Classic Audiobook Collection - Fables for the Frivolous by Guy Wetmore Carryl ~ Full Audiobook [poetry]

Episode Date: January 18, 2023

Fables for the Frivolous by Guy Wetmore Carryl audiobook. Genre: poetry In Fables for the Frivolous, Guy Wetmore Carryl turns the familiar shape of the classic fable inside out, delivering a brisk collection of witty verse tales that end not with solemn instruction, but with sly punchlines and upside-down morals. Each short poem introduces a small cast of recognizable characters - vain social climbers, stubborn fools, self-satisfied experts, and a menagerie of animals who behave with all the charming pettiness of polite society. With a narrator who is equal parts storyteller and conspirator, Carryl sketches quick scenes of temptation, pride, miscommunication, and misplaced certainty, then snaps them shut with a concluding couplet that skewers the lesson you thought you were about to learn. The central conflict in these miniatures is almost always the same: a character's tidy worldview colliding with reality, and losing. Written with nimble rhyme and a satirist's eye for human habits, the book invites listeners to laugh at pretension, question easy wisdom, and enjoy language that lands like a well-timed wink. Light, sharp, and endlessly quotable, these fables are built for replay. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 1 (00:02:57) Chapter 2 (00:05:38) Chapter 3 (00:08:20) Chapter 4 (00:10:23) Chapter 5 (00:12:45) Chapter 6 (00:15:05) Chapter 7 (00:17:03) Chapter 8 (00:19:12) Chapter 9 (00:21:58) Chapter 10 (00:23:51) Chapter 11 (00:26:04) Chapter 12 (00:28:30) Chapter 13 (00:30:35) Chapter 14 (00:33:06) Chapter 15 (00:35:38) Chapter 16 (00:37:57) Chapter 17 (00:40:16) Chapter 18 (00:42:31) Chapter 19 (00:44:29) Chapter 20 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

fables for the frivolous by guy wetmore carol the ambitious fox and the unapproachable grapes a farmer built around his crop a wall and crowned his labors by placing glass upon the top to lacerate his neighbors provided they at any time should feel disposed the wall to climb he also drove some iron pegs securely in the coping to tear the bare defenseless legs of brats who upward groping might steal despite the risk of fall the grapes that grew upon the wall one day a fox on thieving bent a crafty and an old one most shrewdly tracked the pungent scent that eloquently told one that grapes were ripe and grapes were good and likewise in the neighborhood he threw some stones of divers shapes the luscious fruit to jar off it made him ill to see the grapes so near and yet so far off his throes were strong his aim was fine but never touched me said the vine the former shouted drat the boys and mounted on a ladder he sought the cause of all the noise no former could be matter which was not hard to understand because the glass had cut his hand his passion he could not restrain but shouted out you're thievish the fox replied with fine disdain come country don't be peevish now country is an epitet one can't forgive nor yet forget. The farmer rudely answered back with compliments unvarnished,

and downward hurled the bric-a-brac with which the wall was garnished, in view of which demeanor strange the fox retreated out of range. I will not try the grapes today, he said. My appetite is fastidious, and anyway I fear appendicitis. The fox was one of the elite, who call it sight instead of seat. The moral is that if your host throws glass around his entry, you know it isn't done by most who claim to be the gentry. While if he hits you in the head, you may be sure he's underbred. End of the ambitious fox and the unapproachable grapes.

The persevering tortoise and the pretentious hair. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Once a turtle finding plenty in seclusion to bewitch, lived a dochi-for-de-ante kind of life within a ditch. Rivers had no charm for him, as he told his wife and daughter, Though my friends are in the swim, mud is thicker far than water. One fine day, as was his habit, he was dozing in the sun. when a young and flippant rabbit happened by the ditch to run. "'Come race with me!' he exclaimed.

