An honest, plain, sensible Country Mouse is said to have entertained at his hole one day a fine Mouse of the Town.  Having formerly been playfellows together, they were old acquaintances, which served as an apology for the visit.  However, as master of the house, he thought himself obliged to do the honors 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 himself, lest the stranger should not have enough; but that he might seem to bear the other company, sat and nibbled a piece of a 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 not you prefer the conversation of the world to the chirping of birds, and the splendor 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 therefore have 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 such like arguments prevailed, and his Country Acquaintance was resolved to go to town that night.  So they both 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, and several tit-bits, which some of the servants had purloined, were hid under the seat of a 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 new turn of his affairs; when on a sudden, a noise of somebody opening 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 you do with it:  give me my poor, quiet hole again, with my homely but comfortable gray pease.”

THE DOG AND THE WOLF