Fantastic Fables by Bierce, Ambrose, 1842-1914?
Fantastic Fables by Bierce, Ambrose, 1842-1914?
Fantastic Fables by Bierce, Ambrose, 1842-1914?
By AMBROSE BIERCE
author of “tales of soldiers and civilians,” “can such things be?” “black beetles in amber,” etc.
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
new york and london
The Knickerbocker Press 1899
Contents:
The Moral Principle and the Material Interest
Two Kings
The Politicians
The Critics
A Call to Quit
FANTASTIC FABLES 1
Fantastic Fables
A Protagonist of Silver
A Hasty Settlement
The Flying-Machine
An Invitation
The Life-Savers
Contents: 2
Fantastic Fables
The Pavior
A Causeway
Two in Trouble
Physicians Two
A Racial Parallel
A Matter of Method
Religions of Error
Contents: 3
Fantastic Fables
A Prophet of Evil
A Treaty of Peace
The No Case
A Harmless Visitor
An Inflated Ambition
Rejected Services
At Large—One Temper
Contents: 4
Fantastic Fables
A Forfeited Right
Revenge
An Optimist
A Valuable Suggestion
Two Footpads
At the Pole
An Unspeakable Imbecile
A Needful War
The Rainmaker
A Smiling Idol
Philosophers Three
Uncalculating Zeal
Contents: 5
Fantastic Fables
A Transposition
A Creaking Tail
Wasted Sweets
At Heaven’s Gate
An Inadequate Fee
A Statesman
Two Dogs
Three Recruits
The Mirror
An Antidote
A Weary Echo
A Talisman
A Fatal Disorder
The Massacre
Contents: 6
Fantastic Fables
Two Politicians
An Ærophobe
The Life-Saver
Three of a Kind
A Revivalist Revived
The Debaters
A Needless Labour
A Flourishing Industry
Contents: 7
Fantastic Fables
Aesopus Emendatus
The Cat and the Youth
Aesopus Emendatus 8
Fantastic Fables
A Seasonable Joke
Aesopus Emendatus 9
Fantastic Fables
“Down, you base thing!” thundered the Moral Principle, “and let me pass over you!”
The Material Interest merely looked in the other’s eyes without saying anything.
“Ah,” said the Moral Principle, hesitatingly, “let us draw lots to see which shall retire till the other has
crossed.”
“In order to avoid a conflict,” the Moral Principle resumed, somewhat uneasily, “I shall myself lie down and
let you walk over me.”
Then the Material Interest found a tongue, and by a strange coincidence it was its own tongue. “I don’t think
you are very good walking,” it said. “I am a little particular about what I have underfoot. Suppose you
get off into the water.”
“I am about to leave you forever; give me, therefore, one last proof of your affection and fidelity, for,
according to our holy religion, a married man seeking admittance at the gate of Heaven is required to swear
that he has never defiled himself with an unworthy woman. In my desk you will find a crimson candle, which
has been blessed by the High Priest and has a peculiar mystical significance. Swear to me that while it is in
existence you will not remarry.”
The Woman swore and the Man died. At the funeral the Woman stood at the head of the bier, holding a
lighted crimson candle till it was wasted entirely away.
“Mr. Speaker, I wish to hurl back an allegation and explain that the spots upon me are the natural
markings of one who is a direct descendant of the sun and a spotted fawn. They come of no accident of
character, but inhere in the divine order and constitution of things.”
When the Blotted Escutcheon had resumed his seat a Soiled Ermine rose and said:
“Mr. Speaker, I have heard with profound attention and entire approval the explanation of the
honourable member, and wish to offer a few remarks on my own behalf. I, too, have been foully calumniated
by our ancient enemy, the Infamous Falsehood, and I wish to point out that I am made of the fur of the
Mustela maculata, which is dirty from birth.”
“May it please your Majesty, I have here a formula for constructing armour-plating which no gun can
pierce. If these plates are adopted in the Royal Navy our warships will be invulnerable, and therefore
invincible. Here, also, are reports of your Majesty’s Ministers, attesting the value of the invention. I
will part with my right in it for a million tumtums.”
After examining the papers, the King put them away and promised him an order on the Lord High Treasurer
of the Extortion Department for a million tumtums.
“And here,” said the Ingenious Patriot, pulling another paper from another pocket, “are
the working plans of a gun that I have invented, which will pierce that armour. Your Majesty’s Royal
Brother, the Emperor of Bang, is anxious to purchase it, but loyalty to your Majesty’s throne and
person constrains me to offer it first to your Majesty. The price is one million tumtums.”
Having received the promise of another check, he thrust his hand into still another pocket, remarking:
“The price of the irresistible gun would have been much greater, your Majesty, but for the fact that its
missiles can be so effectively averted by my peculiar method of treating the armour plates with a
new—”
“Search this man,” he said, “and report how many pockets he has.”
“Forty-three, Sire,” said the Great Head Factotum, completing the scrutiny.
“May it please your Majesty,” cried the Ingenious Patriot, in terror, “one of them
contains tobacco.”
“Hold him up by the ankles and shake him,” said the King; “then give him a check for
forty-two million tumtums and put him to death. Let a decree issue declaring ingenuity a capital
offence.”
Two Kings
The King of Madagao, being engaged in a dispute with the King of Bornegascar, wrote him as follows:
“Before proceeding further in this matter I demand the recall of your Minister from my capital.”
“I shall not recall my Minister. Moreover, if you do not immediately retract your demand I shall
withdraw him!”
This threat so terrified the King of Madagao that in hastening to comply he fell over his own feet, breaking the
Third Commandment.
“Don’t be too hard on me,” said the Officer, smiling; “I was beating him with a
stuffed club.”
“Nevertheless,” persisted the Chief of Police, “it was a liberty that must have been very
disagreeable, though it may not have hurt. Please do not repeat it.”
“But,” said the Officer, still smiling, “it was a stuffed Thug.”
In attempting to express his gratification, the Chief of Police thrust out his right hand with such violence that
his skin was ruptured at the arm-pit and a stream of sawdust poured from the wound. He was a stuffed Chief
of Police.
“Good Heavens!” he cried; “there are more accidents on my division than on all the rest
of the line.”
“The President is very particular,” said the Man who brought him the news; “he thinks
the same loss of life might be effected with less damage to the company’s property.”
“Does he expect me to shoot passengers through the car windows?” exclaimed the indignant
official, spiking a loose tie across the rails. “Does he take me for an assassin?”
“A new frown,” was the answer. “I am bringing it from the frownery—the one
over there with the gilded steeple.”
“And what are you going to do with the nice new frown?” the Pugilist asked.
“Put down pugilism—if I have to wear it night and day,” said the Moral Sentiment of the
Community, sternly.
“Is that so?” cried the Moral Sentiment of the Community, with sudden animation.
“Which licked? Sit down here on the hat-box and tell me all about it!”
The Politicians
An Old Politician and a Young Politician were travelling through a beautiful country, by the dusty highway
which leads to the City of Prosperous Obscurity. Lured by the flowers and the shade and charmed by the
songs of birds which invited to woodland paths and green fields, his imagination fired by glimpses of golden
domes and glittering palaces in the distance on either hand, the Young Politician said:
“Let us, I beseech thee, turn aside from this comfortless road leading, thou knowest whither, but not I.
Let us turn our backs upon duty and abandon ourselves to the delights and advantages which beckon from
every grove and call to us from every shining hill. Let us, if so thou wilt, follow this beautiful path, which, as
thou seest, hath a guide-board saying, ‘Turn in here all ye who seek the Palace of Political
Distinction.’”
“It is a beautiful path, my son,” said the Old Politician, without either slackening his pace or
turning his head, “and it leadeth among pleasant scenes. But the search for the Palace of Political
Distinction is beset with one mighty peril.”
“The peril of finding it,” the Old Politician replied, pushing on.
“Those locks can all be opened from the inside—you are very imprudent.”
The Warden did not look up from his work, but said:
“If that is called imprudence, I wonder what would be called a thoughtful provision against the
vicissitudes of fortune.”
“You seem to know something about parliamentary forms of speech,” said the Two Arms.
“Yes,” replied the Public Treasury, “I am familiar with the hauls of legislation.”
“I have been bitten by the editor of a partisan journal,” was the reply, accompanied by the
ominous death-rattle.
“High and mighty Wampog and fellow-citizens, I have listened attentively to all the plans proposed.
All seem wise, and I do not suffer myself to doubt that any one of them would be efficacious. Nevertheless, I
cannot help thinking that if we would put an improved breed of polliwogs in our drinking water, construct
shallower roadways, groom the street cows, offer the stranger within our gates a free choice between the
poniard and the potion, and relinquish our private system of morals, the other measures of public safety would
be needless.”
The Aged Man was about to speak further, but the meeting informally adjourned in order to sweep the floor of
the temple—for the men of Gakwak are the tidiest housewives in all that province. The last speaker
was the broom.
The Critics
While bathing, Antinous was seen by Minerva, who was so enamoured of his beauty that, all armed as she
happened to be, she descended from Olympus to woo him; but, unluckily displaying her shield, with the head
of Medusa on it, she had the unhappiness to see the beautiful mortal turn to stone from catching a glimpse of
it. She straightway ascended to ask Jove to restore him; but before this could be done a Sculptor and a Critic
passed that way and espied him.
“This is a very bad Apollo,” said the Sculptor: “the chest is too narrow, and one arm is
at least a half-inch shorter than the other. The attitude is unnatural, and I may say impossible. Ah! my friend,
you should see my statue of Antinous.”
“In my judgment, the figure,” said the Critic, “is tolerably good, though rather Etrurian,
but the expression of the face is decidedly Tuscan, and therefore false to nature. By the way, have you read
“Because,” replied the Married Woman, “he was a wicked man, and had purchased a
ticket to Chicago.”
“My sister,” said an adjacent Man of God, solemnly, “you cannot stop the wicked from
going to Chicago by killing them.”
No sooner had the Son promised than he received a stinging blow from the paternal walking-stick, and by the
time he had counted to seventy-five had the unhappiness to see the old man jump into a waiting cab and whirl
away.
“Your Honour,” said the Malefactor, interrupting, “would you be kind enough to alter
my punishment to ten years in the penitentiary and nothing else?”
“Why,” said the Judge, surprised, “I have given you only three years!”
A Call to Quit
Seeing that his audiences were becoming smaller every Sunday, a Minister of the Gospel broke off in the
midst of a sermon, descended the pulpit stairs, and walked on his hands down the central aisle of the church.
He then remounted his feet, ascended to the pulpit, and resumed his discourse, making no allusion to the
incident.
“Now,” said he to himself, as he went home, “I shall have, henceforth, a large
attendance and no snoring.”
The Critics 16
Fantastic Fables
But on the following Friday he was waited upon by the Pillars of the Church, who informed him that in order
to be in harmony with the New Theology and get full advantage of modern methods of Gospel interpretation
they had deemed it advisable to make a change. They had therefore sent a call to Brother Jowjeetum-Fallal,
the World-Renowned Hindoo Human Pin-Wheel, then holding forth in Hoopitup’s circus. They were
happy to say that the reverend gentleman had been moved by the Spirit to accept the call, and on the ensuing
Sabbath would break the bread of life for the brethren or break his neck in the attempt.
“You see,” said the Lightning, as it crept past him inch by inch, “I can travel
considerably faster than you.”
“Yes,” the Man Running for Office replied, “but think how much longer I keep
going!”