"'Fat inhabitant of puddles? Sluggard! You should be ashamed! Such a life the brain befuddles!' This, of course, was banter merely, but it stirred the torpid blood of the turtle, and severely forth he issued from the mud. "'Done!' he cried. The race began. But the hair resumed his banter, seeing how his rival ran in a most unlovely canter. Shouting,

"'Terrapin, you're best did. You'd be wiser, dear old chap, if you sat down and rested when you reach the second lap. Quote the turtle, I refuse. As for you with all your talking, Sit on any lap you choose, I shall simply go on walking. Now this sporting proposition was upon its face absurd, yet the hare with expedition took the tortoise at his word, ran until the final lap, then, supposing he'd outclassed him, laid him down and took a nap, and the patient turtle passed him. Plotting on he shortly made the line that marked the victor's goal, paused and found he'd won and laid the flatterer, unction to his soul. Then, in fashion grandiose, like an after-dinner speaker, touched his

flipper to his nose, and remarked, ha-ham, eureka! And the moral, lest you miss one, is, there's often time to spare, and that races are, like this one, one, not always by a hair. End of the Persefiring Tortoise and the pretentious hair. The patrician peacocks and the overweening J. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Once a flock of stately peacocks promenaded on a green, there were 22 or three cocks, each as proud as 17, and a glance, however hasty, showed their plumage to be tasty.

wheresoever one was placed he was a credit to the scene. Now their owner had a daughter, who, when people came to call, used to say, you'll really oughter see them peacocks on the mall. Now this wasn't to her credit, and her callers came to dread it, for the way the lady said it wasn't Ré-Sher-She at all. But a Jay that overheard it from his perch upon a fur, didn't take in how absurd it was to everyone but her. When they responded,

You don't tell us, and to see the birds seemed zealous, he became extremely jealous, wishing too to make a stir. As the peacocks fed together, he would join them at their lunch, culling here and there a feather, till he gathered quite a bunch. Then this bird of ways perfidious stuck them on him most fastidious, till he looked uncommon hideous, like a Judy or a punch.

But the peacocks, when they saw him, one and all began to haul, and to harry and to claw him, till the creature couldn't crawl. While their owner's vulgar daughter, when her startled collars sought her, and to see the struggle brought her, only said, they're on them all. It was really quite revolting, when the tumult died away. One would think he had been molting, so dishevelled was the J. He was more than merely slighted. He was more than disunited.

He'd been simply dynamited, in the fervor of the fray. And the moral of the verses is that short men can't be tall, nothing sillier or worse is than a J upon a mall. and the J. Opinionative, who, because he's imitative, thinks he's highly decorative, is the biggest J of all. End of the patrician peacocks and the overweening J. The arrogant frog and the superior bull. This Libra Fox recording is in the public domain.

Once on a time and in place conducive jay, to malaria, there lived a member of the race of Rana Temporaria. Or more concisely still, a frog inhabited a certain bog. A bowl of Brob Dignagian sighs, too proud for condescension. One morning chanced to cast his eyes upon the frog I mention, and being to the manner born, surveyed him with a lofty scorn. Perceiving this the Bractean's frame with a with anger was inflated, till growing larger he became egregiously elated, for inspiration's

sudden spell had pointed out a way to swell. Ha ha! he proudly cried, a fig, for this your mammoth torso. Just watch me while I grow as big as you are even more so. To which magniloquential gush, his bullship simply answered, Tosh! alas the frog's success was slight which really was a wonder in view of how with main and might he strove to grow rotunder and standing patiently the while the bull displayed a quiet smile but ha the frog tried once too oft and doing so he busted whereat the bull discreetly coughed and moved away disgusted as well he might considering the wretched haste that marked the thing. The moral.

Everyone knows how ill a wind it is that blows. End of. The arrogant frog and the superior bull. The domineering eagle and the inventive rattling. This Libre-Vox recording is in the public domain. Or a small suburban borough, once an eagle used to fly, making observations through the thorough from his station in the sky, and presenting the appearance of an animated V, like the gulls that lend coherence upon paintings of the sea. Looking downward at a church in this attractive

little shire, he beheld a smallish urchin, shooting arrows at the spire. In a spirit of derision look alive, the eagle said, and with infinite precision dropped the feather on his head. head. Then the boy, annoyed distinctly, by the freedom of the bird, voiced his anger quite succinctly in a single scathing word. And he sat him on a barrow, and he fashioned of this same eagle's feather such an arrow, as was worthy of the name. Then he tried his bow, and stringing, it with caution and with care, sent that arrow singing,

winging towards the eagle in the air. Straight it went without an error, and the target bathed in blood, lurched and lunged and fell to Terra firma landing with a thud. Bird of freedom, quote the urchin, with an unrelenting frown, you shall decorate a perch in the menagerie in town. But of feathers, quite a cluster,

I shall first remove for maw, Thanks to you, she'll have a duster for her precious objects dart. And the moral is that pride is the precursor of a fall. Those beneath you two deride is not expedient at all. Howsoever me can humble your inferiors may be, They perchance may make you tumble. So respect them. Q.E.D.

