Books: Uncle Robert\'s Geography (Uncle Robert\'s Visit, V.3)
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Francis W. Parker and Nellie Lathrop Helm >> Uncle Robert\'s Geography (Uncle Robert\'s Visit, V.3)
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Susie's lambs came straight to her side and began to lick her hands and
sniff about her dress.
"They think I have something for them," she said. "Let me have some
salt, please, Donald."
Filling each of her hands with salt, she held them out, and the lambs
eagerly licked it from the little round palms.
"The cows are down by the creek, uncle," said Donald. "Shall we go to
see them? You must see my calf."
"Come on," cried Susie, and began to run as fast as she could go.
The little lambs, always ready for a play, skipped about her. How
merrily Susie did laugh as they ran ahead and then turned around with
their noses to the ground and their tails in the air, waiting for her to
come and catch them!
"They always want me to play with them," she said, quite out of breath,
when Uncle Robert and Donald caught up.
"What beautiful cows!" exclaimed Uncle Robert as the little Jerseys
lifted their shy faces from the grass to look at them. "I never saw
finer ones."
"That is my calf," said Donald, pointing it out with much pride, "and
that one over there is Frank's. The only way we can tell them apart is
that Frank's has more black on its face than mine has."
[Illustration: Donald's calf.]
"Toot-toot-t-o-o-t!" The sound came from the house.
"There's the horn!" exclaimed Susie. "It must be dinner time."
"So soon?" said Uncle Robert. "How quickly the morning has gone!"
"I tell you I'm hungry," said Donald. "I didn't think of it before, but
I'm almost starving."
CHAPTER V.
IN THE FLOWER GARDEN.
In the afternoon they all went into the garden. Donald and Mrs. Leonard
began at once to set out the tomato plants that had been started in a
box. Susie and Uncle Robert walked about, planning where the flower
seeds should be planted.
"The verbenas are in this bed," said Susie. "I had them last year. I
wish they would begin to come up. Don't you think, uncle, it will be
nice to have the mignonette in with them?"
"Yes," replied Uncle Robert, "but where are your nasturtiums?"
"I haven't any nasturtiums," said Susie. "I wish I had. Jennie Wilson's
mother had them last year. They bloomed all summer."
"We can send for some seeds and get them in time to plant," said Uncle
Robert.
"Oh, thank you, uncle," exclaimed Susie. "How nice! I'll save this big
bed for nasturtiums, and the bachelor's buttons can go over there."
[Illustration: Poppies]
"The nasturtiums would do better by the fence and the porch," said Uncle
Robert. "They like to climb."
"All right," said Susie; "then we can have this bed for something else."
"Have you any poppies?" asked Uncle Robert, smiling. "Poppies are my
favorite flowers."
"Are they, uncle? Then we'll have poppies in this bed."
"Thank you, dear," replied Uncle Robert, taking out his notebook. "We'll
send for the poppy seeds, too."
"I think that finishes the beds," said Susie. "Let me see," and, walking
down the path, she pointed out where each kind of flower was to grow.
"You might draw it now," said Uncle Robert; "then we'll make no
mistake."
"Oh, goody!" cried Susie. "That's what I'll do. Wait until I get a
pencil and paper."
"Here is a pencil," said Uncle Robert, taking one from his pocket, "and
perhaps this old envelope will do to draw it on."
But Susie thought not. "It's too small," she said. "I'll get a nice
piece of paper in a minute."
Away she ran to the house, and soon came back with a large sheet of
fresh white letter paper in one hand and Frank's geography in the other.
"I'm going to draw my garden," she called to Donald and her mother,
holding up the paper for them to see.
"I'll make the paths first," she said, laying the paper on the
geography, and taking the pencil from Uncle Robert. "Then I can put in
the beds afterward."
When the paths were drawn, Susie named the beds and marked them off on
the paper.
"Please write the names for me, Uncle Robert," she said. "I can't spell
all the big words."
"I will write them on this paper," said Uncle Robert, "and when you see
how they look you can write them on your plan."
"Oh, yes," said Susie, "that will be the nicest way."
"See, mother," cried Susie, running to her, "this is my garden. Now I
know just what is to be in every bed."
[Illustration: Susie's garden.]
"Where are you going to get poppies?" asked Donald, looking at the plan
on the paper.
"Uncle Robert is going to send for the seed," answered Susie. "He likes
poppies best of all the flowers. We are going to have nasturtiums, too.
They are to grow by the porch and the fence."
"That will be fine, dear," said Mrs. Leonard. "What a beautiful garden
we shall have!"
"I can hardly wait," cried Susie, dancing along the walk. "Come, uncle,
let's plant what seeds we have now."
