The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Fairy Godmother-in-law

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Fairy Godmother-in-lawThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: The Fairy Godmother-in-lawAuthor: Oliver HerfordRelease date: July 5, 2019 [eBook #59858]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by David Edwards, John Campbell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAIRY GODMOTHER-IN-LAW ***

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: The Fairy Godmother-in-lawAuthor: Oliver HerfordRelease date: July 5, 2019 [eBook #59858]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by David Edwards, John Campbell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

Title: The Fairy Godmother-in-law

Author: Oliver Herford

Release date: July 5, 2019 [eBook #59858]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by David Edwards, John Campbell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAIRY GODMOTHER-IN-LAW ***

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTESome minor changes to the text are noted at theend of the book.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Some minor changes to the text are noted at theend of the book.

BOOKS BY OLIVER HERFORDWITH PICTURES BY THE AUTHORPUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONSTHE BASHFUL EARTHQUAKE$1.25A CHILD’S PRIMER OF NATURAL HISTORY$1.25OVERHEARD IN A GARDEN$1.25MORE ANIMALSnet, $1.00THE RUBAIYAT OF A PERSIAN KITTENnet, $1.00THE FAIRY GODMOTHER-IN-LAWnet, $1.00

BOOKS BY OLIVER HERFORD

WITH PICTURES BY THE AUTHOR

PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

THE BASHFUL EARTHQUAKE$1.25A CHILD’S PRIMER OF NATURAL HISTORY$1.25OVERHEARD IN A GARDEN$1.25MORE ANIMALSnet, $1.00THE RUBAIYAT OF A PERSIAN KITTENnet, $1.00THE FAIRY GODMOTHER-IN-LAWnet, $1.00

The FairyGodmother-in-Law

Oliver Herford

With Some PicturesBy the Author

New York· Published by

Charles Scribner’s Sons

Published, November, 1905

THE TROW PRESS · NEW YORK

To M. H.

PAGEThe Fairy Godmother-in-law1The Charm that Failed31The Silver Question41How the Lion Became King47The Wakeful Princess55A Modern Dialogue65The Heart of Ice71The Judgment of Bishop Valentine75The Bachelor Girl78Mephisto80A Corner in Curls83The Hydrant-Headed Monster93To My Toy Canary95The Hand of Time101Envoi103

It is not always well to placeUnbounded Faith in Fairy Lore,Believing that in every caseThey all lived Happy evermore.Stranger than Fiction though we deemThe Truth, it does not follow, too,That Fairy Tales, because they seemStill Stranger, must be still more True.Far be it from me to assailThe Truthfulness of Fairy Writ,But let us take a Well-Known TaleAnd see what really came of it.

It is not always well to placeUnbounded Faith in Fairy Lore,Believing that in every caseThey all lived Happy evermore.

It is not always well to place

Unbounded Faith in Fairy Lore,

Believing that in every case

They all lived Happy evermore.

Stranger than Fiction though we deemThe Truth, it does not follow, too,That Fairy Tales, because they seemStill Stranger, must be still more True.

Stranger than Fiction though we deem

The Truth, it does not follow, too,

That Fairy Tales, because they seem

Still Stranger, must be still more True.

Far be it from me to assailThe Truthfulness of Fairy Writ,But let us take a Well-Known TaleAnd see what really came of it.

Far be it from me to assail

The Truthfulness of Fairy Writ,

But let us take a Well-Known Tale

And see what really came of it.

When Cinderella wed the PrinceShe thought him all her Fancy Painted,And this was not surprising sinceThey were not very Well Acquainted.While he, not dreaming where she gotGlass slippers, counted on aDot.The Prince was Brave, Industrious, Wise:Brave in bright Silks and Satins gay,Wise in the Lore of Ladies’ Eyes,And most Industrious—at Play;A Leader, too—in Fashion’s Set;And Deep—that is to say, in Debt.

When Cinderella wed the Prince

She thought him all her Fancy Painted,

And this was not surprising since

They were not very Well Acquainted.

While he, not dreaming where she got

Glass slippers, counted on aDot.

The Prince was Brave, Industrious, Wise:Brave in bright Silks and Satins gay,Wise in the Lore of Ladies’ Eyes,And most Industrious—at Play;A Leader, too—in Fashion’s Set;And Deep—that is to say, in Debt.

The Prince was Brave, Industrious, Wise:

Brave in bright Silks and Satins gay,

Wise in the Lore of Ladies’ Eyes,

And most Industrious—at Play;

A Leader, too—in Fashion’s Set;

And Deep—that is to say, in Debt.

Who was the Somebody of Note?(I never could remember names)Was it Mark Twain or Mr. ChoateOr Mrs. Ward or Henry JamesThat penn’d those words of Wise Import,“Who weds in haste repents—in court”?But let us not Anticipate.The Princess wore a Plain Gold Frock;No Fairy Dress to spoil the fêteBy vanishing at Twelve o’clock.This time no Spell her pleasure blighted—Her god-mamma was not invited.Not that she really meant to floutHer Benefactress; but you seeShe had not told the Prince aboutHer Fairy Godmother, lest heMight change his mind if he foresawA Fairy God-mamma-in-law.A Fairy may be Good or Ill,A Godmother Morose or Gay;A Mother-in-law, say what you will,Is not immortal any way.But wouldn’t it a Bridegroom stunTo think of all three rolled in one?

Who was the Somebody of Note?

(I never could remember names)

Was it Mark Twain or Mr. Choate

Or Mrs. Ward or Henry James

That penn’d those words of Wise Import,

“Who weds in haste repents—in court”?

But let us not Anticipate.The Princess wore a Plain Gold Frock;No Fairy Dress to spoil the fêteBy vanishing at Twelve o’clock.This time no Spell her pleasure blighted—Her god-mamma was not invited.

