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The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950, January 11, 1914, EDITORIAL SECTION, Image 34

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Why the Elephant Swings His Trunk
CITTT.E Donald rested his tiny
arms on the railing of the en
closure and stood looking at the
big elephant within. “Jumbo”
he was called and no one thought of
coming to the Zoo without seeing him.
What a strange, ungainly creature
he was, too! With his big, ugly
head, his flapping ears and his long,
snake-like trunk! Indeed, for a mo
ment, 'the little boy wished Nurse were
standing there with him instead of
way over across the roadway sitting
on the bench and talking to the big
blond Keeper.
But “Jumbo” seemed to be in kind
ly mood, so the little follow' swallowed
the lump that had risen in his throat
and determined not to be afraid.
Presently he sat down on the soft
grass by the railing. Somehow, the
swing-swing— swing of “Jumbo’s”
trunk made him dizzy. And he soon
found that, sitting down, he did not
feel quite as much as though he, too,
were swinging In time with that
trunk. Presently—
"Hello, Donald!” cried a squeaky,
j yet cheery little voice right at^his el
i bow. “Watching old ‘Jumbo’ today,
j are you! Well, well, I will tell you
| a funny story .about elephants if you
want to hear it.”
Now. had you been there, you would
have been surprised if not down-right
frightened at the queer little old man
who had spoken. But Donald, you
see, considered him quite an old
. friend. And such an odd, funny look
j ing follow he was, too, no bigger than
a minute!
He was called the Old Man of the
Woods and his head was round and
' bald and glistening, with two little
' horns sticking up. one on each side,
right above his e-ars. His spindle legs
were covered with brown fur and
humming-birds’ wings; and his cloak
was fashioned of the fur of a white
polar bear, trimmed with rosettes
from the hide of a black one. He car
ried a magic wand that had worked
truly wondrous things.
"Do tell me—do tell me about the
elephant. Mr. Old Man of the For
est!” cried Donald. “And—and can
you tell me why ‘Jumbo’ keeps swing
ing his trunk back and forth, up and
down, back and forth? I should
think he would become tired of—”
"Ha! Ha!” interrupted the Old Man
merrily. “So he would, Donald, so
he would—but for the fact that he
, can’t help doing it! I might as well
begin at the beginning and tell vou all
about It.
“(•nee upon a time, way, way back
in the (lays when I was Buler of
Animals and they all lived together in
one great big wood, the Elephant—
who was even larger than 'Jumbo’—
' came to me weeping so violently
that if he hadn’t looked so much like
a great big cry-baby he would have
been pite us.
" 'Oh, Mr. Old Man,’ he wept, 'I'm
i the must unhappy- boo-hoo — little
animal in all the—boo-hoo—’
"'Here!’ I exclaimed, Jumping
back from him. ’You’ve either got
to stop crying or use your handker
chief. The first thing you knottr, Ele
phant, you’ll drown me!'
''As you can imagine, Donald, ele
' pliant's tears are awful big and aw
ful wet;* and there he was, actually
trying to cry on my shoulder!
“ 'What’s the matter with you?’ 1
added. ■'What are you boo-hoolng
. about? Has any animal larger than
• ' you been pickin’ on you!’
" 'N—n—no!’ he faltered, sniffling
i and reaching around with his trunk
i for his handkerchief—oh, dear me,
j yes, elephants carried handkerchief*
l in those days! ’B—b—but Old Gray
Monkey has—has been playing Joke*
“ ‘Humph!’ I retorted. 'Why don’t
you make him stop — you’re big
. enough!’
_" ~ ' ~ """
OME people say that summer is the only time to walk.
Or be out doors, but Pop and me we don’t believe such talk:
Why we go out the coldest days and tramp an hour or two.
And we see lots and lots of things that stay-homes never do.
f - -
For if the trees are brown and Tare and all the flowers are dead.
The woods are full of evergreens and berries bright and red;
And crows are flying round the fields and calling far and loud,
. Or gathering in the tree-tops like a big convention crowd.
