[Illustration]
CHANCY MOUNTEBANK DEPHOOL FLEA, THE PRINCE OF
BAMBOOZLERS.—HIS WONDERFUL PATRIOTISM IN GOING ABROAD
EVERY SUMMER.—THE DOGS FIND THEMSELVES HEIRS TO GREATER
LIBERTY THAN THEY THOUGHT FOR.—GREAT SUCCESS OF THE
BAMBOOZLE.
THEN arose President Chancy Mountebank Dephool Flea, and, after telling
his flea friends in a cautionary whisper not to laugh or in any other
way “give away” the Bamboozle, advanced with a hop, a skip and a jump
to the front and ordered the loud-noise-producing instruments to play
up, and the pretty cloths to be waved on high, which, having been done,
quite took away the sadness of the dogs and put them in great good
humor. Then he stood on his head, and danced on one leg, and turned
several somersaults backwards and forwards, and grinned and smiled, and
told the dogs some very facetious stories and jokes, which caused them
to howl with delirious joy, and declare that that day was the happiest
one they had known in many years, and that Chancy Mountebank was,
without exception, the funniest fool of a flea they had ever seen, God
bless him.
Then he walked upside down across the stage, which made the dogs howl
still more, and then advanced to the front and said to the dogs:
“Fellow citizens of this great and prosperous country [great surprise
amongst the dogs and much winking amongst the Bamboozlers and other
fleas], the highly favored of heaven and the envy of the whole world
[great astonishment of the dogs as the fact dawns upon them], land of
the free and home of the brave [uncontrollable tittering amongst the
Bamboozling Committee as they lower their heads to hide it, and remarks:
“aint he a dandy?” “he’s away ahead of you, brother Blatherskite, in the
art of dog fooling,” and “the Lord is with us,” from One a Maker of long
prayers]. My theme to-day is Liberty, glorious Liberty. My dear fellow
citizens, ye have no idea of the incomparable heritage of honor and
glory and blessing ye have in the fact that ye have been born and are
privileged to live in this wonderful free town and country [tremendous
agitation and delight amongst the dogs at this new discovery, which,
coming upon their empty stomachs, caused several of the more famished
and attenuated to drop dead].
“The very fact that ye were born to freedom, and have been used to
it all your lives, renders you unable to properly appreciate your
incomparable blessing; for, as the proverbs have it, ‘The blessings
we have we value not,’ and ‘We never value the water till the well
runs dry.’ Our beloved fellow citizens there, who have just fallen
dead, would have been alive now had they daily habituated themselves
to thankfulness and the proper estimation of their privileges. But
if ye had had the opportunities as I have had of comparing your lot
in this highly favored land, with that of the dogs in the rest of
the world beyond the pond, your hearts would swell to bursting with
infinite gratitude, and your tongues, attuned to thankfulness, would
wag with an everlasting _Jubilate Deo_. [Tears of remorse and penitence
well up in the eyes of the dogs at this, and cries of “Lord, make us
more thankful,” are heard everywhere, while Grandadhat and Mak Tinley
snicker and tickle each other, and ask Carnivorous what he thinks of
“Our Chancy,” to which Andronicus replies, “I envy him; his polished and
elegant way of lying is as far above my coarse and clumsy way as the
smoothness of velvet is above the roughness of sandpaper.” And One a
Maker of long prayers, says, “It’s as good as a Means of Grace.” ]
“Oh, my dear fellow citizens, ye know that I am the flea that goeth and
cometh over the pond every year. For many years I have regarded it as a
sacred duty I owe to God and my beloved native country, to go away over
the pond every Summer, partly, and as a minor consideration, to recruit
my health and obtain a little rest from my terribly exhausting duty of
making myself and certain of my fellow fleas wealthy—oh, my beloved
dogs, ye have not the slightest idea of what it is to bear the burdens
and responsibilities of being rich [a voice far away to the rear: “True,
true”], and the tremendous strain and wear and tear of brain and body
it costs to make wealth. Be thankful that God has not called you to the
task [the voice in the rear: “You’ll take care that God doesn’t call us
to that!” Confusion, and cries of “Put him out!” and anxious looks on
the countenances of the fleas.]
