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THE ADVENTURES OF
A BROWNIE
AS TOLD TO MY CHILD
BY MISS MULOCK
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK McLOUGHLIN BROTHERS
COPYRIGHTED--1908--BY McLOUGHLIN BROS.
CONTENTS
ADVENTURE THE FIRST Brownie and the Cook 5
ADVENTURE THE SECOND Brownie and the Cherry-tree 17
ADVENTURE THE THIRD Brownie in the Farmyard 26
ADVENTURE THE FOURTH Brownie's Ride 41
ADVENTURE THE FIFTH Brownie on the Ice 58
ADVENTURE THE SIXTH AND LAST Brownie and the Clothes 73
POEMS The Blackbird and the Rooks 88 The Shaking of the Pear-tree 91 The Wonderful Apple-tree 95 The Jealous Boy 98 The Story of the Birkenhead 99 Birds in the Snow 105 The Little Comforter 107 Don't Be Afraid 108 Girl and Boy 109 Agnes at Prayer 110 Going to Work 111 Three Companions 112 The Motherless Child 113 The Wren's Nest 115 A Child's Smile 116 Over the Hills and Far Away 118 The Two Raindrops 119 The Year's End 120 Running After the Rainbow 121 Dick and I 123 Grandpapa 124 Monsieur et Mademoiselle 125 Young Dandelion 127 A September Robin 128
THE ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE
ADVENTURE THE FIRST
BROWNIE AND THE COOK
THERE was once a little Brownie, who lived--where do you think he lived?in a coal-cellar.
Now a coal-cellar may seem a most curious place to choose to live in;but then a Brownie is a curious creature--a fairy, and yet not one ofthat sort of fairies who fly about on gossamer wings, and dance in themoonlight, and so on. He never dances; and as to wings, what use wouldthey be to him in a coal-cellar? He is a sober, stay-at-home, householdelf--nothing much to look at, even if you did see him, which you are notlikely to do--only a little old man, about a foot high, all dressed inbrown, with a brown face and hands, and a brown peaked cap, just thecolor of a brown mouse. And, like a mouse, he hides in corners--especiallykitchen corners, and only comes out after dark when nobody is about, andso sometimes people call him Mr. Nobody.
I said you were not likely to see him. I never did, certainly, and neverknew any body that did; but still, if you were to go into Devonshire,you would hear many funny stories about Brownies in general, and so Imay as well tell you the adventures of this particular Brownie, whobelonged to a family there; which family he had followed from house tohouse, most faithfully, for years and years.
A good many people had heard him--or supposed they had--when there wereextraordinary noises about the house; noises which must have come from amouse or a rat--or a Brownie. But nobody had ever seen him except thechildren--the three little boys and three little girls--who declared heoften came to play with them when they were alone, and was the nicestcompanion in the world, though he was such an old man--hundreds of yearsold! He was full of fun and mischief, and up to all sorts of tricks, buthe never did any body any harm unless they deserved it.
Brownie was supposed to live under one particular coal, in the darkestcorner of the cellar, which was never allowed to be disturbed. Why hehad chosen it nobody knew, and how he lived there, nobody knew either,nor what he lived upon. Except that, ever since the family couldremember, there had always been a bowl of milk put behind thecoal-cellar door for the Brownie's supper. Perhaps he drank it--perhapshe didn't: anyhow, the bowl was always found empty next morning. The oldCook, who had lived all her life in the family, had never forgotten togive Brownie his supper; but at last she died, and a young cook came inher stead, who was very apt to forget every thing. She was also bothcareless and lazy, and disliked taking the trouble to put a bowl of milkin the same place every night for Mr. Nobody. "She didn't believe inBrownies," she said; "she had never seen one, and seeing's believing."So she laughed at the other servants, who looked very grave, and putthe bowl of milk in its place as often as they could, without sayingmuch about it.
But once, when Brownie woke up, at his usual hour for rising--teno'clock at night, and looked round in search of his supper--which was,in fact, his breakfast--he found nothing there. At first he could notimagine such neglect, and went smelling and smelling about for his bowlof milk--it was not always placed in the same corner now--but in vain.
"This will never do," said he; and being extremely hungry, began runningabout the coal-cellar to see what he could find. His eyes were as usefulin the dark as in the light--like a pussy-cat's; but there was nothingto be seen--not even a potato paring, or a dry crust, or a well-gnawedbone, such as Tiny the terrier sometimes brought into the coal-cellarand left on the floor--nothing, in short, but heaps of coals andcoal-dust; and even a Brownie cannot eat that, you know.
"Can't stand this; quite impossible!" said the Brownie, tightening hisbelt to make his poor little inside feel less empty. He had been asleepso long--about a week, I believe, as was his habit when there wasnothing to do--that he seemed ready to eat his own head, or his boots,or any thing. 'What's to be done? Since nobody brings my supper, I mustgo and fetch it.'
