cBeautiful, beautiful,\u201d murmured the brook.\n\n\u201cAnd every night,\u201d proceeded the bachelor, \u201cwhen the bells were ringing\nwe would wake up and Robin would tell us all about the day inside the\ngates. Of course I can\u2019t remember all, but I will tell you all I know.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cPerhaps I can help you a little,\u201d spoke out an old fish who had come\nup the stream unobserved some time before. \u201cI lived in Lake Chautauqua\nmyself for some years until my daughter sent for me to come and live\nwith her in yonder lake.\u201d\n\nThey all looked at the old fish with great veneration, and thanked him\nkindly.\n\n\u201cWell, how shall we begin?\u201d said an impatient daisy.\n\n\u201cI should think the first thing to be done is to make a motion that we\nhave a Chautauqua,\u201d Bachelor said.\n\nThen rose up a tall old fern. \u201cI make a motion to that effect.\u201d\n\n\u201cI second it,\u201d chirped a sparrow.\n\n\u201cAll in favor of the motion say \u2018aye,\u2019\u201d said Bachelor, in a deep,\nimportant voice.\n\nAnd then arose such a chorus of \u201caye\u2019s\u201d as never was heard before in\nthat grove. The wind blew it, the brook gurgled it, the great forest\ntrees waved it, all the little flowers filled the air with their\nperfumed voices, the far-off lake murmured its assent, the purple\nmountain nodded its weary old head, the sun shot triumphantly through\nthe dark clouds, and all God\u2019s works seemed joining in the \u201caye aye,\naye,\u201d that echoed from hillside to wood.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cA unanimous vote, I think,\u201d said Bachelor, after the excitement had\nsomewhat subsided.\n\n\u201cThe next question is, When shall we have it?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! right away, of course,\u201d nodded a buttercup. \u201cSee! the sun has\ncome out to help us.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d objected white Violet, \u201cwe can\u2019t. We must invite all the flowers\nand birds and brooks and trees all over the world, and they will have\nto get ready. It will take the flowers the rest of this summer and all\nof next winter to get their dresses made and packed in their brown\ntravelling seed trunks. I\u2019m sure it would me if I were to go away from\nhere for the summer, and it is late in the season already. We couldn\u2019t\nget word to them all in time.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the fish, \u201cand there are the travelling expenses to be\narranged for such a large company. We should have to secure reduced\nrates. They always do on Chautauqua Lake.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! as to that,\u201d said the wind, \u201cI and the birds would do the\ntransportation free of charge, and the brook would do all it could, I\u2019m\nsure.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course, of course,\u201d babbled the brook.\n\n\u201cThat is very kind of you indeed,\u201d said Bachelor. \u201cBut I should think\nthat the earliest possible beginning that we could hope to have would\nbe next spring.\u201d\n\nAfter much impatient arguing on the part of the buttercups and daisies,\nit was finally agreed that the first meeting of their Chautauqua\nshould be held the following spring.\n\n\u201cIt must last all summer,\u201d they said, \u201cbecause some of us can come\nearly and some late. There is the golden-rod now, it never can come\ntill late in the fall.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course, of course; certainly, certainly,\u201d chattered the brook.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cWhat comes next?\u201d softly asked the wild rose.\n\n\u201cThe next thing to do is to appoint a committee to make out the\nprogramme,\u201d remarked the fish.\n\n\u201cCommittee! Who is that?\u201d cried a butterfly.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cTHERE IS THE GOLDEN-ROD NOW.\u201d]\n\n\u201cProgramme! what\u2019s programme?\u201d chirped a sparrow.\n\n\u201cO dear! we need a dictionary,\u201d sighed the roses.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cCOMMITTEE! WHO\u2019S THAT?\u201d]\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s a dictionary?\u201d asked a little upstart of a fern.\n\n\u201cSilence!\u201d sternly commanded Bachelor. \u201cWill Miss Rose kindly explain\nthe meaning of dictionary, after which Mr. Fish will proceed to tell\nus about programme and committee.\u201d\n\nLittle Rose blushed all over her pretty face, and after thinking a\nmoment, replied,\u2014\n\n\u201cA dictionary is a book that tells what all words mean.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d sighed the wind, \u201cwe must have a dictionary.\u201d\n\nMr. Fish having made a dash up stream after a fly, now resumed his\nsedate manner and spoke:\n\n\u201cMy friends, a programme says what we will have every day, and a\ncommittee are the ones who make it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen let\u2019s all be committee,\u201d said the buttercup.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a very good plan,\u201d said Bachelor. \u201cNow, what shall we have?\nThey always have a prayer meeting first at Chautauqua.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe can all pray,\u201d said the elm. \u201cLet us have a prayer meeting first\nevery morning to thank the dear God for the new day, and let the rising\nsun be the leader.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is good,\u201d said the flowers, and bright rays of light, the sun\u2019s\nlittle children, kissed them tenderly.\n\n\u201cWhat is next?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey have a large choir, and every morning after the prayer meeting\nthey meet and practise with the great organ and piano and band.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will be the singers,\u201d chorused the birds.\n\n\u201cI will tinkle, tinkle, like a piano,\u201d sang the brook, \u201ctinkle, tinkle,\ntinkle,\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI will play the band, for I have very many instruments at my command,\nand my friend the thunder will play the organ, while you, dear old\ntrees, shall be my violins and harps, and every morning we will\npractise,\u201d said the wind.\n\n\u201cWhat do they have next at Chautauqua?\u201d asked a pert blackbird.\n\n\u201cLectures,\u201d said the fish.\n\n\u201cWhat are lectures?\u201d\n\n\u201cTalks about things.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cI WILL TINKLE, TINKLE, LIKE A PIANO,\u201d SAID THE BROOK.]\n\n\u201cWhat things?