Produced by David Edwards, Anne Storer and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note: Table of Contents added.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE WALLYPUG IN LONDON
By G. E. FARROW.]
THE WALLYPUG IN LONDON
[Illustration: HIS MAJESTY ARRIVES AT WINDSOR. SEE PAGE 143]
THE
WALLYPUG IN LONDON
BY
G. E. FARROW
AUTHOR OF "THE WALLYPUG OF WHY," "THE MISSING PRINCE," ETC
ILLUSTRATED BY ALAN WRIGHT
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET, W.C.
LONDON
1898
CONTENTS
CHANT ROYAL
PREFACE
I HIS MAJESTY AND SUITE ARRIVE
II THE NEXT DAY'S ADVENTURES
III SUNDRY SMALL HAPPENINGS
IV LOST
V AN 'AT HOME' AND THE ACADEMY
VI THE JUBILEE
VII MORE ADVENTURES
VIII HIS MAJESTY IS INTERVIEWED
IX THE WALLYPUG'S OWN
X THE WALLYPUG GOES TO WINDSOR
XI HIS MAJESTY AT THE SEASIDE
XII THE DEPARTURE
CHANT ROYAL
ADDRESSED TO
HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA
IN COMMEMORATION OF 22ND JUNE, 1897
VICTORIA! by grace of God our Queen,
To thee thy children truest homage pay.
Thy children! ay, for Mother thou hast been,
And by a mother's love thou holdest sway.
Thy greatest empire is thy Nation's heart,
And thou hast chosen this the better part.
Behold, an off'ring meet thy people bring;
Hark! to the mighty world-sound gathering
From shore to shore, and echoing o'er the sea,
Attend! ye Nations while our paeans ring--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.
The grandest sight the world hath ever seen
Thy kingdom offers. Clothed in fair array,
The Majesty of Love and Peace serene,
While hosts unnumbered loyalty display,
Striving to show, by every loving art,
The day for them can have no counterpart.
Lo! sixty years of joy and sorrowing
For Queen and People, either borrowing
From other sympathy, in woe or glee,
Hath knit their hearts to thine, wherefore they sing--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.
With royal dignity and gracious mien
Thine high position thou hast graced alway;
No cloud of discord e'er hath come between
Thy nation and thyself; the fierce white ray
That beats upon thy throne bids hence depart
The faintest slander calumny can dart.
Thy fame is dear alike to churl and king,
And highest honour lies in honouring
The Sovereign to whom we bend the knee;
"God save the Queen," one strain unvarying--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.
What prophet, or what seer, with vision keen,
Reading the message of a far-off day,
The wonders of thy reign could have foreseen,
Or known the story that shall last for aye?
A page that History shall set apart;
Peace and Prosperity in port and mart,
Honour abroad, and on resistless wing
A steady progress ever-conquering.
Thy glorious reign, our glorious theme shall be,
And gratitude in every heart upspring--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.
Behold, ye tyrants, and a lesson glean
How subjects may be governed. Lo! the way
A Woman teaches who doth ne'er demean
Her office high. Hark! how her people pray
For blessings on the head that doth impart
So wise a rule. For them no wrongs do smart,
No cruelties oppress, no insults sting,
Nor does a despot hand exaction wring;
Though governed, Britain's subjects still are free.
Gaze then--ye unwise rulers wondering--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.
ENVOY.
Queen Mother, love of thee doth ever spring
Within thy children's hearts, a priceless thing,
Nor pomp nor state that falleth unto thee
Can ever rival this grand carolling--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.
G. E. FARROW
[Illustration: PREFACE]
MY DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS,
You will no doubt be surprised to find this book commencing with a
perfectly serious poem, and one which probably some of you will find
a little difficulty in understanding. When you have grown older,
however, and happen to look at this little book again, you will be
glad to be reminded of the historic event which the poem commemorates.
Now, about ourselves, when I asked in my last book, _The Missing
Prince_, for letters from my little readers, I had no idea that I had
so many young friends, and I can hardly tell you how delighted I have
been at receiving such a number of kind letters from all parts of the
world.
