Great Big Treasury of Beatrix Potter-Beatrix Potter

0:00This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit libriVox.org. This reading by Cara Schalenberg, www.kray.org. The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter Once upon a time there were four little rabbits and their names were Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter. They lived with their mother in a sandbank underneath the root of a very big fir tree. Now my dears said old Mrs. Rabbit one morning. You may go into the fields or down the lane but don't go into Mr. McRecca's garden. Your father had an accident there. He was put in a pie by Mrs. McRecca. Now run along and don't get into mischief. I am going out.

1:05Then old Mrs. Rabbit took a basket and her umbrella and went through the wood to the bakers. She bought a loaf of brown bread and five current buns. Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail, who were good little bunnies, went down the lane to gather blackberries. But Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr. McRecca's garden and squeezed under the gate. First he ate some lethises and some French beans and then he ate some radishes. And then, feeling rather sick, he went to look for some parsley. But round the end of a cucumber frame, home should he meet, but Mr. McRecca. Mr. McRecca was on his hands and knees planting out young cabbages, but he jumped up and ran after Peter, waving a rake and calling out, Stop thief! Peter was most dreadfully frightened. He rushed all over the garden, for he had forgotten the way back to the gate. He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages and the other shoe amongst the potatoes.

2:10After losing them, he ran on four legs and went faster, so that I think he might have got away altogether, if he had not unfortunately run into a gooseberry net, and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket. It was a blue jacket, with brass buttons, quite new. Peter gave himself up for lost and shed big tears, but his sobs were overheard by some friendly sparrows who flew to him in great excitement and implored him to exert himself. Mr. McRecca came up with a sieve, which he intended to pop upon the top of Peter, but Peter wriggled out just in time, leaving his jacket behind him, and rushed into the tool shed and jumped into a can. It would have been a beautiful thing to hide in, if it had not had so much water in it. Mr. McRecca was quite sure that Peter was somewhere in the tool shed, perhaps hidden underneath a flower pot. He began to turn them over carefully, looking under each.

3:12Presently Peter sneezed, could you? Mr. McRecca was after him in no time, and tried to put his foot upon Peter, who jumped out of a window, upsetting three plants. The window was too small for Mr. McRecca, and he was tired of running after Peter. He went back to his work. Peter sat down to rest, he was out of breath and trembling with fright, and he had not the least idea which way to go. Also he was very damp, with sitting in that can. After a time he began to wander about, going lipity, lipity, not very fast, and looking all around. He found a door in a wall, but it was locked, and there was no room for a little rabbit to squeeze underneath. An old mouse was running in and out over the stone doorstep, carrying peas and beans to her family in the wood. Peter asked her the way to the gate, but she had such a large pee in her mouth that she could not answer. She only shook her head at him.

4:15Peter began to cry. Then he tried to find his way straight across the garden, but he became more and more puzzled. Presently he came to a pond where Mr. McRecca filled his watercans. A white cat was staring at some goldfish. She sat very, very still, but now and then the tip of her tail twitched, as if it were alive. Peter thought it best to go away without speaking to her. He had heard about cats from his cousin, the tall Benjamin bunny. He went back towards the toolshed, but suddenly, quite close to him, he heard the noise of a hoe. Scritch, scratch, scratch, scratch. Peter scuttored underneath the bushes, but presently, as nothing happened, he came out, and climbed upon a wheelbarrow and peeped over. The first thing he saw was Mr. McRecca hoeing onions. His back was turned towards Peter, and beyond him was the gate.

5:19Peter got down very quietly off the wheelbarrow and started running as fast as he could go, along a straight walk behind some black-current bushes. Mr. McRecca sat of him at the corner, but Peter did not care. He slipped underneath the gate, and was safe at last in the wood outside the garden. Mr. McRecca hung up the little jacket and the shoes for a scarecrow to frighten the blackbirds. Peter never stopped running or looked behind him till he got home to the big fir tree. He was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on the floor of the rabbit hole and shut his eyes. His mother was busy cooking. She wondered what he had done with his clothes. It was the second little jacket and pair of shoes that Peter had lost in a fortnight. I am sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening. His mother put him to bed and made some chamomile tea, and she gave a dose of it to Peter.

6:22One tablespoonful to be taken at bedtime. But flopsy, mobsy, and cotton-tail had bread and milk and blackberries for supper. The end of Peter Rabbit, read by Cara Schellenberg on January 5, 2006, in Oceanside, California. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information and to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibRidox.org. The Taylor of Gloucester by Beatrix Potter. In the time of swords and parrowigs, and full skirted coats with floured lapets, when gentlemen wore ruffles and gold-laced waist coats, pedisoy and taffeta, they lived to Taylor and Gloucester. He sat in the window of a little shopping-west coat street, cross-legged on a table from morning till dark.

7:24All day long, while the light lasted, he sewed and snippeted, piecing out his satin and pompadour and loot-string. Stuff's head-strange names, and were very expensive in the days of Taylor of Gloucester. But although he sewed fine silk for his neighbours, he himself was very, very poor. A little old man inspectacles, with a pinched face, old crooked fingers, and a suit of thread-bear clothes. He cut his coats without waist, according to his embroidered cloth. They were very small ends and snippets that lay about upon the table. Two narrow breads for nowt, and accept waist coats for mice, said the Taylor. One bitter cold day near Christmas time, the Taylor began to make a coat. A coat of cherry-colored, corded silk, embroidered with pensies and roses. And a cream-colored satin waistcoat, trimmed with gauze and green-wursted chineel, for the mare of bloster.

8:25The Taylor worked and worked, and he talked to himself. He measured the silk and turned it round and round, and trimmed it into shape with his shears. The table was all littered with cherry-colored snippets. No bread the tall, and cut on the cross. It's no bread the tall. Tipets for mice and ribbons for mobs, and for mice, said the Taylor of Gloucester. When the snowflakes came down against the small, leaded window-pains and shut out the light. The Taylor had done his day's work. All the silk and satin they cut out upon the table. There were 12 pieces for the coat, and four pieces for the waistcoat. And there were pocket flaps and cuffs and buttons all in order. For the lining of the coat there was fine yellow taffeta, and for the buttonholes of the waistcoat there was cherry-colored twist. And everything was ready to sew together in the morning, all measured and sufficient. Except that there was one thing just one single skein of cherry-colored twisted silk.

9:27Taylor came out of his shop at dark, where he did not sleep there at nights. He fastened the window and locked the door and took away the key. No one lived there at night, but little brown mice, and they ran in and out without any keys. For behind the wooden wenskirts of all the old houses in Gloucester, there are little mouse staircases and secret trap doors. And the mice run from house to house through those long narrow passages. They can run all over the town without going into the streets. But the Taylor came out of his shop and shuffled home through the snow. He could live quite nearby in college court, next to the doorway to college green. And although it was not a big house, the Taylor was so poor he only rented the kitchen. He lived alone with his cat. It was called Simkin. Now all day long, while the Taylor was out at work, Simkin kept house by himself. And he was also fond of the mice, though he gave them no Saturn for coats.

10:29Maaah! Said the cat, when the Taylor opened the door. Maaah! The Taylor replied, Simkin, we shall make our fortune. But I am warned to a rumbling. Take this throat, which is our last forpence. And Simkin, take a china pipkin by peneth of bread, a peneth of milk and a peneth of sausages, and oh Simkin, with the last penny of our forpence, by me one peneth of cherry-colored silk. But do not lose the last penny of the forpence Simkin. Or I am undone and want to a thread paper. For I have no more twist. Then Simkin again said, and took the throat and the pipkin and went out into the dark. The Taylor was very tired and beginning to be ill. He sat down by the hearth and talked to himself about that wonderful coat. I shall make my fortune. To be cut by us, the mare of bluster is to be aired on Christmas Day in the morning,

11:34he's ordered a coat and an embroidered waist to be lined with yellow taffeta and the taffeta survivors. There is no more left over in snippets that also have to make tippets for mice. Then the Taylor started for suddenly interrupting him from the dresser at the other side of the kitchen came a number of little noises. Dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap. Now what can that be? Said the Taylor of bluster, jumping up from his chair. The dresser was covered with crockery and pipkins, willow pattern plates and tea cups and mugs. The Taylor crossed the kitchen and stood quite still beside the dresser, listening and peering through his spectacles. Again from under a teacup came those funny little noises. Dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap. This is very peculiar, said the Taylor of bluster, and he lifted up the teacup which was upside down. Out stepped a little, live lady-mouse. I made a curpsy to the Taylor.

12:36Then she hopped away down off the dresser and under the wainscote. The Taylor sat down again by the fire, warming his poor cold hands and mumbling to himself. The wiskets cut out from peach-colored satin, tamber stitch and rose buds in beautiful floss silk. Was I wise to entrust my last four-pins to Simkin? One and twenty buttonholes of cherry-colored twist. But all at once, from the dresser, there came other little noises. Dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap. This is passing extraordinary, said the Taylor of bluster, and turned over another teacup which was upside down. Out stepped a little gentlemen-mouse, made about to the Taylor. And then from all over the dresser came a chorus of little trappings, all sounding together, and answering one another, like watchpeetles in an old, warm-eaten, window-shutter. Dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap, dip-tap.

13:36And out from under teacups, and from under bowls and basins, stepped other and more little mice, who hopped away down off the dresser and under the wainscote. Taylor sat down, plushed to the fire, lamenting. Oh, one and twenty buttonholes of cherry-colored silk, to be finished by noon of Saturday, and this is Tuesday evening. Was it right to let loose those mice? Undoubtedly the property of Simkins. Oh, lack, I am undone, for I have no more twist. The little mice came out again, and listened to the Taylor. They took notice of the pattern of that wonderful coat. They listened to one another about the taffer-delining, and about little mouse-tippets. And then all at once they all ran away together, down the passage behind the wainscote, squeaking and calling to one another, as they ran from house to house. And not one mouse was left in the Taylor's kitchen

14:36when Simkins came back with the pipkin of milk. Simkins opened the door and bounced in with an angry, like a cat that is fixed, for he hated the snow, and there was snow in his ears, snowing his collar at the back of his neck. He put down the loaf, and the sausages upon the dresser, and sniffed. Simkin said the Taylor, where is my twist? But Simkin sat down the pipkin in a milk upon the dresser, and looked suspiciously at the tea cups. He wanted his supper of little fat mouse. Simkin said the Taylor, where is my twist? But Simkin hid a little parcel privately in the tea pot, and spits and growled at the Taylor. And if Simkin had been able to talk, he would have asked, where is my mouse? A laque, I am undone, said the Taylor of bluster, and went sadly to bed. All that night long, Simkin hunted, and searched through the kitchen,

15:37peeping into cupboards, and under the wainscote, and into the tea pot-weighed, hidden that twist. But still, he never found a mouse. Whenever the Taylor mutters, in his sleep, Simkin went, QUAHHHHH! And made strange, horrid noises, as cats do at night. For the poor old Taylor was very ill, with a fever, tossing and turning in his forecose bed, and still in his dreams, he mumble, oh, more twist, no more twist. All that day, he was ill, and the next day, and the next, and what should become of the cherry-colored coat? In the Taylor shop in Westcote Street, the embroidered silk concaten, they cut out upon the table, one in twenty buttonholes, and who should come to sew them, when the window was barred, and the door was locked. But that does not hinder the little brown mice, they ran in and out, without any keys, through all the old houses in Gloucester. Out of doors,

16:37the market folks went, trudging through the snow, to buy their geese and turkeys, and to bake their Christmas pies. But there'd be no Christmas dinner for Simkin, and the poor old Taylor of Gloucester. The Taylor late ill for three days and nights, and when it was Christmas Eve, and very late at night, the moon climbed up over the roofs and chimneys, and looked down over the gateway into College Court. There were no lights in the windows, nor any sound in the houses. All the streets of Gloucester were had fussed the sleep under the snow, and still Simkin wanted his mice, and he knew, as he stood beside the foreposed bed. But it is in the old story that all the beasts can talk, in the night between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in the morning, though there are very few folk that can hear them, or know what it is that they say. When the cathedral clock struck twelve, there was an answer, like an echo of the chimes, and Simkin heard it, and came out of the Taylor store,

17:37and wondered about in the snow. From all the roofs and cables, an old wooden house, a Simcloster, came a thousand merry voices, seeing the old Christmas rhymes. All the old songs that ever I heard of, and some that I don't know, like Wittington's bells, first and loud as the cocks cried out. Dame, get up and bake your pies! Oh, dilly, dilly, dilly, side Simkin, and now in a garret there were lights, and sounds of dancing, and cats came from over the way. Heard it all, dilly, the cat in the fiddle, all the cats in Gloucester, except me, said Simkin. Under the wooden eaves, the starlings and spares, sang of Christmas pies. The jackdaws woke up in the cathedral tower, and although it was the middle of the night, the thrustles and robins sang, the air was quite full of little, twitching tunes, but it was all rather provoking to poor Hummary Simkin.

18:38Particularly, he was vexed with some little shrill voices from behind a wooden lattice. I think they were bats, because they always had very small voices, especially in a black frost, when they talked in their sleep, like the Taylor of Gloucester. They said something mysterious that sounded like, busquete the blue fly, Humm quete the bee, Buzzen Hummary cry and soodawee, and Simkin went away shaking his ears as if he had a bee in his bonnet. From the Taylor shopping wester came a glow of light, and when Simkin crept up to peep in it the window, it was full of candles. There was a snippeting of scissors, a snappeting of thread, and little mouse voices sang loudly and galey. Four and twenty Taylor's went to catch a snail, best man amongst them does not touch a tail. She put out a horn like a little kind of coo. Run Taylor's run, nor shall happy warly a nun! Then without a pause, a little voice, since it went on again.

19:39Sif my ladies oat, me o'er, run my ladies flower, put it in a chestnut, let it stand on our, ah, ah, ah, interrupted Simkin, and he scratched the door, but the key was under the Taylor's pillow, and he could not get in. The little mice only laughed and tried another tune. Three little mice sat down to spin, pussy passed by and she peeped in. What are you at, my little fine man, making coats for gentle man? Shall I come in and cut off your threads? Oh no, Miss pussy, you'd bite off our heads! Ah, ah, ah, quite Simkin. Here you'll dig a dingity, onto the little mice. Here you'll dig a deep, bubbly pet, merchants of London, they wear scarlet, silk in the colour and gold in the hem, so merrily marcheth the merchant man. They clicked their thimbles to march the time, but none of the songs placed Simkin. He sniffed, mued at the door of the shop, and then I bought a bit can end a pop,

20:39can the slip, can understop, can all for one farting. And upon the kitchen dresser, added the rude little mice. Ah, ah, ah, scratch, scratch! Scuffled Simkin on the windowsill. Well, the little mice inside sprang to their feet, and all began to shout at once, and little twitching voices. No, that twist! No, that twist! And they barred at the window shutters, and shut out Simkin. But still through the nicks in the shutters, he could hear the click of thimbles, and little mouse voices singing. No, that twist! No, that twist! Simkin came away from the shop, and went home, considering in his mind. He found the poor old tailor without fever, sleeping peacefully. Then Simkin went on tiptoe, and took a little parcel of silk out at the teapot. And looked at it in the moonlight, and he felt quite ashamed of his badness, compared with those good little mice. When the tailor had worked in the morning, the first thing which he saw upon the patchwork quilt was a skein of cellic-colored twisted silk,

21:41and beside his bed stood the repentant Simkin. A lack, I am on to a rambling, said the tailor of bluster. But I have my twist! The sun was shining on the snow, and the tailor got up and dressed, and came out into the street, with Simkin running before him. The starlings were sort on the chimney-stacks, and the throssles and robins sang. But they sang their own little noises, not the words they had sung in the night. A lack, said the tailor. I have my twist, but no more strength, nor time, then we'll serve to make we one single buttonhole. For this is Christmas day in the morning, the mayor of Gloucesters should be married by noon, and where is his cherry-colored coat? He unlocked the door of the little shopping-wask at street, and Simkin ran in like a cat that expects something, but there was no one there, not even one little brown mouse. The boards were swept clean, there's a lens of thread, and little silk snippets were all tidied away,

22:41and gone from off the floor. But upon the table, oh, joy! The tailor gave a shout, there where he had left plain cuttings of silk, there lay the most beautifulest coat, an embroidered satin waistcoat that were ever worn by a mayor of Gloucester. There were rosy sumpansies upon the facing of the coat, and the waistcoat was worked with poppies and cornflowers. Everything was finished except just one single cherry-colored buttonhole, and where that buttonhole was wanting, there was pin-discrap of paper with these words, in little tiny, weeny writing, no more twist. And from then began the luck of the tailor of Gloucester, he grew quite stout, and he grew quite rich. He made the most wonderful waistcoots through all the merchants of Gloucester, and through all the fine gentlemen of the country round. Never was seen such ruffles, or such embroidered cuffs and lapets, but his buttonholes were the greatest triumph for all.