“It will be some five or ten minutes,” said the Showman, “before I shall want a fresh
Bear, and it looks to me as if prices would fall during that time. I think I’ll wait and watch the
market.”
“The price of this animal,” the Hunter replied, “is down to bed-rock; you can have him
for nothing a pound, spot cash, and I’ll throw in the next one that I lasso. But the purchaser must
remove the goods from the premises forthwith, to make room for three man-eating tigers, a cat-headed gorilla,
and an armful of rattlesnakes.”
But the Showman passed on, in maiden meditation, fancy free, and being joined soon afterward by the Bear,
who was absently picking his teeth, it was inferred that they were not unacquainted.
“You wallow fairly well,” said the Pig, “but, my fine fellow, you have much to learn
about rooting.”
A Call to Quit 17
Fantastic Fables
A Protagonist of Silver
Some Financiers who were whetting their tongues on their teeth because the Government had “struck
down” silver, and were about to “inaugurate” a season of sweatshed, were addressed as
follows by a Member of their honourable and warlike body:
“Comrades of the thunder and companions of death, I cannot but regard it as singularly fortunate that
we who by conviction and sympathy are designated by nature as the champions of that fairest of her products,
the white metal, should also, by a happy chance, be engaged mostly in the business of mining it. Nothing
could be more appropriate than that those who from unselfish motives and elevated sentiments are doing
battle for the people’s rights and interests, should themselves be the chief beneficiaries of success.
Therefore, O children of the earthquake and the storm, let us stand shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart, and
pocket to pocket!”
This speech so pleased the other Members of the convention that, actuated by a magnanimous impulse, they
sprang to their feet and left the hall. It was the first time they had ever been known to leave anything having
value.
“Brother, these people know you, and your active support will bear fruit abundantly. Please pass the
plate for me, and you shall have one fourth.”
The Holy Deacon did so, and putting the money into his pocket waited till the congregation was dismissed
and said goodnight.
“But the money, brother, the money that you collected!” said the Itinerant Preacher.
“Nothing is coming to you,” was the reply; “the Adversary has hardened their hearts,
and one fourth is all they gave.”
A Hasty Settlement
“Your Honour,” said an Attorney, rising, “what is the present status of this
case—as far as it has gone?”
“I have given a judgment for the residuary legatee under the will,” said the Court, “put
the costs upon the contestants, decided all questions relating to fees and other charges; and, in short, the estate
in litigation has been settled, with all controversies, disputes, misunderstandings, and differences of opinion
thereunto appertaining.”
“Ah, yes, I see,” said the Attorney, thoughtfully, “we are making progress—we
are getting on famously.”
A Protagonist of Silver 18
Fantastic Fables
“Exactly, exactly; it had to be concluded in order to give relevancy to the motion that I am about to
make. Your Honour, I move that the judgment of the Court be set aside and the case reopened.”
“Upon the ground,” said the Attorney, “that after paying all fees and expenses of
litigation and all charges against the estate there will still be something left.”
“There may have been an error,” said His Honour, thoughtfully—“the Court may
have underestimated the value of the estate. The motion is taken under advisement.”
“It shall not be said that I sacrificed efficiency to economy,” said the Governor. “You
shall have real guns.”
“Thank you, thank you,” cried the warriors, effusively. “We will take good care of
them, and in the event of war return them to the arsenal.”
“Who are you,” said the King, “and what is your business in life?”
“Snouter the Sneak,” replied the Object, with ready invention; “pick-pocket.”
The King was about to command him to be released when the Prime Minister suggested that the
prisoner’s fingers be examined. They were found greatly flattened and calloused at the ends.
“Ha!” cried the King; “I told you so!—he is addicted to counting syllables. This
is a poet. Turn him over to the Lord High Dissuader from the Head Habit.”
“My liege,” said the Inventor-in-Ordinary of Ingenious Penalties, “I venture to suggest a
keener affliction.
A Hasty Settlement 19
Fantastic Fables
It was so ordered.
“That,” said the Assistant Pocketer of Deposits, “is one of our liabilities.”
“A liability?” exclaimed the Noser. “Nay, nay, an asset. That is what you mean,
doubtless.”
“Therein you err,” the Pocketer explained; “that note was written in the bank with our
own pen, ink, and paper, and we have not paid a stationery bill for six months.”
“Ah, I see,” the Noser said, thoughtfully; “it is a liability. May I ask how you expect to
meet it?”
“With fortitude, please God,” answered the Assistant Pocketer, his eyes to Heaven
raising—“with fortitude and a firm reliance on the laxity of the law.”
“Enough, enough,” exclaimed the faithful servant of the State, choking with emotion;
“here is a certificate of solvency.”
“And here is a bottle of ink,” the grateful financier said, slipping it into the other’s
pocket; “it is all that we have.”
“Well,” said the monarch, observing her inspection of the royal person, “how do you
like me?”
“I can imagine a King,” said the Cat, “whom I should like better.”
“For example?”
The sovereign was so pleased with the wit of the reply that he gave her permission to scratch his Prime
Minister’s eyes out.
“How much?” said the Editor, sententiously, without looking up from his essay on the
circularity of the political horizon.
“One hundred and sixty dollars,” replied the man who had discovered the moon.
“Generous man!” cried the Astronomer, glowing with warm and elevated sentiments,
“pay me, then, what you will.”
“Great and good friend,” said the Editor, blandly, looking up from his work, “we are far
asunder, it seems. The paying is to be done by you.”
The Director of the Observatory gathered up the manuscript and went away, explaining that it needed
correction; he had neglected to dot an m.
“How are you getting on, brother?” the Man called out to the other reptile, without removing
his eyes from those of the Lion.
“Admirably,” replied the serpent. “My success is assured; my victim draws nearer and
nearer in spite of her efforts.”
“And mine,” said the Man, “draws nearer and nearer in spite of mine. Are you sure it is
all right?”
“If you don’t think so,” the reptile replied as well as he then could, with his mouth full
of bird, “you better give it up.”
A half-hour later, the Lion, thoughtfully picking his teeth with his claws, told the Rattlesnake that he had
never in all his varied experience in being subdued, seen a subduer try so earnestly to give it up.
“But,” he added, with a wide, significant smile, “I looked him into countenance.”
When the Stranger with a Club was brought to trial, the complainant said to the Judge:
“I do not know why I was assaulted; I have not an enemy in the world.”
“Let the prisoner be discharged,” said the Judge; “a man who has no enemies has no
friends. The courts are not for such.”
“Yes,” replied the Raccoon, “and I hear quite a number of tales on your ring.”
The Alderman, being of a sensitive, retiring disposition, shrank from further comparison, and, strolling to
another part of the garden, stole the camel.
The Flying-Machine
An Ingenious Man who had built a flying-machine invited a great concourse of people to see it go up. At the
appointed moment, everything being ready, he boarded the car and turned on the power. The machine
immediately broke through the massive substructure upon which it was builded, and sank out of sight into the
earth, the aeronaut springing out barely in time to save himself.
“Well,” said he, “I have done enough to demonstrate the correctness of my details. The
defects,” he added, with a look at the ruined brick-work, “are merely basic and
fundamental.”
Upon this assurance the people came forward with subscriptions to build a second machine.
So saying, he let fall a great tear, which, encountering in its descent a current of cold air, was congealed into a
hail-stone. This struck the Unworthy Man on the head and set him rubbing that bruised organ vigorously with
one hand while vainly attempting to expand an umbrella with the other.
Thereat the Angel of Compassion did most shamelessly and wickedly laugh.
“About how much do you thank me?” was the reply. “Do you suppose I am here for my
health?”
As Jamrach had not become rich by stupidity, he handed something to his guide and hastened on, and soon
came to a toll-gate kept by a Benevolent Gentleman, to whom he gave something, and was suffered to pass.
A little farther along he came to a bridge across an imaginary stream, where a Civil Engineer (who had built
the bridge) demanded something for interest on his investment, and it was forthcoming. It was growing late
when Jamrach came to the margin of what appeared to be a lake of black ink, and there the road terminated.
Seeing a Ferryman in his boat he paid something for his passage and was about to embark.
“No,” said the Ferryman. “Put your neck in this noose, and I will tow you over. It is the
only way,” he added, seeing that the passenger was about to complain of the accommodations.
In due time he was dragged across, half strangled, and dreadfully beslubbered by the feculent waters.
“There,” said the Ferryman, hauling him ashore and disengaging him, “you are now in
the City of Political Distinction. It has fifty millions of inhabitants, and as the colour of the Filthy Pool does
not wash off, they all look exactly alike.”
“Alas!” exclaimed Jamrach, weeping and bewailing the loss of all his possessions, paid out in
tips and tolls; “I will go back with you.”
“I don’t think you will,”, said the Ferryman, pushing off; “this city is situated on
the Island of the Unreturning.”
“I heard you ask that Party Over There the same question,” said the Grave Person.
“What answer did he give you?”
“He said it was about three o’clock,” replied the Man in a Hurry; “but he did not
look at his watch, and as the sun is nearly down, I think it is later.”
“The fact that the sun is nearly down,” the Grave Person said, “is immaterial, but the
fact that he did not consult his timepiece and make answer after due deliberation and consideration is fatal.
The answer given,” continued the Grave Person, consulting his own timepiece, “is of no effect,
invalid, and absurd.”
“What, then,” said the Man in a Hurry, eagerly, “is the time of day?”
“The question is remanded to the Party Over There for a new answer,” replied the Grave
Person, returning his watch to his pocket and moving away with great dignity.
“After centuries of oppression I have wrested my rights from the grasp of the jealous gods. On earth I
was the Poetess of Reform, and sang to inattentive ears. Now for an eternity of honour and glory.”
But it was not to be so, and soon she was the unhappiest of mortals, vainly desirous to wander again in gloom
by the infernal lakes. For Jove had not bedeviled her ears, and she heard from the lips of each blessed Shade
an incessant flow of quotation from his own works. Moreover, she was denied the happiness of repeating her
poems. She could not recall a line of them, for Jove had decreed that the memory of them abide in
Pluto’s painful domain, as a part of the apparatus.
“Ah, yes, I understand,” said the King; “you have been promoted and given increased
pay and allowances. There was an appropriation?”
Thoughtfully removing his crown and scratching the royal head, the monarch was silent a moment, and then
he said:
“I fancy that appropriation has been misapplied. You seem to be about the same kind of idiot that you
were before.”
An Invitation
A Pious Person who had overcharged his paunch with dead bird by way of attesting his gratitude for escaping
the many calamities which Heaven had sent upon others, fell asleep at table and dreamed. He thought he
lived in a country where turkeys were the ruling class, and every year they held a feast to manifest their sense
of Heaven’s goodness in sparing their lives to kill them later. One day, about a week before one of
these feasts, he met the Supreme Gobbler, who said:
“You will please get yourself into good condition for the Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Yes, your Excellency,” replied the Pious Person, delighted, “I shall come hungry, I
assure you. It is no small privilege to dine with your Excellency.”
The Supreme Gobbler eyed him for a moment in silence; then he said:
“As one of the lower domestic animals, you cannot be expected to know much, but you might know
something. Since you do not, you will permit me to point out that being asked to dinner is one thing; being
asked to dine is another and a different thing.”
With this significant remark the Supreme Gobbler left him, and thenceforward the Pious Person dreamed of
himself as white meat and dark until rudely awakened by decapitation.
“If I hold on,” he said to himself, “I shall be swallowed; if I let go I shall break my
neck.”
