"No, no, don't be shy, old fellow; spit it out!" and thus encouraged by his brother, Ernest, with the blush of a modest author, began:
"Beneath this stone poor Grizzle's bones are laid,
A faithful ass he was, and loved by all.
At length, his master's voice he disobeyed,
And thereby came his melancholy fall.
A monstrous serpent, springing from the grass,
Seized, crushed, and swallowed him before our eyes.
But we, though yet we mourn our honest ass,
Are grateful; for he thereby saved the lives
Of all the human beings on this shore—
A father, mother, and their children four."
"Hurrah for the epitaph! Well done, Ernest!" resounded on all sides, and taking out a large red pencil I used for marking wood, the lines were forthwith inscribed on a great flat stone, being, as I told the boy, the very best poetry that had ever been written on our coast.
We then had dinner, and afterward went to work with the serpent.
The first operation was to recover the mangled remains of the ass, which being effected, he was buried in the soft marshy ground close by, and the hole filled up with fragments of rock.
Then we yoked Storm and Grumble to the serpent, and dragged it to a convenient distance from Rockburg, where the process of skinning, stuffing, and sewing up again afforded occupation of the deepest interest to the boys for several days.
We took great pains to coil it round a pole in the museum, arranging the head with the jaws wide open, so as to look as alarming as possible, and contriving to make eyes and tongue sufficiently well to represent nature; in fact, our dogs never passed the monster without growling, and must have wondered at our taste in keeping such a pet.
Over the entrance leading to the museum and library were inscribed these words:
NO ADMITTANCE FOR ASSES
The double meaning of this sentence pleased us all immensely.