But let us not Anticipate.

The Princess wore a Plain Gold Frock;

No Fairy Dress to spoil the fête

By vanishing at Twelve o’clock.

This time no Spell her pleasure blighted—

Her god-mamma was not invited.

Not that she really meant to floutHer Benefactress; but you seeShe had not told the Prince aboutHer Fairy Godmother, lest heMight change his mind if he foresawA Fairy God-mamma-in-law.

Not that she really meant to flout

Her Benefactress; but you see

She had not told the Prince about

Her Fairy Godmother, lest he

Might change his mind if he foresaw

A Fairy God-mamma-in-law.

A Fairy may be Good or Ill,A Godmother Morose or Gay;A Mother-in-law, say what you will,Is not immortal any way.But wouldn’t it a Bridegroom stunTo think of all three rolled in one?

A Fairy may be Good or Ill,

A Godmother Morose or Gay;

A Mother-in-law, say what you will,

Is not immortal any way.

But wouldn’t it a Bridegroom stun

To think of all three rolled in one?

All day the envelope she scann’d.But though her royal name it bore,’Twas in an Unfamiliar Hand.The Postmark puzzled her still more.The Princess could not understandWho’d write to her from——

All day the envelope she scann’d.

But though her royal name it bore,

’Twas in an Unfamiliar Hand.

The Postmark puzzled her still more.

The Princess could not understand

Who’d write to her from——

NO-MANS LAND

She turned it Left, she turned it Right,She pinched it, shook itto and fro,She held it up against the Light,And topsy-turvy wise—but no,It still continued to preserveIts air of Self-contained Reserve.One day the Princess in a Pet,It was her Last, her only hope,Summoned her Trusty Cabinet,To Sit upon the Envelope,And at no matter what expense,To end her Terrible Suspense.But all their Learnéd ConsultationsEnded in Nought, for what availMere Man’sUnerring CalculationsWhere WOMAN’S Intuitions fail?Their Weighty Brains refused to copeWith that Unyielding Envelope.

She turned it Left, she turned it Right,

She pinched it, shook itto and fro,

She held it up against the Light,

And topsy-turvy wise—but no,

It still continued to preserve

Its air of Self-contained Reserve.

One day the Princess in a Pet,It was her Last, her only hope,Summoned her Trusty Cabinet,To Sit upon the Envelope,And at no matter what expense,To end her Terrible Suspense.

One day the Princess in a Pet,

It was her Last, her only hope,

Summoned her Trusty Cabinet,

To Sit upon the Envelope,

And at no matter what expense,

To end her Terrible Suspense.

But all their Learnéd ConsultationsEnded in Nought, for what availMere Man’sUnerring CalculationsWhere WOMAN’S Intuitions fail?Their Weighty Brains refused to copeWith that Unyielding Envelope.

But all their Learnéd Consultations

Ended in Nought, for what avail

Mere Man’sUnerring Calculations

Where WOMAN’S Intuitions fail?

Their Weighty Brains refused to cope

With that Unyielding Envelope.

She put the matter in the HandsOf the Police; she went to seeAstrologers from Foreign LandsAnd experts in Chirography;And offered Large Rewards to allWho furnished Clues, however small.But no one came for the Reward,Nor would the Envelope betrayThe Secret in its bosom stored,When by the Merest Chance one dayShe overheard a Child, who cried,“If it were mine, I’d look inside.”Tossing the Tot a Thousand Pounds,The Princess to her Chamber sped;Her Joy and Rapture knew no bounds;She tore the Envelope and readA note from god-mamma, to say,She might expect her any day.

She put the matter in the HandsOf the Police; she went to seeAstrologers from Foreign LandsAnd experts in Chirography;And offered Large Rewards to allWho furnished Clues, however small.

She put the matter in the Hands

Of the Police; she went to see

Astrologers from Foreign Lands

And experts in Chirography;

And offered Large Rewards to all

Who furnished Clues, however small.

But no one came for the Reward,Nor would the Envelope betrayThe Secret in its bosom stored,When by the Merest Chance one dayShe overheard a Child, who cried,“If it were mine, I’d look inside.”

But no one came for the Reward,

Nor would the Envelope betray

The Secret in its bosom stored,

When by the Merest Chance one day

She overheard a Child, who cried,

“If it were mine, I’d look inside.”

Tossing the Tot a Thousand Pounds,The Princess to her Chamber sped;Her Joy and Rapture knew no bounds;She tore the Envelope and read

Tossing the Tot a Thousand Pounds,

The Princess to her Chamber sped;

Her Joy and Rapture knew no bounds;

She tore the Envelope and read

A note from god-mamma, to say,She might expect her any day.

A note from god-mamma, to say,

She might expect her any day.

One day as Cinderella ateHer Simple Lunch of sixteen courses,A Golden Coach drove up in state,Drawn by a team of Mouse-Grey horses,And on the carriage door were scrolledThe Letters F. G. M., in gold.The Princess dropped a Jelly Roll,Which tipped with Pink her Crystal Shoe,And cried, “O my prophetic soul!My God-mamma! What shall I do?”Then, Ladylike, she cut the knotBy simply fainting on the spot.

One day as Cinderella ateHer Simple Lunch of sixteen courses,A Golden Coach drove up in state,Drawn by a team of Mouse-Grey horses,And on the carriage door were scrolledThe Letters F. G. M., in gold.

One day as Cinderella ate

Her Simple Lunch of sixteen courses,

A Golden Coach drove up in state,

Drawn by a team of Mouse-Grey horses,

And on the carriage door were scrolled

The Letters F. G. M., in gold.

