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ne Baldwin Ubrmy
~.NCIENO ADMD ER AT. ADAPTED FOR TU1E USE OF CHILDREN.BY EDWARD BALDWIN, ESQ.
L ON DON:
FRINTELj rjOR A. J. GODWIN,
JUVENILE LIBRARY, No. 41, SKINNtER-STREET) S NUIV.HILL; AND jTO BE HAD OF ALL OTHER
[Pricc Tmi Shillings bound.1
Prbwd by Ri&r and Weed, Littk Britdo.
THLR are two or three features that I have aimed t bestow upon these fables, by which they might be disOiuished from the generality of fables I have seen; and, Is every author has not the skill to make his intention vible, and every reader is not a reader of penetration, [
*ill briefly mention what these features are.
I have long thought that fables were the happiest vehi. ec which could be devised for the instruction of children fkthe litst period of their education. The stories are short; a simple and familiar turn of incident runs through them;
d the mediums of instruction they employ are animals, soume of the first objects with which the eyes and the enOSitY of children are conversant. Yet these advantages se toq often defeated by the manner in which fables are written, and in which they are read.
They are written in too simple a form. Too simple ia
guage and sentiments they cannot be. But many fables the commonest books of this sort are dismissed in five ir.six lines. This is wrong; it is not thus that children ite instructed. If we would benefit a child, we must betonse in part a.child ourselves. We must prattle to him; r must expatiate upon some points; we must introduce It unexpected turns, which, if they are not wit, have e lect of wit to children. Above all, we must make fbarrations pictures, and render the objects we discourse about, visible to the fancy of the learner. A tale which
cOmpressed, dry, and told in as few words as a prooM in Euclid, wil never prove interesting to the mind
1 the present volume I have uniformly represented elf to my own thoughts as relating the several storie
a child. I have fancied myself taking the child upon
See, and have expressed them in such language as I d have been likely to employ, when I wished to amuse
the child, and make what I was talking of take hold up ]his attention.
Half the fables which are to be found in the ordin books end unhappily, or end in an abrupt and unsatis tory manner. This is what a child does not like. r first question he asks, when he has finished his reading he is at all interested in the tale, is, Whatbecame of poor dog, the fox, or the wolf? While the stories told with the customary dryness, this was not of In importance; but, the moment a character of reality given to the narrative, it cried aloud for corrections. have accordingly endeavoured to make almost all my n ratives end in a happy and forgiving tone, in that to raind which I would wish to cultivate in my child.
Lastly, in the ordinary fable-booksl, every object,
it a wolf; a stag, a country-fair, a Heathen Goo, or grim spectre of Death, is introduced abruptly: and few parents, and fewer governesses, are inclined to in rupt their lessons with dialogue, and enter into expa tions, the child is early taught to receive and repeat Ao "Which convey no specific idea to his mind. I have end i oured never to forget, that the book I was writing, to be the first, or nearly the first, book offered t ihild's attention. I have introduced no leading ob without a clear and.distinct explanation. By this the little reader will be accustomed to form clear an tinct ideas. By this means my book is made a coni dium of the most familiar points of natural history cieat mythology, and the knowledge of life, without subjected to the discouraging arrangements of a bo science. I have intended, as far as I i as able, that volume should surpass most others in forming the min the learner to habits of meditation and reflection.
I. The Dog in the Manger --.....---------II. The Shepherd's Boy and the Wolf.. 2 III. The Grasshopper and the Ant-...... 4 IV. The Hermit and the Bear..........
V. The Fox and the Raven----------..........- 7
VI. The Fox and the Stork-----------............- 9
VII. The Stag Drinking............-------------... t11
VIII. The Travellers and the Money-Bag.- 14
IX. The Miller, his Son, and his Ass... 16
X. The Town Mouse and the Country
XI. The Miser and his Treasure ...... -------24
XII. The Fox and the Grapes........... -----------28
X III. The Lion and the Mouse.......... ----------29
XIV. The Old Man and the Bundle of
XV. The Disputed Oyster...........--------------. 33
XVI. The Goose with Golden Eggs - ...... 34
XVII. The Boys and the Frogs-..-------.... 35
XVIIl. The Mice in Council---------............--- 38
XIX. The Country Maid and her MilkPail---------------........................ 41
XX. The Poor Farmer and the Justice.... 44 XXLI The Ass in the Lion's Skin ....... 46 XXII. The Daw and Borrowed Feathrs.. 48
XX IlI. The Dog and the Shadow--------........ 50
XXIV. The Wolf and the Mastiff--.....--------- b2
XXV. The Wolf and the Lamb..---------........ -54
XXVI. The Mouse, the Cock, and the Cat 55 XX V II. The Fly in the Mail-Coach..'...... 58 XXVIII. The Belly and the Members -........- 60
XXIX. The Sun and the Wind..........------------.. 62
XXX. The-Frog and the Ox............ -------------64
XXXI. The Horse and the Stag............ ------------66
XXXII. The Good-Natured Man and the
Adder ...................... 68
XXXI111. The Bear and the Bees----XXXIV. The AorsniDung and the AIples.- XXX V. Tfhe Lion an&~ other Beasts Hunting XXXV 1. The Lion and the Man -----XX $. VI L The Fox and fhe ---...........
XXXVIII. The Leap in Rho les............XXXIX. T he Cock and the Precious Stonle.
X L. The Mountain in L thoijr ----X Lf. The Oask and the Reed.XL- The Fox without a Tail.........XUi il. The Waggoner and Hercules---XLIV. The Grass-green Cat.............XLV. The Weasel in the Granary- -7- -- -- -f XLVI. Washing the Blackamoor White. ---- 9
XLV 11. Industry and Sloth..............XLVIII. The Laboarer and his Sons ---------10 XLfX. The Lark and her Yonng Ones-- -- ---10
L. The Faggot Binder a-.vr Death -------I1 Lf. The Murderer and the Moona-------1
Li.The Ass' and the Lap-dog ---------1
LIII. The Satyr and the Traveller ---------1I Ll V. The Ape and her Cubs ------------- II
EV. The Two Jars ----------------LVI. The Crab and her Daughter ---------.1
LVI L. The Travellers and' the Bear--.-'-.,---1 LVIII1. IgnOraMUS and, te Student-. --------11
LX. The Yourng .Man and tbe Lion --------1
X. The Eagle-a-M the Crow-----------1 3
LXI. Th,., Hart and tire Vine ------------1l1
LXII. The Dying Engjle ---------- :-------13
LXII,.' TAe Lynx and the Mole -----------13
LXIV. The'Dorg and hit Clog -----4-- I
LXV. The Lion and the Gad-fly ---------143
LXAf. The Astrologer in a Pit.- -- -'--- 4
Ut 11 Th Hrdsan ndJupiter------2LXVI11i. The Old Woman and her Maids ILX IX. The'Cock and the Fox_---- 16 LXX. The-Linn, the Cock, and the Ass--- 155 LKXI.- The(2onttactor and the Cobler----158
ANCIENT AND MODJNZK
TILE DOG IN THIVT ANGER' NAUGHTY dog once went into a stable, and A havilig looked about imi, juinped into the manger, thi*nk~jI that ivas -a nice snug- place for
-him to lie down and sleep in. Presently a little boy came into the stable. leaiding- his pupas horse, 04At lad been ploug-iing a idiioe field, and was very lirel, and very hnug1,-ry ( o:ne Out, poar fellowI si the little 6ov to the dog, papa's hiors;e wants to0 tsomte hav. iBut the naquhty, dog,_ never stirred a 'I: hle only inade up an mglv face. and snarled Try mnuch. 'Iho little boy welit cls ptobi' ad endeaivoared to take -him out. but then the Uglf dog harked and growled, and evon tried to ite t he litle boy. The liti1e hoy was not bigenouigh 0managye s ,,ch an ill-niatured, cur; so be turned in le horse, mid slood by lo see wh at would happen. C horse looked -very h ungry, aInd very tired, and ,ut up h is head to t he rack to get a iliiouthfuil of hay., it h aghty dog snapped -at thle poor horse's o1uth. T1he horse wns very sorry, and would have id, Pray, dog, la me cal if hie had beien' able utt te naughity doz did niot care. Yota sillv dog, lid the lttle boy, hay is of no ItItse to -you; do'gs do teat Itiay, though horses do; ;tnd, if you stay terC, you will soonj be. as hungry as papa's horse. 0the dog, staid a lon~g while,'and by and by he
grew hungry, and came to the little boy, and b for meat. Silly dog, says the little boy, if as naughty as you, 1 should give you nothing as you prevented papa's horse from eating!. is a plate of meat for you; and remember a time, that only naughty dogs, and nanghty and girls, keep away from others what they use themselves.
THiE SHEPHERD'S BOY AND THE WOLF
A GREAT ihile ago, before there wereso large cities and villages as there are now, a countries in the world abounded with wild England in particular was full of wolves; an boys and girls dared not walk abroad without body to take care of them, for fear the wolf come and eat them up. In the times I am ti of, nobody had invented a plough; so there corn. The wild men then kept sheep; the mutton for their dinner, but neither turn bread to eat with it. Men staid all day w flocks, to take care that they did not lose the and that the wolves did not come to eat th wolves were always very fond of mutton, a they were hungry, would come and kill a-s a little lamb, for their dinner. A wolf hadi time rather have a lamb than.a child. when the men were very busy, mending the or cutting down fire-wood (for there were n and no tiles), they would send their child of ten or twelve years old, like Charles, to of the flocks of sheep.
The boy I am going to tell you about, was naughty boy, and his father and mother co Ver make him do as he was bid. He was
laughing "hen hlie should have been minding his lesson; and he often did mischief, and thought it a very good joke. Says his father to him one day, Vinter will soon be here, and I must go to the- torest and cut some fire-wood: you are hardly big enough yet to lake care of the sheep, but I must trust you to look after them. That I will, father! says the boy, for he was proud to be of some importance. I and three or four of my neighbours, said the father, shall be within call, and if you want any help, you must bawl to us as lustily as you can.
Away went the boy, and took the sheep-dog with him, and drove the flock to pasture. lie sat down upon a hillock to look at them; he patted his dog, and when any of the lambs straggled from the rest, he sent the dog to bark at them, and make them come back.
This was all very well; but presently he thought, Now I will have a joke. Every thing was quiet about him, when he set up a great scream, Father, father! the wolf, the wolf is coming. Away ran the father' and the nciglhours, leaving their work, some with sticks, and some with hatchets, to help the Por boy, and drive away the wolf. When they came, all was quiet, and the boy burst into a great lugh, to think he had made a fool of hig father. Iis father was very angry, and said,- Child, how uld you call us away from our work, and tell a lie? I coukl not have thought it of you. Butthe nauhty boy dhiJ not mind. S'Ihe next day the father went again to the forest, a sent his son to mind tie sheep. Presently he gaU to cry, The wolf, the' wolf! and every thiug
pened as before, except that his father was this mamore angry, and told him he should go to bed tout his suppr. Bit (he silly boy was still pleased with himself, that he had once more, as he Caed it, made a fool of his father. w was now almost evening, and the sun began V
9 when the naughty boy saw two great fier B2
'wolves runnine toward him as fast as they co lie s terribly frightened ; andl by ill tick the had Loue alIer a rabbit or a bird, and could no w fe seen, The bov screamed dismally : The the wll, Oh father, the wolf! Then he ran to the w ilI beasts v itlh his crook; but they scared i and he ran back ahi. Then he screamed more more. Wis father and the wood-cutters heard plain enough; but they said, It is only that chievous boy; he shall make fools of us no m So the wolves ate up so many of the flock, that father was ruined, and obliged to part with the and go a-begging: and, when the boy grew up he a man, people still pointed at him, and & Chat is the son, that told lies, and ruined his fat
-TlE GRASSHOPPER AND TlE 4NT.
I HAVE one thing to nimntion to you for f1 mistakes. Beasts and birds do not talk Engi but they have a way of talking that they understi among one another, better than we understand th# and yoiu, if you attend to y our dog, or your cat your horse, may generally make out what he w, from his voice or his look. I am going some' to tell you what an animal sa s; that is, I am p to put his mining into Enliish words.
ut let me say one thing more. It is not al necessary that a story should be true. Some st. are true, and some arp invented; and, if they' Very prettily invented, we are much obliged t people that made them. A lie is what naughlty say, that they may deceive; like the boy an woIl But, if 1 tell a pretty story of a o fox, or any other animals, I do not mean to I only mean to tell a pretty story. Now' ti begin.
An ant is a very wise, though a very little aniiral, and lays up food- iii the- summer when there is plenty, against the winter when there is none. le is thoughtful and serious. A grasshopper is the merriest creature in the world : he sings-all-the sum-mier long; but when- the winter comes, he dies of hunger and cold.
A grasshopper, as the story says, at the- beginning of a hard winter, happened to meet an ant. The grasshopper was very hungry. He looked at the ant, as much as to sway, You are a very wise animal, and have got a store-house full of corn. Ife then plucked up a spirit, and cried in a inelancholy tone, Pray, Mr. Ant, give me a grain of your ornt That 1 will, said the ant, and fetched him a little. But do not come to me any more; perhaps you may find other charitable ants- not far off anuther day. I have only enough to last my own family, who all helped in collecting it. Ants are very 60rry to see other animals starve ; but animals that al work for themselves, and will not, and, as the saying is, do not make hay while the sun shines, cannot always expect to have their idleness main- ined by our industry. People will think much better of a creature that is sober and pains-taking in time, than of one that, for want of taking pains, 'is Obliged to go a-begging.
THE HERMIT AND THE BEAR.
A VERY old man, who had lost his wifeand all his &ildren, took it into his head that he would go and live by himself in a cave, surrounded on all sides by a vast, desolate forest. He was a very good man, doing kindness to every body when he was able, and "eq body loved him. If a traveller lost his way
in the forest, an:d was hungry, and wery, an flighted, the old man world piv hh-art of. supper, and invite him to lodge in his vave. good creature was kind even to animals. he we not hurt a spider; and in the winter the little ro came, and fed upon the crumbs of bread that seatiere:1 for thcm at the month of his cave. Ti saw tha t he n ever hurt or frightened them, andt voukl pick out of his hand the biscuit he crum for their breakfast.
One day as this good hermit was taking a we he heard the groans of an animal in pain. looked through the bushes, and saw a vast o grown bear stretched at the foot of a tree. At he was rather alarmed; but, when he looked all longer, he saw the bear was very ill. Pe then round and showed himself: and the b ar tookd him in a pitiful manner, and held u1p his foot. hermit saw that it was very sore, and verya swelled. The poor creature had somehow g hurt in it a week before, and it had grown worsd worse, till the bear could nowt walk. The bcara not go for victuals, andi victuals did not come t bear, so that he was in danger of being sta The hermit took compassion on the animal; h and got water and washed his foot; he put a balsam to it that he had in- his pocket, and fetched him something to eat. He now visited bear every day, till he was well enough to wal
The first walk the bear took, he would go with the hermit. The old man did not much it; he would have been better pleased with a do his companion ; but the bear did it all out of Vhben they cane home, the bear would stay live with the hermit. Bears are clever animals, can do many tricks; though naughty peok thema very cruelly, pretending to teaci th dance. Particularly they can climb trees. hermit was feeble and stiff of his limbs, ad not do that; so this bear climbed trees tr him,
shook the boughs, and made the apples and chestals fall for the old m:un's supper.
One day the hermit had Itaken a longer walk than usual in a very hot sun, and after dinner he laid Mn down near his cave and fell asleep. The bear, U usual, watched close by him to take care of him. As the weather was sultry, the flies came about the hermit, and lighted on his Iace, and lickled him. The old man shook his head, brt did.not awake: the bear growled, but the hermit was in a sound sleep, and the flies did not care for his gfowlings. At last one saucy fly pitched upon the old man's nose. Now, thought the bear, I shall have you; and with that he took up his paw to give the fly a good knock. The fly was killed; but the poor hejrfit's nose was terribly bruised, and after a time turned quite black. Immediately the hermit woke, and began to be very angry; but he put up is hand to his nose, and the dead fly fell upon it: e then knew what the bear had been doing. Go,
said he to the bear, shaking his head with the Pam; I will always do you all the good I can, but e will not live together any move. He that admits his company an awkward and ill-matched fa. orite, will some time or other have-reason to grieve, rIfor things that were intended in kindness.
