TOMMY TAPIR PAYS A VISIT

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of The Lost King of Oz, "The Wizard of Pumperdink," "King, King! Double King!" etc.

Originally published in the Oakland Tribune, June 20, 1915.

 

 

The rainy season had set in, and it was very slow and wet in the jungle. Oliver Elephant had read all the books in the house, even his mother’s cook book and the Jungle calendar, and he and Uncle Abner had played checkers until they had nearly worn the checker board. There was nothing left to do, and Oliver, staring gloomily out the window, wished that he lived any place except the jungle. Suddenly sloshing along the sodden road he caught sight of a familiar figure. “Mother! Mother!” he called excitedly. “Here comes Tommy Tapir!” “Why sure enough it is!” said Mother Elephant, looking over Oliver’s shoulder. “Though what his mother can be thinking of to let him out in this kind of weather I can not imagine.”

Oliver, not bothering his head about this, ran to let Tommy in. And though he had worn a raincoat and his goloshes and carried a tree-mendous umbrella, Tommy was soaked all the way through, so that Mother Elephant had to lend him some of Oliver’s clothes. They were terrible baggy and loose on him, but Tommy said he didn’t care. “I just couldn’t stand it another minute,” he confided to Oliver, “and I thought if I came over here that your Uncle Abner might tell us a story.” “What’s that?” said Uncle Abner Elephant, putting down the paper and pretending to look very ferocious. “Go on, Uncle Abner, tell us a story!” begged Oliver.

“Well,” began Uncle Abner, looking out the window, “this weather surely does remind me of the time that Rob Rabbit came to the jungle. Just such a rainy, gloomy spell as this it was. Shaggy Lion, who was King at that time, was sitting under a tree growling at the weather, while the monkey pages were holding huge palm leaves to keep the rain off him, and all the other animals were sitting around just too bored and wet to even eat. And first thing you know, as they were all sitting there as glum as you please, down the road came an umbrella, even a bigger umbrella than Tommy’s there, wigwagging from side to side, but coming right on. ‘Hullo!’ said Shaggy Lion, sitting up. ‘Wonder what’s under that umbrella?’ He didn’t have to wonder long, though, because by that time the umbrella was right in the midst of them. They heard a funny noise underneath, as if some one were wrestling with himself—and ‘Pshaw’ and ‘Hang it’ and words like that came spluttering out from under the edges. Then all at once the umbrella closed, fell over with a flop, and out scrambled the wettest, skinniest little rabbit you ere did see!

“‘My name’s Robin,’ said he, ‘and I’d like to speak with the King.’ ‘Well,’ drawled Shaggy Lion, licking his chops, ’cause he reckoned he was going to gobble that rabbit up directly, ‘you’re a-lookin’ right at him!’”

“What did the rabbit say before the King ate him up?” gasped Tommy Tapir. Uncle Abner began to chuckle. “Say—why that rabbit just scratched his ear and remarked slow and solemn:

“‘How do I know you are a King?’ And all the other beasts began to grin. Lion was so shocked and surprised he pretty nearly choked. ‘Ca—can’t you see my crown?’ he roared. Rob Rabbit said he could see it all right, but that he’d like to hold it in his hands so that he could see it better. And all the beasts—who thought it a good joke on Shaggy Lion—said: ‘Let him hold it!’ And he did. And Rob Rabbit took the crown and put it on the ground—then he stood in the middle of it and reckoned that if a crown was what made a King—then he was it. Then all the beasts grinned some more at Rob Rabbit. But Rob stepped behind a tree and wriggling his nose, called: ‘How do I know you are King?’ And pretty soon all the other beasts began to look at Shaggy Lion and roar: ‘How do I know you are King?’ And Shaggy Lion began to feel mighty uncomfortable. You see, the rain had made all the beasts cross and crabbed and they were just dying for some kind of excitement, and that little rabbit stood behind the tree and sicked ’em on, and the first thing you know the whole lot of them were snarling and clawing at each other and rolling around in the mud. And when Shaggy Lion managed to untangle himself from the bunch, and, with his coat all ripped, started to run away, Rob Rabbit leaned away out and called: ‘Catch him! Catch him! How do you know he is King?’ And all of those crazy beasts went crashing and splashing through the pouring rain after Shaggy Lion—and while they were gone Rob Rabbit came out and took the crown and all the other things that he wanted (the animals had left all their belongings where they’d been sitting), and he tied them all up in Shaggy Lion’s purple robes, put up his big umbrella and went off back where he had come from. And what do you think of that?” finished Uncle Abner. But just then the lunch bell rang—and as you and I are not invited I can not tell you what Oliver and Tommy thought of the story. What do you think of it?

