remarkable for his constant use of parables, which are but fables--we
speak it with reverence--adapted to the gravity of the subjects on which
he discoursed. And, in profane history, we read that Stesichorus put the
Himerians on their guard against the tyranny of Phalaris by the fable of
the Horse and the Stag. Cyrus, for the instruction of kings, told the
story of the fisher obliged to use his nets to take the fish that turned
a deaf ear to the sound of his flute. Menenius Agrippa, wishing to bring
back the mutinous Roman people from Mount Sacer, ended his harangue with
the fable of the Belly and the Members. A Ligurian, in order to dissuade
King Comanus from yielding to the Phocians a portion of his territory as
the site of Marseilles, introduced into his discourse the story of the
bitch that borrowed a kennel in which to bring forth her young, but, when
they were sufficiently grown, refused to give it up.

In all these instances, we see that fable was a mere auxiliary of
discourse--an implement of the orator. Such, probably, was the origin of
the apologues which now form the bulk of the most popular collections.
Aesop, who lived about six hundred years before Christ, so far as we can
reach the reality of his life, was an orator who wielded the apologue
with remarkable skill. From a servile condition, he rose, by the force of
his genius, to be the counsellor of kings and states. His wisdom was in
demand far and wide, and on the most important occasions. The pithy
apologues which fell from his lips, which, like the rules of arithmetic,
solved the difficult problems of human conduct constantly presented to
him, were remembered when the speeches that contained them were
forgotten. He seems to have written nothing himself; but it was not long
before the gems which he scattered began to be gathered up in
collections, as a distinct species of literature. The great and good
Socrates employed himself, while in prison, in turning the fables of
Aesop into verse. Though but a few fragments of his composition have come