"How in the world was that?" asked Arthur.
"That donkey, I am told, was at work in the park. A lion broke from his cage. He was hungry. He saw the donkey as he went leaping through the grounds and sprang upon him. A terrible fight followed. The donkey had neither teeth nor claws like the lion to defend himself. He could not get away. But God had given him great strength—so, with a mighty effort, he shook off his enemy and quickly turning, dealt him rapid and strong kicks, planting his blows between the eyes of the lion and tumbling him into an abyss, where the stunned beast died from his wounds. The brave donkey, however, was so dreadfully cut here and there by the lion's teeth that he soon bled to death.
"The battle was witnessed by many amid great excitement. Their sympathy was all with the donkey who was only doing what every one should do when attacked by a bloodthirsty foe—defend themselves.
"Such was the admiration for this beast which you call ugly and stubborn, that as soon as he died, a taxidermist who makes it his business to preserve the skins of animals and give them a life-like look, took this donkey in charge and there you see him.
"Here I've been sitting for one long hour looking at this stuffed beast. And I've been wondering how many of all that crowd over there by the monkeys would do and die if necessary for some noble cause. Would you, my boy?" said Mr. Essex, giving Arthur a searching look.
"God helping me," he answered, "I'll try to be right and true everywhere and every time. I should be ashamed to be outdone by a donkey."
C. M. L.
