Chapter V
TheGolden Age children said that they didn't like to play with grown folks; after people got to be thirty or ninety they thought they became very uninteresting, and didn't have the right kind of feelings; unless they were Princes and went on adventures.
Miss Muffet didn't agree with this because some of her best friends were elderly peasants whose faces were all puckered up because they had beensmiling for so many years. She wished, though, that they were not so shy.
The shyest persons in the roomThe shyest persons in the room
"I suppose it's because they are not used to going to parties; neither am I, for that matter, but then I'm not so much used as they are tonotgoing."
Perhaps the shyest persons in the room were an old German shoemaker and his wife, whom Miss Muffet had for a long time loved and admired, though they had not known it. Indeed, they didn't know that any one was ever admired unless he had found a pot of gold or done something equally praiseworthy. The shoemaker had never done anything but make shoes, and his wife did the cooking and made the clothes for the family. When they received the invitation to the party, they were greatly astonished and thought it must be a mistake, but the village priest, who read the letter, told them that it was certainly intended for them, though why they were invited was a mystery. When the priest told them that it was a mystery, they knew that it was so, and came along bowing and curtsying as if all the persons they met were their betters, though really only one or two were half so good. Miss Muffet ran to them and put her hands in theirs.
Scampering off into the darkScampering off into the dark
"I have just loved you since the time I heard what you did for the little elves who used to come at night after you had gone to bed and finish your work for you. Some people take what's done for them and think no more about it except that they're lucky; but you sat up till midnight and peepedinto the room where the elves were working, and saw that they didn't have enough clothes to keep them warm. Then you made each one a shirt and a coat and waistcoat and a pair of trousers and a little pair of shoes. What fun it must have been, next night, to watch them putting on their things and scampering off into the dark. I never heard of elves being dressed up like that."
The shoemaker and his wife laughed heartily as they remembered how funny the elves were. The wife confessed that the garments didn't fit closely, though she made them like her husband's, only smaller.
"Elves are not so square, are they?" asked Miss Muffet.
"No," said the shoemaker's wife; "but their clothes are. That's the only pattern I have."
"I suppose they are coming to the party? I sent a general invitation to Elf-land. There is to be elfin music and a frolic for them. I thought they might like it better to have their own games. Your elves can't say they have nothing to wear, because that wouldn't be true."
But though she looked everywhere for them, nowhere could she see the little elves in square coats and trousers. When the refreshments were served,Mr. Spider noticed that everything went remarkably smoothly, and there was more of all kinds of provisions than he had ordered. He said he had no doubt but that the little elves were helping in the kitchen.
"It would be just like them; the little dears!" said Miss Muffet.
The shoemaker felt very much more at home when he met a young fellow named Hans who had come from the same village. He was not the Hans who married Grettel, but the one whom Miss Muffet had often heard of because he traded a horse for a cow, the cow for a pig, the pig for a goose, and so on, all the way home. This caused a good deal of talk in the neighborhood, and some of the villagers thought he wasn't much of a business man.
Hans, however, was perfectly satisfied with himself, and was quite ready to talk.
"The secret of being a trader," he said, "is to be quick about it. You must not stop to think: that's where you lose time. If I had stopped to think, I should have brought the horse home with me, and I might have had it on my hands yet. There are ever so many people grumbling about the care of their property; they say it is a burdento them. I tell them that it's all their own fault. If they kept their eyes open, they would find plenty of ways of getting rid of it."
Hans had such a shrewd twinkle in his eyes that Miss Muffet felt sure that he would always get the best of a bargain, no matter how it turned out.
While Hans was talking, she noticed a little man who looked like a tailor.
"Didn't you start on a journey once," she asked, "with only a piece of cheese and an old hen in your wallet?"
"Yes," he answered; "but that was a good while ago."
"I thought you must be the one. And you fooled the giant, and when he squeezed a stone till water came out of it, you squeezed your cheese till the whey ran out, and he thought your cheese was a stone, and that you squeezed harder than he did. And he never saw through any of your tricks, though I should have thought that even a giant would have suspected. Are all giants so stupid?"
The tailor said that not all of them were so stupid, though fortunately a great many were, and generally when they grew beyond a certain size, something happened to their heads.