23:44The stitches of those buttonholes were so neat, so neat, I wonder how they could be stitched by an old man in spectacles with crooked old fingers and a tailless dimple. The stitches of those buttonholes were so small, so small they looked as it said being made by little mice. The end. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org, recorded by Sherry Crowder. The Great Big Treasury of Beatrix Potter, by Beatrix Potter. Chapter 3. The Tale of Squirrel Nettkin, a story for Nora. This is a tale about a tale, a tale that belonged to a little red squirrel,

24:46and his name was Nettkin. He had a brother called Twinkleberry, and a great many cousins. They lived in a wood at the edge of a lake. In the middle of the lake, there is an island covered with trees and nuts and bushes, and amongst those trees stands a hollow oak tree, which is the house of an owl who is called Old Brown. One autumn when the nuts were ripe, and the leaves on the hazel bushes were golden and green, Nettkin and Twinkleberry, and all the other little squirrels came out of the wood, and down to the edge of the lake. They made little rafts out of twigs, and they paddled away over the water to owl island to gather nuts. Each squirrel had a little sack and a large ore, and spread out his tail for a sail. They also took with them an offering of three fat mice

25:46as a present for Old Brown, and put them down upon his doorstep. Then Twinkleberry and the other little squirrels each made a low bow and said politely, Old Mr. Brown, will you favor us with permission to gather nuts upon your island? But Nettkin was excessively impertinent in his manners. He bobbed up and down like a little red cherry singing, Riddle me, Riddle me, rot-tot-tot, a little wee man in a red red coat, a staff in his hand and a stone in his throat. If you'll tell me this riddle, I'll give you a grote. Now this riddle is as old as the hills. Mr. Brown paid no attention, whatever to Nettkin. He shed his eyes obstinately and went to sleep. The squirrels filled their little sacks with nuts and sailed home in the evening. But next morning they all came back again to our island,

26:46and Twinkleberry and the others brought a fine fat mole and laid it on the stone in front of Old Brown's doorway and said, Mr. Brown, will you favor us with your gracious permission to gather some more nuts? But Nettkin, who had no respect, began to dance up and down, tickling Old Mr. Brown with a nettle and singing, Old Mr. B, Riddle me, re- Hitty-pitty within the wall, Hitty-pitty without the wall. If you touch Hitty-pitty, Hitty-pitty will bite you. Mr. Brown woke up suddenly and carried the mole into his house. He shut the door in Nettkin's face, presently a little thread of blue smoke from a wood fire came up from the top of the tree, and Nettkin peeped through the keyhole and sang, a house full, a whole foal, and you cannot gather a bowl full. The squirrels searched for nuts all over the island

27:46and filled their little sacks, but Nettkin gathered oak apples, yellow and scarlet, and sat upon a beach stump playing marbles, and watching the door of Old Mr. Brown. On the third day, the squirrels got up very early and went fishing. They caught seven fat minnows as a present furled brown. They paddled over the lake and landed under a crooked chestnut tree on Owl Island. Twinkleberry and six other little squirrels each carried a fat minnow, but Nettkin, who had no nice manners, brought no present at all. He ran in front, singing. The man in the wilderness said to me, how may strawberries grow in the sea? I answered him as I thought good, as many red herrings as grow in the wood. But Old Mr. Brown took no interest in riddles, not even when the answer was provided for him.

28:46On the fourth day, the squirrels brought a present of six fat beetles, which were as good as plums in plum pudding for Old Brown. Each beetle was wrapped up carefully in a dockleaf, fastened with a pine needle pin. But Nettkin sang as rudely as ever. Old Mr. B, riddle me, re, flower of England, fruit of Spain, met together in a shower of rain, put in a bag tied round with a string, if you'll tell me this riddle, I'll give you a ring. Which was ridiculous of Nettkin, because he had not got any ring to give to Old Brown. The other squirrels hunted up and down the net bushes, but Nettkin gathered Robbins' pin cushions off a briar bush and stuck them full of pine needle pins. On the fifth day, the squirrels brought a present of wild honey. It was so sweet and sticky that they licked their fingers

29:46as they put it down upon the stone. They had stolen it out of a bumble bee's nest on the tippity top of the hill, but Nettkin skipped up and down singing, hama bum buzz buzz hama bum buzz. All I went over tippletime, I met a flock of Bonnie swine, some yellow knacked, some yellow backed. They were the very Bonnie swine. That ear went over the tippletime. Old Mr. Brown turned up his eyes and discussed at the impertinence of Nettkin, but he ate up the honey. The squirrels filled their little sacks with nuts, but Nettkin sat upon a big flat rock and played nine pins with a crab apple and green fur cones. On the sixth day, which was Saturday, the squirrels came again for the last time. They brought a new laid egg in a little rush basket as a last parting present for Old Brown.

30:47But Nettkin ran in front laughing and shouting, Humpty Dumpty lies in the back, with a white counter-pain round his neck. Forty doctors and forty writes cannot put Humpty Dumpty two writes. Now Old Mr. Brown took an interest in eggs. He opened one eye and shut it again, but still he did not speak. Nettkin became more and more impertinent. Old Mr. B, Old Mr. B, Hickamore Hackamore on the King's Kitchen Door. All the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't drive Hickamore Hackamore off the King's Kitchen Door. Nettkin danced up and down like a sunbeam, but still Old Brown said nothing at all. Nettkin began again. Arthur O'Bower has broken his band. He comes roaring up the land. The King of Scots with all his power cannot turn Arthur of the Bower. Nettkin made a worrying noise to round like the wind,

31:50and he took a running jump right onto the head of Old Brown. Then all at once there was a flutterment and a scufflement and allowed squeak. The other squirrels scattered away into the bushes. When they came back very cautiously, peeping round the tree, there was Old Brown sitting on his doorstep quite still, with his eyes closed, as if nothing had happened. But Nettkin was in his waistcoat pocket. This looks like the end of the story, but it isn't. Old Brown carried Nettkin into his house and held him up by the tail, intending to skin him. But Nettkin pulled so very hard that his tail broke in two, and he dashed up the staircase and escaped out of the attic window. And to this day, if you meet Nettkin,了吧 tree, and ask him a riddle, he will throw sticks at you and stab his feet and scold and shout,

32:52kakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakkakakakh. End of chapter 3, The Tale of Squirrel Nettkin. This is a Lebrvox recording. All Lebrvox recordings are in the public domain. For more information on how to find out how you can volunteer, He's visit Lebravox.org. Recording by Gava Pats, that's GEVA on the Lebravox forums for feedback. The tale of Benjamin Bunny by Beatrix Potter. One morning a little rabbit sat on a bank. He pricked his ears and listened to the trick-trot, trick-trot of a pony. A gig was coming along the road. It was driven by Mr McGregor, and beside him sat Mrs McGregor in her best bonnet. As soon as they had passed, little Benjamin Bunny slid down into the road and set off with a hop-skip and a jump to call upon his relations, who lived in the wood at the back of Mr McGregor's garden.

33:52That wood was full of rabbit holes, and in the neatest, sandiest hole of all, lived Benjamin's aunt and his cousins, Flopsey, Mopsey, Cottontail and Peter. Old Mrs Rabbit was a widow. She earned her living by knitting rabbit wool mittens and mufferties. I once bought a pair at a bazaar. She also sold herbs and rosemary tea and rabbit tobacco, which is what we call lavender. Little Benjamin did not very much want to see his aunt. He came round the back of the fir tree and nearly tumbled upon the top of his cousin Peter. Peter was sitting by himself. He looked poorly and was dressed in a red cotton pocket-hanger chief. Peter said little Benjamin in a whisper. Who has got your clothes? Peter replied. The scarecrow in Mr McGregor's garden and described how he'd been chased about the garden and had dropped his shoes and coat. Little Benjamin sat down beside his cousin and assured him that Mr McGregor had gone out in a gig, and Mrs McGregor also, certainly for the day,

34:55because she was wearing her best bonnet. Peter said he hoped that it would rain. At this point, Old Mrs Rabbit's voice was heard inside the rabbit hole, calling, cottontail, cottontail, fetch some more camomile. Peter said he thought he might feel better if he went for a walk. They went away hand in hand and got upon the flat top of the wall at the bottom of the wood. From here, they looked down into Mr McGregor's garden. Peter's coat and shoes were plainly to be seen upon the scarecrow, topped with an old tamish hunter of Mr McGregor's. Little Benjamin said, it spoils people's clothes to squeeze under a gate, the proper way to get in is to climb down a pear tree. Peter fell down head first, but it was of no consequence as the bed below was newly reaked and quite soft. It had been sewn with lettuces. They left a great many odd little footmarks all over the bed, especially Little Benjamin, who was wearing clogs. Little Benjamin said that the first thing to be done was to get back Peter's clothes

35:56in order that they might be able to use the pocket hanker chief. They took them off the scarecrow. There had been rain during the night. There was water in the shoes, and the coat was somewhat shrunk. Benjamin tried on the tamish hunter, but it was too big for him. Then he suggested that they should fill the pocket hanker chief with onions as a little present for his aunt. Peter did not seem to be enjoying himself. He kept hearing noises. Benjamin on the contrary was perfectly at home, and yet a letter-sleeve. He said that he was in the habit of coming to the garden with his father to get lettuces for their Sunday dinner. The name of Little Benjamin's papar was old Mr. Benjamin Bunny. The lettuces certainly were very fine. Peter did not eat anything. He said he should like to go home. Presently, he dropped half the onions. Little Benjamin said that it was not possible to get back up the pear tree with a load of vegetables. He led the way boldly towards the other end of the garden. They went along a little walk and planks under a sunny red brick wall.

36:58The mice sat on their doorsteps cracking cherry stones. They winked at Peter Rabbit and Little Benjamin Bunny. Presently, Peter let the pocket hanker chief go again. They got amongst flower pots and frames and tubs. Peter heard noises worse than ever. His eyes were as big as lollipops. He was a step or two in front of his cousin when he suddenly stopped. This is what those little rabbits saw around that corner. Little Benjamin took one look, and then in half a minute less than no time, he hid himself and Peter and the onions underneath the large blanket. The cat got up and stretched herself and came and sniffed at the basket. Perhaps she liked the smell of onions. Anyway, she sat down upon the top of the basket. She sat there for five hours. I cannot draw you a picture of Peter and Benjamin underneath the basket because it was quite dark and because the smell of onions was fearful, it made Peter Rabbit a little Benjamin cry. The sun got round behind the wood

37:59and it was quite late in the afternoon, but still the cats sat upon the basket. At length there was a pitter-patter, pitter-patter, and some bits of mortar fell from the wall above. The cat looked up and saw Old Mr. Benjamin bunny prancing along the top of the wall of the upper terrace. He was smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco and had a little switch in his hand. He was looking for his son. Old Mr. Bunny had no opinion whatever of cats. He took a tremendous jump off the top of the wall onto the top of the cat and cuffed it off the basket and kicked it into the greenhouse, scratching off a handful of fur. The cat was too much surprised to scratch back. When Old Mr. Bunny had driven the cat into the greenhouse, he locked the door. Then he came back to the basket and took out his son Benjamin by the ears and whipped him with a little switch. Then he took out his nephew, Peter. Then he took out the handkerchief of onions and marched out of the garden. When Mr. McGregor returned about half an hour later, he observed several things which perplexed him.

39:01It looked as though some person had been walking all over the garden in a pair of clogs. Only the footmarks were too ridiculously little. Also, he could not understand how the cat could have managed to shut herself up inside the greenhouse, locking the door upon the outside. When Peter got home, his mother forgave him because she was so glad to see that he had found his shoes and coat. Cottontail and Peter folded up the pocket-hank chief and old Mrs. Rabbit strung up the onions and hung them from the kitchen ceiling with the bunches of herbs and the rabbit tobacco. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please see Librevox.org. The Tale of Too Bad Mice by Beatrix Potter, read by Hugh McGuire. For W. M. L. W., the little girl who had the doll's house. Once upon a time there was a very beautiful doll's house.

40:06It was red brick with white windows, and it had real, muslin curtains and a front door and a chimney. It belonged to two dolls called Lucinda and Jane. At least it belonged to Lucinda, but she never ordered meals. Jane was the cook, but she never did any cooking, because the dinner had been bought ready made in a box full of shavings. There were two red lobsters and a ham, a fish, a pudding, and some pairs and oranges. They would not come off the plates, but they were extremely beautiful. One morning Lucinda and Jane had gone out for a drive in the doll's preambulator. There was no one in the nursery, and it was very quiet. Presently there was little scuffling,

41:07scratching noise in the corner near the fireplace, where there was a hole under the skirting board. Tom Thum put out his head for a moment, and then popped it in again. Tom Thum was a mouse. A minute afterwards, Hanke Munka, his wife, put her head out, too. And when she saw that there was no one in the nursery, she ventured out on the oil cloth under the coal box. The doll's house stood at the other side of the fireplace. Tom Thum and Hanke Munka went cautiously across the heart rug. They pushed the front door. It was not fast. Tom Thum and Hanke Munka went upstairs and peeped into the dining-room. Then they squeaked with joy.

42:08Such a lovely dinner was laid out upon the table. There were tin spoons and lead knives and forks, and two dolly chairs, all so convenient. Tom Thum set to work at once to carve the ham. It was a beautiful, shiny yellow, streaked with red. The knife crumpled up and hurt him. He put his finger to his mouth. It is not boiled enough. It is hard. You have a try, Hanke Munka. Hanke Munka stood up in her chair and chopped at the ham with another lead knife. It is as hard as the ham that the cheese mongers said, Hanke Munka. The ham broke off the plate with a jerk and rolled into the table. Let it alone, said Tom Thum. Give me some fish, Hanke Munka.

43:10Hanke Munka tried every tin spoon in turn. The fish was glued to the dish. Then Tom Thum lost his temper. He put the ham in the middle of the floor and hit it with the tongs and with the shovel. Bang, bang, smash, smash! The ham flew all into pieces. For underneath the shiny paint it was made of nothing, the plaster. There was no end to the rage and disappointment of Tom Thum and Hanke Munka. They broke up the pudding, the lobsters, the pears, and the oranges. As the fish would not come off the plate, they put it into the red hot crinkly paper fire in the kitchen. But it would not burn either. Tom Thum went up to the kitchen chimney and looked out at the top. There was no suit. While Tom Thum was up the chimney Hanke Munka had another disappointment. He found some tiny canisters upon the dresser, labeled rice, coffee, saggo.

44:16But when she turned them upside down there was nothing inside, but red and blue beads. Then those mice set to work to do all the mistruth they could, especially Tom Thum. He took Jane's clothes out of the chest of drawers, in her bedroom and he threw them out of the top floor window. But Hanke Munka had a frugal mind. After pulling half the feathers out of Lucinda's bolster, she remembered that she herself was in want of a feather bed. With Tom Thum's assistance she carried the bolster downstairs and across the hearth rug. It was difficult to squeeze the bolster into the mouse hole, but they managed it somehow. Then Hanke Munka went back and fetched a chair, a bookcase, a birdcage, and several small odds and ends. The bookcase and the birdcage refused to go into the mouse hole.

45:19Hanke Munka left them behind the coal box and went to fetch a cradle. Hanke Munka was just returning with another chair, when suddenly there was a noise of talking outside upon the landing. The mice rushed back to their hole. The dolls came into the nursery. What a sight met the eyes of Jane and Lucinda. Lucinda sat upon the upset kitchen stove and stared, and Jane lent against the kitchen dresser and smiled, but neither of them made any remark. The bookcase and the birdcage were rescued from under the coal box, but Hanke Munka has got the cradle and some of Lucinda's clothes. She also has some useful pots and pans and several other useful things. The little girl that the doll's house belonged to said, I will get a doll and dressed like a policeman. But the nurse said, I will set a mouse trap.

46:21So that is the story of the two bad mice. But they were not so very very naughty after all, because Tom Thumb paid for everything he broke. He found a crooked six fence under the heartthrog, and upon Christmas Eve he and Hanke Munka stuffed it into one of the stockings of Lucinda and Jane. And very early every morning, before everyone is awake, Hanke Munka comes with a dust pan and a broom to sweep up the doll's house. And of the tale of the two bad mice. This is a Libravox Recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. The tale of Mrs. Teguinkle by Beatrix Potter.

47:22Once upon a time there was a little girl called Lucy, who lived at a farm called Little Town. She was a good little girl, only she was always losing her pocket hanker chips. One day Lucy came into the farm yard crying, oh she did cry so. I have lost my pocket hankin, three hankins in a penny. Have you seen them tabby kitten? The kitten went on washing her white paws, so Lucy asked a speckled hen. Sally, any penny, have you found three pocket hankins? But speckled hen ran into the barn, clucking. I go barefoot, barefoot, barefoot. And then Lucy asked Cock Robbins sitting on a twig. Cock Robbins looks sideways at Lucy with his bright black eye, and he flew over a style and away. Lucy climbed upon the style and looked up at the hill behind Little Town. The hill that goes up, up, into the clouds, as though it had no top. And a great way up the hillside she thought she saw some white things spread upon the

48:25grass. Lucy scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her. She ran along a steep pathway up and up until Little Town was right away down below. She could have dropped the pebble down the chimney. Presently she came to a spring bubbling out from the hillside. One had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water, but the water was already running over, where the can was no bigger than an eight cup. And where the sand upon the path was wet, there were footmarks of a very small person. Lucy ran on and on. The path ended under a big rock. The grass was short and green, and there were clothes, props cut from bracken stems, lines of plated rushes, and a heap of tiny clothespins, but no pocket-hanker-cheeks. There was something else, a door, straight into the hill, and inside someone was singing. Littlely white and clean, no, was little frills between, no, smooth and hot, red rusty spot.

