A FIELD-MOUSE.

THE LIFE AND INTERESTING ADVENTURES

OF A

FIELD MOUSE.

“What is my little Alfred crying for?” asked his mother, Mrs. Clifford, as she entered the room where Alfred stood weeping by the table.

Come here, and tell me what is the matter with you.”

Alfred slowly advanced towards his mother, and wiped away his tears with her apron. Alfred was but a little boy, or he would not have cried for such a simple thing as he did.

“Well, Alfred, and what is it?” asked his kind mamma.

“Why, mamma, you know that nice plum cake you gave me for saying my lesson well; I had put it in the cupboard, as I did not want to eat it then, and I came just now to take a little nibble at it; and when I opened the closet-door to look for it, there was an ugly brown mouse in the closet, and hardly a scrap of my cake left; that greedy thing had eaten it all but a few crumbs.” And here Alfred’s tears flowed afresh.

“I am very sorry, my dear child, that the mouse has eaten your cake; but still, I do not think it was worth shedding so many tears about: you must learn to bear such trifling disappointments with more patience. I dare say, the mouse has eaten my sugar and cake, but I shall not cry if it has.”

“I am sure it is enough to make any one cry, (said Alfred). I only wish, (added he, his eyes sparkling with anger), that I could have killed the little beast for stealing my cake.”

“Now, Alfred, I am ashamed of you,” said his mother gravely.

Alfred could, however, think of nothing but the loss of his cake, and begged his mother to let the mouse-trap be set to catch the mischievous intruder.

Mrs. Clifford was very sorry to hear her little son talk so, and she represented to him his cruelty in wanting to take away the life of a poor mouse only for having satisfied its hunger.

“But, mamma, mice do a deal of mischief, (said Alfred), and ought to be killed; for that mouse will soon eat up all your sugar.”

“But, Alfred; I know a certain two-legged mouse, who, if I left the key in my store-closet, would eat more sugar in one minute than this poor little animal could in an hour.”

Alfred hung his head at this reproof, for it was but a day or two since he was detected at the sugar dish; and he soon after left the room.

Mrs. Clifford was much grieved that her little Alfred shewed so much inclination to be cruel and revengeful, two qualities so dangerous in a child, or in any one; and she knew that, unless it was timely checked, it would grow into a habit. Harsh means, she did not like to adopt; and so she at last thought of a method which seemed likely to succeed. She was well aware of the inconvenience of having mice in her cupboard, as they not only commit great depredations, but soil every thing they touch; so, as she was forced to kill the mouse, she hoped to turn its death to a good use. Therefore, the next time Alfred entered the room, she asked him if he was still resolved to have the mouse killed. “Yes, mamma, (replied Alfred), it had no right to eat my cake.”

“Very well; I will have the mouse-trap set; but observe, Alfred, whether before the day is past, you do not tell me you are sorry for its death.”

“Oh! no; that I am sure I sha’n’t,” replied Alfred, and Mrs. Clifford ordered the trap to be set.

Early the next morning, when Mrs. Clifford came down stairs and went to the closet, she beheld her poor little prisoner dead in his wire cage. “See, Alfred, (said she), here is the poor mouse dead!”

Alfred at first was glad; but when he saw what a pretty one it was, he was sorry, but contented himself by saying to the dead mouse, “If you had not been in the cupboard doing so much mischief, you would not have been killed!”

When he had said his lesson, his mother said to him, “Now, Alfred, shall I tell you a story?” Alfred was very fond of hearing a story, if it was not too long, and he asked his mother, if this would be a long one.

“I don’t wish to tire you, (said his mother), so I will only tell you part of it this morning.

Alfred fetched his little stool, and having placed it at her side, fixed his eyes on her face while she related

THE HISTORY OF A FIELD MOUSE.

“In a wheat-stack, in Farmer Ball’s yard, lived an old mouse with her family, consisting of five little ones, the most worthy of which was a pretty brown mouse, called Downy, because her fur was longer and softer than either of her brothers and sisters, and besides being the prettiest, she was likewise the wisest and best among them.

“Her mother was by birth a field-mouse; she had been carried among the sheaves of wheat into the stack, with a great many more field-mice; and had lived there, at the expence of farmer Ball, ever since.

“It was one fine clear morning, in the middle of March, that, as Downy was peeping her little nose out of the straw at the edge of the stack, to breathe a little fresh air, she saw the farmer with his men enter the yard, and heard him tell the people that he would have the stack taken into the barn and thrashed, and desired them to bid Fen, the ratcatcher, come, and bring all his dogs with him.

“Poor Downy was in a terrible fright at hearing this; she ran to acquaint her mother with it; and asked her what they had best do; but her mother, who was but a foolish mouse, bade her not be under the least alarm, for she was persuaded the farmer did not mean to take it in just