Produced by Emmanuel Ackerman, Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
BY H. B. and B. T. B. _Authors of “More Beasts (For Worse Children)”_
EDWARD ARNOLD 37, BEDFORD STREET, LONDON 1898
BAD CHILD’S BOOK OF BEASTS. Fcap. 4to., 2s. 6d. nett. ALDEN & CO., OXFORD.
MORE BEASTS (for Worse Children). Demy 4to., 3s. 6d. EDWARD ARNOLD, LONDON.
[Illustration: Forgive the litter in the room. ** Our traveller and a journalist in a room littered with miscellaneous African artifacts.]
The _Daily Menace_, I presume? Forgive the litter in the room. I can’t explain to you How out of place a man like me Would be without the things you see,-- The Shields and Assegais and odds And ends of little savage gods. Be seated; take a pew. (Excuse the phrase. I’m rather rough, And--pardon me!--but have you got A pencil? I’ve another here: The one that you have brought, I fear, Will not be long enough.)
[Illustration ** A journalist taking notes from our traveller, who is talking.]
And so the Public want to hear About the expedition From which I recently returned: Of how the Fetish Tree was burned; Of how we struggled to the coast, And lost our ammunition; How we retreated, side by side; And how, like Englishmen, we died. Well, as you know, I hate to boast, And, what is more, I can’t abide A popular position. I told the Duke the other day The way I felt about it. He answered courteously--“Oh!” An Editor (who had an air Of what the Dutch call _savoir faire_) Said, “Mr. Rooter, you are right, And nobody can doubt it.” The Duchess murmured, “Very true.” Her comments may be brief and few, But very seldom trite. Still, representing as you do A public and a point of view, I’ll give you leave to jot A few remarks,--a very few,-- But understand that this is not A formal interview. And, first of all, I will begin By talking of Commander Sin.
[Illustration ** Our traveller and the Duke in evening dress (tailcoats), standing and talking.]
Poor Henry Sin from quite a child, I fear, was always rather wild; But all his faults were due To something free and unrestrained, That partly pleased and partly pained The people whom he knew. Untaught (for what our times require), Lazy, and something of a liar, He had a foolish way Of always swearing (more or less); And, lastly, let us say A little slovenly in dress, A trifle prone to drunkenness; A gambler also to excess, And never known to pay. As for his clubs in London, he Was pilled at ten, expelled from three. A man Bohemian as could be-- But really vicious? Oh, no! When these are mentioned, all is said. And then--Commander Sin is dead: _De Mortuis cui bono?_