THE WITCHES' WELL

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

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 25, 1914.

(For All the Boys and Girls Who Wanted a Witch Story.)


There was once a Prince who, having been treacherously cheated out of his inheritance by his two older brothers, set out to make his fortune in a strange country. But he was in no wise cast down for he had the merriest heart in the world as well as the kindliest, and was the possessor of a silver flute, upon which he could play with marvelous skill.

One night his travels brought him to the edge of a dense forest. Fearing that if he lay down to rest he would be devoured by wild beasts, he determined to push on. He had not gone far before he saw a red light gleaming though the trees.

At every step the way grew more dense and tangled, but the light grew steadily brighter, and at last, parting the thick foliage, the Prince looked out upon a small clearing. "Trees and steeple-tops," cried he, falling back against a tree. No wonder!

In the centre of the clearing, chained by her nose to a dark well, crouched a witch. Oh, an awful witch - a terrible witch - a hideous witch - an awful, terrible, hideous witch! Her eyes were red, and big as dinner plates, indeed it was their light that cast the red glow over the forest. Her teeth were long as elephant's tusks, while her hair writhed out from beneath her peaked hat like mass of snakes. The Prince wiped the cold perspiration from his brow and stood watching from behind his tree.

Soon a whole company of wild beasts came slinking down to the well. They rumbled and roared threateningly until the witch had drawn them each a bucket of water, then they went slinking off again. Next a horde of goblins sprang into the clearing. Moaning and groaning, the red-eyed witch drew them bucket after bucket of water. The little imps pulled her hair, screamed in her ear and played every other sort of mischievous prank that goblins can play. Chained by her nose to the well, the witch was at their mercy.

"This won't do!" said the kind-hearted Prince, for he could not stand seeing even a red-eyed witch suffer. Seizing his flute he played the merriest tune that he knew. Straightway the goblins ceased their pranks. They hopped and skipped, and whirled and twirled and bounded about in the maddest, merriest goblin dance, not even stopping to see where the music came from. Playing gayly the Prince led them deep into the forest. Faster and faster played the flute - faster and faster whirled the little imps till at length they fell exhausted to the ground.

Then the Prince returned to the witch's well. "Good evening, madam," said he, sweeping off his hat. The witch's eyes grew big as meat platters and her tusks rattled like twenty drums, but the Prince neither shuddered nor stepped back. Seeing that she could neither make him shudder nor run, the witch spoke, "You are a brave lad! You have a kind heart. You are the only human being who has not run from me. Therefore I will grant you a wish. Come! Make a wish. Anything that your heart desires." The Prince sat down upon the edge of the well to wish and the witch sat on the edge of the well to wait, and there they sat and sat and sat! For as the merry-hearted Prince never thought of himself at all, he found making a wish the hardest thing in the world.

Then all at once he looked at the witch. "What a terrible misfortune to be so horribly ugly - !" Up sprang the Prince, "I wish that you were no longer a witch!" Scarcely had he spoken before there was a rumbling as of a hundred thunderstorms rolled into one. Everything grew dark. When it grew light again the Prince was standing before a beautiful palace. Down its golden steps swept the most beautiful Princess you can imagine. "Ah," cried she, "The spell is broken! Because I refused to marry him, I was changed by Crumblesticken, a wicked magician, to the horrible witch that you saw in the forest. There I was condemned to draw water for the wild beasts and goblins till someone, without fear, and of his own free will would do me a kindness."

It only remains to say that they were married upon the spot with great splendor and magnificence and lived happily ever afterward.

THE FORGETFUL POET

By Ruth Plumly Thompson

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, November 25, 1917

Riddles in Rhyme for Thanksgiving Time

A month and an ingredient
In bread will give a ship
In whom our sturdy ancestors
First made the ocean trip!

A form of medicine, a word
That means stern and severe,
Will give, well, now what will it give,
Just tell me that, my dear?

