Young folks, who think themselves so wise,That old folks' counsel they despise,Will find, when they too late repent,Their folly prove their punishment.
Young folks, who think themselves so wise,That old folks' counsel they despise,Will find, when they too late repent,Their folly prove their punishment.
Alittlestarveling rogue of a Mouse had, with much pushing application, made his way through a small hole in a corn-basket, where he stuffed and crammed so plentifully, that, when he would have retired the way he came, he found himself too plump, with all his endeavours, to accomplish it. A Weasel, who stood at some distance, and had been diverting himself with beholding the vain efforts of the little fat thing, called to him, and said, "Harkee, honest friend; if you have a mind to make your escape, there is but one way for it: contrive to grow as poor and lean as you were when you entered, and then, perhaps, you may get off."
MORAL.
If evil habits have got a man into difficulties, there is no surer way to extricate himself than, by God's help, to cast those habits off.
An old Hound, who had been an excellent good one in his time, and given his master great sport and satisfaction in many a chase, at last, by the effect of years, became feeble and unserviceable.
However, being in the field one day when the Stag was almost run down, he happened to be the first that came in with him, and seized him by one of his haunches; but his decayed and broken teeth not being able to keep their hold, the deer escaped and threw him quite out. Upon which his master, being in a great passion, and going to strike him, the honest old creature is said to have barked out this apology. "Ah! do not strike your poor old servant; it is not my heart and inclination, but my strength and speed that fail me. If what I now am displeases you, pray don't forget what I have been."
MORAL.
Past services should never be forgotten.
The Horse, adorned with his great war-saddle, and champing his foaming bridle, came thundering along the way, and made the mountains echo with his loud, shrill neighing. He had not gone far before he overtook an Ass, who was labouring under a heavy burthen, and moving slowly on in the same track with himself. Immediately he called out to him, in a haughty, imperious tone, and threatened to trample him in the dirt, if he did not make way for him. The poor, patient Ass, not daring to dispute the matter, quietly got out of his way as fast as he could, and let him go by. Not long after this, the same Horse, in an engagement with the enemy, happened to be shot in the eye, which made him unfit for show or any military business; so he was stript of his fine ornaments, and sold to a carrier. The Ass, meeting him in this forlorn condition, thought that now it was his time to speak; and so, says he, "Heyday, friend, is it you? Well, I always believed that pride of yours would one day have a fall."
MORAL.
Pride and haughtiness are foreign to really great men. Those who show it, when in their high estate, if the wheel of fortune should change, instead of friendship or pity, will meet with nothing but contempt.
THE CHARGER AND THE ASS.THE CHARGER AND THE ASS.
Acolt, for blood and mettled speed,The choicest of the running breed,Of youthful strength and beauty vain,Refused subjection to the rein.In vain the groom's officious skillOpposed his pride, and checked his will;In vain the master's forming careRestrained with threats, or soothed with prayer:Of freedom proud, and scorning man,Wild o'er the spacious plain he ran.Where'er luxuriant Nature spreadHer flowery carpet o'er the mead,Or bubbling stream's soft gliding passTo cool and freshen up the grass,Disdaining bounds, he cropped the blade,And wantoned in the spoil he made.In plenty thus the summer passed;Revolving winter came at last:The trees no more a shelter yield;The verdure withers from the field:Perpetual snows invest the ground;In icy chains the streams are bound:Cold, nipping winds, and rattling hail,His lank, unsheltered sides assail.As round he cast his rueful eyes,He saw the thatched-roof cottage rise:The prospect touched his heart with cheer,And promised kind deliverance near.A stable, erst his scorn and hate,Was now become his wished retreat;His passion cool, his pride forgot,A Farmer's welcome yard he sought.The master saw his woful plight,His limbs, that tottered with his weight,And, friendly, to the stable led,And saw him littered, dressed, and fed.In slothful ease all night he lay;The servants rose at break of day;The market calls. Along the roadHis back must bear the pond'rous load;In vain he struggles or complains,Incessant blows reward his pains.To-morrow varies but his toil:Chained to the plough, he breaks the soil;While scanty meals at night repayThe painful labours of the day.Subdued by toil, with anguish rent,His self-upbraidings found a vent."Wretch that I am!" he sighing said,"By arrogance and folly led;Had but my restive youth been broughtTo learn the lesson nature taught,Then had I, like my sires of yore,The prize from every courser bore.Now, lasting servitude's my lot,My birth contemned, my speed forgot;Doomed am I, for my pride, to bearA living death from year to year."