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! evolution and literature and theology and philosophy and art and\npoetry and science, and a great many other things.\u201d\n\nThe high-sounding words rolled out from that fish\u2019s mouth as if he\nactually thought he understood them.\n\nSilence reigned for a few minutes, deep and intense, at last broken by\nthe white violet:\n\n\u201cWe never could have all those, for we don\u2019t know anything about them.\nAnd who could talk about such things? None of us.\u201d\n\nSilence again. They were all thinking earnestly.\n\n\u201cI don t believe it. Not one word,\u201d chattered a saucy squirrel. \u201cThat\u2019s\na fish story. As if _you_ could get on dry land and go to lectures.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cI DON\u2019T BELIEVE IT,\u201d CHATTERED A SAUCY SQUIRREL.]\n\n\u201cOh! very well, you needn\u2019t believe it if you don\u2019t want to,\u201d answered\nthe fish in a hurt tone, \u201cbut I heard a man on board the steamer read\nthe programme, and those are the very words he read.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf we only had a dictionary,\u201d again sighed the rose.\n\n\u201cDictionary, dictionary, dic, dic, dictionary,\u201d murmured the brook,\nthoughtfully.\n\n\u201cA dictionary is absolutely necessary before we can proceed any\nfurther,\u201d said the south wind. \u201cAnd as I am obliged to travel to New\nYork this evening, I will search everywhere, and if possible bring one\nback with me. Anything can be had in New York. It is getting late,\nand I think we had better adjourn to meet again to-morrow. I hope to\nbe able to return by two o\u2019clock. In the meantime, let us all think\ndeeply of what we have heard, and if any one can see a way out of our\ndifficulty, let him tell us then.\u201d\n\nThe sunbeams kissed the flowers good-night, the forest trees waved\nfarewell to the good wind, the brook called, \u201cGood-night! sweet dreams\ntill to-morrow, to-morrow, to-morrow,\u201d and all the air was soft with\nbird vespers.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nInto the bright sunshine of the next afternoon came the winds and the\neager birds to the place on the bank where the violets grew.\n\n[Illustration: ALL THE AIR WAS SOFT WITH BIRD VESPERS.]\n\nThe daisies leaned far over the bank to listen.\n\nThe south wind came bringing two or three torn sheets of an old\ndictionary.\n\n\u201cIt is all I could find, and I\u2019ve had hard work to get this,\u201d said he.\n\u201cI went in at a window where lay an open dictionary.\u2014I had no idea that\na dictionary was such a very large book.\u2014It was an old one, so I had no\ntrouble in tearing out these few leaves, as the paper was so tender. I\ntook them out of the window and hid them in a safe place and went back\nfor more, but just as I was turning the leaves over to find evolution,\nsome one came up and shut the window, and I had to crawl out through\nthe cracks. Well, I have all the \u2018P\u2019s\u2019 and some of the \u2018T\u2019s\u2019; we can\nfind theology and poetry.\u201d\n\n\u201cPhilosophy, too,\u201d said wise Violet.\n\n\u201cMy dear, that is spelled with an \u2018f,\u2019\u201d said the kind old wind\npatronizingly.\n\n\u201cO, no! I am sure you are mistaken. It is \u2018p-h-i-l\u2019; look and see if I\nam not right.\u201d\n\nThe wind slowly turned over the leaves of his meagre dictionary, and,\nsure enough, there it was,\u2014\u201cp-h-i-l-o-s-o-p-h-y.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it there? What does it say?\u201d questioned the eager flowers.\n\n\u201cPhilosophy, the love of, or search after, wisdom,\u201d slowly read the\nwind.\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said the flowers, \u201cis that all it is? Why, we know philosophy.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think the forest trees could lecture on philosophy,\u201d said the wind.\n\n\u201cYes, yes, yes,\u201d they all cried. \u201cThe forest trees, for they are very\nold and have had longer to search for wisdom than we.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well; three lectures a week on philosophy, by the old forest\ntrees; write it down, please,\u201d cried Bachelor.\n\nThe secretary, a scarlet-headed woodpecker, carefully carved it on the\ntrunk of an old tree, and I think you can still find the minutes of\nthat day written in lines of beauty all over the tree.\n\n\u201cTheology is the next word,\u201d announced the wind, and again turned over\nthe leaves of their precious dictionary.\n\n\u201cThe science of God,\u201d he read. \u201cScience, what is science?\u201d If we only\nhad the \u201cs\u2019s!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know what it is,\u201d chirped a bird. \u201cI hopped into the schoolhouse\nthis morning, and a book was open on the desk, and no one was there, so\nI hopped up and took a look to see if there was anything in it to help\nus. The first words my eye fell on were these,\u2014\u2018science is knowledge.\u2019\nAnd I didn\u2019t wait for any more, but flew away to sit in a tree and say\nit over so that I wouldn\u2019t forget it. Going back a little later to see\nif I could get any more words, I found the schoolhouse full of dreadful\nboys. As I flew away again, this little piece of paper blew out of the\nwindow, and I brought it, thinking it might be helpful.\u201d\n\nAs he finished speaking, he deposited a small fragment of a definition\nspelling-book at the foot of the elm tree, and flew up into the\nbranches again, for he was a bashful bird, and this was a very long\nspeech for him to make before so many.\n\n\u201cGood, good, good,\u201d cried all the committee.\n\n\u201cTo go back to theology,\u201d said the wind. \u201cIt is the science of God.\nScience is knowledge, therefore theology is knowledge of God. That is a\nvery great thing. Who is able to lecture on the knowledge of God?\u201d\n\nSilence all. No one dared to volunteer. None felt worthy to do so great\na thing.\n\nOut spoke a shy little wren. \u201cLast night I slept in a notch close over\na church window, and the window was open and there was a meeting of the\npeople there and the minister read out of the Bible these words:\n\u2018The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament sheweth his\nhandiwork.\u2019\u201d\n\n[Illustration: FOR HE WAS A BASHFUL BIRD.]\n\nShe paused a moment to gather courage, and then said, \u201cWhy couldn\u2019t the\nheavens teach theology?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cTHE HEAVENS SHALL TEACH THEOLOGY.\u201d]\n\n\u201cBless your heart, little wren, that is the very thing,\u201d cried the\nblustering north wind. And all the flowers cried,\u2014\u201cThe heavens shall\nteach theology!