Minnie: or, The Little Woman: A Fairy Story

"Come, give us another!" he said, at last, throwing away the shell, and speaking with the queerest little squeaky, grumbling voice.

"Why, who taught you how to talk?" asked Minnie, in surprise.

"O, nobody. Squirrels don't go to school. They couldn't keep us quiet on the benches, you see. It makes us ache to sit still!" and he ran round and round the rail of the fence, to rest himself.

"Pray, don't go away yet," called Minnie; "I want to know if all squirrels talk, or what you did to learn."

Down the squirrel jumped into the grass, pulled the blades apart with his paws, and smelt of this weed and that, till at last he found what seemed to satisfy him, for he broke off a sprig, and went back to his seat on the fence.

"Minnie, how should you like to live with us?" he said. "We have good times, I tell you, out in the woods. We do nothing but chatter, and eat, and fly about, all day long. We haven't any master, and the whole world's our play-ground; the deep earth is our cellar; the sun is our lamp and stove."

"But I should frighten the squirrels, I'm so large!" and Minnie stood on tip-toe, to let him see what a great girl-as indeed she was, beside a squirrel!

"The same weed that made me talk like a little girl, will make you grow small as a squirrel. Do you dare to taste it?" and he tossed the green sprig into Minnie's lap.

"Dare? yes, indeed! who's afraid?" She ate the leaves at a mouthful.

CHAPTER V.

A SQUIRREL-BACK RIDE

Minnie had only half believed what the squirrel said, and was surprised and almost frightened when she felt herself growing smaller in every limb. Did you ever drop a kid glove into boiling water? It will keep its former shape, but shrink together so as to be hardly large enough for a doll. Thus Minnie's whole form shrank, until she was no taller than squirrel himself, and not half so stout, and her hands were as tiny as his paws.

"Now we'll have plenty of fun," said squirrel; and they started together for the woods.

But Minnie walked so slowly, with her little feet, that her guide soon lost his patience. He would dart on out of sight, and come back for her, again and again; he would wait to eat nuts, and dig holes in the ground to bury some against winter-time; and still Minnie, for all her hurrying, lagged behind.

At last squirrel said, "This will never do; seat yourself on my back, and I'll carry you faster than any steam-car that ever you saw. Here we go!"

It was a pretty sight-the little rider and her frisky steed, bounding so gracefully over the road. They had not gone far, however, when Minnie called,

"O, squirrel, pray, pray stop!"

"What's the trouble now?"

"You go so fast it takes away my breath, and the underbrush all but scratches my eyes out; and the grass is full of bugs and ugly caterpillars, that stretch their cold claws to catch at me as I go past."

"Is that all?" He darted by a post, along the fence-rails, and up the trunk of a tree, and into the leafy boughs. But now it was the squirrel's turn to complain.

"Don't pull at my ears so hard! Why, my eyes are half out of my head! It is bad enough to carry such a load!"

"But, dear squirrel, I shall tumble off! Here we are, away up in the air, higher than any house, and you skip and leap, and scramble so, it frightens me out of my wits."

"Jump off a minute, then; I know a better way to carry you."

No sooner had Minnie obeyed, than he was out of sight. With one spring, he had leaped to the bough of a taller tree; – and now would he ever come back?

It made her dizzy to look down. It seemed further than ever to the ground, now, she had grown so small. And the insects that crept and flew around her looked so large! A great mosquito came buzzing about with his poisoned bill, and then a hard-backed beetle trolled past, and two or three fat ants. And a bird alighted on the bough, and began to sing.

Minnie drew down a broad leaf to hide her face, for she felt afraid that the bird would think her some kind of bug, and eat her up. Perhaps he meant to do so, for he kept hopping nearer and nearer as he sang.

"O, how I wish I were at home!" thought Minnie. "Perhaps my mother is looking for me now; and Franky has been standing ever so long at the fence, with the half of his cake that he promised to save for me. How could that old squirrel be so wicked as to leave me here alone?"

Still the bird hopped nearer, and eyed her as he sang, and looked as if his mouth were watering for a taste.

