The Land of Topsy Turvey
If Maude and Willie had been in a state of somnolency during theirsojourn in Shadow Land, they felt themselves very much awake on reachingthe land of Topsy Turvey. They knew they were in Topsy Turvey Landbecause they were greeted with a jingling chorus to that effectimmediately they opened their eyes:--
O this is Topsy Turvey Land, Where ev'ry one is gay and bland, And day is always night. We welcome to all strangers give, For by their custom we must live, Because we're so polite.
O this is Topsy Turvey Land, And all our goods are in demand, By mortal, fay and sprite. Our novelties are warranted, And through the land their fame is spread, Because we're so polite.
Surely they had been whisked back to Charing Cross again without knowingit? The long wide thoroughfare in which the children now foundthemselves was just like one of the main shopping streets in London.Some parts reminded them of Regent Street, some of the Strand, and someof Oxford Street. Yes, and there was the Lowther Arcade, only somehow alittle different. It was odd. Toy shops, novelty stores, picture shops,and shops of all sorts and sizes greeted them on either hand. Moreover,there were the shopkeepers and their assistants, and crowds of peoplehurrying by, jostling the loungers and the gazers; and the onepoliceman, who was talking to a fat person in a print gown who wasstanding at the area steps of the only private house they could see.They were wondering what they should do when the policeman cried out:--
"Come along there! Now then, move on!" How rude of him. However, they"moved on," and were nearly knocked down by the Zankiwank, who dartedinto the post-office to receive a telegram and to send one in reply.
They followed him, of course; they knew the telegram was from theBletherwitch, and the Zankiwank read it out to them:--
"Fashions in bonnets changed. Have ordered six mops. Don't forget the cauliflower. Postpone the wedding at once. No cards."
"Now what does that mean," murmured the expectant bridegroom. "MyBletherwitch cannot be well. I'll send her some cough lozenges." So hewrote a reply and despatched it:--
"Take some cough drops every five minutes. Have ordered cucumber for supper. Pay the cabman and come by electricity."
"That certainly should induce her to come, don't you think so? She is sovery sensitive. Well, I must not be impatient, she is exceedinglycharming when you catch her in the right mood."
Maude scarcely believed that the Bletherwitch could possess so manycharms, or she would not keep her future husband waiting so long forher. But she knew it was useless offering any advice on so delicate asubject, so she and Willie begged the Zankiwank to be their guide and toshow them the Lions of Topsy Turvey, which he readily agreed to do.
And now, as they left the post-office, they turned their attention tothe shops and were surprised to read the names over the windows ofseveral individuals they had already met in the train. For instance, theWimble lived next door to the Wamble, and each one had printed in thewindow a very curious legend.
This is what the Wamble had:--
GOOD RESOLUTIONS BOUGHT, SOLD AND EXCHANGED.
A FEW BAD, AND SOME SLIGHTLY DAMAGED, TO BE DISPOSED OF--A BARGAIN.
_No connection with the business next door._
While the Wimble stated the nature of his wares as follows:--
BAD RESOLUTIONS BOUGHT, SOLD AND EXCHANGED.
A FEW GOOD, AND SOME SLIGHTLY INDIFFERENT, TO BE DISPOSED OF--A BARGAIN.
_No connection with the business next door._
"No connection with the business next door," repeated Willie.
"Why, you told us that they were brothers--twins," indignantly criedMaude.
"So they are! So they are! Don't you see they are twins from a familypoint of view only. In business, of course, they are desperately opposedto each other. That is why they are so prosperous," explained theZankiwank.
"Are they prosperous? I never heard of such a thing as buying andselling Resolutions. How can one buy a Good Resolution?" enquired Maude.
"Or exchange Bad Resolutions," said Willie. "It is quite wicked."
"Not at all. Not at all. So many people make Good Resolutions and nevercarry them out, therefore if there were no place where you coulddispose of them they would be wasted."
"But Bad Resolutions? Nobody makes Bad Resolutions--at least they oughtnot to, and I don't believe it is true!"
"Pardon me," interrupted the Zankiwank. "If you make a Good Resolutionand don't carry it out--doesn't it become a Bad Resolution? Answer methat."
This, however, was an aspect of the question that had never occurred tothem, and they were unable to reply.
"It seems to me to be nonsense--and worse than nonsense--for one brotherto deal in Bad Resolutions and the other in Good Resolutions. Why do notthey become a Firm and mix the two together?" responded Maude.
"You horrify me! Mix the Good and the Bad together? That would never do.The Best Resolutions in the world would be contaminated if they were allwarehoused under one roof. Besides, the Wimble is himself full of GoodResolutions, so that he can mingle with the Bad without suffering anyevil, while the Wamble is differently constituted!"
The children did not understand the Zankiwank's argument a bit--it allseemed so ridiculous. A sudden thought occurred to Willie.
"Who, then, collects the Resolutions?"