His first name's a measure for distance,
And once you have that you will know
The whole, for he's truly thrice famous
A hot tempered man he was, though!

"When the frost is on the pumpkin
We ourselves must pilgrims be,
Amid the storm they sang,
And the stars heard and the sea."

That seems to me a remarkable poem; what do you make of it?

Last week's answers were: Rumania and Serbia. If an oak had an elderly relation it would certainly be Antioch--in Syria.

[Answers next time]
 

Copyright © 2005 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE DESCENT OF MANN

By Louis F. Baum
Author of The Visitors from Oz, The Wogglebug Book, The Flying Girl, etc.

The original publication of this poem is unknown. Baum's use of the psuedonym "Louis F. Baum" (his name was Lyman Frank Baum) indicates that the poem dates from about the 1880s. Possibly it was published in the Aberdeen [South Dakota] Saturday Pioneer while Baum was the editor of that newspaper. However, if the poem's subject, Mr. Mann, refers to the composer Nathaniel D. Mann, who wrote some music for the 1903 Broadway production of The Wizard of Oz and collaborated with Baum on at least one other unproduced musical, that could indicate the poem could be dated as late as 1902 or even later, though that seems unlikely.

Mr. Mann was fat and jolly;
So he never thought it folly
When he rose and said, "By golly,
I've a notion what I'll do!"
"I'll go down and be a skater,
Quite a slick perambulator
On the rink I'll be, and cater
To the reigning fashion, too."

So unto the rink he rambled,
With the crowd for skates he scrambled,
Put them on, and slightly trembled
As he eyed the floor askance;
First a roll - and then a tumble!
Then ejaculations mumble -
Just as though a man should grumble
When he falls upon his pants!

Then, with a face as red and beaming
As a beacon - wisely deeming
'Twas regarded quite unseeming
To be sitting on the floor
Up he sprang, quite acrobatic,
And with feeling not ecstatic
Threw his toes up toward the attic -
And was seated as before.

"Now, by gum!" he said in wonder,
"How in Geddes - how in thunder
Shall I 'scape from this vile blunder
And regain my dignity!
See the girls all madly laughing!
How the fellows will be chaffing,
And at my expense by quaffing
Ten-cent drinks in heartless glee."

At the thought, up sprang he boldly,
And a yard quite neatly rolled he,
Then a crash! And he lay coldly,
Silently upon the floor.
Carefully they raised his mangled
Form, and from his throat untangled
Half a skate before he strangled -
Then away his form they bore.

* * * * *

Now our friend has an affair
Like a cushion filled with air,
Which he places on a chair,
And its softness eases pain.
But no more he's fat and jolly,
For his mind is melancholy
Ruminating on his folly
And he'll never skate again.

THE FORGETFUL POET

By Ruth Plumly Thompson

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, November 18, 1917.

Riddles

As usual, any number of you answered the forgetful poet's riddles, so this time Mr. G. Ography, who has just returned from the war zone, has made you some which he is quite sure will be several huckleberries above your persimmon, whatever that means.

? ? ? ? ?

A word--to regret,
And a State plus two letters.
The ninth and the first
Feels the War Lord's iron fetters?

Ending the same,
Starting off with a word
Who's meaning is to wait,
Is a country--and a third.

If an oak tree had an elderly relation it would probably be a certain city in Syria?

Last week's answers were: A train is worn by a Queen and carried by a Page. Daniel Boone, Lewis Carrol and Sir Francis Drake.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2005 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE STORY OF CINDERELLA AS IT IS TOLD IN CHINA

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

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, December 20, 1914.


In that country of lanterns and firecrackers, where little pigtailed boys and girls play at shuttlecock and kite flying from sun-up till sun-down, there once lived a mighty pigtailed Prince named Ti-fa. Like most mighty Princes, he was very fond of hunting, and one day as he and his silk-coated friends were riding in the craggy heights of the mountains near his father;s palace they came upon a wonderful fountain. It gushed from the heart of the rock and hurled its sparkling waters high in the air, then splintered them into a thousand diamond drops below. It was not alone the beauty of the fountain that caused Ti-fa to spur his horse forward. In its waters sported a company of graceful maidens. Oh, they were beautiful! But as the royal hunting party came up they fled in terror to the woods.

