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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:13:34 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/39757-8.txt b/39757-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cbf53e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/39757-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5230 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Half-Hours with Jimmieboy, by John Kendrick Bangs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: Half-Hours with Jimmieboy + +Author: John Kendrick Bangs + +Illustrator: Frank Verbeck + Charles Howard Johnson + J. T. Richards + P. Newell + +Release Date: May 22, 2012 [EBook #39757] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HALF-HOURS WITH JIMMIEBOY *** + + + + +Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from +scanned images of public domain material from the Internet +Archive. + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Book Cover] + + + + +[Illustration: "ALL ABOARD FOR SLEEP," SAID JIMMIEBOY.] + + + + +HALF-HOURS WITH JIMMIEBOY. + + +BY +JOHN KENDRICK BANGS, +AUTHOR OF +_"Tiddledywink Tales," "In Camp with a Tin Soldier," +"Tiddledywink Poetry Book," etc._ + + +ILLUSTRATED BY +FRANK VERBECK, CHARLES HOWARD JOHNSON, +J. T. RICHARDS, P. NEWELL, +AND OTHERS. + + +[Illustration] + + +NEW YORK: +R. H. RUSSELL & SON, +MDCCCXCIII. + + + + +TO MY SON, +FRANCIS HYDE BANGS. + + + + +Thanks are due to Messrs. Harper & Bros. for the +privilege of re-printing several of the +stories in this book. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + 1. CHRISTMAS EVE AT JIMMIEBOY'S 11 + 2. THE DWARF AND THE DUDE GIANT 24 + 3. JIMMIEBOY'S DREAM POETRY 35 + 4. A SUBTERRANEAN MUTINY 48 + 5. JIMMIEBOY IN THE LIBRARY 60 + 6. JIMMIEBOY'S SNOWMAN 72 + 7. THE BICYCLOPÆDIA BIRD 85 + 8. GIANT THE JACK KILLER 100 + 9. JIMMIEBOY AND THE FIREWORKS 109 + 10. JIMMIEBOY'S PHOTOGRAPH 124 + 11. JIMMIEBOY AND THE BLANK-BOOK 132 + 12. JIMMIEBOY AND THE COMET 146 + 13. JIMMIEBOY AND JACK FROST 156 + 14. JIMMIEBOY AND THE GAS-STOVE 168 + 15. IN THE HEART OF FROSTLAND 183 + 16. THE END OF THE STORY 201 + + + + +I. + +CHRISTMAS EVE AT JIMMIEBOY'S. + + +It had been a long and trying day to Jimmieboy, as December 24th usually +is to children of his age, who have great expectations, and are more or +less impatient to have them fulfilled. He had been positively cross at +supper-time because his father had said that Santa Claus had written to +say that a much-desired velocipede could not be got down through the +chimney, and that he thought Jimmieboy would have to wait until the +chimneys had been enlarged, or his papa had built a new house with more +commodious flues. + +"I think it's just too bad," said Jimmieboy, as he climbed into bed an +hour later. "Just because those chimneys are small, I can't have a +philocipede, and I've been gooder than ever for two weeks, just to get +it." + +Then, as his nurse extinguished the lamp and went into the adjoining +room to sew, Jimmieboy threw himself back upon his pillow and shed a +tear. The tear crept slowly down over his cheek, and was about to +disappear between his lips and go back again to where it had started +from, when a voice was heard over by the fire-place. + +"Can you get it down?" it said. + +Jimmieboy sat up and peered over toward the spot whence the voice came, +but could see nothing. + +"No. The hind wheels won't go through the chimney-pot, and even if they +would, it wouldn't do any good. The front wheel is twice as big as the +hind ones," said another voice, this one apparently belonging to some +one on the roof. "Can't you get it in through the front door?" + +"What do you take me for--an expressman?" cried the voice at the +fire-place. "I can't leave things that way. It wouldn't be the proper +thing. Can't you get a smaller size through?" + +"Yes; but will it fit the boy?" said the voice on the roof. + +"Lower your lantern down here and we'll see. He's asleep over here in a +brass bedstead," replied the other. + +And then Jimmieboy saw a great red lantern appear in the fire-place, and +by its light he noticed a short, ruddy-faced, merry-eyed old gentleman, +with a snowy beard and a smile, tip-toeing across the room toward him. +To his delight he recognized him at once as Santa Claus; but he didn't +know whether Santa Claus would like to have him see him or not, so he +closed his eyes as tightly as he could, and pretended to be asleep. + +"Humph!" ejaculated Santa Claus, as he leaned over Jimmieboy's bed, and +tried to get his measure by a glance. "He's almost a man--must be five +years old by this time. Pretty big for a small velocipede; still, I +don't know." Here he scratched his beard and sang: + + "If he's too large for it, I think, + 'Twill be too small for him, + Unless he can be got to shrink + Two inches on each limb." + +Then he walked back to the fire-place and called out, "I've measured." + +"Well, what's the result?" queried the voice on the roof. + +"'Nothing,' as the boy said when he was asked what two plus one minus +three amounted to. I can't decide. It will or it won't, and that's all +there is about it." + +"Can't we try it on him?" asked the voice up the chimney. + +"No," returned Santa Claus. "That wouldn't prove anything; but we might +try him on it. Shall I send him up?" + +"Yes," came the voice from above, much to Jimmieboy's delight, for he +was quite curious to see what was going on up on the roof, and who it +was that owned the other voice. + +In a moment Jimmieboy found himself in Santa Claus's arms, cuddled up to +the warm fur coat the dear old gentleman wore, in which position he was +carried up through the chimney flue to the roof. Then Jimmieboy peeped +out between his half-opened eyelids, and saw, much to his surprise, that +instead of there being only one Santa Claus, there were two of them. + +"Oh dear!" he said in astonishment; "I didn't know there were two of +you." + +Both the Santas jumped as if some one had let off a cannon cracker under +their very noses. + +"Well, I declare!" said the one that had carried Jimmieboy up through +the chimney. "We're discovered. Here I've been in this business whole +centuries, and I've never been discovered before." + +"That's so," assented the other. "We know now how America must have felt +when Columbus came sailing in. What'll we do about it?" + +"We'll have to take him into partnership, I guess," rejoined the first. +"It'll never do in this world not to. Would you like to be one of our +concern, Jimmieboy?" + +"Oh, indeed I would," said Jimmieboy. + +"Well, I say we let him help us this time anyhow," said the roof Santa +Claus. "You're so fat, I'm afraid you can't get down some of these small +chimneys, and Jimmieboy is just about the right size." + +"Good scheme," said the other; "but he isn't dressed for it, you know." + +"He can get a nice black soot down in the factory chimney," said the +roof Santa Claus, with a wink. + +"That's so; and as the factory fires are always going, it will be a nice +warm soot. What do you say, Jimmieboy?" said the other. + +"It's lovely," replied the boy. "But how did there come to be two of +you?" + +"There had to be," said the first Santa Claus Jimmieboy had seen. "The +world is growing so fast that my work has nearly doubled in the last +twenty years, so I had to get an assistant, and he did so well, I took +him into partnership. He's my brother." + +"And is his name Santa Claus, too?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Oh no, indeed. His name is Marmaduke. We call him Marmy for short, and +I can tell you what it is, Jimmieboy, + + "He is as fine a fellow + As ever you did spy; + He's quite as sweet and mellow, + Though not so fat as I." + +"And that's a recommendation that any man has a right to be proud of," +said Marmy Claus, patting himself on the back to show how proud he felt. +"But, Santa, we must be off. It would not do for the new firm of Santa, +Marmy, and Jimmie Claus to begin business by being late. We've got to +leave toys in eighteen flat-houses, forty-two hotels, and an orphan +asylum yet." + +"That's a fact," said Santa, jumping into the sleigh and grasping the +reins. "Just help Jimmieboy in here, Marmy, and we'll be off. We can +leave his things here on our way back." + +[Illustration: JIMMIEBOY AND THE BROTHERS CLAUS.] + +Then, before he knew how it happened, Jimmieboy found himself wrapped up +warmly in a great fur coat, with a seal-skin cap on his head, and the +dearest, warmest ear-tabs over his ears, sitting in the middle of the +sleigh between the two huge, jolly-faced, members of the Claus family. +The long lash of the whip snapped in the frosty air, at the sound of +which the reindeer sprang forward and dragged the toy-laden cutter off +on its aerial flight. + +At the start Santa drove, and Marmy prepared the toys for the first +little boy they were to visit, handing Jimmieboy a lot of sugar-plums, +to keep him from getting hungry, before he began. + +"This is a poor sick little fellow we are going to see first," he said. +"He wanted a set of choo-choo cars, but we can't give them to him +because the only set we have is for you, Jimmieboy. Your application +came in before his did. I hope he won't be disappointed, though I am +afraid he will be. A fish-pond isn't half so much fun as a set of +choo-choo cars." + +"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "But, Mr. Marmy, perhaps, if it's going to +make him feel real bad not to get them--maybe--perhaps you might let him +have the cars. I don't want them too much." This wasn't quite true, but +Jimmieboy, somehow or other, didn't like to think of the little sick boy +waking up on Christmas day and not finding what he wanted. "You know, I +have one engine and a coal car left of my old set, and I guess maybe, +perhaps, I can make them do," he added. + +Marmy gave the little fellow an affectionate squeeze, and said: "Well, +if you really feel that way, maybe we had better leave the cars there. +Eh, Santa?" + +"Maybe, perhaps," said Santa. + +And it so happened; and although he could not tell exactly why, +Jimmieboy felt happier after leaving the cars at the little sick boy's +house than he ever thought he could be. + +"Now, Jimmieboy," said Santa, as Marmy took the reins and they drove off +again, "while Marmy and I are attending to the hotels and flat-houses, +we want you to take that brown bag and go down the chimney of the orphan +asylum, and leave one toy for each little child there. There are about +a hundred little orphans to be provided for." + +"What's orphans?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Orphans? Why, they are poor little boys and girls without any papas and +mammas, and they all have to live together in one big house. You'll see +'em fast asleep in their little white cots when you get down the +chimney, and you must be very careful not to wake them up." + +"I'll try not to," said Jimmieboy, softly, a lump growing up in his +throat as he thought of the poor children who had no parents. "And I'll +make sure they all get something, too." + +"That's right," said Marmy. "And here's where they live. You take the +bag now, and we'll let you down easy, and when we get through, we'll +come back for you." + +So Jimmieboy shouldered the bag full of toys, and was lowered through +the chimney into the room where the orphans were sleeping. He was +surprised to find how light the bag was, and he was almost afraid there +would not be enough toys to go around; but there were, as he found out +in a moment. There were more than enough by at least a dozen of the most +beautiful toys he had ever seen--just the very things he would most have +liked to have himself. + +"I just guess I'll give 'em one of these things apiece, and keep the +extra ones, and maybe perhaps they'll be for me," he said. + +[Illustration: JIMMIEBOY IN THE ORPHAN ASYLUM.] + +So he arranged the toys quietly under the stockings that hung at the +foot of the little white beds, stuffing the stockings themselves with +candies and apples and raisins and other delicious things to eat, and +then sat down by the fire-place to await the return of Santa Claus and +Santa's brother Marmy. As he sat there he looked around the dimly +lighted room, and saw the poor thin white faces of the little sleeping +orphans, and his heart stirred with pity for their sad condition. Then +he looked at the bag again, and saw the extra dozen toys that were so +pleasing to him, and he wondered if it would make the orphans happier +next morning if they should wake and find them there, too. At first he +wasn't sure but that the orphans had enough; and then he thought of his +own hamper full of dolls, and dogs, and tin soldiers, and cars, and +blocks, at home, and he tried to imagine how much fun he could get out +of a single toy, and he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that he +could get much. + +"One toy is great fun for an hour," he said to himself, "but for a year, +dear me! I guess I won't keep them, after all. I'll just put them in the +middle of the room, so that they'll find them in the morning, and maybe +perhaps---- Hello!" he added, as he took the extra toys out of the bag; +"they were for me, after all. They've got my name on 'em. Oh, dear! +isn't it love---- I don't know, though. Seems to me I'd better leave +them here, even if they are for me. I can get along without them because +I have a papa to play with, and he's more fun than any toy I ever had; +and mamma's better'n any doll baby or choo-choo car I ever saw. Yes, I +will leave them." + +And the little fellow was true to his purpose. He emptied the bag to the +very last toy, and then, hearing the tinkling bells of Santa's sleigh on +the roof again, he ran to the chimney, and was hauled up by his two new +friends to the roof. + +"Why, you've left everything except the bag!" cried Marmy, as Jimmieboy +climbed into the sleigh. + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy, with a little sigh; "everything." + +"But the bag had all your things in it, and we haven't a toy or a +sugar-plum left for you," said Santa. + +"Never mind," said Jimmieboy. "I don't care much. I've had this ride +with you, and--al--together I'm--pret--ty well--satis--fi----" + +Here the little assistant to the Claus brothers, lulled by the jingling +of the bells, fell asleep. + +It was morning when he waked again--Christmas morning--and as he opened +his eyes he found himself back in his little crib, pondering over the +mysterious experiences of the night. His heart was strangely light and +happy even for him, especially when he thought of the little orphan +children, and tried to imagine their happiness on waking and finding the +extra toys--his toys--in addition to their own; and as he thought about +it, his eyes wandered to the chimney-place, and an unexpected sight met +his gaze, for there stood the much-wished-for velocipede, and grouped +around it on the floor were a beautiful set of choo-choo cars exactly +like those he had left with the sick boy, and a duplicate of every one +of the extra toys he had left at the asylum for the orphans. + +"They must have been playing a joke on me," he cried, in delighted +tones, as he sprang out of bed and rushed over to where the toys lay. "I +do believe they left them here while I was in the asylum. +The--dear--old--things!" + +And then Jimmieboy was able to measure the delight of the orphan +children and the little sufferer by comparing it with his own; and when +he went to bed that night, he whispered in his mamma's ear that he +didn't know for sure, but he thought that if the orphans only had a papa +and a mamma like his, they would certainly be the happiest little +children in all the world. + + + + +II + +THE DWARF AND THE DUDE GIANT. + + +The day had not yet dawned, but Jimmieboy was awake--wide awake. So wide +awake was he, indeed, that the small bed in which he had passed the +night was not broad enough by some ten or twelve feet to accommodate the +breadth of his wakefulness, and he had in consequence crawled over into +his father's bed, seated himself as nearly upon his father's neck as was +possible, and was vociferously demanding a story. + +"Oh, wait a little while, Jimmieboy," said his father, wearily. "I'm +sound asleep--can't you see?" + +"Tell a story," said Jimmieboy, poking his thumbs into his father's half +closed eyes. + +The answer was a snore--not a real one, but one of those imitation +snores that fathers of boys like Jimmieboy make use of on occasions of +this sort, prompted no doubt by the maker's desire to convince a +persistent enemy to sleep that his cause is hopeless, and of which the +enemy is never to be convinced. + +"Tell a story about a Giant," insisted Jimmieboy, a suggestion of tears +in his voice. + +"Oh, well," returned the sleepy father, sitting up and, rubbing his eyes +vigorously in a vain effort to get all the sleepiness out of them. "If +you must have it, you must have it, so here goes. Let's see--a story of +a Giant or of a Dwarf?" + +"Both," said Jimmieboy, placidly. + +"Dear me!" cried his father. "I wish I'd kept quiet about the Dwarf. +Well, once upon a time there was a Giant." + +"And a Dwarf, too," put in Jimmieboy, who did not intend to be cheated +out of a half of the story. + +"Yes. And a Dwarf, too," said the other with a nod. "The Giant was a +Dude Giant, who cared more for his hats than he did for anything else in +the world. It was quite natural, too, that he should, for he had a finer +chance to show them off than most people have, because he had no less +than four heads, which is very remarkable for a Dude Giant, because +dudes who are not giants very rarely have even one head worth +mentioning. Hats were about the only things the Dude Giant cared for at +all. He used to buy every style of head-gear he could find, and it took +almost all of the salary he received at the Museum where he was on +exhibition to pay for them; but he was particularly fond of silk hats. +Of these he had twenty-eight; four for each day of the week, those for +Sunday being especially handsome and costly. + +"Now it happened that in the same exhibition with the Dude Giant there +was a Dwarf named Tiny W. Littlejohn--W standing for Wee, which was his +middle name. He was a very good-natured fellow, Tiny was, and as far as +he knew he hadn't an enemy in the world. He was so very nice that +everybody who came to the exhibition brought him cream cakes, and +picture books, and roller skates, and other beautiful things, and nobody +ever thought of going away without buying his photograph, paying him +twenty-five cents extra for the ones with his autograph on, which his +mother wrote for him. In this way the Dwarf soon grew to be a +millionaire, while the Dude Giant squandered all he had on riotous hats, +and so remained as poor as when he started. For a long time everything +went smoothly at the Exhibition. There were no jealousies or quarrels of +any sort, except between the Glass Eater and the man who made Glass +Steamboats, and that was smoothed over in a very short time by the Glass +Eater saying that the Glass-blower made the finest crystal pies he had +ever tasted. But contentment and peace could not last forever in an +establishment where one attraction was growing richer and richer every +day as the Dwarf was, while another, the Dude Giant, was no better off +than the day he joined the show, and when finally the Dwarf began to +come every morning in a cab of his own, drawn by a magnificent gray +horse with a banged tail, and to dress better even than the proprietor +of the Museum himself, the Dude Giant became very envious, and when the +Dude Giant gets envious he is a very disagreeable person. For instance, +when no one was looking he would make horrible faces at Tiny, contorting +his four mouths and noses and eight cheeks all at once in a very +terrifying manner, and when he'd look cross-eyed at the Dwarf with all +eight of his eyes poor Tiny would get so nervous that he would try to +eat the roller skates and picture books, instead of the cream cakes +people brought him, and on one occasion he broke two of his prettiest +teeth doing it, which marred his personal appearance very much. + +"Tiny stood it as long as he could, and then he complained to his +friend, the Whirlwind, about it, and the Whirlwind, who was a very +sensible sort of a fellow, advised him not to mind it. It was only +jealousy, he said, that led the Dude Giant to behave that way, and if +Tiny had not been more successful than Forepate--as the Dude Giant was +called--Forepate wouldn't have been jealous, so that his very jealousy +was an acknowledgment of inferiority. So Tiny made up his mind he +wouldn't pay any attention to the Dude Giant at all, but would go right +ahead minding his own business and making all the money he could. + +"This made Forepate all the more angry, and finally he resolved to get +even with the Dwarf in some other way than by making grimaces at him. +Now, it happened that Forepate's place was over by a window directly +opposite to where the Dwarf sat, and so, to get near enough to Tiny to +put his scheme against him into execution, he complained to the manager +that there was a terrible draft from the window, and added that unless +he could sit on the other side of the room he was certain he'd catch +cold in three of his heads anyhow, if not in all of them. + +"'Very well,' said the manager. 'Where do you wish to sit?' + +"'You might put me next to Littlejohn, over there,' said the head with +red hair. + +"'But,' said the manager, 'what shall we do with that stuffed owl with +the unicorn's horns?' + +"'Put him by the window,' said another of the Dude Giant's heads. + +"'Yes,' said the third head. 'No draft in all the world could give a +stuffed owl a cold.' + +"'That's so,' replied the manager. 'We'll make the change right off.' + +"And then the change was made, though Tiny did not like it very much. + +"To disarm all suspicion, the Dude Giant was very affable to the Dwarf +for a whole week, and to see him talking to Tiny no one would have +suspected that he hated him so, which shows how horribly crafty he was. +Finally the hour for his revenge arrived. It was Monday morning, and +Forepate and Tiny had taken their places as usual, when, observing that +no one was looking, Forepate took his biggest beaver hat and put it over +Tiny, completely hiding him from view. Poor Tiny was speechless with +rage, and so could not cry out. Forepate kept him under his hat all +day, and whenever any one asked where Littlejohn was, one of his heads +would say, 'Alas! Poor Tiny, he has mysteriously disappeared!' And +another head would shake itself and say 'Somebody must have left the +door open and the wind must have whisked the dear little fellow out into +the cold, cold world.' Then the other two heads would blubber, at which +the Dude Giant would take out his handkerchiefs and wipe his eight eyes +and shake all over as if he were inconsolable, and Tiny, overhearing it +all, grew more and more speechless with indignation. + +"That night, of course, Forepate had to release him, and Tiny hurried +away fairly howling with anger. When he arrived at home he told his +mother how he had been treated and how he had been done out of a whole +day's cream cakes and picture books and roller skates, and she advised +him to go at once to the Whirlwind and confide his woe to him, which he +did. + +"'Forepate ought to be ashamed of himself,' said the Whirlwind, when +Tiny had told his story. + +"'But he never does what he ought to do unless somebody makes him,' said +Tiny, ruefully. 'Can't we do something to make him ashamed of himself?' + +"'Well, I'll see,' said the Whirlwind, with a shake of his head that +meant that he intended to do something. 'What does the Dude Giant do +with himself on Sundays?' + +"'Shows off his best hats on Fifth avenue," returned the Dwarf. + +"'Very well then, I have it,' said the Whirlwind. 'Next Sunday, Tiny, +we'll have our revenge on Forepate. You stand on one of the stoops at +the corner of Fifth avenue and Thirty-fourth street at midday, and +you'll see a sight that will make you happy for the rest of your days.' + +"So, on the following Sunday the Dwarf climbed up on one of the front +stoops on Fifth avenue, near Thirty-fourth street, and waited. He hadn't +been there long when he saw Forepate striding down the avenue dressed in +his best clothes, and wearing upon his heads four truly magnificent +beavers, which he had just received from London, and of which he was +justly proud. + +"'I wonder where the Whirlwind is,' thought the Dwarf, looking anxiously +up and down the avenue for his avenger. 'I do hope he won't fail.' + +"Hardly were the words out of his mouth when Forepate reached the +crossing of Thirty-fourth street, and just as he stepped from the walk +into the street, bzoo! along came the Whirlwind, and off went Forepate's +treasured hats. One hat flew madly up Fifth avenue. A second rolled +swiftly down Fifth avenue. A third tripped merrily along East +Thirty-fourth street, while the fourth sailed joyously into the air, +struck a lamp-post, and then plunged along West Thirty-fourth street. +And then! Dear me! What a terrible thing happened! It was perfectly +awful--simply dreadful!" + +"Hurry up and tell it," said Jimmieboy, jumping up and down with anxiety +to hear what happened next. + +"Then," said his papa, "when the Dude Giant saw his beloved hats flying +in every direction he howled aloud with every one of his four voices, +and craned each of his necks in the direction in which it's hat had +flown. + +"Then the head with the auburn hair demanded that the Giant should +immediately run up Fifth avenue to recover its lost beaver, and the +giant started, but hardly had he gone a step when the head with the +black hair cried out: + +"'No! Down Fifth avenue after my hat.' + +"'Not at all!' shrieked the head without any hair. 'Go east after mine.' + +"'Well, I guess not!' roared the head that had curly hair. 'He's going +west after mine.' + +"Meanwhile the Giant had come to a stand-still. He couldn't run in any +direction until his heads had agreed as to which way he should go, and +all this time the beautiful hats were getting farther and farther away, +and the heads more frantic than ever. For five full minutes they +quarreled thus among themselves, turning now and then to peer weepingly +after their beloved silk hats, and finally, with a supreme effort, each +endeavored to force the Giant in the direction it wished him to go, with +the result that poor Forepate was torn to pieces, and fell dead in the +middle of the street." + +Here papa paused and closed his eyes for a minute. + +"Is that all?" queried Jimmieboy. + +"Yes--I believe that's all. The Dude Giant was dead and the Dwarf was +avenged." + +"And what became of Tiny?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, Tiny," said his father, "Tiny--he--he laughed so heartily at the +Dude Giant's mishap that he loosened the impediment to his growth,--" + +"The what?" asked Jimmieboy, to whom words like impediment were rather +strange. + +"Why, the bone that kept him from growing," explained the story teller. +"He loosened that and began to grow again, and inside of two weeks he +was as handsome a six-footer as you ever saw, and as he had made a +million and a half of dollars he resigned from the Exhibition and +settled down in Europe for a number of years, had himself made a Grand +Duke, and then came back to New York and got married, and lived happy +ever after." + +And then, as the getting-up bell rang down stairs, Jimmieboy thanked his +father for the story and went into the nursery to dress for breakfast. + + + + +III. + +JIMMIEBOY'S DREAM POETRY. + + +If there is anything in the world that Jimmieboy likes better than +custard and choo-choo cars, it is to snuggle down in his papa's lap +about bedtime and pretend to keep awake. It doesn't matter at all how +tired he is, or how late bedtime may on special occasions be delayed, he +is never ready to be undressed and "filed away for the night," as his +Uncle Periwinkle puts it. + +It was just this way the other night. He was as sleepy as he possibly +could be. The sandman had left enough sand in his eyes, or so it seemed +to Jimmieboy, to start a respectable sea-beach, and he really felt as if +all he needed to make a summer resort of himself was a big hotel, a band +of music, and an ocean. But in spite of all this he didn't want to go to +bed, and he had apparently made up his mind that he wasn't going to +want to go to bed for some time to come; and as his papa was in an +unusually indulgent mood, the little fellow was permitted to nestle up +close under his left arm and sit there on his lap in the library after +dinner, while his mamma read aloud an article in one of the magazines on +the subject of dream poetry. + +It was a very interesting article, Jimmieboy thought. The idea of +anybody's writing poetry while asleep struck him as being very comical, +and he laughed several times in a sleepy sort of way, and then all of a +sudden he thought, "Why, if other people can do it, why can't I?" + +"Why?" he answered--he was quite fond of asking himself questions and +then answering them--"why? Because you can't write at all. You don't +know an H from a D, unless there's a Horse in the picture with the H, +and a Donkey with the D. That's why." + +"True; but that's only when I'm awake." + +"Try it and see," whispered the Pencil in his papa's vest pocket. "I'll +help, and maybe our old friend the Scratch Pad will help too." + +"That's a good idea," said Jimmieboy, taking the Pencil out of his +papa's pocket, and assisting it to climb down to the floor, so that it +could run over to the desk and tell the Scratch Pad it was wanted. + +"Don't you lose my pencil," said papa. + +"No, I won't," replied Jimmieboy, his eyes following the Pencil in its +rather winding course about the room to where the desk stood. + +"I have to keep out of sight, you know, Jimmieboy," the Pencil said, in +a low tone of voice. "Because if I didn't, and your papa saw me walking +off, he'd grab hold of me and put me back in his pocket again." + +Suddenly the Pencil disappeared over by the waste-basket, and then +Jimmieboy heard him calling, in a loud whisper: "Hi! Pad! Paddy! +Pad-dee!" + +"What's wanted?" answered the Pad, crawling over the edge of the desk +and peering down at the Pencil, who was by this time hallooing himself +hoarse. + +"Jimmieboy and I are going to write some dream poetry, and we want you +to help," said the Pencil. + +"Oh, I'm not sleepy," said the Pad. + +"Neither am I," returned the Pencil. "But that needn't make any +difference. Jimmieboy, does the sleeping and dreaming, and you and I do +the rest." + +"Oh, that's it, eh? Well, then, I don't mind; but--er--how am I ever +going to get down there?" asked the Pad. "It's a pretty big jump." + +"That's so," answered the Pencil. "I wouldn't try jumping. Can't the +Twine help you?" + +"No. He's all used up." + +"Then I have it," said the Pencil. "Put a little mucilage on your back +and slide down. The mucilage will keep you from going too fast." + +"Good scheme," said the Pad, putting the Pencil's suggestion into +practice, and finding that it worked beautifully, even if it did make +him feel uncomfortably sticky. + +[Illustration: ARM IN ARM THEY TIPTOED SOFTLY ACROSS THE ROOM.] + +And then, arm in arm, they tip-toed softly across the room and climbed +up into Jimmieboy's lap. So quietly did they go that neither Jimmieboy's +mamma, nor his papa noticed them at all, as they might have had the +conspirators been noisy, although mamma was reading and papa's head was +thrown back, so that his eyes rested on the picture moulding. + +"Here we are, Jimmieboy," said the Pad. "Pen here tells me you're going +to try a little dream poetry." + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I am, if you two will help." + +"Count on us," said the Pencil. "What do you do first?" + +"I don't exactly know," said Jimmieboy. "But I rather think I take +Pencil in my hand, Pad in my lap, and fall asleep." + +"All right," said the Pad, lying flat on his back. "I'm ready." + +"So am I," put in the Pencil, settling down between two of Jimmieboy's +fingers. + +"All aboard for sleep," said Jimmieboy, with a smile, and then he fell +into a doze. In about two minutes he opened his eyes again, and found +both Pad and Pencil in a great state of excitement. + +"Did I write anything?" asked Jimmieboy, in an excited whisper. + +"Yes," said the Pad. "You just covered me up with a senseless mass of +words. This isn't any fun." + +"No," said the Pencil. "It's all nonsense. Just see here what you've +got." + +[Illustration: JIMMIEBOY FINDS NOTHING BUT DREAM-WRITING ON THE PAD.] + +Jimmieboy looked anxiously at the Pad, and this is what he saw: + + I seen since, + memory's wrong, + They both dressed + couple walked + + And straightway change + upstairs with me, + "I think it's + "If that's the case," + + catch the early in." + to leave the shop, + for it's pla + Polypop. + + two weeks yesterday." + haven't uttered + Oh, Polypop, I + ersnee, "See here, + + He didn't pay + moon was shining bright. + To see the + Polypop came down + +"Dear me!" he said. "Why, that doesn't mean anything, does it?" + +"No. There isn't much in dream poetry, I guess," said the Pad. "I'm +going back home. Good-by." + +"Oh, don't go," said the Pencil. "Let's try it again--just once more. +Eh?" + +"Very well," returned the Pad, good-naturedly, tearing off one of his +leaves. "Go ahead, Jimmieboy." + +And Jimmieboy dozed off again. + +"Wake up, wake up!" cried the Pencil in about three minutes. "We've got +something this time." + +But they were all disappointed, for, when they looked, all that they +could see was this: + + have not them + And if my not + were in chintz; + With that the along; + + your vest." + For you to go + Replied best, + the Snickersnee, + + And tra + I hadn't time + "My reason in; + "I know it," said the + + Since + You one small cheer, + say, + Then quoth the Snick + + his fee. + And as the + Snickersnee, + The one night, + +"Rubbish!" said the Pad, indignantly. "There's two leaves of myself +wasted now on your old dream poetry. I think that's enough. I'm off. +Good-by." + +"Don't be hasty, Pad," retorted the Pencil. "That's a great deal better +than the other. Why, there's one part there with all the lines beginning +with capitals, and when that happens it's generally a sign that there's +poetry around." + +"There isn't much there, though," said Jimmieboy, a little disappointed +by the result. "I guess Pad's right. We'd better give it up." + +"Not yet," pleaded the Pencil. "There's luck in odd numbers, you know. +Let's try it just once more." + +"Shall we, Jimmieboy?" asked the Pad. + +"Yes. Let's," assented Jimmieboy, as he dropped off to sleep for the +third time. + +This time he must have slept five minutes. When he opened his eyes he +saw the Pencil staring blankly at the Pad, on which was written nothing +more than this curious looking formula: + + 2 + 2 + - + 4 + +"How aggravating!" said Jimmieboy. + +"Abominable!" ejaculated the Pad. + +"I believe it's a key to what has gone before," said the Pencil, shaking +his rubber wisely. "Two and two make four--two and two make four. Ah! I +know. You've got to put two and two together to make four. If we put +those two leaves of nonsensical words together, maybe we'll have a poem. +Let's try." + +"It'll use me up, I'm afraid," sighed the Pad. + +"Oh, no. It won't take more than a half of you," said the Pencil, +putting the two leaves on which Jimmieboy had first written together. + +"It looks like a poem," he said, when he had fitted the two together. +"Let's see how it reads. + + "I have not seen them since. + And if my memory's not wrong, + They both were dressed in chintz, + With that the couple walked along;" + +"That doesn't mean a blessed thing," said the Pad. + +"It's nonsense," said Jimmieboy. + +"Just wait!" said the Pencil, beginning to read again: + + And straightway change your vest." + For you to go upstairs with me, + Replied, "I think it's best + "If that's the case," the Snickersnee + + And catch the early train." + I hadn't time to leave the shop + "My reason for it's plain; + "I know it," said the Polypop; + + "Since two weeks yesterday." + You haven't uttered one small cheer + Oh, Polypop, I say, + Then quoth the Snickersnee, "See here, + + He didn't pay his fee. + And as the moon was shining bright, + To see the Snickersnee, + The Polypop came down one night + +"Ho!" jeered the Pad. "That's elegant poetry, that is. You might get +paid five cents a mile for stuff like that, if you wanted to sell it and +had luck." + +"I don't care," said the Pencil. "It rhymes well." + +"Oh, I know what's the matter," said Jimmieboy, gleefully. "Why, of +course it's poetry. Read it upside down, and it's all right. It's dream +poetry, and dreams always go the other way. Why, it's fine. Just +listen: + + "The Polypop came down one night + To see the Snickersnee, + And, as the moon was shining bright, + He didn't pay his fee." + +"That is good," said the Pad. "Let me say the next: + + "Then, quoth the Snickersnee, 'See here, + Oh, Polypop, I say, + You have not uttered one small cheer + Since two weeks yesterday.'" + +"I thought it would come out right," said the Pencil. "The next two +verses are particularly good, too: + + "'I know it,' said the Polypop; + 'My reason for it's plain; + I hadn't time to leave the shop + And catch the early train.' + + "'If that's the case,' the Snickersnee + Replied, 'I think it's best + For you to go upstairs with me, + And straightway change your vest.'" + +"Now altogether," cried the Pad, enthusiastically. "One, two, three!" +And then they all recited: + + "With that the couple walked along; + They both were dressed in chintz; + And if my memory's not wrong, + I have not seen them since." + +"Hooray!" cried Jimmieboy, as they finished--so loudly that it nearly +deafened the Pad, which jumped from his lap and scurried back to the +table as fast as it could go. + +"What's that cheer for?" asked papa, looking down into Jimmieboy's face, +and grabbing the Pencil, which was on the point of falling to the floor. + +"It's for Dream Poetry," murmured Jimmieboy, getting drowsy again. "I've +just dreamed a lot. It's on the Pad." + +"Indeed!" said papa, with a sly wink at mamma. "Let's get the Pad and +read it." + +The little fellow straightened up and ran across to the desk, and, +grasping the Pad firmly in his hands, handed it to his father to read. + +"H'm!" said papa, staring at the leaf before him. "Blank verse." + +"Read it," said Jimmieboy. + +"I can't to-night, my boy," he answered. "My eyes are too weak for me to +see dream writing." + +For between you and me that was the only kind of writing there was on +that Pad. + + + + +IV. + +A SUBTERRANEAN MUTINY. + + +It seemed rather strange that it should have been left there, and yet +Jimmieboy was glad that in grading his papa's tennis-court the men had +left that bit of flat rock to show up on the surface of the lawn. It had +afforded him no end of pleasure since he had first discovered it. As a +make-believe island in a raging sea of grass, he had often used it to be +cast away upon, but chiefly had he employed it as a vantage ground from +which to watch his father and his father's friends at their games of +tennis. The rock was just about large enough for the boy to sit upon and +pretend that he was umpire, or, as his father said, mascot for his +father's opponents, and it rarely happened that a game of tennis was +played upon the court that was not witnessed by Jimmieboy seated upon +his rocky coigne. + +The strangest experience that Jimmieboy ever had with this bit of +stone, however, was one warm afternoon last summer. It was at the drowsy +period of the day. The tennis players were indulging in a game, which, +to the little onlooker, was unusually dull, and he was on the point of +starting off in pursuit of something, it mattered not what, so long as +it was interesting enough to keep him awake, when he observed a most +peculiar thing about the flat stone. It had unquestionably become +transparent! Jimmieboy could see through it, and what he saw was of most +unexpected quality. + +"Dear me!" he ejaculated, "how very queer. This rock is made of glass." + +Then he peered down through it, and saw a beautiful marble staircase +running down into the earth, at the foot of which was a great door that +looked as though it was made of silver, and the key was of gold. At the +sides of the staircase, hanging upon the walls, were pictures of strange +little men and women, but unlike the men and women in other pictures, +they moved about, and talked, and romped, and seemed to enjoy themselves +hugely. Great pictures were they indeed to Jimmieboy's mind, because +they were constantly changing, like the designs in his kaleidoscope. + +"I must get down there," he said, softly, to himself. "But how?" + +As he spoke the door at the foot of the steps opened, and a small +creature, for all the world like the goblin in Jimmieboy's fairy book, +poked his head out. The goblin looked all about him, and then turning +his eyes upward until they met those of the boy, he cried out: + +"Hullo! Are you the toy peddler?" + +"No," replied Jimmieboy. + +"Then you are the milk broker, or the potato merchant, and we don't want +any milk or any potatoes." + +The goblin slammed the door when he had said this, and with such a bang +that all the little people in the pictures ran to the edge of the frame +and peered out to see what was the matter. One poor little fellow, who +had been tending sheep in a picture half-way up the stairs, leaned out +so far that he lost his balance and tumbled out head over heels. The +sheep scampered over the hill and disappeared in the background of the +painting. + +"Poor little shepherd boy!" said Jimmieboy. "I hope you are not hurt!" + +The shepherd boy looked up gratefully at the speaker, and said he +wasn't, except in his feelings. + +"Is there any way for me to get in there?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"No, sir," said the shepherd boy. "That is, not all of you. Part of you +can come in." + +"Ho!" said Jimmieboy. "I can't divide myself up." + +"Yes, you can," returned the shepherd boy. "It's easy enough, when you +know how, but I suppose you don't know how, not having studied +arithmetic. You can't even add, much less divide." + +"Maybe you can tell me how," said Jimmieboy. + +"Certainly, I can," said the shepherd boy. "The part of you that can +come in is your eye, and your ear, and your voice. All the rest of you +must stay out." + +"But how do I get 'em in?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"They are in now," said the other. "You can see me, you can hear me, and +I can hear you." + +"But I can't see what's beyond that door." + +"Oh, we'll fix that," said the little shepherd. "I'll knock on the door, +and when it is opened you can tell the goblin that you want to see what +he's got, and he'll show it all to you if you tell him that your father +is the man who didn't blast the rock out." + +The shepherd boy then went softly down the stairs, knocked on the door, +and before it was opened had flown back to his duties in the picture. +Then, as he had intimated, the goblin opened the door again, and poking +his head out as before, cried: + +"Is that you, milk broker?" + +"No," answered Jimmieboy. "I am the son of the man who didn't blast away +the flat rock, and my eye and my ear and my voice want to come in." + +"Why, certainly," said the goblin, throwing the door wide open. "I +didn't know you were you. Let 'em walk right in." + +Jimmieboy was about to say that he didn't know how his eye or his ear or +his voice could walk anywhere, but he was prevented from so doing by the +sudden disappearance of the staircase, and the substitution therefor of +a huge room, the splendor of which was so great that it for a moment +dazzled his eyes. + +"Who comes here?" said a voice in the corner of the room. + +"The eye and the ear and the voice of the son of the man who did not +blast the flat stone," observed the goblin, and then Jimmieboy +perceived, seated upon a lustrous golden throne, a shriveled-up dwarf, +who looked as if he might be a thousand years old, but who, to judge +from the crown he wore upon his head, was a king. + +The dwarf was clad in garments of the richest texture, and his person +was luminous with jewels of the rarest sort. As the goblin announced the +visitor the king rose up, and descending from the throne, made a courtly +bow to Jimmieboy. + +"Thrice welcome, O son of the man who did not blast the flat rock," he +said. "It is only fitting that one who owes so much to the father should +welcome the eye and the ear and the voice of the son, for know, O boy, +that I am the lord of the Undergroundies whose kingdom would have been +shattered but for your father's kindly act in sparing it." + +"I suppose that blasting the rock would have spoiled all this," said +Jimmieboy's voice, as his eye took in the royal magnificence of the +place, while to his ears came strains of soft and sweet music. "It would +have been dreadful!" + +"Much more dreadful than you imagine," replied the little king. "It +would have worked damage that a life-time could not have repaired." + +Then the king turned to a tall, pale creature in black who sat writing +at a mahogany table in one corner of the throne room, and commanded him +to recite into Jimmieboy's ear how dreadful it would have been. + +"Compose, O laureate," he said to the tall, pale creature, "compose a +song in which the dire effects of such a blast are fully set forth." + +The laureate rose from his seat, and bowing low before the king and +Jimmieboy's eye, began his song, which ran in this wise: + + "A half a pound of dynamite + Set in that smooth, flat stone. + Our palace would quite out of sight + Most certainly have blown. + + "It would have blown our window-panes + To high Gibraltar's ledge, + And all our streets and country lanes + It would have set on edge. + + "It would have knocked our royal king + As far up as the moon; + Beyond the reach of anything-- + Beyond the best balloon. + + "It would have taken all our pears, + Our candy and our toys, + And hurled them where the polar bears + Indulge in horrid noise. + + "It would have spoiled the music-box, + And ruined all our books-- + Knocked holes in all our woolen socks, + And ruined thus their looks. + + "'T would have destroyed our chandeliers, + To dough turned all our pie; + And, worst of all, my little dears, + It would have injured I." + +"Is that dreadful enough?" asked the laureate, turning to the king. + +"It suits me," said the king. "But perhaps our friend Jimmieboy would +like to have it made a little more dreadful." + +"In that case," said the laureate, "I can compose a few more verses in +which the blast makes the tennis-court over us cave in and bury all the +cake and jam we have in the larder, or if he thinks that too much to +sacrifice, and would like a little pleasure mixed in with the +terribleness, the cod-liver oil bottle might be destroyed." + +"I wouldn't spoil the cake and jam," said Jimmieboy's voice, in reply to +this. "But the cod-liver oil might go." + +"Very well," said the laureate, and then he bowed low again and sang: + + "But there is balm for our annoy, + For next the blast doth spoil + Six hundred quarts--O joy! O joy!-- + Of vile cod-liver oil." + +"I should think you would have liked that," said Jimmieboy's voice. + +"I would have," said the king, "because you know the law of this country +requires the king to consume a bottle of cod-liver oil every day, and if +the bottles were all broken, perhaps the law, too, would have been +crushed out of existence. But, after all, I'd rather be king with +cod-liver oil than have my kingdom ruined and do without it. How would +you like to see our gardens?" + +"Very much," said Jimmieboy. "I'm fond of flowers." + +The king laughed. + +"What a droll idea," he said, turning to the laureate. "The idea of +flowers growing in gardens! Write me a rhyme on the drollness of the +idea." + +The laureate sighed. It was evident that he was getting tired of +composing verses to order. + +"I hear and obey," he replied, shortly, and then he recited as follows: + + "To think of wasting: any time + In raising flowers, I think, + Is worse than writing nonsense-rhyme, + Or frying purple ink. + + "It's queerer really than the act + Of painting sword-fish green; + Or sailing down a cataract + To please a magazine. + + "Indeed, it really seems to me, + Who now am very old, + The drollest bit of drollery + That ever has been drolled." + +"But what do you raise in your gardens?" asked Jimmieboy, as the +laureate completed his composition. + +"Nothing, of course," said the king. "What's a garden for, anyhow? +Pleasure, isn't it?" + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy's voice, "but----" + +"There isn't any but about it," said the king. "If a garden is for +pleasure it must not be worked in. Business and pleasure are two very +different things, and you cannot raise flowers without working." + +"But how do you get pleasure out of a garden when you don't raise +anything in it?" + +"Aren't you dull!" ejaculated the king. "Write me a quatrain on his +dullness, O laureate." + +"Confound his dullness!" muttered the laureate. "I'm rapidly wearing +out, poetizing about this boy." Then he added, aloud: "Certainly, your +majesty. Here it is: + + "He is the very dullest lad + I've seen in all my life; + For dullness he is quite as bad + As any oyster-knife." + +"Is that all?" asked the king, with a frown. + +"I'm afraid four lines is as many as I can squeeze into a quatrain," +said the laureate, returning the frown with interest. + +"Then tell this young man's ear, sirrah, how it comes that we get +pleasure out of a garden in which nothing grows." + +"If I must--I suppose I must," growled the laureate; and then he +recited: + + "The plan is thus, O little wit, + You'll see it in a minute; + We get our pleasures out of it, + Because there's none within it." + +"That is very poor poetry, Laury!" snapped the king. + +"If you don't like it, don't take it," retorted the laureate. "I'm tired +of this business, anyhow." + +"And what, pray," cried the king, striding angrily forward to the +mutinous poet, "what are you going to do about it?" + +"I'm going to get up a revolution," retorted the laureate, shaking his +quill pen fiercely at the king. "If I go to the people to-morrow, and +promise not to write any more poetry, they'll all be so grateful they'll +make me king, and set you to work wheeling coal in the mines for the +mortals." + +The king's face grew so dark with anger as the laureate spoke that +Jimmieboy's eye could hardly see two inches before itself, and in haste +the little fellow withdrew it from the scene. What happened next he +never knew, but that missiles were thrown by the quarreling king and +poet he was certain, for there was a tremendous shout, and something +just tipped the end of his ear and went whizzing by, and rubbing his +eyes, the boy looked about him, and discovered that he was still lying +face downward upon the flat rock, but it was no longer transparent. + +Off in the bushes directly back of him was his father, looking for a +tennis ball. This, some people say, is the object that whizzed past +Jimmieboy's ear, but to this day the little fellow believes that it was +nothing less than the king's crown, which that worthy monarch had hurled +at the laureate, that did this. + +For my part I take sides with neither, for, as a matter of fact, I know +nothing about it. + + + + +V. + +JIMMIEBOY IN THE LIBRARY. + + +"I'm going to sit in this comfor'ble arm-chair by the fire," said +Jimmieboy, climbing up into the capacious easy-chair in his father's +library, and settling down upon its soft cushioned seat. "I've had my +supper, and it was all of cold things, and I think I ought to get 'em +warmed up before I go to bed." + +"Very well," said his papa. "Only be careful, and keep your feet awake. +It wouldn't be comfortable if your feet should go to sleep just about +the time your mamma wanted you to go to bed. I'd have to carry you up +stairs, if that should happen, and the doctor says if I carry you much +longer I'll have a back like a dromedary." + +"Oh, that would be lovely!" said Jimmieboy. "I'd just like to see you +with two humps on your back--one for me, and one for my little +brother." + +"Dear me!" said a gruff voice at Jimmieboy's side--"Dear me! The idea of +a boy of your age, with two sets of alphabet picture blocks and a +dictionary right in the house, not knowing that a dromedary has only one +hump! Ridiculous! Next thing you'll be trying to say that the one-eyed +catteraugus has two eyes." + +Jimmieboy leaned over the arm of the chair to see who it could be that +spoke. It wasn't his father, that much was certain, because his father +had often said that it wasn't possible to do more than three things at +once, and he was now doing that many--smoking a cigar, reading a book, +and playing with the locket on the end of his watch-chain. + +"Who are you, anyhow?" said Jimmieboy, as he peered over the arm, and +saw nothing but the Dictionary. + +"I'm myself--that's who," was the answer, and then Jimmieboy was +interested to see that it was nothing less than the Dictionary itself +that had addressed him. "You ought to be more careful about the way you +talk," added the Dictionary. "Your diction is airy without being +dictionary, if you know what that means, which you don't, as the Rose +remarked to the Cauliflower, when the Cauliflower said he'd be a finer +Rose than the Rose if he smelled as sweet." + +"I'm very sorry," Jimmieboy replied, meekly, "I forgot that the +dromedary only had one hump." + +"I don't believe you'd know a dromedary from a milk dairy if they both +stood before you," retorted the Dictionary. "Now would you?" + +"Yes, I think I would," said Jimmieboy. "The milk dairy would have cream +in bottles in its windows, and the dromedary wouldn't." + +"Ah, but you don't know why!" sang the Dictionary. "You don't even begin +to know why the dromedary wouldn't have cream in bottles in its +windows." + +"No," said Jimmieboy, "I don't. Why wouldn't he?" + +"Because he has no windows," laughed the Dictionary; "and between you +and me, that's one of the respects in which the dromedary is like a +base-drum--there isn't a solitary window in either of 'em." + +"You know a terrible lot, don't you?" said Jimmieboy, patronizingly. + +"Terrible isn't the word. I'm simply hideously learned," said the +Dictionary. "Why, I've been called a vocabulary, I know so many words." + +"I wish you'd tell me all you know," said Jimmieboy, resting his elbows +on the arms of the chair, and putting his chin on the palms of his two +hands. "I'd like to know more than papa does--just for once. Do you know +enough to tell me anything he doesn't know?" + +"Do I?" laughed the Dictionary. "Well, don't I? Rather. Why, I'm telling +him things all the time. He came and asked me the other night what +raucous meant, and how to spell macrobiotic." + +"And did you really know?" asked Jimmieboy, full of admiration for this +wonderful creature. + +"Yes; and a good deal more besides. Why, if he had asked me, I could +have told him what a zygomatic zoophagan is; but he never asked me. +Queer, wasn't it?" + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "What is one of those things?" + +"A zygomatic zoophagan? Why that's a--er--let me see," said the +Dictionary, turning over his leaves. "I like to search myself pretty +thoroughly before I commit myself to a definition. A zygomatic zoophagan +is a sort of cheeky animal that eats other animals. You are one, though +I wouldn't brag about it if I were you. You are an animal, and at times +a very cheeky animal, and I've seen you eat beef. That's what makes you +a zygomatic zoophagan." + +"Do I bite?" asked Jimmieboy, a little afraid of himself since he had +learned what a fearful creature he was. + +"Only at dinner-time, and unless you are very careless about it and eat +too hastily you need not be afraid. Very few zygomatic zoophagans ever +bite themselves. In fact, it never happened really but once that I know +of. That was the time the zoophagan got the best of the eight-winged +tallahassee. Ever hear about that?" + +"No, I never did," said Jimmieboy. "How did it happen?" + +"This way," said the Dictionary, as he stood up and made a bow to +Jimmieboy. And then he recited these lines: + +[Illustration: THE CALIPEE AND THE ZOOPHAGAN.] + +"THE CALIPEE AND THE ZOOPHAGAN." + + "The yellow-faced Zoophagan + Was strolling near the sea, + When from the depths of ocean + Sprang forth that dread amp-hib-ian, + The mawkish Calipee. + + "The Tallahassee bird sometimes + The Calipee is called. + His eyes are round and big as dimes, + He has eight wings, composes rhymes, + His head is very bald. + + "Now if there are two creatures in + This world who disagree-- + Two creatures full of woe and sin-- + They are the Zo-oph, pale and thin, + And that bad Calipee. + + "Whene'er they meet they're sure to fight, + No matter where they are; + Nor do they stop by day or night, + Till one is beaten out of sight, + Or safety seeks afar. + + "And, sad to say, the Calipee + Is stronger of the two; + And so he'd won the victory + At all times from his enemy, + The slight and slender Zoo. + + "But this time it went otherwise, + For, so the story goes, + As yonder sun set in the skies, + The Calipee, to his surprise, + Was whacked square on the nose. + + "Which is the fatal, mortal part + Of all the Calipees; + Much more important than the heart, + For life is certain to depart + When Cali cannot sneeze. + + "The world, surprised, asked 'How was it? + How did he do it so? + Where did the Zoo get so much wit? + How did he learn so well to hit + So fatally his foe?' + + "''Twas but his strategy,' then cried + The friends of little Zoo; + 'As Cali plunged, our hero shied, + Ran twenty feet off to one side, + And bit himself in two. + + "'And then, you see, the Calipee + Was certainly undone; + The Zo-oph beat him easily, + As it must nearly always be + When there are two to one.' + +"Rather a wonderful tale that," continued the Dictionary. "I don't know +that I really believe it, though. It's too great a tale for any dog to +wag, eh?" + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I don't think I believe it either. If the +zoophagan bit himself in two, I should think he'd have died. I know I +would." + +"No, you wouldn't," said the Dictionary; "because you couldn't. It isn't +a question of would and could, but of wouldn't and couldn't. By-the-way, +here's a chance for you to learn something. What's the longest letter in +the alphabet?" + +"They're all about the same, aren't they?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"They look so, but they aren't. L is the longest. An English ell is +forty-five inches long. Here's another. What letter does a Chinaman +wear on his head?" + +"Double eye!" cried Jimmieboy. + +"That's pretty good," said the Dictionary, with an approving nod; "but +you're wrong. He wears a Q. And I'll tell you why a Q is like a +Chinaman. Chinamen don't amount to a row of beans, and a Q is nothing +but a zero with a pig-tail. Do you know why they put A at the head of +the alphabet?" + +"No." + +"Because Alphabet begins with an A." + +"Then why don't they put T at the end of it?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"They do," said the Dictionary. "I-T--it." + +Jimmieboy laughed to himself. He had no idea there was so much fun in +the Dictionary. "Tell me something more," he said. + +"Let me see. Oh, yes," said the Dictionary, complacently. "How's this? + + "'Oh, what is a yak, sir?' the young man said; + 'I really much wish to hear.' + 'A queer-looking cad with a bushy head, + A buffalo-robe all over him spread, + And whiskers upon his ear.' + + "And tell me, I pray,' said the boy in drab, + Just what's a Thelphusi-an?' + 'A great big crab with nippers that nab + Whatever the owner desires to grab-- + A crusty crustace-an." + + "'I'm obliged,' said the boy, with a wide, wide smirk, + As he slowly moved away. + 'Will you tell me, sir, ere I go to work-- + To toil till the night brings along its murk-- + How high peanuts are to-day?' + + "And I had to give in, + For I couldn't say; + And the boy, with a grin, + Moved off on his way." + +"That was my own personal experience," said the Dictionary. "The boy was +a very mean boy, too. He went about telling people that there were a +great many things I didn't know, which was very true, only he never said +what they were, and his friends thought they were important things, like +the meaning of sagaciousness, and how many jays are there in geranium, +and others. If he'd told 'em that it was things like the price of +peanuts, and how are the fish biting to-day, and is your mother's +seal-skin sack plush or velvet, that I didn't know, they'd not have +thought it disgraceful. Oh, it was awfully mean!" + +"Particularly after you had told him what those other things were," said +Jimmieboy. + +"Yes; but I got even with him. He came to me one day to find out what an +episode was, and I told him it was a poem in hysterical hexameters, with +a refrain repeated every eighteenth line, to be sung to slow music." + +"And what happened?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"He told his teacher that, and he was kept in for two months, and made +to subtract two apples from one lunch every recess." + +"Oh, my, how awful!" cried Jimmieboy. + +"But it served him right. Don't you think so?" said the Dictionary. + +"Yes, I do," said Jimmieboy. "But tell me. What'll I tell papa that he +doesn't know?" + +"Tell him that a sasspipedon is a barrel with four sides, and is open at +both ends, and is a much better place for cigar ashes than his lap, +because they pass through it to the floor, and so do not soil his +clothes." + +"Good!" said Jimmieboy, peering across the room to where his father +still sat smoking. "I think I'll tell him now. Say, papa," he cried +sitting up, "what is a sasspipedon?" + +"I don't know. What?" answered Jimmieboy's father, laying his paper +down, and coming over to where the little boy sat. + +"It's a--it's a--it's an ash-barrel," said the little fellow, trying to +remember what the Dictionary had said. + +"Who said so?" asked papa. + +"The Dictionary," answered Jimmieboy. + +And when Jimmieboy's father came to examine the Dictionary on the +subject, the disagreeable old book hadn't a thing to say about the +sasspipedon, and Jimmieboy went up to bed wondering what on earth it all +meant, anyhow. + + + + +VI. + +JIMMIEBOY'S SNOWMAN. + + +The snow had been falling fast for well-nigh forty-eight hours and +Jimmieboy was almost crazy with delight. He loved the snow because it +was possible to do so much with it. One didn't need to go into a store, +for instance, and part with ten cents every time one happened to want a +ball, when there was snow on the ground. Then, too, Jimmieboy had a new +sled he wanted to try, but best of all, his father had promised to make +him a snowman, with shoe-buttons for eyes and a battered old hat on his +head, if perchance there could be found anywhere in the house a hat of +that sort. Fortunately a battered old hat was found, and the snowman +when finished looked very well in it. I say fortunately because +Jimmieboy had fully made up his mind that a battered hat was absolutely +necessary to make the snowman a success, and had not the old one been +found I very much fear the youth would have taken his father's new one +and battered that into the state of usefulness required to complete the +icy statue to his satisfaction. + +After the snowman was finished Jimmieboy romped about him and shouted in +great glee for an hour or more, and then, growing a little weary of the +sport, he ran up into his nursery to rest for a little while. He had not +been there very long however when he became, for some unknown reason, +uneasy about the funny looking creature he had left behind him. Running +to the window he looked out to see if the snowman was all right, and he +was much surprised to discover that he wasn't there at all. He couldn't +have melted, that was certain, for the air was colder than it had been +when the snowman was put up. No one could have stolen him because he was +too big, and so, well, it certainly was a strange conclusion, but none +the less the only one, he must have walked off himself. + +"It's mighty queer!" thought Jimmieboy. "He was there ten minutes ago." + +Then he ran down stairs and peered out of the window. At the front of +the house no snowman was in sight. Then he went to a side window and +looked out. Still no snowman. And then the door-bell rang, and Jimmieboy +went to the door and opened it, and, dear me! how he laughed when he saw +who it was that had rung the bell, as would also have you, for, +honestly, it was no one else than the snowman himself. + +"What do you want?" asked Jimmieboy. The snowman made a low bow to +Jimmieboy, and replied: + + "I got so weary standing there, + I thought I'd ask you for a chair; + 'Tis rather cool of me, I know, + But coolness in a man of snow + Is quite the fashion in these days, + And to be stylish always pays." + +"Won't you come in?" asked Jimmieboy politely. + +The snowman stared at Jimmieboy with all the power of the shoe-buttons. +He was evidently surprised. In a moment or two, however, he recovered +and said: + + "Indeed, I'll enter not that door, + I've tried it once or twice before." + +"What of that?" asked Jimmieboy. "Didn't you like it?" + + "Oh, yes; I liked it well enough, + Although it used me pretty rough; + I lost a nose and foot and ear, + Last time I happened to come here." + +"Do you always speak in rhyme?" asked Jimmieboy, noticing the snowman's +habit for the first time. + +"Always, except when I speak in prose," said the snowman. "But perhaps +you don't like rhyme?" + +"Yes, I do like rhyme very much," said Jimmieboy. + +"Then you like me," said the snowman, "because I'm mostly rime myself. +But say, don't stand there with the door open letting all the heat out +into the world. If you want to talk to me come outside where we can be +comfortable." + +"Very well," said Jimmieboy. "I'll come, if you'll wait until I bundle +up a little so as to keep warm." + +"All right, I'll wait," the snowman answered, "only don't you get too +warm. I'll take you up to where I live and introduce you to my boys if +you like--only hurry. If a thaw should set in we might have trouble. + + "Of all mean things I ever saw + The meanest of them is a thaw." + +Jimmieboy, pondering deeply over his curious experience, quickly donned +his overcoat and rubber boots, and in less time than it takes to tell it +was out of doors again with the snowman. The huge white creature smiled +happily as Jimmieboy came out, and taking him by the hand they went off +up the road together. + +"I'm glad you weren't offended with me because I wouldn't go in and sit +down in your house," said the snowman, after they had walked a little +way. "I had a very narrow escape thirty winters ago when I was young and +didn't know any better than to accept an invitation of that sort. I +lived in Russia then, and a small boy very much like you asked me to go +into his house with him and see some funny picture-books he had. I said +all right, and in I went, never thinking that the house was hot and that +I'd be in danger of melting away. The boy got out his picture-books and +we sat down before a blazing log fire. Suddenly the boy turned white as +I was, and cried out: + +"'Hi! What have you done with your leg?' + +"'I brought it in with me, didn't I?' I said, looking down to where the +leg ought to be, and noticing much to my concern that it was gone. + +"'I thought so,' said the boy. 'Maybe you left it down on the hat-rack +with your hat and cane.' + +"'Well I wish you'd go and see,' said I, very nervously. 'I don't want +to lose that leg if I can help it.' + +"So off the boy went," continued the snowman, "and I waited there before +the fire wondering what on earth had become of the missing limb. The boy +soon came back and announced that he couldn't find it. + +"'Then I must hop around until I do find it,' I put in, starting up. +Would you believe it, Jimmieboy, that the minute I tried to rise and hop +off on the search I discovered that my other leg was gone too?" + +"Dear me!" said Jimmieboy. "How dreadful." + +"It was fearful," returned the snowman, "but that wasn't half. I raised +my hand to my forehead so as to think better, when off dropped my right +arm, and as I reached out with my left to pick it up again that dropped +off too. Then as my vest also disappeared, the boy cried out: + +"'Why, I know what's the matter. You are melting away!' + +"He was right. The heat of the log fire was just withering me right up. +Fortunately as my neck began to go and my head rolled off the chair +onto the floor, the boy had presence of mind enough to pick it up--it +was all that was left of me--and throw it out of the window. If it +hadn't been for that timely act of his I should have met the horrid fate +of my cousin the iceberg." + +"What was that?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, he wanted to travel," said the snowman, "so he floated off down to +South America and waked up one morning to find himself nothing but a +tankful of the Gulf of Mexico. We never saw the poor fellow again." + +"I understand now why you didn't want to come in," said Jimmieboy, "and +I'm glad you didn't do as I asked you, for I don't think mamma would +have been pleased if you'd melted away in the parlor." + +"I know she wouldn't," said the snowman. "She's like the woman mentioned +in the poem, who + + "--hated flies and muddy shoes, + As well as pigs and kangaroos; + But most of all she did abhor, + A melted snow-drift on the floor." + +"Do you live near here?" asked Jimmieboy as he trudged along at the +snowman's side. + +"Well," replied the snowman, "I do, and I don't. When I do, I do, and +when I don't, it's otherwise. This climate doesn't agree with me in the +summer, and so when summer comes I move up to the North Pole. Ever been +there?" + +"No," said Jimmieboy, "what sort of a place is it?" + +"Fine," returned the snowman. "The thermometer is always at least twenty +miles below zero, even on the hottest days, and fire can't by any +possibility come near us. Only one fire ever tried to and it was frozen +stiff before it got within a hundred leagues of us. In winter, however, +I come to places like this, and bring my little boys with me. We hire a +convenient snow-drift and live in that. There's mine now right ahead of +you." + +Jimmieboy peered curiously along the road, at the far end of which he +could see a huge mound of snow like the one the famous blizzard had +piled up in front of his father's house some time before Jimmieboy and +the world came to know each other. + +"Do you live in that?" he asked. + +"Yes," said the snowman. "And I will say that it's one of the most +conveniently arranged snow-drifts I ever lived in. The house part of it +is always as cold as ice--it's cooled by a special kind of refrigerator +I had put in, which consumes about half a ton of ice a week." + +Jimmieboy laughed. + +"It's a cold furnace, eh?" he said. + +"Precisely," answered the snowman. "And besides that the house is +deliciously draughty so that we have no difficulty in keeping cold. Once +in a while my boys run in the sun and get warmed through, but I dose 'em +up with ice-water and cold cream and they soon get chilled again. But +come, shall we go in?" + +The pedestrians had by this time reached the side of the snow-drift, and +Jimmieboy was pleased to see a door at one side of it. This the snowman +opened, and they entered together a marvelously beautiful and extensive +garden glistening with frosty flowers and snow-clad trees. At the end of +the garden was a little white house that looked like the icing on +Jimmieboy's birthday cake. As they approached it, the door of the little +house was thrown open and a dozen small-sized snow boys rushed out and +began to pelt the snowman and Jimmieboy with tennis balls. + +"Hold up, boys," cried the snowman. "I've brought a friend home to see +you." + +The boys stopped at once, and Jimmieboy was introduced to them. For +hours they entertained him in the gardens and in the house. They showed +him wondrous snow toys, among which were rocking horses, railway trains, +soldiers--all made of the same soft fleecy substance from which the +snowman and his children were constructed. When he had played for a long +time with these they gave him caramels and taffy and cream cakes, these +also made of snow, though as far as their taste went they were better +than those made of sugar and chocolate and cream, or, at least, it +seemed so to Jimmieboy at the time. + +After this bit of luncheon the boys invited him out to coast, and he +went along with them to the top of a high hill without any snow upon it, +and for hours he and they slid from summit to base in great red-wheeled +wagons. It took his breath away the first time he went down, but when he +got used to it he found the sport delightful. He was glad, however, when +a voice from the little white house called to the children to return. + +"Come in now, boys," it said. "It is getting too warm for you to stay +out." + +The boys were obedient to the word and they all--a dozen of them at +least--trooped back into the house where Jimmieboy was welcomed by his +friend the snowman again. The snowman looked a little anxious, Jimmieboy +thought, but he supposed this was because the littlest snowboy had +overheated himself at his play and had come in minus two fingers and an +ear. It was not this, however, that bothered him, as Jimmieboy found out +in a few minutes, for the snowman simply restored the missing fingers +and the ear by making a new lot for the little fellow out of a handful +of snow he got in the garden. Anything so easily replaced was not worth +worrying over. The real cause of his anxiety came out when the father of +this happy little family of snow boys called Jimmieboy to one side. + +"You must go home right away," he said. "I'm sorry, but we have got to +fly just as hard as we can or we are lost." + +"But----" said Jimmieboy. + +"Don't ask for reasons," returned the snowman, gathering his little +snowboys together and rushing off with them in tow. "I haven't time to +give them. Just read that and you'll see. Farewell." + +Then he made off down the garden path, and as he fled with his babies +Jimmieboy picked up the thing the snowman had told him to read, and +wandered back into the house, holding it in his hand. It was only a +newspaper, but at the top of the first column was an announcement in +huge letters: + + WARM WAVE TO-NIGHT. + + * * * * * + + WISE SNOWMEN WILL MOVE NORTH AT ONCE. + +When Jimmieboy saw this he knew right away why he had been deserted, but +to this day he doesn't know how he knew it, because at the time this +happened he had not learned how to read. At all events he discovered +what the trouble was instantly, and then he decided that as he had been +left by all of his new friends he would go home. He walked to the front +door and opened it, and what do you suppose it opened into? + +The garden? + +Not a bit of it. + +Into Jimmieboy's nursery itself, and when the door closed upon him after +he had stepped through it into the nursery and Jimmieboy turned to look +at it, lo, and behold it wasn't there! + +Nor was the snowman to be found the next morning. It was quite evident +that he had got away from the warm wave that appeared on the scene the +night before, for there wasn't even a sign of the shoe-button eyes or +the battered hat, as there certainly would have been had he melted +instead of run away. + + + + +VII. + +THE BICYCLOPÆDIA BIRD. + + +"Boo!" said something. + +And Jimmieboy of course was startled. So startled was he that, according +to his own statement, he jumped ninety-seven feet, though for my own +part I don't believe he really jumped more than thirty-three. He was too +sleepy to count straight anyhow. He had been lolling under his canvas +tent down near the tennis-court all the afternoon, getting lazier and +lazier every minute, and finally he had turned over square on his back, +put his head on a small cushion his mamma had made for him, closed his +eyes, and then came the "Boo!" + +"I wonder--" he said, as he gazed about him, seeing no sign of any +creature that could by any possibility say "Boo!" however. + +"Of course you do. That's why I've come," interrupted a voice from the +bushes. "More children of your age suffer from the wonders than from +measles, mumps, or canthaves." + +"What are canthaves?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Canthaves are things you can't have. Don't you ever suffer because you +can't have things?" queried the voice. + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" returned Jimmieboy. "Lots and lots of times." + +"And didn't you ever have the wonders so badly that you got cross and +wouldn't eat anything but sweet things for dinner?" the voice asked. + +"I don't know exactly what you mean by the wonders," replied Jimmieboy. + +"Why, wonders is a disease that attacks boys who want to know why things +are and can't find out," said the voice. + +"Oh, my, yes I've had that lots of times," laughed Jimmieboy. "Why, only +this morning I asked my papa why there weren't any dandelionesses, and +he wouldn't tell me because he said he had to catch a train, and I've +been wondering why ever since." + +"I thought you'd had it; all boys do get it sooner or later, and it's a +thing you can have any number of times unless you have me around," said +the voice. + +"What are you anyhow?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"I'm what they call the Encyclopædia Bird. I'm a regular owl for wisdom. +I know everything--just like the Cyclopædia; and I have two wheels +instead of legs, which is why they call me the Bicyclopædia Bird. I +can't let you see me, because these are not my office hours. I can only +be seen between ten and two on the thirty-second of March every +seventeenth year. You can get a fair idea of what I look like from my +photograph, though." + +[Illustration] + +As the voice said this, sure enough a photograph did actually pop out of +the bush, and land at Jimmieboy's feet. He sprang forward eagerly, +stooped, and picking it up, gazed earnestly at it. And a singular +creature the Bicyclopædia Bird must have been if the photograph did him +justice. He had the head of an owl, but his body was oblong in shape, +just like a book, and, as the voice had said, in place of legs were two +wheels precisely like those of a bicycle. The effect was rather +pleasing, but so funny that Jimmieboy really wanted to laugh. He did not +laugh, however, for fear of hurting the Bird's feelings, which the Bird +noticed and appreciated. + +"Thank you," he said, simply. + +"What for?" asked Jimmieboy, looking up from the photograph, and peering +into the bush in the vain hope of catching a glimpse of the Bird itself. + +"For not laughing," replied the Bird. "If you had laughed I should have +biked away at once because I am of no value to any one who laughs at my +personal appearance. It always makes me forget all I know, and that does +me up for a whole year. If I forget all I know, you see, I have to study +hard to learn it all over again, and that's a tremendous job, +considering how much knowledge there is to be had in the world. So you +see, by being polite and kind enough not to laugh at me, who can't help +being funny to look at, and who am not to blame for looking that way, +because I am not a self-made Bird, you are really the gainer, for I +promise you I'll tell you anything you want to know." + +"That's very nice of you," returned Jimmieboy; "and perhaps, to begin +with, you'll tell me something that I ought to want to know, whether I +do or not." + +"That is a very wise idea," said the Bicyclopædia Bird, "and I'll try to +do it. Let me see; now, do you know why the Pollywog is always amiable?" + +"No," returned Jimmieboy. "I never even knew that he was, and so +couldn't really wonder why." + +"But you wonder why now, don't you?" asked the voice, anxiously. "For if +you don't, I can't tell you." + +"I'm just crazy to know," Jimmieboy responded. + +"Then listen, and I will tell you," said the voice. And then the strange +bird recited this poem about + +THE POLLYWOG. + + "The Pollywog's a perfect type + Of amiability. + He never uses angry speech + Wherever he may be. + He never calls his brother names, + Or tweaks his sister's nose; + He never pulls the sea-dog's tail, + Or treads upon his toes. + + "He never says an unkind word, + And frown he never will. + A smile is ever on his lips, + E'en when he's feeling ill. + And this is why: when Pollywog + The first came on the scene, + He had a temper like a cat's-- + His eye with it was green. + + "Now, just about the time when he + Began to lose his tail, + To change into a croaking frog, + He came across a nail-- + A nail so rusty that it looked + Just like an angle-worm, + Except that it was straight and stiff, + And so could never squirm. + + "And Polly, feeling hungry, to + Assuage his appetite, + Swam boldly up to that old nail, + And gave it such a bite, + He nearly broke his upper jaw; + His lower jaw he bent. + And then he got so very mad, + His temper simply went. + + "He lost it so completely as + He lashed and gnashed around, + That though this happened years ago, + It has not since been found. + And that is why, at all times, in + The Pollywog you see, + A model of that virtue rare-- + True Amiability." + +"Now, I dare say," continued the Bird--"I dare say you might have asked +your father--who really knows a great deal, considering he isn't my twin +brother--sixteen million four hundred and twenty-three times why the +Pollywog is always so good-natured, and he couldn't have answered you +more than once out of the whole lot, and he'd have been wrong even +then." + +"It must be lovely to know so much," said Jimmieboy. + +"It is," said the Bird; "that is, it is lovely when you don't have to +keep it all to yourself. It's very nice to tell things. That's really +the best part of secrets, I think. It is such fun telling them. Now, +why does the sun rise in the morning?" + +"I don't know. Why?" + +"For the same reason that you do," returned the sage Bird. "Because it +is time to get up." + +"Well, here's a thing I don't know about," said Jimmieboy. "What is 'to +alarm?'" + +"To frighten--to scare--to discombobulate," replied the Bird. "Why?" + +"Well, I don't see why an alarm-clock is called an alarm-clock, because +it doesn't ever alarm anybody," said Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, it doesn't, eh?" cried the Bird. "Well, that's just where you are +mistaken. It alarms the people or the animals you dream about when you +are asleep, and they make such a noise getting away that they wake you +up. Why, an alarm-clock saved my life once. I dreamed that I fell asleep +on board a steamboat that went so fast hardly anybody could stay on +board of her--she just regularly slipped out from under their feet, and +unless a passenger could run fast enough to keep up with her, or was +chained fast enough to keep aboard of her, he'd get dropped astern every +single time. I dreamed I was aboard of her one day, and that to keep on +deck I chained myself to the smoke-stack, and then dozed off. Just as I +was dozing, a Misinformation Bird, who was jealous of me, sneaked up and +cut the chain. As he expected, the minute I was cut loose the boat +rushed from under me, and the first thing I knew I was struggling in the +water. While I was struggling there, I was attacked by a Catfish. Cats +are death to birds, you know, and I really had given myself up for lost, +when '_ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling_' went the alarm-clock in the corner of +my cage; the fish turned blue with fear, swished his tail about in his +fright, and the splashing of the water waked me up, and there I was +standing on one wheel on my perch, safe and sound. If that clock hadn't +gone off and alarmed that Catfish, I am afraid I should have been +forever lost to the world." + +"I see now; but I never knew before why it was called an alarm-clock, +and I've wondered about it a good deal," said Jimmieboy. "Now, here's +another thing I've bothered over many a time: What's the use of weeds?" + +"Oh, that's easy," said the Bird, with a laugh. "To make lawns look +prettier next year than they do this." + +"I don't see how that is," said Jimmieboy. + +"Clear as window-glass. This year you have weeds on your lawn, don't +you?" + +"Yes," returned Jimmieboy. + +"And you make them get out, don't you?" said the Bird. + +"Yes," assented Jimmieboy. + +"Well, there you are. By getting out they make your lawns prettier. +That's one of the simplest things in the world. But here's a thing I +should think you'd wonder at. Why do houses have shutters on their +windows?" asked the Bird. + +"I know why," said Jimmieboy. "It's to keep the sun out." + +"That's nonsense, because the sun is so much larger than any house that +was ever built it couldn't get in if it tried," returned the feathered +sage. + +"Then I don't know why. Why?