A short time after the Eagle found the owlets in a hollow tree.
"These hideous little staring frights, at any rate, cannot be neighbour Owl's delicious pets," said the Eagle; "so I may make away with them without the least misgiving."
The Owl, finding her young ones gone, loaded the Eagle with reproaches.
"Nay," answered the Eagle, "blame yourself rather than me. If you paint with such flattering colours, it is not my fault if I do not recognize your portraits."
The Buffoon and the Countryman
On the occasion of some festivities that were given by a Roman nobleman, a Merry-Andrew of a fellow caused much laughter by his tricks upon the stage, and, more than all, by his imitation of the squeaking of a Pig, which seemed to the hearers so real that they called for it again and again.
A Countryman, however, in the audience, thought the imitation was not perfect; and he made his way to the stage and said that, if he were permitted, he to-morrow would enter the lists and squeak against the Merry-Andrew for a wager.
The mob, anticipating great fun, shouted their consent, and accordingly, when the next day came, the two rival jokers were in their places.
The hero of the previous day went first, and the hearers, more pleased than ever, fairly roared with delight.
Then came the turn of the Countryman, who having a Pig carefully concealed under his cloak, so that no one would have suspected its existence, vigorously pinched its ear with his thumbnail, and made it squeak with a vengeance.
"Not half as good—not half as good!" cried the audience, and many among them even began to hiss.
"Fine judges you!" replied the Countryman, rushing to the front of the stage, drawing the Pig from under his cloak, and holding the animal up on high. "Behold the performer that you condemn!"
The Old Man, His Son, and the Ass
An Old Man and his Little Boy were once driving an Ass before them to the next market-town, where it was to be sold.
"Have you no more wit," said a passerby, "than for you and your Son to trudge on foot and let your Ass go light?" So the Man put his Boy on the Ass, and they went on again.
"You lazy young rascal!" cried the next person they met; "are you not ashamed to ride and let your poor old Father go on foot?" The Man then lifted off the Boy and got up himself.
Two women passed soon after, and one said to the other, "Look at that selfish old fellow, riding along while his little Son follows after on foot!" The Old Man thereupon took up the Boy behind him.
The next traveller they met asked the Old Man whether or not the Ass was his own. Being answered that it was: "No one would think so," said he, "from the way in which you use it. Why, you are better able to carry the poor animal than he is to carry both of you."
So the Old Man tied the Ass's legs to a long pole, and he and his Son shouldered the pole and staggered along under the weight. In that fashion they entered the town, and their appearance caused so much laughter that the Old Man, mad with vexation at the result of his endeavours to give satisfaction to everybody, threw the Ass into the river and seizing his Son by the arm went his way home again.
The Lion, the Bear, the Monkey, and the Fox
The Tyrant of the Forest issued a proclamation commanding all his subjects to repair immediately to his royal den.
Among the rest, the Bear made his appearance, but pretending to be offended with the odour which issued from the Monarch's apartments, be was imprudent enough to hold his nose in his Majesty's presence.
This insolence was so highly resented that the Lion in a rage laid him dead at his feet.
The Monkey, observing what had passed, trembled for his skin, and attempted to conciliate favour by the most abject flattery. He began with protesting that, for his part, he thought the apartments were perfumed with Arabian spices; and, exclaiming against the rudeness of the Bear, admired the beauty of his Majesty's paws, so happily formed, he said, to correct the insolence of clowns.
This adulation, instead of being received as he expected, proved no less offensive than the rudeness of the Bear, and the courtly Monkey was in like manner extended by the side of Sir Bruin.
And now his Majesty cast his eye upon the Fox.
"Well, Reynard," Said he, "and what scent do you discover here?"
"Great Prince," replied the cautious Fox, "my nose was never esteemed my most distinguishing sense; and at present I would by no means venture to give my opinion, as I have unfortunately caught a terrible cold."
The Wolf and the Lamb
A flock of Sheep was feeding in the meadow while the Dogs were asleep, and the Shepherd at a distance playing on his pipe beneath the shade of a spreading elm.
A young, inexperienced Lamb, observing a half-starved Wolf peering through the pales of the fence, began to talk with him.
"Pray, what are you seeking for here?" said the Lamb.
"I am looking," replied the Wolf, "for some tender grass; for nothing, you know, is more pleasant than to feed in a fresh pasture, and to slake one's thirst at a crystal stream, both which I perceive you enjoy within these pales in their utmost perfection. Happy creature," continued he, "how much I envy you who have everything which I desire, for philosophy has long taught me to be satisfied with a little!"
"It seems, then," returned the Lamb, "those who say you feed on flesh accuse you falsely, since a little grass will easily content you. If this be true, let us for the future live like brethren, and feed together." So saying, the simple Lamb crept through the fence, and at once became a prey to the pretended philosopher, and a sacrifice to his own inexperience and credulity.
The Chameleon
Two Travellers happened on their journey to be engaged in a warm dispute about the colour of the Chameleon. One of them affirmed that it was blue and that he had seen it with his own eyes upon the naked branch of a tree, feeding in the air on a very clear day.
The other strongly asserted it was green, and that he had viewed it very closely and minutely upon the broad leaf of a fig-tree.
Both of them were positive, and the dispute was rising to a quarrel; but a third person luckily coming by, they agreed to refer the question to his decision.
"Gentlemen," said the Arbitrator, with a smile of great self-satisfaction, "you could not have been more lucky in your reference, as I happen to have caught one of them last night; but, indeed, you are both mistaken, for the creature is totally black."
"Black, impossible!" cried both the disputants!"
"Nay," quoth the Umpire, with great assurance, "the matter may be soon decided, for I immediately inclosed my Chameleon in a little paper box, and here it is." So saying, he drew it out of his pocket, opened his box, and, lo! it was as white as snow.