The Prince was greatly vexed, and, as is the custom of august Majesties when they are in a temper, began to scold and abuse his poor friends and ministers. They kowtowed and waved their arms about in great agitation, but one or more would certainly have lost his head, or his pigtail, at least, if something had not happened at that minute. A great eagle rose from the spot where the maidens had disappeared, and with a glittering parcel in his beak soared up, up and out of sight. The Prince hurried to the place, and there on the ground lay a tiny shoe. Oh, you never could believe how tiny it was, nor how studded with gems its silken tininess! He seized the dainty thing with a cry of joy and thrust it beneath his silk coat. On the way back to the palace he could think of naught else but the owner of the miniature boot. Who was she? Rich, surely, to possess so fine a shoe! Beautiful, certainly, to match so small a foot!

Hardly had the royal party reached the palace and hardly had the Prince seated himself upon the throne when the same eagle they had seen in the woods swept into the palace and, drooping low on his golden wings, dropped the mate of the little shoe into Ti-fa's lap. Now there was excitement I can tell you! It was very clear that all those fierce and strange creatures whom the Chinese call Gods had decreed that the lady of the silken shoes should wed Ti-fa. A proclamation was issued forthwith commanding her to appear in court on penalty of death.

Now, all the other ladies in the kingdom, dearly as they would have liked to try on the silken shoes, dared not venture in court, for if the shoes failed to go on 'twould be "Off with her head!" and who cared to risk that, pray! So it happened that Candida, the real owner of the dainty shoes, appeared as commanded, because she dared not do otherwise. The courtroom blazed with splendor and light as the little lady of the silken shoes entered. There was a gasp of wonder, then a vigorous wagging of pigtailed heads. The beauty of the little Chinese lady was so dazzling, so glorious, that in her radiant presence all else seemed mean and poor. Ti-fa led her to his own great throne and, kneeling, slipped on her dainty feet the tiny embroidered shoes. Then amid general rejoicing he declared her to be his wife. Flags and pennants flew from the turrets, lanterns blazed from the palace gardens, a weird and wonderful banquet was served in the ballroom, a banquet, girls and boys, to which I am glad we were not bidden. There were dried and salted earth worms, pigeon eggs and shark fins, pounded shrimps and dear only knows what else. However, these viands had no ill effects upon the beautiful Candida and her royal husband, and, as you have probably guessed, they lived happily ever after.

THE FORGETFUL POET

By Ruth Plumly Thompson

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, November 11, 1917

A Handful of Riddles

The Forgetful Poet was amazed when I showed him the pile of correct answers to his rhyming riddles. "Never saw anything like it!" he murmured, ruffling his hair. And neither did I. If you persist in guessing all of our riddles--why, as a punishment we shall demand that you make some yourselves.

The correct answers to last week's riddles are--swallows, a nut kernel which is inclosed in a shell, a knight, a bay horse and an oxheart cherry.

Tell me now: What vehicle is worn by a queen and carried by part of a book? and what garden implement is found in a fall fruit? And--

What other word for favor
Will name a pioneer--
While what we sing at Christmas time
Will give an author dear?

A nautical bird, too,
Will give you as plain
As can be a great Englishman
Not loved by Spain?

[Answers next time]

Copyright © 2005 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

A HIGHLY MAGNIFIED HISTORY

By L. Frank Baum
Author of The Visitors from Oz, The Wogglebug Book, The Flying Girl, etc.

An excerpt from The Marvelous Land of Oz, 1904, presented here to celebrate the publication of The Visitors from Oz by L. Frank Baum.