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"So as to wake people up by banging about on windy nights, and they are +a mighty useful invention too," said the Bird. "I knew of a whole family +that got blown away once just because they hadn't any shutters to bang +about and warn them of their danger. It was out in the West, where they +have cyclones, which are things that pick up houses and toss them about +just as you would pebbles. A Mr. and Mrs. Podlington had built a house +in the middle of a big field for themselves and their seventeen +children. Mr. Podlington was very rich, but awful mean, and when the +house was finished, all except the shutters, he said he wasn't going to +have any shutters because they cost too much, and so they hadn't a +shutter on the house. One night after they had lived where they were +about six months they all went to bed about nine o'clock, and by ten +they were sound asleep, every one of them. At eleven o'clock a breeze +sprang up. This grew very shortly into a gale. Then it became a +hurricane, and by two o'clock it was a cyclone. One cyclone wouldn't +have hurt much, but at three o'clock two more came along, and the first +thing the Podlington family knew their house was blown off its +foundations, lifted high up in the air, and at breakfast-time was out of +sight, and, what is worse, it has never come down anywhere, and all this +happened ten years ago." + +"But where did it go?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Nobody knows. Maybe it landed in the moon. Maybe it's being blown about +on the wings of those cyclones yet. I don't believe we'll ever know," +answered the Bird. "But you can see just why that all happened. It was +Mr. Podlington's meanness about the shutters, and nothing else. If he +had had shutters on that house, at least one of them would have flopped +bangety-bang against the house all night, and the chances are that they +would all have been waked up by it before the cyclone came, and in +plenty of time to save themselves. In fact, I think very likely they +could have fastened the house more securely to the ground, and saved it +too, if they had waked up and seen what was going on." + +[Illustration: "I'LL NEVER BUILD A HOUSE WITHOUT SHUTTERS."] + +"I'll never build a house without shutters," said Jimmieboy, as he tried +to fancy the condition of the Podlingtons whisking about in the air for +ten long years--nearly five years longer than he himself had lived. If +they had landed in the moon it wouldn't have been so bad, but this other +possible and even more likely fate of mounting on the wind ever higher +and higher and not landing anywhere was simply dreadful to think about. + +"I wouldn't, especially in the cyclone country," returned the voice in +the bush. "But I'll tell you of one thing that would save you if you +really did have to build a house without shutters; build it with wings. +You've heard of houses with wings, of course?" + +"Yes, indeed," said Jimmieboy. "Why, our house has three wings. One of +'em was put on it last summer, so that we could have a bigger +kitchen." + +"I remember," said the Bird. "I wondered a good deal about that wing +until I found out it was for a kitchen, and not to fly with. The house +had enough wings to fly with without the new one. In fact, the new one +for flying purposes would be as useless as a third wheel to a bicycle." + +"What do you mean by to fly with?" asked Jimmieboy, puzzled at this +absurd remark of the Bird. + +"Exactly what I say. Wings are meant to fly with, aren't they? I hope +you knew that!" said the Bird. "So if the Podlingtons' house had had +wings it might have got back all right. It could have worked its way +slowly out of the cyclone, and then sort of rested on its wings a little +until it was prepared to swoop down on to its old foundations, alighting +just where it was before. A trip through the air under such +circumstances would have been rather pleasant, I think--much pleasanter +than going off into the air forever, without any means of getting back." + +"But," asked Jimmieboy, "even if Mr. Podlington's house had had wings, +how could he have made them work?" + +"Why, how stupid of you!" cried the Bird. "Don't you know that he could +have taken hold of the----" + +"Ting-a-ling-a-ling a-ling-a-ling!" rang the alarm-clock up in the +cook's room, which had been set for six o'clock in the afternoon instead +of for six in the morning by some odd mistake of Mary Ann's. + +"The alarm! The alarm!" shrieked the Bird, in terror. + +And then the invisible creature, if Jimmieboy could judge by the noise +in the bush, seemed to make off as fast as he could go, his cries of +fear growing fainter and fainter as the wise Bird got farther and +farther away, until finally they died away in the distance altogether. + +Jimmieboy sprang to his feet, looked down the road along which his +strange friend had fled, and then walked into the house, wishing that +the alarm-clock had held off just a little longer, so that he might have +learned how the wings of a house should be managed to make the house fly +off into the air. He really felt as if he would like to try the +experiment with his own house. + + + + +VIII. + +GIANT THE JACK KILLER. + + +Jimmieboy was turning over the pages of his fairy book the other night, +trying to refresh his memory concerning the marvelous doings of the +fairy-land people by looking at the pictures. His papa was too tired to +read to him, and as no one else in the house was willing to undertake +the task, the boy was doing his best to entertain himself, and as it +happened he got more out of his own efforts than he ever derived from +the efforts of others. He had dallied long over the weird experiences of +Cinderella, and had just turned over the pages which lead up to the +story of Jack the Giant Killer, when something in the picture of the +Giant's castle seemed to move. + +Looking a little more closely at the picture in a startled sort of way, +Jimmieboy saw that the moving thing was the knob of the castle door, and +in a jiffy the door itself opened, and a huge homely creature whom +Jimmieboy recognized at once as an ogre stuck his head out. For a moment +the little fellow felt disposed to cry for help. Surely if the Giant +could open the door in the picture there was no reason why he should not +step out of the book entirely and make a speedy meal of Jimmieboy, who, +realizing that he was entirely unarmed, was inclined to run and hide +behind his papa's back. His fast oozing courage was quickly restored, +however, by the Giant himself, who winked at him in a genial sort of +fashion as much as to say: "Nonsense, boy, I wouldn't eat you, if I +could." The wink he followed up at once with a smile, and then he said: + +"That you, Jimmieboy?" + +"Yes, sir," said Jimmieboy, very civilly indeed. "I'm me. Are you you?" + +The Giant laughed. + +"Yes," he replied, "and so, of course, we are ourselves. Are you very +busy?" + +"Not very," said Jimmieboy. "Why?" + +"I want a little advice from you," the Giant answered. "I think it's +about time the tables were turned on that miserable little ruffian +Jack. The idea of a big thing like me being killed every day of his +life by a mosquito like Jack is very tiresome, and I want to know if you +don't think it would be fair if I should kill him just once for the sake +of variety. It won't hurt him. He'll come to life again right away just +as we Giants do----" + +"Don't you stay dead when Jack kills you?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"You know the answer to that as well as I do," said the Giant. "You've +had this story read to you every day now for three years, haven't you?" + +"About that," said Jimmieboy. + +"Well, if we staid dead how do you suppose we'd be on hand to be killed +again the next time you had the story read to you?" + +"I never thought of that," said Jimmieboy. + +"Never thought of it?" echoed the ogre. "Why, what kind of thoughts do +you think, anyhow? It's the only thought for a thinker to think I think, +don't you think so?" + +"Say that again, will you?" said Jimmieboy. + +"Couldn't possibly," said the ogre. "In fact, I've forgotten it. But +what do you think of my scheme? Don't you think it would be wise if I +killed Jack just once?" + +"Perhaps it would," said the boy. "That is if it wouldn't hurt him." + +"Hurt him? Didn't I tell you it wouldn't hurt him?" said the Giant. "I +wouldn't hurt that boy for all the world. If I did I'd lose my position. +Why, all I am I owe to him. The fairy people let me live in this +magnificent castle for nothing. They let me rob them of all their +property, and all I have to do in return for this is to be killed by +Jack whenever any little boy or girl in your world desires to be amused +by a tragedy of that sort. So you see I haven't any hard feelings +against him, even if I did call him a miserable little ruffian." + +"Well, I don't exactly like to have Jack killed," said Jimmieboy. "I've +always rather liked him. What do you suppose he would say to it?" + +"That's just the point. I wouldn't kill him unless he was willing. That +would be a violation of my agreement with him, and when he came to he +might sue me for what the lawyers call a breach of contract," said the +ogre. "Now, it seemed to me that if you were to go to Jack and tell him +that you were getting a little tired of having this story end the way it +does all the time, and that you thought it only fair to me that I +should have a chance to celebrate a victory, say once a week--every +Saturday night for instance--he'd be willing to do it." + +"Where can I find him?" asked Jimmieboy. "I just as lief ask him." + +"He's in the picture, two pages farther along, sharpening his sword," +said the ogre. + +"Very well, I'll go see him at once," said Jimmieboy. Then he said +good-by to the Giant, and turned over the pages until he came to the +pictures showing how Jack sharpened his sword on the soles of the shoes +of another giant, whom he had bound and strapped to the floor. + +At first Jimmieboy did not know how to address him. He had often spoken +to the figures in the pictures, but they had never replied to anything +he had said. However, he made a beginning. + +"Ahem!" he said. + +The effect was pleasing, for as he said this Jack stopped sharpening his +blade and turned to see who had spoken. + +"Ah, Jimmieboy!" said the small warrior. "Howdy do. Haven't seen much of +you this week. You've been paying more attention to Hop o' My Thumb than +to me lately." + +"Well, I love you just the same," said Jimmieboy. "I've just seen the +Giant that lives up in the castle with the dragon on the front stoop." + +"He's a good fellow," said Jack. "I'm very fond of him. He never gives +me any trouble, and dies just as easy as if he were falling off a log, +and out of business hours we're great chums. He's had something on his +mind lately, though, that I don't understand. He says being killed every +day is getting monotonous." + +"That's what he said to me," said Jimmieboy. + +"Well, I hope he doesn't resign his position," said Jack, thoughtfully. +"I know it isn't in every way a pleasant one, but he might go farther +and fare worse. The way I kill him is painless, but if he got into that +Bean-stalk boy's hands he'd be all bruised up. You can't fall a mile +without getting hurt, you know, and I like the old fellow too well to +have him go over to that Bean-stalk cousin of mine." + +"He likes you, too," said Jimmieboy, pleased to find that there was so +much good feeling between the two creatures. "But he thinks he ought to +get a chance to win once in a while. He said if he could arrange it with +you to have him kill you once a week--Saturday nights, for +instance--he'd be perfectly contented." + +"That's reasonable enough," said Jack, nodding his head approvingly. +"Did he say how he would like to do it?" + +"No, only that he'd kill you tenderly, so that you wouldn't suffer," +said Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, I know that!" said Jack, softly. "He's too tender-hearted to hurt +anybody. I'm very much inclined to agree to the proposition, but he must +let me choose the manner of the killing. He hasn't had much practice +killing people, and if he were to do it by hitting me on the head with a +stick of wood I'd be likely to wake up with a headache next day; neither +should I like to be smothered because while that doesn't bruise one or +break any bones its awfully stuffy, and if there's one thing I like it +is fresh air." + +"Perhaps he might eat you," suggested Jimmieboy. + +"He isn't big enough to do that comfortably," said Jack, shaking his +head. "He'd have to cut me up and chew me, because his throat isn't +large enough for him to swallow me at one gulp. But I'll tell you what +you can do. You go back to him, and tell him that I'll agree to his +proposition, if he'll have me cooked in a plum-pudding four hundred feet +in circumference. I'm very fond of plum-pudding, and while he is eating +it from the outside I could be eating it from the inside, and, of +course, I shouldn't be burned in the cooking, because in the middle of a +pudding of that size the heat never could reach me." + +"But when he reached you," said Jimmieboy, "you'd have the same trouble +you said you'd have if he ate you up. He'd have to cut you to pieces and +chew you." + +"Ah!" said Jack, "don't you see my point? By the time he reached me he +would have eaten so much plum-pudding that he wouldn't have room for me, +so I'd escape." + +"But, then, you wouldn't be killed," said Jimmieboy. + +"That wouldn't make any difference," said Jack. "We'd stop the story +before I escaped and everybody would think I'd been eaten up, and that's +all he wants. He just wants to seem to win once. He doesn't really care +about killing me dead. Don't you see." + +"Yes, I think I do," said Jimmieboy, "and I'll go back and tell him what +you say." + +"Thank you," said Jack. "And while you are there give him my love, and +tell him I'll be around to kill him as usual after tea." + +All of which Jimmieboy did and the Giant readily agreeing to the +plum-pudding scheme, said good-night to his little visitor, and retired +into the castle, closing the door after him. + +Then Jimmieboy went to bed in a great hurry, because he knew how sleep +made time seem shorter than it really was, and he was very anxious to +have Saturday night come around so that he could see how the new ending +to the story of Jack the Giant Killer worked. + +As yet that Saturday night has not turned up, so that I really cannot +tell you whether or not the arrangement was a success. + + + + +IX. + +JIMMIEBOY AND THE FIREWORKS. + + +There was whispering going on somewhere, and Jimmieboy felt that it was +his duty to find out where it was, who it was that was doing it, and +what it was that was being whispered. It was about an hour after supper +on the evening of July 3d when it all happened. A huge box full of +fire-works had arrived only a few hours before, and Jimmieboy was +somewhat afraid that the whisperings might have come from burglars who, +knowing that there were thirty-five rockets, twenty Roman candles, +colored lights by the dozen, and no end of torpedoes and fire-crackers +and other things in the house, had come to steal them, and, if he could +help himself, Jimmieboy was not going to allow that. So he began to +search about, and in a few minutes he had located the whisperers in the +very room at the foot of the back stairs in which the fire-works were. +His little heart almost stopped beating for a moment when he realized +this. It isn't pleasant to feel that perhaps you will be deprived, after +all, of something you have looked forward to for a whole month, and upon +the very eve of the fulfillment of your dearest hopes at that. + +"I'll have to tell papa about this," he said; and then, realizing that +his papa was not at home, and that his mamma was up stairs trying to +convince his small brother that it would be impossible to get the moon +into the nursery, although it looked much smaller even than the nursery +window, Jimmieboy resolved that he would take the matter in hand +himself. + +"A boygler wouldn't hurt me, and maybe if I talk gruff and keep out of +sight, he'll think I'm papa and run," he said. + +Then he tried his gruff voice, and it really was tremendously +gruff--about as gruff as the bark of a fox-terrier. After he had done +this, he tip-toed softly down the stairs until he stood directly +opposite the door of the room where the fire-works were. + +"Move on, you boygler you!" he cried, just as he thought his father +would have said it. + +The answer was an explosion--not exactly of fire-works, but of mirth. + +"He thinks somebody's trying to steal us," said a funny little voice, +the like of which Jimmieboy had never heard before. + +"How siss-siss-sissingular of him," said another voice that sounded like +a fire-cracker missing fire. + +"He thinks he can fool us by imitating the voice of his +pop-pop-pop-popper," put in a third voice, with a laugh. + +At which Jimmieboy opened the door and looked in, and then he saw whence +the whispering had come, and to say that he was surprised at what he saw +is a too mild way of putting it. He was so astonished that he lost all +control over his joints, and the first thing he knew he was sitting on +the floor. The spectacle had, in fact, knocked him over, as well it +might, for there, walking up and down the floor, swarming over chairs +and tables, playing pranks with each other, and acting in a generally +strange fashion, were the fire-works themselves. It was interesting, and +at the same time alarming, for one or two reckless sky-rockets were +smoking, a lot of foolish little fire-crackers were playing with matches +in one corner, and a number of the great big cannon torpedoes were +balancing themselves on the arms of the gas-fixture, utterly heedless of +the fact that if they were to fall to the floor they would explode and +be done for forever. + +"Hullo, Jimmieboy!" said one of the larger rockets, taking off his funny +little cap at the astonished youngster. "I suppose you've come down to +see us rehearse?" + +"I thought somebody was stealing you, and I came down to frighten them +away," Jimmieboy replied. + +The Rocket laughed. "Nobody can steal us," it said. "If anybody came to +steal us, we'd cry, and get so soaked with tears nobody could get us to +go off, so what good would we be?" + +"Not much, I guess," said Jimmieboy. + +"That's the answer," returned the Rocket. "You seem to be good at +riddles. Let me give you another. What's the difference between a man +who steals a whole wig and a fire-cracker?" + +"I am sure I don't know," said Jimmieboy, still too full of wonderment +to think out an answer to a riddle like that. + +"Why, one goes off with a whole head of hair," said the Rocket, "and the +other goes off only with a bang." + +"That's good," said Jimmieboy. "Make it up yourself?" + +"No," said the Rocket. "I got that out of the magazine." + +"What magazine?" asked Jimmieboy, innocently. + +"The powder-magazine," roared the Rocket, and then the Pin Wheel and +other fire-works danced about, and threw themselves on the floor with +laughter--all except the Torpedoes, which jumped up and down on a soft +plush chair, where they were safe. + +When the laughter over the Rocket's wit had subsided, one of the Roman +Candles called to the Giant Cracker, and asked him to sing a song for +Jimmieboy. + +"I can't sing to-night," said the Cracker. "I'm very busy making ready +my report for to-morrow." + +[Illustration: THE GIANT CRACKER SINGING HIS SONG.] + +Here the Cracker winked at Jimmieboy, as much as to say, "How is that +for a joke?" Whereat Jimmieboy winked back to show that he thought it +wasn't bad; which so pleased the Cracker that he said he guessed, after +all, he would sing his song if the little Crackers would stop playing +until he got through. The little Crackers promised, and the Giant +Cracker sang this song: + +"THE GIANT CRACKER AND THE MANDARIN'S DAUGHTER. + + "He was a Giant Cracker bold, + His name was Wing-Hi-Ee. + He wore a dress of red and gold-- + Was handsome as could be. + His master was a Mandarin, + Who lived in old Shang-Hai, + And had a daughter named Ah Din, + With sweet blue almond eye. + + "Now Wing he loved this Saffron Queen, + And Ah Din she loved him; + But Chinese law came in between + Them with its measures grim. + For you must know, in that far land, + Where dwell the heathen wild, + A Cracker may not win the hand + Of any noble's child. + + "This made their love a hopeless one-- + Alas! that it should be + That anywhere beneath the sun + Exists such misery! + So they resolved, since she could not + Become his cherished bride, + Together they'd seek out some spot + And there they'd suicide. + + "They hastened, weeping, from the town, + Wing-Hi and fair Ah Din, + And on the river-bank sat down + Until the tide came in. + Then Wing-Hi whispered, sitting there, + With tear-drops in his eye, + 'Good-by, Ah Din!' And, in despair, + She answered him, 'Good-by.' + + "And then she grasped a sulphur match; + She lit it on her shoe, + Whereat, with neatness and dispatch, + Wing-Hi she touched it to. + There came a flash, there came a shriek, + A sound surpassing weird, + And Wing-Hi brave and Ah Din meek + In pieces disappeared." + +"Isn't that lovely?" asked the Rocket, his voice husky with emotion. + +"It's very fine," said Jimmieboy. "It's rather sad, though." + +"Yes; but it might have been sadder, you know," said the Giant Cracker. +"She might not have loved him at all; and if she hadn't loved him, he +wouldn't have wasted a match committing suicide for her sake, and then +there wouldn't have been any tragedy, and, of course, no song would have +been written about it. Why, there is no end to the misery there might +have been." + +Here one of the Torpedoes fell off the gas-fixture to the floor, where +he exploded with a loud noise. There was a rush from all sides to see +whether the poor little fellow was done for forever. + +"Send for the doctor," said the Pin Wheel. "I think he can be mended." + +"No, don't," said the injured Torpedo. "I can fix myself up again. Send +for a whisk broom and bring me a parlor match, and I'll be all right." + +"What's the whisk broom for?" asked Jimmieboy, somewhat surprised at the +remedies suggested. + +"Why," said the Torpedo, "if you will sweep me together with the whisk +broom and wrap me up carefully, I'll eat the head off the parlor match, +and I'll be all right again. The match head will give me all the snap I +need, and if you'll wrap me up in the proper way, I'll show you what +noise is to-morrow. You'll think I'm some relation to that Miss Din in +the Giant Cracker's song, unless I'm mistaken, when you hear me explode." + +The Fire-crackers jeered a little at this, because there has always been +more or less jealousy between the Torpedoes and the Fire-crackers, but +the Rocket soon put a stop to their sneers. + +"What's the use of jeering?" he said. "You don't know whether he'll make +much noise or not. The chances are he'll make more noise than a great +many of you Crackers, who are just as likely as not to turn out sissers +in the long-run." + +The Fire crackers were very much abashed by the Rocket's rebuke, and +retired shamefacedly into their various packs, whereupon the Pin Wheel +suggested that the Rocket recite his poem telling the singular story of +Nate and the Rocket. + +"Would you like to hear that story, Jimmieboy?" asked the Rocket. + +"Very much," said Jimmieboy. "The name of it sounds interesting." + +"Well, I'll try to tell it. It's pretty long, and your ears are short; +but we can try it, as the boy observed to the man who said he didn't +think the boy's mouth was large enough to hold four pieces of strawberry +short-cake. So here goes. The real title of the poem is + +"THE DREADFUL FATE OF NAUGHTY NATE. + + "Way back in eighty-two or three-- + I don't recall the date-- + There lived somewhere--'twixt you and me, + I really can't locate + The place exact; say Sangaree-- + A lad; we'll call him Nate. + + "His father was a grocer, or + A banker, or maybe + He kept a thriving candy store, + For all that's known to me. + Perhaps he was the Governor + Of Maine or Floridee. + + "At any rate, he had a dad-- + Or so the story's told; + Most youngsters that I've known have had-- + And Nate's had stacks of gold, + And those who knew him used to add, + He spent it free and bold. + + "If Nate should ask his father for + A dollar or a cent, + His father'd always give him more + Than for to get he went; + And then, before the day was o'er, + Nate always had it spent. + + "Molasses taffy, circus, cake, + Tarts, soda-water, pie, + Hot butter-scotch, or rare beefsteak, + Or silk hats, Nate could buy. + His father'd never at him shake + His head and ask him 'Why?' + + "'For but one thing,' his father cried, + 'You must not spend your store; + Sky-rockets I cannot abide, + So buy them never more. + Let such, I pray, be never spied + Inside of my front door.' + + "But Nate, alas! did not obey + His father's orders wise. + He hied him forth without delay, + Ignoring tarts and pies, + And bought a rocket huge, size A, + 'The Monarch of the Skies.' + + "He clasped it tightly to his breast, + And smiled a smile of glee; + And as the sun sank in the west, + He sat beneath a tree, + And then the rocket he invest- + I-g-a-t-e-d. + + "Alas for Nate! The night was warm; + June-bugs and great fire-flies + Around about his head did swarm; + The mercury did rise; + And then a fine electric storm + Played havoc in the skies. + + "Now if, perchance, it was a fly, + I'm not prepared to say; + Or if 'twas lightning from the sky, + That came along that way; + Or if 'twas only brought on by + The heat of that warm day, + + "I am not certain, but 'tis clear + There came a sudden boom, + And high up in the atmosphere, + Enlightening the gloom, + The rocket flew, a fiery spear, + And Nate, too, I presume. + + "For never since that July day + Has any man seen Nate. + But far off in the Milky Way, + Astronomers do state, + A comet brilliant, so they say, + Doth round about gyrate. + + "It's head's so like small Natty's face, + They think it's surely he, + Aboard that rocket-stick in space, + Still mounting constantly; + And still must mount until no trace + Of it at all we see." + +[Illustration: NATE AS A COMET.] + +"Isn't that the most fearfully awfully terribly horribly horribly +terribly fearful bit of awfulness you ever heard?" queried the Rocket, +when he had finished. + +"It is indeed," said Jimmieboy. "It really makes me feel unhappy, and I +wish you hadn't told it to me." + +"I would not bother about it," said the Rocket; "because really the best +thing about it is that it never happened." + +"Suppose it did happen," said Jimmieboy, after thinking it over for a +minute or two. "Would Nate ever get back home again?" + +"Oh, he might," returned the Rocket. "But not before six or seven +million years, and that would make him late for tea, you know. +By-the-way," the Rocket added, "do you know the best kind of tea to have +on Fourth of July?" + +"No," said Jimmieboy. "What?" + +"R-o-c-k-e-tea," said the Rocket. + +The Pin Wheels laughed so heartily at this that one of them fell over +on a box of Blue Lights and set them off, and the Rocket endeavoring to +put them out was set going himself, and the first thing Jimmieboy knew, +his friend gave a fearful siss, and disappeared up the chimney. The +sparks from the Rocket falling on the Roman Candles started them along, +and three or four balls from them landed on a flower piece which was +soon putting forth the most beautiful fiery roses imaginable, one of +which, as it gave its dying sputter, flew up and landed on the fuse of a +great set piece that was supposed to have a motto on it. Jimmieboy was +almost too frightened to move, so he just sat where he was, and stared +at the set piece until he could read the motto, which was, strange to +say, no motto at all, but simply these words in red, white, and blue +fire, "Wake up, and go to bed right." Whereupon Jimmieboy rubbed his +eyes, and opened them wider than ever to find his papa bending over him, +and saying the very words he had seen on the set piece. + +Probably the reason why his papa was saying this was that Jimmieboy had +been found by him on his return home lying fast asleep, snuggled up in +the corner of the library lounge. + +As for the fire-works, in some way or other they all managed to get +back into the box again in good condition, except the broken torpedo, +which was found in the middle of the floor just where it had fallen. +Which Jimmieboy thinks was very singular. + + + + +X. + +JIMMIEBOY'S PHOTOGRAPH. + + +Jimmieboy had been taken to the photographer's and had posed several +times for the man who made pictures of little boys. One picture showed +how he looked leaning against a picket fence with a tiger skin rug under +his feet. Another showed him in the act of putting his hands into his +pockets, while a third was a miserable attempt to show how he looked +when he couldn't stand still. The last pleased Jimmieboy very much. It +made him laugh and Jimmieboy liked laughing better than anything, +perhaps, excepting custard, which was his idea of real solid bliss. Why +it made him laugh, I do not know, unless it was because in the picture +he was very much blurred and looked something like a mixture of a cloud +and a pin-wheel. + +"I like that one," Jimmieboy said to his mother, when the proof came +home. "Won't you let me have it?" + +"Yes," said his mother. "You can have it. I don't think any one else +wants it." + +So the proof became Jimmieboy's property, and he put it away in his +collection of treasures, which already contained many valuable things, +such as the whistle of a rubber ball, a piece of elastic, and a worn-out +tennis racket. These treasures the boy used to have out two or three +times a day, and the last time he had them out something queer happened. +The blurred little figure in the picture spoke to him and told him +something he didn't forget in a hurry. + +"You think I'm a funny-looking thing don't you?" said the blurred +picture of himself. + +"Yes, I do," said Jimmieboy, "that's why I laugh at you whenever I see +you." + +"Well, I laugh when I see you, too," retorted the picture. "You are just +as funny to look at sometimes as I am." + +"I'm not either," said Jimmieboy. "I don't look like a cloud or a +pin-wheel, and you do." + +"I'm a picture of you, just the same," returned the proof, "and if you +had stood still when the man was taking you, I'd have been all right. +It's awful mean the way little boys have of not standing still when +they are having their pictures taken, and then laughing at the thing +they're responsible for afterward." + +"I didn't mean to be mean," said Jimmieboy. + +"Perhaps not," retorted the picture, "but if it hadn't been for you I'd +have been a lovely picture, and your mamma would have had a nice little +silver frame put around me, and maybe I'd have been standing on your +papa's desk with the inkstand and the mucilage instead of having to live +all my life with a broken whistle and a tennis bat that nobody but you +has any use for." + +Here the picture sighed, and Jimmieboy felt very sorry for it. + +"Boys don't know what a terrible lot of horrid things happen because +they don't stand still sometimes," continued the picture. "I know of +lots of cases where untold misery has come from movey boys." + +"From what?" queried Jimmieboy. + +"Movey boys," replied the picture. "By that I mean boys that don't stand +still when they ought to. Why, I knew of a boy once who wouldn't stand +still and he shook a whole town to pieces." + +"Ho!" jeered Jimmieboy. "I don't believe it." + +"Well, it's so, whether you believe it or not," said the picture. "The +boy's name was Bob, and he lived somewhere, I don't remember where. His +mother told him to stand still and he wouldn't; he just jumped up and +down, and up and down all the time." + +"That may be, but I don't see how he could shake a whole town to +pieces," said Jimmieboy, "unless he was a very heavy boy." + +"He didn't weigh a bit more than you do," answered the picture. "He was +heavy enough when he jumped to shake his nursery though, and the nursery +was heavy enough to shake the house, and the house was heavy enough to +shake the lot, and the lot was heavy enough to shake the street, and the +street shook the whole town, and when the town shook, everybody thought +there was an earthquake, and they all moved away, and took the name of +the town with them, which is why I don't know where it was." + +Jimmieboy was silent. He never knew before that not standing still could +result in such an awful happening. + +"I know another boy, too, who lived in--well, I won't say where, but he +lived there. He broke a fine big mirror in his father's parlor by not +standing still when he was told to." + +"Did he shake it down?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"No, indeed, he didn't," returned the picture. "He just stood in front +of it and got so movey that the mirror couldn't keep up with him, but it +tried to do it so hard that it shook itself to pieces. But that wasn't +anything like as bad as what happened to Jumping Sam. He was the worst I +ever knew. He never would keep still, and it all happened and he never +could unhappen it, so that it's still so to this very day." + +"But you haven't told me what happened yet," said Jimmieboy, very much +interested in Jumping Sam. + +"Well, I will tell you," said the picture, gravely. "And this is it. The +story is a poem, Jimmieboy, and it's called: + +"THE HORRID FATE OF JUMPING SAM. + + "Small Sammy was as fine a lad + As ever you did see; + But one bad habit Sammy had, + A Jumper bold was he. + And, oh! his fate was very sad, + As it was told to me. + + "He never, never, would stand still + In school or on the street; + He'd squirm if he were well or ill, + If on his back or feet. + He'd wriggle on the window-sill, + He'd waggle in his seat. + + "And so it happened one fine day, + When all alone was he, + He got to jumping in a way + That was a sight to see. + He leaped two feet at first, they say, + And then he made it three. + + "Then four, and five, the long day through, + Until he could not stop. + Each jump he jumped much longer grew, + Until he gave a hop + Up in the air a mile or two, + A-twirling like a top. + + "He turned about and tried to jump + Back to his father's door, + But landed by the village pump, + Some twenty miles or more + Beyond it, and an awful bump + He'd got when it was o'er. + + "And still his jumps increased in size, + Until they got so great, + He landed on the railway ties + In some far distant state; + And then he knew 'twould have been wise, + His jumping to abate. + + "But as the years passed slowly by, + His jumping still went on, + Until he leaped from Italy, + As far as Washington. + And he confessed, with heavy eye, + It wasn't any fun. + + "And when, in 1883, + I met him up in Perth, + He wept and said 'good-by' to me, + And jumped around the earth. + And I was saddened much to see + That he knew naught of mirth. + + "Last year in far Allahabad, + Late in the month of June, + I met again this jumping lad-- + 'Twas in the afternoon-- + As he with visage pale and sad + Was jumping to the moon. + + "So all his days, leap after leap, + He takes from morn to night. + He cannot eat, he cannot sleep, + But flies just like a kite, + And all because he would not keep + From jumping when he might. + + "And I believe the moral's true-- + Though shown with little skill-- + That whatsoever you may do, + Be it of good or ill, + Once in a while it may pay you + To practice keeping still." + +A long silence followed the completion of the blurred picture's poem. +For some reason or other it had made Jimmieboy think, and while he was +thinking, wonderful to say, he was keeping very quiet, so that it was +quite evident that the fate of Jumping Sam had had some effect upon +him. Finally, however, the spell was broken, and he began to wiggle just +as he wiggled while his picture was being taken, and then he said: + +"I don't know whether to believe that story or not. I can't see your +face very plainly here. Come over into the light and tell me the poem +all over again, and I can tell by looking in your eye whether it is true +or not." + +The picture made no reply, and Jimmieboy, grasping it firmly in his +hand, went to the window and gazed steadily at it for a minute, but it +was useless. The picture not only refused to speak, but, as the rays of +the setting sun fell full upon it, faded slowly from sight. + +Nevertheless, true story or not, Jimmieboy has practiced standing still +very often since the affair happened, which is a good thing for little +boys to do, so that perhaps the brief life and long poem of the rejected +picture were not wasted after all. + + + + +XI. + +JIMMIEBOY AND THE BLANK-BOOK. + + +[Illustration: "OH! DEAR!"] + +Somebody had sighed deeply, and had said, "Oh dear!" + +What bothered Jimmieboy was to find out who that somebody was. It +couldn't have been mamma, because she had gone out that evening with +papa to take dinner at Uncle Periwinkle's, and for the same reason, +therefore, it could not have been papa that had sighed and said "Oh +dear!" so plainly. Neither was it Moggie, as Jimmieboy called his nurse, +companion, and friend, because Moggie, supposing him to be asleep, had +gone up stairs to her own room to read. It might have been little Russ +if it had only been a sigh that had come to Jimmieboy's ears, for little +Russ was quite old enough to sigh; but as for adding "Oh dear!" that was +quite out of the question, because all little Russ had ever been able +to say was "Bzoo," and, as you may have observed for yourself, people +who can only say "Bzoo" cannot say "Oh dear!" + +It was so mysterious altogether that Jimmieboy sat up straight on his +pillow, and began to wonder if it wouldn't be well for him to get +frightened and cry. The question was decided in favor of a shriek of +terror; but the shriek did not come, because just as Jimmieboy got his +mouth open to utter it the strange somebody sighed again, and said: + +"Aren't you sorry for me, Jimmieboy?" + +"Who are you?" asked Jimmieboy, peering through the darkness, trying to +see who it was that had addressed him. + +"I'm a poor unhappy Blank-book," came the answer. "A Blank-book with no +hope now of ever becoming great. Did you ever feel as if you wanted to +become great, Jimmieboy?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed," returned the boy. "I do yet. I'm going to be a +fireman when I grow up, and drive an engine, and hold a hose, and put +out great configurations, as papa calls 'em." + +"Then you know," returned the Blank-book, "or rather you can imagine, my +awful sorrow when I say that I have aspired to equally lofty honors, +but find myself now condemned to do things I don't like, to devote my +life not to great and noble deeds, but to miserable every-day affairs. +You can easily see how I must feel if you will only try to imagine your +own feelings if, after a life whose every thought and effort had been +directed toward making you the proud driver of a fire-engine, you should +find it necessary to settle down to the humdrum life of a lawyer, all +your hopes destroyed, and the goal toward which you had ever striven +placed far beyond your reach." + +"You didn't want to be a fireman, did you?" asked Jimmieboy, softly. + +"No," said the Blank-book, jumping off the table, and crossing over to +Jimmieboy's crib, into which he climbed, much to the little fellow's +delight. "No, I never wanted to be a fireman, or a policeman, or a car +conductor, because I have always known that those were things I never +could become. No matter how wise and great a Blank-book may be, there is +a limit to his wisdom and his greatness. It sometimes makes us unhappy +to realize this, but after all there is plenty in the world that a +Blank-book can do, and do nobly, without envying others who have to do +far nobler and greater things before they can be considered famous. +Everything we have to do in this world is worth doing well, and +everybody should be content to do the things that are given to his kind +to accomplish. The poker should always try to poke as well as he can, +and not envy the garden hose because the garden hose can sprinkle +flowers, while he can't. The rake should be content to do the best +possible rake's work, and not sigh because he cannot sing 'Annie Rooney' +the way the hand-organ does." + +"Then why do you sigh because of the work they have given you to do?" + +"That's very simple," returned the Blank-book. "I can explain that in a +minute. While I have no right to envy a glue-pot because it can hold +glue and I can't, I have a right to feel hurt and envious when it falls +to the lot of another Blank-book, no better than myself, to become the +medium through which beautiful poems and lovely thoughts are given to +the world, while I am compelled to do work of the meanest kind. + +"It has always been my dream to become the companion of a poet, of a +philosopher, or of a humorist--to be the Blank-book of his heart--to lie +quiet in his pocket until he had thought a thought, and then to be +pulled out of that pocket and to be made the receptacle of that thought. + +"Oh, I have dreamed ambitious dreams, Jimmieboy--ambitious dreams that +must now remain only dreams, and never be real. Once, as I lay with a +thousand others just like me on the shelf of the little stationery shop +where your mother bought me, I dreamed I was sold to a poet--a true +poet. Everywhere he went, went I, and every beautiful line he thought of +was promptly put down upon one of my leaves with a dainty gold pencil, +contact with which was enough to thrill me through and through. + +"Here is one of the things I dreamed he wrote upon my leaves: + + "'What's the use of tears? + What's the use of moping? + What's the use of fears? + Here's to hoping! + + "'Life hath more of joy + Than she hath of weeping. + When grief comes, my boy, + Pleasure's sleeping. + + "'Only sleeping, child; + Thou art not forsaken, + Let thy smiles run wild-- + She'll awaken!' + +"Don't you think that's nice?" queried the Blank-book when he had +finished reciting the poem. + +"Very nice," said Jimmieboy. "And it's very true, too. Tears aren't any +good. Why, they don't even wash your face." + +"I know," returned the Blank-book. "Tears are just like rain clouds. A +sunny smile can drive 'em away like autumn leaves before a whirl-wind." + +"Or a clothes-line full of clothes before an east wind," suggested +Jimmieboy. + +"Yes; or like buckwheat cakes before a hungry school-boy," put in the +Blank-book. "Then that same poet in my dream wrote a verse about his +little boy I rather liked. It went this way: + + "'Of rats and snails and puppy-dogs' tails + Some man has said boys are made; + But he who spoke to be truthful fails, + If 'twas of my boy 'twas said. + + "'For honey, and wine, and sweet sunshine, + And fruits from over the swim, + And everything else that's fair and fine, + Are sure to be found in him. + + "'His kisses are nice and sweet as spice, + His smile is richer than cake-- + Which, if it were known to rats and mice, + The cheeses they would forsake. + + "'His dear little voice is soft and choice, + He giggles all day with glee, + And it makes my heart and soul rejoice, + To think he belongs to me.'" + +"That's first rate," said Jimmieboy. "Only Mother Goose has something +very much like it about little girls." + +"That was just it," returned the Blank-book. "She had been a little girl +herself, and she was too proud to live. If she had been a boy instead of +a girl, it would have been the boy who was made of sugar and spice and +all that's nice." + +"Didn't your dream-poet ever write anything funny in you?" asked +Jimmieboy. "I do love funny poems." + +"Well, I don't know whether some of the things he wrote were funny or +not," returned the Blank-book, scratching his cover with a pencil he +carried in a little loop at his side. "But they were queer. There was +one about a small boy, named Napples, who spent all his time eating +apples, till by some odd mistake he contracted an ache, and now with J. +Ginger he grapples." + +"That's the kind," said Jimmieboy. "I think to some people who never ate +a green apple, or tasted Jamaica ginger, or contracted an ache, it +would be real funny. I don't laugh at it, because I know how solemn +Tommy Napples must have felt. Did you ever have any more like that?" + +"Oh my, yes," returned the Blank-book. "Barrels full. This was another +one--only I don't believe what it says is true: + + "A man living near Navesink, + Eats nothing but thistles and zinc, + With mustard and glue, + And pollywog stew, + Washed down with the best of blue ink.'" + +"That's pretty funny," said Jimmieboy. + +"Is it?" queried the Blank-book, with a sigh. "I'll have to take your +word for it. I can't laugh, because I have nothing to say ha! ha! with, +and even if I could say ha! ha! I don't suppose I'd know when to laugh, +because I don't know a joke when I see one." + +"Really?" asked Jimmieboy, who had never supposed any one could be born +so blind that he could not at least see a joke. + +[Illustration: "EVERYBODY LAUGHED BUT ME."] + +"Really," sighed the Blank-book. "Why, a man came into the store where I +was for sale once, and said he wanted a Blank-book, and the clerk asked +him what for--meaning, of course, did he want an account-book, a diary, +or a copy-book. The man answered, 'To wash windows with, of course,' +and everybody laughed but me. I simply couldn't see the point. Can you?" + +"Why, certainly," said Jimmieboy, a broad smile coming over his lips. +"It was very funny. The point was that people don't wash windows with +Blank-books." + +"What's funny about that?" asked the Blank-book. "It would be a great +deal funnier if people did wash windows with a Blank-book. He might have +said 'to go coasting on,' or 'to sweeten my coffee with,' or 'to send +out to the heathen,' and it would have been just as funny." + +"I guess that's true," said Jimmieboy. "But it was funny just the same." + +"No doubt," returned the Blank-book; "but it seems to me what's funny +depends on the other fellow. You might get off a splendid joke, and if +he hadn't his joke spectacles on he'd think it was nonsense." + +"Oh no," said Jimmieboy. "If he hadn't his joke spectacles on he +wouldn't think it was nonsense. Jokes are nonsense." + +"But you said a moment ago the fun of the Blank-book joke was that you +couldn't wash windows with one. That's a fact, so how could it be +nonsense?" + +"I never thought of it in that way," said Jimmieboy. + +"Ah!" ejaculated the Blank-book. "Now that is really funny, because I +don't see how you could think of it in any other way." + +"I don't see anything funny about that," began Jimmieboy. + +"Oh dear!" sighed the Blank-book. "We never shall agree, except that I +am willing to believe that you know more about nonsense than I do. +Perhaps you can explain this poem to me. I dreamt my poet wrote this on +my twelfth page. It was called 'A Plane Tale:' + + "'I used to be so surly, that + All men avoided me; + But now I am a diplomat, + Of wondrous suavity. + + "'I met a carpenter one night, + Who wore a dotted vest; + And when I asked if that was right, + He told me to go West. + + "'I seized his saw and brandished it, + As fiercely as I could, + And told him, with much show of wit, + I thought he was no good. + + "'At that he looked me in the face, + And said my tone was gruff; + My manner lacked a needed grace, + In every way was rough. + + "'He seized and laid me on a plank, + He gave a little cough; + And then, although my spirits sank, + _He planed me wholly off_! + + "'And ever since that painful night, + When he so treated me, + I've been as polished, smooth a wight, + As any one can be.'" + +"There isn't much sense in that," said Jimmieboy. + +"Well, now, I think there is," said the Blank-book. "There's a moral to +that. Two of 'em. One's mind your own business. If the carpenter wanted +to wear a dotted vest it was nobody's affair. The other moral is, a +little plane speaking goes a great way." + +"Oh, what a joke!" cried Jimmieboy. + +"I didn't make any joke," retorted the Blank-book, his Russia-leather +cover getting red as a beet. + +"Yes, you did, too," returned Jimmieboy. "Plane and plain--don't you +see? P-l-a-n-e and p-l-a-i-n." + +[Illustration: "IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL A JOKE?"] + +"Bah!" said the Blank-book. "Nonsense! That can't be a joke. That's a +coincidence. Is that what you call a joke?" + +"Certainly," replied Jimmieboy. + +"Well, then, I'm not as badly off as I thought. I wanted to be a poet's +book and couldn't, but it is better to be used for a wash-list as I am +than to help funny men to remember stuff like that. I am very grateful +to you, Jimmieboy, for the information. You have made me see that I +might have fared worse than I have fared, and I thank you, and as I hear +your mamma and papa coming up the stairs now, I'll run back to the desk. +Good-night!" + +And the Blank-book kissed Jimmieboy, and scampered over to the desk as +fast as it could, and the next day Jimmieboy begged so hard for it that +his mamma gave it to him for his very own. + +"What shall you do with it now that you have it?" asked mamma. + +"I'm going to save it till I grow up," returned Jimmieboy. "Maybe I'll +be a poet, and I can use it to write poems in." + + + + +XII. + +JIMMIEBOY AND THE COMET. + + +Jimmieboy was thinking very hard. He was also blinking quite as hard +because he was undeniably sleepy. His father had been reading something +to his mamma about a curious thing that lived up in the sky called a +comet. Jimmieboy had never seen a comet, nor indeed before that had he +even heard of one, so of course his ideas as to what it looked like were +rather confused. His father's description of it was clear enough, +perhaps, but nevertheless Jimmieboy found it difficult to conjure up in +his mind any reasonable creature that could in any way resemble a comet. +Finally, however, he made up his mind that it must look like a queer +kind of a dog with nothing but a head and a tail--or perhaps it was a +sort of fiery pollywog. + +At any rate, while he thought and blinked, what should he see peeping +in at him through the window but the comet itself. Jimmieboy knew it was +the comet because the comet told him so afterward, and besides it wore a +placard suspended about its neck which had printed on it in great gold +letters: "I'm the Comet. Come out and take a ride through the sky with +me." + +"Me?" cried Jimmieboy, starting up as soon as he had read the +invitation. + +Immediately the word "Yes" appeared on the placard and Jimmieboy walked +over to the window and stepping right through the glass as though it +were just so much air, found himself seated upon the Comet's back, and +mounting to the sky so fast that his hair stood out behind him like so +many pieces of stiff wire. + +"Are you comfortable?" asked the Comet, after a few minutes. + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy, "only you kind of dazzle my eyes. You are so +bright." + +The Comet appeared to be very much pleased at this remark, for he smiled +so broadly that Jimmieboy could see the two ends of his mouth appear on +either side of the back of his neck. + +"You're right about that," said the Comet. "I'm the brightest thing +there ever was. I'm all the time getting off jokes and things." + +"Are you really?" cried Jimmieboy, delighted. "I am so glad, for I love +jokes and--and things. Get off a joke now, will you?" + +"Certainly," replied the obliging Comet. "You don't know why the moon is +called she, do you?" + +"No," said Jimmieboy. "Why is it?" + +"Because it isn't a sun, so it must be a daughter," said the Comet. +"Isn't that funny?" + +"I guess so," said Jimmieboy, trying to look as if he thought the joke a +good one. "But don't you know anything funnier than that?" + +"Yes," returned the Comet. "What do you think of this: What is the only +thing you can crack without splitting it?" + +"That sounds interesting," said Jimmieboy, "but I'm sure I never could +guess." + +"Why, it's a joke, of course," said the Comet. "You can crack a joke +eight times a day and it's as whole as it ever was when night comes." + +"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "That's funnier than the other, too. I see +now why they call you a Comic." + +"I'm not a Comic," said the Comet, with a laugh at Jimmieboy's mistake. +"I'm a Comet. I end with a T like the days when you have dinner in the +afternoon. They end with a tea, don't they?" + +"That's the best, yet," roared Jimmieboy. "If you give me another like +that I may laugh harder and fall off, so I guess you'd better hadn't." + +"How would you like to hear some of my poetry?" asked the Comet. "I'm a +great writer of poetry, I can tell you. I won a prize once for writing +more poetry in an hour than any other Comet in school." + +"I'm very fond of it," said Jimmieboy. "Specially when it don't make +sense." + +"That's the kind I like, too," agreed the Comet. "I never can understand +the other kind. I've got a queer sort of a head. I can't understand +sense, but nonsense is as clear to me as--well as turtle soup. Ever see +any turtle soup?" + +"No," said Jimmieboy, "but I've seen turtles." + +"Well, turtle soup is a million times clearer than turtles, so maybe you +can get some idea of what I mean." + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I think I do. Nonsense poetry is like a window +to you. You can see through it in a minute." + +"Exactly," said the Comet. "Only nonsense poetry hasn't any glass in it, +so it isn't exactly like a window to me after all." + +"Well, anyhow," put in Jimmieboy. "Let's have some of the poetry." + +"Very good," said the Comet. "Here goes. It's about an animal named the +Speeler, and it's called 'The Speeler's Lament.' + + "Oh, many years ago, + When Jack and Jill were young, + There wandered to and fro, + Along the glistening snow, + A Speeler, much unstrung. + + "I asked the Speeler why + He looked so mortal sad? + He gazed into my eye, + And then he made reply, + In language very bad, + + "'I'm sad,' said he, 'because + A Speeler true I be; + And yet, despite my jaws, + My wings, and beak, and claws, + Despite my manners free, + + "'Despite my feathers fine, + My voice so soft and sweet, + My truly fair outline, + My very handsome spine, + And massive pair of feet, + + "'In all this world of space-- + On foot, on fin, on wing-- + From Nature's top to base, + There never was a trace + Of any such strange thing. + + "'And it does seem to me-- + Indeed it truly does-- + 'Tis dreadful, sir, to be, + As you can plainly see, + A thing that never was!'" + +"What's a Speeler?" said Jimmieboy. + +"It isn't anything. There isn't any such thing as a Speeler and that's +what made this particular Speeler feel so badly," said the Comet. "I +know I'd feel that way myself. It must be dreadful to be something that +isn't. I was sorry after I had written that poem and created the poor +Speeler because it doesn't seem right to create a thing just for the +sake of making it unhappy to please people who like poetry of that +kind." + +"I'm afraid it was a sensible poem," said Jimmieboy. "Because, really, +Mr. Comet, I can't understand it." + +"Well, let me try you on another then, and take away the taste of that +one. How do you like this. It's called 'Wobble Doo, the Squaller.' + + "The Wobble Doo was fond of pie, + He also loved peach jam. + But what most pleased his eagle eye, + Was pickled cakes and ham. + + "But when, perchance, he got no cake, + Jam, ham, or pie at all, + He'd sit upon a garden rake, + And squall, and squall, and squall. + + "And as these _never_ came his way, + This hero of my rhyme, + I really do regret to say, + Was squalling all the time." + +"Your poems are all sad, aren't they?" said Jimmieboy. "Couldn't you +have let Wobble Doo have just a little bit of cake and jam?" + +"No. It was impossible," replied the Comet, sadly, "I couldn't afford +it. I did all I could for him in writing the poem. Seems to me that was +enough. It brought him glory, and glory is harder to get than cakes and +peach jam ever thought of being. Perhaps you'll like this better: + + "Abadee sollaker hollaker moo, + Carraway, sarraway mollaker doo-- + Hobledy, gobbledy, sassafras Sam, + Taramy, faramy, aramy jam." + +"I don't understand it at all," said Jimmieboy. "What language is it +in?" + +"One I made up myself," said the Comet, gleefully. "And it's simply +fine. I call it the Cometoo language. Nobody knows anything about it +except myself, and I haven't mastered it yet--but my! It's the easiest +language in the world to write poetry in. All you have to do is to go +right ahead and make up words to suit yourself, and finding rhyme is no +trouble at all when you do that." + +"But what's the good of it?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, it has plenty of advantages," said the Comet, shaking his head +wisely. "In the first place if you have a language all your own, that +nobody else knows, nobody else can write a poem in it. You have the +whole field to yourself. Just think how great a man would be if he was +the only one to understand English and write poetry in it. He'd get all +the money that ever was paid for English poetry, which would be a +fortune. It would come to at least $800, which is a good deal of money, +considering." + +"Considering what?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Considering what it would bring if wisely invested," said the Comet. +"Did you ever think of what $800 was worth in peanuts, for instance." + +Jimmieboy laughed at the idea of spending $800 in peanuts, and then he +said: "No, I never thought anything about it. What is it worth in +peanuts?" + +"Well," said the Comet, scratching his head with his tail, "it's a very +hard bit of arithmetic, but, I'll try to write it out for you. Peanuts, +you know, cost ten cents a quart." + +"Do they?" said Jimmieboy. "I never bought a whole quart at once. I've +only paid five cents a pint." + +"Well, five cents a pint is English for ten cents a quart," said the +Comet, "and in $800 there are eight thousand ten centses, so that you +could get eight thousand quarts of peanuts for $800. Now every quart of +peanuts holds about fifty peanut shellfuls, so that eight thousand +quarts of peanuts equal four hundred thousand peanuts shellfuls. Each +peanut shell holds two small nuts so that in four hundred thousand of +them there are eight hundred thousand nuts." + +"Phe-e-ew!" whistled Jimmieboy. "What a feast." + +"Yes," said the Comet, "but just you wait. Suppose you ate one of these +nuts a minute, do you know how long it would take you, eating eight +hours a day, to eat up the whole lot?" + +"No," said Jimmieboy, beginning to feel a little awed at the wondrous +possibilities of $800 in peanuts. + +"Four years, six months, three weeks and six days, and you'd have to eat +Sundays to get through it in that time," said the Comet. "In soda water +it would be quite as awful and in peppermint sticks at two cents a foot +it would bring you a stick forty thousand feet, or more than seven +miles long." + +"Isn't $800 wonderful," said Jimmieboy, overcome by the mere thought of +so much peppermint candy. + +"Yes--but really I am much more wonderful when you think of me. You +haven't been on my back more than ten minutes and yet in that time I +have taken you all around the world," said the Comet. + +"All the way!" said Jimmieboy. + +"Yes," said the Comet, stopping suddenly. "Here we are back at your +window again." + +"But I didn't see China, and I wanted to," said the boy. + +"Can't help it," said the Comet. "You had your chance, but you preferred +to talk about poetry and peanuts. It isn't my fault. Off with you, now." + +And then the Comet bucked like a wild Western Broncho, and as Jimmieboy +went over his head through the window and landed plump in his papa's +lap, the queer creature with the fiery tail flew off into space. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +JIMMIEBOY AND JACK FROST--IN WHICH JACK GIVES OFFENCE. + + +Jimmieboy is the proud possessor of a small brother, who, to use one of +Jimmieboy's own expressions, is getting to be a good deal of a man. That +is to say, he is old enough to go out driving all by himself, being +eleven months of age, and quite capable of managing the fiery untamed +nurse that pushes his carriage along the street. Of course, if the nurse +had not been warranted kind and gentle when the baby's mamma went to +find her in the beginning, little Russ would have had to have somebody +go along with him when he went driving--somebody like Jimmieboy, for +instance, to frighten off big dogs and policemen, and to see that the +nurse didn't shy or run away--but as it was, the baby had developed +force of character and self-reliance enough to go out unattended, and, +except on one occasion, he got back again safe and sound. + +This one occasion was early in December, when Nature, having observed +that the great big boys had got through playing football and were +beginning to think of snow-balls, sent word to the Arctic Cold Weather +Company that she desired to have delivered at once five days of low +temperature for general distribution among her friends, which days were +sent through by special messenger, arriving late on the night of +December 1st, giving great satisfaction to everybody, particularly to +those who deal in ice, ear-tabs, and skates. At first Jimmieboy's mamma +thought that Nature was perhaps a little too generous with her frosty +weather, and for two days she kept her two sons, Jimmieboy and Russ, +cooped up in the house, laying in a supply of furnace and log-fire heat +sufficiently large to keep them warm until the third day, when she +thought that they might safely go out. + +[Illustration: JIMMIEBOY PREPARED FOR COLD WEATHER.] + +Upon the third day Jimmieboy's papa said that he imagined the boys were +warm enough to venture out-of-doors, so they were bundled up in +leggings, fur-lined coats, flannel bands, scarfs, silk handkerchiefs, +lamb's-wool rugs, and "arctics," the door was opened, and out they +went. Jimmieboy staid out seven minutes, and then came in again to see +if he could find out why his nose had suddenly changed its color, first +from pink to red, and then from red to blue. He also wished to come in, +he said, because the solid iron driver of his red express wagon had been +"freezed stiff," and he was afraid if he staid out much longer he'd +never thaw out again. Little Russ, on the contrary, lying luxuriously in +his carriage, with no part of him visible save the tip end of his chin, +which was so fat that the coverings would slip off, no matter how hard +mamma and the nurse tried to make them stay on, remained out-of-doors +for two hours, apparently very comfortable. His great blue eyes shone +mirthfully when he came in, and until six o'clock that evening all went +well with him, and then he began to whimper. + +"What's the matter with my baby?" asked Jimmieboy. + +[Illustration: LITTLE RUSS.] + +Little Russ made no reply other than a grimace, which made Jimmieboy +laugh, at which the baby opened his mouth as wide as he could and +shrieked with wrath. + +"I'm inclined to think," said the nurse, as she sought vainly to find +where a possible pin might be creating a disturbance to the baby's +discomfiture--"I'm inclined to think that perhaps he's got a pain +somewhere." + +And then the youthful Russ blinked his eyes, gave another shriek, and +attempted to pout. Now it is a singular way little Russ has of pouting. +He gets it from his mamma, who used to pout in just the same way when +she was a little girl--so grandma says--and it consists entirely of +sticking his chin out as far as he can, while concealing his lower lip +as much as possible beneath the cherry-colored Cupid's bow that acts as +his upper lip. A proceeding of this sort always results in making that +chin the most conspicuous thing in the room, so that it is not +surprising that when little Russ pouted every one in the room should at +once notice that there was a great red spot upon it. + +"Why, the poor little soul has been frost-bitten!" cried mamma, running +for the cold cream--queer thing that, by-the-way, Jimmieboy thought. He +would have put warm cream on a cold sore like that. + +"So he is!" ejaculated papa, with an indignant glance at the chin, which +only caused that fat little feature to pout the more. "Hadn't I better +send for the doctor?" + +"Does dogs frost-bite?" queried Jimmieboy, looking around the room for a +stick with which to beat the dog that had done the biting, if perchance +it was a dog that was responsible. + +"No, indeed," said papa. "It wasn't a dog; it was Jack Frost, and +nobody else. He ought to be muzzled." + +"Who is Jack Frost, papa?" Jimmieboy asked, so much interested in Jack +that he for a moment forgot his suffering small brother. + +"Jack? Why, Jack is a man named Frost, who deals in cold, and he goes +around in winter biting people. He's a sort of ice-man, only he's +retired from trade, and gives things away, to people who don't want 'em. +It would be better if he'd go into business, and sell his favors to +people who do want 'em." + +"Well, he's a naughty man," said Jimmieboy. + +"Yes, indeed, he is," said papa. "Why, he's the man who withered all +your mamma's plants, and painted our nice green lawn white; and then, +when we wanted to dig holes for the fence posts, he came along and made +the ground so hard it took all the edge off the spade, and made the +hired man so tired that he overslept himself that night and let the +furnace go out." + +"Can't somebody catch him, and put him into prism?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, he's been in prism lots of times," said papa, with a laugh at +Jimmieboy's droll word; "but he manages to get out again." + +"Where does he live, papa?" asked the boy. + +"All around in winter. In summer he goes north for his health." + +"And can't anybody ever get rid of him?" + +"No. The only way to do that successfully would be to burn him out, and +so far nobody has ever been able to do it entirely. You can put him out +of your own house; but, if he wants to, he'll stay around the place and +nip your plants, and freeze up your wells, and put a web of ice on your +grass and sidewalks in spite of anything you can do." + +By this time little Russ had quieted down and gone to sleep. The cold +cream, aided by a huge bottleful of the food he liked best, which warmed +up his little heart and various other parts of his being, to which the +world had for a little while seemed bleak and drear, had put him in a +contented frame of mind, and if the smile on his lips meant anything he +had forgotten his woes in dreams of sweet and lovely things. + +It was not so, however, with Jimmieboy, who grew more and more indignant +as he thought of that great lumbering ice-man, Jack Frost, coming along +and biting his dear little brother in that cruel fashion. It was simply +cowardly, he thought. Of course Jimmieboy could understand how any one +might wish to take a bite of something that was as sweet as little Russ +was, and when mosquitoes did it he was not disposed to quarrel with +them, because it was courageous in a minute insect like a mosquito to +risk his life for his sweetmeats, but with Jack Frost it was different. +Why didn't he take a man of his size like papa, for instance, or the +grocer man? He was afraid to--that was it--and so he fastened upon a +poor, helpless little man like Russ, only eleven months old. + +"He ought to be hitted on the head," said Jimmieboy. + +"That wouldn't do any good," said papa. "It wouldn't hurt him a bit. You +couldn't kill him with a hundred ice-picks, and I don't believe even a +steam-drill would lay him up more than a week. What he's afraid of is +heat--only heat, and nothing else. That cracks him all up and melts him, +so that he can't bite anything." + +Then Jimmieboy had his supper and began playing with his toys until +bedtime should come, but all the time his mind was on that cruel Jack +Frost. Something else in the room was thinking about it, too, only +Jimmieboy didn't know it. The little gas-stove that stood guard over by +the fire-place was quite as angry about Jack's behavior as anybody, but +he kept very still until along about eight o'clock when he began to +sputter. + +Jimmieboy stopped pushing his iron engine over the floor, and looked +with heavy eyes at the gas-stove. This was extraordinary behavior for +the stove, and Jimmieboy wondered what was the matter. + +"Say!" whispered the stove, as Jimmieboy looked at him. "Let's get after +that Frost fellow and make him wish he never was born." + +Jimmieboy said nothing to this. He was too much surprised to say +anything--the idea of a gas-stove speaking to him was so absurd. He only +gazed steadfastly at the extraordinary thing in the fire-place, and then +let his head droop down on his arms as he lay on the floor, and in a +moment would have been asleep had not the stove again sputtered. + +"Hi! Jimmieboy!" it cried. "Don't go to sleep. I know where Jack Frost +lives, and we'll get after him and punish him for what he did to little +Russ." + +"How?" asked Jimmieboy, crawling across the room on his hands and knees, +and looking earnestly at this strange gas-stove. + +"Never mind how," returned the Stove. "I'll tell you that later. The +point is, will you go? If you will say the word I'll make all the +arrangements, and we'll set off after everybody has gone to bed. It is a +beautiful moonlight night. Everything is just right for a successful +trip. There's enough snow on the ground for the sleigh to move, and the +river's all frozen over except in the middle. We can skate as far as the +ice goes, and then, if there is no boat, we can put on your papa's +arctics, and walk across the water to the other side. From there it's +only a forty-minute skate to Jack's home. He'll come in about twelve +o'clock, and we'll have him just where we want him. What do you say?" + +"I'll be in bed by the time you want to start," said Jimmieboy. "I'd +like to do it very much, but I don't know how to dress myself, and----" + +"Never mind that," returned the Gas Stove. "Go as you are." + +"In my night-gown? On a cold night like this?" queried the little +fellow, more than ever astonished at the Gas Stove's peculiarities. + +"Why, certainly. I'll see that you are kept warm," returned the stove. +"I've got warmth enough for twenty-six as it is, and if there's only two +of us--why, you see how it'll be. It'll be too warm for two of us." + +"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "I never thought of it that way. I might +sit on your lap if I couldn't keep warm any other way, eh?" + +"I've got a better way than that," said the Stove, dancing a little jig +on the tiles. "I'll get you a pair of gas gloves, some gas ear-tabs, a +patent nose furnace, an overcoat lined with gas-jets that can be lit so +as to keep you warm without burning you, and leggings, shoes, hats, and +everything you need to make you feel as happy and warm as a poached egg +on toast." + +"That'll be splendid," said Jimmieboy. "I'll go, and we'll fix Jack so +that he won't bite any of our people any more, eh?" + +"Yes," said the Gas Stove, delighted at the prospect. + +"Shall we muzzle him?" asked Jimmieboy. But the Gas Stove only winked, +for just then mamma came up stairs from dinner, and as it was +Jimmieboy's nurse's night out, his mamma undressed the little fellow, +and put him in his crib, where he shortly dropped off to sleep. + +[Illustration: THE GAS-STOVE TAPPED HIM LIGHTLY ON THE SHOULDER.] + +In a little while everybody in the house had gone to bed, and when the +last light had been extinguished the door of the room in which Jimmieboy +slept was slowly opened, and the Gas Stove, all his lights turned down +so that nobody could see him in the darkness, tip-toed in, and climbing +upon the side of Jimmieboy's crib tapped him lightly on the shoulder. + +"All ready?" he said, in a low whisper. + +"Yes," answered Jimmieboy, softly, as he arose and got down on the +floor. "How do we go? Down the stairs?" + +"No," replied the Gas Stove. "We'll take the toy balloon up the +chimney." + +Which they at once proceeded to do. + + + + +XIV. + +IN WHICH JIMMIEBOY AND THE GAS STOVE MAKE A START. + + +"Now jump into the sleigh just as quickly as you can, Jimmieboy," said +the Stove, as they issued forth into the cold night air. "Put on that +fur cap and the overcoat, shoes, and gloves, and I'll light 'em up." + +"They won't burn, for sure?" queried Jimmieboy, nervously, for the idea +of wearing clothes heated by gas was a little bit terrifying. + +"Not a bit," said the Stove in reply. "I wouldn't give 'em to you if +they would. Thanks," he added, turning and throwing a ten-cent piece to +a gas boy, who handed him the reins by which the horses were controlled. +"We'll be back about sunrise." + +"Very well," said the boy. "Do you want me turned on all night, sir?" + +"No," answered the Stove. "Gas is expensive these days. You can turn +yourself out right away. Have you fed the horses?" + +"Yes, sir," said the boy. "They've each had four thousand feet by the +meter for supper." + +"Fuel or illuminating?" queried the Stove. + +"Illuminating," replied the boy. + +"Good," said the Stove. "That ought to make them bright. Good-by. Get +up!" + +With this the horses made a spring forward--fiery steeds in very truth, +their outlines in jets, each burning a small flame, standing out like +lines of stars in the sky. + +[Illustration: "THIS IS PRETTY FINE, EH?" SAID THE GAS-STOVE.] + +"This is pretty fine, eh?" said the Gas Stove, with a smile, which, had +any one looked, must have been visible for miles, so light and cheerful +was it. + +"Lovely!" cried Jimmieboy, almost gasping in ecstasy. "I'm just as warm +and comfortable as can be. I didn't know you had a team like this." + +"Ah, my boy," returned the Stove, "there's lots you don't know. For +instance: + + "You don't know why a fire will burn + On hot days merrily; + And when the cold days come, will turn + As cold as I-C-E! + + "You don't know why the puppies bark, + Or why snap-turtles snap; + Or why a horse runs round the park, + Because you say, 'git-ap.' + + "You don't know why a peach has fuzz + Upon its pinky cheek; + Or what the poor Dumb-Crambo does + When he desires to speak. + +"Do you?" + +"No, I don't," said Jimmieboy. "But I should like to very much." + +"So should I," said the Stove. "We're very much alike in a great many +respects, and particularly in those in which we resemble each other." + +The truth of this was so evident that Jimmieboy could think of nothing +to say in answer to it, so he merely observed: "I'm awful hungry." + +This was a favorite remark of his, particularly between meals. + +"So am I," said the Stove. "Let's see what we've got here. Just hold the +reins while I dive down into the lunch basket." + +Jimmieboy took the reins with some fear at first, but when he saw that +they were high up in the air where there was really nothing but a star +or two to run into, and realized that even they were millions of miles +away, he soon got used to it, and was sorry when the Stove resumed +control. + +"There, Jimmieboy," said the Stove, as he drew his hand out of the +basket. "There's a nice hot ginger-snap for you. I think I'll take a +snack of this fuel gas myself." + +"You don't eat gas, do you?" asked the small passenger. + +"I guess I do," ejaculated the Stove, with a smack of his lips. "As our +Gas Poet Laureate said: + + "Oh, kerosene + Is good, I ween, + And so is apple sass; + But bring for me, + Oh, chickadee, + A bowl of fuel gas! + + "Some persons like + The red beefstike, + The cow just dotes on grass-- + But to my mind + No one can find + More toothsome things than gas. + + "And so I say, + Bring me no hay; + No roasted deep-sea bass. + Bring me no pease, + Or fricassees, + If, haply, you have gas." + +"It's easy to eat, too," added the Stove. "In fact, I heard your papa say +we consumed too much of it one day when he'd got his bill from the gas +butcher." + +"Do you chew it?