A GRAND FINISH
Happy Aurora is a happy Aurora!
Hip, Hip, Hip, Hip, Hurrah! Hurrah!
_Dr Ram Kinoo Dutt (of Chittagong)._
On the summit of the Grand Stand might have been observed groups of
spectators eagerly awaiting the finish. Conspicuous amongst them were
Princess Petunia (most sumptuously attired) and her parent,
Merchant-prince Jones; and close by Duke and Duchess Dickinson,
following the classic contest through binocular glasses.
"_Poojah_ will prove to be the winner!... No, it is _Milky Way_!... They
are neck or nothing! It will be a deceased heat!" exclaimed the excited
populaces.
And the beauteous Petunia was as if seated upon the spike of suspense,
since Mr Bhosh's success was a _sine qua non_ to their union. Suddenly
came the glad shout: "The Favourite takes the cake with a canter!" and
Duchess Dickinson became pallid with anguish, for, rich as she was, she
could ill afford to become the loser of a cool million.
The shout was strictly veracious, for Mr Bhosh was ruling the roast by
half-a-head, and _Poojah_ was correspondingly behind. "_Macte virtute!_"
cried Princess Petunia, in the silvery tones of a highly-bred bell,
while she violently agitated her sun-umbrella: "O my beloved Bindabun,
do not fall behind at eleven o'clock!"
And, as though in answer to this appeal (which he did not overhear), she
beheld her triumphant suitor saluting the empress of his soul with
uplifted jockey-cap.
Alack! it was the fatal piece of politeness; since, to avoid falling
off, he was compelled to moderate the speed of his racer while
performing it, and Juggins, either repenting his good-nature, or unable
any longer to restrain the impetuosity of _Poojah_, was carried first
past the winning-pole, Mr Bhosh following on _Milky Way_ as the bad
second!
At this the Princess Petunia emitted a doleful scream; like Freedom,
which, as some poet informs us, "squeaked when Kockiusko (a Japanese
gentleman) fell," and suspended her animation for several minutes, while
the Duchess "grinned a horrible ghastly smile," as described by Poet
Milton in _Paradise Lost_, at Mr Bhosh's shocking defeat and her own
gain of a million, though all true sportsmen present deeply sympathised
with our hero that he should be thus wrecked in sight of port on account
of an ordinary act of courtesy to a female!
But Mr Bhosh preserved his withers as unwrung as though he possessed the
hide of a rhinoceros. "Honble Sir," said he, addressing the Judge, "I
humbly beg permission to claim this Derby race and lodge an objection
against my antagonist."
"On what grounds?" was the naturally astonished rejoinder.
"On the grounds," deliberately replied Chunder Bindabun, "that he
surreptitiously did pull his horse's head."
Juggins was too dumbfoundered to reply to the accusation, and several
spectators came forward to testify that they had personally witnessed
him curbing his steed, and--it being contrary to the _lex non scripta_
of turf etiquette to pull at a horse's head when he is winning--Juggins
was very ignominiously plucked by the Jockey's Club.
The Duchess made the desperate attempt to argue that, if Juggins was a
pot, Mr Bhosh was a kettle of equally dark complexion, since he also had
reined up before attaining the goal--but Chunder Bindabun was able
easily to show that he had done so, not with any intention to forfeit
his stakes, but merely to salute his betrothed, whereas Juggins had
pulled to prevent his horse from achieving the conquest.
So, to Mr Bhosh's inexpressible delight, the Derby Cup, full as an egg
with golden sovereigns, was awarded to him, and the notorious blue
ribbon was pinned by the judge upon his proud and heaving bosom.
But, as he was reverting, highly elated, to the side of his beloved
amidst the acclamations of the multitude, the disreputable Juggins had
the audacity to pluck his elbow and demand the promised _quid pro quo_.
"For what service?" inquired Chunder Bindabun in amazement.
"Why, did you not promise me the moiety of your fortune, honble Sir,"
was the reply, "if I allowed you to be the winner?"