"If it weren't for that, Miss Muffet, there wouldbe no room for us common people on the earth. The giants would eat up everything. Now and then there is a young giant like Thumbling who is active and keeps his wits about him. But Thumbling was very little to begin with. Most giants get foolish when they grow up, and then we can put an end to them."
When the talk got upon giants, it was astonishing to see what an eager crowd gathered around the tailor. There were some knights in armor who listened unconcernedly, for they knew that giants could do them no harm; but it was different with the tailors and fishermen and ploughmen. They had suffered so much that they could not speak of a giant without bitterness.
"But aren't there good giants?" asked Miss Muffet.
"I never heard of one," said the tailor, "except Christopher, and he is a saint and learned how to fast. It isn't a question of their being good: the trouble with them is that they are too big. It takes too much to support them. They eat us out of house and home. We can't get along peaceably till we are all more of a size."
They were all of that opinion, and the stories which they applauded were of the kind where alittle man gets the better of a big one. Miss Muffet could not object to this, because it was the kind she liked best herself.
"I never have been so much afraid of giants," she said, "since I learned about their diseases. They are not nearly so strong as they look. There was Giant Despair,—'in sunshiny weather he fell into fits.' It was while he was having a fit, you know, that Christian and Hopeful got away. If I were going where there were bad giants, I should go in sunshiny weather."
"I don't think you would have any trouble, my dear," said the shoemaker, "for you would take the sunshine with you."
And then he laughed to think of Giant Despair tumbling over in a fit when he caught sight of Miss Muffet. For though the shoemaker was a very kind man, he had no sympathy for giants.
Chapter VI
Therewere so many interesting things going on at the party that Miss Muffet almost forgot the Serious Symposium. When she did remember it, she was very much troubled.
"What will Rollo think about me for being so negligent! I invited him particularly to come to a symposium, and now I don't even know how it is done."
"I am sorry to be so late""I am sorry to be so late"
The spider, however, told her that he had secured a hall up two flights, and had arranged the chairs and a table, which were all the arrangements necessaryfor a meeting. He had seen a number of serious persons going upstairs, and he had no doubt that it was a success.
When she reached the hall, the papers had all been read and discussed, and the Little Old Woman, who was in the chair, was just announcing that the next business before the house was to adjourn.
"I am sorry to be so late," said Miss Muffet, "and to miss hearing the papers."
"If that's the case," said the Little Old Woman, "we will have them all over again. The speakers will read slowly, so that the papers will go further."
"Oh, please don't on my account!" cried Miss Muffet, all in a tremble. "Don't let me interfere with your adjourning. I know that must be important business."
The Little Old Woman said that it was the most important business of the meeting.
"Does it take long?" asked Miss Muffet.
"Not if you know how to do it," said the Little Old Woman.
"Then I will just sit down and watch it."
The Little Old Woman rapped upon the table with a huge button-hook, and went about thebusiness so briskly that before Miss Muffet knew what had happened, the meeting had adjourned.
"Were the papers so quick?" she asked.
"No, they weren't; papers are never that way."
"What were they about?"
"The white ones were about 'Child Study,' and the yellow ones were about 'Obedience to Parents' and 'Not Losing Your Thimble.' The yellow ones were the ones I knew best; I used to have them when I was a little girl."
"Then the white ones must be harder. Is Child Study harder than Arithmetic?"
"There are two kinds. One kind is where you take the children you are acquainted with and tell what you know about them. That kind isn't so good to make papers out of. It's too short. The other kind is where you get at 'the Contents of the Child's Mind.' I can't say that it's harder than Arithmetic, for it is Arithmetic, only it's further on than you've got. It's percentage. You take eleven hundred little girls in blue dresses and make them fill out blanks. You ask them which they like best, chocolate caramels or peppermint drops."
"Whichdothey like best?" asked Miss Muffet, who had often thought about that question herself.
"You can't tell," answered the Little Old Woman;"all you know is the answers: they depend on which words the little girls can spell easiest. The chief thing is to get the percentage. Then you write a paper. If it doesn't come out right, you ask eleven hundred little girls in pink dresses and they answer differently. Then you have a Problem."
"What is a Problem?" asked Miss Muffet.
"It's something to discuss," said the Little Old Woman.
