216 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[July, 
The Self-Important Grasshopper. 
“ A Grasshopper larger than a load of hay ! Monstrous I 
Why Mr. Artist, have you not made a great blunder?” 
Not too fast, young friends ; our artist is seldom caught 
napping, and even then he usually dreams something 
worth thinking about—let him speak for himself. He 
says the picture tells the old story of a grasshopper who 
happened to be upon a load of hay, when the horses 
coming to a soft spot in the meadow, stopped and seemed 
unable to draw it any further. The insect observing this, 
chirped out “ I see I add too much to the weight upon 
the wagon, and I will therefore jump off,” which he ac¬ 
cordingly did. Just then the driver whipped up the horses, 
and by a great effort they took tire load out of the mud, 
and went on easily. “ See,” said the grasshopper, “ how 
much I helped them, surely the farmer ought now be 
willing to give me pasture tire remainder of the Sum¬ 
mer.” The grasshopper in the picture is drawn of a size 
to show how' large he thought himself. Probably the 
artist was thinking of something besides grasshoppers 
when he drew that sketch. Perhaps he had lately seen 
some pert youngster, who thought himself of more im¬ 
portance than father, mother, and all the rest of the fam¬ 
ily, who was always ready to give his opinion and ad¬ 
vice, and who seemed to think the world could not very 
well move without him. Such characters are found 
among both young and old. The picture brings to mind 
an anecdote of a celebrated minister, who was on one 
occasion much annoyed by a busy, little, self-important 
man, who endeavored to draw him into a controversy. 
“ Sir,” said the little man, “ what sect do you think I be¬ 
long to.” “Judging from your size, and the noise you 
make, I should think you belonged to the in-sects,” replied 
the clergyman. If on some occasion any of you should 
begin to put on consequential airs, and some one present 
should pleasantly address you as Mr. Grasshopper, you 
will probably be reminded of this picture and its lesson, 
and be careful not to assume too much importance in pre¬ 
sence of those who happen to read the Agriculturist j 
and as their number is so large, it will be safer to always 
be modest and unassuming, especially as such deport¬ 
ment will make you welcome in any desirable society. 
I'oiiJo ami tlie Iflink. 
A. II. G. contributes the following to the Agriculturist: 
—Ponto was a faithful old dog; one of the good kind 
that never killed sheep, nor annoyed his neighbors by 
sneaking around their doors. He was very jealous too 
about liis master’s premises. Minks and muskrats found 
no home around the “Hillside” goose pond. He was 
led to regard them as his special enemies. One made 
holes in the dam, and the other destroyed the ducks and 
goslings. When Ponto barked, we always knew that 
there was something wrong. One day, however, while 
all were busily engaged in making hay, his well known 
call was heard. There was danger of a thunder storm, 
and no one could be spared to answer it at the time. For 
more than half an hour we listened to his prolonged bow- 
wow-wow. This at length ceased, and in a few minutes 
was changed into a most piteous and smothered howl. 
All said that the old dog had found something, but no one 
could go and inquire what it was. Noon came and then 
at intervals only could we hear his smothered cry. The 
boys could stand it no longer, and when the dinner hour 
sounded, Dan. and Henry went down to the pond. Guided 
by the wailing yelps they soon found Ponto, his head 
and fore-shoulders buried in a hole. As the boys came 
down and he heard their footsteps reverberating over 
him, his tail assumed its 
accustomed wag, and a 
little motion of his hind 
feet showed that he was 
making an effort to draw 
himself out. This how¬ 
ever, was only followed 
by a more piteous howl. 
“ What could be the mat¬ 
ter ?” Henry said—“ some- 
tiling must hold him. Per¬ 
haps an otter.” When¬ 
ever they attempted to pul! 
him out lie only howled 
the louder. Dan. at length 
commenced digging down 
with a stick, where he 
judged Ponto’s nose would 
be. He had gone nearly 
through, and was pushing 
away the earth carefully, 
when the dog,- bleeding 
and covered with froth 
and blood, drew himself 
out and fell almost ex¬ 
hausted into the water. 
There was no mark about 
his jaws, but on opening his mouth, his tongue was 
found bitten through in the center, about an inch from 
the end. The conclusion at which we arrived was 
tliis. He had found the mink that had destroyed so 
many goslings, and driven him into a hole. The boys 
knew that it was a mink by the smell. Becoming 
tired of barking when no one answered, he determined to 
sit down and watch his prisoner. For this purpose he 
stretched himself out half way in-the hole that he had 
dug, panting with heat, and his tongue hanging out of his 
mouth. While in this position, the mink watching his 
chance, seized him. For the remainder of his life poor 
Ponto bore the marks of that unhappy day. Oflen have 
we distended his jaws with pride to show the scar. He 
never barked afterward, however, without receiving an 
answer ; nor did he ever faii'to do his duty when a mink 
showed himself on the premises. 
A Oiswcli-g-oing' I>og. 
A gentleman on Long Island owned a dog that regu¬ 
larly accompanied the family to church on Sunday, and 
also to the meeting held on Wednesday evening. If, 
however, for any reason none of them attended the ser¬ 
vice, the dog would start by himself, take his place 
where his master was accustomed to sit, and remain 
until the benediction was pronounced. This occurred 
rather frequently one season, and the sexton thinking his 
room better than his company, one day kicked him out. 