The Travellers looked equally surprised and equally confounded; while the sagacious reptile, assuming the air of a philosopher, thus admonished them: "Ye children of men, learn diffidence and moderation in your opinions. 'Tis true, you happen in this present instance to be all in the right, and have only considered the subject under different circumstances, but, pray, for the future allow others to have eyesight as well as yourselves; nor wonder if every one prefers to accept the testimony of his own senses."
The Eagle, the Jackdaw, and the Magpie
The kingly Eagle kept his court with all the formalities of sovereign state, and was duly attended by all his plumed subjects in their highest feathers.
These solemn assemblies, however, were frequently disturbed by the impertinent conduct of two, who assumed the importance of high-fliers; these were no other than the Jackdaw and the Magpie, who were forever contending for precedence which neither of them would give up to the other.
The contest ran so high that at length they mutually agreed to appeal to the sovereign Eagle for his decision in this momentous affair.
The Eagle gravely answered that he did not wish to make an invidious distinction by deciding to the advantage of either party, but would give them a rule by which they might determine between themselves; "for," added he, "the greater fool of the two shall in future always take precedence, but which of you it may be, yourselves must settle."
The Boy and the Filberts
A Boy once thrust his hand into a pitcher which was full of figs and filberts.
He grasped as many as his fist could possibly hold, but when he tried to draw it out the narrowness of the neck prevented him.
Not liking to lose any of them, but unwilling to draw out his hand, he burst into tears and bitterly bemoaned his hard fortune.
An honest fellow who stood by gave him this wise and reasonable advice:"Take only half as many, my boy, and you will easily get them."
The Passenger and the Pilot
In a violent storm at sea, the whole crew of a vessel was in imminent danger of shipwreck.
After the rolling of the waves was somewhat abated, a certain Passenger, who had never been at sea before, observing the Pilot to have appeared wholly unconcerned, even in their greatest danger, had the curiosity to ask him what death his father died.
"What death?" said the Pilot, "Why, he perished at sea, as my grandfather did before him."
"And are you not afraid of trusting yourself to an element that has proved thus fatal to your family?"
"Afraid? By no means; why, we must all die; is not your father dead?"
"Yes, but he died in his bed."
"And why, then, are you not afraid of trusting yourself to your bed?"
"Because I am perfectly secure there."
"It may be so," replied the Pilot; "but if the hand of Providence is equally extended over all places, there is no more reason for me to be afraid of going to sea than for you to be afraid of going to bed."
The Dog and the Crocodile
A Dog, running along the banks of the Nile, grew thirsty, but fearing to be seized by the monsters of that river, he would not stop to satiate his drought, but lapped as he ran.
A Crocodile, raising his head above the surface of the water, asked him why he was in such a hurry. He had often, he said, wished for his acquaintance, and should be glad to embrace the present opportunity.
"You do me great honour," said the Dog, "but it is to avoid such companions as you that I am in so much haste!"
A Matter of Arbitration
Two Cats, having stolen some cheese, could not agree about dividing the prize. In order, therefore, to settle the dispute, they consented to refer the matter to a Monkey.
The proposed Arbitrator very readily accepted the office, and, producing a balance, put a part into each scale. "Let me see," said he, "aye—this lump outweighs the other"; and immediately bit off a considerable piece in order to reduce it, he observed, to an equilibrium. The opposite scale was now heavier, which afforded our conscientious judge a reason for a second mouthful.
"Hold, hold," said the two Cats, who began to be alarmed for the event, "give us our shares and we are satisfied." "If you are satisfied," returned the Monkey, "justice is not; a cause of this intricate nature is by no means so soon determined." Upon which he continued to nibble first one piece then the other, till the poor Cats, seeing their cheese rapidly diminishing, entreated to give himself no further trouble, but to deliver to them what remained.
"Not so fast, I beseech ye, friends," replied the Monkey; "we owe justice to ourselves as well as to you. What remains is due to me in right of my office."
Thus saying, he crammed the whole into his mouth, and with great gravity dismissed the court.
The Crow and the Mussel
A Crow having found a Mussel on the seashore; took it in his beak and tried for a long time to break the shell by hammering it upon a stone.
Another Crow—a sly old fellow—came and watched him for some time in silence.
"Friend," said he at last, "you'll never break it in that way. Listen to me. This is the way to do it: Fly up as high as you can, and let the tiresome thing fall upon a rock. It will be smashed then sure enough, and you can eat it at your leisure."
The simple-minded and unsuspecting Crow did as he was told, flew up and let the Mussel fall.
Before he could descend to eat it, however, the other bird had pounced upon it and carried it away.
The Ass and His Purchaser
A Man wished to purchase an Ass, and agreed with his owner that he should try him before he bought him. He took the Ass home, and put him in the straw-yard with his other asses, upon which the beast left all the others and joined himself at once to the most idle and the greatest eater of them all.
The Man put a halter on him, and led him back to his owner: and when he was asked how, in so short a time, he could have made a trial of him, "I do not need," he answered, "a trial; I know that he will be just such another as the one whom of all the rest he chose for his companion."
A Country Fellow and the River
A stupid Boy, who was sent to market by the good old woman, his Mother, to sell butter and cheese, made a stop by the way at a swift river, and laid himself down on the bank there, until it should run out.
About midnight, home he went to his Mother, with all his market trade back again.
"Why, how now, my Son?" said she. "What ill fortune have you had, that you have sold nothing all day?"
"Why, Mother, yonder is a river that has been running all this day, and I stayed till just now, waiting for it to run out; and there it is, running still."
"My Son," said the good woman, "thy head and mine will be laid in the grave many a day before this river has all run by. You will never sell your butter and cheese if you wait for that."
The Playful Ass
An Ass climbed up to the roof of a building and, frisking about there, broke in the tiling. His Master went up after him, and quickly drove him down, beating him severely with a thick wooden cudgel.