49:32Never hear, be seen, no. Lucy knocked once, twice, and interrupted the song. A little frightened voice called out, who's that? Lucy opened the door, and what do you think there was inside the hill? A nice clean kitchen was a flagged floor and wooden beams, just like any other farm kitchen. Only the ceiling was so low that Lucy's head nearly touched it, and the pots and pans were small, and so was everything. There was a nice hot, syngy smell, and at the table, with an iron in her hand, stood a very stout, short person, staring anxiously at Lucy. Her print gown was tucked up, and she was wearing a large apron over her striped petty coat. Her little black nose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle, and her eyes went twinkle, twinkle, and underneath her cap, where Lucy had yellow curls, that little person had prickles.

50:35Who are you, said Lucy? Have you seen my pocket-hankens? The little person made a bob curtsy. Oh yes, if you please him, my name is Mrs. Tiggie Winkle. Oh yes, if you please him, I'm an excellent clean stature. And she took something out of a clothes basket, and spread it on the ironing blanket. What's that thing said Lucy? That's not my pocket-hankin. Oh no, if you please him, that's a little scarlet waistcoat belonging to cock robin. And she ironed it, and folded it, and put it on one side. Then she took something else off a clothes horse. That isn't my penny, said Lucy. Oh no, if you please him. That's a damished tablecloth belonging to Jenny Ren. Look how it stained with current wine. It's very bad to wash, said Mrs. Tiggie Winkle. Mrs. Tiggie Winkle's nose went sniffle, sniffle, sniffle, and her eyes went twinkle, twinkle.

51:35And she fetched another hot iron from the fire. There's one of my pocket-hankens, cried Lucy, and there's my penny. Mrs. Tiggie Winkle ironed it, and gotford it, and shook out the frills. Oh, that is lovely, said Lucy. And what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves? Oh, that's a pair of stockness belonging to Sally Henny Penny. Look how she's worn the heels that was scratching in the yard. She'll very soon go barefoot, said Mrs. Tiggie Winkle. Why, there's another hanker sniff. But it isn't mine. It's red. Oh no, if you please him. That one belongs to old Mrs. Rabbit. And it did so smell of onions. I've had to wash it separately. I can't get out the smell. There's another one of mine, said Lucy. What are those funny little white things? That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten.

52:37I only have to iron them. She washes them herself. There's my last pocket-hankens, said Lucy. And what are you dipping into the basin of starch? There are little dicky shirt fronts belonging to Tom Tittmills. Most terrible particular, said Mrs. Tiggie Winkle. Now I've finished my ironing. I'm going to air some clothes. What are these deer-soft fluffy things, said Lucy? Oh, those are willy coats belonging to little lambs of Skago. Will their jackets take off as Lucy? Oh yes, if you please him. Look at the sheep mark on the shoulder. And here's one Mark for gate-scarth. And three that come from little town. They're always marked at washing, said Mrs. Tiggie Winkle. And she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes, small brown coats of mice, and one velvety black molskin waste coat, and a red tail coat with no tail

53:37belonging to squirrel nutkin, and a very much shrunk blue jacket belonging to Peter Rabbit, and a petty coat, not marked, that had gone lost in the washing. And at last, the basket was empty. Then Mrs. Tiggie Winkle made tea, a cup for herself, and a cup for Lucy. They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at one another. Mrs. Tiggie Winkle's hand, holding the tea cup, was very, very brown, and very, very wrinkly with soap-suds. And all through her gown and her cap, they were hairpin sticking wrong end out, so that Lucy didn't like to sit too near her. When they had finished tea, they tied up the clothes and bundles, and Lucy's pocket handkerchiefs were folded up inside, or clean penny, and fastened with a silvery safety pin. And then they made up the fire with turf, and came out and locked the door, and hid the key under the door sill.

54:39Then away down the hill, Trottered Lucy and Mrs. Tiggie Winkle, with the bundle of clothes. All the way down the path, little animals came out of the fern to meet them. The very first they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny, and she gave them their nice clean clothes, and all the little animals and birds were so very much obliged to dear Mrs. Tiggie Winkle. So that at the bottom of the hill, when they came to the style, there was nothing left to carry except Lucy's one little bundle. Lucy scrambled up the style with the bundle in her hand, and then she turned to say, good night, and to thank the washerwoman. But what a very odd thing. Mrs. Tiggie Winkle had not waited either for thanks, or for the washing bill. She was running, running, running up the hill, and where was her white field cap, and her shawl, and her gown, and her petty coat, and how small she had grown, and how brown and comfort with prickles.

55:42Why, Mrs. Tiggie Winkle, was nothing but a hedgehog? Now, some people say that little Lucy had been asleep upon the style. But then, how could she have found three clean pocket handkins and a penny, pinned with a silver safety pin? And besides, I have seen that door into the back of the hill, called Cat Bells, and besides, I am very well acquainted with dear Mrs. Tiggie Winkle. End of the Tale of Mrs. Tiggie Winkle, by Beatrix Potter. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. The complete tales of Beatrix Potter. Number seven, the pie and the patty pair. Pussycat sits by the fire. How should she be fair? In walks the little dog says, Miss Pussy, are you there? How do you, Mr. Pussy? Miss just Pussy, how do you do?

56:43I think you kindly, little dog. I fare as well as you. Old Ron. Once upon a time there was a pussycat called Ribby, who invited a little dog called Duchess to tea. Come in good time, my dear Duchess, said Ribby's letter, and we will have something so very nice. I am baking it in a pie dish, a pie dish with a pink rim. You never tasted anything so good, and you shall eat it all. I will eat muffins, my dear Duchess, wrote Ribby. I will come very punctually, my dear Ribby wrote Duchess, and then at the end she added, I hope it isn't mouse. And then she thought it did not look quite polite, so she scratched out, isn't mouse, and changed it to, I hope it will be fine, and she gave her letter to the postman. But she thought a great deal about Ribby's pie, and she read Ribby's letter over and over again. I'm dreadfully afraid it will be mouse, said Duchess, to herself. I really couldn't, couldn't eat mouse pie, and I shall have to eat it because it is a party, and my pie was going to be veal at ham. A pink and white pie dish, and so was mine.

57:46Just like Ribby's dishes, they were both bought at Tab of the Titchwits. Duchess went into her larder and took a pie off the shelf and looked at it. Oh, what a good idea! Why shouldn't I rush along and put my pie into Ribby's oven when Ribby isn't there? Ribby, in the meantime, had received Duchess's answer, and as soon as she was sure the little dog would come, she popped her pie into the oven. There were two ovens, one above the other. Some other knobs and handles were only ornamental and not intended to open. Ribby put the pie in the lower oven, the door was very stiff. The top oven makes two quickly, said Ribby to herself. Ribby put on some coal and swept the hearth. Then she went out with the can to the well for water to fill up the kettle. Then she began to set the room in order, for it was the sitting room as well as the kitchen. When Ribby had laid the table, she went out down the field to the farm to fetch milk and butter. When she came back, she peeped into the bottom oven, the pie looked very comfortable. Ribby put on her shawl and bonnet and went out again with a basket to the village shop to buy a packet of tea, a pound of lump sugar,

58:47and a pot of marmalade. And just at the same time Duchess came out of her house at the other end of the village. Ribby met Duchess halfway down the street, also carrying a basket covered with a cloth. They only bowed to one another. They did not speak because they were going to have a party. As soon as Duchess had got round the corner out of sight, she simply ran straight away to Ribby's house. Ribby went into the shop and bought what she required, and came out after a pleasant gossip with cousin Tabitha Titchwood. Ribby went on to Timothy Baker's and bought the muffins. Then she went home. There seemed to be a sort of scuffling noise in the back passage, as she was coming in at the front door, but there was nobody there. Duchess in the meantime had slipped out the back door. It is a very odd thing that Ribby's pie was not in the oven when I put mine in. And I can't find it anywhere. I've looked all over the house. I put my pie into a nice hot oven at the top. I could not turn any of the other handles. I think they're all shams, said Duchess. But I wish I could have removed a pie made of mouse. I kind of think what she is delicate.

59:47I heard Ribby coming and I had to run out the back door. Duchess went home and brushed her beautiful black coat, and then she picked a bunch of flowers in her garden as a present for Ribby, and passed the time until the clock struck four. Ribby, having assured herself by careful search that there really was no one hiding in the cupboard or in the larger, went upstairs to change her dress. She came downstairs again and made the tea, and put the tea pot on the hob. She peeped into the bottom oven. The pie had become a lovely brown and was steaming hot. She sat down before the fire to wait for the little dog. I'm glad I used the bottom oven, said Ribby. The top one would certainly have been much too hot. Very punctually at four o'clock, Duchess started to go to the party. At quarter past four to the minute, there came an almost gentile little tapety tap. His misrips turned at home, inquired Duchess in the porch. Come in, and how do you do my dear Duchess, cried Ribby? I hope I see you well. Quite well, I thank you, and how did you do my dear Ribby, said Duchess. I've brought you some flowers, which is delicious smell of pie.

1:00:48Oh, what lovely flowers! Yes, it is mouse and bacon. I think it wants another five minutes, said Ribby. Just a shade longer. I would pour out the tea while we wait. Do you take sugar, my dear Duchess? Oh, yes, please, my dear Ribby, and may I have a lump upon my nose. With pleasure, my dear Duchess. Duchess sat up with the sugar on her nose and sniffed. Oh, how good that pie smells! I do love veal and ham. I meant to say mouse and bacon. She dropped the sugar in confusion, and had to go hunting under the tea table, so it did not see which oven Ribby opened in order to get out the pie. Ribby set the pie upon the table. There was a very savory smell. This came out from under the tablecloth, munching sugar, and sat up on a chair. I will first cut the pie for you. I'm going to have a muffin and marmalade, said Ribby. I think, thought Duchess to herself. I think it would be wiser if I helped myself to pie. The Ribby did not seem to notice anything when she was cutting it. But very small fine pieces it has cooked into. I did not remember that I had minced it up so fine.

1:01:49I suppose this is a quicker oven than my own. The pie dish was emptying rapidly. Duchess had had four helps already and was fumbling with the spoon. A little more bacon, my dear Duchess, said Ribby. Thank you, my dear Ribby. I was only feeling for the patty pan. The patty pan, my dear Duchess? The patty pan that held up the pie crusts, said Duchess, blushing under her black coat. Oh, I didn't put one in my dear Duchess, said Ribby. I don't think that it is necessary and pie is made of mouse. Duchess fumbled with the spoon. I can't find it, she said anxiously. There isn't a patty pan, said Ribby, looking perplexed. Yes, indeed, my dear Ribby, where can it have gone to, said Duchess. Duchess looked very much alarmed and continued to scoop the inside of the pie dish. I have only four patty pans and they are all in the cupboard. Duchess set up a howl. I shall die, I shall die, I have swallowed a patty pan. Oh, my dear Ribby, I do feel so ill. It is impossible, my dear Duchess, there was not a patty pan. Yes, there was my dear Ribby. I am sure I have swallowed it.

1:02:50That may prop you up with a pillow, my dear Duchess. Where do you think you feel it? Oh, I do feel so ill. All over me, my dear Ribby. Shall I run for the doctor? Oh, yes, yes. That's Dr. Maggity, my dear Ribby. He is a pie himself. You will certainly understand. Ribby settled Duchess in an armchair before the fire and went out and hurried to the village to look for the doctor. She found him with the smithy. Ribby explained that her guest had swallowed a patty pan. Dr. Maggity hopped so fast that Ribby had to run. It was most conspicuous. All the village could see that Ribby was fetching the doctor. But while Ribby had been hunting for the doctor, a curious thing had happened to Duchess who had been left by herself, sitting before the fire, sighing and groaning and feeling very unhappy. How could I have swallowed it, such a large thing as a patty pan? She sat down again and stared more and fully at the grate. The fire crackled, danced, and something sizzled. Duchess started. She opened the door of the top of an out came a rich steamy flavor of veal and ham, and there stood a fine brown pie, and through the hole in the top of the pie crust was a glimpse

1:03:53of a little tin patty pan. Duchess drew a long breath. Then it must have been eating mouse. No wonder I feel ill. But perhaps I should feel worse if I had really swallowed a patty pan, Duchess reflected. But a very awkward thing to have to explain to Ribby. I think I will put my pie in the backyard and say nothing about it. When I go home, I will run around and take it away. She put it outside the back door and sat down again by the fire and shut her eyes. When Ribby arrived with the doctor, she seemed fast asleep. I'm feeling very much better, said Duchess, waking up with a jump. I'm truly glad to hear it. He has brought you a pill, my dear Duchess. I think I should feel quite well if he only felt my pulse, said Duchess, backing away from the magpie. Residled up with something in his beak. It is only a bread pill. You had much better take it. Drink a little milk, my dear Duchess. I'm feeling very much better, my dear Ribby, said Duchess. Do you not think that I had better go home before I get stark? Perhaps it might be wise, my dear Duchess. Ribby and Duchess said goodbye affectionately, and Duchess started home.

1:04:55Halfway up the lane she stopped and looked back. Ribby had gone in and shut her door. Duchess slipped through the fence and ran around the back of Ribby's house and peeped into the yard. Upon the roof of the pig's die sat Dr. Maggity in three jackdaws. The jackdaws were eating pie crust and the magpie was drinking gravy out of the patty pan. Duchess ran home, feeling uncommonly silly. When Ribby came out for a pale full of water to wash up the tea-things, she found a pink and white pie dish lying smashed in the middle of the yard. Ribby stared with amazement. Did you ever see the like? So there really was a patty pan? But my patty pans are all in the kitchen cupboard. Well, I never did. Next time I want to give a party, I will invite cousin Tabitha Twichet. And the pie and the patty pan. To complete tales of Beatrix Potter. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org.

1:05:57This reading by Jed Brewster. The Tale of Mr. Jeremy Fisher by Beatrix Potter. Once upon a time there was a frog called Mr. Jeremy Fisher. He lived in a little damp house amongst the buttercups at the edge of a pond. The water was all slippy sloppy in the larder and in the back passage. But Mr. Jeremy liked getting his feet wet. Nobody ever scolded him, and he never caught a cold. He was quite pleased when he looked out and saw large drops of rain splashing in the pond. I will get some worms and go fishing and catch a dish of minnows for my dinner. Said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. If I catch more than five fish, I will invite my friends Mr. Alderman Tullamy Tortis and Sir Isaac Newton. The Alderman, however, eats salad.

1:07:01Mr. Jeremy put on a mackintosh and a pair of shiny galoshes. He took his rod and basket and set off with enormous hops to the place where he kept his boat. The boat was round and green and very like the other lily leaves. It was tied to a water plant in the middle of the pond. Mr. Jeremy took a reed pole and pushed the boat out into open water. I know a good place for minnows. Said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. Mr. Jeremy stuck his pole into the mud and fastened the boat to it. Then he settled himself cross-legged and arranged his fishing tackle. He had the dearest little red float. His rod was a tough stock of grass. His line was a fine long white horsehair, and he tied a little wriggling worm at the end. The rain trickled down his back, and for nearly an hour he stared at the float.

1:08:05This is getting tiresome. I think I should like some lunch. Said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. He punted back again amongst the water plants and took some lunch out of his basket. I will eat a butterfly sandwich and wait till the shower is over. Said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. A great big water beetle came up underneath the lily leaf and tweaked the toe of one of his galoshes. Mr. Jeremy crossed his legs up shorter, out of reach, and went on eating his sandwich. Wants or twice something moved about with a rustle and a splash amongst the rushes at the side of the pond. I trust that is not a rat. Said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. I think I had better get away from here. Mr. Jeremy shoved the boat out again a little way and dropped in the bait. There was a bite almost directly, the float gave a tremendous bobbet.

