Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, January 10, 1891

This is the Isle of Man, the island of MATT MYLCHREEST, and NARY CROWE, but plenty of vultures, the island of Deemsters, and Keys, and Kirk Maughold, and Port y Vullin. Here at the Lague lived ADAM FATSISTER, the Deputy Governor, who had been selected for that post because he owned five hundred hungry acres, six hungrier sons, a face like an angel's in homespun, a flaccid figure, and a shrewd-faced wife, named RUTH. Hither came STIFFUN, to beg shelter. The footman opened the door to him, but would have closed it had not ADAM, with a lusty old oath, bidden him to let the man in. Hereupon STIFFUN's face softened, and the footman's dropped; but ORRORS, with an Icelander's inborn courtesy, picked it up, dusted it, and returned it to its owner. Shortly afterwards, STIFFUN became a bigamist and a wrecker, and had another son, whom, in honour of the Manxland Parliament, he christened MICHAEL MOONKEYS, and left him to be cared for by old ADAM, whose daughter's name was GREEBA. STIFFUN, as I have said, was a wrecker, a wrecker on strictly Homeric principles, but a wrecker, nevertheless. When storm-winds blew, he was a pitcher and tosser on the ocean, but, like other pitchers, he went to the bad once too often, and got broken on the rocks. Then came KANE WADE, and CHALSE, and MYLCHREEST, and they sang hymns to him.

"Ye've not lived a right life," said one. "Now, by me sowl, ye've got to die," sang another. "All flesh is as grass," roared a third. Suddenly FASON stood beside his bedside. "This," he thought, "is my father. I must kill him." But he restrained himself by a superhuman effort--and that was the end of ORRORS.

THE BOOK OF MICHAEL MOONKEYS.

MICHAEL and FASON were both the sons of ORRORS. They were both Homeric, and both fell in love with GREEBA, who flirted outrageously with both. These coincidences are absolutely essential in a tale of simple human passions. But, to be short, GREEBA married MICHAEL, who had become First President of the second Icelandic Republic. Thus GREEBA and MICHAEL were at Reykjavik. FASON followed, spurred by a blind feeling of revenge. About this time Mrs. FATSISTER took a dislike to her husband.

"Crinkum, crankum!" she said, "you'd have me toil and moil while you pat your nose at the fire."

"RUTH," said ADAM.

"Hoity toity!" cried she. "The house is mine. Away with you!" So poor old ADAM also set out for Reykjavik, and the boatmen cried after him, "_Dy banne jee oo_!" and he immediately jeeooed, as you shall hear. Last, GREEBA's six brothers packed up, and left for Reykjavik; and now that we have got all our characters safely there, or on the way, we can get on with the story. It may be mentioned, however, that Mrs. ADAM found a fever in a neglected cattle-trough. Being a grasping woman, she caught it, and took it home--and it killed her.

RED FASON meant to kill MICHAEL. That was plain. So he was tried by a Bishop and nine of his neighbours an hour or so after the attempt. And although the time was so short, all the witnesses had been collected, and all formalities completed. And FASON was dumb, but great of heart, and the Bishop condemned him to the sulphur-mines, for which he soon afterwards started with his long stride, and his shorn head, and his pallid face. Upon this the six brothers of GREEBA arrived, spread calumnies, and were believed. Their names were ASHER, JACOB, JOHN, THURSTAN, STEAN, and ROSS, but they preferred addressing one another as JOBBERNOWL, WASTREL, GOMERSTANG, BLUBBERHEAD, NUMSKULL, and BLATHERSKITE. It saved time, and made things pleasant all round. MICHAEL quarrelled with his wife, and there is no knowing what might have happened, if GORGON GORGONSEN, at the head of some Danish soldiers, had not upset the Republic, and banished MICHAEL to the sulphur-mines to join his brother.

THE BOOK OF RED FASON.

Poor ADAM arrived too late, yet he has his use in the tale, for his words to GORGON GORGONSEN were bitter words, such as the cruel old Governor liked not. And he harried him, and worried him, but without avail, for in Reykjavik money was justice, and ADAM had spent his. What availed it that a grey silt should come up out of the deposits of his memory? That was a totally unmarketable commodity in Reykjavik, as ADAM found to his cost. And in the end intending to shoot MICHAEL they shot FASON. And yet it is perfectly certain that the next chapter of this Saga, had there been a next, would have found all the characters once more in the Isle of Man. For nothing is more surely established than this: that a good (or a bad) Icelander, when he dies (or lives), goes always to the Isle of Man, and every self-respecting Manxman returns the compliment by going to Iceland. And thus are Sagas constructed. And this is the End.