And rabbits run across the road and scamper off so shy.
Or maybe squirrels, on some high limb peep at us quick and sly;
And when the wind blows 'round the hill the leaves fly everywhere.
Or whirl off like a flock of birds upon the frosty air.
And if when we’re a-walking out it should begin to snow.
We button up and hike along till we are all aglow;
And when we get back home again we look so fresh an’ strong,
1 That folks say, “My but you look fine—I wish I’d went along.’’
| “ 'B—b—but, boo-hoo, 1 can't catcl
“ ‘Oh/ said I. 'Well, then, exactly
what has h<* been doing to you?*
“ 'Teasing me about my ears! H»
sus-said they look like—boo*hoo—lik<
leather table covers! And—and—’
“ ‘Maybe they do,’ I interrupted, foi
his crying over a thing like that madi
me sick, Donald. 'I3ut then, remem
ber, you’re an elephant and you hav<
* to have ears like that—they can’t bt
“ ‘Gray Monk said he’d changt
‘Ithem!’ the big cry-baby fairlj
I screeched at me. ‘An—an—and ther
j he—boo-hoo—he fooled me! Boo
|hoo! He fooled me!’
“Well, Donald, after a long, Ion*
time, and much patience on my pari
1 managed to make out his tale o!
woe, despite his tears and his boo
honing. Old Gray Monkey, it seems
had told Elephant that he knew o:
a very wonderful salve which, ap
| plied to an elephant’s ears, would re
I duce them until they would be n<
i larger than those of the Giraffe.
1 ... 11 1
i J “in fact. Old Gray Monk had a
Mp kettle full of this magic salve
right back In the jungle now. He
would be tickled to death to rub it
on Elephant’s ears, of course; but
such a great quantity of it would be
required that he simply couldn’t make
: it all by himself. Would Elephant
I help him?
“Needless to say. Elephant Joyously
declared he would do anything Old
Gray Monk wished him to do! So the
practical joker of the jungle proceed- 1
ed to blind-fold Elephant and then
drag a huge tub of something—the
ingredients for the magic salve, he
said—out of the jungle behind him.
i He thep told Elephant to stick liis
trunk into the mixture in the tub and
stir it around—and to keep on stir
ring until it was thoroughly mixed.
“Elephant fell to it with a will.
First he would stir sideways—then i
up and down—then sideways again
— then toward him—then away from
! him. And as fast as the substance in
• 1 each tub became thick and almost so
| hard that he could scarcely move his ,
trunk around in it. Old Gray Monk
would come rushing up v !th a fresh
tub to be stirred!
"Poor Elephant! He stirred and
stirred until his trunk became so red
and sore and tired that he could
scarcely move it. After dozens and
dozens of the tubs had been stirred,
Elephant called out and asked if they
hadn’t about as much of the salve as
they would need. But he received nj
"So he kept on stirring. Presently
he called out again. But no reply
came. When he had done this three
or four times and still received no
answer from Old Gray Monk, he
reached up with his trunk and pulled
oft the blindfold.
"Not a sign of Old Gray Monk—
nor a single tub except the one he
was then stirring—was to be seen
anywheres. Elephant didn’t quite
know what to make of it, for a mo
ment. Then he looked down at the
tub. Salve? Why, bless you, it was
"Yes, Indeed, fresh butter! Old
First He Would Stir Sideways—Then Up and Down—Then Toward Him—Then Away From Him.
IT? ERE is a fairy tale from the land
I 1% of tlie cherry blossoms. It isn’t
B / a pleasant one and it hasn’t a
! happy ending; so, unless you are pre
pared for that, you had best pass It
by. Rut it does show, at all events,
| that it Is wrong to possess an envious,
1 jealous disposition. Indeed, to this
day, the little maids of Japan are
much in fear of the dreadful Princess
j Hashl, who, of course, is the heroine
or, rather, evil character of this story.