“My perfected friend,” he said, “my parental instinct recognises in you a noble evidence
and illustration of the theory of development. You are the Opossum of the Future, the ultimate Fittest
Survivor of our species, the ripe result of progressive prehensility—all tail!”
An Invitation 25
Fantastic Fables
But the Snake, proud of his ancient eminence in Scriptural history, was strictly orthodox, and did not accept
the scientific view.
The Life-Savers
Seventy-Five Men presented themselves before the President of the Humane Society and demanded the great
gold medal for life-saving.
“Why, yes,” said the President; “by diligent effort so many men must have saved a
considerable number of lives. How many did you save?”
“Ah, yes, that is one each—very good work—very good work, indeed,” the
President said. “You shall not only have the Society’s great gold medal, but its
recommendation for employment at the various life-boat stations along the coast. But how did you save so
many lives?”
“We are officers of the law, and have just returned from the pursuit of two murderous outlaws.”
“No, not very wide,” the Guide answered; “about the same as in England and
America.”
“The hay which we shall purchase for our horses this evening—I shall expect to find the stalks
about fifty feet long. Am I right?”
“Why, no,” said the Guide; “a foot or two is about the usual length of our hay. What
can you be thinking of?”
The Distinguished Naturalist made no immediate reply, but later, as in the shades of night they journeyed
through the desolate vastness of the Great Lone Land, he broke the silence:
“I was thinking,” he said, “of the uncommon magnitude of that grasshopper.”
The Pavior
An Author saw a Labourer hammering stones into the pavement of a street, and approaching him said:
“Well, cheer up,” the Author resumed; “fame comes at the most unexpected times.
To-day you are poor, obscure, and disheartened, and to-morrow the world may be ringing with your
name.”
“What are you giving me?” the Labourer said. “Cannot an honest pavior perform his
work in peace, and get his money for it, and his living by it, without others talking rot about ambition and
hopes of fame?”
“Let the trial proceed—your motion is denied,” said the Judge. “An Assassin is
not in jeopardy when tried in California.”
“My great and good friends,” he said to his brother sovereigns, “it will be advantageous
to you to learn that some questions are more complex and perilous than others, presenting a greater number of
points upon which it is possible to differ. For four generations your royal predecessors disputed about
possession of that island, without falling out. Beware, oh, beware the perils of international
arbitration!—against which I feel it my duty to protect you henceforth.”
So saying, he annexed both countries, and after a long, peaceful, and happy reign was poisoned by his Prime
Minister.
The Pavior 27
Fantastic Fables
“My sons,” said Apollo, “I will part the prizes between you. You,” he said to the
First Poet, “excel in Art—take the Apple. And you,” he said to the Second Poet,
“in Imagination—take the Bone.”
“To Art the best prize!” said the First Poet, triumphantly, and endeavouring to devour his award
broke all his teeth. The Apple was a work of Art.
“That shows our Master’s contempt for mere Art,” said the Second Poet, grinning.
Thereupon he attempted to gnaw his Bone, but his teeth passed through it without resistance. It was an
imaginary Bone.
“If I had been a scoundrel,” answered the Shadow, increasing its speed, “I should not
have left you.”
“Very well,” said the Friend, “I will go with you. Lead on.”
“Lead?” exclaimed the other. “What! I precede so great and illustrious a rat as you?
No, indeed—after you, sir, after you.”
Pleased with this great show of deference, the Friend went ahead, and, leaving the hole first, was caught by
the Cat, who immediately trotted away with him. The other then went out unmolested.
“Very tired,” replied Pride, seating himself on a stone by the wayside and mopping his
steaming brow. “The politicians are wearing me out by pointing to their dirty records with me, when
they could as well use a stick.”
“It is pretty much the same way here. Instead of using an opera-glass they view the acts of their
opponents with me!”
As these patient drudges were mingling their tears, they were notified that they must go on duty again, for one
of the political parties had nominated a thief and was about to hold a gratification meeting.
A Causeway
A Rich Woman having returned from abroad disembarked at the foot of Knee-deep Street, and was about to
walk to her hotel through the mud.
“Madam,” said a Policeman, “I cannot permit you to do that; you would soil your shoes
and stockings.”
“Oh, that is of no importance, really,” replied the Rich Woman, with a cheerful smile.
“But, madam, it is needless; from the wharf to the hotel, as you observe, extends an unbroken line of
prostrate newspaper men who crave the honour of having you walk upon them.”
“In that case,” she said, seating herself in a doorway and unlocking her satchel, “I shall
have to put on my rubber boots.”
Two in Trouble
Meeting a fat and patriotic Statesman on his way to Washington to beseech the President for an office, an idle
Tramp accosted him and begged twenty-five cents with which to buy a suit of clothes.
“Melancholy wreck,” said the Statesman, “what brought you to this state of
degradation? Liquor, I suppose.”
“I am temperate to the verge of absurdity,” replied the Tramp. “My foible was
patriotism; I was ruined by the baneful habit of trying to serve my country. What ruined you?”
“Indolence.”
“Very well,” said the Witch, “I will give you work in which you will be associated with
intellect—you will come in contact with brains. I shall present you to a housewife.”
“What!” said the Broomstick, “do you consider the hands of a housewife
intellectual?”
“I referred,” said the Witch, “to the head of her good man.”
“It is very true,” said the Poodle, with austere dignity, “that I am small; but, sir, I beg to
observe that I am all dog.”
“For example,” said the Great Philanthropist, watching the teardrops pattering in the dust,
“these early rains are of incalculable advantage to the farmer.”
Physicians Two
A Wicked Old Man finding himself ill sent for a Physician, who prescribed for him and went away. Then the
Wicked Old Man sent for another Physician, saying nothing of the first, and an entirely different treatment
was ordered. This continued for some weeks, the physicians visiting him on alternate days and treating him
for two different disorders, with constantly enlarging doses of medicine and more and more rigorous nursing.
But one day they accidently met at his bedside while he slept, and the truth coming out a violent quarrel
ensued.
“My good friends,” said the patient, awakened by the noise of the dispute, and apprehending
the cause of it, “pray be more reasonable. If I could for weeks endure you both, can you not for a little
Two in Trouble 30
Fantastic Fables
while endure each other? I have been well for ten days, but have remained in bed in the hope of gaining by
repose the strength that would justify me in taking your medicines. So far I have touched none of it.”
“Alas!” he exclaimed, contemplating the melancholy result, “had I but chosen a mate for
myself with half the care that I did for my Dog I should now be a proud and happy father.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” said the Dog, overhearing the lament. “There’s
a difference, certainly, between your whelps and mine, but I venture to flatter myself that it is not due
altogether to the mothers. You and I are not entirely alike ourselves.”
A Racial Parallel
Some White Christians engaged in driving Chinese Heathens out of an American town found a newspaper
published in Peking in the Chinese tongue, and compelled one of their victims to translate an editorial. It
turned out to be an appeal to the people of the Province of Pang Ki to drive the foreign devils out of the
country and burn their dwellings and churches. At this evidence of Mongolian barbarity the White Christians
were so greatly incensed that they carried out their original design.
“Your Honour,” said the Robber, “I could do no otherwise than take the money, for
Allah made me that way.”
“Your defence is ingenious and sound,” said the Cadi, “and I must acquit you of
criminality. Unfortunately, Allah has made me so that I must also take off your head—unless,”
he added, thoughtfully, “you offer me half of the gold; for He made me weak under
temptation.”
Thereupon the Robber put five hundred pieces of gold into the Cadi’s hand.
“Good,” said the Cadi. “I shall now remove but one half your head. To show my trust
in your discretion I shall leave intact the half you talk with.”
“Your costume looks as if you might have come out of the penitentiary.”
Physicians Two 31
Fantastic Fables
“Appearances are deceitful,” replied the Zebra, smiling in the consciousness of a more
insupportable wit, “or I should have to think that you had come out of the Legislature.”
A Matter of Method
A Philosopher seeing a Fool beating his Donkey, said:
“Abstain, my son, abstain, I implore. Those who resort to violence shall suffer from violence.”
“That,” said the Fool, diligently belabouring the animal, “is what I’m trying to
teach this beast—which has kicked me.”
“Doubtless,” said the Philosopher to himself, as he walked away, “the wisdom of fools
is no deeper nor truer than ours, but they really do seem to have a more impressive way of imparting
it.”
“Why, my dear sir,” said the Keeper, “if you fear to get wet, you’d better creep
into the pouch of yonder female kangaroo—the Saltarix mackintosha—for if that ostrich wakes
he will kick you to death in a minute.”
“I can’t help that,” the Man of Principle replied, with that lofty scorn of practical
considerations distinguishing his species. “He may kick me to death if he wish, but until he does he
shall give me shelter from the storm. He has swallowed my umbrella.”
“Whence do you come?” Saint Peter asked when the Man presented himself at the gate of
Heaven.
When the Man had vanished inside, Saint Peter took his memorandum-tablet and made the following entry:
“You cruel beast!” cried he. “Why don’t you kill it at once, like a lady?”
Rising, he kicked the cat out of the door, and picking up the mouse compassionately put it out of its misery by
pulling off its head. Recalled to the bedside by the moans of his patient, the Kind-hearted Physician
administered a stimulant, a tonic, and a nutrient, and went away.
“I wish you a merry Christmas,” said the First Blighted Being, in a voice like that of a singing
tomb.
“And I you a happy New Year,” responded the Second Blighted Being, with the accent of a
penitent accordeon.
They then fell upon each other’s neck and wept scalding rills down each other’s spine in token
of their banishment to the Realm of Ineffable Bosh. For one of these accursed creatures was the First of
January, and the other the Twenty-fifth of December.
“I held a high office,” the Convict humbly replied, “and sold subordinate
appointments.”
“Then I decline to interfere,” said the Governor, with asperity; “a man who abuses his
office by making it serve a private end and purvey a personal advantage is unfit to be free. By the way, Mr.
Warden,” he added to that official, as the Convict slunk away, “in appointing you to this
position, I was given to understand that your friends could make the Shikane county delegation to the next
State convention solid for—for the present Administration. Was I rightly informed?”
“Very well, then, I will bid you good-day. Please be so good as to appoint my nephew Night Chaplain
and Reminder of Mothers and Sisters.”
Religions of Error
Hearing a sound of strife, a Christian in the Orient asked his Dragoman the cause of it.
“The Buddhists are cutting Mohammedan throats,” the Dragoman replied, with oriental
composure.
“I did not know,” remarked the Christian, with scientific interest, “that that would make
so much noise.”
“The Mohammedans are cutting Buddhist throats, too,” added the Dragoman.
“It is astonishing,” mused the Christian, “how violent and how general are religious
animosities. Everywhere in the world the devotees of each local faith abhor the devotees of every other, and
abstain from murder only so long as they dare not commit it. And the strangest thing about it is that all
religions are erroneous and mischievous excepting mine. Mine, thank God, is true and benign.”
So saying he visibly smugged and went off to telegraph for a brigade of cutthroats to protect Christian
interests.
“Good Heavens!” exclaimed a Sovereign Elector, on hearing the resolutions read, “what
a loss to the nation! And to think that I once voted against that angel for Inspector of Gate-latches in Public
Squares!”
In remorse the Sovereign Elector deprived himself of political influence by learning to read.
“Whenever I am angry, you rise and bristle; when I am pleased, you wag; when I am alarmed, you tuck
yourself in out of danger. You are too mercurial—you disclose all my emotions. My notion is that
tails are given to conceal thought. It is my dearest ambition to be as impassive as the Sphinx.”
