“Where is the jackal?” inquired the crow. “She is near by,” answered the antelope, “waiting to feed upon my flesh.” “This I predicted,” said the crow. “I escape such calamities because I place no such trust; the wise are continually in dread of wicked associations. A pretended friend who flatters thee should be shunned as a dish of milk with poison at its brim. Contract no friendship with flatterers; at first they fall at your feet in their anxiety to drink your blood; they hum strange tunes in your ears with soft murmurs, and, having found an opening, they will ruin you without remorse.” The faithful crow watched until he saw the farmer approaching, then he said to the antelope, “Feign to be dead and remain motionless until thou hearest me make a noise, then run swiftly away.” The owner of the corn, with his eyes flooded with joy, saw the antelope who pretended to be dead, so he took away the snare, and was busily engaged in taking care of his net, when the crow cried out, and the antelope hearing the signal, bounded to his feet and ran away with great speed. The disappointed farmer threw a club after him, and struck the deceitful jackal, who was hidden in a bush, for thus it is written: “In three years, in three months, in three days, the fruit of great vices may be reaped, even in this world.” THE BRĀHMAN AND THE ICHNEUMON. There was a Brāhman named Modeva, who lived alone with his wife and their infant daughter. One day the mother went away to perform her ablutions and acts of adoration. She therefore left the child in the father’s care. Soon after the mother left home a great rāja sent for the Brāhman to perform a religious ceremony called the Srāddha, or offerings to the ghosts of his ancestors. It is customary upon these occasions to bestow rich presents upon the officiating Brāhman or priest, and this was an opportunity that ought not to be lost. Knowing that if he did not go promptly another would be called in his place, he committed the care of his child to a faithful ichneumon, which he had long cherished, and having done so, he hastened away to obey the call of the rāja. Soon after he went away a terrible serpent crawled into the little home and approached the child. He was attacked, however, by the faithful ichneumon, who killed him and cut him in pieces; then seeing his master returning the animal ran to meet him, even while his mouth and paws were still wet with the blood of the serpent. Seeing him thus, the Brāhman promptly decided that he had killed the child, and in his rage he slew the ichneumon. Then going to his house he found the babe sleeping peacefully with the mangled body of the snake beside it. Then, indeed, he knew that, in his haste and unreasonable anger, he had slain the faithful protector of his child. Therefore, he who knows not the first principle, and the first cause, and who is in subjection to his wrath, is tormented like a fool. Let not a man perform an act hastily. Want of