HALDEMAN

By L. Frank Baum
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, John Dough and the Cherub, The Treasure of Karnak, and The Visitors from Oz, etc.

Originally published in Uplifters Hymnal, 1915.


(Tune of "I'll Get You")

SOLO -
  We know a fellow who's one of us;
    He's generous - magnanimous;
  Loves to be merry; never's contrary;
    He's one of us - this genial cuss!
  Uplifting art's the stunt he loves best;
  He uplifts our hears with song and with jest;
  Makes us his comrades and calls us his friends
  As at our festive board he graciously unbends:

ALL THE UPLIFTERS -
    Hal-de-man! Hal-de-man!
  In his shirtsleeves, while at lunch,
  He leads in song or Uplift bunch -
    Oh, Hal-de-man! Excel him no one can!
  By all our clan he is called a man,
    Is Hal-de-man!

THEN, VERY SLOWLY -
    Hal-de-man! Hal-de-man!
  He loves girlies, he loves grub,
  (For otherwise he'd be a dub)
  And he loves beer, goodfellowship and cheer;
  He loves to shake for the good bones' sake
    Does Hal-de-man!

      II

SOLO -
  He's always cheery, he's always gay -
    That is his way - fun and fair play -
  Never gets dumpy, never is grumpy -
    That is his way, day after day!
  We've found this comrade faithful and true;
  Just give him a chance, the right thing he'll do;
  We love his faults, we'll his vurtues defend,
  For one a friend, a friends's a friend unto the end!

NOW - ALL TOGETHER -
    Hal-de-man! Hal-de-man!
  Happiness will with us tarry
  While we have our dear old Harry!
  Hal-de-man! Since fellowship began
  No bigger heart could uplift art
    Than Hal-de-man!

REPEAT SOFTLY -
    Hal-de-man! Hal-de-man!
  He loves girlies, he loves grub,
  (For otherwise he'd be a dub!)
  And he loves beer, goodfellowship and cheer;
  He loves to shake for the good bones' sake
    Does Hal-de-man!


THE FORGETFUL POET   By Ruth Plumly Thompson  Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 19, 1919.

Alphabet Riddles

The forgetful poet says that shorthand is all very well, but that he has a method of spelling that is sound and short. He says that if you pronounce the letters just as he has written them you will guess the word they are intended to spell. But first can you guess this?

An alphabet person
  And also a tree -
They're both the same letter:
  "Oh, say, can you see?"
        (them, too?)

And now for some sound spelling. These words are familiar; see how many you recognize:

f-m-n-8
f-n-d
c-p-a
f-u-u-u-u
x-s
d-v-s
x-p-8
x-iiii

Last week's sentence was: I foresee a foray.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2012 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE APPLE PIE PRINCESS

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of The Royal Book of Oz, Ozoplaning with the Wizard of Oz, The Wish Express, "King, King! Double King!" etc.

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, August 10, 1919.


Yes - it was lost, as lost could be!
  The Prince sat on his throne
With down-cast eyes and hollow sighs
  And many a mournful groan.
"Lost by the Prince of Pumperdink -
  One hearty appetite!"
The crier of the kingdom called
  The news both left and right.
The wise men and the kitchen boys
  The King and Queen and Lords
Seek out that missing appetite
  With telescope and swords;
Some hunt with custards - some with cake;
  Some with the humble prune;
Some try hot rolls in golden bowls;
  Some seek it with a spoon!
But one wee lass took apples three
  And wrought a magic pie -
And while the rest roamed far, she
  Straightway to the Prince doth hie.
He took one sniff - his appetite
  Returned,dears - with a bound!
And Princess of All Apple Pies
  The little lass was crowned.
He found his appetite - oh, yes -
  But pshaw - he lost his heart
And so he wed the little lass
  Who wrought the apple tart.
It makes me laugh to even think
  About the Prince of Pumperdink!


THE FORGETFUL POET   By Ruth Plumly Thompson  Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 12, 1919.

Can you read this little sentence? I 4 c a 4 a.

The answers to last week's puzzles:

Pan.
Pandora.
Juno.
Moth is the fairy's miller.

[Answer next time.]

Copyright © 2012 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

SHE REMARKS EMPHATICALLY ON SOME TIMELY AND TRUTHFUL TOPICS

By L. Frank Baum
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, John Dough and the Cherub, The Treasure of Karnak, and The Visitors from Oz, etc.

