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us dainties that were set before them: the one loading his thigh at intervals with provisions for the hive against the distant winter, the other revelling in sweets, without regard to anything but his present gratification. At length, they found a wide-mouthed vial, that hung beneath the bough of a peach-tree, filled with honey ready tempered, and exposed to their taste in the most alluring manner. The thoughtless Epicure, spite of all his friend's remonstrances, plunged headlong into the vessel, resolving to indulge himself in all the pleasures of sensuality. The Philosopher, on the other hand, sipped a little with caution, but, being suspicious of danger, flew off to fruits and flowers; where, by the moderation of his meals, he improved his relish for the true enjoyment of them. In the evening, however, he called upon his friend, to inquire whether he would return to the hive, but found him surfeited in sweets, which he was as unable to leave as to enjoy. Clogged in his wings, enfeebled in his feet, and his whole frame totally enervated, he was but just able to bid his friend adieu, and to lament, with his latest breath, that though a taste of pleasure may quicken the relish of life, an unrestrained indulgence is inevitable destruction. MORAL. Moderation rewards and intemperance punishes itself. FABLE LXI. THE TURKEY AND THE ANT. A TURKEY, tired of common food, Forsook the barn, and sought the wood; Behind her ran her infant train, Collecting here and there a grain. "Draw near, my birds," the mother cries, "This hill delicious fare supplies; Behold the busy negro race, See millions blacken all the place. Fear not: like me, with freedom eat; An Ant is most delightful meat. How blessed, how envied were our life, Could we but 'scape the poulterer's knife! But man, cursed man, on Turkeys preys, And Christmas shortens all our days. Sometimes with oysters we combine; Sometimes assist the savoury chine: From the low peasant to the lord, The Turkey smokes on every board; Sure, men for gluttony are cursed, Of the seven deadly sins, the worst." An Ant, who climbed beyond her reach, Thus answered from the neighbouring beech: "Ere you remark another's sin, Bid thy own conscience look within; Control thy more voracious bill, Nor, for a breakfast, nations kill." MORAL. In oth
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