"It is but honest that I should acknowledge at the beginning of my recital that I was born an ordinary Woggle-Bug," began the creature, in a frank and friendly tone. "Knowing no better, I used my arms as well as my legs for walking, and crawled under the edges of stones or hid among the roots of grasses with no thought beyond finding a few insects smaller than myself to feed upon.

"The chill nights rendered me stiff and motionless, for I wore no clothing, but each morning the warm rays of the sun gave me new life and restored me to activity. A horrible existence is this, but you must remember it is the regular ordained existence of Woggle-Bugs, as well as of many other tiny creatures that inhabit the earth.

"But Destiny had singled me out, humble though I was, for a grander fate! One day I crawled near to a country school house, and my curiosity being excited by the monotonous hum of the students within, I made bold to enter and creep along a crack between two boards until I reached the far end, where, in front of a hearth of glowing embers, sat the master at his desk.

"No one noticed so small a creature as a Woggle-Bug, and when I found that the hearth was even warmer and more comfortable than the sunshine, I resolved to establish my future home beside it. So I found a charming nest between two bricks and hid myself therein for many, many months.

"Professor Nowitall is, doubtless, the most famous scholar in the land of Oz, and after a few days I began to listen to the lectures and discourses he gave his pupils. Not one of them was more attentive than the humble, unnoticed Woggle-Bug, and I acquired in this way a fund of knowledge that I will myself confess is simply marvelous. That is why I place 'T.E.' Thoroughly Educated upon my cards; for my greatest pride lies in the fact that the world cannot produce another Woggle-Bug with a tenth part of my own culture and erudition."

"I do not blame you," said the Scarecrow. "Education is a thing to be proud of. I'm educated myself. The mess of brains given me by the Great Wizard is considered by my friends to be unexcelled."

"Nevertheless," interrupted the Tin Woodman, "a good heart is, I believe, much more desirable than education or brains."

"To me," said the Saw-Horse, "a good leg is more desirable than either."

"Could seeds be considered in the light of brains?" enquired the Pumpkinhead, abruptly.

"Keep quiet!" commanded Tip, sternly.

"Very well, dear father," answered the obedient Jack.

The Woggle-Bug listened patiently -- even respectfully -- to these remarks, and then resumed his story.

"I must have lived fully three years in that secluded school-house hearth," said he, "drinking thirstily of the ever-flowing fount of limpid knowledge before me."

"Quite poetical," commented the Scarecrow, nodding his head approvingly.

"But one, day" continued the Bug, "a marvelous circumstance occurred that altered my very existence and brought me to my present pinnacle of greatness. The Professor discovered me in the act of crawling across the hearth, and before I could escape he had caught me between his thumb and forefinger.

"'My dear children,' said he, 'I have captured a Woggle-Bug -- a very rare and interesting specimen. Do any of you know what a Woggle-Bug is?'

"'No!' yelled the scholars, in chorus.

"'Then,' said the Professor, 'I will get out my famous magnifying-glass and throw the insect upon a screen in a highly-magnified condition, that you may all study carefully its peculiar construction and become acquainted with its *** Suspicious paragraph end: habits and manner of life.' habits and manner of life.'

"He then brought from a cupboard a most curious instrument, and before I could realize what had happened I found myself thrown upon a screen in a highly-magnified state -- even as you now behold me.

"The students stood up on their stools and craned their heads forward to get a better view of me, and two little girls jumped upon the sill of an open window where they could see more plainly.

"'Behold!' cried the Professor, in a loud voice, 'this highly-magnified Woggle-Bug; one of the most curious insects in existence!'

"Being Thoroughly Educated, and knowing what is required of a cultured gentleman, at this juncture I stood upright and, placing my hand upon my bosom, made a very polite bow. My action, being unexpected, must have startled them, for one of the little girls perched upon the window-sill gave a scream and fell backward out the window, drawing her companion with her as she disappeared.

