Project Gutenberg's Fables for the Frivolous, by Guy Whitmore Carryl This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Fables for the Frivolous Author: Guy Whitmore Carryl Posting Date: January 27, 2009 [EBook #6438] Release Date: September, 2004 First posted: December 14, 2002 Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FABLES FOR THE FRIVOLOUS *** Produced by Steve Schulze, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. The scans for this book are from the Michigan State University Online Digital Collection http://digital.lib.msu.edu/onlinecolls/collection.cfm?CID=3 FABLES FOR THE FRIVOLOUS (With Apologies to La Fontaine) By GUY WETMORE CARRYL With Illustrations by Peter Newell 1898 FABLES FOR THE FRIVOLOUS TO MY FATHER NOTE: I have pleasure in acknowledging the courteous permission the editors to reprint in this form such of the following fables were originally published in Harper's periodicals, in Life, and Munsey's Magazine. G. W. C. CONTENTS THE AMBITIOUS FOX AND THE UNAPPROACHABLE GRAPES THE PERSEVERING TORTOISE AND THE PRETENTIOUS HARE THE PATRICIAN PEACOCKS AND THE OVERWEENING JAY THE ARROGANT FROG AND THE SUPERIOR BULL THE DOMINEERING EAGLE AND THE INVENTIVE BRATLING THE ICONOCLASTIC RUSTIC AND THE APROPOS ACORN THE UNUSUAL GOOSE AND THE IMBECILIC WOODCUTTER THE RUDE RAT AND THE UNOSTENTATIOUS OYSTER THE URBAN RAT AND THE SUBURBAN RAT THE IMPECUNIOUS CRICKET AND THE FRUGAL ANT THE PAMPERED LAPDOG AND THE MISGUIDED ASS THE VAINGLORIOUS OAK AND THE MODEST BULRUSH THE INHUMAN WOLF AND THE LAMB SANS GENE THE SYCOPHANTIC FOX AND THE GULLIBLE RAVEN THE MICROSCOPIC TROUT AND THE MACHIAVELIAN FISHERMAN THE CONFIDING PEASANT AND THE MALADROIT BEAR THE PRECIPITATE COCK AND THE UNAPPRECIATED PEARL THE ABBREVIATED FOX AND HIS SCEPTICAL COMRADES THE HOSPITABLE CALEDONIAN AND THE THANKLESS VIPER THE IMPETUOUS BREEZE AND THE DIPLOMATIC SUN ILLUSTRATIONS "THE FOX RETREATED OUT OF RANGE" "HE STROVE TO GROW ROTUNDER" "AN ACORN FELL ABRUPTLY" "SAID SHE, 'GET UP, YOU BRUTE YOU!'" "'J'ADMIRE,' SAID HE, 'TON BEAU PLUMAGE'" "AND SO A WEIGHTY ROCK SHE AIMED" THE AMBITIOUS FOX AND THE UNAPPROACHABLE GRAPES A farmer built around his crop A wall, and crowned his labors By placing glass upon the top To lacerate his neighbors, Provided they at any time Should feel disposed the wall to climb. He also drove some iron pegs Securely in the coping, To tear the bare, defenceless legs Of brats who, upward groping, Might steal, despite the risk of fall, The grapes that grew upon the wall. One day a fox, on thieving bent, A crafty and an old one, Most shrewdly tracked the pungent scent That eloquently told one That grapes were ripe and grapes were good And likewise in the neighborhood. He threw some stones of divers shapes The luscious fruit to jar off: It made him ill to see the grapes So near and yet so far off. His throws were strong, his aim was fine, But "Never touched me!" said the vine. The farmer shouted, "Drat the boys!" And, mounting on a ladder, He sought the cause of all the noise; No farmer could be madder, Which was not hard to understand Because the glass had cut his hand. His passion he could not restrain, But shouted out, "You're thievish!" The fox replied, with fine disdain, "Come, country, don't be peevish." (Now "country" is an epithet One can't forgive, nor yet forget.) The farmer rudely answered back With compliments unvarnished, And downward hurled the bric-à-brac With which the wall was garnished, In view of which demeanor strange, The fox retreated out of range. "I will not try the grapes to-day," He said. "My appetite is Fastidious, and, anyway, I fear appendicitis." (The fox was one of the élite Who call it site instead of seet.) The moral is that if your host Throws glass around his entry You know it isn't done by most Who claim to be the gentry, While if he hits you in the head You may be sure he's underbred. THE PERSEVERING TORTOISE AND THE PRETENTIOUS HARE Once a turtle, finding plenty In seclusion to bewitch, Lived a dolce far niente Kind of life within a ditch; Rivers had no charm for him, As he told his wife and daughter, "Though my friends are in the swim, Mud is thicker far than water." One fine day, as was his habit, He was dozing in the sun, When a young and flippant rabbit Happened by the ditch to run: "Come and race me," he exclaimed, "Fat inhabitant of puddles. Sluggard! You should be ashamed. Such a life the brain befuddles." This, of course, was banter merely, But it stirred the torpid blood Of the turtle, and severely Forth he issued from the mud. "Done!" he cried. The race began, But the hare resumed his banter, Seeing how his rival ran In a most unlovely canter. Shouting, "Terrapin, you're bested! You'd be wiser, dear old chap, If