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[Illustration: JUST SO STORIES]
[Illustration: How the Whale Got His Throat]
Transcriber's Note: Not being able to ascertain which words were Kipling
being clever and which were his printer's creativity, all spelling
anomalies except the few glaringly obvious ones noted at the end have
been retained. For example, "He married ever so many wifes" was retained
on page 227. For the HTML version, the page images have been included so
that the reader may make comparisons.
JVST SO STORIES
BY RVDYARD KIPLING
[Illustration]
_Pictures by Joseph M. Gleeson_
Doubleday Page & Company
1912
Copyright, 1912, by Rudyard Kipling
"Just So Stories," have also been copyrighted
separately as follows: How the Whale Got His Tiny
Throat. Copyright, 1897, by the Century Company.
How the Camel Got His Hump. Copyright, 1897, by
the Century Company. How the Rhinoceros Got His
Wrinkly Skin. Copyright, 1898, by the Century
Company. The Elephant's Child. Copyright, 1900, by
Rudyard Kipling; Copyright, 1900, by the Curtis
Publishing Company. The Beginning of the
Armadillos. Copyright, 1900, by Rudyard Kipling.
The Sing Song of Old Man Kangaroo. Copyright, 1900
by Rudyard Kipling. How the Leopard Got His Spots,
Copyright, 1901, by Rudyard Kipling. How the First
Letter Was Written. Copyright, 1901, by Rudyard
Kipling. The Cat That Walked by Himself,
Copyright, 1902, by Rudyard Kipling.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
PAGE
How the Whale Got His Throat 1
How the Camel Got His Hump 15
How the Rhinoceros Got His Skin 29
How the Leopard Got His Spots 43
The Elephant's Child 63
The Sing-Song of Old Man Kangaroo 85
The Beginning of the Armadillos 101
How the First Letter was Written 123
How the Alphabet was Made 145
The Crab that Played with the Sea 171
The Cat that Walked by Himself 197
The Butterfly that Stamped 225
[Illustration]
HOW THE WHALE GOT HIS THROAT
IN the sea, once upon a time, O my Best Beloved, there was a Whale, and
he ate fishes. He ate the starfish and the garfish, and the crab and the
dab, and the plaice and the dace, and the skate and his mate, and the
mackereel and the pickereel, and the really truly twirly-whirly eel. All
the fishes he could find in all the sea he ate with his mouth--so! Till
at last there was only one small fish left in all the sea, and he was a
small 'Stute Fish, and he swam a little behind the Whale's right ear, so
as to be out of harm's way. Then the Whale stood up on his tail and
said, 'I'm hungry.' And the small 'Stute Fish said in a small 'stute
voice, 'Noble and generous Cetacean, have you ever tasted Man?'
'No,' said the Whale. 'What is it like?'
'Nice,' said the small 'Stute Fish. 'Nice but nubbly.'
'Then fetch me some,' said the Whale, and he made the sea froth up with
his tail.
'One at a time is enough,' said the 'Stute Fish. 'If you swim to
latitude Fifty North, longitude Forty West (that is magic), you will
find, sitting _on_ a raft, _in_ the middle of the sea, with nothing
on but a pair of blue canvas breeches, a pair of suspenders (you must
_not_ forget the suspenders, Best Beloved), and a jack-knife, one
shipwrecked Mariner, who, it is only fair to tell you, is a man of
infinite-resource-and-sagacity.'
So the Whale swam and swam to latitude Fifty North, longitude Forty
West, as fast as he could swim, and _on_ a raft, _in_ the middle of the
sea, _with_ nothing to wear except a pair of blue canvas breeches, a
pair of suspenders (you must particularly remember the suspenders, Best
Beloved), _and_ a jack-knife, he found one single, solitary shipwrecked
Mariner, trailing his toes in the water. (He had his mummy's leave to
paddle, or else he would never have done it, because he was a man of
infinite-resource-and-sagacity.)
Then the Whale opened his mouth back and back and back till it nearly
touched his tail, and he swallowed the shipwrecked Mariner, and the raft
he was sitting on, and his blue canvas breeches, and the suspenders
(which you _must_ not forget), _and_ the jack-knife--He swallowed them
all down into his warm, dark, inside cupboards, and then he smacked his
lips--so, and turned round three times on his tail.
But as soon as the Mariner, who was a man of
infinite-resource-and-sagacity, found himself truly inside the Whale's
warm, dark, inside cupboards, he stumped and he jumped and he thumped
and he bumped, and he pranced and he danced, and he banged and he
clanged, and he hit and he bit, and he leaped and he creeped, and he
prowled and he howled, and he hopped and he dropped, and he cried and
he sighed, and he crawled and he bawled, and he stepped and he lepped,
and he danced hornpipes where he shouldn't, and the Whale felt most
unhappy indeed. (_Have_ you forgotten the suspenders?)
[Illustration: THIS is the picture of the Whale swallowing the Mariner
with his infinite-resource-and-sagacity, and the raft and the jack-knife
_and_ his suspenders, which you must _not_ forget. The buttony-things
are the Mariner's suspenders, and you can see the knife close by them.
He is sitting on the raft, but it has tilted up sideways, so you don't
see much of it. The whity thing by the Mariner's left hand is a piece of
wood that he was trying to row the raft with when the Whale came along.
The piece of wood is called the jaws-of-a-gaff. The Mariner left it
outside when he went in. The Whale's name was Smiler, and the Mariner
was called Mr. Henry Albert Bivvens, A.B. The little 'Stute Fish is
hiding under the Whale's tummy, or else I would have drawn him. The
reason that the sea looks so ooshy-skooshy is because the Whale is
sucking it all into his mouth so as to suck in Mr. Henry Albert Bivvens
and the raft and the jack-knife and the suspenders. You must never
forget the suspenders.]