"Do we need to do anything to the ground," asked Uncle Robert, "before
the seeds are put in?"
"Only rake over the top a little," said Susie, taking up her rake and
going to work. "It has been spaded. See how light and fine it is
underneath! Ugh! I wish the old worms would keep out!"
"Don't be too hard on the worms," said Uncle Robert. "They are your best
helpers."
"I don't see how that is, uncle," said Susie, looking up in surprise.
"You just said the soil was light and fine," said Uncle Robert. "Don't
you know you have to thank the worms for keeping it so?"
"Are you sure, uncle?" asked Susie. "I thought the worms ate the
plants."
"The earthworms never eat the plants," said Uncle Robert. "They eat the
soil, and so keep it worked over. It is the cutworm that eats the
plants."
Just then Donald came over from the vegetable garden.
"Why, you've only just begun," he said. "We're all through. Don't those
tomato plants look nice?"
"Well," said Susie, "you didn't draw your garden. That took a long time,
didn't it, uncle? You rake those beds for me, Don, while I put the seeds
in."
"I'd just as soon," said Donald, taking the rake. "What goes here?"
"Mignonette," said Susie. "When any one wants to know about my garden
now, they can look at the drawing."
Uncle Robert smiled.
"What makes you think you'll have mignonette there?" he asked, as Susie
marked a little furrow with a stick in the soft, warm soil.
"Why, these are mignonette seeds," she replied. "I gathered them myself.
Don't you think they'll grow, uncle?"
"Certainly I do," replied Uncle Robert.
"It would be a pretty dead seed," said Donald, "that wouldn't grow in
this soil."
"Are seeds alive?" asked Uncle Robert, smiling.
"Why, I--I don't know," said Donald, looking puzzled. "I never thought
about it. I just said that. They don't look like it, that's a fact, but
they surely wouldn't grow if they were dead, would they?"
"Do all seeds grow in the same way?" asked Uncle Robert.
"I never thought about it," said Donald.
"Neither did I," said Susie. "I just know if I plant mignonette,
mignonette will grow; and if I plant sweet peas, sweet peas will grow.
That's all I ever thought about it."
"Would you like to know?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Oh, yes," said Susie.
"How can we?" asked Donald. "The seeds are in the ground, and we can't
see them."
"If Susie is willing to dig up one of her sweet peas," said Uncle
Robert, "perhaps it will tell us what it has been doing since she
planted it last week."
"Oh, yes," said Susie. "See if you can find one, Don. I put lots in."
Down on their knees went Susie and Donald, and began digging in the
soil.
"Here is one," said Donald, "just ready to come up, and another close to
it. The tip of it must have been through. See, it is green."
"Wouldn't it be green in the ground?" asked Susie, looking closely at
the tiny plant.
"Why, no," said Donald. "Things are never green when they're covered up.
It's light that makes things green. Don't you know how yellow the grass
gets if a board lies on it, and what yellow stalks the potatoes have
when they sprout in the cellar? It must be the light that makes them
green."
"Oh, yes," said Susie. "But see how big that pea is! It's about twice as
big as it was when I planted it."
[Illustration: Sprouting pea.]
"See," said Donald, "the roots grow from the same place that the stem
does. I should think it would be better if one came from one side of the
pea, and one from the other."
"What becomes of the rest of the seed?" asked Uncle Robert.
"I don't know," said Susie. "Is it of any use?"
"It is of the greatest use," replied Uncle Robert. "The little pea plant
couldn't live without it. It is its food that the mother sweet pea
gathered last summer from the soil and air, and stored away in the
little round ball for her baby to feed on until it should be big enough
to get its own food."
"Do you really mean, uncle," cried Susie, with shining eyes, "that the
sweet peas I have planted in that bed are the children of those I had
last year?"
"Why not?" asked Uncle Robert, with a smile.
"I never thought of it before," said Susie, looking at the tiny plant in
her hand; "but I like it. It seems just like a family."
"And that's what it is," said Uncle Robert.
"Don't you think this baby had better go back to bed?" said Susie,
making a deep hole in the ground.
"Wait a moment, Susie," said Uncle Robert.
"Suppose we take it for a visit to the beans, and see if they grow like
it."
So they went to the vegetable garden, where they found a great many
plants, each with two strong, thick leaves sticking through the soil.
Some were quite green and showed a tiny shoot between them. Others were
yellow, with only the tips turned green.
"Dig one up, Don," said Susie, "and let's see if it is like the baby
pea."
Donald pulled one up, but no bean was to be seen. The stem grew straight
into the ground, ending with a little bunch of roots.