Mr Bhosh was of an exceptionally mild, just disposition, but such a
piece of cheeky chicanery as this aroused his fiercest indignation and
rendered him cross as two sticks. "O contemptible trickster!" he said,
in terrific tones, "my promise (as thou knowest well) was on condition
that I was first past the winning-pole. Whereas--owing to thy perfidy--I
was only the bad second. Do not attempt to hunt with the hare and
run with hounds. Depart to lower regions!"
[Illustration: THE NOTORIOUS BLUE RIBBON WAS PINNED BY THE JUDGE
UPON HIS PROUD AND HEAVING BOSOM (Illustration VIII)]
And Juggins slinked into obscurity with fallen chops.
Benevolent and forbearing readers, this unassuming tale is near its
_finis_. Owing to his brilliant success at the Derby, Mr Bhosh was now
rolling on cash, and, as the prediction of the Astrologer-Royal was
fulfilled, there was no longer any objection to his union with the
Princess Jones, with whom he accordingly contracted holy matrimony, and
now lives in great splendour at Shepherd's Bush, since all his friends
earnestly besought him that he was not to return to India. He therefore
naturalised himself as a full-blooded British, and further adopted a
coat-of-arms from the Family Herald, with a splendidly lofty crest, and
the motto "_Sans Peur et Sans Reproche_." ("Not being funky myself, I do
not reproach others with said failing"--_free translation_.)
But what of the wicked Duchess? I have to record that, being unable to
pay the welsher her bet of a million pounds, she was solemnly
pronounced a bankruptess and incarcerated (by a striking instance of the
tit-for-tat of Fate) in the identical Old Bailey cell to which she had
consigned Chunder Bindabun!
And in her case the gaoler's fair daughter, Miss Caroline, did not
exhibit the same softheartedness. Mr Bhosh and his Princess-bride, being
both of highly magnanimous idiosyncrasies, for some time visited their
relentless foe in her captivity, carrying her fruit and flowers and
sweets of inexpensive qualities, but were received in such a cold,
standoffish style that they soon discontinued such thankless civilities.
As for _Milky Way_, she is still hale and flourishing, though she has
never since displayed the phenomenal speed of her first (and probably
her last) Derby race. She may often be seen in the vicinity of
Shepherd's Bush, harnessed to a small basketchaise, in which are Mr and
Mrs Bhosh and some of their blooming progenies.
Here, with the Public's kind permission, we will leave them, and
although this trivial and unpretentious romance can claim no merit
except its undeviating fidelity to nature, I still venture to think
that, for sheer excitement and brilliancy of composition, &c, it will be
found, by all candid judges, to compare rather favourably with more
showy and meretricious fictions by overrated English novelists.
END
OF
A BAYARD FROM BENGAL.
_N.B.--I cannot conscientiously recommend the Indulgent Reader to
proceed any further--for reasons which, should he do so, will be
obvious. H. B. J._
THE PARABLES OF PILJOSH
FREELY RENDERED INTO ENGLISH FROM THE ORIGINAL STYPTIC WITH INTRODUCTION
AND NOTES BY H. B. JABBERJEE, B.A.
INTRODUCTION
I shall begin by begging that it may not be supposed either that _I_ am
the Author or even the Translator of the appended fables!
The plain truth of the matter is that I am far indeed from standing agog
with amazement at their literary or other excellences, and inclined
rather to award them the faint damnation of a very mediocre eulogy.
But it so happens that the actual translator is the same young English
friend who kindly furnished me with a few selected poetic extracts for
my Society novel, and has earnestly entreated me (as the _quid pro
quo_!) to compose an introduction and notes for his own effusion,
alleging that it is a _sine qua non_ nowadays for all first class
Classics to be issued with introduction, notes and appendix by some
literary knob--otherwise they speedily become obsolete and still-born.
Therefore I readily consented to oblige him, although I am no _au fait_
in the Styptic dialect, and cannot therefore be held answerable for the
accuracy of my friend's translation, which he admits himself is of a
rather free description.
