the tail of a serpent once rebelled against the head, and said that it was a great shame that one end of any animal should always have its way, and drag the other after it, whether it was willing or no. it was in vain that the head urged that the tail had neither brains nor eyes, and that it was in no way made to lead.

wearied by the tail's importunity, the head one day let him have his will. the serpent now went backward for a long time quite gayly, until he came to the edge of a high cliff, over which both head and tail went flying, and came with a heavy thump on the shore beneath.

the head, it may be supposed, was never again troubled by the tail with a word about leading.