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"No, indeed. We take it in through a pipe. It isn't like soup or meat, +though I sometimes think if people could take soup out of a pipe instead +of from a spoon they'd look handsomer while they were eating. But the +great thing about it is it's always ready, and if it comes cold, all you +have to do is to touch a match to it, and it gets as hot as you could +want." + +"I should think you'd get tired of it," said Jimmieboy. + +"Not at all. There's a great variety in gases. There's fuel gas, +illuminating gas, laughing gas, attagas----" + +"What's that last?" queried Jimmieboy. + +"Attagas? Why, when we want a game dinner, we have attagas. If you will +look it up in the dictionary you will find that it's a sort of +partridge. It's mighty good, too, with a sauce of stewed gasberries, and +a mug or two of gasparillo to wash it down." + +Here Jimmieboy smacked his lips. Gasparillo truly sounded as if it might +be very delightful, though I don't myself believe it is any less bitter +to the taste than some other barks of trees, such as quinine, for +instance. + +"Howdy do?" said the Stove, with a familiar nod to the east of them. + +"Howdy do!" replied Jimmieboy. + +"I wasn't speaking to you," said the Stove, with a laugh. "I was only +nodding to an old friend of mine; he's got a fine place up in the sky +there. His name is Sirius. They call him the dog-star, and all he has to +do is twinkle. You can't see him all the time from your house, but when +you get up as high as this he stands right out and twinkles at you. +Pretty good fellow, Sirius is. I might have had his place, but somehow +or other I prefer to work in-doors and rest nights. Sirius is out all +the time, and has to keep awake all night. But we've got to get down to +the earth again. Here's where we take to the skates." + +Jimmieboy looked over the edge of the sleigh as the horses turned in +response to a movement of the reins, and started down to earth. He saw a +great white river below him, flowing silently along a narrow winding +channel, everything on the border of which seemed bathed in silver +except the middle of the river itself, a strip of forty or fifty feet in +width, which was not frozen over. + +"That's Frostland," whispered the Gas Stove. "We can't get over to the +other side with this team because they are very skittish, and if the +sleigh were overturned and our ammunition lost we should be lost +ourselves. We've got to land directly below where we are now, skate to +the edge of the ice on this bank, row over to the other, and then skate +again directly to the palace. We mustn't let anybody know who we really +are, either, or we may have trouble, and we want to avoid that; for you +know, Jimmieboy, + + "The man who gets along without + A care or bit of strife, + Is certain sure, beyond all doubt, + To lead a happy life." + +"But I can't skate," said Jimmieboy. + +"You can slide, can't you?" asked the Stove. + +"Yes, both ways. Standing up and sitting down." + +"Well, my patent steam skates, operated by gas, will attend to all the +rest if you will only stand up straight," returned the Stove, and the +sleigh dropped lightly down to the earth, and the two crusaders against +Jack Frost alighted. + +"Isn't it beautiful here?" said Jimmieboy, as he looked about him and +saw superb tall trees, their leaves white and glistening in the +moonlight, bound in an icy covering that kept them always as he saw them +then. "And look at the flowers," he added, joyously, as he caught sight +of a bed of rose-bushes, only the flowers were lustrous as silver and of +the same dazzling whiteness. + +"Yes," said the Gas Stove, sadly. "Every time Jack Frost withers a +flower or a plant he brings it here, and it remains forever as you see +them now; he has had the choice of the most beautiful things in the +world. But come, we must hurry. Put on these skates." + +Jimmieboy did as he was told, and then the Stove lit a row of small jets +of gas along the steel runners of the skates, and they grew warm to +Jimmieboy's feet, and in a moment little puffs of steam issued forth +from them, and Jimmieboy began to move, slowly at first, and then more +and more quickly, until he was racing at breakneck speed. + +"Hi, Stovey!" he cried, very much alarmed to find himself speeding off +through this strange country all alone. "Hurry up and catch me, or I'll +be out of sight." + +"Keep on," hallooed the Stove in return. "Don't bother about me. I've +got four feet to your two, and I can go twice as fast as you do. Keep on +straight ahead, and I'll be up with you in a minute--just as soon as I +can get the ammunition and my hose out." + +"I wonder what he's going to do with the hose?" Jimmieboy asked himself. +The Stove was too far behind him for the little skater to ask him. + +[Illustration: "HALT!" CRIED A VOICE IN FRONT.] + +"Halt!" cried a voice in front of Jimmieboy. + +"I can't," gasped the little fellow, very much frightened, for as he +gazed through the darkness to see who it was that addressed him, he +perceived a huge snow man standing directly in his path. + +"You must," cried the Snow Man, opening his mouth and breathing forth an +icy blast that nearly froze the water in Jimmieboy's eyes. "You shall!" +he added, opening his arms wide, so that before he knew it Jimmieboy was +precipitated into them. + +"See?" said the Snow Man. "I can compel y--" + +[Illustration: THE SNOW MAN.] + +The Snow Man never got any further with this remark, for in a moment +Jimmieboy passed straight through him. The heat of Jimmieboy's clothes +had melted a hole through the Snow Man, and as the small skater turned +to look at his adversary he saw him standing there, his head, his sides, +and legs still intact, but from his waist down all the middle part of +him had disappeared. + +"Dear me! How sad," Jimmieboy said. + +"Not at all," responded a voice beside him. "It serves him right; he's +the meanest Snow Man that ever lived. If you hadn't melted him he'd have +turned himself into an avalanche, and then you'd have been buried so +deep in snow and ice you'd never have got out." + +"Who are you?" queried Jimmieboy, with a startled glance in the +direction whence the voice seemed to come. + +"Only what you hear," replied the voice. "I am a voice. Jack Frost froze +the rest of me and carted it away, and left me here for the rest of my +life." + +"What were you?" + +"I cannot remember," said the voice. "I may have been anything you can +think of. You could stand there and call me all the names you chose, and +I couldn't deny that I was any of them. + + "Sometimes I think I may have been + A piece of apple pie; + Perhaps a great and haughty queen, + Perhaps a gaily dressed marine, + In former days was I. + + "I may have been a calendar, + To tell some man the date; + I may have been a railway car, + A rocket or a shooting star, + Or e'en a roller skate. + + "I may have been a jar of jam, + Perhaps a watch and chain; + I may have been a boy named Sam, + An oyster or a toothsome clam, + Perhaps a weather vane. + + "I may have been a pot of ink, + A sloop or schooner yacht; + I may have been the missing link, + But _what_ I was I cannot think-- + For I have quite forgot. + +"All I know is that I was something once; that Jack Frost came along and +caught me and added me to his collection of curiosities, where I have +been ever since. They call me the invisible chatter-box, and tell +visitors that I escaped from the National Vocabulary at Washington." + +"I am very sorry for you," said Jimmieboy, sympathetically. + +"You needn't be," said the voice. "I'm happy! I'm the only curiosity +here that can be impudent to King Jack. I can say what I please, you +know, and there's no way of punishing me; I'm like a newspaper in that +respect. I can go into any home, high or low, say what I please, and +there you are. Nobody can hurt me at all. Oh, it's just immense. I play +all sorts of tricks on Jack, too. I get right up in front of his mouth +and talk ridiculous nonsense, and people think he says it. Why, only the +other night a Snow Man I don't like went in to see Jack, and Jack liked +him tremendously, too, and was really glad to see him; but before the +King had a chance to say a word I hallooed out: 'Get out of here, you +donkey. Go make snow-balls of your head and throw them at yourself;' and +the Snow Man thought Jack said it, and, do you know, he went outside and +did it. He's been laid up ever since." + +"I think that was a very mean thing to do," said Jimmieboy. + +"I'd agree with you if I had any conscience, but alas! they've deprived +me of that too," sighed the voice. "But look out," it added, hastily. +"Throw yourself into that snow-bank or you'll fall into the river." + +Without waiting to think why, Jimmieboy obeyed the voice and threw +himself headlong into a huge snow bank at his side, and glanced +anxiously about him. + +He was indeed, as the voice had said, on the very edge of the ice, and +another yard's advance would have landed him head over heels in the +rushing water. + +"That would have been awful, wouldn't it?" he said to the Stove, as his +little friend came up. + +"Yes, it would," returned the Stove. "It would have put out the lights +in your clothes, and that would have been very awful, for I find we have +come away without any matches. Jump into the boat, now, and row as +straight for the other side as you can." + +Jimmieboy looked about him for a boat, but couldn't see one. + +"There is no boat," he said. + +"Yes, there is--jump!" cried the Stove. + +And Jimmieboy jumped, and, strange to relate, found himself in an +instant seated amidships in an exquisitely light row-boat made entirely +of ice. + +"Row fast, now," said the Stove. "If you don't the boat will melt before +we can get across." + + + + +XV. + +IN THE HEART OF FROSTLAND. + + + "We're afloat! + We're afloat! + In our trim ice-boat; + And we row-- + Yeave ho! + +"I guess I won't sing any more," said the Gas Stove. "It's a hard song +to sing, that is, particularly when you've never heard it before, and +can't think of another rhyme for boat." + +"That's easy enough to find," returned Jimmieboy, pulling at the oars. +"Coat rhymes with boat, and so do note and moat and goat and----" + +"Very true," assented the Stove, "but it wouldn't do to use coat because +we take our coats off when we row. Note is good enough but you don't +have time to write one when you are singing a sea-song. Moat isn't any +good, because nobody'd know whether you meant the moat of a castle, a +sun-moat, or the one in your eye. As for goats, goats don't go well in +poetry. So I guess it's just as well to stop singing right here." + +"How fast we go!" said Jimmieboy. + +"What did you expect?" asked the Stove. "The bottom of this boat is as +slippery as can be, and, of course, going up the river against the +current we get over the water faster than if we were going the other way +because we--er--because we--well because we do." + +"Seems to me," said Jimmieboy, "I'd better turn out some of the gas in +my coat. I'm melting right through the seat here." + +"So am I," returned the Stove, with an anxious glance at the icy craft. +"It won't be more than a minute before I melt my end of the boat all to +pieces. I'm afraid we'll have to take to our arctics after all. I +brought a pair of your father's along, and it's a good thing for us that +he has big feet, for you'll have to get in one and I in the other." + +Just then the stern of the boat melted away, and the Stove, springing up +from his seat and throwing himself into one of the arctics, with his +ammunition and rubber hose, floated off. Jimmieboy had barely time to +get into the other arctic when his end of the ice-boat also gave way, +and a cross-current in the stream catching the arctic whirled it about +and carried it and its little passenger far away from the Stove who +shortly disappeared around a turn in the river, so that Jimmieboy was +left entirely alone in utter ignorance as to where he really was or what +he should do next. Generally Jimmieboy was a very brave little boy, but +he found his present circumstances rather trying. To be floating down a +strange river in a large overshoe, with absolutely no knowledge of the +way home, and a very dim notion only as to how he had managed to get +where he was, was terrifying, and when he realized his position, great +tears fell from Jimmieboy's eyes, freezing into little pearls of ice +before they landed in the bottom of the golosh, where they piled up so +rapidly that the strange craft sank further and further into the water +and would certainty have sunk with their weight had not the voice +Jimmieboy had encountered a little while before come to his rescue. + +[Illustration: "GOLOSH, AHOY!"] + +"Golosh, ahoy!" cried the voice. "Captain! Captain! Lean over the side +and cry in the river or you'll sink your boat." + +The sound of the voice was a great relief to the little sailor who at +once tried to obey the order he had received but found it unnecessary +since his tears immediately dried up. + +"Come out here in the boat with me!" cried Jimmieboy. "I'm awful +lonesome and I don't know what to do." + +"Then there is only one thing you can do," said the voice from a point +directly over the buckle of the arctic. "And that is to sit still and +let time show you. It's a great thing, Jimmieboy, when you don't know +what to do and can't find any one to tell you, to sit down and do +nothing, because if you did something you'd be likely to find out +afterwards that it was the wrong thing. When I was young, in the days +when I was what I used to be, I once read a poem that has lingered with +me ever since. It was called 'Wait and See' and this is the way it went: + + "When you are puzzled what to do, + And no one's nigh to help you out; + You'll find it for the best that you + Should wait until Time gives the clew. + And then your business go about-- + Of this there is no doubt. + + "Just see the cow! She never knows + What's going to happen next, so she + Contented 'mongst the daises goes, + In clover from her head to toes, + From care and trouble ever free-- + She simply waits, you see! + + "The horse, unlike the cow, in fear + Jumps to and fro at maddest rate, + Tears down the street, doth snort and rear, + And knocks the wagon out of gear-- + And just because he does not wait, + His woes accumulate. + + "D. Crockett, famous in the past, + The same sage thought hath briefly wed + To words that must forever last, + Wherever haply they be cast: + 'Be sure you're right, then go ahead,' + "That's what D. Crockett said. + +"Lots in that. If you don't know what to do," continued the voice, "don't +do it." + +"I won't," said Jimmieboy. "But do you know where we are?" + +"Yes," said the voice. "I am here and you are there, and I think if we +stay just as we are forever there is not likely to be any change, so why +repine? We are happy." + +Just then the golosh passed into a huge cavern, whose sides glistened +like silver, and from the roof of which hung millions of beautiful and +at times fantastically shaped icicles. + +"This," said the voice, "is the gateway to the Kingdom of Frostland. At +the far end you will see a troop of ice soldiers standing guard. I doubt +very much if you can get by them, unless you have retained a great deal +of that heat you had. How is it? Are you still lit?" + +"I am," said Jimmieboy. "Just put your hand on my chest and see how hot +it is." + +"Can't do it," returned the voice, "for two reasons. First, I haven't a +hand to do it with, and secondly, if I had, I couldn't see with it. +People don't see with their hands any more than they sing with their +toes; but say, Jimmieboy, wouldn't it be funny if we could do all those +things--eh? What a fine poem this would be if it were only sensible: + + "A singular song having greeted my toes, + I stared till I weakened the sight of my nose + To see what it was, and observed a sweet voice + Come forth from the ears of Lucinda, so choice. + + "I cast a cough-drop in the lovely one's eyes, + Who opened her hands in a tone of surprise, + And remarked, in a way that startled my wife, + 'I never was treated so ill in my life.' + + "Then tears in a torrent coursed over her arms, + And the blush on her teeth much heightened her charms. + As, tossing the cough-drop straight back, with a sneeze, + She smashed the green goggles I wear on my knees." + +Jimmieboy laughed so long and so loudly at this poetical effusion that +he attracted the attention of the guards, who immediately loaded their +guns and began to pepper the invaders with snow-balls. + +"Throw yourself down on your stomach in the toe of the golosh," +whispered the voice, "and they'll never know you are there. Keep +perfectly quiet, and when any questions are asked, even if you are +discovered, let me answer them. I can disguise myself so that they won't +recognize me, and they'll think I'm your voice. In this way I think I +can get you through in safety." + +So Jimmieboy threw himself down in the golosh, and the voice began to +sing. + + "No, no, my dear, + I do not fear + The devastating snow-ball; + When it strikes me, + I shriek with glee, + And eat it like a dough-ball." + +[Illustration: "HALT!" CRIED THE ICE-GUARDS.] + +"Halt!" cried the ice-guards. "Who are you?" + +"I am a haunted overshoe," replied the voice. "I am on the foot of a +phantom which only appears at uncertain hours, and is consequently now +invisible to you. + + "And, so I say, + Oh, fire away, + I fear ye not, icicles; + Howe'er ye shoot, + I can't but hoot, + Your act so greatly tickles." + +"Shall we let it through?" asked the Captain of the guards. + +"I move we do," said one High Private. + +"I move we don't," said another. + +"All in favor of doing one thing or the other say aye," cried the +Captain. + +"Aye!" roared the company. + +"Contrary-minded, no," added the Captain. + +"No!" roared the company. + +"Both motions are carried," said the Captain. "We will now adjourn for +luncheon." + +The overshoe, meanwhile, had floated on down through the gates and was +now out of the guards' sight and Jimmieboy sprang to his feet and looked +about him once more, and what he saw was so beautiful that he sat +speechless with delight. He was now in the heart of Frostland, and +before him loomed the Palace, a marvelously massive pile of richly +carven ice-blocks transparent as glass; and within, seated upon a throne +of surpassing brilliance and beauty, sat King Jack surrounded by his +courtiers, who were singing songs the like of which Jimmieboy never +before had heard. + +"Now remember, Jimmieboy," said the voice, as the overshoe with its +passengers floated softly up to the huge snow-pier that ran out into the +river at this point where they disembarked--"remember I am to do all the +talking. Otherwise you might get into trouble." + +"All right, Voicy," began Jimmieboy, and then there came a terrific +shout from within. + +[Illustration: "WHO COMES HERE?"] + +"Who comes here?" cried King Jack, rising from his throne and pointing +his finger at Jimmieboy. + +"I am a traveling minstrel," Jimmieboy seemed to reply though in reality +it was the kind-hearted voice that said it. "And I have come a thousand +and six miles, eight blocks, fourteen feet, six inches to recite to your +Majesty a poem I have written in honor of your approaching Jubilee." + +"Have I a Jubilee approaching?" roared Jack, turning to his Secretary of +State, who was so startled that his right arm melted. + +"Y--yes, your Majesty," stammered the Secretary, with a low bow. "It is +coming along at the rate of sixty seconds a minute." + +"Why have I not been informed of this before?" roared Jack, casting a +glance at the cowering Secretary that withered the nose straight off +his face. "Don't you know that Jubilees are useful to a man only because +other people give him presents in honor of the event? And here you've +kept me in ignorance of the fact all this time, and the chances are I +won't get a thing;--for I've neglected my relatives dreadfully." + +"Sire," pleaded the Secretary, "all that you say is true, but I have +attended to all that. I have informed your friends that the Jubilee is +coming, and they are all preparing pleasant little surprises for you. We +are going to give your Majesty a surprise party, which is the finest +kind of a party, because you don't have to go home after it is over, and +the guests bring their own fried oysters, and pay all the bills." + +"Ah!" said Jack, melting a little. "You are a good man, after all. I +will raise your salary, and send your children a skating-pond on +Christmas day; but when is this Jubilee to take place?" + +"In eight hundred and forty-seven years," returned the voice, who did +not like the Secretary of State, and wanted to get him in trouble. "On +the eighty-second day of July." + +"What--a--at?" roared the King, glaring at the Secretary. + +"I didn't say a word, sire," cried the unfortunate Secretary. + +"No?" sneered Jack. "I suppose it was I that answered my own question, +eh? That settles you. The idea of my waiting eight hundred and +forty-seven years for a Jubilee that is to take place on an impossible +date! Executioner, take the Secretary of State out to the furnace-room, +and compel him to sit before the fire until there's only enough of him +left to make one snow-ball. Then take that and throw it at the most +decrepit hack-driver in my domain. The humiliation of this delayer of +Jubilees must be complete." + +The Secretary of State was then led weeping away, and Jack, turning to +the awed Jimmieboy, shouted out: + +"Now for the minstrel. If the poem pleaseth our Royal Coolness, the +singer shall have the position made vacant by that unfortunate +snow-drift I have just degraded. Step right up, young fellow, and turn +on the poem." + +"Step up to the foot of the throne and make a bow, and leave the rest to +me," whispered the voice to Jimmieboy. "All you've got to do is to move +your lips and wave your arms. I'll do the talking." + +Jimmieboy did as he was bade. He took up his stand before the throne, +bowed, and the voice began to declaim as Jimmieboy's lips moved, and his +arms began to shoot out, first to the left and then to the right. + +"This poem," said the voice, "is in the language of the Snortuguese, and +has been prepared at great expense for this occasion, fourteen gallons +of ink having been consumed on the first stanza alone, which runs as +follows: + + "Jack Frigidos, + Jack Frigidos, + Oh, what a trope you are! + How you do shine + And ghibeline, + And conjugate afar!" + +"It begins very well, oh, minstrel!" said Jack, with an approving nod. +"The ink was well expended. Mount thee yon table, and from thence +deliver thyself of the remnant of thy rhyme." + +"Thanks," returned the voice; "I will." + +"Get up on the table, Jimmieboy," the voice added, "and we'll finish 'em +off there. Be a little slow about it, for I've got to have time to +compose the rest of the poem." + +So Jimmieboy clambered up the leg of the table, and in a few moments was +ready for the voice to begin, which the voice proceeded to do. + +"I will repeat the first verse, your Majesty, for the sake of +completeness. And here goes: + + "Jack Frigidos, + Jack Frigidos, + Oh, what a trope you are! + How you do shine, + And ghibeline, + And conjugate afar! + + "How debonair + Is thy back hair; + Thy smile how contraband! + Would I could ape + Thy shapely shape, + And arrogate thy hand! + + "That nose of thine, + How superfine! + How pertinent thy chin. + How manifest + The palimpsest + And contour of thy shin! + + "How ormolu + Thy revenue! + How dusk thy silhouette! + How myrtilly + Thy pedigree + Doth grace thine amulet! + + "What man is there, + Ay, anywhere, + What mortal chanticleer, + Can fail to find + Unto his mind + Thy buxom bandolier! + + "Ah, Frigidos! + Jack Frigidos, + In parcel or in keg, + Another like + Thee none can strike + From Dan to Winnipeg." + +Here the voice paused. + +"Is that all?" queried Jack Frost. + +"It is all I have written up to this moment," the voice answered. "Of +course there are seventy or eighty more miles of it, because, as your +Majesty is well aware, it would take many a league of poetry fitly to +commemorate your virtues." + +"Your answer is pleasing unto me," replied the monarch of Frostland, +when the voice had thus spoken. "The office of the Secretary of State is +yours. The salary is not large, but the duties are. They are to consist +mainly of----" + +Here the King was interrupted by a tremendous noise without. Evidently +some one was creating a disturbance, and as Jimmieboy turned to see what +it was, he saw the great ice mountain looming up over the far-distant +horizon melt slowly away and dwindle out of sight; and then messengers, +breathless with haste, rushed in and cried out to the King: + +[Illustration: THE GAS-STOVE DESTROYING FROSTLAND.] + +"We are attacked! we are attacked! A tribe from a far country, commanded +by the Gas Stove, is even now within our boundaries, armed with a +devastating hose, breathing forth fire, by which already has been +destroyed the whole western frontier." + +"What is to be done?" cried Jack, in alarm, and springing to his feet. +"Can we not send a regiment of cold winds out against them, and freeze +them to their very marrows and blow out the gas?" + +"We cannot, sire," returned the messenger, "for the heat is so deadly +that the winds themselves thaw into balmy zephyrs before they reach the +enemy." + +"Not so!" cried the voice from Jimmieboy's lips. "For I will save you if +you will place the matter in my hands." + +"Noble creature!" sobbed Jack, grasping Jimmieboy by the hand. "Save my +kingdom from destruction, and all that you ask of me in the future is +yours." + +And Jimmieboy, promising to help Jack, started out, clad with all the +authority of his high office, to meet the Gas Stove. + + + + +XVI. + +THE END OF THE STORY. + + +AS Jimmieboy proceeded along the icy road he observed that everything +was beginning to thaw, and then, peering as far into the distance as he +could, he saw a great flame burning fiercely and scorching everything +with which it came in contact. It was quite evident that the Gas Stove +had brought with him the most effective ammunition possible for his +purposes. + +"I don't see exactly how he does it," said the newly appointed Secretary +of State, as he ran hurriedly toward the devastating fire. + +"Easy enough," returned the voice. "He has brought along a large +quantity of gas and a garden hose, and he has turned on the gas just as +you would turn on water, lit it, and there you are. There is absolutely +no withstanding him, and unless he can be induced to stop very shortly, +he'll destroy this whole kingdom, and we'll have nothing but a desert +ocean; and I can tell you, Jimmieboy, a desert ocean where there is +nothing but water is worse than a desert desert where there is nothing +but sand." + +"It seems almost a pity to destroy such a beautiful place as this," said +Jimmieboy, looking about him, taking note of the great tall ice-covered +trees and the frost flowers and grasses at the road-side. "But, you +know, Jack Frost bit my little brother, which was very cowardly of him, +and that's why the Gas Stove and I have come here to fight." + +"I think you are wrong there," said the voice. "I don't believe Jack any +more than kissed him; but if he did bite him, it was because he loved +him." + +Jimmieboy had never thought of it in that light before. All he knew was +that whatever Jack Frost had done, it had brought tears to little Russ's +eyes and woe to his heart. + +"It's rather a funny way to show love to bite a person," said Jimmieboy. + +"Just let me ask you a few questions," said the voice. "Do you like +cherries and peaches?" + +"Oh, don't I!" cried Jimmieboy, smacking his lips. "I just dote on 'em!" + +"Then," said the voice, + + "Why do you bite the cherry sweet? + Why in the peach do your teeth meet?" + +"Never thought of it that way," said Jimmieboy. + +"I suppose not," returned the voice. "Are you fond of apples and +gingerbread?" + +"Well, rather!" ejaculated Jimmieboy. + +"Then tell me this," asked the voice: + + "Why do you gnaw the apple red? + Why do you chew your gingerbread?" + +"Because I like 'em," returned Jimmieboy. + + "Why do you crunch your taffy brown? + Why do you nibble your jumble down? + Why do you munch your candy ball? + Why do you chew at all--at all?" + +continued the voice. + +"To make things last longer. 'Tain't proper to gulp 'em all down at +once," answered Jimmieboy. + +"And that's why Jack Frost bit little Russ," asserted the voice. "In the +first place, he loved him. Little Russ was to him as sweet as a cherry +is to you. In the second place, he took a little wee bite, because it +wasn't proper to gulp him all down. To-morrow that bite spot will be +well, and little Russ will be none the worst for it. Now I don't see why +you should want to ruin all this beautiful country just for that. It +isn't a crime to love babies or to eat cherries." + +"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "But Jack Frost has done other things. He +killed a lot of mamma's flowers." + +"No, he didn't," returned the voice. "Your mamma left 'em out-doors all +night, and Jack came along and did just what the bees do. He took all +the sweetness he could find out of 'em, and brought them here, where he +planted them and made them appear like flowers of silver. You see what +the heat down there is doing?" + +Jimmieboy looked, and saw the icy covering melting off the flowers and +trees, and as the silver coating fell away they would wave softly in the +balmy air for a moment, and then wither and crumble away. + +"Isn't that too bad?" he said. + +"It is, indeed," replied the voice. "Those flowers and trees would have +stood and lived on forever in their ice coats--ever fresh, ever happy. +The warmth from the invader's fire gives them one glad mad moment of +ecstasy, and then they wither away, and are lost forever. Is that worth +while, my boy?" + +The voice quivered a little as it uttered these words, and Jimmieboy +felt tears rising in his own eyes too. Jack Frost was not so bad a +fellow, after all, as he had been made out. + +"But he made our hired man's back ache when he went to dig some holes +for the fence posts," said Jimmieboy, who now felt that he should have +some excuse for his presence in Frostland, and on a mission of +destruction. "Was that right of him?" + +"Even if it was his fault, it was right," said the voice. "I don't +believe it was his fault, though. Hired men have a way of having +back-ache when there's lots to do. But supposing Jack did give it to +him. That hired man was taking a spade and scarring Mother Earth with +its sharp edge. Jack Frost gets all that he has from Mother Earth. She +has given him work to do--work that has made him what he is--and it was +his duty to protect her." + +"Well, I don't know what to do," said Jimmieboy, beginning to sob. "I +came here for revenge, and I don't think----" + +"There is only one thing for you to do, be true to those who trust you," +said the voice. "Now who trusts you? Your nurse doesn't--she wouldn't +let you out of her sight. Your papa believes in you, but he never would +have intrusted such a mission as this to your hands; nor would your +mamma or little Russ. On the other hand, Jack Frost has made you +Secretary of State, and you promised to help him in this dreadful +trial--_he trusts you_. As the poem says, + + "E'en though it's sure to take and bust you, + Be ever true to them that trust you." + +"I'll save them," said Jimmieboy. And then he started off on a run down +the road, and ere long stood face to face with the Gas Stove. The latter +immediately threw down his hose, turned off the gas, and clasped +Jimmieboy to his heart. + +"Saved! Saved!" he cried. "I have found you at last. Dear me, how +anxious I have been about you!" And then he burst out in song: + + "But now, O joy? + My averdupoy + Will steadily increase; + For, now you're back, + My woes will pack + Their clothes in their valise, + + "And fly afar, + To the uttermost star + That shines up in the skies, + While you and I + Will warble high + The gleesomest of cries. + + "We'll sing and sing, + And warble and sing, + And warble, and sing, and sing, + And warble and sing, + And sing, sing, sing, + And warble and sing, sing, sing," + +"Come off!" ejaculated the voice. "That's mighty poor poetry for a Stove +that's as glad as you are." + +"Why, Jimmieboy, you pain me," said the Gas Stove, who thought that it +was his little friend that had spoken. "I didn't think you would +criticize my song of happiness that way." + +"I never said a word," said Jimmieboy. "It was my friend the voice, who +helped me when I was in trouble, and----" + +"And by whose efforts," interrupted the voice, "our Jimmieboy here is +now the Right Honorable Jamesboy. Secretary of State to his Majesty the +Emperor of Frostland, Prince of Iceberg, Marquis Thawberry, and Chief +Ice-cream Freezer to all the crowned heads of Europe, Asia, Africa, +Austrilia and New Jersey. I'd advise you to take off your hat, Mr. +Stove, for you are in the presence of a great man." + +"No, no," cried Jimmieboy, as the Gas Stove doffed his iron lid; "don't +take off your hat to me, Stovey. I am all that he says, but I am still +Jimmieboy, and your friend." + +"But what becomes of your war?" queried the Gas Stove, ruefully. "I +can't fight against you, and you are a part of the government." + +"That's a very sensible conclusion," said the voice. "Only I wouldn't +let King Jack know that, or he wouldn't ever let Jimmieboy go away from +here. What you want to do is to make terms that will be satisfactory to +both parties, get Jack Frost to agree to 'em, and there you are. If he +won't agree, the Gas Stove will have to go on with the war until he does +agree." + +"That's the thing to do, I suppose," said the Stove. "What shall I +insist upon, Mr. Secretary?" + +"Well, I think Jack ought to quit biting babies, no matter if he does +love 'em," said Jimmieboy. + +"I insist upon it," said the Gas Stove, firmly. + +"I think, too," said Jimmieboy, "that he ought not to run off with so +many flowers." + +"If you do not agree to that, Mr. Secretary," returned the Stove, "I +shall turn on my canned devastation again." + +"I shall endeavor to secure the King's consent," replied Jimmieboy. +"And, furthermore, he must keep away from the water-pipes in my papa's +house. He froze 'em all up last winter." + +"That is my ultimatum," said the Stove. + +"Your what?" queried Jimmieboy. + +"My last word," explained the Stove. + +"It's long enough to have been a half-dozen of your last words," laughed +the voice. "But is that all you're to agree upon?" + +"I don't know of anything more," said Jimmieboy. + +"Nor I," said the Stove. + +"You're a mean couple," ejaculated the voice, angrily. "If I had my way, +you'd do something for one who has served you when you were in trouble," +he added, addressing Jimmieboy. "Where would you have been if it hadn't +been for--for--well, for a friend of mine?" + +"I don't know who you mean," said Jimmieboy. + +"He wants something for himself," whispered the Gas Stove, "and he is +right." + +"Oh, you don't know who I mean, eh?" sneered the voice. And then he +added: + + "Who saved you from the icy sea. + And brought you through S-A-F-E? + Why, ME! + + "Who thought about that jubilee, + And filled Jack Frost chock up with glee? + Why, ME! + + "Who all your goings did o'ersee, + And got this lofty place for thee? + Why, ME! + +"That's who. Now what are you going to do about it?" + +"He's going back to Jack Frost," said the Gas Stove, "and he is going to +demand that you shall be made Secretary of State in his place, and he is +going to tell Jack that if he ever removes you from that position I +shall return and destroy the country." + +"You are very moderate in your demands," said the voice. "I think King +Jack will be very foolish if he refuses to accede to them, particularly +that one having reference to myself. I do not care for the office, of +course, but since there seems to be a demand for me, I shall accept." + +[Illustration: THE GAS-STOVE IS INTRODUCED TO THE KING.] + +So Jimmieboy, followed by the Gas Stove and the voice, returned to the +palace, and the demands of the Stove were laid before the monarch. + +"I'll agree to 'em all gladly," said he, "save that which forces me to +deprive myself of your valuable services. Was he quite firm about that?" + +"He was!" shouted the voice, before Jimmieboy could speak. + +Here somebody else in the distance seemed to call: "Jimmieboy! Hi! +Jimmieboy!" + +"Shall I accede or stand by you?" asked Jack, taking Jimmieboy by the +hand. + +"You'd better accede," said Jimmieboy, looking around to see who was +calling him, "for I have just heard some one calling me--my papa, I +think--and I guess it's time for me to get up." + +[Illustration: THE GAS-STOVE BURNING MERRILY AND WINKING AT HIM FROM THE +FIREPLACE.] + +What Jack's response to this curious remark would have been no one +knows, for just then a most strange thing took place. Jack Frost and his +palace in an instant faded completely from view, and Jimmieboy in +surprise closed his eyes, rubbed them with both his fists, and then +opened them again, to find himself in his little cot in the nursery, the +gas-stove burning merrily and winking at him from the fire-place, and +the friendly voice, as usual, nowhere to be seen, and now not even to be +heard. + +No sole remnant of the frozen country remained, save a few beautiful +frost pictures on the windows, which, it seemed to Jimmieboy, Jack had +left there in remembrance of the services Jimmieboy had done him; and as +for the frost kiss on little Russ's chin, it had become as invisible as +that far sweeter kiss that mamma had placed upon that very same spot +when she first discovered what Jack had done. + +(THE END.) + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Half-Hours with Jimmieboy, by John Kendrick Bangs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HALF-HOURS WITH JIMMIEBOY *** + +***** This file should be named 39757-8.txt or 39757-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/5/39757/ + +Produced by Annie R. 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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 at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: Half-Hours with Jimmieboy + +Author: John Kendrick Bangs + +Illustrator: Frank Verbeck + Charles Howard Johnson + J. T. Richards + P. Newell + +Release Date: May 22, 2012 [EBook #39757] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HALF-HOURS WITH JIMMIEBOY *** + + + + +Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from +scanned images of public domain material from the Internet +Archive. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 390px;"> +<img src="images/ill_001.jpg" width="390" height="600" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/ill_002.jpg" width="500" height="359" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">"ALL ABOARD FOR SLEEP," SAID JIMMIEBOY.</span> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2><span class="smcap">Half-Hours With Jimmieboy</span>.</h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>JOHN KENDRICK BANGS,</h2> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>"Tiddledywink Tales," "In Camp with a Tin Soldier,"</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>"Tiddledywink Poetry Book," etc.</i></p> + +<h3>ILLUSTRATED BY</h3> + +<h3>FRANK VERBECK, CHARLES HOWARD JOHNSON,</h3> + +<h3>J. T. RICHARDS, P. NEWELL,</h3> + +<h3>AND OTHERS.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 61px;"> +<img src="images/ill_003.jpg" width="61" height="100" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h4>NEW YORK:</h4> + +<h4>R. H. RUSSELL & SON,</h4> + +<h4>MDCCCXCIII.</h4> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h4>TO MY SON,</h4> + +<h4>FRANCIS HYDE BANGS.</h4> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="center">Thanks are due to Messrs. Harper & Bros. for the</p> + +<p class="center">privilege of re-printing several of the</p> + +<p class="center">stories in this book.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="right">1.</td><td align="left"><a href="#I"><span class="smcap">Christmas Eve at Jimmieboy's</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">2.</td><td align="left"><a href="#II"><span class="smcap">The Dwarf and the Dude Giant</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">3.</td><td align="left"><a href="#III"><span class="smcap">Jimmieboy's Dream Poetry</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">4.</td><td align="left"><a href="#IV"><span class="smcap">A Subterranean Mutiny</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">5.</td><td align="left"><a href="#V"><span class="smcap">Jimmieboy in the Library</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">6.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VI"><span class="smcap">Jimmieboy's Snowman</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">7.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VII"><span class="smcap">The Bicyclopædia Bird</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">8.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VIII"><span class="smcap">Giant the Jack Killer</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">9.</td><td align="left"><a href="#IX"><span class="smcap">Jimmieboy and the Fireworks</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">10.</td><td align="left"><a href="#X"><span class="smcap">Jimmieboy's Photograph</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">11.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XI"><span class="smcap">Jimmieboy and the Blank-Book</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">12.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XII"><span class="smcap">Jimmieboy and the Comet</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">13.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XIII"><span class="smcap">Jimmieboy and Jack Frost</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">14.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XIV"><span class="smcap">Jimmieboy and the Gas-Stove</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">15.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XV"><span class="smcap">In the Heart of Frostland</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">16.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XVI"><span class="smcap">The End of the Story</span></a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I">I.</a></h2> + +<h3>CHRISTMAS EVE AT JIMMIEBOY'S.</h3> + +<p>It had been a long and trying day to Jimmieboy, as December 24th usually +is to children of his age, who have great expectations, and are more or +less impatient to have them fulfilled. He had been positively cross at +supper-time because his father had said that Santa Claus had written to +say that a much-desired velocipede could not be got down through the +chimney, and that he thought Jimmieboy would have to wait until the +chimneys had been enlarged, or his papa had built a new house with more +commodious flues.</p> + +<p>"I think it's just too bad," said Jimmieboy, as he climbed into bed an +hour later. "Just because those chimneys are small, I can't have a +philocipede, and I've been gooder than ever for two weeks, just to get +it."</p> + +<p>Then, as his nurse extinguished the lamp and went into the adjoining +room to sew, Jimmieboy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> threw himself back upon his pillow and shed a +tear. The tear crept slowly down over his cheek, and was about to +disappear between his lips and go back again to where it had started +from, when a voice was heard over by the fire-place.</p> + +<p>"Can you get it down?" it said.</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy sat up and peered over toward the spot whence the voice came, +but could see nothing.</p> + +<p>"No. The hind wheels won't go through the chimney-pot, and even if they +would, it wouldn't do any good. The front wheel is twice as big as the +hind ones," said another voice, this one apparently belonging to some +one on the roof. "Can't you get it in through the front door?"</p> + +<p>"What do you take me for—an expressman?" cried the voice at the +fire-place. "I can't leave things that way. It wouldn't be the proper +thing. Can't you get a smaller size through?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but will it fit the boy?" said the voice on the roof.</p> + +<p>"Lower your lantern down here and we'll see. He's asleep over here in a +brass bedstead," replied the other.</p> + +<p>And then Jimmieboy saw a great red lantern appear in the fire-place, and +by its light he noticed a short, ruddy-faced, merry-eyed old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> gentleman, +with a snowy beard and a smile, tip-toeing across the room toward him. +To his delight he recognized him at once as Santa Claus; but he didn't +know whether Santa Claus would like to have him see him or not, so he +closed his eyes as tightly as he could, and pretended to be asleep.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" ejaculated Santa Claus, as he leaned over Jimmieboy's bed, and +tried to get his measure by a glance. "He's almost a man—must be five +years old by this time. Pretty big for a small velocipede; still, I +don't know." Here he scratched his beard and sang:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"If he's too large for it, I think,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">'Twill be too small for him,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Unless he can be got to shrink</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Two inches on each limb."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Then he walked back to the fire-place and called out, "I've measured."</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the result?" queried the voice on the roof.</p> + +<p>"'Nothing,' as the boy said when he was asked what two plus one minus +three amounted to. I can't decide. It will or it won't, and that's all +there is about it."</p> + +<p>"Can't we try it on him?" asked the voice up the chimney.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," returned Santa Claus. "That wouldn't prove anything; but we might +try him on it. Shall I send him up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," came the voice from above, much to Jimmieboy's delight, for he +was quite curious to see what was going on up on the roof, and who it +was that owned the other voice.</p> + +<p>In a moment Jimmieboy found himself in Santa Claus's arms, cuddled up to +the warm fur coat the dear old gentleman wore, in which position he was +carried up through the chimney flue to the roof. Then Jimmieboy peeped +out between his half-opened eyelids, and saw, much to his surprise, that +instead of there being only one Santa Claus, there were two of them.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" he said in astonishment; "I didn't know there were two of +you."</p> + +<p>Both the Santas jumped as if some one had let off a cannon cracker under +their very noses.</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare!" said the one that had carried Jimmieboy up through +the chimney. "We're discovered. Here I've been in this business whole +centuries, and I've never been discovered before."</p> + +<p>"That's so," assented the other. "We know now how America must have felt +when Columbus came sailing in. What'll we do about it?"</p> + +<p>"We'll have to take him into partnership, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> guess," rejoined the first. +"It'll never do in this world not to. Would you like to be one of our +concern, Jimmieboy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed I would," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Well, I say we let him help us this time anyhow," said the roof Santa +Claus. "You're so fat, I'm afraid you can't get down some of these small +chimneys, and Jimmieboy is just about the right size."</p> + +<p>"Good scheme," said the other; "but he isn't dressed for it, you know."</p> + +<p>"He can get a nice black soot down in the factory chimney," said the +roof Santa Claus, with a wink.</p> + +<p>"That's so; and as the factory fires are always going, it will be a nice +warm soot. What do you say, Jimmieboy?" said the other.</p> + +<p>"It's lovely," replied the boy. "But how did there come to be two of +you?"</p> + +<p>"There had to be," said the first Santa Claus Jimmieboy had seen. "The +world is growing so fast that my work has nearly doubled in the last +twenty years, so I had to get an assistant, and he did so well, I took +him into partnership. He's my brother."</p> + +<p>"And is his name Santa Claus, too?" asked Jimmieboy.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh no, indeed. His name is Marmaduke. We call him Marmy for short, and +I can tell you what it is, Jimmieboy,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"He is as fine a fellow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">As ever you did spy;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">He's quite as sweet and mellow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Though not so fat as I."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"And that's a recommendation that any man has a right to be proud of," +said Marmy Claus, patting himself on the back to show how proud he felt. +"But, Santa, we must be off. It would not do for the new firm of Santa, +Marmy, and Jimmie Claus to begin business by being late. We've got to +leave toys in eighteen flat-houses, forty-two hotels, and an orphan +asylum yet."</p> + +<p>"That's a fact," said Santa, jumping into the sleigh and grasping the +reins. "Just help Jimmieboy in here, Marmy, and we'll be off. We can +leave his things here on our way back."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 306px;"> +<img src="images/ill_004.jpg" width="306" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">JIMMIEBOY AND THE BROTHERS CLAUS.</span> +</div> + +<p>Then, before he knew how it happened, Jimmieboy found himself wrapped up +warmly in a great fur coat, with a seal-skin cap on his head, and the +dearest, warmest ear-tabs over his ears, sitting in the middle of the +sleigh between the two huge, jolly-faced, members of the Claus family. +The long lash of the whip snapped in the frosty air, at the sound of +which the reindeer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> sprang forward and dragged the toy-laden cutter off +on its aerial flight.</p> + +<p>At the start Santa drove, and Marmy prepared the toys for the first +little boy they were to visit, handing Jimmieboy a lot of sugar-plums, +to keep him from getting hungry, before he began.</p> + +<p>"This is a poor sick little fellow we are going to see first," he said. +"He wanted a set of choo-choo cars, but we can't give them to him +because the only set we have is for you, Jimmieboy. Your application +came in before his did. I hope he won't be disappointed, though I am +afraid he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> will be. A fish-pond isn't half so much fun as a set of +choo-choo cars."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "But, Mr. Marmy, perhaps, if it's going to +make him feel real bad not to get them—maybe—perhaps you might let him +have the cars. I don't want them too much." This wasn't quite true, but +Jimmieboy, somehow or other, didn't like to think of the little sick boy +waking up on Christmas day and not finding what he wanted. "You know, I +have one engine and a coal car left of my old set, and I guess maybe, +perhaps, I can make them do," he added.</p> + +<p>Marmy gave the little fellow an affectionate squeeze, and said: "Well, +if you really feel that way, maybe we had better leave the cars there. +Eh, Santa?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe, perhaps," said Santa.</p> + +<p>And it so happened; and although he could not tell exactly why, +Jimmieboy felt happier after leaving the cars at the little sick boy's +house than he ever thought he could be.</p> + +<p>"Now, Jimmieboy," said Santa, as Marmy took the reins and they drove off +again, "while Marmy and I are attending to the hotels and flat-houses, +we want you to take that brown bag and go down the chimney of the orphan +asylum, and leave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> one toy for each little child there. There are about +a hundred little orphans to be provided for."</p> + +<p>"What's orphans?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Orphans? Why, they are poor little boys and girls without any papas and +mammas, and they all have to live together in one big house. You'll see +'em fast asleep in their little white cots when you get down the +chimney, and you must be very careful not to wake them up."</p> + +<p>"I'll try not to," said Jimmieboy, softly, a lump growing up in his +throat as he thought of the poor children who had no parents. "And I'll +make sure they all get something, too."</p> + +<p>"That's right," said Marmy. "And here's where they live. You take the +bag now, and we'll let you down easy, and when we get through, we'll +come back for you."</p> + +<p>So Jimmieboy shouldered the bag full of toys, and was lowered through +the chimney into the room where the orphans were sleeping. He was +surprised to find how light the bag was, and he was almost afraid there +would not be enough toys to go around; but there were, as he found out +in a moment. There were more than enough by at least a dozen of the most +beautiful toys he had ever seen—just the very things he would most have +liked to have himself.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I just guess I'll give 'em one of these things apiece, and keep the +extra ones, and maybe perhaps they'll be for me," he said.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 279px;"> +<img src="images/ill_005.jpg" width="279" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">JIMMIEBOY IN THE ORPHAN ASYLUM.</span> +</div> + +<p>So he arranged the toys quietly under the stockings that hung at the +foot of the little white beds, stuffing the stockings themselves with +candies and apples and raisins and other delicious things to eat, and +then sat down by the fire-place to await the return of Santa Claus and +Santa's brother Marmy. As he sat there he looked around the dimly +lighted room, and saw the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> poor thin white faces of the little sleeping +orphans, and his heart stirred with pity for their sad condition. Then +he looked at the bag again, and saw the extra dozen toys that were so +pleasing to him, and he wondered if it would make the orphans happier +next morning if they should wake and find them there, too. At first he +wasn't sure but that the orphans had enough; and then he thought of his +own hamper full of dolls, and dogs, and tin soldiers, and cars, and +blocks, at home, and he tried to imagine how much fun he could get out +of a single toy, and he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that he +could get much.</p> + +<p>"One toy is great fun for an hour," he said to himself, "but for a year, +dear me! I guess I won't keep them, after all. I'll just put them in the +middle of the room, so that they'll find them in the morning, and maybe +perhaps—— Hello!" he added, as he took the extra toys out of the bag; +"they were for me, after all. They've got my name on 'em. Oh, dear! +isn't it love—— I don't know, though. Seems to me I'd better leave +them here, even if they are for me. I can get along without them because +I have a papa to play with, and he's more fun than any toy I ever had; +and mamma's better'n any doll baby<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> or choo-choo car I ever saw. Yes, I +will leave them."</p> + +<p>And the little fellow was true to his purpose. He emptied the bag to the +very last toy, and then, hearing the tinkling bells of Santa's sleigh on +the roof again, he ran to the chimney, and was hauled up by his two new +friends to the roof.</p> + +<p>"Why, you've left everything except the bag!" cried Marmy, as Jimmieboy +climbed into the sleigh.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jimmieboy, with a little sigh; "everything."</p> + +<p>"But the bag had all your things in it, and we haven't a toy or a +sugar-plum left for you," said Santa.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Jimmieboy. "I don't care much. I've had this ride +with you, and—al—together I'm—pret—ty well—satis—fi——"</p> + +<p>Here the little assistant to the Claus brothers, lulled by the jingling +of the bells, fell asleep.</p> + +<p>It was morning when he waked again—Christmas morning—and as he opened +his eyes he found himself back in his little crib, pondering over the +mysterious experiences of the night. His heart was strangely light and +happy even for him, especially when he thought of the little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> orphan +children, and tried to imagine their happiness on waking and finding the +extra toys—his toys—in addition to their own; and as he thought about +it, his eyes wandered to the chimney-place, and an unexpected sight met +his gaze, for there stood the much-wished-for velocipede, and grouped +around it on the floor were a beautiful set of choo-choo cars exactly +like those he had left with the sick boy, and a duplicate of every one +of the extra toys he had left at the asylum for the orphans.</p> + +<p>"They must have been playing a joke on me," he cried, in delighted +tones, as he sprang out of bed and rushed over to where the toys lay. "I +do believe they left them here while I was in the asylum. +The—dear—old—things!"</p> + +<p>And then Jimmieboy was able to measure the delight of the orphan +children and the little sufferer by comparing it with his own; and when +he went to bed that night, he whispered in his mamma's ear that he +didn't know for sure, but he thought that if the orphans only had a papa +and a mamma like his, they would certainly be the happiest little +children in all the world.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="II" id="II">II</a></h2> + +<h3>THE DWARF AND THE DUDE GIANT.</h3> + +<p>The day had not yet dawned, but Jimmieboy was awake—wide awake. So wide +awake was he, indeed, that the small bed in which he had passed the +night was not broad enough by some ten or twelve feet to accommodate the +breadth of his wakefulness, and he had in consequence crawled over into +his father's bed, seated himself as nearly upon his father's neck as was +possible, and was vociferously demanding a story.</p> + +<p>"Oh, wait a little while, Jimmieboy," said his father, wearily. "I'm +sound asleep—can't you see?"</p> + +<p>"Tell a story," said Jimmieboy, poking his thumbs into his father's half +closed eyes.</p> + +<p>The answer was a snore—not a real one, but one of those imitation +snores that fathers of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> boys like Jimmieboy make use of on occasions of +this sort, prompted no doubt by the maker's desire to convince a +persistent enemy to sleep that his cause is hopeless, and of which the +enemy is never to be convinced.</p> + +<p>"Tell a story about a Giant," insisted Jimmieboy, a suggestion of tears +in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," returned the sleepy father, sitting up and, rubbing his eyes +vigorously in a vain effort to get all the sleepiness out of them. "If +you must have it, you must have it, so here goes. Let's see—a story of +a Giant or of a Dwarf?"</p> + +<p>"Both," said Jimmieboy, placidly.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" cried his father. "I wish I'd kept quiet about the Dwarf. +Well, once upon a time there was a Giant."</p> + +<p>"And a Dwarf, too," put in Jimmieboy, who did not intend to be cheated +out of a half of the story.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And a Dwarf, too," said the other with a nod. "The Giant was a +Dude Giant, who cared more for his hats than he did for anything else in +the world. It was quite natural, too, that he should, for he had a finer +chance to show them off than most people have, because he had no less +than four heads, which is very remarkable for a Dude Giant, because +dudes who are not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> giants very rarely have even one head worth +mentioning. Hats were about the only things the Dude Giant cared for at +all. He used to buy every style of head-gear he could find, and it took +almost all of the salary he received at the Museum where he was on +exhibition to pay for them; but he was particularly fond of silk hats. +Of these he had twenty-eight; four for each day of the week, those for +Sunday being especially handsome and costly.</p> + +<p>"Now it happened that in the same exhibition with the Dude Giant there +was a Dwarf named Tiny W. Littlejohn—W standing for Wee, which was his +middle name. He was a very good-natured fellow, Tiny was, and as far as +he knew he hadn't an enemy in the world. He was so very nice that +everybody who came to the exhibition brought him cream cakes, and +picture books, and roller skates, and other beautiful things, and nobody +ever thought of going away without buying his photograph, paying him +twenty-five cents extra for the ones with his autograph on, which his +mother wrote for him. In this way the Dwarf soon grew to be a +millionaire, while the Dude Giant squandered all he had on riotous hats, +and so remained as poor as when he started. For a long time everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +went smoothly at the Exhibition. There were no jealousies or quarrels of +any sort, except between the Glass Eater and the man who made Glass +Steamboats, and that was smoothed over in a very short time by the Glass +Eater saying that the Glass-blower made the finest crystal pies he had +ever tasted. But contentment and peace could not last forever in an +establishment where one attraction was growing richer and richer every +day as the Dwarf was, while another, the Dude Giant, was no better off +than the day he joined the show, and when finally the Dwarf began to +come every morning in a cab of his own, drawn by a magnificent gray +horse with a banged tail, and to dress better even than the proprietor +of the Museum himself, the Dude Giant became very envious, and when the +Dude Giant gets envious he is a very disagreeable person. For instance, +when no one was looking he would make horrible faces at Tiny, contorting +his four mouths and noses and eight cheeks all at once in a very +terrifying manner, and when he'd look cross-eyed at the Dwarf with all +eight of his eyes poor Tiny would get so nervous that he would try to +eat the roller skates and picture books, instead of the cream cakes +people brought him, and on one occasion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> he broke two of his prettiest +teeth doing it, which marred his personal appearance very much.</p> + +<p>"Tiny stood it as long as he could, and then he complained to his +friend, the Whirlwind, about it, and the Whirlwind, who was a very +sensible sort of a fellow, advised him not to mind it. It was only +jealousy, he said, that led the Dude Giant to behave that way, and if +Tiny had not been more successful than Forepate—as the Dude Giant was +called—Forepate wouldn't have been jealous, so that his very jealousy +was an acknowledgment of inferiority. So Tiny made up his mind he +wouldn't pay any attention to the Dude Giant at all, but would go right +ahead minding his own business and making all the money he could.</p> + +<p>"This made Forepate all the more angry, and finally he resolved to get +even with the Dwarf in some other way than by making grimaces at him. +Now, it happened that Forepate's place was over by a window directly +opposite to where the Dwarf sat, and so, to get near enough to Tiny to +put his scheme against him into execution, he complained to the manager +that there was a terrible draft from the window, and added that unless +he could sit on the other side of the room<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> he was certain he'd catch +cold in three of his heads anyhow, if not in all of them.</p> + +<p>"'Very well,' said the manager. 'Where do you wish to sit?'</p> + +<p>"'You might put me next to Littlejohn, over there,' said the head with +red hair.</p> + +<p>"'But,' said the manager, 'what shall we do with that stuffed owl with +the unicorn's horns?'</p> + +<p>"'Put him by the window,' said another of the Dude Giant's heads.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' said the third head. 'No draft in all the world could give a +stuffed owl a cold.'</p> + +<p>"'That's so,' replied the manager. 'We'll make the change right off.'</p> + +<p>"And then the change was made, though Tiny did not like it very much.</p> + +<p>"To disarm all suspicion, the Dude Giant was very affable to the Dwarf +for a whole week, and to see him talking to Tiny no one would have +suspected that he hated him so, which shows how horribly crafty he was. +Finally the hour for his revenge arrived. It was Monday morning, and +Forepate and Tiny had taken their places as usual, when, observing that +no one was looking, Forepate took his biggest beaver hat and put it over +Tiny, completely hiding him from view. Poor Tiny was speechless with +rage,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> and so could not cry out. Forepate kept him under his hat all +day, and whenever any one asked where Littlejohn was, one of his heads +would say, 'Alas! Poor Tiny, he has mysteriously disappeared!' And +another head would shake itself and say 'Somebody must have left the +door open and the wind must have whisked the dear little fellow out into +the cold, cold world.' Then the other two heads would blubber, at which +the Dude Giant would take out his handkerchiefs and wipe his eight eyes +and shake all over as if he were inconsolable, and Tiny, overhearing it +all, grew more and more speechless with indignation.</p> + +<p>"That night, of course, Forepate had to release him, and Tiny hurried +away fairly howling with anger. When he arrived at home he told his +mother how he had been treated and how he had been done out of a whole +day's cream cakes and picture books and roller skates, and she advised +him to go at once to the Whirlwind and confide his woe to him, which he +did.</p> + +<p>"'Forepate ought to be ashamed of himself,' said the Whirlwind, when +Tiny had told his story.</p> + +<p>"'But he never does what he ought to do unless somebody makes him,' said +Tiny, ruefully.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> 'Can't we do something to make him ashamed of himself?'</p> + +<p>"'Well, I'll see,' said the Whirlwind, with a shake of his head that +meant that he intended to do something. 'What does the Dude Giant do +with himself on Sundays?'</p> + +<p>"'Shows off his best hats on Fifth avenue," returned the Dwarf.</p> + +<p>"'Very well then, I have it,' said the Whirlwind. 'Next Sunday, Tiny, +we'll have our revenge on Forepate. You stand on one of the stoops at +the corner of Fifth avenue and Thirty-fourth street at midday, and +you'll see a sight that will make you happy for the rest of your days.'</p> + +<p>"So, on the following Sunday the Dwarf climbed up on one of the front +stoops on Fifth avenue, near Thirty-fourth street, and waited. He hadn't +been there long when he saw Forepate striding down the avenue dressed in +his best clothes, and wearing upon his heads four truly magnificent +beavers, which he had just received from London, and of which he was +justly proud.</p> + +<p>"'I wonder where the Whirlwind is,' thought the Dwarf, looking anxiously +up and down the avenue for his avenger. 'I do hope he won't fail.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hardly were the words out of his mouth when Forepate reached the +crossing of Thirty-fourth street, and just as he stepped from the walk +into the street, bzoo! along came the Whirlwind, and off went Forepate's +treasured hats. One hat flew madly up Fifth avenue. A second rolled +swiftly down Fifth avenue. A third tripped merrily along East +Thirty-fourth street, while the fourth sailed joyously into the air, +struck a lamp-post, and then plunged along West Thirty-fourth street. +And then! Dear me! What a terrible thing happened! It was perfectly +awful—simply dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"Hurry up and tell it," said Jimmieboy, jumping up and down with anxiety +to hear what happened next.</p> + +<p>"Then," said his papa, "when the Dude Giant saw his beloved hats flying +in every direction he howled aloud with every one of his four voices, +and craned each of his necks in the direction in which it's hat had +flown.</p> + +<p>"Then the head with the auburn hair demanded that the Giant should +immediately run up Fifth avenue to recover its lost beaver, and the +giant started, but hardly had he gone a step when the head with the +black hair cried out:</p> + +<p>"'No! Down Fifth avenue after my hat.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Not at all!' shrieked the head without any hair. 'Go east after mine.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, I guess not!' roared the head that had curly hair. 'He's going +west after mine.'</p> + +<p>"Meanwhile the Giant had come to a stand-still. He couldn't run in any +direction until his heads had agreed as to which way he should go, and +all this time the beautiful hats were getting farther and farther away, +and the heads more frantic than ever. For five full minutes they +quarreled thus among themselves, turning now and then to peer weepingly +after their beloved silk hats, and finally, with a supreme effort, each +endeavored to force the Giant in the direction it wished him to go, with +the result that poor Forepate was torn to pieces, and fell dead in the +middle of the street."</p> + +<p>Here papa paused and closed his eyes for a minute.</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" queried Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Yes—I believe that's all. The Dude Giant was dead and the Dwarf was +avenged."</p> + +<p>"And what became of Tiny?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tiny," said his father, "Tiny—he—he laughed so heartily at the +Dude Giant's mishap that he loosened the impediment to his growth,—"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The what?" asked Jimmieboy, to whom words like impediment were rather +strange.</p> + +<p>"Why, the bone that kept him from growing," explained the story teller. +"He loosened that and began to grow again, and inside of two weeks he +was as handsome a six-footer as you ever saw, and as he had made a +million and a half of dollars he resigned from the Exhibition and +settled down in Europe for a number of years, had himself made a Grand +Duke, and then came back to New York and got married, and lived happy +ever after."</p> + +<p>And then, as the getting-up bell rang down stairs, Jimmieboy thanked his +father for the story and went into the nursery to dress for breakfast.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="III" id="III">III.</a></h2> + +<h3>JIMMIEBOY'S DREAM POETRY.</h3> + +<p>If there is anything in the world that Jimmieboy likes better than +custard and choo-choo cars, it is to snuggle down in his papa's lap +about bedtime and pretend to keep awake. It doesn't matter at all how +tired he is, or how late bedtime may on special occasions be delayed, he +is never ready to be undressed and "filed away for the night," as his +Uncle Periwinkle puts it.</p> + +<p>It was just this way the other night. He was as sleepy as he possibly +could be. The sandman had left enough sand in his eyes, or so it seemed +to Jimmieboy, to start a respectable sea-beach, and he really felt as if +all he needed to make a summer resort of himself was a big hotel, a band +of music, and an ocean. But in spite of all this he didn't want to go to +bed, and he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> apparently made up his mind that he wasn't going to +want to go to bed for some time to come; and as his papa was in an +unusually indulgent mood, the little fellow was permitted to nestle up +close under his left arm and sit there on his lap in the library after +dinner, while his mamma read aloud an article in one of the magazines on +the subject of dream poetry.</p> + +<p>It was a very interesting article, Jimmieboy thought. The idea of +anybody's writing poetry while asleep struck him as being very comical, +and he laughed several times in a sleepy sort of way, and then all of a +sudden he thought, "Why, if other people can do it, why can't I?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" he answered—he was quite fond of asking himself questions and +then answering them—"why? Because you can't write at all. You don't +know an H from a D, unless there's a Horse in the picture with the H, +and a Donkey with the D. That's why."</p> + +<p>"True; but that's only when I'm awake."</p> + +<p>"Try it and see," whispered the Pencil in his papa's vest pocket. "I'll +help, and maybe our old friend the Scratch Pad will help too."</p> + +<p>"That's a good idea," said Jimmieboy, taking the Pencil out of his +papa's pocket, and assisting it to climb down to the floor, so that it +could run<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> over to the desk and tell the Scratch Pad it was wanted.</p> + +<p>"Don't you lose my pencil," said papa.</p> + +<p>"No, I won't," replied Jimmieboy, his eyes following the Pencil in its +rather winding course about the room to where the desk stood.</p> + +<p>"I have to keep out of sight, you know, Jimmieboy," the Pencil said, in +a low tone of voice. "Because if I didn't, and your papa saw me walking +off, he'd grab hold of me and put me back in his pocket again."</p> + +<p>Suddenly the Pencil disappeared over by the waste-basket, and then +Jimmieboy heard him calling, in a loud whisper: "Hi! Pad! Paddy! +Pad-dee!"</p> + +<p>"What's wanted?" answered the Pad, crawling over the edge of the desk +and peering down at the Pencil, who was by this time hallooing himself +hoarse.</p> + +<p>"Jimmieboy and I are going to write some dream poetry, and we want you +to help," said the Pencil.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not sleepy," said the Pad.</p> + +<p>"Neither am I," returned the Pencil. "But that needn't make any +difference. Jimmieboy, does the sleeping and dreaming, and you and I do +the rest."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, that's it, eh? Well, then, I don't mind; but—er—how am I ever +going to get down there?" asked the Pad. "It's a pretty big jump."</p> + +<p>"That's so," answered the Pencil. "I wouldn't try jumping. Can't the +Twine help you?"</p> + +<p>"No. He's all used up."</p> + +<p>"Then I have it," said the Pencil. "Put a little mucilage on your back +and slide down. The mucilage will keep you from going too fast."</p> + +<p>"Good scheme," said the Pad, putting the Pencil's suggestion into +practice, and finding that it worked beautifully, even if it did make +him feel uncomfortably sticky.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/ill_006.jpg" width="300" height="265" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">ARM IN ARM THEY TIPTOED SOFTLY ACROSS THE ROOM.</span> +</div> + +<p>And then, arm in arm, they tip-toed softly across the room and climbed +up into Jimmieboy's lap. So quietly did they go that neither Jimmieboy's +mamma, nor his papa noticed them at all, as they might have had the +conspirators been noisy, although mamma was reading and papa's head was +thrown back, so that his eyes rested on the picture moulding.</p> + +<p>"Here we are, Jimmieboy," said the Pad. "Pen here tells me you're going +to try a little dream poetry."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I am, if you two will help."</p> + +<p>"Count on us," said the Pencil. "What do you do first?"</p> + +<p>"I don't exactly know," said Jimmieboy. "But I rather think I take +Pencil in my hand, Pad in my lap, and fall asleep."</p> + +<p>"All right," said the Pad, lying flat on his back. "I'm ready."</p> + +<p>"So am I," put in the Pencil, settling down between two of Jimmieboy's +fingers.</p> + +<p>"All aboard for sleep," said Jimmieboy, with a smile, and then he fell +into a doze. In about two minutes he opened his eyes again, and found +both Pad and Pencil in a great state of excitement.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did I write anything?" asked Jimmieboy, in an excited whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Pad. "You just covered me up with a senseless mass of +words. This isn't any fun."</p> + +<p>"No," said the Pencil. "It's all nonsense. Just see here what you've +got."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 225px;"> +<img src="images/ill_007.jpg" width="225" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">JIMMIEBOY FINDS NOTHING BUT DREAM-WRITING ON THE PAD.</span> +</div> + +<p>Jimmieboy looked anxiously at the Pad, and this is what he saw:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">I seen since,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">memory's wrong,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">They both dressed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">couple walked</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And straightway change</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">upstairs with me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"I think it's</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"If that's the case,"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">catch the early in."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 29em;">to leave the shop,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">for it's pla</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 32em;">Polypop.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">two weeks yesterday."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">haven't uttered</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Oh, Polypop, I</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 31em;">ersnee, "See here,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">He didn't pay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">moon was shining bright.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">To see the</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">Polypop came down</span><br /> +</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dear me!" he said. "Why, that doesn't mean anything, does it?"</p> + +<p>"No. There isn't much in dream poetry, I guess," said the Pad. "I'm +going back home. Good-by."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, don't go," said the Pencil. "Let's try it again—just once more. +Eh?"</p> + +<p>"Very well," returned the Pad, good-naturedly, tearing off one of his +leaves. "Go ahead, Jimmieboy."</p> + +<p>And Jimmieboy dozed off again.</p> + +<p>"Wake up, wake up!" cried the Pencil in about three minutes. "We've got +something this time."</p> + +<p>But they were all disappointed, for, when they looked, all that they +could see was this:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">have not them</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And if my not</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">were in chintz;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">With that the along;</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 31em;">your vest."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">For you to go</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Replied best,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">the Snickersnee,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And tra</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">I hadn't time</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"My reason in;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"I know it," said the</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Since</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">You one small cheer,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 29em;">say,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 21em;">Then quoth the Snick</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">his fee.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And as the</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Snickersnee,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The one night,</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Rubbish!" said the Pad, indignantly. "There's two leaves of myself +wasted now on your old dream poetry. I think that's enough. I'm off. +Good-by."</p> + +<p>"Don't be hasty, Pad," retorted the Pencil. "That's a great deal better +than the other. Why, there's one part there with all the lines beginning +with capitals, and when that happens it's generally a sign that there's +poetry around."</p> + +<p>"There isn't much there, though," said Jimmieboy, a little disappointed +by the result. "I guess Pad's right. We'd better give it up."</p> + +<p>"Not yet," pleaded the Pencil. "There's luck in odd numbers, you know. +Let's try it just once more."</p> + +<p>"Shall we, Jimmieboy?" asked the Pad.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Let's," assented Jimmieboy, as he dropped off to sleep for the +third time.</p> + +<p>This time he must have slept five minutes. When he opened his eyes he +saw the Pencil staring blankly at the Pad, on which was written nothing +more than this curious looking formula:</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="right">2</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">2</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">4</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>"How aggravating!" said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Abominable!" ejaculated the Pad.</p> + +<p>"I believe it's a key to what has gone before," said the Pencil, shaking +his rubber wisely. "Two and two make four—two and two make four. Ah! I +know. You've got to put two and two together to make four. If we put +those two leaves of nonsensical words together, maybe we'll have a poem. +Let's try."</p> + +<p>"It'll use me up, I'm afraid," sighed the Pad.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. It won't take more than a half of you," said the Pencil, +putting the two leaves on which Jimmieboy had first written together.</p> + +<p>"It looks like a poem," he said, when he had fitted the two together. +"Let's see how it reads.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">"I have not seen them since.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And if my memory's not wrong,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">They both were dressed in chintz,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">With that the couple walked along;"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"That doesn't mean a blessed thing," said the Pad.</p> + +<p>"It's nonsense," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Just wait!" said the Pencil, beginning to read again:</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And straightway change your vest."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">For you to go upstairs with me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Replied, "I think it's best</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"If that's the case," the Snickersnee</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And catch the early train."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">I hadn't time to leave the shop</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">"My reason for it's plain;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"I know it," said the Polypop;</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">"Since two weeks yesterday."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">You haven't uttered one small cheer</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Oh, Polypop, I say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Then quoth the Snickersnee, "See here,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">He didn't pay his fee.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And as the moon was shining bright,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">To see the Snickersnee,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The Polypop came down one night</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Ho!" jeered the Pad. "That's elegant poetry, that is. You might get +paid five cents a mile for stuff like that, if you wanted to sell it and +had luck."</p> + +<p>"I don't care," said the Pencil. "It rhymes well."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know what's the matter," said Jimmieboy, gleefully. "Why, of +course it's poetry. Read it upside down, and it's all right. It's dream +poetry, and dreams always go the other way. Why, it's fine. Just +listen:</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"The Polypop came down one night</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">To see the Snickersnee,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And, as the moon was shining bright,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">He didn't pay his fee."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"That is good," said the Pad. "Let me say the next:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"Then, quoth the Snickersnee, 'See here,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Oh, Polypop, I say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">You have not uttered one small cheer</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Since two weeks yesterday.'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"I thought it would come out right," said the Pencil. "The next two +verses are particularly good, too:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"'I know it,' said the Polypop;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">'My reason for it's plain;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">I hadn't time to leave the shop</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And catch the early train.'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"'If that's the case,' the Snickersnee</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Replied, 'I think it's best</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">For you to go upstairs with me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And straightway change your vest.'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Now altogether," cried the Pad, enthusiastically. "One, two, three!" +And then they all recited:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"With that the couple walked along;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">They both were dressed in chintz;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And if my memory's not wrong,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">I have not seen them since."</span><br /> +</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hooray!" cried Jimmieboy, as they finished—so loudly that it nearly +deafened the Pad, which jumped from his lap and scurried back to the +table as fast as it could go.</p> + +<p>"What's that cheer for?" asked papa, looking down into Jimmieboy's face, +and grabbing the Pencil, which was on the point of falling to the floor.