initial commit of ebook 2486HEADmain

1 files changed, 2665 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/2486-0.txt b/2486-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3ba864c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/2486-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2665 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Queer Little Folks, by Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions 
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at 
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: Queer Little Folks
+
+
+Author: Harriet Beecher Stowe
+
+
+
+Release Date: March 30, 2015  [eBook #2486]
+[This file was first posted on March 4, 2000]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEER LITTLE FOLKS***
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1897 T. Nelson and Sons edition by David Price,
+email ccx074@pglaf.org.  Proofed by Rab Hughes, Carrie A. Fellman and
+Susan A. Wheeler.
+
+                          [Picture: Book cover]
+
+
+
+
+
+                                  QUEER
+                               LITTLE FOLKS
+
+
+                                   _By_
+                         _HARRIET BEECHER STOWE_
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                            WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                 London:
+                   T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW.
+                         EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.
+                                   1897
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+Contents.
+
+Hen that Hatched Ducks                         11
+The Nutcrackers of Nutcracker Lodge            29
+The History of Tip-Top                         43
+Miss Katy-Did and Miss Cricket                 61
+Mother Magpie’s Mischief                       70
+The Squirrels that live in a House             80
+Hum, the Son of Buz                            93
+Our Country Neighbours                        106
+The Diverting History of Little Whiskey       117
+
+
+
+
+List of Illustrations.
+
+The Brood Hatched                   19
+Feeding the Fame Robin              59
+Erecting the Hen-House              15
+The Hen that Hatched Ducks          25
+Enemies in Waiting                  39
+The Nest in the Apple-Tree          47
+Tip-Top in bad Company              57
+Venturous Squirrels                 89
+
+
+
+
+_HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS_.
+A STORY.
+
+
+ONCE there was a nice young hen that we will call Mrs. Feathertop.  She
+was a hen of most excellent family, being a direct descendant of the
+Bolton Grays, and as pretty a young fowl as you could wish to see of a
+summer’s day.  She was, moreover, as fortunately situated in life as it
+was possible for a hen to be.  She was bought by young Master Fred Little
+John, with four or five family connections of hers, and a lively young
+cock, who was held to be as brisk a scratcher and as capable a head of a
+family as any half-dozen sensible hens could desire.
+
+I can’t say that at first Mrs. Feathertop was a very sensible hen.  She
+was very pretty and lively, to be sure, and a great favourite with Master
+Bolton Gray Cock, on account of her bright eyes, her finely shaded
+feathers, and certain saucy dashing ways that she had which seemed
+greatly to take his fancy.  But old Mrs. Scratchard, living in the
+neighbouring yard, assured all the neighbourhood that Gray Cock was a
+fool for thinking so much of that flighty young thing; _that_ she had not
+the smallest notion how to get on in life, and thought of nothing in the
+world but her own pretty feathers.  “Wait till she comes to have
+chickens,” said Mrs. Scratchard; “then you will see.  I have brought up
+ten broods myself—as likely and respectable chickens as ever were a
+blessing to society—and I think I ought to know a good hatcher and
+brooder when I see her; and I know _that_ fine piece of trumpery, with
+her white feathers tipped with gray, never will come down to family life.
+_She_ scratch for chickens!  Bless me, she never did anything in all her
+days but run round and eat the worms which somebody else scratched up for
+her.”
+
+When Master Bolton Gray heard this he crowed very loudly, like a cock of
+spirit, and declared that old Mrs. Scratchard was envious, because she
+had lost all her own tail-feathers, and looked more like a worn-out old
+feather-duster than a respectable hen, and that therefore she was filled
+with sheer envy of anybody that was young and pretty.  So young Mrs.
+Feathertop cackled gay defiance at her busy rubbishy neighbour, as she
+sunned herself under the bushes on fine June afternoons.
+
+Now Master Fred Little John had been allowed to have these hens by his
+mamma on the condition that he would build their house himself, and take
+all the care of it; and to do Master Fred justice, he executed the job in
+a small way quite creditably.  He chose a sunny sloping bank covered with
+a thick growth of bushes, and erected there a nice little hen-house with
+two glass windows, a little door, and a good pole for his family to roost
+on.  He made, moreover, a row of nice little boxes with hay in them for
+nests, and he bought three or four little smooth white china eggs to put
+in them, so that, when his hens _did_ lay, he might carry off their eggs
+without their being missed.  This hen-house stood in a little grove that
+sloped down to a wide river, just where there was a little cove which
+reached almost to the hen-house.
+
+                    [Picture: Erecting the Hen-House]
+
+This situation inspired one of Master Fred’s boy advisers with a new
+scheme in relation to his poultry enterprise.  “Hallo!  I say, Fred,”
+said Tom Seymour, “you ought to raise ducks; you’ve got a capital place
+for ducks there.”
+
+“Yes; but I’ve bought _hens_, you see,” said Freddy; “so it’s no use
+trying.”
+
+“No use!  Of course there is.  Just as if your hens couldn’t hatch ducks’
+eggs.  Now you just wait till one of your hens wants to sit, and you put
+ducks’ eggs under her, and you’ll have a family of ducks in a twinkling.
+You can buy ducks’ eggs a plenty of old Sam under the hill.  He always
+has hens hatch his ducks.”
+
+So Freddy thought it would be a good experiment, and informed his mother
+the next morning that he intended to furnish the ducks for the next
+Christmas dinner and when she wondered how he was to come by them, he
+said mysteriously, “Oh, I will show you how,” but did not further explain
+himself.  The next day he went with Tom Seymour and made a trade with old
+Sam, and gave him a middle-aged jack-knife for eight of his ducks’ eggs.
+Sam, by-the-by, was a woolly-headed old negro man, who lived by the pond
+hard by, and who had long cast envying eyes on Fred’s jack-knife, because
+it was of extra fine steel, having been a Christmas present the year
+before.  But Fred knew very well there were any number more of
+jack-knives where that came from, and that, in order to get a new one, he
+must dispose of the old; so he made the purchase and came home rejoicing.
+
+Now about this time Mrs. Feathertop, having laid her eggs daily with
+great credit to herself, notwithstanding Mrs. Scratchard’s predictions,
+began to find herself suddenly attacked with nervous symptoms.  She lost
+her gay spirits, grew dumpish and morose, stuck up her feathers in a
+bristling way, and pecked at her neighbours if they did so much as look
+at her.  Master Gray Cock was greatly concerned, and went to old Dr.
+Peppercorn, who looked solemn, and recommended an infusion of
+angle-worms, and said he would look in on the patient twice a day till
+she was better.
+
+“Gracious me, Gray Cock!” said old Goody Kertarkut, who had been lolling
+at the corner as he passed, “ain’t you a fool?—cocks always are fools.
+Don’t you know what’s the matter with your wife?  She wants to sit,
+that’s all; and you just let her sit.  A fiddlestick for Dr. Peppercorn!
+Why, any good old hen that has brought up a family knows more than a
+doctor about such things.  You just go home and tell her to sit if she
+wants to, and behave herself.”
+
+When Gray Cock came home, he found that Master Freddy had been before
+him, and had established Mrs. Feathertop upon eight nice eggs, where she
+was sitting in gloomy grandeur.  He tried to make a little affable
+conversation with her, and to relate his interview with the doctor and
+Goody Kertarkut; but she was morose and sullen, and only pecked at him
+now and then in a very sharp, unpleasant way.  So after a few more
+efforts to make himself agreeable he left her, and went out promenading
+with the captivating Mrs. Red Comb, a charming young Spanish widow, who
+had just been imported into the neighbouring yard.
+
+“Bless my soul,” said he, “you’ve no idea how cross my wife is.”
+
+“O you horrid creature!” said Mrs. Red Comb.  “How little you feel for
+the weaknesses of us poor hens!”
+
+“On my word, ma’am,” said Gray Cock, “you do me injustice.  But when a
+hen gives way to temper, ma’am, and no longer meets her husband with a
+smile—when she even pecks at him whom she is bound to honour and obey—”
+
+“Horrid monster! talking of obedience!  I should say, sir, you came
+straight from Turkey.”  And Mrs. Red Comb tossed her head with a most
+bewitching air, and pretended to run away; and old Mrs. Scratchard looked
+out of her coop and called to Goody Kertarkut,—
+
+“Look how Mr. Gray Cock is flirting with that widow.  I always knew she
+was a baggage.”
+
+“And his poor wife left at home alone,” said Goody Kertarkut.  “It’s the
+way with ’em all!”
+
+“Yes, yes,” said Dame Scratchard, “she’ll know what real life is now, and
+she won’t go about holding her head so high, and looking down on her
+practical neighbours that have raised families.”
+
+“Poor thing! what’ll she do with a family?” said Goody Kertarkut.
+
+“Well, what business have such young flirts to get married?” said Dame
+Scratchard.  “I don’t expect she’ll raise a single chick; and there’s
+Gray Cock flirting about, fine as ever.  Folks didn’t do so when I was
+young.  I’m sure my husband knew what treatment a sitting hen ought to
+have,—poor old Long Spur! he never minded a peck or so and then.  I must
+say these modern fowls ain’t what fowls used to be.”
+
+Meanwhile the sun rose and set, and Master Fred was almost the only
+friend and associate of poor little Mrs. Feathertop, whom he fed daily
+with meal and water, and only interrupted her sad reflections by pulling
+her up occasionally to see how the eggs were coming on.
+
+At last “Peep, peep, peep,” began to be heard in the nest, and one little
+downy head after another poked forth from under the feathers, surveying
+the world with round, bright, winking eyes; and gradually the brood were
+hatched, and Mrs. Feathertop arose, a proud and happy mother, with all
+the bustling, scratching, care-taking instincts of family-life warm
+within her breast.  She clucked and scratched, and cuddled the little
+downy bits of things as handily and discreetly as a seven-year-old hen
+could have done, exciting thereby the wonder of the community.
+
+                       [Picture: The Brood Hatched]
+
+Master Gray Cock came home in high spirits, and complimented her; told
+her she was looking charmingly once more, and said, “Very well, very
+nice,” as he surveyed the young brood.  So that Mrs. Feathertop began to
+feel the world going well with her, when suddenly in came Dame Scratchard
+and Goody Kertarkut to make a morning call.
+
+“Let’s see the chicks,” said Dame Scratchard.
+
+“Goodness me,” said Goody Kertarkut, “what a likeness to their dear
+papa!”
+
+“Well, but bless me, what’s the matter with their bills?” said Dame
+Scratchard.  “Why, my dear, these chicks are deformed!  I’m sorry for
+you, my dear; but it’s all the result of your inexperience.  You ought to
+have eaten pebble-stones with your meal when you were sitting.  Don’t you
+see, Dame Kertarkut, what bills they have?  That’ll increase, and they’ll
+be frightful!”
+
+“What shall I do?” said Mrs. Feathertop, now greatly alarmed.
+
+“Nothing, as I know of,” said Dame Scratchard, “since you didn’t come to
+me before you sat.  I could have told you all about it.  Maybe it won’t
+kill ’em, but they’ll always be deformed.”
+
+And so the gossips departed, leaving a sting under the pin-feathers of
+the poor little hen mamma, who began to see that her darlings had curious
+little spoon-bills, different from her own, and to worry and fret about
+it.
+
+“My dear,” she said to her spouse, “do get Dr. Peppercorn to come in and
+look at their bills, and see if anything can be done.”
+
+Dr. Peppercorn came in, and put on a monstrous pair of spectacles, and
+said, “Hum! ha! extraordinary case; very singular.”
+
+“Did you ever see anything like it, doctor?” said both parents in a
+breath.
+
+“I’ve read of such cases.  It’s a calcareous enlargement of the vascular
+bony tissue, threatening ossification,” said the doctor.
+
+“Oh, dreadful!  Can it be possible?” shrieked both parents.  “Can
+anything be done?”
+
+“Well, I should recommend a daily lotion made of mosquitoes’ horns and
+bicarbonate of frogs’ toes, together with a powder, to be taken morning
+and night, of muriate of fleas.  One thing you must be careful about:
+they must never wet their feet, nor drink any water.”
+
+“Dear me, doctor, I don’t know what I _shall_ do, for they seem to have a
+particular fancy for getting into water.”
+
+“Yes, a morbid tendency often found in these cases of bony tumification
+of the vascular tissue of the mouth; but you must resist it, ma’am, as
+their life depends upon it.”  And with that Dr. Peppercorn glared
+gloomily on the young ducks, who were stealthily poking the objectionable
+little spoon-bills out from under their mother’s feathers.
+
+After this poor Mrs. Feathertop led a weary life of it; for the young fry
+were as healthy and enterprising a brood of young ducks as ever carried
+saucepans on the end of their noses, and they most utterly set themselves
+against the doctor’s prescriptions, murmured at the muriate of fleas and
+the bicarbonate of frogs’ toes, and took every opportunity to waddle
+their little ways down to the mud and water which was in their near
+vicinity.  So their bills grew larger and larger, as did the rest of
+their bodies, and family government grew weaker and weaker.
+
+“You’ll wear me out, children, you certainly will,” said poor Mrs.
+Feathertop.
+
+“You’ll go to destruction, do ye hear?” said Master Gray Cock.
+
+“Did you ever see such frights as poor Mrs. Feathertop has got?” said
+Dame Scratchard.  “I knew what would come of _her_ family—all deformed,
+and with a dreadful sort of madness which makes them love to shovel mud
+with those shocking spoon-bills of theirs.”
+
+“It’s a kind of idiocy,” said Goody Kertarkut.  “Poor things! they can’t
+be kept from the water, nor made to take powders, and so they get worse
+and worse.”
+
+“I understand it’s affecting their feet so that they can’t walk, and a
+dreadful sort of net is growing between their toes.  What a shocking
+visitation!”
+
+“She brought it on herself,” said Dame Scratchard.  “Why didn’t she come
+to me before she sat?  She was always an upstart, self-conceited thing;
+but I’m sure I pity her.”
