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diff --git a/2486-h/2486-h.htm b/2486-h/2486-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e1a026 --- /dev/null +++ b/2486-h/2486-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2920 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Queer Little Folks, by Harriet Beecher Stowe</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +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: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEER LITTLE FOLKS*** +</pre> +<p>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.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/coverb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" + src="images/covers.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>QUEER<br /> +LITTLE FOLKS</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>By</i><br /> +<i>HARRIET BEECHER STOWE</i></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">With +Illustrations</span></p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><b>London</b>:<br /> +T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">1897</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2>Contents.</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>Hen that Hatched Ducks</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page11">11</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Nutcrackers of Nutcracker Lodge</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page29">29</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The History of Tip-Top</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page43">43</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Miss Katy-Did and Miss Cricket</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page61">61</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Mother Magpie’s Mischief</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page70">70</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Squirrels that live in a House</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page80">80</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Hum, the Son of Buz</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page93">93</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Our Country Neighbours</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page106">106</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Diverting History of Little Whiskey</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page117">117</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2>List of Illustrations.</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>The Brood Hatched</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image19">19</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Feeding the Fame Robin</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image59">59</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Erecting the Hen-House</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image15">15</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Hen that Hatched Ducks</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image25">25</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Enemies in Waiting</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image39">39</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Nest in the Apple-Tree</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image47">47</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tip-Top in bad Company</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image57">57</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Venturous Squirrels</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image89">89</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span><i>HEN +THAT HATCHED DUCKS</i>.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A STORY.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> 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.</p> +<p>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; <i>that</i> 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 <i>that</i> +fine piece of trumpery, with her white feathers tipped with gray, +never will come down to family life. <i>She</i> 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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>did</i> 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.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image15" href="images/p15b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Erecting the Hen-House" +title= +"Erecting the Hen-House" + src="images/p15s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“Yes; but I’ve bought <i>hens</i>, you see,” +said Freddy; “so it’s no use trying.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Bless my soul,” said he, “you’ve no +idea how cross my wife is.”</p> +<p>“O you horrid creature!” said Mrs. Red Comb. +“How little you feel for the weaknesses of us poor +hens!”</p> +<p>“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—”</p> +<p>“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,—</p> +<p>“Look how Mr. Gray Cock is flirting with that +widow. I always knew she was a baggage.”</p> +<p>“And his poor wife left at home alone,” said Goody +Kertarkut. “It’s the way with ’em +all!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Poor thing! what’ll she do with a family?” +said Goody Kertarkut.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image19" href="images/p19b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Brood Hatched" +title= +"The Brood Hatched" + src="images/p19s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Let’s see the chicks,” said Dame +Scratchard.</p> +<p>“Goodness me,” said Goody Kertarkut, “what a +likeness to their dear papa!”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“What shall I do?” said Mrs. Feathertop, now +greatly alarmed.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>Dr. Peppercorn came in, and put on a monstrous pair of +spectacles, and said, “Hum! ha! extraordinary case; very +singular.”</p> +<p>“Did you ever see anything like it, doctor?” said +both parents in a breath.</p> +<p>“I’ve read of such cases. It’s a +calcareous enlargement of the vascular bony tissue, threatening +ossification,” said the doctor.</p> +<p>“Oh, dreadful! Can it be possible?” shrieked +both parents. “Can anything be done?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Dear me, doctor, I don’t know what I <i>shall</i> +do, for they seem to have a particular fancy for getting into +water.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“You’ll wear me out, children, you certainly +will,” said poor Mrs. Feathertop.</p> +<p>“You’ll go to destruction, do ye hear?” said +Master Gray Cock.</p> +<p>“Did you ever see such frights as poor Mrs. Feathertop +has got?” said Dame Scratchard. “I knew what +would come of <i>her</i> family—all deformed, and with a +dreadful sort of madness which makes them love to shovel mud with +those shocking spoon-bills of theirs.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>Mrs. Feathertop rose up out of her swoon, and Mr. Gray Cock +was greatly enraged.</p> +<p>“What do you mean, sir, by such behaviour in the house +of mourning?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image25" href="images/p25b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Hen that Hatched Ducks" +title= +"The Hen that Hatched Ducks" + src="images/p25s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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!”