"Why don't they ask their mothers?"
"The mothers are too busy. Besides, their children are all exceptions. You can't make anything out of exceptions,—there are too many of them. If you let them in, it just musses up the Science. The best way is to keep them out."
"But their mothers like them," said Miss Muffet.
"Yes; they think that they are the nicest kind."
When she had time to look around her, Miss Muffet was surprised to see how different the company was from that in the other parts of the palace.
"They look as if something had been done to them," said Miss Muffet. "Oh! now I know who they are! They must be Youths. I've always read about Youths in the books mamma makes me read on Sunday afternoon, but I didn't know thatthey were real. Some of them look almost like boys and girls, only less so."
Sure enough, the room was full of Youths. They came out of the Sunday-school books and the Fifth Readers and the Moral Tales and the Libraries of Instructive Juvenile Literature. Some had never been out of a book before, and found it impossible to talk in anything but the book language. Some were evidently very good, and some were painful examples of youthful wickedness, while others were chiefly interested in Natural History.
"Youths," said the Little Old Woman, "are easier to understand than boys and girls and other young folks. Youths have habits, and each one practices only one at a time. When they do a naughty thing, they keep on doing it regularly; that's the way you come to know which is which. It doesn't matter what it is, whether Vanity or Procrastination or Not Bringing in the Wood, they keep it up till they have been made to see the folly of it, or are given over to their evil ways. Now children are more changeable. When I lived in a Shoe, I was driven half out of my wits, for I never could be thorough when I reproved them, they were always naughty in a different way. I don't believe that any one could have got any of mychildren into a book; they wouldn't keep still long enough to have their characters taken."
Almost all the Youths were accompanied by their parents or guardians, though some had private tutors. Two youthful persons from the eighteenth century attracted a great deal of attention. They were Harry Sandford and Tommy Merton. Harry was a great philosopher, and understood so perfectly the principles of the Wedge and the Inclined Plane and the Moral Law that it was hard to believe his friend, Mr. Barlow, who stated that he was only six years old. Tommy, on the other hand, until his sixth year had been quite worldly, and had held a number of erroneous opinions. Under Harry's instruction, however, he had been much improved and was now quite sedate and observing.
Somehow the painful examples appealed to Miss Muffet most, for she was very tender-hearted. There was the little criminal who once stole a pin. Miss Muffet had always understood that a pin was the very worst thing to steal; it had such fearful consequences. The last consequence generally is that one is transported. And there was an example of youthful obstinacy who wouldn't pronounce the letter G. His mother was almost broken-hearted for fear he might take a prejudice against otherletters of the alphabet. She sat up three nights with him and spent days trying to make him say G.
"It shows that she was a good mother, doesn't it?" said Miss Muffet.
"It shows that she didn't have to do her own work," replied the Little Old Woman.
A group of very old-fashioned children were talking together in whispers. They were evidently anxious that no older persons should hear them.
"There they are at it again," said the Little Old Woman; "they are Mrs. Opie's children. People don't know them so well now, but they used to be notorious for telling White Lies. I have no doubt that they are doing it now; they are exaggerating."
"What's that?" asked Miss Muffet.
"It's telling how large a thing is before you've measured it."
"But what if you haven't a tape-line with you?"
"Then you should say nothing about it."
"There is Hal," said Miss Muffet; "I know him by the miserable piece of string hanging out of his pocket. Hal cut his string. It was a sin and he suffers for it. His cousin Ben untied his and hasit always ready for emergencies. All his emergencies are of that kind; they need a piece of whipcord to bring them out right. I've no doubt but that to-night the coach of one of the very prettiest princesses will break down and Ben will tie it up. It would be just his luck."
Hal cut his stringHal cut his string
Of course it was not long before Miss Muffet sought out Rollo Halliday.
"I always did like Rollo," she said. "I almost forget that he is a Youth sometimes. The nicest thing about him is that you always know what he means. He always tells you where he is and how he got there, without skipping anything that you ought to know. When he goes into a room, he goes through the door, opening and shutting the door just as you expected. He isn't at all like Humpty Dumpty. I don't thinkI ever knew two persons more different. There was only one time when he puzzled me. When he went to Europe, and they told him how the French did things, 'Rollo laughed long and loud.' It was so unusual. I read it over and over, but I couldn't tell what he laughed at. I think he might have explained, but I suppose he forgot."