+
+Meanwhile the young ducks throve apace.  Their necks grew glossy, like
+changeable green and gold satin, and though they would not take the
+doctor’s medicine, and would waddle in the mud and water—for which they
+always felt themselves to be very naughty ducks—yet they grew quite
+vigorous and hearty.  At last one day the whole little tribe waddled off
+down to the bank of the river.  It was a beautiful day, and the river was
+dancing and dimpling and winking as the little breezes shook the trees
+that hung over it.
+
+“Well,” said the biggest of the little ducks, “in spite of Dr.
+Peppercorn, I can’t help longing for the water.  I don’t believe it is
+going to hurt me; at any rate, here goes,” and in he plumped, and in went
+every duck after him, and they threw out their great brown feet as
+cleverly as if they had taken swimming lessons all their lives, and
+sailed off on the river, away, away among the ferns, under the pink
+azaleas, through reeds and rushes, and arrow-heads and pickerel-weed, the
+happiest ducks that ever were born; and soon they were quite out of
+sight.
+
+“Well, Mrs. Feathertop, this is a dispensation!” said Mrs. Scratchard.
+“Your children are all drowned at last, just as I knew they’d be.  The
+old music-teacher, Master Bullfrog, that lives down in Water-Dock Lane,
+saw ’em all plump madly into the water together this morning.  That’s
+what comes of not knowing how to bring up a family!”
+
+Mrs. Feathertop gave only one shriek and fainted dead away, and was
+carried home on a cabbage-leaf; and Mr. Gray Cock was sent for, where he
+was waiting on Mrs. Red Comb through the squash-vines.
+
+“It’s a serious time in your family, sir,” said Goody Kertarkut, “and you
+ought to be at home supporting your wife.  Send for Dr. Peppercorn
+without delay.”
+
+Now as the case was a very dreadful one, Dr. Peppercorn called a council
+from the barn-yard of the squire, two miles off, and a brisk young Dr.
+Partlett appeared, in a fine suit of brown and gold, with tail-feathers
+like meteors.  A fine young fellow he was, lately from Paris, with all
+the modern scientific improvements fresh in his head.
+
+When he had listened to the whole story, he clapped his spur into the
+ground, and leaning back laughed so loudly that all the cocks in the
+neighbourhood crowed.
+
+Mrs. Feathertop rose up out of her swoon, and Mr. Gray Cock was greatly
+enraged.
+
+“What do you mean, sir, by such behaviour in the house of mourning?”
+
+“My dear sir, pardon me; but there is no occasion for mourning.  My dear
+madam, let me congratulate you.  There is no harm done.  The simple
+matter is, dear madam, you have been under a hallucination all along.
+The neighbourhood and my learned friend the doctor have all made a
+mistake in thinking that these children of yours were hens at all.  They
+are ducks, ma’am, evidently ducks, and very finely-formed ducks I
+daresay.”
+
+                  [Picture: The Hen that Hatched Ducks]
+
+At this moment a quack was heard, and at a distance the whole tribe were
+seen coming waddling home, their feathers gleaming in green and gold, and
+they themselves in high good spirits.
+
+“Such a splendid day as we have had!” they all cried in a breath.  “And
+we know now how to get our own living; we can take care of ourselves in
+future, so you need have no further trouble with us.”
+
+“Madam,” said the doctor, making a bow with an air which displayed his
+tail-feathers to advantage, “let me congratulate you on the charming
+family you have raised.  A finer brood of young, healthy ducks I never
+saw.  Give me your claw, my dear friend,” he said, addressing the eldest
+son.  “In our barn-yard no family is more respected than that of the
+ducks.”
+
+And so Madam Feathertop came off glorious at last.  And when after this
+the ducks used to go swimming up and down the river like so many nabobs
+among the admiring hens, Dr. Peppercorn used to look after them and say,
+“Ah, I had the care of their infancy!” and Mr. Gray Cock and his wife
+used to say, “It was our system of education did that!”
+
+
+
+
+_THE NUTCRACKERS OF NUTCRACKER LODGE_.
+
+
+MR. and Mrs. Nutcracker were as respectable a pair of squirrels as ever
+wore gray brushes over their backs.  They were animals of a settled and
+serious turn of mind, not disposed to run after vanities and novelties,
+but filling their station in life with prudence and sobriety.  Nutcracker
+Lodge was a hole in a sturdy old chestnut overhanging a shady dell, and
+was held to be as respectably kept an establishment as there was in the
+whole forest.  Even Miss Jenny Wren, the greatest gossip of the
+neighbourhood, never found anything to criticise in its arrangements; and
+old Parson Too-whit, a venerable owl who inhabited a branch somewhat more
+exalted, as became his profession, was in the habit of saving himself
+much trouble in his parochial exhortations by telling his parishioners in
+short to “look at the Nutcrackers” if they wanted to see what it was to
+live a virtuous life.  Everything had gone on prosperously with them, and
+they had reared many successive families of young Nutcrackers, who went
+forth to assume their places in the forest of life, and to reflect credit
+on their bringing up,—so that naturally enough they began to have a very
+easy way of considering themselves models of wisdom.
+
+But at last it came along, in the course of events, that they had a son
+named Featherhead, who was destined to bring them a great deal of
+anxiety.  Nobody knows what the reason is, but the fact was, that Master
+Featherhead was as different from all the former children of this worthy
+couple as if he had been dropped out of the moon into their nest, instead
+of coming into it in the general way.  Young Featherhead was a squirrel
+of good parts and a lively disposition, but he was sulky and contrary and
+unreasonable, and always finding matter of complaint in everything his
+respectable papa and mamma did.  Instead of assisting in the cares of a
+family,—picking up nuts and learning other lessons proper to a young
+squirrel,—he seemed to settle himself from his earliest years into a sort
+of lofty contempt for the Nutcrackers, for Nutcracker Lodge, and for all
+the good old ways and institutions of the domestic hole, which he
+declared to be stupid and unreasonable, and entirely behind the times.
+To be sure, he was always on hand at meal-times, and played a very lively
+tooth on the nuts which his mother had collected, always selecting the
+very best for himself; but he seasoned his nibbling with so much
+grumbling and discontent, and so many severe remarks, as to give the
+impression that he considered himself a peculiarly ill-used squirrel in
+having to “eat their old grub,” as he very unceremoniously called it.
+
+Papa Nutcracker, on these occasions, was often fiercely indignant, and
+poor little Mamma Nutcracker would shed tears, and beg her darling to be
+a little more reasonable; but the young gentleman seemed always to
+consider himself as the injured party.
+
+Now nobody could tell why or wherefore Master Featherhead looked upon
+himself as injured or aggrieved, since he was living in a good hole, with
+plenty to eat, and without the least care or labour of his own; but he
+seemed rather to value himself upon being gloomy and dissatisfied.  While
+his parents and brothers and sisters were cheerfully racing up and down
+the branches, busy in their domestic toils, and laying up stores for the
+winter, Featherhead sat gloomily apart, declaring himself weary of
+existence, and feeling himself at liberty to quarrel with everybody and
+everything about him.  Nobody understood him, he said;—he was a squirrel
+of a peculiar nature, and needed peculiar treatment, and nobody treated
+him in a way that did not grate on the finer nerves of his feelings.  He
+had higher notions of existence than could be bounded by that old rotten
+hole in a hollow tree; he had thoughts that soared far above the
+miserable, petty details of every-day life, and he could not and would
+not bring down these soaring aspirations to the contemptible toil of
+laying up a few chestnuts or hickory-nuts for winter.
+
+“Depend upon it, my dear,” said Mrs. Nutcracker solemnly, “that fellow
+must be a genius.”
+
+“Fiddlestick on his genius!” said old Mr. Nutcracker; “what does he
+_do_?”
+
+“Oh, nothing, of course; that’s one of the first marks of genius.
+Geniuses, you know, never can come down to common life.”
+
+“He eats enough for any two,” remarked old Nutcracker, “and he never
+helps to gather nuts.”
+
+“My dear, ask Parson Too-whit.  He has conversed with him, and quite
+agrees with me that he says very uncommon things for a squirrel of his
+age; he has such fine feelings,—so much above those of the common crowd.”
+
+“Fine feelings be hanged!” said old Nutcracker.  “When a fellow eats all
+the nuts that his mother gives him, and then grumbles at her, I don’t
+believe much in his fine feelings.  Why don’t he set himself about
+something?  I’m going to tell my fine young gentleman that, if he doesn’t
+behave himself, I’ll tumble him out of the nest, neck and crop, and see
+if hunger won’t do something towards bringing down his fine airs.”
+
+But then Mrs. Nutcracker fell on her husband’s neck with both paws, and
+wept, and besought him so piteously to have patience with her darling,
+that old Nutcracker, who was himself a soft-hearted old squirrel, was
+prevailed upon to put up with the airs and graces of his young scapegrace
+a little longer; and secretly in his silly old heart he revolved the
+question whether possibly it might not be that a great genius was
+actually to come of his household.
+
+The Nutcrackers belonged to the old-established race of the Grays, but
+they were sociable, friendly people, and kept on the best of terms with
+all branches of the Nutcracker family.  The Chipmunks of Chipmunk Hollow
+were a very lively, cheerful, sociable race, and on the very best of
+terms with the Nutcracker Grays.  Young Tip Chipmunk, the oldest son, was
+in all respects a perfect contrast to Master Featherhead.  He was always
+lively and cheerful, and so very alert in providing for the family, that
+old Mr. and Mrs. Chipmunk had very little care, but could sit sociably at
+the door of their hole and chat with neighbours, quite sure that Tip
+would bring everything out right for them, and have plenty laid up for
+winter.
+
+Now Featherhead took it upon him, for some reason or other, to look down
+upon Tip Chipmunk, and on every occasion to disparage him in the social
+circle, as a very common kind of squirrel, with whom it would be best not
+to associate too freely.
+
+“My dear,” said Mrs. Nutcracker one day, when he was expressing these
+ideas, “it seems to me that you are too hard on poor Tip; he is a most
+excellent son and brother, and I wish you would be civil to him.”
+
+“Oh, I don’t doubt that Tip is _good_ enough,” said Featherhead
+carelessly; “but then he is so very common! he hasn’t an idea in his
+skull above his nuts and his hole.  He is good-natured enough, to be
+sure,—these very ordinary people often are good-natured,—but he wants
+manner; he has really no manner at all; and as to the deeper feelings,
+Tip hasn’t the remotest idea of them.  I mean always to be civil to Tip
+when he comes in my way, but I think the less we see of that sort of
+people the better; and I hope, mother, you won’t invite the Chipmunks at
+Christmas,—these family dinners are such a bore!”
+
+“But, my dear, your father thinks a great deal of the Chipmunks; and it
+is an old family custom to have all the relatives here at Christmas.”
+
+“And an awful bore it is!  Why must people of refinement and elevation be
+forever tied down because of some distant relationship?  Now there are
+our cousins the High-Flyers,—if we could get them, there would be some
+sense in it.  Young Whisk rather promised me for Christmas; but it’s
+seldom now you can get a flying squirrel to show himself in our parts,
+and if we are intimate with the Chipmunks it isn’t to be expected.”
+
+“Confound him for a puppy!” said old Nutcracker, when his wife repeated
+these sayings to him.  “Featherhead is a fool.  Common, forsooth!  I wish
+good, industrious, painstaking sons like Tip Chipmunk _were_ common.  For
+my part, I find these uncommon people the most tiresome.  They are not
+content with letting us carry the whole load, but they sit on it, and
+scold at us while we carry them.”
+
+But old Mr. Nutcracker, like many other good old gentlemen squirrels,
+found that Christmas dinners and other things were apt to go as his wife
+said, and his wife was apt to go as young Featherhead said; and so, when
+Christmas came, the Chipmunks were not invited, for the first time in
+many years.  The Chipmunks, however, took all pleasantly, and accepted
+poor old Mrs. Nutcracker’s awkward apologies with the best possible
+grace; and young Tip looked in on Christmas morning with the compliments
+of the season and a few beech-nuts, which he had secured as a great
+dainty.  The fact was, that Tip’s little striped fur coat was so filled
+up and overflowing with cheerful good-will to all, that he never could be
+made to understand that any of his relations could want to cut him; and
+therefore Featherhead looked down on him with contempt, and said he had
+no tact, and couldn’t see when he was not wanted.
+
+It was wonderful to see how, by means of persisting in remarks like
+these, young Featherhead at last got all his family to look up to him as
+something uncommon.  Though he added nothing to the family, and required
+more to be done for him than all the others put together,—though he
+showed not the smallest real perseverance or ability in anything
+useful,—yet somehow all his brothers and sisters, and his poor foolish
+old mother, got into a way of regarding him as something wonderful, and
+delighting in his sharp sayings as if they had been the wisest things in
+the world.
+
+But at last old papa declared that it was time for Featherhead to settle
+himself to some business in life, roundly declaring that he could not
+always have him as a hanger-on in the paternal hole.
+
+“What are you going to do, my boy?” said Tip Chipmunk to him one day.
+“We are driving now a thriving trade in hickory-nuts, and if you would
+like to join us—”
+
+“Thank you,” said Featherhead; “but I confess I have no fancy for
+anything so slow as the hickory trade; I never was made to grub and delve
+in that way.”
+
+The fact was that Featherhead had lately been forming alliances such as
+no reputable squirrel should even think of.  He had more than once been
+seen going out evenings with the Rats of Rat Hollow,—a race whose
+reputation for honesty was more than doubtful.  The fact was, further,
+that old Longtooth Rat, an old sharper and money-lender, had long had his
+eye on Featherhead as just about silly enough for their
+purposes,—engaging him in what he called a speculation, but which was
+neither more nor less than downright stealing.
+
+Near by the chestnut-tree where Nutcracker Lodge was situated was a large
+barn filled with corn and grain, besides many bushels of hazel-nuts,
+chestnuts, and walnuts.  Now old Longtooth proposed to young Featherhead
+that he should nibble a passage into this loft, and there establish
+himself in the commission business, passing the nuts and corn to him as
+he wanted them.  Old Longtooth knew what he was about in the proposal,
+for he had heard talk of a brisk Scotch terrier that was about to be
+bought to keep the rats from the grain; but you may be sure he kept his
+knowledge to himself, so that Featherhead was none the wiser for it.