The Princess dropped a Jelly Roll,Which tipped with Pink her Crystal Shoe,And cried, “O my prophetic soul!My God-mamma! What shall I do?”Then, Ladylike, she cut the knotBy simply fainting on the spot.

The Princess dropped a Jelly Roll,

Which tipped with Pink her Crystal Shoe,

And cried, “O my prophetic soul!

My God-mamma! What shall I do?”

Then, Ladylike, she cut the knot

By simply fainting on the spot.

Strong Fairy Salts soon brought her to.She looked up in a startled way.“Why, God-mamma—can that be you?How sweet! Ihopeyou’ve come to stay.The Prince will simply be enchanted.”“Your Wish,” quoth God-mamma, “is granted.”True to her word, the Fairy soonWas quite at home. The royal AtticShe turned into a Grand Saloon,Where with her cats she reigned ecstatic.“Henceforth,” said she, “I’ll live at leisure,And only work my Spells for pleasure.”She had a Sense of Humor dry,She loved her Little Joke—and tho’None of her Tricks were prompted byA spiteful heart or love of show,To love one’s Joke does not, it’s true,Imply that Others love it too.She had a disconcerting way,When Argument became a bore,Of saying what she had to sayAnd disappearing through the Floor,A joke that never failed to causeA weird, if not side-splitting, Pause.At meals, if there appeared a dishGod-mamma did not find appealing,She’d wave her wand, and Fowl or FishWould promptly vanish thro’ the ceiling,And in its place would beFried MoleOrCrocodile en casserole.

Strong Fairy Salts soon brought her to.

She looked up in a startled way.

“Why, God-mamma—can that be you?

How sweet! Ihopeyou’ve come to stay.

The Prince will simply be enchanted.”

“Your Wish,” quoth God-mamma, “is granted.”

True to her word, the Fairy soonWas quite at home. The royal AtticShe turned into a Grand Saloon,Where with her cats she reigned ecstatic.“Henceforth,” said she, “I’ll live at leisure,And only work my Spells for pleasure.”

True to her word, the Fairy soon

Was quite at home. The royal Attic

She turned into a Grand Saloon,

Where with her cats she reigned ecstatic.

“Henceforth,” said she, “I’ll live at leisure,

And only work my Spells for pleasure.”

She had a Sense of Humor dry,She loved her Little Joke—and tho’None of her Tricks were prompted byA spiteful heart or love of show,To love one’s Joke does not, it’s true,Imply that Others love it too.

She had a Sense of Humor dry,

She loved her Little Joke—and tho’

None of her Tricks were prompted by

A spiteful heart or love of show,

To love one’s Joke does not, it’s true,

Imply that Others love it too.

She had a disconcerting way,When Argument became a bore,Of saying what she had to sayAnd disappearing through the Floor,A joke that never failed to causeA weird, if not side-splitting, Pause.

She had a disconcerting way,

When Argument became a bore,

Of saying what she had to say

And disappearing through the Floor,

A joke that never failed to cause

A weird, if not side-splitting, Pause.

At meals, if there appeared a dishGod-mamma did not find appealing,She’d wave her wand, and Fowl or FishWould promptly vanish thro’ the ceiling,And in its place would beFried MoleOrCrocodile en casserole.

At meals, if there appeared a dish

God-mamma did not find appealing,

She’d wave her wand, and Fowl or Fish

Would promptly vanish thro’ the ceiling,

And in its place would beFried Mole

OrCrocodile en casserole.

One day some Ladies of the CourtPerformed a Play which bored her so,She up and cried, “That’s not my sort!”And changed it to a Ballet show.A Tactless Joke, which caused, of course,Much talk—and more than one Divorce.But nothing gave her such delight,Or keener Sense of Humor showed,Than when the Prince came home at night;She’d change his door-key to a Toad,And laugh to see it hop about,Or turn the Key-Hole inside out.Once, weary of her Pesterings,The Prince apostrophized a bird,Exclaiming, “Would I too had wings!”It chanced the Fairy overheard,And, with the very best intentions,Granted him wings of Large Dimensions.Now wings (as any NaturalistWill tell you) are but variationsOf arms, and cannot co-existWith such-like Brachial Formations.Accordingly, he lost his arms,Which handicaps a Prince’s charms.To his embarrassment and woe,He had to be both dressed and fedAnd brushed and bathed and put—but no,That he was spared. His Wings when spreadWere Forty Feet from side to side;Bed was a luxury denied.

One day some Ladies of the Court

Performed a Play which bored her so,

She up and cried, “That’s not my sort!”

And changed it to a Ballet show.

A Tactless Joke, which caused, of course,

Much talk—and more than one Divorce.

But nothing gave her such delight,Or keener Sense of Humor showed,Than when the Prince came home at night;She’d change his door-key to a Toad,And laugh to see it hop about,Or turn the Key-Hole inside out.

But nothing gave her such delight,

Or keener Sense of Humor showed,

Than when the Prince came home at night;

She’d change his door-key to a Toad,

And laugh to see it hop about,

Or turn the Key-Hole inside out.

Once, weary of her Pesterings,The Prince apostrophized a bird,Exclaiming, “Would I too had wings!”It chanced the Fairy overheard,And, with the very best intentions,Granted him wings of Large Dimensions.

Once, weary of her Pesterings,

The Prince apostrophized a bird,

Exclaiming, “Would I too had wings!”

It chanced the Fairy overheard,

And, with the very best intentions,

Granted him wings of Large Dimensions.

Now wings (as any NaturalistWill tell you) are but variationsOf arms, and cannot co-existWith such-like Brachial Formations.Accordingly, he lost his arms,Which handicaps a Prince’s charms.

