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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19962-h.zip b/19962-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b66a6c --- /dev/null +++ b/19962-h.zip diff --git a/19962-h/19962-h.htm b/19962-h/19962-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..49e3466 --- /dev/null +++ b/19962-h/19962-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1452 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Piccaninnies, by Isabel Maud Peacocke. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + -0.6em; margin-right: -0.5em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figleft1 {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + -1.6em; margin-right: 0em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figleft2 {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + -5em; margin-right: 0em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright1 {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: -0.5em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Piccaninnies, by Isabel Maud Peacocke + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Piccaninnies + +Author: Isabel Maud Peacocke + +Illustrator: Trevor Lloyd + +Release Date: November 29, 2006 [EBook #19962] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICCANINNIES *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Janet Blenkinship +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img.cover.jpg" width="332" height="624" alt="CONFUCIUS" title="CONFUCIUS" /></div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img002.jpg" width="349" height="500" + alt="They made strings of the scarlet nikau berries" /><br /> + <b>"They made strings of the scarlet nikau berries, and hung +them round their necks."</b> + </div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + + +<h1>PICCANINNIES</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ISABEL MAUD PEACOCKE</h2> + +<h5>Author of "Songs of the Happy Isles." "My Friend Phil." "Robin of the +Round House." "The Bonny Books of Humorous Verse," etc.</h5> + + + +<h4>Illustrated by</h4> + +<h3>TREVOR LLOYD</h3> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img003.jpg" alt="Title page illustration" title="Title page illustration" /></div> + +<p class='center'>WHITCOMBE & TOMBS LIMITED<br /> +Auckland, Christchurch, Dunedin and Wellington, N.Z.<br />Melbourne and +London</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<h3>DEDICATED<br /> +TO<br /> +MY LITTLE GOD-DAUGHTER<br /> +JOAN LUSK<br /> +TE KUITI, AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND</h3> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="60%" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHRISTMAS_TREE">CHRISTMAS TREE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CLEMATIS">CLEMATIS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CABBAGE_PALM">CABBAGE PALM.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#TEA_TREE">TEA TREE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#Bush_Babies">KOWHAI BLOSSOM</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HOHERIA_BLOSSOM">HOHERIA BLOSSOM.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_GREAT_RED_ENEMY">THE GREAT RED ENEMY.</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img005.jpg" alt="I" title="I" /></div><p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">f your heart is pure, and your eyes are clear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And you come the one right day of the year,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And eat of the fruit of the Magic Tree</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wee Bush Folk you will surely see.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the green and woody places,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thickets shady, sunlit spaces,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have you never heard us calling,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the golden eve is falling—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the noon-day sun is beaming—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the silver moon is gleaming?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.1em;">Have you never seen us dancing—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.1em;">Through the mossy tree-boles glancing?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.1em;">Have you never caught us gliding</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.1em;">Through the tall ferns? laughing—hiding?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8.1em;">We are here, we are there—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8.1em;">We are everywhere;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.1em;">Swinging on the tree tops, floating in the air;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8.1em;">Hush! Hush! Hush!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8.1em;">Creep into the Bush,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6.1em;">You will find us everywhere.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/img006.jpg" alt="I" title="I" /></div> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">f you would see,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">First bathe your eyes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In dew that lies</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On the bracken tree.</span></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 7em;">If you would hear</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Our elfin mirth</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">To Mother Earth</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Lay down your ear.</span></p> + + + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A-many have come with their bright eyes clear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And their young hearts pure, but—alas! Oh dear!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They've made a mistake in the day of the year.</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<h1>Piccaninnies</h1> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHRISTMAS_TREE" id="CHRISTMAS_TREE"></a>I.</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTMAS TREE. (<i>Pohutukawa</i>).</h3> +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/img007.jpg" alt="CONFUCIUS" title="CONFUCIUS" /></div><p>ong ago the Piccaninnies didn't have a rag to their +backs except a huia feather which they wore in their hair. They were the +jolliest, tubbiest, brownest babies you ever saw with tiny nubbly knobs +on their shoulders, as if they had started to grow wings and then +changed their minds about it, and little furry pointed ears, as all wild +creatures have. Only these were <i>not</i> wild, but very, very shy.</p> + +<p>Where did they live? Oh, just anywhere—all about; among the fern, in +the long grass, down on the sands, in all the places babies love to roll +about in.</p> + +<p>And then <i>People</i> began to come about, so tiresome! They began to make +houses, sell things in shops, tear about in big boxes on wheels, and +send great, clattering, shrieking,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> puffing monsters rushing through the +country, dropping smoke and cinders like anything. There was such a +clatter and a chatter, such gabbling and babbling, such hammering and +banging and laughing and crying, and hurry and scurry and rush that it +was enough to drive one crazy. There was such a <i>fuss</i>, the Piccaninnies +simply couldn't stand it, and they fled to the Bush. Well, wouldn't you, +with all that going on?</p> + +<p>And there they lived a long time. What fun they had swinging on the +giant fern leaves, climbing the trees, chasing the fantails, riding the +kiwis, who are very good-natured, though shy, and teasing the great, +sleepy round-eyed morepork, who is so stupid and <i>owlish</i> in the +daytime.</p> + +<p>And then People came <i>into the Bush!</i> Did you ever!</p> + +<p>The Piccaninnies took to the trees altogether then, and no wonder!</p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>And then one day some one in a picnic party left a scrap of paper +blowing about—you know the horrid way picnic parties have!—and a +Piccaninny found it.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img009.jpg" width="359" height="500" + alt="looking at the pictures upside +down" /><br /> + <b>"To be sure they were looking at the pictures upside +down, but that made no real difference."</b> + </div> + +<p><br /><br />As luck would have it, it was a girl Picca<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>ninny; had it been a boy he +would simply have torn it up and made paper darts with it to throw at +the other boys, and no harm would have been done. <i>But girls are +different!</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img010.jpg" width="321" height="400" + alt="Teasing the great, sleepy, round-eyed morepork" /><br /> + <b>"Teasing the great, sleepy, round-eyed morepork."</b> + </div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<p><br /><br />She smoothed it out and looked at it carefully, and then she called the +other girls to look at it. And soon there was such a clattering and +chattering that the boys came racing that way to see if the girls had +found anything good to eat. You know boys!</p> + +<p>The scrap of paper was a page out of a fashion book, and there were +pictures on it of horrid little smug-faced boys in sky-blue suits +bowling hoops in a way no real little boy ever bowled a hoop in his +life, and simpering little girls in lace frocks holding dolls or +sun-shades in un-natural attitudes.