THE HOME OF HO-LOR.
“I LIVE over there,” said Ho-Lor with pride, pointing to the island
with the pagoda on it. “Mi-Hy shall row us across, and Gra-Shus shall
make us some tea.”
“Oh! yes,” said Gra-Shus clapping her hands. “And we’ll show Mr.
Majesty Wallypug our beautiful pet dog—won’t we?”
It was impossible not to be interested in these quaint and
simple-minded little folk, and after we had all stepped into the little
boat and Mi-Hy had pushed off, his Majesty was soon chatting affably
with Ho-Lor, who explained that he was a mandarin of the Blue Button,
and ninety-eighth-cousin-twice-removed to the Emperor of China.
We soon reached the opposite bank, and his Majesty having been
ceremoniously assisted out of the boat, we ascended a slight hill, and
soon found ourselves before Ho-Lor’s residence. To our great surprise
we found that it exactly resembled the building so familiar to all who
have seen a willow-pattern plate.
The tall pillars at the portico, the quaintly-shaped curly roofs, the
little zig-zag fence running along the path, and the curious trees, all
seemed to be old friends—while two little islands, one of which was
connected to the mainland by a quaint bridge, completed the picture.
The two birds, which had by this time finished squabbling about the
sandwich, were billing and cooing over our heads, and the sight of them
seemed suddenly to convince us of the identity of the spot.
“Why, this must be the land of the Willow-pattern plate,” cried his
Majesty excitedly.
“Yes, it is,” admitted Ho-Lor. “Don’t you think it is a very pretty
spot?”
“Charming,” declared the Wallypug; “I have often wanted to come here.”
“The real name of the place,” said Ho-Lor, “is Wer-har-wei, and it is
a portion of China; but come, you must see our little dog; I can hear
that Mi-Hy has gone to fetch him.”
“His name is Kis-Smee,” said Gra-Shus, “and he is such a dear old
thing. We’ve had him ever since he was a puppy.”
There was a sound of barking, and a confused clattering of chains,
which told of a dog being unloosed. A moment afterwards there came
bounding out of the house the most extraordinary-looking creature that
I have ever beheld.
It was a very fat and atrociously hideous animal, bearing but slight
resemblance to a dog. Its enormous mouth wore a perpetual grin, and
was decorated at the corners with curious little scallops. It was
bandy-legged, and its hinder legs were much longer than the front ones.
Added to this, the skin on its haunches was wrinkled up into curious
kind of rosettes, while its tail was really all sorts of shapes.
[Illustration: “Come along, good dog! come and speak to the pretty
Wallypugs.”—Page 119.
_Wallypugland._]
This beautiful creature came careering down the steps, dragging Mi-Hy
with him, and was hailed with delight by Gra-Shus, who cried in
endearing tones:
“Come along, good dog! Come and speak to the pretty Wallypugs. Good
Kis-Smee. Good dog, then!”
His Majesty clutched my arm nervously, and retreating behind the
carpet-bag, regarded Kis-Smee with a certain amount of suspicion, while
I must confess to having experienced a slight feeling of uneasiness
myself. For if Kis-Smee took it into his ugly head to object to us,
there was no knowing what might be the result.
There was no occasion for alarm, however, for Kis-Smee turned out to
be one of the mildest and best-behaved of dogs.
He made great friends with the Wallypug at once, and clumsily gamboled,
or, as his Majesty explained it, “flumped,” about him in the most
friendly manner.
“He doesn’t take to strangers as a rule,” said Ho-Lor, “but he
certainly seems to have taken a fancy to you.”
“He is a beautiful creature,” said his Majesty, politely patting the
huge animal a little nervously.
“Oh! I don’t know about that,” remarked Ho-Lor, looking very pleased
nevertheless. “He is of a very rare breed, though.”
“What kind of dog do you call him?” I inquired.
“He’s a smirkler dog,” replied Ho-Lor proudly.
“A what?” I exclaimed.
“A smirkler. He smirkles for mivlets you know,” was the reply.
“Good gracious. What are they?” cried the Wallypug.
“Mivlets?” asked Ho-Lor.
[Illustration: “HE IS A BEAUTIFUL CREATURE,” SAID HIS MAJESTY.]
His Majesty nodded.
“Why young mivs, of course.”
“But what are mivs?” asked his Majesty curiously.
“Things that are smirkled for,” replied Ho-Lor promptly. “But come. I
see that Gra-Shus has prepared some tea for us.”
We entered the little blue temple and were each presented with a little
blue rug, upon which we sat cross-legged, as we observed that Mi-Hy and
Ho-Lor were doing. Gra-Shus served us in blue cups what tasted like
delicious tea, but which looked exactly like blue ink. No sooner had we
taken a few sips than I noticed that the Wallypug was slowly turning a
light blue color, while at the same moment he stared at me fixedly a
moment, and then exclaimed: “Why, what a funny color you are!”
I looked at my hands, and found them a rich blue shade.
“We look like the Oxford and Cambridge boat race, don’t we?” he
continued: “I’m so glad that I’m Cambridge!”
I did not at all approve of the change, for although we did not look so
very remarkable in the midst of our strange surroundings, I could not
help thinking what an extraordinary object I should be considered in
London if I ever reached that place again.
“Oh! Aren’t they pretty now?” exclaimed Gra-Shus, clapping her hands
and dancing about excitedly.
“I am glad you think so,” I replied, in a huff.
“Don’t you like it? Would you rather have been green? We’ve plenty of
green tea, you know, if you wish.”