Acolt, for blood and mettled speed,The choicest of the running breed,Of youthful strength and beauty vain,Refused subjection to the rein.
In vain the groom's officious skillOpposed his pride, and checked his will;In vain the master's forming careRestrained with threats, or soothed with prayer:Of freedom proud, and scorning man,Wild o'er the spacious plain he ran.
Where'er luxuriant Nature spreadHer flowery carpet o'er the mead,Or bubbling stream's soft gliding passTo cool and freshen up the grass,Disdaining bounds, he cropped the blade,And wantoned in the spoil he made.
In plenty thus the summer passed;Revolving winter came at last:The trees no more a shelter yield;The verdure withers from the field:Perpetual snows invest the ground;In icy chains the streams are bound:Cold, nipping winds, and rattling hail,His lank, unsheltered sides assail.
As round he cast his rueful eyes,He saw the thatched-roof cottage rise:The prospect touched his heart with cheer,And promised kind deliverance near.A stable, erst his scorn and hate,Was now become his wished retreat;His passion cool, his pride forgot,A Farmer's welcome yard he sought.
The master saw his woful plight,His limbs, that tottered with his weight,And, friendly, to the stable led,And saw him littered, dressed, and fed.In slothful ease all night he lay;The servants rose at break of day;The market calls. Along the roadHis back must bear the pond'rous load;
In vain he struggles or complains,Incessant blows reward his pains.To-morrow varies but his toil:Chained to the plough, he breaks the soil;While scanty meals at night repayThe painful labours of the day.
Subdued by toil, with anguish rent,His self-upbraidings found a vent."Wretch that I am!" he sighing said,"By arrogance and folly led;Had but my restive youth been broughtTo learn the lesson nature taught,Then had I, like my sires of yore,The prize from every courser bore.Now, lasting servitude's my lot,My birth contemned, my speed forgot;Doomed am I, for my pride, to bearA living death from year to year."
MORAL.
He who disdains control, will only gainA youth of pleasure for an age of pain.
He who disdains control, will only gainA youth of pleasure for an age of pain.
ALark, who had young ones in a field of corn almost ripe, was under some fear lest the reapers should come to reap it before her young brood was fledged and able to remove from that place. She, therefore, upon flying abroad to look for food, left this charge with them—to take notice what they heard talked of in her absence, and tell her of it when she came back again.
When she was gone, they heard the owner of the corn call to his son: "Well," says he, "I think this corn is ripe enough. I would have you go early to-morrow, and desire our friends and neighbours to come and help us to reap it." When the old Lark came home, the young ones fell a quivering and chirping round her, and told her what had happened, begging her to remove them as fast as she could. The mother bid them be easy: "For," said she, "if the owner depends on his friends and neighbours, I am pretty sure the corn will not be reaped to-morrow."
Next day, she went out again, leaving the same orders as before. The owner came, and staid, expecting his friends; but the sun grew hot, and nothing was done, for not a soul came to help them. Then says he to his son, "I perceivethese friends of ours are not to be depended upon; so you must go to your uncles and cousins, and tell them I desire they would be here betimes to-morrow morning, to help us to reap." Well, this the young ones, in a great fright, reported also to their mother. "If that be all," says she, "do not be frightened, dear children; for kindred and relations are not so very forward to serve one another; but take particular notice what you hear said next time, and be sure you let me know it."
She went abroad next day, as usual; and the owner, finding his relations as slack as the rest of his neighbours, said to his son, "Harkee, George; get a couple of good sickles ready against to-morrow morning, and we will even reap the corn ourselves." When the young ones told their mother this, "Then," said she, "we must be gone indeed; for, when a man undertakes to do his business himself, it is not so likely he will be disappointed." So she removed her young ones at once, and the corn was reaped next day by the good man and his son.
MORAL.
Never depend on the assistance of others. No business is so sure to be done as that which a man sets about doing himself.
