reat numbers; and at the same time, from other causes, the lions
had much diminished: they were fewer, smaller, and meaner-looking than
they had been; and except in their own opinion of themselves, and in
their appetites, which were more enormous than ever, there was nothing
of the old lion left in them.

One day a large ox was quietly grazing, when one of these lions came up,
and desired the ox to lie down, for he wanted to eat him. The ox raised
his head, and gravely protested; the lion growled; the ox was mild, yet
firm. The lion insisted upon his legal right, and they agreed to refer
the matter to Minos.

When they came into court, the lion accused the ox of having broken the
laws of the beasts. The lion was king, and the others were bound to
obey. Prescriptive usage was clearly on the lion's side. Minos called on
the ox for his defence.

The Ox said that, without consent of his own being asked, he had been
born into the meadow. He did not consider himself much of a beast, but,
such as he was, he was very happy, and gave Jupiter thanks. Now, if the
lion could show that the existence of lions was of more importance than
that of oxen in the eyes of Jupiter, he had nothing more to say; he was
ready to sacrifice himself. But this lion had already eaten a thousand
oxen. Lions' appetites were so insatiable that he was forced to ask
whether they were really worth what was done for them,--whether the life
of one lion was so noble that the lives of thousands of oxen were not
equal to it? He was ready to own that lions had always eaten oxen, but
lions when they first came to the meadow were a different sort of
creature, and they themselves, too (and the ox looked complacently at
himself), had improved since that time. Judging by appearances, though
they might be fallacious, he himself was quite as good a beast as the
lion. If the lions would lead lives more noble than oxen could live,
once more he would not complain. As it was, he submitted that the cost
was too great.

Then the Lion put on a grand face and tried to roar; but when he opened
his mouth he disclosed a jaw so drearily furnished that Minos laughed,
and told the ox it was his own fault if he let himself be eaten by such
a beast as that. If he persisted in declining, he did not think the lion
would force him.

II.--THE FARMER AND THE FOX.

A farmer, whose poultry-yard had suffered severely from the foxes,
succeeded at last in catching one in a trap. 'Ah, yo