THE WOLF AND THE LEAN DOG.

A HUNGRY Wolf caught a dog napping at some distance from the village; but the latter awaking, begged him to have compassion for a short time only; as he had not yet made his will, and his numerous relations would go to loggerheads about his worldly possessions, if he were to be devoured thus prematurely. Moreover," said the dog, "it will be for your own benefit to spare me for a few days, seeing how lean I am at present. To-morrow, my master gives away his only daughter in marriage to a rich country-gentleman. The wedding feast will not fail to be protracted for a week; during which time I shall become as plump as you can desire; and will not fail to be prepared, whenever you feel inclined to call upon me."

The wolf believing the dog's assertions, let him depart. After some days, he bethought himself of ascertaining whether his property were better worth eating ; but the dog was within the gates, and said to him through the palings: "My friend, I am coming out directly; if you will just wait there an instant, the porter and myself will be with you at once." By the porter, the cunning hound meant an enormous mastiff, famous for despatching wolves. Our wolf somehow mistrusted the scheme. My respects to the porter," said he; and set off at full speed. Fortunately for his hide he was very nimble, and escaped; but never again stayed his appetite for a wedding.

THE MURRAIN.

A DIRE disease which Heaven in wrath
Devised, to work wide woe and scath,
For crimes committed here on earth,
A sickness sore, a frightful evil,
More grievous far than war or dearth,
Consigning myriads daily to the devil :

In one short word, the Plague, with dreadful ravage,

Broke out amongst the brute creation,

Assailed all animals both tame and savage,
And widely spread around its devastation,

Nor fur nor feather spared, nor males nor ladies,
But birds and beasts despatched en masse to Hades.
If some died not, they scarcely lived,
Nor seemed aware they had survived,
Their instincts gone, and vanished quite
Propensities and appetite.

Nor fowls nor geese the fox allure,
And Isgrim's jaws are sinecure,
All moped in melancholy mood,
Reckless alike of fight or food.
The sometime tender turtle-dove,
Indiff'rent now to life and love

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(For life and love to her were one),
Her pining partner fain would shun.
The moulting mates disconsolate,
Droop, victims of the common fate.
The lion, in this sad conjuncture,
Whose conscience had received a puncture,
Resolved to hold a bed of justice,

And state to all in what his trust is.
"My fellow sufferers and friends,"

The royal speech in form begins,
'From righteous Heaven in wrath descends
This visitation for our sins.

Let all, then, secret crimes unfold,
And every tale of guilt be told.
So shall the greatest sinner seal,
Self-sacrificed, the general weal.
Nor deem it a new-fangled notion;
All hist'ry's full of such devotion.
To shorten, therefore, the debate,

Without unfruitful long digression,
That we may rightly judge our state,
Proceed we briefly to confession:
Without reservation

Or equivocation.

With openness, freedom and honest contrition,
Let us candidly look at our ghostly condition.

To begin with ourself, I must own I'm a glutton,

And have too much indulged a strong fancy for mutton, Now and then, it is true, too poor pastoral elf!

I have made a bonne bouche of the shepherd himself. What harm had they done me, the poor bleating prey? Their greatest offending was running away!

I am ready to die, and deserve it, I own;
But is death for injustice to ME due alone?
No, justice demands that the deadliest sinner,
Of such self-devotion should be the beginner.
Let's confess seriatim—and then, I opine,
You may hear of some greater offences than mine."
The monarch ceased, and judgment begs.
The fox was quickly on his legs,
And having caught the lion's eye,

He hastened thus to make reply:

"Ah! Sire, indeed you're much too good
To take account of such vile blood,

Too scrupulous and delicate

For one of your exalted state,

Your majesty is much too nice,
To deem sheep-slaughter such a vice!
Such slight unmeritable things!
Is mutton fare too fine for kings?
This for the brutes; then, for the man,
I think your Highness said, he ran.
Desert his flock! the precious pastor!

I am glad your majesty ran faster :

You were right to demolish so worthless a shepherd?

Would the wolf have done less? or the bear? or the leopard?

Our judgment, sire, secure abide;

"Twas justifiable homicide.

Besides the wretch, in my opinion,
Held illegitimate dominion;

O'er quadrupeds used crooked rule,
And was as much a knave as fool.

Let your majesty's eyes then be speedily wiped,
Are so many tears worth the while for a biped?"
The fox sat down; loud cheers resound,
And hear, hear, hear! was echoed round,
The tiger next, and savage Bruin,
Tho' guilty of less venial ruin,

The court discovered faults but few in:
Can crime exist in such high station?

All that had teeth, or tusks and spirit,
Absolved at once from all demerit,
Were guiltless found by acclamation.
At length the ass came to confession,
And thus denounced his own transgression :
"On thorny thistles starved and sad dock,
I chanced to pass the parson's paddock;
The sacred sward seemed sweet and green,
My appetite, I own, was keen,

And fair occasion urged to revel,
Or might it not have been the Devil?
Whate'er it was, I cropped the grass;
'Twas but a blade, as I'm an ass!