ACrow, having taken a piece of cheese out of a cottage window, flew up with it into a high tree in order to eat it; which the Fox observing, came and sat underneath, and began to compliment the Crow upon the subject of her beauty. "I protest," says he, "I never observed it before, but your feathers are of a more delicate white than any that ever I saw in my life! Ah! what a fine shape and graceful turn of body is there! And I make no question but you have a tolerable voice. If it is but as fine as your complexion, I do not know a bird that can pretend to stand in competition with you." The Crow foolishly believed all that the Fox said was true; but, thinking the Fox a little dubious as to her vocal powers, and having a mind to set him right in that matter, opened her mouth, and, in the same instant, let the cheese drop out of her mouth. This being what the Fox wanted, he caught it up in a moment, and trotted away, laughing to himself at the easy credulity of the Crow.
MORAL.
When anyone is flattered as possessing qualities he ought to feel conscious he does not possess, let him beware lest the flatterers wish either to deprive him of some solid good, or to make him appear ridiculous in the eyes of others.
THE FOX AND THE CROWTHE FOX AND THE CROW
The Peacock presented a memorial to Juno, importing how hardly he thought he was used, in not having so good a voice as the Nightingale; how that bird was agreeable to every ear that heard it, while he was laughed at for his ugly, screaming noise, if he did but open his mouth.
The goddess, concerned at the uneasiness of her favourite bird, answered him very kindly to this purpose:—"If the Nightingale is blest with a fine voice, you have the advantage in point of beauty and size." "Ah!" says he, "but what avails my silent, unmeaning beauty, when I am so far excelled in voice?"
The goddess dismissed him, bidding him consider that the properties of every creature were appointed by the decree of Fate; to him beauty, to the Eagle strength, to the Nightingale a voice of melody, to the Parrot the faculty of speech, and to the Dove innocence; that each of these was contented with his own peculiar quality; and, unless he wished to be miserable, he must also learn to be equally satisfied.
MORAL.
The man who to his lot's resignedTrue happiness is sure to find;While envy ne'er can mend the ill,But makes us feel it keener still.
The man who to his lot's resignedTrue happiness is sure to find;While envy ne'er can mend the ill,But makes us feel it keener still.
AStag, roused from his thick covert in the midst of the forest, and driven hard by the hounds, made towards a farm-house, and, seeing the door of an ox-stall open, entered therein, and hid himself under a heap of straw. One of the oxen, turning his head about, asked him what he meant by venturing himself in such a place, where he was sure to meet his doom. "Ah!" said the Stag, "if you will but be so good as to favour me with your concealment, I hope I shall do well enough; I intend to make off again the first opportunity."
Well, he stayed there till towards night; in came the ox-man with a bundle of fodder, and never saw him. In short, all the servants of the farm came and went, and not one of them suspected anything of the matter. Nay, the bailiff himself came, according to form, and looked in, but walked away, no wiser than the rest. Upon this the Stag,ready to jump out of his skin for joy, began to return thanks to the good-natured Oxen, protesting that they were the most obliging people he had ever met with in his life.
After he had done his compliments, one of them answered him, gravely, "Indeed, we desire nothing more than to have it in our power to contribute to your escape, but there is a certain person you little think of who has a hundred eyes; if he should happen to come, I would not give this straw for your life."
In the meanwhile, home comes the master himself from a neighbour's, where he had been invited to dinner; and, because he had observed the cattle not look well of late, he went up to the rack, and asked why they did not give them more fodder; then, casting his eyes downward, "Heydey!" says he, "why so sparing of your litter? pray scatter a little more here. And these cobwebs—But I have spoken so often that, unless I do it myself—" Thus, as he went on, prying into everything, he chanced to look where the Stag's horns lay sticking out of the straw; upon which he raised a hue and cry, called his people about him, killed the Stag, and made a prize of him.
MORAL.
For a work to be done thoroughly, it ought to be done by oneself; the eye of a master is keener than that of a servant.
Adisputeonce arose betwixt the North Wind and the Sun about the superiority of their power; and they agreed to try their strength upon a traveller, which should be able to get off his cloak first.
The North Wind began, and blew a very cold blast, accompanied with a sharp, driving shower. But this, and whatever else he could do, instead of making the man quit his cloak, obliged him to gird it about his body as close as possible.