“As I was saying when that unseemly interruption took place, I go
over the pond, partly, and as a minor consideration, for my health,
but primarily, and as a major consideration, that I may look upon and
impress upon my mind the horrible misery, poverty, destitution and
enslavement of the masses of dogs in the foreign countries. Oh, how
dreadful it is there! Hunger is the perpetual condition. Rapacious,
cruel, merciless rulers tax them to death. Between rich and poor there
is a great gulf fixed, so that those who are born poor dogs live and
die poor. In those dark and enslaved countries a dog knows he is a dog,
and can never rise to be anything higher. Such instances as that of our
fellow citizen and friend, Andronicus Carnivorous, who began life here
as a low-down dog, and by dint of industry, skill and the boundless
opportunities which we in this country offer to all, lifted himself up
from the rank in which he was born, and became transformed into as big
a sucker as any of us, could never happen there, where opportunities of
dogs to rise in the world and become Suckers are by infamous class laws
denied them. But here in this enlightened land, where we have no kings,
and by that _ne plus ultra_ of all wisdom, the Constitution, fleas and
dogs, rich and poor, black and white, are all equal; the opportunities
for advancement are countless and open to each and all, and if any dog
is poor and hungry, it is all the fault of his own incompetency and
laziness.
“In this great free land there is not—there cannot be—any unrighteous
wealth [a look of superlative virtue on Andronicus’ countenance, and a
glory on the transfigured face of One a Maker of long prayers and short
wages, as he rolls up his seventh-day eye towards heaven]. The very
fact that one has wealth is proof absolute that the possessor thereof
deserves it, since the opportunity to acquire is open equally to all.
_Every dog_ may in this free country, by dint of virtue and industry,
become an eminent and wealthy sucker and have thousands of dogs for his
nourishment [puzzled looks of hope and new encouragement on the faces of
the dogs as they try, mentally, to comprehend the glorious possibility
of _every_ dog doing that; and Grandadhat mutters to De Little Wit
Blatherskite: “My, but Chancy gave them a stiff ’un to swallow then,”
and the Blatherskite replies: “Truly he did, my brother, but he is the
joker that can do it.” ]
“Yes, my noble fellow citizens, my whole object in going every year
across the pond is, as I said, that I may see the hell of degradation
dogs have over there, and become horrified, so that at the end of my
sojourn I am so disgusted at the inequalities and class distinctions,
and the brutal tyranny of the rich over the poor, that I am properly
grateful to God for the precious privileges He has given us here, and am
profoundly thankful to get back again to Home, Home, Sweet, Sweet Home,
for there’s no place like Home, be it ever so humble, like Home, Sweet
Home.
“Oh, my dear friends, you have not the slightest idea of the disgust
with which those annual four months’ contemplation of foreign poverty,
tyranny, aristocracy and royalty fill my soul, neither can ye conceive
the agony of impatience that then takes possession of me to tread
again the soil of my native land, this land, whose pure, sweet air of
Freedom is instant death to every form of injustice and tyranny; where
the inalienable right of every dog to life, liberty and the pursuit
of happiness is guaranteed to him by the Constitution and equal laws;
where, under the folds of the Flag that makes us free, every dog dwells
in peace, plenty and safety, none daring to make him afraid; land where
there are no kings, lords or castes of any sort; where dogs and fleas
breathe the common air of Heaven; land of the pilgrim’s pride, land
where our fathers died [the voice in the rear again: “Yes, and where
their children are dying of starvation.” Confusion, and a spasm of fear
amongst the fleas, and cries of “Put him out” ], from every mountain side
let Freedom ring.
“Oh, my fellow citizens, I advise every one of you to save up and
perform the sacred duty of going over the pond every Summer and getting
horrified with the sight of foreign poverty and tyranny, so that ye may
come home loaded to the very muzzle with thankfulness to God that He has
so mercifully chosen us from amongst the dogs of the earth to shower
His infinite bounties on. Nothing has such a tendency to make noble,
thankful citizens of this grandest of all grand republics as going
abroad for a few months during the hot weather.”
At the close of this grand piece of bamboozling oratory, the dogs made
a supreme effort, and gave a grand howl of acclaim that made the
welkin ring, and caused several passing clouds to burst into rain by
reason of the concussion. The loud-noise-producing instruments started
up, the pretty cloths were waved on high, and everything proclaimed
the mad delight of the dogs at the wonderful discovery by their lean
and famine-devoured selves that they were all free and equal, and the
particular pets of Heaven.
With the exception of a few growlers at the rear, who audibly remarked
that “If God had given them less Freedom and more Victuals it would
have looked better of Him,” and who were promptly hustled out of the
crowd, all the dogs were delighted, and declared that Chancy Mountebank
Dephool Flea was the finest and most elegant truth-teller in the
world and should henceforth be honored as “Our Chancy.” And as he
took his seat the whole Committee of Bamboozlers, and all the other
fleas, congratulated him that there were no flies on him either, and
One a Maker of long prayers and short wages, groaning within himself,
lifted up his seventh-day eye and said: “Verily the Lord is this day
blessing us with a great salvation,” to which De Little Wit Blatherskite
responded: “Yea, verily, brother; blessing us copiously. And why not,
brother? _We_ are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.”