Summer will soon be over. Sad, I know! Here is another poem pertaining to the field. It seems like a simple, quiet life, doesn’t it?
Autumn Days are pleasant:
When the men are reaping;
When the air is still and mild,
And the clouds seem sleeping.
Then we happy children
All run out together;
And we pluck the pretty flowers,
And enjoy the weather.
On the turf reclining,
Where the sun has dried it,
John and Anna are so glad,
That they cannot hide it.
Birds above are flying,
Little squirrels peeping:
Oh! we have a pleasant time
While the men are reaping.
Often there were little proverbs or bible verses that they would squeeze in between the poems and stories. This is one just like that!
The Words of Christ
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. —
Matt. vi 28.
How Tom Will Not Scratch Baby
I have a nice black cat whose name is Tom. When he was a kit’ten, he would let my lit’tle neph’ew Ar’thur dress him up with a night-cap. You may see a pict’ure of Tom in the arms of Ar’thur.
But those days are gone by. Ar’thur, in-stead of play’ing with kit’tens, has to go to school; and Tom has grown in-to a large, strong cat. A ba’by, too, has been born, whose name is No’ra. She is six months old.
Tom keeps my house free from rats and mice. He does not steal, and it is rare that he tries to scratch. But the oth’er day, for the first time, he scratched me; and I did not blame him for it much. I will tell you why.
No’ra likes to feel the soft warm fur on Tom’s back. For some time, Tom let her pull his ears and his fur as much as she chose. Tom seems to know she is a ba’by, and so he is not cross to her. But No’ra has grown so strong now, that she pulls quite hard.
The oth’er day I had her in my arms, and Tom was in a chair close by, when she took hold of Tom’s neck with both her hands as if to choke him. Tom tried to make her let go; but let go she would not.
Then Tom must have thought, “This ba’by knows no bet’ter than to choke me thus; but her moth’er ought to know bet’ter than to let her do it. I must not scratch the ba’by; but I think I may scratch her moth’er.”
And so Tom gave me a slight scratch on my wrist, which made me take ba’by’s hands off from his neck, so that he could jump down. I did not scold Tom, or strike him; for I was glad he scratched me in-stead of ba’by. Was he not a wise cat to know that I was the one he ought to pun’ish?
I can tell you another little story of Tom. He is very fond of the baby; and, when her mother is away, he seems to think that he ought to see that baby is not hurt. The other day a strange dog came in. He was a pretty big dog too. He came up to smell of the baby; when Tom spit at the big dog so fiercely, and growled so, that he was glad to get out of the way as fast as he could.
Another time a big rat came into the room where the baby lay asleep. I never saw Tom so fierce before. His hair stood on end with anger. He sprang on the poor rat, and killed him in a shorter time than it has taken me to tell you of the rat’s fate.
Do you think that cats think the way it is portrayed in the story? Tell us in the comments!