Mouser Cat's Story Part 2

MR. CROW'S FANCY.

"What did he mean by saying Mr. Crow was right?"

"Oh, that was on account of a piece of poetry he wrote about me. There isn't much of it, and perhaps you had just as soon I would repeat it."

Then, without waiting for permission, Mrs. Mouser recited the following:

Some people love the gay giraffe Because his antics make them laugh (I've never found him witty), Others prefer the c.o.c.katoo-- He does things I should hate to do; He's vulgar--more's the pity!

An ostrich draws admiring throngs Whenever he sings his comic songs, And, really, it's no wonder!

The dormouse has been highly rated (and justly) for his celebrated Mimicking of thunder.

I know some friends who'd journey miles To see a bat's face wreathed in smiles, They say it's grandly funny!

To see a buzzard drink port wine Another eager friend of mine Would pay no end of money.

But that which most appeals to me-- I know my taste may curious be-- Is--not a mouse in mittens.

It is to see a homely cat, Dressed up in an old battered hat, A-walking with her kittens!

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mrs. Tabby and Her Kittens.]

"One would think from the verses, that you and Mr. Crow were very good friends," your Aunt Amy suggested, and Mrs. Mouser said with a purr of content:

"We have always got along very well together, and I hope we always shall, for really, say what you please about that old bird, it wouldn't be pleasant to have him making sport of you in his verses. We are neither of us as much in love with ourselves as were the peac.o.c.k and the crane, therefore I don't fancy we shall ever have any very serious trouble."

A QUESTION OF BEAUTY.

"What about the peac.o.c.k and the crane?" your Aunt Amy asked, not disposed to let slip any opportunity of hearing a story.

"Oh, that's something very, very old--why, my grandmother used to tell about it. You know the crane thinks he has got a pretty tail, and I'm not saying anything against it, for it is handsome; but this crane my grandmother used to tell about, had the idea that he was the finest looking bird who ever came out of an egg. He went around making a good deal of such talk as that, and one day he met with a peac.o.c.k for the first time. Strangely enough, he had never heard about such a bird, so he strutted back and forth as usual, and after they had talked a while of the weather, and all that sort of thing, Mr. Crane said:

[Ill.u.s.tration: As Mr. Peac.o.c.k spread his tail, Mr. Crane flew off in disgust]

"'People tell me I am one of the handsomest birds that ever lived.

There's nothing in this world that quite comes up to my tail feathers, and that much I can say without risk of being thought vain.'

"'You have some very pretty feathers,' Mr. Peac.o.c.k said, keeping his own tail folded up so it couldn't be seen very well. 'But do you really think they are more beautiful than can be found on any other bird?'

"'I don't _think_ so, I know it,' Mr. Crane said, spreading the long plumes of his tail out so they would show to the best advantage, and just then Mr. Peac.o.c.k unfolded his tail to its full size.

"If you ever saw an astonished bird, it was Mr. Crane. He looked at the beautiful feathers spread out like a great, big fan, and then started to fly away.

"'Where are you going?' Mr. Peac.o.c.k asked.

"And Mr. Crane answered, while he was in the air:

"'Off somewhere to hide until I have got sense enough to hold my tongue when I don't know what I'm talking about.'

"Since that time I have never heard any of the cranes doing very much bragging, and it is a pity that there are yet others around this place who ought to get just such a lesson, for many of the animals here need it sadly."

"You among the rest?" your Aunt Amy asked laughingly, and Mrs. Mouser Cat replied:

"Thank goodness, I am not proud, and perhaps it is because I haven't very much to take pride in. But I have lived long enough in this world to know that one of us is of just about as much importance as another, and the animal or the bird who thinks this world couldn't move very well without him, is making a big mistake. There is n.o.body whose place cannot be filled when it becomes necessary; there would even be somebody to run this farm as well as Mr. Man does, if he should die to-morrow."

MENAGERIE POETRY.

"What I have in mind is told, in a foolish kind of a way, I suppose, by Mr. Crow, who wrote the verses when Mr. Man's little girl Dolly wanted a pet, and no matter how much she thought of one, if it died, or got lost, the next that came along suited her almost as well.

"Of course I don't want you to suppose I think this is anything but nonsense; but at the same time it carries out the idea of what I have been trying to say," and then Mrs. Mouser repeated the following:

I once possessed an Elephant Who fed on potted grouse; One day I lost him, but I think He's somewhere in the house.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Delicate Pet.]

I had a Hippopotamus Who really was quite slim; He caught a chill, and so I thought I'd best get rid of him.

I also had a gay Giraffe, Whose antics made me wince; He went a walk to Brooklyn town, I've never seen him since.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Pet Who Went to Brooklyn.]

The Puffing Fish that I possessed Would fill my heart with pride; But ah! one day I made a joke-- He laughed so that he died.

You should have seen my Polar Bear, He was a lively beast; But what became of him at last I've no idea, the least.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Very Sociable Pet.]

My Grizzly Bear was certainly By all my friends admired.

He tried to climb the Monument, And when he failed, expired.

Perhaps the dearest of them all Was James, my c.o.c.katoo-- He took to stopping out at nights; I gave him to the Zoo

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Lively Pet]

So now I haven't anything; It's lonely, I must own.

I'll get a little calf, I think-- I cannot live alone!

"I don't wonder you call that 'Menagerie Poetry,'" your Aunt Amy said when Mrs. Mouser ceased speaking; "but I think I understood, even without the aid of the verses, the moral you intended to draw."