CHAPTER 11 OF UNCLE WIGLEY'S STORYBOOK This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Lyndon Godsell. Uncle Wiggly's Storybook by Howard R. Garris. Uncle Wiggly's Christmas. Downswell the snow, its white flakes blown by the cold December wind. From the north it came, this wind, and a bird, not a robin, for they had long ago flown south. A bird went in the barn and hit his head under the wing. Poor thing. It was cold in the woods around Uncle Wiggly's hollow stump bungalow, and the rabbit gentleman brought in stick after stick of wood for nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy to pile on the blazing fire that roared up the chimney. Uncle Wiggly, having filled the wood box, took his cap and his fur-aligned coat down from the rack. Dear me, Wiggy, you aren't going out on a day like this, are you, asked nurse Jane? Yes, answered the bunny gentleman. I am, and if you please, nurse Jane. I promised grandfather Goosey Gander I'd go downtown shopping with him. He wants to look through the five- and ten-cent store to see what they have for Christmas. Oh, well, if it's about Christmas, that's different, said the muskrat lady. But wrap yourself up well, for it is storming hard. I don't want you to take cold. Nor do I want a cold, said Uncle Wiggly. My pink nose gets very red when I sneeze. I'll be careful, nurse Jane. Out into the snowy, blowy woods went Uncle Wiggly. He passed the borough house where Sammy and Susie Little-Tale, the rabbit children, lived. Susie was at the window and waved her paw to the bunny gentleman. Only three more days until Christmas, aren't you glad, Uncle Wiggly, called Susie. Indeed I am, answered Mr. Longhears. Very glad. Johnny and Billy Bushy-Tale, the squirrels, looked from the window of their house. Johnny held up a string of nuts that he was getting ready to put on the Christmas tree. Billy and I are going to help Santa Claus, chatted Johnny. Good laugh, Uncle Wiggly. Santa Claus needs help. The bunny hopped along through the snow until he reached the kennel of Jackie and Petey Bow-Wow, the puppy dog boys. We're popping corn-barked, Jackie. Get ready for Christmas. That's why we can't be out. Stay in the house and keep warm, called Uncle Wiggly. He hopped on a little further until he met Mr. Gander, and the rabbit gentleman and the goose grandpa made their way through the five and ten, the three and four, and the sixteen and seventeen cent stores. Each place was piled full of Christmas presents for animal boys and girls, and animal fathers and mothers were shopping about to tell Santa Claus what to bring to the different houses, you know. Uncle Wiggly saw some things he knew Nurse Jackie would like, and Grandpa Goosey bought some presents that had come directly from the workshop of Santa Claus. Then along came Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear gentleman. Ho-ho, Rod, Mr. Whitewash, in his jolly voice. Come to my ice cave, gentlemen, and have a cup of hot melted icicles. I'd like to, but I can't, said Uncle Wiggly. Nurse Jane wanted me to get her some spools of thread. I'll buy them and go back to my bungalow. Then I'll go with you, Mr. Whitewash, quacked Grandpa Goosey, and he waddled off with the bear gentleman while Uncle Wiggly had him bought the thread, hopped towards his bungalow. The bunny uncle had not gone very far before he heard some children talking behind a bush around which the snow was piled in a high drift. Uncle Wiggly could hide behind this drift and hear what it was said. Is Santa Claus coming to your house, asked one boy of another? I don't guess so, was the answer.  He'd look like a charcoal man if he did, I guess. It's the same way at our house, sighed the first boy. Our chimney is all stuffed up. I guess there'll be no Christmas presents this year. My, that's too bad, thought Uncle Wiggly to himself. There ought to be Christmas for everyone, and a little thing like a soot filled chimney ought not to stand in the way. Or the animal children whom I know are going to get presents. I wish I could help those boys, and they probably have sisters also who will get nothing for Christmas. Too bad. Uncle Wiggly peered over the top of the snow bank. He saw the boys, but they did not notice the rabbits, and Mr Long Years knew where the boys lived. Their homes were in houses near the brick one, where dwelt the lad who was once lost in the woods. Uncle Wiggly unwound a ball of red yarn, if you will kindly remember, and by following this kite boy found his house. I wish I could help those boys who are not going to have any Christmas, said the bunny gentleman to himself, as he hopped on with Nurse Jane's spool of thread. And just then, in the air overheard, he heard the sands of go, go, go.  Black crows, black, black. Why?  I'm beginning to think of something. Yes, that's what I am. The rabbit's pink nose began twinkling very fast. It always did when he was thinking, and now it was sparking almost like a star on a frosty night. Ha! I have it, exclaimed Uncle Wiggly. A crow can become no blacker inside a sooty chimney than outside. If Santa Claus can't go down a black chimney, why a crow can? I'll have these crows pretend to be St. Nicholas. No sooner thought of than done, Uncle Wiggly put his paws to his lips and sent out a shrill whistle, just as a policeman does when he wants the automobiles to stop turning somersaults. Caw! Caw! Caw! croaked the black crow's high in the white snowy air.  Caw! Caw! Down they flew, perching on the bare limbs of trees in the wood not far from the bunny's hollow stump bungalow. How do you do, crows? greeted the rabbits. I called you. I want you to take a few Christmas presents to some boys who, otherwise, will not get any. Their chimneys are choked with black soot. Black soots will not bother us, said the largest crow of all.  I thought you wouldn't, said Uncle Wiggly. That's why I called you. Now, of course, I know that the kind of presents that Santa Claus will bring to the animal children will not all be such as real boys and girls would like. But still, there are some which may do. I can get willow whistles made by Grandpa Lightfoot, the old squirrel gentleman. I can get wooden puzzles gnawed from the aspen tree by Grandpa Wackham, the beaver.  Those will be very nice presents indeed, called a middle-sized crow. The boys ought to be like them. And will you take the things down the black chimneys, asked Uncle Wiggly? I'll give you some of Nurse Jane's thread, so you may easily carry the whistles, puzzles, wooden marbles and other presents. We'll take them down the chimneys, called the crows.  It will not show on our black wings. So among his friends Uncle Wiggly gathered up bundles of woodland presents, and in the dusk of Christmas Eve the black crows fluttered silently in from the forest, gathered up in their claws the presents, which the bunny had tied with thread and away they flapped, not only to the houses of the two boys, but also to the homes of some girls, about whom Uncle Wiggly had heard. Their chimneys, too, it seemed, were choked with soot. But the crows could be made no blacker, not even if you dusted them with charcoal, so they did not in the least bind fluttering down the sooty chimneys. And so softly did they make their way, that not a boy or girl heard them, as silently as quietly as Santa Claus himself went the crows. All during Christmas Eve they fluttered down the chimneys at the homes of poor boys and girls, helping St Nicholas, until all the presents that Uncle Wiggly had gathered from his friends had been put in place. Then throughout woodland, in the homes of Sammy and Susie, little tale the rabbits, of Johnny and Billy Bush, tale the squirrels, Jackie and Petty Bow, wow the dogs, curly and floppy twisty tail, the piggy boys, in all the homes of woodland great changes took place. Firefly lights began to glow on Christmas trees, mysterious bundles seemed to come from nowhere and took their places under the trees, in stockings and on chairs or mantles. And then night came and all was still and quiet and dark, as dark as the black crows or the soot in the chimneys. But in the morning when the stars had faded, the moon was pale, the glorious sun came up and made the snow sparkle like ten million diamonds. Merry Christmas Uncle Wiggly called Nurse Jane. See what Santa Claus brought me? Merry Christmas Nurse Jane answered the bunny. And what a fine lot of presents St Nicholas left for me. See them? Oh, isn't he a great old chap laughed Nurse Jane, as she smelled a bottle of perfume, and all over the land voices could be heard saying, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, near the hearth in the homes of some boys and girls who had not gone to bed with happy thoughts of the morrow, were some delightful presents, how they opened their eyes instead, these boys and girls who had expected no Christmas. Why, why exclaimed one of the two lads whom Uncle Wiggly had heard talking near the snowbank?  But of course they knew nothing of Uncle Wiggly and the crows, and please don't you tell them. So all over in the land of boys and girls, as well as in the snow forest of the animal folk, there echoed the happy calls of Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, once again there was joy in the land. And if the sunflower doesn't shine in the face of the clock, and make its hands go whizzing around backward, I shall take pleasure next in telling you about Uncle Wiggly's Fourth of July. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibreVox.org. Recording by Lyndon Godsall. Uncle Wiggly's Storybook by Howard R. Garris Uncle Wiggly's Fourth of July. You must be extra careful tomorrow, Uncle Wiggly, said nurse Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy, to the bunny rabbit gentleman one morning, as he stood on the steps of his hollow stump bungalow. Why be careful tomorrow more than on any other day in the year, asked Miss the Long Years. Is it going to rain or snow? Whoever heard of snow on the Fourth of July inquired the muskrat lady housekeeper, as she fastened a fluffy brush to the end of her tail, for she was presently going in the house to dust the furniture. Oh, so tomorrow is the Fourth of July, exclaimed the bunny. I had forgotten all about it. Yes, indeed I must be careful. I am living near the real children now, and some of them might think it fun to explode torpedo under my pink, twinkly nose, or to try to fasten a firecracker to my little tail. That's what I was thinking of, went on nurse Jane, for Uncle Wiggly's bungalow, while still in the woods, was near to the homes of some boys and girls, and though only one boy so far had been bad to the bunny, and this boy soon turned good, there was no telling what might happen. So as Uncle Wiggly hopped along the forest path, he took care not to get too far away from the bushes behind, and under which he could hide. For sometimes boys and girls came to the forest, and once a kite boy was lost, and the bunny helped him find his way home. You may remember. Hello, Uncle Wiggly, suddenly called a voice, and Mr. Longhears quickly jumped around, thinking it might be a real boy or girl, but it was only Neddy's stub-tail, the little boy there. I've been buying my firecrackers, said Neddy, to his uncle, the bunny. I'm going to have lots of fun, Fourth of July, and he showed Mr. Longhears a bundle of dry sticks, painted red, white, and blue, like the bunny's rheumatism crutch. You must know that in animal land, the boys and girls have the same sort of fun you children do on holidays, in a different manner.  These they break with loud cracking sounds, but without any fire, and they have lots of fun. After the sticks are broken, they can be put in the stove to boil the teak-headle. Do you get your sister, Becky, any Fourth of July things, asked Uncle Wiggly of the boybear? Oh yes, I got her some little stick-crackers, answered Neddy. That's good, spoke Mr. Longhears. They went on through the woods, meeting Toodle and Noodle Flattail, the beaver boys, Joey, Tommy, and Kitty Cat, the kittens, Nanny and Billy Wagtail, the goats, and many other animal boys and girls, all of them called. Hello, Uncle Wiggly! Happy Fourth of July! And the bunny answered back, Thank you! I wish you the same! Thus hopping through the woods, meeting the animal children, and learning of the fun they were to have the next day, the bunny-rabbit gentleman, at length, came to the end of the forest. My father-on were the houses and homes of real boys and girls, some of whom had been helped by Mr. Longhears. I think this is as far as I had better go, seeing it so close to the Fourth of July, thought Uncle Wiggly. If the real children are anything like those of my animal friends who live in the woods, they'll be shooting off their crackers and torpedoes ahead of time. And just as he said that, Uncle Wiggly heard a loud bang, bang! The buddy jumped to one side and hid under the broad leaf of a bird-op plant. Then he laughed. I thought that was a hunter's gun, whispered Uncle Wiggly, but I guess it was some boy setting off a firecracker. I need not have been afraid. He was just going to hop along a little further, before turning back to his hollow stump, bungalow, when, all at once, he saw a hammock swinging between two trees near the edge of the wood. In the hammock lay a boy with a thin pale face, and beside him sat a nurse, gently pulling on a rope that caused the little nest-like swinging-bed to sway, to and fro.  I'm sorry for him. He won't be able to run around and have fun on Fourth of July as Jackie and Petty bow-wow-well. And then the bunny heard the boy in a hammock speaking, and, being able, as he was of late to understand the talk of real persons, Uncle Wiggly heard the boy say, Do you think I'll ever be able to run around again and have fun and shoot off firecrackers? Of course you will, the nurse, and so cheerfully. But I can't have any firecrackers now, can I? asked the boy timidly, as though knowing what the answer would be. Nobody, you are not quite well enough, the nurse gently replied. No firecrackers for you. How about torpedoes? You couldn't have those either, I'm afraid, and the nurse smiled as she leaned over to give the boy a drink of orange juice. Oh dear, sighed the boy in the hammock, just like that. Oh dear. Uncle Wiggly felt very sorry for him. I wish I could do something, thought the bunny gentleman. This boy won't have much fun on the Fourth of July, not even as much fun as curly and floppy twist-tail, the piggychaps. We'll have throwing corn cobs against a tin pan and make him believe they are skyrockets. Oh dear, again sighed the boy in the hammock. Oh dear, what's the matter now, asked the nurse. I don't suppose I could even have a Roman candle or a pinwheel, could I? The invalid asked. Oh no, laughed the nurse.  But the boy didn't feel very funny. Uncle Wiggly twinkled his pink nose. Then he put his tall silk hat firmly on his head and tucking under his paw his red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch. Off through the woods, hopped the bunny uncle. I'm going to get some Fourth of July for that boy, said Mr Longhears. He simply must have some. Uncle Wiggly spent some time hopping here and there through the woods and early the next morning when the real boys and girls were shooting off real firecrackers and torpedoes and when the animal lads and lasses were cracking sticks and making torpedoes from broad green leaves, Mr Longhears hopped to where the boy was once more swinging in the hammock. The boy's head was turned to one side and he was looking at some of his friends over in the vacant lots, setting off firecrackers. Uncle Wiggly, when the nurse wasn't looking, tossed into the hammock from the bush behind which the bunny was hidden, a bundle of green things. They fell near the boy's hands. Hardly knowing what he was doing, the sick lad pinched one of the green things between his fingers. Pop! it went. What's that? cried the nurse. It sounded like a firecracker. The boy pinched another green leaf. Ball between his fingers. Pop! sounded again as the ball burst. Why? cried the nurse. That's like a torpedo. What have you there, buddy? I don't know, the boy answered, but these round green balls that burst and pop when I squeezed them fell into my hammock. There's a lot of them. I can pinch them and make a noise for 4th of July. So you can exclaimed the nurse, pinching one herself and jumping when it went Pop! And they won't hurt me will they asked the boy. No, answered the nurse. They won't hurt you at all. They must have fallen off this tree, but I never knew before that such things as green firecrackers grew on trees. Ha ha! laughed Uncle Wiggly to himself, hidden under the bush.  For that is what the bunny had done. In the woods he had found the green puff balls inside which were the seeds of the plant.  But now, being green and filled with air, they burst with a 4th of July noise when squeezed.  Ha ha! now I'm celebrating 4th of July. And he was.  Pop! Pop! That is how they sounded as the boy pinched them in the hammock. Some were large, like big firecrackers, and others were small, like little torpedoes. Oh, what a lovely 4th of July sighed the boy when evening came to put the sun to bed and the nurse wheeled the boy into the house. And then, when it grew dark, Uncle Wiggly called together 10,000 fiery lightning bugs and they filtered and fluttered about the porch on which the boy had been taken after supper. The fireflies made pinwheels of themselves. They went up like skyrockets.  And finally, when it was time to go to bed, they took hold of each other's legs and cleaned together, spelled out. Oh, it's just like real fireworks cried the happy boy. And glad he liked it, said Uncle Wiggly, as he hopped home to his hollow stump bungalow.  End of Chapter 12 Story 13 of Uncle Wiggly's Storybook This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Abbie J. Uncle Wiggly's Storybook by Howard R. Garris Story 13 Uncle Wiggly and the Skates There was once a little boy to whom Santa Claus brought a pair of skates at Christmas. And of course, that boy, as soon as he saw the shiny steel runners, wished that the pond would freeze over so that he might try his new playthings. When do you suppose there'll be skating? He asked his mother again and again. For as yet, there was only a skim of ice on the pond. Oh, pretty soon, his mother would answer. You mustn't go skating when the ice is too thin, you know. If you did, you would break through into the cold water. And that would spoil my skates, wouldn't it? asked the boy. Yes, but besides that you might be drowned or catch cold and be very ill, mother said. So keep off the ice with your new skates until the pond has frozen good and thick. Yes, I will, promised the little boy. And really, he meant to keep his word. But as the days passed and the weather was not quite cold enough to freeze thick ice, the little boy became tired of waiting. Every chance he had, after school, he would go down to the edge of the pond and throw stones on the ice to see how thick it was. Often the stones would break through and fall into the cold black water with a thump. Then the boy would know the ice was not thick enough. I don't want to fall through like a stone, he would say. And back to his house he would go with his new skates dangling and jingling at his back over which they were hung by a strap. But one day, when the boy threw a large stone on the ice of the pond, instead of breaking through, the rock only made a dent and stayed there. Oh, hooray, cried the boy. I guess it's strong enough to hold me now. I'm going skating. However, first he started to walk on the edge of the ice near the shore. And when he did so and heard cracking sounds, he jumped quickly back. I guess I'd better not try it yet, said the boy to himself. I'll wait a little while until it freezes harder. So he sat down by the edge of the pond to wait for the ice to freeze harder. But as he sat there and saw how white and shiny it was, and as he looked at his new skates, which he had only put on in the house, that boy couldn't wait another minute. He walked along the shore a little farther to a place where the ice seemed more hard and shiny. And there, after throwing some stones and venturing out a little way, finding that there was no cracking sound, the little boy made up his mind to try to skate. There was no one else on the pond, no other boys and girls, and it was a bit lonesome. But the boy was so eager to try his new skates that he did not think of this. Down he sat on the ground and began putting on his Christmas skates. And it was just about this time that nurse Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy, Uncle Wiggly's muskrat lady housekeeper, happened to look out of the window of the hollow stump bungalow. The bunny's bungalow was so hidden in the woods near the pond that few boys or girls ever saw the queer little house. But Uncle Wiggly could see them as they came to the woods winter and summer, and often he was able to help them. Well, I declare, exclaimed nurse Jane as she looked out of the window a second time. What's the matter? asked Uncle Wiggly, who was just finishing his breakfast of lettuce bread and carrot coffee with some turnip marmalade. Why, there's a boy, a real boy and not one of the animal chaps, ready to go skating, said the muskrat lady, for she could see the boy putting on his skates.  It would be all right for Sammy Little's tail, or Johnny or Billy Bushy Tail. But real boys are too heavy, much heavier than my nephew Sammy the Rabbit, or than the Bushy Tail's girl chaps. Well, this boy is going on all the same, cried nurse Jane, and I know he'll break through, and he'll frighten his mother into a conniption fit. That will be too bad, exclaimed Uncle Wiggly, as he wiped a little of the turnip marmalade off his whiskers where it had fallen by mistake. I must try to save him if he does fall in. It would be better to keep him from going on the ice, spoke nurse Jane. Safety first, you know. If I could speak boy language, I'd hop down there and tell him the ice is too thin, answered Uncle Wiggly.  However, I think I know a way to save this boy if he happens to break through the ice. Well, he is almost sure to break through, declared Miss Fuzzy-Wuzzy, so you would better hurry. No sooner said than done, exclaimed Uncle Wiggly, and catching up his red, white, and blue-striped rheumatism crutch and putting on his fur cap, for the day was cold, away the bunny hopped from his hollow stump bungalow. Instead of going to the place where the boy, with his skates fastened on his shoes, was about to try the ice, the bunny gentleman went to the house of some friends of his.  But in this house lived a family of beavers, queer animals whose fur is so warm and thick that they can swim in ice water and not feel chilly. In fact, the beavers had to dive down under the ice and water to get into their winter home. Our toodle and noodle in the house, asked Uncle Wiggly as he reached the stick house. Unsure not far from it was Grandpa Wacom, the old beaver gentleman with his broad flat tail. I, yes, toodle and noodle are inside, answered Grandpa Wacom.  