S THE FOX AND THE RAVEN.
TIiERE are a great many fables about foxes&. A isa little aniwd, hardly so big as a middledog. lie lives im the woods, and is never t ie is very foid of fowls and geese, and -them, whenever hlie can, for his dinner. The rmer-s therefore are his great enemies; for they do like, 'when they have been at the trouble and nee of breeding the poultry, that the fox should
come and eat them up. The fox however is a c ning little fellow; he is full of stratagems and Wi and when we speak of any body that is very sly, is usual to say, IHe is as cunning as a fox.
A fox, as Esop says, happened one day to be v hungry. lie was walking along quite serious, people are apt to be serious when they are htuing ie spied a raYven perched on a tree, with a deli cheese in his beak. I suppose this cheese must h been about the size of a baked apple; I believe make such in some countries.
The fox thought with himself, I dare say tha a very nice cheese; I wish I could taste it.I what could he do ? The raven sat upon a i branch; the fox did not know how to climb to hi If the raven would consent to fight for the che the fox perhaps could have beaten him. But, s pose the raven had been upon the ground, he fine large wings, and could have flown away with cheese.
While the fox wias thinking thus, he fixed eyes on the raven. What a beautiful bird you says he. I never saw any thing so glossy as y shining black feathers. Whpt a twist you I with your neck! And what a noble beak! I dare it holds that cheese as tight as if it was a pair pinchers. Do you know that I think you the fi bird I ever saw; and if your singing is but equ the manner in which you hold yourself', the ni ingale must be nothing to you.
Now you must know that the only noise a ra: can make, is as frightful a scream as you ever he Whenever he begins, I am always disposed to my fingers to my ears. But this silly bird was lighted with the fine speeches of the fox: he k that his feathers were as black as the cunning c ture said, and that he had a good, handsome of his own; and hlie began to think that perhaps might be a fine singer too. So he tuned his P to try ; the cheese dropt out of his beak: this
all the fox wanted; he caught it up, and ran away with it, and left the raven to sing to the crows.
Foxes are never taught what is good and what is naughty. But; if I were a little boy or a little girl, I would rather go without cheese all the days of my life, than gain it by such cheating and wicked speeches as this fox is said to have made.
THE FOX AND THE STORK.
A Fox one day invited a stork to dinner. The good-natured stork was pleased with the civility, and had no doubt that the invitation was meant in kindness. But the fox intended no such thing: he had nothing in his head but the hope to make game of aa animal, who, though of a remarkably sweet temper, he thought was not so wise as himself.
The dinner consisted of a fine, rich soup; for foxes and storks never want but one dish to a meal. The fox set it before his guest in a very broad platter; so that, though there was enough of it, it was hardly more than half an inch deep. I To understand the fox's joke, you must consider the different ways that beasts and birds have of taking, their food, and particularly what is liquid. Beasts have a long tongue; look at the cat when she is drinking her milk; she puts out her tongue, and, laps it up in a minute. It is very droll.; you could not drink your milk as she does. Birds on the contrary have a long bill that they put into the cup, and suck up as much'as they want. Neither beasts nor birds drink as little boys and girls do. The soup was set smoking before them: it had ai fine savoury smell; and, if the stork was sharp-set before, the smell now gave new strength to his apPetite, Ile put in his bill, and the fox put in his.
tongue; but the soup was so shallow, that the could scarcely suck up any thing, The ftb ho ever found himself very well off, and swallowed all in less than a minute. They then parted many civilities,-and the fox said, he hoped lie sh soon have the pleasure to see the stork again.
The stork did not care much about the din his home was not far off; he had plenty there; an spreading his wings, he soon got to a place where could filly make up his disappointment. But was sorry to see any animal capable of so ill-natu a joke. In spite of all his good temper, he was little angry; and he determined to show his invite that foxes are not more cunning than other animal if they would condescend to play such pitiful trici
The next day the stork met the fox. Come, t friend, said the stork, yesterday I dined with yo you must do me the pleasure to eat your mut with me to-day. The bfox consented : he appr ended no trick; he said to himself, Such a gooi natured creature as the stork would not ask me, he had not something nice to treat me with.
The stork's dinner was meat, minced very fi and put into a long narrow-necked bottle. I 1 friend, says the stork, you will stand upon no ce mony with me; I hope you will make as free as you were at home. Saying -this, he put his lon beak into the bottle, and quietly began his dinne The fox did not know what to make of it; at first b licked the gravy and the little morsels that ran do the side of the bottle; at last he began to grow angr Hie said, this was not usage for a gentleman, and would take care to remember it another time.
I hope then, said the stork, you -will remcmx also the dinner you gave me yesterday; I would no punish you too severely; you may go without you dinner for one day, and never be starved. Re member too this maxim, which you will find has great deal of good sense in it, He that cannot take joke, should aevet have the 5a uance to make one.
THE STAG DRINKING.
Yoru have heard, I dare say, how fond some gentilem-en are of riding a hunting, and what a fine Sport they think it is. For my part, I could never quite reconcile myself to the idea of such sport. There is hare-hunting, and fox-hunting, and deerhlunting, beside the hunting of lions and tigers, and other ferocious animals. I think more has been said about deer-hunting, than any of the rest; and there is a fine old song upon that subject, called ChevyChase. The way is for the gentlemen, very early in the morning, to mount upon a number of fine horses, which for their fleetness are called hunters, and to call out a pack of dogs bred for the purpose, that are to run after the deer, and that will, when they-have caught it, tear it almost to pieces, if the gentlemen do not interfere. As soon as the gentlemen have all got on their horses, the huntsman, or groom, blows his horn, and away they ride. When they come to a field, or a proper place, the huntsmIan makes the hounds smell all about, till they find the smell of the deer. At this time of the morming,.the grass is covered with dew, which the hounds brush away as they run. When they have roused the deer, the poor creature is terribly frightened, and sets off as hard as hlie can, anid the dogs after him, and the gentlemen after the dogs. The deer sometimes runs forward, and sometimes almost back again, that hlie nmay get rid of his pursuers; hut the dogs follow him by the smell he leaves on, te.. grass, and wind backward and forward just as he does. Sometimes he takes a great jump to break. the line of the smell, and sometimes he swims across. a river. After some hours running he is generally. caught at last. Poor deer! The filch of deer is cali-
ed venison, and is thought to be much better i beef and mutton.
For my part, I do not quite like this hunting deer. l)o not you think it is very cruel, to call frightening a poor creature, and at last per killing him, fine sport ? The deer is a beautiful final. The male is called a stag, and has gr branching horns. The female is called a hind has no horns, but is a very handsome, inn looking creature. The young deer is called a fa .and is so pretty and good-natured, that ladis merly would call the fawns to come and lie in their chambers. The coat of the deer is beautitiul brown, sometimes a little reddish, so times speckled and mottled with white, and, w the animal is in health, is as smooth as velvet.
A stag once, who had lived free and happy in forest where he -was born, after having frisked a and eaten his diner of grass, wanted to dr There was a pretty running stream not far of smooth and as clear as glass. The stag knew. stream very well, an(l had often tasted its s cool waters. While he was drinking, hecouk help seeing, himself in the stream; and, when had done, he stopped a little longer, to admire own face, just as 1 have seen little girls admire th selves in a glass. le nodded his head. I dec said the stag to himself, I think I am very pr my eyes are so bright, and my nose is so smai slender! But, above all, these fine branching t what a grace they have! I do not wonder that the young hinds should fall in love with me, wish me for a husband. Yet I am surprised dare to be so familiar with so noble a creature, R lick my neck with their tongues, as they do so times.
The stag then beganto look a little further. yet, thought he, I do not half like these They are so slender and insignificant! They like four spindles. What a creature should I -
been, if these pitiful shanks of mine had been answerable to the majesty of my horns!
The stag staid so long, considering and commenting upon his dilerent parts and members, that at last he heard the cry of the hounds. I do not know whether he had ever heard it before- but animals seem from the first to know who are, their enemies. he little mouse ran away the very first time she saw a cat.
Away started the stag, and most gloriously he" scampered. Ile ran faster than the dogs. After all,
-thought he, these-legs are not such bad things. If they are thin and light, they seem on 14it account wily to carry me the faster. Thinking thus, he still run as hard as lie could, up hill and down dale, across the high road, then into a turnip-field, andfliext over a meadow. At last he came to a wood ; aid, trying to force his way through it, he entangled his horns sQ among the bushes, that he could not get free. I lie hounds came up: but the gentlemen -were close by, anti generously saved him from being mangled and killed, as he otherwise would lave been.
Well, thought the stag, when he saw himself safe, I have learned a lesson to day, that I shall remem6er as long as I live. Another time, when I undertke to decide upon the value of a thing, I will conQder not merely whether it looks beautiful, but wat use is to be got from it. I now know that swift legs are more worth having, than the most magnifiCelll horrs that ever was seen.
TILE TRAVELLERS AND THILE MONEY-BAG,
Two poor men set off at the same time from S land to come to London. They found little plo:ment at home, and they had heard that t trade met with better encouragement in the capi They had very, very little money,.and vere ob to go all thq way on foot. As t heyv were both to the same place, they thought they minight as be company for each oiher.
These poor men knew very little of each other fore their journey. But they said, Weare men, men ought to lend a helping hand to one anot If we have nothing but bread and cheese toat will be pleasant to sit together, and eat it under same hedge. If we sleep upon straw, it will delightful to say, Good-night, Good-night, be e close our eyes, and, Up, fellow-traveller, be sUiring, when we wake in the morning. said, I can whistle a number of good songs; the other answered, Though 1 cannot whistle know many pretty stories, some that will make laugh heartily, and some that will almost minak cry. This was all tihe bargain they made, and' they set out.
Nothing very particular happened the two days, except that, as it is almost impossible to vel without money, the little they had at first now grown less. On the third day they were al come to York. It was quite dark, when one of stumbled over something in the road, and taking up, found it was a canvas money-bag, or farm purse. It was heavy with money. The one took it up, was an ill-natured, selfish fellow, that ways wanted to keep every thing that was to himself. Aha! said he; I am iu luck to
I have found a purse of ioney. Just then they pased a cottage with a light in the widow. Let me se, saidthe fnuder. going close to the window, and looking at the money-four, five, six guineas, and nineteen shillings, and I dare say a matter of five shillings worth of half-pence. I declare I have a great mind to buy a little,horse, and ride the rest of the way by myself.
Friend, said his companion, you ought not to have said, I have found a purse of money, but We late found it. I am sure you know it is a rule arnong poor people when they travel together, to call any thing they find in the road a God-send, and slave it equally betVeen them.
You may think as you please, said the other; but I shall not part with a thrthing of it. I will buy a horse as soon as we get into York; and shall aount my nag to-morrow morning, and wish you a very pleasant walk from York to London.
ie that did not find the purse, was now ready to cry, not so much on account of the money, though that would have been very acceptable to him,-as, for vexation to think that a follow-countryman and fellow-traveller could be so selfish and ill-natured. lie had no time to cry however, when they heard three or four horsemen coning along the road, hiding pretty fast, and yet talking very earnestly. They tend to the talk, and found the horsemen were king of a farmer who had been robbed by highway-men as he went home from York-market, Wal had lost his purse, containing six guineas, and' ai6teen shillings in silver, and ive-shillings-worth Af-alf-pence.
Come along, said the selfish traveller, all in at, to his companion, let us turn into this wood,hide ourselves. If they find us with the purse
our Possession, they will think we are the thieves,
we shall be hanged.
I shall do no such thing, said the other: these
ple want to return it to the right owner, and the
right owner must have it. Besides, you are no ger a fit fellow-traveller for me. You would allow me to say, We have found a purse, w you thought nobody would claim it, and I do understand your saying, We shall be hanged, i pursuit is made after the thief.
The horsemen, though they could not see the sellers, lwheard their voices, and called to ther stop. They did so, and were questioned, and liged to deliver up the purse. It would have still harder with the selfish traveller, who trem( and stammered so much, that they thought hl the thief; but his generous companion, who hd tended no harm, told a plain, honest story, convinced the horsemen, who in consequence missed them both. I am glad, said he, to done you this service: we are now ahnost at gates of York; Ishall therefore only bid you night, and wish you to-morrow, as you intend (1do by me, a very pleasant walk from Yo London.
ITHE MILLER, HIS SON, AND HIS ASS.
WHAT a pretty thing is a village-fair! It pens but once a year, and the young lads and all come there in their best clothes. There are or three streets of booths slightly put together boards for the occasion, that are taken downcarried away, as soon as the fair is over. It sometimes one day; sometimes two: two is enough. These booths are hung with ribbands cloaks, andl silk-handkerchiefs for sale. Upi table of the booth are laid knives, and'scissarsy snuff-boxes, and boxes of Tunbridge-ware, dolls, and drums and fifes, and flutes, and fi
and Jeers-harps, and rattles, and pretty pictures and children's books, and sugar-plums, and gingerbread, and oranges, and nuts, and apples. Johnny buys Betty a fine taudry ribband to tie round her cap. Whatever one person buys, and gives to another, is called a fairing. Then the fair is crowded with pretty clean boys and girls. They beat the drums, and squeak with the flutes; and there is such a noise, you cannot think how much., Every body is in a hurry, and busy, and happy. When I was a little boy, I remember I thought I never saw so
eharining and happy a place as a village-fair.
But every body does not come to the fair for amusewent; some people have very serious business. The buyers are amused with their purchases; but the se leUers are very grave, thinking how much money
they thall carry lomne to buy beef and mutton for their wives and children. The serving-men and serving-maids come to hire thenslves: servants in the-country always hire themselves for a year, till uiext fair-time, at the least; and a very good ser.
vant loves his master as much as if he were his father, and is as unwilling to go away from him.
Then there is a field, not tar from the booths, where horses are bought and sold, and sometimes cows,
and asses, and sheep.s
A miller once set off for a village-fair, about four
miles from his mill, to sell his ass. I am afraid this miller had grown poor, else I do not think he would have sold his ass. The miller was an old man with Uhite hairs, that walked along leaning on a stick.
lie took with him his son, a pretty little boy, about seven years old, N'ho had a great desire to see the fair, and his father told him, that if he sol Jiis ass
welt, the little boy should bring home a drum.
Away they went; the miller very thoughtful and
y serious, for lie was a seller ; the boy, as merry a cricket, kissed his father's hand, and thanked
a thousand times for being so good as to take
ln to the fair. But, Charley, my boy, said the
miller, voAnt ist walk all the way: I am an man, and cannot get along without a stick, ad I shall walk: You were seven years old last day. If we f~iue our ass with riding upcm he wil not look handsome, and people will no lieve he is so good an ass as we have found him ti We will rest for an hour or two on the grass, bave a little bread and cheese and ale, before v of to come home again.',
Oh, father, says the little boy, I am snre 11. walk very well; and, if I find myself a little ti in coming home, I will beat upon my new d and the sound of that will make me as fresh as bad not moved a step.
So they went along to the fair. Many were going the same road to the same place;4 on horses, some in carts, and even those oni most of them, walked faster than the old miller his little son. These people were very merry; some of them, as merry people are apt to be, a im p ert inen t.
What fo, ls are that old man and his son, oem, to walk on foot, when they have an ass s able to carry one or the other!
The miller was very good-natured, "nd not inzg that any body should be displeased with he did, lie uas a little afraid before, poorly whether Charley would be able to hold out. So took up the little boy in his hand, and set hin the ass; and Charley was not at bottom disple with the change, though lie was a very good and cheerfully walked a-foot, when his fathT him.
