A HORSE and a cow that were turned out to pasture together cropped the grass in company until they came to a tree in the middle of the field, where they stopped to rest in the shade. The cow lay down and chewed the cud, but the horse stood switching off the flies with his long tail.

While doing this he turned to the cow and said:

“I’ve just been thinking what a contrast there is between us two. I am so swift, and you are so slow. You travel only from the barn to the field in summer, and hardly get out of the barnyard in winter. Your walk is clumsy and awkward; and when you try to run, you seem to have our old master’s rheumatism in every joint. How different it is with me, galloping swiftly over the country around, visiting our neighbors’ farms and hearing of all that is going on! But then it is not your fault that you were made to be only a cow, while I was made a fleet-footed horse.”

“I’m very glad,” said the cow, “that you are so well satisfied with your lot, but I don’t want you to think I am dissatisfied with mine. When our mistress pats me on the side and calls me kind names, after milking, I feel proud too. For this I go through the fields picking out the freshest grass and the richest clover, saying to myself, ‘I’ll give her a good pailful to-night.’ Then, when I see the red cheeks of the children, I know I’ve had something to do with them; and when our master drives you to market with his butter-tub well filled, I have a notion he would miss me, as well as you.”

“I don’t deny,” replied the horse, “that you have your good points and are useful in your way. I was only pitying you for being so slow and so ugly.”

As he spoke these words he saw the farmer coming through the gate into the field and bringing a strange man with him. They came directly to the tree where the horse and the cow were resting.

“Yes,” said the stranger, looking at the horse; “he’s a smart, good-looking colt, and by putting him through some pretty hard training I reckon I can work him off at a fair profit. I’ll give you your price for him.”

“Then you can have him,” said the farmer. “If he’s worth that, I can’t afford to keep him; a lower-priced beast will do just as well for me.”

With that the old man slipped a halter over the horse’s head and led him away. As he sadly followed his master he looked back at the old cow, still contentedly chewing her cud, and said:

“I go from this pleasant farm, where I was bred and have lived so long, to be driven and beaten, and then sold I know not where. Ah, my old friend! I wish now that I was as ugly and as slow as you.”

If we have any gifts beyond our neighbors, let us possess them humbly; for we cannot tell but what those very gifts may some day cause our happiness to be less than theirs.