 How the whale got his throat. In the sea, once upon a time, all my best beloved, there was a whale, and he ate fishes. He ate the starfish, and the garfish, and the crab, and the dab, and the place, and the dace, and the skate, and his mate, and the mackerel, and the pickerel, and the really, truly, twirly, whirly eel. All the fishes he could find in all the sea he ate with his mouth. So, till at last there was only one small fish left in all the sea, and he was a small stoot fish, and he swam a little way behind the whale's right ear, so as to be out of harm's way. Then the whale stood up on his tail, and said, I'm hungry, and the small stoot fish said in a small stoot voice, noble and generous cetacean, have you ever tasted man? No, said the whale, what is it like? Nice, said the small stoot fish, nice, but nubbly. Then fetch me some, said the whale, and he made the sea froth up with his tail. One at a time is enough, said the stoot fish. If you swim to latitude fifty north, longitude forty west, that is magic, you will find sitting on a raft in the middle of the sea with nothing on but a pair of blue canvas breeches, a pair of suspenders, you must not forget the suspenders best beloved, and a jackknife, one shipwrecked mariner, who, it is only fair to tell you, is a man of infinite resource and sagacity. So the whale swam and swam to latitude fifty north, longitude forty west, as fast as he could swim, and on a raft in the middle of the sea, with nothing to wear except a pair of blue canvas breeches, a pair of suspenders, you must particularly remember the suspenders best beloved, and a jackknife, he found one single solitary shipwrecked mariner trailing his toes in the water. He had his mummies leave to paddle, or else he would never have done it, because he was a man of infinite resource and sagacity. Then the whale opened his mouth back and back and back till it nearly touched his tail, and he swallowed the shipwrecked mariner and the raft he was sitting on, and his blue canvas breeches and the suspenders, which you must not forget, and the jackknife. He swallowed them all down into his warm dark inside cupboards, and then he smacked his lips, so, and turned round three times on his tail. But as soon as the mariner, who was a man of infinite resource and sagacity, found himself truly inside the whale's warm dark inside cupboards, he stumped and he jumped, and he stumped and he bumped, and he pranced and he danced, and he banged and he clanged, and he hit and he bit, and he leaped and he creeped, and he prowled and he howled, and he hopped and he dropped, and he cried and he sighed, and he crawled and he bawled, and he stepped and he lept, and he danced hornpipes where he shouldn't, and the whale felt most unhappy indeed. Have you forgotten the suspenders? So he said to the stootfish, this man is very nubbly and besides he is making me hiccup, what shall I do? Tell him to come out, said the stootfish. So the whale called down his own throat to the shipwrecked mariner. Come out and behave yourself, I've got the hiccups. Nay, nay, said the mariner, not so but far otherwise, take me to my natal shore and the white cliffs of Albion, and I'll think about it. And he began to dance more than ever. You had better take him home, said the stootfish to the whale. I ought to have warned you that he is a man of infinite resource and sagacity. So the whale swam and swam and swam, with both flippers and his tail, as hard as he could for the hiccups, and at last he saw the mariner's natal shore and the white cliffs of Albion, and he rushed half way up the beach and opened his mouth wide and wide and wide and said, Change here for Winchester, Ashulot, Nashua Keen, and stations on the Fitchburg Road. And just as he said Fitch, the mariner walked out of his mouth. But while the whale had been swimming, the mariner, who was indeed a person of infinite resource and sagacity, had taken his jackknife and cut up the raft into a little square grating all running crisscross, and he had tied it firm with his suspenders. Now you know why you were not to forget the suspenders, and he dragged that grating good and tight into the whale's throat, and there it stuck. Then he recited the following sloka, which, as you have not heard it, I will now proceed to relate. By means of a grating, I have stopped your ating. For the mariner was also an hibernian, and he stepped out on the shingle and went home to his mother, who had given him leave to trail his toes in the water, and he married and lived happily ever afterward. So did the whale, but from that day on the grating in his throat, which he could neither cough up nor swallow down, prevented him eating anything except very, very small fish, and that is the reason why whales nowadays never eat men or boys or little girls. The small stoot fish went and hid himself in the mud under the door sills of the equator. He was afraid that the whale might be angry