</p> + +<p>But the Piccaninnies were delighted. To be sure they were looking at the +pictures upside down, but that made no real difference.</p> + +<p>They decided they must have clothes too.</p> + +<p>Of course the boys said pooh they wouldn't! It's much easier to slide +down a fern-leaf, or jump off the end of a branch if you haven't any +clothes—everyone knows that.</p> + +<p>But when the girls, after being absent for hours, came back all in +darling little crimson kilts made out of blossoms from the Christmas +tree, the boys simply couldn't bear to think the girls had something +they hadn't got. You know what boys are!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<p>After laughing at the girls in the hopes they'd throw away their pretty +little frocks, the boys went off together. They simply had to think of +something, and it would never do to copy the girls. They came back later +with the quaintest little breeches, made out of broad flax leaves, +stitched together with the points downwards. It was clever of the boys! +They had also stuck some of the red-brown flowers in their hair. The +girls were vexed that they hadn't thought of that, but they went one +better. They made strings of the scarlet nikau berries and hung them +round their necks. (Trust the girls!)</p> + +<p>And that was how Fashions came to be started in the Bush.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img012.jpg" width="325" height="94" + alt="Chapter footer" /> + <b></b> + </div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CLEMATIS" id="CLEMATIS"></a>CLEMATIS.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/img013.jpg" alt="CONFUCIUS" title="CONFUCIUS" /></div><p>f course fashions change, and no one need be surprised +to find that crimson kilts were soon "out," while the Piccaninny girls +were to be seen walking about in pretty little white, frilly petticoats +made out of clematis blossoms, and sun hats of the same flowers.</p> + +<p>The hats were rather silly, because the Piccaninnies lived so deep in +the Bush that the sun couldn't hurt them, but then fashions are absurd. +(Look at the ladies who wear fur coats in hot climates!)</p> + +<p>The boys made no change because their kind of fashion doesn't change, +except sometimes you take great pains to iron the crease out of them, +and other times you iron it <i>in</i> most carefull-<i>ee</i>.</p> + +<p>For some reason the boys didn't like the girls' change of frocks. Of +course, they said, the girls would never play with them now, but the +girls said oh yes, they would. The boys said:</p> + +<p>"You'd be scared to play berry fights like we used to."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the girls said, as brave as could be:</p> + +<p>"Would we?"</p> + +<p>And the boys answered:</p> + +<p>"Let's see you then!"</p> + +<p>So they all ran off and collected puriri berries, big purply red ones, +rather squashy. Then the boys all yelled in chorus:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Ka mate! Ka mate! Ka ora! Ka ora!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Tenei te tangata puhuru huru</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Na na nei i tiki mai—</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>whaka whiti te ra! Upane! Upane! Upane!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>kaupani whiti te ra!</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>which means something very warlike, and the girls answered shrilly:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ka whawhai tonu! Ake! Ake! Ake!</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>They said that because they had heard that someone had said that +sometime about something, and it means "we will fight for ever and +ever."</p> + +<p>But they didn't! At the very first volley the berries stained their +dainty frocks, and the girls fled, screaming angrily:</p> + +<p>"You horrid things! You've ruined our frocks!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>And the boys grinning delightedly, and rolling their black eyes, thumped +their little brown heels on the ground, and beat their little bare, +brown knees and chanted all together:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<i>Akarana Mototapu Rangitoto Ra!</i>"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>And of course you all know what that means! You don't? Well, I'm not +quite sure myself, because I couldn't find it in the dictionary (so +careless of Mr. Webster!) but it really doesn't matter.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img015.jpg" alt="Chapter footer" title="Chapter footer" /></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CABBAGE_PALM" id="CABBAGE_PALM"></a>CABBAGE PALM.</h2> + +<h4>(Pickled Cabbages).</h4> + + +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/img016.jpg" alt="L" title="L" /></div><p>ittle Swanki, the Piccaninny girl, and Tiki, the +Piccaninny boy, were up in a karaka tree eating the pulp of the ripe +berries. When I was young I was told I would die if I ate the karaka +berries, but I suppose Piccaninny tummies are different.</p> + +<p>Anyhow, there they were, skinning the soft yellow pulp, which <i>does</i> +took nice, off the hard inside of the berry with their sharp little +white teeth, and throwing the hard part at a kiwi wandering about below +their tree, and thinking it great fun to watch his surprised face as he +tried to dodge the berries.</p> + +<p>Swanki had just eaten her fourteenth berry and was reaching for the +fifteenth, when she sighed discontentedly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tiki," she said, "aren't you sick and tired of eating the same old +foods for ever and ever? Berries—berries—berries! Roots—roots—roots! +And only a few leaves that are worth eating."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Tiki was a contented little boy, and he couldn't think of anything +nicer to eat than a handful of ripe puriri berries, or the root of a +young fern.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img017.jpg" width="350" height="295" + alt="Oh, Tiki, aren't you sick of eating" /><br /> + <b>"Oh, Tiki, aren't you sick of eating the same old foods +for ever and ever!"</b> + </div> + + +<p>"But what else could we eat?" he asked, "There isn't anything else!"</p> + +<p>"Of course there is—lots and lots," answered Swanki. "There's mince pie +and ham sandwiches and jam tarts and vinegar and plum duff and cakes and +pickled cabbages."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img018.jpg" width="326" height="500" + alt="So they all ran off" /><br /> + <b>"So they all ran off and collected puriri berries."</b> + </div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tiki stared at Swanki in amazement; he had never even heard of these +foods, and thought she must be wonderfully clever to know all about +them.</p> + +<p>Sly little Swanki did not tell him that she had lately been hidden in a +hollow tree stump near a picnic party which had come into the bush, and +that she had heard the people offering these strange foods to one +another, and they sounded as though they might be more interesting than +just berries—berries—berries—roots—roots—roots.</p> + +<p>And that is always the way,—something we haven't got always seems more +worth having than the things we have.</p> + +<p>When Tiki had recovered from his surprise he remembered one familiar +word in Swanki's list of things to eat, and as he was always ready to +please, he said:</p> + +<p>"Swanki, I don't know where the mince pie and plum duff and—and vinegar +trees grow, but I can show you the pickled cabbage trees all right."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tiki, can you?" cried Swanki. "Then let's go at once. I'm longing +for some pickled cabbage."</p> + +<p>"It's a long way," said Tiki, doubtfully, "a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> long, long way to go;" +(though he'd never heard of the popular song, which shows how easy it +must be to write those songs).</p> + +<p>But Swanki said it didn't matter how far it was; the sooner they +started, the sooner they'd be there, which was true in a way.</p> + +<p>They slid down the tree, and having persuaded the kiwi to give them a +lift, which was pretty cool of them, considering, they set off and +travelled in fine style for some way.</p> + +<p>But as they arrived near the edge of the bush and the trees grew +thinner, the kiwi, who hates the open country for his own reasons, +refused to go any farther, and the Piccaninnies had to get off and +trudge the rest of the way on foot.</p> + +<p>And crossing a little green glade they met Miss Fantail darting round +and round the glade after flies. Now, Miss Fantail is a friendly and +harmless little bird, but she's the most inquisitive creature in the +bush, and a regular little gossip.</p> + +<p>The Piccaninnies knew that if she got wind of where they were going it +would soon be all over the bush, and they made up their minds to dodge +her. So they pretended to be little brown lizards crawling through the +moss, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> Miss Fantail wasn't taken in for a moment, but flitted down +to them and put her head on one side in her bright-eyed inquisitive way.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img021.jpg" width="335" height="392" + alt="Miss Fantail" /><br /> + <b>Miss Fantail, the most inquisitive creature in the bush.</b> + </div> + + +<p>"Now she'll begin to ask questions," muttered Swanki, and sure enough +Miss Fantail began in her usual manner:</p> + +<p>"Whit—Whit—Whit—What? What?