"The Professor uttered a cry of horror and rushed away through the door to see if the poor children were injured by the fall. The scholars followed after him in a wild mob, and I was left alone in the school-room, still in a Highly-Magnified state and free to do as I pleased.

"It immediately occurred to me that this was a good opportunity to escape. I was proud of my great size, and realized that now I could safely travel anywhere in the world, while my superior culture would make me a fit associate for the most learned person I might chance to meet.

"So, while the Professor picked the little girls -- who were more frightened than hurt -- off the ground, and the pupils clustered around him closely grouped, I calmly walked out of the school-house, turned a corner, and escaped unnoticed to a grove of trees that stood near"

"Wonderful!" exclaimed the Pumpkinhead, admiringly.

"It was, indeed," agreed the Woggle-Bug. "I have never ceased to congratulate myself for escaping while I was Highly Magnified; for even my excessive knowledge would have proved of little use to me had I remained a tiny, insignificant insect."

"I didn't know before," said Tip, looking at the Woggle-Bug with a puzzled expression, "that insects wore clothes."

"Nor do they, in their natural state," returned the stranger. "But in the course of my wanderings I had the good fortune to save the ninth life of a tailor -- tailors having, like cats, nine lives, as you probably know. The fellow was exceedingly grateful, for had he lost that ninth life it would have been the end of him; so he begged permission to furnish me with the stylish costume I now wear. It fits very nicely, does it not?" and the Woggle-Bug stood up and turned himself around slowly, that all might examine his person.

"He must have been a good tailor," said the Scarecrow, somewhat enviously.

"He was a good-hearted tailor, at any rate," observed Nick Chopper.

"But where were you going, when you met us?" Tip asked the Woggle-Bug.

"Nowhere in particular," was the reply, "although it is my intention soon to visit the Emerald City and arrange to give a course of lectures to select audiences on the 'Advantages of Magnification.'"

"We are bound for the Emerald City now," said the Tin Woodman; "so, if it pleases you to do so, you are welcome to travel in our company."

The Woggle-Bug bowed with profound grace.

"It will give me great pleasure," said he "to accept your kind invitation; for nowhere in the Land of Oz could I hope to meet with so congenial a company."

"That is true," acknowledged the Pumpkinhead. "We are quite as congenial as flies and honey."

"But -- pardon me if I seem inquisitive -- are you not all rather -- ahem! rather unusual?" asked the Woggle-Bug, looking from one to another with unconcealed interest.

"Not more so than yourself," answered the Scarecrow. "Everything in life is unusual until you get accustomed to it."

"What rare philosophy!" exclaimed the Woggle-Bug, admiringly.

"Yes; my brains are working well today," admitted the Scarecrow, an accent of pride in his voice.

"Then, if you are sufficiently rested and refreshed, let us bend our steps toward the Emerald City," suggested the magnified one.

"We can't," said Tip. "The Saw-Horse has broken a leg, so he can't bend his steps. And there is no wood around to make him a new limb from. And we can't leave the horse behind because the Pumpkinhead is so stiff in his Joints that he has to ride."

"How very unfortunate!" cried the Woggle-Bug. Then he looked the party over carefully and said:

"If the Pumpkinhead is to ride, why not use one of his legs to make a leg for the horse that carries him? I judge that both are made of wood."

"Now, that is what I call real cleverness," said the Scarecrow, approvingly. "I wonder my brains did not think of that long ago! Get to work, my dear Nick, and fit the Pumpkinhead's leg to the Saw-Horse."

Jack was not especially pleased with this idea; but he submitted to having his left leg amputated by the Tin Woodman and whittled down to fit the left leg of the Saw-Horse. Nor was the Saw-Horse especially pleased with the operation, either; for he growled a good deal about being "butchered," as he called it, and afterward declared that the new leg was a disgrace to a respectable Saw-Horse.

"I beg you to be more careful in your speech," said the Pumpkinhead, sharply. "Remember, if you please, that it is my leg you are abusing."

"I cannot forget it," retorted the Saw-Horse, "for it is quite as flimsy as the rest of your person."

