THE FROG BROTHERS’ CIRCUS

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of Kabumpo in Oz, Ozoplaning with the Wizard in Oz, and The Wish Express, etc.
Illustration by Charles J. Coll

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, May 4, 1919.

The Frog Brothers’ Circus
Has put up its tents
On the border of Lily Pond Park

And the crowds in the evening
Are simply immense.
(So the Meadowville papers remark.)

’Tis a three-ring affair
With some wonderful freaks,
So no wonder there’s so much festivity.

A chicken who quacks,
And a lizard who squeaks,
And the fattest old frog in captivity!

The Meadowville children
Are dancing with glee,
And whole families are thronging the roads

To the Frog Brothers’ Circus—
Wee chipmunks and mice,
Little ducklings and froglings and toads.!

Even rabbits and moles,
Even turtles and snails,
Even fairies, they tell me, attend.

And they all hurry home
With such marvellous tales
I feel sure it’s a show to commend!

There are tight-walking frogs
And trained poly-wogs
Exactly like seals, so they say;

There are merry mice clowns
From a string of strange towns,
And you just ought to hear the band play.

Frog tumblers and jugglers,
And wild leaping hares
Ridden bareback by fearless young mice—

Yes, from all that I hear
I’ve decided, my dear,
That it must be tremendously nice!

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 24, 1920.

 
Puzzles

“Why,” says the Forgetful Poet, “why are mice so anxious to get to the moon?”

Last week’s answers were: Ireland (Emerald Isle), Delaware (Diamond State). The verse should have read:

There are capitals in every state
And periods in history,
And if you think of this a bit
You’ll puzzle out the mystery.

Halloween and scare were the words left out of the last verse.
And, now, can you make out these lines?

A man can have two faces,
If you know just what I mean;
One for every day, of course,
And one for -----!

I looked in a pool,
’Twas twelve o’clock,
To see my fate;
Oh, what a shock!

What is this homely
Face I see?
I looked again
I saw ’twas -----. 

[Answers next time.] 

Copyright © 2016 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

The Adoption of Claus from THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF SANTA CLAUS

By L. Frank Baum 
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Boy Fortune Hunters in the Yucatan, Daughters of Destiny, etc.

This excerpt was originally published in The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, 1902. We present it this month to celebrate the release of the new edition of the book with illustrations by Eric Shanower and published by IDW.

2. The Child of the Forest 

Once, so long ago our great-grandfathers could scarcely have heard it mentioned, there lived within the great Forest of Burzee a wood-nymph named Necile. She was closely related to the mighty Queen Zurline, and her home was beneath the shade of a widespreading oak. Once every year, on Budding Day, when the trees put forth their new buds, Necile held the Golden Chalice of Ak to the lips of the Queen, who drank therefrom to the prosperity of the Forest. So you see she was a nymph of some importance, and, moreover, it is said she was highly regarded because of her beauty and grace. 

When she was created she could not have told; Queen Zurline could not have told; the great Ak himself could not have told. It was long ago when the world was new and nymphs were needed to guard the forests and to minister to the wants of the young trees. Then, on some day not remembered, Necile sprang into being; radiant, lovely, straight and slim as the sapling she was created to guard. 

Her hair was the color that lines a chestnut-bur; her eyes were blue in the sunlight and purple in the shade; her cheeks bloomed with the faint pink that edges the clouds at sunset; her lips were full red, pouting and sweet. For costume she adopted oak-leaf green; all the wood-nymphs dress in that color and know no other so desirable. Her dainty feet were sandal-clad, while her head remained bare of covering other than her silken tresses. 

Necile's duties were few and simple. She kept hurtful weeds from growing beneath her trees and sapping the earth-food required by her charges. She frightened away the Gadgols, who took evil delight in flying against the tree-trunks and wounding them so that they drooped and died from the poisonous contact. In dry seasons she carried water from the brooks and pools and moistened the roots of her thirsty dependents. 

That was in the beginning. The weeds had now learned to avoid the forests where wood-nymphs dwelt; the loathsome Gadgols no longer dared come nigh; the trees had become old and sturdy and could bear the drought better than when fresh-sprouted. So Necile's duties were lessened, and time grew laggard, while succeeding years became more tiresome and uneventful than the nymph's joyous spirit loved. 

