The Young Hound
A young hound once bravely plunged into the river. He splashed along the shore enjoying his newfound skill. A beaver was watching him—
“Hey, look at me, Herr Chew Master, I can really swim!”
The beaver spoke with mild scorn, “Yes, friend, you can really swim. But it’s not pretty!”
So what, the hound thought. He is certainly grumpy! The old water architect must have had a bad breakfast! The beaver left.
Then up came a puffed up turkey-cock. When he saw the hound swimming he shouted out loud:
“Hurrah! How splendidly you can swim. No frog can do any better, no fish or no goose. You are — and no one can deny this — the best swimmer of all time!”
The hound listened to the turkey-cock and his praise. Then it hung its tail very sadly and mournfully left.
When a wise man chides you — — He might be envious and bad tempered!
When an idiot praises you — then it’s really bad!
Yes, if Servaes or Brandes tells me:
“This book is shit!” — I won’t despair; yet if Gottschall praises it —
Then I will quickly throw the beautiful book into a frog pond.
The critics may have the last word, yet I am driver of the bus!
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