If you please, spoke Uncle Wiggly. I want them to come and help me save a boy who I think is going to break through the thin ice with his new skates. That will be too bad, exclaimed Grandpa Wacom. Then with his broad tail he pounded or whacked on the ground. As soon up through a hole in the ice came swimming toodle and noodle flat tail, the two beaver boys.  We're glad to see you. Hello, answered the bunny gentleman. Will you come with me and help save a real boy? Of course, said toodle, shaking off some ice water from his fur coat. He won't try to catch us, will he? Asked noodle. I think not, the bunny gentleman replied. If what I think is going to happen does really happen, that boy will be too surprised to catch anything but a cold. Come along, beaver chaps. So toodle and noodle, wet and glistening from having dived out of their house and down underwater to come up through the hole in the ice, followed Uncle Wiggly. The sun and wind soon dried their fur. There's the boy, said Uncle Wiggly, as he and the beaver chaps reached the edge of the pond. He's skating on thin ice. He'll go through in a minute. And surely enough, hardly had the bunny spoken than there was a cracking sound. The ice broke beneath the boy's feet and into the dark cold water he fell. Oh, oh, cried the boy. Help me, somebody! Oh, oh! Huh, it's a good thing Nurse Jane saw him, said Uncle Wiggly. Quick now, toodle and noodle. I brought you along because you have such good sharp teeth. Much sharper and better than mine are for gnawing down trees. I can gnaw off the bark, but you can nibble all the way through a tree and make it fall. Is that what you want us to do, as toodle? Yes, answered Uncle Wiggly. We'll go close to shore where the boy has fallen in. Near him is a tree. You'll gnaw that so it will fall outward across the ice. And he can reach up, take hold of it and pull himself out of the hole. By this time the poor boy was floundering around in the cold water. He tried to get hold of the edges of the ice around the hole through which he had fallen, but the ice broke in his hands. Help, help! he cried. We're going to help you! answered Uncle Wiggly. But, of course, he spoke animal language which the boy did not understand. But toodle and noodle understood quickly running to the edge of the shore, they gnawed and gnawed and gnawed very extra fast at an overhanging tree until it began to bend and break. Uncle Wiggly gnawed a little also to help the beaver boys. Then, just as the real boy was almost ready to sink down underwater, the tree fell on the ice. Some of its branches close enough so the boy's skater could grasp them. Oh! Now I can pull myself out, he said. This tree fell just in time. Now I'll be saved! He did not know that Uncle Wiggly and the beaver boys had gnawed the tree down, making it fall just in the right place at the right time. For the boy was so frightened at having broken through the ice that he never noticed the bunny gentleman and the beaver boys on shore. He caught hold of the tree branches in his cold fingers, pulled himself up out of the water and to shore. Then, as he sat down, all wet and shivering to take off his skates so he could run home, Uncle Wiggly called to toodle and noodle. Come on, beaver boys! Our work is done! We have saved that boy and I hope he never again tries to skate on thin ice. Then Uncle Wiggly hopped toward his hollow stump bungalow and the beaver boys slid on the ice near shore toward their own stick house for the pond was frozen hard and thick enough to hold them. And the boy ran home as fast as he could and drank hot lemonade so he wouldn't catch cold. He did get the snuffles but, of course, that couldn't be helped and it wasn't much for falling through the ice, was it? You never should have gone skating until the pond was better frozen, his mother said. I know it, the boy answered. But wasn't it lucky that tree fell when it did? Very lucky, agreed his mother and neither the boy nor his mother knew that it was Nurse Jane, Uncle Wiggly and the beaver boys who had caused the tree to topple over just in time. But that's the way it sometimes is in this world and if the cow doesn't tickle the man in the moon with her horns when she jumps over the green cheese I'll tell you next about Uncle Wiggly going coasting. End of Story 13 Story 14 of Uncle Wiggly's Storybook This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Abbey J Uncle Wiggly's Storybook by Howard R. Garris Story 14 Uncle Wiggly goes coasting Oh! It stops snowing! It stops snowing!  And on our new Christmas sleds oh! what fun! A boy and a girl ran from the window against which they had been pressing their noses looking out to see when the white flakes would stop falling from the sky.  When daddy comes to supper you must be home. We will, promised the boy and girl, and, laughing in glee, they ran to get on their boots, their mittens, and warm coats. I want to go coasting, take me to Slide Down Hill," cried Bumps, the little sister of the boy and girl. I want a sleigh ride. Oh, Bumps, you're too little, objected sister. And she'll fall down and bang herself, added brother. In fact, the littlest girl did fall down so often that she was called Bumps as a pet name. I won't fall down, Bumps promised. I'll be good. Please take me coasting. I think you might take her, said mother. Yes, we will, spoke sister. Come on, Bumps. Well, if she falls off the sled when it's going downhill and she gets bumped, it won't be my fault, declared brother. I'll be good. I won't fall, promised Bumps. So mother bundled her up and out she went to the coasting hill with brother and sister, each of whom had a sled. I'm not going to give her rides on my sled all the while, said brother, half grumbling. We'll take turns, more kindly suggested sister. Take hold of my hand, Bumps, and don't fall any more times than you can help, dear. No, I won't, answered Bumps. The littlest girl was smiling and happy because she was going coasting with sister and brother, and she made up her mind she would try very, very hard not to fall. On the other side of the forest, near which was the coasting hill of the children, lived Uncle Wiggly in his hollow stump bungalow. From afar he had often watched the boys and girls sliding down on their sleds, but the funny gentleman had never gone very close. For, he said to himself, they might by accident run over me. Though I haven't much of a tale to be cut off, I would look queer if anything should happen to my long ears. I'll keep away from the coasting hill of the boys and girls. But not far from the bunnies bungalow was another and smaller hill, down which the animal boys and girls coasted. Of course, very few of them had such sleds as you children have, with shiny steel runners, and with the tops painted red, blue, green, and gold. In fact, some of the animal boys didn't bother with a sled at all. Take Toodle and Noodle Flat Tail, the beaver chaps for instance. They just slid down hill on their broad flat tails. And as for Johnny and Billy Bushy Tail, the squirrels, they sat on their fuzzy tails and scooted down the hill of snow. Others of the animal children sometimes used pieces of wood, an old board, or some sticks bound together with strands from a wild grapevine. And about the time that Sister, Brother, and Bumps went coasting, Sammy and Susie Little Tail, the rabbits, passed the hollow stump bungalow of Uncle Wiggly Long Ears. The little bunnies were each pulling a sled made from pieces of birch bark they had nod from trees. Let's ask Uncle Wiggly to go coasting with us, spoke Susie. Oh yes, let's, echoed Sammy. It'll be lots of fun. And Uncle Wiggly was very glad to go coasting. Out of his bungalow he hopped, his pink nose twinkling twice as fast as the shiny star on top of the Christmas tree. Dear me, Wiggy, cried Nurse Jane, you don't mean to say you're going coasting with your rheumatism? No, I'm going coasting with Sammy and Susie, the laughing bunny answered. I haven't any rheumatism to go coasting with today, I'm glad to tell you. And surely enough, he didn't need to take his red, white, and blue striped crutch. When Sammy, Susie, and Uncle Wiggly reached the coasting hill, they found there many of the animal children. Oh, Uncle Wiggly, right on my sled, invited one after another, right on mine, coast with me. I'll take turns with each one, promised the bunny gentleman, and so he did, riding with Sammy and Susie first, then with the bushy tail squirrel brothers, next with Lulu, Alice and Jimmy Wibblewobble, the ducks, and so on down to Dottie and Willie Flufftail, the lamb children. Oh, such fun as Uncle Wiggly had on the animal children's coasting hill. And on the other side of the forest, sister, brother, and bumps had their fun with the real boys and girls. At last it began to grow dusk, and when Uncle Wiggly was thinking of telling the animal children it was time for them to leave for home, up came rushing Jackie and Petey Bow Wow, the puppy dog boys. Oh, Uncle Wiggly, barked Jackie, we were just over to the big hill where the real boys coast, and we saw, we saw a little baby girl that is almost a baby in a pile of snow, finished Petey, for his brother Jackie was out of breath and couldn't bark anymore. What's that? cried Uncle Wiggly, a real live little girl in the snow. Right in the snow drift, barked Jackie, all alone. Why? said the bunny gentleman as he thought it over. She must have been coasting with her brother or sister, and maybe she fell off a sled and went down deep in the snow, and they played so hard they never missed her. But she mustn't be allowed to stay asleep in the snow, she'll freeze. If she's only a little one, almost a baby, couldn't we put her on one of our sleds, asked Sammy, and ride her home, went on Susie. If we all pull together, we'd be strong enough to pull a real live girl, if she wasn't too large, quacked Jimmy Wibble Wobble the duck. We'll try, said Uncle Wiggly. All of you take the grapevine ropes from your sleds and follow me. Quickly the animal children did this, taking with them only the large double sled of netty stubtail, the boy bear, which was the largest sled of all. It was low and flat, and Uncle Wiggly thought it would be easy to roll a little girl up on it and pull her along. Soon Uncle Wiggly and the animal children reached the hill where the real boys and girls had coasted. None of them was there now, all having gone home to their suppers. Here she is, softly barked Jackie, leading the way to a snowbank at the foot of the hill. And there, sound asleep in the soft warm snow was bumps. Yes, as true as I'm telling you, bumps. The little girl had been sliding down with her sister and had rolled off the sled at the bottom of the hill, after about the forty-eleventh coast. And bumps was so tired and sleepy from having been outdoors so long, that as soon as she rolled from the sled into the snow, she fell asleep. Think of that. And as sister wanted to have a race with brother and some of the other children, she never noticed what happened to bumps. But there she was, in the snow asleep.  It will never do to leave her here, whispered Uncle Wiggly to the animal boys and girls. Don't awaken her, but roll her over on netty sled, and we'll pull her to her home. I know where she lives.   