"Oh, a person of no Resolution whatever. He commenced life with only oneResolution, and he lost it, or it got mislaid, or he never made use ofit, or something equally unfortunate, and so he was christened Want ofResolution, and he does the collecting work very well, considering allthings."
No doubt the Zankiwank knew what he was talking about, but as thechildren did not--what did it signify? Therefore they asked no morequestions, but went along the street marvelling at all they saw. Thenext shop at which they stopped was kept by
JORUMGANDER THE YOUNGER, DEALER IN MAGIC AND MYSTERY.
"Jorumgander the Younger is not of much use now," said the Zankiwanksorrowfully. "He chiefly aims at making a mystery of everything, but somany people not engaged in trade make a mystery of nothing every day,that he is sadly handicapped. And most sensible people hate a mystery ofany kind, unless it belongs to themselves, so that he finds customersvery shy. Once upon a time he would get hold of a simple story and turnit into such a gigantic mystery that all the world would be mystified.But those happy days are gone, and he thinks of turning his businessinto a company to sell Original Ideas, when he knows where to findthem."
"I don't see what good can come of making a mystery ofanything--especially if anything is true," sagaciously remarkedMaude.
"But _anything_ is not true. Nor is _anything_ untrue. There is thedifficulty. If anything were true, nothing would be untrue, and thenwhere should we be?"
"Nowhere," said Willie without thinking.
"Exactly. That is just where we are now, and a very nice place it is.There is one thing, however, that Jorumgander the Younger--there he iswith the pink eye-brows and green nose. Don't say anything about hispersonal appearance. What I was going to say he will say instead. It isa habit we have occasionally. He is my grandfather, you know."
"Your grandfather! What! that young man? Why, he is not more thantwenty-two and three quarters, I'm sure," replied Maude.
"You are right. He _is_ twenty-two and three quarters. You don't quiteunderstand our relationships. The boy, as you have no doubt heard, isfather to the man. Very well. I am the man. When he was a boy on myaunt's side he was father to me. That's plain enough. He has grown oldersince then, though he is little more than a boy in discretion still,therefore he is my grandfather."
"How very absurdly you do talk, Mr Zankiwank," laughed Willie; "but hereis your grandfather," and at that moment Jorumgander the Younger lefthis shop and approached them with a case of pens which he offered forsale.
"Try my Magic Pens. They are the best in the market, because there areno others. There is no demand for them, and few folk will have them fora gift.
Therefore I can highly recommend them."
"How can you recommend your pens, when you declare that nobody will buythem?" demanded Willie.
"Because they are a novelty. They are Magic Pens, you know, and ofcourse as nobody possesses any, they must be rare. That is logic, Ithink."
"Buy one," said the Zankiwank, "he has not had any supper yet."
"In what way are they Magic Pens?" enquired Maude.
"Ah! I thought I should find a customer between Michaelmas and May Day,"cried Jorumgander the Younger, quite cheerfully. "The beauty of thesepens is that they never tell a story."
"But suppose you want to write a story?"
"That is a different thing. If you have the ability to write a story youwon't want a Magic Pen. These pens are only for every-day use. Forexample: if you want to write to your charwoman to tell her you have gotthe toothache, and you haven't got the toothache, the Magic Pen refusesto lend itself to telling a--a----"
"Crammer," suggested Willie.
"Crammer. Thank you. I don't know what it means, but crammer is thecorrect word. The Magic Pen will simplify the truth whether you wish totell it or not."
"I do not understand," whispered Maude.
"Let me try to explain," said Jorumgander the Younger politely. "TheMagic Pen will only write exactly what you think--what is in your mind,what you ought to say, whether you wish to or not."
"A very useful article, I am sure," said the Zankiwank. "I gave sixdozen away last Christmas, but nobody used them after a few days, and Ican't think why."
"Ah!" sighed Jorumgander the Younger, "and I have had all my stockreturned on my hands. The first day I opened my shop I sold more than Ican remember. And the next morning all the purchasers came and wantedtheir money back. They said if they wanted to tell the truth, they knewhow to do it, and did not want to be taught by an evil-disposed nib. ButI am afraid they were not speaking the truth then, at any rate. Here,let me make you a present of one a-piece, and you can write and tell meall about yourselves when you go home. Meanwhile, as the streets arecrowded, and our policeman is not looking, let us sing a quiet song tocelebrate the event."
We sing of the Magic Pen That never tells a story, That in the hands of men Would lead them on to glory. For what you ought to do, And you should all be saying, In fact of all things true This pen will be bewraying.
So let us sing a roundelay-- Pop goes the Weazel; Treacle's four pence a pound to-day, Which we think should please all.
What the chorus had to do with the song nobody knew, but they all sangit--everybody in the street, and all the customers in the shops as well,and even the policeman sang the last line.
You take it in your hand And set yourself a-writing; No matter what you've planned, The truth 'twill be inditing. And thus you cannot fail, To speak your mind correctly, And honestly you'll sail, But never indirectly.
