Uncle Joe's Stories

"Never learned to play?" cried the magpie in a voice of astonishment. "Dear me, dear me, what a pity! I have so often heard good singers like you speak of the pleasure of being able to accompany oneself, and I am sure you could play if you liked. Now I have a neighbour who plays the violin in the most delightful manner, and what is more, he gives lessons upon that charming instrument. A very few lessons from him, and I am sure you would play so well that the whole neighbourhood would flock to hear you!"

"Really," said Effie, "this sounds very tempting. I have always felt that one ought to cultivate one's talents, and make the most of the gifts which Nature has given us. Your words are well worth consideration," and she mused for a few moments, purring all the while in a contented and self-satisfied tone.

The magpie, who had now brought the conversation to the very point she desired, according to the plan agreed upon with the weasel, began to press the matter home to the cat, telling her that she was wronging herself as well as all the other animals in not making her talents of more avail to them, and taking advantage of the opportunity which now offered.

The musical neighbour of whom she had spoken, turned out to be "Honest John," the hare, and although his services were in great requisition, the magpie said, she was sure that she should be able to secure them for so distinguished a person as the cat, provided that she would consent to take lessons.

After a little more talk, Mrs. Effie decided to allow the magpie to sound the hare upon the subject, and appointed another meeting upon the following day in order to discuss the matter further. Then the magpie, having done a good morning's work, and successfully laid the train by which she hoped to carry out her plot with the weasel, flew chuckling off, whilst the weasel stole silently away, and occupied himself on his own affairs.

Meanwhile the cat was much gratified by all that had passed. She felt that she was appreciated; and that those who lived around evidently recognized her as a person to be considered and made much of. She resolved that she would tell the dog nothing whatever of her interview with the magpie, partly because she thought he would laugh at the readiness with which she had listened to the bird's flattery, and partly because she was quite sure that he would entirely disapprove of her proposed lessons upon the violin. Thus, then, were the first seeds sown of that unhappy quarrel which was destined to divide the two once united races.

Rover returned from his walk in a cheerful and pleasant mood, and behaved in the most friendly spirit towards his old friend. He could not help observing, however, that she hardly treated him after the same fashion. She seemed to hold her head higher than usual, and stood more upon her dignity than had formerly been the case. Being a good-natured dog, he took no notice of this, and, in fact, attributed her conduct to some accidental derangement of the nerves or the digestion. But when the same thing continued during the whole of the next day, he began to feel rather annoyed. Still he said nothing, and went for his walk as usual. As soon as his back was fairly turned, the magpie again made her appearance, and commenced another conversation with the cat. She had not been able to see Honest John, she said, but had made an appointment for the following day, and would call again on the morning after. Then she went on in her former strain, praising the cat's beauty and sweetness of voice to the skies, and throwing in all the nasty insinuations she could think of against poor Rover. Jenny always used to get angry when she came to this part of the story, vowing that no faithful person, and, in fact, no real lady, would have allowed anyone to say such things of an absent friend, but would have stopped the mischievous gossip at once.

Effie, however, did no such thing; and after all, we must own that she only acted in the same manner as a great many men and women, for everybody likes to hear himself praised, and when a person wants to abuse or run down another, if he manages to do so in the same conversation in which he flatters his listener, he has an excellent chance of escaping without rebuke from the latter. Besides, whatever Jenny's opinion may have been, we know very well that, after all, she was but an ass.

So the second visit passed off as successfully as the magpie could have wished, and then there was a third, and at each interview she scattered her poisoned seed so cleverly, that day by day the difference between the two old friends grew imperceptibly wider. I think it was not until the magpie had paid her fourth visit that the arrangement about the violin lessons was finally made.

"Honest John" had reasons for declining to visit the house in which Mrs. Effie lived, but, on being bribed by promises of lettuce and parsley from the garden, freely given by the cat, and conveyed to him by the magpie, the hare consented to give evening lessons three times a week to Effie, provided that she would consent to come down and receive them by the stream which crossed the meadow close to the wood in which Honest John generally resided. In that meadow lived a most respectable cow, reputed to be a great lover of music, and John suggested that after a short time it might be possible for the two to take lessons together, and that a duet between them would be most melodious.