I do hope that I have answered everyone, but really there have been so
many, and if by mistake any should have been overlooked, I hope my
little correspondents will write again and give me an opportunity of
repairing the omission.
Such charming little letters, and all, I am happy to find, really
written by the children themselves, which makes them doubly valuable
to me.
And how funny and amusing some of them were to be sure! And what
capital stories some of you have told me about your pets.
Some pathetic incidents too; as, for instance, that of 'Shellyback,'
the tortoise, whose little owner wrote a few months after her first
letter to say that poor 'Shellyback' was dead.
I have been very happy to notice how fond you all seem of your pets,
for I have always found that children who make friends with animals
invariably have kind and good hearts. And the poor dumb creatures
themselves are always so ready to respond to any little act of
kindness, and are so grateful and affectionate, that I am sure it adds
greatly to one's happiness in life to interest oneself in them.
One of my correspondents, aged eight, has embarrassed me very much
indeed by suggesting that I should "wait for her till she grows up,"
as she should "so like to marry a gentleman who told stories." I hope
she didn't mean that I did anything so disgraceful; and besides, as it
would take nearly twenty-five years for her to catch up to me, she
_might_ change her mind in that time, and then what would become of
me.
Some of my letters from abroad have been very interesting. One dear
little girl at Darjeeling, in India, wrote a very nice descriptive
letter, and concluded by asking me to write "something about the
stars," and speaking of new stories brings me to another subject that
I wish to talk to you about.
You know that I spoke in my last book about writing a school story,
and one about animals. Well, when I found that so many of you wanted
to hear "more about the Wallypug," I was obliged to put these two
books aside in order to gratify your wishes. I hope that you will be
as interested in hearing about his Majesty this time as you were last.
You will be sure to notice that the pictures are by another artist,
but Mr. Harry Furniss has been away from England for some months, and
so it has been impossible for him to illustrate this volume. Some
other time, perhaps, Dorothy and he will give us more of their work;
but in the meantime Mr. Alan Wright has been very interested in
drawing pictures for this book, and I hope you will be pleased with
his efforts.
Now, about writing to me next time. When I asked you to address me
under care of my publishers, I did not realize that in the course of
business I might find it necessary to change them sometimes, and so to
avoid any possibility of confusion, will you please in future address
all letters to
MR. G. E. FARROW,
c/o Messrs. A. P. WATT & SON,
Hastings House,
Norfolk Street, Strand.
What am I to do with all the beautiful Christmas and New Year's cards
which I have received? Will you be vexed if, after having enjoyed
receiving them as I have done so much, I give them to the poor little
children at the hospitals to make scrap books with? I happen to know
how much they value and appreciate gifts of this kind, and by allowing
me to bestow them in this way, your pretty presents will be giving a
double happiness.
Well, I must conclude this rather long letter now, or I shall be
accused of being tedious; but really it gives me almost as much
pleasure to write to you, as it does to receive your letters.
Good-bye. Don't forget that many of you have promised to write to me
again, and that I am always more than glad to welcome any new friends.
Believe me, dear Children,
Yours affectionately,
G. E. FARROW
[Illustration: The Wallypug in London.]
CHAPTER I
HIS MAJESTY AND SUITE ARRIVE
A most extraordinary thing has happened; the Wallypug has been to
London! But there, I am forgetting that possibly you have never read
_The Wallypug of Why_, in which case you will, of course, know nothing
about his Majesty, and so I had better explain to you who, and what,
he is.
To begin with, then, he is a kind of king of a place called Why, which
adjoins the mysterious kingdom of Zum. I am afraid, though, that if
you searched your atlases for a very long while you might not find
either of these places, for the geographers are so undecided as to
their exact position that they have not shown them on the maps at all.
Some little friends of mine, named Girlie and Boy, have been there,
however, and I can tell you, if you like, the way they went. This is
the way to Why:
Just go to bed and shut your eyes
And count one hundred, one by one;
Perhaps you'll find to your surprise
That you're at Why when this is done.