The Ass then cried out in astonishment, "Why, I saw the monkey do this very thing yesterday, and you all laughed heartily, as if it afforded you great amusement!"
The Boys and the Frogs
Some idle boys, playing near a pond, saw a number of Frogs in the water, and began to pelt them with stones. They had killed several of them, when one of the Frogs, lifting his head out of the water, cried out: "Pray stop, my Boys: you forget that what is sport to you is death to us!"
The Camel and His Master
One night a Camel looked into the tent where his Master was lying and said: "Kind Master, will you not let me put my head inside of the door? The wind blows very cold to-night."
"Oh, yes," said the Man. "There is plenty of room."
So the Camel moved forward and stretched his head into the tent. "Ah!" he said, "this is what I call comfort."
In a little while he called to his Master again. "Now if I could only warm my neck also," he said.
"Then put your neck inside," said his Master, kindly. "You will not be in my way."
The Camel did so, and for a time was very well contented. Then, looking around, he said: "If I could only put my forelegs inside I should feel a great deal better."
His Master moved a little and said: "You may put your forelegs and shoulders inside, for I know that the wind blows cold to-night."
The Camel had hardly planted his forefeet within the tent when he spoke again:
"Master," he said, "I keep the tent open by standing here. I think I ought to go wholly within."
"Yes, come in," said the Man. "There is hardly room for us both, but I do not want to keep you out in the cold."
So the Camel crowded into the tent, but he was no sooner inside than he said: "You were right when you said that there was hardly room for us both. I think it would be better for you to stand outside and so give me a chance to turn around and lie down."
Then, without more ado, he rudely pushed the Man out at the door, and took the whole tent for himself.
The Flies and the Honey-pot
A jar of Honey having been upset in a housekeeper's room, a number of Flies were attracted by its sweetness, and placing their feet in it ate it greedily.
Their feet, however, became so smeared with the Honey that they could not use their wings, nor release themselves, and so were suffocated.
Just as they were expiring, they exclaimed, "O foolish creatures that we are; for the sake of a little pleasure we have destroyed ourselves!"
The Spectacles
Jupiter, one day, enjoying himself over a bowl of nectar, and in a merry humour, determined to make mankind a present.
Momus was appointed to convey it, who, mounted on a rapid car, was presently on earth. "Come hither," said he, "ye happy mortals; great Jupiter has opened for your benefit his all-gracious hands. 'Tis true he made you somewhat short-sighted, but, to remedy that inconvenience, behold now he has favoured you!"
So saying, he opened his portmanteau, when an infinite number of spectacles tumbled out, and were picked up by the crowd with all the eagerness imaginable. There were enough for all, for every man had his pair.
But it was soon found that these spectacles did not represent objects to all mankind alike; for one pair was purple, another blue; one was white and another black; some of the glasses were red, some green, and some yellow. In short, there were all manner of colours, and every shade of colour. However, notwithstanding this diversity, every man was charmed with his own, as believing it the best, and enjoyed in opinion all the satisfaction of truth.
The Bear and the Fowls
A Bear, who was bred in the savage desert, wished to see the world, and he travelled from forest to forest, and from one kingdom to another, making many profound observations on his way.
One day he came by accident into a farmer's yard, where he saw a number of Fowls standing to drink by the side of a pool. Observing that after every sip they turned up their heads toward the sky, he could not forbear inquiring the reason of so peculiar a ceremony.
They told him that it was by way of returning thanks to Heaven for the benefits they received; and was indeed an ancient and religious custom, which they could not, with a safe conscience, or without impiety, omit.
Here the Bear burst into a fit of laughter, at once mimicking their gestures, and ridiculing their superstition, in a most contemptuous manner.
On this the Cock, with a spirit suitable to the boldness of his character, addressed him in the following words: "As you are a stranger, sir, you may perhaps be excused for the indecency of your behaviour; yet give me leave to tell you that none but a Bear would ridicule any religious ceremonies in the presence of those who believe them of importance."
"In English now they teach us wit. In English now they say:Ye men, come learn of beasts to live, to rule and to obey,To guide you wisely in the world, to know to shun deceit,To fly the crooked paths of guile, to keep your doings straight."
The Snake and the Sparrows
It is related that two Sparrows once made their nest in the roof of a house; and, contenting themselves with a single grain, so lived. Once on a time they had young ones, and both the mother and father used to go out in search of food for their support; and what they procured they made up into grains and dropped into their crops.
One day, the male Sparrow had gone out somewhere. When he came back he beheld the female Sparrow fluttering in the greatest distress around the nest, while she uttered piteous cries. He exclaimed, "Sweet friend! what movements are these which I behold in thee?" She replied, "How shall I not lament, since, when I returned after a moment's absence, I saw a huge Snake come and prepare to devour my offspring, though I poured forth piteous cries. It was all in vain, for the Snake said, 'Thy sigh will have no effect on my dark-mirrored scales.' I replied, 'Dread this, that I and the father of these children will gird up the waist of vengeance, and will exert ourselves to the utmost for thy destruction.' The Snake laughed on hearing me, and that cruel oppressor has devoured my young and has also taken his rest in the nest."
When the male Sparrow heard this story, his frame was wrung with anguish; and the fire of regret for the loss of his offspring fell on his soul. At that moment the master of the house was engaged in lighting his lamp; and holding in his hand a match, dipped in grease and lighted, was about to put it into the lamp-holder. The Sparrow flew and snatched the match from his hand and threw it into the nest. The master of the house, through fear that the fire would catch to the roof, and that the consequences would be most pernicious, immediately ran up on the terrace and began clearing away the nest from beneath, in order to put out the fire. The Snake beheld in front the danger of the fire, and heard above the sound of the pickaxe. It put out its head from a hole which it had near the roof, and no sooner did it do so than it received a blow of death from the pickaxe.
And the moral of this fable is, that the Snake despised its enemy, and made no account of him, until in the end that enemy pounded his head with the stone of vengeance.
