Posted by r. a. Thurs., Aug.10, 2017
The House Dog And Wolf
A lean, hungry wolf chanced one moonlit night to fall in with a plump, well-fed house dog. After the first compliments were passed between them, “How is it, my friend,” said the wolf, “that you look so sleek? How well your food agrees with you! And here am I striving for my living night and day and can hardly save myself from starving.”
“Well,” says the dog, “if you would fare like me, you have only to do as I do.” “Indeed!” says he, “and what is that?” “Why,” replied the dog, “just to guard the master’s house and keep off the thieves at night.” “With all my heart; for at present I have but a sorry time of it. This woodland life, with its frosts and rains, is sharp work for me. To have a warm roof over my head and a bellyful of victuals always at hand will, I think, not be a bad exchange.” “True,” said the dog; “therefore you have nothing to do but to follow me.”
Now as they were jogging on together, the wolf spied a mark in the dog’s neck, and having a strange curiosity, could not resist asking what it meant. “Pooh! Nothing at all,” says the dog. “No, tell me” said the wolf. “Oh! A mere trifle, perhaps the collar to which my chain is fastened.”
“Chain!” cried the wolf in surprise; “you don’t mean that you cannot rove when and where you please?” “Why, not exactly perhaps; you see I am looked upon as rather fierce, so they sometimes tie me up in the daytime, but I assure you I have perfect liberty at night. The master feeds me off his own plate and the servants give me their tidbits. I am such a favorite, so what is the matter? Where are you going?”
“Oh, good night to you,” said the wolf; “you are welcome to your dainties; but for me, a dry crust with liberty is better than a king’s luxury with a chain.”
The Laborer And The Snake
A snake, having made his hole close to the porch of a cottage, inflicted a severe bite on the cottager’s infant son. The son subsequently died, to the great grief of his parents.
The father resolved to kill the snake and the next day, on its coming out of its hole for food, took up his axe. Making too much haste to hit him, the cottager missed the snake’s head and cut off only the end of his tail.
After some time the cottager, afraid lest the snake should bite him also, endeavored to make peace and placed some bread and salt beside his hole. The snake, slightly hissing, said, “There can henceforth be no peace between us. For whenever I see you I shall remember the loss of my tail, and whenever you see me you will be thinking of the death of your son.”
No one truly forgets injuries in the presence of him who caused the injury.