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+Project Gutenberg's Mollie and the Unwiseman Abroad, by John Kendrick Bangs
+
+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/license
+
+
+Title: Mollie and the Unwiseman Abroad
+
+Author: John Kendrick Bangs
+
+Illustrator: Grace G. Weiderseim
+
+Release Date: May 23, 2012 [EBook #39778]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOLLIE AND THE UNWISEMAN ABROAD ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from
+scanned images of public domain material from the Internet
+Archive.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Book Cover]
+
+
+
+
+MOLLIE AND
+THE UNWISEMAN ABROAD
+
+
+
+
+_HOLIDAY EDITIONS_
+_of_
+_JUVENILE CLASSICS_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN
+By George Macdonald
+
+      _Twelve full-page illustrations in color, and the original wood
+      engravings. Decorated chapter-headings and lining-papers.
+      Ornamental cloth, $1.50._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE
+By George Macdonald
+
+      _Twelve full page illustrations in color, and decorated
+      chapter-headings and lining-papers. Ornamental cloth, $1.50._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND
+By George Macdonald
+
+      _Twelve full-page illustrations in color. Decorated
+      chapter-headings and lining-papers. Cloth, ornamental, $1.50._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DOG OF FLANDERS
+By "Ouida"
+
+      _Illustrated with full-page color plates, and decorated
+      chapter-headings and lining-papers. Cloth, ornamental, $1.50._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+Publishers Philadelphia
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "I'VE BEEN TRYING TO FIND OUT HOW TO TIE A SINKER TO THIS
+SOUP"--_Page 47_]
+
+
+
+
+MOLLIE AND THE
+UNWISEMAN
+ABROAD
+
+BY
+JOHN KENDRICK BANGS
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY_
+GRACE G. WIEDERSEIM
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PHILADELPHIA & LONDON
+J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+1910
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT 1910
+BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+TO
+MY FRIENDS THE CHILDREN
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER       PAGE
+         FOREWORD                                                     11
+           Introducing Two Heroes and a Heroine.
+     I.  MOLLIE, WHISTLEBINKIE, AND THE UNWISEMAN                     13
+    II.  THE START                                                    31
+   III.  AT SEA                                                       48
+    IV.  ENGLAND                                                      64
+     V.  A CALL ON THE KING                                           81
+    VI.  THEY GET SOME FOG AND GO SHOPPING                            98
+   VII.  THE UNWISEMAN VISITS THE BRITISH MUSEUM                     114
+  VIII.  THE UNWISEMAN'S FRENCH                                      130
+    IX.  IN PARIS                                                    147
+     X.  THE ALPS AT LAST                                            163
+    XI.  THE UNWISEMAN PLANS A CHAMOIS COMPANY                       178
+   XII.  VENICE                                                      194
+  XIII.  GENOA, GIBRALTAR, AND COLUMBUS                              211
+   XIV.  AT THE CUSTOM HOUSE                                         228
+    XV.  HOME, SWEET HOME                                            245
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+  "I've Been Trying to Find Out How to Tie a Sinker
+      to this Soup"                                       _Frontispiece_
+  "Take Care of Yourself, Fizzledinkie, and don't Blow too much
+      through the Top of Your Hat"                                    29
+  Molly Makes Her Courtesy to Mr. King                                88
+  "These are the Kind His Majesty Prefers," said the girl            104
+  "Have You Seen the Ormolu Clock of Your Sister's Music Teacher?"   154
+  "Out the Way There!" cried the Unwiseman                           168
+  The Chamois Evidently Liked this Verse for its Eyes Twinkled       182
+  They all Boarded a Gondola                                         199
+  The Unwiseman Looked the Official Coldly in the Eye                229
+  "I'm Never Going to Leave You Again, Boldy," he was saying         246
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+INTRODUCING TWO HEROES AND A HEROINE
+
+
+I.
+
+  There were three little folks, and one was fair--
+    Oh a rare little maid was she.
+  Her eyes were as soft as the summer air,
+    And blue as the summer sea.
+  Her locks held the glint of the golden sun;
+    And her smile shed the sweets of May;
+  Her cheek was of cream and roses spun,
+    And dimpled the livelong day.
+
+II.
+
+  The second, well he was a rubber-doll,
+    Who talked through a whistling hat.
+  His speech ran over with folderol,
+    But his jokes they were never flat.
+  He squeaked and creaked with his heart care-free
+    Such things as this tale will tell,
+  But whether asleep or at work was he
+    The little maid loved him well.
+
+III.
+
+  The third was a man--O a very queer man!
+    But a funny old chap was he.
+  From back in the time when the world began
+    His like you never did see.
+  The things he'd "know," they were seldom so,
+    His views they were odd and strange,
+  And his heart was filled with the genial glow
+    Of love for his kitchen range.
+
+IV.
+
+  Now the three set forth on a wondrous trip
+    To visit the lands afar;
+  And what befel on the shore, and ship,
+    As she sailed across the bar,
+  These tales will make as plain as the day
+    To those who will go with me
+  And follow along in the prank and play
+    Of these, my travellers three.
+
+
+
+
+I.
+
+MOLLIE, WHISTLEBINKIE, AND THE UNWISEMAN
+
+
+Mollie was very much excited, and for an excellent reason. Her Papa had
+at last decided that it was about time that she and her Rubber-Doll,
+Whistlebinkie, saw something of this great big beautiful world, and had
+announced that in a few weeks they would all pack their trunks and set
+sail for Europe. Mollie had always wanted to see Europe, where she had
+been told Kings and Queens still wore lovely golden crowns instead of
+hats, like the fairies in her story-book, and the people spoke all sorts
+of funny languages, like French, and Spanish, and real live Greek. As
+for Whistlebinkie, he did not care much where he went as long as he was
+with Mollie, of whom like the rest of the family he was very fond.
+
+"But," said he, when he was told of the coming voyage, "how about Mr.
+Me?"
+
+Now Mr. Me was a funny old gentleman who lived in a little red house not
+far away from Mollie's home in the country. He claimed that his last
+name was Me, but Mollie had always called him the Unwiseman because
+there was so much he did not know, and so little that he was willing to
+learn. The little girl loved him none the less for he was a very good
+natured old fellow, and had for a long time been a play-mate of the two
+inseparable companions, Mollie and Whistlebinkie. The latter by the way
+was called Whistlebinkie because whenever he became excited he blew his
+words through the small whistle in the top of his hat, instead of
+speaking them gently with his mouth, as you and I would do.
+
+"Why, we'll have to invite him to go along, too, if he can afford it,"
+said Mollie. "Perhaps we'd better run down to his house now, and tell
+him all about it."
+
+"Guess-sweed-better," Whistlebinkie agreed through the top of his
+beaver, as usual.
+
+And so the little couple set off down the hill, and were fortunate
+enough to find the old gentleman at home.
+
+"Break it to him gently," whispered Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I will," answered Mollie, under her breath, and then entering the
+Unwiseman's house she greeted him cheerily. "Good Morning, Mr. Me," she
+said.
+
+"Is it?" asked the old gentleman, looking up from his newspaper which he
+was reading upside-down. "I haven't tasted it yet. I never judge a day
+till it's been cooked."
+
+"Tasted it?" laughed Mollie. "Can't you tell whether a morning is good
+or not without tasting it?"
+
+"O I suppose you can if you want to," replied the Unwiseman. "If you
+make up your mind to believe everything you see, why you can believe a
+morning's good just by looking at it, but I prefer to taste mine before
+I commit myself as to whether they are good or bad."
+
+"Perfly-'bsoyd!" chortled Whistlebinkie through the top of his hat.
+
+"What's that?" cried Mollie.
+
+"Still talks through his hat, doesn't he," said the Unwiseman. "Must
+think it's one of these follytones."
+
+"Never-erd-o-sutcha-thing!" whistled Whistlebinkie. "What's a
+follytone?"
+
+"You _are_ a niggeramus," jeered the Unwiseman. "Ho! Never heard of a
+follytone. Ain't he silly, Mollie?"
+
+"I don't think I ever heard of one either, Mr. Unwiseman," said Mollie.
+
+"Well-well-well," ejaculated the Unwiseman in great surprise. "Why a
+follytone is one of those little boxes you have in the house with a
+number like 7-2-3-J-Hokoben that you talk business into to some feller
+off in Chicago or up in Boston. You just pour your words into the box
+and they fall across a wire and go scooting along like lightning to this
+person you're talkin' to."
+
+"Oh," laughed Mollie. "You mean a telephone."
+
+"I call 'em follytones," said the Unwiseman coolly. "Your voice sounds
+so foolish over 'em. I never tried 'em but once"--here the old man began
+to chuckle. "Somebody told me Philadelphia wanted me, and of course I
+knew right away they were putting up a joke on me because I ain't never
+met Philadelphia and Philadelphia ain't never met me, so I just got a
+little squirt gun and filled it up with water and squirted it into the
+box. I guess whoever was trying to make me believe he was Philadelphia
+got a good soaking that time."
+
+"I guess-smaybe-he-didn't," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well he didn't get me anyhow," snapped the Unwiseman. "You don't catch
+me sending my voice to Philadelphia when the chances are I may need it
+any minute around here to frighten burgulars away with. The idea of a
+man's being so foolish as to send his voice way out to Chicago on a wire
+with nobody to look after it, stumps me. But that ain't what we were
+talking about."
+
+"No," said Mollie gravely. "We were talking about tasting days. You said
+you cooked them, I believe."
+
+"That's what I said," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"I never knew anybody else to do it," said Mollie. "What do you do it
+for?"
+
+"Because I find raw days very uncomfortable," explained the Unwiseman.
+"I prefer fried-days."
+
+"Everyday'll be Friday by and by," carolled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"It will with me," said the old man. "I was born on a Friday, I was
+never married on a Friday, and I dyed on Friday."
+
+"You never died, did you?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Of course I did," said the Unwiseman. "I used to have perfectly red
+hair and I dyed it gray so that young people like old Squeaky-hat here
+would have more respect for me."
+
+"Do-choo-call-me-squeekyat!" cried Whistlebinkie angrily.
+
+"All right, Yawpy-tile, I won't--only----" the Unwiseman began.
+
+"Nor-yawpy-tile-neither," whistled Whistlebinkie, beginning to cry.
+
+"Here, here!" cried the Unwiseman. "Stop your crying. Just because
+you're made of rubber and are waterproof ain't any reason for throwing
+tears on my floor. I won't have it. What do you want me to call you,
+Wheezikid?"
+
+"No," sobbed Whistlebinkie. "My name's--Whizzlebinkie."
+
+"Very well then," said the Unwiseman. "Let it be Fizzledinkie----only
+you must show proper respect for my gray hairs. If you don't I'll have
+had all my trouble dyeing for nothing."
+
+Whistlebinkie was about to retort, but Mollie perceiving only trouble
+between her two little friends if they went on at this rate tried to
+change the subject by going back to the original point of discussion.
+"How do you taste a day to see if it's all right?" she asked.
+
+"I stick my tongue out the window," said the Unwiseman, "and it's a good
+thing to do. I remember once down at the sea-shore a young lady asked me
+if I didn't think it was just a sweet day, and I stuck my tongue out of
+the window and it was just as salt as it could be. Tasted like a pickle.
+'No, ma'am, it ain't,' says I. 'Quite the opposite, it's quite briny,'
+says I. If I'd said it was sweet she'd have thought I was as much of a
+niggeramus as old Fizz----"
+
+"Do you always read your newspaper upside-down?" Mollie put in hastily
+to keep the Unwiseman from again hurting Whistlebinkie's feelings.
+
+"Always," he replied. "I find it saves me a lot of money. You see the
+paper lasts a great deal longer when you read it upside-down than when
+you read it upside-up. Reading it upside-up you can go through a
+newspaper in about a week, but when you read it upside-down it lasts
+pretty nearly two months. I've been at work on that copy of the
+_Gazette_ six weeks now and I've only got as far as the third column of
+the second page from the end. I don't suppose I'll reach the news on the
+first column of page one much before three weeks from next Tuesday. I
+think it's very wasteful to buy a fresh paper every day when by reading
+it upside-down backwards you can make the old one last two months."
+
+"Do-bleeve-youkn-reada-tall," growled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"What's that?" cried the old man.
+
+"I-don't-be-lieve-you-can-read-at-all!" said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"O as for that," laughed the old man, "I never said I could. I don't
+take a newspaper to read anyhow. What's the use? Fill your head up with
+a lot of stuff it's a trouble to forget."
+
+"What _do_ you take it for?" asked Mollie, amazed at this confession.
+
+"I'm collecting commas and Qs," said the Unwiseman. "I always was fond
+of pollywogs and pug-dogs, and the commas are the living image of
+pollywogs, and the letter Q always reminds me of a good natured pug-dog
+sitting down with his back turned toward me. I've made a tally sheet of
+this copy of the _Gazette_ and so far I've found nine thousand and
+fifty-three commas, and thirty-nine pugs."
+
+Whistlebinkie forgot his wrath in an explosion of mirth at this reply.
+He fairly rolled on the floor with laughter.
+
+"Don't be foolish, Fizzledinkie," said the Unwiseman severely. "A good Q
+is just as good as a pug-dog. He's just as fat, has a fine curly tail
+and he doesn't bite or keep you awake nights by barking at the moon or
+make a nuisance of himself whining for chicken-bones while you are
+eating dinner; and as far as the commas are concerned they're better
+even than pollywogs, because they don't wiggle around so much or turn
+into bull-frogs and splash water all over the place."
+
+"There-raintenny-fleeson-cues-sneether," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I didn't catch that," said the Unwiseman. "Talk through your nose just
+once and maybe I'll be able to guess what you're trying to say."
+
+"He says there are not any fleas on Qs," said Mollie with a reproving
+glance at Whistlebinkie.
+
+"As to that I can't say," said the Unwiseman. "I never saw any--but
+anyhow I don't object to fleas on pug-dogs."
+
+"You don't?" cried Mollie. "Why they're horrid, Mr. Unwiseman. They bite
+you all up."
+
+"Perfly-awful," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"You're wrong about that," said the Unwiseman. "They don't bite you at
+all while they're on the pug-dog. It's only when they get on you that
+they bite you. That's why I say I don't mind 'em on the pug-dogs. As
+long as they stay there they don't hurt me."
+
+Here the Unwiseman rose from his chair and walking across the room
+opened a cupboard and taking out an old clay pipe laid it on one of the
+andirons where a log was smouldering in the fire-place.
+
+"I always feel happier when I'm smoking my pipe," he said resuming his
+seat and smiling pleasantly at Mollie.
+
+"Put it in the fire-place to warm it?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Of course not, Stupid," replied the Unwiseman scornfully. "I put it in
+the fire-place to smoke it. That's the cheapest and healthiest way to
+smoke a pipe. I don't have to buy any tobacco to keep it filled, and as
+long as I leave it over there on the andiron I don't get any of the
+smoke up my nose or down my throat. I tried it the other way once and
+there wasn't any fun in it that I could see. The smoke got in all my
+flues and I didn't stop sneezing for a week. It was dreadful, and once
+or twice I got scared and sent for the fire-engines to put me out. I was
+so full of smoke it seemed to me I must be on fire. It wasn't so bad the
+first time because the firemen just laughed and went away, but the
+second time they came they got mad at what they called a second false
+alarm and turned the hose on me. I tell you I was very much put out when
+they did that, and since that time I've given up smoking that way. I
+never wanted to be a chimney anyhow. What's the use? If you're going to
+be anything of that sort it's a great deal better to be an oven so that
+some kind cook-lady will keep filling you up with hot-biscuits, and
+sponge-cake, and roast turkey."
+
+"I should think so," said Mollie. "That's one of the nice things about
+being a little girl----you're not expected to smoke."
+
+"Well I don't know about that," said the Unwiseman. "Far as I can
+remember I never was a little girl so I don't know what was expected of
+me as such, but as far as I'm concerned I'm perfectly willing to let the
+pipe get smoked in the fire-place, and keep my mouth for expressing
+thoughts and eating bananas and eclairs with, and my throat for giving
+three cheers on the Fourth of July, and swallowing apple pie. That's
+what they were made for and hereafter that's what I'm going to use 'em
+for. Where's Miss Flaxilocks?"
+
+Miss Flaxilocks was Mollie's little friend and almost constant
+companion, the French doll with the deepest of blue eyes and the richest
+of golden hair from which she got her name.
+
+"She couldn't come to-day," explained Mollie.
+
+"Stoo-wexited," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"What's that?" asked the Unwiseman. "Sounds like a clogged-up
+radiator."
+
+"He means to say that she is too excited to come," said Mollie. "The
+fact is, Mr. Unwiseman, we're all going abroad----"
+
+"Abroad?" demanded the Unwiseman. "Where's that?"
+
+"Hoh!" jeered Whistlebinkie. "Doesn't know where abroad is!"
+
+"How should I know where abroad is?" retorted the Unwiseman. "I never
+had any. What is it anyhow? A new kind of pie?"
+
+"No," laughed Mollie. "Abroad is Europe, and England and----"
+
+"And Swizz-izzer-land," put in Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Swizz-what?" cried the Unwiseman.
+
+"Switzerland," said Mollie. "It's Switzerland, Whistlebinkie."
+
+"Thass-watised, Swizz-izzerland," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"What's the good of them?" asked the Unwiseman.
+
+"O they're nice places to visit," said Mollie.
+
+"Do you walk there?" asked the Unwiseman.
+
+"No--of course not," said Mollie with a smile. "They're thousands of
+miles away, across the ocean."
+
+"Across the ocean?" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "Mercy! Ain't the ocean
+that wet place down around New Jersey somewhere?"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "The Atlantic Ocean."
+
+"Humph!" said the Unwiseman. "How you going to get across? There ain't
+any bridges over it, are there?"
+
+"No indeed," said Mollie.
+
+"Nor no trolleys?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+Mollie's reply was a loud laugh, and Whistlebinkie whistled with glee.
+
+"Going in a balloon, I suppose," sneered the Unwiseman. "That is all of
+you but old Sizzerinktum here. I suppose he's going to try and jump
+across. Smart feller, old Sizzerinktum."
+
+"I ain't neither!" retorted Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Ain't neither what--smart?" said the Unwiseman.
+
+"No--ain't goin' to jump," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Good thing too," observed the Unwiseman approvingly. "If you did you'd
+bounce so high when you landed that _I_ don't believe you'd ever come
+down."
+
+"We're going in a boat," said Mollie. "Not a row boat nor a sail boat,"
+she hastened to explain, "but a great big ocean steamer, large enough to
+carry over a thousand people, and fast enough to cross in six days."
+
+"Silly sort of business," said the Unwiseman. "What's the good of going
+to Europe and Swazzoozalum--or whatever the place is--when you haven't
+seen Albany or Troy, or New Rochelle and Yonkers, or Michigan and
+Patterson?"
+
+"O well," said Mollie, "Papa's tired and he's going to take a vacation
+and we're all going along to help him rest, and Flaxilocks is so excited
+about going back to Paris where she was born that I have had to keep her
+in her crib all the time to keep her from getting nervous
+procrastination."
+
+"I see," said the Unwiseman. "But I don't see why if people are tired
+they don't stay home and go to bed. That's the way to rest. Just lie in
+bed a couple of days without moving."
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "But Papa needs the salt air to brace him up."
+
+"What of it?" demanded the Unwiseman. "Can't you get salt air without
+going across the ocean? Seems to me if you just fill up a pillow with
+salt and sleep on that, the way you do on one of those pine-needle
+pillows from the Dadirondacks, you'd get all the salt air you wanted, or
+build a salt cellar under your house and run pipes from it up to your
+bedroom to carry the air through."
+
+"It wouldn't be the same, at all," said Mollie. "Besides we're going to
+see the Alps."
+
+"Oh--that's different. Of course if you're going to see the Alps that's
+very different," said the Unwiseman. "I wouldn't mind seeing an Alp or
+two myself. I always was interested in animals. I've often wondered why
+they never had any Alps at the Zoo."
+
+"I guess they're too big to bring over," said Mollie gravely.
+
+"Maybe so, but even then if they catch 'em young I don't see," began the
+Unwiseman.
+
+Whistlebinkie's behavior at this point was such that Mollie, fearing a
+renewal of the usual quarrel between her friends ran hastily on to the
+object of their call and told the Unwiseman that they had come to bid
+him good-bye.
+
+"I wish you were going with us," she said as she shook the old
+gentleman's hand.
+
+"Thank you very much," he replied. "I suppose it would be nice, but I
+have too many other things to attend to and I don't see how I could
+spare the time. In the first place I've got all those commas and Qs to
+look after, and then if I went away there'd be nobody around to see that
+my pipe was smoked every day, or to finish up my newspaper. Likewise
+also too in addition the burgulars might get into my house some night
+while I was away and take the wrong things because I haven't been able
+yet to let 'em know just what I'm willing to have 'em run off with, so
+you see how badly things would get mixed if I went away."
+
+"I suppose they would," sighed Mollie.
+
+"There'd be nobody here to exercise my umbrella on wet days, either,"
+continued the old gentleman, "or to see that the roof leaked just right,
+or to cook my meals and eat 'em. No--I don't just see how I _could_
+manage it." And so the old gentleman bade his visitors good-bye.
+
+[Illustration: "TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, FIZZLEDINKIE, AND DON'T BLOW TOO
+MUCH THROUGH THE TOP OF YOUR HAT"]
+
+"Take care of yourself, Fizzledinkie," he observed to Whistlebinkie,
+"and don't blow too much through the top of your hat. I've heard of
+boats being upset by sudden squalls, and you might get the whole party
+in trouble by the careless use of that hat of yours."
+
+Mollie and her companion with many waves of their hands back at the
+Unwiseman made off up the road homeward. The old gentleman gazed after
+them thoughtfully for awhile, and then returned to his work on his
+newspaper.
+
+"Queer people--some of 'em," he muttered as he cut out his ninety-ninth
+Q and noted the ten-thousand-six-hundred-and-thirty-eighth comma on his
+pollywog tally sheet. "Mighty queer. With a country of their own right
+outside their front door so big that they couldn't walk around it in
+less than forty-eight hours, they've got to go abroad just to see an old
+Alp cavorting around in Whizzizalum or whatever else that place
+Whistlebinkie was trying to talk about is named. I'd like to see an Alp
+myself, but after all as long as there's plenty of elephants and
+rhinoceroses up at the Zoo what's the good of chasing around after other
+queer looking beasts getting your feet wet on the ocean, and having your
+air served up with salt in it?"
+
+And as there was nobody about to enlighten the old gentleman on these
+points he went to bed that night with his question unanswered.
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+THE START
+
+
+Other good byes had been said; the huge ocean steamer had drawn out of
+her pier and, with Mollie and Whistlebinkie on board, together with
+Flaxilocks and the rest of the family, made her way down the bay,
+through the Narrows, past Sandy Hook and out to sea. The long low lying
+shores of New Jersey, with their white sands and endless lines of villas
+and summer hotels had gradually sunk below the horizon and the little
+maid was for the first time in her life out of sight of land.
+
+"Isn't it glorious!" cried Mollie, as she breathed in the crisp fresh
+air, and tasted just a tiny bit of the salt spray of the ocean on her
+lip.
+
+"I guesso," whistled Whistlebinkie, with a little shiver.
+"Think-ide-like-it-better-'fwe-had-alittle-land-in-sight."
+
+"O no, Whistlebinkie," returned Mollie, "it's a great deal safer this
+way. There are rocks near the shore but outside here the water is ever
+so deep--more'n six feet I guess. I'd be perfectly happy if the
+Unwiseman was only with us."
+
+Just then up through one of the big yawning ventilators, that look so
+like sea-serpents with their big flaming mouths stretched wide open as
+if to swallow the passengers on deck, came a cracked little voice
+singing the following song to a tune that seemed to be made up as it
+went along:
+
+                "Yo-ho!
+                Yo-ho--
+    O a sailor's life for me!
+          I love to nail
+          The blithering gale,
+    As I sail the bounding sea.
+  For I'm a glorious stowaway,
+  I've thrown my rake and hoe away,
+  On the briny deep to go away,
+    Yeave-ho--Yeave-ho--Yo-hee!"
+
+"Where have I heard that voice before!" cried Mollie clutching
+Whistlebinkie by the hand so hard that he squeaked.
+
+"It's-sizz!" whistled Whistlebinkie excitedly.
+
+"It's what?" cried Mollie.
+
+"It's-his!" repeated Whistlebinkie more correctly.
+
+"Whose--the Unwiseman's?" Mollie whispered with delight.
+
+"Thass-swat-I-think," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+And then the song began again drawing nearer each moment.
+
+                "Yeave-ho,
+                Yo-ho,
+    O I love the life so brave.
+          I love to swish
+          Like the porpoise fish
+    Over the foamy wave.
+  So let the salt wind blow-away,
+  All care and trouble throw-away,
+  And lead the life of a Stowaway
+    Yeave-ho--Yeave-ho--Yo-hee!"
+
+"It is he as sure as you're born, Whistlebinkie!" cried Mollie in an
+ecstacy of delight. "I wonder how he came to come."
+
+"I 'dno," said Whistlebinkie. "I guess he's just went and gone."
+
+As Whistlebinkie spoke sure enough, the Unwiseman himself clambered out
+of the ventilator and leaped lightly on the deck alongside of them still
+singing:
+
+                "Yeave-ho,
+                Yo-ho,
+    I love the At-lan-tic.
+          The water's wet
+          And you can bet
+    The motion makes me sick.
+  But let the wavelets flow away
+  You cannot drive the glow away
+  From the heart of the happy Stowaway.
+    Yeave-ho--Yeave-ho--Yo-hee!"
+
+Dear me, what a strange looking figure he was as he jumped down and
+greeted Mollie and Whistlebinkie! In place of his old beaver hat he wore
+a broad and shiny tarpaulin. His trousers which were of white duck
+stiffly starched were neatly creased down the sides, ironed as flat as
+they could be got, nearly two feet wide and as spick and span as a
+snow-flake. On his feet he wore a huge pair of goloshes, and thrown
+jauntily around his left shoulder and thence down over his right arm to
+his waist was what appeared to be a great round life preserver, filled
+with air, and heavy enough to support ten persons of his size.
+
+"Shiver my timbers if it ain't Mollie!" he roared as he caught sight of
+her. "And Whistlebinkie too--Ahoy there, Fizzledinkie. What's the good
+word?"
+
+"Where on earth did you come from?" asked Mollie overjoyed.
+
+"I weighed anchor in the home port at seven bells last night; set me
+course nor-E by sou-sou-west, made for the deep channel running past the
+red, white and blue buoy on the starboard tack, reefed my galyards in
+the teeth o' the blithering gale and sneaked aboard while Captain Binks
+of the good ship _Nancy B._ was trollin' for oysters off the fishin'
+banks after windin' up the Port watch," replied the Unwiseman. "It's a
+great life, ain't it," he added gazing admiringly about him at the
+wonderful ship and then over the rail at the still more wonderful ocean.
+
+"But how did you come to come?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Well--ye see after you'd said good-bye to me the other day, I was sort
+of upset and for the first time in my life I got my newspaper right side
+up and began to read it that way," the old gentleman explained. "And I
+fell on a story of the briny deep in which a young gentleman named Billy
+The Rover Bold sailed from the Spanish main to Kennebunkport in a dory,
+capturing seventeen brigs, fourteen galleons and a pirate band on the
+way. It didn't say fourteen galleons of what, but thinkin' it might be
+soda water, it made my mouth water to think of it, so I decided to rent
+my house and come along. About when do you think we'll capture any
+Brigs?"
+
+"You rented your house?" asked Mollie in amazement.
+
+"Yes--to a Burgular," said the Unwiseman. "I thought that was the best
+way out of it. If the burgular has your house, thinks I, he won't break
+into it, spoiling your locks, or smashing your windows and doors. What
+he's got likewise moreover he won't steal, so the best thing to do is to
+turn everything over to him right in the beginning and so save your
+property. So I advertised. Here it is, see?" And the Unwiseman produced
+the following copy of his advertisement.
+
+  FOR TO BE LET
+  ONE FIRST CLASS PREMISSES
+  ALL MODDERN INCONVENIENCES
+  HOT AND COAL GAS
+  SIXTEEN MILES FROM POLICE STATION
+  POSESSION RIGHT AWAY OFF
+  ONLY BURGULARS NEED APPLY.
+
+  Address, The Unwiseman, At Home.
+
+"One of 'em called the next night and he's taken the house for six
+months," the Unwiseman went on. "He's promised to keep the house clean,
+to smoke my pipe, look after my Qs and commas, eat my meals regularly,
+and exercise the umbrella on wet days. It was a very good arrangement
+all around. He was a very nice polite burgular and as it happened had a
+lot of business he wanted to attend to right in our neighborhood. He
+said he'd keep an eye on your house too, and I told him about how to get
+in the back way where the cellar window won't lock. He promised for sure
+he'd look into it."
+
+"Very kind of him I'm sure," said Mollie dubiously.
+
+"You'd have liked him very much--nicest burgular I ever met. Had real
+taking ways," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"Howd-ulike-being-outer-sighter-land?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Who, me?" asked the Unwiseman. "I wouldn't like it at all. I took
+precious good care that I shouldn't be neither."
+
+"Nonsense," said Mollie. "How can you help yourself?"
+
+"This way," said the Unwiseman with a proud smile of superiority, taking
+a bottle from his pocket. "See that?" he added.
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "What is it?"
+
+"It's land, of course," replied the Unwiseman, holding the bottle up in
+the light. "Real land off my place at home. Just before I left the house
+it occurred to me that it would be pleasant to have some along and I
+took a shovel and went out and got a bottle full of it. It makes me feel
+safer to have the land in sight all the way over and then it will keep
+me from being homesick when I'm chasing those Alps down in Swazoozalum."
+
+"Swizz-izzerland!" corrected Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Swit-zer-land!" said Mollie for the instruction of both. "It's not
+Swazoozalum, or Swizziz-zerland, but Switzerland."
+
+"O I see--rhymes with Hits-yer-land--when the Alp he hits your land,
+then you think of Switzerland--that it?" asked the Unwiseman.
+
+"Well that's near enough," laughed Mollie. "But how does that bottle
+keep you from being homesick?"
+
+"Why--when I begin to pine for my native land, all I've got to do is to
+open the bottle and take out a spoonful of it. 'This is my own, my
+native land,' the Poet said, and when I look at this bottle so say I.
+Right out of my own yard, too," said the Unwiseman, hugging the bottle
+tightly to his breast. "It's queer isn't it how I should find out how to
+travel so comfortably without having to ask anybody."
+
+"I guess you're a genius," suggested Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Maybe I am," agreed the Unwiseman, "but anyhow you know I just knew
+what to do as soon as I made up my mind to come along."
+
+Mollie looked at him admiringly.
+
+"Take these goloshes for instance. I'm the only person on board this
+boat that's got goloshes on," continued the old gentleman, "and yet if
+the boat went down, how on earth could they keep their feet dry? It's
+all so simple. Same way with this life preserver--it's nothing but an
+old bicycle tire I found in your barn, but just think what it would mean
+to me if I should fall overboard some day."
+
+"Smitey-fine!" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"It is that. All I'll have to do is to sit inside of it and float till
+they lower a boat after me," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"What have you done about getting sea-sick?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Ah--that's the thing that bothered me as much as anything," ejaculated
+the Unwiseman, "but all of a sudden it came to me like a flash. I was
+getting my fishing tackle ready for the trip and when I came to the
+sinkers, there was the idea as plain as the nose on your face. Six days
+out, says I, means thirty-seven meals."
+
+"Thirty-seven?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Yes--three meals a day for six days is--," began the Unwiseman.
+
+"Only eighteen," said Mollie, who for a child of her size was very quick
+at multiplication.
+
+"So it is," said the Unwiseman, his face growing very red. "So it is. I
+must have forgotten to set down five and carry three."
+
+"Looks that way," said Whistlebinkie, with a mirthful squeak through the
+top of his hat. "What you did was to set down three and carry seven."
+
+"That's it," said the Unwiseman. "Three and seven make
+thirty-seven--don't it?"
+
+"Looked at sideways," said Mollie, with a chuckle.
+
+"I know I got it somehow," observed the Unwiseman, his smile returning.
+"So I prepared myself for thirty-seven meals. I brought a lead sinker
+along for each one of them. I'm going to tie one sinker to each meal to
+keep it down, and of course I won't be sea-sick at all. There was only
+one other way out of it that I could think of; that was to eat
+pound-cake all the time, but I was afraid maybe they wouldn't have any
+on board, so I brought the sinkers instead."
+
+"It sounds like a pretty good plan," said Whistlebinkie. "Where's your
+State-room?"
+
+"I haven't got one," said the Unwiseman. "I really don't need it,
+because I don't think I'll go to bed all the way across. I want to sit
+up and see the scenery. When you've only got a short time on the water
+and aren't likely to make a habit of crossing the ocean it's too bad to
+miss any of it, so I didn't take a room."
+
+"I don't think there's much scenery to be seen on the ocean," suggested
+Mollie. "It's just plain water all the way over."
+
+"O I don't think so," replied the Unwiseman. "I imagine from that story
+about Billy the Rover there's a lot of it. There's the Spanish main for
+instance. I want to keep a sharp look out for that and see how it
+differs from Bangor, Maine. Then once in a while you run across a
+latitude and a longitude. I've never seen either of those and I'm sort
+of interested to see what they look like. All I know about 'em is that
+one of 'em goes up and down and the other goes over and back--I don't
+exactly know how, but that's the way it is and I'm here to learn. I
+should feel very badly if we happened to pass either of 'em while I was
+asleep."
+
+"Naturally," said Mollie.
+
+"Then somewhere out here they've got a thing they call a horrizon, or a
+horizon, or something like that," continued the Unwiseman. "I've asked
+one of the sailors to point it out to me when we come to it, and he said
+he would. Funny thing about it though--he said he'd sailed the ocean for
+forty-seven years and had never got close enough to it to touch it.
+'Must be quite a sight close to,' I said, and he said that all the
+horrizons he ever saw was from ten to forty miles off. There's a place
+out here too where the waves are ninety feet high; and then there's the
+Fishin' Banks--do you know I never knew banks ever went fishin', did
+you? Must be a funny sight to see a lot o' banks out fishin'. What
+State-room are you in, Mollie?"
+
+"We've got sixty-nine," said Mollie.
+
+"Sixty-nine," demanded the Unwiseman. "What's that mean?"
+
+"Why it's the number of my room," explained Mollie.
+
+"O," said the Unwiseman scratching his head in a puzzled sort of way.
+"Then you haven't got a State-room?"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "It's a State-room."
+
+"I don't quite see," said the Unwiseman, gazing up into the air. "If
+it's a State-room why don't they call it New Jersey, or Kansas, or
+Mitchigan, or some other State? Seems to me a State-room ought to be a
+State-room."
+
+"I guess maybe there's more rooms on board than there are States,"
+suggested Whistlebinkie. "There ain't more than sixty States, are there,
+Mollie?"
+
+"There's only forty-six," said Mollie.
+
+"Ah--then that accounts for number sixty-nine," observed the Unwiseman.
+"They're just keeping a lot of rooms numbered until there's enough
+States to go around."
+
+"I hope we get over all right," put in Whistlebinkie, who wasn't very
+brave.
+
+"O I guess we will," said the Unwiseman, cheerfully. "I was speaking to
+that sailor on that very point this morning, and he said the chances
+were that we'd go through all right unless we lost one of the screws."
+
+"Screws?" inquired Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Yes--it don't sound possible, but this ship is pushed through the water
+by a couple of screws fastened in back there at the stern. It's the
+screws sterning that makes the boat go," the Unwiseman remarked with all
+the pride of one who really knows what he is talking about. "Of course
+if one of 'em came unfastened and fell off we wouldn't go so fast and if
+both of 'em fell off we wouldn't go at all, until we got the sails up
+and the wind came along and blew us into port."
+
+"Well I never!" said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"O I knew that before I came aboard," said the Unwiseman, sagely. "So I
+brought a half dozen screws along with me. There they are."
+
+And the old gentleman plunged his hand into his pocket and produced six
+bright new shining screws.
+
+"You see I'm ready for anything," he observed. "I think every passenger
+who takes one of these screwpeller boats--that's what they call 'em,
+screwpellers--ought to come prepared to furnish any number of screws in
+case anything happens. I'm not going to tell anybody I've got 'em
+though. I'm just holding these back until the Captain tells us the
+screws are gone, and then I'll offer mine."
+
+"And suppose yours are lost too, and there ain't any wind for the
+sails?" demanded Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I've got a pair o' bellows down in my box," said the Unwiseman
+gleefully. "We can sit right behind the sails and blow the whole
+business right in the teeth of a dead clam."
+
+"Dead what?" roared Mollie.
+
+"A dead clam," said the Unwiseman. "I haven't found out why they call it
+a dead clam--unless it's because it's so still--but that's the way we
+sailors refer to a time at sea when there isn't a handful o' wind in
+sight and the ocean is so smooth that even the billows are afraid to
+roll in it for fear they'd roll off."
+
+"We sailors!" ejaculated Whistlebinkie, scornfully under his breath.
+"Hoh!"
+
+"Well you certainly are pretty well prepared for whatever happens,
+aren't you, Mr. Unwiseman," said Mollie admiringly.
+
+"I like to think so," said the old gentleman. "There's only one thing
+I've overlooked," he added.
+
+"Wass-that?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I have most unaccountably forgotten to bring my skates along, and I'm
+sure I don't know what would happen to me without 'em if by some
+mischance we ran into an iceberg and I was left aboard of it when the
+steamer backed away," the Unwiseman remarked.
+
+Here the deck steward came along with a trayful of steaming cups of
+chicken broth.
+
+"Broth, ma'am," he said politely to Mollie.
+
+"Thank you," said Mollie. "I think I will."
+
+Whistlebinkie and the Unwiseman also helped themselves, and a few
+minutes later the Unwiseman disappeared bearing his cup in his hand. It
+was three hours after this that Mollie again encountered him, sitting
+down near the stern of the vessel, a doleful look upon his face, and the
+cup of chicken broth untasted and cold in his hands.
+
+"What's the matter, dearie?" the little girl asked.
+
+"O--nothing," he said, "only I--I've been trying for the past three
+hours to find out how to tie a sinker to this soup and it regularly
+stumps me. I can tie it to the cup, but whether it's the motion of the
+ship or something else, I don't know what, I can't think of swallowing
+_that_ without feeling queer here."
+
+And the poor old gentleman rubbed his stomach and looked forlornly out
+to sea.
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+AT SEA
+
+
+It was all of three days later before the little party of travellers met
+again on deck. I never inquired very closely into the matter but from
+what I know of the first thousand miles of the ocean between New York
+and Liverpool I fancy Mollie and Whistlebinkie took very little interest
+in anybody but themselves until they had got over that somewhat uneven
+stretch of water. The ocean is more than humpy from Nantucket Light on
+and travelling over it is more or less like having to slide over eight
+or nine hundred miles of scenic railroads, or bumping the bumps, not for
+three seconds, but for as many successive days, a proceeding which
+interferes seriously with one's appetite and gives one an inclination to
+lie down in a comfortable berth rather than to walk vigorously up and
+down on deck--though if you _can_ do the latter it is the very best
+thing in the world _to_ do. As for the Unwiseman all I know about him
+during that period is that he finally gave up his problem of how to tie
+a sinker to a half-pint of chicken broth, and diving head first into the
+ventilator through which he had made his first appearance on deck,
+disappeared from sight. On the morning of the fourth day however he
+flashed excitedly along the deck past where Mollie and Whistlebinkie
+having gained courage to venture up into Mollie's steamer chair were
+sitting, loudly calling for the Captain.
+
+"Hi-hullo!" called Mollie, as the old gentleman rushed by. "Mr.
+Me!"--Mr. Me it will be remembered by his friends was the name the
+Unwiseman had had printed on his visiting cards. "Mister Me--come here!"
+
+The Unwiseman paused for a moment.
+
+"I'm looking for the Captain," he called back. "I find I forgot to tell
+the burgular who's rented my house that he mustn't steal my kitchen
+stove until I get back, and I want the Captain to turn around and go
+back for a few minutes so that I can send him word."
+
+"He wouldn't do that, Mr. Me," said Mollie.
+
+"Then let him set me on shore somewhere where I can walk back," said the
+Unwiseman. "It would be perfectly terrible if that burgular stole my
+kitchen stove. I'd have to eat all my bananas and eclairs raw, and
+besides I use that stove to keep the house cool in summer."
+
+"There isn't any shore out here to put you on," said Mollie.
+
+"Where's your bottle of native land?" jeered Whistlebinkie. "You might
+walk home on that."
+
+"Hush, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie. "Don't make him angry."
+
+"Well," said the Unwiseman ruefully. "I'm sure I don't know what to do
+about it. It is the only kitchen stove I've got, and it's taken me ten
+years to break it in. It would be very unfortunate just as I've got the
+stove to do its work exactly as I want it done to go and lose it."
+
+"Why don't you send a wireless message?" suggested Mollie. "They've got
+an office on board, and you can telegraph to him."
+
+"First rate," said the old man. "I'd forgotten that." And the Unwiseman
+sat down and wrote the following dispatch:
+
+      DEAR MR. BURGULAR:
+
+      Please do not steal my kitchen stove. If you need a stove steal
+      something else like the telephone book or that empty bottle of
+      Woostershire Sauce standing on the parlor mantel-piece with the
+      daisy in it, and sell them to buy a new stove with the money. I've
+      had that stove for ten years and it has only just learned how to
+      cook and it would be very annoying to me to have to get a new one
+      and have to teach it how I like my potatoes done. You know the one
+      I mean. It's the only stove in the house, so you can't get it
+      mixed up with any other. If you do I shall persecute you to the
+      full extent of the law and have you arrested for petty parsimony
+      when I get back. If you find yourself strongly tempted to steal it
+      the best thing to do is to keep it red hot with a rousing fire on
+      its insides so that it will be easier for you to keep your hands
+      off.
+
+  Yours trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN.
+
+      P.S. Take the poker if you want to but leave the stove. It's a
+      wooden poker and not much good anyhow.
+
+  Yours trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN.
+
+"There!" he said as he finished writing out the message. "I guess
+that'll fix it all right."
+
+"It-tortoo," whistled Whistlebinkie through the top of his hat.
+
+"What?" said Mollie, severely.
+
+"It-ought-to-fix-it," repeated Whistlebinkie.
+
+And the Unwiseman ran up the deck to the wireless telegraph office. In a
+moment he returned, his face full of joy.
+
+"I guess I got the best of 'em that time!" he chortled gleefully. "What
+do you suppose Mollie? They actually wanted me to pay twenty-one
+dollars and sixty cents for that telegram. The very idea!"
+
+"Phe-ee-ew!" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Very far from few," retorted the Unwiseman. "It was many rather than
+few and I told the man so. 'I can buy five new kitchen stoves for that
+amount of money,' said I. 'I can't help that,' said the man. 'I guess
+you can't,' said I. 'If you could the price o' kitchen stoves would go
+up'."
+
+"What did you do?" asked Mollie.
+
+"I told him I was just as wireless as he was, and I tossed my message up
+in the air and last time I saw it it was flying back to New York as
+tight as it could go," said the Unwiseman. "I guess I can send a message
+without wires as well as anybody else. It's a great load off my mind to
+have it fixed, I can tell you," he added.
+
+"What have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last, Mr. Me?"
+asked Mollie, as her old friend seated himself on the foot-rest of her
+steamer chair.
+
+"O I've managed to keep busy," said the Unwiseman, gazing off at the
+rolling waves.
+
+Whistlebinkie laughed.
+
+"See-zick?" he whistled.
+
+"What me?" asked the Unwiseman. "Of course not--we sailors don't get
+sea-sick like land-lubbers. No, sirree. I've been a little miserable due
+to my having eaten something that didn't agree with me--I very foolishly
+ate a piece of mince pie about five years ago--but except for that I've
+been feeling first rate. For the most part I've been watching the screw
+driver--they've got a big steam screw driver down-stairs in the cellar
+that keeps the screws to their work, and I got so interested watching it
+I've forgotten all about meals and things like that."
+
+"Have you seen horrizon yet?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Yes," returned the Unwiseman gloomily. "It's about the stupidest thing
+you ever saw. See that long line over there where the sky comes down and
+touches the water?"
+
+"Yep," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well that's what they call the horrizon," said the Unwiseman
+contemptuously. "It's nothin' but a big circle runnin' round and round
+the scenery, day and night, now and forever. It won't go near anybody
+and it won't let anybody go near it. I guess it's just about the most
+unsociable fish that ever swam the sea. Speakin' about fish, what do you
+say to trollin' for a whale this afternoon?"
+
+"That would be fine!" cried Mollie. "Have you any tackle?"
+
+"Oh my yes," replied the Unwiseman. "I've got a half a mile o' trout
+line, a minnow hook and a plate full o' vermicelli."
+
+"Vermicelli?" demanded Mollie.
+
+"Yes--don't you know what Vermicelli is? It's sort of baby macaroni,"
+explained the Unwiseman.
+
+"What good is it for fishing?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I don't know yet," said the Unwiseman "but between you and me I don't
+believe if you baited a hook with it any ordinary fish who'd left his
+eyeglasses on the mantel-piece at home could tell it from a worm. I
+neglected to bring any worms along in my native land bottle, and I've
+searched the ship high and low without finding a place where I could dig
+for 'em, so I borrowed the vermicelli from the cook instead."
+
+"Does-swales-like-woyms?" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I don't know anything about swales," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"I meant-twales," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Never heard of a twale neither," retorted the Unwiseman. "Just what
+sort of a rubber fish is a twale?"
+
+"He means whales," Mollie explained.
+
+"Why don't he say what he means then?" said the Unwiseman scornfully. "I
+never knew such a feller for twisted talk. He ties a word up into a
+double bow knot and expects everybody to know what he means right off
+the handle. I don't know whether whales like vermicelli or not. Seems to
+me though that a fish that could bite at a disagreeable customer like
+Jonah would eat anything whether it was vermicelli or just plain
+catterpiller."
+
+"Well even if they did you couldn't pull 'em aboard with a trout line
+anyhow," snapped Whistlebinkie. "Whales is too heavy for that."
+
+"Who wants to pull 'em aboard, Smarty?" retorted the Unwiseman. "I leave
+it to Mollie if I ever said I wanted to pull 'em aboard. Quite the
+contrary opposite. I'd rather not pull a whale on board this boat and
+have him flopping around all over the deck, smashing chairs and windows,
+and knockin' people overboard with his tail, and spouting water all over
+us like that busted fire-hose the firemen turned on me when I thought
+I'd caught fire from my pipe."
+
+"You did say you'd take us fishing for whales, Mr. Me," Mollie put in
+timidly.
+
+"That's a very different thing," protested the Unwiseman. "Fishin' for
+whales is a nice gentle sport as long as you don't catch any. But of
+course if you're going to take his side against me, why you needn't go."
+
+And the Unwiseman rose up full of offended dignity and walked solemnly
+away.
+
+"Dear me!" sighed Mollie. "I'm so sorry he's angry."
+
+"Nuvver-mind," whistled Whistlebinkie. "He won't stay mad long. He'll be
+back in a little while with some more misinformation."
+
+Whistlebinkie was right, for in five minutes the old gentleman returned
+on the run.
+
+"Hurry up, Mollie!" he cried. "The sailor up on the front piazza says
+there's a school of Porpoises ahead. I'm going to ask 'em some
+questions."
+
+Mollie and Whistlebinkie sprang quickly from the steamer chairs and
+hurried along after the Unwiseman.
+
+"I've heard a lot about these Schools of Fish," the Unwiseman observed
+as they all leaned over the rail together. "And I never believed there
+was such a thing, because all the fish I ever saw were pretty
+stupid--leastways there never were any of them could answer any of the
+questions I put to 'em. That may have been because being out o' water
+they were very uncomfortable and feelin' kind of stiff and bashful, but
+out here it ought to be different and I'm going to examine 'em and see
+what they're taught."
+
+"Here they come!" cried Mollie, as a huge gathering of porpoises
+plunging and tumbling over each other appeared under the lee of the
+vessel. "My what a lot!"
+
+"Hi there, Porpy!" shouted the Unwiseman. "Por-pee, come over here a
+minute. What will seven times eight bananas divided by three mince pies
+multiplied by eight cream cakes, subtracted from a Monkey with two tails
+leave?"
+
+The old man cocked his head to one side as if trying to hear the answer.
+
+"Don't hear anything, do you?" he asked in a moment.
+
+"Maybe they didn't hear you," suggested Mollie.
+
+"Askem-something-geezier," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Something easier?" sniffed the Unwiseman. "There couldn't be anything
+easier than that. It will leave a very angry monkey. You just try to
+subtract something from a monkey some time and you'll see. However it is
+a long question so I'll give 'em another."
+
+The old gentleman leaned forward again and addressing the splashing fish
+once more called loudly out:
+
+"If that other sum is too much for you perhaps some one of you can tell
+me how many times seven divided by eleven is a cat with four kittens,"
+he inquired.
+
+Still there was no answer. The merry creatures of the sea were
+apparently too busy jumping over each other and otherwise indulging in
+playful pranks in the water.
+
+"They're mighty weak on Arithmetic, that's sure," sneered the Unwiseman.
+"I guess I'll try 'em on jography. Hi there, Porpee--you big black one
+over there--where's Elmira, New York?"
+
+The Porpoise turned a complete somersault in the air and disappeared
+beneath the water.
+
+"Little Jackass!" growled the Unwiseman. "Guess he hasn't been going to
+school very long not to be able to say that Elmira, New York, is at
+Elmira, New York. Maybe we'll have better luck with that deep blue
+Porpoise over there. Hi-you-you blue Porpoise. What's the chief product
+of the lunch counter at Poughkeepsie?"
+
+Again the Unwise old head was cocked to one side to catch the answer but
+all the blue porpoise did was to wiggle his tail in the air, as he
+butted one of his brother porpoises in the stomach. The Unwiseman looked
+at them with an angry glance.
+
+"Well all I've got to say about you," he shouted, "is that your father
+and mother are wasting their money sending you to school!"
+
+To which one of the Porpoises seemed to reply by sticking his head up
+out of the crest of a wave and sneezing at the Unwiseman.
+
+"Haven't even learned good manners!" roared the old gentleman.
+
+Whereupon the whole school indulged in a mighty scrimmage in the water
+jumping over, under and upon each other and splashing the spray high in
+the air until finally Whistlebinkie in his delight at the sight cried
+out,
+
+"I-guess-sitz-the-football-team!"
+
+"I guess for once you're right, Whistlebinkie," cried the Unwiseman.
+"And that accounts for their not knowing anything about 'rithmetic,
+jography or Elmira. When a feller's a foot-ball player he don't seem to
+care much for such higher education as the Poughkeepsie lunch counter,
+or how many is five. I knew the boys were runnin' foot-ball into the
+ground on land, but I never imagined the fish were running it into the
+water at sea. Too bad--too bad."
+
+And again the Unwiseman took himself off and was not seen again the rest
+of the day. Nor did Mollie and Whistlebinkie see much of him for the
+rest of the voyage for the old fellow suddenly got it into his head
+that possibly there were a few undiscovered continents about, the first
+sight of which would win for him all of the glory of a Christopher
+Columbus, and in order to be unquestionably the very first to catch
+sight of them, he climbed up to the top of the fore-mast and remained
+there for two full days. Fortunately neither the Captain nor the
+Bo'-sun's mate noticed what the old gentleman was doing or they would
+have put him in irons not as a punishment but to protect him from his
+own rash adventuring. And so it was that the Unwiseman was the first
+person on board to catch a glimpse of the Irish Coast, the which he
+announced with a loud cry of glee.
+
+"Land ho--on the starboard tack!" he cried, and then he slid down the
+mast-head and rushed madly down the deck crying joyfully, "I've
+discovered a continent. Hurray for me. I've discovered a continent."
+
+"Watcher-goin'-t'do-with it?" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Depends on how big it is," said the Unwiseman dancing gleefully. "If
+it's a great big one I'll write my name on it and leave it where it is,
+but if it's only a little one I'll dig it up and take it home and add it
+to my back yard."
+
+But alas for the new Columbus! It soon turned out that his new discovery
+was only Ireland which thousands, not to say millions, had discovered
+long before he had, so that the glory which he thought he had won soon
+faded away. But the old gentleman was very amiable about it after he got
+over his first disappointment.
+
+"I don't care," he confided to Mollie later on. "There isn't anything in
+discovering continents anyway. Look at Columbus. He discovered America,
+but somebody else came along and took it away from him and as far as I
+can find out he don't even own an abandoned farm in the United States
+to-day. So what's the good?"
+
+"Thass-wat-I-say," whistled Whistlebinkie. "I wouldn't give seven cents
+to discover all the continents there is. I'd ruther be a live rubber
+doll than a dead dishcover anyhow."
+
+Later in the afternoon when the ship had left Queenstown, Mollie found
+the Unwiseman sitting in her steamer chair hidden behind a copy of the
+London _Times_ which had been brought aboard, and strange to relate he
+had it right-side up and was eagerly running through its massive
+columns.
+
+"Looking for more pollywogs?" the little girl asked.
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman. "I'm trying to find the latest news from
+America. I want to see if that burgular has stole my stove. So far there
+don't seem to be anything about it here, so the chances are it's still
+safe."
+
+"Do you think they'd cable it across?" asked Mollie.
+
+"What the stove?" demanded the Unwiseman. "You can't send a stove by
+cable, stupid."
+
+"No--the news," said Mollie. "It wouldn't be very important, would it?"
+
+"It would be important to me," said the Unwiseman, "and inasmuch as I
+bought and paid for their old paper I've got a right to expect 'em to
+put the news I want in it. If they don't I'll sue 'em for damages and
+buy a new stove with the money."
+
+The next morning bright and early the little party landed in England.
+
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+ENGLAND
+
+
+The Unwiseman's face wore a very troubled look as the little party of
+travellers landed at Liverpool. He had doffed his sailor's costume and
+now appeared in his regular frock coat and old fashioned beaver hat, and
+carried an ancient carpet-bag in his hand, presenting to Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie a more familiar appearance than while in his sea-faring
+clothes, but he was evidently very much worried about something.
+
+"Cheer up," whistled Whistlebinkie noting his careworn expression. "You
+look as if you were down to your last cream-cake. Wass-er-matter?"
+
+"I think they've fooled us," replied the Unwiseman with a doubtful shake
+of his gray head. "This don't look like England to me, and I've been
+wondering if that ship mightn't be a pirate ship after all that's
+carried us all off to some strange place with the idea of thus getting
+rid of us, so that the Captain might go home and steal our
+kitchen-stoves and other voluble things."
+
+"Pooh!" ejaculated Whistlebinkie. "What makes you thinkit-taint
+England?"
+
+"It's too big in the first place," replied the Unwiseman, "and in the
+second it ain't the right color. Just look at this map and you'll see."
+
+Here Mr. Me took a map of the world out of his pocket and spread it out
+before Whistlebinkie.
+
+"See that?" he said pointing to England in one corner. "I've measured it
+off with a tape measure and it's only four inches long and about an inch
+and a half wide. This place we're in now is more'n five miles long and,
+as far as I can see two or three miles across. And look at the color on
+the map."
+
+"Tspink," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I don't know what you mean by tspink," said the Unwiseman, "but----"
+
+"It's-pink," explained Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Exactly," said the Unwiseman. "That's just what it is, but that ain't
+the color of this place. Seems to me this place is a sort of dull yellow
+dusty brown. And besides I don't see any houses on the map and this
+place is just chock-full of them."
+
+"O well, I guess it's all right," said Whistlebinkie. "Maybe when we get
+further in we'll find it grows pinker. Cities ain't never the same color
+as the country you know."
+
+"Possibly," said the Unwiseman, "but even then that wouldn't account for
+the difference in size. Why should the map say it's four inches by an
+inch and a half, when anybody can see that this place is five miles by
+three just by looking at it?"
+
+"I guess-smaybe it's grown some since that map was made," suggested
+Whistlebinkie. "Being surrounded by water you'd think it would grow."
+
+Just then a British policeman walked along the landing stage and
+Whistlebinkie added, "There's a p'liceman. You might speak to him about
+it."
+
+"Good idea," said the Unwiseman. "I'll do it." And he walked up to the
+officer.
+
+"Good morning, Robert," said he. "You'll pardon my curiosity, but is
+this England?"
+
+"Yessir," replied the officer politely. "You are on British soil, sir."
+
+"H'm! British, eh?" observed the Unwiseman. "Just what _is_ that?
+French for English, I suppose."
+
+"This is Great Britain, sir," explained the officer with a smile.
+"Hingland is a part of Great Britain."
+
+"Hingland?" asked the Unwiseman with a frown.
+
+"Yessir--this is Hingland, sir," replied the policeman, as he turned on
+his heel and wandered on down the stage leaving the Unwiseman more
+perplexed than when he had asked the question.
+
+"It looks queerer than ever," said the Unwiseman when he had returned to
+Whistlebinkie. "These people don't seem to have agreed on the name of
+this place, which I consider to be a very suspicious circumstance. That
+policeman said first it was England, then he said it was Great Britain,
+and then he changed it to Hingland, while Mollie's father says it's
+Liverpool. It's mighty strange, and I wish I was well out of it."
+
+"Why did you call the p'liceman Robert, Mr. Me?" asked Whistlebinkie,
+who somehow or other did not seem to share the old gentleman's fears.
+
+"O I read somewhere that the English policemen were all Bobbies," the
+Unwiseman replied. "But I didn't feel that I'd ought to be so familiar
+as to call him that until I'd got to know him better, so I just called
+him Robert."
+
+Later on Mollie explained the situation to the old fellow.
+
+"Liverpool," she said, "is a part of England and England is a part of
+Great Britain, just as Binghamton is a part of New York and New York is
+a part of the United States of America."
+
+"Ah--that's it, eh?" he answered. "And how about Hingland?"
+
+"That is the way some of the English people talk," explained Mollie. "A
+great many of them drop their H's," she added.
+
+"Aha!" said the Unwiseman, nodding his head. "I see. And the police go
+around after them picking them up, eh?"
+
+"I guess that's it," said Mollie.
+
+"Because if they didn't," continued the Unwiseman, "the streets and
+gutters would be just over-run with 'em. If 20,000,000 people dropped
+twenty-five H's apiece every day that would be 500,000,000 H's lyin'
+around. I don't believe you could drive a locomotive through that
+many--Mussy Me! It must keep the police busy pickin' 'em up."
+
+"Perfly-awful!" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I'm going to write a letter to the King about it," said the Unwiseman,
+"and send him a lot of rules like I have around my house to keep people
+from being so careless."
+
+"That's a splendid idea," cried Mollie, overjoyed at the notion. "What
+will you say?"
+
+"H'm!" said the Unwiseman. "Let me see--I guess I'd write like this:"
+and the strange old man sat down on a trunk and dashed off the following
+letter to King Edward.
+
+      DEAR MISTER KING:
+
+  Liverpool, June 10, 19--.
+
+      I understand that the people of your Island is very careless about
+      their aitches and that the pleece are worked to a frazzil pickin'
+      'em up from the public highways. Why don't you by virtue of your
+      exhausted rank propagate the following rules to unbait the
+      nuisance?
+
+      I. My subjex must be more careful of their aitches.
+
+      II. Any one caught dropping an aitch on the public sidewalks will
+      be fined two dollars.
+
+      III. Aitches dropped by accident must be picked up to once
+      immediately and without delay.
+
+      IV. All aitches found roaming about the city streets unaccompanied
+      by their owners will be promptly arrested by the pleece and kept
+      in the public pound until called for after which they will be
+      burnt, and the person calling for them fined two dollars.
+
+      V. All persons whether they be a pleeceman or a Dook or other
+      nobil personidges seeing a strange aitch lying on the sidewalk, or
+      otherwise roaming at random without any visible owner whether it
+      is his or not must pick it up to once immediately and without
+      delay under penalty of the law.
+
+      VI. Capital H's must be muzzled before took out in public and must
+      be securely fastened by glue or otherwise to the words they are
+      the beginning of.
+
+      VII. Anybody tripping up on the aitch of another person thus
+      carelessly left lying about can sue for damages and get two
+      dollars for a broken leg, five dollars for a broken nose, seven
+      dollars and a half for a black eye, and so on up, from the person
+      leaving the aitch thus carelessly about, or a year's imprisonment,
+      or both.
+
+      VIII. A second offense will be punished by being sent to South
+      Africa for five years when if the habit is continued more severe
+      means will be taken like being made to live in Boston or some
+      other icebound spot.
+
+      IX. School teachers catching children using aitches in this manner
+      will keep them in after school and notify their parents who will
+      spank them and send them to bed without their supper.
+
+      X. Pleecemen will report all aitches found on public streets to
+      the public persecutor and will be paid at the rate of six cents a
+      million for all they pick up.
+
+      I think if your madjesty will have these rules and regulations
+      printed on a blue pasteboard card in big red letters and hung up
+      all over everywhere you will be able, your h. r. h., to unbait
+      this terrible nuisance.
+
+  Yoors trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN.
+
+      P.S. It may happen, your h. r. h., that some of your subjex can't
+      help themselves in this aitch dropping habit, and it would
+      therefore be mercyful of you to provide letter boxes on all the
+      street cornders where they could drop their aitches into without
+      breaking the rules of your high and mighty highness.
+
+  Give my love to the roil family.
+  Yoors trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN.
+
+"There," he said when he had scribbled the letter off with his lead
+pencil. "If the King can only read that it ought to make him much
+obliged to me for helping him out of a very bad box. This Island ain't
+so big, map or no map, that they can afford to have it smothered in
+aitches as it surely will be if the habit ain't put a stop to. I wonder
+what the King's address is."
+
+"I don't know," said Whistlebinkie with a grin. "He and I ain't never
+called on each other yet."
+
+"Is King his last name or his first, I wonder," said the Unwiseman,
+scratching his head wonderingly.
+
+"His first name is Edward," said Mollie. "It used to be Albert Edward,
+but he dropped the Albert."
+
+"Edward what?" demanded the Unwiseman. "Don't they call him Edward
+Seventh?"
+
+"Yes they do," said Mollie.
+
+"Then I guess I'll address it to Edward S. King, Esquire, Number Seven,
+London--that's where all the kings live when they're home," said the
+Unwiseman.
+
+And so the letter went addressed to Edward S. King, Esquire, Number
+Seven, London, England, but whether His Majesty ever received it or not
+I do not know. Certainly if he did he never answered it, and that makes
+me feel that he never received it, for the King of England is known as
+the First Gentleman of Europe, and I am quite sure that one who deserves
+so fine a title as that would not leave a polite letter like the
+Unwiseman's unanswered. Mollie's father was very much impressed when he
+heard of the Unwiseman's communication.
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised if the King made him a Duke, for that," he
+said. "It is an act of the highest statesmanship to devise so simple a
+plan to correct so widespread an evil. If the Unwiseman were only an
+Englishman he might even become Prime Minister."
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman later, when Mollie told him what her father had
+said. "He couldn't make me Prime Minister because I haven't ever studied
+zoology and couldn't preach a sermon or even take up a collection
+properly, but as for being a Duke--well if he asked me as a special
+favor I might accept that. The Duke of Me--how would that sound,
+Mollie?"
+
+"Oh it would be perfectly beautiful!" cried Mollie overwhelmed by the
+very thought of anything so grand.
+
+"Or Baron Brains--eh?" continued the Unwiseman.
+
+"That would just suit you," giggled Whistlebinkie. "Barren Brains is you
+all over."
+
+"Thank you, Fizzledinkie," said the Unwiseman. "For once I quite agree
+with you. I guess I'll call on some tailor up in London and see what it
+would cost me to buy a Duke's uniform so's to be ready when the King
+sends for me. It would be fine to walk into his office with a linen
+duster on and have him say, 'From this time on Mister Me you're a Duke.
+Go out and get dressed for tea,' and then turn around three times, bow
+to the Queen, whisk off the duster and stand there in the roil presence
+with the Duke's uniform already on. I guess he'd say that was American
+enterprise all right."
+
+"You'd make a hit for sure!" roared Whistlebinkie dancing up and down
+with glee.
+
+"I'll do it!" ejaculated the Unwiseman with a look of determination in
+his eyes. "If I can get a ready-made Duke's suit for $8.50 I'll do it.
+Even if it never happened I could wear the suit to do my gardening in
+when I get home. Did your father say anything about this being England
+or not?"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "He said it was England all right. He's been here
+before and he says you can always tell it by the soldiers walking around
+with little pint measures on their heads instead of hats, and little
+boys in beaver hats with no tails to their coats."
+
+"All right," said the Unwiseman. "I'm satisfied if he is--only the man
+that got up that map ought to be spoken to about making it pink when it
+is only a dull yellow dusty gray, and only four inches long instead of
+five miles. Some stranger trying to find it in the dark some night might
+stumble over it and never know that he'd got what he was looking for.
+Where are we going to from here?"
+
+"We're going straight up to London," said Mollie. "The train goes in an
+hour--just after lunch. Will you come and have lunch with us?"
+
+"No thank you," replied the Unwiseman. "I've got a half dozen lunches
+saved up from the ship there in my carpet bag, and I'll eat a couple of
+those if I get hungry."
+
+"Saved up from the ship?" cried Mollie.
+
+"Yep," said the Unwiseman. "I've got a bottle full of that chicken broth
+they gave us the first day out that I didn't even try to eat; six or
+seven bottlefuls of beef tea, and about two dozen ginger-snaps, eight
+pounds of hard-tack, and a couple of apple pies. I kept ordering things
+all the way across whether I felt like eating them or not and whatever I
+didn't eat I'd bottle up, or wrap up in a piece of paper and put away in
+the bag. I've got just three dinners, two breakfasts and four lunches in
+there. When I get to London I'm going to buy a bunch of bananas and have
+an eclaire put up in a tin box and those with what I've already got
+ought to last me throughout the whole trip."
+
+"By the way, Mr. Me," said Mollie, a thoughtful look coming into her
+eyes. "Do you want me to ask my Papa to buy you a ticket for London? I
+think he'd do it if I asked him."
+
+"I know he would," said Whistlebinkie. "He's one of the greatest men in
+the world for doing what Mollie asks him to."
+
+"No thank you," replied the Unwiseman. "Of course if he had invited me
+to join the party at the start I might have been willing to have went at
+his expense, but seeing as how I sort of came along on my own hook I
+think I'd better look after myself. I'm an American, I am, and I kind of
+like to be free and independent like."
+
+"Have you any money with you?" asked Mollie anxiously.
+
+"No," laughed the Unwiseman. "That is, not more'n enough to buy that
+Duke's suit for $8.50 with. What's the use of having money? It's only a
+nuisance to carry around, and it makes you buy a lot of things you don't
+want just because you happen to have it along. People without money get
+along a great deal cheaper than people with it. Millionaires spend twice
+as much as poor people. Money ain't very sociable you know and it sort
+of hates to stay with you no matter how kind you are to it. So I didn't
+bring any along except the aforesaid eight-fifty."
+
+"Tisn't much, is it," said Mollie.
+
+"Not in dollars, but it's a lot in cents--eight hundred and fifty of
+'em--that's a good deal," said the Unwiseman cheerfully. "Then each cent
+is ten mills--that's--O dear me--such a lot of mills!"
+
+"Eight thousand five hundred," Mollie calculated.
+
+"Goodness!" cried the Unwiseman. "I hope there don't anybody find out
+I've got all that with me. I'd be afraid to go to sleep for fear
+somebody'd rob me."
+
+"But _how_--how are you going to get to London?" asked Mollie anxiously.
+"It's too far to walk."
+
+"O I'll get there," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"He'll probably get a hitch on the cow-catcher," suggested
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Don't you worry," laughed the Unwiseman. "It'll be all right, only--"
+here he paused and looked about him to make sure that no one was
+listening. "Only," he whispered, "I wish somebody would carry my
+carpet-bag. It's a pretty big one as you can see, and I _might_--I don't
+say I would--but I might have trouble getting to London if I had to
+carry it."
+
+"I'll be very glad to take care of it," said Mollie. "Should I have it
+checked or take it with me in the train?"
+
+"Better take it with you," said the Unwiseman. "I haven't any key and
+some of these railway people might open it and eat up all my supplies."
+
+"Very well," said Mollie. "I'll see that it's put in the train and I
+won't take my eyes off it all the way up to London."
+
+So the little party went up to the hotel. The Unwiseman's carpet-bag was
+placed with the other luggage, and the family went in to luncheon
+leaving the Unwiseman to his own devices. When they came out the old
+fellow was nowhere to be seen and Mollie, much worried about him boarded
+the train. Her father helped her with the carpet-bag, the train-door was
+closed, the conductor came for the tickets and with a loud clanging of
+bells the train started for London. It was an interesting trip but poor
+little Mollie did not enjoy it very much. She was so worried to think
+of the Unwiseman all alone in England trying some new patent way of his
+own for getting over so many miles from Liverpool to the capital of the
+British Empire.
+
+"We didn't even tell him the name of our hotel, Whistlebinkie," she
+whispered to her companion. "How will he ever find us again in this big
+place."
+
+"O-he'll-turn-up orright," whistled Whistlebinkie comfortingly. "He
+knows a thing or two even if he is an Unwiseman."
+
+And as it turned out Whistlebinkie was right, for about three minutes
+after their arrival at the London hotel, when the carpet-bag had been
+set carefully aside in one corner of Mollie's room, the cracked voice of
+the Unwiseman was heard singing:
+
+  "O a carpet-bag is more comfortabler
+    Than a regular Pullman Car.
+  Just climb inside and with never a stir,
+    Let no one know where you are;
+  And then when the train goes choo-choo-choo
+    And the ticket man comes arown,
+  You'll go without cost and a whizz straight through
+    To jolly old London-town.
+  To jolly, to jolly, to jolly, to jolly, to jolly old London-town."
+
+"Hi there, Mollie--press the latch on this carpet-bag!" the voice
+continued.
+
+"Where are you?" cried Mollie, gazing excitedly about her.
+
+"In here," came the voice from the cavernous depths of the carpet-bag.
+
+"In the bag," gasped Mollie, breathless with surprise.
+
+"_The_ same--let me out," replied the Unwiseman.
+
+And sure enough, when Mollie and Whistlebinkie with a mad rush sped to
+the carpet-bag and pressed on the sliding lock, the bag flew open and
+Mr. Me himself hopped smilingly up out of its wide-stretched jaws.
+
+
+
+
+V.
+
+A CALL ON THE KING
+
+
+"Mercy!" cried Mollie as the Unwiseman stepped out of the carpet-bag,
+and began limbering up his stiffened legs by pirouetting about the room.
+"Aren't you nearly stufficated to death?"
+
+"No indeed," said the Unwiseman. "Why should I be?"
+
+"Well _I_ should think the inside of a carpet-bag would be pretty
+smothery," observed Mollie.
+
+"Perhaps it would be," agreed the Unwiseman, "if I hadn't taken mighty
+good care that it shouldn't be. You see I brought that life-preserver
+along, and every time I needed a bite of fresh air, I'd unscrew the tin
+cap and get it. I pumped it full of fine salt air the day we left
+Ireland for just that purpose."
+
+"What a splendid idea!" ejaculated Mollie full of admiration for the
+Unwiseman's ingenuity.
+
+"Yes I think it's pretty good," said the Unwiseman, "and when I get back
+home I'm going to invent it and make a large fortune out of it. Of
+course there ain't many people nowadays, especially among the rich, who
+travel in carpet-bags the way I do, or get themselves checked through
+from New York to Chicago in trunks, but there are a lot of 'em who are
+always complaining about the lack of fresh air in railroad trains
+especially when they're going through tunnels, so I'm going to patent a
+little pocket fresh air case that they can carry about with them and use
+when needed. It is to be made of rubber like a hot-water bag, and all
+you've got to do before starting off on a long journey is to take your
+bicycle pump, pump the fresh-air bag full of the best air you can find
+on the place and set off on your trip. Then when the cars get snuffy,
+just unscrew the cap and take a sniff."
+
+"My goodness!" cried Mollie. "You ought to make a million dollars out of
+that."
+
+"Million?" retorted the Unwiseman. "Well I should say so. Why there are
+80,000,000 people in America and if I sold one of those fresh-air bags a
+year to only 79,000,000 of 'em at two dollars apiece for ten years you
+see where I'd come out. They'd call me the Fresh Air King and print my
+picture in the newspapers."
+
+"You couldn't lend me two dollars now, could you?" asked Whistlebinkie
+facetiously.
+
+"Yes I _could_," said the Unwiseman with a frown, "but I won't--but you
+can go out on the street and breathe two dollars worth of fresh air any
+time you want to and have it charged to my account."
+
+Mollie laughed merrily at the Unwiseman's retort, and Whistlebinkie for
+the time being had nothing to say, or whistle either for that matter.
+
+"You missed a lot of interesting scenery on the way up, Mr. Me," said
+Mollie.
+
+"No I didn't," said the Unwiseman. "I heard it all as it went by, and
+that's good enough for me. I'd just as lief hear a thing as see it any
+day. I saw some music once and it wasn't half as pretty to look at as it
+was when I heard it, and it's the same way about scenery if you only get
+your mind fixed up so that you can enjoy it that way. Somehow or other
+it didn't sound so very different from the scenery I've heard at home,
+and that's one thing that made me like it. I'm very fond of sitting
+quietly in my little room at home and listening to the landscape when
+the moon is up and the stars are out, and no end of times as we rattled
+along from Liverpool to London it sounded just like things do over in
+America, especially when we came to the switches at the railroad
+conjunctions. Don't they rattle beautifully!"
+
+"They certainly do!" said Whistlebinkie, prompted largely by a desire to
+get back into the good graces of the Unwiseman. "I love it when we bump
+over them so hard they make-smee-wissle."
+
+"You're all right when you whistle, Fizzledinkie," smiled the Unwiseman.
+"It's only when you try to talk that you are not all that you should be.
+Woyds and you get sort of tangled up and I haven't got time to ravel you
+out. But I say, Mollie, we're really in London are we?"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "This is it."
+
+"Well I guess I'll go out and see what there is about it that makes
+people want to come here," said the Unwiseman. "I've got a list of
+things I want to see, and the sooner I get to work the sooner I'll see
+'em. First thing I want to get a sight of is a real London fog. Then of
+course I want to go down to the Aquarium and see the Prince of Whales,
+and call on the King and Queen, and meet a few Dukes, and Earls and
+things like that. Then there's the British Museum. I'm told there is a
+lot of very interesting things down there including some Egyptian
+mummies that are passing their declining years there. I've never talked
+to a mummy in my life and I'd rather like to meet a few of 'em. I wonder
+if Dick Whittington's cat is still living."
+
+"O I don't believe so," said Mollie. "He must have died long years ago."
+
+"The first time and maybe the second or third or even the fourth time,"
+said the Unwiseman. "But cats have nine lives and if he lived fifty
+years for each of them that would be--let's see, four times nine is
+eighteen, three times two is ten, carry four and----"
+
+"It would be 450 years," laughed Mollie.
+
+"Pretty old cat," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well there's no harm in asking anyhow, and if he is alive I'm going to
+see him, and if he isn't the chances are they've had him stuffed and a
+stuffed cat is better to look at than no cat at all," said the
+Unwiseman, brushing off his hat preparatory to going out. "Come on,
+Mollie--are you ready?"
+
+The little party trudged down the stairs and out upon the avenue upon
+which their hotel fronted.
+
+"Guess we'd better take a hansom," said the Unwiseman as they emerged
+from the door. "We'll save time going that way if the driver knows his
+business. We'll just tell him to go where we want to go, and in that way
+we won't have to keep asking these Roberts the way round."
+
+"Roberts?" asked Mollie, forgetting the little incident at Liverpool.
+
+"Oh well--the Bobbies--the pleecemen," replied the Unwiseman. "I want to
+get used to 'em before I call them that."
+
+So they all climbed into a hansom cab.
+
+"Where to, sir?" asked the cabby, through the little hole in the roof.
+
+"Well I suppose we ought to call on the King first," said the Unwiseman
+to Mollie. "Don't you?"
+
+"I guess so," said Mollie timidly.
+
+"To the King's," said the Unwiseman, through the little hole.
+
+"Beg pardon!" replied the astonished cabby.
+
+"Don't mention it," said the Unwiseman. "Drive to the King's house first
+and apologize afterwards."
+
+"I only wanted to know where you wished to go, sir," said the cabby.
+
+"The King's, stupid," roared the Unwiseman, "Mr. Edward S.
+King's--didn't you ever hear of him?"
+
+"To the Palace, sir?" asked the driver.
+
+"Of course unless his h. r. h. is living in a tent somewhere--and hurry
+up. We didn't engage you for the pleasures of conversation, but to drive
+us," said the Unwiseman severely.
+
+The amazed cabman whipped up his horse and a short while afterwards
+reached Buckingham Palace, the home of the King and Queen in London. At
+either side of the gate was a tall sentry box, and a magnificent
+red-coated soldier with a high bear-skin shako on his head paced along
+the path.
+
+"There he is now," said the Unwiseman, excitedly, pointing at the guard.
+"Isn't he a magnificent sight. Come along and I'll introduce you."
+
+The Unwiseman leapt jauntily out of the hansom and Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie timidly followed.
+
+"Howdido, Mr. King," said the Unwiseman stepping in front of the sentry
+and making a profound salaam and almost sweeping the walk with his hat.
+"We've just arrived in London and have called to pay our respects to you
+and Mrs. King. I hope the children are well. We're Americans, Mr. King,
+but for the time being we've decided to overlook all our little
+differences growing out of the Declaration of Independence and wish you
+a Merry Fourth of July."
+
+The sentry was dumb with amazement at this unexpected greeting, and the
+cabby's eyes nearly dropped out of his head they bulged so.
+
+"Mollie, dear," continued Mr. Me, "Come here, my child and let me
+introduce you to Mr. King. Mr. King, this is a little American girl
+named Mollie. She's a bit bashful in your h. r. h's presence because
+between you and me you are the first real King she's ever saw. We don't
+grow 'em in our country--that is not your kind. We have Cattle Kings and
+Steel Kings, and I'm expecting to become a Fresh Air King myself--but
+the kind that's born to the--er--to the purple like yourself, with a
+gilt crown on his head and the spectre of power in his hand we don't get
+even at the circus."
+
+[Illustration: MOLLY MAKES HER COURTESY TO MR. KING]
+
+"Very glad to meet you," gasped Mollie, feasting her eyes upon the
+gorgeous red coat of the sentry.
+
+The sentry not knowing what else to do and utterly upset by the
+Unwiseman's eloquence returned the gasp as politely as he could.
+
+"She's a mighty nice little girl, Mr. King," said the Unwiseman with a
+fond glance of admiration at Mollie. "And if any of your little kings
+and queens feel like calling at the hotel some morning for a friendly
+Anglo-American romp, Mollie will be very glad to see them. This other
+young person, your h. r. h., is Whistlebinkie who belongs to one of the
+best Rubber families of the United States. He looks better than he
+talks. Whistlebinkie, Mr. King. Mr. King, Whistlebinkie."
+
+Whistlebinkie, too overcome to speak, merely squeaked, a proceeding
+which seemed to please the sentry very much for he returned a truly
+royal smile and expressed himself as being very glad to meet
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Been having pretty cold weather?" asked the Unwiseman genially.
+
+"Been rawther 'ot," said the sentry.
+
+"I only asked," said the Unwiseman with a glance at the guard's shako,
+"because I see you have your fur crown on. Our American Kings wear
+Panama crowns this weather," he added, "but then we're free over there
+and can do pretty much what we like. Did you get my letter?"
+
+"Beg your pardon?" asked the sentry.
+
+"Mercy!" ejaculated the Unwiseman under his breath. "What an apologetic
+people these English are--first the cabby and now the King." Then he
+repeated aloud, "My letter--I wrote to you yesterday about this H
+dropping habit of your people, and I was going to say that if after
+reading it you decided to make me a Duke I'd be very glad to accept if
+the clothes a Duke has to wear don't cost more than $8.50. I might even
+go as high as nine dollars if the suit was a real good one that I could
+wear ten or eleven years--but otherwise I couldn't afford it. It would
+be very kind of your h. r. h. to make me one, but I've always made it a
+rule not to spend more than a dollar a year on my clothes and even a
+Duke has got to wear socks and neckties in addition to his coats and
+trousers. Who is your Majesty's Tailor? That red coat fits you like
+wall-paper."
+
+The sentry said something about buying his uniforms at the Army and Navy
+stores and the Unwiseman observed that he would most certainly have to
+go there and see what he could get for himself.
+
+"I'll tell 'em your h. r. h. sent me," he said pleasantly, "and maybe
+they'll give you a commission on what I buy."
+
+A long pause followed broken only by Whistlebinkie's heavy breathing for
+he had by no means recovered from his excitement over having met a real
+king at last. Finally the Unwiseman spoke again.
+
+"We'd like very much to accept your kind invitation to stay to supper,
+Mr. King," he observed--although the sentry had said nothing at all
+about any such thing--"but we really can't to-night. You see we are
+paying pretty good rates at the hotel and we feel it a sort of duty to
+stay there and eat all we can so as to get our money's worth. And we'd
+like to meet the Queen too, but as you can see for yourself we're hardly
+dressed for that. We only came anyhow to let you know that we were here
+and to tell you that if you ever came to America we'd be mighty glad to
+have you call. I've got a rather nice house of my own with a
+kitchen-stove in it that I wouldn't sell for five dollars that you would
+enjoy seeing. It's rented this summer to one of the most successful
+burgulars in America and I think you'd enjoy meeting him, and don't
+hesitate to bring the children. America's a great place for children,
+your h. r. h. It's just chock full of back yards for 'em to play in, and
+banisters to slide down, and roller skating rinks and all sorts of
+things that children enjoy. I'll be very glad to let you use my umbrella
+too if the weather happens to be bad."
+
+The sentry was very much impressed apparently by the cordiality of the
+Unwiseman's invitation for he bowed most graciously a half dozen times,
+and touched his bear-skin hat very respectfully, and smiled so royally
+that anybody could see he was delighted with the idea of some day
+visiting that far off land where the Unwiseman lived, and seeing that
+wonderful kitchen-stove of which, as we know, the old gentleman was so
+proud.
+
+"By the way," said the Unwiseman, confidentially. "Before I go I'd like
+to say to you that if you are writing at any time to the Emperor of
+Germany you might send him my kind regards. I had hoped to be able to
+stop over at Kettledam, or wherever it is he lives--no, it's Pottsdam--I
+always do get pots and kettles mixed--I had hoped to be able, I say, to
+stop over there and pay my respects to him, but the chances are I won't
+be able to do so this trip. I'd hate to have him think that I'd been
+over here and hadn't paid any attention to him, and if you'll be so kind
+as to send him my regards he won't feel so badly about it. I'd write and
+tell him myself, but the fact is my German is a little rusty. I only
+know German by sight--and even then I don't know what it means except
+Gesundheit,--which is German for 'did you sneeze?' So you see a letter
+addressed to Mr. Hoch----"
+
+"Beg pardon, but Mr. Who sir?" asked the Sentry.
+
+"Mr. Hoch, der Kaiser," said the Unwiseman. "That's his name, isn't it?"
+
+The sentry said he believed it was something like that.
+
+"Well as I was saying even if I wrote he wouldn't understand what I was
+trying to say, so it would be a waste of time," said the Unwiseman.
+
+The sentry nodded pleasantly, and his eyes twinkled under his great
+bear-skin hat like two sparkling bits of coal.
+
+"Good bye, your h. r. h.," the Unwiseman continued, holding out his
+hand. "It has been a real pleasure to meet you, and between you and me
+if all kings were as good mannered and decent about every thing as you
+are we wouldn't mind 'em so much over in America. If the rest of 'em are
+like you they're all right."
+
+And so the Unwiseman shook hands with the sentry and Mollie did likewise
+while Whistlebinkie repeated his squeak with a quaver that showed how
+excited he still was. The three travellers re-entered the hansom and
+inasmuch as it was growing late they decided not to do any more
+sight-seeing that day, and instructed the cabby to drive them back to
+the hotel.
+
+"Wonderfully fine man, that King," said the Unwiseman as they drove
+along. "I had a sort of an idea he'd have a band playing music all the
+time, with ice cream and cake being served every five minutes in truly
+royal style."
+
+"He was just as pleasant as a plain everyday policeman at home," said
+Mollie.
+
+"Pleasanter," observed the Unwiseman. "A policeman at home would
+probably have told us to move on the minute we spoke to him, but the
+King was as polite as ginger-bread. I guess we were lucky to find him
+outside there because if he hadn't been I don't believe the head-butler
+would have let us in."
+
+"How-dy'u-know he was the King?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Oh I just felt it in my bones," said the Unwiseman. "He was so big and
+handsome, and then that red coat with the gold buttons--why it just
+simply couldn't be anybody else."
+
+"He didn't say much, diddee," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman. "I guess maybe that's one of the reasons why
+he's a first class King. The fellow that goes around talking all the
+time might just as well be a--well a rubber-doll like you, Fizzledinkie.
+It takes a great man to hold his tongue."
+
+The hansom drew up at the hotel door and the travellers alighted.
+
+"Thank you very much," said the Unwiseman with a friendly nod at the
+cabby.
+
+"Five shillin's, please, sir," said the driver.
+
+"What's that?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"Five shillin's," repeated the cabby.
+
+"What do you suppose he means?" asked the Unwiseman turning to Mollie.
+
+"Why he wants to be paid five shillings," whispered Mollie. "Shillings
+is money."
+
+"Oh--hm--well--I never thought of that," said the Unwiseman uneasily.
+"How much is that in dollars?"
+
+"It's a dollar and a quarter," said Mollie.
+
+"I don't want to buy the horse," protested the Unwiseman.
+
+"Come now!" put in the driver rather impatiently. "Five shillin's,
+sir."
+
+"Charge it," said the Unwiseman, shrinking back. "Just put it on the
+bill, driver, and I'll send you a cheque for it. I've only got ten
+dollars in real money with me, and I tell you right now I'm not going to
+pay out a dollar and a quarter right off the handle at one fell swoop."
+
+"You'll pay now, or I'll--" the cabby began.
+
+And just then, fortunately for all, Mollie's father, who had been
+looking all over London for his missing daughter, appeared, and in his
+joy over finding his little one, paid the cabby and saved the Unwiseman
+from what promised to be a most unpleasant row.
+
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+THEY GET SOME FOG AND GO SHOPPING
+
+
+The following day the Unwiseman was in high-feather. At last he was able
+to contemplate in all its gorgeousness a real London fog of which he had
+heard so much, for over the whole city hung one of those deep, dark,
+impenetrable mists which cause so much trouble at times to those who
+dwell in the British capital.
+
+"Hurry up, Mollie, and come out," he cried enthusiastically rapping on
+the little girl's door. "There's one of the finest fogs outside you ever
+saw. I'm going to get a bottle full of it and take it home with me."
+
+"Hoh!" jeered Whistlebinkie. "What a puffickly 'bsoyd thing to do--as if
+we never didn't have no fogs at home!"
+
+"We don't have any London fogs in America, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie.
+
+"No but we have very much finer ones," boasted the patriotic
+Whistlebinkie. "They're whiter and cleaner to begin with, and twice as
+deep."
+
+"Well never mind, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie. "Don't go looking around
+for trouble with the Unwiseman. It's very nice to be able to enjoy
+everything as much as he does and you shouldn't never find fault with
+people because they enjoy themselves."
+
+"Hi-there, Mollie," came the Unwiseman's voice at the door. "Just open
+the door a little and I'll give you a hatful of it."
+
+"You can come in," said Mollie. "Whistlebinkie and I are all dressed."
+
+And the little girl opened the door and the Unwiseman entered. He
+carried his beaver hat in both hands, as though it were a pail without a
+handle, and over the top of it he had spread a copy of the morning's
+paper.
+
+"It's just the finest fog ever," he cried as he came in. "Real thick. I
+thought you'd like to have some, so I went out on the sidewalk and got a
+hat full of it for you."
+
+Mollie and Whistlebinkie gathered about the old gentleman as he removed
+the newspaper from the top of his hat, and gazed into it.
+
+"I do-see-anthing," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"You don't?" cried the Unwiseman. "Why it's chock full of fog. You can
+see it can't you Mollie?" he added anxiously, for to tell the truth the
+hat did seem to be pretty empty.
+
+Mollie tried hard and was able to convince herself that she could see
+just a tiny bit of it and acted accordingly.
+
+"Isn't it beautiful!" she ejaculated, as if filled with admiration for
+the contents of the Unwiseman's hat. "I don't think I ever saw any just
+like it before--did you, Mr. Me?"
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman much pleased, "I don't think I ever did--it's
+so delicate and--er--steamy, eh? And there's miles of it outdoors and
+the Robert down on the corner says we're welcome to all we want of it. I
+didn't like to take it without asking, you know."
+
+"Of course not," said Mollie, glancing into the hat again.
+
+"So I just went up to the pleeceman and told him I was going to start a
+museum at home and that I wanted to have some real London fog on
+exhibition and would he mind if I took some. 'Go ahead, sir,' he said
+very politely. 'Go ahead and take all you want. We've got plenty of it
+and to spare. You can take it all if you want it.' Mighty kind of him I
+think," said the Unwiseman. "So I dipped out a hat full for you first.
+Where'll I put it?"
+
+"O----," said Mollie, "I--I don't know. I guess maybe you'd better pour
+it out into that vase up there on the mantel-piece--it isn't too thick
+to go in there, is it?"
+
+"It don't seem to be," said the Unwiseman peering cautiously into the
+hat. "Somehow or other it don't seem quite as thick inside here as it
+did out there on the street. Tell you the truth I don't believe it'll
+keep unless we get it in a bottle and cork it up good and tight--do
+you?"
+
+"I'm afraid not," agreed Mollie. "It's something like snow--kind of
+vaporates."
+
+"I'm going to put mine in a bottle," said the Unwiseman, "and seal the
+cork with sealing wax--then I'll be sure of it. Then I thought I'd get
+an envelope full and send it home to my Burgular just to show him I
+haven't forgotten him--poor fellow, he must be awful lonesome up there
+in my house without any friends in the neighborhood and no other
+burgulars about to keep him company."
+
+And the strange little man ran off to get his bottle filled with fog
+and to fill up an envelope with it as well as a souvenir of London for
+the lonesome Burglar at home. Later on Mollie encountered him leaving
+the hotel door with a small shovel and bucket in his hand such as
+children use on the beach in the summer-time.
+
+"The pleeceman says it's thicker down by the river," he explained to
+Mollie, "and I'm going down there to shovel up a few pailsful--though
+I've got a fine big bottleful of it already corked up and labelled for
+my museum. And by the way, Mollie, you want to be careful about
+Whistlebinkie in this fog. When he whistles on a bright clear day it is
+hard enough to understand what he is saying, but if he gets _his_ hat
+full of fog and tries to whistle with that it will be something awful. I
+don't think I could stand him if he began to talk any foggier than he
+does ordinarily."
+
+Mollie promised to look out for this and kept Whistlebinkie indoors all
+the morning, much to the rubber-doll's disgust, for Whistlebinkie was
+quite as anxious to see how the fog would affect his squeak as the
+Unwiseman was to avoid having him do so. In the afternoon the fog lifted
+and the Unwiseman returned.
+
+"I think I'll go out and see if I can find the King's tailor," he said.
+"I'm getting worried about that Duke's suit. I asked the Robert what he
+thought it would cost and he said he didn't believe you could get one
+complete for less than five pounds and the way I figure it out that's a
+good deal more than eight-fifty."