1:09:09A minnow, a minnow, I have him by the nose. Said Mr. Jeremy Fisher jerking up his rod. But what a horrible surprise. Instead of a smooth fat minnow, Mr. Jeremy landed little jack sharp, the stickleback covered with spines. The stickleback floundered about the boat, pricking and snapping until he was quite out of breath. When he jumped back into the water, and a shell of other little fishes put their heads out and laughed at Mr. Jeremy Fisher. And while Mr. Jeremy sat disconsolently on the edge of his boat, sucking his sore fingers and peering down into the water, a much worse thing happened. A really frightful thing it would have been if Mr. Jeremy had not been wearing a macintosh. A great, big, enormous trout came up, curfed with a splash, and it seized Mr. Jeremy

1:10:18with a snap. And then it turned and dived down to the bottom of the pond. But the trout was so displeased with the taste of the macintosh that in less than half a minute it spat him out again, and the only thing it swallowed was Mr. Jeremy's galoshes. Mr. Jeremy bounced up to the surface of the water, like a cork and the bubbles out of a soda water bottle, and he swam with all his might to the edge of the pond. He scrambled out on the first bank he came to, and he hopped home across the meadow with his macintosh all in tatters. What a mercy that was not a pike! said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. I have lost my rod and basket, but it does not much matter, for I am sure I should never have dared to go fishing again. He put some sticking plaster on his fingers, and his friends both came to dinner.

1:11:23He could not offer them fish, but he had something else in his larder. After Isaac Newton wore his black and gold waistcoat, and Mr. Alderman Tullamy Tortoise brought a salad with him in a string bag. And instead of a nice dish of minnows, they had a roasted grasshopper with ladybird sauce, which frogs consider a beautiful treat. But I think it must have been nasty! This is a Libbervox recording. All Libbervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit Libbervox.org. Recording by Brad Bush. A great big treasury of Beatrice Potter by Beatrice Potter. The story of a fierce bad rabbit. This is a fierce bad rabbit. Look at his savage whiskers and his claws, and his turned up tail.

1:12:24This is a nice general rabbit. His mother has given him a carrot. The bad rabbit would like some carrot. He doesn't say please. He takes it. And scratches the good rabbit very badly. The good rabbit creeps away and hides in a hole. It feels sad. This is a man with a gun. He sees something sitting on a bench. He thinks it is very funny bird. He comes creeping up behind the trees, and then he shoots bang. This is what happens. But this is all he finds on the bench when he rushes up with his gun. The good rabbit peeps out of his hole, and sees the bad rabbit tearing past without any tail or whiskers. The end of the story of the fierce bad rabbit. This is a Librivox recording. All Librivox recordings are in the public domain.

1:13:26For more information and to find out how you can volunteer, please visit Librivox.org. Read and Recorded by Betsy Bush, Marquette Michigan, December 2005. The Great Big Treasurer of Beatrix Potter. Chapter 10 The Story of Miss Muppet This is a pussy called Miss Muppet. She thinks she has heard a mouse. This is the mouse peeping out behind the cupboard and making fun of Miss Muppet. He is not afraid of a kitten. This is Miss Muppet jumping just too late. She misses the mouse and hits her own head. She thinks it is a very hard cupboard. The mouse watches Miss Muppet from the top of the cupboard. Miss Muppet ties up her head in a duster and sits before the fire. The mouse thinks she is looking very ill.

1:14:28He comes sliding down the bell pole. Miss Muppet looks worse and worse. The mouse comes a little nearer. Miss Muppet holds her poor head in her paws and looks at him through a hole in the duster. The mouse comes very close. And then all of a sudden Miss Muppet jumps upon the mouse. And because the mouse has teased Miss Muppet, Miss Muppet thinks she will tease the mouse. Which is not at all nice of Miss Muppet. She ties him up in the duster and tosses it about like a ball. But she forgot about that hole in the duster. And when she untied it, there was no mouse. He had wriggled out and run away and he is dancing a jig on top of the cupboard. End of the story of Miss Muppet by Beatrix Potter. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain.

1:15:31For more information, or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Recording by Niels Clemenson. And Clemenson at gmail.com. This is a recording of the tale of Tom Kitten from the Great Big Treasury of Beatrix Potter. The tale of Tom Kitten dedicated to all pickles, especially to those that get upon my garden wall. Once upon a time there were three little kittens, and their names were mittens, Tom Kitten, and Muppet. They had dear little fur coats of their own, and they tumbled about the doorstep and played in the dust. But one day their mother, Mrs. Tabitha Twitchett, expected friends to tea. So she fetched the kittens indoors to wash and dress them before the fine company arrived. First she scrubbed their faces. This one is Muppet. Then she brushed their fur.

1:16:33This one is mittens. Then she combed their tails and whiskers. This is Tom Kitten. Tom was very naughty and he scratched. Mrs. Tabitha dressed Muppet and mittens in clean pinifours and tuckers. And then she took all sorts of elegant, uncomfortable clothes out of a chest of drawers, in order to dress up her son, Thomas. Tom Kitten was very fat, and he had grown. Several buttons burst off. His mother sewed them on again. When the three kittens were ready, Mrs. Tabitha unwisely turned them out into the garden, to be out of the way while she made hot buttered toast. Now keep your frocks clean children. You must walk on your hind legs, keep away from the dirty ash pit, and from Sally Henney Penny, and from the pigstie and the puddle ducks, Muppet and mittens walked down the garden path unsteadyly. Presently they trought upon their pinifours and fell on their noses.

1:17:35When they stood up there were several green smears. Let us climb up the rockery and sit on the garden wall, said Muppet. They turned their pinifours back to front and went up with a skip and a jump. His white tucker fell down into the road. Tom Kitten was quite unable to jump when walking upon his hind legs and trousers. He came up the rockery by degrees, breaking the ferns and shedding buttons right and left. He was all in pieces when he reached the top of the wall. Muppet and mittens tried to pull them together. His hat fell off, and the rest of his buttons burst. While they were in difficulties, there was a pit pat, paddle pat, and the three puddle ducks came along the hard high road, marching one behind the other and doing the goose-step, pit pat, paddle pat, pit pat, waddle pat. They stopped and stood in a row and stared up at the kittens.

1:18:36They had very small eyes and looked surprised. Then the two duck birds, Rebecca and Jemima puddle duck, picked up the hat and tucker and put them on. Mittens laughed so that she fell off the wall. Muppet and Tom descended after her, the pinifores and all the rest of Tom clothes came off on the way down. "'Come, Mr. Drake puddle duck,' said Muppet, "'come and help us to dress him. Come and button up Tom!' Mr. Drake puddle duck advanced in a slow sideways manner and picked up the various articles. They put them on himself. They fit in him even worse than Tom Kitten." "'So very fine, morning,' said Mr. Drake puddle duck. And he and Jemima and Rebecca puddle duck set off up the road, keeping step, pit pat, paddle pat, pit pat, waddle pat. Then Tabitha Twitch came down the garden and found her kittens on the wall with no clothes

1:19:40on. She pulled them off the wall, smacked them, and took them back to the house. My friends will arrive in a minute, and you are not fit to be seen. I am affronted,' said Mrs. Tabitha Twitchett. She sent them upstairs, and I am sorry to say she told her friends that they were in bed with the measles, which was not true. Quite the quaint, very, they were not in bed, not in the least. Somehow there were very extra ordinary noises overhead, which disturbed the dignity and repose of the tea party. And I think that someday I shall have to make another larger book to tell you more about Tom Kitten. As for the puddle ducks, they went into a pond. The clothes all came off directly, because there were no buttons. And Mr. Drake puddle duck and Jemima and Rebecca have been looking for them ever since. This concludes the chapter. This is a Libravox Recording.

1:20:41All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Recording by Brad Bush. A great big treasury of Beatrice Potter by Beatrice Potter. Jemima puddle duck, a farm yard tale for Ralph and Betsy. What a funny side it is to see a brute of ducklings with a hen. Listen to the story of Jemima puddle duck, who was annoyed because the farmer's wife would not let her hatch her own eggs. Her sister-in-law, Mrs. Burbekah puddle duck, was perfectly willing to leave the hatchling to someone else. I have not the patience to sit on a nest for 28 days, and no more have you Jemima. You would let them go cold, you know you would. I wish to hatch my own eggs, I will hatch them by myself. Quack Jemima puddle duck. She tried to hide her eggs, but they were always found and carried off.

1:21:41Jemima puddle duck became quite desperate. She determined to make a nest right away from the farm. She set off on a fine spring afternoon along the cart road that leads over the hill. She was wearing a shawl and a poke bonnet. When she reached the top of the hill, she saw a wood in the distance. She thought that it looked a safe quiet spot. Jemima puddle duck was not much in the habit of flying. She ran downhill a few yards flapping her shawl and then she jumped off into the air. She flew beautifully when she had got a good start. She skimmed along over the tree tops until she saw an open place in the middle of the wood, where the trees and brushwood had been cleared. Jemima alighted rather heavily and began to waddle about in search of a convenient dry nesting place. She rather fancied a tree stump amongst the tall fox gloves. But seated upon this stump, she was startled to find an elegantly dressed gentleman, reading a newspaper.

1:22:42He had black prick ears and sandy colored whiskers. Quack said Jemima puddle duck with her head and her bonnet on the one side. Quack? The gentleman raised his eyes above the newspaper and looked curiously at Jemima. «Madam, have you lost your way?» said he. He had a long bushy tail, which he was sitting upon, as the stump was somewhat damp. Jemima thought him mighty civil and handsome. She explained that she had not lost her way, but she was trying to find a convenient dry nesting place. «Ah, is that so indeed?» said the gentleman with the sandy whiskers, looking curiously at Jemima. He folded up the newspaper and put it in his coat-tailed pocket. Jemima complained of the superfluous hen. «Indeed, how interesting. I wish I could meet with that foul. I would teach it to mind its own business. But as to nest, there is no difficulty. I have a sack full of feathers in my woodshed.

1:23:46No, my dear Madame, you will be in nobody's way. You may sit there as long as you like,' said the bushy, long-tailed gentleman. He led the way to a very retired, dismal-looking house amongst the fox gloves. He was built to faggots and turf, and there were two broken pales, one on top of another by way of a chimney. This is my summer residence. «You would not find my earth, my winter house, so convenient,' said the hospital gentleman. Here was a tumbled down shed at the back of a house, made of old soap boxes. The gentleman opened the door and showed Jemima in. The shed was almost quite full of feathers. It was almost suffocating, but it was comfortable and very soft. Jemima puddled her, was rather surprised to find such a vast quantity of feathers, but it was very comfortable, and she met a nest without any trouble at all. When she came out, the sandy whisker gentleman was sitting on a log, reading the newspaper.

1:24:46At least he had spread it out, but he was looking over the top of it. He was so polite that he seemed almost sorry to let Jemima go home for the night. He promised to take great care of her nest until she came back again the next day. He said he loved eggs and ducklings. He should be proud to see a fine nest in his woodshed. Jemima puddled her, came every afternoon. She laid nine eggs in the nest. They were greeny white and very large. The Foxy gentleman admired them immensely. He used to turn them over and count them when Jemima was not there. At last Jemima told him that she intended to begin to sit the next day. And I will bring a bag of corn with me so that I'd eat never leave my nest until the eggs are hatched. They might catch cold," said the conscientious Jemima. "'Badum, I beg of you not to trouble yourself with the bag. I will provide you oats, but before you commence your tedious sitting, I intend to give you a treat.

1:25:47Let us have a dinner party all to our cells.' May I ask you to bring up some herbs from the farm garden to make a savory omelet, sage and thyme, and mint and two onions and some parsley. I will provide lard for the stuff. Lard for the omelet.' The husband had the hospital gentleman with the sandy whiskers. Jemima puddleduck was a simpleton. Not even the mention of sage and onions made her suspicious. She went round the farm garden nibbling off snippets of all the different sorts of herbs that are used for stuffing a roast duck. And she wallowed in the kitchen and got two onions out of a basket. The collie dog kept, met her coming out. "'What are you doing with those onions? Where do you go after having to do it by yourself?' Jemima puddleduck?' Jemima was rather in awe of the collie. She told him the whole story. The collie listened with his wise head on one side. He grin when she described the polite gentleman with the sandy whiskers. He asked several questions about the wood and the exact position of the house and shed.

1:26:50Then he went out and trotted down the village. He went to look for the two foxhound puppies. They were out at walk with the butcher. Jemima puddleduck went up the cart road for the last time on a sunny afternoon. She was brother burdened with bunches of herbs and two onions in a bag. She flew over the wood and alighted opposite the house of the bushy long-tailed gentleman. He was sitting on a log. He sniffed the air and kept glancing uneasily round the wood. When Jemima alighted, he quite jumped. Come into the house as soon as you have looked at your eggs. Give me the herbs for the omelette. Be sharp. He was brother abrupt. Jemima puddleduck had never heard him speak like that. She felt surprised and uncomfortable. While she was inside, she heard pattern of feet around the back of the shed. Someone with a big black nose sniffed at the bottom of the door and then locked it. Jemima became much alarmed. A moment afterward, there were most awful noises, barking, banging, growls and howls, squealing

1:27:52and groan. And nothing more was ever seen of that foxy whisker gentleman. Presently, kept open the door of the shed and let out Jemima puddleduck. Unfortunately, the puppies rushed in and gobbled up all the eggs before he could stop them. He had a bite on his ear and both the puppies were living. Jemima puddleduck was escorted home and tears on account of those eggs. She laid some more in June and she was permitted to keep them herself, but only for them hatched. Jemima puddleduck said it was because of her nerves, but she had always been a bad sitter. The end of the tale of Jemima puddleduck This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information and to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org

1:28:53The Rolly Polypudding by Beatrix Potter In remembrance of Sammy, the intelligent, think-eyed representative of a persecuted but irrepressible race, an affectionate little friend and most accomplished thief. Once upon a time there was an old cat called Mrs. Tabitha Twitchett who was an anxious parent. She used to lose her kittens continually and whenever they were lost, they were always in mischief. On baking day, she determined to shut them up in a cupboard. She caught moppetan mittens, but she could not find Tom. Mrs. Tabitha went up and down all over the house, mewing for Tom kitten. She looked in the pantry, under the staircase, and she searched the best spare bedroom that

1:29:56was all covered up with dust sheets. She went right upstairs and looked into the attic, but she could not find him anywhere. It was an old old house full of cupboards and passages. Some of the walls were full feet thick and there used to be queer noises inside them, as if there might be a little secret staircase. Certainly there were odd little jagged doorways in the wangestot and things disappeared at night, especially cheese and bacon. Mrs. Tabitha became more and more distracted and new dreadfully. While their mother was searching the house, moppet and mittens had gotten to mischief. The cupboard door was not locked, so they pushed it open and came out. They went straight to the door which was set to rise in a pan before the fire.

1:30:59They patented with their little soft paws. Shall we make dear little muffins?" said Mittens, to moppet. By just at that moment somebody knocked at the front door and moppet jumped into the flower barrel in a fright. Mittens ran to the dairy and hid in an empty jar on the stone shelf where the milk pan stand. The visitor was a neighbour, Mrs. Ruby. She had called to borrow some yeast. Mrs. Tabitha came downstairs, mooring dreadfully. Come in, Kazan Ruby, come in and sit you down. I'm in sad trouble, Kazan Ruby. Said Tabitha, shedding tears. I've lost my dear son Thomas. I'm afraid the rats have got him. She wiped her eyes with her apron. He's a bad kitten, Kazan Tabitha.

1:32:00He made a cat's cradle of my best bonnet last time I came to tea. Where have you looked for him? All over the house, the rats are too many for me. What a thing it is to have an undruly family? Said Mrs. Tabitha twitch it. I'm not afraid of rats. I will help you to find him and whip him too. What is all that suit in the fender? The chimney wants sweeping. Oh dear me, Kazan Ruby. Now more pretend mittens are gone. They have both got out of the cupboard. Ruby and Tabitha said to work to search the house thoroughly again. They've poked under the beds with Ruby's umbrella and they rung it in cupboards. They even fetched a candle and looked inside a clothes test in one of the attics. They could not find anything. But once they heard a door bang and somebody scutted downstairs.

1:33:05Yes, it is infested with rats, said Tabitha cheerfully. They caught seven young ones out of one hole in the back kitchen. And we had them for dinner last Saturday. And once I saw the old father rat and enormous old rat Kazan Ruby. I was just going to jump upon him when he showed his yellow teeth at me and whisked down the hole. The rats get up on my nerves Kazan Ruby, said Tabitha. Ruby and Tabitha searched and searched. They both heard a curious, roly, polling noise under the attic floor. There was nothing to be seen. They returned to the kitchen. Yes, one of your kittens at least, said Ruby, dragging Moppet out of the flower barrel. They shook the flower of her and set her down on the kitchen floor.

1:34:06She seemed to be in a terrible fright. Oh mother, mother! Say Moppet, there's been an old woman rat in the kitchen and she stole in some of the dough. The two cats ran to look at the dough pan. Sure enough, there were marks of little scratching fingers and a lump of dough was gone. Which way did she go Moppet? But Moppet had been too much frightened to peek out of the barrel again. Ruby and Tabitha took her with them to keep her safely inside, while they went on with their search. They went into the dairy. The first thing they found was mittens, hiding in an empty jar. They tipped over the jar and she scrambled out. Oh mother, mother! said mittens. Oh mother, mother! There has been an old man rat in the dairy, a dreadful, Norma's big rat mother and he

1:35:11stole in a pet a butter and the rolling pin. Ruby and Tabitha looked at one another. A rolling pin and butter. Oh my poor son Thomas, exclaimed Tabitha ringing her paws. A rolling pin said Ruby. Did we not hear a rolling-colding noise in the attic when we were looking into that chest? Ruby and Tabitha rushed upstairs again. Sure enough, the rolling-colding noise was still going on quite distinctly under the attic floor. This is serious, cousin Tabitha. We must send for John joiner at once with a saw. Now this is what had been happening to Tom Kitten and it shows how very unwise it is to go up a chimney in a very old house where a person does not know his way and where there are enormous rats.

