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