The Geese and the Tortoise
It is related that in a pool whose pure water reflected every image like a clear mirror, once resided two Geese and a Tortoise, and in consequence of their being neighbours, the thread of their circumstances had been drawn out into sincere friendship, and they passed their lives contentedly.
In that water which was the source of their life and the support of their existence, however, a complete failure began to manifest itself, and a glaring alteration became evident. When the Geese perceived that state of things they withdrew their hearts from the home to which they were accustomed and determined on emigrating. Therefore with hearts full of sorrow and eyes full of tears, they approached the Tortoise, and introduced the subject of parting.
The Tortoise wept at the intelligence and piteously exclaimed, "What words are these, and how can existence be supported without sympathizing friends? And since that I have not power even to take leave, how can I endure the load of separation?"
The Geese replied: "Our hearts, too, are wounded by the sharp points of absence, but the distress of being without water is impossible to endure, and therefore of necessity we are about to forsake our friend and country."
The Tortoise rejoined: "O friends! ye know that the distress of the want of water affects me more, and that without water I cannot support myself. At this crisis the rights of ancient companionship demand that ye should take me with you, and not leave me alone in the sorrowful abode of separation."
The Geese answered: "O esteemed comrade! the pang of parting from thee is sharper than that of exile, and wherever we go, though we should pass our time in the utmost comfort, yet, deprived of seeing thee, the eye of our rejoicing would be darkened; but for us to proceed on the earth's surface and so to traverse a great and long distance is impossible, and for thee, too, to fly through the expanse of air and accompany us is impracticable; and such being the case, how can we travel together?"
The Tortoise answered: "Your sagacity will be able to devise a remedy for this matter, and what plan can develop while my spirit is broken by the thought of parting?"
The Geese replied: "O friend! during this period of our friendship we have observed in thee somewhat of hastiness and rashness; perhaps thou wilt not act upon what we say, nor keep firm to thy promise after thou hast made it."
The Tortoise rejoined; "How can it be that ye should speak with a view to my advantage, and I fail to perform a compact which is for my own good?"
Said the Geese: "The condition is that when we take thee up and fly through the air thou wilt not utter a single syllable, for any one who may happen to see us will be sure to throw in a word, and say something in reference to us directly or indirectly. Now, how many soever allusions thou mayest hear, or whatever manoeuvres thou mayest observe, thou must close the path of reply, and not loose thy tongue."
The Tortoise answered: "I am obedient to your commands, and I will positively place the seal of silence on my lips, so that I shall not be even disposed to answer any creature."
The Geese then brought a stick, and the Tortoise laid hold of the middle of it firmly with his teeth, and they, lifting the two ends of the stick, bore him up. When they got to a height in the air, they happened to pass over a village, and the inhabitants thereof having discovered them, were astonished at their proceedings, and came out to look at the sight, and raised a shout from left and right, "Look! how two geese are carrying a tortoise!"
And as in those days the like of it had never been witnessed by that people, their cries and exclamations increased every moment. The Tortoise was silent for a time, but at length the cauldron of his self-esteem began to boil, and his patience being exhausted, he exclaimed: "You who are shouting to others to look at what is plain enough to every one, hold your peace!" No sooner had he opened his lips, however, than he fell from on high, and the Geese exclaimed, "It is the part of friends to give advice and of the well-disposed to listen to it."
And the moral of this story is, that whoever listens not to the admonition of friends, with the hearing of acceptance, will have hastened his own destruction.
The Sagacious Snake
It is related that the infirmities of age had taken effect upon a Snake and through loss of strength he was unable to pursue his prey, and was bewildered in his proceedings how to obtain food. Life was impossible without food, and to hunt for it, had, through his weakness, become impracticable. Accordingly he thus reflected:
"Alas! for the strength of my youth; and now to expect its return and to hope for the recurrence of my animal vigour is a thing of the same complexion as to light a fire from water." He felt that what was passed could not be recalled, and he therefore busied himself with taking thought for the future, and said: "In lieu of the strength of youth I have a little experience which I have acquired, and a trifle of prudence. I must now base my proceedings on abstaining from injuring others and must begin to consider how I may obtain, for the remainder of my life, what may be the means of support."
He then went to the brink of a spring of water in which there were a number of frogs who had a potent King and one who was obeyed and renowned. The Snake cast himself down there in the dust of the road, like to a sufferer on whom calamity has fallen. A Frog speedily made up to him, and asked him: "I see thou art very sorrowful. What is the cause of it?" The Snake replied: "Who deserves more to grieve than I, whose maintenance was from hunting frogs? Today an event has occurred which has rendered the pursuit of them unlawful to me, and if I seriously designed to seize one, I could not." The Frog went away and told the King, who was amazed at this strange circumstance, and coming to the Snake, asked him: "What is the cause of this accident that has befallen thee and what act has brought down this upon thee?"
The Snake replied: "O King, greed plunged me into calamity, and this befell as follows: One day I attempted to seize a Frog, which fled from me and took refuge in the house of a holy man. My appetite led me to follow him into the house, which happened to be dark. The son of the holy man lay there asleep, and his great toe coming against me I fancied it was the Frog. From the ardour of my greediness I closed my teeth upon it, and the child died on the spot. The holy man discovered the fact, and from regret for his son, attacked me, and I, turning toward the open country, fled with speed, and the recluse pursued me and cursed me, and said: 'I desire of my Creator that He will make thee base and powerless, and cause thee to be the vehicle of the Frog-king. And, verily, thou shalt not have power to eat Frogs, save what their King shall bestow on thee as alms.' And now, of necessity, I have come hither that the King may ride upon me, and I have acquiesced in the will of God."
The matter pleased the King of the Frogs, and he thought that it would redound to his advantage; and he at once seated himself upon the Snake, and indulged in vainglorious airs in consequence.
