THE WANTON CALF.

A Calf, which had been some time fattening in a rich pasture, full of wantonness and arrogance, could not forbear insulting an old Ox every time he saw him at the plough. What a sorry drudge art thou, says he, to bear that heavy yoke, and draw all day a plough at thy tail! See, what a fat, sleek, and comely appearance I make, and what a life of ease I lead: I go where I please, and frisk about in the sunshine, or lie down under the cool shade, just as my own fancy prompts me. The Ox, not moved by this insolence, made no reply, but pursued his daily round of alternate labour and rest, until he saw the Calf taken and delivered to a priest, who immediately led him to the altar, and prepared to sacrifice him. When the fatal knife was just at his throat, the Ox drew near, and whispered him to this purpose: see what your wanton and lazy life has brought you to, a premature and painful death.

APPLICATION.

We may learn by this Fable the general consequence of an idle life, and how well rewarded laborious diligent men are in the end, when they quietly enjoy the fruits of their industry. They who by little tricks and chicanery, or by open violence and robbery, are enabled to live in a high expensive way, often despise the poor honest man, who is contented with the humble produce of his daily labour. But how often is the poor man comforted, by seeing these wanton villains led in disgrace and misery to the altar of justice, while he has many a cheerful summer’s morning to enjoy abroad, and many a long winter’s evening to indulge in at home, by a quiet hearth, and under an unenvied roof: blessings, which often attend a sober industrious man, though the idle and the profligate are utter strangers to them. Luxury and intemperance, besides their inevitable tendency to shorten a man’s days, are very apt to engage their besotted votaries in a debauched life, not only prejudicial to their health, but which engenders in them a contempt for those whose good sense and true taste of happiness inspire them with an aversion to idleness and effeminacy, and put them upon hardening their constitution by innocent exercise and laudable employment. How many do gluttony and sloth tumble into an untimely grave! while the temperate and the active drink sober draughts of life, and spin out the thread of their existence to the most desirable length.


THE BOASTING TRAVELLER.

One who had been abroad, was giving an account of his travels, and among other places, said he had been at Rhodes, where he had distinguished himself so much in leaping, an exercise which that city was famous for, that not a Rhodian could come near him. When those who were present did not seem to credit this relation so readily as he intended they should, he took some pains to convince them of it by oaths and protestations: upon which, one of the company told him he need not give himself so much trouble about it, since he would put him in a way to demonstrate the fact; which was, to suppose the place they were in to be Rhodes, and to perform his extraordinary leap over again. The boaster, not liking this proposal, sat down quietly, and had no more to say for himself.

APPLICATION.

We had better be contented to keep our exploits to ourselves, than to appear ridiculous by attempting to force a belief of that which is improbable; and travelled gentlemen should have a care how they import falsehoods and inventions of their own from foreign parts, and attempt to vend them at home for staple truths. It cannot be too strongly impressed upon the mind, that a lie is upon all occasions degrading to the person who utters it, and should be most scrupulously avoided, not only on account of its baseness, but because it is impossible to foresee in how many troubles it may involve him who passes it off. It will not always receive credit, and is ever liable to detection. When it is calculated for wicked purposes, it will deservedly incur punishment; and when it is of a harmless or insignificant nature, it will even then often expose its author to contempt and ridicule; and vanity never mistakes its end more grossly, than when it attempts to aggrandize itself at the expence of truth.