THE THIEVING SQUIRRELS.
NOT long after the visit of Mrs. McIntire, Mrs. Corwin walked to the
village near by, to make a call upon a friend. On her return, she was
slowly wending her way along the avenue in front of the house, when she
heard a curious sound from the tree.
She stopped and listened. It was almost like the chattering of human
voices; but after a minute, she recognized it as the chirping of
squirrels.
Within a yard of the place where she stood, there was an old tree
with a great hole in the trunk, and now peeping out of the hole was a
cunning little squirrel, whose mother perhaps had been giving him some
private instructions on his conduct; or who was starting out in search
of his dinner.
"Pretty creature!" said the lady, quietly extending her hand.
Bobby didn't understand her friendly action, but quick as thought,
darted up the great trunk, ran out on a long bough, hopped to the
branch of another tree, then up and on straight to the roof of the
house. There he stood a minute perched on the end of the gutter and
throwing his tail over his head seemed to say:—
"I'm out of your reach now, my lady."
Then, while she stood laughing and wondering, Bobby darted under the
eaves, and ran into the house.
"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Corwin. "Is that the way you get in?"
She walked up the steps, opened the door, and went straight to the
kitchen to tell cook what she had seen.
The woman laughed heartily, but presently said:—
"It's no joke indeed, ma'am; for if the wicked thieves are left alone,
we'll come to famine. It's true indeed, missis; they're a cruel set,
though I never thought it. John unheaded a barrel of apples only
yesterday; and they were sunken' down a third. It was a great mystery
that not all of us could solve, until we found a heap of parings all
cut and wasted, lying in a corner. It was the seeds they were after,
and they had eaten a hole right through the bottom of the barrel, the
deceitful creatures!"
"O cook, what a pity!" murmured the lady. "If they would only eat the
apples, it wouldn't be so bad; but it's dreadful to have those golden
russets wasted. John must bring the barrels upstairs, and put them in
the store-room."
"That's what he did, ma'am. Nurse moved those old beehives, and made a
place for them after John had picked and sorted them."
Bessie was very much amused when mamma told her about the squirrel
running up from his hole in the tree, but when she heard about his
stealing the apples, she looked very sober.
The lady laid aside her bonnet and sat down to her sewing, while Jamie
played with a box of buttons nurse had given him.
"Mamma," began Bessie, looking up from her play, "does God love
squirrels that steal?"
"Squirrels don't know any better, darling."
"Don't God want them to keep the commandments?"
Bessie's large eyes were fixed earnestly on her mother's as she asked
these questions; and the lady saw she was really troubled for poor
ignorant Bobby.
"Don't you remember, dear," she asked, "that I told you Flossy isn't
naughty when she sleeps at prayers, or when she plays on Sunday? She
has no soul; and when she dies, her body will be buried, and that will
be an end of her.
"It is just so with the squirrels. Little Bobby doesn't know that it is
wrong for him to gnaw a hole in our nice barrel, and cut the apples all
to pieces for the sake of a few little seeds.
"He doesn't imagine that he is cruel to creep along to the robin's
nest, and eat her pretty eggs. Oh, no! He thinks of nothing but his
hunger, and his instinct teaches him to eat whatever he can get."
Bessie seemed only half satisfied. She took up Miss Prim, who had
fallen over on to her nose; but she did not laugh. She looked flushed
and anxious.
"Don't you understand it, my daughter?" asked mamma, drawing the child
to her side.
"I was thinking, mamma."
"Thinking what, Bessie?"
"Is it nice to have a soul? Did God love us better than he did Flossy;
and so he let us learn the commandments; and go to heaven when we die?"
"Yes, my darling child. 'God created man in his own image. And God
breathed into him the breath of life, and man became a living soul.'
This is what the Bible tells us about it. To animals, like horses, and
cows, and dogs, he has given instinct which teaches them to take care
of themselves; but they have no reason nor conscience."
"Does papa thank God, when he prays, that we have souls?"
"Yes, dear. Only yesterday, he thanked God that we were not like the
beasts that perish."
"I don't think cook ought to call squirrels wicked, then, if they only
do what God lets them."
Mrs. Corwin laughed at Bessie's excited tone.
"I think," she said, "that I've heard a little girl say to her dog, 'O
Flossy! What a very, very naughty dog you are, not to keep still in
school. You make all my scholars tumble over.'"
"Was cook only playing scold then? I'm so glad! I'm going to tell her
that squirrels haven't any souls, and so it isn't wicked for them to
take our apples."
"But it is very inconvenient, my dear; and somehow we must contrive a
way to stop it."
"But how can we, mamma? Squirrels must have something to eat."
"I heard your papa say, he should have to shoot them, if they were so
troublesome another year."
"O mamma! He wouldn't do that. I couldn't bear to see one killed."
"Would you prefer to give up all our pretty birds? Think how the
robins wake us in the morning with their melodious songs. Think of the
blue-birds that fly about so gayly. If the squirrels increase as they
have done, every egg will be eaten up."
Bessie looked very serious, and did not speak for some minutes. Then
she said, "Mamma, I'm going to tell God all about it; and then he will
do what is best."
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