Cobwebs from an Empty Skull. Ambrose Bierce
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were merely cold victuals from my table; I had just gathered them fresh, and was intending to have them dressed for my dinner; but I am always hospitable to the deities, and now I suppose I shall have to go without."
"On the contrary, my pious youth," returned the ostrich, "you shall go within."
And the man followed the stones.
The falsehoods of the wicked never amount to much.
XVI.
Two thieves went into a farmer's granary and stole a sack of kitchen vegetables; and, one of them slinging it across his shoulders, they began to run away. In a moment all the domestic animals and barn-yard fowls about the place were at their heels, in high clamour, which threatened to bring the farmer down upon them with his dogs.
"You have no idea how the weight of this sack assists me in escaping, by increasing my momentum," said the one who carried the plunder; "suppose you take it."
"Ah!" returned the other, who had been zealously pointing out the way to safety, and keeping foremost therein, "it is interesting to find how a common danger makes people confiding. You have a thousand times said I could not be trusted with valuable booty. It is an humiliating confession, but I am myself convinced that if I should assume that sack, and the impetus it confers, you could not depend upon your dividend."
"A common danger," was the reply, "seems to stimulate conviction, as well as confidence."
"Very likely," assented the other, drily; "I am quite too busy to enter into these subtleties. You will find the subject very ably treated in the Zend-Avesta."
But the bastinado taught them more in a minute than they would have gleaned from that excellent work in a fortnight.
If they could only have had the privilege of reading this fable, it would have taught them more than either.
XVII.
While a man was trying with all his might to cross a fence, a bull ran to his assistance, and taking him upon his horns, tossed him over. Seeing the man walking away without making any remark, the bull said:
"You are quite welcome, I am sure. I did no more than my duty."
"I take a different view of it, very naturally," replied the man, "and you may keep your polite acknowledgments of my gratitude until you receive it. I did not require your services."
"You don't mean to say," answered the bull, "that you did not wish to cross that fence!"
"I mean to say," was the rejoinder, "that I wished to cross it by my method, solely to avoid crossing it by yours."
Fabula docet that while the end is everything, the means is something.
XVIII.
An hippopotamus meeting an open alligator, said to him:
"My forked friend, you may as well collapse. You are not sufficiently comprehensive to embrace me. I am myself no tyro at smiling, when in the humour."
"I really had no expectation of taking you in," replied the other. "I have a habit of extending my hospitality impartially to all, and about seven feet wide."
"You remind me," said the hippopotamus, "of a certain zebra who was not vicious at all; he merely kicked the breath out of everything that passed behind him, but did not induce things to pass behind him."
"It is quite immaterial what I remind you of," was the reply.
The lesson conveyed by this fable is a very beautiful one.
XIX.
A man was plucking a living goose, when his victim addressed him thus:
"Suppose you were a goose; do you think you would relish this sort of thing?"
"Well, suppose I were," answered the man; "do you think you would like to pluck me?"
"Indeed I would!" was the emphatic, natural, but injudicious reply.
"Just so," concluded her tormentor; "that's the way I feel about the matter."
XX.
A traveller perishing of thirst in a desert, debated with his camel whether they should continue their journey, or turn back to an oasis they had passed some days before. The traveller favoured the latter plan.
"I am decidedly opposed to any such waste of time," said the animal; "I don't care for oases myself."
"I should not care for them either," retorted the man, with some temper, "if, like you, I carried a number of assorted water-tanks inside. But as you will not submit to go back, and I shall not consent to go forward, we can only remain where we are."
"But," objected the camel, "that will be certain death to you!"
"Not quite," was the quiet answer, "it involves only the loss of my camel."
So saying, he assassinated the beast, and appropriated his liquid store.
A compromise is not always a settlement satisfactory to both parties.
XXI.
A sheep, making a long journey, found the heat of his fleece very uncomfortable, and seeing a flock of other sheep in a fold, evidently awaiting for some one, leaped over and joined them, in the hope of being shorn. Perceiving the shepherd approaching, and the other sheep huddling into a remote corner of the fold, he shouldered his way forward, and going up to the shepherd, said:
"Did you ever see such a lot of fools? It's lucky I came along to set them an example of docility. Seeing me operated upon, they 'll be glad to offer themselves."
"Perhaps so," replied the shepherd, laying hold of the animal's horns; "but I never kill more than one sheep at a time. Mutton won't keep in hot weather."
The chops tasted excellently well with tomato sauce.
The moral of this fable isn't what you think it is. It is this: The chops of another man's mutton are always nice eating.
XXII.
Two travellers between Teheran and Bagdad met half-way up the vertical face of a rock, on a path only a cubit in width. As both were in a hurry, and etiquette would allow neither to set his foot upon the other even if dignity had permitted prostration, they maintained for some time a stationary condition. After some reflection, each decided to jump round the other; but as etiquette did not warrant conversation with a stranger,