</p> +<h2><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 29</span><i>THE +NUTCRACKERS OF NUTCRACKER LODGE</i>.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr</span>. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Depend upon it, my dear,” said Mrs. Nutcracker +solemnly, “that fellow must be a genius.”</p> +<p>“Fiddlestick on his genius!” said old Mr. +Nutcracker; “what does he <i>do</i>?”</p> +<p>“Oh, nothing, of course; that’s one of the first +marks of genius. Geniuses, you know, never can come down to +common life.”</p> +<p>“He eats enough for any two,” remarked old +Nutcracker, “and he never helps to gather nuts.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t doubt that Tip is <i>good</i> +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!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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 +<i>were</i> 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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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—”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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>I</i> +step into property at once.”</p> +<p>“But I hope, my son, you are careful to be honest in +your dealings,” said old Nutcracker, who was a very moral +squirrel.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image39" href="images/p39b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Enemies in waiting" +title= +"Enemies in waiting" + src="images/p39s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Featherhead tried to slink out at the hole he had gnawed to +come in by, but found it stopped.</p> +<p>“Oh, you are there, are you, mister?” said the +boy. “Well, you don’t get out; and now for a +chase!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2><a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span><i>THE +HISTORY OF TIP-TOP</i>.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Under</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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!</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image47" href="images/p47b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Nest in the Apple-Tree" +title= +"The Nest in the Apple-Tree" + src="images/p47s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>“How long, long, long she waits!” said Jamie +impatiently. “I don’t believe she’s ever +going to hatch.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>Upon this they all cried out, “O mamma, <i>do</i> 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.</p> +<p>“They are dreadful-looking things,” said Mary; +“I didn’t know that little birds began by looking so +badly.”</p> +<p>“They seem to be all mouth,” said Jamie.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“I’m going to give my robin a name,” said +Mary. “I call him Brown-Eyes.”</p> +<p>“And I call mine Tip-Top,” said Jamie, +“because I know he’ll be a tip-top bird.”</p> +<p>“And I call mine Singer,” said Alice.</p> +<p>“I ’all mine Toddy,” said little Toddlie, +who would not be behindhand in anything that was going on.</p> +<p>“Hurrah for Toddlie!” said Charlie; “hers is +the best of all. For my part, I call mine +Speckle.”</p> +<p>So then the birds were all made separate characters by having +each a separate name given it.</p> +<p>Brown-Eyes, Tip-Top, Singer, Toddy, and Speckle made, as they +grew bigger, a very crowded nestful of birds.</p> +<p>Now the children had early been taught to say in a little +hymn:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Birds in their little nests agree;<br /> + And ’tis a shameful sight<br /> +When children of one family<br /> + Fall out, and chide, and fight;”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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 <i>their</i> little birds in their nest did +<i>not</i> agree.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>On the whole Mr. and Mrs. Robin did not find their family +circle the peaceable place the poet represents.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“My dear boy,” said Mother Robin, “we shall +teach you to fly as soon as your wings are strong +enough.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Shut up your preaching,” said Tip-Top; +“what do you girls know of flying?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“O my darlings,” said their mamma, now fluttering +home, “cannot I ever teach you to live in love?”</p> +<p>“It’s all Tip-Top’s fault,” screamed +the other birds in a flutter.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Who wants your place?” said Speckle. +“I’m sure you can come in, if you please.”</p> +<p>“My dear boy,” said the mother, “do go into +the nest and be a good little bird, and then you will be +happy.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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 <i>that</i> story; mother is chaffing me. +But I’ll show her that I can take care of +myself.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“Only look at her!” said Tip-Top; “her eyes +are like gold.”</p> +<p>“No, don’t look,” said Singer and +Speckle. “She will bewitch you, and then eat you +up.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“Her paws are as white as velvet,” said Tip-Top, +“and so soft! I don’t believe she has any +claws.”</p> +<p>“Don’t go, brother, don’t!” screamed +both sisters.</p> +<p>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!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image57" href="images/p57b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Tip-Top in bad Company" +title= +"Tip-Top in bad Company" + src="images/p57s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Oh, what <i>shall</i> we do for him? He will +die. Poor Tip-Top!” said the children.</p> +<p>“Let’s put him back into the nest, +children,” said mamma. “His mother will know +best what to do with him.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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, <i>as</i> 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.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image59" href="images/p59b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Feeding the lame Robin" +title= +"Feeding the lame Robin" + src="images/p59s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Jamie’s mother told him that Tip-Top’s history was +an allegory.</p> +<p>“I don’t know what you mean, mamma,” said +Jamie.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<h2><a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +61</span><i>MISS KATY-DID AND MISS CRICKET</i>.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Miss Katy-did</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“My dear, you make me the happiest of +Katy-dids.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Yes, we must have the Fireflies,” echoed the +colonel.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Whatever could give the old lady such a turn?” +said Miss Katy. “I thought she never was +sick.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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—”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“The Bees are a worthy family,” said the +colonel.