+
+“The nonsense of fellows like Tip Chipmunk!” said Featherhead to his
+admiring brothers and sisters—“the perfectly stupid nonsense!  There he
+goes, delving and poking, picking up a nut here and a grain there, when
+_I_ step into property at once.”
+
+“But I hope, my son, you are careful to be honest in your dealings,” said
+old Nutcracker, who was a very moral squirrel.
+
+With that, young Featherhead threw his tail saucily over one shoulder,
+winked knowingly at his brothers, and said, “Certainly, sir!  If honesty
+consists in getting what you can while it is going, I mean to be honest.”
+
+Very soon Featherhead appeared to his admiring companions in the height
+of prosperity.  He had a splendid hole in the midst of a heap of
+chestnuts, and he literally seemed to be rolling in wealth; he never came
+home without showering lavish gifts on his mother and sisters; he wore
+his tail over his back with a buckish air, and patronized Tip Chipmunk
+with a gracious nod whenever he met him, and thought that the world was
+going well with him.
+
+But one luckless day, as Featherhead was lolling in his hole, up came two
+boys with the friskiest, wiriest Scotch terrier you ever saw.  His eyes
+blazed like torches, and poor Featherhead’s heart died within him as he
+heard the boys say, “Now we’ll see if we can’t catch the rascal that eats
+our grain.”
+
+                      [Picture: Enemies in waiting]
+
+Featherhead tried to slink out at the hole he had gnawed to come in by,
+but found it stopped.
+
+“Oh, you are there, are you, mister?” said the boy.  “Well, you don’t get
+out; and now for a chase!”
+
+And, sure enough, poor Featherhead ran distracted with terror up and
+down, through the bundles of hay, between barrels, and over casks, but
+with the barking terrier ever at his heels, and the boys running,
+shouting, and cheering his pursuer on.  He was glad at last to escape
+through a crack, though he left half of his fine brush behind him; for
+Master Wasp the terrier made a snap at it just as he was going, and
+cleaned all the hair off of it, so that it was bare as a rat’s tail.
+
+Poor Featherhead limped off, bruised and beaten and bedraggled, with the
+boys and dog still after him; and they would have caught him, after all,
+if Tip Chipmunk’s hole had not stood hospitably open to receive him.  Tip
+took him in, like a good-natured fellow as he was, and took the best of
+care of him; but the glory of Featherhead’s tail had departed for ever.
+He had sprained his left paw, and got a chronic rheumatism, and the
+fright and fatigue which he had gone through had broken up his
+constitution, so that he never again could be what he had been; but, Tip
+gave him a situation as under-clerk in his establishment, and from that
+time he was a sadder and a wiser squirrel than he ever had been before.
+
+
+
+
+_THE HISTORY OF TIP-TOP_.
+
+
+UNDER the window of a certain pretty little cottage there grew a great
+old apple-tree, which in the spring had thousands and thousands of lovely
+pink blossoms on it, and in the autumn had about half as many bright red
+apples as it had blossoms in the spring.
+
+The nursery of this cottage was a little bower of a room, papered with
+mossy-green paper, and curtained with white muslin; and here five little
+children used to come, in their white nightgowns, to be dressed and have
+their hair brushed and curled every morning.
+
+First, there were Alice and Mary, bright-eyed, laughing little girls, of
+seven and eight years; and then came stout little Jamie, and Charlie; and
+finally little Puss, whose real name was Ellen, but who was called Puss,
+and Pussy, and Birdie, and Toddlie, and any other pet name that came to
+mind.
+
+Now it used to happen, every morning, that the five little heads would be
+peeping out of the window, together, into the flowery boughs of the
+apple-tree; and the reason was this.  A pair of robins had built a very
+pretty, smooth-lined nest in a fork of the limb that came directly under
+the window, and the building of this nest had been superintended, day by
+day, by the five pairs of bright eyes of these five children.  The robins
+at first had been rather shy of this inspection; but as they got better
+acquainted, they seemed to think no more of the little curly heads in the
+window than of the pink blossoms about them, or the daisies and
+buttercups at the foot of the tree.
+
+All the little hands were forward to help; some threw out flossy bits of
+cotton,—for which, we grieve to say, Charlie had cut a hole in the crib
+quilt,—and some threw out bits of thread and yarn, and Allie ravelled out
+a considerable piece from one of her garters, which she threw out as a
+contribution; and they exulted in seeing the skill with which the little
+builders wove everything in.  “Little birds, little birds,” they would
+say, “you shall be kept warm, for we have given you cotton out of our
+crib quilt, and yarn out of our stockings.”  Nay, so far did this
+generosity proceed, that Charlie cut a flossy, golden curl from Toddlie’s
+head and threw it out; and when the birds caught it up the whole flock
+laughed to see Toddlie’s golden hair figuring in a bird’s-nest.
+
+When the little thing was finished, it was so neat, and trim, and
+workman-like, that the children all exulted over it, and called it “our
+nest,” and the two robins they called “our birds.”  But wonderful was the
+joy when the little eyes, opening one morning, saw in the nest a
+beautiful pale-green egg; and the joy grew from day to day, for every day
+there came another egg, and so on till there were five little eggs; and
+then the oldest girl, Alice, said, “There are five eggs: that makes one
+for each of us, and each of us will have a little bird by-and-by;”—at
+which all the children laughed and jumped for glee.
+
+When the five little eggs were all laid, the mother-bird began to sit on
+them; and at any time of day or night, when a little head peeped out of
+the nursery window, might be seen a round, bright, patient pair of bird’s
+eyes contentedly waiting for the young birds to come.  It seemed a long
+time for the children to wait; but every day they put some bread and cake
+from their luncheon on the window-sill, so that the birds might have
+something to eat; but still there she was, patiently sitting!
+
+                  [Picture: The Nest in the Apple-Tree]
+
+“How long, long, long she waits!” said Jamie impatiently.  “I don’t
+believe she’s ever going to hatch.”
+
+“Oh, yes she is!” said grave little Alice.  “Jamie, you don’t understand
+about these things; it takes a long, long time to hatch eggs.  Old Sam
+says his hens sit three weeks;—only think, almost a month!”
+
+Three weeks looked a long time to the five bright pairs of little
+watching eyes; but Jamie said the eggs were so much smaller than hens’
+eggs that it wouldn’t take so long to hatch them, he knew.  Jamie always
+thought he knew all about everything, and was so sure of it that he
+rather took the lead among the children.  But one morning, when they
+pushed their five heads out of the window, the round, patient little
+bird-eyes were gone, and there seemed to be nothing in the nest but a
+bunch of something hairy.
+
+Upon this they all cried out, “O mamma, _do_ come here! the bird is gone
+and left her nest?”  And when they cried out, they saw five wide little
+red mouths open in the nest, and saw that the hairy bunch of stuff was
+indeed the first of five little birds.
+
+“They are dreadful-looking things,” said Mary; “I didn’t know that little
+birds began by looking so badly.”
+
+“They seem to be all mouth,” said Jamie.
+
+“We must feed them,” said Charlie.—“Here, little birds, here’s some
+gingerbread for you,” he said; and he threw a bit of his gingerbread,
+which fortunately only hit the nest on the outside, and fell down among
+the buttercups, where two crickets made a meal of it, and agreed that it
+was as excellent gingerbread as if old Mother Cricket herself had made
+it.
+
+“Take care, Charlie,” said his mamma; “we do not know enough to feed
+young birds.  We must leave that to their papa and mamma, who probably
+started out bright and early in the morning to get breakfast for them.”
+
+Sure enough, while they were speaking, back came Mr. and Mrs. Robin,
+whirring through the green shadows of the apple tree; and thereupon all
+the five little red mouths flew open, and the birds put something into
+each.
+
+It was great amusement, after this, to watch the daily feeding of the
+little birds, and to observe how, when not feeding them, the mother sat
+brooding on the nest, warming them under her soft wings, while the
+father-bird sat on the topmost bough of the apple-tree and sang to them.
+In time they grew and grew, and, instead of a nest full of little red
+mouths, there was a nest full of little, fat, speckled robins, with
+round, bright, cunning eyes, just like their parents; and the children
+began to talk together about their birds.
+
+“I’m going to give my robin a name,” said Mary.  “I call him Brown-Eyes.”
+
+“And I call mine Tip-Top,” said Jamie, “because I know he’ll be a tip-top
+bird.”
+
+“And I call mine Singer,” said Alice.
+
+“I ’all mine Toddy,” said little Toddlie, who would not be behindhand in
+anything that was going on.
+
+“Hurrah for Toddlie!” said Charlie; “hers is the best of all.  For my
+part, I call mine Speckle.”
+
+So then the birds were all made separate characters by having each a
+separate name given it.
+
+Brown-Eyes, Tip-Top, Singer, Toddy, and Speckle made, as they grew
+bigger, a very crowded nestful of birds.
+
+Now the children had early been taught to say in a little hymn:—
+
+    “Birds in their little nests agree;
+       And ’tis a shameful sight
+    When children of one family
+       Fall out, and chide, and fight;”—
+
+and they thought anything really written and printed in a hymn must be
+true; therefore they were very much astonished to see, from day to day,
+that _their_ little birds in their nest did _not_ agree.
+
+Tip-Top was the biggest and strongest bird, and he was always shuffling
+and crowding the others, and clamouring for the most food; and when Mrs.
+Robin came in with a nice bit of anything, Tip-Top’s red mouth opened so
+wide, and he was so noisy, that one would think the nest was all his.
+His mother used to correct him for these gluttonous ways, and sometimes
+made him wait till all the rest were helped before she gave him a
+mouthful; but he generally revenged himself in her absence by crowding
+the others and making the nest generally uncomfortable.  Speckle,
+however, was a bird of spirit, and he used to peck at Tip-Top; so they
+would sometimes have a regular sparring-match across poor Brown-Eyes, who
+was a meek, tender little fellow, and would sit winking and blinking in
+fear while his big brothers quarrelled.  As to Toddy and Singer, they
+turned out to be sister birds, and showed quite a feminine talent for
+chattering; they used to scold their badly behaving brothers in a way
+that made the nest quite lively.
+
+On the whole Mr. and Mrs. Robin did not find their family circle the
+peaceable place the poet represents.
+
+“I say,” said Tip-Top one day to them, “this old nest is a dull, mean,
+crowded hole, and it’s quite time some of us were out of it.  Just give
+us lessons in flying, won’t you? and let us go.”
+
+“My dear boy,” said Mother Robin, “we shall teach you to fly as soon as
+your wings are strong enough.”
+
+“You are a very little bird,” said his father, “and ought to be good and
+obedient, and wait patiently till your wing-feathers grow; and then you
+can soar away to some purpose.”
+
+“Wait for my wing-feathers?  Humbug!” Tip-Top would say, as he sat
+balancing with his little short tail on the edge of the nest, and looking
+down through the grass and clover-heads below, and up into the blue
+clouds above.  “Father and mother are slow old birds; they keep a fellow
+back with their confounded notions.  If they don’t hurry up, I’ll take
+matters into my own claws, and be off some day before they know it.  Look
+at those swallows, skimming and diving through the blue air!  That’s the
+way I want to do.”
+
+“But, dear brother, the way to learn to do that is to be good and
+obedient while we are little, and wait till our parents think it best for
+us to begin.”
+
+“Shut up your preaching,” said Tip-Top; “what do you girls know of
+flying?”
+
+“About as much as you,” said Speckle.  “However, I’m sure I don’t care
+how soon you take yourself off, for you take up more room than all the
+rest put together.”
+
+“You mind yourself, Master Speckle, or you’ll get something you don’t
+like,” said Tip-Top, still strutting in a very cavalier way on the edge
+of the nest, and sticking up his little short tail quite valiantly.
+
+“O my darlings,” said their mamma, now fluttering home, “cannot I ever
+teach you to live in love?”
+
+“It’s all Tip-Top’s fault,” screamed the other birds in a flutter.
+
+“My fault?  Of course, everything in this nest that goes wrong is laid to
+me,” said Tip-Top; “and I’ll leave it to anybody, now, if I crowd
+anybody.  I’ve been sitting outside, on the very edge of the nest, and
+there’s Speckle has got my place.”
+
+“Who wants your place?” said Speckle.  “I’m sure you can come in, if you
+please.”
+
+“My dear boy,” said the mother, “do go into the nest and be a good little
+bird, and then you will be happy.”
+
+“That’s always the talk,” said Tip-Top.  “I’m too big for the nest, and I
+want to see the world.  It’s full of beautiful things, I know.  Now
+there’s the most lovely creature, with bright eyes, that comes under the
+tree every day, and wants me to come down in the grass and play with
+her.”
+
+“My son, my son, beware!” said the frightened mother; “that
+lovely-seeming creature is our dreadful enemy, the cat,—a horrid monster,
+with teeth and claws.”
+
+At this, all the little birds shuddered and cuddled deeper in the nest;
+only Tip-Top in his heart disbelieved it.  “I’m too old a bird,” said he
+to himself, “to believe _that_ story; mother is chaffing me.  But I’ll
+show her that I can take care of myself.”
+
+So the next morning, after the father and mother were gone, Tip-Top got
+on the edge of the nest again, and looked over and saw lovely Miss Pussy
+washing her face among the daisies under the tree, and her hair was sleek
+and white as the daisies, and her eyes were yellow and beautiful to
+behold, and she looked up to the tree bewitchingly, and said, “Little
+birds, little birds, come down; Pussy wants to play with you.”
+
+“Only look at her!” said Tip-Top; “her eyes are like gold.”
+
+“No, don’t look,” said Singer and Speckle.  “She will bewitch you, and
+then eat you up.”
+
+“I’d like to see her try to eat me up,” said Tip-Top, again balancing his
+short tail over the nest.  “Just as if she would.  She’s just the nicest,
+most innocent creature going, and only wants us to have fun.  We never do
+have any fun in this old nest!”
+
+Then the yellow eyes below shot a bewildering light into Tip-Top’s eyes,
+and a voice sounded sweet as silver: “Little birds, little birds, come
+down; Pussy wants to play with you.”
+
+“Her paws are as white as velvet,” said Tip-Top, “and so soft!  I don’t
+believe she has any claws.”