</p> + +<p>"It's for Dream Poetry," murmured Jimmieboy, getting drowsy again. "I've +just dreamed a lot. It's on the Pad."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" said papa, with a sly wink at mamma. "Let's get the Pad and +read it."</p> + +<p>The little fellow straightened up and ran across to the desk, and, +grasping the Pad firmly in his hands, handed it to his father to read.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said papa, staring at the leaf before him. "Blank verse."</p> + +<p>"Read it," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"I can't to-night, my boy," he answered. "My eyes are too weak for me to +see dream writing."</p> + +<p>For between you and me that was the only kind of writing there was on +that Pad.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV">IV.</a></h2> + +<h3>A SUBTERRANEAN MUTINY.</h3> + +<p>It seemed rather strange that it should have been left there, and yet +Jimmieboy was glad that in grading his papa's tennis-court the men had +left that bit of flat rock to show up on the surface of the lawn. It had +afforded him no end of pleasure since he had first discovered it. As a +make-believe island in a raging sea of grass, he had often used it to be +cast away upon, but chiefly had he employed it as a vantage ground from +which to watch his father and his father's friends at their games of +tennis. The rock was just about large enough for the boy to sit upon and +pretend that he was umpire, or, as his father said, mascot for his +father's opponents, and it rarely happened that a game of tennis was +played upon the court that was not witnessed by Jimmieboy seated upon +his rocky coigne.</p> + +<p>The strangest experience that Jimmieboy ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> had with this bit of +stone, however, was one warm afternoon last summer. It was at the drowsy +period of the day. The tennis players were indulging in a game, which, +to the little onlooker, was unusually dull, and he was on the point of +starting off in pursuit of something, it mattered not what, so long as +it was interesting enough to keep him awake, when he observed a most +peculiar thing about the flat stone. It had unquestionably become +transparent! Jimmieboy could see through it, and what he saw was of most +unexpected quality.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" he ejaculated, "how very queer. This rock is made of glass."</p> + +<p>Then he peered down through it, and saw a beautiful marble staircase +running down into the earth, at the foot of which was a great door that +looked as though it was made of silver, and the key was of gold. At the +sides of the staircase, hanging upon the walls, were pictures of strange +little men and women, but unlike the men and women in other pictures, +they moved about, and talked, and romped, and seemed to enjoy themselves +hugely. Great pictures were they indeed to Jimmieboy's mind, because +they were constantly changing, like the designs in his kaleidoscope.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I must get down there," he said, softly, to himself. "But how?"</p> + +<p>As he spoke the door at the foot of the steps opened, and a small +creature, for all the world like the goblin in Jimmieboy's fairy book, +poked his head out. The goblin looked all about him, and then turning +his eyes upward until they met those of the boy, he cried out:</p> + +<p>"Hullo! Are you the toy peddler?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Then you are the milk broker, or the potato merchant, and we don't want +any milk or any potatoes."</p> + +<p>The goblin slammed the door when he had said this, and with such a bang +that all the little people in the pictures ran to the edge of the frame +and peered out to see what was the matter. One poor little fellow, who +had been tending sheep in a picture half-way up the stairs, leaned out +so far that he lost his balance and tumbled out head over heels. The +sheep scampered over the hill and disappeared in the background of the +painting.</p> + +<p>"Poor little shepherd boy!" said Jimmieboy. "I hope you are not hurt!"</p> + +<p>The shepherd boy looked up gratefully at the speaker, and said he +wasn't, except in his feelings.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is there any way for me to get in there?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said the shepherd boy. "That is, not all of you. Part of you +can come in."</p> + +<p>"Ho!" said Jimmieboy. "I can't divide myself up."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can," returned the shepherd boy. "It's easy enough, when you +know how, but I suppose you don't know how, not having studied +arithmetic. You can't even add, much less divide."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you can tell me how," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, I can," said the shepherd boy. "The part of you that can +come in is your eye, and your ear, and your voice. All the rest of you +must stay out."</p> + +<p>"But how do I get 'em in?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"They are in now," said the other. "You can see me, you can hear me, and +I can hear you."</p> + +<p>"But I can't see what's beyond that door."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we'll fix that," said the little shepherd. "I'll knock on the door, +and when it is opened you can tell the goblin that you want to see what +he's got, and he'll show it all to you if you tell him that your father +is the man who didn't blast the rock out."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>The shepherd boy then went softly down the stairs, knocked on the door, +and before it was opened had flown back to his duties in the picture. +Then, as he had intimated, the goblin opened the door again, and poking +his head out as before, cried:</p> + +<p>"Is that you, milk broker?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Jimmieboy. "I am the son of the man who didn't blast away +the flat rock, and my eye and my ear and my voice want to come in."</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly," said the goblin, throwing the door wide open. "I +didn't know you were you. Let 'em walk right in."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy was about to say that he didn't know how his eye or his ear or +his voice could walk anywhere, but he was prevented from so doing by the +sudden disappearance of the staircase, and the substitution therefor of +a huge room, the splendor of which was so great that it for a moment +dazzled his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Who comes here?" said a voice in the corner of the room.</p> + +<p>"The eye and the ear and the voice of the son of the man who did not +blast the flat stone," observed the goblin, and then Jimmieboy +perceived, seated upon a lustrous golden throne,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> a shriveled-up dwarf, +who looked as if he might be a thousand years old, but who, to judge +from the crown he wore upon his head, was a king.</p> + +<p>The dwarf was clad in garments of the richest texture, and his person +was luminous with jewels of the rarest sort. As the goblin announced the +visitor the king rose up, and descending from the throne, made a courtly +bow to Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Thrice welcome, O son of the man who did not blast the flat rock," he +said. "It is only fitting that one who owes so much to the father should +welcome the eye and the ear and the voice of the son, for know, O boy, +that I am the lord of the Undergroundies whose kingdom would have been +shattered but for your father's kindly act in sparing it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that blasting the rock would have spoiled all this," said +Jimmieboy's voice, as his eye took in the royal magnificence of the +place, while to his ears came strains of soft and sweet music. "It would +have been dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"Much more dreadful than you imagine," replied the little king. "It +would have worked damage that a life-time could not have repaired."</p> + +<p>Then the king turned to a tall, pale creature in black who sat writing +at a mahogany table in one corner of the throne room, and commanded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> him +to recite into Jimmieboy's ear how dreadful it would have been.</p> + +<p>"Compose, O laureate," he said to the tall, pale creature, "compose a +song in which the dire effects of such a blast are fully set forth."</p> + +<p>The laureate rose from his seat, and bowing low before the king and +Jimmieboy's eye, began his song, which ran in this wise:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"A half a pound of dynamite</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Set in that smooth, flat stone.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Our palace would quite out of sight</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Most certainly have blown.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"It would have blown our window-panes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">To high Gibraltar's ledge,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And all our streets and country lanes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">It would have set on edge.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"It would have knocked our royal king</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">As far up as the moon;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Beyond the reach of anything—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Beyond the best balloon.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"It would have taken all our pears,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Our candy and our toys,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And hurled them where the polar bears</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Indulge in horrid noise.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"It would have spoiled the music-box,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And ruined all our books—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Knocked holes in all our woolen socks,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 22em;">And ruined thus their looks.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"'T would have destroyed our chandeliers,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">To dough turned all our pie;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And, worst of all, my little dears,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">It would have injured I."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Is that dreadful enough?" asked the laureate, turning to the king.</p> + +<p>"It suits me," said the king. "But perhaps our friend Jimmieboy would +like to have it made a little more dreadful."</p> + +<p>"In that case," said the laureate, "I can compose a few more verses in +which the blast makes the tennis-court over us cave in and bury all the +cake and jam we have in the larder, or if he thinks that too much to +sacrifice, and would like a little pleasure mixed in with the +terribleness, the cod-liver oil bottle might be destroyed."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't spoil the cake and jam," said Jimmieboy's voice, in reply to +this. "But the cod-liver oil might go."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the laureate, and then he bowed low again and sang:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"But there is balm for our annoy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">For next the blast doth spoil</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Six hundred quarts—O joy! O joy!—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Of vile cod-liver oil."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"I should think you would have liked that," said Jimmieboy's voice.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I would have," said the king, "because you know the law of this country +requires the king to consume a bottle of cod-liver oil every day, and if +the bottles were all broken, perhaps the law, too, would have been +crushed out of existence. But, after all, I'd rather be king with +cod-liver oil than have my kingdom ruined and do without it. How would +you like to see our gardens?"</p> + +<p>"Very much," said Jimmieboy. "I'm fond of flowers."</p> + +<p>The king laughed.</p> + +<p>"What a droll idea," he said, turning to the laureate. "The idea of +flowers growing in gardens! Write me a rhyme on the drollness of the +idea."</p> + +<p>The laureate sighed. It was evident that he was getting tired of +composing verses to order.</p> + +<p>"I hear and obey," he replied, shortly, and then he recited as follows:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"To think of wasting: any time</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">In raising flowers, I think,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Is worse than writing nonsense-rhyme,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Or frying purple ink.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"It's queerer really than the act</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Of painting sword-fish green;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Or sailing down a cataract</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 22em;">To please a magazine.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"Indeed, it really seems to me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Who now am very old,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The drollest bit of drollery</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">That ever has been drolled."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"But what do you raise in your gardens?" asked Jimmieboy, as the +laureate completed his composition.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, of course," said the king. "What's a garden for, anyhow? +Pleasure, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jimmieboy's voice, "but——"</p> + +<p>"There isn't any but about it," said the king. "If a garden is for +pleasure it must not be worked in. Business and pleasure are two very +different things, and you cannot raise flowers without working."</p> + +<p>"But how do you get pleasure out of a garden when you don't raise +anything in it?"</p> + +<p>"Aren't you dull!" ejaculated the king. "Write me a quatrain on his +dullness, O laureate."</p> + +<p>"Confound his dullness!" muttered the laureate. "I'm rapidly wearing +out, poetizing about this boy." Then he added, aloud: "Certainly, your +majesty. Here it is:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"He is the very dullest lad</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">I've seen in all my life;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">For dullness he is quite as bad</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">As any oyster-knife."</span><br /> +</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is that all?" asked the king, with a frown.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid four lines is as many as I can squeeze into a quatrain," +said the laureate, returning the frown with interest.</p> + +<p>"Then tell this young man's ear, sirrah, how it comes that we get +pleasure out of a garden in which nothing grows."</p> + +<p>"If I must—I suppose I must," growled the laureate; and then he +recited:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"The plan is thus, O little wit,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">You'll see it in a minute;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">We get our pleasures out of it,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Because there's none within it."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"That is very poor poetry, Laury!" snapped the king.</p> + +<p>"If you don't like it, don't take it," retorted the laureate. "I'm tired +of this business, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"And what, pray," cried the king, striding angrily forward to the +mutinous poet, "what are you going to do about it?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to get up a revolution," retorted the laureate, shaking his +quill pen fiercely at the king. "If I go to the people to-morrow, and +promise not to write any more poetry, they'll all be so grateful they'll +make me king, and set you to work wheeling coal in the mines for the +mortals."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>The king's face grew so dark with anger as the laureate spoke that +Jimmieboy's eye could hardly see two inches before itself, and in haste +the little fellow withdrew it from the scene. What happened next he +never knew, but that missiles were thrown by the quarreling king and +poet he was certain, for there was a tremendous shout, and something +just tipped the end of his ear and went whizzing by, and rubbing his +eyes, the boy looked about him, and discovered that he was still lying +face downward upon the flat rock, but it was no longer transparent.</p> + +<p>Off in the bushes directly back of him was his father, looking for a +tennis ball. This, some people say, is the object that whizzed past +Jimmieboy's ear, but to this day the little fellow believes that it was +nothing less than the king's crown, which that worthy monarch had hurled +at the laureate, that did this.</p> + +<p>For my part I take sides with neither, for, as a matter of fact, I know +nothing about it.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="V" id="V">V.</a></h2> + +<h3>JIMMIEBOY IN THE LIBRARY.</h3> + +<p>"I'm going to sit in this comfor'ble arm-chair by the fire," said +Jimmieboy, climbing up into the capacious easy-chair in his father's +library, and settling down upon its soft cushioned seat. "I've had my +supper, and it was all of cold things, and I think I ought to get 'em +warmed up before I go to bed."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said his papa. "Only be careful, and keep your feet awake. +It wouldn't be comfortable if your feet should go to sleep just about +the time your mamma wanted you to go to bed. I'd have to carry you up +stairs, if that should happen, and the doctor says if I carry you much +longer I'll have a back like a dromedary."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that would be lovely!" said Jimmieboy. "I'd just like to see you +with two humps on your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> back—one for me, and one for my little +brother."</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" said a gruff voice at Jimmieboy's side—"Dear me! The idea of +a boy of your age, with two sets of alphabet picture blocks and a +dictionary right in the house, not knowing that a dromedary has only one +hump! Ridiculous! Next thing you'll be trying to say that the one-eyed +catteraugus has two eyes."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy leaned over the arm of the chair to see who it could be that +spoke. It wasn't his father, that much was certain, because his father +had often said that it wasn't possible to do more than three things at +once, and he was now doing that many—smoking a cigar, reading a book, +and playing with the locket on the end of his watch-chain.</p> + +<p>"Who are you, anyhow?" said Jimmieboy, as he peered over the arm, and +saw nothing but the Dictionary.</p> + +<p>"I'm myself—that's who," was the answer, and then Jimmieboy was +interested to see that it was nothing less than the Dictionary itself +that had addressed him. "You ought to be more careful about the way you +talk," added the Dictionary. "Your diction is airy without being +dictionary, if you know what that means, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> you don't, as the Rose +remarked to the Cauliflower, when the Cauliflower said he'd be a finer +Rose than the Rose if he smelled as sweet."</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry," Jimmieboy replied, meekly, "I forgot that the +dromedary only had one hump."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you'd know a dromedary from a milk dairy if they both +stood before you," retorted the Dictionary. "Now would you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I would," said Jimmieboy. "The milk dairy would have cream +in bottles in its windows, and the dromedary wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you don't know why!" sang the Dictionary. "You don't even begin +to know why the dromedary wouldn't have cream in bottles in its +windows."</p> + +<p>"No," said Jimmieboy, "I don't. Why wouldn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Because he has no windows," laughed the Dictionary; "and between you +and me, that's one of the respects in which the dromedary is like a +base-drum—there isn't a solitary window in either of 'em."</p> + +<p>"You know a terrible lot, don't you?" said Jimmieboy, patronizingly.</p> + +<p>"Terrible isn't the word. I'm simply hideously learned," said the +Dictionary. "Why, I've been called a vocabulary, I know so many words."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wish you'd tell me all you know," said Jimmieboy, resting his elbows +on the arms of the chair, and putting his chin on the palms of his two +hands. "I'd like to know more than papa does—just for once. Do you know +enough to tell me anything he doesn't know?"</p> + +<p>"Do I?" laughed the Dictionary. "Well, don't I? Rather. Why, I'm telling +him things all the time. He came and asked me the other night what +raucous meant, and how to spell macrobiotic."</p> + +<p>"And did you really know?" asked Jimmieboy, full of admiration for this +wonderful creature.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and a good deal more besides. Why, if he had asked me, I could +have told him what a zygomatic zoophagan is; but he never asked me. +Queer, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "What is one of those things?"</p> + +<p>"A zygomatic zoophagan? Why that's a—er—let me see," said the +Dictionary, turning over his leaves. "I like to search myself pretty +thoroughly before I commit myself to a definition. A zygomatic zoophagan +is a sort of cheeky animal that eats other animals. You are one, though +I wouldn't brag about it if I were you. You are an animal, and at times +a very cheeky<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> animal, and I've seen you eat beef. That's what makes you +a zygomatic zoophagan."</p> + +<p>"Do I bite?" asked Jimmieboy, a little afraid of himself since he had +learned what a fearful creature he was.</p> + +<p>"Only at dinner-time, and unless you are very careless about it and eat +too hastily you need not be afraid. Very few zygomatic zoophagans ever +bite themselves. In fact, it never happened really but once that I know +of. That was the time the zoophagan got the best of the eight-winged +tallahassee. Ever hear about that?"</p> + +<p>"No, I never did," said Jimmieboy. "How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"This way," said the Dictionary, as he stood up and made a bow to +Jimmieboy. And then he recited these lines:</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/ill_008.jpg" width="500" height="292" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE CALIPEE AND THE ZOOPHAGAN.</span> +</div> + +<h4>"THE CALIPEE AND THE ZOOPHAGAN."</h4> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"The yellow-faced Zoophagan</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Was strolling near the sea,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">When from the depths of ocean</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Sprang forth that dread amp-hib-ian,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">The mawkish Calipee.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"The Tallahassee bird sometimes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">The Calipee is called.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">His eyes are round and big as dimes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He has eight wings, composes rhymes,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">His head is very bald.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Now if there are two creatures in</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">This world who disagree—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Two creatures full of woe and sin—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">They are the Zo-oph, pale and thin,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And that bad Calipee.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Whene'er they meet they're sure to fight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">No matter where they are;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Nor do they stop by day or night,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Till one is beaten out of sight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Or safety seeks afar.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"And, sad to say, the Calipee</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Is stronger of the two;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And so he'd won the victory</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">At all times from his enemy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">The slight and slender Zoo.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"But this time it went otherwise,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">For, so the story goes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">As yonder sun set in the skies,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The Calipee, to his surprise,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Was whacked square on the nose.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Which is the fatal, mortal part</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Of all the Calipees;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Much more important than the heart,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">For life is certain to depart</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">When Cali cannot sneeze.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"The world, surprised, asked 'How was it?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">How did he do it so?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Where did the Zoo get so much wit?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">How did he learn so well to hit</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">So fatally his foe?'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"''Twas but his strategy,' then cried</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">The friends of little Zoo;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">'As Cali plunged, our hero shied,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Ran twenty feet off to one side,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And bit himself in two.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'And then, you see, the Calipee</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Was certainly undone;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The Zo-oph beat him easily,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">As it must nearly always be</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">When there are two to one.'</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Rather a wonderful tale that," continued the Dictionary. "I don't know +that I really believe it, though. It's too great a tale for any dog to +wag, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I don't think I believe it either. If the +zoophagan bit himself in two, I should think he'd have died. I know I +would."</p> + +<p>"No, you wouldn't," said the Dictionary; "because you couldn't. It isn't +a question of would and could, but of wouldn't and couldn't. By-the-way, +here's a chance for you to learn something. What's the longest letter in +the alphabet?"</p> + +<p>"They're all about the same, aren't they?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"They look so, but they aren't. L is the longest. An English ell is +forty-five inches long.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a><br /><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> Here's another. What letter does a Chinaman +wear on his head?"</p> + +<p>"Double eye!" cried Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"That's pretty good," said the Dictionary, with an approving nod; "but +you're wrong. He wears a Q. And I'll tell you why a Q is like a +Chinaman. Chinamen don't amount to a row of beans, and a Q is nothing +but a zero with a pig-tail. Do you know why they put A at the head of +the alphabet?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Because Alphabet begins with an A."</p> + +<p>"Then why don't they put T at the end of it?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"They do," said the Dictionary. "I-T—it."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy laughed to himself. He had no idea there was so much fun in +the Dictionary. "Tell me something more," he said.</p> + +<p>"Let me see. Oh, yes," said the Dictionary, complacently. "How's this?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">"'Oh, what is a yak, sir?' the young man said;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">'I really much wish to hear.'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">'A queer-looking cad with a bushy head,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">A buffalo-robe all over him spread,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">And whiskers upon his ear.'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">"And tell me, I pray,' said the boy in drab,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Just what's a Thelphusi-an?'</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 23em;">'A great big crab with nippers that nab</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">Whatever the owner desires to grab—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">A crusty crustace-an."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">"'I'm obliged,' said the boy, with a wide, wide smirk,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">As he slowly moved away.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">'Will you tell me, sir, ere I go to work—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">To toil till the night brings along its murk—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">How high peanuts are to-day?'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"And I had to give in,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">For I couldn't say;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And the boy, with a grin,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Moved off on his way."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"That was my own personal experience," said the Dictionary. "The boy was +a very mean boy, too. He went about telling people that there were a +great many things I didn't know, which was very true, only he never said +what they were, and his friends thought they were important things, like +the meaning of sagaciousness, and how many jays are there in geranium, +and others. If he'd told 'em that it was things like the price of +peanuts, and how are the fish biting to-day, and is your mother's +seal-skin sack plush or velvet, that I didn't know, they'd not have +thought it disgraceful. Oh, it was awfully mean!"</p> + +<p>"Particularly after you had told him what those other things were," said +Jimmieboy.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; but I got even with him. He came to me one day to find out what an +episode was, and I told him it was a poem in hysterical hexameters, with +a refrain repeated every eighteenth line, to be sung to slow music."</p> + +<p>"And what happened?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"He told his teacher that, and he was kept in for two months, and made +to subtract two apples from one lunch every recess."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my, how awful!" cried Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"But it served him right. Don't you think so?" said the Dictionary.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," said Jimmieboy. "But tell me. What'll I tell papa that he +doesn't know?"</p> + +<p>"Tell him that a sasspipedon is a barrel with four sides, and is open at +both ends, and is a much better place for cigar ashes than his lap, +because they pass through it to the floor, and so do not soil his +clothes."</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Jimmieboy, peering across the room to where his father +still sat smoking. "I think I'll tell him now. Say, papa," he cried +sitting up, "what is a sasspipedon?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. What?" answered Jimmieboy's father, laying his paper +down, and coming over to where the little boy sat.</p> + +<p>"It's a—it's a—it's an ash-barrel," said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> little fellow, trying to +remember what the Dictionary had said.</p> + +<p>"Who said so?" asked papa.</p> + +<p>"The Dictionary," answered Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>And when Jimmieboy's father came to examine the Dictionary on the +subject, the disagreeable old book hadn't a thing to say about the +sasspipedon, and Jimmieboy went up to bed wondering what on earth it all +meant, anyhow.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI">VI.</a></h2> + +<h3>JIMMIEBOY'S SNOWMAN.</h3> + +<p>The snow had been falling fast for well-nigh forty-eight hours and +Jimmieboy was almost crazy with delight. He loved the snow because it +was possible to do so much with it. One didn't need to go into a store, +for instance, and part with ten cents every time one happened to want a +ball, when there was snow on the ground. Then, too, Jimmieboy had a new +sled he wanted to try, but best of all, his father had promised to make +him a snowman, with shoe-buttons for eyes and a battered old hat on his +head, if perchance there could be found anywhere in the house a hat of +that sort. Fortunately a battered old hat was found, and the snowman +when finished looked very well in it. I say fortunately because +Jimmieboy had fully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> made up his mind that a battered hat was absolutely +necessary to make the snowman a success, and had not the old one been +found I very much fear the youth would have taken his father's new one +and battered that into the state of usefulness required to complete the +icy statue to his satisfaction.</p> + +<p>After the snowman was finished Jimmieboy romped about him and shouted in +great glee for an hour or more, and then, growing a little weary of the +sport, he ran up into his nursery to rest for a little while. He had not +been there very long however when he became, for some unknown reason, +uneasy about the funny looking creature he had left behind him. Running +to the window he looked out to see if the snowman was all right, and he +was much surprised to discover that he wasn't there at all. He couldn't +have melted, that was certain, for the air was colder than it had been +when the snowman was put up. No one could have stolen him because he was +too big, and so, well, it certainly was a strange conclusion, but none +the less the only one, he must have walked off himself.</p> + +<p>"It's mighty queer!" thought Jimmieboy. "He was there ten minutes ago."</p> + +<p>Then he ran down stairs and peered out of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> window. At the front of +the house no snowman was in sight. Then he went to a side window and +looked out. Still no snowman. And then the door-bell rang, and Jimmieboy +went to the door and opened it, and, dear me! how he laughed when he saw +who it was that had rung the bell, as would also have you, for, +honestly, it was no one else than the snowman himself.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" asked Jimmieboy. The snowman made a low bow to +Jimmieboy, and replied:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"I got so weary standing there,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">I thought I'd ask you for a chair;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">'Tis rather cool of me, I know,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">But coolness in a man of snow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Is quite the fashion in these days,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">And to be stylish always pays."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Won't you come in?" asked Jimmieboy politely.</p> + +<p>The snowman stared at Jimmieboy with all the power of the shoe-buttons. +He was evidently surprised. In a moment or two, however, he recovered +and said:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"Indeed, I'll enter not that door,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">I've tried it once or twice before."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"What of that?" asked Jimmieboy. "Didn't you like it?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"Oh, yes; I liked it well enough,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Although it used me pretty rough;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">I lost a nose and foot and ear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Last time I happened to come here."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Do you always speak in rhyme?" asked Jimmieboy, noticing the snowman's +habit for the first time.</p> + +<p>"Always, except when I speak in prose," said the snowman. "But perhaps +you don't like rhyme?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do like rhyme very much," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Then you like me," said the snowman, "because I'm mostly rime myself. +But say, don't stand there with the door open letting all the heat out +into the world. If you want to talk to me come outside where we can be +comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Jimmieboy. "I'll come, if you'll wait until I bundle +up a little so as to keep warm."</p> + +<p>"All right, I'll wait," the snowman answered, "only don't you get too +warm. I'll take you up to where I live and introduce you to my boys if +you like—only hurry. If a thaw should set in we might have trouble.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"Of all mean things I ever saw</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">The meanest of them is a thaw."</span><br /> +</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jimmieboy, pondering deeply over his curious experience, quickly donned +his overcoat and rubber boots, and in less time than it takes to tell it +was out of doors again with the snowman. The huge white creature smiled +happily as Jimmieboy came out, and taking him by the hand they went off +up the road together.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you weren't offended with me because I wouldn't go in and sit +down in your house," said the snowman, after they had walked a little +way. "I had a very narrow escape thirty winters ago when I was young and +didn't know any better than to accept an invitation of that sort. I +lived in Russia then, and a small boy very much like you asked me to go +into his house with him and see some funny picture-books he had. I said +all right, and in I went, never thinking that the house was hot and that +I'd be in danger of melting away. The boy got out his picture-books and +we sat down before a blazing log fire. Suddenly the boy turned white as +I was, and cried out:</p> + +<p>"'Hi! What have you done with your leg?'</p> + +<p>"'I brought it in with me, didn't I?' I said, looking down to where the +leg ought to be, and noticing much to my concern that it was gone.</p> + +<p>"'I thought so,' said the boy. 'Maybe you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> left it down on the hat-rack +with your hat and cane.'</p> + +<p>"'Well I wish you'd go and see,' said I, very nervously. 'I don't want +to lose that leg if I can help it.'</p> + +<p>"So off the boy went," continued the snowman, "and I waited there before +the fire wondering what on earth had become of the missing limb. The boy +soon came back and announced that he couldn't find it.</p> + +<p>"'Then I must hop around until I do find it,' I put in, starting up. +Would you believe it, Jimmieboy, that the minute I tried to rise and hop +off on the search I discovered that my other leg was gone too?"</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" said Jimmieboy. "How dreadful."</p> + +<p>"It was fearful," returned the snowman, "but that wasn't half. I raised +my hand to my forehead so as to think better, when off dropped my right +arm, and as I reached out with my left to pick it up again that dropped +off too. Then as my vest also disappeared, the boy cried out:</p> + +<p>"'Why, I know what's the matter. You are melting away!'</p> + +<p>"He was right. The heat of the log fire was just withering me right up. +Fortunately as my neck began to go and my head rolled off the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> chair +onto the floor, the boy had presence of mind enough to pick it up—it +was all that was left of me—and throw it out of the window. If it +hadn't been for that timely act of his I should have met the horrid fate +of my cousin the iceberg."</p> + +<p>"What was that?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he wanted to travel," said the snowman, "so he floated off down to +South America and waked up one morning to find himself nothing but a +tankful of the Gulf of Mexico. We never saw the poor fellow again."</p> + +<p>"I understand now why you didn't want to come in," said Jimmieboy, "and +I'm glad you didn't do as I asked you, for I don't think mamma would +have been pleased if you'd melted away in the parlor."</p> + +<p>"I know she wouldn't," said the snowman. "She's like the woman mentioned +in the poem, who</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"—hated flies and muddy shoes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">As well as pigs and kangaroos;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">But most of all she did abhor,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">A melted snow-drift on the floor."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Do you live near here?" asked Jimmieboy as he trudged along at the +snowman's side.</p> + +<p>"Well," replied the snowman, "I do, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> don't. When I do, I do, and +when I don't, it's otherwise. This climate doesn't agree with me in the +summer, and so when summer comes I move up to the North Pole. Ever been +there?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Jimmieboy, "what sort of a place is it?"</p> + +<p>"Fine," returned the snowman. "The thermometer is always at least twenty +miles below zero, even on the hottest days, and fire can't by any +possibility come near us. Only one fire ever tried to and it was frozen +stiff before it got within a hundred leagues of us. In winter, however, +I come to places like this, and bring my little boys with me. We hire a +convenient snow-drift and live in that. There's mine now right ahead of +you."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy peered curiously along the road, at the far end of which he +could see a huge mound of snow like the one the famous blizzard had +piled up in front of his father's house some time before Jimmieboy and +the world came to know each other.</p> + +<p>"Do you live in that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the snowman. "And I will say that it's one of the most +conveniently arranged snow-drifts I ever lived in. The house part of it +is always as cold as ice—it's cooled by a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> special kind of refrigerator +I had put in, which consumes about half a ton of ice a week."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy laughed.</p> + +<p>"It's a cold furnace, eh?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," answered the snowman. "And besides that the house is +deliciously draughty so that we have no difficulty in keeping cold. Once +in a while my boys run in the sun and get warmed through, but I dose 'em +up with ice-water and cold cream and they soon get chilled again. But +come, shall we go in?"</p> + +<p>The pedestrians had by this time reached the side of the snow-drift, and +Jimmieboy was pleased to see a door at one side of it. This the snowman +opened, and they entered together a marvelously beautiful and extensive +garden glistening with frosty flowers and snow-clad trees. At the end of +the garden was a little white house that looked like the icing on +Jimmieboy's birthday cake. As they approached it, the door of the little +house was thrown open and a dozen small-sized snow boys rushed out and +began to pelt the snowman and Jimmieboy with tennis balls.</p> + +<p>"Hold up, boys," cried the snowman. "I've brought a friend home to see +you."</p> + +<p>The boys stopped at once, and Jimmieboy was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> introduced to them. For +hours they entertained him in the gardens and in the house. They showed +him wondrous snow toys, among which were rocking horses, railway trains, +soldiers—all made of the same soft fleecy substance from which the +snowman and his children were constructed. When he had played for a long +time with these they gave him caramels and taffy and cream cakes, these +also made of snow, though as far as their taste went they were better +than those made of sugar and chocolate and cream, or, at least, it +seemed so to Jimmieboy at the time.</p> + +<p>After this bit of luncheon the boys invited him out to coast, and he +went along with them to the top of a high hill without any snow upon it, +and for hours he and they slid from summit to base in great red-wheeled +wagons. It took his breath away the first time he went down, but when he +got used to it he found the sport delightful. He was glad, however, when +a voice from the little white house called to the children to return.</p> + +<p>"Come in now, boys," it said. "It is getting too warm for you to stay +out."</p> + +<p>The boys were obedient to the word and they all—a dozen of them at +least—trooped back into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> the house where Jimmieboy was welcomed by his +friend the snowman again. The snowman looked a little anxious, Jimmieboy +thought, but he supposed this was because the littlest snowboy had +overheated himself at his play and had come in minus two fingers and an +ear. It was not this, however, that bothered him, as Jimmieboy found out +in a few minutes, for the snowman simply restored the missing fingers +and the ear by making a new lot for the little fellow out of a handful +of snow he got in the garden. Anything so easily replaced was not worth +worrying over. The real cause of his anxiety came out when the father of +this happy little family of snow boys called Jimmieboy to one side.</p> + +<p>"You must go home right away," he said. "I'm sorry, but we have got to +fly just as hard as we can or we are lost."</p> + +<p>"But——" said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask for reasons," returned the snowman, gathering his little +snowboys together and rushing off with them in tow. "I haven't time to +give them. Just read that and you'll see. Farewell."</p> + +<p>Then he made off down the garden path, and as he fled with his babies +Jimmieboy picked up the thing the snowman had told him to read,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> and +wandered back into the house, holding it in his hand. It was only a +newspaper, but at the top of the first column was an announcement in +huge letters:</p> + +<h4>WARM WAVE TO-NIGHT.</h4> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h4>WISE SNOWMEN WILL MOVE NORTH AT ONCE.</h4> + +<p>When Jimmieboy saw this he knew right away why he had been deserted, but +to this day he doesn't know how he knew it, because at the time this +happened he had not learned how to read. At all events he discovered +what the trouble was instantly, and then he decided that as he had been +left by all of his new friends he would go home. He walked to the front +door and opened it, and what do you suppose it opened into?</p> + +<p>The garden?</p> + +<p>Not a bit of it.</p> + +<p>Into Jimmieboy's nursery itself, and when the door closed upon him after +he had stepped through it into the nursery and Jimmieboy turned to look +at it, lo, and behold it wasn't there!</p> + +<p>Nor was the snowman to be found the next morning. It was quite evident +that he had got away from the warm wave that appeared on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> scene the +night before, for there wasn't even a sign of the shoe-button eyes or +the battered hat, as there certainly would have been had he melted +instead of run away.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII">VII.</a></h2> + +<h3>THE BICYCLOPÆDIA BIRD.</h3> + +<p>"Boo!" said something.</p> + +<p>And Jimmieboy of course was startled. So startled was he that, according +to his own statement, he jumped ninety-seven feet, though for my own +part I don't believe he really jumped more than thirty-three. He was too +sleepy to count straight anyhow. He had been lolling under his canvas +tent down near the tennis-court all the afternoon, getting lazier and +lazier every minute, and finally he had turned over square on his back, +put his head on a small cushion his mamma had made for him, closed his +eyes, and then came the "Boo!"</p> + +<p>"I wonder—" he said, as he gazed about him, seeing no sign of any +creature that could by any possibility say "Boo!" however.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course you do. That's why I've come," interrupted a voice from the +bushes. "More children of your age suffer from the wonders than from +measles, mumps, or canthaves."</p> + +<p>"What are canthaves?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Canthaves are things you can't have. Don't you ever suffer because you +can't have things?" queried the voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, indeed!" returned Jimmieboy. "Lots and lots of times."</p> + +<p>"And didn't you ever have the wonders so badly that you got cross and +wouldn't eat anything but sweet things for dinner?" the voice asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know exactly what you mean by the wonders," replied Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Why, wonders is a disease that attacks boys who want to know why things +are and can't find out," said the voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my, yes I've had that lots of times," laughed Jimmieboy. "Why, only +this morning I asked my papa why there weren't any dandelionesses, and +he wouldn't tell me because he said he had to catch a train, and I've +been wondering why ever since."</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd had it; all boys do get it sooner or later, and it's a +thing you can have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> any number of times unless you have me around," said +the voice.</p> + +<p>"What are you anyhow?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"I'm what they call the Encyclopædia Bird. I'm a regular owl for wisdom. +I know everything—just like the Cyclopædia; and I have two wheels +instead of legs, which is why they call me the Bicyclopædia Bird. I +can't let you see me, because these are not my office hours. I can only +be seen between ten and two on the thirty-second of March every +seventeenth year. You can get a fair idea of what I look like from my +photograph, though."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 203px;"> +<img src="images/ill_009.jpg" width="203" height="300" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p>As the voice said this, sure enough a photograph did actually pop out of +the bush, and land at Jimmieboy's feet. He sprang forward eagerly, +stooped, and picking it up, gazed earnestly at it. And a singular +creature the Bicyclopædia Bird must have been if the photograph did him +justice. He had the head of an owl, but his body was oblong in shape, +just like a book, and, as the voice had said, in place of legs were two +wheels precisely like those of a bicycle. The effect was rather +pleasing, but so funny that Jimmieboy really wanted to laugh. He did not +laugh, however, for fear of hurting the Bird's feelings, which the Bird +noticed and appreciated.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said, simply.</p> + +<p>"What for?" asked Jimmieboy, looking up from the photograph, and peering +into the bush in the vain hope of catching a glimpse of the Bird itself.</p> + +<p>"For not laughing," replied the Bird. "If you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> had laughed I should have +biked away at once because I am of no value to any one who laughs at my +personal appearance. It always makes me forget all I know, and that does +me up for a whole year. If I forget all I know, you see, I have to study +hard to learn it all over again, and that's a tremendous job, +considering how much knowledge there is to be had in the world. So you +see, by being polite and kind enough not to laugh at me, who can't help +being funny to look at, and who am not to blame for looking that way, +because I am not a self-made Bird, you are really the gainer, for I +promise you I'll tell you anything you want to know."</p> + +<p>"That's very nice of you," returned Jimmieboy; "and perhaps, to begin +with, you'll tell me something that I ought to want to know, whether I +do or not."</p> + +<p>"That is a very wise idea," said the Bicyclopædia Bird, "and I'll try to +do it. Let me see; now, do you know why the Pollywog is always amiable?"</p> + +<p>"No," returned Jimmieboy. "I never even knew that he was, and so +couldn't really wonder why."</p> + +<p>"But you wonder why now, don't you?" asked the voice, anxiously. "For if +you don't, I can't tell you."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm just crazy to know," Jimmieboy responded.</p> + +<p>"Then listen, and I will tell you," said the voice. And then the strange +bird recited this poem about</p> + +<h4>THE POLLYWOG.</h4> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"The Pollywog's a perfect type</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Of amiability.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He never uses angry speech</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Wherever he may be.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He never calls his brother names,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Or tweaks his sister's nose;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He never pulls the sea-dog's tail,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Or treads upon his toes.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"He never says an unkind word,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And frown he never will.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">A smile is ever on his lips,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">E'en when he's feeling ill.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And this is why: when Pollywog</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">The first came on the scene,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He had a temper like a cat's—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">His eye with it was green.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Now, just about the time when he</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Began to lose his tail,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">To change into a croaking frog,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He came across a nail—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">A nail so rusty that it looked</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Just like an angle-worm,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Except that it was straight and stiff,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">And so could never squirm.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"And Polly, feeling hungry, to</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Assuage his appetite,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Swam boldly up to that old nail,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And gave it such a bite,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He nearly broke his upper jaw;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">His lower jaw he bent.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And then he got so very mad,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">His temper simply went.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"He lost it so completely as</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He lashed and gnashed around,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">That though this happened years ago,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">It has not since been found.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And that is why, at all times, in</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">The Pollywog you see,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">A model of that virtue rare—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">True Amiability."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Now, I dare say," continued the Bird—"I dare say you might have asked +your father—who really knows a great deal, considering he isn't my twin +brother—sixteen million four hundred and twenty-three times why the +Pollywog is always so good-natured, and he couldn't have answered you +more than once out of the whole lot, and he'd have been wrong even +then."</p> + +<p>"It must be lovely to know so much," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"It is," said the Bird; "that is, it is lovely when you don't have to +keep it all to yourself. It's very nice to tell things. That's really +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> best part of secrets, I think. It is such fun telling them. Now, +why does the sun rise in the morning?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Why?"</p> + +<p>"For the same reason that you do," returned the sage Bird. "Because it +is time to get up."</p> + +<p>"Well, here's a thing I don't know about," said Jimmieboy. "What is 'to +alarm?'"</p> + +<p>"To frighten—to scare—to discombobulate," replied the Bird. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't see why an alarm-clock is called an alarm-clock, because +it doesn't ever alarm anybody," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it doesn't, eh?" cried the Bird. "Well, that's just where you are +mistaken. It alarms the people or the animals you dream about when you +are asleep, and they make such a noise getting away that they wake you +up. Why, an alarm-clock saved my life once. I dreamed that I fell asleep +on board a steamboat that went so fast hardly anybody could stay on +board of her—she just regularly slipped out from under their feet, and +unless a passenger could run fast enough to keep up with her, or was +chained fast enough to keep aboard of her, he'd get dropped astern every +single time. I dreamed I was aboard of her one day, and that to keep on +deck I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> chained myself to the smoke-stack, and then dozed off. Just as I +was dozing, a Misinformation Bird, who was jealous of me, sneaked up and +cut the chain. As he expected, the minute I was cut loose the boat +rushed from under me, and the first thing I knew I was struggling in the +water. While I was struggling there, I was attacked by a Catfish. Cats +are death to birds, you know, and I really had given myself up for lost, +when '<i>ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling</i>' went the alarm-clock in the corner of +my cage; the fish turned blue with fear, swished his tail about in his +fright, and the splashing of the water waked me up, and there I was +standing on one wheel on my perch, safe and sound. If that clock hadn't +gone off and alarmed that Catfish, I am afraid I should have been +forever lost to the world."</p> + +<p>"I see now; but I never knew before why it was called an alarm-clock, +and I've wondered about it a good deal," said Jimmieboy. "Now, here's +another thing I've bothered over many a time: What's the use of weeds?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's easy," said the Bird, with a laugh. "To make lawns look +prettier next year than they do this."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how that is," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Clear as window-glass. This year you have weeds on your lawn, don't +you?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"And you make them get out, don't you?" said the Bird.</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Well, there you are. By getting out they make your lawns prettier. +That's one of the simplest things in the world. But here's a thing I +should think you'd wonder at. Why do houses have shutters on their +windows?" asked the Bird.</p> + +<p>"I know why," said Jimmieboy. "It's to keep the sun out."</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense, because the sun is so much larger than any house that +was ever built it couldn't get in if it tried," returned the feathered +sage.</p> + +<p>"Then I don't know why. Why?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"So as to wake people up by banging about on windy nights, and they are +a mighty useful invention too," said the Bird. "I knew of a whole family +that got blown away once just because they hadn't any shutters to bang +about and warn them of their danger. It was out in the West, where they +have cyclones, which are things that pick up houses and toss them about +just as you would pebbles. A Mr. and Mrs. Podlington had built a house +in the middle of a big field for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> themselves and their seventeen +children. Mr. Podlington was very rich, but awful mean, and when the +house was finished, all except the shutters, he said he wasn't going to +have any shutters because they cost too much, and so they hadn't a +shutter on the house. One night after they had lived where they were +about six months they all went to bed about nine o'clock, and by ten +they were sound asleep, every one of them. At eleven o'clock a breeze +sprang up. This grew very shortly into a gale. Then it became a +hurricane, and by two o'clock it was a cyclone. One cyclone wouldn't +have hurt much, but at three o'clock two more came along, and the first +thing the Podlington family knew their house was blown off its +foundations, lifted high up in the air, and at breakfast-time was out of +sight, and, what is worse, it has never come down anywhere, and all this +happened ten years ago."</p> + +<p>"But where did it go?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Nobody knows. Maybe it landed in the moon. Maybe it's being blown about +on the wings of those cyclones yet. I don't believe we'll ever know," +answered the Bird. "But you can see just why that all happened. It was +Mr. Podlington's meanness about the shutters, and nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> else. If he +had had shutters on that house, at least one of them would have flopped +bangety-bang against the house all night, and the chances are that they +would all have been waked up by it before the cyclone came, and in +plenty of time to save themselves. In fact, I think very likely they +could have fastened the house more securely to the ground, and saved it +too, if they had waked up and seen what was going on."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 301px;"> +<img src="images/ill_010.jpg" width="301" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">"I'LL NEVER BUILD A HOUSE WITHOUT SHUTTERS."</span> +</div> + +<p>"I'll never build a house without shutters," said Jimmieboy, as he tried +to fancy the condition of the Podlingtons whisking about in the air for +ten long years—nearly five years longer than he himself had lived. If +they had landed in the moon it wouldn't have been so bad, but this other +possible and even more likely fate of mounting on the wind ever higher +and higher and not landing anywhere was simply dreadful to think about.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't, especially in the cyclone country," returned the voice in +the bush. "But I'll tell you of one thing that would save you if you +really did have to build a house without shutters; build it with wings. +You've heard of houses with wings, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," said Jimmieboy. "Why, our house has three wings. One of +'em was put on it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a><br /><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> last summer, so that we could have a bigger +kitchen."</p> + +<p>"I remember," said the Bird. "I wondered a good deal about that wing +until I found out it was for a kitchen, and not to fly with. The house +had enough wings to fly with without the new one. In fact, the new one +for flying purposes would be as useless as a third wheel to a bicycle."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by to fly with?" asked Jimmieboy, puzzled at this +absurd remark of the Bird.</p> + +<p>"Exactly what I say. Wings are meant to fly with, aren't they? I hope +you knew that!" said the Bird. "So if the Podlingtons' house had had +wings it might have got back all right. It could have worked its way +slowly out of the cyclone, and then sort of rested on its wings a little +until it was prepared to swoop down on to its old foundations, alighting +just where it was before. A trip through the air under such +circumstances would have been rather pleasant, I think—much pleasanter +than going off into the air forever, without any means of getting back."</p> + +<p>"But," asked Jimmieboy, "even if Mr. Podlington's house had had wings, +how could he have made them work?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, how stupid of you!" cried the Bird. "Don't you know that he could +have taken hold of the——"</p> + +<p>"Ting-a-ling-a-ling a-ling-a-ling!" rang the alarm-clock up in the +cook's room, which had been set for six o'clock in the afternoon instead +of for six in the morning by some odd mistake of Mary Ann's.</p> + +<p>"The alarm! The alarm!" shrieked the Bird, in terror.</p> + +<p>And then the invisible creature, if Jimmieboy could judge by the noise +in the bush, seemed to make off as fast as he could go, his cries of +fear growing fainter and fainter as the wise Bird got farther and +farther away, until finally they died away in the distance altogether.</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy sprang to his feet, looked down the road along which his +strange friend had fled, and then walked into the house, wishing that +the alarm-clock had held off just a little longer, so that he might have +learned how the wings of a house should be managed to make the house fly +off into the air. He really felt as if he would like to try the +experiment with his own house.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII">VIII.</a></h2> + +<h3>GIANT THE JACK KILLER.</h3> + +<p>Jimmieboy was turning over the pages of his fairy book the other night, +trying to refresh his memory concerning the marvelous doings of the +fairy-land people by looking at the pictures. His papa was too tired to +read to him, and as no one else in the house was willing to undertake +the task, the boy was doing his best to entertain himself, and as it +happened he got more out of his own efforts than he ever derived from +the efforts of others. He had dallied long over the weird experiences of +Cinderella, and had just turned over the pages which lead up to the +story of Jack the Giant Killer, when something in the picture of the +Giant's castle seemed to move.</p> + +<p>Looking a little more closely at the picture in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> a startled sort of way, +Jimmieboy saw that the moving thing was the knob of the castle door, and +in a jiffy the door itself opened, and a huge homely creature whom +Jimmieboy recognized at once as an ogre stuck his head out. For a moment +the little fellow felt disposed to cry for help. Surely if the Giant +could open the door in the picture there was no reason why he should not +step out of the book entirely and make a speedy meal of Jimmieboy, who, +realizing that he was entirely unarmed, was inclined to run and hide +behind his papa's back. His fast oozing courage was quickly restored, +however, by the Giant himself, who winked at him in a genial sort of +fashion as much as to say: "Nonsense, boy, I wouldn't eat you, if I +could." The wink he followed up at once with a smile, and then he said:</p> + +<p>"That you, Jimmieboy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Jimmieboy, very civilly indeed. "I'm me. Are you you?"</p> + +<p>The Giant laughed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied, "and so, of course, we are ourselves. Are you very +busy?"</p> + +<p>"Not very," said Jimmieboy. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"I want a little advice from you," the Giant answered. "I think it's +about time the tables were turned on that miserable little ruffian +Jack.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> The idea of a big thing like me being killed every day of his +life by a mosquito like Jack is very tiresome, and I want to know if you +don't think it would be fair if I should kill him just once for the sake +of variety. It won't hurt him. He'll come to life again right away just +as we Giants do——"</p> + +<p>"Don't you stay dead when Jack kills you?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"You know the answer to that as well as I do," said the Giant. "You've +had this story read to you every day now for three years, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"About that," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Well, if we staid dead how do you suppose we'd be on hand to be killed +again the next time you had the story read to you?"</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Never thought of it?" echoed the ogre. "Why, what kind of thoughts do +you think, anyhow? It's the only thought for a thinker to think I think, +don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Say that again, will you?" said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't possibly," said the ogre. "In fact, I've forgotten it. But +what do you think of my scheme? Don't you think it would be wise if I +killed Jack just once?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps it would," said the boy. "That is if it wouldn't hurt him."</p> + +<p>"Hurt him? Didn't I tell you it wouldn't hurt him?" said the Giant. "I +wouldn't hurt that boy for all the world. If I did I'd lose my position. +Why, all I am I owe to him. The fairy people let me live in this +magnificent castle for nothing. They let me rob them of all their +property, and all I have to do in return for this is to be killed by +Jack whenever any little boy or girl in your world desires to be amused +by a tragedy of that sort. So you see I haven't any hard feelings +against him, even if I did call him a miserable little ruffian."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't exactly like to have Jack killed," said Jimmieboy. "I've +always rather liked him. What do you suppose he would say to it?"</p> + +<p>"That's just the point. I wouldn't kill him unless he was willing. That +would be a violation of my agreement with him, and when he came to he +might sue me for what the lawyers call a breach of contract," said the +ogre. "Now, it seemed to me that if you were to go to Jack and tell him +that you were getting a little tired of having this story end the way it +does all the time, and that you thought it only fair to me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> that I +should have a chance to celebrate a victory, say once a week—every +Saturday night for instance—he'd be willing to do it."</p> + +<p>"Where can I find him?" asked Jimmieboy. "I just as lief ask him."</p> + +<p>"He's in the picture, two pages farther along, sharpening his sword," +said the ogre.</p> + +<p>"Very well, I'll go see him at once," said Jimmieboy. Then he said +good-by to the Giant, and turned over the pages until he came to the +pictures showing how Jack sharpened his sword on the soles of the shoes +of another giant, whom he had bound and strapped to the floor.</p> + +<p>At first Jimmieboy did not know how to address him. He had often spoken +to the figures in the pictures, but they had never replied to anything +he had said. However, he made a beginning.</p> + +<p>"Ahem!" he said.</p> + +<p>The effect was pleasing, for as he said this Jack stopped sharpening his +blade and turned to see who had spoken.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Jimmieboy!" said the small warrior. "Howdy do. Haven't seen much of +you this week. You've been paying more attention to Hop o' My Thumb than +to me lately."</p> + +<p>"Well, I love you just the same," said Jimmieboy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> "I've just seen the +Giant that lives up in the castle with the dragon on the front stoop."</p> + +<p>"He's a good fellow," said Jack. "I'm very fond of him. He never gives +me any trouble, and dies just as easy as if he were falling off a log, +and out of business hours we're great chums. He's had something on his +mind lately, though, that I don't understand. He says being killed every +day is getting monotonous."</p> + +<p>"That's what he said to me," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope he doesn't resign his position," said Jack, thoughtfully. +"I know it isn't in every way a pleasant one, but he might go farther +and fare worse. The way I kill him is painless, but if he got into that +Bean-stalk boy's hands he'd be all bruised up. You can't fall a mile +without getting hurt, you know, and I like the old fellow too well to +have him go over to that Bean-stalk cousin of mine."</p> + +<p>"He likes you, too," said Jimmieboy, pleased to find that there was so +much good feeling between the two creatures. "But he thinks he ought to +get a chance to win once in a while. He said if he could arrange it with +you to have him kill you once a week—Saturday nights, for +instance—he'd be perfectly contented."</p> + +<p>"That's reasonable enough," said Jack, nodding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> his head approvingly. +"Did he say how he would like to do it?"</p> + +<p>"No, only that he'd kill you tenderly, so that you wouldn't suffer," +said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know that!" said Jack, softly. "He's too tender-hearted to hurt +anybody. I'm very much inclined to agree to the proposition, but he must +let me choose the manner of the killing. He hasn't had much practice +killing people, and if he were to do it by hitting me on the head with a +stick of wood I'd be likely to wake up with a headache next day; neither +should I like to be smothered because while that doesn't bruise one or +break any bones its awfully stuffy, and if there's one thing I like it +is fresh air."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he might eat you," suggested Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"He isn't big enough to do that comfortably," said Jack, shaking his +head. "He'd have to cut me up and chew me, because his throat isn't +large enough for him to swallow me at one gulp. But I'll tell you what +you can do. You go back to him, and tell him that I'll agree to his +proposition, if he'll have me cooked in a plum-pudding four hundred feet +in circumference. I'm very fond of plum-pudding, and while he is eating +it from the outside I could be eating it from the inside,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> and, of +course, I shouldn't be burned in the cooking, because in the middle of a +pudding of that size the heat never could reach me."</p> + +<p>"But when he reached you," said Jimmieboy, "you'd have the same trouble +you said you'd have if he ate you up. He'd have to cut you to pieces and +chew you."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Jack, "don't you see my point? By the time he reached me he +would have eaten so much plum-pudding that he wouldn't have room for me, +so I'd escape."</p> + +<p>"But, then, you wouldn't be killed," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"That wouldn't make any difference," said Jack. "We'd stop the story +before I escaped and everybody would think I'd been eaten up, and that's +all he wants. He just wants to seem to win once. He doesn't really care +about killing me dead. Don't you see."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I do," said Jimmieboy, "and I'll go back and tell him what +you say."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Jack. "And while you are there give him my love, and +tell him I'll be around to kill him as usual after tea."</p> + +<p>All of which Jimmieboy did and the Giant readily agreeing to the +plum-pudding scheme, said good-night to his little visitor, and retired +into the castle, closing the door after him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Jimmieboy went to bed in a great hurry, because he knew how sleep +made time seem shorter than it really was, and he was very anxious to +have Saturday night come around so that he could see how the new ending +to the story of Jack the Giant Killer worked.</p> + +<p>As yet that Saturday night has not turned up, so that I really cannot +tell you whether or not the arrangement was a success.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX">IX.</a></h2> + +<h3>JIMMIEBOY AND THE FIREWORKS.</h3> + +<p>There was whispering going on somewhere, and Jimmieboy felt that it was +his duty to find out where it was, who it was that was doing it, and +what it was that was being whispered. It was about an hour after supper +on the evening of July 3d when it all happened. A huge box full of +fire-works had arrived only a few hours before, and Jimmieboy was +somewhat afraid that the whisperings might have come from burglars who, +knowing that there were thirty-five rockets, twenty Roman candles, +colored lights by the dozen, and no end of torpedoes and fire-crackers +and other things in the house, had come to steal them, and, if he could +help himself, Jimmieboy was not going to allow that. So he began to +search about, and in a few minutes he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> had located the whisperers in the +very room at the foot of the back stairs in which the fire-works were. +His little heart almost stopped beating for a moment when he realized +this. It isn't pleasant to feel that perhaps you will be deprived, after +all, of something you have looked forward to for a whole month, and upon +the very eve of the fulfillment of your dearest hopes at that.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to tell papa about this," he said; and then, realizing that +his papa was not at home, and that his mamma was up stairs trying to +convince his small brother that it would be impossible to get the moon +into the nursery, although it looked much smaller even than the nursery +window, Jimmieboy resolved that he would take the matter in hand +himself.</p> + +<p>"A boygler wouldn't hurt me, and maybe if I talk gruff and keep out of +sight, he'll think I'm papa and run," he said.</p> + +<p>Then he tried his gruff voice, and it really was tremendously +gruff—about as gruff as the bark of a fox-terrier. After he had done +this, he tip-toed softly down the stairs until he stood directly +opposite the door of the room where the fire-works were.</p> + +<p>"Move on, you boygler you!" he cried, just as he thought his father +would have said it.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>The answer was an explosion—not exactly of fire-works, but of mirth.</p> + +<p>"He thinks somebody's trying to steal us," said a funny little voice, +the like of which Jimmieboy had never heard before.</p> + +<p>"How siss-siss-sissingular of him," said another voice that sounded like +a fire-cracker missing fire.</p> + +<p>"He thinks he can fool us by imitating the voice of his +pop-pop-pop-popper," put in a third voice, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>At which Jimmieboy opened the door and looked in, and then he saw whence +the whispering had come, and to say that he was surprised at what he saw +is a too mild way of putting it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> He was so astonished that he lost all +control over his joints, and the first thing he knew he was sitting on +the floor. The spectacle had, in fact, knocked him over, as well it +might, for there, walking up and down the floor, swarming over chairs +and tables, playing pranks with each other, and acting in a generally +strange fashion, were the fire-works themselves. It was interesting, and +at the same time alarming, for one or two reckless sky-rockets were +smoking, a lot of foolish little fire-crackers were playing with matches +in one corner, and a number of the great big cannon torpedoes were +balancing themselves on the arms of the gas-fixture, utterly heedless of +the fact that if they were to fall to the floor they would explode and +be done for forever.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Jimmieboy!" said one of the larger rockets, taking off his funny +little cap at the astonished youngster. "I suppose you've come down to +see us rehearse?"</p> + +<p>"I thought somebody was stealing you, and I came down to frighten them +away," Jimmieboy replied.</p> + +<p>The Rocket laughed. "Nobody can steal us," it said. "If anybody came to +steal us, we'd cry, and get so soaked with tears nobody could get us to +go off, so what good would we be?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not much, I guess," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"That's the answer," returned the Rocket. "You seem to be good at +riddles. Let me give you another. What's the difference between a man +who steals a whole wig and a fire-cracker?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't know," said Jimmieboy, still too full of wonderment +to think out an answer to a riddle like that.