XI.

THE LEARNED GEESE.

A FABLE.


A company of geese used to meet together very often, to talk about the
affairs of the nation, and to contrive ways and means to do the public
good. They were full of learning; had read all the valuable books that
ever were printed in the goose language; and had got the notion into
their heads that when they died, wisdom would perish in the earth.
They looked down upon the great mass of goosehood about them with
feelings of pity--almost of contempt. At their public meetings--which
were held pretty often, for they had much more public than private
business to attend to--they occupied a great share of their time in
discussing questions which were so deep and muddy, that nobody but
they ever saw to the bottom of them. Indeed, many very sensible geese,
who made few pretensions to learning, have doubted whether they saw
very clearly into these questions themselves. I, too, have my doubts
on the subject, as well as these sensible geese; and I go farther
than they in my doubts. I doubt whether, in case any learned goose
could see to the bottom of very many of these muddy subjects, his
knowledge would be worth much to him. I will give you a specimen of
some of the questions they used to debate upon, and leave you to judge
of their value for yourselves. They were such as these:

"How _thick_ is the shadow of a goose in the moonlight?"