"We'll see if I am to wait for you," said the black goat, and he
too started across.
They met in the middle of the bridge.
"Go back and let me cross,' said the white goat, stamping his
foot.
"Go back, yourself," replied the black goat, and he pushed against
the other.
They were very angry. Each drew back. Their heads came together
with terrible force. They locked horns. The white goat lost his
footing and fell, pulling the black goat over with him, and both
were drowned.
THE STRIKE OF THE MILL FEEDERS
The mill feeders of a great mill--the stomach--met together to
talk over their trials.
The hands said, "We are tired of carrying grist to the door of the
greedy mill. We would rather spend all our time painting pictures
or writing books."
"We were made for talking and singing," said the lips, "but much
of our time has to be spent in taking grist for the mill."
"And we," said the teeth, "give our life to crushing the grist
which is brought to the mill. We are wearing out in its service,
but what thanks do we get?"
"I have never had a holiday," said the tongue. "I do not mind
talking, but I do not like to work for the mill. Three times a day
or oftener, I must help the teeth to prepare the grist.
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