The Brownies' quest; a day with the Brownies

Chapter I

The King of the Brownies rose from his toad-stool throne, and waved his wand, which was the vein of an oakleaf.

“Now, remember,” he said, “it is only for this day that my promise holds good; so scatter, all of you, and see what you can find.”

Thereupon there was such a patter¬ ing of little feet, that had you been there you would have said, “Listen to the hail storm!”

There was one Brownie who, for some reason, could not run so fast as the others, and, after tumbling along a few minutes, trying to keep up with the procession, he dropped down on a dan¬ delion blossom and caught his breath. After a while he said aloud:

“There is no use for me to try. The others are so much more clever than I, they will find all the strange and curious things before I even get started. I might just as well curl up somewhere, and sleep the day away as usual. But, then, what is it our king is always saying—‘You do not know what you can do until you try! ’ And, oh, what a prize to try for!

“ Let me see,” he went on, “ how did the king’s promise run ? This was it.

— ‘You are all to come here at the close of the day and tell of the strange and curious things that you have seen, and the one who brings in the best account shall be given the power of understanding human speech.’

“ Oh, dear! if I could gain that prize, and learn to understand humans when they talk, I might grow wise, and some day, when I am old and staid, may be made king! ”

The Brownie gave a sigh that made the dandelion blossom rock back and forth, and went on talking to himself:

“But, now, the other Brownies are all out of sight. I dare say that even while I have been sitting here, mourn¬ ing and moping, they have seen more things than I shall find in the whole day.

“So it is you, Miss Formica. How glad I am!”

How I do wish I were clever like the others! But I am always behind in everything,” and he sighed again.

“Oh, come, now,” said a soft voice near him, “what sort of a chap are you, to be sighing like that on this beautiful summer day?”

The Brownie looked all about him —up at the big trees and down at the soft earth — yet saw not a living crea¬ ture. But, presently, from under the dandelion blossom, a little brown ant darted quickly.

“Ho! ho!” laughed the Brownie in great glee, “ so it is you, Miss Formica. How glad I am! I must confess I was really frightened at first. I could not imagine who was hanging around here watching me. Since it is a friend and not a foe, I’ll say, ‘good-morning’ and ‘welcome’ both at once.”

“Well,” Miss Formica answered, “I am a friend to more creatures than are friendly to me, I fear. But, now, do explain why you were sighing so pit¬ eously. I did not suppose that things ever went wrong in the Brownie world.”

“That shows how little you know about us,” the Brownie said, “I believe living is a troublesome piece of busi¬ ness to every one. You see, even a Brownie cannot make everything go his way.”

He then went on to tell of the royal promise.

“Why, that is a very easy matter,” cried the ant, “the world is full of strange and interesting things. All you have to do is to keep yonr eyes and ears open.”

“That sounds all right, Miss For¬ mica,” retorted the Brownie, a little impatiently, “but I have been sitting here on this dandelion for a long, long time, and not a living creature spoke to me until you happened along. To be sure, the birds are flying all around, but they are too far away and too busy singing to help me out. A chipmunk and a gopher passed by, too, but you know they are always in such a hurry that one never gets any good out of them. Besides, I do not believe there is anything so very wonderful in this dull wood, and I do not know where else to look.”

“Do you know,” the ant observed mildly, “as you sit up there on the dandelion you remind me of some hu¬ mans that I have seen.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the Brownie jumping to the ground, and in his de¬ light dancing around the little ant, “do you really mean that? That is the nicest thing I have ever had said to me. It is so fine to be a human.”

“Is it?” asked the ant sharply. “Well, that depends. There are many kinds of humans, you must know, and I would rather be a little brown ant than to be like some kinds. ”

“Oh, dear, are they not all alike— great, splendid, wonderful creatures?” asked the Brownie in a trembling voice. “ Indeed they are not! and the ones

The Hollow in the Slump

that you remind me of are those who sit down and whine all the time about their hard luck, just as you sat on the dandelion and thought there was nothing in the world but birds, and gophers, and chipmunks, because nothing else came your way! What you must do, is to start out and find something interesting.”

“ How wise you are! ” murmured the Brownie, who was beginning to feel ashamed of himself.

“Yes, I once heard a human say that a very wise man had put into a book—”

“ What is a book ? ” interrupted the Brownie quickly.

“ Books are things that humans carry about with them a great deal. They will often sit for hours looking at them.”

“What for?”

“They call it ‘reading,’ I believe. Well, this wise man put into a book, though I am sure I don’t know how he did it, some words running like this:

‘ Go to the ant, thou sluggard, consider her ways, and be wise.’”