you sat you down and rested When you reach the second lap." Quoth the turtle, "I refuse. As for you, with all your talking, Sit on any lap you choose. I shall simply go on walking." Now this sporting proposition Was, upon its face, absurd; Yet the hare, with expedition, Took the tortoise at his word, Ran until the final lap, Then, supposing he'd outclassed him, Laid him down and took a nap And the patient turtle passed him! Plodding on, he shortly made the Line that marked the victor's goal; Paused, and found he'd won, and laid the Flattering unction to his soul. Then in fashion grandiose, Like an after-dinner speaker, Touched his flipper to his nose, And remarked, "Ahem! Eureka!" And THE MORAL (lest you miss one) Is: There's often time to spare, And that races are (like this one) Won not always by a hair. THE PATRICIAN PEACOCKS AND THE OVERWEENING JAY Once a flock of stately peacocks Promenaded on a green, There were twenty-two or three cocks, Each as proud as seventeen, And a glance, however hasty, Showed their plumage to be tasty; Wheresoever one was placed, he Was a credit to the scene. Now their owner had a daughter Who, when people came to call, Used to say, "You'd reelly oughter See them peacocks on the mall." Now this wasn't to her credit, And her callers came to dread it, For the way the lady said it Wasn't recherché at all. But a jay that overheard it From his perch upon a fir Didn't take in how absurd it Was to every one but her; When they answered, "You don't tell us!" And to see the birds seemed zealous He became extremely jealous, Wishing, too, to make a stir. As the peacocks fed together He would join them at their lunch, Culling here and there a feather Till he'd gathered quite a bunch; Then this bird, of ways perfidious, Stuck them on him most fastidious Till he looked uncommon hideous, Like a Judy or a Punch. But the peacocks, when they saw him, One and all began to haul, And to harry and to claw him Till the creature couldn't crawl; While their owner's vulgar daughter, When her startled callers sought her, And to see the struggle brought her, Only said, "They're on the maul." It was really quite revolting When the tumult died away, One would think he had been moulting So dishevelled was the jay; He was more than merely slighted, He was more than disunited, He'd been simply dynamited In the fervor of the fray. And THE MORAL of the verses Is: That short men can't be tall. Nothing sillier or worse is Than a jay upon a mall. And the jay opiniative Who, because he's imitative, Thinks he's highly decorative Is the biggest jay of all. THE ARROGANT FROG AND THE SUPERIOR BULL Once, on a time and in a place Conducive to malaria, There lived a member of the race Of Rana Temporaria; Or, more concisely still, a frog Inhabited a certain bog. A bull of Brobdingnagian size, Too proud for condescension, One morning chanced to cast his eyes Upon the frog I mention; And, being to the manner born, Surveyed him with a lofty scorn. Perceiving this, the bactrian's frame With anger was inflated, Till, growing larger, he became Egregiously elated; For inspiration's sudden spell Had pointed out a way to swell. "Ha! ha!" he proudly cried, "a fig For this, your mammoth torso! Just watch me while I grow as big As you--or even more so!" To which magniloquential gush His bullship simply answered "Tush!" Alas! the frog's success was slight, Which really was a wonder, In view of how with main and might He strove to grow rotunder! And, standing patiently the while, The bull displayed a quiet smile. [Illustration: "HE STROVE TO GROW ROTUNDER"] But ah, the frog tried once too oft And, doing so, he busted; Whereat the bull discreetly coughed And moved away, disgusted, As well he might, considering The wretched taste that marked the thing. THE MORAL: Everybody knows How ill a wind it is that blows. THE DOMINEERING EAGLE AND THE INVENTIVE BRATLING O'er a small suburban borough Once an eagle used to fly, Making observations thorough From his station in the sky, And presenting the appearance Of an animated V, Like the gulls that lend coherence Unto paintings of the sea. Looking downward at a church in This attractive little shire, He beheld a smallish urchin Shooting arrows at the spire; In a spirit of derision, "Look alive!" the eagle said; And, with infinite precision, Dropped a feather on his head. Then the boy, annoyed distinctly By the freedom of the bird, Voiced his anger quite succinctly In a single scathing word; And he sat him on a barrow, And he fashioned of this same Eagle's feather such an arrow As was worthy of the name. Then he tried his bow, and, stringing It with caution and with care, Sent that arrow singing, winging Towards the eagle in the air. Straight it went, without an