Originally published in the "Our Landlady" series of columns in the Aberdeen Saturday Pioneer, January 25, 1890.


"It beats all," said our landlady, as she threw down the plate of pancakes and wiped the turner on her apron, "it beats all how hard the times really is. There's no end to the sufferin', right here in our own neighborhood - excuse me, colonel, but your a butterin' of that cake the second time! Why, only yesterday a poor woman from the country was beggin' the grocery man to trust her for a pint o' kerosene, and he wouldn't let her have it. It made my heart bleed, that's what it did, and if any o' you boarders had a paid up lately I'd have gin it to her myself."

Here Tom looked rather red, and said hastily, "But, Mrs. Bilkins, she might have been an impostor."

"Nonsense," replied the landlady, moving the syrup out of the colonel's reach, "the country people hain't got a cent - nor the city ones neither for that matter! Even the hotels is economizing. Don't it look bad for Al. Ward to eat at the Sherman House and Jim Ringrose go sneakin' down to Ward's for lunch?"

"Mrs. Bilkins!" cried the colonel, "are you trying to starve us? Let me tell you, ma'am, that I for one won't be economized on. Fetch on the cakes!" The landlady darted a wicked look at him and retired to the kitchen.

"The times are bad," said the doctor, thoughtfully, as he removed the grounds from his coffee, "any one would think the prevailing epidemic would help my business, but it don't. Nine out of ten who declare they have la grippe are impostors, and the other one suffers tortures rather than pay for a prescription because he thinks the desease isn't fatal.

"That's false economy."

"Economy!" shrieked the landlady, reappearing with the hot cakes, "everybody's economizin'! What do you think o' Nat. Wendell's chewin' both ends of his toothpick, and Frank Beard blackin' of his own boots, an' Skip Salisbury refusin' to shake for the cigars, and Cholly Brockway's stayin' at Columbia three weeks rather than pay the fare home to see his girl? There's economy for you!"

The colonel picked his teeth with a ruminating air.

"If," said he, "I had any money, I too would economize. But it's impossible to economize on nothing."

"Why, gentlemen;" continued the landlady, sitting down across the arms of the baby's high chair, and waving the empty pancake plate with the air of a newly elected speaker to a brand new House, "why, see how the uncommon council is economizin'! Ain't they hired a lot o' poor men to plant sign posts in the snow, so as to keep them from starvin' and obligin' the city to bury 'em?

"Ain't they cut down poor Major Barrett's printing bill to $1700, when they might have gin him five thousand? And he such a nice, pleasant gentleman, too! I declare it's too aggravating. But economy must begin somewhere, and why not with the uncommon council - hey?"

But the boarders had quietly stolen away, and the landlady having wiped the mouth of the syrup jug with her finger, put it in her mouth (the finger, that is) and retired to the kitchen in a triumphant mood.


THE FORGETFUL POET   By Ruth Plumly Thompson  Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, October 5, 1919.

The Puzzle Corner

The answers to last week's alphabet riddles were pea-p, tea-t, ewe-u, jay-j-, eye-i-, que-q-, bee-b-, ell-l-, sea-c-. The word IIIII was capitalized.

A Riddle or Two to Puzzle You

Here are some mythological puzzles for a change. Can you guess -

What god of the woods and fields is named by a humble cooking utensil?

The same utensil plus the entrance to a house and the first letter of the alphabet will give a mythological maiden who brought grief to the world through her curiosity.

A month and a letter of the alphabet will give another goddess.

Who is the fairies' miller?

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2012 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE TRIAL OF THE PROUD AND WICKED PAIR OF SHOES

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of The Royal Book of Oz, Ozoplaning with the Wizard of Oz, The Wish Express, "King, King! Double King!" etc.

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, December 3, 1916.


Do you believe in goblins? Well, all we have to say is, "Look out!" Freddie didn't believe in them until - but, let's begin at the beginning.