+
+“Don’t go, brother, don’t!” screamed both sisters.
+
+All we know about it is, that a moment after a direful scream was heard
+from the nursery window.  “O mamma, mamma, do come here!  Tip-Top’s
+fallen out of the nest, and the cat has got him!”
+
+Away ran Pussy with foolish little Tip-Top in her mouth, and he squeaked
+dolefully when he felt her sharp teeth.  Wicked Miss Pussy had no mind to
+eat him at once; she meant just as she said, to “play with him.”  So she
+ran off to a private place among the currant-bushes, while all the little
+curly heads were scattered up and down looking for her.
+
+Did you ever see a cat play with a bird or a mouse?  She sets it down,
+and seems to go off and leave it; but the moment it makes the first
+movement to get away,—pounce! she springs on it, and shakes it in her
+mouth; and so she teases and tantalizes it, till she gets ready to kill
+and eat it.  I can’t say why she does it, except that it is a cat’s
+nature; and it is a very bad nature for foolish young robins to get
+acquainted with.
+
+“Oh, where is he? where is he?  Do find my poor Tip-Top,” said Jamie,
+crying as loud as he could scream.  “I’ll kill that horrid cat,—I’ll kill
+her!”
+
+                    [Picture: Tip-Top in bad Company]
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Robin, who had come home meantime, joined their plaintive
+chirping to the general confusion; and Mrs. Robin’s bright eyes soon
+discovered her poor little son, where Pussy was patting and rolling him
+from one paw to the other under the currant-bushes; and settling on the
+bush above, she called the little folks to the spot by her cries.
+
+Jamie plunged under the bush, and caught the cat with luckless Tip-Top in
+her mouth; and, with one or two good thumps, he obliged her to let him
+go.  Tip-Top was not dead, but in a sadly draggled and torn state.  Some
+of his feathers were torn out, and one of his wings was broken, and hung
+down in a melancholy way.
+
+“Oh, what _shall_ we do for him?  He will die.  Poor Tip-Top!” said the
+children.
+
+“Let’s put him back into the nest, children,” said mamma.  “His mother
+will know best what to do with him.”
+
+So a ladder was got, and papa climbed up and put poor Tip-Top safely into
+the nest.  The cat had shaken all the nonsense well out of him; he was a
+dreadfully humbled young robin.
+
+The time came at last when all the other birds in the nest learned to
+fly, and fluttered and flew about everywhere; but poor melancholy Tip-Top
+was still confined to the nest with a broken wing.  Finally, _as_ it
+became evident that it would be long before he could fly, Jamie took him
+out of the nest, and made a nice little cage for him, and used to feed
+him every day, and he would hop about and seem tolerably contented; but
+it was evident that he would be a lame-winged robin all his days.
+
+                    [Picture: Feeding the lame Robin]
+
+Jamie’s mother told him that Tip-Top’s history was an allegory.
+
+“I don’t know what you mean, mamma,” said Jamie.
+
+“When something in a bird’s life is like something in a boy’s life, or
+when a story is similar in its meaning to reality, we call it an
+allegory.  Little boys, when they are about half grown up, sometimes do
+just as Tip-Top did.  They are in a great hurry to get away from home
+into the great world; and then temptation comes, with bright eyes and
+smooth velvet paws, and promises them fun; and they go to bad places;
+they get to smoking, and then to drinking; and, finally, the bad habit
+gets them in its teeth and claws, and plays with them as a cat does with
+a mouse.  They try to reform, just as your robin tried to get away from
+the cat; but their bad habits pounce on them and drag them back.  And so,
+when the time comes that they want to begin life, they are miserable,
+broken-down creatures, like your broken-winged robin.
+
+“So, Jamie, remember, and don’t try to be a man before your time, and let
+your parents judge for you while you are young; and never believe in any
+soft white Pussy, with golden eyes, that comes and wants to tempt you to
+come down and play with her.  If a big boy offers to teach you to smoke a
+cigar, that is Pussy.  If a boy wants you to go into a billiard-saloon,
+that is Pussy.  If a boy wants you to learn to drink anything with spirit
+in it, however sweetened and disguised, remember Pussy is there.  And
+Pussy’s claws are long, and Pussy’s teeth are strong; and if she gives
+you one shake in your youth, you will be like a broken-winged robin all
+your days.”
+
+
+
+
+_MISS KATY-DID AND MISS CRICKET_.
+
+
+MISS KATY-DID sat on the branch of a flowering azalea, in her best suit
+of fine green and silver, with wings of point-lace from Mother Nature’s
+finest web.
+
+Miss Katy was in the very highest possible spirits, because her gallant
+cousin, Colonel Katy-did, had looked in to make her a morning visit.  It
+was a fine morning, too, which goes for as much among the Katy-dids as
+among men and women.  It was, in fact, a morning that Miss Katy thought
+must have been made on purpose for her to enjoy herself in.  There had
+been a patter of rain the night before, which had kept the leaves awake
+talking to each other till nearly morning; but by dawn the small winds
+had blown brisk little puffs, and whisked the heavens clear and bright
+with their tiny wings, as you have seen Susan clear away the cobwebs in
+your mamma’s parlour; and so now there were only left a thousand
+blinking, burning water-drops, hanging like convex mirrors at the end of
+each leaf, and Miss Katy admired herself in each one.
+
+“Certainly I am a pretty creature,” she said to herself; and when the
+gallant colonel said something about being dazzled by her beauty, she
+only tossed her head and took it as quite a matter of course.
+
+“The fact is, my dear colonel,” she said, “I am thinking of giving a
+party, and you must help me to make out the lists.”
+
+“My dear, you make me the happiest of Katy-dids.”
+
+“Now,” said Miss Katy-did, drawing an azalea-leaf towards her, “let us
+see—whom shall we have?  The Fireflies, of course; everybody wants them,
+they are so brilliant,—a little unsteady, to be sure, but quite in the
+higher circles.”
+
+“Yes, we must have the Fireflies,” echoed the colonel.
+
+“Well, then, and the Butterflies and the Moths.  Now, there’s a trouble.
+There’s such an everlasting tribe of those Moths; and if you invite dull
+people they’re always sure all to come, every one of them.  Still, if you
+have the Butterflies, you can’t leave out the Moths.”
+
+“Old Mrs. Moth has been laid up lately with a gastric fever, and that may
+keep two or three of the Misses Moth at home,” said the colonel.
+
+“Whatever could give the old lady such a turn?” said Miss Katy.  “I
+thought she never was sick.”
+
+“I suspect it’s high living.  I understand she and her family ate up a
+whole ermine cape last month, and it disagreed with them.”
+
+“For my part, I can’t conceive how the Moths can live as they do,” said
+Miss Katy, with a face of disgust.  “Why, I could no more eat worsted and
+fur, as they do—”
+
+“That is quite evident from the fairy-like delicacy of your appearance,”
+said the colonel.  “One can see that nothing so gross or material has
+ever entered into your system.”
+
+“I’m sure,” said Miss Katy, “mamma says she don’t know what does keep me
+alive; half a dewdrop and a little bit of the nicest part of a rose-leaf,
+I assure you, often last me for a day.  But we are forgetting our list.
+Let’s see—the Fireflies, Butterflies, Moths.  The Bees must come, I
+suppose.”
+
+“The Bees are a worthy family,” said the colonel.
+
+“Worthy enough, but dreadfully humdrum,” said Miss Katy.  “They never
+talk about anything but honey and housekeeping; still, they are a class
+of people one cannot neglect.”
+
+“Well, then, there are the Bumble-Bees.”
+
+“Oh, I dote on them!  General Bumble is one of the most dashing,
+brilliant fellows of the day.”
+
+“I think he is shockingly corpulent,” said Colonel Katy-did, not at all
+pleased to hear him praised; “don’t you?”
+
+“I don’t know but he _is_ a little stout,” said Miss Katy; “but so
+distinguished and elegant in his manners—something quite martial and
+breezy about him.”
+
+“Well, if you invite the Bumble-Bees, you must have the Hornets.”
+
+“Those spiteful Hornets!  I detest them!”
+
+“Nevertheless, dear Miss Katy, one does not like to offend the Hornets.”
+
+“No, one can’t.  There are those five Misses Hornet—dreadful old
+maids!—as full of spite as they can live.  You may be sure they will
+every one come, and be looking about to make spiteful remarks.  Put down
+the Hornets, though.”
+
+“How about the Mosquitoes!” said the colonel.
+
+“Those horrid Mosquitoes—they are dreadfully plebeian!  Can’t one cut
+them?”
+
+“Well dear Miss Katy,” said the colonel, “if you ask my candid opinion as
+a friend, I should say not.  There’s young Mosquito, who graduated last
+year, has gone into literature, and is connected with some of our leading
+papers, and they say he carries the sharpest pen of all the writers.  It
+won’t do to offend him.”
+
+“And so I suppose we must have his old aunts, and all six of his sisters,
+and all his dreadfully common relations.”
+
+“It is a pity,” said the colonel; “but one must pay one’s tax to
+society.”
+
+Just at this moment the conference was interrupted by a visitor, Miss
+Keziah Cricket, who came in with her work-bag on her arm to ask a
+subscription for a poor family of Ants who had just had their house hoed
+up in clearing the garden-walks.
+
+“How stupid of them,” said Katy, “not to know better than to put their
+house in the garden-walk; that’s just like those Ants.”
+
+“Well, they are in great trouble; all their stores destroyed, and their
+father killed—cut quite in two by a hoe.”
+
+“How very shocking!  I don’t like to hear of such disagreeable things; it
+affects my nerves terribly.  Well, I’m sure I haven’t anything to give.
+Mamma said yesterday she was sure she didn’t know how our bills were to
+be paid; and there’s my green satin with point-lace yet to come home.”
+And Miss Katy-did shrugged her shoulders and affected to be very busy
+with Colonel Katy-did, in just the way that young ladies sometimes do
+when they wish to signify to visitors that they had better leave.
+
+Little Miss Cricket perceived how the case stood, and so hopped briskly
+off, without giving herself even time to be offended.  “Poor extravagant
+little thing!” said she to herself, “it was hardly worth while to ask
+her.”
+
+“Pray, shall you invite the Crickets?” said Colonel Katy-did.
+
+“Who?  I?  Why, colonel, what a question!  Invite the Crickets?  Of what
+can you be thinking?”
+
+“And shall you not ask the Locusts, and the Grasshoppers?”
+
+“Certainly.  The Locusts, of course,—a very old and distinguished family;
+and the Grasshoppers are pretty well, and ought to be asked.  But we must
+draw a line somewhere,—and the Crickets! why, it’s shocking even to think
+of!”
+
+“I thought they were nice, respectable people.”
+
+“Oh, perfectly nice and respectable,—very good people, in fact, so far as
+that goes.  But then you must see the difficulty.”
+
+“My dear cousin, I am afraid you must explain.”
+
+“Why, their _colour_, to be sure.  Don’t you see?”
+
+“Oh!” said the colonel.  “That’s it, is it?  Excuse me, but I have been
+living in France, where these distinctions are wholly unknown, and I have
+not yet got myself in the train of fashionable ideas here.”
+
+“Well, then, let me teach you,” said Miss Katy.  “You know we republicans
+go for no distinctions except those created by Nature herself, and we
+found our rank upon _colour_, because that is clearly a thing that none
+has any hand in but our Maker.  You see?”
+
+“Yes; but who decides what colour shall be the reigning colour?”
+
+“I’m surprised to hear the question!  The only true colour—the only
+proper one—is _our_ colour, to be sure.  A lovely pea-green is the
+precise shade on which to found aristocratic distinction.  But then we
+are liberal;—we associate with the Moths, who are gray; with the
+Butterflies, who are blue-and-gold coloured; with the Grasshoppers,
+yellow and brown; and society would become dreadfully mixed if it were
+not fortunately ordered that the Crickets are black as jet.  The fact is,
+that a class to be looked down upon is necessary to all elegant society;
+and if the Crickets were not black, we could not keep them down, because,
+as everybody knows, they are often a great deal cleverer than we are.
+They have a vast talent for music and dancing; they are very quick at
+learning, and would be getting to the very top of the ladder if we once
+allowed them to climb.  But their being black is a convenience; because,
+as long as we are green and they black, we have a superiority that can
+never be taken from us.  Don’t you see now?”
+
+“Oh yes, I see exactly,” said the colonel.
+
+“Now that Keziah Cricket, who just came in here, is quite a musician, and
+her old father plays the violin beautifully;—by the way, we might engage
+him for our orchestra.”
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+And so Miss Katy’s ball came off, and the performers kept it up from
+sundown till daybreak, so that it seemed as if every leaf in the forest
+were alive.  The Katy-dids and the Mosquitoes, and the Locusts, and a
+full orchestra of Crickets made the air perfectly vibrate, insomuch that
+old Parson Too-Whit, who was preaching a Thursday evening lecture to a
+very small audience, announced to his hearers that he should certainly
+write a discourse against dancing for the next weekly occasion.
+
+The good doctor was even with his word in the matter, and gave out some
+very sonorous discourses, without in the least stopping the round of
+gaieties kept up by these dissipated Katy-dids, which ran on, night after
+night, till the celebrated Jack Frost epidemic, which occurred somewhere
+about the first of September.
+
+Poor Miss Katy, with her flimsy green satin and point-lace, was one of
+the first victims, and fell from the bough in company with a sad shower
+of last year’s leaves.  The worthy Cricket family, however, avoided Jack
+Frost by emigrating in time to the chimney-corner of a nice little
+cottage that had been built in the wood that summer.
+
+There good old Mr. and Mrs. Cricket, with sprightly Miss Keziah and her
+brothers and sisters, found a warm and welcome home; and when the storm
+howled without, and lashed the poor naked trees, the Crickets on the warm
+hearth would chirp out cheery welcome to papa as he came in from the
+snowy path, or mamma as she sat at her work-basket.
+
+“Cheep, cheep, cheep!” little Freddy would say.  “Mamma, who is it says
+‘cheep’?”
+
+“Dear Freddy, it’s our own dear little cricket, who loves us and comes to
+sing to us when the snow is on the ground.”