So he said to the 'Stute Fish, 'This man is very nubbly, and besides
he is making me hiccough. What shall I do?'
'Tell him to come out,' said the 'Stute Fish.
So the Whale called down his own throat to the shipwrecked Mariner,
'Come out and behave yourself. I've got the hiccoughs.'
'Nay, nay!' said the Mariner. 'Not so, but far otherwise. Take me to my
natal-shore and the white-cliffs-of-Albion, and I'll think about it.'
And he began to dance more than ever.
'You had better take him home,' said the 'Stute Fish to the Whale. 'I
ought to have warned you that he is a man of
infinite-resource-and-sagacity.'
[Illustration: HERE is the Whale looking for the little 'Stute Fish, who
is hiding under the Door-sills of the Equator. The little 'Stute Fish's
name was Pingle. He is hiding among the roots of the big seaweed that
grows in front of the Doors of the Equator. I have drawn the Doors of
the Equator. They are shut. They are always kept shut, because a door
ought always to be kept shut. The ropy-thing right across is the Equator
itself; and the things that look like rocks are the two giants Moar and
Koar, that keep the Equator in order. They drew the shadow-pictures on
the doors of the Equator, and they carved all those twisty fishes under
the Doors. The beaky-fish are called beaked Dolphins, and the other fish
with the queer heads are called Hammer-headed Sharks. The Whale never
found the little 'Stute Fish till he got over his temper, and then they
became good friends again.]
So the Whale swam and swam and swam, with both flippers and his
tail, as hard as he could for the hiccoughs; and at last he saw the
Mariner's natal-shore and the white-cliffs-of-Albion, and he rushed
half-way up the beach, and opened his mouth wide and wide and wide, and
said, 'Change here for Winchester, Ashuelot, Nashua, Keene, and stations
on the _Fitch_burg Road;' and just as he said 'Fitch' the Mariner walked
out of his mouth. But while the Whale had been swimming, the Mariner,
who was indeed a person of infinite-resource-and-sagacity, had taken his
jack-knife and cut up the raft into a little square grating all running
criss-cross, and he had tied it firm with his suspenders (_now_ you know
why you were not to forget the suspenders!), and he dragged that grating
good and tight into the Whale's throat, and there it stuck! Then he
recited the following _Sloka_, which, as you have not heard it, I will
now proceed to relate--
By means of a grating
I have stopped your ating.
For the Mariner he was also an Hi-ber-ni-an. And he stepped out on the
shingle, and went home to his mother, who had given him leave to trail
his toes in the water; and he married and lived happily ever afterward.
So did the Whale. But from that day on, the grating in his throat, which
he could neither cough up nor swallow down, prevented him eating
anything except very, very small fish; and that is the reason why whales
nowadays never eat men or boys or little girls.
The small 'Stute Fish went and hid himself in the mud under the
Door-sills of the Equator. He was afraid that the Whale might be angry
with him.
The Sailor took the jack-knife home. He was wearing the blue canvas
breeches when he walked out on the shingle. The suspenders were left
behind, you see, to tie the grating with; and that is the end of _that_
tale.
[Illustration]
WHEN the cabin port-holes are dark and green
Because of the seas outside;
When the ship goes _wop_ (with a wiggle between)
And the steward falls into the soup-tureen,
And the trunks begin to slide;
When Nursey lies on the floor in a heap,
And Mummy tells you to let her sleep,
And you aren't waked or washed or dressed,
Why, then you will know (if you haven't guessed)
You're 'Fifty North and Forty West!'
[Illustration: How the Camel Got His Hump]
HOW THE CAMEL GOT HIS HUMP
NOW this is the next tale, and it tells how the Camel got his big hump.
In the beginning of years, when the world was so new and all, and the
Animals were just beginning to work for Man, there was a Camel, and he
lived in the middle of a Howling Desert because he did not want to work;
and besides, he was a Howler himself. So he ate sticks and thorns and
tamarisks and milkweed and prickles, most 'scruciating idle; and when
anybody spoke to him he said 'Humph!' Just 'Humph!' and no more.
Presently the Horse came to him on Monday morning, with a saddle on his
back and a bit in his mouth, and said, 'Camel, O Camel, come out and
trot like the rest of us.'
'Humph!' said the Camel; and the Horse went away and told the Man.
Presently the Dog came to him, with a stick in his mouth, and said,
'Camel, O Camel, come and fetch and carry like the rest of us.'
'Humph!' said the Camel; and the Dog went away and told the Man.
Presently the Ox came to him, with the yoke on his neck and said,
'Camel, O Camel, come and plough like the rest of us.'
'Humph!' said the Camel; and the Ox went away and told the Man.
At the end of the day the Man called the Horse and the Dog and the Ox
together, and said, 'Three, O Three, I'm very sorry for you (with the
world so new-and-all); but that Humph-thing in the Desert can't work, or
he would have been here by now, so I am going to leave him alone, and
you must work double-time to make up for it.'
That made the Three very angry (with the world so new-and-all), and
they held a palaver, and an _indaba_, and a _punchayet_, and a pow-wow
on the edge of the Desert; and the Camel came chewing milkweed _most_
'scruciating idle, and laughed at them. Then he said 'Humph!' and went
away again.
Presently there came along the Djinn in charge of All Deserts, rolling
in a cloud of dust (Djinns always travel that way because it is Magic),
and he stopped to palaver and pow-pow with the Three.
'Djinn of All Deserts,' said the Horse, '_is_ it right for any one to be
idle, with the world so new-and-all?'
'Certainly not,' said the Djinn.
