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* * * * *




[Illustration: THE WALLYPUG IN LONDON
By G. E. FARROW.]




THE WALLYPUG IN LONDON




[Illustration: HIS MAJESTY ARRIVES AT WINDSOR. SEE PAGE 143]




THE
WALLYPUG IN LONDON

BY
G. E. FARROW
AUTHOR OF "THE WALLYPUG OF WHY," "THE MISSING PRINCE," ETC


ILLUSTRATED BY ALAN WRIGHT


METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET, W.C.
LONDON
1898




CONTENTS

CHANT ROYAL
PREFACE
I HIS MAJESTY AND SUITE ARRIVE
II THE NEXT DAY'S ADVENTURES
III SUNDRY SMALL HAPPENINGS
IV LOST
V AN 'AT HOME' AND THE ACADEMY
VI THE JUBILEE
VII MORE ADVENTURES
VIII HIS MAJESTY IS INTERVIEWED
IX THE WALLYPUG'S OWN
X THE WALLYPUG GOES TO WINDSOR
XI HIS MAJESTY AT THE SEASIDE
XII THE DEPARTURE




CHANT ROYAL

ADDRESSED TO

HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA

IN COMMEMORATION OF 22ND JUNE, 1897


VICTORIA! by grace of God our Queen,
To thee thy children truest homage pay.
Thy children! ay, for Mother thou hast been,
And by a mother's love thou holdest sway.
Thy greatest empire is thy Nation's heart,
And thou hast chosen this the better part.
Behold, an off'ring meet thy people bring;
Hark! to the mighty world-sound gathering
From shore to shore, and echoing o'er the sea,
Attend! ye Nations while our paeans ring--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.

The grandest sight the world hath ever seen
Thy kingdom offers. Clothed in fair array,
The Majesty of Love and Peace serene,
While hosts unnumbered loyalty display,
Striving to show, by every loving art,
The day for them can have no counterpart.
Lo! sixty years of joy and sorrowing
For Queen and People, either borrowing
From other sympathy, in woe or glee,
Hath knit their hearts to thine, wherefore they sing--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.

With royal dignity and gracious mien
Thine high position thou hast graced alway;
No cloud of discord e'er hath come between
Thy nation and thyself; the fierce white ray
That beats upon thy throne bids hence depart
The faintest slander calumny can dart.
Thy fame is dear alike to churl and king,
And highest honour lies in honouring
The Sovereign to whom we bend the knee;
"God save the Queen," one strain unvarying--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.

What prophet, or what seer, with vision keen,
Reading the message of a far-off day,
The wonders of thy reign could have foreseen,
Or known the story that shall last for aye?
A page that History shall set apart;
Peace and Prosperity in port and mart,
Honour abroad, and on resistless wing
A steady progress ever-conquering.
Thy glorious reign, our glorious theme shall be,
And gratitude in every heart upspring--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.

Behold, ye tyrants, and a lesson glean
How subjects may be governed. Lo! the way
A Woman teaches who doth ne'er demean
Her office high. Hark! how her people pray
For blessings on the head that doth impart
So wise a rule. For them no wrongs do smart,
No cruelties oppress, no insults sting,
Nor does a despot hand exaction wring;
Though governed, Britain's subjects still are free.
Gaze then--ye unwise rulers wondering--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.

ENVOY.

Queen Mother, love of thee doth ever spring
Within thy children's hearts, a priceless thing,
Nor pomp nor state that falleth unto thee
Can ever rival this grand carolling--
Victoria's children sing her Jubilee.

G. E. FARROW




[Illustration: PREFACE]


MY DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS,

You will no doubt be surprised to find this book commencing with a
perfectly serious poem, and one which probably some of you will find
a little difficulty in understanding. When you have grown older,
however, and happen to look at this little book again, you will be
glad to be reminded of the historic event which the poem commemorates.
Now, about ourselves, when I asked in my last book, _The Missing
Prince_, for letters from my little readers, I had no idea that I had
so many young friends, and I can hardly tell you how delighted I have
been at receiving such a number of kind letters from all parts of the
world.

I do hope that I have answered everyone, but really there have been so
many, and if by mistake any should have been overlooked, I hope my
little correspondents will write again and give me an opportunity of
repairing the omission.

Such charming little letters, and all, I am happy to find, really
written by the children themselves, which makes them doubly valuable
to me.

And how funny and amusing some of them were to be sure! And what
capital stories some of you have told me about your pets.

