“Downy now lamented her folly in having left her safe retreat in the meadow: what would she now have given to have been in her own little house under the mole hill? and she bitterly regretted ever having been tempted to quit it, for there no cats ever came, and there she had lived in innocence and happiness, whilst now she was doomed to fall a victim to the merciless claws of a hungry cat, who would devour her alive: she lay breathless! not a limb did she move, scarce did she even draw her breath, for the cat approached within a yard of the spot where she laid, and——” “Oh! poor Downy! (cried Alfred,) how sorry I am!—but, mamma, did that wicked cat kill her? do, dear mamma, make haste and tell me.”—“Why, Alfred,” said his mother, “you would not wait for me to tell you whether she was killed or not: Iam sure you could not feel sorry for the death of a nasty brown mouse; you hate mice, they are such little thieves.”—Little Alfred blushed at what his mother said, for he remembered they were his own words, and said to his mother, “Dear mamma, Ithink I will never wish for the death of any thing again, and I am very sorry I had that mouse killed; Iwill never kill another mouse, if it was to eat all the cakes you mean to give me when I am a good boy.” Mrs. Clifford not help smiling at her little boy, but wenton.—

cat with kitten

“The cat, as I said before, was close to the clodof earth on which luckless Downy stood, and when she believed her death certain, she had the inexpressible joy of finding that her motionless posture had been the means of saving her from the vigilant eyes of the cat, who passed on quite unconcerned without taking any notice of her prey. For an instant Downy could scarce credit her own eyes when she saw her enemy pass on; but fearing that if puss should return, she should not again escape so miraculously, she darted away as she hoped unseen, but, silly little thing! she had better have laid where she was, for the kitten beheld her as she ran, and sprung upon her. Poor Downy felt her claws, but exerting all her speed, she flew to the hedge—this friendly hedge which had so often been her refuge, and darting among the tangled roots of the hawthorn and ivy, left her pursuers far behind, and, exhausted with terror and fatigue, remained trembling and panting till she was half dead. Still she heard the mews of the disappointed kitten, and the angry purrs of the old cat—who sat watching about the bank for more than an hour, waiting to seize her if she ventured forth,* but that poor Downy was not in a condition to do, for her poor back still ached with the bruise the kitten had given her, and she felt in such a panic, she could not have stirred a step if she had seen a dozen cats. For two whole days poor little Downy thought she should have died, and when she was a little better and began to feel hungry, there was nothing for her to eat but hay seeds and ivy leaves, or the roots of the trees, and Downy, who had of late been used to such good fare, could not bear to eat such dry unpalatable food as this was.

“When she used to spend her time in labour and industry, she eat the hardest fare with an excellent appetite, and was thankful and contented with the least bit of any thing she got, but now she turned away disgusted at the coarse food, and it was not until pinched by hunger, that she would eat any of it. And now Downy began to consider within herself, whether it would not have been much better and wiser for her to have returned back to her own house in the meadow, instead of living so long in idleness and luxury; and Downy found that idleness brings its own punishment sooner or later, for had she been at home she would not have been so frightened by the cat, or nearly killed by the kitten; or even if a cat had come near her nice nest, she would have run away much faster than she did now, for being then smaller and thinner, she was much nimbler; nor was her daintiness the least evil that attended her long indulgence, and this she felt more severely now she was ill and could not go out to find good food; she had suffered so much with pain and terror, that she resolved never to go into the garden again, excepting to get provisions when in want. With a sad and penitent heart Downy once more returned to her old habitation, but, alas! what was her grief on beholding it a complete ruin; her nice warm nest all destroyed, and the pretty green mound quite spoiled! Downy was sadly vexed, for the cruel hay-makers had with their pitchforks torn open the turf and scattered her soft bed all round on the grass. She stood gazing with anguish on the desolate scene before her; here was all her spring work entirely ruined, and now she was ill and had no where to lay her head. ‘Ah!’ thought she, ‘if I had not spent so much time in doing nothing but eating and playing, Ishould have escaped the danger of being caught by the cat, and should not have been hurt by the kitten, besides which I think by this time I might have made up my nest, and have been quite comfortable again. She was hardly able to work, and what was far worse, she felt very great reluctance to begin her laborious task, so much harm had her living so long in indolence done her, as it does to every one who indulges in it. Remember, my little Alfred, that idleness is the root of all evil, as you may see in the case of Downy:—now which do you think was the happiest and best,—careful and industrious Downy making her house, and busily procuring food for herself against the winter,—or careless idle Downy doing nothing but playing and enjoying herself in the garden, eating the fruit, and sleeping among the flowers? now tell me, which do you like best of the two?” Alfred considered for a minute or two, and then said, “Why, dear mamma, though I should have liked to have eaten the nice things in the garden, and lived among the flowers, yet I see that it would have been better for Downy if she had always remained in the field and worked hard; but I am afraid I should have been as silly as Downy, and not liked work.”

