One lovely afternoon, a Fox was roaming about the woods to see what he could get for his dinner. Suddenly, he stopped and sniffed the air. “Ah!” said he, “that smell means Partridge.”
The Fox followed his nose to a thick briar-bush. He jumped in among the branches, and soon came out with a fine fat Partridge in his mouth. Half way to his home he met his friend the Gander.
“What have you there?” cried the Gander.
“What have you there?” cried the Gander. But the Fox pretended not to hear. His mouth was full, and he wanted to finish his meal before he talked about it.
Upon this, the Gander marched with long strides beside the Fox till they came to the edge of a deep stream. There the Gander stopped and said, “There is something wrong about your story, Master Fox. How could you find your way over a deep stream like this with a Partridge in your mouth?”
“Hah!” said the Fox, after throwing the Partridge over to the other side, “I forgot that I had this with me.”
“That’s TRUE, at any rate,” said the Gander.
As soon as the Fox had crossed the stream and looked about for his dinner, there came by a Crow, and says she: “You have got something for me, I hope. I can smell it a long way off.”
The Fox was hungry, and wanted to eat his Partridge in peace. So he only took off his cap and bowed to the lady, but she followed him on and said, “You cannot deny that you are hiding something in your fur; let me see it, please.”
“I am quite sure,” replied the Fox, “that you, Mrs. Crow, for all the curls of your dress, must be a very old friend of mine, for you know how to pick out my friends. This will please you; I have just received a small parcel from an old schoolfellow of mine which, no doubt, will prove a great surprise to you.”
“Really! what is it?” asked the Crow.
“Some balm for sore eyes, my dear friend, which I hear takes all the blue devils out of a person’s eyes,” was the reply.
On this the Crow retired, but in a minute or two came hopping back and asked, “Is this true that you told me just now about the balm for sore eyes?”
“I TOO am trying to cure a complaint in my eyes,” said the Fox, “and so I believed it. But why do you come back yourself? Didn’t you send your child to school with these messages?”
“Don’t let him know me,” said the Crow, “and stop his ears till I am gone.”
The Fox told her it was quite too late, an owl had already whispered something to him, and the best news would only make his mother worse. But as Fox and Gander parted, the Fox told him all that had passed, and gave him the Parcels of Sore Eyes for Nothing.
It was not long before the Fox, who had made a detour, began to follow the road again, but that bright lesson rang in his ears, “He that is warned of danger must see to it.” His inner mind recalled verses he had read of “Diligence that giveth riches,” and “Of evil tidings he shall not be afraid that is wise-hearted.” But the Fox repeated them so loud that the Crow overheard him, and added–
“The exhortations, Good Mr. Fox, Send not away with scorns in mocking crux.”
He now followed the path so cautiously that he met no further barrenness; but he seemed all help, and a mighty hindrance. It was quite safe and possible for him all of a sudden to see a well-deserved death by a gate opening to trap him in. But Master Francis took much pains that, knowing less to avoid than preserve himself from risk, his mind should never slip all necessary cautions.
And it is true: “He that is warned of danger must see to it.”