Uncle Joe's Stories

All this passed in a minute, and so indeed did that which followed. The cow, too utterly astonished at what had happened to think of interfering, even if her peaceful disposition would not in any case have prevented her doing so, stood aghast during the short struggle, rooted to the ground with horror and amazement. Then, when the horrid deed was done, she gave vent to a mighty, unearthly bellow, turned round, rushed to the stream, in which the reflection of the glorious moon above was clearly shining at the moment, leaped straight over it, and ran wildly away to the other end of the meadow.

Other actors appeared upon the scene at the same moment. Rover and Frisky had by chance come that way in their stroll, and had seen the musical performers just at the very moment when the cat gave vent to those discordant notes which had so offended the ears of the unfortunate hare.

They had precisely the same effect upon worthy Rover, who no sooner heard them than he threw himself upon the ground, buried his head in his paws, and tried to shut them out altogether. As he shut his eyes at the time, he did not immediately see what followed. In fact he lay still, groaning audibly for a minute or two, until aroused by shouts of laughter from his little companion.

"Look, Mr. Rover," exclaimed little Frisky, still holding his sides with merriment. "See what fun they are having! Effie and a hare are rolling about together so funnily. And see – oh, do look. Here comes the cow! Oh, what a jump!"

And he went off into another fit of laughter as the cow came thundering by them in her mad career.

But when Rover raised his head and looked forward, he comprehended the scene at once, and knew that it was no laughing matter, at least for one of the actors. For an instant – but only for an instant – he paused, but in the next moment his resolution was taken. With a loud, indignant bark, he sprang forward, and rushed towards the spot where the treacherous Effie still held her lifeless victim in her fatal embrace.

"Murderess!" he shouted, as he sprang across the stream. "Vile murderess, these then are your cockchafers, and this the meaning of your moonlight rambles! But you shall be punished for this abominable crime, and that without delay!"

Perhaps if good Rover had made a shorter speech, or rushed upon the cat without making one at all until he had caught her, he would have succeeded in his object, and avenged the poor hare.

But Effie was no fool, and as soon as she heard the honest bark of her old companion, she knew by instinct that the game was up, and that the sooner she was off the better. Therefore, without a moment's delay, she tore herself from the still panting body of the luckless hare, and darted into the wood scarce half-a-dozen yards in front of the pursuing Rover. In fact I think he would actually have caught her, and possibly changed the whole current of the future relations which were thenceforward to exist between their respective races, but for her skill in climbing, of which she took advantage by rushing up a large leafy oak which stood near the outside of the wood, and from the lofty branches of which she presently sat licking her lips and looking down in safety upon her late friend, but now justly incensed enemy.

With bitter words did the good dog upbraid her with her cold unkindness and deceit towards himself, and with her still worse treachery and cruelty towards her more recent acquaintance, the hare. He warned her against approaching any more the house which had hitherto been their joint home, and declared that for his part he could no longer have any friendship for one so utterly base and wicked.

The cat, having no real defence to make against honest Rover's attack, contented herself with setting up her back, and spitting violently until she had somewhat cooled down. Then, with consummate craft, she began to excuse herself, declaring that the dog was himself in fault, that his arrogance and overbearing manners had become perfectly insufferable, and that if she had done anything unworthy of her noble race, it was not to a dog that she looked to be reproved for the same.

The bitter language which passed between these two animals is believed by Jenny to have been the source and origin of the subsequent estrangement of the two races, and there seems no reason to doubt the accuracy of her information. Certain it is that Effie never returned home; whether remorse for her disgraceful conduct had any share in producing this result, or whether it was simply from the fear of Rover's threats, it is at this distance of time impossible to say.

But from that day to this not only did this particular cat never associate with dogs upon friendly terms, but for any cat to do so, after she had left kittenhood and reached years of discretion, was and is quite exceptional conduct.

Some of Effie's race frequent the woods and mountain fastnesses, avoiding altogether the abodes of men; others, indeed, consent to be considered as "domestic" animals, but they, for the most part, regard a dog as an intruder if he enters the house-door, and keep him at arm's length as much as possible.

Rover returned home on that eventful night tired in body and sad at heart. To his honest and confiding nature it had been a cruel blow to find that one whom he had of old trusted and loved had turned out to be both treacherous and cruel. Singularly enough, in his return home, whom should he encounter but the weasel, who, forgetful of his usual caution, and desirous of annoying his enemy, let him know that he was aware of the cat having deceived him, and too plainly showed his exultation at the quarrel which had taken place, and his hope that it would be permanent. Rover rushed upon the little beast before he could escape, and made an end of him with a single shake.