+
+So when poor Miss Katy-did’s satin and lace were all swept away, the warm
+home-talents of the Crickets made for them a welcome refuge.
+
+
+
+
+_MOTHER MAGPIE’S MISCHIEF_.
+
+
+OLD Mother Magpie was about the busiest character in the forest.  But you
+must know that there is a great difference between being busy and being
+industrious.  One may be very busy all the time, and yet not in the least
+industrious; and this was the case with Mother Magpie.
+
+She was always full of everybody’s business but her own—up and down, here
+and there, everywhere but in her own nest, knowing everyone’s affairs,
+telling what everybody had been doing or ought to do, and ready to cast
+her advice _gratis_ at every bird and beast of the woods.
+
+Now she bustled up to the parsonage at the top of the oak-tree, to tell
+old Parson Too-Whit what she thought he ought to preach for his next
+sermon, and how dreadful the morals of the parish were becoming.  Then,
+having perfectly bewildered the poor old gentleman, who was always sleepy
+of a Monday morning, Mother Magpie would take a peep into Mrs. Oriole’s
+nest, sit chattering on a bough above, and pour forth floods of advice,
+which, poor little Mrs. Oriole used to say to her husband, bewildered her
+more than a hard north-east storm.
+
+“Depend upon it, my dear,” Mother Magpie would say, “that this way of
+building your nest, swinging like an old empty stocking from a bough,
+isn’t at all the thing.  I never built one so in my life, and I never
+have headaches.  Now you complain always that your head aches whenever I
+call upon you.  It’s all on account of this way of swinging and swaying
+about in such an absurd manner.”
+
+“But, my dear,” piped Mrs. Oriole timidly, “the Orioles always have built
+in this manner, and it suits our constitution.”
+
+“A fiddle on your constitution!  How can you tell what agrees with your
+constitution unless you try?  You own you are not well; you are subject
+to headaches; and every physician will tell you that a tilting motion
+disorders the stomach and acts upon the brain.  Ask old Dr. Kite.  I was
+talking with him about your case only yesterday, and says he, ‘Mrs.
+Magpie, I perfectly agree with you.’”
+
+“But my husband prefers this style of building.”
+
+“That’s only because he isn’t properly instructed.  Pray, did you ever
+attend Dr. Kite’s lectures on the nervous system?”
+
+“No, I have no time to attend lectures.  Who would sit on the eggs?”
+
+“Why, your husband, to be sure; don’t he take his turn in sitting?  If he
+don’t, he ought to.  I shall speak to him about it.  My husband always
+sits regularly half the time, that I may have time to go about and
+exercise.”
+
+“O Mrs. Magpie, pray don’t speak to my husband; he will think I’ve been
+complaining.”
+
+“No, no, he won’t.  Let me alone.  I understand just how to say the
+thing.  I’ve advised hundreds of young husbands in my day, and I never
+gave offence.”
+
+“But I tell you, Mrs. Magpie, I don’t want any interference between my
+husband and me, and I will not have it,” says Mrs. Oriole, with her
+little round eyes flashing with indignation.
+
+“Don’t put yourself in a passion, my dear; the more you talk, the more
+sure I am that your nervous system is running down, or you wouldn’t
+forget good manners in this way.  You’d better take my advice, for I
+understand just what to do,”—and away sails Mother Magpie; and presently
+young Oriole comes home all in a flutter.
+
+“I say, my dear, if you will persist in gossiping over our private family
+matters with that old Mother Magpie—”
+
+“My dear, I don’t gossip.  She comes and bores me to death with talking,
+and then goes off and mistakes what she has been saying for what I said.”
+
+“But you must _cut_ her.”
+
+“I try to, all I can; but she won’t _be_ cut.”
+
+“It’s enough to make a bird swear,” said Tommy Oriole.
+
+Tommy Oriole, to say the truth, had as good a heart as ever beat under
+bird’s feathers; but then he had a weakness for concerts and general
+society, because he was held to be, by all odds, the handsomest bird in
+the woods, and sung like an angel; and so the truth was he didn’t confine
+himself so much to the domestic nest as Tom Titmouse or Billy Wren.  But
+he determined that he wouldn’t have old Mother Magpie interfering with
+his affairs.
+
+“The fact is,” quoth Tommy, “I am a society bird, and Nature has marked
+out for me a course beyond the range of the commonplace, and my wife must
+learn to accommodate.  If she has a brilliant husband, whose success
+gratifies her ambition and places her in a distinguished public position,
+she must pay something for it.  I’m sure Billy Wren’s wife would give her
+very bill to see her husband in the circles where I am quite at home.  To
+say the truth, my wife was all well enough content till old Mother Magpie
+interfered.  It is quite my duty to take strong ground, and show that I
+cannot be dictated to.”
+
+So, after this, Tommy Oriole went to rather more concerts, and spent less
+time at home than ever he did before, which was all that Mother Magpie
+effected in that quarter.  I confess this was very bad in Tommy; but then
+birds are no better than men in domestic matters, and sometimes will take
+the most unreasonable courses, if a meddlesome Magpie gets her claw into
+their nest.
+
+But old Mother Magpie had now got a new business in hand in another
+quarter.  She bustled off down to Water-Dock Lane, where, as we said in a
+former narrative, lived the old music-teacher, Dr. Bullfrog.  The poor
+old doctor was a simple-minded, good, amiable creature, who had played
+the double-bass and led the forest choir on all public occasions since
+nobody knows when.  Latterly some youngsters had arisen who sneered at
+his performances as behind the age.  In fact, since a great city had
+grown up in the vicinity of the forest, tribes of wandering boys broke up
+the simple tastes and quiet habits which old Mother Nature had always
+kept up in those parts.  They pulled the young checkerberry before it
+even had time to blossom, rooted up the sassafras shrubs and gnawed their
+roots, fired off guns at the birds, and on several occasions, when old
+Dr. Bullfrog was leading a concert, had dashed in and broken up the choir
+by throwing stones.
+
+This was not the worst of it.  The little varlets had a way of jeering at
+the simple old doctor and his concerts, and mimicking the tones of his
+bass-viol.  “There you go, Paddy-go-donk, Paddy-go-donk—umph—chunk,” some
+rascal of a boy would shout, while poor old Bullfrog’s yellow spectacles
+would be bedewed with tears of honest indignation.  In time, the jeers of
+these little savages began to tell on the society in the forest, and to
+corrupt their simple manners; and it was whispered among the younger and
+more heavy birds and squirrels that old Bullfrog was a bore, and that it
+was time to get up a new style of music in the parish, and to give the
+charge of it to some more modern performer.
+
+Poor old Dr. Bullfrog knew nothing of this, however, and was doing his
+simple best, in peace, when Mother Magpie called in upon him one morning.
+
+“Well, neighbour, how unreasonable people are!  Who would have thought
+that the youth of our generation should have no more consideration for
+established merit?  Now, for my part, _I_ think your music-teaching never
+was better; and as for our choir, I maintain constantly that it never was
+in better order, but—Well, one may wear her tongue out, but one can never
+make these young folks listen to reason.”
+
+“I really don’t understand you, ma’am,” said poor Dr. Bullfrog.
+
+“What! you haven’t heard of a committee that is going to call on you, to
+ask you to resign the care of the parish music?”
+
+“Madam,” said Dr. Bullfrog, with all that energy of tone for which he was
+remarkable, “I don’t believe it,—I _can’t_ believe it.  You must have
+made a mistake.”
+
+“I mistake!  No, no, my good friend; I never make mistakes.  What I know,
+I know certainly.  Wasn’t it I that said I knew there was an engagement
+between Tim Chipmunk and Nancy Nibble, who are married this very day?  I
+knew that thing six weeks before any bird or beast in our parts; and I
+can tell you, you are going to be scandalously and ungratefully treated,
+Dr. Bullfrog.”
+
+“Bless me, we shall all be ruined!” said Mrs. Bullfrog; “my poor
+husband—”
+
+“Oh, as to that, if you take things in time, and listen to my advice,”
+said Mother Magpie, “we may yet pull you through.  You must alter your
+style a little,—adapt it to modern times.  Everybody now is a little
+touched with the operatic fever, and there’s Tommy Oriole has been to New
+Orleans and brought back a touch of the artistic.  If you would try his
+style a little,—something Tyrolean, you see.”
+
+“Dear madam, consider my voice.  I never could hit the high notes.”
+
+“How do you know?  It’s all practice; Tommy Oriole says so.  Just try the
+scales.  As to your voice, your manner of living has a great deal to do
+with it.  I always did tell you that your passion for water injured your
+singing.  Suppose Tommy Oriole should sit half his days up to his hips in
+water, as you do,—his voice would be as hoarse and rough as yours.  Come
+up on the bank and learn to perch, as we birds do.  We are the true
+musical race.”
+
+And so poor Mr. Bullfrog was persuaded to forego his pleasant little
+cottage under the cat-tails, where his green spectacles and honest round
+back had excited, even in the minds of the boys, sentiments of respect
+and compassion.  He came up into the garden, and established himself
+under a burdock, and began to practise Italian scales.
+
+The result was, that poor old Dr. Bullfrog, instead of being considered
+as a respectable old bore, got himself universally laughed at for aping
+fashionable manners.  Every bird and beast in the forest had a gibe at
+him; and even old Parson Too-Whit thought it worth his while to make him
+a pastoral call, and admonish him about courses unbefitting his age and
+standing.  As to Mother Magpie, you may be sure that she assured every
+one how sorry she was that dear old Dr. Bullfrog had made such a fool of
+himself; if he had taken her advice, he would have kept on respectably as
+a nice old Bullfrog should.
+
+But the tragedy for the poor old music-teacher grew even more melancholy
+in its termination; for one day, as he was sitting disconsolately under a
+currant-bush in the garden, practising his poor old notes in a quiet way,
+_thump_ came a great blow of a hoe, which nearly broke his back.
+
+“Hallo! what ugly beast have we got here?” said Tom Noakes, the
+gardener’s boy.  “Here, here, Wasp, my boy.”
+
+What a fright for a poor, quiet, old Bullfrog, as little wiry, wicked
+Wasp came at him, barking and yelping.  He jumped with all his force
+sheer over a patch of bushes into the river, and swam back to his old
+home among the cat-tails.  And always after that it was observable that
+he was very low-spirited, and took very dark views of life; but nothing
+made him so angry as any allusion to Mother Magpie, of whom, from that
+time, he never spoke except as _Old Mother Mischief_.
+
+
+
+
+_THE SQUIRRELS THAT LIVE IN A HOUSE_.
+
+
+ONCE upon a time a gentleman went out into a great forest, and cut away
+the trees, and built there a very nice little cottage.  It was set very
+low on the ground, and had very large bow-windows, and so much of it was
+glass that one could look through it on every side and see what was going
+on in the forest.  You could see the shadows of the fern-leaves, as they
+flickered and wavered over the ground, and the scarlet partridge-berry
+and winter-green plums that matted round the roots of the trees, and the
+bright spots of sunshine that fell through their branches and went
+dancing about among the bushes and leaves at their roots.  You could see
+the chirping sparrows and the thrushes and robins and bluebirds building
+their nests here and there among the branches, and watch them from day to
+day as they laid their eggs and hatched their young.  You could also see
+red squirrels, and gray squirrels, and little striped chip-squirrels,
+darting and springing about, here and there and everywhere, running races
+with each other from bough to bough, and chattering at each other in the
+gayest possible manner.
+
+You may be sure that such a strange thing as a house for human beings to
+live in did not come into this wild wood without making quite a stir and
+excitement among the inhabitants that lived there before.  All the time
+it was building, there was the greatest possible commotion in the breasts
+of all the older population; and there wasn’t even a black ant, or a
+cricket, that did not have his own opinion about it, and did not tell the
+other ants and crickets just what he thought the world was coming to in
+consequence.
+
+Old Mrs. Rabbit declared that the hammering and pounding made her
+nervous, and gave her most melancholy forebodings of evil times.  “Depend
+upon it, children,” she said to her long-eared family, “no good will come
+to us from this establishment.  Where man is, there comes always trouble
+for us poor rabbits.”
+
+The old chestnut-tree, that grew on the edge of the woodland ravine, drew
+a great sigh which shook all his leaves, and expressed it as his
+conviction that no good would ever come of it,—a conviction that at once
+struck to the heart of every chestnut-burr.  The squirrels talked
+together of the dreadful state of things that would ensue.  “Why!” said
+old Father Gray, “it’s evident that Nature made the nuts for us; but one
+of these great human creatures will carry off and gormandize upon what
+would keep a hundred poor families of squirrels in comfort.”  Old
+Ground-mole said it did not require very sharp eyes to see into the
+future, and it would just end in bringing down the price of real estate
+in the whole vicinity, so that every decent-minded and respectable
+quadruped would be obliged to move away;—for his part, he was ready to
+sell out for anything he could get.  The bluebirds and bobolinks, it is
+true, took more cheerful views of matters; but then, as old Mrs.
+Ground-mole observed, they were a flighty set,—half their time careering
+and dissipating in the Southern States,—and could not be expected to have
+that patriotic attachment to their native soil that those had who had
+grubbed in it from their earliest days.
+
+“This race of man,” said the old chestnut-tree, “is never ceasing in its
+restless warfare on Nature.  In our forest solitudes hitherto how
+peacefully, how quietly, how regularly has everything gone on!  Not a
+flower has missed its appointed time of blossoming, or failed to perfect
+its fruit.  No matter how hard has been the winter, how loud the winds
+have roared, and how high the snow-banks have been piled, all has come
+right again in spring.  Not the least root has lost itself under the
+snows, so as not to be ready with its fresh leaves and blossoms when the
+sun returns to melt the frosty chains of winter.  We have storms
+sometimes that threaten to shake everything to pieces,—the thunder roars,
+the lightning flashes, and the winds howl and beat; but, when all is
+past, everything comes out better and brighter than before,—not a bird is
+killed, not the frailest flower destroyed.  But man comes, and in one day
+he will make a desolation that centuries cannot repair.  Ignorant boor
+that he is, and all incapable of appreciating the glorious works of
+Nature, it seems to be his glory to be able to destroy in a few hours
+what it was the work of ages to produce.  The noble oak, that has been
+cut away to build this contemptible human dwelling, had a life older and
+wiser than that of any man in this country.  That tree has seen
+generations of men come and go.  It was a fresh young tree when
+Shakespeare was born; it was hardly a middle-aged tree when he died; it
+was growing here when the first ship brought the white men to our shores,
+and hundreds and hundreds of those whom they call bravest, wisest,
+strongest,—warriors, statesmen, orators, and poets,—have been born, have
+grown up, lived, and died, while yet it has outlived them all.  It has
+seen more wisdom than the best of them; but two or three hours of brutal
+strength sufficed to lay it low.  Which of these dolts could make a tree?
