helpless blind mice, which she was suckling.   Silket was overjoyed, he licked the little ones with much affection, and behaved with the greatest tenderness to Downy; he presented her the filbert he had brought home, and praised the beauty of his little family, though none but himself could see that they possessed any, for little mice are very ugly till they can open their eyes, and have got fur on them; for like puppies, and kittens, and rabbits, they are all born blind, and do not open their eyes for many days after.

No mouse could behave better than Silket now did; he would not suffer Downy to stir out in the cold, on any account, for, though it was the latter end of March, the weather was unusually severe, and the frost very hard; Silket was out almost the whole day searching for nice food for Downy, and getting soft moss to keep his young ones warm,—but one day he grieved Downy much and did a deal of mischief,—he wanted something to cover his little ones with, and what did he do, but went into the garden to the hedge where Mrs. Ball had hung out her linen to dry, and the wicked Silket gnawed and bit one of the old lady’s white aprons almost to pieces, carrying home as many of the rags as his mouth would hold, to his house. Downy was sadly vexed when she heard what he had been doing, and she was forced to read him a very long lecture on being so mischievous, while Mr. Mischief amused himself by laying the rags out to the greatest advantage, admiring the white quilt he had brought home for his little ones’ bed, and secretly resolving to go and fetch the remaining fragments, and though he saw how grave Downy looked, he did not think he had done so much harm in biting the old lady’s apron; so he cast a cunning eye at Downy, to see if she was observing him, for he wanted sadly to get the rest of the apron, only he did not like to disoblige her commands, and get another scolding; but she saw what he was after, and she begged him not to go, for she said, she knew that such mischievous ways would come to no good end, and that he would get caught in a trap, or killed by some cat, or fall into some great danger, ‘And, (added she,) what should I do, Silket, left with these four helpless little mice to provide for?’ Silket immediately saw the impropriety of his conduct, and he never spoiled any more of good Mrs. Ball’s linen, though he often came in the way of it. The poor old lady was greatly disturbed at the misfortune which had befallen her best muslin apron, and threatened to have the ratcatcher’s dogs and ferrets to hunt the garden and the hedge, if any thing more was destroyed; so that it was a good thing that Silket took Downy’s advice in that respect, or he would certainly have been killed for his pains.

“At the end of three weeks the little mice began to be quite lively, and to grow very pretty little creatures; they much resembled their father in his mischeivous inclinations, and it needed all Downy’s prudent management to keep them in order, for they would frisk out of their nest, and scud about in the meadow, going so for out of sight, and staying so late, that Downy was in a great fright lest any mishap should befall them, as to Silket, he seemed to take great delight in their pranks.

They would lay on the bank, enjoying themselves and basking in the sun, almost all day long. When it was fine weather, sometimes, one bolder than the rest would run up a little tree not more than a yard high, and clinging to the top, look down with triumph on his companions; then, if he heard the dead leaves shake, the timid little thing whisked down, and away they all four scudded, hiding themselves in the holes of the hedge, till they thought the danger past.

Downy now began to feel the cares of a family, and she was often much grieved at the disobedient behaviour of the little mice. Velvet was the only good-behaved one, and she was bad enough in all reason. They were incorrigible little thieves, which quality they inherited from their father, for no sooner were their parents out of the way, than they found their way to the granary, and though Downy and Silket were all day busied in getting food for them, and fed them with the best of every thing, the wicked little things stole the corn, and eat even more than they wanted; they grew so fat and sleek and wanton, that all the field-mice in the meadow declared they were quite spoiled, and Downy ought to keep them under more restraint, and punish them when they behaved ill. As they grew older they grew worse and worse; Downy had warned them of all the dangers which they ran in roaming so far from home, and told them of the cat that haunted the garden, and of the mousehunt, and the great white owl, but these bad mice paid no attention to what their kind good mother said to them.

“Among other things, she begged them not to go near the brick traps which the gardener had set among the beans and peas, to entice simple mice to eat the bait, and then they were sure to be killed, by the trap falling on them; but they did not regard those prudent counsels in the least, and a day or two after, they all sallied out into the garden, (with Whitefoot, their leader) in search of something nice. After they had rummaged the ground under the nut-tree for some time without finding a single nut, they came to a row of late-sown peas; these they made a terrible havoc amongst, regardless of their mother’s advice. They were going home, well pleased with their regale, when, unluckily, Whitefoot espied a parcel of nice wheat, laid out very carefully under a sort of brick house; now Whitefoot run all round it and thought it stood too firm to be knocked down, and as he was rather greedy, he determined to venture under, and eat up the wheat; he was in such a hurry, for fear that either of his companions should come and want to share his prize, that, in his haste, he pushed down a bit of a stick which held the brick up—down it fell, and hapless Whitefoot was crushed to death in an instant.

“This was the effects of his disobedience to his mother.

“The noise of the fallen brick alarmed the timid little mice; away they ran as fast as they could, nor did they once stop to look behind to see what had become of their brother Whitefoot, who was found next morning by the gardener, under the brick, and was given to the black cat to eat. Now had he minded what his mother had told him the day before, he would have been alive and frisking about with the rest. See, Alfred, what comes of disobedience and greediness.” said his mother. “Yes, mamma, (said Alfred) I will remember how poor Whitefoot was served, and not disobey you, though you know, I could not be killed by a brick trap as he was.” “No, Alfred, but you might get hurt in a hundred different ways by going where I bid you not—recollect when I had so often told you not to play with the fire, how you burnt your hand, by lighting bits of paper; and if I had not come in, you would have been burnt to death.” “Yes, mamma, and it hurt me so much, I have never done it since.” “No more would Whitefoot have gone near a trap again, if he had only broken one of his limbs, instead of being killed, but he should have minded what was said at first. But you shall hear how the others behaved after his death.