I say _perhaps_, because this only happens when you have been
particularly good all day, and _sometimes_ boys and girls are not
quite as good as they--but there, I won't say what I was going to, for
I am quite sure that it would not apply to you. This is the way to
Zum:
Not when the moon is at its full,
But just a tiny boat-shaped thing,
You _may_ see Pierrot sitting there
And hear the little fellow sing.
If so, just call him, and he'll come
And carry you away to Zum.
There, now, I've told you the way to go to both places, so that, if
you wish to, you can go there whenever you please.
I am telling you all this because one day in the spring Girlie and
Boy, who live in another part of London, came to see me, and we had
been talking about these things for about the hundredth time, I should
think: for these children are never tired of telling me of all the
strange things which happened to them when they journey to these
wonderful places. In fact they were just arguing as to which was the
most interesting place to go to, Why or Zum, when my housekeeper, Mrs.
Putchy, came to the door with the unwelcome news that the carriage had
come for my little friends, and that it was time to say good-bye.
After they had gone I sat staring into the fire wondering where Why
could be, and if there was really such a person as the Wallypug, when
my little dog Dick, who had been lying on the rug before the fire,
suddenly jumped up, and barking excitedly, ran to the other end of the
study, where a picture, which I had bought the day before at an
auction sale, stood leaning against the wall. Now this picture had
been sold very cheap, because no one could tell at all what it was
about, it was so old and dusty, and the colours were so dark and
indistinct. I had bought it hoping that it might prove valuable,
and there it stood till it could be sent to be cleaned and restored.
Imagine my surprise then, when, on following Dick across the study, I
discovered that the colours in the picture had all become bright, and
were working one into the other in the most remarkable way, red
running into green, and blue into yellow, while a little patch of
black in the centre of the picture was whirling round and round in
quite a distracting manner. What could it all mean? I stared and
wondered, till, out of the confusion, there gradually grew shapes
which bore some resemblance to human beings, and, presently, I could
recognize quite distinctly, first a young man in knee breeches,
smiling in a particularly self-satisfied way, and escorting a large
fish, who was walking upright, with slippers on his tail, and who
wore a waistcoat and necktie. Then an amiable-looking old gentleman,
carrying a wand, who was followed by a curious little person, wearing
a crown and carrying an orb and sceptre. A particularly stiff and
wooden-looking soldier stood at the back of this strange group. Judge
of my amazement when, quite as a matter of course, the whole party
deliberately stepped out of the picture into the room, and, before I
could realize what had happened, the old gentleman with the wand came
forward with a flourish and an elaborate bow, and announced:
"A-hem! his Majesty the Wallypug of Why and suite."
[Illustration: WITH SLIPPERS ON HIS TAIL]
I was so astonished that for the moment I could not think what to say,
but at last I managed to stammer, as I made a low bow to the
Wallypug:
"I am delighted to make your Majesty's acquaintance."
The Wallypug smiled very affably, and held out his hand.
"I have come up for the Jubilee, you know," he said.
"_We've_ come up, you mean to say, Wallypug," corrected the old
gentleman with the wand, frowning somewhat severely. "I am the
Wallypug's professional adviser," he continued. "I am called the
Doctor-in-Law--allow me to introduce the rest of our party. This," he
went on, bringing the young man with the self-satisfied smile forward,
"is the Jubilee Rhymester from Zum; he hopes to become a minor poet in
time. And this," indicating the wooden-looking soldier, "is Sergeant
One-and-Nine, also from Zum." Here the Doctor-in-Law took me aside and
whispered in my ear, "Slightly cracked, crossed in love; speaks very
peculiarly; capital chap though." Then crossing to where the Fish was
standing, he said, "And this is A. Fish, Esq., the celebrated lecturer
on the 'Whichness of the What as compared with the Thatness of the
Thus.' He desired to accompany us here in order to find material
for a new lecture which he is preparing upon the 'Perhapness of the
Improbable.' He's awfully clever," he whispered impressively.
[Illustration: "HIS MAJESTY THE WALLYPUG"]
"I'm sure I'm delighted to see you all," I said, shaking hands with
each one till I came to the Fish, who held out a fin. "Er-er-how do
you do?" I stammered, somewhat taken aback by this strange proceeding.
