Chapter 2

"'I'll have him sure,' Mr. Bear said to himself, 'for when he pulls up the bucket in the morning, I'll jump out and grab him, so he can't get away.'

"Well, Tommy went to the well at just about the same time as usual, and when he started to raise the bucket with the windlass, he found it was terribly heavy. He thought some one must have been putting rocks in it to play a joke on him, so he kept on turning the crank around until the bucket was nearly to the top, and then he saw what was the matter:

"'My goodness!' he cried. 'There's Mr. Bear, and it's water I'm after, not bear!'

"Then Tommy Man let go of the windlass, and of course down went Mr. Bear to the bottom of the well with a bump that nearly shook him to pieces.

"Now almost anybody might have thought that Tommy would run away after that; but no, he made up his mind to serve Mr. Bear out good and hard, so he went to work winding up the windlass again. Then, when he had hauled Mr. Bear nearly to the top, he let him go back with a worse bump than before, and so he kept on doing this same thing thirteen or fifteen times, until Mr. Bear was so sore and bruised that he couldn't do much of anything more than hold himself on to the edge of the bucket.

"By that time Tommy had got all the sport he wanted, and he let Mr. Bear crawl out of the bucket. I have heard it said that it was more than two weeks before the old fellow could get out of bed, and the lesson did him as much good as the one Mr. Donkey gave the Wild Hog, for he wasn't quarrelsome again, and behaved himself decently well forever after."

MR. DONKEY'S LESSON IN GOOD MANNERS.

"I think the story about the donkey must be one which I have never heard," your Aunt Amy said. "Although the animals on the farm have told me quite a lot about Mr. Donkey, I have never thought of him as a teacher.

"It isn't what you might rightly call a story; but only something that happened when Mr. Donkey showed his good sense. Now I don't understand why Mr. Man tells about any one being as stupid as a donkey. Why, our Neddy is as wise as anybody on this farm, and you will think so when I have told this story about him.

"It was one night after supper, and he thought he would take a stroll up the road, because he hadn't been working very hard that day, and the exercise might do him good. He was going along, minding his own business, when Mr. Wild Hog came out from the bushes, and into the road.

"Mr. Donkey stepped over one side so as to give him plenty of room, saying 'good evening' politely, and was walking on when Mr. Wild Hog bristled up to him, showing both his big tusks, and said:

"'Why don't you turn out when you meet anybody of consequence?'

"'Perhaps I do when I meet them,' Mr. Donkey replied, and that made Mr. Hog terribly angry. "'Do you know I have a mind to give you a lesson in good manners?' growled Mr. Hog, and Mr. Donkey said with a grin:

"'Why not go off somewhere alone, and give yourself a lesson or two?'

"Of course that made Mr. Hog more angry than ever, and he said:

"'Do you know what I do when stupid animals like you try to be too smart?'

"'No; I don't care either,' Mr. Donkey replied; 'but I will show you what I do when animals make bigger hogs of themselves than is natural.'

"Just as he said this he turned around, swung up both heels, struck Mr. Hog under the chin, and knocked him over and over as many as six times. Then Mr. Donkey trotted off slowly, with a smile on his face that was for all the world like Mr. Crocodile's after he had been to the dentist's."

WHEN MR. CROCODILE HAD HIS TEETH EXTRACTED.

"Why did he go to the dentist?" your Aunt Amy asked, thinking to hear another story.

"I had better repeat the poetry Mr. Crow wrote about it, for that tells the whole story, and without further delay Mrs. Mouser Cat recited the following:

Come, listen, and I'll sing awhile About a winsome crocodile, Who had a most engaging smile Whene'er he smole.

His basket with fresh fish to fill Each day he'd tramp o'er vale and hill, For he possessed quite wondrous skill With rod and pole.

But as he fished, one summer's day, A toothache chased his smiles away; No longer could he fish and play His favorite role.

He stamped and growled, the pain was vile, No more he grinned, Sir Crocodile, (And he'd a most engaging smile Whene'er he smole.)

So straight he to the dentist went, On stopping or extraction bent, His soul was with such anguish rent; He reached his goal.

