Five Mice in a Mouse-trap, by the Man in the Moon.

CHAPTER VIII.

A STORY CHAPTER

It was quite late one evening when I slipped in at a window in the Mouse-trap, to pay a visit to Nibble and Brighteyes. Nibble's bed, a most intelligent piece of furniture, walked in from the other room of its own accord, as soon as I appeared, so I had not even the trouble of calling it. As for the two mice, they fairly squeaked with delight when they saw me. "Oh! Mr. Moonman!" they cried, "we thought you were never coming again! where have you been all this long, long time?"

"It is only a week since I last came, little mice!" I replied; "and indeed, I should have been here oftener, but two of my pet children have been ill, and I have been telling them stories every night, to make the time pass more quickly."

"Oh! tell us about them, and tell us their names, and tell us the stories you told them!" cried Brighteyes eagerly.

"And take us on another journey, oh! please!" added Nibble, jumping up and down, with excitement.

"How is a poor Moonman to do everything at once?" I inquired. "In the first place, there will be no traveling to-night, let me tell you. A very disagreeable Wind has the watch to-night, and I would not trust you in his hands. Yes, he is a detestable fellow, very different from our seven little friends of the other night. He actually tried to blow out my lantern, which is a piece of impudence I have seldom met with. You shall hear a story about him if you will, for only last night I was telling one to Marie and Emil."

"Yes! yes!" cried the mice; "we should like it above all things. But first tell us a little about Marie and Emil. Are they the two children who have been ill?"

"Yes," I replied; "they are French children, and they live in a sea-board town in the south of France, – that is, they live there about half the time: the other half they spend on the water, in their father's yacht. Their father is a rich man, who has a passion for the sea, and likes to spend most of his time on it: and he takes his little boy and girl with him on many of his yacht voyages, for they are as fond of the water as he is, and they have no mother."

"Oh!" sighed Nibble, "I wish Uncle Jack had a yacht, and a passion for the sea!"

"That would be admirable!" said I. "Two children on a yacht are all very well, but if there were five, the captain and all the crew would jump overboard and drown themselves, I fancy. Certainly, Marie and Emil are very happy on board the Victoria. Marie has a cabin of her own, the prettiest little room you can imagine, where she sits and reads, or swings in her hammock, when she is tired of staying on deck. The sailors are all devoted to them, and now that they are ill on shore, the big captain, Jacques Legros, goes every day up to the house, to ask if 'the little angels are better?'"

"What is the matter with them?" asked Brighteyes; "and shall we have the story now, if you please?"

"You shall have the story now!" I said, "and they have had the scarlet fever, but are doing very well. Hear that angry Wind outside! how he howls, and shakes the window-frame. He knows that I am going to tell you about his misdeeds. Howl away, my friend; you can do us no harm. So then I told the mice the following story. First, however, I showed them a picture of Marie, which I happened to have in my pocket. They thought she was a very pretty little girl. What do you think?"

THE STORY OF THE WIND

The great Tree stood out in the green meadow, all alone. No other trees dared to come near him, he was so strong, and tall, and grand; but for all that, he was kind and gentle, and never would hurt anything. One morning the great Tree awoke from his long winter sleep, and found the snow all gone, and the sun shining bright and warm as if it were June instead of the first of April. On his branches were sitting a flock of little birds, and it was their chirping and twittering that had waked him. "Chippity-wippity pip pip, cheepy peepy weep wee-e-e!" they said; and that meant "Wake up, old Tree! Spring has sent us to call you. She is coming directly, and she wants you to get your leaves out as soon as possible, as she has forgotten her parasol, and wants some shade for her pretty head."

The great Tree nodded his head, and said, "Tell my lady Spring that I will be ready." And then he shook his branches, and called out, "Little leaves, little children, open your buds and come out! come out!" And one by one the little buds with which the branches were covered opened, and out popped the little leaves. At first they shivered, and wished themselves back in their warm little houses; but the old Tree spoke kindly to them, and then the sunbeams came and kissed them, so that they felt quite happy, and even began to dance about a little on the branches. And they said to each other, "How foolish we were, to think of shutting ourselves up again in those close houses. Here we shall be free and happy, and we will dance all day and all night."

Just then they heard a soft voice whispering, "Little leaves, lovely leaves, will you not dance with me?" And the little leaves said, "Who are you, that whispers so softly?" And the voice answered, "I am the Wind, and I have come to be your playfellow. I can sing, too, and sweetly, and we shall all be happy together." So the Wind sang them a low, sweet song; and then he danced with them, and kissed them gently, and played with them; and they all said, "Oh, dear, gentle Wind, how charming you are! will you not play with us every day, and make us happy?"

