PRICKER, THE HEDGEHOG.
Shortly after poor Jacky's death, Papa called us into the garden.
"Children!" he said, "Here is something for you in my handkerchief.Guess what it is; but don't touch."
The handkerchief looked as if something very heavy was in it; and weguessed all sorts of things, but in vain.
At last Papa let us feel, and my sister grasped it rather roughly; butwithdrew her hand quickly, with five or six sharp pricks.
"Oh! it is a nasty hedgehog," cried she; "look how my fingers arebleeding!"
"Not a _nasty_ hedgehog," I said, "but a curious nice creature; wheredid you get it, Papa?"
"It was given to me this morning for you," he replied; "It will live inthe garden; and you must sometimes give it a little milk, and it willdo very well; and perhaps become quite tame."
The little creature, when placed on the grass, did not curl itself upand appear affrighted, but looked about him, and ran quickly to andfro. We brought some milk out in a saucer, but he could not manage toget his nose over the side; so we made a little pond of the milk on thegrass, and he dipped his black snout into it, and then sucked it upgreedily.
This hedgehog soon became very tame; when we took him up in our hands,he did not curl up in afright, but let us look at his feet, and touchand pat his curious little pig's face. He helped himself to what heliked best in the garden; and we never found that he rooted upanything, or did the slightest damage; he liked the milk which we gavehim daily; and when we were playing on the grass, he used to run aboutus, as if he liked our company.
We had been told that we should never be able to keep a hedgehog; thatthey always climbed over the walls, and escaped to the fields andhedges.
But although we did not in any way confine Pricker, he never attemptedto leave us, being apparently quite content with his run of the kitchengarden, flower garden and house; for we sometimes carried him into thekitchen, and up stairs into the nursery, where he would roll himself upinto some snug corner, and remain apparently asleep for an hour ormore.
When we had had Pricker for some weeks, we received a present of asecond hedgehog. He was larger, but never became so tame as our firstfriend; he did not like to be taken up in our hands, and we never couldobtain a good look at his black face and legs, as he rolled up on theslightest touch; and when Pricker was running about on the grass, hisshy companion used to remain hidden beneath the leaves and plants.
We had, at this time, a very favourite dog; and at the first coming ofthe hedgehogs, we were in some fear that Tawney would kill them, for hewas a most eager hunter of rats, weasels, rabbits, cats; in short, ofanything that would run from him.
But every one assured us that a dog would not kill a hedgehog, onaccount of his sharp prickles; and the first time that we showedPricker to Tawney, he made a sort of dart at him, and received, ofcourse, a violent prick on the nose; at this he retreated, barking andlicking his lips, and dancing round poor Pricker, with every desire toattack again; but hoping to find a spot unprotected by the formidablespikes.
Pricker, however, having tightly rolled himself up, such a spot was notto be found; and, after a great deal of noise and excitement, Tawneyretired, and we never observed him to venture again.
When Pricker was running on the grass, or when we were feeding him withmilk, Tawney used to play about without condescending to take theslightest notice of the little animal; in short, he pretended not tosee him. So that we felt quite easy about the safety of Pricker and hiscomrade.
What it was that induced Tawney not only to _see_ Pricker, but toattack him again, we do not know, as nobody was witness of thecatastrophe.
On going into the garden one brilliant morning, Tawney made hisappearance in a very excited state, bounding about our feet with ashort delighted bark, that was not usually his morning salutation; andon looking more closely at him, we saw that his nose was bleeding;indeed, his whole head and ears were much ruffled and marked.
We did not at first think of Pricker; but on wiping Tawney's face witha wet towel, we found that he was bleeding from many wounds.
"The hedgehog!" we exclaimed, "He must have killed poor Pricker."
So we commenced a grand hunt through the garden, looking under all thecabbage-plants, and in all the usual haunts.
Behind the cucumber frame we found our hedgehog; but as he curled upthe moment we looked at him, we knew that it was not Pricker; and onfurther search we discovered the mangled remains of the poor animal,whose natural armour had not been sufficient to protect him from sobrave and plucky a little dog as our Tawney, who must really havesuffered greatly from the deep thrusts into his face and head before hecould have inflicted a mortal bite.
Now, we thought, what shall we do with the other; as, doubtless,Tawney, would not allow him to live, having found himself the conquerorin the present instance.
Papa said that a gentlemen, one of our neighbours, had been telling himthat his kitchen was infested with black beetles; and that he had triedbeetle-traps, and all sorts of methods of getting rid of them in vain.Papa had told him that the surest way was to keep a hedgehog in thekitchen, as they devour black-beetles greedily.
"Now," said Papa, "as you cannot keep the little creature in safetyhere, you had better make a present of it to Mr. D----; and I adviseyou to carry it to him at once."
Accordingly, we took the hedgehog to our neighbour, and it was dulyinstalled in the kitchen.
In a day or two, we went to enquire whether the beetles weredecreasing.
Alas! the poor hedgehog had fallen a victim to his own greediness; for,having eaten too many beetles, he was found dead amidst a heap of theslain.