Of the Philosopher who composed these Proverbs or Fables little is
known, even in his own country, except that (as all Scholiasts are
aware) he was born on the 1st of April 1450 (old style), and for some
years filled the important and responsible post of Archi-mandrake of
Paraprosdokian. He probably met with a violent end.
I shall not undertake to provide a note to _every_ parable, but only in
cases where I think that the Parabolist is not quite as luminous as the
nose on one's face, and needs the services of an experienced
interpreter. H. B. J.
The Butterfly visited so many flowers that she fell sick of a surfeit of
nectar. She called it "Nervous Breakdown."
* * * * *
"Instead of vainly lamenting over those we have lost," said the young
Cuckoo severely, to the Father and Mother Sparrow, "it seems to me that
you should be rejoicing that _I_ am still spared to you!"
_Note._--A mere plagiaristic adaptation of the trite adage
concerning the comparative values of birds in the hand and in the
bush.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"I am old enough to be thy Grandfather!" the Egg informed the Chicken.
"In that case," replied the Chicken, "it is high time thou bestirredst
thyself!"
"Not so!" said the Egg, "since the longer I remain quiescent, the fitter
I shall be for the career that is destined for me."
"Indeed," inquired the Chicken, "and what may _that_ be?"
"_Politics!_" answered the Egg with importance.
And the Chicken pondered long over that saying.
_Note._--I must confess to following the Chicken's precedent,
without arriving at any solution. For, logically, an Egg must be the
junior of any Chicken. And again, even for parabolical purposes, it
is far-fetched to represent an Egg as a potential Member of
Parliament. On the whole, I am not entirely satisfied that my young
friend is so proficient in acquaintance with Cryptic as he has
represented to me.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
There is only one thing that irritateth a woman more than the man who
doth not understand her, and that is the man who doth.
* * * * *
A certain Artificer constructed a mechanical Serpent which was so
marvellously natural that it bit him in the back. "Had I but another
hour to live," he lamented in his last agonies, "I would have patented
the invention!"
The Woman was so determined to be independent of Man that she
voluntarily became the slave of a Machine.
_Note._--I do not understand the meaning of the Fabulist here.--H.
B. J.
* * * * *
"She used to be so fresh; but she is gone off terribly since I first
knew her!" said the Slug of the Strawberry.
_Note._--See my remark on the last parable.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"Now, I call that downright Plagiarism!" observed the Ass, when he heard
the Lion roar.
"A cheery laugh goes a long way in this world!" remarked the Hyena.
"But a bright smile goes further still!" said the Alligator, as he took
him in.
_Note._--If the honble Philosopher is censuring here merely the
assumption of hilarity and not ordinary quiet facetiousness, I am
entirely with him. But I rather regard him as a total deficient in
Humour and fanatically opposed to it in any form.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"I trust I have now made myself perfectly clear?" observed the
Cuttlefish, after discharging his ink.
* * * * *
The Cockney was assured that, if he placed the Sea-shell to his ear, he
would hear the murmur of Ocean.
But all he caught distinctly was the melody of negro minstrels.
* * * * *
"It is some satisfaction to feel that we have both been sacrificed in a
thoroughly deserving cause!" said the Brace-button, complacently, to the
Threepenny Bit, as they met in the Offertory Bag.
_Note._--This must be some local allusion, for I
do not know what sort of receptacle an Offertory
Bag may be, or why such articles should be inserted
therein.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
Mistrust the Bridegroom who appeareth at his wedding with
sticking-plaster on his chin [or "_without_ sticking-plaster," &c.--the
Styptic is capable of either interpretation.--_Trans._].
_Note._--Then I will humbly say that it must be a peculiarly elastic
tongue. But in _either_ form the Proverb is meaningless.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"What!--My Original dead?" cried the Statue. "Then I have lost all
chance of ever becoming celebrated!"
_Note._--This is an obvious mistranslation, since a Statue is only
erected when the Original is already celebrated.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"What is your favourite Perfume?" they asked the Hog, and he answered
them, "Pigwash."
"How vulgar!" exclaimed the Stoat. "_Mine_ is Patchouli!"
But the Fox said that, in _his_ opinion, the less scent one used the
better.
