IT was a sultry day, and the Fox was almost
famishing with hunger and thirst. He was
just saying to himself that anything would
be acceptable, when, looking up, he spied some
great clusters of ripe, black grapes, hanging
from a trellised vine.
"What luck," he said; "if only they weren't
quite so high, I should be sure of a fine feast!
I wonder if I can get them? I can think of
nothing that would refresh me so."
Jumping into the air is not the easiest
thing in the world for a Fox to do; but he
gave a great spring, and nearly reached the
lowest clusters.
"I'll do better next time," he said.
He tried again and again, but did not succeed
as well as at first. Finding, at last, that
he was losing his strength, and that he had
little chance of getting the grapes, he walked
off slowly, grumbling, "The grapes are sour,
and not at all fit for my eating. I'll leave
them to the greedy birds. They eat anything."
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