So, to make a long story short:
The mouse and crow became
Such friends as never fail,
Enduring, hard to split
As flesh and finger nail.
Indeed, the mouse was so captivated by the crow's attentions that he grew confident to the point of feeling quite at home between his wings.
Now one day the crow appeared with tears filling his eyes, and sobs choked him as he said: "My very dear Gold, I have grown dissatisfied with this country. I intend to travel." "My dear friend," said Gold, "what cause have you for discontent?"
"Listen, my friend," said the crow. "There has been a dreadful drought in this country, so that all the city people, driven by famine, not only cease to give the birds a few mere crumbs, but actually set bird-traps in every house. To be sure, I have not been caught, for further life is appointed me. Yet this is why I shed tears—for I think of foreign travel. This is why I plan to visit another land." "Then tell me where you plan to go," said Gold. And Swift replied:
"In the far south is a great lake in the heart of the jungle. There lives a turtle named Slow, a bosom friend of mine, dearer even than you are. He will give me bits of fish, a digestible diet. In his society I shall be happy, enjoying the delight of conversation spiced with wit. Besides, I cannot behold such slaughter of birds. For the proverb says:
