The _Ass_’s _Wish_.
An _Ass_ was wishing in a hard Winter, for a Little Warm Weather, and
a Mouthful of Fresh Grass to Knab upon, in Exchange for a Heartless
Truss of Straw, and a Cold Lodging. In Good Time the Warm Weather, and
the Fresh Grass comes on; but so much Toyl and Bus’ness along with it,
that the _Ass_ grows quickly as Sick of the _Spring_ as he was of the
_Winter_. His next Longing is for _Summer_; but what with Harvest Work,
and other Drudgeries of That Season, he is Worse now then he was in
the _Spring_; and then he fancies he shall never be Well till _Autumn_
comes; But There again, what with Carrying Apples, Grapes, Fewel,
Winter-Provisions, _&c._ he finds himself in a Greater Hurry then ever.
In fine, when he has trod the Circle of the Year in a Course of Restless
Labour, his Last Prayer is for _Winter again_, and that he may but take
up his Rest where he began his Complaint.
The MORAL.
_The Life of an Unsteady Man runs away in a Course of Vain Wishes, and
Unprofitable Repentance: An Unsettled Mind can never be at Rest. There’s
No Season without its Bus’ness._