"Come sit down in the chair awhile; Open your mouth, Sir Crocodile!" (He had a most engaging smile Whene'er he smole.)

"Which is the tooth?" the dentist said; "Dear, dear! You must have suffered-- You've not a sound tooth in your head, Not one that's whole!"

He pulled them out; it took some while, And then that toothsome crocodile Had not quite such a pleasing smile Whene'er he smole.

"How do you suppose Mr. Crocodile felt when he was hungry, and wanted to eat something?" your Aunt Amy asked.

THE DISSATISFIED CAT.

"Most likely much the same as did old Mrs. Pussy Cat up on the next farm."

"How was that?" your Aunt Amy asked.

"Well, you see, she was partly black and partly white, and not being a very neat cat, the white hair got dirty so often that she believed it would be a great thing if it was all black. So she got the idea into her head that if she should shave off the white hair, it would be the color she wanted when it grew out again.

"Well, now what do you suppose that poor foolish thing did? Why she went to the barber's, and had him shave all the white hair off of her body. She actually frightened the ducks and the geese when she came home, she looked so queer; but you couldn't have made her believe it. She thought she was a perfect beauty, and when she came over to this farm that evening, Mr. Thomas Cat said to her:

"'Why you are a perfect sight, that's what you are, with those tufts of black hair all over you!'

"'That's all the style,' Mrs. Pussy Cat said, and I think she really believed that she was as handsome as any cat you could find.

"Well, things went along all right while the weather was warm, but in the course of ten days we had a heavy frost, and dear me, dear me, how cold it grew all of a sudden! Poor Mrs. Pussy Cat was almost frozen to death the first night of the cold snap, when she tried to stay with the rest of us to a concert, and went home moaning:

"'Oh, give me back my hair! Give me back my hair!'

"Of course that couldn't be done, because she had to wait for it to grow again; but Mrs. Man on the next farm wrapped her up in an old shawl, and she had to stay in a basket until her hair grew, else she'd have frozen to death, for we had a terrible hard winter that season. When the hair did come out it was uneven, of course, and she was the worst looking cat you ever saw.

"Mr. Man was shaving the first morning Mrs. Pussy Cat came out of the basket, and he hadn't seen her since she had been to the barber's.

"She jumped up on a chair by the side of him, thinking he would stroke her fur as he always used to do, when the poor man got one glimpse of her, and it nearly scared him into hysterics. I suppose he thought it was a ghost, or something like that, for she looked bad enough to be almost anything.

"He gave a yell, and jumped in the air. That scared Mrs. Pussy Cat, and she screamed as she leaped out of the chair. Then Mr. Man went after her with that big razor in his hand.

"I don't know how far he chased her; but Mr. Towser said that Mrs. Pussy Cat ran more than five miles before she stopped, and when she sneaked back home that night, I'm thinking she felt a good deal as Mr. Crow did when he tried to make folks believe peacock feathers were growing in his tail."

MR. CROW'S DECEIT.

"I have heard a great many stories which Mr. Crow has told; but never one about him," your Aunt Amy interrupted. "If he tried to deceive the other birds, I surely would like to know about it."

"Well, he did," Mrs. Mouser Cat said emphatically, sitting bolt upright; "but of course he doesn't like to have the story told, so I had rather you wouldn't let him know I mentioned it.

"I don't know how he happened to get it into his head to do such a thing, for, as a rule, he spends the most of his time over in the big tree telling stories or making poetry; but he grew foolish once, and whenever anybody came where he was, he said he had strange growing feathers, and the doctor believed he was turning into a peacock.

"Of course that made a good deal of excitement around here, among all of us, for it would be a strange thing for a crow to change in that way, and he had twice as many visitors as he ever had before, all wanting to know about the new feathers.

"Well, of course he couldn't keep saying that they were coming, and not show any signs of them, so one day he said he felt terribly sick and guessed he should go into the hospital. Then we didn't see anything of him for most a week, until little Redder Squirrel came around and said Mr. Crow was all right; that he had as many as six peacock feathers growing right out of his tail.

"Well, now, you can believe we were astonished, and more excited over it than we had been since young Mr. Thomas Cat painted the canary yellow. Of course we asked Redder Squirrel where we could see him, and he said Mr. Crow had agreed to come out on the hill, just under the tree, that afternoon.