"Quide well with the egscebtiod of a slide cold id by head," said the
Fish. "I'b subjecd to theb, you doe. It's beig id the water so butch,
I fadcy," and he _smiled_.
I don't know if you have ever seen a fish smile, but if not I may tell
you that it is a very curious sight.
"I suppose you can manage to put us up here for a month or two?"
calmly suggested the Doctor-in-Law after a pause.
"Dear me," I exclaimed in alarm, "I don't think my housekeeper could
possibly--"
"Why not ask her?" suggested the Doctor-in-Law, touching the bell.
A moment or two afterwards a knock at the door announced that Mrs.
Putchy was there.
"Oh, Mrs. Putchy," I said, stepping just outside, "these gentlemen,
er--that is to say, his Majesty the Wallypug of Why and suite, have
honoured me with a visit, and I am anxious if possible to offer them
such hospitality as my poor home affords. Do you think that we could
manage anyhow to find room for them, for a few days at any rate?"
Now Mrs. Putchy is a very remarkable woman, and I have never known her
to show the slightest surprise at anything, and, so far from seeming
alarmed at the prospect of having to entertain such notable visitors,
she seemed positively delighted.
"His Majesty of Why, sir? How charming! Of course we must do our best,
and how fortunate that I put on my best gown to-day, isn't it? Dear
me, and shall I be presented to his Majesty?"
"Certainly, Mrs. Putchy, if you wish it," I said. "In fact, if you
will call General Mary Jane, I will introduce you both, as you
represent my entire household."
Mrs. Putchy disappeared, returning almost immediately, followed by the
servant, General Mary Jane, with her mouth wide open, and accompanied
by the cat, who rejoices in the extraordinary name of Mrs. Mehetable
Murchison. These members of my household were duly presented to the
Wallypug. Mrs. Putchy made her curtsey with great dignity, but General
Mary Jane was so overcome at the thought of being presented to royalty
that she fell flat on her hands and knees in her humility, while Mrs.
Mehetable Murchison, realizing, no doubt, the truth of the old saying
that "a cat may look at a king," went up and sharpened her claws on
the Wallypug's legs in the most friendly manner possible.
It was when the cat caught sight of A. Fish, Esq., that she completely
lost her presence of mind, and with arched back and bristling fur
glared at him in amazement.
"Priddy pussy, cub alog thed," said the Fish, stooping down and trying
to stroke her with one of his fins; but Mrs. Mehetable Murchison, with
a startled glance, tore out of the room, showing every sign of alarm.
"And she's so fond of fish too, as a rule, ain't she, mum?" remarked
General Mary Jane, who had somewhat overcome the awe with which she
had at first regarded the presence of royalty.
"Fod of fish?" repeated A. Fish, Esq., inquiringly. "What do you
mead?"
"Why, you see, sir," explained Mrs. Putchy, "we often have fish for
dinner--er--that is to say--er--a-hem!"
[Illustration: "PRIDDY PUSSY"]
The Fish was glaring at her in a horrified way, and Mrs. Putchy had
become quite nervous.
"Let's change the subject," suggested the Doctor-in-Law, to our great
relief. "The most important question for the moment is, where are we
all going to sleep?"
This gave Mrs. Putchy an opportunity for exercising her wonderful
ability for management, and after arranging for the Wallypug to have
the spare bedroom, and the Doctor-in-Law to have my room, I was to
have a bed made up in the study, while the Jubilee Rhymester was to
sleep in the attic, One-and-Nine was to have a box under the stairs,
and there only remained A. Fish, Esq., to dispose of.
"There is the bathroom, mum," suggested General Mary Jane brilliantly;
"we could put a lid on the bath and make up a bed there."
"Bedder sdill, fill id with wadter, ad thed I could sleeb _in_ id,"
suggested the Fish.
"Oh yes, of course!" said Mrs. Putchy, "and now I must go and see
about the supper." And, with a low curtsey to the Wallypug, the
admirable little woman hurried out, followed by General Mary Jane, who
gave a nervous little bob when she reached the door.
They had scarcely disappeared before One-and-Nine came up to me and
whispered:
"I am muchly impressionated by that lady with the most militaryish
name who has just gone out. Can you kindly inform me is she
detached?"
