The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1884-10-11
THE sToRK,s REVENGE.

yERsIFIED FROM RsoP's FABLES.
| There was Fox lived on the hill,
| A Lady Fog
| With reddish locks
| And there was Stork lived by the mill;
| And one was idle and fat and gay,
| And knew how cunning trick to play,
| While the other was long and lean Away.
Gay Lady Fox lived by her wit,
But her friend, the Stork.
Was forced to work,
| And tedious time he had oft;
| For the little green frogs were qulck to leap
| And the shoals of minnows swift to sweep
| Out of the shadows into the deep.
The Fox on high-perched stately shelf
Close to her den,
| Was now and then.
! Wont to lie down and gun herself,
| Only the wind her habit knew,
| And up to her slender muzzle blew
! The ssccent of the grass-felds and tsne dew,
! And up to her ears, SO keen to hear,
| On ready wing
| Brought everything
/ OF news, and sounds from far and near
/ The tree-toad's chirr the plowboy's IS strain,
The bay of the hound and his hlndeflne
chain.
| While the hillside echo bayed again.
| And there was much for her eyes to see.
l. From the hazy blue
| Of mountains to
| The nearer grace of rock and tree;
| One lone, gaunt figure always met
| Her gaze, knee-deep IN sedge and wet.
The Stork She unused, that from the peep
| OF dawn till noon,
And from noon till moon,
He was always standing there knee-deep
SO, once she sent small gray Bee
With massage worded graclousiy:
Dear friend, pray dine to-day with me"
She made a soup. The breast of a wren,
A robin egg,
A sparToW's 8 leg,
And the whole of the little fat red hen.
She boiled together, with sprig of rue,
With thyme and anlse and onion. too,
And salt-just q pinch of salt would DO.
and, seasoned thus in skillful way
She stirred it well.
TIL the Stork could smell
The steam from it half a mile away.
50. when the gray Bee buzzing near
Droned her kind message in her ear.
His heart leapt glad and light to hear.
Out he stepped from the mud and ooze.
With eager speed
Through rush and reed,
And away he stalked IN his scarlet shoes,
That savory smell his footsteps led;
And there was the Fo1's table spread;
And the pot was boiling fast, she said.
Two large fiat plates were on the board
And, the stew completed,
They soon were seated,
And from gourd- -ladle the mees was poured.
Then out OF her wide and shallow pan
The Fox with little red tongue began
To lap, lap, lap, as foxes can
But the Stork could only touch the tip
OF his long bill In;
The soup was thin,
And try as he would, he could only sip.
And while with relish his hostess ate
Saucers full platters full, plate on plate,
He sat, half-starved, disconsolate.
What dinner it was. food drop by drop
just taste enough
OF the toothsome stuff
To make him Enger and loath to stop.
And he bitterly sighed: " 1t may be fit.
Fine way for lady to show her wit,
But / III be even with her for it."
And the time came soon; one day he sent
By messenger
a note to her
Of f1attering flourish and compliment:
Come down to the fen from your lofty
And brig, Brighten my marsh with your sun-red
And feast with me, dear Lady Fox
Swift-footed adown the hill she crept,
russell shadow
Along the meadow,
The grass scarce rustling where she stepped.
She found at the Stork's the table out;
a chowder bubbled: a speckled trout
Hoped IN the frying-pan about.
And what whare the dishes, do you suppose?
Why, ewers and jugs,
And bottles and mugs,
Each one with narrow neck and nose.
And the Lady Fox she looked askance.
With q half dismayed, uneasy glance,
And a gathering cloud on her countenance.
For how could lady eat-dear mel
From pitchers SO tall,
With necks So small.
And the chowder so deep within, you see?
She could pick bone, or rob nest;
She would steal the bait from q trap with
Zest;
But here she was baf1ed, she confessed.
She shifted in this jar, peered in that;
She smiled, she simpered,
She even whimpered,
But the Stork as grave as deacon sat.
And ate. by thrusting his long bill
Way down to the pottage and pudding until
He had eaten all-had had his fill.
Slow-footed the poor Fox homeward crept,
A russet shadow
Along the meadow,
The weed scarce rustling where she stepped.
And hungry she went to bed that night
Muttering: The Stork was not polite.
But he served me right-he served me right! -
Mrs Clara Doty Bates, in Wide A1raEe.
Tpo MoCul1ouph tho nota1 actor IL m