The Life and Perambulations of a Mouse

by Dorothy Kilner

Scarcely had I made this reflection, when the boy called out, upon seeing me move, ‘Lud! what have I got here?’ at the same instant tossing the handful of snow from him in a violent hurry, without attempting to press it into a ball. Over I turned head and heels, wondering what further would be my fate, when I was happy to find I fell unhurt upon some hay, which was laid in the yard to fodder the cows and horses. Here I lay some time, so frightened by my adventure, as to be unable to move, and my little heart beat as if it would have burst its way through my breast; nor were my apprehensions at all diminished by the approach of a man, who gathered the hay up in his arms, and carried it (with me in the midst of it) into the stable; where, after littering down the horses, he left me once more to my own reflections.

After he had been gone some time, and all things were quiet, I began to look about me, and soon found my way into a corn bin, where I made a most delicious supper, and slept free from any disturbance till the morning, when fearing I might be discovered, in case he should want any of the oats for his horses, I returned by the same place I had entered, and hid myself in one corner of the hayloft, where I passed the whole of the day more free from alarm than often falls to the lot of any of my species, and in the evening again returned to regale myself with corn, as I had done the night before. The great abundance with which I was surrounded, strongly tempted me to continue where I was; but then the thoughts of my absent brother embittered all my peace, and the advice of my mother came so much across my mind, that I determined before the next morning I would again venture forth and seek my fortune and my brother. Accordingly, after having eaten a very hearty meal, I left the bin, and was attempting to get out of the stable, when one of the horses being taken suddenly ill, made so much noise with his kicking and struggling, as to alarm the family, and the coachman entering with a lantern in his hand, put me into such consternation, that I ran for shelter into the pocket of a great coat, which hung up upon a peg next the harness of the horses. Here I lay snug for some hours, not daring to stir, as I smelt the footsteps of a cat frequently pass by, and heard the coachman extol her good qualities to a man who accompanied him into the stable; saying she was the best mouser in the kingdom. ‘I do not believe,’ added he, ‘I have a mouse in the stable or loft, she keeps so good a lookout. For the last two days I lent her to the cook, to put into her pantry, but I have got her back again, and I would not part with her for a crown; no, not for the best silver crown that ever was coined in the Tower.’ Then, through a little moth hole in the lining of the coat, I saw him lift her up, stroke her, and put her upon the back of one of the horses, where she stretched herself out, and went to sleep.

In this situation I did not dare to stir, I had too often seen how eager cats are to watch mice, to venture out of the pocket, whilst she was so near me, especially as I did not at all know the holes or cracks round the stable, and should, therefore, had she jumped down, been quite at a loss where to run. So I determined to continue where I was till either hunger forced me, or the absence of the cat gave a better opportunity of escaping. But scarce had I taken up this resolution when the coachman again entered, and suddenly taking the coat from the peg, put it on, and marched out with me in his pocket.

It is utterly impossible to describe my fear and consternation at this event, to jump out whilst in the stable exposed me to the jaws of the cat, and to attempt it when out of doors was but again subjecting myself to be frozen to death, for the snow continued still on the ground; yet to stay in his pocket was running the chance of suffering a still more dreadful death by the barbarous hands of man; and nothing did I expect, in case he should find me, but either to be tortured like Softdown, or given to be the sport of his favorite cat—a fate almost as much dreaded as the other. However it was soon put out of my power to determine, for whilst I was debating in my own mind what course I had better take, he mounted the coachbox, and drove away with me in his pocket, till he came to a large house, about a mile distant from this place; there he put down the company he had in the coach, and then drove into the yard. But he had not been there many moments before the coachman of the family he was come to, invited him into the kitchen to warm himself, drink a mug of ale, and eat a mouthful of cold meat. As soon as he entered, and had paid the proper compliments to the Mrs. Betties and Mollies at the place, he pulled off his great coat, and hung it across the back of his chair. I instantly seized the first opportunity and whilst they were all busy assembling round the luncheon table, made my escape, and ran under a cupboard door close to the chimney, where I had an opportunity of seeing and hearing all that passed, part of which conversation I will relate to you.