“My friend, you must recognise the laws and limitations of your being,” replied the Tail, with
flexions appropriate to the sentiments uttered, “and try to be great some other way. The Sphinx has
one hundred and fifty qualifications for impassiveness which you lack.”
“And—?”
Religions of Error 34
Fantastic Fables
A Prophet of Evil
An Undertaker Who Was a Member of a Trust saw a Man Leaning on a Spade, and asked him why he was not
at work.
“Because,” said the Man Leaning on a Spade, “I belong to the Gravediggers’
National Extortion Society, and we have decided to limit the production of graves and get more money for the
reduced output. We have a corner in graves and propose to work it to the best advantage.”
“My friend,” said the Undertaker Who Was a Member of a Trust, “this is a most hateful
and injurious scheme. If people cannot be assured of graves, I fear they will no longer die, and the best
interests of civilisation will wither like a frosted leaf.”
And blowing his eyes upon his handkerchief, he walked away lamenting.
“We are fortunate,” said the Gallant Crew, “to have seen that in time. Our fate might
have been the same as theirs.”
So they hauled the life-boat back into its house, and were spared to the service of their country.
A Treaty of Peace
Through massacres of each other’s citizens China and the United States had been four times plunged
into devastating wars, when, in the year 1994, arose a Philosopher in Madagascar, who laid before the
Governments of the two distracted countries the following modus vivendi:
“Massacres are to be sternly forbidden as heretofore; but any citizen or subject of either country
disobeying the injunction is to detach the scalps of all persons massacred and deposit them with a local officer
designated to receive and preserve them and sworn to keep and render a true account thereof. At the
conclusion of each massacre in either country, or as soon thereafter as practicable, or at stated regular periods,
as may be provided by treaty, there shall be an exchange of scalps between the two Governments, scalp for
scalp, without regard to sex or age; the Government having the greatest number is to be taxed on the excess at
the rate of $1000 a scalp, and the other Government credited with the amount. Once in every decade there
shall be a general settlement, when the balance due shall be paid to the creditor nation in Mexican
dollars.”
The plan was adopted, the necessary treaty made, with legislation to carry out its provisions; the
Madagascarene Philosopher took his seat in the Temple of Immortality, and Peace spread her white wings
over the two nations, to the unspeakable defiling of her plumage.
“With all my heart, and God bless you!” said the Old Friend, grasping him by both hands.
“It is a greater honour than I had dared to hope for.”
“I knew what your answer would be,” replied the Gifted and Honourable Editor. “And
yet,” he added, with a sly smile, “I feel that I ought to give you as much knowledge of my
character as I possess. In this scrap-book is such testimony relating to my shady side, as I have within the past
ten years been able to cut from the columns of my competitors in the business of elevating humanity to a
higher plane of mind and morals—my ‘loathsome contemporaries.’”
Laying the book on a table, he withdrew in high spirits to make arrangements for the wedding. Three days
later he received the scrap-book from a messenger, with a note warning him never again to darken his Old
Friend’s door.
“I am greatly surprised by such a question,” said the Cashier; “it sounds as if you
suspected me of selfishness. Gentlemen, I applied that money to the purpose for which I took it; I paid it as an
initiation fee and one year’s dues in advance to the Treasurer of the Cashiers’ Mutual Defence
Association.”
“When any one of its members is under suspicion,” replied the Cashier, “the Association
undertakes to clear his character by submitting evidence that he was never a prominent member of any church,
nor foremost in Sunday-school work.”
Recognising the value to the bank of a spotless reputation for its officers, the President drew his check for the
amount of the shortage and the Cashier was restored to favour.
“Follow me,” said the Clew, “and there’s no knowing what you may
discover.”
So the Detective followed the Clew a whole year through a thousand sinuosities, and at last found himself in
the office of the Morgue.
The Detective eagerly scanned the page, and found an official statement that the deceased was dead.
Thereupon he hastened to Police Headquarters to report progress. The Clew, meanwhile, sauntered among the
busy haunts of men, arm in arm with an Ingenious Theory.
“Wretch!” cried the Widow. “Leave me this instant! Is this a time to talk to me of
love?”
“I assure you, madam, that I had not intended to disclose my affection,” the Engaging
Gentleman humbly explained, “but the power of your beauty has overcome my discretion.”
“You should see me when I have not been crying,” said the Widow.
“It will be nearly two months,” the Lawyer answered, “before the day that you mention.
Few patriots can live so long without eating, and some of the applicants will be compelled to go to work in the
meantime. If that kills them, you will be liable to prosecution for murder.”
“What!” said the Lawyer, “you think they can stand work?”
“Ah,” he said, “how disastrous is ambition! how unsatisfying its rewards! how terrible
its disappointments! Behold yonder peasant tilling his field in peace and contentment! He rises with the lark,
passes the day in wholesome toil, and lies down at night to pleasant dreams. In the mad struggle for place and
power he has no part; the roar of the strife reaches his ear like the distant murmur of the ocean. Happy, thrice
happy man! I will approach him and bask in the sunshine of his humble felicity. Peasant, all hail!”
Leaning upon his rake, the Peasant returned the salutation with a nod, but said nothing.
“My friend,” said the Office Seeker, “you see before you the wreck of an ambitious
man—ruined by the pursuit of place and power. This morning when I set out from the national
capital—”
“Stranger,” the Peasant interrupted, “if you’re going back there soon maybe you
wouldn’t mind using your influence to make me Postmaster at Smith’s Corners.”
“I am extremely obliged to you, but before accepting so great a responsibility I must ascertain the
sentiments of the people of Wayoff.”
“Sire,” said the Spokesman of the Three Persons, “they stand before you.”
“Indeed!” said the King; “are you, then, the people of Wayoff?”
“There are not many of you,” the King said, attentively regarding them with the royal eye,
“and you are not so very large; I hardly think you are a quorum. Moreover, I never heard of you until
you came here; whereas Wayoff is noted for the quality of its pork and contains hogs of distinction. I shall
send a Commissioner to ascertain the sentiments of the hogs.”
The Three Persons, bowing profoundly, backed out of the presence; but soon afterward they desired another
audience, and, on being readmitted, said, through their Spokesman:
The No Case
A Statesman who had been indicted by an unfeeling Grand Jury was arrested by a Sheriff and thrown into
jail. As this was abhorrent to his fine spiritual nature, he sent for the District Attorney and asked that the case
against him be dismissed.
“Do you happen to have the lack with you?” the official asked. “I should like to see
it.”
So saying he handed the other a check, which the District Attorney carefully examined, and then pronounced
it the most complete absence of both proof and presumption that he had ever seen. He said it would acquit the
oldest man in the world.
A Harmless Visitor
At a meeting of the Golden League of Mystery a Woman was discovered, writing in a note-book. A member
directed the attention of the Superb High Chairman to her, and she was asked to explain her presence there,
and what she was doing.
“I came in for my own pleasure and instruction,” she said, “and was so struck by the
wisdom of the speakers that I could not help making a few notes.”
“Madam,” said the Superb High Chairman, “we have no objection to visitors if they will
pledge themselves not to publish anything they hear. Are you—on your honour as a lady, now,
madam—are you not connected with some newspaper?”
“Good gracious, no!” cried the Woman, earnestly. “Why, sir, I am an officer of the
Women’s Press Association!”
“I am the Rash Act,” was the sepulchral reply; “you may commit me.”
“No,” the judge said, thoughtfully, “no, that would be quite irregular. I do not sit to-day
as a committing magistrate.”
“Your career of mischief is at an end,” said the Retraction, drawing his club, rolling up his
sleeves, and spitting on his hands.
The No Case 39
Fantastic Fables
“Why should you slay me?” protested the Slander. “Whatever my intentions were, I
have been innocuous, for you have dogged my strides and counteracted my influence.”
“Dogged your grandmother!” said the Retraction, with contemptuous vulgarity of speech.
“In the order of nature it is appointed that we two shall never travel the same road.”
“How then,” the Slander asked, triumphantly, “have you overtaken me?”
“I have not,” replied the Retraction; “we have accidentally met. I came round the world
the other way.”
But when he tried to execute his fell purpose he found that in the order of nature it was appointed that he
himself perish miserably in the encounter.
An Inflated Ambition
The President of a great Corporation went into a dry-goods shop and saw a placard which read:
“If You Don’t See What You Want, Ask For It.”
Approaching the shopkeeper, who had been narrowly observing him as he read the placard, he was about to
speak, when the shopkeeper called to a salesman:
Rejected Services
A Heavy Operator overtaken by a Reverse of Fortune was bewailing his sudden fall from affluence to
indigence.
“Do not weep,” said the Reverse of Fortune. “You need not suffer alone. Name any
one of the men who have opposed your schemes, and I will overtake him.”
“It is hardly worth while,” said the victim, earnestly. “Not a soul of them has a
cent!”
At Large—One Temper
A Turbulent Person was brought before a Judge to be tried for an assault with intent to commit murder, and it
was proved that he had been variously obstreperous without apparent provocation, had affected the
peripheries of several luckless fellow-citizens with the trunk of a small tree, and subsequently cleaned out the
town. While trying to palliate these misdeeds, the defendant’s Attorney turned suddenly to the Judge,
saying:
“I fine you twenty-five dollars for contempt of court!” roared the Judge, in wrath. “How
dare you mention the loss of my temper in connection with this case?”
“Why don’t you come out on dry land?” said the Spectator. “What are you in
there for?”
“But,” said the Spectator, “you said in your famous speech before the Society for the
Prevention of the Protrusion of Nail Heads from Plank Sidewalks that Kings were blood-smeared oppressors
and hell-bound loafers.”
“My dear sir,” said the Distinguished Advocate of Republican Institutions, without removing
his eyes from the horizon, “you wander away into the strangest irrelevancies! I spoke of Kings in the
abstract.”
At Large—One Temper 41
Fantastic Fables
“Beef-steaks are too tender,” said the Physician; “have his meat cut from the neck of a
bull.”
“That is very true,” said the Physician; “but they do not sufficiently exercise the
chin.”
“Oh, I haven’t anything to do with it myself,” said the Beautiful Old Man. “I am
only observing one of the customs of the age. I am a pirate.”
And when he had taken his hand from the lad’s head, the latter observed that his hair was full of
clotted blood. Then the Beautiful Old Man went his way, instructing other youth.
“There is nothing to appraise,” said the Attorney, pocketing his last fee.
“Then,” said the Successful Claimant, “what good has all this litigation done
me?”
“You have been a good client to me,” the Attorney replied, gathering up his books and papers,
“but I must say you betray a surprising ignorance of the purpose of litigation.”
“I will take the management of the prisons,” said a Decent Respect for Public Opinion,
“and make a radical change.”
“And I,” said the Blotted Escutcheon, “will retain my present general connection with
affairs, while my friend here, the Soiled Ermine, will remain in the Judiciary.”
The Political Pot said it would not boil any more unless replenished from the Filthy Pool.
The Cohesive Power of Public Plunder quietly remarked that the two bosses would, he supposed, naturally be
his share.
“No,” said the Depth of Degradation, “they have already fallen to me.”
“Let me propose your name for membership in the Imperial Order of Abnormal Proboscidians, of
which I am the High Noble Toby and Surreptitious Treasurer. Two months ago I was the only member. One
month ago there were two. To-day we number four Emperors of the Abnormal Proboscis in good
standing—doubles every four weeks, see? That’s geometrical progression—you know
how that piles up. In a year and a half every man in California will have a wart on his Nose. Powerful
Order! Initiation, five dollars.”