So let us sing a roundelay-- Pop goes the Weazel; Treacle's four pence a pound to-day, Which we think will please all!
Again everybody danced and sang till the policeman told them to "moveon," when Jorumgander the Younger put up his shutters and went away.
* * * * *
"A most original man," exclaimed the Zankiwank; "he ought to have been apostman!"
"A postman!--why?"
"Because he was always such a capital boy with his letters. He knew hisalphabet long before he could spell, and now he knows every letter youcan think of."
"I don't see anything very original in that," said Willie. "There areonly twenty-six letters in the English language that he can know!"
"Only twenty-six letters! Dear me, why millions of people are writingfresh letters every day, and he knows them all directly he sees them! Ihope you will go to school some day and learn differently from that!Only twenty-six letters," repeated the Zankiwank in wonderment, "onlytwenty-six letters." Then he cried suddenly, "How convenient it would beif everybody was his own Dictionary!"
"That is impossible. One cannot be a book."
"Oh yes, nothing simpler. Let everybody choose his own words and givehis own meaning to them!"
"What use would that be?" asked Willie.
"None whatever, because if you always had your own meaning you wouldnot want anybody else to be meaning anything! What a lot of trouble thatwould save! I'll ask the Jackarandajam to make one for me--why, here heis!"
The children recognised the Jackarandajam immediately and shook handswith him.
"I am so glad to see you all. I have just been suffering from a mostsevere attack of Inspiration."
"How very inexplicable--I beg your pardon," moaned the Zankiwank. "It isa little difficult, but it is, I believe, a strictly proper word--thoughI do not pretend to know its meaning."
The Jackarandajam accepted the apology by gracefully bowing, thoughneither felt quite at ease.
"What is the use of saying things you don't mean?" asked Maude.
"None at all, that is the best of it, because we are always doingsomething without any reason."
To attempt to argue with the Zankiwank Maude knew was futile, so shemerely enquired how the Jackarandajam felt after his attack ofInspiration, and what he took for it.
"Nothing," was the simple rejoinder. "It comes and it goes, and thereyou are--at least most of the time."
"What is Inspiration?" said Willie.
The Zankiwank and the Jackarandajam both shook their heads in a solemnmanner, and looked as wise as the Sphinx. Then the former answeredslowly and deliberately--
"Inspiration is the sort of thing that comes when you do not fish forit."
"But," said Willie, who did not quite see the force of the explanation,"you can't fish for a great many things and of course nothing comes. Howdo you manage then?"
This was a decided poser, beating them at their own game, so theZankiwank sent another telegram, presumably to the Bletherwitch, and theJackarandajam made a fresh cigarette, which he carefully refrained fromsmoking. Then he turned to the two children and said mournfully--
"Have you seen my new invention? Ah! it was the result of my recentattack of Inspiration. Come with me and I will show you." Thereupon heled the way to a large square, with a nice garden in the centre, whereall the houses had bills outside to inform the passers by that these
DESIRABLE REVOLVING RESIDENCES WERE TO BE LET OR SOLD.
"All my property. I had the houses built myself from my own plans. Comeinside the first."
So they followed the Jackarandajam and entered the first house.
"The great advantage of these houses," he declared, "is that you canturn them round to meet the sun at will. They are constructed on a newprinciple, being fixed on a pivot. You see I turn this handle by thehall door, and Hey Presto! we are looking into the back garden, whilethe kitchen is round at the front!"
And such was the fact! The house would move any way one wished simply byturning the electric handle.
"It is so convenient, you see, if you don't want to be at home to anyvisitor. When you see anyone coming up the garden path, you move thecrank and away you go, and your visitor, to his well-bred consternation,finds himself gazing in at the kitchen window. And then he naturallydeparts with many misgivings as to the state of his health. Especiallyif the cook is taken by surprise. You should never take a cook bysurprise. It always spoils her photograph."
"Oh dear! Oh dear!" cried Maude, "why will you say such contradictorythings! I don't see the sense of having such a house at all. It wouldupset things so."
"Besides," chimed in Willie, "you would never have any aspect orprospect."
"Are they both good to eat?" said the Jackarandajam, eagerly.
"Of course not. I meant that your house would first be facing the East,and then South, and then West, and then North, and what would be the useof that?"
"No use whatever. That's why we do it. Oh, but do not laugh. We are notquite devoid of reason, because we are all mad!"
"Are you really mad?"
"Yes," was the gay response, "we don't mind it a bit. We are all ascrooked as a teetotaler's corkscrew! I am glad you do not like theRevolving Houses, because I am going to sell them to the Clerk of theWeather and his eight new assistants!"
"I did not know the Clerk of the Weather required any assistance,"exclaimed Willie, though personally he did not know the Clerk of theWeather.
"Oh yes, he must have assistants. He does things so badly, and witheight more he will, if he is careful, do them worse."