‘Well, Mr. John,’ said a footman, addressing himself to the man whose pocket I had just left, ‘how fare you? Are you pretty hearty? You look well, I am sure.’ ‘Aye, and so I am, replied he. ‘I never was better in all my life; I live comfortably, have a good master and mistress, eat and drink bravely, and what can a man wish for more? For my part I am quite contented, and if I do but continue to enjoy my health, I am sure I shall be very ungrateful not to be so.’ ‘That’s true,’ said the other, ‘but the misfortune of it is, people never know when they are well off, but are apt to fret and wish and wish and fret, for something or other all their lives, and so never have any enjoyment. Now for my own part, I must needs confess, that I cannot help wishing I was a gentleman, and think I should be a deal happier if I was.’ ‘Pshaw!’ replied John, ‘I don’t like now to hear a man say so; it looks as if you are discontented with the state in which you are placed, and depend upon it, you are in the one that is fittest for you, or you would not have been put into it. And as for being happier if you were a gentleman, I don’t know what to say to it. To be sure, to have a little more money in one’s pocket, nobody can deny that it would be very agreeable; and to be at liberty to come in and go out when one pleased, to be sure would be very comfortable. But still, Bob, still you may assure yourself, that no state in this world is free from care, and if we were turned into lords, we should find many causes for uneasiness. So here’s your good health,’ said he, lifting the mug to his mouth, ‘wishing, my lad, you may be contented, cheerful, and good humoured; for without these three requisites, content, cheerfulness, and good humour, no one person upon earth, rich or poor, old or young, can ever feel comfortable or happy; and so here’s to you, I say.’ ‘And here’s the same good wishes to you,’ said a clean decent cook-woman servant, who took up the mug upon John’s putting it down. ‘Content, cheerfulness, and good humour, I think was the toast.’ Then wiping her mouth, as she began her speech, she added, ‘and an excellent one it is: I wish all folks would mind it, and endeavour to acquire three such good qualifications.’ ‘I am sure,’ rejoined another female servant, whose name I heard was Sally, ‘I wish so too: at least I wish Miss Mary would try to gain a little more of the good humour; for I never came near such a cross crab in my life as it is. I declare I hate the sight of the girl, she is such a proud little minx she would not vouchsafe to speak to a poor servant for the world; as if she thought because we are poorer, we were therefore not of the same nature: her sisters, I think are worth ten of her, they always reply so civilly if a body speaks to them, and say, “Yes, if you please, Mrs. Sally, or No, thank you, Mr. Bob;” or “I should be obliged to you if you would do so and so, Mrs. Nelly,” and not plain yes or no, as she does; and well too if you can get even that from her; for sometimes I declare she will not deign to give one any answer at all.’ ‘Aye, that is a sure thing she won’t,’ replied the maid servant who first drank, ‘it is a sad thing she should behave so; I can’t think, for my part, where she learns it; I am sure neither her papa nor mamma set her the example of it, for they always speak as pretty and as kind as it is possible to do; and I have heard, with my own ears, my mistress tell her of it twenty and twenty times, but she will do so. I am sure it is a sad thing that she should, for she will always make people dislike her. I am sure, if young gentlemen and ladies did not know how it makes people love them to speak civilly and kind, they would take great care not to behave like Miss Mary. Do you know, the other day, when Mrs. Lime’s maid brought little Miss Peggy to see my mistress, when she went away, she made a courtesy to Miss Mary, and said, “Good morning to you, Miss.” And would you think it, the child stood like a stake, and never returned it so much as by a nod of the head, nor did she open her lips. I saw by her looks the maid took notice of it, and I am sure I have such a regard for the family, that I felt quite ashamed of her behaviour.’ ‘Oh! she served me worse than that,’ resumed Sally, ‘for, would you believe it, the other day I begged her to be so kind as to let her mamma know I wanted to speak with her; and I did not choose to go into the room myself, because I was dirty, and there was company there; but for all I desired her over and over only just to step in (and she was at play close to the door) yet, could you suppose it possible, she was ill-natured enough to refuse me, and would not do it at last.’ ‘Well, if ever I heard the like of that!’ exclaimed John, whose pocket I had been in. ‘I think that was being cross indeed, and if a child of mine was to behave in that surly manner, I would whip it to death almost. I abominate such unkind doings, let everyone, I say, do as they like to be done by, and that is the only way to be happy, and the only way to deserve to be so; for if folks will not try to be kind, and oblige others, why should anybody try to please them? And if Miss Mary was my girl, and chose to behave rude and cross to the servants, if I was her papa, I would order them to refuse doing anything for her. I would soon humble her pride I warrant you, for nobody should make her puddings, or cut her bread, or do anything for her till she learned to be kind, and civil, and thankful too, for all that was done for her. I have no notion, for my part, for a child to give herself such airs for nothing; and because her parents happen to have a little more money in their pockets, for that reason to think she may be rude to poor folks; but though servants are poor, still surely they are richer than she is; I should like to ask her how much she has got? and which way she came by it? A child I am sure is no richer than a beggar, for they have not a farthing that is not given them through mere bounty; whereas a servant who works for his living, has a right and just claim to his wages, and may truly call them his own; but a child has not one farthing that is not its parents. So here’s my service to you, Miss,’ said he, (again lifting the ale-mug to his mouth) ‘and wishing her a speedy reformation of manners, I drink to her very good health.’

