A PICNIC.
[Illustration]
ONE bright morning, at about eleven o'clock, I tipped my glass in the
direction of the Mouse-trap. It had been tipped in a very different
direction, for I had been watching a buffalo-hunt on the prairies. That
is an exciting sport, and one that I should like to join in, if I were a
few thousand years younger. Here at the Mouse-trap, however, there was
an excitement of quite another sort. All the five mice were hurrying
about, evidently very busy. The carriage stood at the door, and Uncle
Jack was packing all sorts of things into it. Nibble brought one big
basket, and Puff brought another, and both were stowed away under the
seat. Brighteyes came down the steps very carefully carrying something
in a pitcher, with a napkin tied over the top, and that too was stowed
away. As for Fluff and Downy, they were running round and round the
house as fast as they could, shouting: "Picnic! picnic! going to a
picnic! oh! Jollykaloo! Jollykaloo!"
[Illustration]
"Aha!" I said to my dog, "the mice are going to have a picnic. Let us
watch now, and see where they go: and then we shall have all the fun of
it, and none of the trouble." So we watched, and saw them all get into
the carriage except Nibble, who stood on the steps with his hands in his
pockets, evidently waiting for something. The something soon proved to
be Jose, the brown donkey, whom Thomas now led up the path, looking very
gay with his Mexican saddle and scarlet tassels. Nibble mounted him
nimbly, and took the reins and the whip. "Thank you, Tomty!" he said.
"And good-bye! I wish you were going to the picnic, Tomty!" "Thank you
kindly, sir!" replied Tomty. "The hens and me will be having a picnic in
the barn-yard, Master Nibble, I'm thinking."
"Now, Uncle Jack, I am ready!" cried the young horseman. "I will lead
the way, and you can follow!"
"Thank you!" said Uncle Jack, who was holding in the spirited horses
with some difficulty, "you are extremely kind, I am sure!"
"Get up, Jose!" cried Nibble, "Hi! go on, sir!" But Jose was not
inclined to go on. He shook his head, and pointed his long ears backward
and forward, but not a step would he stir, for entreaties, threats, or
blows. Then Tomty slyly took a sharp-pointed stake, and poked Master
Jose from behind. Ah, that was another matter! up went his heels in the
air, and off he went at full gallop, while all the occupants of the
carriage shouted with laughter, as they saw donkey and rider dash along
the avenue, and finally vanish in a cloud of dust.
"Come, Pollux! come, Castor!" said Uncle Jack, "it would never do for
the donkey to get to the Glen before us."
Castor and Pollux thought so too, for they tossed their heads, and
quickened their pace to a fast trot, though they were far too well
behaved to think of breaking into a gallop.
"Oh! isn't it nice to go so fastly?" exclaimed Fluffy, giving Downy a
hug. "Just like queens in their chariots. See those two little tiny
children, Downy! They are smaller as you, and perhaps they think we are
queens, only we haven't any crowns; but we might have left our crowns at
home for fear of robbers."
"Yef, wobbers!" said Downy, with a knowing nod.
"No I don't think we will be queens," said Brighteyes. "Let us be wild
beasts in a caravan, going to the menagerie, and then we can sing the
menagerie song." "Oh! yes! yes!" cried all the others. And then they
sang the following song, each singing a verse in turn, and then
imitating the voice of the creature she represented while the other
verses were sung. It was a lively game, you may believe.
[Illustration]
The Tiger is a terrible beast!
He lives in jungles of the East,
On bad little boys he loves to feast:
Oh! fiddledy, diddledy, dido!
The Lion he doth rage and roar;
And when he hits you with his paw,
You never are troubled with nothing no more,
Oh! fiddledy, diddledy, dido!
The Buffalo doth proudly prance,
Whenever the hunters will give him a chance,
And over the prairies he leads them a dance,
Oh! fiddledy, diddledy, dido!
The Crocodile doth open his jaws,
Like great big ugly tusky doors,
And gobbles you up without a pause,
Oh! fiddledy, diddledy, dido!
[Illustration: "THEY STOOD LOOKING AT THE MICE."]
By the time the last verse was finished the four mice were howling and
roaring in a manner frightful to hear, and Uncle Jack's patience finally
gave way. "Children," he said, turning round, "I cannot possibly endure
this. Be quiet at once, or I will drive you to the Lunatic Asylum and
leave you there! See, the people are all coming out of their houses to
stare at you!" So indeed they were, and one little girl, who stood with
her mother at a cottage gate, staring with might and main, cried:
"Them's all mad, be'nt them, mother?" "No, little girl!" said Puff, with
great dignity. "We are wild beasts going to a menagerie!" And the
carriage whirled away leaving the child not much the wiser.
Now they turned into a lovely wood road, when the trees bent down over
the carriage, and whispered in the mice's ears. But the mice did not
understand, as usual; they only rubbed their ears and said the leaves
tickled them. Uncle Jack stopped the horses, and told the mice to tumble
out, which they did speedily.