"Where's the bean?" asked Susie.
"These two leaves must be the bean," said Donald. "Don't they look like
it?" He took a bean from his pocket and held it close to the little
plant.
"Well, I never!" cried Susie. "If those two leaves aren't just the bean
split open! Are they any good that way, uncle?"
"Yes, indeed," said Uncle Robert, smiling.
"They feed the little bean just as the pea does. But they do even more.
What do you think they will do when the sun goes down and the air gets
cool?"
[Illustration: Sprouting bean.]
"Oh, I know." said Donald. "I've seen them lots of times. They just shut
together tight." "And that keeps the little bud you see in there as warm
as you are in your bed."
"Isn't that wonderful?" said Susie. "Why, uncle, it's just as if they
could think!"
"The leaves drop off after a while," said Donald. "I often see them
lying on the ground."
"Yes," said Uncle Robert. "When the plant is strong enough to take care
of itself, their work is done."
"Are there any other plants that make leaves out of the seeds, uncle?"
asked Donald.
"Oh? yes," replied Uncle Robert. "Squashes and pumpkins do, and many
others. Some have more perfect leaves than these. Let us look at the
morning glories by the porch."
[Illustration: Morning glory.]
"They come up every year by themselves," said Susie.
She ran to her garden, saying, "I'm going to put this pea-baby to bed
again. Do you think it will grow, uncle?"
"It may, but it is not good for it to be out of bed too long."
"I'll put a stick by it," said Susie, "so I can watch it. Good-by,
baby," giving the ground a little pat; "go to sleep."
Then she ran after Uncle Robert and Donald.
"How thick the morning glories are!" said Donald. "Some of them have
several leaves on, but here is one with only two."
"They don't look as the bean leaves do," said Susie. "The beans are so
thick! These have real leaves."
"Yes," said Uncle Robert, "and if you could see them in the seed, you
would see these leaves all curled up in their hard coat."
"This one is just putting its head through the ground," said Susie, "and
it has part of the shell on it yet."
"It looks as the little chickens do sometimes," laughed Donald, "when
they come out of the nest with a piece of the shell sticking to their
backs."
"That hard shell is a great protection to the tender plant as it works
its way up through the soil," said Uncle Robert.
"If these seed leaves are real leaves, uncle," asked Donald, "what feeds
the baby morning glories?"
"There is plenty of food in the seed around the leaves," said Uncle
Robert. "When the seed gets moist in the ground, it becomes so soft that
the plant can use it. Have you ever noticed when you were eating corn
the little hard bud that grows in each grain close to the cob?"
"Yes, uncle," answered Susie. "That is the sweetest part of the corn."
"That is the part," said Uncle Robert, "from which the new plant grows,
and all the rest of the grain is the food stored up for it."
"I wish we had some corn," said Susie, "so we could see it."
"I'll go and get some," said Donald.
"Oh, do, Don," said Susie, "and while he's gone, Uncle Robert, I can
plant the rest of my seeds. I have only a few left."
So Donald ran to the cornfield and Susie went to the garden. When he
came back she had finished, and they joined Uncle Robert on the piazza.
"The corn grows out of the side of the seed," said Donald. "See what a
big root it has for such a little plant!"
[Illustration: Sprouting corn.]
"How pretty those leaves are!" said Susie. "They look like two little
green feathers." "Some one else had the same thought, Susie," said Uncle
Robert. "Did you ever hear the story the poet Longfellow tells about how
the corn came to the Indians? You know it is called 'Indian corn.'"
"No, uncle," said Susie. "Do tell us."
So as they sat beside him on the piazza. Uncle Robert told the story of
Hiawatha and Mondamin.
"Hiawatha was a brave young Indian chief," began Uncle Robert, "who
wanted to help his people. He knew that there were times when they had
no food. In the winter the birds flew away. The 'big sea water,' as they
called the great lake, was frozen over, and they could catch no fish.
There were no wild berries in the woods.
"'Master of Life,' he cried,'must our lives depend on these things?'
"He was very unhappy. He could not eat. He lay in his wigwam, fasting
and praying for some good to come to his people.
"One evening as he lay watching the setting sun he saw a youth coming
toward him. His dress was green and yellow, and over his yellow hair he
wore a bright green plume.
"'The Master of Life has sent me,' said the youth. 'I am Mondamin. It is
only by hard labor Hiawatha, that you can gain the answer to your
prayer. Rise now, and wrestle with me.'
"Hiawatha was weak from fasting, but he did as Mondamin commanded. Until
the sun had set they wrestled together. Then Mondamin went away as
silently as he had come.