End of. The domineering eagle and the inventive Bratley. The iconoclastic rustic and the apropos acorn. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Reposing neath some spreading trees a populistic bumpkin, amused himself by offering these reflections on a pumpkin. I would not, if the choice were mine, grow things like that upon a vine, for how imposing it would be if pumpkins grew upon a tree.

tree. Like other populists, you'll note, a views enthusiastic, he'd learn by heart and said by wrote a creed iconoclastic. And in his dim, uncertain sight, whatever wasn't must be right, from which it follows he had strong convictions that what was was wrong. As thus he sat beneath an oak, an acorn fell abruptly, and smote his nose whereat he spoke of acorns most corruptly. Great Scott, he cried,

The Dickens, too, and other authors whom he knew, and having duly mentioned those, he expeditiously arose. Then, though with pain he nearly swooned, he bathed his organ nasal, with an orika, ensued the wound with extract of which hazel.

And surely we may well excuse the victim if he changed his views, if pumpkins fell from trees like that, he murmured, where would I be at? Of course it's wholly clear to you that when these words he uttered, he proved conclusively he knew which side his bread was buttered. And if this point you may have missed, you learn to love this populist,

the only one of all his kind was sense enough to change his mind. The moral. In the early spring, Spraying a pumpkin tree would be a thing, most gratifying to us all. But how about the early fall? End of. The iconoclastic rustic and the apropos acorn. The unusual goose and the imbecilic woodcutter.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. A woodcutter bought him a gander, or at least that was what he supposed, as a matter of fact twas a slander as a later occurrence disclosed for they locked the bird up in the garret to fatten while it grew old and it lay there a twenty-two carrot fine egg of the purest of gold there was much unaffected rejoicing in the home of the wood-cutter then and his wife her exuberance voicing proclaimed him most lucky of men tis an omen of fortune this golden egg she said, and of practical use. For this fowl doesn't lay any old egg, she's a highly superior goose. Twas this creature's habitual custom, this laying of superfine eggs, then they made it their practice to dust them and pack them by dozens in kegs. But the woodcutter's mind being

vapid, and his foolishness more than profuse. In order to get them more rapid he slaughtered the innocent goose. He made her a gruel of acid, which she very obligingly ate, and at once, with a touchingly placid demeanor, succumbed to her fate. With affection that passed the platonic, they buried her under the moss, and her epitat wasn't ironic, in stating, We mourn for our loss. And the moral? It isn't much use, as the woodcutter found to be true, to lay for an innocent goose just because she is laying for you. End of The Unusual Goose and the Imbasilic Woodcutter. The rude rat and the unostentatious oyster.

This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Upon the shore a mile or more from traffic and confusion, an oyster dwelt because he felt a low. longing for seclusion." Said he, I love the stillness of this spot. It's like a cloister. These words I quote, because you note they rhyme so well with oyster. A prying rat believing that she needed change of diet.

In search of such disturbed this much to be desired quiet. To say the least this tactless beast was apt to rudely roister. She tapped his shell and called him, well, a name that hurt the oyster. I see, she cried, you're open wide and searching for a reason. September's here, and so it's clear, that oysters are in season. She smiled a smile that showed the style of bandage rejoister, advanced a pace with easy grace, and sniffed the silent oyster. The latter's pride was sorely tried.