By and by three jolly farmers rode by. stopped to look at the travellers. Why, youI little urchin, said one of them, are not you asli to be riding at your ease, while your poor old 6 trudges by your side ?
This speech made poor Charleyfeel very unc fortable. He had always been a dutiful child,
mudvit, K-r lo, Iravoe it tho'uVht, oh Ie.le ai. k:L o c v. i e slid dow n froin the asLs a4 Ltas lie coland Said1 Pray, pray, father, do Yuridt, zn d Ie 11W walk. The miNr did not Akh at arny body siould form an i opinion of Cluricy, and coasenfed.
The next party that camd up was three far.-nors' 'ie.What a pretty boy said one of them. A 3itwahly oJr so, but that only makes, him Io~k Aw* dciticAt and interesting. I amn afraid one of hsfhetc is hurt,with walking; look if he does not go a lttle, late! WVhat a brute of a man must his fa-, 4rbe, to 'jog on at his ease, and make this sweet chikl limp after him as welt as he can! The iitt Ird, and changed'his plan. Come, Charley, 'idhe, we will both ride: I, hope every body wil tik'that right.
~Th next man that came meant Ibelieve to- pld th T-Ue. iHe had heard whaxt the others had sai, a n tled to see the good-natared pains the miller ~tO tolease every body. Pray, friend, said he tthe father, is that ass your own:? One would think ntby the uninerciful way in -which you load him. Bt, I suppose, you expect to kill him by the jourMand to sell his skin at the fair to make pocketboks.
The miller had tried almost all the schemes hie Coud think of, and had not been able to pass along ibo bing jeerecd at. At last he thought of one He le pulled a large'stake out of the hedge; ota rope, and tied the ass's feet, two and twolp
and imde then fatst to the'si ake.Nor
rhcY4 said lie, as the ass must not carry us, let
1U to' 1 carry the ai. I corviess tlis wai a very 1Y scime ; bfft what conid the potr ,milMer do?
etiy co qld h ardly lift htis enad of the t, o11.1 ~a Vhka! Ibo hoh holi said the people, this is' tlt!ra kgest sight we ever sw
lltspasedl just by a brid'-e. Meom, they, had
two steps upon tke bidge, the ass was frightened
with the noise, and struggled very much: lost his hold ; and the ass fell into the wai! was very well for the poor creature that they not got to the middle of the bridge; otherwise, his legs tied together, he could not have li himself, and must infallibly have been drawn Come, Charley, said the old man, I see foolish mistake I have made. We ought to.1 to the opinions of such as have a great deal ofr ness and a great deal of sense to advise us, ht to the gabble of people who perhaps make silly remarks only in hopes to vex the passers-b
So they went on to the fair in the same ma that they had set out. If people laughed or jo the miller took no notice, but quietly kept way. Conducting himself this, he speedily his ass; andl Charlc came home with his f after dinner, beatinghis drum, and laughing wi himself at the people that laughed at him in. morning. He was however sometimes sorry at he when he recollected that he should perhaps see lis dear ass again.
THE TOWN MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY McOUSE
PERHAPS you may think that fables are only amusement for children. But without mention to you how highly Esop and the other fam makers of fhbles have been thought of all over world, I am going now to tell you a thing, wh will convince you how much you are mistaken.
You have heard of Rome, a fine old city of Ital The consuls and emperors of Rome once govern the world, that is, as much of the world as the knew -almost any thing about, for America and tany-Bay had then never been heard of. In
lime of these consuls a: mperors there were a great many clever men, I. T re a great many wise and learned books 'Th, v are called the Latin authors. Now of all thedwse Latin authors it is agreed that Virgil an~d Hforace are the finest. I will tell youa fable th t was written by Horace; and, if ever you learn Latin, you shall then read it in Horace's own words.
There was a mouse that lived in the country; 1 dare say at Horace's firm that he was so fond of; for Horace lived at a pretty white house with green window-shutters: hlie had a large garden of vegetables and flowers; with a fine fish-pond in front; aid behind, a beautiful serpentine walk through a wood.
This mouse had a cousin that lived in town. I believe his home was at the palace of MAzecenas, the emperor's prime minister of state, that was built with pillars of marble, and ceilings of stuccowork.
Now, though the house where the country-mouse lived was only a sort of a cottage, a little better than the ordinary cottages round it, yet he loved his relations and friends, as much as the best mouse that wore a head; and he begged and prayed his liwn-cousin to come some day and take a dinner with him. The town-mouse consented. When the visitor came, the country-mouse showed Nin all he had to show, the fish-pond, and the garden, and the wood, and how prettily the white Iouse looked with the green window-shi utters. They sat down to dinner. The host had ranged all the Provisions in a hollow tree, that they might be sure "ot to be disturbed. ie placed a nice soft cushion of noss for his guest, and set before him a little iece oF bacon, and a morsel of beef that had-been .i)ed for soup, and a bit of cheese, and a golden
pin. The country-mouse sat in a lower place, d ate nothing buta crust of bread, and a piece of
the hard rind o" leavin- all tl)f,, rest, N
as polite to his vi *1 as Cousin. lie 'las si or It
Could be* and hopect De would be able to j a (!inner, ajd assured 'Ni-P. that the cileese W ,is elf the Ifincst cr('aw, and t!w pippin was frcA
'T ade a nl) e
tnen J. The city-inense however In, Vical : Lc. could not relish sucli conwry4are. (!:inner ho asived. his entertainer very gravely, 11 coulfl be contest to wis' e his life in such a v. rt hole ? Consider, said the toW U-ITIOUS01 31011 are, yonng, anti sbotihl enjoy yourself. I'Qu shot], men arid.,ciiies. When once vou 1 no'Nv thc w
'you will despise this ULIStIC I& as MUCh as The town-mouse -a-ve the country-mottse account of -,A hat A finc thing it Nvas to go C tfi,464 last lie consented to go back -witli him t iIalace of V ,-, cnas on the E's'uiline hill.
A ior) and Xcary Journey they had of it fbonA mmi could have widlicci it in t1tree or
hours a niouse Nvas obLiged to ileeVone nigm 0 road. Tlijq grot to Roule the ticxt i igh,,, and ilcritly and s 'fily to the town-triouse's 1)mue, country-monse Nvas out of his sciises to see '%y fine home it v, as. The, rowns were almost as and lofty IN a church; the wiflis weye adorncAJ lookin-glasses and gilding;' and immense ch liers of silver Ming fvoul the ecitin.Z.,
I cont .ss, sayshe, Lbegiii to think lloracc's v#ts.but it in iscrubic hole.
f tllolwllt answered the WI'VII-mousi" -1 &-111'r N-611 to- yOUr skj
e Iien led his 0-itor into the room i,\ 14,cre cenas and his Tlic'mice cli"
upq 'pori the table. 'I hcre was,-nothing left hi dcsserk; btTtsucbadc,,,,i*t! T111aeNveruptlic-al, i1nd- ice;-crearns,- and welons, aud grialws', and, E*vvesi and. peyfum6s, and :su,,,ar 41 Lburlit
The'toA41-mousa -felt llhil clf af 110111 e. tkyffiouse 6isked AbotIt as if he had beviC
lie had nevcr seeni suich a sight ia his life. Nh v, hcrp, said he, are poiiis nurhto laist Horace for a miouth
lie ivas so Ion--smelling and exa! -iiei;ig kh ii
cat plates, Obat lie had riot tastod a, bit, vdierl the door burst open. It was the butler aud live or-six footmen, who were corne to clear asvsv te des~serf,
_111d Prepare every thig for their n-fte s saper. Withi themi pranced in a couple cf lioe lialiatt grey-hounds But, what was worst of all, at the k'& sOf the, 1rey-hounds camie, jumping along, the largest tom-cait you ever -saw. Tjhe mice wyere terrilY frightened, and scampered away as fast as they could. But thre walls of the marble dining-hall. wvere so well fitted, that there was not a chink for so ,much as a spider to hide himself. It wa~ almost a~ miracle, that thle mice escaped, and at last got to. It
-drk, dirty hole in son-e wainscot,. where thre townmnouse was accuse orned to- SepCome said lie to his gacstA, I dare say yIoil are tired ; you will stay "ang here to -nighf.I
Not a minute, said the counutf -nouse, flint I Ci4ui blelp! As soon as every thiig, is o11r.-e more quiet, I will take my leave of cities and ministers of state for ever. I dare say I shRt11 Inot relcovi'r Ow- frbrht I bave been in for a fortnighf.- fQivc me a temperate life and a'safe one. ,I shrall thank yoa, tIiines dayil have to live, for the-lessom 1you have taug'ht ~me. I shall' o owe now, and khow,' better than
E~rI (lid before,' the blessing )of a boilow tree-land a crust of bread,.
2A r ABLES.
THE MISER AND HIS TREASCUE.
A roon man once scraped together by little little a sum of fifty guineas. It was all got by labour of his own hands, and 1 believe it was so years before he had made it so much. In the lage where he lived, they had known him from a be and a smart, merry boy he was. He was alw laughing from morning till night. This was tainly laughing too much; but the boy meant harm, and every body laughed with him. P fellow, lie had never learned to read or write: thought he had no chance to be wise; he had he something about merry and wise; and as he coi 1 not be wise, he determined to be merry, that might he sure to be something.
Well, when he was about twenty or thirty ye t old, the fancy took him, that he would save a pen or two-pence a day, till he had got fifty-guines. he saved only two-pence a day, he must havc fifteen years about it; but I believe he got some seats, and a little matter that his father and u r had left him when they died, which made him i quite so long. I wonder what lie intended to with his fifty guineas when hlie had got it? Did mean to buy a horse? or a pleasure-boat? or fi gold watch with a gold seal to it? What could do with fifty guineas? You shall hear: but do n be in a hurry now!
It was very hard for him always to lay -by tw pence out of the wages of his d(lay's work. He ney bought any oranges or cherries. When other p ple went to the fair, hlie staid at home. When oth people got a little bit of meat or of cheese, he b nothing but dry bread for his dinner; anrid, ins
of beer, he drank only water. I assure you, when xpeopie work all day ploughing or digging, they ou,,ht to drink beer, and some strong beer too.
But what people thought the strangest of all was, that this flow, who had been so merry and goodnatured a boy, grew very serious, and, what was worse, very ill-tempered too. lie hardly ever spoke, and w hen people asked him a question, he answered them as roughly as possible. The fact was, he was always thinking of his money, and .the thought of it would not even let him sleep of nights. Then lihe was so much troubled what to do with it, and how to keep it safe. \lhen hlie lived in a house, it was a poor sort of' a house, with a door that a man could almost burst open with his foot; and, when hlie lived in a lodging, he had, but one room, and other people sometimes came into the room. So hlie went to the schoolmaster of the village, and begged the favour of him to take care of it. The schoolmaster was a very good man, and kept it quite safe. But the poor man was inot a bit the easier: hie thought the schoolmaster might lose it, might have his house robbed, or might die, and the people who came after Ihim might not believe that so great a heap of money belonged to so poor a man. As he could neither Write nor read, he did not understand much about receil)s and promisory notes.
At last, when hlie had made it up full fifty guineas, went to the schoolmnasltor, anid begged he might save it in his own possession. And now we come to we hat hlie d(lid with it. He thought about horses, nd pleasure-boatls, and watches. But noneof these logs pleased him. When hlie got home, he crept o the darkest corner of his room, and began to Mit his moneyv. lie thought fifty guineas in gold Asked prettier than all the horses and pleasure-boats the world. Bult where should hlie put them? lie hOght of twenty people to take care of them, and w'enty places to hide them. At last he recollected sohtary field a great way from any path, and he
determined to bury them there. He wen Jield, and walked round the field, and every corner. By and by he spied a lar which stuck so deep in the ground that noth the top of it could be seen. With ag trouble hepul!ed it up. There was ten hollow place. The miser now took out his knife, and made a round mark in the nidd place, and shovelled out the mould, till h a hole big enough to hold his fifty guin then put down the stone again, and itl 1 and as snug as if it had never been move
It was a od while before hlie could pre himself to go away. Once or twice hea stone gently by one corner, and peepi were the guineas! lie had not gone the two fields, before hle came back. He round to see if there wais any body near raised the stont as before: there were the lie came twice again before night, and the he took out is money and counted it.
Unluckily Wicked Will happened tol while at work on the other side the hedge. Will was a geod-foi-nothing, drunken had neither truth nor honesty in him. If had come but once, Will would have th thing of the matter; but hie was surprised come so often. lie recollected what a saving man the miser as, and began to truth. Night was no sooner completely Will w~nt to the slpot, took away the a walked and ran twenty miles before day-li he might never be found.
The next morning, as soon as it was miser set out again to look at his money believe he would never have been able to work as long as it staid there, he would ha to look at it so often. You may think sorry he was, when he raised the stone it gone. Hie cried and screamed, and a
madan. lie staid there so long, that at last the mer, to whom the field belonged, opened the gate, o rode in, to consider whether he should lay the ed down for 4rass, or plough it for corn. He prelly saw the miser and his distress. Hhat is the matter with you, my good fellow? sid the farmer.
O,.my money, my money! said the miser. What money ?
my money! my fifty guineas! Where are they?
I buried them yesterday under this stone, and y are gone.
Buried them said the farmer, that is a strange to treat money. WVhy did not you keep it at and then it would have been always ready
Use! said the miser. 'I would not have spent a nY of it, to save jmyvself from starving. For all world I would not have made it a farthing l
1the fifty guineas.
Oh, if that is the case, said the farmer, there is luber of pebbles in yon corner; fetch fifty of
and put them in the hole, and they will do Ybit as well as guiru&ms for every thing but use, o had saved a little against you were sick or I should have thought you a wise man; but o determined never to change one of your guitake my word for it you have lost nothing
what do you think happened after this to Poor miser? Hie never got his money again.
40edays he was so sorry, that he could hardly aork. But by degrees he forgot his loss : and
cannot tell how it happened, when he was er than his neighbours, hie ate better, and
led better, than when lie had fifty guineas thab
lved never to change.
TIE FOX AND GRAPES.
I no not know of my own know ledge th are fond of grapes But Esop says they that is enough fbr us.
A fox once found his way into a very fine I suppose he had missed his road, for the f walk of the fox is into the poultry-yard, may pick up a chicken or two for his diner. there were a great maniiy fine flowers; but t did not care for that. Men are very fond of and so are bees and o other insects; but bi beasts think nothing about them; you i either smell at a rose. There was also a -r of fine fruit; and, as Esop's fox was fond f I dare say he was delighted to see the app pears, and nectarines and prachlies. Ie Nal and down the garden, and was so pleased wid thing, that for the life of him he did not kn to choose.
At last he came to a wall that was all cove the finest grapes you ever saw. They wer juice almost ready to burst; the purple o turned black, and the green were so ripe, t looked as if you could see through them. the wall was covered with grapes; but tha quite exact. The ladies and gentlemnci thered all the clusters that hung u ithin tfli but higher up the vines were still full. mnent the fox saw them, his choice was resolved to make his dinner here without any further.
The fox is a very little animal, though nimble. His ambition was greater than his s He jumped, and jumped, you never saw su
n your life. First he could not jump high enough stafterwards he mended his jumps, and I believe juped quite as high as the clusters. But, I do know how it was, not a single grape could he catch. At last hie was quite tired and almost lamed th the efforts he had made. The fox was extremely ortified. lie looked up; there hung the grapes, but not one for him! lie determined then to carry of bisdisappointment with a spirit. What a ftool hve I been! said he. I can see now plain enough
the grapes are sour, and not fit'to be eaten.
Froni this fable it has come to be a proverb, when man pretends not to wish for what hlie cannot have, say to him, The grapes arc sour. If you ask a haymaker, whether he would not like that the nae-house were his? perhaps he will answer, I indeed, he likes his mud-cottage as well. The was not wrong to endeavour contentedly to go itout what he could not get, but he need not have an untruth.
THE LION AND THE MOUSE.