Here was another one of those contradictions that the children could notunderstand. I hope you can't, because I don't myself, generally. TheJackarandajam went on reflectively:--
"It is bound to happen. The Clerk of the Weather has only oneassistant now, and it takes the two of them to do a Prog--Prog--don'tinterrupt me--a Prog--Prognostication!--phew, what a beautifulword!--Prognostication ten minutes now. Therefore it stands to reason,as the Sun Dial remarked, that nine could do it in much less time!"
"You will excuse me," halloed the Zankiwank down the next doordining-room chimney, "I beg to differ from you. That is to say on thecontrary. For instance:--If it takes two people ten minutes to do aprog--you must fill in the rest yourself--prog--of course, as there areso many more to do the same thing, it must take them forty-fiveminutes."
"What a brain," exclaimed the Jackarandajam, ecstatically; "he ought tohave been born a Calculating Machine. He beats Euclid and that fellownamed Smith on all points. I never thought of it in the light ofmultiplying the addition."
"More nonsense," observed Willie to Maude. "What does it all mean?" Theylooked out of window and saw the Zankiwank arguing with the Clerk ofthe Weather and the Weather Cock on top of the vane of a large buildingoutside. Every minute they expected to see them tumble down, but theydid not, so to cheer them up the Jackarandajam stood on his head andsang them this comic song:--
THE CLERK OF THE WEATHER.
The Clerk of the Weather went out to walk All down Victoria Street; Of late his ways had caused much talk, And chatter indiscreet. So he donned a suit of mingled sleet, With a dash of falling snow, A rainy tie, and a streaky skye Which barked where'er he'd go.
Then, to the surprise of Willie and Maude, the Jackarandajam began todance wildly, while the Weather Cock sang as follows:--
O cock-a-doodle-doo! The weather will be fine-- If it does not sleet or hail or snow, And if it does not big guns blow, And the sun looks out to shine.
The Jackarandajam stood on his head again and sang the second verse:--
Wrapt up in his thoughts he went along, His manner sad and crossed; With a windy strain he hummed a song, Of thunderbolts and frost. He strode with a Barometrical stride, With forecasts on his brow; Till he tripped up Short upon a slide, Which made him vow a vow.
The Weather Cock at once sang the chorus and the Jackarandajam danced asbefore.
O Cock-a-doodle-doo! The weather will be fine-- If there is no fog, or drenching rain, And thunder does not boom again, And the sun looks out to shine.
Now came the third and last verse:--
His prophesies got all mixed and mulled, The Moon began to blink; And all his faculties were dulled When he saw the Dog Star wink! And up on the steeple tall and black The Weather Cock he crew! He crew and he crowed till he fell in the road, O cock-a-doodle-doo!
And sure enough the Weather Cock did tumble into the road, and the Clerkof the Weather and the Zankiwank tumbled helter skelter after him.Immediately they got up again and rushed through the window, andcatching hold of the children, they whirled them round and round,singing the final chorus all together:--
O cock-a-doodle-doo! The weather will be fine-- If lightning does not flash on high, Nor gloomy be the azure sky, And the sun peeps out to shine.
After which they all disappeared except the Zankiwank, and once againthey found themselves in the street.
"They were both wrong," muttered the Zankiwank to himself, "and yet onewas right."
"How could they both be wrong then? One was right? Very well. Then onlyone was wrong," corrected Maude.
"No, they were both wrong--because I was the right one after all.Besides, you can't always prove a negative, can you?"
"How tiresome of you! You only mentioned two and now say three. I do notbelieve you know what you do mean."
"Not often, sometimes, by accident, you know--only do not tell anybodyelse."
"You are certainly very extraordinary persons--that is all I can say,"said Willie. "You do not do anything quite rationally or naturally."
"Naturally. Why should we? We are the great Middle Classes--neitheralive nor dead. Betwixt and between. Half and half, you know, for now weare in the Spirit World only known to poets and children. But do comealong, or the bicycles will start without us, and we have an appointmentto keep."
Now, how could one even try to tell such an eccentric creature as theZankiwank that he was all wrong and talking fables and fibs andtarra-diddles? Neither of them attempted to correct these erroneousideas, but wondering where they were going next, Maude and Williemounted the bicycles that came as if by magic, and rode off at aterrific rate, though they had never ridden a machine before.
They were almost out of breath when the Zankiwank called out "stop," andaway went the bicycles, and they found themselves standing in front ofan immense edifice with a sign-board swinging from the gambrel roof, onwhich was painted in large golden letters--
TIME WAS MEANT FOR SLAVES.
There was no opportunity to ascertain what the sign meant, for all atonce there darted out of the shop Mr Swinglebinks with whom they hadtravelled from Charing Cross.
"Don't waste your time like that! Make haste, let me have five minutes.I am in a hurry."
"Have you got five minutes to spare?" asked the Zankiwank of Maude.
"Oh yes," she replied. "Why?"
