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In contrast to such as these there is the Jack-in-the-pulpit of the April woods which has no floral envelope of beauty, no fragrance, no inspiration, so busy is it storing up its swollen fortunes down in the bank, leaving behind it a tuber so rank and tainted that even the Indians couldn't eat it until they had first roasted it, then ground it into powder, and finally made it into a kind of bread.
Then the Jack began growing up, and he had been held down so long that he grew quite quickly, so that even while Uncle Wiggily was watching, the Jack and his pulpit were almost regular size. A Jack-in-the-Pulpit, you know, is a queer flower that grows in our woods. Sometimes it is called an Indian turnip, but don't eat it, for it is very biting.
It was only to be the edging on a shawl for her, but he spent three days and two nights on it; and then she asked him to make it over with jack-in-the-pulpit inset, because she was sure to grow tired very soon of Sweet William; then she changed her mind about jack-in-the-pulpit and decided on wintergreen berries. This is just a sample of one teeny bit of what she demanded.
MY DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: No doubt, you have heard of the "leaf-cutter" bees, who line their nests with small round pieces of leaves, which they themselves cut and then fit together so exactly, without gum, that they hold their stores of honey and do not leak a bit. It is called Pteratomus, a word which means "winged atom," and it lives entirely upon the body of the bee.
"Where you goin', all alone, 'thout me?" cried Dotty Dimple, from the top of the bank. "You here? What did you come for?" said Susy. For answer, Dotty took a pair of rubber overshoes out of Zip's mouth. "Grandma says to put 'em right on, or you'll catch the hookin' cough; the boat's wet." "There, now," said Susy, putting on the rubbers, "I've forgot the basket for those Jack-in-the-pulpit roots.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Z.R.B's anecdote, "A Congress of Birds," in the July number, reminds me of an incident of which I was an eye-witness: A cherry-tree grew near the house, and was yearly full of luscious cherries; but the robins scarcely allowed us to have one that did not have their monogram picked in it.
This seems curious, but it is pleasant to think you are not so very different from a Jack-in-the-Pulpit after all. The Red Schoolhouse.
"I hope it's something good," he said, "to make up for not having an adventure." "Don't you call that an adventure lifting the stone off the Jack-in-the-Pulpit so he could grow?" asked a bird, sitting up in a tree. "Well, that was a little adventure." said Uncle Wiggily. "But I want one more exciting; a big one." And he is going to have one in about a minute.
I wish I could go, but I have some work to do,” and then with her wing she patted Bawly on his little green head, and opened the door for him. Bawly felt rather queer as he hopped out, and he didn’t feel like playing ball, after all. Instead he hopped off to the woods, and sat down under a big Jack-in-the-pulpit to think.
The sun, low in the west, slanted golden gleams through the tree branches which chased each other over the grassy spaces, as if they were quite alive and at merry-making. There were sedgy plants in bloom, jack-in-the-pulpit, and what might have been a lily, with a more euphonious name. Iridescent flies were skimming about, now and then a fish made a stir and dazzle.
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