Slion you know is the king of animals. He ine creature; and the proots he gives of his ngth are such as we hardly know how to believe.
s said to be very generous. He is so formed that must have meat to eat, and there are no butchers'
ps the forests; so hlie is obliged to kill his meat elf- But they say hlie never kills any creature 'ptor cruelty; and that he will not touch a Sb~t when he is almost starving with hunger.
ry proud, and will never eat of a dead body
y other animal has killed.
S'as once sleeping in a forest. A poor lit-
le imomse, I-a thou-Iht no harm, was plav)ill alid in one of hi's fisks ran argainst the tIi awvaked him. The lion, angry -,iith being dis an I -,) knowin,' ho had done it, put out ll: and lik p tilt motise. I1 he mouse 'was t
fi~irCJ, and thewh he was going to
amomert, lf of a mouse is of q6
It lu ie to himo, as -,Iw, life of a rhio .41 -,hen the flo looked at his victiml,I rot find in his heart to burt such a poor littl It.e set hima down Ycry geatly. The m~ous p)c%- ax'iay is taA t-, 85 he cohil. and wis s joyecl with his csc ',pe, flmt Ie had not thilte
1 hankl' you! to the k in, of beats:
A few dasaflerwan,' Ps thle lu vms Pa av-y, nd amusing biv se I in the forest, e peiied unawvares to entangle himself in afa tIt sme sailors had spread, wowre at lion for kingr George, to be put into the To London. Wlcn lie felt his situatiolli.lhe as munch fri-hiened as the mouse. had fieen th day. Fe strum'gled, and sprang, and tos 1 seif about, but all to no nianner of purpoe he oily made the business worse. Ile roard terror, till all the forest rung, -kilh the sound.
fheu poor mouse, wxho was no, ffar olfb -ef noise, and kne-w the voice of the animalI ti%?eatcd hunii so generously. lie ran to examie w~as the matter, and whether he could give sislance. He presently saw how it was. A through so very little, is an extraordinary and can gnaw through brick-walls. Ile setW to g-naw the mneshes of" the net, and lie'w, fired tiltlihe had done his work. In tx 0 hours lie had gnawed through so many th at fle lion rose up, as free !I beast as eve.
lo ssinexpressibly astoi isii.d at his def and hi~s deliverer ; and~ you may think hoir was that hie had behaVed geaeronUs'ly,84en te offended bini, and woke him out of his slep
T~E OLD MAN AND THE BUNDLE OF STICKS.
AT Christmas you know the days are very short; nd the nights very long. Yet neither young peo! nr old want to sleep more at Christmas than thy do at Midsummer. Therefore they are obliged briploy and amuse themselves more in the house' td kss in ithe fields at Christmas than they do at summer. This is-the original reason- of' Christames, of puzzles, and riddles, and Do you n how to do what I can do ? One of these games can put the candle where every body in the to can see it, and you cannot: can you do that. An old man-was sitting by his fire-side, while his k.ldren were amusing themselves with Christm:nas
n He did not appear to take any part in their ueents, though he listened to every 'thing that going on. Christmas games are more properly
mployment of young people than of old ones, t he lifted up his headband said, One of you,
9 ie a faggot of sticks from the wood-house ?
rn way, and fetched it in a moment. What yo want it for, father ? said he. I. am sure
Is a very good fire.
You have all been telling your puzzles,. said the e; now I will tell you one. Which of you break this bundle of sticks? I can, said Sam; I Can, said Bob. For young people almost s think they can do every thing, before they
tried, or considered how it is to be done.
fa the bundle down, said the father, and let the
get try first. William is too young; but I agCharles thinks he can manage it. They
from the youngest to the eldest. One lifted
td clapped it to his knee. Another put it
on the ground, and put his knee to it; a h upon it; a fourth stamped upon it ; a fifth pinching it with the hinge of the door. not do it, father, said they. Thei I will the old man.
Fetch me a knife! Oh father, said' you asked us to break the bundle of stid J cut it. Be quiet, boy! said the old man..
The faggot was bound together Nvith a of withy. The old man cut this cord. T got immediately tumbled to pieces. He up the sticks, one by one, and broke easily as you would crack a nut. The laughed till they could not contain th But the old man went on very gravely, t broken every stick in the faggot. What were not to think of that way, said one) all.
Very true, my boys, answered the f almost all cases it is by wit more than by that difficulties are conquered. Ie that 'o his head, will accomplish his object with part of the toil, that another must emwl has haids, but no bead.
FABLE X V.
THE DISPUTED oYSTER.
Two men, walking together onl the beach of the ,halp)ened to spy an oyster., Ah t! said one of enm), look here, my friend! what a fine oyster! th of them happened to be very fond of oysters; t your oyster-eaters say, an oyster is spoiled, if is cut; and they haid neither of them a knife. What was to be done' I cannot tell what two geneos men would have done in such a case, but each These men loved anll oyster better than his friend. hey both ran to take up the poor fish: they ocked their heads against each other, and were
t going to fight.
Cme, come, said one, we will not go to blows bot an oyster neither! That would be too foolish. e rule is, He that sees a God-send first, he is the
In that case, said the first, the oyster is me, for I showed it you. Do not pretend I am leal-sighted neither, said the second; I have as good eyes as my neighbour. A long while before
ou spoke, I saw something lying on, the beach, dwas almost sure it was an oyster. They could
ot settle who saw it first.
SThey might have drawn lots, or tossed up a
fPenny, to see who should have the oyster. But t were grave gentlemen, and thought that was childish a way to settle an affair of this imPrace.
h ey were in the height of their dispute, a fellow happened to be coming along the beach, lived in the same village. le will take Tom
to be judge, said one. Agreed, said the other.
ame up, and they told him the story.
Sare determined to go to law before me for
Silence the court! Who has got an oyster They had neither got a knife. In their burry to cat the oyster, they forgot that they not open it. ,Tom had got one.
Now, gentlemen, let me hear the plead both sides: what have you to say for yonrsel
I spoke first! I saw it first! I have t right I have a better!
Tom opened the oyster. Ie looked at one claimants, and then at the other, and then oyster. It was a fine fat fellow as ever yo Nothiing could be more tempting. Tom his mouth, and swallo-ed it in a moment. 11 with great gravity gave the two d(isputants them a shell. They stared.
You agreed to go to law for the oyster, said Did you never hear that people Who go to I something they dispute about, are often ob pay as much as it is worth in expences, n get nothing better than an oyster-shell f pains?
So both the men laughed heartily at To and owned that he could not have decidtl lie had got a fine oyster, and they had got a at least as good as an oyster, by the bargain.
THE GOOSE WITH GOLDEN EGGS.
A BoY had once a goose that laid him e a golden egg. This must be one of Esop's there are no such geese in our days.
I wonder what a golden egg would be If it were all solid gold, it would be work o rffy pounds. Fifty pounds a day, is eigh'1
sand wo hundred and fifty pounds a Jea fl,is boy was tolerably rich.
Ric -men arc Sometimes apt to be whimsical; it iswonder therefore that a rich boy should have
-so. 'What could he want to buy, that fifty.
da day would not purchase?' I suppose he
ite to buy a g.Old watch, and a gold-lace cQat, a gilded coach with six long-tailed horsess. and*! unhappy y because he could not buy them all in
If I hlad been the possessor of this extraordinary *
I eI think I should have lovedL her very-much.
*-r'had a dog, or a cat, or aiiy living_-creature,
I'called my ow4n, and that depended on me for
&W that I did riot love,and take a great deal; ofcare of., For this goose I would have inclosed a' suiful Rid with iron palisades for the goose to
_Mkin, arid have made a clear fish-pond in the
'*4&of it for her to swim, in. L would have built O e'warm shed for her to sleep i n, -with- a fresh
- i* Oclean -straw every- day, I would have fed' Af-wi the fiuesi barley, and have given 'he'r plenty
4 es,-and (lucks, andi swvans, if she liked it,
- ,ep her company. I could have done -no less
themost profitable friend I had.
Tshe silly, boy f am tell ing you of did -nolie of
asethingsj. 1 believe lie took care thatt nobody-&ui steal her. She, had lived with, him several ft,-, -aid never failed of her egg, a (lay; so that' ulgrateftfl boy- did not thinIk hilusvlf at 'Al
Q'd to hler for what she brought hirn' -and would e been very fiIRGh out of lerrppr Wtithl hier,, if she
1oc 11 ssed. o1 her egg.
.) al-this bov, as 1. watstelling youj,: did niqt flft1t Polunds 'a dlay eniolgh,' and was, var tin -. 1-hat lie hiadnot got more. fIIC'wanted to every thingl at. once. 'Withi such a quantityIl e was -never used to -be idisappointwo
-I *hell hie had spent hili fift y Founds in th~e
I -he was sitretoi-sm several thiags before
-"bhat lie azlied to buy, bat he 6U50~Q
'I Could Fot.-- A-
36 FrA B L .
I am ashamed to tell you Iv hat this wi. did. I have already mentioned that lws love his goose at all; and, though she ids for him, he did not feel thankfid to her. youbelieve, that he got a great knife, and her?
You perverse ill-natured goose! said 14 then d(lid not you lay me two eggs a day? W you always keep me so poor.
As she brought himhn an egg every day, he he should find a great many eggs in h There was not one. He found nothing but barley in her crop, which in time would abled her to lay more eggs.
The boy now was as poor as any ofl beggar-boys you see in the streets. Th obliged to take him into the parishi-worou he might not be starved; and I cannot ay greatly pity such an ungrateful, wicked bo
THE BOYS AND THE FROGS.
SOMEi school-boys were just come out of You cannot think what a noise they made. seemed to be all talking at once. One snat another's hat, and ran away with it. A jumped over his comrade's back. Somrn some ran, and almost pushed one anotl They were all in high glee.
They presently came into a field. Some t ;d balls;Aome had marbles; and a few<
fly their paper-kites. In one corner of there was a pond, and by the side of the was a number of frogs that were basking an themselves. Poor harmless frogs! Why sh a frog be happy as well as a boy ?
e- inconsiderate boy caught up two or three s, and began to throw hem at the frogs. When one boy does a naughty thing, others are apt todo thesame. I will lay you a halfpenuy,
e, that I can hit that large old one. I will
4hat little skinny one in. a corner, said a second, ici is harder to do than yours. op says, one of the frogs, seeing the cruel Icief that was going -to happen, spoke to the ys I rather think it was one good and humane y that spoke to the rest. I will tell you however deat was said.
Stop a minute, I beg of you, and consider what u are going to do. If you had one of the frogs Syour hand, which I would not advise you, to because I should by afraid you would hurt
you would feel how his heart beats. What shining eyes he has got! 'Vhat a vast way Jum! Ho w nimble lie must be! God gave him seyes, and his legs, and his joints, and his heart,
all his motions. If you threw a stone at me Might hurt me very much. But to throw it at PO little frog! You might break one of his legs,. Stwo, or dash out his brains. If you killed him, neld never take his pretty jumps any more, but ld lay as still as the stone you have in your hand.
E broke his legs, he could not help himself, ould pine a day or two in misery, and then
When you are laughing, always consider r the sane thing that makes you laugh, makes oter creature cry, or be miserable. None but e of a boy, who deserves to have every bone skin broken, would knowingly laugh at anomsery.
boys were convinced, and all of them agreed
he would never more run the risk of breaking
legs, or knocking out one of his eyes.
li sorry to say, that boys are tod apt to be .Trhey will. sometimes throw stones at the birds as they hop along in the hedge. But
what I think is worst of all, is taking a bird's nests, and thus making a mother i for the loss of all her young ones. A bird her home and all her happiness: what ood to you to disturb her? I hope, my deaCl may depend upon you, that you will never things..
THE MIGE IN COUNCIL.
THnr is no living creature so small, thie mites that live in a cheese, as not to be of feeling both pleasure and pain. It is that we cannot live without hurting any tiwe cannot: The great fish eat the little great birds and beasts prey upon the sal the little birds eat worms and flies; and we and sheep and calves. When they are call them beef and mutton and veal, and taw forget that they were once alive.
It is very right to kill some creatures beca hurt us. It is not at all necessary thatW have our clothes full of fleas, or our- hts rats and mice. Nobody but a fool would S these inconveniences, and have his houtse thing about him spoiled, because he woid sent that these creatures should be kil did not kill the rats and mice, we should be in the situation of the king and q story of Dick Whittington, ho, as soon dinner was set on the table, saw it devouret creatures, before they had time to touch a rule therefore should be, never to kill but in case of necessity, and neVer to enough to make sport to ourselves Of tures pain.
say you know why it happens that you arcely go into a house where you will not find.
The reason is because cats a7re very clever at ing the rats and mice. The greatest praise you e to a cat, is to say that she is a good
e was once an old house that from the cellar. garret abho~nded with mice. It had been handsome house once, but now it was so that nobody lived in it, and it was hired by one for a store-house. In one part of it he ooks, in another part blankets and drapery, I another sacks full of corn. No part of this was spared by the nice. They nibbled, and e books, and gnawed the blankets, for their, Sand they dined every d(lay plentifully on the an's corn. Ie presently saw that he had have no store, than have it all spoiled and d by the mice. Ie therefore brought a finm
loved-him very much, and that he had great care of ever since she was a kitten ; aid
to catch the mice. The cat understood her
very well; the mice had no apprehension
eny; and an immense number of them Allled.
that were left alive began to perceive their n and kept close in their holes, where the i not follow them. They wished now, that let alone the gentleman's books and blanhad fed more sparingly on the corn. Pert he would not have brought his cat into
They dared not stir, night or day. ght the cat was always awake. The sleep Very light, and the smell of a mouse wilt
jeump p ad run at any time. They were
drved to death.
h they all got together in some corner, Sat's reach, with the intention to consult
shouldd do,. This meeting was nothing
their meetings had been before the -cat
came. Then they had all of them their bell and were merry, and capered and frisked ab mad things. Now every one was hungry a lancholy. Half their numbers were missing; and mothers and children had all fillen a prey, terrible cat. Some ran,,dy was grievously w against the attacks of this furious wild beast the wisest mouse among them could not te remedy to recommend. AVhilethe old ones sat mute with doubt and a pert young mouse said he had thought of pedient that would exactly do. Perhaps,
no of you have considered the caso so clO have. If you do but recollect, you will fi even a cat can be in only one room of thi house at a time, and that all the difficulty is, to which room that shall happen to be. A in as manv legs as a cat; and we could present out of her r'ach, if we did but know whensl coming. But the misfortune is, that she along slity, and is upon us in a minutes whe thinking nothing of the matter. Now my is, that we should get one of those little hollo that children sometimes hang to the neck of a and litsten it upon this cat, and then I defy, creep so slowly, but that this bell shall go tingle, every step she takes.
All the young mice were in admiration at speech of their playfellow. They agreed t was a mouse of genius, and a great benca the whole community of mice. What hap they should pass, when the bell was onc upon the cat's neck! They should laugh lt old enemy, and might peep out, and then away, before she could catch th nm.
As soon as silence was made, the oldest m the company begged to be heard. He said t speech of his pert young friend was a ver speech indeed! The expedient hlie had hit u excellent, and it was impossible to make mo
W.bj(ction to it. 'his was, who should hang the upon the cat's neqk ? But, as they had the hapness to have one nouse among thern of so great indoi, perhaps they night have another not infeor in courage, who would do the feat that the I g gentleman had recommended.
Young mict saw that the old one was laughi g at them, and he that had made the speech, was ashamed, that hlie slunk away to his hole. At last bieve they agreed that the best thing they could was for all of them to go away, and look out Or se other house, that was not guarded by so a cat.
ITHE COUNTRY-MAID AND HER MILK-PAIL.'