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> What? What? Where are you two off to? +Whit! What are you after? What? When are you coming back? Why are you +going so fast? Whit—Whit—Whit—What? What? What?"</p> + +<p>And when they wouldn't answer she persisted in following them, flitting +in her restless way from tree to tree, sometimes darting ahead of them, +sometimes circling round them, and never ceasing to cry inquisitively:</p> + +<p>"Whit—Whit—Whit—What? What? What? What?"</p> + +<p>On the very edge of the bush, however, she hesitated. She had been born +in the bush, and was used only to its cool green shade, and the glare of +the sun on the outside world rather scared her. So after hanging about +for a time to see what the Piccaninnies intended doing, she flitted away +after a large blue fly, and while she was busy Tiki and Swanki gave her +the slip. They, too, had been rather dismayed at the glare of the sun +and the shelterless look of the outside world, but Tiki said that the +Pickled Cabbage trees were not far away; he had seen them once when he +had climbed to the top of a rata tree, and a bush pigeon had told him +the name of them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p>So, shrinking a little and keeping a sharp look-out for enemies in case +they had need to "drop dead" and pretend to be a dead stick or leaf, +they ran on hand in hand, and came after a time to the edge of the +swamp.</p> + +<p>"There!" said Tiki proudly, "there are the Pickled Cabbage trees."</p> + +<p>There were quite a number of them, tall slim trees with long bare trunks +and a crown of long, narrow leaves at the top.</p> + +<p>"We must climb to the top to find the cabbages," said Swanki; but though +they had done a lot of climbing in their day, it was usually up trees +with plenty of branches and twigs to help them.</p> + +<p>They found it very hard to get a grip with their little, bare, brown +knees on the long, smooth trunks, and Tiki frowned thoughtfully at his +tree as he slid down for the fifth time.</p> + +<p>"You give me a leg up first," said Swanki, "and when I'm up I'll give +you one," which was rather a silly thing to say when you come to think +of it.</p> + +<p>However, you can do most things if you try hard enough, and Swanki, +seeing how the last year's jackets of the cicadas, which they had quite +grown out of, were clinging to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> Cabbage trees with their tiny claws, +slipped her hands and feet into a set of them and through this clever +idea of hers was able to climb right up the trunk, followed by Tiki, who +was busy all the time trying to explain that he had just been going to +think of the plan himself.</p> + +<p>When they were at last nestled in the crown of leaves they began to look +about for the cabbages, but could find nothing resembling Swanki's idea +of a cabbage, which wasn't very clear, but quite different from anything +they found in that tree.</p> + +<p>They nibbled some of the leaves which were bitter and stringy, and tried +some of last year's flowers, which were very little better, and then +Swanki cried out in disappointment:</p> + +<p>"You've played me a trick, Tiki. These are not cabbages."</p> + + +<div class="figright"> + <img src="images/img025.jpg" width="167" height="300" + alt="To her surprise he fell backward" /><br /> + <b>"To her surprise he fell<br />backward out of the tree."</b> + </div> + +<p>She gave him an angry little push, and to her surprise he fell backward +out of the tree splash into the swamp, where she saw him struggling in +the muddy water.</p> + +<p>Very frightened Swanki hurried down the tree and ran to the edge of the +water, where she held out her hands to Tiki who grabbed them tightly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + + +<p>But just as she was drawing him to land the boggy piece of ground on +which she was standing gave way, and she, too, fell into the water.</p> + +<p>Luckily it was not very deep, and a friendly old frog gave them a leg up +the bank, and very wet and muddy and miserable they started back for the +bush.</p> + +<p>The worst of it was that tiresome Miss Fantail had spread it all abroad +that they had left the bush, and on the way home they met her and all +her relations, and all the Piccaninnies too, setting out on a search +party.</p> + + +<p>How they stared and questioned and teased the poor little tired +travellers, standing before them so wet and grimy and weary, and when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +they had heard the whole story how they all laughed at Swanki and Tiki!</p> + +<p>And glad, indeed, were those two Piccaninnies to sit down to +a delicious tea of fern root, young nikau, and assorted berries, +and never again did any one hear Swanki complain of just +"berries—berries—berries—roots—roots—roots."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img026.jpg" alt="Chapter footer" title="Chapter footer" /></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img027.jpg" width="320" height="500" + alt="he rocked himself to sleep" /><br /> + <b>" ... he rocked himself to sleep among the pretty little +starry flowers."</b> + </div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h2><a name="TEA_TREE" id="TEA_TREE"></a>TEA TREE.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/img028.jpg" alt="O" title="O" /></div> +<p>ne of the Piccaninnies had a horrid adventure one day. +He had heard a tui that morning singing in the Bush, and had made up his +mind to speak to it, because he was sulking with the other Piccaninnies.</p> + +<p>You know they say a tui can be made to talk, but it's hard to get near +enough to one to find out, but perhaps if you did get close and +surprised it, it would be so mad at you that it would <i>answer back</i>.</p> + +<p>The Piccaninny followed his tui up and up, but it flitted from tree top +to tree top, and he could hear it tolling a bell and cracking a whip, +and chuckling at him, and finally it flew away, and that was the last of +it.</p> + +<p>The Piccaninny, tired out, climbed up into a tea tree bush, and swung +himself gently to-and-fro until he rocked himself to sleep among the +pretty little starry flowers, a thing he should never have done unless a +Piccaninny Boy Scout had been posted near by in case of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> danger. He was +<i>so</i> drowsy, that he never heard a voice saying:</p> + +<p>"Oh! look here, George, this is a lovely spray!" nor felt the spray on +which he was sleeping torn from its mother-bush, and carried away. It +was taken into a big room in a big house, and there on a big table it +was placed in a silver vase.</p> + +<p>It was then the Piccaninny woke up because the bough had ceased to sway +gently up and down. At first he was very surprised, and then, poking his +little brown head out, he was horribly frightened. Instead of the green +leafy arch above him, he saw a flat white thing, and all around him were +enormous strange objects. Craning out still farther he over-balanced +himself and fell thud! upon a hard, polished flat plain. He tried to +scramble to his feet, but the ground under him was so slippery that he +could only crawl gingerly on all fours and flounder about on it.</p> + +<p>Someone exclaimed suddenly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, look at that horrid brown insect. It must have come from the tea +tree. Fetch the brush and dustpan."</p> + +<p>And someone else cried excitedly:</p> + +<p>"Kill it! Kill it!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>But a third someone said quite calmly:</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! It's quite harmless!"</p> + +<p>Then a huge bristly thing fell upon him, and smothered and gasping he +felt himself swept along, and then flying through the air. Again he fell +with a thud upon something hard, but it was only the hardness of the +good brown earth, and the tall green grass closed protectingly over him.</p> + +<p>You may be sure he lost no time in scuttling back to the bush, and he +didn't hunt tuis again for many a long day.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img030.jpg" alt="Chapter footer" title="Chapter footer" /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Bush_Babies" id="Bush_Babies"></a>Bush Babies</h2> + + +<h3>KOWHAI BLOSSOM.</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>The Bush Babies lie</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>In cradles of gold;</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>They haven't a stitch,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>But they never take cold;</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>For the golden flowers,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>And the golden sun,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>And the golden smiles</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Upon everyone—</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Keep the world warm and bright</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>And flooded with light</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>For the Bush Babies</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>In their cradles of gold.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The Bush Babies come out of the kowhai flowers. They are the prettiest +little things—fair as lilies with golden ringlets, and little golden +peaked caps, bent over like a horn upon their heads. I don't think they +wear anything else much, just an odd little fluff of green here and +there, like stray feathers that have stuck to them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img032.jpg" width="341" height="500" + alt="They haven't a stitch" /><br /> + <b>"They haven't a stitch, But they never take cold."