It certainly was a pleasant thing to see Rollo surrounded by a group of kindred spirits. They were the healthiest and happiest Youths in the company, for they had lived a great deal in the open air, and had kept their eyes open.
Rollo was engaged in a dispute with little Francis about the comparative merits of New England and a Desert Island for farming. Jonas said little, but what he did say carried great weight.
Rollo expressed himself as highly pleased with the Symposium. He was sorry that there was not time for a paper on "The New Boy" and a discussion of the question, "Are not the Young Growing Younger?" He said he had seen some dangerous tendencies in that direction.
"I don't think I ever knew two persons more different""I don't think I ever knew two persons more different"
Having said this, Rollo walked to the other side of the room, and having found a settee, sat down on it.
Scarcely had Rollo sat down when Miss Muffet saw a little girl whose face was very familiar.
"You are Rosamond, aren't you? And once you bought a beautiful purple jar instead of shoes, even though your old shoes had holes in them?"
"It was a youthful indiscretion," said Rosamond, "and I have learned a lesson from it."
"It was just lovely. Any one can have shoes, but a purple jar is something one dreams about: it's almost as good as having a party."
Then she looked very anxiously at Rosamond and said,—
"I hope it didn't happen to you? Since first I read the story Miss Edgeworth told about you and the purple jar, I couldn't get out of my head the dreadful lines with which she begins,—
'O teach her while your lessons lastTo judge the future by the past,The mind to strengthen and annealWhile on the stithy glows the steel.'
It seemed such a dreadful thing to have your mind annealed, and you so little. I'm sure it's something uncomfortable. And then how hard it was for your mamma to make youchooseto do all the unpleasant things. I don't mind doing them when I'm told to, but to have to choose them rumples up my mind. That must have been an awful time when you had to choose a needle-book instead of that funny stone plum that you could have fooled the boys with."
"But Mamma wanted to train me to be a Free Moral Agent," said Rosamond.
"I don't like agents," said Miss Muffet, and then she was sorry that she had been so rude. "I mean I don't believe in being one till one is more grown up. And now that we are talking aboutit, maybe you could tell me what the other line means,—
'While on the stithy glows the steel.'"
"You dear little Rosamond""You dear little Rosamond"
"A stithy," said Rosamond, "is a kind of blacksmith shop."
"Now I know what every word means," said Miss Muffet, "but what was it all about?"
"It was poetry."
"I suppose that this evening you had to choose between the Symposium and the rest of the party where they don't have papers? And you are glad you chose the Symposium?"
"No, I'm not," said Rosamond impulsively.
"You dear little Rosamond!" cried Miss Muffet, throwing her arms about her. "The annealing's come off. Now let's go where there's music."
Chapter VII
Asshe returned from the Symposium, Miss Muffet was compelled to pass through some of the more remote parts of the palace, and whom should she see but the Caliph Haroun al Raschid, whom she recognized at once because he was in full disguise. He had no sooner come to the party than he had begun to poke around in search of adventures, as was his habit. At length he found two little girls engaged in a violent quarrel over a lamb. One was beating the other over the head with a crook, and accusing her of theft. This was justwhat the Caliph was after, and summoning the girls before him, he prepared to try the case. The younger girl, whose name was Mary, testified that the lamb had followed her to school. The elder girl, known as Bo-Peep, stated that on that same day she had lost her whole flock of sheep.
"This is a strange coincidence," said Haroun al Raschid: "one girl loses her sheep and another has one in her possession. There is a great mystery here that must be looked into. Appear before me to-morrow, little girls, and tell me your stories." And then he added, with a terrible frown and an expressive glance at the executioner,—"And be sure, little girls, that your stories are interesting."
Miss Muffet had hoped to have a long quiet talk with Haroun al Raschid and to ask him ever so many questions. But when she saw the executioner she changed her mind, and she felt, too, that the Caliph was more used to asking questions than to answering them.
It was a great relief, therefore, to see a Dervish sitting on the floor, as if he had all the time in the world. He didn't seem in the least afraid of Haroun al Raschid; for Dervishes are great people in their way and have no need of being afraid of anybody.
