A Woodman's axe had gone astray, The winner of his bread was gone; And he sat moaning all alone. He had no wealth to buy such things: The axe his clothes and dinner brings. Hopeless, and in a murky place, He sat, the tears ran down his face. "My own, my poor old axe! Ah! me, Great Jupiter, I pray to thee; But give it back from down below, And I will strike for thee a blow." His prayer was in Olympus heard; Mercury entered at the word. "Your hatchet is not lost," said he; "But will you know it, when you see? I found an axe, just now, hard by." A golden axe he presently Showed to the honest man; but "Nay" Was all the fellow cared to say. Next one of silver he refused; Silver or gold he never used. Then one of simple steel and wood; "That's mine!" he cried. "Ah! thankee--good; I'm quite content with this, you see." "Come," said the god, "then take the three-- That's my reward for honesty." "In that case, then, I am content," The rustic said, and off he went. The rumour buzzed the country through, Soon others lost their axes, too; And shouting prayers unto the sky, Jove Mercury sent, to make reply. To each he showed an axe of gold-- Who but a fool could it behold, And not say, when he saw it shine-- "Hurrah! that's it--yes, that is mine?" But Mercury gave each rogue instead A heavy thump upon the head. He who with simple truth's content, Will never of his choice repent: To tell a lie for interest, Was never yet of ways the best. What does it profit thus to stoop? Jove is not made an easy dupe. FABLE LXXII. THE ASS AND THE LITTLE DOG.