+I’d like to see them do anything like it.  How noisy and clumsy are all
+their movements,—chopping, pounding, rasping, hammering.  And, after all,
+what do they build?  In the forest we do everything so quietly.  A tree
+would be ashamed of itself that could not get its growth without making
+such a noise and dust and fuss.  Our life is the perfection of good
+manners.  For my part, I feel degraded at the mere presence of these
+human beings; but, alas! I am old; a hollow place at my heart warns me of
+the progress of decay, and probably it will be seized upon by these
+rapacious creatures as an excuse for laying me as low as my noble green
+brother.”
+
+In spite of all this disquiet about it, the little cottage grew and was
+finished.  The walls were covered with pretty paper, the floors carpeted
+with pretty carpets; and, in fact, when it was all arranged, and the
+garden walks laid out, and beds of flowers planted around, it began to be
+confessed, even among the most critical, that it was not after all so bad
+a thing as was to have been feared.
+
+A black ant went in one day and made a tour of exploration up and down,
+over chairs and tables, up the ceilings and down again, and, coming out,
+wrote an article for the _Crickets’ Gazette_, in which he described the
+new abode as a veritable palace.  Several butterflies fluttered in and
+sailed about and were wonderfully delighted, and then a bumble-bee and
+two or three honey-bees, who expressed themselves well pleased with the
+house, but more especially enchanted with the garden.  In fact, when it
+was found that the proprietors were very fond of the rural solitudes of
+Nature, and had come out there for the purpose of enjoying them
+undisturbed; that they watched and spared the anemones, and the violets,
+and bloodroots, and dog’s-tooth violets, and little woolly rolls of fern
+that began to grow up under the trees in spring; that they never allowed
+a gun to be fired to scare the birds, and watched the building of their
+nests with the greatest interest,—then an opinion in favour of human
+beings began to gain ground, and every cricket and bird and beast was
+loud in their praise.
+
+“Mamma,” said young Tit-bit, a frisky young squirrel, to his mother one
+day, “why won’t you let Frisky and me go into that pretty new cottage to
+play?”
+
+“My dear,” said his mother, who was a very wary and careful old squirrel,
+“how can you think of it?  The race of man are full of devices for traps
+and pitfalls, and who could say what might happen if you put yourself in
+their power?  If you had wings like the butterflies and bees, you might
+fly in and out again, and so gratify your curiosity; but, as matters
+stand, it’s best for you to keep well out of their way.”
+
+“But, mother, there is such a nice, good lady lives there!  I believe she
+is a good fairy, and she seems to love us all so; she sits in the
+bow-window and watches us for hours, and she scatters corn all round at
+the roots of the tree for us to eat.”
+
+“She is nice enough,” said the old mother-squirrel, “if you keep far
+enough off; but I tell you, you can’t be too careful.”
+
+Now this good fairy that the squirrels discoursed about was a nice little
+old lady that the children used to call Aunt Esther, and she was a dear
+lover of birds and squirrels, and all sorts of animals, and had studied
+their little ways till she knew just what would please them; and so she
+would every day throw out crumbs for the sparrows, and little bits of
+bread and wool and cotton to help the birds that were building their
+nests, and would scatter corn and nuts for the squirrels; and while she
+sat at her work in the bow-window she would smile to see the birds flying
+away with the wool, and the squirrels nibbling their nuts.  After a while
+the birds grew so tame that they would hop into the bow-window and eat
+their crumbs off the carpet.
+
+“There, mamma,” said Tit-bit and Frisky, “only see Jenny Wren and Cock
+Robin have been in at the bow-window, and it didn’t hurt them, and why
+can’t we go?”
+
+“Well, my dears,” said old Mother Squirrel, “you must do it very
+carefully; never forget that you haven’t wings like Jenny Wren and Cock
+Robin.”
+
+So the next day Aunt Esther laid a train of corn from the roots of the
+trees to the bow-window, and then from the bow-window to her work-basket,
+which stood on the floor beside her; and then she put quite a handful of
+corn in the work-basket, and sat down by it, and seemed intent on her
+sewing.  Very soon, creep, creep, creep, came Tit-bit and Frisky to the
+window, and then into the room, just as sly and as still as could be, and
+Aunt Esther sat just like a statue for fear of disturbing them.  They
+looked all around in high glee, and when they came to the basket it
+seemed to them a wonderful little summer-house, made on purpose for them
+to play in.  They nosed about in it, and turned over the scissors and the
+needle-book, and took a nibble at her white wax, and jostled the spools,
+meanwhile stowing away the corn on each side of their little chops, till
+they both of them looked as if they had the mumps.
+
+                      [Picture: Venturous Squirrels]
+
+At last Aunt Esther put out her hand to touch them, when, whisk-frisk,
+out they went, and up the trees, chattering and laughing before she had
+time even to wink.
+
+But after this they used to come in every day, and when she put corn in
+her hand and held it very still they would eat out of it; and finally
+they would get into her hand, until one day she gently closed it over
+them, and Frisky and Tit-bit were fairly caught.
+
+Oh, how their hearts beat! but the good fairy only spoke gently to them,
+and soon unclosed her hand and let them go again.  So day after day they
+grew to have more and more faith in her, till they would climb into her
+work-basket, sit on her shoulder, or nestle away in her lap as she sat
+sewing.  They made also long exploring voyages all over the house, up and
+through all the chambers, till finally, I grieve to say, poor Frisky came
+to an untimely end by being drowned in the water-tank at the top of the
+house.
+
+The dear good fairy passed away from the house in time, and went to a
+land where the flowers never fade and the birds never die; but the
+squirrels still continue to make the place a favourite resort.
+
+“In fact, my dear,” said old Mother Red one winter to her mate, “what is
+the use of one’s living in this cold, hollow tree, when these amiable
+people have erected this pretty cottage, where there is plenty of room
+for us and them too?  Now I have examined between the eaves, and there is
+a charming place where we can store our nuts, and where we can whip in
+and out of the garret, and have the free range of the house; and, say
+what you will, these humans have delightful ways of being warm and
+comfortable in winter.”
+
+So Mr. and Mrs. Red set up housekeeping in the cottage, and had no end of
+nuts and other good things stored up there.  The trouble of all this was,
+that, as Mrs. Red was a notable body, and got up to begin her
+housekeeping operations, and woke up all her children, at four o’clock in
+the morning, the good people often were disturbed by a great rattling and
+fuss in the walls, while yet it seemed dark night.  Then sometimes, too,
+I grieve to say, Mrs. Squirrel would give her husband vigorous curtain
+lectures in the night, which made him so indignant that he would rattle
+off to another quarter of the garret to sleep by himself; and all this
+broke the rest of the worthy people who built the house.
+
+What is to be done about this we don’t know.  What would you do about it?
+Would you let the squirrels live in your house or not?  When our good
+people come down of a cold winter morning, and see the squirrels dancing
+and frisking down the trees, and chasing each other so merrily over the
+garden chair between them, or sitting with their tails saucily over their
+backs, they look so jolly and jaunty and pretty that they almost forgive
+them for disturbing their night’s rest, and think that they will not do
+anything to drive them out of the garret to-day.  And so it goes on; but
+how long the squirrels will rent the cottage in this fashion, I’m sure I
+dare not undertake to say.
+
+
+
+
+_HUM_, _THE SON OF BUZ_.
+
+
+AT Rye Beach, during our summer’s vacation, there came, as there always
+will to seaside visitors, two or three cold, chilly, rainy days,—days
+when the skies that long had not rained a drop seemed suddenly to bethink
+themselves of their remissness, and to pour down water, not by drops, but
+by pailfuls.  The chilly wind blew and whistled, the water dashed along
+the ground and careered in foamy rills along the roadside, and the bushes
+bent beneath the constant flood.  It was plain that there was to be no
+sea-bathing on such a day, no walks, no rides; and so, shivering and
+drawing our blanket-shawls close about us, we sat down at the window to
+watch the storm outside.
+
+The rose-bushes under the window hung dripping under their load of
+moisture, each spray shedding a constant shower on the spray below it.
+On one of these lower sprays, under the perpetual drip, what should we
+see but a poor little humming-bird, drawn up into the tiniest shivering
+ball, and clinging with a desperate grasp to his uncomfortable perch.  A
+humming-bird we knew him to be at once, though his feathers were so
+matted and glued down by the rain that he looked not much bigger than a
+honey-bee, and as different as possible from the smart, pert, airy little
+character that we had so often seen flirting with the flowers.  He was
+evidently a humming-bird in adversity, and whether he ever would hum
+again looked to us exceedingly doubtful.  Immediately, however, we sent
+out to have him taken in.  When the friendly hand seized him, he gave a
+little, faint, watery squeak, evidently thinking that his last hour was
+come, and that grim death was about to carry him off to the land of dead
+birds.  What a time we had reviving him,—holding the little wet thing in
+the warm hollow of our hands, and feeling him shiver and palpitate!  His
+eyes were fast closed; his tiny claws, which looked slender as cobwebs,
+were knotted close to his body, and it was long before one could feel the
+least motion in them.  Finally, to our great joy, we felt a brisk little
+kick, and then a flutter of wings, and then a determined peck of the
+beak, which showed that there was some bird left in him yet, and that he
+meant at any rate to find out where he was.
+
+Unclosing our hands a small space, out popped the little head with a pair
+of round brilliant eyes.  Then we bethought ourselves of feeding him, and
+forthwith prepared him a stiff glass of sugar and water, a drop of which
+we held to his bill.  After turning his head attentively, like a bird who
+knew what he was about and didn’t mean to be chaffed, he briskly put out
+a long, flexible tongue, slightly forked at the end, and licked off the
+comfortable beverage with great relish.  Immediately he was pronounced
+out of danger by the small humane society which had undertaken the charge
+of his restoration, and we began to cast about for getting him a settled
+establishment in our apartment.  I gave up my work-box to him for a
+sleeping-room, and it was medically ordered that he should take a nap.
+So we filled the box with cotton, and he was formally put to bed, with a
+folded cambric handkerchief round his neck, to keep him from beating his
+wings.  Out of his white wrappings he looked forth green and grave as any
+judge with his bright round eyes.  Like a bird of discretion, he seemed
+to understand what was being done to him, and resigned himself sensibly
+to go to sleep.
+
+The box was covered with a sheet of paper perforated with holes for
+purposes of ventilation; for even humming-birds have a little pair of
+lungs, and need their own little portion of air to fill them, so that
+they may make bright scarlet little drops of blood to keep life’s fire
+burning in their tiny bodies.  Our bird’s lungs manufactured brilliant
+blood, as we found out by experience; for in his first nap he contrived
+to nestle himself into the cotton of which his bed was made, and to get
+more of it than he needed into his long bill.  We pulled it out as
+carefully as we could, but there came out of his bill two round, bright
+scarlet, little drops of blood.  Our chief medical authority looked
+grave, pronounced a probable hemorrhage from the lungs, and gave him over
+at once.  We, less scientific, declared that we had only cut his little
+tongue by drawing out the filaments of cotton, and that he would do well
+enough in time,—as it afterwards appeared he did, for from that day there
+was no more bleeding.  In the course of the second day he began to take
+short flights about the room, though he seemed to prefer to return to us;
+perching on our fingers or heads or shoulders, and sometimes choosing to
+sit in this way for half an hour at a time.  “These great giants,” he
+seemed to say to himself, “are not bad people after all; they have a
+comfortable way with them; how nicely they dried and warmed me!  Truly a
+bird might do worse than to live with them.”
+
+So he made up his mind to form a fourth in the little company of three
+that usually sat and read, worked and sketched, in that apartment, and we
+christened him “Hum, the son of Buz.”  He became an individuality, a
+character, whose little doings formed a part of every letter, and some
+extracts from these will show what some of his little ways were:—
+
+“Hum has learned to sit upon my finger, and eat his sugar and water out
+of a teaspoon with most Christian-like decorum.  He has but one
+weakness—he will occasionally jump into the spoon and sit in his sugar
+and water, and then appear to wonder where it goes to.  His plumage is in
+rather a drabbled state, owing to these performances.  I have sketched
+him as he sat to-day on a bit of Spiræa which I brought in for him.  When
+absorbed in reflection, he sits with his bill straight up in the air, as
+I have drawn him.  Mr. A— reads Macaulay to us, and you should see the
+wise air with which, perched on Jenny’s thumb, he cocked his head now one
+side and then the other, apparently listening with most critical
+attention.  His confidence in us seems unbounded: he lets us stroke his
+head, smooth his feathers, without a flutter; and is never better pleased
+than when sitting, as he has been doing all this while, on my hand,
+turning up his bill, and watching my face with great edification.
+
+“I have just been having a sort of maternal struggle to make him go to
+bed in his box; but he evidently considers himself sufficiently
+convalescent to make a stand for his rights as a bird, and so scratched
+indignantly out of his wrappings, and set himself up to roost on the edge
+of the box, with an air worthy of a turkey, at the very least.  Having
+brought in a lamp, he has opened his eyes round and wide, and sits
+cocking his little head at me reflectively.”