"Let me have them at once then. A gentleman left twenty-five minutesbehind him yesterday and I want to make up half-an-hour for a regularcustomer!" screamed Mr Swinglebinks to the bewildered children.
"But--but--O what do you mean? I have got five minutes to spare and I'lldevote them to you if you like, but I _can't_ give them to you as thoughthey were a piece of toffee," answered Maude with much perplexity, whileWillie stood awe-struck, not comprehending Mr Swinglebinks in the least.
"Time is a tough customer, you know. He is here, he is there, he isgone! He is, he was, he will be. Yet you cannot trap Time, for he islike a sunbeam," muttered the Zankiwank as though he never was short ofTime.
"There, that five minutes is gone--wasted, passed into the vast vacuumof eternity! With my friend Shakespeare of Stratford-on-Avon I can tellyou all about time! 'Time travels in divers paces with divers persons.I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Timegallops withal, and who he stands still withal!' Oh, I know Father Timeand all his tricks. I have counted the Sands of Time. I supply him withhis Hour Glass. Don't you apprehend me?"
They certainly did not. Mr Swinglebinks was more mystifying than all theother persons they had encountered put together. So they made no reply.
"I am collecting Time. Time, so my copy books told me, was meant forSlaves. I always felt sorry for the Slaves. They have no Time, you know,because it is meant for them. Lots of things are meant for you, only youwon't get them. Britons never will be Slaves, so they'll never want forTime. However, as Time was meant for Slaves, I mean to let them have asmuch as I can. So every spare minute or two I can get, I of course sendthem over to them."
"It is ridiculous. You cannot measure time and cut off a bit like that,"ventured Willie.
"Oh yes, you can. A client of mine was laid up the other day--in fact hewas in bed for a fortnight, so, as he had no use for the time he had onhand before him, he just went to sleep and sent ten days round to me!"
"Oh, Mr Zankiwank, what is
this gentleman saying?" said Maude.
"It's all perfectly true," answered the Zankiwank. "You often hear ofsomebody who has half an hour to spare, don't you?"
"Of course."
"Very good. Sometimes you will hear, too, of somebody who has lost tenminutes."
"I see," said Willie.
"And somebody else will tell you they do not know what to do with theirTime?"
"Go on," cried both children, more puzzled than ever.
"Well, instead of letting all the Time be wasted, Mr Swinglebinks hasopened his exchange to receive all the spare time he can, and this hedistributes amongst those who want an hour or a day or a week. But theyhave to pay for it----"
"Pay for it?"
"Time is money," called out Mr Swinglebinks.
"There you are. If Time is money you can exchange Time for money andmoney for Time. Is not that feasible?"
Did anybody ever hear of such queer notions? Maude and Willie were quitetired through trying to think the matter out.
Time was meant for slaves.--Time is money.--Time and Tidewait for no man.--Take Time when Time is.--Take Time by theforelock.--Procrastination is the thief of Time.--Killing Time is nomurder.--Saving Time is no crime. As quick as thought Mr Swinglebinksexhibited these statements on his swinging sign, one after the other,and then he came to them once again.
"Are you convinced now? Let me have a quarter of an hour to send to thepoor slaves. Time was meant for them, you know, and you are using theirproperty without acknowledgment!"
The Zankiwank looked on as wise as an owl, but said nothing.
"Dear me, how you are wasting your time sitting there doing nothing!"said Mr Swinglebinks distractedly. "Time is money--Time is money. Giveme some of the Time you are losing."
"Let us go, Willie," said Maude. "Do not waste any more Time. We have noTime to lose, let alone time to spare! Shall we kill Time?"
She had barely finished speaking when Mr Swinglebinks and his TimeExchange disappeared, and they were alone with the Zankiwank. But notfor long, for almost immediately a troop of school children camebounding home from school, but children with the oddest heads and facesever seen. They were all carrying miniature bellows in their hands,which they were working up and down with great energy.
"Oh, Mr Zankiwank, what is the matter with those children in shortfrocks and knickerbockers? Look at their heads!"
The Zankiwank gazed, but expressed no surprise, and yet the children, ifthey were children, certainly looked very queer, for the boys had gotaged, care-worn faces with moustaches and whiskers, while the littlegirls, in frocks just reaching to their knees, had women's faces, withtheir hair done up in plaits and chignons and Grecian knot fashion, withelderly bonnets perched on the top.
"That," said the Zankiwank, "is the force of habit."
"What habit, please? It does not suit them," said Maude.
"You are mistaken. Good habits become second nature."
"And what do bad habits become?" queried Willie.
"Bad habits," answered the Zankiwank severely, "become no one."
"And these must be bad habits," exclaimed Willie, pointing to thechildren, "for they do not become them."
"I thought their clothes fitted them very well."
"We don't mean their clothes," cried Maude. "We mean their generalappearance."
"Ah! you are referring to the unnatural history aspect of the case. Youmean their heads, of course. They do _not_ fit properly. I have noticedit myself. It comes of expecting too much, and overdoing it; it is allthe result of what so many people are fond of doing--putting old headson young shoulders."