+
+"It's twenty-five dollars," Mollie calculated.
+
+"Mercy!" cried the Unwiseman. "It costs a lot to dress by the pound
+doesn't it--I guess I'd better write to Mr. King and tell him I've
+decided not to accept."
+
+"Better see what it costs first," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"All right," agreed the Unwiseman. "I will--want to go with me Mollie?"
+
+"Certainly," said Mollie.
+
+And they started out. After walking up to Trafalgar Square and thence on
+to Piccadilly, the Unwiseman carefully scanning all the signs before the
+shops as they went, they came to a bake-shop that displayed in its
+window the royal coat of arms and announced that "Muffins by Special
+Appointment to H. R. H. the King," could be had there.
+
+"We're getting close," said the Unwiseman. "Let's go in and have a royal
+cream-cake."
+
+Mollie as usual was willing and entering the shop the Unwiseman planted
+himself before the counter and addressed the sales-girl.
+
+"I'm a friend of Mr. King, Madame," he observed with a polite bow, "just
+over from America and we had a sort of an idea that we should like to
+eat a really regal piece of cake. What have you in stock made by Special
+Appointment for the King?"
+
+"We 'ave Hinglish Muffins," replied the girl.
+
+"Let me see a few," said the Unwiseman.
+
+The girl produced a trayful.
+
+"Humph!" ejaculated the Unwiseman looking at them critically. "They
+ain't very different from common people's muffins are they? What I want
+is some of the stuff that goes to the Palace. I may look green, young
+lady, but I guess I've got sense enough to see that those things are
+_not_ royal."
+
+[Illustration: "THESE ARE THE KIND HIS MAJESTY PREFERS," SAID THE GIRL]
+
+"These are the kind his majesty prefers," said the girl.
+
+"Come along, Mollie," said the Unwiseman turning away. "I don't want
+to get into trouble and I'm sure this young lady is trying to fool us. I
+am very much obliged to you, Madame," he added turning to the girl at
+the counter. "We'd have been very glad to purchase some of your wares if
+you hadn't tried to deceive us. Those muffins are very pretty indeed but
+when you try to make us believe that they are muffins by special
+appointment to his h. r. h., Mr. Edward S. King, plain and simple
+Americans though we be, we know better. Even my rubber friend,
+Whistlebinkie here recognizes a bean when he sees it. I shall report
+this matter to the King and beg to wish you a very good afternoon."
+
+And drawing himself up to his full height, the Unwiseman with a great
+show of dignity marched out of the shop followed meekly by Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I-didn-tsee-an-thing th-matter-withem," whistled Whistlebinkie. "They
+looked to me like firs-class-smuffins."
+
+"No doubt," said the Unwiseman. "That's because you don't know much. But
+they couldn't fool me. If I'd wanted plain muffins I could have asked
+for them, but when I ask for a muffin by special appointment to his
+h. r. h. the King I want them to give me what I ask for. Perhaps you
+didn't observe that not one of those muffins she brought out was set
+with diamonds and rubies."
+
+"Now that you mention it," said Mollie, "I remember they weren't."
+
+"Prezactly," said the Unwiseman. "They weren't even gold mounted, or
+silver plated, or anything to make 'em different from the plain every
+day muffins that you can buy in a baker's shop at home. I don't believe
+they were by special appointment to anybody--not even a nearl, much less
+the King. I guess they think we Americans don't know anything over
+here--but they're barking up the wrong tree if they think they can fool
+me."
+
+"We-mightuv-tastedum!" whistled Whistlebinkie much disappointed, because
+he always did love the things at the baker's. "You can't tell just by
+lookin' at a muffin whether it's good or not."
+
+"Well go back and taste them," retorted the Unwiseman. "It's your
+taste--only if I had as little taste as you have I wouldn't waste it on
+that stuff. Ah--this is the place I've been looking for."
+
+The old man's eyes had fallen upon another sign which read "Robe Maker
+By Special Appointment to T. R. H. The King and The Queen."
+
+"Here's the place, Mollie, where they make the King's clothes," he said.
+"Now for it."
+
+Hand in hand the three travellers entered the tailor's shop.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Snip," said the Unwiseman addressing the gentlemanly
+manager of the shop whose name was on the sign without and who
+approached him as affably as though he were not himself the greatest
+tailor in the British Isles--for he couldn't have been the King's tailor
+if he had not been head and shoulders above all the rest. "I had a very
+pleasant little chat with his h. r. h. about you yesterday. I could see
+by the fit of his red jacket that you were the best tailor in the world,
+and while he didn't say very much on the subject the King gave me to
+understand that you're pretty nearly all that you should be."
+
+"Verry gracious of his Majesty I am sure," replied the tailor, washing
+his hands in invisible soap, and bowing most courteously.
+
+"Now the chances are," continued the Unwiseman, "that as soon as the
+King receives a letter I wrote to him from Liverpool about how to stamp
+out this horrible habit his subjects have of littering up the street
+with aitches, clogging traffic and overworking the Roberts picking 'em
+up, he'll ask me to settle down over here and be a Duke. Naturally I
+don't want to disappoint him because I consider the King to be a mighty
+nice man, but unless I can get a first-class Duke's costume----"
+
+"We make a specialty of Ducal robes, your Grace," said the Tailor,
+manifesting a great deal of interest in his queer little customer.
+
+"Hold on a minute," cried the Unwiseman. "Don't you call me that yet--I
+shant be a grace until I've decided to accept. What does an A-1 Duke's
+clothes cost?"
+
+"You mean the full State----" began the Tailor.
+
+"I come from New York State," said the Unwiseman. "Yes--I guess that's
+it. New York's the fullest State in the Union. How much for a New York
+State Duke?"
+
+"The State Robes will cost--um--let me see--I should think about fifteen
+hundred pounds, your Lordship," calculated the Tailor. "Of course it all
+depends on the quality of the materials. Velvets are rawther expensive
+these days."
+
+Whistlebinkie gave a long low squeak of astonishment. Mollie gasped and
+the Unwiseman turned very pale as he tremblingly repeated the figure.
+
+"Fif-teen-hundred-pounds? Why," he added turning to Mollie, "I'd have to
+live about seven thousand years to get the wear out of it at a dollar a
+year."
+
+"Yes, your Lordship--or more. It all depends upon how much gold your
+Lordship requires--" observed the Tailor.
+
+"Seems to me I'd need about four barrels of it," said the Unwiseman, "to
+pay a bill like that."
+
+"We have made robes costing as high as 10,000 pounds," continued the
+Tailor. "But they of course were of unusual magnificence--and for
+special jubilee celebrations you know."
+
+"You haven't any ready made Duke's clothes on hand for less?" inquired
+the Unwiseman. "You know I'm not so awfully particular about the fit.
+My figure's a pretty good one, but after all I don't want to thrust it
+on people."
+
+"We do not deal in ready made garments," said the Tailor coldly.
+
+"Well I guess I'll have to give it up then," said the Unwiseman, "unless
+you know where I could hire a suit, or maybe buy one second-hand from
+some one of your customers who's going to get a new one."
+
+"We do not do that kind of trade, sir," replied the Tailor, haughtily.
+
+"Well say, Mr. Snip--ain't there anything else a chap can be made beside
+a Duke that ain't quite so dressy?" persisted the old gentleman. "I
+don't want to disappoint Mr. King you know."
+
+"Oh as for that," observed the Tailor, "there are ordinary peerages,
+baronetcies and the like. His Majesty might make you a Knight," he added
+sarcastically.
+
+"That sounds good," said the Unwiseman. "About what would a Knight gown
+cost me--made out of paper muslin or something that's a wee bit cheaper
+than solid gold and velvet?"
+
+This perfectly innocent and sincerely asked question was never answered,
+for Mr. Snip the Tailor made up his mind that the Unwiseman was guying
+him and acted accordingly.
+
+"Jorrocks!" he cried haughtily to the office boy, a fresh looking lad
+who had broken out all over in brass buttons. "Jorrocks, show this 'ere
+party the door."
+
+Whereupon Mr. Snip retired and Jorrocks with a wink at Whistlebinkie
+showed the travellers out.
+
+"Well did you ever!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "You couldn't have
+expected any haughtier haughtiness than that from the King himself."
+
+"He was pretty proud," said Mollie, with a smile, for to tell the truth
+she had had all she could do all through the interview to keep from
+giggling.
+
+"He was proud all right, but I didn't notice anything very pretty about
+him," said the Unwiseman. "I'm going to write to the King about both
+those places, because I don't believe he knows what kind of people they
+are with their bogus muffins and hoity-toity manners."
+
+They walked solemnly along the street in the direction of the hotel.
+
+"I won't even wait for the mail," said the Unwiseman. "I'll walk over
+to the Palace now and tell him. That tailor might turn some real
+important American out of his shop in the same way and then there'd be a
+war over it."
+
+"O I wouldn't," said Mollie, who was always inclined toward
+peace-making. "Wait and write him a letter."
+
+"Send-im-a-wireless-smessage," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Good idea!" said the Unwiseman. "That'll save postage and it'll get to
+the King right away instead of having to be read first by one of his
+Secretaries."
+
+So it happened that that night the Unwiseman climbed up to the roof of
+the hotel and sent the following wireless telegram to the King:
+
+      MY DEAR MR. KING:
+
+      That tailor of yours seems to think he's a Grand Duke in disguise.
+      In the first place he wanted me to pay over seven thousand dollars
+      for a Duke's suit and when I asked him the price of a Knight-gown
+      he told Jorrocks to show me the door, which I had already seen and
+      hadn't asked to see again. He's a very imputinent tailor and if I
+      were you I'd bounce him as we say in America. Furthermore they
+      sell bogus muffins up at that specially appointed bake-shop of
+      yours. I think you ought to know these things. Nations have gone
+      to war for less.
+
+  Yours trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN.
+
+      P.S. I've been thinking about that Duke proposition and I don't
+      think I care to go into that business. Folks at home haven't as
+      much use for 'em as they have for sour apples which you can make
+      pie out of. So don't do anything further in the matter.
+
+"There," said the Unwiseman as he tossed this message off into the air.
+"That saves me $8.50 anyhow, and I guess it'll settle the business of
+those bogus muffin people and that high and mighty tailor."
+
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+THE UNWISEMAN VISITS THE BRITISH MUSEUM
+
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie one morning after they had
+been in London for a week. "You look very gloomy this morning. Aren't
+you feeling well?"
+
+"O I'm feeling all right physically," said the Unwiseman. "But I'm just
+chock full of gloom just the same and I want to get away from here as
+soon as I can. Everything in the whole place is bogus."
+
+"Oh Mr. Me! you mustn't say that!" protested Mollie.
+
+"Well if it ain't there's something mighty queer about it anyhow, and I
+just don't like it," said the Unwiseman. "I know they've fooled me right
+and left, and I'm just glad George Washington licked 'em at Bunco Hill
+and pushed 'em off our continent on the double quick."
+
+"What is the particular trouble?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Well, in the first place," began the old gentleman, "that King we saw
+the other day wasn't a real king at all--just a sort of decoy king they
+keep outside the Palace to shoo people off and keep them from bothering
+the real one; and in the second place the Prince of Whales aint' a whale
+at all. He ain't even a shiner. He's just a man. I don't see what right
+they have to fool people the way they do. They wouldn't dare run a
+circus that way at home."
+
+Mollie laughed, and Whistlebinkie squeaked with joy.
+
+"You didn't really expect him to be a whale, did you?" Mollie asked.
+
+"Why of course I did," said the Unwiseman. "Why not? They claim over
+here that Britannia rules the waves, don't they?"
+
+"They certainly do," said Mollie gravely.
+
+"Then it's natural to suppose they have a big fish somewhere to
+represent 'em," said the Unwiseman. "The King can't go sloshing around
+under the ocean saying howdido to porpoises and shad and fellers like
+that. It's too wet and he'd catch his death of cold, so I naturally
+thought the Prince of Whales looked after that end of the business, and
+now I find he's not even a sardine. It's perfectly disgusting."
+
+"I knew-he-wasn't-a-fish," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well you always were smarter than anybody else," growled the Unwiseman.
+"You know a Roc's egg isn't a pebble without anybody telling you I
+guess. You were born with the multiplication table in your hat, but as
+for me I'm glad I've got something to learn. I guess carrying so much
+real live information around in your hat is what makes you squeak so."
+
+The old gentleman paused a moment and then he went on again.
+
+"What I'm worrying most about is that mock king," he said. "Here I've
+gone and invited him over to America, and offered to present him with
+the freedom of my kitchen stove and introduce him to my burgular.
+Suppose he comes? What on earth am I going to do? I can't introduce him
+as the real king, and if I pass him off for a bogus king everybody'll
+laugh at me, and accuse me of bringing my burgular into bad company."
+
+"How did you find it out?" asked Mollie sadly, for she had already
+written home to her friends giving them a full account of their
+reception by his majesty.
+
+"Why I went up to the Palace this morning to see why he hadn't answered
+my letter and this time there was another man there, wearing the same
+suit of clothes, bear-skin hat, red jacket and all," explained the
+Unwiseman. "I was just flabbergasted and then it flashed over me all of
+a sudden that there might be a big conspiracy on hand to kidnap the real
+king and put his enemies on the throne. It was all so plain. Certainly
+no king would let anybody else wear his clothes, so this chap must have
+stolen them and was trying to pass himself off for Edward S. King
+himself."
+
+"Mercy!" cried Mollie. "What did you do? Call for help?"
+
+"No sirree--I mean no ma'am!" returned the Unwiseman. "That wouldn't
+help matters any. I ran down the street to a telephone office and rang
+up the palace. I told 'em the king had been kidnapped and that a bogus
+king was paradin' up and down in front of the Palace with the royal
+robes on. I liked that first king so much I couldn't bear to think of
+his lyin' off somewhere in a dungeon-cell waiting to have his head
+chopped off. And what do you suppose happened? Instead of arresting the
+mock king they wanted to arrest me, and I think they would have if a
+nice old gentleman in a high hat and a frock coat like mine, only newer,
+hadn't driven up at that minute, bowing to everybody, and entered the
+Palace yard with the whole crowd giving him three cheers. Then what do
+you suppose? They tried to pass _him_ off on me as the _real_ king--why
+he was plainer than those muffins and looked for all the world like a
+good natured life insurance agent over home."
+
+"And they didn't arrest you?" asked Mollie, anxiously.
+
+"No indeed," laughed the Unwiseman. "I had my carpet-bag along and when
+the pleeceman wasn't looking I jumped into it and waited till they'd all
+gone. Of course they couldn't find me. I don't believe they've got any
+king over here at all."
+
+"Then you'll never be a Duke?" said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"No sirree!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "Not while I know how to say no.
+If they offer it to me I'll buy a megaphone to say no through so's
+they'll be sure to hear it. Then there's that other wicked story about
+London Bridge falling down. I heard some youngsters down there by the
+River announcing the fact and I nearly ran my legs off trying to get
+there in time to see it fall and when I arrived it not only wasn't
+falling down but was just ram-jam full of omnibuses and cabs and trucks.
+Really I never knew anybody anywhere who could tell as many fibs in a
+minute as these people over here can."
+
+"Well never mind, Mr. Me," said Mollie, soothingly. "Perhaps things have
+gone a little wrong with you, and I don't blame you for feeling badly
+about the King, but there are other things here that are very
+interesting. Come with Whistlebinkie and me to the British Museum and
+see the Mummies."
+
+"Pooh!" retorted the Unwiseman. "I'd rather see a basket of figs."
+
+"You never can tell," persisted Mollie. "They may turn out to be the
+most interesting things in all the world."
+
+"I can tell," said the Unwiseman. "I've already seen 'em and they
+haven't as much conversation as a fried oyster. I went down there
+yesterday and spent two hours with 'em, and a more unapproachable lot
+you never saw in your life. I was just as polite to 'em as I knew how to
+be. Asked 'em how they liked the British climate. Told 'em long stories
+of my house at home. Invited a lot of 'em to come over and meet my
+burgular just as I did the King and not a one of 'em even so much as
+thanked me. They just stood off there in their glass cases and acted as
+if they never saw me, and if they did, hadn't the slightest desire to
+see me again. You don't catch me calling on them a second time."
+
+"But there are other things in the Museum, aren't there?" asked Mollie.
+
+The Unwiseman's gloom disappeared for a moment in a loud burst of
+laughter.
+
+"Such a collection of odds and ends," he cried, with a sarcastic shake
+of his head. "I never saw so much broken crockery in all my life. It
+looks to me as if they'd bought up all the old broken china in the
+world. There are tea-pots without nozzles by the thousand. Old tin
+cans, all rusted up and with dents in 'em from everywhere. Cracked
+plates by the million, and no end of water-pitchers with the handles
+broken off, and chipped vases and goodness knows what all. And they call
+that a museum! Just you give me a half a dozen bricks and a crockery
+shop over in America and in five minutes I'll make that British Museum
+stuff look like a sixpence. When I saw it first, I was pretty mad to
+think I'd taken the trouble to go and look at it, and then as I went on
+and couldn't find a whole tea-cup in the entire outfit, and saw people
+with catalogues in their hands saying how wonderful everything was, I
+just had to sit down on the floor and roar with laughter."
+
+"But the statuary, Mr. Me," said Mollie. "That was pretty fine I guess,
+wasn't it? I've heard it's a splendid collection."
+
+"Worse than the crockery," laughed the Unwiseman. "There's hardly a
+statue in the whole place that isn't broken. Seems to me they're the
+most careless lot of people over here with their museums. Half the
+statues didn't have any heads on 'em. A good quarter of them had busted
+arms and legs, and on one of 'em there wasn't anything left but a pair
+of shoulder blades and half a wing sticking out at the back. It looked
+more like a quarry than a museum to me, and in a mighty bad state of
+repair even for a quarry. That was where they put me out," the old
+gentleman added.
+
+"Put you out?" cried Mollie. "Oh Mr. Me--you don't mean to say they
+actually put you out of The British Museum?"
+
+"I do indeed," said the Unwiseman with a broad grin on his face. "They
+just grabbed me by my collar and hustled me along the floor to the great
+door and dejected me just as if I didn't have any more feeling than
+their old statues. It's a wonder the way I landed I wasn't as badly
+busted up as they are."
+
+"But what for? You were not misbehaving yourself, were you?" asked
+Mollie, very much disturbed over this latest news.
+
+"Of course not," returned the Unwiseman. "Quite the contrary opposite. I
+was trying to help them. I came across the great big statue of some
+Greek chap--I've forgotten his name--something like Hippopotomes, or
+something of the sort--standing up on a high pedestal, with a sign,
+
+  "HANDS OFF
+
+"hanging down underneath it. When I looked at it I saw at once that it
+not only had its hands off, but was minus a nose, two ears, one
+under-lip and a right leg, so I took out my pencil and wrote underneath
+the words Hands Off:
+
+  "LIKEWISE ONE NOZE
+  ONE PARE OF EARS
+  A LEG AND ONE LIPP
+
+"It seemed to me the sign should ought to be made complete, but I guess
+they thought different, because I'd hardly finished the second P on lip
+when whizz bang, a lot of attendants came rushing up to me and the first
+thing I knew I was out on the street rubbing the back of my head and
+wondering what hit me."
+
+"Poor old chap!" said Mollie sympathetically.
+
+"Guess-you-wisht-you-was-mader-ubber-like-me!" whistled Whistlebinkie
+trying hard to repress his glee.
+
+"What's that?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"I-guess-you-wished-you-were-made-of-rubber-like-me!" explained
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Never in this world," retorted the Unwiseman scornfully. "If I'd been
+made of rubber like you I'd have bounced up and down two or three times
+instead of once, and I'm not so fond of hitting the sidewalk with myself
+as all that. But I didn't mind. I was glad to get out. I was so afraid
+all the time somebody'd come along and accuse me of breaking their old
+things that it was a real relief to find myself out of doors and nothing
+broken that didn't belong to me."
+
+"They didn't break any of your poor old bones, did they?" asked Mollie,
+taking the Unwiseman's hand affectionately in her own.
+
+"No--worse luck--they did worse than that," said the old gentleman
+growing very solemn again. "They broke that bottle of my native land
+that I always carry in my coat-tail pocket and loosened the cork in my
+fog bottle in the other, so that now I haven't more than a pinch of my
+native land with me to keep me from being homesick, and all of the fog I
+was saving up for my collection has escaped. But I don't care. I don't
+believe it was real fog, but just a mixture of soot and steam they're
+trying to pass off for the real thing. Bogus like everything else, and
+as for my native land, I've got enough to last me until I get home if
+I'm careful of it. The only thing I'm afraid of is that in scooping what
+I could of it up off the sidewalk I may have mixed a little British soil
+in with it. I'd hate to have that happen because just at present British
+soil isn't very popular with me."
+
+"Maybe it's bogus too," snickered Whistlebinkie.
+
+"So much the better," said the Unwiseman. "If it ain't real I can manage
+to stand it."
+
+"Then you don't think much of the British Museum?" said Mollie.
+
+"Well it ain't my style," said the Unwiseman, shaking his head
+vigorously. "But there was one thing that pleased me very much about
+it," the old man went on, his eye lighting with real pleasure and his
+voice trembling with patriotic pride, "and that's some of the things
+they didn't have in it. It was full of things the British have captured
+in Greece and Italy and Africa and pretty nearly everywhere
+else--mummies from Egypt, pieces of public libraries from Athens,
+second-story windows from Rome, and little dabs of architecture from
+all over the map except the United States. That made me laugh. They may
+have had Cleopatra's mummy there, but I didn't notice any dried up
+specimens of the Decalculation of Independence lying around in any of
+their old glass cases. They had a whole side wall out of some Roman
+capitol building perched up on a big wooden platform, but I didn't
+notice any domes from the Capitol at Washington or back piazzas from the
+White House on exhibition. There was a lot of busted old statuary from
+Greece all over the place, but nary a statue of Liberty from New York
+harbor, or figger of Andrew Jackson from Philadelphia, or bust of Ralph
+Waldo Longfellow from Boston Common, sitting up there among their
+trophies--only things hooked from the little fellers, and dug up from
+places like Pompey-two-eyes where people have been dead so long they
+really couldn't watch out for their property. It don't take a very
+glorious conqueror to run off with things belonging to people they can
+lick with one hand, and it pleased me so when I couldn't find even a
+finger-post, or a drug-store placard, or a three dollar shoe store sign
+from America in the whole collection that my chest stuck out like a
+pouter pigeon's and bursted my shirt-studs right in two. They'd have had
+a lump chipped off Independence Hall at Philadelphia, or a couple of
+chunks of Bunco Hill, or a sliver off the Washington Monument there all
+right if they could have got away with it, but they couldn't, and I tell
+you I wanted to climb right up top of the roof and sing Yankee Doodle
+and crow like a rooster the minute I noticed it, I felt so good."
+
+"Three cheers for us," roared Whistlebinkie.
+
+"That's the way to talk, Fizzledinkie," cried the old gentleman
+gleefully, and grasping Whistlebinkie by the hand he marched up and down
+Mollie's room singing the Star Spangled Banner--the Unwiseman in his
+excitement called it the Star Spangled Banana--and Columbia the Gem of
+the Ocean at the top of his lungs, and Mollie was soon so thrilled that
+she too joined in.
+
+"Well," said Mollie, when the patriotic ardor of her two companions had
+died down a little. "What are you going to do, Mr. Me? We've got to stay
+here two days more. We don't start for Paris until Saturday."
+
+"O don't bother about me," said the old man pleasantly. "I've got plenty
+to do. I've bought a book called 'French in Five Lessons' and I'm going
+to retire to my carpet-bag until you people are ready to start for
+France. I've figured it out that I can read that book through in two
+days if I don't waste too much of my time eating and sleeping and
+calling on kings and queens and trying to buy duke's clothes for $8.50,
+and snooping around British Museums and pricing specially appointed
+royal muffins, so that by the time you are ready to start for Paris I'll
+be in shape to go along. I don't think it's wise to go into a country
+where they speak another language without knowing just a little about
+it, and if 'French in Five Lessons' is what it ought to be you'll think
+I'm another Joan of Ark when I come out of that carpet-bag."
+
+And so the queer old gentleman climbed into his carpet-bag, which Mollie
+placed for him over near the window where the light was better and
+settled down comfortably to read his new book, "French in Five Lessons."
+
+"I'm glad he's going to stay in there," said Whistlebinkie, as he and
+Mollie started out for a walk in Hyde Park. "Because I wouldn't be a
+bit surprised after all he's told us if the pleese were looking for
+him."
+
+"Neither should I," said Mollie. "If what he says about the British
+Museum is true and they really haven't any things from the United States
+in there, there's nothing they'd like better than to capture an American
+and put him up in a glass case along with those mummies."
+
+All of which seemed to prove that for once the Unwiseman was a very wise
+old person.
+
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+THE UNWISEMAN'S FRENCH
+
+
+The following two days passed very slowly for poor Mollie. It wasn't
+that she was not interested in the wonders of the historic Tower which
+she visited and where she saw all the crown jewels, a lot of dungeons
+and a splendid collection of armor and rare objects connected with
+English history; nor in the large number of other things to be seen in
+and about London from Westminster Abbey to Hampton Court and the Thames,
+but that she was lonesome without the Unwiseman. Both she and
+Whistlebinkie had approached the carpet-bag wherein the old gentleman
+lay hidden several times, and had begged him to come out and join them
+in their wanderings, but he not only wouldn't come out, but would not
+answer them. Possibly he did not hear when they called him, possibly he
+was too deeply taken up by his study of French to bother about anything
+else--whatever it was that caused it, he was as silent as though he
+were deaf and dumb.
+
+"Less-sopen-thbag," suggested Whistlebinkie.
+"I-don'-bleeve-hes-sinthera-tall."
+
+"Oh yes he's in there," said Mollie. "I've heard him squeak two or three
+times."
+
+"Waddeesay?" said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"What?" demanded Mollie, with a slight frown.
+
+"What-did-he-say?" asked Whistlebinkie, more carefully.
+
+"I couldn't quite make out," said Mollie. "Sounded like a little pig
+squeaking."
+
+"I guess it was-sfrench," observed Whistlebinkie with a broad grin.
+"Maybe he was saying Wee-wee-wee. That's what little pigs say, and
+Frenchmen too--I've heard 'em."
+
+"Very likely," said Mollie. "I don't know what wee-wee-wee means in
+little pig-talk, but over in Paris it means, 'O yes indeed, you're
+perfectly right about that.'"
+
+"He'll never be able to learn French," laughed Whistlebinkie. "That is
+not so that he can speak it. Do you think he will?"
+
+"That's what I'm anxious to see him for," said Mollie. "I'm just crazy
+to find out how he is getting along."
+
+But all their efforts to get at the old gentleman were, as I have
+already said, unavailing. They knocked on the bag, and whispered and
+hinted and tried every way to draw him out but it was not until the
+little party was half way across the British Channel, on their way to
+France, that the Unwiseman spoke. Then he cried from the depths of the
+carpet bag:
+
+"Hi there--you people outside, what's going on out there, an
+earthquake?"
+
+"Whatid-i-tellu'" whistled Whistlebinkie. "That ain't French.
+Thass-singlish."
+
+"Hallo-outside ahoy!" came the Unwiseman's voice again. "Slidyvoo la
+slide sur le top de cette carpet-bag ici and let me out!"
+
+"That's French!" cried Mollie clapping her hands ecstatically together.
+
+"Then I understand French too!" said Whistlebinkie proudly, "because I
+know what he wants. He wants to get out."
+
+"Do you want to come out, Mr. Unwiseman?" said Mollie bending over the
+carpet-bag, and whispering through the lock.
+
+"Wee-wee-wee," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"More-pig-talk," laughed Whistlebinkie. "He's the little pig that went
+to market."
+
+"No--it was the little pig that stayed at home that said wee, wee, wee
+all day long," said Mollie.
+
+"Je desire to be lettyd out pretty quick if there's un grand big
+earthquake going on," cried the Unwiseman.
+
+Mollie slid the nickeled latch on the top of the carpet-bag along and in
+a moment it flew open.
+
+"Kesserkersayker what's going on out ici?" demanded the Unwiseman, as he
+popped out of the bag. "Je ne jammy knew such a lot of motiong. London
+Bridge ain't falling down again, is it?"
+
+"No," said Mollie. "We're on the boat crossing the British Channel."
+
+"Oh--that's it eh?" said the Unwiseman gazing about him anxiously, and
+looking rather pale, Mollie thought. "Well I thought it was queer. When
+I went to sleep last night everything was as still as Christmas, and
+when I waked up it was movier than a small boy in a candy store. So
+we're on the ocean again eh?"
+
+"Not exactly," said Mollie. "We're on what they call the Channel."
+
+"Seems to me the waves are just as big as they are on the ocean, and the
+water just as wet," said the Unwiseman, as the ship rose and fell with
+the tremendous swell of the sea, thereby adding much to his uneasiness.
+
+"Yes--but it isn't so wide," explained Mollie. "It isn't more than
+thirty miles across."
+
+"Then I don't see why they don't build a bridge over it," said the
+Unwiseman. "This business of a little bit of a piece of water putting on
+airs like an ocean ought to be put a stop to. This motion has really
+very much unsettled--my French. I feel so queer that I can't remember
+even what _la_ means, and as for _kesserkersay_, I've forgotten if it's
+a horse hair sofa or a pair of brass andirons, and I had it all in my
+head not an hour ago. O--d-dud-dear!"
+
+The Unwiseman plunged headlong into his carpet-bag again and pulled the
+top of it to with a snap.
+
+"Oh my, O me!" he groaned from its depths. "O what a wicked channel to
+behave this way. Mollie--Moll-lie--O Mollie I say."
+
+"Well?" said Mollie.
+
+"Far from it--very unwell," groaned the Unwiseman. "Will you be good
+enough to ask the cook for a little salad oil?"
+
+"Mercy," cried Mollie. "You don't want to mix a salad now do you?"
+
+"Goodness, no!" moaned the Unwiseman. "I want you to pour it on those
+waves and sort of clam them down and then, if you don't mind, take the
+carpet-bag----"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie.
+
+"And chuck it overboard," groaned the Unwiseman. "I--I don't feel as if
+I cared ever to hear the dinner-bell again."
+
+Poor Unwiseman! He was suffering the usual fate of those who cross the
+British Channel, which behaves itself at times as if it really did have
+an idea that it was a great big ocean and had an ocean's work to do. But
+fortunately this uneasy body of water is not very wide, and it was not
+long before the travellers landed safe and sound on the solid shores of
+France, none the worse for their uncomfortable trip.
+
+"I guess you were wise not to throw me overboard after all," said the
+Unwiseman, as he came out of the carpet-bag at Calais. "I feel as fine
+as ever now and my lost French has returned."
+
+"I'd like to hear some," said Mollie.
+
+"Very well," replied the Unwiseman carelessly. "Go ahead and ask me a
+question and I'll answer it in French."
+
+"Hm! Let me see," said Mollie wondering how to begin. "Have you had
+breakfast?"
+
+"Wee Munsieur, j'ay le pain," replied the Unwiseman gravely.
+
+"What does that mean?" asked Mollie, puzzled.
+
+"He says he has a pain," said Whistlebinkie with a smile.
+
+"Pooh! Bosh--nothing of the sort," retorted the Unwiseman. "Pain is
+French for bread. When I say 'j'ay le pain' I mean that I've got the
+bread."
+
+"Are you the jay?" asked Whistlebinkie with mischief in his tone.
+
+"Jay in French is I have--not a bird, stupid," retorted the Unwiseman
+indignantly.
+
+"Funny way to talk," sniffed Whistlebinkie. "I should think pain would
+be a better word for pie, or something else that gives you one."
+
+"That's because you don't know," said the Unwiseman. "In addition to the
+pain I've had oofs."
+
+"Oooffs?" cried Whistlebinkie. "What on earth are oooffs?"
+
+"I didn't say oooffs," retorted the Unwiseman, mocking Whistlebinkie's
+accent. "I said oofs. Oofs is French for eggs. Chickens lay oofs in
+France. I had two hard boiled oofs, and my pain had burr and sooker on
+it."
+
+"Burr and sooker?" asked Mollie, wonderingly.
+
+"I know what burr means--it's French for chestnuts," guessed
+Whistlebinkie. "He had chestnuts on his bread."
+
+"Nothing of the sort," said the Unwiseman. "Burr is French for butter
+and has nothing to do with chestnuts. Over here in France a lady goes
+into a butter store and also says avvy-voo-doo burr, and the man behind
+the counter says wee, wee, wee, jay-doo-burr. Jay le bonn-burr. That
+means, yes indeed I've got some of the best butter in the market,
+ma'am."
+
+"And then what does the lady say?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+The Unwiseman's face flushed, and he looked very much embarrassed. It
+always embarrassed the poor old fellow to have to confess that there was
+something he didn't know. Unwisemen as a rule are very sensitive.
+
+"That's as far as the conversation went in my French in Five Lessons,"
+he replied. "And I think it was far enough. For my part I haven't the
+slightest desire to know what the lady said next. Conversation on the
+subject of butter doesn't interest me. She probably asked him how much
+it was a pound, however, if not knowing what she said is going to keep
+you awake nights."
+
+"What's sooker?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Sooker? O that's what the French people call sugar," explained the
+Unwiseman.
+
+"Pooh!" ejaculated Whistlebinkie, scornfully. "What's the use of calling
+it sooker? Sooker isn't any easier to say than sugar."
+
+"It's very much like it, isn't it?" said Mollie.
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "They just drop the H out of sugar, and put
+in the K in place of the two Gees. I think myself when two words are so
+much alike as sooker and shoogger it's foolish to make two languages of
+'em."
+
+"Tell me something more to eat in French," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Fromidge," said the Unwiseman bluntly.
+
+"Fromidge? What's that!" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Cheese," said the Unwiseman. "If you want a cheese sandwich all you've
+got to do is to walk into a calf--calf is French for restaurant--call
+the waiter and say 'Un sandwich de fromidge, silver plate,' and you'll
+get it if you wait long enough. Silver plate means if you please. The
+French are very polite people."
+
+"But how do you call the waiter?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"You just lean back in a chair and call garkon," said the Unwiseman.
+"That's what the book says, but I've heard Frenchmen in London call it
+gas on. I'm going to stick to the book, because it might turn out to be
+an English waiter and it would be very unpleasant to have him turn the
+gas on every time you called him."
+
+"I should say so," cried Whistlebinkie. "You might get gas fixturated."
+
+"You never would," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"Anybody who isn't choked by your conversation could stand all the gas
+fixtures in the world."
+
+"I don't care much for cheese, anyhow," said Whistlebinkie. "Is there
+any French for Beef?"
+
+"O wee, wee, wee!" replied the Unwiseman. "Beef is buff in French.
+Donny-moi-de-buff--"
+
+"Donny-moi-de-buff!" jeered Whistlebinkie, after a roar of laughter.
+"Sounds like baby-talk."
+
+"Well it ain't," returned the Unwiseman severely. "Even Napoleon
+Bonaparte had to talk that way when he wanted beef and I guess the kind
+of talk that was good enough for a great Umpire like him is good enough
+for a rubber squeak like you."
+
+"Then you like French do you, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Oh yes--well enough," said the Unwiseman. "Of course I like American
+better, but I don't see any sense in making fun of French the way
+Fizzledinkie does. It's got some queer things about it like calling a
+cat a chat, and a man a homm, and a lady a femm, and a dog a chi-enn,
+but in the main it's a pretty good language as far as I have got in it.
+There are one or two things in French that I haven't learned to say
+yet, like 'who left my umbrella out in the rain,' and 'has James
+currycombed the saddle-horse with the black spot on his eye and a
+bob-tail this morning,' and 'was that the plumber or the piano tuner I
+saw coming out of the house of your uncle's brother-in-law yesterday
+afternoon,' but now that I'm pretty familiar with it I'm glad I learned
+it. It is disappointing in some ways, I admit. I've been through French
+in Five Lessons four times now, and I haven't found any conversation in
+it about Kitchen-Stoves, which is going to be very difficult for me when
+I get to Paris and try to explain to people there how fine my
+kitchen-stove is. I'm fond of that old stove, and when these furriners
+begin to talk to me about the grandness of their country, I like to hit
+back with a few remarks about my stove, and I don't just see how I'm
+going to do it."
+
+"What's sky-scraper in French?" demanded Whistlebinkie suddenly.
+
+"They don't have sky-scrapers in French," retorted the old gentleman.
+"So your question, like most of the others you ask, is very very
+foolish."
+
+"You think you can get along all right then, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie,
+gazing proudly at the old man and marvelling as to the amount of study
+he must have done in two days.
+
+"I can if I can only get people talking the way I want 'em to," replied
+the Unwiseman. "I've really learned a lot of very polite conversation.
+For instance something like this:
+
+  "Do you wish to go anywhere?
+  No I do not wish to go anywhere.
+  Why don't you wish to go somewhere?
+  Because I've been everywhere.
+  You must have seen much.
+  No I have seen nothing.
+  Is not that rather strange?
+  No it is rather natural.
+  Why?
+  Because to go everywhere one must travel too rapidly to see anything."
+
+"That you see," the Unwiseman went on, "goes very well at a five o'clock
+tea. The only trouble would be to get it started, but if I once got it
+going right, why I could rattle it off in French as easy as falling off
+a log."
+
+"Smity interesting conversation," said Whistlebinkie really delighted.
+
+"I'm glad you find it so," replied the Unwiseman.
+
+"It's far more interesting in French than it is in English."
+
+"Givus-smore," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Give us what?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"Some-more," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well here is a very nice bit that I can do if somebody gives me the
+chance," said the Unwiseman. "It begins:
+
+  "Lend me your silver backed hand-glass.
+  Certainly. Who is that singing in the drawing room?
+  It is my daughter.
+  It is long since I heard anyone sing so well.
+  She has been taking lessons only two weeks.
+  Does she practice on the phonograph or on her Aunt's upright piano?
+  On neither. She accompanies herself upon the banjo.
+  I think she sings almost as well as Miss S.
+  Miss S. has studied for three weeks but Marietta has a better ear.
+  What is your wife's grandmother knitting?
+  A pair of ear-tabs for my nephew Jacques.
+  Ah--then your nephew Jacques too has an ear?
+  My nephew Jacques has two ears.
+  What a musical family!"
+
+"Spul-lendid!" cried Whistlebinkie rapturously. "When do you think you
+can use that?"
+
+"O I may be invited off to a country house to spend a week, somewhere
+outside of Paris," said the Unwiseman, "and if I am, and the chance
+comes up for me to hold that nice little chat with my host, why it will
+make me very popular with everybody. People like to have you take an
+interest in their children, especially when they are musical. Then I
+have learned this to get off at the breakfast-table to my hostess:
+
+  "I have slept well. I have two mattresses and a spring mattress.
+  Will you have another pillow?
+  No thank you I have a comfortable bolster.
+  Is one blanket sufficient for you?
+  Yes, but I would like some wax candles and a box of matches."
+
+"That will show her that I appreciate all the comforts of her beautiful
+household, and at the same time feel so much at home that I am not
+afraid to ask for something else that I happen to want. The thing that
+worries me a little about the last is that there might be an electric
+light in the room, so that asking for a wax candle and a box of matches
+would sound foolish. I gather from the lesson, however, that it is
+customary in France to ask for wax candles and a box of matches, so I'm
+going to do it anyhow. There's nothing like following the customs of
+the natives when you can."
+
+"I'd like to hear you say some of that in French," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Oh you wouldn't understand it, Whistlebinkie," said the Unwiseman.
+"Still I don't mind."
+
+And the old man rattled off the following:
+
+"Avvy-voo kelker chose ah me dire? Avvy-voo bien dormy la nooit
+dernyere? Savvy-voo kieskersayker cetum la avec le nez rouge?
+Kervooly-voo-too-der-sweet-silver-plate-o-see-le-mem. Donny-moi des
+boogies et des alloomettes avec burr et sooker en tasse. La Voila.
+Kerpensy-voo de cette comedie mon cher mounseer de Whistlebinkie?"
+
+"Mercy!" cried Whistlebinkie. "What a language! I don't believe I _ever_
+could learn to speak it."
+
+"You learn to speak it, Whistlebinkie?" laughed the old gentleman. "You?
+Well I guess not. I don't believe you could even learn to squeak it."
+
+With which observation the Unwiseman hopped back into his carpet-bag,
+for the conductor of the train was seen coming up the platform of the
+railway station, and the old gentleman as usual was travelling without a
+ticket.
+
+"I'd rather be caught by an English conductor if I'm going to be caught
+at all," he remarked after the train had started and he was safe. "For I
+find in looking it over that all my talk in French is polite
+conversation, and I don't think there'd be much chance for that in a row
+with a conductor over a missing railway ticket."
+
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+IN PARIS
+
+
+The Unwiseman was up bright and early the next morning. Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie had barely got their eyes open when he came knocking at
+the door.
+
+"Better get up, Mollie," he called in. "It's fine weather and I'm going
+to call on the Umpire. The chances are that on a beautiful day like this
+he'll have a parade and I wouldn't miss it for a farm."
+
+"What Umpire are you talking about?" Mollie replied, opening the door on
+a crack.
+
+"Why Napoleon Bonaparte," said the Unwiseman. "Didn't you ever hear of
+him? He's the man that came up here from Corsica and picked the crown up
+on the street where the king had dropped it by mistake, and put it on
+his own head and made people think he was the whole roil family. He was
+smart enough for an American and I want to tell him so."
+
+"Why he's dead," said Mollie.
+
+"What?" cried the Unwiseman. "Umpire Napoleon dead? Why--when did that
+happen? I didn't see anything about it in the newspapers."
+
+"He died a long time ago," answered Mollie. "Before I was born, I
+guess."
+
+"Well I never!" ejaculated the Unwiseman, his face clouding over. "That
+book I read on the History of France didn't say anything about his being
+dead--that is, not as far as I got in it. Last time I heard of him he
+was starting out for Russia to give the Czar a licking. I supposed he
+thought it was a good time to do it after the Japs had started the ball
+a-rolling. Are you sure about that?"
+
+"Pretty sure," said Mollie. "I don't know very much about French
+history, but I'm almost certain he's dead."
+
+"I'm going down stairs to ask at the office," said the Unwiseman.
+"They'll probably know all about it."
+
+So the little old gentleman pattered down the hall to the elevator and
+went to the office to inquire as to the fate of the Emperor Napoleon. In
+five minutes he was back again.
+
+"Say, Mollie," he whispered through the key-hole. "I wish you'd ask
+your father about the Umpire. I can't seem to find out anything about
+him."
+
+"Don't they know at the office?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Oh I guess they know all right," said the Unwiseman, "but there's a
+hitch somewhere in my getting the information. Far as I can find out
+these people over here don't understand their own language. I asked 'em
+in French, like this: 'Mounseer le Umpire, est il mort?' And they told
+me he was _no_ more. Now whether _no_ more means that he is not mort, or
+_is_ mort, depends on what language the man who told me was speaking. If
+he was speaking French he's not dead. If he was speaking English he _is_
+dead, and there you are. It's awfully mixed up."
+
+"I-guess-seez-ded-orright," whistled Whistlebinkie. "He was dead last
+time I heard of him, and I guess when they're dead once there dead for
+good."
+
+"Well you never can tell," said the Unwiseman. "He was a very great man,
+the Umpire Napoleon was, and they might have only thought he was dead
+while he was playing foxy to see what the newspapers would say about
+him."
+
+So Mollie asked her father and to the intense regret of everybody it
+turned out that the great Emperor had been dead for a long time.
+
+"It's a very great disappointment to me," sighed the Unwiseman, when
+Mollie conveyed the sad news to him. "The minute I knew we were coming
+to France I began to read up about the country, and Napoleon Bonaparte
+was one of the things I came all the way over to see. Are the Boys de
+Bologna dead too?"
+
+"I never heard of them," said Mollie.
+
+"I feel particularly upset about the Umpire," continued the Unwiseman,
+"because I sat up almost all last night getting up some polite
+conversation to be held with him this morning. I found just the thing
+for it in my book."
+
+"Howdit-go?" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Like this," said the Unwiseman. "I was going to begin with:
+
+  "'Shall you buy a horse?'
+
+"And the Umpire was to say:
+
+  "'I should like to buy a horse from you.'
+
+"And then we were to continue with:
+
+  "'I have no horse but I will sell you my dog.'
+  'You are wrong; dogs are such faithful creatures.'
+  'But my wife prefers cats----'"
+
+"Pooh!" cried Whistlebinkie. "You haven't got any wife."
+
+"Well, what of it?" retorted the Unwiseman. "The Umpire wouldn't know
+that, and besides she _would_ prefer cats if I had one. You should not
+interrupt conversation when other people are talking, Whistlebinkie,
+especially when it's polite conversation."
+
+"Orright-I-pol-gize," whistled Whistlebinkie. "Go on with the rest of
+it."
+
+"I was then going to say:" continued the Unwiseman,
+
+  "'Will you go out this afternoon?'
+  'I should like to go out this afternoon.'
+  'Should you remain here if your mother were here?'
+  'Yes I should remain here even if my aunt were here.'
+  'Had you remained here I should not have gone out.'
+  'I shall have finished when you come.'
+  'As soon as you have received your money come to see me.'
+  'I do not know yet whether we shall leave tomorrow.'
+  'I should have been afraid had you not been with me.'
+  'So long.'
+  'To the river.'"
+
+"To the river?" asked Whistlebinkie. "What does that mean?"
+
+"It is French for, 'I hope we shall meet again.' Au river is the polite
+way of saying, 'good-bye for a little while.' And to think that after
+having sat up until five o'clock this morning learning all that by heart
+I should find that the man I was going to say it to has been dead
+for--how many years, Mollie?"
+
+"Oh nearly a hundred years," said the little girl.
+
+"No wonder it wasn't in the papers before I left home," said the
+Unwiseman. "Oh well, never mind----."
+
+"Perhaps you can swing that talk around so as to fit some French
+Robert," suggested Whistlebinkie.
+
+"The Police are not Roberts over here," said the Unwiseman. "In France
+they are Johns--John Darms is what they call the pleece in this country,
+and I never should think of addressing a conversation designed for an
+Umpire to the plebean ear of a mere John."
+
+"Well I think it was pretty poor conversation," said Whistlebinkie. "And
+I guess it's lucky for you the Umpire is dead. All that stuff didn't
+mean anything."
+
+"It doesn't seem to mean much in English," said the Unwiseman, "but it
+must mean something in French, because if it didn't the man who wrote
+French in Five Lessons wouldn't have considered it important enough to
+print. Just because you don't like a thing, or don't happen to
+understand it, isn't any reason for believing that the Umpire would not
+find it extremely interesting. I shan't waste it on a John anyhow."
+
+An hour or two later when Mollie had breakfasted the Unwiseman presented
+himself again.
+
+"I'm very much afraid I'm not going to like this place any better than I
+did London," he said. "The English people, even if they do drop their
+aitches all over everywhere, understand their own language, which is
+more than these Frenchmen do. I have tried my French on half a dozen of
+them and there wasn't one of 'em that looked as if he knew what I was
+talking about."
+
+"What did you say to them?" asked Mollie.
+
+[Illustration: "HAVE YOU SEEN THE ORMOLU CLOCK OF YOUR SISTER'S MUSIC
+TEACHER?"]
+
+"Well I went up to a cabman and remarked, just as the book put it, 'how
+is the sister of your mother's uncle,' and he acted as if I'd hit him
+with a brick," said the Unwiseman. "Then I stopped a bright looking boy
+out on the rue and said to him, 'have you seen the ormolu clock of your
+sister's music teacher,' to which he should have replied, 'no I have not
+seen the ormolu clock of my sister's music teacher, but the candle-stick
+of the wife of the butcher of my cousin's niece is on the mantel-piece,'
+but all he did was to stick out his tongue at me and laugh."
+
+"You ought to have spoken to one of the John Darms," laughed
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I did," said the Unwiseman. "I stopped one outside the door and asked
+him, 'is your grandfather still alive?' The book says the answer to that
+is 'yes, and my grandmother also,' whereupon I should ask, 'how many
+grandchildren has your grandfather?' But I didn't get beyond the first
+question. Instead of telling me that his grandfather was living, and his
+grandmother also, he said something about Ally Voozon, a person of whom
+I never heard and who is not mentioned in the book at all. I wish I
+was back somewhere where they speak a language somebody can understand."
+
+"Have you had your breakfast?" asked Mollie.
+
+A deep frown came upon the face of the Unwiseman.
+
+"No--" he answered shortly. "I--er--I went to get some but they tried to
+cheat me," he added. "There was a sign in a window announcing French
+Tabble d'hotes. I thought it was some new kind of a breakfast food like
+cracked wheat, or oat-meal flakes, so I stopped in and asked for a small
+box of it, and they tried to make me believe it was a meal of four or
+five courses, with soup and fish and a lot of other things thrown in,
+that had to be eaten on the premises. I wished for once that I knew some
+French conversation that wasn't polite to tell 'em what I thought of
+'em. I can imagine a lot of queer things, but when everybody tells me
+that oats are soup and fish and olives and ice-cream and several other
+things to boot, even in French, why I just don't believe it, that's all.
+What's more I can prove that oats are oats over here because I saw a
+cab-horse eating some. I may not know beans but I know oats, and I told
+'em so. Then the garkon--I know why some people call these French
+waiters gason now, they talk so much--the garkon said I could order _a
+la carte_, and I told him I guessed I could if I wanted to, but until I
+was reduced to a point where I had to eat out of a wagon I wouldn't ask
+his permission."
+
+"Good-for-you!" whistled Whistlebinkie, clapping the Unwiseman on the
+back.
+
+"When a man wants five cents worth of oats it's a regular swindle to try
+to ram forty cents worth of dinner down his throat, especially at
+breakfast time, and I for one just won't have it," said the Unwiseman.
+"By the way, I wouldn't eat any fish over here if I were you, Mollie,"
+he went on.
+
+"Why not?" asked the little girl. "Isn't it fresh?"
+
+"It isn't that," said the Unwiseman. "It's because over here it's
+poison."
+
+"No!" cried Mollie.
+
+"Yep," said the Unwiseman. "They admit it themselves. Just look here."
+
+The old gentleman opened his book on French in Five Lessons, and turned
+to the back pages where English words found their French equivalents.
+
+"See that?" he observed, pointing to the words. "Fish--poison.
+P-O-I-double S-O-N. 'Taint spelled right, but that's what it says."
+
+"It certainly does," said Mollie, very much surprised.
+
+"Smity good thing you had that book or you might have been poisoned,"
+said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I don't believe your father knows about that, does he, Mollie?" asked
+the old man anxiously.
+
+"I'm afraid not," said Mollie. "Leastways, he hasn't said anything to me
+about it, and I'm pretty sure if he'd known it he would have told me not
+to eat any."
+
+"Well you tell him with my compliments," said the Unwiseman. "I like
+your father and I'd hate to have anything happen to him that I could
+prevent. I'm going up the rue now to the Loover to see the pictures."
+
+"Up the what?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Up the rue," said the Unwiseman. "That's what these foolish people over
+here call a street. I'm going up the street. There's a guide down
+stairs who says he'll take me all over Paris in one day for three
+dollars, and we're going to start in ten minutes, after I've had a
+spoonful of my bottled chicken broth and a ginger-snap. Humph! Tabble
+d'hotes--when I've got a bag full of first class food from New York! I
+tell you, Mollie, this travelling around in furry countries makes a man
+depreciate American things more than ever."
+
+"I guess you mean _ap_preciate," suggested Mollie.
+
+"May be I do," returned the Unwiseman. "I mean I like 'em better.
+American oats are better than tabble d'hotes. American beef is better
+than French buff. American butter is better than foreign burr, and while
+their oofs are pretty good, when I eat eggs I want eggs, and not
+something else with a hard-boiled accent on it that twists my tongue out
+of shape. And when people speak a language I like 'em to have one they
+can understand when it's spoken to them like good old Yankamerican."
+
+"Hoorray for-Ramerrica!" cried Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Ditto hic, as Julius Cæsar used to say," roared the Unwiseman.
+
+And the Unwiseman took what was left of his bottleful of their native
+land out of his pocket and the three little travellers cheered it until
+the room fairly echoed with the noise. That night when they had gathered
+together again, the Unwiseman looked very tired.
+
+"Well, Mollie," he said, "I've seen it all. That guide down stairs
+showed me everything in the place and I'm going to retire to my
+carpet-bag again until you're ready to start for Kayzoozalum----"
+
+"Swizz-izzer-land," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Switzerland," said Mollie.
+
+"Well wherever it is we're going Alp hunting," said the Unwiseman. "I'm
+too tired to say a word like that to-night. My tongue is all out of
+shape anyhow trying to talk French and I'm not going to speak it any
+more. It's not the sort of language I admire--just full o' nonsense.
+When people call pudding 'poo-dang' and a bird a 'wazzoh' I'm through
+with it. I've seen 8374 miles of pictures; some more busted statuary;
+one cathedral--I thought a cathedral was some kind of an animal with a
+hairy head and a hump on its back, but it's nothing but a big overgrown
+church--; Napoleon's tomb--he is dead after all and France is a
+Republic, as if we didn't have a big enough Republic home without coming
+over here to see another--; one River Seine, which ain't much bigger
+than the Erie Canal, and not a trout or a snapping turtle in it from
+beginning to end; the Boys de Bologna, which is only a Park, with no
+boys or sausages anywhere about it; the Champs Eliza; an obelisk; and
+about sixteen palaces without a King or an Umpire in the whole lot; and
+I've paid three dollars for it, and I'm satisfied. I'd be better
+satisfied if I'd paid a dollar and a half, but you can't travel for
+nothing, and I regard the extra dollar and fifty cents as well spent
+since I've learned what to do next time."
+
+"Wass-that?" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Stay home," said the Unwiseman. "Home's good enough for me and when I
+get there I'm going to stay there. Good night."
+
+And with that the Unwiseman jumped into his carpet-bag and for a week
+nothing more was heard of him.
+
+"I hope he isn't sick," said Whistlebinkie, at the end of that period.
+"I think we ought to go and find out, don't you, Mollie."
+
+"I certainly do," said Mollie. "I know I should be just stufficated to
+death if I'd spent a week in a carpet-bag."
+
+So they tip-toed up to the side of the carpet-bag and listened. At first
+there was no sound to be heard, and then all of a sudden their fears
+were set completely at rest by the cracked voice of their strange old
+friend singing the following patriotic ballad of his own composition:
+
+  "Next time I start out for to travel abroad
+    I'll go where pure English is spoken.
+  I'll put on my shoes and go sailing toward
+    The beautiful land of Hoboken.
+
+  "No more on that movey old channel I'll sail,
+    The sickening waves to be tossed on,
+  But do all my travelling later by rail
+    And visit that frigid old Boston.
+
+  "Nay never again will I step on a ship
+    And go as a part of the cargo,
+  But when I would travel I'll make my next trip
+    Out west to the town of Chicago.
+
+  "My sweet carpet-bag, you will never again
+    Be called on to cross the Atlantic.
+  We'll just buy a ticket and take the first train
+    To marvellous old Williamantic.
+
+  "No French in the future will I ever speak
+    With strange and impossible, answers.
+  I'd rather go in for that curious Greek
+    The natives all speak in Arkansas.
+
+  "To London and Paris let other folks go
+    I'm utterly cured of the mania.
+  Hereafter it's me for the glad Ohi-o,
+    Or down in dear sweet Pennsylvania.
+
+  "If any one asks me to cross o'er the sea
+    I'll answer them promptly, 'No thanky--
+  There's beauty enough all around here for me
+    In this glorious land of the Yankee.'"
+
+Mollie laughed as the Unwiseman's voice died away.
+
+"I guess he's all right, Whistlebinkie," she said. "Anybody who can sing
+like that can't be very sick."
+
+"No I guess not," said Whistlebinkie. "He seems to have got his tongue
+out of tangle again. I was awfully worried about that."
+
+"Why, dear?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Because," said Whistlebinkie, "I was afraid if he didn't he'd begin to
+talk like me and that would be perf'ly awful."
+
+
+
+
+X.
+
+THE ALPS AT LAST
+
+
+When the Unwiseman came out of the carpet-bag again the travellers had
+reached Switzerland. Every effort that Mollie and Whistlebinkie made to
+induce him to come forth and go about Paris with them had wholly failed.
+
+"It's more comfortable in here," he had answered them, "and I've got my
+hands full forgetting all that useless French I learned last week. It's
+very curious how much harder it is to forget French than it is to learn
+it. I've been four days forgetting that wazzoh means bird and that oofs
+is eggs."
+
+"And you haven't forgotten it yet, have you," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"O yes," said the Unwiseman. "I've forgotten it entirely. It
+occasionally occurs to me that it is so when people mention the fact,
+but in the main I am now able to overlook it. I'll be glad when we are
+on our way again, Mollie, because between you and me I think they're a
+lot of frauds here too, just like over in England. They've got a statue
+here of a lady named Miss Jones of Ark and I _know_ there wasn't any
+such person on it. Shem and Ham and Japhet and their wives, and Noah,
+and Mrs. Noah were there but no Miss Jones."
+
+"Maybe Mrs. Noah or Mrs. Shem or one of the others was Miss Jones before
+she married Mr. Noah or Shem, Ham or Japhet," suggested Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Then they should ought to have said so," said the Unwiseman, "and put
+up the statue to Mrs. Noah or Mrs. Shem or Mrs. Ham or Mrs. Japhet--but
+they weren't the same person because this Miss Jones got burnt cooking a
+steak and Mrs. Noah and Mrs. Ham and Mrs. Shem and Mrs. Japhet didn't.
+Miss Jones was a great general according to these people and there
+wasn't any military at all in the time of Noah for a lady to be general
+of, so the thing just can't help being a put up job just to deceive us
+Americans into coming over here to see their curiosities and paying
+guides three dollars for leading us to them."
+
+"Then you won't come with us out to Versailles?" asked Mollie very much
+disappointed.
+
+"Versailles?" asked the Unwiseman. "What kind of sails are Versailles?
+Some kind of a French cat-boat? If so, none of that for me. I'm not fond
+of sailing."
+
+"It's a town with a beautiful palace in it," explained Mollie.
+
+"That settles it," said the Unwiseman. "I'll stay here. I've seen all
+the palaces without any kings in 'em that I need in my business, so you
+can just count me out. I may go out shopping this afternoon and buy an
+air-gun to shoot alps with when we get to--ha--hum----"
+
+"Switzerland," prompted Mollie hurriedly, largely with the desire to
+keep Whistlebinkie from speaking of Swiz-izzer-land.
+
+"Precisely," said the Unwiseman. "If you'd given me time I'd have
+said it myself. I've been practising on that name ever since yesterday
+and I've got so I can say it right five times out of 'leven.
+And I'm learning to yodel too. I have discovered that down
+in--ha--hum--Swztoozalum, when people don't feel like speaking French,
+they yodel, and I think I can get along better in yodeling than I can in
+French. I'm going to try it anyhow. So run along and have a good time
+and don't worry about me. I'm having a fine time. Yodeling is really
+lots of fun. Trala-la-lio!"
+
+So Mollie and Whistlebinkie went to Versailles, which by the way is not
+pronounced Ver-sails, but Ver-sai-ee, and left the Unwiseman to his own
+devices. A week later the party arrived at Chamounix, a beautiful little
+Swiss village lying in the valley at the base of Mont Blanc, the most
+famous of all the Alps.
+
+"Looks-slike-a-gray-big-snow-ball," whistled Whistlebinkie, gazing
+admiringly at the wonderful mountain glistening like a huge mass of
+silver in the sunlight.
+
+"It is beautiful," said Mollie. "We must get the Unwiseman out to see
+it."
+
+"I'll call him," said Whistlebinkie eagerly; and the little rubber-doll
+bounded off to the carpet-bag as fast as his legs would carry him.
+
+"Hi there, Mister Me," he called breathlessly through the key-hole.
+"Come out. There's a nalp out in front of the hotel."
+
+"Tra-la-lulio-tra-la-lali-ee," yodeled the cracked little voice from
+within. "Tra-la-la-la-lalio."
+
+"Hullo there," cried Whistlebinkie again. "Stop that tra-la-lody-ing and
+hurry out, there's a-nalp in front of the hotel."
+
+"A nalp?" said the Unwiseman popping his head up from the middle of the
+bag for all the world like a Jack-in-the-box. "What's a nalp?"
+
+"A-alp," explained Whistlebinkie, as clearly as he could--he was so out
+of breath he could hardly squeak, much less speak.
+
+"Really?" cried the Unwiseman, all excitement. "Dear me--glad you called
+me. Is he loose?"
+
+"Well," hesitated Whistlebinkie, hardly knowing how to answer,
+"it-ain't-exactly-tied up, I guess."
+
+"Ain't any danger of its coming into the house and biting people, is
+there?" asked the Unwiseman, rummaging through the carpet-bag for his
+air-gun, which he had purchased in Paris while the others were visiting
+Versailles.
+
+"No," laughed Whistlebinkie. "Tstoo-big."
+
+"Mercy--it must be a fearful big one," said the Unwiseman. "I hope it's
+muzzled."
+
+Armed with his air-gun, and carrying a long rope with a noose in one end
+over his arm, the Unwiseman started out.
+
+"Watcher-gone-'tdo-with-the-lassoo?" panted Whistlebinkie, struggling
+manfully to keep up with his companion.
+
+"That's to tie him up with in case I catch him alive," said the
+Unwiseman, as they emerged from the door of the hotel and stood upon the
+little hotel piazza from which all the new arrivals were gazing at the
+wonderful peak before them, rising over sixteen thousand feet into the
+heavens, and capped forever with a crown of snow and ice.
+
+[Illustration: "OUT THE WAY THERE!" CRIED THE UNWISEMAN]
+
+"Out the way there!" cried the Unwiseman, rushing valiantly through the
+group. "Out the way, and don't talk or even yodel. I must have a steady
+aim, and conversation disturbs my nerves."
+
+The hotel guests all stepped hastily to one side and made room for the
+hero, who on reaching the edge of the piazza stopped short and gazed
+about him with a puzzled look on his face.
+
+"Well," he cried impatiently, "where is he?"
+
+"Where is what?" asked Mollie, stepping up to the Unwiseman's side and
+putting her hand affectionately on his shoulder.
+
+"That Alp?" said the Unwiseman. "Whistlebinkie said there was an alp
+running around the yard and I've come down either to catch him alive or
+shoot him. He hasn't hid under this piazza, has he?"
+
+"No, Mr. Me," she said. "They couldn't get an Alp under this piazza.
+That's it over there," she added, pointing out Mont Blanc.
+
+"What's it? I don't see anything but a big snow drift," said the
+Unwiseman. "Queer sort of people here--must be awful lazy not to have
+their snow shoveled off as late as July."
+
+"That's the Alp," explained Mollie.
+
+"Tra-la-lolly-O!" yodeled the Unwiseman. "Which is yodelese for
+nonsense. That an Alp? Why I thought an Alp was a sort of animal with a
+shaggy fur coat like a bear or a chauffeur, and about the size of a
+rhinoceros."
+
+"No," said Mollie. "An Alp is a mountain. All that big range of
+mountains with snow and ice on top of them are the Alps. Didn't you know
+that?"
+
+The Unwiseman didn't answer, but with a yodel of disgust turned on his
+heel and went back to his carpet-bag.
+
+"You aren't mad at me, are you, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie, following meekly
+after.
+
+"No indeed," said the Unwiseman, sadly. "Of course not. It isn't your
+fault if an Alp is a toboggan slide or a skating rink instead of a wild
+animal. It's all my own fault. I was very careless to come over here and
+waste my time to see a lot of snow that ain't any colder or wetter than
+the stuff we have delivered at our front doors at home in winter. I
+should ought to have found out what it was before I came."
+
+"It's very beautiful though as it is," suggested Mollie.
+
+"I suppose so," said the Unwiseman. "But I don't have to travel four
+thousand miles to see beautiful things while I have my kitchen-stove
+right there in my own kitchen. Besides I've spent a dollar and twenty
+cents on an air-gun, and sixty cents for a lassoo to hunt Alps with,
+when I might better have bought a snow shovel. _That's_ really what I'm
+mad at. If I'd bought a snow shovel and a pair of ear-tabs I could have
+made some money here offering to shovel the snow off that hill there
+so's somebody could get some pleasure out of it. It would be a lovely
+place to go and sit on a warm summer evening if it wasn't for that snow
+and very likely they'd have paid me two or three dollars for fixing it
+up for them."
+
+"I guess it would take you several hours to do it," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"What if it took a week?" retorted the Unwiseman. "As long as they were
+willing to pay for it. But what's the use of talking about it? I haven't
+got a shovel, and I can't shovel the snow off an Alp with an air-gun, so
+that's the end of it."
+
+And for the time being that _was_ the end of it. The Unwiseman very
+properly confined himself to the quiet of the carpet-bag until his wrath
+had entirely disappeared, and after luncheon he turned up cheerily in
+the office of the hotel.
+
+"Let's hire a couple of sleds and go coasting," he suggested to Mollie.
+"That Mount Blank looks like a pretty good hill. Whistlebinkie and I can
+pull you up to the top and it will be a fine slide coming back."
+
+But inquiry at the office brought out the extraordinary fact that there
+were no sleds in the place and never had been.
+
+"My goodness!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "I never knew such people. I
+don't wonder these Switzers ain't a great nation like us Americans. I
+don't believe any American hotel-keeper would have as much snow as that
+in his back-yard all summer long and not have a regular sled company to
+accommodate guests who wanted to go coasting on it. If they had an Alp
+like that over at Atlantic City they'd build a fence around it, and
+charge ten cents to get inside, where you could hire a colored gentleman
+to haul you up to the top of the hill and guide you down again on the
+return slide."
+
+"I guess they would," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Then they'd turn part of it into an ice quarry," the Unwiseman went on,
+"and sell great huge chunks of ice to people all the year round and put
+the regular ice men out of business. I've half a mind to write home to
+my burgular and tell him here's a chance to earn an honest living as an
+iceman. He could get up a company to come here and buy up that hill and
+just regularly go in for ice-mining. There never was such a chance. If
+people can make money out of coal mines and gold mines and copper
+mines, I don't see why they can't do the same thing with ice mines. Why
+don't you speak to your Papa about it, Mollie? He'd make his everlasting
+fortune."
+
+"I will," said Mollie, very much interested in the idea.
+
+"And all that snow up there going to waste too," continued the Unwiseman
+growing enthusiastic over the prospect. "Just think of the millions of
+people who can't get cool in summer over home. Your father could sell
+snow to people in midsummer for six-fifty a ton, and they could shovel
+it into their furnaces and cool off their homes ten or twenty degrees
+all summer long. My goodness--talk about your billionaires--here's a
+chance for squillions."
+
+The Unwiseman paced the floor excitedly. The vision of wealth that
+loomed up before his mind's eye was so vast that he could hardly contain
+himself in the face of it.
+
+"Wouldn't it all melt before he could get it over to America?" asked
+Mollie.
+
+"Why should it?" demanded the Unwiseman. "If it don't melt here in
+summer time why should it melt anywhere else? I don't believe snow was
+ever disagreeable just for the pleasure of being so."
+
+"Wouldn't it cost a lot to take it over?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Not if the Company owned its own ships," said the Unwiseman. "If the
+Company owned its own ships it could carry it over for nothing."
+
+The Unwiseman was so carried away with the possibilities of his plan
+that for several days he could talk of nothing else, and several times
+Mollie and Whistlebinkie found him working in the writing room of the
+hotel on what he called his Perspectus.
+
+"I'm going to work out that idea of mine, Mollie," he explained, "so
+that you can show it to your father and maybe he'll take it up, and if
+he does--well, I'll have a man to exercise my umbrella, a pair of wings
+built on my house where I can put a music room and a library, and have
+my kitchen-stove nickel plated as it deserves to be for having served me
+so faithfully for so many years."
+
+An hour or two later, his face beaming with pleasure, the Unwiseman
+brought Mollie his completed "Perspectus" with the request that she
+show it to her father. It read as follows:
+
+THE SWITZER SNOW AND ICE CO.
+
+THE UNWISEMAN, _President_.
+
+MR. MOLLIE J. WHISTLEBINKIE, _Vice-President_.
+
+A. BURGULAR, _Seketary and Treasurer_.
+
+      I. To purchase all right, title, and interest in one first class
+      Alp known as Mount Blank, a snow-clad peak located at
+      Switzerville, Europe. For further perticulars, see Map if you have
+      one handy that is any good and has been prepared by somebody what
+      has studied jography before.
+
+      II. To orginize the Mount Blank Toboggan Slide and Sled Company
+      and build a fence around it for the benefit of the young at ten
+      cents ahead, using the surplus snow and ice on Mount Blank for
+      this purpose. Midsummer coasting a speciality.
+
+      III. To mine ice and to sell the same by the pound, ton, yard, or
+      shipload, to Americans at one cent less a pound, ton, yard, or
+      shipload, than they are now paying to unscrupulous ice-men at
+      home, thereby putting them out of business and bringing ice in
+      midsummer within the reach of persons of modest means to keep
+      their provisions on, who without it suffer greatly from the heat
+      and are sometimes sun-struck.
+
+      IV. To gather and sell snow to the American people in summer time
+      for the purpose of cooling off their houses by throwing the same
+      into the furnace like coal in winter, thereby taking down the
+      thermometer two or three inches and making fans unnecessary, and
+      killing mosquitoes, flies and other animals that ain't of any use
+      and can only live in warm weather.
+
+      V. Also to sell a finer quality of snow for use at children's
+      parties in the United States of America in July and August where
+      snow-ball fights are not now possible owing to the extreme
+      tenderness of the snow at present provided by the American climate
+      which causes it to melt along about the end of March and disappear
+      entirely before the beginning of May.
+
+      VI. Also to sell snow at redoosed rates to people at Christmas
+      Time when they don't always have it as they should ought to have
+      if Christmas is to look anything like the real thing and give boys
+      and girls a chance to try their new sleds and see if they are as
+      good as they are cracked up to be instead of having to be put away
+      as they sometimes are until February and even then it don't always
+      last.
+
+      This Company has already been formed by Mr. Thomas S. Me, better
+      known as the Unwiseman, who is hereby elected President thereof,
+      with a capital of ten million dollars of which three dollars has
+      already been paid in to Mr. Me as temporary treasurer by himself
+      in real money which may be seen upon application as a guarantee of
+      good faith. The remaining nine million nine hundred and
+      ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven dollars worth
+      is offered to the public at one dollar a share payable in any kind
+      of money that will circulate freely, one half of which will be
+      used as profits for the next five years while the Company is
+      getting used to its new business, and the rest will be spent under
+      the direction of the President as he sees fit, it being understood
+      that none of it shall be used to buy eclairs or other personal
+      property with.
+
+"There," said the Unwiseman, as he finished the prospectus. "Just you
+hand that over to your father, Mollie, and see what he says. If he don't
+start the ball a-rolling and buy that old Mountain before we leave this
+place I shall be very much surprised."
+
+But the Unwiseman's grand scheme never went through for Mollie's father
+upon inquiry found that nobody about Chamounix cared to sell his
+interest in the mountain, or even to suggest a price for it.
+
+"They're afraid to sell it I imagine," said Mollie's father, "for fear
+the new purchasers would dig it up altogether and take it over to the
+United States. You see if that were to happen it would leave an awfully
+big hole in the place where Mount Blank used to be and there'd be a lot
+of trouble getting it filled in."
+
+For all of which I am sincerely sorry because there are times in
+midsummer in America when I would give a great deal if some such
+enterprise as a "Switzer Snow & Ice Co." would dump a few tons of snow
+into my cellar for use in the furnace.
+
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+THE UNWISEMAN PLANS A CHAMOIS COMPANY
+
+
+The Unwiseman's disappointment over the failure of his Switzer Snow &
+Ice Company was very keen at first and the strange old gentleman was
+inclined to be as thoroughly disgusted with Switzerland as he had been
+with London and Paris. He was especially put out when, after travelling
+seven or eight miles to see a "glazier," as he called it, he discovered
+that a glacier was not a frozen "window-pane mender" but a stream of ice
+flowing perennially down from the Alpine summits into the valleys.
+
+"They bank too much on their snow-drifts over here," he remarked, after
+he had visited the _Mer-de-Glace_. "I wouldn't give seven cents to _see_
+a thing like that when I've been brought up close to New York where we
+have blizzards every once in a while that tie up the whole city till it
+looks like one glorious big snow-ball fight."
+
+And then when he wanted to go fishing in one of the big fissures of the
+glacier, and was told he could drop a million lines down there without
+getting a bite of any kind he announced his intention of getting out of
+the country as soon as he possibly could. But after all the Unwiseman
+had a naturally sun-shiny disposition and this added to the wonderful
+air of Switzerland, which in itself is one of the most beautiful things
+in a beautiful world, soon brought him out of his sulky fit and set him
+to yodeling once more as gaily as a Swiss Mountain boy. He began to see
+some of the beauties of the country and his active little mind was not
+slow at discovering advantages not always clear to people with less
+inquisitiveness.
+
+"I should think," he observed to Mollie one morning as he gazed up at
+Mount Blanc's pure white summit, "that this would be a great ice-cream
+country. I'd like to try the experiment of pasturing a lot of fine
+Jersey cows up on those ice-fields. Just let 'em browze around one of
+those glaciers every day for a week and give 'em a cupful of vanilla, or
+chocolate extract or a strawberry once in a while and see if they
+wouldn't give ice-cream instead o' milk. It would be worth trying,
+anyhow."
+
+Mollie thought it would and Whistlebinkie gave voice to a long low
+whistle of delight at the idea.
+
+"It-ud-be-bettern-soder-watter-rany-way!" he whistled.
+
+"Anything would be better than soda water," said the Unwiseman, who had
+only tried it once and got nothing but the bubbles. "Soda water's too
+foamy for me. It's like drinking whipped air."
+
+But the thing that pleased the Unwiseman more than anything else was a
+pet chamois that he encountered at a little Swiss Chalet on one of his
+tours of investigation. It was a cunning little animal, very timid of
+course, like a fawn, but tame, and for some reason or other it took
+quite a fancy to the Unwiseman--possibly because he looked so like a
+Swiss Mountain Boy with a peaked cap he had purchased, and ribbons wound
+criss-cross around his calves and his magnificent Alpen-stock upon which
+had been burned the names of all the Alps he had _not_ climbed. And then
+the Unwiseman's yodel had become something unusually fine and original
+in the line of yodeling, which may have attracted the chamois and made
+him feel that the Unwiseman was a person to be trusted. At any rate the
+little animal instead of running away and jumping from crag to crag at
+the Unwiseman's approach, as most chamois would do, came inquiringly up
+to him and stuck out its soft velvety nose to be scratched, and
+permitted the Unwiseman to inspect its horns and silky chestnut-brown
+coat as if it recognized in the little old man a true and tried friend
+of long standing.
+
+"Why you little beauty you!" cried the Unwiseman, as he sat on the fence
+and stroked the beautiful creature's neck. "So you're what they call a
+shammy, eh?"
+
+The chamois turned its lovely eyes upon his new found friend, and then
+lowered his head to have it scratched again.
+
+  "Mary had a little sham
+    Whose hide was soft as cotton,
+  And everywhere that Mary went
+    The shammy too went trottin'."
+
+sang the Unwiseman, dropping into poetry as was one of his habits when
+he was deeply moved.
+
+[Illustration: THE CHAMOIS EVIDENTLY LIKED THIS VERSE FOR ITS EYES
+TWINKLED]
+
+The chamois evidently liked this verse for its eyes twinkled and it laid
+its head gently on the Unwiseman's knee and looked at him appealingly as
+if to say, "More of that poetry please. You are a bard after my own
+heart." So the Unwiseman went on, keeping time to his verse by slight
+taps on the chamois' nose.
+
+  "It followed her to town one day
+    Unto the Country Fair,
+  And earned five hundred dollars just
+    In shining silver-ware."
+
+Whistlebinkie indulged in a loud whistle of mirth at this, which so
+startled the little creature that it leapt backward fifteen feet in the
+air and landed on top of a small pump at the rear of the yard, and stood
+there poised on its four feet just like the chamois we see in pictures
+standing on a sharp peak miles up in the air, trembling just a little
+for fear that Whistlebinkie's squeak would be repeated. A moment of
+silence seemed to cure this, however, for in less than two minutes it
+was back again at the Unwiseman's side gazing soulfully at him as if
+demanding yet another verse. Of course the Unwiseman could not
+resist--he never could when people demanded poetry from him, it came
+so very easy--and so he continued:
+
+  "The children at the Country Fair
+    Indulged in merry squawks
+  To see the shammy polishing
+    The family knives and forks.
+
+  "The tablespoons, and coffee pots,
+    The platters and tureens,
+  The top of the mahogany,
+    And crystal fire-screens."
+
+"More!" pleaded the chamois with his soft eyes, snuggling its head close
+into the Unwiseman's lap, and the old gentleman went on:
+
+  "'O isn't he a wondrous kid!'
+    The wondering children cried.
+  We didn't know a shammy could
+    Do such things if he tried.
+
+  "And Mary answered with a smile
+    That dimpled up her chin
+  'There's much that shammy's cannot do,
+  But much that shammy-skin.'"
+
+Whistlebinkie's behavior at this point became so utterly and inexcusably
+boisterous with mirth that the confiding little chamois was again
+frightened away and this time it gave three rapid leaps into the air
+which landed it ultimately upon the ridge-pole of the chalet, from
+which it wholly refused to descend, in spite of all the persuasion in
+the world, for the rest of the afternoon.
+
+"Very intelligent little animal that," said the Unwiseman, as he trudged
+his way home. "A very high appreciation of true poetry, inclined to make
+friendship with the worthy, and properly mistrustful of people full of
+strange noises and squeaks."
+
+"He was awfully pretty, wasn't he," said Mollie.
+
+"Yes, but he was better than pretty," observed the Unwiseman. "He could
+be made useful. Things that are only pretty are all very well in their
+way, but give me the useful things--like my kitchen-stove for instance.
+If that kitchen-stove was only pretty do you suppose I'd love it the way
+I do? Not at all. I'd just put it on the mantel-piece, or on the piano
+in my parlor and never think of it a second time, but because it is
+useful I pay attention to it every day, polish it with stove polish,
+feed it with coal and see that the ashes are removed from it when its
+day's work is done. Nobody ever thinks of doing such things with a plain
+piece of bric-a-brac that can't be used for anything at all. You don't
+put any coal or stove polish on that big Chinese vase you have in your
+parlor, do you?"
+
+"No," said Mollie, "of course not."
+
+"And I'll warrant that in all the time you've had that opal glass jug on
+the mantel-piece of your library you never shook the ashes down in it
+once," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"Mity-goo-dreeson-wy!" whistled Whistlebinkie. "They-ain't never no
+ashes in it."
+
+"Correct though ungrammatically expressed," observed the Unwiseman.
+"There never are any ashes in it to be shaken down, which is a pretty
+good reason to believe that it is never used to fry potatoes on or to
+cook a chop with, or to roast a turkey in--which proves exactly what I
+say that it is only pretty and isn't half as useful as my
+kitchen-stove."
+
+"It would be pretty hard to find anything useful for the bric-a-brac to
+do though," suggested Mollie, who loved pretty things whether they had
+any other use or not.
+
+"It all depends on your bric-a-brac," said the Unwiseman. "I can find
+plenty of useful things for mine to do. There's my coal scuttle for
+instance--it works all the time."
+
+"Coal-scuttles ain't bric-a-brac," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"My coal scuttle is," said the Unwiseman. "It's got a picture of a daisy
+painted on one side of it, and I gilded the handle myself. Then there's
+my watering pot. That's just as bric-a-bracky as any Chinese china pot
+that ever lived, but it's useful. I use it to water the flowers in
+summer, and to sift my lump sugar through in winter. Every pound of lump
+sugar you buy has some fine sugar with it and if you shake the lump
+sugar up in a watering pot and let the fine sugar sift through the
+nozzle you get two kinds of sugar for the price of one. So it goes all
+through my house from my piano to my old beaver hat--every bit of my
+bric-a-brac is useful."
+
+"Wattonearth do-you-do with a-nold beevor-at?" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I use it as a post-office box to mail cross letters in," said the
+Unwiseman gravely. "It's saved me lots of trouble."
+
+"Cross letters?" asked Mollie. "You never write cross letters to anybody
+do you?"
+
+"I'm doing it all the time," said the Unwiseman. "Whenever anything
+happens that I don't like I sit down and write a terrible letter to the
+people that do it. That eases off my feelings, and then I mail the
+letters in the hat."
+
+"And does the Post-man come and get them?" asked Mollie.
+
+"No indeed," said the Unwiseman. "That's where the beauty of the scheme
+comes in. If I mailed 'em in the post-office box on the lamp-post, the
+post-man would take 'em and deliver them to the man they're addressed to
+and I'd be in all sorts of trouble. But when I mail them in my hat
+nobody comes for them and nobody gets them, and so there's no trouble
+for anybody anywhere."
+
+"But what becomes of them?" asked Mollie.
+
+"I empty the hat on the first Tuesday after the first Monday of every
+month and use them for kindling in my kitchen-stove," said the
+Unwiseman. "It's a fine scheme. I keep out of trouble, don't have to buy
+so much kindling wood, and save postage."
+
+"That sounds like a pretty good idea," said Mollie.
+
+"It's a first class idea," returned Mr. Me, "and I'm proud of it. It's
+all my own and if I had time I'd patent it. Why I was invited to a party
+once by a small boy who'd thrown a snow-ball at my house and wet one of
+the shingles up where I keep my leak, and I was so angry that I sat down
+and wrote back that I regretted very much to be delighted to say that
+I'd never go to a party at his house if it was the only party in the
+world besides the Republican; that I didn't like him, and thought his
+mother's new spring bonnet was most unbecoming and that I'd heard his
+father had been mentioned for Alderman in our town and all sorts of
+disgraceful things like that. I mailed this right in my hat and used it
+to boil an egg with a month later, while if I'd mailed it in the
+post-office box that boy'd have got it and I couldn't have gone to his
+party at all."
+
+"Oh--you went, did you?" laughed Mollie.
+
+"I did and I had a fine time, six eclairs, three plates of ice cream, a
+pound of chicken salad, and a pocketful of nuts and raisins," said the
+Unwiseman. "He turned out to be a very nice boy, and his mother's spring
+bonnet wasn't hers at all but another lady's altogether, and his father
+had not even been mentioned for Water Commissioner. You see, my dear,
+what a lot of trouble mailing that letter in the old beaver hat saved
+me, not to mention what I earned in the way of food by going to the
+party which I couldn't have done had it been mailed in the regular way."
+
+Here the old gentleman began to yodel happily, and to tell passersby in
+song that he was a "Gay Swiss Laddy with a carpet-bag, That never knew
+fear of the Alpine crag, For his eye was bright and his conscience
+clear, As he leapt his way through the atmosphere, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
+Trala-lolly-O."
+
+"I do-see-how-yood-make-that-shammy-useful," said Whistlebinkie. "Except
+to try your poems on and I don't b'lieve he's a good judge o' potery."
+
+"He's a splendid judge of queer noises," said the Unwiseman, severely.
+"He knew enough to jump a mile whenever you squeaked."
+
+"Watt-else-coodie-doo?" asked Whistlebinkie through his hat. "You
+haven't any silver to keep polished and there aren't enough queer noises
+about your place to keep him busy."
+
+"What else coodie-do?" retorted the Unwiseman, giving an imitation of
+Whistlebinkie that set both Mollie and the rubber doll to giggling. "Why
+he could polish up the handle of my big front door for one thing. He
+could lie down on his back and wiggle around the floor and make it shine
+like a lookin' glass for another. He could rub up against my kitchen
+stove and keep it bright and shining for a third--that's some of the
+things he couldie-doo, but I wouldn't confine him to work around my
+house. I'd lead him around among the neighbors and hire him out for
+fifty cents a day for general shammy-skin house-work. I dare say
+Mollie's mother would be glad to have a real live shammy around that she
+could rub her tea-kettles and coffee pots on when it comes to cleaning
+the silver."
+
+"They can buy all the shammys they need at the grocer's," said
+Whistlebinkie scornfully.
+
+"Dead ones," said the Unwiseman, "but nary a live shammy have you seen
+at the grocer's or the butcher's or the milliner's or the piano-tuner's.
+That's where Wigglethorpe----"
+
+"Wigglethorpe?" cried Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Yes Wigglethorpe," repeated the Unwiseman. "That's what I have decided
+to call my shammy when I get him because he will wiggle."
+
+"He don't thorpe, does he?" laughed Whistlebinkie.
+
+"He thorpes just as much as you bink," retorted the Unwiseman. "But as I
+was saying, Wigglethorpe, being alive, will be better than any ten dead
+ones because he won't wear out, maids won't leave him around on the
+parlor floor, and just because he wiggles, the silver and the hardwood
+floors and front door handles will be polished up in half the time it
+takes to do it with a dead one. At fifty cents a day I could earn three
+dollars a week on Wigglethorpe----"
+
+"Which would be all profit if you fed him on potery," said Whistlebinkie
+with a grin.
+
+"And if I imported a hundred of them after I found that Wigglethorpe was
+successful," the Unwiseman continued, very wisely ignoring
+Whistlebinkie's sarcasm, "that would be--hum--ha----"
+
+"Three hundred dollars a week," prompted Mollie.
+
+"Exactly," said the Unwiseman, "which in a year would amount
+to--ahem--three times three hundred and sixty-five is nine, twice nine
+is----"
+
+"It comes to $15,600 a year," said Mollie.
+
+"Right to a penny," said the Unwiseman. "I was figuring it out by the
+day. Fifteen thousand six hundred dollars a year is a big sum of money
+and reckoned in eclairs at fifty eclairs for a dollar is--er--is--well
+you couldn't eat 'em if you tried, there'd be so many."
+
+"Seven hundred and eighty thousand eclairs," said Mollie.
+
+"That's what I said," said the Unwiseman. "You just couldn't eat 'em,
+but you could sell 'em, so really you'd have two businesses right away,
+shammys and eclaires."
+
+"Mitey-big-biziness," hissed Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman, "I think I'll suggest it to my burgular when
+I get home. It seems to me to be more honorable then burguling and it's
+just possible that after a summer spent in the uplifting company of my
+kitchen stove and having got used to the pleasant conversation of my
+leak, and seen how peaceful it is to just spend your days exercising a
+sweet gentle umbrella like mine, he'll want to reform and go into
+something else that he can do in the day-time."
+
+By this time the little party had reached the hotel, and Mollie's father
+was delighted to hear of the Unwiseman's proposition. It was an entirely
+new idea, he said, although he was doubtful if it was a good business
+for a burgular.
+
+"People might not be willing to trust him with their silver," he said.
+
+"Very well then," said the Unwiseman. "Let him begin on front door knobs
+and parlor floors. He's not likely to run away with those."
+
+The next day the travellers left Switzerland and when I next caught
+sight of them they had arrived at Venice.
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+VENICE
+
+
+It was late at night when Mollie and her friends arrived at Venice and
+the Unwiseman, sleeping peacefully as he was in the cavernous depths of
+his carpet-bag, did not get his first glimpse of the lovely city of the
+waters until he waked up the next morning. Unfortunately--or possibly it
+was a fortunate circumstance--the old gentleman had heard of Venice only
+in a very vague way before, and had no more idea of its peculiarities
+than he had of those of Waycross Junction, Georgia, or any other place
+he had never seen. Consequently his first sight of Venice filled him
+with a tremendous deal of excitement. Emerging from his carpet-bag in
+the cloak-room of the hotel he walked out upon the front steps of the
+building which descended into the Grand Canal, the broad waterway that
+runs its serpentine length through this historic city of the Adriatic.
+
+"'Gee Whittaker!'" he cried, as the great avenue of water met his gaze.
+"There's been a flood! Hi there--inside--the water main has busted, and
+the whole town's afloat. Wake up everybody and save yourselves!"
+
+He turned and rushed madly up the hotel stairs to the floor upon which
+his friends' rooms were located, calling lustily all the way:
+
+"Get up everybody--the reservoy's busted; the dam's loose. To the boats!
+Mollie--Whistlebinkie--Mister and Mrs. Mollie--get up or you'll be
+washed away--the whole place is flooded. You haven't a minute to spare."
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie, opening her door as she
+recognized the Unwiseman's voice out in the hallway. "What are you
+scaring everybody to death for?"
+
+"Get out your life preservers--quick before it is too late," gasped the
+Unwiseman. "There's a tidal wave galloping up and down the street, and
+we'll be drowned. To the roof! All hands to starboard and man the
+boats."
+
+"What _are_ you talking about?" said Mollie.
+
+"Look out your front window if you don't believe me," panted the
+Unwiseman. "The whole place is chuck full of water--couldn't bail it out
+in a week----"
+
+"Oh," laughed Mollie, as she realized what it was that had so excited
+her friend. "Is that all?"
+
+"All!" ejaculated the Unwiseman, his eyebrows lifting higher with
+astonishment. "Isn't it enough? What do you want, the whole Atlantic
+Ocean sitting on your front stoop?"
+
+"Why--" began Mollie, "this is Venice----"
+
+"Looks like Watertown," interrupted the Unwiseman.
+
+"Thass-swattit-izz," whistled Whistlebinkie. "Venice is a water town.
+It's built on it."
+
+"Built on it?" queried the Unwiseman looking scornfully at Whistlebinkie
+as much as to say you can't fool me quite so easily as that. "Built on
+water?" he repeated.
+
+"Exactly," said Mollie. "Didn't you know that, Mr. Me? Venice is built
+right out on the sea."
+
+"Well of all queer things!" ejaculated the Unwiseman, so surprised that
+he plumped down on the floor and sat there gazing wonderingly up at
+Mollie. "A whole city built on the sea! What's the matter, wasn't there
+land enough?"
+
+"Oh yes, I guess there was plenty of land," said Mollie, "but maybe
+somebody else owned it. Anyhow the Venetians came out here where there
+were a lot of little islands to begin with and drove piles into the
+water and built their city on them."
+
+"Well that beats me," said the Unwiseman, shaking his head in
+bewilderment. "I've heard of fellows building up big copperations on
+water, but never a city. How do they keep the water out of their
+cellars?"
+
+"They don't," said Mollie.
+
+"Maybe they build their cellars on the roof," suggested Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well," said the Unwiseman, rising from the floor and walking to the
+front window and gazing out at the Grand Canal, "I hope this hotel is
+anchored good and fast. I don't mind going to sea on a big boat that's
+built for it, but I draw the line at sailin' all around creation in a
+hotel."
+
+The droll little old gentleman poised himself on one toe and stretched
+out his arms. "There don't seem to be much motion, does there," he
+remarked.
+
+"There isn't any at all," said Mollie. "It's perfectly still."
+
+"I guess it's because it's a clam day," observed the Unwiseman uneasily.
+"I hope it'll stay clam while we're here. I'd hate to be caught out in
+movey weather like they had on that sassy little British Channel. This
+hotel would flop about fearfully and _I_ believe it would sink if
+somebody carelessly left a window open, to say nothing of its falling
+over backward and letting the water in the back door."
+
+"Papa says it's perfectly safe," said Mollie. "The place has been here
+more'n a thousand years and it hasn't sunk yet."
+
+"All right," said the Unwiseman. "If your father says that I'm satisfied
+because he most generally knows what he's talking about, but all the
+same I think we should ought to have brought a couple o' row boats and a
+lot of life preservers along. I don't believe in taking any chances.
+What do the cab-horses do here, swim?"
+
+"No," said Mollie. "There aren't any horses in Venice. They have
+gondolas."