“That is what I was afraid of, therefore, my dear child, Ithought it best to shew you how wrong she was in indulging herself in that manner; and be assured that, whoever does so, will fall into misfortune.

“Necessity obliged Downy at last to overcome her extreme reluctance to work, and she once more began to look out for a proper place for her new habitation; she visited all the green mounds in the meadow, but alas! they were occupied by the ant, and poor Downy was quite out of patience—and at last she was, though with reluctance, forced to take up her lodgings in the side of the garden bank, quite at the farther end, where no cats ever came, and at last, finding it was to her own interest to work, she resolved not to be idle any more, and laboured as hard as ever she had done, and soon completed her new dwelling, having made it a most commodious habitation, in which she lived very happily all the summer. When the harvest time arrived, then was Downy very busy; she went into a neighbouring wheat field, and there she made a good harvest for herself, and laid in a handsome store of grain for her winter supply. In her journeys to the corn-fields she met many mice, who, like her, were gathering in their winter stock of provisions; but Downy would not stay in the corn-fields, because she remembered the fate of her nest while she was gone in the garden, so she came home very regularly every night.

two mice

“Nothing of any consequence happened to Miss Downy till the latter end of the Autumn; for some days she had missed her provisions, but could not account for it in any way, and was at a loss to know who it could be that devoured the fruits of her daily labour, but one morning when she returned from gleaning in the stubble-fields, she was greatly surprised, on entering her house, to behold a young stranger busily employed in breakfasting in her granery; she stopped at the entrance of her house to examine her visitor, and was struck by the beauty of his form; he was of a reddish colour, his hair very long and thick, his breast and fore-feet of a pale buff, and his belly white; he had a nice round face, and small oval ears, with quick lively brown eyes and long handsome black whiskers; in short, he was the prettiest mouse Downy had ever seen, though he was a sad little thief, and had eaten a great deal of her store. He appeared at first much disconcerted at being disturbed and discovered in his depredation, and looked round on every side for an opening to escape at, but none appearing, he stood still, and scratched his ear with one of his hind feet, assuming as unconcerned an air as he could possibly put on; Downy was not sorry she had discovered who was the thief, but she soon forgave him, though she could not help thinking he was a very dishonest mouse to come every day and rob her as he had done, but he was so pretty, and made so humble an apology for his intruding into her house, that she could not find it in her heart to be angry with him long, and they soon became very good friends, and at last he proposed her taking him as a partner, which the simple Downy agreed to without hesitation, and shared her house and provisions with the handsome young stranger, who behaved with great decorum for some time, and was very careful to mind what Downy said to him, but at last he began to throw off his restraint, and was often getting into mischief in spite of the sage advice of Downy, who took great pains to warn him from such evil practices; but Silket would frisk in the garden, robbing the newly-planted bean and pea crops with the greatest audacity, not minding what careful Downy said, who represented to him the danger he run of being killed by cats, or mousehunts, or caught in traps; but Silket, like a naughty mouse as he was, only laughed and made light of her fears; and when at last she appeared vexed at his disobedience, he promised never to go into the garden again; but, like many more, he broke his promise directly he was out of her sight; and beside this, he was sadly idle, and was I am sorry to say, much fonder of play than work, and Downy was obliged to remonstrate with him on such bad behaviour, and said, ‘Silket, how can you expect me to work for both you and myself? you are a sad partner. Silket was very humble, and promised to be more industrious for the future, and that very afternoon he ransacked a new crop of peas, which the gardener had sown that day, and came home laden with the spoils; next day he brought home hoard of nuts from the garden, and Downy thought if he would but continue so good, she should be very happy, for her Silket was a very pretty creature, and she was very fond of him. But pretty creatures are not always the best, as she soon found to her cost, for when the weather set in cold, then Mr. Silket refused to work, or even to stir out of the house, but lay rolled round like a ball in the soft hay, and slept, only just getting up to eat; and Downy was much grieved, for she feared their stock of food would never last out the winter, if he did not help her make some addition to it, but Silket begged her not to be under any concern, for there was plenty for them both; and on her again expressing her fears on the subject, he gave her two or three severe bites on her ear, and squeaked most vehemently, shewing his anger at being found fault with, and then laid down again with a sulky air of displeasure; while poor Downy almost broken-hearted, slowly and full of sorrow, left her house, and strolled along the side of the bank quite disconsolate, and she resolved never to go back again to her ungrateful husband, who had treated her so unkindly, but leave him in quiet possession of her dwelling.

