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old Mouse, who studied philosophy in an empty granary, and during a severe famine had meditated a great deal on the nature of the gods, concluded at length to acknowledge the Sun as the supreme being, because it dispenses light and heat, draws forth the blossom, and brings the fruit to maturity, enlivens the healthy, and refreshes the sick.

The Sun heard the prayer of the Mouse, and mildly replied: “Poor little animal, I am but a creature like thyself. A fog, a cloud, spreading themselves before me, have the power to obscure my light and to deprive the earth of my heat.”

The Sun is right, thought the Mouse. I suffered myself to be dazzled by his splendour. It is the Cloud that by right deserves my adoration.

“I?” said the Cloud: “thou art egregiously mistaken. I am but a being composed of vapours that ascend from your earth into the