Some time passed in this way. At last the Snake said: "May the life of the King be prolonged! I cannot do without food and sustenance, that I may support life thereon and fulfil this service." The King said: "The case is as thou sayest; I cannot do without my steed, and my steed cannot have strength without food." He then fixed two Frogs as his daily allowance, that he might use as his regular supply for breakfast and dinner. The Snake maintained himself on that allowance; and inasmuch as the attention he paid to the Frog-king involved a benefit to himself he did not find fault with it.
And this story is adduced to make it apparent that courtesy and humility are readier means to uproot an enemy than war and contest.
The Old Woman's Cat
In former times there lived an old woman in a state of extreme debility. She possessed a cot more narrow than the heart of the ignorant and darker than the miser's grave; and a Cat was her companion, which had never seen, even in the mirror of imagination, the face of a loaf, nor had heard from friend or stranger the name of meat. It was content if occasionally it smelt the odour of a mouse from its hole, or saw the print of the foot of one on the surface of a board, and if, on some rare occasion, by the aid of good fortune one fell into its claws, it subsisted a whole week, more or less, on that amount of food.
And, inasmuch as the house of the old woman was the famine-year of that Cat, it was always miserable and thin, and from a distance appeared like an idea.
One day, through excessive weakness, it had, with the utmost difficulty, mounted on the top of the roof; thence it beheld a Cat which walked proudly on the wall of a neighbouring house, and after the fashion of a destroying lion advanced with measured steps, and from excessive fat lifted its feet slowly. When the Cat of the old woman saw this, it was astonished and cried out, saying: "Thou, whose state is thus pleasant, whence art thou? and since it appears that thou comest from the banquet-chamber of the Khan of Khata, whence is this sleekness of thine, and from what cause this thy grandeur and strength?"
The Neighbour-Cat replied: "I am the crumb-eater of the tray of the Sultan. Every morning I attend on the court of the king, and when they spread the tray of invitation, I display boldness and daring, and in general I snatch off some morsels of fat meats, and of loaves made of the finest flour; and thus I pass my time happy and satisfied till the next day."
The Cat of the old woman inquired: "What sort of a thing may fat meat be? and what kind of relish has bread, made of fine flour? I, during my whole life, have never seen nor tasted aught save the old woman's broths, and mouse's flesh."
The Neighbour-Cat laughed, and said: "Therefore it is that one cannot distinguish thee from a spider, and this form and appearance that thou hast is a reproach to our whole race. If thou shouldst see the court of the Sultan and smell the odour of those delicious viands, thou wouldst acquire a fresh form."
The Cat of the old woman, said, most beseechingly, "O brother! thou art bound to me by neighbourship and kinship; why not this time, when thou goest, take me with thee? Perchance, by thy good fortune, I may obtain food."
The heart of the Neighbour-Cat melted at the speaker's lamentable position, and he resolved that he would not attend the feast without him. The Cat of the old woman felt new life at these tidings, and descending from the roof stated the case to his mistress. The old dame began to advise the Cat, saying: "O kind companion, be not deceived by the words of worldly people and abandon not the corner of content, for the vessel of covetousness is not filled save with the dust of the grave." But the Cat had taken into its head such a longing for the delicacies of the Sultan's table that the medicine of advice was not profitable to it.
In short, the next day, along with its neighbour, the old woman's Cat, with tottering steps conveyed itself to court, but before it could arrive there ill-fortune had poured the water of disappointment on the fire of its wish, and the reason was as follows:
The day before, the cats had made a general onslaught on the table, and raised an uproar beyond bounds, and annoyed, to the last degree, the guests and their host. Wherefore, on this day, the Sultan had commanded that a band of archers, standing in ambush, should watch, so that for every cat who, holding before its face the buckler of impudence should enter the plain of audacity, the very first morsel that it ate should be a liver-piercing shaft.
The old woman's Cat, ignorant of this circumstance, as soon as it smelt the odour of the viands, turned its face like a falcon to the hunting-ground of the table, and the scale of the balance of appetite had not yet been weighted by heavy mouthfuls, when the heart-piercing arrow quivered in its breast.
Dear friend! the honey pays not for the sting,Content with syrup is a better thing.
The Young Tiger
In the environs of Basrah there was an island of excessively pleasant climate, where limpid waters flowed on every side and life-bestowing zephyrs breathed around.
From its excessive exquisiteness they called it the "Joy-expanding Wilderness," and a Tiger bore sway there, such that from dread of him fierce lions could not set foot in that retreat.
He had lived much time in that wild, according to his wish, and had never seen the form of disappointment in the mirror of existence. He had a young one whose countenance made the world seem bright to him, and his intention was that when that young one came to years he would commit that solitude to his charge, and pass the rest of his life at ease in the corner of retirement. The blossom of his wish had not yet expanded on the stem of desire when the autumn of death gave the fruit of the garden of his existence to the mind of destruction.
And when this Tiger was seized by the claw of the Lion, Death, several wild beasts who for a long time entertained a desire for that wilderness made a unanimous movement and set about appropriating it. The young Tiger saw that he possessed not the strength to resist. He went voluntarily into exile, and amongst the wild beasts a huge contest arose. A blood-spilling Lion overcame all the others and brought the island into his own possession, and the young Tiger, having for some time endured distress in the mountains and wastes, conveyed himself to another haunt, and disclosed his affliction to the wild beasts of that district, asking their aid to find a remedy.
They, having received intelligence of the victory of the Lion, and his overpowering might, said: "O unfortunate! thy place is now in the possession of a Lion such that from terror of him the wild birds will not fly over that wilderness, and from fear of him the elephant will not approach. We have not strength to fight with him and thou too art not able to enter with him the arena of strife. Our opinion demands that thou shouldst betake thyself to his court, and with perfect loyalty enter his service."
