There's shining stars,
And falling dew,
Swing, tree-top, swing.




THE WALKING STICK


The Walking Stick was soberly walking down the path looking spindly in
every way: long, thin legs and a long thin body that were for all the
world like a stick. Probably you have seen the Walking Stick many times
and thought him just a twig. If you hadn't been in such a hurry you
might have seen something interesting. Each time he picked up a leg, he
seemed to wave it in the air before he put it down again. That was, I
suppose, because he had to, each leg was so very long. The Walking Stick
had been given the name of the "Parson" by some naughty little crickets,
for no other reason, I am sure, than that he was so exceedingly grave.

Chee and Chirk and Chirp were the naughty crickets who gave him the
name, and although Mrs. Cricky said it was unkind, yet other people took
it up. Now Chee and Chirk were waiting for the "Parson" when they saw
him come out of Grass Cottage, where he had been visiting Mrs. Cricky.

"Ssh!" said Chee, "don't make so much noise, he'll hear us. There!
Chirk, take that blade of grass and stretch it across the path. He'll
never see it. They say he's always thinking about things that folks
don't think about at all."