</b> + </div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Piccaninnies love to play with them; indeed, they're favourites with +everyone, and it's the prettiest sight in the world at early morning, to +see each Bush Baby crawling out of its cradle flower on its little +tummy, yawning or smiling or stretching, or blinking at the light with +round sleepy eyes.</p> + +<p>But you would never get up early enough to see that.</p> + +<p>They tell a story in the Bush about a Bush Baby and a Piccaninny—and +laugh about it to this day. The Piccaninny told the Bush Baby that he +would find some honey for her. Now the Bush Babies love honey better +than anything else in the world, so she put her hand in his sweetly and +off they set.</p> + +<p>They came to the edge of the swamp where the tall branching flax flowers +grow (the flax is not in flower when the kowhai is, but I can't spoil my +story for that), and every flax flower was alive with birds, dipping, +and sipping the honey, so the two little creatures wandered off again.</p> + +<p>The Piccaninny led the Bush Baby to several other flowers, but at every +one some bird or insect would edge them away, crying out:</p> + +<p>"We got here first!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img034.jpg" width="350" height="350" + alt="The Bush Lawyer" /><br /> + <b> "The Bush Lawyer, the most spiteful plant in the bush."</b> + </div> + + +<p>At last the Bush Baby began to cry. They are very young and tender +things, these Babies, and this one had been caught and scratched by the +Bush Lawyer, the most spiteful plant in the Bush, and had nearly fallen +into a creek, and the peak of its cap was dangling into its eye, and it +was a long way from home.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>To comfort it the Piccaninny put his little brown arms right round it +and loved it, and they both sat down on a fallen tree to rest while he +wiped its eyes with a soft green leaf—they didn't know about pocket +handkerchiefs yet.</p> + +<p><i>Oh!</i> The next moment out of a hole in the tree flew a swarm of angry +bees, with humming wings and large fierce eyes and tails curved down to +strike.</p> + +<p>The Bush Baby was so astonished that she fell off the log, and there she +lay face down on the green moss, so still that the bees took her for a +fallen kowhai blossom and droned away from her.</p> + +<p>But the Piccaninny ran for his life, with all the bees after him, and +when the noise of their angry buzzing had died away, the Bush Baby got +up and had a rare feast of honey, and went back home very sticky and +blissful and contented.</p> + +<p>As for the Piccaninny, who had escaped the bees, by lying down and +pretending to be a Tea Tree Jack (they call that camouflage now), he +only sniffed when they told him about it, and said:</p> + +<p>"Pooh! I knew that honey was there all the time. I said I'd find her +some and I did!"</p> + +<p><i>How like a boy!</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><br /></p> +<div class="figleft2"><img src="images/img036.jpg" alt="W" title="W" /></div><p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>hen the tree of gold</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Turns a tree of green,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>The dear Bush Babies</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Are no more seen.</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>To fields of gold</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>They have gaily run,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>And are lost in the light</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>Of the golden sun;</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>Or caught in the mist</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>Of gold that lies</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>Like a net of dreams</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>On Day's sleepy eyes.</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>But behold! next year</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>They are here! They are here!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>They come trooping back</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>Down the wander-track,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>Like rays of light</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>In the forest old,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>And the green tree turns</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.2em;"><i>To a tree of gold.</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOHERIA_BLOSSOM" id="HOHERIA_BLOSSOM"></a>HOHERIA BLOSSOM.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img037.jpg" alt="D" title="D" /></div><p>o you know the Lovely Ladies of the Bush? They swing on +the tips of the Hoheria tree, with their floating white gowns and +tossing silvery ringlets, and are so light and graceful that they float +on the wind as they swing. If you could <i>only</i> see the Lovely Ladies +dancing! But very few have been lucky enough for that!</p> + +<p>They dance on the wind, holding to the tips of the Hoheria and their +white gowns flutter and swirl, and their ringlets float and sway, and +sometimes in the joy of the dance a Lovely Lady lets go of her branch +and comes fluttering down to earth.</p> + +<p>Then she can dance no more, but lies very still. It is rather sad, +because once she has let go she may not go back and dance on the tree +for a whole long year, and it is looked on rather as a disgrace to be +the first to fall.</p> + +<p>However, she has not to wait long for company. For one by one, the +Lovely Ladies, wild<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> with the joy of the mazy dance, the soft rush of +the wind and the laughing and clapping of the little leaves, loose their +hold, and drift to earth light as thistle-down, and that is the end of +their dancing for that year. Where do they go to while the year goes by? +I have never found out, but I think it most likely that they go to the +place they came from.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img039.jpg" width="322" height="500" + alt="They dance on the wind" /><br /> + <b>"They dance on the wind."</b> + </div> + +<p>The Lovely Ladies have a song which they and the wind sing together as +they dance, and the way it is sung makes everyone that hears it, mad to +dance too. This is it:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"<i>The wind is shaking the Hoheria tree,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Cling, Maidens, cling!"</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>"I'll dance with you if you'll dance with me,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Swing, Maidens, swing!"</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>"So up with a windy rush we go,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Floating, fluttering, to and fro,"</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>"Sing for the joy of it, Maidens, Oh!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Sing, Maidens, sing!</i>"</span><br /> +</p> + + +<div class="figright1"> + <img src="images/img040.jpg" width="120" height="250" + alt="They began working" /><br /> + <b>"They began working<br />themselves up and<br />down like mad."</b> + </div> + +<p>The Piccaninnies simply love to watch the Lovely Ladies dancing, and +long to be able to dance in the same way. When they hear the song, their +little brown toes go fidgeting among the moss and leaves, and their +heads nod-nodding to the air.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>Once they found a Hoheria tree after all the Lovely Ladies had left it, +and now, they thought, was their chance. They swarmed all over the tree, +clutched the tips of the delicate branches, and began working themselves +up and down like mad.</p> + +<p>It was great fun, but with their chubby little brown bodies, short legs, +and shock heads, it did not look quite the same thing, and three Bush +Babies riding that way on a good-natured kiwi, laughed so much (and even +the kiwi, which is a grave bird, looked up and smiled) that the +Piccaninnies, feeling rather foolish, dropped to the the ground and ran +away and hid in the fern.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_GREAT_RED_ENEMY" id="THE_GREAT_RED_ENEMY"></a>THE GREAT RED ENEMY.</h2> + + +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/img041.jpg" alt="O" title="O" /></div><p>ne day one of those tiresome picnic parties came again +to the bush, and after a great deal of stupid and rather terrifying +noise, during which every Piccaninny and Bush Baby and all the other +bush folk lay hidden away in utter silence, the people all went away +again, and the Wee Folk were free to come out of their hiding places and +turn over curiously the few things the party had left.</p> + +<p>There was an empty meat tin which flashed so brightly that the +Piccaninnies took it for a helmet, and each in turn tried to wear it; +but it was so big that it simply hid them altogether, so very +regretfully they had to throw it away. Then there were a few crusts of +bread which quite by accident one of the boys discovered to be good to +eat. They finished every crumb of the bread and enjoyed it, but on the +whole agreed that fern root<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> tasted nicer. There was an empty bottle +that nobody dared go near, for they thought it was some kind of gun, and +a baby's woollen bootee, which the Piccaninnies found most useful as an +enormous bag to be filled with berries. But most mysterious, and +therefore most interesting, though a little frightening, was a large +heap of grey smoking ashes where the picnic fire had been.