Still this arrangement was kept completely secret from the dog, and the results that followed almost entirely arose from this silence on Effie's part, which was really as foolish as it was unnecessary. Had she opened her heart to her old friend, all might yet have been well, but she had promised the magpie to conceal the matter, and so she did.

She was obliged to practise deceit in order to go forth to her lessons without the knowledge of the dog. She therefore pretended to him that she had a great fancy for cockchafers, which always came buzzing about in the early summer evenings, which was the best time to catch them. So she made this the excuse for stealing out of the house somewhat late, and Rover, finding that she evidently did not want his company, and being too proud to force himself upon anybody, stayed quietly at home.

So the lessons began, and it must have been a curious sight to see the hare and the cat sitting side by side between the wood and the stream, the former instructing the latter how to hold the violin and to wring from it those sounds with which, according to the magpie, she would soon delight the world.

The worthy Rover, albeit quite unsuspicious of what was going on, saw no improvement in the manners and behaviour of his old friend. She was not only cold to him, but not unfrequently behaved with positive discourtesy, making faces when he wished to engage in a friendly game of play with her, frequently setting up her back at him, and occasionally going to the length of spitting. In fact, whatever harmony she might be learning from the hare, the harmony of the household was certainly not increased, and a most uncomfortable state of things prevailed. The good dog became positively unhappy when he found that such an estrangement had grown up between his old friend and himself, and often wondered whether he had given her any just cause of offence, and whether any action on his part would be able to set matters right again.

So matters went on for some time, and the magpie and weasel chuckled vastly over the success of their wicked plot. The cat, meanwhile, made some progress with her lessons, and received the compliments of honest John upon her performance, which in reality was execrable. She had not the slightest idea of time or tune, and could hardly produce a sound from the violin, whilst her voice was so disagreeable that the cow, far from consenting to join her in a duet, invariably left that part of the meadow as soon as she began, and went away to moo by herself as far off as possible. Still the cat persevered, the foolish hare expressed himself satisfied, and the magpie lost no opportunity of encouraging Effie in her praiseworthy exertions.

She irritated Rover exceedingly about this time by caterwauling frequently at night, which made the honest fellow quite fidgety, and no doubt contributed in some degree to the final catastrophe which was now drawing near.

The magpie, who, as it may be seen, cared neither for dog, cat, hare, nor for anything nor anybody except her own interest and amusement, saw plainly enough that the cat could not be deceived for ever by her flattery, and that some day or other she would discover the truth, namely that she was making no progress at all with her music, and was in fact no further advanced than when she first began. Having no regard whatever for the hare, upon whose large eyes she sometimes cast a covetous glance as if longing to peck them out, the wicked old bird thought that her best plan to turn the cat's possible anger from herself, would be to persuade her that her progress towards musical perfection was only delayed by the negligence or stupidity of "Honest John."

She began by suggesting to Effie that although her voice was as fine as ever, and her notes as clear and true, she did not seem to be able to accompany herself as yet upon the violin. Considering her great natural talent this was certainly rather strange. Was she quite satisfied with her master? Hares were jealous animals. Was this one free from the disease? Would it not be well to ask him why she could not yet accompany herself as she wished to do?

By means of such words as these, the cunning magpie succeeded in gradually instilling into the mind of Effie discontent and suspicion of the hare, towards whom she had up to that time entertained nothing but feelings of gratitude and friendship. At her very next lesson she complained of not getting on fast enough, and questioned Honest John sharply upon the subject. The hare made the best excuses that he could, took most of the blame upon himself, denied that there was any such want of progress as was supposed, and promised that the very next evening he would persuade the cow to be present, and join in their musical performance. That night Effie nearly drove Rover mad with her attempts at a private rehearsal.

The dog passed a sleepless night, baying angrily but uselessly at the moon, and wondering how on earth any living creature, cat, dog, or man, could find pleasure in squalling all night instead of going comfortably to bed, and seeking their natural rest. When next morning came, he had nearly had enough of it, and felt cross all day towards the cat, who had really become such a disagreeable inmate of the house as to have almost altogether destroyed its comfort as a home. The day wore on, and as evening approached, the cat made her usual preparations to leave the house for the purpose of taking her lesson.

In order fully to understand how it was that the events came to pass which I am about to relate, I must here remark that the little poodle, whose name was Frisky, had observed the constant absence of Effie at this particular time, and had once or twice spoken about it to Rover.

