The Nomad of the Nine Lives
I made a few good friends, some of whom I have kept to this day. I remember that I learned to shun boys, for they were apt to throw stones. How they can be so cruel I cannot understand. If they realized how the stones cut and sting, they would never use them for missiles and us for targets. I nursed a wound on my hip bone for weeks, which was very painful and was caused by a boy hitting me with a sharp stone. What satisfaction can it be to them? Harming a defenseless animal can surely give none, but it always seems a great temptation to them to do so. Once I saw a group of small boys stoning a kitten which they had tied to a raft. I was glad when a big policeman caught them at it. Dogs and boys were the only drawback to what was otherwise a perfect life, and a lazily lounging about one; first a feast and then a famine.
No matter how intense were the pangs of hunger, I followed mother's advice and never ate sparrows or any other birds.
About this time I made the ac