</p> + +<p>The Piccaninnies circled round and round this queer grey pile wondering +what on earth it could be. One boy venturing a little nearer than the +others trod on a live cinder, for the fire was not as dead as it ought +to have been, and jumped back howling and hopping round and round on one +foot, holding the other.</p> + +<p>When they crowded round him asking what had happened he cried in fear:</p> + +<p>"The Red Enemy bit me. He lives under that grey mound, and I saw his red +eye flash as I went near. That is his breath you see rising up through +the trees."</p> + +<p>The Piccaninnies looked frightened and backed away from the grey mound, +but all the rest of that evening they came again and again to stare upon +the Red Enemy, and each time they came his red eyes seemed to flash<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +brighter, his thick white breath to grow denser as it wound up through +the trees, and he seemed to be purring and growling to himself.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img043.jpg" width="352" height="485" + alt="the Red Enemy" /><br /> + <b>"All the rest of the evening they came again and again to +stare upon the Red Enemy."</b> + </div> + + + +<p>When the Piccaninnies went to bed that night they were very uneasy and +could not sleep well. The sound of the Red Enemy's breathing seemed to +fill the bush with a low roaring, and his breath stole in and out of the +trees like a reddish mist; the air was very hot and dry. One of the +Piccaninnies, a brave little fellow, said that he would go and see what +their strange new enemy was doing, and sliding down his sleeping-tree he +set off.</p> + +<p>He had not gone far before the heat and the stifling air drove him hack, +and rushing back to his friends he cried:</p> + +<p>"Run for your lives! Quick! Quick! The Great Red Enemy is coming. He is +roaring with anger and tearing the trees down as he comes. None of us +can hope to escape him, for he has a million bright red eyes which he +sends flying through the bush in all directions to find us, and his +breath is so thick that we will be lost in it if we don't run now. Run! +Run!"</p> + +<p>The Piccaninnies did not wait to be told twice. Without waiting to pack +up they slid down the trees and started to run through the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> dark bush, +and soon there were hundreds of little bush creatures all joining in the +race for life.</p> + +<p>On, on they ran in fear and excitement, hearing the angry roaring of the +Great Red Enemy behind them, feeling his hot breath scorching them as it +writhed and twisted through the trees in reddish-black billows. Some of +his millions of angry, red searching eyes flew or drifted past them, but +they never stopped for a moment. And now they had left the trees behind +them and were running over clear ground, and before long they reached +the edge of the swamp, lying dark and cool before them.</p> + +<p>In their haste and fear they all plunged in headlong and found the water +so fresh and cool and delightful after their heat and hurry, that they +burrowed deeper into it, only leaving their little black heads sticking +out.</p> + +<p>All that night they lay and watched the Great Red Enemy in his wrath +worrying and tearing their poor trees to pieces, and all next day and +the next it lasted, and then nothing was left of their beautiful bush +but a few black, ugly stumps and a great grey waste of ashes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>And from the ashes rose the smoking dense breath of the Red Enemy, and +every now and then he flashed an angry red eye. The Piccaninnies who had +lived in that part of the bush could never again return to the cool +green shades of the forest, never slide down a fern leaf, or swing on +the branches, or pick puriri berries, or pelt the morepork in the +daytime.</p> + +<p>What could they do? Where could they go? Poor, poor little Piccaninnies!</p> + +<p>Well, this is what they did. Having no home to go to, and finding the +water very delightful they decided to make their home in it. At first +they would only stay timidly near the edges where the water was not +deep, but by-and-by through living entirely in the water they grew +webbed-toes (you try it!) and became as much at home in the swamp as any +other water-creature. Some of them even grew elegant little tails +(believe me or not, as you choose!) and they became known in the swamp +as the Teenywiggles, and some day you may hear something more of the +doings of the Teenywiggles.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> +<p><br /></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><br /></p> +<div class="blockquot"><h3>Charming Booklets</h3> + +<h4>by Isabel Maud Peacocke</h4> + +<p class='center'>(illustrated by Trevor Lloyd)</p> + +<p><b>Piccaninnies</b></p> + +<p>a bewitchingly fanciful and humorous fairy story in a setting of New +Zealand plant and bird life. 1/6</p> + +<p><b>Bonny Books of Humorous Verse</b></p> + +<p>These two booklets of amusing verses on topics peculiar to childhood +will delight both young and old. 1/6</p> + +<p>Miss Peacocke's quaint humour is delightfully engaging, and Mr. Lloyd's +drawings are no less droll and pleasing.</p> + +<h3>Dainty Booklets</h3> + +<h4>by Edith Howes</h4> + +<p class='center'>(illustrated by Alice Poison)</p> + +<p><b>Wonderwings, and other Fairy Stories</b></p> + +<p>Three entrancing fairy stories by New Zealand's popular author of +juvenile literature. 1/6</p> + +<p><b>Little Make-Believe</b></p> + +<p>a companion booklet to "Wonderwings," also containing three delightful +fairy stories. 1/6</p> + +<p>Miss Howes's stories are at once entertaining and uplifting. Every one +is written with a lofty purpose.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Piccaninnies, by Isabel Maud Peacocke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICCANINNIES *** + +***** This file should be named 19962-h.htm or 19962-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/9/6/19962/ + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Janet Blenkinship +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Piccaninnies + +Author: Isabel Maud Peacocke + +Illustrator: Trevor Lloyd + +Release Date: November 29, 2006 [EBook #19962] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICCANINNIES *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Janet Blenkinship +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "They made strings of the scarlet nikau berries, and hung +them round their necks."] + + + + +PICCANINNIES + +BY + +ISABEL MAUD PEACOCKE + +Author of "Songs of the Happy Isles." "My Friend Phil." "Robin of the +Round House." "The Bonny Books of Humorous Verse," etc. + +Illustrated by TREVOR LLOYD + + + + +WHITCOMBE & TOMBS LIMITED + +Auckland, Christchurch, Dunedin and Wellington, N.Z. Melbourne and +London + + + + +DEDICATED + +TO + +MY LITTLE GOD-DAUGHTER + +JOAN LUSK + +TE KUITI, AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND + + + + + If your heart is pure, and your eyes are clear, + And you come the one right day of the year, + And eat of the fruit of the Magic Tree + The wee Bush Folk you will surely see. + + * * * * * + + In the green and woody places, + Thickets shady, sunlit spaces, + Have you never heard us calling, + When the golden eve is falling-- + When the noon-day sun is beaming-- + When the silver moon is gleaming? + Have you never seen us dancing-- + Through the mossy tree-boles glancing? + Have you never caught us gliding + Through the tall ferns? laughing--hiding? + We are here, we are there-- + We are everywhere; + Swinging on the tree tops, floating in the air; + Hush! Hush! Hush! + Creep into the Bush, + You will find us everywhere. + + If you would see, + First bathe your eyes, + In dew that lies + On the bracken tree. + + * * * * * + + If you would hear + Our elfin mirth + To Mother Earth + Lay down your ear. + + * * * * * + + A-many have come with their bright eyes clear, + And their young hearts pure, but--alas! Oh dear! + They've made a mistake in the day of the year. + + + + +Piccaninnies + + + + +I. + +CHRISTMAS TREE. (_Pohutukawa_). + + +Long ago the Piccaninnies didn't have a rag to their +backs except a huia feather which they wore in their hair. They were the +jolliest, tubbiest, brownest babies you ever saw with tiny nubbly knobs +on their shoulders, as if they had started to grow wings and then +changed their minds about it, and little furry pointed ears, as all wild +creatures have. Only these were _not_ wild, but very, very shy. + +Where did they live? Oh, just anywhere--all about; among the fern, in +the long grass, down on the sands, in all the places babies love to roll +about in. + +And then _People_ began to come about, so tiresome! They began to make +houses, sell things in shops, tear about in big boxes on wheels, and +send great, clattering, shrieking, puffing monsters rushing through the +country, dropping smoke and cinders like anything. There was such a +clatter and a chatter, such gabbling and babbling, such hammering and +banging and laughing and crying, and hurry and scurry and rush that it +was enough to drive one crazy. There was such a _fuss_, the Piccaninnies +simply couldn't stand it, and they fled to the Bush. Well, wouldn't you, +with all that going on? + +And there they lived a long time. What fun they had swinging on the +giant fern leaves, climbing the trees, chasing the fantails, riding the +kiwis, who are very good-natured, though shy, and teasing the great, +sleepy round-eyed morepork, who is so stupid and _owlish_ in the +daytime. + +And then People came _into the Bush!