"Flimsy! me flimsy!" cried Jack, in a rage. "How dare you call me flimsy?"

"Because you are built as absurdly as a jumping-jack," sneered the horse, rolling his knotty eyes in a vicious manner. "Even your head won't stay straight, and you never can tell whether you are looking backwards or forwards!"

"Friends, I entreat you not to quarrel!" pleaded the Tin Woodman, anxiously." As a matter of fact, we are none of us above criticism; so let us bear with each others' faults."

"An excellent suggestion," said the Woggle-Bug, approvingly. "You must have an excellent heart, my metallic friend."

"I have," returned Nick, well pleased. "My heart is quite the best part of me. But now let us start upon our Journey.

They perched the one-legged Pumpkinhead upon the Saw-Horse, and tied him to his seat with cords, so that he could not possibly fall off.

And then, following the lead of the Scarecrow, they all advanced in the direction of the Emerald City.

THE FORGETFUL POET

By Ruth Plumly Thompson

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, November 4, 1917.

A Few Rhyming Riddles

The Forgetful Poet stepped in this morning with a new batch of riddles. He had left out quite a few of the words, but after filling them in, I agreed to publish them, as he said he needed a hew hat. I should say they were worth that much, anyway; what do you say?

When eating what
Birds come into play?
What's inclosed in something
Used in the fray

And named like an officer?
Can you say
What olden time hero
Is part of a day?

What creature is a body of water?
What brute,
Plus an organ, will equal
An early spring fruit?

Last week's riddles answers were: An after-dinner speaker is like a nut cracker, because he is always cracking chestnuts. In the verses a football, an appendix, leave (what we all at some time take) and batter (athlete) were concealed.

Copyright © 2005 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE ENCHANTED PUMPKIN

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

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 19, 1919.

Heighho! In the kingdom of Kerry, my ducks,
As the clock in the courtyard struck eight
It happened, as sure as my best boots are buckled,
A pumpkin pie burst from its plate!

But, pshaw! Let me tell it aright. All the court
And the king had been dining, the feast
Had progressed to the pie, a huge pumpkin one. I
Might remark though 'twas last 'twas not least.

The king and the queen soon disposed of their slices
But half a pie stood on the plate.
And as each one remarked to his neighbor, "How nice is
This pie," Why - the court clock struck eight.

Then up sprang the half pie! Next thing a half coach
Crashed around among dishes and spoons!
The king drew his sword, and the court ladies fell
In a series of suitable swoons.

A wise man was summoned, a doctor as well,
The distress of the company increases,
Oh, dear! They had eaten a half of a coach
And were full of uncomfortable pieces!

That pumpkin, sweethearts, had grown up from a seed
Of a fairy tale pumpkin, the same
Cinderella had gone to the ball in, it turned
Every night to a coach. What a shame!

Unawares they had eaten of cushions and wood,
Gilded curtains, springs, lap robe and spoke,
They groaned with dismay and, I really must say,
It was rather a dolorous joke.

But just at the worst, pshaw, the court clock struck twelve
And the pumpkin coach turned back to pie,
The half that was eaten and that on the plate,
But wasn't it comical? My!

THE FORGETFUL POET

By Ruth Plumly Thompson

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 28, 1917

Riddles

My, what sharp guessers you are! Why, there were hundreds of correct answers to the riddle verses. In their proper order they are: Butter, jam, bridge, ball, palms and nails. China is the Flowery Kingdom and England the Tight Little Island.

Tell me now, why is a nutcracker like an after-dinner speaker?

And what do you find here:

A part of the body,
And part of that part,
Is a game which is just
About ready to start!

A part of a book
Often causes us pain,
And no end of distress
To our doctor's sure gain.

A part of a tree
We must sometimes e'en take
And an athlete is surely
Concealed in each cake!