</p> + +<p>"Why, one goes off with a whole head of hair," said the Rocket, "and the +other goes off only with a bang."</p> + +<p>"That's good," said Jimmieboy. "Make it up yourself?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the Rocket. "I got that out of the magazine."</p> + +<p>"What magazine?" asked Jimmieboy, innocently.</p> + +<p>"The powder-magazine," roared the Rocket, and then the Pin Wheel and +other fire-works danced about, and threw themselves on the floor with +laughter—all except the Torpedoes, which jumped up and down on a soft +plush chair, where they were safe.</p> + +<p>When the laughter over the Rocket's wit had subsided, one of the Roman +Candles called to the Giant Cracker, and asked him to sing a song for +Jimmieboy.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I can't sing to-night," said the Cracker. "I'm very busy making ready +my report for to-morrow."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ill_011.jpg" width="400" height="237" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE GIANT CRACKER SINGING HIS SONG.</span> +</div> + +<p>Here the Cracker winked at Jimmieboy, as much as to say, "How is that +for a joke?" Whereat Jimmieboy winked back to show that he thought it +wasn't bad; which so pleased the Cracker that he said he guessed, after +all, he would sing his song if the little Crackers would stop playing +until he got through. The little Crackers promised, and the Giant +Cracker sang this song:</p> + +<h4>"THE GIANT CRACKER AND THE MANDARIN'S DAUGHTER.</h4> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"He was a Giant Cracker bold,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">His name was Wing-Hi-Ee.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He wore a dress of red and gold—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Was handsome as could be.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">His master was a Mandarin,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Who lived in old Shang-Hai,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And had a daughter named Ah Din,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">With sweet blue almond eye.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Now Wing he loved this Saffron Queen,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And Ah Din she loved him;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">But Chinese law came in between</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Them with its measures grim.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">For you must know, in that far land,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Where dwell the heathen wild,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">A Cracker may not win the hand</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">Of any noble's child.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"This made their love a hopeless one—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Alas! that it should be</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">That anywhere beneath the sun</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Exists such misery!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">So they resolved, since she could not</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Become his cherished bride,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Together they'd seek out some spot</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And there they'd suicide.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"They hastened, weeping, from the town,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Wing-Hi and fair Ah Din,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And on the river-bank sat down</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Until the tide came in.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Then Wing-Hi whispered, sitting there,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">With tear-drops in his eye,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">'Good-by, Ah Din!' And, in despair,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">She answered him, 'Good-by.'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"And then she grasped a sulphur match;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">She lit it on her shoe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Whereat, with neatness and dispatch,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Wing-Hi she touched it to.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">There came a flash, there came a shriek,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A sound surpassing weird,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And Wing-Hi brave and Ah Din meek</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">In pieces disappeared."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Isn't that lovely?" asked the Rocket, his voice husky with emotion.</p> + +<p>"It's very fine," said Jimmieboy. "It's rather sad, though."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but it might have been sadder, you know," said the Giant Cracker. +"She might not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> have loved him at all; and if she hadn't loved him, he +wouldn't have wasted a match committing suicide for her sake, and then +there wouldn't have been any tragedy, and, of course, no song would have +been written about it. Why, there is no end to the misery there might +have been."</p> + +<p>Here one of the Torpedoes fell off the gas-fixture to the floor, where +he exploded with a loud noise. There was a rush from all sides to see +whether the poor little fellow was done for forever.</p> + +<p>"Send for the doctor," said the Pin Wheel. "I think he can be mended."</p> + +<p>"No, don't," said the injured Torpedo. "I can fix myself up again. Send +for a whisk broom and bring me a parlor match, and I'll be all right."</p> + +<p>"What's the whisk broom for?" asked Jimmieboy, somewhat surprised at the +remedies suggested.</p> + +<p>"Why," said the Torpedo, "if you will sweep me together with the whisk +broom and wrap me up carefully, I'll eat the head off the parlor match, +and I'll be all right again. The match head will give me all the snap I +need, and if you'll wrap me up in the proper way, I'll show you what +noise is to-morrow. You'll think I'm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> some relation to that Miss Din in +the Giant Cracker's song, unless I'm mistaken, when you hear me explode."</p> + +<p>The Fire-crackers jeered a little at this, because there has always been +more or less jealousy between the Torpedoes and the Fire-crackers, but +the Rocket soon put a stop to their sneers.</p> + +<p>"What's the use of jeering?" he said. "You don't know whether he'll make +much noise or not. The chances are he'll make more noise than a great +many of you Crackers, who are just as likely as not to turn out sissers +in the long-run."</p> + +<p>The Fire crackers were very much abashed by the Rocket's rebuke, and +retired shamefacedly into their various packs, whereupon the Pin Wheel +suggested that the Rocket recite his poem telling the singular story of +Nate and the Rocket.</p> + +<p>"Would you like to hear that story, Jimmieboy?" asked the Rocket.</p> + +<p>"Very much," said Jimmieboy. "The name of it sounds interesting."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll try to tell it. It's pretty long, and your ears are short; +but we can try it, as the boy observed to the man who said he didn't +think the boy's mouth was large enough to hold four pieces of strawberry +short-cake. So here goes. The real title of the poem is</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<h4>"THE DREADFUL FATE OF NAUGHTY NATE.</h4> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Way back in eighty-two or three—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">I don't recall the date—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">There lived somewhere—'twixt you and me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">I really can't locate</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The place exact; say Sangaree—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A lad; we'll call him Nate.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"His father was a grocer, or</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A banker, or maybe</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He kept a thriving candy store,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">For all that's known to me.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Perhaps he was the Governor</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Of Maine or Floridee.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"At any rate, he had a dad—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Or so the story's told;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Most youngsters that I've known have had—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And Nate's had stacks of gold,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And those who knew him used to add,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He spent it free and bold.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"If Nate should ask his father for</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A dollar or a cent,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">His father'd always give him more</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Than for to get he went;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And then, before the day was o'er,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Nate always had it spent.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Molasses taffy, circus, cake,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Tarts, soda-water, pie,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Hot butter-scotch, or rare beefsteak,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Or silk hats, Nate could buy.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">His father'd never at him shake</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">His head and ask him 'Why?'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'For but one thing,' his father cried,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">'You must not spend your store;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Sky-rockets I cannot abide,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">So buy them never more.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Let such, I pray, be never spied</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Inside of my front door.'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"But Nate, alas! did not obey</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">His father's orders wise.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He hied him forth without delay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Ignoring tarts and pies,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And bought a rocket huge, size A,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">'The Monarch of the Skies.'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"He clasped it tightly to his breast,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And smiled a smile of glee;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And as the sun sank in the west,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He sat beneath a tree,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And then the rocket he invest-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">I-g-a-t-e-d.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Alas for Nate! The night was warm;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">June-bugs and great fire-flies</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Around about his head did swarm;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">The mercury did rise;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And then a fine electric storm</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Played havoc in the skies.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Now if, perchance, it was a fly,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">I'm not prepared to say;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Or if 'twas lightning from the sky,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">That came along that way;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Or if 'twas only brought on by</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">The heat of that warm day,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"I am not certain, but 'tis clear</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">There came a sudden boom,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And high up in the atmosphere,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Enlightening the gloom,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The rocket flew, a fiery spear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And Nate, too, I presume.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"For never since that July day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Has any man seen Nate.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">But far off in the Milky Way,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Astronomers do state,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">A comet brilliant, so they say,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">Doth round about gyrate.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"It's head's so like small Natty's face,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">They think it's surely he,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Aboard that rocket-stick in space,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Still mounting constantly;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And still must mount until no trace</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Of it at all we see."</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/ill_012.jpg" width="170" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">NATE AS A COMET.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Isn't that the most fearfully awfully terribly horribly horribly +terribly fearful bit of awfulness you ever heard?" queried the Rocket, +when he had finished.</p> + +<p>"It is indeed," said Jimmieboy. "It really makes me feel unhappy, and I +wish you hadn't told it to me."</p> + +<p>"I would not bother about it," said the Rocket; "because really the best +thing about it is that it never happened."</p> + +<p>"Suppose it did happen," said Jimmieboy, after thinking it over for a +minute or two. "Would Nate ever get back home again?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he might," returned the Rocket. "But not before six or seven +million years, and that would make him late for tea, you know. +By-the-way," the Rocket added, "do you know the best kind of tea to have +on Fourth of July?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Jimmieboy. "What?"</p> + +<p>"R-o-c-k-e-tea," said the Rocket.</p> + +<p>The Pin Wheels laughed so heartily at this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> that one of them fell over +on a box of Blue Lights and set them off, and the Rocket endeavoring to +put them out was set going himself, and the first thing Jimmieboy knew, +his friend gave a fearful siss, and disappeared up the chimney. The +sparks from the Rocket falling on the Roman Candles started them along, +and three or four balls from them landed on a flower piece which was +soon putting forth the most beautiful fiery roses imaginable, one of +which, as it gave its dying sputter, flew up and landed on the fuse of a +great set piece that was supposed to have a motto on it. Jimmieboy was +almost too frightened to move, so he just sat where he was, and stared +at the set piece until he could read the motto, which was, strange to +say, no motto at all, but simply these words in red, white, and blue +fire, "Wake up, and go to bed right." Whereupon Jimmieboy rubbed his +eyes, and opened them wider than ever to find his papa bending over him, +and saying the very words he had seen on the set piece.</p> + +<p>Probably the reason why his papa was saying this was that Jimmieboy had +been found by him on his return home lying fast asleep, snuggled up in +the corner of the library lounge.</p> + +<p>As for the fire-works, in some way or other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> they all managed to get +back into the box again in good condition, except the broken torpedo, +which was found in the middle of the floor just where it had fallen. +Which Jimmieboy thinks was very singular.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="X" id="X">X.</a></h2> + +<h3>JIMMIEBOY'S PHOTOGRAPH.</h3> + +<p>Jimmieboy had been taken to the photographer's and had posed several +times for the man who made pictures of little boys. One picture showed +how he looked leaning against a picket fence with a tiger skin rug under +his feet. Another showed him in the act of putting his hands into his +pockets, while a third was a miserable attempt to show how he looked +when he couldn't stand still. The last pleased Jimmieboy very much. It +made him laugh and Jimmieboy liked laughing better than anything, +perhaps, excepting custard, which was his idea of real solid bliss. Why +it made him laugh, I do not know, unless it was because in the picture +he was very much blurred and looked something like a mixture of a cloud +and a pin-wheel.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I like that one," Jimmieboy said to his mother, when the proof came +home. "Won't you let me have it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said his mother. "You can have it. I don't think any one else +wants it."</p> + +<p>So the proof became Jimmieboy's property, and he put it away in his +collection of treasures, which already contained many valuable things, +such as the whistle of a rubber ball, a piece of elastic, and a worn-out +tennis racket. These treasures the boy used to have out two or three +times a day, and the last time he had them out something queer happened. +The blurred little figure in the picture spoke to him and told him +something he didn't forget in a hurry.</p> + +<p>"You think I'm a funny-looking thing don't you?" said the blurred +picture of himself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," said Jimmieboy, "that's why I laugh at you whenever I see +you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I laugh when I see you, too," retorted the picture. "You are just +as funny to look at sometimes as I am."</p> + +<p>"I'm not either," said Jimmieboy. "I don't look like a cloud or a +pin-wheel, and you do."</p> + +<p>"I'm a picture of you, just the same," returned the proof, "and if you +had stood still when the man was taking you, I'd have been all right. +It's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> awful mean the way little boys have of not standing still when +they are having their pictures taken, and then laughing at the thing +they're responsible for afterward."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to be mean," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," retorted the picture, "but if it hadn't been for you I'd +have been a lovely picture, and your mamma would have had a nice little +silver frame put around me, and maybe I'd have been standing on your +papa's desk with the inkstand and the mucilage instead of having to live +all my life with a broken whistle and a tennis bat that nobody but you +has any use for."</p> + +<p>Here the picture sighed, and Jimmieboy felt very sorry for it.</p> + +<p>"Boys don't know what a terrible lot of horrid things happen because +they don't stand still sometimes," continued the picture. "I know of +lots of cases where untold misery has come from movey boys."</p> + +<p>"From what?" queried Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Movey boys," replied the picture. "By that I mean boys that don't stand +still when they ought to. Why, I knew of a boy once who wouldn't stand +still and he shook a whole town to pieces."</p> + +<p>"Ho!" jeered Jimmieboy. "I don't believe it."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, it's so, whether you believe it or not," said the picture. "The +boy's name was Bob, and he lived somewhere, I don't remember where. His +mother told him to stand still and he wouldn't; he just jumped up and +down, and up and down all the time."</p> + +<p>"That may be, but I don't see how he could shake a whole town to +pieces," said Jimmieboy, "unless he was a very heavy boy."</p> + +<p>"He didn't weigh a bit more than you do," answered the picture. "He was +heavy enough when he jumped to shake his nursery though, and the nursery +was heavy enough to shake the house, and the house was heavy enough to +shake the lot, and the lot was heavy enough to shake the street, and the +street shook the whole town, and when the town shook, everybody thought +there was an earthquake, and they all moved away, and took the name of +the town with them, which is why I don't know where it was."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy was silent. He never knew before that not standing still could +result in such an awful happening.</p> + +<p>"I know another boy, too, who lived in—well, I won't say where, but he +lived there. He broke a fine big mirror in his father's parlor by not +standing still when he was told to."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did he shake it down?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, he didn't," returned the picture. "He just stood in front +of it and got so movey that the mirror couldn't keep up with him, but it +tried to do it so hard that it shook itself to pieces. But that wasn't +anything like as bad as what happened to Jumping Sam. He was the worst I +ever knew. He never would keep still, and it all happened and he never +could unhappen it, so that it's still so to this very day."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't told me what happened yet," said Jimmieboy, very much +interested in Jumping Sam.</p> + +<p>"Well, I will tell you," said the picture, gravely. "And this is it. The +story is a poem, Jimmieboy, and it's called:</p> + +<h4>"THE HORRID FATE OF JUMPING SAM.</h4> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Small Sammy was as fine a lad</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">As ever you did see;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">But one bad habit Sammy had,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A Jumper bold was he.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And, oh! his fate was very sad,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">As it was told to me.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"He never, never, would stand still</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">In school or on the street;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He'd squirm if he were well or ill,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">If on his back or feet.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He'd wriggle on the window-sill,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">He'd waggle in his seat.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"And so it happened one fine day,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">When all alone was he,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He got to jumping in a way</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">That was a sight to see.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He leaped two feet at first, they say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And then he made it three.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Then four, and five, the long day through,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Until he could not stop.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Each jump he jumped much longer grew,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Until he gave a hop</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Up in the air a mile or two,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A-twirling like a top.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"He turned about and tried to jump</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Back to his father's door,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">But landed by the village pump,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Some twenty miles or more</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Beyond it, and an awful bump</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He'd got when it was o'er.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"And still his jumps increased in size,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Until they got so great,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He landed on the railway ties</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">In some far distant state;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And then he knew 'twould have been wise,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">His jumping to abate.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"But as the years passed slowly by,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">His jumping still went on,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Until he leaped from Italy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">As far as Washington.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And he confessed, with heavy eye,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">It wasn't any fun.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"And when, in 1883,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">I met him up in Perth,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He wept and said 'good-by' to me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And jumped around the earth.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And I was saddened much to see</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">That he knew naught of mirth.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Last year in far Allahabad,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Late in the month of June,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">I met again this jumping lad—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">'Twas in the afternoon—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">As he with visage pale and sad</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Was jumping to the moon.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"So all his days, leap after leap,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He takes from morn to night.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He cannot eat, he cannot sleep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">But flies just like a kite,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And all because he would not keep</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">From jumping when he might.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"And I believe the moral's true—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Though shown with little skill—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">That whatsoever you may do,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Be it of good or ill,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Once in a while it may pay you</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">To practice keeping still."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>A long silence followed the completion of the blurred picture's poem. +For some reason or other it had made Jimmieboy think, and while he was +thinking, wonderful to say, he was keeping very quiet, so that it was +quite evident that the fate of Jumping Sam had had some effect upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +him. Finally, however, the spell was broken, and he began to wiggle just +as he wiggled while his picture was being taken, and then he said:</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether to believe that story or not. I can't see your +face very plainly here. Come over into the light and tell me the poem +all over again, and I can tell by looking in your eye whether it is true +or not."</p> + +<p>The picture made no reply, and Jimmieboy, grasping it firmly in his +hand, went to the window and gazed steadily at it for a minute, but it +was useless. The picture not only refused to speak, but, as the rays of +the setting sun fell full upon it, faded slowly from sight.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, true story or not, Jimmieboy has practiced standing still +very often since the affair happened, which is a good thing for little +boys to do, so that perhaps the brief life and long poem of the rejected +picture were not wasted after all.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI">XI.</a></h2> + +<h3>JIMMIEBOY AND THE BLANK-BOOK.</h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 185px;"> +<img src="images/ill_013.jpg" width="185" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">"OH! DEAR!"</span> +</div> + +<p>Somebody had sighed deeply, and had said, "Oh dear!"</p> + +<p>What bothered Jimmieboy was to find out who that somebody was. It +couldn't have been mamma, because she had gone out that evening with +papa to take dinner at Uncle Periwinkle's, and for the same reason, +therefore, it could not have been papa that had sighed and said "Oh +dear!" so plainly. Neither was it Moggie, as Jimmieboy called his nurse, +companion, and friend, because Moggie, supposing him to be asleep, had +gone up stairs to her own room to read. It might have been little Russ +if it had only been a sigh that had come to Jimmieboy's ears, for little +Russ was quite old enough to sigh; but as for adding "Oh dear!" that was +quite out of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> question, because all little Russ had ever been able +to say was "Bzoo," and, as you may have observed for yourself, people +who can only say "Bzoo" cannot say "Oh dear!"</p> + +<p>It was so mysterious altogether that Jimmieboy sat up straight on his +pillow, and began to wonder if it wouldn't be well for him to get +frightened and cry. The question was decided in favor of a shriek of +terror; but the shriek did not come, because just as Jimmieboy got his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +mouth open to utter it the strange somebody sighed again, and said:</p> + +<p>"Aren't you sorry for me, Jimmieboy?"</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" asked Jimmieboy, peering through the darkness, trying to +see who it was that had addressed him.</p> + +<p>"I'm a poor unhappy Blank-book," came the answer. "A Blank-book with no +hope now of ever becoming great. Did you ever feel as if you wanted to +become great, Jimmieboy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, indeed," returned the boy. "I do yet. I'm going to be a +fireman when I grow up, and drive an engine, and hold a hose, and put +out great configurations, as papa calls 'em."</p> + +<p>"Then you know," returned the Blank-book, "or rather you can imagine, my +awful sorrow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> when I say that I have aspired to equally lofty honors, +but find myself now condemned to do things I don't like, to devote my +life not to great and noble deeds, but to miserable every-day affairs. +You can easily see how I must feel if you will only try to imagine your +own feelings if, after a life whose every thought and effort had been +directed toward making you the proud driver of a fire-engine, you should +find it necessary to settle down to the humdrum life of a lawyer, all +your hopes destroyed, and the goal toward which you had ever striven +placed far beyond your reach."</p> + +<p>"You didn't want to be a fireman, did you?" asked Jimmieboy, softly.</p> + +<p>"No," said the Blank-book, jumping off the table, and crossing over to +Jimmieboy's crib, into which he climbed, much to the little fellow's +delight. "No, I never wanted to be a fireman, or a policeman, or a car +conductor, because I have always known that those were things I never +could become. No matter how wise and great a Blank-book may be, there is +a limit to his wisdom and his greatness. It sometimes makes us unhappy +to realize this, but after all there is plenty in the world that a +Blank-book can do, and do nobly, without envying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> others who have to do +far nobler and greater things before they can be considered famous. +Everything we have to do in this world is worth doing well, and +everybody should be content to do the things that are given to his kind +to accomplish. The poker should always try to poke as well as he can, +and not envy the garden hose because the garden hose can sprinkle +flowers, while he can't. The rake should be content to do the best +possible rake's work, and not sigh because he cannot sing 'Annie Rooney' +the way the hand-organ does."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you sigh because of the work they have given you to do?"</p> + +<p>"That's very simple," returned the Blank-book. "I can explain that in a +minute. While I have no right to envy a glue-pot because it can hold +glue and I can't, I have a right to feel hurt and envious when it falls +to the lot of another Blank-book, no better than myself, to become the +medium through which beautiful poems and lovely thoughts are given to +the world, while I am compelled to do work of the meanest kind.</p> + +<p>"It has always been my dream to become the companion of a poet, of a +philosopher, or of a humorist—to be the Blank-book of his heart—to lie +quiet in his pocket until he had thought a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> thought, and then to be +pulled out of that pocket and to be made the receptacle of that thought.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have dreamed ambitious dreams, Jimmieboy—ambitious dreams that +must now remain only dreams, and never be real. Once, as I lay with a +thousand others just like me on the shelf of the little stationery shop +where your mother bought me, I dreamed I was sold to a poet—a true +poet. Everywhere he went, went I, and every beautiful line he thought of +was promptly put down upon one of my leaves with a dainty gold pencil, +contact with which was enough to thrill me through and through.</p> + +<p>"Here is one of the things I dreamed he wrote upon my leaves:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"'What's the use of tears?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">What's the use of moping?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">What's the use of fears?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">Here's to hoping!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"'Life hath more of joy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">Than she hath of weeping.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">When grief comes, my boy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">Pleasure's sleeping.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"'Only sleeping, child;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">Thou art not forsaken,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Let thy smiles run wild—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">She'll awaken!'</span><br /> +</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't you think that's nice?" queried the Blank-book when he had +finished reciting the poem.</p> + +<p>"Very nice," said Jimmieboy. "And it's very true, too. Tears aren't any +good. Why, they don't even wash your face."</p> + +<p>"I know," returned the Blank-book. "Tears are just like rain clouds. A +sunny smile can drive 'em away like autumn leaves before a whirl-wind."</p> + +<p>"Or a clothes-line full of clothes before an east wind," suggested +Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Yes; or like buckwheat cakes before a hungry school-boy," put in the +Blank-book. "Then that same poet in my dream wrote a verse about his +little boy I rather liked. It went this way:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'Of rats and snails and puppy-dogs' tails</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Some man has said boys are made;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">But he who spoke to be truthful fails,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">If 'twas of my boy 'twas said.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'For honey, and wine, and sweet sunshine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And fruits from over the swim,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And everything else that's fair and fine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Are sure to be found in him.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'His kisses are nice and sweet as spice,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">His smile is richer than cake—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Which, if it were known to rats and mice,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">The cheeses they would forsake.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'His dear little voice is soft and choice,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He giggles all day with glee,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And it makes my heart and soul rejoice,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">To think he belongs to me.'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"That's first rate," said Jimmieboy. "Only Mother Goose has something +very much like it about little girls."</p> + +<p>"That was just it," returned the Blank-book. "She had been a little girl +herself, and she was too proud to live. If she had been a boy instead of +a girl, it would have been the boy who was made of sugar and spice and +all that's nice."</p> + +<p>"Didn't your dream-poet ever write anything funny in you?" asked +Jimmieboy. "I do love funny poems."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know whether some of the things he wrote were funny or +not," returned the Blank-book, scratching his cover with a pencil he +carried in a little loop at his side. "But they were queer. There was +one about a small boy, named Napples, who spent all his time eating +apples, till by some odd mistake he contracted an ache, and now with J. +Ginger he grapples."</p> + +<p>"That's the kind," said Jimmieboy. "I think to some people who never ate +a green apple, or tasted Jamaica ginger, or contracted an ache,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> it +would be real funny. I don't laugh at it, because I know how solemn +Tommy Napples must have felt. Did you ever have any more like that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh my, yes," returned the Blank-book. "Barrels full. This was another +one—only I don't believe what it says is true:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"A man living near Navesink,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Eats nothing but thistles and zinc,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 29em;">With mustard and glue,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 29em;">And pollywog stew,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Washed down with the best of blue ink.'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"That's pretty funny," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Is it?" queried the Blank-book, with a sigh. "I'll have to take your +word for it. I can't laugh, because I have nothing to say ha! ha! with, +and even if I could say ha! ha! I don't suppose I'd know when to laugh, +because I don't know a joke when I see one."</p> + +<p>"Really?" asked Jimmieboy, who had never supposed any one could be born +so blind that he could not at least see a joke.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/ill_014.jpg" width="300" height="150" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">"EVERYBODY LAUGHED BUT ME."</span> +</div> + +<p>"Really," sighed the Blank-book. "Why, a man came into the store where I +was for sale once, and said he wanted a Blank-book, and the clerk asked +him what for—meaning, of course, did he want an account-book, a diary, +or a copy-book.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> The man answered, 'To wash windows with, of course,' +and everybody laughed but me. I simply couldn't see the point. Can you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly," said Jimmieboy, a broad smile coming over his lips. +"It was very funny. The point was that people don't wash windows with +Blank-books."</p> + +<p>"What's funny about that?" asked the Blank-book. "It would be a great +deal funnier if people did wash windows with a Blank-book. He might have +said 'to go coasting on,' or 'to sweeten my coffee with,' or 'to send +out to the heathen,' and it would have been just as funny."</p> + +<p>"I guess that's true," said Jimmieboy. "But it was funny just the same."</p> + +<p>"No doubt," returned the Blank-book; "but it seems to me what's funny +depends on the other fellow. You might get off a splendid joke, and if +he hadn't his joke spectacles on he'd think it was nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Jimmieboy. "If he hadn't his joke spectacles on he +wouldn't think it was nonsense. Jokes are nonsense."</p> + +<p>"But you said a moment ago the fun of the Blank-book joke was that you +couldn't wash windows with one. That's a fact, so how could it be +nonsense?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I never thought of it in that way," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" ejaculated the Blank-book. "Now that is really funny, because I +don't see how you could think of it in any other way."</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything funny about that," began Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" sighed the Blank-book. "We never shall agree, except that I +am willing to believe that you know more about nonsense than I do. +Perhaps you can explain this poem to me. I dreamt my poet wrote this on +my twelfth page. It was called 'A Plane Tale:'</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'I used to be so surly, that</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">All men avoided me;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">But now I am a diplomat,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Of wondrous suavity.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'I met a carpenter one night,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Who wore a dotted vest;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And when I asked if that was right,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He told me to go West.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'I seized his saw and brandished it,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">As fiercely as I could,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And told him, with much show of wit,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">I thought he was no good.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'At that he looked me in the face,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And said my tone was gruff;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">My manner lacked a needed grace,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">In every way was rough.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'He seized and laid me on a plank,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He gave a little cough;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And then, although my spirits sank,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;"><i>He planed me wholly off</i>!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'And ever since that painful night,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">When he so treated me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">I've been as polished, smooth a wight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">As any one can be.'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"There isn't much sense in that," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I think there is," said the Blank-book. "There's a moral to +that. Two of 'em. One's mind your own business. If the carpenter wanted +to wear a dotted vest it was nobody's affair. The other moral is, a +little plane speaking goes a great way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a joke!" cried Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"I didn't make any joke," retorted the Blank-book, his Russia-leather +cover getting red as a beet.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you did, too," returned Jimmieboy. "Plane and plain—don't you +see? P-l-a-n-e and p-l-a-i-n."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/ill_015.jpg" width="300" height="187" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">"IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL A JOKE?"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Bah!" said the Blank-book. "Nonsense! That can't be a joke. That's a +coincidence. Is that what you call a joke?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," replied Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I'm not as badly off as I thought.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> I wanted to be a poet's +book and couldn't, but it is better to be used for a wash-list as I am +than to help funny men to remember stuff like that. I am very grateful +to you, Jimmieboy, for the information. You have made me see that I +might have fared worse than I have fared, and I thank you, and as I hear +your mamma and papa coming up the stairs now, I'll run back to the desk. +Good-night!"</p> + +<p>And the Blank-book kissed Jimmieboy, and scampered over to the desk as +fast as it could, and the next day Jimmieboy begged so hard for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> it that +his mamma gave it to him for his very own.</p> + +<p>"What shall you do with it now that you have it?" asked mamma.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to save it till I grow up," returned Jimmieboy. "Maybe I'll +be a poet, and I can use it to write poems in."</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII">XII.</a></h2> + +<h3>JIMMIEBOY AND THE COMET.</h3> + +<p>Jimmieboy was thinking very hard. He was also blinking quite as hard +because he was undeniably sleepy. His father had been reading something +to his mamma about a curious thing that lived up in the sky called a +comet. Jimmieboy had never seen a comet, nor indeed before that had he +even heard of one, so of course his ideas as to what it looked like were +rather confused. His father's description of it was clear enough, +perhaps, but nevertheless Jimmieboy found it difficult to conjure up in +his mind any reasonable creature that could in any way resemble a comet. +Finally, however, he made up his mind that it must look like a queer +kind of a dog with nothing but a head and a tail—or perhaps it was a +sort of fiery pollywog.</p> + +<p>At any rate, while he thought and blinked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> what should he see peeping +in at him through the window but the comet itself. Jimmieboy knew it was +the comet because the comet told him so afterward, and besides it wore a +placard suspended about its neck which had printed on it in great gold +letters: "I'm the Comet. Come out and take a ride through the sky with +me."</p> + +<p>"Me?" cried Jimmieboy, starting up as soon as he had read the +invitation.</p> + +<p>Immediately the word "Yes" appeared on the placard and Jimmieboy walked +over to the window and stepping right through the glass as though it +were just so much air, found himself seated upon the Comet's back, and +mounting to the sky so fast that his hair stood out behind him like so +many pieces of stiff wire.</p> + +<p>"Are you comfortable?" asked the Comet, after a few minutes.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jimmieboy, "only you kind of dazzle my eyes. You are so +bright."</p> + +<p>The Comet appeared to be very much pleased at this remark, for he smiled +so broadly that Jimmieboy could see the two ends of his mouth appear on +either side of the back of his neck.</p> + +<p>"You're right about that," said the Comet. "I'm the brightest thing +there ever was. I'm all the time getting off jokes and things."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you really?" cried Jimmieboy, delighted. "I am so glad, for I love +jokes and—and things. Get off a joke now, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," replied the obliging Comet. "You don't know why the moon is +called she, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Jimmieboy. "Why is it?"</p> + +<p>"Because it isn't a sun, so it must be a daughter," said the Comet. +"Isn't that funny?"</p> + +<p>"I guess so," said Jimmieboy, trying to look as if he thought the joke a +good one. "But don't you know anything funnier than that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned the Comet. "What do you think of this: What is the only +thing you can crack without splitting it?"</p> + +<p>"That sounds interesting," said Jimmieboy, "but I'm sure I never could +guess."</p> + +<p>"Why, it's a joke, of course," said the Comet. "You can crack a joke +eight times a day and it's as whole as it ever was when night comes."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "That's funnier than the other, too. I see +now why they call you a Comic."</p> + +<p>"I'm not a Comic," said the Comet, with a laugh at Jimmieboy's mistake. +"I'm a Comet. I end with a T like the days when you have dinner in the +afternoon. They end with a tea, don't they?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's the best, yet," roared Jimmieboy. "If you give me another like +that I may laugh harder and fall off, so I guess you'd better hadn't."</p> + +<p>"How would you like to hear some of my poetry?" asked the Comet. "I'm a +great writer of poetry, I can tell you. I won a prize once for writing +more poetry in an hour than any other Comet in school."</p> + +<p>"I'm very fond of it," said Jimmieboy. "Specially when it don't make +sense."</p> + +<p>"That's the kind I like, too," agreed the Comet. "I never can understand +the other kind. I've got a queer sort of a head. I can't understand +sense, but nonsense is as clear to me as—well as turtle soup. Ever see +any turtle soup?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Jimmieboy, "but I've seen turtles."</p> + +<p>"Well, turtle soup is a million times clearer than turtles, so maybe you +can get some idea of what I mean."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I think I do. Nonsense poetry is like a window +to you. You can see through it in a minute."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," said the Comet. "Only nonsense poetry hasn't any glass in it, +so it isn't exactly like a window to me after all."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow," put in Jimmieboy. "Let's have some of the poetry."</p> + +<p>"Very good," said the Comet. "Here goes. It's about an animal named the +Speeler, and it's called 'The Speeler's Lament.'</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Oh, many years ago,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">When Jack and Jill were young,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">There wandered to and fro,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Along the glistening snow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A Speeler, much unstrung.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"I asked the Speeler why</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He looked so mortal sad?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He gazed into my eye,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And then he made reply,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">In language very bad,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'I'm sad,' said he, 'because</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A Speeler true I be;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And yet, despite my jaws,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">My wings, and beak, and claws,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Despite my manners free,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'Despite my feathers fine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">My voice so soft and sweet,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">My truly fair outline,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">My very handsome spine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And massive pair of feet,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'In all this world of space—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">On foot, on fin, on wing—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">From Nature's top to base,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">There never was a trace</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">Of any such strange thing.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"'And it does seem to me—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Indeed it truly does—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">'Tis dreadful, sir, to be,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">As you can plainly see,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A thing that never was!'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"What's a Speeler?" said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"It isn't anything. There isn't any such thing as a Speeler and that's +what made this particular Speeler feel so badly," said the Comet. "I +know I'd feel that way myself. It must be dreadful to be something that +isn't. I was sorry after I had written that poem and created the poor +Speeler because it doesn't seem right to create a thing just for the +sake of making it unhappy to please people who like poetry of that +kind."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it was a sensible poem," said Jimmieboy. "Because, really, +Mr. Comet, I can't understand it."</p> + +<p>"Well, let me try you on another then, and take away the taste of that +one. How do you like this. It's called 'Wobble Doo, the Squaller.'</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"The Wobble Doo was fond of pie,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He also loved peach jam.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">But what most pleased his eagle eye,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Was pickled cakes and ham.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"But when, perchance, he got no cake,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Jam, ham, or pie at all,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">He'd sit upon a garden rake,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">And squall, and squall, and squall.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"And as these <i>never</i> came his way,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">This hero of my rhyme,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">I really do regret to say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Was squalling all the time."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Your poems are all sad, aren't they?" said Jimmieboy. "Couldn't you +have let Wobble Doo have just a little bit of cake and jam?"</p> + +<p>"No. It was impossible," replied the Comet, sadly, "I couldn't afford +it. I did all I could for him in writing the poem. Seems to me that was +enough. It brought him glory, and glory is harder to get than cakes and +peach jam ever thought of being. Perhaps you'll like this better:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Abadee sollaker hollaker moo,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Carraway, sarraway mollaker doo—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Hobledy, gobbledy, sassafras Sam,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Taramy, faramy, aramy jam."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"I don't understand it at all," said Jimmieboy. "What language is it +in?"</p> + +<p>"One I made up myself," said the Comet, gleefully. "And it's simply +fine. I call it the Cometoo language. Nobody knows anything about it +except myself, and I haven't mastered it yet—but my! It's the easiest +language in the world to write poetry in. All you have to do is to go +right ahead and make up words to suit yourself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> and finding rhyme is no +trouble at all when you do that."</p> + +<p>"But what's the good of it?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it has plenty of advantages," said the Comet, shaking his head +wisely. "In the first place if you have a language all your own, that +nobody else knows, nobody else can write a poem in it. You have the +whole field to yourself. Just think how great a man would be if he was +the only one to understand English and write poetry in it. He'd get all +the money that ever was paid for English poetry, which would be a +fortune. It would come to at least $800, which is a good deal of money, +considering."</p> + +<p>"Considering what?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Considering what it would bring if wisely invested," said the Comet. +"Did you ever think of what $800 was worth in peanuts, for instance."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy laughed at the idea of spending $800 in peanuts, and then he +said: "No, I never thought anything about it. What is it worth in +peanuts?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Comet, scratching his head with his tail, "it's a very +hard bit of arithmetic, but, I'll try to write it out for you. Peanuts, +you know, cost ten cents a quart."</p> + +<p>"Do they?" said Jimmieboy. "I never bought a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> whole quart at once. I've +only paid five cents a pint."</p> + +<p>"Well, five cents a pint is English for ten cents a quart," said the +Comet, "and in $800 there are eight thousand ten centses, so that you +could get eight thousand quarts of peanuts for $800. Now every quart of +peanuts holds about fifty peanut shellfuls, so that eight thousand +quarts of peanuts equal four hundred thousand peanuts shellfuls. Each +peanut shell holds two small nuts so that in four hundred thousand of +them there are eight hundred thousand nuts."</p> + +<p>"Phe-e-ew!" whistled Jimmieboy. "What a feast."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Comet, "but just you wait. Suppose you ate one of these +nuts a minute, do you know how long it would take you, eating eight +hours a day, to eat up the whole lot?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Jimmieboy, beginning to feel a little awed at the wondrous +possibilities of $800 in peanuts.</p> + +<p>"Four years, six months, three weeks and six days, and you'd have to eat +Sundays to get through it in that time," said the Comet. "In soda water +it would be quite as awful and in peppermint sticks at two cents a foot +it would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> bring you a stick forty thousand feet, or more than seven +miles long."</p> + +<p>"Isn't $800 wonderful," said Jimmieboy, overcome by the mere thought of +so much peppermint candy.</p> + +<p>"Yes—but really I am much more wonderful when you think of me. You +haven't been on my back more than ten minutes and yet in that time I +have taken you all around the world," said the Comet.</p> + +<p>"All the way!" said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Comet, stopping suddenly. "Here we are back at your +window again."</p> + +<p>"But I didn't see China, and I wanted to," said the boy.</p> + +<p>"Can't help it," said the Comet. "You had your chance, but you preferred +to talk about poetry and peanuts. It isn't my fault. Off with you, now."</p> + +<p>And then the Comet bucked like a wild Western Broncho, and as Jimmieboy +went over his head through the window and landed plump in his papa's +lap, the queer creature with the fiery tail flew off into space.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h2> + +<h3>JIMMIEBOY AND JACK FROST—IN WHICH JACK GIVES OFFENCE.</h3> + +<p>Jimmieboy is the proud possessor of a small brother, who, to use one of +Jimmieboy's own expressions, is getting to be a good deal of a man. That +is to say, he is old enough to go out driving all by himself, being +eleven months of age, and quite capable of managing the fiery untamed +nurse that pushes his carriage along the street. Of course, if the nurse +had not been warranted kind and gentle when the baby's mamma went to +find her in the beginning, little Russ would have had to have somebody +go along with him when he went driving—somebody like Jimmieboy, for +instance, to frighten off big dogs and policemen, and to see that the +nurse didn't shy or run away—but as it was, the baby had developed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +force of character and self-reliance enough to go out unattended, and, +except on one occasion, he got back again safe and sound.</p> + +<p>This one occasion was early in December, when Nature, having observed +that the great big boys had got through playing football and were +beginning to think of snow-balls, sent word to the Arctic Cold Weather +Company that she desired to have delivered at once five days of low +temperature for general distribution among her friends, which days were +sent through by special messenger, arriving late on the night of +December 1st, giving great satisfaction to everybody, particularly to +those who deal in ice, ear-tabs, and skates. At first Jimmieboy's mamma +thought that Nature was perhaps a little too generous with her frosty +weather, and for two days she kept her two sons, Jimmieboy and Russ, +cooped up in the house, laying in a supply of furnace and log-fire heat +sufficiently large to keep them warm until the third day, when she +thought that they might safely go out.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 213px;"> +<img src="images/ill_016.jpg" width="213" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">JIMMIEBOY PREPARED FOR COLD WEATHER.</span> +</div> + +<p>Upon the third day Jimmieboy's papa said that he imagined the boys were +warm enough to venture out-of-doors, so they were bundled up in +leggings, fur-lined coats, flannel bands, scarfs, silk handkerchiefs, +lamb's-wool rugs, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> "arctics," the door was opened, and out they +went. Jimmieboy staid out seven minutes, and then came in again to see +if he could find out why his nose had suddenly changed its color, first +from pink to red, and then from red to blue. He also wished to come in, +he said, because the solid iron driver of his red express wagon had been +"freezed stiff," and he was afraid if he staid out much longer he'd +never thaw out again. Little Russ, on the contrary, lying luxuriously in +his carriage, with no part of him visible save the tip end of his chin, +which was so fat that the coverings would slip off, no matter how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> hard +mamma and the nurse tried to make them stay on, remained out-of-doors +for two hours, apparently very comfortable. His great blue eyes shone +mirthfully when he came in, and until six o'clock that evening all went +well with him, and then he began to whimper.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with my baby?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/ill_017.jpg" width="200" height="144" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">LITTLE RUSS.</span> +</div> + +<p>Little Russ made no reply other than a grimace, which made Jimmieboy +laugh, at which the baby opened his mouth as wide as he could and +shrieked with wrath.</p> + +<p>"I'm inclined to think," said the nurse, as she sought vainly to find +where a possible pin might be creating a disturbance to the baby's +discomfiture—"I'm inclined to think that perhaps he's got a pain +somewhere."</p> + +<p>And then the youthful Russ blinked his eyes, gave another shriek, and +attempted to pout. Now it is a singular way little Russ has of pouting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +He gets it from his mamma, who used to pout in just the same way when +she was a little girl—so grandma says—and it consists entirely of +sticking his chin out as far as he can, while concealing his lower lip +as much as possible beneath the cherry-colored Cupid's bow that acts as +his upper lip. A proceeding of this sort always results in making that +chin the most conspicuous thing in the room, so that it is not +surprising that when little Russ pouted every one in the room should at +once notice that there was a great red spot upon it.</p> + +<p>"Why, the poor little soul has been frost-bitten!" cried mamma, running +for the cold cream—queer thing that, by-the-way, Jimmieboy thought. He +would have put warm cream on a cold sore like that.</p> + +<p>"So he is!" ejaculated papa, with an indignant glance at the chin, which +only caused that fat little feature to pout the more. "Hadn't I better +send for the doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Does dogs frost-bite?" queried Jimmieboy, looking around the room for a +stick with which to beat the dog that had done the biting, if perchance +it was a dog that was responsible.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said papa. "It wasn't a dog;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> it was Jack Frost, and +nobody else. He ought to be muzzled."</p> + +<p>"Who is Jack Frost, papa?" Jimmieboy asked, so much interested in Jack +that he for a moment forgot his suffering small brother.</p> + +<p>"Jack? Why, Jack is a man named Frost, who deals in cold, and he goes +around in winter biting people. He's a sort of ice-man, only he's +retired from trade, and gives things away, to people who don't want 'em. +It would be better if he'd go into business, and sell his favors to +people who do want 'em."</p> + +<p>"Well, he's a naughty man," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, he is," said papa. "Why, he's the man who withered all +your mamma's plants, and painted our nice green lawn white; and then, +when we wanted to dig holes for the fence posts, he came along and made +the ground so hard it took all the edge off the spade, and made the +hired man so tired that he overslept himself that night and let the +furnace go out."</p> + +<p>"Can't somebody catch him, and put him into prism?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's been in prism lots of times," said papa, with a laugh at +Jimmieboy's droll word; "but he manages to get out again."</p> + +<p>"Where does he live, papa?" asked the boy.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All around in winter. In summer he goes north for his health."</p> + +<p>"And can't anybody ever get rid of him?"</p> + +<p>"No. The only way to do that successfully would be to burn him out, and +so far nobody has ever been able to do it entirely. You can put him out +of your own house; but, if he wants to, he'll stay around the place and +nip your plants, and freeze up your wells, and put a web of ice on your +grass and sidewalks in spite of anything you can do."</p> + +<p>By this time little Russ had quieted down and gone to sleep. The cold +cream, aided by a huge bottleful of the food he liked best, which warmed +up his little heart and various other parts of his being, to which the +world had for a little while seemed bleak and drear, had put him in a +contented frame of mind, and if the smile on his lips meant anything he +had forgotten his woes in dreams of sweet and lovely things.</p> + +<p>It was not so, however, with Jimmieboy, who grew more and more indignant +as he thought of that great lumbering ice-man, Jack Frost, coming along +and biting his dear little brother in that cruel fashion. It was simply +cowardly, he thought. Of course Jimmieboy could understand how any one +might wish to take a bite of something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> that was as sweet as little Russ +was, and when mosquitoes did it he was not disposed to quarrel with +them, because it was courageous in a minute insect like a mosquito to +risk his life for his sweetmeats, but with Jack Frost it was different. +Why didn't he take a man of his size like papa, for instance, or the +grocer man? He was afraid to—that was it—and so he fastened upon a +poor, helpless little man like Russ, only eleven months old.</p> + +<p>"He ought to be hitted on the head," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"That wouldn't do any good," said papa. "It wouldn't hurt him a bit. You +couldn't kill him with a hundred ice-picks, and I don't believe even a +steam-drill would lay him up more than a week. What he's afraid of is +heat—only heat, and nothing else. That cracks him all up and melts him, +so that he can't bite anything."</p> + +<p>Then Jimmieboy had his supper and began playing with his toys until +bedtime should come, but all the time his mind was on that cruel Jack +Frost. Something else in the room was thinking about it, too, only +Jimmieboy didn't know it. The little gas-stove that stood guard over by +the fire-place was quite as angry about Jack's behavior as anybody, but +he kept very still until<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> along about eight o'clock when he began to +sputter.</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy stopped pushing his iron engine over the floor, and looked +with heavy eyes at the gas-stove. This was extraordinary behavior for +the stove, and Jimmieboy wondered what was the matter.</p> + +<p>"Say!" whispered the stove, as Jimmieboy looked at him. "Let's get after +that Frost fellow and make him wish he never was born."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy said nothing to this. He was too much surprised to say +anything—the idea of a gas-stove speaking to him was so absurd. He only +gazed steadfastly at the extraordinary thing in the fire-place, and then +let his head droop down on his arms as he lay on the floor, and in a +moment would have been asleep had not the stove again sputtered.</p> + +<p>"Hi! Jimmieboy!" it cried. "Don't go to sleep. I know where Jack Frost +lives, and we'll get after him and punish him for what he did to little +Russ."</p> + +<p>"How?" asked Jimmieboy, crawling across the room on his hands and knees, +and looking earnestly at this strange gas-stove.</p> + +<p>"Never mind how," returned the Stove. "I'll tell you that later. The +point is, will you go? If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> you will say the word I'll make all the +arrangements, and we'll set off after everybody has gone to bed. It is a +beautiful moonlight night. Everything is just right for a successful +trip. There's enough snow on the ground for the sleigh to move, and the +river's all frozen over except in the middle. We can skate as far as the +ice goes, and then, if there is no boat, we can put on your papa's +arctics, and walk across the water to the other side. From there it's +only a forty-minute skate to Jack's home. He'll come in about twelve +o'clock, and we'll have him just where we want him. What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be in bed by the time you want to start," said Jimmieboy. "I'd +like to do it very much, but I don't know how to dress myself, and——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind that," returned the Gas Stove. "Go as you are."</p> + +<p>"In my night-gown? On a cold night like this?" queried the little +fellow, more than ever astonished at the Gas Stove's peculiarities.</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly. I'll see that you are kept warm," returned the stove. +"I've got warmth enough for twenty-six as it is, and if there's only two +of us—why, you see how it'll be. It'll be too warm for two of us."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 280px;"> +<img src="images/ill_018.jpg" width="280" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE GAS-STOVE TAPPED HIM LIGHTLY ON THE SHOULDER.</span> +</div> + +<p>"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "I never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> thought of it that way. I might +sit on your lap if I couldn't keep warm any other way, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I've got a better way than that," said the Stove, dancing a little jig +on the tiles. "I'll get you a pair of gas gloves, some gas ear-tabs, a +patent nose furnace, an overcoat lined with gas-jets that can be lit so +as to keep you warm without burning you, and leggings, shoes, hats, and +everything you need to make you feel as happy and warm as a poached egg +on toast."</p> + +<p>"That'll be splendid," said Jimmieboy. "I'll go, and we'll fix Jack so +that he won't bite any of our people any more, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Gas Stove, delighted at the prospect.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Shall we muzzle him?" asked Jimmieboy. But the Gas Stove only winked, +for just then mamma came up stairs from dinner, and as it was +Jimmieboy's nurse's night out, his mamma undressed the little fellow, +and put him in his crib, where he shortly dropped off to sleep.</p> + +<p>In a little while everybody in the house had gone to bed, and when the +last light had been extinguished the door of the room in which Jimmieboy +slept was slowly opened, and the Gas Stove, all his lights turned down +so that nobody could see him in the darkness, tip-toed in, and climbing +upon the side of Jimmieboy's crib tapped him lightly on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"All ready?" he said, in a low whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Jimmieboy, softly, as he arose and got down on the +floor. "How do we go? Down the stairs?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied the Gas Stove. "We'll take the toy balloon up the +chimney."</p> + +<p>Which they at once proceeded to do.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV">XIV.</a></h2> + +<h3>IN WHICH JIMMIEBOY AND THE GAS STOVE MAKE A START.</h3> + +<p>"Now jump into the sleigh just as quickly as you can, Jimmieboy," said +the Stove, as they issued forth into the cold night air. "Put on that +fur cap and the overcoat, shoes, and gloves, and I'll light 'em up."</p> + +<p>"They won't burn, for sure?" queried Jimmieboy, nervously, for the idea +of wearing clothes heated by gas was a little bit terrifying.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," said the Stove in reply. "I wouldn't give 'em to you if +they would. Thanks," he added, turning and throwing a ten-cent piece to +a gas boy, who handed him the reins by which the horses were controlled. +"We'll be back about sunrise."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the boy. "Do you want me turned on all night, sir?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," answered the Stove. "Gas is expensive these days. You can turn +yourself out right away. Have you fed the horses?"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/ill_019.jpg" width="300" height="200" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">"THIS IS PRETTY FINE, EH?" SAID THE GAS-STOVE.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the boy. "They've each had four thousand feet by the +meter for supper."</p> + +<p>"Fuel or illuminating?" queried the Stove.</p> + +<p>"Illuminating," replied the boy.</p> + +<p>"Good," said the Stove. "That ought to make them bright. Good-by. Get +up!"</p> + +<p>With this the horses made a spring forward—fiery steeds in very truth, +their outlines in jets, each burning a small flame, standing out like +lines of stars in the sky.</p> + +<p>"This is pretty fine, eh?" said the Gas Stove, with a smile, which, had +any one looked, must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> have been visible for miles, so light and cheerful +was it.</p> + +<p>"Lovely!" cried Jimmieboy, almost gasping in ecstasy. "I'm just as warm +and comfortable as can be. I didn't know you had a team like this."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my boy," returned the Stove, "there's lots you don't know. For +instance:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"You don't know why a fire will burn</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">On hot days merrily;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And when the cold days come, will turn</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">As cold as I-C-E!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"You don't know why the puppies bark,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Or why snap-turtles snap;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Or why a horse runs round the park,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Because you say, 'git-ap.'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"You don't know why a peach has fuzz</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Upon its pinky cheek;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Or what the poor Dumb-Crambo does</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">When he desires to speak.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Do you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," said Jimmieboy. "But I should like to very much."</p> + +<p>"So should I," said the Stove. "We're very much alike in a great many +respects, and particularly in those in which we resemble each other."</p> + +<p>The truth of this was so evident that Jimmieboy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> could think of nothing +to say in answer to it, so he merely observed: "I'm awful hungry."</p> + +<p>This was a favorite remark of his, particularly between meals.</p> + +<p>"So am I," said the Stove. "Let's see what we've got here. Just hold the +reins while I dive down into the lunch basket."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy took the reins with some fear at first, but when he saw that +they were high up in the air where there was really nothing but a star +or two to run into, and realized that even they were millions of miles +away, he soon got used to it, and was sorry when the Stove resumed +control.</p> + +<p>"There, Jimmieboy," said the Stove, as he drew his hand out of the +basket. "There's a nice hot ginger-snap for you. I think I'll take a +snack of this fuel gas myself."</p> + +<p>"You don't eat gas, do you?" asked the small passenger.</p> + +<p>"I guess I do," ejaculated the Stove, with a smack of his lips. "As our +Gas Poet Laureate said:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"Oh, kerosene</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Is good, I ween,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And so is apple sass;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">But bring for me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Oh, chickadee,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">A bowl of fuel gas!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"Some persons like</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">The red beefstike,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">The cow just dotes on grass—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">But to my mind</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">No one can find</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">More toothsome things than gas.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"And so I say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Bring me no hay;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">No roasted deep-sea bass.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Bring me no pease,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Or fricassees,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">If, haply, you have gas."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"It's easy to eat, too," added the Stove. "In fact, I heard your papa say +we consumed too much of it one day when he'd got his bill from the gas +butcher."</p> + +<p>"Do you chew it?" asked Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. We take it in through a pipe. It isn't like soup or meat, +though I sometimes think if people could take soup out of a pipe instead +of from a spoon they'd look handsomer while they were eating. But the +great thing about it is it's always ready, and if it comes cold, all you +have to do is to touch a match to it, and it gets as hot as you could +want."</p> + +<p>"I should think you'd get tired of it," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. There's a great variety in gases.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> There's fuel gas, +illuminating gas, laughing gas, attagas——"</p> + +<p>"What's that last?" queried Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Attagas? Why, when we want a game dinner, we have attagas. If you will +look it up in the dictionary you will find that it's a sort of +partridge. It's mighty good, too, with a sauce of stewed gasberries, and +a mug or two of gasparillo to wash it down."</p> + +<p>Here Jimmieboy smacked his lips. Gasparillo truly sounded as if it might +be very delightful, though I don't myself believe it is any less bitter +to the taste than some other barks of trees, such as quinine, for +instance.</p> + +<p>"Howdy do?" said the Stove, with a familiar nod to the east of them.</p> + +<p>"Howdy do!" replied Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't speaking to you," said the Stove, with a laugh. "I was only +nodding to an old friend of mine; he's got a fine place up in the sky +there. His name is Sirius. They call him the dog-star, and all he has to +do is twinkle. You can't see him all the time from your house, but when +you get up as high as this he stands right out and twinkles at you. +Pretty good fellow, Sirius is. I might have had his place, but somehow +or other I prefer to work in-doors and rest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> nights. Sirius is out all +the time, and has to keep awake all night. But we've got to get down to +the earth again. Here's where we take to the skates."