A boy was playing with a tame snake. “My dear little creature,” said the boy, “I would not make myself so familiar with you if your venom had not been removed. You snakes are the most malicious, ungrateful creatures! I read full well what happened to a poor countryman who compassionately picked up one—perhaps one of your ancestors—whom he found half-frozen under a hedge and tucked it into his warming bosom. Scarcely did the evil creature feel revived than she bit her benefactor; and the good, friendly man had to die.”
“I am astonished,” said the snake, “how biased your historians must be! Ours tell this story quite differently. Your friendly man believed the snake was truly frozen, and because it was one of the colorful snakes, he tucked it away near himself to strip off its beautiful skin at home. Was that right?”
“Oh, just be quiet,” replied the boy. “What ungrateful person would not have known how to excuse themselves!”
“Quite right, my son,” interrupted the father, who had been listening to this conversation. “Yet nevertheless, should you ever hear of an extraordinary act of ingratitude, be sure to investigate all the circumstances thoroughly before allowing a person to be branded with such an abominable stigma. True benefactors have rarely placed ungrateful people in their debt; indeed, for the honor of humanity, I want to hope—never. But those benefactors with petty, selfish intentions, my son, deserve to reap ingratitude instead of appreciation.”