[ Bunyip Bluegum ]
[ and his Uncle ]
[ are koalas ]
[ ]
This is a frontways view of Bunyip Bluegum and his Uncle Wattleberry.
At a glance you can see what a fine, round, splendid fellow Bunyip
Bluegum is, without me telling you. At a second glance you can see
that the Uncle is more square than round, and that his face has
whiskers on it.
Looked at sideways you can still see what a splendid fellow Bunyip
is, though you can only see one of his Uncle's whiskers.
Observed from behind, however, you completely lose sight of the
whiskers, and so fail to realize how immensely important they
are. In fact, these very whiskers were the chief cause of
Bunyip's leaving home to see the world, for, as he often said to
himself--
"Whiskers alone are bad enough
Attached to faces coarse and rough
But how much greater their offence is
When stuck on Uncles' countenances."
The plain truth was that Bunyip and his Uncle lived in a small
house in a tree, and there was no room for the whiskers. What was
worse, the whiskers were red, and they blew about in the wind, and
Uncle Wattleberry would insist on bringing them to the dinner
table with him, where they got in the soup.
Bunyip Bluegum was a tidy bear, and he objected to whisker soup,
so he was forced to eat his meals outside, which was awkward, and
besides, lizards came and borrowed his soup.
His Uncle refused to listen to reason on the subject of his
whiskers. It was quite useless giving him hints, such as presents
of razors, and scissors, and boxes of matches to burn them off.
On such occasions he would remark--
"Shaving may add an air that's somewhat brisker,
For dignity, commend me to the whisker."