The Hollow Tree Snowed-in Book Part 1

The Hollow Tree Snowed-in Book.

by Albert Bigelow Paine.

EXPLANATION OF MAP

THE top of the map is South. This is always so with the Hollow Tree People. The cross on the shelf below the edge of the world (where the ladder is) is where Mr. Dog landed, and the ladder is the one brought by Mr. Man for him to climb back on. The tree that Mr. Man cut down shows too. The spot on the edge of the world is where the Hollow Tree People sometimes sit and hang their feet over, and talk. A good many paths show, but not all by a good deal. The bridge and plank near Mr. Turtle's house lead to the Wide Gra.s.s Lands and Big West Hills. The spots along the Foot Race show where Grandpaw Hare stopped, and the one across the fence shows where Mr. Turtle landed. Most of the other things tell what they are, and all the things are a good deal farther apart than they look. Of course there was not room on the map for everything.

TO FRIENDS OLD AND NEW

I WONDER if you have ever heard a story which begins like this: "Once upon a time, in the far depths of the Big Deep Woods, there was a Big Hollow Tree with three hollow branches. In one of these there lived a 'c.o.o.n, in another a 'Possum, and in the third a Big Black Crow."

That was the way the first story began in a book which told about the Hollow Tree People and their friends of the Big Deep Woods who used to visit them, and how they all used to sit around the table, or by the fire, in the parlor-room down-stairs, where they kept most of their things, and ate and talked and had good times together, just like folk.[A]

And the stories were told to the Little Lady by the Story Teller, and there were pictures made for them by the Artist, and it was all a long time ago--so long ago that the Little Lady has grown to be almost a big lady now, able to read stories for herself, and to write them, too, sometimes.

But the Story Teller and the Artist did not grow any older. The years do not make any difference to them. Like the Hollow Tree People they remain always the same, for though to see them you might think by their faces and the silver glint in their hair that they are older, it would not be so, because these things are only a kind of enchantment, made to deceive, when all the time they are really with the Hollow Tree People in the Big Deep Woods, where years and enchantments do not count. It was only Mr. Dog, because he lived too much with Mr. Man, who grew old and went away to that Far Land of Evening which lies beyond the sunset, taking so many of the Hollow Tree stories with him. We thought these stories were lost for good when Mr. Dog left us, but that was not true, for there came another Mr. Dog--a nephew of our old friend--and he grew up brave and handsome, and learned the ways of the Hollow Tree People, and their stories, and all the old tales which the first Mr. Dog did not tell.

And now, too, there is another Little Lady--almost exactly like the first Little Lady--and it may be that it is this Little Lady, after all, who keeps the Artist and the Story Teller young, for when she thought they might be growing older, and forgetting, she went with them away from the House of Many Windows, in the city, to the House of Low Ceilings and Wide Fireplaces--a queer old house like Mr. Rabbit's--built within the very borders of the Big Deep Woods, where they could be always close to Mr. 'c.o.o.n and Mr. 'Possum and the Old Black Crow, and all the others, and so learn all the new tales of the Hollow Tree.

FOOTNOTE:

[A] _The Hollow Tree and Deep Woods Book_, by the same author and artist.

THE FIRST SNOWED-IN STORY

[Ill.u.s.tration: GATHERING NICE PIECES OF WOOD]

IN WHICH THE READER LEARNS TO KNOW THE HOLLOW TREE PEOPLE AND THEIR FRIENDS, AND THE LITTLE LADY, AND THE STORY TELLER

NOW this is the beginning of the Hollow Tree stories which the Story Teller told the Little Lady in the queer old house which stands in the very borders of the Big Deep Woods itself. They were told in the Room of the Lowest Ceiling and the Widest Fire--a ceiling so low that when the Story Teller stands upright it brushes his hair as he walks, and a fire so deep that pieces of large trees do not need to be split but can be put on whole. In the old days, several great-grandfathers back, as the Hollow Tree People might say, these heavy sticks were drawn in by a horse that came right through the door and dragged the wood to the wide stone hearth.

It is at the end of New-Year's Day, and the Little Lady has been enjoying her holidays, for Santa Claus found his way down the big stone chimney and left a number of things she wanted. Now, when the night is coming down outside, and when inside there is a heap of blazing logs and a rocking-chair, it is time for the Story Teller. The Story Teller generally smokes and looks into the fire when he tells a Hollow Tree story, because the Hollow Tree People always smoke and look into the fire when _they_ tell _their_ stories, and the Little Lady likes everything to be "just the same," and the stories must be always told just the same, too. If they are not, she stops the Story Teller and sets him right. So while the Little Woman pa.s.ses to and fro, putting away the tea-things, the Story Teller lights his pipe, and rocks, and looks into the fire, and holds the Little Lady close, and begins the Tales of the Hollow Tree.

"Once upon a time," he begins--

"Once upon a time," murmurs the Little Lady, settling herself.

"Yes, once upon a time, in the old days of the Hollow Tree, when Mr. Dog had become friends with the 'c.o.o.n and the 'Possum and the Old Black Crow who lived in the three hollow branches of the Big Hollow Tree, and used to meet together in their parlor-room down-stairs and invite all their friends, and have good times together, just like folk--"

"But they live there now, don't they?" interrupts the Little Lady, suddenly sitting up, "and still have their friends, just the same?"

"Oh yes, of course, but this was one of the old times, you know."

The Little Lady settles back, satisfied.

"Go on telling, now," she says.

"Well, then, this was one of the times when all the Deep Woods People had been invited to the Hollow Tree for Christmas Day, and were snowed in. Of course they didn't expect to be snowed in. n.o.body ever expects to be snowed in till it happens, and then it's too late."