1:36:13Tom Kitten did not want to be shut up in a cupboard when he saw that his mother was going to bake, he determined to hide. He looked about for a nice convenient place and he fixed upon the chimney. The fire had only just been lighted and it was not hot, but there was a white choky smoke from the green sticks. Tom Kitten got upon the fender and looked up. It was a big old fashioned fireplace. The chimney itself was wide enough inside for a man to stand up and walk about, so there was plenty of room for a little Tomcat. He jumped right up into the fireplace, balancing himself upon the iron ball with a cable hangs. Tom Kitten took another big jump off the ball and landed on a ledge, high up inside the chimney, knocking down some suit into the fender. Tom Kitten coughed and choked with the smoke.

1:37:15He could hear the sticks beginning to crackle and burn in the fireplace down below. He made up his mind to climb right to the top and get out on the slates and try to catch sparrows. I cannot go back. If I slipped I might fall in the fire and cinch my beautiful tail and my little blue jacket. The chimney was a very big old fashioned one. It was built in the days when people burnt logs of wood upon the half. The chimney stacks stood up above the roof like a little stone tower and the daylight shone down from the top under the slanting slates that kept out the rain. Tom Kitten was getting very frightened. He climbed up and up and up. When he waited sideways through inches of suit he was like a little sweep himself. It was most confusing in the dark. One flew seemed to lead into another.

1:38:17There was less smoke. Her Tom Kitten felt quite lost. He scrambled up and up but before he reached the chimney top he came to a place where somebody had loosened his stone in the wall. There was some mutton bones lying about. There seems funny, said Tom Kitten. Who has been annoying bones up here in the chimney? I wish I had never come. And what a funny smell. It is something like a mouse. Let me driftfully strong. It makes me sneeze, said Tom Kitten. He squeezed through the hole in the wall and dragged himself along a most uncomfortably tight passage where there was scarcely any light. He grobbed his way carefully for several yards. He was at the back of the scurting board in the attic where there is a little mark in the picture. All at once he fell head over heels in the dark down the hole and landed on a heap of

1:39:20very dirty rags. When Tom Kitten picked himself up and looked about him he found himself in a place that he had never seen before. Although he had lived all his life in the house, it was a very small, staffing, fasty room with boards and rafters and cobwebs and a laugh and plaster. Hopper said to him as far away as he could sit was an enormous rat. What do you mean by tumbling into my bed all covered with swatz? Said the rat, chattering his teeth. Please sir, the chimney wants sweeping, said put Tom Kitten. Anna Maria, Anna Maria, squeaked the rat. There was a pattern noise and an old woman rat poked her head rounder after. All in a minute she rushed up on Tom Kitten and before he knew what was happening, his coat

1:40:20was pulled off and he was rolled up in a bundle and tied with string in very hard knots. Anna Maria did the tying, the old rat watched her and took snuff. When she had finished they both sat staring at him with their mouths open. Anna Maria said the old man rat whose name was Samuel Whiskers. Anna Maria baked me a kitten dumbling, roly, poly pudding for my dinner. It requires dough and a pet of butter and a rolling pin, said Anna Maria, considering Tom Kitten with her head on one side. No, said Samuel Whiskers, make it properly Anna Maria with bread crumbs. Francis, butter and dough replied Anna Maria. The two rats consulted together for a few minutes and then went away.

1:41:22Samuel Whiskers got through a hole in the Wayne Scott and went boldly down the front staircase to the dairy to get the butter. He did not meet anybody. He made a second journey for the rolling pin. He pushed it in front of him with his paws, like a brewers man, trembling a barrel. He could hear Ruby and Tabitha talking, but they were too busy lighting the candle to look into the chest. They did not see him. Anna Maria went down by way of skirting board and a window shatter to the kitchen to steal the dough. She borrowed a small saucer and scooped up the dough with her paws. She did not observe more pit. While Tom Kitten was left alone under the floor of the attic, he wriggled about and tried to mute for help. But his mouth was full of silt and cobwebs, and he was tied up in such very tight knots he could not make anybody hear him.

1:42:25Except a spider who came out of a crack in the ceiling and examined the knots critically from a safe distance. It was a judge of knots, because it had a habit of tying up unfortunate blue bottles. It did not offer to assist him. Tom Kitten wriggled and squirmed until he was quite exhausted. Presently, the rats came back and said to work to make him into a dumpling. First, they smeared him with butter, and then they rolled him in the dough. Will not the string be very indigestible, Anna Maria? Inquired Samuel was scarce. Anna Maria said she thought that it was of no consequence, but she wished that Tom Kitten would hold his head still, as it disarranged the pastry. She laid hold of his ears. Tom Kitten bit and spit and mued and wriggled, and the rolling pin went rolling, rolling,

1:43:26rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling. The rats each held an end. His tail is sticking out. You did not fix enough dough, Anna Maria. I fixed as much as I could carry, replied Anna Maria. I do not think, said Samuel Wiskers, boarding to take a look at Tom Kitten. I do not think it will be a good pudding. It smells sooty. Anna Maria was about to argue the point, when all at once they began to be other sounds up above. The rasping noise of a saw, and the noise of a little dog scratching and yelping. The rats dropped the rolling pin and listened attentively. We are discovered in interrupted Anna Maria. Let us collect our property and other people, and depart at once. I fear that we shall be obliged to leave this pudding.

1:44:28But I am persuaded that the nots would have proved indigestible, but ever you may urge to the contrary. Come away at once and help me to tie up some mutton bones in a counter-pain, said Anna Maria. I have got half a smoked ham hidden in the chimney. So it happened that by the time John Joyner had got the plank up, there was nobody here under the floor except the rolling pin and Tom Kitten in a very dirty dumpling. But there was a strong smell of rats, and John Joyner spent the rest of the morning sniffing and whining and wagging his tail, and going round and round with his head in the hole like a gimlet. Then he nailed the plank down again and put his tools in his bag and came downstairs. The cat family had quite recovered. They invited him to stay to dinner. The dumpling had been peeled off Tom Kitten and made secretly into a bag pudding, but

1:45:30currents in it to hide the smuts. They had been obliged to put Tom Kitten into a hot bath to get the butterloaf. John Joyner smelt the pudding, but he regretted that he had no time to stay to dinner because he had just finished making a wheelbarrow for Miss Potter, and she had ordered two hen crooks. And when I was going to the post, late in the afternoon, I looked up the land from the corner and I saw Mr. Samuel Whiskers and his wife on the run with big bundles on a little wheelbarrow, which looked very much like mine. They were just turning in at the gate to the barn of farmer potatoes. Samuel Whiskers was puffing and out of breath. Anna Maria was still arguing in shroll tones. She seemed to know her way and she seemed to have a quantity of luggage. I am sure I never gave her leave to borrow my wheelbarrow.

1:46:33They went into the barn and hauled their parcels with a bit of string to the top of the hay-mo. After that, there were no more rats for a long time at tab of the twitchards. As for farmer potatoes, he has been driven nearly distracted. There are rats and rats and rats in his barn. They eat up the chicken food and steal the oats and bran and make holes in the meal bags. And they are all descended from Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Whiskers, children and grandchildren and great, great, grand children. There is no end to them. Moppeten mittens have grown up into very good red catches. They go out rat catching in the village and they find plenty of employment. They charge so much a dozen and earn their living very comfortably. They hang up the rats' tails in a row on the barn door to show how many they have caught,

1:47:37dozens and dozens of them. But Tom Kitten has always been afraid of a rat. He never just faced anything that is bigger than a mouse. End of the Rowling-Poly pudding. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. Reading by Annie Coleman in St. Louis, Missouri on December 18, 2005. The Great Big Treasury of Beatrix Potter. Chapter 14 The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies. For all little friends of Mr. McGregor, Anne Peter, and Benjamin.

1:48:37It is said that the effect of eating too much lettuce is soporific. I have never felt sleepy after eating lettuce's, but then I am not a rabbit. They certainly had a very soporific effect upon the flopsy bunnies. When Benjamin bunny grew up, he married his cousin flopsy. They had a large family, and they were very improvident and cheerful. I do not remember the separate names of their children. They were generally called the flopsy bunnies. As there was not always quite enough to eat, Benjamin used to borrow cabbages from flopsy's brother, Peter Rabbit, who kept a nursery garden. Sometimes Peter Rabbit had no cabbages to spare. When this happened, the flopsy bunnies went across the field to a rubbish heap, in the ditch outside Mr. McGregor's garden. Mr. McGregor's rubbish heap was a mixture.

1:49:38There were jam pots and paper bags, and mountains of chopped grass from the mowing machine, which always tasted oily, and some rotten vegetable marrows, and an old boot or two. One day, oh joy, there were a quantity of overgrown lettuces, which had shot into flower. The flopsy bunnies simply stuffed themselves with lettuces. By degrees, one after another, they were overcome with slumber, and lay down in the mown grass. Benjamin was not so much overcome as his children. Before going to sleep, he was sufficiently wide awake to put a paper bag over his head to keep off the flies. The little flopsy bunnies slept delightfully in the warm sun. From the lawn beyond the garden came the distant, pluckety sound of the mowing machine.

1:50:40The blue bottles buzzed about the wall, and a little old mouse picked over the rubbish among the jam pots. I can tell you her name. She was called Tomasina Tittle Mouse, a wood mouse with a long tail. She rustled across the paper bag, and awakened Benjamin bunny. The mouse apologized profusely, and said that she knew Peter Rabbit. While she and Benjamin were talking, close under the wall, they heard a heavy tread above their heads, and suddenly, Mr. McGregor emptied out a sackful of lawn mowings right upon the top of the sleeping flopsy bunnies. Benjamin shrank down under his paper bag, the mouse hid in a jam pot. The little rabbit smiled sweetly in their sleep under the shower of grass. They did not awake because lettuces had been so so horrific. They dreamt that their mother flopsy was tucking them up in a hay bed.

1:51:43Mr. McGregor looked down after emptying his sack. He saw some funny little brown tips of ears sticking up through the lawn mowings. He stared at them for some time. Presently a fly settled on one of them, and it moved. Mr. McGregor climbed down onto the rubbish heap. One, two, three, four, five, six little rabbits. Said he, as he dropped them into his sack. The flopsy bunnies dreamt that their mother was turning them over in bed. They stirred a little in their sleep, but still they did not wake up. Mr. McGregor tied up the sack and left it on the wall. He went to put away the mowing machine. When he was gone, Mrs. Flopsy bunny, who had remained at home, came across the field. She looked suspiciously at the sack, and wondered where everybody was.

1:52:44Then the mouse came out of her jam pot, and Benjamin took the paper bag off his head, and they told the dull, full tale. Benjamin and Flopsy were in despair. They could not undo the string. But Mrs. Tittle Mouse was a resourceful person. He nibbled a hole in the bottom corner of the sack. The little rabbits were pulled out and pinched to wake them. Their parents stuffed the empty sack with three rotten vegetable marrows, an old blacking brush, and two decayed turnips. Then they all hid under a bush and watched for Mr. McGregor. Mr. McGregor came back and picked up the sack and carried it off. He carried it hanging down, as if it were rather heavy. The Flopsy bunny's followed at a safe distance. They watched him go into his house, and then they crept up to the window to listen.

1:53:46Mr. McGregor threw down the sack on the stone floor in a way that would have been extremely painful to the Flopsy bunny's if they had happened to have been inside it. They could hear him drag his chair on the flags and chuckle. One, two, three, four, five, six little rabbits. Said Mr. McGregor. Eh? What's that? What have they even spoiling now? Inquired Mrs. McGregor. One, two, three, four, five, six little fat rabbits. Repeated Mr. McGregor counting on his fingers. One, two, three. Don't you be silly. Do you mean you silly old man? In the sack. One, two, three, four, five, six. Replied Mr. McGregor. The youngest Flopsy bunny got upon the window sill. Mrs. McGregor took hold of the sack and felt it. She said she could feel six, but they must be old rabbits, because they were so hard and

1:54:48all different shapes. Not fit to eat, but the skins will do fine to line my old cloak. Line your old cloak, shouted Mr. McGregor. I shall sell them and buy myself backie. Rabbit tobacco? I shall skin them and cut off their heads. Mrs. McGregor untied the sack and put her hand inside. When she felt the vegetables, she became very, very angry. She said that Mr. McGregor had done it a purpose. And Mr. McGregor was very angry, too. One of the rotten marrows came flying through the kitchen window and hit the youngest Flopsy bunny. It was rather hurt. Then Benjamin and Flopsy thought that it was time to go home. So Mr. McGregor did not get his tobacco, and Mrs. McGregor did not get her rabbit skins. But next Christmas, Thomasine a tidal mouse got a present of enough rabbit wool to make

1:55:51herself a cloak and a hood and a handsome moth and a pair of warm mittens. End of chapter 14 This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. The Tale of Mrs. Tiddle Mouse by Beatrix Potter Once upon a time there was a wood mouse and her name was Mrs. Tiddle Mouse. She lived in a bank under a hedge. Such a funny house. There are yards and yards of sandy passages leading to storerooms and nutsellers and seed sellers, all amongst the roots of the hedge. There was a kitchen, a parlour, a pantry, and a larder.

1:56:53Also there is Mrs. Tiddle Mouse's bedroom, where she slept in a little box. Mrs. Tiddle Mouse was a most terribly tidy, particular little mouse, always sweeping and dusting the soft sandy floors. There was a beetle lost its way in the passages. Shoes shoe little dirty feet said Mrs. Tiddle Mouse, clattering her dustpan. And one day a little old woman ran up and down in a red spotty cloak. Your house is on fire, Mother Lady Bird, fly away home to your children. Another day a big fat spider came into shelter from the rain. My pardon, is this not Miss Muppets? Go away you bold bad spider, leaving ends of cobweb all over my nice clean house. She bundled the spider out at a window. He let himself down the hedge with a long thin bit of string.

1:57:54Mrs. Tiddle Mouse went on her way to a distant store room to fetch cherry stones and thistle down seed for supper. How long the passage she sniffed and looked at the floor? I smell a smell of honey. Is it the cow slips outside in the hedge? Am I sure I can see the marks of little dirty feet? Suddenly around the corner she met Babity Bumble. Zizz, biz, biz said the Bumble Bee. Mrs. Tiddle Mouse looked at her severely. She wished she had a broom. Good day Babity Bumble. I should be glad to buy some beeswax, but what are you doing down here? Why do you always come in at the window and say Zizz, biz, biz, biz? Mrs. Tiddle Mouse began to get cross. Zizz, biz, biz replied Babity Bumble in a pee-fish squeak. She cedled down a passage and disappeared into a store room which had been used for aquins.

1:58:57Mrs. Tiddle Mouse had eaten the aquins before Christmas. A store room ought to have been empty. But it was full of untidy dry moss. Mrs. Tiddle Mouse began to pull out the moss, three or four other bees put their heads out and buzzed fiercely. I am not in the habit of letting lodgings. This is an intrusion, said Mrs. Tiddle Mouse. I will have them turned out. Buzz, buzz, buzz. I wonder who would help me? Biz, biz, biz. I will not have Mr. Jackson, he never wipes his feet. Mrs. Tiddle Mouse decided to leave the bees till after dinner. When she got back to the parlour she heard someone coughing in a fat voice. And there sat Mr. Jackson himself. He was sitting all over a small rocking chair, twiddling his thumbs and smiling, with his feet on the fender. He lived in a drain below the hedge, in a very dirty wet ditch. How do you do, Mr. Jackson?

1:59:58During me, you have got very wet. Thank you, thank you, Mrs. Tiddle Mouse. I'll sit a while and dry myself, said Mr. Jackson. He sat and smiled and the water dripped off his coattails. Mrs. Tiddle Mouse went round with a mop. He sat such a while that he had to be asked if he would take some dinner. First she offered him cherry stones. Thank you, thank you, Mrs. Tiddle Mouse. No teeth, no teeth, no teeth, said Mr. Jackson. He opened his mouth most unnecessarily wide. He certainly had not a tooth in his head. Then she offered him thistle down seed. Tiddley, wittily, wittily. Poof, poof, puff of Mr. Jackson. He blew the thistle down all over the room. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mrs. Tiddle Mouse. Now what I really, really should like, would be a little dish of honey. I'm afraid I have not got any, Mr. Jackson, said Mrs. Tiddle Mouse. Tiddley, wittily, wittily.