“My friend,” said the Person Similarly Afflicted, “here are five dollars. Keep my name
off your books.”
“Thank you kindly,” the Man with a Wart on His Nose replied, pocketing the money; “it
is just the same to us as if you joined. Good-by.”
“Your Excellency, we are unable to agree upon a Favourite Son to represent us in your
Cabinet.”
“Then,” said the New President, “I shall have to lock you up until you do agree.”
So the Delegation was cast into the deepest dungeon beneath the moat, where it maintained a divided mind for
many weeks, but finally reconciled its differences and asked to be taken before the New President.
“My child,” said he, “nothing is so beautiful as harmony. My Cabinet Selections were
all made before our former interview, but you have supplied a noble instance of patriotism in subordinating
your personal preferences to the general good. Go now to your beautiful homes and be happy.”
A Forfeited Right
The Chief of the Weather Bureau having predicted a fine day, a Thrifty Person hastened to lay in a large stock
of umbrellas, which he exposed for sale on the sidewalk; but the weather remained clear, and nobody would
buy. Thereupon the Thrifty Person brought an action against the Chief of the Weather Bureau for the cost of
the umbrellas.
“Your Honour,” said the defendant’s attorney, when the case was called, “I move
that this astonishing action be dismissed. Not only is my client in no way responsible for the loss, but he
distinctly foreshadowed the very thing that caused it.”
“That is just it, your Honour,” replied the counsel for the plaintiff; “the defendant by
making a correct forecast fooled my client in the only way that he could do so. He has lied so much and so
notoriously that he has neither the legal nor moral right to tell the truth.”
Revenge
An Insurance Agent was trying to induce a Hard Man to Deal With to take out a policy on his house. After
listening to him for an hour, while he painted in vivid colours the extreme danger of fire consuming the house,
the Hard Man to Deal With said:
“Do you really think it likely that my house will burn down inside the time that policy will
run?”
“Certainly,” replied the Insurance Agent; “have I not been trying all this time to
convince you that I do?”
“Then,” said the Hard Man to Deal With, “why are you so anxious to have your
Company bet me money that it will not?”
The Agent was silent and thoughtful for a moment; then he drew the other apart into an unfrequented place
and whispered in his ear:
“My friend, I will impart to you a dark secret. Years ago the Company betrayed my sweetheart by
promise of marriage. Under an assumed name I have wormed myself into its service for revenge; and as there
is a heaven above us, I will have its heart’s blood!”
An Optimist
Two Frogs in the belly of a snake were considering their altered circumstances.
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” the other said; “we are out of the wet and provided
with board and lodging.”
“With lodging, certainly,” said the First Frog; “but I don’t see the board.”
A Forfeited Right 44
Fantastic Fables
“You are a croaker,” the other explained. “We are ourselves the board.”
A Valuable Suggestion
A Big Nation having a quarrel with a Little Nation, resolved to terrify its antagonist by a grand naval
demonstration in the latter’s principal port. So the Big Nation assembled all its ships of war from all
over the world, and was about to send them three hundred and fifty thousand miles to the place of rendezvous,
when the President of the Big Nation received the following note from the President of the Little Nation:
“My great and good friend, I hear that you are going to show us your navy, in order to impress us with
a sense of your power. How needless the expense! To prove to you that we already know all about it, I
inclose herewith a list and description of all the ships you have.”
The great and good friend was so struck by the hard sense of the letter that he kept his navy at home, and
saved one thousand million dollars. This economy enabled him to buy a satisfactory decision when the cause
of the quarrel was submitted to arbitration.
Two Footpads
Two Footpads sat at their grog in a roadside resort, comparing the evening’s adventures.
“I stood up the Chief of Police,” said the First Footpad, “and I got away with what he
had.”
“And I,” said the Second Footpad, “stood up the United States District Attorney, and got
away with—”
An Optimist 45
Fantastic Fables
“I never befo’ seen such a cyclone as dat,” he exclaimed as soon as he had recovered his
breath. “It done carry away de ruf of my house!”
At the Pole
After a great expenditure of life and treasure a Daring Explorer had succeeded in reaching the North Pole,
when he was approached by a Native Galeut who lived there.
“Good morning,” said the Native Galeut. “I‘m very glad to see you, but why did
you come here?”
“Yes, yes, I know,” the other persisted; “but of what benefit to man is your discovery?
To what truths does it give access which were inaccessible before?—facts, I mean, having a scientific
value?”
“I‘ll be Tom scatted if I know,” the great man replied, frankly; “you will have to
ask the Scientist of the Expedition.”
But the Scientist of the Expedition explained that he had been so engrossed with the care of his instruments
and the study of his tables that he had found no time to think of it.
“My son,” said the Optimist, stopping the gold carriage, “you look as if you had not a
friend in the world.”
“I don’t know if I have or not,” replied the Cynic, “for you have the
world.”
“Unluckily, not having read the poem, I was unable to supply the incidents that followed; otherwise we
could have given them in our own words. If the news is not stale, and has not already appeared in the other
papers, perhaps you will kindly relate what occurred, while I make notes of it.
“Go on.”
“What!” said the poet, “do you expect me to reproduce the entire poem from
memory?”
“Only the substance of it—just the leading facts. We will add whatever is necessary in the way
of amplification and embellishment. It will detain you but a moment.
“Now, then.”
There was a sound of a slow getting up and going away. The chronicler of passing events sat through it,
motionless, with suspended pen; and when the movement was complete Poesy was represented in that place
by nothing but a warm spot on the wooden chair.
“No,” replied the Thief, “there are some things which I will not take—among
them your hand.”
“You must use a little strategy,” said a Philosopher to whom the Successful Man of Business
had reported the Thief’s haughty reply. “Leave your hand out some night, and he will take
it.”
So one night the Successful Man of Business left his hand out of his neighbour’s pocket, and the Thief
took it with avidity.
An Unspeakable Imbecile
A Judge said to a Convicted Assassin:
“Prisoner at the bar, have you anything to say why the death-sentence should not be passed upon
you?”
“Will what I say make any difference?” asked the Convicted Assassin.
“I do not see how it can,” the Judge answered, reflectively. “No, it will not.”
“Then,” said the doomed one, “I should just like to remark that you are the most
unspeakable old imbecile in seven States and the District of Columbia.”
A Needful War
The people of Madagonia had an antipathy to the people of Novakatka and set upon some sailors of a
Novakatkan vessel, killing two and wounding twelve. The King of Madagonia having refused either to
apologise or pay, the King of Novakatka made war upon him, saying that it was necessary to show that
Novakatkans must not be slaughtered. In the battles which ensued the people of Madagonia slaughtered two
thousand Novakatkans and wounded twelve thousand. But the Madagonians were unsuccessful, which so
chagrined them that never thereafter in all their land was a Novakatkan secure in property or life.
“By an unjust discrimination against quadrupeds I am made ineligible to a seat in your convention; so I
am compelled to seek representation through you.”
“It will give me great pleasure, sir,” said the Owner of a Silver Mine, “to serve one so
closely allied to me in—in—well, you know,” he added, with a significant gesture of his
two hands upward from the sides of his head. “What do you want?”
“Oh, nothing—nothing at all for myself individually,” replied the Donkey; “but
his country’s welfare should be a patriot’s supreme care. If Americans are to retain the sacred
liberties for which their fathers strove, Congress must declare our independence of European dictation by
maintaining the price of mules.”
“When I bury a bone,” said the Dog, “it is with an intention to uncover it later and pick
it.”
“The bones that I bury,” said the Physician, “are those that I can no longer pick.”
“But you will contribute something to the campaign fund to assist in your election, will you
not?” asked the Party Manager, winking.
A Needful War 48
Fantastic Fables
“Oh, no,” said the Gentleman, gravely. “If the people wish me to work for them, they
must hire me without solicitation. I am very comfortable without office.”
“But,” urged the Party Manager, “an election is a thing to be desired. It is a high honour
to be a servant of the people.”
“If servitude is a high honour,” the Gentleman said, “it would be indecent for me to seek
it; and if obtained by my own exertion it would be no honour.”
“Well,” persisted the Party Manager, “you will at least, I hope, indorse the party
platform.”
The Gentleman replied: “It is improbable that its authors have accurately expressed my views without
consulting me; and if I indorsed their work without approving it I should be a liar.”
“You are a detestable hypocrite and an idiot!” shouted the Party Manager.
“Even your good opinion of my fitness,” replied the Gentleman, “shall not persuade
me.”
“Sir,” said the Most Respectable Citizen, austerely, “were you not once in the State
Senate?”
“Not so bad as that, sir, I assure you,” was the reply. “I was a member of the Slower
House. I was expelled for selling my influence for money.”
“And you dare to ask for mine!” shouted the Most Respectable Citizen. “You have the
impudence? A man who will accept bribes will probably offer them. Do you mean to—”
“I should not think of making a corrupt proposal to you, sir; but if I were Commissioner of Shrimps
and Crabs, I might have some influence with the water-front population, and be able to help you make your
fight for Coroner.”
“In that case I do not feel justified in denying you the letter.”
So he took his pen, and, some demon guiding his hand, he wrote, greatly to his astonishment:
The Rainmaker
An Officer of the Government, with a great outfit of mule-waggons loaded with balloons, kites, dynamite
bombs, and electrical apparatus, halted in the midst of a desert, where there had been no rain for ten years, and
set up a camp. After several months of preparation and an expenditure of a million dollars all was in
readiness, and a series of tremendous explosions occurred on the earth and in the sky. This was followed by a
great down-pour of rain, which washed the unfortunate Officer of the Government and the outfit off the face
of creation and affected the agricultural heart with joy too deep for utterance. A Newspaper Reporter who had
just arrived escaped by climbing a hill near by, and there he found the Sole Survivor of the
expedition—a mule-driver—down on his knees behind a mesquite bush, praying with extreme
fervour.
“My fellow-traveller to the bar of God,” replied the Sole Survivor, looking up over his
shoulder, “your understanding is in darkness. I am not stopping this great blessing; under Providence,
I am bringing it.”
“That is a pretty good joke,” said the Reporter, laughing as well as he could in the strangling
rain—“a mule driver’s prayer answered!”
“Child of levity and scoffing,” replied the other; “you err again, misled by these humble
habiliments. I am the Rev. Ezekiel Thrifft, a minister of the gospel, now in the service of the great
manufacturing firm of Skinn & Sheer. They make balloons, kites, dynamite bombs, and electrical
apparatus.”
“When you can’t do what you wish,” said the Public-spirited Citizen, “it is worth
while to do what you can.”
“Why did you try to run away?” said the Fortune, when his struggles had ceased and his
screams were stilled. “Why do you glare at me so inhospitably?”
“I don’t know what you are,” replied the Writer of Fables, deeply disturbed.
“I am wealth; I am respectability,” the Fortune explained; “I am elegant houses, a yacht,
and a clean shirt every day. I am leisure, I am travel, wine, a shiny hat, and an unshiny coat. I am enough to
eat.”
The Rainmaker 50
Fantastic Fables
“All right,” said the Writer of Fables, in a whisper; “but for goodness’ sake
speak lower.”
“So as not to wake me,” replied the Writer of Fables, a holy calm brooding upon his beautiful
face.
A Smiling Idol
An Idol said to a Missionary, “My friend, why do you seek to bring me into contempt? If it had not
been for me, what would you have been? Remember thy creator that thy days be long in the land.”
