Cobwebs from an Empty Skull

A dog finding a joint of mutton, apparently guarded by a negligent raven, stretched himself before it with an air of intense satisfaction.

“Ah!” said he, alternately smiling and stopping up the smiles with meat, “this is an instrument of salvation to my stomach—­an instrument upon which I love to perform.”

“I beg your pardon!” said the bird; “it was placed there specially for me, by one whose right to so convey it is beyond question, he having legally acquired it by chopping it off the original owner.”

“I detect no flaw in your abstract of title,” replied the dog; “all seems quite regular; but I must not provoke a breach of the peace by lightly relinquishing what I might feel it my duty to resume by violence.  I must have time to consider; and in the meantime I will dine.”

Thereupon he leisurely consumed the property in dispute, shut his eyes, yawned, turned upon his back, thrust out his legs divergently, and died.

For the meat had been carefully poisoned—­a fact of which the raven was guiltily conscious.

There are several things mightier than brute force, and arsenic[A] is one of them.

[Footnote A:  In the original, “pizen;” which might, perhaps, with equal propriety have been rendered by “caper sauce.”—­TRANSLATOR.]