Fantastic Fables Page 2

  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.

  The Holy Deacon

  An Itinerant Preacher who had wrought hard in the moral vineyard for several hours whispered to a Holy Deacon of the local church:

  “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.”

  “Progress?” echoed the Judge—“progress? Why, sir, the matter is concluded!”

  “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 what ground, sir?” the Judge asked in surprise.

  “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.”

  The Wooden Guns

  An Artillery Regiment of a State Militia applied to the Governor for wooden guns to practise with.

  “Those,” they explained, “will be cheaper than real ones.”

  “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.”

  The Reform School Board

  The members of the School Board in Doosnoswair being suspected of appointing female teachers for an improper consideration, the people elected a Board composed wholly of women. In a few years the scandal was at an end; there were no female teachers in the Department.

  The Poet’s Doom

  An Object was walking along the King’s highway wrapped in meditation and with little else on, when he suddenly found himself at the gates of a strange city. On applying for admittance, he was arrested as a necessitator of ordinances, and taken before the King.

  “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.

  “Name it,” the King said.

  “Let him retain that head!”

  It was so ordered.

  The Noser and the Note

  The Head Rifler of an insolvent bank, learning that it was about to be visited by the official Noser into Things, placed his own personal note for a large amount among its resources, and, gaily touching his guitar, awaited the inspection. When the Noser came to the note he asked, “What’s this?”

  “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.”

  The Cat and the King

  A Cat was looking at a King, as permitted by the proverb.

  “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 King of the Mice.”

  The sovereign was so pleased with the wit of the reply that he gave her permission to scratch his Prime Minister’s eyes out.

  The Literary Astronomer

  The Director of an Observatory, who, with a thirty-six-inch refractor, had discovered the moon, hastened to an Editor, with a four-column account of the event.

  “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.

  “Not half enough,” was the Editor’s comment.

  “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.

  The Lion and the Rattlesnake

  A Man having found a Lion in his path undertook to subdue him by the power of the human eye; and near by was a Rattlesnake engaged in fascinating a small bird.

  “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.”

&nbs
p; “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.”

  The Man with No Enemies

  An Inoffensive Person walking in a public place was assaulted by a Stranger with a Club, and severely beaten.

  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.”

  “That,” said the defendant, “is why I struck him.”

  “Let the prisoner be discharged,” said the Judge; “a man who has no enemies has no friends. The courts are not for such.”

  The Alderman and the Raccoon

  “I see quite a number of rings on your tail,” said an Alderman to a Raccoon that he met in a zoölogical garden.

  “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.

  The Angel’s Tear

  An Unworthy Man who had laughed at the woes of a Woman whom he loved, was bewailing his indiscretion in sack-cloth-of-gold and ashes-of-roses, when the Angel of Compassion looked down upon him, saying:

  “Poor mortal!—how unblest not to know the wickedness of laughing at another’s misfortune!”

  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.

  The City of Political Distinction

  Jamrach the Rich, being anxious to reach the City of Political Distinction before nightfall, arrived at a fork of the road and was undecided which branch to follow; so he consulted a Wise-Looking Person who sat by the wayside.

  “Take that road,” said the Wise-Looking Person, pointing it out; “it is known as the Political Highway.”

  “Thank you,” said Jamrach, and was about to proceed.

  “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.”

  The Party Over There

  A Man in a Hurry, whose watch was at his lawyer’s, asked a Grave Person the time of day.

  “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.

  He was a Judge of an Appellate Court.

  The Poetess of Reform

  One pleasant day in the latter part of eternity, as the Shades of all the great writers were reposing upon beds of asphodel and moly in the Elysian fields, each happy in hearing from the lips of the others nothing but copious quotation from his own works (for so Jove had kindly bedeviled their ears), there came in among them with triumphant mien a Shade whom none knew. She (for the newcomer showed such evidences of sex as cropped hair and a manly stride) took a seat in their midst, and smiling a superior smile explained:

  “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.

  The Unchanged Diplomatist

  The republic of Madagonia had been long and well represented at the court of the King of Patagascar by an officer called a Dazie, but one day the Madagonian Parliament conferred upon him the superior rank of Dandee. The next day after being apprised of his new dignity he hastened to inform the King of Patagascar.

  “Ah, yes, I understand,” said the King; “you have been promoted and given increased pay and allowances. There was an appropriation?”

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  “And you have now two heads, have you not?”

  “Oh, no, your Majesty—only one, I assure you.”

  “Indeed? And how many legs and arms?”

  “Two of each, Sire—only two of each.”

  “And only one body?”

  “Just a single body, as you perceive.”

  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 kin
d 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.