lion's skin and turn him loose in the rice and barley fields. And when the watchmen in the fields saw the ass they dared not go near him, taking him for a lion.

So one day the hawker stopped in a village; and while he was getting his own breakfast cooked, he dressed the ass in a lion's skin and turned him loose in a barley field. The watchmen in the field dared not go up to him; but going home, they published the news. Then all the villagers came out with weapons in their hands; and blowing chanks, and beating drums, they went near the field and shouted. Terrified with the fear of death, the ass uttered a cry-the bray of an ass!

And when he knew him then to be an ass, the future Buddha pronounced the first verse:

"This is not a lion's roaring,
Nor a tiger's nor a panther's;
Dressed in a lion's skin,

'Tis a wretched ass that roars!"

grew up he became the king's adviser in things temporal and spiritual.

Now this king was very talkative; while he was speaking others had no opportunity for a word. And the future Buddha, wanting to cure this talkativeness of his, was constantly seeking for some means of doing so.

At that time there was living, in a pond in the Himalaya mountains, a tortoise, Two young hamsas, or wild ducks, who came to feed there, made friends with him, and one day, when they had become very intimate with him, they said to the tortoise:

"Friend tortoise! the place where we live, at the Golden Cave on Mount Beautiful in the Himalaya country, is a delightful spot. Will you come there with us?

"But how can I get there?"

"We can take you if you can only hold your tongue, and will say nothing to anybody."

"Oh! that I can do. Take me with

you."

"That's right," said they. And mak

verse:

"Long might the ass,

Clad in a lion's skin,

Have fed on the barley green;

But he brayed

And that moment he came to ruin."

themselves took the two ends in their teeth, and flew up into the air.

Seeing him thus carried by the hamsas, some villagers called out, "Two wild ducks are carrying a tortoise along on a stick!" Whereupon the tortoise wanted to say, "If my friends choose to carry me, what is that to you, you wretched

238

THE TALKATIVE TORTOISE

The future Buddha was once born in a minister's family, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares; and when he

the wild ducks had brought him over the king's palace in the city of Benares, he let go of the stick he was biting, and falling in the open courtyard, split in two! And there arose a universal cry, "A tortoise has fallen in the open courtyard, and has split in two!"

The king, taking the future Buddha, went to the place, surrounded by his courtiers; and looking at the tortoise, he asked the Bodisat, "Teacher! how comes he to be fallen here?"

The future Buddha thought to himself, "Long expecting, wishing to admonish the king, have I sought for some means of doing so. This tortoise must have made friends with the wild ducks; and they must have made him bite hold of the stick, and have flown up into the air to take him to the hills. But he, being unable to hold his tongue when he hears any one else talk, must have wanted to say something, and let go the stick; and so must have fallen down from the sky, and thus lost his life." And saying, "Truly, O king! those who are called chatter-boxes-people whose words have no end-come to grief like this," he uttered these verses:

"Verily the tortoise killed himself
While uttering his voice;

Though he was holding tight the stick,
By a word himself he slew.

"Behold him then, O excellent by strength!
And speak wise words, not out of season.
You see how, by his talking overmuch,
The tortoise fell into this wretched plight!"

The king saw that he was himself referred to, and said, "O Teacher! are you speaking of us?"

And the Bodisat spake openly, and said, "O great king! be it thou, or be it any other, whoever talks beyond measure meets with some mishap like this." | And the king henceforth refrained himself, and became a man of few words.

Good Counsel), a collection of Sanskrit fables. This collection was complied from older sources, probably in the main from the Panchatantra (Five Books), which belonged to about the fifth century. Observe the emphasis placed upon the teaching of the fable by putting the statement of it at the beginning and recurring to it at the close.

A LION TRICKED BY A RABBIT

He who hath sense hath strength. Where hath he strength who wanteth judgment? See how a lion, when intoxicated with anger, was overcome by a rabbit.

