[Illustration: THE FOX WITHOUT A TAIL.]
A Fox, being caught in a steel trap by his tail, was glad to compound
for his escape with the loss of it; but, upon coming abroad into the
world, began to be so sensible of the disgrace such a defect would bring
upon him, that he almost wished he had died rather than left it behind
him. However, to make the best of a bad matter, he formed a project in
his head to call an assembly of the rest of the Foxes, and propose it
for their imitation, as a fashion which would be very agreeable and
becoming. He did so, and made a long harangue upon the unprofitableness
of tails in general, and endeavoured chiefly to show the awkwardness and
inconvenience of a Fox's tail in particular: adding, that it would be
both more graceful and more expeditious to be altogether without them;
and that, for his part, what he had only imagined and conjectured
before, he now found by experience; for that he never enjoyed himself so
well, and found himself so easy as he had done since he cut off his
tail. He said no more, but looked about with a brisk air, to see what
proselytes he had gained; when a sly old thief in the company, who
understood trap, answered him with a leer--'I believe you may have found
a conveniency in parting with your tail, and when we are in the same
circumstances, perhaps we may do so too.'