\u201d\n\nThe sky bowed its assent and said, \u201cI will do my best to perform the\nwonderful work entrusted to me.\u201d\n\nAnd the happy brook murmured, \u201cGlory, glory, glory! the glory of God.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cNow we will see what this bit of paper has for us,\u201d said the wind as\nhe picked up the paper at the foot of the elm.\n\n\u201cAh! What have we here? Evolution! Just what we want: \u2018evolution, the\nact of unfolding or unrolling.\u2019\u201d\n\nHe stopped with a thoughtful look.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\u201cYes, I see. As the young leaves and flowers unfold. The plants must\ntake full charge of this department, I think. I remember once turning\nover the leaves of a fat, dark-gray book, with gilt letters on its\nback. It lay on a minister\u2019s window-seat, and it looked interesting,\nso I read a few minutes while the minister was out and not using it,\nand among other things that I read was this, and it stayed with me ever\nsince: \u2018A lily grows mysteriously. Shaped into beauty by secret and\ninvisible fingers, the flower develops, we know not how. Every day the\nthing is done: it is God.\u2019 You see, my dear,\u201d addressing himself to a\npure white lily that had only that morning unfolded its delicate petals\nto the sun, \u201cyou see a great many don\u2019t understand how it is done. You\nneed to tell how God has made you able to unfold.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, we will, we can,\u201d they all cried.\n\n\u201cThe flowers will speak on Evolution,\u201d wrote down Woodpecker.\n\n\u201cThere are three more words spoken by our friend Fish, still\nunexplained,\u2014literature,\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI know what literature means, Mr. Wind, it is books,\u201d announced a\nbright butterfly who had just arrived on the scene.\n\n\u201cAre you sure?\u201d questioned the fish doubtfully.\n\n\u201cYes; of course I am. I went with a big pinch-bug one day into a great\nroom full of books, and he said, when he saw the shelves and shelves\nfull of them, \u2018My! what a lot of literature!\u2019\u201d\n\nThe committee looked convinced, but now came the question of\nbooks,\u2014Where should they get them? How could they lecture on books,\nwhen they knew nothing about them?\n\n\u201cWe must just send word around to all the flowers and birds and trees\nand everything, to see who can lecture on books, and we must all keep\nour eyes and ears open,\u201d said a buttercup bud.\n\n\u201cWe shall have to lay that on the table for the present,\u201d said the wind.\n\n\u201cBut we haven\u2019t any table,\u201d chattered a squirrel.\n\n\u201cA well brought-up squirrel should know better than to interrupt. We\nshall have to put this aside, then, until we can learn more about\nit. In the meantime, let us proceed with the next word on the list,\npoetry.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d said the brook. \u201cA bit of paper lay upon my bank, miles and\nmiles away from here, too high up for me to reach, but I could read\nit. It said, \u2018For poetry is the blossom and the fragrance of all human\nknowledge.\u2019 And I have said it over and over all the way here.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! the flowers shall give us poetry,\u201d said the good old wind.\n\nBachelor bowed his head and said, \u201cWe will try.\u201d\n\n\u201cTry, try, try,\u201d chattered the brook.\n\n\u201cArt is next, I believe,\u201d said Bachelor.\n\n\u201cYes, art,\u201d said a squirrel.\n\n\u201cArt is making pictures,\u201d said the moss.\n\n\u201cThen the sunset must paint them, for there are no pictures made like\nthose of the sunset,\u201d said the wind.\n\nThe sun hastened to mix his paint, and in answer to the request that\nhe would be professor of art, painted one of the most glorious sunset\nscenes that mortal eye has ever looked upon. Rapidly he dashed on the\ncolor, delicate greens and blues blending with the sea-shell pink, and\nglowing with deep crimson and gold, till the assembled committee fairly\nheld their breaths with delight. The crimson and gold and purple in\nthe west were beginning to fade and mix with soft greys and tender\nyellows, before the committee thought of returning to their work.\n\n\u201cWhat a lot of time we have wasted,\u201d said the oldest squirrel;\n\u201cto-morrow is Sunday, and of course we can\u2019t work then, and now it is\ntime to go home.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot wasted, dear squirrel,\u201d said White Violet, \u201cnot wasted when we\nwere looking at God\u2019s beautiful sunset.\u201d\n\nBachelor looked down at her in all her sweetness and purity, and some\nof the flowers say that later when he went to bid her good-night\u2014under\nthe shadow of a fern\u2014he kissed her.\n\n\u201cTo-morrow being Sunday reminds me that we have not made any\narrangements for our Sunday sermons. They always have great sermons\nat Chautauqua, and I have often heard the passengers on the steamer\nscolding because the boats did not run on Sunday, for they said the\ngreat men always kept their best thoughts for sermons.\u201d This from the\nfish.\n\nThey all paused. \u201cWe can\u2019t any of us preach sermons, what shall we do?\u201d\nquestioned a fern.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sure I don\u2019t know; we might each of us go to church and listen to\na sermon and preach it over again,\u201d said a thoughtful bird.\n\n\u201cBut we couldn\u2019t remember it all, and by next summer we would have\nforgotten it entirely,\u201d said one more cautious.\n\n\u201cWell, we must go,\u201d said the wind. \u201cMonday we will consider these\nsubjects. To-morrow is God\u2019s day, and we must go immediately, for it is\ngetting dark.\u201d\n\nAnd so they all rested on the Sabbath day, and praised the great God,\nand never a wee violet, nor even a chattering chipmunk, allowed his\nthoughts to wander off to the great programme for the next summer, but\ngave their thoughts to holy things.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe busy Monday\u2019s work was all done up, and the committee gathered\nagain, waiting for the work to go on, when there came flying in great\nhaste, a little bluebird, and, breathless, stopped on a branch to rest\na moment ere he tried to speak.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter?\u201d they all cried.\n\n\u201cWere you afraid you would be late? You ought not to risk your health;\nit is not good to get so out of breath,\u201d said a motherly old robin.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cCLOSE TO A WINDOW WHERE SAT AN OLD LADY.