Once upon a time in the heart of the Jungle Kingdom, there lived a lion named Leo. He was known all around as the King of the Beasts, but as time passed, he had developed a rather lazy disposition. He loved nothing more than to stretch out in a sunny spot and take long, long naps. All his friends in the jungle noticed this change in him, and they were quite worried.
One sunny afternoon, as Leo lay snoozing under a favorite tree, a squirrel came up to him and said, “Leo, don’t you know that tomorrow is the day of our great annual feast? The other beasts and I have gathered food for days for this special occasion. Won’t you join us and lend a paw in preparation?”
But Leo just rolled over, gave his luxurious mane a lazy flick, and said, “Tell the others to be sure and save me a big portion of the fish to-morrow.” And then he turned his back and closed his eyes again.
“We’ll be sure to save some food for you, Leo,” chirped the squirrel, “but you know you won’t enjoy it half so much as you will when you’ve done your share.” Then off he scampered to join the busy crowd of beasts who were preparing for the feast.
All that day, the animals of the jungle brought food to the banquet table that had been chosen, which was a great flat stone under wide-spreading trees. The little squirrel and his friends were busier and busier, and at night-fall, quite early, they ceased their work. They planned to come at sunrise the next morning, bring some of their own cooking, and place the last few remaining dishes upon the table.
All night long, Leo slept, and when the sun rose, the warm beams of light soon brought him to a waking state. He yawned and stretched, but the first thing he noticed was that the ground seemed strangely quiet.
“Why,” said he, “it seems to me as if the beasts have forgotten the feast, but I will just stretch my legs once more and saunter over that way.” So he rammed his golden mane against a tree to shake the dewdrops off, washed his great paws, and stared around.
“There seems to be nobody here yet,” Leo said to himself. “But never mind, I shall have a good meal today. I seldom go empty.” And saying this, he walked lazily on toward the feast.
But the other inhabitants of the jungle had come early that morning and gathered around the great flat stone, and oh, how beautiful the food looked! Various fruits lay about in the greatest profusion, and there were roots and nuts and large trays of rich delicacies of all kinds that had been prepared by the lovely little animals of the woods, and all hastily brought there. But they were saving the choicest fish and flesh for their lion King, Leo.
“Where do you suppose he is?” asked a deer. “This is the time he asked us to meet, and he said he wanted the meat saved for him first of all.”
Just then, Skylark flew down from a branch, and also asked, “Where is our King? I am so anxious to begin.” But then, when he could sit still no longer, he began to sing.
Leo, who had been sleeping nearby, heard the sweet song overhead, then opened his large amber eyes, and looked up.
“Ah, Skylark! There you are; you seem to be the only other person awake this early. Tell me, please, where are all our friends?”
“The feast is arranged as it has never been arranged before,” cried the little fellow. “All they are waiting for now is you, and we seem to have nothing to do but dig in. But oh, what can be keeping the others?”
“They are waiting for me!” said Leo, who winked at the bird. “None of our friends would dare to begin a feast without noticing their King, first, even if they were starving.”
And with that, Leo leaped toward the huge banquet table. From hurry and slight surprise, all the other beasts forgot to greet the lion in proper form, but sprang aside, uttering little squealing and frightened noises.
“Ho! ho!” laughed Leo. “Why do the little ones stand quaking there? Why this is no feast. It is a cowardly meal you are having, before your King. What be this provision, I should like to know? A few nuts for dishes! Faugh! Bring on your dinners!”
So saying, he pounced angrily upon a tray of fruits that sparkled like jewels, and which the animals could least afford to lose. He crunched fruits and nuts together, and he seemed to have an unending appetite, and would soon have led to a general panic by his unrestricted eating.
But the little friends were gaining their courage. They urgent whispered to one another, “This food was saved for our dear King and friend; let him eat. But he shall not take everything.”
Then one and another began to pounce upon different parts of the table, and eat while they were able. The lion, too, seeing this new attitude, soon finished fatally an entire tray that had held choicest game prepared by the animals of the jungle near by. Then there rushed about hither and thither a moose, a deer, and a porcupine, and frantic with hunger they crunched a few leaves.
But suddenly a strange, awful noise arose close by, and there dashed by two tigers, an elephant, and a hippopotamus, attracting attention to oneself, as well as to their hungry state.
“This cannot go on much longer,” yelped the moose. “We must fight. In sight of our assembled King and the entire puny crowd of you, all these mighty beasts attempt to feast with us. But who can keep up with the demands of all!”
“Enough is enough,” growled one of the tigers, who in passing gave the poor porcupine a blow, knocking out an entire row of bristles as if it were a pebble, and which made the porcupine squeal with pain.
This tinge of blood to the feast was too much for Leo. “You ignorant animals!” he roared without thinking—though he never quite believed what more had happened afterward. But the porcupine was right, and he too may have helped to feather Luxury’s arrows a little more too lavishly than customary. “You foolish fellow,” Leo told himself, afterward when he had been duly crowned and acclaimed King, “could he not know that this would never have happened had he followed the summons that came to him early in the day. Now how much pain, and I believe he is losing more than entirely blood the taste in one’s mouth for always. Were he eaten at once, instead of lying for days, gashed and without strength, it would have been the sure thing exhausted Nature needed, and united all animals, wild and tame, in our great Jungle Kingdom once more upon their feet.”
Thus speculated the lion King, and this, the moral of the fable, is the last word of wisdom on the subject.
“He that is wise hath a full bent to buy those even prevention wise men so well riddle.”
“And, as no instance at all should be needing now, just sayeth in rosy Greek two dead words, quietly limp, accepting all.”
And so Leo, the laziest lion to be now seized from the bower, the position that of causing Lament never removed him from, stairs giving advantage of daylight and strength lost. The apology of his various friends for keeping so and so again lacks wit and taste, becoming again a problem. Of doing honor to our polite friends, Pater, Seleucus, and the Paradis Foundation, neither was profusely long, nor remarkably gushing. If any deduction could be made yours truly, it was by an unskilful private joke, and if for any reason the localization of Fresh-grounded, didactic Teachers were chances in life unexpectedly most mistaken, Mr. Pulvis postponed illness for sakes evil manners as evilly used.
If, weighing broadly scrupulous and good taste, my poor idea on the whole subject-would it had a better share one!—may strike you not as deficient at all, I daresay, like I, you will quite understand Alfred Conned the Lion-tamed, and his great to the apostles on the Greek word Szēn alone in the entire twenty-eight books on yourself.