"If we animals around here were anxious to see him, you can guess that the peacocks were just about wild, and when the time came for Mr. Crow to show himself, all the peacocks for as many as five miles around were gathered under the big tree. Mr. Crow didn't know anything about their coming, until he marched right out in the midst of them.

"Now Mr. Crow is really a wise bird, and how it happened that he was so foolish as to do what he did, beats me. Anybody with half an eye could see that he had simply stuck these feathers in his tail, and was trying to make us believe they had grown there. If he had stayed on the tree where we couldn't get very near him, there might have been some chance of deceiving us; but there he was right down where we could put our paws on him if we wanted to. And the peacocks! Angry? Oh me, oh my, don't say a word!

"One big one reached over with his beak, and pulled a feather from Mr. Crow's tail.

"'The next time you set yourself up for one of us, it would be a good idea to tie the feathers in, else they may drop out, as this one has,' the peacock said, and I expected to see Mr. Crow almost faint away with shame. But bless you, he never thought of doing anything of that kind. He took the feather as bold as a lion, looked at the end of it, and then he said, careless-like:

"'Well, I declare! I guess I must be moulting,' and with that, off he flew. We didn't see him again for as much as two weeks, and then he agreed not to write any poetry about us if we wouldn't tell the story of the feathers; but young Mr. Thomas Cat couldn't hold in, and reported it far and near, till Mr. Crow paid him back in good shape."

WHEN YOUNG THOMAS CAT PAINTED A CANARY.

"But what about painting a canary?" your Aunt Amy asked. "You spoke of such a thing a moment ago."

"Yes, and it is what I am telling you about. Mr. Crow wrote the poetry which tells the story, and you shall hear it."

Then Mrs. Mouser Cat repeated the following:

For he was such a knowing puss-- Oh yes, he was! A really clever, sharp young puss-- Oh yes, he was! He wouldn't do as others do, He said, "I know a thing or two, _I_ do!

"To-morrow is the great bird show-- I think it is; The far-renowned canary show-- Of course it is. Some yellow ochre, so I've heard, Will wondrously improve a bird, I've heard

"I think I'll enter at that show-- I think I will, Just make one entry for that show-- By Jove, I will. And if my bird don't get the prize, Why it will be, as I surmise, A surprise!"

The show was held--a great success-- Of course it was! By all 'twas called a huge success-- Indeed it was! The judges were experienced cats; They wore tail-coats, and large top-hats-- _Such_ hats!

Young Tom was there--he'd brought his bird-- Just think! he had! He'd really dared to bring that bird-- Oh yes, he had! He said, "No one will ever know That my canary's all no go, Oh no!"

But one old judge was rather spry-- Oh yes, he was! You'd not have thought him half so spry, But oh, he was! He said, "Why really, on my word! Disqualify that shocking bird!-- Absurd!"

So Tom's bird was disqualified-- Of course it was! Disgracefully disqualified, Ah yes, it was! And Tom, although he thought he knew A thing or two, found others too Who knew.

"Mr. Thomas must have believed that honesty was the best policy, before he got through with the bird show," your Aunt Amy suggested, and Mrs. Mouser Cat laughed as she replied:

"It would have shamed almost any cat; but it didn't seem to make a bit of difference with young Thomas. He was just as pert as ever the next day, and went around telling about the prize he would have taken if the judge hadn't discovered the fraud. It would have served him right if he had been punished as was Mr. Fox."

WHEN MR. FOX WAS TOO CUNNING.

"Is that another story?" your Aunt Amy asked.

"Yes, it is," Mrs. Mouser said reflectively, "and it shows that there are times when even a fox can be too cunning. One day while Mr. Fox, who used to live down in the swamp, was sneaking around behind the barn on this farm, he saw a bag hanging on the limb of a tree just over the water barrel.

"'Now I wonder what that is?' he said to himself, as he stopped and looked first at the bag and then at the barrel. 'It smells good, and I believe there's meat somewhere around here.'

"Then he climbed upon the barrel, and saw that it was half full of water, so he began to wonder what the meaning of it was.

