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A Nightingale was sitting on a bough of an oak and singing, as

her custom was. A hungry Hawk presently spied her, and darting to

the spot seized her in his talons. He was just about to tear her

in pieces when she begged him to spare her life: "I'm not big

enough," she pleaded, "to make you a good meal: you ought to seek

your prey among the bigger birds." The Hawk eyed her with some

contempt. "You must think me very simple," said he, "if you

suppose I am going to give up a certain prize on the chance of a

better of which I see at present no signs."

THE ROSE AND THE AMARANTH