JULY
When the scarlet cardinal tells
Her dreams to the dragon-fly
And the lazy breeze makes a nest in the trees
And murmurs a lullaby,
It is July.
Susan Hartley Swett.
CUFF AND THE WOODCHUCK
John Burroughs
I knew a farmer in New York who had a very large bob-tailed churn dog by the name of Cuff. The farmer kept a large dairy and made a great deal of butter, and it was the business of Cuff to spend nearly half of each summer day treading the endless round of the churning machine. During the remainder of the day he had plenty of time to sleep and rest, and sit on his hips and survey the landscape.
One day, sitting thus, he discovered a woodchuck about forty rods from the house, on a steep hillside, feeding about near his hole, which was beneath a large rock. The old dog, forgetting his stiffness, and remembering the fun he had had with woodchucks in his earlier days, started off at his highest speed, vainly hoping to catch this one before he could get to his hole. But the woodchuck, seeing the dog come labouring up the hill, sprang to the mouth of his den, and, when his pursuer was only a few yards off, whistled tauntingly and went in. This occurred several times, the old dog marching up the hill, and then marching down again, having had his labour for his pains.
I suspect that he revolved the subject in his mind while revolving the great wheel of the churning machine, and that some turn or other brought him a happy thought, for next time he showed himself a strategist. Instead of giving chase to the woodchuck, when first discovered, he crouched down to the ground, and, resting his head on his paws, watched him. The woodchuck kept working away from his hole, lured by the tender clover, but, not unmindful of his safety, lifted himself up on his haunches every few moments and surveyed the approaches.
Presently, after the woodchuck had let himself down from one of these attitudes of observation and resumed his feeding, Cuff started swiftly but stealthily up the hill, precisely in the attitude of a cat when she is stalking a bird. When the woodchuck rose up again, Cuff was perfectly motionless and half hid by the grass. When he again resumed his clover, Cuff sped up the hill as before, this time crossing a fence, but in a low place, and so nimbly that he was not discovered. Again the woodchuck was on the lookout; again Cuff was motionless and hugging the ground.
As the dog neared his victim, he was partially hidden by a swell in the earth, but still the woodchuck from his lookout reported "All right," when Cuff, having not twice as far to run as the chuck, threw all stealthiness aside and rushed directly for the hole. At that moment the woodchuck discovered his danger and, seeing that it was a race for life, leaped as I never saw marmot leap before. But he was two seconds too late, his retreat was cut off, and the powerful jaws of the old dog closed upon him.
The next season Cuff tried the same tactics again with like success, but when the third woodchuck had taken up his abode at the fatal hole, the old churner's wits and strength had begun to fail him, and he was baffled in each attempt to capture the animal.
WHY THE LADY-BUG IS SAID TO BE
BELOVED OF GOD
Translated from the French by M. L. Cook
A long time ago, in France, the great lords had full power over the people. They had power to make them work and fight, and they judged them and punished them when they did wrong.
Now there was a lord in these times, who had a dearly beloved younger brother; and this brother was found dead one morning, lying near a hedge, from behind which the murderer must have sprung to strike him down.
The lord ordered the murderer to be taken, if possible, and vowed that if he was found he should suffer a punishment for his crime.
The very evening after his brother's death, when the lord was praying in his room, there entered his steward, Crondas, who said to him:
"My lord, I have discovered your brother's murderer, and have had him brought here that he may appear before you."
"Let him be brought to me," said the lord, "and if you see in me any signs of mercy, remind me of the crime he has committed, that I may punish him as he deserves."
Crondas made a sign to the servants; and they brought in a peasant with a white, shocked face, who fell on his knees before his master, exclaiming:
"Have mercy upon me, my lord! I swear to you I have committed no crime!"
When the lord demanded of Crondas the proofs of the man's guilt, Crondas showed him a purse, saying:
"My lord, if you are inclined to believe what this man says, I only beg you to ask the scoundrel how he happened to have in his house this purse, which belonged to your dead brother."
"I recognize it," said the lord, with deep feeling.
"And this, my lord, do you also recognize it?" said Crondas, showing him a gold ring.
"Yes," said the lord again; "it is the ring my brother always wore on the ring finger of his left hand."
"My lord," went on Crondas, "I found these things myself, in a hiding-place in this man's house. Now, does he dare say, on his knees, that he is innocent of the dreadful crime with which he is charged?"
