Again was the little fellow doomed to disappointment. All the information contained in this envelope related to the killing of potato-bugs, and the best way to keep mosquitos from biting.
"This is the worst failure of a bureau of information I ever saw, or else I don't know how to manage it," he said. "Suppose you try it, Jimmieboy. You may have better luck."
Jimmieboy dropped the reins and alighted from the carriage. Walking to the bureau he opened the second drawer and found it full of books. They were very handsome books on the outside, and if one could judge from their titles they were attractive inside too. One of them, for instance, was named The Porpoise of the Mediterranean, or A Minnow's Adventures on the Coast of Africa. Another was labelled Poems of A. Swordfish. Another was called Jellyfish Jingles, a title which so interested Jimmieboy that he opened it and read some of them. In a minute he threw his head back and laughed loudly, opening his mouth as widely as possible in his mirth. He was so amused that he couldn't keep his lips closed.
"Listen to this," he said; "it's called 'The Unfortunate Tale of the Polliwog:'
"The small sea-toad he climbed a tree
One windy summer's day,
And through the water chanced to see
A pollywog grown gray;
Whereat he cried, 'Oh, Pollywog,
Come tell me, sir, I pray,
How is it you are not a frog
And yet have grown so gray?'
"'Because,' the Pollywog replied,
His visage turning pale;
'Because,' and here he deeply sighed,
And sadly wagged his tail;
'Because,' he added, as the tide
Grew wavy in the gale;
'Because I shed but tears; I've tried
But cannot shed my tail.'"
"That's pretty good," said the Merboy, with a smile, noticing with a great deal of relief that Jimmieboy had at last opened his mouth. "Are there any more?" he added, just to see if Jimmieboy's cure were final.
"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "Here's one about 'A Sad Sea-Dog.'
"Oh, the sad sea-dog he has no fin,
And he never moves, they say.
He sits as still as a piece of tin,
And he's never known to smile or grin,
Or to wipe his tears away.
"His chief delight is to bark and growl,
And to yelp and screech and snap;
He does not mind if the wild winds howl,
He never will stir for fish or fowl,
And cares not what may hap.
"He shakes his flippers and wags his jaws,
Delights in the awful gale,
He breaks each one of the ocean's laws,
And no one lives that can make him pause,
From sharks to the mammoth whale.
"And it's all because a fisherman—
A man with a great green eye—
Mistook him once for his black-and-tan,
And whistled to him, and called him 'Fan,'
In the days long since gone by.
"When a sea-dog's name is Anthony
Montgomery Varian,
'Tis apt to sour his spirit to be
Miscalled as upon that day was he
By a mean land name like Fan!"
"I should think so," said the Goldfish. "It's like being christened Algernon at church and being known as Petie in school."
"I don't wonder he sulked," said Jimmieboy.