error, And the target, bathed in blood, Lurched, and lunged, and fell to terra Firma, landing with a thud. "Bird of freedom," quoth the urchin, With an unrelenting frown, "You shall decorate a perch in The menagerie in town; But of feathers quite a cluster I shall first remove for Ma: Thanks to you, she'll have a duster For her precious objets d'art." And THE MORAL is that pride is The precursor of a fall. Those beneath you to deride is Not expedient at all. Howsoever meek and humble Your inferiors may be, They perchance may make you tumble, So respect them. Q. E. D. THE ICONOCLASTIC RUSTIC AND THE APROPOS ACORN Reposing 'neath some spreading trees, A populistic bumpkin Amused himself by offering these Reflections on a pumpkin: "I would not, if the choice were mine, Grow things like that upon a vine, For how imposing it would be If pumpkins grew upon a tree." Like other populists, you'll note, Of views enthusiastic, He'd learned by heart, and said by rote A creed iconoclastic; And in his dim, uncertain sight Whatever wasn't must be right, From which it follows he had strong Convictions that what was, was wrong. As thus he sat beneath an oak An acorn fell abruptly And smote his nose: whereat he spoke Of acorns most corruptly. "Great Scott!" he cried. "The Dickens!" too, And other authors whom he knew, And having duly mentioned those, He expeditiously arose. Then, though with pain he nearly swooned, He bathed his organ nasal With arnica, and soothed the wound With extract of witch hazel; And surely we may well excuse The victim if he changed his views: "If pumpkins fell from trees like that," He murmured, "Where would I be at?" Of course it's wholly clear to you That when these words he uttered He proved conclusively he knew Which side his bread was buttered; And, if this point you have not missed, You'll learn to love this populist, The only one of all his kind With sense enough to change his mind. THE MORAL: In the early spring A pumpkin-tree would be a thing Most gratifying to us all, But how about the early fall? THE UNUSUAL GOOSE AND THE IMBECILIC WOODCUTTER A woodcutter bought him a gander, Or at least that was what he supposed, As a matter of fact, 'twas a slander As a later occurrence disclosed; For they locked the bird up in the garret To fatten, the while it grew old, And it laid there a twenty-two carat Fine egg of the purest of gold! There was much unaffected rejoicing In the home of the woodcutter then, And his wife, her exuberance voicing, Proclaimed him most lucky of men. "'Tis an omen of fortune, this gold egg," She said, "and of practical use, For this fowl doesn't lay any old egg, She's a highly superior goose." Twas this creature's habitual custom, This laying of superfine eggs, And they made it their practice to dust 'em And pack them by dozens in kegs: But the woodcutter's mind being vapid And his foolishness more than profuse, In order to get them more rapid He slaughtered the innocent goose. He made her a gruel of acid Which she very obligingly ate, And at once with a touchingly placid Demeanor succumbed to her fate. With affection that passed the platonic They buried her under the moss, And her epitaph wasn't ironic In stating, "We mourn for our loss." And THE MORAL: It isn't much use, As the woodcutter found to be true, To lay for an innocent goose Just because she is laying for you. THE RUDE RAT AND THE UNOSTENTATIOUS OYSTER Upon the shore, a mile or more From traffic and confusion, An oyster dwelt, because he felt A longing for seclusion; Said he: "I love the stillness of This spot. It's like a cloister." (These words I quote because, you note, They rhyme so well with oyster.) A prying rat, believing that She needed change of diet, In search of such disturbed this much- To-be-desired quiet. To say the least, this tactless beast Was apt to rudely roister: She tapped his shell, and called him--well, A name that hurt the oyster. "I see," she cried, "you're open wide, And, searching for a reason, September's here, and so it's clear That oysters are in season." She smiled a smile that showed this style Of badinage rejoiced her, Advanced a pace with easy grace, And sniffed the silent oyster. The latter's pride was sorely tried, He thought of what he could say, Reflected what the common lot Of vulgar molluscs would say; Then caught his breath, grew pale as death, And, as his brow turned moister, Began to close, and nipped her nose! Superb, dramatic oyster! We note with joy that oi polloi, Whom maidens bite the thumb at, Are apt to try some weak reply To things they should be dumb at. THE MORAL, then, for crafty men Is: When a maid has voiced her Contemptuous heart, don't think you're smart, But shut up--like the oyster. THE URBAN RAT AND THE SUBURBAN RAT