+
+"Gondolas?" repeated the Unwiseman. "What are gondolas, trained ducks?
+Don't think much o' ducks as a substitute for horses."
+
+"Perfly-bsoyd!" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I should think they'd drive whales," said the Unwiseman, "or porpoises.
+By Jiminy, that would be fun, wouldn't it? Let's see if we can't hire a
+four whale coach, Mollie, and go driving about the city, or better yet,
+if they've got them well broken, get a school of porpoises. We might put
+on our bathing suits and go horseback riding on 'em. I don't take much
+to the trained duck idea, ducks are so flighty and if they shied at
+anything they might go flying up in the air and dump us backwards out of
+our cab into the water."
+
+"We're going to take a gondola ride this morning," said Mollie. "Just
+you wait and see, Mr. Me."
+
+[Illustration: THEY ALL BOARDED A GONDOLA]
+
+So the Unwiseman waited and an hour later he and Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie boarded a gondola in charge of a very handsome and smiling
+gondolier who said his name was Giuseppe Zocco.
+
+"Soako is a good name for a cab-driver in this town," said the
+Unwiseman, after he had inspected the gondola and ascertained that it
+was seaworthy. "I guess I'll talk to him."
+
+"You-do-know-Eye-talian," laughed Whistlebinkie.
+
+"It's one of the languages I _do_ know," returned the Unwiseman. "I buy
+all my bananas and my peanuts from an Eye-talian at home and for two or
+three years I have been able to talk to him very easily."
+
+He turned to the gondolier.
+
+"Gooda da morn, Soako," he observed very politely. "You havea da
+prett-da-boat."
+
+"Si, Signor," returned the smiling gondolier, who was not wholly
+unfamiliar with English.
+
+"See what?" asked the Unwiseman puzzled, but looking about carefully to
+see what there was to be seen.
+
+"He says we're at sea," laughed Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Oh--well--that's it, eh?" said the Unwiseman. "I thought he only spoke
+Eye-talian." And then he addressed the gondolier again. "Da weather's
+mighta da fine, huh? Not a da rain or da heava da wind, eh? Hopa da babe
+is vera da well da morn."
+
+"Si, Signor," said Giuseppe.
+
+"Da Venn greata da place. Too mucha da watt for me. Lika da dry land
+moocha da bett, Giuseppe. Ever sella da banann?" continued the
+Unwiseman.
+
+"Non, Signor," replied Giuseppe. "No sella da banann."
+
+"Bully da bizz," said the Unwiseman. "Maka da munn hand over da fist.
+You grinda da org?"
+
+"Huh?" grinned Giuseppe.
+
+"He doesn't understand," said Mollie giggling.
+
+"I asked him if he ever ground a hand-organ," said the Unwiseman.
+"Perfectly simple question. I aska da questch, Giuseppe, if you ever
+grinda da org. You know what I mean. Da musica-box, wid da monk for
+climba da house for catcha da nick."
+
+"What's 'catcha da nick'?" whispered Whistlebinkie.
+
+"To catch the nickels, stoopid," said the Unwiseman; "don't interrupt.
+No hava da monk, Giuseppe?" he asked.
+
+"Non, Signor," said the gondolier. "No hava da monk."
+
+"Too bad," observed the Unwiseman. "Hand-org not moocha da good without
+da monk. Da monk maka da laugh and catcha da mun by da cupful. If you
+ever come to America, Giuseppe, no forgetta da monk with a redda da
+cap."
+
+With which admonition the Unwiseman turned his attention to other
+things.
+
+"Is that really Eye-talian?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Of course it is," said the Unwiseman. "It's the easiest language in the
+world to pick up and only requires a little practice to make you speak
+it as if it were your own tongue. I was never conscious that I was
+learning it in my morning talks with old Gorgorini, the banana man at
+home. This would be a great place for automobiles, wouldn't it, Mollie?"
+he laughed in conclusion.
+
+"I don't guesso," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+The gondolier now guided the graceful craft to a flight of marble steps
+up which Mollie and her friends mounted to the Piazza San Marco.
+
+"This is great," said the Unwiseman as he gazed about him and took in
+its splendors. "It's a wonder to me that they don't have a lot of places
+like this on the way over from New York to Liverpool. Crossing the ocean
+would be some fun if you could step off every hour or two and stretch
+your legs on something solid, and buy a few tons of tumblers, and feed
+pigeons. Fact is I think that's the best cure in the world for
+sea-sickness. If you could run up to a little piazza like this three
+times a day where there's a nice restaurant waiting for you and no
+motion to spoil your appetite I wouldn't mind being a sailor for the
+rest of my life."
+
+The travellers passed through the glorious church of San Marco,
+inspected the Doge's Palace and then returned to the gondola, upon which
+they sailed back to their hotel.
+
+"Moocha da thanks, Giuseppe," said the Unwiseman, as he alighted.
+"Here's a Yankee da quart for you. Save it up and when you come to
+America as all the Eye-talians seem to be doing these days, it will help
+start you in business."
+
+And handing the gondolier a quarter the Unwiseman disappeared into the
+hotel. The next day he entered Mollie's room and asked permission to sit
+out on her balcony.
+
+"I think I'll try a little fishing this afternoon," he said. "It isn't a
+bad idea having a hotel right on the water front this way after all. You
+can sit out on your balcony and drop your line out into the water and
+just haul them in by the dozen."
+
+But alas for the old gentleman's expectations, he caught never a fish.
+Whether it was the fault of the bait or not I don't know, but the only
+things he succeeded in catching were an old barrel-hoop that went
+floating along the canal from the Fruit Market up the way, and, sad to
+relate, the straw hat of an American artist on his way home in his
+gondola from a day's painting out near the Lido. The latter incident
+caused a great deal of trouble and it took all the persuasion that
+Mollie's father was capable of to keep the artist from having the
+Unwiseman arrested. It seems that the artist was very much put out
+anyhow because, mix his colors as he would, he could not get that
+peculiarly beautiful blue of the Venetian skies, and the lovely
+iridescent hues of the Venetian air were too delicate for such a brush
+as his, and to have his straw hat unceremoniously snatched off his head
+by an old gentleman two flights up with an ordinary fish hook baited
+with macaroni in addition to his other troubles was too much for his
+temper, not a good one at best.
+
+"I am perfectly willing to say that I am sorry," protested the
+Unwiseman when he was hauled before the angry artist. "I naturally would
+be sorry. When a man goes fishing for shad and lands nothing but a last
+year's straw hat, why wouldn't he be sorry?"
+
+"That's a mighty poor apology!" retorted the artist, putting the straw
+hat on his head.
+
+"Well I'm a poor man," said the Unwiseman. "My expenses have been very
+heavy of late. What with buying an air-gun to shoot Alps with, and
+giving a quarter to the Ganderman to help him buy a monkey, I'm reduced
+from nine-fifty to a trifle under seven dollars."
+
+"You had no business fishing from that balcony!" said the artist
+angrily.
+
+"I haven't any business anywhere, I've retired," said the Unwiseman.
+"And I can tell you one thing certain," he added, "if I was going back
+into business I wouldn't take up fishing for straw hats and barrel-hoops
+in Venice. There's nothing but to trouble in it."
+
+"I shall lodge a complaint against you in the Lion's Mouth," said the
+artist, with a slight twinkle in his eye, his good humor returning in
+the presence of the Unwiseman.
+
+"And I shall fall back on my rights as an American citizen to fish
+whenever I please from my own balcony with my own bait without
+interruption from foreign straw hats," said the Unwiseman with dignity.
+
+"What?" cried the artist. "You an American?"
+
+"Certainly," said the Unwiseman. "You didn't take me for an Eye-talian,
+did you?"
+
+"So am I," returned the artist holding out his hand. "If you'd only told
+me that in the beginning I never should have complained."
+
+"Don't mention it," said the Unwiseman graciously. "I was afraid you
+were an Englishman, and then there'd been a war sure, because I'll never
+give in to an Englishman. If your hat is seriously damaged I'll give you
+my tarpaulin, seeing that you are an American like myself."
+
+"Not at all," said the artist. "The hat isn't hurt at all and I'm very
+glad to have met you. If your hook had only caught my eye on my way up
+the canal I should have turned aside so as not to interfere."
+
+"Well I'm mighty glad it didn't catch your eye," said the Unwiseman. "I
+could afford to buy you a new straw hat, but I'm afraid a new eye would
+have busted me."
+
+And there the trouble ended. The artist and the Unwiseman shook hands
+and parted friends.
+
+"What was that he said about the Lion's Mouth?" asked the Unwiseman
+after the artist had gone.
+
+"He said he'd lodge a complaint there," said Mollie. "That's the way
+they used to do here. Those big statues of lions out in front of the
+Doggies' Palace with their mouths wide open are big boxes where people
+can mail their complaints to the Government."
+
+"Oh, I see," said the Unwiseman. "And when the Doggies get the
+complaints they attend to 'em, eh?"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie.
+
+"And who are the Doggies?" asked the Unwiseman. "They don't have dogs
+instead of pleece over here, do they? I get so mixed up with these
+Johns, and Bobbies, and Doggies I hardly know where I'm at."
+
+"I don't exactly understand why," said Mollie, "but the people in Venice
+are ruled by Doggies."
+
+"They're a queer lot from Buckingham Palace, London, down to this old
+tow-path," said the Unwiseman, "and if I ever get home alive there's no
+more abroad for your Uncle Me."
+
+On the following day, Mollie's parents having seen all of Venice that
+their limited time permitted, prepared to start for Genoa, whence the
+steamer back to New York was to sail. Everything was ready, but the
+Unwiseman was nowhere to be found. The hotel was searched from top to
+bottom and not a sign of him. Giuseppe Zocco denied all knowledge of
+him, and the carpet-bag gave no evidence that he had been in it the
+night before as was his custom. Train-time was approaching and Mollie
+was distracted. Even Whistlebinkie whistled under his breath for fear
+that something had happened to the old gentleman.
+
+"I hope he hasn't fallen overboard!" moaned Mollie, gazing anxiously
+into the watery depths of the canal.
+
+"Here he comes!" cried Whistlebinkie, jubilantly, and sure enough down
+the canal seated on a small raft and paddling his way cautiously along
+with his hands came the Unwiseman, singing the popular Italian ballad
+"Margherita" at the top of his lungs.
+
+"Gander ahoy!" he cried, as he neared the hotel steps. "Sheer off there,
+Captain, and let me into Port."
+
+The gondolier made room for him and the Unwiseman alighted.
+
+"Where _have_ you been?" asked Mollie, throwing her arms about his neck.
+
+"Up the canal a little way," he answered unconcernedly. "I wanted to
+mail a letter to the Doggie in the Lion's Mouth."
+
+"What about?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Watertown, otherwise Venice," said the Unwiseman. "I had some
+suggestions for its improvement and I didn't want to go way without
+making them. There's a copy of my letter if you want to see it," he
+added, handing Mollie a piece of paper upon which he had written as
+follows:
+
+  29 Grand Canal St., Venice, It.
+
+      ANCIENT & HONORABLE BOW-WOWS:
+
+      I have enjoyed my visit to your beautiful but wet old town very
+      much and would respectfully advise you that there are several
+      things you can do to keep it unspiled. These are as follows to wit
+      viz:
+
+      I. Bale it out once in a while and see that the barrel hoops in
+      your Grand Canal are sifted out of it. They're a mighty poor
+      stubstishoot for shad.
+
+      II. Get a few trained whales in commission so that when a feller
+      wants to go driving he won't have to go paddling.
+
+      III. Stock your streets with trout, or flounders, or perch or even
+      sardines in order that us Americans who feel like fishing won't
+      have to be satisfied with a poor quality of straw hat.
+
+      IV. During the fishing season compel artists returning from their
+      work to wear beaver hats or something else that a fish-hook baited
+      with macaroni won't catch into thus making a lot of trouble.
+
+      V. Get together on your language. I speak the very best variety of
+      banana-stand Italian and twenty-three out of twenty-four people to
+      which I have made remarks in it have not been able to grasp my
+      meaning.
+
+      VI. Pigeons are very nice to have but they grow monotonous. Would
+      suggest a half dozen first class American hens as an ornament to
+      your piazza.
+
+      VII. Stop calling yourself Doggies. It makes people laugh.
+
+      With kind regards to the various Mrs. Ds, believe me to be with
+      mucho da respecto,
+
+  Yoursa da trool,
+  Da Unadawisamann.
+
+      P.S. If you ever go sailing abroad in your old town point her
+      nose towards my country. We'll all be glad to see you over there
+      and can supply you with all the water you need.
+
+  Y da T,
+  MISTER ME.
+
+It was with these recommendations to the Doges that the Unwiseman left
+Venice. Whether they were ever received or not I have never heard, but
+if they were I am quite sure they made the "Doggies" yelp with delight.
+
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+GENOA, GIBRALTAR, AND COLUMBUS
+
+
+"Whatta da namea dissa cit?" asked the Unwiseman in his best Italian as
+the party arrived at Genoa, whence they were to set sail for home the
+next day.
+
+"This is Genoa," said Mollie.
+
+"What's it good for?" demanded the old gentleman, gazing around him in a
+highly critical fashion.
+
+"It's where Christopher Columbus was born," said Mollie. "Didn't you
+know that?"
+
+"You don't mean the gentleman who discovered the United States, do you?"
+asked the Unwiseman, his face brightening with interest.
+
+"The very same," said Mollie. "He was born right here in this town."
+
+"Humph!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "Queer place for a fellow like that
+to be born in. You'd think a man who was going to discover America would
+have been born a little nearer the United States than this. Up in
+Canada for instance, or down around Cuba, so's he wouldn't have so far
+to travel."
+
+"Canada and Cuba weren't discovered either at that time," explained
+Mollie, smiling broadly at the Unwiseman's ignorance.
+
+"Really?" said the Unwiseman. "Well that accounts for it. I always
+wondered why the United States wasn't discovered by somebody nearer
+home, like a Canadian or a Cuban, or some fellow down around where the
+Panama hats come from, but of course if there wasn't any Canadians or
+Cubans or Panama hatters around to do it, it's as clear as pie." The old
+gentleman paused a moment, and then he went on: "So this is the place
+that would have been our native land if Columbus hadn't gone to sea, is
+it? I think I'll take home a bottle of it to keep on the mantel-piece
+alongside of my bottle of United States and label 'em' My Native Land,
+Before and After.'"
+
+"That's a very good idea," said Mollie. "Then you'll have a complete
+set."
+
+"I wonder," said the Unwiseman, rubbing his forehead reflectively, "I
+wonder if he's alive yet."
+
+"What, Christopher Columbus?" laughed Mollie.
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "I haven't seen much in the papers about him
+lately, but that don't prove he's dead."
+
+"Why he discovered America in 1492," said Mollie.
+
+"Well--let's see--how long ago was that? More'n forty years, wasn't it?"
+said the Unwiseman.
+
+"I guess it was more than forty years ago," giggled Mollie.
+
+"Well--say fifty then," said the Unwiseman. "I'm pretty nearly that old
+myself. I was born in 1839, or 1843, or some such year, and as I
+remember it we'd been discovered then--but that wouldn't make him so
+awfully old you know. A man can be eighty and still live. Look at old
+Methoosalum--he was nine hundred."
+
+"Oh well," said Mollie, "there isn't any use of talking about it.
+Columbus has been dead a long time----"
+
+"All I can say is that I'm very sorry," interrupted the Unwiseman, with
+a sad little shake of his head. "I should very much like to have gone
+over and called on him just to thank him for dishcovering the United
+States. Just think, Mollie, of what would have happened if he hadn't!
+You and I and old Fizzledinkie here would have had to be Eye-talians, or
+Switzers, and live over here all the time if it hadn't been for him, and
+our own beautiful native land would have been left way across the sea
+all alone by itself and we'd never have known anything about it."
+
+"We certainly ought to be very much obliged to Mr. Columbus for all he
+did for us," said Mollie.
+
+"I-guess-somebuddyelse-wudda-donit," whistled Whistlebinkie. "They
+cuddn'-ta-helptit-with-all-these-socean steamers-going-over-there
+every-day."
+
+"That's true enough," said the Unwiseman, "but we ought to be thankful
+to Columbus just the same. Other people _might_ have done it, but the
+fact remains that he _did_ do it, so I'm much obliged to him. I'd sort
+of like to do something to show my gratitude."
+
+"Better write to his family," grinned Whistlebinkie.
+
+"For a rubber doll with a squeak instead of brain in his head that's a
+first rate idea, Fizzledinkie," said the old gentleman. "I'll do it."
+
+And so he did. The evening mail from the Unwiseman's hotel carried with
+it a souvenir postal card addressed to Christopher Columbus, Jr., upon
+which the sender had written as follows:
+
+  GENOA, Aug. 23, 19--.
+
+      DEAR CHRISTOPHER:
+
+      As an American citizen I want to thank you for your Papa's very
+      great kindness in dishcovering the United States. When I think
+      that if he hadn't I might have been born a Switzer or a French
+      John Darm it gives me a chill. I would have called on you to say
+      this in person if I'd had time, but we are going to sail tomorrow
+      for home and we're pretty busy packing up our carpet-bags and
+      eating our last meals on shore. If you ever feel like dishcovering
+      us on your own account and cross over the briny deep yourself,
+      don't fail to call on me at my home where I have a fine kitching
+      stove and an umbrella which will always be at your disposal.
+
+  Yours trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN, U. S. A.
+
+Later in the evening to the same address was despatched another postal
+reading:
+
+      P.S. If you happen to have an extra photograph of your Papa lying
+      around the house that you don't want with his ortygraph on it I
+      shall be glad to have you send it to me. I will have it framed
+      and hung up in the parlor alongside of General Washington and
+      President Roosevelt who have also been fathers of their country
+      from time to time.
+
+  Yours trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN, U. S. A.
+
+"I'm glad I did that," said the Unwiseman when he told Mollie of his two
+messages to Christopher, Jr. "I don't think people as a rule are careful
+enough these days to show their thanks to other people who do things for
+them. It don't do any harm to be polite in matters of that kind and some
+time it may do a lot of good. Good manners ain't never out of place
+anywhere anyhow."
+
+In which praiseworthy sentiment I am happy to say both Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie agreed.
+
+The following day the travellers embarked on the steamer bound for New
+York. This time, weary of his experience as a stowaway on the trip over,
+the Unwiseman contented himself with travelling in his carpet-bag and
+not until after the ship had passed along the Mediterranean and out
+through the straits of Gibraltar, did he appear before his companions.
+His first appearance upon deck was just as the coast of Africa was
+fading away upon the horizon. He peered at this long and earnestly
+through a small blue bottle he held in his hand, and then when the last
+vestige of the scene sank slowly behind the horizon line into the sea,
+he corked the bottle up tightly, put it into his pocket and turned to
+Mollie and Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well," he said, "that's done--and I'm glad of it. I've enjoyed this
+trip very much, but after all I'm glad I'm going home. Be it ever so
+bumble there's no place like home, as the Bee said, and I'll be glad to
+be back again where I can sleep comfortably on my kitchen-stove, with my
+beloved umbrella standing guard alongside of me, and my trusty leak
+looking down upon me from the ceiling while I rest."
+
+"You missed a wonderful sight," said Mollie. "That Rock of Gibraltar was
+perfectly magnificent."
+
+"I didn't miss it," said the Unwiseman. "I peeked at it through the
+port-hole and I quite agree with you. It is the cutest piece of rock
+I've seen in a long time. It seemed almost as big to me as the boulder
+in my back yard must seem to an ant, but I prefer my boulder just the
+same. Gibrallyper's too big to do anything with and it spoils the view,
+whereas my boulder can be rolled around the place without any trouble
+and doesn't spoil anything. I suppose they keep it there to keep Spain
+from sliding down into the sea, so it's useful in a way, but after all
+I'm just as glad it's here instead of out on my lawn somewhere."
+
+"What have you been doing all these days?" asked Mollie.
+
+"O just keeping quiet," said the Unwiseman. "I've been reading up on
+Christopher Columbus and--er--writing a few poems about him. He was a
+wonderful man, Columbus was. He proved the earth was round when
+everybody else thought it was flat--and how do you suppose he did it?"
+
+"By sailin' around it," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"That was after he proved it," observed the Unwiseman, with the superior
+air of one who knows more than somebody else. "He proved it by making an
+egg stand up on its hind legs."
+
+"What?" cried Mollie.
+
+"I didn't know eggs had hind legs," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Ever see a chicken?" asked the Unwiseman.
+
+"Yes," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well, a chicken's only an advanced egg," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"That's true," said Mollie.
+
+"And chickens haven't got anything but hind legs, have they?" demanded
+the old gentleman.
+
+"Thass-a-fact," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"And Columbus proved it by making the egg stand up?" asked Mollie.
+
+"That's what history tells us," said the Unwiseman. "All the Harvard and
+Yale professors of the day said the earth was flat, but Columbus knew
+better, so he just took an egg and proved it. That's one of the things
+I've put in a poem. Want to hear it?"
+
+"Indeed I do," said Mollie. "It must be interesting."
+
+"It is--it's the longest poem I ever wrote," said the Unwiseman, and
+seeking out a retired nook on the steamer's deck the droll old fellow
+seated himself on a coil of rope and read the following poem to Mollie
+and Whistlebinkie.
+
+COLUMBUS AND THE EGG.
+
+  "Columbus was a gentleman
+    Who sailed the briny sea.
+  He was a bright young Genoan
+    In sunny Italy
+  Who once discovered just the plan
+    To find Amerikee."
+
+"Splendid!" cried Mollie, clapping her hands with glee.
+
+"Perfly-bully!" chortled Whistlebinkie, with a joyous squeak.
+
+"I'm glad you like it," said the Unwiseman, with a smile of pleasure.
+"But just you wait. The best part of it's to come yet."
+
+And the old gentleman resumed his poem:
+
+  "He sought the wise-men of his time,
+    And when the same were found,
+  He went and whispered to them, 'I'm
+    Convinced the Earth is round,
+  Just like an orange or a lime--
+    I'll bet you half a pound!'
+
+  "Each wise-man then just shook his head--
+    Each one within his hat.
+  'Go to, Columbus, child,' they said.
+    '_We_ know the Earth is flat.
+  Go home, my son, and go to bed
+    And don't talk stuff like that.'
+
+  "But Christopher could not be hushed
+    By fellows such as they.
+  His spirit never could be crushed
+    In such an easy way,
+  And with his heart and soul unsquushed
+    He plunged into the fray."
+
+"What's a fray?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"A fight, row, dispute, argyment," said the Unwiseman. "Don't
+interrupt. We're coming to the exciting part."
+
+And he went on:
+
+  "'I'll prove the world is round,' said he
+    'For you next Tuesday night,
+  If you will gather formally
+    And listen to the right.'
+  And all the wise-men did agree
+    Because they loved a fight.
+
+  "And so the wise-men gathered there
+    To hear Columbus talk,
+  And some were white as to the hair
+    And some could hardly walk,
+  And one looked like a Polar Bear
+    And one looked like an Auk."
+
+"How-dju-know-that?" asked Whistlebinkie. "Does the history say all
+that?"
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman. "The history doesn't say anything about their
+looks, but there's a picture of the whole party in the book, and it was
+just as I say especially the Polar Bear and the Auk. Anyhow, they were
+all there and the poem goes on to tell about it.
+
+  "Now when about the room they sat
+    Columbus he came in;
+  Took off his rubbers and his hat,
+    Likewise his tarpaulin.
+  He cleared his throat and stroked the cat
+    And thuswise did begin."
+
+"There wasn't any cat in the picture," explained the Unwiseman, "but I
+introduced him to get a rhyme for hat and sat. Sometimes you have to do
+things like that in poetry and according to the rules if you have a
+license you can do it."
+
+"Have you got a license?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Not to write poetry, but I've got a dog-license," said the Unwiseman,
+"and I guess if a man pays three dollars to keep a dog and doesn't keep
+the dog he's got a right to use the license for something else. I'll
+risk it anyhow. So just keep still and listen.
+
+  "'You see this egg?' Columbus led.
+    'Now watch me, sirs, I begs.
+  I'll make it stand upon its head
+    Or else upon its legs.'
+  And instantly 'twas as he said
+    As sure as eggs is eggs.
+
+  "For whether 'twas an Egg from school
+    Or in a circus taught,
+  Or whether it was just a cool
+    Egg of unusual sort,
+  That egg stood up just like a spool
+    According to report."
+
+"I bet he smashed in the end of it," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Maybe it was a scrambled egg, maybe he stuck a pin in an end of it.
+Maybe he didn't. Anyhow, he made it stand up," said the Unwiseman, "and
+I wish you'd stop squeakyrupting when I'm reading."
+
+"Go ahead," said Whistlebinkie meekly. "It's a perfly spulendid piece o'
+potery and I can't help showing my yadmiration for it."
+
+"Well keep your yadmiration for the yend of it," retorted the Unwiseman.
+"We'll be in New York before I get it finished at this rate."
+
+Whistlebinkie promised not to squeak again and the Unwiseman resumed.
+
+  "'O wonderful!' the wise-men cried.
+    'O marvellous,' said they.
+  And then Columbus up and tried
+    The egg the other way,
+  And still it stood up full of pride
+    Or so the histories say.
+
+  "Again the wise-men cried aloud,
+    'O wizard, marvellous!
+  Of all the scientific crowd
+    This is the man for us--
+  O Christopher we're mighty proud
+    Of you, you little cuss!'"
+
+"That wasn't very polite," began Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Now Squeaky," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"'Scuse!" gasped Whistlebinkie.
+
+And the Unwiseman went on:
+
+  "'For men who make an omlette
+    We really do not care;
+  To poach an egg already yet
+    Is easy everywhere;
+  But he who'll teach it etiquette--
+    He is a genius rare.
+
+  "'So if _you_ say the Earth is round
+    We think it must be so.
+  Your reasoning's so very sound,
+    Columbus don't you know.
+  Come wizard, take your half-a-pound
+    Before you homeward go.'"
+
+Whistlebinkie began to fidget again and his breath came in little short
+squeaks.
+
+"But I don't see," he began. "It didn't prove----"
+
+"Wait!" said the Unwiseman. "Don't you try to get in ahead of the
+finish. Here's the last verse, and it covers your ground.
+
+  "And thus it was, O children dear,
+    Who gather at my knee,
+  Columbus showed the Earth the sphere
+    It since has proved to be;
+  Though how the Egg trick made it clear,
+    I'm blest if I can see."
+
+"Well I'm glad you put that last voyse in," said Whistlebinkie, "because
+I don't see either."
+
+"Oh--I guess they thought a man who could train an egg to stand up was a
+pretty smart man," said Mollie, "and they didn't want to dispute with
+him."
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised if that was it," said the Unwiseman. "I
+noticed too in the picture that Columbus was about twice as big as any
+of the wise-men, and maybe that had something to do with it too. Anyhow,
+he was pretty smart."
+
+"Is that all you wrote?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman. "I did another little one called 'I Wonder.'
+There are a lot of things the histories don't tell you anything about,
+so I've put 'em all in a rhyme as a sort of hint to people who are going
+to write about him in the future. It goes like this:
+
+  "When Christopher Columbus came ashore,
+  The day he landed in Americor
+  I wonder what he said when first he tried
+  Down in the subway trains to take a ride?
+
+  "When Christopher Columbus went up town
+  And looked the country over, up and down,
+  I wonder what he thought when first his eye
+  Was caught by the sky-scrapers in the sky?
+
+  "When Christopher put up at his hotel
+  And first pushed in the button of his bell
+  And upward came the boy who orders takes,
+  I wonder if he ordered buckwheat cakes?
+
+  "When Christopher went down to Washington
+  To pay his call the President upon
+  I wonder if the President felt queer
+  To know that his discoverer was here?
+
+  "I wonder when his slow-poke caravels
+  Were tossed about by heavy winds and swells,
+  If he was not put out and mad to spy
+  The ocean steamers prancing swiftly by?"
+
+"I don't know about other people," said the Unwiseman, "but little
+things like that always interest me about as much as anything else, but
+there's nary a word about it in the papers, and as far as my memory is
+concerned when he first came I was too young to know much about what was
+going on. I do remember a big parade in his honor, but I think that was
+some years after the discovery."
+
+"I guess it was," said Mollie, with a laugh. "There wasn't anything but
+Indians there when he arrived."
+
+"Really? How unfortunate--how very unfortunate," said the Unwiseman. "To
+think that on the few occasions that he came here he should meet only
+Indians. Mercy! What a queer idea of the citizens of the United States
+he must have got. Really, Mollie, I don't wonder that instead of
+settling down in New York, or Boston, or Chicago, he went back home
+again to live. Nothing but Indians! Well, well, well!"
+
+And the Unwiseman wandered moodily back to his carpet-bag.
+
+"With so many nice people living in America," he sighed, "it does seem
+too bad that he should meet only Indians who, while they may be very
+good Indians indeed, are not noted for the quality of their manners."
+
+And so the little party passed over the sea, and I did not meet with
+them again until I reached the pier at New York and discovered the
+Unwiseman struggling with the Custom House Inspectors.
+
+
+
+
+XIV.
+
+AT THE CUSTOM HOUSE
+
+
+"Hi there--where are you going with that carpet-bag?" cried a gruff
+voice, as the Unwiseman scurried along the pier, eager to get back home
+as speedily as possible after the arrival of the steamer at New York.
+
+"Where do you suppose I'm going?" retorted the Unwiseman, pausing in his
+quick-step march back to the waiting arms of his kitchen-stove. "Doesn't
+look as if I was walkin' off to sea again, does it?"
+
+"Come back here with that bag," said the man of the gruff voice, a tall
+man with a shiny black moustache and a blue cap with gold trimmings on
+his head.
+
+"What, me?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"Yes, you," said the man roughly. "What business have you skipping out
+like that with a carpet-bag as big as a house under your arm?"
+
+"It's my bag--who's got a better right?" retorted the Unwiseman. "I
+bought and paid for it with my own money, so why shouldn't I walk off
+with it?"
+
+"Has it been inspected?" demanded the official.
+
+"It don't need to be--there ain't any germans in it," said the
+Unwiseman.
+
+"Germans?" laughed the official.
+
+"Yes--Mike robes--you know----" continued the Unwiseman.
+
+"O, you mean germs," said the official. "Well, I didn't say disinfected.
+I said inspected. You can't lug a bag like that in through here without
+having it examined, you know. What you got in it?"
+
+[Illustration: THE UNWISEMAN LOOKED THE OFFICIAL COLDLY IN THE EYE]
+
+The Unwiseman placed his bag on the floor of the pier and sat on it and
+looked the other coldly in the eye.
+
+"Who are you anyhow?" he asked. "What right have you to ask me such
+impident questions as, What have I got in this bag?"
+
+"Well in private life my name's Maginnis," said the official, "but down
+here on this dock I'm Uncle Sam, otherwise the United States of America,
+that's who."
+
+The Unwiseman threw his head back and roared with laughter.
+
+"I do not mean to be rude, my dear Mr. Maginnis," he said, "but I really
+must say Tutt, Tush, Pshaw and Pooh. I may even go so far as to say
+Pooh-pooh--which is twice as scornful as just plain pooh. _You_ Uncle
+Sam? You must think I'm as green as apples if you think I'll believe
+that."
+
+"It is true nevertheless," said the official sternly, "and unless you
+hand over that bag at once----"
+
+"Well I know better," said the Unwiseman angrily. "Uncle Sam has a red
+goatee and you've got nothing but a shiny black moustache that looks
+like a pair of comic eyebrows that have slipped and slid down over your
+nose. Uncle Sam wears a blue swallow-tail coat with brass buttons on it,
+and a pair of red and white striped trousers like a peppermint stick,
+and you've got nothin' but an old pea-jacket and blue flannel pants on,
+and as for the hat, Uncle Sam wears a yellow beaver with fur on it like
+a coon-cat, while that thing of yours looks like a last summer's
+yachtin' cap spruced up with brass. You're a very smart man, Mr.
+Maginnis, but you can't fool an old traveller like me. I've been to
+Europe, I have, and I guess I know the difference between a fire-engine
+and a clothes horse. Uncle Sam indeed!"
+
+"I must inspect the contents of that bag," said the official firmly. "If
+you resist it will be confiscated."
+
+"I don't know what confiscated means," returned the Unwiseman valiantly,
+"but any man who goes through this bag of mine goes through me first.
+I'm sittin' on the lock, Mr. Maginnis, and I don't intend to move--no,
+not if you try to blast me away. A man's carpet-bag is his castle and
+don't you forget it."
+
+"What's the matter here?" demanded a policeman, who had overheard the
+last part of this little quarrel.
+
+"Nothing much," said the Unwiseman. "This gentleman here in the
+messenger boy's clothes says he's the President o' the United States,
+Congress, the Supreme Court, and the Army and Navy, all rolled into one,
+thinking that by so doing he can get hold of my carpet-bag. That's all.
+Anybody can see by lookin' at him that he ain't even the Department of
+Agriculture. The United States Government! Really it makes me laugh."
+
+Here the Unwiseman grinned broadly, and the Policeman and the official
+joined in.
+
+"He's a new kind of a smuggler, officer," said Mr. Maginnis, "or at
+least he acts like one. I caught him trotting off with that bag under
+his arm, and he refuses to let me inspect it."
+
+"I ain't a smuggler!" retorted the Unwiseman indignantly.
+
+"You'll have to let him look through the bag, Mister," said the
+Policeman. "He's a Custom House Inspector and nobody's allowed to take
+in baggage of any sort that hasn't been inspected."
+
+"Is that the law?" asked the Unwiseman.
+
+"Yep," said the Policeman.
+
+"What's the idea of it?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"Well the United States Government makes people pay a tax on things that
+are made on the other side," explained the Inspector. "That's the way
+they make the money to pay the President's salary and the other running
+expenses of the Government."
+
+"Oh--that's it, eh?" said the Unwiseman. "Well you'd ought to have told
+me that in the beginning. I didn't know the Government needed money to
+pay the President. I thought all it had to do was to print all it
+needed. Of course if the President's got to go without his money unless
+I help pay, I'll be only too glad to do all I can to make up the amount
+you're short. He earns every penny of it, and it isn't fair to make him
+wait for it. About how much do you need to even it up? I've only got
+four dollars left and I'm afraid I'll have to use a little of it myself,
+but what's left over you're welcome to, only I'd like the President to
+know I chipped in. How much does he get anyhow?"
+
+"Seventy-five thousand dollars," said the Inspector.
+
+"And there are 80,000,000 people in the country, ain't there?" asked the
+Unwiseman.
+
+"About that?" said the Inspector.
+
+"So that really my share comes to--say four and a quarter thousandths of
+a cent--that it?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"Something like that," laughed the Inspector.
+
+"Well then," said the Unwiseman, taking a copper coin from his pocket,
+"here's a cent. Can you change it?"
+
+"We don't do business that way," said the Inspector impatiently. "We
+examine your baggage and tax that--that's all. If you refuse to let us,
+we confiscate the bag, and fine you anywhere from $100 to $5000. Now
+what are you going to do?"
+
+"What he says is true," said the Policeman, "and I'd advise you to save
+trouble by opening up the bag."
+
+"O well of course if _you_ say so I'll do it, but I think it's mighty
+funny just the same," said the Unwiseman, rising from the carpet-bag and
+handing it over to the Inspector. "In the first place it's not polite
+for an entire stranger to go snooping through a gentleman's carpet-bag.
+In the second place if the Secretary of the Treasury hasn't got enough
+money on hand when pay-day comes around he ought to state the fact in
+the newspapers so we citizens can hustle around and raise it for him
+instead of being held up for it like a highwayman, and in the third
+place it's very extravagant to employ a man like Mr. Maginnis here for
+three dollars a week or whatever he gets, just to collect four and a
+quarter thousandths of a cent. I don't wonder there ain't any money in
+the treasury if that's the way the Government does business."
+
+So the inspection of the Unwiseman's carpet bag began. The first thing
+the Inspector found upon opening that wonderful receptacle was "French
+in Five Lessons."
+
+"What's that?" he asked.
+
+"That's a book," replied the Unwiseman. "It teaches you how to talk
+French in five easy lessons."
+
+"What did you pay for it?" asked the Inspector.
+
+"I didn't pay anything for it," said the Unwiseman. "I found it."
+
+"What do you think it's worth?" queried the Inspector.
+
+"Nothing," said the Unwiseman. "That is, all the French I got out of it
+came to about that. It may have been first class looking French, but
+when I came to use it on French people they didn't seem to recognize it,
+and it had a habit of fading away and getting lost altogether, so as far
+as I'm concerned it ain't worth paying duty on. If you're going to tax
+me for that you can confisticate it and throw it at the first cat you
+want to scare off your back-yard fence."
+
+"What's this?" asked the Inspector, taking a small tin box out of the
+bag.
+
+"Ginger-snaps, two bananas and an eclair," said the Unwiseman. "I shan't
+pay any duty on them because I took 'em away with me when I left home."
+
+"I don't know whether I can let them in duty-free or not," said the
+Inspector, with a wink at the Policeman.
+
+"Well I'll settle that in a minute," said the Unwiseman, and reaching
+out for the tin-box in less than two minutes he had eaten its contents.
+"You can't tax what ain't, can you?" he asked.
+
+"Of course not," said the Inspector.
+
+"Well then those ginger-snaps ain't, and the bananas ain't and the
+eclair ain't, so there you are," said the Unwiseman triumphantly. "Go on
+with your search, Uncle Sammy. You haven't got much towards the
+President's salary yet, have you!"
+
+The Inspector scorned to reply, and after rummaging about in the bag
+for a few moments, he produced a small box of macaroni.
+
+"I guess we'll tax you on this," he said. "What is it?"
+
+"Bait," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"I call it macaroni," said the Inspector.
+
+"You can call it what you please," said the Unwiseman. "I call it
+bait--and it's no good. I can dig better bait than all the macaroni in
+the world in my back yard. I fish for fish and not for Eye-talians, so I
+don't need that kind. If I can't keep it without paying taxes for it,
+confisticate it and eat it yourself. I only brought it home as a
+souvenir of Genoa anyhow."
+
+"I don't want it," said the Inspector.
+
+"Then give it to the policeman," said the Unwiseman. "I tell you right
+now I wouldn't pay five cents to keep a piece of macaroni nine miles
+long. Be careful the way you handle that sailor suit of mine. I had it
+pressed in London and I want to keep the creases in the trousers just
+right the way the King wears his."
+
+"Where did you buy them?" asked the Inspector, holding the duck trousers
+up in the air.
+
+"Right here in this town before I stole on board the _Digestic_," said
+the Unwiseman.
+
+"American made, are they?" asked the Inspector.
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "You can tell that by lookin' at 'em. They're
+regular canvas-back ducks with the maker's name stamped on the buttons."
+
+Closer inspection of the garment proved the truth of the Unwiseman's
+assertion and the Inspector proceeded.
+
+"Didn't you make any purchases abroad?" he asked. "Clothes or jewels or
+something?"
+
+"I didn't buy any clothes at all," said the Unwiseman. "I did ask the
+price of a Duke's suit and a Knight gown, but I didn't buy either of
+them. You don't have to pay duty on a request for information, do you?"
+
+"You are sure you didn't buy any?" repeated the Inspector.
+
+"Quite sure," said the Unwiseman. "A slight misunderstanding with the
+King combined with a difference of opinion with his tailor made it
+unnecessary for me to lay in a stock of royal raiment. And the same
+thing prevented my buying any jewels. If I'd decided to go into the
+Duke business I probably should have bought a few diamond rings and a
+half a dozen tararas to wear when I took breakfast with the roil family,
+but I gave that all up when I made up my mind to remain a farmer.
+Tararas and diamond rings kind of get in your way when you're pulling
+weeds and planting beets, so why should I buy them?"
+
+"How about other things?" asked the Inspector. "You say you've been
+abroad all summer and haven't bought anything?"
+
+"I didn't say anything of the sort," said the Unwiseman. "I bought a lot
+of things. In London I bought a ride in a hansom cab, in Paris I bought
+a ride in a one horse fakir, and in Venice I bought a ride in a
+Gandyola. I bought a large number of tarts and plates of ice cream in
+various places. I bought a couple of souvenir postal cards to send to
+Columbus's little boy. In Switzerland I didn't buy anything because the
+things I wanted weren't for sale such as pet shammys and Alps and
+Glaziers and things like that. There's only two things that I can
+remember that maybe ought to be taxed. One of 'em's an air gun to shoot
+alps with and the others a big alpen-stock engraved with a red hot iron
+showing what mountains I didn't climb. The Alpen-stock I used as a fish
+pole in Venice and lost it because my hook got stuck in an artist's
+straw hat, but the air gun I brought home with me. You can tax it if you
+want to, but I warn you if you do I'll give it to you and then you'll
+have to pay the tax yourself."
+
+Having delivered himself of this long harangue, the Unwiseman, quite out
+of breath, sat down on Mollie's trunk and waited for new developments.
+The Inspector apparently did not hear him, or if he did paid no
+attention. The chances are that the Unwiseman's words never reached his
+ears, for to tell the truth his head was hidden way down deep in the
+carpet-bag. It was all of three minutes before he spoke, and then with
+his face all red with the work he drew his head from the bag and,
+gasping for air observed, wonderingly:
+
+"I can't find anything else but a lot of old bottles in there. What
+business are you in anyhow?" he asked. "Bottles and rags?"
+
+"I am a collector," said the Unwiseman, with a great deal of dignity.
+
+"Well--after all I guess we'll have to let you in free," said the
+Inspector, closing the bag with a snap and scribbling a little mark on
+it with a piece of chalk to show that it had been examined. "The
+Government hasn't put any tax on old bottles and junk generally so
+you're all right. If all importers were like you the United States would
+have to go out of business."
+
+"Junk indeed!" cried the Unwiseman, jumping up wrathfully. "If you call
+my bottles junk I'd like to know what you'd say to the British Museum.
+That's a scrap heap, alongside of this collection of mine, and I don't
+want you to forget it!"
+
+And gathering his belongings together the Unwiseman in high dudgeon
+walked off the pier while the Inspector and the Policeman watched him go
+with smiles on their faces so broad that if they'd been half an inch
+broader they would have met behind their necks and cut their heads off.
+
+"I never was so insulted in my life," said the Unwiseman, as he told
+Mollie about it in the carriage going up to the train that was to take
+them back home. "He called that magnificent collection of mine junk."
+
+"What was there in it?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Wait until we get home and I'll show you," said the Unwiseman. "It's
+the finest collection of--well just wait and see. I'm going to start a
+Museum up in my house that will make that British Museum look like
+cinder in a giant's eye. How did you get through the Custom House?"
+
+"Very nicely," said Mollie. "The man wanted me to pay duty on
+Whistlebinkie at first, because he thought he was made in Germany, but
+when he heard him squeak he let him in free."
+
+"I should think so," said the Unwiseman. "There's no German in his
+squeak. He couldn't get a medium sized German word through his hat. If
+he could I think he'd drive me crazy. Just open the window will you
+while I send this wireless message to the President."
+
+"To the President?" cried Mollie.
+
+"Yes--I want him to know I'm home in the first place, and in the second
+place I want to tell him that the next time he wants to collect his
+salary from me, I'll take it as a personal favor if he'll come himself
+and not send Uncle Sam Maginnis after it. I can stand a good deal for my
+country's sake but when a Custom House inspector prys into my private
+affairs and then calls them junk just because the President needs a four
+and a quarter thousandth of a cent, it makes me very, very angry. It's
+been as much as I could do to keep from saying 'Thunder' ever since I
+landed, and that ain't the way an American citizen ought to feel when he
+comes back to his own beautiful land again after three months' absence.
+It's like celebrating a wanderer's return by hitting him in the face
+with a boot-jack, and I don't like it."
+
+The window was opened and with much deliberation the Unwiseman
+despatched his message to the President, announcing his return and
+protesting against the tyrannous behavior of Mr. Maginnis, the Custom
+House Inspector, after which the little party continued on their way
+until they reached their native town. Here they separated, Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie going to their home and the Unwiseman to the queer little
+house that he had left in charge of the burglar at the beginning of the
+summer.
+
+"If I ever go abroad again," said the Unwiseman at parting, "which I
+never ain't going to do, I'll bring a big Bengal tiger back in my bag
+that ain't been fed for seven weeks, and then we'll have some fun when
+Maginnis opens the bag!"
+
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+HOME, SWEET HOME
+
+
+"Hurry up and finish your breakfast, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie the
+next morning after their return from abroad. "I want to run around to
+the Unwiseman's House and see if everything is all right. I'm just crazy
+to know how the burglar left the house."
+
+"I-mall-ready," whistled Whistlebinkie. "I-yain't-very-ungry."
+
+"Lost your appetite?" asked Mollie eyeing him anxiously, for she was a
+motherly little girl and took excellent care of all her playthings.
+
+"Yep," said Whistlebinkie. "I always do lose my appetite after eating
+three plates of oat-meal, four chops, five rolls, six buckwheat cakes
+and a couple of bananas."
+
+"Mercy! How do you hold it all, Whistlebinkie?" said Mollie.
+
+"Oh--I'm made o'rubber and my stummick is very 'lastic," explained
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+So hand in hand the little couple made off down the road to the
+pleasant spot where the Unwiseman's house stood, and there in the front
+yard was the old gentleman himself talking to his beloved boulder, and
+patting it gently as he did so.
+
+[Illustration: "I'M NEVER GOING TO LEAVE YOU AGAIN, BOLDY," HE WAS
+SAYING]
+
+"I'm never going to leave you again, Boldy," he was saying to the rock
+as Mollie and Whistlebinkie came up. "It is true that the Rock of
+Gibraltar is bigger and broader and more terrible to look at than you
+are but when it comes right down to business it isn't any harder or to
+my eyes any prettier. You are still my favorite rock, Boldy dear, so you
+needn't be jealous." And the old gentleman bent over and kissed the
+boulder softly.
+
+"Good morning," said Mollie, leaning over the fence. "Whistlebinkie and
+I have come down to see if everything is all right. I hope the
+kitchen-stove is well?"
+
+"Well the house is here, and all the bric-a-brac, and the leak has grown
+a bit upon the ceiling, and the kitchen-stove is all right thank you,
+but I'm afraid that old burgular has run off with my umbrella," said the
+Unwiseman. "I can't find a trace of it anywhere."
+
+"You don't really think he has stolen it do you?" asked Mollie.
+
+"I don't know what to think," said the Unwiseman, shaking his head
+gravely. "He had first class references, that burgular had, and claimed
+to have done all the burguling for the very nicest people in the country
+for the last two years, but these are the facts. He's gone and the
+umbrella's gone too. I suppose in the burgular's trade like in
+everything else you some times run across one who isn't as honest as he
+ought to be. Occasionally you'll find a burgular who'll take things that
+don't belong to him and it may be that this fellow that took my house
+was one of that kind--but you never can tell. It isn't fair to judge a
+man by disappearances, and it is just possible that the umbrella got
+away from him in a heavy storm. It was a skittish sort of a creature
+anyhow and sometimes I've had all I could do in windy weather to keep it
+from running away myself. What do you think of my sign?"
+
+"I don't see any sign," said Mollie, looking all around in search of the
+object. "Where is it?"
+
+"O I forgot," laughed the old gentleman gaily. "It's around on the other
+side of the house--come on around and see it."
+
+The callers walked quickly around to the rear of the Unwiseman's house,
+and there, hanging over the kitchen door, was a long piece of board upon
+which the Unwiseman had painted in very crooked black letters the
+following words:
+
+  THE BRITISH MUSEUM JUNIOR
+  Admishun ten cents.     Exit fifteen cents.
+  Burgulars one umbrella.
+  THE FINEST COLECTION OF ALPS AND SOFORTHS ON EARTH.
+  CHILDREN AND RUBER DOLLS FREE ON SATIDYS.
+
+"Dear me--how interesting," said Mollie, as she read this remarkable
+legend, "but--what does it mean?"
+
+"It means that I've started a British Museum over here," said the
+Unwiseman, "only mine is going to be useful, instead of merely
+ornamental like that one over in London. For twenty-five cents a man can
+get a whole European trip in my Museum without getting on board of a
+steamer. I only charge ten cents to come in so as to get people to
+come, and I charge fifteen cents to get out so as to make 'em stay until
+they have seen all there is to be seen. People get awfully tired
+travelling abroad, I find, and if you make it too easy for them to run
+back home they'll go without finishing their trip. I charge burgulars
+one umbrella to get in so that if my burgular comes back he'll have to
+make good my loss, or stay out."
+
+"Why do you let children and rubber dolls in free?" asked Mollie,
+reading the sign over a second time.
+
+"I wrote that rule to cover you and old Squizzledinkie here," said the
+old gentleman, with a kindly smile at his little guests. "Although it
+really wasn't necessary because I don't charge any admission to people
+who come in the front door and you could always come in that way. That's
+the entrance to my home. The back-door I charge for because it's the
+entrance to my museum, don't you see?"
+
+"Clear as a blue china alley," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Come in and see the exhibit," said the Unwiseman proudly.
+
+And then as Mollie and Whistlebinkie entered the house their eyes fell
+upon what was indeed the most marvellous collection of interesting
+objects they had ever seen. All about the parlor were ranged row upon
+row of bottles, large and small, each bearing a label describing its
+contents, with here and there mysterious boxes, and broken tumblers and
+all sorts of other odd things that the Unwiseman had brought home in his
+carpet-bag.
+
+"Bottle number one," said he, pointing to the object with a cane, "is
+filled with Atlantic Ocean--real genuine briny deep--bottled it myself
+and so I know there's nothing bogus about it. Number two which looks
+empty, but really ain't, is full of air from the coast of Ireland,
+caught three miles out from Queenstown by yours trooly, Mr. Me. Number
+three, full of dust and small pebbles, is genuine British soil gathered
+in London the day they put me out of the Museum. 'Tain't much to look
+at, is it?" he added.
+
+"Nothin' extra," said Whistlebinkie, inspecting it with a critical air
+after the manner of one who was an expert in soils.
+
+"Not compared to American soil anyhow," said the Unwiseman. "This hard
+cake in the tin box is a 'Muffin by Special Appointment to the King,'"
+he went on with a broad grin. "I went in and bought one after we had our
+rumpus in the bake-shop, just for the purpose of bringing it over here
+and showing the American people how vain and empty roilty has become. It
+is not a noble looking object to my eyes."
+
+"Mine neither," whistled Whistlebinkie. "It looks rather stale."
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "And that's the only roil thing about it.
+Passing along rapidly we come soon to a bottleful of the British
+Channel," he resumed. "In order to get the full effect of that very
+conceited body of water you want to shake it violently. That gives you
+some idea of how the water works. It's tame enough now that I've got it
+bottled but in its native lair it is fierce. You will see the
+instructions on the bottle."
+
+Sure enough the bottle was labeled as the Unwiseman said with full
+instructions as to how it must be used.
+
+"Shake for fifteen minutes until it is all roiled up and swells around
+inside the bottle like a tidal wave," the instructions read. "You will
+then get a small idea of how this disagreeable body of water behaves
+itself in the presence of trusting strangers."
+
+"Here is my bottle of French soil," said the Unwiseman, passing on to
+the next object. "It doesn't look very different from English soil but
+it's French all right, as you would see for yourself if it tried to
+talk. I scooped it up myself in Paris. There's the book--French in Five
+Lessons--too. That I call 'The French Language,' which shows people who
+visit this museum what a funny tongue it is. That pill box full of sand
+is a part of the Swiss frontier and the small piece of gravel next to it
+is a piece of an Alp chipped off Mount Blanc by myself, so that I know
+it is genuine. It will give the man who has never visited
+Swaz--well--that country, a small idea of what an Alp looks like and
+will correct the notion in some people's minds that an Alp is a wild
+animal with a long hairy tail and the manners of a lion. The next two
+bottles contain all that is left of a snow-ball I gathered in at
+Chamouny, and a chip of the Mer de Glace glazier. They've both melted
+since I bottled them, but I'll have them frozen up again all right when
+winter comes, so there's no harm done."
+
+"What's this piece of broken china on the table?" asked Mollie.
+
+"That is a fragment of a Parisian butter saucer," said the Unwiseman.
+"One of the waiters fell down stairs with somebody's breakfast at our
+hotel in Paris one morning while we were there," he explained, "and I
+rescued that from the debris. It is a perfect specimen of a broken
+French butter dish."
+
+"I don't think it's very interesting," said Mollie.
+
+"Well to tell you the truth, I don't either, but you've got to remember,
+my dear, that this is a British Museum and the one over in London is
+chuck full of broken china, old butter plates and coffee cups from all
+over everywhere, and I don't want people who care for that sort of thing
+to be disappointed with my museum when they come here. Take that plaster
+statue of Cupid that I bought in Venice--I only got that to please
+people who care for statuary."
+
+"Where is it?" asked Mollie, searching the room with her eye for the
+Cupid.
+
+"I've spread it out through the Museum so as to make it look more like a
+collection," said the Unwiseman. "I got a tack-hammer as soon as I got
+home last night and fixed it up. There's an arm over on the
+mantel-piece. His chest and left leg are there on top of the piano,
+while his other arm with his left ear and right leg are in the kitchen.
+I haven't found places for his stummick and what's left of his head yet,
+but I will before the crowd begins to arrive."
+
+"Why Mr. Me!" protested Mollie, as she gazed mournfully upon the scraps
+of the broken Cupid. "You didn't really smash up that pretty little
+statue?"
+
+"I'm afraid I did, Mollie," said the Unwiseman sadly. "I hated to do it,
+but this is a Museum my dear, and when you go into the museum business
+you've to do it according to the rules. One of the rules seems to be 'No
+admission to Unbusted Statuary,' and I've acted accordingly. I don't
+want to deceive anybody and if I gave even to my kitchen-stove the idea
+that these first class museums over in Europe have anything but
+fractures in them----"
+
+"Fragments, isn't it?" suggested Mollie.
+
+"It's all the same," said the Unwiseman, "Fractures or fragments, there
+isn't a complete statue anywhere in any museum that I ever saw, and in
+educating my kitchen-stove in Art I'm going to follow the lead of the
+experts."
+
+"Well I don't see the use of it," sighed Mollie, for she had admired the
+pretty little plaster Cupid very much indeed.
+
+"No more do I, Mollie dear," said the Unwiseman, "but rules are rules
+and we've got to obey them. This is the Grand Canal at Venice," he added
+holding up a bottle full of dark green water in order to change the
+subject. "And here is what I call a Hoople-fish from the Adriatic."
+
+"What on earth is a Hoople-fish?" cried Mollie with a roar of laughter
+as she gazed upon the object to which the Unwiseman referred, an old
+water soaked strip of shingley wood.
+
+"It is the barrel hoop I caught that day I went fishing from the hotel
+balcony," explained the Unwiseman. "I wish I'd kept the artist's straw
+hat I landed at the same time for a Hat-fish to complete my collection
+of Strange Shad From Venice, but of course that was impossible. The
+artist seemed to want it himself and as he had first claim to it I
+didn't press the matter. The barrel-hoop will serve however to warn
+Americans who want to go salmon fishing on the Grand Canal just what
+kind of queer things they'll catch if they have any luck at all."
+
+"What's this?" asked Whistlebinkie, peering into a little tin pepper pot
+that appeared to contain nothing but sand.
+
+"You must handle that very carefully," said the Unwiseman, taking it in
+one hand, and shaking some of the sand out of it into the palm of the
+other. "That is the birth-place of Christopher Columbus, otherwise the
+soil of Genoa. I brought home about a pail-ful of it, and I'm going to
+have it put up in forty-seven little bottles to send around to people
+that would appreciate having it. One of 'em is to go to the President to
+be kept on the White House mantel-piece in memory of Columbus, and the
+rest of them I shall distribute to the biggest Museums in each one of
+the United States. I don't think any State in the Union should be
+without a bottle of Columbus birth-place, in view of all that he did for
+this country by discovering it. There wouldn't have been any States at
+all of it hadn't been for him, and it strikes me that is a very simple
+and touching way of showing our gratitude."
+
+"Perfectly fine!" cried Mollie enthusiastically. "I don't believe
+there's another collection like this anywhere in all the world, do you?"
+she added, sweeping the room with an eye full of wondering admiration
+for the genius that had gathered all these marvellous things together.
+
+"No--I really don't," said the Unwiseman. "And just think what a fine
+thing it will be for people who can't afford to travel," he went on.
+"For twenty-five cents they can come here and see everything we
+saw--except a few bogus kings and things like that that ain't really
+worth seeing--from the French language down to the Venetian Hoople-fish,
+from an Alp and a Glazier to a Specially Appointed Muffin to the King
+and Columbus's birth-place. I really think I shall have to advertise it
+in the newspapers. A Trip Abroad Without Leaving Home, All for a
+Quarter, at the Unwiseman's Museum. Alps a Specialty."
+
+"Here's a couple of empty bottles," said Whistlebinkie, who had been
+snooping curiously about the room.
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "I've more than that. I'm sorry to say that
+some of my exhibits have faded away. The first one was filled with
+London fog, and as you remember I lost that when the cork flew out the
+day they dejected me from the British Museum. That other bottle when I
+put the cork in it contained a view of Gibraltar and the African Coast
+through the port-hole of the steamer, but it's all faded out, just as
+the bird's-eye view of the horizon out in the middle of the ocean that I
+had in a little pill bottle did. There are certain things you can't keep
+even in bottles--but I shall show the Gibraltar bottle just the same. A
+bottle of that size that once contained that big piece of rock and the
+African Coast to boot, is a wonderful thing in itself."
+
+In which belief Mollie and Whistlebinkie unanimously agreed.
+
+"Was the kitchen-stove glad to see you back?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well--it didn't say very much," said the Unwiseman, with an
+affectionate glance out into the kitchen, "but when I filled it up with
+coal, and started the fire going, it was more than cordial. Indeed
+before the evening was over it got so very warm that I had to open the
+parlor windows to cool it off."
+
+"It's pretty nice to be home again, isn't it," said Mollie.
+
+"Nice?" echoed the old gentleman. "I can just tell you, Miss Mollie
+Whistlebinkie, that the finest thing I've seen since I left home, finer
+than all the oceans in the world, more beautiful than all the Englands
+in creation, sweeter than all the Frances on the map, lovelier than any
+Alp that ever poked its nose against the sky, dearer than all the
+Venices afloat--the greatest, most welcome sight that ever greeted my
+eyes was my own brass front door knob holding itself out there in the
+twilight of yesterday to welcome me home and twinkling in the fading
+light of day like a house afire as if to show it was glad to see me
+back. That's why the minute I came into the yard I took off my hat and
+knelt down before that old brass knob and kissed it."
+
+The old man's voice shook just a little as he spoke, and a small
+teardrop gathered and glistened in a corner of his eye--but it was a
+tear of joy and content, not of sorrow.
+
+"And then when I turned the knob and opened the door," he went on,
+"well--talk about your Palaces with all their magnificent shiny floors
+and gorgeous gold framed mirrors and hall-bedrooms as big as the Madison
+Square Garden--they couldn't compare to this old parlor of mine with the
+piano over on one side of the room, the refrigerator in the other, the
+leak beaming down from the ceiling, and my kitchen-stove peeking in
+through the door and sort of keeping an eye on things generally. And not
+a picture in all that 9643 miles of paint at the Loover can hold a
+candle to my beloved old Washington Crossing the Delaware over my
+mantel-piece, with the British bombarding him with snow-balls and the
+river filled to the brim with ice-bergs--no sirree! And best of all,
+nobody around to leave their aitches all over the place for somebody
+else to pick up, or any French language to take a pretty little bird and
+turn it into a wazzoh, or to turn a good honest hard boiled egg into an
+oof, but everybody from Me myself down to the kitchen-stove using the
+good old American language whenever we have something to say and holding
+our tongues in the same when we haven't."
+
+"Hooray for us!" cried Whistlebinkie, dancing with glee.
+
+"That's what I say," said the Unwiseman. "America's good enough for me
+and I'm glad I'm back."
+
+"Well I feel the same way," said Mollie. "I liked Europe very much
+indeed but somehow or other I like America best."
+
+"And for a very good reason," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"What?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Because it's Home," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"I guess-thassit," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well don't guess again, Fizzledinkie," said the Unwiseman, "because
+that's the answer, and if you guessed again you might get it wrong."
+
+And so it was that Mollie and the Unwiseman and Whistlebinkie finished
+their trip abroad, and returned better pleased with Home than they had
+ever been before, which indeed is one of the greatest benefits any of us
+get out of a trip to Europe, for after all that fine old poet was right
+when he said:
+
+  "East or West
+  Home is best."
+
+In closing I think I ought to say that the Unwiseman's umbrella turned
+up in good order the next morning, and where do you suppose?
+
+Why up on the roof where the kind-hearted burglar had placed it to
+protect the Unwiseman's leak from the rain!
+
+So he seems to have been a pretty honest old burglar after all.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mollie and the Unwiseman Abroad, by 
+John Kendrick Bangs
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Mollie and the Unwiseman Abroad, by John Kendrick Bangs
+
+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/license
+
+
+Title: Mollie and the Unwiseman Abroad
+
+Author: John Kendrick Bangs
+
+Illustrator: Grace G. Weiderseim
+
+Release Date: May 23, 2012 [EBook #39778]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOLLIE AND THE UNWISEMAN ABROAD ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from
+scanned images of public domain material from the Internet
+Archive.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 403px;">
+<img src="images/ill_001.jpg" width="403" height="600" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>MOLLIE AND</h2>
+
+<h2>THE UNWISEMAN ABROAD</h2>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2><i>HOLIDAY EDITIONS</i></h2>
+
+<h2><i>of</i></h2>
+
+<h2><i>JUVENILE CLASSICS</i></h2>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<h3>THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN</h3>
+
+<h4>By George Macdonald</h4>
+
+<blockquote><p><i>Twelve full-page illustrations in color, and the original wood
+engravings. Decorated chapter-headings and lining-papers.
+Ornamental cloth, $1.50.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<h3>THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE</h3>
+
+<h4>By George Macdonald</h4>
+
+<blockquote><p><i>Twelve full page illustrations in color, and decorated
+chapter-headings and lining-papers. Ornamental cloth, $1.50.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<h3>AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND</h3>
+
+<h4>By George Macdonald</h4>
+
+<blockquote><p><i>Twelve full-page illustrations in color. Decorated
+chapter-headings and lining-papers. Cloth, ornamental, $1.50.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<h3>A DOG OF FLANDERS</h3>
+
+<h4>By "Ouida"</h4>
+
+<blockquote><p><i>Illustrated with full-page color plates, and decorated
+chapter-headings and lining-papers. Cloth, ornamental, $1.50.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<h4>J.&nbsp;B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</h4>
+
+<h4>Publishers Philadelphia</h4>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 358px;"><a name="ILL_002" id="ILL_002"></a>
+<img src="images/ill_002.jpg" width="358" height="500" alt="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;I&#39;VE BEEN TRYING TO FIND OUT HOW TO TIE A SINKER TO THIS SOUP&quot;<br /><i>Page 47</i></span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>MOLLIE AND THE</h2>
+
+<h2>UNWISEMAN</h2>
+
+<h2>ABROAD</h2>
+
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h3>JOHN KENDRICK BANGS</h3>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<h4><i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY</i></h4>
+
+<h3>GRACE G. WIEDERSEIM</h3>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 243px;">
+<img src="images/ill_003.jpg" width="243" height="250" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<h4>PHILADELPHIA &amp; LONDON</h4>
+
+<h4>J.&nbsp;B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</h4>
+
+<h4>1910</h4>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span> 1910</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By J.&nbsp;B. Lippincott Company</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h4>TO</h4>
+
+<h4>MY FRIENDS THE CHILDREN</h4>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="right"></td><td align="left"><a href="#FOREWORD"><span class="smcap">Foreword</span>&mdash;Introducing Two Heroes and a Heroine.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td align="left"><a href="#I"><span class="smcap">Mollie, Whistlebinkie, and the Unwiseman</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td align="left"><a href="#II"><span class="smcap">The Start</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td align="left"><a href="#III"><span class="smcap">At Sea</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#IV"><span class="smcap">England</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">V.</td><td align="left"><a href="#V"><span class="smcap">A Call on the King</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VI"><span class="smcap">They Get Some Fog and Go Shopping</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VII"><span class="smcap">The Unwiseman Visits the British Museum</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VIII"><span class="smcap">The Unwiseman's French</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">IX.</td><td align="left"><a href="#IX"><span class="smcap">In Paris</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">X.</td><td align="left"><a href="#X"><span class="smcap">The Alps at Last</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XI"><span class="smcap">The Unwiseman Plans a Chamois Company</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XII"><span class="smcap">Venice</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XIII"><span class="smcap">Genoa, Gibraltar, and Columbus</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XIV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XIV"><span class="smcap">At the Custom House</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">XV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XV"><span class="smcap">Home, Sweet Home</span></a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_002">"I've Been Trying to Find Out How to Tie a Sinker to this Soup"</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_004">"Take Care of Yourself, Fizzledinkie, and don't Blow too much through the Top of Your Hat"</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_005">Molly Makes Her Courtesy to Mr. King</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_006">"These are the Kind His Majesty Prefers," said the girl</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_007">"Have You Seen the Ormolu Clock of Your Sister's Music Teacher?"</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_008">"Out the Way There!" cried the Unwiseman</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_009">The Chamois Evidently Liked this Verse for its Eyes Twinkled</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_010">They all Boarded a Gondola</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_011">The Unwiseman Looked the Official Coldly in the Eye</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_012">"I'm Never Going to Leave You Again, Boldy," he was saying</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2><a name="FOREWORD" id="FOREWORD">FOREWORD</a></h2>
+
+<h3>INTRODUCING TWO HEROES AND A HEROINE</h3>
+
+<h4>I.</h4>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">There were three little folks, and one was fair&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Oh a rare little maid was she.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Her eyes were as soft as the summer air,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And blue as the summer sea.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Her locks held the glint of the golden sun;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And her smile shed the sweets of May;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Her cheek was of cream and roses spun,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And dimpled the livelong day.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<h4>II.</h4>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The second, well he was a rubber-doll,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Who talked through a whistling hat.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">His speech ran over with folderol,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">But his jokes they were never flat.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">He squeaked and creaked with his heart care-free</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Such things as this tale will tell,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">But whether asleep or at work was he</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">The little maid loved him well.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<h4>III.</h4>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The third was a man&mdash;O a very queer man!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">But a funny old chap was he.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">From back in the time when the world began</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">His like you never did see.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The things he'd "know," they were seldom so,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">His views they were odd and strange,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And his heart was filled with the genial glow</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Of love for his kitchen range.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<h4>IV.</h4>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Now the three set forth on a wondrous trip</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">To visit the lands afar;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And what befel on the shore, and ship,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">As she sailed across the bar,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">These tales will make as plain as the day</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">To those who will go with me</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And follow along in the prank and play</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Of these, my travellers three.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<h2><a name="I" id="I">I.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>MOLLIE, WHISTLEBINKIE, AND THE UNWISEMAN</h3>
+
+<p>Mollie was very much excited, and for an excellent reason. Her Papa had
+at last decided that it was about time that she and her Rubber-Doll,
+Whistlebinkie, saw something of this great big beautiful world, and had
+announced that in a few weeks they would all pack their trunks and set
+sail for Europe. Mollie had always wanted to see Europe, where she had
+been told Kings and Queens still wore lovely golden crowns instead of
+hats, like the fairies in her story-book, and the people spoke all sorts
+of funny languages, like French, and Spanish, and real live Greek. As
+for Whistlebinkie, he did not care much where he went as long as he was
+with Mollie, of whom like the rest of the family he was very fond.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But," said he, when he was told of the coming voyage, "how about Mr.
+Me?"</p>
+
+<p>Now Mr. Me was a funny old gentleman who lived in a little red house not
+far away from Mollie's home in the country. He claimed that his last
+name was Me, but Mollie had always called him the Unwiseman because
+there was so much he did not know, and so little that he was willing to
+learn. The little girl loved him none the less for he was a very good
+natured old fellow, and had for a long time been a play-mate of the two
+inseparable companions, Mollie and Whistlebinkie. The latter by the way
+was called Whistlebinkie because whenever he became excited he blew his
+words through the small whistle in the top of his hat, instead of
+speaking them gently with his mouth, as you and I would do.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, we'll have to invite him to go along, too, if he can afford it,"
+said Mollie. "Perhaps we'd better run down to his house now, and tell
+him all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Guess-sweed-better," Whistlebinkie agreed through the top of his
+beaver, as usual.</p>
+
+<p>And so the little couple set off down the hill,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> and were fortunate
+enough to find the old gentleman at home.</p>
+
+<p>"Break it to him gently," whispered Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I will," answered Mollie, under her breath, and then entering the
+Unwiseman's house she greeted him cheerily. "Good Morning, Mr. Me," she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it?" asked the old gentleman, looking up from his newspaper which he
+was reading upside-down. "I haven't tasted it yet. I never judge a day
+till it's been cooked."</p>
+
+<p>"Tasted it?" laughed Mollie. "Can't you tell whether a morning is good
+or not without tasting it?"</p>
+
+<p>"O I suppose you can if you want to," replied the Unwiseman. "If you
+make up your mind to believe everything you see, why you can believe a
+morning's good just by looking at it, but I prefer to taste mine before
+I commit myself as to whether they are good or bad."</p>
+
+<p>"Perfly-'bsoyd!" chortled Whistlebinkie through the top of his hat.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" cried Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Still talks through his hat, doesn't he," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> the Unwiseman. "Must
+think it's one of these follytones."</p>
+
+<p>"Never-erd-o-sutcha-thing!" whistled Whistlebinkie. "What's a
+follytone?"</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>are</i> a niggeramus," jeered the Unwiseman. "Ho! Never heard of a
+follytone. Ain't he silly, Mollie?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I ever heard of one either, Mr. Unwiseman," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well-well-well," ejaculated the Unwiseman in great surprise. "Why a
+follytone is one of those little boxes you have in the house with a
+number like 7-2-3-J-Hokoben that you talk business into to some feller
+off in Chicago or up in Boston. You just pour your words into the box
+and they fall across a wire and go scooting along like lightning to this
+person you're talkin' to."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," laughed Mollie. "You mean a telephone."</p>
+
+<p>"I call 'em follytones," said the Unwiseman coolly. "Your voice sounds
+so foolish over 'em. I never tried 'em but once"&mdash;here the old man began
+to chuckle. "Somebody told me Philadelphia wanted me, and of course I
+knew right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> away they were putting up a joke on me because I ain't never
+met Philadelphia and Philadelphia ain't never met me, so I just got a
+little squirt gun and filled it up with water and squirted it into the
+box. I guess whoever was trying to make me believe he was Philadelphia
+got a good soaking that time."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess-smaybe-he-didn't," whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well he didn't get me anyhow," snapped the Unwiseman. "You don't catch
+me sending my voice to Philadelphia when the chances are I may need it
+any minute around here to frighten burgulars away with. The idea of a
+man's being so foolish as to send his voice way out to Chicago on a wire
+with nobody to look after it, stumps me. But that ain't what we were
+talking about."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mollie gravely. "We were talking about tasting days. You said
+you cooked them, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I said," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"I never knew anybody else to do it," said Mollie. "What do you do it
+for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I find raw days very uncomfortable,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> explained the Unwiseman.
+"I prefer fried-days."</p>
+
+<p>"Everyday'll be Friday by and by," carolled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"It will with me," said the old man. "I was born on a Friday, I was
+never married on a Friday, and I dyed on Friday."</p>
+
+<p>"You never died, did you?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I did," said the Unwiseman. "I used to have perfectly red
+hair and I dyed it gray so that young people like old Squeaky-hat here
+would have more respect for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Do-choo-call-me-squeekyat!" cried Whistlebinkie angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Yawpy-tile, I won't&mdash;only&mdash;&mdash;" the Unwiseman began.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor-yawpy-tile-neither," whistled Whistlebinkie, beginning to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, here!" cried the Unwiseman. "Stop your crying. Just because
+you're made of rubber and are waterproof ain't any reason for throwing
+tears on my floor. I won't have it. What do you want me to call you,
+Wheezikid?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," sobbed Whistlebinkie. "My name's&mdash;Whizzlebinkie."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Very well then," said the Unwiseman. "Let it be Fizzledinkie&mdash;&mdash;only
+you must show proper respect for my gray hairs. If you don't I'll have
+had all my trouble dyeing for nothing."</p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie was about to retort, but Mollie perceiving only trouble
+between her two little friends if they went on at this rate tried to
+change the subject by going back to the original point of discussion.
+"How do you taste a day to see if it's all right?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I stick my tongue out the window," said the Unwiseman, "and it's a good
+thing to do. I remember once down at the sea-shore a young lady asked me
+if I didn't think it was just a sweet day, and I stuck my tongue out of
+the window and it was just as salt as it could be. Tasted like a pickle.
+'No, ma'am, it ain't,' says I. 'Quite the opposite, it's quite briny,'
+says I. If I'd said it was sweet she'd have thought I was as much of a
+niggeramus as old Fizz&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you always read your newspaper upside-down?" Mollie put in hastily
+to keep the Unwiseman from again hurting Whistlebinkie's feelings.</p>
+
+<p>"Always," he replied. "I find it saves me a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> lot of money. You see the
+paper lasts a great deal longer when you read it upside-down than when
+you read it upside-up. Reading it upside-up you can go through a
+newspaper in about a week, but when you read it upside-down it lasts
+pretty nearly two months. I've been at work on that copy of the
+<i>Gazette</i> six weeks now and I've only got as far as the third column of
+the second page from the end. I don't suppose I'll reach the news on the
+first column of page one much before three weeks from next Tuesday. I
+think it's very wasteful to buy a fresh paper every day when by reading
+it upside-down backwards you can make the old one last two months."</p>
+
+<p>"Do-bleeve-youkn-reada-tall," growled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" cried the old man.</p>
+
+<p>"I-don't-be-lieve-you-can-read-at-all!" said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"O as for that," laughed the old man, "I never said I could. I don't
+take a newspaper to read anyhow. What's the use? Fill your head up with
+a lot of stuff it's a trouble to forget."</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>do</i> you take it for?" asked Mollie, amazed at this confession.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm collecting commas and Qs," said the Unwiseman. "I always was fond
+of pollywogs and pug-dogs, and the commas are the living image of
+pollywogs, and the letter Q always reminds me of a good natured pug-dog
+sitting down with his back turned toward me. I've made a tally sheet of
+this copy of the <i>Gazette</i> and so far I've found nine thousand and
+fifty-three commas, and thirty-nine pugs."</p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie forgot his wrath in an explosion of mirth at this reply.
+He fairly rolled on the floor with laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be foolish, Fizzledinkie," said the Unwiseman severely. "A good Q
+is just as good as a pug-dog. He's just as fat, has a fine curly tail
+and he doesn't bite or keep you awake nights by barking at the moon or
+make a nuisance of himself whining for chicken-bones while you are
+eating dinner; and as far as the commas are concerned they're better
+even than pollywogs, because they don't wiggle around so much or turn
+into bull-frogs and splash water all over the place."</p>
+
+<p>"There-raintenny-fleeson-cues-sneether," whistled Whistlebinkie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I didn't catch that," said the Unwiseman. "Talk through your nose just
+once and maybe I'll be able to guess what you're trying to say."</p>
+
+<p>"He says there are not any fleas on Qs," said Mollie with a reproving
+glance at Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"As to that I can't say," said the Unwiseman. "I never saw any&mdash;but
+anyhow I don't object to fleas on pug-dogs."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't?" cried Mollie. "Why they're horrid, Mr. Unwiseman. They bite
+you all up."</p>
+
+<p>"Perfly-awful," whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"You're wrong about that," said the Unwiseman. "They don't bite you at
+all while they're on the pug-dog. It's only when they get on you that
+they bite you. That's why I say I don't mind 'em on the pug-dogs. As
+long as they stay there they don't hurt me."</p>
+
+<p>Here the Unwiseman rose from his chair and walking across the room
+opened a cupboard and taking out an old clay pipe laid it on one of the
+andirons where a log was smouldering in the fire-place.</p>
+
+<p>"I always feel happier when I'm smoking my pipe," he said resuming his
+seat and smiling pleasantly at Mollie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Put it in the fire-place to warm it?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not, Stupid," replied the Unwiseman scornfully. "I put it in
+the fire-place to smoke it. That's the cheapest and healthiest way to
+smoke a pipe. I don't have to buy any tobacco to keep it filled, and as
+long as I leave it over there on the andiron I don't get any of the
+smoke up my nose or down my throat. I tried it the other way once and
+there wasn't any fun in it that I could see. The smoke got in all my
+flues and I didn't stop sneezing for a week. It was dreadful, and once
+or twice I got scared and sent for the fire-engines to put me out. I was
+so full of smoke it seemed to me I must be on fire. It wasn't so bad the
+first time because the firemen just laughed and went away, but the
+second time they came they got mad at what they called a second false
+alarm and turned the hose on me. I tell you I was very much put out when
+they did that, and since that time I've given up smoking that way. I
+never wanted to be a chimney anyhow. What's the use? If you're going to
+be anything of that sort it's a great deal better to be an oven so that
+some kind cook-lady will keep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> filling you up with hot-biscuits, and
+sponge-cake, and roast turkey."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think so," said Mollie. "That's one of the nice things about
+being a little girl&mdash;&mdash;you're not expected to smoke."</p>
+
+<p>"Well I don't know about that," said the Unwiseman. "Far as I can
+remember I never was a little girl so I don't know what was expected of
+me as such, but as far as I'm concerned I'm perfectly willing to let the
+pipe get smoked in the fire-place, and keep my mouth for expressing
+thoughts and eating bananas and eclairs with, and my throat for giving
+three cheers on the Fourth of July, and swallowing apple pie. That's
+what they were made for and hereafter that's what I'm going to use 'em
+for. Where's Miss Flaxilocks?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flaxilocks was Mollie's little friend and almost constant
+companion, the French doll with the deepest of blue eyes and the richest
+of golden hair from which she got her name.</p>
+
+<p>"She couldn't come to-day," explained Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Stoo-wexited," whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" asked the Unwiseman. "Sounds like a clogged-up
+radiator."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He means to say that she is too excited to come," said Mollie. "The
+fact is, Mr. Unwiseman, we're all going abroad&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Abroad?" demanded the Unwiseman. "Where's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hoh!" jeered Whistlebinkie. "Doesn't know where abroad is!"</p>
+
+<p>"How should I know where abroad is?" retorted the Unwiseman. "I never
+had any. What is it anyhow? A new kind of pie?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," laughed Mollie. "Abroad is Europe, and England and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And Swizz-izzer-land," put in Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Swizz-what?" cried the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Switzerland," said Mollie. "It's Switzerland, Whistlebinkie."</p>
+
+<p>"Thass-watised, Swizz-izzerland," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the good of them?" asked the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"O they're nice places to visit," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you walk there?" asked the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;of course not," said Mollie with a smile. "They're thousands of
+miles away, across the ocean."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Across the ocean?" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "Mercy! Ain't the ocean
+that wet place down around New Jersey somewhere?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mollie. "The Atlantic Ocean."</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!" said the Unwiseman. "How you going to get across? There ain't
+any bridges over it, are there?"</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor no trolleys?" demanded the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>Mollie's reply was a loud laugh, and Whistlebinkie whistled with glee.</p>
+
+<p>"Going in a balloon, I suppose," sneered the Unwiseman. "That is all of
+you but old Sizzerinktum here. I suppose he's going to try and jump
+across. Smart feller, old Sizzerinktum."</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't neither!" retorted Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't neither what&mdash;smart?" said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;ain't goin' to jump," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Good thing too," observed the Unwiseman approvingly. "If you did you'd
+bounce so high when you landed that <i>I</i> don't believe you'd ever come
+down."</p>
+
+<p>"We're going in a boat," said Mollie. "Not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> a row boat nor a sail boat,"
+she hastened to explain, "but a great big ocean steamer, large enough to
+carry over a thousand people, and fast enough to cross in six days."</p>
+
+<p>"Silly sort of business," said the Unwiseman. "What's the good of going
+to Europe and Swazzoozalum&mdash;or whatever the place is&mdash;when you haven't
+seen Albany or Troy, or New Rochelle and Yonkers, or Michigan and
+Patterson?"</p>
+
+<p>"O well," said Mollie, "Papa's tired and he's going to take a vacation
+and we're all going along to help him rest, and Flaxilocks is so excited
+about going back to Paris where she was born that I have had to keep her
+in her crib all the time to keep her from getting nervous
+procrastination."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said the Unwiseman. "But I don't see why if people are tired
+they don't stay home and go to bed. That's the way to rest. Just lie in
+bed a couple of days without moving."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mollie. "But Papa needs the salt air to brace him up."</p>
+
+<p>"What of it?" demanded the Unwiseman. "Can't you get salt air without
+going across the ocean? Seems to me if you just fill up a pillow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> with
+salt and sleep on that, the way you do on one of those pine-needle
+pillows from the Dadirondacks, you'd get all the salt air you wanted, or
+build a salt cellar under your house and run pipes from it up to your
+bedroom to carry the air through."</p>
+
+<p>"It wouldn't be the same, at all," said Mollie. "Besides we're going to
+see the Alps."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;that's different. Of course if you're going to see the Alps that's
+very different," said the Unwiseman. "I wouldn't mind seeing an Alp or
+two myself. I always was interested in animals. I've often wondered why
+they never had any Alps at the Zoo."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess they're too big to bring over," said Mollie gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe so, but even then if they catch 'em young I don't see," began the
+Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie's behavior at this point was such that Mollie, fearing a
+renewal of the usual quarrel between her friends ran hastily on to the
+object of their call and told the Unwiseman that they had come to bid
+him good-bye.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you were going with us," she said as she shook the old
+gentleman's hand.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much," he replied. "I suppose it would be nice, but I
+have too many other things to attend to and I don't see how I could
+spare the time. In the first place I've got all those commas and Qs to
+look after, and then if I went away there'd be nobody around to see that
+my pipe was smoked every day, or to finish up my newspaper. Likewise
+also too in addition the burgulars might get into my house some night
+while I was away and take the wrong things because I haven't been able
+yet to let 'em know just what I'm willing to have 'em run off with, so
+you see how badly things would get mixed if I went away."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose they would," sighed Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"There'd be nobody here to exercise my umbrella on wet days, either,"
+continued the old gentleman, "or to see that the roof leaked just right,
+or to cook my meals and eat 'em. No&mdash;I don't just see how I <i>could</i>
+manage it." And so the old gentleman bade his visitors good-bye.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 358px;"><a name="ILL_004" id="ILL_004"></a>
+<img src="images/ill_004.jpg" width="358" height="500" alt="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, FIZZLEDINKIE, AND DON&#39;T BLOW TOO MUCH THROUGH THE TOP OF YOUR HAT&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Take care of yourself, Fizzledinkie," he observed to Whistlebinkie,
+"and don't blow too much through the top of your hat. I've heard of
+boats being upset by sudden squalls, and you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> might get the whole party
+in trouble by the careless use of that hat of yours."</p>
+
+<p>Mollie and her companion with many waves of their hands back at the
+Unwiseman made off up the road homeward. The old gentleman gazed after
+them thoughtfully for awhile, and then returned to his work on his
+newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>"Queer people&mdash;some of 'em," he muttered as he cut out his ninety-ninth
+Q and noted the ten-thousand-six-hundred-and-thirty-eighth comma on his
+pollywog tally sheet. "Mighty queer. With a country of their own right
+outside their front door so big that they couldn't walk around it in
+less than forty-eight hours, they've got to go abroad just to see an old
+Alp cavorting around in Whizzizalum or whatever else that place
+Whistlebinkie was trying to talk about is named. I'd like to see an Alp
+myself, but after all as long as there's plenty of elephants and
+rhinoceroses up at the Zoo what's the good of chasing around after other
+queer looking beasts getting your feet wet on the ocean, and having your
+air served up with salt in it?"</p>
+
+<p>And as there was nobody about to enlighten the old gentleman on these
+points he went to bed that night with his question unanswered.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="II" id="II">II.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE START</h3>
+
+<p>Other good byes had been said; the huge ocean steamer had drawn out of
+her pier and, with Mollie and Whistlebinkie on board, together with
+Flaxilocks and the rest of the family, made her way down the bay,
+through the Narrows, past Sandy Hook and out to sea. The long low lying
+shores of New Jersey, with their white sands and endless lines of villas
+and summer hotels had gradually sunk below the horizon and the little
+maid was for the first time in her life out of sight of land.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it glorious!" cried Mollie, as she breathed in the crisp fresh
+air, and tasted just a tiny bit of the salt spray of the ocean on her
+lip.</p>
+
+<p>"I guesso," whistled Whistlebinkie, with a little shiver.
+"Think-ide-like-it-better-'fwe-had-alittle-land-in-sight."</p>
+
+<p>"O no, Whistlebinkie," returned Mollie, "it's a great deal safer this
+way. There are rocks near the shore but outside here the water is ever
+so deep&mdash;more'n six feet I guess. I'd be perfectly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> happy if the
+Unwiseman was only with us."</p>
+
+<p>Just then up through one of the big yawning ventilators, that look so
+like sea-serpents with their big flaming mouths stretched wide open as
+if to swallow the passengers on deck, came a cracked little voice
+singing the following song to a tune that seemed to be made up as it
+went along:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 28em;">"Yo-ho!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 28em;">Yo-ho&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">O a sailor's life for me!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">I love to nail</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The blithering gale,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">As I sail the bounding sea.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">For I'm a glorious stowaway,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">I've thrown my rake and hoe away,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">On the briny deep to go away,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Yeave-ho&mdash;Yeave-ho&mdash;Yo-hee!"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Where have I heard that voice before!" cried Mollie clutching
+Whistlebinkie by the hand so hard that he squeaked.</p>
+
+<p>"It's-sizz!" whistled Whistlebinkie excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's what?" cried Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"It's-his!" repeated Whistlebinkie more correctly.</p>
+
+<p>"Whose&mdash;the Unwiseman's?" Mollie whispered with delight.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thass-swat-I-think," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>And then the song began again drawing nearer each moment.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 28em;">"Yeave-ho,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 28em;">Yo-ho,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">O I love the life so brave.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">I love to swish</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Like the porpoise fish</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Over the foamy wave.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">So let the salt wind blow-away,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">All care and trouble throw-away,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And lead the life of a Stowaway</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Yeave-ho&mdash;Yeave-ho&mdash;Yo-hee!"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"It is he as sure as you're born, Whistlebinkie!" cried Mollie in an
+ecstacy of delight. "I wonder how he came to come."</p>
+
+<p>"I 'dno," said Whistlebinkie. "I guess he's just went and gone."</p>
+
+<p>As Whistlebinkie spoke sure enough, the Unwiseman himself clambered out
+of the ventilator and leaped lightly on the deck alongside of them still
+singing:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 28em;">"Yeave-ho,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 28em;">Yo-ho,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">I love the At-lan-tic.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The water's wet</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And you can bet</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 22em;">The motion makes me sick.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">But let the wavelets flow away</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">You cannot drive the glow away</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">From the heart of the happy Stowaway.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Yeave-ho&mdash;Yeave-ho&mdash;Yo-hee!"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Dear me, what a strange looking figure he was as he jumped down and
+greeted Mollie and Whistlebinkie! In place of his old beaver hat he wore
+a broad and shiny tarpaulin. His trousers which were of white duck
+stiffly starched were neatly creased down the sides, ironed as flat as
+they could be got, nearly two feet wide and as spick and span as a
+snow-flake. On his feet he wore a huge pair of goloshes, and thrown
+jauntily around his left shoulder and thence down over his right arm to
+his waist was what appeared to be a great round life preserver, filled
+with air, and heavy enough to support ten persons of his size.</p>
+
+<p>"Shiver my timbers if it ain't Mollie!" he roared as he caught sight of
+her. "And Whistlebinkie too&mdash;Ahoy there, Fizzledinkie. What's the good
+word?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where on earth did you come from?" asked Mollie overjoyed.</p>
+
+<p>"I weighed anchor in the home port at seven<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> bells last night; set me
+course nor-E by sou-sou-west, made for the deep channel running past the
+red, white and blue buoy on the starboard tack, reefed my galyards in
+the teeth o' the blithering gale and sneaked aboard while Captain Binks
+of the good ship <i>Nancy B.</i> was trollin' for oysters off the fishin'
+banks after windin' up the Port watch," replied the Unwiseman. "It's a
+great life, ain't it," he added gazing admiringly about him at the
+wonderful ship and then over the rail at the still more wonderful ocean.</p>
+
+<p>"But how did you come to come?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;ye see after you'd said good-bye to me the other day, I was sort
+of upset and for the first time in my life I got my newspaper right side
+up and began to read it that way," the old gentleman explained. "And I
+fell on a story of the briny deep in which a young gentleman named Billy
+The Rover Bold sailed from the Spanish main to Kennebunkport in a dory,
+capturing seventeen brigs, fourteen galleons and a pirate band on the
+way. It didn't say fourteen galleons of what, but thinkin' it might be
+soda<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> water, it made my mouth water to think of it, so I decided to rent
+my house and come along. About when do you think we'll capture any
+Brigs?"</p>
+
+<p>"You rented your house?" asked Mollie in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;to a Burgular," said the Unwiseman. "I thought that was the best
+way out of it. If the burgular has your house, thinks I, he won't break
+into it, spoiling your locks, or smashing your windows and doors. What
+he's got likewise moreover he won't steal, so the best thing to do is to
+turn everything over to him right in the beginning and so save your
+property. So I advertised. Here it is, see?" And the Unwiseman produced
+the following copy of his advertisement.</p>
+
+<h4>FOR TO BE LET</h4>
+
+<h4>ONE FIRST CLASS PREMISSES</h4>
+
+<h4>ALL MODDERN INCONVENIENCES</h4>
+
+<h4>HOT AND COAL GAS</h4>
+
+<h4>SIXTEEN MILES FROM POLICE STATION</h4>
+
+<h4>POSESSION RIGHT AWAY OFF</h4>
+
+<h4>ONLY BURGULARS NEED APPLY.</h4>
+
+<p class="center">Address, The Unwiseman, At Home.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+<p>"One of 'em called the next night and he's taken the house for six
+months," the Unwiseman went on. "He's promised to keep the house clean,
+to smoke my pipe, look after my Qs and commas, eat my meals regularly,
+and exercise the umbrella on wet days. It was a very good arrangement
+all around. He was a very nice polite burgular and as it happened had a
+lot of business he wanted to attend to right in our neighborhood. He
+said he'd keep an eye on your house too, and I told him about how to get
+in the back way where the cellar window won't lock. He promised for sure
+he'd look into it."</p>
+
+<p>"Very kind of him I'm sure," said Mollie dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd have liked him very much&mdash;nicest burgular I ever met. Had real
+taking ways," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Howd-ulike-being-outer-sighter-land?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Who, me?" asked the Unwiseman. "I wouldn't like it at all. I took
+precious good care that I shouldn't be neither."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense," said Mollie. "How can you help yourself?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"This way," said the Unwiseman with a proud smile of superiority, taking
+a bottle from his pocket. "See that?" he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mollie. "What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's land, of course," replied the Unwiseman, holding the bottle up in
+the light. "Real land off my place at home. Just before I left the house
+it occurred to me that it would be pleasant to have some along and I
+took a shovel and went out and got a bottle full of it. It makes me feel
+safer to have the land in sight all the way over and then it will keep
+me from being homesick when I'm chasing those Alps down in Swazoozalum."</p>
+
+<p>"Swizz-izzerland!" corrected Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Swit-zer-land!" said Mollie for the instruction of both. "It's not
+Swazoozalum, or Swizziz-zerland, but Switzerland."</p>
+
+<p>"O I see&mdash;rhymes with Hits-yer-land&mdash;when the Alp he hits your land,
+then you think of Switzerland&mdash;that it?" asked the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Well that's near enough," laughed Mollie. "But how does that bottle
+keep you from being homesick?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;when I begin to pine for my native<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> land, all I've got to do is to
+open the bottle and take out a spoonful of it. 'This is my own, my
+native land,' the Poet said, and when I look at this bottle so say I.
