Mr. Munchausen <br />Being a True Account of Some of the Recent Adventures beyond the Styx of the L by John Kendrick Bangs (microsoft ebook reader .TXT) 📖

“Out of what appeared to be a clear sky came the most extraordinary rain storm you ever saw.” Chapter VI.

“The rain washed away several acres of finely cultivated farms, but the losses on crops and fences and so forth were largely reduced by the fish that came with the storm. One farmer took a rake and caught three hundred pounds of trout, forty pounds of sun-fish, eight turtles, and a minnow in his potato patch in five minutes. Others were almost as fortunate, but the damage was sufficiently large to teach me that parents cannot be too careful about what they let their children do on the day they celebrate.”

“And weren’t you ever punished?” asked the Twins.

“No, indeed,” said the Baron. “Nobody ever knew that I did it because I never told them. In fact you are the only two persons who ever heard about it, and you mustn’t tell, because there are still a number of farmers around that region who would sue me for damages in case they knew that I was responsible for the accident.”

 “That was pretty awful,” said the Twins. “But we don’t want to blow up ponds so as to get cascadeses, but we do want torpeters. Torpeters aren’t any harm, are they, Uncle Munch?”

“Well, you can never tell. It all depends on the torpedo. Torpedoes are sometimes made carelessly,” said the Baron. “They ought to be made as carefully as a druggist makes pills. So many pebbles, so much paper, and so much saltpeter and sulphur, or whatever else is used to make them go off. I had a very unhappy time once with a carelessly made torpedo. I had two boxes full. They were those tin-foil torpedoes that little girls are so fond of, and I expected they would make quite a lot of noise, but the first ten I threw down didn’t go off at all. The eleventh for some reason or other, I never knew exactly what, I hurled with all my force against the side of my father’s barn, and my, what a surprise it was! It smashed in the whole side of the barn and sent seven bales of hay, and our big farm plough bounding down the hillside into the town. The hay-bales smashed down fences; one of them hit a cow-shed on its way down,  knocked the back of it to smithereens and then proceeded to demolish the rear end of a small crockery shop that fronted on the main street. It struck the crockery shop square in the middle of its back and threw down fifteen dozen cups and saucers, thirty-two water pitchers, and five china busts of Shakespeare. The din was frightful—but I couldn’t help that. Nobody could blame me, because I had no means of knowing that the man who made the torpedoes was careless and had put a solid ball of dynamite into one of them. So you see, my dear Imps, that even torpedoes are not always safe.”

“Yes,” said Angelica. “I guess I’ll play with my dolls on my birthday. They never goes off and blows things up.”

“That’s very wise of you,” said the Baron.

“But what became of the plough, Uncle Munch?” said Diavolo.

“Oh, the plough didn’t do much damage,” replied Mr. Munchausen. “It simply furrowed its way down the hill, across the main street, to the bowling green. It ploughed up about one hundred feet of  this before it stopped, but nobody minded that much because it was to have been ploughed and seeded again anyhow within a few days. Of course the furrow it made in crossing the road was bad, and to make it worse the share caught one of the water pipes that ran under the street, and ripped it in two so that the water burst out and flooded the street for a while, but one hundred and sixty thousand dollars would have covered the damage.”

The Twins were silent for a few moments and then they asked:

“Well, Uncle Munch, what kind of fire-works are safe anyhow?”

“My experience has taught me that there are only two kinds that are safe,” replied their old friend. “One is a Jack-o-lantern and the other is a cigar, and as you are not old enough to have cigars, if you will put on your hats and coats and go down into the garden and get me two pumpkins, I’ll make each of you a Jack-o’-lantern. What do you say?”

“We say yes,” said the Twins, and off they went,  while the Baron turning over in the hammock, and arranging a pillow comfortably under his head, went to sleep to dream of more birthday recollections in case there should be a demand for them later on.