Copyright © 2005 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

TO MACATAWA

Rhapsody by L. Frank Baum
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Woggle-Bug Book, The Boy Fortune Hunters in the South Seas, etc.

Originally published September 1, 1907.

[L. Frank Baum, after his earliest successes as an author, spent several summers with his wife Maud and their four sons in their cottage at the Lake Michigan resort of Macatawa not far from Holland, Michigan.]

WRITTEN FOR THE [Grand Rapids, Michigan, Sunday] HERALD.

Fair Macatawa, let me fling
My praises in thy face, and sing
A tribute so deserved, mayhap
All men to nestle in thy lap
Will long, and be inspired with zest
To rest their heads upon thy breast!

This may be metaphoric, yet
The nestle and the rest you bet
Your badge belong no place but here -
And here you'll find them, never fear.
I beg to ask where else you'll find
A summer haven that's designed
So perfectly to charm mankind
And tone the liver, heart and mind?
Where else is every nerve relaxed
And every lung-cell overtaxed
To breathe the ozone laden breeze
That gives you sleep whene'er you please?
Where else do jaunty villas peep
From leafy bowers across the deep
Expense of Michigan, who soaks
With crystal tears the bathing-folks?
Where else does fickle appetite
Aspire to reach a dizzy height
In order that it may deplete
Your purse to feed it stuff to eat?
Where else in all the world's expanse
Do sunsets get so good a chance
To spread themselves and make us cry:
"They've spilled a paint-shop in the sky?"
Where else can maidens get so wet
When wearing bathing-suits? and yet
Where else is humor half so dry
Or wit and wisdom half so spry?
Where else do bridge fiends congregate
So thickly, or sit up so late?
Where else do pretty wives despise
The art of making goo-goo eyes
And husbands their own wires adore
Exclusively - and nothing more?
Where else do lovers seek the trail
Through woodland glens, and never fail
To cling together at all cost
To keep themselves from getting lost?
Where else are peaches double price
Because they taste so mighty nice?
Where else are peas so luscious sweet
Or chickens half so good to eat?
Where else are fishes so polite
That on your hook they always bite?
Where else do cottagers dictate
The cost of lights, the water rate.
And run the whole shebang just right
To make the sore-heads rave and fight?
Where else, in short, is found so nice
An imitation paradise?

Happy the boy or girl who knows
This land of rainbows, beaux and bows,
Where every night there is a chance
To revel in the merry dance;
Where motor boats are thick as bees
And all can mote whene'er they please;
Where all is love and peace and joy
Without a 'skeeter to annoy
Or sign of any carking care
To be discovered anywhere.

On you, dear Mac., where stands my shack,
I'll ne'er by work or deed go back;
But ever will I drool they praise
And love thee well for all my days.

THE FORGETFUL POET

By Ruth Plumly Thompson

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 21, 1917.

A Handful of Riddles What Have We Here?

What a goat's sometimes called
I can spread on my bread,
Or part of a door will
Do nicely instead.

A part of my nose
I can cross, I suppose,
And part of my eye I could throw,
If I chose.

While part of my hands
Grow in tropical lands,
And part of my fingers
All building demands!

Where is the Flowery Kingdom and what do we mean when we say The Tight Little Island?

Copyright © 2005 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

OLIVER ELEPHANT LEARNS TO SWIM

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

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, August 30, 1914.


And so - Oliver Elephant learned to swim! Pshaw! here I am beginning at the tail 'stead of the trunk of the story. This was the way of it. Big little Oliver Elephant was standing on the edge of a GREAT DEEP forest pool looking at his picture in the water. He was SO busy admiring himself that he didn't hear a scrunching back of him. I'll tell you who it was. His GREAT BIG father elephant and his GREAT BIG uncle, Abner Elephant. And when they saw Oliver nodding and perking at himself in the water - father elephant - he winked at Uncle Abner Elephant and whispered behind his trunk: "Brother, I think it's time our little Oliver Elephant learned to SWIM!"