Now wings (as any Naturalist

Will tell you) are but variations

Of arms, and cannot co-exist

With such-like Brachial Formations.

Accordingly, he lost his arms,

Which handicaps a Prince’s charms.

To his embarrassment and woe,He had to be both dressed and fedAnd brushed and bathed and put—but no,That he was spared. His Wings when spreadWere Forty Feet from side to side;Bed was a luxury denied.

To his embarrassment and woe,

He had to be both dressed and fed

And brushed and bathed and put—but no,

That he was spared. His Wings when spread

Were Forty Feet from side to side;

Bed was a luxury denied.

He soon repented of his Whim.With wings like windmill sails, of course,No room was big enough for him.So all night long, in Chill Remorse,He perched upon the roof. At dawnThe spell was happily withdrawn.About this time the Princess plannedA grand Subscription Ball, to aidThe Starving Shepherds of the land.The Prince, when told the shepherds’ tradeIncluded Shepherdesses too,Subscribed a Thumping I. O. U.Upon the evening of the ball,It chanced that God-mamma-in-law,Flitting about the Palace Hall,Passed by the Prince’s Suite, and sawHis gladsome Evening Robes outspreadIn neat array upon the bed.She eyed them sadly. Here in placesThe silken pile was wearing thin;And here were stains and here were tracesOf where the Moth had broken in.“Aha! Aha! it’s plain to seeThis is a little job for me!“I’ll make him a new suit,” said she,“A brave new suit without a flaw.I’d like to know what Home would beWithout a God-mamma-in-law.”And in its place upon the bedA Fairy Substitute she spread.All unobserved, she slipped away,Delighted with her Little Game,And, seeking some new trick to play,To Cinderella’s closet came.Where for her golden robe of stateShe left a Fairy Duplicate.Dressed for the ball, they drove in State,Looking superlatively swell;God-mamma pleadedmal de têteAnd from her window waved farewell.Her voice rose o’er the people’s cheers,“Be back at twelve o’clock my dears!”

He soon repented of his Whim.

With wings like windmill sails, of course,

No room was big enough for him.

So all night long, in Chill Remorse,

He perched upon the roof. At dawn

The spell was happily withdrawn.

About this time the Princess plannedA grand Subscription Ball, to aidThe Starving Shepherds of the land.The Prince, when told the shepherds’ tradeIncluded Shepherdesses too,Subscribed a Thumping I. O. U.

About this time the Princess planned

A grand Subscription Ball, to aid

The Starving Shepherds of the land.

The Prince, when told the shepherds’ trade

Included Shepherdesses too,

Subscribed a Thumping I. O. U.

Upon the evening of the ball,It chanced that God-mamma-in-law,Flitting about the Palace Hall,Passed by the Prince’s Suite, and sawHis gladsome Evening Robes outspreadIn neat array upon the bed.

Upon the evening of the ball,

It chanced that God-mamma-in-law,

Flitting about the Palace Hall,

Passed by the Prince’s Suite, and saw

His gladsome Evening Robes outspread

In neat array upon the bed.

She eyed them sadly. Here in placesThe silken pile was wearing thin;And here were stains and here were tracesOf where the Moth had broken in.“Aha! Aha! it’s plain to seeThis is a little job for me!

She eyed them sadly. Here in places

The silken pile was wearing thin;

And here were stains and here were traces

Of where the Moth had broken in.

“Aha! Aha! it’s plain to see

This is a little job for me!

“I’ll make him a new suit,” said she,“A brave new suit without a flaw.I’d like to know what Home would beWithout a God-mamma-in-law.”And in its place upon the bedA Fairy Substitute she spread.

“I’ll make him a new suit,” said she,

“A brave new suit without a flaw.

I’d like to know what Home would be

Without a God-mamma-in-law.”

And in its place upon the bed

A Fairy Substitute she spread.

All unobserved, she slipped away,Delighted with her Little Game,And, seeking some new trick to play,To Cinderella’s closet came.Where for her golden robe of stateShe left a Fairy Duplicate.

All unobserved, she slipped away,

Delighted with her Little Game,

And, seeking some new trick to play,

To Cinderella’s closet came.

Where for her golden robe of state

She left a Fairy Duplicate.

Dressed for the ball, they drove in State,Looking superlatively swell;God-mamma pleadedmal de têteAnd from her window waved farewell.Her voice rose o’er the people’s cheers,“Be back at twelve o’clock my dears!”

Dressed for the ball, they drove in State,

Looking superlatively swell;

God-mamma pleadedmal de tête

And from her window waved farewell.

Her voice rose o’er the people’s cheers,

“Be back at twelve o’clock my dears!”

Before the splendors of the BallThe Boldest Metaphor grows tame;Superlatives abjectly crawlBack to their lexicon in shame,And Synonyms in shrieking chorusTake refuge in the deep Thesaurus.But language has its Pioneers,Who seek Fresh Words and Postures new,Slang rushes in where Syntax fearsTo tread—so Ifor Ade halloo,And say (with George’s kind permission)It was “A Heated Proposition.”The Princess never dreamed her frockOf gold was wrought by fairy power.And set, like an alarming Clock,To go offat the midnight hour.Her childish laugh rang with delight:“Thank God-mamma’s not here to-night.”Prince Charming looked his very bestTo—I mean at—the Ladies Fair;No dread foreboding stirred his breast;No Writing on the Wall was thereTo Tell him of the Awful ShockAwaiting him at Twelve O’clock.

Before the splendors of the BallThe Boldest Metaphor grows tame;Superlatives abjectly crawlBack to their lexicon in shame,And Synonyms in shrieking chorusTake refuge in the deep Thesaurus.