Truly the forest-dwellers did not lack amusement. Each full moon they danced in the Royal Circle of the Queen. There were also the Feast of Nuts, the Jubilee of Autumn Tintings, the solemn ceremony of Leaf Shedding and the revelry of Budding Day. But these periods of enjoyment were far apart, and left many weary hours between. 

That a wood-nymph should grow discontented was not thought of by Necile's sisters. It came upon her only after many years of brooding. But when once she had settled in her mind that life was irksome she had no patience with her condition, and longed to do something of real interest and to pass her days in ways hitherto undreamed of by forest nymphs. The Law of the Forest alone restrained her from going forth in search of adventure. 

While this mood lay heavy upon pretty Necile it chanced that the great Ak visited the Forest of Burzee and allowed the wood-nymphs as was their wont—to lie at his feet and listen to the words of wisdom that fell from his lips. Ak is the Master Woodsman of the world; he sees everything, and knows more than the sons of men. 

That night he held the Queen's hand, for he loved the nymphs as a father loves his children; and Necile lay at his feet with many of her sisters and earnestly harkened as he spoke. 

"We live so happily, my fair ones, in our forest glades," said Ak, stroking his grizzled beard thoughtfully, "that we know nothing of the sorrow and misery that fall to the lot of those poor mortals who inhabit the open spaces of the earth. They are not of our race, it is true, yet compassion well befits beings so fairly favored as ourselves. Often as I pass by the dwelling of some suffering mortal I am tempted to stop and banish the poor thing's misery. Yet suffering, in moderation, is the natural lot of mortals, and it is not our place to interfere with the laws of Nature." 

"Nevertheless," said the fair Queen, nodding her golden head at the Master Woodsman, "it would not be a vain guess that Ak has often assisted these hapless mortals." 

Ak smiled. 

"Sometimes," he replied, "when they are very young—'children,' the mortals call them—I have stopped to rescue them from misery. The men and women I dare not interfere with; they must bear the burdens Nature has imposed upon them. But the helpless infants, the innocent children of men, have a right to be happy until they become full-grown and able to bear the trials of humanity. So I feel I am justified in assisting them. Not long ago—a year, maybe—I found four poor children huddled in a wooden hut, slowly freezing to death. Their parents had gone to a neighboring village for food, and had left a fire to warm their little ones while they were absent. But a storm arose and drifted the snow in their path, so they were long on the road. Meantime the fire went out and the frost crept into the bones of the waiting children." 

"Poor things!" murmured the Queen softly. "What did you do?" 

"I called Nelko, bidding him fetch wood from my forests and breathe upon it until the fire blazed again and warmed the little room where the children lay. Then they ceased shivering and fell asleep until their parents came." 

"I am glad you did thus," said the good Queen, beaming upon the Master; and Necile, who had eagerly listened to every word, echoed in a whisper: "I, too, am glad!" 

"And this very night," continued Ak, "as I came to the edge of Burzee I heard a feeble cry, which I judged came from a human infant. I looked about me and found, close to the forest, a helpless babe, lying quite naked upon the grasses and wailing piteously. Not far away, screened by the forest, crouched Shiegra, the lioness, intent upon devouring the infant for her evening meal." 

"And what did you do, Ak?" asked the Queen, breathlessly. 

"Not much, being in a hurry to greet my nymphs. But I commanded Shiegra to lie close to the babe, and to give it her milk to quiet its hunger. And I told her to send word throughout the forest, to all beasts and reptiles, that the child should not be harmed." 

"I am glad you did thus," said the good Queen again, in a tone of relief; but this time Necile did not echo her words, for the nymph, filled with a strange resolve, had suddenly stolen away from the group. 

Swiftly her lithe form darted through the forest paths until she reached the edge of mighty Burzee, when she paused to gaze curiously about her. Never until now had she ventured so far, for the Law of the Forest had placed the nymphs in its inmost depths. 

Necile knew she was breaking the Law, but the thought did not give pause to her dainty feet. She had decided to see with her own eyes this infant Ak had told of, for she had never yet beheld a child of man. All the immortals are full-grown; there are no children among them. Peering through the trees Necile saw the child lying on the grass. But now it was sweetly sleeping, having been comforted by the milk drawn from Shiegra. It was not old enough to know what peril means; if it did not feel hunger it was content. 

