Town Mouse and Country Mouse

Night dew still lay cold on every blade of grass when tiny feet began picking their way along a path through the fields. Four snow-white paws, used to the smooth, polished tiles of town, kept slipping on every pebble and every puddle of mud still wet with dew. A pink nose wrinkled. The smell of damp earth. The smell of wild grass. A faint smell of straw from far away. They were all strange smells that had never crept into the cozy room where she lived.

She was a town mouse, on her way to visit a relative who lived deep in the country. This is an old Greek fable, said to have been told by Aesop, and it tells of two mouse friends with two very different ways of life. The road was longer than she had thought. Tall grass closed over the path, and now and then a gust of wind made her huddle low. But she kept going, partly because she had not seen her relative in a long time, and partly because she was curious to see how that relative lived out in the country.

The country mouse ran out to meet her friend right at the start of the path, her whiskers trembling with joy. She was a sturdy little mouse, her fur a bit rumpled from squeezing through the hedgerow all day, but her eyes shone kind and honest. The two friends hugged, laughing and teary at once. Then the country mouse hurried her guest into the nest, asking question after question about life in town.

At mealtime, the country mouse set out everything she had. There were a few wheat stalks that still smelled of sunshine, a handful of nutty roots, and some crunchy acorns. With them came a sip of cool, plain water from a stream nearby. The country mouse ate heartily, chewing and chattering away about life in the fields. The town mouse only tasted a bit here and nibbled a bit there. She tried hard to look polite, though inside she thought what a meager meal it was.

After the meal, the two friends sat talking for a long time at the door of the nest, watching the moon rise through the leaves. The town mouse talked on and on about the city. She told of carpets as soft as clouds, feasts spread along great long tables, and lights that blazed all night and never went out. The country mouse listened wide-eyed. She had never imagined any place so splendid. That night, the two friends snuggled together in a warm, soft nest in the hedgerow and slept soundly and safely until morning. In her dream, the country mouse saw herself turned into a town mouse, living among all the luxuries her friend had described.

The next morning, the town mouse invited her friend to come and see the city. The country mouse agreed at once, her heart still fluttering from last night's dream. They set off. The dirt road slowly turned into a road paved with stone. The birdsong thinned out, and in its place came clattering, voices, and noise that grew louder and closer. The country mouse had never heard so many sounds at once. Overwhelmed, her steps kept faltering, but she did her best to follow her friend.

When they arrived, the two slipped into a large room where the town mouse lived. On the long table in the middle of the room lay the leftovers of a great feast from the night before, more food than anyone could easily imagine. Cakes glittering with sugar. Fruit jam, thick and glistening. Pastries still fragrant with butter. Rich, creamy pieces of cheese. These were the finest foods a mouse could ever dream of. The country mouse stopped short, her eyes shining. Never in her life had she seen so much good food.

But just as the country mouse brought her mouth close to a sweet-smelling pastry, a shrill meow rang out right by the door. Then came a loud scratching at the wood. Both mice jumped, dashed straight under a cupboard, and pressed close together, holding their breath without moving. After a while, when they dared to breathe again, they looked at each other with their whiskers still trembling. Then they burst out laughing at how timid they had been.

Once the noise at the door had died away completely, the two friends crept out, meaning to go back to the unfinished feast. The door flew open with a bang. Servants hurried in to clear the table, rattling bowls and plates, and right at their heels a big dog came thundering into the room. The two mice had only a moment to glance at each other. Then they ran as fast as their legs could go, darting into any crack they could find, the fur on their backs standing on end.

The country mouse huddled in a crack in the wall, catching her breath until she calmed down. Then she shook her head hard. She did not want to stay a moment longer. Still panting, she turned to her friend. "You have fine food and comforts that I do not have, and that is true," she said. "But I still prefer simple meals and a peaceful life in the country, where nobody has to jump with fright like this." With that, the country mouse said a hurried goodbye to her friend from town and set off for home that very night.

The road home was long, but the country mouse walked with steady steps, and the farther she went, the lighter her heart felt. The noise of the city grew faint behind her and then fell silent, giving way to the wind rustling through the familiar meadows.

Back at her nest, the country mouse sat down in her usual spot. She took out a few wheat stalks, a handful of roots, some acorns she had saved, and a sip of cool, fresh water. She ate slowly, bite by bite, her ears pricked to the steady chirping of crickets, the wind slipping through the leaves, and a stream babbling far away. There was no scratching at the door. No servants' footsteps and no barking dog broke into her meal. That simple meal, among the quiet and familiar things around her, tasted so very good.