"A second time he came, and a third. Then he said: "'You have fought
bravely, Hiawatha. I shall come once more. You will conquer me. Then you
must take off my dress of green and yellow and my nodding plumes. Make a
bed in the soft warm earth for me to lie in. Let nothing come to disturb
me as I slumber. Only let the sunshine and the rain fall upon me. You
must watch beside me, Hiawatha, until my sleep is over.'
"Then he was gone.
"When they wrestled the next night it was as Mondamin had said. He was
conquered. Then, day after day, Hiawatha came and watched,
"'Till at length a small green feather
From the earth shot slowly upward.'"
"There it is," whispered Susie.
"Sh!" said Donald.
"Then another and another," continued Uncle Robert, "and before long the
corn was waving its long, green foliage in the sunshine.
"'It is Mondamin!' cried Hiawatha,'the friend of man, Mondamin!'"
"What a lovely story!" cried Susie as Uncle Robert finished. "I wish
Frank could have heard it."
"We'll find it in your mother's book of Longfellow's poems and let Frank
read it," said Uncle Robert.
"Let's tell him about the seeds first," said Donald. "He'll like it
better then."
[Illustration: A stalk of corn.]
CHAPTER VI.
SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW.
It was a busy time on the farm. Only when the day's work was over and
they were gathered in the sitting-room was there time for the long talks
with Uncle Robert that they all enjoyed so much.
"It's wonderful," said Mr. Leonard one evening, looking up from his
paper, "how fast the corn is growing. Even the late planting is coming
on."
"That's because the weather is so warm," said Donald.
"I wonder what makes it warm?" said Uncle Robert.
"Why, Uncle Robert," exclaimed Susie, "it's spring! That's what makes it
warm."
"But what makes it spring, little girl?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Why, it is always spring in May," said Susie.
"I know of a country where it is spring in September," replied Uncle
Robert.
"How can it be?" asked Susie. "I thought springtime always came in May."
"What makes us know that it is spring?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Oh, it gets warmer all the time. The birds come, things begin to grow,
and the flowers bloom."
"But what makes all this happen just now?"
"It's the sun," answered Donald from the floor, where he was playing
with his great St. Bernard dog, Barri. "You know it rises earlier and
sets later every day now than it did a while ago. It's hotter too."
"It goes higher at noon," said Frank. "In the middle of summer it is
almost straight over our heads, and in the winter it seems ever so much
farther to the south. I've often noticed that."
"So have I," said Donald. "And in the winter the shadows are longer than
they are in summer. It must be because the sun isn't so high up."
"Aren't shadows funny?" said Susie. "One day when I was coming in to
dinner, just for fun I tried to walk on my shadow, and I could step on
my head."
"I've done that lots of times," said Donald. "But it's a strange thing.
Sometimes I can step clear over my head--I mean in the shadow--and then
again I have to step on it."
"And when you jump," said Susie, "it spoils it. The shadow always jumps
too."
"What kind of weather was it when you had to jump to it?" asked Uncle
Robert.
"I don't remember," said Donald. "Would the weather make any
difference?"
"I remember," said Susie, "because one time when I was jumping that way
I fell down and was almost buried in the snow.
"Then it was winter, wasn't it?" asked Uncle Robert.
"It must have been," said Frank.
[Illustration: Shadow stick.]
"And since you told us that the shadows at noon tell why it is warmer in
summer than in winter I've been watching them. They get shorter all the
time." "How would you like to measure the shadows every day," said Uncle
Robert, "and see if you can find out when they are shortest and when
they are longest?"
"How can we?" asked Susie. "Shadows are so queer."
"Yes," said Uncle Robert, "shadows are queer, but, if we take one that
doesn't jump as yours does, don't you think we can measure it?"
"Of course we can," said Frank. "We can use the house. That always
stands still."
"The house might do," said Uncle Robert; "but wouldn't it be better to
have a shadow stick?"
"Where can we get one?" asked Donald.
"What is it made of?" asked Frank.
"It is like this," said Uncle Robert, taking paper and pencil from his
pocket. "There is one long piece of board, and one short one nailed to
the end--so," drawing it on the paper.
"Oh, that's easy enough made," said Donald. "We can do it ourselves
right here in the tool house."
"Let's make it to-morrow, Don," said Frank.
"It must be set up some place with the upright end turned toward the
south, so that just at noon the shadow of the short piece may fall
straight on the board. By drawing a line across the board at the top of
the shadow and marking the date on it, we can tell how the length of the
shadow changes."
"Uncle," asked Donald, "when it is winter here, is it summer in some
other part of the world?"
"Yes," was the reply, "and now that our summer is coming, the people
there are beginning to have winter."