Before the splendors of the Ball

The Boldest Metaphor grows tame;

Superlatives abjectly crawl

Back to their lexicon in shame,

And Synonyms in shrieking chorus

Take refuge in the deep Thesaurus.

But language has its Pioneers,Who seek Fresh Words and Postures new,Slang rushes in where Syntax fearsTo tread—so Ifor Ade halloo,And say (with George’s kind permission)It was “A Heated Proposition.”

But language has its Pioneers,

Who seek Fresh Words and Postures new,

Slang rushes in where Syntax fears

To tread—so Ifor Ade halloo,

And say (with George’s kind permission)

It was “A Heated Proposition.”

The Princess never dreamed her frockOf gold was wrought by fairy power.And set, like an alarming Clock,To go offat the midnight hour.Her childish laugh rang with delight:“Thank God-mamma’s not here to-night.”

The Princess never dreamed her frock

Of gold was wrought by fairy power.

And set, like an alarming Clock,

To go offat the midnight hour.

Her childish laugh rang with delight:

“Thank God-mamma’s not here to-night.”

Prince Charming looked his very bestTo—I mean at—the Ladies Fair;No dread foreboding stirred his breast;No Writing on the Wall was thereTo Tell him of the Awful ShockAwaiting him at Twelve O’clock.

Prince Charming looked his very best

To—I mean at—the Ladies Fair;

No dread foreboding stirred his breast;

No Writing on the Wall was there

To Tell him of the Awful Shock

Awaiting him at Twelve O’clock.

Again (see chapter onThe Ball)The Boldest Metaphor grows tame;Superlatives abjectly crawlBack to their lexicon in shame,And Synonyms in shrieking chorusTake refuge in the deep Thesaurus.But every cloud that bars the sunThey say with silverwear is lined;And tho’ they felt they were Undone,Their Highnesses were cheered to findAt midnight when their Robes took wings,They kept their—well, their Other Things.

Again (see chapter onThe Ball)The Boldest Metaphor grows tame;Superlatives abjectly crawlBack to their lexicon in shame,And Synonyms in shrieking chorusTake refuge in the deep Thesaurus.

Again (see chapter onThe Ball)

The Boldest Metaphor grows tame;

Superlatives abjectly crawl

Back to their lexicon in shame,

And Synonyms in shrieking chorus

Take refuge in the deep Thesaurus.

But every cloud that bars the sunThey say with silverwear is lined;And tho’ they felt they were Undone,Their Highnesses were cheered to findAt midnight when their Robes took wings,They kept their—well, their Other Things.

But every cloud that bars the sun

They say with silverwear is lined;

And tho’ they felt they were Undone,

Their Highnesses were cheered to find

At midnight when their Robes took wings,

They kept their—well, their Other Things.

Perchance, Dear Reader, you have notedIn that Department which to Trade isBy Monthly Magazines devoted,

Perchance, Dear Reader, you have noted

In that Department which to Trade is

By Monthly Magazines devoted,

Perchance, Dear Reader, you have notedIn that Department which to Trade isBy Monthly Magazines devoted,

Perchance, Dear Reader, you have noted

In that Department which to Trade is

By Monthly Magazines devoted,

The Pleasant Gentlemen and LadiesWhose Union Suits our souls bewitch—The Simple Flannels of the Rich.

The Pleasant Gentlemen and Ladies

Whose Union Suits our souls bewitch—

The Simple Flannels of the Rich.

The Pleasant Gentlemen and LadiesWhose Union Suits our souls bewitch—The Simple Flannels of the Rich.

The Pleasant Gentlemen and Ladies

Whose Union Suits our souls bewitch—

The Simple Flannels of the Rich.

Even arrayed as one of these,In Homespun stood the Royal Twain,While people cried, on bended knees,“Long live their Majesties! who deignThus by example to RestoreOur Woolen Industry of Yore!”Thro’ all the Land the Tidings spedFrom Door to Door, from Wife to Wife,Thro’ all the Land the Fashion spreadFor Woolen and the Simple Life.New looms sprang up on every handAnd shepherds prospered in the land.Poor God-mamma, ’twas her last caper;One night to throw some Light aboutShe changed herself into a Taper,And Cinderella blew her out.The Princess then divorced the Prince,And Both lived Happy Ever Since.

Even arrayed as one of these,In Homespun stood the Royal Twain,While people cried, on bended knees,“Long live their Majesties! who deignThus by example to RestoreOur Woolen Industry of Yore!”

Even arrayed as one of these,

In Homespun stood the Royal Twain,

While people cried, on bended knees,

“Long live their Majesties! who deign

Thus by example to Restore

Our Woolen Industry of Yore!”

Thro’ all the Land the Tidings spedFrom Door to Door, from Wife to Wife,Thro’ all the Land the Fashion spreadFor Woolen and the Simple Life.New looms sprang up on every handAnd shepherds prospered in the land.

Thro’ all the Land the Tidings sped

From Door to Door, from Wife to Wife,

Thro’ all the Land the Fashion spread

For Woolen and the Simple Life.

New looms sprang up on every hand

And shepherds prospered in the land.

Poor God-mamma, ’twas her last caper;One night to throw some Light aboutShe changed herself into a Taper,And Cinderella blew her out.The Princess then divorced the Prince,And Both lived Happy Ever Since.

Poor God-mamma, ’twas her last caper;

One night to throw some Light about

She changed herself into a Taper,

And Cinderella blew her out.

The Princess then divorced the Prince,

And Both lived Happy Ever Since.

The Hero of my taleThe Hero of my taleWas a serpent—don’t turn pale!My snake was not the “serpent” of TheologyWith an apple up his sleeveTo tempt some child of Eve,Nor was he versed in deadly Toxicology.No, his fangs were free from guile,And he had a roomy smile.There was no more harmless snake in all Zoology.

