THE TOMTIT AND THE BEAR
BY THE BROTHERS GRIMM
One summer day, as a Wolf and a Bear were walking together in a wood, they heard a bird singing most sweetly. “Brother,” said the Bear, “what can that bird be that is singing so sweetly?”
“Oh!” said the Wolf, “that is the king of the birds, we must take care to show him all respect.” (Now I should tell you that this bird was after all no other than the Tomtit.)
“If that is the case,” said the Bear, “I should like to see the royal palace; so pray come along and show me it.”
“Gently, my friend,” said the Wolf, “we cannot see it just yet, we must wait till the queen comes home.”
Soon afterward the queen came with food in her beak, and she and the king began to feed their young ones.
“Now for it!” said the Bear; and was about to follow them.
“Stop a little, Master Bruin,” said the Wolf, “we must wait now till the king and queen are gone again.” So they marked the hole where they had seen the nest, and went away. But the Bear, being very eager to see the palace, soon came back again, and, peeping into the nest, saw five or six young birds lying at the bottom of it.
“What nonsense!” said Bruin, “this is not a royal palace: I never saw such a filthy place in my life; and you are no royal children, you little base-born brats!”
As soon as the young tomtits heard this they were very angry, and screamed out: “We are not base-born, you stupid bear! Our father and mother are honest, good sort of people; and, depend upon it, you shall suffer for your rudeness!”
At this the Wolf and the Bear grew frightened, and ran away to their dens. But the young tomtits kept crying and screaming; and when their father and mother came home and offered them food, they all said: “We will not touch a bit; no, not though we should die of hunger, till that rascal Bruin has been punished for calling us base-born brats.”
“Make yourselves easy, my darlings,” said the old king, “you may be sure he shall get what he deserves.”
So he went out to the Bear’s den, and cried out with a loud voice, “Bruin, the bear! thou hast been very rude to our lawful children. We shall therefore make war against thee and thine, and shall never cease until thou hast been punished as thou so richly deservest.”
Now when the bear heard this, he called together the ox, the ass, the stag, the fox, and all the beasts of the earth. And the Tomtit also called on his side all the birds of the air, both great and small, and a very large army of wasps, gnats, bees, and flies, and indeed many other kinds of insects.
As the time came near when the war was to begin, the Tomtit sent out spies to see who was the leader of the enemy’s forces. So the gnat, who was by far the best spy of them all, flew backward and forward in the wood where the enemy’s troops were, and at last hid himself under a leaf on a tree close by.
The Bear, who was standing so near the tree that the gnat could hear all he said, called to the fox and said, “Reynard, you are the cleverest of all the beasts; therefore you shall be our leader and go before us to battle; but we must first agree upon some signal, by which we may know what you want us to do.”
“Behold,” said the fox, “I have a fine long, bushy tail, which is very like a plume of red feathers, and gives me a very warlike air. Now remember, when you see me raise up my tail, you may be sure that the battle is won, and you have then nothing to do but to rush down upon the enemy with all your force. On the other hand, if I drop my tail, the battle is lost, and you must run away as fast as you can.”
Now when the gnat had heard all this, she flew back to the Tomtit and told him everything that had passed.
At length the day came when the battle was to be fought. As soon as it was light, the army of beasts came rushing forward with such a fearful sound that the earth shook. King Tomtit, with his troops, came flying along also in warlike array, flapping and fluttering, and beating the air, so that it was quite frightful to hear; and both armies set themselves in order of battle upon the field.
Now the Tomtit gave orders to a troop of wasps that at the first onset they should march straight toward Captain Reynard and fixing themselves about his tail, should sting him with all their might. The wasps did as they were told; and when Reynard felt the first sting, he started aside and shook one of his legs, but still held up his tail with wonderful bravery. At the second sting he was forced to drop his tail for a moment; but when the third wasp had fixed itself, he could bear it no longer, and clapped his tail between his legs, and ran away as fast as he could.
As soon as the beasts saw this, they thought of course all was lost, and raced across the country away to their holes.
Then the king and queen of the birds flew back in joy to their children, and said: “Now, children, eat, drink, and be merry, for we have won the battle!”
But the young birds said: “No; not till Bruin has humbly begged our pardon for calling us base-born.”
So the king flew back to the bear’s den, and cried out:
“Thou villain bear! come forthwith to my nest, and humbly ask my children to forgive the insult thou hast offered them. If thou wilt not do this, every bone in thy body shall be broken.”
Then the bear was forced to crawl out of his den very sulkily, and do what the king bade him; and after that the young birds sat down together, and ate, and drank, and made merry till midnight.