One was beating the otherOne was beating the other
"Good-evening, Mr. Dervish, may I sit down by you and have a little talk about dervishry?"
A little talk about dervishryA little talk about dervishry
The Dervish said something she didn't quite understand about not talking shop on social occasions. "However," he added, "I will be glad to tell about my neighbors; that will be more polite." This suited Miss Muffet just as well.
"It's what I really want to hear about," she said. "Dervishry must be very hard work when you do it well, but it gives you a chance to meet all the interesting people. Let me see; you have a bowl, and you sit under a palm-tree by a well, and then the Calendars and Cadis and Muftis and Merchants and Mendicants and the ladies of Bagdad come and ask you questions, and when they put things in your bowl you answer them?"
The Dervish said that that would be against the rule.
"Oh, I remember. You look wise and tell them to come again to-morrow. The next day they come again, and you tell them which camel was blind in one eye and where their lovers are. That is very wonderful."
The Dervish said that was the easiest part of it. The hardest thing was to look wiser than the Muftis.
An expressive glance at the executionerAn expressive glance at the executioner
Very soon they were having a delightful talk about all the great personages Miss Muffet had always admired at a distance, but the Dervish had known them intimately and could tell all their weak points, which were not in the books. Indeed, Miss Muffet was surprised to find how many mistakes the books had in them, all because the personswho made them hadn't taken the trouble to talk with the Dervish. Almost all the numbers were wrong.
"There weren't forty thieves, there were only thirty-nine. I counted them myself."
"But didn't everything else happen as I was told?" asked Miss Muffet; "and didn't it come out as it is in the book?"
The Dervish admitted this, but said that that wasn't the important part: the important part was to count straight.
A remarkable discovery was that all the famous people had brothers, and the brothers were always the ones who ought to have been famous, but every one forgot about them.
"There is Aladdin, he's a greatly overrated man. I could tell you some curious things I learned about him. I know they are true, for they were told to me in confidence. People admire him because they think he is so lucky. Now if it had been his brother! He came over from China and used to sit by the day under my palm-tree talking about the chances he had just missed. They were truly marvelous. He missed more chances than Aladdin ever dreamed of, but nobody ever writes about him."
"Perhaps they don't know about him," said Miss Muffet.
"That's the injustice of it."
"Speaking of brothers, did you ever find out why it is that the third one is always the wisest? I asked one of the North Country princes about it just now, and he bowed and said he thanked me for the compliment, but he was no philosopher. It doesn't matter where it is, in the Red Fairy Book or the Green Fairy Book or any color, the third is always the charm, and it seems very much the same way in your country. The oldest brother is always vain and selfish, and when he goes into the forest, always does the very thing he was told not to. And the second brother is selfish, and stupider, for he ought to know better when his brother doesn't come back and there are so many witches around. Then it comes to the third brother, and I never expect anything of him because he is so little and his stepmother has kept him back, but he turns out splendid. Did you ever meditate on that, Mr. Dervish?"
The Dervish said that he had meditated on it for a great many years, and had at last come to the conclusion that it was a law of nature.
"I am so glad to know that," said Miss Muffet, "for it has always troubled me."
Aladdin's brother and the DervishAladdin's brother and the Dervish
The Dervish remarked that when one was troubled by that kind of questions, it was always better to consult a wise man at once. It was not safe to let the case run on.
"There's another thing I should like to ask about. Since I first read of the Three Royal Mendicants, I've always wondered what a Mendicant is. I know he must be very proud and great, but what does he do? The Mendicants are here this evening, but I don't like to ask them; it might seem rude."
Then the Dervish explained about the Mendicants, and seemed so familiar with their way of life that Miss Muffet suspected that he might have been one himself. He explained too about the Calendars.
The time passed so rapidly that Miss Muffet would have talked with him all the evening, had he not at last said that he feared he was monopolizing the attention of his hostess; besides, it was about time for him to do some more meditating.