So the mystery was out. The old heads were unmistakably on youngshoulders. And how very absurd the children looked! Not a bit like happygirls and boys, as they would have been had they possessed their ownheads instead of over-grown and over-developed minds and brains. Oldheads never do look well on young shoulders, and it is very foolish ofpeople to think they do. It makes them children of a larger growthbefore their time, and is just as bad as having young heads on oldshoulders. The moral of which is, that you should never be older thanyou are nor younger than you are not.
"But what are they doing with those bellows?" enquired Willie and Maudetogether.
"Raising the wind," promptly responded the Zankiwank, "or trying to.When folk grow old before their time you will generally find that it isowing to the bother they had in raising the wind to keep the potboiling."
"But you don't keep the pot boiling with wind," they protested.
"Oh yes you do, in Topsy-Turvey Land, though personally I believe it tobe most unright!"
"Un--what?" exclaimed Maude.
"Unright. When a thing is wrong it must be unright. Just the same aswhen a thing is right it is unwrong."
While the Zankiwank was giving this very lucid explanation the "Oldheads on young shoulders" children went sedately and mournfully away,just as a complete train of newspaper carts dashed up to a largeestablishment with these words printed outside--
ATNAGAGDLINTIT RALINGINGINARMIK LUSARUMINASSUMIK.
"Good gracious, what awful looking words! It surely must be Welsh?" Thetwo children put the question to the Zankiwank.
"No, that is not Welsh. That is the way the Esquimaux of Greenlandspeak. It is the name of their paper, and means something to read,interesting news of all sorts. But in this newspaper they never printany news of any sort. They supply the paper to the Topsy-Turveyitesevery morning quite blank, so that you can provide yourself with yourown news. Being perfectly blank, the editors succeed in pleasing alltheir subscribers."
"Well, I do not see any advantage in that."
"There you go again!" cried the Zankiwank. "You always want somethingwith an advantage. What's the use of an advantage, I should like toknow? You can only lose it. You cannot give it away. Do try to beoriginal. But listen, Nobody's coming."
They both looked round wondering what the Zankiwank meant by his strangeperversities, but could not see anyone.
"We can see Nobody," they said.
"Of course. Here he is!"
Well! Was it a shadow? Something was there without a doubt, andcertainly without a body. It was a sort of skeleton, or a ghost, orperhaps a Mahatma! But it was not a Mahatma--it was in fact Nobody, ofwhom you have of course heard.
"At last, at last!" screamed the delighted Zankiwank, "with your eyeswide open and your faculties unimpaired you see NOBODY! And what amemory Nobody has!"
"How can Nobody have a memory? Besides, we can see Nobody!" said Maude,more perplexed than she had ever been.
"Exactly, Nobody has a charming memory. Memory, as you know, is thesense you forget with it!"
"Memory," corrected Willie, "is the sense, if it is a sense, orimpression you remember with."
"Oh, what dreadful Grammar! Remember with! How can you finish a sentencewith a preposition? What do you remember with it?" demanded theZankiwank reprovingly.
"Anything--everything you want to," replied Willie.
"Another preposition! Ah, if we could only remember as easily as weforget!"
"You are wandering from the subject," suggested Maude. "The subject isNobody, and you have told us nothing about it."
"H'm," said the Zankiwank. "You have confessed that you can see Nobody,therefore I will request him to sing you a topical song. Now keep yourattention earnestly directed towards Nobody and listen."
Knowing from past experience that the Zankiwank would have his own way,Maude and Willie, having no one else to think about, thought of Nobody,and to their amazement they heard these words sung as from a long wayoff, in a very hollow tone of voice:--
NOBODY'S NOTHING TO NOBODY.
O Nobody's Nothing to Nobody, And yet he is something too; Though No-body's No-Body it yet is so odd he Always finds nothing to do!
When Nobody does nothing wrong, They say it is the cat; Though Nobody be long and strong And very likely fat. His name is heard from morn till night, He's known in ev'ry place; He do
es the deeds that are unright, Though no one sees his face.
Nobody broke the Dresden vase, Nobody ate the cream; Nobody smashed that pipe of pa's,-- It happened in a dream. Nobody lost Sophia's doll, Nobody fired Jim's gun; Nobody nearly choked poor Poll-- Nobody saw it done!
Nobody cracks the china cups, Nobody steals the spoons; Nobody in the kitchen sups, Or talks of honeymoons! Nobody courts the parlour-maid, She told us so herself! That Nobody, I'm much afraid, Is quite a tricky elf.
For Nobody is any one, That must be very clear; Yet Nobody's a constant dun, Though no one saw him here. As Nobody is ever seen In Anybody's shape, Nobody must be epicene And very like an ape!
For Nobody's Nothing to Nobody, And yet he is something too; Though No-body's No-Body it yet is so odd he Always finds nothing to do!
