and the next morning the slave returned to the farmer and told him the ox was sick and could not pull the plow.

“‘Then,’ said the farmer, “hitch the ass to the plow for the plowing must go on.’

“All that day the ass, who had only intended to help his friend, found himself compelled to do the ox’s task. When night came and he was released from the plow his heart was bitter and his legs were weary and his neck was sore where the bow had chafed it.

“The farmer lingered in the barnyard to listen.

“The ox began first. ‘You are my good friend. Because of your wise advice I have enjoyed a day of rest.’

“‘And I,’ retorted the ass, ‘am like many another simplehearted one who starts to help a friend and ends up by doing his task for him. Hereafter you draw your own plow, for I did hear the master tell the slave to send for the butcher were you sick again. I wish he would, for you are a lazy fellow.’ Thereafter they spoke to each other no more — this ended their friendship. Canst thou tell the moral to this