You see, they could never get used to the notion of Mr. Turtle's being so old--as old as their twenty-seventh great-grandfathers would have been, if they had lived.

"Yes," said Mr. Turtle, "and it all comes back to me as plain as day. It happened two hundred and fifty-eight years ago last June. They used to call us the Tortoise family then, and I was a young fellow of sixty-seven and fond of a joke. But I was surprised when I went sailing over that fence, and I didn't mean to carry off Mr. Hare's tail. Dear me, how time pa.s.ses! I'm three hundred and twenty-five now, though I don't feel it."

Then they all looked at Mr. Turtle again, for though they believed he was old, and might possibly have been there, they thought it pretty strange that he could be the very Mr. Tortoise who had won the race.

Mr. 'Possum said, pretty soon, that when anybody said a thing like that, there ought to be some way to prove it.

Then Mr. Turtle got up and began taking off his coat, and all the others began to get out of the way, for they didn't know what was going to happen to Mr. 'Possum, and they wanted to be safe; and Mr. 'Possum rolled under the table, and said that he didn't mean anything--that he loved Mr. Turtle, and that Mr. Turtle hadn't understood the way he meant it at all.

But Mr. Turtle wasn't the least bit mad. He just laid off his coat, quietly, and unb.u.t.toned his shirt collar, and told Mr. 'c.o.o.n and Mr.

Crow to look on the back of his sh.e.l.l.

And then Mr. Dog held a candle, and they all looked, one after another, and there, sure enough, carved right in Mr. Turtle's sh.e.l.l, were the words:

BEAT MR. HARE

FOOT-RACE

JUNE 10, 1649

"That," said Mr. Turtle, "was my greatest joke, and I had it carved on my sh.e.l.l."

And all the rest of the forest people said that a thing like that was worth carving on anybody's sh.e.l.l that had one, and when Mr. Turtle put on his coat they gave him the best seat by the fire, and sat and looked at him and asked questions about it, and finally all went to sleep in their chairs, while the fire burned low and the soft snow was banking up deeper and deeper, outside, in the dark.

THE "SNOWED-IN" LITERARY CLUB

THE "SNOWED-IN" LITERARY CLUB

MR. RABBIT PROPOSES SOMETHING TO Pa.s.s THE TIME

"Did the Hollow Tree People and their company sleep in their chairs all night?" asks the Little Lady, as soon as she has finished her supper.

"And were they snowed in when they woke up next morning?"

The Story Teller is not quite ready to answer. He has to fill his pipe first, and puff a little and look into the fire before he sits down, and the Little Lady climbs into her place. The Little Lady knows the Story Teller, and waits. When he begins to rock a little she knows he has remembered, and then pretty soon he tells her about the Snowed-In Literary Club.

Well, the Hollow Tree People went to sleep there by the fire and they stayed asleep a long while, for they were tired with all the good times and all the good things to eat they had been having. And when they woke up once, they thought it was still night, for it was dark, though they thought it must be about morning, because the fire was nearly out, and Mr. 'Possum said if there was anybody who wasn't too stiff he wished they'd put on a stick of wood, as he was frozen so hard that he knew if he tried to move he'd break.

So Mr. Turtle, who had been drawn up mostly into his sh.e.l.l, and Mr. Dog, who was used to getting up at all hours of the night, stretched and yawned and crept down after some sticks and dry pieces and built up a good fire, and pretty soon they were all asleep again, as sound as ever.

And when they woke up next time it was still just as dark, and the fire had gone almost out again, and Mr. 'c.o.o.n and Mr. Crow, too, said they didn't understand it, at all, for a fire like that would generally keep all night and all day too, and here two fires had burned out and it was still as dark as ever. Then Mr. Crow lit a splinter and looked at the clock, and said he must have forgotten to wind it, or maybe it was because it was so cold, as it had stopped a little after twelve, and Mr.

'Possum said that from the way he felt it was no wonder the clock had stopped, for if he could tell anything by his feelings it must be at least day after to-morrow. He said he felt so empty that every time he breathed he could hear the wind whistle through his ribs.

That made Mr. Rabbit think of something, and he stepped over to the window. Then he pushed it up a little, and put out his hand. But he didn't put it out far, for it went right into something soft and cold.

Mr. Rabbit came over to where Mr. Crow was poking up the fire, bringing some of the stuff with him.

"Now," he said, "you can all see what's the matter. We're snowed in. The snow is up over the window, and that's why it's so dark. It may be up over the top of the tree, and we may have been asleep here for a week, for all we know."