The. Princess, it seems, lived many
centuries ago. She was the most
beautiful maiden in all Japan, but
also the most jealous and envious. In
deed, though none could match her
In beauty, she imagined some people
considered other maids more lovely.
And she thought so much about it
that she finally prayed to the gods to
give her the power to plague and har
rass those whom she hated and
envied. For many days and nights
she prayed to them and at last they
listened to her plea.
They promised to grant her prayer
If she would agree to two things.
First, to consent to lose her beauty
and become ugly; and second, to live
| for three weeks in the UJ1 River. The
Princess straightway accepted the
terms, so you can see how very in
i tense must have been her envy and
her jealousy.
She coiled her beautiful hair Into
i two knots, one on each side of her
i head, until they looked like horns;
and she fastened Iron rings and spikes
i to each of them. Then she stained
Teacher—Johnny, give me a sen
j tence with Income In It.
Johnny—De door opened an* ln
. come de cat.
her wonderful olive skin with earth
and pulled out her finger-nails. Each
day she hid in the bushes along the
river bank and at night she would
dive overboard and swim under the
Finally, the three weeks were up
and the Princess emerged, all eager
and ready to enjoy her gift from the
gods. But, alas, she discovered that
the two horns of hair had become real
horns, hard as iron, and that the
stains on her face would not come
off! Indeed, she had been transform
ed into one of the dreaded Onl, or
water devils!
Made more bitter by this knowledge,
sho straightway set out to wreak
vengeance upon the poor people whom
she imagined were her enemies. She
plagued them all. Why, bless you,
young men who had once loved her
and praised her beauty, she worried
and harrassed until they could scarce
ly live: and the moment she found
a maiden who was beautiful she im
mediately saw to it that she con
tracted small-pox or had poisonous
insects sting her. Now, didn’t she get
Just about what were her Just deserts!
Ethel (running into kitchen with
| some eggs in a basket)—Mamma, our
hens are getting awfully absent
' minded.
Her Ma—Why, dear, what makes
you think so?
Ethel (holding up a soft-shelled
egg)—Look here, this makes the
third one this week that they forgot
to put a shell on.
g Qur puzzle Corner^
I am composed of nine letters.
My first is the second letter of what
| falls from the skies In winter.
My second Is the last letter of an
' Inhabitant of the far north.
My third is the second letter of
what winter does to water.
My fourth is the fourth letter of a
winter sport.
My fifth is the last letter of soft,
wet snow.
Jack be nimble
Jack be quick
Jack jump over
The candlestick.
l’lml Hu? candlestick by cutting out the black spots and fitting them to
My sixth Is the first letter of the
name of the man who went farthest
My seventh Is the third letter of
what we see on the window pane in
My eighth Is the second letter of a
snowstorm with much wind.
My last is the last letter of frozen
My whole is the name of a mighty |
chilly locality.
A well known jingle got mixed up. 1
The order of the lines, of the words j
and of the letters must be changed:
Clean they platter the licked
Dna os wnetbee meth hobt ony ese,
No his eat could wife lean
Kcaj Ptrast dlocu tae on aft.
B-n-ow; Eslcim-o; f-r-eeze; ska-t-ing;
slus-h; P-eary; fr-o-st; b-l-izzard; ic-e.
North Pole.
Jack Bpratt could eat no fat;
His wife could eat no lean.
And so, between them both, you see,
They licked the platter clean.
Gray Monk had fooled poor Elephant
into churning his winter’s supply of
butter for him! And poor, vain Ele
phant had thought he was mixing
salve to make his own ears smaller!
"[ couldn’t help laughing, Donald.
1 simply couldn't! I tried to talk to
Elephant and tell him what a silly
fellow he had been. And I even tried
to make him see how ridiculous a fel
low his size would look with ears as
small as those of Giraffe. But he
either couldn't or wouldn't see it that
" 'Just you wait until I catch that
Old Gray Monk!' he would roar. 'Just
you wait!'
