Produced by David Newman, Chuck Greif, Janet Blenkinshipand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team athttps://www.pgdp.net
Among the Farmyard People
BY
Clara Dillingham Pierson
Author of "Among the Meadow People," and "Forest People".
Illustrated by F. C. GORDON
NEW YORK Copyright by E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 1899
TO THE CHILDREN
_Dear Little Friends:_
I want to introduce the farmyard people to you, and to have you callupon them and become better acquainted as soon as you can. Some of themare working for us, and we surely should know them. Perhaps, too, someof us are working for them, since that is the way in this delightfulworld of ours, and one of the happiest parts of life is helping andbeing helped.
It is so in the farmyard, and although there is not much work that thepeople there can do for each other, there are many kind things to besaid, and even the Lame Duckling found that he could make the BlindHorse happy when he tried. It is there as it is everywhere else, and Isometimes think that although the farmyard people do not look like us ortalk like us, they are not so very different after all. If you had seenthe little Chicken who wouldn't eat gravel when his mother was reprovinghim, you could not have helped knowing his thoughts even if you did notunderstand a word of the Chicken language. He was thinking, "I don'tcare! I don't care a bit! So now!" That was long since, for he was aChicken when I was a little girl, and both of us grew up some time ago.I think I have always been more sorry for him because when he waslearning to eat gravel I was learning to eat some things which I did notlike; and so, you see, I knew exactly how he felt. But it was not untilafterwards that I found out how his mother felt.
That is one of the stories which I have been keeping a long time foryou, and the Chicken was a particular friend of mine. I knew him betterthan I did some of his neighbors; yet they were all pleasantacquaintances, and if I did not see some of these things happen with myown eyes, it is just because I was not in the farmyard at the righttime. There are many other tales I should like to tell you about them,but one mustn't make the book too fat and heavy for your hands to hold,so I will send you these and keep the rest.
Many stories might be told about our neighbors who live out-of-doors,and they are stories that ought to be told, too, for there are stillboys and girls who do not know that animals think and talk and work, andlove their babies, and help each other when in trouble. I knew one boywho really thought it was not wrong to steal newly built birds'-nests,and I have seen girls--quite large ones, too--who were afraid of Mice!It was only last winter that a Quail came to my front door, during thevery cold weather, and snuggled down into the warmest corner he couldfind. I fed him, and he stayed there for several days, and I know, andyou know, perfectly well that although he did not say it in so manywords, he came to remind me that I had not yet told you a Quail story.And two of my little neighbors brought ten Polliwogs to spend the daywith me, so I promised then and there that the next book should be aboutpond people and have a Polliwog story in it.
And now, good-bye! Perhaps some of you will write me about your visitsto the farmyard. I hope you will enjoy them very much, but be sure youdon't wear red dresses or caps when you call on the Turkey Gobbler.
Your friend, CLARA DILLINGHAM PIERSON.
Stanton, Michigan, March 28, 1899.
Among the Farmyard People Page 1
