“Ah!” meditated the unhappy beast, “I have performed one miracle, but I can’t keep it up all day, you know.  The explanation demanded is a trifle too heavy for even the ponderous ingenuity of a marsupial.”

And he permitted himself to be sodded over.

If the reader knows what lesson is conveyed by this narrative, he knows—­just what the writer knows.

LXXXV.

Three animals on board a sinking ship prepared to take to the water.  It was agreed among them that the bear should be lowered alongside; the mouse (who was to act as pilot) should embark upon him at once, to beat off the drowning sailors; and the monkey should follow, with provisions for the expedition—­which arrangement was successfully carried out.  The fourth day out from the wreck, the bear began to propound a series of leading questions concerning dinner; when it appeared that the monkey had provided but a single nut.

“I thought this would keep me awhile,” he explained, “and you could eat the pilot.”

Hearing this, the mouse vanished like a flash into the bear’s ear, and fearing the hungry beast would then demand the nut, the monkey hastily devoured it.  Not being in a position to insist upon his rights, the bear merely gobbled up the monkey.

[Illustration]

LXXXVI.

A lamb suffering from thirst went to a brook to drink.  Putting his nose to the water, he was interested to feel it bitten by a fish.  Not liking fish, he drew back and sought another place; but his persecutor getting there before him administered the same rebuff.  The lamb being rather persevering, and the fish having no appointments for that day, this was repeated a few thousand times, when the former felt justified in swearing: 

“I’m eternally boiled!” said he, “if ever I experienced so many fish in all my life.  It is discouraging.  It inspires me with mint sauce and green peas.”

He probably meant amazement and fear; under the influence of powerful emotions even lambs will talk “shop.”

“Well, good bye,” said his tormentor, taking a final nip at the animal’s muzzle; “I should like to amuse you some more; but I have other fish to fry.”

This tale teaches a good quantity of lessons; but it does not teach why this fish should have persecuted this lamb.

LXXXVII.

A mole, in pursuing certain geological researches, came upon the buried carcase of a mule, and was about to tunnel him.

“Slow down, my good friend,” said the deceased.  “Push your mining operations in a less sacrilegious direction.  Respect the dead, as you hope for death!”

“You have that about you,” said the gnome, “that must make your grave respected in a certain sense, for at least such a period as your immortal part may require for perfect exhalation.  The immunity I accord is not conceded to your sanctity, but extorted by your scent.  The sepulchres of moles only are sacred.”