_Note._--This merely records the well-known physiological fact that
some persons are born without the olfactory sense. Emperor
Vespasian was accustomed to declare (erroneously) that "pecunia non
olet."--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"I wonder they allow such a cruel contrivance as that 'Catch 'em alive,
oh!' paper!" said the Spider tearfully, as she sat in her web.
_Note._--From this we learn that there may be a soft spot in the
most unpromising quarters. Even Alexander the Great, who spent the
blood of his troops like pocket money, is recorded to have wept at a
review on suddenly reflecting that all his soldiers would probably
be deceased in a hundred years. It is barely possible that Piljosh
may have been a spectator of this incident.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
A certain Pheasant was pluming herself upon having become a member of
the Anti-Sporting League.
"Softly, friend!" said a wily old Cock, "for, should this League of
thine succeed in its object, every man's hand would be against us both
by day and night; whereas, at present, our lives are protected all night
by vigilant keepers, and spared all day by our owner and his guests,
who are incapable of shooting for nuts!"
_Note._--This is a glaring _non sequitur_ and fallacy. I myself
have never shot for nuts--but it does not necessarily follow that
any pheasant would remain intact after I discharged my
rifle-barrel!--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"It is not what we _look_ that signifieth," said the Scorpion
virtuously, "it is what we _are_!"
_Note._--True enough--but the moral would have been improved by
attributing the saying to some insect of more innocuous character
than a Scorpion. Perhaps this is so in the original Styptic, for, as
I have said, I cannot repose implicit faith in my young friend's
version.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"I have composed the most pathetic poem in the world!" declared the
Poet.
"How can'st thou be sure of that," he was asked.
"Because," he replied, "I recited it to the Crocodile, and she could not
refrain from shedding tears!"
* * * * *
"It is gratifying to find oneself appreciated at last," said the
Cabbage, when the Cigar Merchant labelled him as a Cabana.
* * * * *
"Don't talk to _me_ about Cactus," said the Ostrich contemptuously to
the Camel. "Insipid stuff, _I_ call it! No--for real flavour and
delicacy, give me a pair of Sheffield scissors!"
* * * * *
"The accommodation might be more luxurious, it's true," remarked the
philosophic Mouse, when he found himself in the Trap, "but, after all,
it's not as if I was going to stay here _long_!"
* * * * *
"People tell me he can shine when he chooses," said the Extinguisher of
the Candle. "All _I_ know is, he's positively dull whenever he's with
_me_!"
* * * * *
There was once a Musical Box which played but one tune, to which its
owner was never weary of listening. But, after a time, he desired a
novelty, and could not rest until he had exchanged the barrel for
another. However, he sickened of the second tune sooner than of the
first, and so he exchanged it for a third, which he liked not at all.
Accordingly he commanded that the Box should return to the first tune of
all--and lo! this had become an abomination unto his ears, nor could he
conceive how he had ever been able to endure it!
So the Musical Box was laid upon the shelf, and the Owner procured for
himself a cheap mouth-organ which could play any air that was suggested
to it, and thus became an established favourite.
_Note._--This is apparently designed to illustrate the ficklety of
the Musical Character.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"_Do_ come in!" snapped the severed Shark's Head to the Ship's Cat. "As
you perceive, I am carrying on business as usual during the
alterations."
* * * * *
The Bulbul had no sooner finished her song than the Bullfrog began to
make profuse apologies for having left his music at home.
* * * * *
To a Butterscotch Machine the Penny and the Tin Disc are alike.
_Note._--Surely not if an official is looking on!--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"My dears," said the Converted Cannibal reverently to his Wife and
Family, as they sat down to their Baked Missionary, "do not let us omit
to ask a blessing!"
* * * * *
There is but one Singer whom it is futile to encore--and that is a Dying
Swan.
* * * * *
"I am doing a series of 'Notable Nests' for 'Sylvan Society,'" said the
insinuating Serpent, on finding the Ringdove at home, "and I should so
much like to include _you_." "You are very kind," said the Ringdove, in
a flutter, "but I can assure you that there is no more in my poor
little eggs than in any other bird's!" "That may be," replied the
Serpent, "but I must live _somehow_!"