The result as regarded the magpie was more curious still. Being an inveterate thief, she no sooner saw that both the dogs, as well as the cat, were out of the house, than she flew in through the window, and seized a silver spoon which was lying upon an ordinary meat dish for the usual purpose to which such articles are devoted, namely, the helping of the gravy. Delighted with her booty, she flew to the window-sill, and having hid the spoon in the ivy which clustered round it, had just hopped into the room again, when the door suddenly opened, and the window blew to with a bang in consequence of the sudden draught.

As it was a self-fastening window, the bird was unable to get out, and sat there trembling whilst the man-servant belonging to the house entered the room. Looking round, he presently perceived some gravy spilt on the clean table-cloth, and another glance satisfied him that the silver gravy spoon was missing.

As he knew he should be held responsible for the loss, the plate being all in his charge, the man was naturally much annoyed, and looked right and left to see where on earth the spoon could have flown to. Soon he espied the magpie crouching in the corner of the window-seat, and trying to hide herself.

"There's the thief, I'll be bound!" he cried, and stepped towards her.

The bird, quite beside herself with fear, fluttered on this side and that, vainly endeavouring to escape through the window.

"No you don't!" said the man. "You've been stealing, have you, Mistress Mag. Where's the silver gravy spoon?"

"Oh!" shrieked the magpie; "I never stole it! – I never stole it!"

"What has become of it?" said the man.

"Oh, I don't know – indeed I don't know! The dish ran away with it!" shrieked the magpie, in great distress of mind, as the man reached out his hand to seize her.

"Tell that to the marines!" replied the man, which was an idle and useless saying, for there were no marines there; and if there had been, it was highly improbable that the magpie would have told them.

He seized the bird by the wing, and in the agitation and confusion of the moment, she resented the affront by giving him a sharp peck on the hand, a compliment which he returned by immediately wringing her neck.

Thus (said Jenny invariably, when she reached this point in her story) you see that treachery and cunning, although they may be successful for a time, in the long run always bring those who practise them into trouble. So the magpie and weasel, who, by their malicious tricks brought disunion among friends, and introduced strife into a once united family, both lost their own lives within a very short time after the success of their wily arts had been accomplished.

It was upon this old legend that the song was founded to which I alluded at the beginning of the story. I confess that I am not quite clear about the first words, "Hey diddle diddle!" Wise men and learned writers have given several interpretations of this interjaculation, or invocation, or exclamation, or whatever you please to call it.

Some think that the word "diddle" (not to be found in any English dictionary of repute) must be a proper name, and that either it belonged to the man who, owning the house in which the dog and cat lived, knew all the circumstances of the story, and being likely to be interested in it, was naturally invoked by the author at the beginning of his song; or that it was, in fact, the name of the author himself, and that the words mean that "I, Diddle, wish to call your attention to the following extraordinary facts." Others, however, equally learned, hold that the word to "diddle" signifies, in slang or common language, to "do" – to "get the better of" – "to cheat," and that so the words intend to convey the moral of the whole story; namely, that those who try to cheat others generally suffer for it in some way or other. Another interpretation is that it is only another form of the word "Idyll," and that this song about the cat and dog is meant as a species of "Idyll" or "Diddle," on one of the most important topics which has ever agitated the animal world. But, whatever be their origin, there the words are, and they are the only words in the song which have caused me the slightest doubt. They are the more curious if the story be true that the song was composed by a very respectable jay, who was fully acquainted with the facts as they occurred.

She could have known nothing about "Diddle," if he was a man; and very likely only put the words in to suit the jingle of the rhyme. There can be no doubt that "the cat and the fiddle," are words in which is intended a satirical allusion to Effie's lessons on the violin with the unfortunate hare; and "the cow jumped over the moon," is an unmistakeable allusion to the cow's leap over the stream in which the image of the moon was reflected at the moment.

When I think of the palpable reference in the next words to the conduct of the little poodle who had accompanied Rover, and remember the unhappy magpie's attempt to avoid her well-deserved fate by attempting to impute her crime to the dish, I can have no difficulty whatever in coming to the conclusion that it is upon Jenny's legend that this remarkable song has been founded.

Judging, moreover, from the acknowledged antiquity of the legend, and the extraordinary way in which the facts it relates seem to fit and dove-tail in with the circumstances we all know of as bearing upon the general relations between cat and dog, I am inclined to strongly favour the opinion that the story is the correct version of the first beginning of the great and terrible schism which exists between the races. It should be a warning to us human beings to be careful how we place confidence either in dog or cat with regard to the other.

If a breakage occurs in my house, and the servant in whose department it has happened brings forward the not altogether unfamiliar statement that "the cat did it," I always suspect that some dog has probably whispered it in his or her ear; and any imputation upon the conduct of my dogs I invariably attribute to the suggestion of some old cat. Still, the world is wide enough for both races; and, looking at it from a selfish point of view, their feud does not so much matter, so long as they are both obedient and useful to mankind.