Then they all gathered around to look at the snow, and went to the window and got some more, and tried to tell whether it was day or night, and Mr. Crow and Mr. 'c.o.o.n and Mr. 'Possum ran up-stairs to their rooms, and called back that it was day, for the snow hadn't come quite up to the tops of their windows.

And it _was_ day, sure enough, and quite late in the afternoon at that, but they couldn't tell just what day it was, or whether they had slept one night, or two nights, or even longer.

Well, of course the first thing was to get something to eat and a big fire going, and even Mr. 'Possum scrambled around and helped carry wood, so he could get warm quicker. They still had a good deal to eat in the Hollow Tree, and they were not much worried. Mr. 'Possum and Mr.

'c.o.o.n remembered another time they were snowed in, when Mr. Crow had fed them on Johnnie cake and gravy, and they thought that if everything else gave out it would be great fun to live like that again.

When they had finished eating breakfast, or dinner, or whatever it was, for it was nearer supper-time than anything else, they began to think of things to do to amuse themselves, and they first thought they'd have some more stories, like Mr. Rabbit's.

But Mr. Rabbit, who is quite literary, and a good poet, said it would be better to make it a kind of a club, and each have a poem, or a story, or a song; or if anybody couldn't do any of those he must dance a jig.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GOT AROUND THE TABLE AND BEGAN TO WORK]

Then they all remembered a poetry club that Mr. Rabbit had got up once and how nice it was, and they all said that was just the thing, and they got around the table and began to work away at whatever they were going to do for the "Snowed-In" Literary Club.

Mr. Rabbit wasn't very long at his piece, and pretty soon he jumped up and said he was through, and Mr. 'Possum said that if that was so, he might go down and bring up some wood and warm up the brains of the rest of them. So Mr. Rabbit stirred up the fire, and sat down and looked into it, and read over his poem to himself and changed a word here and there, and thought how nice it was; and by-and-by Mr. Dog said he was through, and Mr. Robin said he was through, too.

Then Mr. Rabbit said he thought that would be more than enough for one evening anyway, and that the others might finish their pieces to-morrow and have them ready for the next evening.

So then they all gathered around the fire again, and everybody said that as Mr. Rabbit had thought of the club first he must be the first to read his piece.

Mr. Rabbit said he was sure it would be more modest for some one else to read first, but that he was willing to start things going if they wanted him to. Then he stood up, and turned a little to the light, and took a nice position, and read his poem, which was called

SNOWED IN

_By J. Rabbit_

Oh, the snow lies white in the woods to-night-- The snow lies soft and deep; And under the snow, I know, oh, ho!

The flowers of the summer sleep.

The flowers of the summer sleep, I know, Snowed in like you and me-- Under the sheltering leaves, oh, ho, As snug and as warm as we-- As snug and as warm from the winter storm As we of the Hollow Tree.

Snowed in are we in the Hollow Tree, And as snug and as warm as they we be-- Snowed in, snowed in, Are we, are we, And as snug as can be in the Hollow Tree, The wonderful Hollow Tree.

Oh, the snow lies cold on wood and wold, But never a bit comes in, As we smoke and eat, and warm our feet, And sit by the fire and spin: And what care we for the winter gales, And what care we for the snow-- As we sit by the fire and spin our tales And think of the things we know?

As we spin our tales in the winter gales And wait for the snow to go?

Oh, the winds blow high and the winds blow low, But what care we for the wind and snow, Spinning our tales of the long ago As snug as snug can be?

For never a bit comes in, comes in, As we sit by the fire and spin, and spin The tales we know, of the long ago, In the wonderful Hollow Tree.

Mr. Rabbit sat down then, and of course everybody spoke up as soon as they could get their breath and said how nice it was, and how Mr. Rabbit always expressed himself better in poetry than anybody else could in prose, and how the words and rhymes just seemed to flow along as if he were reeling it off of a spinning-wheel and could keep it up all day.

And Mr. Rabbit smiled and said he supposed it came natural, and that sometimes it was harder to stop than it was to start, and that he _could_ keep it up all day as easy as not.

Then Mr. 'Possum said he'd been afraid that was what _would_ happen, and that if Mr. Rabbit hadn't stopped pretty soon that he--Mr. 'Possum, of course--would have been so tangled up in his mind that somebody would have had to come and undo the knot.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. 'POSSUM WANTED TO KNOW WHAT MR. RABBIT MEANT BY SPINNING THEIR TAILS]