* * * * *
"No outsiders there--only just their own particular set!" said the
Cocksparrow, when he came home after having been to tea with the Birds
of Paradise.
* * * * *
The Elephant was dying of starvation, and a kind-hearted person
presented him with an acidulated drop.
_Note._--It is well-nigh incredible that any Philosopher should be
so ignorant of Natural History as to imagine that any Elephant would
accept an acid drop, even if it was on its last legs for want of
nutrition.
The conclusion of this anecdote would seem to be either lost, or
unfit for publication.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
There was once a famous Violinist who serenaded his Mistress every
evening, performing the most divine melodies upon his instrument.
But all the while she was straining her ears to listen to a piano-organ
round the corner which was playing "Good-bye, Dolly Gray!"
* * * * *
The Performing Lioness kisses her Trainer on the mouth--but only in
public.
* * * * *
The Candle complained bitterly of the unpleasantness of seeing so many
scorched moths in her vicinity.
* * * * *
"I have taken such a fancy to thee," said the Hawk genially to the
Field-Mouse, "that I am going to put thee into a really good thing."
And he opened his beak.
* * * * *
There are persons who have no sense of the fitness of things.
Like the Grasshopper, who insisted on putting the Snail up for the
Skipping Club.
* * * * *
The Cat scratched the Dog's nose out of sheer playfulness--but she had
no time to explain.
* * * * *
"After all, it _is_ pleasant to be at home again!" said the Eagle's
feathers on the shaft that pierced him.
But the Eagle's reply is not recorded.
_Note._--Poet Byron also mentions this incident.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
A certain Painter set himself to depict a lovely landscape. "See!" he
cried, as he exhibited his canvas to a Passing Stranger, "doth not this
my picture resemble the scene with exactitude?"
"Since thou desirest to know," was the reply, "thou seemest to me to
have portrayed nothing but a manure heap!"
"And am _I_ to blame," exclaimed the indignant Painter, "if a manure
heap chanced to be immediately in front of me?"
* * * * *
Before a Man marrieth a Woman he delighteth to describe unto her all his
doings--even the most unimportant.
But, after marriage, he considereth that such talk may savour too much
of egotism.
_Note._-This is very very shallow. I have never experienced any such
compunctiousness with my own wives.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"I shouldn't have minded so much," said the Bee, with some bitterness,
just before breathing his last in the honey-pot, "only it happens to be
my own make!"
* * * * *
"Is the White Rabbit beautiful?" someone inquired of the Albino Rat.
"She might be passable enough," replied the Rat, "but for one most
distressing deformity. She has pink eyes!"
* * * * *
When the Ass was asked about his Cousin the Zebra, he said: "Do not
speak about him--for he has disgraced us all. Never before has there
been any eccentricity in _our_ family!"
* * * * *
The full-blown Sausage professeth to have forgotten the days of his
puppyhood.
* * * * *
"_Will_ you allow me to pass?" said the courteous Garden Roller to the
Snail.
* * * * *
Had anyone met the Red Herring in the sea and foretold that he would one
day be pursued by Hounds across a difficult country, the Herring would
have accounted him but a vain babbler.
Yet so it fell out!
_Note._--I shrewdly suspect that my young friend has made the rather
natural mistake of substituting the word "Red Herring" for "Flying
Fish."
It is not absolutely incredible that one of the latter department
should fly inland and be chased by Dogs--but even Piljosh should be
aware that no Herring could pop off in such a way.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
An Officious Busybody, perceiving a Phoenix well alight, promptly
extinguished her by means of a convenient watering-pot.
* * * * *
"Had you refrained from this uncalled for interference," said the justly
irate Bird, "I should by this time be rising gloriously from my
ashes--instead of presenting the ridiculous appearance of a partially
roasted Fowl!"
