FRAGMENTS FROM UNPUBLISHED TALES OF BEATRIX POTTER

Abstract

1 2 9 R F R A G M E N T S F R O M U N P U B L I S H E D T A L E S O F B E A T R I X P O T T E R G A B R I E L F R I E D I. . . . until they reached a clearing in the middle of the woods. There they stopped short. Someone had been there not long before. They could see footprints in the moss. Whoever it was had walked to the center of the clearing, but then had turned back, as if he had found what he was looking for or had forgotten something important that needed fetching. Who could it have been? The prints were too large for a cat or rabbit, or even a fox. And yet they were too shallow for a wolf. They almost seemed made by a small, barefoot man, though on closer inspection they showed evidence of claws. And they smelled faintly of rotten goat! II. Amos stood naked in the parlor. Whatever shall I do! he cried. It was too late to return to town. Besides he couldn’t go out without his cap and scarf. And even if he could find his clothes, his knees ached terribly. What’s more, something he guessed was blackberry jam was matting down the fur along the inside of his hind legs, making it quite uncomfortable to walk. It was beginning to attract bees. III. Flora descended the passageway for what seemed at least a quarter-hour. 1 3 0 F R I E D Y How very long it is, she thought, and how steep. The cottage appeared so dear from the outside. She continued onward. Several times, she thought she heard footsteps. But when she stopped to listen, the footsteps ceased. And once, a sudden draft, as if from a closing door, almost blew out her lantern! Finally the passageway leveled o√. Flora found herself in some sort of storeroom. In it were two enormous piles, each one reaching nearly to the ceiling. One pile was of almonds. The other was of a fruit she’d never seen. Its peel was crimson and its perfume was like mead, pleasant but quite insistent. Flora suddenly felt rather faint from hunger. IV. He stood above the brook and gazed sadly at his reflection. His jacket was stained from the port, and his fine, new waistcoat was torn from all the fawning. Three young trout poked their heads through the waterline just where his face reflected back at him. They mocked him, singing Oliver Ermine, used to looking so fine Oliver Ermine, used to looking so fine Then they spouted water all over his handsome pair of suede bucks. He never could get the water stains out. V. She went around to the far side of the cottage wearing work gloves and carrying a basket woven from cattails. There she collected an alarming assortment of growths and vegetation, including rhubarb leaves, nightshade, and foxgloves. She stopped to collect a discarded peach pit F R A G M E N T S F R O M U N P U B L I S H E D T A L E S O F P O T T E R 1 3 1 R from the rubbish heap, before going to the tool shed in search of a mallet. When she returned to the kitchen, the broth on the stove had begun to boil. VI. And that was the last that anyone ever saw of Doctor Julian Jackal. ...