Softly the nymph stole to the side of the babe and knelt upon the sward, her long robe of rose leaf color spreading about her like a gossamer cloud. Her lovely countenance expressed curiosity and surprise, but, most of all, a tender, womanly pity. The babe was newborn, chubby and pink. It was entirely helpless. While the nymph gazed the infant opened its eyes, smiled upon her, and stretched out two dimpled arms. In another instant Necile had caught it to her breast and was hurrying with it through the forest paths.

3. The Adoption

The Master Woodsman suddenly rose, with knitted brows. "There is a strange presence in the Forest," he declared. Then the Queen and her nymphs turned and saw standing before them Necile, with the sleeping infant clasped tightly in her arms and a defiant look in her deep blue eyes. 

And thus for a moment they remained, the nymphs filled with surprise and consternation, but the brow of the Master Woodsman gradually clearing as he gazed intently upon the beautiful immortal who had wilfully broken the Law. Then the great Ak, to the wonder of all, laid his hand softly on Necile's flowing locks and kissed her on her fair forehead. 

"For the first time within my knowledge," said he, gently, "a nymph has defied me and my laws; yet in my heart can I find no word of chiding. What is your desire, Necile?" 

"Let me keep the child!" she answered, beginning to tremble and falling on her knees in supplication. 

"Here, in the Forest of Burzee, where the human race has never yet penetrated?" questioned Ak. 

"Here, in the Forest of Burzee," replied the nymph, boldly. "It is my home, and I am weary for lack of occupation. Let me care for the babe! See how weak and helpless it is. Surely it can not harm Burzee nor the Master Woodsman of the World!" 

"But the Law, child, the Law!" cried Ak, sternly. 

"The Law is made by the Master Woodsman," returned Necile; "if he bids me care for the babe he himself has saved from death, who in all the world dare oppose me?" Queen Zurline, who had listened intently to this conversation, clapped her pretty hands gleefully at the nymph's answer. 

"You are fairly trapped, O Ak!" she exclaimed, laughing. "Now, I pray you, give heed to Necile's petition." 

The Woodsman, as was his habit when in thought, stroked his grizzled beard slowly. Then he said:
 
"She shall keep the babe, and I will give it my protection. But I warn you all that as this is the first time I have relaxed the Law, so shall it be the last time. Never more, to the end of the World, shall a mortal be adopted by an immortal. Otherwise would we abandon our happy existence for one of trouble and anxiety. Good night, my nymphs!" 

Then Ak was gone from their midst, and Necile hurried away to her bower to rejoice over her new-found treasure.

THE FORGETFUL POET

By Ruth Plumly Thompson 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 17, 1920.

Puzzles

The answers to the places to live in were Villa, Inn, T.P. (teepee), Manor.

The Forgetful Poet wants to know why people say “Sleep like a top.” Did any of you ever hear of a top sleeping?

A jewel will give the pet name of a famous island.

Another jewel will give the pet name of a state.

There are A, B, C, D, G, K in every state

And ….. in History.

Now if you think of this a bit

You’ll puzzle out the mystery.

It’s two weeks off,

So you’d better beware.

 I mean -----

And you’re in for a -----.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2016 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

A JOUST OF MANY YEARS AGO

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of The Gnome King of Oz, Ozoplaning with the Wizard in Oz, and The Wish Express, etc.

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


Heighho, and do you know why the Earls of Kinsale keep on their hats in the presence of royalty, do you now? I’ll warrant you do not, so listen to my story: Back many a year, in the reign of King John, when every manner of difficulty was settled by wager of battle and Knights did nought else but gird on their armor, there lived a brave man named John De Courcy. And presently we shall come to him.