The Hero of my tale

Was a serpent—don’t turn pale!

My snake was not the “serpent” of Theology

With an apple up his sleeve

To tempt some child of Eve,

Nor was he versed in deadly Toxicology.

No, his fangs were free from guile,

And he had a roomy smile.

There was no more harmless snake in all Zoology.

But since no creature knownIs perfect, I will ownHe had one failing—vanity, alas! innate.He was also fond of sport,Though not a cruel sort:His aim was more to charm than to assassinate.He was often heard to say,When feeling rather gay,“I’d like to see the Bird I cannot fascinate!”And one daySome laughter-loving FayHis boasting heard,And sent a Bird.

But since no creature known

Is perfect, I will own

He had one failing—vanity, alas! innate.

He was also fond of sport,

Though not a cruel sort:

His aim was more to charm than to assassinate.

He was often heard to say,

When feeling rather gay,

“I’d like to see the Bird I cannot fascinate!”

And one daySome laughter-loving FayHis boasting heard,And sent a Bird.

And one day

Some laughter-loving Fay

His boasting heard,

And sent a Bird.

It was sitting, stuffed and stiff onA thing of straw and chiffon,Ribbands and lace and jet and such like finery,By a milliner begottenAnd some careless maid forgotten,In stuffed and lonely splendor in the Vinery,When with expectant eyeMr. Serpent, by and by,Strolled forth in search of game from out the Pinery.And the BirdNever stirredOr said a word.“Aha!” said Mr. Snake,“Unless I much mistake,Here’s a charming subject for a Trance Hypnotic;Soon I’ll have her in my toils!”And with mysterious coilsHe advanced with air complacent and despotic.Then he rose up, and let flyA glance from out his eye,And watched for the effect of his narcotic.And the BirdNever stirredOr said a word.Said Mr. Snake, “My spellSeems to work extremely well.”And straightway with Majestic Pride he puffed,But when an hour had pass’d,And still the Bird stood fast,I must confess he felt a trifle huff’d.“There’s something wrong,” said he,“With the Bird—or else with me.”How should he know the wretched thing was stuffed?That Bird,Who never stirredOr said a word.Mr. Snake was sorely troubled,And his efforts he redoubled,And he balanced on the tip end of his tail,Swaying to and fro the whileLike a pendulum—a styleThat hitherto he’d never known to fail.But not a word she uttered,And not a feather flutteredAs he plied his mystic Art without avail.

It was sitting, stuffed and stiff on

A thing of straw and chiffon,

Ribbands and lace and jet and such like finery,

By a milliner begotten

And some careless maid forgotten,

In stuffed and lonely splendor in the Vinery,

When with expectant eye

Mr. Serpent, by and by,

Strolled forth in search of game from out the Pinery.

And the BirdNever stirredOr said a word.

And the Bird

Never stirred

Or said a word.

“Aha!” said Mr. Snake,“Unless I much mistake,Here’s a charming subject for a Trance Hypnotic;Soon I’ll have her in my toils!”And with mysterious coilsHe advanced with air complacent and despotic.Then he rose up, and let flyA glance from out his eye,And watched for the effect of his narcotic.

“Aha!” said Mr. Snake,

“Unless I much mistake,

Here’s a charming subject for a Trance Hypnotic;

Soon I’ll have her in my toils!”

And with mysterious coils

He advanced with air complacent and despotic.

Then he rose up, and let fly

A glance from out his eye,

And watched for the effect of his narcotic.

And the BirdNever stirredOr said a word.

And the Bird

Never stirred

Or said a word.

Said Mr. Snake, “My spellSeems to work extremely well.”And straightway with Majestic Pride he puffed,But when an hour had pass’d,And still the Bird stood fast,I must confess he felt a trifle huff’d.“There’s something wrong,” said he,“With the Bird—or else with me.”How should he know the wretched thing was stuffed?

Said Mr. Snake, “My spell

Seems to work extremely well.”

And straightway with Majestic Pride he puffed,

But when an hour had pass’d,

And still the Bird stood fast,

I must confess he felt a trifle huff’d.

“There’s something wrong,” said he,

“With the Bird—or else with me.”

How should he know the wretched thing was stuffed?

That Bird,Who never stirredOr said a word.

That Bird,

Who never stirred

Or said a word.

Mr. Snake was sorely troubled,And his efforts he redoubled,And he balanced on the tip end of his tail,Swaying to and fro the whileLike a pendulum—a styleThat hitherto he’d never known to fail.But not a word she uttered,And not a feather flutteredAs he plied his mystic Art without avail.

Mr. Snake was sorely troubled,

And his efforts he redoubled,

And he balanced on the tip end of his tail,

Swaying to and fro the while

Like a pendulum—a style

That hitherto he’d never known to fail.

But not a word she uttered,

And not a feather fluttered

As he plied his mystic Art without avail.

“Confound the bird!” he said,And he stood upon his headAnd waved his long mysterious tail in air,And he focussed all the raysOf his esoteric gazeInto one cold and petrifying glare.But the Deadly Glance fell wide;He might as well have triedTo hypnotize a table or a chair—As that Bird,Who never stirredOr said a word.“That settles it!” he cried.“I will not be defied!”And he coiled himself to spring—oh, rash proceeding!Like an arrow from a bowHe sprang—how should he knowThe Doom to which he was so swiftly speeding?Next moment he lay dead,With a Hat Pin through his head,Whereat, with most commendable good-breeding—The BirdNever stirredOr said a word.

“Confound the bird!” he said,

And he stood upon his head

And waved his long mysterious tail in air,

And he focussed all the rays

Of his esoteric gaze

Into one cold and petrifying glare.