WHY JIMMY SKUNK WEARS STRIPES[K]
BY THORNTON W. BURGESS
Jimmy Skunk, as everybody knows, wears a striped suit, a suit of black and white. There was a time, long, long ago, when all the Skunk family wore black. Very handsome their coats were, too, a beautiful glossy black. They were very, very proud of them, and took the greatest care of them, brushing them carefully ever so many times a day.
There was a Jimmy Skunk then, just as there is now, and he was head of all the Skunk family. Now, this Jimmy Skunk was very proud, and thought himself very much of a gentleman. He was very independent, and cared for no one. Like a great many other independent people, he did not always consider the rights of others. Indeed, it was hinted in the wood and on the Green Meadows that not all of Jimmy Skunk’s doings would bear the light of day. It was openly said that he was altogether too fond of prowling about at night, but no one could prove that he was responsible for mischief done in the night, for no one saw him. You see his coat was so black that in the darkness of the night it was not visible at all.
Now, about this time of which I am telling you, Mrs. Ruffed Grouse made a nest at the foot of the Great Pine, and in it she laid fifteen beautiful buff eggs. Mrs. Grouse was very happy, very happy indeed, and all the little meadow folks who knew of her happiness were happy, too, for they all loved shy, demure, little Mrs. Grouse. Every morning when Peter Rabbit trotted down the Lone Little Path through the wood past the Great Pine he would stop for a few minutes to chat with Mrs. Grouse. Happy Jack Squirrel would bring her the news every afternoon. The Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind would run up a dozen times a day to see how she was getting along.
One morning Peter Rabbit, coming down the Lone Little Path for his usual morning call, found a terrible state of affairs. Poor little Mrs. Grouse was heartbroken. All about the foot of the Great Pine lay the empty shells of their beautiful eggs. They had been broken and scattered this way and that.
“How did it happen?” asked Peter Rabbit.
“I don’t know,” sobbed poor little Mrs. Grouse. “In the night when I was fast asleep something pounced upon me. I managed to get away and fly up in the top of the Great Pine. In the morning I found all my eggs broken, just as you see them here.”
Peter Rabbit looked the ground over very carefully. He hunted around behind the Great Pine, he looked under the bushes, he studied the ground with a very wise air. Then he hopped off down the Lone Little Path to the Green Meadows. He stopped at the house of Johnny Chuck.
“What makes your eyes so big and round?” asked Johnny Chuck. Peter Rabbit came very close so as to whisper in Johnny Chuck’s ear, and told him all that he had seen. Together they went to Jimmy Skunk’s house. Jimmy Skunk was in bed. He was very sleepy and very cross when he came to the door. Peter Rabbit told him what he had seen.
“Too bad! Too bad!” said Jimmy Skunk, and yawned sleepily.
“Won’t you join us in trying to find out who did it?” asked Johnny Chuck.
Jimmy Skunk said he would be delighted to come, but that he had some other business that morning and he would join them in the afternoon. Peter Rabbit and Johnny Chuck went on. Pretty soon they met the Merry Little Breezes and told them the dreadful story.
“What shall we do?” asked Johnny Chuck.
“We’ll hurry over, and tell Old Dame Nature,” cried the Merry Little Breezes, “and ask her what to do.”
So away flew the Merry Little Breezes to Old Dame Nature and told her all the dreadful story. Old Dame Nature listened very attentively. Then she sent the Merry Little Breezes to all the little meadow folks to tell everyone to be at the Great Pine that afternoon. Now, whatever Old Dame Nature commanded, all the little meadow folks were obliged to do. They did not dare to disobey her.
Promptly at 4 o’clock that afternoon all the little meadow folks were gathered around the foot of the Great Pine. Brokenhearted little Mrs. Ruffed Grouse sat beside her empty nest, with all the broken shells about her.
Reddy Fox, Peter Rabbit, Johnny Chuck, Billy Mink, Little Joe Otter, Jerry Muskrat, Hooty the Owl, Bobby Coon, Sammy Jay, Blacky the Crow, Grandfather Frog, Mr. Toad, Spotty the Turtle, the Merry Little Breezes, all were there. Last of all came Jimmy Skunk. Very handsome he looked in his shining black coat, and very sorry he appeared that such a dreadful thing should have happened. He told Mrs. Grouse how badly he felt, and he loudly demanded that the culprit should be run down without delay and severely punished.
