know which way to go. All at once he was face to face with some large
animal. It wore a long cape and a mask. It also carried a real pistol
which it pointed at Erastus and told him to hold up his wings. Erastus
the Robber Duck held up his wings as high as possible, and tried to get
them higher. It did not seem to Erastus that he could hold them up high
enough. His mother had read to him about robbers.
Then the robber took all the things that Erastus had in his pockets. He
took his new knife and his little watch; also the nice bag which his
mother had given him for Christmas.
Erastus kept his wings up a good while after the robber had gone. He was
afraid the robber had not gone far enough. When he put them down they
were cramped and sore. Then he heard something again, and thought it was
the robber coming back after his clothes.
Erastus fled with great speed, taking off his garments as he ran. At
last he reached the edge of the wood, not far from where he lived. It
was just morning, and his mother saw him coming. She looked sad, and
embraced him.
It was the first time Erastus had been out all night.
Erastus was not allowed to go swimming or even to leave the yard for a
long time. Whenever he remembered that night in the woods he shivered,
and his mother thought he had a chill. Then she would put him to bed
and give him some of the unpleasant medicine.
Erastus did not tell his mother _all_ that had happened that night for a
good while. He was ashamed to do so. But one day when he seemed quite
sick and his mother was frightened, he broke down and told her all about
it. Then his mother forgave him, and he got well right away.
After that Erastus behaved, and grew to be the best and largest duck in
Mr. Man's farm-yard.
* * * * *
While Mr. Dog had been reading his story the Hollow Tree People--the
'Coon and the 'Possum and the Old Black Crow--had been leaning forward
and almost holding their breath, and Mr. Dog felt a good deal flattered
when he noticed how interested they were. When he sat down he saw that
Mr. 'Possum's mouth was open and his tongue fairly hanging out with
being so excited.
[Illustration: MR. 'POSSUM SAID IT MIGHT BE A GOOD ENOUGH STORY, BUT IT
COULDN'T BE TRUE]
Then before any of the others could say a word, Mr. 'Possum said that it
might be a good enough story, but that it couldn't be true. He said that
he wasn't a judge of stories, but that he was a judge of ducks--young
ducks, or old either--and that no young duck could pass the night in the
Big Deep Woods and get home at sunrise or any other time, unless all the
other animals were snowed in or locked up in a menagerie, and that the
animal that had met Erastus might have robbed him, of course, but he
would have eaten him first, and then carried off what was left, unless,
of course, that robber was a rabbit, and he said that he didn't believe
any rabbit would have spunk enough to be in that business.
Mr. Rabbit was about to say something just then, but Mr. Crow and Mr.
'Coon both interrupted and said they thought Mr. 'Possum was right for
once, except about Mr. Rabbit, who was plenty brave enough, but too much
of a gentleman to be out robbing people at night when he could be at
home in bed asleep. Then Mr. Dog said:
"I don't know whether the story is true or not. I wrote it down as I
heard it among Mr. Man's fowls, and I know the duck that they still call
Erastus, and he's the finest, fattest--"
But Mr. Dog didn't get any further. For the Hollow Tree People broke in
and said, all together:
"Oh, take us to see him, Mr. Dog! Or perhaps you could bring him to see
us. Invite him to spend an evening with us in the Hollow Tree. Tell him
we will have him for dinner and invite our friends. Oh, do, Mr. Dog!"
But Mr. Dog knew what they meant by having him for dinner, and he said
he guessed Mr. Man would not be willing to have Erastus go out on an
invitation like that, and that if Erastus came, Mr. Man might take a
notion to visit the Hollow Tree himself. Then the Hollow Tree People
all said, "Oh, never mind about Erastus! He's probably old and
disagreeable anyway. We don't think we would care for him. But it was a
nice story--very nice, indeed."
And pretty soon Mr. Dog said he'd been thinking about the robber animal,
too, and had made up his mind that it might have been one of Mr. Cat's
family--for Mr. Man's little boy and girl had a book with a nice poem in
it about a robber cat, and a robber dog, too, though he didn't think
that the dog could have been any of _his_ family. Mr. Cat, he said,
would not be likely to care for Erastus, feathers and all, that way, and
no doubt it really was Mr. Cat who robbed him. Mr. Dog said that he had
once heard of a Mr. Cat who wanted to be king--perhaps after Mr. Lion
had gone out of the king business, and that there was an old poem about
it that Mr. Dog's mother used to sing to him, but he didn't think it had
ever been put into a book. He said there were a good many things in it
he didn't suppose the Hollow Tree People would understand because it was
about a different kind of a country--where his mother had been born--but
that if they really would like to hear it he would try to remember it
for them, as it would be something different from anything they had been
used to. Then the Hollow Tree People and their friends all said how glad
they would be to hear it, for they always liked to hear about new
things and new parts of the country; so Mr. Dog said that if some of the
others would read or sing or dance their jigs first, perhaps it would
come to him and he would sing it for them by and by.