IN the pictures in your book of London Cries, Will see that some of the hawkers carry their
in baskets upon their heads. There is the t-man, Buy my strawberriest fine scarlet strawes! and the fish-man, Buy my lobsters! buy ikled salmon! I have often wondered that, ey walk careless and merry along the streets, i baskets do not topple off upon the pavement. e milk-maids sometimes carry their pails of milk the same manner; uand this I am told is much re commonuo in France than it is in England. A country-girl was once walking ith her pailof milk upon her head: I suppose she was a ech girl. She was generally as merry as a cket: you never saw a creature witlh such life spirits. Shite was always chattering, and her ter was extremely diverting to almhnost every Y that heard it, because she was very good-naSThe, only person that sometimes was not with ii, was her mother; because this
merry disposition of the girl continually M forget something that her motherhad told, h The mother was a very good, but a very p man; with a great deal of care she saved e the week to buy them a Sunday's dinner, an a great deal of hard work she made their little as clean as a penny to eat it in. The i cheerfully helped her mother in all thi; she; and scrubbed as well as the best. But the told you, she was so thoughtless; she lost one she broke another, she tore her shift, and fo buy capers to the mutton. Youn will be su when I tell you that this faulty girl was as a woman : her mother was quite ashamed ) You are sometimes thoughtless now but I o you will cure yourself soon, and wien you a teen or twenty, will be the most considerate cin the world.
The mother had tried a hundred ways t her. Sometimes she scolded the girl, and th girl cried bitterly, for she could not bear t mother should be angry with her. Somelti mother cried too, and said gently, Now: Phill have broken the dish that should hold our Si dinner: indeed, you will ruin me by your c ness! They had nothing to live upon but th fits of the milk of one pretty cow, which they every day and sold at the market-town.
At last the mother thought, that, if she ga girl something of her own, she would learn t care of that. So she said, Phillis, if you wA good girl all this week, you shall have Satu pail of milk to yourself, and all that it' sells fo. be your own. The girl was very proud of thi posal, and thought it would be so womanly to market with something she could call her own tried to be very good. One morning she for take off the cream before she drew the milk fro leads to carry it to sell; but as this was the only
committed in the whole week, her mother fore her.
& day came, and you might now see Phillis with a pail of milk onil her head that was all her own. ow, said Phillis to herself, I will be the most carel and thrifty creature that was ever heard of. bvery ody shall be surprised, and say, Is this our Phillis? Y'ou cannot think how rich I will grow! Let me see! This pail cf milk will bring me in a atter of five shillings. I will lay out all my
y in eggs. At a penny a piece I shall have ty eggs. These c~gs I will hatch, and they ll bring- me so many chickens. I do not know rher Phillis had thought of how she was to hatch
It will be very hard, said she, if these sixty egs ll not produce me, at least, forty chickens. y ickes, at only a shilling a-piece, will fetch me pounds; and two pounds will buy me a sow. ib this sow I shall have a fine litter of pigs, bich I shall fat for almost nothing. The money hI shall sell my sow and pigs for, will buy me a and this cow will have a ealf. What a pretty
-lfit will be! I have no doubt it will love me very ocI, and will come jumping along the field to kiss eevery time it sees me.
Phi~wllis so pleased with the notion of the pretty alf jumping almng the meadow to meet her, and he holding up its sweet mouth for a kiss, that she ie forgot the pail of miik, and could not help pinlg hersIelf at the thou-tht. Down came the ai in a moment; the milk ran in, twenty streams SUe ground, and away swam the eggs, and the ikens, and the sow, anid the cow with her pretty a at Phillis had been thinking of with so much dlij bt.Z)
is was a lesson to poor Phillis, that she never ogt; the next time she had a pail of milk to her 8 share, she never offered to jump ; but I am not
41 FA BLES.
sure that she made quite so large a profit o
-e have seen her put together in her cast air.
TIlE POOR FARMER AND THE JUST
A. PoOR farmer once came to the house of ijustice of the peace. Having told the servant door that he had something of importance manicate fhe was led through a lane of fie fI)tmen, by several parlours, into the d room, where his worship was sitting. The who fed every day upon turbot and veni very ill ofrthe gout, reclining in his elbow and with his tbot supported upon a velvet c in great pain. The Ihrmer, who had a gre of work, and no superfluity of provisions, a pain or an ache about him. The farmer p his bat, scraped his ioot upon the floor, an very u mbly at the further end of a longtal
Well, fellow, said the justice, what dost me about ?
An please your worship, said the farmer, a sad story to tell.
Ilah! you have always sad stories to tell. little farmers are for ever falling out among selves, and then you come and plague me it quarrels.
lBut this is all between me and your worsh have an unlucky bullock that is tfor ever bi out of pasture, and now he has got into .yo, ship's best field of corn, and has spoiled a a half an acre. Now I want to know what yo. have me do in the case
Vell, said fhe justice, I cannot bat say th art an honest fellow, to come and tell me of i
I and, as that is the case, I shall merely sead y bailiff to look at the waste, and what he says it mes to, thou must pay. I shall beside expect, as ousaist that thy bullock is an unlucky one, and frever breaking out of pasture, that thou shalt kill immediately.
Bless your honour! said the firmer; what was I ying? I have only two or three harmless cows in e world : No : it is your honour's famous red bull, hat frightens all the children, anid that neither locks or bars can confine, that has broken into my corn, ad terrible work he has made of it. To be sure I ouht I was ruined. But, beinr as how your orship talks of sending your bailiffto see what the daage comes to, anA killing the bull immediately, Y,I am satisfied, and I humbly thank you. he justice was terribly ashanied of himself. If e farmer had said, at first, that it was the justice's That had done all the mischief, I am afraid lihe iould have set a very different face on it. But he thought he could not sit there as a justice, and say,
t there was one rule for a rich man, and anfor a poor one. So he s'nt his bailiff, and ai the waste, and the poor man was contented
tthis, and excused his worship from killing the
When the farmer went home, he did not half like atlhe had done. Says he to his wife, Meg, I have ai sort of a lie, and this money will never prosperwith us. I will carry it to the church-porch, have it laid out in bread for the poor in the rkouse; and another time I will rather stand by Sloss of half a field of corn, than not tell the honest
TIlE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN.
As ass is a very useful and a very patied one would have expected therefore that c would have thought of him with respect sure, he is not half so handsome as a hop coat is apt to be ragged; but, poor fellow not help that. The only noise lie is able t called braying, and you never heard a contemptible and disagreeable. But tehim is, that he is very slow and awkward i tions; whatever you do, my dear child,, not to be slow and awkward in going about
A poor ass4had long been the sport of a in a village: they shouted and hooted ;afe frightened the poor creature very much; th times beat him, and threw stones at him; and ragg boys are apt to be cruel, they ha been taught any better; then the ass ran and awvay from them as fast as he could. All t )ened in a country -here lions live: I s Africa.
One day this poor ass came to a place w saw a lion's skin lying on the ground. Il I were a lion! thought the a. 'Then, i these naughty boys frightening me, I shouk to frighten them. Sometimes they bave h unlucky stone, which has made me lame fo days; but, if I were a lion, I s would not h I would oly terrify tlmiii soundly.
'I hinkins thus, the ass turned over the lio it was a very fine one. It would make warm coat for me, thought the ass : and more ado le began to put it on. lie rolled up very snug in it, and pulled down the sk
head over his face. lie then looked at himself river. I am vastly like a lion, thought the I dare say I can make my tormentors think I one: they are only silly boys. So away he went try.
The ass,-quite proud of the new appearance he put on, trotted along toward the village. Prey he came to where some boys were playing at
les. To be sure, the trotting of an ass is not much like the port of a lion; but the boys were much frightened to observe that. They thought ilhould be eaten all up in a moment. They u ; and, in their hurry to get away, turnmlover one another. They then got up and ran; away trotted the ass after them. Stis succeeded wonderfully well the first day, i ass was delighted to terrify these naughty s, who had so richly deserved it. The next day came agai. ; but he thought the boys did not run fast as they had dohe before. Hle knew that the t alarming thing even in a lion is hisitremendous Sngs, and he determined to roar too. So he edhis mouth as fiercely as he could; but, alas!
of a ioar, there came out nothing but a bray.
3 so loud a bray that all the fields resounded h it. The boys were astonished. One or two of boldest stopped, and Ibegan to look suspiciously the pursuer. When any body pretends to be at he is not, if you stop to examine him, it is all Aha! Mr. Donkey, said they, is it you all while 2 A cheat! A cheat! Cheats are-always ad out.
The boys however somehow came to know, that the ass had happened to be a lion in reality, he determined not to hurt a bone in their skin; they resolved not to teaze him any more. They ets rode upon him, when their father wanted thing from the market-town; but they did not rb him when lie was feeding. And now, instead w g away the moment thcycame in sight, he
would trot to meet them, would rub his hPad them to tell them how much he loved tho would eat the thistles and the oats out of their was not that pretty ?
TIE DAW AND BORROWED FEATIf FR8.
A DAW is ab ird all over black, and build" principally on the tops of churches and old It can be taught to speak, to say, What's 0' and two or three silly phrases; for the sakes some naughty people, instead of letting hin his wings, and flty through the air, shut hi a cage, that he may amuse them xw ith his cl tion.
I do not, know that a daw is either hand ugly; and, indeed, we scarcely., ever call a ugly, unless hlie puts oni fantastical airs, ad to say, Bless me, how handsome I am! A c thought very good company among coblers, perhaps he would not be called so among s daw is very good company among daws, t he would not be admitted into the society cocks. There is nobody so ignorant or so but he may find a society of his own, where will be obliging and good-natured, he may happy.
The daw I am going to tell you of, was a natured, merry fellow, and the other daws him, and thought him clever. But, fooli that hlie was, hlie was not contented. In on flights, he happened to alight in the middl bninagerie of peacocks. ,V hat beautiful bi these! thought hlie. Their colours, green, am pie, and gold, seem almost to outshine tl Look at that peacock with his tail spread in
t :,0cicle! I think I never saw w)- fine a sig-ht. oI wish I were* a peacock! I can talk English, WA&o several things thiat a peacock cannot do; anf~ Ijink I should be every bit as fine a bird, if' I had bu hs feathers.
While then daw wns thus muttering to birns~if, 1W ani~lber of peacocks' feathers, scattered 'on itegod. The thought immediately came, into hi had that lie 'would try to be as fine as, a peam J iist at th is niomnn thle master of thy 1ea geiealecd his birds ioito a little inclosure, that lie 'Mgtgive Iheia their byeakf ist. Tire (law wias left Mie. looked ainat tire feathers onl thc a l~d, Ii !dcn -ly boetml to snatch them up, add rs i; hi tascf as well as l~'1w 0.Thr was, a
ithe 'miiddle of the w,1' m-vcrie, that ser ved ifor at loolkinu-(flass. By the I ii the( pe acocks ba ishedj~ their breakfastr lie thought himself as fime" thie bes.-t of theml.
1h1Y caine back, and hie began to strut ,away, slohis gold ftced coh~iles., Tlh peacocks did no t first knlow wht fo ]iake of it: they thought 'hifaaiodd sort of a l",rd. What's o'clokk? stild til "'a. hey were th~l en 'ry sUre lie was not a Apeacocli h as a graceful w-inding mu-o
l~1 i-i ne~ck, by whic h le shows oil' its eti.flColOffrs, thajt are! ev n adsorner thant. eo i. l' daw tried to do that ; you cannot
Pk 1h1;t at ha1nd he mnie of it. It would be just heare, if' a plo,-dm man dressed 11irribelfti p like a lad hIle momirent lie sa-id, WYhat's o'clock?~ every 6l11Il~ hid prceive hirt lhe -,'as not, a nobleman; %hivi lue beg,)an to riake his cofi, cs, it would
'"osible to help laughing.
P?4cocks, w hen I ey saw what was the case, to be Very ang~ry. Thiey resolved to punish *Weve-rely for'lhis impudence amid intrusion.
wriily, they riot only plucked from him, as
"VIty as they could, the borro wed feathers,
bhad nO ri ght to, but gave him a very ha rd
beating with their heaks. They then it squalled him out of their company. "The daw, heartily ashamed of his ihi back to his brother-daws, deternird not to any body what had happened. Hotu few feathers of the peacocks still stpki4 and his companions, knowing what was, soon guessed the whole. Theya ill as the peacocks had done, and medit daw, who was ashamed of what nalie} had made him, should be no conpaniii They did not forgive him, till he sho tokens of repentance, and that hewa never again to be proud of what he iff every night -when be went to bed.
Tun DOG AND THE SuADo
TIERnE was once a very sarling, i that nobody would suffer to live in When lie had a master, he ould s the children of the thmily, though'v teaze him at all, and would do ab naughty tricks. Several masters tid grew tired, and one after another tuts doors. The poor dog now had nothi was almost starved.
A gentleman -who saw him inthis lie seemed scarcely able to drag o other, took pity upon him. lie naughty dog he had been; but he did even naughty folks should be quite st Ile therefore threw him a pretty large of beef. The dog, instead of see the gentleman, looked very fiercely extremely, and then snatched up the
y other dog, that had been so hutigry, would
gun to satisfy his appetite immediately ; but car, like the dog in the manger you have read as always more eager to spoil other people's es, than to enjoy his own. He was afraid any dog should catch a bit of his prize. He aaway with it, and, though very weak, went lhnt the gentleman thought had been posEvery two or three yards he looked round to
her any dog was following him; but there hetne near.
ly he came to a river, with a little foot.
ver it. The dog got on the bridge. As he Pag 4, he happened to look into the water, W is n shadow, with the piece of meat in th. Ile had been thinking of nothing but
r of other dogs getting a bit of his beef, and hediately believed that what he saw was andog iwhh another piece of meat. His ill-ternnot give him time to consider that-what St was water, and that there could not be
at the bottom of the water, holding his face
sky. I will be hanged, said he to himself,
og s not got a larger piece of meat than I And no sooner did he persuade himself of he opened his muth to snap at the piece
is own piece sunk to the bottom of the ere was the other dog still, but with no IUent in his mouth, and lookingas surly
otltented as he did.
t"know whether this dog ever became very but I e certainly remembered a long while"
etre is not the best means of gaining even
il-natured person has in view. The next
d-hearted gentleman gave him a piece of f, he took it a little more thankfully, and
Sthe spot, without thinking it necessary
ay~ with it into a foiwest.
'TiE WOLF AND TILE MASfIFF.
A woLF is a beast of prey; and beasts iike savage mnen in the woods, must endit hry hugry and half-starved, when they not to meet with creatures fit for them to savages and beasts of prey have their pl they are stronger, and more dexterous in th tions, than the civilized and the tame.
A leain and hungry molf happened to take neara village, Mihen suddenly, on turning a of the road, he met a plump, well-fed, The two aunhials looked a little fiercely at ea at first, but the ioli' suspected that the, stronger tha he, and the dog did not perce the volf was bout any harm. So they little familiar chat.
Said the wolf to the dog, We are anila nally of the ame class, only with a little t ia our education.
So I understand, says the dog, Dr. M serves in his Natural History.
Then why, pray, answered the wolf, sh ever quarrel with each other? And so sayi jogged along the road together.
Said the wolf to the dog, How fat and s are! You really do credit to your diet.
The simple dog replied, I am sorry I turn the compliment.
HIow do you contrive it? asked the wolf.
I live, said the dog, with an honest farm takes great care of me. a
Aha! answered the wolf; do not you thi farmer would take care of me too?
~ dare say he might, said the dog, as youisay you e thde same sort of creature that I am. And what do you do for your living? Nothing but whatis very easy. I bark, to frighten y idle people and thieves,; I fawn upon my .terA and behave civilly to all the family.
I have no objection to all that, said the wolf; so, you will introduce me to the farmer, and conShim how willing a servant he shall find me, and I will be comrades for the rest of our lives.
Agred! replied the dog.