Her father and mother will come out and take her in. So all working together, pushing, pulling, tugging, and rolling most gently, the bunny gentleman and the animal boys and girls slid bumps upon the low sled of the bear boy. Then they fastened the grapevine ropes to it, and all taking hold, off they started over the snow toward the village. It was almost dark, so no one saw the strange procession of Uncle Wiggly and his friends. And the bunny gentleman was glad of this. Right up to the home of bumps they pulled her, and just as they got the sled in her yard, bumps opened her eyes. Oh, oh, oh! she cried when she saw all the animal children, and Uncle Wiggly, too, standing around her. I'm in Fairyland. Oh, how I love it. Quick! Sammy, Susie, Jackie, Petey, scoot away, called Uncle Wiggly in animal talk. And the rabbits, squirrels, guinea pigs, ducks, bears, beavers, and others all hopped away through the soft snow out of sight. Uncle Wiggly tossed a snowball at the door, making a sound like a knock, and then the bunny gentleman also hopped away, laughing to himself. He turned back in time to see the door open, and sister, brother, daddy, and mother rush out. Oh, here's Bumps now, cried brother. He must have forgotten and left her at the hill. Oh, that's what we did, exclaimed sister. Yes, but how did she get home? asked mother. She never walked, I'm sure.  Who brought you home, Bumps? asked daddy. Uh, a nice bunny man, and some little bunnies and squirrels, and a little bear boy, and some ducks and chickens and little lambs, and, and, but Bumps was out of breath now. Oh, she's been asleep and dreamed this, laughed brother. Some man must have found her and put her on this board for a sled to bring her home. Nope, declared Bumps. It was a bunny. It was a funny bunny. Bring her in the house, laughed mother. She must have been dreaming. But we know it wasn't a dream, don't we? And if the strawberry shortcake doesn't go swimming with the goldfish in the lemonade and catch cold, I'll tell you next about Uncle Wiggly and the picnic. End of Story 14. Story 15 of Uncle Wiggly's Storybook. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. Recording by Abbey J. Uncle Wiggly's Storybook by Howard R. Garris. Story 15. Uncle Wiggly's Picnic. Come on, Uncle Wiggly. Wake up, wake up. Called Nurse Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy in the hollow stump bungalow one morning. Come on. What's that? What's the matter? Is the chimney on fire again? Asked the bunny gentleman, and he was so excited that he slid down the banister instead of hopping along from step to step as he should have done. Of course the chimney isn't on fire, laughed Ms. Fuzzy-Wuzzy. But this is the day for the picnic of the animal children, and you promised to go with them to the woods. Oh, so I did, exclaimed Uncle Wiggly, and he put one paw on his pink nose to stop the twinkling, which started as soon as he grew excited over thinking the chimney was on fire. Well, I'm glad you called me, Nurse Jane. I'll get ready for the picnic at once. What are you going to put up for lunch? Oh, some carrot bread, turnip cookies, lettuce sandwiches, and nut cake, answered the muskrat lady. That sounds fine, laughed Uncle Wiggly. I'm very glad I'm going to the picnic. Well, you had better hurry and get ready, remarked Ms. Fuzzy-Wuzzy. Here come Jackie and Petey Bow-Wow to see if you aren't soon going to start. Uncle Wiggly looked from the window of his hollow stump bungalow and saw the two little puppy-dog boys coming along. Jackie was so excited that he stubbed his paw and fell down twice. While Petey was so anxious to show Uncle Wiggly what was in the package of lunch the puppies were going to take to the woods, that Petey fell down three times and turned it back somersault.  Barked Jackie. Hurry, or it may rain and spoil a picnic, added Petey. Oh, I hope not, answered the bunny gentleman, for if there is one thing more than another that spoils a picnic, it is rain. Snow isn't so bad, for we don't have picnics when it snows. Maybe it won't rain, hopefully spoke Nurse Jane, who is busy putting up lunch for Uncle Wiggly. There isn't a cloud in the sky. And surely enough, when Uncle Wiggly, Nurse Jane, and dozens of animal children started off to the woods for their picnic, the sun shone bravely down from the blue sky, and a more lovely day could not have been wished for. The forest where the bunny gentleman, Nurse Jane, and the animal children went for their picnic was a large one, with many trees and bushes. There were dozens of places for the squirrels, rabbits, goats, ducks, dogs, pussy cats, and others to play. And when they reached the grove, they put their lunches under bushes on the soft, cool, green moss and began to have fun.  And please come play ball with us, grunted curly and floppy twisty tail, the piggy boys. Have a game of marbles with us, teased Billy Wagtail the goat, and Jack O'Kinkytail the monkey chap. I'll play with you all, in turn, left the bunny gentleman.  Bully was quite excited. What's the matter, Bully? asked Uncle Wiggly. Oh, garump, croaked Bully. There is a big crowd of boys and girls over on the other side of the pond. There, having a picnic too. Garump, garump. Real boys and girls, added Bully, who is Bully's brother. Hump, bump. Well, that will do no harm, laughed Uncle Wiggly.  They will not see us. For very few boys and girls know how to use their eyes when they go to the woods. I have often hidden beside a bush close to where a boy passed, and he never saw me. Let the boys and girls have their picnic, and we'll have ours. So, that's the way it was. Uncle Wiggly and the animal children played tag, and they slid downhill. Perhaps you think they could not do this in summer when there was no snow, but the hills in the forest were covered with long, smooth, brown pine needles, and these layers of needles were so slippery that it was easy to slide on them. And then, all of a sudden, just about when it was time to eat lunch, it began to rain. Oh, how hard the drops pelted down! Rain, rain, rain! Scurry for shelter all of you, cried Nurse Jane! Get out of the rain! The animal boys and girls knew how to take care of themselves in a rainstorm, even if they had no umbrellas. Most of them had on fur or feathers, which water does not harm. And they snuggled down under trees and bushes, finding shelter and dry spots, so that no matter how hard it poured, they did not give very wet. They hid their lunches under rocks and overhanging trees, so nothing was spoiled. And when the rain was over, and the sun came out as it did, the animal picnic went on as before. And when the food was set out on flat stumps for tables, there was enough for everyone, and plenty left over. Nurse Jane was looking at what remained of the good things to eat, when Jackie Bow Wow, who with Peaty had been splashing in a mud puddle, came up wagging his tail. Oh, Uncle Wigley, barked Jackie, what do you think? Those real children on the other side of the wood? They had their things to eat out on some stumps for tables, just as we had, and when the rain came, oh, it spoiled everything. They didn't know how to keep their lunches dry, added Peaty.  That's too bad, murmured Uncle Wigley kindly. Too bad that the rain had to spoil their picnic. Now, we have plenty of things left that children could eat. Nuts, apples, some popcorn and pears. For the animal folk had brought all these, and many more, to the woods with them. We have lots left over. We could give them something to eat, spoke Nurse Jane, but how are we going to get it to them? We can't call them here, and it would never do to let them see us carrying the things to them. No, agreed Uncle Wigley, but I think I have a plan. We can make some baskets of birch bark. Some of the animal children, such as Jacko and Jumbo kinky tail, the monkeys, Joey and Tommy Cat, Johnny and Billy Bushy tail, the squirrels, are good tree climbers. Let them climb trees near where the real children are having their picnic, and lower to them on grapevine ropes the food we have left. Oh yes, Mute Tommy, the kitten boy. What jolly fun! Quickly Nurse Jane began to gather up the food. Uncle Wigley put it in birch bark baskets the animal children made, and then, with the baskets fastened to vines in their paws or claws, the animal boys went through the wood to the place of the other picnic. Uncle Wigley and the remaining animal children followed. There the poor disappointed real children were, looking at the rain soaked in spoiled lunches. Some of the little girls were crying. We might as well go home, grumbled the boy. Our picnic is no good. Mean old rain, sighed a girl. But just then, the animal chaps with lunch from Uncle Wigley's picnic, lunch which had not been rained on, climbed up into trees over the heads of the boys and girls. Not a sound did the animal chaps make. And when the real boys and girls had their backs turned, there were lowered to the stump tables enough good things for a jolly feast. Apples, pears, popcorn, nuts, and many other dainties. A little girl happened to turn around and see the birch bark baskets of good things, just as the animal boys scurried off through the trees. Oh, look! cried the girl. The fairies have been here. They have left us some lunch in place of ours that the rain spoiled. Oh, see the fairy lunch! And I suppose that is as good a name for it as any, since the boys and girls didn't see Uncle Wigley's friends lower the baskets from the trees. And the real boys and girls ate the lunch and had a most jolly time, and so did the bunny gentleman and his picnic crowd. Now, if the rubber plant doesn't stretch over and tickle the teapot so that it pours coffee instead of milk into the sugar bowl, you may next hear about Uncle Wigley in The Rainstorm. End of Story 15 Story 16 of Uncle Wigley's Storybook This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Abbey J. Uncle Wigley's Storybook by Howard R. Garris Story 16 Uncle Wigley's Rainstorm Down Pelted the Rain in Animal Land It also poured in Boy and Girl Land, which was on the other side of the forest from where Uncle Wigley long years lived in his hollow stump bungalow. The bunny rabbit gentleman looked out of a window and saw the drops fall, drip, drip, dripping from trees and bushes, making little puddles amid the leaves where the birds could come later and take a bath. You aren't thinking of going out in this storm, are you? Ask Nurse Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy, the muskrat lady bungalow keeper, as she saw Mr. Long Years putting on his coat. Why, I was, yes, slowly answered the bunny gentleman. I am neither sugar nor salt, that I will melt in the rain. And as it isn't freezing, I think I'll take a hop through the woods and see grandfather Goosey Gander. Well, as long as you are going out, I wish you'd go to the store for me, requested Miss Fuzzy-Wuzzy. What you want, asked the bunny gentleman. Bring a musk melon for dinner, said Nurse Jane. A watermelon would be much easier to carry through the rain, Uncle Wiggly answered. I think I'll bring a watermelon. If it gets wet, no harm is done. All right, agreed Nurse Jane, laughing. So a way hopped the bunny rabbit uncle over the fields and through the woods. It seemed to rain harder and harder, but Uncle Wiggly did not mind. He had an umbrella, though he did not always carry one. It was made from a toadstool, and it kept off most of the rain. Though, as Mr. Longyear said, he was neither a lollipop nor an ice cream cone that would melt in a shower. But not everyone was as happy as Uncle Wiggly in this storm. On the other side of the forest, as I told you, was boy and girl land, and in one of the houses lived a brother and a sister. They too stood at the window, pressing their noses against the glass as the rain beat down. And they were not happy. Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day. Brother and I want to go out and play. That is the verse the little girl recited over and over again, as she watched the rain pelting down. But the storm did not stop for all that she said, the verse backward and frontward. Will it ever stop? Crossley cried to the boy. Why doesn't it stop? And he drummed on the window sill. Banged his feet on the floor and whistled. And his sister loudly recited over and over again, rain, rain, go away. Children, children, gently called mother from where she was lying down in the next room. Can't you please be a little quiet? My head aches and I'm trying to rest. The noise makes my pain worse. We're sorry, mother, said the girl. But being quiet isn't any fun, grumbled the boy. Why can't we go out and play? Because you would get all wet, answered his mother. I've told you that two or three times, dear. Now please, be quiet. It will stop raining sometime, and then you may go out. What can we play with? asked the boy. Not very politely, I'm sorry to say. Why, some of your toys, replied his mother. Surely you have enough. I'm tired of them, grunted the boy. So my, echoed his sister. Then she began once more to say the verse about the rain, as if that would do any good.  Uncle Wiggly, on his way to see Grandpa Goosey Gander, and get a watermelon for Nurse Jane, took a shortcut through a field, and passed the house where the children were kept in on account of the rain. And, as it happened, the window near which the boy and girl stood was opened a little way at the top. So, as the bunny gentleman hopped past, he not only saw the children, but he heard what they said, being able, as I have before related to you, to understand real talk. But the children were looking up at the skies so intently, trying to see if it would stop raining, that they never noticed Uncle Wiggly. Though if they had seen him, all dressed as he was like a gentleman from the moving pictures, they would have been very much surprised. Too bad those children have to stay in on account of the rain, thought Uncle Wiggly. I wonder if I couldn't find some way of amusing them. If they are tired of their own playthings, I might toss in, through the open window, some of the things the animal boys and girls play with. I'll do it. Off through the woods in the rain, hopped Uncle Wiggly. He found a number of smooth brown acorns, some of which had the cups or caps still on. He filled one pocket with the acorns. Next, the bunny picked up some cones from the pine tree. There were large and small cones, and Nurse Jane always used one as a nutmeg grader, it was so rough, while Uncle Wiggly kept one near his bed to scratch his back at night. Let me see, what else would the animal children take? said the bunny to himself. I think they would take some green moss, and the girls would make beds with it for their dolls.  I'll take some moss and reeds. This, the bunny uncle did, also picking up some empty snail and periwinkle shells he found on the bank of a brook. The little girl can string these shells for beads, thought the bunny. And I'll strip off some pieces of white birch bark, so the boy can make a little canoe, as the Indians used to do. Having gathered all these things, play things which the animal children found in the woods every day, the bunny hopped back to the house of the boy and girl. The window was open, but the boy and girl had left it. The girl was giving her mother a drink of water, and the boy was bringing up some coal for the fire. This is my chance, thought Uncle Wigley. Standing outside, he tossed in through the open window the acorns, the pine cones, the shells, the moss, and other things. Then he hopped quickly away and hid behind a bush. He could hear the children come back into the room, and soon he heard the girl cry. Oh, look what the wind blew in! Some acorns! I can make little cups of them, and use the tops for saucers. And I'll set a play-party table for my doll, and decorate it with green moss. Oh, how perfectly lovely! I'm going to make a boat out of this birch bark, cried the boy, and look a hollow reed, like a bean blower. Now I can have some fun. Look at the lovely shells I can string, and make a necklace of, went on the girl. And I can make wooden legs and wooden head, and stick them on these pine cones, and make believe they're Noah's Ark animals, laughed the boy. Hooray! He cried most happily. What is going on out there, called mother from where she was lying down? Have you found something to play with? Yes, um, answered the boy. We'll be quiet now. And we don't care if it does rain, said the girl. The wind blew a lot of lovely things in the window. But of course, we know that Uncle Wigley tossed them in. I guess they'll be all right now, no matter how much it rains, said the bunny, as he hopped along to see Grandpa Goosey and buy the snow melon. Excuse me, I mean the watermelon, for Nurse Jane. So, this teaches us that sometimes a rainstorm is good for letting you find out new ways of having fun. And if the looking glass doesn't make funny faces at the rag doll, when she's trying to see if her hair ribbon is on backward, on the next page, you may read about Uncle Wigley and the mumps. Note, Uncle Wigley specially requests that the following story will not be read to children who have the mumps. Please wait until they are better. End of Story 16 Chapter 17 of Uncle Wigley's Storybook This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please check out the link in the description below. Visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mateo Bracic Uncle Wigley's Storybook by Howard R. Garris Chapter 17 Uncle Wigley and the Mumps Note, Uncle Wigley specially requests that the following story will not be read to children who have the mumps. Please wait until they are better. Uncle Wigley long years, the bunny rabbit gentleman, was hopping through the woods one day, and he was thinking of making his way over to the other side of the forest, where the real boys and girls lived, hoping he might have an adventure, when, all at once, Mr Long Years heard some voices talking behind a mulberry bush. I know what we can do, said the voice of a boy, as Uncle Wigley could tell, but he had learned to know the talk of boys and girls. Can we do? asked the voice of another boy. We can pick up a lot of stones, went on the first boy, and we can make believe we're hunters, and we can walk through the woods and throw stings at the birds, and squirrels, and rabbits. Come on, let's do it, don't want to do that, said the second boy. It isn't any fun to throw stones at birds and bunnies.  Puh, that's nothing, explained the first boy, and Uncle Wigley peaked over the top of the bush to see the manner of boys these were there, but the bunny-rabbit gentleman kept himself well hidden. I don't want any stones, thrown at me, he thought, and went on the second boy, who seemed rather kind. If you throw a stone at a rabbit, you might break its leg, and then it couldn't hop home to the baby rabbit. That is very true, thought Uncle Wigley, who was listening to all that went on. I wish there were more boys like this kind one. Well, I do care, grumble the first boy. I'm going off and throw stones at birds and rabbit and squirrel. And I'm going home, said the second boy. I don't feel very good. I have a pain in my cheek, and maybe I'm going to have a toothache. Goodness me, the stake's alive. I hope nothing like that happens to such a kind boy. Thought Uncle Wigley. And as for that other chap, I'll run ahead of him through the woods and tell my friends to hide so he can't throw stones at them. So while one boy went home and the other picked up some stones, Uncle Wigley skipped along through the woods, calling in his animal talk to his friends to hide themselves.  Hide, hide away from the stone-throwing boy. And so it happened that when the unkind chap came tramping through the woods, the only bird he saw stone was an old black crow, as black as black could be. Oh, it hit you, cried the boy as he threw a stone. But the crow was a wise old bird and wasn't even afraid of the scary stuffed men that farmers put in their cornfields. So the crow dodged the stone and then he laughed at the boy. Laugh, the old black crow. The boy grew very cross at this. And threw raw stones and some fell among the flower bushes, where some bees were gathering the sweet juices of flowers to make into honey. One stone knocked a bee off a blossom and spilled the honey it was gathering. Just for that, I'm going to sting that boy, buzzed the bee. How did Flittered, making such a zipping sound around that boy's head as to cause the bad chap to drop his stones and run away? So the bee did not have to sting him after all. Boys are no good, buzzed the bee to uncle Wiggly, as the honey chap flew back to the flowers.  And that reminds me, this boy said he didn't feel very well. I must hop over tomorrow and take a look at his house. I know where he lives. I hope he isn't going to have a toothache, but the kind boy, as I call him just for fun, you know, had something worse than a toothache. His neck and jaws began to swell in the night, and he could hardly swallow a drink of water, which his mother gave him, and she heard him tossing in bed. I suppose it's the matter of me, mother, asked the boy. Well, said mother, as she smoothed his pillow, perhaps you caught cold in the woods today. But it was worse than that, when the doctor came in the morning and looked at the boy and gently felt of his neck, even which gentle touch made the boy want to cry. The doctor said, mumps, asked the boy's mother. Did he fall down and bump himself? No, I said mumps, exclaimed the doctor. That's a swelling inside his neck, and it will hurt him a lot. But if you keep him in bed and warm, and give him easy things to eat, he'll soon be all right again.  Well, I suppose mumps are better than bumps. I'm not so sure about that, spoke the doctor as he walked to the door with the boy's mother. Whatever you do, he said in a whisper. Don't give him anything sour, such as lemons or pickles. Sour things make the mumps pain more than ever. Don't even speak of vinegar in front of him, or so much as whisper it. I won't, promised mother.  At least she called it fun. I'm going to stand in front of brother and hold up a pickle so he can see it, said sister to herself. I want to see what he'll do. So sister hurried down to the kitchen and brought up a pickle. Then she went in the room where brother was in bed, and, holding the sour pickle in front of him, called, Look!  Stop showing me that, that! Well, he couldn't even say the word pickle, for just the thought of anything sour hurts your mumps, you know. The boy hid his face in his pillow, and when he couldn't see the pickle, he felt a little butter. The boy hid his face in his pillow, and when he couldn't see the pickle, he felt a little better.  Lemons, lemons, nice sour lemons! She called teasingly. Stop it! Stop it! Beg the boy. Oh how my mumps hurt! Mother! And when mother came and found what sister was doing, she made the little girl go to bed, even though it was daytime. You will very likely get the mumps yourself, said mother, and I hope no one says anything sour to you. And, later on, sister did get the mumps, but I'm glad to say her brother did not hold a lemon up in front of her, or, as I told you, even the thought of anything sour hurts the mumps. Now you know the reason why I didn't want you to read this story when you had the swelling in your neck. It was better to wait until the mumps were gone, wasn't it? So this boy had the mumps, and he had them on both sides once, which is the very worst form. He could hardly swallow anything because of the pain, even things that were not sour.  