_ Did you ever! + +The Piccaninnies took to the trees altogether then, and no wonder! + + +II. + +And then one day some one in a picnic party left a scrap of paper +blowing about--you know the horrid way picnic parties have!--and a +Piccaninny found it. + +[Illustration: "To be sure they were looking at the pictures upside +down, but that made no real difference."] + +As luck would have it, it was a girl Piccaninny; had it been a boy he +would simply have torn it up and made paper darts with it to throw at +the other boys, and no harm would have been done. _But girls are +different!_ + +[Illustration: "Teasing the great, sleepy, round-eyed morepork."] + +She smoothed it out and looked at it carefully, and then she called the +other girls to look at it. And soon there was such a clattering and +chattering that the boys came racing that way to see if the girls had +found anything good to eat. You know boys! + +The scrap of paper was a page out of a fashion book, and there were +pictures on it of horrid little smug-faced boys in sky-blue suits +bowling hoops in a way no real little boy ever bowled a hoop in his +life, and simpering little girls in lace frocks holding dolls or +sun-shades in un-natural attitudes. + +But the Piccaninnies were delighted. To be sure they were looking at the +pictures upside down, but that made no real difference. + +They decided they must have clothes too. + +Of course the boys said pooh they wouldn't! It's much easier to slide +down a fern-leaf, or jump off the end of a branch if you haven't any +clothes--everyone knows that. + +But when the girls, after being absent for hours, came back all in +darling little crimson kilts made out of blossoms from the Christmas +tree, the boys simply couldn't bear to think the girls had something +they hadn't got. You know what boys are! + +After laughing at the girls in the hopes they'd throw away their pretty +little frocks, the boys went off together. They simply had to think of +something, and it would never do to copy the girls. They came back later +with the quaintest little breeches, made out of broad flax leaves, +stitched together with the points downwards. It was clever of the boys! +They had also stuck some of the red-brown flowers in their hair. The +girls were vexed that they hadn't thought of that, but they went one +better. They made strings of the scarlet nikau berries and hung them +round their necks. (Trust the girls!) + +And that was how Fashions came to be started in the Bush. + +[Illustration] + + + + +CLEMATIS. + + +Of course fashions change, and no one need be surprised +to find that crimson kilts were soon "out," while the Piccaninny girls +were to be seen walking about in pretty little white, frilly petticoats +made out of clematis blossoms, and sun hats of the same flowers. + +The hats were rather silly, because the Piccaninnies lived so deep in +the Bush that the sun couldn't hurt them, but then fashions are absurd. +(Look at the ladies who wear fur coats in hot climates!) + +The boys made no change because their kind of fashion doesn't change, +except sometimes you take great pains to iron the crease out of them, +and other times you iron it _in_ most carefull-_ee_. + +For some reason the boys didn't like the girls' change of frocks. Of +course, they said, the girls would never play with them now, but the +girls said oh yes, they would. The boys said: + +"You'd be scared to play berry fights like we used to." + +But the girls said, as brave as could be: + +"Would we?" + +And the boys answered: + +"Let's see you then!" + +So they all ran off and collected puriri berries, big purply red ones, +rather squashy. Then the boys all yelled in chorus: + + _Ka mate! Ka mate! Ka ora! Ka ora! + Tenei te tangata puhuru huru + Na na nei i tiki mai-- + whaka whiti te ra! Upane! Upane! Upane! + kaupani whiti te ra!_ + +which means something very warlike, and the girls answered shrilly: + + _Ka whawhai tonu! Ake! Ake! Ake!_ + +They said that because they had heard that someone had said that +sometime about something, and it means "we will fight for ever and +ever." + +But they didn't! At the very first volley the berries stained their +dainty frocks, and the girls fled, screaming angrily: + +"You horrid things! You've ruined our frocks!" + +And the boys grinning delightedly, and rolling their black eyes, thumped +their little brown heels on the ground, and beat their little bare, +brown knees and chanted all together: + + "_Akarana Mototapu Rangitoto Ra!_" + +And of course you all know what that means! You don't? Well, I'm not +quite sure myself, because I couldn't find it in the dictionary (so +careless of Mr. Webster!) but it really doesn't matter. + +[Illustration] + + + + +CABBAGE PALM. + +(Pickled Cabbages). + + +Little Swanki, the Piccaninny girl, and Tiki, the +Piccaninny boy, were up in a karaka tree eating the pulp of the ripe +berries. When I was young I was told I would die if I ate the karaka +berries, but I suppose Piccaninny tummies are different. + +Anyhow, there they were, skinning the soft yellow pulp, which _does_ +took nice, off the hard inside of the berry with their sharp little +white teeth, and throwing the hard part at a kiwi wandering about below +their tree, and thinking it great fun to watch his surprised face as he +tried to dodge the berries. + +Swanki had just eaten her fourteenth berry and was reaching for the +fifteenth, when she sighed discontentedly. + +"Oh, Tiki," she said, "aren't you sick and tired of eating the same old +foods for ever and ever? Berries--berries--berries! Roots--roots--roots! +And only a few leaves that are worth eating." + +But Tiki was a contented little boy, and he couldn't think of anything +nicer to eat than a handful of ripe puriri berries, or the root of a +young fern. + +[Illustration: "Oh, Tiki, aren't you sick of eating the same old foods +for ever and ever!"] + +"But what else could we eat?" he asked, "There isn't anything else!" + +"Of course there is--lots and lots," answered Swanki. "There's mince pie +and ham sandwiches and jam tarts and vinegar and plum duff and cakes and +pickled cabbages." + +[Illustration: "So they all ran off and collected puriri berries."] + +Tiki stared at Swanki in amazement; he had never even heard of these +foods, and thought she must be wonderfully clever to know all about +them. + +Sly little Swanki did not tell him that she had lately been hidden in a +hollow tree stump near a picnic party which had come into the bush, and +that she had heard the people offering these strange foods to one +another, and they sounded as though they might be more interesting than +just berries--berries--berries--roots--roots--roots. + +And that is always the way,--something we haven't got always seems more +worth having than the things we have. + +When Tiki had recovered from his surprise he remembered one familiar +word in Swanki's list of things to eat, and as he was always ready to +please, he said: + +"Swanki, I don't know where the mince pie and plum duff and--and vinegar +trees grow, but I can show you the pickled cabbage trees all right." + +"Oh, Tiki, can you?" cried Swanki. "Then let's go at once. I'm longing +for some pickled cabbage." + +"It's a long way," said Tiki, doubtfully, "a long, long way to go;" +(though he'd never heard of the popular song, which shows how easy it +must be to write those songs). + +But Swanki said it didn't matter how far it was; the sooner they +started, the sooner they'd be there, which was true in a way. + +They slid down the tree, and having persuaded the kiwi to give them a +lift, which was pretty cool of them, considering, they set off and +travelled in fine style for some way. + +But as they arrived near the edge of the bush and the trees grew +thinner, the kiwi, who hates the open country for his own reasons, +refused to go any farther, and the Piccaninnies had to get off and +trudge the rest of the way on foot. + +And crossing a little green glade they met Miss Fantail darting round +and round the glade after flies. Now, Miss Fantail is a friendly and +harmless little bird, but she's the most inquisitive creature in the +bush, and a regular little gossip. + +The Piccaninnies knew that if she got wind of where they were going it +would soon be all over the bush, and they made up their minds to dodge +her. So they pretended to be little brown lizards crawling through the +moss, but Miss Fantail wasn't taken in for a moment, but flitted down +to them and put her head on one side in her bright-eyed inquisitive way. + +[Illustration: Miss Fantail, the most inquisitive creature in the bush.] + +"Now she'll begin to ask questions," muttered Swanki, and sure enough +Miss Fantail began in her usual manner: + +"Whit--Whit--Whit--What? What? What? What? Where are you two off to? +Whit! What are you after? What? When are you coming back? Why are you +going so fast? Whit--Whit--Whit--What? What? What?" + +And when they wouldn't answer she persisted in following them, flitting +in her restless way from tree to tree, sometimes darting ahead of them, +sometimes circling round them, and never ceasing to cry inquisitively: + +"Whit--Whit--Whit--What? What? What? What?" + +On the very edge of the bush, however, she hesitated. She had been born +in the bush, and was used only to its cool green shade, and the glare of +the sun on the outside world rather scared her. So after hanging about +for a time to see what the Piccaninnies intended doing, she flitted away +after a large blue fly, and while she was busy Tiki and Swanki gave her +the slip. They, too, had been rather dismayed at the glare of the sun +and the shelterless look of the outside world, but Tiki said