Next came the Sun, who, breaking out from the thick, watery cloud, drove away the cold vapours from the sky, and darted his warm, sultry beams upon the head of the poor weather-beaten traveller. The man, growing faint with the heat, and unable to endure it any longer, first throws off his heavy cloak, and then flies for protection to the shade of a neighbouring grove.
MORAL.
Soft and gentle means will often accomplish what force and fury can never effect.
Two men, being about to travel through a forest together, mutually promised to stand by each other in any danger they should meet on the way. They had not gone far when a Bear came rushing towards them out of a thicket; upon which, one, being a light, nimble fellow, got up into a tree. The other, falling flat upon his face, and holding his breath, lay still, while the Bear came up and smelled at him; but that creature, supposing him to be a dead carcass, went back to the wood without doing him the least harm. When all was over, the man who had climbed the tree came down to his companion, and, with a pleasant smile, asked what the Bear had said to him; "For," says he, "I took notice that he clapped his mouth very close to your ear." "Why," replied the other, "he charged me to take care, for the future, not to put any confidence in such cowardly rascals as you are."
MORAL.
Nothing is more common than to hear people profess friendship when there is no occasion for it; but he is a true friend who is ready to assist us in the time of danger and difficulty. Choose, therefore, friends whom you can depend on for such a time, and greatly value them.
Adog, crossing a small rivulet, with a piece of flesh in his mouth, which he had stolen from a butcher's shop, saw his own shadow represented in the clear mirror of the limpid stream; and, believing it to be another dog who was carrying another piece of flesh, he could not forbear catching at it, but was so far from getting anything by his greedy design, that he dropped the piece he had in his mouth, which immediately sank to the bottom, and was irrecoverably lost.
MORAL.
It is the just punishment of greediness to lose the substance by grasping at the shadow; while the man who would take what does not belong to him deserves to lose what he has.
THE DOG AND THE SHADOW.THE DOG AND THE SHADOW.
Onceon a time, a mountain BearLived in a forest drear, with no Bears near him;Fat, fierce, and sulky.Nor man nor other beast approached his lair;His neighbours all despise, or hate, or fear him.'Tis good to talk—to hold one's tongue—Though either in excess be wrong:Our hermit bulky,So shaggy, sullen, taciturn, and rude,Bear as he was, grew sick of solitude.At the same time, by chance, retiredFar from the world, a man advanced in age,But stout and healthy.Not with devotion's flame his heart was fired;Not prayer and fasting occupied the sage;Though on mankind he shut his door,No vows of poverty he swore:The wight was wealthy.But by some treacherous friend, or fair, betrayed,He lived with plants, and communed with his spade.High priest of Flora you might call him;Nor less was he the favourite of Pomona.But one day, walking,He found it dull; and should some ill befall him,In his sweet paradise, he felt alone,—Ah!For neither rose, nor pink, nor vine,Except in such a lay as mine,Are given to talking.His head old Time had now long years heaped many on;So he resolved to look for some companion.On this important expedition—But fearing his researches would be vain—The sage departed:Revolving deeply his forlorn condition,He slowly mused along a narrow lane;When on a sudden—unawares—A nose met his:—it was the Bear's!With fright he started.Fear is a common feeling: he that wise is,Although his fright be great, his fear disguises.Prudence suggested—"Stand your ground;'Tis hard to turn, and harder still to dash on."Prudence prevails.'Twixt kindred minds a sympathy is foundWhich lights up oft at sight a tender passion.Where sexes are of different kind;And oft 'twill ties of friendship bindBetween two males:These magic signs our hermits, at a glance, see:Each found he strongly pleased the other's fancy.Bruin at compliments was awkward,But was not long his sentiments in telling—"Old man, I like you!"The man replied, "Fair sir, you need not walk hard,In half an hour you'll reach my humble dwelling.I've milk, and various sorts of fruit,If any should your palate suit,Take what may strike you;On me it will confer the highest pleasureTo spread before you all my garden's treasure."On jogged the human Hermit with the Bear,Like smoking Germans, few words interlarding;Though little said,Finding their tempers suited to a hair,They grew firm friends before they reached the garden.Each took his task, their moods the same,One dug, the other hunted game,And often sped;And Bruin, o'er his friend a strict watch keeping,Chased off the flies that haunted him when sleeping.One afternoon, as in the sunThe weary Hermit took his usual nap,And at his postThe faithful Bear his daily work begun,Giving full many a brush and gentle slap,With a light whisp of herbs sweet-scented,And thus the teasing flies prevented,That buzzing host,From fixing on his sleeping patron's visage,Sunk in the deep repose so fit for his age.One blue-bottle his care defied;No place could please him but the old man's nose,Quite unabashed.The Bear, provoked, no means would leave untried;At last, a vigorous, certain mode, he chose:Extending wide his heavy paw,And thrusting hard each crooked claw,The fly was smashed:But his poor patron's face, so roughly patted,All streamed with blood, and smooth his nose was flatted.The Bear sneaked off to humble distance,Seeing the damage he had done his friend;Who raged with smart.But calling in philosophy's assistance,Anger, he thought, his wounds would never mend,So coolly said, "Farewell, friend Bruin!Since you have laid my face in ruin,'Tis time to part."