_Note._--I can offer no explanation of this allegory, except to
remind the reader that the Phoenix is the notorious symbol for a
fire insurance.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"Alas!" sighed the Learned Pig, while expiring from inflammation of the
brain, brought on by a laborious endeavour to ascertain the sum of two
and two, "Why, _why_ was I cursed with Intellect?"
* * * * *
"I shall know better another time!" gasped the Fish, as he lay in the
Landing-net.
* * * * *
A certain Merchant sold a child a sharp sword. "Thou hast done wrong in
this," remonstrated a Sage, "since the child will assuredly wound either
himself or some other."
"_I_ shall not be responsible," cried the Merchant, "for, in selling the
sword, I did recommend the child to protect the point with a cork!"
* * * * *
A certain grain of Millet fell out of a sack in which it was being
carried into the City, and was soon trampled in the dust.
"I am lost!" cried the Millet-seed. "Yet I do not repine so much for
myself as for those countless multitudes who, deprived of me, are now
doomed to perish miserably of starvation!"
* * * * *
"I have given up dancing," said the Tongs, "for they no longer dance
with the Elegance and Grace that were universal in _my_ young days!"
* * * * *
"But for the Mercy of Providence," said the Fox, piously, to the Goose
whom he found in a trap that had been set for himself, "our respective
situations might now be reversed!"
* * * * *
"She really sang quite nicely," remarked the Cuckoo, after she had been
to hear the Nightingale one evening, "but it's a pity her range is so
sadly limited!"
* * * * *
The Mendicant insisted on making his Will:
"But what hast _thou_ to leave when thou diest?" cried the Scribe.
"As much as the richest," he replied; "for when I die, I leave the
entire World!"
_Note._--This is (if not incorrectly translated) a grotesque and
puerile allegation. The veriest tyro is aware that when a
Millionaire hops the twig of his existence, he leaves more behind
him than a mere Mendicant!--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"Forgive me," said the Toad to the Swallow, "but, although you may not
be aware of it, you are flying on totally false principles!"
"Am I?" said the Swallow meekly. "I'm so sorry! Do you mind showing me
how _you_ do it?"
"I don't fly myself," said the Toad, with an air of superiority. "I've
other things to do--but I have thoroughly mastered the theory of the
Art."
"Then teach _me_ the theory!" said the Swallow.
"Willingly," said the Toad; "my fee--to _you_--will be two worms a
lesson."
* * * * *
"I can't bear to think that no one will weep for me when I am gone!"
said the sentimental Fly, as he flew into the eye of a Moneylender.
_Note.--Cf._ Poet Byron: "'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will
mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come!"--H. B. J.
* * * * *
A certain Cockatrice, feeling sociably inclined, entered a Mother's
Meeting, bent upon making himself agreeable--but was greatly mortified
to find himself but coldly received.
"Women _are_ so particular about trifles!" he reflected bitterly. "I
know I said 'Good Afternoon' with my mouth full--but, as I explained, I
had just been lunching at the Infant School!"
* * * * *
"I want to be _useful!_" said the Silkworm, as she sat down and "set" a
sock for a Decayed Centipede.
* * * * *
A Traveller demanded hospitality from fourteen Kurds, who were occupying
one small tent.
"Enter freely," said the Kurds, "but we must warn thee that thou wilt
find the atmosphere exceedingly unpleasant--for, by some inadvertence,
we have greased our boots from a jar of Attar of Roses!"
_Note._--Once more I do not entirely fathom the Fabulist's
meaning--unless it is that such a valuable cosmetic as Attar of
Roses may become so deteriorated as to offend even the nostril organ
of a Kurd.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
A certain Basilisk having attained great success in petrifying all who
came under his personal observation, there was a Scheme set afoot to
present him with some Token of popular esteem and regard.
"If we give him _anything_" said the Fox, who was consulted as to the
form of the proposed Testimonial, "I would suggest that it should take
the shape of a pair of Smoked Spectacles."
_Note._--The Satire here, at least, is obvious enough. Smoked
spectacles are a very inexpensive gift.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"How truly the Poet sang that: 'we may rise on stepping-stones of our
dead selves to higher things!'" remarked the Chicken's Merrythought,
when it found itself apotheosised into a Penwiper.