Launce. When a poor man's cur shall cost him some thirteen shillings and sixpence within the year, look you, it goes hard; one that I brought up as a puppy; one of a mongrel litter that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind, breedless brothers and sisters went to it. Verily I will write to the Standard thereanent. Item--muzzle, two shillings; item--collar, under new order, two shillings and sixpence; item--engraving collar, under new order, one shilling and sixpence; item--licence, seven shillings and sixpence; total, thirteen shillings and sixpence, as aforesaid. Truly a poor man feeleth an amount like this, and hath to deny himself some necessary to preserve his affectionate companion, to wit, his dog. I have taught him, even as one would say, precisely, "thus would I teach a dog." O 'tis a foul thing when a dog cannot keep himself in all companies, but must grub for garbage in the gutter, and yap at constables' kibes! I would have, as one should say, one that takes upon himself to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. And art thou so, Crab? But verily 'tis I who have taught thee, that have also to pay for thee; and, whether the art wholly worth the cost, concerns not thee, but thy master. Thou hast of late many enemies in seats of office, and elsewhere; ministers, and scribes, and feeble folk in fidgety fear of hypothetical hydrophoby. "Out with the dog!" says one. "That cur looks mad!" says another; "Muzzle him!" says the third. "Knock me him on the head with a constable's staff!" cries the fourth; "Give him euthanasia at the Dog's Home!" suggests a fifth, with more sensibility; "Tax him, collar him, badge him, make his owner pay roundly for him!" saith the Minister of Agriculture. And they, between them, make me no more ado than whip me thirteen and six out of my pinched pocket to pay thee out of danger. How many masters would do this for their servant? Nay, I'll be sworn I have paid the fines inflicted by austere Magistrates, when thou, Crab, hast surreptitiously slipped thy muzzle, otherwise thou hadst been executed; I have "tipped" angry constables when thou hast stolen out not "under control," otherwise thou hadst suffered for't: thou thinkest not of this now! Nay, I remember the trick thou servedst me anigh the end of the year, when I had so far successfully dodged the Dog Tax for that season: did I not bid thee still mark me, and keep out of sight when the rate-collector called? When didst thou see me rush headlong upstairs and make madly for the collector's calves? Didst thou ever see me do such a fool's trick?

"If you please," said the Auditor of the Tottenham School Board accounts, "would you explain to me what that curious thing is that you have got in your hand?"

"With pleasure," replied the White Knight, who had recently been elected as a Member of the Board. "It's a Tellurium."

"I see that it cost the ratepayers four pounds to buy. What is the use of it?"

"Use?" said the White Knight, in mild surprise. "Oh, it's a most useful thing. A child who can't think of the right answer to a question about the stars, only has to put this thing on its head--at Examination time, you know--and it at once remembers all about it. It's got Electricity or something inside it. And the shape is my own invention."

"That's why it's called a Tellurium, then," remarked the Auditor, who could hardly help laughing, it all seemed so strange; "because, when they put it on, the children tell you the answer you want?"

"Yes; and WILLIAM TELL put an apple on his head, or on somebody else's head, and I thought the name would remind the children of that fact."

"Then the School must win an increased Government Grant, with this thing to help them," said the Auditor.

"Well," said the Knight, more despondently, "they have hardly had time to try it yet. In fact," he added, still more gloomily, "their teachers won't let them try it. But it's really an admirable idea, if it could be tried." And the White Knight fastened the curious object on his own head, whence it immediately fell with a crash upon the floor.

"It's too ridiculous!" exclaimed the Auditor, bursting into a little laugh. "I declare a Hektograph would be as useful for the children as this thing!"

"Would it?" asked the White Knight. "Does a Hektograph work well? Then we'll get one or two--several."

"And I notice," the Auditor went on, "that there is a thing called a Cyclostyle put down in the accounts. Please will you tell me what a Cyclostyle is, and what use it is for purposes of elementary education?"

"With pleasure," replied the White Knight, who seemed quite cheerful again; "it's an apparatus for catching cycles, if any should take to going round and round the room when the children are at their lessons. It does it in style, you see."