Mr. Rabbit at home; a sequel to Little Mr. Thimblefinger and his queer country (1895) (14772553183)

Identifier: mrrabbitathomese00harr2 (find matches)
Title: Mr. Rabbit at home; a sequel to Little Mr. Thimblefinger and his queer country
Year: 1895 (1890s)
Authors: Harris, Joel Chandler, 1848-1908
Subjects:
Publisher: Boston, New York, Houghton, Mifflin and Company



Text Appearing Before Image:
peeping frombehind the oven. 124 MR. RABBIT AT HOME. Are they all gone ? he whispered, comingforward a little way. All who ? asked Sparkle Spry. The old ones — the big man and the fatwoman. ( They have gone to bed/ said Sparkle Spry. I can call them ! No, no/ cried the old man. They are suchfools ! They dont know what is good for them.I have been waiting for years to get a chance toshow them how to bake bread. Once I showedmyself to the man, and he thought I was a snake;once to the woman, and she thought I was a rat.What fools they are ! Who are you ? inquired Sparkle Spry. Hedid nt like to hear his friends abused. « < Who — me ? I m the King of the Clinkers— twice plunged in the water and twice burnedin the fire. Well, to-night you can bake all the breadyou want to/ said Sparkle Spry. The baker andhis wife have been trying to supply the army thatis camped here, but their oven is too small. Theyhave worked until they can work no longer, andnow they have gone to bed to rest.
Text Appearing After Image:
HE SAW AN OLD MAN, NO BIGGER THAN A BROOMSTICK Ti:E NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY ASTOR,TILDEN FOUNDATIONS THE KING OF THE CLINKERS. 125 €€ Good! cried the King of the Clinkers.6 Shut the door, so they cant hear us ! I 11 showthem a thing or two about baking bread. Then he walked close to the hot oven, tappedon it with a little poker that he carried in his belt,and called out: f Wake up ! Get out! Comeon ! Hurry up ! We ve no time to lose ! Showyourselves ! Stir about! Be lively ! With that, hundreds of little men swarmedout of the ash heap behind the oven, some ofthem sneezing and. gome rubbing their eyes, butall jumping about with motions as quick as thoseof a flea when he iumpg.^ : - » ., ;•• &•.**£ >•.;..: •- Oh, please dont talk about fleas, pleadedMr. Eabbit, shuddering and scratching himselfbehind the ear. It makes the cold chills runup my back. I never hear em named but I thinkI can feel em crawling on me. Anyhow, thats the way the little men jumpedabout, said