“Thanks! I should prefer being my original color, if you don’t mind,” I
replied.
“Dear me! I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid we’re out of that color. Let’s
see! Crushed strawberry, wasn’t it?”
“Oh! let’s stay blue for a little while,” pleaded his Majesty. “It’s
such a change, and so very uncommon, you know!”
So blue we remained, and directly after we had finished our tea Mi-Hy
brought around the little blue boat again, and we went for a row on the
ornamental lake.
Somehow or another Kis-Smee was left behind, and although the Wallypug
suggested putting back for him, it was finally decided, however, not to
do so.
[Illustration: WE WENT FOR A ROW ON THE ORNAMENTAL LAKE.]
“Perhaps he will smirkle a mivlet while we are away,” said Ho-Lor.
And I confidently hoped that he might do so, for I was as curious as
was the Wallypug to know what the term meant.
Just then we passed a curious little blue island with one tiny house on
it, standing in the midst of some curious trees and strangely-shaped
rocks. “Let’s go ashore and fish,” suddenly suggested Mi-Hy.
“Oh! yes, do,” cried the Wallypug. “I love fishing; but I’m never
allowed to do so in my own land.”
“Why not?” inquired Ho-Lor.
“The fishes object,” replied his Majesty, sadly; “they say that it
gives them the tooth-ache.”
“How absurd of them,” said Ho-Lor, sympathetically.
“Yes; isn’t it perfectly ridiculous?” replied his Majesty; “for they
really haven’t any teeth, you know.”
By this time the boat had reached the shore, and we all scrambled out
and assisted Ho-Lor up the steep rocks.
From within the little blue house Mi-Hy brought some rods and lines,
and we began to fish. There was no bait of any kind, but this Ho-Lor
explained was not necessary.
Under the circumstances I was not surprised to find that we did not get
a bite for a considerable time.
At last, however, the Wallypug announced with a delighted shout, “I’ve
got one!” and we all ran over to see what it was.
Slowly his Majesty wound up his line, while Mi-Hy hung over the rocks
with a landing net. “I’ve got it!” he shouted. “Oh, what a beauty!” and
diving his hand into the net, he drew out—what do you think? An empty
ink-bottle!
I couldn’t help laughing at his Majesty’s disappointed face, but Ho-Lor
seemed positively to think that it was a catch worth having. “It’s in
capital condition,” he exclaimed, examining it critically, “and has a
beautifully-shaped neck.”
“But it’s only an old ink bottle,” objected the poor Wallypug.
“What else did you expect to catch, I should like to know?” said Mi-Hy.
“Some people are never satisfied. Many a time I have fished here a
whole day and only caught a piece of blotting paper or a pen-wiper.”
“What funny things to catch!” exclaimed the Wallypug.
“They are very appropriate things to get from a lake of ink,” said
Ho-Lor rather huffily.
“Oh! I’m sure I beg your pardon, I had no idea it was real ink,” said
his Majesty, apologetically. “I don’t think we had better fish any
longer,” he said putting away his rod. “I hoped to have caught some
real fish, you know.”
“Never heard of them. What are they?” asked Ho-Lor.
“Why, things with scales, you know,” exclaimed the Wallypug.
“Oh, you mean weighing machines,” said Mi-Hy.
“No! no! I mean—”
“Hark! what’s that?” said Ho-Lor, putting his hand to his ear.
“Come on! That’s Kis-Smee barking. I expect he has smirkled a mivlet.
Come along, hurry up, or we shall be too late.”
We hurriedly launched the little boat, and were soon on our way across
the little lake.
The sound of furious barking, mingled with a strangely familiar voice,
came from behind Ho-Lor’s house, and hurrying forward we came suddenly
upon a remarkable sight.
Kis-Smee was prancing madly round a gombobble tree to the lower
branches of which A. Fish, Esq., was clinging in an agony of fright.
[Illustration: Kis-Smee was prancing madly round a gombobble tree to
the lower branches of which A. Fish, Esq., was clinging in an agony of
fright.—Page 128.
_Wallypugland._]
“Lie dowd, sir! Lie dowd, good dog, thed!” he shouted, while Kis-Smee
barked and made sudden furious little darts at the fish’s tail.
“Why, it’s A. Fish, Esq.,” cried his Majesty, hurrying forward
anxiously. “Come away, Kis-Smee! Lie down, sir!”
Kis-Smee left his quarry in the tree, and came bounding up to the
Wallypug, wagging his great clumsy tail delightedly.
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mi-Hy, staring in amazement at A. Fish, Esq.
“That’s not a mivlet, I’m sure—what on earth is the creature?”
“Oh, that’s A. Fish, Esq., a great friend of mine,” hastily explained
his Majesty, running to his assistance, for when Kis-Smee had left him,
poor A. Fish, Esq., had dropped off the gombobble tree, and was now
lying exhausted on the blue grass beneath.
“What a dreadful bodster!” he cried, waving Kis-Smee off as we
approached. “Keep hib off. Take hib away!”
“It’s all right,” said his Majesty, reassuringly, “he won’t bite you
now that we are here.”
Indeed, directly the dog discovered that A. Fish, Esq., was a friend of
the Wallypug’s, he went up to him, and grinning in an absurd way, held
out a paw to be shaken, which favor, however, was declined by A. Fish,
Esq., who evidently regarded these overtures with a certain amount of
suspicion, and looked greatly relieved when Ho-Lor and Mi-Hy, seeing
that we were engaged with a friend, considerately left us to ourselves,
and took Kis-Smee away with them.