But the Deadly Glance fell wide;

He might as well have tried

To hypnotize a table or a chair—

As that Bird,Who never stirredOr said a word.

As that Bird,

Who never stirred

Or said a word.

“That settles it!” he cried.“I will not be defied!”And he coiled himself to spring—oh, rash proceeding!Like an arrow from a bowHe sprang—how should he knowThe Doom to which he was so swiftly speeding?Next moment he lay dead,With a Hat Pin through his head,Whereat, with most commendable good-breeding—

“That settles it!” he cried.

“I will not be defied!”

And he coiled himself to spring—oh, rash proceeding!

Like an arrow from a bow

He sprang—how should he know

The Doom to which he was so swiftly speeding?

Next moment he lay dead,

With a Hat Pin through his head,

Whereat, with most commendable good-breeding—

The BirdNever stirredOr said a word.

The Bird

Never stirred

Or said a word.

The Sun appeared so smug and bright,One day, that I made boldTo ask him what he did each nightWith all his surplus gold.He flushed uncomfortably red,And would not meet my eye.“I travel round the world,” he said,“And travelling rates are high.”

The Sun appeared so smug and bright,One day, that I made boldTo ask him what he did each nightWith all his surplus gold.

The Sun appeared so smug and bright,

One day, that I made bold

To ask him what he did each night

With all his surplus gold.

He flushed uncomfortably red,And would not meet my eye.“I travel round the world,” he said,“And travelling rates are high.”

He flushed uncomfortably red,

And would not meet my eye.

“I travel round the world,” he said,

“And travelling rates are high.”

With frigid glance I pierced him through.He squirmed and changed his tune.Said he: “I will be frank with you:I lend it to the Moon.“Poor thing! You know she’s growing oldAnd hasn’t any folk.She suffers terribly from cold,And half the time she’s broke.”That evening on the beach I layBehind a lonely dune,And as she rose above the bayI buttonholed the Moon.“Tell me about that gold,” said I.I saw her features fall.“You see, it’s useless to deny;The Sun has told me all.”“Sir!” she exclaimed, “howcanyou tryAn honest Moon this way?As for the gold, I put it byAgainst a rainy day.”

With frigid glance I pierced him through.He squirmed and changed his tune.Said he: “I will be frank with you:I lend it to the Moon.

With frigid glance I pierced him through.

He squirmed and changed his tune.

Said he: “I will be frank with you:

I lend it to the Moon.

“Poor thing! You know she’s growing oldAnd hasn’t any folk.She suffers terribly from cold,And half the time she’s broke.”

“Poor thing! You know she’s growing old

And hasn’t any folk.

She suffers terribly from cold,

And half the time she’s broke.”

That evening on the beach I layBehind a lonely dune,And as she rose above the bayI buttonholed the Moon.

That evening on the beach I lay

Behind a lonely dune,

And as she rose above the bay

I buttonholed the Moon.

“Tell me about that gold,” said I.I saw her features fall.“You see, it’s useless to deny;The Sun has told me all.”

“Tell me about that gold,” said I.

I saw her features fall.

“You see, it’s useless to deny;

The Sun has told me all.”

“Sir!” she exclaimed, “howcanyou tryAn honest Moon this way?As for the gold, I put it byAgainst a rainy day.”

“Sir!” she exclaimed, “howcanyou try

An honest Moon this way?

As for the gold, I put it by

Against a rainy day.”

I smiled and shook my head. “All right,If youmustknow,” said she,“I change it into silver brightWherewith to tip the Sea.“He is so faithful and so good,A most deserving case;If he should leave, I fear it wouldBe hard to fill his place.”When asked if they accepted tips,The waves became so rough;I thought of those at sea in ships,And felt I’d said enough.For if one virtue I have learned,’Tistact; so I forboreTo press the matter, though I burnedTo ask one question more.I hate a scene, and do not wishTo be mixed up in gales,But, oh, I longed to ask the FishWhence came their silver scales!

I smiled and shook my head. “All right,If youmustknow,” said she,“I change it into silver brightWherewith to tip the Sea.

I smiled and shook my head. “All right,

If youmustknow,” said she,

“I change it into silver bright

Wherewith to tip the Sea.

“He is so faithful and so good,A most deserving case;If he should leave, I fear it wouldBe hard to fill his place.”

“He is so faithful and so good,

A most deserving case;

If he should leave, I fear it would

Be hard to fill his place.”

When asked if they accepted tips,The waves became so rough;I thought of those at sea in ships,And felt I’d said enough.

When asked if they accepted tips,

The waves became so rough;

I thought of those at sea in ships,

And felt I’d said enough.

For if one virtue I have learned,’Tistact; so I forboreTo press the matter, though I burnedTo ask one question more.

For if one virtue I have learned,

’Tistact; so I forbore

To press the matter, though I burned

To ask one question more.

I hate a scene, and do not wishTo be mixed up in gales,But, oh, I longed to ask the FishWhence came their silver scales!

I hate a scene, and do not wish

To be mixed up in gales,

But, oh, I longed to ask the Fish

Whence came their silver scales!

Once in the hazy days of Yore(I cannot very well be moreExplicit, since it was beforeDates were invented).Once on a time, as I beganTo say, the Lion formed a planTo undermine the rule of Man,Which he resented.In answer to the Lion’s call,His fellow-creatures, great and small,From earth and air came one and allIn Trepidation.He then delivered a discourse,And proved with eloquence and forceMan was their one and only sourceOf Tribulation.“What is he—taken at his best?A mere pretence! Not even dressed,If we his puny form divestOf spoil he’s looted.The fact that we can far excelHis boasted Strength and Speed, as wellAs Hearing, Sight, and Taste and Smell,Is undisputed.“I am not boasting when I ownfor Strength I’d back my claws aloneAgainst his battle-axe of stone;While, as to Vision,’Tis nothing more than idle talkTo mention Man beside the Hawk—The swift Horse, too, his clumsy walkViews with derision.“Only Man’s Ignorance, I’m boundTo say, could possibly confoundThe Scent and Hearing of the HoundWith his dull powers;As well his Taste, that gluts on fareLike half-burnt Antelope and Bear,With the fastidious Bee compare,That sips the flowers.

