been furious enough to tear an oak up by the roots? “Why,” says the reed, “I secure myself by putting on a behaviour quite contrary to what you do; instead of being stubborn and stiff, and confiding in my strength, I yield and bend to the blast, and let it go over me, knowing how vain and fruitless it would be to resist." IV.-The Wind and the Sun. A dispute once arose between the north wind and the sun about the superiority of their power, and they agreed to try their strength upon a traveller by endeavouring who should be able to get his cloak off first. The north wind began, and blew a very cold blast, accompanied by a very sharp driving shower; but this, and whatever else he could do, instead of making the man quit his cloak, obliged him to gird it about his body as close as possible. Next came the sun, who, breaking out from a thick watery cloud, drove away the cold vapours from the sky, and darted his sultry beams upon the head of the poor weather-beaten traveller. The man growing faint with the heat, and unable to endure it any longer, first throws off his heavy cloak, and then flees for protection to the shade of a neighbouring grove. V.-The Wolf and the Lamb. One hot sultry day, a wolf and a lamb happened to come just at the same time to quench their thirst in the stream of a clear silver brook that ran tumbling down the side of a rocky mountain. The wolf stood upon the higher ground, and the lamb at some distance from him down the current. However, the wolf having a mind to pick a quarrel with him, asked him what he meant by disturbing the water, and making it so muddy that he could not drink? and at the same time demanded satisfaction. The lamb, frightened at this threatening charge, told him, in a tone as mild as possible, that with humble submission he could not conceive how that could be, since the water that he drank ran down from the wolf to him, and therefore could not be dis 99 66 turbed so far up the stream. "Be that as it may," replies the wolf, "you are a rascal; and I have been told that you treated me with ill language behind my back about half a year ago." Upon my word," says the lamb, "the time you mention was before I was born." The wolf finding it to no purpose to argue any longer against the truth, fell into a great passion, snarling and foaming at the mouth, as if he had been mad; and drawing nearer to the lamb, "Sirrah," says he, "if it was not you, it was your father, and that's all one." So he seized the poor innocent helpless thing, tore it to pieces, and made a meal of it. VI.-The Fox without a Tail. A fox being caught by the tail in a steel trap, was glad to compound for his escape with the loss of it; but upon coming abroad into the world, he began to be so sensible of the disgrace such a defect would bring upon him, that he almost wished he had died rather than left it behind him. However, to make the best of a bad matter, he formed a project in his head, to call an assembly of the rest of the foxes, and propose it for their imitation, as a fashion which would be very agreeable and becoming. He did so; and made a long harangue upon the unprofitableness of tails in general, and endeavoured chiefly to show the awkwardness and inconvenience of a fox's tail in particular; adding, that it would be both more graceful and more expeditious to be altogether without them; and that, for his part, what he had only imagined and conjectured before, he now found by experience; for that he never enjoyed himself so well, and found himself so easy, as he had done since he cut off his tail. He said no more, but looked about him with a brisk air to see what proselytes he had gained, when a sly old thief in the company, who understood trap, answered him with a leer, "I believe you may have found a conveniency in parting with your tail; and when we are in the same circumstances, perhaps we may do so too." VII.-The Shepherd turned Merchant. A shepherd, that kept his sheep near the sea, one clear summer's day drove them close to the shore, and sat down upon a piece of rock to enjoy the cool breeze that came from the water. The green element appeared calm and smooth; and Thetis, with her train of smiling beautiful nymphs, seemed to dance upon the floating surface of the deep. The shepherd's heart thrilled with secret pleasure, and he began to wish for the life of a merchant. "Oh how happy,” says he, "should I be to plough this liquid plain in a pretty, tight vessel of my own! And to visit the remote parts of the world, instead of sitting idle here, looking upon a parcel of senseless sheep while they are grazing! Then what ample returns I should make in the way of traffic! And what a short and certain path would this be to riches and honour!" In short, this thought was improved into a resolution; away he posted with all expedition, and sold his flock and all that he had. He then bought a bark and fitted it out for a voyage: he loaded it with a cargo of dates, and set sail for a mart that was held upon the coast of Asia, five hundred leagues off. He had not been long at sea before the wind began to blow tempestuously, and the waves to rage and swell: the violence of the weather increased upon him, his ship was in danger of sinking, and he was obliged to lighten her, by throwing all his dates overboard: after this his vessel was driven upon a rock near the shore, and split in pieces, he himself hardly escaping with his life. Poor and destitute of subsistence, he applied to the man who had bought his flock, and was admitted to tend it as an hireling. He sat in the same place as before, and the ocean again looked calm and smooth. "Ah!" says he, "deceitful, tempting element, in vain you try to engage me a second time; my misfortunes have left me too poor to be again deluded the same way; and experience has made me so wise as to resolve, whatever my condition may be, never to trust to thy faithless bosom more." VIII.-The Country Mouse and the City Mouse. An honest country mouse is said to have once entertained a fine mouse of the town. Their having formerly been playfellows together served as an apology for the visit. However, as master of the house the rustic thought himself obliged to do the honours of it in all respects, and to make as great a stranger of his guest as he possibly could. In order to do this, he set before him a reserve of delicate gray pease and bacon, a dish of fine oatmeal, some parings of new cheese, and, to crown all with a dessert, a remnant of a charming mellow apple. In good manners, he forbore to eat any of the delicacies himself, lest the stranger should not have enough; but that he might bear the other company, he sat and nibbled a piece of wheaten straw very busily. "At last," says the spark of the town, "Old Crony, give me leave to be a little free with you; how can you bear to live in this nasty, dirty, melancholy hole here, with nothing but woods, and meadows, and mountains, and rivulets about you? Do you not prefer the conversation of the world to the chirping of birds, and the splendour of a court to the rude aspect of an uncultivated desert? Come, take my word for it, you will find it a change for the better. Never stand considering, but away this moment. Remember we are not immortal, and that we have therefore no time to lose. Make sure of to-day and spend it as agreeably as you can; you know not what may happen to-morrow." In short, these and the like arguments prevailed, and his country acquaintance resolved to go to town that night. So they set out upon their journey together, proposing to sneak in after the close of the evening. They did so, and about midnight made their entry into a certain great house, where there had been an extraordinary entertainment the day before-several titbits which some of the servants had purloined being hid under the seat of the window. The country guest was immediately placed in the midst of a rich Persian carpet and now it was the courtier's turn to entertain, : who indeed acquitted himself in that capacity with the utmost readiness and address, changing the courses as elegantly, and tasting everything first as judiciously, as any clerk of the kitchen. The other sat and enjoyed himself like a delighted epicure, tickled to the last degree with this turn of his affairs; when on a sudden, a noise caused by the opening of the door made them start from their seats and scuttle in confusion about the dining-room. Our country friend in particular was ready to die with fear at the barking of a huge mastiff or two, which opened their throats just about the same time, and made the whole house echo. At last recovering himself: "Well," says he, "if this be your town life, much good may it do you; give me my poor quiet hole again, with my homely but comfortable gray pease." SECTION II. TRANSLATIONS FROM THE LATIN. Write a Translation in Verse of each of the following Passages. MODELS. I. OVID. MET. LIB. I. FAB. I. Chaos et Mundi Creatio. Ante, mare et tellus et, quod tegit omnia, cœlum, Quem dixêre Chaos; rudis indigestaque moles: |