Then Mr. Robin spoke up and said that he thought Mr. Dog's story had a
good moral in it, and he said that _his_ story (Mr. Robin's, of course)
was that kind of a story, too. Perhaps he'd better tell it now, he said,
while their minds were running that way, though as for Mr. 'Possum's
mind it seemed to be more on how good Erastus might be cooked than how
good he had become in his behavior. He was sorry, he said, that his
story didn't have any ducks in it, young or old, but that perhaps Mr.
'Possum and the others would be willing to wait for the nice pair of
cooked ones now hanging in Mr. Crow's pantry, to be served at the end of
the literary exercises.
But Mr. 'Possum said "No," he wasn't willing to wait any longer--that
Mr. Dog's story and the mention of those nice cooked fowls was more than
he could bear, and that if it was all the same to Mr. Robin and the
others he voted to have supper first, and then he'd be better able to
stand a strictly moral story on a full stomach.
Mr. Crow and Mr. 'Coon said that was a good idea, and Mr. Rabbit said he
thought they'd better postpone Mr. Robin's story until the next evening,
as Mr. 'Possum had taken up so much time with his arguments that he
must be hungrier than usual, and if he put in as much more time eating,
it would be morning before they were ready to go on with the literary
programme.
Then they all looked at the clock and saw that it really was getting
late, though that was the only way they could tell, for the snow covered
all the windows and made no difference between day and night in the
Hollow Tree.
THE "SNOWED-IN" LITERARY CLUB--Part II
THE "SNOWED-IN" LITERARY CLUB
PART II
MR. RABBIT STARTS SOME NEW AMUSEMENTS
It was still dark in the Hollow Tree when the Deep Woods People woke up
next morning, but they knew what was the matter now, and could tell by
the clock and the fire that it was day outside, even before Mr. 'Possum
ran up to his room and looked out the window and came back shivering,
because he said the snow was blowing and drifting and some had drifted
in around his windows and made his room as cold as all outdoors. He said
he was willing to stay by the fire while this spell lasted, and take
such exercise as he needed by moving his chair around to the table when
he wanted to eat.
Mr. 'Coon said that Mr. 'Possum might exercise himself on a little wood
for the cook-stove in Mr. Crow's kitchen if he wanted any breakfast,
and that if this spell kept up long enough, they wouldn't have anything
left but exercise to keep them alive.
So Mr. 'Possum went down-stairs after an armful of stove-wood, and he
stayed a good while, though they didn't notice it at the time. Then they
all helped with the breakfast, and after breakfast they pushed back all
the things and played Blind Man's Buff, for Mr. Rabbit said that even if
moving his chair from the fire to the table and back again was enough
exercise for Mr. 'Possum, it wasn't enough for _him_, and the others
said so, too.
[Illustration: SO THEN MR. RABBIT SAID THEY MUST CHOOSE WHO WOULD BE
"IT"]
So then Mr. Rabbit said they must choose who would be It first, and they
all stood in a row and Mr. Rabbit said:
"Hi, ho, hickory dee
One for you and one for me;
One for the ones you try to find,
And one for the one that wears the blind,"
which was a rigmarole Mr. Rabbit had made up himself to use in games
where somebody had to be "It," and Mr. Rabbit said it around and around
the circle on the different ones--one word for each one--until he came
to the word blind and that was Mr. 'Possum, who had to put on the
handkerchief and do more exercising than any of them, until he caught
Mr. Turtle, who had to be "It" quite often, because he couldn't get
out of the way as well as the others.
[Illustration: MR. 'POSSUM HAD TO PUT ON THE HANDKERCHIEF AND DO MORE
EXERCISING THAN ANY OF THEM]
And Mr. 'Possum was "It" a good deal, too, and Mr. 'Coon, and all the
rest, though Mr. Robin was "It" less than anybody, because he was so
little and spry that he could get out of the way.
Then when they were tired of "Blind Man's Bluff" they played "Pussy
Wants a Corner" and "Forfeits," and Mr. 'Possum had to make a speech to
redeem his forfeit, and he began:
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN" (though there were no ladies present)--"I am
pleased to see you all here this evening" (though it wasn't evening)
"looking so well dressed and well fed. It is better to be well fed than
well dressed. It is better to be well dressed than not dressed at all.