But after the Wind had flown away, the old Tree called to them and said, "My children, beware of the Wind, for he is not to be trusted. Soft and gentle he is to-day, but to-morrow he may be fierce and terrible. Play with him and dance with him, but be always on your guard." And the little leaves nodded their little heads, and answered, "Yes, good father, we will be careful."

Well, for many days the Wind came to play with the leaves, and every day they thought him more delightful. Such wonderful stories as he told them! of all the strange countries he had seen in his wanderings; the beautiful tropical islands, where he slept all day in the palm-tree tops, just waking in the evening to fan the cheeks of the dark-eyed southern ladies for an hour, and then sinking to sleep again under the shining stars; and the terrible northern seas, with their fleets of icebergs, whose pilot he loved to be, guiding them hither and thither, tossing the waves about, and sporting with the seals and walruses on the flat ice-cakes. "And some day, little leaves," he said, "you shall go with me to see these wonders; not to the arctic seas, for you are too tender and delicate to bear the cold; but away to the south, to the coral islands and the orange-groves. There you will see all the beauty of the world, and will laugh at the thought of having been content in this dull meadow, with its stupid daisies and buttercups, and its paltry little brook. Also you will find many cousins there, leaves such as you never dreamed of, wonderful in size and shape and color. Say, then, little playmates, will you come with me, and see all these beautiful things, and many more?"

But the leaves shook their little heads, and said, "No, dear Wind! we love you, and it would be delightful to go with you, but we cannot leave our father Tree, who is so kind to us, and loves us so dearly."

At first the Wind seemed angry, but soon he smiled and said, "Never mind! some day you will come, – some day!" and away he flew. But oh! the next time he came, what a different Wind he was! no longer gentle, playful, caressing, but fierce, and rough, and stormy. He rushed at the great Tree, howling furiously. He seized the little leaves, and whirled and dashed them about, trying to tear them from the branches; and flung himself against the Tree, as if he would even loose his rooted hold on the ground. But the leaves clung closer and closer, trembling and shivering; and the great Tree braced himself, and met the fierce blast bravely, never losing an inch of his foothold, and giving back blow for blow with his long powerful arms. At last the Wind was tired and flew away, howling and moaning with anger and disappointment. The little leaves were sadly frightened, but their father Tree comforted them, and said, "Courage, my children! I have fought many a battle with the Wind, and he has never beaten me yet. Only be brave and faithful, and he cannot overcome you."

At first the leaves thought they never wanted to see or hear the Wind again; but a few days after, to their great surprise, he came again, soft and gentle, as he had used to be, and he kissed them and sang to them, and begged them to forgive his wicked temper, and play with him once more. He was so charming that they soon forgave him, and soon forgot all about the storm. And they danced and frolicked about gayly, and listened again to the marvelous tales of far-off countries, of palm-groves and coral islands.

So the time went on and on. The Lady Spring had gathered her green robes about her and passed on, and her children, the wildwood blossoms, had followed her; and now Lady Summer, who had come in her stead, with her arms full of peaches and pears, and her gown covered with lovely garden flowers, was almost ready to depart, and stayed lingering, calling and beckoning to her brother Autumn, who was following very slowly. The leaves on the great Tree had been very happy during Lady Summer's reign. Many a time, it is true, the Wind had been angry with them, because they refused to go away with him, and again and again he had raged and stormed, and tried to tear them away from their happy home. But he was always very sorry after these fits of passion, and they always forgave him readily, for they loved him dearly.

One night, one clear, lovely night, when all things were sleeping in the moonlight, the Wind came and whispered to the leaves. So softly he came, and so softly he spoke, that they did not wake at first, and he had to kiss them all before he could rouse them from their sleep. "Hush, darlings!" he said. "You must not wake the old Tree, for I have a secret to tell you which he must not hear. Something very wonderful is going to happen, and I have come to tell you about it." "What is it, dear Wind? oh, what is it?" whispered the little leaves. And they clustered together and listened. "Well, my darlings," said the Wind, "a very great personage is going to pass through this part of the country to-morrow night. No less a personage than the celebrated Frost, the court painter of the great King Winter. He is one of the most famous painters in the world, but he is also a great friend of mine; and though he is in a hurry to join his royal master, who has now left his Arctic kingdom, and is traveling southward, he has kindly consented to do a great favor for you, my darlings, because I have told him how dearly I love you."

