The Magic Pudding. Norman Lindsay

in the hurry of leaving home, he had 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 stick to walk with.

       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.

      '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 —

      'Onions, bunions, corns and crabs,

       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 sugared, politeness be hanged,

       Politeness be jumbled and tumbled and banged.

       It's simply a matter of putting on pace,

       Politeness has nothing to do with the case.'

      '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 —

      'Eat away, chew away, munch and bolt and guzzle,

       Never leave the table till you're full up to the muzzle.'

      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 many slices off him, there was no sign of the place whence the slices had been cut.

      'That's where the Magic comes in,' explained Bill. 'The more you eats the more you gets. Cut-an'-come-again is his name, an' cut, an' come again, is his nature. Me an' Sam has been eatin' away at this Puddin' for years, and there's not a mark on him. Perhaps,' he added, 'you would like to hear how we came to own this remarkable Puddin'.'

      'Nothing would please me more,' said Bunyip Bluegum.

      'In that case,' said Bill, 'let her go for a song.'

      'Ho, the cook of the Saucy Sausage, Was a feller called Curry and Rice, A son of a gun as fat as a tun With a face as round as a hot-cross bun, Or a barrel, to be precise.

      'One winter's morn we rounds the Horn,

       A-rollin' homeward bound.

       We strikes on the ice, goes down in a trice,

       And all on board but Curry and Rice

       And me an' Sam is drowned.

      'For Sam an' me an' the cook, yer see,

       We climbs on a lump of ice,

       And there in the sleet we suffered a treat

       For several months from frozen feet,

       With nothin' at all but ice to eat,

       And ice does not suffice.

      'And Sam and me we couldn't agree

       With the cook at any price.