_Note._--A young lady, that shall be nameless, once presented me
with a very similar penwipe, which represented a Church of England
ecclesiastic in surplice and mortar-cap.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"I shall not have perished in vain!" gasped an altruistic Cockroach,
immediately before expiring from an overdose of Insect Powder, "for,
after this fatality, the Owners of the House will doubtless be more
careful how they leave such stuff about!"
_Note._--British Cockroaches, however, resemble Emperor Mithridates
in being totally impervious to beetle poison.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
The Sheep was so exceedingly tough and old, that the Wolf had thoughts
of becoming a Vegetarian.
_Note._--When we see some person attaining Centenarian longevity, we
are foolishly inclined to fancy that, by adopting their diet, we
also are to become Methusalems!--H. B. J.
* * * * *
A certain Ant that had lost its All owing to the sudden collapse of the
Bank in which its savings were invested, applied to a Grasshopper for a
small temporary advance.
"I am sorry, dear boy," chirpily replied the Grasshopper, "that,
although I am playing to big business every evening, I have not put by a
single grain. However, I will get up a _matinee_ for your benefit."
This he did with such success that, next winter, the Ant was once more
sufficiently prosperous to discharge his obligation by offering the
Grasshopper a letter to the Charity Organisation Society!
_Note._--The application of this is that a kind action is never
really thrown away.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"I never feel quite myself till I've had a good bath!" said the Bird
whom an elderly Lady had purchased from a Street Boy as a Goldfinch.
And behold, when the Bird came out of its saucer of water, it was a
Sparrow!
_Note._--Like many Philosophers, Piljosh would seem to have had no
great liking for ablutions. But water which could transform a
Goldfinch into a Sparrow must previously have been enchanted by some
Magician, so that our Parabolist's shaft misses fire in this
instance (as indeed in many others!). Possibly, however, his
Translator has once more proved a Traitor!--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"Pride not yourself upon your Lustre and Symmetry," said the Jet
Ear-ring austerely to the Pearl, "for, after all, you owe your beauty to
nothing but the morbid secretions of a Diseased Oyster!"
"I am sorry to spoil your moral," retorted the Pearl with much suavity,
"but, like yourself, I happen to be Artificial."
_Note._--Inhabitants of glassy mansions should not indulge in
lapidation.--H. B. J.
* * * * *
"Come!" said the Peacock's Feather proudly to the Fly-flapper and the
Tin Squeaker, as the final illumination flickered out and they lay in
the gutter together, limp and exhausted with their exertions in tickling
and generally exasperating inoffensive strangers. "They may say what
they please--but at least we have shown them that the Spirit of
Patriotism is not yet extinct!"
_Note._--This must refer to some Cryptic customs prevalent in the
Parabolist's time. But I do not clearly apprehend what connection
either tickling, fly-flapping, or squeaking can have with
Patriotism!--H. B. J.
* * * * *
LAST WORDS
Here conclude the Parables of Piljosh, together with the present volume.
That the former can possibly obtain honble mention when compared with
the apologues of Plato, AEsop, Corderius Nepos, or even Confucius, I
cannot for a moment anticipate, and none can be more sensible than my
humble self how very poor a figure they cut in proximity to the
production of my own pen!
However, indulgent critics will please not saddle my unoffending head
with the responsibility, the fact being that I was vehemently advised
that, without some meretricious padding of this sort, my Romance would
not be of sufficient robustness to produce a boom.
But should "A Bayard from Bengal" unfortunately fail to render the
Thames combustible, I should rather attribute the cause to its having
been unwisely diluted with such milk and watery material as the Parables
of Piljosh.
So, leaving the decision to the impartial and unanimous verdict of
popular approval, I subscribe myself,
The Reader's very obsequious and palpitating Servant,
HURRY BUNGSHO JABBERJEE, B.A., etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
PRINTED BY TURNBULL AND SPEARS, EDINBURGH
End of Project Gutenberg's A Bayard From Bengal, by Hurry Bungsho Jabberjee