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In an old wood,
where the trees bend and shut out the sun, and the ground is all
covered with moss, stumps and logs, ferns and bright toad-stools,
lives the little snail. He cannot run as fast as his neighbor, the
lizzard, but he does the best he can. He has no particular house,
but travels about, looking for his dinner, and generally spends the
night near by. Like a soldier, he carries his tent with him, always
on his back, ready to run into it when the enemy appears. For his
dinner, he likes a certain kind of toad-stool; he runs up the stem,
and clings fast to the smooth, firm edges, making a delightful meal.
Once he had been a tiny white egg, like a partridge berry, tucked
away under a soft mossy blanket. When ready to come out, he ate up
the egg-shell, and set off to look for food. His house was nearly
one inch across, and striped brown and gold. The house grew as fast
as the snail, and he could not leave it, even if he wished to. His
body is flat on the lower side; instead of feet, he has many little
suckers, to hold fast to stones, or wood, or walk. He has many
brothers and cousins in the woods. One day the snail heard a voice,
while climbing a tree; he was so scared that he nearly lost his
balance, but remembered that it would break his shell to fall. He
listened. Two squirrels were talking loud, and a little bird sat
near by, putting in a word now and then.
"You are nobody," said the bigger squirrel, very angry. "How dare
you steal my nuts?"
"I did not think of stealing," timidly replied the other.
"Better not try it again! My name is Lord Grey. You have no name."
Bird sang, "Oh, yes, his name is Chippy, and mine is Robin
Red-Breast. We are as good as you!"
"How much talk about names," thought the snail. "I would not tell
Lord Grey, but I have none. How could I get one?"
The squirrel scampered away, and the snail continued his walk,
thinking how to get a name. He forgot to look for toad-stools, and
passed several. He could hardly sleep that night. Next morning he
was Hungry, and, while looking for his breakfast, he came to a big
stone, creeping over it, instead of going around. Suddenly,
something pounced on him, and he forgot to run into his house; he
walked about a little, and found himself on a hand; it made him very
dizzy to be up so far from the ground. A beautiful little girl, with
blue eyes and yellow curls, had picked him up, and he had heard her
say, "Oh! see what a beauty! Let us take him home for a pet." When
she reached home, she put him on the window-sill, where three pair
of eyes stared at him.
"Now, what sliall we call him?" said Alice; "he surely must have a
name. How would Helix do? "
"That is a pretty name," said her brother; "and as you have named
him, I will give him a place to live." He prepared a large pan, with
moss, and moistened it to keep it cool and fresh. The snail was
delighted with his name, and the children fed him every day, with
sponge cake, which he preferred to toad-stool, so he was qui happy
in his new home. They had other snails, named Seewell and Fayette,
but Helix was their pet, and every day he took a walk over Alice's
hand. When he wanted to go anywhere, he put out a pair of horns to
feel; and if he wanted to see, he would put out another pair of
longer horns, with eyes on the ends. One day, little Alice went out
riding, and did not have time to put Helix away, but left him on the
window-sill under a tumbler. Toward noon the sun crept around, and
shone in the window; it was so warm, that Helix put out his horns,
as far as he could, to get fresh air. It became hotter and hotter,
and the poor little fellow could get no air, and so had to die. When
Alice came home, she found him lying there, and poured cold water on
him; this did no good. Alice cried at the loss of her pet, and felt
sorry that she had been so careless. Her brother made a picture of
Helix, and put it away with the shell, which was no longer golden,
but white.
The Snail
A Fictional Short Story by
Agnes Taylor Ketchum & Ida M. Jorgensen
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