His mother put a warm flannel bandage around his face, which was much swell, and, last wrapped up, for the little boy could, now and then, get out of bed. It was on one of these times, when his jaws were wrapped up and his face swollen, that Uncle Wiggly happened to belong through the woods, not far from the mump-boy's house, and, having very good eyes, Mr. Longhears saw the sick lad. Poor fellow, thought the bunny gentleman.  Toothache it is, too. Who has a toothache? asked Dr. Possum, for the animal doctor came along just then with his bag of medicine held fast in the curl of his tail. That boy answered Uncle Wiggly, pointing from the bush, where he and Dr. Possum were hiding, to the window of the boy's home. He hasn't the toothache, those are the mumps, said Dr. Possum, who knew all about such things. Mumps, exclaimed Uncle Wiggly. Oh, that's too bad. Why, if that boy is mumpy, he must have trouble eating. I wonder if I could leave on his doorstep something he would like, something that he wouldn't have to chew, and which would slip down easily. Whatever you leave for him, don't have it sour, advised Dr. Possum, as he hurried along to see curly twisty tail, the biggy boy, who had cut his nose on a piece of glass while digging for wild sunflower roots in the woods. Huh, nothing sour for the muck boy, said Uncle Wiggly to himself, and Dr. Possum hopped away. Then something sweet will be just the proper thing. Sweet honey, I have it. I'll ask my friends, the bees, for some of their honey. I'll get Nurse Jane to make a little pail of birch bark, and I'll leave the wild honey on the boy's stoop. Off hopped the bunny gentleman until he found where the bees had their home in a hollow tree. Could you give me some honey for a good boy with bad mumps? asked the rabbit. Some honey for a good boy with a bad mumps? said the queen bee. Certainly Uncle Wiggly, as much as you like. Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the bunny's muskrat lady housekeeper, made a little box of white bark from the bird's tree, and when this pretty box was filled with wild sweet honey, Uncle Wiggly took it with him one evening. It was time for the muck boy to go to bed, but the pain in his neck was so bad that he cried. I'm hungry too, he said.  I'll try to think of something for you, said Mother Wearily. Just then Uncle Wiggly hopped to the edge of the forest, close to the mump boy's house, and running up, he put the birch box of wild honey on the stoop. Then the bunny threw some little stones at the door and hopped away, hiding in the bushes. Wait until I see who's at the door, said Mother, as she smoothed the boy's pillow, then I'll get you something. She looked out on the porch and saw the little birch bark box. It looks like a valentine, she thought. So this isn't valentine's day. What is it? asked the boy. Is it anything I can eat that won't hurt my mumps? Well yes, yes it is, joyfully said his mother, as she saw what it was. Sweet wild honey! Even the name, so different from sour pickles or lemons, made the mumps boy feel better. Please give me some, he begged. It sounds good! The wild sweet honey slipped down as gently as a feather, not hurting the boy's neck at all. And soon after that he went to sleep, and in a few days he was better. Uncle Wiggly saw the boy at the window, the bandage no longer on his face, and he even saw the boy eating the last of the wild honey. I guess he liked it. Oh, the bunny, as he hopped away. When the boy was all better, and could be out and play, he asked all of his friends which one it was who had left the honey on the porch. One and all answered, I didn't do it! I wonder who it was, said the boy. Over and over again. Well, we know, don't we? But we aren't allowed to tell. And when the boy's sister caught the mumps, Uncle Wiggly left her some honey also. Which was very kind of him, I think. So, if the little pussy cat doesn't drop her penny in the snowbank, thinking it will turn into a dollar so she can buy a box of lollipops, you may next hear about Uncle Wiggly and the measles. End of Chapter 17. Chapter 18 of Uncle Wiggly's Storybook This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Matej Abracic. Uncle Wiggly's Storybook By Howard R. Garris Chapter 18 Uncle Wiggly and the Measles Once upon a time there was a boy who didn't like to go to school. Every chance he had, he stayed at home, instead of going to his classes to learn his lessons. Sometimes he would get up in the morning and say, Mother, I think I'm going to have the toothache. I guess I better not go to school today. But his mother would laugh and say, Oh, run along. If you get the toothache in school, the teacher will let you come home. Then the boy would go to school, though he didn't want to, and he would be thinking up some new excuse for staying home. So really, he did not recite his lessons as well as he might. One day, this boy came running in the house, all excited, and called out, Oh, Mother, I just know I can't go to school tomorrow. Why not? asked Mother, because I've been playing with the boy across the street. And he's got the measles, and I'll catch him, and I can't go to school. You ought to see, he's all covered with red spots. The boy who didn't like school was much excited. He's all red spots, he exclaimed. Is he? asked Mother. Well, the measles aren't painful, though they are catching, as you children say. However, you can't catch them quite as soon as one day. So you may go to school until you break out with red spots. Then it will be time enough to stay at home. Can't I stay home tomorrow? begged the boy. Of course not, laughed Mother.  Time enough to stay home when you get the measles. Now, of course, this did not suit that boy at all. When he went to bed, he was thinking and thinking of some plan by which he could stay home from school. For there was to be a hard lesson next day, and, though I am sorry to say it, that boy was too lazy to study as he ought. If I could only break out with the measles, I could stay home. He kept saying over and over again as he lay in the bed. Every now and then, he would get up, turn on the electric light in his room, and look at himself in the glass to see if any red spots were coming. But he could see none. What's the matter, boy, see? His mother called to him from her room. Why are you so restless? Maybe I'm getting the measles, he hopefully answered. Nonsense! Go to sleep! laughed Daddy. Finally the boy did go to sleep, but either he dreamed it or the idea came to him in the night for, early in the morning, he awakened and, slipping on his bathrobe, went into his sister's room. Hey, sis! he whispered, where's your box of paints? What do you want them for? asked sister.  Sister was too sleepy, for it was only early morning as yet to wonder much about it, so she told her brother where to find the paints, and then she turned over and went to sleep again. Now what do you suppose that boy did?  Then this boy put the paints away and waited. After a while, mother called. Come, boysie, time to get up and go to school. I… I don't guess I'd better go to school this morning, said the boy, trying to make his voice sound weak and ill and faint like. Not go to school? Why not? cried mother in surprise. I… I'm all red spots, the boy answered. And when his mother went in his room and saw that he really was spotted, she exclaimed, Why, you have the measles. I didn't think they'd break out so soon. Well, you must stay in the dark on account of your eyes. I'll bring you in some breakfast, and of course you can't go to school. Then that boy had to put the bed quilt over his mouth, so he wouldn't laugh. If his room had been light, his mother, of course, would have seen that the spots were only red paint. But in the dimness of early morning, she didn't see. Isn't brother going to school? asked sister, as she ate her breakfast. He has the measles, said mother. I expect you'll come down with them next, and break out in a day or so. But wait until you do. And if sister thought anything about her red paint, she said nothing. I don't believe she ever imagined her brother would play such a trick. At first, after his sister had gone to school, and he had been given his breakfast in bed, the boy thought it was going to be lots of fun to pretend to have the measles and stay home from school. But after a while, this began to grow tiresome. It was a beautiful warm, sun-shiny day outside, and staying in a dark room wasn't as much fun as that boy had thought. He could hear the bees humming outside as open window. The birds were singing. His mother opened the door and spoke to him. I'm just going across the street a few minutes, she said. You'll be all right, won't you? Yes, answered the boy. My measles don't hurt hardly any. And of course they couldn't, being only painted measles, you know. When mother went away, softly closing the door after her, the sound of the buzzing bees and the singing birds came to the boy through his window. He knew it must be lovely outside, yet he had to stay in bed. But I can get up and run out for a little while, he said to himself. Mother will never know. No sooner thought than done. The boy quickly put on some clothes, not many, for it was summer, and out into the yard he went. His face all red paint spots. He didn't dare wash them off, or his mother would have noticed. Now it happened that Uncle Wiggly, the bunny rabbit gentleman, was out that day, taking a walk with grandfather Goosey Gander. The two friends passed through the woods, close to the edge of the yard of the house, where the make-believe measles boy lived. And the boy saw the bunny gentleman, all dressed up as Uncle Wiggly was. Grandpa Goosey also had on his coat and trousers. Uncle Wiggly wore his golf suit that day. Black and white checkered trousers and a cap. What a funny rabbit!  I'm going to catch him and have a play circus in my yard. Forgetting that he was supposed to be suffering from the measles, this boy chased after Uncle Wiggly and Grandpa Goosey. We'd better run, quacked the Goose gentleman.  Better run, what? I believe you, answered Uncle Wiggly. Run it is! Off hop the money, off waddled the Goose. But the boy was a fast runner, in spite of the red spots on his face, and he came nearer and nearer to Uncle Wiggly. I'm afraid he's going to catch me, Grandpa. Spoke Mr Longyear's in animal talk, of course, which the boy could not hear, much less understand. Hop faster, quacked Grandpa, who was half running and half flying. On came the boy. Grandpa Goosey, who was ahead, looked back and saw that Uncle Wiggly was soon going to be caught. There is only one way to save the bunny, thought Grandpa Goosey. I'll splash the water in that boy's face and eye, so he can't see for a moment. Then Uncle Wiggly and I can get away. Near the path along which the boy was chasing the bunny and Goose, was a puddle of water. As quick as a wink, Grandpa Goosey splashed into this, and with his wings and wet feet, he sent such a shower of water into the face of the boy, that the bad chap had to stop. Oh, ouch, stop splashing me, cried the boy. His face was all wet, but he wiped it off on his sleeve, and with his handkerchief. And when he had cleared his eyes of water, he started to run again. But by this time, Uncle Wiggly and Grandpa Goosey were far off, hidden in the forest, and the boy could not find them. I guess I'd better go back home and get into bed, thought the boy. Mother will be looking for me. He was just going in the house, and his mother came up the steps. Why, Boise, exclaimed mother, you shouldn't have gone out with the measles. Why, where are your measles? She asked, for the spots were gone.  What happened? The boy remembered the water that Grandpa Goosey had splashed up from the puddle. He took out his handkerchief and looked at it. That, too, was red. Why, it's red paint, cried mother. Oh, Boisey, how could you play such a trick? And she felt so sad that tears came into her eyes. What made you do it, Boisey? I didn't want to go to school. The boy answered, softly and much ashamed.  