that the +Pickled Cabbage trees were not far away; he had seen them once when he +had climbed to the top of a rata tree, and a bush pigeon had told him +the name of them. + +So, shrinking a little and keeping a sharp look-out for enemies in case +they had need to "drop dead" and pretend to be a dead stick or leaf, +they ran on hand in hand, and came after a time to the edge of the +swamp. + +"There!" said Tiki proudly, "there are the Pickled Cabbage trees." + +There were quite a number of them, tall slim trees with long bare trunks +and a crown of long, narrow leaves at the top. + +"We must climb to the top to find the cabbages," said Swanki; but though +they had done a lot of climbing in their day, it was usually up trees +with plenty of branches and twigs to help them. + +They found it very hard to get a grip with their little, bare, brown +knees on the long, smooth trunks, and Tiki frowned thoughtfully at his +tree as he slid down for the fifth time. + +"You give me a leg up first," said Swanki, "and when I'm up I'll give +you one," which was rather a silly thing to say when you come to think +of it. + +However, you can do most things if you try hard enough, and Swanki, +seeing how the last year's jackets of the cicadas, which they had quite +grown out of, were clinging to the Cabbage trees with their tiny claws, +slipped her hands and feet into a set of them and through this clever +idea of hers was able to climb right up the trunk, followed by Tiki, who +was busy all the time trying to explain that he had just been going to +think of the plan himself. + +When they were at last nestled in the crown of leaves they began to look +about for the cabbages, but could find nothing resembling Swanki's idea +of a cabbage, which wasn't very clear, but quite different from anything +they found in that tree. + +They nibbled some of the leaves which were bitter and stringy, and tried +some of last year's flowers, which were very little better, and then +Swanki cried out in disappointment: + +"You've played me a trick, Tiki. These are not cabbages." + +She gave him an angry little push, and to her surprise he fell backward +out of the tree splash into the swamp, where she saw him struggling in +the muddy water. + +Very frightened Swanki hurried down the tree and ran to the edge of the +water, where she held out her hands to Tiki who grabbed them tightly. + +But just as she was drawing him to land the boggy piece of ground on +which she was standing gave way, and she, too, fell into the water. + +Luckily it was not very deep, and a friendly old frog gave them a leg up +the bank, and very wet and muddy and miserable they started back for the +bush. + +The worst of it was that tiresome Miss Fantail had spread it all abroad +that they had left the bush, and on the way home they met her and all +her relations, and all the Piccaninnies too, setting out on a search +party. + +[Illustration: "To her surprise he fell backward out of the tree."] + +How they stared and questioned and teased the poor little tired +travellers, standing before them so wet and grimy and weary, and when +they had heard the whole story how they all laughed at Swanki and Tiki! + +And glad, indeed, were those two Piccaninnies to sit down to +a delicious tea of fern root, young nikau, and assorted berries, +and never again did any one hear Swanki complain of just +"berries--berries--berries--roots--roots--roots." + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration: " ... he rocked himself to sleep among the pretty little +starry flowers."] + + + + +TEA TREE. + + +One of the Piccaninnies had a horrid adventure one day. +He had heard a tui that morning singing in the Bush, and had made up his +mind to speak to it, because he was sulking with the other Piccaninnies. + +You know they say a tui can be made to talk, but it's hard to get near +enough to one to find out, but perhaps if you did get close and +surprised it, it would be so mad at you that it would _answer back_. + +The Piccaninny followed his tui up and up, but it flitted from tree top +to tree top, and he could hear it tolling a bell and cracking a whip, +and chuckling at him, and finally it flew away, and that was the last of +it. + +The Piccaninny, tired out, climbed up into a tea tree bush, and swung +himself gently to-and-fro until he rocked himself to sleep among the +pretty little starry flowers, a thing he should never have done unless a +Piccaninny Boy Scout had been posted near by in case of danger. He was +_so_ drowsy, that he never heard a voice saying: + +"Oh! look here, George, this is a lovely spray!" nor felt the spray on +which he was sleeping torn from its mother-bush, and carried away. It +was taken into a big room in a big house, and there on a big table it +was placed in a silver vase. + +It was then the Piccaninny woke up because the bough had ceased to sway +gently up and down. At first he was very surprised, and then, poking his +little brown head out, he was horribly frightened. Instead of the green +leafy arch above him, he saw a flat white thing, and all around him were +enormous strange objects. Craning out still farther he over-balanced +himself and fell thud! upon a hard, polished flat plain. He tried to +scramble to his feet, but the ground under him was so slippery that he +could only crawl gingerly on all fours and flounder about on it. + +Someone exclaimed suddenly: + +"Oh, look at that horrid brown insect. It must have come from the tea +tree. Fetch the brush and dustpan." + +And someone else cried excitedly: + +"Kill it! Kill it!" + +But a third someone said quite calmly: + +"Nonsense! It's quite harmless!" + +Then a huge bristly thing fell upon him, and smothered and gasping he +felt himself swept along, and then flying through the air. Again he fell +with a thud upon something hard, but it was only the hardness of the +good brown earth, and the tall green grass closed protectingly over him. + +You may be sure he lost no time in scuttling back to the bush, and he +didn't hunt tuis again for many a long day. + +[Illustration] + + + + +~Bush Babies~ + + + + +KOWHAI BLOSSOM. + + + _The Bush Babies lie + In cradles of gold; + They haven't a stitch, + But they never take cold; + For the golden flowers, + And the golden sun, + And the golden smiles + Upon everyone-- + Keep the world warm and bright + And flooded with light + For the Bush Babies + In their cradles of gold._ + +The Bush Babies come out of the kowhai flowers. They are the prettiest +little things--fair as lilies with golden ringlets, and little golden +peaked caps, bent over like a horn upon their heads. I don't think they +wear anything else much, just an odd little fluff of green here and +there, like stray feathers that have stuck to them. + +[Illustration: "They haven't a stitch, But they never take cold."] + +The Piccaninnies love to play with them; indeed, they're favourites with +everyone, and it's the prettiest sight in the world at early morning, to +see each Bush Baby crawling out of its cradle flower on its little +tummy, yawning or smiling or stretching, or blinking at the light with +round sleepy eyes. + +But you would never get up early enough to see that. + +They tell a story in the Bush about a Bush Baby and a Piccaninny--and +laugh about it to this day. The Piccaninny told the Bush Baby that he +would find some honey for her. Now the Bush Babies love honey better +than anything else in the world, so she put her hand in his sweetly and +off they set. + +They came to the edge of the swamp where the tall branching flax flowers +grow (the flax is not in flower when the kowhai is, but I can't spoil my +story for that), and every flax flower was alive with birds, dipping, +and sipping the honey, so the two little creatures wandered off again. + +The Piccaninny led the Bush Baby to several other flowers, but at every +one some bird or insect would edge them away, crying out: + +"We got here first!" + +[Illustration: "The Bush Lawyer, the most spiteful plant in the bush."] + +At last the Bush Baby began to cry. They are very young and tender +things, these Babies, and this one had been caught and scratched by the +Bush Lawyer, the most spiteful plant in the Bush, and had nearly fallen +into a creek, and the peak of its cap was dangling into its eye, and it +was a long way from home. + +To comfort it the Piccaninny put his little brown arms right round it +and loved it, and they both sat down on a fallen tree to rest while he +wiped its eyes with a soft green leaf--they didn't know about pocket +handkerchiefs yet. + +_Oh!_ The next moment out of a hole in the tree flew a swarm of angry +bees, with humming wings and large fierce eyes and tails curved down to +strike. + +The Bush Baby was so astonished that she fell off the log, and there she +lay face down on the green moss, so still that the bees took her for a +fallen kowhai blossom and droned away from her. + +But the Piccaninny ran for his life, with all the bees after him, and +when the noise of their angry buzzing had died away, the Bush Baby got +up and had a rare feast of honey, and went back home very sticky and +blissful and contented. + +As for the Piccaninny, who had escaped the bees, by lying down and +pretending to be a Tea Tree Jack (they call that camouflage now), he +only sniffed when they told him about it, and said: + +"Pooh! I knew that honey was there all the time. I said I'd find her +some and I did!" + +_How like a boy!