+Right out of my own yard, too," said the Unwiseman, hugging the bottle
+tightly to his breast. "It's queer isn't it how I should find out how to
+travel so comfortably without having to ask anybody."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you're a genius," suggested Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe I am," agreed the Unwiseman, "but anyhow you know I just knew
+what to do as soon as I made up my mind to come along."</p>
+
+<p>Mollie looked at him admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Take these goloshes for instance. I'm the only person on board this
+boat that's got goloshes on," continued the old gentleman, "and yet if
+the boat went down, how on earth could they keep their feet dry? It's
+all so simple. Same way with this life preserver&mdash;it's nothing but an
+old bicycle tire I found in your barn, but just think what it would mean
+to me if I should fall overboard some day."</p>
+
+<p>"Smitey-fine!" whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"It is that. All I'll have to do is to sit inside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> of it and float till
+they lower a boat after me," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you done about getting sea-sick?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;that's the thing that bothered me as much as anything," ejaculated
+the Unwiseman, "but all of a sudden it came to me like a flash. I was
+getting my fishing tackle ready for the trip and when I came to the
+sinkers, there was the idea as plain as the nose on your face. Six days
+out, says I, means thirty-seven meals."</p>
+
+<p>"Thirty-seven?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;three meals a day for six days is&mdash;," began the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Only eighteen," said Mollie, who for a child of her size was very quick
+at multiplication.</p>
+
+<p>"So it is," said the Unwiseman, his face growing very red. "So it is. I
+must have forgotten to set down five and carry three."</p>
+
+<p>"Looks that way," said Whistlebinkie, with a mirthful squeak through the
+top of his hat. "What you did was to set down three and carry seven."</p>
+
+<p>"That's it," said the Unwiseman. "Three and seven make
+thirty-seven&mdash;don't it?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Looked at sideways," said Mollie, with a chuckle.</p>
+
+<p>"I know I got it somehow," observed the Unwiseman, his smile returning.
+"So I prepared myself for thirty-seven meals. I brought a lead sinker
+along for each one of them. I'm going to tie one sinker to each meal to
+keep it down, and of course I won't be sea-sick at all. There was only
+one other way out of it that I could think of; that was to eat
+pound-cake all the time, but I was afraid maybe they wouldn't have any
+on board, so I brought the sinkers instead."</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds like a pretty good plan," said Whistlebinkie. "Where's your
+State-room?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't got one," said the Unwiseman. "I really don't need it,
+because I don't think I'll go to bed all the way across. I want to sit
+up and see the scenery. When you've only got a short time on the water
+and aren't likely to make a habit of crossing the ocean it's too bad to
+miss any of it, so I didn't take a room."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think there's much scenery to be seen on the ocean," suggested
+Mollie. "It's just plain water all the way over."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"O I don't think so," replied the Unwiseman. "I imagine from that story
+about Billy the Rover there's a lot of it. There's the Spanish main for
+instance. I want to keep a sharp look out for that and see how it
+differs from Bangor, Maine. Then once in a while you run across a
+latitude and a longitude. I've never seen either of those and I'm sort
+of interested to see what they look like. All I know about 'em is that
+one of 'em goes up and down and the other goes over and back&mdash;I don't
+exactly know how, but that's the way it is and I'm here to learn. I
+should feel very badly if we happened to pass either of 'em while I was
+asleep."</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Then somewhere out here they've got a thing they call a horrizon, or a
+horizon, or something like that," continued the Unwiseman. "I've asked
+one of the sailors to point it out to me when we come to it, and he said
+he would. Funny thing about it though&mdash;he said he'd sailed the ocean for
+forty-seven years and had never got close enough to it to touch it.
+'Must be quite a sight close to,' I said, and he said that all the
+horrizons he ever saw was from ten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> to forty miles off. There's a place
+out here too where the waves are ninety feet high; and then there's the
+Fishin' Banks&mdash;do you know I never knew banks ever went fishin', did
+you? Must be a funny sight to see a lot o' banks out fishin'. What
+State-room are you in, Mollie?"</p>
+
+<p>"We've got sixty-nine," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Sixty-nine," demanded the Unwiseman. "What's that mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why it's the number of my room," explained Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"O," said the Unwiseman scratching his head in a puzzled sort of way.
+"Then you haven't got a State-room?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mollie. "It's a State-room."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't quite see," said the Unwiseman, gazing up into the air. "If
+it's a State-room why don't they call it New Jersey, or Kansas, or
+Mitchigan, or some other State? Seems to me a State-room ought to be a
+State-room."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess maybe there's more rooms on board than there are States,"
+suggested Whistlebinkie. "There ain't more than sixty States, are there,
+Mollie?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's only forty-six," said Mollie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;then that accounts for number sixty-nine," observed the Unwiseman.
+"They're just keeping a lot of rooms numbered until there's enough
+States to go around."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope we get over all right," put in Whistlebinkie, who wasn't very
+brave.</p>
+
+<p>"O I guess we will," said the Unwiseman, cheerfully. "I was speaking to
+that sailor on that very point this morning, and he said the chances
+were that we'd go through all right unless we lost one of the screws."</p>
+
+<p>"Screws?" inquired Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;it don't sound possible, but this ship is pushed through the water
+by a couple of screws fastened in back there at the stern. It's the
+screws sterning that makes the boat go," the Unwiseman remarked with all
+the pride of one who really knows what he is talking about. "Of course
+if one of 'em came unfastened and fell off we wouldn't go so fast and if
+both of 'em fell off we wouldn't go at all, until we got the sails up
+and the wind came along and blew us into port."</p>
+
+<p>"Well I never!" said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"O I knew that before I came aboard," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> the Unwiseman, sagely. "So I
+brought a half dozen screws along with me. There they are."</p>
+
+<p>And the old gentleman plunged his hand into his pocket and produced six
+bright new shining screws.</p>
+
+<p>"You see I'm ready for anything," he observed. "I think every passenger
+who takes one of these screwpeller boats&mdash;that's what they call 'em,
+screwpellers&mdash;ought to come prepared to furnish any number of screws in
+case anything happens. I'm not going to tell anybody I've got 'em
+though. I'm just holding these back until the Captain tells us the
+screws are gone, and then I'll offer mine."</p>
+
+<p>"And suppose yours are lost too, and there ain't any wind for the
+sails?" demanded Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got a pair o' bellows down in my box," said the Unwiseman
+gleefully. "We can sit right behind the sails and blow the whole
+business right in the teeth of a dead clam."</p>
+
+<p>"Dead what?" roared Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"A dead clam," said the Unwiseman. "I haven't found out why they call it
+a dead clam&mdash;unless it's because it's so still&mdash;but that's the way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> we
+sailors refer to a time at sea when there isn't a handful o' wind in
+sight and the ocean is so smooth that even the billows are afraid to
+roll in it for fear they'd roll off."</p>
+
+<p>"We sailors!" ejaculated Whistlebinkie, scornfully under his breath.
+"Hoh!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well you certainly are pretty well prepared for whatever happens,
+aren't you, Mr. Unwiseman," said Mollie admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"I like to think so," said the old gentleman. "There's only one thing
+I've overlooked," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Wass-that?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I have most unaccountably forgotten to bring my skates along, and I'm
+sure I don't know what would happen to me without 'em if by some
+mischance we ran into an iceberg and I was left aboard of it when the
+steamer backed away," the Unwiseman remarked.</p>
+
+<p>Here the deck steward came along with a trayful of steaming cups of
+chicken broth.</p>
+
+<p>"Broth, ma'am," he said politely to Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Mollie. "I think I will."</p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie and the Unwiseman also helped themselves, and a few
+minutes later the Unwiseman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> disappeared bearing his cup in his hand. It
+was three hours after this that Mollie again encountered him, sitting
+down near the stern of the vessel, a doleful look upon his face, and the
+cup of chicken broth untasted and cold in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, dearie?" the little girl asked.</p>
+
+<p>"O&mdash;nothing," he said, "only I&mdash;I've been trying for the past three
+hours to find out how to tie a sinker to this soup and it regularly
+stumps me. I can tie it to the cup, but whether it's the motion of the
+ship or something else, I don't know what, I can't think of swallowing
+<i>that</i> without feeling queer here."</p>
+
+<p>And the poor old gentleman rubbed his stomach and looked forlornly out
+to sea.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="III" id="III">III.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>AT SEA</h3>
+
+<p>It was all of three days later before the little party of travellers met
+again on deck. I never inquired very closely into the matter but from
+what I know of the first thousand miles of the ocean between New York
+and Liverpool I fancy Mollie and Whistlebinkie took very little interest
+in anybody but themselves until they had got over that somewhat uneven
+stretch of water. The ocean is more than humpy from Nantucket Light on
+and travelling over it is more or less like having to slide over eight
+or nine hundred miles of scenic railroads, or bumping the bumps, not for
+three seconds, but for as many successive days, a proceeding which
+interferes seriously with one's appetite and gives one an inclination to
+lie down in a comfortable berth rather than to walk vigorously up and
+down on deck&mdash;though if you <i>can</i> do the latter it is the very best
+thing in the world <i>to</i> do. As for the Unwiseman all I know about him
+during that period is that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> finally gave up his problem of how to tie
+a sinker to a half-pint of chicken broth, and diving head first into the
+ventilator through which he had made his first appearance on deck,
+disappeared from sight. On the morning of the fourth day however he
+flashed excitedly along the deck past where Mollie and Whistlebinkie
+having gained courage to venture up into Mollie's steamer chair were
+sitting, loudly calling for the Captain.</p>
+
+<p>"Hi-hullo!" called Mollie, as the old gentleman rushed by. "Mr.
+Me!"&mdash;Mr. Me it will be remembered by his friends was the name the
+Unwiseman had had printed on his visiting cards. "Mister Me&mdash;come here!"</p>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman paused for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm looking for the Captain," he called back. "I find I forgot to tell
+the burgular who's rented my house that he mustn't steal my kitchen
+stove until I get back, and I want the Captain to turn around and go
+back for a few minutes so that I can send him word."</p>
+
+<p>"He wouldn't do that, Mr. Me," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Then let him set me on shore somewhere where I can walk back," said the
+Unwiseman. "It would be perfectly terrible if that burgular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> stole my
+kitchen stove. I'd have to eat all my bananas and eclairs raw, and
+besides I use that stove to keep the house cool in summer."</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't any shore out here to put you on," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's your bottle of native land?" jeered Whistlebinkie. "You might
+walk home on that."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie. "Don't make him angry."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the Unwiseman ruefully. "I'm sure I don't know what to do
+about it. It is the only kitchen stove I've got, and it's taken me ten
+years to break it in. It would be very unfortunate just as I've got the
+stove to do its work exactly as I want it done to go and lose it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you send a wireless message?" suggested Mollie. "They've got
+an office on board, and you can telegraph to him."</p>
+
+<p>"First rate," said the old man. "I'd forgotten that." And the Unwiseman
+sat down and wrote the following dispatch:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Burgular</span>:</p>
+
+<p>Please do not steal my kitchen stove. If you need a stove steal
+something else like the telephone book or that empty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> bottle of
+Woostershire Sauce standing on the parlor mantel-piece with the
+daisy in it, and sell them to buy a new stove with the money. I've
+had that stove for ten years and it has only just learned how to
+cook and it would be very annoying to me to have to get a new one
+and have to teach it how I like my potatoes done. You know the one
+I mean. It's the only stove in the house, so you can't get it
+mixed up with any other. If you do I shall persecute you to the
+full extent of the law and have you arrested for petty parsimony
+when I get back. If you find yourself strongly tempted to steal it
+the best thing to do is to keep it red hot with a rousing fire on
+its insides so that it will be easier for you to keep your hands
+off.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;">Yours trooly,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">The Unwiseman</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>P.S. Take the poker if you want to but leave the stove. It's a
+wooden poker and not much good anyhow.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;">Yours trooly,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">The Unwiseman</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"There!" he said as he finished writing out the message. "I guess
+that'll fix it all right."</p>
+
+<p>"It-tortoo," whistled Whistlebinkie through the top of his hat.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" said Mollie, severely.</p>
+
+<p>"It-ought-to-fix-it," repeated Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>And the Unwiseman ran up the deck to the wireless telegraph office. In a
+moment he returned, his face full of joy.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I got the best of 'em that time!" he chortled gleefully. "What
+do you suppose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> Mollie? They actually wanted me to pay twenty-one
+dollars and sixty cents for that telegram. The very idea!"</p>
+
+<p>"Phe-ee-ew!" whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Very far from few," retorted the Unwiseman. "It was many rather than
+few and I told the man so. 'I can buy five new kitchen stoves for that
+amount of money,' said I. 'I can't help that,' said the man. 'I guess
+you can't,' said I. 'If you could the price o' kitchen stoves would go
+up'."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"I told him I was just as wireless as he was, and I tossed my message up
+in the air and last time I saw it it was flying back to New York as
+tight as it could go," said the Unwiseman. "I guess I can send a message
+without wires as well as anybody else. It's a great load off my mind to
+have it fixed, I can tell you," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last, Mr. Me?"
+asked Mollie, as her old friend seated himself on the foot-rest of her
+steamer chair.</p>
+
+<p>"O I've managed to keep busy," said the Unwiseman, gazing off at the
+rolling waves.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"See-zick?" he whistled.</p>
+
+<p>"What me?" asked the Unwiseman. "Of course not&mdash;we sailors don't get
+sea-sick like land-lubbers. No, sirree. I've been a little miserable due
+to my having eaten something that didn't agree with me&mdash;I very foolishly
+ate a piece of mince pie about five years ago&mdash;but except for that I've
+been feeling first rate. For the most part I've been watching the screw
+driver&mdash;they've got a big steam screw driver down-stairs in the cellar
+that keeps the screws to their work, and I got so interested watching it
+I've forgotten all about meals and things like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen horrizon yet?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," returned the Unwiseman gloomily. "It's about the stupidest thing
+you ever saw. See that long line over there where the sky comes down and
+touches the water?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well that's what they call the horrizon," said the Unwiseman
+contemptuously. "It's nothin' but a big circle runnin' round and round
+the scenery, day and night, now and forever.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> It won't go near anybody
+and it won't let anybody go near it. I guess it's just about the most
+unsociable fish that ever swam the sea. Speakin' about fish, what do you
+say to trollin' for a whale this afternoon?"</p>
+
+<p>"That would be fine!" cried Mollie. "Have you any tackle?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh my yes," replied the Unwiseman. "I've got a half a mile o' trout
+line, a minnow hook and a plate full o' vermicelli."</p>
+
+<p>"Vermicelli?" demanded Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;don't you know what Vermicelli is? It's sort of baby macaroni,"
+explained the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"What good is it for fishing?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know yet," said the Unwiseman "but between you and me I don't
+believe if you baited a hook with it any ordinary fish who'd left his
+eyeglasses on the mantel-piece at home could tell it from a worm. I
+neglected to bring any worms along in my native land bottle, and I've
+searched the ship high and low without finding a place where I could dig
+for 'em, so I borrowed the vermicelli from the cook instead."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Does-swales-like-woyms?" whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know anything about swales," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"I meant-twales," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Never heard of a twale neither," retorted the Unwiseman. "Just what
+sort of a rubber fish is a twale?"</p>
+
+<p>"He means whales," Mollie explained.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't he say what he means then?" said the Unwiseman scornfully. "I
+never knew such a feller for twisted talk. He ties a word up into a
+double bow knot and expects everybody to know what he means right off
+the handle. I don't know whether whales like vermicelli or not. Seems to
+me though that a fish that could bite at a disagreeable customer like
+Jonah would eat anything whether it was vermicelli or just plain
+catterpiller."</p>
+
+<p>"Well even if they did you couldn't pull 'em aboard with a trout line
+anyhow," snapped Whistlebinkie. "Whales is too heavy for that."</p>
+
+<p>"Who wants to pull 'em aboard, Smarty?" retorted the Unwiseman. "I leave
+it to Mollie if I ever said I wanted to pull 'em aboard. Quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> the
+contrary opposite. I'd rather not pull a whale on board this boat and
+have him flopping around all over the deck, smashing chairs and windows,
+and knockin' people overboard with his tail, and spouting water all over
+us like that busted fire-hose the firemen turned on me when I thought
+I'd caught fire from my pipe."</p>
+
+<p>"You did say you'd take us fishing for whales, Mr. Me," Mollie put in
+timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a very different thing," protested the Unwiseman. "Fishin' for
+whales is a nice gentle sport as long as you don't catch any. But of
+course if you're going to take his side against me, why you needn't go."</p>
+
+<p>And the Unwiseman rose up full of offended dignity and walked solemnly
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me!" sighed Mollie. "I'm so sorry he's angry."</p>
+
+<p>"Nuvver-mind," whistled Whistlebinkie. "He won't stay mad long. He'll be
+back in a little while with some more misinformation."</p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie was right, for in five minutes the old gentleman returned
+on the run.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurry up, Mollie!" he cried. "The sailor up on the front piazza says
+there's a school of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> Porpoises ahead. I'm going to ask 'em some
+questions."</p>
+
+<p>Mollie and Whistlebinkie sprang quickly from the steamer chairs and
+hurried along after the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"I've heard a lot about these Schools of Fish," the Unwiseman observed
+as they all leaned over the rail together. "And I never believed there
+was such a thing, because all the fish I ever saw were pretty
+stupid&mdash;leastways there never were any of them could answer any of the
+questions I put to 'em. That may have been because being out o' water
+they were very uncomfortable and feelin' kind of stiff and bashful, but
+out here it ought to be different and I'm going to examine 'em and see
+what they're taught."</p>
+
+<p>"Here they come!" cried Mollie, as a huge gathering of porpoises
+plunging and tumbling over each other appeared under the lee of the
+vessel. "My what a lot!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hi there, Porpy!" shouted the Unwiseman. "Por-pee, come over here a
+minute. What will seven times eight bananas divided by three mince pies
+multiplied by eight cream cakes, subtracted from a Monkey with two tails
+leave?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The old man cocked his head to one side as if trying to hear the answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't hear anything, do you?" he asked in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe they didn't hear you," suggested Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Askem-something-geezier," whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Something easier?" sniffed the Unwiseman. "There couldn't be anything
+easier than that. It will leave a very angry monkey. You just try to
+subtract something from a monkey some time and you'll see. However it is
+a long question so I'll give 'em another."</p>
+
+<p>The old gentleman leaned forward again and addressing the splashing fish
+once more called loudly out:</p>
+
+<p>"If that other sum is too much for you perhaps some one of you can tell
+me how many times seven divided by eleven is a cat with four kittens,"
+he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>Still there was no answer. The merry creatures of the sea were
+apparently too busy jumping over each other and otherwise indulging in
+playful pranks in the water.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"They're mighty weak on Arithmetic, that's sure," sneered the Unwiseman.
+"I guess I'll try 'em on jography. Hi there, Porpee&mdash;you big black one
+over there&mdash;where's Elmira, New York?"</p>
+
+<p>The Porpoise turned a complete somersault in the air and disappeared
+beneath the water.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Jackass!" growled the Unwiseman. "Guess he hasn't been going to
+school very long not to be able to say that Elmira, New York, is at
+Elmira, New York. Maybe we'll have better luck with that deep blue
+Porpoise over there. Hi-you-you blue Porpoise. What's the chief product
+of the lunch counter at Poughkeepsie?"</p>
+
+<p>Again the Unwise old head was cocked to one side to catch the answer but
+all the blue porpoise did was to wiggle his tail in the air, as he
+butted one of his brother porpoises in the stomach. The Unwiseman looked
+at them with an angry glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Well all I've got to say about you," he shouted, "is that your father
+and mother are wasting their money sending you to school!"</p>
+
+<p>To which one of the Porpoises seemed to reply<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> by sticking his head up
+out of the crest of a wave and sneezing at the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't even learned good manners!" roared the old gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon the whole school indulged in a mighty scrimmage in the water
+jumping over, under and upon each other and splashing the spray high in
+the air until finally Whistlebinkie in his delight at the sight cried
+out,</p>
+
+<p>"I-guess-sitz-the-football-team!"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess for once you're right, Whistlebinkie," cried the Unwiseman.
+"And that accounts for their not knowing anything about 'rithmetic,
+jography or Elmira. When a feller's a foot-ball player he don't seem to
+care much for such higher education as the Poughkeepsie lunch counter,
+or how many is five. I knew the boys were runnin' foot-ball into the
+ground on land, but I never imagined the fish were running it into the
+water at sea. Too bad&mdash;too bad."</p>
+
+<p>And again the Unwiseman took himself off and was not seen again the rest
+of the day. Nor did Mollie and Whistlebinkie see much of him for the
+rest of the voyage for the old fellow suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> got it into his head
+that possibly there were a few undiscovered continents about, the first
+sight of which would win for him all of the glory of a Christopher
+Columbus, and in order to be unquestionably the very first to catch
+sight of them, he climbed up to the top of the fore-mast and remained
+there for two full days. Fortunately neither the Captain nor the
+Bo'-sun's mate noticed what the old gentleman was doing or they would
+have put him in irons not as a punishment but to protect him from his
+own rash adventuring. And so it was that the Unwiseman was the first
+person on board to catch a glimpse of the Irish Coast, the which he
+announced with a loud cry of glee.</p>
+
+<p>"Land ho&mdash;on the starboard tack!" he cried, and then he slid down the
+mast-head and rushed madly down the deck crying joyfully, "I've
+discovered a continent. Hurray for me. I've discovered a continent."</p>
+
+<p>"Watcher-goin'-t'do-with it?" whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Depends on how big it is," said the Unwiseman dancing gleefully. "If
+it's a great big one I'll write my name on it and leave it where it is,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
+but if it's only a little one I'll dig it up and take it home and add it
+to my back yard."</p>
+
+<p>But alas for the new Columbus! It soon turned out that his new discovery
+was only Ireland which thousands, not to say millions, had discovered
+long before he had, so that the glory which he thought he had won soon
+faded away. But the old gentleman was very amiable about it after he got
+over his first disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care," he confided to Mollie later on. "There isn't anything in
+discovering continents anyway. Look at Columbus. He discovered America,
+but somebody else came along and took it away from him and as far as I
+can find out he don't even own an abandoned farm in the United States
+to-day. So what's the good?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thass-wat-I-say," whistled Whistlebinkie. "I wouldn't give seven cents
+to discover all the continents there is. I'd ruther be a live rubber
+doll than a dead dishcover anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>Later in the afternoon when the ship had left Queenstown, Mollie found
+the Unwiseman sitting in her steamer chair hidden behind a copy of the
+London <i>Times</i> which had been brought aboard, and strange to relate he
+had it right-side<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> up and was eagerly running through its massive
+columns.</p>
+
+<p>"Looking for more pollywogs?" the little girl asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the Unwiseman. "I'm trying to find the latest news from
+America. I want to see if that burgular has stole my stove. So far there
+don't seem to be anything about it here, so the chances are it's still
+safe."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think they'd cable it across?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"What the stove?" demanded the Unwiseman. "You can't send a stove by
+cable, stupid."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;the news," said Mollie. "It wouldn't be very important, would it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It would be important to me," said the Unwiseman, "and inasmuch as I
+bought and paid for their old paper I've got a right to expect 'em to
+put the news I want in it. If they don't I'll sue 'em for damages and
+buy a new stove with the money."</p>
+
+<p>The next morning bright and early the little party landed in England.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="IV" id="IV">IV.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>ENGLAND</h3>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman's face wore a very troubled look as the little party of
+travellers landed at Liverpool. He had doffed his sailor's costume and
+now appeared in his regular frock coat and old fashioned beaver hat, and
+carried an ancient carpet-bag in his hand, presenting to Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie a more familiar appearance than while in his sea-faring
+clothes, but he was evidently very much worried about something.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheer up," whistled Whistlebinkie noting his careworn expression. "You
+look as if you were down to your last cream-cake. Wass-er-matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think they've fooled us," replied the Unwiseman with a doubtful shake
+of his gray head. "This don't look like England to me, and I've been
+wondering if that ship mightn't be a pirate ship after all that's
+carried us all off to some strange place with the idea of thus getting
+rid of us, so that the Captain might go home and steal our
+kitchen-stoves and other voluble things."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Pooh!" ejaculated Whistlebinkie. "What makes you thinkit-taint
+England?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's too big in the first place," replied the Unwiseman, "and in the
+second it ain't the right color. Just look at this map and you'll see."</p>
+
+<p>Here Mr. Me took a map of the world out of his pocket and spread it out
+before Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"See that?" he said pointing to England in one corner. "I've measured it
+off with a tape measure and it's only four inches long and about an inch
+and a half wide. This place we're in now is more'n five miles long and,
+as far as I can see two or three miles across. And look at the color on
+the map."</p>
+
+<p>"Tspink," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what you mean by tspink," said the Unwiseman, "but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's-pink," explained Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," said the Unwiseman. "That's just what it is, but that ain't
+the color of this place. Seems to me this place is a sort of dull yellow
+dusty brown. And besides I don't see any houses on the map and this
+place is just chock-full of them."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"O well, I guess it's all right," said Whistlebinkie. "Maybe when we get
+further in we'll find it grows pinker. Cities ain't never the same color
+as the country you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Possibly," said the Unwiseman, "but even then that wouldn't account for
+the difference in size. Why should the map say it's four inches by an
+inch and a half, when anybody can see that this place is five miles by
+three just by looking at it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess-smaybe it's grown some since that map was made," suggested
+Whistlebinkie. "Being surrounded by water you'd think it would grow."</p>
+
+<p>Just then a British policeman walked along the landing stage and
+Whistlebinkie added, "There's a p'liceman. You might speak to him about
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Good idea," said the Unwiseman. "I'll do it." And he walked up to the
+officer.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Robert," said he. "You'll pardon my curiosity, but is
+this England?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yessir," replied the officer politely. "You are on British soil, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm! British, eh?" observed the Unwiseman.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> "Just what <i>is</i> that?
+French for English, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"This is Great Britain, sir," explained the officer with a smile.
+"Hingland is a part of Great Britain."</p>
+
+<p>"Hingland?" asked the Unwiseman with a frown.</p>
+
+<p>"Yessir&mdash;this is Hingland, sir," replied the policeman, as he turned on
+his heel and wandered on down the stage leaving the Unwiseman more
+perplexed than when he had asked the question.</p>
+
+<p>"It looks queerer than ever," said the Unwiseman when he had returned to
+Whistlebinkie. "These people don't seem to have agreed on the name of
+this place, which I consider to be a very suspicious circumstance. That
+policeman said first it was England, then he said it was Great Britain,
+and then he changed it to Hingland, while Mollie's father says it's
+Liverpool. It's mighty strange, and I wish I was well out of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you call the p'liceman Robert, Mr. Me?" asked Whistlebinkie,
+who somehow or other did not seem to share the old gentleman's fears.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"O I read somewhere that the English policemen were all Bobbies," the
+Unwiseman replied. "But I didn't feel that I'd ought to be so familiar
+as to call him that until I'd got to know him better, so I just called
+him Robert."</p>
+
+<p>Later on Mollie explained the situation to the old fellow.</p>
+
+<p>"Liverpool," she said, "is a part of England and England is a part of
+Great Britain, just as Binghamton is a part of New York and New York is
+a part of the United States of America."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;that's it, eh?" he answered. "And how about Hingland?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is the way some of the English people talk," explained Mollie. "A
+great many of them drop their H's," she added.</p>
+
+<p>"Aha!" said the Unwiseman, nodding his head. "I see. And the police go
+around after them picking them up, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess that's it," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Because if they didn't," continued the Unwiseman, "the streets and
+gutters would be just over-run with 'em. If 20,000,000 people dropped
+twenty-five H's apiece every day that would be 500,000,000 H's lyin'
+around<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>. I don't believe you could drive a locomotive through that
+many&mdash;Mussy Me! It must keep the police busy pickin' 'em up."</p>
+
+<p>"Perfly-awful!" whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to write a letter to the King about it," said the Unwiseman,
+"and send him a lot of rules like I have around my house to keep people
+from being so careless."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a splendid idea," cried Mollie, overjoyed at the notion. "What
+will you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"H'm!" said the Unwiseman. "Let me see&mdash;I guess I'd write like this:"
+and the strange old man sat down on a trunk and dashed off the following
+letter to King Edward.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Mister King</span>:</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;">Liverpool, June 10, 19&mdash;.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>I understand that the people of your Island is very careless about
+their aitches and that the pleece are worked to a frazzil pickin'
+'em up from the public highways. Why don't you by virtue of your
+exhausted rank propagate the following rules to unbait the
+nuisance?</p>
+
+<p>I. My subjex must be more careful of their aitches.</p>
+
+<p>II. Any one caught dropping an aitch on the public sidewalks will
+be fined two dollars.</p>
+
+<p>III. Aitches dropped by accident must be picked up to once
+immediately and without delay.</p>
+
+<p>IV. All aitches found roaming about the city streets unaccompanied
+by their owners will be promptly arrested by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> pleece and kept
+in the public pound until called for after which they will be
+burnt, and the person calling for them fined two dollars.</p>
+
+<p>V. All persons whether they be a pleeceman or a Dook or other
+nobil personidges seeing a strange aitch lying on the sidewalk, or
+otherwise roaming at random without any visible owner whether it
+is his or not must pick it up to once immediately and without
+delay under penalty of the law.</p>
+
+<p>VI. Capital H's must be muzzled before took out in public and must
+be securely fastened by glue or otherwise to the words they are
+the beginning of.</p>
+
+<p>VII. Anybody tripping up on the aitch of another person thus
+carelessly left lying about can sue for damages and get two
+dollars for a broken leg, five dollars for a broken nose, seven
+dollars and a half for a black eye, and so on up, from the person
+leaving the aitch thus carelessly about, or a year's imprisonment,
+or both.</p>
+
+<p>VIII. A second offense will be punished by being sent to South
+Africa for five years when if the habit is continued more severe
+means will be taken like being made to live in Boston or some
+other icebound spot.</p>
+
+<p>IX. School teachers catching children using aitches in this manner
+will keep them in after school and notify their parents who will
+spank them and send them to bed without their supper.</p>
+
+<p>X. Pleecemen will report all aitches found on public streets to
+the public persecutor and will be paid at the rate of six cents a
+million for all they pick up.</p>
+
+<p>I think if your madjesty will have these rules and regulations
+printed on a blue pasteboard card in big red letters and hung up
+all over everywhere you will be able, your h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h., to unbait
+this terrible nuisance.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;">Yoors trooly,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">The Unwiseman</span>.</span><br />
+</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p>P.S. It may happen, your h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h., that some of your subjex can't
+help themselves in this aitch dropping habit, and it would
+therefore be mercyful of you to provide letter boxes on all the
+street cornders where they could drop their aitches into without
+breaking the rules of your high and mighty highness.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;">Give my love to the roil family.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;">Yoors trooly,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 38em;"><span class="smcap">The Unwiseman</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"There," he said when he had scribbled the letter off with his lead
+pencil. "If the King can only read that it ought to make him much
+obliged to me for helping him out of a very bad box. This Island ain't
+so big, map or no map, that they can afford to have it smothered in
+aitches as it surely will be if the habit ain't put a stop to. I wonder
+what the King's address is."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Whistlebinkie with a grin. "He and I ain't never
+called on each other yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Is King his last name or his first, I wonder," said the Unwiseman,
+scratching his head wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"His first name is Edward," said Mollie. "It used to be Albert Edward,
+but he dropped the Albert."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Edward what?" demanded the Unwiseman. "Don't they call him Edward
+Seventh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes they do," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I guess I'll address it to Edward S. King, Esquire, Number Seven,
+London&mdash;that's where all the kings live when they're home," said the
+Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>And so the letter went addressed to Edward S. King, Esquire, Number
+Seven, London, England, but whether His Majesty ever received it or not
+I do not know. Certainly if he did he never answered it, and that makes
+me feel that he never received it, for the King of England is known as
+the First Gentleman of Europe, and I am quite sure that one who deserves
+so fine a title as that would not leave a polite letter like the
+Unwiseman's unanswered. Mollie's father was very much impressed when he
+heard of the Unwiseman's communication.</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't be surprised if the King made him a Duke, for that," he
+said. "It is an act of the highest statesmanship to devise so simple a
+plan to correct so widespread an evil. If the Unwiseman were only an
+Englishman he might even become Prime Minister."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No," said the Unwiseman later, when Mollie told him what her father had
+said. "He couldn't make me Prime Minister because I haven't ever studied
+zoology and couldn't preach a sermon or even take up a collection
+properly, but as for being a Duke&mdash;well if he asked me as a special
+favor I might accept that. The Duke of Me&mdash;how would that sound,
+Mollie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh it would be perfectly beautiful!" cried Mollie overwhelmed by the
+very thought of anything so grand.</p>
+
+<p>"Or Baron Brains&mdash;eh?" continued the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"That would just suit you," giggled Whistlebinkie. "Barren Brains is you
+all over."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Fizzledinkie," said the Unwiseman. "For once I quite agree
+with you. I guess I'll call on some tailor up in London and see what it
+would cost me to buy a Duke's uniform so's to be ready when the King
+sends for me. It would be fine to walk into his office with a linen
+duster on and have him say, 'From this time on Mister Me you're a Duke.
+Go out and get dressed for tea,' and then turn around three times, bow
+to the Queen, whisk off the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> duster and stand there in the roil presence
+with the Duke's uniform already on. I guess he'd say that was American
+enterprise all right."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd make a hit for sure!" roared Whistlebinkie dancing up and down
+with glee.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do it!" ejaculated the Unwiseman with a look of determination in
+his eyes. "If I can get a ready-made Duke's suit for $8.50 I'll do it.
+Even if it never happened I could wear the suit to do my gardening in
+when I get home. Did your father say anything about this being England
+or not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mollie. "He said it was England all right. He's been here
+before and he says you can always tell it by the soldiers walking around
+with little pint measures on their heads instead of hats, and little
+boys in beaver hats with no tails to their coats."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said the Unwiseman. "I'm satisfied if he is&mdash;only the man
+that got up that map ought to be spoken to about making it pink when it
+is only a dull yellow dusty gray, and only four inches long instead of
+five miles. Some stranger trying to find it in the dark some night might
+stumble over it and never know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> that he'd got what he was looking for.
+Where are we going to from here?"</p>
+
+<p>"We're going straight up to London," said Mollie. "The train goes in an
+hour&mdash;just after lunch. Will you come and have lunch with us?"</p>
+
+<p>"No thank you," replied the Unwiseman. "I've got a half dozen lunches
+saved up from the ship there in my carpet bag, and I'll eat a couple of
+those if I get hungry."</p>
+
+<p>"Saved up from the ship?" cried Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," said the Unwiseman. "I've got a bottle full of that chicken broth
+they gave us the first day out that I didn't even try to eat; six or
+seven bottlefuls of beef tea, and about two dozen ginger-snaps, eight
+pounds of hard-tack, and a couple of apple pies. I kept ordering things
+all the way across whether I felt like eating them or not and whatever I
+didn't eat I'd bottle up, or wrap up in a piece of paper and put away in
+the bag. I've got just three dinners, two breakfasts and four lunches in
+there. When I get to London I'm going to buy a bunch of bananas and have
+an eclaire put up in a tin box and those with what I've already got
+ought to last me throughout the whole trip."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"By the way, Mr. Me," said Mollie, a thoughtful look coming into her
+eyes. "Do you want me to ask my Papa to buy you a ticket for London? I
+think he'd do it if I asked him."</p>
+
+<p>"I know he would," said Whistlebinkie. "He's one of the greatest men in
+the world for doing what Mollie asks him to."</p>
+
+<p>"No thank you," replied the Unwiseman. "Of course if he had invited me
+to join the party at the start I might have been willing to have went at
+his expense, but seeing as how I sort of came along on my own hook I
+think I'd better look after myself. I'm an American, I am, and I kind of
+like to be free and independent like."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any money with you?" asked Mollie anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"No," laughed the Unwiseman. "That is, not more'n enough to buy that
+Duke's suit for $8.50 with. What's the use of having money? It's only a
+nuisance to carry around, and it makes you buy a lot of things you don't
+want just because you happen to have it along. People without money get
+along a great deal cheaper than people with it. Millionaires spend twice
+as much as poor people. Money ain't very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> sociable you know and it sort
+of hates to stay with you no matter how kind you are to it. So I didn't
+bring any along except the aforesaid eight-fifty."</p>
+
+<p>"Tisn't much, is it," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Not in dollars, but it's a lot in cents&mdash;eight hundred and fifty of
+'em&mdash;that's a good deal," said the Unwiseman cheerfully. "Then each cent
+is ten mills&mdash;that's&mdash;O dear me&mdash;such a lot of mills!"</p>
+
+<p>"Eight thousand five hundred," Mollie calculated.</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness!" cried the Unwiseman. "I hope there don't anybody find out
+I've got all that with me. I'd be afraid to go to sleep for fear
+somebody'd rob me."</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>how</i>&mdash;how are you going to get to London?" asked Mollie anxiously.
+"It's too far to walk."</p>
+
+<p>"O I'll get there," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll probably get a hitch on the cow-catcher," suggested
+Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you worry," laughed the Unwiseman. "It'll be all right, only&mdash;"
+here he paused and looked about him to make sure that no one was
+listening. "Only," he whispered, "I wish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> somebody would carry my
+carpet-bag. It's a pretty big one as you can see, and I <i>might</i>&mdash;I don't
+say I would&mdash;but I might have trouble getting to London if I had to
+carry it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be very glad to take care of it," said Mollie. "Should I have it
+checked or take it with me in the train?"</p>
+
+<p>"Better take it with you," said the Unwiseman. "I haven't any key and
+some of these railway people might open it and eat up all my supplies."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Mollie. "I'll see that it's put in the train and I
+won't take my eyes off it all the way up to London."</p>
+
+<p>So the little party went up to the hotel. The Unwiseman's carpet-bag was
+placed with the other luggage, and the family went in to luncheon
+leaving the Unwiseman to his own devices. When they came out the old
+fellow was nowhere to be seen and Mollie, much worried about him boarded
+the train. Her father helped her with the carpet-bag, the train-door was
+closed, the conductor came for the tickets and with a loud clanging of
+bells the train started for London. It was an interesting trip but poor
+little Mollie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> did not enjoy it very much. She was so worried to think
+of the Unwiseman all alone in England trying some new patent way of his
+own for getting over so many miles from Liverpool to the capital of the
+British Empire.</p>
+
+<p>"We didn't even tell him the name of our hotel, Whistlebinkie," she
+whispered to her companion. "How will he ever find us again in this big
+place."</p>
+
+<p>"O-he'll-turn-up orright," whistled Whistlebinkie comfortingly. "He
+knows a thing or two even if he is an Unwiseman."</p>
+
+<p>And as it turned out Whistlebinkie was right, for about three minutes
+after their arrival at the London hotel, when the carpet-bag had been
+set carefully aside in one corner of Mollie's room, the cracked voice of
+the Unwiseman was heard singing:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"O a carpet-bag is more comfortabler</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Than a regular Pullman Car.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Just climb inside and with never a stir,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Let no one know where you are;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And then when the train goes choo-choo-choo</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And the ticket man comes arown,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">You'll go without cost and a whizz straight through</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">To jolly old London-town.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">To jolly, to jolly, to jolly, to jolly, to jolly old London-town."</span><br />
+</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Hi there, Mollie&mdash;press the latch on this carpet-bag!" the voice
+continued.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you?" cried Mollie, gazing excitedly about her.</p>
+
+<p>"In here," came the voice from the cavernous depths of the carpet-bag.</p>
+
+<p>"In the bag," gasped Mollie, breathless with surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>The</i> same&mdash;let me out," replied the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>And sure enough, when Mollie and Whistlebinkie with a mad rush sped to
+the carpet-bag and pressed on the sliding lock, the bag flew open and
+Mr. Me himself hopped smilingly up out of its wide-stretched jaws.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="V" id="V">V.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>A CALL ON THE KING</h3>
+
+<p>"Mercy!" cried Mollie as the Unwiseman stepped out of the carpet-bag,
+and began limbering up his stiffened legs by pirouetting about the room.
+"Aren't you nearly stufficated to death?"</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed," said the Unwiseman. "Why should I be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well <i>I</i> should think the inside of a carpet-bag would be pretty
+smothery," observed Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it would be," agreed the Unwiseman, "if I hadn't taken mighty
+good care that it shouldn't be. You see I brought that life-preserver
+along, and every time I needed a bite of fresh air, I'd unscrew the tin
+cap and get it. I pumped it full of fine salt air the day we left
+Ireland for just that purpose."</p>
+
+<p>"What a splendid idea!" ejaculated Mollie full of admiration for the
+Unwiseman's ingenuity.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes I think it's pretty good," said the Unwiseman, "and when I get back
+home I'm going to invent it and make a large fortune out of it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> Of
+course there ain't many people nowadays, especially among the rich, who
+travel in carpet-bags the way I do, or get themselves checked through
+from New York to Chicago in trunks, but there are a lot of 'em who are
+always complaining about the lack of fresh air in railroad trains
+especially when they're going through tunnels, so I'm going to patent a
+little pocket fresh air case that they can carry about with them and use
+when needed. It is to be made of rubber like a hot-water bag, and all
+you've got to do before starting off on a long journey is to take your
+bicycle pump, pump the fresh-air bag full of the best air you can find
+on the place and set off on your trip. Then when the cars get snuffy,
+just unscrew the cap and take a sniff."</p>
+
+<p>"My goodness!" cried Mollie. "You ought to make a million dollars out of
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"Million?" retorted the Unwiseman. "Well I should say so. Why there are
+80,000,000 people in America and if I sold one of those fresh-air bags a
+year to only 79,000,000 of 'em at two dollars apiece for ten years you
+see where I'd come out. They'd call me the Fresh Air<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> King and print my
+picture in the newspapers."</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't lend me two dollars now, could you?" asked Whistlebinkie
+facetiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes I <i>could</i>," said the Unwiseman with a frown, "but I won't&mdash;but you
+can go out on the street and breathe two dollars worth of fresh air any
+time you want to and have it charged to my account."</p>
+
+<p>Mollie laughed merrily at the Unwiseman's retort, and Whistlebinkie for
+the time being had nothing to say, or whistle either for that matter.</p>
+
+<p>"You missed a lot of interesting scenery on the way up, Mr. Me," said
+Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"No I didn't," said the Unwiseman. "I heard it all as it went by, and
+that's good enough for me. I'd just as lief hear a thing as see it any
+day. I saw some music once and it wasn't half as pretty to look at as it
+was when I heard it, and it's the same way about scenery if you only get
+your mind fixed up so that you can enjoy it that way. Somehow or other
+it didn't sound so very different from the scenery I've heard at home,
+and that's one thing that made me like it. I'm very fond of sitting
+quietly in my little room at home and listening to the landscape when
+the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> moon is up and the stars are out, and no end of times as we rattled
+along from Liverpool to London it sounded just like things do over in
+America, especially when we came to the switches at the railroad
+conjunctions. Don't they rattle beautifully!"</p>
+
+<p>"They certainly do!" said Whistlebinkie, prompted largely by a desire to
+get back into the good graces of the Unwiseman. "I love it when we bump
+over them so hard they make-smee-wissle."</p>
+
+<p>"You're all right when you whistle, Fizzledinkie," smiled the Unwiseman.
+"It's only when you try to talk that you are not all that you should be.
+Woyds and you get sort of tangled up and I haven't got time to ravel you
+out. But I say, Mollie, we're really in London are we?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mollie. "This is it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well I guess I'll go out and see what there is about it that makes
+people want to come here," said the Unwiseman. "I've got a list of
+things I want to see, and the sooner I get to work the sooner I'll see
+'em. First thing I want to get a sight of is a real London fog. Then of
+course I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> want to go down to the Aquarium and see the Prince of Whales,
+and call on the King and Queen, and meet a few Dukes, and Earls and
+things like that. Then there's the British Museum. I'm told there is a
+lot of very interesting things down there including some Egyptian
+mummies that are passing their declining years there. I've never talked
+to a mummy in my life and I'd rather like to meet a few of 'em. I wonder
+if Dick Whittington's cat is still living."</p>
+
+<p>"O I don't believe so," said Mollie. "He must have died long years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"The first time and maybe the second or third or even the fourth time,"
+said the Unwiseman. "But cats have nine lives and if he lived fifty
+years for each of them that would be&mdash;let's see, four times nine is
+eighteen, three times two is ten, carry four and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It would be 450 years," laughed Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty old cat," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well there's no harm in asking anyhow, and if he is alive I'm going to
+see him, and if he isn't the chances are they've had him stuffed and a
+stuffed cat is better to look at than no cat at all," said the
+Unwiseman, brushing off his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> hat preparatory to going out. "Come on,
+Mollie&mdash;are you ready?"</p>
+
+<p>The little party trudged down the stairs and out upon the avenue upon
+which their hotel fronted.</p>
+
+<p>"Guess we'd better take a hansom," said the Unwiseman as they emerged
+from the door. "We'll save time going that way if the driver knows his
+business. We'll just tell him to go where we want to go, and in that way
+we won't have to keep asking these Roberts the way round."</p>
+
+<p>"Roberts?" asked Mollie, forgetting the little incident at Liverpool.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh well&mdash;the Bobbies&mdash;the pleecemen," replied the Unwiseman. "I want to
+get used to 'em before I call them that."</p>
+
+<p>So they all climbed into a hansom cab.</p>
+
+<p>"Where to, sir?" asked the cabby, through the little hole in the roof.</p>
+
+<p>"Well I suppose we ought to call on the King first," said the Unwiseman
+to Mollie. "Don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess so," said Mollie timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"To the King's," said the Unwiseman, through the little hole.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Beg pardon!" replied the astonished cabby.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention it," said the Unwiseman. "Drive to the King's house first
+and apologize afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>"I only wanted to know where you wished to go, sir," said the cabby.</p>
+
+<p>"The King's, stupid," roared the Unwiseman, "Mr. Edward S.
+King's&mdash;didn't you ever hear of him?"</p>
+
+<p>"To the Palace, sir?" asked the driver.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course unless his h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h. is living in a tent somewhere&mdash;and hurry
+up. We didn't engage you for the pleasures of conversation, but to drive
+us," said the Unwiseman severely.</p>
+
+<p>The amazed cabman whipped up his horse and a short while afterwards
+reached Buckingham Palace, the home of the King and Queen in London. At
+either side of the gate was a tall sentry box, and a magnificent
+red-coated soldier with a high bear-skin shako on his head paced along
+the path.</p>
+
+<p>"There he is now," said the Unwiseman, excitedly, pointing at the guard.
+"Isn't he a magnificent sight. Come along and I'll introduce you."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman leapt jauntily out of the hansom and Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie timidly followed.</p>
+
+<p>"Howdido, Mr. King," said the Unwiseman stepping in front of the sentry
+and making a profound salaam and almost sweeping the walk with his hat.
+"We've just arrived in London and have called to pay our respects to you
+and Mrs. King. I hope the children are well. We're Americans, Mr. King,
+but for the time being we've decided to overlook all our little
+differences growing out of the Declaration of Independence and wish you
+a Merry Fourth of July."</p>
+
+<p>The sentry was dumb with amazement at this unexpected greeting, and the
+cabby's eyes nearly dropped out of his head they bulged so.</p>
+
+<p>"Mollie, dear," continued Mr. Me, "Come here, my child and let me
+introduce you to Mr. King. Mr. King, this is a little American girl
+named Mollie. She's a bit bashful in your h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h's presence because
+between you and me you are the first real King she's ever saw. We don't
+grow 'em in our country&mdash;that is not your kind. We have Cattle Kings and
+Steel Kings, and I'm expecting to become a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> Fresh Air King myself&mdash;but
+the kind that's born to the&mdash;er&mdash;to the purple like yourself, with a
+gilt crown on his head and the spectre of power in his hand we don't get
+even at the circus."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 356px;"><a name="ILL_005" id="ILL_005"></a>
+<img src="images/ill_005.jpg" width="356" height="500" alt="" />
+<span class="caption">MOLLY MAKES HER COURTESY TO MR. KING</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Very glad to meet you," gasped Mollie, feasting her eyes upon the
+gorgeous red coat of the sentry.</p>
+
+<p>The sentry not knowing what else to do and utterly upset by the
+Unwiseman's eloquence returned the gasp as politely as he could.</p>
+
+<p>"She's a mighty nice little girl, Mr. King," said the Unwiseman with a
+fond glance of admiration at Mollie. "And if any of your little kings
+and queens feel like calling at the hotel some morning for a friendly
+Anglo-American romp, Mollie will be very glad to see them. This other
+young person, your h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h., is Whistlebinkie who belongs to one of the
+best Rubber families of the United States. He looks better than he
+talks. Whistlebinkie, Mr. King. Mr. King, Whistlebinkie."</p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie, too overcome to speak, merely squeaked, a proceeding
+which seemed to please the sentry very much for he returned a truly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
+royal smile and expressed himself as being very glad to meet
+Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Been having pretty cold weather?" asked the Unwiseman genially.</p>
+
+<p>"Been rawther 'ot," said the sentry.</p>
+
+<p>"I only asked," said the Unwiseman with a glance at the guard's shako,
+"because I see you have your fur crown on. Our American Kings wear
+Panama crowns this weather," he added, "but then we're free over there
+and can do pretty much what we like. Did you get my letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beg your pardon?" asked the sentry.</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy!" ejaculated the Unwiseman under his breath. "What an apologetic
+people these English are&mdash;first the cabby and now the King." Then he
+repeated aloud, "My letter&mdash;I wrote to you yesterday about this H
+dropping habit of your people, and I was going to say that if after
+reading it you decided to make me a Duke I'd be very glad to accept if
+the clothes a Duke has to wear don't cost more than $8.50. I might even
+go as high as nine dollars if the suit was a real good one that I could
+wear ten or eleven years&mdash;but otherwise I couldn't afford it. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> would
+be very kind of your h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h. to make me one, but I've always made it a
+rule not to spend more than a dollar a year on my clothes and even a
+Duke has got to wear socks and neckties in addition to his coats and
+trousers. Who is your Majesty's Tailor? That red coat fits you like
+wall-paper."</p>
+
+<p>The sentry said something about buying his uniforms at the Army and Navy
+stores and the Unwiseman observed that he would most certainly have to
+go there and see what he could get for himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell 'em your h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h. sent me," he said pleasantly, "and maybe
+they'll give you a commission on what I buy."</p>
+
+<p>A long pause followed broken only by Whistlebinkie's heavy breathing for
+he had by no means recovered from his excitement over having met a real
+king at last. Finally the Unwiseman spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"We'd like very much to accept your kind invitation to stay to supper,
+Mr. King," he observed&mdash;although the sentry had said nothing at all
+about any such thing&mdash;"but we really can't to-night. You see we are
+paying pretty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> good rates at the hotel and we feel it a sort of duty to
+stay there and eat all we can so as to get our money's worth. And we'd
+like to meet the Queen too, but as you can see for yourself we're hardly
+dressed for that. We only came anyhow to let you know that we were here
+and to tell you that if you ever came to America we'd be mighty glad to
+have you call. I've got a rather nice house of my own with a
+kitchen-stove in it that I wouldn't sell for five dollars that you would
+enjoy seeing. It's rented this summer to one of the most successful
+burgulars in America and I think you'd enjoy meeting him, and don't
+hesitate to bring the children. America's a great place for children,
+your h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h. It's just chock full of back yards for 'em to play in, and
+banisters to slide down, and roller skating rinks and all sorts of
+things that children enjoy. I'll be very glad to let you use my umbrella
+too if the weather happens to be bad."</p>
+
+<p>The sentry was very much impressed apparently by the cordiality of the
+Unwiseman's invitation for he bowed most graciously a half dozen times,
+and touched his bear-skin hat very respectfully, and smiled so royally
+that anybody<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> could see he was delighted with the idea of some day
+visiting that far off land where the Unwiseman lived, and seeing that
+wonderful kitchen-stove of which, as we know, the old gentleman was so
+proud.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way," said the Unwiseman, confidentially. "Before I go I'd like
+to say to you that if you are writing at any time to the Emperor of
+Germany you might send him my kind regards. I had hoped to be able to
+stop over at Kettledam, or wherever it is he lives&mdash;no, it's Pottsdam&mdash;I
+always do get pots and kettles mixed&mdash;I had hoped to be able, I say, to
+stop over there and pay my respects to him, but the chances are I won't
+be able to do so this trip. I'd hate to have him think that I'd been
+over here and hadn't paid any attention to him, and if you'll be so kind
+as to send him my regards he won't feel so badly about it. I'd write and
+tell him myself, but the fact is my German is a little rusty. I only
+know German by sight&mdash;and even then I don't know what it means except
+Gesundheit,&mdash;which is German for 'did you sneeze?' So you see a letter
+addressed to Mr. Hoch&mdash;&mdash;"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Beg pardon, but Mr. Who sir?" asked the Sentry.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hoch, der Kaiser," said the Unwiseman. "That's his name, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>The sentry said he believed it was something like that.</p>
+
+<p>"Well as I was saying even if I wrote he wouldn't understand what I was
+trying to say, so it would be a waste of time," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>The sentry nodded pleasantly, and his eyes twinkled under his great
+bear-skin hat like two sparkling bits of coal.</p>
+
+<p>"Good bye, your h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h.," the Unwiseman continued, holding out his
+hand. "It has been a real pleasure to meet you, and between you and me
+if all kings were as good mannered and decent about every thing as you
+are we wouldn't mind 'em so much over in America. If the rest of 'em are
+like you they're all right."</p>
+
+<p>And so the Unwiseman shook hands with the sentry and Mollie did likewise
+while Whistlebinkie repeated his squeak with a quaver that showed how
+excited he still was. The three travellers re-entered the hansom and
+inasmuch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> as it was growing late they decided not to do any more
+sight-seeing that day, and instructed the cabby to drive them back to
+the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>"Wonderfully fine man, that King," said the Unwiseman as they drove
+along. "I had a sort of an idea he'd have a band playing music all the
+time, with ice cream and cake being served every five minutes in truly
+royal style."</p>
+
+<p>"He was just as pleasant as a plain everyday policeman at home," said
+Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Pleasanter," observed the Unwiseman. "A policeman at home would
+probably have told us to move on the minute we spoke to him, but the
+King was as polite as ginger-bread. I guess we were lucky to find him
+outside there because if he hadn't been I don't believe the head-butler
+would have let us in."</p>
+
+<p>"How-dy'u-know he was the King?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh I just felt it in my bones," said the Unwiseman. "He was so big and
+handsome, and then that red coat with the gold buttons&mdash;why it just
+simply couldn't be anybody else."</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't say much, diddee," whistled Whistlebinkie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No," said the Unwiseman. "I guess maybe that's one of the reasons why
+he's a first class King. The fellow that goes around talking all the
+time might just as well be a&mdash;well a rubber-doll like you, Fizzledinkie.
+It takes a great man to hold his tongue."</p>
+
+<p>The hansom drew up at the hotel door and the travellers alighted.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much," said the Unwiseman with a friendly nod at the
+cabby.</p>
+
+<p>"Five shillin's, please, sir," said the driver.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" demanded the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Five shillin's," repeated the cabby.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you suppose he means?" asked the Unwiseman turning to Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Why he wants to be paid five shillings," whispered Mollie. "Shillings
+is money."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;hm&mdash;well&mdash;I never thought of that," said the Unwiseman uneasily.
+"How much is that in dollars?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a dollar and a quarter," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to buy the horse," protested the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Come now!" put in the driver rather impatiently. "Five shillin's,
+sir."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Charge it," said the Unwiseman, shrinking back. "Just put it on the
+bill, driver, and I'll send you a cheque for it. I've only got ten
+dollars in real money with me, and I tell you right now I'm not going to
+pay out a dollar and a quarter right off the handle at one fell swoop."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll pay now, or I'll&mdash;" the cabby began.</p>
+
+<p>And just then, fortunately for all, Mollie's father, who had been
+looking all over London for his missing daughter, appeared, and in his
+joy over finding his little one, paid the cabby and saved the Unwiseman
+from what promised to be a most unpleasant row.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="VI" id="VI">VI.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THEY GET SOME FOG AND GO SHOPPING</h3>
+
+<p>The following day the Unwiseman was in high-feather. At last he was able
+to contemplate in all its gorgeousness a real London fog of which he had
+heard so much, for over the whole city hung one of those deep, dark,
+impenetrable mists which cause so much trouble at times to those who
+dwell in the British capital.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurry up, Mollie, and come out," he cried enthusiastically rapping on
+the little girl's door. "There's one of the finest fogs outside you ever
+saw. I'm going to get a bottle full of it and take it home with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Hoh!" jeered Whistlebinkie. "What a puffickly 'bsoyd thing to do&mdash;as if
+we never didn't have no fogs at home!"</p>
+
+<p>"We don't have any London fogs in America, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"No but we have very much finer ones," boasted the patriotic
+Whistlebinkie. "They're whiter and cleaner to begin with, and twice as
+deep."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well never mind, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie. "Don't go looking around
+for trouble with the Unwiseman. It's very nice to be able to enjoy
+everything as much as he does and you shouldn't never find fault with
+people because they enjoy themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"Hi-there, Mollie," came the Unwiseman's voice at the door. "Just open
+the door a little and I'll give you a hatful of it."</p>
+
+<p>"You can come in," said Mollie. "Whistlebinkie and I are all dressed."</p>
+
+<p>And the little girl opened the door and the Unwiseman entered. He
+carried his beaver hat in both hands, as though it were a pail without a
+handle, and over the top of it he had spread a copy of the morning's
+paper.</p>
+
+<p>"It's just the finest fog ever," he cried as he came in. "Real thick. I
+thought you'd like to have some, so I went out on the sidewalk and got a
+hat full of it for you."</p>
+
+<p>Mollie and Whistlebinkie gathered about the old gentleman as he removed
+the newspaper from the top of his hat, and gazed into it.</p>
+
+<p>"I do-see-anthing," whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't?" cried the Unwiseman. "Why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> it's chock full of fog. You can
+see it can't you Mollie?" he added anxiously, for to tell the truth the
+hat did seem to be pretty empty.</p>
+
+<p>Mollie tried hard and was able to convince herself that she could see
+just a tiny bit of it and acted accordingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it beautiful!" she ejaculated, as if filled with admiration for
+the contents of the Unwiseman's hat. "I don't think I ever saw any just
+like it before&mdash;did you, Mr. Me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the Unwiseman much pleased, "I don't think I ever did&mdash;it's
+so delicate and&mdash;er&mdash;steamy, eh? And there's miles of it outdoors and
+the Robert down on the corner says we're welcome to all we want of it. I
+didn't like to take it without asking, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," said Mollie, glancing into the hat again.</p>
+
+<p>"So I just went up to the pleeceman and told him I was going to start a
+museum at home and that I wanted to have some real London fog on
+exhibition and would he mind if I took some. 'Go ahead, sir,' he said
+very politely. 'Go ahead and take all you want. We've got plenty of it
+and to spare. You can take it all if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> want it.' Mighty kind of him I
+think," said the Unwiseman. "So I dipped out a hat full for you first.
+Where'll I put it?"</p>
+
+<p>"O&mdash;&mdash;," said Mollie, "I&mdash;I don't know. I guess maybe you'd better pour
+it out into that vase up there on the mantel-piece&mdash;it isn't too thick
+to go in there, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It don't seem to be," said the Unwiseman peering cautiously into the
+hat. "Somehow or other it don't seem quite as thick inside here as it
+did out there on the street. Tell you the truth I don't believe it'll
+keep unless we get it in a bottle and cork it up good and tight&mdash;do
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid not," agreed Mollie. "It's something like snow&mdash;kind of
+vaporates."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to put mine in a bottle," said the Unwiseman, "and seal the
+cork with sealing wax&mdash;then I'll be sure of it. Then I thought I'd get
+an envelope full and send it home to my Burgular just to show him I
+haven't forgotten him&mdash;poor fellow, he must be awful lonesome up there
+in my house without any friends in the neighborhood and no other
+burgulars about to keep him company."</p>
+
+<p>And the strange little man ran off to get his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> bottle filled with fog
+and to fill up an envelope with it as well as a souvenir of London for
+the lonesome Burglar at home. Later on Mollie encountered him leaving
+the hotel door with a small shovel and bucket in his hand such as
+children use on the beach in the summer-time.</p>
+
+<p>"The pleeceman says it's thicker down by the river," he explained to
+Mollie, "and I'm going down there to shovel up a few pailsful&mdash;though
+I've got a fine big bottleful of it already corked up and labelled for
+my museum. And by the way, Mollie, you want to be careful about
+Whistlebinkie in this fog. When he whistles on a bright clear day it is
+hard enough to understand what he is saying, but if he gets <i>his</i> hat
+full of fog and tries to whistle with that it will be something awful. I
+don't think I could stand him if he began to talk any foggier than he
+does ordinarily."</p>
+
+<p>Mollie promised to look out for this and kept Whistlebinkie indoors all
+the morning, much to the rubber-doll's disgust, for Whistlebinkie was
+quite as anxious to see how the fog would affect his squeak as the
+Unwiseman was to avoid having him do so. In the afternoon the fog lifted
+and the Unwiseman returned.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll go out and see if I can find the King's tailor," he said.
+"I'm getting worried about that Duke's suit. I asked the Robert what he
+thought it would cost and he said he didn't believe you could get one
+complete for less than five pounds and the way I figure it out that's a
+good deal more than eight-fifty."</p>
+
+<p>"It's twenty-five dollars," Mollie calculated.</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy!" cried the Unwiseman. "It costs a lot to dress by the pound
+doesn't it&mdash;I guess I'd better write to Mr. King and tell him I've
+decided not to accept."</p>
+
+<p>"Better see what it costs first," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," agreed the Unwiseman. "I will&mdash;want to go with me Mollie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>And they started out. After walking up to Trafalgar Square and thence on
+to Piccadilly, the Unwiseman carefully scanning all the signs before the
+shops as they went, they came to a bake-shop that displayed in its
+window the royal coat of arms and announced that "Muffins by Special
+Appointment to H.&nbsp;R.&nbsp;H. the King," could be had there.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We're getting close," said the Unwiseman. "Let's go in and have a royal
+cream-cake."</p>
+
+<p>Mollie as usual was willing and entering the shop the Unwiseman planted
+himself before the counter and addressed the sales-girl.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a friend of Mr. King, Madame," he observed with a polite bow, "just
+over from America and we had a sort of an idea that we should like to
+eat a really regal piece of cake. What have you in stock made by Special
+Appointment for the King?"</p>
+
+<p>"We 'ave Hinglish Muffins," replied the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see a few," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>The girl produced a trayful.</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!" ejaculated the Unwiseman looking at them critically. "They
+ain't very different from common people's muffins are they? What I want
+is some of the stuff that goes to the Palace. I may look green, young
+lady, but I guess I've got sense enough to see that those things are
+<i>not</i> royal."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 354px;"><a name="ILL_006" id="ILL_006"></a>
+<img src="images/ill_006.jpg" width="354" height="500" alt="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THESE ARE THE KIND HIS MAJESTY PREFERS,&quot; SAID THE GIRL</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"These are the kind his majesty prefers," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along, Mollie," said the Unwiseman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> turning away. "I don't want
+to get into trouble and I'm sure this young lady is trying to fool us. I
+am very much obliged to you, Madame," he added turning to the girl at
+the counter. "We'd have been very glad to purchase some of your wares if
+you hadn't tried to deceive us. Those muffins are very pretty indeed but
+when you try to make us believe that they are muffins by special
+appointment to his h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h., Mr. Edward S. King, plain and simple
+Americans though we be, we know better. Even my rubber friend,
+Whistlebinkie here recognizes a bean when he sees it. I shall report
+this matter to the King and beg to wish you a very good afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>And drawing himself up to his full height, the Unwiseman with a great
+show of dignity marched out of the shop followed meekly by Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I-didn-tsee-an-thing th-matter-withem," whistled Whistlebinkie. "They
+looked to me like firs-class-smuffins."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt," said the Unwiseman. "That's because you don't know much. But
+they couldn't fool me. If I'd wanted plain muffins I could have asked
+for them, but when I ask for a muffin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> by special appointment to his h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h.
+the King I want them to give me what I ask for. Perhaps you didn't
+observe that not one of those muffins she brought out was set with
+diamonds and rubies."</p>
+
+<p>"Now that you mention it," said Mollie, "I remember they weren't."</p>
+
+<p>"Prezactly," said the Unwiseman. "They weren't even gold mounted, or
+silver plated, or anything to make 'em different from the plain every
+day muffins that you can buy in a baker's shop at home. I don't believe
+they were by special appointment to anybody&mdash;not even a nearl, much less
+the King. I guess they think we Americans don't know anything over
+here&mdash;but they're barking up the wrong tree if they think they can fool
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"We-mightuv-tastedum!" whistled Whistlebinkie much disappointed, because
+he always did love the things at the baker's. "You can't tell just by
+lookin' at a muffin whether it's good or not."</p>
+
+<p>"Well go back and taste them," retorted the Unwiseman. "It's your
+taste&mdash;only if I had as little taste as you have I wouldn't waste it on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
+that stuff. Ah&mdash;this is the place I've been looking for."</p>
+
+<p>The old man's eyes had fallen upon another sign which read "Robe Maker
+By Special Appointment to T.&nbsp;R.&nbsp;H. The King and The Queen."</p>
+
+<p>"Here's the place, Mollie, where they make the King's clothes," he said.
+"Now for it."</p>
+
+<p>Hand in hand the three travellers entered the tailor's shop.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do, Mr. Snip," said the Unwiseman addressing the gentlemanly
+manager of the shop whose name was on the sign without and who
+approached him as affably as though he were not himself the greatest
+tailor in the British Isles&mdash;for he couldn't have been the King's tailor
+if he had not been head and shoulders above all the rest. "I had a very
+pleasant little chat with his h.&nbsp;r.&nbsp;h. about you yesterday. I could see
+by the fit of his red jacket that you were the best tailor in the world,
+and while he didn't say very much on the subject the King gave me to
+understand that you're pretty nearly all that you should be."</p>
+
+<p>"Verry gracious of his Majesty I am sure,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> replied the tailor, washing
+his hands in invisible soap, and bowing most courteously.</p>
+
+<p>"Now the chances are," continued the Unwiseman, "that as soon as the
+King receives a letter I wrote to him from Liverpool about how to stamp
+out this horrible habit his subjects have of littering up the street
+with aitches, clogging traffic and overworking the Roberts picking 'em
+up, he'll ask me to settle down over here and be a Duke. Naturally I
+don't want to disappoint him because I consider the King to be a mighty
+nice man, but unless I can get a first-class Duke's costume&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We make a specialty of Ducal robes, your Grace," said the Tailor,
+manifesting a great deal of interest in his queer little customer.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on a minute," cried the Unwiseman. "Don't you call me that yet&mdash;I
+shant be a grace until I've decided to accept. What does an A-1 Duke's
+clothes cost?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean the full State&mdash;&mdash;" began the Tailor.</p>
+
+<p>"I come from New York State," said the Unwiseman. "Yes&mdash;I guess that's
+it. New York's the fullest State in the Union. How much for a New York
+State Duke?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The State Robes will cost&mdash;um&mdash;let me see&mdash;I should think about fifteen
+hundred pounds, your Lordship," calculated the Tailor. "Of course it all
+depends on the quality of the materials. Velvets are rawther expensive
+these days."</p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie gave a long low squeak of astonishment. Mollie gasped and
+the Unwiseman turned very pale as he tremblingly repeated the figure.</p>
+
+<p>"Fif-teen-hundred-pounds? Why," he added turning to Mollie, "I'd have to
+live about seven thousand years to get the wear out of it at a dollar a
+year."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, your Lordship&mdash;or more. It all depends upon how much gold your
+Lordship requires&mdash;" observed the Tailor.</p>
+
+<p>"Seems to me I'd need about four barrels of it," said the Unwiseman, "to
+pay a bill like that."</p>
+
+<p>"We have made robes costing as high as 10,000 pounds," continued the
+Tailor. "But they of course were of unusual magnificence&mdash;and for
+special jubilee celebrations you know."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't any ready made Duke's clothes on hand for less?" inquired
+the Unwiseman. "You know I'm not so awfully particular about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> the fit.
+My figure's a pretty good one, but after all I don't want to thrust it
+on people."</p>
+
+<p>"We do not deal in ready made garments," said the Tailor coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well I guess I'll have to give it up then," said the Unwiseman, "unless
+you know where I could hire a suit, or maybe buy one second-hand from
+some one of your customers who's going to get a new one."</p>
+
+<p>"We do not do that kind of trade, sir," replied the Tailor, haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>"Well say, Mr. Snip&mdash;ain't there anything else a chap can be made beside
+a Duke that ain't quite so dressy?" persisted the old gentleman. "I
+don't want to disappoint Mr. King you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh as for that," observed the Tailor, "there are ordinary peerages,
+baronetcies and the like. His Majesty might make you a Knight," he added
+sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>"That sounds good," said the Unwiseman. "About what would a Knight gown
+cost me&mdash;made out of paper muslin or something that's a wee bit cheaper
+than solid gold and velvet?"</p>
+
+<p>This perfectly innocent and sincerely asked question was never answered,
+for Mr. Snip the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> Tailor made up his mind that the Unwiseman was guying
+him and acted accordingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Jorrocks!" he cried haughtily to the office boy, a fresh looking lad
+who had broken out all over in brass buttons. "Jorrocks, show this 'ere
+party the door."</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Mr. Snip retired and Jorrocks with a wink at Whistlebinkie
+showed the travellers out.</p>
+
+<p>"Well did you ever!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "You couldn't have
+expected any haughtier haughtiness than that from the King himself."</p>
+
+<p>"He was pretty proud," said Mollie, with a smile, for to tell the truth
+she had had all she could do all through the interview to keep from
+giggling.</p>
+
+<p>"He was proud all right, but I didn't notice anything very pretty about
+him," said the Unwiseman. "I'm going to write to the King about both
+those places, because I don't believe he knows what kind of people they
+are with their bogus muffins and hoity-toity manners."</p>
+
+<p>They walked solemnly along the street in the direction of the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't even wait for the mail," said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> Unwiseman. "I'll walk over
+to the Palace now and tell him. That tailor might turn some real
+important American out of his shop in the same way and then there'd be a
+war over it."</p>
+
+<p>"O I wouldn't," said Mollie, who was always inclined toward
+peace-making. "Wait and write him a letter."</p>
+
+<p>"Send-im-a-wireless-smessage," whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Good idea!" said the Unwiseman. "That'll save postage and it'll get to
+the King right away instead of having to be read first by one of his
+Secretaries."</p>
+
+<p>So it happened that that night the Unwiseman climbed up to the roof of
+the hotel and sent the following wireless telegram to the King:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">My dear Mr. King</span>:</p>
+
+<p>That tailor of yours seems to think he's a Grand Duke in disguise.
+In the first place he wanted me to pay over seven thousand dollars
+for a Duke's suit and when I asked him the price of a Knight-gown
+he told Jorrocks to show me the door, which I had already seen and
+hadn't asked to see again. He's a very imputinent tailor and if I
+were you I'd bounce him as we say in America. Furthermore they
+sell bogus muffins up at that specially appointed bake-shop of
+yours. I think you ought to know these things. Nations have gone
+to war for less.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;">Yours trooly,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">The Unwiseman</span>.</span><br />
+</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p>P.S. I've been thinking about that Duke proposition and I don't
+think I care to go into that business. Folks at home haven't as
+much use for 'em as they have for sour apples which you can make
+pie out of. So don't do anything further in the matter.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"There," said the Unwiseman as he tossed this message off into the air.
+"That saves me $8.50 anyhow, and I guess it'll settle the business of
+those bogus muffin people and that high and mighty tailor."</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="VII" id="VII">VII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE UNWISEMAN VISITS THE BRITISH MUSEUM</h3>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie one morning after they had
+been in London for a week. "You look very gloomy this morning. Aren't
+you feeling well?"</p>
+
+<p>"O I'm feeling all right physically," said the Unwiseman. "But I'm just
+chock full of gloom just the same and I want to get away from here as
+soon as I can. Everything in the whole place is bogus."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh Mr. Me! you mustn't say that!" protested Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well if it ain't there's something mighty queer about it anyhow, and I
+just don't like it," said the Unwiseman. "I know they've fooled me right
+and left, and I'm just glad George Washington licked 'em at Bunco Hill
+and pushed 'em off our continent on the double quick."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the particular trouble?" asked Mollie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, in the first place," began the old gentleman, "that King we saw
+the other day wasn't a real king at all&mdash;just a sort of decoy king they
+keep outside the Palace to shoo people off and keep them from bothering
+the real one; and in the second place the Prince of Whales aint' a whale
+at all. He ain't even a shiner. He's just a man. I don't see what right
+they have to fool people the way they do. They wouldn't dare run a
+circus that way at home."</p>
+
+<p>Mollie laughed, and Whistlebinkie squeaked with joy.</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't really expect him to be a whale, did you?" Mollie asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Why of course I did," said the Unwiseman. "Why not? They claim over
+here that Britannia rules the waves, don't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"They certainly do," said Mollie gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Then it's natural to suppose they have a big fish somewhere to
+represent 'em," said the Unwiseman. "The King can't go sloshing around
+under the ocean saying howdido to porpoises and shad and fellers like
+that. It's too wet and he'd catch his death of cold, so I naturally
+thought the Prince of Whales looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> after that end of the business, and
+now I find he's not even a sardine. It's perfectly disgusting."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew-he-wasn't-a-fish," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well you always were smarter than anybody else," growled the Unwiseman.
+"You know a Roc's egg isn't a pebble without anybody telling you I
+guess. You were born with the multiplication table in your hat, but as
+for me I'm glad I've got something to learn. I guess carrying so much
+real live information around in your hat is what makes you squeak so."</p>
+
+<p>The old gentleman paused a moment and then he went on again.</p>
+
+<p>"What I'm worrying most about is that mock king," he said. "Here I've
+gone and invited him over to America, and offered to present him with
+the freedom of my kitchen stove and introduce him to my burgular.
+Suppose he comes? What on earth am I going to do? I can't introduce him
+as the real king, and if I pass him off for a bogus king everybody'll
+laugh at me, and accuse me of bringing my burgular into bad company."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How did you find it out?" asked Mollie sadly, for she had already
+written home to her friends giving them a full account of their
+reception by his majesty.</p>
+
+<p>"Why I went up to the Palace this morning to see why he hadn't answered
+my letter and this time there was another man there, wearing the same
+suit of clothes, bear-skin hat, red jacket and all," explained the
+Unwiseman. "I was just flabbergasted and then it flashed over me all of
+a sudden that there might be a big conspiracy on hand to kidnap the real
+king and put his enemies on the throne. It was all so plain. Certainly
+no king would let anybody else wear his clothes, so this chap must have
+stolen them and was trying to pass himself off for Edward S. King
+himself."</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy!" cried Mollie. "What did you do? Call for help?"</p>
+
+<p>"No sirree&mdash;I mean no ma'am!" returned the Unwiseman. "That wouldn't
+help matters any. I ran down the street to a telephone office and rang
+up the palace. I told 'em the king had been kidnapped and that a bogus
+king was paradin' up and down in front of the Palace with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> royal
+robes on. I liked that first king so much I couldn't bear to think of
+his lyin' off somewhere in a dungeon-cell waiting to have his head
+chopped off. And what do you suppose happened? Instead of arresting the
+mock king they wanted to arrest me, and I think they would have if a
+nice old gentleman in a high hat and a frock coat like mine, only newer,
+hadn't driven up at that minute, bowing to everybody, and entered the
+Palace yard with the whole crowd giving him three cheers. Then what do
+you suppose? They tried to pass <i>him</i> off on me as the <i>real</i> king&mdash;why
+he was plainer than those muffins and looked for all the world like a
+good natured life insurance agent over home."</p>
+
+<p>"And they didn't arrest you?" asked Mollie, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed," laughed the Unwiseman. "I had my carpet-bag along and when
+the pleeceman wasn't looking I jumped into it and waited till they'd all
+gone. Of course they couldn't find me. I don't believe they've got any
+king over here at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll never be a Duke?" said Whistlebinkie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No sirree!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "Not while I know how to say no.
+If they offer it to me I'll buy a megaphone to say no through so's
+they'll be sure to hear it. Then there's that other wicked story about
+London Bridge falling down. I heard some youngsters down there by the
+River announcing the fact and I nearly ran my legs off trying to get
+there in time to see it fall and when I arrived it not only wasn't
+falling down but was just ram-jam full of omnibuses and cabs and trucks.
+Really I never knew anybody anywhere who could tell as many fibs in a
+minute as these people over here can."</p>
+
+<p>"Well never mind, Mr. Me," said Mollie, soothingly. "Perhaps things have
+gone a little wrong with you, and I don't blame you for feeling badly
+about the King, but there are other things here that are very
+interesting. Come with Whistlebinkie and me to the British Museum and
+see the Mummies."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh!" retorted the Unwiseman. "I'd rather see a basket of figs."</p>
+
+<p>"You never can tell," persisted Mollie. "They may turn out to be the
+most interesting things in all the world."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I can tell," said the Unwiseman. "I've already seen 'em and they
+haven't as much conversation as a fried oyster. I went down there
+yesterday and spent two hours with 'em, and a more unapproachable lot
+you never saw in your life. I was just as polite to 'em as I knew how to
+be. Asked 'em how they liked the British climate. Told 'em long stories
+of my house at home. Invited a lot of 'em to come over and meet my
+burgular just as I did the King and not a one of 'em even so much as
+thanked me. They just stood off there in their glass cases and acted as
+if they never saw me, and if they did, hadn't the slightest desire to
+see me again. You don't catch me calling on them a second time."</p>
+
+<p>"But there are other things in the Museum, aren't there?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman's gloom disappeared for a moment in a loud burst of
+laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Such a collection of odds and ends," he cried, with a sarcastic shake
+of his head. "I never saw so much broken crockery in all my life. It
+looks to me as if they'd bought up all the old broken china in the
+world. There are tea-pots<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> without nozzles by the thousand. Old tin
+cans, all rusted up and with dents in 'em from everywhere. Cracked
+plates by the million, and no end of water-pitchers with the handles
+broken off, and chipped vases and goodness knows what all. And they call
+that a museum! Just you give me a half a dozen bricks and a crockery
+shop over in America and in five minutes I'll make that British Museum
+stuff look like a sixpence. When I saw it first, I was pretty mad to
+think I'd taken the trouble to go and look at it, and then as I went on
+and couldn't find a whole tea-cup in the entire outfit, and saw people
+with catalogues in their hands saying how wonderful everything was, I
+just had to sit down on the floor and roar with laughter."</p>
+
+<p>"But the statuary, Mr. Me," said Mollie. "That was pretty fine I guess,
+wasn't it? I've heard it's a splendid collection."</p>
+
+<p>"Worse than the crockery," laughed the Unwiseman. "There's hardly a
+statue in the whole place that isn't broken. Seems to me they're the
+most careless lot of people over here with their museums. Half the
+statues didn't have any heads on 'em. A good quarter of them had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> busted
+arms and legs, and on one of 'em there wasn't anything left but a pair
+of shoulder blades and half a wing sticking out at the back. It looked
+more like a quarry than a museum to me, and in a mighty bad state of
+repair even for a quarry. That was where they put me out," the old
+gentleman added.</p>
+
+<p>"Put you out?" cried Mollie. "Oh Mr. Me&mdash;you don't mean to say they
+actually put you out of The British Museum?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do indeed," said the Unwiseman with a broad grin on his face. "They
+just grabbed me by my collar and hustled me along the floor to the great
+door and dejected me just as if I didn't have any more feeling than
+their old statues. It's a wonder the way I landed I wasn't as badly
+busted up as they are."</p>
+
+<p>"But what for? You were not misbehaving yourself, were you?" asked
+Mollie, very much disturbed over this latest news.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," returned the Unwiseman. "Quite the contrary opposite. I
+was trying to help them. I came across the great big statue of some
+Greek chap&mdash;I've forgotten his name&mdash;something like Hippopotomes, or
+something of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> the sort&mdash;standing up on a high pedestal, with a sign,</p>
+
+<h4>"HANDS OFF</h4>
+
+<p>"hanging down underneath it. When I looked at it I saw at once that it
+not only had its hands off, but was minus a nose, two ears, one
+under-lip and a right leg, so I took out my pencil and wrote underneath
+the words Hands Off:</p>
+
+<h4>"LIKEWISE ONE NOZE</h4>
+
+<h4>ONE PARE OF EARS</h4>
+
+<h4>A LEG AND ONE LIPP</h4>
+
+<p>"It seemed to me the sign should ought to be made complete, but I guess
+they thought different, because I'd hardly finished the second P on lip
+when whizz bang, a lot of attendants came rushing up to me and the first
+thing I knew I was out on the street rubbing the back of my head and
+wondering what hit me."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor old chap!" said Mollie sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Guess-you-wisht-you-was-mader-ubber-like-me!" whistled Whistlebinkie
+trying hard to repress his glee.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" demanded the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"I-guess-you-wished-you-were-made-of-rubber-like-me!" explained
+Whistlebinkie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Never in this world," retorted the Unwiseman scornfully. "If I'd been
+made of rubber like you I'd have bounced up and down two or three times
+instead of once, and I'm not so fond of hitting the sidewalk with myself
+as all that. But I didn't mind. I was glad to get out. I was so afraid
+all the time somebody'd come along and accuse me of breaking their old
+things that it was a real relief to find myself out of doors and nothing
+broken that didn't belong to me."</p>
+
+<p>"They didn't break any of your poor old bones, did they?" asked Mollie,
+taking the Unwiseman's hand affectionately in her own.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;worse luck&mdash;they did worse than that," said the old gentleman
+growing very solemn again. "They broke that bottle of my native land
+that I always carry in my coat-tail pocket and loosened the cork in my
+fog bottle in the other, so that now I haven't more than a pinch of my
+native land with me to keep me from being homesick, and all of the fog I
+was saving up for my collection has escaped. But I don't care. I don't
+believe it was real fog, but just a mixture of soot and steam they're
+trying to pass off for the real thing. Bogus like everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> else, and
+as for my native land, I've got enough to last me until I get home if
+I'm careful of it. The only thing I'm afraid of is that in scooping what
+I could of it up off the sidewalk I may have mixed a little British soil
+in with it. I'd hate to have that happen because just at present British
+soil isn't very popular with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe it's bogus too," snickered Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"So much the better," said the Unwiseman. "If it ain't real I can manage
+to stand it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you don't think much of the British Museum?" said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well it ain't my style," said the Unwiseman, shaking his head
+vigorously. "But there was one thing that pleased me very much about
+it," the old man went on, his eye lighting with real pleasure and his
+voice trembling with patriotic pride, "and that's some of the things
+they didn't have in it. It was full of things the British have captured
+in Greece and Italy and Africa and pretty nearly everywhere
+else&mdash;mummies from Egypt, pieces of public libraries from Athens,
+second-story windows from Rome, and little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> dabs of architecture from
+all over the map except the United States. That made me laugh. They may
+have had Cleopatra's mummy there, but I didn't notice any dried up
+specimens of the Decalculation of Independence lying around in any of
+their old glass cases. They had a whole side wall out of some Roman
+capitol building perched up on a big wooden platform, but I didn't
+notice any domes from the Capitol at Washington or back piazzas from the
+White House on exhibition. There was a lot of busted old statuary from
+Greece all over the place, but nary a statue of Liberty from New York
+harbor, or figger of Andrew Jackson from Philadelphia, or bust of Ralph
+Waldo Longfellow from Boston Common, sitting up there among their
+trophies&mdash;only things hooked from the little fellers, and dug up from
+places like Pompey-two-eyes where people have been dead so long they
+really couldn't watch out for their property. It don't take a very
+glorious conqueror to run off with things belonging to people they can
+lick with one hand, and it pleased me so when I couldn't find even a
+finger-post, or a drug-store placard, or a three dollar shoe store sign
+from America<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> in the whole collection that my chest stuck out like a
+pouter pigeon's and bursted my shirt-studs right in two. They'd have had
+a lump chipped off Independence Hall at Philadelphia, or a couple of
+chunks of Bunco Hill, or a sliver off the Washington Monument there all
+right if they could have got away with it, but they couldn't, and I tell
+you I wanted to climb right up top of the roof and sing Yankee Doodle
+and crow like a rooster the minute I noticed it, I felt so good."</p>
+
+<p>"Three cheers for us," roared Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the way to talk, Fizzledinkie," cried the old gentleman
+gleefully, and grasping Whistlebinkie by the hand he marched up and down
+Mollie's room singing the Star Spangled Banner&mdash;the Unwiseman in his
+excitement called it the Star Spangled Banana&mdash;and Columbia the Gem of
+the Ocean at the top of his lungs, and Mollie was soon so thrilled that
+she too joined in.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Mollie, when the patriotic ardor of her two companions had
+died down a little. "What are you going to do, Mr. Me? We've got to stay
+here two days more. We don't start for Paris until Saturday."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"O don't bother about me," said the old man pleasantly. "I've got plenty
+to do. I've bought a book called 'French in Five Lessons' and I'm going
+to retire to my carpet-bag until you people are ready to start for
+France. I've figured it out that I can read that book through in two
+days if I don't waste too much of my time eating and sleeping and
+calling on kings and queens and trying to buy duke's clothes for $8.50,
+and snooping around British Museums and pricing specially appointed
+royal muffins, so that by the time you are ready to start for Paris I'll
+be in shape to go along. I don't think it's wise to go into a country
+where they speak another language without knowing just a little about
+it, and if 'French in Five Lessons' is what it ought to be you'll think
+I'm another Joan of Ark when I come out of that carpet-bag."</p>
+
+<p>And so the queer old gentleman climbed into his carpet-bag, which Mollie
+placed for him over near the window where the light was better and
+settled down comfortably to read his new book, "French in Five Lessons."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad he's going to stay in there," said Whistlebinkie, as he and
+Mollie started out for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> a walk in Hyde Park. "Because I wouldn't be a
+bit surprised after all he's told us if the pleese were looking for
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither should I," said Mollie. "If what he says about the British
+Museum is true and they really haven't any things from the United States
+in there, there's nothing they'd like better than to capture an American
+and put him up in a glass case along with those mummies."</p>
+
+<p>All of which seemed to prove that for once the Unwiseman was a very wise
+old person.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII">VIII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE UNWISEMAN'S FRENCH</h3>
+
+<p>The following two days passed very slowly for poor Mollie. It wasn't
+that she was not interested in the wonders of the historic Tower which
+she visited and where she saw all the crown jewels, a lot of dungeons
+and a splendid collection of armor and rare objects connected with
+English history; nor in the large number of other things to be seen in
+and about London from Westminster Abbey to Hampton Court and the Thames,
+but that she was lonesome without the Unwiseman. Both she and
+Whistlebinkie had approached the carpet-bag wherein the old gentleman
+lay hidden several times, and had begged him to come out and join them
+in their wanderings, but he not only wouldn't come out, but would not
+answer them. Possibly he did not hear when they called him, possibly he
+was too deeply taken up by his study of French to bother about anything
+else&mdash;whatever it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> that caused it, he was as silent as though he
+were deaf and dumb.</p>
+
+<p>"Less-sopen-thbag," suggested Whistlebinkie.
+"I-don'-bleeve-hes-sinthera-tall."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes he's in there," said Mollie. "I've heard him squeak two or three
+times."</p>
+
+<p>"Waddeesay?" said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" demanded Mollie, with a slight frown.</p>
+
+<p>"What-did-he-say?" asked Whistlebinkie, more carefully.</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't quite make out," said Mollie. "Sounded like a little pig
+squeaking."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess it was-sfrench," observed Whistlebinkie with a broad grin.
+"Maybe he was saying Wee-wee-wee. That's what little pigs say, and
+Frenchmen too&mdash;I've heard 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"Very likely," said Mollie. "I don't know what wee-wee-wee means in
+little pig-talk, but over in Paris it means, 'O yes indeed, you're
+perfectly right about that.'"</p>
+
+<p>"He'll never be able to learn French," laughed Whistlebinkie. "That is
+not so that he can speak it. Do you think he will?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I'm anxious to see him for,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> said Mollie. "I'm just crazy
+to find out how he is getting along."</p>
+
+<p>But all their efforts to get at the old gentleman were, as I have
+already said, unavailing. They knocked on the bag, and whispered and
+hinted and tried every way to draw him out but it was not until the
+little party was half way across the British Channel, on their way to
+France, that the Unwiseman spoke. Then he cried from the depths of the
+carpet bag:</p>
+
+<p>"Hi there&mdash;you people outside, what's going on out there, an
+earthquake?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whatid-i-tellu'" whistled Whistlebinkie. "That ain't French.
