And now that great glutton gobbles them all up at once, and makes
nothing of it! What I shall do in the winter, I'm sure I don't know.
There goes my corn, too, which I brought, a little at a time, all the
way from the field on the other side of the woods, and with which I was
often obliged to rest, two or three times before I reached home; and
then I sometimes had to lay my load down, while I had a battle with
another field mouse, who tried to take the corn away from me, under
pretence of helping me to carry it home, which I knew well enough meant
his own nest. And after all this fighting, and slaving, and carrying
heavy loads from sunrise to sunset, here comes a pair of great, grunting
pork chaps, and make a meal from my hard earnings. Well, never mind, Mr.
Pig. It's winter now; but perhaps by next harvest time, I shall creep
into some reaper's basket, and have a taste of you, when he brings a
part of you, nicely cured and cooked, and laid lovingly between two
slices of bread and butter. I'll be even with you then, old fellow--that
I will, if I am only spared!' And so he creeps out, scarcely knowing
whether he should make up his mind to beg, borrow, or steal, half
muttering to himself, as he hops across the way, to visit some neighbor
for a breakfast, 'I declare such infamous treatment is enough to make
one dishonest, and never be industrious and virtuous any more!'"
The Rabbit.
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