A Satyr, ranging in the forest
in winter,
came across a Traveler, half
starved and
nearly frozen.
He took pity upon him, and invited him to
go to his cave for food and shelter.
On their way, the Man
kept blowing upon
his fingers. "Why do you
do that?" said
the Satyr, who had seen but little of the world
of men.
"To warm my hands,"
replied the Man;
"they are nearly frozen."
Arrived at the cave, the Satyr
poured out a
smoking mess of pottage, and set it before the
Traveler, who eagerly seized it, and began to
blow upon it with all his might.
"What, blowing again!"
exclaimed the
Satyr. "Is it not hot enough?"
"It is, indeed," answered the Man;
"that is
the very reason why I am blowing
it. I want
to cool it enough to be able to eat it."
Upon this the Satyr
exclaimed in alarm.
"Be off with you! I will have no part with a
Man who can blow hot and cold from the same
mouth."
|