"Then," said Frank, "when it gets cooler here in the fall it is growing
warmer there, and that would make their spring come in September,
wouldn't it? Do you see, Susie?"
[Illustration: Eskimo scene.]
"Yes," answered Susie, "but it seems all mixed up. I thought it was the
same as it is here all over the world."
"Oh, I didn't," said Donald. "I've read about countries where it is
summer all the time, and is so hot that the people don't do anything but
lie under the trees and sleep. And there are other countries where it is
winter all the time, and the people dress in furs and make their houses
of snow and ice. I read all about it in a book once, but it didn't tell
why it was so. I knew, of course, the sun had something to do with it."
"Why, you know, Don," said Frank, "we learned all that in our geography
at school."
"Yes," said Donald, "but I never thought about that in the geography as
meaning any real country."
"What did you think it meant?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Oh," said Donald, "just a lesson in the book."
"Well," said Frank, "I always thought it was some country, but I never
knew where. I didn't think much about it after I said the lesson."
"I should think not," said Uncle Robert, not sorry that the teacher had
gone away and the school had been closed.
"I wish when books tell things they'd tell why they're so," said Frank.
"Perhaps if we think about these things," said Uncle Robert, "we may be
able to answer some of the 'whys' for ourselves."
"We can tell by the thermometer just how warm it is every day," said
Susie, "but it won't tell us why."
"The shadow stick may help us there," said Uncle Robert.
"I am afraid I shall forget," said Donald.
"I have some little notebooks in my trunk," said Uncle Robert. "Suppose
I give you each one and let you write down what the thermometer and the
shadow stick say every day."
"What fun that'll be!" cried Susie. "When may we begin?"
"To-morrow morning, if you like," replied her uncle. "I will get the
books for you now."
He went away to his room, and soon returned with the notebooks.
"I'll tell you, uncle," said Frank as he thanked Uncle Robert for his
book, "how would it do for each of us to look at the thermometer at a
different time of the day?"
"The very thing!" replied Uncle Robert, well pleased. "You are always up
early, Frank, so suppose you look at six in the morning, Susie at twelve
o'clock, and Donald at six in the evening. How will that do? Then we
shall have the record for the whole day."
"I think it will be such fun!" said Susie. "I wonder if our books will
be very different."
"What makes you think they will be different?" asked Uncle Robert.
"It's always hotter at noon than it is at night or in the morning," said
Susie.
"Do you know," said Uncle Robert, "there are places all over the United
States where such records are kept? They are published, and I am to have
them sent to me every week."
"I wonder if ours will be like them," said Donald, turning over the
pages of his notebook.
"Even if they should be different." said Uncle Robert, "they may be just
as true."
"We'll get up early and start the shadow stick the first thing in the
morning," said Frank, "so as to have it ready by noon."
"How do you know when it is noon?" asked Uncle Robert.
"We look at the clock," said Susie.
"But noon by the clock is not always noon by the sun," replied Uncle
Robert.
"How can that be?" asked Donald.
"It is noon somewhere on the globe every minute of the twenty-four
hours," said Uncle Robert. "The sun is always setting and always rising
somewhere."
The children were puzzled.
"I don't see how that is," said Donald.
"Let us see if we can find out," said Uncle Robert. "Frank, you stand at
the east end of the room, Donald at the west, and Susie in the middle.
Now, we'll play that Frank is in New York, Susie here at home in
Illinois, and Donald in Denver. I'll take the lamp and be the sun. You
are shadow sticks, you know. Now watch the shadows, and see when they
point directly north."
Uncle Robert took the lamp and walked slowly from the east side of the
room.
"My shadow points north," said Frank as Uncle Robert passed him.
"Now mine does," said Susie.
"And mine last of all," said Donald.
Uncle Robert took out his watch. It was ten minutes past eight.
"That is Susie's time," he said. "Would it be the same in New York,
Frank?"
"I think it would be past that," said Frank, "but I don't know how
much."
"It is ten minutes past nine by the watch in New York," said Uncle
Robert.
"When would it be that time in Denver?" asked Donald.
"In an hour by the watch," said Uncle Robert, "but it would not be the
same by the sun."
"Then the watches don't tell the true time, do they?" said Frank.
"The sun's shadows give us the true time," said Uncle Robert. "We will
study the shadows, and by and by may learn how the watches and clocks
are regulated. But how do you think people told the time before they had
clocks?"
"It must have been by the sun," replied Frank.
"I can tell by the sun when it is noon," said Donald, "but I don't see
how any one can tell any other hour that way."
"How do you know when it is noon?"
"Why, the sun is highest at noon." said Donald. "and the shadows point
straight toward the north."
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