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, September 8, 1918

School Opens in Supposyville

Oh! not with frowns or solemn looks
Do ’Sposy children get their books.
Oh! not with groans or lagging feet
Do they go down each lane and street!

The opening day of school—well, I
Should just guess not—there’s not a sigh.
Indeed they come all out of puff;
They just can’t get there fast enough.

For in their quaint Supposy way
They turn it to a festive day.
Now we do things just upside down
In this old systematic town.

We have our concert at the close
Of school—’tis well enough I ’spose;
But seems to me ’twould put more heart
In things to have it at the start!

The way they do in S’posyville
And sort o’ sugar-coat the pill.
The King and Queen and half the court
Are there to help along the sport.

Heigh-ho! they start school here with fiddles,
Old-fashioned jigs and games and riddles,
Virginia reels and merry peals
Of laughter till each scholar feels

So welcome and so warm inside
He couldn’t be gloomy if he tried.
Once folks have laughed together they
Are friends for always and a day!

And then, to make things still more pleasant,
The King gives every one a present;
And makes a jolly little speech
And hands new copy books to each.

New copy books and pencils four,
Rules and rubbers, pens galore.
The Queen distributes bags and straps,
Brand-new raincoats, boots and caps!

And afterward comes ice cream pink
And little cakes and pies, I think.
Then home the lads and lassies trot,
Just captivated on the spot,

Resolved to study hard and do
Just what the teacher wants them to.
And I think ’twould be nice for us
To do the same and not to fuss.

’Cause if we want to grow up right,
We must do lessons every night
And learn a lot of useful things
Concerning figures, books and kings!

Copyright © 2024 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

A "ONCE UPON A TIME" STORY

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of Speedy in Oz, "The Wizard of Pumperdink," "King, King! Double King!" etc.

Originally published in the Springfield Union, March 12, 1916, and the Philadelphia Public Ledger, March 19, 1916.

Listen! girls and boys, to a story—a story of Time. In a certain town there once lived a little boy named Junior. On this certain day of our story all the other little boys, with their hair parted very straight, and scores of new pencils and—marbles, and all the little girls, with fearfully clean frocks and lovely bows, with shiny new pencil boxes and brand new copy books, had disappeared into the big red building. It was the first day of school, and Junior was late. He felt pretty bad, so bad, in fact, that he decided not to go to school Sh!—don’t tell! He stood kicking his boot in the dust and wondering what in the world had become of the 15 minutes he had started out with. A gay young breeze happened along just then, and seeing a little boy out of school, called: “Hello, there! You seem to have fallen behind time.”

“I didn’t fall,” said Junior reflectively.

“Dear me!” said the breeze, with a sly wink at the Sun, “perhaps you met Pleasure, then; he is a great one for running off with the minutes.”

“I didn’t meet Pleasure,” said Junior, “but I did meet the loveliest yellow butterfly, and I chased him ever so far.”

“That was Pleasure,” said the breeze, with a chuckle; “now, I wonder whether Curiosity crossed your path this morning.”

“Well,” said Junior, “just as I reached the big elm the fire bells rang; wasn’t much of a fire, though,” he finished abruptly.

“Whee!” said the breeze, with a gusty laugh that sent the leaves skipping down the road; “you need a timekeeper,” and off he rushed, leaving Junior more perplexed than ever.

“Well,” said a voice suddenly, “if you are going to overtake Time, you had better start off; if people looked at me oftener they wouldn’t lose time so often.”

“Are you a timekeeper?” asked Junior squinting up sideways at the Sun.

“The very first, and all of the timekeepers are imitations of me, mere imitations, my dear Junior,” replied the Sun, with a smile that brought the tears to Junior’s eyes. Indeed, he had to look away, and when he looked up again the Sun had hidden himself behind a cloud. So he walked very thoughtfully down the road and soon came up with an old man.

“Have you seen anything of Time?” he asked politely.