+Thass-singlish."</p>
+
+<p>"Hallo-outside ahoy!" came the Unwiseman's voice again. "Slidyvoo la
+slide sur le top de cette carpet-bag ici and let me out!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's French!" cried Mollie clapping her hands ecstatically together.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I understand French too!" said Whistlebinkie proudly, "because I
+know what he wants. He wants to get out."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want to come out, Mr. Unwiseman?" said Mollie bending over the
+carpet-bag, and whispering through the lock.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Wee-wee-wee," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"More-pig-talk," laughed Whistlebinkie. "He's the little pig that went
+to market."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;it was the little pig that stayed at home that said wee, wee, wee
+all day long," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Je desire to be lettyd out pretty quick if there's un grand big
+earthquake going on," cried the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>Mollie slid the nickeled latch on the top of the carpet-bag along and in
+a moment it flew open.</p>
+
+<p>"Kesserkersayker what's going on out ici?" demanded the Unwiseman, as he
+popped out of the bag. "Je ne jammy knew such a lot of motiong. London
+Bridge ain't falling down again, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mollie. "We're on the boat crossing the British Channel."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;that's it eh?" said the Unwiseman gazing about him anxiously, and
+looking rather pale, Mollie thought. "Well I thought it was queer. When
+I went to sleep last night everything was as still as Christmas, and
+when I waked up it was movier than a small boy in a candy store. So
+we're on the ocean again eh?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly," said Mollie. "We're on what they call the Channel."</p>
+
+<p>"Seems to me the waves are just as big as they are on the ocean, and the
+water just as wet," said the Unwiseman, as the ship rose and fell with
+the tremendous swell of the sea, thereby adding much to his uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but it isn't so wide," explained Mollie. "It isn't more than
+thirty miles across."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I don't see why they don't build a bridge over it," said the
+Unwiseman. "This business of a little bit of a piece of water putting on
+airs like an ocean ought to be put a stop to. This motion has really
+very much unsettled&mdash;my French. I feel so queer that I can't remember
+even what <i>la</i> means, and as for <i>kesserkersay</i>, I've forgotten if it's
+a horse hair sofa or a pair of brass andirons, and I had it all in my
+head not an hour ago. O&mdash;d-dud-dear!"</p>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman plunged headlong into his carpet-bag again and pulled the
+top of it to with a snap.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh my, O me!" he groaned from its depths. "O what a wicked channel to
+behave this way. Mollie&mdash;Moll-lie&mdash;O Mollie I say."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Far from it&mdash;very unwell," groaned the Unwiseman. "Will you be good
+enough to ask the cook for a little salad oil?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy," cried Mollie. "You don't want to mix a salad now do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness, no!" moaned the Unwiseman. "I want you to pour it on those
+waves and sort of clam them down and then, if you don't mind, take the
+carpet-bag&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"And chuck it overboard," groaned the Unwiseman. "I&mdash;I don't feel as if
+I cared ever to hear the dinner-bell again."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Unwiseman! He was suffering the usual fate of those who cross the
+British Channel, which behaves itself at times as if it really did have
+an idea that it was a great big ocean and had an ocean's work to do. But
+fortunately this uneasy body of water is not very wide, and it was not
+long before the travellers landed safe and sound on the solid shores of
+France, none the worse for their uncomfortable trip.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you were wise not to throw me overboard after all," said the
+Unwiseman, as he came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> out of the carpet-bag at Calais. "I feel as fine
+as ever now and my lost French has returned."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to hear some," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," replied the Unwiseman carelessly. "Go ahead and ask me a
+question and I'll answer it in French."</p>
+
+<p>"Hm! Let me see," said Mollie wondering how to begin. "Have you had
+breakfast?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wee Munsieur, j'ay le pain," replied the Unwiseman gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"What does that mean?" asked Mollie, puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"He says he has a pain," said Whistlebinkie with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! Bosh&mdash;nothing of the sort," retorted the Unwiseman. "Pain is
+French for bread. When I say 'j'ay le pain' I mean that I've got the
+bread."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you the jay?" asked Whistlebinkie with mischief in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Jay in French is I have&mdash;not a bird, stupid," retorted the Unwiseman
+indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Funny way to talk," sniffed Whistlebinkie. "I should think pain would
+be a better word for pie, or something else that gives you one."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That's because you don't know," said the Unwiseman. "In addition to the
+pain I've had oofs."</p>
+
+<p>"Oooffs?" cried Whistlebinkie. "What on earth are oooffs?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't say oooffs," retorted the Unwiseman, mocking Whistlebinkie's
+accent. "I said oofs. Oofs is French for eggs. Chickens lay oofs in
+France. I had two hard boiled oofs, and my pain had burr and sooker on
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Burr and sooker?" asked Mollie, wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"I know what burr means&mdash;it's French for chestnuts," guessed
+Whistlebinkie. "He had chestnuts on his bread."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing of the sort," said the Unwiseman. "Burr is French for butter
+and has nothing to do with chestnuts. Over here in France a lady goes
+into a butter store and also says avvy-voo-doo burr, and the man behind
+the counter says wee, wee, wee, jay-doo-burr. Jay le bonn-burr. That
+means, yes indeed I've got some of the best butter in the market,
+ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"And then what does the lady say?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman's face flushed, and he looked very much embarrassed. It
+always embarrassed the poor old fellow to have to confess that there was
+something he didn't know. Unwisemen as a rule are very sensitive.</p>
+
+<p>"That's as far as the conversation went in my French in Five Lessons,"
+he replied. "And I think it was far enough. For my part I haven't the
+slightest desire to know what the lady said next. Conversation on the
+subject of butter doesn't interest me. She probably asked him how much
+it was a pound, however, if not knowing what she said is going to keep
+you awake nights."</p>
+
+<p>"What's sooker?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Sooker? O that's what the French people call sugar," explained the
+Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh!" ejaculated Whistlebinkie, scornfully. "What's the use of calling
+it sooker? Sooker isn't any easier to say than sugar."</p>
+
+<p>"It's very much like it, isn't it?" said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "They just drop the H out of sugar, and put
+in the K in place of the two Gees. I think myself when two words are so
+much alike as sooker and shoogger it's foolish to make two languages of
+'em."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Tell me something more to eat in French," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Fromidge," said the Unwiseman bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>"Fromidge? What's that!" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheese," said the Unwiseman. "If you want a cheese sandwich all you've
+got to do is to walk into a calf&mdash;calf is French for restaurant&mdash;call
+the waiter and say 'Un sandwich de fromidge, silver plate,' and you'll
+get it if you wait long enough. Silver plate means if you please. The
+French are very polite people."</p>
+
+<p>"But how do you call the waiter?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"You just lean back in a chair and call garkon," said the Unwiseman.
+"That's what the book says, but I've heard Frenchmen in London call it
+gas on. I'm going to stick to the book, because it might turn out to be
+an English waiter and it would be very unpleasant to have him turn the
+gas on every time you called him."</p>
+
+<p>"I should say so," cried Whistlebinkie. "You might get gas fixturated."</p>
+
+<p>"You never would," said the Unwiseman.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Anybody who isn't choked by your conversation could stand all the gas
+fixtures in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care much for cheese, anyhow," said Whistlebinkie. "Is there
+any French for Beef?"</p>
+
+<p>"O wee, wee, wee!" replied the Unwiseman. "Beef is buff in French.
+Donny-moi-de-buff&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Donny-moi-de-buff!" jeered Whistlebinkie, after a roar of laughter.
+"Sounds like baby-talk."</p>
+
+<p>"Well it ain't," returned the Unwiseman severely. "Even Napoleon
+Bonaparte had to talk that way when he wanted beef and I guess the kind
+of talk that was good enough for a great Umpire like him is good enough
+for a rubber squeak like you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you like French do you, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes&mdash;well enough," said the Unwiseman. "Of course I like American
+better, but I don't see any sense in making fun of French the way
+Fizzledinkie does. It's got some queer things about it like calling a
+cat a chat, and a man a homm, and a lady a femm, and a dog a chi-enn,
+but in the main it's a pretty good language as far as I have got in it.
+There are one or two things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> in French that I haven't learned to say
+yet, like 'who left my umbrella out in the rain,' and 'has James
+currycombed the saddle-horse with the black spot on his eye and a
+bob-tail this morning,' and 'was that the plumber or the piano tuner I
+saw coming out of the house of your uncle's brother-in-law yesterday
+afternoon,' but now that I'm pretty familiar with it I'm glad I learned
+it. It is disappointing in some ways, I admit. I've been through French
+in Five Lessons four times now, and I haven't found any conversation in
+it about Kitchen-Stoves, which is going to be very difficult for me when
+I get to Paris and try to explain to people there how fine my
+kitchen-stove is. I'm fond of that old stove, and when these furriners
+begin to talk to me about the grandness of their country, I like to hit
+back with a few remarks about my stove, and I don't just see how I'm
+going to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"What's sky-scraper in French?" demanded Whistlebinkie suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"They don't have sky-scrapers in French," retorted the old gentleman.
+"So your question, like most of the others you ask, is very very
+foolish."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You think you can get along all right then, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie,
+gazing proudly at the old man and marvelling as to the amount of study
+he must have done in two days.</p>
+
+<p>"I can if I can only get people talking the way I want 'em to," replied
+the Unwiseman. "I've really learned a lot of very polite conversation.
+For instance something like this:</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">"Do you wish to go anywhere?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">No I do not wish to go anywhere.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Why don't you wish to go somewhere?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Because I've been everywhere.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">You must have seen much.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">No I have seen nothing.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Is not that rather strange?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">No it is rather natural.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Why?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Because to go everywhere one must travel too rapidly to see anything."</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>"That you see," the Unwiseman went on, "goes very well at a five o'clock
+tea. The only trouble would be to get it started, but if I once got it
+going right, why I could rattle it off in French as easy as falling off
+a log."</p>
+
+<p>"Smity interesting conversation," said Whistlebinkie really delighted.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad you find it so," replied the Unwiseman.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's far more interesting in French than it is in English."</p>
+
+<p>"Givus-smore," whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Give us what?" demanded the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Some-more," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well here is a very nice bit that I can do if somebody gives me the
+chance," said the Unwiseman. "It begins:</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">"Lend me your silver backed hand-glass.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Certainly. Who is that singing in the drawing room?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">It is my daughter.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">It is long since I heard anyone sing so well.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">She has been taking lessons only two weeks.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Does she practice on the phonograph or on her Aunt's upright piano?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">On neither. She accompanies herself upon the banjo.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">I think she sings almost as well as Miss S.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Miss S. has studied for three weeks but Marietta has a better ear.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">What is your wife's grandmother knitting?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">A pair of ear-tabs for my nephew Jacques.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ah&mdash;then your nephew Jacques too has an ear?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">My nephew Jacques has two ears.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">What a musical family!"</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>"Spul-lendid!" cried Whistlebinkie rapturously. "When do you think you
+can use that?"</p>
+
+<p>"O I may be invited off to a country house to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> spend a week, somewhere
+outside of Paris," said the Unwiseman, "and if I am, and the chance
+comes up for me to hold that nice little chat with my host, why it will
+make me very popular with everybody. People like to have you take an
+interest in their children, especially when they are musical. Then I
+have learned this to get off at the breakfast-table to my hostess:</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">"I have slept well. I have two mattresses and a spring mattress.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Will you have another pillow?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">No thank you I have a comfortable bolster.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Is one blanket sufficient for you?</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Yes, but I would like some wax candles and a box of matches."</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>"That will show her that I appreciate all the comforts of her beautiful
+household, and at the same time feel so much at home that I am not
+afraid to ask for something else that I happen to want. The thing that
+worries me a little about the last is that there might be an electric
+light in the room, so that asking for a wax candle and a box of matches
+would sound foolish. I gather from the lesson, however, that it is
+customary in France to ask for wax candles and a box of matches, so I'm
+going to do it anyhow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> There's nothing like following the customs of
+the natives when you can."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to hear you say some of that in French," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh you wouldn't understand it, Whistlebinkie," said the Unwiseman.
+"Still I don't mind."</p>
+
+<p>And the old man rattled off the following:</p>
+
+<p>"Avvy-voo kelker chose ah me dire? Avvy-voo bien dormy la nooit
+dernyere? Savvy-voo kieskersayker cetum la avec le nez rouge?
+Kervooly-voo-too-der-sweet-silver-plate-o-see-le-mem. Donny-moi des
+boogies et des alloomettes avec burr et sooker en tasse. La Voila.
+Kerpensy-voo de cette comedie mon cher mounseer de Whistlebinkie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy!" cried Whistlebinkie. "What a language! I don't believe I <i>ever</i>
+could learn to speak it."</p>
+
+<p>"You learn to speak it, Whistlebinkie?" laughed the old gentleman. "You?
+Well I guess not. I don't believe you could even learn to squeak it."</p>
+
+<p>With which observation the Unwiseman hopped back into his carpet-bag,
+for the conductor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> of the train was seen coming up the platform of the
+railway station, and the old gentleman as usual was travelling without a
+ticket.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather be caught by an English conductor if I'm going to be caught
+at all," he remarked after the train had started and he was safe. "For I
+find in looking it over that all my talk in French is polite
+conversation, and I don't think there'd be much chance for that in a row
+with a conductor over a missing railway ticket."</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="IX" id="IX">IX.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>IN PARIS</h3>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman was up bright and early the next morning. Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie had barely got their eyes open when he came knocking at
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Better get up, Mollie," he called in. "It's fine weather and I'm going
+to call on the Umpire. The chances are that on a beautiful day like this
+he'll have a parade and I wouldn't miss it for a farm."</p>
+
+<p>"What Umpire are you talking about?" Mollie replied, opening the door on
+a crack.</p>
+
+<p>"Why Napoleon Bonaparte," said the Unwiseman. "Didn't you ever hear of
+him? He's the man that came up here from Corsica and picked the crown up
+on the street where the king had dropped it by mistake, and put it on
+his own head and made people think he was the whole roil family. He was
+smart enough for an American and I want to tell him so."</p>
+
+<p>"Why he's dead," said Mollie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What?" cried the Unwiseman. "Umpire Napoleon dead? Why&mdash;when did that
+happen? I didn't see anything about it in the newspapers."</p>
+
+<p>"He died a long time ago," answered Mollie. "Before I was born, I
+guess."</p>
+
+<p>"Well I never!" ejaculated the Unwiseman, his face clouding over. "That
+book I read on the History of France didn't say anything about his being
+dead&mdash;that is, not as far as I got in it. Last time I heard of him he
+was starting out for Russia to give the Czar a licking. I supposed he
+thought it was a good time to do it after the Japs had started the ball
+a-rolling. Are you sure about that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty sure," said Mollie. "I don't know very much about French
+history, but I'm almost certain he's dead."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going down stairs to ask at the office," said the Unwiseman.
+"They'll probably know all about it."</p>
+
+<p>So the little old gentleman pattered down the hall to the elevator and
+went to the office to inquire as to the fate of the Emperor Napoleon. In
+five minutes he was back again.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Mollie," he whispered through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> key-hole. "I wish you'd ask
+your father about the Umpire. I can't seem to find out anything about
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't they know at the office?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh I guess they know all right," said the Unwiseman, "but there's a
+hitch somewhere in my getting the information. Far as I can find out
+these people over here don't understand their own language. I asked 'em
+in French, like this: 'Mounseer le Umpire, est il mort?' And they told
+me he was <i>no</i> more. Now whether <i>no</i> more means that he is not mort, or
+<i>is</i> mort, depends on what language the man who told me was speaking. If
+he was speaking French he's not dead. If he was speaking English he <i>is</i>
+dead, and there you are. It's awfully mixed up."</p>
+
+<p>"I-guess-seez-ded-orright," whistled Whistlebinkie. "He was dead last
+time I heard of him, and I guess when they're dead once there dead for
+good."</p>
+
+<p>"Well you never can tell," said the Unwiseman. "He was a very great man,
+the Umpire Napoleon was, and they might have only thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> he was dead
+while he was playing foxy to see what the newspapers would say about
+him."</p>
+
+<p>So Mollie asked her father and to the intense regret of everybody it
+turned out that the great Emperor had been dead for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a very great disappointment to me," sighed the Unwiseman, when
+Mollie conveyed the sad news to him. "The minute I knew we were coming
+to France I began to read up about the country, and Napoleon Bonaparte
+was one of the things I came all the way over to see. Are the Boys de
+Bologna dead too?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never heard of them," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel particularly upset about the Umpire," continued the Unwiseman,
+"because I sat up almost all last night getting up some polite
+conversation to be held with him this morning. I found just the thing
+for it in my book."</p>
+
+<p>"Howdit-go?" whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Like this," said the Unwiseman. "I was going to begin with:</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">"'Shall you buy a horse?'</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>"And the Umpire was to say:</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">"'I should like to buy a horse from you.'</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+<p>"And then we were to continue with:</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">"'I have no horse but I will sell you my dog.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'You are wrong; dogs are such faithful creatures.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'But my wife prefers cats&mdash;&mdash;'"</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>"Pooh!" cried Whistlebinkie. "You haven't got any wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what of it?" retorted the Unwiseman. "The Umpire wouldn't know
+that, and besides she <i>would</i> prefer cats if I had one. You should not
+interrupt conversation when other people are talking, Whistlebinkie,
+especially when it's polite conversation."</p>
+
+<p>"Orright-I-pol-gize," whistled Whistlebinkie. "Go on with the rest of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"I was then going to say:" continued the Unwiseman,</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">"'Will you go out this afternoon?'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'I should like to go out this afternoon.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'Should you remain here if your mother were here?'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'Yes I should remain here even if my aunt were here.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'Had you remained here I should not have gone out.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'I shall have finished when you come.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'As soon as you have received your money come to see me.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'I do not know yet whether we shall leave tomorrow.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'I should have been afraid had you not been with me.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'So long.'</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">'To the river.'"</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
+<p>"To the river?" asked Whistlebinkie. "What does that mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is French for, 'I hope we shall meet again.' Au river is the polite
+way of saying, 'good-bye for a little while.' And to think that after
+having sat up until five o'clock this morning learning all that by heart
+I should find that the man I was going to say it to has been dead
+for&mdash;how many years, Mollie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh nearly a hundred years," said the little girl.</p>
+
+<p>"No wonder it wasn't in the papers before I left home," said the
+Unwiseman. "Oh well, never mind&mdash;&mdash;."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you can swing that talk around so as to fit some French
+Robert," suggested Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"The Police are not Roberts over here," said the Unwiseman. "In France
+they are Johns&mdash;John Darms is what they call the pleece in this country,
+and I never should think of addressing a conversation designed for an
+Umpire to the plebean ear of a mere John."</p>
+
+<p>"Well I think it was pretty poor conversation," said Whistlebinkie. "And
+I guess it's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> lucky for you the Umpire is dead. All that stuff didn't
+mean anything."</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't seem to mean much in English," said the Unwiseman, "but it
+must mean something in French, because if it didn't the man who wrote
+French in Five Lessons wouldn't have considered it important enough to
+print. Just because you don't like a thing, or don't happen to
+understand it, isn't any reason for believing that the Umpire would not
+find it extremely interesting. I shan't waste it on a John anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>An hour or two later when Mollie had breakfasted the Unwiseman presented
+himself again.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very much afraid I'm not going to like this place any better than I
+did London," he said. "The English people, even if they do drop their
+aitches all over everywhere, understand their own language, which is
+more than these Frenchmen do. I have tried my French on half a dozen of
+them and there wasn't one of 'em that looked as if he knew what I was
+talking about."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you say to them?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 355px;"><a name="ILL_007" id="ILL_007"></a>
+<img src="images/ill_007.jpg" width="355" height="500" alt="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;HAVE YOU SEEN THE ORMOLU CLOCK OF YOUR SISTER&#39;S MUSIC
+TEACHER?&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Well I went up to a cabman and remarked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> just as the book put it, 'how
+is the sister of your mother's uncle,' and he acted as if I'd hit him
+with a brick," said the Unwiseman. "Then I stopped a bright looking boy
+out on the rue and said to him, 'have you seen the ormolu clock of your
+sister's music teacher,' to which he should have replied, 'no I have not
+seen the ormolu clock of my sister's music teacher, but the candle-stick
+of the wife of the butcher of my cousin's niece is on the mantel-piece,'
+but all he did was to stick out his tongue at me and laugh."</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to have spoken to one of the John Darms," laughed
+Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I did," said the Unwiseman. "I stopped one outside the door and asked
+him, 'is your grandfather still alive?' The book says the answer to that
+is 'yes, and my grandmother also,' whereupon I should ask, 'how many
+grandchildren has your grandfather?' But I didn't get beyond the first
+question. Instead of telling me that his grandfather was living, and his
+grandmother also, he said something about Ally Voozon, a person of whom
+I never heard and who is not mentioned in the book at all. I wish I
+was back somewhere where they speak a language somebody can understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you had your breakfast?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>A deep frown came upon the face of the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;" he answered shortly. "I&mdash;er&mdash;I went to get some but they tried to
+cheat me," he added. "There was a sign in a window announcing French
+Tabble d'hotes. I thought it was some new kind of a breakfast food like
+cracked wheat, or oat-meal flakes, so I stopped in and asked for a small
+box of it, and they tried to make me believe it was a meal of four or
+five courses, with soup and fish and a lot of other things thrown in,
+that had to be eaten on the premises. I wished for once that I knew some
+French conversation that wasn't polite to tell 'em what I thought of
+'em. I can imagine a lot of queer things, but when everybody tells me
+that oats are soup and fish and olives and ice-cream and several other
+things to boot, even in French, why I just don't believe it, that's all.
+What's more I can prove that oats are oats over here because I saw a
+cab-horse eating some. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a><br /><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> may not know beans but I know oats, and I told
+'em so. Then the garkon&mdash;I know why some people call these French
+waiters gason now, they talk so much&mdash;the garkon said I could order <i>a
+la carte</i>, and I told him I guessed I could if I wanted to, but until I
+was reduced to a point where I had to eat out of a wagon I wouldn't ask
+his permission."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-for-you!" whistled Whistlebinkie, clapping the Unwiseman on the
+back.</p>
+
+<p>"When a man wants five cents worth of oats it's a regular swindle to try
+to ram forty cents worth of dinner down his throat, especially at
+breakfast time, and I for one just won't have it," said the Unwiseman.
+"By the way, I wouldn't eat any fish over here if I were you, Mollie,"
+he went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" asked the little girl. "Isn't it fresh?"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't that," said the Unwiseman. "It's because over here it's
+poison."</p>
+
+<p>"No!" cried Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," said the Unwiseman. "They admit it themselves. Just look here."</p>
+
+<p>The old gentleman opened his book on French<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> in Five Lessons, and turned
+to the back pages where English words found their French equivalents.</p>
+
+<p>"See that?" he observed, pointing to the words. "Fish&mdash;poison.
+P-O-I-double S-O-N. 'Taint spelled right, but that's what it says."</p>
+
+<p>"It certainly does," said Mollie, very much surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Smity good thing you had that book or you might have been poisoned,"
+said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe your father knows about that, does he, Mollie?" asked
+the old man anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid not," said Mollie. "Leastways, he hasn't said anything to me
+about it, and I'm pretty sure if he'd known it he would have told me not
+to eat any."</p>
+
+<p>"Well you tell him with my compliments," said the Unwiseman. "I like
+your father and I'd hate to have anything happen to him that I could
+prevent. I'm going up the rue now to the Loover to see the pictures."</p>
+
+<p>"Up the what?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Up the rue," said the Unwiseman. "That's what these foolish people over
+here call a street.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> I'm going up the street. There's a guide down
+stairs who says he'll take me all over Paris in one day for three
+dollars, and we're going to start in ten minutes, after I've had a
+spoonful of my bottled chicken broth and a ginger-snap. Humph! Tabble
+d'hotes&mdash;when I've got a bag full of first class food from New York! I
+tell you, Mollie, this travelling around in furry countries makes a man
+depreciate American things more than ever."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you mean <i>ap</i>preciate," suggested Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"May be I do," returned the Unwiseman. "I mean I like 'em better.
+American oats are better than tabble d'hotes. American beef is better
+than French buff. American butter is better than foreign burr, and while
+their oofs are pretty good, when I eat eggs I want eggs, and not
+something else with a hard-boiled accent on it that twists my tongue out
+of shape. And when people speak a language I like 'em to have one they
+can understand when it's spoken to them like good old Yankamerican."</p>
+
+<p>"Hoorray for-Ramerrica!" cried Whistlebinkie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ditto hic, as Julius Cæsar used to say," roared the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>And the Unwiseman took what was left of his bottleful of their native
+land out of his pocket and the three little travellers cheered it until
+the room fairly echoed with the noise. That night when they had gathered
+together again, the Unwiseman looked very tired.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mollie," he said, "I've seen it all. That guide down stairs
+showed me everything in the place and I'm going to retire to my
+carpet-bag again until you're ready to start for Kayzoozalum&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Swizz-izzer-land," whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Switzerland," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well wherever it is we're going Alp hunting," said the Unwiseman. "I'm
+too tired to say a word like that to-night. My tongue is all out of
+shape anyhow trying to talk French and I'm not going to speak it any
+more. It's not the sort of language I admire&mdash;just full o' nonsense.
+When people call pudding 'poo-dang' and a bird a 'wazzoh' I'm through
+with it. I've seen 8374 miles of pictures; some more busted statuary;
+one cathedral&mdash;I thought a cathedral<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> was some kind of an animal with a
+hairy head and a hump on its back, but it's nothing but a big overgrown
+church&mdash;; Napoleon's tomb&mdash;he is dead after all and France is a
+Republic, as if we didn't have a big enough Republic home without coming
+over here to see another&mdash;; one River Seine, which ain't much bigger
+than the Erie Canal, and not a trout or a snapping turtle in it from
+beginning to end; the Boys de Bologna, which is only a Park, with no
+boys or sausages anywhere about it; the Champs Eliza; an obelisk; and
+about sixteen palaces without a King or an Umpire in the whole lot; and
+I've paid three dollars for it, and I'm satisfied. I'd be better
+satisfied if I'd paid a dollar and a half, but you can't travel for
+nothing, and I regard the extra dollar and fifty cents as well spent
+since I've learned what to do next time."</p>
+
+<p>"Wass-that?" whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay home," said the Unwiseman. "Home's good enough for me and when I
+get there I'm going to stay there. Good night."</p>
+
+<p>And with that the Unwiseman jumped into his carpet-bag and for a week
+nothing more was heard of him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I hope he isn't sick," said Whistlebinkie, at the end of that period.
+"I think we ought to go and find out, don't you, Mollie."</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly do," said Mollie. "I know I should be just stufficated to
+death if I'd spent a week in a carpet-bag."</p>
+
+<p>So they tip-toed up to the side of the carpet-bag and listened. At first
+there was no sound to be heard, and then all of a sudden their fears
+were set completely at rest by the cracked voice of their strange old
+friend singing the following patriotic ballad of his own composition:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"Next time I start out for to travel abroad</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">I'll go where pure English is spoken.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">I'll put on my shoes and go sailing toward</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">The beautiful land of Hoboken.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"No more on that movey old channel I'll sail,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">The sickening waves to be tossed on,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">But do all my travelling later by rail</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And visit that frigid old Boston.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"Nay never again will I step on a ship</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And go as a part of the cargo,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">But when I would travel I'll make my next trip</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Out west to the town of Chicago.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"My sweet carpet-bag, you will never again</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Be called on to cross the Atlantic.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">We'll just buy a ticket and take the first train</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 22em;">To marvellous old Williamantic.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"No French in the future will I ever speak</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">With strange and impossible, answers.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">I'd rather go in for that curious Greek</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">The natives all speak in Arkansas.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"To London and Paris let other folks go</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">I'm utterly cured of the mania.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Hereafter it's me for the glad Ohi-o,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Or down in dear sweet Pennsylvania.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"If any one asks me to cross o'er the sea</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">I'll answer them promptly, "No thanky&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">There's beauty enough all around here for me</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">In this glorious land of the Yankee."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Mollie laughed as the Unwiseman's voice died away.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess he's all right, Whistlebinkie," she said. "Anybody who can sing
+like that can't be very sick."</p>
+
+<p>"No I guess not," said Whistlebinkie. "He seems to have got his tongue
+out of tangle again. I was awfully worried about that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, dear?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Because," said Whistlebinkie, "I was afraid if he didn't he'd begin to
+talk like me and that would be perf'ly awful."</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="X" id="X">X.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE ALPS AT LAST</h3>
+
+<p>When the Unwiseman came out of the carpet-bag again the travellers had
+reached Switzerland. Every effort that Mollie and Whistlebinkie made to
+induce him to come forth and go about Paris with them had wholly failed.</p>
+
+<p>"It's more comfortable in here," he had answered them, "and I've got my
+hands full forgetting all that useless French I learned last week. It's
+very curious how much harder it is to forget French than it is to learn
+it. I've been four days forgetting that wazzoh means bird and that oofs
+is eggs."</p>
+
+<p>"And you haven't forgotten it yet, have you," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"O yes," said the Unwiseman. "I've forgotten it entirely. It
+occasionally occurs to me that it is so when people mention the fact,
+but in the main I am now able to overlook it. I'll be glad when we are
+on our way again, Mollie, because between you and me I think they're a
+lot of frauds here too, just like over in England.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> They've got a statue
+here of a lady named Miss Jones of Ark and I <i>know</i> there wasn't any
+such person on it. Shem and Ham and Japhet and their wives, and Noah,
+and Mrs. Noah were there but no Miss Jones."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe Mrs. Noah or Mrs. Shem or one of the others was Miss Jones before
+she married Mr. Noah or Shem, Ham or Japhet," suggested Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Then they should ought to have said so," said the Unwiseman, "and put
+up the statue to Mrs. Noah or Mrs. Shem or Mrs. Ham or Mrs. Japhet&mdash;but
+they weren't the same person because this Miss Jones got burnt cooking a
+steak and Mrs. Noah and Mrs. Ham and Mrs. Shem and Mrs. Japhet didn't.
+Miss Jones was a great general according to these people and there
+wasn't any military at all in the time of Noah for a lady to be general
+of, so the thing just can't help being a put up job just to deceive us
+Americans into coming over here to see their curiosities and paying
+guides three dollars for leading us to them."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you won't come with us out to Versailles?" asked Mollie very much
+disappointed.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Versailles?" asked the Unwiseman. "What kind of sails are Versailles?
+Some kind of a French cat-boat? If so, none of that for me. I'm not fond
+of sailing."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a town with a beautiful palace in it," explained Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"That settles it," said the Unwiseman. "I'll stay here. I've seen all
+the palaces without any kings in 'em that I need in my business, so you
+can just count me out. I may go out shopping this afternoon and buy an
+air-gun to shoot alps with when we get to&mdash;ha&mdash;hum&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Switzerland," prompted Mollie hurriedly, largely with the desire to
+keep Whistlebinkie from speaking of Swiz-izzer-land.</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely," said the Unwiseman. "If you'd given me time I'd have
+said it myself. I've been practising on that name ever since yesterday
+and I've got so I can say it right five times out of 'leven.
+And I'm learning to yodel too. I have discovered that down
+in&mdash;ha&mdash;hum&mdash;Swztoozalum, when people don't feel like speaking French,
+they yodel, and I think I can get along better in yodeling than I can in
+French. I'm going to try it anyhow. So run along and have a good time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>
+and don't worry about me. I'm having a fine time. Yodeling is really
+lots of fun. Trala-la-lio!"</p>
+
+<p>So Mollie and Whistlebinkie went to Versailles, which by the way is not
+pronounced Ver-sails, but Ver-sai-ee, and left the Unwiseman to his own
+devices. A week later the party arrived at Chamounix, a beautiful little
+Swiss village lying in the valley at the base of Mont Blanc, the most
+famous of all the Alps.</p>
+
+<p>"Looks-slike-a-gray-big-snow-ball," whistled Whistlebinkie, gazing
+admiringly at the wonderful mountain glistening like a huge mass of
+silver in the sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>"It is beautiful," said Mollie. "We must get the Unwiseman out to see
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll call him," said Whistlebinkie eagerly; and the little rubber-doll
+bounded off to the carpet-bag as fast as his legs would carry him.</p>
+
+<p>"Hi there, Mister Me," he called breathlessly through the key-hole.
+"Come out. There's a nalp out in front of the hotel."</p>
+
+<p>"Tra-la-lulio-tra-la-lali-ee," yodeled the cracked little voice from
+within. "Tra-la-la-la-lalio."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Hullo there," cried Whistlebinkie again. "Stop that tra-la-lody-ing and
+hurry out, there's a-nalp in front of the hotel."</p>
+
+<p>"A nalp?" said the Unwiseman popping his head up from the middle of the
+bag for all the world like a Jack-in-the-box. "What's a nalp?"</p>
+
+<p>"A-alp," explained Whistlebinkie, as clearly as he could&mdash;he was so out
+of breath he could hardly squeak, much less speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Really?" cried the Unwiseman, all excitement. "Dear me&mdash;glad you called
+me. Is he loose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," hesitated Whistlebinkie, hardly knowing how to answer,
+"it-ain't-exactly-tied up, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't any danger of its coming into the house and biting people, is
+there?" asked the Unwiseman, rummaging through the carpet-bag for his
+air-gun, which he had purchased in Paris while the others were visiting
+Versailles.</p>
+
+<p>"No," laughed Whistlebinkie. "Tstoo-big."</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy&mdash;it must be a fearful big one," said the Unwiseman. "I hope it's
+muzzled."</p>
+
+<p>Armed with his air-gun, and carrying a long rope with a noose in one end
+over his arm, the Unwiseman started out.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Watcher-gone-'tdo-with-the-lassoo?" panted Whistlebinkie, struggling
+manfully to keep up with his companion.</p>
+
+<p>"That's to tie him up with in case I catch him alive," said the
+Unwiseman, as they emerged from the door of the hotel and stood upon the
+little hotel piazza from which all the new arrivals were gazing at the
+wonderful peak before them, rising over sixteen thousand feet into the
+heavens, and capped forever with a crown of snow and ice.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 359px;"><a name="ILL_008" id="ILL_008"></a>
+<img src="images/ill_008.jpg" width="359" height="500" alt="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;OUT THE WAY THERE!&quot; CRIED THE UNWISEMAN</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Out the way there!" cried the Unwiseman, rushing valiantly through the
+group. "Out the way, and don't talk or even yodel. I must have a steady
+aim, and conversation disturbs my nerves."</p>
+
+<p>The hotel guests all stepped hastily to one side and made room for the
+hero, who on reaching the edge of the piazza stopped short and gazed
+about him with a puzzled look on his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he cried impatiently, "where is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where is what?" asked Mollie, stepping up to the Unwiseman's side and
+putting her hand affectionately on his shoulder.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That Alp?" said the Unwiseman. "Whistlebinkie said there was an alp
+running around the yard and I've come down either to catch him alive or
+shoot him. He hasn't hid under this piazza, has he?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mr. Me," she said. "They couldn't get an Alp under this piazza.
+That's it over there," she added, pointing out Mont Blanc.</p>
+
+<p>"What's it? I don't see anything but a big snow drift," said the
+Unwiseman. "Queer sort of people here&mdash;must be awful lazy not to have
+their snow shoveled off as late as July."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the Alp," explained Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Tra-la-lolly-O!" yodeled the Unwiseman. "Which is yodelese for
+nonsense. That an Alp? Why I thought an Alp was a sort of animal with a
+shaggy fur coat like a bear or a chauffeur, and about the size of a
+rhinoceros."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mollie. "An Alp is a mountain. All that big range of
+mountains with snow and ice on top of them are the Alps. Didn't you know
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman didn't answer, but with a yodel of disgust turned on his
+heel and went back to his carpet-bag.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You aren't mad at me, are you, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie, following meekly
+after.</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed," said the Unwiseman, sadly. "Of course not. It isn't your
+fault if an Alp is a toboggan slide or a skating rink instead of a wild
+animal. It's all my own fault. I was very careless to come over here and
+waste my time to see a lot of snow that ain't any colder or wetter than
+the stuff we have delivered at our front doors at home in winter. I
+should ought to have found out what it was before I came."</p>
+
+<p>"It's very beautiful though as it is," suggested Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," said the Unwiseman. "But I don't have to travel four
+thousand miles to see beautiful things while I have my kitchen-stove
+right there in my own kitchen. Besides I've spent a dollar and twenty
+cents on an air-gun, and sixty cents for a lassoo to hunt Alps with,
+when I might better have bought a snow shovel. <i>That's</i> really what I'm
+mad at. If I'd bought a snow shovel and a pair of ear-tabs I could have
+made some money here offering to shovel the snow off that hill there
+so's somebody could get some pleasure out of it. It would be a lovely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>
+place to go and sit on a warm summer evening if it wasn't for that snow
+and very likely they'd have paid me two or three dollars for fixing it
+up for them."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess it would take you several hours to do it," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"What if it took a week?" retorted the Unwiseman. "As long as they were
+willing to pay for it. But what's the use of talking about it? I haven't
+got a shovel, and I can't shovel the snow off an Alp with an air-gun, so
+that's the end of it."</p>
+
+<p>And for the time being that <i>was</i> the end of it. The Unwiseman very
+properly confined himself to the quiet of the carpet-bag until his wrath
+had entirely disappeared, and after luncheon he turned up cheerily in
+the office of the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's hire a couple of sleds and go coasting," he suggested to Mollie.
+"That Mount Blank looks like a pretty good hill. Whistlebinkie and I can
+pull you up to the top and it will be a fine slide coming back."</p>
+
+<p>But inquiry at the office brought out the extraordinary fact that there
+were no sleds in the place and never had been.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My goodness!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "I never knew such people. I
+don't wonder these Switzers ain't a great nation like us Americans. I
+don't believe any American hotel-keeper would have as much snow as that
+in his back-yard all summer long and not have a regular sled company to
+accommodate guests who wanted to go coasting on it. If they had an Alp
+like that over at Atlantic City they'd build a fence around it, and
+charge ten cents to get inside, where you could hire a colored gentleman
+to haul you up to the top of the hill and guide you down again on the
+return slide."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess they would," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Then they'd turn part of it into an ice quarry," the Unwiseman went on,
+"and sell great huge chunks of ice to people all the year round and put
+the regular ice men out of business. I've half a mind to write home to
+my burgular and tell him here's a chance to earn an honest living as an
+iceman. He could get up a company to come here and buy up that hill and
+just regularly go in for ice-mining. There never was such a chance. If
+people can make money out of coal mines and gold mines and copper
+mines,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> I don't see why they can't do the same thing with ice mines. Why
+don't you speak to your Papa about it, Mollie? He'd make his everlasting
+fortune."</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said Mollie, very much interested in the idea.</p>
+
+<p>"And all that snow up there going to waste too," continued the Unwiseman
+growing enthusiastic over the prospect. "Just think of the millions of
+people who can't get cool in summer over home. Your father could sell
+snow to people in midsummer for six-fifty a ton, and they could shovel
+it into their furnaces and cool off their homes ten or twenty degrees
+all summer long. My goodness&mdash;talk about your billionaires&mdash;here's a
+chance for squillions."</p>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman paced the floor excitedly. The vision of wealth that
+loomed up before his mind's eye was so vast that he could hardly contain
+himself in the face of it.</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't it all melt before he could get it over to America?" asked
+Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should it?" demanded the Unwiseman. "If it don't melt here in
+summer time why should it melt anywhere else? I don't believe snow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> was
+ever disagreeable just for the pleasure of being so."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't it cost a lot to take it over?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Not if the Company owned its own ships," said the Unwiseman. "If the
+Company owned its own ships it could carry it over for nothing."</p>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman was so carried away with the possibilities of his plan
+that for several days he could talk of nothing else, and several times
+Mollie and Whistlebinkie found him working in the writing room of the
+hotel on what he called his Perspectus.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to work out that idea of mine, Mollie," he explained, "so
+that you can show it to your father and maybe he'll take it up, and if
+he does&mdash;well, I'll have a man to exercise my umbrella, a pair of wings
+built on my house where I can put a music room and a library, and have
+my kitchen-stove nickel plated as it deserves to be for having served me
+so faithfully for so many years."</p>
+
+<p>An hour or two later, his face beaming with pleasure, the Unwiseman
+brought Mollie his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> completed "Perspectus" with the request that she
+show it to her father. It read as follows:</p>
+
+<h4>THE SWITZER SNOW AND ICE CO.</h4>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Unwiseman</span>, <i>President</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mr. Mollie J. Whistlebinkie</span>, <i>Vice-President</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A. Burgular</span>, <i>Seketary and Treasurer</i>.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>I. To purchase all right, title, and interest in one first class
+Alp known as Mount Blank, a snow-clad peak located at
+Switzerville, Europe. For further perticulars, see Map if you have
+one handy that is any good and has been prepared by somebody what
+has studied jography before.</p>
+
+<p>II. To orginize the Mount Blank Toboggan Slide and Sled Company
+and build a fence around it for the benefit of the young at ten
+cents ahead, using the surplus snow and ice on Mount Blank for
+this purpose. Midsummer coasting a speciality.</p>
+
+<p>III. To mine ice and to sell the same by the pound, ton, yard, or
+shipload, to Americans at one cent less a pound, ton, yard, or
+shipload, than they are now paying to unscrupulous ice-men at
+home, thereby putting them out of business and bringing ice in
+midsummer within the reach of persons of modest means to keep
+their provisions on, who without it suffer greatly from the heat
+and are sometimes sun-struck.</p>
+
+<p>IV. To gather and sell snow to the American people in summer time
+for the purpose of cooling off their houses by throwing the same
+into the furnace like coal in winter, thereby taking down the
+thermometer two or three inches and making fans unnecessary, and
+killing mosquitoes, flies and other animals that ain't of any use
+and can only live in warm weather.</p>
+
+<p>V. Also to sell a finer quality of snow for use at children's
+parties in the United States of America in July and August<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> where
+snow-ball fights are not now possible owing to the extreme
+tenderness of the snow at present provided by the American climate
+which causes it to melt along about the end of March and disappear
+entirely before the beginning of May.</p>
+
+<p>VI. Also to sell snow at redoosed rates to people at Christmas
+Time when they don't always have it as they should ought to have
+if Christmas is to look anything like the real thing and give boys
+and girls a chance to try their new sleds and see if they are as
+good as they are cracked up to be instead of having to be put away
+as they sometimes are until February and even then it don't always
+last.</p>
+
+<p>This Company has already been formed by Mr. Thomas S. Me, better
+known as the Unwiseman, who is hereby elected President thereof,
+with a capital of ten million dollars of which three dollars has
+already been paid in to Mr. Me as temporary treasurer by himself
+in real money which may be seen upon application as a guarantee of
+good faith. The remaining nine million nine hundred and
+ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven dollars worth
+is offered to the public at one dollar a share payable in any kind
+of money that will circulate freely, one half of which will be
+used as profits for the next five years while the Company is
+getting used to its new business, and the rest will be spent under
+the direction of the President as he sees fit, it being understood
+that none of it shall be used to buy eclairs or other personal
+property with.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"There," said the Unwiseman, as he finished the prospectus. "Just you
+hand that over to your father, Mollie, and see what he says. If he don't
+start the ball a-rolling and buy that old Mountain before we leave this
+place I shall be very much surprised."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But the Unwiseman's grand scheme never went through for Mollie's father
+upon inquiry found that nobody about Chamounix cared to sell his
+interest in the mountain, or even to suggest a price for it.</p>
+
+<p>"They're afraid to sell it I imagine," said Mollie's father, "for fear
+the new purchasers would dig it up altogether and take it over to the
+United States. You see if that were to happen it would leave an awfully
+big hole in the place where Mount Blank used to be and there'd be a lot
+of trouble getting it filled in."</p>
+
+<p>For all of which I am sincerely sorry because there are times in
+midsummer in America when I would give a great deal if some such
+enterprise as a "Switzer Snow &amp; Ice Co." would dump a few tons of snow
+into my cellar for use in the furnace.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="XI" id="XI">XI.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE UNWISEMAN PLANS A CHAMOIS COMPANY</h3>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman's disappointment over the failure of his Switzer Snow &amp;
+Ice Company was very keen at first and the strange old gentleman was
+inclined to be as thoroughly disgusted with Switzerland as he had been
+with London and Paris. He was especially put out when, after travelling
+seven or eight miles to see a "glazier," as he called it, he discovered
+that a glacier was not a frozen "window-pane mender" but a stream of ice
+flowing perennially down from the Alpine summits into the valleys.</p>
+
+<p>"They bank too much on their snow-drifts over here," he remarked, after
+he had visited the <i>Mer-de-Glace</i>. "I wouldn't give seven cents to <i>see</i>
+a thing like that when I've been brought up close to New York where we
+have blizzards every once in a while that tie up the whole city till it
+looks like one glorious big snow-ball fight."</p>
+
+<p>And then when he wanted to go fishing in one of the big fissures of the
+glacier, and was told<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> he could drop a million lines down there without
+getting a bite of any kind he announced his intention of getting out of
+the country as soon as he possibly could. But after all the Unwiseman
+had a naturally sun-shiny disposition and this added to the wonderful
+air of Switzerland, which in itself is one of the most beautiful things
+in a beautiful world, soon brought him out of his sulky fit and set him
+to yodeling once more as gaily as a Swiss Mountain boy. He began to see
+some of the beauties of the country and his active little mind was not
+slow at discovering advantages not always clear to people with less
+inquisitiveness.</p>
+
+<p>"I should think," he observed to Mollie one morning as he gazed up at
+Mount Blanc's pure white summit, "that this would be a great ice-cream
+country. I'd like to try the experiment of pasturing a lot of fine
+Jersey cows up on those ice-fields. Just let 'em browze around one of
+those glaciers every day for a week and give 'em a cupful of vanilla, or
+chocolate extract or a strawberry once in a while and see if they
+wouldn't give ice-cream instead o' milk. It would be worth trying,
+anyhow."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mollie thought it would and Whistlebinkie gave voice to a long low
+whistle of delight at the idea.</p>
+
+<p>"It-ud-be-bettern-soder-watter-rany-way!" he whistled.</p>
+
+<p>"Anything would be better than soda water," said the Unwiseman, who had
+only tried it once and got nothing but the bubbles. "Soda water's too
+foamy for me. It's like drinking whipped air."</p>
+
+<p>But the thing that pleased the Unwiseman more than anything else was a
+pet chamois that he encountered at a little Swiss Chalet on one of his
+tours of investigation. It was a cunning little animal, very timid of
+course, like a fawn, but tame, and for some reason or other it took
+quite a fancy to the Unwiseman&mdash;possibly because he looked so like a
+Swiss Mountain Boy with a peaked cap he had purchased, and ribbons wound
+criss-cross around his calves and his magnificent Alpen-stock upon which
+had been burned the names of all the Alps he had <i>not</i> climbed. And then
+the Unwiseman's yodel had become something unusually fine and original
+in the line of yodeling, which may have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> attracted the chamois and made
+him feel that the Unwiseman was a person to be trusted. At any rate the
+little animal instead of running away and jumping from crag to crag at
+the Unwiseman's approach, as most chamois would do, came inquiringly up
+to him and stuck out its soft velvety nose to be scratched, and
+permitted the Unwiseman to inspect its horns and silky chestnut-brown
+coat as if it recognized in the little old man a true and tried friend
+of long standing.</p>
+
+<p>"Why you little beauty you!" cried the Unwiseman, as he sat on the fence
+and stroked the beautiful creature's neck. "So you're what they call a
+shammy, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The chamois turned its lovely eyes upon his new found friend, and then
+lowered his head to have it scratched again.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"Mary had a little sham</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Whose hide was soft as cotton,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">And everywhere that Mary went</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The shammy too went trottin'."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>sang the Unwiseman, dropping into poetry as was one of his habits when
+he was deeply moved.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 354px;"><a name="ILL_009" id="ILL_009"></a>
+<img src="images/ill_009.jpg" width="354" height="500" alt="" />
+<span class="caption">THE CHAMOIS EVIDENTLY LIKED THIS VERSE FOR ITS EYES TWINKLED</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The chamois evidently liked this verse for its eyes twinkled and it laid
+its head gently on the Unwiseman's knee and looked at him appealingly as
+if to say, "More of that poetry please. You are a bard after my own
+heart." So the Unwiseman went on, keeping time to his verse by slight
+taps on the chamois' nose.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"It followed her to town one day</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Unto the Country Fair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">And earned five hundred dollars just</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">In shining silver-ware."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie indulged in a loud whistle of mirth at this, which so
+startled the little creature that it leapt backward fifteen feet in the
+air and landed on top of a small pump at the rear of the yard, and stood
+there poised on its four feet just like the chamois we see in pictures
+standing on a sharp peak miles up in the air, trembling just a little
+for fear that Whistlebinkie's squeak would be repeated. A moment of
+silence seemed to cure this, however, for in less than two minutes it
+was back again at the Unwiseman's side gazing soulfully at him as if
+demanding yet another verse. Of course the Unwiseman could not
+resist&mdash;he never could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> when people demanded poetry from him, it came
+so very easy&mdash;and so he continued:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"The children at the Country Fair</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Indulged in merry squawks</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">To see the shammy polishing</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The family knives and forks.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"The tablespoons, and coffee pots,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The platters and tureens,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">The top of the mahogany,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">And crystal fire-screens."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"More!" pleaded the chamois with his soft eyes, snuggling its head close
+into the Unwiseman's lap, and the old gentleman went on:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"'O isn't he a wondrous kid!'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">The wondering children cried.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">We didn't know a shammy could</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">Do such things if he tried.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"And Mary answered with a smile</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">That dimpled up her chin</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">'There's much that shammy's cannot do,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25em;">But much that shammy-skin.'"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie's behavior at this point became so utterly and inexcusably
+boisterous with mirth that the confiding little chamois was again
+frightened away and this time it gave three rapid leaps into the air
+which landed it ultimately upon the ridge-pole of the chalet, from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>
+which it wholly refused to descend, in spite of all the persuasion in
+the world, for the rest of the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>"Very intelligent little animal that," said the Unwiseman, as he trudged
+his way home. "A very high appreciation of true poetry, inclined to make
+friendship with the worthy, and properly mistrustful of people full of
+strange noises and squeaks."</p>
+
+<p>"He was awfully pretty, wasn't he," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but he was better than pretty," observed the Unwiseman. "He could
+be made useful. Things that are only pretty are all very well in their
+way, but give me the useful things&mdash;like my kitchen-stove for instance.
+If that kitchen-stove was only pretty do you suppose I'd love it the way
+I do? Not at all. I'd just put it on the mantel-piece, or on the piano
+in my parlor and never think of it a second time, but because it is
+useful I pay attention to it every day, polish it with stove polish,
+feed it with coal and see that the ashes are removed from it when its
+day's work is done. Nobody ever thinks of doing such things with a plain
+piece of bric-a-brac<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> that can't be used for anything at all. You don't
+put any coal or stove polish on that big Chinese vase you have in your
+parlor, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mollie, "of course not."</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll warrant that in all the time you've had that opal glass jug on
+the mantel-piece of your library you never shook the ashes down in it
+once," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Mity-goo-dreeson-wy!" whistled Whistlebinkie. "They-ain't never no
+ashes in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Correct though ungrammatically expressed," observed the Unwiseman.
+"There never are any ashes in it to be shaken down, which is a pretty
+good reason to believe that it is never used to fry potatoes on or to
+cook a chop with, or to roast a turkey in&mdash;which proves exactly what I
+say that it is only pretty and isn't half as useful as my
+kitchen-stove."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be pretty hard to find anything useful for the bric-a-brac to
+do though," suggested Mollie, who loved pretty things whether they had
+any other use or not.</p>
+
+<p>"It all depends on your bric-a-brac," said the Unwiseman. "I can find
+plenty of useful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> things for mine to do. There's my coal scuttle for
+instance&mdash;it works all the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Coal-scuttles ain't bric-a-brac," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"My coal scuttle is," said the Unwiseman. "It's got a picture of a daisy
+painted on one side of it, and I gilded the handle myself. Then there's
+my watering pot. That's just as bric-a-bracky as any Chinese china pot
+that ever lived, but it's useful. I use it to water the flowers in
+summer, and to sift my lump sugar through in winter. Every pound of lump
+sugar you buy has some fine sugar with it and if you shake the lump
+sugar up in a watering pot and let the fine sugar sift through the
+nozzle you get two kinds of sugar for the price of one. So it goes all
+through my house from my piano to my old beaver hat&mdash;every bit of my
+bric-a-brac is useful."</p>
+
+<p>"Wattonearth do-you-do with a-nold beevor-at?" whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I use it as a post-office box to mail cross letters in," said the
+Unwiseman gravely. "It's saved me lots of trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Cross letters?" asked Mollie. "You never write cross letters to anybody
+do you?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm doing it all the time," said the Unwiseman. "Whenever anything
+happens that I don't like I sit down and write a terrible letter to the
+people that do it. That eases off my feelings, and then I mail the
+letters in the hat."</p>
+
+<p>"And does the Post-man come and get them?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed," said the Unwiseman. "That's where the beauty of the scheme
+comes in. If I mailed 'em in the post-office box on the lamp-post, the
+post-man would take 'em and deliver them to the man they're addressed to
+and I'd be in all sorts of trouble. But when I mail them in my hat
+nobody comes for them and nobody gets them, and so there's no trouble
+for anybody anywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"But what becomes of them?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"I empty the hat on the first Tuesday after the first Monday of every
+month and use them for kindling in my kitchen-stove," said the
+Unwiseman. "It's a fine scheme. I keep out of trouble, don't have to buy
+so much kindling wood, and save postage."</p>
+
+<p>"That sounds like a pretty good idea," said Mollie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's a first class idea," returned Mr. Me, "and I'm proud of it. It's
+all my own and if I had time I'd patent it. Why I was invited to a party
+once by a small boy who'd thrown a snow-ball at my house and wet one of
+the shingles up where I keep my leak, and I was so angry that I sat down
+and wrote back that I regretted very much to be delighted to say that
+I'd never go to a party at his house if it was the only party in the
+world besides the Republican; that I didn't like him, and thought his
+mother's new spring bonnet was most unbecoming and that I'd heard his
+father had been mentioned for Alderman in our town and all sorts of
+disgraceful things like that. I mailed this right in my hat and used it
+to boil an egg with a month later, while if I'd mailed it in the
+post-office box that boy'd have got it and I couldn't have gone to his
+party at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;you went, did you?" laughed Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"I did and I had a fine time, six eclairs, three plates of ice cream, a
+pound of chicken salad, and a pocketful of nuts and raisins," said the
+Unwiseman. "He turned out to be a very nice boy, and his mother's spring
+bonnet wasn't hers at all but another lady's altogether, and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> father
+had not even been mentioned for Water Commissioner. You see, my dear,
+what a lot of trouble mailing that letter in the old beaver hat saved
+me, not to mention what I earned in the way of food by going to the
+party which I couldn't have done had it been mailed in the regular way."</p>
+
+<p>Here the old gentleman began to yodel happily, and to tell passersby in
+song that he was a "Gay Swiss Laddy with a carpet-bag, That never knew
+fear of the Alpine crag, For his eye was bright and his conscience
+clear, As he leapt his way through the atmosphere, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
+Trala-lolly-O."</p>
+
+<p>"I do-see-how-yood-make-that-shammy-useful," said Whistlebinkie. "Except
+to try your poems on and I don't b'lieve he's a good judge o' potery."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a splendid judge of queer noises," said the Unwiseman, severely.
+"He knew enough to jump a mile whenever you squeaked."</p>
+
+<p>"Watt-else-coodie-doo?" asked Whistlebinkie through his hat. "You
+haven't any silver to keep polished and there aren't enough queer noises
+about your place to keep him busy."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What else coodie-do?" retorted the Unwiseman, giving an imitation of
+Whistlebinkie that set both Mollie and the rubber doll to giggling. "Why
+he could polish up the handle of my big front door for one thing. He
+could lie down on his back and wiggle around the floor and make it shine
+like a lookin' glass for another. He could rub up against my kitchen
+stove and keep it bright and shining for a third&mdash;that's some of the
+things he couldie-doo, but I wouldn't confine him to work around my
+house. I'd lead him around among the neighbors and hire him out for
+fifty cents a day for general shammy-skin house-work. I dare say
+Mollie's mother would be glad to have a real live shammy around that she
+could rub her tea-kettles and coffee pots on when it comes to cleaning
+the silver."</p>
+
+<p>"They can buy all the shammys they need at the grocer's," said
+Whistlebinkie scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Dead ones," said the Unwiseman, "but nary a live shammy have you seen
+at the grocer's or the butcher's or the milliner's or the piano-tuner's.
+That's where Wigglethorpe&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wigglethorpe?" cried Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes Wigglethorpe," repeated the Unwiseman.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> "That's what I have decided
+to call my shammy when I get him because he will wiggle."</p>
+
+<p>"He don't thorpe, does he?" laughed Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"He thorpes just as much as you bink," retorted the Unwiseman. "But as I
+was saying, Wigglethorpe, being alive, will be better than any ten dead
+ones because he won't wear out, maids won't leave him around on the
+parlor floor, and just because he wiggles, the silver and the hardwood
+floors and front door handles will be polished up in half the time it
+takes to do it with a dead one. At fifty cents a day I could earn three
+dollars a week on Wigglethorpe&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Which would be all profit if you fed him on potery," said Whistlebinkie
+with a grin.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I imported a hundred of them after I found that Wigglethorpe was
+successful," the Unwiseman continued, very wisely ignoring
+Whistlebinkie's sarcasm, "that would be&mdash;hum&mdash;ha&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Three hundred dollars a week," prompted Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," said the Unwiseman, "which in a year would amount
+to&mdash;ahem&mdash;three times three hundred and sixty-five is nine, twice nine
+is&mdash;&mdash;"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It comes to $15,600 a year," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Right to a penny," said the Unwiseman. "I was figuring it out by the
+day. Fifteen thousand six hundred dollars a year is a big sum of money
+and reckoned in eclairs at fifty eclairs for a dollar is&mdash;er&mdash;is&mdash;well
+you couldn't eat 'em if you tried, there'd be so many."</p>
+
+<p>"Seven hundred and eighty thousand eclairs," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I said," said the Unwiseman. "You just couldn't eat 'em,
+but you could sell 'em, so really you'd have two businesses right away,
+shammys and eclaires."</p>
+
+<p>"Mitey-big-biziness," hissed Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Unwiseman, "I think I'll suggest it to my burgular when
+I get home. It seems to me to be more honorable then burguling and it's
+just possible that after a summer spent in the uplifting company of my
+kitchen stove and having got used to the pleasant conversation of my
+leak, and seen how peaceful it is to just spend your days exercising a
+sweet gentle umbrella like mine, he'll want to reform and go into
+something else that he can do in the day-time."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>By this time the little party had reached the hotel, and Mollie's father
+was delighted to hear of the Unwiseman's proposition. It was an entirely
+new idea, he said, although he was doubtful if it was a good business
+for a burgular.</p>
+
+<p>"People might not be willing to trust him with their silver," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well then," said the Unwiseman. "Let him begin on front door knobs
+and parlor floors. He's not likely to run away with those."</p>
+
+<p>The next day the travellers left Switzerland and when I next caught
+sight of them they had arrived at Venice.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="XII" id="XII">XII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>VENICE</h3>
+
+<p>It was late at night when Mollie and her friends arrived at Venice and
+the Unwiseman, sleeping peacefully as he was in the cavernous depths of
+his carpet-bag, did not get his first glimpse of the lovely city of the
+waters until he waked up the next morning. Unfortunately&mdash;or possibly it
+was a fortunate circumstance&mdash;the old gentleman had heard of Venice only
+in a very vague way before, and had no more idea of its peculiarities
+than he had of those of Waycross Junction, Georgia, or any other place
+he had never seen. Consequently his first sight of Venice filled him
+with a tremendous deal of excitement. Emerging from his carpet-bag in
+the cloak-room of the hotel he walked out upon the front steps of the
+building which descended into the Grand Canal, the broad waterway that
+runs its serpentine length through this historic city of the Adriatic.</p>
+
+<p>"'Gee Whittaker!'" he cried, as the great avenue of water met his gaze.
+"There's been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> a flood! Hi there&mdash;inside&mdash;the water main has busted, and
+the whole town's afloat. Wake up everybody and save yourselves!"</p>
+
+<p>He turned and rushed madly up the hotel stairs to the floor upon which
+his friends' rooms were located, calling lustily all the way:</p>
+
+<p>"Get up everybody&mdash;the reservoy's busted; the dam's loose. To the boats!
+Mollie&mdash;Whistlebinkie&mdash;Mister and Mrs. Mollie&mdash;get up or you'll be
+washed away&mdash;the whole place is flooded. You haven't a minute to spare."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie, opening her door as she
+recognized the Unwiseman's voice out in the hallway. "What are you
+scaring everybody to death for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Get out your life preservers&mdash;quick before it is too late," gasped the
+Unwiseman. "There's a tidal wave galloping up and down the street, and
+we'll be drowned. To the roof! All hands to starboard and man the
+boats."</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>are</i> you talking about?" said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Look out your front window if you don't believe me," panted the
+Unwiseman. "The whole place is chuck full of water&mdash;couldn't bail it out
+in a week&mdash;&mdash;"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh," laughed Mollie, as she realized what it was that had so excited
+her friend. "Is that all?"</p>
+
+<p>"All!" ejaculated the Unwiseman, his eyebrows lifting higher with
+astonishment. "Isn't it enough? What do you want, the whole Atlantic
+Ocean sitting on your front stoop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;" began Mollie, "this is Venice&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Looks like Watertown," interrupted the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Thass-swattit-izz," whistled Whistlebinkie. "Venice is a water town.
+It's built on it."</p>
+
+<p>"Built on it?" queried the Unwiseman looking scornfully at Whistlebinkie
+as much as to say you can't fool me quite so easily as that. "Built on
+water?" he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," said Mollie. "Didn't you know that, Mr. Me? Venice is built
+right out on the sea."</p>
+
+<p>"Well of all queer things!" ejaculated the Unwiseman, so surprised that
+he plumped down on the floor and sat there gazing wonderingly up at
+Mollie. "A whole city built on the sea! What's the matter, wasn't there
+land enough?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, I guess there was plenty of land," said Mollie, "but maybe
+somebody else owned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> it. Anyhow the Venetians came out here where there
+were a lot of little islands to begin with and drove piles into the
+water and built their city on them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well that beats me," said the Unwiseman, shaking his head in
+bewilderment. "I've heard of fellows building up big copperations on
+water, but never a city. How do they keep the water out of their
+cellars?"</p>
+
+<p>"They don't," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe they build their cellars on the roof," suggested Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the Unwiseman, rising from the floor and walking to the
+front window and gazing out at the Grand Canal, "I hope this hotel is
+anchored good and fast. I don't mind going to sea on a big boat that's
+built for it, but I draw the line at sailin' all around creation in a
+hotel."</p>
+
+<p>The droll little old gentleman poised himself on one toe and stretched
+out his arms. "There don't seem to be much motion, does there," he
+remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't any at all," said Mollie. "It's perfectly still."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I guess it's because it's a clam day," observed the Unwiseman uneasily.
+"I hope it'll stay clam while we're here. I'd hate to be caught out in
+movey weather like they had on that sassy little British Channel. This
+hotel would flop about fearfully and <i>I</i> believe it would sink if
+somebody carelessly left a window open, to say nothing of its falling
+over backward and letting the water in the back door."</p>
+
+<p>"Papa says it's perfectly safe," said Mollie. "The place has been here
+more'n a thousand years and it hasn't sunk yet."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said the Unwiseman. "If your father says that I'm satisfied
+because he most generally knows what he's talking about, but all the
+same I think we should ought to have brought a couple o' row boats and a
+lot of life preservers along. I don't believe in taking any chances.
+What do the cab-horses do here, swim?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mollie. "There aren't any horses in Venice. They have
+gondolas."</p>
+
+<p>"Gondolas?" repeated the Unwiseman. "What are gondolas, trained ducks?
+Don't think much o' ducks as a substitute for horses."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Perfly-bsoyd!" whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"I should think they'd drive whales," said the Unwiseman, "or porpoises.
+By Jiminy, that would be fun, wouldn't it? Let's see if we can't hire a
+four whale coach, Mollie, and go driving about the city, or better yet,
+if they've got them well broken, get a school of porpoises. We might put
+on our bathing suits and go horseback riding on 'em. I don't take much
+to the trained duck idea, ducks are so flighty and if they shied at
+anything they might go flying up in the air and dump us backwards out of
+our cab into the water."</p>
+
+<p>"We're going to take a gondola ride this morning," said Mollie. "Just
+you wait and see, Mr. Me."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 354px;"><a name="ILL_010" id="ILL_010"></a>
+<img src="images/ill_010.jpg" width="354" height="500" alt="" />
+<span class="caption">THEY ALL BOARDED A GONDOLA</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>So the Unwiseman waited and an hour later he and Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie boarded a gondola in charge of a very handsome and smiling
+gondolier who said his name was Giuseppe Zocco.</p>
+
+<p>"Soako is a good name for a cab-driver in this town," said the
+Unwiseman, after he had inspected the gondola and ascertained that it
+was seaworthy. "I guess I'll talk to him."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You-do-know-Eye-talian," laughed Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"It's one of the languages I <i>do</i> know," returned the Unwiseman. "I buy
+all my bananas and my peanuts from an Eye-talian at home and for two or
+three years I have been able to talk to him very easily."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the gondolier.</p>
+
+<p>"Gooda da morn, Soako," he observed very politely. "You havea da
+prett-da-boat."</p>
+
+<p>"Si, Signor," returned the smiling gondolier, who was not wholly
+unfamiliar with English.</p>
+
+<p>"See what?" asked the Unwiseman puzzled, but looking about carefully to
+see what there was to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"He says we're at sea," laughed Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;well&mdash;that's it, eh?" said the Unwiseman. "I thought he only spoke
+Eye-talian." And then he addressed the gondolier again. "Da weather's
+mighta da fine, huh? Not a da rain or da heava da wind, eh? Hopa da babe
+is vera da well da morn."</p>
+
+<p>"Si, Signor," said Giuseppe.</p>
+
+<p>"Da Venn greata da place. Too mucha da<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> watt for me. Lika da dry land
+moocha da bett, Giuseppe. Ever sella da banann?" continued the
+Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Non, Signor," replied Giuseppe. "No sella da banann."</p>
+
+<p>"Bully da bizz," said the Unwiseman. "Maka da munn hand over da fist.
+You grinda da org?"</p>
+
+<p>"Huh?" grinned Giuseppe.</p>
+
+<p>"He doesn't understand," said Mollie giggling.</p>
+
+<p>"I asked him if he ever ground a hand-organ," said the Unwiseman.
+"Perfectly simple question. I aska da questch, Giuseppe, if you ever
+grinda da org. You know what I mean. Da musica-box, wid da monk for
+climba da house for catcha da nick."</p>
+
+<p>"What's 'catcha da nick'?" whispered Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"To catch the nickels, stoopid," said the Unwiseman; "don't interrupt.
+No hava da monk, Giuseppe?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Non, Signor," said the gondolier. "No hava da monk."</p>
+
+<p>"Too bad," observed the Unwiseman. "Hand-org not moocha da good without
+da monk. Da<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> monk maka da laugh and catcha da mun by da cupful. If you
+ever come to America, Giuseppe, no forgetta da monk with a redda da
+cap."</p>
+
+<p>With which admonition the Unwiseman turned his attention to other
+things.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that really Eye-talian?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is," said the Unwiseman. "It's the easiest language in the
+world to pick up and only requires a little practice to make you speak
+it as if it were your own tongue. I was never conscious that I was
+learning it in my morning talks with old Gorgorini, the banana man at
+home. This would be a great place for automobiles, wouldn't it, Mollie?"
+he laughed in conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't guesso," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>The gondolier now guided the graceful craft to a flight of marble steps
+up which Mollie and her friends mounted to the Piazza San Marco.</p>
+
+<p>"This is great," said the Unwiseman as he gazed about him and took in
+its splendors. "It's a wonder to me that they don't have a lot of places
+like this on the way over from New York to Liverpool. Crossing the ocean
+would be some fun if you could step off every hour or two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> and stretch
+your legs on something solid, and buy a few tons of tumblers, and feed
+pigeons. Fact is I think that's the best cure in the world for
+sea-sickness. If you could run up to a little piazza like this three
+times a day where there's a nice restaurant waiting for you and no
+motion to spoil your appetite I wouldn't mind being a sailor for the
+rest of my life."</p>
+
+<p>The travellers passed through the glorious church of San Marco,
+inspected the Doge's Palace and then returned to the gondola, upon which
+they sailed back to their hotel.</p>
+
+<p>"Moocha da thanks, Giuseppe," said the Unwiseman, as he alighted.
+"Here's a Yankee da quart for you. Save it up and when you come to
+America as all the Eye-talians seem to be doing these days, it will help
+start you in business."</p>
+
+<p>And handing the gondolier a quarter the Unwiseman disappeared into the
+hotel. The next day he entered Mollie's room and asked permission to sit
+out on her balcony.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll try a little fishing this afternoon," he said. "It isn't a
+bad idea having a hotel right on the water front this way after all. You
+can sit out on your balcony and drop your line out into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> the water and
+just haul them in by the dozen."</p>
+
+<p>But alas for the old gentleman's expectations, he caught never a fish.
+Whether it was the fault of the bait or not I don't know, but the only
+things he succeeded in catching were an old barrel-hoop that went
+floating along the canal from the Fruit Market up the way, and, sad to
+relate, the straw hat of an American artist on his way home in his
+gondola from a day's painting out near the Lido. The latter incident
+caused a great deal of trouble and it took all the persuasion that
+Mollie's father was capable of to keep the artist from having the
+Unwiseman arrested. It seems that the artist was very much put out
+anyhow because, mix his colors as he would, he could not get that
+peculiarly beautiful blue of the Venetian skies, and the lovely
+iridescent hues of the Venetian air were too delicate for such a brush
+as his, and to have his straw hat unceremoniously snatched off his head
+by an old gentleman two flights up with an ordinary fish hook baited
+with macaroni in addition to his other troubles was too much for his
+temper, not a good one at best.</p>
+
+<p>"I am perfectly willing to say that I am sorry,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> protested the
+Unwiseman when he was hauled before the angry artist. "I naturally would
+be sorry. When a man goes fishing for shad and lands nothing but a last
+year's straw hat, why wouldn't he be sorry?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's a mighty poor apology!" retorted the artist, putting the straw
+hat on his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Well I'm a poor man," said the Unwiseman. "My expenses have been very
+heavy of late. What with buying an air-gun to shoot Alps with, and
+giving a quarter to the Ganderman to help him buy a monkey, I'm reduced
+from nine-fifty to a trifle under seven dollars."</p>
+
+<p>"You had no business fishing from that balcony!" said the artist
+angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't any business anywhere, I've retired," said the Unwiseman.
+"And I can tell you one thing certain," he added, "if I was going back
+into business I wouldn't take up fishing for straw hats and barrel-hoops
+in Venice. There's nothing but to trouble in it."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall lodge a complaint against you in the Lion's Mouth," said the
+artist, with a slight twinkle in his eye, his good humor returning in
+the presence of the Unwiseman.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And I shall fall back on my rights as an American citizen to fish
+whenever I please from my own balcony with my own bait without
+interruption from foreign straw hats," said the Unwiseman with dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" cried the artist. "You an American?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," said the Unwiseman. "You didn't take me for an Eye-talian,
+did you?"</p>
+
+<p>"So am I," returned the artist holding out his hand. "If you'd only told
+me that in the beginning I never should have complained."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mention it," said the Unwiseman graciously. "I was afraid you
+were an Englishman, and then there'd been a war sure, because I'll never
+give in to an Englishman. If your hat is seriously damaged I'll give you
+my tarpaulin, seeing that you are an American like myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," said the artist. "The hat isn't hurt at all and I'm very
+glad to have met you. If your hook had only caught my eye on my way up
+the canal I should have turned aside so as not to interfere."</p>
+
+<p>"Well I'm mighty glad it didn't catch your eye," said the Unwiseman. "I
+could afford to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> buy you a new straw hat, but I'm afraid a new eye would
+have busted me."</p>
+
+<p>And there the trouble ended. The artist and the Unwiseman shook hands
+and parted friends.</p>
+
+<p>"What was that he said about the Lion's Mouth?" asked the Unwiseman
+after the artist had gone.</p>
+
+<p>"He said he'd lodge a complaint there," said Mollie. "That's the way
+they used to do here. Those big statues of lions out in front of the
+Doggies' Palace with their mouths wide open are big boxes where people
+can mail their complaints to the Government."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see," said the Unwiseman. "And when the Doggies get the
+complaints they attend to 'em, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"And who are the Doggies?" asked the Unwiseman. "They don't have dogs
+instead of pleece over here, do they? I get so mixed up with these
+Johns, and Bobbies, and Doggies I hardly know where I'm at."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't exactly understand why," said Mollie, "but the people in Venice
+are ruled by Doggies."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"They're a queer lot from Buckingham Palace, London, down to this old
+tow-path," said the Unwiseman, "and if I ever get home alive there's no
+more abroad for your Uncle Me."</p>
+
+<p>On the following day, Mollie's parents having seen all of Venice that
+their limited time permitted, prepared to start for Genoa, whence the
+steamer back to New York was to sail. Everything was ready, but the
+Unwiseman was nowhere to be found. The hotel was searched from top to
+bottom and not a sign of him. Giuseppe Zocco denied all knowledge of
+him, and the carpet-bag gave no evidence that he had been in it the
+night before as was his custom. Train-time was approaching and Mollie
+was distracted. Even Whistlebinkie whistled under his breath for fear
+that something had happened to the old gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope he hasn't fallen overboard!" moaned Mollie, gazing anxiously
+into the watery depths of the canal.</p>
+
+<p>"Here he comes!" cried Whistlebinkie, jubilantly, and sure enough down
+the canal seated on a small raft and paddling his way cautiously along
+with his hands came the Unwiseman, singing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> the popular Italian ballad
+"Margherita" at the top of his lungs.</p>
+
+<p>"Gander ahoy!" he cried, as he neared the hotel steps. "Sheer off there,
+Captain, and let me into Port."</p>
+
+<p>The gondolier made room for him and the Unwiseman alighted.</p>
+
+<p>"Where <i>have</i> you been?" asked Mollie, throwing her arms about his neck.</p>
+
+<p>"Up the canal a little way," he answered unconcernedly. "I wanted to
+mail a letter to the Doggie in the Lion's Mouth."</p>
+
+<p>"What about?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Watertown, otherwise Venice," said the Unwiseman. "I had some
+suggestions for its improvement and I didn't want to go way without
+making them. There's a copy of my letter if you want to see it," he
+added, handing Mollie a piece of paper upon which he had written as
+follows:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;">29 Grand Canal St., Venice, It.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Ancient &amp; Honorable Bow-wows</span>:</p>
+
+<p>I have enjoyed my visit to your beautiful but wet old town very
+much and would respectfully advise you that there are several
+things you can do to keep it unspiled. These are as follows to wit
+viz:</p>
+
+<p>I. Bale it out once in a while and see that the barrel hoops in
+your Grand Canal are sifted out of it. They're a mighty poor
+stubstishoot for shad.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>II. Get a few trained whales in commission so that when a feller
+wants to go driving he won't have to go paddling.</p>
+
+<p>III. Stock your streets with trout, or flounders, or perch or even
+sardines in order that us Americans who feel like fishing won't
+have to be satisfied with a poor quality of straw hat.</p>
+
+<p>IV. During the fishing season compel artists returning from their
+work to wear beaver hats or something else that a fish-hook baited
+with macaroni won't catch into thus making a lot of trouble.</p>
+
+<p>V. Get together on your language. I speak the very best variety of
+banana-stand Italian and twenty-three out of twenty-four people to
+which I have made remarks in it have not been able to grasp my
+meaning.</p>
+
+<p>VI. Pigeons are very nice to have but they grow monotonous. Would
+suggest a half dozen first class American hens as an ornament to
+your piazza.</p>
+
+<p>VII. Stop calling yourself Doggies. It makes people laugh.</p>
+
+<p>With kind regards to the various Mrs. Ds, believe me to be with
+mucho da respecto,</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;">Yoursa da trool,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;">Da Unadawisamann.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>P.S. If you ever go sailing abroad in your old town point her
+nose towards my country. We'll all be glad to see you over there
+and can supply you with all the water you need.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;">Y da T,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Mister Me</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>It was with these recommendations to the Doges that the Unwiseman left
+Venice. Whether they were ever received or not I have never heard, but
+if they were I am quite sure they made the "Doggies" yelp with delight.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII">XIII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>GENOA, GIBRALTAR, AND COLUMBUS</h3>
+
+<p>"Whatta da namea dissa cit?" asked the Unwiseman in his best Italian as
+the party arrived at Genoa, whence they were to set sail for home the
+next day.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Genoa," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"What's it good for?" demanded the old gentleman, gazing around him in a
+highly critical fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"It's where Christopher Columbus was born," said Mollie. "Didn't you
+know that?"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean the gentleman who discovered the United States, do you?"
+asked the Unwiseman, his face brightening with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"The very same," said Mollie. "He was born right here in this town."</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "Queer place for a fellow like that
+to be born in. You'd think a man who was going to discover America would
+have been born a little nearer the United States than this. Up in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>
+Canada for instance, or down around Cuba, so's he wouldn't have so far
+to travel."</p>
+
+<p>"Canada and Cuba weren't discovered either at that time," explained
+Mollie, smiling broadly at the Unwiseman's ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>"Really?" said the Unwiseman. "Well that accounts for it. I always
+wondered why the United States wasn't discovered by somebody nearer
+home, like a Canadian or a Cuban, or some fellow down around where the
+Panama hats come from, but of course if there wasn't any Canadians or
+Cubans or Panama hatters around to do it, it's as clear as pie." The old
+gentleman paused a moment, and then he went on: "So this is the place
+that would have been our native land if Columbus hadn't gone to sea, is
+it? I think I'll take home a bottle of it to keep on the mantel-piece
+alongside of my bottle of United States and label 'em' My Native Land,
+Before and After.'"</p>
+
+<p>"That's a very good idea," said Mollie. "Then you'll have a complete
+set."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder," said the Unwiseman, rubbing his forehead reflectively, "I
+wonder if he's alive yet."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What, Christopher Columbus?" laughed Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "I haven't seen much in the papers about him
+lately, but that don't prove he's dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Why he discovered America in 1492," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;let's see&mdash;how long ago was that? More'n forty years, wasn't it?"
+said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess it was more than forty years ago," giggled Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;say fifty then," said the Unwiseman. "I'm pretty nearly that old
+myself. I was born in 1839, or 1843, or some such year, and as I
+remember it we'd been discovered then&mdash;but that wouldn't make him so
+awfully old you know. A man can be eighty and still live. Look at old
+Methoosalum&mdash;he was nine hundred."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh well," said Mollie, "there isn't any use of talking about it.
+Columbus has been dead a long time&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All I can say is that I'm very sorry," interrupted the Unwiseman, with
+a sad little shake of his head. "I should very much like to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> gone
+over and called on him just to thank him for dishcovering the United
+States. Just think, Mollie, of what would have happened if he hadn't!
+You and I and old Fizzledinkie here would have had to be Eye-talians, or
+Switzers, and live over here all the time if it hadn't been for him, and
+our own beautiful native land would have been left way across the sea
+all alone by itself and we'd never have known anything about it."</p>
+
+<p>"We certainly ought to be very much obliged to Mr. Columbus for all he
+did for us," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"I-guess-somebuddyelse-wudda-donit," whistled Whistlebinkie. "They
+cuddn'-ta-helptit-with-all-these-socean steamers-going-over-there
+every-day."</p>
+
+<p>"That's true enough," said the Unwiseman, "but we ought to be thankful
+to Columbus just the same. Other people <i>might</i> have done it, but the
+fact remains that he <i>did</i> do it, so I'm much obliged to him. I'd sort
+of like to do something to show my gratitude."</p>
+
+<p>"Better write to his family," grinned Whistlebinkie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"For a rubber doll with a squeak instead of brain in his head that's a
+first rate idea, Fizzledinkie," said the old gentleman. "I'll do it."</p>
+
+<p>And so he did. The evening mail from the Unwiseman's hotel carried with
+it a souvenir postal card addressed to Christopher Columbus, Jr., upon
+which the sender had written as follows:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Genoa</span>, Aug. 23, 19&mdash;.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Christopher</span>:</p>
+
+<p>As an American citizen I want to thank you for your Papa's very
+great kindness in dishcovering the United States. When I think
+that if he hadn't I might have been born a Switzer or a French
+John Darm it gives me a chill. I would have called on you to say
+this in person if I'd had time, but we are going to sail tomorrow
+for home and we're pretty busy packing up our carpet-bags and
+eating our last meals on shore. If you ever feel like dishcovering
+us on your own account and cross over the briny deep yourself,
+don't fail to call on me at my home where I have a fine kitching
+stove and an umbrella which will always be at your disposal.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;">Yours trooly,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">The Unwiseman</span>, U.&nbsp;S.&nbsp;A.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Later in the evening to the same address was despatched another postal
+reading:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>P.S. If you happen to have an extra photograph of your Papa lying
+around the house that you don't want with his ortygraph on it I
+shall be glad to have you send it to me. I will have it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> framed
+and hung up in the parlor alongside of General Washington and
+President Roosevelt who have also been fathers of their country
+from time to time.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;">Yours trooly,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">The Unwiseman</span>, U.&nbsp;S.&nbsp;A.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad I did that," said the Unwiseman when he told Mollie of his two
+messages to Christopher, Jr. "I don't think people as a rule are careful
+enough these days to show their thanks to other people who do things for
+them. It don't do any harm to be polite in matters of that kind and some
+time it may do a lot of good. Good manners ain't never out of place
+anywhere anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>In which praiseworthy sentiment I am happy to say both Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie agreed.</p>
+
+<p>The following day the travellers embarked on the steamer bound for New
+York. This time, weary of his experience as a stowaway on the trip over,
+the Unwiseman contented himself with travelling in his carpet-bag and
+not until after the ship had passed along the Mediterranean and out
+through the straits of Gibraltar, did he appear before his companions.
+His first appearance upon deck was just as the coast of Africa was
+fading away upon the horizon. He peered at this long and earnestly
+through a small blue bottle he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> held in his hand, and then when the last
+vestige of the scene sank slowly behind the horizon line into the sea,
+he corked the bottle up tightly, put it into his pocket and turned to
+Mollie and Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, "that's done&mdash;and I'm glad of it. I've enjoyed this
+trip very much, but after all I'm glad I'm going home. Be it ever so
+bumble there's no place like home, as the Bee said, and I'll be glad to
+be back again where I can sleep comfortably on my kitchen-stove, with my
+beloved umbrella standing guard alongside of me, and my trusty leak
+looking down upon me from the ceiling while I rest."</p>
+
+<p>"You missed a wonderful sight," said Mollie. "That Rock of Gibraltar was
+perfectly magnificent."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't miss it," said the Unwiseman. "I peeked at it through the
+port-hole and I quite agree with you. It is the cutest piece of rock
+I've seen in a long time. It seemed almost as big to me as the boulder
+in my back yard must seem to an ant, but I prefer my boulder just the
+same. Gibrallyper's too big to do anything with and it spoils the view,
+whereas my boulder can be rolled around the place without any trouble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>
+and doesn't spoil anything. I suppose they keep it there to keep Spain
+from sliding down into the sea, so it's useful in a way, but after all
+I'm just as glad it's here instead of out on my lawn somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"What have you been doing all these days?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"O just keeping quiet," said the Unwiseman. "I've been reading up on
+Christopher Columbus and&mdash;er&mdash;writing a few poems about him. He was a
+wonderful man, Columbus was. He proved the earth was round when
+everybody else thought it was flat&mdash;and how do you suppose he did it?"</p>
+
+<p>"By sailin' around it," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"That was after he proved it," observed the Unwiseman, with the superior
+air of one who knows more than somebody else. "He proved it by making an
+egg stand up on its hind legs."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" cried Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know eggs had hind legs," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Ever see a chicken?" asked the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, a chicken's only an advanced egg," said the Unwiseman.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That's true," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"And chickens haven't got anything but hind legs, have they?" demanded
+the old gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"Thass-a-fact," whistled Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"And Columbus proved it by making the egg stand up?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what history tells us," said the Unwiseman. "All the Harvard and
+Yale professors of the day said the earth was flat, but Columbus knew
+better, so he just took an egg and proved it. That's one of the things
+I've put in a poem. Want to hear it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I do," said Mollie. "It must be interesting."</p>
+
+<p>"It is&mdash;it's the longest poem I ever wrote," said the Unwiseman, and
+seeking out a retired nook on the steamer's deck the droll old fellow
+seated himself on a coil of rope and read the following poem to Mollie
+and Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<h4>COLUMBUS AND THE EGG.</h4>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"Columbus was a gentleman</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Who sailed the briny sea.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He was a bright young Genoan</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">In sunny Italy</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Who once discovered just the plan</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">To find Amerikee."</span><br />
+</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Splendid!" cried Mollie, clapping her hands with glee.</p>
+
+<p>"Perfly-bully!" chortled Whistlebinkie, with a joyous squeak.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad you like it," said the Unwiseman, with a smile of pleasure.
+"But just you wait. The best part of it's to come yet."</p>
+
+<p>And the old gentleman resumed his poem:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"He sought the wise-men of his time,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">And when the same were found,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He went and whispered to them, 'I'm</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Convinced the Earth is round,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Just like an orange or a lime&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">I'll bet you half a pound!'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"Each wise-man then just shook his head&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Each one within his hat.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">'Go to, Columbus, child,' they said.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">'<i>We</i> know the Earth is flat.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Go home, my son, and go to bed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">And don't talk stuff like that.'</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"But Christopher could not be hushed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">By fellows such as they.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">His spirit never could be crushed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">In such an easy way,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And with his heart and soul unsquushed</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">He plunged into the fray."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"What's a fray?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"A fight, row, dispute, argyment," said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> Unwiseman. "Don't
+interrupt. We're coming to the exciting part."</p>
+
+<p>And he went on:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"'I'll prove the world is round,' said he</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">'For you next Tuesday night,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">If you will gather formally</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">And listen to the right.'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And all the wise-men did agree</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Because they loved a fight.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"And so the wise-men gathered there</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">To hear Columbus talk,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And some were white as to the hair</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">And some could hardly walk,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And one looked like a Polar Bear</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">And one looked like an Auk."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"How-dju-know-that?" asked Whistlebinkie. "Does the history say all
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the Unwiseman. "The history doesn't say anything about their
+looks, but there's a picture of the whole party in the book, and it was
+just as I say especially the Polar Bear and the Auk. Anyhow, they were
+all there and the poem goes on to tell about it.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"Now when about the room they sat</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Columbus he came in;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Took off his rubbers and his hat,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Likewise his tarpaulin.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">He cleared his throat and stroked the cat</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">And thuswise did begin."</span><br />
+</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There wasn't any cat in the picture," explained the Unwiseman, "but I
+introduced him to get a rhyme for hat and sat. Sometimes you have to do
+things like that in poetry and according to the rules if you have a
+license you can do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got a license?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to write poetry, but I've got a dog-license," said the Unwiseman,
+"and I guess if a man pays three dollars to keep a dog and doesn't keep
+the dog he's got a right to use the license for something else. I'll
+risk it anyhow. So just keep still and listen.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"'You see this egg?' Columbus led.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">'Now watch me, sirs, I begs.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">I'll make it stand upon its head</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Or else upon its legs.'</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And instantly 'twas as he said</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">As sure as eggs is eggs.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"For whether 'twas an Egg from school</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Or in a circus taught,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Or whether it was just a cool</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Egg of unusual sort,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">That egg stood up just like a spool</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">According to report."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"I bet he smashed in the end of it," said Whistlebinkie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Maybe it was a scrambled egg, maybe he stuck a pin in an end of it.
+Maybe he didn't. Anyhow, he made it stand up," said the Unwiseman, "and
+I wish you'd stop squeakyrupting when I'm reading."</p>
+
+<p>"Go ahead," said Whistlebinkie meekly. "It's a perfly spulendid piece o'
+potery and I can't help showing my yadmiration for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well keep your yadmiration for the yend of it," retorted the Unwiseman.
+"We'll be in New York before I get it finished at this rate."</p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie promised not to squeak again and the Unwiseman resumed.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"'O wonderful!' the wise-men cried.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">'O marvellous,' said they.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And then Columbus up and tried</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">The egg the other way,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">And still it stood up full of pride</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Or so the histories say.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"Again the wise-men cried aloud,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">'O wizard, marvellous!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Of all the scientific crowd</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">This is the man for us&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">O Christopher we're mighty proud</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Of you, you little cuss!'"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"That wasn't very polite," began Whistlebinkie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Now Squeaky," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"'Scuse!" gasped Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>And the Unwiseman went on:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"'For men who make an omlette</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">We really do not care;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">To poach an egg already yet</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Is easy everywhere;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">But he who'll teach it etiquette&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">He is a genius rare.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"'So if <i>you</i> say the Earth is round</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">We think it must be so.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Your reasoning's so very sound,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Columbus don't you know.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Come wizard, take your half-a-pound</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Before you homeward go.'"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Whistlebinkie began to fidget again and his breath came in little short
+squeaks.</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't see," he began. "It didn't prove&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" said the Unwiseman. "Don't you try to get in ahead of the
+finish. Here's the last verse, and it covers your ground.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">"And thus it was, O children dear,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">Who gather at my knee,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Columbus showed the Earth the sphere</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">It since has proved to be;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 26em;">Though how the Egg trick made it clear,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 27em;">I'm blest if I can see."</span><br />
+</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well I'm glad you put that last voyse in," said Whistlebinkie, "because
+I don't see either."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;I guess they thought a man who could train an egg to stand up was a
+pretty smart man," said Mollie, "and they didn't want to dispute with
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't be surprised if that was it," said the Unwiseman. "I
+noticed too in the picture that Columbus was about twice as big as any
+of the wise-men, and maybe that had something to do with it too. Anyhow,
+he was pretty smart."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all you wrote?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the Unwiseman. "I did another little one called 'I Wonder.'
+There are a lot of things the histories don't tell you anything about,
+so I've put 'em all in a rhyme as a sort of hint to people who are going
+to write about him in the future. It goes like this:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"When Christopher Columbus came ashore,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The day he landed in Americor</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">I wonder what he said when first he tried</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Down in the subway trains to take a ride?</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"When Christopher Columbus went up town</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And looked the country over, up and down,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">I wonder what he thought when first his eye</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 21em;">Was caught by the sky-scrapers in the sky?</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"When Christopher put up at his hotel</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And first pushed in the button of his bell</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And upward came the boy who orders takes,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">I wonder if he ordered buckwheat cakes?</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"When Christopher went down to Washington</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">To pay his call the President upon</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">I wonder if the President felt queer</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">To know that his discoverer was here?</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"I wonder when his slow-poke caravels</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Were tossed about by heavy winds and swells,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">If he was not put out and mad to spy</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The ocean steamers prancing swiftly by?"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know about other people," said the Unwiseman, "but little
+things like that always interest me about as much as anything else, but
+there's nary a word about it in the papers, and as far as my memory is
+concerned when he first came I was too young to know much about what was
+going on. I do remember a big parade in his honor, but I think that was
+some years after the discovery."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess it was," said Mollie, with a laugh. "There wasn't anything but
+Indians there when he arrived."</p>
+
+<p>"Really? How unfortunate&mdash;how very unfortunate," said the Unwiseman. "To
+think that on the few occasions that he came here he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> should meet only
+Indians. Mercy! What a queer idea of the citizens of the United States
+he must have got. Really, Mollie, I don't wonder that instead of
+settling down in New York, or Boston, or Chicago, he went back home
+again to live. Nothing but Indians! Well, well, well!"</p>
+
+<p>And the Unwiseman wandered moodily back to his carpet-bag.</p>
+
+<p>"With so many nice people living in America," he sighed, "it does seem
+too bad that he should meet only Indians who, while they may be very
+good Indians indeed, are not noted for the quality of their manners."</p>
+
+<p>And so the little party passed over the sea, and I did not meet with
+them again until I reached the pier at New York and discovered the
+Unwiseman struggling with the Custom House Inspectors.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV">XIV.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>AT THE CUSTOM HOUSE</h3>
+
+<p>"Hi there&mdash;where are you going with that carpet-bag?" cried a gruff
+voice, as the Unwiseman scurried along the pier, eager to get back home
+as speedily as possible after the arrival of the steamer at New York.</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you suppose I'm going?" retorted the Unwiseman, pausing in his
+quick-step march back to the waiting arms of his kitchen-stove. "Doesn't
+look as if I was walkin' off to sea again, does it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come back here with that bag," said the man of the gruff voice, a tall
+man with a shiny black moustache and a blue cap with gold trimmings on
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>"What, me?" demanded the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you," said the man roughly. "What business have you skipping out
+like that with a carpet-bag as big as a house under your arm?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's my bag&mdash;who's got a better right?" retorted the Unwiseman. "I
+bought and paid for it with my own money, so why shouldn't I walk off
+with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Has it been inspected?" demanded the official.</p>
+
+<p>"It don't need to be&mdash;there ain't any germans in it," said the
+Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Germans?" laughed the official.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;Mike robes&mdash;you know&mdash;&mdash;" continued the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"O, you mean germs," said the official. "Well, I didn't say disinfected.