'Well,' said the Horse, 'there's a thing in the middle of your Howling
Desert (and he's a Howler himself) with a long neck and long legs, and
he hasn't done a stroke of work since Monday morning. He won't trot.'
'Whew!' said the Djinn, whistling, 'that's my Camel, for all the gold in
Arabia! What does he say about it?'
'He says "Humph!"' said the Dog; 'and he won't fetch and carry.'
'Does he say anything else?'
[Illustration: THIS is the picture of the Djinn making the beginnings
of the Magic that brought the Humph to the Camel. First he drew a line
in the air with his finger, and it became solid; and then he made a
cloud, and then he made an egg--you can see them both at the bottom of
the picture--and then there was a magic pumpkin that turned into a big
white flame. Then the Djinn took his magic fan and fanned that flame
till the flame turned into a magic by itself. It was a good Magic and a
very kind Magic really, though it had to give the Camel a Humph because
the Camel was lazy. The Djinn in charge of All Deserts was one of the
nicest of the Djinns, so he would never do anything really unkind.]
[Illustration]
'Only "Humph!"; and he won't plough,' said the Ox.
'Very good,' said the Djinn. 'I'll humph him if you will kindly wait a
minute.'
The Djinn rolled himself up in his dust-cloak, and took a bearing across
the desert, and found the Camel most 'scruciatingly idle, looking at his
own reflection in a pool of water.
'My long and bubbling friend,' said the Djinn, 'what's this I hear of
your doing no work, with the world so new-and-all?'
'Humph!' said the Camel.
The Djinn sat down, with his chin in his hand, and began to think a
Great Magic, while the Camel looked at his own reflection in the pool of
water.
'You've given the Three extra work ever since Monday morning, all on
account of your 'scruciating idleness,' said the Djinn; and he went on
thinking Magics, with his chin in his hand.
'Humph!' said the Camel.
'I shouldn't say that again if I were you,' said the Djinn; 'you might
say it once too often. Bubbles, I want you to work.'
[Illustration: HERE is the picture of the Djinn in charge of All Deserts
guiding the Magic with his magic fan. The camel is eating a twig of
acacia, and he has just finished saying "humph" once too often (the
Djinn told him he would), and so the Humph is coming. The long
towelly-thing growing out of the thing like an onion is the Magic, and
you can see the Humph on its shoulder. The Humph fits on the flat part
of the Camel's back. The Camel is too busy looking at his own beautiful
self in the pool of water to know what is going to happen to him.
Underneath the truly picture is a picture of the World-so-new-and-all.
There are two smoky volcanoes in it, some other mountains and some
stones and a lake and a black island and a twisty river and a lot of
other things, as well as a Noah's Ark. I couldn't draw all the deserts
that the Djinn was in charge of, so I only drew one, but it is a most
deserty desert.]
And the Camel said 'Humph!' again; but no sooner had he said it than
he saw his back, that he was so proud of, puffing up and puffing up into
a great big lolloping humph.
'Do you see that?' said the Djinn. 'That's your very own humph that
you've brought upon your very own self by not working. To-day is
Thursday, and you've done no work since Monday, when the work began. Now
you are going to work.'
'How can I,' said the Camel, 'with this humph on my back?'
'That's made a-purpose,' said the Djinn, 'all because you missed those
three days. You will be able to work now for three days without eating,
because you can live on your humph; and don't you ever say I never did
anything for you. Come out of the Desert and go to the Three, and
behave. Humph yourself!'
And the Camel humphed himself, humph and all, and went away to join
the Three. And from that day to this the Camel always wears a humph (we
call it 'hump' now, not to hurt his feelings); but he has never yet
caught up with the three days that he missed at the beginning of the
world, and he has never yet learned how to behave.
THE Camel's hump is an ugly lump
Which well you may see at the Zoo;
But uglier yet is the hump we get
From having too little to do.
Kiddies and grown-ups too-oo-oo,
If we haven't enough to do-oo-oo,
We get the hump--
Cameelious hump--
The hump that is black and blue!
We climb out of bed with a frouzly head
And a snarly-yarly voice.
We shiver and scowl and we grunt and we growl
At our bath and our boots and our toys;
And there ought to be a corner for me
(And I know there is one for you)
When we get the hump--
Cameelious hump--
The hump that is black and blue!
The cure for this ill is not to sit still,
Or frowst with a book by the fire;
But to take a large hoe and a shovel also,
And dig till you gently perspire;
And then you will find that the sun and the wind,
And the Djinn of the Garden too,
Have lifted the hump--
The horrible hump--
The hump that is black and blue!
I get it as well as you-oo-oo--
If I haven't enough to do-oo-oo--
We all get hump--
Cameelious hump--
Kiddies and grown-ups too!
[Illustration: How the Rhinoceros Got His Skin]
HOW THE RHINOCEROS GOT HIS SKIN
ONCE upon a time, on an uninhabited island on the shores of the Red
Sea, there lived a Parsee from whose hat the rays of the sun were
reflected in more-than-oriental splendour. And the Parsee lived by the
Red Sea with nothing but his hat and his knife and a cooking-stove of
the kind that you must particularly never touch. And one day he took
flour and water and currants and plums and sugar and things, and made
himself one cake which was two feet across and three feet thick. It was
indeed a Superior Comestible (_that's_ magic), and he put it on the
stove because _he_ was allowed to cook on that stove, and he baked it
and he baked it till it was all done brown and smelt most sentimental.