“Simple little Downy! she might have known beforehand how he would have treated her, as she was so well acquainted with his propensity to stealing, and she was a very foolish mouse to take for a partner one who shewed, from the first, that he liked better to play about and steal, than to labour and get an honest living. Downy ought to have considered all this, but she thought him so pretty, that she forgot all his misdeeds, and very imprudently shared her food and house with him. It is true, that he promised very fair, and said he would work for her, and that she should have nothing to do but just to eat, and sleep, and play; and Downy (who did not think that such a pretty soft creature could tell so many stories) believed all he said, and this was the consequence of her imprudence.

“So you see, Alfred, that we must not always judge by appearances, because I know rather a pretty creature, with bright blue eyes, who, like Silket, can steal, and tell fibs, and who likes to play better than learn a lesson and read.” Alfred coloured up, for he knew all along that his mother meant he was like Silket; so he felt a little ashamed, and did not make any answer; and his mother continued her story.

“Poor little Downy laid bewailing her sad misfortune in the cold damp grass, determining never to go home to her little tyrant again, so angry was she at his cruel conduct.—‘Ah! foolish mouse that I was, (said she), why did not I continue to live by myself when I was so happy! Imight have known how he would have behaved to me, but I will never return to him, he may enjoy by himself that food which he loves so much more than he does me, ungrateful that he is!’ In this manner she was uttering her complaints, when she heard a soft padding step behind her, and a mournful noise made her turn round, and she beheld her penitent Silket, (for it was him) who advancing with a sorrowful air, humbly besought her forgiveness, and rubbed his velvet cheek in an imploring manner against her’s; his lively brown eyes were now troubled, and very sorrowful. Downy could not resist his beseeching looks, but forgave him for all his past offences, and took him once more into favour, on his promising to be good in future and never to bite her ears or tail again. Silket was very sorry for his late bad behaviour, and he resolved to be very good and do so no more, for he did love Downy very much, though he loved himself better. He accompanied her home with great affection, and they were happier for some weeks than they had ever been before; he was so attentive and kind, and seemed to study only to please her; he spent day after day in searching among the dry leaves in the garden for filberts; and when he could not procure any thing else, he brought her crocus roots, and carrots out of the garden.

One evening he had been out later than usual, he did not see Downy’s bright eyes looking out from among the dry leaves and moss for his return, and he was fearful some ill had befallen her. As he approached the house, he thought he heard several little squeaking sounds, and on entering his nest, found that Downy in his absence had become the mother of four ittle helpless blind mice, which she was suckling. Silket was overjoyed, he licked the little ones with much affection, and behaved with the greatest tenderness to Downy; he presented her the filbert he had brought home, and praised the beauty of his little family, though none but himself could see that they possessed any, for little mice are very ugly till they can open their eyes, and have got fur on them; for like puppies, and kittens, and rabbits, they are all born blind, and do not open their eyes for many days after.

No mouse could behave better than Silket now did; he would not suffer Downy to stir out in the cold, on any account, for, though it was the latter end of March, the weather was unusually severe, and the frost very hard; Silket was out almost the whole day searching for nice food for Downy, and getting soft moss to keep his young ones warm,—but one day he grieved Downy much and did a deal of mischief,—he wanted something to cover his little ones with, and what did he do, but went into the garden to the hedge where Mrs. Ball had hung out her linen to dry, and the wicked Silket gnawed and bit one of the old lady’s white aprons almost to pieces, carrying home as many of the rags as his mouth would hold, to his house. Downy was sadly vexed when she heard what he had been doing, and she was forced to read him a very long lecture on being so mischievous, while Mr. Mischief amused himself by laying the rags out to the greatest advantage, admiring the white quilt he had brought home for his little ones’ bed, and secretly resolving to go and fetch the remaining fragments, and though he saw how grave Downy looked, he did not think he had done so much harm in biting the old lady’s apron; so he cast a cunning eye at Downy, to see if she was observing him, for he wanted sadly to get the rest of the apron, only he did not like to disoblige her commands, and get another scolding; but she saw what he was after, and she begged him not to go, for she said, she knew that such mischievous ways would come to no good end, and that he would get caught in a trap, or killed by some cat, or fall into some great danger, ‘And, (added she,) what should I do, Silket, left with these four helpless little mice to provide for?’ Silket immediately saw the impropriety of his conduct, and he never spoiled any more of good Mrs. Ball’s linen, though he often came in the way of it. The poor old lady was greatly disturbed at the misfortune which had befallen her best muslin apron, and threatened to have the ratcatcher’s dogs and ferrets to hunt the garden and the hedge, if any thing more was destroyed; so that it was a good thing that Silket took Downy’s advice in that respect, or he would certainly have been killed for his pains.