"'It must be a trap Mr. Man has set for me,' he said rubbing his ear as if he thought himself very wise. 'He thinks I'll jump up for the bag, and fall into the water. Now he's got to find a younger fox than I am, if he wants to make that plan work, for I'm going to know what's hanging up there, and I won't take any chances of getting drowned, either, because I'll drink all the water first. Then that will settle it.'

"Well, he began to drink, and drink, and drink, until he swelled up amazingly; but there was plenty of water still left in the barrel. Then he drank some more; ran around a few moments, came back and drank again, until he was all swelled out, and couldn't swallow another drop; but the barrel appeared to be as full as when he commenced.

"By this time it wasn't possible for him to run the least little bit, and he was feeling a good deal as his father did after he had found the crab, when along came Mr. Man, who said:

"'Hello! here's a nice fat fox! I guess I'll take his skin,' and the next day, lo and behold, there was Mr. Fox's hide nailed up on the barn, showing that sometimes it is dangerous to be too cunning."

WHEN SONNY BUNNY RABBIT WAS RASH.

"I never saw an animal who didn't get into trouble when he thought he knew everything," Mrs. Mouser went on thoughtfully, giving no heed to the fact that your Aunt Amy was on the point of interrupting her. "Now there is Sonny Bunny Rabbit, he got it into his head that he was the greatest ever lived; that he could do just as he wanted to around this neighborhood, because he led Mr. Fox into a trap one day.

"Why, that foolish little rabbit used to sit out in the field at night, and tell me, who am old enough to be his grandmother at the very least, that he could do anything he pleased; that there was no animal around here who could get the best of him.

"Well, Sonny Bunny kept that idea in his mind, and one day Mr. Hawk came sailing along just when Sonny Bunny was talking with Redder Squirrel, and Redder he screamed:

"'Run, Sonny Bunny! Run for your life!'

"'You don't catch me running away from any old hawk,' Sonny Bunny said, as bold as a lion. 'I'm going to stay right here, and kick dirt in his face if he comes where I am.'

"'Run, Sonny Bunny, run!' Redder Squirrel cried, and for once he showed more sense than usual.

"But Sonny Bunny was so puffed up with what he thought he could do, that he stood still, and got ready to kick dirt, while old Mr. Hawk came sailing round, and round, and round, making ready to light on him. If you'll believe it, that foolish rabbit stayed right there until down came Mr. Hawk, and then, oh me, oh my, how Sonny did kick dirt!

"I'm willing to admit that part of his plan was all right. He blinded Mr. Hawk, but at the same time didn't save all of his own skin, for the old fellow's claws went into Sonny Bunny's back so far, as his mother told me, that you could almost see the bones, and the foolish rabbit laid in bed three or four weeks before he was fit to go out of doors again."

"It seems to me as if I had heard something like that before," your Aunt Amy said, and Mrs. Mouser replied:

"Very likely you've heard the same story, for all the animals around here know about it."

"But what was it you said about Mr. Fox's father meeting a crab?" your Aunt Amy asked.

MR. FOX AND MISS CRAB.

"Well, that isn't what you might really call a story; it's only something which happened to old Mr. Fox when he went down to the seashore for his health, and met young Miss Crab. He had never seen anybody of the kind, and didn't know whether she was an animal, or a fish, or a bird.

"'Good morning,' he said very politely, and Miss Crab answered him back as nice as you please.

"'Are you out for a walk?' he asked.

"'Oh no, indeed,' she said. 'I am here taking the sea air for my health. The doctor recommends it, but I am not allowed to move around very much because I'm so feeble.'

"Now old Mr. Fox was puzzled. He put his paw on her shell, and it was hard; but whether it was the house she lived in, or a part of herself, he couldn't for the life of him tell.

"Well, after a time he made up his mind that the shell must be her house, so he said:

"'Why don't you come outside where you can get purer air than you do in there?' and she replied, just as a gull went sailing by:

"'I don't dare to for fear some of those rude birds will eat me.'

