<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1>THE TALE OF<br/>GRANDFATHER MOLE<br/><br/><br/></h1>
<h2>BY</h2>
<h2>ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY</h2>
<h2><SPAN name="I" id="I"></SPAN>I</h2>
<h3>A QUEER OLD PERSON</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was a queer old person that lived
in Farmer Green's garden. Nobody knew
exactly how long he had made his home
there because his neighbors seldom saw
him. He might have been in the garden a
whole summer before anybody set eyes on
him.</p>
<p>Those that were acquainted with him
called him Grandfather Mole. And the
reason why his friends didn't meet him<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="p_2" id="p_2"></SPAN></span>
oftener was because he spent most of his
time underground. Grandfather Mole's
house was in a mound at one end of the
garden. He had made the house himself,
for he was a great digger. And Mr. Meadow
Mouse often remarked that it had
more halls than any other dwelling he had
ever seen. He had visited it when Grandfather
Mole was away from home, so he
knew what it was like.</p>
<p>Some of those halls that Mr. Meadow
Mouse mentioned ran right out beneath
the surface of the garden. Grandfather
Mole had dug them for a certain purpose.
Through them he made his way in the
darkness, whenever he was hungry (which
was most of the time, for he had a huge
appetite!). And when he took an underground
stroll he was almost sure to find a
few angleworms, which furnished most of
his meals.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="p_3" id="p_3"></SPAN></span>To be sure, he did not despise a grub—if
he happened to meet one—nor a cutworm
nor a wire-worm.</p>
<p>The wonder of it was that Grandfather
Mole ever found anything to eat, for the
old gentleman was all but blind. The only
good Grandfather Mole's eyes did him
was to let him tell darkness from light.
They were so small that his neighbors
claimed he hadn't any at all.</p>
<p>Another odd thing about this odd person
was his ears. The neighbors said they
couldn't see them, either. But they were
in his head, even if they didn't show. And
Grandfather Mole himself sometimes remarked
that he didn't know how he could
have burrowed as he did if he had been
forever getting dirt in his eyes and ears.
He seemed quite satisfied to be just as he
was.</p>
<p>And he used to say that he didn't<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="p_4" id="p_4"></SPAN></span>
know what good eyes were to anyone
whether he was under the ground or on
top of it!</p>
<p>Liking to dig as he did, he certainly had
nothing to complain about. His long nose
was as good as a drill. And his front legs
were just long enough so that he could
reach his large, spade-like feet beyond his
nose and throw the dirt back. His fur
lay in one direction as easily as in another,
never troubling him in the least when he
was boring his way through the dry, loose
soil of Farmer Green's garden.</p>
<p>So in spite of what might seem great
drawbacks to others, Grandfather Mole
was contented with his lot. The only
thing he was ever known to grumble about
was the scarcity of angleworms.</p>
<hr class="chapter" />
<p class="chapter"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="p_5" id="p_5"></SPAN></span></p>
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