in the last story little jack rabbit, of old bramble patch, u. s. a., was talking to busy beaver, who was making a dam across the bubbling brook, you remember, to keep the water from freezing up his front door in the cold winter time.

“every one is getting ready for the cold weather. it won’t be long before my dam is finished and then i’ll set to work and make my house of mud and sticks,” and busy beaver jumped into the water with a flap of his broad tail and disappeared. so the little rabbit hopped along, and by and by he came to the cave where the big brown bear made his home.

“helloa!” said little jack rabbit, as the big brown bear looked out of his front door. “winter time will soon be here.”

“oh, that doesn’t worry me,” said the big brown bear.

“but what will you eat?” asked the little rabbit.

“when you’re asleep you don’t feel hungry. on a warm sunny day i may come out for a little while and find something to eat. i don’t worry.”

worry never makes you fat,

instead, it makes you lean.

never worry for a minute,—

worry has the devil in it,—

keep your mind serene.

and if you don’t know what “serene” means, take your father’s dictionary and[91] look up, for the more words you know the wiser you’ll grow.

“well, i don’t have to worry about the cold weather,” laughed the little rabbit. “mother nature will give me a new white fur overcoat, and the old bramble patch will keep the wind away, and the cabbage leaves which mother and i have stored away will last all winter.” and then away he went to see more of his friends in the shady forest.

well, by and by, after a while, he heard the honk of an automobile horn. “i wonder whether that’s uncle john,” and little jack rabbit stopped and looked all around, and pretty soon, not very long, mr. john hare drove by in his bunnymobile. he looked very fine in his polkadot handkerchief and gold watch and chain and a great big immense diamond horseshoe pin in his pink cravat. oh, my, yes! uncle john was quite a dandy. he was the best dressed hare in harebridge, and why shouldn’t he be when you consider he was president of the bank and the harum scarum club!

“helloa, there, little nephew,” he shouted.

“hop in and take a ride with me,

we’ll take a spin for a mile or three,

and maybe we’ll come where the lollypops grow,

pink and yellow, all in a row.”