The Baron de B.-W.
BLIND ALLEY-GORIES.
By Dunno Währiar.
(Translated from the original Lappish by Mr. Punch's own Hyperborean Enthusiast.)
No. III.—A Socratic Experiment.
The other day I went out for a walk. My thoughts circled round my head like bees in a bonnet, and detached themselves slowly from the loose white honeycomb of my brain to mirror themselves in my soul, as is usual with me on such occasions. And, somewhere round the corner, a voice lurked calling out remarks—what I knew not, only that they were of a highly personal character. The people I met stared at me, and I stared at them, for I had a presentiment that they were talking about me, but I took no notice of them—beyond informing them that they were cowards and blowflies, and requesting to be informed why they enclosed their dirty interiors in glass. For I am Young Garnaway, and when I take a walk, I generally exchange amenities of this kind with any persons I happen to meet.
At the Market Place, my friend the Tallow-chandler sat inside his shop, dozing under a pale canopy of farthing dips.
"Answer me a question," I begged of him. "Why does one yearn for the top brick off the chimney when one is a child, and yet feel dissatisfied when, as a man, one receives it on the top of one's Sunday tile? Why does the sea bird fly inland in winter to get food from the towns—only to turn up its beak when presented with a ticket for soup? Why do we——?"