MR. RABBIT STARTS SOME NEW AMUs.e.m.e.nTS

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. 'c.o.o.n 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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. 'c.o.o.n, 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 "p.u.s.s.y 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 "b.u.t.ton! b.u.t.ton! Who's Got the b.u.t.ton?" and n.o.body could tell when Mr. 'Possum had the b.u.t.ton, 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 b.u.t.ton 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WOULD FIND IT ON THE MANTEL-SHELF OR PERHAPS ON MR.

CROW'S BALD HEAD]

It was a trick where he laid the b.u.t.ton 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 b.u.t.ton 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 b.u.t.ton 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 b.u.t.ton 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 b.u.t.ton 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 b.u.t.ton-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 n.o.body 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 '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

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