THE FARM-YARD COCK AND THE WEATHER-COCK故事

　　 THERE were two cocks- one on the dung-hill, the other on

　　 the roof. They were both arrogant, but which of the two

　　 rendered most service? Tell us your opinion- we'll keep to

　　 ours just the same though.

　　 The poultry yard was divided by some planks from another

　　 yard in which there was a dung-hill, and on the dung-hill lay

　　 and grew a large cucumber which was conscious of being a

　　 hot-bed plant.

　　 "One is born to that," said the cucumber to itself. "Not

　　 all can be born cucumbers; there must be other things, too.

　　 The hens, the ducks, and all the animals in the next yard are

　　 creatures too. Now I have a great opinion of the yard cock on

　　 the plank; he is certainly of much more importance than the

　　 weather-cock who is placed so high and can't even creak, much

　　 less crow. The latter has neither hens nor chicks, and only

　　 thinks of himself and perspires verdigris. No, the yard cock

　　 is really a cock! His step is a dance! His crowing is music,

　　 and wherever he goes one knows what a trumpeter is like! If he

　　 would only come in here! Even if he ate me up stump, stalk,

　　 and all, and I had to dissolve in his body, it would be a

　　 happy death," said the cucumber.

　　 In the night there was a terrible storm. The hens, chicks,

　　 and even the cock sought shelter; the wind tore down the

　　 planks between the two yards with a crash; the tiles came

　　 tumbling down, but the weather-cock sat firm. He did not even

　　 turn round, for he could not; and yet he was young and freshly

　　 cast, but prudent and sedate. He had been born old, and did

　　 not at all resemble the birds flying in the air- the sparrows,

　　 and the swallows; no, he despised them, these mean little

　　 piping birds, these common whistlers. He admitted that the

　　 pigeons, large and white and shining like mother-o'-pearl,

　　 looked like a kind of weather-cock; but they were fat and

　　 stupid, and all their thoughts and endeavours were directed to

　　 filling themselves with food, and besides, they were tiresome

　　 things to converse with. The birds of passage had also paid

　　 the weather-cock a visit and told him of foreign countries, of

　　 airy caravans and robber stories that made one's hair stand on

　　 end. All this was new and interesting; that is, for the first

　　 time, but afterwards, as the weather-cock found out, they

　　 repeated themselves and always told the same stories, and

　　 that's very tedious, and there was no one with whom one could

　　 associate, for one and all were stale and small-minded.

　　 "The world is no good!" he said. "Everything in it is so

　　 stupid."

　　 The weather-cock was puffed up, and that quality would

　　 have made him interesting in the eyes of the cucumber if it

　　 had known it, but it had eyes only for the yard cock, who was

　　 now in the yard with it.

　　 The wind had blown the planks, but the storm was over.

　　 "What do you think of that crowing?" said the yard cock to

　　 the hens and chickens. "It was a little rough- it wanted

　　 elegance."

　　 And the hens and chickens came up on the dung-hill, and

　　 the cock strutted about like a lord.

　　 "Garden plant!" he said to the cucumber, and in that one

　　 word his deep learning showed itself, and it forgot that he

　　 was pecking at her and eating it up. "A happy death!"

　　 The hens and the chickens came, for where one runs the

　　 others run too; they clucked, and chirped, and looked at the

　　 cock, and were proud that he was of their kind.

　　 "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" he crowed, "the chickens will grow up

　　 into great hens at once, if I cry it out in the poultry-yard

　　 of the world!"

　　 And hens and chicks clucked and chirped, and the cock

　　 announced a great piece of news.

　　 "A cock can lay an egg! And do you

　　know what's in that

　　 egg? A basilisk. No one can stand the sight of such a thing;

　　 people know that, and now you know it too- you know what is in

　　 me, and what a champion of all cocks I am!"

　　 With that the yard cock flapped his wings, made his comb

　　 swell up, and crowed again; and they all shuddered, the hens

　　 and the little chicks- but they were very proud that one of

　　 their number was such a champion of all cocks. They clucked

　　 and chirped till the weather-cock heard; he heard it; but he

　　 did not stir.

　　 "Everything is very stupid," the weather-cock said to

　　 himself. "The yard cock lays no eggs, and I am too lazy to do

　　 so; if I liked, I could lay a wind-egg. But the world is not

　　 worth even a wind-egg. Everything is so stupid! I don't want

　　 to sit here any longer."

　　 With that the weather-cock broke off; but he did not kill

　　 the yard cock, although the hens said that had been his

　　 intention. And what is the moral? "Better to crow than to be

　　 puffed up and break off!

　　 THE END