THE FOWLER AND THE RING-DOVE.
A Fowler took his gun, and went into the woods a-shooting. He spied a Ring-dove among the branches of an Oak, and clapping the piece to his shoulder, took his aim, and made himself sure of killing it. But just as he was going to pull the trigger, an Adder, which he had trod upon under the grass, bit him so painfully in the leg, that he was obliged to quit his design, and throw his gun down in an agony. The venom immediately infected his blood, and his whole body began to mortify; which, when he perceived, he could not help owning it to be just. Fate, says he, has brought destruction upon me, while I was contriving the death of another.
APPLICATION.
The mischief that bad men meditate to others, commonly, like a judgment, falls upon their own heads; and the punishment of wickedness is so just in itself that the sufferer, who has made others feel it, cannot, if he think rightly, but confess that he deserves the like inflicted on himself. The hardened unfeeling heart of a cruel and unjust man, can, however, continue to do a thousand bitter things to others, until he tastes calamity himself, and then only it is that he feels the insupportable uneasiness it occasions. Why should we think others born to hard treatment more than ourselves, or imagine it can be reasonable to do to another what we should think very hard to suffer in our own persons?