Chapter VIII
Therewas a surprise at the party that delighted many of the young people. Old Mr. Esop passed through the hall, distributing handbills, announcing that, at immense expense, he had brought from Greece his unparalleled aggregation of Fables, which would now be open for exhibition in a grand pavilion just outside the south door of the palace. Out of compliment to Miss Muffet's party, admissionto the Fables would be free, though ten cents would be charged to those who remained to the Morals,—which, I am sorry to say, very few did. Some of the Fables were unusually terrifying, such as the Lions and the hungry Wolves, and Miss Muffet was glad to see what strong bars there were to their cages. But a number of the Fables, having been for a long time on exhibition, had become quite tame, and walked about conversing so amiably that the youngest children felt no apprehension.
It was while Mr. Esop was engaged in attaching the Morals to the Fables that Miss Muffet caught sight for the first time of Uncle Remus and the Little Boy. Mr. Esop was pointing out the Hare asleep by the wayside while the Tortoise was coming gayly down the home stretch, and he was about to exhibit the Moral when Uncle Remus broke out with a hearty laugh.
"You don't fool dis chile, does you, honey? Brer Rabbit he sometime play 'possum, but he sleep wid one eye open; he not let hisself be beat by a triflin' mud turtle. Jess when Brer Turtle thinks he's thar, Brer Rabbit'll give a jump, an' Brer Turtle'll find he's jess in time to be too late. Oh! I know Brer Rabbit's owdacious ways." Butstill the Hare slept while the Tortoise came deliberately over the line. Then Uncle Remus cried out with infinite scorn, "Come along, little boy; dat ain't worth shucks; dat ain't Brer Rabbit, nohow. I 'low dat rabbit's stuffed."
"But, Uncle Remus," said Miss Muffet, "perhaps you will like the Fables better when you get acquainted with them. I'm sure they have always borne a good reputation. And now I should like to introduce you to Mr. Esop; it's such a pleasure to bring together people of the same tastes. Mr. Esop, allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Remus. I am sure that you will feel a common interest in Zoölogy."
Miss Muffet felt a little frightened at making such a formal speech, but she knew that she was showing the quality called "tact," which is something very useful in a hostess. To tell one's guests what they are expected to talk about is often a great convenience to them.
But Mr. Esop, the moment he heard the name, drew back with an air that was quite chilling and businesslike.
"Another of those early Romans out of a job! He has just discovered that he is a Fable and is looking for a situation." Then turning to UncleRemus he said, "I'm very particular about my Fables, and I want everything straight and plain so that parents may have no hesitation in bringing their children. I don't like to mix up Myths with my Fables, for the chances are that the Mythical Personage, instead of having a Moral, may turn out to be only a Sign of the Zodiac. This is always confusing to the Public. I suppose, Mr. Remus, that you have brought Mr. Romulus with you. In the case of twins, I give no consideration, if I'm offered only a broken lot. I must have the full set, Mr. Remus."
"I must have the full set""I must have the full set"
Uncle Remus's feelings would have been much hurt if he had not at that moment caught sightof Mowgli accompanied by Baloo and Bagheera. Just how it happened Miss Muffet could never find out, but before she had time to introduce them they had become fast friends, and Uncle Remus only chuckled when she asked him if she might have the pleasure of making them acquainted.
"Nebber you mind 'bout us, we mus' hab met befo'. I disremember whar, but it mus' hab been somewhar down de big road."
And the old man laughed at the thought that there ever was a time when he didn't know Mowgli.
At the mention of the big road Mowgli began to sing the "Road Song of the Bandar-log." It was a very strange song, and not at all like those that her music teacher taught her, but for all that Miss Muffet felt that it was just the kind of a song she would sing if she were a Bandar-log.
Uncle Remus was in an ecstasy, and the Little Boy shouted for joy. Every one praised it except Sandford and Merton, who said that it didn't give any useful information except that monkeys had tails, a fact which was already well known, being mentioned in all the Natural History books. For their part, when it came to poetry they preferred some fine passages in Dr. Young's "Night Thoughts."
A great many boys and girls who were on theirway to the pavilion had remained outside listening to a pleasant gentleman who was telling them anecdotes about the Wild Animals he had known.
Telling anecdotesTelling anecdotes
This troubled Mr. Esop, who, though an excellent man, was inclined to be jealous. Miss Muffet went out to remind the children of the Morals, but in a little while she became as interested as the rest of them.
