A dog of a taciturn disposition said to his Tail:
“Whenever I am angry, you rise
and bristle; when I am pleased, you wag; when I am
alarmed, you tuck yourself in out of danger.
You are too mercurial — you disclose all my
emotions. My notion is that tails are given
to conceal thought. It is my dearest ambition
to be as impassive as the Sphinx.”
“My friend, you must recognise
the laws and limitations of your being,” replied
the Tail, with flexions appropriate to the sentiments
uttered, “and try to be great some other way.
The Sphinx has one hundred and fifty qualifications
for impassiveness which you lack.”
“What are they?” the Dog asked.
“One hundred and forty-nine tons of sand on
her tail.”
“And — ?”
“A stone tail.”
|