The Camel presented a petition to Jupiter, complaining of the hardships of his case, in not having, like bulls and other creatures, horns, or any weapon of defence to protect himself from the attacks of his enemies; and praying that relief might be granted him in such manner as should be thought most expedient. Jupiter could not help smiling at his impertinent address; but, however, rejected the petition, and told him, that so far from granting his unreasonable request, he would take care that henceforward his ears should be shortened, as a punishment for his presumptuous importunity.
APPLICATION.
The nature of things is so fixed in every particular, that they are very weak, superstitious people, who think that it can be altered. But besides the impossibility of producing a change by foolish importunities, they who employ much of their time in that way, instead of getting, are sure to lose in the end. When any man is so silly and vexatious as to make unreasonable complaints, and to harbour undue repinings in his heart, his peevishness will lessen the real good which he possesses, and the sourness of his temper shorten that allowance of comfort which he already thinks too scanty. Thus, in truth, it is not Providence, but ourselves, who punish our own importunity, in soliciting for impossibilities, with a sharp corroding care, which abridges us of some part of that little pleasure which Heaven has cast into our lot.
Happy the man without a wish for more,
Who quietly enjoys his little store,
And knows to heaven, with gratitude to pay
Thanks for what’s given, and what is ta’en away.
THE STAG AND THE FAWN.
A Stag, grown old and mischievous, was, according to custom, stamping with his foot, making threatening motions with his head, and bellowing so terribly, that the whole herd quaked for fear of him; when one of the little Fawns coming up, addressed him to this purpose: Pray what is the reason that you, who are so stout and formidable at all other times, if you do but hear the cry of the hounds, are ready to fly out of your skin for fear? What you observe is true, replied the Stag, though I know not how to account for it: I am indeed vigorous and able enough, I think, to defend myself against all attacks, and often resolve with myself, that nothing shall ever dismay my courage for the future; but, alas! I no sooner hear the voice of the hounds, but all my spirits fail, and I cannot help making off as fast as my legs can carry me.