RIBSY.
The road was very dreary and dusty, and wound in and out in the most
tiresome way until it seemed to have no end to it, and Davy ran on and
on, half expecting at any moment to feel the Roc's great beak pecking at
his back. Fortunately his legs carried him along so remarkably well that
he felt he could run for a week; and, indeed, he might have done so if
he had not, at a sharp turn in the road, come suddenly upon a horse and
cab. The horse was fast asleep when Davy dashed against him, but he woke
up with a start, and, after whistling like a locomotive once or twice in
a very alarming manner, went to sleep again. He was a very
frowsy-looking horse, with great lumps at his knees and a long, crooked
neck like a camel's; but what attracted Davy's attention particularly
was the word "RIBSY" painted in whitewash on his side in large letters.
He was looking at this, and wondering if it were the horse's name, when
the door of the cab flew open and a man fell out, and, after rolling
over in the dust, sat up in the middle of the road and began yawning. He
was even a more ridiculous-looking object than the horse, being dressed
in a clown's suit, with a morning-gown over it by way of a top-coat,
and a field-marshal's cocked hat. In fact, if he had not had a whip in
his hand no one would ever have taken him for a cabman. After yawning
heartily he looked up at Davy, and said drowsily, "Where to?"
"To B.G.," said Davy, hastily referring to the Hole-keeper's letter.
"All right," said the cabman, yawning again. "Climb in, and don't put
your feet on the cushions."
Now, this was a ridiculous thing for him to say, for when Davy stepped
inside he found the only seats were some three-legged stools huddled
together in the back part of the cab, all the rest of the space being
taken up by a large bath-tub that ran across the front end of it. Davy
turned on one of the faucets, but nothing came out except some dust and
a few small bits of gravel, and he shut it off again, and, sitting down
on one of the little stools, waited patiently for the cab to start.
Just then the cabman put his head in at the window, and, winking at him
confidentially, said, "Can you tell me why this horse is like an
umbrella?"
"No," said Davy.
"Because he's used _up_," said the cabman.
"I don't think that's a very good conundrum," said Davy.
"So do I," said the cabman. "But it's the best one I can make with this
horse. Did you say N.B.?" he asked.
"No, I said B.G.," said Davy.
[Illustration: "THE CABMAN HAD CLIMBED UP ON TOP OF THE CAB AND WAS
THROWING STONES AT THE HORSE."]
"All right," said the cabman again, and disappeared from the window.
Presently there was a loud trampling overhead, and Davy, putting his
head out at the window, saw that the cabman had climbed up on top of the
cab and was throwing stones at the horse, which was still sleeping
peacefully.
"It's all right," said the cabman, cheerfully, as he caught sight of
Davy. "If he doesn't start pretty soon I'll give him some snuff. That
_always_ wakes him up."
"Oh! don't do that," said Davy, anxiously. "I'd rather get out and
walk."
"Well, I wish you would," said the cabman, in a tone of great relief.
"This is a very valuable stand, and I don't care to lose my place on
it;" and Davy accordingly jumped out of the cab and walked away.
Presently there was a clattering of hoofs behind him, and Ribsy came
galloping along the road, with nothing on him but his collar. He was
holding his big head high in the air, like a giraffe, and gazing proudly
about him as he ran. He stopped short when he saw the little boy, and,
giving a triumphant whistle, said cheerfully, "How are you again?"
It seemed rather strange to be spoken to by a cab-horse, but Davy
answered that he was feeling quite well.
"So am I," said Ribsy. "The fact is, that when it comes to beating a
horse about the head with a three-legged stool, if that horse is going
to leave at all, it's time he was off."
"I should think it was," said Davy, earnestly.
"You'll observe, of course, that I've kept on my shoes and my collar,"
said Ribsy. "It isn't genteel to go barefoot, and nothing makes a fellow
look so untidy as going about without a collar. The truth is," he
continued, sitting down in the road on his hind legs,--"the truth is,
I'm not an ordinary horse, by any means. I have a history, and I've
arranged it in a popular form, in six canters,--I mean cantos," he
added, hastily correcting himself.
"I'd like to hear it, if you please," said Davy, politely.
"Well, I'm a little hoarse,"--began Ribsy.
"I think you're a very big horse," said Davy, in great surprise.
"I'm referring to my voice," said Ribsy, haughtily. "Be good enough not
to interrupt me again;" and, giving two or three preliminary whistles to
clear his throat, he began:--
_It's very confining, this living in stables,
And passing one's time among wagons and carts;
I much prefer dining at gentlemen's tables,
And living on turkeys and cranberry tarts._
_I find with surprise that I'm constantly sneezing;
I'm stiff in the legs, and I'm often for sale;
And the blue-bottle flies, with their tiresome teasing,
Are quite out of reach of my weary old tail._
"By the way," said Ribsy, getting up and turning himself around, "what
does my tail look like?"
"I think," said Davy, after a careful inspection, "I think it looks
something like an old paint-brush."
"So I supposed," said Ribsy, gloomily, and, sitting down again, he went
on with his history:--
_As spry as a kid and as trim as a spider
Was I in the days of the Turnip-top Hunt,
When I used to get rid of the weight of my rider
And canter contentedly in at the front._
_I never was told that this jocular feature
Of mine was a trick reprehensibly rude,
And yet I was sold, like a commonplace creature,
To work in a circus for lodgings and food._
"I suppose you have never been a circus-horse?" said Ribsy, stopping
short in his verses again and gazing inquiringly at Davy.
"Never," said Davy.
"Then you don't know anything about it," said Ribsy. "Here we go
again:"--
_Pray why, if you please, should a capable charger
Perform on a ladder and prance in a show?