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, there are the Bumble-Bees.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I dote on them! General Bumble is one of the +most dashing, brilliant fellows of the day.”</p> +<p>“I think he is shockingly corpulent,” said Colonel +Katy-did, not at all pleased to hear him praised; +“don’t you?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know but he <i>is</i> a little +stout,” said Miss Katy; “but so distinguished and +elegant in his manners—something quite martial and breezy +about him.”</p> +<p>“Well, if you invite the Bumble-Bees, you must have the +Hornets.”</p> +<p>“Those spiteful Hornets! I detest them!”</p> +<p>“Nevertheless, dear Miss Katy, one does not like to +offend the Hornets.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“How about the Mosquitoes!” said the colonel.</p> +<p>“Those horrid Mosquitoes—they are dreadfully +plebeian! Can’t one cut them?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And so I suppose we must have his old aunts, and all +six of his sisters, and all his dreadfully common +relations.”</p> +<p>“It is a pity,” said the colonel; “but one +must pay one’s tax to society.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Well, they are in great trouble; all their stores +destroyed, and their father killed—cut quite in two by a +hoe.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“Pray, shall you invite the Crickets?” said +Colonel Katy-did.</p> +<p>“Who? I? Why, colonel, what a +question! Invite the Crickets? Of what can you be +thinking?”</p> +<p>“And shall you not ask the Locusts, and the +Grasshoppers?”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“I thought they were nice, respectable +people.”</p> +<p>“Oh, perfectly nice and respectable,—very good +people, in fact, so far as that goes. But then you must see +the difficulty.”</p> +<p>“My dear cousin, I am afraid you must +explain.”</p> +<p>“Why, their <i>colour</i>, to be sure. Don’t +you see?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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 <i>colour</i>, because that is clearly a thing that none has +any hand in but our Maker. You see?”</p> +<p>“Yes; but who decides what colour shall be the reigning +colour?”</p> +<p>“I’m surprised to hear the question! The +only true colour—the only proper one—is <i>our</i> +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?”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, I see exactly,” said the colonel.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Cheep, cheep, cheep!” little Freddy would +say. “Mamma, who is it says +‘cheep’?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2><a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +70</span><i>MOTHER MAGPIE’S MISCHIEF</i>.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Old</span> 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.</p> +<p>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 +<i>gratis</i> at every bird and beast of the woods.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“But, my dear,” piped Mrs. Oriole timidly, +“the Orioles always have built in this manner, and it suits +our constitution.”</p> +<p>“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.’”</p> +<p>“But my husband prefers this style of +building.”</p> +<p>“That’s only because he isn’t properly +instructed. Pray, did you ever attend Dr. Kite’s +lectures on the nervous system?”</p> +<p>“No, I have no time to attend lectures. Who would +sit on the eggs?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“O Mrs. Magpie, pray don’t speak to my husband; he +will think I’ve been complaining.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“I say, my dear, if you will persist in gossiping over +our private family matters with that old Mother +Magpie—”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“But you must <i>cut</i> her.”</p> +<p>“I try to, all I can; but she won’t <i>be</i> +cut.”</p> +<p>“It’s enough to make a bird swear,” said +Tommy Oriole.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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>I</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.”</p> +<p>“I really don’t understand you, +ma’am,” said poor Dr. Bullfrog.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Madam,” said Dr. Bullfrog, with all that energy +of tone for which he was remarkable, “I don’t believe +it,—I <i>can’t</i> believe it. You must have +made a mistake.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Bless me, we shall all be ruined!” said Mrs. +Bullfrog; “my poor husband—”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Dear madam, consider my voice. I never could hit +the high notes.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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, <i>thump</i> came a great blow of +a hoe, which nearly broke his back.</p> +<p>“Hallo! what ugly beast have we got here?” said +Tom Noakes, the gardener’s boy. “Here, here, +Wasp, my boy.”</p> +<p>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 <i>Old Mother Mischief</i>.</p> +<h2><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 80</span><i>THE +SQUIRRELS THAT LIVE IN A HOUSE</i>.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Crickets’ +Gazette</i>, 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.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image89" href="images/p89b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Venturous Squirrels" +title= +"Venturous Squirrels" + src="images/p89s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +93</span><i>HUM</i>, <i>THE SON OF BUZ</i>.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">At</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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:—</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2><a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +106</span><i>OUR COUNTRY NEIGHBOURS</i>.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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-.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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?</p> +<p>By-and-by there came to our fountain another visitor,—a +frisky, green young frog of the identical kind spoken of by the +poet:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“There was a frog lived in a well,<br /> +Rig dum pully metakimo.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“The frog he would a-courting ride,<br /> +With sword and pistol by his side.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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?</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +117</span><i>THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF LITTLE WHISKEY</i>.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">And</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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?</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>If I hear any more of his cunning tricks, I will tell you of +them.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEER LITTLE FOLKS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 2486-h.htm or 2486-h.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. 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