“That sounds all right. I don’t know whether I am a sluggard or not, for I have never heard of one before ■ but I have certainly come to the ant; and now you must tell me where to find something interesting. I must confess, Miss Formica, I should not mind seeing a great deal of you, for I long to be wise.”

“Wo matter about that, now, but if you really wish to see something curi¬ ous and interesting, come with me.”

The ant darted away, and the Brownie’s fat little legs easily kept up with her, although he had but two, while she had six. Soon they came to a big oak stump.

“Now,” said the ant, “that stump has been there ever since I can re¬ member. Climb to the top of it, and tell me what you see.”

“Aren’t you coming, too?” asked the Brownie, as he pulled himself quickly to the top of the stump.

“Oh, no,” was the answer, “I have been up there more times than I can count, and I have a great deal to do this morning.”

“Well,” declared the Brownie, impatiently, “1 don’t understand why you should wish to come up here; there is nothing to see, nothing at all.”

“Are you sure? Now, be careful,” cautioned the ant.

“Of course I am sure. What are my eyes for? I don’t see why you made me climb up a rough stump like this. Of course, if there were any¬ thing up here, it would not be so bad, but, I have torn my handsome new cobweb stockings just for the sake of looking at a stump with a hollow in it.”

“Oh, then, you do see something, after all. Well, if there is a hollow in the stump, what is in the hollow?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” answered the Brownie, in a disgusted tone.

“If there is nothing there, then, suppose you sit down in the hollow.”

“Hot much! ” retorted the Brownie, “ there is some dirty water in it.”

“Oh, I thought you said there was nothing in it. Well, you sit there on the edge of the stump and watch the dirty water. If you stay there long enough, you will have something pretty fine to tell your king to-night. So now, good-by, I cannot spend any more time with you,” and away Miss Formica ran.

The Brownie called after her with all his might. She paid no attention to him, but ran on faster and faster until her six nimble legs had carried her completely out of sight.

The Brownie gave another sigh, and this time it was so heavy that it ruffled the water in the hollow of the stump. He then amused himself by watching it closely, to see it grow calm again. When, at last, it was perfectly still, without a ripple on its surface, he was surprised to see something moving about in its clouded depths. A closer look then showed him that on the sur¬ face of the water also were a number of queer looking slim brown things.

“ Well,” he said aloud, and at the same time he went nearer to the edge of the water, “I have never seen any¬ thing like you. What are you, any way?”

“Have you ever seen any thing like me?” he heard a low, humming voice ask.

The Brownie looked around at the creature which stood near him.

“I should say I have!” he replied crossly. “Why, you are nothing but a plain every-day mosquito that can be seen and heard anywhere,” and he moved to the edge of the stump as though about to jump down.

“I am Madam Culex, if you please,” said the mosquito with much dignity. “You know every one likes to be called by his or her proper name.”

“ Certainly, certainly,” admitted the Brownie in a little less disagreeable tone, “I am not in the least particular as to what I call you, but I am inter¬ ested in the little creatures in the water there. They are decidedly uncommon, while you are quite too common to awaken even a passing interest in my mind.”

“Now, don’t get saucy, Mr. Brownie,” retorted the mosquito sharply, “for I must tell you that those same little beings in the water are my very near relatives.”

“How can that be?” asked the Brownie, “they don’t resemble you in the least.”

“That is true, and yet I was once just as they are. In fact, many of those creatures are my own offspring, my babies, you may say.”

“Now, that really is interesting,” said the Brownie, moving closer to the mosquito, and looking her over very carefully. “ Miss Formica said that I should find something here worth telling to the king, and she certainly was right. But, if you don’t mind my ask¬ ing questions, how many of those tiny creatures are your offspring?”

“Well, I only laid about three hun¬ dred eggs here.”

“Three hundred!” cried the Brownie with a gasp, “ why, that seems almost impossible, and yet you speak of it as though it were not much of a thing to do.”

“It is not, for many female mosqui¬ toes lay four hundred eggs at a sitting.”

“ Dear me! ” exclaimed the Brownie, “no wonder there are so many of you.”

“Yes, and if it were not for the fact that our lives are short there would soon be no room in the world for anything but mosquitoes.”

“And did you lay your eggs here in the hollow of the stump when there was water in it ? ”

“Yes; we always lay our eggs in stagnant water.”

“I should think they would sink into the water and be lost.”

“Oh, no. We do not lay one little egg by itself; quite the contrary. We fasten all the eggs together with a sticky stuff that we have, and they float around on the water like a tiny boat, until they hatch out into larvae.”

