Edward Abbott Parry
[Used by permission of the author.]
Once upon a time there was a black beetle named Butterwops. He was very old, very wise, and had seen a great deal of the world. He had lived in a number of different houses, and was said to know more about the various qualities of sugar than a blue-bottle, and to understand the ways of men better than a cricket. Therefore, it is not to be wondered at that he became the leader of a small army of beetles, who called him “The General.” He had a thick hoarse laugh, and could tell many tales, both fierce and merry, of battles he had fought against earwigs, cockroaches, and caterpillars. But for some time his laugh had not been heard, and he had been sad and melancholy, for his army were dying by the thousands, and if things went on in the way they were going, there would soon be not a single beetle left to listen to the tales of “The General.”
The kitchen he lived in had plenty to eat in it, and was warm and comfortable, with lots of cracks in the walls and ceiling to live in during the day; but lately the master of the house had taken to spreading yellow powder over the floor and the young beetles would eat it, and it disagreed with them and they died. This yellow powder, so Butterwops told me, smelled deliciously of sugar and cheese and all the young beetles, being greedy, ate it up wherever they could find it. What happened to them after they tasted it was this: as soon as they had three mouthfuls, they felt a bad pain underneath their shell, turned over on their backs, kicked a little and died, and in the morning the cook swept them up and threw them into the garden. No wonder that Butterwops felt sad. He himself never tasted anything unless he had seen another beetle try it first and had watched him walk about for quite five minutes. That is how he came to live to be old and became general; but he told nobody about that, keeping it a secret.
Butterwops had a great-grandson called little Jimmy. He was very lively and adventurous, and was always trotting across the floor in the daytime to frighten the cook; so it is a wonder he had lived as long as he had. He did not eat the yellow powder, for he was an obedient little beetle, and always did what Butterwops told him to do. As he ran about so much in the daytime he was generally the first to hear the news, and one day, about this time, he came to Butterwops and told him that the house on the other side of the street was rented, and he had seen some people moving into it while he was sitting on the window-sill in the gloaming on Thursday evening, which was the cook’s night out.
“Fancy that!” said Butterwops. “Why I used to live in that house when I was a tiny little beetle just your size. It’s a grand old house. Not a skirting board within half an inch of the floor, cracks in all the walls and holes in the plaster. I wonder what sort of people are living in it.”
“Newly married people,” said little Jimmy, “whatever that may mean. I heard the cook say so, and the policeman told her about it.”
“Ah!” said Butterwops, rubbing his hind legs together thoughtfully; “newly married people. They will do for us. They will have lots of sugar and leave it about, and then they will get some children to live with them, and the children won’t eat fat and will make crumbs all over the floors; there will be lots to eat. We shall move.”
That night “The General” called all the beetles round him after the cook had rolled the rug up and had gone to bed, and, sitting on the heel of one of the master’s boots which were drying on the fender, explained to all the beetles that they must move across the road. “For,” said he, “there is a newly married couple over the way. Now this kind of human being eats little else than sugar, and knows nothing of the ways of the world or the habits of the beetle. Their hearts are full of kindliness, and believing others to be as good as they are, they leave the best food in the easiest places. So happy are they together, that they would not interfere with the happiness of others, even though they are black and wear shells. With them we may live for many years in health and comfort, whereas, here we die by tens and twenties every night. Arise, therefore, and follow me carefully and quickly. But when you are on the pavements in the road listen carefully for the tread of the policeman. If he comes among us while we are on the pavements he will kill many of us, for policemen have bigger feet than any other kind of men; only, luckily, they wear squeaky boots so that they may be heard coming a long way off. Now follow me and remember what I have said.”
So speaking he crawled off the boot, down across the floor, under the scullery door, along the garden walk, across the pavements, in at the opposite gateway, round to the back door of the other house; and in half an hour Butterwops, little Jimmy, and two hundred and forty-nine of the beetles were safe in their new house, having crossed the road with the loss of only three beetles. Two tumbled down a drain, and a third lost his way in trying to make a short cut across a flower bed.