But just as he was going to eat it there came down to the beach from the
Altogether Uninhabited Interior one Rhinoceros with a horn on his nose,
two piggy eyes, and few manners. In those days the Rhinoceros's skin
fitted him quite tight. There were no wrinkles in it anywhere. He looked
exactly like a Noah's Ark Rhinoceros, but of course much bigger. All the
same, he had no manners then, and he has no manners now, and he never
will have any manners. He said, 'How!' and the Parsee left that cake and
climbed to the top of a palm tree with nothing on but his hat, from
which the rays of the sun were always reflected in more-than-oriental
splendour. And the Rhinoceros upset the oil-stove with his nose, and the
cake rolled on the sand, and he spiked that cake on the horn of his
nose, and he ate it, and he went away, waving his tail, to the desolate
and Exclusively Uninhabited Interior which abuts on the islands of
Mazanderan, Socotra, and the Promontories of the Larger Equinox. Then
the Parsee came down from his palm-tree and put the stove on its legs
and recited the following _Sloka_, which, as you have not heard, I will
now proceed to relate:--
Them that takes cakes
Which the Parsee-man bakes
Makes dreadful mistakes.
And there was a great deal more in that than you would think.
_Because_, five weeks later, there was a heat-wave in the Red Sea, and
everybody took off all the clothes they had. The Parsee took off his
hat; but the Rhinoceros took off his skin and carried it over his
shoulder as he came down to the beach to bathe. In those days it
buttoned underneath with three buttons and looked like a waterproof. He
said nothing whatever about the Parsee's cake, because he had eaten it
all; and he never had any manners, then, since, or henceforward. He
waddled straight into the water and blew bubbles through his nose,
leaving his skin on the beach.
[Illustration: THIS is the picture of the Parsee beginning to eat his
cake on the Uninhabited Island in the Red Sea on a very hot day; and of
the Rhinoceros coming down from the Altogether Uninhabited Interior,
which, as you can truthfully see, is all rocky. The Rhinoceros's skin is
quite smooth, and the three buttons that button it up are underneath, so
you can't see them. The squiggly things on the Parsee's hat are the rays
of the sun reflected in more-than-oriental splendour, because if I had
drawn real rays they would have filled up all the picture. The cake has
currants in it; and the wheel-thing lying on the sand in front belonged
to one of Pharaoh's chariots when he tried to cross the Red Sea. The
Parsee found it, and kept it to play with. The Parsee's name was
Pestonjee Bomonjee, and the Rhinoceros was called Strorks, because he
breathed through his mouth instead of his nose. I wouldn't ask anything
about the cooking-stove if _I_ were you.]
Presently the Parsee came by and found the skin, and he smiled one
smile that ran all round his face two times. Then he danced three times
round the skin and rubbed his hands. Then he went to his camp and filled
his hat with cake-crumbs, for the Parsee never ate anything but cake,
and never swept out his camp. He took that skin, and he shook that skin,
and he scrubbed that skin, and he rubbed that skin just as full of old,
dry, stale, tickly cake-crumbs and some burned currants as ever it could
_possibly_ hold. Then he climbed to the top of his palm-tree and waited
for the Rhinoceros to come out of the water and put it on.
[Illustration: THIS is the Parsee Pestonjee Bomonjee sitting in his
palm-tree and watching the Rhinoceros Strorks bathing near the beach
of the Altogether Uninhabited Island after Strorks had taken off his
skin. The Parsee has put the cake-crumbs into the skin, and he is
smiling to think how they will tickle Strorks when Strorks puts it on
again. The skin is just under the rocks below the palm-tree in a cool
place; that is why you can't see it. The Parsee is wearing a new
more-than-oriental-splendour hat of the sort that Parsees wear; and he
has a knife in his hand to cut his name on palm-trees. The black things
on the islands out at sea are bits of ships that got wrecked going down
the Red Sea; but all the passengers were saved and went home.
The black thing in the water close to the shore is not a wreck at all.
It is Strorks the Rhinoceros bathing without his skin. He was just as
black underneath his skin as he was outside. I wouldn't ask anything
about the cooking-stove if _I_ were you.]
And the Rhinoceros did. He buttoned it up with the three buttons,
and it tickled like cake-crumbs in bed. Then he wanted to scratch, but
that made it worse; and then he lay down on the sands and rolled and
rolled and rolled, and every time he rolled the cake-crumbs tickled him
worse and worse and worse. Then he ran to the palm-tree and rubbed and
rubbed and rubbed himself against it. He rubbed so much and so hard that
he rubbed his skin into a great fold over his shoulders, and another
fold underneath, where the buttons used to be (but he rubbed the buttons
off), and he rubbed some more folds over his legs. And it spoiled his
temper, but it didn't make the least difference to the cake-crumbs. They
were inside his skin and they tickled. So he went home, very angry
indeed and horribly scratchy; and from that day to this every rhinoceros
has great folds in his skin and a very bad temper, all on account of the
cake-crumbs inside.
But the Parsee came down from his palm-tree, wearing his hat, from which
the rays of the sun were reflected in more-than-oriental splendour,
packed up his cooking-stove, and went away in the direction of Orotavo,
Amygdala, the Upland Meadows of Anantarivo, and the Marshes of Sonaput.
[Illustration]
THIS Uninhabited Island
Is off Cape Gardafui,
By the Beaches of Socotra
And the Pink Arabian Sea:
But it's hot--too hot from Suez
For the likes of you and me
Ever to go
In a P. and O.
And call on the Cake-Parsee!