2:00:59Mrs. Tiddle Mouse said the smiling Mr. Jackson. I can smell it. That is why I came to call. Mr. Jackson rose ponderously from the table and began to look into the cupboards. Mrs. Tiddle Mouse followed him with a dishcloth to wipe his large wet footmarks off the parlor floor. When he had convinced himself there was no honey in the cupboards, he began to walk down the passage. Indeed, indeed, you will stick fast, Mr. Jackson. Tiddley, wittily, wittily. Mrs. Tiddle Mouse. First he squeezed into the pantry. Tiddley, wittily, wittily. No honey? No honey, Mrs. Tiddle Mouse? There were three creepy crawly people hiding in the plate rack. Two of them got away, but the littlest one he caught. Then he squeezed into the larger. This butterfly was tasting the sugar, but she flew away out the window. Tiddley, wittily, wittily. Mrs. Tiddle Mouse, you seem to have plenty of visitors. And without any invitation, said Mrs. Thomascena Tiddle Mouse.

2:02:07They went along the sandy passage. Tiddley, wittily, buzzed, whizz, whizz. He met Babity round to corner and snapped her up and put her down again. I do not like bumblebees. They are all over the bristles, said Mr. Jackson, wiping his mouth with his coat-sleeve. Get out, you nasty old toad, shriek, Babity bumble. I shall go distracted, scold, and Mrs. Tiddle Mouse. She set herself up in the nut-seller while Mr. Jackson pulled out bees' nests. He seemed to have no objection to stings. When Mrs. Tiddle Mouse ventured to come out, everybody had gone away. But the entitoness was something dreadful. Her did I see such a mess, smears of honey and moss and thistle down, and marks of big and little dirty feet all over my nice clean house. She gathered up the moss in the remains of the beeswax, and then she went out and fetched some twigs to partly close up the front door. I will make it too small for Mr. Jackson. She fetched soft soap and flannel and a new scrubbing brush from the storeroom.

2:03:12She was too tired to do any more. She fell asleep in her chair, and then she went to bed. Well, at every beauty-tidy again, said poor Mrs. Tiddle Mouse. Next morning she got up very early and began a spring cleaning, which lasted a fortnight. She swept and scrubbed and dusted. She rubbed up the furniture with beeswax and polished her little tin spoons. When it was all beautifully neat and clean, she gave a party to five other little mice without Mr. Jackson. He smelt the party and came up the bank, but he could not squeeze in at the door. So they handed him out an acorn, cup full of honey due through the window, and he was not at all offended. He sat outside in the sun and said, Tiddley, wittily, wittily, your very good health, Mrs. Tiddle Mouse. The End. The Tale of Mrs. Tiddle Mouse by Beatrix Potter. This is a Libra Vox recording.

2:04:13People Libra Vox recordings are in the public domain. For more information and to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. Recording by Frank Woodward. The Tale of Timmy Tiptoes from the Great Big Treasury of Beatrix Potter by Beatrix Potter, Chapter 16. More many unknown little friends, including Monica. Once upon a time there was a little fat comfortable gray squirrel called Timmy Tiptoes. He had a nest, fatched with leaves in the top of a tall tree, and he had a little squirrel wife called Goody. Timmy Tiptoes sat out enjoying the breeze. He whisked his tail and chuckled, little wife Goody.

2:05:15The nuts are ripe. We must lay up a store for winter and spring. Goody Tiptoes was busy pushing moss under the fatch. The nest is so snug, we shall be sand asleep all winter. Then we shall wake up all the thinner when there is nothing to eat in springtime. Replyed prudent Timothy. When Timmy and Goody Tiptoes came to the nut picket, they found other squirrels were there already. Timmy took off his jacket and hung it on a twig. They worked away quietly by themselves. Every day they made several journeys and picked up quantities of nuts. They carried them away in bags and stored them in several hollow stumps near the tree where they had built their nest. When these stumps were full, they began to empty the bags into a hole, high up a tree, that had belonged to a woodpecker. The nuts rattled down, down, down inside.

2:06:18«Hash, you ever get them out again? It is like a money box» said Goody. «I shall be much thinner before springtime, my love» said Timmy Tiptoes, peeping into the hole. They did collect quantities because they did not lose them. Squirrels who bury their nuts in the ground lose more than half because they cannot remember the place. The most forgetful squirrel in the wood was called silver tail. He began to dig and he could not remember. And then he dug again and found some nuts that did not belong to him and there was a fact. And other squirrels began to dig. The whole wood was in commotion. Unfortunately, just at this time a flock of little birds flew by, from bush to bush, searching for green caterpillars and spires. There were several sorts of little birds, fluttering different songs.

2:07:22The first one sang, «Who's been digging up my nuts? Who's been digging up my nuts?» and another sang, «Little bit of bread and no cheese! A little bit of bread and no cheese». The squirrels followed and listened. The first little bird flew into the bush where Timmy and Goody Tiptoes were quietly tying up their bags and it sang «Who's been digging up my nuts? Who's been digging up my nuts?» Timmy Tiptoes went on with his work without replying. Indeed the little bird did not expect an answer. It was only singing its natural song and it meant nothing at all. But when the other squirrels heard that song they rushed upon Timmy Tiptoes and cuffed him and scratched him and upset his bag of nuts. The innocent little bird, which it caused all the mischief, flew away in a fright. Timmy rolled over and over and then turned tail and fled toward his nest, followed by a crowd of squirrels shouting «Who's been digging up my nuts?»

2:08:26They caught him and they dragged him up the very same tree where there was the little round hole and they pushed him in. The hole was much too small for Timmy Tiptoes' figure. They squeezed him in dreadfully. It was a wonder they didn't break his ribs. «We will leave him here until he confesses», said Silvertail Squirrel, and he shouted into the hole «Who's been digging up my nuts?» Timmy Tiptoes made no reply. He had tumbled down inside the tree upon half a peck of nuts belonging to himself. He lay quite stunned and still. Goody Tiptoes picked up the nutbags and went home. She made a cup of tea for Timmy, but he didn't come and didn't come. Goody Tiptoes passed a lonely and unhappy night. This morning she ventured back to the nut bushes to look for him, but the other unkind squirrels drove her away.

2:09:28She wondered all over the wood, calling «Timmy Tiptoes», Timmy Tiptoes. Oh, where is Timmy Tiptoes? In the meantime Timmy Tiptoes came to his senses. He found himself tucked up in a little moss bed, very much in the dark, feeling sore. It seemed to be underground. Timmy coughed and groaned because his ribs hurt him. There was a chirpy noise, and a small striped chipmunk appeared with a night light, and hoped he felt better. It was most kind to Timmy Tiptoes. It lit him its nightcap, and the house was full of provisions. The chipmunk explained that it had rained nuts through the top of the tree. Besides, I found a few buried. It laughed and chuckled when it heard Timmy's story. While Timmy was confined to bed, it enticed him to eat quantities. But how shall I ever get through that hole unless I thin myself?

2:10:30My wife will be anxious. In just another nut or two nuts, let me crack them for you, said the chipmunk. Timmy Tiptoes grew fatter and fatter. Now Goodie Tiptoes had set to work again by herself. She did not put any more nuts into the woodpecker's hole, because she had always doubted how they could be got out again. She hid them under a tree root. They rattled down, down, down. Once when Goodie emptied an extra big bag full, there was a decided squeak. And the next time Goodie bought another bag full, a little striped chipmunk scrambled out in a hurry. It's getting perfectly full up downstairs. The sitting room is full, and they are rolling along the passage, and my husband, Chippy Hockey, has run away and left me. What is the explanation of these showers of nuts? I'm sure I beg your pardon. I did not know that anybody lived there, said Miss Goodie Tiptoes.

2:11:32But where is Chippy Hockey? My husband Timmy Tiptoes has run away too. I know where Chippy Hockey is. A little bird told me, said Mrs. Chippy Hockey. And she led the way to the woodpecker's tree, and they listened at the hole. Down below there was a noise of nutcrackers, and a fat squirrel voice, and a thin squirrel voice, were singing together. My little old man and I fell out. How shall we bring this matter about? Bring it about as well as you can, and get you gone, your little old man. You could squeeze in through that little round hole, said Goodie Tiptoes. Yes, I could, said the chipmunk. But my husband, Chippy Hockey, bites. Down below there was a noise of cracking nuts and nibbling, and then the fat squirrel voice and the thin squirrel voice sang. For the diddle of the day, day diddle of the day, day diddle of the day.

2:12:34Then Goodie peeped in at the hole and called down Timmy Tiptoes, oh, five Timmy Tiptoes. And Timmy replied, is that you Goodie Tiptoes? Why, certainly. He came up and kissed Goodie through the hole, but he was so fat that he could not get out. Chippy Hockey was not too fat, but he did not want to come. He stayed below and chuckled. And so it went on for a fortnight, till a big wind blew off the top of the tree and opened up the hole and let in the rain. Then Timmy Tiptoes came out and went home with an umbrella. But Chippy Hockey continued to camp out for another week, although it was uncomfortable. At last a large bear came walking through the wood. Perhaps he also was looking for nuts. He seemed to be sniffing around. But Chippy Hockey went home in a hurry. And when Chippy Hockey got home, he found he had caught a cold in his head.

2:13:37And he was more uncomfortable still. And now Timmy and Goodie Tiptoes keep their nut store fastened up with a little padlock. And whenever that little bird sees the chipmunks, he sings, who's been digging up my nuts? Who's been digging up my nuts? But nobody ever answers. And of Chapter 16. This is a Libravox Recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Today's recording by Chris V. The great big treasury of Beatrix Potter. Chapter 17. The Tale of Mr. Todd. For William Francis of Olva. I have made many books about well-behaved people.

2:14:42Now for a change, I'm going to make a story about two disagreeable people called Tommy Brock and Mr. Todd. Nobody could call Mr. Todd nice. The rabbits could not bear him. They could smell him half a mile off. He was of a wandering habit, and he had foxy whiskers. They never knew where he would be next. One day he was living in a stickhouse in the coppice or grove, causing terror to the family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a parlored willow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water rats. In winter and early spring, he might generally be found in an earth amongst the rocks at the top of bullbanks under oatmeal crag.

2:15:46He had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home. The houses were not always empty when Mr. Todd moved out. He sometimes Tommy Brock moved in without asking leave. Tommy Brock was a short, brisly fat, waddling person with a grin. He grinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp nests and frogs and worms, and he waddled about by moonlight, digging things up. His clothes were very dirty, and as he slept in the daytime, he always went to bed in his boots, and the bed which he went to bed in was generally Mr. Todd's. Now Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit pie, but it was only very little young ones occasionally when other food was really scarce.

2:16:50He was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer. They agreed in disliking the wicked otters and Mr. Todd. They often talked over that painful subject. Old Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine outside the burrow in a muffler, smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco. He lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy, who had a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family that afternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out. The little rabbit babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes and kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay in a shallow burrow separated from the main rabbit hole. Even tell the truth, Old Mr. Bouncer had forgotten them.

2:17:51He sat in the sun and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who was passing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he used for digging and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about the scarcity of fesoncegs and accused Mr. Todd of poaching them, and the otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in winter. I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight. I am living on pig nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail," said Tommy Brock. It was not much of a joke, but it tickled Old Mr. Bouncer because Tommy Brock was so fat and stumpy and grinning. So Old Mr. Bouncer laughed and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside to taste the slice of seed cake and a glass of my daughter flopsies cow slip wine. Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole with a laquerity.

2:18:54Then Old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage leaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more than ever and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and laughed and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned and Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed and shut his eyes because of the cabbage smoke. When flopsie and Benjamin came back, Old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock and all the young rabbits had disappeared. Mr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the rabbit hole, but the smell of Badger was undeniable and there were round heavy foot marks in the sand. He was in disgrace. Flopsie rung her ears and slapped him. Benjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.

2:19:57It was not much difficult in tracking him. He had left his foot mark and gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood, where he had rooted up the moss and woodsoural. There he had dug quite a deep hole for dog darn out and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the way, Benjamin skipped lightly over dry foot. The Badger's heavy steps showed plainly in the mud. The path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared. There were leafy oak stumps and a sea of blue hyacinths, but the smell that made Benjamin stop was not the smell of flowers. Mr. Todd's stick house was before him and for once Mr. Todd was at home. There was not only a foxy flavor in proof of it. There was smoke coming out of the broken pail that served as a chimney.

2:21:02Benjamin Bunny sat up staring. His whiskers twitched. Inside the stick house somebody dropped a plate and said something. Benjamin stomped his foot and bolted. He never stopped till he came to the other side of the wood. Apparently Tommy Brock had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall there were again the marks of a Badger and some ravelings of a sack had caught on a briar. Benjamin climbed over the wall into a meadow. He found another mole trap newly set. He was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was getting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself was busily hunting for dandelions. "'Cuzin Peter, Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!' shouted Benjamin Bunny.

2:22:07The blue coated rabbit sat up with prick deers. Whatever is the matter, Cuzin Benjamin. Is it a cat or John Stote ferret? No, no, no. He's bad my family. Tommy Brock in a sack. Have you seen him? Tommy Brock? How many, Cuzin Benjamin? Seven. Cuzin Peter and all of them twins. Did he come this way? Please tell me quick. Yes, yes, not ten minutes since. He said they were caterpillars. I did think they were kicking rather hard for caterpillars. Which way? Which way has he gone, Cuzin Peter? He had a sack with something live in it. I watched him set a maltrap. Let me use my mind, Cuzin Benjamin. Tell me from the beginning. Benjamin did so. My uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his years, said Peter

2:23:09reflectively. But there are two hopeful circumstances. Your family is alive and kicking, and Tommy Brock has had refreshments. He will probably go to sleep and keep them for breakfast. Which way? Cuzin Benjamin compose yourself. I know very well which way. Because Mr. Todd was at home in the stick house, he has gone to Mr. Todd's other house at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know because he offered to leave any message at sister cottontails. He said he would be impassing. Cottontail had married a black rabbit and gone to live on the hill. Peter hid his dandelions and accompanied the afflicted parent who is all of a whiter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the hill. The tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to be seen.

2:24:10He seemed to have put down the sack every dozen yards to rest. He must be very puffed. We are close behind him by the scent. What a nasty person, said Peter. The sunshine was still warm and slanting on the hill pastures. Halfway up cottontail was sitting in her doorway with four or five half grown little rabbits playing about her. One black and the others brown. Cottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance, asked whether her husband was at home. She replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice while she watched him. He had nodded and pointed to the sack and seemed doubled up with laughing. Come away, Peter. He will be cooking them. Come quicker, said Benjamin Bunny. They climbed up and up. He was at home. I saw his black ears peeping out of the hole.

2:25:13They lived too near the rocks to quarrel with their neighbors. Come on, cousin Benjamin. When they came near the wood at the top of bull banks, they went cautiously. The trees grew amongst teaped up rocks and there beneath the crag Mr. Todd had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep bank. The rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully, listening and peeping. The house was something between a cave, a prison and a tumble-down pigsty. There was a strong door which was shut and locked. The setting sun made the window-pains glow like red flame, but the kitchen fire was not a light. It was neatly laid with dry sticks as the rabbits could see when they peep through the window.

2:26:14Benjamin sighed with relief, but there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him shudder. There was an immense, empty pietish of blue willow pattern, and a large carving knife and fork and a chopper. At the other end of the table was a partly unfolded tablecloth, a plate, a tumbler, a knife and fork. Salt cellar mustered and a chair. In short, preparations for one person's supper. No person was to be seen and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty and silent, the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their noses against the window and stared into the dusk. Then they scrambled around the rocks to the other side of the house.

2:27:15It was damp and smelly and overgrown with thorns and briars. The rabbits shivered in their shoes. Oh my poor, rapid babies! What a dreadful place! I shall never see them again!" Side Benjamin. They crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the kitchen, but there were signs that the window had been recently opened. The cobwebs were disturbed and there were fresh, dirty footmarks upon the window sill. The room inside was so dark that at first they could make out nothing, but they could hear a noise. A slow, deep, regular, snoring grunt. And as their eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that somebody was asleep on Mr. Todd's bed curled up under the blanket.

2:28:21He has gone to bed in his boots, whispered Peter. Benjamin, who is all of a whiter, pulled Peter off the window sill. Tommy Brock's snores continued grunty and regular from Mr. Todd's bed. One could be seen of the young family. The sun had set and Owl began to hoot in the wood. There were many unpleasant things lying about that had much better have been buried. Rabbit bones and skulls and chicken legs and other horrors. It was a shocking place and very dark. They went back to the front of the house and tried in every way to move the bolt of the kitchen window. They tried to push up a rusty nail between the window sashes, but it was of no use, especially

2:29:28without light. They sat side by side outside the window, whispering and listening. In half an hour the moon rose over the wood. It shone full and clear and cold upon the house, amongst the rocks and in at the kitchen window. But alas, no little rabbit babies were to be seen. The moon beans twinkled on the carving knife and the pide-ish and made a path of brightness across the dirty floor. A light showed a little door in a wall beside the kitchen fireplace. A little iron door belonging to a brick oven of that old fashioned sort that used to be heated with faggots of wood. And presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that whenever they shook

2:30:31the window, the little door opposite shook in answer. The young family were alive, shut up in the oven. Benjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy Brock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Todd's bed. But there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could not open the window and although the young family was alive, the little rabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out. They were not old enough to crawl. After much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They began to borrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped they might be able to work between the large stones under the house. The kitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was made of earth or flags.