Once in the hazy days of Yore

(I cannot very well be more

Explicit, since it was before

Dates were invented).

Once on a time, as I began

To say, the Lion formed a plan

To undermine the rule of Man,

Which he resented.

In answer to the Lion’s call,His fellow-creatures, great and small,From earth and air came one and allIn Trepidation.He then delivered a discourse,And proved with eloquence and forceMan was their one and only sourceOf Tribulation.

In answer to the Lion’s call,

His fellow-creatures, great and small,

From earth and air came one and all

In Trepidation.

He then delivered a discourse,

And proved with eloquence and force

Man was their one and only source

Of Tribulation.

“What is he—taken at his best?A mere pretence! Not even dressed,If we his puny form divestOf spoil he’s looted.The fact that we can far excelHis boasted Strength and Speed, as wellAs Hearing, Sight, and Taste and Smell,Is undisputed.

“What is he—taken at his best?

A mere pretence! Not even dressed,

If we his puny form divest

Of spoil he’s looted.

The fact that we can far excel

His boasted Strength and Speed, as well

As Hearing, Sight, and Taste and Smell,

Is undisputed.

“I am not boasting when I ownfor Strength I’d back my claws aloneAgainst his battle-axe of stone;While, as to Vision,’Tis nothing more than idle talkTo mention Man beside the Hawk—The swift Horse, too, his clumsy walkViews with derision.

“I am not boasting when I own

for Strength I’d back my claws alone

Against his battle-axe of stone;

While, as to Vision,

’Tis nothing more than idle talk

To mention Man beside the Hawk—

The swift Horse, too, his clumsy walk

Views with derision.

“Only Man’s Ignorance, I’m boundTo say, could possibly confoundThe Scent and Hearing of the HoundWith his dull powers;As well his Taste, that gluts on fareLike half-burnt Antelope and Bear,With the fastidious Bee compare,That sips the flowers.

“Only Man’s Ignorance, I’m bound

To say, could possibly confound

The Scent and Hearing of the Hound

With his dull powers;

As well his Taste, that gluts on fare

Like half-burnt Antelope and Bear,

With the fastidious Bee compare,

That sips the flowers.

“And yet,” the Lion said, “though weOutshine Man to the last degreeCollectively, none holds as heThe Combination.”In short, the moral of his themeWas this: If Beasts would reign supremeTheir only practicable schemeWas Federation.

“And yet,” the Lion said, “though we

Outshine Man to the last degree

Collectively, none holds as he

The Combination.”

In short, the moral of his theme

Was this: If Beasts would reign supreme

Their only practicable scheme

Was Federation.

And so, in view of Public Need,The Hawk, Hound, Bee, and Horse agreedTo pool their Sight, Scent, Taste, and Speed;And in due seasonThey made,pro tem., the Lion King,Intrusting him with everythingUpon condition he would bringProud Man to reason.The crafty Lion then proposedTo send an Embassy composedOf those same four. As none opposed,They started straightway,And, coming to Man’s portals wide,They entered, but no trace espiedOf Man, until (from the outside)He closed the gateway.And there he kept them till they sworeTo be his servants evermore,And work his will, and bow beforeHis rod of iron:The Dog to watch, the Hawk to kill,The Horse to carry and to till,The Bee with sweets his jars to fill.All save the Lion—The Lion stayed at home—and purred,And kept thenceforth the crown conferredPro tem., and nothing more was heardAbout Conditions.So ends my tale. Perchance it bringsSome light to bear on certain things—Such as the Origin of Kings,And Politicians.

And so, in view of Public Need,

The Hawk, Hound, Bee, and Horse agreed

To pool their Sight, Scent, Taste, and Speed;

And in due season

They made,pro tem., the Lion King,

Intrusting him with everything

Upon condition he would bring

Proud Man to reason.

The crafty Lion then proposedTo send an Embassy composedOf those same four. As none opposed,They started straightway,And, coming to Man’s portals wide,They entered, but no trace espiedOf Man, until (from the outside)He closed the gateway.

The crafty Lion then proposed

To send an Embassy composed

Of those same four. As none opposed,

They started straightway,

And, coming to Man’s portals wide,

They entered, but no trace espied

Of Man, until (from the outside)

He closed the gateway.

And there he kept them till they sworeTo be his servants evermore,And work his will, and bow beforeHis rod of iron:The Dog to watch, the Hawk to kill,The Horse to carry and to till,The Bee with sweets his jars to fill.All save the Lion—

And there he kept them till they swore

To be his servants evermore,

And work his will, and bow before

His rod of iron:

The Dog to watch, the Hawk to kill,

The Horse to carry and to till,

The Bee with sweets his jars to fill.

All save the Lion—

The Lion stayed at home—and purred,And kept thenceforth the crown conferredPro tem., and nothing more was heardAbout Conditions.So ends my tale. Perchance it bringsSome light to bear on certain things—Such as the Origin of Kings,And Politicians.

The Lion stayed at home—and purred,

And kept thenceforth the crown conferred

Pro tem., and nothing more was heard

About Conditions.

So ends my tale. Perchance it brings

Some light to bear on certain things—

Such as the Origin of Kings,

And Politicians.

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