[Illustration: How the Leopard Got His Spots]
HOW THE LEOPARD GOT HIS SPOTS
IN the days when everybody started fair, Best Beloved, the Leopard
lived in a place called the High Veldt. 'Member it wasn't the Low Veldt,
or the Bush Veldt, or the Sour Veldt, but the 'sclusively bare, hot,
shiny High Veldt, where there was sand and sandy-coloured rock and
'sclusively tufts of sandy-yellowish grass. The Giraffe and the Zebra
and the Eland and the Koodoo and the Hartebeest lived there; and they
were 'sclusively sandy-yellow-brownish all over; but the Leopard, he was
the 'sclusivest sandiest-yellowish-brownest of them all--a
greyish-yellowish catty-shaped kind of beast, and he matched the
'sclusively yellowish-greyish-brownish colour of the High Veldt to one
hair. This was very bad for the Giraffe and the Zebra and the rest of
them; for he would lie down by a 'sclusively yellowish-greyish-brownish
stone or clump of grass, and when the Giraffe or the Zebra or the Eland
or the Koodoo or the Bush-Buck or the Bonte-Buck came by he would
surprise them out of their jumpsome lives. He would indeed! And, also,
there was an Ethiopian with bows and arrows (a 'sclusively
greyish-brownish-yellowish man he was then), who lived on the High Veldt
with the Leopard; and the two used to hunt together--the Ethiopian with
his bows and arrows, and the Leopard 'sclusively with his teeth and
claws--till the Giraffe and the Eland and the Koodoo and the Quagga and
all the rest of them didn't know which way to jump, Best Beloved. They
didn't indeed!
After a long time--things lived for ever so long in those days--they
learned to avoid anything that looked like a Leopard or an Ethiopian;
and bit by bit--the Giraffe began it, because his legs were the
longest--they went away from the High Veldt. They scuttled for days and
days and days till they came to a great forest, 'sclusively full of
trees and bushes and stripy, speckly, patchy-blatchy shadows, and there
they hid: and after another long time, what with standing half in the
shade and half out of it, and what with the slippery-slidy shadows of
the trees falling on them, the Giraffe grew blotchy, and the Zebra grew
stripy, and the Eland and the Koodoo grew darker, with little wavy grey
lines on their backs like bark on a tree trunk; and so, though you could
hear them and smell them, you could very seldom see them, and then only
when you knew precisely where to look. They had a beautiful time in the
'sclusively speckly-spickly shadows of the forest, while the Leopard and
the Ethiopian ran about over the 'sclusively greyish-yellowish-reddish
High Veldt outside, wondering where all their breakfasts and their
dinners and their teas had gone. At last they were so hungry that they
ate rats and beetles and rock-rabbits, the Leopard and the Ethiopian,
and then they had the Big Tummy-ache, both together; and then they met
Baviaan--the dog-headed, barking Baboon, who is Quite the Wisest Animal
in All South Africa.
[Illustration: THIS is Wise Baviaan, the dog-headed Baboon, Who is
Quite the Wisest Animal in All South Africa. I have drawn him from a
statue that I made up out of my own head, and I have written his name on
his belt and on his shoulder and on the thing he is sitting on. I have
written it in what is not called Coptic and Hieroglyphic and Cuneiformic
and Bengalic and Burmic and Hebric, all because he is so wise. He is not
beautiful, but he is very wise; and I should like to paint him with
paint-box colours, but I am not allowed. The umbrella-ish thing about
his head is his Conventional Mane.]
Said Leopard to Baviaan (and it was a very hot day), 'Where has all the
game gone?'
And Baviaan winked. _He_ knew.
Said the Ethiopian to Baviaan, 'Can you tell me the present habitat of
the aboriginal Fauna?' (That meant just the same thing, but the
Ethiopian always used long words. He was a grown-up.)
And Baviaan winked. _He_ knew.
Then said Baviaan, 'The game has gone into other spots; and my advice to
you, Leopard, is to go into other spots as soon as you can.'
And the Ethiopian said, 'That is all very fine, but I wish to know
whither the aboriginal Fauna has migrated.'
Then said Baviaan, 'The aboriginal Fauna has joined the aboriginal Flora
because it was high time for a change; and my advice to you, Ethiopian,
is to change as soon as you can.'
That puzzled the Leopard and the Ethiopian, but they set off to look
for the aboriginal Flora, and presently, after ever so many days, they
saw a great, high, tall forest full of tree trunks all 'sclusively
speckled and sprottled and spottled, dotted and splashed and slashed and
hatched and cross-hatched with shadows. (Say that quickly aloud, and you
will see how _very_ shadowy the forest must have been.)
'What is this,' said the Leopard, 'that is so 'sclusively dark, and yet
so full of little pieces of light?'
'I don't know,' said the Ethiopian, 'but it ought to be the aboriginal
Flora. I can smell Giraffe, and I can hear Giraffe, but I can't see
Giraffe.'
'That's curious,' said the Leopard. 'I suppose it is because we have
just come in out of the sunshine. I can smell Zebra, and I can hear
Zebra, but I can't see Zebra.'
'Wait a bit,' said the Ethiopian. 'It's a long time since we've hunted
'em. Perhaps we've forgotten what they were like.'
'Fiddle!' said the Leopard. 'I remember them perfectly on the High
Veldt, especially their marrow-bones. Giraffe is about seventeen feet
high, of a 'sclusively fulvous golden-yellow from head to heel; and
Zebra is about four and a half feet high, of a 'sclusively grey-fawn
colour from head to heel.'
'Umm,' said the Ethiopian, looking into the speckly-spickly shadows of
the aboriginal Flora-forest. 'Then they ought to show up in this dark
place like ripe bananas in a smoke-house.'
But they didn't. The Leopard and the Ethiopian hunted all day; and
though they could smell them and hear them, they never saw one of them.
'For goodness' sake,' said the Leopard at tea-time, 'let us wait till it
gets dark. This daylight hunting is a perfect scandal.'
So they waited till dark, and then the Leopard heard something breathing
sniffily in the starlight that fell all stripy through the branches, and
he jumped at the noise, and it smelt like Zebra, and it felt like Zebra,
and when he knocked it down it kicked like Zebra, but he couldn't see
it. So he said, 'Be quiet, O you person without any form. I am going to
sit on your head till morning, because there is something about you that
I don't understand.'
