A Gard'ner took a Mole in his Grounds, and the Question was, whether he should put her to Death or no. The Mole Pleaded that she was one of his Family, and Digg'd his Garden for Nothing: Nay, she Insisted upon't, what Pity 'twas to Destroy a Creature that had so smooth a Skin, and Twenty other Little Pretences. Come, come, says the Gardner, I am not to be Fool'd with a Parcel of Fair Words: You have Nothing for Digging 'tis True; but pray who set you at Work? Is it for my Service d'ye think, to have my Plants and my Herbs torn up by the Roots? And what's your business at last, but by doing all you can for the filling of your own Belly, to leave me nothing to Eat?
'Tis according to the Course of those Kind Offices in the World, which we call Friendship, to do one another Good for our Own Sakes.