of my new house, but I thought I would tell you first, that we might go in together, and both lodge there tonight, for it will hold us both." My dear child," said the old Mouse, "it is most happy that you did not go in, for this house is called a trap, and you would never have come out again, except to be devoured, or put to death in some way or other. Though man has not so fierce a look as a cat, he is as much our enemy, and has still more cunning." THE WASP AND THE BEE. A Fable. A WASP met a Bee, and said to him, "Pray can you tell me what is the reason that men are so illnatured to me, while they are so fond of you? We are very much alike, only that the broad golden rings about my body make me much handsomer than you are: we are both winged insects, we both love honey, and we both sting people when we are angry; yet men always hate me, and try to kill me, though I am much more familiar with them than you are, and pay them visits in their houses, and at their tea-tables, and at all their meals: while you are very shy, and hardly ever come near them: yet they build you curious houses thatched with straw, and take care of and feed you in the winter very often. I wonder what is the reason." The Bee said, "Because you never do them any good, but, on the contrary, are very troublesome and mischievous; therefore they do not like to see you; but they know that I am busy all day long in making them honey. You had better pay them fewer visits, and try to be useful." THE GOOSE AND THE HORSE. A Fable. A Goose, who was plucking grass upon a common, thought herself affronted by a Horse who fed near her, and in hissing accents thus addressed him: "I am certainly a more noble and perfect animal than you, for the whole range and extent of your faculties is confined to one element. I can walk upon the ground, as well as you: I have, besides, wings, with which I can raise myself in the air; and, when I please, I can sport in ponds and lakes, and refresh myself in the cool waters: I enjoy the different powers of a bird, a fish, and a quadruped." The Horse, snorting somewhat disdainfully, replied, "It is true you inhabit three elements, but you make no very distinguished figure in any one of them. You fly, indeed; but your flight is so heavy and clumsy, that you have no right to put yourself on a level with the lark or the swallow. You can swim on the surface of the waters, but you cannot live in them as fishes do; you cannot find much of your food in that element, nor glide smoothly along the bottom of the waves. And when you walk, or rather waddle, upon the ground, with your broad feet, and your long neck stretched out, hissing at every one who passes by, you bring upon yourself the derision of all beholders. I confess that I am formed only to move upon the ground; but how graceful is my make! how well turned my limbs! how highly finished my whole body! how great my strength! how astonishing my speed! I had far rather be confined to one element, and be admired in that, than be a Goose in all." THE FLYING FISH. :: THE Flying Fish, says the Fable, had originally no wings, but being of an ambitious and discontented temper, she repined at always being confined to the waters, and wished to soar in the air. "If I could fly like the birds," said she, "I should not only see more of the beauties of nature, but I should be able to escape from those fish which are continually pursuing me, and which render my life miserable." She therefore petitioned Jupiter for a pair of wings and immediately she perceived her fins to expand. They suddenly grew to the length of her whole body, and became at the same time so strong as to do the office of pinions. She was at first much pleased with her new powers, and looked with an air of disdain on all her former companions; but she soon perceived herself exposed to new dangers. When flying in the air, she was incessantly pursued by the tropic bird and the albatross; and when, for safety, she dropped into the water, she was so fatigued with her flight, that she was less able than ever to escape from her old enemies, the fish. Finding herself more unhappy than before, she now begged of Jupiter to recall his present; but Jupiter said to her, "When I gave you your wings, I well knew they would prove a curse; but your proud and restless disposition deserved this disappointment. Now, therefore, what you begged as a favour, keep as a punishment!" THE LITTLE DOG. "WHAT shall I do," said a very little dog one day to his mother, "to show my gratitude to our good master, and make myself of some value to him? I cannot draw or carry burdens, like the horse; nor give him milk, like the cow; nor lend him my covering for his clothing, like the sheep; nor produce him eggs, like the poultry; nor catch mice and rats so well as the cat. I cannot divert him with singing, like the canaries and linnets; nor can I defend him against robbers, like our relation Towzer; I should not be of use to him even if I were dead, as the hogs are. I am a poor, insignificant creature, not worth the cost of keeping; and I don't see that I can do a single thing to entitle me to his regard." So saying, the poor little dog hung down his head in silent despondency. 66 My dear pet," replied his mother, "though your abilities are but small, yet a hearty goodwill is sufficient to supply all defects. Do but love your master dearly, and prove your love by all the means in your power, and you will not fail to please him." The little dog was comforted with this assurance, and, on his master's approach, ran to him, licked his feet, gambolled before him, and every now and then stopped, wagging his tail, and looking up to him with expressions of the most humble and affectionate attachment. The master observed him. "Ah! little Fido," said he, "you are an honest, good-natured little fellow!"—and stooped down to pat his head. Poor Fido was ready to go out of his wits for joy. Fido was now his master's constant companion in his walks, playing and skipping around him, and amusing him by a thousand sportive tricks. He took care, however, not to be troublesome by leaping on him with dirty paws, nor would he follow him into the parlour, unless invited. He also attempted to make himself useful by a number of little services. He would drive away the sparrows, as they were stealing the chickens' meat; and would run and bark with the utmost fury at any strange pigs or other animals that offered to come into the yard. He kept the poultry, geese, and pigs from straying beyond their bounds, and particularly from doing mischief in the garden. He was always ready to alarm Towzer if there were any suspicious noise about the house, day or night. If his master pulled off his coat in the field to help his workmen, as he would sometimes do, Fido always sat by it, and would not suffer either man or beast to touch it. By this means he came to be considered as a very trusty protector of his master's property. His master was once confined to his bed with a dangerous illness. Fido planted himself at the chamber-door, and could not be persuaded to leave it, even to take food; and as soon as his master had so far recovered as to sit up, Fido, being admitted into the room, ran up to him with such marks of excessive joy and affection as would have melted any heart to behold. This circumstance wonderfully endeared him to his master; and some time after he had an opportunity of doing him a very important service. One hot day, after dinner, his master was sleeping in a summer-house with Fido by his side. The building was old and crazy; and the dog, who was faithfully watching his master, perceived the wall shake, and pieces of mortar fall from the ceiling. He comprehended the danger, and began barking to awake his master; and this not sufficing, he jumped up, and gently bit his finger. The master upon this started up, and had just time to get out of the door before the whole building fell down. Fido, who was behind, got hurt by some rubbish which fell upon him; on which his master had him taken care of with the utmost tenderness, and ever after acknowledged his obligation to this little animal as the preserver of his life. Thus his love and fidelity had their full reward. Moral. The poorest man may repay his obligations to the richest and greatest by faithful and affectionate service the meanest creature may obtain the favour and regard of the Creator himself, by humble gratitude, and steadfast obedience. |