Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, 1882-10-12
The Mouse Turned Hermit.

In winter when my grandmother sat spinning
Close in the corner by the chimney side,
To many a tale, still ending, still beginning.
She made me list with eyes and mouth full wide
Wondering at all the monstrous things she told.
Things quite monstrous as herself was old.
She told me how the frogs and mice went fighting
And every word and deed of wolves and foxes,
OF ghosts and witches in dead night delighting,
OF fairy spirits rummaging in boxes;
And this in her ewn strain OF fearful JOY,
While stood by, happy, frightened boy.
One night quite sulky, not a word she utterd
Spinning away mute any fish,
Except that now and then she growld and NUT
At last begged and prayed till. to my wish,
She cleared her pipes, spat thrice, coughed for a
while,
And thus began with something like smile
Once time there was mouse" quoth she,
who, sick of worldly tears and laughter, grew
Enamour'd of a sainted privacy;
To all terrestrial things he bade adieu,
And entered far from mouse, or cat, or man,
A thick-wall'd cheese, the best Of Parmesan
And, good soul, knowing that the root of evil
Is idleness, that bane Of heavenly grace,
Our hermit labored hard against the devil
Unwearedly in that same sacred place,
Where further in he toiled and further yet,
With teeth for holy nibbling sharply set.
His fur-skin jacket soon became distended,
And his plump sides could vie with any friar's;
Happy the pous who, by Heaven befriended,
Reap the full harvest of their just desires.
And happier they, whom an eternal vow
Shuts from the world who live-we know not
how!
"Jtst at that time, driven to the very brink
OF dire destruction, was the mousal nation
Corn was lock ID up fast, close, without a chnk, =
No hope appeared to save them from starvation; /;
For who could dare grimalkins whisker'd chaps,
And long-clawed paws, in search of random
scraps"
Then was a solemn deputation sent
From one and all to every neghboring house,
Each with bag upon his shoulder went.
And last they came unto our hermit-mouse,
Where squeakng out chorus at his door,
They begged him to take pity ON the poor.
40 my dear children said the anehorite,
On mortal happiness and transient cares
No more bend my thoughts no more delight
In sublunary, worldly, vain affairs;
These things have l forsworn, and must though
loath,
Reprove your striving thus against my oath.
Poor, helpless as am, what can do:
A solitary tenant of these walls;
What can more than breathe my prayers for you"
And Heaven oft listens when the plOus calls!
Go, my dear children, leave me here to pray,
30, go, and take your empty bags away.
"Ho! grandmother cried /, this matches well
This mouse of yours snug within his cheese,
With many monk as snug within his cell,
Swollen up with plenty and life OF ease,
Who takes but cannot give to poor SINNER,
Proclaims fast and hurries home to dinner
All, hold your tongue!" the good old dame
screamed out,
You iackanapes! who taught you thus to pirate"
How is't you dare to slander the devout:
Men in so blessed SO sanctitied state!
Oh wretched world !-Ah hold your wicked tom
que!
IF eer you talk so naughtily again,
promise you twill be "a bitter day,
So spoke my grandmother, nor spoke in VAN;
She look d so fierce I'd not a word to say;
And still I'm silent hope to thrive,
For many grandmothers are yet alive.