MINNIE AND THE SQUIRREL.
One day, when Minnie's mother had been telling her how wicked it was to
be so disobedient, and how much trouble she gave every one that loved
her, the little girl thought she never would climb another fence, but
would begin now, and be good.
So she seated herself on the door-step, and was quiet as many as two
minutes.
Then a little brown sparrow came hopping, hopping along the top of the
fence, and stopped a short way off, and chirped, as if he were saying,
"You can't catch me!"
"Can't I?" said Minnie, and another minute she was dancing along the
rail.
The sparrow flew away, and then Minnie, remembering the promise which
she had made to her mother, went back to her seat.
She was quiet longer this time, for she began to think how hard it was
to be good. Then she remembered how the sparrow had flown away--away off
alone up into the bright blue air, and could sing as loud as he chose,
and tilt on the highest boughs of the trees, and nobody call him rude.
And the sparrow didn't have to be washed and dressed in the morning, and
to eat his breakfast at just such a time, and be careful to take his
fork in his right hand, and not to spill his milk.
O, how much better breakfasts the sparrow had! First, a drink of dew
from the leaves about his nest; then, a sweet-brier blossom to give him
an appetite; and then, wild raspberries and strawberries, as many as he
wanted; and, afterwards, wild honey to sweeten his tongue, or smooth gum
from the cherry-tree to clear his throat before the morning song!
Then for a merry chase through the woods, instead of going to school.
"O, dear! O, dear!" said Minnie, "why wasn't I made a sparrow?"
Just then she heard a chattering in the pine-tree over her head, and a
squirrel tripped in sight. Minnie happened to have some nuts in her
pocket, so she quietly rolled one along the top of the fence, and
squirrel came down for it.
I think wild creatures know which children are their friends, and which
their enemies. At all events, this squirrel did not feel afraid of
Minnie, but sat there nibbling at the nut she gave him, until he had
eaten out all the meat.
Just then her mother came to the door with some ladies, who had been
making her a call, and off darted squirrel, quicker than you can think.
"Now, where has he gone?" thought Minnie; "down under the cool grass, I
suppose, or far off into the pleasant woods, where he can have all the
nuts he wants, and play hide-and-go-seek among the boughs. O, dear! I
wish I had been a squirrel! I wonder if I couldn't run along the fence
as quickly as he did just now!"
Her mother was talking so busily with her friends that she forgot to
watch Minnie, and off the little girl flew, along the rail, skipping
and dancing, and twirling upon one foot.
And now comes the wonderful part of my story. Minnie thought she heard
somebody scream, and then she looked round, and her mother was gone, and
she was seated on the door-step all alone again, and squirrel, on the
fence beside her, was eating his nut.
"Come, give us another!" he said, at last, throwing away the shell, and
speaking with the queerest little squeaky, grumbling voice.
"Why, who taught you how to talk?" asked Minnie, in surprise.
"O, nobody. Squirrels don't go to school. They couldn't keep us quiet on
the benches, you see. It makes us ache to sit still!" and he ran round
and round the rail of the fence, to rest himself.
"Pray, don't go away yet," called Minnie; "I want to know if all
squirrels talk, or what you did to learn."
Down the squirrel jumped into the grass, pulled the blades apart with
his paws, and smelt of this weed and that, till at last he found what
seemed to satisfy him, for he broke off a sprig, and went back to his
seat on the fence.
"Minnie, how should you like to live with us?" he said. "We have good
times, I tell you, out in the woods. We do nothing but chatter, and eat,
and fly about, all day long. We haven't any master, and the whole
world's our play-ground; the deep earth is our cellar; the sun is our
lamp and stove."
"But I should frighten the squirrels, I'm so large!" and Minnie stood on
tip-toe, to let him see what a great girl--as indeed she was, beside a
squirrel!
"The same weed that made me talk like a little girl, will make you grow
small as a squirrel. Do you dare to taste it?" and he tossed the green
sprig into Minnie's lap.
"Dare? yes, indeed! who's afraid?" She ate the leaves at a mouthful.