John drank to the bottom of the mug, and then shaking the last drop into the ashes under the grate, he told the following story, as he sat swinging the mug by its handle across his two forefingers, which he had joined for that purpose.

‘When my father was a young man he lived at one Mr. Speedgo’s, as upper footman: they were vastly rich. Mr. Speedgo was a merchant, and by good luck he gathered gold as fast as his neighbours would pick up stones (as a body may say). So they kept two or three carriages, there was a coach, and a chariot, and a phaeton, and I can’t tell what besides, and a power of servants you may well suppose to attend them all; and very well they lived, with plenty of victuals and drink. But though they wanted for nothing still they never much loved either their master or mistress, they used to give their orders in so haughty and imperious a manner; and if asked a civil question, answer so shortly, as if they thought their servants not worthy of their notice: so that, in short, no one loved them, nor their children either, for they brought them up just like themselves, to despise everyone poorer than they were; and to speak as cross to their servants as if they had been so many adders they were afraid would bite them.

‘I have heard my father say, that if Master Speedgo wanted his horse to be got ready, he would say, “Saddle my horse!” in such a displeasing manner as made it quite a burthen to do anything for him. Or if the young ladies wanted a piece of bread and butter, or cake, they would say, “Give me a bit of cake;” or, if they added the word pray to it, they spoke in such a grumpy way, as plainly showed they thought themselves a deal better than their servants; forgetting that an honest servant is just as worthy a member of society as his master, and whilst he behaves well, as much deserving of civility as anybody. But to go on with my story. I have already told you Mr. Speedgo was very rich and very proud, nor would he on any account suffer anyone to visit at his house whom he thought below him, as he called it; or at least, if he did, he always took care to behave to them in such a manner, as plainly to let them know he thought he showed a mighty favour in conversing with them.