“Time!” growled the old man, and pulling out a fat gold watch opened it with a snap; “just half-past nine,” he said.

“But where is Time?” questioned Junior.

“Here, on the face of the watch,” answered the old man irritably.

“Give it to me! Give it to me!” cried Junior, in the greatest excitement.

“Give it to you!” shrieked the old man; “a gold watch to a child! What is he talking about?”

“Much you know!” cried the Sun, coming suddenly from behind the clouds.

Junior looked up—but, what a strange thing had happened! He rubbed his eyes and looked again, and there, instead of the Sun, a great round, jolly watch, with both hands outstretched, rode proudly in the sky. Before Junior had time to think, it began to descend, growing larger and larger, and finally eclipsing everything in sight, came to a stop beside Junior. He climbed hastily up the slippery side (wouldn’t you have?) and stood looking round, till he was suddenly knocked off his feet and seated forcibly upon the hour hand.

“This is like a merry-go-round,” said Junior.

“Not quite so fast,” said the Hour Hand, to Junior’s surprise, and “Low bridge!” it called, as the minute hand came whirling past. All round the edges of this great watch were stationed men-at-arms. They stood straight and tall and strictly at attention. “The Minute Men,” explained the Hour Hand, “and when next you hear the tick of a watch you will know ’tis the Minute Men marking time.” I tell you, they were handsome fellows!

The hour hand now began to revolve slowly and they had soon come to a tall man with a very thin body, and his head was set down beside it instead of atop it. He was very stern.

“Ten o’clock and still school time,” said the Hour Hand, and as far as Junior could see beyond 10 o’clock were hundreds and hundreds of little girls and boys sitting at desks and studying out of huge books. Some of the desks were empty, and when Junior asked the Hour Hand why this was, he answered, “Those are the desks of the boys and girls who are late.”

“Oh!” said Junior and grew very thoughtful, for he had just spied his own vacant desk.

They seemed to be going quite slowly, and the voices of the girls and boys reciting their lessons made him drowsy. Fearing that Junior would fall asleep and tumble off, the Hour Hand began to talk. “Did the sun tell you about Time’s relations?” he asked.

“No,” said Junior sitting up with a start, “has Time any relations?”

“Certainly,” said the Hour Hand, but here they passed another queer person who was chiefly remarkable for the length of his legs and the absence of his head. “Eleven o’clock and still school time,” said the Hour Hand.

As far as Junior could see beyond eleven o’clock were girls and boys still busily studying. “Tell me about Time’s relations,” he said, looking uneasily at a cross teacher whom they were passing.

“Well,” said the Hour Hand, “Time, like most of the rest of us, has poor relations, and you want to look out for them, too. There’s No-Time and Some-Time and Any-Time, for instance; they are always trying to convince folks that they are the Right Time. But if you have anything to do, remember that No-Time is an excuse; that Some-Time will never come and Any-Time will never do.”

Here Junior was startled by a great ringing of bells, followed by shouting and hundreds of laughing voices. They were now directly opposite a jolly person with one long leg and one short leg and a small pleasant face. “Twelve o’clock,” called the Hour Hand, and now out of all the schools children by scores came hurrying. Some skipped rope, some played ball, some played marbles. It was all so very pleasant that Junior forgot to dodge the Minute Hand, which rapped him smartly on the head, and it seemed scarcely believable when they came to a tall and hungry-looking person that he could be One o’Clock and Dinner-Time. Didn’t those dinners smell good! My! Poor Junior riding by on the Hour Hand, was forced to look upon all the little girls and boys in the country eating the bestest dinners. Jams and jellies, and pies and chops, and chicken, sometimes.

How quickly they seemed to be traveling now. Just as he was thinking seriously of slipping off and hunting his own dinner, a short, fiery, little man with a great head bobbed up in their path. “Two o’clock and school time again,” said the Hour Hand, and beyond two o’clock all of the girls and boys were busily studying. One class they passed were having a lesson on time.

“Who was the first timekeeper?” asked the teacher. No one knew.

“The Sun, the Sun!” called Junior in the greatest excitement, but no one paid the slightest attention to him.

Slowly but surely, he was carried past the busy children, and it was not long before they had come to another queer person whom Time hailed as Three O’Clock.