In those days, as in these, there were constant arguments between countries and the argument in question was about the title of a certain town in France. King John claimed it for England and King Philip for France, and the latter proposed that it be settled by wager of battle. And what a howdedo there was—what  with the erection of galleries, the invitations to notables and picking of the champions to decide the wager. Now, in all England there was no swordsman so courageous as John De Courcy, and De Courcy was, therefore, chosen to fight the battle for England. With great honor they conducted him from the tower of London where he was unjustly imprisoned and, after listening to their advances he exclaimed, haughtily, “My country, not my King, shall have my services.” And as King John needed him badly he overlooked this manly though not quite loyal speech. Though what can one expect when kings are so mean and incompetent as John of England, and when one has been unjustly deprived of liberty?

Well, the day for the joust arrived; the princes and nobility of both nations were seated in the galleries. First the French champion issued forth, galloped once around the field, then returned to his tent. Now De Courcy appeared and went through a similar ceremony, then the trumpets sounded and both champions advanced to the combat. But combat there was none, for the stern aspect of De Courcy, his giant form, his perfect command of sword and steed struck such terror in the French champion’s heart that he wheeled ’round, broke the barrier and fled the field. Then up spoke the trumpets again, this time to proclaim the victory of the English King, but King Philip protested and insisted that De Courcy give some evidence of his surpassing strength. Accordingly a stake was set up, a shirt and helmet of steel placed thereon, and the champion bidden to try his sword on this new adversary. Casting a stern glance at both monarchs, De Courcy raised his powerful arm and cleft the stake so far down that none but himself could withdraw the sword. King Philip announced himself as satisfied and King John, astonished at De Couurcy’s chivalry and strength, restored him to his title, rank and possessions and vowed that besides he should have whatever else he might desire.

“Your generosity,” replied De Courcy, “has placed me beyond any desire for further riches: I shall only ask that it may be permitted to myself and my successors to remain uncovered in the presence of royalty.”

His request was granted and that is why the Earls of Kinsale keep on their hats in the presence of the King and Queen of England.

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson  

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 10, 1920.

 
Puzzles

The words left out of last week’s verses were vine, pies and size.

Out of the word pumpkin we can make imp and punk and kin and pump, and a pumpkin is unlike a hungry little boy because it grins when it’s hollow. Peter Pumpkin Eater and Cinderella are the story-book folks related to the pumpkin family.
And a turtle wears a shell for shelter, of course.

PLACES WHERE WE LIVE

A Mexican bandit will give
The name of a place where folks live.

The very opposite of out
Will give another place, no doubt.

Two letters from the alphabet
Will lodge an Injun. Guessed it yet?

A musical sign gives a dwelling place fine,
Though some folks prefer their own garden and vine!

[Answers next time. Thompson’s writing is presented above as originally published in 1920. No ethnic slur is intended by Hungry Tiger Press and none should be inferred.]  

Copyright © 2016 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE KING OF THE POLAR BEARS

By L. Frank Baum

Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Boy Fortune Hunters in the Yucatan, Daughters of Destiny, etc.

Originally published in American Fairy Tales, 1901.


The King of the Polar Bears lived among the icebergs in the far north country. He was old and monstrous big; he was wise and friendly to all who knew him. His body was thickly covered with long, white hair that glistened like silver under the rays of the midnight sun. His claws were strong and sharp, that he might walk safely over the smooth ice or grasp and tear the fishes and seals upon which he fed. 

The seals were afraid when he drew near, and tried to avoid him; but the gulls, both white and gray, loved him because he left the remnants of his feasts for them to devour. 

Often his subjects, the polar bears, came to him for advice when ill or in trouble; but they wisely kept away from his hunting grounds, lest they might interfere with his sport and arouse his anger. 

The wolves, who sometimes came as far north as the icebergs, whispered among themselves that the King of the Polar Bears was either a magician or under the protection of a powerful fairy. For no earthly thing seemed able to harm him; he never failed to secure plenty of food, and he grew bigger and stronger day by day and year by year. 

Yet the time came when this monarch of the north met man, and his wisdom failed him.
He came out of his cave among the icebergs one day and saw a boat moving through the strip of water which had been uncovered by the shifting of the summer ice. In the boat were men. 

The great bear had never seen such creatures before, and therefore advanced toward the boat, sniffing the strange scent with aroused curiosity and wondering whether he might take them for friends or foes, food or carrion. 

