Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Magic Pudding by Norman Lindsay (read this if TXT) 📖
- Author: Norman Lindsay
Book online «The Magic Pudding by Norman Lindsay (read this if TXT) 📖». Author Norman Lindsay
MAGIC PUDDING Written and Illustrated by
NORMAN LINDSAY
DOVER PUBLICATIONS, INC.
Mineola, New York
Bibliographical Note
This Dover edition, first published in 2006, is an unabridged
republication of the work published by Angus and Robertson, Ltd.,
Sydney, Australia, in 1918.
International Standard Book Number: 0-486-45281-6
Manufactured in the United States of America
Dover Publications, Inc., 31 East 2nd Street, Mineola, N.Y. 11501
[Pg 5]
CONTENTS
This is a frontways view of Bunyip Bluegum and his Uncle Wattleberry. At a glance you can see what a fine, round, splendid fellow Bunyip Bluegum is, without me telling you. At a second glance you can see that the [Pg 6]Uncle is more square than round, and that his face has whiskers on it.
Looked at sideways you can still see what a splendid fellow Bunyip is, though you can only see one of his Uncle's whiskers.
Observed from behind, however, you completely lose sight of the whiskers, and so fail to realize how immensely important they are. In [Pg 7]fact, these very whiskers were the chief cause of Bunyip's leaving home to see the world, for, as he often said to himself—
Attached to faces coarse and rough;
But how much greater their offence is
When stuck on Uncles' countenances.'
[Pg 8]
The plain truth was that Bunyip and his Uncle lived in a small house in a tree, and there was no room for the whiskers. What was worse, the whiskers were red, and they blew about in the wind, and Uncle Wattleberry would insist on bringing them to the dinner table with him, where they got in the soup.
Bunyip Bluegum was a tidy bear, and he objected to whisker soup, so he was forced to eat his meals outside, which was awkward, and besides, lizards came and borrowed his soup.
His Uncle refused to listen to reason on the subject of his whiskers. It was quite useless giving him hints, such as presents of razors, and scissors, and boxes of matches to burn them off. On such occasions he [Pg 9]would remark—
For dignity, commend me to the whisker.'
Or, when more deeply moved, he would exclaim—
So noble whiskers dignify the face.'
Prayers and entreaties to remove the whiskers being of no avail, Bunyip decided to leave home without more ado.
The trouble was that he couldn't make up his mind whether to be a Traveller or a Swagman. You can't go about the world being nothing, but if you are a traveller you have to carry a bag, while if you are a swagman you[Pg 10] have to carry a swag, and the question is: Which is the heavier?
At length he decided to put the matter before Egbert Rumpus Bumpus, the poet, and ask his advice. He found Egbert busy writing poems on a slate. He was so busy that he only had time to sing out—
Until his poem's at an end.'
and went on writing harder than ever. He wrote all down one side of the slate and all up the other, and then remarked—
The time has come to have our chat.
Be quick, my friend, your business state,
Before I take another slate.'
[Pg 11]
'The fact is,' said the Bunyip, 'I have decided to see the world, and I cannot make up my mind whether to be a Traveller or a Swagman. Which would you advise?'
Then said the Poet—
A traveller you cannot be;
And as a swag you haven't either
You cannot be a swagman neither.
For travellers must carry bags,
And swagmen have to hump their swags
Like bottle-ohs or ragmen.
As you have neither swag nor bag
You must remain a simple wag,
And not a swag- or bagman.'
[Pg 12]
'Dear me,' said Bunyip Bluegum, 'I never thought of that. What must I do in order to see the world without carrying swags or bags?'
The Poet thought deeply, put on his eyeglass, and said impressively—
For bags are just as bad as swags;
They're never made to measure.
To see the world, your simple trick
Is but to take a walking-stick[Pg 13]—
Assume an air of pleasure,
And tell the people near and far
You stroll about because you are
A Gentleman of Leisure.'
'You have solved the problem,' said Bunyip Bluegum, and, wringing his friend's hand, he ran straight home, took his Uncle's walking-stick, and assuming an air of pleasure, set off to see the world.
He found a great many things to see, such as dandelions, and ants, and traction engines, and bolting horses, and furniture being removed, besides being kept busy raising his hat, and passing the time of day with people on the road, for he was a very well-bred young fellow, polite in his manners, graceful in his attitudes, and able to converse on a great variety of subjects, having read all the best Australian poets.
Unfortunately, in the hurry of leaving home, he had[Pg 14] forgotten to provide himself with food, and at lunch time found himself attacked by the pangs of hunger.