“And he kept on swinging his trunk
— swinging — swinging — swinging
It. precisely as he had swung it in
churning Gray Monk's butter. And.
Donald, from that day to this, all ele
: phants swing their trunks. Why? Oh,
| you see, that keeps them from for
j getting that they are just waiting to
seize gray monkies and—and—good
ness me. there’s Nurse calling. I must
“For the land's sake!" This time
j it was Nurse speaking, as she picked
up Donald from the ground. “Can't
you keep your eyes open even one af
ternoon, Donald! Suppose that ele
j pliant had picked you up and carried
I you oft—
“B—b—but I'm not a gray mon
ikey!" mumbled Donald drowsily, as
: he tried to rub the sleep out of his
i eyes. “An—and I'm not—a—a tub of
butter, either!”
“What!” gasped Nurse. "Gray
monkeys and butter! Mercy me, what
awful dreams you do have, Donald!”
nICE Mary Jones, who I like best.
Is going to visit me.
And sec that all my dolls are
The way they ought to be.
Some girls don’t have one bit of taste,
I hey make their dolls a fright.
And such a lot of stuff they waste.
And never get things right.
But Mary knows the grandest way
To make up anything.
And she will spend the whole long day.
And lots of pieces bring. ,•
And just like her own lovely dolls
She says she’ll fix up mine—
I can’t wait hardly till she calls, .
I know they will look fine.
QjJ&S'LEEm'-TlME Tale& m
I T&fvrttie/JTTI,ir^s>T ONEa*=S=*
1 SHALL, tell you tonight about a
lost penny,” said Mamma, after
she had undressed little Doro
thy and drawn her chair up by
I the bed for the Sleepytimo Tale.
"Now. a penny isn’t very much to
either lose or find—unless it means
a lot to the person losing it!
“Once, Dorothy, when your Aunt
Ellen was a little girl she found a
penny on-the pavement right in front
of our gate. She came running up
the walk shouting and calling to
Mother to come and see what she
. had. Mother and 1 were sitting on
colored boy down by the gate. He
was walking along slowly—oh. ever
so slowly—and looking down at the
ground, first in this direction, then
that. And all the while he was cry
ing softly and brushing the tears away
with the back of his hand. When he
had reached the end of our fence, he
turned and walked all the way back
again, still looking at the ground.
" ‘Here, little boy,’ called Mother,
-— ^
“Tain’t His, Mother! lt*s Mine!**
the side veranda at the time sewing;
ar.d from Ellen's outcries we im
agined she must have fallen and hurt
herself. So we hurried to the front
"Little Ellen's eyes were fairly
dancing with joy as she held out
the coin for us to see. ‘A whole pen
ny. Mamma, a whole penny!’ she
cried. ’Now I can go down to the
store and buy one of those goody
sticks of peppermint candy! Oh. I
wish it—it—I wish I'd found a mil
lion of them!’
” ’But, Ellen,’ said Mother, 'the
penny isn’t yours to spend. You must
try and find the person who lost jt.’
“Poor Aunt Ellen, the smile faded
from her flushed face and all the
joy died out of her eyes. The owner!
She hadn’t thought of that!
“Just then Mother noticed a little
'what Is the matter? Come here ami
tell me!'
The little pickaninny, barefoot and
ragged, with the tears streaming down
his face, opened the gate and came
up the walk.
" 'I'se—1'se done Ins’ a penny,' he
wailed. 'An' my Mammy says ef I
don' find it she's gwine to lam' me
'cross her knee! 'Specs you all ain't
seen nothing of no penny, is you,
lady?' He looked up hopefully.
''Mother looked at E!len. Hut Ellen
didn't seem to even know that the
little colored boy was there.
she don’ tol' me to buy at th‘ stoah.
Thanky, Miss, thanky!’
“But Ellen still held on to the pen- *
nv. despite Mother’s look. No, she ^
didn’t intend to give it up! How
could the little colored boy prove
it was his penny! Besides, maybe
he had seen her pick it up—and now
lie was trying to make out he had
I iost it!