2:31:40They dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of stones. But by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor. Benjamin was on his back scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn down. He was outside the tunnel shuffling sand away. He called out that it was morning, sunrise, and that the jays were making a noise down below in the woods. Benjamin bunny came out of the dark tunnel shaking the sand from his ears. He cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone warmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white mist with golden tops of trees showing through. Again from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of a jay followed

2:32:45by the sharp, yelping bark of a fox. Then those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most foolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short new tunnel and hid themselves at the top end of it under Mr. Todd's kitchen floor. Mr. Todd was coming up all banks and he was in the very worst of tempers. First he had been upset by breaking the plate. It was his own fault but it was a china plate, the last of the dinner service that had been longed to his grandmother, old fixin Todd. Then the midges had been very bad and he had failed to catch a hen fessant on her nest and it had contained only five eggs, two of them adult.

2:33:47Mr. Todd had had an unsatisfactory night. As usual went out of humor he determined to move house. First he tried the Pollard Willow but it was damp and the otters had left the dead fish near it. Mr. Todd likes nobody's leaving but his own. He made his way up the hill. His temper was not improved by noticing unmistakable marks of a badger. No one else grubs up the moss so wantonly as Tommy Brock. Mr. Todd slapped his stick upon the earth and fumed. He guessed where Tommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jaybird which followed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded, warning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat

2:34:50or fox was coming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head Mr. Todd snapped at it and barked. He approached his house very carefully with a large rusty key he sniffed and his whiskers brisselt. The house was locked up but Mr. Todd had his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the lock and the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Todd opened the door cautiously and went in. The sight that met Mr. Todd's eyes in Mr. Todd's kitchen made Mr. Todd furious. There was Mr. Todd's chair and Mr. Todd's pide-ish and his knife and fork and mustard and salt-seller and his table-clock that he had left folded up in the dresser.

2:35:53All out for supper or breakfast without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock. There was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger which fortunately overpowered all smell of rabbit. But what absorbed Mr. Todd's attention was a noise, a deep, slow, regular snoring, grunting noise coming from his own bed. He peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door then he turned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers brisseled and his coat-collar stood on end with rage. For the next 20 minutes Mr. Todd kept creeping cautiously into the house and retreating hardly out again.

2:36:55Todd agrees he ventured further in right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house he scratched up the earth with fury, but when he was inside he did not like the look of Tommy Brock's teeth. He was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear. He snored peacefully and regularly, but one eye was not perfectly shut. Mr. Todd came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his walking stick and once he brought in the cold scuttle. But he thought better of it and took them away. When he came back after removing the cold scuttle Tommy Brock was lying a little more sideways, but he seems even sounders asleep. He was an incurably indolent person.

2:37:57He was not in the least afraid of Mr. Todd. He was simply too lazy and comfortable to move. Mr. Todd came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothesline. He stood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listened attentively to the snores. They were very loud indeed but seemed quite natural. Mr. Todd turned his back towards the bed and undid the window. It creaked. He turned around with a jump. Tommy Brock who had opened one eye, shut it hastily. The snores continued. Mr. Todd's proceedings were peculiar and rather difficult because the bed was between the window and the door of the bedroom. He opened the window a little way and pushed out the greater part of the clothesline onto

2:39:01the window sill. The rest of the line with a hook at the end remained in his hand. Tommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Todd stood and looked at him for a minute. Then he left the room again. Tommy Brock opened both eyes and looked at the rope and grinned. There was a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry. Mr. Todd had gone out at the front door and ran to the back of the house. On the way he stumbled over the rabbit barrow. If he had had any idea who was inside it, you would have pulled them out quickly. His foot went through the tunnel, nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and Benjamin. But fortunately, he thought that it was some more of Tommy Brock's work.

2:40:04He looked upon the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment and then tied the rope to a tree. Tommy Brock watched him with one eye through the window. He was puzzled. Mr. Todd fetched a large heavy pale full of water from the spring and staggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom. Tommy Brock snored industriously with rather a snort. Mr. Todd put down the pale beside the bed, took up the end of the rope with the hook, hesitated and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost a poppilectic, but the grin was not quite so big. Mr. Todd gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead, his legs were dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.

2:41:07He reached up and put the end of the rope with the hook over the head of the tester bed, where the curtains ought to hang. Mr. Todd's curtains were folded up and put away, owing to the house being unoccupied. So was the counter pain. Tommy Brock was covered with a blanket only. Mr. Todd standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon him attentively. He really was a first prize sound sleeper. It seemed as though nothing would wake in him, not even the flapping rope across the bed. Mr. Todd descended safely from the chair and endeavored to get up again with the pale of water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling over the head of Tommy Brock in order to make a sort of shower bath, worked by a string through the window.

2:42:07But naturally, being a thin, legged person, though vindictive and sandy whiskered, he was quite unable to lift the heavy weight to the level of the hook and rope. He very nearly overbalanced himself. The snores became more and more a poplactic, one of Tommy Brock's hind legs twitched under the blanket. But he still slipped on peacefully. Mr. Todd and the pale descended from the chair without accident. After considerable thought, he emptied the water into a wash basin and jug. The empty pale was not too heavy for him. He slung it up, wobbling over the head of Tommy Brock. Surely there never was such a sleeper. Mr. Todd got up and down, down and up on the chair.

2:43:08As he could not lift the whole pale full of water at once, he fetched a milk jug and ladled quartz of water into the pale by degrees. The pale got fuller and fuller and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop splashed over, but still Tommy Brock stored regularly and never moved. Except in one eye. At last Mr. Todd's preparations were complete. The pale was full of water. The rope was tightly strained over the top of the bed and across the windowsill to the tree outside. It will make a great mess in my bedroom, but I could never sleep in that bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort, said Mr. Todd. Mr. Todd took a last look at the banger and softly left the room.

2:44:11He went out of the house shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his footsteps over the tunnel. He ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to let fall, the pale full of water upon Tommy Brock. I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise, said Mr. Todd. The moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry. He rolled Mr. Todd's dressing gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pale of water instead of himself and left the room also, grinning immensely. He went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle. For the moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits. When Mr. Todd got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had dragged the knot so tight.

2:45:11It was passed on tying. He was obliged to nod with his teeth. He chewed a nod for more than 20 minutes. That last the rope gave way with a sudden jerk that in nearly pulled his teeth out and quite knocked him over backwards. Inside the house there was a great crash and splash and the noise of a pale rolling over and over. But no screams. Mr. Todd was mystified. He sat quite still and listened attentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping from the bed. The pale had rolled into a corner. In the middle of the bed under the blanket was a wet something much flattened in the middle where the pale had caught it as it were across the tummy.

2:46:13His head was covered by the wet blanket and it was not snoring any longer. There was nothing stirring. No sound except the drip, drop, drop, drip of water trickling from the mattress. Mr. Todd watched it for half an hour. His eyes glistened. Then he cut a caper and became so bold that he even tapped at the window but the bundle never moved. Yes, there was no doubt about it. It had turned out even better than he had planned. The pale had hit poor old Tommy Brock and killed him dead. I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he has dug. I will bring my bedding out and dry it in the sun.

2:47:15Said Mr. Todd. I will wash the tablecloth and spread it on the grass in the sun to bleach and the blanket must be hung up in the wind and the bed must be thoroughly disinfected and aired with a warming pan and warmed with a hot water bottle. I will get soft soap and monkey soap and all sorts of soap and soda and scrubbing brushes and Persian powder and carbolic to remove the smell. I must have a disinfecting. Perhaps I may have to burn sulfur. He hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen. First I will arrange the hole then I will drag out that person in the blanket. He opened the door. Tommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Todd's kitchen table pouring out tea from Mr. Todd's teapot into Mr. Todd's cup.

2:48:15He was quite dry himself and grinning and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Todd. Then Mr. Todd rushed upon Tommy Brock and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr. Todd against the broken crockery. There was a terrific battle all over the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor would give way at each crash of falling furniture. They crept out of their tunnel and hung about amongst the rocks and bushes listening anxiously. In sign the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit bunnies and the oven woke up trembling. Perhaps it was fortunate they were shot up inside. Everything was upset except the kitchen table and everything was broken except the mantle piece and the kitchen fender.

2:49:17The crockery was smashed to atoms. The chairs were broken and the window and the clock fell with a crash. There were handfuls of Mr. Todd's sandy whiskers. The vases fell off the mantle piece, the canisters fell off the shelf, the kettle fell off the hub. Tommy Brock put his foot in a jar of raspberry jam and the boiling water out of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Todd. In the kettle fell Tommy Brock was still grinning happened to be upermost and he rolled Mr. Todd over and over like a log out at the door. Then the snarling and worrying went on outside and they rolled over the bank and down hill, bumping over the rocks. There will never be any love lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Todd.

2:50:24As soon as the coast was clear Peter, Rabbit and Benjamin bunny came out of the bushes. Now for it, running cousin Benjamin, running and getting them while I watched the door. But Benjamin was frightened. Oh no, they are coming back! No they are not. Yes they are. What dreadful bad language, I think they have fallen down the stone quarry. Still Benjamin hesitated and Peter kept pushing him in. Be quick it's alright, shut the oven door cousin Benjamin so that he won't miss them. Decidedly they were lively doings in Mr. Todd's kitchen. At home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable. After quarreling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed the sleepless night and quarreled again at breakfast.

2:51:26Old Mr. Bouncer could no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole. But a refuse to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The day passed heavily. Old Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded with a chair. Flopsy had taken away his pipe and hid in the tobacco. She had been having a complete turnout in spring cleaning to relieve her feelings. She had just finished. Old Mr. Bouncer behind his chair was wandering anxiously what she would do next. When Mr. Todd's kitchen unmisted the wreckage, Benjamin money picked his way to the oven nervously through a thick cloud of dust. He opened the oven door, felt inside and found something warm and wriggling.

2:52:27He lifted it out carefully and rejoined Peter Rabbit. I've got them, can we get away? Shall we hide cousin Peter? After a practice years, distant sounds of fighting still echoed in the wood. Five minutes afterwards, two breathless rabbits came scuttering away from bowl-banks, half-carrying, half-drying a sack between them, bumpety-bump over the grass. They reached home safely and burst into the rabbit hole. Great was old Mr. Bouncer's relief and Flopsy's joy when Peter and Benjamin arrived in triumph with the young family. The rabbit babies were rather tumbled and very hungry. They were fed and put to bed. They soon recovered. A new long pipe and a fresh supply of rabbit tobacco was presented to Mr. Bouncer. He was rather upon his dignity, but he accepted.

2:53:29Old Mr. Bouncer was forgiven and they all had dinner. And Peter and Benjamin told their story, but they had not waited long enough to be able to tell the end of the battle between Tommy Brock and Mr. Todd. End of chapter 17 Chapter 18 The tale of Piggling Blend

2:54:31Once upon a time there was an old pig called on Petty Toes. She had eight of a family, four little girl pigs called Crosspatch, Sucksuck, Yockyock and Spot, and four little boy pigs called Alexander, Piggling Blend, Chin Chin and Stumpy. Stumpy had had an accident to his tail. The eight little pigs had very fine appetites. Yes, yes, yes. They eat and indeed they do eat, said on Petty Toes, looking at her family with pride. Suddenly there were fearful squeals. Alexander had squeezed inside the hoops of the pig-trow and stuck. On Petty Toes an eye dragged him out by the hind legs. Chin Chin was already in disgrace. He was washing day and he had eaten a piece of soap. And presently in a basket of clean clothes we found another dirty little pig.

2:55:34Shit, tatt, tatt, whichever is this. Grunted on Petty Toes. Now all the pig-family are pink, or pink with black spots. But this little pig-child was smuddy black all over. When they had been popped into a tub, it proved to be Yock-Yock. I went into the garden. There I found cross-patch and suck-suck, rooting up carrots. I whipped them myself and let them out by the years. Cross-patch tried to bite me. On Petty Toes on Petty Toes. You are a worthy person, but your family is not well brought up. Every one of them has been in mischief except spot and pigling blend. Yes, yes, side on Petty Toes. And they drink bucket-fulls of milk. I shall have to get another cow. Good little spot shall stay at home to do the housework, but the others must go.

2:56:35Four little boy pigs and four little girl pigs are too many altogether. Yes, yes, yes, said on Petty Toes. There will be more to eat without them. So chin, chin, and suck-suck went away in a wheelbarrow, and stumpy, yock-yock and cross-patch rode away in a cart. On the other two little boy pigs, pigling blend and Alexander, went to market. We brushed their coats, we curled their tails and washed their little faces, and wished them goodbye in the yard. On Petty Toes wiped her eyes with a large pocket hankerchief. Then she wiped pigling blend's nose and shed tears. Then she wiped Alexander's nose and shed tears. Then she passed a hankerchief to spot. On Petty Toes side and grunted, and addressed those little pigs as follows.

2:57:35Now, pigling blend, sun-pigling blend. You must go to market. Take your brother Alexander by the hand. Mine your Sunday clothes, and remember to blow your nose. On Petty Toes passed round the hankerchief again. Beware of traps, hen-roos, bacon and eggs, always walk upon your hind legs. Pigling blend, who was a sedate little pig, looked solemnly at his mother, a tear trickled down his cheek. On Petty Toes turned to the other. Now, sun Alexander, take the hand. We we we, giggled Alexander. Take the hand if your brother pigling blend. You must go to the market. Mine we we we we, interrupted Alexander again. You put me out, said on Petty Toes.

2:58:35Observe sign posts and milestones. Do not gobble herring bones. And remember, said I impressively, if you once crossed the county boundary, you cannot come back. Alexander, you are not attending. Here are two licenses permitting two pigs to go to market and link a shire. Attend Alexander. I have had no end of trouble in getting these papers from the policemen. Pigling blend, listen gravely. Alexander was hopelessly volatile. I pinned the papers for safety inside their waistcoat pockets. On Petty Toes gave to each a little bundle, an eight conversation peppermints with appropriate moral sentiments and screws of paper. Then they started. Pigling blend and Alexander trotted along steadily for a mile. At least pigling blended.

2:59:36Alexander made the road half as long again by skipping from side to side. He danced about and pinched his brother, singing. This pig went to the market. This pig stayed at home. This pig had a bit of meat. Let's see what they have given us for dinner, Pigling. Pigling blend and Alexander sat down and untied their bundles. Alexander gobbled up his dinner in no time. He had already eaten all his own peppermints. Gives me one of yours, please, Pigling. But I wished to preserve them for emergencies, said Pigling blend doubtfully. Alexander went into squeals of laughter. Then he pricked, pigling with a pin that had fastened his pig paper. And when Pigling slapped him, he dropped the pin and tried to take Pigling's pin. Then the papers got mixed up. Pigling blend reproved Alexander.

3:00:37But presently they made it up again and trotted away together, singing. Tom, Tom, the Piper's son stole the pig in a way he ran, but all the tune that he could play was over the hills and far away. What's that, young sirs? Stole a pig? Where are your licenses, said the policeman? They had nearly run against him around a corner. Pigling blend pulled out his paper. Alexander, after fumbling, handed over something scrumply. Two to and a half ounce conversation sweeties at three farthings. What's this? It's seen a license. Alexander's nose linked invisibly. He had lost it. I had one. Indeed I had Mr. Policeman. It's not likely they let you start without. I am passing the farm. You may walk with me.

3:01:37Can I come back to? Inquired Pigling blend. I see no reason, young sir. Your paper is all right. Pigling blend did not like going on alone, and it was beginning to rain. But it is unwise to argue with the police. He gave his brother a peppermint and watched him out of sight. To conclude the adventures of Alexander, the policeman sonnered up to the house about tea time, followed by a damn subdued little pig. I disposed of Alexander in the neighborhood. He did fairly well when he had settled down. Pigling blend went on alone dejectedly. He came to Crossroads and a signpost to Marketown, five miles. Over the hills, four miles. To Petito's farm, three miles. Pigling blend was shocked.

3:02:38There was little hope of sleeping in Marketown, and tomorrow was the hiring fair. It was deplorable to think how much time had been wasted by the frivolity of Alexander. He glanced wistfully along the road towards the hills, and then set off, walking obediently the other way, butting up his coat against the rain. He had never wanted to go, and the idea of standing all by himself in a crowded market, to be stared at, pushed and hired by some big, strange farmer, was very disagreeable. I wish I could have a little garden, and grow potatoes, said Pigling blend. He put his cold hand in his pocket, and felt his paper. He put his other hand in his other pocket, and felt another paper. Alexander's, Pigling's squealed, then ran back frantically, hoping to overtake Alexander

3:03:42in the policeman. He took a wrong turn, several wrong turns, and was quite lost. It grew dark, the wind whistled, the trees creaked and groaned. Pigling blend became frightened and cried, Wee wee wee, I can't find my way home. After an hour's wandering, he got out of the wood. The moon shone through the clouds, and Pigling blend saw a country that was new to him. The road crossed a more, below was a wide valley, with a river twinkling in the moonlight, and beyond, in misty distance, lay the hills. He saw a small wooden hut, made his way to it, and crept inside. I am afraid it is a henhouse, but what can I do?