+I said inspected. You can't lug a bag like that in through here without
+having it examined, you know. What you got in it?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 354px;"><a name="ILL_011" id="ILL_011"></a>
+<img src="images/ill_011.jpg" width="354" height="500" alt="" />
+<span class="caption">THE UNWISEMAN LOOKED THE OFFICIAL COLDLY IN THE EYE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman placed his bag on the floor of the pier and sat on it and
+looked the other coldly in the eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you anyhow?" he asked. "What right have you to ask me such
+impident questions as, What have I got in this bag?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well in private life my name's Maginnis," said the official, "but down
+here on this dock I'm Uncle Sam, otherwise the United States of America,
+that's who."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a><br /><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Unwiseman threw his head back and roared with laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not mean to be rude, my dear Mr. Maginnis," he said, "but I really
+must say Tutt, Tush, Pshaw and Pooh. I may even go so far as to say
+Pooh-pooh&mdash;which is twice as scornful as just plain pooh. <i>You</i> Uncle
+Sam? You must think I'm as green as apples if you think I'll believe
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"It is true nevertheless," said the official sternly, "and unless you
+hand over that bag at once&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well I know better," said the Unwiseman angrily. "Uncle Sam has a red
+goatee and you've got nothing but a shiny black moustache that looks
+like a pair of comic eyebrows that have slipped and slid down over your
+nose. Uncle Sam wears a blue swallow-tail coat with brass buttons on it,
+and a pair of red and white striped trousers like a peppermint stick,
+and you've got nothin' but an old pea-jacket and blue flannel pants on,
+and as for the hat, Uncle Sam wears a yellow beaver with fur on it like
+a coon-cat, while that thing of yours looks like a last summer's
+yachtin' cap spruced up with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> brass. You're a very smart man, Mr.
+Maginnis, but you can't fool an old traveller like me. I've been to
+Europe, I have, and I guess I know the difference between a fire-engine
+and a clothes horse. Uncle Sam indeed!"</p>
+
+<p>"I must inspect the contents of that bag," said the official firmly. "If
+you resist it will be confiscated."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what confiscated means," returned the Unwiseman valiantly,
+"but any man who goes through this bag of mine goes through me first.
+I'm sittin' on the lock, Mr. Maginnis, and I don't intend to move&mdash;no,
+not if you try to blast me away. A man's carpet-bag is his castle and
+don't you forget it."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter here?" demanded a policeman, who had overheard the
+last part of this little quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing much," said the Unwiseman. "This gentleman here in the
+messenger boy's clothes says he's the President o' the United States,
+Congress, the Supreme Court, and the Army and Navy, all rolled into one,
+thinking that by so doing he can get hold of my carpet-bag. That's all.
+Anybody can see by lookin' at him that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> ain't even the Department of
+Agriculture. The United States Government! Really it makes me laugh."</p>
+
+<p>Here the Unwiseman grinned broadly, and the Policeman and the official
+joined in.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a new kind of a smuggler, officer," said Mr. Maginnis, "or at
+least he acts like one. I caught him trotting off with that bag under
+his arm, and he refuses to let me inspect it."</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't a smuggler!" retorted the Unwiseman indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have to let him look through the bag, Mister," said the
+Policeman. "He's a Custom House Inspector and nobody's allowed to take
+in baggage of any sort that hasn't been inspected."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the law?" asked the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," said the Policeman.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the idea of it?" demanded the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Well the United States Government makes people pay a tax on things that
+are made on the other side," explained the Inspector. "That's the way
+they make the money to pay the President's salary and the other running
+expenses of the Government."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;that's it, eh?" said the Unwiseman. "Well you'd ought to have told
+me that in the beginning. I didn't know the Government needed money to
+pay the President. I thought all it had to do was to print all it
+needed. Of course if the President's got to go without his money unless
+I help pay, I'll be only too glad to do all I can to make up the amount
+you're short. He earns every penny of it, and it isn't fair to make him
+wait for it. About how much do you need to even it up? I've only got
+four dollars left and I'm afraid I'll have to use a little of it myself,
+but what's left over you're welcome to, only I'd like the President to
+know I chipped in. How much does he get anyhow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Seventy-five thousand dollars," said the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"And there are 80,000,000 people in the country, ain't there?" asked the
+Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"About that?" said the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"So that really my share comes to&mdash;say four and a quarter thousandths of
+a cent&mdash;that it?" demanded the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"Something like that," laughed the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"Well then," said the Unwiseman, taking a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> copper coin from his pocket,
+"here's a cent. Can you change it?"</p>
+
+<p>"We don't do business that way," said the Inspector impatiently. "We
+examine your baggage and tax that&mdash;that's all. If you refuse to let us,
+we confiscate the bag, and fine you anywhere from $100 to $5000. Now
+what are you going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"What he says is true," said the Policeman, "and I'd advise you to save
+trouble by opening up the bag."</p>
+
+<p>"O well of course if <i>you</i> say so I'll do it, but I think it's mighty
+funny just the same," said the Unwiseman, rising from the carpet-bag and
+handing it over to the Inspector. "In the first place it's not polite
+for an entire stranger to go snooping through a gentleman's carpet-bag.
+In the second place if the Secretary of the Treasury hasn't got enough
+money on hand when pay-day comes around he ought to state the fact in
+the newspapers so we citizens can hustle around and raise it for him
+instead of being held up for it like a highwayman, and in the third
+place it's very extravagant to employ a man like Mr. Maginnis here for
+three dollars a week or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> whatever he gets, just to collect four and a
+quarter thousandths of a cent. I don't wonder there ain't any money in
+the treasury if that's the way the Government does business."</p>
+
+<p>So the inspection of the Unwiseman's carpet bag began. The first thing
+the Inspector found upon opening that wonderful receptacle was "French
+in Five Lessons."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a book," replied the Unwiseman. "It teaches you how to talk
+French in five easy lessons."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you pay for it?" asked the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't pay anything for it," said the Unwiseman. "I found it."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think it's worth?" queried the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," said the Unwiseman. "That is, all the French I got out of it
+came to about that. It may have been first class looking French, but
+when I came to use it on French people they didn't seem to recognize it,
+and it had a habit of fading away and getting lost altogether, so as far
+as I'm concerned it ain't worth paying duty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> on. If you're going to tax
+me for that you can confisticate it and throw it at the first cat you
+want to scare off your back-yard fence."</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" asked the Inspector, taking a small tin box out of the
+bag.</p>
+
+<p>"Ginger-snaps, two bananas and an eclair," said the Unwiseman. "I shan't
+pay any duty on them because I took 'em away with me when I left home."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know whether I can let them in duty-free or not," said the
+Inspector, with a wink at the Policeman.</p>
+
+<p>"Well I'll settle that in a minute," said the Unwiseman, and reaching
+out for the tin-box in less than two minutes he had eaten its contents.
+"You can't tax what ain't, can you?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," said the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"Well then those ginger-snaps ain't, and the bananas ain't and the
+eclair ain't, so there you are," said the Unwiseman triumphantly. "Go on
+with your search, Uncle Sammy. You haven't got much towards the
+President's salary yet, have you!"</p>
+
+<p>The Inspector scorned to reply, and after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> rummaging about in the bag
+for a few moments, he produced a small box of macaroni.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess we'll tax you on this," he said. "What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bait," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"I call it macaroni," said the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"You can call it what you please," said the Unwiseman. "I call it
+bait&mdash;and it's no good. I can dig better bait than all the macaroni in
+the world in my back yard. I fish for fish and not for Eye-talians, so I
+don't need that kind. If I can't keep it without paying taxes for it,
+confisticate it and eat it yourself. I only brought it home as a
+souvenir of Genoa anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want it," said the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"Then give it to the policeman," said the Unwiseman. "I tell you right
+now I wouldn't pay five cents to keep a piece of macaroni nine miles
+long. Be careful the way you handle that sailor suit of mine. I had it
+pressed in London and I want to keep the creases in the trousers just
+right the way the King wears his."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you buy them?" asked the Inspector, holding the duck trousers
+up in the air.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Right here in this town before I stole on board the <i>Digestic</i>," said
+the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"American made, are they?" asked the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "You can tell that by lookin' at 'em. They're
+regular canvas-back ducks with the maker's name stamped on the buttons."</p>
+
+<p>Closer inspection of the garment proved the truth of the Unwiseman's
+assertion and the Inspector proceeded.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you make any purchases abroad?" he asked. "Clothes or jewels or
+something?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't buy any clothes at all," said the Unwiseman. "I did ask the
+price of a Duke's suit and a Knight gown, but I didn't buy either of
+them. You don't have to pay duty on a request for information, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are sure you didn't buy any?" repeated the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite sure," said the Unwiseman. "A slight misunderstanding with the
+King combined with a difference of opinion with his tailor made it
+unnecessary for me to lay in a stock of royal raiment. And the same
+thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> prevented my buying any jewels. If I'd decided to go into the
+Duke business I probably should have bought a few diamond rings and a
+half a dozen tararas to wear when I took breakfast with the roil family,
+but I gave that all up when I made up my mind to remain a farmer.
+Tararas and diamond rings kind of get in your way when you're pulling
+weeds and planting beets, so why should I buy them?"</p>
+
+<p>"How about other things?" asked the Inspector. "You say you've been
+abroad all summer and haven't bought anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't say anything of the sort," said the Unwiseman. "I bought a lot
+of things. In London I bought a ride in a hansom cab, in Paris I bought
+a ride in a one horse fakir, and in Venice I bought a ride in a
+Gandyola. I bought a large number of tarts and plates of ice cream in
+various places. I bought a couple of souvenir postal cards to send to
+Columbus's little boy. In Switzerland I didn't buy anything because the
+things I wanted weren't for sale such as pet shammys and Alps and
+Glaziers and things like that. There's only two things that I can
+remember that maybe ought to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> taxed. One of 'em's an air gun to shoot
+alps with and the others a big alpen-stock engraved with a red hot iron
+showing what mountains I didn't climb. The Alpen-stock I used as a fish
+pole in Venice and lost it because my hook got stuck in an artist's
+straw hat, but the air gun I brought home with me. You can tax it if you
+want to, but I warn you if you do I'll give it to you and then you'll
+have to pay the tax yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Having delivered himself of this long harangue, the Unwiseman, quite out
+of breath, sat down on Mollie's trunk and waited for new developments.
+The Inspector apparently did not hear him, or if he did paid no
+attention. The chances are that the Unwiseman's words never reached his
+ears, for to tell the truth his head was hidden way down deep in the
+carpet-bag. It was all of three minutes before he spoke, and then with
+his face all red with the work he drew his head from the bag and,
+gasping for air observed, wonderingly:</p>
+
+<p>"I can't find anything else but a lot of old bottles in there. What
+business are you in anyhow?" he asked. "Bottles and rags?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am a collector," said the Unwiseman, with a great deal of dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;after all I guess we'll have to let you in free," said the
+Inspector, closing the bag with a snap and scribbling a little mark on
+it with a piece of chalk to show that it had been examined. "The
+Government hasn't put any tax on old bottles and junk generally so
+you're all right. If all importers were like you the United States would
+have to go out of business."</p>
+
+<p>"Junk indeed!" cried the Unwiseman, jumping up wrathfully. "If you call
+my bottles junk I'd like to know what you'd say to the British Museum.
+That's a scrap heap, alongside of this collection of mine, and I don't
+want you to forget it!"</p>
+
+<p>And gathering his belongings together the Unwiseman in high dudgeon
+walked off the pier while the Inspector and the Policeman watched him go
+with smiles on their faces so broad that if they'd been half an inch
+broader they would have met behind their necks and cut their heads off.</p>
+
+<p>"I never was so insulted in my life," said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> Unwiseman, as he told
+Mollie about it in the carriage going up to the train that was to take
+them back home. "He called that magnificent collection of mine junk."</p>
+
+<p>"What was there in it?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait until we get home and I'll show you," said the Unwiseman. "It's
+the finest collection of&mdash;well just wait and see. I'm going to start a
+Museum up in my house that will make that British Museum look like
+cinder in a giant's eye. How did you get through the Custom House?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very nicely," said Mollie. "The man wanted me to pay duty on
+Whistlebinkie at first, because he thought he was made in Germany, but
+when he heard him squeak he let him in free."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think so," said the Unwiseman. "There's no German in his
+squeak. He couldn't get a medium sized German word through his hat. If
+he could I think he'd drive me crazy. Just open the window will you
+while I send this wireless message to the President."</p>
+
+<p>"To the President?" cried Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I want him to know I'm home in the first place, and in the second
+place I want to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> tell him that the next time he wants to collect his
+salary from me, I'll take it as a personal favor if he'll come himself
+and not send Uncle Sam Maginnis after it. I can stand a good deal for my
+country's sake but when a Custom House inspector prys into my private
+affairs and then calls them junk just because the President needs a four
+and a quarter thousandth of a cent, it makes me very, very angry. It's
+been as much as I could do to keep from saying 'Thunder' ever since I
+landed, and that ain't the way an American citizen ought to feel when he
+comes back to his own beautiful land again after three months' absence.
+It's like celebrating a wanderer's return by hitting him in the face
+with a boot-jack, and I don't like it."</p>
+
+<p>The window was opened and with much deliberation the Unwiseman
+despatched his message to the President, announcing his return and
+protesting against the tyrannous behavior of Mr. Maginnis, the Custom
+House Inspector, after which the little party continued on their way
+until they reached their native town. Here they separated, Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie going to their home and the Unwiseman to the queer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> little
+house that he had left in charge of the burglar at the beginning of the
+summer.</p>
+
+<p>"If I ever go abroad again," said the Unwiseman at parting, "which I
+never ain't going to do, I'll bring a big Bengal tiger back in my bag
+that ain't been fed for seven weeks, and then we'll have some fun when
+Maginnis opens the bag!"</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="XV" id="XV">XV.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>HOME, SWEET HOME</h3>
+
+<p>"Hurry up and finish your breakfast, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie the
+next morning after their return from abroad. "I want to run around to
+the Unwiseman's House and see if everything is all right. I'm just crazy
+to know how the burglar left the house."</p>
+
+<p>"I-mall-ready," whistled Whistlebinkie. "I-yain't-very-ungry."</p>
+
+<p>"Lost your appetite?" asked Mollie eyeing him anxiously, for she was a
+motherly little girl and took excellent care of all her playthings.</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," said Whistlebinkie. "I always do lose my appetite after eating
+three plates of oat-meal, four chops, five rolls, six buckwheat cakes
+and a couple of bananas."</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy! How do you hold it all, Whistlebinkie?" said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;I'm made o'rubber and my stummick is very 'lastic," explained
+Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>So hand in hand the little couple made off<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> down the road to the
+pleasant spot where the Unwiseman's house stood, and there in the front
+yard was the old gentleman himself talking to his beloved boulder, and
+patting it gently as he did so.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 355px;"><a name="ILL_012" id="ILL_012"></a>
+<img src="images/ill_012.jpg" width="355" height="500" alt="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;I&#39;M NEVER GOING TO LEAVE YOU AGAIN, BOLDY,&quot; HE WAS SAYING</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I'm never going to leave you again, Boldy," he was saying to the rock
+as Mollie and Whistlebinkie came up. "It is true that the Rock of
+Gibraltar is bigger and broader and more terrible to look at than you
+are but when it comes right down to business it isn't any harder or to
+my eyes any prettier. You are still my favorite rock, Boldy dear, so you
+needn't be jealous." And the old gentleman bent over and kissed the
+boulder softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning," said Mollie, leaning over the fence. "Whistlebinkie and
+I have come down to see if everything is all right. I hope the
+kitchen-stove is well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well the house is here, and all the bric-a-brac, and the leak has grown
+a bit upon the ceiling, and the kitchen-stove is all right thank you,
+but I'm afraid that old burgular has run off with my umbrella," said the
+Unwiseman. "I can't find a trace of it anywhere."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You don't really think he has stolen it do you?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what to think," said the Unwiseman, shaking his head
+gravely. "He had first class references, that burgular had, and claimed
+to have done all the burguling for the very nicest people in the country
+for the last two years, but these are the facts. He's gone and the
+umbrella's gone too. I suppose in the burgular's trade like in
+everything else you some times run across one who isn't as honest as he
+ought to be. Occasionally you'll find a burgular who'll take things that
+don't belong to him and it may be that this fellow that took my house
+was one of that kind&mdash;but you never can tell. It isn't fair to judge a
+man by disappearances, and it is just possible that the umbrella got
+away from him in a heavy storm. It was a skittish sort of a creature
+anyhow and sometimes I've had all I could do in windy weather to keep it
+from running away myself. What do you think of my sign?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see any sign," said Mollie, looking all around in search of the
+object. "Where is it?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"O I forgot," laughed the old gentleman gaily. "It's around on the other
+side of the house&mdash;come on around and see it."</p>
+
+<p>The callers walked quickly around to the rear of the Unwiseman's house,
+and there, hanging over the kitchen door, was a long piece of board upon
+which the Unwiseman had painted in very crooked black letters the
+following words:</p>
+
+<h4>THE BRITISH MUSEUM JUNIOR</h4>
+
+<p class="center">Admishun ten cents.     Exit fifteen cents.</p>
+
+<p class="center">Burgulars one umbrella.</p>
+
+<h4>THE FINEST COLECTION OF ALPS AND SOFORTHS</h4>
+
+<h4>ON EARTH.</h4>
+
+<h4>CHILDREN AND RUBER DOLLS FREE ON SATIDYS.</h4>
+
+<p>"Dear me&mdash;how interesting," said Mollie, as she read this remarkable
+legend, "but&mdash;what does it mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"It means that I've started a British Museum over here," said the
+Unwiseman, "only mine is going to be useful, instead of merely
+ornamental like that one over in London. For twenty-five cents a man can
+get a whole European trip in my Museum without getting on board of a
+steamer. I only charge ten cents to come in so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> as to get people to
+come, and I charge fifteen cents to get out so as to make 'em stay until
+they have seen all there is to be seen. People get awfully tired
+travelling abroad, I find, and if you make it too easy for them to run
+back home they'll go without finishing their trip. I charge burgulars
+one umbrella to get in so that if my burgular comes back he'll have to
+make good my loss, or stay out."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you let children and rubber dolls in free?" asked Mollie,
+reading the sign over a second time.</p>
+
+<p>"I wrote that rule to cover you and old Squizzledinkie here," said the
+old gentleman, with a kindly smile at his little guests. "Although it
+really wasn't necessary because I don't charge any admission to people
+who come in the front door and you could always come in that way. That's
+the entrance to my home. The back-door I charge for because it's the
+entrance to my museum, don't you see?"</p>
+
+<p>"Clear as a blue china alley," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in and see the exhibit," said the Unwiseman proudly.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And then as Mollie and Whistlebinkie entered the house their eyes fell
+upon what was indeed the most marvellous collection of interesting
+objects they had ever seen. All about the parlor were ranged row upon
+row of bottles, large and small, each bearing a label describing its
+contents, with here and there mysterious boxes, and broken tumblers and
+all sorts of other odd things that the Unwiseman had brought home in his
+carpet-bag.</p>
+
+<p>"Bottle number one," said he, pointing to the object with a cane, "is
+filled with Atlantic Ocean&mdash;real genuine briny deep&mdash;bottled it myself
+and so I know there's nothing bogus about it. Number two which looks
+empty, but really ain't, is full of air from the coast of Ireland,
+caught three miles out from Queenstown by yours trooly, Mr. Me. Number
+three, full of dust and small pebbles, is genuine British soil gathered
+in London the day they put me out of the Museum. 'Tain't much to look
+at, is it?" he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin' extra," said Whistlebinkie, inspecting it with a critical air
+after the manner of one who was an expert in soils.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not compared to American soil anyhow," said the Unwiseman. "This hard
+cake in the tin box is a 'Muffin by Special Appointment to the King,'"
+he went on with a broad grin. "I went in and bought one after we had our
+rumpus in the bake-shop, just for the purpose of bringing it over here
+and showing the American people how vain and empty roilty has become. It
+is not a noble looking object to my eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"Mine neither," whistled Whistlebinkie. "It looks rather stale."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "And that's the only roil thing about it.
+Passing along rapidly we come soon to a bottleful of the British
+Channel," he resumed. "In order to get the full effect of that very
+conceited body of water you want to shake it violently. That gives you
+some idea of how the water works. It's tame enough now that I've got it
+bottled but in its native lair it is fierce. You will see the
+instructions on the bottle."</p>
+
+<p>Sure enough the bottle was labeled as the Unwiseman said with full
+instructions as to how it must be used.</p>
+
+<p>"Shake for fifteen minutes until it is all roiled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> up and swells around
+inside the bottle like a tidal wave," the instructions read. "You will
+then get a small idea of how this disagreeable body of water behaves
+itself in the presence of trusting strangers."</p>
+
+<p>"Here is my bottle of French soil," said the Unwiseman, passing on to
+the next object. "It doesn't look very different from English soil but
+it's French all right, as you would see for yourself if it tried to
+talk. I scooped it up myself in Paris. There's the book&mdash;French in Five
+Lessons&mdash;too. That I call 'The French Language,' which shows people who
+visit this museum what a funny tongue it is. That pill box full of sand
+is a part of the Swiss frontier and the small piece of gravel next to it
+is a piece of an Alp chipped off Mount Blanc by myself, so that I know
+it is genuine. It will give the man who has never visited
+Swaz&mdash;well&mdash;that country, a small idea of what an Alp looks like and
+will correct the notion in some people's minds that an Alp is a wild
+animal with a long hairy tail and the manners of a lion. The next two
+bottles contain all that is left of a snow-ball I gathered in at
+Chamouny, and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> chip of the Mer de Glace glazier. They've both melted
+since I bottled them, but I'll have them frozen up again all right when
+winter comes, so there's no harm done."</p>
+
+<p>"What's this piece of broken china on the table?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"That is a fragment of a Parisian butter saucer," said the Unwiseman.
+"One of the waiters fell down stairs with somebody's breakfast at our
+hotel in Paris one morning while we were there," he explained, "and I
+rescued that from the debris. It is a perfect specimen of a broken
+French butter dish."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it's very interesting," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well to tell you the truth, I don't either, but you've got to remember,
+my dear, that this is a British Museum and the one over in London is
+chuck full of broken china, old butter plates and coffee cups from all
+over everywhere, and I don't want people who care for that sort of thing
+to be disappointed with my museum when they come here. Take that plaster
+statue of Cupid that I bought in Venice&mdash;I only got that to please
+people who care for statuary."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Where is it?" asked Mollie, searching the room with her eye for the
+Cupid.</p>
+
+<p>"I've spread it out through the Museum so as to make it look more like a
+collection," said the Unwiseman. "I got a tack-hammer as soon as I got
+home last night and fixed it up. There's an arm over on the
+mantel-piece. His chest and left leg are there on top of the piano,
+while his other arm with his left ear and right leg are in the kitchen.
+I haven't found places for his stummick and what's left of his head yet,
+but I will before the crowd begins to arrive."</p>
+
+<p>"Why Mr. Me!" protested Mollie, as she gazed mournfully upon the scraps
+of the broken Cupid. "You didn't really smash up that pretty little
+statue?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I did, Mollie," said the Unwiseman sadly. "I hated to do it,
+but this is a Museum my dear, and when you go into the museum business
+you've to do it according to the rules. One of the rules seems to be 'No
+admission to Unbusted Statuary,' and I've acted accordingly. I don't
+want to deceive anybody and if I gave even to my kitchen-stove the idea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>
+that these first class museums over in Europe have anything but
+fractures in them&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Fragments, isn't it?" suggested Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all the same," said the Unwiseman, "Fractures or fragments, there
+isn't a complete statue anywhere in any museum that I ever saw, and in
+educating my kitchen-stove in Art I'm going to follow the lead of the
+experts."</p>
+
+<p>"Well I don't see the use of it," sighed Mollie, for she had admired the
+pretty little plaster Cupid very much indeed.</p>
+
+<p>"No more do I, Mollie dear," said the Unwiseman, "but rules are rules
+and we've got to obey them. This is the Grand Canal at Venice," he added
+holding up a bottle full of dark green water in order to change the
+subject. "And here is what I call a Hoople-fish from the Adriatic."</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth is a Hoople-fish?" cried Mollie with a roar of laughter
+as she gazed upon the object to which the Unwiseman referred, an old
+water soaked strip of shingley wood.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the barrel hoop I caught that day I went fishing from the hotel
+balcony," explained the Unwiseman. "I wish I'd kept the artist's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> straw
+hat I landed at the same time for a Hat-fish to complete my collection
+of Strange Shad From Venice, but of course that was impossible. The
+artist seemed to want it himself and as he had first claim to it I
+didn't press the matter. The barrel-hoop will serve however to warn
+Americans who want to go salmon fishing on the Grand Canal just what
+kind of queer things they'll catch if they have any luck at all."</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" asked Whistlebinkie, peering into a little tin pepper pot
+that appeared to contain nothing but sand.</p>
+
+<p>"You must handle that very carefully," said the Unwiseman, taking it in
+one hand, and shaking some of the sand out of it into the palm of the
+other. "That is the birth-place of Christopher Columbus, otherwise the
+soil of Genoa. I brought home about a pail-ful of it, and I'm going to
+have it put up in forty-seven little bottles to send around to people
+that would appreciate having it. One of 'em is to go to the President to
+be kept on the White House mantel-piece in memory of Columbus, and the
+rest of them I shall distribute to the biggest Museums in each one of
+the United States. I don't think any State<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> in the Union should be
+without a bottle of Columbus birth-place, in view of all that he did for
+this country by discovering it. There wouldn't have been any States at
+all of it hadn't been for him, and it strikes me that is a very simple
+and touching way of showing our gratitude."</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly fine!" cried Mollie enthusiastically. "I don't believe
+there's another collection like this anywhere in all the world, do you?"
+she added, sweeping the room with an eye full of wondering admiration
+for the genius that had gathered all these marvellous things together.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I really don't," said the Unwiseman. "And just think what a fine
+thing it will be for people who can't afford to travel," he went on.
+"For twenty-five cents they can come here and see everything we
+saw&mdash;except a few bogus kings and things like that that ain't really
+worth seeing&mdash;from the French language down to the Venetian Hoople-fish,
+from an Alp and a Glazier to a Specially Appointed Muffin to the King
+and Columbus's birth-place. I really think I shall have to advertise it
+in the newspapers. A Trip Abroad Without Leaving Home, All for a
+Quarter, at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> the Unwiseman's Museum. Alps a Specialty."</p>
+
+<p>"Here's a couple of empty bottles," said Whistlebinkie, who had been
+snooping curiously about the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "I've more than that. I'm sorry to say that
+some of my exhibits have faded away. The first one was filled with
+London fog, and as you remember I lost that when the cork flew out the
+day they dejected me from the British Museum. That other bottle when I
+put the cork in it contained a view of Gibraltar and the African Coast
+through the port-hole of the steamer, but it's all faded out, just as
+the bird's-eye view of the horizon out in the middle of the ocean that I
+had in a little pill bottle did. There are certain things you can't keep
+even in bottles&mdash;but I shall show the Gibraltar bottle just the same. A
+bottle of that size that once contained that big piece of rock and the
+African Coast to boot, is a wonderful thing in itself."</p>
+
+<p>In which belief Mollie and Whistlebinkie unanimously agreed.</p>
+
+<p>"Was the kitchen-stove glad to see you back?" asked Whistlebinkie.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;it didn't say very much," said the Unwiseman, with an
+affectionate glance out into the kitchen, "but when I filled it up with
+coal, and started the fire going, it was more than cordial. Indeed
+before the evening was over it got so very warm that I had to open the
+parlor windows to cool it off."</p>
+
+<p>"It's pretty nice to be home again, isn't it," said Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Nice?" echoed the old gentleman. "I can just tell you, Miss Mollie
+Whistlebinkie, that the finest thing I've seen since I left home, finer
+than all the oceans in the world, more beautiful than all the Englands
+in creation, sweeter than all the Frances on the map, lovelier than any
+Alp that ever poked its nose against the sky, dearer than all the
+Venices afloat&mdash;the greatest, most welcome sight that ever greeted my
+eyes was my own brass front door knob holding itself out there in the
+twilight of yesterday to welcome me home and twinkling in the fading
+light of day like a house afire as if to show it was glad to see me
+back. That's why the minute I came into the yard I took off my hat and
+knelt down before that old brass knob and kissed it."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The old man's voice shook just a little as he spoke, and a small
+teardrop gathered and glistened in a corner of his eye&mdash;but it was a
+tear of joy and content, not of sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>"And then when I turned the knob and opened the door," he went on,
+"well&mdash;talk about your Palaces with all their magnificent shiny floors
+and gorgeous gold framed mirrors and hall-bedrooms as big as the Madison
+Square Garden&mdash;they couldn't compare to this old parlor of mine with the
+piano over on one side of the room, the refrigerator in the other, the
+leak beaming down from the ceiling, and my kitchen-stove peeking in
+through the door and sort of keeping an eye on things generally. And not
+a picture in all that 9643 miles of paint at the Loover can hold a
+candle to my beloved old Washington Crossing the Delaware over my
+mantel-piece, with the British bombarding him with snow-balls and the
+river filled to the brim with ice-bergs&mdash;no sirree! And best of all,
+nobody around to leave their aitches all over the place for somebody
+else to pick up, or any French language to take a pretty little bird and
+turn it into a wazzoh, or to turn a good honest hard boiled egg into an
+oof, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> everybody from Me myself down to the kitchen-stove using the
+good old American language whenever we have something to say and holding
+our tongues in the same when we haven't."</p>
+
+<p>"Hooray for us!" cried Whistlebinkie, dancing with glee.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I say," said the Unwiseman. "America's good enough for me
+and I'm glad I'm back."</p>
+
+<p>"Well I feel the same way," said Mollie. "I liked Europe very much
+indeed but somehow or other I like America best."</p>
+
+<p>"And for a very good reason," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>"Because it's Home," said the Unwiseman.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess-thassit," said Whistlebinkie.</p>
+
+<p>"Well don't guess again, Fizzledinkie," said the Unwiseman, "because
+that's the answer, and if you guessed again you might get it wrong."</p>
+
+<p>And so it was that Mollie and the Unwiseman and Whistlebinkie finished
+their trip abroad, and returned better pleased with Home than they had
+ever been before, which indeed is one of the greatest benefits any of us
+get out of a trip<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> to Europe, for after all that fine old poet was right
+when he said:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;">"East or West</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;">Home is best."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>In closing I think I ought to say that the Unwiseman's umbrella turned
+up in good order the next morning, and where do you suppose?</p>
+
+<p>Why up on the roof where the kind-hearted burglar had placed it to
+protect the Unwiseman's leak from the rain!</p>
+
+<p>So he seems to have been a pretty honest old burglar after all.</p>
+
+<h4>THE END.</h4>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mollie and the Unwiseman Abroad, by 
+John Kendrick Bangs
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+</body>
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+Project Gutenberg's Mollie and the Unwiseman Abroad, by John Kendrick Bangs
+
+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/license
+
+
+Title: Mollie and the Unwiseman Abroad
+
+Author: John Kendrick Bangs
+
+Illustrator: Grace G. Weiderseim
+
+Release Date: May 23, 2012 [EBook #39778]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOLLIE AND THE UNWISEMAN ABROAD ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from
+scanned images of public domain material from the Internet
+Archive.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Book Cover]
+
+
+
+
+MOLLIE AND
+THE UNWISEMAN ABROAD
+
+
+
+
+_HOLIDAY EDITIONS_
+_of_
+_JUVENILE CLASSICS_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN
+By George Macdonald
+
+      _Twelve full-page illustrations in color, and the original wood
+      engravings. Decorated chapter-headings and lining-papers.
+      Ornamental cloth, $1.50._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE
+By George Macdonald
+
+      _Twelve full page illustrations in color, and decorated
+      chapter-headings and lining-papers. Ornamental cloth, $1.50._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND
+By George Macdonald
+
+      _Twelve full-page illustrations in color. Decorated
+      chapter-headings and lining-papers. Cloth, ornamental, $1.50._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DOG OF FLANDERS
+By "Ouida"
+
+      _Illustrated with full-page color plates, and decorated
+      chapter-headings and lining-papers. Cloth, ornamental, $1.50._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+Publishers Philadelphia
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "I'VE BEEN TRYING TO FIND OUT HOW TO TIE A SINKER TO THIS
+SOUP"--_Page 47_]
+
+
+
+
+MOLLIE AND THE
+UNWISEMAN
+ABROAD
+
+BY
+JOHN KENDRICK BANGS
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY_
+GRACE G. WIEDERSEIM
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PHILADELPHIA & LONDON
+J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+1910
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT 1910
+BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+TO
+MY FRIENDS THE CHILDREN
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER       PAGE
+         FOREWORD                                                     11
+           Introducing Two Heroes and a Heroine.
+     I.  MOLLIE, WHISTLEBINKIE, AND THE UNWISEMAN                     13
+    II.  THE START                                                    31
+   III.  AT SEA                                                       48
+    IV.  ENGLAND                                                      64
+     V.  A CALL ON THE KING                                           81
+    VI.  THEY GET SOME FOG AND GO SHOPPING                            98
+   VII.  THE UNWISEMAN VISITS THE BRITISH MUSEUM                     114
+  VIII.  THE UNWISEMAN'S FRENCH                                      130
+    IX.  IN PARIS                                                    147
+     X.  THE ALPS AT LAST                                            163
+    XI.  THE UNWISEMAN PLANS A CHAMOIS COMPANY                       178
+   XII.  VENICE                                                      194
+  XIII.  GENOA, GIBRALTAR, AND COLUMBUS                              211
+   XIV.  AT THE CUSTOM HOUSE                                         228
+    XV.  HOME, SWEET HOME                                            245
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+  "I've Been Trying to Find Out How to Tie a Sinker
+      to this Soup"                                       _Frontispiece_
+  "Take Care of Yourself, Fizzledinkie, and don't Blow too much
+      through the Top of Your Hat"                                    29
+  Molly Makes Her Courtesy to Mr. King                                88
+  "These are the Kind His Majesty Prefers," said the girl            104
+  "Have You Seen the Ormolu Clock of Your Sister's Music Teacher?"   154
+  "Out the Way There!" cried the Unwiseman                           168
+  The Chamois Evidently Liked this Verse for its Eyes Twinkled       182
+  They all Boarded a Gondola                                         199
+  The Unwiseman Looked the Official Coldly in the Eye                229
+  "I'm Never Going to Leave You Again, Boldy," he was saying         246
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+INTRODUCING TWO HEROES AND A HEROINE
+
+
+I.
+
+  There were three little folks, and one was fair--
+    Oh a rare little maid was she.
+  Her eyes were as soft as the summer air,
+    And blue as the summer sea.
+  Her locks held the glint of the golden sun;
+    And her smile shed the sweets of May;
+  Her cheek was of cream and roses spun,
+    And dimpled the livelong day.
+
+II.
+
+  The second, well he was a rubber-doll,
+    Who talked through a whistling hat.
+  His speech ran over with folderol,
+    But his jokes they were never flat.
+  He squeaked and creaked with his heart care-free
+    Such things as this tale will tell,
+  But whether asleep or at work was he
+    The little maid loved him well.
+
+III.
+
+  The third was a man--O a very queer man!
+    But a funny old chap was he.
+  From back in the time when the world began
+    His like you never did see.
+  The things he'd "know," they were seldom so,
+    His views they were odd and strange,
+  And his heart was filled with the genial glow
+    Of love for his kitchen range.
+
+IV.
+
+  Now the three set forth on a wondrous trip
+    To visit the lands afar;
+  And what befel on the shore, and ship,
+    As she sailed across the bar,
+  These tales will make as plain as the day
+    To those who will go with me
+  And follow along in the prank and play
+    Of these, my travellers three.
+
+
+
+
+I.
+
+MOLLIE, WHISTLEBINKIE, AND THE UNWISEMAN
+
+
+Mollie was very much excited, and for an excellent reason. Her Papa had
+at last decided that it was about time that she and her Rubber-Doll,
+Whistlebinkie, saw something of this great big beautiful world, and had
+announced that in a few weeks they would all pack their trunks and set
+sail for Europe. Mollie had always wanted to see Europe, where she had
+been told Kings and Queens still wore lovely golden crowns instead of
+hats, like the fairies in her story-book, and the people spoke all sorts
+of funny languages, like French, and Spanish, and real live Greek. As
+for Whistlebinkie, he did not care much where he went as long as he was
+with Mollie, of whom like the rest of the family he was very fond.
+
+"But," said he, when he was told of the coming voyage, "how about Mr.
+Me?"
+
+Now Mr. Me was a funny old gentleman who lived in a little red house not
+far away from Mollie's home in the country. He claimed that his last
+name was Me, but Mollie had always called him the Unwiseman because
+there was so much he did not know, and so little that he was willing to
+learn. The little girl loved him none the less for he was a very good
+natured old fellow, and had for a long time been a play-mate of the two
+inseparable companions, Mollie and Whistlebinkie. The latter by the way
+was called Whistlebinkie because whenever he became excited he blew his
+words through the small whistle in the top of his hat, instead of
+speaking them gently with his mouth, as you and I would do.
+
+"Why, we'll have to invite him to go along, too, if he can afford it,"
+said Mollie. "Perhaps we'd better run down to his house now, and tell
+him all about it."
+
+"Guess-sweed-better," Whistlebinkie agreed through the top of his
+beaver, as usual.
+
+And so the little couple set off down the hill, and were fortunate
+enough to find the old gentleman at home.
+
+"Break it to him gently," whispered Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I will," answered Mollie, under her breath, and then entering the
+Unwiseman's house she greeted him cheerily. "Good Morning, Mr. Me," she
+said.
+
+"Is it?" asked the old gentleman, looking up from his newspaper which he
+was reading upside-down. "I haven't tasted it yet. I never judge a day
+till it's been cooked."
+
+"Tasted it?" laughed Mollie. "Can't you tell whether a morning is good
+or not without tasting it?"
+
+"O I suppose you can if you want to," replied the Unwiseman. "If you
+make up your mind to believe everything you see, why you can believe a
+morning's good just by looking at it, but I prefer to taste mine before
+I commit myself as to whether they are good or bad."
+
+"Perfly-'bsoyd!" chortled Whistlebinkie through the top of his hat.
+
+"What's that?" cried Mollie.
+
+"Still talks through his hat, doesn't he," said the Unwiseman. "Must
+think it's one of these follytones."
+
+"Never-erd-o-sutcha-thing!" whistled Whistlebinkie. "What's a
+follytone?"
+
+"You _are_ a niggeramus," jeered the Unwiseman. "Ho! Never heard of a
+follytone. Ain't he silly, Mollie?"
+
+"I don't think I ever heard of one either, Mr. Unwiseman," said Mollie.
+
+"Well-well-well," ejaculated the Unwiseman in great surprise. "Why a
+follytone is one of those little boxes you have in the house with a
+number like 7-2-3-J-Hokoben that you talk business into to some feller
+off in Chicago or up in Boston. You just pour your words into the box
+and they fall across a wire and go scooting along like lightning to this
+person you're talkin' to."
+
+"Oh," laughed Mollie. "You mean a telephone."
+
+"I call 'em follytones," said the Unwiseman coolly. "Your voice sounds
+so foolish over 'em. I never tried 'em but once"--here the old man began
+to chuckle. "Somebody told me Philadelphia wanted me, and of course I
+knew right away they were putting up a joke on me because I ain't never
+met Philadelphia and Philadelphia ain't never met me, so I just got a
+little squirt gun and filled it up with water and squirted it into the
+box. I guess whoever was trying to make me believe he was Philadelphia
+got a good soaking that time."
+
+"I guess-smaybe-he-didn't," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well he didn't get me anyhow," snapped the Unwiseman. "You don't catch
+me sending my voice to Philadelphia when the chances are I may need it
+any minute around here to frighten burgulars away with. The idea of a
+man's being so foolish as to send his voice way out to Chicago on a wire
+with nobody to look after it, stumps me. But that ain't what we were
+talking about."
+
+"No," said Mollie gravely. "We were talking about tasting days. You said
+you cooked them, I believe."
+
+"That's what I said," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"I never knew anybody else to do it," said Mollie. "What do you do it
+for?"
+
+"Because I find raw days very uncomfortable," explained the Unwiseman.
+"I prefer fried-days."
+
+"Everyday'll be Friday by and by," carolled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"It will with me," said the old man. "I was born on a Friday, I was
+never married on a Friday, and I dyed on Friday."
+
+"You never died, did you?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Of course I did," said the Unwiseman. "I used to have perfectly red
+hair and I dyed it gray so that young people like old Squeaky-hat here
+would have more respect for me."
+
+"Do-choo-call-me-squeekyat!" cried Whistlebinkie angrily.
+
+"All right, Yawpy-tile, I won't--only----" the Unwiseman began.
+
+"Nor-yawpy-tile-neither," whistled Whistlebinkie, beginning to cry.
+
+"Here, here!" cried the Unwiseman. "Stop your crying. Just because
+you're made of rubber and are waterproof ain't any reason for throwing
+tears on my floor. I won't have it. What do you want me to call you,
+Wheezikid?"
+
+"No," sobbed Whistlebinkie. "My name's--Whizzlebinkie."
+
+"Very well then," said the Unwiseman. "Let it be Fizzledinkie----only
+you must show proper respect for my gray hairs. If you don't I'll have
+had all my trouble dyeing for nothing."
+
+Whistlebinkie was about to retort, but Mollie perceiving only trouble
+between her two little friends if they went on at this rate tried to
+change the subject by going back to the original point of discussion.
+"How do you taste a day to see if it's all right?" she asked.
+
+"I stick my tongue out the window," said the Unwiseman, "and it's a good
+thing to do. I remember once down at the sea-shore a young lady asked me
+if I didn't think it was just a sweet day, and I stuck my tongue out of
+the window and it was just as salt as it could be. Tasted like a pickle.
+'No, ma'am, it ain't,' says I. 'Quite the opposite, it's quite briny,'
+says I. If I'd said it was sweet she'd have thought I was as much of a
+niggeramus as old Fizz----"
+
+"Do you always read your newspaper upside-down?" Mollie put in hastily
+to keep the Unwiseman from again hurting Whistlebinkie's feelings.
+
+"Always," he replied. "I find it saves me a lot of money. You see the
+paper lasts a great deal longer when you read it upside-down than when
+you read it upside-up. Reading it upside-up you can go through a
+newspaper in about a week, but when you read it upside-down it lasts
+pretty nearly two months. I've been at work on that copy of the
+_Gazette_ six weeks now and I've only got as far as the third column of
+the second page from the end. I don't suppose I'll reach the news on the
+first column of page one much before three weeks from next Tuesday. I
+think it's very wasteful to buy a fresh paper every day when by reading
+it upside-down backwards you can make the old one last two months."
+
+"Do-bleeve-youkn-reada-tall," growled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"What's that?" cried the old man.
+
+"I-don't-be-lieve-you-can-read-at-all!" said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"O as for that," laughed the old man, "I never said I could. I don't
+take a newspaper to read anyhow. What's the use? Fill your head up with
+a lot of stuff it's a trouble to forget."
+
+"What _do_ you take it for?" asked Mollie, amazed at this confession.
+
+"I'm collecting commas and Qs," said the Unwiseman. "I always was fond
+of pollywogs and pug-dogs, and the commas are the living image of
+pollywogs, and the letter Q always reminds me of a good natured pug-dog
+sitting down with his back turned toward me. I've made a tally sheet of
+this copy of the _Gazette_ and so far I've found nine thousand and
+fifty-three commas, and thirty-nine pugs."
+
+Whistlebinkie forgot his wrath in an explosion of mirth at this reply.
+He fairly rolled on the floor with laughter.
+
+"Don't be foolish, Fizzledinkie," said the Unwiseman severely. "A good Q
+is just as good as a pug-dog. He's just as fat, has a fine curly tail
+and he doesn't bite or keep you awake nights by barking at the moon or
+make a nuisance of himself whining for chicken-bones while you are
+eating dinner; and as far as the commas are concerned they're better
+even than pollywogs, because they don't wiggle around so much or turn
+into bull-frogs and splash water all over the place."
+
+"There-raintenny-fleeson-cues-sneether," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I didn't catch that," said the Unwiseman. "Talk through your nose just
+once and maybe I'll be able to guess what you're trying to say."
+
+"He says there are not any fleas on Qs," said Mollie with a reproving
+glance at Whistlebinkie.
+
+"As to that I can't say," said the Unwiseman. "I never saw any--but
+anyhow I don't object to fleas on pug-dogs."
+
+"You don't?" cried Mollie. "Why they're horrid, Mr. Unwiseman. They bite
+you all up."
+
+"Perfly-awful," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"You're wrong about that," said the Unwiseman. "They don't bite you at
+all while they're on the pug-dog. It's only when they get on you that
+they bite you. That's why I say I don't mind 'em on the pug-dogs. As
+long as they stay there they don't hurt me."
+
+Here the Unwiseman rose from his chair and walking across the room
+opened a cupboard and taking out an old clay pipe laid it on one of the
+andirons where a log was smouldering in the fire-place.
+
+"I always feel happier when I'm smoking my pipe," he said resuming his
+seat and smiling pleasantly at Mollie.
+
+"Put it in the fire-place to warm it?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Of course not, Stupid," replied the Unwiseman scornfully. "I put it in
+the fire-place to smoke it. That's the cheapest and healthiest way to
+smoke a pipe. I don't have to buy any tobacco to keep it filled, and as
+long as I leave it over there on the andiron I don't get any of the
+smoke up my nose or down my throat. I tried it the other way once and
+there wasn't any fun in it that I could see. The smoke got in all my
+flues and I didn't stop sneezing for a week. It was dreadful, and once
+or twice I got scared and sent for the fire-engines to put me out. I was
+so full of smoke it seemed to me I must be on fire. It wasn't so bad the
+first time because the firemen just laughed and went away, but the
+second time they came they got mad at what they called a second false
+alarm and turned the hose on me. I tell you I was very much put out when
+they did that, and since that time I've given up smoking that way. I
+never wanted to be a chimney anyhow. What's the use? If you're going to
+be anything of that sort it's a great deal better to be an oven so that
+some kind cook-lady will keep filling you up with hot-biscuits, and
+sponge-cake, and roast turkey."
+
+"I should think so," said Mollie. "That's one of the nice things about
+being a little girl----you're not expected to smoke."
+
+"Well I don't know about that," said the Unwiseman. "Far as I can
+remember I never was a little girl so I don't know what was expected of
+me as such, but as far as I'm concerned I'm perfectly willing to let the
+pipe get smoked in the fire-place, and keep my mouth for expressing
+thoughts and eating bananas and eclairs with, and my throat for giving
+three cheers on the Fourth of July, and swallowing apple pie. That's
+what they were made for and hereafter that's what I'm going to use 'em
+for. Where's Miss Flaxilocks?"
+
+Miss Flaxilocks was Mollie's little friend and almost constant
+companion, the French doll with the deepest of blue eyes and the richest
+of golden hair from which she got her name.
+
+"She couldn't come to-day," explained Mollie.
+
+"Stoo-wexited," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"What's that?" asked the Unwiseman. "Sounds like a clogged-up
+radiator."
+
+"He means to say that she is too excited to come," said Mollie. "The
+fact is, Mr. Unwiseman, we're all going abroad----"
+
+"Abroad?" demanded the Unwiseman. "Where's that?"
+
+"Hoh!" jeered Whistlebinkie. "Doesn't know where abroad is!"
+
+"How should I know where abroad is?" retorted the Unwiseman. "I never
+had any. What is it anyhow? A new kind of pie?"
+
+"No," laughed Mollie. "Abroad is Europe, and England and----"
+
+"And Swizz-izzer-land," put in Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Swizz-what?" cried the Unwiseman.
+
+"Switzerland," said Mollie. "It's Switzerland, Whistlebinkie."
+
+"Thass-watised, Swizz-izzerland," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"What's the good of them?" asked the Unwiseman.
+
+"O they're nice places to visit," said Mollie.
+
+"Do you walk there?" asked the Unwiseman.
+
+"No--of course not," said Mollie with a smile. "They're thousands of
+miles away, across the ocean."
+
+"Across the ocean?" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "Mercy! Ain't the ocean
+that wet place down around New Jersey somewhere?"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "The Atlantic Ocean."
+
+"Humph!" said the Unwiseman. "How you going to get across? There ain't
+any bridges over it, are there?"
+
+"No indeed," said Mollie.
+
+"Nor no trolleys?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+Mollie's reply was a loud laugh, and Whistlebinkie whistled with glee.
+
+"Going in a balloon, I suppose," sneered the Unwiseman. "That is all of
+you but old Sizzerinktum here. I suppose he's going to try and jump
+across. Smart feller, old Sizzerinktum."
+
+"I ain't neither!" retorted Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Ain't neither what--smart?" said the Unwiseman.
+
+"No--ain't goin' to jump," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Good thing too," observed the Unwiseman approvingly. "If you did you'd
+bounce so high when you landed that _I_ don't believe you'd ever come
+down."
+
+"We're going in a boat," said Mollie. "Not a row boat nor a sail boat,"
+she hastened to explain, "but a great big ocean steamer, large enough to
+carry over a thousand people, and fast enough to cross in six days."
+
+"Silly sort of business," said the Unwiseman. "What's the good of going
+to Europe and Swazzoozalum--or whatever the place is--when you haven't
+seen Albany or Troy, or New Rochelle and Yonkers, or Michigan and
+Patterson?"
+
+"O well," said Mollie, "Papa's tired and he's going to take a vacation
+and we're all going along to help him rest, and Flaxilocks is so excited
+about going back to Paris where she was born that I have had to keep her
+in her crib all the time to keep her from getting nervous
+procrastination."
+
+"I see," said the Unwiseman. "But I don't see why if people are tired
+they don't stay home and go to bed. That's the way to rest. Just lie in
+bed a couple of days without moving."
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "But Papa needs the salt air to brace him up."
+
+"What of it?" demanded the Unwiseman. "Can't you get salt air without
+going across the ocean? Seems to me if you just fill up a pillow with
+salt and sleep on that, the way you do on one of those pine-needle
+pillows from the Dadirondacks, you'd get all the salt air you wanted, or
+build a salt cellar under your house and run pipes from it up to your
+bedroom to carry the air through."
+
+"It wouldn't be the same, at all," said Mollie. "Besides we're going to
+see the Alps."
+
+"Oh--that's different. Of course if you're going to see the Alps that's
+very different," said the Unwiseman. "I wouldn't mind seeing an Alp or
+two myself. I always was interested in animals. I've often wondered why
+they never had any Alps at the Zoo."
+
+"I guess they're too big to bring over," said Mollie gravely.
+
+"Maybe so, but even then if they catch 'em young I don't see," began the
+Unwiseman.
+
+Whistlebinkie's behavior at this point was such that Mollie, fearing a
+renewal of the usual quarrel between her friends ran hastily on to the
+object of their call and told the Unwiseman that they had come to bid
+him good-bye.
+
+"I wish you were going with us," she said as she shook the old
+gentleman's hand.
+
+"Thank you very much," he replied. "I suppose it would be nice, but I
+have too many other things to attend to and I don't see how I could
+spare the time. In the first place I've got all those commas and Qs to
+look after, and then if I went away there'd be nobody around to see that
+my pipe was smoked every day, or to finish up my newspaper. Likewise
+also too in addition the burgulars might get into my house some night
+while I was away and take the wrong things because I haven't been able
+yet to let 'em know just what I'm willing to have 'em run off with, so
+you see how badly things would get mixed if I went away."
+
+"I suppose they would," sighed Mollie.
+
+"There'd be nobody here to exercise my umbrella on wet days, either,"
+continued the old gentleman, "or to see that the roof leaked just right,
+or to cook my meals and eat 'em. No--I don't just see how I _could_
+manage it." And so the old gentleman bade his visitors good-bye.
+
+[Illustration: "TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, FIZZLEDINKIE, AND DON'T BLOW TOO
+MUCH THROUGH THE TOP OF YOUR HAT"]
+
+"Take care of yourself, Fizzledinkie," he observed to Whistlebinkie,
+"and don't blow too much through the top of your hat. I've heard of
+boats being upset by sudden squalls, and you might get the whole party
+in trouble by the careless use of that hat of yours."
+
+Mollie and her companion with many waves of their hands back at the
+Unwiseman made off up the road homeward. The old gentleman gazed after
+them thoughtfully for awhile, and then returned to his work on his
+newspaper.
+
+"Queer people--some of 'em," he muttered as he cut out his ninety-ninth
+Q and noted the ten-thousand-six-hundred-and-thirty-eighth comma on his
+pollywog tally sheet. "Mighty queer. With a country of their own right
+outside their front door so big that they couldn't walk around it in
+less than forty-eight hours, they've got to go abroad just to see an old
+Alp cavorting around in Whizzizalum or whatever else that place
+Whistlebinkie was trying to talk about is named. I'd like to see an Alp
+myself, but after all as long as there's plenty of elephants and
+rhinoceroses up at the Zoo what's the good of chasing around after other
+queer looking beasts getting your feet wet on the ocean, and having your
+air served up with salt in it?"
+
+And as there was nobody about to enlighten the old gentleman on these
+points he went to bed that night with his question unanswered.
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+THE START
+
+
+Other good byes had been said; the huge ocean steamer had drawn out of
+her pier and, with Mollie and Whistlebinkie on board, together with
+Flaxilocks and the rest of the family, made her way down the bay,
+through the Narrows, past Sandy Hook and out to sea. The long low lying
+shores of New Jersey, with their white sands and endless lines of villas
+and summer hotels had gradually sunk below the horizon and the little
+maid was for the first time in her life out of sight of land.
+
+"Isn't it glorious!" cried Mollie, as she breathed in the crisp fresh
+air, and tasted just a tiny bit of the salt spray of the ocean on her
+lip.
+
+"I guesso," whistled Whistlebinkie, with a little shiver.
+"Think-ide-like-it-better-'fwe-had-alittle-land-in-sight."
+
+"O no, Whistlebinkie," returned Mollie, "it's a great deal safer this
+way. There are rocks near the shore but outside here the water is ever
+so deep--more'n six feet I guess. I'd be perfectly happy if the
+Unwiseman was only with us."
+
+Just then up through one of the big yawning ventilators, that look so
+like sea-serpents with their big flaming mouths stretched wide open as
+if to swallow the passengers on deck, came a cracked little voice
+singing the following song to a tune that seemed to be made up as it
+went along:
+
+                "Yo-ho!
+                Yo-ho--
+    O a sailor's life for me!
+          I love to nail
+          The blithering gale,
+    As I sail the bounding sea.
+  For I'm a glorious stowaway,
+  I've thrown my rake and hoe away,
+  On the briny deep to go away,
+    Yeave-ho--Yeave-ho--Yo-hee!"
+
+"Where have I heard that voice before!" cried Mollie clutching
+Whistlebinkie by the hand so hard that he squeaked.
+
+"It's-sizz!" whistled Whistlebinkie excitedly.
+
+"It's what?" cried Mollie.
+
+"It's-his!" repeated Whistlebinkie more correctly.
+
+"Whose--the Unwiseman's?" Mollie whispered with delight.
+
+"Thass-swat-I-think," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+And then the song began again drawing nearer each moment.
+
+                "Yeave-ho,
+                Yo-ho,
+    O I love the life so brave.
+          I love to swish
+          Like the porpoise fish
+    Over the foamy wave.
+  So let the salt wind blow-away,
+  All care and trouble throw-away,
+  And lead the life of a Stowaway
+    Yeave-ho--Yeave-ho--Yo-hee!"
+
+"It is he as sure as you're born, Whistlebinkie!" cried Mollie in an
+ecstacy of delight. "I wonder how he came to come."
+
+"I 'dno," said Whistlebinkie. "I guess he's just went and gone."
+
+As Whistlebinkie spoke sure enough, the Unwiseman himself clambered out
+of the ventilator and leaped lightly on the deck alongside of them still
+singing:
+
+                "Yeave-ho,
+                Yo-ho,
+    I love the At-lan-tic.
+          The water's wet
+          And you can bet
+    The motion makes me sick.
+  But let the wavelets flow away
+  You cannot drive the glow away
+  From the heart of the happy Stowaway.
+    Yeave-ho--Yeave-ho--Yo-hee!"
+
+Dear me, what a strange looking figure he was as he jumped down and
+greeted Mollie and Whistlebinkie! In place of his old beaver hat he wore
+a broad and shiny tarpaulin. His trousers which were of white duck
+stiffly starched were neatly creased down the sides, ironed as flat as
+they could be got, nearly two feet wide and as spick and span as a
+snow-flake. On his feet he wore a huge pair of goloshes, and thrown
+jauntily around his left shoulder and thence down over his right arm to
+his waist was what appeared to be a great round life preserver, filled
+with air, and heavy enough to support ten persons of his size.
+
+"Shiver my timbers if it ain't Mollie!" he roared as he caught sight of
+her. "And Whistlebinkie too--Ahoy there, Fizzledinkie. What's the good
+word?"
+
+"Where on earth did you come from?" asked Mollie overjoyed.
+
+"I weighed anchor in the home port at seven bells last night; set me
+course nor-E by sou-sou-west, made for the deep channel running past the
+red, white and blue buoy on the starboard tack, reefed my galyards in
+the teeth o' the blithering gale and sneaked aboard while Captain Binks
+of the good ship _Nancy B._ was trollin' for oysters off the fishin'
+banks after windin' up the Port watch," replied the Unwiseman. "It's a
+great life, ain't it," he added gazing admiringly about him at the
+wonderful ship and then over the rail at the still more wonderful ocean.
+
+"But how did you come to come?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Well--ye see after you'd said good-bye to me the other day, I was sort
+of upset and for the first time in my life I got my newspaper right side
+up and began to read it that way," the old gentleman explained. "And I
+fell on a story of the briny deep in which a young gentleman named Billy
+The Rover Bold sailed from the Spanish main to Kennebunkport in a dory,
+capturing seventeen brigs, fourteen galleons and a pirate band on the
+way. It didn't say fourteen galleons of what, but thinkin' it might be
+soda water, it made my mouth water to think of it, so I decided to rent
+my house and come along. About when do you think we'll capture any
+Brigs?"
+
+"You rented your house?" asked Mollie in amazement.
+
+"Yes--to a Burgular," said the Unwiseman. "I thought that was the best
+way out of it. If the burgular has your house, thinks I, he won't break
+into it, spoiling your locks, or smashing your windows and doors. What
+he's got likewise moreover he won't steal, so the best thing to do is to
+turn everything over to him right in the beginning and so save your
+property. So I advertised. Here it is, see?" And the Unwiseman produced
+the following copy of his advertisement.
+
+  FOR TO BE LET
+  ONE FIRST CLASS PREMISSES
+  ALL MODDERN INCONVENIENCES
+  HOT AND COAL GAS
+  SIXTEEN MILES FROM POLICE STATION
+  POSESSION RIGHT AWAY OFF
+  ONLY BURGULARS NEED APPLY.
+
+  Address, The Unwiseman, At Home.
+
+"One of 'em called the next night and he's taken the house for six
+months," the Unwiseman went on. "He's promised to keep the house clean,
+to smoke my pipe, look after my Qs and commas, eat my meals regularly,
+and exercise the umbrella on wet days. It was a very good arrangement
+all around. He was a very nice polite burgular and as it happened had a
+lot of business he wanted to attend to right in our neighborhood. He
+said he'd keep an eye on your house too, and I told him about how to get
+in the back way where the cellar window won't lock. He promised for sure
+he'd look into it."
+
+"Very kind of him I'm sure," said Mollie dubiously.
+
+"You'd have liked him very much--nicest burgular I ever met. Had real
+taking ways," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"Howd-ulike-being-outer-sighter-land?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Who, me?" asked the Unwiseman. "I wouldn't like it at all. I took
+precious good care that I shouldn't be neither."
+
+"Nonsense," said Mollie. "How can you help yourself?"
+
+"This way," said the Unwiseman with a proud smile of superiority, taking
+a bottle from his pocket. "See that?" he added.
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "What is it?"
+
+"It's land, of course," replied the Unwiseman, holding the bottle up in
+the light. "Real land off my place at home. Just before I left the house
+it occurred to me that it would be pleasant to have some along and I
+took a shovel and went out and got a bottle full of it. It makes me feel
+safer to have the land in sight all the way over and then it will keep
+me from being homesick when I'm chasing those Alps down in Swazoozalum."
+
+"Swizz-izzerland!" corrected Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Swit-zer-land!" said Mollie for the instruction of both. "It's not
+Swazoozalum, or Swizziz-zerland, but Switzerland."
+
+"O I see--rhymes with Hits-yer-land--when the Alp he hits your land,
+then you think of Switzerland--that it?" asked the Unwiseman.
+
+"Well that's near enough," laughed Mollie. "But how does that bottle
+keep you from being homesick?"
+
+"Why--when I begin to pine for my native land, all I've got to do is to
+open the bottle and take out a spoonful of it. 'This is my own, my
+native land,' the Poet said, and when I look at this bottle so say I.
+Right out of my own yard, too," said the Unwiseman, hugging the bottle
+tightly to his breast. "It's queer isn't it how I should find out how to
+travel so comfortably without having to ask anybody."
+
+"I guess you're a genius," suggested Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Maybe I am," agreed the Unwiseman, "but anyhow you know I just knew
+what to do as soon as I made up my mind to come along."
+
+Mollie looked at him admiringly.
+
+"Take these goloshes for instance. I'm the only person on board this
+boat that's got goloshes on," continued the old gentleman, "and yet if
+the boat went down, how on earth could they keep their feet dry? It's
+all so simple. Same way with this life preserver--it's nothing but an
+old bicycle tire I found in your barn, but just think what it would mean
+to me if I should fall overboard some day."
+
+"Smitey-fine!" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"It is that. All I'll have to do is to sit inside of it and float till
+they lower a boat after me," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"What have you done about getting sea-sick?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Ah--that's the thing that bothered me as much as anything," ejaculated
+the Unwiseman, "but all of a sudden it came to me like a flash. I was
+getting my fishing tackle ready for the trip and when I came to the
+sinkers, there was the idea as plain as the nose on your face. Six days
+out, says I, means thirty-seven meals."
+
+"Thirty-seven?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Yes--three meals a day for six days is--," began the Unwiseman.
+
+"Only eighteen," said Mollie, who for a child of her size was very quick
+at multiplication.
+
+"So it is," said the Unwiseman, his face growing very red. "So it is. I
+must have forgotten to set down five and carry three."
+
+"Looks that way," said Whistlebinkie, with a mirthful squeak through the
+top of his hat. "What you did was to set down three and carry seven."
+
+"That's it," said the Unwiseman. "Three and seven make
+thirty-seven--don't it?"
+
+"Looked at sideways," said Mollie, with a chuckle.
+
+"I know I got it somehow," observed the Unwiseman, his smile returning.
+"So I prepared myself for thirty-seven meals. I brought a lead sinker
+along for each one of them. I'm going to tie one sinker to each meal to
+keep it down, and of course I won't be sea-sick at all. There was only
+one other way out of it that I could think of; that was to eat
+pound-cake all the time, but I was afraid maybe they wouldn't have any
+on board, so I brought the sinkers instead."
+
+"It sounds like a pretty good plan," said Whistlebinkie. "Where's your
+State-room?"
+
+"I haven't got one," said the Unwiseman. "I really don't need it,
+because I don't think I'll go to bed all the way across. I want to sit
+up and see the scenery. When you've only got a short time on the water
+and aren't likely to make a habit of crossing the ocean it's too bad to
+miss any of it, so I didn't take a room."
+
+"I don't think there's much scenery to be seen on the ocean," suggested
+Mollie. "It's just plain water all the way over."
+
+"O I don't think so," replied the Unwiseman. "I imagine from that story
+about Billy the Rover there's a lot of it. There's the Spanish main for
+instance. I want to keep a sharp look out for that and see how it
+differs from Bangor, Maine. Then once in a while you run across a
+latitude and a longitude. I've never seen either of those and I'm sort
+of interested to see what they look like. All I know about 'em is that
+one of 'em goes up and down and the other goes over and back--I don't
+exactly know how, but that's the way it is and I'm here to learn. I
+should feel very badly if we happened to pass either of 'em while I was
+asleep."
+
+"Naturally," said Mollie.
+
+"Then somewhere out here they've got a thing they call a horrizon, or a
+horizon, or something like that," continued the Unwiseman. "I've asked
+one of the sailors to point it out to me when we come to it, and he said
+he would. Funny thing about it though--he said he'd sailed the ocean for
+forty-seven years and had never got close enough to it to touch it.
+'Must be quite a sight close to,' I said, and he said that all the
+horrizons he ever saw was from ten to forty miles off. There's a place
+out here too where the waves are ninety feet high; and then there's the
+Fishin' Banks--do you know I never knew banks ever went fishin', did
+you? Must be a funny sight to see a lot o' banks out fishin'. What
+State-room are you in, Mollie?"
+
+"We've got sixty-nine," said Mollie.
+
+"Sixty-nine," demanded the Unwiseman. "What's that mean?"
+
+"Why it's the number of my room," explained Mollie.
+
+"O," said the Unwiseman scratching his head in a puzzled sort of way.
+"Then you haven't got a State-room?"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "It's a State-room."
+
+"I don't quite see," said the Unwiseman, gazing up into the air. "If
+it's a State-room why don't they call it New Jersey, or Kansas, or
+Mitchigan, or some other State? Seems to me a State-room ought to be a
+State-room."
+
+"I guess maybe there's more rooms on board than there are States,"
+suggested Whistlebinkie. "There ain't more than sixty States, are there,
+Mollie?"
+
+"There's only forty-six," said Mollie.
+
+"Ah--then that accounts for number sixty-nine," observed the Unwiseman.
+"They're just keeping a lot of rooms numbered until there's enough
+States to go around."
+
+"I hope we get over all right," put in Whistlebinkie, who wasn't very
+brave.
+
+"O I guess we will," said the Unwiseman, cheerfully. "I was speaking to
+that sailor on that very point this morning, and he said the chances
+were that we'd go through all right unless we lost one of the screws."
+
+"Screws?" inquired Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Yes--it don't sound possible, but this ship is pushed through the water
+by a couple of screws fastened in back there at the stern. It's the
+screws sterning that makes the boat go," the Unwiseman remarked with all
+the pride of one who really knows what he is talking about. "Of course
+if one of 'em came unfastened and fell off we wouldn't go so fast and if
+both of 'em fell off we wouldn't go at all, until we got the sails up
+and the wind came along and blew us into port."
+
+"Well I never!" said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"O I knew that before I came aboard," said the Unwiseman, sagely. "So I
+brought a half dozen screws along with me. There they are."
+
+And the old gentleman plunged his hand into his pocket and produced six
+bright new shining screws.
+
+"You see I'm ready for anything," he observed. "I think every passenger
+who takes one of these screwpeller boats--that's what they call 'em,
+screwpellers--ought to come prepared to furnish any number of screws in
+case anything happens. I'm not going to tell anybody I've got 'em
+though. I'm just holding these back until the Captain tells us the
+screws are gone, and then I'll offer mine."
+
+"And suppose yours are lost too, and there ain't any wind for the
+sails?" demanded Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I've got a pair o' bellows down in my box," said the Unwiseman
+gleefully. "We can sit right behind the sails and blow the whole
+business right in the teeth of a dead clam."
+
+"Dead what?" roared Mollie.
+
+"A dead clam," said the Unwiseman. "I haven't found out why they call it
+a dead clam--unless it's because it's so still--but that's the way we
+sailors refer to a time at sea when there isn't a handful o' wind in
+sight and the ocean is so smooth that even the billows are afraid to
+roll in it for fear they'd roll off."
+
+"We sailors!" ejaculated Whistlebinkie, scornfully under his breath.
+"Hoh!"
+
+"Well you certainly are pretty well prepared for whatever happens,
+aren't you, Mr. Unwiseman," said Mollie admiringly.
+
+"I like to think so," said the old gentleman. "There's only one thing
+I've overlooked," he added.
+
+"Wass-that?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I have most unaccountably forgotten to bring my skates along, and I'm
+sure I don't know what would happen to me without 'em if by some
+mischance we ran into an iceberg and I was left aboard of it when the
+steamer backed away," the Unwiseman remarked.
+
+Here the deck steward came along with a trayful of steaming cups of
+chicken broth.
+
+"Broth, ma'am," he said politely to Mollie.
+
+"Thank you," said Mollie. "I think I will."
+
+Whistlebinkie and the Unwiseman also helped themselves, and a few
+minutes later the Unwiseman disappeared bearing his cup in his hand. It
+was three hours after this that Mollie again encountered him, sitting
+down near the stern of the vessel, a doleful look upon his face, and the
+cup of chicken broth untasted and cold in his hands.
+
+"What's the matter, dearie?" the little girl asked.
+
+"O--nothing," he said, "only I--I've been trying for the past three
+hours to find out how to tie a sinker to this soup and it regularly
+stumps me. I can tie it to the cup, but whether it's the motion of the
+ship or something else, I don't know what, I can't think of swallowing
+_that_ without feeling queer here."
+
+And the poor old gentleman rubbed his stomach and looked forlornly out
+to sea.
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+AT SEA
+
+
+It was all of three days later before the little party of travellers met
+again on deck. I never inquired very closely into the matter but from
+what I know of the first thousand miles of the ocean between New York
+and Liverpool I fancy Mollie and Whistlebinkie took very little interest
+in anybody but themselves until they had got over that somewhat uneven
+stretch of water. The ocean is more than humpy from Nantucket Light on
+and travelling over it is more or less like having to slide over eight
+or nine hundred miles of scenic railroads, or bumping the bumps, not for
+three seconds, but for as many successive days, a proceeding which
+interferes seriously with one's appetite and gives one an inclination to
+lie down in a comfortable berth rather than to walk vigorously up and
+down on deck--though if you _can_ do the latter it is the very best
+thing in the world _to_ do. As for the Unwiseman all I know about him
+during that period is that he finally gave up his problem of how to tie
+a sinker to a half-pint of chicken broth, and diving head first into the
+ventilator through which he had made his first appearance on deck,
+disappeared from sight. On the morning of the fourth day however he
+flashed excitedly along the deck past where Mollie and Whistlebinkie
+having gained courage to venture up into Mollie's steamer chair were
+sitting, loudly calling for the Captain.
+
+"Hi-hullo!" called Mollie, as the old gentleman rushed by. "Mr.
+Me!"--Mr. Me it will be remembered by his friends was the name the
+Unwiseman had had printed on his visiting cards. "Mister Me--come here!"
+
+The Unwiseman paused for a moment.
+
+"I'm looking for the Captain," he called back. "I find I forgot to tell
+the burgular who's rented my house that he mustn't steal my kitchen
+stove until I get back, and I want the Captain to turn around and go
+back for a few minutes so that I can send him word."
+
+"He wouldn't do that, Mr. Me," said Mollie.
+
+"Then let him set me on shore somewhere where I can walk back," said the
+Unwiseman. "It would be perfectly terrible if that burgular stole my
+kitchen stove. I'd have to eat all my bananas and eclairs raw, and
+besides I use that stove to keep the house cool in summer."
+
+"There isn't any shore out here to put you on," said Mollie.
+
+"Where's your bottle of native land?" jeered Whistlebinkie. "You might
+walk home on that."
+
+"Hush, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie. "Don't make him angry."
+
+"Well," said the Unwiseman ruefully. "I'm sure I don't know what to do
+about it. It is the only kitchen stove I've got, and it's taken me ten
+years to break it in. It would be very unfortunate just as I've got the
+stove to do its work exactly as I want it done to go and lose it."
+
+"Why don't you send a wireless message?" suggested Mollie. "They've got
+an office on board, and you can telegraph to him."
+
+"First rate," said the old man. "I'd forgotten that." And the Unwiseman
+sat down and wrote the following dispatch:
+
+      DEAR MR. BURGULAR:
+
+      Please do not steal my kitchen stove. If you need a stove steal
+      something else like the telephone book or that empty bottle of
+      Woostershire Sauce standing on the parlor mantel-piece with the
+      daisy in it, and sell them to buy a new stove with the money. I've
+      had that stove for ten years and it has only just learned how to
+      cook and it would be very annoying to me to have to get a new one
+      and have to teach it how I like my potatoes done. You know the one
+      I mean. It's the only stove in the house, so you can't get it
+      mixed up with any other. If you do I shall persecute you to the
+      full extent of the law and have you arrested for petty parsimony
+      when I get back. If you find yourself strongly tempted to steal it
+      the best thing to do is to keep it red hot with a rousing fire on
+      its insides so that it will be easier for you to keep your hands
+      off.
+
+  Yours trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN.
+
+      P.S. Take the poker if you want to but leave the stove. It's a
+      wooden poker and not much good anyhow.
+
+  Yours trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN.
+
+"There!" he said as he finished writing out the message. "I guess
+that'll fix it all right."
+
+"It-tortoo," whistled Whistlebinkie through the top of his hat.
+
+"What?" said Mollie, severely.
+
+"It-ought-to-fix-it," repeated Whistlebinkie.
+
+And the Unwiseman ran up the deck to the wireless telegraph office. In a
+moment he returned, his face full of joy.
+
+"I guess I got the best of 'em that time!" he chortled gleefully. "What
+do you suppose Mollie? They actually wanted me to pay twenty-one
+dollars and sixty cents for that telegram. The very idea!"
+
+"Phe-ee-ew!" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Very far from few," retorted the Unwiseman. "It was many rather than
+few and I told the man so. 'I can buy five new kitchen stoves for that
+amount of money,' said I. 'I can't help that,' said the man. 'I guess
+you can't,' said I. 'If you could the price o' kitchen stoves would go
+up'."
+
+"What did you do?" asked Mollie.
+
+"I told him I was just as wireless as he was, and I tossed my message up
+in the air and last time I saw it it was flying back to New York as
+tight as it could go," said the Unwiseman. "I guess I can send a message
+without wires as well as anybody else. It's a great load off my mind to
+have it fixed, I can tell you," he added.
+
+"What have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last, Mr. Me?"
+asked Mollie, as her old friend seated himself on the foot-rest of her
+steamer chair.
+
+"O I've managed to keep busy," said the Unwiseman, gazing off at the
+rolling waves.
+
+Whistlebinkie laughed.
+
+"See-zick?" he whistled.
+
+"What me?" asked the Unwiseman. "Of course not--we sailors don't get
+sea-sick like land-lubbers. No, sirree. I've been a little miserable due
+to my having eaten something that didn't agree with me--I very foolishly
+ate a piece of mince pie about five years ago--but except for that I've
+been feeling first rate. For the most part I've been watching the screw
+driver--they've got a big steam screw driver down-stairs in the cellar
+that keeps the screws to their work, and I got so interested watching it
+I've forgotten all about meals and things like that."
+
+"Have you seen horrizon yet?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Yes," returned the Unwiseman gloomily. "It's about the stupidest thing
+you ever saw. See that long line over there where the sky comes down and
+touches the water?"
+
+"Yep," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well that's what they call the horrizon," said the Unwiseman
+contemptuously. "It's nothin' but a big circle runnin' round and round
+the scenery, day and night, now and forever. It won't go near anybody
+and it won't let anybody go near it. I guess it's just about the most
+unsociable fish that ever swam the sea. Speakin' about fish, what do you
+say to trollin' for a whale this afternoon?"
+
+"That would be fine!" cried Mollie. "Have you any tackle?"
+
+"Oh my yes," replied the Unwiseman. "I've got a half a mile o' trout
+line, a minnow hook and a plate full o' vermicelli."
+
+"Vermicelli?" demanded Mollie.
+
+"Yes--don't you know what Vermicelli is? It's sort of baby macaroni,"
+explained the Unwiseman.
+
+"What good is it for fishing?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I don't know yet," said the Unwiseman "but between you and me I don't
+believe if you baited a hook with it any ordinary fish who'd left his
+eyeglasses on the mantel-piece at home could tell it from a worm. I
+neglected to bring any worms along in my native land bottle, and I've
+searched the ship high and low without finding a place where I could dig
+for 'em, so I borrowed the vermicelli from the cook instead."
+
+"Does-swales-like-woyms?" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I don't know anything about swales," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"I meant-twales," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Never heard of a twale neither," retorted the Unwiseman. "Just what
+sort of a rubber fish is a twale?"
+
+"He means whales," Mollie explained.
+
+"Why don't he say what he means then?" said the Unwiseman scornfully. "I
+never knew such a feller for twisted talk. He ties a word up into a
+double bow knot and expects everybody to know what he means right off
+the handle. I don't know whether whales like vermicelli or not. Seems to
+me though that a fish that could bite at a disagreeable customer like
+Jonah would eat anything whether it was vermicelli or just plain
+catterpiller."
+
+"Well even if they did you couldn't pull 'em aboard with a trout line
+anyhow," snapped Whistlebinkie. "Whales is too heavy for that."
+
+"Who wants to pull 'em aboard, Smarty?" retorted the Unwiseman. "I leave
+it to Mollie if I ever said I wanted to pull 'em aboard. Quite the
+contrary opposite. I'd rather not pull a whale on board this boat and
+have him flopping around all over the deck, smashing chairs and windows,
+and knockin' people overboard with his tail, and spouting water all over
+us like that busted fire-hose the firemen turned on me when I thought
+I'd caught fire from my pipe."
+
+"You did say you'd take us fishing for whales, Mr. Me," Mollie put in
+timidly.
+
+"That's a very different thing," protested the Unwiseman. "Fishin' for
+whales is a nice gentle sport as long as you don't catch any. But of
+course if you're going to take his side against me, why you needn't go."
+
+And the Unwiseman rose up full of offended dignity and walked solemnly
+away.
+
+"Dear me!" sighed Mollie. "I'm so sorry he's angry."
+
+"Nuvver-mind," whistled Whistlebinkie. "He won't stay mad long. He'll be
+back in a little while with some more misinformation."
+
+Whistlebinkie was right, for in five minutes the old gentleman returned
+on the run.
+
+"Hurry up, Mollie!" he cried. "The sailor up on the front piazza says
+there's a school of Porpoises ahead. I'm going to ask 'em some
+questions."
+
+Mollie and Whistlebinkie sprang quickly from the steamer chairs and
+hurried along after the Unwiseman.
+
+"I've heard a lot about these Schools of Fish," the Unwiseman observed
+as they all leaned over the rail together. "And I never believed there
+was such a thing, because all the fish I ever saw were pretty
+stupid--leastways there never were any of them could answer any of the
+questions I put to 'em. That may have been because being out o' water
+they were very uncomfortable and feelin' kind of stiff and bashful, but
+out here it ought to be different and I'm going to examine 'em and see
+what they're taught."
+
+"Here they come!" cried Mollie, as a huge gathering of porpoises
+plunging and tumbling over each other appeared under the lee of the
+vessel. "My what a lot!"
+
+"Hi there, Porpy!" shouted the Unwiseman. "Por-pee, come over here a
+minute. What will seven times eight bananas divided by three mince pies
+multiplied by eight cream cakes, subtracted from a Monkey with two tails
+leave?"
+
+The old man cocked his head to one side as if trying to hear the answer.
+
+"Don't hear anything, do you?" he asked in a moment.
+
+"Maybe they didn't hear you," suggested Mollie.
+
+"Askem-something-geezier," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Something easier?" sniffed the Unwiseman. "There couldn't be anything
+easier than that. It will leave a very angry monkey. You just try to
+subtract something from a monkey some time and you'll see. However it is
+a long question so I'll give 'em another."
+
+The old gentleman leaned forward again and addressing the splashing fish
+once more called loudly out:
+
+"If that other sum is too much for you perhaps some one of you can tell
+me how many times seven divided by eleven is a cat with four kittens,"
+he inquired.
+
+Still there was no answer. The merry creatures of the sea were
+apparently too busy jumping over each other and otherwise indulging in
+playful pranks in the water.
+
+"They're mighty weak on Arithmetic, that's sure," sneered the Unwiseman.
+"I guess I'll try 'em on jography. Hi there, Porpee--you big black one
+over there--where's Elmira, New York?"
+
+The Porpoise turned a complete somersault in the air and disappeared
+beneath the water.
+
+"Little Jackass!" growled the Unwiseman. "Guess he hasn't been going to
+school very long not to be able to say that Elmira, New York, is at
+Elmira, New York. Maybe we'll have better luck with that deep blue
+Porpoise over there. Hi-you-you blue Porpoise. What's the chief product
+of the lunch counter at Poughkeepsie?"
+
+Again the Unwise old head was cocked to one side to catch the answer but
+all the blue porpoise did was to wiggle his tail in the air, as he
+butted one of his brother porpoises in the stomach. The Unwiseman looked
+at them with an angry glance.
+
+"Well all I've got to say about you," he shouted, "is that your father
+and mother are wasting their money sending you to school!"
+
+To which one of the Porpoises seemed to reply by sticking his head up
+out of the crest of a wave and sneezing at the Unwiseman.
+
+"Haven't even learned good manners!" roared the old gentleman.
+
+Whereupon the whole school indulged in a mighty scrimmage in the water
+jumping over, under and upon each other and splashing the spray high in
+the air until finally Whistlebinkie in his delight at the sight cried
+out,
+
+"I-guess-sitz-the-football-team!"
+
+"I guess for once you're right, Whistlebinkie," cried the Unwiseman.
+"And that accounts for their not knowing anything about 'rithmetic,
+jography or Elmira. When a feller's a foot-ball player he don't seem to
+care much for such higher education as the Poughkeepsie lunch counter,
+or how many is five. I knew the boys were runnin' foot-ball into the
+ground on land, but I never imagined the fish were running it into the
+water at sea. Too bad--too bad."
+
+And again the Unwiseman took himself off and was not seen again the rest
+of the day. Nor did Mollie and Whistlebinkie see much of him for the
+rest of the voyage for the old fellow suddenly got it into his head
+that possibly there were a few undiscovered continents about, the first
+sight of which would win for him all of the glory of a Christopher
+Columbus, and in order to be unquestionably the very first to catch
+sight of them, he climbed up to the top of the fore-mast and remained
+there for two full days. Fortunately neither the Captain nor the
+Bo'-sun's mate noticed what the old gentleman was doing or they would
+have put him in irons not as a punishment but to protect him from his
+own rash adventuring. And so it was that the Unwiseman was the first
+person on board to catch a glimpse of the Irish Coast, the which he
+announced with a loud cry of glee.
+
+"Land ho--on the starboard tack!" he cried, and then he slid down the
+mast-head and rushed madly down the deck crying joyfully, "I've
+discovered a continent. Hurray for me. I've discovered a continent."
+
+"Watcher-goin'-t'do-with it?" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Depends on how big it is," said the Unwiseman dancing gleefully. "If
+it's a great big one I'll write my name on it and leave it where it is,
+but if it's only a little one I'll dig it up and take it home and add it
+to my back yard."
+
+But alas for the new Columbus! It soon turned out that his new discovery
+was only Ireland which thousands, not to say millions, had discovered
+long before he had, so that the glory which he thought he had won soon
+faded away. But the old gentleman was very amiable about it after he got
+over his first disappointment.
+
+"I don't care," he confided to Mollie later on. "There isn't anything in
+discovering continents anyway. Look at Columbus. He discovered America,
+but somebody else came along and took it away from him and as far as I
+can find out he don't even own an abandoned farm in the United States
+to-day. So what's the good?"
+
+"Thass-wat-I-say," whistled Whistlebinkie. "I wouldn't give seven cents
+to discover all the continents there is. I'd ruther be a live rubber
+doll than a dead dishcover anyhow."
+
+Later in the afternoon when the ship had left Queenstown, Mollie found
+the Unwiseman sitting in her steamer chair hidden behind a copy of the
+London _Times_ which had been brought aboard, and strange to relate he
+had it right-side up and was eagerly running through its massive
+columns.
+
+"Looking for more pollywogs?" the little girl asked.
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman. "I'm trying to find the latest news from
+America. I want to see if that burgular has stole my stove. So far there
+don't seem to be anything about it here, so the chances are it's still
+safe."
+
+"Do you think they'd cable it across?" asked Mollie.
+
+"What the stove?" demanded the Unwiseman. "You can't send a stove by
+cable, stupid."
+
+"No--the news," said Mollie. "It wouldn't be very important, would it?"
+
+"It would be important to me," said the Unwiseman, "and inasmuch as I
+bought and paid for their old paper I've got a right to expect 'em to
+put the news I want in it. If they don't I'll sue 'em for damages and
+buy a new stove with the money."
+
+The next morning bright and early the little party landed in England.
+
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+ENGLAND
+
+
+The Unwiseman's face wore a very troubled look as the little party of
+travellers landed at Liverpool. He had doffed his sailor's costume and
+now appeared in his regular frock coat and old fashioned beaver hat, and
+carried an ancient carpet-bag in his hand, presenting to Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie a more familiar appearance than while in his sea-faring
+clothes, but he was evidently very much worried about something.
+
+"Cheer up," whistled Whistlebinkie noting his careworn expression. "You
+look as if you were down to your last cream-cake. Wass-er-matter?"
+
+"I think they've fooled us," replied the Unwiseman with a doubtful shake
+of his gray head. "This don't look like England to me, and I've been
+wondering if that ship mightn't be a pirate ship after all that's
+carried us all off to some strange place with the idea of thus getting
+rid of us, so that the Captain might go home and steal our
+kitchen-stoves and other voluble things."
+
+"Pooh!" ejaculated Whistlebinkie. "What makes you thinkit-taint
+England?"
+
+"It's too big in the first place," replied the Unwiseman, "and in the
+second it ain't the right color. Just look at this map and you'll see."
+
+Here Mr. Me took a map of the world out of his pocket and spread it out
+before Whistlebinkie.
+
+"See that?" he said pointing to England in one corner. "I've measured it
+off with a tape measure and it's only four inches long and about an inch
+and a half wide. This place we're in now is more'n five miles long and,
+as far as I can see two or three miles across. And look at the color on
+the map."
+
+"Tspink," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I don't know what you mean by tspink," said the Unwiseman, "but----"
+
+"It's-pink," explained Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Exactly," said the Unwiseman. "That's just what it is, but that ain't
+the color of this place. Seems to me this place is a sort of dull yellow
+dusty brown. And besides I don't see any houses on the map and this
+place is just chock-full of them."
+
+"O well, I guess it's all right," said Whistlebinkie. "Maybe when we get
+further in we'll find it grows pinker. Cities ain't never the same color
+as the country you know."
+
+"Possibly," said the Unwiseman, "but even then that wouldn't account for
+the difference in size. Why should the map say it's four inches by an
+inch and a half, when anybody can see that this place is five miles by
+three just by looking at it?"
+
+"I guess-smaybe it's grown some since that map was made," suggested
+Whistlebinkie. "Being surrounded by water you'd think it would grow."
+
+Just then a British policeman walked along the landing stage and
+Whistlebinkie added, "There's a p'liceman. You might speak to him about
+it."
+
+"Good idea," said the Unwiseman. "I'll do it." And he walked up to the
+officer.
+
+"Good morning, Robert," said he. "You'll pardon my curiosity, but is
+this England?"
+
+"Yessir," replied the officer politely. "You are on British soil, sir."
+
+"H'm! British, eh?" observed the Unwiseman. "Just what _is_ that?
+French for English, I suppose."
+
+"This is Great Britain, sir," explained the officer with a smile.
+"Hingland is a part of Great Britain."
+
+"Hingland?" asked the Unwiseman with a frown.
+
+"Yessir--this is Hingland, sir," replied the policeman, as he turned on
+his heel and wandered on down the stage leaving the Unwiseman more
+perplexed than when he had asked the question.
+
+"It looks queerer than ever," said the Unwiseman when he had returned to
+Whistlebinkie. "These people don't seem to have agreed on the name of
+this place, which I consider to be a very suspicious circumstance. That
+policeman said first it was England, then he said it was Great Britain,
+and then he changed it to Hingland, while Mollie's father says it's
+Liverpool. It's mighty strange, and I wish I was well out of it."
+
+"Why did you call the p'liceman Robert, Mr. Me?" asked Whistlebinkie,
+who somehow or other did not seem to share the old gentleman's fears.
+
+"O I read somewhere that the English policemen were all Bobbies," the
+Unwiseman replied. "But I didn't feel that I'd ought to be so familiar
+as to call him that until I'd got to know him better, so I just called
+him Robert."
+
+Later on Mollie explained the situation to the old fellow.
+
+"Liverpool," she said, "is a part of England and England is a part of
+Great Britain, just as Binghamton is a part of New York and New York is
+a part of the United States of America."
+
+"Ah--that's it, eh?" he answered. "And how about Hingland?"
+
+"That is the way some of the English people talk," explained Mollie. "A
+great many of them drop their H's," she added.
+
+"Aha!" said the Unwiseman, nodding his head. "I see. And the police go
+around after them picking them up, eh?"
+
+"I guess that's it," said Mollie.
+
+"Because if they didn't," continued the Unwiseman, "the streets and
+gutters would be just over-run with 'em. If 20,000,000 people dropped
+twenty-five H's apiece every day that would be 500,000,000 H's lyin'
+around. I don't believe you could drive a locomotive through that
+many--Mussy Me! It must keep the police busy pickin' 'em up."
+
+"Perfly-awful!" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I'm going to write a letter to the King about it," said the Unwiseman,
+"and send him a lot of rules like I have around my house to keep people
+from being so careless."
+
+"That's a splendid idea," cried Mollie, overjoyed at the notion. "What
+will you say?"
+
+"H'm!" said the Unwiseman. "Let me see--I guess I'd write like this:"
+and the strange old man sat down on a trunk and dashed off the following
+letter to King Edward.
+
+      DEAR MISTER KING:
+
+  Liverpool, June 10, 19--.
+
+      I understand that the people of your Island is very careless about
+      their aitches and that the pleece are worked to a frazzil pickin'
+      'em up from the public highways. Why don't you by virtue of your
+      exhausted rank propagate the following rules to unbait the
+      nuisance?
+
+      I. My subjex must be more careful of their aitches.
+
+      II. Any one caught dropping an aitch on the public sidewalks will
+      be fined two dollars.
+
+      III. Aitches dropped by accident must be picked up to once
+      immediately and without delay.
+
+      IV. All aitches found roaming about the city streets unaccompanied
+      by their owners will be promptly arrested by the pleece and kept
+      in the public pound until called for after which they will be
+      burnt, and the person calling for them fined two dollars.
+
+      V. All persons whether they be a pleeceman or a Dook or other
+      nobil personidges seeing a strange aitch lying on the sidewalk, or
+      otherwise roaming at random without any visible owner whether it
+      is his or not must pick it up to once immediately and without
+      delay under penalty of the law.
+
+      VI. Capital H's must be muzzled before took out in public and must
+      be securely fastened by glue or otherwise to the words they are
+      the beginning of.
+
+      VII. Anybody tripping up on the aitch of another person thus
+      carelessly left lying about can sue for damages and get two
+      dollars for a broken leg, five dollars for a broken nose, seven
+      dollars and a half for a black eye, and so on up, from the person
+      leaving the aitch thus carelessly about, or a year's imprisonment,
+      or both.
+
+      VIII. A second offense will be punished by being sent to South
+      Africa for five years when if the habit is continued more severe
+      means will be taken like being made to live in Boston or some
+      other icebound spot.
+
+      IX. School teachers catching children using aitches in this manner
+      will keep them in after school and notify their parents who will
+      spank them and send them to bed without their supper.
+
+      X. Pleecemen will report all aitches found on public streets to
+      the public persecutor and will be paid at the rate of six cents a
+      million for all they pick up.
+
+      I think if your madjesty will have these rules and regulations
+      printed on a blue pasteboard card in big red letters and hung up
+      all over everywhere you will be able, your h. r. h., to unbait
+      this terrible nuisance.
+
+  Yoors trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN.
+
+      P.S. It may happen, your h. r. h., that some of your subjex can't
+      help themselves in this aitch dropping habit, and it would
+      therefore be mercyful of you to provide letter boxes on all the
+      street cornders where they could drop their aitches into without
+      breaking the rules of your high and mighty highness.