It is better to be not dressed at all than not fed at all. Ladies and
gentlemen, I thank you for your kind attention and applause"--though
they hadn't applauded yet, but they did, right away, and said it was a
good speech, and Mr. Crow said it reminded him that it was about
dinner-time, and that he would need some more wood.
So Mr. 'Possum got right up to get the stove-wood again, which everybody
thought was very good of Mr. 'Possum, who wasn't usually so spry and
willing.
Then in the afternoon they had games again, but nice quiet games, for
they were all glad to sit down, and they played "Button! Button! Who's
Got the Button?" and nobody could tell when Mr. 'Possum had the button,
for his face didn't show it, because he was nearly always looking
straight into the fire, and seemed to be thinking about something away
off. And when the fire got low, he always jumped up and offered to go
down into the store-room after the wood, and they all said how willing
and spry Mr. 'Possum was getting all at once, and when he stayed a good
while down-stairs they didn't think anything about it--not at the
time--or if they did they only thought he was picking out the best
pieces to burn. They played "Drop the Handkerchief", too, and when they
got through Mr. Rabbit performed some tricks with the handkerchief and
the button that made even Mr. 'Possum pay attention because they were so
wonderful.
There was one trick especially that Mr. Rabbit did a great many times
because they liked it so much, and were so anxious to guess how it was
done. Mr. Rabbit told them it was a trick that had come down to him from
his thirty-second great-grandfather, and must never be told to any one.
[Illustration: WOULD FIND IT ON THE MANTEL-SHELF OR PERHAPS ON MR.
CROW'S BALD HEAD]
It was a trick where he laid the button in the centre of the
handkerchief and then folded the corners down on it, and pressed them
down each time so that they could see that the button was still there,
and he would let them press on it, too, to prove it, and then when he
would lift up the handkerchief by the two corners nearest him there
would be no button at all, and he would find it on the mantel-shelf or
perhaps on Mr. Crow's bald head, or in Mr. 'Possum's pocket, or some
place like that. But one time, when Mr. Rabbit had done it over and
over, and maybe had grown a little careless, he lifted the handkerchief
by the corners nearest him, and there was the button sticking fast,
right in the centre of the handkerchief, for it had a little beeswax on
it, to make it stick to one of the corners next to Mr. Rabbit, and by
some mistake Mr. Rabbit had turned the button upside down!
Then they all laughed, and all began to try it for themselves, and Mr.
Rabbit laughed too, though perhaps he didn't feel much like it, and told
them that they had learned one of the greatest secrets in his family,
and that he would now tell them the adage that went with it if they
would promise never to tell either the secret or the adage, and they all
promised, and Mr. Rabbit told them the adage, which was:
"When beeswax grows on the button-tree,
No one knows what the weather'll be."
"That," said Mr. Rabbit, "is a very old adage. I don't know what it
means exactly, but I'm sure it means something, because old adages
always do mean something, though often nobody can find out just what
it is, and the less they seem to mean the better they are, as adages.
There are a great many old adages in our family, and they have often got
my ancestors out of trouble. When we didn't have an old one to fit the
trouble we made a new one, and by-and-by it got old too, and useful in
different ways, because by that time it didn't seem to mean anything
special, and could be used almost anywhere."
Then the Deep Woods People all said there was never anybody who knew so
much and could do so many things as Mr. Jack Rabbit, and how proud they
all were to have him in their midst, and Mr. Rabbit showed them how to
do all the tricks he knew, and they all practised them and tried them on
each other until Mr. Crow said he must look after the supper, and Mr.
'Possum ran right off after an armful of stove-wood, and everybody
helped with everything there was to do, for they were having such a good
time and were so hungry.
And after supper they all sat around the fire again and smoked a little
before anybody said anything, until by-and-by Mr. Rabbit said that they
would go on now with the literary club, and that Mr. Robin might read
the story he had mentioned the night before.
So Mr. Robin got up, and stood on a chair, and made a nice bow. He said
it was not really his own story he had written, but one that his
grandmother used to tell him sometimes, though he didn't think it had
ever been put into a book.
