Once, On A Time And In A Place Conducive To Malaria, There Lived A Member Of The Race Of Rana Temporaria; Or, More Concisely Still, A Frog Inhabited A Certain Bog. A Bull Of Brobdingnagian Size, Too Proud For Condescension, One Morning Chanced To Cast His Eyes Upon The Frog I Mention; And, Being To The Manner Born, Surveyed Him With A Lofty Scorn. Perceiving This, The Bactrian'S Frame With Anger Was Inflated, Till, Growing Larger, He Became Egregiously Elated; For Inspiration'S Sudden Spell Had Pointed Out A Way To Swell. "Ha! Ha!" He Proudly Cried, "A Fig For This, Your Mammoth Torso! Just Watch Me While I Grow As Big As You--Or Even More So!" To Which Magniloquential Gush His Bullship Simply Answered "Tush!" Alas! The Frog'S Success Was Slight, Which Really Was A Wonder, In View Of How With Main And Might He Strove To Grow Rotunder! And, Standing Patiently The While, The Bull Displayed A Quiet Smile. But Ah, The Frog Tried Once Too Oft And, Doing So, He Busted; Whereat The Bull Discreetly Coughed And Moved Away, Disgusted, As Well He Might, Considering The Wretched Taste That Marked The Thing. The Moral: Everybody Knows How Ill A Wind It Is That Blows.