Onceon a time, a mountain BearLived in a forest drear, with no Bears near him;Fat, fierce, and sulky.Nor man nor other beast approached his lair;His neighbours all despise, or hate, or fear him.'Tis good to talk—to hold one's tongue—Though either in excess be wrong:Our hermit bulky,So shaggy, sullen, taciturn, and rude,Bear as he was, grew sick of solitude.
At the same time, by chance, retiredFar from the world, a man advanced in age,But stout and healthy.Not with devotion's flame his heart was fired;Not prayer and fasting occupied the sage;Though on mankind he shut his door,No vows of poverty he swore:The wight was wealthy.But by some treacherous friend, or fair, betrayed,He lived with plants, and communed with his spade.
High priest of Flora you might call him;Nor less was he the favourite of Pomona.But one day, walking,He found it dull; and should some ill befall him,In his sweet paradise, he felt alone,—Ah!For neither rose, nor pink, nor vine,Except in such a lay as mine,Are given to talking.His head old Time had now long years heaped many on;So he resolved to look for some companion.
On this important expedition—But fearing his researches would be vain—The sage departed:Revolving deeply his forlorn condition,He slowly mused along a narrow lane;When on a sudden—unawares—A nose met his:—it was the Bear's!With fright he started.Fear is a common feeling: he that wise is,Although his fright be great, his fear disguises.
Prudence suggested—"Stand your ground;'Tis hard to turn, and harder still to dash on."Prudence prevails.'Twixt kindred minds a sympathy is foundWhich lights up oft at sight a tender passion.
Where sexes are of different kind;And oft 'twill ties of friendship bindBetween two males:These magic signs our hermits, at a glance, see:Each found he strongly pleased the other's fancy.
Bruin at compliments was awkward,But was not long his sentiments in telling—"Old man, I like you!"The man replied, "Fair sir, you need not walk hard,In half an hour you'll reach my humble dwelling.I've milk, and various sorts of fruit,If any should your palate suit,Take what may strike you;On me it will confer the highest pleasureTo spread before you all my garden's treasure."
On jogged the human Hermit with the Bear,Like smoking Germans, few words interlarding;Though little said,Finding their tempers suited to a hair,They grew firm friends before they reached the garden.Each took his task, their moods the same,One dug, the other hunted game,And often sped;And Bruin, o'er his friend a strict watch keeping,Chased off the flies that haunted him when sleeping.
One afternoon, as in the sunThe weary Hermit took his usual nap,And at his postThe faithful Bear his daily work begun,Giving full many a brush and gentle slap,With a light whisp of herbs sweet-scented,And thus the teasing flies prevented,That buzzing host,From fixing on his sleeping patron's visage,Sunk in the deep repose so fit for his age.
One blue-bottle his care defied;No place could please him but the old man's nose,Quite unabashed.The Bear, provoked, no means would leave untried;At last, a vigorous, certain mode, he chose:Extending wide his heavy paw,And thrusting hard each crooked claw,The fly was smashed:But his poor patron's face, so roughly patted,All streamed with blood, and smooth his nose was flatted.
The Bear sneaked off to humble distance,Seeing the damage he had done his friend;Who raged with smart.But calling in philosophy's assistance,Anger, he thought, his wounds would never mend,So coolly said, "Farewell, friend Bruin!Since you have laid my face in ruin,'Tis time to part."