Old Dame Nature has the most smiling face in the world, but this time it was very, very grave indeed. First she asked little Mrs. Grouse to tell her story all over again that all might hear. Then each in turn was asked to tell where he had been the night before. Johnny Chuck, Happy Jack Squirrel, Striped Chipmunk, Sammy Jay, and Blacky the Crow had gone to bed when Mr. Sun went down behind the Purple Hills. Jerry Muskrat, Billy Mink, Little Joe Otter, Grandfather Frog, and Spotty the Turtle had been down in Farmer Brown’s corn-field. Hooty the Owl had been hunting in the lower end of the Green Meadows. Peter Rabbit had been down in the Berry Patch. Mr. Toad had been under the big piece of bark which he called a house. Old Dame Nature called on Jimmy Skunk last of all. Jimmy protested that he had been very, very tired and had gone to bed very early indeed, and had slept the whole night through.
Then Old Dame Nature asked Peter Rabbit what he had found among the shells that morning.
Peter Rabbit hopped out and laid three long black hairs before Old Dame Nature. “These,” said Peter Rabbit, “are what I found among the egg shells.”
Then Old Dame Nature called Johnny Chuck. “Tell us, Johnny Chuck,” said she, “what you saw when you called at Jimmy Skunk’s house this morning.”
“I saw Jimmy Skunk,” said Johnny Chuck, “and Jimmy seemed very, very sleepy. It seemed to me that his whiskers were yellow.”
“That will do,” said Old Dame Nature, and she called Old Mother West Wind.
“What time did you come down on the Green Meadows this morning?” asked Old Dame Nature.
“Just at the break of day,” said Old Mother West Wind, “as Mr. Sun was coming up from behind the Purple Hills.”
“And whom did you see so early in the morning?” asked old Dame Nature.
“I saw Bobby Coon going home from old Farmer Brown’s corn-field,” said Old Mother West Wind. “I saw Hooty the Owl coming back from the lower end of the Green Meadows. I saw Peter Rabbit down in the berry patch. Last of all, I saw something like a black shadow coming down the Lone Little Path toward the house of Jimmy Skunk.”
Everyone was looking very hard at Jimmy Skunk. Jimmy began to look very unhappy and very uneasy.
“Who wears a black coat?” asked Dame Nature.
“Jimmy Skunk!” shouted all the little meadow folks.
“What might make whiskers yellow?” asked Old Dame Nature.
No one seemed to know at first. Then Peter Rabbit spoke up. “It might be the yolk of an egg,” said Peter Rabbit.
“Who are likely to be sleepy on a bright sunny morning?” asked Old Dame Nature.
“People who have been out all night,” said Johnny Chuck, who himself always goes to bed with the sun.
“Jimmy Skunk,” said Old Dame Nature, and her voice was very stern, very stern indeed, and her face was very grave. “Jimmy Skunk, I accuse you of having broken and eaten the eggs of Mrs. Grouse. What have you to say for yourself?”
Jimmy Skunk hung his head. He hadn’t a word to say. He just wanted to sneak away by himself.
“Jimmy Skunk,” said Old Dame Nature, “because your handsome black coat, of which you are so proud, has made it possible for you to move about in the night without being seen, and because we can no longer trust you upon your honor, henceforth you and your descendants shall wear a striped coat which is the sign that you cannot be trusted. Your coat hereafter shall be black and white, that will always be visible.”
And this is why to this day Jimmy Skunk wears a striped suit of black and white.
[K] From “Old Mother West Wind,” by Thornton W. Burgess; used by permission of the author and publishers, Little, Brown & Co.
BY JOHN BENNETT
A Boy having a Pet Cat which he Wished to Feed, Said to Her, “Come, Cat, Drink this Dish of Cream; it will Keep your Fur as Soft as Silk, and Make you Purr like a Coffee-Mill.”
He had no sooner said this than the Cat, with a Great Glare of her Green Eyes, bristled her Tail like a Gun-Swab and went over the Back Fence, head first—pop!—as Mad as a Wet Hen.
And this is how she came to do so:
The story is an old one—very, very old. It may be Persian; it may be not: that is of very little moment. It is so old that if all the nine lives of all the cats that have ever lived in the world were set up together in a line, the other end of it would just reach back to the time when this occurred.
“the cat that ground the coffee in the king’s kitchen”
And this is the story:
Many, many years ago, in a country which was quite as far from anywhere else as the entire distance thither and back, there was a huge cat that ground the coffee in the King’s kitchen, and otherwise assisted with the meals.
This cat was, in truth, the actual and very father of all subsequent cats, and his name was Sooty Will, for his hair was as black as a night in a coal-hole. He was ninety years old, and his mustaches were like whisk-brooms. But the most singular thing about him was that in all his life he had never once purred nor humped up his back, although his master often stroked him. The fact was that he never had learned to purr, nor had any reason, so far as he knew, for humping up his back. And being the father of all the cats, there was no one to tell him how. It remained for him to acquire a reason, and from his example to devise a habit which cats have followed from that time forth, and no doubt will forever follow.
