theRE were two cocks—one on the dung-hill，the other on the roof. They were both arrogant，but which of the two rendered most service? Tell usyour opinion—we'll keep to ours just the samethough.
the poultry yard was divided by some planksfrom another yard in which there was a dung-hill，and on the dung-hill lay and GREw a large cucumberwhich was conscious of being a hot-bed plant.
“One is born to that，” said the cucumber to itself. “Not all can be born cucumbers; theremust be other things， too. The hens， the ducks， and all the animals in the next yard arecreatures too. Now I have a GREat opinion of the yard cock on the plank; he is certainly ofmuch more importance than the weather-cock who is placed so high and can't even creak，much less crow. The latter has neither hens nor chicks， and only thinks of himself andperspires verdigris. No， the yard cock is really a cock! His step is a dance! His crowing ismusic， and wherever he goes one knows what a trumpeter is like! If he would only come inhere! Even if he ate me up stump， stalk， and all， and I had to dissolve in his body， itwould be a happy death，” said the cucumber.
In the night there was a terrible storm. The hens， chicks， and even the cock soughtshelter; the wind tore down the planks between the two yards with a crash; the tiles cametumbling down， but the weather-cock sat firm. He did not even turn round， for he couldnot; and yet he was young and freshly cast， but prudent and sedate. He had been bornold， and did not at all resemble the birds flying in the air—the sparrows， and the swallows;no， he despised them， these mean little piping birds， these common whistlers. He admittedthat the pigeons， large and white and shining like mother-o'-pearl， looked like a kind ofweather-cock; but they were fat and stupid， and all their thoughts and endeavours weredirected to filling themselves with food， and besides， they were tiresome things to conversewith. The birds of passage had also paid the weather-cock a visit and told him of foreigncountries， of airy caravans and robber stories that made one's hair stand on end. All this wasnew and interesting; that is， for the first time， but afterwards， as the weather-cock foundout， they repeated themselves and always told the same stories， and that's very tedious，and there was no one with whom one could associate， for one and all were stale and small-minded.
“the world is no good!” he said. “Everything in it is so stupid.”
the weather-cock was puffed up， and that quality would have made him interesting in theeyes of the cucumber if it had known it， but it had eyes only for the yard cock， who was nowin the yard with it.
the wind had blown the planks， but the storm was over.
“What do you think of that crowing?” said the yard cock to the hens and chickens. “It wasa little rough—it wanted elegance.”
And the hens and chickens came up on the dung-hill， and the cock strutted about like alord.
“Garden plant!” he said to the cucumber， and in that one word his deep learning showeditself， and it forgot that he was pecking at her and eating it up. “A happy death!”
the hens and the chickens came， for where one runs the others run too; they clucked，and chirped， and looked at the cock， and were proud that he was of their kind.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” he crowed， “the chickens will grow up into GREat hens at once， ifI cry it out in the poultry-yard of the world!”
And hens and chicks clucked and chirped， and the cock announced a GREat piece ofnews.
“A cock can lay an egg! And do you know what's in that egg? A basilisk. No one can standthe sight of such a thing; people know that， and now you know it too—you know what is inme， and what a champion of all cocks I am!”
With that the yard cock flapped his wings， made his comb swell up， and crowed again;and they all shuddered， the hens and the little chicks—but they were very proud that one oftheir number was such a champion of all cocks. They clucked and chirped till the weather-cockheard; he heard it; but he did not stir.
“Everything is very stupid，” the weather-cock said to himself. “The yard cock lays noeggs， and I am too lazy to do so; if I liked， I could lay a wind-egg. But the world is notworth even a wind-egg. Everything is so stupid! I don't want to sit here any longer.”
With that the weather-cock broke off; but he did not kill the yard cock， although the henssaid that had been his intention. And what is the moral? “Better to crow than to be puffed upand break off!”