Wherefore, after I had heard Jenny's narrative, and duly rewarded her with a carrot, I always used to go home and think how much we may all learn from the habits of the different animals with which our world is peopled, and how their errors are in reality no greater than our own. For I am sure I have before now heard people both sing and play the fiddle, without any more pretension than Effie to be able to do either; I have heard people boast of having done things quite as impossible as that the cow should really have jumped over the moon; I have known people over and over again laugh in the wrong place like the little dog, and call things sport which are nothing of the kind, and I have listened to those who could accuse their neighbours of crimes just as unlikely as that which the magpie attributed to the dish.

I will say no more, save that I hope it never happens now among men and women, that husband and wife ever live in such a manner as to justify the description of their existence as being "like Cat and Dog!"

OPHELIA

Next to an insane Giant there is nothing more terrible than a mad Pigmy. It was therefore a dreadful event for all people concerned when the King of the Pigmies went out of his senses. The disease came on gradually, and was not immediately discovered.

His majesty had never been of a very lively disposition, and the court was therefore not much amazed when he withdrew from the public gaze, little by little, until he was very rarely visible beyond the precincts of the palace, and was understood to be deep in his studies. Those, however, who had the privilege of being immediately about his royal person, were well aware that his majesty was seriously indisposed. At first the symptoms were only those of profound melancholy. He declined his food repeatedly, refused to open his letters, buried his face constantly in his hands, and went to bed when the dinner bell rang.

This was unpleasant, as the royal household were forbidden by the laws of that kingdom to have any dinner except at the same time with the king, and as pigmies are invariably blessed with good appetites, much inconvenience would have been caused but for the recognised fact that nobody ever obeyed the laws unless it happened to suit him to do so. In this manner the difficulty was got over, and the illness of the king might have been concealed from his people if no other symptoms had appeared. But from silent melancholy the unhappy monarch shortly passed to the stage of frantic violence.

He threw anything he could lay hands on at the head of any individual who came near him, used the most fearful language, and gave the most extraordinary orders. These at first were evaded or received in silence in the hope they might be forgotten as soon as spoken. But when the king insisted upon it that the Prime Minister should be cut in pieces, the Lord Chamberlain fed upon rabbit skins and oil, and the Chief Justice baked without further delay, these functionaries severally and together came to the conclusion that the thing could go no further.

The laws of Pigmyland were clear and well known; upon the death or incapacity through illness of the reigning sovereign, his eldest son always ascended the throne as a matter of course, and, failing sons, his nearest relative succeeded to the sceptre.

Unfortunately, however, the King of the Pigmies had neither son nor relative of any kind, which arose principally from the fact of his having destroyed his father's and mother's families, owing to those jealous fears which often disturb and distract the minds of tyrants, and from the additional circumstance that he had never seen fit to marry. Thus King Pugpoz was the last of his race, and although he was undoubtedly no longer fit to govern the nation, the question as to his successor was, as will readily be imagined, one of very great doubt and difficulty.

The three great officers of state, that is to say, the Prime Minister, the Lord Chamberlain and the Chief Justice, who rejoiced in the ancient and highsounding names of Binks, Chinks and Pigspud, laid their heads together several times before they could by any means agree as to what should be done. Each of them would have been willing to undertake the government himself, and each thought that he was the best person to whom it could possibly be entrusted. But the other two held quite a different opinion. Chinks and Pigspud well knew that Binks, eaten up with gout and rheumatism, was not a person whom the Pigmy nation would ever accept for their king: Pigspud and Binks were perfectly well aware that Chinks had a wife and family, whose combined arrogance and extravagance would certainly ruin the kingdom if he were placed upon the throne, and Binks and Chinks were thoroughly acquainted with the evil life which caused the public to regard Pigspud as one of the worst of men though the best of judges.

So, since it was evident that none of the three could be safely elevated to the throne, it became necessary to look about for somebody else.

The names of all the great people about the court were duly considered, but although there were several who would have been very willing to undertake the business, there were objections to all. One was too old, another too idle, a third of too tyrannous a disposition, and a fourth too stupid for the place. So for a time it really seemed as if it would be impossible to find a king, and that they must either put up with their mad sovereign or go without one altogether.

Neither of these results, however, would have been satisfactory, either to the court or to the nation, and it was therefore with joy rather than anger that the three great officers of state received the news that a relation of the royal family had been discovered to exist, in whom a successor to the unhappy madman might be found. This was the only son of the king's uncle, who, having been cruelly treated by his father in early youth, had left Pigmyland in disgust and had been currently reported to have died shortly afterwards. This, however, had not been the case.

Prince Famcram had done nothing of the kind, and had never intended to leave the world unless compelled to do so, by circumstances beyond his control. He had embarked on board a vessel which was bound on a long voyage, and had possibly cherished the hope that his absence from home would soften his father's heart, and procure for him kinder treatment upon his return. It is impossible to say whether this might or might not have been the result, inasmuch as the opportunity of proving the same never occurred.