Then Mr. Rabbit spoke up and said that that didn't matter, that of
course everybody couldn't be original, and that the story itself was the
main thing and the way you told it. He said if Mr. Robin would go right
on with the story now it would save time. So then they all knocked the
ashes out of their pipes--all except Mr. Robin, who began right off to
read his story:
THE DISCONTENTED FOX
THE DISCONTENTED FOX
MR. ROBIN TELLS HOW A FOX LEARNED A GOOD LESSON BY TAKING A LONG JOURNEY
Once upon a time there was a Fox who lived at the foot of a hill and had
a _nice garden_. One morning when he began to hoe in it he got tired,
and the sun was _very hot_. Then the Fox didn't like to hoe any more,
and made up his mind that it wasn't very pleasant to have a garden,
anyway.
So then he started out to travel and find _pleasant things_. He put on
his best clothes, and the first house he came to belonged to a Rabbit
who kept bees. And the Rabbit showed the Fox his bees and how to take
out the honey. And the Fox said, "What _pleasant work_!" and wanted to
take out honey too. But when he did there was a bee on the honey, and it
stung the Fox on the nose. And that hurt the Fox, and his nose began to
swell up, and he said:
"This is not pleasant work _at all_!" and of course it wasn't--not for
_him_--though the Rabbit seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_.
So the Fox travelled on, and the next house he came to belonged to a
Crow who made pies. And the Fox looked at him awhile and said, "What
_pleasant work_!" And the Crow let the Fox help him, and when the Fox
went to take a pie out of the oven he burnt his fingers _quite badly_.
Then he said, "No, it is _not_ pleasant work--not for _me_!" and that
was true, though the Crow seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_.
So the Fox went on again, and the next house he came to belonged to a
'Coon who milked cows. And the Fox watched him milk, and pretty soon he
said: "What pleasant work that _is_! Let _me_ milk." So the 'Coon let
the Fox milk, and the Cow put her foot in the milk-pail and upset it
_all over_ the Fox's nice _new clothes_. And the Fox was mad, and said:
"This work is not in the _least_ pleasant!" and he _hurried away_,
though the 'Coon seemed to enjoy it _more than ever_.
And the next house the Fox came to belonged to a Cat who played the
fiddle. And the Fox listened awhile and said: "What pleasant work that
_must be_!" and he borrowed the Cat's fiddle. But when he started down
the road playing, a Man ran around the corner and shot a loud gun at
him, and that was not pleasant, _either_, though the Cat seemed to enjoy
it _more than ever_.
So the Fox kept on travelling and _doing_ things that he thought would
be _pleasant_, but that did not turn out to _be_ pleasant--not for
_him_--until by-and-by he had travelled _clear around the world_ and had
come up on the other side, _back_ to his _own garden_ again. And his
garden was just the same as he had left it, only the things had grown
bigger, and there were _some weeds_.
And the Fox jumped over the fence and commenced to _hoe_ the _weeds_,
and pretty soon he said, "Why, this is _pleasant_!" Then he hoed some
more, and said, "Why, what pleasant work _this is_!"
So he kept on hoeing and finding it pleasant until by-and-by the weeds
were _all gone_, and the _Rabbit_ and the _Crow_ and the _Cat_ and the
_'Coon_ came and traded him honey and pies and milk and music for
vegetables, because he had the best garden in the world. And he _has
yet_!
* * * * *
When Mr. Robin got through and sat down, Mr. Squirrel spoke up and said
it was a good story because it had a moral lesson in it and taught folks
to like the things they knew best how to do, and Mr. 'Possum said yes,
that might be so, but that the story couldn't be true, because none of
those animals would have enjoyed seeing that Fox leave them, but would
have persuaded him to stay and help them, and would have taught him to
do most of the work.
Then Mr. Robin spoke up and said that Mr. 'Possum thought everybody was
like himself, and that anyway Mr. 'Possum didn't need the lesson in that
story, for he already liked to do the things he could do best, which
were to eat and sleep and let other people do the work, though of course
he had been very good about getting the wood, lately, which certainly
was unusual.
Then Mr. 'Possum said he didn't see why Mr. Robin should speak in that
cross way when he had only meant to be kind and show him the mistake in
his story, so he could fix it right. And Mr. Rabbit said that as Mr.
'Possum seemed to know so much how stories and poems ought to be
written, perhaps he'd show now what he could do in that line himself.
Mr. 'Possum said he hadn't written anything because it was too much
trouble, but that he would tell them a story if they would like to hear
it--something that had really happened, because he had been there, and
was old enough to remember.
But before he began Mr. Robin said that as they had not cared much about
his story he would like to recite a few lines he had thought of, which
would perhaps explain how he felt, and all the animals said, "Of course,
go right on," and Mr. Robin bowed and recited a little poem he had made,
called
ONLY ME
_By C. Robin_
How came a little bird like me
A place in this fine group to win?