He spoke quickly, for he always thought quickly, and made up his mind ina minute. To be sure it was a very little mind, like his little body;but he did the best he could with it, and was not a bad sort of oldfellow, after all. In the house he had never done any harm, and oftensome good, for he frightened away all the rats, mice, and black-beetles.Not the crickets--he liked them, as the old Cook had done: she saidthey were such cheerful creatures, and always brought luck to the house.But the young Cook could not bear them, and used to pour boiling waterdown their holes, and set basins of beer for them with little woodenbridges up to the brim, that they might walk up, tumble in, and bedrowned.
So there was not even a cricket singing in the silent house when Brownieput his head out of his coal-cellar door, which, to his surprise, hefound open. Old Cook used to lock it every night, but the young Cook hadleft that key, and the kitchen and pantry keys too, all dangling in thelock, so that any thief might have got in, and wandered all over thehouse without being found out.
"Hurrah, here's luck!" cried Brownie, tossing his cap up in the air, andbounding right through the scullery into the kitchen. It was quiteempty, but there was a good fire burning itself out--just for its ownamusement, and the remains of a capital supper spread on thetable--enough for half a dozen people being left still.
Would you like to know what there was? Devonshire cream, of course; andpart of a large dish of junket, which is something like curds and whey.Lots of bread-and-butter and cheese, and half an apple-pudding. Also agreat jug of cider and another of milk, and several half-full glasses,and no end of dirty plates, knives, and forks. All were scattered aboutthe table in the most untidy fashion, just as the servants had risenfrom their supper, without thinking to put any thing away.
Brownie screwed up his little old face and turned up his button of anose, and gave a long whistle. You might not believe it, seeing he livedin a coal-cellar; but really he l
iked tidiness, and always played hispranks upon disorderly or slovenly folk.
He wanted his supper, and oh! what a supper he dideat!--Page 11]
"Whew!" said he; "here's a chance. What a supper I'll get now!"
And he jumped on to a chair and thence to the table, but so quietly thatthe large black cat with four white paws, called Muff, because she wasso fat and soft and her fur so long, who sat dozing in front of thefire, just opened one eye and went to sleep again. She had tried to gether nose into the milk-jug, but it was too small; and the junket-dishwas too deep for her to reach, except with one paw. She didn't care muchfor bread and cheese and apple-pudding, and was very well fed besides;so, after just wandering round the table, she had jumped down from itagain, and settled herself to sleep on the hearth.
But Brownie had no notion of going to sleep. He wanted his supper, andoh! what a supper he did eat! first one thing and then another, and thentrying every thing all over again. And oh! what a lot he drank--firstmilk and then cider, and then mixed the two together in a way that wouldhave disagreed with any body except a Brownie. As it was, he was obligedto slacken his belt several times, and at last took it off altogether.But he must have had a most extraordinary capacity for eating anddrinking--since, after he had nearly cleared the table, he was just aslively as if he had had no supper at all.
Now his jumping was a little awkward, for there happened to be a cleanwhite tablecloth: as this was only Monday, it had had no time to getdirty--untidy as the Cook was. And you know Brownie lived in acoal-cellar, and his feet were black with running about in coal dust. Sowherever he trod, he left the impression behind, until at last the wholetablecloth was covered with black marks.
Not that he minded this; in fact, he took great pains to make the clothas dirty as possible; and then laughing loudly, "Ho, ho, ho!" leaped onto the hearth, and began teasing the cat; squeaking like a mouse, orchirping like a cricket, or buzzing like a fly; and altogetherdisturbing poor Pussy's mind so much, that she went and hid herself inthe farthest corner, and left him the hearth all to himself, where helay at ease till daybreak.
Then, hearing a slight noise overhead, which might be the servantsgetting up, he jumped on to the table again--gobbled up the fewremaining crumbs for his breakfast, and scampered off to hiscoal-cellar; where he hid himself under his big coal, and fell asleepfor the day.
Well, the Cook came downstairs rather earlier than usual, for sheremembered she had to clear off the remains of supper; but lo andbehold, there was nothing left to clear. Every bit of food was eatenup--the cheese looked as if a dozen mice had been nibbling at it, andnibbled it down to the very rind; the milk and cider were all drunk--andmice don't care for milk and cider, you know. As for the apple-pudding,it had vanished altogether; and the dish was licked as clean as ifBoxer, the yard-dog, had been at it in his hungriest mood.
"And my white table-cloth--oh, my clean white table-cloth! What can havebeen done to it?" cried she, in amazement. For it was all over littleblack footmarks, just the size of a baby's foot--only babies don't wearshoes with nails in them, and don't run about and climb on kitchentables after all the family have gone to bed.
Cook was a little frightened; but her fright changed to anger when shesaw the large black cat stretched comfortably on the hearth. Poor Muffhad crept there for a little snooze after Brownie went away.