The Hour Hand, as he slowly made his way past the children bending over their books, told Junior much of Time—how very, very old he was, and what a great traveler, how he sometimes flies on the wings of the wind with a gay little sprite called Joy, but how oftener he trudges slowly along with a person whose name is Sorrow. So it seemed not long before they were upon a most triangular body whom you have already guessed was Four O’Clock and Playtime. Now everything became very exciting. The children came hurrying out of school. There were ball games so engrossing that Junior nearly lost his balance. There were merry races. There was fun in every form. Oh! there’s nothing so jolly as Playtime!

The Hour Hand seemed to be traveling now with the swiftness of an express train, and all too soon for Junior they came to a pleasant-faced person of rather remarkable figure. “This,” said the Hour Hand softly, is “Five O’Clock and Story Time.” The children hurried homeward, his old friend the Sun rested on the top of a green hill. Now he gave a dreadful yawn, and pulling a great pink blanket cloud over his head went fast asleep, leaving the world to the pleasant dusk.

“Look,” said the Hour Hand, and out of the dusk Junior saw the story folks coming. Princesses with gleaming hair and Knights in shining armor, and robbers and giants and elves and fairies. They gathered round the children, and together they visited the most wonderful countries.

So busy was Junior watching these delightful folks that he was almost sorry to see a stout little man whom the Hour Hand called Six O’Clock and Suppertime. All the lights were lighted; the story folk fled; the girls and boys gathered round the cheerful supper tables and told about the things at school. Junior grew very hungry and very lonely.

After they had passed supper time the Hour Hand again began to hurry, and they were soon under the very nose of a most dour old fellow. “Seven O’Clock and Lesson Time,” whispered the Hour Hand. Junior thought him most disagreeable.

Now all the girls and boys were nodding over their books and Junior’s eyes grew heavier and heavier. Just as he thought that he must surely fall off with weariness they came to a very fat and sleepy man who yawned widely as they passed. “Eight O’Clock and Bedtime!” droned the Hour Hand, and as far as Junior could see beyond Eight O’Clock were boys and girls cozily tucked in little white beds. All the lights went out and the moon and stars shone over the housetops. Then the mothers came and sat by the bedsides, for it was prayer-time. As Junior looked he saw his own little bed and, slipping quietly from the Hour Hand, he dropped light among its soft pillows and was soon being tucked in by his own dear mother, just as if he had not been to the strangest place in the world.

 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, September 1, 1918

A Prescription Against Growing-Upness

The old King, looking sober-like,
Upon one August day
To Solomon Tremendous Wise
Once took his royal way.

Sir Solomon was testing out
Some curious invention,
And ’twas some time before the King
Could get his sage attention.

At last he pushed his specses back
And slowly glanced around.
“Upon my word, Your Majesty!
Well, I’ll be tied and bound!

“How long have you been waiting here?
Now have a chair—take two—
And tell me straight at once—right off—
What service I may do!”

The King sat down quite heavily,
Two tears rolled down his cheeks;
His royal voice was all choked up,
And sadly now he speaks:

“Old friend, I’m ’fraid an awful thing
Is going to happen. Say!
Do you, sir, realize that we
Grow older every day?

“Yes, sir; I’m worried, Solomon.
There’s just one dreadful thing
Might happen to the whole of us—
Yes, even to your King!”

Old Solomon set down his rules,
Set down his testing cup.
“What is it?” “Oh,” the poor King wailed,
“You know—we might grow up!”

“I don’t mind growing older, but
To grow up—Oh, my stars!
How dull, how simply awful
In a kingdom run like ours!”

“Upon my head and heart and heels,
Well I should think and say—”
Quoth Solomon, “I’ll look into
This matter right away!”

The King with thoughtful shake of head
Goes off; the wise man takes
With troubled frown a big book down
And sundry entries makes!

Then, chuckling, runs at top speed to
The palace. “Do no fear
That growing-upness,” laughed the sage,
“For this prescription here

“Will make it plumb impossible
No matter, sire, how old
One grows, just so one doesn’t let
The heart get stiff and cold!

“Just so he keeps his laughing muscles
Well in use and plastic,
And exercises so his heart
Is sure to keep elastic.

“And I prescribe three games a day,
A circus once a year,
With forty picnics scattered through
For everybody here.

“Five miles a day, a lot of sun,
With singing in between,
And none of us will be a bit
Heart-older than sixteen!”

Copyright © 2024 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.