Presently he heard a grunt and a crash and a scramble, and the Ethiopian
called out, 'I've caught a thing that I can't see. It smells like
Giraffe, and it kicks like Giraffe, but it hasn't any form.'
'Don't you trust it,' said the Leopard. 'Sit on its head till the
morning--same as me. They haven't any form--any of 'em.'
* * * * *
So they sat down on them hard till bright morning-time, and then Leopard
said, 'What have you at your end of the table, Brother?'
The Ethiopian scratched his head and said, 'It ought to be 'sclusively a
rich fulvous orange-tawny from head to heel, and it ought to be Giraffe;
but it is covered all over with chestnut blotches. What have you at
_your_ end of the table, Brother?'
And the Leopard scratched his head and said, 'It ought to be 'sclusively
a delicate greyish-fawn, and it ought to be Zebra; but it is covered all
over with black and purple stripes. What in the world have you been
doing to yourself, Zebra? Don't you know that if you were on the High
Veldt I could see you ten miles off? You haven't any form.'
'Yes,' said the Zebra, 'but this isn't the High Veldt. Can't you see?'
'I can now,' said the Leopard. 'But I couldn't all yesterday. How is it
done?'
'Let us up,' said the Zebra, 'and we will show you.'
They let the Zebra and the Giraffe get up; and Zebra moved away to some
little thorn-bushes where the sunlight fell all stripy, and Giraffe
moved off to some tallish trees where the shadows fell all blotchy.
'Now watch,' said the Zebra and the Giraffe. 'This is the way it's done.
One--two--three! And where's your breakfast?'
Leopard stared, and Ethiopian stared, but all they could see were stripy
shadows and blotched shadows in the forest, but never a sign of Zebra
and Giraffe. They had just walked off and hidden themselves in the
shadowy forest.
'Hi! Hi!' said the Ethiopian. 'That's a trick worth learning. Take a
lesson by it, Leopard. You show up in this dark place like a bar of soap
in a coal-scuttle.'
'Ho! Ho!' said the Leopard. 'Would it surprise you very much to know
that you show up in this dark place like a mustard-plaster on a sack of
coals?'
Well, calling names won't catch dinner, said the Ethiopian. 'The long
and the little of it is that we don't match our backgrounds. I'm going
to take Baviaan's advice. He told me I ought to change; and as I've
nothing to change except my skin I'm going to change that.'
'What to?' said the Leopard, tremendously excited.
'To a nice working blackish-brownish colour, with a little purple in it,
and touches of slaty-blue. It will be the very thing for hiding in
hollows and behind trees.'
So he changed his skin then and there, and the Leopard was more excited
than ever; he had never seen a man change his skin before.
'But what about me?' he said, when the Ethiopian had worked his last
little finger into his fine new black skin.
'You take Baviaan's advice too. He told you to go into spots.'
'So I did,' said the Leopard. 'I went into other spots as fast as I
could. I went into this spot with you, and a lot of good it has done
me.'
'Oh,' said the Ethiopian, 'Baviaan didn't mean spots in South Africa. He
meant spots on your skin.'
'What's the use of that?' said the Leopard.
'Think of Giraffe,' said the Ethiopian. 'Or if you prefer stripes,
think of Zebra. They find their spots and stripes give them perfect
satisfaction.'
'Umm,' said the Leopard. 'I wouldn't look like Zebra--not for ever so.'
'Well, make up your mind,' said the Ethiopian, 'because I'd hate to go
hunting without you, but I must if you insist on looking like a
sun-flower against a tarred fence.'
'I'll take spots, then,' said the Leopard; 'but don't make 'em too
vulgar-big. I wouldn't look like Giraffe--not for ever so.'
'I'll make 'em with the tips of my fingers,' said the Ethiopian.
'There's plenty of black left on my skin still. Stand over!'
Then the Ethiopian put his five fingers close together (there was plenty
of black left on his new skin still) and pressed them all over the
Leopard, and wherever the five fingers touched they left five little
black marks, all close together. You can see them on any Leopard's skin
you like, Best Beloved. Sometimes the fingers slipped and the marks got
a little blurred; but if you look closely at any Leopard now you will
see that there are always five spots--off five fat black finger-tips.
[Illustration: THIS is the picture of the Leopard and the Ethiopian
after they had taken Wise Baviaan's advice and the Leopard had gone
into other spots and the Ethiopian had changed his skin. The Ethiopian
was really a negro, and so his name was Sambo. The Leopard was
called Spots, and he has been called Spots ever since. They are out
hunting in the spickly-speckly forest, and they are looking for Mr.
One-Two-Three-Where's-your-Breakfast. If you look a little you will see
Mr. One-Two-Three not far away. The Ethiopian has hidden behind a
splotchy-blotchy tree because it matches his skin, and the Leopard is
lying beside a spickly-speckly bank of stones because it matches his
spots. Mr. One-Two-Three-Where's-your-Breakfast is standing up eating
leaves from a tall tree. This is really a puzzle-picture like 'Find the
Cat.']
'Now you _are_ a beauty!' said the Ethiopian. 'You can lie out on
the bare ground and look like a heap of pebbles. You can lie out on the
naked rocks and look like a piece of pudding-stone. You can lie out on a
leafy branch and look like sunshine sifting through the leaves; and you
can lie right across the centre of a path and look like nothing in
particular. Think of that and purr!'
'But if I'm all this,' said the Leopard, 'why didn't you go spotty too?'
'Oh, plain black's best for a nigger,' said the Ethiopian. 'Now come
along and we'll see if we can't get even with Mr.