with him. The sailor took the jackknife home. He was wearing the blue canvas breeches when he walked out on the shingle. The suspenders were left behind, you see, to tie the grating with, and that is the end of that tale. When the cabin-port holes are dark and green because of the seas outside, when the ship goes whoop with a wiggle between, and the steward falls into the soup touring, and the trunks begin to slide. When Nersi lies on the floor in a heap, and Mummy tells you to let her sleep, and you aren't waked or washed or dressed, why then you will know if you haven't guessed. You are fifty north and forty west. End of How the Whale Got His Throat. Read by Kara Schellenberg on May 22nd, 2007, in Oceanside, California. How the camel got his hump. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, this reading by Kara Schellenberg. The Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling. How the camel got his hump. Now, this is the next tale, and it tells how the camel got his big hump. In the beginning of years, when the world was so new and all, and the animals were just beginning to work for man, there was a camel, and he lived in the middle of a howling desert because he did not want to work, and besides, he was a howler himself. So he ate sticks and thorns and tamarisks, and milkweed and prickles, most scruciating idle, and when anybody spoke to him, he said, Humpf. Just Humpf. And no more. Presently the horse came to him on Monday morning with a saddle on his back and a bit in his mouth, and said, camel, o camel, come out and trot like the rest of us. Humpf, said the camel, and the horse went away and told the man. Presently the dog came to him with a stick in his mouth and said, camel, o camel, come and fetch and carry like the rest of us. Humpf, said the camel, and the dog went away and told the man. Presently the ox came to him with a yoke on his neck and said, camel, o camel, come and plow like the rest of us. Humpf, said the camel, and the ox went away and told the man. At the end of the day the man called the horse and the dog and the ox together and said, Three, oh, three, I'm very sorry for you, with the world so new and all, but that humpf thing in the desert can't work, or he would have been here by now. So I am going to leave him alone, and you must work double time to make up for it. That made the three very angry with the world so new and all, and they held a palaver, and an indaba, and a punchayat, and a powwow on the edge of the desert, and the camel came chewing on milkweed, most scruciating idle, and laughed at them. Then he said, humpf, and went away again. Presently there came along the jinn in charge of all deserts, rolling in a cloud of dust. Jinn's always travel that way because it is magic, and he stopped to a palaver and powwow with the three. Jinn of all deserts, said the horse, is it right for anyone to be idle, with the world so new and all? Certainly not, said the jinn. Well, said the horse, there's a thing in the middle of your howling desert, and he's a howler himself, with a long neck and long legs, and he hasn't done a stroke of work since Monday morning. He won't trot. Phew! said the jinn, whistling, that's my camel, for all the gold in Arabia. What does he say about it? He says, humpf, said the dog, and he won't fetch and carry. Does he say anything else? Only humpf, and he won't plow, said the ox. Very good, said the jinn, I'll humpf him if you will kindly wait a minute. The jinn rolled himself up in his dust-cloak and took a bearing across the desert and found the camel most scruciatingly idle, looking at his own reflection in a pool of water. My long and bubbling friend, said the jinn, what's this I hear of your doing no work, with the world so new and all? Humpf, said the camel. The jinn sat down with his chin in his hand and began to think a great magic, while the camel looked at his own reflection in the pool of water. You've given the three extra work ever since Monday morning, all on account of your scruciating idleness, said the jinn, and he went on thinking magics with his chin in his hand. Humpf, said the camel. I shouldn't say that again if I were you, said the jinn. You might say it once too often. Bubbles, I want you to work. And the camel said humpf again, but no sooner had he said it than he saw his back that he was so proud of, puffing up and puffing up into a great, big, lolliping humpf. Do you see that, said the jinn, that's your very own humpf that you've brought upon your very own self by not working. Today is Thursday, and you've done no work since Monday when the work began. Now you are going to work. How can I, said the camel, with this humpf on my back? That's made a purpose, said the jinn, all because you missed those three days. You will be able to work now for three days without eating, because you can live on your humpf. And don't you ever say I never did anything for you? Come out of the desert, and