“Yes, yes,” said the Brownie quickly, “ I have heard of those things. So, you have larvae, too ? ”

“Yes, those funny brown squirming things are the mosquito larvae. Hu¬ mans call them ‘wigglers.’”

“That is a good name for them,” said the Brownie, looking down at the water, “and if you should lay your eggs in the dry ground, I suppose these wigglers would die as soon as hatched.”

“ That is exactly what would happen. They cannot live out of water, any more than can one of those things called fish; you have heard of them, I suppose ? ”

“Oh, yes. But why don’t you put your eggs in running water ? ”

“It would not be so warm. Be¬ sides, the eggs would not hatch, if car¬ ried along on a current.”

“ Then, I suppose if you should lay some eggs late in the autumn, and the water should freeze, that would spoil the eggs ? ”

“No, indeed; they would be per¬ fectly safe in their frozen state, and they would hatch on the first warm spring day. You may always know, when you see or hear mosquitoes early in the spring, that they are from the eggs that were laid the autumn before.”

Chapter II “ Wigglers ” And “ Tumblers ”

You may be sure the Brownie was all interest now. He had quite forgot¬ ten how dull he had thought the world.

“How very strange!” he exclaimed when Madam Culex had finished telling him about spring mosquitoes. “ I have always supposed that freezing killed everything. I am very sure it would kill me, and I have heard that it kills humans. ”

“Humans!” cried the mosquito scornfully, “it does not take much to kill one of them, I can tell you! Why, they are hurt as easily as can be. If one or two of my family get after them, they will do everything in their power to kill us, and half a dozen of us can drive them away from almost any place, no matter how fine a time they are otherwise having.”

“That is strange, isn’t it?” said the Brownie, thoughtfully, “if I were as big as a human, I don’t believe I should mind a little creature like you.”

“Well, they do mind us,” said the mosquito, buzzing proudly. “ They will run from us very quickly. Oh, it is such fun to see them scamper out of our way! Of course, they are always trying to kill us, but they have a hard time catching us. The male mosquito is not so quick as the female, but as he never makes any noise, and also never stings as the female does, he is not often killed.”

“Wrigglers” and “ Tumblers”

“But, please tell me, Madam Culex, how long ago you laid your eggs in this stagnant water.”

“That is a question that I cannot answer, for I do not know whether the wigglers or the other creatures that are swimming about are my offspring. You can see a difference in them, can you not ?”

“ Why, yes. I thought those others were only bits of wood. What do you call them 1 ”

“They are sometimes called ‘tumblers,’ but they are the pupae of the mosquito.”

“You are very wonderful creatures, certainly,” the Brownie observed, “but what makes the wigglers put their heads down under the water and their tails out of it ? ”

“The tubes with which they breathe are in their tails, so they put their tails out of the water to get the air.”

“ Do they eat anything ? ”

“Of course they do. Come close to the water’s edge. Now perhaps you can see their round, flat heads with the two brown eyes. Then, too, you can see the mouth with its tufts of hair on each side of it. Is all this plain to you?”

“Quite so, now that you have told me it is there; but I must confess that I did not see it before.”

“ So you see what it is to have good eyes. If you hadn’t any better ones than the poor, miserable humans have, you could not see all those things at all.”

“ Dear me! you make me feel al¬ most glad that I am not a human.”

“But, now,” Madam Culex went on, “watch, the two tufts of hair. You will notice that they move quickly, and as they do so they cause small currents of water to flow into their mouths.”

“Yes, but that is only water. They cannot live without food, can they ? ”

“ Of course not. But there are tiny creatures in the water, and bits of plants, too small for even your eyes to discover, and all of these give them plenty of food. ”

The Brownie stood for several min¬ utes watching the water, and suddenly he exclaimed:

“Oh, look! what is happening to that wiggler ? ” He pointed to one that seemed to be turning itself wrong side out.

“He is changing his skin,” Madam Culex answered quietly, “just as you go to the Brownie factory and buy a new coat. The larvae could not be ex¬ pected to wear the same skin all the time; he outgrows the one he has, and so he throws it off and there is a nice new one underneath. ”

“How often does he do that ?” “About once a week.”

“That is a good deal oftener than I get a new coat. I think Mr. Wiggler is very extravagant about his clothes. ” “Ho matter,” said the old mosquito, “ since they neither make them nor buy them.”

The Brownie now turned his atten¬ tion to the pupae and began to make remarks about them.

“ Why, see it swim! ” he exclaimed, as one of the pupae, by bending its body and then straightening it again, moved itself through the water. “ But do tell me how the larvae got to this state, and how long they will stay so ? ” the Brownie begged.

