A few weeks ago, as I was crossing a railroad track just outside of
the city, a little goat stepped before me. With a sad cry, she seemed
to ask me to stop. I turned aside to pass on, but she kept brushing
against me, until I finally decided to find out what she wanted.
The goat had wandered from her usual browsing place. In crossing the
railroad track she had caught her chain on a rail, and could not get
away. I stooped down and let her loose. Then she pressed against me as
if to thank me, and bounded off quickly to her old pasture.
If we would always listen to the cries of animals in distress, we
might do a great deal of good. Just after I had released the goat, a
train of cars came rushing along, and she would certainly have been
killed if I had not attended to her.