These words seemed reasonable to the young Tiger, and he looked upon his best course to be this—that he should voluntarily enter the service of the Lion, and, to the extent of his ability, offer the duties of attendance. Through the intervention of one of the nobles he obtained the honour of waiting on the Lion, and, having become the object of the imperial regard, was appointed to an office suited to his spirit. Having tightly fastened the belt of obedience on the waist of affection the royal favour was constantly augmented and he incessantly displayed increased exertion in the affairs of the state.
Upon a certain time an important matter arose which called the Lion away to a distant jungle; and at that time the heat of the oven of the sky was unmitigated, and the expanse of waste and mountain like a furnace of glass fiercely inflamed. From the excessive heat of the air, the brains of animals were boiled in their craniums, and the crabs in the water were fried like fish in the frying-pan.
The Lion reflected: "At such a time, when the shell at the bottom of the deep, like a fowl on a spit, is roasting, an affair of this importance has occurred. Who may there be among my attendants who would not be affected by the labour and who, undeterred by the heat of the atmosphere, would approach this undertaking?"
In the midst of this reflection the Tiger came in with the line of attendants and observed that the Lion was thoughtful. On the ground of his tact and affection, he advanced near the throne of royalty, and was emboldened to ask the cause of that thoughtfulness, and having learned how the case stood, he took upon himself to accomplish the matter, and having been honoured with permission, he set off with a body of attendants, and, arriving at that place at noon, he betook himself to the accomplishment of that affair, and the instant that the business was settled to his satisfaction he changed his reins to return.
The officers who had been appointed to attend him unanimously represented as follows: "In such heat as this, all this distance has been traversed by the steps of completion, and now that the affair has been settled and the confidence placed in you by his majesty been demonstrated, it will certainly be advisable if you should repose a short time in the shade of a tree and allay the fiery tongue of thirst by drinking cool water."
The Tiger smiled and said: "My intimacy and rank with his majesty the king is a banner that I have by toil and effort set up. It would not be well to level it with the ground by indulgence and sloth. Without supporting trouble it is impossible to arrive at the carrying off of treasure, and unaccompanied by the thorn we cannot reap the enjoyment of the rose garden."
The informers furnished intelligence of this to the Lion, and recited the book of the affair, from preface to conclusion. The Lion nodded the head of approval, and said: "The people may be at peace in the just reign of that ruler who does not place his head on the pillow of repose." He then sent for the Tiger, and having distinguished him with special honours, committed that jungle to him, and, having bestowed on him the place of his sire, conferred on him, in addition, the dignity of being his heir.
And the use of this fable is, that thou mayest learn that to no one does the sun of his wish rise from the eastern quarter of hope without the diligent use of great exertion.
The Fox and the Drum
It is related that a Fox was once prowling over a moor, and was roaming in every direction in hope of scenting food. Presently he came to the foot of a tree, at the side of which they had suspended a drum, and whenever a gust of wind came, a branch of the tree was put in motion, and struck the surface of the drum, when a terrible noise arose from it.
The Fox, seeing a domestic fowl under the tree, who was pecking the ground with her beak, and searching for food, planted himself in ambush, and wished to make her his prey, when all of a sudden the sound of a drum reached his ear. He looked and saw a very fat form, and a prodigious sound from it reached his hearing. The appetite of the Fox was excited, and he thought to himself, "Assuredly its flesh and skin will be proportioned to its voice."
He issued from his lurking-place and turned toward the tree. The fowl being put on its guard by that circumstance, fled, and the Fox, by a hundred exertions, ascended the tree. Much did he labour till he had torn the drum, and then he found nought save a skin and a piece of wood. The fire of regret descended into his heart, and the water of contrition began to run from his eyes, and he said: "Alas! that by reason of this huge bulk which is all wind, that lawful prey has escaped from my hand, and from this empty form no advantage has resulted to me."
Loudly ever sounds the labour,But in vain—within is nought:Art thou wise, for substance labour,Semblance will avail thee nought.
The Sparrows and the Falcon
Two Sparrows once fixed their nest on the branch of a tree; and of worldly gear, water and grain sufficed them; while on the summit of a mountain, beneath which that tree lay, a Falcon had its abode, which, at the time of stooping on its quarry, issued from its lurking-place like lightning, and, like heaven's bolt, clean consumed the feebler birds.
Whenever the Sparrows produced young, and the time was near at hand for them to fly, that Falcon, rushing forth from its ambush, used to carry them off and make them food for its own young. Now, to those Sparrows—in accordance with the saying, "The law of home is a part of faith"—to migrate from that place was impossible, and yet from the cruelty of the tyrannous Hawk it was difficult to reside there.
On one occasion their young ones, having gained strength and put forth feathers and wings, were able to move; and the father and mother, pleased with the sight of their offspring, testified their joy at their attempt to fly.
Suddenly the thought of the Falcon passed through their minds, and, all at once, they began to lament from anxiety.
One of their children—in whose countenance the signs of ripe discretion were visible—having inquired the reason of their despondency, they recounted the history of the Falcon's oppression and of its carrying off their young, with all the particulars.
The son said; "The Causer of Causes has sent a cure for every sorrow. It is probable that if ye exert yourselves in repelling this misfortune both this calamity will be averted from our heads and this burden removed from your hearts."
These words pleased the Sparrows; and while one of them stopped to attend the young ones, the other flew forth in search of relief. He resolved in his mind on the way that he would tell his story to whatsoever animal his eyes first fell upon, and ask a remedy for his heart's distress from it.
It happened that a Salamander, having come forth from a mine of fire, was wandering in the spreading plain of the desert. When the glance of the Sparrow lighted upon him, and that strange form came into his view, he said to himself: "I have fallen upon good! Come on, I will disclose the grief of my heart to this marvellous bird; perhaps he may undo the knot of my affairs and may show me the way to a remedy." Then with the utmost respect, he advanced to the Salamander, and after the usual salutation, paid the compliment of offering service. The Salamander, too, in a kind tone, expressed the courtesy required toward travellers and said: "The traces of weariness are discernible in thy countenance. If this arises from journeying, be pleased to halt some days in this neighbourhood; and if the case be aught else, explain it, that, to the extent of my power, I may exert myself to remedy it."
