Fantastic Fables, Ambrose Bierce [the little red hen ebook txt] 📗

in token of their banishment to the Realm of

Ineffable Bosh. For one of these accursed creatures was the First

of January, and the other the Twenty-fifth of December.

 

The Austere Governor

 

A GOVERNOR visiting a State prison was implored by a Convict to

pardon him.

 

“What are you in for?” asked the Governor.

 

“I held a high office,” the Convict humbly replied, “and sold

subordinate appointments.”

 

“Then I decline to interfere,” said the Governor, with asperity; “a

man who abuses his office by making it serve a private end and

purvey a personal advantage is unfit to be free. By the way, Mr.

Warden,” he added to that official, as the Convict slunk away, “in

appointing you to this position, I was given to understand that

your friends could make the Shikane county delegation to the next

State convention solid for - for the present Administration. Was I

rightly informed?”

 

“You were, sir.”

 

“Very well, then, I will bid you good-day. Please be so good as to

appoint my nephew Night Chaplain and Reminder of Mothers and

Sisters.”

 

Religions of Error

 

HEARING a sound of strife, a Christian in the Orient asked his

Dragoman the cause of it.

 

“The Buddhists are cutting Mohammedan throats,” the Dragoman

replied, with oriental composure.

 

“I did not know,” remarked the Christian, with scientific interest,

“that that would make so much noise.”

 

“The Mohammedans are cutting Buddhist throats, too,” added the

Dragoman.

 

“It is astonishing,” mused the Christian, “how violent and how

general are religious animosities. Everywhere in the world the

devotees of each local faith abhor the devotees of every other, and

abstain from murder only so long as they dare not commit it. And

the strangest thing about it is that all religions are erroneous

and mischievous excepting mine. Mine, thank God, is true and

benign.”

 

So saying he visibly smugged and went off to telegraph for a

brigade of cutthroats to protect Christian interests.

 

The Penitent Elector

 

A PERSON belonging to the Society for Passing Resolutions of

Respect for the Memory of Deceased Members having died received the

customary attention.

 

“Good Heavens!” exclaimed a Sovereign Elector, on hearing the

resolutions read, “what a loss to the nation! And to think that I

once voted against that angel for Inspector of Gate-latches in

Public Squares!”

 

In remorse the Sovereign Elector deprived himself of political

influence by learning to read.

 

The Tail of the Sphinx

 

A DOG of a taciturn disposition said to his Tail:

 

“Whenever I am angry, you rise and bristle; when I am pleased, you

wag; when I am alarmed, you tuck yourself in out of danger. You

are too mercurial - you disclose all my emotions. My notion is

that tails are given to conceal thought. It is my dearest ambition

to be as impassive as the Sphinx.”

 

“My friend, you must recognise the laws and limitations of your

being,” replied the Tail, with flexions appropriate to the

sentiments uttered, “and try to be great some other way. The

Sphinx has one hundred and fifty qualifications for impassiveness

which you lack.”

 

“What are they?” the Dog asked.

 

“One hundred and forty-nine tons of sand on her tail.”

 

“And - ?”

 

“A stone tail.”

 

A Prophet of Evil

 

AN Undertaker Who Was a Member of a Trust saw a Man Leaning on a

Spade, and asked him why he was not at work.

 

“Because,” said the Man Leaning on a Spade, “I belong to the

Gravediggers’ National Extortion Society, and we have decided to

limit the production of graves and get more money for the reduced

output. We have a corner in graves and propose to work it to the

best advantage.”

 

“My friend,” said the Undertaker Who Was a Member of a Trust, “this

is a most hateful and injurious scheme. If people cannot be

assured of graves, I fear they will no longer die, and the best

interests of civilisation will wither like a frosted leaf.”

 

And blowing his eyes upon his handkerchief, he walked away

lamenting.

 

The Crew of the Life-boat

 

THE Gallant Crew at a life-saving station were about to launch

their life-boat for a spin along the coast when they discovered,

but a little distance away, a capsized vessel with a dozen men

clinging to her keel.

 

“We are fortunate,” said the Gallant Crew, “to have seen that in

time. Our fate might have been the same as theirs.”

 

So they hauled the life-boat back into its house, and were spared

to the service of their country.

 

A Treaty of Peace

 

THROUGH massacres of each other’s citizens China and the United

States had been four times plunged into devastating wars, when, in

the year 1994, arose a Philosopher in Madagascar, who laid before

the Governments of the two distracted countries the following MODUS

VIVENDI:

 

“Massacres are to be sternly forbidden as heretofore; but any

citizen or subject of either country disobeying the injunction is

to detach the scalps of all persons massacred and deposit them with

a local officer designated to receive and preserve them and sworn

to keep and render a true account thereof. At the conclusion of

each massacre in either country, or as soon thereafter as

practicable, or at stated regular periods, as may be provided by

treaty, there shall be an exchange of scalps between the two

Governments, scalp for scalp, without regard to sex or age; the

Government having the greatest number is to be taxed on the excess

at the rate of $1000 a scalp, and the other Government credited

with the amount. Once in every decade there shall be a general

settlement, when the balance due shall be paid to the creditor

nation in Mexican dollars.”

