A long-eared jackrabbit sat erect upon his haunches in solemn dignity, acting as umpire to the coyotes’ prize-fight; while his cousin, the little cotton-tail rabbit, nibbled at some tender twigs that grew near by. A rattlesnake was curled up in the sunniest place to be found, and his companions, the cunning brown prairie dog and the little grey owl, sat near by. Sand lizards flashed here and there beneath the plum bushes, and the guest of honor—a huge mountain lion—lay dozing within the shelter of the thicket. Blue jays, blackbirds, brown thrushes, scarlet-coated redbirds, sparrows and yellowhammers flitted from bush to tree; meadow larks trilled their cheerful song; while up on the topmost twig of a tall cottonwood tree a mockingbird swung in the wind and poured his whole soul through his little throat in a wonderful stream of melody. All the delegates of the animal world being at last assembled, the jackrabbit—in consideration of his dignity—was made master of ceremonies, and called the assembly to order in the following words: “My honorable friends, the birds and beasts and reptiles of Kansas: We have assembled here today to hold a sort of Thanksgiving service. “Once every year men gather themselves together to count over the good things that have come to them, and to congratulate one another over the evils they have missed. “It may occur to some of you that we birds and beasts have little for which to be thankful in these days when dogs and men are so numerous, and when life is attended with so many privations and dangers. But, upon careful thought, I think each one present will be able to add an item to our list of blessings of the past year that will encourage us through the winter days so near at hand. “Our friend and guest, the mountain lion, will please to address us.” The mountain lion opened his fierce eyes, stretched his huge paws, rose slowly to his feet, and shook the sand from his rough coat. In spite of the truce of the occasion, the smaller animals eyed him with evident terror, and the prairie chickens fluttered their wings as if ready to fly away from so dangerous a neighbor. “What have I to be thankful for?” the lion asked in harsh tones. “I am thankful that I have come through the year with a whole hide in spite of dogs and guns and men. I am thankful that dogs are afraid of me, and that men dare not attack me single-handed. I am thankful that after all my wanderings from the solitudes of the Indian Territory mountains, I have found this comparatively safe retreat among these sandhills and plum thickets. Calves, and pigs, and chickens—and rabbits—have been abundant; so I have no cause to complain of poor living. Kansas would be paradise if it contained neither dogs nor men.” He ground out the last sentence with a growl which would have caused both dogs and men to tremble if they had heard it, then lay down and resumed his nap beneath the bushes.