My mind is small--it has to be--
The little place I keep it in.
How came a little bird like me
To be here in the Hollow Tree?
When all the others know so much,
And are so strong and gifted too,
How can I dare to speak of such
As I can know, and think, and do?
How can a little bird like me
Belong here in the Hollow Tree?
[Illustration: MR. POSSUM SAID HE HADN'T MEANT ANYTHING AT ALL BY WHAT
HE HAD SAID ABOUT THE STORY]
Well, when Mr. Robin finished that, all the others spoke right up and
said that Mr. Robin must never write anything so sad as that again. They
said his story was just as good as it could be, and that Mr. Robin was
one of the smartest ones there; and Mr. 'Possum burst into tears, and
said that he hadn't meant anything at all by what he had said about the
story, and that some time, when they were all alone, Mr. Robin must
tell it to him again, and he would try to have sense enough to
understand it.
Then he ran over to Mr. Robin, and was going to embrace him and weep on
his shoulder, and would very likely have mashed him if Mr. Turtle hadn't
dragged him back to his seat and told him that he had done damage enough
to people's feelings without killing anybody, and the best thing he
could do now would be to go on with a story of his own if he had any.
But Mr. 'Possum said he was too sleepy now, so Mr. Dog sang the poem
which he had promised the evening before because, he said, singing would
be a nice thing to go to sleep on. Mr. Dog's song was called
THE CAT WHO WOULD BE KING
There was cat who kept a store,
With other cats for customers.
His milk and mice
All packed in ice
His catnip all in canisters.
[Illustration: AND SO THIS CAT GREW RICH AND FAT]
Fresh milk he furnished every day--
Two times a day and sometimes three--
And so this cat
Grew rich and fat
And proud as any cat could be.
But though so fat and rich he grew
He was not satisfied at all--
At last quoth he,
"A king I'll be
Of other cats both great and small."
[Illustration]
Then hied he to the tinner cat,
Who made for him a tinsel crown,
And on the street,
A king complete,
He soon went marching up and down.
[Illustration]
Now, many cats came out to see,
And some were filled with awe at him;
While some, alack,
Behind his back
Did laugh and point a paw at him.
Mice, milk, and catnip did he scorn;
He went to business less and less--
And everywhere
He wore an air
Of arrogance and haughtiness.
[Illustration: HIS CLERKS]
His clerks ate catnip all day long--
They spent much time in idle play;
They left the mice
From off the ice--
They trusted cats who could not pay.
While happy in his tin-shop crown
Each day the king went marching out,
Elate because
He thought he was
The kind of king you read about.
[Illustration: A SOLEMN LOOK WAS IN HIS FACE]
But lo, one day, he strolled too far,
And in a dim and dismal place
A cat he met,
Quite small, and yet
A solemn look was in his face.
One fiery eye this feline wore--
A waif he was of low degrees--
No gaudy dress
Did he possess,
Nor yet a handsome cat was he.
But lo, he smote that spurious king
And stripped him of his tinsel crown,
Then like the wind
Full close behind
He chased His Highness into town.
With cheers his subjects saw him come.
He did not pause--he did not stop,
But straight ahead
He wildly fled
Till he was safe within his shop.
He caught his breath and gazed about--
A sorry sight did he behold:
No catnip there
Or watchful care--
No mice and milk and joy of old.
[Illustration: QUOTH HE, "MY PRIDE IS SATISFIED; THIS KINGDOM BUSINESS
DOES NOT PAY"]
He heaved a sigh and dropped a tear--
He sent those idle clerks away--
Quoth he, "My pride
Is satisfied;
This kingdom business does not pay."
With care once more he runs his store,
His catnip all in canisters--
His milk and mice
All packed in ice,
And humbly serves his customers.
MR. 'POSSUM'S GREAT STORY
MR. 'POSSUM'S GREAT STORY
MR. 'POSSUM TELLS THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF THE 'POSSUM FAMILY, TO THE
SURPRISE OF HIS FRIENDS
"Now this," said the Story Teller, "is the story that Mr. Possum told
the Snowed-In Literary Club in the Hollow Tree. It must be a true story,
because Mr. 'Possum said so, and, besides, anybody that knows Mr.
'Possum would know that he could never in the world have made it up out
of his head."
The Little Lady doesn't quite like that.
"But Mr. 'Possum is smart," she says. "He knows ever so much."
"Oh yes, of course, and that's why he never _has_ to make up things. He
just tells what he knows, and this time he told
"HOW UNCLE SILAS AND AUNT MELISSY MOVED