“ After the larva had changed its skin three times, the fourth change brought it to the pupa stage, and when it changes again, which will be in about a week from the time it became a pupa, it will come out a beautiful insect like myself.” Madam Culex hummed proudly.

“I cannot see that any of the pupae are eating,” the Brownie said now.

“No, they don’t eat in this stage; they just live and breathe and swim.”

“What fun!” exclaimed the Brownie. “If I were a mosquito I should want to be a pupa always.”

“ Indeed, you would not; you would be longing for something else all the while, just as you are now. You are not satisfied with talking to and under¬ standing the speech of every living creature, except the humans, but you want to understand them too, and should you be lucky enough to get that gift you would immediately wish for something more.”

“There will be nothing left to long for, if that wish is granted,” said the Brownie. “But to come back to the poor pupa that doesn’t eat—what does he do with his stomach ? ”

He has none yet; the stomach ana

“ Wrigglers ” and “ Tumblers ”

all the other organs for the perfect mosquito are slowly growing while it is in this quiet state.”

“ But what is that strange thing over there?” exclaimed the Brownie. “It looks like a pupa, but—oh, Madam Culex, what can be the matter ? The top of the skin is opening ! ”

“Yes, yes! ” returned the mosquito, also growing much excited; “watch closely, now, it is coming out; there will soon be another mosquito.”

“Oh,” cried the Brownie, jumping up and down in his delight, “Now I can see the body of the little creature is a different color from the outside shell.”

“ Of course,” said Madam Culex, “ for it is casting off its old skin. It will not need it much longer. Now, watch; do you see its head coming out ? ”

“Yes, and what a wonderful thing to see! I don’t believe any other Brownie will find anything half so strange as this.”

By this time the head and forepart of the pupa were well out of the case, and were held erect like the mast of a ship.

“Now the poor little being has to move very carefully,” said Madam Culex, “because if it should happen to upset the skin, which looks just like a boat with a tall mast, it would be drowned in the water. For, you see, the tiny creature at this stage is neither a pupa, carefully enwrapped, nor a mosquito, with wings with which to fly.”

“Yes, I see,” said the Brownie. “I have heard that it is not wise to try to be two things at once. There was a Brownie who wanted to be a fairy and a Brownie too, and when—”

“Look, look,” Madam Culex in¬ terrupted. “Never mind your sermon. Watch this wonderful little creature. Do you see it is drawing the rest of its body slowly out of its shell ? See how careful it is not to upset its little boat. Now, wasn’t that pretty well done?’’ she exclaimed, as the young insect stood upright in the big end of the case or boat.

“If a big breeze should blow against it now, it would fall over and be drowned,” the mosquito went on, “for, you see, it has not found either its wings or its legs yet.”

“But, look, Madam Culex!” cried the Brownie. “It has found its fore¬ legs; there they come,—yes, yes, and now there are the others,” he added.

“Yes, poor little new mosquito,” said Madam Culex; “it will soon be safe from all danger.”

They watched breathlessly while the new mosquito planted its fore-feet carefully on the water, then brought its other feet out of the case, and daintily balanced itself.

“Its wings will dry off presently,” said Madam Culex, and almost as she spoke the new creature spread its beautiful gauzy wings, waved them a few times as though trying them, then soared above the water and was soon out of sight. The old mosquito hummed away to herself softly.

The new mosquito planted its fore-feet carefully on the water

“Another mosquito made happy,” she said after a while.

“Yes, and a few more humans made unhappy,” said the Brownie.

“They can stand it,” said the mos¬ quito sharply, “they don’t have any mercy on us, I tell you.”

“How glad I shall be when I can be around among them and know just what they are saying!”

“You will not be any happier; that is, if they say as mean things about you as they do about me.”

“But I will not annoy them,” per¬ sisted the Brownie; “ you know I can¬ not sting.”

“No, but you will find that there will be something about you that they do not like, they are so unreasonable.

“ Wrigglers ” and “ Tumblers ”

They even object to my low singing, and I am sure there is no sound more beautiful.”

“ Perhaps they would not mind your song if they did not know that you intend to get their blood.”

“What is the use of their being so stingy with their blood ? Goodness knows they have more than they need. But you will find out what cruel crea¬ tures they are.”

“But since they cannot see me or hear me, they cannot blame me even for the things that I do.”

“But they will blame you for things you have never thought of doing. Take my advice and stay away from them; you don’t need them as I do, and as many others of the Diptera do.”

“And who are the Diptera?” asked the Brownie.