"What is it, dear Wind? oh, what is it?" asked the little leaves again.

"Well," said the Wind, "I know you must be very tired of these dull green dresses. They were well enough in the spring, when they were new and fresh, but now you have been wearing them all summer, and they are dirty and soiled. So I have persuaded my friend Frost to stop here on his way through the meadow, and to paint you all over, with fresh, new, beautiful colors. Only think of it, darlings! think how lovely you will look, all shining in crimson and gold! Now, am I not a good friend? and will you not all give me kisses for this?"

"Oh yes! yes indeed, you good Wind!" cried the leaves. "We will give you as many kisses as you want, and we will thank you till you are tired of being thanked. Oh! how delightful it will be!" and they danced about and about, and they kissed the Wind, and he kissed them.

"And now, good-night!" he said. "Remember, not a word of this to the old Tree, for it would be a pity to rob him of the pleasure of such a charming surprise."

He flew away, but the leaves were too happy to go to sleep again. They whispered and chattered all night about their new dresses. This one would have yellow, and that one would have pink, and that one scarlet, while some of the older ones preferred a rich golden russet. And when morning came, they were still whispering and chattering, and could think of nothing else all day.

At last the wished-for night came; and a beautiful night it was, very cool, but perfectly still, and brilliant with moonlight and starlight. The little leaves waited and waited, till they were, oh! so sleepy! but no one came. At length, when their eyes were closing in spite of themselves, they felt a sudden cold strike them, a cold so intense that it almost took away their breath. They looked up, and saw advancing over the meadow towards them, a strange figure which they knew in a moment must be that of the great Frost. He was very tall and thin, and very pale; and his long robe, and his hair, and his long curling moustaches, looked exactly like silver. Indeed, there was a silvery glitter all about and around him, and as he passed lightly over the grass, it too seemed to them to silver under his feet. He came straight on, came to the tree. Then, without speaking a word, he drew out a long silver brush which had been hidden beneath his robe, and a palette covered with brilliant colors, and began to paint the leaves. But oh! what a deadly chill struck through them when the silver brush touched them. Cold, cold, cold! and a kind of numbness, and a heavy drowsiness, began to creep over them. But when they saw the gorgeous beauty of their new dresses, they were very proud, and tried to hold themselves up, and not to give way to this strange weakness and faintness. And at last, oh! at last, the final touch was given, and with one cold farewell glance from his bright, sharp eyes, the court painter of the great King Winter passed on over the meadow.

Soon morning broke, and the leaves, waking from their brief and uneasy slumber, looked around to see the splendor in which they were arrayed. How the sun stared at them, when he rose. He sent down a special sunbeam to give them his compliments and to say that he had never seen them look so charming. Oh! very proud were the little leaves, and very happy, they thought; but somehow they did not feel at all well. The day was bright and warm, and yet they were so cold, so cold! and the numbness and weakness still seemed creeping over them, and would not now be shaken off. And now the great Tree awoke, (for he was apt to sleep late, being very old.) But instead of being pleased, as his children thought he would be, when he saw their fine appearance, he sighed and wept.

"Ah, my children!" he said; "my poor unhappy children! I see what has happened. You have listened to the Wind, and the Frost has been with you; and now you will leave me, and I shall be alone again, as I have been so many, many years."

"Oh, no! no! Father Tree," cried the leaves, "we will stay with you always."

But the old Tree shook his head, and said, "No, my children! it is too late. You cannot choose now whether you will go or stay, and soon, soon I shall be left alone."

The little leaves did not understand this, and they tried to forget the sad words, and to be happy with their fine new dresses. But still they were so cold, so cold! and still the drowsy numbness kept creeping, creeping over them, and each day they became weaker and weaker. And one day, oh! one fearful day, the Wind came. Fiercely and furiously he flew across the meadow, savagely he rushed at the great Tree. "Now," he howled, "now, little leaves, will you come with me? ha! ha! now will you come?" he clutched the leaves, and they shivered and moaned, and clung to the branches. But alas! their strength was gone, they could no longer resist the blast: and in a moment they were whirled away and away, borne hither and thither on the wings of the mighty Wind, and at last dashed down on the earth, to shiver and die in the cold.

And once more the great Tree stood alone in the meadow.

CHAPTER IX.

A PICNIC

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!"

"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 José, 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, José!" cried Nibble, "Hi! go on, sir!" But José 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 José 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.

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!

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.

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.

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 José 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. José was not to be seen.

"Well, Nibble, my boy, what has happened?" asked Uncle Jack, cheerily. "Has José 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 José 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."