u 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 a rabbit-skin for it; they'll come and look at
me; but you may depend upon it, 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, or whatever you call the thing, 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; but you keep them all
to yourself.'

'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--it is a curious
thing that life, 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 than me, and I am a rogue; my education may have been
neglected; you should shut me up, and take care of me, and teach me. Who
knows but in the end I may turn into a dog?'

'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 you shall swing, whatever is the logic of it. 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 g