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy looked over the edge of the sleigh as the horses turned in +response to a movement of the reins, and started down to earth. He saw a +great white river below him, flowing silently along a narrow winding +channel, everything on the border of which seemed bathed in silver +except the middle of the river itself, a strip of forty or fifty feet in +width, which was not frozen over.</p> + +<p>"That's Frostland," whispered the Gas Stove. "We can't get over to the +other side with this team because they are very skittish, and if the +sleigh were overturned and our ammunition lost we should be lost +ourselves. We've got to land directly below where we are now, skate to +the edge of the ice on this bank, row over to the other, and then skate +again directly to the palace. We mustn't let anybody know who we really +are, either, or we may have trouble, and we want to avoid that; for you +know, Jimmieboy,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"The man who gets along without</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A care or bit of strife,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Is certain sure, beyond all doubt,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">To lead a happy life."</span><br /> +</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I can't skate," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"You can slide, can't you?" asked the Stove.</p> + +<p>"Yes, both ways. Standing up and sitting down."</p> + +<p>"Well, my patent steam skates, operated by gas, will attend to all the +rest if you will only stand up straight," returned the Stove, and the +sleigh dropped lightly down to the earth, and the two crusaders against +Jack Frost alighted.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it beautiful here?" said Jimmieboy, as he looked about him and +saw superb tall trees, their leaves white and glistening in the +moonlight, bound in an icy covering that kept them always as he saw them +then. "And look at the flowers," he added, joyously, as he caught sight +of a bed of rose-bushes, only the flowers were lustrous as silver and of +the same dazzling whiteness.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Gas Stove, sadly. "Every time Jack Frost withers a +flower or a plant he brings it here, and it remains forever as you see +them now; he has had the choice of the most beautiful things in the +world. But come, we must hurry. Put on these skates."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy did as he was told, and then the Stove lit a row of small jets +of gas along the steel runners of the skates, and they grew warm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> to +Jimmieboy's feet, and in a moment little puffs of steam issued forth +from them, and Jimmieboy began to move, slowly at first, and then more +and more quickly, until he was racing at breakneck speed.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Stovey!" he cried, very much alarmed to find himself speeding off +through this strange country all alone. "Hurry up and catch me, or I'll +be out of sight."</p> + +<p>"Keep on," hallooed the Stove in return. "Don't bother about me. I've +got four feet to your two, and I can go twice as fast as you do. Keep on +straight ahead, and I'll be up with you in a minute—just as soon as I +can get the ammunition and my hose out."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what he's going to do with the hose?" Jimmieboy asked himself. +The Stove was too far behind him for the little skater to ask him.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 231px;"> +<img src="images/ill_020.jpg" width="231" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">"HALT!" CRIED A VOICE IN FRONT.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Halt!" cried a voice in front of Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"I can't," gasped the little fellow, very much frightened, for as he +gazed through the darkness to see who it was that addressed him, he +perceived a huge snow man standing directly in his path.</p> + +<p>"You must," cried the Snow Man, opening his mouth and breathing forth an +icy blast that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> nearly froze the water in Jimmieboy's eyes. "You shall!" +he added, opening his arms wide, so that before he knew it Jimmieboy was +precipitated into them.</p> + +<p>"See?" said the Snow Man. "I can compel y—"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 229px;"> +<img src="images/ill_021.jpg" width="229" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE SNOW MAN.</span> +</div> + +<p>The Snow Man never got any further with this remark, for in a moment +Jimmieboy passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> straight through him. The heat of Jimmieboy's clothes +had melted a hole through the Snow Man, and as the small skater turned +to look at his adversary he saw him standing there, his head, his sides, +and legs still intact, but from his waist down all the middle part of +him had disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! How sad," Jimmieboy said.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," responded a voice beside him. "It serves him right; he's +the meanest Snow Man that ever lived. If you hadn't melted him he'd have +turned himself into an avalanche, and then you'd have been buried so +deep in snow and ice you'd never have got out."</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" queried Jimmieboy, with a startled glance in the +direction whence the voice seemed to come.</p> + +<p>"Only what you hear," replied the voice. "I am a voice. Jack Frost froze +the rest of me and carted it away, and left me here for the rest of my +life."</p> + +<p>"What were you?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot remember," said the voice. "I may have been anything you can +think of. You could stand there and call me all the names you chose, and +I couldn't deny that I was any of them.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Sometimes I think I may have been</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A piece of apple pie;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Perhaps a great and haughty queen,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Perhaps a gaily dressed marine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">In former days was I.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"I may have been a calendar,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">To tell some man the date;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">I may have been a railway car,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">A rocket or a shooting star,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Or e'en a roller skate.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"I may have been a jar of jam,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Perhaps a watch and chain;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">I may have been a boy named Sam,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">An oyster or a toothsome clam,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Perhaps a weather vane.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"I may have been a pot of ink,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">A sloop or schooner yacht;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">I may have been the missing link,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">But <i>what</i> I was I cannot think—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">For I have quite forgot.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"All I know is that I was something once; that Jack Frost came along and +caught me and added me to his collection of curiosities, where I have +been ever since. They call me the invisible chatter-box, and tell +visitors that I escaped from the National Vocabulary at Washington."</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry for you," said Jimmieboy, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"You needn't be," said the voice. "I'm happy!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> I'm the only curiosity +here that can be impudent to King Jack. I can say what I please, you +know, and there's no way of punishing me; I'm like a newspaper in that +respect. I can go into any home, high or low, say what I please, and +there you are. Nobody can hurt me at all. Oh, it's just immense. I play +all sorts of tricks on Jack, too. I get right up in front of his mouth +and talk ridiculous nonsense, and people think he says it. Why, only the +other night a Snow Man I don't like went in to see Jack, and Jack liked +him tremendously, too, and was really glad to see him; but before the +King had a chance to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> say a word I hallooed out: 'Get out of here, you +donkey. Go make snow-balls of your head and throw them at yourself;' and +the Snow Man thought Jack said it, and, do you know, he went outside and +did it. He's been laid up ever since."</p> + +<p>"I think that was a very mean thing to do," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"I'd agree with you if I had any conscience, but alas! they've deprived +me of that too," sighed the voice. "But look out," it added, hastily. +"Throw yourself into that snow-bank or you'll fall into the river."</p> + +<p>Without waiting to think why, Jimmieboy obeyed the voice and threw +himself headlong into a huge snow bank at his side, and glanced +anxiously about him.</p> + +<p>He was indeed, as the voice had said, on the very edge of the ice, and +another yard's advance would have landed him head over heels in the +rushing water.</p> + +<p>"That would have been awful, wouldn't it?" he said to the Stove, as his +little friend came up.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it would," returned the Stove. "It would have put out the lights +in your clothes, and that would have been very awful, for I find we have +come away without any matches. Jump into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> boat, now, and row as +straight for the other side as you can."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy looked about him for a boat, but couldn't see one.</p> + +<p>"There is no boat," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is—jump!" cried the Stove.</p> + +<p>And Jimmieboy jumped, and, strange to relate, found himself in an +instant seated amidships in an exquisitely light row-boat made entirely +of ice.</p> + +<p>"Row fast, now," said the Stove. "If you don't the boat will melt before +we can get across."</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV">XV.</a></h2> + +<h4>IN THE HEART OF FROSTLAND.</h4> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">"We're afloat!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 29em;">We're afloat!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 28em;">In our trim ice-boat;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 29em;">And we row—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 29em;">Yeave ho!</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"I guess I won't sing any more," said the Gas Stove. "It's a hard song +to sing, that is, particularly when you've never heard it before, and +can't think of another rhyme for boat."</p> + +<p>"That's easy enough to find," returned Jimmieboy, pulling at the oars. +"Coat rhymes with boat, and so do note and moat and goat and——"</p> + +<p>"Very true," assented the Stove, "but it wouldn't do to use coat because +we take our coats off when we row. Note is good enough but you don't +have time to write one when you are singing a sea-song. Moat isn't any +good, because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> nobody'd know whether you meant the moat of a castle, a +sun-moat, or the one in your eye. As for goats, goats don't go well in +poetry. So I guess it's just as well to stop singing right here."</p> + +<p>"How fast we go!" said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"What did you expect?" asked the Stove. "The bottom of this boat is as +slippery as can be, and, of course, going up the river against the +current we get over the water faster than if we were going the other way +because we—er—because we—well because we do."</p> + +<p>"Seems to me," said Jimmieboy, "I'd better turn out some of the gas in +my coat. I'm melting right through the seat here."</p> + +<p>"So am I," returned the Stove, with an anxious glance at the icy craft. +"It won't be more than a minute before I melt my end of the boat all to +pieces. I'm afraid we'll have to take to our arctics after all. I +brought a pair of your father's along, and it's a good thing for us that +he has big feet, for you'll have to get in one and I in the other."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 203px;"> +<img src="images/ill_022.jpg" width="203" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">"GOLOSH, AHOY!"</span> +</div> + +<p>Just then the stern of the boat melted away, and the Stove, springing up +from his seat and throwing himself into one of the arctics, with his +ammunition and rubber hose, floated off. Jimmieboy had barely time to +get into the other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> arctic when his end of the ice-boat also gave way, +and a cross-current in the stream catching the arctic whirled it about +and carried it and its little passenger far away from the Stove who +shortly disappeared around a turn in the river, so that Jimmieboy was +left entirely alone in utter ignorance as to where he really was or what +he should do next. Generally Jimmieboy was a very brave little boy, but +he found his present circumstances rather trying. To be floating down a +strange river in a large overshoe, with absolutely no knowledge of the +way home, and a very dim notion only as to how he had managed to get +where he was, was terrifying, and when he realized his position, great +tears fell from Jimmieboy's eyes, freezing into little pearls of ice +before they landed in the bottom of the golosh, where they piled up so +rapidly that the strange craft sank further and further into the water +and would certainty have sunk with their weight had not the voice +Jimmieboy had encountered a little while before come to his rescue.</p> + +<p>"Golosh, ahoy!" cried the voice. "Captain! Captain! Lean over the side +and cry in the river or you'll sink your boat."</p> + +<p>The sound of the voice was a great relief to the little sailor who at +once tried to obey the order<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> he had received but found it unnecessary +since his tears immediately dried up.</p> + +<p>"Come out here in the boat with me!" cried Jimmieboy. "I'm awful +lonesome and I don't know what to do."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then there is only one thing you can do," said the voice from a point +directly over the buckle of the arctic. "And that is to sit still and +let time show you. It's a great thing, Jimmieboy, when you don't know +what to do and can't find any one to tell you, to sit down and do +nothing, because if you did something you'd be likely to find out +afterwards that it was the wrong thing. When I was young, in the days +when I was what I used to be, I once read a poem that has lingered with +me ever since. It was called 'Wait and See' and this is the way it went:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"When you are puzzled what to do,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And no one's nigh to help you out;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">You'll find it for the best that you</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Should wait until Time gives the clew.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And then your business go about—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Of this there is no doubt.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Just see the cow! She never knows</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">What's going to happen next, so she</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Contented 'mongst the daises goes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">In clover from her head to toes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">From care and trouble ever free—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">She simply waits, you see!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"The horse, unlike the cow, in fear</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Jumps to and fro at maddest rate,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 25em;">Tears down the street, doth snort and rear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And knocks the wagon out of gear—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And just because he does not wait,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">His woes accumulate.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"D. Crockett, famous in the past,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">The same sage thought hath briefly wed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">To words that must forever last,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Wherever haply they be cast:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">'Be sure you're right, then go ahead,'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"That's what D. Crockett said.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Lots in that. If you don't know what to do," continued the voice, "don't +do it."</p> + +<p>"I won't," said Jimmieboy. "But do you know where we are?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the voice. "I am here and you are there, and I think if we +stay just as we are forever there is not likely to be any change, so why +repine? We are happy."</p> + +<p>Just then the golosh passed into a huge cavern, whose sides glistened +like silver, and from the roof of which hung millions of beautiful and +at times fantastically shaped icicles.</p> + +<p>"This," said the voice, "is the gateway to the Kingdom of Frostland. At +the far end you will see a troop of ice soldiers standing guard. I doubt +very much if you can get by them, unless you have retained a great deal +of that heat you had. How is it? Are you still lit?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am," said Jimmieboy. "Just put your hand on my chest and see how hot +it is."</p> + +<p>"Can't do it," returned the voice, "for two reasons. First, I haven't a +hand to do it with, and secondly, if I had, I couldn't see with it. +People don't see with their hands any more than they sing with their +toes; but say, Jimmieboy, wouldn't it be funny if we could do all those +things—eh? What a fine poem this would be if it were only sensible:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">"A singular song having greeted my toes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">I stared till I weakened the sight of my nose</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">To see what it was, and observed a sweet voice</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">Come forth from the ears of Lucinda, so choice.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">"I cast a cough-drop in the lovely one's eyes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">Who opened her hands in a tone of surprise,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">And remarked, in a way that startled my wife,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">'I never was treated so ill in my life.'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">"Then tears in a torrent coursed over her arms,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">And the blush on her teeth much heightened her charms.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">As, tossing the cough-drop straight back, with a sneeze,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">She smashed the green goggles I wear on my knees."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy laughed so long and so loudly at this poetical effusion that +he attracted the attention of the guards, who immediately loaded their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +guns and began to pepper the invaders with snow-balls.</p> + +<p>"Throw yourself down on your stomach in the toe of the golosh," +whispered the voice, "and they'll never know you are there. Keep +perfectly quiet, and when any questions are asked, even if you are +discovered, let me answer them. I can disguise myself so that they won't +recognize me, and they'll think I'm your voice. In this way I think I +can get you through in safety."</p> + +<p>So Jimmieboy threw himself down in the golosh, and the voice began to +sing.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"No, no, my dear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">I do not fear</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">The devastating snow-ball;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">When it strikes me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">I shriek with glee,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And eat it like a dough-ball."</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/ill_023.jpg" width="300" height="255" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">"HALT!" CRIED THE ICE-GUARDS.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Halt!" cried the ice-guards. "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am a haunted overshoe," replied the voice. "I am on the foot of a +phantom which only appears at uncertain hours, and is consequently now +invisible to you.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"And, so I say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Oh, fire away,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">I fear ye not, icicles;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Howe'er ye shoot,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">I can't but hoot,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Your act so greatly tickles."</span><br /> +</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Shall we let it through?" asked the Captain of the guards.</p> + +<p>"I move we do," said one High Private.</p> + +<p>"I move we don't," said another.</p> + +<p>"All in favor of doing one thing or the other say aye," cried the +Captain.</p> + +<p>"Aye!" roared the company.</p> + +<p>"Contrary-minded, no," added the Captain.</p> + +<p>"No!" roared the company.</p> + +<p>"Both motions are carried," said the Captain. "We will now adjourn for +luncheon."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>The overshoe, meanwhile, had floated on down through the gates and was +now out of the guards' sight and Jimmieboy sprang to his feet and looked +about him once more, and what he saw was so beautiful that he sat +speechless with delight. He was now in the heart of Frostland, and +before him loomed the Palace, a marvelously massive pile of richly +carven ice-blocks transparent as glass; and within, seated upon a throne +of surpassing brilliance and beauty, sat King Jack surrounded by his +courtiers, who were singing songs the like of which Jimmieboy never +before had heard.</p> + +<p>"Now remember, Jimmieboy," said the voice, as the overshoe with its +passengers floated softly up to the huge snow-pier that ran out into the +river at this point where they disembarked—"remember I am to do all the +talking. Otherwise you might get into trouble."</p> + +<p>"All right, Voicy," began Jimmieboy, and then there came a terrific +shout from within.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 212px;"> +<img src="images/ill_024.jpg" width="212" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">"WHO COMES HERE?"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Who comes here?" cried King Jack, rising from his throne and pointing +his finger at Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"I am a traveling minstrel," Jimmieboy seemed to reply though in reality +it was the kind-hearted voice that said it. "And I have come a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> thousand +and six miles, eight blocks, fourteen feet, six inches to recite to your +Majesty a poem I have written in honor of your approaching Jubilee."</p> + +<p>"Have I a Jubilee approaching?" roared Jack, turning to his Secretary of +State, who was so startled that his right arm melted.</p> + +<p>"Y—yes, your Majesty," stammered the Secretary, with a low bow. "It is +coming along at the rate of sixty seconds a minute."</p> + +<p>"Why have I not been informed of this before?" roared Jack, casting a +glance at the cowering Secretary that withered the nose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> straight off +his face. "Don't you know that Jubilees are useful to a man only because +other people give him presents in honor of the event? And here you've +kept me in ignorance of the fact all this time, and the chances are I +won't get a thing;—for I've neglected my relatives dreadfully."</p> + +<p>"Sire," pleaded the Secretary, "all that you say is true, but I have +attended to all that. I have informed your friends that the Jubilee is +coming, and they are all preparing pleasant little surprises for you. We +are going to give your Majesty a surprise party, which is the finest +kind of a party, because you don't have to go home after it is over, and +the guests bring their own fried oysters, and pay all the bills."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Jack, melting a little. "You are a good man, after all. I +will raise your salary, and send your children a skating-pond on +Christmas day; but when is this Jubilee to take place?"</p> + +<p>"In eight hundred and forty-seven years," returned the voice, who did +not like the Secretary of State, and wanted to get him in trouble. "On +the eighty-second day of July."</p> + +<p>"What—a—at?" roared the King, glaring at the Secretary.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I didn't say a word, sire," cried the unfortunate Secretary.</p> + +<p>"No?" sneered Jack. "I suppose it was I that answered my own question, +eh? That settles you. The idea of my waiting eight hundred and +forty-seven years for a Jubilee that is to take place on an impossible +date! Executioner, take the Secretary of State out to the furnace-room, +and compel him to sit before the fire until there's only enough of him +left to make one snow-ball. Then take that and throw it at the most +decrepit hack-driver in my domain. The humiliation of this delayer of +Jubilees must be complete."</p> + +<p>The Secretary of State was then led weeping away, and Jack, turning to +the awed Jimmieboy, shouted out:</p> + +<p>"Now for the minstrel. If the poem pleaseth our Royal Coolness, the +singer shall have the position made vacant by that unfortunate +snow-drift I have just degraded. Step right up, young fellow, and turn +on the poem."</p> + +<p>"Step up to the foot of the throne and make a bow, and leave the rest to +me," whispered the voice to Jimmieboy. "All you've got to do is to move +your lips and wave your arms. I'll do the talking."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy did as he was bade. He took up his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> stand before the throne, +bowed, and the voice began to declaim as Jimmieboy's lips moved, and his +arms began to shoot out, first to the left and then to the right.</p> + +<p>"This poem," said the voice, "is in the language of the Snortuguese, and +has been prepared at great expense for this occasion, fourteen gallons +of ink having been consumed on the first stanza alone, which runs as +follows:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"Jack Frigidos,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Jack Frigidos,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Oh, what a trope you are!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">How you do shine</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">And ghibeline,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And conjugate afar!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"It begins very well, oh, minstrel!" said Jack, with an approving nod. +"The ink was well expended. Mount thee yon table, and from thence +deliver thyself of the remnant of thy rhyme."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," returned the voice; "I will."</p> + +<p>"Get up on the table, Jimmieboy," the voice added, "and we'll finish 'em +off there. Be a little slow about it, for I've got to have time to +compose the rest of the poem."</p> + +<p>So Jimmieboy clambered up the leg of the table, and in a few moments was +ready for the voice to begin, which the voice proceeded to do.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I will repeat the first verse, your Majesty, for the sake of +completeness. And here goes:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"Jack Frigidos,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Jack Frigidos,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Oh, what a trope you are!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">How you do shine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">And ghibeline,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And conjugate afar!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"How debonair</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Is thy back hair;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Thy smile how contraband!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Would I could ape</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Thy shapely shape,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And arrogate thy hand!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"That nose of thine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">How superfine!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">How pertinent thy chin.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">How manifest</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">The palimpsest</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And contour of thy shin!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"How ormolu</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Thy revenue!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">How dusk thy silhouette!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">How myrtilly</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Thy pedigree</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Doth grace thine amulet!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"What man is there,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Ay, anywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 26em;">What mortal chanticleer,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Can fail to find</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Unto his mind</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Thy buxom bandolier!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"Ah, Frigidos!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Jack Frigidos,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">In parcel or in keg,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Another like</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Thee none can strike</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 26em;">From Dan to Winnipeg."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Here the voice paused.</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" queried Jack Frost.</p> + +<p>"It is all I have written up to this moment," the voice answered. "Of +course there are seventy or eighty more miles of it, because, as your +Majesty is well aware, it would take many a league of poetry fitly to +commemorate your virtues."</p> + +<p>"Your answer is pleasing unto me," replied the monarch of Frostland, +when the voice had thus spoken. "The office of the Secretary of State is +yours. The salary is not large, but the duties are. They are to consist +mainly of——"</p> + +<p>Here the King was interrupted by a tremendous noise without. Evidently +some one was creating a disturbance, and as Jimmieboy turned to see what +it was, he saw the great ice mountain looming up over the far-distant +horizon melt slowly away and dwindle out of sight; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> then messengers, +breathless with haste, rushed in and cried out to the King:</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/ill_025.jpg" width="300" height="139" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE GAS-STOVE DESTROYING FROSTLAND.</span> +</div> + +<p>"We are attacked! we are attacked! A tribe from a far country, commanded +by the Gas Stove, is even now within our boundaries, armed with a +devastating hose, breathing forth fire, by which already has been +destroyed the whole western frontier."</p> + +<p>"What is to be done?" cried Jack, in alarm, and springing to his feet. +"Can we not send a regiment of cold winds out against them, and freeze +them to their very marrows and blow out the gas?"</p> + +<p>"We cannot, sire," returned the messenger, "for the heat is so deadly +that the winds themselves thaw into balmy zephyrs before they reach the +enemy."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not so!" cried the voice from Jimmieboy's lips. "For I will save you if +you will place the matter in my hands."</p> + +<p>"Noble creature!" sobbed Jack, grasping Jimmieboy by the hand. "Save my +kingdom from destruction, and all that you ask of me in the future is +yours."</p> + +<p>And Jimmieboy, promising to help Jack, started out, clad with all the +authority of his high office, to meet the Gas Stove.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI">XVI.</a></h2> + +<h3>THE END OF THE STORY.</h3> + +<p>AS Jimmieboy proceeded along the icy road he observed that everything +was beginning to thaw, and then, peering as far into the distance as he +could, he saw a great flame burning fiercely and scorching everything +with which it came in contact. It was quite evident that the Gas Stove +had brought with him the most effective ammunition possible for his +purposes.</p> + +<p>"I don't see exactly how he does it," said the newly appointed Secretary +of State, as he ran hurriedly toward the devastating fire.</p> + +<p>"Easy enough," returned the voice. "He has brought along a large +quantity of gas and a garden hose, and he has turned on the gas just as +you would turn on water, lit it, and there you are. There is absolutely +no withstanding him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> and unless he can be induced to stop very shortly, +he'll destroy this whole kingdom, and we'll have nothing but a desert +ocean; and I can tell you, Jimmieboy, a desert ocean where there is +nothing but water is worse than a desert desert where there is nothing +but sand."</p> + +<p>"It seems almost a pity to destroy such a beautiful place as this," said +Jimmieboy, looking about him, taking note of the great tall ice-covered +trees and the frost flowers and grasses at the road-side. "But, you +know, Jack Frost bit my little brother, which was very cowardly of him, +and that's why the Gas Stove and I have come here to fight."</p> + +<p>"I think you are wrong there," said the voice. "I don't believe Jack any +more than kissed him; but if he did bite him, it was because he loved +him."</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy had never thought of it in that light before. All he knew was +that whatever Jack Frost had done, it had brought tears to little Russ's +eyes and woe to his heart.</p> + +<p>"It's rather a funny way to show love to bite a person," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Just let me ask you a few questions," said the voice. "Do you like +cherries and peaches?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, don't I!" cried Jimmieboy, smacking his lips. "I just dote on 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Then," said the voice,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Why do you bite the cherry sweet?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Why in the peach do your teeth meet?"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Never thought of it that way," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"I suppose not," returned the voice. "Are you fond of apples and +gingerbread?"</p> + +<p>"Well, rather!" ejaculated Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Then tell me this," asked the voice:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Why do you gnaw the apple red?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Why do you chew your gingerbread?"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Because I like 'em," returned Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">"Why do you crunch your taffy brown?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Why do you nibble your jumble down?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Why do you munch your candy ball?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Why do you chew at all—at all?"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>continued the voice.</p> + +<p>"To make things last longer. 'Tain't proper to gulp 'em all down at +once," answered Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"And that's why Jack Frost bit little Russ," asserted the voice. "In the +first place, he loved him. Little Russ was to him as sweet as a cherry +is to you. In the second place, he took a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> little wee bite, because it +wasn't proper to gulp him all down. To-morrow that bite spot will be +well, and little Russ will be none the worst for it. Now I don't see why +you should want to ruin all this beautiful country just for that. It +isn't a crime to love babies or to eat cherries."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "But Jack Frost has done other things. He +killed a lot of mamma's flowers."</p> + +<p>"No, he didn't," returned the voice. "Your mamma left 'em out-doors all +night, and Jack came along and did just what the bees do. He took all +the sweetness he could find out of 'em, and brought them here, where he +planted them and made them appear like flowers of silver. You see what +the heat down there is doing?"</p> + +<p>Jimmieboy looked, and saw the icy covering melting off the flowers and +trees, and as the silver coating fell away they would wave softly in the +balmy air for a moment, and then wither and crumble away.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that too bad?" he said.</p> + +<p>"It is, indeed," replied the voice. "Those flowers and trees would have +stood and lived on forever in their ice coats—ever fresh, ever happy. +The warmth from the invader's fire gives them one glad mad moment of +ecstasy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> and then they wither away, and are lost forever. Is that worth +while, my boy?"</p> + +<p>The voice quivered a little as it uttered these words, and Jimmieboy +felt tears rising in his own eyes too. Jack Frost was not so bad a +fellow, after all, as he had been made out.</p> + +<p>"But he made our hired man's back ache when he went to dig some holes +for the fence posts," said Jimmieboy, who now felt that he should have +some excuse for his presence in Frostland, and on a mission of +destruction. "Was that right of him?"</p> + +<p>"Even if it was his fault, it was right," said the voice. "I don't +believe it was his fault, though. Hired men have a way of having +back-ache when there's lots to do. But supposing Jack did give it to +him. That hired man was taking a spade and scarring Mother Earth with +its sharp edge. Jack Frost gets all that he has from Mother Earth. She +has given him work to do—work that has made him what he is—and it was +his duty to protect her."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know what to do," said Jimmieboy, beginning to sob. "I +came here for revenge, and I don't think——"</p> + +<p>"There is only one thing for you to do, be true to those who trust you," +said the voice. "Now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> who trusts you? Your nurse doesn't—she wouldn't +let you out of her sight. Your papa believes in you, but he never would +have intrusted such a mission as this to your hands; nor would your +mamma or little Russ. On the other hand, Jack Frost has made you +Secretary of State, and you promised to help him in this dreadful +trial—<i>he trusts you</i>. As the poem says,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">"E'en though it's sure to take and bust you,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 23em;">Be ever true to them that trust you."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"I'll save them," said Jimmieboy. And then he started off on a run down +the road, and ere long stood face to face with the Gas Stove. The latter +immediately threw down his hose, turned off the gas, and clasped +Jimmieboy to his heart.</p> + +<p>"Saved! Saved!" he cried. "I have found you at last. Dear me, how +anxious I have been about you!" And then he burst out in song:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"But now, O joy?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">My averdupoy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Will steadily increase;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">For, now you're back,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">My woes will pack</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Their clothes in their valise,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"And fly afar,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">To the uttermost star</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 25em;">That shines up in the skies,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">While you and I</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Will warble high</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The gleesomest of cries.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"We'll sing and sing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">And warble and sing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And warble, and sing, and sing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">And warble and sing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">And sing, sing, sing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And warble and sing, sing, sing,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Come off!" ejaculated the voice. "That's mighty poor poetry for a Stove +that's as glad as you are."</p> + +<p>"Why, Jimmieboy, you pain me," said the Gas Stove, who thought that it +was his little friend that had spoken. "I didn't think you would +criticize my song of happiness that way."</p> + +<p>"I never said a word," said Jimmieboy. "It was my friend the voice, who +helped me when I was in trouble, and——"</p> + +<p>"And by whose efforts," interrupted the voice, "our Jimmieboy here is +now the Right Honorable Jamesboy. Secretary of State to his Majesty the +Emperor of Frostland, Prince of Iceberg, Marquis Thawberry, and Chief +Ice-cream Freezer to all the crowned heads of Europe, Asia, Africa, +Austrilia and New Jersey. I'd advise you to take off your hat, Mr. +Stove, for you are in the presence of a great man."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, no," cried Jimmieboy, as the Gas Stove doffed his iron lid; "don't +take off your hat to me, Stovey. I am all that he says, but I am still +Jimmieboy, and your friend."</p> + +<p>"But what becomes of your war?" queried the Gas Stove, ruefully. "I +can't fight against you, and you are a part of the government."</p> + +<p>"That's a very sensible conclusion," said the voice. "Only I wouldn't +let King Jack know that, or he wouldn't ever let Jimmieboy go away from +here. What you want to do is to make terms that will be satisfactory to +both parties, get Jack Frost to agree to 'em, and there you are. If he +won't agree, the Gas Stove will have to go on with the war until he does +agree."</p> + +<p>"That's the thing to do, I suppose," said the Stove. "What shall I +insist upon, Mr. Secretary?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I think Jack ought to quit biting babies, no matter if he does +love 'em," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"I insist upon it," said the Gas Stove, firmly.</p> + +<p>"I think, too," said Jimmieboy, "that he ought not to run off with so +many flowers."</p> + +<p>"If you do not agree to that, Mr. Secretary," returned the Stove, "I +shall turn on my canned devastation again."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I shall endeavor to secure the King's consent," replied Jimmieboy. +"And, furthermore, he must keep away from the water-pipes in my papa's +house. He froze 'em all up last winter."</p> + +<p>"That is my ultimatum," said the Stove.</p> + +<p>"Your what?" queried Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"My last word," explained the Stove.</p> + +<p>"It's long enough to have been a half-dozen of your last words," laughed +the voice. "But is that all you're to agree upon?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know of anything more," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"Nor I," said the Stove.</p> + +<p>"You're a mean couple," ejaculated the voice, angrily. "If I had my way, +you'd do something for one who has served you when you were in trouble," +he added, addressing Jimmieboy. "Where would you have been if it hadn't +been for—for—well, for a friend of mine?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know who you mean," said Jimmieboy.</p> + +<p>"He wants something for himself," whispered the Gas Stove, "and he is +right."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't know who I mean, eh?" sneered the voice. And then he +added:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"Who saved you from the icy sea.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">And brought you through S-A-F-E?</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 35em;">Why, ME!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"Who thought about that jubilee,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">And filled Jack Frost chock up with glee?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 35em;">Why, ME!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"Who all your goings did o'ersee,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">And got this lofty place for thee?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 35em;">Why, ME!</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"That's who. Now what are you going to do about it?"</p> + +<p>"He's going back to Jack Frost," said the Gas Stove, "and he is going to +demand that you shall be made Secretary of State in his place, and he is +going to tell Jack that if he ever removes you from that position I +shall return and destroy the country."</p> + +<p>"You are very moderate in your demands," said the voice. "I think King +Jack will be very foolish if he refuses to accede to them, particularly +that one having reference to myself. I do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> not care for the office, of +course, but since there seems to be a demand for me, I shall accept."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 290px;"> +<img src="images/ill_026.jpg" width="290" height="300" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE GAS-STOVE IS INTRODUCED TO THE KING.</span> +</div> + +<p>So Jimmieboy, followed by the Gas Stove and the voice, returned to the +palace, and the demands of the Stove were laid before the monarch.</p> + +<p>"I'll agree to 'em all gladly," said he, "save that which forces me to +deprive myself of your valuable services. Was he quite firm about that?"</p> + +<p>"He was!" shouted the voice, before Jimmieboy could speak.</p> + +<p>Here somebody else in the distance seemed to call: "Jimmieboy! Hi! +Jimmieboy!"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Shall I accede or stand by you?" asked Jack, taking Jimmieboy by the +hand.</p> + +<p>"You'd better accede," said Jimmieboy, looking around to see who was +calling him, "for I have just heard some one calling me—my papa, I +think—and I guess it's time for me to get up."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/ill_027.jpg" width="300" height="231" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE GAS-STOVE BURNING MERRILY AND WINKING AT HIM FROM THE +FIREPLACE.</span> +</div> + +<p>What Jack's response to this curious remark would have been no one +knows, for just then a most strange thing took place. Jack Frost and his +palace in an instant faded completely from view, and Jimmieboy in +surprise closed his eyes, rubbed them with both his fists, and then +opened them again, to find himself in his little cot in the nursery, the +gas-stove burning merrily and winking at him from the fire-place, and +the friendly voice, as usual, nowhere to be seen, and now not even to be +heard.</p> + +<p>No sole remnant of the frozen country remained, save a few beautiful +frost pictures on the windows, which, it seemed to Jimmieboy, Jack had +left there in remembrance of the services Jimmieboy had done him; and as +for the frost kiss on little Russ's chin, it had become as invisible as +that far sweeter kiss that mamma had placed upon that very same spot +when she first discovered what Jack had done.</p> + +<h4>(THE END.)</h4> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Half-Hours with Jimmieboy, by John Kendrick Bangs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HALF-HOURS WITH JIMMIEBOY *** + +***** This file should be named 39757-h.htm or 39757-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/5/39757/ + +Produced by Annie R. 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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 at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: Half-Hours with Jimmieboy + +Author: John Kendrick Bangs + +Illustrator: Frank Verbeck + Charles Howard Johnson + J. T. Richards + P. Newell + +Release Date: May 22, 2012 [EBook #39757] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HALF-HOURS WITH JIMMIEBOY *** + + + + +Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from +scanned images of public domain material from the Internet +Archive. + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Book Cover] + + + + +[Illustration: "ALL ABOARD FOR SLEEP," SAID JIMMIEBOY.] + + + + +HALF-HOURS WITH JIMMIEBOY. + + +BY +JOHN KENDRICK BANGS, +AUTHOR OF +_"Tiddledywink Tales," "In Camp with a Tin Soldier," +"Tiddledywink Poetry Book," etc._ + + +ILLUSTRATED BY +FRANK VERBECK, CHARLES HOWARD JOHNSON, +J. T. RICHARDS, P. NEWELL, +AND OTHERS. + + +[Illustration] + + +NEW YORK: +R. H. RUSSELL & SON, +MDCCCXCIII. + + + + +TO MY SON, +FRANCIS HYDE BANGS. + + + + +Thanks are due to Messrs. Harper & Bros. for the +privilege of re-printing several of the +stories in this book. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + 1. CHRISTMAS EVE AT JIMMIEBOY'S 11 + 2. THE DWARF AND THE DUDE GIANT 24 + 3. JIMMIEBOY'S DREAM POETRY 35 + 4. A SUBTERRANEAN MUTINY 48 + 5. JIMMIEBOY IN THE LIBRARY 60 + 6. JIMMIEBOY'S SNOWMAN 72 + 7. THE BICYCLOPAEDIA BIRD 85 + 8. GIANT THE JACK KILLER 100 + 9. JIMMIEBOY AND THE FIREWORKS 109 + 10. JIMMIEBOY'S PHOTOGRAPH 124 + 11. JIMMIEBOY AND THE BLANK-BOOK 132 + 12. JIMMIEBOY AND THE COMET 146 + 13. JIMMIEBOY AND JACK FROST 156 + 14. JIMMIEBOY AND THE GAS-STOVE 168 + 15. IN THE HEART OF FROSTLAND 183 + 16. THE END OF THE STORY 201 + + + + +I. + +CHRISTMAS EVE AT JIMMIEBOY'S. + + +It had been a long and trying day to Jimmieboy, as December 24th usually +is to children of his age, who have great expectations, and are more or +less impatient to have them fulfilled. He had been positively cross at +supper-time because his father had said that Santa Claus had written to +say that a much-desired velocipede could not be got down through the +chimney, and that he thought Jimmieboy would have to wait until the +chimneys had been enlarged, or his papa had built a new house with more +commodious flues. + +"I think it's just too bad," said Jimmieboy, as he climbed into bed an +hour later. "Just because those chimneys are small, I can't have a +philocipede, and I've been gooder than ever for two weeks, just to get +it." + +Then, as his nurse extinguished the lamp and went into the adjoining +room to sew, Jimmieboy threw himself back upon his pillow and shed a +tear. The tear crept slowly down over his cheek, and was about to +disappear between his lips and go back again to where it had started +from, when a voice was heard over by the fire-place. + +"Can you get it down?" it said. + +Jimmieboy sat up and peered over toward the spot whence the voice came, +but could see nothing. + +"No. The hind wheels won't go through the chimney-pot, and even if they +would, it wouldn't do any good. The front wheel is twice as big as the +hind ones," said another voice, this one apparently belonging to some +one on the roof. "Can't you get it in through the front door?" + +"What do you take me for--an expressman?" cried the voice at the +fire-place. "I can't leave things that way. It wouldn't be the proper +thing. Can't you get a smaller size through?" + +"Yes; but will it fit the boy?" said the voice on the roof. + +"Lower your lantern down here and we'll see. He's asleep over here in a +brass bedstead," replied the other. + +And then Jimmieboy saw a great red lantern appear in the fire-place, and +by its light he noticed a short, ruddy-faced, merry-eyed old gentleman, +with a snowy beard and a smile, tip-toeing across the room toward him. +To his delight he recognized him at once as Santa Claus; but he didn't +know whether Santa Claus would like to have him see him or not, so he +closed his eyes as tightly as he could, and pretended to be asleep. + +"Humph!" ejaculated Santa Claus, as he leaned over Jimmieboy's bed, and +tried to get his measure by a glance. "He's almost a man--must be five +years old by this time. Pretty big for a small velocipede; still, I +don't know." Here he scratched his beard and sang: + + "If he's too large for it, I think, + 'Twill be too small for him, + Unless he can be got to shrink + Two inches on each limb." + +Then he walked back to the fire-place and called out, "I've measured." + +"Well, what's the result?" queried the voice on the roof. + +"'Nothing,' as the boy said when he was asked what two plus one minus +three amounted to. I can't decide. It will or it won't, and that's all +there is about it." + +"Can't we try it on him?" asked the voice up the chimney. + +"No," returned Santa Claus. "That wouldn't prove anything; but we might +try him on it. Shall I send him up?" + +"Yes," came the voice from above, much to Jimmieboy's delight, for he +was quite curious to see what was going on up on the roof, and who it +was that owned the other voice. + +In a moment Jimmieboy found himself in Santa Claus's arms, cuddled up to +the warm fur coat the dear old gentleman wore, in which position he was +carried up through the chimney flue to the roof. Then Jimmieboy peeped +out between his half-opened eyelids, and saw, much to his surprise, that +instead of there being only one Santa Claus, there were two of them. + +"Oh dear!" he said in astonishment; "I didn't know there were two of +you." + +Both the Santas jumped as if some one had let off a cannon cracker under +their very noses. + +"Well, I declare!" said the one that had carried Jimmieboy up through +the chimney. "We're discovered. Here I've been in this business whole +centuries, and I've never been discovered before." + +"That's so," assented the other. "We know now how America must have felt +when Columbus came sailing in. What'll we do about it?" + +"We'll have to take him into partnership, I guess," rejoined the first. +"It'll never do in this world not to. Would you like to be one of our +concern, Jimmieboy?" + +"Oh, indeed I would," said Jimmieboy. + +"Well, I say we let him help us this time anyhow," said the roof Santa +Claus. "You're so fat, I'm afraid you can't get down some of these small +chimneys, and Jimmieboy is just about the right size." + +"Good scheme," said the other; "but he isn't dressed for it, you know." + +"He can get a nice black soot down in the factory chimney," said the +roof Santa Claus, with a wink. + +"That's so; and as the factory fires are always going, it will be a nice +warm soot. What do you say, Jimmieboy?" said the other. + +"It's lovely," replied the boy. "But how did there come to be two of +you?" + +"There had to be," said the first Santa Claus Jimmieboy had seen. "The +world is growing so fast that my work has nearly doubled in the last +twenty years, so I had to get an assistant, and he did so well, I took +him into partnership. He's my brother." + +"And is his name Santa Claus, too?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Oh no, indeed. His name is Marmaduke. We call him Marmy for short, and +I can tell you what it is, Jimmieboy, + + "He is as fine a fellow + As ever you did spy; + He's quite as sweet and mellow, + Though not so fat as I." + +"And that's a recommendation that any man has a right to be proud of," +said Marmy Claus, patting himself on the back to show how proud he felt. +"But, Santa, we must be off. It would not do for the new firm of Santa, +Marmy, and Jimmie Claus to begin business by being late. We've got to +leave toys in eighteen flat-houses, forty-two hotels, and an orphan +asylum yet." + +"That's a fact," said Santa, jumping into the sleigh and grasping the +reins. "Just help Jimmieboy in here, Marmy, and we'll be off. We can +leave his things here on our way back." + +[Illustration: JIMMIEBOY AND THE BROTHERS CLAUS.] + +Then, before he knew how it happened, Jimmieboy found himself wrapped up +warmly in a great fur coat, with a seal-skin cap on his head, and the +dearest, warmest ear-tabs over his ears, sitting in the middle of the +sleigh between the two huge, jolly-faced, members of the Claus family. +The long lash of the whip snapped in the frosty air, at the sound of +which the reindeer sprang forward and dragged the toy-laden cutter off +on its aerial flight. + +At the start Santa drove, and Marmy prepared the toys for the first +little boy they were to visit, handing Jimmieboy a lot of sugar-plums, +to keep him from getting hungry, before he began. + +"This is a poor sick little fellow we are going to see first," he said. +"He wanted a set of choo-choo cars, but we can't give them to him +because the only set we have is for you, Jimmieboy. Your application +came in before his did. I hope he won't be disappointed, though I am +afraid he will be. A fish-pond isn't half so much fun as a set of +choo-choo cars." + +"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "But, Mr. Marmy, perhaps, if it's going to +make him feel real bad not to get them--maybe--perhaps you might let him +have the cars. I don't want them too much." This wasn't quite true, but +Jimmieboy, somehow or other, didn't like to think of the little sick boy +waking up on Christmas day and not finding what he wanted. "You know, I +have one engine and a coal car left of my old set, and I guess maybe, +perhaps, I can make them do," he added. + +Marmy gave the little fellow an affectionate squeeze, and said: "Well, +if you really feel that way, maybe we had better leave the cars there. +Eh, Santa?" + +"Maybe, perhaps," said Santa. + +And it so happened; and although he could not tell exactly why, +Jimmieboy felt happier after leaving the cars at the little sick boy's +house than he ever thought he could be. + +"Now, Jimmieboy," said Santa, as Marmy took the reins and they drove off +again, "while Marmy and I are attending to the hotels and flat-houses, +we want you to take that brown bag and go down the chimney of the orphan +asylum, and leave one toy for each little child there. There are about +a hundred little orphans to be provided for." + +"What's orphans?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Orphans? Why, they are poor little boys and girls without any papas and +mammas, and they all have to live together in one big house. You'll see +'em fast asleep in their little white cots when you get down the +chimney, and you must be very careful not to wake them up." + +"I'll try not to," said Jimmieboy, softly, a lump growing up in his +throat as he thought of the poor children who had no parents. "And I'll +make sure they all get something, too." + +"That's right," said Marmy. "And here's where they live. You take the +bag now, and we'll let you down easy, and when we get through, we'll +come back for you." + +So Jimmieboy shouldered the bag full of toys, and was lowered through +the chimney into the room where the orphans were sleeping. He was +surprised to find how light the bag was, and he was almost afraid there +would not be enough toys to go around; but there were, as he found out +in a moment. There were more than enough by at least a dozen of the most +beautiful toys he had ever seen--just the very things he would most have +liked to have himself. + +"I just guess I'll give 'em one of these things apiece, and keep the +extra ones, and maybe perhaps they'll be for me," he said. + +[Illustration: JIMMIEBOY IN THE ORPHAN ASYLUM.] + +So he arranged the toys quietly under the stockings that hung at the +foot of the little white beds, stuffing the stockings themselves with +candies and apples and raisins and other delicious things to eat, and +then sat down by the fire-place to await the return of Santa Claus and +Santa's brother Marmy. As he sat there he looked around the dimly +lighted room, and saw the poor thin white faces of the little sleeping +orphans, and his heart stirred with pity for their sad condition. Then +he looked at the bag again, and saw the extra dozen toys that were so +pleasing to him, and he wondered if it would make the orphans happier +next morning if they should wake and find them there, too. At first he +wasn't sure but that the orphans had enough; and then he thought of his +own hamper full of dolls, and dogs, and tin soldiers, and cars, and +blocks, at home, and he tried to imagine how much fun he could get out +of a single toy, and he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that he +could get much. + +"One toy is great fun for an hour," he said to himself, "but for a year, +dear me! I guess I won't keep them, after all. I'll just put them in the +middle of the room, so that they'll find them in the morning, and maybe +perhaps---- Hello!" he added, as he took the extra toys out of the bag; +"they were for me, after all. They've got my name on 'em. Oh, dear! +isn't it love---- I don't know, though. Seems to me I'd better leave +them here, even if they are for me. I can get along without them because +I have a papa to play with, and he's more fun than any toy I ever had; +and mamma's better'n any doll baby or choo-choo car I ever saw. Yes, I +will leave them." + +And the little fellow was true to his purpose. He emptied the bag to the +very last toy, and then, hearing the tinkling bells of Santa's sleigh on +the roof again, he ran to the chimney, and was hauled up by his two new +friends to the roof. + +"Why, you've left everything except the bag!" cried Marmy, as Jimmieboy +climbed into the sleigh. + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy, with a little sigh; "everything." + +"But the bag had all your things in it, and we haven't a toy or a +sugar-plum left for you," said Santa. + +"Never mind," said Jimmieboy. "I don't care much. I've had this ride +with you, and--al--together I'm--pret--ty well--satis--fi----" + +Here the little assistant to the Claus brothers, lulled by the jingling +of the bells, fell asleep. + +It was morning when he waked again--Christmas morning--and as he opened +his eyes he found himself back in his little crib, pondering over the +mysterious experiences of the night. His heart was strangely light and +happy even for him, especially when he thought of the little orphan +children, and tried to imagine their happiness on waking and finding the +extra toys--his toys--in addition to their own; and as he thought about +it, his eyes wandered to the chimney-place, and an unexpected sight met +his gaze, for there stood the much-wished-for velocipede, and grouped +around it on the floor were a beautiful set of choo-choo cars exactly +like those he had left with the sick boy, and a duplicate of every one +of the extra toys he had left at the asylum for the orphans. + +"They must have been playing a joke on me," he cried, in delighted +tones, as he sprang out of bed and rushed over to where the toys lay. "I +do believe they left them here while I was in the asylum. +The--dear--old--things!" + +And then Jimmieboy was able to measure the delight of the orphan +children and the little sufferer by comparing it with his own; and when +he went to bed that night, he whispered in his mamma's ear that he +didn't know for sure, but he thought that if the orphans only had a papa +and a mamma like his, they would certainly be the happiest little +children in all the world. + + + + +II + +THE DWARF AND THE DUDE GIANT. + + +The day had not yet dawned, but Jimmieboy was awake--wide awake. So wide +awake was he, indeed, that the small bed in which he had passed the +night was not broad enough by some ten or twelve feet to accommodate the +breadth of his wakefulness, and he had in consequence crawled over into +his father's bed, seated himself as nearly upon his father's neck as was +possible, and was vociferously demanding a story. + +"Oh, wait a little while, Jimmieboy," said his father, wearily. "I'm +sound asleep--can't you see?" + +"Tell a story," said Jimmieboy, poking his thumbs into his father's half +closed eyes. + +The answer was a snore--not a real one, but one of those imitation +snores that fathers of boys like Jimmieboy make use of on occasions of +this sort, prompted no doubt by the maker's desire to convince a +persistent enemy to sleep that his cause is hopeless, and of which the +enemy is never to be convinced. + +"Tell a story about a Giant," insisted Jimmieboy, a suggestion of tears +in his voice. + +"Oh, well," returned the sleepy father, sitting up and, rubbing his eyes +vigorously in a vain effort to get all the sleepiness out of them. "If +you must have it, you must have it, so here goes. Let's see--a story of +a Giant or of a Dwarf?" + +"Both," said Jimmieboy, placidly. + +"Dear me!" cried his father. "I wish I'd kept quiet about the Dwarf. +Well, once upon a time there was a Giant." + +"And a Dwarf, too," put in Jimmieboy, who did not intend to be cheated +out of a half of the story. + +"Yes. And a Dwarf, too," said the other with a nod. "The Giant was a +Dude Giant, who cared more for his hats than he did for anything else in +the world. It was quite natural, too, that he should, for he had a finer +chance to show them off than most people have, because he had no less +than four heads, which is very remarkable for a Dude Giant, because +dudes who are not giants very rarely have even one head worth +mentioning. Hats were about the only things the Dude Giant cared for at +all. He used to buy every style of head-gear he could find, and it took +almost all of the salary he received at the Museum where he was on +exhibition to pay for them; but he was particularly fond of silk hats. +Of these he had twenty-eight; four for each day of the week, those for +Sunday being especially handsome and costly. + +"Now it happened that in the same exhibition with the Dude Giant there +was a Dwarf named Tiny W. Littlejohn--W standing for Wee, which was his +middle name. He was a very good-natured fellow, Tiny was, and as far as +he knew he hadn't an enemy in the world. He was so very nice that +everybody who came to the exhibition brought him cream cakes, and +picture books, and roller skates, and other beautiful things, and nobody +ever thought of going away without buying his photograph, paying him +twenty-five cents extra for the ones with his autograph on, which his +mother wrote for him. In this way the Dwarf soon grew to be a +millionaire, while the Dude Giant squandered all he had on riotous hats, +and so remained as poor as when he started. For a long time everything +went smoothly at the Exhibition. There were no jealousies or quarrels of +any sort, except between the Glass Eater and the man who made Glass +Steamboats, and that was smoothed over in a very short time by the Glass +Eater saying that the Glass-blower made the finest crystal pies he had +ever tasted. But contentment and peace could not last forever in an +establishment where one attraction was growing richer and richer every +day as the Dwarf was, while another, the Dude Giant, was no better off +than the day he joined the show, and when finally the Dwarf began to +come every morning in a cab of his own, drawn by a magnificent gray +horse with a banged tail, and to dress better even than the proprietor +of the Museum himself, the Dude Giant became very envious, and when the +Dude Giant gets envious he is a very disagreeable person. For instance, +when no one was looking he would make horrible faces at Tiny, contorting +his four mouths and noses and eight cheeks all at once in a very +terrifying manner, and when he'd look cross-eyed at the Dwarf with all +eight of his eyes poor Tiny would get so nervous that he would try to +eat the roller skates and picture books, instead of the cream cakes +people brought him, and on one occasion he broke two of his prettiest +teeth doing it, which marred his personal appearance very much. + +"Tiny stood it as long as he could, and then he complained to his +friend, the Whirlwind, about it, and the Whirlwind, who was a very +sensible sort of a fellow, advised him not to mind it. It was only +jealousy, he said, that led the Dude Giant to behave that way, and if +Tiny had not been more successful than Forepate--as the Dude Giant was +called--Forepate wouldn't have been jealous, so that his very jealousy +was an acknowledgment of inferiority. So Tiny made up his mind he +wouldn't pay any attention to the Dude Giant at all, but would go right +ahead minding his own business and making all the money he could. + +"This made Forepate all the more angry, and finally he resolved to get +even with the Dwarf in some other way than by making grimaces at him. +Now, it happened that Forepate's place was over by a window directly +opposite to where the Dwarf sat, and so, to get near enough to Tiny to +put his scheme against him into execution, he complained to the manager +that there was a terrible draft from the window, and added that unless +he could sit on the other side of the room he was certain he'd catch +cold in three of his heads anyhow, if not in all of them. + +"'Very well,' said the manager. 'Where do you wish to sit?' + +"'You might put me next to Littlejohn, over there,' said the head with +red hair. + +"'But,' said the manager, 'what shall we do with that stuffed owl with +the unicorn's horns?' + +"'Put him by the window,' said another of the Dude Giant's heads. + +"'Yes,' said the third head. 'No draft in all the world could give a +stuffed owl a cold.' + +"'That's so,' replied the manager. 'We'll make the change right off.' + +"And then the change was made, though Tiny did not like it very much. + +"To disarm all suspicion, the Dude Giant was very affable to the Dwarf +for a whole week, and to see him talking to Tiny no one would have +suspected that he hated him so, which shows how horribly crafty he was. +Finally the hour for his revenge arrived. It was Monday morning, and +Forepate and Tiny had taken their places as usual, when, observing that +no one was looking, Forepate took his biggest beaver hat and put it over +Tiny, completely hiding him from view. Poor Tiny was speechless with +rage, and so could not cry out. Forepate kept him under his hat all +day, and whenever any one asked where Littlejohn was, one of his heads +would say, 'Alas! Poor Tiny, he has mysteriously disappeared!' And +another head would shake itself and say 'Somebody must have left the +door open and the wind must have whisked the dear little fellow out into +the cold, cold world.' Then the other two heads would blubber, at which +the Dude Giant would take out his handkerchiefs and wipe his eight eyes +and shake all over as if he were inconsolable, and Tiny, overhearing it +all, grew more and more speechless with indignation. + +"That night, of course, Forepate had to release him, and Tiny hurried +away fairly howling with anger. When he arrived at home he told his +mother how he had been treated and how he had been done out of a whole +day's cream cakes and picture books and roller skates, and she advised +him to go at once to the Whirlwind and confide his woe to him, which he +did. + +"'Forepate ought to be ashamed of himself,' said the Whirlwind, when +Tiny had told his story. + +"'But he never does what he ought to do unless somebody makes him,' said +Tiny, ruefully. 'Can't we do something to make him ashamed of himself?' + +"'Well, I'll see,' said the Whirlwind, with a shake of his head that +meant that he intended to do something. 'What does the Dude Giant do +with himself on Sundays?' + +"'Shows off his best hats on Fifth avenue," returned the Dwarf. + +"'Very well then, I have it,' said the Whirlwind. 'Next Sunday, Tiny, +we'll have our revenge on Forepate. You stand on one of the stoops at +the corner of Fifth avenue and Thirty-fourth street at midday, and +you'll see a sight that will make you happy for the rest of your days.' + +"So, on the following Sunday the Dwarf climbed up on one of the front +stoops on Fifth avenue, near Thirty-fourth street, and waited. He hadn't +been there long when he saw Forepate striding down the avenue dressed in +his best clothes, and wearing upon his heads four truly magnificent +beavers, which he had just received from London, and of which he was +justly proud. + +"'I wonder where the Whirlwind is,' thought the Dwarf, looking anxiously +up and down the avenue for his avenger. 'I do hope he won't fail.' + +"Hardly were the words out of his mouth when Forepate reached the +crossing of Thirty-fourth street, and just as he stepped from the walk +into the street, bzoo! along came the Whirlwind, and off went Forepate's +treasured hats. One hat flew madly up Fifth avenue. A second rolled +swiftly down Fifth avenue. A third tripped merrily along East +Thirty-fourth street, while the fourth sailed joyously into the air, +struck a lamp-post, and then plunged along West Thirty-fourth street. +And then! Dear me! What a terrible thing happened! It was perfectly +awful--simply dreadful!" + +"Hurry up and tell it," said Jimmieboy, jumping up and down with anxiety +to hear what happened next. + +"Then," said his papa, "when the Dude Giant saw his beloved hats flying +in every direction he howled aloud with every one of his four voices, +and craned each of his necks in the direction in which it's hat had +flown. + +"Then the head with the auburn hair demanded that the Giant should +immediately run up Fifth avenue to recover its lost beaver, and the +giant started, but hardly had he gone a step when the head with the +black hair cried out: + +"'No! Down Fifth avenue after my hat.' + +"'Not at all!' shrieked the head without any hair. 'Go east after mine.' + +"'Well, I guess not!' roared the head that had curly hair. 'He's going +west after mine.' + +"Meanwhile the Giant had come to a stand-still. He couldn't run in any +direction until his heads had agreed as to which way he should go, and +all this time the beautiful hats were getting farther and farther away, +and the heads more frantic than ever. For five full minutes they +quarreled thus among themselves, turning now and then to peer weepingly +after their beloved silk hats, and finally, with a supreme effort, each +endeavored to force the Giant in the direction it wished him to go, with +the result that poor Forepate was torn to pieces, and fell dead in the +middle of the street." + +Here papa paused and closed his eyes for a minute. + +"Is that all?" queried Jimmieboy. + +"Yes--I believe that's all. The Dude Giant was dead and the Dwarf was +avenged." + +"And what became of Tiny?