"Was that the Christmas that Mr. Dog played Santa Claus and brought all the presents, and Mr. Squirrel and Mr. Robin and Mr. Turtle and Jack Rabbit came over, and they all sat around the fire and ate things and told nice stories? You said you would tell about that, and you never did."

"I am going to tell it now, as soon as a Little Lady gets real still,"

says the Story Teller. So then the Little Lady _is_ "real still," and he tells the first snowed-in story, which is called:

MR. DOG AT THE CIRCUS

THE HOLLOW TREE PEOPLE LEARN SOMETHING VERY IMPORTANT ABOUT SHOWS

THAT was a great Christmas in the Hollow Tree. The 'c.o.o.n and the 'Possum and the Old Black Crow had been getting ready for it for a long time, and brought in ever so many nice things to eat, which Mr. Crow had cooked for them, for Mr. Crow is the best cook of anybody in the Big Deep Woods. Then Mr. Dog had brought a lot of good things, too, which he had borrowed from Mr. Man's house, so they had the finest Christmas dinner that you can think of, and plenty for the next day when it would be even better, because chicken and turkey and dressing and such things are always better the next day, and even the _third_ day, with gravy, than they are when they are first cooked.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PANTRY IN THE HOLLOW TREE]

Then, when they were all through and were standing around, smoking their new pipes and looking at each other's new neckties and other Christmas things, Mr. Crow said that he and Mr. Squirrel would clear off the table if the others would get in some wood and stir up the fire and set the room to rights, so they could gather round and be comfortable by-and-by; and then, he said, it might snow as much as it liked as long as they had plenty of wood and things to eat inside.

So then they all skurried around getting on their things to go out after wood--all except Mr. Crow and Mr. Squirrel, who set about clearing off the table and doing up the dishes. And pretty soon Mr. Dog and Mr. 'c.o.o.n and the rest were hopping about where the snow was falling so soft and silent among the big, leafless trees, gathering nice pieces of wood and brushing the snow off of them and piling them into the first down-stairs of the Hollow Tree, which the 'c.o.o.n and 'Possum and Old Black Crow use for their wood-house and general store-room. It was great fun, and they didn't feel the least bit cold after their warm dinner and with all that brisk exercise.

Mr. Robin didn't help carry the wood in. He was hardly strong enough for that, but he hopped about and looked for good pieces, and when he found one he would call to Mr. 'c.o.o.n or Mr. 'Possum, or maybe to one of the others, to throw it on his shoulder and carry it in, and then he would tell whoever it happened to be how strong he was and how fine he looked with that great chunk on his shoulder, and would say that he didn't suppose there was another 'c.o.o.n, or 'Possum, or Turtle, or Rabbit, or Dog that could begin to stand up straight under such a chunk as that anywhere outside of a menagerie. Mr. Robin likes to say pleasant things to his friends, and is always popular. And each one tried to carry the biggest load of wood to show how strong he was, and pretty soon they had the lower room of the Hollow Tree piled up high with the finest chunks and kindling pieces to be found anywhere. Then they all hurried up-stairs, stamping the snow off their feet, and gathered around the nice warm fire in the big parlor which was just below the three big hollow branches where the 'c.o.o.n and 'Possum and the Old Black Crow had their rooms.

Mr. Crow and Mr. Squirrel were through with the table by this time, and all hands lit their pipes, and looked into the fire, and smoked, and rested, and thought a little before they began talking--thinking, of course, of what a good time they were having, and how comfortable and nice it was to be inside and warm when such a big snow was falling outside.

Mr. 'Possum was the first one to say anything. He said he had been thinking of what Mr. Robin had said about them being outside of a menagerie, and that, come to think about it, he believed he didn't know what a menagerie was, unless it was a new name for a big dinner, as that was the only thing he could think of now that they were outside of, and he said if that was so, and if he could get outside of two menageries, he thought he could carry in a bigger chunk than any two chunks there were down-stairs.

Then all the others laughed a good deal, and Mr. 'c.o.o.n said he had thought that perhaps a menagerie was something to wear that would make anybody who had it on very strong, and able to stand up under a big load, and to eat as much as Mr. 'Possum could, or even more.

But Mr. Robin said that it didn't mean either of those things. He said he didn't really know what it did mean himself, but that it must be some kind of a place that had a great many large creatures in it, for he had heard his grandmother quite often call his grandfather the biggest goose outside of a menagerie, though, being very young then, Mr. Robin couldn't remember just what she had meant by it.

Mr. Rabbit said he thought that the word "menagerie" sounded like some kind of a picnic, with swings and nice lively games, and Mr. Crow said that once when he was flying he pa.s.sed over a place where there was a big sign that said "Menagerie" on it, and that there were some tents and a crowd of people and a great noise, but that he hadn't seen anything that he could carry off without being noticed, so he didn't stop.

Mr. Squirrel thought that from what Mr. Crow said it must be a place where there would be a lot of fine things to see, and Mr. Turtle said that he was a good deal over three hundred years old and had often heard of a menagerie, but that he had never seen one. He said he had always supposed that it was a nice pond of clear water, with a lot of happy turtles and fish and wild geese and duck and such things, in it, and maybe some animals around it, all living happily together, and taken care of by Mr. Man, who brought them a great many good things to eat. He had always thought he would like to live in a menagerie, he said, but that n.o.body had ever invited him, and he had never happened to come across one in his travels.

Mr. Dog hadn't been saying anything all this time, but he knocked the ashes out of his pipe now, and filled it up fresh and lit it, and cleared his throat, and began to talk. It made him smile, he said, to hear the different ways people thought of a thing they had never seen.

He said that Mr. Turtle was the only one who came anywhere near to what a menagerie really was, though of course Mr. Crow _had_ seen one on the outside. Then Mr. Dog said:

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SLIPPED IN BEHIND HIM WHEN HE WENT INTO THE TENT"]