SYingthis, they trotlted along together, and were g~t more than half-way to the farmer's house,
the wolf happening to take another look at his friend, said, Cousin, what is the matter with reck? The hair seems to be worn away quite
a eicle I
The nmtilF h)naIg his head. He knew what a free
high-spirited creature a wolf is, and he wished Rage the conversation. No great matter, said
ntTff: nothing at all.
replied the wolf, we are talking now upon y terms, and I must intreat you- to conceal
7, sndi the dog, I dare say it is nothing but rk of the collar, which my master puts round
eck when he chains me up.
h generally chains me up in the day-time,may be more fierce of nights. Sometimes I folish as, to be tired of my chain; and then I
to get loose, and howl most -dismally; and S"'aster comes with a great stick, and gives
nd beating to make me quiet. But he gives
ent meat Vvery day, and as much as I can
moving, cousin! 4aid the wolf: I have no introducedd to your kind master, the farI true, Iam soinmtinmes very hungry, as I
happen tobe just now: But hunger shall me so slavish and base, as to prefer chains with a belly-full, to my liberty.
THE WOLF AND TIlE LAM. r
IN the last fable the wolf appears to a7d and I cannot sgay but that I should be di( of his mind',. A wolf however is a very tr mal, and eats lambs and sheep, and eve dren. Thank God, there are no wolves in
A creature who is very hungry, and wa you, will not stay to ask you a great M tions; and, if hedoes, I suppose will notgood-naturedly to your answers.
One of Esop's wolves, however, that going to tell you about, was of a hunor his prey, and never to play the tyrant, wV ducing an argument to prove that it was to do so. This wolf happened to be went to the stream to drink. A little the stream there was a pretty lamb, tt Red-Riding-Hood in the story-books I it was dangerous to stay and hear a wolf w'as drinking at the same time.
The wolf looked very fiercely at the
longed to eat him up. You little kak wolf, how dare you put in your no t make the water all muddy that comes tow
I cannot muddy the water for you, lamb, for, look you! I am lower dowilt and the water comes from you to me.
Now I think of it, sir, said the wolf, Iw character that was you gave of me six. 1 How dared you say, that I was a lierc
fond of mutton! Now you shall suffer for your nence.
answered the lamb, it could not be I; months ago I was not born. it was not you, it was your brother. pon my honour, I never had a brother.
4 ty fellow you are, said the wolf, to stand ting mC thus! Know, that nobody shall opposite of what I say, but he shall die for
wof ten, almost beside himself with anger, the lamb; and, if the shepherd to whom the belonged had not come up at the instant, and the wolf ~growling away, the poor little creaWould not have had another minute to live. So in this world, according to the proverb, that
soDmetimes overcomes right.
U~ R!US9E5) TiLE COCK AND THE CAT. PG mnousc, whose mother Was Vry caref'I o, ars dirous. Of going abroad, and seeing ldi. Dear mamma, said se, I do not like Irys, as they call it, tied to your apron1 have as many legs as either you or my ad can run extremely fast. I have a very <-gight, and shall know how to make a good t. Now do let me walk out quite by myself
einMtion, replied the old mouse, is very S able. You"g people should learn to take Semselves, and not always want a nurse or
their elbow. But you are so inexperio i. norant, I shall have a thousand fears '* The carts may run over you or the
horses may tramrple you to death. Mice many enemies in the world!
Oh. never be' afraid for me, nama young Onie. Yoo shall see that I, willi e~
-is a hw-,Y k to discover dangvr, and shall 11SC se11n1)(1h to distii'gnish a friend from a Notitiita'ding- ail that the young m4
his maw-ma could not htlp feeling a tho rors for her d riing. Good bye, niamma! itle one; yon nosy depend upon seeing me.: hutrs at, furleb st. Good' bye, my love! rnodir. Remeniber all I have said to y care of yoarsclf!
In kcss flhan half an hour the young 11m, running back, out of breath, andI all the b her-back standing upright with terror.
What is 10e matter, my dear ? Said her I an; so glad to see you again.
nuvcm a nu ute to taie breafth, and I You I
I am afraid you have been running hee&U sonio danger, said the old mouse, shiaking'be
Indeed b~ut I have not, mamma! When heard all I have to siy, you wvill think I hh~ like a wise young mouse as 1 am..
After h aviig gonec through two or thre1 looked at thle dlaisies and butter-cups, ai 411d the ditchecs, I turned into Johin Stulp yard hard by. There I examined the hog dogs and the logs, and the plougbIs and M that I might gain experience, and know soj the world.
'V bile I was thus en'gnged, I spied a terry. ture on adnghilt, "4orn ~j presently knw enemy. Il cannot tell the inme of this, hutl if Idescribe it to you, perhaps yokw had got a strange piece of' flesh, as reda growing on the top of' its head, and anoth~r sam~e colour, growing under its chin. ItO immensely lArge_ fing tt seemed to D C
of a wind-mill, and then it opened its mouth wide, that I thought it would eat me up in a
t. Presently came out of its mouth a scream loud and shrill, that.,it made every bone in nry tremble, and I scampered away as fast as F and here I am safe.
it was unlucky that this should have happenieds it did, for at that very moment I saw another" Pture, in a part of the farm-yard not far- fronm. that I fell in love with at first sight. This, tue was in shape not unlike a mnouse,- but. sixeven times as big. It had a coat soft like ours,, ,beautifuilly bridled, black and grey. But. SI particularly remarked was that,- whereas, the lmain with the blood-coloured crest looked so and terrible,, this gentle animal had. the.
Sand modestest way of looking I, ever beheld..
creature fixed its eyes upon me, and -Ibelieve going to speak to me. But just then Mr.-Red*et tIup his terrible squall, and I- was obliged to
to Iny heels.
fI dear child, said the old mouse, every-r word. speak alarms me more than the word before., anirnal with the blood-coloured crest' that- youa away from, is a cock, and is- one of the most'
ers and good-tempered creatures in the world.
her animal that took your fancy- so mUch, at you fii- in love with at first sight, is a-cat,placable enemy to the whole generation-of and that will sometimes murder twenty-of us Morning. If she had come one step nearer to holdnever, never have seen-my darling
From this you may see how very.necessary~Prience is, how much- young people distrust their own judgments, and how t cleature he is who yields an impliitconfiappearnuces..
Y oung mouse, after this lesson, grew much attve to nwhat her mamma said, and her
al consequence loved her more tenderly
THE FLY AND TIlE MAIL-COACII.
A MAIL-COACH One hot summer's day
ling along a very dusty road. Therewe passengers all in a great hurry to get to th ney's end, and the coach drove very fat. was a clergyman going to preach his probe mon the next day: there was a lawyer ha settle who had the best right to a great there was a young couple in a hurry I tied. Beside this, there was a bag of letter on very urgent business, and some inclos notes to a considerable amount. So that, what this coach carried was all together importance.
In the coach among the passengers 44 Nobody observed this fly: he sometimes at gentleman's hat, and sometimes uponW Iaudkerchief, and sometimes in the shade lining of the coach. But the fly wasIn judgment of more importance than all the deed he had so high a conceit of himself absolutely forgot there was any body el coach. lie thought it a very nice thing t& fast without feeling fatigued, and he was i a hurry to get to London, which he had as any of the human passengers.
It happened as they drove along at a g that a large school of little gentlemen an& was walking along the causeway. It wave they had all been very good; they wereA their best clothes; and their school-mis taking them to a nice dairy-house, to tr with syllabub and cheese-cakes. As the coa by, the wind set full in their faces, andI children were almost blinded with the d
looked on very attentively at all that was pass- n my word said the fly Iam very sorry for children. I iani quite grieved that I should mmode them thus. If I had not been so exly in'a hurry, I would really have desired the an to stop, till they were past. But a per0f my consequence cannot pass through the
however excellent his intentions may be, frequently occasioning inconvenience to his
ty butterfly, who heard this self-conceited, 9eould not help rebuking this coxcomb fly.
wshenificant little insect, do you think -any here knkws any thing about you ? I dared not tinWthe coach, till I saw that there were no
n it, because nature has thought proper adorn me with brilliant colours, which often
on my ruin from naughty boys and girls who 4trecollect that a butterfly can feel. But you through the work, unnoticed by any body, it be by a spider. Do you think the coach goes p the faster or slower, because we are in it? my word for it, my friend, that the most ridiacreature in the universe, is he who entertains imagination of his own importance, that no 9er dre Amed of but himself. h-y was so ashamed at this just rebuke from brother-insect, that he crept into a crevice made c Corner of the worsted-binding of the coach, vr showed himself any more, till he smelled
Me'S shambles in Whitechapel, as he eni Ondon from the east.' He then roused himu his hidinuplace, and flew away to his
I'llE BELLY AND THE XEMItcaS.
THE fable of the belly and the memry N-ented by aix old Roman, who lived twNo three hundred years ago. Lat, um, of'mh
-wsthe capital,, was then a country ofb mhlo had no better wvay of marking the begi a new year than 'by driving a. great nal[. church-door, whiclir he chief mnagistrate di ceremony, atten 'ded by all his ohiicers.,of this grey~hearrded savage, -%,,bo olrednor write, is very unl1~r inust oth~1 it is very cutcrt-aining, archs rat a sense in It; and therefore I will tell it you.
Oncce upon a tie the members of the hum fell Cut vN ith ie belly, anid declared thieyW igcr have atiy correspondence -% ith her Complained that she set thew~ ;III to wodid a thn emf:teI x ould, :
waik to fetch licr nicat, the cycs ref used to it, tile hiallds to lift it 't 40 te inouth, theta taste, and the teceth to ch ew- it. By ti conspiracy, slid they, We Shall speedily b to reason, andl teachi her of how much 5m %ve are, and hiow useless slie. refelo l wa iii a pitiful, taking: allhe refse todoany thing for her; and she unable to, help herself. She became lan Veiled, and her ribs ~almost forced their mdy tile skin. Now you will. thiikote. nic uniphed.
Thle belly is niot so unimportant a part o. mian fi-ture as the members supposed. She very mell. how this corispirecy Would ci Ni atelied hier time; she sat still, and saidno
The members WCrC surpried, when they
rl suffered in thie inisfortario of 'the belly..
g,,rew lean and feeble,. as she grew 'so. Amh '.t irst refusedI to walk;: they were now, unable to A i they tottered, and, couii not keep themselves a* fium and steady position.', The fiiigexs- had, u~ cold and stiff; the eyes weregiazed ,alid could disinguish objects; the tongue could not speak,the jawls were almost locked. -ARl was- now anid they were wi iWing. to-hear-- reason even from kily that they had'despised--' Viat fools- you ,Wcre,~ said she, to think -you. Idgon oi without my aid! Learn liciieforth that Ways tirat which m44, &Ih gtetest ,show ,of thle most real pi'e etyt~s and. shoe- their valiue In a gri *f" cit3, and ought
-t b, evle. Iy Aofite is i~oland I do, PTA ovie withi the inore glorious members of
by3 yet without my -serves th& tongue canLf r thatt cloqun wih, I has conv-erted senates,
Ws cannot. rescue the nise~rpble ffom degtruc, '.", lte liead invent those sciences, -and arts 12ie the hunian, so fir above the, brute ceaYoQu thtoughlt 1 did nothing, but you were
-Within my quiet house, .w*here every;
AMS so still, goes on the great operation of ,11 by means of -Whuich lhe food that is put.
C uouth, is turniel to animal. substance,, and, c'Iveyed to the different. members to m11ain.AW1 l in health and activity. Come, my
uis return to lte agreement and kindness
we have Ibeen accustomed to .li ve. It is
V~4Aat Fet, you can yet cep ai little
i.reough -to find sonie food : hands, you arer
.Wa. btyou can grasp it, and carry it to tetih, you must resume your oflice) to
5 ot herise it will stick fast in the throat,
(he Power of swallowing now is,, and death
iners lisened to the prudent .advice -of
'TL'ey took a slender and -V .1ai~ ~n~
and Were,* refresbeil the next: titnj-- ;6 1' neCossarv. In fIL 1"( w !;Tvs 1110 hCJIh!'AO6 il Ci --nwmhvrs were,
as ev('r a I"d t ficv N fter fl2n yt. tht,
gon rkus eatipht
FA B T, "N X TX.
TFIV, St'N AND THE WIND."
TItF son and Iho -vinfi wice hnif a di of t'he ti o was flw woA Po*ert",Il.
T!!o Nviritl s-)i(f. Do voti pretend to com, me? Il'o flof I tcal 11! the talt st I ref's by I Do tiol I y dac-- and tovors in (he ( ''
hot I lilt occarl into OknU '1 i'( fj"Svvd
to dw SE'V Of TPOL"ntairs, and s(-P(l of Alf i 1 ,. i6lit all their crevvsl to a at ry I
replied the S 11, these ire, f* powers : Alwy d not equat mine. I
buds a114 the; flowers, to ma'_e gI-0 tbe Man. I (-a i Lse I lie grass to grow. Every t 3 4)o sc4 the whole, world, 11"I av.
('11 her V(Iuefahf" or a-Iiinal lik, oil CS
they iYould all pcridi.
As t fit, disputants were in the hei 'Itt of t ftwnt v traveller happened to pass alb larDt cloak wtappea about his shouldf-rs." lay acrop 'a vAst p1min,,uliere there 414" bouse nor tree that could shelter h i rn frorri" raencieslof the Y; -athey. The-suit and 'f: both agreed to settle their dispute by a tri, traveller, which of them could first fnake v ith is- cA oo k.
The wind began with a terrible Tllrff' t away lbijraveller's cloak from oth of his was, near caiTyinsit a mile- from hiuL upon
weer recovered his hold, and drew it closely him The~ heavens Nvere now1x entirely darkwihclouds. The d&y ivas tauaed into night. vid raved so, that, if The I rtiveller had had a nn, instead of being alone, they could not had on~e another speak h. fle (Quid scarcely
-hsfeet, or get forward one step; and hie almost lie must, lie down upon flio gruund, -to pre. tmef from thevioleuicc of tiie storai. Theftides called to hiis a txe the rain, the ladthe Iliurder: 1do oot~kow 'nthe*w ifat, Tue iii. The travolf er had a terrible t-inte Wt f'or nil that the 4i1M -could- (to, lie only
his cloak the closer about him..
*k.now t he sun's t urn to t ry. H le -birrst out
hs-Rulnt Tays,. ndl tile clouds were scat-fa nmient., Thiry thiing ~wsrefreshed., 134f eiwiI to nkik,; this, betsts returned to
*ahr; andl The soft droppings from at few buidhes M-ere inexpresibly agreeabk.. Th o litlere(I inl thle sunshine. ,As: -the sun howa%,dterm-ined to do his utmost, he rnade his -hter and hotter; till the traveller, who was txhilarated with its brightness; began to pant Wtwith the s~iltriuess of tile season. ]ffe
n;he sat down upon- it, to try. toa' cool f; aud the sun was decisively the victor in the
An fom this,) said the sun to his blustering itthat soft and gentle means -will oftenPlish what force and fury may in vain try Ito
th~is time the sun we s always admitted -to' 1"over, the wind, and Apollo, the cha,of this great luminary, ranked among the
Gods fr before Eous, the ruler ofthe
THE FROG AND THE OX,
A CONCEITED young frog gave a gr trouble to his mamma, by pretending on, sions that he could do any thing hlie hadw do. I do not much dislike your notion mother, if you would put more consider sobriety into your way of thinking about bition and industry,. when directed to a are excellent qualities, and will effect Yet all power has its limits. Man is perh more extraordinary creature than a froo;h what he can do. With ambition and ind haps almost every man may make himse farmer, a good sailor, a good soldier, a geon, and excel in almost any employment" suit; but I question whether e can cli moon, or carry away the north-star in his W pocket. And in the foolish way in which about itr my child, without persevering iridustry, and only saying off-hand, I will d can achieve nothing. The foolish young not heed what his mother said, but went empty bragging manner. I question wbeth had heard Viotti playing on the fiddle,- le not have said, giy me hold of it, and I w out of the strings ina minute as miraculn as you do. What I am going to tell you was quite as silly as this.
The young frog and his mamma were on ing in the shade on a beautiful-summer's-dky. them in the same field a remarkably fine feeding upon the grass. What an admirable creature that is!. s mother.
athiak he is as handsome as I ani anthe yoig frog.'