When the king came near the water's edge a man stood up in the boat and with a queer instrument made a loud "bang!" The polar bear felt a shock; his brain became numb; his thoughts deserted him; his great limbs shook and gave way beneath him and his body fell heavily upon the hard ice. 

That was all he remembered for a time. 

When he awoke he was smarting with pain on every inch of his huge bulk, for the men had cut away his hide with its glorious white hair and carried it with them to a distant ship. 

Above him circled thousands of his friends the gulls, wondering if their benefactor were really dead and it was proper to eat him. But when they saw him raise his head and groan and tremble they knew he still lived, and one of them said to his comrades: 

"The wolves were right. The king is a great magician, for even men cannot kill him. But he suffers for lack of covering. Let us repay his kindness to us by each giving him as many feathers as we can spare." 

This idea pleased the gulls. One after another they plucked with their beaks the softest feathers from under their wings, and, flying down, dropped then gently upon the body of the King of the Polar Bears. 

Then they called to him in a chorus: 

"Courage, friend! Our feathers are as soft and beautiful as your own shaggy hair. They will guard you from the cold winds and warm you while you sleep. Have courage, then, and live!" 

And the King of the Polar Bears had courage to bear his pain and lived and was strong again. 

The feathers grew as they had grown upon the bodies of the birds and covered him as his own hair had done. Mostly they were pure white in color, but some from the gray gulls gave his majesty a slight mottled appearance. 

The rest of that summer and all through the six months of night the king left his icy cavern only to fish or catch seals for food. He felt no shame at his feathery covering, but it was still strange to him, and he avoided meeting any of his brother bears. 

During this period of retirement he thought much of the men who had harmed him, and remembered the way they had made the great "bang!" And he decided it was best to keep away from such fierce creatures. Thus he added to his store of wisdom. 

When the moon fell away from the sky and the sun came to make the icebergs glitter with the gorgeous tintings of the rainbow, two of the polar bears arrived at the king's cavern to ask his advice about the hunting season. But when they saw his great body covered with feathers instead of hair they began to laugh, and one said: 

"Our mighty king has become a bird! Who ever before heard of a feathered polar bear?" 

Then the king gave way to wrath. He advanced upon them with deep growls and stately tread and with one blow of his monstrous paw stretched the mocker lifeless at his feet. 

The other ran away to his fellows and carried the news of the king's strange appearance. The result was a meeting of all the polar bears upon a broad field of ice, where they talked gravely of the remarkable change that had come upon their monarch. 

"He is, in reality, no longer a bear," said one; "nor can he justly be called a bird. But he is half bird and half bear, and so unfitted to remain our king." 

"Then who shall take his place?" asked another. 

"He who can fight the bird-bear and overcome him," answered an aged member of the group. "Only the strongest is fit to rule our race." 

There was silence for a time, but at length a great bear moved to the front and said: 

"I will fight him; I—Woof—the strongest of our race! And I will be King of the Polar Bears." 

The others nodded assent, and dispatched a messenger to the king to say he must fight the great Woof and master him or resign his sovereignty. 

"For a bear with feathers," added the messenger, "is no bear at all, and the king we obey must resemble the rest of us." 

"I wear feathers because it pleases me," growled the king. "Am I not a great magician? But I will fight, nevertheless, and if Woof masters me he shall be king in my stead." 

Then he visited his friends, the gulls, who were even then feasting upon the dead bear, and told them of the coming battle. 

"I shall conquer," he said, proudly. "Yet my people are in the right, for only a hairy one like themselves can hope to command their obedience." 

The queen gull said: 

"I met an eagle yesterday, which had made its escape from a big city of men. And the eagle told me he had seen a monstrous polar bear skin thrown over the back of a carriage that rolled along the street. That skin must have been yours, oh king, and if you wish I will sent an hundred of my gulls to the city to bring it back to you." 

"Let them go!" said the king, gruffly. And the hundred gulls were soon flying rapidly southward. 

For three days they flew straight as an arrow, until they came to scattered houses, to villages, and to cities. Then their search began. 

The gulls were brave, and cunning, and wise. Upon the fourth day they reached the great metropolis, and hovered over the streets until a carriage rolled along with a great white bear robe thrown over the back seat. Then the birds swooped down—the whole hundred of them—and seizing the skin in their beaks flew quickly away. 

