all sorts, very industrious indeed must have been the lives ofthe "wee, tim'rous, cowerin' beasties" who formerly lived there. ThenMary built unto herself a new home in that sweet retirement, and veryhappy she seemed to be.
Not happening to possess a cat just then, the mice had it all their ownway; they increased and multiplied, if they didn't replenish thekitchen, and Mary reigned among them--a Bohemian princess, a gipsyqueen. I used to leave a lamp burning in the kitchen on purpose towatch their antics, and before going to bed, and when all the house wasstill, I used to go and peep carefully through a little hole in thedoor. And there Fairy Mary would be, sure enough, racing round andround the kitchen like a mad thing, chased by at least a dozen mice, andevery one of them squeaking with glee. But if I did but laugh--which,for the life of me, I could not sometimes help--off bolted the mice,leaving Fairy Mary to do an attitude wherever she might be. Then Marywould sniff the air, and listen, and so, scenting danger, hop off,kangaroo fashion, to her home in the pantry corner.
It really did seem a pity to break up this pleasant existence of Mary's,but it had to be done. Mice eat so much, and destroy more. My mice,with Mary at their head, were perfect sappers and miners. They thoughtnothing of gutting a loaf one night, and holding a ball in it the next.So, eventually, Mary was captured, and once more confined to her cage,which she insisted upon having hung up in our sitting-room, where shecould see all that went on. Here she never attempted, even once, tonibble her cage, but if hung out in the kitchen nothing could keep herin.
At this stage of her existence, the arrangements for Mary's comfort wereas follows: she dwelt in a nice roomy cage, with two perches in it,which she very much enjoyed. She had a glass dish for her food, andanother for her milk, and the floor of the cage was covered with pineshavings, regularly changed once in two days, and among which Mary builther nest.
Now, Fairy Mary has a very strong resemblance to a miniature polar bear,that is, she has all the motions of one, and does all his attitudes--infact, acts the part of Bruin to perfection. This first gave me thenotion--which I can highly recommend to the reader--of making Mary notonly amusing, but ornamental to our sitting-room as well, for it must beconfessed that a plain wooden cage in one's room is neither graceful norpretty, however lovely the inmate may be. And here is how I managed it.At the back of our sitting-room is the kitchen, the two apartmentsbeing separated by a brick wall. Right through this wall a hole ortunnel was drilled big enough for Mary to run through with ease. Thekitchen end of this tunnel was closed by means of a little door, whichwas so constructed that by merely touching an unseen spring in thesitting-room, it could be opened at will. Against the kitchen end ofthe tunnel a cage for Mary was hung. This was to be her dining-room,her nest, and sleeping-berth. Now, for the sitting-room end of thetunnel, I had a painting made on a sheet of glass, over two feet long byeighteen inches high. The scene represented is from a sketch in NorthGreenland, which I myself had made, a scene in the frozen sea--the usualblue sky which you always find over the ice, an expanse of snow, a bearin the distance, and a ship frozen in and lying nearly on her beam ends.A dreary enough look-out, in all conscience, but true to nature.
There was a hole cut in the lower end of this glass picture, to matchthe diameter of the tunnel, and the picture was then fastened closeagainst the wall. So far you will have followed me. The next thing wasto frame this glass picture in a kind of cage, nine inches deep; thepeculiarity of this cage being, that the front of it was a sheet ofclear white glass, the sides only being of brass wire; the floor and topwere of wood, the former being painted white, like the snow, and thelatter blue, to form a continuation of the sky; a few imitation icebergswere glued on here and there, and one of these completely hides theentrance to the tunnel, forming a kind of rude cave--Fairy Mary's cave.
In the centre of this cage was raised a small bear's pole steps and allcomplete. We call it the North Pole. The whole forms a very prettyornament indeed, especially when Mary is acting on this little Greenlandstage.
Mary knows her name, and never fails to come to call, and indeed sheknows a very great deal that is said to her. Whenever she pops throughher tunnel, the little door at the kitchen end closes behind her, andshe is a prisoner in Greenland until I choose to send her off. If sheis in her kitchen cage, and I wish her to come north, and disportherself to the amusement of myself or friends--one touch to the spring,one cabalistic word, and there comes the little performer, all alive andfull of fun.
