Short Story: The Tale Of Benjamin Bunny

Hello dear ones, Come and enjoy my reading of The Tale of Benjamin Bunny, written by Beatrix Potter, as he joins his cousin Peter Rabbit for more adventures in Mr. McGregor's garden! If you enjoyed this reading please check out my other bedtime stories and meditations.

I hope you have a blissful nights sleep.

Take care beautiful souls.

Transcript

Good evening beautiful souls and welcome to tonight's reading of The Tale of Benjamin Bunning by Beatrix Potter. So getting comfortable in your bed, Arriving here in the moment, Taking a big old stretch, Stretching out the muscles and take a big big yawn, And releasing any tension in your jaw and grounding yourself here in the moment, Becoming present, Noticing anything that you can smell around you in the room, Any remnants of taste in your mouth, Maybe you've just brushed your teeth, And paying attention to any sounds that you can hear, And noticing all the places where your skin makes contact with the duvet or the blanket, And find yourself sinking into your mattress, And finally bringing your attention to your breath, Not trying to change it, Just noticing how it is in this moment, Just arriving fully here now, Knowing that the day is done, And you can relax, And when you're all comfortable in your bed, We will begin with our tale of Benjamin Bunning. One morning a little rabbit sat on a bank, He pricked his ears and listened to the trit trot, Trit trot, Trit trot of a pony. A gig was coming along the road, It was driven by Mr. McGregor, And beside him sat Mrs. McGregor in her best bonnet. As soon as they had passed, Little Benjamin Bunning slid down into the road and set off with a hop, A skip, And a jump to call upon his relations, Who lived in the wood at the back of Mr. McGregor's garden. That wood was full of rabbit holes, And in the neatest, Sandiest hole of all, Lived Benjamin's aunt and his cousins, Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, And Peter. Old Mrs. Rabbit was a widow, She earned her living by knitting rabbit wool mittens and muffa teas, She also sold herbs and rosemary tea, And rabbit tobacco, Which is what we call lavender. Little Benjamin did not very much want to see his aunt, He came round the back of the fir tree, And nearly tumbled upon the top of his cousin, Peter. Peter was sitting by himself, He looked poorly and was dressed in a red cotton pocket handkerchief. Peter, Said little Benjamin in a whisper, Who has got your clothes? Peter replied, The scarecrow in Mr. McGregor's garden, And described how he had been chased about the garden and had dropped his shoes and coat. Little Benjamin sat down beside his cousin and assured him that Mr. McGregor had gone out on a gig, And Mrs. McGregor also, And certainly for the day, Because she was wearing her best bonnet. Peter said he hoped that it would rain. At this point, Old Mrs. Rabbit's voice was heard inside the rabbit hole, Calling, Cottontail, Cottontail, Fetch some more chamomile. Peter said he thought he might feel better if he went for a walk. They went hand in hand and got upon the flat top of the wall at the bottom of the wood. From here, They looked down into Mr. McGregor's garden. Peter's coat and shoes were plainly to be seen upon the scarecrow, Topped with an old tam-o-shanta of Mr. McGregor's. Little Benjamin said, It spoils people's clothes to squeeze under a gate. The proper way to get in is to climb down a pear tree. Peter fell down head first, But it was of no consequence, As the bed below was newly raked and quite soft. It had been sown with lettuces. They left a great many odd little footmarks all over the bed, Especially Little Benjamin, Who was wearing clogs. Little Benjamin said that the first thing to be done was to get back Peter's clothes in order that they might be able to use the pocket handkerchief. They took them from the scarecrow. They had been rained during the night. There was water in the shoes, And the coat was somewhat shrunk. Benjamin tried on the tam-o-shanta, But it was too big for him. Then he suggested that they should fill the pocket handkerchief with onions as a little present for his aunt. Peter did not seem to be enjoying himself. He kept hearing noises. He thought that the pocket handkerchief was too big for him. Benjamin, On the contrary, Was perfectly at home and ate a lettuce leaf. He said that he was in the habit of coming to the garden with his father to get lettuces for their Sunday dinner. The name of Little Benjamin's papa was Old Mr. Benjamin Bunny. The lettuces certainly were very fine. Peter did not eat anything. He said he should like to go home. Presently, He dropped half the onions. Little Benjamin said that it was not possible to get back up the pear tree with a load of vegetables. He led the way boldly towards the other end of the garden. They went along a little walk on planks under a sunny red brick wall. The mice sat on their doorsteps, Cracking cherry stones. They winked at Peter Rabbit and Little Benjamin Bunny. Presently, Peter let the pocket handkerchief go again. They got amongst the flower pots and frames and the tubs. Peter heard noises worse than ever. His eyes were as big as lollipops. He was a step or two in front of his cousin when he suddenly stopped. This is what those little rabbits saw round that corner. Little Benjamin took one look and then, In half a minute less than no time, He hid himself and Peter and the onions underneath a large basket. The cat got up and stretched herself and came and sniffed at the basket. Perhaps she liked the smell of onions. Anyway, She sat down upon the top of the basket. She sat there for five hours. I cannot draw you a picture of Peter and Benjamin underneath the basket because it was quite dark and because the smell of onions was fearful. It made Peter Rabbit and Little Benjamin cry. The sun got round behind the wood and it was quite late in the afternoon, But still the cat sat upon the basket. At length, There was a pitter-patter, Pitter-patter, And some bits of mortar fell from a wall above. The cat looked up and saw old Mr. Benjamin Bunny prancing along the top of the wall of the upper terrace. He was smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco and had a little switch in his hand. He was looking for his son. Old Mr. Bunny had no opinion whatever of cats. He took a tremendous jump off the top of the wall on to the top of the cat and cuffed it off the basket and kicked it into the greenhouse, Scratching off a handful of fur. The cat was much too surprised to scratch back. When old Mr. Bunny had driven the cat into the greenhouse, He locked the door. Then he came back to the basket and took out his son Benjamin by the ears. Then he took out his nephew Peter. Then he took out the handkerchief of onions and marched out of the garden. When Mr. McGregor returned about half an hour later, He observed several things which perplexed him. It looked as though some person had been walking all over the garden in a pair of clogs, Only the footmarks were too ridiculously little. Also, He could not understand how the cat could have managed to shut herself up inside the greenhouse, Locking the door upon the outside. When Peter got home, His mother forgave him because she was so glad to see that he had found his shoes and coat. Cottontail and Peter folded up the pocket handkerchief and old Mrs. Rabbit strung up the onions and hung them from the kitchen ceiling with the bunches of herbs and the rabbit tobacco.