They were late. The king's great battle was upon the seventh day, and they must fly swiftly to reach the Polar regions by that time. 

Meanwhile the bird-bear was preparing for his fight. He sharpened his claws in the small crevasses of the ice. He caught a seal and tested his big yellow teeth by crunching its bones between them. And the queen gull set her band to pluming the king bear's feathers until they lay smoothly upon his body. 

But every day they cast anxious glances into the southern sky, watching for the hundred gulls to bring back the king's own skin. 

The seventh day came, and all the Polar bears in that region gathered around the king's cavern. Among them was Woof, strong and confident of his success. 

"The bird-bear's feathers will fly fast enough when I get my claws upon him!" he boasted; and the others laughed and encouraged him. 

The king was disappointed at not having recovered his skin, but he resolved to fight bravely without it. He advanced from the opening of his cavern with a proud and kingly bearing, and when he faced his enemy he gave so terrible a growl that Woof's heart stopped beating for a moment, and he began to realize that a fight with the wise and mighty king of his race was no laughing matter. 

After exchanging one or two heavy blows with his foe Woof's courage returned, and he determined to dishearten his adversary by bluster. 

"Come nearer, bird-bear!" he cried. "Come nearer, that I may pluck your plumage!" 

The defiance filled the king with rage. He ruffled his feathers as a bird does, till he appeared to be twice his actual size, and then he strode forward and struck Woof so powerful a blow that his skull crackled like an egg-shell and he fell prone upon the ground. 

While the assembled bears stood looking with fear and wonder at their fallen champion the sky became darkened. 

An hundred gulls flew down from above and dripped upon the king's body a skin covered with pure white hair that glittered in the sun like silver. 

And behold! the bears saw before them the well-known form of their wise and respected master, and with one accord they bowed their shaggy heads in homage to the mighty King of the Polar Bears.

---

This story teaches us that true dignity and courage depend not upon outward appearance, but come rather from within; also that brag and bluster are poor weapons to carry into battle.

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 3, 1920.

ThePuzzleCorner

The Forgetful Poet says that when he said he loved 0-M he meant he loved autumn. And the words left out of his verses were ropes, skates, pears and fall; wall and fall.

A pumpkin grows upon a -----
For little boys and -----;
’Tis noted for its yellowness,
Its flavor and its -----.

From pumpkin you can make any number of things: there is a small goblin and something used by the Chinese for incense and by us for mosquitoes, another word for relations and a farm implement.

Why is a pumpkin unlike a hungry little boy?

What Mother Goose boy and Fairy Tale girl are related to the pumpkin?

A Silly Question

Pete Rabbit rushed on Mr. Terry
Turtle, helter skelter.
“Why do you wear a shell?” he asked.
“For -----, for -----!” snapped Terry.
 

 [Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2016 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

OLIVER ELEPHANT’S PICNIC

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of The Silver Princess in Oz, Ozoplaning with the Wizard in Oz, and The Wish Express, etc.

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, August 17, 1919.


Once upon a time Oliver Elephant went on a picnic all alone. And I’ll tell you why. He wanted to eat all the sandwiches and cocoanut pies himself. He didn’t even invite Tommy Tapir.

His mother thought, of course, Tommy was going, so she put in enough lunch for both of them, and a bite for any hungry little monkey he might meet, besides.

The basket was pretty heavy, but he was so afraid Tommy or some of the other jungle boys and girls might see him that he hurried until he was all out of breath and tired.

If Tommy had come they would have taken turns with the basket, but as it was Oliver must carry it himself. As soon as he came to a place far enough away for no one to bother him, he sat down under a big tree and fanned himself with his ears.

It was warm and sticky, and all sorts of squidges and midges were flying about. They had a lovely picnic on Oliver Elephant’s back. Of course, if he had been playing tenpins with Tommy he might not have noticed them—and besides half of them would have bitten Tommy Tapir instead of him. But as it was, they all bit him and he got crosser and crosser and crosser.

He whanged all around with his trunk, and to cheer himself up ate three pies on the spot. A little monkey had seen Oliver coming and now he dropped down near him—looking hungrily at the pie. But Oliver just went on chewing and swallowing and swallowing and chewing and never gave him one bite.

