"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." "May I inquire how it happens to be any of your business whether I bellow or bray, or do both--or neither?" "I cannot tell you," answered the critic, shaking his head despondingly; "I do not at all understand it. I can only say that I have been accustomed to censure all discourse that differs from my own." "Exactly," said the ass; "you have sought to make an art of impertinence by mistaking preferences for principles. In 'taste' you have invented a word incapable of definition, to denote an idea impossible of expression; and by employing in connection therewith the words 'good' and 'bad,' you indicate a merely subjective process in terms of an objective quality. Such presumption transcends the limit of the merely impudent, and passes into the boundless empyrean of pure cheek!" At the close of this remarkable harangue, the bovine critic was at a loss for language to express his disapproval. So he said the speech was in bad taste. CXI. A bloated toad, studded with dermal excrescences, was boasting that she was the wartiest creature alive. "Perhaps you are," said her auditor, emerging from the soil; "but it is a barren and superficial honour. Look at me: I am one solid mole!" CXII. "It is very difficult getting on in the world," sighed a weary snail; "very difficult indeed, with such high rents!" "You don't mean to say you pay anything for that old rookery!" said a slug, who was characteristically insinuating himself between the stems of the celery intended for dinner. "A miserable old shanty like that, without stables, grounds, or any modern conveniences!" "Pay!" said the snail, contemptuously; "I'd like to see you get a semi-detatched villa like this at a nominal rate!" "Why don't you let your upper apartments to a respectable single party?" urged the slug. The answer is not recorded. CXIII. A hare, pursued by a dog, sought sanctuary in the den of a wolf. It being after business hours, the latter was at home to him. "Ah!" panted the hare; "how very fortunate! I feel quite safe here, for you dislike dogs quite as much as I do."