THE STAG-HUNT.
"Did you ever see any deer?"—"No, did you!"—"Yes, I have a cousin who keeps a great number of them; he has a nice large park for them to live in, where they are quite happy. I like to see them there, but I should not like to see one hunted."—"What! do they ever hunt the stag?"—"Oh! yes, poor thing, and it runs as long as it has any strength, and when it can run no longer, its heart breaks, and it falls down and dies. I wonder how men can be so cruel."—"But are there any men so cruel as to hunt the stag?"—"Yes, what did you suppose them to be?"—"Why, dogs, or something of that kind, that have no more sense. I could not for a moment have thought that men would be so wicked: what motive can they have for so doing."—"My dear boy, they think they find pleasure in the chase."—"Pleasure! then, indeed, they do only think so, for I am sure there can be no real pleasure in being cruel. Oh! when will that happy time come, when men will be cruel no more, but will all walk in the footsteps of Jesus Christ."