"Detached?" I inquired in bewilderment. "What ever do you mean?"
"If a person is not attached to anyone else, they are detached, I
suppose, are they not?" said One-and-Nine rather impatiently.
"Well, if you put it that way, I suppose they are," I replied,
laughing. "You mean, has she a sweetheart? Well, really I don't know.
I have an idea though that Mrs. Putchy does not allow followers."
"Then I shall considerize my prospectuousness with great hopefulosity!"
remarked the soldier with considerable dignity, walking back to the
Wallypug's chair.
"What does he say?" asked the Jubilee Rhymester. "He is a little bit
cracked, you know. Could you make out what he was driving at?"
"Oh, yes, I could understand within a little what he meant," I
replied. "He seems to have fallen in love with General Mary Jane at
first sight, from what I can gather."
"Really! Dear me! He is always doing that sort of thing, do you know,
and he generally asks me to write poems for him when he gets into that
state. I have written as many as 137 odes in one month on his behalf."
"Good gracious," I replied, "and does he pay you well for them?"
"Pay me!" exclaimed the Jubilee Rhymester, staring at me in surprise.
"Of course not. Do people ever get paid for writing poetry?"
"Why, yes, to be sure they do," I answered.
"Well, I've never heard of such a thing in all my life," said the
Jubilee Rhymester; "I always thought that poets had to pay to have
their verses used at all, and that that was why they were always so
poor while they were alive. Of course I knew that people sometimes
made a fuss about them after they were dead, but I have never heard
of such a thing as a live poet being paid for his work."
"Nonsense," I replied; "I believe that quite a lot of money is
sometimes paid by the magazines and other papers for poems and
verses."
"Well, I am delighted to hear it," said the Jubilee Rhymester, "and I
shall certainly start writing to-morrow. I have no doubt whatever that
I shall make my fortune before I go back to Zum."
Shortly after this Mrs. Putchy announced that supper was served, and
a little later my guests retired to rest, being thoroughly tired out
with their long journey. I sat up in my study a little while longer to
smoke a pipe, but was just thinking of going to bed when there was a
tap at the door and the Doctor-in-Law entered.
"I say, I thought I had better come and arrange with you about money
matters," he said; "I didn't like to mention such things before the
others. Now then," he continued, "how much are you going to pay us for
staying with you?"
"Pay _you_!" I gasped. "What on earth do you mean?"
"Well, you see, it will be a great thing for you to have such
distinguished visitors, don't you know, and you ought to be quite
willing to pay liberally for the honour," said the Doctor-in-Law,
smiling amiably.
Now Girlie had told me what a greedy, avaricious person the
Doctor-in-Law really was, despite his benevolent appearance, but this
cool cheek almost took my breath away. I was determined, however, to
let him see at once that I was not to be imposed upon, so I said as
firmly as I could, "Now, look here, Mr. Doctor-in-Law, please understand
once and for all, that as you were all so kind to my little friend
Girlie when she was at Why, I am quite willing to entertain his Majesty
the Wallypug, and the rest of you, to the very best of my ability, but
as for paying you for being here, the idea is absurd--impossible!"
[Illustration: "ID QUIDE GAVE BE A TURN"]
Just then a terrific hullabaloo in the passage caused us both to run
to the door. We could hear that the noise proceeded from the bathroom,
and, hurrying to the door, we found A. Fish, Esq., sitting up in the
water shouting for help, while Mrs. Mehetable Murchison and a whole
group of her feline friends were out on the tiles, glaring through the
window.
"Dear be, dear be," panted the Fish, when he saw us, "I'b so
frighteded, just look at all those cats. I had beed to sleeb ad was
just dreabig that sobeone was sayig, 'Mrs. Behetable Burchison is _so_
fod of fish, and we ofted have fish for didder,' whed I woke ub and
saw all those horrible cats lookig id ad the widdow; id quide gave be
a turn. Do drive theb away please."
We soon did this, and, pulling down the blinds, we left A. Fish, Esq.,
to his dreams and soon afterwards retired to rest ourselves.