“They are the great race to which I belong; the word means two-winged, and all the insects with two wings be¬ long to this race. There are many different families in it, and each family has ways and habits of its own. The common house fly belongs to the same family. As they love the society of the humans, you might learn a great deal by talking to one of them, they could tell you something about the cruelty of the human race. But, now, I must go. I am glad that we met, but, remember, my parting advise to you is, keep away from the humans. ”

“ Well, ” said the Brownie, “ I can¬ not help feeling sorry for them, after

“higglers” and “Tumblers”

all, when I remember what a hard time they will have when all the wigglers and tumblers in this water are changed into mosquitoes, so if I can help them I will.”

The mosquito gave a happy buzz. “Much you can do!” she laughed. “Why, just think of it, every female in that pool of water will lay about four hundred eggs, and in three weeks’ time the eggs will all be hatched out and that many more mosquitoes ready to lay more eggs. I am afraid you will be rather busy, looking after the poor hu¬ mans ! ”

And singing her merry song, away she went, leaving the Brownie alone beside the pool of water. He looked after her a moment and then exclaimed:

“But I know what I can do. I snail get the rest of the Brownies to help me, and we can throw away all the stagnant water. Then, I should like to know where the mosquitoes will be! ”

Chapter III

The Brownie jumped off the stump, intending to hunt up his friends at once and carry out his plans. He ran on a long way, until he came out of the woods, without seeing a single Brownie. Suddenly, he remembered that they were all far off looking for strange and curious things. He threw himself down on a piece of velvety grass and said aloud:

“It’s no use. I couldn’t get one of them to help me to-day. It is a pretty big task to dip up and pour away all the stagnant water; I could never, never do it alone. I shall just have to

The Brownies’ Quest wait, I suppose. How I do wish I were not so small!”

At this moment a huge butterfly with bright spots on its wings alighted on a showy blosson near him.

“How do you do Madam Butterfly,” he exclaimed. “I am so glad to see you! ”

“But I heard you wishing you were not so small, and I am sure I cannot make you any larger. What a discon¬ tented creature you must be. How, I never wish to be anything except what I am.”

“How happy you must be!”

“So I am, and there is no reason why you should not be just as happy.”

“But wait till you hear my troubles ” said the Brownie. He then told about the king’s promise, and about his own wish to help the humans, and the impossibility of carrying out his kind plans.

“I thought the king’s promise was so grand, but, now, it is the very thing that keeps me from carrying out my plans,” he said mournfully.

“See here, little fellow,” the butter¬ fly said kindly, “you must learn to do the things that you can do. If you can¬ not find the Brownies to-day, you can hunt up curious things just as you have been doing, then get your Brownies together to-morrow and go to work on the stagnant water.”

“Well, I declare, Madam Butterfly,” exclaimed the Brownie joyfully, “that is good advice. You are almost as wise as the ant.”

“Thank you,” the butterfly said, “but I wish you would call me by my right name, Madam Papilio.”

“‘Madam Papilio’! Is that your name ? Why, I am sure I have heard a very different name for the butterflies; something about ‘Lepi,’ if I remember correctly.”

“Yes,” replied the butterfly, slowly opening and shutting her wings, “you have the first part correct. We are called Lepidoptera, but that is only our race name. There are many different families of us, more than I could possi¬ bly name. My family name is Papilio, or the swallow-tailed butterfly.”

“Well, I must say you are very handsome.”

“Yes, our family is one of the most beautiful of all the Lepidoptera.”

“I never happened to see one just like you before. In fact, I have always seen the members of your family at night, when your beautiful colors did not show so plainly.”

“ Oh, but you are wrong there, my wise Brownie. You nave never seen one of the Papilio family at night. You are thinking of our first cousins, the moths. They fly at night, and should you happen to see one of them in the daytime, he would be settled quietly somewhere, with his wings folded down flat. They cannot hold their wings up as I am holding mine.”

“Oh, is that the only difference be¬ tween you? I suppose as the moth flies at night they are not so handsome as the butterflies.”

“On the contrary, there are some beautiful moths, although they are not so generally showy as the butterflies.”

“Are there any other differences between you?”

“Yes, their antennae are shaped very differently from those of the but¬ terfly.”

“Well, I must confess, I should like to have my clothes painted as brightly as yours.”

“It is not paint at all that makes my clothes so beautiful. The coloring that you admire so much is caused by the tiniest scales of different forms over¬ lapping one another. I was told once by a wise old owl, though I am sure I don’t know how she found it out, that we are called Lepidoptera because that means a scale and a wing. Sometimes, yon know, those wicked things called boys, catch us, and when they have touched us with their great clumsy fingers the scales or colors rub off and our beauty is gone.”