Freddie was lying in his big bed in his big room, and he was bit restless because - well, because he had worn his fine new shoes all day and his feet hurt. He had just turned over with a big sigh, when up from the floor beneath his bed came the creepiest scuffle, scuffle, scrape, scuffle, followed by squeak, creak, shuffle, scuffle. I am a little ashamed of Freddie's first move; he ducked his head under the clothes and lay in a shivering heap, waiting for the THING to get him. But, nothing happened. The scraping continued, and finally he peeped out cautiously and saw – what do you suppose he saw? His two shoes, slipping, sliding and shuffling around the floor, without HIM. Hither and thither they ran, nosing under chairs and poking behind the door. Now, of course, this was exciting, but not very alarming; so Freddie peered from behind the covers to see what was going on.

After a mad scuffle around the room, they paused dejectedly, and, to Freddie's further amazement, began to converse. "No use," squeaked one, "there's not a place to hide." "Oh, we'll be caught," creaked the other.

"Hello," said Fred aloud. "I knew you fellows could pinch, but didn't know you could talk." At this, the shoes looked as alarmed as they could possibly look. But Right Shoe, quickly recovering itself, said, in a pert voice, "What do you suppose we have tongues for, stupid?" "Why, that's so," mused Freddie, "but you never talked to me." "No wonder," said Left Shoe, crossly, "you lace our tongues up all day, and could you talk with your tongue tied, blockhead?"

"Tongue tied! Well, I declare, I never thought of it!" said Freddie. But before Freddie had time to consider this remarkable statement a really scaresome thing happened. Right out of nowhere there suddenly sprang a terrible little brown goblin, with a red lantern, which he held high in the air until he spied the shoes.

The shoes rushed here, there - the goblin after them, shouting and gesticulating wildly. Freddie, stiff with fright, looked on. Round and round dashed the shoes. Round and round again; their tongues lolling out with exhaustion. Fast and furious pursued the Goblinman. Suddenly, with an exultant cry, he swung a long leather lariat around his head and zip, snap! It descended around the top of Left Shoe. "Now he'll come for me, " thought poor Freddie, and he shuddered and shook. But the Goblin grasped him neither by the throat nor the hair, but calmly proceeded to lash the shoes to a chair.

He seemed entirely make of leather, and he had leather wings and a terrible shock of hair, which Freddie discovered later was thick bunch of shoestrings. Now he sprang into the air and clapped his hands. Then in the door and window swarmed hundreds of Goblins like himself. They all bowed low before the little red lantern man. From that, I should judge he was a king or something, shouldn't you?

The Goblins squatted in a ring around the shoes. Now arose the king and said in a leathery voice: "Fellow Leather Gnomes! We have here for trial a pair of criminal shoes, violators of all the rules of Shoedom. Let the trial proceed!" Right Shoe was untied and dragged forward and a Goblin with a leather book pointed a long finger at him, shouting, "What are shoes made for?" Right Shoe shuffled uneasily and replied, "To wear." "Wrong!" shouted the little man, dancing up and down. "They are made to protect our very good friends, the feet!"

Left Shoe was dragged forward. "What is the first duty of a self-respecting shoe?" questioned the little man. "To look well on the foot," said Left Shoe, with a smirk. "Wrong!" screamed the lawyer Goblin (he was a lawyer, you know). "The first duty of a shoe to its foot is comfort; look are a secondary consideration. Examine these shoes and see if COMFORT is in them." Then two policemen Goblins rushed forward and, hopping into the shoes, searched long and diligently, and finally each emerged with an ugly little yellow creature. "Ha, ha!" exclaimed the lawyer triumphantly. "Se you sent COMFORT off and took in Pride!" The shoes hung their tops and muttered, "Comfort just naturally got out when Pride got in. We couldn't help it!" "Call the first witness," said the lawyer.

Here something happened which I hesitate to relate. Freddie suddenly felt his right foot tug and jerk, and, horrors! the next thing he knew it had pulled away and hopped to the floor. It must have been a terrible sensation, but as my feet have never taken such liberties, I will not pretend to tell you how it felt.

Right Foot briskly hurried into the center of the ring and pointing a stern toe at Right Shoe said: "I accuse the prisoner of barbarous treatment, which charge I stand ready to prove. By your stiffness you have bruised my toes," continued the foot sternly; "by your narrowness you have cramped and wrinkled my sole; by your shortness you have bent my nails and turned them inward and rubbed my heels in blisters. Furthermore, my toes have had no room to grow and have been unmercifully twisted and bent by your accomplice, Pride."

