It was a dull, dark, rainy morning,
just the nicest kind of a day to stay indoors. The
windows were closed, and a bright fire was burning in the
fireplace.
A fly was having a wonderful time
walking on a mirror over the fireplace. It was very
much pleased with itself and much amused at its
reflection in the glass. It would fly away, and
then fly back quickly to the mirror. This was great
sport, and with its many, many eyes it could
see when a hand was raised to catch it. Tiring of the
mirror, it suddenly remembered that flies
could walk on the ceiling. So it flew up there and walked
ever so far across the ceiling, never once
falling. This made it very venturesome, so it looked
about for something else to do.
What a noise! A door was opened, and
someone crossed the room and opened a
window. Now that the fly looked about, it saw the sun was
shining brightly, the rain was over, so
it flew straight to the open window and out into the warm
sunshine.
It was just a little fly without
much experience.
And for once it was alone—no one
to say: "Don 't go there"; "Be careful." Oh, it was
delightful to be free. Now was the time to see the great
wide world it had heard so much about.
So it flew over to a honeysuckle vine where a bee was
gathering sweetness from the flowers and
buzzing merrily. It watched the bee admiringly. Then the
bee flew away and the fly went too. Into
the woods they went, for the bee was a wild bee and lived
in the woods. As they flew along
together they became good friends.
"Do you like the woods?" buzzed the
bee.
"This is the first time I have ever
been here," replied the fly.
"Oh," said the bee, "then take care
where you go. Don't be too venturesome. Be
happy and enjoy yourself, but keep a sharp lookout for
flytraps or you may get caught."
"Silly bee," thought the fly; "I'm
all eyes, and quick and sure-footed. I have nothing
to fear. I will have my great adventure."
"Well," buzzed the bee, "I must be
going." Buzz, buzz, and it was gone. And the fly
was all alone.
Lighting on a nice cool green
flower to rest, the adventurer looked down into this
strange blossom.
A rustle in the leaves nearby
startled the ever-watchful fly, and a bird warned: "Be
careful; that Jack-in-the-pulpit looks very pious, but he
bears watching." Now do you know this
made the fly more venturesome than ever. It could take
care of itself, it thought, and it would
make friends with this Jack-in-the-pulpit. Was he not
known as the woodland preacher?
The fly seemed to hear a little voice
saying: "Come down into my pulpit. Don't be
afraid."
You know Jack-in-the-pulpit, don't
you? How straight he stands in the flower, with
a wonderful leaf folded in such a way that it makes a
pulpit with a sounding board overhead.
"Don't be afraid," said the wee
voice.
"Who's afraid?" said the fly,
"I'll be right down."
Down, down, ventured the tiny
visitor, admiring the beautiful shiny, striped walls of
green and maroon and black. At the foot of the pulpit
were the prettiest clusters of tiny flowers,
round and greenish. The fly lighted on one of these
flowers, and a wee voice said: "We are the
little flowers that Jack guards so carefully until by and
by we become bright scarlet berries. And
then out of his pulpit Jack will step so everyone can see
the scarlet babies."
The fly was quite thrilled to have
discovered Jack-in-the-pulpit's secret. It was stuffy
down at the foot of the pulpit, so the adventurer started
to crawl out for a breath of air. But that
was not so easy, for the walls were very slippery, and
its feet did not hold. Strange, it could walk
on a ceiling or a shiny mirror, but this was different.
Then all of a sudden the fly remembered what
the bee had said. Just suppose this were a fly trap! But
no, this could not be, for Jack was a
preacher. Weak and weary and quite exhausted from trying
to escape, finally the tiny adventurer
called out in a frightened, weak little fly voice: "Oh,
kind bee, if you are near please come to my
rescue." Then too tired to try again the fly dropped on
the floor of the pulpit at Jack's feet
completely exhausted.
A lusty buzz, buzz, buzz, made the
adventurer stir. The bee had lighted on the same
flower.
"Kind bee, please help me," said the
fly.
"Where are you?" buzzed the bee,
looking down into the flower but not venturing in.
"Way down here," said the fly.
"Quick!" said the bee; "look for the
opening in the flap." So the fly made one more
try for escape and, yes—it found the opening in the
flap in front where the leaf folds together. It
didn't feel very venturesome now, just glad to be alive.
"Thank you, kind bee," humbly said the
fly. "You saved my life. I was a foolish fly."
"Yes," buzzed the bee, "but we are all
foolish sometimes. There is always a way out
though if we can only find it."
Then the bee and the fly flew away
together and became even better friends.
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