Now I'll have to take you to school myself, but I won't tell teacher what you did. That is, I will not if you study your lessons well. I will, mother. I will, to make believe measles boy promised. I'll never want to stay home from school again. And he never did. Even when he really had the measles, which broke out on him about a week later, but he did not have them very hard, though he didn't need any of his sister's paints to make red spots. And when Grandpa Goosey looked in the window of the boy's house, and saw the little chap with his face all speckled, the goose gentleman said, serves him right for chasing Uncle Wiggly and me. Well, perhaps it did. Who knows? Anyhow, if it should happen that the doorknob doesn't turn around and try to crawl through the keyhole when the milk bottle chases the pussycat off the back stoop, then I may tell you next about Uncle Wiggly and the chicken pox. End of Chapter 18. Chapter 19 of Uncle Wiggly's Storybook This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Matea Bracic. Uncle Wiggly's Storybook by Howard R. Garris Chapter 19. Uncle Wiggly and the Chicken Pox One day, Charlie and Arabella Chick, the little rooster and hen children of Mrs. Cluckluck, the hen lady, came fluttering over to Uncle Wiggly's hollow stump bungalow. Oh, Uncle Wiggly, cackled Arabella, what do you think has happened? Well, I hardly am able to guess, answered the bunny gentleman. I do hope, though, that your coop isn't on fire. You seem much too excited, my dears. Well, I guess you'd be excited, too, if a boy threw stones at you. Crone Charlie. Wouldn't you? Indeed I would, admitted Uncle Wiggly. Once a boy did stone me, and I didn't like it at all. We don't like it either, called Arabella. Isn't there some way you can stop that boy from throwing sticks and stones at us? Charlie wanted to know. Tell me about it, suggested Uncle Wiggly. Well, it's this way, began Arabella. This boy lives on the other side of the big forest. Sometimes Charlie and I go over there to pick up beach nuts and other good things to eat, and every time that boy sees us, he pegs things at us. Would you call him a bad boy, Uncle Wiggly? Most surely I would, answered the rabbit gentleman. But why does he do it? You don't crow over him, do you, Charlie? No, indeed, answered the rooster boy. I only crowed warn Arabella when I see that fellow coming, to tell her to run and hide under a bush. And I don't pick him or scratch gravel at him or anything like that, cackled little hen girl. I wish he'd let us alone, Uncle Wiggly. We came over to see if you could think up a way to make him stop, crowed Charlie. Can you? Hmm, I'll try, promised the bunny gentleman, twinkling his pink nose like the frosting on top of an orange shortcake. Suppose we go look for this boy? Went on, Uncle Wiggly, so I'll know him when I see him. I can show you his house, offered Charlie, but we'll have to be careful, for if he sees us, he'll peg things at us. Let us hope not, moment, Uncle Wiggly. But it was a vain hope, as they say in fairy books, for after Uncle Wiggly, Charlie and Arabella had gone to the other side of a forest there all of a sudden they saw the boy. Hi, there are those funny dressed up chickens, shouted the boy, who had red hair and a face full of freckles. And there's a rabbit with them, all dressed up in a tall silk hat. Oh my, what style. I'm going to see if I can knock his hat off with a stone. I'm going to peg rocks at him. See, what did I tell you? cackled Arabella, who could understand boy talk, as could also Charlie and Uncle Wiggly. Bang! bounced a stone on Uncle Wiggly's tall silk hat, sending it spinning through the air. Ha ha! laughed the boy, as he picked up another stone. I'm a good sharp I am. I should call that rather a bad shot. For my hat! remarked Uncle Wiggly, as he picked up his silk hat and hopped towards the bushes. Come on Arabella and Charlie, I'll call the bunny gentleman. This boy is acting just as you said he did. I must think up some way of teaching him a lesson. The little hen girl and rooster boy scooted under the bushes, and only just in time, for the boy threw many more stones, and one struck Charlie on the comb, not the comb that he used to make his feather smooth, but the red comb on his head, one of his ornaments, his tail feathers being others. Hi fellows!  But though some of his chums ran up, as he called, with sticks and stones, Uncle Wiggly, with Charlie and Arabella, managed to hide away from the thoughtless lads. For they were thoughtless. They didn't think that stones hurt animals. Yes, I certainly must teach that boy a lesson, said Uncle Wiggly. I wish he'd catch the chicken pox, cried Charlie, or maybe the rooster pox. Then he'd have to stay in and couldn't chase us. I wouldn't care if he had the mumps and toothache at the same time, cackled Arabella. For several days Uncle Wiggly watched for a chance to teach the thoughtless boy a lesson, and at last it came. The bunny gentleman was out hopping in the woods one morning, when he met Charlie and Arabella, fluttering along the forest path. Oh, Uncle Wiggly, said Arabella in a cackling whisper, that boy is asleep now, on a bed of moss under a tree. He's sleeping hard too, for Charlie and I went close to him, and he didn't awaken. Maybe you can do something to him now. Maybe I can, said Uncle Wiggly. I'll go see. He hopped through the woods with the chicken children, and soon came to where the boy was asleep under a tree. It was a pine tree, with sticky gum oozing from the trunk and branches. And as soon as the bunny gentleman saw this gum, he whispered, I have an idea. I'll teach this boy a lesson. How? asked Charlie. I'll make him think he has a chicken box, or something worse. Answered the bunny with a silent laugh. Goodie! cackled Arabella. Ha ha! crewed Charlie. Quiet now, chicken children! whispered Uncle Wiggly. Each of you pull me out a few loose feathers. Charlie and Arabella did this. Then the bunny uncle took some of the soft gum from the pine tree, and put spots of it on the face and hands of the sleeping boy. Though he stirred a little, the boy did not awaken. When the boy was well spotted with the sticky gum, Uncle Wiggly took the chicken feathers that Charlie and Arabella had plucked, and fastened these feathers on the boy's face and hands in the gum. Oh, how funny he looks! softly cackled Arabella. Hush! cautioned Uncle Wiggly, putting his paw on his pink twinkling nose. Let him sleep! Drawing back into the bushes, Uncle Wiggly, Charlie and Arabella waited for the boy to awaken, which he did pretty soon. He turned over, sat up, and stretched. Then he looked at his hands, and saw chicken feathers stuck on them. Oh! oh! cried the boy. What has happened to me? He jumped to his feet, and caught sight of himself in the spring of water that was like a looking-glass. Oh! oh! cried the boy again. This is terrible! oh, my face! Whom he ran through the woods, while Charlie and Arabella laughed to see him go. Oh, mother! mother! look at me! cried the boy. I'm all feathers! I must have the chicken pox! Goodness me! sakes alive and a basket of eggs! exclaimed the boy's mother.  The chicken pox is spots like the measles, but you are covered with feathers. But how did I get this way? asked the boy as he pulled off some of the feathers. I wasn't like it when I went to sleep in the woods. Maybe a fairy did it, spoke his little sister, who believed in them. Puh! there aren't any fairies, sneered the boy. I guess it was that hen and rooster I stoned. Did you do that? asked his mother. Did you? Uh, a little, stammered the boy. Well, it isn't any wonder you're this way then, mother said. And for all I know you make the real chicken pox. And, as true as I'm telling you, that boy did. But he was not made very ill, for some reason or other. Perhaps because he had to be washed so clean to get off the sticky pine gum and the feathers, the chicken pox did not go in very deeply. At any rate, when the boy was all well again, he threw no more stones at Charlie or Arabella.  And I really think the bunny did. So if toy balloon doesn't take the spout of the tea kettle to blow beans through at the egg beater, I'll tell you next about Uncle Wiggly's Halloween. Chapter 20 of Uncle Wiggly's Storybook This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Lawrence Trask, Mount Vernon, Ohio, interfaceaudio.com. Uncle Wiggly's Storybook, by Howard R. Garris. Chapter 20 Story 20, Uncle Wiggly's Halloween Hopping under the bushes one day near the edge of the forest, nearest to where live the real boys and girls, Uncle Wiggly Long Ears, the bunny rabbit gentleman, heard two boys talking together. We'll put a tic-tac on her window, said the first boy. And she'll be scared stiff, said the second boy. Oh, what fun we'll have this Halloween! Hmm! thought the bunny rabbit gentleman to himself after hearing this. It may be fun for you, but how about whoever it is you're going to scare stiff? I only hope it isn't my nice muskrat lady housekeeper, nurse Jane Fuzzy, was he? Uncle Wiggly twinkled his pink nose and listened with both ears. Yes, went on the first boy. And we'll have a lot of fun this Halloween with tic-tacs and the like of that. And we'll put on false faces, so the little old lady of Mulberry Lane won't know us. Oh! so that's the one they're going to play tricks on, is it? thought Uncle Wiggly to himself. The little old lady of Mulberry Lane. I know her. Poor creature, she lives all alone. And she may have a cupboard, like Old Mother Hubbard, but she hasn't a dog or a bone. I suppose, thought Uncle Wiggly, that Jackie or Petey Bowa would stay with her if she wanted them. I must see about it. But first of all, I must plan some way so these mischievous boys won't put a tic-tac on the window of the little old lady of Mulberry Lane. I know what tic-tacs are. And well, Uncle Wiggly knew, for sometimes the boys and girls of Woodland, near the Orange Ice Mountains, where the bunny had built his hollow stump bungalow, put one of the scary things on his window. That is, they were scary if they didn't know what they were. But Uncle Wiggly did. Oftentimes, Sammy Little-Tale, the rabbit, or Johnny and Billy Bushy-Tale, the squirrels, would take some string, a pin, and an old nail, or little stone, and make a tic-tac. They fastened a short piece of string to the pin, and on the other end of the string, they tied a dangling stone. When it grew dark, the animal chaps would sneak up to Uncle Wiggly's window, and stick the pin in the wooden sash so the stone, or nail, hung dangling down against the glass. Then they would tie the long string, or thread, about halfway down on the short cord, and hide off in the bushes, with one end of the long string in their paws. From their hiding place, the animal boys would pull the long string. The pebble or stone would rattle against Uncle Wiggly's window, making a sound like tic-tac. That's how it got its name, you see. So they're going to play tic-tac on the little old lady of Mulberry Lane, are they? said Uncle Wiggly to himself as the two boys walked away. Well, I must try to stop them. Mulberry Lane was a street near the forest, where the bunny gentleman lived in his hollow stump bungalow, and the little old lady was the only one whose house was built there. The bunny liked the little old lady, for in winter she scattered crumbs for the birds. Uncle Wiggly hopped home to his hollow stump, and from the attic he took down one of his old