Category Archives: AESOP TALES
240.The Mole and His Mother
A MOLE, a creature blind from birth, once said to his mother:
“I am sure than I can see, Mother!” In the desire to prove to him his mistake, his mother placed before him a few grains of frankincense, and asked, “What is it?”
The young mole said, “It is a pebble.”
His mother exclaimed: “My son, I am afraid that you are not only blind, but that you have lost your sense of smell.
239.The Miser and His Gold
ONCE upon a time there was a Miser who used to hide his gold at the foot of a tree in his garden; but every week he used to go and dig it up and gloat over his gains. A robber, who had noticed this, went and dug up the gold and decamped with it. When the Miser next came to gloat over his treasures, he found nothing but the empty hole. He tore his hair, and raised such an outcry that all the neighbours came around him, and he told them how he used to come and visit his gold. “Did you ever take any of it out?” asked one of them.
“Nay,” said he, “I only came to look at it.”
“Then come again and look at the hole,” said a neighbour; “it will do you just as much good.”
“WEALTH UNUSED MIGHT AS WELL NOT EXIST.”
238.The Mischievous Dog
A DOG used to run up quietly to the heels of everyone he met, and to bite them without notice. His master suspended a bell about his neck so that the dog might give notice of his presence wherever he went. Thinking it a mark of distinction, the dog grew proud of his bell and went tinkling it all over the marketplace. One day an old hound said to him,”
“Why do you make such an exhibition of yourself? That bell that you carry is not, believe me, any order of merit, but on the contrary a mark of disgrace, a public notice to all men to avoid you as an ill-mannered dog.”
❖ Notoriety can be mistaken for fame.
237.The Milkmaid and Her Pail
PATTY the Milkmaid was going to market carrying her milk in a Pail on her head. As she went along she began calculating what she would do with the money she would get for the milk. “I’ll buy some fowls from Farmer Brown,” said she, “and they will lay eggs each morning, which I will sell to the parson’s wife. With the money that I get from the sale of these eggs I’ll buy myself a new dimity frock and a chip hat; and when I go to market, won’t all the young men come up and speak to me! Polly Shaw will be that jealous; but I don’t care. I shall just look at her and toss my head like this.” As she spoke she tossed her head back, the Pail fell off it, and all the milk was spilt. So she had to go home and tell her mother what had occurred. 1
“Ah, my child,” said the mother,
“DO NOT COUNT YOUR CHICKENS BEFORE THEY ARE HATCHED.”