"His way of talking is different from Mr. Esop's, but I am not sure but he may be right. At any rate, I am glad to hear some one who speaks respectfully about animals, and who doesn't say anything behind their backs that he wouldn't say to their faces. He always remembers that they are persons and have feelings. Then when they do things, he doesn't blame them or call them bad names. That's one thing I don't like about Mr. Esop. He isn't quite fair, and he is always accusing them of Folly."
"It's remarkable how small the world is, afterall," said the pleasant gentleman, when more than a score of persons told him that the Wild Animals he had known were among their most intimate acquaintances, and that they had met them under a great many different circumstances. Then followed a good deal of gossip about their family life and the way they got their living. Miss Muffet was glad to hear that they were all so kind to their children, but the way they got their living troubled her. She remembered what the spider said, that "business is business," but that didn't make it seem any more kind.
"It's the Law of the Jungle," said Mowgli; and then he recited the law word for word just as he had learned it.
"Can't they change it?" asked Miss Muffet.
"The Jungle people can't. It's too strong for them."
From this the conversation drifted to hunting for sport. The pleasant gentleman who knew so many animals personally didn't like it. The Boy Hunters, who had spent a great deal of time in the woods, didn't agree with him. They said that the proper way to become acquainted with animals was to carry a gun. It showed that you entered into the spirit of the thing. They fancied that it wasgood for wild animals to be hunted; in fact, that was what kept them wild.
Miss Muffet didn't think that was a very good reason, though it sounded logical; and she asked several of the Animals what they thought about it.
"It all depends on grammar""It all depends on grammar"
A Duck, a Dodo, a Lory, and an Eaglet, who had come with Alice from Wonderland, were the nearest, and she asked them first, but they refused to answer on the ground that they never had thoughts so late in the evening. The Lory said that he had one at home, but he had forgotten to bring it.
"You can't make anything out of these Wonderland creatures," said Miss Muffet. "I can't really feel that they are animals I have known, though of course I know their names."
When Bagheera was asked his opinion, he only growled that it was all in the day's work. But wise old Baloo answered:—
"It all depends on grammar."
This made every one look very solemn, for they realized now that it was a serious matter.
"First Person, Singular, I hunt. Second Person, Thou huntest. Third Person, He or She hunts. So long as you confine it to the First Person, it's proper and right. When you go beyond that, it's carrying it too far. When you get to the Second Person, that's where the danger comes in."
This was such sound sense that they all agreed to it, though Mr. Wolf declared that the First Person, Plural, seemed to him to be more sociable.
"Does it make any difference about the moods and tenses?" asked Miss Muffet.
"Passive—First Person, Singular, I am hunted."
There was a general cry of horror. "What a dreadful point of view!" said the Dodo; "it makes me shiver to think about it."
Even the wildest animals agreed that it was atrocious. What was most remarkable was that the Boy Hunters, who had been on the Orinoco and the Congo and all the most dangerous places, admitted that they had the same feelings.
"There's a limit beyond which hunting is not true sport. It should not be allowed to go as far as the First Person, Singular, in the Passive."
"I'm so glad that you agree about it," said Miss Muffet. "I knew you would when you came to understand one another. That's the great good of being at parties; it makes us feel that we are all more alike than we thought."
Chapter IX
WhenMiss Muffet began to be a little tired, Mr. Spider asked her to take a stroll with him into the open air. So he led her through a low archway which brought them at last into the Child's Garden of Verses.
"We had to make the entrance quite small," he said apologetically, "to keep out the big boys. They run over everything, and we should have to put up those horrid signs,'Keep off the Verses.'"
Wynken, Blynken, and NodWynken, Blynken, and Nod
"I am so glad that you have brought me into the garden where I can see the verses growing.Mamma told me that people make verses just as they make the flowers on her bonnet. But I like the kind that grow, don't you, Mr. Spider?"
Mr. Spider said that he was no judge of poetry, but he was inclined to be of her opinion; which made Miss Muffet very happy, for she had not been used to having people agree with her,—at least before she had a party.
It was very pleasant in the garden, for the noisier children had not found it out. It was surprising how many things were in it. There was a little river with golden sand; and the tiniest mountain, which looked as high as the sky when you got the right point of view; and there were ships and pirates and a beautiful cow. When you looked in the right direction, you could see the big world stretching away much further than the eye could reach.
He was a little prudentHe was a little prudent