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The New McGuffey Fourth Reader
by William H. McGuffey, Compiler

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By James Anthony Froude

A farmer, whose poultry-yard had suffered severely from the

foxes, succeeded at last in catching one in a trap. "Ah, you

rascal!" said he, as he saw him struggling, "I'll teach you to

steal my fat geese!--you shall hang on the tree yonder, and your

brothers shall see what comes of thieving."

The farmer was twisting a halter to do what he threatened, when

the fox, whose tongue had helped him in hard pinches before,

thought there could be no harm in trying whether it might not do

him one more good turn.

"You will hang me," he said, "to frighten my brother foxes. On

the word of a fox, they won't care; they'll come and look at me,

but they will dine at your expense before they go home again."

"Then I shall hang you for yourself, as a rogue and a rascal,"

said the farmer.

"I am only what nature chose to make me," the fox answered. "I

didn't make myself."

"You stole my geese," said the man.

"Why did nature make me like geese, then?" said the fox. "Live

and let live; give me my share, and I won't touch yours."

"I don't understand your fine talk," answered the farmer; "but I

know that you are a thief, and that you deserve to be hanged."

"His head is too thick to let me catch him so," thought the fox;

"I wonder if his heart is any softer! You are taking away the

life of a fellow-creature," he said; "that's a responsibility--

life is a curious thing, and who knows what comes after it?

"You say I am a rogue--I say I am not; but at any rate, I ought

not to be hanged--for if I am not, I don't deserve it; and if I

am, you should give me time to repent! I have him now," thought

the fox; "let him. get out if he can."

"Why, what would you have me do with you?" said the man.

"My notion is that you should let me go, and give me a lamb, or

goose or two, every month, and then I could live without

stealing; but perhaps you know better; my education may have been

neglected; you should shut me up, and take care of me, and teach

me. Who knows but I may turn into a dog? Stranger things than

this have happened."

"Very pretty," said the farmer; "we have dogs enough, and more,

too, than we can take care of, without you. No, no, Master Fox, I

have caught you, and I am determined that you shall swing. There

will be one rogue less in the world, anyhow."

"It is mere hate and unchristian vengeance," said the fox.

"No, friend," the farmer answered; "I don't hate you, and I don't

want to revenge myself on you; but you and I can't get on

together, and I think I am of more importance in this world than

you. If nettles and thistles grow in my cabbage garden, I don't

try to persuade them to grow into cabbages. I just dig them up.

"I don't hate them; on the contrary, I feel a sense of pity for

them. But I feel somehow that they mustn't hinder me with my

cabbages, and that I must put them away; and so, my poor friend,

I am sorry for you, but I am afraid you must swing."



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