One-Two-Three-Where's-your-Breakfast!'
* * * * *
So they went away and lived happily ever afterward, Best Beloved. That
is all.
Oh, now and then you will hear grown-ups say, 'Can the Ethiopian
change his skin or the Leopard his spots?' I don't think even grown-ups
would keep on saying such a silly thing if the Leopard and the Ethiopian
hadn't done it once--do you? But they will never do it again, Best
Beloved. They are quite contented as they are.
I AM the Most Wise Baviaan, saying in most wise tones,
'Let us melt into the landscape--just us two by our lones.'
People have come--in a carriage--calling. But Mummy is there....
Yes, I can go if you take me--Nurse says _she_ don't care.
Let's go up to the pig-sties and sit on the farmyard rails!
Let's say things to the bunnies, and watch 'em skitter their tails!
Let's--oh, _anything_, daddy, so long as it's you and me,
And going truly exploring, and not being in till tea!
Here's your boots (I've brought 'em), and here's your cap and stick,
And here's your pipe and tobacco. Oh, come along out of it--quick.
[Illustration: The Elephant's Child]
THE ELEPHANT'S CHILD
IN the High and Far-Off Times the Elephant, O Best Beloved, had no
trunk. He had only a blackish, bulgy nose, as big as a boot, that he
could wriggle about from side to side; but he couldn't pick up things
with it. But there was one Elephant--a new Elephant--an Elephant's
Child--who was full of 'satiable curtiosity, and that means he asked
ever so many questions. _And_ he lived in Africa, and he filled all
Africa with his 'satiable curtiosities. He asked his tall aunt, the
Ostrich, why her tail-feathers grew just so, and his tall aunt the
Ostrich spanked him with her hard, hard claw. He asked his tall uncle,
the Giraffe, what made his skin spotty, and his tall uncle, the Giraffe,
spanked him with his hard, hard hoof. And still he was full of 'satiable
curtiosity! He asked his broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, why her eyes were
red, and his broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, spanked him with her broad,
broad hoof; and he asked his hairy uncle, the Baboon, why melons tasted
just so, and his hairy uncle, the Baboon, spanked him with his hairy,
hairy paw. And _still_ he was full of 'satiable curtiosity! He asked
questions about everything that he saw, or heard, or felt, or smelt, or
touched, and all his uncles and his aunts spanked him. And still he was
full of 'satiable curtiosity!
One fine morning in the middle of the Precession of the Equinoxes this
'satiable Elephant's Child asked a new fine question that he had never
asked before. He asked, 'What does the Crocodile have for dinner?' Then
everybody said, 'Hush!' in a loud and dretful tone, and they spanked him
immediately and directly, without stopping, for a long time.
By and by, when that was finished, he came upon Kolokolo Bird sitting
in the middle of a wait-a-bit thorn-bush, and he said, 'My father has
spanked me, and my mother has spanked me; all my aunts and uncles have
spanked me for my 'satiable curtiosity; and _still_ I want to know what
the Crocodile has for dinner!'
Then Kolokolo Bird said, with a mournful cry, 'Go to the banks of the
great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees,
and find out.'
That very next morning, when there was nothing left of the Equinoxes,
because the Precession had preceded according to precedent, this
'satiable Elephant's Child took a hundred pounds of bananas (the little
short red kind), and a hundred pounds of sugar-cane (the long purple
kind), and seventeen melons (the greeny-crackly kind), and said to all
his dear families, 'Good-bye. I am going to the great grey-green, greasy
Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, to find out what the
Crocodile has for dinner.' And they all spanked him once more for luck,
though he asked them most politely to stop.
Then he went away, a little warm, but not at all astonished, eating
melons, and throwing the rind about, because he could not pick it up.
He went from Graham's Town to Kimberley, and from Kimberley to Khama's
Country, and from Khama's Country he went east by north, eating melons
all the time, till at last he came to the banks of the great grey-green,
greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, precisely as
Kolokolo Bird had said.
Now you must know and understand, O Best Beloved, that till that very
week, and day, and hour, and minute, this 'satiable Elephant's Child had
never seen a Crocodile, and did not know what one was like. It was all
his 'satiable curtiosity.
The first thing that he found was a Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake curled
round a rock.
''Scuse me,' said the Elephant's Child most politely, 'but have you seen
such a thing as a Crocodile in these promiscuous parts?'
'_Have_ I seen a Crocodile?' said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake, in
a voice of dretful scorn. 'What will you ask me next?'
''Scuse me,' said the Elephant's Child, 'but could you kindly tell me
what he has for dinner?'
Then the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake uncoiled himself very quickly
from the rock, and spanked the Elephant's Child with his scalesome,
flailsome tail.
'That is odd,' said the Elephant's Child, 'because my father and my
mother, and my uncle and my aunt, not to mention my other aunt, the
Hippopotamus, and my other uncle, the Baboon, have all spanked me for my
'satiable curtiosity--and I suppose this is the same thing.'
So he said good-bye very politely to the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake,
and helped to coil him up on the rock again, and went on, a little warm,
but not at all astonished, eating melons, and throwing the rind about,
because he could not pick it up, till he trod on what he thought was a
log of wood at the very edge of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo
River, all set about with fever-trees.
But it was really the Crocodile, O Best Beloved, and the Crocodile
winked one eye--like this!
''Scuse me,' said the Elephant's Child most politely, 'but do you happen
to have seen a Crocodile in these promiscuous parts?'
Then the Crocodile winked the other eye, and lifted half his tail out of
the mud; and the Elephant's Child stepped back most politely, because he
did not wish to be spanked again.
'Come hither, Little One,' said the Crocodile. 'Why do you ask such
things?'
