Childs Story Garden | Page 8

the troublesome birds. The meeting
was held in the new town hall, and to it came all the great men of the
town, and from far and near the farmers gathered. The great hall was
crowded. The doors and windows were open, and through them came a
beautiful flood of bird music, but the sturdy farmers and great men
shook their heads as they heard it. And then they told how the birds
were eating the grains and spoiling the fruit, and every one said the
birds must go. There seemed to be not a single friend to the singers
outside, until one man arose--the teacher in the town, much loved by
the children, and himself loving everything that God had made. He
looked sadly on the men around him, and then he said:
"My friends, can you drive away these birds that God has made and
sent to us, for a few handfuls of grain and a little fruit? Will you lose all
this music that you hear outside? Think of the woods and orchard
without the birds, and of the empty nests you will see. You say the
birds are robbing you; but instead they are your greatest helpers. With
their bright little eyes they see the little bugs and worms which destroy
the fruit. Think who has made them. Who has taught them the songs
and the secret of building their nests. You will be sorry when they are
gone and will wish them back."
But still the farmers shook their heads and said: "The birds must go."
So the birds of Killingworth were driven away, until not a single note
was heard, and only empty nests were left. The little children of the
town were hoping each day to see their friends again, and a strange
stillness and loneliness seemed to fill the little town, for the music in
the air had ceased.
The summer came, and never before had it been so hot. The little
insects and worms which the little birds had always driven away
covered every tree and bush, eating the leaves until nothing was left but
the bare twigs. The streets were hot and shadeless. In the orchard the
fruit dropped, scorched and dried by the sun. When the grains were
gathered one-half of the crop had been destroyed by the insects. Now
the old farmers said among themselves:
"We have made a great mistake. We need the birds."
One day in the early spring a strange sight was seen in the little town of
Killingworth. A great wagon covered with green branches was driven

down the main street, and among the branches were huge cages, and
the cages were filled with birds. Oh! they were all there--the robin, the
bluebird, the lark and the oriole--birds of every color and kind. When
the great wagon reached the town hall it stopped. The cages were taken
down from the branches of green, and little children, with eager hands
and happy eyes, threw open the doors. Out came the birds and away
they flew to field and orchard and wood, singing again and again:
"Oh! we are glad to be here! We are glad to be here!"
The little children sang, too, and the gray-haired farmers said: "The
birds must always stay in Killingworth."
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [Adapted]

THE MYTH OF PAN
In a very far-away country, a long time ago, there lived a man who
loved music and little children and the birds and flowers. And the little
children loved Pan--for that was his name--because he told them such
beautiful stories and played on a set of pipes which he had made from
the reeds which grew by the river. Every evening, when it was time for
the sun to go to sleep and all the little stars to wake up, Pan would take
his pipes, go down to the river side, and play all the songs he knew.
Everybody could hear Pan's music for miles and miles, but many of
them did not like his music, and wished that he would not play. Once
some of these people gathered together and planned how they could
stop Pan from playing his pipes, and while they were talking, some
beetles near by heard their plans. Now, one of these beetles had hurt his
wing at one time and had fallen down in the dust on the road, and could
go no farther. It was a very hot day, and the poor little beetle was
almost dead from the heat. Soon Pan came walking along and saw the
beetle, and, picking it up very carefully, he carried it on some green
leaves to a shady place, where he left it to rest and get well. The beetle
had never forgotten Pan's kindness, and when he