Not being able to explain the presence of the things in his house, the poor peasant was judged to be guilty, and condemned to be killed on the very spot where his victim's body had been found. While he lay in prison, waiting for his execution, all the peasants round about visited the lord and begged him not to punish the man. They all said of him—what we say when we wish to credit anyone with unusual kindness and gentleness:
"We have known him long, my lord, and we know he would not even crush an insect in his path."
But Crondas, who never left the lord, said to each one:
"Bah! that is no reason why he should not kill a man; and if he is not punished, many others will be encouraged to be murderers. Let him suffer for his misdeeds."
And to every effort the peasants made to put off the day of punishment, Crondas replied:
"Ah, my lord, these people know how merciful you are. They think that, the first anguish of your grief once past, you will pardon the murderer."
At this the lord never failed to cry:
"No, no, never! He shall be punished."
So the lord, urged by Crondas, ordered the men to prepare to execute the peasant, adding that he wished to be present, that he might see perish the wretch who had killed his brother.
Crondas was very active in the preparations, bringing faggots to help build the fire, and arranging with his own hands a sort of throne made of branches for his lord. Then he went to tell him all was ready, and the lord came, followed by a crowd of people, who wept and lamented over the peasant's unjust death.
Crondas then said to the servants:
"Tie him, and set fire to the pile."
Meantime the lord was watching the proceedings with deep attention and saying nothing; but his eyes went from the peasant to Crondas and from Crondas back to the peasant, then to the servants who stood by the faggots ready to light the fire.
And as the servants were slow in obeying, Crondas cried to them:
"Come, come, hurry up! Our lord is waiting."
He was in haste to see the death of the peasant; but the poor man said to those who were about to tie him:
"Oh, let me make a last prayer, I beg of you!"
And, though Crondas begged the lord not to grant this request, the lord extended his hand to command the servants to grant to the peasant that which he had asked; and, as he did so, he saw Crondas make a sign of impatience.
The peasant, dropping his sad, haggard eyes, was about to kneel on a stone not far from where his lord was sitting; but, seeing on the stone a little lady-bug just at the place where his knee was at rest, he put it to one side gently, with his hand, so as not to crush it. Then, kneeling down, he began to pray.
As the lord watched him, he noticed that the little creature, whose life he had just spared, suddenly opened its bright wings and, taking flight, lighted on Crondas's left hand. Crondas, for no reason except that he was perhaps annoyed at having to wait so long for the execution, put a finger of his right hand on the insect, and almost crushed it. When he lifted it, a pair of broken red wings faintly quivered.
At this moment the peasant, having finished his prayer, rose from the stone. The lord, descending from his throne, cried suddenly:
"Let that man go! Do not kill him; he is not my brother's murderer. That is impossible!"
While speaking thus, the lord kept his eyes fixed on the face of Crondas, which suddenly grew white with fear. However, Crondas approached his master, saying:
"But the proofs, my lord? The proofs are there. If you do not find them sufficient to convict this man, whom can you accuse of the murder?"
Then the lord, taking Crondas's hand, cried loudly:
"Whom can I accuse? Perhaps you, Crondas, for there is blood upon your hand. At the very moment when you pretended to be full of horror for the crime of murder, you killed for mere pleasure this poor little creature, which had lighted unsuspectingly upon your hand, but which the peasant, unjustly condemned, had spared, when his own death stared him in the face."
Then, seizing Crondas, and looking sternly and fixedly at the cowering fellow, the lord thundered:
"Now, confess your sin!"
Crondas grew more ghastly than before and, trying to control his voice, faltered out:
"I confess. Have mercy, my lord! I killed your brother because he threatened to tell you of my dishonesty toward you. I took his purse and ring, and hid them in this man's house, to make you think it was he who had sinned. I am the guilty one. Do with me as you will. Punish me in his place."
The lord did as Crondas had said, and the murderer suffered for his sin instead of the peasant, who was made steward in Crondas's place. No one pleaded for the guilty man's life, for he had been hard and cruel, and no man was his friend.
Now all the people of the country felt the good God himself had sent the little red lady-bug that it might teach the lord to administer justice. Since then everyone who sees such an insect takes care not to hurt it, and says:
"That is the insect beloved of God. Perhaps it is on its way now to help someone. I would not harm it, for my hand would be stained with blood."
And the story has been handed down from peasant to peasant, and is known throughout the whole of France.
And that is why the lady-bug is called in France "La petite bete au bon Dieu," which means "the little insect beloved of God"; and that is why everyone has reverence for it and loves it, and would not take its life.