Now I wish the reader to remember that Fairy Mary is not only the veryessence of cleanliness, but the pink of politeness as well. Hence, Maryis sometimes permitted to come to table. And Mary is an honest rat.She has been taught to look at everything, but handle nothing.Therefore there cannot be the slightest possible objection to her eithersitting on my shoulder on one end, and gazing wonderingly around her, orexamining my ear, or making a nest of my beard, or running down my arm,and having a dance over the tablecloth. I think I said Mary was anhonest rat, but she has just one tiny failing in the way of honesty,which, as her biographer, I am bound to mention. She can't quite resistthe temptation of a bit of butter. But she helps herself to just onelittle handful, and does it, too, with such a graceful air, that, forthe life of me, I couldn't be angry with her.
Well, except a morsel of butter, Mary will touch nothing on the table,nor will she take anything from your hand, if you offer it to her everso coaxingly. She prefers to eat her meals in Greenland, or on theNorth Pole itself.
Mary's tastes as regards food are various. She is partial to a bit ofcheese, but would not touch bacon for the world. This is ratherstrange, because it was exactly the other way with her brother andsister.
The great treat of the twenty-four hours with Mary is to get down in theevening, when the lamps are lighted, to have a scamper on the table.Her cage is brought in from the kitchen, and set down, and the door ofit thrown open. This cage thus becomes Mary's harbour of refuge, fromwhich she can sally forth and play tricks. Anything you place on thetable is seized forthwith, and carried inside. She will carry an applenearly as big as herself, and there will not be much of it left in themorning; for one of Mary's chief delights is to have a little feast allto herself, when the lights are out. Lettuce leaves she is partial to,and will carry them to her cage as fast as you can throw them down toher. She rummages the work-basket, and hops off with every thimble shecan find.
After Fairy Mary's private establishment was broken up in the kitchen,it became necessary to clean up the corner of the pantry where she haddwelt. Then was Mary's frugality and prudence as a housewife made clearto the light of day I could hardly be supposed to tell you everythingshe had stored up, but I remember there were crusts of bread, bits ofcheese, lumps of dog-biscuit, halves of apples, small potatoes, andcrumbs of sugar, and candle ends, and bones and herrings' heads, besidesone pair of gold sleeve-links, an odd shirt-stud, a glass stopper from ascent-bottle, brass buttons, and, to crown the lot, one silverthreepenny-piece of the sterling coin of the realm.
And that is the story of my rat; and I'm sure if you knew her you, too,would like her. She is such a funny, wee, sweet little _mite_ of aMary.
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Note 1. "The Cruise of the _Snowbird_" published by Messrs. Hodder andStoughton, Paternoster Row.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
ONLY A DOG.
"Old dog, you are dead--we must all of us die-- You are gone, and gone whither? Can any one say? I trust you may live again, somewhat as I, And haply, `go on to perfection'--some way!"
Tupper.
Poor little Fairy Mary, the favourite pet of Aileen Aroon, went the wayof all rats at last. She was not killed. No cat took her. Our owncats were better-mannered than to touch a pet. But we all went away ona summer holiday, and as it was not convenient to take every one of ourpets with us, Mary was left at home in charge of the servants. When wereturned she was gone, dead and buried. She had succumbe
d to a tumourin the head which was commencing ere we started.
I think Aileen missed her very much, for she used to lie and watch theempty cage for an hour at a time, thinking no doubt that by-and-by FairyMary would pop out of some of her usual haunts.
"Dolls" was one of Aileen's contemporaries, and one that she had nosmall regard for. Dolls was a dog, and a very independent little fellowhe was, as his story which I here give will show.
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DOLLS: HIS LITTLE STORY.
There was a look in the dark-brown eyes of Dolls that was verycaptivating when you saw it. I say when you saw it, because it wasn'talways you could see it, for Dolls' face was so covered with hisdishevelled locks, that the only wonder was that he could find his wayabout at all.
Dolls was a Scotch terrier--a _real_ Scotch terrier. Reddish or sandywas he
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