“I confess,” replied the Missionary, fingering a number of ten-cent pieces which a
Sunday-school in his own country had forwarded to him, “that I am a product of you, but I protest that
you cannot quote Scripture with accuracy and point. Therefore will I continue to go up against you with the
Sword of the Spirit.”
Shortly afterwards the Idol’s worshippers held a great religious ceremony at the base of his pedestal,
and as a part of the rites the Missionary was roasted whole. As the tongue was removed for the high
priest’s table, “Ah,” said the Idol to himself, “that is the Sword of the
Spirit—the only Sword that is less dangerous when unsheathed.”
And he smiled so pleasantly at his own wit that the provinces of Ghargaroo, M’gwana, and Scowow
were affected with a blight.
Philosophers Three
A Bear, a Fox, and an Opossum were attacked by an inundation.
“Death loves a coward,” said the Bear, and went forward to fight the flood.
“What a fool!” said the Fox. “I know a trick worth two of that.” And he slipped
into a hollow stump.
“There are malevolent forces,” said the Opossum, “which the wise will neither confront
nor avoid. The thing is to know the nature of your antagonist.”
“My children,” said the Oldest and Wisest Ape in All the World, when he had heard the
Deputation, “you did right in ridding yourselves of tyranny, but your tribe is not sufficiently advanced
to dispense with the forms of monarchy. Entice the tyrant back with fair promises, kill him and enthrone.
The skeleton of even the most lawless despot makes a good constitutional sovereign.”
At this the Deputation was greatly abashed. “It is impossible,” they said, moving away;
“our king has no skeleton; he was stuffed.”
Uncalculating Zeal
A Man-Eating tiger was ravaging the Kingdom of Damnasia, and the King, greatly concerned for the lives and
limbs of his Royal subjects, promised his daughter Zodroulra to any man who would kill the animal. After
some days Camaraladdin appeared before the King and claimed the reward.
“May jackasses sing above my uncle’s grave,” replied Camaraladdin, “if I dared
go within a league of him!”
“Thou art wiser, O King, than Solyman the Great, and thy servant is as dust in the tomb of thy dog, yet
thou errest. I did not, it is true, kill the tiger, but behold! I have brought thee the scalp of the man who had
accumulated five million pieces of gold and was after more.”
The King drew his consoler-under-disappointment, and, flicking off Camaraladdin’s head, said:
“Learn, caitiff, the expediency of uncalculating zeal. If the millionaire had been let alone he would
have devoured the tiger.”
A Transposition
Travelling through the sage-brush country a Jackass met a rabbit, who exclaimed in great astonishment:
“Good heavens! how did you grow so big? You are doubtless the largest rabbit living.”
After a good deal of fruitless argument the question was referred for decision to a passing Coyote, who was a
bit of a demagogue and desirous to stand well with both.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “you are both right, as was to have been expected by persons so
gifted with appliances for receiving instruction from the wise. You, sir,”—turning to the
superior animal—“are, as he has accurately observed, a rabbit. And you”—to the
other—“are correctly described as a jackass. In transposing your names man has acted with
incredible folly.”
They were so pleased with the decision that they declared the Coyote their candidate for the Grizzly Bearship;
but whether he ever obtained the office history does not relate.
A Creaking Tail
An American Statesman who had twisted the tail of the British Lion until his arms ached was at last rewarded
by a sharp, rasping sound.
“I knew your fortitude would give out after a while,” said the American Statesman, delighted;
“your agony attests my political power.”
“Agony I know not!” said the British Lion, yawning; “the swivel in my tail needs a few
drops of oil, that is all.”
Wasted Sweets
A Candidate canvassing his district met a Nurse wheeling a Baby in a carriage, and, stooping, imprinted a kiss
upon the Baby’s clammy muzzle. Rising, he saw a Man, who laughed.
“Because,” replied the Man, “the Baby belongs to the Orphan Asylum.”
“But the Nurse,” said the Candidate—“the Nurse will surely relate the touching
incident wherever she goes, and perhaps write to her former master.”
“The Nurse,” said the Man who had laughed, “is an inmate of the Institution for the
Illiterate-Deaf-and-Dumb.”
“Mr. Chairman, before we bend to our noble task of purifying politics, in the interest of good
government I wish to say a word of the untoward events of last evening. If my memory serves me the
disasters which overtook the Majority of this honourable body always befell when it was the
Minority’s deal. It is my solemn conviction, Mr. Chairman, and to its affirmation I pledge my life, my
fortune, and my sacred honour, that that wicked and unscrupulous Minority redistricted the cards!”
At that moment the Squirrels stopped from exhaustion, and looking up at its enemy, said:
“I don’t venture to doubt the sincerity of your compassion, though it comes rather late, but you
seem to lack the faculty of observation. Do you not perceive by my actions that the dearest wish of my heart
is to continue in my misery?”
At this exposure of his hypocrisy, the Sportsman was so overcome with shame and remorse that he would not
strike the Squirrel, but pointing it out to his dog, walked thoughtfully away.
“What sin art thou committing now, O son of a Christian dog?” said the Fogy, with a truly
Oriental politeness.
“Boring for water, you black-and-tan galoot!” replied the Sheik of the Outfit, with that ready
repartee which distinguishes the Unbeliever.
“Knowest thou not, thou whelp of darkness and father of disordered livers,” cried the Fogy,
“that water will cause grass to spring up here, and trees, and possibly even flowers? Knowest thou not,
that thou art, in truth, producing an oasis?”
“And don’t you know,” said the Sheik of the Outfit, “that caravans will then stop
here for rest and refreshments, giving you a chance to steal the camels, the horses, and the goods?”
“May the wild hog defile my grave, but thou speakest wisdom!” the Fogy replied, with the
dignity of his race, extending his hand. “Sheik.”
They shook.
At Heaven’s Gate
Having arisen from the tomb, a Woman presented herself at the gate of Heaven, and knocked with a trembling
hand.
“Madam,” said Saint Peter, rising and approaching the wicket, “whence do you
come?”
“From San Francisco,” replied the Woman, with embarrassment, as great beads of perspiration
spangled her spiritual brow.
“Never mind, my good girl,” the Saint said, compassionately. “Eternity is a long time;
you can live that down.”
“But that, if you please, is not all.” The Woman was growing more and more confused.
“I poisoned my husband. I chopped up my babies. I—”
“Ah,” said the Saint, with sudden austerity, “your confession suggests a very grave
possibility. Were you a member of the Women’s Press Association?”
The gates of pearl and jasper swung back upon their golden hinges, making the most ravishing music, and the
Saint, stepping aside, bowed low, saying:
“Of no consequence, I assure you. We are not going to be hard on a lady who did not belong to the
Women’s Press Association. Take a harp.”
“Why do you appeal to the law?” said the Magistrate—“You who go in for the
abolition of law.”
“That,” replied the Anarchist, who was not without a certain hardness of head, “that is
none of your business; I am not bound to be consistent. You sit here to do justice between me and this Dead
Cat.”
“Very well,” said the Magistrate, putting on the black cap and a solemn look; “as the
accused makes no defence, and is undoubtedly guilty, I sentence her to be eaten by the public executioner; and
as that position happens to be vacant, I appoint you to it, without bonds.”
One of the most delighted spectators at the execution was the anonymous Respector of Law who had flung the
condemned.
At Heaven’s Gate 55
Fantastic Fables
“You are most unjust,” said the Member of the Legislature. “It is true I promised you I
would not steal; but had I ever promised you that I would not lie?”
The Constituents said he was an honourable man and elected him to the United States Congress, unpledged
and unfledged.
“You do me a grave injustice,” said the Boss, parting with a pair of tears. “I came to
Canada solely because of its political attractions; its Government is the most corrupt in the world.”
They fell upon each other’s neck, and at the conclusion of that touching rite the Boss had two watches.
An Inadequate Fee
An Ox, unable to extricate himself from the mire into which he sank, was advised to make use of a Political
Pull. When the Political Pull had arrived, the Ox said: “My good friend, please make fast to me, and
let nature take her course.”
So the Political Pull made fast to the Ox’s head and nature took her course. The Ox was drawn, first,
from the mire, and, next, from his skin. Then the Political Pull looked back upon the good fat carcase of beef
that he was dragging to his lair and said, with a discontented spirit:
“That is hardly my customary fee; I’ll take home this first instalment, then return and bring an
action for salvage against the skin.”
“Well,” said he, “I am going to decide your case to-day. If I should decide in your
favour, I wonder how you would express your satisfaction?”
“Sir,” said the Man of Experience in Business, “I should risk your anger by offering you
one half the sum awarded.”
“Did I say I was going to decide that case?” said the Judge, abruptly, as if awakening from a
dream. “Dear me, how absent-minded I am. I mean I have already decided it, and judgment has been
entered for the full amount that you sued for.”
“Did I say I would give you one half?” said the Man of Experience in Business, coldly.
“Dear me, how near I came to being a rascal. I mean, that I am greatly obliged to you.”
A Statesman
A Statesman who attended a meeting of a Chamber of Commerce rose to speak, but was objected to on the
ground that he had nothing to do with commerce.
“Mr. Chairman,” said an Aged Member, rising, “I conceive that the objection is not well
taken; the gentleman’s connection with commerce is close and intimate. He is a Commodity.”
Two Dogs
The Dog, as created, had a rigid tail, but after some centuries of a cheerless existence, unappreciated by Man,
who made him work for his living, he implored the Creator to endow him with a wag. This being done he
was able to dissemble his resentment with a sign of affection, and the earth was his and the fulness thereof.
Observing this, the Politician (an animal created later) petitioned that a wag might be given him too. As he
was incaudate it was conferred upon his chin, which he now wags with great profit and gratification except
when he is at his meals.
Three Recruits
A Farmer, an Artisan, and a Labourer went to the King of their country and complained that they were
compelled to support a large standing army of mere consumers, who did nothing for their keep.
“Very well,” said the King, “my subjects’ wishes are the highest law.”
So he disbanded his army and the consumers became producers also. The sale of their products so brought
down prices that farming was ruined, and their skilled and unskilled labour drove the artisans and labourers
into the almshouses and highways. In a few years the national distress was so great that the Farmer, the
Artisan, and the Labourer petitioned the King to reorganize the standing army.
“What!” said the King; “you wish to support those idle consumers again?”
The Mirror
A Silken-Eared Spaniel, who traced his descent from King Charles the Second of England, chanced to look
into a mirror which was leaning against the wainscoting of a room on the ground floor of his mistress’s
house. Seeing his reflection, he supposed it to be another dog, outside, and said:
“I can chew up any such milksoppy pup as that, and I will.”
So he ran out-of-doors and around to the side of the house where he fancied the enemy was. It so happened
that at that moment a Bulldog sat there sunning his teeth. The Spaniel stopped short in dire consternation,
and, after regarding the Bulldog a moment from a safe distance, said:
“I don’t know whether you cultivate the arts of peace or your flag is flung to the battle and the
breeze and your voice is for war. If you are a civilian, the windows of this house flatter you worse than a
newspaper, but if you’re a soldier, they do you a grave injustice.”
This speech being unintelligible to the Bulldog he only civilly smiled, which so terrified the Spaniel that he
dropped dead in his tracks.
The Most Wicked Sinner looked at him from head to foot. “Henceforth,” he said, “the
Divine Grace, I fancy, will let well enough alone.”
An Antidote
A Young Ostrich came to its Mother, groaning with pain and with its wings tightly crossed upon its stomach.