[Illustration]
One took a basket, and another a bottle, and all went trotting down the
mossy path that led to the lovely glen, while Uncle Jack stayed to
unharness the horses, and then followed with the "biggy-wiggy basket,"
as Downy called it. Indeed, it was a pretty sight to see those little
creatures, playing about like so many fairies in that lovely green
place. You should have seen the little flower-spirits start up to look
at them, as they frisked about among the trees. Little Primrose threw
kisses to them, and Violet offered them a dew-drop in her deepest purple
cup; but the merry mice thought nothing of the flower spirits and
neither saw nor heard them.
"Oh! the brook! the lovely brook!" cried Brighteyes. "We _must_ take off
our shoes and stockings and wade in it. Mayn't we, Uncle Jack?" Uncle
Jack nodded, and off went four pairs of shoes, and four pairs of scarlet
stockings. Oh? the little white feet! how pretty they looked, shining
through the clear water, that looked so brown in the still pools, and
sparkled so white over the rocks and the tiny rapids.
[Illustration]
That was fine sport, certainly. Fluff fell in, of course, but nobody
seemed to mind it much, and Fluff herself least of all, for it was a
very warm day, and Mrs. Posset was not there to lament the "ruination"
of her white frock.
Suddenly Brighteyes exclaimed: "But where is Nibble?" Sure enough, where
was that famous horseman? nobody had seen him since he had galloped
away up the avenue. "Oh, dear!" sighed Fluff, "perhaps he played wild
beast, and somebody took him and put him in the Lunatic Asylum! Do you
think anybody did, Uncle Jack?"
"I don't think he would be likely to play wild beast all alone. My fear
is that _Jose_ may have been playing, and----but see!" he added, looking
back towards the path by which they had entered the glen, "here comes
the young man himself, so now we shall know all about it."
Nibble came down the path slowly, looking very serious. His clothes were
covered with dust, his hat was battered out of all shape, and he carried
his whip under his arm, instead of snapping it gayly as he had done when
he started. Jose was not to be seen.
"Well, Nibble, my boy, what has happened?" asked Uncle Jack, cheerily.
"Has Jose been rolling with you again?" "Yes, Uncle!" answered Nibble,
as he drew near, and threw himself on the mossy bank where his uncle was
seated, "he is the worst donkey I ever saw! he wanted some thistles in
the hedge, and I wouldn't let him eat them, of course. So then he kicked
and reared, but he couldn't get me off _that_ way, and I whipped him a
good bit. But then he lay down and rolled, and then I _couldn't_ stay on
you see!" "I see!" said Uncle Jack. "You were certainly justified in
getting off. And then Jose went home, I suppose?" "Well, yes, I suppose
he did," said Nibble, reluctantly, "and I have walked a long way, Uncle,
and I want my dinner." "Bless me!" cried Uncle Jack, "dinner already?
Well, come out of the water, you little Nixies, and let us see about our
grand feast!"
Patter, patter, came all the little white feet, over the mossy stones,
and over the green turf, and I could not tell whether they looked
prettier in the water or out of it. There was a rush for the baskets,
and their contents were tumbled out pell-mell on the grass. Forks,
spoons, tarts, sandwiches, lemons, followed each other in rapid
succession.
"Now this will never do!" said Uncle Jack. "Too many cooks spoil the
broth, as we know, and we must not spoil our feast. Nibble, do you go
and gather brush and make a fire. Hap and Hazard shall pick some flowers
to make wreaths and posies, and Brighteyes shall help me to set the
table." "And what fell I do?" asked little Downy, piteously; "I muf do
fomefing!" "So you shall, Downy," said Uncle Jack; "you shall chase all
the butterflies away, so that they will not eat up the tarts."
[Illustration]
Now every one was happy and busy. The twinnies wandered off into the
meadow near by, filling their aprons with posies, and chattering
merrily, with little snatches of song mingling with their pretty talk.
It was pleasant to hear their sweet voices singing:
Daisy white and Daisy bright,
And Daisy is my heart's delight!
I'll twine you now in my true-love's hair,
And tell me who is the fairest fair!
Violet blue and Violet true,
And Violet filled with diamond dew!
I'll give you now to my true love here,
And tell me who is the dearest dear!
Meanwhile great things were accomplished in the glen. A snowy cloth was
spread on the emerald turf, and on it were arrayed all the good things,
in dishes and plates, which had been lately hanging on the great
sycamore-tree under which the feast was spread.
"Nothing like leaves for picnic-plates!" said Uncle Jack. "Now then,
Brighteyes, hand out that chicken pie! So! now for the strawberries and
the sponge cake! ha! this certainly does make one hungry." Indeed it
did, as I felt the pangs of hunger merely from seeing all the good
things in my mirror. "Go, good dog," I said to my faithful companion,
"and bring me some ice-cream from Mt. Vanilla. And dip the ladle into
that syllabub cloud that is drifting by, for it will make a pleasant
addition."
Bmfkgth departed on his errand, and I turned again to watch the picnic.