Some pathetic incidents too; as, for instance, that of 'Shellyback,'
the tortoise, whose little owner wrote a few months after her first
letter to say that poor 'Shellyback' was dead.

I have been very happy to notice how fond you all seem of your pets,
for I have always found that children who make friends with animals
invariably have kind and good hearts. And the poor dumb creatures
themselves are always so ready to respond to any little act of
kindness, and are so grateful and affectionate, that I am sure it adds
greatly to one's happiness in life to interest oneself in them.

One of my correspondents, aged eight, has embarrassed me very much
indeed by suggesting that I should "wait for her till she grows up,"
as she should "so like to marry a gentleman who told stories." I hope
she didn't mean that I did anything so disgraceful; and besides, as it
would take nearly twenty-five years for her to catch up to me, she
_might_ change her mind in that time, and then what would become of
me.

Some of my letters from abroad have been very interesting. One dear
little girl at Darjeeling, in India, wrote a very nice descriptive
letter, and concluded by asking me to write "something about the
stars," and speaking of new stories brings me to another subject that
I wish to talk to you about.

You know that I spoke in my last book about writing a school story,
and one about animals. Well, when I found that so many of you wanted
to hear "more about the Wallypug," I was obliged to put these two
books aside in order to gratify your wishes. I hope that you will be
as interested in hearing about his Majesty this time as you were last.

You will be sure to notice that the pictures are by another artist,
but Mr. Harry Furniss has been away from England for some months, and
so it has been impossible for him to illustrate this volume. Some
other time, perhaps, Dorothy and he will give us more of their work;
but in the meantime Mr. Alan Wright has been very interested in
drawing pictures for this book, and I hope you will be pleased with
his efforts.

Now, about writing to me next time. When I asked you to address me
under care of my publishers, I did not realize that in the course of
business I might find it necessary to change them sometimes, and so to
avoid any possibility of confusion, will you please in future address
all letters to

MR. G. E. FARROW,
c/o Messrs. A. P. WATT & SON,
Hastings House,
Norfolk Street, Strand.

What am I to do with all the beautiful Christmas and New Year's cards
which I have received? Will you be vexed if, after having enjoyed
receiving them as I have done so much, I give them to the poor little
children at the hospitals to make scrap books with? I happen to know
how much they value and appreciate gifts of this kind, and by allowing
me to bestow them in this way, your pretty presents will be giving a
double happiness.

Well, I must conclude this rather long letter now, or I shall be
accused of being tedious; but really it gives me almost as much
pleasure to write to you, as it does to receive your letters.
Good-bye. Don't forget that many of you have promised to write to me
again, and that I am always more than glad to welcome any new friends.

Believe me, dear Children,
Yours affectionately,
G. E. FARROW




[Illustration: The Wallypug in London.]

CHAPTER I

HIS MAJESTY AND SUITE ARRIVE


A most extraordinary thing has happened; the Wallypug has been to
London! But there, I am forgetting that possibly you have never read
_The Wallypug of Why_, in which case you will, of course, know nothing
about his Majesty, and so I had better explain to you who, and what,
he is.

To begin with, then, he is a kind of king of a place called Why, which
adjoins the mysterious kingdom of Zum. I am afraid, though, that if
you searched your atlases for a very long while you might not find
either of these places, for the geographers are so undecided as to
their exact position that they have not shown them on the maps at all.
Some little friends of mine, named Girlie and Boy, have been there,
however, and I can tell you, if you like, the way they went. This is
the way to Why:

Just go to bed and shut your eyes
And count one hundred, one by one;
Perhaps you'll find to your surprise
That you're at Why when this is done.

I say _perhaps_, because this only happens when you have been
particularly good all day, and _sometimes_ boys and girls are not
quite as good as they--but there, I won't say what I was going to, for
I am quite sure that it would not apply to you. This is the way to
Zum:

Not when the moon is at its full,
But just a tiny boat-shaped thing,
You _may_ see Pierrot sitting there
And hear the little fellow sing.
If so, just call him, and he'll come
And carry you away to Zum.

There, now, I've told you the way to go to both places, so that, if
you wish to, you can go there whenever you please.

I am telling you all this because one day in the spring Girlie and
Boy, who live in another part of London, came to see me, and we had
been talking about these things for about the hundredth time, I should
think: for these children are never tired of telling me of all the
strange things which happened to them when they journey to these
wonderful places.



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