A Fowler caught a Partridge in his nets, and was just about to wring its neck when it made a piteous appeal to him to spare its life and said, “Do not kill me, but let me live and I will repay you for your kindness by decoying other partridges into your nets.” “No,” said the Fowler, “I will not spare you. I was going to kill you anyhow, and after that treacherous speech you thoroughly deserve your fate.”
A Slave, being discontented with his lot, ran away from his master. He was soon missed by the latter, who lost no time in mounting his horse and setting out in pursuit of the fugitive. He presently came up with him, and the Slave, in the hope of avoiding capture, slipped into a treadmill and hid himself there. “Aha,” said his master, “that’s the very place for you, my man!”
A Hunter was searching in the forest for the tracks of a lion, and, catching sight presently of a Woodman engaged in felling a tree, he went up to him and asked him if he had noticed a lion’s footprints anywhere about, or if he knew where his den was. The Woodman answered, “If you will come with me, I will show you the lion himself.” The Hunter turned pale with fear, and his teeth chattered as he replied, “Oh, I’m not looking for the lion, thanks, but only for his tracks.”
An Eagle swooped down upon a Serpent and seized it in his talons with the intention of carrying it off and devouring it. But the Serpent was too quick for him and had its coils round him in a moment; and then there ensued a life-and-death struggle between the two. A countryman, who was a witness of the encounter, came to the assistance of the Eagle, and succeeded in freeing him from the Serpent and enabling him to escape. In revenge the Serpent spat some of his poison into the man’s drinking-horn. Heated with his exertions, the man was about to slake his thirst with a draught from the horn, when the Eagle knocked it out of his hand, and spilled its contents upon the ground.
A Rogue laid a wager that he would prove the Oracle at Delphi to be untrustworthy by procuring from it a false reply to an inquiry by himself. So he went to the temple on the appointed day with a small bird in his hand, which he concealed under the folds of his cloak, and asked whether what he held in his hand were alive or dead. If the Oracle said “dead,” he meant to produce the bird alive: if the reply was “alive,” he intended to wring its neck and show it to be dead. But the Oracle was one too many for him, for the answer he got was this: “Stranger, whether the thing that you hold in your hand be alive or dead is a matter that depends entirely on your own will.”
A Horse, proud of his fine harness, met an Ass on the highroad. As the Ass with his heavy burden moved slowly out of the way to let him pass, the Horse cried out impatiently that he could hardly resist kicking him to make him move faster. The Ass held his peace, but did not forget the other’s insolence. Not long afterwards the Horse became broken-winded, and was sold by his owner to a farmer. One day, as he was drawing a dung-cart, he met the Ass again, who in turn derided him and said, “Aha! you never thought to come to this, did you, you who were so proud! Where are all your gay trappings now?”
A Dog was chasing a Wolf, and as he ran he thought what a fine fellow he was, and what strong legs he had, and how quickly they covered the ground. “Now, there’s this Wolf,” he said to himself, “what a poor creature he is: he’s no match for me, and he knows it and so he runs away.” But the Wolf looked round just then and said, “Don’t you imagine I’m running away from you, my friend: it’s your master I’m afraid of.”
When Jupiter was assigning the various gods their privileges, it so happened that Grief was not present with the rest: but when all had received their share, he too entered and claimed his due. Jupiter was at a loss to know what to do, for there was nothing left for him. However, at last he decided that to him should belong the tears that are shed for the dead. Thus it is the same with Grief as it is with the other gods. The more devoutly men render to him his due, the more lavish is he of that which he has to bestow. It is not well, therefore, to mourn long for the departed; else Grief, whose sole pleasure is in such mourning, will be quick to send fresh cause for tears.
The Pigeons in a certain dovecote were persecuted by a Kite, who every now and then swooped down and carried off one of their number. So they invited a Hawk into the dovecote to defend them against their enemy. But they soon repented of their folly: for the Hawk killed more of them in a day than the Kite had done in a year.
A Woman, who had lately lost her husband, used to go every day to