“What have you been eating?” the Mother asked, with solicitude.
“What!” exclaimed the Mother; “a whole keg of Nails, at your age! Why, you will kill
yourself that way. Go quickly, my child, and swallow a claw-hammer.”
A Weary Echo
A Convention of female writers, which for two days had been stuffing Woman’s couch with
goose-quills and hailing the down of a new era, adjourned with unabated enthusiasm, shouting, “Place
aux dames!” And Echo wearily replied, “Oh, damn.”
Three Recruits 58
Fantastic Fables
Inventor.—“Yes; it will enable your army to overrun any nation that is accessible.”
King.—“In order to get any good of my outlay for your invention, I must make a war, and do so
as soon as I can arm my troops—before your secret is discovered by foreign nations. How much do
you want?”
Inventor.—“Fifty millions.”
King (to Prime Minister).—“Take this blackmailer and cut off his head.”
A Talisman
Having been summoned to serve as a juror, a Prominent Citizen sent a physician’s certificate stating
that he was afflicted with softening of the brain.
“The gentleman is excused,” said the Judge, handing back the certificate to the person who had
brought it, “he has a brain.”
A Fatal Disorder
A Dying Man who had been shot was requested by officers of the law to make a statement, and be quick about
it.
“You were assaulted without provocation, of course,” said the District Attorney, preparing to
set down the answer.
“I don’t think he would have hurt me if I had let him alone,” said the other. “No,
I fancy he was a man of peace, and would not have hurt a fly. I brought such a pressure to bear on him that he
naturally had to yield—he couldn’t hold out. If he had refused to shoot me I don’t see
how I could decently have continued his acquaintance.”
“Good Heavens!” exclaimed the District Attorney, throwing down his note-book and pencil;
“this is all quite irregular. I can’t make use of such an ante-mortem statement as that.”
“I never before knew a man to tell the truth,” said the Chief of Police, “when dying of
violence.”
“Violence nothing!” the Police Surgeon said, pulling out and inspecting the man’s
tongue—“it is the truth that is killing him.”
The Massacre
Some Holy Missionaries in China having been deprived of life by the Bigoted Heathens, the Christian Press
made a note of it, and was greatly pained to point out the contrast between the Bigoted Heathens and the
law-abiding countrymen of the Holy Missionaries who had wickedly been sent to eternal bliss.
“Yes,” assented a Miserable Sinner, as he finished reading the articles, “the Heathens of
Ying Shing are deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. By the way,” he added, turning over
the paper to read the entertaining and instructive Fables, “I know the Heathenese lingo. Ying Shing
means Rock Creek; it is in the Province of Wyo Ming.”
Back to him over the waters, hollow and heartless, like laughter in a tomb, rang the voice of the Skipper:
A Fatal Disorder 60
Fantastic Fables
And there, in the focus of a million pairs of convergent eyes, the Ambitious Person sat him down between the
sun and moon and murmured sadly to his own soul:
“Marooned, by thunder!”
“Why do you weep?” inquired an Angel who had perched upon a fence near by.
“You wander,” he said to the Accuser; “it is of little importance how I obtained my
power; it is only important how I have used it.”
“I confess,” said the Accuser, “that in comparison with the rascally way in which you
have conducted yourself on the Bench, the rascally way in which you got there does seem rather a
trifle.”
“My good friend,” said the Traveller, “according to the terms of your demand my
money will save my life, my life my money; you imply you will take one or the other, but not both. If that is
what you mean, please be good enough to take my life.”
“That is not what I mean,” said the Highwayman; “you cannot save your money by
giving up your life.”
“Then take it, anyhow,” the Traveller said. “If it will not save my money, it is good for
nothing.”
The Highwayman was so pleased with the Traveller’s philosophy and wit that he took him into
partnership, and this splendid combination of talent started a newspaper.
Thereupon the Policeman left the man in a fit and attacked the Citizen, who, after receiving several severe
contusions, ran away.
“Alas,” said the Policeman, “why did I not attack the sober one before exhausting
myself upon the other?”
Thenceforward he pursued that plan, and by zeal and diligence rose to be Chief, and sobriety is unknown in
the region subject to his sway.
“It bears the marks of that superb unconcern which is the characteristic of genius,” replied the
Ambitious Writer, contemptuously passing him by.
Resting by the wayside a little later, the Tramp carved upon the smooth bark of a birch-tree the words,
“John Gump, Champion Genius.”
Two Politicians
Two Politicians were exchanging ideas regarding the rewards for public service.
“The reward which I most desire,” said the First Politician, “is the gratitude of my
fellow-citizens.”
“That would be very gratifying, no doubt,” said the Second Politician, “but, alas! in
order to obtain it one has to retire from politics.”
For an instant they gazed upon each other with inexpressible tenderness; then the First Politician murmured,
“God’s will be done! Since we cannot hope for reward, let us be content with what we
have.”
And lifting their right hands from the public treasury they swore to be content.
“Poor bruised and bleeding creature,” said the compassionate Traveller, “what
misfortune caused you to be so far away from the source of power?”
“Ah, my deliverer,” said the Snake as well as he could, “you have arrived just in time;
this reptile, you see, is pitching into me without provocation.”
“Sir,” replied the Naturalist, “I need a snakeskin for my collection, but if you had not
explained I should not have interrupted you, for I thought you were at dinner.”
“What security have you to offer?” asked the Truly Pious Person.
“The best in the world,” the applicant replied, confidentially; “I am about to become
your son-in-law.”
“That would indeed be gilt-edged,” said the banker, gravely; “but what claim have you
to the hand of my daughter?”
“One that cannot be lightly denied,” said the Tatterdemalion. “I am about to become
worth one hundred thousand dollars.”
Unable to detect a weak point in this scheme of mutual advantage, the financier gave the promoter in disguise
an order for the money, and wrote a note to his wife directing her to count out the girl.
“Turn about and travel the other way,” said the Statesman, “and I will keep you
company as far as my home. The advantages of travelling together are obvious.”
“I cannot do that,” said the Race Horse; “I am following my master to Washington. I
did not go fast enough to suit him, and he has gone on ahead.”
“He is the Statesman who saved his country,” answered the Race Horse.
“There appears to be some mistake,” the other said. “Why did he wish to travel so
fast?”
“I guess he got it,” said the other, and limped along, sighing.
An Ærophobe
A Celebrated Divine having affirmed the fallibility of the Bible, was asked why, then, he preached the religion
founded upon it.
“If it is fallible,” he replied, “there is the greater reason that I explain it, lest it
mislead.”
“Then am I to infer,” said his Questioner, “that you are not fallible?”
“I take this direction because it requires less exertion, not from choice. I pray you, sir, assist me to
regain the summit.”
“Gladly,” said the Strong Man, his face illuminated with the glory of his thought. “I
have always considered my strength a sacred gift in trust for my fellow-men. I will take you along with me.
Just get behind me and push.”
“My public servants have been fools and rogues from the date of your accession to power,”
replied the State; “my legislative bodies, both State and municipal, are bands of thieves; my taxes are
insupportable; my courts are corrupt; my cities are a disgrace to civilisation; my corporations have their hands
at the throats of every private interest—all my affairs are in disorder and criminal confusion.”
“That is all very true,” said the Republican Form of Government, putting on its hobnail shoes;
“but consider how I thrill you every Fourth of July.”
Having repeated them several times with various intonations, she sprang into the water, where she was
suffered to drown.
“I am a noble preserver,” said the Modern Swain, thoughtfully moving away; “the life
that I have saved is indeed mine.”
“It is all nonsense, you know, about shooting being a cruel sport. I put my skill against your
cunning-that is all there is of it. It is a fair game.”
“The game,” the Bird replied, “is fair as you say; the chances are about even; but
consider the stake. I am in it for you, but what is there in it for me?”
Not being prepared with an answer to the question, the Man with a Shotgun sagaciously removed the
propounder.
Three of a Kind
A Lawyer in whom an instinct of justice had survived the wreck of his ignorance of law was retained for the
defence of a burglar whom the police had taken after a desperate struggle with someone not in custody. In
consultation with his client the Lawyer asked, “Have you accomplices?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the Burglar. “I have two, but neither has been taken. I hired one to
defend me against capture, you to defend me against conviction.”
This answer deeply impressed the Lawyer, and having ascertained that the Burglar had accumulated no money
in his profession he threw up the case.
“How sad that so justly famous a satirist should mar his work by ridicule of people with long
noses—who are the salt of the earth!”
“I do so enjoy that great man’s censure of the ridiculous—particularly his attacks on the
Proboscidæ; but, alas! he has no reverence for the Marsupials, and laughs at our way of carrying our young in
a pouch.”
“If he would only respect the sacred Hump, he would be faultless. As it is, I cannot permit his fables
to be read in the presence of my family.”
The Ostrich, seeing his approach, thrust her head in the straw, saying:
“If I do not conceal myself, he may be reminded to write something disagreeable about my lack of a
crest or my appetite for scrap-iron; and although he is inexpressibly brilliant when he devotes himself to
censure of folly and greed, his dulness is matchless when he transcends the limits of legitimate
comment.”
“That,” said the Buzzard to his mate, “is the distinguished author of that glorious fable,
‘The Ostrich and the Keg of Raw Nails.’ I regret to add, that he wrote, also, ‘The
Buzzard’s Feast,’ in which a carrion diet is contumeliously disparaged. A carrion diet is the
foundation of sound health. If nothing else but corpses were eaten, death would be unknown.”
Seeing an attendant approaching, the wise and illustrious Writer of Fables passed out of the tent and mingled
with the crowd. It was afterward discovered that he had crept in under the canvas without paying.
Three of a Kind 66
Fantastic Fables
A Revivalist Revived
A Revivalist who had fallen dead in the pulpit from too violent religious exercise was astonished to wake up
in Hades. He promptly sent for the Adversary of Souls and demanded his freedom, explaining that he was
entirely orthodox, and had always led a pious and holy life.
“That is all very true,” said the Adversary, “but you taught by example that a verb
should not agree with its subject in person and number, whereas the Good Book says that contention is worse
than a dinner of herbs. You also tried to release the objective case from its thraldom to the preposition, and it
is written that servants should obey their masters. You stay right here.”
The Debaters
A Hurled-Back Allegation, which, after a brief rest, had again started forth upon its mission of mischief, met
an Ink-stand in mid-air.
“How did the Honourable Member whom you represent know that I was coming again?”
inquired the Hurled-back Allegation.
“He did not,” the Inkstand replied; “he isn’t at all forehanded at repartee.”
“Why, then, do you come, things being even when he had hurled me back?”
“If I could have my way, I’d blow up all your gods with dynamite.”
“And if I could have mine,” retorted the Heathen in His Blindness, bitterly malevolent but
oleaginuously suave, “I’d fan all yours out of the universe.”
“Hold! Hold! thou desperate Object,” cried the Dishonest Gain; “these beautiful private
grounds are no place for such work as thine.”
“True,” said the Object, pausing; “I have other and better grounds for it.”
“Then thou art a happy man,” said the Dishonest Gain, “and thy bleeding head is but
mere dissembling. Who art thou, great actor?”
A Revivalist Revived 67
Fantastic Fables
“I am known,” said the Object, dashing itself again at the wall, “as the Consciousness of
Duty Well Performed.”
“Mr. Chairman and Gintlemen,” said the Other, “it sames to me, and I‘m
hopin’ yez wull approve the suggistion, that an appropriet way to honour the mimory of the decaised
would be to erect an emolument sootably inscribed wid his vartues.”