"I shall be killed and eaten up by ants and worms if I fall to the ground," thought Minnie; "or, even if I reached it alive, I could never, never find the way home, with these small, slow feet. Let the robin eat me, then."

But now came a rustling amongst the leaves, and a chirping, chattering sound, and, lo! her friend the squirrel frisked into sight. He seemed to be quarrelling with the bird, for she half spread her wings, and stretched her beak as if she could bite him; and squirrel chattered and chuckled at her, and his bright brown eyes flashed with anger, till the robin flew away.

"A moment later, Minnie, and you would have been changed into a song. That saucy fellow meant to eat you for his luncheon," said squirrel. "Now, don't complain that I went away; if you do, I shall go again. We never allow any grumbling out here in the woods."

"Yet they allow quarrelling, and murder, and mischief of many kinds, I see," thought Minnie; "but as I've come so far, I will not go home without learning how birds and squirrels live."

CHAPTER VI.

LIVING IN A TREE

The squirrel now tucked his little friend under his chin, as if she were a nut, and off they went together, fast as any bird could fly.

Minnie soon found there was no use in urging squirrel to go in a straight line, and pick out the smoothest paths: it was not his way. He made her dizzy, often, by running along the under side of the boughs, or twirling round them in his frisky way; and, in passing from tree to tree, whichever branches were farthest apart, they were the ones he chose for a leap.

If he heard with his quick ears any sound that frightened him, down squirrel darted into some hollow trunk, that was full of ants and rotten wood, and wiry snails; but Minnie found he was growing very tired, and was all in a perspiration with carrying such a burden; so she did not complain.

Yet, when, in passing, her curly hair caught on the rough bark, and had many a pull, and her cheeks became bruised with brushing against the leaves, and she shook black ants and beetles out of her dress, Minnie more than once wished herself home again.

At last, with a chuckle of delight, squirrel darted up the trunk of a beautiful elm, and seated Minnie where the great boughs parted into something like an arm-chair; while he went to find his mate.

This, then, was her new home! Tired and hungry as she was, the little girl looked about her with pleasure-it was such a lovely place. On one side were sunny fields; on the other, stretched the silent, shady wood, with its beds of moss, and curtains of vine, and clumps of wild-flowers.

Closer about her, fanning her warm cheeks, were the green leaves of the elm-more thousands of them than she could think of counting, and all so fresh, and creased, and pointed so prettily. "Many a game of hide-and-seek I'll have here!" she thought.

But now squirrel returned with his wife, who shook hands with her little guest very politely, and begged her to feel quite at home. Madam Squirrel was not so handsome as her husband, but was such a kind, motherly person, that you would not notice her looks.

She had brought some dry moss from her nest, and with this made a soft bed for Minnie to rest upon while she prepared dinner. The good soul even wove the twigs together into a leafy bower above her head, and called one of her young ones to stand near and keep the flies away, so that Minnie might have a nap.

The young squirrel, however, was less thoughtful than his mamma. He had so many questions to ask, and so much news to tell, that sleep was out of the question. And Minnie found that the wonderful herb had not only made her grow small as squirrels, but at the same time had taught her to understand their language.

And not this alone; by listening carefully, at first, she could soon make out what all the creatures around her were saying-the bees, and birds; and grasshoppers, and wasps, and mice.

Even the leaves she saw talked to each other all day long; the wind had only to come, and make them a call, and start a subject or two-then there was whispering enough! And the grass underneath whispered back, and perfumed wild-flowers talked with the grass, and the river talked to the flowers, or, when they would not listen, talked to its own still pebbles.

The sun, if he did not speak, smiled such a broad, warm smile, that any one could guess it meant, "I know you, and love you, friends!" And at night the silent moonshine stole into the wood, and kissed the leaves till they smiled with happiness, and kissed the flowers till the air was full of perfumes they breathed back to her, and kissed the brook till all its little wavelets sparkled and laughed together for joy.

Meantime the stars were winking at each other, to think they had caught the cold moon making love!

CHAPTER VII.

MASTER SQUIRREL