the last year of
his consulate, (but unfortunately, like Ulysses, without a witness,) a
lordly lion: as there was no embalmer on the spot, he simply flayed his
victim, and preserved the skin with spice till his return last year, when
the wish naturally arose to have the lion mounted after the most approved
models, in order that the dimensions of the body and the respective length
of tusks, tail, and claws, might appear to the best advantage, making it
very evident that this had been a lion that none but Hercules or a
Brazilian consul would have ventured to cope with. On making inquiries for
an accomplished embalmer, our diplomatist unfortunately stumbles upon a
Frenchman--a gentleman of rare accomplishments, as they all are, perfectly
versed, by his own account, in that ancient Egyptian art in all its
branches; this man, on seeing the skin, takes care duly to appreciate the
courage of the consul in killing so immense a beast, whom he promises
forthwith to restore to his pristine dimensions and fierceness of
physiognomy; his adroitness is rewarded by _carte blanche_, to purchase
any amount of spices and cotton he may require, and his _honoraire_ is
fixed at fifty _scudi_ on the completion of the job. Hoping to increase
the family satisfaction by showing them the lion once again on his legs,
without their previously witnessing the steps by which this was to be
effected, he requests that in the interval no one would visit the
workshop." "Mind you make him big enough;" says the Consul, signing the
contract. "_Laissez-moi faire_," rejoins the other. After three weeks'
mystery, the artist sends for his employer, who, speedily obeying the
summons, finds the exhibition-room arranged for a surprise, and the
Frenchman in anticipation of an assured triumph, rubbing his hands before
a curtain, on the other side of which is the object of this visit.
"_Hortense, levez la toile!_" says the Frenchman, giving the word of
command. Hortense does as he is bid; up goes the curtain, and the Consul
beholds his old friend, not only with a new face but with a new body:
whereat, astounded and aghast,--"That's not, _my_ lion, sir," says the
Brazilian. "How, sir, not _your_ lion; whose lion then?--you are
facetious." "_I_ facetious, sir," _roars_ the impatient lion-killer, "and
what should make _me_ facetious?" "I have the honour to tell you, sir,
that this is your lion," says the Frenchman chafing in his turn. "And I
have the _honour_ to tell you,