He thought of what he could say, reflected. what the common lot of vulgar mollusks would say, then caught his breath, grew pale as death, and as his brow turned moister, began to close and nipped her nose, superb dramatic oyster. We note with joy that oi-polloy, whom maidens bite the thumb at, are apt to try some weak reply to things they should be dumb at. The moral, then, for crafty men, is, when a maid has voiced her, contemptuous heart, Don't think you're smart, but shut up, like the oyster. End of the rude rat and the unostentatious oyster. The urban rat and the suburbant rat.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. A metropolitan rat invited his country cousin in town to dine. This country cousin replied, Delighted! And signed himself sincerely thine. The town rat treated the country cousin to half a dozen kinds of wine. He served him terrapin, kidneys deviled, and roasted partridge and candied fruit, in little neck clams at first they reveled, and then in pommerie, sack and brute. The country cousin exclaimed,

such feeding proclaims your breeding beyond dispute. But just as another bottle broaching, they came to chicken en casserole. A ravenous cat was heard approaching, and, passing his guest a finger-bowl, the town rat murmured, the feast is ended, and then descended the nearest hole. His cousin followed him, Helter Skelter, and, pausing beneath the pantry floor, he glanced around at their dusty shelter, and muttered, "'This is a beastly boar! My place says an epicure, resigning, I'll try this dining in town no more.' "'You must dine some night at my rustic cottage. I'll warn you now that it's simple fare,

a radish or two, a bowl of pottage, and the wine that's known as a rustic cottage. And the wine that's known as Ordinare. But for holes I haven't to make a beeline. No prowling feline molests me there. You smile at the lot of a mere commuter. You think that my life is hard, mayhap. But I'm sure, then you I am far acuter. I ain't afraid of no cat nor trap.

The city rat could but meekly stammer. Don't use such grammar, my worthy chap?" He dined next night, with his poor relation. and caught dyspepsia and lost his train he waited an hour in the lonely station and said some things that were quite profane i'll never he cried in tones complaining try entertaining that rat again it's easy to make a memorandum about the moral these verses teach de gustibus known as disputandum the meaning of which etruscan speech is whatsoever your hunger quelling pray keep your dwelling pray keep your dwelling in easy reach. End of the urban rat and the suburban rat. The impecunious cricket and the frugal ant.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. There was an ant, a spinster ant, whose virtues were so many that she became intolerant of those who hadn't any. She had a small and frugal mind, and lived a life ascetic, nor, or, and she became intolerant of those. was her temperament the kind that's known as sympathetic. I skipped details. Suffice to say that knocking at her wicket, their chance to come one autumn day a common garden cricket. So ragged, poor, and needy that, without elucidation, one saw the symptoms of a bat of several months' duration. He paused beside her doorstep, and, with one pathetic gesture, he called attention

with his hand, to both his shoes and vesture. I joined, said he, an opera-trop. They suddenly disbanded and left me on the hostile stoop, lugubriously stranded. I therefore lay aside my pride, and frankly ask for clothing. Be gone, the frugal aunt replied. I look on you with loathing. Your muddy shoes have spoiled the lawn. Your hens have soiled a fence, too.

If you need money, go and pawn your watch, if you have sense to. The moral is, albeit lots of people follow Dr. Watts, the sluggard, when his means are a scant, should seek an uncle, not an aunt. End of. The impecunious cricket and the frugal aunt. The pampered lap-dog and the misguided ass. This Libra Box recording is in the public domain. A woolly little terrier pup gave vent to Yelp's distressing,

whereat his mistress took him up and soothed him with caressing, and yet he was not in the least what one would call a handsome beast. He might have been a Javanese, he might have been a Jap-dog, and also neither one of these but just a common lap-dog, the kind that people send, you know, done up in cotton, to the show. At all events, whate'er his race, the pretty girl who owned him, caressed his unattractive face and petted and culloned him, while watching her with mournful eye, a patient ass stood silent by.

If thus he mused the feminine and fascinating gender, is led to love I too can win, her protestations, tender. And then the poor misguided chap sat down upon the lady's lap. Then as her head with terror swam, this method seems to suit you, observed the ass, so here I am. Said she, Get up, you brute you, and promptly screamed aloud for aid. No ass was ever more dismayed. They took the ass into the yard, and there with whip and truncheon. They beat him, and they beat him hard, from breakfast-time till luncheon. He only gave a tearful gulp, though almost pounded to a pope.