\u201d]\n\n\u201cOh! I have such good news to tell you,\u201d cried the little bird as\nsoon as he could speak. \u201cI sat on a bough this morning, close to a\nwindow where sat an old lady, who was reading aloud to a sick man, so\nI stopped to listen. These are the words she read,\u2014\u2018Sermons in stones,\nbooks in running brooks.\u2019 I didn\u2019t hear any more, but came right away\nto study that. I was so glad I had found something to help us. Two\nthings in one.\u201d\n\nThey all looked very much amazed.\n\n\u201cWhy, we didn\u2019t think we could do anything!\u201d cried the stones, \u201cand\nhere we can do one of the best things there is to be done. Thank the\ndear God for that. We will preach sermons full of God and his works,\nfor we have seen a great many ages, and their story is locked up in us.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the brook shall tell us of books,\u201d said the old wind. \u201cThere is\ngood in everything, and we shall try not to feel discouraged the next\ntime we are in a difficulty.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cA SMALL GIRL JUST UNDER MY NEST IN THE ORCHARD.\u201d]\n\n\u201cBooks in running brooks,\u201d said the brook. \u201cBooks, books, books. And I\ntoo can praise Him.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cThis morning,\u201d said a sober-looking bird, \u201ca small girl just under my\nnest in the orchard, was saying something over and over to herself, and\nI listened; and these were the words that she said:\n\n    The ocean looketh up to heaven as \u2019twere a living thing,\n    The homage of its waves is given in ceaseless worshipping.\n    They kneel upon the sloping sand, as bends the human knee,\n    A beautiful and tireless band, the priesthood of the sea,\n    They pour the glittering treasures out which in the deep have birth,\n    And chant their awful hymns about the watching-hills of earth.\n\n\u201cIf the ocean is so good and grand as that he ought to do something at\nour Chautauqua. Couldn\u2019t he? God must love him very much, he worships\nhim so much.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the elm tree. \u201cI have heard that a great man once said,\n\u2018God, God, God walks on thy watery rim.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWonderful, glorious,\u201d murmured the flowers.\n\n\u201cThey tell stories at Chautauqua\u2014pretty stories about things and\npeople; and I have heard that Ocean has a wonderful story. We might\nsend word to ask if he will tell it,\u201d suggested Bachelor.\n\n\u201cI fear he cannot leave home,\u201d said the wind, \u201cbut we might try him.\u201d\n\nSo it was agreed that the woodpecker should write a beautiful letter,\nearnestly inviting him to take part in the grand new movement for the\ncoming summer. The brook agreed to carry the daintily-carved missive to\nthe lake, and the lake to the river, and the river would carry it to\nthe sea.\n\nBachelor spoke next: \u201cThey have a School of Languages at Chautauqua,\ncould we have one?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have thought of that,\u201d said the fish, \u201cbut who could teach it?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is the trouble,\u201d said Bachelor, slowly shaking his head.\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d said a little bird. \u201cI went to church last night and heard\nthe Bible read, and it said, \u2018Day unto day uttereth speech, and night\nunto night sheweth knowledge. There is no speech nor language where\ntheir voice is not heard.\u2019 I think the day and the night could teach\nthe School of Languages.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe day and the night, the day and the night,\u201d said the brook.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the oldest tree of all, \u201cthe day and the night know all\nlanguages.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cWe must have a Missionary Day and a Temperance Day,\u201d said the wise old\nfish.\n\n\u201cWhat is a Temperance Day?\u201d asked a young squirrel, who was not yet\nvery well acquainted with the questions of the day.\n\n\u201cMy dear,\u201d said his mother, \u201cthere are some bad people in the world who\nmake vile stuff and give it to people to drink, and it makes them sick\nand cross; then they do not please God, and there are some good people\nwho are trying to keep the bad people from making it, and the others\nfrom drinking it; they are called Temperance.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said the squirrel, \u201cbut why do the folks drink it? I should think\nthey\u2019d know better.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo should I, but they don\u2019t. Why, my dear, I must tell you of\nsomething that happened to me once. I lived in a tree at a summer\nresort, that year, and just under my bough was a window; a young man\nroomed there for a few days, and every morning he would come to the\nwindow with a black bottle in his hand, and pour out some dark stuff\nand mix sugar and water with it, and drink it as if he thought it was\nvery good. I watched him for several mornings, and one morning the bell\nrang while he was drinking, and he left the glass on the window-sill,\nand went to breakfast. I hopped down to see what it was, and it smelled\ngood, so I tasted it. I liked the taste pretty well, so I drank all\nthere was left. Then I started home, but, will you believe it? I could\nnot walk straight, and very soon I could hardly stand up. I tried to\nclimb up a tree, but fell off the first bough, and there I lay for a\nlong, long time. When I awoke I had such a terrible pain in my head!\nAll that day I suffered, and didn\u2019t get over my bad feelings for\nseveral days. I tell this as a warning to you, that you may never be\ntempted to touch anything to drink but water, my dear.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must tell that story, Mrs. Squirrel,\u201d said Bachelor. \u201cAnd we will\ncall it a story of intemperance, by one of its victims.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will, with all my heart, if it will do any one any good,\u201d she\nresponded.\n\n\u201cYes, we must have a Temperance Day and all make a speech on drinking\ncold water,\u201d said the fish.\n\n\u201cAnd dew,\u201d said the violet.\n\n\u201cI have always drank water, and never anything else, and I think one\ncould scarcely find an older or a healthier tree than I am,\u201d said the\nelm.\n\n\u201cThat is true,\u201d said the fish.\n\n\u201cCold water, cold water, cold water,\u201d babbled the brook.\n\n\u201cYes, we can all speak on Temperance Day; we will have a great\nplatform meeting. That is what they call it at Chautauqua when a great\nmany speak about one thing. I heard a man telling his little girl about\nit on the boat,\u201d said the fish.