The Adventures of a Squirrel, Supposed to be Related by Himself Part 3

_CHAPTER VIII._

I shall pa.s.s over a few days, which I spent very comfortably, and give you her brother's answer; for she took me out of my cage so often, (seeing I was tame,) that I had frequent opportunities of seeing and reading every thing I chose. It was as follows.

"Dear Sister,

"I am very glad my last present met with your approbation. I endeavoured to find who brought it into the school, as soon as I had read your letter. It appears to be young Eaton: I believe you know him. I bought it of him, and after several escapes from losing it, I resolved to send it you, which succeeded just as I could have wished. Present my duty to my papa and mamma, and I remain, dear sister,

"Your's, affectionately,

"Benjamin Bentley."

As soon as Louisa had received this letter, she invited Miss Huntley; and I could clearly hear the following dialogue.

_Miss Bentley._ Well! I wrote to my brother, to enquire about the squirrel, and here is his answer: read it.

_Miss Huntley._ (having read it.) My dear Louisa I am shocked. I did not think William Eaton could have been guilty of an action so mean. You know I told you, when I was here last, he opened the cage and said the squirrel had jumped out of the window. Now he went to school the next day, therefore he must have taken it. I always thought he loved a little mischief, but had not an idea he could do such a thing as this.

_Miss Bentley._ And very likely all this was for the gain of a couple of s.h.i.+llings, or some such trifle. But, however, the squirrel is your's, Miss Huntley, so I beg you will accept of it.

_Miss Huntley._ I think, Miss Bentley, I had better not take it, as it will cause questions which may discover young Eaton's guilt, and I should not wish to take away his character. I think the best way will be to write him a letter; and tell him how sorry I am at finding how I lost my squirrel, but that, as I know who has it, I shall think no more of it.

_Miss Bentley._ My dear Miss Huntley, you will act n.o.bly; and much kinder, I am sure, than he deserves. Suppose you write it now, here is every thing necessary.

Miss Huntley then wrote the letter, and when she had finished, she read it aloud.

"Sir,

"When you favoured us with your company, the night before you went to school, had any body told me you had the least thought of doing what I have lately found you did, I should have thought it an impossibility. Believe me, the loss of the squirrel does not grieve me half so much as the manner in which I have lately heard I lost it. Miss Bentley, sister to one of your schoolfellows, has it, and would freely give it me; and as that is all I wished to know, (as I was afraid it might meet a violent death,) I shall very willingly let it remain with her; for if I should take it, it might breed questions which would not be quite agreeable. And now let me conclude this letter with a.s.suring you, that, as I trust you have sense enough to be sorry for what you have done, I shall think no more of it, than if it never had happened.

"Isabella Huntley."

This letter was then sent, and Miss Huntley look her leave.

I am now coming to that part of my life which I look back upon with horror. Nothing particular happened till the time arrived when young gentlemen leave school, to go and be merry by the fireside for six weeks. William Eaton had not lost any of his malice; and therefore, I suppose, thought me as proper an object to vent it on as he could find. He thought, by killing me, (as I heard him say,) to end all farther trouble, and put a stop to all their enquiries, by bringing me home dead. For he had formed such a design, I shudder when I think of it. I suppose he had bribed the maid before, for early one morning he was at the door, which the maid seeing, she took me out of my cage, and gave me to him, after she had cut off a bit of my tail, to make it appear the cat had eat me. He took me home, and called his dog into the garden, where he let me go, and sent the dog after me. The dog presently caught me, and lucky it was, he did not kill me the first gripe; for his master (seeing he caught me so soon, as he wanted to have had some fun, as he termed it) threw a stone at him, which hit him on the head, and laid him flat on the ground. I seized the opportunity, and ran up the garden wall, from whence I jumped, frightened almost out my wits. I continued running till I came to a very large orchard. I mounted a cherry tree, and eat one or two cherries, which a little recovered me. After I had been in the tree a little time, two men entered the orchard with sacks, which they filled with what fruit came first to hand, and were going away. The owner of the orchard happened to be riding by the place, and called to them to know their business. At that instant the men happened to lift up their eyes, and seeing me, answered, they came to catch me, and asked if they might not climb the tree for that purpose.

_Owner._ Yes, after you have emptied your sacks. So empty them this minute.

The men then turned every thing out of their sacks.

_Owner._ Well, have you caught the squirrel? Hey-day! were you going to catch the squirrel with two sacks full of fruit? Now, gentlemen, you will both be kind enough to march out of this orchard: and if ever you are caught in here again you shall certainly go to gaol.

The men then went away, which recovered me from my second fright; for I expected, every minute, they would climb and take me.

However, I was agreeably disappointed.

I then descended, and ran out of the orchard as fast as I could, till I found myself so hungry, I determined to trust myself once more to somebody that looked good-natured, if I could see any body I thought looked so. While I was thinking, a stage came by, so (at random) I gave a leap into the basket, where I found a few crumbs of bread. I remained very quiet till the stage suddenly broke down. I thought it high time to quit my seat, so jumped out, and crept into an old lady's pocket, who was lying amongst the rest on the road. Fortunately, n.o.body was hurt, and the coachman sent somebody for a post chaise, which soon arrived. We all crowded in, till it was full. My mistress happened to get an inside place, and we went off laughing at the disaster. At last we came to London, where I did not dare stir from the pocket of the lady, so kept my place with great composure. My mistress, for so I shall call her, was then put into another stage, and after a journey of about four miles, she stopped at a very handsome house. My mistress being in a great hurry to get out and compose herself, opened the coach door herself, but not having sufficient power, her foot slipped and she fell out. I was so alarmed at this, that I scrambled out of her pocket, and made the best of my way towards the house door, where I certainly should have entered, had I not heard the different mews of half a dozen cats. Those sounds were not very pleasing to me, so I ran off unperceived; for the confusion at the garden door was not yet at an end. I had not run far, before I met a man with a pair of very large boots in his hand. He unfortunately spied me, and taking me up, put me into one of them, and thrust me down into the foot. He had walked within a mile of the fields where you were when you first became possessed of me, when he set the boots down, and began fighting with a man he had been quarrelling with some part of the way, I jumped out of my place of confinement, and ran till I came to the place where you were sitting, and being very hungry, I ventured to creep into your pocket, and trust to your generosity. Here the pretty fellow ceased. "And you shall find," said I, "I will endeavour to deserve that trust, by making you as happy as I possibly can."

Now, my dear Anne, I presume it will be unnecessary for me to inform you, that the foregoing history is only an imaginary one of my own invention; but such as we may suppose a squirrel might relate, if he were endowed with reason and speech. Your good sense will suggest to you that the amiable characters herein depicted are meant as examples for imitation; and that the conduct of the vicious is to be disapproved of and avoided.

I remain your affectionate friend,

R. S. S.