 

The plan was adopted, the necessary treaty made, with legislation

to carry out its provisions; the Madagascarene Philosopher took his

seat in the Temple of Immortality, and Peace spread her white wings

over the two nations, to the unspeakable defiling of her plumage.

 

The Nightside of Character

 

A GIFTED and Honourable Editor, who by practice of his profession

had acquired wealth and distinction, applied to an Old Friend for

the hand of his daughter in marriage.

 

“With all my heart, and God bless you!” said the Old Friend,

grasping him by both hands. “It is a greater honour than I had

dared to hope for.”

 

“I knew what your answer would be,” replied the Gifted and

Honourable Editor. “And yet,” he added, with a sly smile, “I feel

that I ought to give you as much knowledge of my character as I

possess. In this scrap-book is such testimony relating to my shady

side, as I have within the past ten years been able to cut from the

columns of my competitors in the business of elevating humanity to

a higher plane of mind and morals - my ‘loathsome contemporaries.’”

 

Laying the book on a table, he withdrew in high spirits to make

arrangements for the wedding. Three days later he received the

scrap-book from a messenger, with a note warning him never again to

darken his Old Friend’s door.

 

“See!” the Gifted and Honourable Editor exclaimed, pointing to that

injunction - “I am a painter and grainer!”

 

And he was led away to the Asylum for the Indiscreet.

 

The Faithful Cashier

 

THE Cashier of a bank having defaulted was asked by the Directors

what he had done with the money taken.

 

“I am greatly surprised by such a question,” said the Cashier; “it

sounds as if you suspected me of selfishness. Gentlemen, I applied

that money to the purpose for which I took it; I paid it as an

initiation fee and one year’s dues in advance to the Treasurer of

the Cashiers’ Mutual Defence Association.”

 

“What is the object of that organisation?” the Directors inquired.

 

“When any one of its members is under suspicion,” replied the

Cashier, “the Association undertakes to clear his character by

submitting evidence that he was never a prominent member of any

church, nor foremost in Sunday-school work.”

 

Recognising the value to the bank of a spotless reputation for its

officers, the President drew his check for the amount of the

shortage and the Cashier was restored to favour.

 

The Circular Clew

 

A DETECTIVE searching for the murderer of a dead man was accosted

by a Clew.

 

“Follow me,” said the Clew, “and there’s no knowing what you may

discover.”

 

So the Detective followed the Clew a whole year through a thousand

sinuosities, and at last found himself in the office of the Morgue.

 

“There!” said the Clew, pointing to the open register.

 

The Detective eagerly scanned the page, and found an official

statement that the deceased was dead. Thereupon he hastened to

Police Headquarters to report progress. The Clew, meanwhile,

sauntered among the busy haunts of men, arm in arm with an

Ingenious Theory.”

 

The Devoted Widow

 

A WIDOW weeping on her husband’s grave was approached by an

Engaging Gentleman who, in a respectful manner, assured her that he

had long entertained for her the most tender feelings.

 

“Wretch!” cried the Widow. “Leave me this instant! Is this a time

to talk to me of love?”

 

“I assure you, madam, that I had not intended to disclose my

affection,” the Engaging Gentleman humbly explained, “but the power

of your beauty has overcome my discretion.”

 

“You should see me when I have not been crying,” said the Widow.

 

The Hardy Patriots

 

A DISPENSER-ELECT of Patronage gave notice through the newspapers

that applicants for places would be given none until he should

assume the duties of his office.

 

“You are exposing yourself to a grave danger,” said a Lawyer.

 

“How so?” the Dispenser-Elect inquired.

 

“It will be nearly two months,” the Lawyer answered, “before the

day that you mention. Few patriots can live so long without

eating, and some of the applicants will be compelled to go to work

in the meantime. If that kills them, you will be liable to

prosecution for murder.”

 

“You underrate their powers of endurance,” the official replied.

 

“What!” said the Lawyer, “you think they can stand work?”

 

“No,” said the other - “hunger.”

 

The Humble Peasant

 

AN Office Seeker whom the President had ordered out of Washington

was watering the homeward highway with his tears.

 

“Ah,” he said, “how disastrous is ambition! how unsatisfying its

rewards! how terrible its disappointments! Behold yonder peasant

tilling his field in peace and contentment! He rises with the

lark, passes the day in wholesome toil, and lies down at night to

pleasant dreams. In the mad struggle for place and power he has no

part; the roar of the strife reaches his ear like the distant

murmur of the ocean. Happy, thrice happy man! I will approach him

and bask in the sunshine of his humble felicity. Peasant, all

hail!”

 

Leaning upon his rake, the Peasant returned the salutation with a

nod, but said nothing.

 

“My friend,” said the Office Seeker, “you see before you the wreck

of an ambitious man - ruined by the pursuit of place and power.

This morning when I set out from the national capital - “

 

“Stranger,” the Peasant interrupted, “if you’re going back there

soon maybe you wouldn’t mind using your influence to make me

Postmaster at Smith’s Corners.”

 

The traveller passed on.

 

The Various Delegation

 

THE King of Wideout having been offered the sovereignty of Wayoff,

sent for the Three Persons who had made the offer, and said to

them:

 

“I am extremely obliged to you, but before accepting so great a

responsibility I must ascertain