It was passed around, and all examined it with interest.
“What are these things?” the king inquired. “Creatures?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“What kind? How are they called?”
“Sometimes men, sometimes Christians. It is all the same.”
“What are they made of?”
“Flesh and bones, like your majesty’s subjects.”
The tiger reached for the picture and examined it again, with a new interest.
“They look good, these Christians,” he said, licking his lips; “are they good?”
“Better than any other of God’s creatures, my lord. It is their constant boast; it is a cold day when they forget to give themselves that praise.”
The tiger licked his lips again, exhibiting much excitement, and said—
“I would God I had one.”
The lion said—
“It is my thought, brother.”
The gorilla, leaning upon his staff, examined the picture thoughtfully, his great lips retiring from his tushes and exposing a fellowship smile which some of the smaller animals tremble at and wish they were at home.
“They go upright—like me,” he said. “Is it so?”
“They do, my lord.”
“Is it feathers they are covered with—or fur?” inquired the rhinoceros.
“Neither, your grace. It is an artificial material, called clothing. They make it themselves, out of various stuffs, and they can take it off when they want to; their natural covering is fish-skin.”
Everybody was astonished, and said—“It doesn’t belong to them!” “They can take it off!” “They don’t have to put it on, and yet they do!” And the gorilla said, impressively, “Well, I’ll be damned!”
The marabout lifted his skinny lids and gave him a crushing look, and he apologised. A hairless dog remarked—
“One perceives that they live in a cold country; that is why they put it on.”
“No,” observed Reynard; “they put it on in the hottest countries, just the same.”
“Why, that is silly!” said many voices. “Why do they afflict themselves in that way?”
“Because they are ashamed to be seen naked.”
There was a blank look on all the faces. They could not understand this. Then they all began to laugh, and several said—
“Since they can take those things off when they want to, don’t they sometimes want to, and don’t they do it?”
“Yes, often—in privacy.”
There was another great laugh, and many said—
“Don’t they know that God sees them naked?”
“Certainly.”
“Land! and they don’t mind Him? It must be a dirty-minded animal that will be nasty in God’s presence and ashamed to be nasty in the presence of his own kind.”
EDS. NEWS LETTER: Is it not possible that your journal, which is usually more mathematically accurate in its statements than even I am, has made a mistake for once? A paragraph in your last issue suggests this. I append it:
TWAIN will kindly remark that a communication, signed as a communication, does not admit the editorial We. Whereby, a portion of his esteemed favor is unavailable.
I do not remember sending you a communication. I have been too busy of late to write communications to anyone but the person a curl from whose chignon I wear next my heart. Someone has been trying to write himself rich over my signature, and I am glad that his foolish idea that because Twain means two it was good grammar for him to call himself We, wrought his downfall and brought failure upon his imposture. I would not have mentioned this matter but for the fact that I am just now smarting under a thing which makes me particularly bitter against all forms of misstatement whatsoever. Friends of mine are attributing to me a remark which I solemnly protest I never made. It was made by a comrade of mine in the Holy Land. If you will permit me, I will tell the circumstances precisely as they occurred, and thus free myself from any blame in the matter, if there is really anything to be blamed for in it. One of my comrades, “Jack,” was a boy of eighteen, and just as good a boy as ever was. He was an innocent cub, and was always floundering into mistakes that brought him trouble. He was always dropping absurd and ill-timed remarks without ever meaning any harm, and so he was always being scolded and harried and lectured by the pilgrims in the party. They liked him, and knew he meant well, and they did this for his own good, and never in an unkind spirit. In their fervent apostrophes to noted localities, the pilgrims often let fall startling statements that Jack had never heard before, or else had forgotten, and therefore, they surprised him into saying many things whose absurdity he could see when it was too late. Jack always listened attentively, and with a desire to learn. This is the circumstance:
One day when we were camped at Jericho, near the Jordan, a pilgrim said: “Those mountains yonder on the opposite side of the valley, are the Mountains of Moab, where Moses lies secretly buried.”
“Moses who?”
“Jack, if you were not so astonishingly innocent, I would rebuke you for asking such a question. Moses was the great leader of the children of Israel.”
“Oh, I know, now—I recollect. He was a good man—they called him the Meek. Well, what did he do?”
“He led the children of Israel up out of the wilderness.”
“That was good.
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