+
+  Give my love to the roil family.
+  Yoors trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN.
+
+"There," he said when he had scribbled the letter off with his lead
+pencil. "If the King can only read that it ought to make him much
+obliged to me for helping him out of a very bad box. This Island ain't
+so big, map or no map, that they can afford to have it smothered in
+aitches as it surely will be if the habit ain't put a stop to. I wonder
+what the King's address is."
+
+"I don't know," said Whistlebinkie with a grin. "He and I ain't never
+called on each other yet."
+
+"Is King his last name or his first, I wonder," said the Unwiseman,
+scratching his head wonderingly.
+
+"His first name is Edward," said Mollie. "It used to be Albert Edward,
+but he dropped the Albert."
+
+"Edward what?" demanded the Unwiseman. "Don't they call him Edward
+Seventh?"
+
+"Yes they do," said Mollie.
+
+"Then I guess I'll address it to Edward S. King, Esquire, Number Seven,
+London--that's where all the kings live when they're home," said the
+Unwiseman.
+
+And so the letter went addressed to Edward S. King, Esquire, Number
+Seven, London, England, but whether His Majesty ever received it or not
+I do not know. Certainly if he did he never answered it, and that makes
+me feel that he never received it, for the King of England is known as
+the First Gentleman of Europe, and I am quite sure that one who deserves
+so fine a title as that would not leave a polite letter like the
+Unwiseman's unanswered. Mollie's father was very much impressed when he
+heard of the Unwiseman's communication.
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised if the King made him a Duke, for that," he
+said. "It is an act of the highest statesmanship to devise so simple a
+plan to correct so widespread an evil. If the Unwiseman were only an
+Englishman he might even become Prime Minister."
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman later, when Mollie told him what her father had
+said. "He couldn't make me Prime Minister because I haven't ever studied
+zoology and couldn't preach a sermon or even take up a collection
+properly, but as for being a Duke--well if he asked me as a special
+favor I might accept that. The Duke of Me--how would that sound,
+Mollie?"
+
+"Oh it would be perfectly beautiful!" cried Mollie overwhelmed by the
+very thought of anything so grand.
+
+"Or Baron Brains--eh?" continued the Unwiseman.
+
+"That would just suit you," giggled Whistlebinkie. "Barren Brains is you
+all over."
+
+"Thank you, Fizzledinkie," said the Unwiseman. "For once I quite agree
+with you. I guess I'll call on some tailor up in London and see what it
+would cost me to buy a Duke's uniform so's to be ready when the King
+sends for me. It would be fine to walk into his office with a linen
+duster on and have him say, 'From this time on Mister Me you're a Duke.
+Go out and get dressed for tea,' and then turn around three times, bow
+to the Queen, whisk off the duster and stand there in the roil presence
+with the Duke's uniform already on. I guess he'd say that was American
+enterprise all right."
+
+"You'd make a hit for sure!" roared Whistlebinkie dancing up and down
+with glee.
+
+"I'll do it!" ejaculated the Unwiseman with a look of determination in
+his eyes. "If I can get a ready-made Duke's suit for $8.50 I'll do it.
+Even if it never happened I could wear the suit to do my gardening in
+when I get home. Did your father say anything about this being England
+or not?"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "He said it was England all right. He's been here
+before and he says you can always tell it by the soldiers walking around
+with little pint measures on their heads instead of hats, and little
+boys in beaver hats with no tails to their coats."
+
+"All right," said the Unwiseman. "I'm satisfied if he is--only the man
+that got up that map ought to be spoken to about making it pink when it
+is only a dull yellow dusty gray, and only four inches long instead of
+five miles. Some stranger trying to find it in the dark some night might
+stumble over it and never know that he'd got what he was looking for.
+Where are we going to from here?"
+
+"We're going straight up to London," said Mollie. "The train goes in an
+hour--just after lunch. Will you come and have lunch with us?"
+
+"No thank you," replied the Unwiseman. "I've got a half dozen lunches
+saved up from the ship there in my carpet bag, and I'll eat a couple of
+those if I get hungry."
+
+"Saved up from the ship?" cried Mollie.
+
+"Yep," said the Unwiseman. "I've got a bottle full of that chicken broth
+they gave us the first day out that I didn't even try to eat; six or
+seven bottlefuls of beef tea, and about two dozen ginger-snaps, eight
+pounds of hard-tack, and a couple of apple pies. I kept ordering things
+all the way across whether I felt like eating them or not and whatever I
+didn't eat I'd bottle up, or wrap up in a piece of paper and put away in
+the bag. I've got just three dinners, two breakfasts and four lunches in
+there. When I get to London I'm going to buy a bunch of bananas and have
+an eclaire put up in a tin box and those with what I've already got
+ought to last me throughout the whole trip."
+
+"By the way, Mr. Me," said Mollie, a thoughtful look coming into her
+eyes. "Do you want me to ask my Papa to buy you a ticket for London? I
+think he'd do it if I asked him."
+
+"I know he would," said Whistlebinkie. "He's one of the greatest men in
+the world for doing what Mollie asks him to."
+
+"No thank you," replied the Unwiseman. "Of course if he had invited me
+to join the party at the start I might have been willing to have went at
+his expense, but seeing as how I sort of came along on my own hook I
+think I'd better look after myself. I'm an American, I am, and I kind of
+like to be free and independent like."
+
+"Have you any money with you?" asked Mollie anxiously.
+
+"No," laughed the Unwiseman. "That is, not more'n enough to buy that
+Duke's suit for $8.50 with. What's the use of having money? It's only a
+nuisance to carry around, and it makes you buy a lot of things you don't
+want just because you happen to have it along. People without money get
+along a great deal cheaper than people with it. Millionaires spend twice
+as much as poor people. Money ain't very sociable you know and it sort
+of hates to stay with you no matter how kind you are to it. So I didn't
+bring any along except the aforesaid eight-fifty."
+
+"Tisn't much, is it," said Mollie.
+
+"Not in dollars, but it's a lot in cents--eight hundred and fifty of
+'em--that's a good deal," said the Unwiseman cheerfully. "Then each cent
+is ten mills--that's--O dear me--such a lot of mills!"
+
+"Eight thousand five hundred," Mollie calculated.
+
+"Goodness!" cried the Unwiseman. "I hope there don't anybody find out
+I've got all that with me. I'd be afraid to go to sleep for fear
+somebody'd rob me."
+
+"But _how_--how are you going to get to London?" asked Mollie anxiously.
+"It's too far to walk."
+
+"O I'll get there," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"He'll probably get a hitch on the cow-catcher," suggested
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Don't you worry," laughed the Unwiseman. "It'll be all right, only--"
+here he paused and looked about him to make sure that no one was
+listening. "Only," he whispered, "I wish somebody would carry my
+carpet-bag. It's a pretty big one as you can see, and I _might_--I don't
+say I would--but I might have trouble getting to London if I had to
+carry it."
+
+"I'll be very glad to take care of it," said Mollie. "Should I have it
+checked or take it with me in the train?"
+
+"Better take it with you," said the Unwiseman. "I haven't any key and
+some of these railway people might open it and eat up all my supplies."
+
+"Very well," said Mollie. "I'll see that it's put in the train and I
+won't take my eyes off it all the way up to London."
+
+So the little party went up to the hotel. The Unwiseman's carpet-bag was
+placed with the other luggage, and the family went in to luncheon
+leaving the Unwiseman to his own devices. When they came out the old
+fellow was nowhere to be seen and Mollie, much worried about him boarded
+the train. Her father helped her with the carpet-bag, the train-door was
+closed, the conductor came for the tickets and with a loud clanging of
+bells the train started for London. It was an interesting trip but poor
+little Mollie did not enjoy it very much. She was so worried to think
+of the Unwiseman all alone in England trying some new patent way of his
+own for getting over so many miles from Liverpool to the capital of the
+British Empire.
+
+"We didn't even tell him the name of our hotel, Whistlebinkie," she
+whispered to her companion. "How will he ever find us again in this big
+place."
+
+"O-he'll-turn-up orright," whistled Whistlebinkie comfortingly. "He
+knows a thing or two even if he is an Unwiseman."
+
+And as it turned out Whistlebinkie was right, for about three minutes
+after their arrival at the London hotel, when the carpet-bag had been
+set carefully aside in one corner of Mollie's room, the cracked voice of
+the Unwiseman was heard singing:
+
+  "O a carpet-bag is more comfortabler
+    Than a regular Pullman Car.
+  Just climb inside and with never a stir,
+    Let no one know where you are;
+  And then when the train goes choo-choo-choo
+    And the ticket man comes arown,
+  You'll go without cost and a whizz straight through
+    To jolly old London-town.
+  To jolly, to jolly, to jolly, to jolly, to jolly old London-town."
+
+"Hi there, Mollie--press the latch on this carpet-bag!" the voice
+continued.
+
+"Where are you?" cried Mollie, gazing excitedly about her.
+
+"In here," came the voice from the cavernous depths of the carpet-bag.
+
+"In the bag," gasped Mollie, breathless with surprise.
+
+"_The_ same--let me out," replied the Unwiseman.
+
+And sure enough, when Mollie and Whistlebinkie with a mad rush sped to
+the carpet-bag and pressed on the sliding lock, the bag flew open and
+Mr. Me himself hopped smilingly up out of its wide-stretched jaws.
+
+
+
+
+V.
+
+A CALL ON THE KING
+
+
+"Mercy!" cried Mollie as the Unwiseman stepped out of the carpet-bag,
+and began limbering up his stiffened legs by pirouetting about the room.
+"Aren't you nearly stufficated to death?"
+
+"No indeed," said the Unwiseman. "Why should I be?"
+
+"Well _I_ should think the inside of a carpet-bag would be pretty
+smothery," observed Mollie.
+
+"Perhaps it would be," agreed the Unwiseman, "if I hadn't taken mighty
+good care that it shouldn't be. You see I brought that life-preserver
+along, and every time I needed a bite of fresh air, I'd unscrew the tin
+cap and get it. I pumped it full of fine salt air the day we left
+Ireland for just that purpose."
+
+"What a splendid idea!" ejaculated Mollie full of admiration for the
+Unwiseman's ingenuity.
+
+"Yes I think it's pretty good," said the Unwiseman, "and when I get back
+home I'm going to invent it and make a large fortune out of it. Of
+course there ain't many people nowadays, especially among the rich, who
+travel in carpet-bags the way I do, or get themselves checked through
+from New York to Chicago in trunks, but there are a lot of 'em who are
+always complaining about the lack of fresh air in railroad trains
+especially when they're going through tunnels, so I'm going to patent a
+little pocket fresh air case that they can carry about with them and use
+when needed. It is to be made of rubber like a hot-water bag, and all
+you've got to do before starting off on a long journey is to take your
+bicycle pump, pump the fresh-air bag full of the best air you can find
+on the place and set off on your trip. Then when the cars get snuffy,
+just unscrew the cap and take a sniff."
+
+"My goodness!" cried Mollie. "You ought to make a million dollars out of
+that."
+
+"Million?" retorted the Unwiseman. "Well I should say so. Why there are
+80,000,000 people in America and if I sold one of those fresh-air bags a
+year to only 79,000,000 of 'em at two dollars apiece for ten years you
+see where I'd come out. They'd call me the Fresh Air King and print my
+picture in the newspapers."
+
+"You couldn't lend me two dollars now, could you?" asked Whistlebinkie
+facetiously.
+
+"Yes I _could_," said the Unwiseman with a frown, "but I won't--but you
+can go out on the street and breathe two dollars worth of fresh air any
+time you want to and have it charged to my account."
+
+Mollie laughed merrily at the Unwiseman's retort, and Whistlebinkie for
+the time being had nothing to say, or whistle either for that matter.
+
+"You missed a lot of interesting scenery on the way up, Mr. Me," said
+Mollie.
+
+"No I didn't," said the Unwiseman. "I heard it all as it went by, and
+that's good enough for me. I'd just as lief hear a thing as see it any
+day. I saw some music once and it wasn't half as pretty to look at as it
+was when I heard it, and it's the same way about scenery if you only get
+your mind fixed up so that you can enjoy it that way. Somehow or other
+it didn't sound so very different from the scenery I've heard at home,
+and that's one thing that made me like it. I'm very fond of sitting
+quietly in my little room at home and listening to the landscape when
+the moon is up and the stars are out, and no end of times as we rattled
+along from Liverpool to London it sounded just like things do over in
+America, especially when we came to the switches at the railroad
+conjunctions. Don't they rattle beautifully!"
+
+"They certainly do!" said Whistlebinkie, prompted largely by a desire to
+get back into the good graces of the Unwiseman. "I love it when we bump
+over them so hard they make-smee-wissle."
+
+"You're all right when you whistle, Fizzledinkie," smiled the Unwiseman.
+"It's only when you try to talk that you are not all that you should be.
+Woyds and you get sort of tangled up and I haven't got time to ravel you
+out. But I say, Mollie, we're really in London are we?"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie. "This is it."
+
+"Well I guess I'll go out and see what there is about it that makes
+people want to come here," said the Unwiseman. "I've got a list of
+things I want to see, and the sooner I get to work the sooner I'll see
+'em. First thing I want to get a sight of is a real London fog. Then of
+course I want to go down to the Aquarium and see the Prince of Whales,
+and call on the King and Queen, and meet a few Dukes, and Earls and
+things like that. Then there's the British Museum. I'm told there is a
+lot of very interesting things down there including some Egyptian
+mummies that are passing their declining years there. I've never talked
+to a mummy in my life and I'd rather like to meet a few of 'em. I wonder
+if Dick Whittington's cat is still living."
+
+"O I don't believe so," said Mollie. "He must have died long years ago."
+
+"The first time and maybe the second or third or even the fourth time,"
+said the Unwiseman. "But cats have nine lives and if he lived fifty
+years for each of them that would be--let's see, four times nine is
+eighteen, three times two is ten, carry four and----"
+
+"It would be 450 years," laughed Mollie.
+
+"Pretty old cat," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well there's no harm in asking anyhow, and if he is alive I'm going to
+see him, and if he isn't the chances are they've had him stuffed and a
+stuffed cat is better to look at than no cat at all," said the
+Unwiseman, brushing off his hat preparatory to going out. "Come on,
+Mollie--are you ready?"
+
+The little party trudged down the stairs and out upon the avenue upon
+which their hotel fronted.
+
+"Guess we'd better take a hansom," said the Unwiseman as they emerged
+from the door. "We'll save time going that way if the driver knows his
+business. We'll just tell him to go where we want to go, and in that way
+we won't have to keep asking these Roberts the way round."
+
+"Roberts?" asked Mollie, forgetting the little incident at Liverpool.
+
+"Oh well--the Bobbies--the pleecemen," replied the Unwiseman. "I want to
+get used to 'em before I call them that."
+
+So they all climbed into a hansom cab.
+
+"Where to, sir?" asked the cabby, through the little hole in the roof.
+
+"Well I suppose we ought to call on the King first," said the Unwiseman
+to Mollie. "Don't you?"
+
+"I guess so," said Mollie timidly.
+
+"To the King's," said the Unwiseman, through the little hole.
+
+"Beg pardon!" replied the astonished cabby.
+
+"Don't mention it," said the Unwiseman. "Drive to the King's house first
+and apologize afterwards."
+
+"I only wanted to know where you wished to go, sir," said the cabby.
+
+"The King's, stupid," roared the Unwiseman, "Mr. Edward S.
+King's--didn't you ever hear of him?"
+
+"To the Palace, sir?" asked the driver.
+
+"Of course unless his h. r. h. is living in a tent somewhere--and hurry
+up. We didn't engage you for the pleasures of conversation, but to drive
+us," said the Unwiseman severely.
+
+The amazed cabman whipped up his horse and a short while afterwards
+reached Buckingham Palace, the home of the King and Queen in London. At
+either side of the gate was a tall sentry box, and a magnificent
+red-coated soldier with a high bear-skin shako on his head paced along
+the path.
+
+"There he is now," said the Unwiseman, excitedly, pointing at the guard.
+"Isn't he a magnificent sight. Come along and I'll introduce you."
+
+The Unwiseman leapt jauntily out of the hansom and Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie timidly followed.
+
+"Howdido, Mr. King," said the Unwiseman stepping in front of the sentry
+and making a profound salaam and almost sweeping the walk with his hat.
+"We've just arrived in London and have called to pay our respects to you
+and Mrs. King. I hope the children are well. We're Americans, Mr. King,
+but for the time being we've decided to overlook all our little
+differences growing out of the Declaration of Independence and wish you
+a Merry Fourth of July."
+
+The sentry was dumb with amazement at this unexpected greeting, and the
+cabby's eyes nearly dropped out of his head they bulged so.
+
+"Mollie, dear," continued Mr. Me, "Come here, my child and let me
+introduce you to Mr. King. Mr. King, this is a little American girl
+named Mollie. She's a bit bashful in your h. r. h's presence because
+between you and me you are the first real King she's ever saw. We don't
+grow 'em in our country--that is not your kind. We have Cattle Kings and
+Steel Kings, and I'm expecting to become a Fresh Air King myself--but
+the kind that's born to the--er--to the purple like yourself, with a
+gilt crown on his head and the spectre of power in his hand we don't get
+even at the circus."
+
+[Illustration: MOLLY MAKES HER COURTESY TO MR. KING]
+
+"Very glad to meet you," gasped Mollie, feasting her eyes upon the
+gorgeous red coat of the sentry.
+
+The sentry not knowing what else to do and utterly upset by the
+Unwiseman's eloquence returned the gasp as politely as he could.
+
+"She's a mighty nice little girl, Mr. King," said the Unwiseman with a
+fond glance of admiration at Mollie. "And if any of your little kings
+and queens feel like calling at the hotel some morning for a friendly
+Anglo-American romp, Mollie will be very glad to see them. This other
+young person, your h. r. h., is Whistlebinkie who belongs to one of the
+best Rubber families of the United States. He looks better than he
+talks. Whistlebinkie, Mr. King. Mr. King, Whistlebinkie."
+
+Whistlebinkie, too overcome to speak, merely squeaked, a proceeding
+which seemed to please the sentry very much for he returned a truly
+royal smile and expressed himself as being very glad to meet
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Been having pretty cold weather?" asked the Unwiseman genially.
+
+"Been rawther 'ot," said the sentry.
+
+"I only asked," said the Unwiseman with a glance at the guard's shako,
+"because I see you have your fur crown on. Our American Kings wear
+Panama crowns this weather," he added, "but then we're free over there
+and can do pretty much what we like. Did you get my letter?"
+
+"Beg your pardon?" asked the sentry.
+
+"Mercy!" ejaculated the Unwiseman under his breath. "What an apologetic
+people these English are--first the cabby and now the King." Then he
+repeated aloud, "My letter--I wrote to you yesterday about this H
+dropping habit of your people, and I was going to say that if after
+reading it you decided to make me a Duke I'd be very glad to accept if
+the clothes a Duke has to wear don't cost more than $8.50. I might even
+go as high as nine dollars if the suit was a real good one that I could
+wear ten or eleven years--but otherwise I couldn't afford it. It would
+be very kind of your h. r. h. to make me one, but I've always made it a
+rule not to spend more than a dollar a year on my clothes and even a
+Duke has got to wear socks and neckties in addition to his coats and
+trousers. Who is your Majesty's Tailor? That red coat fits you like
+wall-paper."
+
+The sentry said something about buying his uniforms at the Army and Navy
+stores and the Unwiseman observed that he would most certainly have to
+go there and see what he could get for himself.
+
+"I'll tell 'em your h. r. h. sent me," he said pleasantly, "and maybe
+they'll give you a commission on what I buy."
+
+A long pause followed broken only by Whistlebinkie's heavy breathing for
+he had by no means recovered from his excitement over having met a real
+king at last. Finally the Unwiseman spoke again.
+
+"We'd like very much to accept your kind invitation to stay to supper,
+Mr. King," he observed--although the sentry had said nothing at all
+about any such thing--"but we really can't to-night. You see we are
+paying pretty good rates at the hotel and we feel it a sort of duty to
+stay there and eat all we can so as to get our money's worth. And we'd
+like to meet the Queen too, but as you can see for yourself we're hardly
+dressed for that. We only came anyhow to let you know that we were here
+and to tell you that if you ever came to America we'd be mighty glad to
+have you call. I've got a rather nice house of my own with a
+kitchen-stove in it that I wouldn't sell for five dollars that you would
+enjoy seeing. It's rented this summer to one of the most successful
+burgulars in America and I think you'd enjoy meeting him, and don't
+hesitate to bring the children. America's a great place for children,
+your h. r. h. It's just chock full of back yards for 'em to play in, and
+banisters to slide down, and roller skating rinks and all sorts of
+things that children enjoy. I'll be very glad to let you use my umbrella
+too if the weather happens to be bad."
+
+The sentry was very much impressed apparently by the cordiality of the
+Unwiseman's invitation for he bowed most graciously a half dozen times,
+and touched his bear-skin hat very respectfully, and smiled so royally
+that anybody could see he was delighted with the idea of some day
+visiting that far off land where the Unwiseman lived, and seeing that
+wonderful kitchen-stove of which, as we know, the old gentleman was so
+proud.
+
+"By the way," said the Unwiseman, confidentially. "Before I go I'd like
+to say to you that if you are writing at any time to the Emperor of
+Germany you might send him my kind regards. I had hoped to be able to
+stop over at Kettledam, or wherever it is he lives--no, it's Pottsdam--I
+always do get pots and kettles mixed--I had hoped to be able, I say, to
+stop over there and pay my respects to him, but the chances are I won't
+be able to do so this trip. I'd hate to have him think that I'd been
+over here and hadn't paid any attention to him, and if you'll be so kind
+as to send him my regards he won't feel so badly about it. I'd write and
+tell him myself, but the fact is my German is a little rusty. I only
+know German by sight--and even then I don't know what it means except
+Gesundheit,--which is German for 'did you sneeze?' So you see a letter
+addressed to Mr. Hoch----"
+
+"Beg pardon, but Mr. Who sir?" asked the Sentry.
+
+"Mr. Hoch, der Kaiser," said the Unwiseman. "That's his name, isn't it?"
+
+The sentry said he believed it was something like that.
+
+"Well as I was saying even if I wrote he wouldn't understand what I was
+trying to say, so it would be a waste of time," said the Unwiseman.
+
+The sentry nodded pleasantly, and his eyes twinkled under his great
+bear-skin hat like two sparkling bits of coal.
+
+"Good bye, your h. r. h.," the Unwiseman continued, holding out his
+hand. "It has been a real pleasure to meet you, and between you and me
+if all kings were as good mannered and decent about every thing as you
+are we wouldn't mind 'em so much over in America. If the rest of 'em are
+like you they're all right."
+
+And so the Unwiseman shook hands with the sentry and Mollie did likewise
+while Whistlebinkie repeated his squeak with a quaver that showed how
+excited he still was. The three travellers re-entered the hansom and
+inasmuch as it was growing late they decided not to do any more
+sight-seeing that day, and instructed the cabby to drive them back to
+the hotel.
+
+"Wonderfully fine man, that King," said the Unwiseman as they drove
+along. "I had a sort of an idea he'd have a band playing music all the
+time, with ice cream and cake being served every five minutes in truly
+royal style."
+
+"He was just as pleasant as a plain everyday policeman at home," said
+Mollie.
+
+"Pleasanter," observed the Unwiseman. "A policeman at home would
+probably have told us to move on the minute we spoke to him, but the
+King was as polite as ginger-bread. I guess we were lucky to find him
+outside there because if he hadn't been I don't believe the head-butler
+would have let us in."
+
+"How-dy'u-know he was the King?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Oh I just felt it in my bones," said the Unwiseman. "He was so big and
+handsome, and then that red coat with the gold buttons--why it just
+simply couldn't be anybody else."
+
+"He didn't say much, diddee," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman. "I guess maybe that's one of the reasons why
+he's a first class King. The fellow that goes around talking all the
+time might just as well be a--well a rubber-doll like you, Fizzledinkie.
+It takes a great man to hold his tongue."
+
+The hansom drew up at the hotel door and the travellers alighted.
+
+"Thank you very much," said the Unwiseman with a friendly nod at the
+cabby.
+
+"Five shillin's, please, sir," said the driver.
+
+"What's that?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"Five shillin's," repeated the cabby.
+
+"What do you suppose he means?" asked the Unwiseman turning to Mollie.
+
+"Why he wants to be paid five shillings," whispered Mollie. "Shillings
+is money."
+
+"Oh--hm--well--I never thought of that," said the Unwiseman uneasily.
+"How much is that in dollars?"
+
+"It's a dollar and a quarter," said Mollie.
+
+"I don't want to buy the horse," protested the Unwiseman.
+
+"Come now!" put in the driver rather impatiently. "Five shillin's,
+sir."
+
+"Charge it," said the Unwiseman, shrinking back. "Just put it on the
+bill, driver, and I'll send you a cheque for it. I've only got ten
+dollars in real money with me, and I tell you right now I'm not going to
+pay out a dollar and a quarter right off the handle at one fell swoop."
+
+"You'll pay now, or I'll--" the cabby began.
+
+And just then, fortunately for all, Mollie's father, who had been
+looking all over London for his missing daughter, appeared, and in his
+joy over finding his little one, paid the cabby and saved the Unwiseman
+from what promised to be a most unpleasant row.
+
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+THEY GET SOME FOG AND GO SHOPPING
+
+
+The following day the Unwiseman was in high-feather. At last he was able
+to contemplate in all its gorgeousness a real London fog of which he had
+heard so much, for over the whole city hung one of those deep, dark,
+impenetrable mists which cause so much trouble at times to those who
+dwell in the British capital.
+
+"Hurry up, Mollie, and come out," he cried enthusiastically rapping on
+the little girl's door. "There's one of the finest fogs outside you ever
+saw. I'm going to get a bottle full of it and take it home with me."
+
+"Hoh!" jeered Whistlebinkie. "What a puffickly 'bsoyd thing to do--as if
+we never didn't have no fogs at home!"
+
+"We don't have any London fogs in America, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie.
+
+"No but we have very much finer ones," boasted the patriotic
+Whistlebinkie. "They're whiter and cleaner to begin with, and twice as
+deep."
+
+"Well never mind, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie. "Don't go looking around
+for trouble with the Unwiseman. It's very nice to be able to enjoy
+everything as much as he does and you shouldn't never find fault with
+people because they enjoy themselves."
+
+"Hi-there, Mollie," came the Unwiseman's voice at the door. "Just open
+the door a little and I'll give you a hatful of it."
+
+"You can come in," said Mollie. "Whistlebinkie and I are all dressed."
+
+And the little girl opened the door and the Unwiseman entered. He
+carried his beaver hat in both hands, as though it were a pail without a
+handle, and over the top of it he had spread a copy of the morning's
+paper.
+
+"It's just the finest fog ever," he cried as he came in. "Real thick. I
+thought you'd like to have some, so I went out on the sidewalk and got a
+hat full of it for you."
+
+Mollie and Whistlebinkie gathered about the old gentleman as he removed
+the newspaper from the top of his hat, and gazed into it.
+
+"I do-see-anthing," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"You don't?" cried the Unwiseman. "Why it's chock full of fog. You can
+see it can't you Mollie?" he added anxiously, for to tell the truth the
+hat did seem to be pretty empty.
+
+Mollie tried hard and was able to convince herself that she could see
+just a tiny bit of it and acted accordingly.
+
+"Isn't it beautiful!" she ejaculated, as if filled with admiration for
+the contents of the Unwiseman's hat. "I don't think I ever saw any just
+like it before--did you, Mr. Me?"
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman much pleased, "I don't think I ever did--it's
+so delicate and--er--steamy, eh? And there's miles of it outdoors and
+the Robert down on the corner says we're welcome to all we want of it. I
+didn't like to take it without asking, you know."
+
+"Of course not," said Mollie, glancing into the hat again.
+
+"So I just went up to the pleeceman and told him I was going to start a
+museum at home and that I wanted to have some real London fog on
+exhibition and would he mind if I took some. 'Go ahead, sir,' he said
+very politely. 'Go ahead and take all you want. We've got plenty of it
+and to spare. You can take it all if you want it.' Mighty kind of him I
+think," said the Unwiseman. "So I dipped out a hat full for you first.
+Where'll I put it?"
+
+"O----," said Mollie, "I--I don't know. I guess maybe you'd better pour
+it out into that vase up there on the mantel-piece--it isn't too thick
+to go in there, is it?"
+
+"It don't seem to be," said the Unwiseman peering cautiously into the
+hat. "Somehow or other it don't seem quite as thick inside here as it
+did out there on the street. Tell you the truth I don't believe it'll
+keep unless we get it in a bottle and cork it up good and tight--do
+you?"
+
+"I'm afraid not," agreed Mollie. "It's something like snow--kind of
+vaporates."
+
+"I'm going to put mine in a bottle," said the Unwiseman, "and seal the
+cork with sealing wax--then I'll be sure of it. Then I thought I'd get
+an envelope full and send it home to my Burgular just to show him I
+haven't forgotten him--poor fellow, he must be awful lonesome up there
+in my house without any friends in the neighborhood and no other
+burgulars about to keep him company."
+
+And the strange little man ran off to get his bottle filled with fog
+and to fill up an envelope with it as well as a souvenir of London for
+the lonesome Burglar at home. Later on Mollie encountered him leaving
+the hotel door with a small shovel and bucket in his hand such as
+children use on the beach in the summer-time.
+
+"The pleeceman says it's thicker down by the river," he explained to
+Mollie, "and I'm going down there to shovel up a few pailsful--though
+I've got a fine big bottleful of it already corked up and labelled for
+my museum. And by the way, Mollie, you want to be careful about
+Whistlebinkie in this fog. When he whistles on a bright clear day it is
+hard enough to understand what he is saying, but if he gets _his_ hat
+full of fog and tries to whistle with that it will be something awful. I
+don't think I could stand him if he began to talk any foggier than he
+does ordinarily."
+
+Mollie promised to look out for this and kept Whistlebinkie indoors all
+the morning, much to the rubber-doll's disgust, for Whistlebinkie was
+quite as anxious to see how the fog would affect his squeak as the
+Unwiseman was to avoid having him do so. In the afternoon the fog lifted
+and the Unwiseman returned.
+
+"I think I'll go out and see if I can find the King's tailor," he said.
+"I'm getting worried about that Duke's suit. I asked the Robert what he
+thought it would cost and he said he didn't believe you could get one
+complete for less than five pounds and the way I figure it out that's a
+good deal more than eight-fifty."
+
+"It's twenty-five dollars," Mollie calculated.
+
+"Mercy!" cried the Unwiseman. "It costs a lot to dress by the pound
+doesn't it--I guess I'd better write to Mr. King and tell him I've
+decided not to accept."
+
+"Better see what it costs first," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"All right," agreed the Unwiseman. "I will--want to go with me Mollie?"
+
+"Certainly," said Mollie.
+
+And they started out. After walking up to Trafalgar Square and thence on
+to Piccadilly, the Unwiseman carefully scanning all the signs before the
+shops as they went, they came to a bake-shop that displayed in its
+window the royal coat of arms and announced that "Muffins by Special
+Appointment to H. R. H. the King," could be had there.
+
+"We're getting close," said the Unwiseman. "Let's go in and have a royal
+cream-cake."
+
+Mollie as usual was willing and entering the shop the Unwiseman planted
+himself before the counter and addressed the sales-girl.
+
+"I'm a friend of Mr. King, Madame," he observed with a polite bow, "just
+over from America and we had a sort of an idea that we should like to
+eat a really regal piece of cake. What have you in stock made by Special
+Appointment for the King?"
+
+"We 'ave Hinglish Muffins," replied the girl.
+
+"Let me see a few," said the Unwiseman.
+
+The girl produced a trayful.
+
+"Humph!" ejaculated the Unwiseman looking at them critically. "They
+ain't very different from common people's muffins are they? What I want
+is some of the stuff that goes to the Palace. I may look green, young
+lady, but I guess I've got sense enough to see that those things are
+_not_ royal."
+
+[Illustration: "THESE ARE THE KIND HIS MAJESTY PREFERS," SAID THE GIRL]
+
+"These are the kind his majesty prefers," said the girl.
+
+"Come along, Mollie," said the Unwiseman turning away. "I don't want
+to get into trouble and I'm sure this young lady is trying to fool us. I
+am very much obliged to you, Madame," he added turning to the girl at
+the counter. "We'd have been very glad to purchase some of your wares if
+you hadn't tried to deceive us. Those muffins are very pretty indeed but
+when you try to make us believe that they are muffins by special
+appointment to his h. r. h., Mr. Edward S. King, plain and simple
+Americans though we be, we know better. Even my rubber friend,
+Whistlebinkie here recognizes a bean when he sees it. I shall report
+this matter to the King and beg to wish you a very good afternoon."
+
+And drawing himself up to his full height, the Unwiseman with a great
+show of dignity marched out of the shop followed meekly by Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I-didn-tsee-an-thing th-matter-withem," whistled Whistlebinkie. "They
+looked to me like firs-class-smuffins."
+
+"No doubt," said the Unwiseman. "That's because you don't know much. But
+they couldn't fool me. If I'd wanted plain muffins I could have asked
+for them, but when I ask for a muffin by special appointment to his
+h. r. h. the King I want them to give me what I ask for. Perhaps you
+didn't observe that not one of those muffins she brought out was set
+with diamonds and rubies."
+
+"Now that you mention it," said Mollie, "I remember they weren't."
+
+"Prezactly," said the Unwiseman. "They weren't even gold mounted, or
+silver plated, or anything to make 'em different from the plain every
+day muffins that you can buy in a baker's shop at home. I don't believe
+they were by special appointment to anybody--not even a nearl, much less
+the King. I guess they think we Americans don't know anything over
+here--but they're barking up the wrong tree if they think they can fool
+me."
+
+"We-mightuv-tastedum!" whistled Whistlebinkie much disappointed, because
+he always did love the things at the baker's. "You can't tell just by
+lookin' at a muffin whether it's good or not."
+
+"Well go back and taste them," retorted the Unwiseman. "It's your
+taste--only if I had as little taste as you have I wouldn't waste it on
+that stuff. Ah--this is the place I've been looking for."
+
+The old man's eyes had fallen upon another sign which read "Robe Maker
+By Special Appointment to T. R. H. The King and The Queen."
+
+"Here's the place, Mollie, where they make the King's clothes," he said.
+"Now for it."
+
+Hand in hand the three travellers entered the tailor's shop.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Snip," said the Unwiseman addressing the gentlemanly
+manager of the shop whose name was on the sign without and who
+approached him as affably as though he were not himself the greatest
+tailor in the British Isles--for he couldn't have been the King's tailor
+if he had not been head and shoulders above all the rest. "I had a very
+pleasant little chat with his h. r. h. about you yesterday. I could see
+by the fit of his red jacket that you were the best tailor in the world,
+and while he didn't say very much on the subject the King gave me to
+understand that you're pretty nearly all that you should be."
+
+"Verry gracious of his Majesty I am sure," replied the tailor, washing
+his hands in invisible soap, and bowing most courteously.
+
+"Now the chances are," continued the Unwiseman, "that as soon as the
+King receives a letter I wrote to him from Liverpool about how to stamp
+out this horrible habit his subjects have of littering up the street
+with aitches, clogging traffic and overworking the Roberts picking 'em
+up, he'll ask me to settle down over here and be a Duke. Naturally I
+don't want to disappoint him because I consider the King to be a mighty
+nice man, but unless I can get a first-class Duke's costume----"
+
+"We make a specialty of Ducal robes, your Grace," said the Tailor,
+manifesting a great deal of interest in his queer little customer.
+
+"Hold on a minute," cried the Unwiseman. "Don't you call me that yet--I
+shant be a grace until I've decided to accept. What does an A-1 Duke's
+clothes cost?"
+
+"You mean the full State----" began the Tailor.
+
+"I come from New York State," said the Unwiseman. "Yes--I guess that's
+it. New York's the fullest State in the Union. How much for a New York
+State Duke?"
+
+"The State Robes will cost--um--let me see--I should think about fifteen
+hundred pounds, your Lordship," calculated the Tailor. "Of course it all
+depends on the quality of the materials. Velvets are rawther expensive
+these days."
+
+Whistlebinkie gave a long low squeak of astonishment. Mollie gasped and
+the Unwiseman turned very pale as he tremblingly repeated the figure.
+
+"Fif-teen-hundred-pounds? Why," he added turning to Mollie, "I'd have to
+live about seven thousand years to get the wear out of it at a dollar a
+year."
+
+"Yes, your Lordship--or more. It all depends upon how much gold your
+Lordship requires--" observed the Tailor.
+
+"Seems to me I'd need about four barrels of it," said the Unwiseman, "to
+pay a bill like that."
+
+"We have made robes costing as high as 10,000 pounds," continued the
+Tailor. "But they of course were of unusual magnificence--and for
+special jubilee celebrations you know."
+
+"You haven't any ready made Duke's clothes on hand for less?" inquired
+the Unwiseman. "You know I'm not so awfully particular about the fit.
+My figure's a pretty good one, but after all I don't want to thrust it
+on people."
+
+"We do not deal in ready made garments," said the Tailor coldly.
+
+"Well I guess I'll have to give it up then," said the Unwiseman, "unless
+you know where I could hire a suit, or maybe buy one second-hand from
+some one of your customers who's going to get a new one."
+
+"We do not do that kind of trade, sir," replied the Tailor, haughtily.
+
+"Well say, Mr. Snip--ain't there anything else a chap can be made beside
+a Duke that ain't quite so dressy?" persisted the old gentleman. "I
+don't want to disappoint Mr. King you know."
+
+"Oh as for that," observed the Tailor, "there are ordinary peerages,
+baronetcies and the like. His Majesty might make you a Knight," he added
+sarcastically.
+
+"That sounds good," said the Unwiseman. "About what would a Knight gown
+cost me--made out of paper muslin or something that's a wee bit cheaper
+than solid gold and velvet?"
+
+This perfectly innocent and sincerely asked question was never answered,
+for Mr. Snip the Tailor made up his mind that the Unwiseman was guying
+him and acted accordingly.
+
+"Jorrocks!" he cried haughtily to the office boy, a fresh looking lad
+who had broken out all over in brass buttons. "Jorrocks, show this 'ere
+party the door."
+
+Whereupon Mr. Snip retired and Jorrocks with a wink at Whistlebinkie
+showed the travellers out.
+
+"Well did you ever!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "You couldn't have
+expected any haughtier haughtiness than that from the King himself."
+
+"He was pretty proud," said Mollie, with a smile, for to tell the truth
+she had had all she could do all through the interview to keep from
+giggling.
+
+"He was proud all right, but I didn't notice anything very pretty about
+him," said the Unwiseman. "I'm going to write to the King about both
+those places, because I don't believe he knows what kind of people they
+are with their bogus muffins and hoity-toity manners."
+
+They walked solemnly along the street in the direction of the hotel.
+
+"I won't even wait for the mail," said the Unwiseman. "I'll walk over
+to the Palace now and tell him. That tailor might turn some real
+important American out of his shop in the same way and then there'd be a
+war over it."
+
+"O I wouldn't," said Mollie, who was always inclined toward
+peace-making. "Wait and write him a letter."
+
+"Send-im-a-wireless-smessage," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Good idea!" said the Unwiseman. "That'll save postage and it'll get to
+the King right away instead of having to be read first by one of his
+Secretaries."
+
+So it happened that that night the Unwiseman climbed up to the roof of
+the hotel and sent the following wireless telegram to the King:
+
+      MY DEAR MR. KING:
+
+      That tailor of yours seems to think he's a Grand Duke in disguise.
+      In the first place he wanted me to pay over seven thousand dollars
+      for a Duke's suit and when I asked him the price of a Knight-gown
+      he told Jorrocks to show me the door, which I had already seen and
+      hadn't asked to see again. He's a very imputinent tailor and if I
+      were you I'd bounce him as we say in America. Furthermore they
+      sell bogus muffins up at that specially appointed bake-shop of
+      yours. I think you ought to know these things. Nations have gone
+      to war for less.
+
+  Yours trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN.
+
+      P.S. I've been thinking about that Duke proposition and I don't
+      think I care to go into that business. Folks at home haven't as
+      much use for 'em as they have for sour apples which you can make
+      pie out of. So don't do anything further in the matter.
+
+"There," said the Unwiseman as he tossed this message off into the air.
+"That saves me $8.50 anyhow, and I guess it'll settle the business of
+those bogus muffin people and that high and mighty tailor."
+
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+THE UNWISEMAN VISITS THE BRITISH MUSEUM
+
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie one morning after they had
+been in London for a week. "You look very gloomy this morning. Aren't
+you feeling well?"
+
+"O I'm feeling all right physically," said the Unwiseman. "But I'm just
+chock full of gloom just the same and I want to get away from here as
+soon as I can. Everything in the whole place is bogus."
+
+"Oh Mr. Me! you mustn't say that!" protested Mollie.
+
+"Well if it ain't there's something mighty queer about it anyhow, and I
+just don't like it," said the Unwiseman. "I know they've fooled me right
+and left, and I'm just glad George Washington licked 'em at Bunco Hill
+and pushed 'em off our continent on the double quick."
+
+"What is the particular trouble?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Well, in the first place," began the old gentleman, "that King we saw
+the other day wasn't a real king at all--just a sort of decoy king they
+keep outside the Palace to shoo people off and keep them from bothering
+the real one; and in the second place the Prince of Whales aint' a whale
+at all. He ain't even a shiner. He's just a man. I don't see what right
+they have to fool people the way they do. They wouldn't dare run a
+circus that way at home."
+
+Mollie laughed, and Whistlebinkie squeaked with joy.
+
+"You didn't really expect him to be a whale, did you?" Mollie asked.
+
+"Why of course I did," said the Unwiseman. "Why not? They claim over
+here that Britannia rules the waves, don't they?"
+
+"They certainly do," said Mollie gravely.
+
+"Then it's natural to suppose they have a big fish somewhere to
+represent 'em," said the Unwiseman. "The King can't go sloshing around
+under the ocean saying howdido to porpoises and shad and fellers like
+that. It's too wet and he'd catch his death of cold, so I naturally
+thought the Prince of Whales looked after that end of the business, and
+now I find he's not even a sardine. It's perfectly disgusting."
+
+"I knew-he-wasn't-a-fish," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well you always were smarter than anybody else," growled the Unwiseman.
+"You know a Roc's egg isn't a pebble without anybody telling you I
+guess. You were born with the multiplication table in your hat, but as
+for me I'm glad I've got something to learn. I guess carrying so much
+real live information around in your hat is what makes you squeak so."
+
+The old gentleman paused a moment and then he went on again.
+
+"What I'm worrying most about is that mock king," he said. "Here I've
+gone and invited him over to America, and offered to present him with
+the freedom of my kitchen stove and introduce him to my burgular.
+Suppose he comes? What on earth am I going to do? I can't introduce him
+as the real king, and if I pass him off for a bogus king everybody'll
+laugh at me, and accuse me of bringing my burgular into bad company."
+
+"How did you find it out?" asked Mollie sadly, for she had already
+written home to her friends giving them a full account of their
+reception by his majesty.
+
+"Why I went up to the Palace this morning to see why he hadn't answered
+my letter and this time there was another man there, wearing the same
+suit of clothes, bear-skin hat, red jacket and all," explained the
+Unwiseman. "I was just flabbergasted and then it flashed over me all of
+a sudden that there might be a big conspiracy on hand to kidnap the real
+king and put his enemies on the throne. It was all so plain. Certainly
+no king would let anybody else wear his clothes, so this chap must have
+stolen them and was trying to pass himself off for Edward S. King
+himself."
+
+"Mercy!" cried Mollie. "What did you do? Call for help?"
+
+"No sirree--I mean no ma'am!" returned the Unwiseman. "That wouldn't
+help matters any. I ran down the street to a telephone office and rang
+up the palace. I told 'em the king had been kidnapped and that a bogus
+king was paradin' up and down in front of the Palace with the royal
+robes on. I liked that first king so much I couldn't bear to think of
+his lyin' off somewhere in a dungeon-cell waiting to have his head
+chopped off. And what do you suppose happened? Instead of arresting the
+mock king they wanted to arrest me, and I think they would have if a
+nice old gentleman in a high hat and a frock coat like mine, only newer,
+hadn't driven up at that minute, bowing to everybody, and entered the
+Palace yard with the whole crowd giving him three cheers. Then what do
+you suppose? They tried to pass _him_ off on me as the _real_ king--why
+he was plainer than those muffins and looked for all the world like a
+good natured life insurance agent over home."
+
+"And they didn't arrest you?" asked Mollie, anxiously.
+
+"No indeed," laughed the Unwiseman. "I had my carpet-bag along and when
+the pleeceman wasn't looking I jumped into it and waited till they'd all
+gone. Of course they couldn't find me. I don't believe they've got any
+king over here at all."
+
+"Then you'll never be a Duke?" said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"No sirree!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "Not while I know how to say no.
+If they offer it to me I'll buy a megaphone to say no through so's
+they'll be sure to hear it. Then there's that other wicked story about
+London Bridge falling down. I heard some youngsters down there by the
+River announcing the fact and I nearly ran my legs off trying to get
+there in time to see it fall and when I arrived it not only wasn't
+falling down but was just ram-jam full of omnibuses and cabs and trucks.
+Really I never knew anybody anywhere who could tell as many fibs in a
+minute as these people over here can."
+
+"Well never mind, Mr. Me," said Mollie, soothingly. "Perhaps things have
+gone a little wrong with you, and I don't blame you for feeling badly
+about the King, but there are other things here that are very
+interesting. Come with Whistlebinkie and me to the British Museum and
+see the Mummies."
+
+"Pooh!" retorted the Unwiseman. "I'd rather see a basket of figs."
+
+"You never can tell," persisted Mollie. "They may turn out to be the
+most interesting things in all the world."
+
+"I can tell," said the Unwiseman. "I've already seen 'em and they
+haven't as much conversation as a fried oyster. I went down there
+yesterday and spent two hours with 'em, and a more unapproachable lot
+you never saw in your life. I was just as polite to 'em as I knew how to
+be. Asked 'em how they liked the British climate. Told 'em long stories
+of my house at home. Invited a lot of 'em to come over and meet my
+burgular just as I did the King and not a one of 'em even so much as
+thanked me. They just stood off there in their glass cases and acted as
+if they never saw me, and if they did, hadn't the slightest desire to
+see me again. You don't catch me calling on them a second time."
+
+"But there are other things in the Museum, aren't there?" asked Mollie.
+
+The Unwiseman's gloom disappeared for a moment in a loud burst of
+laughter.
+
+"Such a collection of odds and ends," he cried, with a sarcastic shake
+of his head. "I never saw so much broken crockery in all my life. It
+looks to me as if they'd bought up all the old broken china in the
+world. There are tea-pots without nozzles by the thousand. Old tin
+cans, all rusted up and with dents in 'em from everywhere. Cracked
+plates by the million, and no end of water-pitchers with the handles
+broken off, and chipped vases and goodness knows what all. And they call
+that a museum! Just you give me a half a dozen bricks and a crockery
+shop over in America and in five minutes I'll make that British Museum
+stuff look like a sixpence. When I saw it first, I was pretty mad to
+think I'd taken the trouble to go and look at it, and then as I went on
+and couldn't find a whole tea-cup in the entire outfit, and saw people
+with catalogues in their hands saying how wonderful everything was, I
+just had to sit down on the floor and roar with laughter."
+
+"But the statuary, Mr. Me," said Mollie. "That was pretty fine I guess,
+wasn't it? I've heard it's a splendid collection."
+
+"Worse than the crockery," laughed the Unwiseman. "There's hardly a
+statue in the whole place that isn't broken. Seems to me they're the
+most careless lot of people over here with their museums. Half the
+statues didn't have any heads on 'em. A good quarter of them had busted
+arms and legs, and on one of 'em there wasn't anything left but a pair
+of shoulder blades and half a wing sticking out at the back. It looked
+more like a quarry than a museum to me, and in a mighty bad state of
+repair even for a quarry. That was where they put me out," the old
+gentleman added.
+
+"Put you out?" cried Mollie. "Oh Mr. Me--you don't mean to say they
+actually put you out of The British Museum?"
+
+"I do indeed," said the Unwiseman with a broad grin on his face. "They
+just grabbed me by my collar and hustled me along the floor to the great
+door and dejected me just as if I didn't have any more feeling than
+their old statues. It's a wonder the way I landed I wasn't as badly
+busted up as they are."
+
+"But what for? You were not misbehaving yourself, were you?" asked
+Mollie, very much disturbed over this latest news.
+
+"Of course not," returned the Unwiseman. "Quite the contrary opposite. I
+was trying to help them. I came across the great big statue of some
+Greek chap--I've forgotten his name--something like Hippopotomes, or
+something of the sort--standing up on a high pedestal, with a sign,
+
+  "HANDS OFF
+
+"hanging down underneath it. When I looked at it I saw at once that it
+not only had its hands off, but was minus a nose, two ears, one
+under-lip and a right leg, so I took out my pencil and wrote underneath
+the words Hands Off:
+
+  "LIKEWISE ONE NOZE
+  ONE PARE OF EARS
+  A LEG AND ONE LIPP
+
+"It seemed to me the sign should ought to be made complete, but I guess
+they thought different, because I'd hardly finished the second P on lip
+when whizz bang, a lot of attendants came rushing up to me and the first
+thing I knew I was out on the street rubbing the back of my head and
+wondering what hit me."
+
+"Poor old chap!" said Mollie sympathetically.
+
+"Guess-you-wisht-you-was-mader-ubber-like-me!" whistled Whistlebinkie
+trying hard to repress his glee.
+
+"What's that?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"I-guess-you-wished-you-were-made-of-rubber-like-me!" explained
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Never in this world," retorted the Unwiseman scornfully. "If I'd been
+made of rubber like you I'd have bounced up and down two or three times
+instead of once, and I'm not so fond of hitting the sidewalk with myself
+as all that. But I didn't mind. I was glad to get out. I was so afraid
+all the time somebody'd come along and accuse me of breaking their old
+things that it was a real relief to find myself out of doors and nothing
+broken that didn't belong to me."
+
+"They didn't break any of your poor old bones, did they?" asked Mollie,
+taking the Unwiseman's hand affectionately in her own.
+
+"No--worse luck--they did worse than that," said the old gentleman
+growing very solemn again. "They broke that bottle of my native land
+that I always carry in my coat-tail pocket and loosened the cork in my
+fog bottle in the other, so that now I haven't more than a pinch of my
+native land with me to keep me from being homesick, and all of the fog I
+was saving up for my collection has escaped. But I don't care. I don't
+believe it was real fog, but just a mixture of soot and steam they're
+trying to pass off for the real thing. Bogus like everything else, and
+as for my native land, I've got enough to last me until I get home if
+I'm careful of it. The only thing I'm afraid of is that in scooping what
+I could of it up off the sidewalk I may have mixed a little British soil
+in with it. I'd hate to have that happen because just at present British
+soil isn't very popular with me."
+
+"Maybe it's bogus too," snickered Whistlebinkie.
+
+"So much the better," said the Unwiseman. "If it ain't real I can manage
+to stand it."
+
+"Then you don't think much of the British Museum?" said Mollie.
+
+"Well it ain't my style," said the Unwiseman, shaking his head
+vigorously. "But there was one thing that pleased me very much about
+it," the old man went on, his eye lighting with real pleasure and his
+voice trembling with patriotic pride, "and that's some of the things
+they didn't have in it. It was full of things the British have captured
+in Greece and Italy and Africa and pretty nearly everywhere
+else--mummies from Egypt, pieces of public libraries from Athens,
+second-story windows from Rome, and little dabs of architecture from
+all over the map except the United States. That made me laugh. They may
+have had Cleopatra's mummy there, but I didn't notice any dried up
+specimens of the Decalculation of Independence lying around in any of
+their old glass cases. They had a whole side wall out of some Roman
+capitol building perched up on a big wooden platform, but I didn't
+notice any domes from the Capitol at Washington or back piazzas from the
+White House on exhibition. There was a lot of busted old statuary from
+Greece all over the place, but nary a statue of Liberty from New York
+harbor, or figger of Andrew Jackson from Philadelphia, or bust of Ralph
+Waldo Longfellow from Boston Common, sitting up there among their
+trophies--only things hooked from the little fellers, and dug up from
+places like Pompey-two-eyes where people have been dead so long they
+really couldn't watch out for their property. It don't take a very
+glorious conqueror to run off with things belonging to people they can
+lick with one hand, and it pleased me so when I couldn't find even a
+finger-post, or a drug-store placard, or a three dollar shoe store sign
+from America in the whole collection that my chest stuck out like a
+pouter pigeon's and bursted my shirt-studs right in two. They'd have had
+a lump chipped off Independence Hall at Philadelphia, or a couple of
+chunks of Bunco Hill, or a sliver off the Washington Monument there all
+right if they could have got away with it, but they couldn't, and I tell
+you I wanted to climb right up top of the roof and sing Yankee Doodle
+and crow like a rooster the minute I noticed it, I felt so good."
+
+"Three cheers for us," roared Whistlebinkie.
+
+"That's the way to talk, Fizzledinkie," cried the old gentleman
+gleefully, and grasping Whistlebinkie by the hand he marched up and down
+Mollie's room singing the Star Spangled Banner--the Unwiseman in his
+excitement called it the Star Spangled Banana--and Columbia the Gem of
+the Ocean at the top of his lungs, and Mollie was soon so thrilled that
+she too joined in.
+
+"Well," said Mollie, when the patriotic ardor of her two companions had
+died down a little. "What are you going to do, Mr. Me? We've got to stay
+here two days more. We don't start for Paris until Saturday."
+
+"O don't bother about me," said the old man pleasantly. "I've got plenty
+to do. I've bought a book called 'French in Five Lessons' and I'm going
+to retire to my carpet-bag until you people are ready to start for
+France. I've figured it out that I can read that book through in two
+days if I don't waste too much of my time eating and sleeping and
+calling on kings and queens and trying to buy duke's clothes for $8.50,
+and snooping around British Museums and pricing specially appointed
+royal muffins, so that by the time you are ready to start for Paris I'll
+be in shape to go along. I don't think it's wise to go into a country
+where they speak another language without knowing just a little about
+it, and if 'French in Five Lessons' is what it ought to be you'll think
+I'm another Joan of Ark when I come out of that carpet-bag."
+
+And so the queer old gentleman climbed into his carpet-bag, which Mollie
+placed for him over near the window where the light was better and
+settled down comfortably to read his new book, "French in Five Lessons."
+
+"I'm glad he's going to stay in there," said Whistlebinkie, as he and
+Mollie started out for a walk in Hyde Park. "Because I wouldn't be a
+bit surprised after all he's told us if the pleese were looking for
+him."
+
+"Neither should I," said Mollie. "If what he says about the British
+Museum is true and they really haven't any things from the United States
+in there, there's nothing they'd like better than to capture an American
+and put him up in a glass case along with those mummies."
+
+All of which seemed to prove that for once the Unwiseman was a very wise
+old person.
+
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+THE UNWISEMAN'S FRENCH
+
+
+The following two days passed very slowly for poor Mollie. It wasn't
+that she was not interested in the wonders of the historic Tower which
+she visited and where she saw all the crown jewels, a lot of dungeons
+and a splendid collection of armor and rare objects connected with
+English history; nor in the large number of other things to be seen in
+and about London from Westminster Abbey to Hampton Court and the Thames,
+but that she was lonesome without the Unwiseman. Both she and
+Whistlebinkie had approached the carpet-bag wherein the old gentleman
+lay hidden several times, and had begged him to come out and join them
+in their wanderings, but he not only wouldn't come out, but would not
+answer them. Possibly he did not hear when they called him, possibly he
+was too deeply taken up by his study of French to bother about anything
+else--whatever it was that caused it, he was as silent as though he
+were deaf and dumb.
+
+"Less-sopen-thbag," suggested Whistlebinkie.
+"I-don'-bleeve-hes-sinthera-tall."
+
+"Oh yes he's in there," said Mollie. "I've heard him squeak two or three
+times."
+
+"Waddeesay?" said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"What?" demanded Mollie, with a slight frown.
+
+"What-did-he-say?" asked Whistlebinkie, more carefully.
+
+"I couldn't quite make out," said Mollie. "Sounded like a little pig
+squeaking."
+
+"I guess it was-sfrench," observed Whistlebinkie with a broad grin.
+"Maybe he was saying Wee-wee-wee. That's what little pigs say, and
+Frenchmen too--I've heard 'em."
+
+"Very likely," said Mollie. "I don't know what wee-wee-wee means in
+little pig-talk, but over in Paris it means, 'O yes indeed, you're
+perfectly right about that.'"
+
+"He'll never be able to learn French," laughed Whistlebinkie. "That is
+not so that he can speak it. Do you think he will?"
+
+"That's what I'm anxious to see him for," said Mollie. "I'm just crazy
+to find out how he is getting along."
+
+But all their efforts to get at the old gentleman were, as I have
+already said, unavailing. They knocked on the bag, and whispered and
+hinted and tried every way to draw him out but it was not until the
+little party was half way across the British Channel, on their way to
+France, that the Unwiseman spoke. Then he cried from the depths of the
+carpet bag:
+
+"Hi there--you people outside, what's going on out there, an
+earthquake?"
+
+"Whatid-i-tellu'" whistled Whistlebinkie. "That ain't French.
+Thass-singlish."
+
+"Hallo-outside ahoy!" came the Unwiseman's voice again. "Slidyvoo la
+slide sur le top de cette carpet-bag ici and let me out!"
+
+"That's French!" cried Mollie clapping her hands ecstatically together.
+
+"Then I understand French too!" said Whistlebinkie proudly, "because I
+know what he wants. He wants to get out."
+
+"Do you want to come out, Mr. Unwiseman?" said Mollie bending over the
+carpet-bag, and whispering through the lock.
+
+"Wee-wee-wee," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"More-pig-talk," laughed Whistlebinkie. "He's the little pig that went
+to market."
+
+"No--it was the little pig that stayed at home that said wee, wee, wee
+all day long," said Mollie.
+
+"Je desire to be lettyd out pretty quick if there's un grand big
+earthquake going on," cried the Unwiseman.
+
+Mollie slid the nickeled latch on the top of the carpet-bag along and in
+a moment it flew open.
+
+"Kesserkersayker what's going on out ici?" demanded the Unwiseman, as he
+popped out of the bag. "Je ne jammy knew such a lot of motiong. London
+Bridge ain't falling down again, is it?"
+
+"No," said Mollie. "We're on the boat crossing the British Channel."
+
+"Oh--that's it eh?" said the Unwiseman gazing about him anxiously, and
+looking rather pale, Mollie thought. "Well I thought it was queer. When
+I went to sleep last night everything was as still as Christmas, and
+when I waked up it was movier than a small boy in a candy store. So
+we're on the ocean again eh?"
+
+"Not exactly," said Mollie. "We're on what they call the Channel."
+
+"Seems to me the waves are just as big as they are on the ocean, and the
+water just as wet," said the Unwiseman, as the ship rose and fell with
+the tremendous swell of the sea, thereby adding much to his uneasiness.
+
+"Yes--but it isn't so wide," explained Mollie. "It isn't more than
+thirty miles across."
+
+"Then I don't see why they don't build a bridge over it," said the
+Unwiseman. "This business of a little bit of a piece of water putting on
+airs like an ocean ought to be put a stop to. This motion has really
+very much unsettled--my French. I feel so queer that I can't remember
+even what _la_ means, and as for _kesserkersay_, I've forgotten if it's
+a horse hair sofa or a pair of brass andirons, and I had it all in my
+head not an hour ago. O--d-dud-dear!"
+
+The Unwiseman plunged headlong into his carpet-bag again and pulled the
+top of it to with a snap.
+
+"Oh my, O me!" he groaned from its depths. "O what a wicked channel to
+behave this way. Mollie--Moll-lie--O Mollie I say."
+
+"Well?" said Mollie.
+
+"Far from it--very unwell," groaned the Unwiseman. "Will you be good
+enough to ask the cook for a little salad oil?"
+
+"Mercy," cried Mollie. "You don't want to mix a salad now do you?"
+
+"Goodness, no!" moaned the Unwiseman. "I want you to pour it on those
+waves and sort of clam them down and then, if you don't mind, take the
+carpet-bag----"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie.
+
+"And chuck it overboard," groaned the Unwiseman. "I--I don't feel as if
+I cared ever to hear the dinner-bell again."
+
+Poor Unwiseman! He was suffering the usual fate of those who cross the
+British Channel, which behaves itself at times as if it really did have
+an idea that it was a great big ocean and had an ocean's work to do. But
+fortunately this uneasy body of water is not very wide, and it was not
+long before the travellers landed safe and sound on the solid shores of
+France, none the worse for their uncomfortable trip.
+
+"I guess you were wise not to throw me overboard after all," said the
+Unwiseman, as he came out of the carpet-bag at Calais. "I feel as fine
+as ever now and my lost French has returned."
+
+"I'd like to hear some," said Mollie.
+
+"Very well," replied the Unwiseman carelessly. "Go ahead and ask me a
+question and I'll answer it in French."
+
+"Hm! Let me see," said Mollie wondering how to begin. "Have you had
+breakfast?"
+
+"Wee Munsieur, j'ay le pain," replied the Unwiseman gravely.
+
+"What does that mean?" asked Mollie, puzzled.
+
+"He says he has a pain," said Whistlebinkie with a smile.
+
+"Pooh! Bosh--nothing of the sort," retorted the Unwiseman. "Pain is
+French for bread. When I say 'j'ay le pain' I mean that I've got the
+bread."
+
+"Are you the jay?" asked Whistlebinkie with mischief in his tone.
+
+"Jay in French is I have--not a bird, stupid," retorted the Unwiseman
+indignantly.
+
+"Funny way to talk," sniffed Whistlebinkie. "I should think pain would
+be a better word for pie, or something else that gives you one."
+
+"That's because you don't know," said the Unwiseman. "In addition to the
+pain I've had oofs."
+
+"Oooffs?" cried Whistlebinkie. "What on earth are oooffs?"
+
+"I didn't say oooffs," retorted the Unwiseman, mocking Whistlebinkie's
+accent. "I said oofs. Oofs is French for eggs. Chickens lay oofs in
+France. I had two hard boiled oofs, and my pain had burr and sooker on
+it."
+
+"Burr and sooker?" asked Mollie, wonderingly.
+
+"I know what burr means--it's French for chestnuts," guessed
+Whistlebinkie. "He had chestnuts on his bread."
+
+"Nothing of the sort," said the Unwiseman. "Burr is French for butter
+and has nothing to do with chestnuts. Over here in France a lady goes
+into a butter store and also says avvy-voo-doo burr, and the man behind
+the counter says wee, wee, wee, jay-doo-burr. Jay le bonn-burr. That
+means, yes indeed I've got some of the best butter in the market,
+ma'am."
+
+"And then what does the lady say?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+The Unwiseman's face flushed, and he looked very much embarrassed. It
+always embarrassed the poor old fellow to have to confess that there was
+something he didn't know. Unwisemen as a rule are very sensitive.
+
+"That's as far as the conversation went in my French in Five Lessons,"
+he replied. "And I think it was far enough. For my part I haven't the
+slightest desire to know what the lady said next. Conversation on the
+subject of butter doesn't interest me. She probably asked him how much
+it was a pound, however, if not knowing what she said is going to keep
+you awake nights."
+
+"What's sooker?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Sooker? O that's what the French people call sugar," explained the
+Unwiseman.
+
+"Pooh!" ejaculated Whistlebinkie, scornfully. "What's the use of calling
+it sooker? Sooker isn't any easier to say than sugar."
+
+"It's very much like it, isn't it?" said Mollie.
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "They just drop the H out of sugar, and put
+in the K in place of the two Gees. I think myself when two words are so
+much alike as sooker and shoogger it's foolish to make two languages of
+'em."
+
+"Tell me something more to eat in French," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Fromidge," said the Unwiseman bluntly.
+
+"Fromidge? What's that!" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Cheese," said the Unwiseman. "If you want a cheese sandwich all you've
+got to do is to walk into a calf--calf is French for restaurant--call
+the waiter and say 'Un sandwich de fromidge, silver plate,' and you'll
+get it if you wait long enough. Silver plate means if you please. The
+French are very polite people."
+
+"But how do you call the waiter?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"You just lean back in a chair and call garkon," said the Unwiseman.
+"That's what the book says, but I've heard Frenchmen in London call it
+gas on. I'm going to stick to the book, because it might turn out to be
+an English waiter and it would be very unpleasant to have him turn the
+gas on every time you called him."
+
+"I should say so," cried Whistlebinkie. "You might get gas fixturated."
+
+"You never would," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"Anybody who isn't choked by your conversation could stand all the gas
+fixtures in the world."
+
+"I don't care much for cheese, anyhow," said Whistlebinkie. "Is there
+any French for Beef?"
+
+"O wee, wee, wee!" replied the Unwiseman. "Beef is buff in French.
+Donny-moi-de-buff--"
+
+"Donny-moi-de-buff!" jeered Whistlebinkie, after a roar of laughter.
+"Sounds like baby-talk."
+
+"Well it ain't," returned the Unwiseman severely. "Even Napoleon
+Bonaparte had to talk that way when he wanted beef and I guess the kind
+of talk that was good enough for a great Umpire like him is good enough
+for a rubber squeak like you."
+
+"Then you like French do you, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Oh yes--well enough," said the Unwiseman. "Of course I like American
+better, but I don't see any sense in making fun of French the way
+Fizzledinkie does. It's got some queer things about it like calling a
+cat a chat, and a man a homm, and a lady a femm, and a dog a chi-enn,
+but in the main it's a pretty good language as far as I have got in it.
+There are one or two things in French that I haven't learned to say
+yet, like 'who left my umbrella out in the rain,' and 'has James
+currycombed the saddle-horse with the black spot on his eye and a
+bob-tail this morning,' and 'was that the plumber or the piano tuner I
+saw coming out of the house of your uncle's brother-in-law yesterday
+afternoon,' but now that I'm pretty familiar with it I'm glad I learned
+it. It is disappointing in some ways, I admit. I've been through French
+in Five Lessons four times now, and I haven't found any conversation in
+it about Kitchen-Stoves, which is going to be very difficult for me when
+I get to Paris and try to explain to people there how fine my
+kitchen-stove is. I'm fond of that old stove, and when these furriners
+begin to talk to me about the grandness of their country, I like to hit
+back with a few remarks about my stove, and I don't just see how I'm
+going to do it."
+
+"What's sky-scraper in French?" demanded Whistlebinkie suddenly.
+
+"They don't have sky-scrapers in French," retorted the old gentleman.
+"So your question, like most of the others you ask, is very very
+foolish."
+
+"You think you can get along all right then, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie,
+gazing proudly at the old man and marvelling as to the amount of study
+he must have done in two days.
+
+"I can if I can only get people talking the way I want 'em to," replied
+the Unwiseman. "I've really learned a lot of very polite conversation.
+For instance something like this:
+
+  "Do you wish to go anywhere?
+  No I do not wish to go anywhere.
+  Why don't you wish to go somewhere?
+  Because I've been everywhere.
+  You must have seen much.
+  No I have seen nothing.
+  Is not that rather strange?
+  No it is rather natural.
+  Why?
+  Because to go everywhere one must travel too rapidly to see anything."
+
+"That you see," the Unwiseman went on, "goes very well at a five o'clock
+tea. The only trouble would be to get it started, but if I once got it
+going right, why I could rattle it off in French as easy as falling off
+a log."
+
+"Smity interesting conversation," said Whistlebinkie really delighted.
+
+"I'm glad you find it so," replied the Unwiseman.
+
+"It's far more interesting in French than it is in English."
+
+"Givus-smore," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Give us what?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"Some-more," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well here is a very nice bit that I can do if somebody gives me the
+chance," said the Unwiseman. "It begins:
+
+  "Lend me your silver backed hand-glass.
+  Certainly. Who is that singing in the drawing room?
+  It is my daughter.
+  It is long since I heard anyone sing so well.
+  She has been taking lessons only two weeks.
+  Does she practice on the phonograph or on her Aunt's upright piano?
+  On neither. She accompanies herself upon the banjo.
+  I think she sings almost as well as Miss S.
+  Miss S. has studied for three weeks but Marietta has a better ear.
+  What is your wife's grandmother knitting?
+  A pair of ear-tabs for my nephew Jacques.
+  Ah--then your nephew Jacques too has an ear?
+  My nephew Jacques has two ears.
+  What a musical family!"
+
+"Spul-lendid!" cried Whistlebinkie rapturously. "When do you think you
+can use that?"
+
+"O I may be invited off to a country house to spend a week, somewhere
+outside of Paris," said the Unwiseman, "and if I am, and the chance
+comes up for me to hold that nice little chat with my host, why it will
+make me very popular with everybody. People like to have you take an
+interest in their children, especially when they are musical. Then I
+have learned this to get off at the breakfast-table to my hostess:
+
+  "I have slept well. I have two mattresses and a spring mattress.
+  Will you have another pillow?
+  No thank you I have a comfortable bolster.
+  Is one blanket sufficient for you?
+  Yes, but I would like some wax candles and a box of matches."
+
+"That will show her that I appreciate all the comforts of her beautiful
+household, and at the same time feel so much at home that I am not
+afraid to ask for something else that I happen to want. The thing that
+worries me a little about the last is that there might be an electric
+light in the room, so that asking for a wax candle and a box of matches
+would sound foolish. I gather from the lesson, however, that it is
+customary in France to ask for wax candles and a box of matches, so I'm
+going to do it anyhow. There's nothing like following the customs of
+the natives when you can."
+
+"I'd like to hear you say some of that in French," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Oh you wouldn't understand it, Whistlebinkie," said the Unwiseman.
+"Still I don't mind."
+
+And the old man rattled off the following:
+
+"Avvy-voo kelker chose ah me dire? Avvy-voo bien dormy la nooit
+dernyere? Savvy-voo kieskersayker cetum la avec le nez rouge?
+Kervooly-voo-too-der-sweet-silver-plate-o-see-le-mem. Donny-moi des
+boogies et des alloomettes avec burr et sooker en tasse. La Voila.
+Kerpensy-voo de cette comedie mon cher mounseer de Whistlebinkie?"
+
+"Mercy!" cried Whistlebinkie. "What a language! I don't believe I _ever_
+could learn to speak it."
+
+"You learn to speak it, Whistlebinkie?" laughed the old gentleman. "You?
+Well I guess not. I don't believe you could even learn to squeak it."
+
+With which observation the Unwiseman hopped back into his carpet-bag,
+for the conductor of the train was seen coming up the platform of the
+railway station, and the old gentleman as usual was travelling without a
+ticket.
+
+"I'd rather be caught by an English conductor if I'm going to be caught
+at all," he remarked after the train had started and he was safe. "For I
+find in looking it over that all my talk in French is polite
+conversation, and I don't think there'd be much chance for that in a row
+with a conductor over a missing railway ticket."
+
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+IN PARIS
+
+
+The Unwiseman was up bright and early the next morning. Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie had barely got their eyes open when he came knocking at
+the door.
+
+"Better get up, Mollie," he called in. "It's fine weather and I'm going
+to call on the Umpire. The chances are that on a beautiful day like this
+he'll have a parade and I wouldn't miss it for a farm."
+
+"What Umpire are you talking about?" Mollie replied, opening the door on
+a crack.
+
+"Why Napoleon Bonaparte," said the Unwiseman. "Didn't you ever hear of
+him? He's the man that came up here from Corsica and picked the crown up
+on the street where the king had dropped it by mistake, and put it on
+his own head and made people think he was the whole roil family. He was
+smart enough for an American and I want to tell him so."
+
+"Why he's dead," said Mollie.
+
+"What?" cried the Unwiseman. "Umpire Napoleon dead? Why--when did that
+happen? I didn't see anything about it in the newspapers."
+
+"He died a long time ago," answered Mollie. "Before I was born, I
+guess."
+
+"Well I never!" ejaculated the Unwiseman, his face clouding over. "That
+book I read on the History of France didn't say anything about his being
+dead--that is, not as far as I got in it. Last time I heard of him he
+was starting out for Russia to give the Czar a licking. I supposed he
+thought it was a good time to do it after the Japs had started the ball
+a-rolling. Are you sure about that?"
+
+"Pretty sure," said Mollie. "I don't know very much about French
+history, but I'm almost certain he's dead."
+
+"I'm going down stairs to ask at the office," said the Unwiseman.
+"They'll probably know all about it."
+
+So the little old gentleman pattered down the hall to the elevator and
+went to the office to inquire as to the fate of the Emperor Napoleon. In
+five minutes he was back again.
+
+"Say, Mollie," he whispered through the key-hole. "I wish you'd ask
+your father about the Umpire. I can't seem to find out anything about
+him."
+
+"Don't they know at the office?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Oh I guess they know all right," said the Unwiseman, "but there's a
+hitch somewhere in my getting the information. Far as I can find out
+these people over here don't understand their own language. I asked 'em
+in French, like this: 'Mounseer le Umpire, est il mort?' And they told
+me he was _no_ more. Now whether _no_ more means that he is not mort, or
+_is_ mort, depends on what language the man who told me was speaking. If
+he was speaking French he's not dead. If he was speaking English he _is_
+dead, and there you are. It's awfully mixed up."
+
+"I-guess-seez-ded-orright," whistled Whistlebinkie. "He was dead last
+time I heard of him, and I guess when they're dead once there dead for
+good."
+
+"Well you never can tell," said the Unwiseman. "He was a very great man,
+the Umpire Napoleon was, and they might have only thought he was dead
+while he was playing foxy to see what the newspapers would say about
+him."
+
+So Mollie asked her father and to the intense regret of everybody it
+turned out that the great Emperor had been dead for a long time.
+
+"It's a very great disappointment to me," sighed the Unwiseman, when
+Mollie conveyed the sad news to him. "The minute I knew we were coming
+to France I began to read up about the country, and Napoleon Bonaparte
+was one of the things I came all the way over to see. Are the Boys de
+Bologna dead too?"
+
+"I never heard of them," said Mollie.
+
+"I feel particularly upset about the Umpire," continued the Unwiseman,
+"because I sat up almost all last night getting up some polite
+conversation to be held with him this morning. I found just the thing
+for it in my book."
+
+"Howdit-go?" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Like this," said the Unwiseman. "I was going to begin with:
+
+  "'Shall you buy a horse?'
+
+"And the Umpire was to say:
+
+  "'I should like to buy a horse from you.'
+
+"And then we were to continue with:
+
+  "'I have no horse but I will sell you my dog.'
+  'You are wrong; dogs are such faithful creatures.'
+  'But my wife prefers cats----'"
+
+"Pooh!" cried Whistlebinkie. "You haven't got any wife."
+
+"Well, what of it?" retorted the Unwiseman. "The Umpire wouldn't know
+that, and besides she _would_ prefer cats if I had one. You should not
+interrupt conversation when other people are talking, Whistlebinkie,
+especially when it's polite conversation."
+
+"Orright-I-pol-gize," whistled Whistlebinkie. "Go on with the rest of
+it."
+
+"I was then going to say:" continued the Unwiseman,
+
+  "'Will you go out this afternoon?'
+  'I should like to go out this afternoon.'
+  'Should you remain here if your mother were here?'
+  'Yes I should remain here even if my aunt were here.'
+  'Had you remained here I should not have gone out.'
+  'I shall have finished when you come.'
+  'As soon as you have received your money come to see me.'
+  'I do not know yet whether we shall leave tomorrow.'
+  'I should have been afraid had you not been with me.'
+  'So long.'
+  'To the river.'"
+
+"To the river?" asked Whistlebinkie. "What does that mean?"
+
+"It is French for, 'I hope we shall meet again.' Au river is the polite
+way of saying, 'good-bye for a little while.' And to think that after
+having sat up until five o'clock this morning learning all that by heart
+I should find that the man I was going to say it to has been dead
+for--how many years, Mollie?"
+
+"Oh nearly a hundred years," said the little girl.
+
+"No wonder it wasn't in the papers before I left home," said the
+Unwiseman. "Oh well, never mind----."
+
+"Perhaps you can swing that talk around so as to fit some French
+Robert," suggested Whistlebinkie.
+
+"The Police are not Roberts over here," said the Unwiseman. "In France
+they are Johns--John Darms is what they call the pleece in this country,
+and I never should think of addressing a conversation designed for an
+Umpire to the plebean ear of a mere John."
+
+"Well I think it was pretty poor conversation," said Whistlebinkie. "And
+I guess it's lucky for you the Umpire is dead. All that stuff didn't
+mean anything."
+
+"It doesn't seem to mean much in English," said the Unwiseman, "but it
+must mean something in French, because if it didn't the man who wrote
+French in Five Lessons wouldn't have considered it important enough to
+print. Just because you don't like a thing, or don't happen to
+understand it, isn't any reason for believing that the Umpire would not
+find it extremely interesting. I shan't waste it on a John anyhow."
+
+An hour or two later when Mollie had breakfasted the Unwiseman presented
+himself again.
+
+"I'm very much afraid I'm not going to like this place any better than I
+did London," he said. "The English people, even if they do drop their
+aitches all over everywhere, understand their own language, which is
+more than these Frenchmen do. I have tried my French on half a dozen of
+them and there wasn't one of 'em that looked as if he knew what I was
+talking about."
+
+"What did you say to them?" asked Mollie.
+
+[Illustration: "HAVE YOU SEEN THE ORMOLU CLOCK OF YOUR SISTER'S MUSIC
+TEACHER?"]
+
+"Well I went up to a cabman and remarked, just as the book put it, 'how
+is the sister of your mother's uncle,' and he acted as if I'd hit him
+with a brick," said the Unwiseman. "Then I stopped a bright looking boy
+out on the rue and said to him, 'have you seen the ormolu clock of your
+sister's music teacher,' to which he should have replied, 'no I have not
+seen the ormolu clock of my sister's music teacher, but the candle-stick
+of the wife of the butcher of my cousin's niece is on the mantel-piece,'
+but all he did was to stick out his tongue at me and laugh."
+
+"You ought to have spoken to one of the John Darms," laughed
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I did," said the Unwiseman. "I stopped one outside the door and asked
+him, 'is your grandfather still alive?' The book says the answer to that
+is 'yes, and my grandmother also,' whereupon I should ask, 'how many
+grandchildren has your grandfather?' But I didn't get beyond the first
+question. Instead of telling me that his grandfather was living, and his
+grandmother also, he said something about Ally Voozon, a person of whom
+I never heard and who is not mentioned in the book at all. I wish I
+was back somewhere where they speak a language somebody can understand."
+
+"Have you had your breakfast?" asked Mollie.
+
+A deep frown came upon the face of the Unwiseman.
+
+"No--" he answered shortly. "I--er--I went to get some but they tried to
+cheat me," he added. "There was a sign in a window announcing French
+Tabble d'hotes. I thought it was some new kind of a breakfast food like
+cracked wheat, or oat-meal flakes, so I stopped in and asked for a small
+box of it, and they tried to make me believe it was a meal of four or
+five courses, with soup and fish and a lot of other things thrown in,
+that had to be eaten on the premises. I wished for once that I knew some
+French conversation that wasn't polite to tell 'em what I thought of
+'em. I can imagine a lot of queer things, but when everybody tells me
+that oats are soup and fish and olives and ice-cream and several other
+things to boot, even in French, why I just don't believe it, that's all.
+What's more I can prove that oats are oats over here because I saw a
+cab-horse eating some. I may not know beans but I know oats, and I told
+'em so. Then the garkon--I know why some people call these French
+waiters gason now, they talk so much--the garkon said I could order _a
+la carte_, and I told him I guessed I could if I wanted to, but until I
+was reduced to a point where I had to eat out of a wagon I wouldn't ask
+his permission."
+
+"Good-for-you!" whistled Whistlebinkie, clapping the Unwiseman on the
+back.
+
+"When a man wants five cents worth of oats it's a regular swindle to try
+to ram forty cents worth of dinner down his throat, especially at
+breakfast time, and I for one just won't have it," said the Unwiseman.
+"By the way, I wouldn't eat any fish over here if I were you, Mollie,"
+he went on.
+
+"Why not?" asked the little girl. "Isn't it fresh?"
+
+"It isn't that," said the Unwiseman. "It's because over here it's
+poison."
+
+"No!" cried Mollie.
+
+"Yep," said the Unwiseman. "They admit it themselves. Just look here."
+
+The old gentleman opened his book on French in Five Lessons, and turned
+to the back pages where English words found their French equivalents.
+
+"See that?" he observed, pointing to the words. "Fish--poison.
+P-O-I-double S-O-N. 'Taint spelled right, but that's what it says."
+
+"It certainly does," said Mollie, very much surprised.
+
+"Smity good thing you had that book or you might have been poisoned,"
+said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I don't believe your father knows about that, does he, Mollie?" asked
+the old man anxiously.
+
+"I'm afraid not," said Mollie. "Leastways, he hasn't said anything to me
+about it, and I'm pretty sure if he'd known it he would have told me not
+to eat any."
+
+"Well you tell him with my compliments," said the Unwiseman. "I like
+your father and I'd hate to have anything happen to him that I could
+prevent. I'm going up the rue now to the Loover to see the pictures."
+
+"Up the what?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Up the rue," said the Unwiseman. "That's what these foolish people over
+here call a street. I'm going up the street. There's a guide down
+stairs who says he'll take me all over Paris in one day for three
+dollars, and we're going to start in ten minutes, after I've had a
+spoonful of my bottled chicken broth and a ginger-snap. Humph! Tabble
+d'hotes--when I've got a bag full of first class food from New York! I
+tell you, Mollie, this travelling around in furry countries makes a man
+depreciate American things more than ever."
+
+"I guess you mean _ap_preciate," suggested Mollie.
+
+"May be I do," returned the Unwiseman. "I mean I like 'em better.
+American oats are better than tabble d'hotes. American beef is better
+than French buff. American butter is better than foreign burr, and while
+their oofs are pretty good, when I eat eggs I want eggs, and not
+something else with a hard-boiled accent on it that twists my tongue out
+of shape. And when people speak a language I like 'em to have one they
+can understand when it's spoken to them like good old Yankamerican."
+
+"Hoorray for-Ramerrica!" cried Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Ditto hic, as Julius Caesar used to say," roared the Unwiseman.
+
+And the Unwiseman took what was left of his bottleful of their native
+land out of his pocket and the three little travellers cheered it until
+the room fairly echoed with the noise. That night when they had gathered
+together again, the Unwiseman looked very tired.
+
+"Well, Mollie," he said, "I've seen it all. That guide down stairs
+showed me everything in the place and I'm going to retire to my
+carpet-bag again until you're ready to start for Kayzoozalum----"
+
+"Swizz-izzer-land," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Switzerland," said Mollie.
+
+"Well wherever it is we're going Alp hunting," said the Unwiseman. "I'm
+too tired to say a word like that to-night. My tongue is all out of
+shape anyhow trying to talk French and I'm not going to speak it any
+more. It's not the sort of language I admire--just full o' nonsense.
+When people call pudding 'poo-dang' and a bird a 'wazzoh' I'm through
+with it. I've seen 8374 miles of pictures; some more busted statuary;
+one cathedral--I thought a cathedral was some kind of an animal with a
+hairy head and a hump on its back, but it's nothing but a big overgrown
+church--; Napoleon's tomb--he is dead after all and France is a
+Republic, as if we didn't have a big enough Republic home without coming
+over here to see another--; one River Seine, which ain't much bigger
+than the Erie Canal, and not a trout or a snapping turtle in it from
+beginning to end; the Boys de Bologna, which is only a Park, with no
+boys or sausages anywhere about it; the Champs Eliza; an obelisk; and
+about sixteen palaces without a King or an Umpire in the whole lot; and
+I've paid three dollars for it, and I'm satisfied. I'd be better
+satisfied if I'd paid a dollar and a half, but you can't travel for
+nothing, and I regard the extra dollar and fifty cents as well spent
+since I've learned what to do next time."
+
+"Wass-that?" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Stay home," said the Unwiseman. "Home's good enough for me and when I
+get there I'm going to stay there. Good night."
+
+And with that the Unwiseman jumped into his carpet-bag and for a week
+nothing more was heard of him.
+
+"I hope he isn't sick," said Whistlebinkie, at the end of that period.
+"I think we ought to go and find out, don't you, Mollie."
+
+"I certainly do," said Mollie. "I know I should be just stufficated to
+death if I'd spent a week in a carpet-bag."
+
+So they tip-toed up to the side of the carpet-bag and listened. At first
+there was no sound to be heard, and then all of a sudden their fears
+were set completely at rest by the cracked voice of their strange old
+friend singing the following patriotic ballad of his own composition:
+
+  "Next time I start out for to travel abroad
+    I'll go where pure English is spoken.
+  I'll put on my shoes and go sailing toward
+    The beautiful land of Hoboken.
+
+  "No more on that movey old channel I'll sail,
+    The sickening waves to be tossed on,
+  But do all my travelling later by rail
+    And visit that frigid old Boston.
+
+  "Nay never again will I step on a ship
+    And go as a part of the cargo,
+  But when I would travel I'll make my next trip
+    Out west to the town of Chicago.
+
+  "My sweet carpet-bag, you will never again
+    Be called on to cross the Atlantic.
+  We'll just buy a ticket and take the first train
+    To marvellous old Williamantic.
+
+  "No French in the future will I ever speak
+    With strange and impossible, answers.
+  I'd rather go in for that curious Greek
+    The natives all speak in Arkansas.
+
+  "To London and Paris let other folks go
+    I'm utterly cured of the mania.
+  Hereafter it's me for the glad Ohi-o,
+    Or down in dear sweet Pennsylvania.
+
+  "If any one asks me to cross o'er the sea
+    I'll answer them promptly, 'No thanky--
+  There's beauty enough all around here for me
+    In this glorious land of the Yankee.'"
+
+Mollie laughed as the Unwiseman's voice died away.
+
+"I guess he's all right, Whistlebinkie," she said. "Anybody who can sing
+like that can't be very sick."
+
+"No I guess not," said Whistlebinkie. "He seems to have got his tongue
+out of tangle again. I was awfully worried about that."
+
+"Why, dear?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Because," said Whistlebinkie, "I was afraid if he didn't he'd begin to
+talk like me and that would be perf'ly awful."
+
+
+
+
+X.
+
+THE ALPS AT LAST
+
+
+When the Unwiseman came out of the carpet-bag again the travellers had
+reached Switzerland. Every effort that Mollie and Whistlebinkie made to
+induce him to come forth and go about Paris with them had wholly failed.
+
+"It's more comfortable in here," he had answered them, "and I've got my
+hands full forgetting all that useless French I learned last week. It's
+very curious how much harder it is to forget French than it is to learn
+it. I've been four days forgetting that wazzoh means bird and that oofs
+is eggs."
+
+"And you haven't forgotten it yet, have you," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"O yes," said the Unwiseman. "I've forgotten it entirely. It
+occasionally occurs to me that it is so when people mention the fact,
+but in the main I am now able to overlook it. I'll be glad when we are
+on our way again, Mollie, because between you and me I think they're a
+lot of frauds here too, just like over in England. They've got a statue
+here of a lady named Miss Jones of Ark and I _know_ there wasn't any
+such person on it. Shem and Ham and Japhet and their wives, and Noah,
+and Mrs. Noah were there but no Miss Jones."
+
+"Maybe Mrs. Noah or Mrs. Shem or one of the others was Miss Jones before
+she married Mr. Noah or Shem, Ham or Japhet," suggested Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Then they should ought to have said so," said the Unwiseman, "and put
+up the statue to Mrs. Noah or Mrs. Shem or Mrs. Ham or Mrs. Japhet--but
+they weren't the same person because this Miss Jones got burnt cooking a
+steak and Mrs. Noah and Mrs. Ham and Mrs. Shem and Mrs. Japhet didn't.
+Miss Jones was a great general according to these people and there
+wasn't any military at all in the time of Noah for a lady to be general
+of, so the thing just can't help being a put up job just to deceive us
+Americans into coming over here to see their curiosities and paying
+guides three dollars for leading us to them."
+
+"Then you won't come with us out to Versailles?" asked Mollie very much
+disappointed.
+
+"Versailles?" asked the Unwiseman. "What kind of sails are Versailles?
+Some kind of a French cat-boat? If so, none of that for me. I'm not fond
+of sailing."
+
+"It's a town with a beautiful palace in it," explained Mollie.
+
+"That settles it," said the Unwiseman. "I'll stay here. I've seen all
+the palaces without any kings in 'em that I need in my business, so you
+can just count me out. I may go out shopping this afternoon and buy an
+air-gun to shoot alps with when we get to--ha--hum----"
+
+"Switzerland," prompted Mollie hurriedly, largely with the desire to
+keep Whistlebinkie from speaking of Swiz-izzer-land.
+
+"Precisely," said the Unwiseman. "If you'd given me time I'd have
+said it myself. I've been practising on that name ever since yesterday
+and I've got so I can say it right five times out of 'leven.
+And I'm learning to yodel too. I have discovered that down
+in--ha--hum--Swztoozalum, when people don't feel like speaking French,
+they yodel, and I think I can get along better in yodeling than I can in
+French. I'm going to try it anyhow. So run along and have a good time
+and don't worry about me. I'm having a fine time. Yodeling is really
+lots of fun. Trala-la-lio!"
+
+So Mollie and Whistlebinkie went to Versailles, which by the way is not
+pronounced Ver-sails, but Ver-sai-ee, and left the Unwiseman to his own
+devices. A week later the party arrived at Chamounix, a beautiful little
+Swiss village lying in the valley at the base of Mont Blanc, the most
+famous of all the Alps.
+
+"Looks-slike-a-gray-big-snow-ball," whistled Whistlebinkie, gazing
+admiringly at the wonderful mountain glistening like a huge mass of
+silver in the sunlight.
+
+"It is beautiful," said Mollie. "We must get the Unwiseman out to see
+it."
+
+"I'll call him," said Whistlebinkie eagerly; and the little rubber-doll
+bounded off to the carpet-bag as fast as his legs would carry him.
+
+"Hi there, Mister Me," he called breathlessly through the key-hole.
+"Come out. There's a nalp out in front of the hotel."
+
+"Tra-la-lulio-tra-la-lali-ee," yodeled the cracked little voice from
+within. "Tra-la-la-la-lalio."
+
+"Hullo there," cried Whistlebinkie again. "Stop that tra-la-lody-ing and
+hurry out, there's a-nalp in front of the hotel."
+
+"A nalp?" said the Unwiseman popping his head up from the middle of the
+bag for all the world like a Jack-in-the-box. "What's a nalp?"
+
+"A-alp," explained Whistlebinkie, as clearly as he could--he was so out
+of breath he could hardly squeak, much less speak.
+
+"Really?" cried the Unwiseman, all excitement. "Dear me--glad you called
+me. Is he loose?"
+
+"Well," hesitated Whistlebinkie, hardly knowing how to answer,
+"it-ain't-exactly-tied up, I guess."
+
+"Ain't any danger of its coming into the house and biting people, is
+there?" asked the Unwiseman, rummaging through the carpet-bag for his
+air-gun, which he had purchased in Paris while the others were visiting
+Versailles.
+
+"No," laughed Whistlebinkie. "Tstoo-big."
+
+"Mercy--it must be a fearful big one," said the Unwiseman. "I hope it's
+muzzled."
+
+Armed with his air-gun, and carrying a long rope with a noose in one end
+over his arm, the Unwiseman started out.
+
+"Watcher-gone-'tdo-with-the-lassoo?" panted Whistlebinkie, struggling
+manfully to keep up with his companion.