The soul of the great man looked down from Heaven and wept.
A Needless Labour
After waiting many a weary day to revenge himself upon a Lion for some unconsidered manifestation of
contempt, a Skunk finally saw him coming, and posting himself in the path ahead uttered the inaudible
discord of his race. Observing that the Lion gave no attention to the matter, the Skunk, keeping carefully out
of reach, said:
“Sir, I beg leave to point out that I have set on foot an implacable odour.”
“My dear fellow,” the Lion replied, “you have taken a needless trouble; I already knew
that you were a Skunk.”
A Flourishing Industry
“Are the industries of this country in a flourishing condition?” asked a Traveller from a Foreign
Land of the first man he met in America.
“Splendid!” said the Man. “I have more orders than I can fill.”
The Man replied, “I make boxing-gloves for the tongues of pugilists.”
“No,” replied the Monkey; “but I will support you if you can urge a valid claim to my
approval.”
“That is nothing,” the Monkey said. And going to a bigger pine, he rose by his own unaided
exertions to the top branch, where he sat, all bedaubed with the pitch which that vegetable exudes.
“Now,” he added, “I am a self-made Monkey.”
“With pleasure,” said the Honest Banker; “we shall be glad to do business with you; but
first you must make yourself an honest man by restoring what you stole from the Government.”
“Good heavens!” cried the Patriot; “if I do that, I shall have nothing to deposit with
you.”
“I don’t see that,” the Honest Banker replied. “We are not the whole American
people.”
“Ah, I understand,” said the Patriot, musing. “At what sum do you estimate this
bank’s proportion of the country’s loss by me?”
And with a proud consciousness of serving his country wisely and well he charged that sum to the account.
“My children,” said he, “you have not shown me many marks of respect during my life,
but you will attest your sorrow for my death. To him who the longer wears a weed upon his hat in memory of
me shall go my entire fortune. I have made a will to that effect.”
So when the Old Man was dead each of the youths put a weed upon his hat and wore it until he was himself
old, when, seeing that neither would give in, they agreed that the younger should leave off his weeds and the
elder give him half of the estate. But when the elder applied for the property he found that there had been an
Executor!
“If our situations were reversed,” said the Millionaire, “I am sure he would visit me.
The old man has always been rather proud of me. Besides,” he added, softly, “I had to have his
signature; I am insuring his life.”
AESOPUS EMENDATUS
“I should think,” said Venus, “you might make so trifling a change without bothering
me. However, be a woman.”
Afterward, wishing to see if the change were complete, Venus caused a mouse to approach, whereupon the
woman shrieked and made such a show of herself that the Young Man would not marry her.
“My boys, there is a great treasure buried in the vineyard. You dig in the ground until you find
it.”
So the Sons dug up all the weeds, and all the vines too, and even neglected to bury the old man.
“It is all very well,” said the Monkey, “to laugh at my offspring, but you go into any
gallery of antique sculpture and look at the statues and busts of the fellows that you begot yourself.”
“’Sh! don’t expose me,” said Jupiter, and awarded her the first prize.
“No,” said the Dog; “if I were to accept that, it might be thought that in biting you I was
actuated by improper motives.”
“I desired,” replied the Dog, “merely to harmonise myself with the Divine Scheme of
Things. I‘m a child of Nature.”
“Did you ever practise Gohomoeopathy?” the Birds inquired, winking faintly.
“Behold your work! If you had not taught me to steal, I should not have come to this.”
“Indeed!” said the Mother. “And who, pray, taught you to be detected?”
“I should have felt bad, indeed,” he said, “to think that any other eagle had a hand in
this.”
“Who art thou?” asked the Man, “and why dost thou dwell in this dreadful
place?”
“My name,” replied the Woman, “is Truth; and I live in the desert in order to be near my
worshippers when they are driven from among their fellows. They all come, sooner or later.”
“Well,” said the Man, looking about, “the country doesn’t seem to be very
thickly settled here.”
“The priest will catch you and sacrifice you,” said the Wolf, “if you remain
there.”
“It is just as well to be sacrificed by the priest as to be eaten by you,” said the Lamb.
“My friend,” said the Wolf, “it pains me to see you considering so great a question from
a purely selfish point of view. It is not just as well for me.”
“I should not so much mind that,” replied the Lion, “if they would get the right one.
However, I am willing to stop fighting, and then perhaps I can grab a vulture. I like chicken better than pork,
anyhow.”
“Why,” said the Ant, “did you not store up some food for yourself, instead of singing all
the time?”
“So I did,” said the Grasshopper; “so I did; but you fellows broke in and carried it all
away.”
“I pray you put me back into the stream, for I can be of no use to you; the gods do not eat fish.”
“True,” said the Fish, “but as soon as Jupiter has heard of your exploit, he will elevate
you to the deitage. You are the only man that ever caught a small fish.”
“Alas!” said the Farmer, seeing the result; “if that grain had not been heavily insured, I
might have had to dissemble my hatred of the Fox.”
“If this fool,” she said, “should have an uneasy dream and roll into the well men would
say that I did it. It is painful to me to be unjustly accused, and I shall see that I am not.”
So he swooped down upon the boasting bird and was about to destroy him, when the vanquished Cock came
out of his hiding-place, and between the two the Hawk was calamitously defeated.
“Come in,” said one of them, ironically, “and partake of your favourite dish, a haunch of
mutton.”
“Thank you,” said the Wolf, moving away, “but you must excuse me; I have just had a
saddle of shepherd.”
“Well, well, well,” said the Ass, shaking his head; “I should think that any animal that is
afraid of your voice and doesn’t mind mine must have an uncommon kind of ear.”
“You seem to think,” replied the Sheep, “that it is an easy thing to dismiss dogs. Have
you always found it so?”
“I am a little bit on the destroy myself,” said the Hen, tranquilly swallowing one of the little
reptiles; “and it is not an act of folly to provide oneself with the delicacies of the season.”
A Seasonable Joke
A Spendthrift, seeing a single swallow, pawned his cloak, thinking that Summer was at hand. It was.
Hearing this, the others honourably abstained, and the claimant ate the Shepherd all himself.
“Because, my child,” replied the Buck, “my temper is so uncertain that if I permit one of
those noisy creatures to come into my presence I am likely to forget myself and do him an injury.”
“Be quiet, or I will throw you out of the window, and the wolves will get you.”
So he waited all day below the window, growing more hungry all the time. But at night the Old Man, having
returned from the village club, threw out both Mother and Child.
“I suppose,” said the Wolf, “you expect payment for that service.”
“A kind act,” replied the Ostrich, “is its own reward; I have eaten the keys.”
“I thank you, good deities,” said the Herdsman, continuing his prayer, “for showing me
the thief. And now if you will take him away, I will stand another goat.”
“The coldness of the human heart,” he said, with a grin, “will keep the creature in his
present condition until I can reach home and revive him on the coals.”
But the pleasures of hope so fired his heart that the Viper thawed, and sliding to the ground thanked the Man
civilly for his hospitality and glided away.
“Why should you not rather rejoice?” said the Man. “You were only an ordinary fellow
as an eagle; but as an old rooster you are a fowl of incomparable distinction.”
“No,” said the patriotic Miller, “I will employ no one who deserts his position in the
hour of danger. It is sweet to die for one’s country.”
Something in the sentiment sounded familiar, and, looking at the Miller more closely the War-horse
recognised his master in disguise.
“You ugly brute!” he cried; “how dare you look at me in that insolent way.”
He made a grab in the water, and, getting hold of what he supposed was the other dog’s lip, lifted out a
fine piece of meat which a butcher’s boy had dropped into the stream.
“Well,” said the Truthful Man, “the weather is not right for fishing, but it‘s a
red-letter day for music.”
“Not so,” said the Fox; “the Hare was here long ago, and went back to cheer you on
your way.”
“Indolent fellow!” said Hercules; “you ask me to help you, but will not help
yourself.”
So the Carter helped himself to so many of the most valuable goods that the horses easily ran away with the
remainder.
“With pleasure,” said the Bull, “as soon as you have refreshed yourself a little for the
journey. Pray have some grass.”
So he killed the Goose and cut her open, but found that she was just like any other goose. Moreover, on
examining the eggs that she had laid he found they were just like any other eggs.
“Why do you stay up there in that sterile place and go hungry?” said the Wolf. “Down
here where I am the broken-bottle vine cometh up as a flower, the celluloid collar blossoms as the rose, and
the tin-can tree brings forth after its kind.”
“That is true, no doubt,” said the Goat, “but how about the circus-poster crop? I hear
that it failed this year down there.”
The Wolf, perceiving that he was being chaffed, went away and resumed his duties at the doors of the poor.
“Hold!” said Jupiter; “this self-made bird has more sense than any of you. He is your
king.”
“If you will spare my life, I will do as much for you some day.”
The Lion, good-naturedly let him go. It happened shortly afterwards that the Lion was caught by some
hunters and bound with cords. The Mouse, passing that way, and seeing that his benefactor was helpless,
gnawed off his tail.
Pulling a single stick from the bundle, he broke it easily upon the head of the eldest Son, and this he repeated
until all had been served.
“Why don’t you walk straight forward yourself,” said the Son.
“Erring youth,” replied the Logical Crab, “you are introducing new and irrelevant
matter.”
“I may be a baby,” said the Mouse, gravely, as he passed outward through the forest of shins,
“but I know tolerably well how to diagnose a volcano.”
“Why,” said they, “should we be all the time tucking you out with food when you do
nothing to tuck us out?”
So, resolving to take no further action, they went away, and looking backward had the satisfaction to see the
Bellamy compelled to sell his own book.
“Be content—is it nothing that I refrained from advising you about investments?”
“I beg that you will set me free, and I will some day requite your kindness.”
Pleased and flattered to be bribed, although by nothing but an empty promise, the Judge let him go. Soon
afterward he found that it was more than an empty promise, for, having become a Thief, he was himself set
free by the other, who had become a Judge.
“Let us live, my friends,” said one of the Legislators to the others; “the world is better
than we thought. It contains meaner thieves than we.”
The Manufacturer, seeing that he could get no labour for a long time and finding the times pretty hard
anyhow, burned down his shoe factory for the insurance, and when the strikers wanted to resume work there
was no work to resume. So they boycotted a tanner.
OLD SAWS WITH NEW TEETH CERTAIN ANCIENT FABLES APPLIED TO THE LIFE OF OUR TIMES
80
Fantastic Fables
Under the new policy he got so many subscribers that his rivals endeavoured to discover the secret of his
prosperity, but he kept it, and when he died it died with him.
“Because,” replied the Honest Miner, “I was so busy digging out gold that I had no
leisure to lay up something worth while.”
“If you waste your time in profitless amusement, you cannot, of course, expect to share the rewards of
industry.”
So the Statesman resolved that he too would be honest, and the result was that he died of want.
“Now that you have robbed me of my land, there is nothing for me to do but issue invitations to a
war-dance.”
“I don’t so much mind your dancing,” said the White Settler, putting a fresh cartridge
into his rifle, “but if you attempt to make me dance you will become a good Indian lamented by all
who didn’t know you. How did you get this land, anyhow?”
The Indian’s claim was compromised for a plug hat and a tin horn.
“Alas!” he exclaimed as he was carried out, “why was I not content to remain where the
cut of my forehead is so common as to be known as the Pacific Slope?”
“My friends, I beg you will desist. I know you make a great deal of money by this kind of thing, but
consider the damage you inflict upon the business of others!”
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