And Uncle Abner Elephant he winked at father elephant, and he said, "Brother, I think so, too!" Then, very q-u-i-e-t-l-y they came stepping up to where little Oliver Elephant was.

And what do you suppose happened next? Why, just as Oliver Elephant started to say, "What a handsome chap I - " KERSPLASH! His picture had hit him in the eye, and next thing it had swallowed him right up - I mean down. For his great big father and his great big Uncle Abner Elephant had pushed him into the pool. (I don't think Oliver Elephant's mother would have like this at all.)

"Ooooooh!" wailed Oliver Elephant - gallons and gallons of water went gurgling down his throat and roaring into his ears. His trunk was full of water - his eyes were full of water and it seemed as tho' he had swallowed a barrelful o' pins. Down, down, DOWN he went, past squidgy fishes and scrabbley fishes and hodge-podgy fishes. They got out of his way I can tell you!

Well, just as he thought he had swallowed the whole pool he began to rise, and pretty soon his head and trunk were above water.

And the first thing that he saw when the water got out of his eye was a grinning crocodile on the opposite bank. "Haw, haw, haw!" roared the crocodile, opening its giant mouth and showing its both rows of teeth. "Haw, haw, HAW!" This made Oliver Elephant SO mad that he took a deep breath and blew about twenty gallons of water STRAIGHT DOWN the crocodile's throat. "Glub!" gurgled the crocodile and rolled over on his back, and I expect if his wife had not come out just then and banged him hard on the back with her tail he would have choked.

But Oliver Elephant didn't have time to think about how the crocodile felt, for just about then he began to go DOWN again.

"Work your feet!" roared Uncle Abner Elephant. "Work your feet!" roared his big, big father, and both of them came splashing toward him. Course they weren't going to let him go down AGAIN.

When Oliver saw them coming he felt madder than ever. Besides half the water in the pool he had swallowed several small fishes, and they were floating around inside of him, which was very unpleasant!

He really felt very disagreeable. "It's all your fault - blub! glub! - Huhwait till I get you!" wheezed little Oliver Elephant. And he was so very anxious to catch up to his great big father and his great big Uncle Abner Elephant and do something perfectly awful to them - perfectly awful, mind you - that he forgot he couldn't swim - and he began to work his legs like ferry-boat paddles.

"Hurray! Hurray! Oliver Elephant is swimming!" cried Uncle Abner, waving his trunk. "That's it! That's the way!" shouted father elephant, nearly bursting with pride.

And sure enough Oliver Elephant WAS SWIMMING. And when he found how easy it was - and how nice it was - why he forgot all about the water in his eyes - and the fishes in his stomach - and the awful things he was going to do to his great big father and Uncle Abner Elephant (I'm rather glad of this) - and he smiled a great big proud smile.

When he came up with his Uncle Abner and his father they clapped him on the back with their trunks and told him what a smart little elephant he was—and after that they swam 'round and 'round the pool and had a wonderful time. Then they climbed out and all went home to tell Oliver's great big kind mother that he had learned to swim.

They didn't tell her that they had pushed him in tho'- and Oliver Elephant he didn't tell her either.

Oliver's mother was so proud that she made a great big huge cocoanut pie for supper, and they were all tremendously happy, and after that Oliver Elephant went swimming every day.

THE FORGETFUL POET

By Ruth Plumly Thompson

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 7, 1917

The Forgetful Poet

The other day our rhyming friend
Agreed to speak before a meeting.
Engrossed with all he meant to say
He quite forgot that time is fleeting.

The people came and filled the chairs.
The moment for the speech drew nigh.
The ushers, anxious, watched the doors
And people whispered, "Where!" and "Why?"

Meanwhile in bed, the poet wrote,
And wrote and wrote and wrote,
Nor of the passing minutes took
He heed, nor thought, nor note!

The hour for the meeting came
And passed. The crowds went home.
And still unconscious of all things
The poet wrote his poem!

Copyright © 2005 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.