The Sparrow loosed his tongue, and represented to the Salamander his piteous condition, after a fashion, that, had he told it to a rock, it would have been rent in pieces by his distress.
After hearing his tale, the Salamander, too, felt the fire of compassion kindled, and he said; "Grieve not! for I will this night take such measures as to consume the Falcon's abode and nest and all that therein is. Do thou point out to me thy dwelling, and go to thy offspring until the time I come to thee."
The Sparrow indicated his dwelling in such a way as not to leave a doubt in the mind of the Salamander; and with a glad heart turned toward his own nest. When the night came on, the Salamander, with a number of its own kind, each carrying a quantity of naphtha and brimstone, set off in the direction of the spot, and under the guidance of that Sparrow conveyed themselves to the vicinity of the Falcon's nest.
The latter, unaware of the impending misfortune, had, with its young, eaten plentifully and fallen asleep. The Salamanders cast upon their nest all the naphtha and brimstone that they had brought with them and turned back and the blast of justice fell upon those oppressors. They rose up from the sleep of negligence and all of them, with their abode and nest, were at once consumed to ashes.
And this instance is given that thou mayest know that every one who labours to repel an enemy, though he be small and weak, and his foe great and strong, may yet hope for victory and triumph.
The Hermit, the Thief, and the Demon
It is related that a Hermit of pure disposition, abstemious and virtuous, had made his cell in one of the environs of Baghdad, and passed his morning and evening hours in the worship of the All-wise King, and by these means had shaken his skirt clear from the dust of worldly affairs. He had bowed his head in the corner of contentment under the collar of freedom from care, and rested satisfied with the portion that was supplied to him from the invisible world.
One of his sincere disciples got knowledge of the poverty and fastings of the Holy Man, and by way of offering, brought to the hermitage a she buffalo, young and fat, with whose delicious milk the palate of desire was oiled and sweetened.
A thief beheld the circumstance, and his hungry appetite was excited; and he set off for the cell of the recluse. A demon, too, joined him in the likeness of a man. The thief asked him: "Who art thou, and whither goest thou?" He replied: "I am a demon, who have assumed this shape, and, putting on this guise, am going to the hermitage of the recluse, for many of the people of this country, through the blessing of his instruction, have begun to repent and to be converted and the market of our temptations has become flat. I wish to get an opportunity and kill him. This is my story which thou hast heard; now, tell me, who art thou and what is thy story?" The thief replied:
"I am a man whose trade is roguery, and I am occupied night and day with thinking how to steal some one's goods and impose the scar of affliction on his heart. I am now going, as the recluse has got a fat buffalo, to steal it and use it for my own wants." The demon said;
"Praise be to God that the bond of kinship is strong between us, and this alone is sufficient to ally us, since the object of both is to assail him."
They then proceeded on their way, and at night reached the cell of the recluse. The latter had finished the performance of his daily worship, and had gone to sleep, just as he was, on his prayer-carpet. The thief bethought himself, that if the demon attempted to kill him he would probably awake and make an outcry; and the other people who were his neighbours, would be alarmed, and in that case it would be impossible to steal the buffalo. The demon, too, reflected that if the thief carried off the buffalo from the house, he must of course open the door. Then the noise of the door would very likely awaken the recluse, and he should have to postpone killing him. He then said to the thief: "Do thou wait and give me time to kill the hermit, and then do thou steal the buffalo." The thief rejoined: "Stop thou till I steal the buffalo, and then kill the hermit."
This difference was prolonged between them, and at last the words of both came to wrangling. The thief was so annoyed that he called out to the recluse: "There is a demon here who wants to kill thee." The demon, too, shouted: "Here is a thief, who wants to steal thy buffalo."
The hermit was roused by the uproar, and raised a cry, whereupon the neighbours came, and both the thief and the demon ran way; and the life and property of the Holy Man remained safe and secure through the quarrel of his enemies.
When the two hostile armies fall to strife,Then from its sheath what need to draw the knife?
The King and the Hawk
It is related that in ancient times there was a King fond of hunting. He was ever giving reins to the courser of his desire in the pursuit of game, and was always casting the lasso of gladness over the neck of sport. Now this King had a Hawk, who at a single flight could bring down a pebble from the peak of the Caucasus, and in terror of whose claws the constellation Aquila kept himself in the green nest of the sky; and the King had a prodigious fondness for this Hawk and always cared for it with his own hands.
It happened one day that the Monarch, holding the Hawk on his hand, had gone to the chase. A stag leapt up before him and he galloped after it with the utmost eagerness. But he did not succeed in coming up with it, and became separated from his retinue and servants; and though some of them followed him, the King rode so hotly that the morning breeze could not have reached the dust he raised.
Meantime the fire of his thirst was kindled, and the intense desire to drink overcame the King. He galloped his steed in every direction in search of water until he reached the skirt of a mountain, and beheld that from its summit limpid water was trickling. The King drew forth a cup which he had in his quiver, and riding under the mountain filled the cup with that water, which fell drop by drop, and was about to take a draught, when the Hawk made a blow with his wing, and spilled all the water in the goblet. The King was vexed at this action, but held the cup a second time under the rock, until it was brimful. He then raised it to his lips again, and again the Hawk made a movement and overthrew the cup. The King rendered impatient by thirst, dashed the Hawk on the ground and killed it.