+
+When the weather cleared away, and the sun came out bright, Hum became
+entirely well, and seemed resolved to take the measure of his new life
+with us.  Our windows were closed in the lower part of the sash by frames
+with mosquito gauze, so that the sun and air found free admission, and
+yet our little rover could not pass out.  On the first sunny day he took
+an exact survey of our apartment from ceiling to floor, humming about,
+examining every point with his bill—all the crevices, mouldings, each
+little indentation in the bed-posts, each window-pane, each chair and
+stand; and, as it was a very simply furnished seaside apartment, his
+scrutiny was soon finished.  We wondered at first what this was all
+about; but on watching him more closely, we found that he was actively
+engaged in getting his living, by darting out his long tongue hither and
+thither, and drawing in all the tiny flies and insects which in summer
+time are to be found in an apartment.  In short, we found that, though
+the nectar of flowers was his dessert, yet he had his roast beef and
+mutton-chop to look after, and that his bright, brilliant blood was not
+made out of a simple vegetarian diet.  Very shrewd and keen he was, too,
+in measuring the size of insects before he attempted to swallow them.
+The smallest class were whisked off with lightning speed; but about
+larger ones he would sometimes wheel and hum for some minutes, darting
+hither and thither, and surveying them warily, and if satisfied that they
+could be carried, he would come down with a quick, central dart which
+would finish the unfortunate at a snap.  The larger flies seemed to
+irritate him, especially when they intimated to him that his plumage was
+sugary, by settling on his wings and tail; when he would lay about him
+spitefully, wielding his bill like a sword.  A grasshopper that strayed
+in, and was sunning himself on the window-seat, gave him great
+discomposure.  Hum evidently considered him an intruder, and seemed to
+long to make a dive at him; but, with characteristic prudence, confined
+himself to threatening movements, which did not exactly hit.  He saw
+evidently that he could not swallow him whole, and what might ensue from
+trying him piecemeal he wisely forbore to essay.
+
+Hum had his own favourite places and perches.  From the first day he
+chose for his nightly roost a towel-line which had been drawn across the
+corner over the wash-stand, where he every night established himself with
+one claw in the edge of the towel and the other clasping the line, and,
+ruffling up his feathers till he looked like a little chestnut-burr, he
+would resign himself to the soundest sleep.  He did not tuck his head
+under his wing, but seemed to sink it down between his shoulders, with
+his bill almost straight up in the air.  One evening one of us, going to
+use the towel, jarred the line, and soon after found that Hum had been
+thrown from his perch, and was hanging head downward, fast asleep, still
+clinging to the line.  Another evening, being discomposed by somebody
+coming to the towel-line after he had settled himself, he fluttered off;
+but so sleepy that he had not discretion to poise himself again, and was
+found clinging, like a little bunch of green floss silk, to the mosquito
+netting of the window.
+
+A day after this we brought in a large green bough, and put it up over
+the looking-glass.  Hum noticed it before it had been there five minutes,
+flew to it, and began a regular survey, perching now here, now there,
+till he seemed to find a twig that exactly suited him; and after that he
+roosted there every night.  Who does not see in this change all the signs
+of reflection and reason that are shown by us in thinking over our
+circumstances, and trying to better them?  It seemed to say in so many
+words: “That towel-line is an unsafe place for a bird; I get frightened,
+and wake from bad dreams to find myself head downwards; so I will find a
+better roost on this twig.”
+
+When our little Jenny one day put on a clean white muslin gown
+embellished with red sprigs, Hum flew towards her, and with his bill made
+instant examination of these new appearances; and one day, being very
+affectionately disposed, perched himself on her shoulder, and sat some
+time.  On another occasion, while Mr. A was reading, Hum established
+himself on the top of his head just over the middle of his forehead, in
+the precise place where our young belles have lately worn stuffed
+humming-birds, making him look as if dressed out for a party.  Hum’s most
+favourite perch was the back of the great rocking-chair, which, being
+covered by a tidy, gave some hold into which he could catch his little
+claws.  There he would sit, balancing himself cleverly if its occupant
+chose to swing to and fro, and seeming to be listening to the
+conversation or reading.
+
+Hum had his different moods, like human beings.  On cold, cloudy, gray
+days he appeared to be somewhat depressed in spirits, hummed less about
+the room, and sat humped up with his feathers ruffled, looking as much
+like a bird in a great-coat as possible.  But on hot, sunny days, every
+feather sleeked itself down, and his little body looked natty and trim,
+his head alert, his eyes bright, and it was impossible to come near him,
+for his agility.  Then let mosquitoes and little flies look about them!
+Hum snapped them up without mercy, and seemed to be all over the ceiling
+in a moment, and resisted all our efforts at any personal familiarity
+with a saucy alacrity.
+
+Hum had his established institutions in our room, the chief of which was
+a tumbler with a little sugar and water mixed in it, and a spoon laid
+across, out of which he helped himself whenever he felt in the
+mood—sitting on the edge of the tumbler, and dipping his long bill, and
+lapping with his little forked tongue like a kitten.  When he found his
+spoon accidentally dry, he would stoop over and dip his bill in the water
+in the tumbler; which caused the prophecy on the part of some of his
+guardians that he would fall in some—day and be drowned.  For which
+reason it was agreed to keep only an inch in depth of the fluid at the
+bottom of the tumbler.  A wise precaution this proved; for the next
+morning I was awaked, not by the usual hum over my head, but by a sharp
+little flutter, and found Mr. Hum beating his wings in the tumbler—having
+actually tumbled in during his energetic efforts to get his morning
+coffee before I was awake.
+
+Hum seemed perfectly happy and satisfied in his quarters; but one day,
+when the door was left open, he made a dart out, and so into the open
+sunshine.  Then, to be sure, we thought we had lost him.  We took the
+mosquito netting, out of all the windows, and, setting his tumbler of
+sugar and water in a conspicuous place, went about our usual occupations.
+We saw him joyous and brisk among the honeysuckles outside the window,
+and it was gravely predicted that he would return no more.  But at
+dinner-time in came Hum, familiar as possible, and sat down to his spoon
+as if nothing had happened.  Instantly we closed our windows and had him
+secure once more.
+
+At another time I was going to ride to the Atlantic House, about a mile
+from my boarding-place.  I left all secure, as I supposed, at home.
+While gathering moss on the walls there, I was surprised by a little
+green humming-bird flying familiarly right towards my face and humming
+above my head.  I called out, “Here is Hum’s very brother.”  But, on
+returning home, I saw that the door of the room was open, and Hum was
+gone.  Now certainly we gave him up for lost.  I sat down to painting,
+and in a few minutes in flew Hum, and settled on the edge of my tumbler
+in a social, confidential way, which seemed to say, “Oh, you’ve got back
+then.”  After taking his usual drink of sugar and water, he began to fly
+about the ceiling as usual, and we gladly shut him in.
+
+When our five weeks at the seaside were up, and it was time to go home,
+we had great questionings what was to be done with Hum.  To get him home
+with us was our desire; but who ever heard of a humming-bird travelling
+by railroad?  Great were the consultings.  A little basket of Indian work
+was filled up with cambric handkerchiefs, and a bottle of sugar and water
+provided, and we started with him for a day’s journey.  When we arrived
+at night the first care was to see what had become of Hum, who had not
+been looked at since we fed him with sugar and water in Boston.  We found
+him alive and well, but so dead asleep that we could not wake him to
+roost; so we put him to bed on a toilet cushion, and arranged his tumbler
+for morning.  The next day found him alive and humming, exploring the
+room and pictures, perching now here and now there; but as the weather
+was chilly, he sat for the most part of the time in a humped-up state on
+the tip of a pair of stag’s horns.  We moved him to a more sunny
+apartment; but, alas! the equinoctial storm came on, and there was no sun
+to be had for days.  Hum was blue; the pleasant seaside days were over;
+his room was lonely, the pleasant three that had enlivened the apartment
+at Rye no longer came in and out; evidently he was lonesome, and gave way
+to depression.  One chilly morning he managed again to fall into his
+tumbler, and wet himself through; and notwithstanding warm bathings and
+tender nursings, the poor little fellow seemed to get diphtheria, or
+something quite as bad for humming-birds.
+
+We carried him to a neighbouring sunny parlour, where ivy embowers all
+the walls and the sun lies all day.  There he revived a little, danced up
+and down, perched on a green spray that was wreathed across the breast of
+a Psyche, and looked then like a little flitting soul returning to its
+rest.  Towards evening he drooped; and, having been nursed and warmed and
+cared for, he was put to sleep on a green twig laid on the piano.  In
+that sleep the little head drooped—nodded—fell; and little Hum went where
+other bright dreams go—to the Land of the Hereafter.
+
+
+
+
+_OUR COUNTRY NEIGHBOURS_.
+
+
+WE have just built our house in rather an out-of-the-way place—on the
+bank of a river, and under the shade of a patch of woods which is a
+veritable remain of quite an ancient forest.  The checkerberry and
+partridge-plum, with their glossy green leaves and scarlet berries, still
+carpet the ground under its deep shadows; and prince’s-pine and other
+kindred evergreens declare its native wildness,—for these are children of
+the wild woods, that never come after plough and harrow have once broken
+a soil.
+
+When we tried to look out the spot for our house, we had to get a
+surveyor to go before us and cut a path through the dense underbrush that
+was laced together in a general network of boughs and leaves, and grew so
+high as to overtop our heads.  Where the house stands, four or five great
+old oaks and chestnuts had to be cut away to let it in; and now it stands
+on the bank of the river, the edges of which are still overhung with old
+forest-trees, chestnuts and oaks, which look at themselves in the glassy
+stream.
+
+A little knoll near the house was chosen for a garden-spot; a dense, dark
+mass of trees above, of bushes in mid-air, and of all sorts of ferns and
+wild-flowers and creeping vines on the ground.  All these had to be
+cleared out, and a dozen great trees cut down and dragged off to a
+neighbouring saw-mill, there to be transformed into boards to finish off
+our house.  Then, fetching a great machine, such as might be used to pull
+a giant’s teeth, with ropes, pulleys, oxen, and men, and might and main,
+we pulled out the stumps, with their great prongs and their network of
+roots and fibres; and then, alas! we had to begin with all the pretty
+wild, lovely bushes, and the checkerberries and ferns and wild
+blackberries and huckleberry-bushes, and dig them up remorselessly, that
+we might plant our corn and squashes.  And so we got a house and a garden
+right out of the heart of our piece of wild wood, about a mile from the
+city of H-.
+
+Well, then, people said it was a lonely place, and far from
+neighbours,—by which they meant that it was a good way for them to come
+to see us.  But we soon found that whoever goes into the woods to live
+finds neighbours of a new kind, and some to whom it is rather hard to
+become accustomed.
+
+For instance, on a fine day early in April, as we were crossing over to
+superintend the building of our house, we were startled by a striped
+snake, with his little bright eyes, raising himself to look at us, and
+putting out his red, forked tongue.  Now there is no more harm in these
+little garden-snakes than there is in a robin or a squirrel—they are poor
+little, peaceable, timid creatures, which could not do any harm if they
+would; but the prejudices of society are so strong against them that one
+does not like to cultivate too much intimacy with them.  So we tried to
+turn out of our path into a tangle of bushes; and there, instead of one,
+we found four snakes.  We turned on the other side, and there were two
+more.  In short, everywhere we looked, the dry leaves were rustling and
+coiling with them; and we were in despair.  In vain we said that they
+were harmless as kittens, and tried to persuade ourselves that their
+little bright eyes were pretty, and that their serpentine movements were
+in the exact line of beauty: for the life of us, we could not help
+remembering their family name and connections; we thought of those
+disagreeable gentlemen the anacondas, the rattlesnakes, and the
+copper-heads, and all of that bad line, immediate family friends of the
+old serpent to whom we are indebted for all the mischief that is done in
+this world.  So we were quite apprehensive when we saw how our new
+neighbourhood was infested by them, until a neighbour calmed our fears by
+telling us that snakes always crawled out of their holes to sun
+themselves in the spring, and that in a day or two they would all be
+gone.
+
+So it proved.  It was evident they were all out merely to do their spring
+shopping, or something that serves with them the same purpose that spring
+shopping does with us; and where they went afterwards we do not know.
+People speak of snakes’ holes, and we have seen them disappearing into
+such subterranean chambers; but we never opened one to see what sort of
+underground housekeeping went on there.  After the first few days of
+spring, a snake was a rare visitor, though now and then one appeared.
+
+One was discovered taking his noontide repast one day in a manner which
+excited much prejudice.  He was, in fact, regaling himself by sucking
+down into his maw a small frog, which he had begun to swallow at the
+toes, and had drawn about half down.  The frog, it must be confessed,
+seemed to view this arrangement with great indifference, making no
+struggle, and sitting solemnly, with his great unwinking eyes, to be
+sucked in at the leisure of his captor.  There was immense sympathy,
+however, excited for him in the family circle; and it was voted that a
+snake which indulged in such very disagreeable modes of eating his dinner
+was not to be tolerated in our vicinity.  So I have reason to believe
+that that was his last meal.
+
+Another of our wild woodland neighbours made us some trouble.  It was no
+other than a veritable woodchuck, whose hole we had often wondered at
+when we were scrambling through the underbrush after spring flowers.  The
+hole was about the size of a peck-measure, and had two openings about six
+feet apart.  The occupant was a gentleman we never had had the pleasure
+of seeing, but we soon learned his existence from his ravages in our
+garden.  He had a taste, it appears, for the very kind of things we
+wanted to eat ourselves, and helped himself without asking.  We had a row
+of fine, crisp heads of lettuce, which were the pride of our gardening,
+and out of which he would from day to day select for his table just the
+plants we had marked for ours.  He also nibbled our young beans; and so
+at last we were reluctantly obliged to let John Gardiner set a trap for
+him.  Poor old simple-minded hermit, he was too artless for this world!
+He was caught at the very first snap, and found dead in the trap,—the
+agitation and distress having broken his poor woodland heart, and killed
+him.  We were grieved to the very soul when the poor fat old fellow was
+dragged out, with his useless paws standing up stiff and imploring.  As
+it was, he was given to Denis, our pig, which, without a single scruple
+of delicacy, ate him up as thoroughly as he ate up the lettuce.
+
+This business of eating, it appears, must go on all through creation.  We
+eat ducks, turkeys, and chickens, though we don’t swallow them whole,
+feathers and all.  Our four-footed friends, less civilized, take things
+with more directness and simplicity, and chew each other up without
+ceremony, or swallow each other alive.  Of these unceremonious habits we
+had other instances.
