Cobwebs from an Empty Skull

A certain Persian nobleman obtained from a cow gipsy a small oyster.  Holding him up by the beard, he addressed him thus: 

“You must try to forgive me for what I am about to do; and you might as well set about it at once, for you haven’t much time.  I should never think of swallowing you if it were not so easy; but opportunity is the strongest of all temptations.  Besides, I am an orphan, and very hungry.”

“Very well,” replied the oyster; “it affords me genuine pleasure to comfort the parentless and the starving.  I have already done my best for our friend here, of whom you purchased me; but although she has an amiable and accommodating stomach, we couldn’t agree.  For this trifling incompatibility—­would you believe it?—­she was about to stew me!  Saviour, benefactor, proceed.”

“I think,” said the nobleman, rising and laying down the oyster, “I ought to know something more definite about your antecedents before succouring you.  If you couldn’t agree with your mistress, you are probably no better than you should be.”

People who begin doing something from a selfish motive frequently drop it when they learn that it is a real benevolence.