You must know that sometimes old women are like a glass of wine. One of this sort once found a Wine-jar lying in the road, and eagerly went up to it hoping to find it full.
But when she took it up she found that all the
wine had been drunk out of it. Still she took a
long sniff at the mouth of the Jar. "Ah," she
cried,
Moral: "What memories cling 'round the
instruments of our pleasure."