Now two doctor Goblins stepped forward and examined Right Foot, shaking their heads importantly and said, "It is all too true, your Honorable Court, just as the witness has stated." "What have you to say for yourself?" questioned the lawyer of Right Shoe. "I have always made a good appearance," snuffled Right Shoe dejectedly. Here there arose such an outcry that Fred thought his shoe would be lynched on the spot.

But finally the excitement subsided and Left Foot took the stand. "Call witness number two," said the lawyer Goblin. At this, Right Shoe quickly bade his friends adieu and hopped back to his appointed place, because there's no telling what would happen if both feet were off duty at the same time. Then Left Foot broke loose and hopped into the ring, making similar charges against Left Shoe. "What have you to say for yourself?" questioned the lawyer. "How could you expect a left shoe to be right?" he answered sullenly. Here again arose a great hubbub. They were discussing a punishment to fit the crime of the criminal shoes.

After much consulting and arguing, the king arose, and turning to the shoes, said: "I can think of no more just punishment for your willful cruelty that a five years' term on the stretchers. Inasmuch as you have pinched, you deserve to suffer; and as we cannot pinch you, we will stretch you."

Now a little Goblin who had been perched on the window ledge waved his arms excitedly, crying: "Hurry up! Here comes the Sun." The king blew out his lantern and gave a quick command. Whir-r, whiz-z, went a hundred leather wings, and out flew the whole company of goblins. The last Freddie saw of his shoes, twenty-five goblins were astride each one, as they careened fantastically through the air. Perhaps you wonder how Freddie could have ever gone to sleep again, but, dear me, boys can sleep after anything.

When he did finally awaken, he looked around the room in bewilderment, for everything was twisted. His shoes were nowhere to be seen, for, of course, the goblins had carried them off. And YOU'D best be careful and wear comfortable shoes, else the goblins'll get your shoes and you, too, maybe!


THE FORGETFUL POET   By Ruth Plumly Thompson  Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, September 28, 1919.

Perplexing Puzzles

The answers to last week's puzzles were:

Bed
Potatoes
Clock
Hammer
Boat

The Forgetful Poet sent us some alphabetical riddles this week. I wonder if you know your A, B, C's.

One letter we eat,
 And one letter we drink,
One letter's a lamb,
 There's a bird, too, I think!

One letter we look through,
 And one is a word
Describing a Chinaman's
 ______, absurd!

One has a sting,
 This you'll guess without fail,
One's used for long measure,
 Another we sail.
And what word is this: IIIIIII?

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2012 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

THE TRAMP DOG AND THE MONARCH'S LOST TEMPER

By L. Frank Baum
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, John Dough and the Cherub, The Treasure of Karnak, and The Visitors from Oz, etc.

Originally published in The Magical Monarch of Mo, 1903.


One day the Monarch of Mo, having nothing better to do, resolved to go hunting blackberries among the bushes that grew at the foot of the mountains.

So he put on an old crown that would not get tarnished if it rained, and, having found a tin pail in the pantry, started off without telling anyone where he was going.

For some distance the path was a nice, smooth taffy, that was very agreeable to walk on, but as he got nearer the mountains the ground became gravelly, the stones being gumdrops and fragments of rock candy; so that his boots, which had been a little green when he picked them, began to hurt his feet.

But the King was not easily discouraged and kept on until he found the blackberry bushes, when he immediately began to fill his pail. The berries were remarkably big and sweet.

While thus occupied he heard a sound of footsteps coming down the mountainside, and presently a little dog ran out from the bushes and trotted up to him.

Now there were no dogs at all in Mo, and the King had never seen a creature like this before. Therefore he was greatly surprised, and said, "What are you, and where do you come from?"

The dog also was surprised at this question, and looked suspiciously at the King's tin pail. Many times wicked boys had tied such a pail to the end of his tail. In fact, that was the reason he had run away from home and found his way, by accident, to the Valley of Mo.

"My name is Prince," replied the dog gravely, "and I have come from a country beyond the mountains and the desert."

"Indeed! Are you in truth a prince?" exclaimed the Monarch. "Then you will be welcome in my kingdom, where we always treat nobility with proper respect. But why do you have four feet?"

"Because six would be too many," replied the dog.

"But I have only two," said the King.

