ndigestible； but Imanaged to nibble it up at last。 It is not so easy to nibble one'sself into a poet； there are so many things to get through。 Now；however； I had two of them； understanding and imagination； and throughthese I knew that the third was to be found in the library。 A greatman has said and written that there are novels whose sole and only useappeared to be that they might relieve mankind of overflowing tears… akind of sponge； in fact； for sucking up feelings and emotions。 Iremembered a few of these books； they had always appeared temptingto the appetite； they had been much read； and were so greasy； thatthey must have absorbed no end of emotions in themselves。 I retracedmy steps to the library； and literally devoured a whole novel； thatis； properly speaking； the interior or soft part of it； the crust；or binding； I left。 When I had digested not only this； but a second； Ifelt a stirring within me； then I ate a small piece of a thirdromance； and felt myself a poet。 I said it to myself； and toldothers the same。 I had head…ache and back…ache； and I cannot tell whataches besides。 I thought over all the stories that may be said to beconnected with sausage pegs； and all that has ever been writtenabout skewers； and sticks； and staves； and splinters came to mythoughts； the ant…queen must have had a wonderfully clearunderstanding。 I remembered the man who placed a white stick in hismouth by which he could make himself and the stick invisible。 Ithought of sticks as hobby…horses； staves of music or rhyme； ofbreaking a stick over a man's back； and heaven knows how many morephrases of the same sort relating to sticks； staves； and skewers。All my thoughts rein on skewers； sticks of wood； and staves； and asI am； at last； a poet； and I have worked terribly hard to makemyself one； I can of course make poetry on anything。 I shall thereforebe able to wait upon you every day in the week with a poetical historyof a skewer。 And that is my soup。〃
〃In that case；〃 said the mouse…king； 〃we will hear what thethird mouse has to say。〃
〃Squeak； squeak；〃 cried a little mouse at the kitchen door； it wasthe fourth； and not the third； of the four who were contending for theprize； one whom the rest supposed to be dead。 She shot in like anarrow； and overturned the sausage peg that had been covered withcrape。 She had been running day and night。 She had watched anopportunity to get into a goods train； and had travelled by therailway； and yet she had arrived almost too late。 She pressed forward；looking very much ruffled。 She had lost her sausage skewer； but nother voice； for she began to speak at once as if they only waited forher； and would hear her only； and as if nothing else in the worldwas of the least consequence。 She spoke out so clearly and plainly；and she had e in so suddenly； that no one had time to stop her orto say a word while she was speaking。 And now let us hear what shesaid。
WHAT THE FOURTH MOUSE； WHO SPOKE
BEFORE THE THIRD； HAD TO TELL
〃I started off at once to the largest town；〃 said she； 〃but thename of it has escaped me。 I have a very bad memory for names。 I wascarried from the railway； with some forfeited goods； to the jail；and on arriving I made my escape； and ran into the house of theturnkey。 The turnkey was speaking of his prisoners； especially ofone who had uttered thoughtless words。 These words had given rise toother words； and at length they were written down and registered： 'Thewhole affair is like making soup of sausage skewers；' said he； 'butthe soup may cost him his neck。'
〃Now this raised in me an interest for the prisoner；〃 continuedthe little mouse； 〃and I watched my opportunity； and slipped intohis apartment； for there is a mouse…hole to be found behind everyclosed door。 The prisoner looked pale； he had a great beard and large；sparkling eyes。 There was a lamp burning； but the walls were soblack that they only looked the blacker for it。 The prisoner scratchedpictures and verses with white chalk on the black walls； but I did notread the verses。 I think he found his confinement wearisome； so that Iwas a wele guest。 He enticed me with bread…crumbs； withwhistling； and with gentle words； and seemed so friendly towards me；that by degrees I gained confidence in him； and we became friends；he divided his bread and water with me； gave me cheese and sausage；and I really began to love him。 Altogether； I must own that it was avery pleasant intimacy。 He let me run about on his hand； and on hisarm； and into his sleeve； and I even crept into his beard； and hecalled me his little friend。 I forgot what I had e out into theworld for； forgot my sausage skewer which I had laid in a crack in thefloor… it is lying there still。 I wished to stay with him always whereI was； for I knew that if I went away the poor prisoner would haveno one to be his friend； which is a sad thing。 I stayed； but he didnot。 He spoke to me so mournfully for the last time； gave me double asmuch bread and cheese as usual； and kissed his hand to me。 Then hewent away； and never came back。 I know nothing more of his history。
〃The jailer took possession of me now。 He said something aboutsoup from a sausage skewer； but I could not trust him。 He took me inhis hand certainly； but it was to place me in a cage like atread…mill。 Oh how dreadful it was！ I had to run round and roundwithout getting any farther in advance； and only to make everybodylaugh。 The jailer's grand…daughter was a charming little thing。 Shehad curly hair like the brightest gold； merry eyes； and such a smilingmouth。
〃'You poor little mouse；' said she； one day as she peeped intomy cage； 'I will set you free。' She then drew forth the ironfastening； and I sprang out on the window…sill； and from thence to theroof。 Free！ free！ that was all I could think of； not of the objectof my journey。 It grew dark； and as night was ing on I found alodging in an old tower； where dwelt a watchman and an owl。 I had noconfidence in either of them； least of all in the owl； which is like acat； and has a great failing； for she eats mice。 One may however bemistaken sometimes； and so was I； for this was a respectable andwell…educated old owl； who knew more than the watchman； and even asmuch as I did myself。 The young owls made a great fuss abouteverything； but the only rough words she would say to them were；'You had better go and make some soup from sausage skewers。' She wasvery indulgent and loving to her children。 Her conduct gave me suchconfidence in her； that from the crack where I sat I called out'squeak。' This confidence of mine pleased her so much that she assuredme she would take me under her own protection； and that not a creatureshould do me harm。 The fact was； she wickedly meant to keep me inreserve for her own eating in winter； when food would be scarce。 Yetshe was a very clever lady…owl； she explained to me that thewatchman could only hoot with the horn that hung loose at his side；and then she said he is so terribly proud of it； that he imagineshimself an owl in the tower；… wants to do great things； but onlysucceeds in small； all soup on a sausage skewer。 Then I begged the owlto give me the recipe for this soup。 'Soup from a sausage skewer；'said she； 'is only a proverb amongst mankind； and may be understood