"You nasty cat! I see it all now; it's you that have eaten up all thesupper; it's you that have been on my clean table-cloth with your dirtypaws."
Cook beat poor Pussy till the creature ran mewing away]
They were white paws, and as clean as possible; but the Cook neverthought of that, any more than she did of the fact that cats don'tusually drink cider or eat apple-pudding.
"I'll teach you to come stealing food in this way; take that--andthat--and that!"
Cook got hold of a broom and beat poor Pussy till the creature ranmewing away. She couldn't speak, you know--unfortunate cat! and tellpeople that it was Brownie who had done it all.
Next night Cook thought she would make all safe and sure; so, instead ofletting the cat sleep by the fire, she shut her up in the chillycoal-cellar, locked the door, put the key in her pocket, and went off tobed--leaving the supper as before.
When Brownie woke up and looked out of his hole, there was, as usual, nosupper for him, and the cellar was close shut. He peered about, to tryand find some cranny under the door to creep out at, but there was none.And he felt so hungry that he could almost have eaten the cat, who keptwalking to and fro in a melancholy manner--only she was alive, and hecouldn't well eat her alive: besides, he knew she was old, and had anidea she might be tough; so he merely said, politely, "How do you do,Mrs. Pussy?" to which she answered nothing--of course.
Something must be done, and luckily Brownies can do things which nobodyelse can do. So he thought he would change himself into a mouse, andgnaw a hole through the door. But then he suddenly remembered the cat,who, though he had decided not to eat her, might take this opportunityof eating him. So he thought it advisable to wait till she was fastasleep, which did not happen for a good while. At length, quite tiredwith walking about, Pussy turned round on her tail six times, curleddown in a corner, and fell fast asleep.
Immediately Brownie changed himself into the smallest mouse possible;and, taking care not to make the least noise, gnawed a hole in the door,and squeezed himself through, immediately turning into his proper shapeagain, for fear of accidents.
The kitchen fire was at its last glimmer; but it showed a better supperthan even last night, for the Cook had had friends with her--a brotherand two cousins--and they had been exceedingly merry. The food they hadleft behind was enough for three Brownies at least, but this one managedto eat it all up. Only once, in trying to cut a great slice of beef, helet the carving-knife and fork fall with such a clatter, that Tiny theterrier, who was tied up at the foot of the stairs, began to barkfuriously. However, he brought her her puppy, which had been left in abasket in a corner of the kitchen, and so succeeded in quieting her.
After that he enjoyed himself amazingly, and made more marks than everon the white table-cloth; for he began jumping about like a pea on atrencher, in order to make his particularly large supper agree with him.
Then, in the absence of the cat, he teased the puppy for an hour or two,till hearing the clock strike five, he thought it as well to turn into amouse again, and creep back cautiously into his cellar. He was only justin time, for Muff opened one eye, and was just going to pounce upon him,when he changed himself back into a Brownie. She was so startled thatshe bounded away, her tail growing into twice its natural size, and hereyes gleaming like round green globes. But Brownie only said, "Ha, ha,ho!" and walked deliberately into his hole.
When Cook came downstairs and saw that the same thing had happenedagain--that the supper was all eaten, and the table-cloth blacker thanever with the extraordinary footmarks, she was greatly puzzled. Whocould have done it all? Not the cat, who came mewing out of thecoal-cellar the minute she unlocked the door. Possibly a rat--but thenwould a rat have come within reach of Tiny?
"It must have been Tiny herself, or her puppy," which just came rollingout of its basket over Cook's feet. "You little wretch! You and yourmother are the greatest nuisance imaginable. I'll punish you!"
And, quite forgetting that Tiny had been safely tied up all night, andthat her poor little puppy was so fat and helpless it could scarcelystand on its legs, to say nothing of jumping on chairs and tables, shegave them both such a thrashing that they ran howling together out ofthe kitchen door, where the kind little kitchen-maid took them up in herarms.
"You ought to have beaten the Brownie, if you could catch him," saidshe, in a whisper. "He will do it again and again, you'll see, for hecan't bear an untidy kitchen. You'd better do as poor old Cook did, andclear the supper things away, and put the odds and ends safe in thelarder; also," she added, mysteriously, "if I were you, I'd put a bowlof milk behind the coal-cellar door."
"Nonsense!" an
swered the young Cook, and flounced away. But afterwardshe thought better of it, and did as she was advised, grumbling all thetime, but doing it.
Next morning the milk was gone! Perhaps Brownie had drunk it up, anyhownobody could say that he hadn't. As for the supper, Cook having safelylaid it on the shelves of the larder, nobody touched it. And thetable-cloth, which was wrapped up tidily and put in the dresser drawer,came out as clean as ever, with not a single black footmark upon it. Nomischief being done, the cat and the dog both escaped beating, andBrownie played no more tricks with any body--till the next time.
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