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
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 "c.o.o.n who milked cows. And the Fox watched him milk, and pretty soon he said: "What pleasant work that _is_! Let _me_ milk." So the "c.o.o.n 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 "c.o.o.n 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 _"c.o.o.n_ 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?
[Ill.u.s.tration: 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.
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."
[Ill.u.s.tration: AND SO THIS CAT CREW RICH AND FAT]
[Ill.u.s.tration]
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.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
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.
[Ill.u.s.tration: HIS CLERKS]
Mice, milk, and catnip did he scorn; He went to business less and less-- And everywhere He wore an air Of arrogance and haughtiness.
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.
[Ill.u.s.tration: A SOLEMN LOOK WAS IN HIS FACE]
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.
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.