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.”
[Illustration]
“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.