Very much out of the beaten track—in fact, only to be approached by an old road that had long fallen into disuse—stood a neglected cabin, a poor weather-beaten thing with sunken roof and decaying timbers.  
Its door-yard had already begun to grow the young pine trees which come up in great plumes¹ of long, green needles; and the little garden plot, which used to boast its vegetables, had become a mass of brambles and nettles².
 
"How sad this all is," the poor little cabin used to sigh. "Although I suppose it is better to be harboring rabbits and squirrels, and to have my beams plastered up with nests, than to have no living thing enjoy my shelter. Still, I wish spring when it comes would bring people to unlock my door and children to fill these poor little rooms with their laughter."
 
For the cabin could remember many children that had lived there, and sometimes it seemed to him that he heard them again, playing in the nearby woods, or running and calling down the road.
 
Sometimes he did hear such voices, for people often passed the cabin on the way to a distant plantation³, and children were as likely to be among them as not.
 
But the squirrels and the rabbits had it pretty much their own way with the deserted⁴ cabin, running in and out beneath the underpinning⁵; and the only noise around the place was that of Mrs. Yellowhammer when she came pounding at the roof for what the decayed old shingles⁶ might conceal⁷.
 
"I declare, you poor old house!" the energetic bird would say. "It's terrible how the worms are eating at your timbers and shingles." Whereat she would fall to and nearly pound the life out of the poor old cabin, in her determination to get all there was.
 
But Mrs. Yellowhammer and the rabbits that danced in the moonlight were not the only visitors, for often in the summer time came the humming-birds to visit the trumpet⁸-vine which covered nearly all of one end of the structure.
 
"I am the saving grace, the chief beauty of this establishment," the Lady Trumpet would say. "And I know it."
 
"Of course you are," Mrs. Yellowhammer would reply. "And it was a great mistake that you were ever planted here. A lady of your elegance⁹, among such weeds and common things, and at the very edge of nowhere!"
 
"Oh, I don't mind it much, although we have little company now. But who's this coming this very minute?"
 
Sure enough, a man was passing. And he came through the old door-yard straight up to the cabin steps and stood there a minute, and then was gone. But not before he had thrown something over his shoulder which lighted with a dry rattle¹⁰, like that of corn, in at the base of the old chimney.
 
"What a queer thing to do!" thought Lady Trumpet-Vine, thereby¹¹ speaking her own mind and that of the cabin as well.
 
"Not at all," suddenly spoke¹² up Mr. Rabbit. "That man is throwing seed over his left shoulder for his luck. I've seen it done before. And I'm glad he doesn't want my left hind¹³ foot, or whatever it is that such people like to carry in their pockets for good luck."
 
Immediately Mrs. Yellowhammer, who had been screaming to her friend, Red-necked Woodpecker, to come and enjoy this mystery, flew down to inspect the seeds which lay on the soil at the foot of the chimney. And Mr. Rabbit scampered¹⁴ to get to the spot also.
 
They looked long and hard at the little brown things; then Mr. Rabbit tried biting one of them.
 
"Ugh!" he exclaimed. "Bitter as poison!"
 
"I never taste things I am in doubt about," Mrs. Yellowhammer declared; "but I'm not a seed-eater anyway. What does Mr. Bob-White think they are?"
 
For a dapper little partridge was on the scene now, turning his head this way and that as he squinted¹⁵ at the mysterious seeds.
 
"Gourds¹⁶!" he finally pronounced them. "Gourd¹⁷ seed. No good for eating. Even a sparrow wouldn't touch them."
 
Then the birds flew off and Mr. Rabbit skipped rope with himself all around the yard, for he wanted to restore his spirits; this curious incident having for a second clouded his buoyant nature.
 
This happened in the very early spring, before even a leaf was showing on Lady Trumpet-Vine, and before even a purple wood violet had shown herself in the borders of the deserted garden. Rains came; long ones that drenched¹⁸ the earth and gullied the roads. The eaves of the cabin dripped and dripped night and day, and it was not long before great puddles¹⁹ lay by the sunken door-step, and were soaking down into the roots of everything.
 
"What a pity there's nothing but weeds and those low-down gourd seeds to be benefited by all this!" sighed the Lady Trumpet. "I shall probably flower generously this year. But what's the use?"
 
Then she would grow very sad as the rain increased and out of the dark skies came the heavy south winds.
 
But when the sky cleared, the gourd seeds had sunk out of sight. That was good luck for them. Deeper down they went and at last their first little roots were feeling the rich soil that no plant had enjoyed in many a year. Then two bright green leaves, laden²⁰ with halves of the old seed coverings, came up.
 
The glistening²¹ earth was trying to dry itself in the sunshine, and the jolly Woodpecker was looking out of his window in the trunk of the old cherry-tree.
 
"Well, I'm a crow!" he exclaimed, "or there are those gourd seeds up and out of bed so soon!"
 
He was so delighted with this that he told his wife; and soon all the other people around the poor neglected place were flying and running to take a look.
 
The little fellows, very sturdy and determined²², were holding their leaves out exactly as if they were spreading their palms upward to catch the sunlight in their hands.
 
Time went on and the seeds became vines. The old chimney, built of sticks and mud, and very unsightly, was revived to new feelings.
 ............