‘Among the rest of the servants there was one Molly Mount, as good a hearted girl, my father says, as ever lived: she had never received much education, because her parents could not afford to give her any, and she learned to read after she was at Mr. Speedgo’s from one of the housemaids, who was kind enough to teach her a little; but you may suppose, from such sort of teaching, she was no very good scholar. However, she read well enough to be able to make out some chapters in the Bible; and an excellent use she made of them, carefully fulfilling every duty she there found recommended as necessary for a Christian to practice. She used often to say she was perfectly contented in her station, and only wished for more money that she might have it in her power to do more good. And sometimes, when she was dressing and attending the young ladies of the family, she would advise them to behave prettier than they did; telling them, “That by kindness and civility they would be so far from losing respect, that, on the contrary, they would much gain it. For we cannot (she would very truly say) have any respect for those people who seem to forget their human nature, and behave as if they thought themselves superior to the rest of their fellow-creatures. Young ladies and gentlemen have no occasion to make themselves very intimate or familiar with their servants; but everybody ought to speak civilly and good-humouredly, let it be to whom it may: and if I was a lady I should make it a point never to look cross or speak gruffly to the poor, for fear they should think I forgot I was of the same human nature as they were.” By these kind of hints, which every now and then she would give to the misses, they were prodigiously offended, and complained of her insolence, as they called it, to their mamma, who very wrongly, instead of teaching them to behave better, joined with them in blaming Molly for her freedom, and, to show her displeasure at her conduct, put on a still haughtier air, whenever she spoke to her, than she did to any other of the servants. Molly, however, continued to behave extremely well, and often very seriously lamented in the kitchen the wrong behaviour of the family. “I don’t mind it,” she would say, “for my own part; I know that I do my duty, and their cross looks and proud behaviour can do me no real harm: but I cannot help grieving for their sakes; it distresses me to think that people who ought to know better, should, by their ill conduct, make themselves so many enemies, when they could so easily gain friends—I am astonished how anybody can act so foolishly.”

‘In this sensible manner she would frequently talk about the sin as well as the folly of pride. And one day, as she was talking to her fellow-servants, rather louder than in prudence she ought to have done, her two young ladies overheard her; and the next time she went to dress them, they enquired what it was she had been saying to the other maids. “Indeed, ladies,” said she, “I hope you will excuse my telling you. I think, if you give yourselves time to reflect a little, you will not insist upon knowing, as it is beneath such rich ladies as you are, to concern yourselves with what poor servants talk about.” This answer did not, however, satisfy them, and they positively commanded her to let them know. Molly was by far too good a woman to attempt to deceive anyone; she therefore replied, “If, ladies, you insist upon knowing what I said, I hope you will not take anything amiss that I may tell you, thus compelled as I am by your commands. You must know then, Miss Betsy and Miss Rachael, that I was saying how sad a thing it was for people to be proud because they are rich; or to fancy, because they happen to have a little more money, that for that reason they are better than their servants, when in reality the whole that makes one person better than another is, having superior virtues, being kinder and more good natured, and readier to assist and serve their fellow-creatures; these are the qualifications, I was saying, that make people beloved, and not being possessed of money. Money may, indeed, procure servants to do their business for them, but it is not in the power of all the riches in the world to purchase the love and esteem of anyone. What a sad thing then it is, when gentlefolks behave so as to make themselves despised; and that will ever be the case with all those who, like (excuse me, ladies, you insisted upon my telling you what I said) Miss Betsy, and Miss Rachael, and Master James, show such contempt to all their inferiors. Nobody could wish children of their fortunes to make themselves too free, or play with their servants; but if they were little kings and queens, still they ought to speak kind and civil to everyone. Indeed our king and queen would scorn to behave like the children of this family, and if—” She was going on, but they stopped her, saying, “If you say another word, we will push you out of the room this moment, you rude, bold, insolent woman; you ought to be ashamed of speaking so disrespectfully of your betters; but we will tell our mamma, that we will, and she won’t suffer you to allow your tongue such liberties.” “If,” replied Molly, “I have offended you, I am sorry for it, and beg your pardon, ladies; I am sure I had no wish to do so; and you should remember that you both insisted upon my telling you what I had been saying.” “So we did,” said they, “but you had no business to say it all; and I promise you my mamma shall know it.”