And why should his knees be made thicker and larger
By teaching him tricks that he'd rather not know?_
_Oh! why should a horse, for society fitted,
Be doomed to employment so utterly bad,
And why should a coarse-looking man be permitted
To dance on his back on a top-heavy pad?_
Here Ribsy paused once more, and Davy, feeling that he ought to make
some sort of an answer to such a lot of questions, said helplessly, "I
don't know."
"No more do I," said Ribsy, tossing his head scornfully.
_It made me a wreck, with no hope of improvement,
Too feeble to race with an invalid crab;
I'm wry in the neck, with a rickety movement
Peculiarly suited for drawing a cab._
_They pinch me with straps, and they bruise me with buckles,
They drive me too rapidly over the stones;--
A reason, perhaps, why a number of knuckles
Have lately appeared on my prominent bones._
"I see them," cried Davy, eagerly; "I thought they were corns."
"Thank you," said Ribsy, haughtily. "As the next verse is the last you
needn't trouble yourself to make any further observations."
_I dream of a spot which I used to roam over
In infancy's days, with a frolicsome skip,
Content with my lot, which was planted with clover,
And never annoyed by the crack of a whip._
_But I think my remarks will determine the question,
Of why I am bony and thin as a rail;
I'm off for some larks, to improve my digestion,
And point the stern moral conveyed by my tail._
Here Ribsy got upon his legs again, and, after a refreshing fillip with
his heels, cantered off along the road, whistling as he went. Two large
blue-bottle flies were on his back, and his tail was flying around,
with an angry whisk, like a pin-wheel; but, as he disappeared in the
distance, the flies were still sitting calmly on the ridge of his spine,
apparently enjoying the scenery.
Davy was about to start out again on his journey, when he heard a voice
shouting "Hi! Hi!" and, looking back, he saw the poor cabman coming
along the road on a brisk trot, dragging his cab after him. He had on
Ribsy's harness, and seemed to be in a state of tremendous excitement.
As he came up with Davy the door of the cab flew open again, and the
three-legged stools came tumbling out, followed by a dense cloud of
dust.
"Get in! Get in!" shouted the cabman, excitedly. "Never mind the dust;
I've turned it on to make believe we're going tremendously fast."
Davy hastily scrambled in, and the cabman started off again. The dust
was pouring out of both faucets, and a heavy shower of gravel was
rattling into the bath-tub; and, to make matters worse, the cabman was
now going along at such an astonishing speed that the cab rocked
violently from side to side, like a boat in a stormy sea. Davy made a
frantic attempt to shut off the dust, but it seemed to come faster and
faster, until he was almost choked, and by this time the gravel had
become as large as cherry-stones, and was flying around in the cab and
rattling about his ears like a little hail-storm. Now, all this was a
great deal more than Davy had bargained for, and it was so very
unpleasant that he presently sat down on the floor of the cab in the
hope of getting a little out of the way of the flying gravel. As he did
this the rocking motion became less violent, and then ceased altogether,
as though the cabman had suddenly come to a stop. Then the dust cleared
away, and Davy, to his surprise, found himself sitting in the road
directly in front of the little house that Jack built.
The cabman and his cab had vanished entirely, but, curiously enough, the
cab door was standing wide open in the wall of the house, just above the
porch, and in the opening stood the red Cow gazing down upon him, and
solemnly chewing, as before. The house had such a familiar look to him
that Davy felt quite at home; and, moreover, the Cow seemed quite like
an old acquaintance, compared with the other creatures he had met, and
he was just about to begin a friendly conversation with her, when she
suddenly stopped chewing, and said, "How did _you_ get here?"
"I came in a cab," said Davy. "We came along just behind the horse."
"People in cabs usually do," said the Cow; "leastwise I never heard of
any of 'em being ahead of him."
"But this horse was running away, you know," said Davy.
"Where was the cabman?" said the Cow, suspiciously.
"He was drawing the cab," said Davy.
"What!" exclaimed the Cow,--"while the horse was running away? Oh,
come, I say!"
"He was, truly," said Davy, laughing; "you never saw anything half so
ridiculous."
"I certainly never did--that I can remember," said the Cow; "but then,
you see, I haven't always been a cow."
"Really?" said Davy.
"Really," said the Cow, very solemnly. "The fact is, I've been changed."
"And what did you use to be?" said Davy, who was now fully prepared for
something marvellous.
"A calf," said the Cow, with a curious rumbling chuckle.
"I don't think _that's_ a very good joke," said the disappointed little
boy.
"It's a deal funnier than your cab story," said the Cow. "And, what's
more, it's true! Good-afternoon." And with this the Cow disappeared from
the opening, and the cab door shut to with a loud bang.
Davy sat still for a moment, hoping that Mother Hubbard, or perhaps the
dog, or even the cat, would appear, so that he might explain his story
about the cab. None of them came; but meanwhile a very extraordinary
thing happened, for the house itself began to _go_. First the chimneys
sank down through the roof, as if they were being lowered into the
cellar. Then the roof itself, with its gables and dormer windows, softly
folded itself flat down upon the top of the house, out of sight. Then
the cab door and the latticed windows fluttered gently for a moment, as
if rather uncertain how to dispose of themselves, and finally faded
away, one by one, as if they had been soaked into the bricks. Then the
porch gravely took itself to pieces and carried itself, so to speak,
carefully in through the front door; and finally the front door went in
itself, and nothing was left of the house that Jack built but a high
brick wall, with the climbing roses running all over it like a beautiful
pink vine. All this was so unexpected and so wonderful that Davy sat
quite still, expecting something marvellous of this wall; but it proved
to be a very matter-of-fact affair, with no intention whatever of doing
anything or going anywhere, and, after watching it attentively for a few
moments, Davy got up and resumed his journey along the road.