THE DOG WHO WAS HUNG.
Once on a time two sheep met, and one of them said to her friend, “Last night our dog Spring ate a lamb, and then bit the old one to death, as well as the man of the farm.” “Nay,” quoth the friend, “if that be true, in whom can we put our trust?” Thus spread the news, and such was the crime of Spring, who now lay bound, while a group of men sat to judge his case. Spring then said, with a firm voice, “For more than ten years I have done my work as a sheep dog should. Last night, as I lay on the ground, a wolf leapt forth from the wood, sprang at a lamb, and drank its blood, then let fall his prize, and stood at bay. We fought, and I slew the wolf. But now, when I saw the lamb, as it lay dead on the grass, I could in no way curb my wish to eat it. While I was at my feast, the ewe came up to seek for her young one; so, lest she should charge its death on me, I thought it best to kill her. Just then, up came the man of the farm, who of course thought that I had put both to death. His eye met mine; he held up his staff; I could not pause; dead men tell no tales, thought I, and so flew at his throat. You know, too well, the rest.”
If we do not crush sin in the bud, it will grow strong, and crush us.
Do what you ought, come what may.