CIX.
"The Millennium is come," said a lion to a lamb. "Suppose you come out of that fold, and let us lie down together, as it has been foretold we should."
"Been to dinner to-day?" inquired the lamb.
"Not a bite of anything since breakfast," was the reply, "except a few lean swine, a saddle or two, and some old harness."
"I distrust a Millennium," continued the lamb, thoughtfully, "which consists solely in our lying down together. My notion of that happy time is that it is a period in which pork and leather are not articles of diet, but in which every respectable lion shall have as much mutton as he can consume. However, you may go over to yonder sunny hill and lie down until I come."
It is singular how a feeling of security tends to develop cunning. If that lamb had been out upon the open plain he would have readily fallen into the snare—and it was studded very thickly with teeth.
CX.
"I say, you!" bawled a fat ox in a stall to a lusty young ass who was braying outside; "the like of that is not in good taste!"
"In whose good taste, my adipose censor?" inquired the ass, not too respectfully.
"Why—h'm—ah! I mean it does not suit me. You ought to bellow."