"I am sorry," said the dog, who was something of a wag, "because where I come from it is more fashionable to walk on four feet."

"I like to be in the fashion," remarked the King thoughtfully, "but what am I to do, having only two legs?"

"Why, I suppose you could walk on your hands and feet," returned the dog with a laugh.

"So I will," said the King, being pleased with the idea; "and you shall come to the palace with me and teach me all the fashions of the country whence you came."

The King got down on his hands and knees, and was delighted to find he could get along in this way very nicely.

"How am I to carry my pail?" he asked.

"In your mouth, of course," replied the dog.

This suggestion seemed a happy one. The King took the pail in his mouth and they started back toward the palace. But when His Majesty came to the gumdrops and rock candy they hurt his hands and knees, so that he groaned aloud. But the dog only laughed. Finally they reached a place where it was quite muddy. Of course the mud was only jelly, but it hadn't dried up since the last rain. The dog jumped over the place nimbly enough, but when the King tried to do likewise he failed, and came down into the jelly with both hands and knees, and stuck fast.

Now the Monarch had a very good temper, which he carried in his vest pocket, but as he passed over the gum-drop pebbles on his hands and knees this temper dropped out of his pocket and, having lost it, he became very angry at the dog for getting him into such a scrape.

So he began to scold, and when he opened his mouth the pail dropped out and the berries were all spilled. This made the dog laugh more than ever, at which the King pulled himself out of the jelly, jumped to his feet and began to chase the dog as fast as he could. Finally the dog climbed a tall tree where the King could not reach him, and when safe among the branches he looked down and said, "See how foolish a man becomes who tries to be in fashion rather than live as nature intended he should! You can no more be a dog than I can be a king, so hereafter, if you are wise, you will be content to walk on two legs."

"There is much truth in what you say," replied the Monarch of Mo. "Come with me to the palace, and you shall be forgiven. Indeed, we shall have a fine feast in honor of your arrival."

So the dog climbed down from the tree and followed the King to the palace, where all the courtiers were astonished to see so queer an animal, and made a great favorite of him.

After dinner the King invited the dog to take a walk around the grounds of the royal mansion, and they started out merrily enough. But the King's boots had begun to hurt him again; for, as they did not fit, being picked green, they had rubbed his toes until he had corns on them. So when they reached the porch in front of the palace the King asked, "My friend, what is good for corns?"

"Tight boots," replied the dog, laughing, "but they are not very good for your feet."

Now the King, not yet having found his lost temper, became exceedingly angry at this poor jest; so he rushed at the dog and gave it a tremendous kick.

Up into the air like a ball flew the dog, while the King, having hurt his toe by the kick, sat down on the doorstep and nursed his foot while he watched the dog go farther and farther up, until it seemed like a tiny speck against the blue of the sky.

"I must have kicked harder than I thought," said the King ruefully. "There he goes, out of sight, and I shall never see him again!"

He now limped away into the back garden, where he picked a new pair of boots that would not hurt his feet, and while he was gone the dog began to fall down again. Of course he fell faster than he went up, and finally landed with a crash exactly on the King's doorstep. But so great was the force of the fall and so hard the doorstep that the poor dog was flattened out like a pancake, and could not move a bit.

When the King came back he said, "Hullo! Some kind friend has brought me a new door mat as a present."

He leaned down and stroked the soft hair with much pleasure. Then he wiped his feet on the new mat and went into the palace to tell the Queen.

When Her Majesty saw the nice soft door mat she declared it was too good to be left outside, so she brought it into the parlor and put it on the floor before the fireplace.

The good King was sorry he had treated the dog so harshly, and for fear he might do some other dreadful thing he went back to the place where he had lost his temper and searched until he found it again, when he put it carefully away in his pocket where it would stay.

Then he returned to the palace and entered the parlor, but as he passed the mat, his new boots were so clumsy he stumbled against the edge and pushed the mat together into a roll.

Immediately the dog gave a bark, got up on its legs and said, "Well, this is better! Now I can breathe again. While I was so flat I could not draw a single breath."

The Monarch and his Queen were much surprised to find that what they had taken for a mat was only the dog that had fallen so flat on their doorstep, but they could not forbear laughing at his queer appearance. For, as the King had kicked the mat on the edge, the dog was more than six feet long, and no bigger around than a lead pencil, which brought its front legs so far from its rear legs that it could scarcely turn around in the room without getting tangled up.