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, Tiny," said his father, "Tiny--he--he laughed so heartily at the +Dude Giant's mishap that he loosened the impediment to his growth,--" + +"The what?" asked Jimmieboy, to whom words like impediment were rather +strange. + +"Why, the bone that kept him from growing," explained the story teller. +"He loosened that and began to grow again, and inside of two weeks he +was as handsome a six-footer as you ever saw, and as he had made a +million and a half of dollars he resigned from the Exhibition and +settled down in Europe for a number of years, had himself made a Grand +Duke, and then came back to New York and got married, and lived happy +ever after." + +And then, as the getting-up bell rang down stairs, Jimmieboy thanked his +father for the story and went into the nursery to dress for breakfast. + + + + +III. + +JIMMIEBOY'S DREAM POETRY. + + +If there is anything in the world that Jimmieboy likes better than +custard and choo-choo cars, it is to snuggle down in his papa's lap +about bedtime and pretend to keep awake. It doesn't matter at all how +tired he is, or how late bedtime may on special occasions be delayed, he +is never ready to be undressed and "filed away for the night," as his +Uncle Periwinkle puts it. + +It was just this way the other night. He was as sleepy as he possibly +could be. The sandman had left enough sand in his eyes, or so it seemed +to Jimmieboy, to start a respectable sea-beach, and he really felt as if +all he needed to make a summer resort of himself was a big hotel, a band +of music, and an ocean. But in spite of all this he didn't want to go to +bed, and he had apparently made up his mind that he wasn't going to +want to go to bed for some time to come; and as his papa was in an +unusually indulgent mood, the little fellow was permitted to nestle up +close under his left arm and sit there on his lap in the library after +dinner, while his mamma read aloud an article in one of the magazines on +the subject of dream poetry. + +It was a very interesting article, Jimmieboy thought. The idea of +anybody's writing poetry while asleep struck him as being very comical, +and he laughed several times in a sleepy sort of way, and then all of a +sudden he thought, "Why, if other people can do it, why can't I?" + +"Why?" he answered--he was quite fond of asking himself questions and +then answering them--"why? Because you can't write at all. You don't +know an H from a D, unless there's a Horse in the picture with the H, +and a Donkey with the D. That's why." + +"True; but that's only when I'm awake." + +"Try it and see," whispered the Pencil in his papa's vest pocket. "I'll +help, and maybe our old friend the Scratch Pad will help too." + +"That's a good idea," said Jimmieboy, taking the Pencil out of his +papa's pocket, and assisting it to climb down to the floor, so that it +could run over to the desk and tell the Scratch Pad it was wanted. + +"Don't you lose my pencil," said papa. + +"No, I won't," replied Jimmieboy, his eyes following the Pencil in its +rather winding course about the room to where the desk stood. + +"I have to keep out of sight, you know, Jimmieboy," the Pencil said, in +a low tone of voice. "Because if I didn't, and your papa saw me walking +off, he'd grab hold of me and put me back in his pocket again." + +Suddenly the Pencil disappeared over by the waste-basket, and then +Jimmieboy heard him calling, in a loud whisper: "Hi! Pad! Paddy! +Pad-dee!" + +"What's wanted?" answered the Pad, crawling over the edge of the desk +and peering down at the Pencil, who was by this time hallooing himself +hoarse. + +"Jimmieboy and I are going to write some dream poetry, and we want you +to help," said the Pencil. + +"Oh, I'm not sleepy," said the Pad. + +"Neither am I," returned the Pencil. "But that needn't make any +difference. Jimmieboy, does the sleeping and dreaming, and you and I do +the rest." + +"Oh, that's it, eh? Well, then, I don't mind; but--er--how am I ever +going to get down there?" asked the Pad. "It's a pretty big jump." + +"That's so," answered the Pencil. "I wouldn't try jumping. Can't the +Twine help you?" + +"No. He's all used up." + +"Then I have it," said the Pencil. "Put a little mucilage on your back +and slide down. The mucilage will keep you from going too fast." + +"Good scheme," said the Pad, putting the Pencil's suggestion into +practice, and finding that it worked beautifully, even if it did make +him feel uncomfortably sticky. + +[Illustration: ARM IN ARM THEY TIPTOED SOFTLY ACROSS THE ROOM.] + +And then, arm in arm, they tip-toed softly across the room and climbed +up into Jimmieboy's lap. So quietly did they go that neither Jimmieboy's +mamma, nor his papa noticed them at all, as they might have had the +conspirators been noisy, although mamma was reading and papa's head was +thrown back, so that his eyes rested on the picture moulding. + +"Here we are, Jimmieboy," said the Pad. "Pen here tells me you're going +to try a little dream poetry." + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I am, if you two will help." + +"Count on us," said the Pencil. "What do you do first?" + +"I don't exactly know," said Jimmieboy. "But I rather think I take +Pencil in my hand, Pad in my lap, and fall asleep." + +"All right," said the Pad, lying flat on his back. "I'm ready." + +"So am I," put in the Pencil, settling down between two of Jimmieboy's +fingers. + +"All aboard for sleep," said Jimmieboy, with a smile, and then he fell +into a doze. In about two minutes he opened his eyes again, and found +both Pad and Pencil in a great state of excitement. + +"Did I write anything?" asked Jimmieboy, in an excited whisper. + +"Yes," said the Pad. "You just covered me up with a senseless mass of +words. This isn't any fun." + +"No," said the Pencil. "It's all nonsense. Just see here what you've +got." + +[Illustration: JIMMIEBOY FINDS NOTHING BUT DREAM-WRITING ON THE PAD.] + +Jimmieboy looked anxiously at the Pad, and this is what he saw: + + I seen since, + memory's wrong, + They both dressed + couple walked + + And straightway change + upstairs with me, + "I think it's + "If that's the case," + + catch the early in." + to leave the shop, + for it's pla + Polypop. + + two weeks yesterday." + haven't uttered + Oh, Polypop, I + ersnee, "See here, + + He didn't pay + moon was shining bright. + To see the + Polypop came down + +"Dear me!" he said. "Why, that doesn't mean anything, does it?" + +"No. There isn't much in dream poetry, I guess," said the Pad. "I'm +going back home. Good-by." + +"Oh, don't go," said the Pencil. "Let's try it again--just once more. +Eh?" + +"Very well," returned the Pad, good-naturedly, tearing off one of his +leaves. "Go ahead, Jimmieboy." + +And Jimmieboy dozed off again. + +"Wake up, wake up!" cried the Pencil in about three minutes. "We've got +something this time." + +But they were all disappointed, for, when they looked, all that they +could see was this: + + have not them + And if my not + were in chintz; + With that the along; + + your vest." + For you to go + Replied best, + the Snickersnee, + + And tra + I hadn't time + "My reason in; + "I know it," said the + + Since + You one small cheer, + say, + Then quoth the Snick + + his fee. + And as the + Snickersnee, + The one night, + +"Rubbish!" said the Pad, indignantly. "There's two leaves of myself +wasted now on your old dream poetry. I think that's enough. I'm off. +Good-by." + +"Don't be hasty, Pad," retorted the Pencil. "That's a great deal better +than the other. Why, there's one part there with all the lines beginning +with capitals, and when that happens it's generally a sign that there's +poetry around." + +"There isn't much there, though," said Jimmieboy, a little disappointed +by the result. "I guess Pad's right. We'd better give it up." + +"Not yet," pleaded the Pencil. "There's luck in odd numbers, you know. +Let's try it just once more." + +"Shall we, Jimmieboy?" asked the Pad. + +"Yes. Let's," assented Jimmieboy, as he dropped off to sleep for the +third time. + +This time he must have slept five minutes. When he opened his eyes he +saw the Pencil staring blankly at the Pad, on which was written nothing +more than this curious looking formula: + + 2 + 2 + - + 4 + +"How aggravating!" said Jimmieboy. + +"Abominable!" ejaculated the Pad. + +"I believe it's a key to what has gone before," said the Pencil, shaking +his rubber wisely. "Two and two make four--two and two make four. Ah! I +know. You've got to put two and two together to make four. If we put +those two leaves of nonsensical words together, maybe we'll have a poem. +Let's try." + +"It'll use me up, I'm afraid," sighed the Pad. + +"Oh, no. It won't take more than a half of you," said the Pencil, +putting the two leaves on which Jimmieboy had first written together. + +"It looks like a poem," he said, when he had fitted the two together. +"Let's see how it reads. + + "I have not seen them since. + And if my memory's not wrong, + They both were dressed in chintz, + With that the couple walked along;" + +"That doesn't mean a blessed thing," said the Pad. + +"It's nonsense," said Jimmieboy. + +"Just wait!" said the Pencil, beginning to read again: + + And straightway change your vest." + For you to go upstairs with me, + Replied, "I think it's best + "If that's the case," the Snickersnee + + And catch the early train." + I hadn't time to leave the shop + "My reason for it's plain; + "I know it," said the Polypop; + + "Since two weeks yesterday." + You haven't uttered one small cheer + Oh, Polypop, I say, + Then quoth the Snickersnee, "See here, + + He didn't pay his fee. + And as the moon was shining bright, + To see the Snickersnee, + The Polypop came down one night + +"Ho!" jeered the Pad. "That's elegant poetry, that is. You might get +paid five cents a mile for stuff like that, if you wanted to sell it and +had luck." + +"I don't care," said the Pencil. "It rhymes well." + +"Oh, I know what's the matter," said Jimmieboy, gleefully. "Why, of +course it's poetry. Read it upside down, and it's all right. It's dream +poetry, and dreams always go the other way. Why, it's fine. Just +listen: + + "The Polypop came down one night + To see the Snickersnee, + And, as the moon was shining bright, + He didn't pay his fee." + +"That is good," said the Pad. "Let me say the next: + + "Then, quoth the Snickersnee, 'See here, + Oh, Polypop, I say, + You have not uttered one small cheer + Since two weeks yesterday.'" + +"I thought it would come out right," said the Pencil. "The next two +verses are particularly good, too: + + "'I know it,' said the Polypop; + 'My reason for it's plain; + I hadn't time to leave the shop + And catch the early train.' + + "'If that's the case,' the Snickersnee + Replied, 'I think it's best + For you to go upstairs with me, + And straightway change your vest.'" + +"Now altogether," cried the Pad, enthusiastically. "One, two, three!" +And then they all recited: + + "With that the couple walked along; + They both were dressed in chintz; + And if my memory's not wrong, + I have not seen them since." + +"Hooray!" cried Jimmieboy, as they finished--so loudly that it nearly +deafened the Pad, which jumped from his lap and scurried back to the +table as fast as it could go. + +"What's that cheer for?" asked papa, looking down into Jimmieboy's face, +and grabbing the Pencil, which was on the point of falling to the floor. + +"It's for Dream Poetry," murmured Jimmieboy, getting drowsy again. "I've +just dreamed a lot. It's on the Pad." + +"Indeed!" said papa, with a sly wink at mamma. "Let's get the Pad and +read it." + +The little fellow straightened up and ran across to the desk, and, +grasping the Pad firmly in his hands, handed it to his father to read. + +"H'm!" said papa, staring at the leaf before him. "Blank verse." + +"Read it," said Jimmieboy. + +"I can't to-night, my boy," he answered. "My eyes are too weak for me to +see dream writing." + +For between you and me that was the only kind of writing there was on +that Pad. + + + + +IV. + +A SUBTERRANEAN MUTINY. + + +It seemed rather strange that it should have been left there, and yet +Jimmieboy was glad that in grading his papa's tennis-court the men had +left that bit of flat rock to show up on the surface of the lawn. It had +afforded him no end of pleasure since he had first discovered it. As a +make-believe island in a raging sea of grass, he had often used it to be +cast away upon, but chiefly had he employed it as a vantage ground from +which to watch his father and his father's friends at their games of +tennis. The rock was just about large enough for the boy to sit upon and +pretend that he was umpire, or, as his father said, mascot for his +father's opponents, and it rarely happened that a game of tennis was +played upon the court that was not witnessed by Jimmieboy seated upon +his rocky coigne. + +The strangest experience that Jimmieboy ever had with this bit of +stone, however, was one warm afternoon last summer. It was at the drowsy +period of the day. The tennis players were indulging in a game, which, +to the little onlooker, was unusually dull, and he was on the point of +starting off in pursuit of something, it mattered not what, so long as +it was interesting enough to keep him awake, when he observed a most +peculiar thing about the flat stone. It had unquestionably become +transparent! Jimmieboy could see through it, and what he saw was of most +unexpected quality. + +"Dear me!" he ejaculated, "how very queer. This rock is made of glass." + +Then he peered down through it, and saw a beautiful marble staircase +running down into the earth, at the foot of which was a great door that +looked as though it was made of silver, and the key was of gold. At the +sides of the staircase, hanging upon the walls, were pictures of strange +little men and women, but unlike the men and women in other pictures, +they moved about, and talked, and romped, and seemed to enjoy themselves +hugely. Great pictures were they indeed to Jimmieboy's mind, because +they were constantly changing, like the designs in his kaleidoscope. + +"I must get down there," he said, softly, to himself. "But how?" + +As he spoke the door at the foot of the steps opened, and a small +creature, for all the world like the goblin in Jimmieboy's fairy book, +poked his head out. The goblin looked all about him, and then turning +his eyes upward until they met those of the boy, he cried out: + +"Hullo! Are you the toy peddler?" + +"No," replied Jimmieboy. + +"Then you are the milk broker, or the potato merchant, and we don't want +any milk or any potatoes." + +The goblin slammed the door when he had said this, and with such a bang +that all the little people in the pictures ran to the edge of the frame +and peered out to see what was the matter. One poor little fellow, who +had been tending sheep in a picture half-way up the stairs, leaned out +so far that he lost his balance and tumbled out head over heels. The +sheep scampered over the hill and disappeared in the background of the +painting. + +"Poor little shepherd boy!" said Jimmieboy. "I hope you are not hurt!" + +The shepherd boy looked up gratefully at the speaker, and said he +wasn't, except in his feelings. + +"Is there any way for me to get in there?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"No, sir," said the shepherd boy. "That is, not all of you. Part of you +can come in." + +"Ho!" said Jimmieboy. "I can't divide myself up." + +"Yes, you can," returned the shepherd boy. "It's easy enough, when you +know how, but I suppose you don't know how, not having studied +arithmetic. You can't even add, much less divide." + +"Maybe you can tell me how," said Jimmieboy. + +"Certainly, I can," said the shepherd boy. "The part of you that can +come in is your eye, and your ear, and your voice. All the rest of you +must stay out." + +"But how do I get 'em in?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"They are in now," said the other. "You can see me, you can hear me, and +I can hear you." + +"But I can't see what's beyond that door." + +"Oh, we'll fix that," said the little shepherd. "I'll knock on the door, +and when it is opened you can tell the goblin that you want to see what +he's got, and he'll show it all to you if you tell him that your father +is the man who didn't blast the rock out." + +The shepherd boy then went softly down the stairs, knocked on the door, +and before it was opened had flown back to his duties in the picture. +Then, as he had intimated, the goblin opened the door again, and poking +his head out as before, cried: + +"Is that you, milk broker?" + +"No," answered Jimmieboy. "I am the son of the man who didn't blast away +the flat rock, and my eye and my ear and my voice want to come in." + +"Why, certainly," said the goblin, throwing the door wide open. "I +didn't know you were you. Let 'em walk right in." + +Jimmieboy was about to say that he didn't know how his eye or his ear or +his voice could walk anywhere, but he was prevented from so doing by the +sudden disappearance of the staircase, and the substitution therefor of +a huge room, the splendor of which was so great that it for a moment +dazzled his eyes. + +"Who comes here?" said a voice in the corner of the room. + +"The eye and the ear and the voice of the son of the man who did not +blast the flat stone," observed the goblin, and then Jimmieboy +perceived, seated upon a lustrous golden throne, a shriveled-up dwarf, +who looked as if he might be a thousand years old, but who, to judge +from the crown he wore upon his head, was a king. + +The dwarf was clad in garments of the richest texture, and his person +was luminous with jewels of the rarest sort. As the goblin announced the +visitor the king rose up, and descending from the throne, made a courtly +bow to Jimmieboy. + +"Thrice welcome, O son of the man who did not blast the flat rock," he +said. "It is only fitting that one who owes so much to the father should +welcome the eye and the ear and the voice of the son, for know, O boy, +that I am the lord of the Undergroundies whose kingdom would have been +shattered but for your father's kindly act in sparing it." + +"I suppose that blasting the rock would have spoiled all this," said +Jimmieboy's voice, as his eye took in the royal magnificence of the +place, while to his ears came strains of soft and sweet music. "It would +have been dreadful!" + +"Much more dreadful than you imagine," replied the little king. "It +would have worked damage that a life-time could not have repaired." + +Then the king turned to a tall, pale creature in black who sat writing +at a mahogany table in one corner of the throne room, and commanded him +to recite into Jimmieboy's ear how dreadful it would have been. + +"Compose, O laureate," he said to the tall, pale creature, "compose a +song in which the dire effects of such a blast are fully set forth." + +The laureate rose from his seat, and bowing low before the king and +Jimmieboy's eye, began his song, which ran in this wise: + + "A half a pound of dynamite + Set in that smooth, flat stone. + Our palace would quite out of sight + Most certainly have blown. + + "It would have blown our window-panes + To high Gibraltar's ledge, + And all our streets and country lanes + It would have set on edge. + + "It would have knocked our royal king + As far up as the moon; + Beyond the reach of anything-- + Beyond the best balloon. + + "It would have taken all our pears, + Our candy and our toys, + And hurled them where the polar bears + Indulge in horrid noise. + + "It would have spoiled the music-box, + And ruined all our books-- + Knocked holes in all our woolen socks, + And ruined thus their looks. + + "'T would have destroyed our chandeliers, + To dough turned all our pie; + And, worst of all, my little dears, + It would have injured I." + +"Is that dreadful enough?" asked the laureate, turning to the king. + +"It suits me," said the king. "But perhaps our friend Jimmieboy would +like to have it made a little more dreadful." + +"In that case," said the laureate, "I can compose a few more verses in +which the blast makes the tennis-court over us cave in and bury all the +cake and jam we have in the larder, or if he thinks that too much to +sacrifice, and would like a little pleasure mixed in with the +terribleness, the cod-liver oil bottle might be destroyed." + +"I wouldn't spoil the cake and jam," said Jimmieboy's voice, in reply to +this. "But the cod-liver oil might go." + +"Very well," said the laureate, and then he bowed low again and sang: + + "But there is balm for our annoy, + For next the blast doth spoil + Six hundred quarts--O joy! O joy!-- + Of vile cod-liver oil." + +"I should think you would have liked that," said Jimmieboy's voice. + +"I would have," said the king, "because you know the law of this country +requires the king to consume a bottle of cod-liver oil every day, and if +the bottles were all broken, perhaps the law, too, would have been +crushed out of existence. But, after all, I'd rather be king with +cod-liver oil than have my kingdom ruined and do without it. How would +you like to see our gardens?" + +"Very much," said Jimmieboy. "I'm fond of flowers." + +The king laughed. + +"What a droll idea," he said, turning to the laureate. "The idea of +flowers growing in gardens! Write me a rhyme on the drollness of the +idea." + +The laureate sighed. It was evident that he was getting tired of +composing verses to order. + +"I hear and obey," he replied, shortly, and then he recited as follows: + + "To think of wasting: any time + In raising flowers, I think, + Is worse than writing nonsense-rhyme, + Or frying purple ink. + + "It's queerer really than the act + Of painting sword-fish green; + Or sailing down a cataract + To please a magazine. + + "Indeed, it really seems to me, + Who now am very old, + The drollest bit of drollery + That ever has been drolled." + +"But what do you raise in your gardens?" asked Jimmieboy, as the +laureate completed his composition. + +"Nothing, of course," said the king. "What's a garden for, anyhow? +Pleasure, isn't it?" + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy's voice, "but----" + +"There isn't any but about it," said the king. "If a garden is for +pleasure it must not be worked in. Business and pleasure are two very +different things, and you cannot raise flowers without working." + +"But how do you get pleasure out of a garden when you don't raise +anything in it?" + +"Aren't you dull!" ejaculated the king. "Write me a quatrain on his +dullness, O laureate." + +"Confound his dullness!" muttered the laureate. "I'm rapidly wearing +out, poetizing about this boy." Then he added, aloud: "Certainly, your +majesty. Here it is: + + "He is the very dullest lad + I've seen in all my life; + For dullness he is quite as bad + As any oyster-knife." + +"Is that all?" asked the king, with a frown. + +"I'm afraid four lines is as many as I can squeeze into a quatrain," +said the laureate, returning the frown with interest. + +"Then tell this young man's ear, sirrah, how it comes that we get +pleasure out of a garden in which nothing grows." + +"If I must--I suppose I must," growled the laureate; and then he +recited: + + "The plan is thus, O little wit, + You'll see it in a minute; + We get our pleasures out of it, + Because there's none within it." + +"That is very poor poetry, Laury!" snapped the king. + +"If you don't like it, don't take it," retorted the laureate. "I'm tired +of this business, anyhow." + +"And what, pray," cried the king, striding angrily forward to the +mutinous poet, "what are you going to do about it?" + +"I'm going to get up a revolution," retorted the laureate, shaking his +quill pen fiercely at the king. "If I go to the people to-morrow, and +promise not to write any more poetry, they'll all be so grateful they'll +make me king, and set you to work wheeling coal in the mines for the +mortals." + +The king's face grew so dark with anger as the laureate spoke that +Jimmieboy's eye could hardly see two inches before itself, and in haste +the little fellow withdrew it from the scene. What happened next he +never knew, but that missiles were thrown by the quarreling king and +poet he was certain, for there was a tremendous shout, and something +just tipped the end of his ear and went whizzing by, and rubbing his +eyes, the boy looked about him, and discovered that he was still lying +face downward upon the flat rock, but it was no longer transparent. + +Off in the bushes directly back of him was his father, looking for a +tennis ball. This, some people say, is the object that whizzed past +Jimmieboy's ear, but to this day the little fellow believes that it was +nothing less than the king's crown, which that worthy monarch had hurled +at the laureate, that did this. + +For my part I take sides with neither, for, as a matter of fact, I know +nothing about it. + + + + +V. + +JIMMIEBOY IN THE LIBRARY. + + +"I'm going to sit in this comfor'ble arm-chair by the fire," said +Jimmieboy, climbing up into the capacious easy-chair in his father's +library, and settling down upon its soft cushioned seat. "I've had my +supper, and it was all of cold things, and I think I ought to get 'em +warmed up before I go to bed." + +"Very well," said his papa. "Only be careful, and keep your feet awake. +It wouldn't be comfortable if your feet should go to sleep just about +the time your mamma wanted you to go to bed. I'd have to carry you up +stairs, if that should happen, and the doctor says if I carry you much +longer I'll have a back like a dromedary." + +"Oh, that would be lovely!" said Jimmieboy. "I'd just like to see you +with two humps on your back--one for me, and one for my little +brother." + +"Dear me!" said a gruff voice at Jimmieboy's side--"Dear me! The idea of +a boy of your age, with two sets of alphabet picture blocks and a +dictionary right in the house, not knowing that a dromedary has only one +hump! Ridiculous! Next thing you'll be trying to say that the one-eyed +catteraugus has two eyes." + +Jimmieboy leaned over the arm of the chair to see who it could be that +spoke. It wasn't his father, that much was certain, because his father +had often said that it wasn't possible to do more than three things at +once, and he was now doing that many--smoking a cigar, reading a book, +and playing with the locket on the end of his watch-chain. + +"Who are you, anyhow?" said Jimmieboy, as he peered over the arm, and +saw nothing but the Dictionary. + +"I'm myself--that's who," was the answer, and then Jimmieboy was +interested to see that it was nothing less than the Dictionary itself +that had addressed him. "You ought to be more careful about the way you +talk," added the Dictionary. "Your diction is airy without being +dictionary, if you know what that means, which you don't, as the Rose +remarked to the Cauliflower, when the Cauliflower said he'd be a finer +Rose than the Rose if he smelled as sweet." + +"I'm very sorry," Jimmieboy replied, meekly, "I forgot that the +dromedary only had one hump." + +"I don't believe you'd know a dromedary from a milk dairy if they both +stood before you," retorted the Dictionary. "Now would you?" + +"Yes, I think I would," said Jimmieboy. "The milk dairy would have cream +in bottles in its windows, and the dromedary wouldn't." + +"Ah, but you don't know why!" sang the Dictionary. "You don't even begin +to know why the dromedary wouldn't have cream in bottles in its +windows." + +"No," said Jimmieboy, "I don't. Why wouldn't he?" + +"Because he has no windows," laughed the Dictionary; "and between you +and me, that's one of the respects in which the dromedary is like a +base-drum--there isn't a solitary window in either of 'em." + +"You know a terrible lot, don't you?" said Jimmieboy, patronizingly. + +"Terrible isn't the word. I'm simply hideously learned," said the +Dictionary. "Why, I've been called a vocabulary, I know so many words." + +"I wish you'd tell me all you know," said Jimmieboy, resting his elbows +on the arms of the chair, and putting his chin on the palms of his two +hands. "I'd like to know more than papa does--just for once. Do you know +enough to tell me anything he doesn't know?" + +"Do I?" laughed the Dictionary. "Well, don't I? Rather. Why, I'm telling +him things all the time. He came and asked me the other night what +raucous meant, and how to spell macrobiotic." + +"And did you really know?" asked Jimmieboy, full of admiration for this +wonderful creature. + +"Yes; and a good deal more besides. Why, if he had asked me, I could +have told him what a zygomatic zoophagan is; but he never asked me. +Queer, wasn't it?" + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "What is one of those things?" + +"A zygomatic zoophagan? Why that's a--er--let me see," said the +Dictionary, turning over his leaves. "I like to search myself pretty +thoroughly before I commit myself to a definition. A zygomatic zoophagan +is a sort of cheeky animal that eats other animals. You are one, though +I wouldn't brag about it if I were you. You are an animal, and at times +a very cheeky animal, and I've seen you eat beef. That's what makes you +a zygomatic zoophagan." + +"Do I bite?" asked Jimmieboy, a little afraid of himself since he had +learned what a fearful creature he was. + +"Only at dinner-time, and unless you are very careless about it and eat +too hastily you need not be afraid. Very few zygomatic zoophagans ever +bite themselves. In fact, it never happened really but once that I know +of. That was the time the zoophagan got the best of the eight-winged +tallahassee. Ever hear about that?" + +"No, I never did," said Jimmieboy. "How did it happen?" + +"This way," said the Dictionary, as he stood up and made a bow to +Jimmieboy. And then he recited these lines: + +[Illustration: THE CALIPEE AND THE ZOOPHAGAN.] + +"THE CALIPEE AND THE ZOOPHAGAN." + + "The yellow-faced Zoophagan + Was strolling near the sea, + When from the depths of ocean + Sprang forth that dread amp-hib-ian, + The mawkish Calipee. + + "The Tallahassee bird sometimes + The Calipee is called. + His eyes are round and big as dimes, + He has eight wings, composes rhymes, + His head is very bald. + + "Now if there are two creatures in + This world who disagree-- + Two creatures full of woe and sin-- + They are the Zo-oph, pale and thin, + And that bad Calipee. + + "Whene'er they meet they're sure to fight, + No matter where they are; + Nor do they stop by day or night, + Till one is beaten out of sight, + Or safety seeks afar. + + "And, sad to say, the Calipee + Is stronger of the two; + And so he'd won the victory + At all times from his enemy, + The slight and slender Zoo. + + "But this time it went otherwise, + For, so the story goes, + As yonder sun set in the skies, + The Calipee, to his surprise, + Was whacked square on the nose. + + "Which is the fatal, mortal part + Of all the Calipees; + Much more important than the heart, + For life is certain to depart + When Cali cannot sneeze. + + "The world, surprised, asked 'How was it? + How did he do it so? + Where did the Zoo get so much wit? + How did he learn so well to hit + So fatally his foe?' + + "''Twas but his strategy,' then cried + The friends of little Zoo; + 'As Cali plunged, our hero shied, + Ran twenty feet off to one side, + And bit himself in two. + + "'And then, you see, the Calipee + Was certainly undone; + The Zo-oph beat him easily, + As it must nearly always be + When there are two to one.' + +"Rather a wonderful tale that," continued the Dictionary. "I don't know +that I really believe it, though. It's too great a tale for any dog to +wag, eh?" + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I don't think I believe it either. If the +zoophagan bit himself in two, I should think he'd have died. I know I +would." + +"No, you wouldn't," said the Dictionary; "because you couldn't. It isn't +a question of would and could, but of wouldn't and couldn't. By-the-way, +here's a chance for you to learn something. What's the longest letter in +the alphabet?" + +"They're all about the same, aren't they?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"They look so, but they aren't. L is the longest. An English ell is +forty-five inches long. Here's another. What letter does a Chinaman +wear on his head?" + +"Double eye!" cried Jimmieboy. + +"That's pretty good," said the Dictionary, with an approving nod; "but +you're wrong. He wears a Q. And I'll tell you why a Q is like a +Chinaman. Chinamen don't amount to a row of beans, and a Q is nothing +but a zero with a pig-tail. Do you know why they put A at the head of +the alphabet?" + +"No." + +"Because Alphabet begins with an A." + +"Then why don't they put T at the end of it?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"They do," said the Dictionary. "I-T--it." + +Jimmieboy laughed to himself. He had no idea there was so much fun in +the Dictionary. "Tell me something more," he said. + +"Let me see. Oh, yes," said the Dictionary, complacently. "How's this? + + "'Oh, what is a yak, sir?' the young man said; + 'I really much wish to hear.' + 'A queer-looking cad with a bushy head, + A buffalo-robe all over him spread, + And whiskers upon his ear.' + + "And tell me, I pray,' said the boy in drab, + Just what's a Thelphusi-an?' + 'A great big crab with nippers that nab + Whatever the owner desires to grab-- + A crusty crustace-an." + + "'I'm obliged,' said the boy, with a wide, wide smirk, + As he slowly moved away. + 'Will you tell me, sir, ere I go to work-- + To toil till the night brings along its murk-- + How high peanuts are to-day?' + + "And I had to give in, + For I couldn't say; + And the boy, with a grin, + Moved off on his way." + +"That was my own personal experience," said the Dictionary. "The boy was +a very mean boy, too. He went about telling people that there were a +great many things I didn't know, which was very true, only he never said +what they were, and his friends thought they were important things, like +the meaning of sagaciousness, and how many jays are there in geranium, +and others. If he'd told 'em that it was things like the price of +peanuts, and how are the fish biting to-day, and is your mother's +seal-skin sack plush or velvet, that I didn't know, they'd not have +thought it disgraceful. Oh, it was awfully mean!" + +"Particularly after you had told him what those other things were," said +Jimmieboy. + +"Yes; but I got even with him. He came to me one day to find out what an +episode was, and I told him it was a poem in hysterical hexameters, with +a refrain repeated every eighteenth line, to be sung to slow music." + +"And what happened?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"He told his teacher that, and he was kept in for two months, and made +to subtract two apples from one lunch every recess." + +"Oh, my, how awful!" cried Jimmieboy. + +"But it served him right. Don't you think so?" said the Dictionary. + +"Yes, I do," said Jimmieboy. "But tell me. What'll I tell papa that he +doesn't know?" + +"Tell him that a sasspipedon is a barrel with four sides, and is open at +both ends, and is a much better place for cigar ashes than his lap, +because they pass through it to the floor, and so do not soil his +clothes." + +"Good!" said Jimmieboy, peering across the room to where his father +still sat smoking. "I think I'll tell him now. Say, papa," he cried +sitting up, "what is a sasspipedon?" + +"I don't know. What?" answered Jimmieboy's father, laying his paper +down, and coming over to where the little boy sat. + +"It's a--it's a--it's an ash-barrel," said the little fellow, trying to +remember what the Dictionary had said. + +"Who said so?" asked papa. + +"The Dictionary," answered Jimmieboy. + +And when Jimmieboy's father came to examine the Dictionary on the +subject, the disagreeable old book hadn't a thing to say about the +sasspipedon, and Jimmieboy went up to bed wondering what on earth it all +meant, anyhow. + + + + +VI. + +JIMMIEBOY'S SNOWMAN. + + +The snow had been falling fast for well-nigh forty-eight hours and +Jimmieboy was almost crazy with delight. He loved the snow because it +was possible to do so much with it. One didn't need to go into a store, +for instance, and part with ten cents every time one happened to want a +ball, when there was snow on the ground. Then, too, Jimmieboy had a new +sled he wanted to try, but best of all, his father had promised to make +him a snowman, with shoe-buttons for eyes and a battered old hat on his +head, if perchance there could be found anywhere in the house a hat of +that sort. Fortunately a battered old hat was found, and the snowman +when finished looked very well in it. I say fortunately because +Jimmieboy had fully made up his mind that a battered hat was absolutely +necessary to make the snowman a success, and had not the old one been +found I very much fear the youth would have taken his father's new one +and battered that into the state of usefulness required to complete the +icy statue to his satisfaction. + +After the snowman was finished Jimmieboy romped about him and shouted in +great glee for an hour or more, and then, growing a little weary of the +sport, he ran up into his nursery to rest for a little while. He had not +been there very long however when he became, for some unknown reason, +uneasy about the funny looking creature he had left behind him. Running +to the window he looked out to see if the snowman was all right, and he +was much surprised to discover that he wasn't there at all. He couldn't +have melted, that was certain, for the air was colder than it had been +when the snowman was put up. No one could have stolen him because he was +too big, and so, well, it certainly was a strange conclusion, but none +the less the only one, he must have walked off himself. + +"It's mighty queer!" thought Jimmieboy. "He was there ten minutes ago." + +Then he ran down stairs and peered out of the window. At the front of +the house no snowman was in sight. Then he went to a side window and +looked out. Still no snowman. And then the door-bell rang, and Jimmieboy +went to the door and opened it, and, dear me! how he laughed when he saw +who it was that had rung the bell, as would also have you, for, +honestly, it was no one else than the snowman himself. + +"What do you want?" asked Jimmieboy. The snowman made a low bow to +Jimmieboy, and replied: + + "I got so weary standing there, + I thought I'd ask you for a chair; + 'Tis rather cool of me, I know, + But coolness in a man of snow + Is quite the fashion in these days, + And to be stylish always pays." + +"Won't you come in?" asked Jimmieboy politely. + +The snowman stared at Jimmieboy with all the power of the shoe-buttons. +He was evidently surprised. In a moment or two, however, he recovered +and said: + + "Indeed, I'll enter not that door, + I've tried it once or twice before." + +"What of that?" asked Jimmieboy. "Didn't you like it?" + + "Oh, yes; I liked it well enough, + Although it used me pretty rough; + I lost a nose and foot and ear, + Last time I happened to come here." + +"Do you always speak in rhyme?" asked Jimmieboy, noticing the snowman's +habit for the first time. + +"Always, except when I speak in prose," said the snowman. "But perhaps +you don't like rhyme?" + +"Yes, I do like rhyme very much," said Jimmieboy. + +"Then you like me," said the snowman, "because I'm mostly rime myself. +But say, don't stand there with the door open letting all the heat out +into the world. If you want to talk to me come outside where we can be +comfortable." + +"Very well," said Jimmieboy. "I'll come, if you'll wait until I bundle +up a little so as to keep warm." + +"All right, I'll wait," the snowman answered, "only don't you get too +warm. I'll take you up to where I live and introduce you to my boys if +you like--only hurry. If a thaw should set in we might have trouble. + + "Of all mean things I ever saw + The meanest of them is a thaw." + +Jimmieboy, pondering deeply over his curious experience, quickly donned +his overcoat and rubber boots, and in less time than it takes to tell it +was out of doors again with the snowman. The huge white creature smiled +happily as Jimmieboy came out, and taking him by the hand they went off +up the road together. + +"I'm glad you weren't offended with me because I wouldn't go in and sit +down in your house," said the snowman, after they had walked a little +way. "I had a very narrow escape thirty winters ago when I was young and +didn't know any better than to accept an invitation of that sort. I +lived in Russia then, and a small boy very much like you asked me to go +into his house with him and see some funny picture-books he had. I said +all right, and in I went, never thinking that the house was hot and that +I'd be in danger of melting away. The boy got out his picture-books and +we sat down before a blazing log fire. Suddenly the boy turned white as +I was, and cried out: + +"'Hi! What have you done with your leg?' + +"'I brought it in with me, didn't I?' I said, looking down to where the +leg ought to be, and noticing much to my concern that it was gone. + +"'I thought so,' said the boy. 'Maybe you left it down on the hat-rack +with your hat and cane.' + +"'Well I wish you'd go and see,' said I, very nervously. 'I don't want +to lose that leg if I can help it.' + +"So off the boy went," continued the snowman, "and I waited there before +the fire wondering what on earth had become of the missing limb. The boy +soon came back and announced that he couldn't find it. + +"'Then I must hop around until I do find it,' I put in, starting up. +Would you believe it, Jimmieboy, that the minute I tried to rise and hop +off on the search I discovered that my other leg was gone too?" + +"Dear me!" said Jimmieboy. "How dreadful." + +"It was fearful," returned the snowman, "but that wasn't half. I raised +my hand to my forehead so as to think better, when off dropped my right +arm, and as I reached out with my left to pick it up again that dropped +off too. Then as my vest also disappeared, the boy cried out: + +"'Why, I know what's the matter. You are melting away!' + +"He was right. The heat of the log fire was just withering me right up. +Fortunately as my neck began to go and my head rolled off the chair +onto the floor, the boy had presence of mind enough to pick it up--it +was all that was left of me--and throw it out of the window. If it +hadn't been for that timely act of his I should have met the horrid fate +of my cousin the iceberg." + +"What was that?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, he wanted to travel," said the snowman, "so he floated off down to +South America and waked up one morning to find himself nothing but a +tankful of the Gulf of Mexico. We never saw the poor fellow again." + +"I understand now why you didn't want to come in," said Jimmieboy, "and +I'm glad you didn't do as I asked you, for I don't think mamma would +have been pleased if you'd melted away in the parlor." + +"I know she wouldn't," said the snowman. "She's like the woman mentioned +in the poem, who + + "--hated flies and muddy shoes, + As well as pigs and kangaroos; + But most of all she did abhor, + A melted snow-drift on the floor." + +"Do you live near here?" asked Jimmieboy as he trudged along at the +snowman's side. + +"Well," replied the snowman, "I do, and I don't. When I do, I do, and +when I don't, it's otherwise. This climate doesn't agree with me in the +summer, and so when summer comes I move up to the North Pole. Ever been +there?" + +"No," said Jimmieboy, "what sort of a place is it?" + +"Fine," returned the snowman. "The thermometer is always at least twenty +miles below zero, even on the hottest days, and fire can't by any +possibility come near us. Only one fire ever tried to and it was frozen +stiff before it got within a hundred leagues of us. In winter, however, +I come to places like this, and bring my little boys with me. We hire a +convenient snow-drift and live in that. There's mine now right ahead of +you." + +Jimmieboy peered curiously along the road, at the far end of which he +could see a huge mound of snow like the one the famous blizzard had +piled up in front of his father's house some time before Jimmieboy and +the world came to know each other. + +"Do you live in that?" he asked. + +"Yes," said the snowman. "And I will say that it's one of the most +conveniently arranged snow-drifts I ever lived in. The house part of it +is always as cold as ice--it's cooled by a special kind of refrigerator +I had put in, which consumes about half a ton of ice a week." + +Jimmieboy laughed. + +"It's a cold furnace, eh?" he said. + +"Precisely," answered the snowman. "And besides that the house is +deliciously draughty so that we have no difficulty in keeping cold. Once +in a while my boys run in the sun and get warmed through, but I dose 'em +up with ice-water and cold cream and they soon get chilled again. But +come, shall we go in?" + +The pedestrians had by this time reached the side of the snow-drift, and +Jimmieboy was pleased to see a door at one side of it. This the snowman +opened, and they entered together a marvelously beautiful and extensive +garden glistening with frosty flowers and snow-clad trees. At the end of +the garden was a little white house that looked like the icing on +Jimmieboy's birthday cake. As they approached it, the door of the little +house was thrown open and a dozen small-sized snow boys rushed out and +began to pelt the snowman and Jimmieboy with tennis balls. + +"Hold up, boys," cried the snowman. "I've brought a friend home to see +you." + +The boys stopped at once, and Jimmieboy was introduced to them. For +hours they entertained him in the gardens and in the house. They showed +him wondrous snow toys, among which were rocking horses, railway trains, +soldiers--all made of the same soft fleecy substance from which the +snowman and his children were constructed. When he had played for a long +time with these they gave him caramels and taffy and cream cakes, these +also made of snow, though as far as their taste went they were better +than those made of sugar and chocolate and cream, or, at least, it +seemed so to Jimmieboy at the time. + +After this bit of luncheon the boys invited him out to coast, and he +went along with them to the top of a high hill without any snow upon it, +and for hours he and they slid from summit to base in great red-wheeled +wagons. It took his breath away the first time he went down, but when he +got used to it he found the sport delightful. He was glad, however, when +a voice from the little white house called to the children to return. + +"Come in now, boys," it said. "It is getting too warm for you to stay +out." + +The boys were obedient to the word and they all--a dozen of them at +least--trooped back into the house where Jimmieboy was welcomed by his +friend the snowman again. The snowman looked a little anxious, Jimmieboy +thought, but he supposed this was because the littlest snowboy had +overheated himself at his play and had come in minus two fingers and an +ear. It was not this, however, that bothered him, as Jimmieboy found out +in a few minutes, for the snowman simply restored the missing fingers +and the ear by making a new lot for the little fellow out of a handful +of snow he got in the garden. Anything so easily replaced was not worth +worrying over. The real cause of his anxiety came out when the father of +this happy little family of snow boys called Jimmieboy to one side. + +"You must go home right away," he said. "I'm sorry, but we have got to +fly just as hard as we can or we are lost." + +"But----" said Jimmieboy. + +"Don't ask for reasons," returned the snowman, gathering his little +snowboys together and rushing off with them in tow. "I haven't time to +give them. Just read that and you'll see. Farewell." + +Then he made off down the garden path, and as he fled with his babies +Jimmieboy picked up the thing the snowman had told him to read, and +wandered back into the house, holding it in his hand. It was only a +newspaper, but at the top of the first column was an announcement in +huge letters: + + WARM WAVE TO-NIGHT. + + * * * * * + + WISE SNOWMEN WILL MOVE NORTH AT ONCE. + +When Jimmieboy saw this he knew right away why he had been deserted, but +to this day he doesn't know how he knew it, because at the time this +happened he had not learned how to read. At all events he discovered +what the trouble was instantly, and then he decided that as he had been +left by all of his new friends he would go home. He walked to the front +door and opened it, and what do you suppose it opened into? + +The garden? + +Not a bit of it. + +Into Jimmieboy's nursery itself, and when the door closed upon him after +he had stepped through it into the nursery and Jimmieboy turned to look +at it, lo, and behold it wasn't there! + +Nor was the snowman to be found the next morning. It was quite evident +that he had got away from the warm wave that appeared on the scene the +night before, for there wasn't even a sign of the shoe-button eyes or +the battered hat, as there certainly would have been had he melted +instead of run away. + + + + +VII. + +THE BICYCLOPAEDIA BIRD. + + +"Boo!" said something. + +And Jimmieboy of course was startled. So startled was he that, according +to his own statement, he jumped ninety-seven feet, though for my own +part I don't believe he really jumped more than thirty-three. He was too +sleepy to count straight anyhow. He had been lolling under his canvas +tent down near the tennis-court all the afternoon, getting lazier and +lazier every minute, and finally he had turned over square on his back, +put his head on a small cushion his mamma had made for him, closed his +eyes, and then came the "Boo!" + +"I wonder--" he said, as he gazed about him, seeing no sign of any +creature that could by any possibility say "Boo!" however. + +"Of course you do. That's why I've come," interrupted a voice from the +bushes. "More children of your age suffer from the wonders than from +measles, mumps, or canthaves." + +"What are canthaves?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Canthaves are things you can't have. Don't you ever suffer because you +can't have things?" queried the voice. + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" returned Jimmieboy. "Lots and lots of times." + +"And didn't you ever have the wonders so badly that you got cross and +wouldn't eat anything but sweet things for dinner?" the voice asked. + +"I don't know exactly what you mean by the wonders," replied Jimmieboy. + +"Why, wonders is a disease that attacks boys who want to know why things +are and can't find out," said the voice. + +"Oh, my, yes I've had that lots of times," laughed Jimmieboy. "Why, only +this morning I asked my papa why there weren't any dandelionesses, and +he wouldn't tell me because he said he had to catch a train, and I've +been wondering why ever since." + +"I thought you'd had it; all boys do get it sooner or later, and it's a +thing you can have any number of times unless you have me around," said +the voice. + +"What are you anyhow?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"I'm what they call the Encyclopaedia Bird. I'm a regular owl for wisdom. +I know everything--just like the Cyclopaedia; and I have two wheels +instead of legs, which is why they call me the Bicyclopaedia Bird. I +can't let you see me, because these are not my office hours. I can only +be seen between ten and two on the thirty-second of March every +seventeenth year. You can get a fair idea of what I look like from my +photograph, though." + +[Illustration] + +As the voice said this, sure enough a photograph did actually pop out of +the bush, and land at Jimmieboy's feet. He sprang forward eagerly, +stooped, and picking it up, gazed earnestly at it. And a singular +creature the Bicyclopaedia Bird must have been if the photograph did him +justice. He had the head of an owl, but his body was oblong in shape, +just like a book, and, as the voice had said, in place of legs were two +wheels precisely like those of a bicycle. The effect was rather +pleasing, but so funny that Jimmieboy really wanted to laugh. He did not +laugh, however, for fear of hurting the Bird's feelings, which the Bird +noticed and appreciated. + +"Thank you," he said, simply. + +"What for?" asked Jimmieboy, looking up from the photograph, and peering +into the bush in the vain hope of catching a glimpse of the Bird itself. + +"For not laughing," replied the Bird. "If you had laughed I should have +biked away at once because I am of no value to any one who laughs at my +personal appearance. It always makes me forget all I know, and that does +me up for a whole year. If I forget all I know, you see, I have to study +hard to learn it all over again, and that's a tremendous job, +considering how much knowledge there is to be had in the world. So you +see, by being polite and kind enough not to laugh at me, who can't help +being funny to look at, and who am not to blame for looking that way, +because I am not a self-made Bird, you are really the gainer, for I +promise you I'll tell you anything you want to know." + +"That's very nice of you," returned Jimmieboy; "and perhaps, to begin +with, you'll tell me something that I ought to want to know, whether I +do or not." + +"That is a very wise idea," said the Bicyclopaedia Bird, "and I'll try to +do it. Let me see; now, do you know why the Pollywog is always amiable?" + +"No," returned Jimmieboy. "I never even knew that he was, and so +couldn't really wonder why." + +"But you wonder why now, don't you?" asked the voice, anxiously. "For if +you don't, I can't tell you." + +"I'm just crazy to know," Jimmieboy responded. + +"Then listen, and I will tell you," said the voice. And then the strange +bird recited this poem about + +THE POLLYWOG. + + "The Pollywog's a perfect type + Of amiability. + He never uses angry speech + Wherever he may be. + He never calls his brother names, + Or tweaks his sister's nose; + He never pulls the sea-dog's tail, + Or treads upon his toes. + + "He never says an unkind word, + And frown he never will. + A smile is ever on his lips, + E'en when he's feeling ill. + And this is why: when Pollywog + The first came on the scene, + He had a temper like a cat's-- + His eye with it was green. + + "Now, just about the time when he + Began to lose his tail, + To change into a croaking frog, + He came across a nail-- + A nail so rusty that it looked + Just like an angle-worm, + Except that it was straight and stiff, + And so could never squirm. + + "And Polly, feeling hungry, to + Assuage his appetite, + Swam boldly up to that old nail, + And gave it such a bite, + He nearly broke his upper jaw; + His lower jaw he bent. + And then he got so very mad, + His temper simply went. + + "He lost it so completely as + He lashed and gnashed around, + That though this happened years ago, + It has not since been found. + And that is why, at all times, in + The Pollywog you see, + A model of that virtue rare-- + True Amiability." + +"Now, I dare say," continued the Bird--"I dare say you might have asked +your father--who really knows a great deal, considering he isn't my twin +brother--sixteen million four hundred and twenty-three times why the +Pollywog is always so good-natured, and he couldn't have answered you +more than once out of the whole lot, and he'd have been wrong even +then." + +"It must be lovely to know so much," said Jimmieboy. + +"It is," said the Bird; "that is, it is lovely when you don't have to +keep it all to yourself. It's very nice to tell things. That's really +the best part of secrets, I think. It is such fun telling them. Now, +why does the sun rise in the morning?" + +"I don't know. Why?" + +"For the same reason that you do," returned the sage Bird. "Because it +is time to get up." + +"Well, here's a thing I don't know about," said Jimmieboy. "What is 'to +alarm?'" + +"To frighten--to scare--to discombobulate," replied the Bird. "Why?" + +"Well, I don't see why an alarm-clock is called an alarm-clock, because +it doesn't ever alarm anybody," said Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, it doesn't, eh?" cried the Bird. "Well, that's just where you are +mistaken. It alarms the people or the animals you dream about when you +are asleep, and they make such a noise getting away that they wake you +up. Why, an alarm-clock saved my life once. I dreamed that I fell asleep +on board a steamboat that went so fast hardly anybody could stay on +board of her--she just regularly slipped out from under their feet, and +unless a passenger could run fast enough to keep up with her, or was +chained fast enough to keep aboard of her, he'd get dropped astern every +single time. I dreamed I was aboard of her one day, and that to keep on +deck I chained myself to the smoke-stack, and then dozed off. Just as I +was dozing, a Misinformation Bird, who was jealous of me, sneaked up and +cut the chain. As he expected, the minute I was cut loose the boat +rushed from under me, and the first thing I knew I was struggling in the +water. While I was struggling there, I was attacked by a Catfish. Cats +are death to birds, you know, and I really had given myself up for lost, +when '_ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling_' went the alarm-clock in the corner of +my cage; the fish turned blue with fear, swished his tail about in his +fright, and the splashing of the water waked me up, and there I was +standing on one wheel on my perch, safe and sound. If that clock hadn't +gone off and alarmed that Catfish, I am afraid I should have been +forever lost to the world." + +"I see now; but I never knew before why it was called an alarm-clock, +and I've wondered about it a good deal," said Jimmieboy. "Now, here's +another thing I've bothered over many a time: What's the use of weeds?" + +"Oh, that's easy," said the Bird, with a laugh. "To make lawns look +prettier next year than they do this." + +"I don't see how that is," said Jimmieboy. + +"Clear as window-glass. This year you have weeds on your lawn, don't +you?" + +"Yes," returned Jimmieboy. + +"And you make them get out, don't you?" said the Bird. + +"Yes," assented Jimmieboy. + +"Well, there you are. By getting out they make your lawns prettier. +That's one of the simplest things in the world. But here's a thing I +should think you'd wonder at. Why do houses have shutters on their +windows?" asked the Bird. + +"I know why," said Jimmieboy. "It's to keep the sun out." + +"That's nonsense, because the sun is so much larger than any house that +was ever built it couldn't get in if it tried," returned the feathered +sage. + +"Then I don't know why. Why?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"So as to wake people up by banging about on windy nights, and they are +a mighty useful invention too," said the Bird. "I knew of a whole family +that got blown away once just because they hadn't any shutters to bang +about and warn them of their danger. It was out in the West, where they +have cyclones, which are things that pick up houses and toss them about +just as you would pebbles. A Mr. and Mrs. Podlington had built a house +in the middle of a big field for themselves and their seventeen +children. Mr. Podlington was very rich, but awful mean, and when the +house was finished, all except the shutters, he said he wasn't going to +have any shutters because they cost too much, and so they hadn't a +shutter on the house. One night after they had lived where they were +about six months they all went to bed about nine o'clock, and by ten +they were sound asleep, every one of them. At eleven o'clock a breeze +sprang up. This grew very shortly into a gale. Then it became a +hurricane, and by two o'clock it was a cyclone. One cyclone wouldn't +have hurt much, but at three o'clock two more came along, and the first +thing the Podlington family knew their house was blown off its +foundations, lifted high up in the air, and at breakfast-time was out of +sight, and, what is worse, it has never come down anywhere, and all this +happened ten years ago." + +"But where did it go?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Nobody knows. Maybe it landed in the moon. Maybe it's being blown about +on the wings of those cyclones yet. I don't believe we'll ever know," +answered the Bird. "But you can see just why that all happened. It was +Mr. Podlington's meanness about the shutters, and nothing else. If he +had had shutters on that house, at least one of them would have flopped +bangety-bang against the house all night, and the chances are that they +would all have been waked up by it before the cyclone came, and in +plenty of time to save themselves. In fact, I think very likely they +could have fastened the house more securely to the ground, and saved it +too, if they had waked up and seen what was going on." + +[Illustration: "I'LL NEVER BUILD A HOUSE WITHOUT SHUTTERS."] + +"I'll never build a house without shutters," said Jimmieboy, as he tried +to fancy the condition of the Podlingtons whisking about in the air for +ten long years--nearly five years longer than he himself had lived. If +they had landed in the moon it wouldn't have been so bad, but this other +possible and even more likely fate of mounting on the wind ever higher +and higher and not landing anywhere was simply dreadful to think about. + +"I wouldn't, especially in the cyclone country," returned the voice in +the bush. "But I'll tell you of one thing that would save you if you +really did have to build a house without shutters; build it with wings. +You've heard of houses with wings, of course?" + +"Yes, indeed," said Jimmieboy. "Why, our house has three wings. One of +'em was put on it last summer, so that we could have a bigger +kitchen." + +"I remember," said the Bird. "I wondered a good deal about that wing +until I found out it was for a kitchen, and not to fly with. The house +had enough wings to fly with without the new one. In fact, the new one +for flying purposes would be as useless as a third wheel to a bicycle." + +"What do you mean by to fly with?" asked Jimmieboy, puzzled at this +absurd remark of the Bird. + +"Exactly what I say. Wings are meant to fly with, aren't they? I hope +you knew that!" said the Bird. "So if the Podlingtons' house had had +wings it might have got back all right. It could have worked its way +slowly out of the cyclone, and then sort of rested on its wings a little +until it was prepared to swoop down on to its old foundations, alighting +just where it was before. A trip through the air under such +circumstances would have been rather pleasant, I think--much pleasanter +than going off into the air forever, without any means of getting back." + +"But," asked Jimmieboy, "even if Mr. Podlington's house had had wings, +how could he have made them work?" + +"Why, how stupid of you!" cried the Bird. "Don't you know that he could +have taken hold of the----" + +"Ting-a-ling-a-ling a-ling-a-ling!" rang the alarm-clock up in the +cook's room, which had been set for six o'clock in the afternoon instead +of for six in the morning by some odd mistake of Mary Ann's. + +"The alarm! The alarm!" shrieked the Bird, in terror. + +And then the invisible creature, if Jimmieboy could judge by the noise +in the bush, seemed to make off as fast as he could go, his cries of +fear growing fainter and fainter as the wise Bird got farther and +farther away, until finally they died away in the distance altogether. + +Jimmieboy sprang to his feet, looked down the road along which his +strange friend had fled, and then walked into the house, wishing that +the alarm-clock had held off just a little longer, so that he might have +learned how the wings of a house should be managed to make the house fly +off into the air. He really felt as if he would like to try the +experiment with his own house. + + + + +VIII. + +GIANT THE JACK KILLER. + + +Jimmieboy was turning over the pages of his fairy book the other night, +trying to refresh his memory concerning the marvelous doings of the +fairy-land people by looking at the pictures. His papa was too tired to +read to him, and as no one else in the house was willing to undertake +the task, the boy was doing his best to entertain himself, and as it +happened he got more out of his own efforts than he ever derived from +the efforts of others. He had dallied long over the weird experiences of +Cinderella, and had just turned over the pages which lead up to the +story of Jack the Giant Killer, when something in the picture of the +Giant's castle seemed to move. + +Looking a little more closely at the picture in a startled sort of way, +Jimmieboy saw that the moving thing was the knob of the castle door, and +in a jiffy the door itself opened, and a huge homely creature whom +Jimmieboy recognized at once as an ogre stuck his head out. For a moment +the little fellow felt disposed to cry for help. Surely if the Giant +could open the door in the picture there was no reason why he should not +step out of the book entirely and make a speedy meal of Jimmieboy, who, +realizing that he was entirely unarmed, was inclined to run and hide +behind his papa's back. His fast oozing courage was quickly restored, +however, by the Giant himself, who winked at him in a genial sort of +fashion as much as to say: "Nonsense, boy, I wouldn't eat you, if I +could." The wink he followed up at once with a smile, and then he said: + +"That you, Jimmieboy?" + +"Yes, sir," said Jimmieboy, very civilly indeed. "I'm me. Are you you?" + +The Giant laughed. + +"Yes," he replied, "and so, of course, we are ourselves. Are you very +busy?" + +"Not very," said Jimmieboy. "Why?" + +"I want a little advice from you," the Giant answered. "I think it's +about time the tables were turned on that miserable little ruffian +Jack. The idea of a big thing like me being killed every day of his +life by a mosquito like Jack is very tiresome, and I want to know if you +don't think it would be fair if I should kill him just once for the sake +of variety. It won't hurt him. He'll come to life again right away just +as we Giants do----" + +"Don't you stay dead when Jack kills you?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"You know the answer to that as well as I do," said the Giant. "You've +had this story read to you every day now for three years, haven't you?" + +"About that," said Jimmieboy. + +"Well, if we staid dead how do you suppose we'd be on hand to be killed +again the next time you had the story read to you?" + +"I never thought of that," said Jimmieboy. + +"Never thought of it?" echoed the ogre. "Why, what kind of thoughts do +you think, anyhow? It's the only thought for a thinker to think I think, +don't you think so?" + +"Say that again, will you?" said Jimmieboy. + +"Couldn't possibly," said the ogre. "In fact, I've forgotten it. But +what do you think of my scheme? Don't you think it would be wise if I +killed Jack just once?" + +"Perhaps it would," said the boy. "That is if it wouldn't hurt him." + +"Hurt him? Didn't I tell you it wouldn't hurt him?" said the Giant. "I +wouldn't hurt that boy for all the world. If I did I'd lose my position. +Why, all I am I owe to him. The fairy people let me live in this +magnificent castle for nothing. They let me rob them of all their +property, and all I have to do in return for this is to be killed by +Jack whenever any little boy or girl in your world desires to be amused +by a tragedy of that sort. So you see I haven't any hard feelings +against him, even if I did call him a miserable little ruffian." + +"Well, I don't exactly like to have Jack killed," said Jimmieboy. "I've +always rather liked him. What do you suppose he would say to it?" + +"That's just the point. I wouldn't kill him unless he was willing. That +would be a violation of my agreement with him, and when he came to he +might sue me for what the lawyers call a breach of contract," said the +ogre. "Now, it seemed to me that if you were to go to Jack and tell him +that you were getting a little tired of having this story end the way it +does all the time, and that you thought it only fair to me that I +should have a chance to celebrate a victory, say once a week--every +Saturday night for instance--he'd be willing to do it." + +"Where can I find him?" asked Jimmieboy. "I just as lief ask him." + +"He's in the picture, two pages farther along, sharpening his sword," +said the ogre. + +"Very well, I'll go see him at once," said Jimmieboy. Then he said +good-by to the Giant, and turned over the pages until he came to the +pictures showing how Jack sharpened his sword on the soles of the shoes +of another giant, whom he had bound and strapped to the floor. + +At first Jimmieboy did not know how to address him. He had often spoken +to the figures in the pictures, but they had never replied to anything +he had said. However, he made a beginning. + +"Ahem!" he said. + +The effect was pleasing, for as he said this Jack stopped sharpening his +blade and turned to see who had spoken. + +"Ah, Jimmieboy!" said the small warrior. "Howdy do. Haven't seen much of +you this week. You've been paying more attention to Hop o' My Thumb than +to me lately." + +"Well, I love you just the same," said Jimmieboy. "I've just seen the +Giant that lives up in the castle with the dragon on the front stoop." + +"He's a good fellow," said Jack. "I'm very fond of him. He never gives +me any trouble, and dies just as easy as if he were falling off a log, +and out of business hours we're great chums. He's had something on his +mind lately, though, that I don't understand. He says being killed every +day is getting monotonous." + +"That's what he said to me," said Jimmieboy. + +"Well, I hope he doesn't resign his position," said Jack, thoughtfully. +"I know it isn't in every way a pleasant one, but he might go farther +and fare worse. The way I kill him is painless, but if he got into that +Bean-stalk boy's hands he'd be all bruised up. You can't fall a mile +without getting hurt, you know, and I like the old fellow too well to +have him go over to that Bean-stalk cousin of mine." + +"He likes you, too," said Jimmieboy, pleased to find that there was so +much good feeling between the two creatures. "But he thinks he ought to +get a chance to win once in a while. He said if he could arrange it with +you to have him kill you once a week--Saturday nights, for +instance--he'd be perfectly contented." + +"That's reasonable enough," said Jack, nodding his head approvingly. +"Did he say how he would like to do it?" + +"No, only that he'd kill you tenderly, so that you wouldn't suffer," +said Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, I know that!" said Jack, softly. "He's too tender-hearted to hurt +anybody. I'm very much inclined to agree to the proposition, but he must +let me choose the manner of the killing. He hasn't had much practice +killing people, and if he were to do it by hitting me on the head with a +stick of wood I'd be likely to wake up with a headache next day; neither +should I like to be smothered because while that doesn't bruise one or +break any bones its awfully stuffy, and if there's one thing I like it +is fresh air." + +"Perhaps he might eat you," suggested Jimmieboy. + +"He isn't big enough to do that comfortably," said Jack, shaking his +head. "He'd have to cut me up and chew me, because his throat isn't +large enough for him to swallow me at one gulp. But I'll tell you what +you can do. You go back to him, and tell him that I'll agree to his +proposition, if he'll have me cooked in a plum-pudding four hundred feet +in circumference. I'm very fond of plum-pudding, and while he is eating +it from the outside I could be eating it from the inside, and, of +course, I shouldn't be burned in the cooking, because in the middle of a +pudding of that size the heat never could reach me." + +"But when he reached you," said Jimmieboy, "you'd have the same trouble +you said you'd have if he ate you up. He'd have to cut you to pieces and +chew you." + +"Ah!" said Jack, "don't you see my point? By the time he reached me he +would have eaten so much plum-pudding that he wouldn't have room for me, +so I'd escape." + +"But, then, you wouldn't be killed," said Jimmieboy. + +"That wouldn't make any difference," said Jack. "We'd stop the story +before I escaped and everybody would think I'd been eaten up, and that's +all he wants. He just wants to seem to win once. He doesn't really care +about killing me dead. Don't you see." + +"Yes, I think I do," said Jimmieboy, "and I'll go back and tell him what +you say." + +"Thank you," said Jack. "And while you are there give him my love, and +tell him I'll be around to kill him as usual after tea." + +All of which Jimmieboy did and the Giant readily agreeing to the +plum-pudding scheme, said good-night to his little visitor, and retired +into the castle, closing the door after him. + +Then Jimmieboy went to bed in a great hurry, because he knew how sleep +made time seem shorter than it really was, and he was very anxious to +have Saturday night come around so that he could see how the new ending +to the story of Jack the Giant Killer worked. + +As yet that Saturday night has not turned up, so that I really cannot +tell you whether or not the arrangement was a success. + + + + +IX. + +JIMMIEBOY AND THE FIREWORKS. + + +There was whispering going on somewhere, and Jimmieboy felt that it was +his duty to find out where it was, who it was that was doing it, and +what it was that was being whispered. It was about an hour after supper +on the evening of July 3d when it all happened. A huge box full of +fire-works had arrived only a few hours before, and Jimmieboy was +somewhat afraid that the whisperings might have come from burglars who, +knowing that there were thirty-five rockets, twenty Roman candles, +colored lights by the dozen, and no end of torpedoes and fire-crackers +and other things in the house, had come to steal them, and, if he could +help himself, Jimmieboy was not going to allow that. So he began to +search about, and in a few minutes he had located the whisperers in the +very room at the foot of the back stairs in which the fire-works were. +His little heart almost stopped beating for a moment when he realized +this. It isn't pleasant to feel that perhaps you will be deprived, after +all, of something you have looked forward to for a whole month, and upon +the very eve of the fulfillment of your dearest hopes at that. + +"I'll have to tell papa about this," he said; and then, realizing that +his papa was not at home, and that his mamma was up stairs trying to +convince his small brother that it would be impossible to get the moon +into the nursery, although it looked much smaller even than the nursery +window, Jimmieboy resolved that he would take the matter in hand +himself. + +"A boygler wouldn't hurt me, and maybe if I talk gruff and keep out of +sight, he'll think I'm papa and run," he said. + +Then he tried his gruff voice, and it really was tremendously +gruff--about as gruff as the bark of a fox-terrier. After he had done +this, he tip-toed softly down the stairs until he stood directly +opposite the door of the room where the fire-works were. + +"Move on, you boygler you!" he cried, just as he thought his father +would have said it. + +The answer was an explosion--not exactly of fire-works, but of mirth. + +"He thinks somebody's trying to steal us," said a funny little voice, +the like of which Jimmieboy had never heard before. + +"How siss-siss-sissingular of him," said another voice that sounded like +a fire-cracker missing fire. + +"He thinks he can fool us by imitating the voice of his +pop-pop-pop-popper," put in a third voice, with a laugh. + +At which Jimmieboy opened the door and looked in, and then he saw whence +the whispering had come, and to say that he was surprised at what he saw +is a too mild way of putting it. He was so astonished that he lost all +control over his joints, and the first thing he knew he was sitting on +the floor. The spectacle had, in fact, knocked him over, as well it +might, for there, walking up and down the floor, swarming over chairs +and tables, playing pranks with each other, and acting in a generally +strange fashion, were the fire-works themselves. It was interesting, and +at the same time alarming, for one or two reckless sky-rockets were +smoking, a lot of foolish little fire-crackers were playing with matches +in one corner, and a number of the great big cannon torpedoes were +balancing themselves on the arms of the gas-fixture, utterly heedless of +the fact that if they were to fall to the floor they would explode and +be done for forever. + +"Hullo, Jimmieboy!" said one of the larger rockets, taking off his funny +little cap at the astonished youngster. "I suppose you've come down to +see us rehearse?" + +"I thought somebody was stealing you, and I came down to frighten them +away," Jimmieboy replied. + +The Rocket laughed. "Nobody can steal us," it said. "If anybody came to +steal us, we'd cry, and get so soaked with tears nobody could get us to +go off, so what good would we be?" + +"Not much, I guess," said Jimmieboy. + +"That's the answer," returned the Rocket. "You seem to be good at +riddles. Let me give you another. What's the difference between a man +who steals a whole wig and a fire-cracker?" + +"I am sure I don't know," said Jimmieboy, still too full of wonderment +to think out an answer to a riddle like that. + +"Why, one goes off with a whole head of hair," said the Rocket, "and the +other goes off only with a bang." + +"That's good," said Jimmieboy. "Make it up yourself?" + +"No," said the Rocket. "I got that out of the magazine." + +"What magazine?" asked Jimmieboy, innocently. + +"The powder-magazine," roared the Rocket, and then the Pin Wheel and +other fire-works danced about, and threw themselves on the floor with +laughter--all except the Torpedoes, which jumped up and down on a soft +plush chair, where they were safe. + +When the laughter over the Rocket's wit had subsided, one of the Roman +Candles called to the Giant Cracker, and asked him to sing a song for +Jimmieboy. + +"I can't sing to-night," said the Cracker. "I'm very busy making ready +my report for to-morrow." + +[Illustration: THE GIANT CRACKER SINGING HIS SONG.] + +Here the Cracker winked at Jimmieboy, as much as to say, "How is that +for a joke?" Whereat Jimmieboy winked back to show that he thought it +wasn't bad; which so pleased the Cracker that he said he guessed, after +all, he would sing his song if the little Crackers would stop playing +until he got through. The little Crackers promised, and the Giant +Cracker sang this song: + +"THE GIANT CRACKER AND THE MANDARIN'S DAUGHTER. + + "He was a Giant Cracker bold, + His name was Wing-Hi-Ee. + He wore a dress of red and gold-- + Was handsome as could be. + His master was a Mandarin, + Who lived in old Shang-Hai, + And had a daughter named Ah Din, + With sweet blue almond eye. + + "Now Wing he loved this Saffron Queen, + And Ah Din she loved him; + But Chinese law came in between + Them with its measures grim. + For you must know, in that far land, + Where dwell the heathen wild, + A Cracker may not win the hand + Of any noble's child. + + "This made their love a hopeless one-- + Alas! that it should be + That anywhere beneath the sun + Exists such misery! + So they resolved, since she could not + Become his cherished bride, + Together they'd seek out some spot + And there they'd suicide. + + "They hastened, weeping, from the town, + Wing-Hi and fair Ah Din, + And on the river-bank sat down + Until the tide came in. + Then Wing-Hi whispered, sitting there, + With tear-drops in his eye, + 'Good-by, Ah Din!' And, in despair, + She answered him, 'Good-by.' + + "And then she grasped a sulphur match; + She lit it on her shoe, + Whereat, with neatness and dispatch, + Wing-Hi she touched it to. + There came a flash, there came a shriek, + A sound surpassing weird, + And Wing-Hi brave and Ah Din meek + In pieces disappeared." + +"Isn't that lovely?" asked the Rocket, his voice husky with emotion. + +"It's very fine," said Jimmieboy. "It's rather sad, though." + +"Yes; but it might have been sadder, you know," said the Giant Cracker. +"She might not have loved him at all; and if she hadn't loved him, he +wouldn't have wasted a match committing suicide for her sake, and then +there wouldn't have been any tragedy, and, of course, no song would have +been written about it. Why, there is no end to the misery there might +have been." + +Here one of the Torpedoes fell off the gas-fixture to the floor, where +he exploded with a loud noise. There was a rush from all sides to see +whether the poor little fellow was done for forever. + +"Send for the doctor," said the Pin Wheel. "I think he can be mended." + +"No, don't," said the injured Torpedo. "I can fix myself up again. Send +for a whisk broom and bring me a parlor match, and I'll be all right." + +"What's the whisk broom for?" asked Jimmieboy, somewhat surprised at the +remedies suggested. + +"Why," said the Torpedo, "if you will sweep me together with the whisk +broom and wrap me up carefully, I'll eat the head off the parlor match, +and I'll be all right again. The match head will give me all the snap I +need, and if you'll wrap me up in the proper way, I'll show you what +noise is to-morrow. You'll think I'm some relation to that Miss Din in +the Giant Cracker's song, unless I'm mistaken, when you hear me explode." + +The Fire-crackers jeered a little at this, because there has always been +more or less jealousy between the Torpedoes and the Fire-crackers, but +the Rocket soon put a stop to their sneers. + +"What's the use of jeering?" he said. "You don't know whether he'll make +much noise or not. The chances are he'll make more noise than a great +many of you Crackers, who are just as likely as not to turn out sissers +in the long-run." + +The Fire crackers were very much abashed by the Rocket's rebuke, and +retired shamefacedly into their various packs, whereupon the Pin Wheel +suggested that the Rocket recite his poem telling the singular story of +Nate and the Rocket. + +"Would you like to hear that story, Jimmieboy?" asked the Rocket. + +"Very much," said Jimmieboy. "The name of it sounds interesting." + +"Well, I'll try to tell it. It's pretty long, and your ears are short; +but we can try it, as the boy observed to the man who said he didn't +think the boy's mouth was large enough to hold four pieces of strawberry +short-cake. So here goes. The real title of the poem is + +"THE DREADFUL FATE OF NAUGHTY NATE. + + "Way back in eighty-two or three-- + I don't recall the date-- + There lived somewhere--'twixt you and me, + I really can't locate + The place exact; say Sangaree-- + A lad; we'll call him Nate. + + "His father was a grocer, or + A banker, or maybe + He kept a thriving candy store, + For all that's known to me. + Perhaps he was the Governor + Of Maine or Floridee. + + "At any rate, he had a dad-- + Or so the story's told; + Most youngsters that I've known have had-- + And Nate's had stacks of gold, + And those who knew him used to add, + He spent it free and bold. + + "If Nate should ask his father for + A dollar or a cent, + His father'd always give him more + Than for to get he went; + And then, before the day was o'er, + Nate always had it spent. + + "Molasses taffy, circus, cake, + Tarts, soda-water, pie, + Hot butter-scotch, or rare beefsteak, + Or silk hats, Nate could buy. + His father'd never at him shake + His head and ask him 'Why?' + + "'For but one thing,' his father cried, + 'You must not spend your store; + Sky-rockets I cannot abide, + So buy them never more. + Let such, I pray, be never spied + Inside of my front door.' + + "But Nate, alas! did not obey + His father's orders wise. + He hied him forth without delay, + Ignoring tarts and pies, + And bought a rocket huge, size A, + 'The Monarch of the Skies.' + + "He clasped it tightly to his breast, + And smiled a smile of glee; + And as the sun sank in the west, + He sat beneath a tree, + And then the rocket he invest- + I-g-a-t-e-d. + + "Alas for Nate! The night was warm; + June-bugs and great fire-flies + Around about his head did swarm; + The mercury did rise; + And then a fine electric storm + Played havoc in the skies. + + "Now if, perchance, it was a fly, + I'm not prepared to say; + Or if 'twas lightning from the sky, + That came along that way; + Or if 'twas only brought on by + The heat of that warm day, + + "I am not certain, but 'tis clear + There came a sudden boom, + And high up in the atmosphere, + Enlightening the gloom, + The rocket flew, a fiery spear, + And Nate, too, I presume. + + "For never since that July day + Has any man seen Nate. + But far off in the Milky Way, + Astronomers do state, + A comet brilliant, so they say, + Doth round about gyrate. + + "It's head's so like small Natty's face, + They think it's surely he, + Aboard that rocket-stick in space, + Still mounting constantly; + And still must mount until no trace + Of it at all we see." + +[Illustration: NATE AS A COMET.] + +"Isn't that the most fearfully awfully terribly horribly horribly +terribly fearful bit of awfulness you ever heard?" queried the Rocket, +when he had finished. + +"It is indeed," said Jimmieboy. "It really makes me feel unhappy, and I +wish you hadn't told it to me." + +"I would not bother about it," said the Rocket; "because really the best +thing about it is that it never happened." + +"Suppose it did happen," said Jimmieboy, after thinking it over for a +minute or two. "Would Nate ever get back home again?" + +"Oh, he might," returned the Rocket. "But not before six or seven +million years, and that would make him late for tea, you know. +By-the-way," the Rocket added, "do you know the best kind of tea to have +on Fourth of July?" + +"No," said Jimmieboy. "What?" + +"R-o-c-k-e-tea," said the Rocket. + +The Pin Wheels laughed so heartily at this that one of them fell over +on a box of Blue Lights and set them off, and the Rocket endeavoring to +put them out was set going himself, and the first thing Jimmieboy knew, +his friend gave a fearful siss, and disappeared up the chimney. The +sparks from the Rocket falling on the Roman Candles started them along, +and three or four balls from them landed on a flower piece which was +soon putting forth the most beautiful fiery roses imaginable, one of +which, as it gave its dying sputter, flew up and landed on the fuse of a +great set piece that was supposed to have a motto on it. Jimmieboy was +almost too frightened to move, so he just sat where he was, and stared +at the set piece until he could read the motto, which was, strange to +say, no motto at all, but simply these words in red, white, and blue +fire, "Wake up, and go to bed right." Whereupon Jimmieboy rubbed his +eyes, and opened them wider than ever to find his papa bending over him, +and saying the very words he had seen on the set piece. + +Probably the reason why his papa was saying this was that Jimmieboy had +been found by him on his return home lying fast asleep, snuggled up in +the corner of the library lounge. + +As for the fire-works, in some way or other they all managed to get +back into the box again in good condition, except the broken torpedo, +which was found in the middle of the floor just where it had fallen. +Which Jimmieboy thinks was very singular. + + + + +X. + +JIMMIEBOY'S PHOTOGRAPH. + + +Jimmieboy had been taken to the photographer's and had posed several +times for the man who made pictures of little boys. One picture showed +how he looked leaning against a picket fence with a tiger skin rug under +his feet. Another showed him in the act of putting his hands into his +pockets, while a third was a miserable attempt to show how he looked +when he couldn't stand still. The last pleased Jimmieboy very much. It +made him laugh and Jimmieboy liked laughing better than anything, +perhaps, excepting custard, which was his idea of real solid bliss. Why +it made him laugh, I do not know, unless it was because in the picture +he was very much blurred and looked something like a mixture of a cloud +and a pin-wheel. + +"I like that one," Jimmieboy said to his mother, when the proof came +home. "Won't you let me have it?" + +"Yes," said his mother. "You can have it. I don't think any one else +wants it." + +So the proof became Jimmieboy's property, and he put it away in his +collection of treasures, which already contained many valuable things, +such as the whistle of a rubber ball, a piece of elastic, and a worn-out +tennis racket. These treasures the boy used to have out two or three +times a day, and the last time he had them out something queer happened. +The blurred little figure in the picture spoke to him and told him +something he didn't forget in a hurry. + +"You think I'm a funny-looking thing don't you?" said the blurred +picture of himself. + +"Yes, I do," said Jimmieboy, "that's why I laugh at you whenever I see +you." + +"Well, I laugh when I see you, too," retorted the picture. "You are just +as funny to look at sometimes as I am." + +"I'm not either," said Jimmieboy. "I don't look like a cloud or a +pin-wheel, and you do." + +"I'm a picture of you, just the same," returned the proof, "and if you +had stood still when the man was taking you, I'd have been all right. +It's awful mean the way little boys have of not standing still when +they are having their pictures taken, and then laughing at the thing +they're responsible for afterward." + +"I didn't mean to be mean," said Jimmieboy. + +"Perhaps not," retorted the picture, "but if it hadn't been for you I'd +have been a lovely picture, and your mamma would have had a nice little +silver frame put around me, and maybe I'd have been standing on your +papa's desk with the inkstand and the mucilage instead of having to live +all my life with a broken whistle and a tennis bat that nobody but you +has any use for." + +Here the picture sighed, and Jimmieboy felt very sorry for it. + +"Boys don't know what a terrible lot of horrid things happen because +they don't stand still sometimes," continued the picture. "I know of +lots of cases where untold misery has come from movey boys." + +"From what?" queried Jimmieboy. + +"Movey boys," replied the picture. "By that I mean boys that don't stand +still when they ought to. Why, I knew of a boy once who wouldn't stand +still and he shook a whole town to pieces." + +"Ho!" jeered Jimmieboy. "I don't believe it." + +"Well, it's so, whether you believe it or not," said the picture. "The +boy's name was Bob, and he lived somewhere, I don't remember where. His +mother told him to stand still and he wouldn't; he just jumped up and +down, and up and down all the time." + +"That may be, but I don't see how he could shake a whole town to +pieces," said Jimmieboy, "unless he was a very heavy boy." + +"He didn't weigh a bit more than you do," answered the picture. "He was +heavy enough when he jumped to shake his nursery though, and the nursery +was heavy enough to shake the house, and the house was heavy enough to +shake the lot, and the lot was heavy enough to shake the street, and the +street shook the whole town, and when the town shook, everybody thought +there was an earthquake, and they all moved away, and took the name of +the town with them, which is why I don't know where it was." + +Jimmieboy was silent. He never knew before that not standing still could +result in such an awful happening. + +"I know another boy, too, who lived in--well, I won't say where, but he +lived there. He broke a fine big mirror in his father's parlor by not +standing still when he was told to." + +"Did he shake it down?