The King of the country had long been at war with one of his neighbors, but one morning he sent back a messenger to say that he had beaten his foeman at last, and that he was coming home for an early breakfast as hungry as three bears. “Have batter-cakes and coffee,” he directed, “hot, and plenty of ’em!”
At that the turnspits capered and yelped with glee, for batter-cakes and coffee are not cooked upon spits, and so they were free to sally forth into the city streets and watch the King’s homecoming in a grand parade.
But the cat sat down on his tail in the corner and looked cross. “Scat!” said he, with an angry caterwaul. “It is not fair that you should go and that I should not.”
“Oh, yes, it is,” said the gleeful turnspits; “turn and turn about is fair play: you saw the rat that was killed in the parlor.”
“Turn about fair play, indeed!” cried the cat. “Then all of you get to your spits; I am sure that is turn about!”
“Nay,” said the turnspits, wagging their tails and laughing. “That is over and over again, which is not fair play. ’Tis the coffee-mill that is turn and turn about. So turn about to your mill, Sooty Will; we are off to see the King!”
“turning hand-springs, head-springs, and heel-springs as they went”
With that they pranced out into the court-yard, turning hand-springs, head-springs, and heel-springs as they went, and, after giving three hearty and vociferous cheers in a grand chorus at the bottom of the garden, went capering away for their holiday.
The cat spat at their vanishing heels, sat down on his tail in the chimney-corner, and was very glum indeed.
Just then the cook looked in from the pantry. “Hullo!” he said gruffly. “Come, hurry up the coffee!” That was the way he always gave his orders.
“‘hullo!’ he said gruffly.
‘come, hurry up the coffee!’”
The black cat’s whiskers bristled. He turned to the mill with a fierce frown, his long tail going to and fro like that of a tiger in its lair; for Sooty Will had a temper like hot gunpowder, that was apt to go off sizz, whizz, bang! and no one to save the pieces. Yet, at least while the cook was by, he turned the mill furiously, as if with a right good-will.
Meantime, out in the city a glorious day came on. The sun went buzzing up the pink-and-yellow sky with a sound like that of a walking-doll’s works, or of a big Dutch clock behind a door; banners waved from the castled heights, and bugles sang from every tower; the city gates rang with the cheers of the enthusiastic crowd. Up from cellars, down from lofts, off work-benches, and out at the doors of their masters’ shops, dodging the thwacks of their masters’ straps, “pop-popping” like corks from the necks of so many bottles, came apprentices, shop-boys, knaves and scullions, crying: “God save the King! Hurrah! Hurrah! Masters and work may go to Rome; our tasks shall wait on our own sweet wills; ’t is holiday when the King comes home. God save the King! Hurrah!”
Then came the procession. There were first three regiments of trumpeters, all blowing different tunes; then fifteen regiments of mounted infantry on coal-black horses, forty squadrons of green-and-blue dragoons, and a thousand drummers and fifers in scarlet and blue and gold, making a thundering din with their rootle-te-tootle-te-tootle-te-rootle; and pretty well up to the front in the ranks was the King himself, bowing and smiling to the populace, with his hand on his breast; and after him the army, all in shining armor, just enough pounded to be picturesque, miles on miles of splendid men, all bearing the trophies of glorious war, and armed with lances and bows and arrows, falchions, morgensterns, martels-de-fer, and other choice implements of justifiable homicide, and the reverse, such as hautboys and sackbuts and accordions and dudelsacks and Scotch bagpipes—a glorious sight!
a part of the grand procession
And, as has been said before, the city gates rang with the cheers of the crowd, crimson banners waved over the city’s pinnacled summits, and bugles blew, trumpets brayed, and drums beat until it seemed that wild uproar and rich display had reached its high millennium.
The black cat turned the coffee-mill. “My oh! my oh!” he said. "It certainly is not fair that those bench-legged turnspits with feet like so much leather should see the King marching home in his glory, while I, who go shod, as it were, in velvet, should hear only the sound through the scullery windows. It is not fair. It is no doubt true that “The cat may mew, and the dog shall have his day,” but I have as much right to my day as he; and has it not been said from immemorial time that ‘A cat may look at a king’? Indeed it has, quite as much as that the dog may have his day. I will not stand it; it is not fair. A cat may look at a king; and if any cat may look at a king, why, I am the cat who may. There are no other cats in the world; I am the only one. Poh! the cook may shout till his breath gives out, he cannot frighten me; for once I am going to have my fling!”