\n\nAnd the woodpecker wrote it down.\n\n\u201cWhat was that other you said?\u201d asked a sharp little chipmunk.\n\n\u201cMissionary Day,\u201d said the fish.\n\n\u201cAnd what is that?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, there are home missions and foreign missions,\u201d said the fish.\n\u201cAnd they talk about them both. I think they have a day for each, or\nmaybe two or three. Missions are doing good to some one, but I don\u2019t\nexactly see the difference between home and foreign missions.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, that is plain to me,\u201d said Bachelor. \u201cHome missions is when some\none does something kind to you, and foreign missions is when you do\nsomething kind to some one else.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course; why didn\u2019t I think of that before?\u201d said the fish.\n\n\u201cOne day last year I was very hungry,\u201d said a robin, \u201cvery hungry and\ncold. I had come on too early in the season. There came a cold snap,\nand the ground was frozen. I could find nothing at all to eat. I was\nalmost frozen myself, and had begun to fear that my friends would\ncome on to find me starved to death instead of getting ready for them\nas they expected. But a little girl saw me and threw some crumbs out\nof the window. I went and ate them, and every day as long as the cold\nweather lasted she threw me crumbs\u2014such good ones too\u2014some of them\ncake; and she gave me silk ravelings to make my nest of. I think that\nwas a home mission, don\u2019t you?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, my dear, it was,\u201d said Bachelor.\n\n\u201cYou might tell that as one thing,\u201d said the wind.\n\n\u201cI will,\u201d said Birdie.\n\nSaid a daisy, \u201cWhen I was very thirsty, one day, and the clouds sent\ndown no good rain, the dear brook jumped up high here, and splashed on\nme so I could drink, and I think that was a home mission.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d said the elm, \u201cit was.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know a story I could tell,\u201d said the ferns.\n\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d said the elm; \u201cone of many years ago, when I was but a little\ntwig.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know a home mission story too,\u201d said White Violet.\n\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d said the brook. \u201cOnce I was almost all dried up and could\nhardly reach the lake, and a dear lovely spring burst up and helped\nme along until the dry season was over.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cYES, YES,\u201d SAID THE ELM, \u201cIT WAS.\u201d]\n\n\u201cAnd I, and I,\u201d chorused a thousand voices.\n\n\u201cBut what about foreign missions?\u201d said the fish.\n\n\u201cI sang a beautiful song to a sad old lady in a window, this morning,\u201d\nsaid a mocking-bird.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s foreign missions,\u201d said the chipmunk.\n\n\u201cSome naughty boys hid another boy\u2019s hat yesterday, and I found it for\nhim and blew it to his feet,\u201d said the wind.\n\n\u201cI sent a bunch of buds to a sick girl, this morning,\u201d said the\nrose-bush with a blush.\n\n\u201cI think we shall have no lack of foreign missions,\u201d remarked Bachelor.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cBut what can _we_ do?\u201d asked an old gray squirrel. \u201cWe can\u2019t preach,\nnor teach. We can run errands and carry messages, but that isn\u2019t much.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou might be on the commissary department,\u201d said the wind.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d they all asked.\n\n\u201cThings to eat. We shall need a great many, and you could all lay in a\nstock of nuts, enough to last all summer, for a great many.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, surely!\u201d they cried, and all that fall such a hurrying and\nscurrying from bough to bough there was as never was seen before. They\nworked very hard, storing up nuts, and the people came near not getting\nany at all.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt must have been about a week from the time they sent their letter to\nOld Ocean, that one afternoon as they were assembled, waiting for the\ndecision of a certain little committee, which had been sent over behind\na stone to decide who should be the leader of the choir, that up the\nstream came a weary little fish.\n\nHe was unlike any fish that had ever been seen in that brook, and\ncaused a great deal of remark among the flowers before he was within\nhearing distance.\n\nHe came wearily, as though he had travelled a long distance, but as he\ndrew nearer, the old fish exclaimed, \u201cThere comes a salt-water fish!\nperhaps he has a message from the ocean.\u201d\n\nThen the little company were all attention.\n\nNearer and nearer he came, and stopped before the old fish with a low\nbow, inquiring whether this was the Chautauqua Committee.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cAND THE PEOPLE CAME NEAR NOT GETTING ANY AT ALL.\u201d]\n\nOn being told that it was, he laid a bit of delicate sea-weed, a\npearly shell, and a beautiful stem of coral upon the bank, and said: \u201cI\nhave a message from Old Ocean for you. He sends you greetings and many\ngood wishes for the success of your plan, and regrets deeply that he\ncannot be with you next summer; but he is old, very old, and he has so\nmuch to do that he cannot leave even for a day or two. If he should,\nthe world would be upside down. There would be no rain in the brooks,\nthe lakes would dry up, and the crops and the people all would die.\u201d\n\n\u201cO dear! and we should die too,\u201d said the flowers.\n\n\u201cYes, you would die, too,\u201d said the salt-water fish.\n\n\u201cHe has a great many other things besides to take care of; there\nare the great ships to carry from shore to shore, and there is the\ntelegraph,\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is telegraph?\u201d interrupted that saucy little squirrel who had no\nregard even for a stranger\u2019s presence.\n\n\u201cTelegraph is a big rope that people send letters to their friends on.\nIt is under the water in the ocean, and the letters travel so fast that\nwe have never yet been able to see them, though we have watched night\nand day.\u201d\n\n\u201cWonderful, strange,\u201d they all murmured.\n\n\u201cOld Ocean says,\u201d proceeded the messenger, \u201cthat he cannot give you all\nof his story, as it would be too long, but that he sends some of it\nwritten on this shell, and in this coral and in this bit of sea-weed.