It was not long after the prince's flight, that his cousin the king took it into his royal head to destroy all his blood relations, among whom his uncle, the prince's father, naturally perished. When, therefore, the young man next received news of his family, he learned that there were none of them left alive except the royal destroyer of the rest. This news, strange as it may appear, afforded him no inducement to return to the land of his nativity, for, dear as one's country should be to every well regulated mind, life is not unfrequently dearer still, and Prince Famcram was unable to discover any sufficient reason why he should imperil the one by visiting the other.

He stayed away, therefore, and lived as best he could in foreign lands, until the insanity of his cousin King Pugpoz had been officially proclaimed and publicly made known. Then, having no longer any fear for his life, he returned to Pigmyland without delay, and at once advanced his claim to the sovereignty.

There were, as is usual in such cases, some persons who pretended to doubt his identity and declared that he was only an impostor. The evidence in his favour was, however, too strong for these disloyal and worthless persons.

The prince had all the characteristics of his noble family. His hair was of a bright, staring red; he squinted frightfully with both eyes, had one leg considerably shorter than the other, and was gifted with a protuberance between his shoulders which was not far removed from a hump. He had, moreover, the family dislike to cold water, a strong propensity to drink spirits, and a temper which of itself was enough to stamp him as one of the royal line which he claimed to represent. Add to this, that his language was by no means well chosen or polite, that his disposition was cowardly and cruel, and that he cared for nobody in the world but himself, and you have a fair and accurate picture of the prince upon whose head the crown of the unhappy Pugpoz was about to descend.

It may readily be inferred that the prospects of Pigmyland did not seem to have been much brightened by the change. Indeed, between a mad king and a bad king the difference appeared so small to some people that they were unable to see what the country had gained by the substitution of the one for the other. Nevertheless, the unswerving devotion to royalty which has always distinguished Pigmies did not fail that mighty nation upon the present occasion.

Famcram was welcomed by the voice of the people, and those who doubted his identity were got rid of as soon as possible. His first act, indeed, put beyond doubt the righteous nature of his claim. He directed Pugpoz to be immediately strangled, partly to avenge the death of his relatives, and partly because he thought it a safer and more satisfactory arrangement that any chance of his returning to a sane condition of mind should at once be destroyed.

Being now undeniably the only legitimate claimant to the throne of his ancestors, he determined to enjoy himself as much as he possibly could.

There were considerable treasures in the royal coffers, which had been amassed by Pugpoz and his predecessors, and with which King Famcram might have purchased as much enjoyment as would have served him for a prolonged life-time. Being, however, of opinion that to be merry at other people's expense is by far the best plan if you can possibly manage it, he gave out that he expected the principal grandees of the country to entertain him at banquets, balls, croquet and lawn-tennis parties, and in order to encourage them in their endeavours to out-do each other in pleasing their beloved monarch, he declared his intention of marrying the daughter of the nobleman who, at the end of the next six months, should have best succeeded in that laudable attempt. The influence of such a promise was of course prodigious.

To be the father-in-law of the king was an object well worth the attainment, and every great man throughout the length and breadth of the country felt his heart beat high at the royal announcement. Some indeed there were, who, having no daughters, were not particularly impressed by the circumstance, and spoke of the whole affair as a whim of the monarch to which slight importance was to be attached. Others, who, having seen the manner in which the late king had disposed of his relations, doubted the advantage of becoming too closely connected with the royal family, proposed to themselves to take no particular pains to surpass their neighbours in the attempt to please King Famcram. But, to tell the truth, the great majority of those who heard the royal determination, and who happened to have marriageable daughters, received the news with great delight, and determined to spare no exertion which might secure such a son-in-law for themselves.

Conspicuous among these would-be competitors for the prize were the three great officials, Binks, Chinks, and Pigspud. Each was married, and none was daughterless. To all three, therefore, the field was open, and hope beat high in their official breasts.

Since they first heard of the arrival and claims of Famcram, the three statesmen had unitedly and steadily welcomed and supported him. They had therefore some claims upon the royal gratitude, and hitherto their interests had been so far identical that they had been able to work together. Now, however, the interests of each were opposed to those of the other two.

According to the laws of Pigmyland, the king could only marry one wife, and therefore his selection of the daughter of either of the three ministers would at once throw the others in the shade, and place the father of the bride in a position far superior to that of the other two. This circumstance, as might have been expected, caused some slight interruption of the harmony which had hitherto prevailed between these three illustrious personages. At first, however, the only intention of each of them was honestly to outdo the other two in the splendour of the reception which he should afford his sovereign. To Binks, as Prime Minister, fell the first opportunity, and King Famcram gave him due notice that he should shortly honour him with a visit to his villa, which was situate near the Pigmy metropolis.