"That settled old Mr. Fox. He thought if the birds liked Miss Crab well enough to eat her, she would make a good supper for him. So he began to coax and coax her to come out, and after a long time, finding that she would not do as he wanted, he began trying to bite the shell into pieces. Then she caught hold of his tongue with one of her big claws, and bit as much as an inch and a half right straight off the end of it.

"Oh me, oh my, how old Mr. Fox did howl! I'm told that he went home in a most dreadful rage, with the blood streaming out of his mouth, and when his wife asked him what the matter was, he couldn't say a word, of course not, because his tongue was gone. I don't know how long it was before he got well; but they do say he was the most shamefaced looking animal that was ever seen, whenever any one spoke to him about crabs, or the seashore."

THE BABY ELEPHANT.

"Speaking of the seashore reminds me of another piece of Mr. Crow's poetry, and if you can stand any more, I wish you would, because I think this is really good."

As a matter of course your Aunt Amy could do no less than say she would be pleased to hear it, and Mrs. Mouser recited that which is set down here:

To little John Adolphus Chubb Your kind attention I invite; Oh, how he loves to bathe and scrub, Each day at noon and eke at night.

Now John Adolphus William Chubb A fine young elephant is he; And when he's in his little tub, Oh, 'tis a pleasant sight to see!

His nurse,--a motherly old thing-- No need to coax the rogue has she; Adolphus, when he sees her bring The water, trumpets in his glee.

Oh, how he loves the cold, cold stream Descending on him in the tub! He feels as if he'd like to scream-- He loves it so--does William Chubb.

And then, the evening's washing o'er (Though he could wish it lasted still), His nurse will gay, "Come, come, no more; You've had enough now, Master Will!"

So swift he's dried, his night-gown on, A night-cap tied upon his head, And to the rattle's music, John Adolphus William goes to bed.

"I don't think that is very nice poetry," your Aunt Amy said when Mrs. Mouser had come to the end of the verses. "It is too ridiculous."

"That may be; but I have heard some of your friends, like Mr. Turtle, for example, tell you even worse than that," and Mrs. Mouser spoke quite sharply. "Now if you want a really pretty little story, that hasn't got much fun in it, I can tell you one about two mice, and it must be true, because I had it from a cat friend of mine who was on the spot."

THE STORY OF SQUEAKY MOUSE.

Your Aunt Amy said to Mrs. Mouser that she would be very much pleased to hear it, and, telling the story as if she did not entirely approve of it herself, Mrs. Mouser began:

"Mother Mouse had two little daughters, Meeky and Squeaky. Meeky was a good little mouse, and did everything her mother told her. Squeaky was very brave and daring, but she was the torment of everybody's life.

"One day Mother Mouse was too ill to go out and do her own marketing.

"'I wish you children would go and get me a little lump of cheese,' she moaned.

"Away scampered the two little mice to a high shelf they knew of; their mother had warned them against traps and cats, so they were careful not to linger on the pantry floor. When they found the cheese, Meeky began at once rolling up a little lump to take home to her mother, but Squeaky filled her mouth as full as it would hold, and ran up and down the shelf, making a great clatter.

"'Be careful,' said her sister. 'The cat will hear you.'

"Squeaky looked down and saw the cat on the pantry shelf; she knew it couldn't get up to her, and she could not resist calling: "'Peekaboo!'

"Dear me, how Mrs. Cat glared!

"'Oh,' said Meeky, 'how are we to get down with mother's cheese now?'

"Squeaky said they would wait till the cat went to sleep, and pretty soon this seemed to be the case. But Mrs. Cat was only shamming, for the minute Squeaky reached the floor she pounced upon her, and while the mouse was carried shrieking away, Meeky made her escape.

"Of course, Mother Mouse and Meeky felt badly for a while, but the other mice said it was just what might have been expected, and just what happened to young mice who would not mind what their elders told them."

"Don't you ever feel badly, Mrs. Mouser, when you have caught a mouse, to think that it had a mother, and brothers and sisters, in its hole, waiting for it to come back?" your Aunt Amy asked.

"Why should I?" and Mrs. Cat spoke sharply. "Mice were made for cats to eat, and even if they were not, unless I killed all I could, Mr. Man's house would be over-run with them."

A SAUCY MOUSE.