_ + + _When the tree of gold + Turns a tree of green, + The dear Bush Babies + Are no more seen. + To fields of gold + They have gaily run, + And are lost in the light + Of the golden sun; + Or caught in the mist + Of gold that lies + Like a net of dreams + On Day's sleepy eyes. + But behold! next year + They are here! They are here! + They come trooping back + Down the wander-track, + Like rays of light + In the forest old, + And the green tree turns + To a tree of gold._ + + + + +HOHERIA BLOSSOM. + + +Do you know the Lovely Ladies of the Bush? They swing on +the tips of the Hoheria tree, with their floating white gowns and +tossing silvery ringlets, and are so light and graceful that they float +on the wind as they swing. If you could _only_ see the Lovely Ladies +dancing! But very few have been lucky enough for that! + +They dance on the wind, holding to the tips of the Hoheria and their +white gowns flutter and swirl, and their ringlets float and sway, and +sometimes in the joy of the dance a Lovely Lady lets go of her branch +and comes fluttering down to earth. + +Then she can dance no more, but lies very still. It is rather sad, +because once she has let go she may not go back and dance on the tree +for a whole long year, and it is looked on rather as a disgrace to be +the first to fall. + +However, she has not to wait long for company. For one by one, the +Lovely Ladies, wild with the joy of the mazy dance, the soft rush of +the wind and the laughing and clapping of the little leaves, loose their +hold, and drift to earth light as thistle-down, and that is the end of +their dancing for that year. Where do they go to while the year goes by? +I have never found out, but I think it most likely that they go to the +place they came from. + +The Lovely Ladies have a song which they and the wind sing together as +they dance, and the way it is sung makes everyone that hears it, mad to +dance too. This is it: + + "_The wind is shaking the Hoheria tree, + Cling, Maidens, cling!" + "I'll dance with you if you'll dance with me, + Swing, Maidens, swing!" + "So up with a windy rush we go, + Floating, fluttering, to and fro," + "Sing for the joy of it, Maidens, Oh! + Sing, Maidens, sing!_" + +The Piccaninnies simply love to watch the Lovely Ladies dancing, and +long to be able to dance in the same way. When they hear the song, their +little brown toes go fidgeting among the moss and leaves, and their +heads nod-nodding to the air. + +[Illustration: "They dance on the wind."] + +[Illustration: "They began working themselves up and down like mad."] + +Once they found a Hoheria tree after all the Lovely Ladies had left it, +and now, they thought, was their chance. They swarmed all over the tree, +clutched the tips of the delicate branches, and began working themselves +up and down like mad. + +It was great fun, but with their chubby little brown bodies, short legs, +and shock heads, it did not look quite the same thing, and three Bush +Babies riding that way on a good-natured kiwi, laughed so much (and even +the kiwi, which is a grave bird, looked up and smiled) that the +Piccaninnies, feeling rather foolish, dropped to the the ground and ran +away and hid in the fern. + + + + +THE GREAT RED ENEMY. + + +One day one of those tiresome picnic parties came again +to the bush, and after a great deal of stupid and rather terrifying +noise, during which every Piccaninny and Bush Baby and all the other +bush folk lay hidden away in utter silence, the people all went away +again, and the Wee Folk were free to come out of their hiding places and +turn over curiously the few things the party had left. + +There was an empty meat tin which flashed so brightly that the +Piccaninnies took it for a helmet, and each in turn tried to wear it; +but it was so big that it simply hid them altogether, so very +regretfully they had to throw it away. Then there were a few crusts of +bread which quite by accident one of the boys discovered to be good to +eat. They finished every crumb of the bread and enjoyed it, but on the +whole agreed that fern root tasted nicer. There was an empty bottle +that nobody dared go near, for they thought it was some kind of gun, and +a baby's woollen bootee, which the Piccaninnies found most useful as an +enormous bag to be filled with berries. But most mysterious, and +therefore most interesting, though a little frightening, was a large +heap of grey smoking ashes where the picnic fire had been. + +The Piccaninnies circled round and round this queer grey pile wondering +what on earth it could be. One boy venturing a little nearer than the +others trod on a live cinder, for the fire was not as dead as it ought +to have been, and jumped back howling and hopping round and round on one +foot, holding the other. + +When they crowded round him asking what had happened he cried in fear: + +"The Red Enemy bit me. He lives under that grey mound, and I saw his red +eye flash as I went near. That is his breath you see rising up through +the trees." + +The Piccaninnies looked frightened and backed away from the grey mound, +but all the rest of that evening they came again and again to stare upon +the Red Enemy, and each time they came his red eyes seemed to flash +brighter, his thick white breath to grow denser as it wound up through +the trees, and he seemed to be purring and growling to himself. + +[Illustration: "All the rest of the evening they came again and again to +stare upon the Red Enemy."] + +When the Piccaninnies went to bed that night they were very uneasy and +could not sleep well. The sound of the Red Enemy's breathing seemed to +fill the bush with a low roaring, and his breath stole in and out of the +trees like a reddish mist; the air was very hot and dry. One of the +Piccaninnies, a brave little fellow, said that he would go and see what +their strange new enemy was doing, and sliding down his sleeping-tree he +set off. + +He had not gone far before the heat and the stifling air drove him hack, +and rushing back to his friends he cried: + +"Run for your lives! Quick! Quick! The Great Red Enemy is coming. He is +roaring with anger and tearing the trees down as he comes. None of us +can hope to escape him, for he has a million bright red eyes which he +sends flying through the bush in all directions to find us, and his +breath is so thick that we will be lost in it if we don't run now. Run! +Run!" + +The Piccaninnies did not wait to be told twice. Without waiting to pack +up they slid down the trees and started to run through the dark bush, +and soon there were hundreds of little bush creatures all joining in the +race for life. + +On, on they ran in fear and excitement, hearing the angry roaring of the +Great Red Enemy behind them, feeling his hot breath scorching them as it +writhed and twisted through the trees in reddish-black billows. Some of +his millions of angry, red searching eyes flew or drifted past them, but +they never stopped for a moment. And now they had left the trees behind +them and were running over clear ground, and before long they reached +the edge of the swamp, lying dark and cool before them. + +In their haste and fear they all plunged in headlong and found the water +so fresh and cool and delightful after their heat and hurry, that they +burrowed deeper into it, only leaving their little black heads sticking +out. + +All that night they lay and watched the Great Red Enemy in his wrath +worrying and tearing their poor trees to pieces, and all next day and +the next it lasted, and then nothing was left of their beautiful bush +but a few black, ugly stumps and a great grey waste of ashes. + +And from the ashes rose the smoking dense breath of the Red Enemy, and +every now and then he flashed an angry red eye. The Piccaninnies who had +lived in that part of the bush could never again return to the cool +green shades of the forest, never slide down a fern leaf, or swing on +the branches, or pick puriri berries, or pelt the morepork in the +daytime. + +What could they do? Where could they go? Poor, poor little Piccaninnies! + +Well, this is what they did. Having no home to go to, and finding the +water very delightful they decided to make their home in it. At first +they would only stay timidly near the edges where the water was not +deep, but by-and-by through living entirely in the water they grew +webbed-toes (you try it!) and became as much at home in the swamp as any +other water-creature. Some of them even grew elegant little tails +(believe me or not, as you choose!) and they became known in the swamp +as the Teenywiggles, and some day you may hear something more of the +doings of the Teenywiggles. + + + * * * * * + + +Charming Booklets by Isabel Maud Peacocke (illustrated by Trevor Lloyd) + + +Piccaninnies + +a bewitchingly fanciful and humorous fairy story in a setting of New +Zealand plant and bird life. 1/6 + + +Bonny Books of Humorous Verse + +These two booklets of amusing verses on topics peculiar to childhood +will delight both young and old. 1/6 + +Miss Peacocke's quaint humour is delightfully engaging, and Mr. Lloyd's +drawings are no less droll and pleasing. + + * * * * * + +Dainty Booklets by Edith Howes (illustrated by Alice Poison) + + +Wonderwings, and other Fairy Stories + +Three entrancing fairy stories by New Zealand's popular author of +juvenile literature. 1/6 + + +Little Make-Believe + +a companion booklet to "Wonderwings," also containing three delightful +fairy stories. 1/6 + +Miss Howes's stories are at once entertaining and uplifting. Every one +is written with a lofty purpose. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Piccaninnies, by Isabel Maud Peacocke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICCANINNIES *** + +***** This file should be named 19962.txt or 19962.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/9/6/19962/ + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Janet Blenkinship +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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