The moral is, or seems at least, to be in etiquette you, will find that while enough a feast, a surplus will upset you. Tojures, to-jures la politess, if, the quantity. be not excessive. End of the pampered lap-dog and the misguided ass. The vain-glorious oak and the modest bull-rush. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. A bull-rush stood on a river's rim, and an oak that grew nearby,

looked down with cold hauteur on him and addressed him this way. Hi! The rush was a proud patrician. and he retorted, don't you know what the various boar should understand that high is low?" The cutting rebuke the oak ignored. He returned, my slender friend, I will frankly state that I'm somewhat bored with the way you bow and bend. But you quite forget, the rush replied. It's an art these bows to do.

and art I wouldn't attempt toide such boughs as you. Of course, said the oak in my sapling days, my habit it was to bow. But the wildest storm that the winds could raise would never disturb me now. I challenged the breeze to make me bend, and the blast to make me sway. The shrewd little bulrush answered, friend, don't get so gay. And the words had barely left his eyes. mouth, when he saw the oak turn pale, for racing along southeast by south came ripping a raging gale, and the rush bent low as the storm went past, but stiffly stood the oak, though not

for long, for he found the blast, no idle joke. Imagine the lightning's gleaming bars. Imagine the thunders roar, for that is exactly what eight stars are set in a row here. far. The oak lay prone when the storm was done, while the rush still quite erect, remarked aside, what under the sun could one expect? And the moral, I'd have you understand, would have made La Fontaine blush, for it's this some storms come early end, avoid the rush.

End of the vain-glorious oak and the modest bull-rush. The Inhuman Wolf and the Lamb's Sons Gene This Libre Vox recording is in the public domain. A gaunt and relentless wolf possessed of a quite insatiable thirst, once paused at a stream to drink and rest and found that, bound on a similar quest, a lamb had arrived there first. The lamb was a lamb of a garrulous mind, and frivolity most extreme. In the fashion common to all his kind, he cantered in front and galloped

behind, and troubled the limpid stream. "'My friend,' said the wolf with a winsome air, "'your capers I can't admire.' "'Go, too,' quote the lamb, though he said not where. He showed what he meant by his brazen stare and the way that he gambled higher. "'My capers,' he cried, "'are the kind that are in invariably served with lamb. Remember, this is a public bar, and I'll do as I please. If your drink I mar, I don't give a tinkers.' He paused and glanced at the rivulet, and that pause than speech was worse, for his roving eye a sawmill met, and near it the word which should be set at the end of the previous verse.

Said the wolf, "'You are tough and may bring remorse, but of such is the word. well rid i've swallowed your capers i've swallowed your sauce and it's plain to be seen that my only course is swallowing you he did the moral the wisest lambs they are who when there assailed by thirst keep well away from a public bar for of all black sheep or near or far the public bar lambs worst end of the inhuman wolf and the lamb Sons Jean, the sycophantic fox and the gullible raven. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. A raven sat upon a tree, and not a word he spoke for,

his beak contained a piece of brie, or maybe it was rogfort. We'll make it any kind you please, at all events it was a cheese. Beneath the trees on Briegeus Lim, a hungry fox. sat smiling. He saw the raven watching him, and spoke in words beguiling, "'Jammer,' said he, to bon plumage. The witch was simply persiflage. Two things there are, no doubt you know, to which a fox is used, a rooster that is bound to crow, a crow that's bound to roost, and whithsoever he espies he tells the most unblushing lies.

Sweet foul, he said, I understand. You're more than merely nattie. I hear you sing to beat the band. And Adelina Patti, pray render with your liquid tongue. A bit from Gautrodamorong. This subtle speech was aimed to please the crow, and it succeeded. He thought no bird in all the trees could sing as well as he did. In flattery completely doused, he did.

he gave the jewel-song from Faust. But, gravitation's law, of course, as Isaac Newton showed it, exerted on the cheese its force, and elsewhere soon bestowed it. In fact, there is no need to tell what happened when to earth it fell. I blush to add that when the bird took in the situation, he said one brief emphatic word unfit for publication. The fox was greatly startled, but he only sighed and answered, Tutt.