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"No, indeed, he didn't," returned the picture. "He just stood in front +of it and got so movey that the mirror couldn't keep up with him, but it +tried to do it so hard that it shook itself to pieces. But that wasn't +anything like as bad as what happened to Jumping Sam. He was the worst I +ever knew. He never would keep still, and it all happened and he never +could unhappen it, so that it's still so to this very day." + +"But you haven't told me what happened yet," said Jimmieboy, very much +interested in Jumping Sam. + +"Well, I will tell you," said the picture, gravely. "And this is it. The +story is a poem, Jimmieboy, and it's called: + +"THE HORRID FATE OF JUMPING SAM. + + "Small Sammy was as fine a lad + As ever you did see; + But one bad habit Sammy had, + A Jumper bold was he. + And, oh! his fate was very sad, + As it was told to me. + + "He never, never, would stand still + In school or on the street; + He'd squirm if he were well or ill, + If on his back or feet. + He'd wriggle on the window-sill, + He'd waggle in his seat. + + "And so it happened one fine day, + When all alone was he, + He got to jumping in a way + That was a sight to see. + He leaped two feet at first, they say, + And then he made it three. + + "Then four, and five, the long day through, + Until he could not stop. + Each jump he jumped much longer grew, + Until he gave a hop + Up in the air a mile or two, + A-twirling like a top. + + "He turned about and tried to jump + Back to his father's door, + But landed by the village pump, + Some twenty miles or more + Beyond it, and an awful bump + He'd got when it was o'er. + + "And still his jumps increased in size, + Until they got so great, + He landed on the railway ties + In some far distant state; + And then he knew 'twould have been wise, + His jumping to abate. + + "But as the years passed slowly by, + His jumping still went on, + Until he leaped from Italy, + As far as Washington. + And he confessed, with heavy eye, + It wasn't any fun. + + "And when, in 1883, + I met him up in Perth, + He wept and said 'good-by' to me, + And jumped around the earth. + And I was saddened much to see + That he knew naught of mirth. + + "Last year in far Allahabad, + Late in the month of June, + I met again this jumping lad-- + 'Twas in the afternoon-- + As he with visage pale and sad + Was jumping to the moon. + + "So all his days, leap after leap, + He takes from morn to night. + He cannot eat, he cannot sleep, + But flies just like a kite, + And all because he would not keep + From jumping when he might. + + "And I believe the moral's true-- + Though shown with little skill-- + That whatsoever you may do, + Be it of good or ill, + Once in a while it may pay you + To practice keeping still." + +A long silence followed the completion of the blurred picture's poem. +For some reason or other it had made Jimmieboy think, and while he was +thinking, wonderful to say, he was keeping very quiet, so that it was +quite evident that the fate of Jumping Sam had had some effect upon +him. Finally, however, the spell was broken, and he began to wiggle just +as he wiggled while his picture was being taken, and then he said: + +"I don't know whether to believe that story or not. I can't see your +face very plainly here. Come over into the light and tell me the poem +all over again, and I can tell by looking in your eye whether it is true +or not." + +The picture made no reply, and Jimmieboy, grasping it firmly in his +hand, went to the window and gazed steadily at it for a minute, but it +was useless. The picture not only refused to speak, but, as the rays of +the setting sun fell full upon it, faded slowly from sight. + +Nevertheless, true story or not, Jimmieboy has practiced standing still +very often since the affair happened, which is a good thing for little +boys to do, so that perhaps the brief life and long poem of the rejected +picture were not wasted after all. + + + + +XI. + +JIMMIEBOY AND THE BLANK-BOOK. + + +[Illustration: "OH! DEAR!"] + +Somebody had sighed deeply, and had said, "Oh dear!" + +What bothered Jimmieboy was to find out who that somebody was. It +couldn't have been mamma, because she had gone out that evening with +papa to take dinner at Uncle Periwinkle's, and for the same reason, +therefore, it could not have been papa that had sighed and said "Oh +dear!" so plainly. Neither was it Moggie, as Jimmieboy called his nurse, +companion, and friend, because Moggie, supposing him to be asleep, had +gone up stairs to her own room to read. It might have been little Russ +if it had only been a sigh that had come to Jimmieboy's ears, for little +Russ was quite old enough to sigh; but as for adding "Oh dear!" that was +quite out of the question, because all little Russ had ever been able +to say was "Bzoo," and, as you may have observed for yourself, people +who can only say "Bzoo" cannot say "Oh dear!" + +It was so mysterious altogether that Jimmieboy sat up straight on his +pillow, and began to wonder if it wouldn't be well for him to get +frightened and cry. The question was decided in favor of a shriek of +terror; but the shriek did not come, because just as Jimmieboy got his +mouth open to utter it the strange somebody sighed again, and said: + +"Aren't you sorry for me, Jimmieboy?" + +"Who are you?" asked Jimmieboy, peering through the darkness, trying to +see who it was that had addressed him. + +"I'm a poor unhappy Blank-book," came the answer. "A Blank-book with no +hope now of ever becoming great. Did you ever feel as if you wanted to +become great, Jimmieboy?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed," returned the boy. "I do yet. I'm going to be a +fireman when I grow up, and drive an engine, and hold a hose, and put +out great configurations, as papa calls 'em." + +"Then you know," returned the Blank-book, "or rather you can imagine, my +awful sorrow when I say that I have aspired to equally lofty honors, +but find myself now condemned to do things I don't like, to devote my +life not to great and noble deeds, but to miserable every-day affairs. +You can easily see how I must feel if you will only try to imagine your +own feelings if, after a life whose every thought and effort had been +directed toward making you the proud driver of a fire-engine, you should +find it necessary to settle down to the humdrum life of a lawyer, all +your hopes destroyed, and the goal toward which you had ever striven +placed far beyond your reach." + +"You didn't want to be a fireman, did you?" asked Jimmieboy, softly. + +"No," said the Blank-book, jumping off the table, and crossing over to +Jimmieboy's crib, into which he climbed, much to the little fellow's +delight. "No, I never wanted to be a fireman, or a policeman, or a car +conductor, because I have always known that those were things I never +could become. No matter how wise and great a Blank-book may be, there is +a limit to his wisdom and his greatness. It sometimes makes us unhappy +to realize this, but after all there is plenty in the world that a +Blank-book can do, and do nobly, without envying others who have to do +far nobler and greater things before they can be considered famous. +Everything we have to do in this world is worth doing well, and +everybody should be content to do the things that are given to his kind +to accomplish. The poker should always try to poke as well as he can, +and not envy the garden hose because the garden hose can sprinkle +flowers, while he can't. The rake should be content to do the best +possible rake's work, and not sigh because he cannot sing 'Annie Rooney' +the way the hand-organ does." + +"Then why do you sigh because of the work they have given you to do?" + +"That's very simple," returned the Blank-book. "I can explain that in a +minute. While I have no right to envy a glue-pot because it can hold +glue and I can't, I have a right to feel hurt and envious when it falls +to the lot of another Blank-book, no better than myself, to become the +medium through which beautiful poems and lovely thoughts are given to +the world, while I am compelled to do work of the meanest kind. + +"It has always been my dream to become the companion of a poet, of a +philosopher, or of a humorist--to be the Blank-book of his heart--to lie +quiet in his pocket until he had thought a thought, and then to be +pulled out of that pocket and to be made the receptacle of that thought. + +"Oh, I have dreamed ambitious dreams, Jimmieboy--ambitious dreams that +must now remain only dreams, and never be real. Once, as I lay with a +thousand others just like me on the shelf of the little stationery shop +where your mother bought me, I dreamed I was sold to a poet--a true +poet. Everywhere he went, went I, and every beautiful line he thought of +was promptly put down upon one of my leaves with a dainty gold pencil, +contact with which was enough to thrill me through and through. + +"Here is one of the things I dreamed he wrote upon my leaves: + + "'What's the use of tears? + What's the use of moping? + What's the use of fears? + Here's to hoping! + + "'Life hath more of joy + Than she hath of weeping. + When grief comes, my boy, + Pleasure's sleeping. + + "'Only sleeping, child; + Thou art not forsaken, + Let thy smiles run wild-- + She'll awaken!' + +"Don't you think that's nice?" queried the Blank-book when he had +finished reciting the poem. + +"Very nice," said Jimmieboy. "And it's very true, too. Tears aren't any +good. Why, they don't even wash your face." + +"I know," returned the Blank-book. "Tears are just like rain clouds. A +sunny smile can drive 'em away like autumn leaves before a whirl-wind." + +"Or a clothes-line full of clothes before an east wind," suggested +Jimmieboy. + +"Yes; or like buckwheat cakes before a hungry school-boy," put in the +Blank-book. "Then that same poet in my dream wrote a verse about his +little boy I rather liked. It went this way: + + "'Of rats and snails and puppy-dogs' tails + Some man has said boys are made; + But he who spoke to be truthful fails, + If 'twas of my boy 'twas said. + + "'For honey, and wine, and sweet sunshine, + And fruits from over the swim, + And everything else that's fair and fine, + Are sure to be found in him. + + "'His kisses are nice and sweet as spice, + His smile is richer than cake-- + Which, if it were known to rats and mice, + The cheeses they would forsake. + + "'His dear little voice is soft and choice, + He giggles all day with glee, + And it makes my heart and soul rejoice, + To think he belongs to me.'" + +"That's first rate," said Jimmieboy. "Only Mother Goose has something +very much like it about little girls." + +"That was just it," returned the Blank-book. "She had been a little girl +herself, and she was too proud to live. If she had been a boy instead of +a girl, it would have been the boy who was made of sugar and spice and +all that's nice." + +"Didn't your dream-poet ever write anything funny in you?" asked +Jimmieboy. "I do love funny poems." + +"Well, I don't know whether some of the things he wrote were funny or +not," returned the Blank-book, scratching his cover with a pencil he +carried in a little loop at his side. "But they were queer. There was +one about a small boy, named Napples, who spent all his time eating +apples, till by some odd mistake he contracted an ache, and now with J. +Ginger he grapples." + +"That's the kind," said Jimmieboy. "I think to some people who never ate +a green apple, or tasted Jamaica ginger, or contracted an ache, it +would be real funny. I don't laugh at it, because I know how solemn +Tommy Napples must have felt. Did you ever have any more like that?" + +"Oh my, yes," returned the Blank-book. "Barrels full. This was another +one--only I don't believe what it says is true: + + "A man living near Navesink, + Eats nothing but thistles and zinc, + With mustard and glue, + And pollywog stew, + Washed down with the best of blue ink.'" + +"That's pretty funny," said Jimmieboy. + +"Is it?" queried the Blank-book, with a sigh. "I'll have to take your +word for it. I can't laugh, because I have nothing to say ha! ha! with, +and even if I could say ha! ha! I don't suppose I'd know when to laugh, +because I don't know a joke when I see one." + +"Really?" asked Jimmieboy, who had never supposed any one could be born +so blind that he could not at least see a joke. + +[Illustration: "EVERYBODY LAUGHED BUT ME."] + +"Really," sighed the Blank-book. "Why, a man came into the store where I +was for sale once, and said he wanted a Blank-book, and the clerk asked +him what for--meaning, of course, did he want an account-book, a diary, +or a copy-book. The man answered, 'To wash windows with, of course,' +and everybody laughed but me. I simply couldn't see the point. Can you?" + +"Why, certainly," said Jimmieboy, a broad smile coming over his lips. +"It was very funny. The point was that people don't wash windows with +Blank-books." + +"What's funny about that?" asked the Blank-book. "It would be a great +deal funnier if people did wash windows with a Blank-book. He might have +said 'to go coasting on,' or 'to sweeten my coffee with,' or 'to send +out to the heathen,' and it would have been just as funny." + +"I guess that's true," said Jimmieboy. "But it was funny just the same." + +"No doubt," returned the Blank-book; "but it seems to me what's funny +depends on the other fellow. You might get off a splendid joke, and if +he hadn't his joke spectacles on he'd think it was nonsense." + +"Oh no," said Jimmieboy. "If he hadn't his joke spectacles on he +wouldn't think it was nonsense. Jokes are nonsense." + +"But you said a moment ago the fun of the Blank-book joke was that you +couldn't wash windows with one. That's a fact, so how could it be +nonsense?" + +"I never thought of it in that way," said Jimmieboy. + +"Ah!" ejaculated the Blank-book. "Now that is really funny, because I +don't see how you could think of it in any other way." + +"I don't see anything funny about that," began Jimmieboy. + +"Oh dear!" sighed the Blank-book. "We never shall agree, except that I +am willing to believe that you know more about nonsense than I do. +Perhaps you can explain this poem to me. I dreamt my poet wrote this on +my twelfth page. It was called 'A Plane Tale:' + + "'I used to be so surly, that + All men avoided me; + But now I am a diplomat, + Of wondrous suavity. + + "'I met a carpenter one night, + Who wore a dotted vest; + And when I asked if that was right, + He told me to go West. + + "'I seized his saw and brandished it, + As fiercely as I could, + And told him, with much show of wit, + I thought he was no good. + + "'At that he looked me in the face, + And said my tone was gruff; + My manner lacked a needed grace, + In every way was rough. + + "'He seized and laid me on a plank, + He gave a little cough; + And then, although my spirits sank, + _He planed me wholly off_! + + "'And ever since that painful night, + When he so treated me, + I've been as polished, smooth a wight, + As any one can be.'" + +"There isn't much sense in that," said Jimmieboy. + +"Well, now, I think there is," said the Blank-book. "There's a moral to +that. Two of 'em. One's mind your own business. If the carpenter wanted +to wear a dotted vest it was nobody's affair. The other moral is, a +little plane speaking goes a great way." + +"Oh, what a joke!" cried Jimmieboy. + +"I didn't make any joke," retorted the Blank-book, his Russia-leather +cover getting red as a beet. + +"Yes, you did, too," returned Jimmieboy. "Plane and plain--don't you +see? P-l-a-n-e and p-l-a-i-n." + +[Illustration: "IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL A JOKE?"] + +"Bah!" said the Blank-book. "Nonsense! That can't be a joke. That's a +coincidence. Is that what you call a joke?" + +"Certainly," replied Jimmieboy. + +"Well, then, I'm not as badly off as I thought. I wanted to be a poet's +book and couldn't, but it is better to be used for a wash-list as I am +than to help funny men to remember stuff like that. I am very grateful +to you, Jimmieboy, for the information. You have made me see that I +might have fared worse than I have fared, and I thank you, and as I hear +your mamma and papa coming up the stairs now, I'll run back to the desk. +Good-night!" + +And the Blank-book kissed Jimmieboy, and scampered over to the desk as +fast as it could, and the next day Jimmieboy begged so hard for it that +his mamma gave it to him for his very own. + +"What shall you do with it now that you have it?" asked mamma. + +"I'm going to save it till I grow up," returned Jimmieboy. "Maybe I'll +be a poet, and I can use it to write poems in." + + + + +XII. + +JIMMIEBOY AND THE COMET. + + +Jimmieboy was thinking very hard. He was also blinking quite as hard +because he was undeniably sleepy. His father had been reading something +to his mamma about a curious thing that lived up in the sky called a +comet. Jimmieboy had never seen a comet, nor indeed before that had he +even heard of one, so of course his ideas as to what it looked like were +rather confused. His father's description of it was clear enough, +perhaps, but nevertheless Jimmieboy found it difficult to conjure up in +his mind any reasonable creature that could in any way resemble a comet. +Finally, however, he made up his mind that it must look like a queer +kind of a dog with nothing but a head and a tail--or perhaps it was a +sort of fiery pollywog. + +At any rate, while he thought and blinked, what should he see peeping +in at him through the window but the comet itself. Jimmieboy knew it was +the comet because the comet told him so afterward, and besides it wore a +placard suspended about its neck which had printed on it in great gold +letters: "I'm the Comet. Come out and take a ride through the sky with +me." + +"Me?" cried Jimmieboy, starting up as soon as he had read the +invitation. + +Immediately the word "Yes" appeared on the placard and Jimmieboy walked +over to the window and stepping right through the glass as though it +were just so much air, found himself seated upon the Comet's back, and +mounting to the sky so fast that his hair stood out behind him like so +many pieces of stiff wire. + +"Are you comfortable?" asked the Comet, after a few minutes. + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy, "only you kind of dazzle my eyes. You are so +bright." + +The Comet appeared to be very much pleased at this remark, for he smiled +so broadly that Jimmieboy could see the two ends of his mouth appear on +either side of the back of his neck. + +"You're right about that," said the Comet. "I'm the brightest thing +there ever was. I'm all the time getting off jokes and things." + +"Are you really?" cried Jimmieboy, delighted. "I am so glad, for I love +jokes and--and things. Get off a joke now, will you?" + +"Certainly," replied the obliging Comet. "You don't know why the moon is +called she, do you?" + +"No," said Jimmieboy. "Why is it?" + +"Because it isn't a sun, so it must be a daughter," said the Comet. +"Isn't that funny?" + +"I guess so," said Jimmieboy, trying to look as if he thought the joke a +good one. "But don't you know anything funnier than that?" + +"Yes," returned the Comet. "What do you think of this: What is the only +thing you can crack without splitting it?" + +"That sounds interesting," said Jimmieboy, "but I'm sure I never could +guess." + +"Why, it's a joke, of course," said the Comet. "You can crack a joke +eight times a day and it's as whole as it ever was when night comes." + +"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "That's funnier than the other, too. I see +now why they call you a Comic." + +"I'm not a Comic," said the Comet, with a laugh at Jimmieboy's mistake. +"I'm a Comet. I end with a T like the days when you have dinner in the +afternoon. They end with a tea, don't they?" + +"That's the best, yet," roared Jimmieboy. "If you give me another like +that I may laugh harder and fall off, so I guess you'd better hadn't." + +"How would you like to hear some of my poetry?" asked the Comet. "I'm a +great writer of poetry, I can tell you. I won a prize once for writing +more poetry in an hour than any other Comet in school." + +"I'm very fond of it," said Jimmieboy. "Specially when it don't make +sense." + +"That's the kind I like, too," agreed the Comet. "I never can understand +the other kind. I've got a queer sort of a head. I can't understand +sense, but nonsense is as clear to me as--well as turtle soup. Ever see +any turtle soup?" + +"No," said Jimmieboy, "but I've seen turtles." + +"Well, turtle soup is a million times clearer than turtles, so maybe you +can get some idea of what I mean." + +"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "I think I do. Nonsense poetry is like a window +to you. You can see through it in a minute." + +"Exactly," said the Comet. "Only nonsense poetry hasn't any glass in it, +so it isn't exactly like a window to me after all." + +"Well, anyhow," put in Jimmieboy. "Let's have some of the poetry." + +"Very good," said the Comet. "Here goes. It's about an animal named the +Speeler, and it's called 'The Speeler's Lament.' + + "Oh, many years ago, + When Jack and Jill were young, + There wandered to and fro, + Along the glistening snow, + A Speeler, much unstrung. + + "I asked the Speeler why + He looked so mortal sad? + He gazed into my eye, + And then he made reply, + In language very bad, + + "'I'm sad,' said he, 'because + A Speeler true I be; + And yet, despite my jaws, + My wings, and beak, and claws, + Despite my manners free, + + "'Despite my feathers fine, + My voice so soft and sweet, + My truly fair outline, + My very handsome spine, + And massive pair of feet, + + "'In all this world of space-- + On foot, on fin, on wing-- + From Nature's top to base, + There never was a trace + Of any such strange thing. + + "'And it does seem to me-- + Indeed it truly does-- + 'Tis dreadful, sir, to be, + As you can plainly see, + A thing that never was!'" + +"What's a Speeler?" said Jimmieboy. + +"It isn't anything. There isn't any such thing as a Speeler and that's +what made this particular Speeler feel so badly," said the Comet. "I +know I'd feel that way myself. It must be dreadful to be something that +isn't. I was sorry after I had written that poem and created the poor +Speeler because it doesn't seem right to create a thing just for the +sake of making it unhappy to please people who like poetry of that +kind." + +"I'm afraid it was a sensible poem," said Jimmieboy. "Because, really, +Mr. Comet, I can't understand it." + +"Well, let me try you on another then, and take away the taste of that +one. How do you like this. It's called 'Wobble Doo, the Squaller.' + + "The Wobble Doo was fond of pie, + He also loved peach jam. + But what most pleased his eagle eye, + Was pickled cakes and ham. + + "But when, perchance, he got no cake, + Jam, ham, or pie at all, + He'd sit upon a garden rake, + And squall, and squall, and squall. + + "And as these _never_ came his way, + This hero of my rhyme, + I really do regret to say, + Was squalling all the time." + +"Your poems are all sad, aren't they?" said Jimmieboy. "Couldn't you +have let Wobble Doo have just a little bit of cake and jam?" + +"No. It was impossible," replied the Comet, sadly, "I couldn't afford +it. I did all I could for him in writing the poem. Seems to me that was +enough. It brought him glory, and glory is harder to get than cakes and +peach jam ever thought of being. Perhaps you'll like this better: + + "Abadee sollaker hollaker moo, + Carraway, sarraway mollaker doo-- + Hobledy, gobbledy, sassafras Sam, + Taramy, faramy, aramy jam." + +"I don't understand it at all," said Jimmieboy. "What language is it +in?" + +"One I made up myself," said the Comet, gleefully. "And it's simply +fine. I call it the Cometoo language. Nobody knows anything about it +except myself, and I haven't mastered it yet--but my! It's the easiest +language in the world to write poetry in. All you have to do is to go +right ahead and make up words to suit yourself, and finding rhyme is no +trouble at all when you do that." + +"But what's the good of it?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, it has plenty of advantages," said the Comet, shaking his head +wisely. "In the first place if you have a language all your own, that +nobody else knows, nobody else can write a poem in it. You have the +whole field to yourself. Just think how great a man would be if he was +the only one to understand English and write poetry in it. He'd get all +the money that ever was paid for English poetry, which would be a +fortune. It would come to at least $800, which is a good deal of money, +considering." + +"Considering what?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Considering what it would bring if wisely invested," said the Comet. +"Did you ever think of what $800 was worth in peanuts, for instance." + +Jimmieboy laughed at the idea of spending $800 in peanuts, and then he +said: "No, I never thought anything about it. What is it worth in +peanuts?" + +"Well," said the Comet, scratching his head with his tail, "it's a very +hard bit of arithmetic, but, I'll try to write it out for you. Peanuts, +you know, cost ten cents a quart." + +"Do they?" said Jimmieboy. "I never bought a whole quart at once. I've +only paid five cents a pint." + +"Well, five cents a pint is English for ten cents a quart," said the +Comet, "and in $800 there are eight thousand ten centses, so that you +could get eight thousand quarts of peanuts for $800. Now every quart of +peanuts holds about fifty peanut shellfuls, so that eight thousand +quarts of peanuts equal four hundred thousand peanuts shellfuls. Each +peanut shell holds two small nuts so that in four hundred thousand of +them there are eight hundred thousand nuts." + +"Phe-e-ew!" whistled Jimmieboy. "What a feast." + +"Yes," said the Comet, "but just you wait. Suppose you ate one of these +nuts a minute, do you know how long it would take you, eating eight +hours a day, to eat up the whole lot?" + +"No," said Jimmieboy, beginning to feel a little awed at the wondrous +possibilities of $800 in peanuts. + +"Four years, six months, three weeks and six days, and you'd have to eat +Sundays to get through it in that time," said the Comet. "In soda water +it would be quite as awful and in peppermint sticks at two cents a foot +it would bring you a stick forty thousand feet, or more than seven +miles long." + +"Isn't $800 wonderful," said Jimmieboy, overcome by the mere thought of +so much peppermint candy. + +"Yes--but really I am much more wonderful when you think of me. You +haven't been on my back more than ten minutes and yet in that time I +have taken you all around the world," said the Comet. + +"All the way!" said Jimmieboy. + +"Yes," said the Comet, stopping suddenly. "Here we are back at your +window again." + +"But I didn't see China, and I wanted to," said the boy. + +"Can't help it," said the Comet. "You had your chance, but you preferred +to talk about poetry and peanuts. It isn't my fault. Off with you, now." + +And then the Comet bucked like a wild Western Broncho, and as Jimmieboy +went over his head through the window and landed plump in his papa's +lap, the queer creature with the fiery tail flew off into space. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +JIMMIEBOY AND JACK FROST--IN WHICH JACK GIVES OFFENCE. + + +Jimmieboy is the proud possessor of a small brother, who, to use one of +Jimmieboy's own expressions, is getting to be a good deal of a man. That +is to say, he is old enough to go out driving all by himself, being +eleven months of age, and quite capable of managing the fiery untamed +nurse that pushes his carriage along the street. Of course, if the nurse +had not been warranted kind and gentle when the baby's mamma went to +find her in the beginning, little Russ would have had to have somebody +go along with him when he went driving--somebody like Jimmieboy, for +instance, to frighten off big dogs and policemen, and to see that the +nurse didn't shy or run away--but as it was, the baby had developed +force of character and self-reliance enough to go out unattended, and, +except on one occasion, he got back again safe and sound. + +This one occasion was early in December, when Nature, having observed +that the great big boys had got through playing football and were +beginning to think of snow-balls, sent word to the Arctic Cold Weather +Company that she desired to have delivered at once five days of low +temperature for general distribution among her friends, which days were +sent through by special messenger, arriving late on the night of +December 1st, giving great satisfaction to everybody, particularly to +those who deal in ice, ear-tabs, and skates. At first Jimmieboy's mamma +thought that Nature was perhaps a little too generous with her frosty +weather, and for two days she kept her two sons, Jimmieboy and Russ, +cooped up in the house, laying in a supply of furnace and log-fire heat +sufficiently large to keep them warm until the third day, when she +thought that they might safely go out. + +[Illustration: JIMMIEBOY PREPARED FOR COLD WEATHER.] + +Upon the third day Jimmieboy's papa said that he imagined the boys were +warm enough to venture out-of-doors, so they were bundled up in +leggings, fur-lined coats, flannel bands, scarfs, silk handkerchiefs, +lamb's-wool rugs, and "arctics," the door was opened, and out they +went. Jimmieboy staid out seven minutes, and then came in again to see +if he could find out why his nose had suddenly changed its color, first +from pink to red, and then from red to blue. He also wished to come in, +he said, because the solid iron driver of his red express wagon had been +"freezed stiff," and he was afraid if he staid out much longer he'd +never thaw out again. Little Russ, on the contrary, lying luxuriously in +his carriage, with no part of him visible save the tip end of his chin, +which was so fat that the coverings would slip off, no matter how hard +mamma and the nurse tried to make them stay on, remained out-of-doors +for two hours, apparently very comfortable. His great blue eyes shone +mirthfully when he came in, and until six o'clock that evening all went +well with him, and then he began to whimper. + +"What's the matter with my baby?" asked Jimmieboy. + +[Illustration: LITTLE RUSS.] + +Little Russ made no reply other than a grimace, which made Jimmieboy +laugh, at which the baby opened his mouth as wide as he could and +shrieked with wrath. + +"I'm inclined to think," said the nurse, as she sought vainly to find +where a possible pin might be creating a disturbance to the baby's +discomfiture--"I'm inclined to think that perhaps he's got a pain +somewhere." + +And then the youthful Russ blinked his eyes, gave another shriek, and +attempted to pout. Now it is a singular way little Russ has of pouting. +He gets it from his mamma, who used to pout in just the same way when +she was a little girl--so grandma says--and it consists entirely of +sticking his chin out as far as he can, while concealing his lower lip +as much as possible beneath the cherry-colored Cupid's bow that acts as +his upper lip. A proceeding of this sort always results in making that +chin the most conspicuous thing in the room, so that it is not +surprising that when little Russ pouted every one in the room should at +once notice that there was a great red spot upon it. + +"Why, the poor little soul has been frost-bitten!" cried mamma, running +for the cold cream--queer thing that, by-the-way, Jimmieboy thought. He +would have put warm cream on a cold sore like that. + +"So he is!" ejaculated papa, with an indignant glance at the chin, which +only caused that fat little feature to pout the more. "Hadn't I better +send for the doctor?" + +"Does dogs frost-bite?" queried Jimmieboy, looking around the room for a +stick with which to beat the dog that had done the biting, if perchance +it was a dog that was responsible. + +"No, indeed," said papa. "It wasn't a dog; it was Jack Frost, and +nobody else. He ought to be muzzled." + +"Who is Jack Frost, papa?" Jimmieboy asked, so much interested in Jack +that he for a moment forgot his suffering small brother. + +"Jack? Why, Jack is a man named Frost, who deals in cold, and he goes +around in winter biting people. He's a sort of ice-man, only he's +retired from trade, and gives things away, to people who don't want 'em. +It would be better if he'd go into business, and sell his favors to +people who do want 'em." + +"Well, he's a naughty man," said Jimmieboy. + +"Yes, indeed, he is," said papa. "Why, he's the man who withered all +your mamma's plants, and painted our nice green lawn white; and then, +when we wanted to dig holes for the fence posts, he came along and made +the ground so hard it took all the edge off the spade, and made the +hired man so tired that he overslept himself that night and let the +furnace go out." + +"Can't somebody catch him, and put him into prism?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"Oh, he's been in prism lots of times," said papa, with a laugh at +Jimmieboy's droll word; "but he manages to get out again." + +"Where does he live, papa?" asked the boy. + +"All around in winter. In summer he goes north for his health." + +"And can't anybody ever get rid of him?" + +"No. The only way to do that successfully would be to burn him out, and +so far nobody has ever been able to do it entirely. You can put him out +of your own house; but, if he wants to, he'll stay around the place and +nip your plants, and freeze up your wells, and put a web of ice on your +grass and sidewalks in spite of anything you can do." + +By this time little Russ had quieted down and gone to sleep. The cold +cream, aided by a huge bottleful of the food he liked best, which warmed +up his little heart and various other parts of his being, to which the +world had for a little while seemed bleak and drear, had put him in a +contented frame of mind, and if the smile on his lips meant anything he +had forgotten his woes in dreams of sweet and lovely things. + +It was not so, however, with Jimmieboy, who grew more and more indignant +as he thought of that great lumbering ice-man, Jack Frost, coming along +and biting his dear little brother in that cruel fashion. It was simply +cowardly, he thought. Of course Jimmieboy could understand how any one +might wish to take a bite of something that was as sweet as little Russ +was, and when mosquitoes did it he was not disposed to quarrel with +them, because it was courageous in a minute insect like a mosquito to +risk his life for his sweetmeats, but with Jack Frost it was different. +Why didn't he take a man of his size like papa, for instance, or the +grocer man? He was afraid to--that was it--and so he fastened upon a +poor, helpless little man like Russ, only eleven months old. + +"He ought to be hitted on the head," said Jimmieboy. + +"That wouldn't do any good," said papa. "It wouldn't hurt him a bit. You +couldn't kill him with a hundred ice-picks, and I don't believe even a +steam-drill would lay him up more than a week. What he's afraid of is +heat--only heat, and nothing else. That cracks him all up and melts him, +so that he can't bite anything." + +Then Jimmieboy had his supper and began playing with his toys until +bedtime should come, but all the time his mind was on that cruel Jack +Frost. Something else in the room was thinking about it, too, only +Jimmieboy didn't know it. The little gas-stove that stood guard over by +the fire-place was quite as angry about Jack's behavior as anybody, but +he kept very still until along about eight o'clock when he began to +sputter. + +Jimmieboy stopped pushing his iron engine over the floor, and looked +with heavy eyes at the gas-stove. This was extraordinary behavior for +the stove, and Jimmieboy wondered what was the matter. + +"Say!" whispered the stove, as Jimmieboy looked at him. "Let's get after +that Frost fellow and make him wish he never was born." + +Jimmieboy said nothing to this. He was too much surprised to say +anything--the idea of a gas-stove speaking to him was so absurd. He only +gazed steadfastly at the extraordinary thing in the fire-place, and then +let his head droop down on his arms as he lay on the floor, and in a +moment would have been asleep had not the stove again sputtered. + +"Hi! Jimmieboy!" it cried. "Don't go to sleep. I know where Jack Frost +lives, and we'll get after him and punish him for what he did to little +Russ." + +"How?" asked Jimmieboy, crawling across the room on his hands and knees, +and looking earnestly at this strange gas-stove. + +"Never mind how," returned the Stove. "I'll tell you that later. The +point is, will you go? If you will say the word I'll make all the +arrangements, and we'll set off after everybody has gone to bed. It is a +beautiful moonlight night. Everything is just right for a successful +trip. There's enough snow on the ground for the sleigh to move, and the +river's all frozen over except in the middle. We can skate as far as the +ice goes, and then, if there is no boat, we can put on your papa's +arctics, and walk across the water to the other side. From there it's +only a forty-minute skate to Jack's home. He'll come in about twelve +o'clock, and we'll have him just where we want him. What do you say?" + +"I'll be in bed by the time you want to start," said Jimmieboy. "I'd +like to do it very much, but I don't know how to dress myself, and----" + +"Never mind that," returned the Gas Stove. "Go as you are." + +"In my night-gown? On a cold night like this?" queried the little +fellow, more than ever astonished at the Gas Stove's peculiarities. + +"Why, certainly. I'll see that you are kept warm," returned the stove. +"I've got warmth enough for twenty-six as it is, and if there's only two +of us--why, you see how it'll be. It'll be too warm for two of us." + +"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "I never thought of it that way. I might +sit on your lap if I couldn't keep warm any other way, eh?" + +"I've got a better way than that," said the Stove, dancing a little jig +on the tiles. "I'll get you a pair of gas gloves, some gas ear-tabs, a +patent nose furnace, an overcoat lined with gas-jets that can be lit so +as to keep you warm without burning you, and leggings, shoes, hats, and +everything you need to make you feel as happy and warm as a poached egg +on toast." + +"That'll be splendid," said Jimmieboy. "I'll go, and we'll fix Jack so +that he won't bite any of our people any more, eh?" + +"Yes," said the Gas Stove, delighted at the prospect. + +"Shall we muzzle him?" asked Jimmieboy. But the Gas Stove only winked, +for just then mamma came up stairs from dinner, and as it was +Jimmieboy's nurse's night out, his mamma undressed the little fellow, +and put him in his crib, where he shortly dropped off to sleep. + +[Illustration: THE GAS-STOVE TAPPED HIM LIGHTLY ON THE SHOULDER.] + +In a little while everybody in the house had gone to bed, and when the +last light had been extinguished the door of the room in which Jimmieboy +slept was slowly opened, and the Gas Stove, all his lights turned down +so that nobody could see him in the darkness, tip-toed in, and climbing +upon the side of Jimmieboy's crib tapped him lightly on the shoulder. + +"All ready?" he said, in a low whisper. + +"Yes," answered Jimmieboy, softly, as he arose and got down on the +floor. "How do we go? Down the stairs?" + +"No," replied the Gas Stove. "We'll take the toy balloon up the +chimney." + +Which they at once proceeded to do. + + + + +XIV. + +IN WHICH JIMMIEBOY AND THE GAS STOVE MAKE A START. + + +"Now jump into the sleigh just as quickly as you can, Jimmieboy," said +the Stove, as they issued forth into the cold night air. "Put on that +fur cap and the overcoat, shoes, and gloves, and I'll light 'em up." + +"They won't burn, for sure?" queried Jimmieboy, nervously, for the idea +of wearing clothes heated by gas was a little bit terrifying. + +"Not a bit," said the Stove in reply. "I wouldn't give 'em to you if +they would. Thanks," he added, turning and throwing a ten-cent piece to +a gas boy, who handed him the reins by which the horses were controlled. +"We'll be back about sunrise." + +"Very well," said the boy. "Do you want me turned on all night, sir?" + +"No," answered the Stove. "Gas is expensive these days. You can turn +yourself out right away. Have you fed the horses?" + +"Yes, sir," said the boy. "They've each had four thousand feet by the +meter for supper." + +"Fuel or illuminating?" queried the Stove. + +"Illuminating," replied the boy. + +"Good," said the Stove. "That ought to make them bright. Good-by. Get +up!" + +With this the horses made a spring forward--fiery steeds in very truth, +their outlines in jets, each burning a small flame, standing out like +lines of stars in the sky. + +[Illustration: "THIS IS PRETTY FINE, EH?" SAID THE GAS-STOVE.] + +"This is pretty fine, eh?" said the Gas Stove, with a smile, which, had +any one looked, must have been visible for miles, so light and cheerful +was it. + +"Lovely!" cried Jimmieboy, almost gasping in ecstasy. "I'm just as warm +and comfortable as can be. I didn't know you had a team like this." + +"Ah, my boy," returned the Stove, "there's lots you don't know. For +instance: + + "You don't know why a fire will burn + On hot days merrily; + And when the cold days come, will turn + As cold as I-C-E! + + "You don't know why the puppies bark, + Or why snap-turtles snap; + Or why a horse runs round the park, + Because you say, 'git-ap.' + + "You don't know why a peach has fuzz + Upon its pinky cheek; + Or what the poor Dumb-Crambo does + When he desires to speak. + +"Do you?" + +"No, I don't," said Jimmieboy. "But I should like to very much." + +"So should I," said the Stove. "We're very much alike in a great many +respects, and particularly in those in which we resemble each other." + +The truth of this was so evident that Jimmieboy could think of nothing +to say in answer to it, so he merely observed: "I'm awful hungry." + +This was a favorite remark of his, particularly between meals. + +"So am I," said the Stove. "Let's see what we've got here. Just hold the +reins while I dive down into the lunch basket." + +Jimmieboy took the reins with some fear at first, but when he saw that +they were high up in the air where there was really nothing but a star +or two to run into, and realized that even they were millions of miles +away, he soon got used to it, and was sorry when the Stove resumed +control. + +"There, Jimmieboy," said the Stove, as he drew his hand out of the +basket. "There's a nice hot ginger-snap for you. I think I'll take a +snack of this fuel gas myself." + +"You don't eat gas, do you?" asked the small passenger. + +"I guess I do," ejaculated the Stove, with a smack of his lips. "As our +Gas Poet Laureate said: + + "Oh, kerosene + Is good, I ween, + And so is apple sass; + But bring for me, + Oh, chickadee, + A bowl of fuel gas! + + "Some persons like + The red beefstike, + The cow just dotes on grass-- + But to my mind + No one can find + More toothsome things than gas. + + "And so I say, + Bring me no hay; + No roasted deep-sea bass. + Bring me no pease, + Or fricassees, + If, haply, you have gas." + +"It's easy to eat, too," added the Stove. "In fact, I heard your papa say +we consumed too much of it one day when he'd got his bill from the gas +butcher." + +"Do you chew it?" asked Jimmieboy. + +"No, indeed. We take it in through a pipe. It isn't like soup or meat, +though I sometimes think if people could take soup out of a pipe instead +of from a spoon they'd look handsomer while they were eating. But the +great thing about it is it's always ready, and if it comes cold, all you +have to do is to touch a match to it, and it gets as hot as you could +want." + +"I should think you'd get tired of it," said Jimmieboy. + +"Not at all. There's a great variety in gases. There's fuel gas, +illuminating gas, laughing gas, attagas----" + +"What's that last?" queried Jimmieboy. + +"Attagas? Why, when we want a game dinner, we have attagas. If you will +look it up in the dictionary you will find that it's a sort of +partridge. It's mighty good, too, with a sauce of stewed gasberries, and +a mug or two of gasparillo to wash it down." + +Here Jimmieboy smacked his lips. Gasparillo truly sounded as if it might +be very delightful, though I don't myself believe it is any less bitter +to the taste than some other barks of trees, such as quinine, for +instance. + +"Howdy do?" said the Stove, with a familiar nod to the east of them. + +"Howdy do!" replied Jimmieboy. + +"I wasn't speaking to you," said the Stove, with a laugh. "I was only +nodding to an old friend of mine; he's got a fine place up in the sky +there. His name is Sirius. They call him the dog-star, and all he has to +do is twinkle. You can't see him all the time from your house, but when +you get up as high as this he stands right out and twinkles at you. +Pretty good fellow, Sirius is. I might have had his place, but somehow +or other I prefer to work in-doors and rest nights. Sirius is out all +the time, and has to keep awake all night. But we've got to get down to +the earth again. Here's where we take to the skates." + +Jimmieboy looked over the edge of the sleigh as the horses turned in +response to a movement of the reins, and started down to earth. He saw a +great white river below him, flowing silently along a narrow winding +channel, everything on the border of which seemed bathed in silver +except the middle of the river itself, a strip of forty or fifty feet in +width, which was not frozen over. + +"That's Frostland," whispered the Gas Stove. "We can't get over to the +other side with this team because they are very skittish, and if the +sleigh were overturned and our ammunition lost we should be lost +ourselves. We've got to land directly below where we are now, skate to +the edge of the ice on this bank, row over to the other, and then skate +again directly to the palace. We mustn't let anybody know who we really +are, either, or we may have trouble, and we want to avoid that; for you +know, Jimmieboy, + + "The man who gets along without + A care or bit of strife, + Is certain sure, beyond all doubt, + To lead a happy life." + +"But I can't skate," said Jimmieboy. + +"You can slide, can't you?" asked the Stove. + +"Yes, both ways. Standing up and sitting down." + +"Well, my patent steam skates, operated by gas, will attend to all the +rest if you will only stand up straight," returned the Stove, and the +sleigh dropped lightly down to the earth, and the two crusaders against +Jack Frost alighted. + +"Isn't it beautiful here?" said Jimmieboy, as he looked about him and +saw superb tall trees, their leaves white and glistening in the +moonlight, bound in an icy covering that kept them always as he saw them +then. "And look at the flowers," he added, joyously, as he caught sight +of a bed of rose-bushes, only the flowers were lustrous as silver and of +the same dazzling whiteness. + +"Yes," said the Gas Stove, sadly. "Every time Jack Frost withers a +flower or a plant he brings it here, and it remains forever as you see +them now; he has had the choice of the most beautiful things in the +world. But come, we must hurry. Put on these skates." + +Jimmieboy did as he was told, and then the Stove lit a row of small jets +of gas along the steel runners of the skates, and they grew warm to +Jimmieboy's feet, and in a moment little puffs of steam issued forth +from them, and Jimmieboy began to move, slowly at first, and then more +and more quickly, until he was racing at breakneck speed. + +"Hi, Stovey!" he cried, very much alarmed to find himself speeding off +through this strange country all alone. "Hurry up and catch me, or I'll +be out of sight." + +"Keep on," hallooed the Stove in return. "Don't bother about me. I've +got four feet to your two, and I can go twice as fast as you do. Keep on +straight ahead, and I'll be up with you in a minute--just as soon as I +can get the ammunition and my hose out." + +"I wonder what he's going to do with the hose?" Jimmieboy asked himself. +The Stove was too far behind him for the little skater to ask him. + +[Illustration: "HALT!" CRIED A VOICE IN FRONT.] + +"Halt!" cried a voice in front of Jimmieboy. + +"I can't," gasped the little fellow, very much frightened, for as he +gazed through the darkness to see who it was that addressed him, he +perceived a huge snow man standing directly in his path. + +"You must," cried the Snow Man, opening his mouth and breathing forth an +icy blast that nearly froze the water in Jimmieboy's eyes. "You shall!" +he added, opening his arms wide, so that before he knew it Jimmieboy was +precipitated into them. + +"See?" said the Snow Man. "I can compel y--" + +[Illustration: THE SNOW MAN.] + +The Snow Man never got any further with this remark, for in a moment +Jimmieboy passed straight through him. The heat of Jimmieboy's clothes +had melted a hole through the Snow Man, and as the small skater turned +to look at his adversary he saw him standing there, his head, his sides, +and legs still intact, but from his waist down all the middle part of +him had disappeared. + +"Dear me! How sad," Jimmieboy said. + +"Not at all," responded a voice beside him. "It serves him right; he's +the meanest Snow Man that ever lived. If you hadn't melted him he'd have +turned himself into an avalanche, and then you'd have been buried so +deep in snow and ice you'd never have got out." + +"Who are you?" queried Jimmieboy, with a startled glance in the +direction whence the voice seemed to come. + +"Only what you hear," replied the voice. "I am a voice. Jack Frost froze +the rest of me and carted it away, and left me here for the rest of my +life." + +"What were you?" + +"I cannot remember," said the voice. "I may have been anything you can +think of. You could stand there and call me all the names you chose, and +I couldn't deny that I was any of them. + + "Sometimes I think I may have been + A piece of apple pie; + Perhaps a great and haughty queen, + Perhaps a gaily dressed marine, + In former days was I. + + "I may have been a calendar, + To tell some man the date; + I may have been a railway car, + A rocket or a shooting star, + Or e'en a roller skate. + + "I may have been a jar of jam, + Perhaps a watch and chain; + I may have been a boy named Sam, + An oyster or a toothsome clam, + Perhaps a weather vane. + + "I may have been a pot of ink, + A sloop or schooner yacht; + I may have been the missing link, + But _what_ I was I cannot think-- + For I have quite forgot. + +"All I know is that I was something once; that Jack Frost came along and +caught me and added me to his collection of curiosities, where I have +been ever since. They call me the invisible chatter-box, and tell +visitors that I escaped from the National Vocabulary at Washington." + +"I am very sorry for you," said Jimmieboy, sympathetically. + +"You needn't be," said the voice. "I'm happy! I'm the only curiosity +here that can be impudent to King Jack. I can say what I please, you +know, and there's no way of punishing me; I'm like a newspaper in that +respect. I can go into any home, high or low, say what I please, and +there you are. Nobody can hurt me at all. Oh, it's just immense. I play +all sorts of tricks on Jack, too. I get right up in front of his mouth +and talk ridiculous nonsense, and people think he says it. Why, only the +other night a Snow Man I don't like went in to see Jack, and Jack liked +him tremendously, too, and was really glad to see him; but before the +King had a chance to say a word I hallooed out: 'Get out of here, you +donkey. Go make snow-balls of your head and throw them at yourself;' and +the Snow Man thought Jack said it, and, do you know, he went outside and +did it. He's been laid up ever since." + +"I think that was a very mean thing to do," said Jimmieboy. + +"I'd agree with you if I had any conscience, but alas! they've deprived +me of that too," sighed the voice. "But look out," it added, hastily. +"Throw yourself into that snow-bank or you'll fall into the river." + +Without waiting to think why, Jimmieboy obeyed the voice and threw +himself headlong into a huge snow bank at his side, and glanced +anxiously about him. + +He was indeed, as the voice had said, on the very edge of the ice, and +another yard's advance would have landed him head over heels in the +rushing water. + +"That would have been awful, wouldn't it?" he said to the Stove, as his +little friend came up. + +"Yes, it would," returned the Stove. "It would have put out the lights +in your clothes, and that would have been very awful, for I find we have +come away without any matches. Jump into the boat, now, and row as +straight for the other side as you can." + +Jimmieboy looked about him for a boat, but couldn't see one. + +"There is no boat," he said. + +"Yes, there is--jump!" cried the Stove. + +And Jimmieboy jumped, and, strange to relate, found himself in an +instant seated amidships in an exquisitely light row-boat made entirely +of ice. + +"Row fast, now," said the Stove. "If you don't the boat will melt before +we can get across." + + + + +XV. + +IN THE HEART OF FROSTLAND. + + + "We're afloat! + We're afloat! + In our trim ice-boat; + And we row-- + Yeave ho! + +"I guess I won't sing any more," said the Gas Stove. "It's a hard song +to sing, that is, particularly when you've never heard it before, and +can't think of another rhyme for boat." + +"That's easy enough to find," returned Jimmieboy, pulling at the oars. +"Coat rhymes with boat, and so do note and moat and goat and----" + +"Very true," assented the Stove, "but it wouldn't do to use coat because +we take our coats off when we row. Note is good enough but you don't +have time to write one when you are singing a sea-song. Moat isn't any +good, because nobody'd know whether you meant the moat of a castle, a +sun-moat, or the one in your eye. As for goats, goats don't go well in +poetry. So I guess it's just as well to stop singing right here." + +"How fast we go!" said Jimmieboy. + +"What did you expect?" asked the Stove. "The bottom of this boat is as +slippery as can be, and, of course, going up the river against the +current we get over the water faster than if we were going the other way +because we--er--because we--well because we do." + +"Seems to me," said Jimmieboy, "I'd better turn out some of the gas in +my coat. I'm melting right through the seat here." + +"So am I," returned the Stove, with an anxious glance at the icy craft. +"It won't be more than a minute before I melt my end of the boat all to +pieces. I'm afraid we'll have to take to our arctics after all. I +brought a pair of your father's along, and it's a good thing for us that +he has big feet, for you'll have to get in one and I in the other." + +Just then the stern of the boat melted away, and the Stove, springing up +from his seat and throwing himself into one of the arctics, with his +ammunition and rubber hose, floated off. Jimmieboy had barely time to +get into the other arctic when his end of the ice-boat also gave way, +and a cross-current in the stream catching the arctic whirled it about +and carried it and its little passenger far away from the Stove who +shortly disappeared around a turn in the river, so that Jimmieboy was +left entirely alone in utter ignorance as to where he really was or what +he should do next. Generally Jimmieboy was a very brave little boy, but +he found his present circumstances rather trying. To be floating down a +strange river in a large overshoe, with absolutely no knowledge of the +way home, and a very dim notion only as to how he had managed to get +where he was, was terrifying, and when he realized his position, great +tears fell from Jimmieboy's eyes, freezing into little pearls of ice +before they landed in the bottom of the golosh, where they piled up so +rapidly that the strange craft sank further and further into the water +and would certainty have sunk with their weight had not the voice +Jimmieboy had encountered a little while before come to his rescue. + +[Illustration: "GOLOSH, AHOY!"] + +"Golosh, ahoy!" cried the voice. "Captain! Captain! Lean over the side +and cry in the river or you'll sink your boat." + +The sound of the voice was a great relief to the little sailor who at +once tried to obey the order he had received but found it unnecessary +since his tears immediately dried up. + +"Come out here in the boat with me!" cried Jimmieboy. "I'm awful +lonesome and I don't know what to do." + +"Then there is only one thing you can do," said the voice from a point +directly over the buckle of the arctic. "And that is to sit still and +let time show you. It's a great thing, Jimmieboy, when you don't know +what to do and can't find any one to tell you, to sit down and do +nothing, because if you did something you'd be likely to find out +afterwards that it was the wrong thing. When I was young, in the days +when I was what I used to be, I once read a poem that has lingered with +me ever since. It was called 'Wait and See' and this is the way it went: + + "When you are puzzled what to do, + And no one's nigh to help you out; + You'll find it for the best that you + Should wait until Time gives the clew. + And then your business go about-- + Of this there is no doubt. + + "Just see the cow! She never knows + What's going to happen next, so she + Contented 'mongst the daises goes, + In clover from her head to toes, + From care and trouble ever free-- + She simply waits, you see! + + "The horse, unlike the cow, in fear + Jumps to and fro at maddest rate, + Tears down the street, doth snort and rear, + And knocks the wagon out of gear-- + And just because he does not wait, + His woes accumulate. + + "D. Crockett, famous in the past, + The same sage thought hath briefly wed + To words that must forever last, + Wherever haply they be cast: + 'Be sure you're right, then go ahead,' + "That's what D. Crockett said. + +"Lots in that. If you don't know what to do," continued the voice, "don't +do it." + +"I won't," said Jimmieboy. "But do you know where we are?" + +"Yes," said the voice. "I am here and you are there, and I think if we +stay just as we are forever there is not likely to be any change, so why +repine? We are happy." + +Just then the golosh passed into a huge cavern, whose sides glistened +like silver, and from the roof of which hung millions of beautiful and +at times fantastically shaped icicles. + +"This," said the voice, "is the gateway to the Kingdom of Frostland. At +the far end you will see a troop of ice soldiers standing guard. I doubt +very much if you can get by them, unless you have retained a great deal +of that heat you had. How is it? Are you still lit?" + +"I am," said Jimmieboy. "Just put your hand on my chest and see how hot +it is." + +"Can't do it," returned the voice, "for two reasons. First, I haven't a +hand to do it with, and secondly, if I had, I couldn't see with it. +People don't see with their hands any more than they sing with their +toes; but say, Jimmieboy, wouldn't it be funny if we could do all those +things--eh? What a fine poem this would be if it were only sensible: + + "A singular song having greeted my toes, + I stared till I weakened the sight of my nose + To see what it was, and observed a sweet voice + Come forth from the ears of Lucinda, so choice. + + "I cast a cough-drop in the lovely one's eyes, + Who opened her hands in a tone of surprise, + And remarked, in a way that startled my wife, + 'I never was treated so ill in my life.' + + "Then tears in a torrent coursed over her arms, + And the blush on her teeth much heightened her charms. + As, tossing the cough-drop straight back, with a sneeze, + She smashed the green goggles I wear on my knees." + +Jimmieboy laughed so long and so loudly at this poetical effusion that +he attracted the attention of the guards, who immediately loaded their +guns and began to pepper the invaders with snow-balls. + +"Throw yourself down on your stomach in the toe of the golosh," +whispered the voice, "and they'll never know you are there. Keep +perfectly quiet, and when any questions are asked, even if you are +discovered, let me answer them. I can disguise myself so that they won't +recognize me, and they'll think I'm your voice. In this way I think I +can get you through in safety." + +So Jimmieboy threw himself down in the golosh, and the voice began to +sing. + + "No, no, my dear, + I do not fear + The devastating snow-ball; + When it strikes me, + I shriek with glee, + And eat it like a dough-ball." + +[Illustration: "HALT!" CRIED THE ICE-GUARDS.] + +"Halt!" cried the ice-guards. "Who are you?" + +"I am a haunted overshoe," replied the voice. "I am on the foot of a +phantom which only appears at uncertain hours, and is consequently now +invisible to you. + + "And, so I say, + Oh, fire away, + I fear ye not, icicles; + Howe'er ye shoot, + I can't but hoot, + Your act so greatly tickles." + +"Shall we let it through?" asked the Captain of the guards. + +"I move we do," said one High Private. + +"I move we don't," said another. + +"All in favor of doing one thing or the other say aye," cried the +Captain. + +"Aye!" roared the company. + +"Contrary-minded, no," added the Captain. + +"No!" roared the company. + +"Both motions are carried," said the Captain. "We will now adjourn for +luncheon." + +The overshoe, meanwhile, had floated on down through the gates and was +now out of the guards' sight and Jimmieboy sprang to his feet and looked +about him once more, and what he saw was so beautiful that he sat +speechless with delight. He was now in the heart of Frostland, and +before him loomed the Palace, a marvelously massive pile of richly +carven ice-blocks transparent as glass; and within, seated upon a throne +of surpassing brilliance and beauty, sat King Jack surrounded by his +courtiers, who were singing songs the like of which Jimmieboy never +before had heard. + +"Now remember, Jimmieboy," said the voice, as the overshoe with its +passengers floated softly up to the huge snow-pier that ran out into the +river at this point where they disembarked--"remember I am to do all the +talking. Otherwise you might get into trouble." + +"All right, Voicy," began Jimmieboy, and then there came a terrific +shout from within. + +[Illustration: "WHO COMES HERE?"] + +"Who comes here?" cried King Jack, rising from his throne and pointing +his finger at Jimmieboy. + +"I am a traveling minstrel," Jimmieboy seemed to reply though in reality +it was the kind-hearted voice that said it. "And I have come a thousand +and six miles, eight blocks, fourteen feet, six inches to recite to your +Majesty a poem I have written in honor of your approaching Jubilee." + +"Have I a Jubilee approaching?" roared Jack, turning to his Secretary of +State, who was so startled that his right arm melted. + +"Y--yes, your Majesty," stammered the Secretary, with a low bow. "It is +coming along at the rate of sixty seconds a minute." + +"Why have I not been informed of this before?" roared Jack, casting a +glance at the cowering Secretary that withered the nose straight off +his face. "Don't you know that Jubilees are useful to a man only because +other people give him presents in honor of the event? And here you've +kept me in ignorance of the fact all this time, and the chances are I +won't get a thing;--for I've neglected my relatives dreadfully." + +"Sire," pleaded the Secretary, "all that you say is true, but I have +attended to all that. I have informed your friends that the Jubilee is +coming, and they are all preparing pleasant little surprises for you. We +are going to give your Majesty a surprise party, which is the finest +kind of a party, because you don't have to go home after it is over, and +the guests bring their own fried oysters, and pay all the bills." + +"Ah!" said Jack, melting a little. "You are a good man, after all. I +will raise your salary, and send your children a skating-pond on +Christmas day; but when is this Jubilee to take place?" + +"In eight hundred and forty-seven years," returned the voice, who did +not like the Secretary of State, and wanted to get him in trouble. "On +the eighty-second day of July." + +"What--a--at?" roared the King, glaring at the Secretary. + +"I didn't say a word, sire," cried the unfortunate Secretary. + +"No?" sneered Jack. "I suppose it was I that answered my own question, +eh? That settles you. The idea of my waiting eight hundred and +forty-seven years for a Jubilee that is to take place on an impossible +date! Executioner, take the Secretary of State out to the furnace-room, +and compel him to sit before the fire until there's only enough of him +left to make one snow-ball. Then take that and throw it at the most +decrepit hack-driver in my domain. The humiliation of this delayer of +Jubilees must be complete." + +The Secretary of State was then led weeping away, and Jack, turning to +the awed Jimmieboy, shouted out: + +"Now for the minstrel. If the poem pleaseth our Royal Coolness, the +singer shall have the position made vacant by that unfortunate +snow-drift I have just degraded. Step right up, young fellow, and turn +on the poem." + +"Step up to the foot of the throne and make a bow, and leave the rest to +me," whispered the voice to Jimmieboy. "All you've got to do is to move +your lips and wave your arms. I'll do the talking." + +Jimmieboy did as he was bade. He took up his stand before the throne, +bowed, and the voice began to declaim as Jimmieboy's lips moved, and his +arms began to shoot out, first to the left and then to the right. + +"This poem," said the voice, "is in the language of the Snortuguese, and +has been prepared at great expense for this occasion, fourteen gallons +of ink having been consumed on the first stanza alone, which runs as +follows: + + "Jack Frigidos, + Jack Frigidos, + Oh, what a trope you are! + How you do shine + And ghibeline, + And conjugate afar!" + +"It begins very well, oh, minstrel!" said Jack, with an approving nod. +"The ink was well expended. Mount thee yon table, and from thence +deliver thyself of the remnant of thy rhyme." + +"Thanks," returned the voice; "I will." + +"Get up on the table, Jimmieboy," the voice added, "and we'll finish 'em +off there. Be a little slow about it, for I've got to have time to +compose the rest of the poem." + +So Jimmieboy clambered up the leg of the table, and in a few moments was +ready for the voice to begin, which the voice proceeded to do. + +"I will repeat the first verse, your Majesty, for the sake of +completeness. And here goes: + + "Jack Frigidos, + Jack Frigidos, + Oh, what a trope you are! + How you do shine, + And ghibeline, + And conjugate afar! + + "How debonair + Is thy back hair; + Thy smile how contraband! + Would I could ape + Thy shapely shape, + And arrogate thy hand! + + "That nose of thine, + How superfine! + How pertinent thy chin. + How manifest + The palimpsest + And contour of thy shin! + + "How ormolu + Thy revenue! + How dusk thy silhouette! + How myrtilly + Thy pedigree + Doth grace thine amulet! + + "What man is there, + Ay, anywhere, + What mortal chanticleer, + Can fail to find + Unto his mind + Thy buxom bandolier! + + "Ah, Frigidos! + Jack Frigidos, + In parcel or in keg, + Another like + Thee none can strike + From Dan to Winnipeg." + +Here the voice paused. + +"Is that all?" queried Jack Frost. + +"It is all I have written up to this moment," the voice answered. "Of +course there are seventy or eighty more miles of it, because, as your +Majesty is well aware, it would take many a league of poetry fitly to +commemorate your virtues." + +"Your answer is pleasing unto me," replied the monarch of Frostland, +when the voice had thus spoken. "The office of the Secretary of State is +yours. The salary is not large, but the duties are. They are to consist +mainly of----" + +Here the King was interrupted by a tremendous noise without. Evidently +some one was creating a disturbance, and as Jimmieboy turned to see what +it was, he saw the great ice mountain looming up over the far-distant +horizon melt slowly away and dwindle out of sight; and then messengers, +breathless with haste, rushed in and cried out to the King: + +[Illustration: THE GAS-STOVE DESTROYING FROSTLAND.] + +"We are attacked! we are attacked! A tribe from a far country, commanded +by the Gas Stove, is even now within our boundaries, armed with a +devastating hose, breathing forth fire, by which already has been +destroyed the whole western frontier." + +"What is to be done?" cried Jack, in alarm, and springing to his feet. +"Can we not send a regiment of cold winds out against them, and freeze +them to their very marrows and blow out the gas?" + +"We cannot, sire," returned the messenger, "for the heat is so deadly +that the winds themselves thaw into balmy zephyrs before they reach the +enemy." + +"Not so!" cried the voice from Jimmieboy's lips. "For I will save you if +you will place the matter in my hands." + +"Noble creature!" sobbed Jack, grasping Jimmieboy by the hand. "Save my +kingdom from destruction, and all that you ask of me in the future is +yours." + +And Jimmieboy, promising to help Jack, started out, clad with all the +authority of his high office, to meet the Gas Stove. + + + + +XVI. + +THE END OF THE STORY. + + +AS Jimmieboy proceeded along the icy road he observed that everything +was beginning to thaw, and then, peering as far into the distance as he +could, he saw a great flame burning fiercely and scorching everything +with which it came in contact. It was quite evident that the Gas Stove +had brought with him the most effective ammunition possible for his +purposes. + +"I don't see exactly how he does it," said the newly appointed Secretary +of State, as he ran hurriedly toward the devastating fire. + +"Easy enough," returned the voice. "He has brought along a large +quantity of gas and a garden hose, and he has turned on the gas just as +you would turn on water, lit it, and there you are. There is absolutely +no withstanding him, and unless he can be induced to stop very shortly, +he'll destroy this whole kingdom, and we'll have nothing but a desert +ocean; and I can tell you, Jimmieboy, a desert ocean where there is +nothing but water is worse than a desert desert where there is nothing +but sand." + +"It seems almost a pity to destroy such a beautiful place as this," said +Jimmieboy, looking about him, taking note of the great tall ice-covered +trees and the frost flowers and grasses at the road-side. "But, you +know, Jack Frost bit my little brother, which was very cowardly of him, +and that's why the Gas Stove and I have come here to fight." + +"I think you are wrong there," said the voice. "I don't believe Jack any +more than kissed him; but if he did bite him, it was because he loved +him." + +Jimmieboy had never thought of it in that light before. All he knew was +that whatever Jack Frost had done, it had brought tears to little Russ's +eyes and woe to his heart. + +"It's rather a funny way to show love to bite a person," said Jimmieboy. + +"Just let me ask you a few questions," said the voice. "Do you like +cherries and peaches?" + +"Oh, don't I!" cried Jimmieboy, smacking his lips. "I just dote on 'em!" + +"Then," said the voice, + + "Why do you bite the cherry sweet? + Why in the peach do your teeth meet?" + +"Never thought of it that way," said Jimmieboy. + +"I suppose not," returned the voice. "Are you fond of apples and +gingerbread?" + +"Well, rather!" ejaculated Jimmieboy. + +"Then tell me this," asked the voice: + + "Why do you gnaw the apple red? + Why do you chew your gingerbread?" + +"Because I like 'em," returned Jimmieboy. + + "Why do you crunch your taffy brown? + Why do you nibble your jumble down? + Why do you munch your candy ball? + Why do you chew at all--at all?" + +continued the voice. + +"To make things last longer. 'Tain't proper to gulp 'em all down at +once," answered Jimmieboy. + +"And that's why Jack Frost bit little Russ," asserted the voice. "In the +first place, he loved him. Little Russ was to him as sweet as a cherry +is to you. In the second place, he took a little wee bite, because it +wasn't proper to gulp him all down. To-morrow that bite spot will be +well, and little Russ will be none the worst for it. Now I don't see why +you should want to ruin all this beautiful country just for that. It +isn't a crime to love babies or to eat cherries." + +"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "But Jack Frost has done other things. He +killed a lot of mamma's flowers." + +"No, he didn't," returned the voice. "Your mamma left 'em out-doors all +night, and Jack came along and did just what the bees do. He took all +the sweetness he could find out of 'em, and brought them here, where he +planted them and made them appear like flowers of silver. You see what +the heat down there is doing?" + +Jimmieboy looked, and saw the icy covering melting off the flowers and +trees, and as the silver coating fell away they would wave softly in the +balmy air for a moment, and then wither and crumble away. + +"Isn't that too bad?" he said. + +"It is, indeed," replied the voice. "Those flowers and trees would have +stood and lived on forever in their ice coats--ever fresh, ever happy. +The warmth from the invader's fire gives them one glad mad moment of +ecstasy, and then they wither away, and are lost forever. Is that worth +while, my boy?" + +The voice quivered a little as it uttered these words, and Jimmieboy +felt tears rising in his own eyes too. Jack Frost was not so bad a +fellow, after all, as he had been made out. + +"But he made our hired man's back ache when he went to dig some holes +for the fence posts," said Jimmieboy, who now felt that he should have +some excuse for his presence in Frostland, and on a mission of +destruction. "Was that right of him?" + +"Even if it was his fault, it was right," said the voice. "I don't +believe it was his fault, though. Hired men have a way of having +back-ache when there's lots to do. But supposing Jack did give it to +him. That hired man was taking a spade and scarring Mother Earth with +its sharp edge. Jack Frost gets all that he has from Mother Earth. She +has given him work to do--work that has made him what he is--and it was +his duty to protect her." + +"Well, I don't know what to do," said Jimmieboy, beginning to sob. "I +came here for revenge, and I don't think----" + +"There is only one thing for you to do, be true to those who trust you," +said the voice. "Now who trusts you? Your nurse doesn't--she wouldn't +let you out of her sight. Your papa believes in you, but he never would +have intrusted such a mission as this to your hands; nor would your +mamma or little Russ. On the other hand, Jack Frost has made you +Secretary of State, and you promised to help him in this dreadful +trial--_he trusts you_. As the poem says, + + "E'en though it's sure to take and bust you, + Be ever true to them that trust you." + +"I'll save them," said Jimmieboy. And then he started off on a run down +the road, and ere long stood face to face with the Gas Stove. The latter +immediately threw down his hose, turned off the gas, and clasped +Jimmieboy to his heart. + +"Saved! Saved!" he cried. "I have found you at last. Dear me, how +anxious I have been about you!" And then he burst out in song: + + "But now, O joy? + My averdupoy + Will steadily increase; + For, now you're back, + My woes will pack + Their clothes in their valise, + + "And fly afar, + To the uttermost star + That shines up in the skies, + While you and I + Will warble high + The gleesomest of cries. + + "We'll sing and sing, + And warble and sing, + And warble, and sing, and sing, + And warble and sing, + And sing, sing, sing, + And warble and sing, sing, sing," + +"Come off!" ejaculated the voice. "That's mighty poor poetry for a Stove +that's as glad as you are." + +"Why, Jimmieboy, you pain me," said the Gas Stove, who thought that it +was his little friend that had spoken. "I didn't think you would +criticize my song of happiness that way." + +"I never said a word," said Jimmieboy. "It was my friend the voice, who +helped me when I was in trouble, and----" + +"And by whose efforts," interrupted the voice, "our Jimmieboy here is +now the Right Honorable Jamesboy. Secretary of State to his Majesty the +Emperor of Frostland, Prince of Iceberg, Marquis Thawberry, and Chief +Ice-cream Freezer to all the crowned heads of Europe, Asia, Africa, +Austrilia and New Jersey. I'd advise you to take off your hat, Mr. +Stove, for you are in the presence of a great man." + +"No, no," cried Jimmieboy, as the Gas Stove doffed his iron lid; "don't +take off your hat to me, Stovey. I am all that he says, but I am still +Jimmieboy, and your friend." + +"But what becomes of your war?" queried the Gas Stove, ruefully. "I +can't fight against you, and you are a part of the government." + +"That's a very sensible conclusion," said the voice. "Only I wouldn't +let King Jack know that, or he wouldn't ever let Jimmieboy go away from +here. What you want to do is to make terms that will be satisfactory to +both parties, get Jack Frost to agree to 'em, and there you are. If he +won't agree, the Gas Stove will have to go on with the war until he does +agree." + +"That's the thing to do, I suppose," said the Stove. "What shall I +insist upon, Mr. Secretary?" + +"Well, I think Jack ought to quit biting babies, no matter if he does +love 'em," said Jimmieboy. + +"I insist upon it," said the Gas Stove, firmly. + +"I think, too," said Jimmieboy, "that he ought not to run off with so +many flowers." + +"If you do not agree to that, Mr. Secretary," returned the Stove, "I +shall turn on my canned devastation again." + +"I shall endeavor to secure the King's consent," replied Jimmieboy. +"And, furthermore, he must keep away from the water-pipes in my papa's +house. He froze 'em all up last winter." + +"That is my ultimatum," said the Stove. + +"Your what?" queried Jimmieboy. + +"My last word," explained the Stove. + +"It's long enough to have been a half-dozen of your last words," laughed +the voice. "But is that all you're to agree upon?" + +"I don't know of anything more," said Jimmieboy. + +"Nor I," said the Stove. + +"You're a mean couple," ejaculated the voice, angrily. "If I had my way, +you'd do something for one who has served you when you were in trouble," +he added, addressing Jimmieboy. "Where would you have been if it hadn't +been for--for--well, for a friend of mine?" + +"I don't know who you mean," said Jimmieboy. + +"He wants something for himself," whispered the Gas Stove, "and he is +right." + +"Oh, you don't know who I mean, eh?" sneered the voice. And then he +added: + + "Who saved you from the icy sea. + And brought you through S-A-F-E? + Why, ME! + + "Who thought about that jubilee, + And filled Jack Frost chock up with glee? + Why, ME! + + "Who all your goings did o'ersee, + And got this lofty place for thee? + Why, ME! + +"That's who. Now what are you going to do about it?" + +"He's going back to Jack Frost," said the Gas Stove, "and he is going to +demand that you shall be made Secretary of State in his place, and he is +going to tell Jack that if he ever removes you from that position I +shall return and destroy the country." + +"You are very moderate in your demands," said the voice. "I think King +Jack will be very foolish if he refuses to accede to them, particularly +that one having reference to myself. I do not care for the office, of +course, but since there seems to be a demand for me, I shall accept." + +[Illustration: THE GAS-STOVE IS INTRODUCED TO THE KING.] + +So Jimmieboy, followed by the Gas Stove and the voice, returned to the +palace, and the demands of the Stove were laid before the monarch. + +"I'll agree to 'em all gladly," said he, "save that which forces me to +deprive myself of your valuable services. Was he quite firm about that?" + +"He was!" shouted the voice, before Jimmieboy could speak. + +Here somebody else in the distance seemed to call: "Jimmieboy! Hi! +Jimmieboy!" + +"Shall I accede or stand by you?" asked Jack, taking Jimmieboy by the +hand. + +"You'd better accede," said Jimmieboy, looking around to see who was +calling him, "for I have just heard some one calling me--my papa, I +think--and I guess it's time for me to get up." + +[Illustration: THE GAS-STOVE BURNING MERRILY AND WINKING AT HIM FROM THE +FIREPLACE.] + +What Jack's response to this curious remark would have been no one +knows, for just then a most strange thing took place. Jack Frost and his +palace in an instant faded completely from view, and Jimmieboy in +surprise closed his eyes, rubbed them with both his fists, and then +opened them again, to find himself in his little cot in the nursery, the +gas-stove burning merrily and winking at him from the fire-place, and +the friendly voice, as usual, nowhere to be seen, and now not even to be +heard. + +No sole remnant of the frozen country remained, save a few beautiful +frost pictures on the windows, which, it seemed to Jimmieboy, Jack had +left there in remembrance of the services Jimmieboy had done him; and as +for the frost kiss on little Russ's chin, it had become as invisible as +that far sweeter kiss that mamma had placed upon that very same spot +when she first discovered what Jack had done. + +(THE END.) + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Half-Hours with Jimmieboy, by John Kendrick Bangs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HALF-HOURS WITH JIMMIEBOY *** + +***** This file should be named 39757.txt or 39757.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/5/39757/ + +Produced by Annie R. 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