\nIn the shell is a drop of pure salt water that if carefully examined\nwill tell you many more wonderful things.\u201d\n\nThey all thanked the fish kindly for coming so far to bring them these\ntreasures, and begged him to stay and rest, but he declined, saying he\nhad a family at home and must hasten, so he turned to go.\n\n\u201cStay!\u201d cried Bachelor. \u201cWouldn\u2019t you be willing to come next summer\nand give us a lecture on the telegraph?\u201d\n\nThe fish laughed.\n\n\u201cBless you!\u201d said he, \u201cI couldn\u2019t do that. I don\u2019t know enough about\nit myself. Ask the lightning. He is the head manager, and will give\nyou all the lectures you want. Good-by! the sun is getting low, and I\nmust be off.\u201d And he sped away, leaving the woodpecker writing down\n\u201ctelegraph\u201d and \u201clightning\u201d on one corner of his memoranda.\n\nAnd now the committee returned, having decided, by unanimous vote,\nthat the mocking-bird should be the leader of the choir, as he could\nsing any part, and so help along the weak ones whenever he could see\nthe need of it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere was a pause after the committee had been told all that had\nhappened during their absence, broken at last by Bachelor.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve been thinking,\u201d said he, \u201cthat it might be as well for us to have\na reply to Ingersoll.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d they asked, for they were getting used to strange\nthings, and did not seem so surprised at the new word.\n\n\u201cIngersoll is a man that says there is no God, and he has written a\ngreat many things to prove it,\u201d said Bachelor gravely.\n\nThe other poor little flowers were too much shocked to say anything,\nand they all looked at one another dumbly.\n\n\u201cIs he blind?\u201d asked a bird.\n\n\u201cHe must know better,\u201d asserted a fern. \u201cNo one could possibly believe\nsuch a thing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know whether he is blind, but I think not,\u201d said Bachelor.\n\u201cThey say he has made a great many other people believe as he does\nbecause he talks so beautifully.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow dreadful!\u201d said the flowers, in a sad voice.\n\n\u201cThey had a man at Chautauqua who answered all he said and proved that\nit was untrue, but every one did not hear him. I think we ought to have\na day to answer Ingersoll,\u201d again said Bachelor.\n\n\u201cYes, we must,\u201d said the north wind; \u201cand we will all prove there _is_\na God. No one could have made me but God.\u201d And he blew and blew until\nthe flowers crouched down almost afraid at his fierceness.\n\nWhen all was quiet again, out hopped a dignified-looking bird. \u201cMy\nfriends,\u201d said he, \u201cmy wife and I went to church last night, and they\nsang a beautiful hymn that has long been one of my favorites. I told my\nwife to listen hard, and this morning, with my help, she was able to\nsing it. I think it would help on this subject if we were to sing it\nfor you now.\u201d\n\n\u201cSing, sing, sing,\u201d said the brook.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cI THINK IT WOULD HELP ON THIS SUBJECT.\u201d]\n\nThe meek little wife at her husband\u2019s word stepped out, and together\nthey sang this wonderful hymn:\n\n    The spacious firmament on high,\n    With all the blue ethereal sky,\n    The spangled heavens, a shining frame,\n    Their great original proclaim;\n    The unwearied sun, from day to day,\n    Does his Creator\u2019s power display,\n    And publishes to every land\n    The work of an Almighty hand.\n\n    Soon as the evening shades prevail,\n    The moon takes up the wondrous tale,\n    And nightly to the listening earth\n    Repeats the story of her birth:\n    While all the stars that round her burn,\n    And all the planets in their turn,\n    Confirm the tidings as they roll,\n    And spread the truth from pole to pole.\n\n    What though, in solemn silence, all\n    Move round the dark, terrestrial ball?\n    What though no _real_ voice or sound\n    Amid their radiant orbs be found?\n    In _reason\u2019s_ ear they all rejoice,\n    And utter forth a glorious voice,\n    Forever singing as they shine,\n    The hand that made us is divine.\n\nWhen they had finished, the whole congregation bowed their heads.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d they said, \u201cevery day we will show forth the greatness of God\nwho made us, and that bad man will see and hear and believe, and the\npeople will not be led away from God any more.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will make that our great aim, to show forth the glory of God,\u201d they\nall cried together.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo the little workers planned, and sent their messengers far and wide,\nover land and sea, and made out their programme; and the lecturers\nspent days and days preparing their manuscript,\u2014for aught I know they\nare at it yet.\n\nThe flowers all have received their invitations to come, and some were\nso eager to be off that they packed their brown seed trunks and coaxed\nthe wind to carry them immediately, that they might be early on the\nspot.\n\nNext spring when the snow is gone and the trees are putting forth their\nleaves, and all looks tender and beautiful, you will see the birds\nflying back and forth, very busy, carrying travellers and messages; the\nsquirrels will go chattering to their store-houses to see that all is\nright, and to air the rooms a little; the birds will build many nests,\nmore than they need, and you will wonder why, and will never know\nthat they are summer nests for rent, else you might like to rent one\nyourself.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cYOU WILL SEE THE BIRDS FLYING BACK AND FORTH.\u201d]\n\nThe wind, too, will be busy, so busy that he will hardly have time to\ndry your clothes that hang out among the apple blossoms.\n\nYou don\u2019t know what it all means?\n\n[Illustration: THE BIRDS WILL BUILD MANY NESTS.]\n\n[Illustration: Wake up quite early every morning and listen. Be\npatient, and one morning, just as the first pink glow of the rising sun\ntinges the east, you will hear a watching tree call out,\u2014]\n\n[Illustration:\n\n    The year\u2019s at the spring,\n    And the day\u2019s at the morn;\n    Morning\u2019s at seven;\n    The hillside\u2019s dew pearled;\n    The lark\u2019s on the wing;\n    The snail\u2019s on the thorn;\n    God\u2019s in his heaven\u2014\n    All\u2019s right with the world.]\n\nAnd then all the lily-bells will chime out the call to prayer, the\ngreat red sun will come up and lead, and the little Chautauqua will\nopen.