A MOUNTAIN was in labour, and the people of seven cities had
assembled to watch its movements and hear its groans1. While they
waited in breathless expectancy2 out came a Mouse.
"Oh, what a baby!" they cried in derision.
"I may be a baby," said the Mouse, gravely, as he passed outward
through the forest of shins, "but I know tolerably well how to
diagnose a volcano."
