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NCE upon a time a man had an Ass which for many years carried sacks to the mill without tiring. At last, however, its strength was worn out; it was no longer of any use for work. Accordingly its master began to ponder as to how best to cut down its keep; but the Ass, seeing there was mischief in the air, ran away and started on the road to Bremen; there he thought he could become a town-musician.

When he had been travelling a short time, he fell in with a hound, who was lying panting on the road as though he had run himself off his legs.

‘Well, what are you panting so for, Growler?’ said the Ass.

‘Ah,’ said the Hound, ‘just because I am old, and every day I get weaker, and also because I can no longer keep up with the pack, my master wanted to kill me, so I took my departure. But now, how am I to earn my bread?’

‘Do you know what,’ said the Ass. ‘I am going to Bremen, and shall there become a town-musician; come with me and take your part in the music. I shall play the lute, and you shall beat the kettle-drum.’

The Hound agreed, and they went on.

A short time after they came upon a Cat, sitting in the road, with a face as long as a wet week.

‘Well, what has been crossing you, Whiskers?’ asked the Ass.

‘Who can be cheerful when he is out at elbows?’ said the Cat. ‘I am getting on in years, and my teeth are blunted and I prefer to sit by the stove and purr instead of hunting round after mice. Just because of this my mistress wanted