The moral is, a fox is bound to be a shameless sinner, and also, when the cheese comes round, you know it's after dinner. But what is only known to few, the fox is after dinner, too. End of the sycophantic fox and the gullible raven. The Microscopic Trout and the Machiavellian Fisherman. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. A fisher was casting his flies in a brook, according to laws of such sciences, with a patented reel and a patented hook,

and the 35th cast, which he vowed was the last. It was figured as close as a decimal, brought suddenly out of the water a trout of measurements infinitesimal. The fish had a way that would win him a place in the best and most polished society, and he looked at the fisherman full in the face with a visible air of anxiety. He murmured, alas, from his place in the grass, and then when he twisted and wriggled, he remarked in a pet that his heart was upset and digestion all higgily-piggily. I request, he observed, to be instantly flung once again in the pool I've been living in.

The fisherman said, You will tire out your tongue. Do you see any signs of my giving in? Put you back in the pool? Why, you fatuous fool? I've eaten much smaller and a thinner fish. You're not a salmon or a soul, but I think on the whole you're a fairly respectable dinnerfish. The fisherman's cook tried her hand on the trout, and with various herbs she embellished him. He was lovely to see, and there isn't a doubt, that the fisherman's family relished him. And to prove that they did, both his wife and his kid devoured the trout with much eagerness, avowing no dish could compare with that fish, notwithstanding his singular meagerness. And the moral you'll find is, although it is kind, to grant favors that people are wishing for,

still a dinner you'll lack if you chance to throw back in the pool little trout that you're fishing for. If they're pleading you spurn, you will certainly learn that herbs will deliciously vary them. It is needless to state that a trout on a plate beats several in the aquarium. End of the Microscopic Trout and the Machiavellian Fisherman, the confiding peasant, and the melodroit bear. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. A peasant had a docile bear, a bear of manners pleasant, and all the love she had to spare she lavished on the peasant.

She proved her deep affection plainly, the method was a bit ungainly. The peasant had to dig and delve, and as his class are apt to, when all the whistles blew at twelve, he ate his lunch and napped too. The bear a careful outlook-keeping, the while her master lay asleep. As thus the peasant slept one day, the weather became torrid. A gnat beheld him where he lay and lit upon his forehead. and thence, like all such winged creatures, proceeded over all his features.

The watchful bear, perceiving that the gnat lit on her master, resolved to light upon the gnat and plunge him in disaster. She saw no sense in being lenient, when stones lay round her most convenient. And so a weighty rock she aimed with much enthusiasm, Oh, Lord, this startled Nat exclaimed, and promptly had a spasm. A natural proceeding this was, considering how close the miss was. Now, by his dumb companion's pluck, which caused the gnat to squall so, the sleeping man was greatly struck, and by the boulder also.

In fact, his friends who idolized him remarked they hardly recognized him. Of course, the bear was. greatly grieved, but being such a dumb thing she only thought, I was deceived, but still I did hit something, which showed this masculine achievement, had somewhat soothed her deep bereavement. The moral, if you prize your bones, beware of females throwing stones. End of the confiding peasant and the melodroit bear. the precipitate cock and the unappreciated pearl. This Libravox recording is in the public domain.

A rooster once pursued a worm that lingered not to brave him, to see his wretched victim squirm a pleasant thrill gave him. He summoned all his kith and kin, they hastened up by legions, with quaint expressive gurgles in their esophageal regions. Just then a kind of glimmering attracted his attention. The worm became too small a thing for more than passing mention. The throng of hungry hens and rude, he skillfully evaded, said he, I faith if this be food I saw the prize ere they did.

It was a large and costly peril belonging in a necklace, and dropped by some neglectful girl. Some people are so reckless. The cock assumed an air forlorn and cried, It's really cruel. I thought it was a grain of corn. It's nothing but a jewel. He turned again to where his clan in one astounding tangle,

With eager haste together ran to slay the helpless angle. And sighed, He was of massive size I should have used discretion. Too late. Around that to surprise a bargain's sale in session. the worm's remarks upon his plight have never been recorded but any one may know how slight diversion it afforded for worms and human beings are unanimous that when pecked to be the prey of men they far prefer to be hen pecked the moral when your dinner comes don't leave it for your neighbors because you hear the sound of drums and see the gleam of sabres or like the cock you'll find too late that ornaments external do not for certain indicate a bonafide kernel end of the precipitate cock and the unappreciated pearl the abbreviated fox and his skeptical comrades

