No More Learning

"

"Who's the Knight-Mayor? " I cried. Instead
Of answering my question,
"Well! If you don't know _that_," he said,
"Either you never go to bed,
Or you've a grand digestion!

"He goes about and sits on folk
That eat too much at night:
His duties are to pinch, and poke,
And squeeze them till they nearly choke. "
(I said "It serves them right! ")

"And folk that sup on things like these--"
He muttered, "eggs and bacon--
Lobster--and duck--and toasted cheese--
If they don't get an awful squeeze,
I'm very much mistaken!

"He is immensely fat, and so
Well suits the occupation:
In point of fact, if you must know,
We used to call him, years ago,
_The Mayor and Corporation_!

[Illustration: "HE GOES ABOUT AND SITS ON FOLK"]

"The day he was elected Mayor
I _know_ that every Sprite meant
To vote for _me_, but did not dare--
He was so frantic with despair
And furious with excitement.

[Illustration]

"When it was over, for a whim,
He ran to tell the King;
And being the reverse of slim,
A two-mile trot was not for him
A very easy thing.

"So, to reward him for his run
(As it was baking hot,
And he was over twenty stone),
The King proceeded, half in fun,
To knight him on the spot. "

"'Twas a great liberty to take! "
(I fired up like a rocket).
"He did it just for punning's sake:
'The man,' says Johnson, 'that would make
A pun, would pick a pocket! '"

"A man," said he, "is not a King.
"
I argued for a while,
And did my best to prove the thing--
The Phantom merely listening
With a contemptuous smile.

At last, when, breath and patience spent,
I had recourse to smoking--
"Your _aim_," he said, "is excellent:
But--when you call it _argument_--
Of course you're only joking? "

[Illustration]

Stung by his cold and snaky eye,
I roused myself at length
To say "At least I do defy
The veriest sceptic to deny
That union is strength! "

"That's true enough," said he, "yet stay--"
I listened in all meekness--
"_Union_ is strength, I'm bound to say;
In fact, the thing's as clear as day;
But _onions_--are a weakness. "


CANTO VI.

Dyscomfyture.

As one who strives a hill to climb,
Who never climbed before:
Who finds it, in a little time,
Grow every moment less sublime,
And votes the thing a bore:

Yet, having once begun to try,
Dares not desert his quest,
But, climbing, ever keeps his eye
On one small hut against the sky,
Wherein he hopes to rest:

Who climbs till nerve and force are spent,
With many a puff and pant:
Who still, as rises the ascent,
In language grows more violent,
Although in breath more scant:

[Illustration]

Who, climbing, gains at length the place
That crowns the upward track;
And, entering with unsteady pace,
Receives a buffet in the face
That lands him on his back:

And feels himself, like one in sleep,
Glide swiftly down again,
A helpless weight, from steep to steep,
Till, with a headlong giddy sweep,
He drops upon the plain--

So I, that had resolved to bring
Conviction to a ghost,
And found it quite a different thing
From any human arguing,
Yet dared not quit my post

But, keeping still the end in view
To which I hoped to come,
I strove to prove the matter true
By putting everything I knew
Into an axiom:

Commencing every single phrase
With 'therefore' or 'because,'
I blindly reeled, a hundred ways,
About the syllogistic maze,
Unconscious where I was.

Quoth he "That's regular clap-trap:
Don't bluster any more.
Now _do_ be cool and take a nap!
Such a ridiculous old chap
Was never seen before!

"You're like a man I used to meet,
Who got one day so furious
In arguing, the simple heat
Scorched both his slippers off his feet! "
I said "_That's very curious! _"

[Illustration: "SCORCHED BOTH HIS SLIPPERS OFF HIS FEET"]

"Well, it _is_ curious, I agree,
And sounds perhaps like fibs:
But still it's true as true can be--
As sure as your name's Tibbs," said he.
I said "My name's _not_ Tibbs. "

"_Not_ Tibbs! " he cried--his tone became
A shade or two less hearty--
"Why, no," said I.