Once upon a time, a cheerful little hedgehog named Harry lived snugly in his nice warm burrow not far from the bushy hedgerow he called home. All about him lay the brown, crispy leaves of past autumns, and the air was chilly and biting.
But Harry was quite warm inside, and smelling his nice supper of roots and nuts, he said to himself, “I don’t mind how cold or what a rough night it is outside, I am sure to sleep wonderfully well to-night. I can curl up all in a ball, and nothing can hurt me.”
So he sat down to a hearty supper, of which he was just about to take the last mouthful when—hark! What was that?
“Goodness gracious! What a very pitiful noise! Is it not a little child crying! I will run and see.”
Harry jumped outside his prickly door and pushed his way through the crisp leaves, the stones, the frost, and the snow, and reached at last the big tree not far off. “Oh! dear me! Do be quiet! You will kill me entirely! I am nearly frozen to death!” He peeped and peeped through the branches, but he could not see anything. The noise seemed to come from a big hole in the tree, and at last Harry bent down his head and exclaimed, “Hello! Is anybody at home?” “No,” answered a little voice, in a feeble tone, “I am here alone, a poor little lost child, nearly frozen to death!”
“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that. Can’t I do anything to help you?” asked Harry. “Oh yes! Do come in and sleep by my side. I am so small that I can hardly keep myself warm, and so much dead wood is falling it is too much for me. So do come, do come!”
“No, I thank you; I am insured by an excellent friend,” cried Harry, for you see he was beginning to feel dreadfully cold and miserable now. “However, if you are very, very uncomfortable, draw a little nearer, and I will give you this last mouthful of supper.”
The poor child, who was a little squirrel, accepted the kind offer, and in a moment disappeared right inside Harry’s hole, and grumbling and murmuring, they both got to bed at last.
The next day was as cold and snowy as its miserable predecessor. Harry the Hedgehog was lying snug before his fire of autumn leaves, quite astonished he had not long ago laid in a harvest supper for himself, when a loud knocking was heard at his door. “Come in, come in. I never go out for whoever is kind enough to call.”
At this about ten little animals, birds, and insects tumbled over each other, all wanting to come first on fire’s edge; and all had read the notice fastened to his door which ran as follows:—
“Whoever wants shelter, food, or fire, every word the little animals could desire, Must come and knock at this door. Yes, yes, Don’t stand hard by with your cold feet and bless.”
“Oh! Mist, Mist, Harry, my dear friend,” cried the little squirrel from that same big hole. “What are we to do! Such numbers, such numbers, actually want lodging and supper!”
“Ah yes! I see, I see; that’s true! I forgot that I had none left, so just go to sleep and I will jump in for something to eat!” When Harry said this he stole out and ran as fast as his legs could carry him to where he had hidden his supper for bad weather, and laid in very good time boxes and barrels of every kind of food and roots fit to eat that were suitable for all his visitors.
And all this time those who were lounging by his supper wanted him to be a good child, and no longer to want everything for himself: and when this prayer was heard, Harry understood that it was better to be generous and kind.
Yes, now Harry gets up merrily and gaily for his visitors, and no longer lies down like a snail to think of his own supper first.
It’s a very different thing now: they are all his friends, and act towards one another as each one would be treated. Then travelling about all together is not dreary and dark; they enjoy themselves as merry as day; and when the sun shines, and the birds sing, and the trees are illuminated, all have joined to call Spring to the door.