Almoiner, said, thc mother. Not to mention '-utiful dcrpiled marks Of reddish brown arid 7 hlite, arid the sleckness, of his skini, so exive of health arid vigour, there is something itself, %iien-unitcd with exquisite colours arid which affords great delight to the beholder. ~exprmsive of power: this ox looks' like the of' time plains;, yet there, is something so
siveet in, his temr, that one reverence&
~for that, said'the.young frog,, I will show
11 b as big as ai ox in a minute.
"emy dear child,,said time mother, what'
$te~oig~ IkUlcot whabt I have so Pfeu said
Sremembecr at -this- moment wba i you mean],
.8a U19, he began to hold his breath, aild pulF
up as much as he ol. The skin of the
vit ri n kled pand hi raiyearge4 himymio L t ic e' his natural size.
gTutspeak.-withort. letting out his bre~th,
1. .19to is natural iggre4 ,
as riot I thfen as big "as the ox? ~said be. tAhe hunidedIth part'of'his,-size,, ausw ered the'
etired again, atud held is breath so long that
btiv, wAa a, 9aur 'of an inch bigger
tdoPoII tfhnk of th it, mamma?~ said he. ,!be fif. ieth p~arf,'npLiied tlie uoth Ier.
tr Y again. Y ou accused me just now of:
1cmidst of hi, thiidc trial, tdie ox, was 1ookin-' tfresh grass, and(] not ~observing so diiiuaIl afliumal, hadl liiC to hi 'v trod hinTI to death.
Or of is, hoofs.- i ''bung' fro'-, thoroughly
fri-litene-d h go his breathi,,and scan) in 'a trice: and I Lelieve he never aft" making himself as big as an ox.
TUE M1ORSE AND THE UAG.
THE horse was once a free and a nob& and galloped about the foreSts-just~ 1,19 prompted him, without carrying anitht upon. hi, back. In days' of yore, whe-n upon acorns and roots, and had neither nor stable belonging to him, theliorse unacquainted Nvith thie saddle, the. bridle, and the spur.
Tn U,~ happ times (happy for the w!,' iiey had'had nothing, to do ii
i! W~ins, and neigh at theirgalns a). on,- got iwto, a quarrel with :'ii a as 1he quarrels uf chI&A
~difl- r hor,-z tossed his hw'ic .W4,ant
;m- Ole siag did h sir in rttuA; stag had 1,orns- and the horsv had kt stag, i1thoig thiuldrqi-any harn air( in his beaw ifutd nck, anid'the blood~ (out in a stream-. The horse did miot i blo od trickle upon the groupdl and .
s -rtd a good ca.The goojflat very sorry;-bit th ehonse did not care ? that one way or otlu-r hie watild be eveal v
Trie Ihorse i, a lkng uhild consid
not, i'9 I have ;cad in sornevbook,' MatIl overtake tie slag; farl1doubt61whether Iman upoa his ha)'ck, Axhich was tile thought of;, would at all have incease doingthat. But lie was no way supetti,
'Vridlled with in weapons of offence, andq his of horns made hial sure that, he shaui be the rin a battle.'
4tlast, as 1 was saying, h os applied to n kis assistance. 1,kuow,- iWerNve4dthe borse. that is no food that pleases the human pitla te so muckh W 6on;- but you can, but, Pldom, &:A it. Your feed
run so fast as the (leer; mine Can ;but, that can do. Whow I have oveftakenis l he I turns about and'tosses his head at we.'I know
that 1 am i sure would .be the finest eating ins
-World, and lie has given me Pn a'ront- PerScould find a plan, by Joining my swiftness Our skill together, of humbling this proud. Win tlie dust.
SIm easily tell how that can be,;done, said: thea SProvided you will listen to We, and do0 as I have you. The horse 'consented ; and the
Jaaving put a bridle upon him, within a bit irt:
oileaped upon his back, and rode away
Ch of the stag. 'They p resentlCy _;o4 1im.
was now quite a cdififerent aif'air ir kthe poor, Sfroin what it had 1-:1ea when t6e Lor~~e and be together in t1he forest. Several of the stag's Is had been gored by the sear of man already, the hunters' lay in wait for them, concealed
a tree- or a liedge;'their dependence then, if wer not takenhby surprise, was upon the pupefior "s of their fcet; but now that the 'pooi stag hu11nter ruounted upon dhe back of the harke, 4h0 terrible spesx ready grasped in his; habid1 I Sunk within him. WVhat'he could howdd*he ran for h is li ft. lie ran for 1! oor.
Pal~izg, uspintr, LiS legi 'no longer 10b10
him, lie 1i~l sit his legfhrn the ground.CAme lip, afld the splear pieced. tile stag
Wkdcruel hnyrse, whien he, saw his e4nemI y
)hsfeeCt, uigticd fbr joy. Was 110t, this aL
I~evuge beaus tle sag ad Morelly,
razed the skin of the horse's neck? I won happened to the horse afterwards. Some rible, you may be sure.
The horse thanked the man for having assisted his desires. Now, thought he, I sh unrivalled lord of the forest t no creature im forth dare to insult me. I shall remem kindness, said he to the man, when I shall n have the pleasure of seeing you.
Fair and softly, replied the hunter; you r not part so. Having been once upon your find that you will be a very useful beast to have a pretty hovel, and you shall live in P of it. I shall be able every holiday, to tre with a pleasant ride; and every workingshall plough my field or draw my cart. T had no remedy; the man, having once master wts always his master; and a hand a hundred times, when the horse c me in wa a sharp day's work, he had, occadfon to ref vengeance, too eagerly pursued, alxvways bri vengeful party to misery.
THE GOOD-NATURE 1AN AND THE ADD
IN England and the neighbouring cont snake is one of the most harmless creatures world; but in. the hot climates, aqd partial Africa, there is great plenty of venomous and serpents, whose bite is death. There asp,. the rattle-snake, the cerastes, and many beside the basilisk, which is regarded by the bitants with so much terror, that they have i it could kill by the mere stroke of its cy Many of these serpents are very large, and colours so beautiful, that they look in the s
they were studded with diamonds and carbuncles; they have a tongue, which is forked like a dart; and, whenever they are angry, they utter a strong issing sound, at the hearing of which the people of those-countries are trightened nearly out of their its. They are shaped like a worm, without legs; but, by drawing themselves up, and then tossing out their folds, they get forward with great rapidity, id some of*them could overtake me, though I shold run away from them ever so fast. There is Amfaous story in Virgil, the Latin poet, of Laocoon, j priest, with his two sons, who were all three killed by two terrible serpents; and there is a fine statue presenting this, which, some day when you are od, I will take you to see at Somerset House. he commonest name for these venomous serpents is viper, or adder: and therefore, when any man is iously angry with another, we often read that he
s him a viper, and reproaches him that he has tongue of an adder.
There was once a poor man, but he was very od-natured, and would never pass by any creaae in distress, without trying to assist it. This ade him many friends; even the dogs and the ', and the cows and the sheep, knew the goodatured man, and gave him marks of their attach't; and the robin-redbreasts (for the country ere he lived, though hotter th n England, was times covered with snow; I believe it was Italy)
come to his window, and eat up the crumbs lie scattered for them. It is seldom that you be wrong in doing an act of kindness. 0nce, however, this poor man went too far, and
like to have repented of his-kindness. I would ie a naughty boy, who was a notorious liar or Sif 1 saw him starving; but 1 would not take to live in my house, or make him my bosomhappene#to be a very snowy day, and the wind ed to cut sharp like a knife, when this poor man
,came hcome "to his dinner. lit onre co)rl" us lit hastened akug-, hie spied anl adder, t almost frozen to death. 'I lion~ htle vas. :to get to the shelter of his own bo-el a~
-side, and his fitirers were all jntrmbed w'th 1W co0ul d not bear to think of leavin -, this li 1wbhitad him iii so mnierable a eond Iiiwnedt it over it was quite stiff, and is shift: liebga to be-lieve that it was-de JIowever that he, tollched it, lie perceive moved. 'lie- unuttoued his coat, anll
sboothat it 11mighlt get warn" il aRfrhid, itf tile adder 114d uixly recoveiX place, it wouldd perhaps have stung- its to th i eawrt.
Vihlen the, poor man got Lomie, he t ,adder, and saw that it uas a little bte oupenedl its sparkling eyes. lie laid it on
-fid fold his children w hat hie had doite thertd ruund, and ndinired tile beauntiful hle, cfeature. As tOe fire sparkled and bl
*nil'ler g ot stronger and stroger &oa
-'Ible tieehowxr it lay perti-cdly sillit
audeit started Up inll tet
beauiul head flew about the k,1itcnfr the dwther, and hissed most terrible. The
scemdand shri eked; the bi ,gcvr onlesle the table and( Chairs ; and at last the yeuo seemedI to dart at onec of theml Zand in long-er would have stunig it to deiath.
7jhe poor mail was stn terrified tha t !ho did NN hat to do; but a nuighbour, -% lit 0as 'tile tiise, and, knowiitg that this iwas tli the good-niatured man, opened the door
~udwith a bill-hook that hie had in is. ha the addtier onl the head, and laid it dead A, a fit retun for the creature N ho behaved s poor man that had saved his life. The did not care for the danger to himtself,w
inuoh mischief bank over the family of tl ,'ped-iiatured man.
y .,Ttwtpod-iiatured m an learned a, wise ] ,-;,on froin 'ftwifenture: lie saw how much Awly brought upon himself by a Ll-i tliai j :tRl
%e attention to the Aifferent quali6 s of (-O ,
totes; but tile lie Saw t1kat the life ()i his "Ildd 11!ad #Mm saved by a person') to whon) lie 1-1 ", mict, ""Otud.
- *Wrausly, Vvilhout actingimprutlellily.
qr.- oil IV t I] i li, tljat, Uzzles lille in tili lorv isAbc Sehavionr ofthe'- adder. ItiscontrarvioldlellAturb 'Of all animals; for I have found it almoA t it' U11i verI i fule, that no creature will harm you, Iyoa hilve 4"fitst dOUC that creature harm..
TUP BEAR AND TAL,11695TAltz bear,, as he was once.walkiki- in Ili
r's farill-yard, I'appened to be stung bN it b,,o
ate, si'V 'tile bear 1.,i donf some hurt 'to Cie bee t111DU(rjj'f,0 was ilot v ZtVC "fit but the bt-e flion-lit ,tw
a8 oil 1,-irpose, and treated the offender accord'file Stinir Or a bee is extremely painful foran hour or
t" o ; it Wflaales the flesh very llluC4;_ but the ae"t 'llY yotiare as well as if noibing had bappe;wo. 'The,I bear felt tile sinart, and was v 7 ajigryfh .It ;f)
Ae a croat tire as a bee, ery
had dared to treat all zukiOrl'isililportance so tnwkremortioubly. He re"Ye(I revell"e, mid determined to punish ihe
CoMyntmity of beqs, for the injury which hall
11 done 11,111 by one of their spt!cics, He w ent ac'191Y to the hive the bee had flown olit froln"
'114 his snout pushed it from the slit'll' i1pork
it Aood, and overturRed it upori the trutomid.
There, said hlie, take that! and beware aud how you behave impertinently to a bear 4
The bees were exceedingly enraged. T are formed in the nicest order, of wax; the cells has exactly six sides; and the wh ther is like a great city. l1ere was the w of these poor bees overturned in a mome unreasonable vengeance of this stupid bea than a hundred bees flew out at once; they upon the bear, and stung him in every body and head. If you had been served se the sting of one bee does 3o lasting harin alt together it would have killed you. was several days in exquisite pain, aind fire; and had time enough to reflect how f well as wicked, it is2 in return for one tri4 jury, to put ourselvesin a great passion, a the harm we can.
The tarmer's son came, and put the hive shelf again, which the bees could never themselves. They were however a long thre they had repaired all the disorder t(e committed, and some of their young crushed to death.
TIHE 11ORSE-DUNG AND TI ,'A PIL
a The during of a horse is of a round foln and in size resembling -ai apple. I hardly you that in all other respects it is different. I suppose, in a straw-yard, where horses a be kept, thata great deal of rain having of these balls was set a swimming along and at length arrived at the pond which made in a corner of the orchard for the c = at. Over this pond certain apple-trees,
pins and others, of a smooth and glossy rind, a beautiful blush, extended their wel-stoe 'bes. Several a le, either from their riper being shaken down by the wind, had fhalen the water, and were floating on the top, of the
*I once had a little brother, two years old, having wandered by himself to the edge of a pond, and not knowing that water would n him, was so attracted by -the beautiful aFlce of the floating apples that he went forto take them, fell into the water, -and was
e horse-dung I was mentioning, was quite inled with his situation, as he swam this way that upon the surface of the pond. He had been in such good company in his life, There not thing of any sort floating within the whole ference of the pond, that was not an apple, himself* He quite forgot his origin and nature. pride of his heart he could not help crying 'sfie guided along, See how we apples swimh is is but a short-fable; but it is inttended to that, if any one, favoured by fortune, or adinto the society of those who are wiser or than himself forgets what he really is, and 8 value that does not belong to him, he makes if completely ridiculous, and provokes the
Pt of every one who knows him.
TIlE LION AND OTHER BEASTS -IIUNTI
TIE Voltf, the bull-dog, and the moll'
-once agreed to go a hunting itiI the lion. told you before what a terrible creature a li wolf is but a shrimp to him; and ten bull gether would scarcely venture to set upo though he should be tied to a stake, and so from following them w whenever they choso away. These creaturs therefore were g!a a lion for their part nr, who they knew was stronger than they; nd the lion was con join them, because various animals haveva complishments, and at worst they could different openings of the forest to drive the his mouth. You have not forgotten that prey are obliged to go a hunting, as other would starve. They cannot eat grass. T meant of these partners was, that whatever g, one of them should take, he was not to toulic sel of it till he had called together his as be present at the division.
Of the whole set the mountain-cat was cunning in her tricks, and she somehow happened to catch a deer in her nets. N nets were made of I cannot tell: but it is fable, sowe will not mind that. As soon as ceived her success, she very honourably so one of her kittens, to give notice to her n friends. They hastened to the banquet; them brought along with him the best sauce is hunger. As soon as they were awsse lion said, Now, madam, and you two g I dare say you have no objection to my
r; I will: divide the deer into quarters in a
ying this, with one pat of his terrible paw he deprived the animal of life, and then set himself seously to work. 11ie divided the carcase with great expedition, and the portions were so equal, that it waS not possible for him who had any one of the bares, to murmur because he had not one of the others. The partners looked on with great earstness and curiosity; their mouths watered;
y lickpd their. lips, and were impatient to be
Well, my friends, have I divided our feastfaily? i the lon,-Evcry one praised the magnanimity
a2m glad, said he, you are so well satisfied wil proceedings. Now for the distribution! This re, laying his paw upon one, I claim, because I Sthe king of beasts; nobody will dispute that.
is second share, touching another, I will have, in Own right as the strongest and boldest of all the oUbers of our association: the third, do me the fa3r to observe, I will take in spite of your teeth;
Aas to the fourth, I have only this to say, Let
iouch it that dares!
The pooranimals were terribly mortified. They
onld have complained, and expAstulated with the
upon his injustice. But he put himself into a
reteniug posture; and they slunk' away with their is between their .lgs. He thought they did not ish quick enough, and set up one of his loudest
s; they then rain as fst as they could, and
ht ia the remotest parts of the forest for any little cl to appease the cravings of hunger.., It is too
thus, when one human creature has a great I9re power, than his neighbours; and therefore,
sh on should happen to be richer or stronger' than brothers, or sisters, or play-mates, I hope yaou be Just enough not to takd the ion's share; and
remember that it is not every one who has courage to complain, that has not the right t if he dared.
THE LION AND THE MAN.
Yo u have been told before that a lion is & creature. He is a fierce fellow; but, as he i so I have heard he is kind and mereifu l. A lion and a gentleman happened to fall i pany with each other, and, as they were same. way, they agreed to travel together. other conversation to make them forget th@ hess of the road, they began to dispute whi two was the nobler animal. Said the lion, Of all four-footed beasts I'P inowledged the king. See what a beautiful .have; observe the length and majestical ap of my mane; as to my claws, I dare say acknowledge their terrors without its bein sary that I should make yon feel them.
