Fab. CXVII.
A Smith and his Dog.
A Blackſmith took Notice of a Cur he had, that would be perpetually Sleeping, ſo long as his Maſter was at his Hammer; but whenever he went to Dinner, the Dog would be ſure to make One. So he Ask'd the Dog the Reaſon on’t. What's the Meaning of it, ſays he, that ſo long as I'm at the Forge, you are ſtill taking your Nap; but ſo ſoon as my Chops begin to Walk, yours muſt be Walking too for Company? There’s a time to Sleep (ſays the Dog) and a Time to Wake; and Every thing is Well done that is done in Due Seaſon.
The Moral.
REFLEXION.
That which Men do by Reaſon, Beaſts do by Inftinct. There's No Living without Food and Reſt; and Nature appoints the Seaſon, both for the One, and for the Other. A Dog Wakes to his Dinner, as a Man that's to Travel next day, does for his Journy, and his Bus'neſs. He lyes down to Sleep with the Hour in's Head, and when the Time comes, he needs neither Clock nor Cock to call him. Cuſtom puts Nature into a Method of Expecting, and Attending all the Offices of Lite at ſuch and ſuch Certain Hours and Seaſons, as we are us'd to: And there needed no more then This, to make the Maſter’s Dining Time, the Dog's Waking Time.
Fab. CXVIII.
A Boaſting Mule.
THere was a Favourite-Mule, that was High Fed, and in the Pride of Fleſh and Mettle, would ſtill be Bragging of his Family, and his Anceſtors. My Father (ſays he) was a Coarſer, and though I ſay it that ſhould not ſay't, I my ſelf take after him. He had no ſooner ſpoke the Words, but he was put to the Tryal of his Heels, and did not only ſhew himſelf a Jade; but in the very Heat of his Oſtentation, his Father fell a Braying, which Minded him of his Original, and the Whole Field made Sport on't, when they found him to be the Son of an Aſſe.
The