“But Mother was firm. She ex
plained to Ellen that he could scarce-/’
ly have done that. Finally she spoke v
to her sharply and commanded her
to turn over the penny to the little
boy. Ellen did so, with bad grace,
and the little pickaninny thanked her
politely and then ran off—-haroy.
“And now, Dorothy, comes tho
strange part of the tale. Only two
days later Mother gave Ellen a ten
cent piece with which to purchase a
i loaf of bread at the store—and to
| bring home a nickel change. But,
mind you, on the way home, Ellen^
I lost the nickel! And she did not dis
cover her loss until Mother asked *
her for the change.
“Mother was very angry. And poor
Ellen wept bitterly. She hurried out
and walked slowly along toward tho
store, bending down and looking for
the lost nickel—and back again. But
it could not be found. Besides, it
was growing dark and she couldn’t
see very well. So, tearfully, shw
promised Mother she would be upx
bright and early the next morning
1 to look for it again.
“Just then Father came In thw
I front door. Mother and Ellen ex-,
I plained to him about tho lost nickel.
! Father looked very grave.
“ ‘Hum-m-m-m,’ he said slowly,
'that’s strange. A nickel, did you
say? llum-m-m-m! Why, I found
a nickel just a few minutes ago.’
“ *Ob. goody, goody!’ shouted El
len. ‘That’s the one! That’s thg
one!’ '
“ ‘Walt!’ said Father. ‘Walt! How-'
do you know it ir, Ellen? There arw .»
lots of other nickels in the world, El- *
Ion, besides the one you lost! Can
von prove the one I found is the on«
you lost?’
“ 'Jt must be. Father! It must
be!’ Ellen exclaimed.
“ ‘But why, Ellen, why?’ insisted
Ellen paused a moment. 'Didn’t
! you find it somewhere between herw
j and the store?' she asked hopefully.
“ ‘Yes.’ admitted Father. 'But still <
that doesn’t prove it wa3 the one 1
you lost. Besides, you know’—and
here Father looked at Ellen very'
j sternly—‘you might just be trying to
HE peacock is extremely proud.
He’s gaily clad in plumage loud,
He struts about his small domain
In manner that is very vain.
He’s good for nothing but for show,
! And cannot even cluck or crow;
I he other fowls in the yard.
Think his presence should be barred.
" 'No,' replied Mother slowly, still
looking at Ellen, 'I haven't found
your penny, but—but I think I know
a little lady who has—
■''Wha’r? Wha’r is she. lady! Oh,
Lordy, wha'r Is she?'
" 'Taln't his!” cried out Ellen, put
ting her hand that clutched the pen
ny behind her and making a per
fectly horrid face at the poor little
colored boy. 'Taln’t his, Mother,
taln't his! There are other pennies in
the world ’sides his! How does he
know it is his penny? Taln’t his at
all! It’s mine! Findings are keep
ings, anyways!’
’’ ‘Oh, Lordy!’ cried the little col
ored boy. ‘Did you don’ find my pen
ny, Miss? Bress de Lord! Den my
Mommy ain’t gwlne t 'spank me? Ef
you’ll give It to me. Miss. I’ll don’
run an fotch dat cent's wutb of yeast
« <:
make out It is the one you lost, since
you heard me say I had found a
Poor Ellen grasped for breath. 'Why
—why—fa-ther,’ she stammered, 'I
wouldn't do such a thing!’ i
“ 'Then,' said Father, ’why are you
■o ready to believe that someone else
would! Now if you happened to be
a little colored boy who had lost a
penny, let us say, It might be ex
peoted, of course, that you would d
such a thing! But being a nice llttl
6 L
"He didn't have to say any more,.
Dorothy. Ellen knew exactly what
he meant. And, more than that, she
felt certain now that the lititip, oolored
boy had really lost that penny. It
makes a great difference, ^you Me,
who’s wearing the shoe, as the old
saying goes. Do you understand?"

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