MORAL.
All those must such mishaps expect to share,Who, for a friend, think fit to take a Bear.
All those must such mishaps expect to share,Who, for a friend, think fit to take a Bear.
AcertainShepherd's Boy, who kept sheep upon a common, in sport and wantonness would often cry out, "The Wolf! the Wolf!" By this means, he several times drew the husbandmen in an adjoining field from their work; who, finding themselves deluded, resolved for the future to take no notice of his alarm. Soon after the Wolf came indeed. The boy cried out in earnest; but no heed being given to his cries, the sheep were devoured by the Wolf.
MORAL.
The notorious liar, besides the sin of the thing, will not be believed when, by chance, he tells the truth.
AHindwas one day stamping with her foot, and bellowing so loudly that the whole herd quaked for fear, when one of her little Fawns, coming up to her, said, "Mother, what is the reason that you, who are so strong and bold at all other times, if you do but hear the cry of the hounds, are so afraid of them?" "What you say is true," replied the Hind; "though I know not how to account for it. I am, indeed, vigorous and strong enough, and often resolve that nothing shall ever dismay my courage; but, alas! I no sooner hear the voice of a hound than all my spirits fail me, and I cannot help making off as fast as my legs can carry me."
MORAL.
When we have done all, Nature will remain what she was. There is no arguing a coward into courage.
THE FAWN AND HER MOTHER.THE FAWN AND HER MOTHER.
The Tortoise, weary of his condition, by which he was confined to creep upon the ground, and being ambitious to have a prospect, and look about him, gave out that, if any bird would take him up into the air, and show him the world, he would reward him with the discovery of many precious stones, which he knew were hidden in a certain part of the earth.
The Eagle undertook to do as he desired, and, when he had performed his commission, demanded the reward. But, finding the Tortoise could not make good his words, he stuck his talons into the softer parts of his body, and made him a sacrifice to his revenge.
MORAL.
He that, to secure an advantage, deceives his friend by an untruth, will surely suffer for it when he is detected.
AcertainMan had two children, a Son and a Daughter—the Boy handsome enough, the Girl not quite so comely. They were both very young, and happened one day to be playing near the looking-glass, which stood on their mother's toilet. The Boy, pleased with the novelty of the thing, viewed himself for some time, and in a wanton, roguish manner observed to the Girl how handsome he was. She resented the insult, and ran immediately to her father, and, with a great deal of aggravation, complained of her brother, particularly for having acted so effeminate a part as to look in a glass, and meddle with things which belong to women only. The father, embracing them both with much tenderness and affection, told them that he should like to have them both look in the glass every day; "To the intent that you," says he to the Boy, "if you think that face of yours handsome, may not disgrace and spoil it by an ugly temper and a bad behaviour; and that you," added he, addressing the Girl, "may make up for the defects of your person by the sweetness of your manners and the excellence of your understanding."
MORAL.
A well-informed mind is better than a handsome person.
AWolf, with hunger fierce and bold,Ravaged the plains, and thinned the fold;Deep in the wood secure he lay,The thefts of night regaled the day.In vain the shepherd's wakeful careHad spread the toils, and watched the snare;In vain the Dog pursued his pace,The fleeter robber mocked the chase.As Lightfoot ranged the forest round,By chance his foe's retreat he found:"Let us awhile the war suspend,And reason as from friend to friend.""A truce!" replies the Wolf. 'Tis done.The Dog the parley thus begun:—"How can that strong, intrepid mindAttack a weak, defenceless kind?Those jaws should prey on nobler food,And drink the boar's and lion's blood;Great souls with generous pity melt,Which coward tyrants never felt.How harmless is our fleecy care!Be brave, and let thy mercy spare.""Friend," says the Wolf, "the matter weigh:Nature designed us beasts of prey;As such, when hunger finds a treat,'Tis necessary Wolves should eat.If, mindful of the bleating weal,Thy bosom burn with real zeal,Hence, and thy tyrant lord beseech;To him repeat the moving speech.A Wolf eats sheep but now and then;Ten thousands are devoured by men."
