A Collection of Beatrix Potter Stories | Page 3

BENJAMIN, on the contrary, was perfectly at home, and ate a lettuce
leaf. He said that he was in the habit of coming to the garden with his
father to get lettuces for their Sunday dinner.
(The name of little Benjamin's papa was old Mr. Benjamin Bunny.)
The lettuces certainly were very fine.
PETER did not eat anything; he said he should like to go home.
Presently he dropped half the onions.
LITTLE Benjamin said that it was not possible to get back up the
pear-tree, with a load of vegetables. He led the way boldly towards the
other end of the garden. They went along a little walk on planks, under
a sunny red- brick wall.

The mice sat on their door- steps cracking cherry-stones, they winked
at Peter Rabbit and little Benjamin Bunny.
PRESENTLY Peter let the pocket-handkerchief go again.
THEY got amongst flower- pots, and frames and tubs; Peter heard
noises worse than ever, his eyes were as big as lolly-pops!
He was a step or two in front of his cousin, when he suddenly stopped.
THIS is what those little rabbits saw round that corner!
Little Benjamin took one look, and then, in half a minute less than no
time, he hid himself and Peter and the onions underneath a large
basket. . . .
THE cat got up and stretched herself, and came and sniffed at the
basket.
Perhaps she liked the smell of onions!
Anyway, she sat down upon the top of the basket.
SHE sat there for FIVE HOURS.
* * * * *
I cannot draw you a picture of Peter and Benjamin underneath the
basket, because it was quite dark, and because the smell of onions was
fearful; it made Peter Rabbit and little Benjamin cry.
The sun got round behind the wood, and it was quite late in the
afternoon; but still the cat sat upon the basket.
AT length there was a pitter- patter, pitter-patter, and some bits of
mortar fell from the wall above.
The cat looked up and saw old Mr. Benjamin Bunny prancing along the
top of the wall of the upper terrace.
He was smoking a pipe of rabbit-tobacco, and had a little switch in his
hand.
He was looking for his son.
OLD Mr. Bunny had no opinion whatever of cats.
He took a tremendous jump off the top of the wall on to the top of the
cat, and cuffed it off the basket, and kicked it into the garden-house,
scratching off a handful of fur.
The cat was too much surprised to scratch back.
WHEN old Mr. Bunny had driven the cat into the green-house, he
locked the door.
Then he came back to the basket and took out his son Benjamin by the
ears, and whipped him with the little switch.

Then he took out his nephew Peter.
THEN he took out the handkerchief of onions, and marched out of the
garden.
When Mr. McGregor returned about half an hour later, he observed
several things which perplexed him.
It looked as though some person had been walking all over the garden
in a pair of clogs--only the foot-marks were too ridiculously little!
Also he could not understand how the cat could have managed to shut
herself up INSIDE the green-house, locking the door upon the
OUTSIDE.
WHEN Peter got home, his mother forgave him, because she was so
glad to see that he had found his shoes and coat. Cotton-tail and Peter
folded up the pocket- handkerchief, and old Mrs. Rabbit strung up the
onions and hung them from the kitchen ceiling, with the rabbit-tobacco.
THE END

THE TALE OF THE FLOPSY BUNNIES
FOR ALL LITTLE FRIENDS OF MR. McGREGOR & PETER &
BENJAMIN
IT is said that the effect of eating too much lettuce is "soporific."
I have never felt sleepy after eating lettuces; but then I am not a rabbit.
They certainly had a very soporific effect upon the Flopsy Bunnies!
WHEN Benjamin Bunny grew up, he married his Cousin Flopsy. They
had a large family, and they were very improvident and cheerful.
I do not remember the separate names of their children; they were
generally called the "Flopsy Bunnies."
AS there was not always quite enough to eat,-- Benjamin used to
borrow cabbages from Flopsy's brother, Peter Rabbit, who kept a
nursery garden.
SOMETIMES Peter Rabbit had no cabbages to spare.
WHEN this happened, the Flopsy Bunnies went across the field to a

rubbish heap, in the ditch outside Mr. McGregor's garden.
MR. McGREGOR'S rubbish heap was a mixture. There were jam pots
and paper bags, and mountains of chopped grass from the mowing
machine (which always tasted oily), and some rotten vegetable
marrows and an old boot or two. One day--oh joy!--there were a
quantity of overgrown lettuces, which