So he forthwith swallowed the coffee-mill, box, handle, drawer-knobs, coffee-well, and all, and was off to see the King.
So far, so good. But, ah! the sad and undeniable truth, that brightest joys too soon must end! Triumphs cannot last forever, even in a land of legends. There comes a reckoning.
When the procession was past and gone, as all processions pass and go, vanishing down the shores of forgetfulness; when barons, marquises, dukes, and dons were gone, with their pennants and banners; when the last lancers had gone prancing past and were lost to sight down the circuitous avenue, Sooty Will, with drooping tail, stood by the palace gate, dejected. He was sour and silent and glum. Indeed, who would not be, with a coffee-mill on his conscience? To own up to the entire truth, the cat was feeling decidedly unwell; when suddenly the cook popped his head in at the scullery entry, crying, “How now, how now, you vagabonds! The war is done, but the breakfast is not. Hurry up, scurry up, scamper and trot! The cakes are all cooked and are piping hot! Then why is the coffee so slow?” The King was in the dining-hall, in dressing-gown and slippers, irately calling for his breakfast!
“he forthwith swallowed the coffee-mill”
The shamefaced, guilty cat ran hastily down the scullery stairs and hid under the refrigerator, with such a deep inward sensation of remorse that he dared not look the kind cook in the face. It now really seemed to him as if everything had gone wrong with the world, especially his own insides. This any one will readily believe who has ever swallowed a coffee-mill. He began to weep copiously.
“and was off to see the king”
The cook came into the kitchen. “Where is the coffee?” he said; then, catching sight of the secluded cat, he stooped, crying, “Where is the coffee?”
“the cat was feeling decidedly unwell”
The cat sobbed audibly. “Some one must have come into the kitchen while I ran out to look at the King!” he gasped, for there seemed to him no way out of the scrape but by telling a plausible untruth. “Some one must have come into the kitchen and stolen it!” And with that, choking upon the handle of the mill, which projected into his throat, he burst into inarticulate sobs.
“it seemed as if everything had gone wrong”
The cook, who was, in truth, a very kind-hearted man, sought to reassure the poor cat. “There; it is unfortunate, very; but do not weep; thieves thrive in kings’ houses!” he said, and, stooping, he began to stroke the drooping cat’s back to show that he held the weeping creature blameless.
Sooty Will’s heart leaped into his throat.
“‘where is the coffee?’ said the cook”
“Oh, oh!” he half gasped, “oh, oh! If he rubs his great hand down my back he will feel the corners of the coffee-mill through my ribs as sure as fate! Oh, oh! I am a gone cat!” And with that, in an agony of apprehension lest his guilt and his falsehood be thus presently detected, he humped up his back as high in the air as he could, so that the corners of the mill might not make bumps in his sides and that the mill might thus remain undiscovered.
But, alas! he forgot that coffee-mills turn. As he humped up his back to cover his guilt, the coffee-mill inside rolled over, and, as it rolled, began to grind—rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr!
“Oh, oh! you have swallowed the mill!” cried the cook.
“out stepped the genius that lived under the great ovens”
“No, no,” cried the cat; “I was only thinking aloud.”
At that out stepped the Genius that Lived under the Great Ovens, and, with his finger pointed at the cat, said in a frightful voice, husky with wood-ashes: “Miserable and pusillanimous beast! By telling a falsehood to cover a wrong you have only made bad matters worse. For betraying man’s kindness to cover your shame, a curse shall be upon you and all your kind until the end of the world. Whenever men stroke you in kindness, remembrance of your guilt shall make you hump up your back with shame, as you did to avoid being found out; and in order that the reason for this curse shall never be forgotten, whenever man is kind to a cat the sound of the grinding of a coffee-mill inside shall perpetually remind him of your guilt and shame!”
With that the Genius vanished in a cloud of smoke.
And it was even as he said. From that day Sooty Will could never abide having his back stroked without humping it up to conceal the mill within him; and never did he hump up his back but the coffee-mill began slowly to grind, rr-rr-rr-rr! inside him; so that, even in the prime of life, before his declining days had come, being seized upon by a great remorse for these things which might never be amended, he retired to a home for aged and reputable cats, and there, so far as the records reveal, lived the remainder of his days in charity and repentance.
But the curse has come down even to the present day, as the Genius that Lived under the Great Ovens said, and still maintains, though cats have probably forgotten the facts, and so, when stroked, hump up their backs and purr as if these actions were a matter of pride instead of being a blot upon their family record.
“he retired to a home for
aged and reputable cats”