AWolf, with hunger fierce and bold,Ravaged the plains, and thinned the fold;Deep in the wood secure he lay,The thefts of night regaled the day.In vain the shepherd's wakeful careHad spread the toils, and watched the snare;In vain the Dog pursued his pace,The fleeter robber mocked the chase.
As Lightfoot ranged the forest round,By chance his foe's retreat he found:"Let us awhile the war suspend,And reason as from friend to friend.""A truce!" replies the Wolf. 'Tis done.The Dog the parley thus begun:—
"How can that strong, intrepid mindAttack a weak, defenceless kind?Those jaws should prey on nobler food,And drink the boar's and lion's blood;Great souls with generous pity melt,Which coward tyrants never felt.How harmless is our fleecy care!Be brave, and let thy mercy spare."
"Friend," says the Wolf, "the matter weigh:Nature designed us beasts of prey;As such, when hunger finds a treat,'Tis necessary Wolves should eat.If, mindful of the bleating weal,Thy bosom burn with real zeal,Hence, and thy tyrant lord beseech;To him repeat the moving speech.A Wolf eats sheep but now and then;Ten thousands are devoured by men."
MORAL.
An open foe may prove a curse,But a pretended friend is worse.
An open foe may prove a curse,But a pretended friend is worse.
Apoorcovetous wretch, who had scraped together a good parcel of money, went and dug a hole in one of his fields and hid it. The great pleasure of his life was to go and look upon this treasure once a day at least; which one of his servants observing, and guessing there was something more than ordinary in the place, came at night, found it, and carried it off. The next day, returning as usual to the scene of his delight, and perceiving it had been stolen away from him, he tore his hair for grief, and uttered the doleful complaints of his despair to the woods and meadows. At last, a neighbour of his, who knew his temper, overhearing him, and being informed of the occasion of his sorrow, "Cheer up, man!" says he, "thou has lost nothing; there is the hole for thee to go and peep at still; and if thou canst but fancy thy money there, it will do just as well."
MORAL.
Money, well used, has its full value; but when allowed to lie useless to others or to one's self, it possesses no more value than a heap of oyster shells. Avarice is, therefore, a silly as well as a sinful vice. Use your wealth in doing good, and its highest value will be attained.
Aharetwitted a Tortoise on account of his slowness, and vainly boasted of her own great speed in running. "Let us make a match," replied the Tortoise: "I'll run with you five miles for five pounds, and the Fox yonder shall be the umpire of the race." The Hare agreed, and away they both started together. But the Hare, by reason of her exceeding swiftness, outran the Tortoise to such a degree that she made a jest of the matter, and, finding herself a little tired, squatted in a tuft of fern that grew by the way, and took a nap, thinking that, if the Tortoise went by, she could at any time catch him up with all the ease imaginable. In the meanwhile the Tortoise came jogging on, with a slow but continued motion; and the Hare, out of a too great security and confidence of victory, oversleeping herself, the Tortoise arrived at the end of the race first.
MORAL.
Industry and application will, in most cases, do more than quick and ready wit. The highest genius, without industry, will generally fail of any great exploit.
THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE.THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE.
Onemoonshiny night,With a great appetite,A Hog feasted on Acorns with all his might:Quite pleased with his prizeBoth in taste and in size,While he ate he devoured the rest with his eyes.You know, I'm in joke,When I say that the oak,Moved aboughto the grunter before she spoke;But you know, too, in fable,We feel ourselves ableTo make anything speak—tree, flower, or table.Said the Oak, looking big,"I think, Mr. Pig,You might thank me for sending you fruit from my twig;But, you ill-behaved Hog!You devour the prog,And have no better manners, I think, than a dog."He replied, looking up,Though not ceasing to sup,Till the Acorns were eaten—ay, every cup—"I acknowledge, to youMy thanks would be due,If from feelings of kindness my supper you threw."To-morrow, good dame,Give my children the same,And then you, with justice, may gratitude claim."
Onemoonshiny night,With a great appetite,A Hog feasted on Acorns with all his might:Quite pleased with his prizeBoth in taste and in size,While he ate he devoured the rest with his eyes.
You know, I'm in joke,When I say that the oak,Moved aboughto the grunter before she spoke;But you know, too, in fable,We feel ourselves ableTo make anything speak—tree, flower, or table.
Said the Oak, looking big,"I think, Mr. Pig,You might thank me for sending you fruit from my twig;But, you ill-behaved Hog!You devour the prog,And have no better manners, I think, than a dog."
He replied, looking up,Though not ceasing to sup,Till the Acorns were eaten—ay, every cup—"I acknowledge, to youMy thanks would be due,If from feelings of kindness my supper you threw.
"To-morrow, good dame,Give my children the same,And then you, with justice, may gratitude claim."
MORAL.
He merits no praiseTo the end of his days,Who to those who surround him no service conveys.
He merits no praiseTo the end of his days,Who to those who surround him no service conveys.
An honest, plain, sensible country Mouse is said to have entertained at his hole one day a fine Mouse of the town. Having formerly been playfellows together, they were old acquaintances, which served as an apology for the visit.However, as master of the house, he thought himself obliged to do the honours of it, in all respects, and to make as great a stranger of his guest as he possibly could. In order to this, he set before him a reserve of delicate grey pease and bacon, a dish of fine oatmeal, some parings of new cheese, and, to crown all with a dessert, a remnant of a charming mellow apple.
In good manners, he forebore to eat any of it himself, lest the stranger should not have enough; but, that he might seem to bear the other company, sat and nibbled a piece of wheaten straw very busily. At last, says the spark of the town, "Old croney, give me leave to be a little free with you. How can you bear to live in this nasty, dirty, melancholy hole here, with nothing but woods and meadows, mountains and rivulets about you? Do you not prefer the busy world to the chirping of birds, and the splendour of a court to the rude aspect of an uncultivated desert? Come, take my word for it, you will find it a change for the better. Stand not considering, but away this moment. Remember, we are not immortal, and therefore have no time to lose. Make sure of to-day, and spend it as agreeably as you can; you know not what may happen to-morrow."
In short, these and such like arguments prevailed, and his country friend was resolved to go to town that night. So they both set out upon their journey, proposing to sneakin after the close of the evening. They did so, and about midnight made their entry into a certain great house, where there had been an extraordinary entertainment the day before, and several tit-bits, which some of the servants had purloined, were hid under a seat of a window. The country guest was immediately placed in the midst of a rich Persian carpet; and now it was the courtier's turn to entertain, who, indeed, acquitted himself in that capacity with the utmost readiness and address, changing the courses as elegantly, and tasting everything first as judiciously, as any clerk of the kitchen. The other sat and enjoyed himself like a delighted epicure, tickled to the last degree with this new turn of his affairs; when, on a sudden, a noise of somebody opening the door made them start from their seats and scuttle in confusion about the dining-room. Our country friend, in particular, was ready to die with fear at the barking of a huge Mastiff or two, which opened their throats just about the same time, and made the whole house echo.
At last, recovering himself, "Well," says he, "if this be your town life, much good may you do with it; give me my poor, quiet hole again, with my homely but comfortable grey pease."
MORAL.
Poverty and safety are preferable to luxury and danger.
Acertainhouse was much infested with Mice; but at last they got a Cat, who caught and ate every day some of them. The Mice, finding their numbers grow thin, consulted what was best to be done for the preservation of the public from the jaws of the devouring Cat. They debated and came to this resolution, that no one should go down below the upper shelf.
The Cat, observing the Mice no longer came down as usual, hungry and disappointed of her prey, had recourse to this stratagem:—She hung by her hind legs on a peg which stuck in the wall, and made as if she had been dead, hoping by this lure to entice the Mice to come down. She had not been in this posture long before a cunning old Mouse peeped over the edge of the shelf, and spoke thus:—"Ha! ha! my good friend, are you there? There you may be! I would not trust myself with you, though your skin were stuffed with straw."
MORAL.
They that are wise will never trust those a second time who have deceived them once.
AKid, being mounted upon the roof of a lofty shed, and seeing a Wolf below, loaded him with all manner of reproaches. Upon which, the Wolf, looking up, replied, "Do not vaunt yourself, vain creature, and think you mortify me; for I look upon this ill language as not coming from you, but from the place that protects you."
MORAL.
To rail or give bad language is wrong at all times; but when a man is protected by circumstances, it is cowardly, as well as wrong. The man who then uses it becomes a fit object of contempt to him that he reviles.