bove the hut where there
are the old apple trees left from the first house the Ravens lived in,
on the back road, before the other road went through. And on one of the
lower limbs of the apple tree was a robin and she was making that noise
a robin makes when she is scared 'most to pieces, and on another limb
there was a red squirrel, and he was chattering so I knew he was scared,
too. And down under the tree there was a snake pointed right at a little
toad, and I stamped my foot and hollered to scare him away; and that
same minute he struck and the toad fell over, whether poisoned to death
or scared to death I didn't know. And the snake slipped away, because he
was afraid of me, just as the toad was afraid of him. And the bird
smoothed down her feathers and flew away, and the squirrel run along
where he was going. They had got off that time, and I suppose the next
minute they forgot all about it. But I never forgot. It was just as if
something had painted a picture to show me what the world was. It was
full of fear. Everything was made to hunt down and kill everything else,
except the innocent things that eat grass and roots, and innocent as
they be--as they are--they are killed, too. And who made it so? God. So
what peace could I have--what peace could anybody ever have--in a world
where, from morning till night, it is war and murder and the fear of
death? And what good is there in trying to bring the kingdom of heaven
down to men? You can't bring it to the animals. What if you could die
for men? A good many have done that besides Jesus Christ. But who is
going to die for the animals? And the animals in captivity--I saw a bear
once, in a cage, walking up and down, up and down, and moaning. I saw a
polar bear once trying to cool himself on a cake of ice. I saw an eagle
with his wings clipped. An eagle ought to be up in the air. And all that
could be done away with, by law, if men would see to it. But even then
(and this is the strangest part of it, the part that won't bear thinking
about) it is not only that men are unmerciful to the animals, but the
animals, when they are hungry, are unmerciful to one another. I shall
come back to this.

"Now about Jesus Christ. I hate to write this because, if the boy does
not see things as I do, maybe it will be bad for him to read it, and he
may think I am blaspheming holy things. I pray him to remember I write
in earnestness and love, love for him, for the earth and for the
animals