"What a queer beak, madam!" he remarked. " Quite a new pattern, isn"t it? I have seen no other bird with one like that.""I should think not," said the duck. "Besides, it is not abeak at all; it is a bill, and quite the latest fashion.""It looks very nice," said the little animal, gazing at it with his head on one side; "but, if you want to peck now, wouldn"t a pointed one--?""Oh, those pointed ones are so common! Every bird had one till I started this fashion. Now they are snapping these up. Some big black birds- swans, I think the fairy called them-insisted on having red ones. Very bad taste, I calledit. These are not for pecking at all. They are spoon-shaped, you see, for scooping up nice, soft mud, with worms and grubs in it."The very thought of them made the little animal"s mouth water and he hurried back to the fairy. "A b-b-bill, please, I want a b-b-bill," he stuttered, speaking very fast.
"Nonsense! You have bought nothing yet."
"I mean a bill like the duck"s, for scooping up the mud.""Very well," said the fairy.
"Here it is. Now, you will want feet to match, webbed feet for paddling and swimming in the water.""I am not so sure about those," said the little animal, looking at the webbed feet as they were being fastened on; but it was too late then to alter them.
" Now, feathers," went on the fairy; "what kind of feathers do you want-red, green, white, or grey?"" Oh, no, no!" cried the little creature. "Not feathers.I told you that I did not want to be a bird. Besides, you have given me four feet.""Dear me! So I have. Well, just make up your mind about the coat, while I attend to these emus."So the little animal went out again, and wandered about for a long time, looking carefully at all the coats. Wool was too hot, and the kangaroo"s fur would not do for the water, and the dog"s hair was too coarse. At last, he saw the verything-short, soft, and thick, and suited to water or land. "Sealskin, please. A coat of sealskin is what I should like,and a tail like the beaver"s, flat and useful for building whenI help my mate to make our nest."
"Nest!" gasped the fairy. "Did you say "nest"? What onearth do you want a nest for?"
"Why, for my mate to lay eggs in, of course," snapped the little animal. " What else do you suppose it would be for?""Um--! Well, there you are. But I must say you look avery funny mixture now you are finished."
" Not at all!" replied the little animal, in an offended tone. "I can swim like a duck. I can walk like a turtle. I can sleep in the mud like a frog. I can eat grubs and worms if I am in the water; and, when I go on land, I can--.""There, there! Never mind what else you can do. I amtrying to think of a name that will fit you."" Well, please don"t let it be any short, silly little name like dodo or dingo, but something long and fine.""The very thing !" cried the fairy. "Of course you are an ornithorhynchus."So the little animal became of some use after all, for, when they want to find out if boys and girls can spell, they just ask them to spell ornithorhynchus.
Author.-Unknown.
General Notes.-This is a fanciful story that tries to account for the strange points of the platypus, at which all the world has wondered. Here is a four-footed animal that has a beak like a bird, lays eggs like a reptile, and suckles its young like a mammal. Pick out the parts of the story that are fiction. Pick out the parts that are facts. A dodo is an extinct bird of Mauritius, an island in the Indian Ocean. Make up a fairy story to account for the lyre-bird"s tail.
Lesson 46
WHEAT
From the farm and from the homestead, from every Mallee town,To every port and harbour where the great white roads go down,Through all the sun-baked country, across the rolling plain,The golden wheat is moving, is moving once again.
They"re waiting in the river, they"re waiting on thetide,
They"re swinging out at anchor where the stately linersride;
They"re beating out the harbour "gainst squall and windand rain;
For the golden wheat is moving, is moving once again. The battered old wind-jammer that waits upon the wind, The rolling cargo steamer, her curl of smoke behind-Their noses point to homeward, the topsails creak and strain,For the golden wheat is moving, is moving once again.
They"re rolling up the Channel where the cliffs of Doverfrown,
They"re feeling through the fog banks to the port ofLondon town,
They"re turning to the Baltic, they"re turning south toSpain-
For the golden wheat is moving, is moving once again.
"Capel Boake" (pen-name of Miss Doris Kerr), in The AustralasianAuthor.-Miss Doris Kerr is a Melbourne lady, niece of the late Barcroft Boake, Australian poet who wrote Where the Dead Men Lie. Miss Kerr has contributed verse to many Australian magazines (do you remember "The Road to Dandenong"?) and is the author of two novels- Painted Clay and Romany Mark. Her work is simple, true, and sincere.
General Notes.-Where is the Maliee? How is the wheat brought tothe sea-board? What is a wind-jammer? To what countries does our Australian wheat go?
Suggestions for Verse-speaking.-Divide the class into three parts.
Each part speaks a line and then the whole class speaks the last line in each verse.
Lesson 47
THE BLACkBIRD: A LEGEND
Once upon a time the blackbird"s feathers were not black at all. In the early days of the world, his plumage was white, as pure and dazzling and brilliantly white as the untrodden snow.
One day, while flying through a wood, he saw a magpie very busy hiding something inside a hollow tree. He flew quietly up behind her, and saw, to his astonishment, that the hole in the tree was full of gold and diamonds and other precious jewels. " Where did you get those from?" asked the blackbird. " Tell me, that I may go and get some too."The magpie was very vexed that her secret had been discovered, but she did not dare refuse to grant the blackbird"s request, lest he should tell all the other birds of her hidden treasures.