this labor box recording is in the public domain a certain fox had a grecian nose and a beautiful tale his friends were wont to say in a jesting way A divinity shaped his ends. The fact is sad, but his fox-ship had a fault we should all issue. He was so deceived that he quite believed what he heard from friends was true. One day he found in a sheltered spot a trap with stalwart springs that was cunningly planned to supply the demand for some of those tippet things. The fox drew nigh and resolved to try the way that the foxes. trap was set. When the trap was through with this interview, there was one less tippet

to get. The fox returned to his doting friends and said, with an awkward smile, My tale I know was comil foe, and served me well for a while. When his comrades laughed at his shortage aft, he added, with a scornful bow, Pray check your mirth, for I heard from worth they're wearing them shorter now. But one of his friends, a bookish chap, replied with a thoughtful frown. You know today the publishers say that the short tail won't go down. And upon my soul, I think on the whole that the publisher's words are true, I should hate good sir to part my fur in the middle as done by you.

And another added these truthful words in the midst of the eager hush. We can part our hair most anywhere, so long as we keep the brush. The moral is this. It is never amiss to treasure the things you've pinned. Preserve your tales for when all else fails. There'll be useful things in the end. End of the abbreviated fox and his skeptical comrades. The hospitable Caledonian and the thankless Viper.

this libravox recording is in the public domain a caledonian piper who was walking on the wold nearly stepped upon a viper rendered torpid by the cold by the sight of her admonished he forbore to plant his boot but he showed he was astonished by the way he muttered hoot now this simple-minded piper such a kindly nature had that he lifted up the viper and besie stowed her in his plaid. Though the scott is stern, at least he, no unhappy creature spurns, sleeked, coward, timorous beastie, quote the piper, quoting Burns. This was unaffected kindness, but there was, to state the fact, just a slight sup-cour of blindness in his charitable act. If you'd watch the piper shortly you'd have seen him leap aloft,

as this snake of ways uncourtly bit him suddenly and oft. There was really no excuse for this the Biper's cruel work, and the Piper found a use for words he'd never learned at Kirk. But the biting was so thorough that although the doctors tried not the best in Edinburgh could assist him and he died. And the moral is, The Piper of the matter made a butch, when can her. hardly blamed the viper if she took a nip of scotch. For she only did what he did, and his nippy

wasn't small. Otherwise, you see, he needed not have seen the snake at all. End of the hospitable Caledonian and the thankless viper. The impetuous breeze and the diplomatic sun. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. A Boston man, an ultimate woman. had, an ulster with a cape that fluttered. It smacked his face and made him mad, and Polly got remarks, he uttered, I bought it at a bargain, said he, I'm tired of the thing already. The wind that chanced to blow that day was easterly and rather strong, too. It loved to see the galling way that clothes vex those whom they belong to. Now watch me, cried this spell of weather, I'll rid him of it all together.

It whirled the man across the street. It banged him up against a railing. It twined the ulster round his feet, but all of this was unavailing. For not without resource it found him, he drew the ulster closer round him. My word, the man was heard to say. Although I like not such abuse, it's not strange the wind is strong today. It always is in Massachusetts. such weather threatens much the health of inhabitants this commonwealth of.

The sun, emerging from a rift between the clouds, observed the victim, and how the wind be set and biffed, belabred, buffeted, and kicked him. Said he, the wind is doubtless new here, tis quite the freshest ever blew here. And then he put forth all his strength, his warmth with might and main exerted, till upward in its tube at length the mercury most nimbly spurted. Phenomenal the curious sight was so swift the rise in Fahrenheit was. The man supposed himself at first the prey of some new mode of smelting. His pulses were about to burst, his every limb seemed slowly melting,

and as the heat began to numb him, he cast the ulster wildly from him. Impulsive breeze the use of force, observed the sun. A foolish act is, perceiving which you see, of course, how highly efficacious tact is. The Wondering Wind replied, Good gracious, you're right about the efficacious. The moral deals, as morals do, with tact and all its virtues boasted. But still I can't forget can you that wretched man first chilled, then roasted? Bronquitis seized him shortly after, and that's no cause for vulgar laughter.

End of The Impetuous Breeze and the Diplomatic Sun. End of Fables for the Frivolous by Guy Wetmore Carroll. Thank you for listening.