A poet, wishing to remove from Shotterden to Camden Town, found himself
sadly encumbered with dreams and decided to give them away before he
left.
He started with the little cripple girl next door, to whom he gave two
splendid dreams of laughing gardens, and then went all round Shotterden
(it is not a very large town) giving away his dreams.
When he returned to his lodging, he found he had one dream left, so he
went to the policeman who always stood at the corner of the street, and
said: ‘I cannot understand it. I have one dream left, yet I think I have
given one to every person in the town, and to some I have given two.’
‘There is the Mayor--’ replied the policeman, doubtfully.
‘The very man! I had forgotten him!’ cried the Poet, and ran off to find
the Mayor.
The Mayor accepted the gift very reluctantly, and tried to get rid of
it, but it clung to him persistently, as dreams do. It was a good dream,
a dream of the white neck of a queen who died four thousand years ago,
but the Mayor did not want it.
As time went on, it weighed upon him more and more, and when he should
have been attending to Municipal Affairs or Opening a Bazaar, he found
his mind wandering, and he was for ever brooding on the dead queen.
Until one day, when the Council was discussing a new Byelaw to prevent
Children from playing in the Public Parks, he was asked to speak, and,
full of the dream, he burst into song, to the great astonishment of all
present. He was then asked to resign, which he did.
And now, hardly anyone ever calls or even leaves a card.