3:04:44Said Pigling blend, wet and cold, and quite tired out. Baking an egg, baking an egg, clucked a hen on a perch. Trap, trap, trap, cackle, cackle, cackle. Scoulded the disturbed cockerel. To market, to market. Chickety-tig. Clucked a broody white hen roosting next to him. Pigling blend, much alarmed, determined to leave it daybreak. In the meantime, he in the hens fell asleep. In less than an hour, they were all awakened. The owner, Mr. Peter Thomas Piperson, came with a lantern, and a hamper, to catch six fowls to take to market in the morning. He grabbed the white hen roosting next to the cock. Then his eye fell upon Pigling blend, squeezed up in a corner. He made a singular remark.

3:05:44Hello? Here's another. Seize Pigling by the scruff of the neck, and dropped him into the hamper. Then he dropped in five more dirty, kicking, cackling hens, upon the top of Pigling blend. The hamper, containing six fowls and a young pig, was no light weight. It was taken downhill, unsteadily, with jerks. Pigling, although nearly scratched pieces, contrived to hide the papers and peppermints inside his clothes. At last, the hamper was bumped down upon a kitchen floor. The lid was opened, and Pigling was lifted out. He looked up, blinking, and saw an offensively ugly, elderly man, grinning from mere to ear. This one's come of himself, whatever, said Mr. Piperson, turning Pigling's pockets inside out.

3:06:46He pushed the hamper into a corner, threw a sack over it to keep the hens quiet, put a pot on the fire, and unlaced his boots. Pigling blend, drew forward a copy stool, and sat on the edge of it, shily warming his hands. Mr. Piperson pulled off a boot, and threw it against the wane-scot at the further end of the kitchen. There was a smothered noise. Shat up, said Mr. Piperson. Pigling blend, warmed his hands, and eyed him. Mr. Piperson pulled off the other boot, and flung it after the first. There was again a curious noise. Be quiet, will ye, said Mr. Piperson. Pigling blend sat on the very edge of the copy stool. Mr. Piperson fetched meal from a chest, and made porridge. It seemed a pigling that something at the further end of the kitchen was taking a suppressed

3:07:47interest in the cooking, but he was too hungry to be troubled by noises. Mr. Piperson poured out three plate-fills, for himself, for pigling, and a third, after glaring at pigling. He put away with much scuffling, and locked up. Pigling blend eyed his supper discreetly. After supper, Mr. Piperson consulted an almond-ac, and felt pigling's ribs. He was too late in the season for curing bacon, and he grudged his meal. Besides, the hands had seen this pig. He looked at the small remains of a flitch, side of bacon, and then looked undecidedly at pigling. He may sleep on the rug, said Mr. Peter Thomas Piperson. Pigling blend slept like a top.

3:08:49In the morning Mr. Piperson made more porridge. The weather was warmer. He looked how much meal was left in the chest, and seemed dissatisfied. "'You'll likely be moving on again,' said he to pigling blend. Before pigling could reply, a neighbor who was giving Mr. Piperson in the hands a lift, distilled from the gate. Mr. Piperson hurried out with the hamper, in joining pigling to shut the door behind him, and not meddle with not. "'Or I'll come back and skinny,' said Mr. Piperson. It crossed pigling's mind that, if he had asked for a lift too, he might still have been in time for market, but he distressed Peter Thomas. Peter finishing breakfast at his leisure. Pigling had a look round the cottage.

3:09:50Everything was locked up. He found some potato peelings in a bucket in the back kitchen. Pigling ate the peel, and washed up the porridge plates in the bucket. He sang while he worked. Tom with his pipe made such a noise. He called up by the girls and boys, and they all ran to hear him play over the hills and far away. Suddenly, a little smothered voice chimed in. "'Over the hills at a great way off the wind shall blow my top not off!' Pigling bland put down a plate, but she was wiping and listened. After a long pause, pigling went on tiptoe and peep round the door into the front kitchen. There was nobody there. After another pause, pigling approached the door of the lock covered and snuffed at the keyhole. It was quite quiet.

3:10:50After another long pause, pigling pushed a peppermint under the door. It was sucked in immediately. In the course of the day, pigling pushed in all his remaining six peppermints. When Mr. Piperson returned, he found piglings sitting before the fire. He had brushed up the hearth and put on the pot to boil. The meal was not to get it able. Mr. Piperson was very affable. He slapped pigling on the back, made lots of porridge, and forgot to lock the meal chest. He did lock the cover door, but without properly shutting it. He went to bed early and told pigling upon no account to disturb him next day before 12 o'clock. Pigling bland sat by the fire, eating his supper. All at once, at his elbow, a little voice spoke.

3:11:52My name is Pickwick. Make me more porridge, please. Pigling bland jumped and looked round. A perfectly lovely little black brook-shire pig stood smiling beside him. She had twinkly little screwed up eyes, a double chin, and a short turned up nose. She pointed at pigling's plate. He hastily gave it to her, and fled to the meal chest. How did you come here, as pigling bland? Stolen. Replied pigwig with her mouth full. Pigling helped himself to meal without scruple. What for? Bacon. Hams. Replied pigwigs, cheerfully. Why on earth don't you run away? Explain the horrified pigling. A shower after supper.

3:12:54Said pigwig decidedly. Pigling bland made more porridge and watched her shyly. She finished a second plate, got up and looked about her, as though she were going to start. You can't go in the dark, said pigling bland. Pigwig looked anxious. Do you know your way by daylight? I know we can see this little white house from the hills across the river. Which way are you going, Mr. Pig? To mark it, I have two pigpapers. I might take you to the bridge if you have no objection, said pigling, much confused and sitting on the edge of his copy stool. Pigwigs gratitude was such, and she asked so many questions that it became embarrassing to pigling bland. He was obliged to shut his eyes and pretend to sleep.

3:13:57She became quiet, and there was a smell of peppermint. I thought you would eat in them, said pigling, waking suddenly. Only the corners replied pigwig, studying the sentiments with much interest by the fire light. I wish you wouldn't. He might smell them through the ceiling, said the alarm pigling. Pigwig put back the sticky peppermints into her pocket. Seeing something, she demanded. I am sorry. I have a toothache, said pigling, much dismayed. Then I will sing, replied pigwig. You will not mind if I say itty to ditty. I have forgotten some of the words. Seeing bland made no objection. He sat with his eyes half shut and watched her. She wagged her head and rocked about, clapping time and singing in a sweet little grunty voice.

3:15:04A funny old mother pig lived in a style in three little piggies had she titty-ditty-ditty a ditty. And the little piggy said, we we we. She sang successfully through three or four verses, only at every verse her head nodded a little lower and her little twinkly eyes closed up. Those three little piggies grew piggy and lean and lean, they might very well be. For some how they couldn't say, and they wouldn't say, we we we. For some how they couldn't say. Pigwigs head bob lower and lower until she rolled over, a little round ball, fast asleep on the hearth rug. Pigling bland, on tiptoe, covered her up with an animocaster.

3:16:08She was afraid to go to sleep himself. For the rest of the night he sat listening to the chirping of the crickets and to the snores of Mr. Piperson overhead. Early in the morning between dark and daylight, pigling tied up his little bundle and woke up pigwig. She was excited and half frightened. But it's dark. How can we find our way? The cock is crowed, we must start before the hens come out. They might shout to Mr. Piperson. Pigwigs sat down again and commenced to cry. Come away pigwig, we can see when we get used to it, come, I can hear them clocking. Pigling had never said shut to a hen in his life, being peaceable. Also, he remembered the hamper.

3:17:09He opened the house door quietly and shut it after them. There was no garden. The neighborhood of Mr. Piperson's was all scratched up by fouls. They slipped away, hand in hand across an untinied field to the road. Tom, Tom, the Piperson stole a pig in a way he ran, but all the tune that he could play was over the hills and far away. Come pigwig, we must get to the bridge before folks are stirring. Why do you want to go to the market, pigling? Inquired pigwig. The sun rose while they were crossing the moor, a dazzling of light over the tops of the hills. The sun shined, crept down the slopes into the peaceful green valleys. More little white cottages nestled in gardens and orchards. That's Westmoreland, said pigwig.

3:18:09She dropped piglings' hand and commenced to dance, singing, presently. I don't want, I want to grow potatoes. Have a peppermint, said pigwig. Pigwig blan refused quite crossly. Does your poor toothy her? Inquired pigwig. Pigling blan grunted. Pigwig ate the peppermint herself and followed the opposite side of the road. Pigwig, keep under the wall. There's a man plowing. Pigwig crossed over. They hurried down the hill toward the county boundary. Suddenly, pigling stopped. He heard wheels. Slowly, jogging up the road below them, came a tradesman's cart. The reins flapped on the horse's back.

3:19:10The grocer was reading a newspaper. Take that peppermint out of your mouth, pigwig. We may have to run. Don't say one word, leave it to me. An inside of the bridge, said poor pigling, nearly crying. He began to walk frightfully lame, holding pigwigs' arm. The grocer, intent upon his newspaper, might have passed them if his horse had not shied and snorted. He pulled the cart crossways and held down his whip. Hello, where are you going to? Pigling blends stared at him vacantly. Are you deaf? Are you going to market? Pigling nodded slowly. I thought as much. It was yesterday. Show me your license. Pigling stared at the off-hine shoe of the grocer's horse, which had picked up a stone.

3:20:10The grocer flicked his whip. Papers? Pig license? Pigling fumbled in all his pockets and handed up the papers. The grocer read them, but still seemed dissatisfied. This year Pig is a young lady. Is her name Alexander? Pigwig opened her mouth and shut it again, pigling coughed asthmatically. The grocer ran his spinker down the advertisement column of his newspaper. Lost? Stolen? Or strayed? Ten S. Reward. He looks suspiciously at Pigwig. Then he stood up in the trap and whistled for the plowman. You wait here, while I drive on and speak to him, said the grocer, gathering up the reins. He knew that pigs are slippery, but surely such a very lame pig could never run.

3:21:14Not yet Pigwig. He will look back. The grocer did so. He saw the two pigs, stalked still in the middle of the road. Then he looked over at his horse's heels. It was lame also. The stone took some time to knock out, after he got to the plowman. Now Pigwig now, said Pigling bland. Never did any pigs run as these pigs ran. They raced and squealed and pelted down the long white hill towards the bridge. Little fat Pigwigs pedicotes fluttered, and her feet went pitter-patter-pitter as she bounded and jumped. They ran and they ran and they ran down the hill and across a shortcut on level green turf at the bottom. They came pebble beds and rushes. They came to the river. They came to the bridge. They crossed at hand and hand. Then over the hills and far away she danced with Pigling bland.

3:22:19End of the tale of Pigling bland. Recorded by Marlodean. March 6, 2006. Piscid West. Prince Edward Island. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information and to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Ginger and Pickles by Beatrix Potter. Dedicated with very kind regards to old Mr. John Taylor, who thinks he might pass as a door-mouse, three years in bed and never a grumble. Once upon a time there was a village shop, the name over the window was Ginger and Pickles. It was a little small shop, just the right size for dolls.

3:23:23Lucinda and Jane doll cook, always bought their groceries at Ginger and Pickles. The counter inside was a convenient hide for rabbits. Ginger and Pickles sold red spotty pocket-hanker chiefs at a penny-three far things. They also sold sugar and snuff and galoshes. In fact, although it was such a small shop, it sold nearly everything, except a few things that you want in a hurry, like bootlaces, hairpins and mutton chops. Ginger and Pickles were the people who kept the shop. Ginger was a yellow tomcat and Pickles was a terrier. The rabbits were always a little bit afraid of Pickles. The shop was also patronised by mice. Only the mice were rather afraid of Ginger. Ginger usually requested Pickles to serve them, because he said it made his mouth water. ''I cannot bear,' said he.

3:24:26To see them going out at the door carrying their little parcels. ''I have the same feeling about rats,'' replied Pickles. But it would never do to eat our customers. They would leave us and go to Tabitha Twitchets. ''On the contrary?'' They would go nowhere, reply Ginger Gloomily. Tabitha Twitchets kept the only other shop in the village. She did not give credit. ''But there is no money in what is called the tell.'' Ginger and Pickles gave unlimited credit. Now the meaning of credit is this. When a customer buys a bar of soap, instead of the customer pulling out a person paying for it, she says she will pay another time. And Pickles makes a low bow and says, ''With pleasure madam, and it is written down in a book.'' The customers come again and again, and buy quantities in spite of being afraid of Ginger

3:25:29and Pickles. The customers came and crowds every day and bought quantities, especially the Toffee customers, but there was always no money. They never paid for as much as a penny worth of peppermints. But the sales were enormous, ten times as large as Tabitha Twitchets. And there was always no money. Ginger and Pickles were obliged to eat their own goods. Pickles ate biscuits, and Ginger ate a dried haddock. They ate them by candlelight, after the shop was closed. ''It is very uncomfortable. I am afraid I shall be summoned. I have tried in vain to get a license upon credit at the post office.'' Said Pickles. ''The place is full of policemen. I met one as I was coming home.'' They just send in the bill again to Samuel Whiskler's Ginger.

3:26:29He owes twenty-two and lined for bacon. ''I do not believe that he intends to pay at all.'' replied Ginger. When it came to January 1st, there was still no money, and Pickles was unable to buy a dog license. ''It is very unpleasant. I am afraid of the police,' said Pickles. ''It is your own fault for being a terrier. I do not require a license, and neither does Kip the collie dog. And I feel sure that Anna Maria pockets things.'' ''Where are all the cream crackers?'' ''You have eaten them yourself.'' replied Ginger. Ginger and Pickles retired into the back parlor. They did accounts. They added up sums and sums and sums. Samuel Whiskler has run up a bill as long as his tail. He has had an ounce and three quarters of slough since October.

3:27:33What is seven pounds of butter at one and three? And a stick of ceiling wax and four matches? Send in all the bills again to everybody, with compliments, replied Ginger. After a time they heard a noise in the shop, as if something had been pushed in at the door. They came out of the back parlor. There was an envelope lying on the counter, and a policeman writing in an notebook. Pickles nearly had a fit. He barked and he barked and made little rushes. ''Wide him Pickles. Wide him.'' splattered Ginger behind a sugar barrel. ''He's only a German doll.'' The policeman went on writing in his notebook. Twice he put his pencil in his mouth, and once he dipped it in the treacle. Pickles barked till he was horse, but still the policeman took no notice. He had beat eyes, and his helmet was so done with stitches.

3:28:34At length, on his last little rush, Pickles found that the shop was empty. The policeman had disappeared. But the envelope remained. ''Do you think that he has gone to fetch a real live policeman?'' ''I'm afraid it is a summoned, said Pickles.'' ''No.'' replied Ginger, who had opened the envelope. ''It is the rates in taxes.'' Three pounds nineteen eleven and three quarters. Pounds are British money. The nineteen is shillings, and then paints. ''This is the last straw,' said Pickles. ''Let us close the shop.'' They put up the shatters and left, but they have not removed from the neighbourhood. In fact, some people wish they had gone further. ''Ginger is living in the Warren.'' ''Gain preserve for rabbits.''

3:29:36''I do not know what occupation he pursues.'' ''He looks stout and comfortable.'' Pickles is at present a gamekeeper. After a time Mr. John Dormouse and his daughter began to sell peppermints and candles. But they did not keep self-fitting sixes, and it takes five mice to carry one seven-inch candle. The closing of the shop caused great inconvenience. Tabitha twitched immediately raised the price of everything a half penny, and she continued to refuse to give credit. Of course, there are the tradesmen's cards, the butcher, the fisherman and Timothy Baker. But a person cannot live on seedwigs and sponge cake and butter buns, not even when the sponge cake is as good as Timothy's. And Mr. Dormouse refused to take back the ends when they were brought back to her with complaints.

3:30:39And when Mr. John Dormouse was complained to, he stayed in bed, and would say nothing but very snug, which is not the way to carry on a retail business. Besides, the candles which they sell behave very strangely in warm weather. So everybody was pleased when Sally Henney Penny sent out a printed poster to say that she was going to reopen the shop. Henney's opening sale, grand co-operative jumble. Penny's penny prices, come by, come try, come buy. The poster really was most Tyson. There was a rush up on the opening day. The shop was crammed with customers, and they were crowds of mice upon the biscuit canisters. Sally Henney Penny gets rather flustered when she tries to count out change, and she insists on being paid cash, but she is quite harmless.

3:31:42And she has laid in a remarkable assortment of bargains. There is something to please everybody. End of Gingerbread Pickles.