'Dear me,' he said, 'I feel quite faint. I had no idea that one's stomach was so important. I have everything I require, except food; but without food everything is rather less than nothing.
I've got a mind to think with.
I've got a voice to talk with.
I've got an eye to wink with.
I've lots of teeth to eat with,
A brand new hat to bow with,
A pair of fists to beat with,
A rage to have a row with.
No joy it brings
To have indeed
A lot of things
One does not need.
Observe my doleful plight.
For here am I without a crumb
To satisfy a raging tum—
O what an oversight!'
As he was indulging in these melancholy reflexions he came round a bend in the road, and discovered two people in the very act of having lunch. These people were none other than Bill Barnacle, the sailor, and his friend, Sam Sawnoff, the penguin bold.
Bill was a small man with a large hat, a beard half as large as his hat, and feet half as large as his beard. Sam Sawnoff's feet were sitting down and his body was standing up, because his feet were so short and his body so long that he had to do both together. They had a pudding in a basin, and the smell that arose from it was so delightful that Bunyip Bluegum was quite unable to pass on.[Pg 15]
'Excuse me,' he said, raising his hat, 'but am I right in supposing that this is a steak-and-kidney pudding?'
'At present it is,' said Bill Barnacle.
'It smells delightful,' said Bunyip Bluegum.
'It is delightful,' said Bill, eating a large mouthful.
Bunyip Bluegum was too much of a gentleman to invite himself to lunch, but he said carelessly, 'Am I right in supposing that there are onions in this pudding?'
Before Bill could reply, a thick, angry voice came out of the pudding, saying[Pg 16]—
Whiskers, wheels and hansom cabs,
Beef and bottles, beer and bones,
Give him a feed and end his groans.'
'Albert, Albert,' said Bill to the Puddin', 'where's your manners?'
'Where's yours?' said the Puddin' rudely, 'guzzling away there, and never so much as offering this stranger a slice.'
'There you are,' said Bill. 'There's nothing this Puddin' enjoys more than offering slices of himself to strangers.'
'How very polite of him,' said Bunyip, but the Puddin' replied loudly—
Politeness be jumbled and tumbled and banged.
It's simply a matter of putting on pace,
Politeness has nothing to do with the case.'
[Pg 17]
'Always anxious to be eaten,' said Bill, 'that's this Puddin's mania. Well, to oblige him, I ask you to join us at lunch.'
'Delighted, I'm sure,' said Bunyip, seating himself. 'There's nothing I enjoy more than a good go in at steak-and-kidney pudding in the open air.'
'Well said,' remarked Sam Sawnoff, patting him on the back. 'Hearty eaters are always welcome.'
'You'll enjoy this Puddin',' said Bill, handing him a large slice. 'This is a very rare Puddin'.'
'It's a cut-an'-come-again Puddin',' said Sam.
'It's a Christmas, steak, and apple-dumpling Puddin',' said Bill.
'It's a—Shall I tell him?' he asked, looking at Bill. Bill nodded, and the Penguin leaned across to Bunyip Bluegum and said in a low voice, 'It's a Magic Puddin'.'
'No whispering,' shouted the Puddin' angrily. 'Speak up. Don't strain a Puddin's ears at the meal table.'
'No harm intended, Albert,' said Sam, 'I was merely remarking how well the crops are looking. Call him Albert when addressing him,' he added to Bunyip Bluegum. 'It soothes him.'
'I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Albert,' said Bunyip.
'No soft soap from total strangers,' said the Puddin', rudely.
'Don't take no notice of him, mate,' said Bill. 'That's only his rough and ready way. What this Puddin' requires is politeness and constant eatin'.'
They had a delightful meal, eating as much as possible, for whenever they stopped eating the Puddin' sang out—
Never leave the table till you're full up to the muzzle.'
[Pg 18]
But at length they had to stop, in spite of these encouraging remarks, and, as they refused to eat any more, the Puddin' got out of his basin, remarking—'If you won't eat any more here's giving you a run for the sake of exercise', and he set off so swiftly on a pair of extremely thin legs that Bill had to run like an antelope to catch him up.
'My word,' said Bill, when the Puddin' was brought back. 'You have to be as smart as paint to keep this Puddin' in order. He's that artful, lawyers couldn't manage him. Put your hat on, Albert, like a little gentleman,' he added, placing the basin on his head. He took the Puddin's hand, Sam took the other, and they all set off along the road. A peculiar thing about the Puddin' was that, though they had all had a great
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