A Calf, full of play and wantonness, seeing an Ox at the plough, could not forbear insulting him. “What a sorry poor drudge are you,” said he, “to bear that heavy yoke upon your neck, and with a plough at your tail all day, to go turning up the ground for a master. You are a wretched poor slave, and know no better, or you would not do it. See what a happy life I lead; I go just where I please — sometimes in the cool shade, sometimes in the warm sunshine; and whenever I like I drink at the clear and running brook.” The Ox, not at all moved by this address, went on quietly and calmly with his work, and in the evening, when unyoked and going to take his rest, he saw the Calf hung with garlands of flowers, being led off for sacrifice by the priests. He pitied him, but could not help saying, as he passed, “Now, friend, whose condition is the better, vours or mine?”
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