The dog immediately started for another church about a 
quarter of a mile distant, took his place inside near the 
door, and remained a regular attendant at his new place 
of devotion until his death, which occurred recently. 
The writer can vouch for the truth of this incident. 
The Devoted Sparrow. 
An observing correspondent of the Agriculturist , “A. 
H. G.,” relates tlie following incident as throwing some 
light on the question proposed on page 153, (May No.) as 
to whether birds return to their old haunts in the Spring. 
He says: “ Last Summer a Hedge Sparrow was ob¬ 
served one morning pecking at the basement window, and 
apparently trying to get in. His strange actions excited 
the interest of the house-keeper, and her benevolent 
heart immediately suggested that he must want food. 
When, however, crumbs were offered, he refused them 
with disdain—only ruffling up his feathers like a turkey 
cock, and hopping away until the window was closed, 
when he would return. Some minutes after his first ap¬ 
pearance, the housekeeper was obliged to go up stairs, 
where she discovered on the mat in the hall, the ends of 
two wings and some feathers, very much like those upon 
the stranger at the window. The mystery was now ex¬ 
plained. The cat had caught the poor sparrow’s mate 
and he had followed her crying to the house. Day after 
day, and hour after hour—until the snow fell—did he ap¬ 
pear at the window. He would not be driven away. The 
housekeeper was obliged to pin a paper over it for a time 
for his continued pecking made her nervous. From 
morning until night, he was there—when not at the 
window, usually on a bush beside it—only going away at 
intervals for a few minutes to feed, and then returning. 
When the window was left open, he would come in, and 
had it not been for the kindly interference of the house¬ 
keeper, himself would have shared the fate of his com¬ 
panion. It is only a few weeks since he returned again to 
his oid place at tlie window. The snows of Winter had 
only disappeared when he came back. Time lias not 
made him forget-ills bereavement, nor the place where 
it occuned. He still runs along the grating outside and 
picks each pane of glass as he passes and repasses. 
There can be no doubt that lie sees his own shadow in 
the glass and thinks that it is his mate. He is still alone. 
For the past hour I have watched him go and return at 
intervals of a few minutes, to follow his old habit of pick¬ 
ing at the window. From this I am led to think that 
birds do return to their old haunts yearly ; that in many 
cases they may mate for life; that there are widowers 
among them, for our devoted little friend is of the male 
kind. However this may be, such affection seems to 
prove that there is something in a sparrow akin to love. 
BSoys’' and Girls’ Garden — No. 4. 
Our young friends, having carefully read the preceding 
chapters, understand quite well how the plant increases 
in bight, and they have watched witli interest tlie build¬ 
ing up of story after story, each consisting of a piece of 
stem and leaf or pair of leaves. But they have noticed 
that the plant does not continue to increase the main 
stem to an indefinite bight; other stems or branches, ap¬ 
pear on the main stem. Tlie branches grow precisely in 
the way that the main stem did, only instead of being 
fixed in the ground, they spring from the stem at the point 
where the leaf joins it. Branches generally appear at tlie 
place where the leaf is united to tlie stem. This point is 
called the axil, and anything that comes in this place is 
said to be axillary. Tlie branch first appears in tlie axil 
of the leaf as a bud, which elongates and produces a 
branch in just the same way as the embryo which was in 
the seed, grew and formed the original stem. As the 
branches grow from tlie axils of the leaves, it follows that 
plants with alternate leaves will have alternate branches, 
and one with opposite leaves will have tlie branches op¬ 
posite. That this is so can be seen by comparing the 
manner of branching of the Tomato with that of the Four 
O’clock. We have thus far described only the root, stem 
and leaf,—these being alt that the plant needs to enable 
it to grow. But sooner or later the plant produces flow¬ 
ers and seed, by which it can reproduce its kind. 
Flowers, which we all love so much, are of such va¬ 
ried form and color that most persons think the study 
of them must be very difficult. You have already seen 
how leaves 
vary fi 
very 
form ; S' 
flowers : 
examinf 
simple 
and 
stand s 
different 
you will 
a good i 
the g 
plan upon Fi g- 15 _ 
which all flow¬ 
ers are made. This plan admits of a wonderful variety, to 
be sure, but it only adds interest to the study to trace out 
these variations. Tlie reason why we selecled Flax as 
one of our plants for illustration, is because its flowers are 
readily understood, and are sufficiently large for the parts 
to be seen without the use of a magnifying glass. As (he 
Flax runs up to flower the leaves gradually become small¬ 
er, and soon little buds appear, each borne en a short 
stem, and these after a while, open into flowers. Having 
the flower of the Flax, let us now examine its plants. 
We have had engravings made to help tlie description, 
but it is much better to have the real flower. Beginning 
at the bottom of the flower we find five little green leaves, 
much like the upper leaves on tlie stem : these together 
form the flower 
cup or calyx , as 
seen in the un¬ 
opened flower in 
fig. 16. Each one 
of the separate 
leaves of the calyx 
is a sepal. Just 
inside of the calyx 
is the showy part 
of the flower, the 
corolla. This, like 
the calyx, has five 
distinct leaves, or 
parts, called pe 
tals , which are 
much unlike other 
leaves, being more 
delicate, and of a 
different color and 
Fig* 16* shape. The calyx 
and corolla together are the floral envelopes; they sur¬ 
round, and in the bud completely envelop the other parts, 
which being small and not very showy, are not generally 
noticed, yet they are the most important parts of tha 
i 