"But it is better than being a door mat," said the dog, and the King and Queen agreed with him in this.

Then the King went away to tell the people he had found the dog again, and when he left the palace he slammed the front door behind him. The dog had started to follow the King out, so when the front door slammed it hit the poor animal so sharp a blow on the nose that it pushed his body together again; and, lo and behold! there was the dog in his natural shape, just as he was before the King kicked him.

After this the dog and the King agreed very well, for the King was careful not to kick, since he had recovered his temper, and the dog took care not to say anything that would provoke the King to anger.

And one day the dog saved the kingdom and all the Valley of Mo from destruction, as I shall tell you another time.


THE FORGETFUL POET   By Ruth Plumly Thompson  Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, September 21, 1919.

Rhyming Riddles

Get out your puzzle-guessers and see if you can tell--

What has four legs, yet cannot walk;
One foot besides a head?
If I should finish out this rhyme--
I'd say it was a _____!

What grows in the ground,
And has many eyes,
Yet nary a bit can they see?
We have them for dinner
Most every night, now--
What in the world can they be?

And what has two hands
And a jolly found face
That tells us when we shall go every place?
It runs all the time,
And yet runs standing still,
And works for us all with
A jolly good will.

What has a head,
Yet never uses it?
Indeed I think it
Quite abuses it.
It drives, but
Does not drive a horse--
If I'd tell you what
You'd guess, of course,
For it takes a ___
To drive a ___,
And what it drives
Will rhyme with pail!

The first letter's B,
The last letter's T;
There are two in the middle
And the whole sails the sea!

Answers to the Forgetful Poet's Verses about wars two weeks ago:
Roses.
Civil.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2012 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

STORY OF A TREE

By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of The Royal Book of Oz, Ozoplaning with the Wizard of Oz, The Wish Express, "King, King! Double King!" etc.

Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, November 28, 1920.


It had been one of the tallest trees in the forest, and the proudest! But now! The great scarred trunk--all that was left of the mighty forest hero--shivered with disgust and looked unhappily at the green pine tree across the road. How it envied her--standing securely behind the fence of the small city garden.

She would not be cut down and shorn of her green branches and carried far from her native ground. She made him think of the tall pine trees that had stood beside him in the deep forest on the mountain side. Dimly he could see the waving tops of his old comrades. They had not carried him too far for that, fortunately.

He still felt dizzy and flurried from his experiences, and paid no attention to the buzzing that seemed continually going on over his head.

Perhaps the little pine tree sensed his feeling of strangeness, for, waiting until the street was deserted, she called across:

"Hello, Mr. Tree; so you are the new telegraph pole! My, how tall you are!"

"Don't call me a tree," sighed the tree trunk; "I'm nothing but a great piece of wood, with all the life gone!"

"Oh, no you're not," smiled the little tree wisely; "you've only lost your leaves and branches and you're used to going without leaves in winter anyway. Really, now, you're quite handsome, so white and straight!"

"Am I?" said the pole slowly. "But what is all this cross-work and wires overhead and this buzzing?"

"Why, you don't even know what you are, you important person!" chuckled the little tree, and began laughing softly to herself. Just then a whole company of boys and girls came running down the street, and the conversation stopped. But the big tree began to think of the little tree's words. That surely was so about his being used to going without leaves; perhaps there was still something for him to do after all. He puzzled over it a long time. Without branches, he was of no use to the birds, and without branches he cast not a mite of shadow, so what use was he? He had heard the old trees in the forest talk of the time when they should be used for building; but here he was stuck straight up in the air; surely he was not a building! He must talk some more to that little tree across the way.

That evening, when the street was dark and quiet, he called across to the pine tree, and pretty soon he was telling her all about his life on the mountain side, of the great storms and winds that swept over them, of the forest animals and birds and of all his comrades in leaves.

"Very fine," agreed the little pine tree, "but you are much more useful now. How I envy you, for I never could be tall enough to do your work nor play so big a part in the affairs of the world."

"What do you mean?" asked the pole again.