\n\nYou will hear the sweet notes of praise from the bird choir, and\nprayers will rise from the flowers like sweet incense; you will see and\nhear it all, but will you remember that it is all to show forth the\nglory of God?\n\n\n\n\nTHE SCHOOL OF HOME.\n\n\nLet the school of home be a good one. Let reading be such as to\nquicken the mind for better reading still; for the school at home is\nprogressive.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe baby is to be read to. What shall mother and sister and father and\nbrother read to the baby?\n\nBABYLAND. Babyland rhymes and jingles; great big letters and little\nthoughts and words out of BABYLAND. Pictures so easy to understand that\nbaby quickly learns the meaning of light and shade, of distance, of\ntree, of cloud. The grass is green; the sky is blue; the flowers\u2014are\nthey red or yellow? That depends on mother\u2019s house-plants. Baby sees in\nthe picture what she sees in the home and out of the window.\n\nBABYLAND, mother\u2019s monthly picture-and-jingle primer for baby\u2019s\ndiversion, and baby\u2019s mother-help; 50 cents a year.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhat, when baby begins to read for herself? OUR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN is\nmade to go on with. BABYLAND forms the reading habit. Think of a baby\nwith the reading habit! After a little she picks up the letters and\nwants to know what they mean. The jingles are jingles still; but the\ntales that lie under the jingles begin to ask questions.\n\nWhat do Jack and Jill go up the hill after water for? Isn\u2019t water down\nhill? Baby is outgrowing BABYLAND.\n\nNo more nonsense. There is fun enough in sense. The world is full\nof interesting things; and, if they come to a growing child not in\ndiscouraging tangles but an easy one at a time, there is fun enough\nin getting hold of them. That is the way to grow. OUR LITTLE MEN AND\nWOMEN helps such growth as that. Beginnings of things made easy by\nwords and pictures; not too easy. The reading habit has got to another\nstage.\n\nA dollar for such a school as that for a year.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThen comes THE PANSY with stories of child-life, travel at home and\nabroad, adventure, history old and new, religion at home and over the\nseas, and roundabout tales on the International Sunday School Lesson.\n\nPansy the editor; THE PANSY the magazine. There are thousands and\nthousands of children and children of larger growth all over the\ncountry who know about Pansy the writer, and THE PANSY the magazine.\nThere are thousands and thousands more who will be glad to know.\n\nA dollar a year for THE PANSY.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe reading habit is now pretty well established; not only the reading\nhabit, but liking for useful reading; and useful reading leads to\nlearning.\n\nNow comes WIDE AWAKE, vigorous, hearty, not to say heavy. No, it isn\u2019t\nheavy, though full as it can be of practical help along the road to\nsober manhood and womanhood. Full as it can be! There is need of play\nas well as of work; and WIDE AWAKE has its mixture of work and rest and\nplay. The work is all toward self-improvement; so is the rest; and so\nis the play. $2.40 a year.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSpecimen copies of all the Lothrop magazines for fifteen cents; any one\nfor five\u2014in postage stamps.\n\nAddress D. Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\nYou little know what help there is in books for the average housewife.\n\nTake _Domestic Problems_, for instance, beginning with this hard\nquestion: \u201cHow may a woman enjoy the delights of culture and at the\nsame time fulfil her duties to family and household?\u201d The second\nchapter quotes from somebody else: \u201cIt can\u2019t be done. I\u2019ve tried it;\nbut, as things now are, it can\u2019t be done.\u201d\n\nMrs. Diaz looks below the surface. Want of preparation and culture, she\nsays, is at the bottom of a woman\u2019s failure, just as it is of a man\u2019s.\n\nThe proper training of children, for instance, can\u2019t be done without\nsome comprehension of children themselves, of what they ought to grow\nto, their stages, the means of their guidance, the laws of their\nhealth, and manners. But mothers get no hint of most of these things\nuntil they have to blunder through them. Why not? Isn\u2019t the training of\nchildren woman\u2019s mission? Yes, in print, but not in practice. What is\nher mission in practice? Cooking and sewing!\n\nWoman\u2019s worst failure then is due to the stupid blunder of putting\ncomparatively trivial things before the most important of all. The\nresult is bad children and waste of a generation or two\u2014all for putting\ncooking and sewing before the training of children.\n\nNow will any one venture to say that any particular mother, you for\ninstance, has got to put cooking and sewing before the training of\nchildren?\n\nAny mother who really makes up her mind to put her children first can\nfind out how to grow tolerable children at least.\n\nAnd that is what Mrs. Diaz means by preparation\u2014a little knowledge\nbeforehand\u2014the little that leads to more.\n\nIt _can_ be done; and _you_ can do it! Will you? It\u2019s a matter of\nchoice; and you are the chooser.\n\n    Domestic Problems. By Mrs. A. M. Diaz. $1. D. Lothrop\n    Company, Boston.\n\nWe have touched on only one subject. The author treats of many.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDr. Buckley the brilliant and versatile editor of the _Christian\nAdvocate_ says in the preface of his book on northern Europe \u201cI hope\nto impart to such as have never seen those countries as clear a view\nas can be obtained from reading\u201d and \u201cMy chief reason for traveling in\nRussia was to study Nihilism and kindred subjects.\u201d\n\nThis affords the best clue to his book to those who know the writer\u2019s\nquickness, freshness, independence, force, and penetration.\n\n    The Midnight Sun, the Tsar and the Nihilist. Adventures\n    and Observations in Norway, Sweden and Russia. By J.\n    M. Buckley, LL. D. 72 illustrations, 376 pages. $3. D.\n    Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\nJust short of the luxurious in paper, pictures and print.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe writer best equipped for such a task has put into one illustrated\nbook a brief account of every American voyage for polar exploration,\nincluding one to the south almost forgotten.\n\n    American Explorations in the Ice Zones. By Professor\n    J. E. Nourse, U. S. N. 10 maps, 120 illustrations, 624\n    pages. Cloth, $3, gilt edges $3.50, half-calf $6 D.