But the Tortoise held on like grim death. He was
too weak to pull the Jackal under, but he was too heavy
for the Jackal to pull out; so there he bides his time.
By-and-by the tide began to rise. The tide rose to the
Jackal's middle, it rose to his head; and his last howls
came up from underneath the water in big
bubbles, which showed that the crafty
Jackal would play his mean
tricks never more.
The Farmer's Ass
HERE was once a Farmer, who had an Ass. It was the habit of this Ass to lift up his voice and bray, whenever he heard the church bells a-ringing. Now in the country where this Farmer lived, they used to believe that a man's soul passes when he dies into an animal, or something else. So this Farmer thought that any Ass that was fond of church bells, must have been a great saint in some former life. Accordingly, he named his Ass St. Anthony.
All his life long, this Ass served the Farmer faithfully, and earned him a great deal of money. At last the Ass died of old age.
The Farmer was very sad and sorry when his Ass died. "My Ass served me faithfully," said he, "and it's only fair he should have a good funeral." So he sent for the undertaker, and told him to make a big coffin, and put it on a hearse, and buried the Ass with great splendour. Then he shaved off every scrap of hair from his head, as the custom was in those parts when anybody died, and gave a funeral feast to all his relations, and dressed himself in black.