The monkey didn’t say anything, but he climbed back up the tree, and after a while a big stick hit Oliver Elephant on the head. Oh, it hurt frightfully! But Oliver never let on.

“This is a fine picnic!” he grumbled to himself, and picking up the rest of his lunch stamped down to the river.

“Maybe I can be alone here!” he blustered angrily, pushing his uncle Abner Elephant’s rowboat out from the bank.

He moved into the middle of the river. Then he ate five sandwiches and two more pies. But somehow they didn’t taste good and somehow he felt heavy and sleepy. So he went to sleep, which is a fine thing to do on a picnic, I must say.

A scraping on the side of the boat awakened Oliver at last.

“Stop!” he screamed “Stop—or you’ll sink the boat!”

What do you think? Johnny Crocodile was biting big pieces out of Uncle Abner’s new rowboat. He wanted the rest of Oliver’s lunch. Oliver hit him with the oar but Johnny didn’t mind oars any more than flies—and, stars!—he bit a great piece out of the bottom, before Oliver could say Jack Robinson.

Oh, if Tommy Tapir had just been invited, everything might still have been saved; he would have rowed while Oliver bailed out the water. But now—well the big little elephant bailed and bailed—and dodged Johnny’s sharp teeth, but he could not row as well. First thing you know the water was up to his waist, next thing it was over his head, and boat and pie, sandwiches and Oliver were all in the river together.

Fortunately Oliver Elephant is a good swimmer. He swam for dear life and climbed up on the bank.

All the rest of the lunch was gone. Johnny had eaten it with great relish and was crunching up the boat for dessert.

“Fine picnic!” he wheezed, miserably. Then, because he wanted to put off going home as long as possible, and because he was cross as a whole bundle of sticks, Oliver went wandering through the jungle without bothering to look where he was going. And so he got lost.

“Would you mind climbing a tree and telling me where I am?” he asked of a monkey who had been watching him for some time.

“Climb a tree yourself, you selfish old thing!” chattered the monkey wickedly. “You ate your pie yourself—didn’t need any help with that, did you? Well find your own way home. I’m busy!”

It was the very same monkey who had wanted a piece of Oliver’s pie. He’d been following him, crossing the river on an old log even, in the hope that Oliver would relent about the pie.

Poor Oliver Elephant. He walked and ran and ran and walked for miles before he found his way back to the river. Then he had to swim across, for his boat was eaten.

Slowly and sorrowfully he limped home and you can imagine how pleased Uncle Abner was when he heard about his boat—and what happened!

“A fine picnic!” wailed Oliver Elephant as he took off his wet clothes and rolled into bed.

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, September 26, 1920.

Puzzle Corner

In answer to his last puzzles the Forgetful Poet says:  “A leaf turns color without moving.”

The words missing from his verses were days and shelf.

Today he said that he just loved 0-M. Now what do you suppose he meant?

And can you piece this patchwork rhyme together?

Jumping ----- and marbles
Roller ----- and ball,
Apples red and sickel -----
Sing a song of -----.

Evenings growing shorter,
Red leaves on the -----,
Hikes and bikes and tramping,
Sing a song of -----.

 [Answers next time.] 

Copyright © 2016 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

BABY PULLED THE PUSSY'S TAIL

By L. Frank Baum 
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Boy Fortune Hunters in the Yucatan, Daughters of Destiny, etc.

Illustrated by W. W. Denslow

Originally published in Father Goose: His Book, 1899.

THE FORGETFUL POET 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, September 19, 1920.

Puzzle Corner

The answers to last week’s puzzles were: Greenland and the Rd Sea. The musical instruments were: Viols, Cornet, organ, harp and horns.

This week he wants to know what turns without moving and what words he has left out of this poem:

SEPTEMBER

September’s nineteen ----- today,
And almost middle-aged.
Already in the Halls of Time
October’s being paged.

They fly so fast, these merry months;
I’ll have to run myself,
Or take a place with solemn face
On Grandpa Time’s top -----?

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2016 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF THE TWO BROTHERS

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of The Cowardly Lion of Oz, Ozoplaning with the Wizard in Oz, and The Wish Express, etc.
 
