A Raven had once built her nest for many seasons together in a convenient cleft of a mountain, but however pleasing the place was to her, she had always reason enough to resolve to lay there no more; for every time she hatched, a Serpent came and devoured her young ones. The Raven complaining to a Fox that was one of her friends, said to him, “Pray tell me, what would you advise me to do to be rid of this Serpent?” “What do you think to do?” answered the Fox. “Why, my present intent is,” replied the Raven, “to go and peck out his eyes when he is asleep, that so he may no longer find the way to my nest.” The Fox disapproved this design, and told the Raven, that it became a prudent person to manage his revenge in such a manner, that no mischief might befall himself in taking it: “Never run yourself,” says he, “into the misfortune that once befell the Crane, of which I will tell you the Fable.”
THE CRANE AND THE CRAY-FISH
A Crane had once settled her habitation by the side of a broad and deep lake, and lived upon such fish as she could catch in it; these she got in plenty enough for many years; but at length being become old and feeble, she could fish no longer. In this afflicting circumstance she began to reflect, with sorrow, on the carelessness of her past years; “I did ill,” said she to herself, “in not making in my youth necessary provision to support me in my old age; but, as it is, I must now make the best of a bad market, and use cunning to get a livelihood as I can”: with this resolution she placed herself by the waterside, and began to sigh and look mighty melancholy. A Cray-fish, perceiving her at a distance, accosted her, and asked her why she appeared so sad? “Alas,” said she, “how can I otherwise choose but grieve, seeing my daily nourishment is like to be taken from me? for I just now heard this talk between two fishermen passing this way: said the one to the other, Here is great store of fish, what think you of clearing this pond? to whom his companion answered, no; there is more in such a lake: let us go thither first, and then come hither the day afterwards. This they will certainly perform; and then,” added the Crane, “I must soon prepare for death.”
The Cray-fish, on this, went to the fish, and told them what she had heard: upon which the poor fish, in great perplexity, swam immediately to the Crane, and addressing themselves to her, told her what they had heard, and added, “We are now in so great a consternation, that we are come to desire your protection. Though you are our enemy, yet the wise tell us, that they who make their enemy their sanctuary, may be assured of being well received: you know full well that we are your daily food; and if we are destroyed, you, who are now too old to travel in search of food, must also perish; we pray you, therefore, for your own sake, as well as ours, to consider, and tell us what you think is the best course for us to take.” To which the Crane replied, “That which you acquaint me with, I heard myself from the mouths of the fishermen; we have no power sufficient to withstand them; nor do I know any other way to secure you, but this: it will be many months before they can clear the other pond they are to go about first: and, in the mean time, I can at times, and as my strength will permit me, remove you one after another into a little pond here hard by, where there is very good water, and where the fishermen can never catch you, by reason of the extraordinary depth.” The fish approved this counsel, and desired the Crane to carry them one by one into this pond. Nor did she fail to fish up three or four every morning, but she carried them no farther than to the top of a small hill, where she eat them: and thus she feasted herself for a while.
But one day, the Cray-fish, having a desire to see this delicate pond, made known her curiosity to the Crane, who, bethinking herself that the Cray-fish was her most mortal enemy, resolved to get rid of her at once, and murder her as she had done the rest; with this design she flung the Cray-fish upon her neck, and flew towards the hill. But when they came near the place, the Cray-fish, spying at a distance the small bones of her slaughtered companions, mistrusted the Crane’s intention, and laying hold of a fair opportunity, got her neck in her claw, and grasped it so hard, that she fairly saved herself, and strangled the Crane.
“This example,” says the Fox, “shows you, that crafty tricking people often become victims to their own cunning.” The Raven, returning thanks to the Fox for his good advice, said, “I shall not by any means neglect your wholesome instructions; but what shall I do?” “Why,” replied the Fox, “you must snatch up something that belongs to some stout man or other, and let him see what you do, to the end he may follow you. Which that he may easily do, do you fly slowly; and when you are just over the Serpent’s hole, let fall the thing that you hold in your beak or talons whatever it be, for then the person that follows you, seeing the Serpent come forth, will not fail to knock him on the head.” The Raven did as the Fox advised him, and by that means was delivered from the Serpent.
THE MERCHANT AND HIS FRIEND
A Certain Merchant, said Kalila, pursuing her discourse, had once a great desire to make a long journey. Now in regard that he was not very wealthy, it is requisite, said he to himself, that before my departure I should leave some part of my estate in the city, to the end that if I meet with ill luck in my travels, I may have wherewithal to keep me at my return. To this purpose he delivered a great number of bars of iron, which were a principal part of his wealth, in trust to one of his friends, desiring him to keep them during his absence; and then taking his leave, away he went. Some time after, having had but ill luck in his travels, he returned home; and the first thing he did was to go to his Friend, and demand his iron: but his Friend, who owed several sums of money, having sold the iron to pay his own debts, made him this answer: “Truly friend,” said he, “I put your iron into a room that was close locked, imagining it would have been there as secure as my own gold; but an accident has happened which nobody could have suspected, for there was a rat in the room eat it all up.” The Merchant, pretending ignorance, replied, “It is a terrible misfortune to me indeed; but I know of old that rats love iron extremely; I have suffered by them many times before in the same manner, and therefore can the better bear my present affliction.” This answer extremely pleased the Friend, who was glad to hear the Merchant so well inclined to believe that the rats had eaten his iron; and to remove all suspicions, desired him to dine with him the next day. The Merchant promised he would, but in the mean time he met in the middle of the city one of his Friend’s children; the child he carried home, and locked up in a room. The next day he went to his Friend, who seemed to be in great affliction, which he asked him the cause of, as if he had been perfectly ignorant of what had happened. “Oh, my dear friend,” answered the other, “I beg you to excuse me, if you do not see me so cheerful as otherwise I would be; I have lost one of my children; I have had him cried by sound of trumpet, but I know not what is become of him.” “Oh!” replied the Merchant, “I am grieved to hear this; for yesterday in the evening, as I parted from hence, I saw an owl in the air with a child in his claws; but whether it were yours I cannot tell.” “Why, you most foolish and absurd creature!” replied the Friend, “are you not ashamed to tell such an egregious lie? An owl, that weighs at most not above two or three pounds, can he carry a boy that weighs above fifty?” “Why,” replied the merchant, “do you make such a wonder at that? as if in a country where one rat can eat an hundred ton weight of iron, it were such a wonder for an owl to carry a child that weighs not above fifty pounds in all.” The Friend, upon this, found that the Merchant was no such fool as he took him to be, begged his pardon for the cheat which he designed to have put upon him, restored him the value of his iron, and so had his son again.