+
+"That's to tie him up with in case I catch him alive," said the
+Unwiseman, as they emerged from the door of the hotel and stood upon the
+little hotel piazza from which all the new arrivals were gazing at the
+wonderful peak before them, rising over sixteen thousand feet into the
+heavens, and capped forever with a crown of snow and ice.
+
+[Illustration: "OUT THE WAY THERE!" CRIED THE UNWISEMAN]
+
+"Out the way there!" cried the Unwiseman, rushing valiantly through the
+group. "Out the way, and don't talk or even yodel. I must have a steady
+aim, and conversation disturbs my nerves."
+
+The hotel guests all stepped hastily to one side and made room for the
+hero, who on reaching the edge of the piazza stopped short and gazed
+about him with a puzzled look on his face.
+
+"Well," he cried impatiently, "where is he?"
+
+"Where is what?" asked Mollie, stepping up to the Unwiseman's side and
+putting her hand affectionately on his shoulder.
+
+"That Alp?" said the Unwiseman. "Whistlebinkie said there was an alp
+running around the yard and I've come down either to catch him alive or
+shoot him. He hasn't hid under this piazza, has he?"
+
+"No, Mr. Me," she said. "They couldn't get an Alp under this piazza.
+That's it over there," she added, pointing out Mont Blanc.
+
+"What's it? I don't see anything but a big snow drift," said the
+Unwiseman. "Queer sort of people here--must be awful lazy not to have
+their snow shoveled off as late as July."
+
+"That's the Alp," explained Mollie.
+
+"Tra-la-lolly-O!" yodeled the Unwiseman. "Which is yodelese for
+nonsense. That an Alp? Why I thought an Alp was a sort of animal with a
+shaggy fur coat like a bear or a chauffeur, and about the size of a
+rhinoceros."
+
+"No," said Mollie. "An Alp is a mountain. All that big range of
+mountains with snow and ice on top of them are the Alps. Didn't you know
+that?"
+
+The Unwiseman didn't answer, but with a yodel of disgust turned on his
+heel and went back to his carpet-bag.
+
+"You aren't mad at me, are you, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie, following meekly
+after.
+
+"No indeed," said the Unwiseman, sadly. "Of course not. It isn't your
+fault if an Alp is a toboggan slide or a skating rink instead of a wild
+animal. It's all my own fault. I was very careless to come over here and
+waste my time to see a lot of snow that ain't any colder or wetter than
+the stuff we have delivered at our front doors at home in winter. I
+should ought to have found out what it was before I came."
+
+"It's very beautiful though as it is," suggested Mollie.
+
+"I suppose so," said the Unwiseman. "But I don't have to travel four
+thousand miles to see beautiful things while I have my kitchen-stove
+right there in my own kitchen. Besides I've spent a dollar and twenty
+cents on an air-gun, and sixty cents for a lassoo to hunt Alps with,
+when I might better have bought a snow shovel. _That's_ really what I'm
+mad at. If I'd bought a snow shovel and a pair of ear-tabs I could have
+made some money here offering to shovel the snow off that hill there
+so's somebody could get some pleasure out of it. It would be a lovely
+place to go and sit on a warm summer evening if it wasn't for that snow
+and very likely they'd have paid me two or three dollars for fixing it
+up for them."
+
+"I guess it would take you several hours to do it," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"What if it took a week?" retorted the Unwiseman. "As long as they were
+willing to pay for it. But what's the use of talking about it? I haven't
+got a shovel, and I can't shovel the snow off an Alp with an air-gun, so
+that's the end of it."
+
+And for the time being that _was_ the end of it. The Unwiseman very
+properly confined himself to the quiet of the carpet-bag until his wrath
+had entirely disappeared, and after luncheon he turned up cheerily in
+the office of the hotel.
+
+"Let's hire a couple of sleds and go coasting," he suggested to Mollie.
+"That Mount Blank looks like a pretty good hill. Whistlebinkie and I can
+pull you up to the top and it will be a fine slide coming back."
+
+But inquiry at the office brought out the extraordinary fact that there
+were no sleds in the place and never had been.
+
+"My goodness!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "I never knew such people. I
+don't wonder these Switzers ain't a great nation like us Americans. I
+don't believe any American hotel-keeper would have as much snow as that
+in his back-yard all summer long and not have a regular sled company to
+accommodate guests who wanted to go coasting on it. If they had an Alp
+like that over at Atlantic City they'd build a fence around it, and
+charge ten cents to get inside, where you could hire a colored gentleman
+to haul you up to the top of the hill and guide you down again on the
+return slide."
+
+"I guess they would," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Then they'd turn part of it into an ice quarry," the Unwiseman went on,
+"and sell great huge chunks of ice to people all the year round and put
+the regular ice men out of business. I've half a mind to write home to
+my burgular and tell him here's a chance to earn an honest living as an
+iceman. He could get up a company to come here and buy up that hill and
+just regularly go in for ice-mining. There never was such a chance. If
+people can make money out of coal mines and gold mines and copper
+mines, I don't see why they can't do the same thing with ice mines. Why
+don't you speak to your Papa about it, Mollie? He'd make his everlasting
+fortune."
+
+"I will," said Mollie, very much interested in the idea.
+
+"And all that snow up there going to waste too," continued the Unwiseman
+growing enthusiastic over the prospect. "Just think of the millions of
+people who can't get cool in summer over home. Your father could sell
+snow to people in midsummer for six-fifty a ton, and they could shovel
+it into their furnaces and cool off their homes ten or twenty degrees
+all summer long. My goodness--talk about your billionaires--here's a
+chance for squillions."
+
+The Unwiseman paced the floor excitedly. The vision of wealth that
+loomed up before his mind's eye was so vast that he could hardly contain
+himself in the face of it.
+
+"Wouldn't it all melt before he could get it over to America?" asked
+Mollie.
+
+"Why should it?" demanded the Unwiseman. "If it don't melt here in
+summer time why should it melt anywhere else? I don't believe snow was
+ever disagreeable just for the pleasure of being so."
+
+"Wouldn't it cost a lot to take it over?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Not if the Company owned its own ships," said the Unwiseman. "If the
+Company owned its own ships it could carry it over for nothing."
+
+The Unwiseman was so carried away with the possibilities of his plan
+that for several days he could talk of nothing else, and several times
+Mollie and Whistlebinkie found him working in the writing room of the
+hotel on what he called his Perspectus.
+
+"I'm going to work out that idea of mine, Mollie," he explained, "so
+that you can show it to your father and maybe he'll take it up, and if
+he does--well, I'll have a man to exercise my umbrella, a pair of wings
+built on my house where I can put a music room and a library, and have
+my kitchen-stove nickel plated as it deserves to be for having served me
+so faithfully for so many years."
+
+An hour or two later, his face beaming with pleasure, the Unwiseman
+brought Mollie his completed "Perspectus" with the request that she
+show it to her father. It read as follows:
+
+THE SWITZER SNOW AND ICE CO.
+
+THE UNWISEMAN, _President_.
+
+MR. MOLLIE J. WHISTLEBINKIE, _Vice-President_.
+
+A. BURGULAR, _Seketary and Treasurer_.
+
+      I. To purchase all right, title, and interest in one first class
+      Alp known as Mount Blank, a snow-clad peak located at
+      Switzerville, Europe. For further perticulars, see Map if you have
+      one handy that is any good and has been prepared by somebody what
+      has studied jography before.
+
+      II. To orginize the Mount Blank Toboggan Slide and Sled Company
+      and build a fence around it for the benefit of the young at ten
+      cents ahead, using the surplus snow and ice on Mount Blank for
+      this purpose. Midsummer coasting a speciality.
+
+      III. To mine ice and to sell the same by the pound, ton, yard, or
+      shipload, to Americans at one cent less a pound, ton, yard, or
+      shipload, than they are now paying to unscrupulous ice-men at
+      home, thereby putting them out of business and bringing ice in
+      midsummer within the reach of persons of modest means to keep
+      their provisions on, who without it suffer greatly from the heat
+      and are sometimes sun-struck.
+
+      IV. To gather and sell snow to the American people in summer time
+      for the purpose of cooling off their houses by throwing the same
+      into the furnace like coal in winter, thereby taking down the
+      thermometer two or three inches and making fans unnecessary, and
+      killing mosquitoes, flies and other animals that ain't of any use
+      and can only live in warm weather.
+
+      V. Also to sell a finer quality of snow for use at children's
+      parties in the United States of America in July and August where
+      snow-ball fights are not now possible owing to the extreme
+      tenderness of the snow at present provided by the American climate
+      which causes it to melt along about the end of March and disappear
+      entirely before the beginning of May.
+
+      VI. Also to sell snow at redoosed rates to people at Christmas
+      Time when they don't always have it as they should ought to have
+      if Christmas is to look anything like the real thing and give boys
+      and girls a chance to try their new sleds and see if they are as
+      good as they are cracked up to be instead of having to be put away
+      as they sometimes are until February and even then it don't always
+      last.
+
+      This Company has already been formed by Mr. Thomas S. Me, better
+      known as the Unwiseman, who is hereby elected President thereof,
+      with a capital of ten million dollars of which three dollars has
+      already been paid in to Mr. Me as temporary treasurer by himself
+      in real money which may be seen upon application as a guarantee of
+      good faith. The remaining nine million nine hundred and
+      ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven dollars worth
+      is offered to the public at one dollar a share payable in any kind
+      of money that will circulate freely, one half of which will be
+      used as profits for the next five years while the Company is
+      getting used to its new business, and the rest will be spent under
+      the direction of the President as he sees fit, it being understood
+      that none of it shall be used to buy eclairs or other personal
+      property with.
+
+"There," said the Unwiseman, as he finished the prospectus. "Just you
+hand that over to your father, Mollie, and see what he says. If he don't
+start the ball a-rolling and buy that old Mountain before we leave this
+place I shall be very much surprised."
+
+But the Unwiseman's grand scheme never went through for Mollie's father
+upon inquiry found that nobody about Chamounix cared to sell his
+interest in the mountain, or even to suggest a price for it.
+
+"They're afraid to sell it I imagine," said Mollie's father, "for fear
+the new purchasers would dig it up altogether and take it over to the
+United States. You see if that were to happen it would leave an awfully
+big hole in the place where Mount Blank used to be and there'd be a lot
+of trouble getting it filled in."
+
+For all of which I am sincerely sorry because there are times in
+midsummer in America when I would give a great deal if some such
+enterprise as a "Switzer Snow & Ice Co." would dump a few tons of snow
+into my cellar for use in the furnace.
+
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+THE UNWISEMAN PLANS A CHAMOIS COMPANY
+
+
+The Unwiseman's disappointment over the failure of his Switzer Snow &
+Ice Company was very keen at first and the strange old gentleman was
+inclined to be as thoroughly disgusted with Switzerland as he had been
+with London and Paris. He was especially put out when, after travelling
+seven or eight miles to see a "glazier," as he called it, he discovered
+that a glacier was not a frozen "window-pane mender" but a stream of ice
+flowing perennially down from the Alpine summits into the valleys.
+
+"They bank too much on their snow-drifts over here," he remarked, after
+he had visited the _Mer-de-Glace_. "I wouldn't give seven cents to _see_
+a thing like that when I've been brought up close to New York where we
+have blizzards every once in a while that tie up the whole city till it
+looks like one glorious big snow-ball fight."
+
+And then when he wanted to go fishing in one of the big fissures of the
+glacier, and was told he could drop a million lines down there without
+getting a bite of any kind he announced his intention of getting out of
+the country as soon as he possibly could. But after all the Unwiseman
+had a naturally sun-shiny disposition and this added to the wonderful
+air of Switzerland, which in itself is one of the most beautiful things
+in a beautiful world, soon brought him out of his sulky fit and set him
+to yodeling once more as gaily as a Swiss Mountain boy. He began to see
+some of the beauties of the country and his active little mind was not
+slow at discovering advantages not always clear to people with less
+inquisitiveness.
+
+"I should think," he observed to Mollie one morning as he gazed up at
+Mount Blanc's pure white summit, "that this would be a great ice-cream
+country. I'd like to try the experiment of pasturing a lot of fine
+Jersey cows up on those ice-fields. Just let 'em browze around one of
+those glaciers every day for a week and give 'em a cupful of vanilla, or
+chocolate extract or a strawberry once in a while and see if they
+wouldn't give ice-cream instead o' milk. It would be worth trying,
+anyhow."
+
+Mollie thought it would and Whistlebinkie gave voice to a long low
+whistle of delight at the idea.
+
+"It-ud-be-bettern-soder-watter-rany-way!" he whistled.
+
+"Anything would be better than soda water," said the Unwiseman, who had
+only tried it once and got nothing but the bubbles. "Soda water's too
+foamy for me. It's like drinking whipped air."
+
+But the thing that pleased the Unwiseman more than anything else was a
+pet chamois that he encountered at a little Swiss Chalet on one of his
+tours of investigation. It was a cunning little animal, very timid of
+course, like a fawn, but tame, and for some reason or other it took
+quite a fancy to the Unwiseman--possibly because he looked so like a
+Swiss Mountain Boy with a peaked cap he had purchased, and ribbons wound
+criss-cross around his calves and his magnificent Alpen-stock upon which
+had been burned the names of all the Alps he had _not_ climbed. And then
+the Unwiseman's yodel had become something unusually fine and original
+in the line of yodeling, which may have attracted the chamois and made
+him feel that the Unwiseman was a person to be trusted. At any rate the
+little animal instead of running away and jumping from crag to crag at
+the Unwiseman's approach, as most chamois would do, came inquiringly up
+to him and stuck out its soft velvety nose to be scratched, and
+permitted the Unwiseman to inspect its horns and silky chestnut-brown
+coat as if it recognized in the little old man a true and tried friend
+of long standing.
+
+"Why you little beauty you!" cried the Unwiseman, as he sat on the fence
+and stroked the beautiful creature's neck. "So you're what they call a
+shammy, eh?"
+
+The chamois turned its lovely eyes upon his new found friend, and then
+lowered his head to have it scratched again.
+
+  "Mary had a little sham
+    Whose hide was soft as cotton,
+  And everywhere that Mary went
+    The shammy too went trottin'."
+
+sang the Unwiseman, dropping into poetry as was one of his habits when
+he was deeply moved.
+
+[Illustration: THE CHAMOIS EVIDENTLY LIKED THIS VERSE FOR ITS EYES
+TWINKLED]
+
+The chamois evidently liked this verse for its eyes twinkled and it laid
+its head gently on the Unwiseman's knee and looked at him appealingly as
+if to say, "More of that poetry please. You are a bard after my own
+heart." So the Unwiseman went on, keeping time to his verse by slight
+taps on the chamois' nose.
+
+  "It followed her to town one day
+    Unto the Country Fair,
+  And earned five hundred dollars just
+    In shining silver-ware."
+
+Whistlebinkie indulged in a loud whistle of mirth at this, which so
+startled the little creature that it leapt backward fifteen feet in the
+air and landed on top of a small pump at the rear of the yard, and stood
+there poised on its four feet just like the chamois we see in pictures
+standing on a sharp peak miles up in the air, trembling just a little
+for fear that Whistlebinkie's squeak would be repeated. A moment of
+silence seemed to cure this, however, for in less than two minutes it
+was back again at the Unwiseman's side gazing soulfully at him as if
+demanding yet another verse. Of course the Unwiseman could not
+resist--he never could when people demanded poetry from him, it came
+so very easy--and so he continued:
+
+  "The children at the Country Fair
+    Indulged in merry squawks
+  To see the shammy polishing
+    The family knives and forks.
+
+  "The tablespoons, and coffee pots,
+    The platters and tureens,
+  The top of the mahogany,
+    And crystal fire-screens."
+
+"More!" pleaded the chamois with his soft eyes, snuggling its head close
+into the Unwiseman's lap, and the old gentleman went on:
+
+  "'O isn't he a wondrous kid!'
+    The wondering children cried.
+  We didn't know a shammy could
+    Do such things if he tried.
+
+  "And Mary answered with a smile
+    That dimpled up her chin
+  'There's much that shammy's cannot do,
+  But much that shammy-skin.'"
+
+Whistlebinkie's behavior at this point became so utterly and inexcusably
+boisterous with mirth that the confiding little chamois was again
+frightened away and this time it gave three rapid leaps into the air
+which landed it ultimately upon the ridge-pole of the chalet, from
+which it wholly refused to descend, in spite of all the persuasion in
+the world, for the rest of the afternoon.
+
+"Very intelligent little animal that," said the Unwiseman, as he trudged
+his way home. "A very high appreciation of true poetry, inclined to make
+friendship with the worthy, and properly mistrustful of people full of
+strange noises and squeaks."
+
+"He was awfully pretty, wasn't he," said Mollie.
+
+"Yes, but he was better than pretty," observed the Unwiseman. "He could
+be made useful. Things that are only pretty are all very well in their
+way, but give me the useful things--like my kitchen-stove for instance.
+If that kitchen-stove was only pretty do you suppose I'd love it the way
+I do? Not at all. I'd just put it on the mantel-piece, or on the piano
+in my parlor and never think of it a second time, but because it is
+useful I pay attention to it every day, polish it with stove polish,
+feed it with coal and see that the ashes are removed from it when its
+day's work is done. Nobody ever thinks of doing such things with a plain
+piece of bric-a-brac that can't be used for anything at all. You don't
+put any coal or stove polish on that big Chinese vase you have in your
+parlor, do you?"
+
+"No," said Mollie, "of course not."
+
+"And I'll warrant that in all the time you've had that opal glass jug on
+the mantel-piece of your library you never shook the ashes down in it
+once," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"Mity-goo-dreeson-wy!" whistled Whistlebinkie. "They-ain't never no
+ashes in it."
+
+"Correct though ungrammatically expressed," observed the Unwiseman.
+"There never are any ashes in it to be shaken down, which is a pretty
+good reason to believe that it is never used to fry potatoes on or to
+cook a chop with, or to roast a turkey in--which proves exactly what I
+say that it is only pretty and isn't half as useful as my
+kitchen-stove."
+
+"It would be pretty hard to find anything useful for the bric-a-brac to
+do though," suggested Mollie, who loved pretty things whether they had
+any other use or not.
+
+"It all depends on your bric-a-brac," said the Unwiseman. "I can find
+plenty of useful things for mine to do. There's my coal scuttle for
+instance--it works all the time."
+
+"Coal-scuttles ain't bric-a-brac," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"My coal scuttle is," said the Unwiseman. "It's got a picture of a daisy
+painted on one side of it, and I gilded the handle myself. Then there's
+my watering pot. That's just as bric-a-bracky as any Chinese china pot
+that ever lived, but it's useful. I use it to water the flowers in
+summer, and to sift my lump sugar through in winter. Every pound of lump
+sugar you buy has some fine sugar with it and if you shake the lump
+sugar up in a watering pot and let the fine sugar sift through the
+nozzle you get two kinds of sugar for the price of one. So it goes all
+through my house from my piano to my old beaver hat--every bit of my
+bric-a-brac is useful."
+
+"Wattonearth do-you-do with a-nold beevor-at?" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I use it as a post-office box to mail cross letters in," said the
+Unwiseman gravely. "It's saved me lots of trouble."
+
+"Cross letters?" asked Mollie. "You never write cross letters to anybody
+do you?"
+
+"I'm doing it all the time," said the Unwiseman. "Whenever anything
+happens that I don't like I sit down and write a terrible letter to the
+people that do it. That eases off my feelings, and then I mail the
+letters in the hat."
+
+"And does the Post-man come and get them?" asked Mollie.
+
+"No indeed," said the Unwiseman. "That's where the beauty of the scheme
+comes in. If I mailed 'em in the post-office box on the lamp-post, the
+post-man would take 'em and deliver them to the man they're addressed to
+and I'd be in all sorts of trouble. But when I mail them in my hat
+nobody comes for them and nobody gets them, and so there's no trouble
+for anybody anywhere."
+
+"But what becomes of them?" asked Mollie.
+
+"I empty the hat on the first Tuesday after the first Monday of every
+month and use them for kindling in my kitchen-stove," said the
+Unwiseman. "It's a fine scheme. I keep out of trouble, don't have to buy
+so much kindling wood, and save postage."
+
+"That sounds like a pretty good idea," said Mollie.
+
+"It's a first class idea," returned Mr. Me, "and I'm proud of it. It's
+all my own and if I had time I'd patent it. Why I was invited to a party
+once by a small boy who'd thrown a snow-ball at my house and wet one of
+the shingles up where I keep my leak, and I was so angry that I sat down
+and wrote back that I regretted very much to be delighted to say that
+I'd never go to a party at his house if it was the only party in the
+world besides the Republican; that I didn't like him, and thought his
+mother's new spring bonnet was most unbecoming and that I'd heard his
+father had been mentioned for Alderman in our town and all sorts of
+disgraceful things like that. I mailed this right in my hat and used it
+to boil an egg with a month later, while if I'd mailed it in the
+post-office box that boy'd have got it and I couldn't have gone to his
+party at all."
+
+"Oh--you went, did you?" laughed Mollie.
+
+"I did and I had a fine time, six eclairs, three plates of ice cream, a
+pound of chicken salad, and a pocketful of nuts and raisins," said the
+Unwiseman. "He turned out to be a very nice boy, and his mother's spring
+bonnet wasn't hers at all but another lady's altogether, and his father
+had not even been mentioned for Water Commissioner. You see, my dear,
+what a lot of trouble mailing that letter in the old beaver hat saved
+me, not to mention what I earned in the way of food by going to the
+party which I couldn't have done had it been mailed in the regular way."
+
+Here the old gentleman began to yodel happily, and to tell passersby in
+song that he was a "Gay Swiss Laddy with a carpet-bag, That never knew
+fear of the Alpine crag, For his eye was bright and his conscience
+clear, As he leapt his way through the atmosphere, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
+Trala-lolly-O."
+
+"I do-see-how-yood-make-that-shammy-useful," said Whistlebinkie. "Except
+to try your poems on and I don't b'lieve he's a good judge o' potery."
+
+"He's a splendid judge of queer noises," said the Unwiseman, severely.
+"He knew enough to jump a mile whenever you squeaked."
+
+"Watt-else-coodie-doo?" asked Whistlebinkie through his hat. "You
+haven't any silver to keep polished and there aren't enough queer noises
+about your place to keep him busy."
+
+"What else coodie-do?" retorted the Unwiseman, giving an imitation of
+Whistlebinkie that set both Mollie and the rubber doll to giggling. "Why
+he could polish up the handle of my big front door for one thing. He
+could lie down on his back and wiggle around the floor and make it shine
+like a lookin' glass for another. He could rub up against my kitchen
+stove and keep it bright and shining for a third--that's some of the
+things he couldie-doo, but I wouldn't confine him to work around my
+house. I'd lead him around among the neighbors and hire him out for
+fifty cents a day for general shammy-skin house-work. I dare say
+Mollie's mother would be glad to have a real live shammy around that she
+could rub her tea-kettles and coffee pots on when it comes to cleaning
+the silver."
+
+"They can buy all the shammys they need at the grocer's," said
+Whistlebinkie scornfully.
+
+"Dead ones," said the Unwiseman, "but nary a live shammy have you seen
+at the grocer's or the butcher's or the milliner's or the piano-tuner's.
+That's where Wigglethorpe----"
+
+"Wigglethorpe?" cried Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Yes Wigglethorpe," repeated the Unwiseman. "That's what I have decided
+to call my shammy when I get him because he will wiggle."
+
+"He don't thorpe, does he?" laughed Whistlebinkie.
+
+"He thorpes just as much as you bink," retorted the Unwiseman. "But as I
+was saying, Wigglethorpe, being alive, will be better than any ten dead
+ones because he won't wear out, maids won't leave him around on the
+parlor floor, and just because he wiggles, the silver and the hardwood
+floors and front door handles will be polished up in half the time it
+takes to do it with a dead one. At fifty cents a day I could earn three
+dollars a week on Wigglethorpe----"
+
+"Which would be all profit if you fed him on potery," said Whistlebinkie
+with a grin.
+
+"And if I imported a hundred of them after I found that Wigglethorpe was
+successful," the Unwiseman continued, very wisely ignoring
+Whistlebinkie's sarcasm, "that would be--hum--ha----"
+
+"Three hundred dollars a week," prompted Mollie.
+
+"Exactly," said the Unwiseman, "which in a year would amount
+to--ahem--three times three hundred and sixty-five is nine, twice nine
+is----"
+
+"It comes to $15,600 a year," said Mollie.
+
+"Right to a penny," said the Unwiseman. "I was figuring it out by the
+day. Fifteen thousand six hundred dollars a year is a big sum of money
+and reckoned in eclairs at fifty eclairs for a dollar is--er--is--well
+you couldn't eat 'em if you tried, there'd be so many."
+
+"Seven hundred and eighty thousand eclairs," said Mollie.
+
+"That's what I said," said the Unwiseman. "You just couldn't eat 'em,
+but you could sell 'em, so really you'd have two businesses right away,
+shammys and eclaires."
+
+"Mitey-big-biziness," hissed Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman, "I think I'll suggest it to my burgular when
+I get home. It seems to me to be more honorable then burguling and it's
+just possible that after a summer spent in the uplifting company of my
+kitchen stove and having got used to the pleasant conversation of my
+leak, and seen how peaceful it is to just spend your days exercising a
+sweet gentle umbrella like mine, he'll want to reform and go into
+something else that he can do in the day-time."
+
+By this time the little party had reached the hotel, and Mollie's father
+was delighted to hear of the Unwiseman's proposition. It was an entirely
+new idea, he said, although he was doubtful if it was a good business
+for a burgular.
+
+"People might not be willing to trust him with their silver," he said.
+
+"Very well then," said the Unwiseman. "Let him begin on front door knobs
+and parlor floors. He's not likely to run away with those."
+
+The next day the travellers left Switzerland and when I next caught
+sight of them they had arrived at Venice.
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+VENICE
+
+
+It was late at night when Mollie and her friends arrived at Venice and
+the Unwiseman, sleeping peacefully as he was in the cavernous depths of
+his carpet-bag, did not get his first glimpse of the lovely city of the
+waters until he waked up the next morning. Unfortunately--or possibly it
+was a fortunate circumstance--the old gentleman had heard of Venice only
+in a very vague way before, and had no more idea of its peculiarities
+than he had of those of Waycross Junction, Georgia, or any other place
+he had never seen. Consequently his first sight of Venice filled him
+with a tremendous deal of excitement. Emerging from his carpet-bag in
+the cloak-room of the hotel he walked out upon the front steps of the
+building which descended into the Grand Canal, the broad waterway that
+runs its serpentine length through this historic city of the Adriatic.
+
+"'Gee Whittaker!'" he cried, as the great avenue of water met his gaze.
+"There's been a flood! Hi there--inside--the water main has busted, and
+the whole town's afloat. Wake up everybody and save yourselves!"
+
+He turned and rushed madly up the hotel stairs to the floor upon which
+his friends' rooms were located, calling lustily all the way:
+
+"Get up everybody--the reservoy's busted; the dam's loose. To the boats!
+Mollie--Whistlebinkie--Mister and Mrs. Mollie--get up or you'll be
+washed away--the whole place is flooded. You haven't a minute to spare."
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. Me?" asked Mollie, opening her door as she
+recognized the Unwiseman's voice out in the hallway. "What are you
+scaring everybody to death for?"
+
+"Get out your life preservers--quick before it is too late," gasped the
+Unwiseman. "There's a tidal wave galloping up and down the street, and
+we'll be drowned. To the roof! All hands to starboard and man the
+boats."
+
+"What _are_ you talking about?" said Mollie.
+
+"Look out your front window if you don't believe me," panted the
+Unwiseman. "The whole place is chuck full of water--couldn't bail it out
+in a week----"
+
+"Oh," laughed Mollie, as she realized what it was that had so excited
+her friend. "Is that all?"
+
+"All!" ejaculated the Unwiseman, his eyebrows lifting higher with
+astonishment. "Isn't it enough? What do you want, the whole Atlantic
+Ocean sitting on your front stoop?"
+
+"Why--" began Mollie, "this is Venice----"
+
+"Looks like Watertown," interrupted the Unwiseman.
+
+"Thass-swattit-izz," whistled Whistlebinkie. "Venice is a water town.
+It's built on it."
+
+"Built on it?" queried the Unwiseman looking scornfully at Whistlebinkie
+as much as to say you can't fool me quite so easily as that. "Built on
+water?" he repeated.
+
+"Exactly," said Mollie. "Didn't you know that, Mr. Me? Venice is built
+right out on the sea."
+
+"Well of all queer things!" ejaculated the Unwiseman, so surprised that
+he plumped down on the floor and sat there gazing wonderingly up at
+Mollie. "A whole city built on the sea! What's the matter, wasn't there
+land enough?"
+
+"Oh yes, I guess there was plenty of land," said Mollie, "but maybe
+somebody else owned it. Anyhow the Venetians came out here where there
+were a lot of little islands to begin with and drove piles into the
+water and built their city on them."
+
+"Well that beats me," said the Unwiseman, shaking his head in
+bewilderment. "I've heard of fellows building up big copperations on
+water, but never a city. How do they keep the water out of their
+cellars?"
+
+"They don't," said Mollie.
+
+"Maybe they build their cellars on the roof," suggested Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well," said the Unwiseman, rising from the floor and walking to the
+front window and gazing out at the Grand Canal, "I hope this hotel is
+anchored good and fast. I don't mind going to sea on a big boat that's
+built for it, but I draw the line at sailin' all around creation in a
+hotel."
+
+The droll little old gentleman poised himself on one toe and stretched
+out his arms. "There don't seem to be much motion, does there," he
+remarked.
+
+"There isn't any at all," said Mollie. "It's perfectly still."
+
+"I guess it's because it's a clam day," observed the Unwiseman uneasily.
+"I hope it'll stay clam while we're here. I'd hate to be caught out in
+movey weather like they had on that sassy little British Channel. This
+hotel would flop about fearfully and _I_ believe it would sink if
+somebody carelessly left a window open, to say nothing of its falling
+over backward and letting the water in the back door."
+
+"Papa says it's perfectly safe," said Mollie. "The place has been here
+more'n a thousand years and it hasn't sunk yet."
+
+"All right," said the Unwiseman. "If your father says that I'm satisfied
+because he most generally knows what he's talking about, but all the
+same I think we should ought to have brought a couple o' row boats and a
+lot of life preservers along. I don't believe in taking any chances.
+What do the cab-horses do here, swim?"
+
+"No," said Mollie. "There aren't any horses in Venice. They have
+gondolas."
+
+"Gondolas?" repeated the Unwiseman. "What are gondolas, trained ducks?
+Don't think much o' ducks as a substitute for horses."
+
+"Perfly-bsoyd!" whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"I should think they'd drive whales," said the Unwiseman, "or porpoises.
+By Jiminy, that would be fun, wouldn't it? Let's see if we can't hire a
+four whale coach, Mollie, and go driving about the city, or better yet,
+if they've got them well broken, get a school of porpoises. We might put
+on our bathing suits and go horseback riding on 'em. I don't take much
+to the trained duck idea, ducks are so flighty and if they shied at
+anything they might go flying up in the air and dump us backwards out of
+our cab into the water."
+
+"We're going to take a gondola ride this morning," said Mollie. "Just
+you wait and see, Mr. Me."
+
+[Illustration: THEY ALL BOARDED A GONDOLA]
+
+So the Unwiseman waited and an hour later he and Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie boarded a gondola in charge of a very handsome and smiling
+gondolier who said his name was Giuseppe Zocco.
+
+"Soako is a good name for a cab-driver in this town," said the
+Unwiseman, after he had inspected the gondola and ascertained that it
+was seaworthy. "I guess I'll talk to him."
+
+"You-do-know-Eye-talian," laughed Whistlebinkie.
+
+"It's one of the languages I _do_ know," returned the Unwiseman. "I buy
+all my bananas and my peanuts from an Eye-talian at home and for two or
+three years I have been able to talk to him very easily."
+
+He turned to the gondolier.
+
+"Gooda da morn, Soako," he observed very politely. "You havea da
+prett-da-boat."
+
+"Si, Signor," returned the smiling gondolier, who was not wholly
+unfamiliar with English.
+
+"See what?" asked the Unwiseman puzzled, but looking about carefully to
+see what there was to be seen.
+
+"He says we're at sea," laughed Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Oh--well--that's it, eh?" said the Unwiseman. "I thought he only spoke
+Eye-talian." And then he addressed the gondolier again. "Da weather's
+mighta da fine, huh? Not a da rain or da heava da wind, eh? Hopa da babe
+is vera da well da morn."
+
+"Si, Signor," said Giuseppe.
+
+"Da Venn greata da place. Too mucha da watt for me. Lika da dry land
+moocha da bett, Giuseppe. Ever sella da banann?" continued the
+Unwiseman.
+
+"Non, Signor," replied Giuseppe. "No sella da banann."
+
+"Bully da bizz," said the Unwiseman. "Maka da munn hand over da fist.
+You grinda da org?"
+
+"Huh?" grinned Giuseppe.
+
+"He doesn't understand," said Mollie giggling.
+
+"I asked him if he ever ground a hand-organ," said the Unwiseman.
+"Perfectly simple question. I aska da questch, Giuseppe, if you ever
+grinda da org. You know what I mean. Da musica-box, wid da monk for
+climba da house for catcha da nick."
+
+"What's 'catcha da nick'?" whispered Whistlebinkie.
+
+"To catch the nickels, stoopid," said the Unwiseman; "don't interrupt.
+No hava da monk, Giuseppe?" he asked.
+
+"Non, Signor," said the gondolier. "No hava da monk."
+
+"Too bad," observed the Unwiseman. "Hand-org not moocha da good without
+da monk. Da monk maka da laugh and catcha da mun by da cupful. If you
+ever come to America, Giuseppe, no forgetta da monk with a redda da
+cap."
+
+With which admonition the Unwiseman turned his attention to other
+things.
+
+"Is that really Eye-talian?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Of course it is," said the Unwiseman. "It's the easiest language in the
+world to pick up and only requires a little practice to make you speak
+it as if it were your own tongue. I was never conscious that I was
+learning it in my morning talks with old Gorgorini, the banana man at
+home. This would be a great place for automobiles, wouldn't it, Mollie?"
+he laughed in conclusion.
+
+"I don't guesso," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+The gondolier now guided the graceful craft to a flight of marble steps
+up which Mollie and her friends mounted to the Piazza San Marco.
+
+"This is great," said the Unwiseman as he gazed about him and took in
+its splendors. "It's a wonder to me that they don't have a lot of places
+like this on the way over from New York to Liverpool. Crossing the ocean
+would be some fun if you could step off every hour or two and stretch
+your legs on something solid, and buy a few tons of tumblers, and feed
+pigeons. Fact is I think that's the best cure in the world for
+sea-sickness. If you could run up to a little piazza like this three
+times a day where there's a nice restaurant waiting for you and no
+motion to spoil your appetite I wouldn't mind being a sailor for the
+rest of my life."
+
+The travellers passed through the glorious church of San Marco,
+inspected the Doge's Palace and then returned to the gondola, upon which
+they sailed back to their hotel.
+
+"Moocha da thanks, Giuseppe," said the Unwiseman, as he alighted.
+"Here's a Yankee da quart for you. Save it up and when you come to
+America as all the Eye-talians seem to be doing these days, it will help
+start you in business."
+
+And handing the gondolier a quarter the Unwiseman disappeared into the
+hotel. The next day he entered Mollie's room and asked permission to sit
+out on her balcony.
+
+"I think I'll try a little fishing this afternoon," he said. "It isn't a
+bad idea having a hotel right on the water front this way after all. You
+can sit out on your balcony and drop your line out into the water and
+just haul them in by the dozen."
+
+But alas for the old gentleman's expectations, he caught never a fish.
+Whether it was the fault of the bait or not I don't know, but the only
+things he succeeded in catching were an old barrel-hoop that went
+floating along the canal from the Fruit Market up the way, and, sad to
+relate, the straw hat of an American artist on his way home in his
+gondola from a day's painting out near the Lido. The latter incident
+caused a great deal of trouble and it took all the persuasion that
+Mollie's father was capable of to keep the artist from having the
+Unwiseman arrested. It seems that the artist was very much put out
+anyhow because, mix his colors as he would, he could not get that
+peculiarly beautiful blue of the Venetian skies, and the lovely
+iridescent hues of the Venetian air were too delicate for such a brush
+as his, and to have his straw hat unceremoniously snatched off his head
+by an old gentleman two flights up with an ordinary fish hook baited
+with macaroni in addition to his other troubles was too much for his
+temper, not a good one at best.
+
+"I am perfectly willing to say that I am sorry," protested the
+Unwiseman when he was hauled before the angry artist. "I naturally would
+be sorry. When a man goes fishing for shad and lands nothing but a last
+year's straw hat, why wouldn't he be sorry?"
+
+"That's a mighty poor apology!" retorted the artist, putting the straw
+hat on his head.
+
+"Well I'm a poor man," said the Unwiseman. "My expenses have been very
+heavy of late. What with buying an air-gun to shoot Alps with, and
+giving a quarter to the Ganderman to help him buy a monkey, I'm reduced
+from nine-fifty to a trifle under seven dollars."
+
+"You had no business fishing from that balcony!" said the artist
+angrily.
+
+"I haven't any business anywhere, I've retired," said the Unwiseman.
+"And I can tell you one thing certain," he added, "if I was going back
+into business I wouldn't take up fishing for straw hats and barrel-hoops
+in Venice. There's nothing but to trouble in it."
+
+"I shall lodge a complaint against you in the Lion's Mouth," said the
+artist, with a slight twinkle in his eye, his good humor returning in
+the presence of the Unwiseman.
+
+"And I shall fall back on my rights as an American citizen to fish
+whenever I please from my own balcony with my own bait without
+interruption from foreign straw hats," said the Unwiseman with dignity.
+
+"What?" cried the artist. "You an American?"
+
+"Certainly," said the Unwiseman. "You didn't take me for an Eye-talian,
+did you?"
+
+"So am I," returned the artist holding out his hand. "If you'd only told
+me that in the beginning I never should have complained."
+
+"Don't mention it," said the Unwiseman graciously. "I was afraid you
+were an Englishman, and then there'd been a war sure, because I'll never
+give in to an Englishman. If your hat is seriously damaged I'll give you
+my tarpaulin, seeing that you are an American like myself."
+
+"Not at all," said the artist. "The hat isn't hurt at all and I'm very
+glad to have met you. If your hook had only caught my eye on my way up
+the canal I should have turned aside so as not to interfere."
+
+"Well I'm mighty glad it didn't catch your eye," said the Unwiseman. "I
+could afford to buy you a new straw hat, but I'm afraid a new eye would
+have busted me."
+
+And there the trouble ended. The artist and the Unwiseman shook hands
+and parted friends.
+
+"What was that he said about the Lion's Mouth?" asked the Unwiseman
+after the artist had gone.
+
+"He said he'd lodge a complaint there," said Mollie. "That's the way
+they used to do here. Those big statues of lions out in front of the
+Doggies' Palace with their mouths wide open are big boxes where people
+can mail their complaints to the Government."
+
+"Oh, I see," said the Unwiseman. "And when the Doggies get the
+complaints they attend to 'em, eh?"
+
+"Yes," said Mollie.
+
+"And who are the Doggies?" asked the Unwiseman. "They don't have dogs
+instead of pleece over here, do they? I get so mixed up with these
+Johns, and Bobbies, and Doggies I hardly know where I'm at."
+
+"I don't exactly understand why," said Mollie, "but the people in Venice
+are ruled by Doggies."
+
+"They're a queer lot from Buckingham Palace, London, down to this old
+tow-path," said the Unwiseman, "and if I ever get home alive there's no
+more abroad for your Uncle Me."
+
+On the following day, Mollie's parents having seen all of Venice that
+their limited time permitted, prepared to start for Genoa, whence the
+steamer back to New York was to sail. Everything was ready, but the
+Unwiseman was nowhere to be found. The hotel was searched from top to
+bottom and not a sign of him. Giuseppe Zocco denied all knowledge of
+him, and the carpet-bag gave no evidence that he had been in it the
+night before as was his custom. Train-time was approaching and Mollie
+was distracted. Even Whistlebinkie whistled under his breath for fear
+that something had happened to the old gentleman.
+
+"I hope he hasn't fallen overboard!" moaned Mollie, gazing anxiously
+into the watery depths of the canal.
+
+"Here he comes!" cried Whistlebinkie, jubilantly, and sure enough down
+the canal seated on a small raft and paddling his way cautiously along
+with his hands came the Unwiseman, singing the popular Italian ballad
+"Margherita" at the top of his lungs.
+
+"Gander ahoy!" he cried, as he neared the hotel steps. "Sheer off there,
+Captain, and let me into Port."
+
+The gondolier made room for him and the Unwiseman alighted.
+
+"Where _have_ you been?" asked Mollie, throwing her arms about his neck.
+
+"Up the canal a little way," he answered unconcernedly. "I wanted to
+mail a letter to the Doggie in the Lion's Mouth."
+
+"What about?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Watertown, otherwise Venice," said the Unwiseman. "I had some
+suggestions for its improvement and I didn't want to go way without
+making them. There's a copy of my letter if you want to see it," he
+added, handing Mollie a piece of paper upon which he had written as
+follows:
+
+  29 Grand Canal St., Venice, It.
+
+      ANCIENT & HONORABLE BOW-WOWS:
+
+      I have enjoyed my visit to your beautiful but wet old town very
+      much and would respectfully advise you that there are several
+      things you can do to keep it unspiled. These are as follows to wit
+      viz:
+
+      I. Bale it out once in a while and see that the barrel hoops in
+      your Grand Canal are sifted out of it. They're a mighty poor
+      stubstishoot for shad.
+
+      II. Get a few trained whales in commission so that when a feller
+      wants to go driving he won't have to go paddling.
+
+      III. Stock your streets with trout, or flounders, or perch or even
+      sardines in order that us Americans who feel like fishing won't
+      have to be satisfied with a poor quality of straw hat.
+
+      IV. During the fishing season compel artists returning from their
+      work to wear beaver hats or something else that a fish-hook baited
+      with macaroni won't catch into thus making a lot of trouble.
+
+      V. Get together on your language. I speak the very best variety of
+      banana-stand Italian and twenty-three out of twenty-four people to
+      which I have made remarks in it have not been able to grasp my
+      meaning.
+
+      VI. Pigeons are very nice to have but they grow monotonous. Would
+      suggest a half dozen first class American hens as an ornament to
+      your piazza.
+
+      VII. Stop calling yourself Doggies. It makes people laugh.
+
+      With kind regards to the various Mrs. Ds, believe me to be with
+      mucho da respecto,
+
+  Yoursa da trool,
+  Da Unadawisamann.
+
+      P.S. If you ever go sailing abroad in your old town point her
+      nose towards my country. We'll all be glad to see you over there
+      and can supply you with all the water you need.
+
+  Y da T,
+  MISTER ME.
+
+It was with these recommendations to the Doges that the Unwiseman left
+Venice. Whether they were ever received or not I have never heard, but
+if they were I am quite sure they made the "Doggies" yelp with delight.
+
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+GENOA, GIBRALTAR, AND COLUMBUS
+
+
+"Whatta da namea dissa cit?" asked the Unwiseman in his best Italian as
+the party arrived at Genoa, whence they were to set sail for home the
+next day.
+
+"This is Genoa," said Mollie.
+
+"What's it good for?" demanded the old gentleman, gazing around him in a
+highly critical fashion.
+
+"It's where Christopher Columbus was born," said Mollie. "Didn't you
+know that?"
+
+"You don't mean the gentleman who discovered the United States, do you?"
+asked the Unwiseman, his face brightening with interest.
+
+"The very same," said Mollie. "He was born right here in this town."
+
+"Humph!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "Queer place for a fellow like that
+to be born in. You'd think a man who was going to discover America would
+have been born a little nearer the United States than this. Up in
+Canada for instance, or down around Cuba, so's he wouldn't have so far
+to travel."
+
+"Canada and Cuba weren't discovered either at that time," explained
+Mollie, smiling broadly at the Unwiseman's ignorance.
+
+"Really?" said the Unwiseman. "Well that accounts for it. I always
+wondered why the United States wasn't discovered by somebody nearer
+home, like a Canadian or a Cuban, or some fellow down around where the
+Panama hats come from, but of course if there wasn't any Canadians or
+Cubans or Panama hatters around to do it, it's as clear as pie." The old
+gentleman paused a moment, and then he went on: "So this is the place
+that would have been our native land if Columbus hadn't gone to sea, is
+it? I think I'll take home a bottle of it to keep on the mantel-piece
+alongside of my bottle of United States and label 'em' My Native Land,
+Before and After.'"
+
+"That's a very good idea," said Mollie. "Then you'll have a complete
+set."
+
+"I wonder," said the Unwiseman, rubbing his forehead reflectively, "I
+wonder if he's alive yet."
+
+"What, Christopher Columbus?" laughed Mollie.
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "I haven't seen much in the papers about him
+lately, but that don't prove he's dead."
+
+"Why he discovered America in 1492," said Mollie.
+
+"Well--let's see--how long ago was that? More'n forty years, wasn't it?"
+said the Unwiseman.
+
+"I guess it was more than forty years ago," giggled Mollie.
+
+"Well--say fifty then," said the Unwiseman. "I'm pretty nearly that old
+myself. I was born in 1839, or 1843, or some such year, and as I
+remember it we'd been discovered then--but that wouldn't make him so
+awfully old you know. A man can be eighty and still live. Look at old
+Methoosalum--he was nine hundred."
+
+"Oh well," said Mollie, "there isn't any use of talking about it.
+Columbus has been dead a long time----"
+
+"All I can say is that I'm very sorry," interrupted the Unwiseman, with
+a sad little shake of his head. "I should very much like to have gone
+over and called on him just to thank him for dishcovering the United
+States. Just think, Mollie, of what would have happened if he hadn't!
+You and I and old Fizzledinkie here would have had to be Eye-talians, or
+Switzers, and live over here all the time if it hadn't been for him, and
+our own beautiful native land would have been left way across the sea
+all alone by itself and we'd never have known anything about it."
+
+"We certainly ought to be very much obliged to Mr. Columbus for all he
+did for us," said Mollie.
+
+"I-guess-somebuddyelse-wudda-donit," whistled Whistlebinkie. "They
+cuddn'-ta-helptit-with-all-these-socean steamers-going-over-there
+every-day."
+
+"That's true enough," said the Unwiseman, "but we ought to be thankful
+to Columbus just the same. Other people _might_ have done it, but the
+fact remains that he _did_ do it, so I'm much obliged to him. I'd sort
+of like to do something to show my gratitude."
+
+"Better write to his family," grinned Whistlebinkie.
+
+"For a rubber doll with a squeak instead of brain in his head that's a
+first rate idea, Fizzledinkie," said the old gentleman. "I'll do it."
+
+And so he did. The evening mail from the Unwiseman's hotel carried with
+it a souvenir postal card addressed to Christopher Columbus, Jr., upon
+which the sender had written as follows:
+
+  GENOA, Aug. 23, 19--.
+
+      DEAR CHRISTOPHER:
+
+      As an American citizen I want to thank you for your Papa's very
+      great kindness in dishcovering the United States. When I think
+      that if he hadn't I might have been born a Switzer or a French
+      John Darm it gives me a chill. I would have called on you to say
+      this in person if I'd had time, but we are going to sail tomorrow
+      for home and we're pretty busy packing up our carpet-bags and
+      eating our last meals on shore. If you ever feel like dishcovering
+      us on your own account and cross over the briny deep yourself,
+      don't fail to call on me at my home where I have a fine kitching
+      stove and an umbrella which will always be at your disposal.
+
+  Yours trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN, U. S. A.
+
+Later in the evening to the same address was despatched another postal
+reading:
+
+      P.S. If you happen to have an extra photograph of your Papa lying
+      around the house that you don't want with his ortygraph on it I
+      shall be glad to have you send it to me. I will have it framed
+      and hung up in the parlor alongside of General Washington and
+      President Roosevelt who have also been fathers of their country
+      from time to time.
+
+  Yours trooly,
+  THE UNWISEMAN, U. S. A.
+
+"I'm glad I did that," said the Unwiseman when he told Mollie of his two
+messages to Christopher, Jr. "I don't think people as a rule are careful
+enough these days to show their thanks to other people who do things for
+them. It don't do any harm to be polite in matters of that kind and some
+time it may do a lot of good. Good manners ain't never out of place
+anywhere anyhow."
+
+In which praiseworthy sentiment I am happy to say both Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie agreed.
+
+The following day the travellers embarked on the steamer bound for New
+York. This time, weary of his experience as a stowaway on the trip over,
+the Unwiseman contented himself with travelling in his carpet-bag and
+not until after the ship had passed along the Mediterranean and out
+through the straits of Gibraltar, did he appear before his companions.
+His first appearance upon deck was just as the coast of Africa was
+fading away upon the horizon. He peered at this long and earnestly
+through a small blue bottle he held in his hand, and then when the last
+vestige of the scene sank slowly behind the horizon line into the sea,
+he corked the bottle up tightly, put it into his pocket and turned to
+Mollie and Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well," he said, "that's done--and I'm glad of it. I've enjoyed this
+trip very much, but after all I'm glad I'm going home. Be it ever so
+bumble there's no place like home, as the Bee said, and I'll be glad to
+be back again where I can sleep comfortably on my kitchen-stove, with my
+beloved umbrella standing guard alongside of me, and my trusty leak
+looking down upon me from the ceiling while I rest."
+
+"You missed a wonderful sight," said Mollie. "That Rock of Gibraltar was
+perfectly magnificent."
+
+"I didn't miss it," said the Unwiseman. "I peeked at it through the
+port-hole and I quite agree with you. It is the cutest piece of rock
+I've seen in a long time. It seemed almost as big to me as the boulder
+in my back yard must seem to an ant, but I prefer my boulder just the
+same. Gibrallyper's too big to do anything with and it spoils the view,
+whereas my boulder can be rolled around the place without any trouble
+and doesn't spoil anything. I suppose they keep it there to keep Spain
+from sliding down into the sea, so it's useful in a way, but after all
+I'm just as glad it's here instead of out on my lawn somewhere."
+
+"What have you been doing all these days?" asked Mollie.
+
+"O just keeping quiet," said the Unwiseman. "I've been reading up on
+Christopher Columbus and--er--writing a few poems about him. He was a
+wonderful man, Columbus was. He proved the earth was round when
+everybody else thought it was flat--and how do you suppose he did it?"
+
+"By sailin' around it," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"That was after he proved it," observed the Unwiseman, with the superior
+air of one who knows more than somebody else. "He proved it by making an
+egg stand up on its hind legs."
+
+"What?" cried Mollie.
+
+"I didn't know eggs had hind legs," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Ever see a chicken?" asked the Unwiseman.
+
+"Yes," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well, a chicken's only an advanced egg," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"That's true," said Mollie.
+
+"And chickens haven't got anything but hind legs, have they?" demanded
+the old gentleman.
+
+"Thass-a-fact," whistled Whistlebinkie.
+
+"And Columbus proved it by making the egg stand up?" asked Mollie.
+
+"That's what history tells us," said the Unwiseman. "All the Harvard and
+Yale professors of the day said the earth was flat, but Columbus knew
+better, so he just took an egg and proved it. That's one of the things
+I've put in a poem. Want to hear it?"
+
+"Indeed I do," said Mollie. "It must be interesting."
+
+"It is--it's the longest poem I ever wrote," said the Unwiseman, and
+seeking out a retired nook on the steamer's deck the droll old fellow
+seated himself on a coil of rope and read the following poem to Mollie
+and Whistlebinkie.
+
+COLUMBUS AND THE EGG.
+
+  "Columbus was a gentleman
+    Who sailed the briny sea.
+  He was a bright young Genoan
+    In sunny Italy
+  Who once discovered just the plan
+    To find Amerikee."
+
+"Splendid!" cried Mollie, clapping her hands with glee.
+
+"Perfly-bully!" chortled Whistlebinkie, with a joyous squeak.
+
+"I'm glad you like it," said the Unwiseman, with a smile of pleasure.
+"But just you wait. The best part of it's to come yet."
+
+And the old gentleman resumed his poem:
+
+  "He sought the wise-men of his time,
+    And when the same were found,
+  He went and whispered to them, 'I'm
+    Convinced the Earth is round,
+  Just like an orange or a lime--
+    I'll bet you half a pound!'
+
+  "Each wise-man then just shook his head--
+    Each one within his hat.
+  'Go to, Columbus, child,' they said.
+    '_We_ know the Earth is flat.
+  Go home, my son, and go to bed
+    And don't talk stuff like that.'
+
+  "But Christopher could not be hushed
+    By fellows such as they.
+  His spirit never could be crushed
+    In such an easy way,
+  And with his heart and soul unsquushed
+    He plunged into the fray."
+
+"What's a fray?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"A fight, row, dispute, argyment," said the Unwiseman. "Don't
+interrupt. We're coming to the exciting part."
+
+And he went on:
+
+  "'I'll prove the world is round,' said he
+    'For you next Tuesday night,
+  If you will gather formally
+    And listen to the right.'
+  And all the wise-men did agree
+    Because they loved a fight.
+
+  "And so the wise-men gathered there
+    To hear Columbus talk,
+  And some were white as to the hair
+    And some could hardly walk,
+  And one looked like a Polar Bear
+    And one looked like an Auk."
+
+"How-dju-know-that?" asked Whistlebinkie. "Does the history say all
+that?"
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman. "The history doesn't say anything about their
+looks, but there's a picture of the whole party in the book, and it was
+just as I say especially the Polar Bear and the Auk. Anyhow, they were
+all there and the poem goes on to tell about it.
+
+  "Now when about the room they sat
+    Columbus he came in;
+  Took off his rubbers and his hat,
+    Likewise his tarpaulin.
+  He cleared his throat and stroked the cat
+    And thuswise did begin."
+
+"There wasn't any cat in the picture," explained the Unwiseman, "but I
+introduced him to get a rhyme for hat and sat. Sometimes you have to do
+things like that in poetry and according to the rules if you have a
+license you can do it."
+
+"Have you got a license?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Not to write poetry, but I've got a dog-license," said the Unwiseman,
+"and I guess if a man pays three dollars to keep a dog and doesn't keep
+the dog he's got a right to use the license for something else. I'll
+risk it anyhow. So just keep still and listen.
+
+  "'You see this egg?' Columbus led.
+    'Now watch me, sirs, I begs.
+  I'll make it stand upon its head
+    Or else upon its legs.'
+  And instantly 'twas as he said
+    As sure as eggs is eggs.
+
+  "For whether 'twas an Egg from school
+    Or in a circus taught,
+  Or whether it was just a cool
+    Egg of unusual sort,
+  That egg stood up just like a spool
+    According to report."
+
+"I bet he smashed in the end of it," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Maybe it was a scrambled egg, maybe he stuck a pin in an end of it.
+Maybe he didn't. Anyhow, he made it stand up," said the Unwiseman, "and
+I wish you'd stop squeakyrupting when I'm reading."
+
+"Go ahead," said Whistlebinkie meekly. "It's a perfly spulendid piece o'
+potery and I can't help showing my yadmiration for it."
+
+"Well keep your yadmiration for the yend of it," retorted the Unwiseman.
+"We'll be in New York before I get it finished at this rate."
+
+Whistlebinkie promised not to squeak again and the Unwiseman resumed.
+
+  "'O wonderful!' the wise-men cried.
+    'O marvellous,' said they.
+  And then Columbus up and tried
+    The egg the other way,
+  And still it stood up full of pride
+    Or so the histories say.
+
+  "Again the wise-men cried aloud,
+    'O wizard, marvellous!
+  Of all the scientific crowd
+    This is the man for us--
+  O Christopher we're mighty proud
+    Of you, you little cuss!'"
+
+"That wasn't very polite," began Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Now Squeaky," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"'Scuse!" gasped Whistlebinkie.
+
+And the Unwiseman went on:
+
+  "'For men who make an omlette
+    We really do not care;
+  To poach an egg already yet
+    Is easy everywhere;
+  But he who'll teach it etiquette--
+    He is a genius rare.
+
+  "'So if _you_ say the Earth is round
+    We think it must be so.
+  Your reasoning's so very sound,
+    Columbus don't you know.
+  Come wizard, take your half-a-pound
+    Before you homeward go.'"
+
+Whistlebinkie began to fidget again and his breath came in little short
+squeaks.
+
+"But I don't see," he began. "It didn't prove----"
+
+"Wait!" said the Unwiseman. "Don't you try to get in ahead of the
+finish. Here's the last verse, and it covers your ground.
+
+  "And thus it was, O children dear,
+    Who gather at my knee,
+  Columbus showed the Earth the sphere
+    It since has proved to be;
+  Though how the Egg trick made it clear,
+    I'm blest if I can see."
+
+"Well I'm glad you put that last voyse in," said Whistlebinkie, "because
+I don't see either."
+
+"Oh--I guess they thought a man who could train an egg to stand up was a
+pretty smart man," said Mollie, "and they didn't want to dispute with
+him."
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised if that was it," said the Unwiseman. "I
+noticed too in the picture that Columbus was about twice as big as any
+of the wise-men, and maybe that had something to do with it too. Anyhow,
+he was pretty smart."
+
+"Is that all you wrote?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"No," said the Unwiseman. "I did another little one called 'I Wonder.'
+There are a lot of things the histories don't tell you anything about,
+so I've put 'em all in a rhyme as a sort of hint to people who are going
+to write about him in the future. It goes like this:
+
+  "When Christopher Columbus came ashore,
+  The day he landed in Americor
+  I wonder what he said when first he tried
+  Down in the subway trains to take a ride?
+
+  "When Christopher Columbus went up town
+  And looked the country over, up and down,
+  I wonder what he thought when first his eye
+  Was caught by the sky-scrapers in the sky?
+
+  "When Christopher put up at his hotel
+  And first pushed in the button of his bell
+  And upward came the boy who orders takes,
+  I wonder if he ordered buckwheat cakes?
+
+  "When Christopher went down to Washington
+  To pay his call the President upon
+  I wonder if the President felt queer
+  To know that his discoverer was here?
+
+  "I wonder when his slow-poke caravels
+  Were tossed about by heavy winds and swells,
+  If he was not put out and mad to spy
+  The ocean steamers prancing swiftly by?"
+
+"I don't know about other people," said the Unwiseman, "but little
+things like that always interest me about as much as anything else, but
+there's nary a word about it in the papers, and as far as my memory is
+concerned when he first came I was too young to know much about what was
+going on. I do remember a big parade in his honor, but I think that was
+some years after the discovery."
+
+"I guess it was," said Mollie, with a laugh. "There wasn't anything but
+Indians there when he arrived."
+
+"Really? How unfortunate--how very unfortunate," said the Unwiseman. "To
+think that on the few occasions that he came here he should meet only
+Indians. Mercy! What a queer idea of the citizens of the United States
+he must have got. Really, Mollie, I don't wonder that instead of
+settling down in New York, or Boston, or Chicago, he went back home
+again to live. Nothing but Indians! Well, well, well!"
+
+And the Unwiseman wandered moodily back to his carpet-bag.
+
+"With so many nice people living in America," he sighed, "it does seem
+too bad that he should meet only Indians who, while they may be very
+good Indians indeed, are not noted for the quality of their manners."
+
+And so the little party passed over the sea, and I did not meet with
+them again until I reached the pier at New York and discovered the
+Unwiseman struggling with the Custom House Inspectors.
+
+
+
+
+XIV.
+
+AT THE CUSTOM HOUSE
+
+
+"Hi there--where are you going with that carpet-bag?" cried a gruff
+voice, as the Unwiseman scurried along the pier, eager to get back home
+as speedily as possible after the arrival of the steamer at New York.
+
+"Where do you suppose I'm going?" retorted the Unwiseman, pausing in his
+quick-step march back to the waiting arms of his kitchen-stove. "Doesn't
+look as if I was walkin' off to sea again, does it?"
+
+"Come back here with that bag," said the man of the gruff voice, a tall
+man with a shiny black moustache and a blue cap with gold trimmings on
+his head.
+
+"What, me?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"Yes, you," said the man roughly. "What business have you skipping out
+like that with a carpet-bag as big as a house under your arm?"
+
+"It's my bag--who's got a better right?" retorted the Unwiseman. "I
+bought and paid for it with my own money, so why shouldn't I walk off
+with it?"
+
+"Has it been inspected?" demanded the official.
+
+"It don't need to be--there ain't any germans in it," said the
+Unwiseman.
+
+"Germans?" laughed the official.
+
+"Yes--Mike robes--you know----" continued the Unwiseman.
+
+"O, you mean germs," said the official. "Well, I didn't say disinfected.
+I said inspected. You can't lug a bag like that in through here without
+having it examined, you know. What you got in it?"
+
+[Illustration: THE UNWISEMAN LOOKED THE OFFICIAL COLDLY IN THE EYE]
+
+The Unwiseman placed his bag on the floor of the pier and sat on it and
+looked the other coldly in the eye.
+
+"Who are you anyhow?" he asked. "What right have you to ask me such
+impident questions as, What have I got in this bag?"
+
+"Well in private life my name's Maginnis," said the official, "but down
+here on this dock I'm Uncle Sam, otherwise the United States of America,
+that's who."
+
+The Unwiseman threw his head back and roared with laughter.
+
+"I do not mean to be rude, my dear Mr. Maginnis," he said, "but I really
+must say Tutt, Tush, Pshaw and Pooh. I may even go so far as to say
+Pooh-pooh--which is twice as scornful as just plain pooh. _You_ Uncle
+Sam? You must think I'm as green as apples if you think I'll believe
+that."
+
+"It is true nevertheless," said the official sternly, "and unless you
+hand over that bag at once----"
+
+"Well I know better," said the Unwiseman angrily. "Uncle Sam has a red
+goatee and you've got nothing but a shiny black moustache that looks
+like a pair of comic eyebrows that have slipped and slid down over your
+nose. Uncle Sam wears a blue swallow-tail coat with brass buttons on it,
+and a pair of red and white striped trousers like a peppermint stick,
+and you've got nothin' but an old pea-jacket and blue flannel pants on,
+and as for the hat, Uncle Sam wears a yellow beaver with fur on it like
+a coon-cat, while that thing of yours looks like a last summer's
+yachtin' cap spruced up with brass. You're a very smart man, Mr.
+Maginnis, but you can't fool an old traveller like me. I've been to
+Europe, I have, and I guess I know the difference between a fire-engine
+and a clothes horse. Uncle Sam indeed!"
+
+"I must inspect the contents of that bag," said the official firmly. "If
+you resist it will be confiscated."
+
+"I don't know what confiscated means," returned the Unwiseman valiantly,
+"but any man who goes through this bag of mine goes through me first.
+I'm sittin' on the lock, Mr. Maginnis, and I don't intend to move--no,
+not if you try to blast me away. A man's carpet-bag is his castle and
+don't you forget it."
+
+"What's the matter here?" demanded a policeman, who had overheard the
+last part of this little quarrel.
+
+"Nothing much," said the Unwiseman. "This gentleman here in the
+messenger boy's clothes says he's the President o' the United States,
+Congress, the Supreme Court, and the Army and Navy, all rolled into one,
+thinking that by so doing he can get hold of my carpet-bag. That's all.
+Anybody can see by lookin' at him that he ain't even the Department of
+Agriculture. The United States Government! Really it makes me laugh."
+
+Here the Unwiseman grinned broadly, and the Policeman and the official
+joined in.
+
+"He's a new kind of a smuggler, officer," said Mr. Maginnis, "or at
+least he acts like one. I caught him trotting off with that bag under
+his arm, and he refuses to let me inspect it."
+
+"I ain't a smuggler!" retorted the Unwiseman indignantly.
+
+"You'll have to let him look through the bag, Mister," said the
+Policeman. "He's a Custom House Inspector and nobody's allowed to take
+in baggage of any sort that hasn't been inspected."
+
+"Is that the law?" asked the Unwiseman.
+
+"Yep," said the Policeman.
+
+"What's the idea of it?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"Well the United States Government makes people pay a tax on things that
+are made on the other side," explained the Inspector. "That's the way
+they make the money to pay the President's salary and the other running
+expenses of the Government."
+
+"Oh--that's it, eh?" said the Unwiseman. "Well you'd ought to have told
+me that in the beginning. I didn't know the Government needed money to
+pay the President. I thought all it had to do was to print all it
+needed. Of course if the President's got to go without his money unless
+I help pay, I'll be only too glad to do all I can to make up the amount
+you're short. He earns every penny of it, and it isn't fair to make him
+wait for it. About how much do you need to even it up? I've only got
+four dollars left and I'm afraid I'll have to use a little of it myself,
+but what's left over you're welcome to, only I'd like the President to
+know I chipped in. How much does he get anyhow?"
+
+"Seventy-five thousand dollars," said the Inspector.
+
+"And there are 80,000,000 people in the country, ain't there?" asked the
+Unwiseman.
+
+"About that?" said the Inspector.
+
+"So that really my share comes to--say four and a quarter thousandths of
+a cent--that it?" demanded the Unwiseman.
+
+"Something like that," laughed the Inspector.
+
+"Well then," said the Unwiseman, taking a copper coin from his pocket,
+"here's a cent. Can you change it?"
+
+"We don't do business that way," said the Inspector impatiently. "We
+examine your baggage and tax that--that's all. If you refuse to let us,
+we confiscate the bag, and fine you anywhere from $100 to $5000. Now
+what are you going to do?"
+
+"What he says is true," said the Policeman, "and I'd advise you to save
+trouble by opening up the bag."
+
+"O well of course if _you_ say so I'll do it, but I think it's mighty
+funny just the same," said the Unwiseman, rising from the carpet-bag and
+handing it over to the Inspector. "In the first place it's not polite
+for an entire stranger to go snooping through a gentleman's carpet-bag.
+In the second place if the Secretary of the Treasury hasn't got enough
+money on hand when pay-day comes around he ought to state the fact in
+the newspapers so we citizens can hustle around and raise it for him
+instead of being held up for it like a highwayman, and in the third
+place it's very extravagant to employ a man like Mr. Maginnis here for
+three dollars a week or whatever he gets, just to collect four and a
+quarter thousandths of a cent. I don't wonder there ain't any money in
+the treasury if that's the way the Government does business."
+
+So the inspection of the Unwiseman's carpet bag began. The first thing
+the Inspector found upon opening that wonderful receptacle was "French
+in Five Lessons."
+
+"What's that?" he asked.
+
+"That's a book," replied the Unwiseman. "It teaches you how to talk
+French in five easy lessons."
+
+"What did you pay for it?" asked the Inspector.
+
+"I didn't pay anything for it," said the Unwiseman. "I found it."
+
+"What do you think it's worth?" queried the Inspector.
+
+"Nothing," said the Unwiseman. "That is, all the French I got out of it
+came to about that. It may have been first class looking French, but
+when I came to use it on French people they didn't seem to recognize it,
+and it had a habit of fading away and getting lost altogether, so as far
+as I'm concerned it ain't worth paying duty on. If you're going to tax
+me for that you can confisticate it and throw it at the first cat you
+want to scare off your back-yard fence."
+
+"What's this?" asked the Inspector, taking a small tin box out of the
+bag.
+
+"Ginger-snaps, two bananas and an eclair," said the Unwiseman. "I shan't
+pay any duty on them because I took 'em away with me when I left home."
+
+"I don't know whether I can let them in duty-free or not," said the
+Inspector, with a wink at the Policeman.
+
+"Well I'll settle that in a minute," said the Unwiseman, and reaching
+out for the tin-box in less than two minutes he had eaten its contents.
+"You can't tax what ain't, can you?" he asked.
+
+"Of course not," said the Inspector.
+
+"Well then those ginger-snaps ain't, and the bananas ain't and the
+eclair ain't, so there you are," said the Unwiseman triumphantly. "Go on
+with your search, Uncle Sammy. You haven't got much towards the
+President's salary yet, have you!"
+
+The Inspector scorned to reply, and after rummaging about in the bag
+for a few moments, he produced a small box of macaroni.
+
+"I guess we'll tax you on this," he said. "What is it?"
+
+"Bait," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"I call it macaroni," said the Inspector.
+
+"You can call it what you please," said the Unwiseman. "I call it
+bait--and it's no good. I can dig better bait than all the macaroni in
+the world in my back yard. I fish for fish and not for Eye-talians, so I
+don't need that kind. If I can't keep it without paying taxes for it,
+confisticate it and eat it yourself. I only brought it home as a
+souvenir of Genoa anyhow."
+
+"I don't want it," said the Inspector.
+
+"Then give it to the policeman," said the Unwiseman. "I tell you right
+now I wouldn't pay five cents to keep a piece of macaroni nine miles
+long. Be careful the way you handle that sailor suit of mine. I had it
+pressed in London and I want to keep the creases in the trousers just
+right the way the King wears his."
+
+"Where did you buy them?" asked the Inspector, holding the duck trousers
+up in the air.
+
+"Right here in this town before I stole on board the _Digestic_," said
+the Unwiseman.
+
+"American made, are they?" asked the Inspector.
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "You can tell that by lookin' at 'em. They're
+regular canvas-back ducks with the maker's name stamped on the buttons."
+
+Closer inspection of the garment proved the truth of the Unwiseman's
+assertion and the Inspector proceeded.
+
+"Didn't you make any purchases abroad?" he asked. "Clothes or jewels or
+something?"
+
+"I didn't buy any clothes at all," said the Unwiseman. "I did ask the
+price of a Duke's suit and a Knight gown, but I didn't buy either of
+them. You don't have to pay duty on a request for information, do you?"
+
+"You are sure you didn't buy any?" repeated the Inspector.
+
+"Quite sure," said the Unwiseman. "A slight misunderstanding with the
+King combined with a difference of opinion with his tailor made it
+unnecessary for me to lay in a stock of royal raiment. And the same
+thing prevented my buying any jewels. If I'd decided to go into the
+Duke business I probably should have bought a few diamond rings and a
+half a dozen tararas to wear when I took breakfast with the roil family,
+but I gave that all up when I made up my mind to remain a farmer.
+Tararas and diamond rings kind of get in your way when you're pulling
+weeds and planting beets, so why should I buy them?"
+
+"How about other things?" asked the Inspector. "You say you've been
+abroad all summer and haven't bought anything?"
+
+"I didn't say anything of the sort," said the Unwiseman. "I bought a lot
+of things. In London I bought a ride in a hansom cab, in Paris I bought
+a ride in a one horse fakir, and in Venice I bought a ride in a
+Gandyola. I bought a large number of tarts and plates of ice cream in
+various places. I bought a couple of souvenir postal cards to send to
+Columbus's little boy. In Switzerland I didn't buy anything because the
+things I wanted weren't for sale such as pet shammys and Alps and
+Glaziers and things like that. There's only two things that I can
+remember that maybe ought to be taxed. One of 'em's an air gun to shoot
+alps with and the others a big alpen-stock engraved with a red hot iron
+showing what mountains I didn't climb. The Alpen-stock I used as a fish
+pole in Venice and lost it because my hook got stuck in an artist's
+straw hat, but the air gun I brought home with me. You can tax it if you
+want to, but I warn you if you do I'll give it to you and then you'll
+have to pay the tax yourself."
+
+Having delivered himself of this long harangue, the Unwiseman, quite out
+of breath, sat down on Mollie's trunk and waited for new developments.
+The Inspector apparently did not hear him, or if he did paid no
+attention. The chances are that the Unwiseman's words never reached his
+ears, for to tell the truth his head was hidden way down deep in the
+carpet-bag. It was all of three minutes before he spoke, and then with
+his face all red with the work he drew his head from the bag and,
+gasping for air observed, wonderingly:
+
+"I can't find anything else but a lot of old bottles in there. What
+business are you in anyhow?" he asked. "Bottles and rags?"
+
+"I am a collector," said the Unwiseman, with a great deal of dignity.
+
+"Well--after all I guess we'll have to let you in free," said the
+Inspector, closing the bag with a snap and scribbling a little mark on
+it with a piece of chalk to show that it had been examined. "The
+Government hasn't put any tax on old bottles and junk generally so
+you're all right. If all importers were like you the United States would
+have to go out of business."
+
+"Junk indeed!" cried the Unwiseman, jumping up wrathfully. "If you call
+my bottles junk I'd like to know what you'd say to the British Museum.
+That's a scrap heap, alongside of this collection of mine, and I don't
+want you to forget it!"
+
+And gathering his belongings together the Unwiseman in high dudgeon
+walked off the pier while the Inspector and the Policeman watched him go
+with smiles on their faces so broad that if they'd been half an inch
+broader they would have met behind their necks and cut their heads off.
+
+"I never was so insulted in my life," said the Unwiseman, as he told
+Mollie about it in the carriage going up to the train that was to take
+them back home. "He called that magnificent collection of mine junk."
+
+"What was there in it?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Wait until we get home and I'll show you," said the Unwiseman. "It's
+the finest collection of--well just wait and see. I'm going to start a
+Museum up in my house that will make that British Museum look like
+cinder in a giant's eye. How did you get through the Custom House?"
+
+"Very nicely," said Mollie. "The man wanted me to pay duty on
+Whistlebinkie at first, because he thought he was made in Germany, but
+when he heard him squeak he let him in free."
+
+"I should think so," said the Unwiseman. "There's no German in his
+squeak. He couldn't get a medium sized German word through his hat. If
+he could I think he'd drive me crazy. Just open the window will you
+while I send this wireless message to the President."
+
+"To the President?" cried Mollie.
+
+"Yes--I want him to know I'm home in the first place, and in the second
+place I want to tell him that the next time he wants to collect his
+salary from me, I'll take it as a personal favor if he'll come himself
+and not send Uncle Sam Maginnis after it. I can stand a good deal for my
+country's sake but when a Custom House inspector prys into my private
+affairs and then calls them junk just because the President needs a four
+and a quarter thousandth of a cent, it makes me very, very angry. It's
+been as much as I could do to keep from saying 'Thunder' ever since I
+landed, and that ain't the way an American citizen ought to feel when he
+comes back to his own beautiful land again after three months' absence.
+It's like celebrating a wanderer's return by hitting him in the face
+with a boot-jack, and I don't like it."
+
+The window was opened and with much deliberation the Unwiseman
+despatched his message to the President, announcing his return and
+protesting against the tyrannous behavior of Mr. Maginnis, the Custom
+House Inspector, after which the little party continued on their way
+until they reached their native town. Here they separated, Mollie and
+Whistlebinkie going to their home and the Unwiseman to the queer little
+house that he had left in charge of the burglar at the beginning of the
+summer.
+
+"If I ever go abroad again," said the Unwiseman at parting, "which I
+never ain't going to do, I'll bring a big Bengal tiger back in my bag
+that ain't been fed for seven weeks, and then we'll have some fun when
+Maginnis opens the bag!"
+
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+HOME, SWEET HOME
+
+
+"Hurry up and finish your breakfast, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie the
+next morning after their return from abroad. "I want to run around to
+the Unwiseman's House and see if everything is all right. I'm just crazy
+to know how the burglar left the house."
+
+"I-mall-ready," whistled Whistlebinkie. "I-yain't-very-ungry."
+
+"Lost your appetite?" asked Mollie eyeing him anxiously, for she was a
+motherly little girl and took excellent care of all her playthings.
+
+"Yep," said Whistlebinkie. "I always do lose my appetite after eating
+three plates of oat-meal, four chops, five rolls, six buckwheat cakes
+and a couple of bananas."
+
+"Mercy! How do you hold it all, Whistlebinkie?" said Mollie.
+
+"Oh--I'm made o'rubber and my stummick is very 'lastic," explained
+Whistlebinkie.
+
+So hand in hand the little couple made off down the road to the
+pleasant spot where the Unwiseman's house stood, and there in the front
+yard was the old gentleman himself talking to his beloved boulder, and
+patting it gently as he did so.
+
+[Illustration: "I'M NEVER GOING TO LEAVE YOU AGAIN, BOLDY," HE WAS
+SAYING]
+
+"I'm never going to leave you again, Boldy," he was saying to the rock
+as Mollie and Whistlebinkie came up. "It is true that the Rock of
+Gibraltar is bigger and broader and more terrible to look at than you
+are but when it comes right down to business it isn't any harder or to
+my eyes any prettier. You are still my favorite rock, Boldy dear, so you
+needn't be jealous." And the old gentleman bent over and kissed the
+boulder softly.
+
+"Good morning," said Mollie, leaning over the fence. "Whistlebinkie and
+I have come down to see if everything is all right. I hope the
+kitchen-stove is well?"
+
+"Well the house is here, and all the bric-a-brac, and the leak has grown
+a bit upon the ceiling, and the kitchen-stove is all right thank you,
+but I'm afraid that old burgular has run off with my umbrella," said the
+Unwiseman. "I can't find a trace of it anywhere."
+
+"You don't really think he has stolen it do you?" asked Mollie.
+
+"I don't know what to think," said the Unwiseman, shaking his head
+gravely. "He had first class references, that burgular had, and claimed
+to have done all the burguling for the very nicest people in the country
+for the last two years, but these are the facts. He's gone and the
+umbrella's gone too. I suppose in the burgular's trade like in
+everything else you some times run across one who isn't as honest as he
+ought to be. Occasionally you'll find a burgular who'll take things that
+don't belong to him and it may be that this fellow that took my house
+was one of that kind--but you never can tell. It isn't fair to judge a
+man by disappearances, and it is just possible that the umbrella got
+away from him in a heavy storm. It was a skittish sort of a creature
+anyhow and sometimes I've had all I could do in windy weather to keep it
+from running away myself. What do you think of my sign?"
+
+"I don't see any sign," said Mollie, looking all around in search of the
+object. "Where is it?"
+
+"O I forgot," laughed the old gentleman gaily. "It's around on the other
+side of the house--come on around and see it."
+
+The callers walked quickly around to the rear of the Unwiseman's house,
+and there, hanging over the kitchen door, was a long piece of board upon
+which the Unwiseman had painted in very crooked black letters the
+following words:
+
+  THE BRITISH MUSEUM JUNIOR
+  Admishun ten cents.     Exit fifteen cents.
+  Burgulars one umbrella.
+  THE FINEST COLECTION OF ALPS AND SOFORTHS ON EARTH.
+  CHILDREN AND RUBER DOLLS FREE ON SATIDYS.
+
+"Dear me--how interesting," said Mollie, as she read this remarkable
+legend, "but--what does it mean?"
+
+"It means that I've started a British Museum over here," said the
+Unwiseman, "only mine is going to be useful, instead of merely
+ornamental like that one over in London. For twenty-five cents a man can
+get a whole European trip in my Museum without getting on board of a
+steamer. I only charge ten cents to come in so as to get people to
+come, and I charge fifteen cents to get out so as to make 'em stay until
+they have seen all there is to be seen. People get awfully tired
+travelling abroad, I find, and if you make it too easy for them to run
+back home they'll go without finishing their trip. I charge burgulars
+one umbrella to get in so that if my burgular comes back he'll have to
+make good my loss, or stay out."
+
+"Why do you let children and rubber dolls in free?" asked Mollie,
+reading the sign over a second time.
+
+"I wrote that rule to cover you and old Squizzledinkie here," said the
+old gentleman, with a kindly smile at his little guests. "Although it
+really wasn't necessary because I don't charge any admission to people
+who come in the front door and you could always come in that way. That's
+the entrance to my home. The back-door I charge for because it's the
+entrance to my museum, don't you see?"
+
+"Clear as a blue china alley," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Come in and see the exhibit," said the Unwiseman proudly.
+
+And then as Mollie and Whistlebinkie entered the house their eyes fell
+upon what was indeed the most marvellous collection of interesting
+objects they had ever seen. All about the parlor were ranged row upon
+row of bottles, large and small, each bearing a label describing its
+contents, with here and there mysterious boxes, and broken tumblers and
+all sorts of other odd things that the Unwiseman had brought home in his
+carpet-bag.
+
+"Bottle number one," said he, pointing to the object with a cane, "is
+filled with Atlantic Ocean--real genuine briny deep--bottled it myself
+and so I know there's nothing bogus about it. Number two which looks
+empty, but really ain't, is full of air from the coast of Ireland,
+caught three miles out from Queenstown by yours trooly, Mr. Me. Number
+three, full of dust and small pebbles, is genuine British soil gathered
+in London the day they put me out of the Museum. 'Tain't much to look
+at, is it?" he added.
+
+"Nothin' extra," said Whistlebinkie, inspecting it with a critical air
+after the manner of one who was an expert in soils.
+
+"Not compared to American soil anyhow," said the Unwiseman. "This hard
+cake in the tin box is a 'Muffin by Special Appointment to the King,'"
+he went on with a broad grin. "I went in and bought one after we had our
+rumpus in the bake-shop, just for the purpose of bringing it over here
+and showing the American people how vain and empty roilty has become. It
+is not a noble looking object to my eyes."
+
+"Mine neither," whistled Whistlebinkie. "It looks rather stale."
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "And that's the only roil thing about it.
+Passing along rapidly we come soon to a bottleful of the British
+Channel," he resumed. "In order to get the full effect of that very
+conceited body of water you want to shake it violently. That gives you
+some idea of how the water works. It's tame enough now that I've got it
+bottled but in its native lair it is fierce. You will see the
+instructions on the bottle."
+
+Sure enough the bottle was labeled as the Unwiseman said with full
+instructions as to how it must be used.
+
+"Shake for fifteen minutes until it is all roiled up and swells around
+inside the bottle like a tidal wave," the instructions read. "You will
+then get a small idea of how this disagreeable body of water behaves
+itself in the presence of trusting strangers."
+
+"Here is my bottle of French soil," said the Unwiseman, passing on to
+the next object. "It doesn't look very different from English soil but
+it's French all right, as you would see for yourself if it tried to
+talk. I scooped it up myself in Paris. There's the book--French in Five
+Lessons--too. That I call 'The French Language,' which shows people who
+visit this museum what a funny tongue it is. That pill box full of sand
+is a part of the Swiss frontier and the small piece of gravel next to it
+is a piece of an Alp chipped off Mount Blanc by myself, so that I know
+it is genuine. It will give the man who has never visited
+Swaz--well--that country, a small idea of what an Alp looks like and
+will correct the notion in some people's minds that an Alp is a wild
+animal with a long hairy tail and the manners of a lion. The next two
+bottles contain all that is left of a snow-ball I gathered in at
+Chamouny, and a chip of the Mer de Glace glazier. They've both melted
+since I bottled them, but I'll have them frozen up again all right when
+winter comes, so there's no harm done."
+
+"What's this piece of broken china on the table?" asked Mollie.
+
+"That is a fragment of a Parisian butter saucer," said the Unwiseman.
+"One of the waiters fell down stairs with somebody's breakfast at our
+hotel in Paris one morning while we were there," he explained, "and I
+rescued that from the debris. It is a perfect specimen of a broken
+French butter dish."
+
+"I don't think it's very interesting," said Mollie.
+
+"Well to tell you the truth, I don't either, but you've got to remember,
+my dear, that this is a British Museum and the one over in London is
+chuck full of broken china, old butter plates and coffee cups from all
+over everywhere, and I don't want people who care for that sort of thing
+to be disappointed with my museum when they come here. Take that plaster
+statue of Cupid that I bought in Venice--I only got that to please
+people who care for statuary."
+
+"Where is it?" asked Mollie, searching the room with her eye for the
+Cupid.
+
+"I've spread it out through the Museum so as to make it look more like a
+collection," said the Unwiseman. "I got a tack-hammer as soon as I got
+home last night and fixed it up. There's an arm over on the
+mantel-piece. His chest and left leg are there on top of the piano,
+while his other arm with his left ear and right leg are in the kitchen.
+I haven't found places for his stummick and what's left of his head yet,
+but I will before the crowd begins to arrive."
+
+"Why Mr. Me!" protested Mollie, as she gazed mournfully upon the scraps
+of the broken Cupid. "You didn't really smash up that pretty little
+statue?"
+
+"I'm afraid I did, Mollie," said the Unwiseman sadly. "I hated to do it,
+but this is a Museum my dear, and when you go into the museum business
+you've to do it according to the rules. One of the rules seems to be 'No
+admission to Unbusted Statuary,' and I've acted accordingly. I don't
+want to deceive anybody and if I gave even to my kitchen-stove the idea
+that these first class museums over in Europe have anything but
+fractures in them----"
+
+"Fragments, isn't it?" suggested Mollie.
+
+"It's all the same," said the Unwiseman, "Fractures or fragments, there
+isn't a complete statue anywhere in any museum that I ever saw, and in
+educating my kitchen-stove in Art I'm going to follow the lead of the
+experts."
+
+"Well I don't see the use of it," sighed Mollie, for she had admired the
+pretty little plaster Cupid very much indeed.
+
+"No more do I, Mollie dear," said the Unwiseman, "but rules are rules
+and we've got to obey them. This is the Grand Canal at Venice," he added
+holding up a bottle full of dark green water in order to change the
+subject. "And here is what I call a Hoople-fish from the Adriatic."
+
+"What on earth is a Hoople-fish?" cried Mollie with a roar of laughter
+as she gazed upon the object to which the Unwiseman referred, an old
+water soaked strip of shingley wood.
+
+"It is the barrel hoop I caught that day I went fishing from the hotel
+balcony," explained the Unwiseman. "I wish I'd kept the artist's straw
+hat I landed at the same time for a Hat-fish to complete my collection
+of Strange Shad From Venice, but of course that was impossible. The
+artist seemed to want it himself and as he had first claim to it I
+didn't press the matter. The barrel-hoop will serve however to warn
+Americans who want to go salmon fishing on the Grand Canal just what
+kind of queer things they'll catch if they have any luck at all."
+
+"What's this?" asked Whistlebinkie, peering into a little tin pepper pot
+that appeared to contain nothing but sand.
+
+"You must handle that very carefully," said the Unwiseman, taking it in
+one hand, and shaking some of the sand out of it into the palm of the
+other. "That is the birth-place of Christopher Columbus, otherwise the
+soil of Genoa. I brought home about a pail-ful of it, and I'm going to
+have it put up in forty-seven little bottles to send around to people
+that would appreciate having it. One of 'em is to go to the President to
+be kept on the White House mantel-piece in memory of Columbus, and the
+rest of them I shall distribute to the biggest Museums in each one of
+the United States. I don't think any State in the Union should be
+without a bottle of Columbus birth-place, in view of all that he did for
+this country by discovering it. There wouldn't have been any States at
+all of it hadn't been for him, and it strikes me that is a very simple
+and touching way of showing our gratitude."
+
+"Perfectly fine!" cried Mollie enthusiastically. "I don't believe
+there's another collection like this anywhere in all the world, do you?"
+she added, sweeping the room with an eye full of wondering admiration
+for the genius that had gathered all these marvellous things together.
+
+"No--I really don't," said the Unwiseman. "And just think what a fine
+thing it will be for people who can't afford to travel," he went on.
+"For twenty-five cents they can come here and see everything we
+saw--except a few bogus kings and things like that that ain't really
+worth seeing--from the French language down to the Venetian Hoople-fish,
+from an Alp and a Glazier to a Specially Appointed Muffin to the King
+and Columbus's birth-place. I really think I shall have to advertise it
+in the newspapers. A Trip Abroad Without Leaving Home, All for a
+Quarter, at the Unwiseman's Museum. Alps a Specialty."
+
+"Here's a couple of empty bottles," said Whistlebinkie, who had been
+snooping curiously about the room.
+
+"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "I've more than that. I'm sorry to say that
+some of my exhibits have faded away. The first one was filled with
+London fog, and as you remember I lost that when the cork flew out the
+day they dejected me from the British Museum. That other bottle when I
+put the cork in it contained a view of Gibraltar and the African Coast
+through the port-hole of the steamer, but it's all faded out, just as
+the bird's-eye view of the horizon out in the middle of the ocean that I
+had in a little pill bottle did. There are certain things you can't keep
+even in bottles--but I shall show the Gibraltar bottle just the same. A
+bottle of that size that once contained that big piece of rock and the
+African Coast to boot, is a wonderful thing in itself."
+
+In which belief Mollie and Whistlebinkie unanimously agreed.
+
+"Was the kitchen-stove glad to see you back?" asked Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well--it didn't say very much," said the Unwiseman, with an
+affectionate glance out into the kitchen, "but when I filled it up with
+coal, and started the fire going, it was more than cordial. Indeed
+before the evening was over it got so very warm that I had to open the
+parlor windows to cool it off."
+
+"It's pretty nice to be home again, isn't it," said Mollie.
+
+"Nice?" echoed the old gentleman. "I can just tell you, Miss Mollie
+Whistlebinkie, that the finest thing I've seen since I left home, finer
+than all the oceans in the world, more beautiful than all the Englands
+in creation, sweeter than all the Frances on the map, lovelier than any
+Alp that ever poked its nose against the sky, dearer than all the
+Venices afloat--the greatest, most welcome sight that ever greeted my
+eyes was my own brass front door knob holding itself out there in the
+twilight of yesterday to welcome me home and twinkling in the fading
+light of day like a house afire as if to show it was glad to see me
+back. That's why the minute I came into the yard I took off my hat and
+knelt down before that old brass knob and kissed it."
+
+The old man's voice shook just a little as he spoke, and a small
+teardrop gathered and glistened in a corner of his eye--but it was a
+tear of joy and content, not of sorrow.
+
+"And then when I turned the knob and opened the door," he went on,
+"well--talk about your Palaces with all their magnificent shiny floors
+and gorgeous gold framed mirrors and hall-bedrooms as big as the Madison
+Square Garden--they couldn't compare to this old parlor of mine with the
+piano over on one side of the room, the refrigerator in the other, the
+leak beaming down from the ceiling, and my kitchen-stove peeking in
+through the door and sort of keeping an eye on things generally. And not
+a picture in all that 9643 miles of paint at the Loover can hold a
+candle to my beloved old Washington Crossing the Delaware over my
+mantel-piece, with the British bombarding him with snow-balls and the
+river filled to the brim with ice-bergs--no sirree! And best of all,
+nobody around to leave their aitches all over the place for somebody
+else to pick up, or any French language to take a pretty little bird and
+turn it into a wazzoh, or to turn a good honest hard boiled egg into an
+oof, but everybody from Me myself down to the kitchen-stove using the
+good old American language whenever we have something to say and holding
+our tongues in the same when we haven't."
+
+"Hooray for us!" cried Whistlebinkie, dancing with glee.
+
+"That's what I say," said the Unwiseman. "America's good enough for me
+and I'm glad I'm back."
+
+"Well I feel the same way," said Mollie. "I liked Europe very much
+indeed but somehow or other I like America best."
+
+"And for a very good reason," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"What?" asked Mollie.
+
+"Because it's Home," said the Unwiseman.
+
+"I guess-thassit," said Whistlebinkie.
+
+"Well don't guess again, Fizzledinkie," said the Unwiseman, "because
+that's the answer, and if you guessed again you might get it wrong."
+
+And so it was that Mollie and the Unwiseman and Whistlebinkie finished
+their trip abroad, and returned better pleased with Home than they had
+ever been before, which indeed is one of the greatest benefits any of us
+get out of a trip to Europe, for after all that fine old poet was right
+when he said:
+
+  "East or West
+  Home is best."
+
+In closing I think I ought to say that the Unwiseman's umbrella turned
+up in good order the next morning, and where do you suppose?
+
+Why up on the roof where the kind-hearted burglar had placed it to
+protect the Unwiseman's leak from the rain!
+
+So he seems to have been a pretty honest old burglar after all.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mollie and the Unwiseman Abroad, by
+John Kendrick Bangs
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