Shortly after a stirrup-holder of the King came up and saw the Hawk dead, and the Monarch athirst. He then undid a water-vessel from his saddle-cord and washed the cup clean, and was about to give the King a drink. The latter bade him ascend the mountain, as he had an inclination for the pure water which trickled from the rock; and could not wait to collect it in the cup, drop by drop. The stirrup-holder ascended the mountain and beheld a spring giving out a drop at a time with a hundred stintings; and a huge serpent lay dead on the margin of the fountain; and as the heat of the sun had taken effect upon it, the poisonous saliva mixed with the water of that mountain, and it trickled drop by drop down the rock.
The stirrup-holder was overcome with horror, and came down from the mountain bewildered, and represented the state of the case, and gave the King a cup of cold water from his ewer. The latter raised the cup to his lips, and his eyes overflowed with tears. The attendant asked the reason of his weeping. The King drew a sigh from his anguished heart and relating in full the story of the Hawk and the spilling of the water in the cup, said: "I grieve for the death of the Hawk, and bemoan my own deed in that without inquiry I have deprived a creature, so dear to me, of life." The attendant replied: "This Hawk protected thee from a great peril, and has established a claim to the gratitude of all the people of this country. It would have been better if the King had not been precipitate in slaying it, and had quenched the fire of wrath with the water of mildness."
The King replied; "I repent of this unseemly action; but my repentance is now unavailing, and the wound of this sorrow cannot be healed by any salve"; and this story is related in order that it may be known that many such incidents have occurred where, through the disastrous results of precipitation, men have fallen into the whirlpool of repentance.
The Mouse and the Frog
It is related that a Mouse had taken up its abode on the brink of a fountain and had fixed its residence at the foot of a tree.
A Frog, too, passed his time in the water there, and sometimes came to the margin of the pool to take the air. One day, coming to the edge of the water, he continued uttering his voice in a heart-rending cadence and assumed himself to be a nightingale of a thousand melodies.
At that time the Mouse was engaged in chanting in a corner of his cell. Directly he heard the uproarious yelling of the Frog he was astounded, and came out with the intention of taking a look at the reciter; and while occupied with listening to him, kept smiting his hands together and shaking his head. These gestures, which seemed to display approbation, pleased the Frog and he made advances toward acquaintance with him. In short, being mutually pleased with each other, they became inseparable companions, and used to narrate to each other entertaining stories and tales.
One day the Mouse said to the Frog: "I am oftentimes desirous of disclosing to thee a secret and recounting to thee a grief which I have at heart, and at that moment thou art abiding under the water. However much I shout thou nearest me not, owing to the noise of the water, and in spite of my crying to thee, the sound cannot reach thee, because of the clamour of the other frogs. We must devise some means by which thou mayest know when I come to the brink of the water, and thus mayest be informed of my arrival without my shouting to thee."
The Frog said: "Thou speakest the truth. I, too, have often pondered uneasily, thinking, should my friend come to the brink of the water, how shall I, at the bottom of this fountain, learn his arrival? And it sometimes happens that I, too, come to the mouth of thy hole, and thou hast gone out from another side, and I have to wait long. I had intended to have touched somewhat on this subject before, but now the arrangement of it rests with thee."
The Mouse replied: "I have got hold of the thread of a plan, and it appears to me the best thing to get a long string, and to fasten one end to thy foot, and tie the other tight around my own, in order that when I come to the water's edge and shake the string, thou mayest know what I want; and if thou, too, art so kind as to come to the door of my cell, I may also get information by thy jerking the string." Both parties agreed to this, and the knot of friendship was in this manner firmly secured, and they were also kept informed of one another's condition. One day, the Mouse came to the water's edge to seek the Frog, in order to renew their friendly converse. All of a sudden a Crow, like an unforeseen calamity, flew down from the air, and snatching up the Mouse, soared aloft, with him. The string which was tied to the leg of the Mouse drew forth the Frog from the bottom of the water, and, as the other leg was fastened to the Frog's leg, he was suspended head downward in the air. The Crow flew on, holding the Mouse in its beak, and lower still the Frog hanging head downward. People witnessing that extraordinary sight were uttering in the road various jokes and sarcasms: "A strange thing this, that contrary to his wont, a crow has made a prey of a frog!" and "Never before was a frog the prey of a crow!"
The Frog was howling out in reply: "Now, too, a Frog is not the prey of a Crow, but from the bad luck of associating with a Mouse, I have been caught in this calamity, and he who associates with a different species deserves a thousand times as much."
And this story carries with it this beneficial advice: That no one ought to associate with one of a different race, in order that, like the Frog, he may not be suspended on the string of calamity.
The Crow and the Partridge
It is related that one day a Crow was flying and saw a Partridge, which was walking gracefully on the ground with a quick step and graceful gait that enchanted the heart of the looker-on.
The Crow was pleased with the gait of the Partridge, and amazed at its agility. The desire of walking in the same manner fixed itself in his mind, and the insane longing to step proudly, after this fascinating fashion, made its appearance. He forthwith girt his loins in attendance on the Partridge, and abandoning sleep and food, gave himself up to that arduous occupation, and kept continually running in the traces of the Partridge and gazing on its progress.
One day the Partridge said: "O crazy, black-faced one! I observe that thou art ever hovering about me, and art always watching my motions. What is it that thou dost want?"
The Crow replied: "O thou of graceful manners and sweet smiling face, know that having conceived a desire to learn thy gait, I have followed thy steps for a long time past, and wish to acquire thy manner of walking, in order that I may place the foot of preeminence on the head of my fellows."
The Partridge uttered a merry laugh, and said: "Alack! alack! My walking gracefully is a thing implanted in me by nature, and thy style of going is equally a natural characteristic. My going is in one way, and thy mode of procedure is quite another. Leave off this fancy and relinquish this idea."
The Crow replied: "Since I have plunged into this affair, no idle stories shall make me give it up; and until I grasp my wished-for object, I will not turn back from this road."
So the unfortunate Crow for a long time ran after the Partridge, and having failed to learn his method of going, forgot his own too, and could in nowise recover it.