I own 'twas wrong, we must speak out;
I was a trespasser, no doubt!"

A general shout of indignation
Followed the donkey's declaration :
"I charge thee, ass, de par le roi,"
The tiger cried, (and raised his paw)
"Surrender in the name of law!"
Which he maintained, tho' no great clerk,
Was neither doubtful here, nor dark:

That sacrilege a deadly sin
Was deemed, and so had ever been,
The life of that dull long-eared loon,
Must expiate his guilt, and soon.

"

With one accord and general clatter,

All vote the case a hanging matter.

What! crop the close! the parson's too!
For this can less than death be due ?
When thorns and thistles grew so plenty,
Could nothing but the glebe content ye?
From such a sin but death can purge ye,
Death without benefit of clergy!"
Quick execution followed sentence,
And short the space for sad repentance.
The dying ass perceived too late
(Let biped asses mark his fate),

That weakness is our worst offence,

And strength the surest innocence.

THE COBBLER AND THE BANKER.

A COBBLER passed his time in singing from morning till night; it was wonderful to see, wond.ul to hear him; he was more contented in making shoes, than was any of seven sages, His neighbour, on the contrary, who was rolling in weal', sung but little, and slept less. He was a banker; when by chance he fell int a doze at day-break, the cobbler awoke him with his song. The banker complained sadly that Providence had not made sleep a saleable commodity, like edibles or drinkables. Having at length sent for the songster, he said to him: "How much a year do you earn, Master Gregory?"—" How much a year, sir ?” said the merry cobbler laughing; "I never reckon in that way, living as I do from one day to another; somehow I manage to reach the end of the year; each day brings its meal."-"Well then! how much a day do you earn, my friend ?"— Sometimes more, sometimes less; but the worst of it is (and, without that our earnings would be very tolerable), a number of days occur in the year on which we are forbidden to work; and the curate, moreover, is constantly adding some new saint to the list." The banker, laughing at his simplicity, said: "In future I shall place you above want. Take this hundred crowns, preserve them carefully, and make use of them in time of need." The cobbler fancied he beheld all the wealth which the earth had produced in the past century for the use of mankind. Returning home, he buried his money and his happiness at the same time. No more singing; he lost his voice, the moment he acquired that which is the source of so much grief. Sleep quitted his dwelling; and cares, suspicions, and false alarms took its place. All day, his eye wandered in the direction of his treasure ; and at night, if some stray cat made a noise, the cat was robbing him. At length the poor man ran to the house of his rich neighbour, whom he no longer awoke : "Give me back," said he, "sleep and my voice, and take your hundred crowns."

HISTORY OF THE OLD WOLF;

IN SEVEN FABLES.

I.

THE cruel wolf being in years, formed the gentle resolution of living on good terms with the shepherds. He immediately set out, and came to the swain whose flocks were nearest to his cave.

'Shepherd," said he, "you call me a blood-thirsty robber, although I am not such in reality. True I am compelled to attack your sheep when I am famished: for hunger is painful. Only save me from famine, give me enough to eat, and you shall have nothing to complain of, with respect to me; for I am really the tamest and most amiable beast when my hunger is satisfied."

When your hunger is satisfied? I have no doubt of it," replied the shepherd, "But when is your ravenous maw ever sated? You and avarice never yet had enough.

Go your way!"

II.

The rejected wolf came to a second swain.

You must be aware," he commenced, "that I could throttle a good many sheep for you during the year. Now if you like to give me annually, six sheep.

I will be satisfied. You may then sleep in safety and fearlessly dismiss your dogs."

"Six sheep?" said the shepherd. "Why that is a whole flock of itself!

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Well, since I know you, I'll let you off with five : " said the wolf.

You're joking; five sheep! I scarcely sacrifice five to Pan during the year."

Shall we say four?" pursued the wolf; the shepherd shook his head in derision.

"Three? -“Two? —”

"Not a single one; was at length the reply. “It would be madness, indeed, to render myself tributary to a foe, against whom I can protect myself, by keeping a sharp look out."

III.

"Misfortunes never come single;" thought the wolf, and repaired to a third shepherd.

I am very near being decried among you shepherds," said he, "as the most cruel, unreasonable animal in existence. I will convince you, Montano, how unjustly I am dealt with. Give me annually, one sheep, and your flock shall pasture uninjured in yonder forest, which is rendered unsafe by none but me. One sheep! What a trifle ! Could I behave more generously, more disinterestedly?— You laugh, shepherd? What excites your risibility?"

“Oh! nothing, nothing! But how old are you, friend?" said the shepherd. "What does my age concern you? Old enough to carry off your most cherished lambs."