On this evening, when the same thing happened again, he remarked to the old dog that it was curious that the cat should so often go out of an evening, and suggested that they should stroll out together and see if they could find out where she had gone to, and how she managed to catch the cockchafers.

To this Rover consented, partly out of good nature towards the little poodle, and partly because, being rather out of sorts, and irritated by all he had lately had to go through, he thought a moonlight stroll might cool his heated blood and do him good. So, about an hour after the departure of the cat, when the moon was up and shining brightly, the two dogs sauntered forth for their walk.

Meanwhile Effie had gone down to her accustomed trysting place with the hare, and there she found Honest John, and saw that, true to his word, he had induced the cow to cross the stream and consent to join in their performance.

They began well enough: the hare playing a solo upon the violin, on which he was really skilful; and the cow afterwards mooing melodiously; then the cat, after a gentle "miauw," which hurt nobody's ears, took the violin, and made a prodigious effort after success, raising her voice at the same time in tones so discordant that the hare involuntarily clapped his paws to his ears to keep out the horrible sounds. This action suddenly and at once disclosed to the cat the real poverty of her performance; and the manner in which she had been deceived by those who had flattered her upon an excellence of voice which she had never possessed. Forgetful of the real culprit, who had led her to the pass at which she had now arrived, she turned the full current of her rage against the master who had failed to supply her with that voice and taste for music which nature had denied. Dropping the violin in a paroxysm of rage, she clasped the unhappy hare suddenly round the neck, as if in a loving embrace, perhaps meaning at first only to give him a good shaking for his misbehaviour. As she did so, she exclaimed —

"Honest John, Honest John, do you laugh at your pupils, then, and stop your ears against the sounds you yourself have taught them to make?"

The hare could only reply by a faint squeak, for the cat held him tight, and pressed his body close to her own. As she did so, I suppose nature asserted itself in her breast, and she could not resist the temptation of fastening her teeth in the throat which was so invitingly near her mouth. A fatal nip it was that she gave the poor hare. The warm blood followed immediately. The tiger's thirst was awakened in the cat at once, and, all the more excited by the struggles of the hare to escape, she threw her paws more closely around him, and bit so fiercely that the poor wretch soon knew that he was lost indeed. Forgetful of music, of the cow, of the violin, of everything but the mad passion of the moment, Effie clung tightly to the dying hare, purring to herself with a savage and horrible satisfaction as she did him slowly to death, and his large liquid eyes, turned to her at first with a piteous look as if to ask for mercy, grew fixed and glassy and dull as he yielded up his innocent life and lay dead beneath his cruel pupil.

All this passed in a minute, and so indeed did that which followed. The cow, too utterly astonished at what had happened to think of interfering, even if her peaceful disposition would not in any case have prevented her doing so, stood aghast during the short struggle, rooted to the ground with horror and amazement. Then, when the horrid deed was done, she gave vent to a mighty, unearthly bellow, turned round, rushed to the stream, in which the reflection of the glorious moon above was clearly shining at the moment, leaped straight over it, and ran wildly away to the other end of the meadow.

Other actors appeared upon the scene at the same moment. Rover and Frisky had by chance come that way in their stroll, and had seen the musical performers just at the very moment when the cat gave vent to those discordant notes which had so offended the ears of the unfortunate hare.

They had precisely the same effect upon worthy Rover, who no sooner heard them than he threw himself upon the ground, buried his head in his paws, and tried to shut them out altogether. As he shut his eyes at the time, he did not immediately see what followed. In fact he lay still, groaning audibly for a minute or two, until aroused by shouts of laughter from his little companion.

"Look, Mr. Rover," exclaimed little Frisky, still holding his sides with merriment. "See what fun they are having! Effie and a hare are rolling about together so funnily. And see – oh, do look. Here comes the cow! Oh, what a jump!"

And he went off into another fit of laughter as the cow came thundering by them in her mad career.

But when Rover raised his head and looked forward, he comprehended the scene at once, and knew that it was no laughing matter, at least for one of the actors. For an instant – but only for an instant – he paused, but in the next moment his resolution was taken. With a loud, indignant bark, he sprang forward, and rushed towards the spot where the treacherous Effie still held her lifeless victim in her fatal embrace.

