As an American citizen I want to thank you for your Papa's very
great kindness in dishcovering the United States. When I think
that if he hadn't I might have been born a Switzer or a French
John Darm it gives me a chill. I would have called on you to say
this in person if I'd had time, but we are going to sail tomorrow
for home and we're pretty busy packing up our carpet-bags and
eating our last meals on shore. If you ever feel like dishcovering
us on your own account and cross over the briny deep yourself,
don't fail to call on me at my home where I have a fine kitching
stove and an umbrella which will always be at your disposal.
Yours trooly,
THE UNWISEMAN, U. S. A.
Later in the evening to the same address was despatched another postal
reading:
P.S. If you happen to have an extra photograph of your Papa lying
around the house that you don't want with his ortygraph on it I
shall be glad to have you send it to me. I will have it framed
and hung up in the parlor alongside of General Washington and
President Roosevelt who have also been fathers of their country
from time to time.
Yours trooly,
THE UNWISEMAN, U. S. A.
"I'm glad I did that," said the Unwiseman when he told Mollie of his two
messages to Christopher, Jr. "I don't think people as a rule are careful
enough these days to show their thanks to other people who do things for
them. It don't do any harm to be polite in matters of that kind and some
time it may do a lot of good. Good manners ain't never out of place
anywhere anyhow."
In which praiseworthy sentiment I am happy to say both Mollie and
Whistlebinkie agreed.
The following day the travellers embarked on the steamer bound for New
York. This time, weary of his experience as a stowaway on the trip over,
the Unwiseman contented himself with travelling in his carpet-bag and
not until after the ship had passed along the Mediterranean and out
through the straits of Gibraltar, did he appear before his companions.
His first appearance upon deck was just as the coast of Africa was
fading away upon the horizon. He peered at this long and earnestly
through a small blue bottle he held in his hand, and then when the last
vestige of the scene sank slowly behind the horizon line into the sea,
he corked the bottle up tightly, put it into his pocket and turned to
Mollie and Whistlebinkie.
"Well," he said, "that's done--and I'm glad of it. I've enjoyed this
trip very much, but after all I'm glad I'm going home. Be it ever so
bumble there's no place like home, as the Bee said, and I'll be glad to
be back again where I can sleep comfortably on my kitchen-stove, with my
beloved umbrella standing guard alongside of me, and my trusty leak
looking down upon me from the ceiling while I rest."
"You missed a wonderful sight," said Mollie. "That Rock of Gibraltar was
perfectly magnificent."
"I didn't miss it," said the Unwiseman. "I peeked at it through the
port-hole and I quite agree with you. It is the cutest piece of rock
I've seen in a long time. It seemed almost as big to me as the boulder
in my back yard must seem to an ant, but I prefer my boulder just the
same. Gibrallyper's too big to do anything with and it spoils the view,
whereas my boulder can be rolled around the place without any trouble
and doesn't spoil anything. I suppose they keep it there to keep Spain
from sliding down into the sea, so it's useful in a way, but after all
I'm just as glad it's here instead of out on my lawn somewhere."
"What have you been doing all these days?" asked Mollie.
"O just keeping quiet," said the Unwiseman. "I've been reading up on
Christopher Columbus and--er--writing a few poems about him. He was a
wonderful man, Columbus was. He proved the earth was round when
everybody else thought it was flat--and how do you suppose he did it?"
"By sailin' around it," said Whistlebinkie.
"That was after he proved it," observed the Unwiseman, with the superior
air of one who knows more than somebody else. "He proved it by making an
egg stand up on its hind legs."
"What?" cried Mollie.
"I didn't know eggs had hind legs," said Whistlebinkie.
"Ever see a chicken?" asked the Unwiseman.
"Yes," said Whistlebinkie.
"Well, a chicken's only an advanced egg," said the Unwiseman.
"That's true," said Mollie.
"And chickens haven't got anything but hind legs, have they?" demanded
the old gentleman.
"Thass-a-fact," whistled Whistlebinkie.
"And Columbus proved it by making the egg stand up?" asked Mollie.
"That's what history tells us," said the Unwiseman. "All the Harvard and
Yale professors of the day said the earth was flat, but Columbus knew
better, so he just took an egg and proved it. That's one of the things
I've put in a poem. Want to hear it?"
"Indeed I do," said Mollie. "It must be interesting."
"It is--it's the longest poem I ever wrote," said the Unwiseman, and
seeking out a retired nook on the steamer's deck the droll old fellow
seated himself on a coil of rope and read the following poem to Mollie
and Whistlebinkie.