Just as the song was finished, the Zankiwank cried out in alarm--
"There's Somebody coming."
And Nobody disappeared at once, for the children saw Nobody go!
"And now," said the Zankiwank, "we may expect the Griffin from TempleBar and the Phoenix from Arabia."
A dark shadow enveloped the square in which they were standing; thenthere was a weird perfume of damp fireworks and saltpetre, and beforeany one could say Guy Fawkes, the Phoenix rose from his own funeral pyreof faded frankincense, mildewed myrrh, and similar luxuries, and flappedhis wings vigorously, just as the Griffin jumped off his pedestal, whichhe had brought with him, and piped out--
"Here we are again!"
"Once in a thousand years," responded the Phoenix somewhat hoarsely, forhe had nearly swallowed some of his own ashes.
The Griffin, as everybody knows, is shaped like an eagle from its legsto the shoulder and the head, while the rest of his body is like that ofa lion. The Phoenix is also very much like an intelligent eagle, withgold and crimson plumage and an exceptionally waggish tail. It has theadvantage of fifty orifices in his bill, through which he occasionallysings melodious songs to oblige the company. As he never appears toanyone more than once in five hundred years, sometimes, when he has thetoothache for instance, only once in a thousand years--which is why heis called a rara avis--if you ever meet him at any time take particularnotice of him. And if you can draw, if it is only the long bow, make asketch of him. He lives chiefly on poets--which is why so many refer tohim. He has been a good friend to the poets of all ages, as your cousinWilliam will explain. If you have not got a cousin William, ask some onewho has.
Not having the gift of speech, neither of them spoke, but they couldsing, and this is what they intended to say, duet-wise:--
I am a sacred bird, you know, And I am a Griffin bold; In Arabia the blest We feather our own nest, To keep us from the cold.
And we're so very fabulous-- Oh, that's the Griffin straight! We rise up from the flames, To play old classic games, Like a Phoenix up-to-date!
Then they spread out their wings and executed the most diverting featherdance ever seen out of a pantomime.
I am a watchful bird, you know, And I am a Phoenix smart; From Shakespeare unto Jones-- The Welsh one--who intones, We have played a striking part. For we're so very mystical, Both off-springs of the brain; The Mongoose is our _pere_, And the Nightmare is our _mere_, And we thrive on Fiction Plain!
They repeated their dance and then knocked at the door of the nearesthouse and begged pantomimically for money, but as it was washing daythey were refused. So they went into the cook shop and had some IrishStew, which did not agree with them. Consequently they sprang into thehash that was simmering on the fire, and were seen no more. Whereuponthe Zankiwank looked gooseberrily out of his eyes and murmured as ifnothing out of the way or in the way had happened, or the Phoenix or theGriffin had existed--"The Bletherwitch will send me a telegram to saythat she will be ready for the ceremony in half-an-hour."
"But where is the Bletherwitch, and how do you know?" asked Maude,somewhat incredulously.
"She is being arrayed for the marriage celebration. At present she is inSpain gathering Spanish onions."
"But Spanish onions don't come from Spain!"
"You are right. It is pickled walnuts she is gathering from the BootTree in the scullery. However, that is of no consequence. Let us bejoyful as befits the occasion. Who has got any crackers?"
Before any reply could be given a voice in the air screamedout:--"Beware of the Nargalnannacus!" At which the Zankiwanktrembled and the whole place seemed to rock to and fro.
"What _is_ the Nargalnannacus?"
"It's a noun!"
"How do you mean?"
"A noun is the name of a person, place or thing, I believe?"
"It was yesterday."
"It is to-day. And that is what the Nargalnannacus is. He, She, or It isa person, place or thing, and it travels about, and that is all I knowof it. Nobody has ever seen a Nargalnannacus, and nobody ever will, nota real, proper, authen----"
"Authenticated," assisted Maude.
"Thank you--authenticated one. Directly they do they turn yellow andgreen, and are seen no more."
"What are we to do then?" anxiously enquired Willie.
"The best that offers. We have been expecting an outbreak for a longtime, and here comes the Court Physician, Dr Pampleton, to happilyconfirm my worst suspicions!"
The children thought it extremely odd that having one's worst suspicionsconfirmed should make any person happy. But they were accustomed to theZankiwank's curious modes of speech and lack of logic, so that theywisely held their tongues in silence. The newcomer was of veryremarkable appearance. He was tall and slim like the Zankiwank, butinstead of having the ordinary shaped head and face, he carried on hisshoulders a sheep's head, and in his veins (so they heard afterwards)ran sheep's blood. At one period of his existence he had been well-knownfor his wool-gathering propensities, and he was now strongly recommendedas being able to commit more mistakes and blunders in half-an-hour thana school boy could in a whole school term. He had one great virtue,however, and that was that he would always instantly apologise for anyerror he might make.
He never travelled without his medicine chest, which he carried bystraps over his shoulders, and was prepared to give anybody a dose ofphysic without the slightest provocation at double charges.
