Part 36 (1/2)

But, truly, what had been my fate, Had this had half a Pumpkin's weight!

I see that G.o.d had reasons good, And all His works were understood.”

Thus home he went in humbler mood.

The Cat and the Fox

The Cat and Fox, when saints were all the rage Together went upon pilgrimage.

Our Pilgrims, as a thing of course, Disputed till their throats were hoa.r.s.e.

Then, dropping to a lower tone, They talk'd of this, and talk'd of that, Till Reynard whisper'd to the Cat, ”You think yourself a knowing one: How many cunning tricks have you?

For I've a hundred, old and new, All ready in my haversack.”

The Cat replied, ”I do not lack, Though with but one provided; And, truth to honour, for that matter, I hold it than a thousand better.”

In fresh dispute they sided; And loudly were they at it, when Approach'd a mob of dogs and men.

”Now,” said the Cat, ”your tricks ransack, And put your cunning brains to rack, One life to save; I'll show you mine-- A trick, you see, for saving nine.”

With that, she climb'd a lofty pine.

The Fox his hundred ruses tried, And yet no safety found.

A hundred times he falsified.

The nose of every hound Was here, and there, and everywhere, Above, and under ground; But yet to stop he did not dare, Pent in a hole, it was no joke, To meet the terriers or the smoke.

So, leaping into upper air, He met two dogs, that choked him there.

_Expedients may be too many, Consuming time to choose and try.

On one, but that as good as any, 'Tis best in danger to rely._

The City Rat and the Country Rat

A city Rat, one night Did with a civil stoop A Country Rat invite To end a turtle soup.

Upon a Turkey carpet They found the table spread, And sure I need not harp it How well the fellows fed.

The entertainment was A truly n.o.ble one; But some unlucky cause Disturbed it when begun

It was a slight rat-tat, That put their Joys to rout; Out ran the City Rat; His guest, too, scampered out.

Our rats but fairly quit, The fearful knocking ceased, ”Return we,” said the cit, ”To finish there our feast.”

”No,” said the Rustic Rat; ”To-morrow dine with me.

I'm not offended at Your feast so grand and free,

”For I've no fare resembling; But then I eat at leisure, And would not swap for pleasure So mixed with fear and trembling.”

The Ploughman and His Sons

A wealthy Ploughman drawing near his end Call'd in his Sons apart from every friend, And said, ”When of your sire bereft, The heritage our fathers left Guard well, nor sell a single field.

A treasure in it is conceal'd: The place, precisely, I don't know, But industry will serve to show.

The harvest past. Time's forelock take, And search with plough, and spade, and rake; Turn over every inch of sod, Nor leave unsearch'd a single clod.”

The father died. The Sons in vain-- Turn'd o'er the soil, and o'er again; That year their acres bore More grain than e'er before.

Though hidden money found they none, Yet had their Father wisely done, To show by such a measure That toil itself is treasure.

_The farmer's patient care and toil Are oftener wanting than the soil._