Upon the mountain Mandara there lived a lion, whose name was Durganta (hard to go near), who was very exact

in complying with in complying with the ordinance for animal sacrifices. So at length all the different species assembled, and in a body represented that, as by his present mode of proceeding the forest would be cleared all at once, if it pleased his Highness, they would each of them in his turn provide him an animal for his daily food. And the lion gave his consent accordingly. Thus every beast delivered his stipulated provision, till at length, it coming to the rabbit's turn, he began to meditate in this manner: "Policy should be practiced by him who would save his life; and I myself shall lose mine if I do not take care. Suppose I lead him after another lion? Who knows how that may turn out for me? I will approach him slowly, as if fatigued."

The lion by this time began to be very hungry; so, seeing the rabbit coming toward him, he called out in a great passion, "What is the reason thou comest so late?"

"Please your Highness," said the rabbit, "as I was coming along I was forcibly detained by another of your

species; but having given him my word that I would return immediately, I came here to represent it to your Highness." "Go quickly," said the lion in a rage, "and show me where this vile wretch may be found!"

Accordingly, the rabbit conducted the lion to the brink of a deep well, where being arrived, "There," said the rabbit, "look down and behold him." At the same time he pointed to the reflected image of the lion in the water, who, swelling with pride and resentment, leaped into the well, as he thought, upon his adversary; and thus put an end to his life.

I repeat, therefore:

He who hath sense hath strength. Where hath he strength who wanteth judgment?

240

Marie de France lived probably in the latter part of the twelfth century and was one of the most striking figures in Middle English literature. She seems to have been born in France, lived much in England, translated from the Anglo-Norman dialect into French, and is spoken of as the first French poet. One of her three works, and the most extensive, is a collection of 103 fables, which she says she translated from the English of King Alfred. Her original, whatever it may have been, is lost. One of her fables, in a translation by Professor W. W. Skeat, is given below. It contains the germ of Chaucer's "Nun's Priest's Tale," in The Canterbury Tales.

THE COCK AND THE FOX
MARIE DE FRANCE

A Cock our story tells of, who
High on a trash hill stood and crew.
A Fox, attracted, straight drew nigh,
And spake soft words of flattery.

"Dear Sir!" said he, "your look's divine; I never saw a bird so fine!

I never heard a voice so clear
Except your father's-ah! poor dear!
His voice rang clearly, loudly-but
Most clearly when his eyes were shut!"
"The same with me!" the Cock replies,
And flaps his wings, and shuts his eyes.
Each note rings clearer than the last
The Fox starts up and holds him fast;
Toward the wood he hies apace.

But as he crossed an open space, The shepherds spy him; off they fly; The dogs give chase with hue and cry. The Fox still holds the Cock, though fear Suggests his case is growing queer. "Tush!" cries the Cock, "cry out, to grieve 'em,

'The cock is mine! I'll never leave him!'"

The Fox attempts, in scorn, to shout, And opes his mouth; the Cock slips out, And in a trice has gained a tree.

Too late the Fox begins to see How well the Cock his game has played; For once his tricks have been repaid. In angry language, uncontrolled, He 'gins to curse the mouth that's bold To speak, when it should silent be. "Well," says the Cock, "the same with

me;

I curse the eyes that go to sleep Just when they ought sharp watch to keep

Lest evil to their lord befall."

Thus fools contrariously do all; They chatter when they should be dumb, And, when they ought to speak, are mum.

241

The following is Wright's translation of the first fable in La Fontaine's collection. Rousseau, objecting to fables in general, singled out this particular one as an example of their bad effects on children, and echoes of his voice are still in evidence. It would, he said, give children a lesson in inhumanity.

"You believe you are making an example of the grasshopper, but they will choose the ant . . . . they will take the more pleasant part, which is a very natural thing." Another observer said: "As for me, I love neither grasshopper nor ant, neither avarice nor prodigality, neither the miserly people who lend nor the spendthrifts who borrow." These statements represent complex, analytic points of view which are probably outside the range of most children. They will see the grasshopper simply as a type of thorough. shiftlessness and the ant as a type of forethought, although La Fontaine does suggest that the ant might on general principles be a little less "tight-fisted." The lesson that idleness is the mother of want, the necessity of looking ahead, of providing for the future, of laying up for a rainy day- these are certainly commonsense conclusions and the only ones the story itself will suggest to the child.

THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT

LA FONTAINE

A grasshopper gay
Sang the summer away,
And found herself poor
By the winter's first roar.
Of meat or of bread,
Not a morsel she had!
So a begging she went,
To her neighbor the ant,

For the loan of some wheat, Which would serve her to eat, Till the season came round.

"I will pay you," she saith, "On an animal's faith, Double weight in the pound Ere the harvest be bound."

The ant is a friend

(And here she might mend)
Little given to lend.

"How spent you the summer?" Quoth she, looking shame At the borrowing dame. "Night and day to each comer I sang, if you please." "You sang! I'm at ease; For 'tis plain at a glance, Now, ma'am, you must dance."

242

The translation of the following fable is that of W. Lucas Collins, in his La Fontaine and Other French Fabulists. This fable has always been a great favorite among the French, and the translator has caught much of the sprightly tone of his original.

THE COCK, THE CAT, AND THE YOUNG MOUSE

LA FONTAINE

A pert young Mouse, to whom the world

was new,

Had once a near escape, if all be true. He told his mother, as I now tell you: "I crossed the mountains that beyond us rise,

And, journeying onwards, bore me As one who had a great career before me, When lo! two creatures met my wonder

ing eyes,

The one of gracious mien, benign and mild; The other fierce and wild,

With high-pitched voice that filled me with alarm;

A lump of sanguine flesh grew on his head,

And with a kind of arm
He raised himself in air,
As if to hover there;

His tail was like a horseman's plume outspread."

(It was a farmyard Cock, you understand,

That our young friend described in terms so grand,

As 'twere some marvel come from foreign land.)

"With arms raised high

He beat his sides, and made such hide

ous cry,

That even I,

Brave as I am, thank heaven! had wellnigh fainted:

Straightway I took to flight,

And cursed him left and right. Ah! but for him, I might have got acquainted

With that sweet creature,

Who bore attractiveness in every feature: A velvet skin he had, like yours and mine, A tail so long and fine,

A sweet, meek countenance, a modest air

Yet, what an eye was there!

I feel that, on the whole,

He must have strong affinities of soul our ears are shaped

With our great race

the same.

I should have made my bow, and asked his name,

But at the fearful cry

Raised by that monster, I was forced to fly."

"My child," replied his mother, "you have seen

That demure hypocrite we call a Cat: Under that sleek and inoffensive mien He bears a deadly hate of Mouse and Rat.

The other, whom you feared, is harmless-quite;

Nay, perhaps may serve us for a meal some night.

As for your friend, for all his innocent air, We form the staple of his bill of fare."

Take, while you live, this warning as your guide

Don't judge by the outside.

243

John Gay (1685-1732) was an English poet and dramatist. His work as a whole has been pretty well forgotten, but he has been recently brought back to the mind of the public by the revival of his satirical Beggar's Opera, the ancestor of the modern comic opera. Gay published a collection of fables in verse in 1727, "prepared for the edification of the young Duke of Cumberland." A second group, making sixty-six in all, was published after his death. Since these fables are probably the best of their kind in English, a few of them are frequently met with in collections. "The Hare with Many Friends" has been the favorite, and rightly so, as it has something of the humor and point that belong to the real fable. Perhaps the fact that it has a personal application enabled Gay to write with more vigor and sincerity than elsewhere.

THE HARE WITH MANY FRIENDS

JOHN GAY

Friendship, like love, is but a name,
Unless to one you stint the flame.
The child whom many fathers share,
Hath seldom known a father's care.
'Tis thus in friendship; who depend
On many rarely find a friend.
A Hare, who, in a civil way,
Complied with everything, like Gay,
Was known by all the bestial train
Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain.
Her care was, never to offend,
And every creature was her friend.
As forth she went at early dawn,
To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,
Behind she hears the hunter's cries,
And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies.
She starts, she stops, she pants for breath;
She hears the near advance of death;
She doubles, to mislead the hound,
And measures back her mazy round: