The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse

The country mouse lived under a hedge at the edge of a wheat field. The burrow had one door, one window the size of a coin, and a store of grain that took all autumn to carry home.

Your child“This is a good hedge,”

said the country mouse, every evening, looking out at the field going gold. It was not a big life, but all of it fitted.

One day a cousin arrived from the town, in a coat with two buttons and a way of looking at things sideways. He ate one grain of wheat, put it down again, and looked at the ceiling, which was a root.

The cousin“Is this it?”

said the cousin.

The cousin“Is this the whole of it?”

The country mouse said that it was, and offered him the good chair, which was a stone.

The cousin“Come and see where I live,”

said the cousin at last, cheering up.

The cousin“You have no idea!”

So they went down the lane, over the bridge and along the road with the lamps. The hedge got smaller behind them. Soon it was a dark line, and then it was gone.

The town house was tall and warm and smelled of butter. They squeezed through a little hole in the wall into a room as big as the whole wheat field. There was a carpet as soft as moss, and a fire in the fireplace.

The cousin“Wipe your feet,”

whispered the cousin.

The cousin“And whatever happens, do not squeak.”

The country mouse had never in its whole life seen so much supper in one place. There was cheese with holes and cheese without. There was a cake with a slice already gone out of it, which is the best kind.

The cousin“Try everything,”

said the cousin, with his mouth full.

The cousin“That is the rule!”

Then a door banged somewhere down the hall. Then there were feet. Then there was a cat. A real one, huge and silent, coming across the carpet without making a sound.

The cousin“RUN,”

said the cousin. Two mice went off the edge of the table like two dropped spoons.

They waited in the dark under the big cupboard for a long time, pressed flat, listening to something breathing on the other side of the wood. The cake was still up there. So was the cat.

Your child“Is it gone?”

whispered the country mouse, after a very long while.

The cousin“Ssh,”

said the cousin, who had simply got used to it.

The cousin“It is never gone.”

So in the morning the country mouse went home. Over the bridge, past the farm, along the lane and through the gap in the hedge, to the burrow with one little window. Supper was one grain of wheat, and it took a long time to eat.

Your child“My hedge has no cat!”

said the country mouse, and slept until the field went gold again.