-coSt me nothing; I am not obliged to take t of thesheep, or the skin of the calf, to makd covering. Observe, on the other hand, ho and tweo-legged a creature you would be these artificial coverings. You pretend so to voewith the lion; bat then you do not upon yoer own strength or swiftness; you g the back of a horse, and arm yourself with and a shield. The consequence of all this a free creature, and you a stlave. I go v plmase, and give an account to nobody ; work hard for your living, and, if at anyli have no money in your pocket, you are t being starved with hunger and cold.
Said the man to the lion, You must, not pretend to compr with mne. You are a poor ignorant crea!MItatecant neither read nor write. Remember vha fine books men have composed we can sings and dance, and paint, and act. Pantomimes: we can make all sorts of machines and instruments it was a man that made the speeches of, )esnostbenes, and the plays of 'Shakespear. The works of human ipp-nity cover the-earth. Look at, o* palVF, and Places, and castles, and bridges, and cities. When a fon is lead he~ is remembered nomnorA,, blut Homer OvIAleander and Ciceo kaejmrtaliethn. Wve by what thoy performed, or wiafthey wrote.
~iighthey ave bweu dead twq ~ov three thousandI PIWSw they are still ftesh ill every ofe'sthougts :,Asto travellers went on, each agod dal war ~* the debate, they htappened to ca'ue to a puhli4 $lac in the- road, where -was erectod a very fine
da oetf Hjerctules, hugging dwx Nernealn lion to 40th: the tmriblI. creature 'Wat jII,& failing lifeless' 0 his arms. :There, there! '~ si thie mn,; exulito inurismph, yho pretended, *4a a mant could not ;tW~er a liort without *qL speat arid a shield ; see
"one of my speois: with naked strength subdrtt..
onqjie of your's.
"Ptnienber, said the lion,- that story belongs to the' 'IW)OUS age, where every, pag is illed with impos..r Flilities. The victory upon whinh* you are thoua-ht..
enough to pride yourself, bel6ngs, not to ierCues but to the statuary. If we lions were the ftlptrs we should represent, with more tru th, not
Ole an. subduing the lion, but the lion 'Subduing
Thran swthat lie was wrong in this instance.
&,Il oweerheadhered to his opinion; and the
Cfy ircurnstance that all the sculptors were men,
',one of them lions,, confirmed him in his sen-
THE FOX AND THE MASK. A
I WILL tell youi now a very short fable ie clever one. '
A fox on ce, went, into a haberdaSIher's As&ty the ground utas lying a, very hatidsoine mk, to be -worn by some actor *hen hec plaed The masks of the, ancients, to whose ti ini il belongs, covered the whole tead, ike a IM'1 no actor ever played-w~iltout e., It lylas; cuistomn, as by this means w6'coul~d not smetI. of the player; 'and whether it wais his uq fauOh or cry, the rnask lookedi al,'va ys the
The fox-is a sagacious prying fellow. fIC the miask over And over, lHe looked at te And loked at the In.' ,The outside NI'V.0 alld Cotm pl ete; -the inside wam 10116wv' N~A head is here!I said 'the fox:- what a pity lf are no brains!
There are some pretty boys and girhs
perly brbuight up, that they think of nothf their beauty, reffnse to. learn every thing, ; out co'xcorubs and flirts. A man might taIla iipon the hNad of' one of- these, and say, n~ dlid, What a fine head is here!I what api thee are no brains!
THE LEAP IN RHODES.
'A TtAVELLEu, who had been absent from home eral years, and had seen a great many countries, amud his old friends when he returned, with aitude of stories of the wonderful things he had Theywere at first exceedingly pleasedwith '116 e were p e se w t
conversation. Whenever he told any- thing hut himself, it happened somehow or other, that had done the most extraordinary things of any 6y he had occasion to speak of. They began to ink that he was a wonderful fellow. But this despicable traveller betrayed himself. allowed himself to shoot with the long bow. I Ssay, by the way, that that proverb arose from tre traveller, as naughty as the man I am talking who pretended that he had shot with the long Further than all the world beside. Well ; this travelled gentleman thought in his
mind, My friends here are mere cocknies; they Ver saw any thing that I describe; and, if I repretthings as more extraordinary than they are; will not find me out. So hlie began to tejl fibs; when he once did that, he set less and less guard 5 himself, till every body was ready to stare.
Thought with tliemiselves, allow cones it that
Sman, who never did any thing wonderful at
Should have been the completest and cleverest
in all the countries that he visited?
Oe day he said hlie would treat his friends with account of his adventures in the island of Rhodes.
described to them the Colossus of Rhodes, one of seven w nders of the world, that had its two feet th two moles of the harbour, so that ships in full could pass between its legs; it had a winding
stair-case within, by which you could climb the chamber of the head, and look out at tl dows of the eyes; and few men were so they could make their two arms meet round the ness of its thumb. I do not know that the t toli any fibs about the Colossus; it was not make it in description more extraordinary was in reality.
Thetraveller observed that the Rhodians parti excelled in leaping: no nation in the word leap like them. There were two persons prm in 1thodes when he came, that could beat th but he determined to try; and in his first at fotbund he could outleap them both. I believe that he had leaped forty yards on level ground
A grave old gentleman who was sitting by, up his nose with a sneer, and said, Now I li story better than any that you have told us You must know that there are some young fel our town, who are impertinent enough to i the truth of your stories. But you shall them in this instance, and 1 will insist uu believing all the rest. There are no sprinple I suppose, in Rhodes; indeed you told us yo was performed on common ground. I will th measure out the length for you, and you shall the same leap here that you did in Rhodes.
The traveller was confounded at this and before the words were well uttered, slunk the company. I suppose hlie set out again u travels; till hlie did so, he was pointed at b town's people whenever hlie appeared in the and he could hear them say, There goes the performed the wonderful leap in Rhodes!
IlE' COCK AND THE PRECIOUS STONI!.
A COCK in a farm-yard has a particular pleasure pfching himself upon the dunghill. From this W gmtance one sort of cock is called a dunghill,to distinguish him fk6m another sort, of a
and more courageous temper, which is called ge-cock. The dunghill-cock however is not, itute of pride; and, though hlie would run away tacked by a game-cock, he thinks himself of no importance when he is surrounded only by hens Thickens. Thus I have seen an ill-tempered, own school-boy crow over the little ones, give l a cuff, and another a box, and keep them all in
who, if he met with his match, would have own what a dastard he was, and that the where he was most properly at home, would'
ought not however to compare the cock of the yard to such a boy; for though he has not
enough to face all sort of dangers, I believe
eldon known to be ill-natured and tyrannical.
ks however are fond of chuckling and crowand making a great splutter, as if they were the
fellows in the world.
cock I amn speaking of was just come away b roost as soon as the morning broke, and hunted upon his favourite dunghill. The first he did was to clear his pipes, and set up a shrill, vigorous crow, to bid welcome to the It was a bright, lively morning, a little into frost, which sharpened the poor gentleman's it' and male him recollect that he wanted hing for hi; breakfast. Hie next therefoie beatthing whkh hii claw upon the top of the E5
dunghill. Among the bits of straw, and fuse of the barni and the stable, which I thrown upon thie dunghill, it was often li to find it few scattered grains of corn, an the proper, favourite food of a barn-door
He scratched and scratched again. He find a single corn, but, as he scratched and main, by and by he turned up a rei It sparkled and was a very pretty one; b looked at it with dissatisfactioi and disa If a jeweller had fouad you, said he, hew been in ecstacy with his prize: for my pa prefer one grain of barley to all the preci in -the world.
Now, thinking of this fable, I must,
-when I have looked at a diamond, a to onyx, and have been told that. it was No dred, or a thousand, pounds, I could not sidering what a whimsical sort of a create A bit of Derbyshire spar is quite as rose is a thousand times more so; and I artificial flowers, that would form an infi agreeable ornament for a lady's bead, V stones that was valued at a mint of mo when men have taken it into their heads to things, then the price must be settled by it takes to dig them out of the earth, to from the other side of the world, to cut a them, and to chase them in gold or silver.. pie vho do these things must be paid for t and for their skill in those parts of the pr require a nicety that few can arrive at. I that the high price of a diamond is owing.
How happy are children, and the inh certain nations where no people are rich, can live without a continual anxiety abo ut wealth! -What ease and lightness of M cojoyp who is as ignorant about these a
as this cock, and can say, I had rather have a of barley, or a morsel of wholesome bread, all the precious stones in the world! he cock of my fable had scarcely finished "1 his nations upon a precious stone,' when tie fars wife came out with a handful of barley, and the poor fellow the very breakfast he wanted, ch as he could eat.
THE MOUNTAIN IN LABOUR.
I you ever see a mountain ? It is a grand and
-ight. Some mountains are three miles in per-iular height, and the path is nine miles long bich you climb up the side of them. The sky to rest itself and to be supported upon the top. Sides are irrerniar in some places perpendir for a considerable way, so that you must make at circuit bef re you can get any higher: in plhces there are wide, black-looking chasms, de6 that nobody knows the bottom of them. ne places again, you can only climb upon your dand knees, catching hold of the shrubs and of grass you find in your way. In ascending Mountains you pass through the clouds, which domun so much as a mile above the plains: and You .may sometimes stand in a clear sunshine, se the rain pouring down in torrents upon the ws beneath. On the tops of mountains the air ays very cold. High mountains are capped 8iow all the year; and, in crossing the Alps, shoutaius which divide France from Italy, you et astride upon a 'mule, a species of animal
Sure-footed thitan a horse; and in descending Sheets of snow, you place yourself in a sledge, ot times slide down almost a mile in a minute.
There are some mountains which are called v particularly mount Etna, and mount V which have fire for ever burning within the sometimes blazes out at the top, and thro& red-hot substance, almost like a metal) which* ever it falls, destroys every thing it finds in i sage. Previously to the eruptions of ihis 4 you may hear a terrible noise in the inside mountain; it tumbles and roars, with a noi,,se and more deafening than thunder.
I suppose it was either at mount Etna ori Vesuvius that the thing happen ed I am going you of. A loud and long noise was heard in side of the mountain, and the neighbours,g alarmed, were all assembled at the foot of watch what would happen. They said one other, What a ruinous eruption took placA years ago The noise is now more fearful than then ; we shall have our corn and our ca stroyed and all our houses laid in ashes!
The groans of the mountain were very dist it seemed to bellow (if I may compare a great with a little one) like a mad bull. Then ever. was silent for a few minutes; and then it again. While all the people were looking painful expectation, presently out crept a from his hole in the mountain, just tWlo Look, said one, our ladyv-mountain has been ill; and see, if she is not brought to mouse!
This is a comical fable; but the meaning to ridicule large promises and small perf and to say that, if any one boasts and brags he is going to do, and then does something D equall to what he had made you expect, he W silly a figure, as the mountain in labour, brought to bed of a mouse.
As to the people who lived at the foot of Etia, finding that the mountain now beca quiet, they excused their disappointment,
aceingly glad, after all the fright they had sufod, to see no enemy march out against them but a
THE OAK AND THE REED.
AN oak is the king of trees, as a lion is the king of beasts. It is said to be a hundred years before it ws to its full size, and the life of an oak endures
centuries. It is a vast and a noble creature I one cannot look on the solidity of its trunk, and free lines in which it flings out its gigantic bcles, without admiration. Ptrolg and noble creatures are too apt to be proud 4d in their pride, they forget that they are subject 4ote accidents which beset all earthly things. The I am going to tell you of, was full of this foolish Pide He thought of his own strength, and looked
disdain upon every thing round him; he calte that his roots struck as deep into the earth t, as his branches stretched into the air above
tong the other neighbours that were accustomed sneers, grew a humble reed that he laughed at than all the rest. You poor creature, said he, do you grow so near my majestic presence? I
pity you from my heart. I know you must bly out of countenance, whenever you think -Every ass that comes by is in danger of
plg you to pieces. Every wind that blows You level with the ground. Poor creature! reI the oak; not a day passes, that you can say
ife is your own.
Y it please your majesty, said the reed to the ch oak, I am quite contented with my humble on. Nature has planted me in an obscure
nook, where not even the asses come. wind blows, I suffer its fury to ms ot& never lose my courage and tranquillity and, when the storm subsides, I lift my h much health, ami as little broken downI has happened, as ever. Might I give said the reed, I should think, sir, that ye is much more dangerous than mine.
My station dangerous! rejoined the o fool, you do not know what you are ta My strength is unconquerable, and I can the rage of the temipests.
It seemed as if the invisible master of' heard the insolent brags of the oak. minute elapsed, before a violent storm blow. It grew louder and louder; th roared like the roaring of a lion. lThe bent to the ground with the first blast. willows and hawthorns were torn up by At last the oak itself; ponderous and imm it seemed, was rent away from its place prostrate on the plain. In the mean tim, had suffered no injury, but what was enti as soon as the sky cleared, and tkY wda Calm.
This fable is intended to show, how the situation of a peasant is, than that Of eWhen the world is agitated with revoluti may lose their thrones, their wealth, and so their lives. In the mean time the vpas. lived not far from the palace-date, cotiO turbed, and perhaps scarcely knows the ni monarch who was led away to a prison, despot-usurper who succeeded him..
TIHE FOX WITIHOUJT-A TAIL.
fox-is in several parts of England dreaded as t formidable enemy of the ftrm-yard. The is at a great exFence of thoney and trouble, h and rear his ducks and fowls and turkies ese: no wonder therefore that hlie employs means in his power to preserve them from destroyed by the foxes. One of these meis to Put up traps, in which the unfortunate al is caught, an.d held by the leg, or some part is body, till the farmer comes and kills him. happened one day that a fbx being very huncme prowling into a tfaim yard, and unafell in with a trap. I d, not know whether farmer will forgive me, but I cannot help hopthat he got his breakfast first; -for it would be id, to be caught in a trap, and to be famished linger at the same time. le was caught in so a way, that the trap just cut off his tail, (t doing him any further harm. I dare say in was considerable; but the fox did not so mind the smart, as hlie was sorry for the loss xPerienced. A fox has a fine bushy tail, as as his whole body from his shoulder to his P: and I do not know how it happens, -but alall animals that we are acqueained with, are d of that feature which is most distinguishinIg beautiful about them. The cat is t arevtbful of her and delicate fur ; the horse tosses his flowing ; the turtle-dove winds her glossy 'neck in the er best calculated to display its elegant form coloaring; and the peacock s ruts, displyi ig tail with a hundred eyes. There was another Umstance which increased the fox's sorrow; ani-
rnals are very apt to drive out of their comp creature of the same kind, that has met wi fortune, and is maimed or imperfect in as parts. This is very naughty of such aniim poor creatures! they have never been taught The fox I am telling of was sadly distressed thought of these things, and, in the angui feelings, wished he had been caught by' t and killed outright, rather than have lost hi .
He sneaked back to his hole as fist as he' and did not venture out in the fields forSAt length he sent his wife to all the fox, neighbourhood, to beg they would meet h the willows in a certain place, as he had a tion of great use to them all to communicate
The foxes came, and a fine assembly there them. Old and young, nimble and lame, fat, they were all there. The farmer wo made terrible havoc, if he had come amfo with his gun; but they were aware of t held their meeting in a snug, out-of-the way quite remote from danger and harm.
The company being all met, our fox' w
to tell him he was waited for. The fox t through the bushes, and as soon as he wa circle, sat down close to the place by whicl entered.
How do you do, gentlemen ? says he, madam your wife is pretty well, and all the little creatures at home. That he-young yours promises well; I hear he comes on The fox had some compliment or other. one of them.
What I had to propose, was that we sh agree to cut off our tails.
The foxes stared.
The speaker went on. I have devoted a of my time to the study of anatomy, and part of that part of anatomy which explains the iu different parts of the body. Let me theni