\n    Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\nNot written especially for boys; but they claim it.\n\nThe wife of a U. S. lighthouse inspector, Mary Bradford Crowninshield,\nwrites the story of a tour of inspection along the coast of Maine with\ntwo boys on board\u2014for other boys of course. A most instructive as well\nas delightful excursion.\n\nThe boys go up the towers and study the lamps and lanterns and all the\ndevices by which a light in the night is made to tell the wary sailor\nthe coast he is on; and so does the reader. Stories of wrecks and\nrescues beguile the waiting times. There are no waiting times in the\nstory.\n\n    All Among the Lighthouses, or Cruise of the Goldenrod.\n    By Mary Bradford Crowninshield. 32 illustrations, 392\n    pages. $2.50. D. Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\nThere\u2019s a vast amount of coast-lore besides.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMr. Grant Allen, who knows almost as much as anybody, has been making\na book of twenty-eight separate parts, and says of it: \u201cThese little\nessays are mostly endeavors to put some of the latest results of\nscience in simple, clear and intelligible language.\u201d\n\nNow that is exactly what nine hundred and ninety-nine in a thousand of\nus want, if it isn\u2019t dry. And it isn\u2019t dry. Few of those who have the\nwonderful knowledge of what is going on in the learned world have the\ngift of popular explanation\u2014the gift of telling of it. Mr. Allen has\nthat gift; the knowledge, the teaching grace, the popular faculty.\n\n    Common Sense Science. By Grant Allen. 318 pages. $1.50.\n    D. Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\nBy no means a list of new-found facts; but the bearings of them on\ncommon subjects.\n\nWe don\u2019t go on talking as if the earth were the centre of things, as if\nGalileo never lived. Huxley and Spencer have got to be heard. Shall we\nwait two hundred and fifty years?\n\nThe book is simply an easy means of intelligence.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is nothing more dreary than chemistry taught as it used to be\ntaught to beginners. There is nothing brighter and fuller of keen\ndelight than chemistry taught as it can be taught to little children\neven.\n\n    Real Fairy Folks. By Lucy Rider Meyer, A. M. 389 pages.\n    $1.25. D. Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll be their teacher\u2014give them private scientific lectures! Trust\nme to manage the school part!\u201d The book is alive with the secrets of\nthings.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt takes a learned man to write an easy book on almost any subject.\n\nArthur Gilman, of the College for Women, at Cambridge, known as the\n\u201cHarvard Annex,\u201d has made a little book to help young people along in\nthe use of the dictionary. One can devour it in an hour or two; but the\nreading multiplies knowledge and means of knowledge.\n\n    Short Stories from the Dictionary. By Arthur Gilman, M.\n    A. 129 pages. 60 cents. D. Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\nAn unconscious beginning of what may grow to be philology, if one\u2019s\nfaculty lies that way. Such bits of education are of vastly more\nimportance than most of us know. They are the seeds of learning.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nElizabeth P. Peabody at the age of eighty-four years has made a book\nof a number of essays, written during fifty years of a most productive\nlife, on subjects of lasting interest, published forgotten years ago in\n_Emerson\u2019s Magazine_, _The Dial_, Lowell\u2019s _Pioneer_, etc.\n\n    Last Evening with Allston and Other Papers, 350 pages.\n    $1.50. D. Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe wife of Fr\u00e9mont, the Pathfinder of forty years ago and almost\nPresident thirty years ago, has written a bookful of reminiscences.\n\n    Souvenirs of My Time. By Jessie Benton Fr\u00e9mont. 393\n    pages. $1.50. D. Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\nMrs. Fr\u00e9mont has long been known as a brilliant converser and\nstory-teller. Her later years have been given to making books; and the\nbooks have the freshness and sparkle of youth.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe literary editor of the _Nation_ gathers together nearly a hundred\npoems and parts of poems to read to children going to sleep.\n\n    Bedside Poetry, a Parents\u2019 Assistant in Moral\n    Discipline. 143 pages. Two bindings, 75 cents and $1.\n    D. Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\nThe poems have their various bearings on morals and graces; and there\nis an index called a key to the moralities. The mother can turn, with\nlittle search, to verses that put in a pleasant light the thoughts the\nlittle one needs to harbor. Hence the sub-title.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nReaders of poetry are almost as scarce as poetry\u2014Have you noticed how\nlittle there is in the world? how wide the desert, how few the little\noases?\n\n    Through the Year with the Poets. Edited by Oscar Fay\n    Adams. 12 bijou books of the months, of about 130 pages\n    each. 75 cents each. D. Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\nIs it possible? Is there enough sweet singing ringing lustrous verse\nbetween heaven and earth to make twelve such books? There is indeed;\nand heaven and earth are in it!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nGinx\u2019s Baby, a burlesque book of most serious purpose, made a stir\nin England some years ago; and, what is of more account, went far to\naccomplish the author\u2019s object.\n\n    Evolution of Dodd. By William Hawley Smith. 153 pages.\n    $1. D. Lothrop Company, Boston.\n\nDodd is the terrible schoolboy. How he became so; who is responsible;\nwhat is the remedy\u2014such is the gist of the book.\n\nAs bright as Ginx\u2019s Baby. A bookful of managing wisdom for parents as\nwell as teachers.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nQuestions such as practical boys and girls are asking their mothers all\nthe year round about things that come up. Not one in ten of the mothers\ncan answer one in ten of the questions.\n\n    Household Notes and Queries, A Family Reference-Book.\n    By the Wise Blackbird. 115 pages. 60 cents.\n\nIt is handy to have such a book on the shelf, and handier yet to have\nthe knowledge that\u2019s in it in one\u2019s head.\n\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber\u2019s note:\n\nObvious punctuation errors were corrected.","title":"A Chautauqua Idyl","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":10380}