THE COUNTRY AND THE CITY MOUSE.
A plain Country Mouse was one day unexpectedly visited at his hole, by a fine Mouse of the town, who had formerly been his play-fellow. The honest rustic, pleased with the honour, resolved to entertain his friend as sumptuously as possible. He set before him a reserve of delicate grey pease and bacon, a dish of fine oatmeal, some parings of new cheese, and to crown all with a dessert, a remnant of a charming mellow apple. When the repast was nearly finished, the spark of the town, taking breath, said, Old Crony, give me leave to be a little free with you; how can you bear to live in this melancholy hole here, with nothing but woods, and meadows, and mountains, and rivulets about you? Do you not prefer the conversation of the world to the chirping of birds, and the splendour of the court, to the rude aspect of a wild like this? With many flowery arguments, he at last prevailed upon his country friend to accompany him to town, and about midnight they safely entered a certain great house, where there had been an entertainment the day before. Here it was the courtier’s turn to entertain, and placing his guest on a rich Persian carpet, they both began to regale most deliciously, when on a sudden the noise of somebody opening the door, made them scuttle in confusion about the dining-room. The rustic in particular was ready to die with fear at the many hair-breadth escapes which followed. At last, recovering himself, Well, says he, if this be your town-life, much good may it do you. Give me my poor quiet hole again, with my homely, but comfortable grey pease.
APPLICATION.
A moderate fortune, with a quiet retirement in the country, is preferable to the greatest affluence, attended with the care and the perplexity of business. How often are we deceived by the specious shows of splendour and magnificence; and what a poor exchange does he make, who gives up ease and content in an humble situation, to engage in difficulties, and encounter perils in affluence and luxury! The ploughman in the field, who labours for his daily pittance, earns his bread with less uneasiness and fatigue, than the man who haunts levees to obtain wealth and preferment. Riches, properly used, are indeed very conducive to ease and happiness; but if we leave any comfortable situation to procure them, or abuse the possession of them by riot and intemperance, we resign the end for the means, mistake the shadow for the substance, and convert the instruments of good fortune into the engines of anxiety and solicitude.