"There is danger ahead," he whispered to the Zankiwank, "and a lot ofvisitors are coming to fight to the bitter end."
"Tell me their names," cried the Zankiwank excitedly. Whereupon, DrPampleton recited them as follows, the Zankiwank groaning as eachcognomen was uttered:--
"The Wollypog" (_groan_) "The Fustilug" (_groan_) "What's-His-Name" (_groan_) "Thing'um-a-Bob" (_groan_) and "The Woogabblewabble Bogglewoggle and all his Court."
The last was too much for the Zankiwank, for he immediately climbed tothe top of the tallest steeple in the town, saying with muchdiscretion:--
"I will see that all is fair. I will be the judge."
Maude had only just got time to eat some of the Fern Seeds she had savedfrom what Robin Goodfellow had given her, and to give some to Willie,when a rushing as of many waters and a roaring as of the bursting ofseveral gasometers were heard, and a noise of some two or three hundredtramping soldiers smote upon their ears, and they knew that somethingdreadful was going to happen. As the Bogglewoggle and the Wollypog andall the others came upon the scene, both the children recognised them,from what they had once read in a fairy book, as being the monsters ofthe Secret Cavern.
It was not going to be a battle, as they could see--it was only to be aquiet fight between the important folk of the Secret Cavern and TopsyTurvey Land. The Jorumgander was there, and so was the Jackarandajam andMr Swinglebinks and all the others they had been introduced to. TheBogglewoggle was particularly noisy in calling out for the Zankiwank,but as he was engaged to be married, of course he could not risk hislife just for the mere whim of a dragon, who was setting everythingalight with his torch-like tail.
The Zankiwank crept cautiously down from his pinnacle and joined DrPampleton.
"Our friends are very much cut up," said Dr Pampleton.
"What is to be done?" the Zankiwank enquired.
"Done? Why, with my special elixir I shall bring them all to lifeagain," said the Court Physician promptly.
"Will you? Can you?"
"Of course. You get all the bodies and lay them in a line. I'll gatherup the heads and stick 'em on with elastic glue. Then you find the armsand legs and we will soon have them ready for another bout."
So the Zankiwank sent the rest of the populace, that had been lookingon, indoors to get their tea, while he set to work and did as thatabsurd old Doctor instructed him.
Willie and Maude could scarcely keep their eyes open, but they were sointerested in the proceedings that they managed to see that the CourtPhysician with his usual foresight was sticking the heads on the wrongbodies, and the arms and legs he put on just as they were handed to him,left on the right, and right on the left, and no one individual gothis own proper limbs fastened to him.
It was the funniest thing they had ever seen--better than any pantomime,for sure enough they all came to life again, and naturally, seeinganother person's arms and legs on their bodies, they imagined themselvesto be somebody else entirely. And then ensued the most deafeningconfusion conceivable, each one accusing the other of having robbed himin his sleep, for they were under the impression that they had been tobed in a strange place--and so they had.
It was the grandest transformation scene ever witnessed. The Zankiwankwas in deep distress, but Dr Pampleton was in high glee and laughedimmoderately.
"Such a funny mistake to make!" he crowed hysterically to the hopping,hobbling, jumping crowd of monsters and dwarfs, who were glaring at eachother in a very savage manner.
"I beg your pardon--my fault--all lie down again, and I will cut you uponce more and put you together correctly this time," said the CourtPhysician pleasantly.
"So!" they all bellowed in chorus, "it is you who have done all thismischief. Come on! We will soon rectify your blunder," and with a swishand a swirl they made one simultaneous movement towards the unfortunatePampleton, and once again Pandemonium was let loose, when high above thedin the voice of the Zankiwank was heard calling upon them to havepatience and not to disturb the harmony, as the Bletherwitch had arrivedat last. Meanwhile everybody rushed madly down the street after theCourt Physician.
But the children could see nothing now. Everything was growing dim anddimmer, and the scene was fading, fading away into a blue light. And thelast they heard was the Zankiwank speaking tenderly to the Bletherwitch,whom they were not destined to see after all, and saying:--
"Oh, my sweet Blethery, Blethery Bletherwitch! What a Bletherwitchinglittle thing you are!"
Then there was a rumbling and a tumbling, and something stoppedsuddenly. A light was flashed before their eyes, and hey presto! therewas John opening the carriage door for them to get out, and wonder ofwonders, there were their dear mother and father standing in the hall oftheir own home waiting to receive them. And presently they were beingkissed and caressed and petted because, as Mary their nurse said, theyhad slept in the carriage all the way home from the visit to theirgrandmama.
This, however, they stoutly denied. They knew better than that, and toldtheir parents of all their adventures, which, as they declared, if theywere not true they ought to be, and so they said goodnight and dreamttheir dreams, if they were dreams, all over again.
THE END.
TURNBULL & SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
The Zankiwank and The Bletherwitch: An Original Fantastic Fairy Extravaganza Page 9