ut so clearly and plainly, and she had come in so suddenly,
that no one had time to stop her or to say a word while she was
speaking. This is what she said.

WHAT THE FOURTH MOUSE, WHO SPOKE BEFORE THE THIRD, HAD TO TELL

"I started off at once to the largest town," said she, "but the name of
it has escaped me. I have a very bad memory for names. I was carried
from the railway, with some goods on which duties had not been paid, to
the jail, and on arriving I made my escape, running into the house of
the keeper. He was speaking of his prisoners, especially of one who had
uttered thoughtless words. These words had given rise to other words,
and at length they were written down and registered. 'The whole affair
is like making soup of sausage skewers,' said he, 'but the soup may cost
him his neck.'

"Now this raised in me an interest for the prisoner," continued the
little mouse, "and I watched my opportunity and slipped into his
apartment, for there is a mousehole to be found behind every closed
door.

"The prisoner, who had a great beard and large, sparkling eyes, looked
pale. There was a lamp burning, but the walls were so black that they
only looked the blacker for it. The prisoner scratched pictures and
verses with white chalk on the black walls, but I did not read the
verses. I think he found his confinement wearisome, so that I was a
welcome guest. He enticed me with bread crumbs, with whistling, 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 and gave me cheese and sausage, and I began to love him.
Altogether, I must own that it was a very pleasant intimacy. He let me
run about on his hand, on his arm, into his sleeve, and even into his
beard. He called me his little friend, and I forgot for what I had come
out into the world; forgot my sausage skewer, which I had laid in a
crack in the floor, where it is still lying. I wished to stay with him
always, for I knew that if I went away, the poor prisoner would have no
one to be his friend, which is a sad thing.

"I stayed, but he did not. He spoke to me so mournfully for the last
time, gave me double as much bread and cheese as usual, and kissed his
hand to me. Then he went away and never came back. I know nothing more
of his history.

"The jailer took possession of me now. He said something about soup from
a sausage skewer, but I could not trust hi