The kettle was boiling by this time over Nibble's brush fire, and he was
calling for the coffee-pot, when suddenly a shrill scream was heard from
the meadow, and Downy's voice cried, "Fomebody come! oh! oh! I'm
killed!" Brighteyes ran to the rescue, and found the little man gazing
in terror at a very innocent-looking white cow, who was quietly grazing
in the meadow. He ran to his sister, and clung to her, crying, "Dat cow
looked at me! I'm killed!" Brighteyes took his hand and ran back
laughing. "Here is a boy who has been killed by a cow's looking at him,"
she said, "and he wants a sandwich."
[Illustration]
All was ready now. The twins were called, and came back laden with
flowers; Nibble came with his coffee-pot, and the grand feast began in
earnest. Dear! dear! how good everything looked! chicken pie and smoked
tongue and sandwiches, and chocolate custard in a pitcher, and
everything else that you can think of. I never have chicken pie up here,
because there are no chickens, but I think it must be very nice, and it
was very evident that the mice thought so. Uncle Jack carved and helped,
and everybody ate and drank and chattered merrily. My brother Sun smiled
at them, and sent millions of sunbeams, twinkling and sparkling over the
grass and dancing on the ripples of the brook; and when they were too
warm, hosts of merry Winds came flying, and fanned them and kissed them.
Among them were the seven little fellows who had blown Nibble and
Brighteyes to China, and they whispered, "Dear little Heavy-Ones; will
you take another flying-trip with us?" but the children did not hear nor
heed them, so nothing further was said.
When the feast was over, there was a grand washing of spoons and forks,
and a putting away of what was good and throwing away of what was bad.
Then came blind-man's-buff, and hide-and-seek, and all manner of games;
and then more paddling and tumbling in the brook, splashing and dashing,
"for all the world like the forty little ducklings!" Uncle Jack said.
"Oh! tell us about the little ducklings!" cried all the mice. And they
climbed up the bank and sat down in a circle round their uncle, holding
up their wet feet to dry in the sun. "About the ducklings, eh?" said
Uncle Jack, "well, let me see if I can remember."
The forty little ducklings who lived up at the farm,
They said unto each other, "oh! the day is _very_ warm!"
They said unto each other, "oh! the river's _very_ cool!
The duck who did not seek it now would surely be a fool!"
The forty little ducklings they started down the road,
And waddle, waddle, waddle, was the gait at which they goed,
The same it is not grammar, you may change it if you choose!
But one cannot stop for trifles when inspired by the Muse.
They waddled and they waddled, and they waddled on and on,
Till one remarked, "oh! deary me, where _is_ the river gone?
We asked the Ancient Gander, and he said 'twas very near,
He must have been deceiving us, or else himself, I fear."
They waddled and they waddled, till no further they could go,
Then down upon a mossy bank they sat them in a row.
They took their little handkerchiefs and wept a little weep,
And then they put away their heads, and then they went to sleep.
There came along a farmer, with a basket on his arm,
And all those little ducklings he took back to the farm,
He put them in their little beds and wished them sweet repose,
And fastened mustard plasters on their little webby toes.
Next day those little ducklings were very, very ill,
Their mother sent for Dr. Quack, who gave them each a pill,
But soon as they recovered, the first thing that they did
Was to peck the Ancient Gander, till he ran away and hid.
[Illustration]
"There!" said Uncle Jack, "weren't they funny ducklings?" "Yes!" said
Puff; "is it true, Uncle?" "Part of it is," replied Uncle Jack. "It is
true about the ducklings running away, and about the farmer's finding
them. I know the farmer. His name is Mr. Thomas Burnham, and a very good
farmer he is. But I did not see him put the mustard plasters on their
feet, so I cannot tell about that." "Then tell us something else,
please!" cried Brighteyes. "No! no!" said Uncle Jack; "it is six
o'clock, you bad children! Once upon a time there were five little mice,
and it was time for them to go home. That is the only story I can tell
you now."
[Illustration]
Well, to be sure, it did seem a shame to go home, just when everything
was so lovely. But Downy was beginning to rub his eyes as if my friend
the Sand-man had been blowing into them, and the shadows were
lengthening, and Brother Sun was beginning to call his beams home. So
the mice bade farewell to the lovely glen, and the merry brook, and
trotted up the mossy path as cheerfully, if not as quickly as they had
trotted down it. Harum-scarum and flyaway my mice certainly are, but
they are almost always cheerful and obedient, and that is a great thing.
Primrose and Violet and the rest looked after them, and said, "God bless
their merry hearts!" then they curled down under their leaves and went
to sleep, for it was high time. The brook sang its sweetest good-bye
song, as it hurried away toward the sea, to tell the gossipping waves
what a delightful afternoon it had passed; and as if in answer to the
song, I heard Puff and Fluff singing merrily, as the carriage rolled
away:
"Rosebud fine and Rosebud mine,
And Rosebud red as the ruby wine,
I'll lay you now at my true-love's feet,
And tell me who is the sweetest sweet!"