“At the end of three weeks the little mice began to be quite lively, and to grow very pretty little creatures; they much resembled their father in his mischeivous inclinations, and it needed all Downy’s prudent management to keep them in order, for they would frisk out of their nest, and scud about in the meadow, going so for out of sight, and staying so late, that Downy was in a great fright lest any mishap should befall them, as to Silket, he seemed to take great delight in their pranks.

They would lay on the bank, enjoying themselves and basking in the sun, almost all day long. When it was fine weather, sometimes, one bolder than the rest would run up a little tree not more than a yard high, and clinging to the top, look down with triumph on his companions; then, if he heard the dead leaves shake, the timid little thing whisked down, and away they all four scudded, hiding themselves in the holes of the hedge, till they thought the danger past.

Downy now began to feel the cares of a family, and she was often much grieved at the disobedient behaviour of the little mice. Velvet was the only good-behaved one, and she was bad enough in all reason. They were incorrigible little thieves, which quality they inherited from their father, for no sooner were their parents out of the way, than they found their way to the granary, and though Downy and Silket were all day busied in getting food for them, and fed them with the best of every thing, the wicked little things stole the corn, and eat even more than they wanted; they grew so fat and sleek and wanton, that all the field-mice in the meadow declared they were quite spoiled, and Downy ought to keep them under more restraint, and punish them when they behaved ill. As they grew older they grew worse and worse; Downy had warned them of all the dangers which they ran in roaming so far from home, and told them of the cat that haunted the garden, and of the mousehunt, and the great white owl, but these bad mice paid no attention to what their kind good mother said to them.

“Among other things, she begged them not to go near the brick traps which the gardener had set among the beans and peas, to entice simple mice to eat the bait, and then they were sure to be killed, by the trap falling on them; but they did not regard those prudent counsels in the least, and a day or two after, they all sallied out into the garden, (with Whitefoot, their leader) in search of something nice. After they had rummaged the ground under the nut-tree for some time without finding a single nut, they came to a row of late-sown peas; these they made a terrible havoc amongst, regardless of their mother’s advice. They were going home, well pleased with their regale, when, unluckily, Whitefoot espied a parcel of nice wheat, laid out very carefully under a sort of brick house; now Whitefoot run all roundit and thought it stood too firm to be knocked down, and as he was rather greedy, he determined to venture under, and eat up the wheat; he was in such a hurry, for fear that either of his companions should come and want to share his prize, that, in his haste, he pushed down a bit of a stick which held the brick up—down it fell, and hapless Whitefoot was crushed to death in an instant.

farmer giving dead mouse to cat

“This was the effects of his disobedience to his mother.

“The noise of the fallen brick alarmed the timid little mice; away they ran as fast as they could, nor did they once stop to look behind to see what had become of their brother Whitefoot, who was found next morning by the gardener, under the brick, and was given to the black cat to eat. Now had he minded what his mother had told him the day before, he would have been alive and frisking about with the rest. See, Alfred, what comes of disobedience and greediness.” said his mother. “Yes, mamma, (said Alfred) Iwill remember how poor Whitefoot was served, and not disobey you, though you know, Icould not be killed by a brick trap as he was.” “No, Alfred, but you might get hurt in a hundred different ways by going where I bid you not—recollect when I had so often told you not to play with the fire, how you burnt your hand, by lighting bits of paper; and if I had not come in, you would have been burnt to death.” “Yes, mamma, and it hurt me so much, Ihave never done it since.” “No more would Whitefoot have gone near a trap again, if he had only broken one of his limbs, instead of being killed, but he should have minded what was said at first. But you shall hear how the others behaved after his death.

“Downy was much shocked at the death of her poor Whitefoot, and she told the other little mice to take warning by their brother’s sad fate, and not go near any more brick traps, but be contented with the food which she and their father provided for them. This they promised to do, and they were very sorry for the loss of Whitefoot, who was the most nimble of them all, and at the head of all their pranks, for he was usually the ring-leader and the most daring of the party.

“For a few days they were more orderly, but their bad habits returned again, and they forgot all their promises, and were as naughty as ever they had been—even Silket was shocked at them, and was forced to chastise the two most unruly, by biting their ears. Wilful run away, and came to a most untimely death.—He invaded, one night, abee-hive, and made great havoc in the stores of honey, eating the honey-combs, and destroying the work of the poor bees—but at last he was punished severely, for the bees, enraged at his lawless conduct, came in a body, and stung their enemy in a thousand different places, so that, unable to escape, he died in great agony.”

“And did bees ever sting a mouse to death in that manner, mamma?” asked Alfred. “Yes, Alfred, and if you are a good boy, Iwill read you a long account of bees, and how they build their cells, and make their wax and honey.” “But, mamma, there is nothing about their killing a mouse in it, is there?” “Yes, my dear child, Iwill tell you all about it one day, but let me finish my story first.”