"That you are one of the sentinels of the earth on guard always, standing ready to send the messages of men flying from one end of the world to the other. That buzzing you hear above are the words of men that you help to send flying through space telling the East what is happening in the West and the West what is happening in the East, ready to spread an alarm in time of danger and carry good news to those who wait. Listen!"

The tall pole thrilled with excitement and tried to guess what each tremor over the wires meant, and it was not long before he could read those flying taps as well as the men who sent them, and how he and the little pine tree would rejoice when the news was good and how solemn and sorry they were when the news was bad.

So interested was the great tree that it forgot it was unhappy, and when it thought of the long, long ranks of telegraph poles standing guard from one end of the country to the other, a thrill of pride made it straighten up as tall as it could. And it never tired nor grew weary. "This," thought the tree, "is life!"

One day from the far-away mountainside, a great column of smoke rose and a hot, dry smell drifted into the little valley town.

"Oh!" groaned the pole, "my comrades are doomed; see, it is a fire on the mountainside! What shall I do! What shall I do!"

"Wait," cried the little tree breathlessly. "What you have seen surely will be seen by others; get ready, for the message will come. Call to your comrade below that there will be a rush call in a moment, and bid him pass along the word."

Scarcely had the little tree ceased speaking before the message for help flashed along the wires. How quickly those gallant sentinels tossed it along the line, and how quickly the response from the valley came. The battle with the flames was fought and won, and the tall pole, watching the smoke die away, felt so happy that he could hardly keep from running across the street to embrace the little pine tree. The forest was saved and his friends--and he had helped.

What a wonderful life mine is!" he sighed happily. "And so is every life of service."

THE FORGETFUL POET   By Ruth Plumly Thompson  Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, September 7, 1919.

For the Riddle Bugs

First and foremost you'll want the answers to last week's riddles. Well, here they are: foothills, millwheel, Sir Launfal, Shylock and buzz-saw.

Here are some of the Forgetful Poet's new riddles assorted. Serious, worse and otherwise.

What Wars?

Some well-loved flowers
Name a war
Fought in England
Long ago.
A word that means polite
Will give
Another war you know,
    (Or ought to.)
And after you've unriddled that
Tell why an ant is like a rat?      And
It does not shut
 And yet it is a gate,
And everybody has one
 Let me state.
    (Even you!)
[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2012 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

GEORGE WASHINGTON

By L. Frank Baum
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, John Dough and the Cherub, The Treasure of Karnak, and The Visitors from Oz, etc.

Originally published in Father Goose: His Book, 1899.


When George Washington was young
And full of energy,
He took his little hatchet
And chopped a cherry tree.

His father grew quite angry,
This sorry sight to see,
For he was very fond indeed
Of that same cherry tree.

And so he questioned Georgie:
"Who did this thing?" said he.
"I cannot tell a lie," said George,
"I chopped the cherry tree!"

The father then wept tears of joy,
At such brave honesty:
"Your truthfulness is worth far more
Than one small cherry tree."

And when his father walked away
George seized the ax with glee
And hacked away 'till he had felled
Another cherry tree.

His father now returned in haste,
took Georgie on his knee,
And said "I'll teach you to destroy
My pretty cherry tree!"

"Don't spank!" cried George; "I'll tell the truth,
For still I'll honest be;
'Twas I, dear father, took the ax
And chopped the cherry tree."

"Oh, ho!" Said Mr Washington
"Unless I punish thee
Thy truth will cost to me the loss
Of every cherry tree!"

'Twas full a week before poor George
Sat down with any ease,
His father sold the hatchet
And saved his cherry-trees.


THE FORGETFUL POET
  By Ruth Plumly Thompson  Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, August 31, 1919.

Several Riddles and Rhymes

With the help of some bookworms I have managed to puzzle out the Forgetful Poet's riddles. The book people were Romeo, King Lear, Nicholas Nickleby, Pickwick. The Forgetful Poet sent us just one verse this week. He is too busy having fun to write more, I s'pose. Here it is:

I saw a foot that never shoe would fit,
Upon a word that rhymes, perforce, with thrill.
I saw four wings upon an object not
A bird, nor hat. Indeed, it was a -----.

A summer dress material and a word meaning to tumble will give one of King Arthur's knights. Which one?

A word meaning modest and part of a door will give one of the characters from the "Merchant of Venice." Which one?

What tool is like a bee?

And that's all.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2012 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.