"Murderess!" he shouted, as he sprang across the stream. "Vile murderess, these then are your cockchafers, and this the meaning of your moonlight rambles! But you shall be punished for this abominable crime, and that without delay!"

Perhaps if good Rover had made a shorter speech, or rushed upon the cat without making one at all until he had caught her, he would have succeeded in his object, and avenged the poor hare.

But Effie was no fool, and as soon as she heard the honest bark of her old companion, she knew by instinct that the game was up, and that the sooner she was off the better. Therefore, without a moment's delay, she tore herself from the still panting body of the luckless hare, and darted into the wood scarce half-a-dozen yards in front of the pursuing Rover. In fact I think he would actually have caught her, and possibly changed the whole current of the future relations which were thenceforward to exist between their respective races, but for her skill in climbing, of which she took advantage by rushing up a large leafy oak which stood near the outside of the wood, and from the lofty branches of which she presently sat licking her lips and looking down in safety upon her late friend, but now justly incensed enemy.

With bitter words did the good dog upbraid her with her cold unkindness and deceit towards himself, and with her still worse treachery and cruelty towards her more recent acquaintance, the hare. He warned her against approaching any more the house which had hitherto been their joint home, and declared that for his part he could no longer have any friendship for one so utterly base and wicked.

The cat, having no real defence to make against honest Rover's attack, contented herself with setting up her back, and spitting violently until she had somewhat cooled down. Then, with consummate craft, she began to excuse herself, declaring that the dog was himself in fault, that his arrogance and overbearing manners had become perfectly insufferable, and that if she had done anything unworthy of her noble race, it was not to a dog that she looked to be reproved for the same.

The bitter language which passed between these two animals is believed by Jenny to have been the source and origin of the subsequent estrangement of the two races, and there seems no reason to doubt the accuracy of her information. Certain it is that Effie never returned home; whether remorse for her disgraceful conduct had any share in producing this result, or whether it was simply from the fear of Rover's threats, it is at this distance of time impossible to say.

But from that day to this not only did this particular cat never associate with dogs upon friendly terms, but for any cat to do so, after she had left kittenhood and reached years of discretion, was and is quite exceptional conduct.

Some of Effie's race frequent the woods and mountain fastnesses, avoiding altogether the abodes of men; others, indeed, consent to be considered as "domestic" animals, but they, for the most part, regard a dog as an intruder if he enters the house-door, and keep him at arm's length as much as possible.

Rover returned home on that eventful night tired in body and sad at heart. To his honest and confiding nature it had been a cruel blow to find that one whom he had of old trusted and loved had turned out to be both treacherous and cruel. Singularly enough, in his return home, whom should he encounter but the weasel, who, forgetful of his usual caution, and desirous of annoying his enemy, let him know that he was aware of the cat having deceived him, and too plainly showed his exultation at the quarrel which had taken place, and his hope that it would be permanent. Rover rushed upon the little beast before he could escape, and made an end of him with a single shake.

The result as regarded the magpie was more curious still. Being an inveterate thief, she no sooner saw that both the dogs, as well as the cat, were out of the house, than she flew in through the window, and seized a silver spoon which was lying upon an ordinary meat dish for the usual purpose to which such articles are devoted, namely, the helping of the gravy. Delighted with her booty, she flew to the window-sill, and having hid the spoon in the ivy which clustered round it, had just hopped into the room again, when the door suddenly opened, and the window blew to with a bang in consequence of the sudden draught.

As it was a self-fastening window, the bird was unable to get out, and sat there trembling whilst the man-servant belonging to the house entered the room. Looking round, he presently perceived some gravy spilt on the clean table-cloth, and another glance satisfied him that the silver gravy spoon was missing.

As he knew he should be held responsible for the loss, the plate being all in his charge, the man was naturally much annoyed, and looked right and left to see where on earth the spoon could have flown to. Soon he espied the magpie crouching in the corner of the window-seat, and trying to hide herself.

"There's the thief, I'll be bound!" he cried, and stepped towards her.

The bird, quite beside herself with fear, fluttered on this side and that, vainly endeavouring to escape through the window.

"No you don't!" said the man. "You've been stealing, have you, Mistress Mag. Where's the silver gravy spoon?"

"Oh!" shrieked the magpie; "I never stole it! – I never stole it!"

"What has become of it?" said the man.