''Scuse me,' said the Elephant's Child most politely, 'but my father has
spanked me, my mother has spanked me, not to mention my tall aunt, the
Ostrich, and my tall uncle, the Giraffe, who can kick ever so hard, as
well as my broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, and my hairy uncle, the Baboon,
_and_ including the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake, with the scalesome,
flailsome tail, just up the bank, who spanks harder than any of them;
and _so_, if it's quite all the same to you, I don't want to be spanked
any more.'
'Come hither, Little One,' said the Crocodile, 'for I am the Crocodile,'
and he wept crocodile-tears to show it was quite true.
Then the Elephant's Child grew all breathless, and panted, and kneeled
down on the bank and said, 'You are the very person I have been looking
for all these long days. Will you please tell me what you have for
dinner?'
'Come hither, Little One,' said the Crocodile, 'and I'll whisper.'
Then the Elephant's Child put his head down close to the Crocodile's
musky, tusky mouth, and the Crocodile caught him by his little nose,
which up to that very week, day, hour, and minute, had been no bigger
than a boot, though much more useful.
'I think,' said the Crocodile--and he said it between his teeth, like
this--'I think to-day I will begin with Elephant's Child!'
At this, O Best Beloved, the Elephant's Child was much annoyed, and he
said, speaking through his nose, like this, 'Led go! You are hurtig be!'
Then the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake scuffled down from the bank and
said, 'My young friend, if you do not now, immediately and instantly,
pull as hard as ever you can, it is my opinion that your acquaintance in
the large-pattern leather ulster' (and by this he meant the Crocodile)
'will jerk you into yonder limpid stream before you can say Jack
Robinson.'
This is the way Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snakes always talk.
Then the Elephant's Child sat back on his little haunches, and pulled,
and pulled, and pulled, and his nose began to stretch. And the Crocodile
floundered into the water, making it all creamy with great sweeps of his
tail, and _he_ pulled, and pulled, and pulled.
And the Elephant's Child's nose kept on stretching; and the Elephant's
Child spread all his little four legs and pulled, and pulled, and
pulled, and his nose kept on stretching; and the Crocodile threshed his
tail like an oar, and _he_ pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and at each
pull the Elephant's Child's nose grew longer and longer--and it hurt him
hijjus!
Then the Elephant's Child felt his legs slipping, and he said through
his nose, which was now nearly five feet long, 'This is too butch for
be!'
Then the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake came down from the bank, and
knotted himself in a double-clove-hitch round the Elephant's Child's
hind legs, and said, 'Rash and inexperienced traveller, we will now
seriously devote ourselves to a little high tension, because if we do
not, it is my impression that yonder self-propelling man-of-war with the
armour-plated upper deck' (and by this, O Best Beloved, he meant the
Crocodile), 'will permanently vitiate your future career.'
That is the way all Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snakes always talk.
So he pulled, and the Elephant's Child pulled, and the Crocodile
pulled; but the Elephant's Child and the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake
pulled hardest; and at last the Crocodile let go of the Elephant's
Child's nose with a plop that you could hear all up and down the
Limpopo.
Then the Elephant's Child sat down most hard and sudden; but first he
was careful to say 'Thank you' to the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake; and
next he was kind to his poor pulled nose, and wrapped it all up in cool
banana leaves, and hung it in the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo to
cool.
'What are you doing that for?' said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake.
''Scuse me,' said the Elephant's Child, 'but my nose is badly out of
shape, and I am waiting for it to shrink.'
'Then you will have to wait a long time,' said the
Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. 'Some people do not know what is good for
them.'
The Elephant's Child sat there for three days waiting for his nose to
shrink. But it never grew any shorter, and, besides, it made him squint.
For, O Best Beloved, you will see and understand that the Crocodile had
pulled it out into a really truly trunk same as all Elephants have
to-day.
[Illustration: THIS is the Elephant's Child having his nose pulled
by the Crocodile. He is much surprised and astonished and hurt, and
he is talking through his nose and saying, 'Led go! You are hurtig
be!' He is pulling very hard, and so is the Crocodile; but the
Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake is hurrying through the water to help the
Elephant's Child. All that black stuff is the banks of the great
grey-green, greasy Limpopo River (but I am not allowed to paint these
pictures), and the bottly-tree with the twisty roots and the eight
leaves is one of the fever-trees that grow there.
Underneath the truly picture are shadows of African animals walking
into an African ark. There are two lions, two ostriches, two oxen, two
camels, two sheep, and two other things that look like rats, but I think
they are rock-rabbits. They don't mean anything. I put them in because I
thought they looked pretty. They would look very fine if I were allowed
to paint them.]
At the end of the third day a fly came and stung him on the shoulder,
and before he knew what he was doing he lifted up his trunk and hit that
fly dead with the end of it.
''Vantage number one!' said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. 'You
couldn't have done that with a mere-smear nose. Try and eat a little
now.'
Before he thought what he was doing the Elephant's Child put out his
trunk and plucked a large bundle of grass, dusted it clean against his
fore-legs, and stuffed it into his own mouth.
''Vantage number two!' said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. 'You
couldn't have done that with a mear-smear nose. Don't you think the sun
is very hot here?'
'It is,' said the Elephant's Child, and before he thought what he was
doing he schlooped up a schloop of mud from the banks of the great
grey-green, greasy Limpopo, and slapped it on his head, where it made a
cool schloopy-sloshy mud-cap all trickly behind his ears.
''Vantage number three!' said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. 'You
couldn't have done that with a mere-smear nose. Now how do you feel
about being spanked again?'
''Scuse me,' said the Elephant's Child, 'but I should not like it at
all.'
'How would you like to spank somebody?' said the
Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake.
'I should like it very much indeed,' said the Elephant's Child.