tall silk hats. What in the world are you doing, Uncle Wiggly? asked Nurse Jane. Do you think it is April Fool, and are you going to wear an old hat so the animal boys won't play tricks on you? Well, not exactly, the bunny answered. I'll tell you later, Miss Fuzzy-Wuzzy, if it works. Hmm, said the muskrat lady housekeeper as she saw Mr. Long Ears, put in his pocket some pieces of white paper and a pot of paste. I do believe he's going to fly a kite, and on Halloween of all nights. For it quickly became Halloween night. As soon as the dusky shadows of evening began to fall, strange figures flitted to and fro, not only in the woods of the animal folk, but on the other side in the village where the real boys and girls lived. Real boys with the heads of wolves, the faces of clowns, and some as black as the charcoal man, skipped here and there, ringing doorbells, outlining a chalk on the steps, something that looked like an envelope, or else they tapped on windows with long sticks so that when the windows were opened no one could be seen. Uncle Wiggly, hopping off through the darkness toward the edge of the forest, carried with him one of Nurse Jane's old rooms, an old tall silk hat, and a coat the bunny gentlemen had long ago tried to throw in the rag bag. Only Miss Fuzzy-Wuzzy wouldn't let him. I'll mend it, sew on some new buttons, and it'll be good as ever, she said. Well, Uncle Wiggly found this coat and took it with him. I'll stop those boys from putting a tic-tac on the window of the little old lady of Mulberry Lane. Thought the bunny is he hopped along. I'll tic-tac them. He kept in the shadows of the trees, so none of the animal children saw him. But the bunny gentlemen saw them. He saw Nettie's stub-tail, the boy-bear, dressed up like a pipsis-swa, and Billy Wagtail, the goat, had on a false face, just like the skinny skeez-ix. Here and there animal girls were hurrying to Halloween parties. Lulu and Alice Wibble-Wobble, the ducks were giving one, and Baby Buntie, the little rabbit girl, had been invited to bob for carrots at the house of Buddy and Bright-Eyes, the guinea pigs. Jacky and P.D. Bow-Wow, who were dressed in clown suits, hurrying to have fun with Johnny and Billy Bushetail, the squirrels, caught sight of Uncle Wiggly. Come and have some Halloween fun with us, barked Jacky. I will in a little while, promised the bunny. On and on he hopped, and soon he came to the house of the little old lady of Mulberry Lane. The bunny could look in her window and see her reading a book by the light of a candle. Well, hide under her window, thought the bunny, and when those boys come with the tic-tac, we'll see what happens. Uncle Wiggly did not have long to wait. Pretty soon he heard a rustling in the bushes, and some whisperings. Here they come! thought Mr. Long Ears. He put the extra tall silk hat on top of the broom, and fastened his old coat to the handle on a cross-stick he had nailed there. Then, taking the pieces of white paper from his pocket, Uncle Wiggly pasted them on the shiny part of the old silk hat in the shape of a grinning jack-o-lantern face. Then the bunny crouched down behind the bushes with the scarecrow he had made. You sneak up and fasten on the tic-tac, whispered one boy, and I'll pull the string so it'll rattle and scare the old lady stiff. I want to pull the string too, said the other boy. Yes, you can after you fasten on the tic-tac. We'll give it here then, said the second boy. They were so close to the bush, behind which Uncle Wiggly was hidden, that the bunny could have reached out and touched them with his paw if he had wished. But he didn't do that. Instead, Uncle Wiggly suddenly lifted up the broom, dressed as it was in the old coat and the tall hat with the grinning white paper face like a jack-o-lantern. Bunk! groaned the rabbit, scary-like. The boys, who were just getting ready to frighten the little old lady of Mulberry Lane, jumped up and frightened themselves. They saw the queer face, laughing at them. Oh, it's a Halloween hobgoblin! A hobgoblin! cried one boy.  Let's get out of here! And dropping string, tic-tac, and everything away they ran. They never knew that it was only a money-rabbit gentleman who had surprised them. Ha-ha! laughed Uncle Wiggly as he peered out from behind the broom-stick and the scary tall hat creature he had made. I guess they won't bother the old lady now. The little old lady of Mulberry Lane laid aside the book she had been reading and opened her door. Is anybody there? she gently asked, looking out over her dark garden. Seems to me I heard a noise-like. Is anybody there trying to play Halloween tricks on a poor lone body like me? Anybody there? No one answered, not even Uncle Wiggly. For he couldn't speak real talk, you know, but he heard what the old lady said. Nobody there?  But we know it wasn't the wind, don't we?  The frightened boys ran home and jumped into bed. And if the piano key doesn't unlock the door of the phonograph and let all the music run down the pussycat's tail, you may next hear of Uncle Wiggly and the poor dog.


That's because you can't satiate to a green yes because you're not consuming it. You all catch on what we're talking about. The point is here, satiation, there's some argument in the field, although I don't believe there's an argument or there should be. I've been swayed by the evidence overwhelmingly. But the point is that satiation is a decreased effectiveness of a reinforcer, right? It specifically needs to be a consumatory reinforcer or an repetitive reinforcer. It needs to be one that has to do with food, okay?  That's called satiation. You are satiated. You're full. You've had enough. It's no longer an effective reinforcer. Why? Because you satiated to it. That's a tricky... Anyway, so you satiate to it, right? So a reinforcer that is decreased in value simply due to satiation or presenting too much, eating it too much, loses its effectiveness. That's satiation. It's closely related to habituation, although not on my hands.


Recessions do not exist for real estate agents. If you're worried about the current situation that we're in, I'm gonna link a video below that I made about a year ago about how recessions do not exist for real estate agents. But today I wanna talk about Zillow. Will Zillow survive this situation? Now, I've been talking about this for years as well. There's actually two things I've been talking about with this subject. It is their i-buyer business where they're buying homes and selling those homes. And also that where they're selling leads to real estate agents. Both of these businesses, I believed, and I've believed for a long time that could be completely compromised by a market downturn like the one that we're in currently. You see, the purpose of their i-buyer business was to buy homes at a discount and resell them for a profit. The problem is that they're selling them on average for a loss, okay? And so as they're buying properties and buying more and more properties, if the market were to downturn at all and they're holding a lot of these properties that they're already taking a loss on, what is that gonna do to them? Okay, so here recently, about a week ago, Zillow came out and said that they're not going to buy any more homes right now. What does that tell you? It tells you that they're in trouble. And I wish they would have seen this coming. I wish that they would have been a little more mindful on, okay, if we're taking a loss on every house that we buy and the market is just going up and up and up and up for the last decade, it's bound to go down at some point. Why would we put ourselves in a position where we own a lot of homes we're taking a loss on? And then if the market decides to take a downturn, then we're absolutely upside down. I didn't really understand that philosophy to be honest with you, but hey, they're Zillow and they do what they wanna do. Something else I've been talking about for a really long time is their business with selling leads to real estate agents, okay? So this was more so for the agents that are buying the leads. And I've always said that you're buying these expensive leads, it makes no sense. You're paying several hundred dollars for someone that you could, a random person in your market that you could have met at Walmart or a gas station, right? It's just random person, no idea what their intentions are, what's going on out. There are some agents that do well with Zillow, okay? But I still just believe it's one of the most ineffective things you can do in your business, okay? Talking to property owners that contact information you buy for less than two cents, okay? All day long, unlimited supply, you call them all day, is the most effective thing you can do. These are your best, most efficient clients. They already own the type of property you wanna sell.  And now your business was 100% dependent on the leads that you're buying from these companies, Zillow, Realtor.com, all these different companies, your business is dependent on someone providing you leads. All right, that's not a good situation of being if the market takes a downturn and all the leads dry up. You have to be in a position where you can create your own leads. You have to be in a position where you have an unlimited amount of quality leads at all times, regardless of what the market does at the lowest price possible. So if you've been following me for a while, you know that I've been talking about these exact things for years and years and years now, and here we are. Everything's kinda coming to fruition. What I want you to do is be happy for yourself if you're in position to take this crash on.  Okay, create a new foundation moving forward. Will Zilla survive this situation? I'm sure they will. They're a master at losing money and continuing to be in business. Either way it goes, I'm gonna be right here doing what I've always been doing is trying to prepare you for these kinds of situations and doing everything I can do to bring you as much value for absolutely zero money.  So click that link for the next video. Recessions do not exist for real estate agents and we'll see you guys on the next video. Let's go.


It's caused by a known gene mutation. And the gene was actually discovered in 1993, but up till now we still don't have a cure for it. So the disease causes a dance like chorea movement in the patients, and also mood changes. I look at a thing called histone modifications. So histones are these little ball type molecules that DNA winds around, and these histones can have little chemicals added to them, and so it becomes like a ball with protruding bits coming out of it. So we study the disease in healthy compared to Huntington's disease brains, and these are brains that have been gifted to the Neurological Foundation human brain bank. And we're able to study these, so after the people have died they gift us these brains. And in these brains we can see when we compare the healthy to the Huntington's, that actually this modification, where the molecules are protruding out, that's really ingreased in Huntington's disease. Because we're looking at the end stage of the disease, so these people have died, we don't actually have enough information to say whether this change that we're seeing is causing the disease or actually a product of the disease. So it's like a chicken or an egg, right? We don't actually know whether it's cause or consequence. So what I'm really interested in is being able to study the disease at an earlier stage so that we can investigate whether by manipulating diet or by introducing different drugs can we actually alter the disease progression.