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, February 27, 1916.


Once upon a time two brothers set out from London, to seek their fortunes. They were tall, handsome and healthy, but possessed of no other riches.

They had not gone far before they came to a little girl sitting upon a stile. She was crying bitterly. The first brother, whose name was John, stopped and leaning over asked her what was the matter? “Tut! Tut! What foolishness!” exclaimed the other brother impatiently. “Are we to stop for every sniffling youngster whom we meet? I, for my part, wish to get along in the world and make my fortune. I cannot afford to waste my time on things for which I get no return!” John, the first brother, paid no attention to George, the second brother, but taking out his handkerchief he kindly wiped the little girls tears, and seating himself upon a stone, took her on his lap. Then he pulled out some loose sheets of paper, which he had in his pocket, and began drawing rabbits and bowwows and all sort of funny beasts, so that presently the little girl was clapping her hands with merriment.

At this, George, grumbling something about “Nonsense and Ne’er-do-well!” stamped off down the road by himself. John, meanwhile, drew one thing and another and the more the little maid laughed the happier he felt and the better his pictures became. Just as he was putting the finishing touches to a sketch of the little girl herself, along came a fine carriage with prancing white horses.

“Daddy! Daddy!” cried the little girl, jumping out of John’s lap and running toward the carriage. The white horses were drawn up in a jiffy and out of the carriage sprang a courtly gentleman. And next thing you know, the first brother was rolling gayly down the road in the fine carriage between the little girl and her father, and it wasn’t long before they passed the second brother trudging wearily along on foot. He cried out to his brother, but John and the little girl’s father were so busy talking that they did not hear him. To tell the truth, that gentleman was so grateful for John’s kindness to his little girl, who had been lost, and so delighted with the pictures he had made for her, that he invited him home to dinner on the spot. And from that day fortune smiled upon the first brother. His pictures, drawn to give a little girl pleasure, proved more valuable than he knew. The little girl’s father showed them to all his friends, who immediately commissioned John to paint their portraits, and the portraits of their wives and children, and finally he had so much work and so many friends that he was happy as the day was long.

The second brother tramped along crossly by himself and at nightfall tapped upon the door of a small cottage. The door was opened by a tiny little old lady. George asked her roughly for a night’s lodging. This the little old lady agreed to give him if George cut her wood. He took the ax that she gave him and going sulkily into the yard cut a small quantity of wood. When he carried it into the kitchen the little old lady, who had set out a comfortable supper for him, stared in amazement. “Why have you cut so little?” she asked in surprise. “I’ve cut an amount which I consider equal to my supper and lodging and no more and no less. I am out to make my fortune and cannot cut wood for nothing!” announced George, sitting comfortably down by the fire.

“Indeed!” cried the little old lady, stamping her foot. “Indeed! Then take that for which you have paid!” Throwing a loaf no larger than a man’s fist into his lap, she called her son, who hustled him out of doors in no time. And so things went, from bad to worse, for everywhere the second brother went he tried to bargain and bully folks into giving him more than he earned. All he thought of was getting—of giving he knew nothing.

At last, finding that the world had small use for his talents, he joined a gang of thieves and after many adventures was caught and brought to trial. In those days thieves were hung, and hung he should certainly have been if his brother John had not heard of the proceedings in time. So famous had John become by now that upon his recommendation the wicked brother was released. He generously built his brother a little house upon his own grounds and there the selfish fellow passed the remainder of his days, scolding fate and fortune and everybody but himself for his ill-luck. For he never learned that the way to fortune and to happiness is through giving, not getting.

THE FORGETFUL POET

 

By Ruth Plumly Thompson 

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, September 12, 1920.

Puzzle Corner

The school supplies hidden in the Forgetful Poet’s verses were: Ruler, tablets, pen, ink, study and report.

A color will name a land
And a color will name a sea,
And you will find them if you look
In your geography!

What Musical Instruments?

A girl’s name will give you one.

The center of an apple plus something fishermen use will give another.

A name for certain parts of the body will give one used in churches.

A word meaning to dwell continuously on one subject will give another.

Certain animals carry musical instruments on their heads.

And that is enough, don’t you think?

[Answers next time.] 

Copyright © 2016 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.