+
+Our house had a central court on the southern side, into which looked the
+library, dining-room, and front hall, as well as several of the upper
+chambers.  It was designed to be closed in with glass, to serve as a
+conservatory in winter; and meanwhile we had filled it with splendid
+plumy ferns, taken up out of the neighbouring wood.  In the centre was a
+fountain surrounded by stones, shells, mosses, and various water-plants.
+We had bought three little goldfish to swim in our basin; and the spray
+of it, as it rose in the air and rippled back into the water, was the
+pleasantest possible sound of a hot day.  We used to lie on the sofa in
+the hall, and look into the court, and fancy we saw some scene of
+fairy-land, and water-sprites coming up from the fountain.  Suddenly a
+new-comer presented himself,—no other than an immense bull-frog, that had
+hopped up from the neighbouring river, apparently with a view to making a
+permanent settlement in and about our fountain.  He was to be seen, often
+for hours, sitting reflectively on the edge of it, beneath the broad
+shadow of the calla-leaves.  When sometimes missed thence, he would be
+found under the ample shield of a great bignonia, whose striped leaves
+grew hard by.
+
+The family were prejudiced against him.  What did he want there?  It was
+surely some sinister motive impelled him.  He was probably watching for
+an opportunity to gobble up the goldfish.  We took his part, however, and
+strenuously defended his moral character, and patronized him in all ways.
+We gave him the name of Unke, and maintained that he was a
+well-conducted, philosophical old water-sprite, who showed his good taste
+in wanting to take up his abode in our conservatory.  We even defended
+his personal appearance, praised the invisible-green coat which he wore
+on his back, and his gray vest, and solemn gold spectacles; and though he
+always felt remarkably slimy when we touched him, yet, as he would sit
+still and allow us to stroke his head and pat his back, we concluded his
+social feelings might be warm, notwithstanding a cold exterior.  Who
+knew, after all, but he might be a beautiful young prince, enchanted
+there till the princess should come to drop the golden ball into the
+fountain, and so give him a chance to marry her and turn into a man
+again?  Such things, we are credibly informed, are matters of frequent
+occurrence in Germany.  Why not here?
+
+By-and-by there came to our fountain another visitor,—a frisky, green
+young frog of the identical kind spoken of by the poet:—
+
+    “There was a frog lived in a well,
+    Rig dum pully metakimo.”
+
+This thoughtless, dapper individual, with his bright green coat, his
+faultless white vest, and sea-green tights, became rather the popular
+favourite.  He seemed just rakish and gallant enough to fulfil the
+conditions of the song:—
+
+    “The frog he would a-courting ride,
+    With sword and pistol by his side.”
+
+This lively young fellow, whom we shall call Cri-Cri, like other frisky
+and gay young people, carried the day quite over the head of the solemn
+old philosopher under the calla-leaves.  At night, when all was still, he
+would trill a joyous little note in his throat, while old Unke would
+answer only with a cracked guttural more singular than agreeable; and to
+all outward appearance the two were as good friends as their different
+natures would allow.
+
+One day, however, the conservatory became the scene of a tragedy of the
+deepest dye.  We were summoned below by shrieks and howls of horror.  “Do
+pray come down and see what this vile, nasty, horrid old frog has been
+doing!”  Down we came; and there sat our virtuous old philosopher, with
+his poor little brother’s hind legs still sticking out of the corner of
+his mouth, as if he were smoking them for a cigar, all helplessly
+palpitating as they were.  In fact, our solemn old friend had done what
+many a solemn hypocrite before has done,—swallowed his poor brother, neck
+and crop,—and sat there with the most brazen indifference, looking as if
+he had done the most proper and virtuous thing in the world.
+
+Immediately he was marched out of the conservatory at the point of a
+walking-stick, and made to hop down to the river, into whose waters he
+splashed, and we saw him no more.  We regret to say that the popular
+indignation was so precipitate in its results; otherwise the special
+artist who sketched Hum, the son of Buz, intended to have made a sketch
+of the old villain, as he sat with his luckless victim’s hind legs
+projecting from his solemn mouth.  With all his moral faults, he was a
+good sitter, and would probably have sat immovable any length of time
+that could be desired.
+
+Of other woodland neighbours there were some which we saw occasionally.
+The shores of the river were lined here and there with the holes of the
+muskrats; and in rowing by their settlements, we were sometimes strongly
+reminded of them by the overpowering odour of the perfume from which they
+get their name.  There were also owls, whose nests were high up in some
+of the old chestnut-trees.  Often in the lonely hours of the night we
+could hear them gibbering with a sort of wild, hollow laugh among the
+distant trees.  But one tenant of the woods made us some trouble in the
+autumn.  It was a little flying-squirrel, who took to making excursions
+into our house in the night season, coming down the chimney into the
+chambers, rustling about among the clothes, cracking nuts or nibbling at
+any morsels of anything that suited his fancy.  For a long time the
+inmates of the rooms were awakened in the night by mysterious noises,
+thumps, and rappings, and so lighted candles, and searched in vain to
+find whence they came; for the moment any movement was made, the rogue
+whipped up the chimney, and left us a prey to the most mysterious alarms.
+What could it be?
+
+But one night our fine gentleman bounced in at the window of another
+room, which had no fireplace; and the fair occupant, rising in the night,
+shut the window, without suspecting that she had cut off the retreat of
+any of her woodland neighbours.  The next morning she was startled by
+what she thought a gray rat running past her bed.  She rose to pursue
+him, when he ran up the wall, and clung against the plastering, showing
+himself very plainly a gray flying-squirrel, with large, soft eyes, and
+wings which consisted of a membrane uniting the fore paws to the hind
+ones, like those of a bat.  He was chased into the conservatory, and a
+window being opened, out he flew upon the ground, and made away for his
+native woods, and thus put an end to many fears as to the nature of our
+nocturnal rappings.
+
+So you see how many neighbours we found by living in the woods, and,
+after all, no worse ones than are found in the great world.
+
+
+
+
+_THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF LITTLE WHISKEY_.
+
+
+AND now, at the last, I am going to tell you something of the ways and
+doings of one of the queer little people, whom I shall call Whiskey.
+
+You cannot imagine how pretty he is.  His back has the most beautiful
+smooth shining stripes of reddish brown and black, his eyes shine like
+bright glass beads, and he sits up jauntily on his hind quarters, with
+his little tail thrown over his back like a ruffle.
+
+And where does he live?  Well, “that is telling,” as we children say.  It
+was somewhere up in the mountains of Berkshire, in a queer, quaint,
+old-fashioned garden, that I made Mr. Whiskey’s acquaintance.
+
+Here there lives a young parson, who preaches every Sunday in a little
+brown church, and during week-days goes through all these hills and
+valleys, visiting the poor, and gathering children into Sunday schools.
+
+His wife is a very small-sized lady—not much bigger than you, my little
+Mary—but very fond of all sorts of dumb animals; and by constantly
+watching their actions and ways, she has come to have quite a strange
+power over them, as I shall relate.
+
+The little lady fixed her mind on Whiskey, and gave him his name without
+consulting him upon the subject.  She admired his bright eyes, and
+resolved to cultivate his acquaintance.
+
+By constant watching, she discovered that he had a small hole of his own
+in the grass-plot a few paces from her back-door.  So she used to fill
+her pocket with hazel-nuts, and go out and sit in the back porch, and
+make a little noise, such as squirrels make to each other, to attract his
+attention.
+
+In a minute or two up would pop the little head with the bright eyes, in
+the grass-plot, and Master Whiskey would sit on his haunches and listen,
+with one small ear cocked towards her.  Then she would throw him a
+hazel-nut, and he would slip instantly down into his hole again.  In a
+minute or two, however, his curiosity would get the better of his
+prudence; and she, sitting quiet, would see the little brown-striped head
+slowly, slowly coming up again, over the tiny green spikes of the
+grass-plot.  Quick as a flash he would dart at the nut, whisk it into a
+little bag on one side of his jaws, which Madam Nature has furnished him
+with for his provision-pouch, and down into his hole again.  An
+ungrateful, suspicious little brute he was too; for though in this way he
+bagged and carried off nut after nut, until the patient little woman had
+used up a pound of hazel-nuts, still he seemed to have the same wild
+fright at sight of her, and would whisk off and hide himself in his hole
+the moment she appeared.  In vain she called, “Whiskey, Whiskey,
+Whiskey,” in the most flattering tones; in vain she coaxed and cajoled.
+No, no; he was not to be caught napping.  He had no objection to
+accepting her nuts, as many as she chose to throw to him; but as to her
+taking any personal liberty with him, you see, it was by no means to be
+thought of.
+
+But at last patience and perseverance began to have their reward.  Little
+Master Whiskey said to himself, “Surely this is a nice, kind lady, to
+take so much pains to give me nuts; she is certainly very considerate;”
+and with that he edged a little nearer and nearer every day, until, quite
+to the delight of the small lady, he would come and climb into her lap
+and seize the nuts, when she rattled them there, and after that he seemed
+to make exploring voyages all over her person.  He would climb up and sit
+on her shoulder; he would mount and perch himself on her head; and when
+she held a nut for him between her teeth, he would take it out of her
+mouth.
+
+After a while he began to make tours of discovery in the house.  He would
+suddenly appear on the minister’s writing-table when he was composing his
+Sunday sermon, and sit cocking his little pert head at him, seeming to
+wonder what he was about.  But in all his explorations he proved himself
+a true Yankee squirrel, having always a shrewd eye on the main chance.
+If the parson dropped a nut on the floor, down went Whiskey after it, and
+into his provision-bag it went, and then he would look up as if he
+expected another; for he had a wallet on each side of his jaws, and he
+always wanted both sides handsomely filled before he made for his hole.
+So busy and active and always intent on this one object was he, that
+before long the little lady found he had made way with six pounds of
+hazel-nuts.  His general rule was to carry off four nuts at a time—three
+being stuffed into the side-pockets of his jaws, and the fourth held in
+his teeth.  When he had furnished himself in this way, he would dart like
+lightning for his hole, and disappear in a moment; but in a short time up
+he would come, brisk and wide-awake, and ready for the next supply.
+
+Once a person who had the curiosity to dig open a chipping squirrel’s
+hole found in it two quarts of buckwheat, a quantity of grass-seed,
+nearly a peck of acorns, some Indian corn, and a quart of walnuts; a
+pretty handsome supply for a squirrel’s winter store-room—don’t you think
+so?
+
+Whiskey learned in time to work for his living in many artful ways that
+his young mistress devised.  Sometimes she would tie his nuts up in a
+paper package, which he would attack with great energy, gnawing the
+strings, and rustling the nuts out of the paper in wonderfully quick
+time.  Sometimes she would tie a nut to the end of a bit of twine and
+swing it backward and forward over his head; and after a succession of
+spry jumps, he would pounce upon it, and hang swinging on the twine, till
+he had gnawed the nut away.
+
+Another squirrel, doubtless hearing of Whiskey’s good luck, began to
+haunt the same yard; but Whiskey would by no means allow him to cultivate
+his young mistress’s acquaintance.  No indeed! he evidently considered
+that the institution would not support two.  Sometimes he would appear to
+be conversing with the stranger on the most familiar and amicable terms
+in the back-yard; but if his mistress called his name, he would
+immediately start and chase his companion quite out of sight, before he
+came back to her.
+
+So you see that self-seeking is not confined to men alone, and that
+Whiskey’s fine little fur coat covers a very selfish heart.
+
+As winter comes on, Whiskey will go down into his hole, which has many
+long galleries and winding passages, and a snug little bedroom well lined
+with leaves.  Here he will doze and dream away his long winter months,
+and nibble out the inside of his store of nuts.
+
+If I hear any more of his cunning tricks, I will tell you of them.
+
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEER LITTLE FOLKS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 2486-0.txt or 2486-0.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/8/2486
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
+be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
+law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
+so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
+States without permission and without paying copyright
+royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
+of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
+concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
+and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive
+specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this
+eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook
+for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports,
+performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given
+away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks
+not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the
+trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.
+
+START: FULL LICENSE
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
+Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
+www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+
+1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
+destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your
+possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
+Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
+by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
+person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph
+1.E.8.
+
+1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
+paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this
+agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
+Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
+of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual
+works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
+States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
+United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
+claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
+displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
+all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
+that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting
+free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm
+works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
+Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily
+comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
+same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when
+you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
+in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
+check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
+agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
+distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
+other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no
+representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
+country outside the United States.
+
+1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
+immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear
+prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work
+on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,
+performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
+
+  This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+  most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
+  restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
+  under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
+  eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
+  United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you
+  are located before using this ebook.
+
+1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is
+derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
+contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
+copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
+the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
+redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
+either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
+obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm
+trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
+additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
+will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works
+posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
+beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
+any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
+to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format
+other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official
+version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site
+(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
+to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
+of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain
+Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the
+full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+provided that
+
+* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+  the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+  you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
+  to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has
+  agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
+  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
+  within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
+  legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
+  payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
+  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
+  Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
+  Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+  you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+  does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+  License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
+  copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
+  all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm
+  works.
+
+* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
+  any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+  electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
+  receipt of the work.
+
+* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+  distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than
+are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
+from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The
+Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
+Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
+contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
+or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
+intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
+other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
+cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
+with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
+with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
+lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
+or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
+opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
+the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
+without further opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO
+OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
+LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
+damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
+violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
+agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
+limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
+unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
+remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in
+accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
+production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
+including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
+the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
+or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or
+additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any
+Defect you cause.
+
+Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
+computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
+exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
+from people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future
+generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
+Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
+www.gutenberg.org 
+
+Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary 
+Archive Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
+U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the
+mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its
+volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous
+locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt
+Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to
+date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and
+official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+
+    Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+    Chief Executive and Director
+    gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
+DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular
+state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
+donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be
+freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
+distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of
+volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
+the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
+necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
+edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search
+facility: www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+