go to the three, and behave, humpf yourself. And the camel humpfed himself, humpf and all, and went away to join the three. And from that day to this, the camel always wears a humpf. We call it a humpf now, not to hurt his feelings. But he has never yet caught up with the three days that he missed at the beginning of the world. And he has never yet learned how to behave. The camel's hump is an ugly lump, which, well, you may see at the zoo, but uglier yet is the hump we get from having too little to do. Kitties and grown-ups, too, if we haven't enough to do, we get the hump, chameleous hump, the hump that is black and blue. We climb out of bed with a frowsily head and a snarly, yarly voice. We shiver and scowl and we grunt and we growl at our bath and our boots and our toys. And there ought to be a corner for me, and I know there is one for you, when we get the hump, chameleous hump, the hump that is black and blue. The cure for this ill is not to sit still or froust with a book by the fire, but to take a large hoe and a shovel also and dig till you gently perspire. And then you will find that the sun and the wind and the gin of the garden, too, have lifted the hump, the horrible hump, the hump that is black and blue. I get it as well as you, if I haven't enough to do. We all get hump, chameleous hump, kitties and grown-ups, too. End of How the Camel Got His Hump, read by Kara Schellenberg on May 22, 2007, in Oceanside, California. How the rhinoceros got his skin. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, this reading by Kara Schellenberg. The Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling. How the Rhinoceros Got His Skin Once upon a time, on an uninhabited island on the shores of the Red Sea, there lived a Parsi from whose hat the rays of the sun were reflected in more than oriental splendor. And the Parsi lived by the Red Sea with nothing but his hat and his knife, and a cooking-stove of the kind that you must particularly never touch. And one day he took flour and water and currants and plums and sugar and things, and made himself one cake which was two feet across and three feet thick. It was indeed a superior commestible—that's magic—and he put it on the stove because he was allowed to cook on the stove, and he baked it, and he baked it till it was all done brown and smelt most sentimental. But just as he was going to eat it there came down to the beach, from the altogether uninhabited interior, one rhinoceros, with a horn on his nose, two piggy eyes, and few manners. In those days the rhinoceros' skin fitted him quite tight. There were no wrinkles in it anywhere. He looked exactly like a Noah's Ark rhinoceros, but of course much bigger. All the same he had no manners then, and he has no manners now, and he never will have any manners. He said, How! And the Parsi left that cake and climbed to the top of a palm tree, with nothing on but his hat, from which the rays of the sun were always reflected in more than Oriental splendor. And the rhinoceros upset the oil stove with his nose, and the cake rolled on the sand, and he spiked that cake on the horn of his nose, and he ate it, and he went away, waving his tail to the desolate and exclusively uninhabited interior which abuts on the islands of Mazandaran, Sokotra, and promontories of the larger equinox. Then the Parsi came down from his palm tree and put the stove on its legs, and recited the following sloka which, as you have not heard, I will now proceed to relate. Them that takes cakes which the Parsi man bakes makes dreadful mistakes. And there was a great deal more in that than you would think, because five weeks later there was a heat wave in the Red Sea, and everybody took off all the clothes they had. The Parsi took off his hat, but the rhinoceros took off his skin and carried it over his shoulder as he came down to the beach to bathe. In those days it buttoned underneath with three buttons and looked like a waterproof. He said nothing whatever about the Parsi's cake because he had eaten it all, and he never had any manners, then, since, or henceforward. He waddled straight into the water and blew bubbles through his nose, leaving his skin on the beach. Presently the Parsi came by and found the skin, and he smiled one smile that ran all round his face two times. Then he danced three times round the skin and rubbed his hands. Then he went to his camp and filled his hat with cake crumbs, for the Parsi never ate anything but cake, and never swept out his camp. He took that skin and he shook that skin, and he scrubbed that skin and he rubbed that skin just as full of old dry stale tickly cake crumbs and some burned currents as ever it could possibly hold. Then he climbed to the top of his palm tree and waited for the rhinoceros to come out of the water and put it on. And the rhinoceros did. He buttoned it up with the three buttons, and it tickled like cake crumbs in bed. Then he wanted to scratch, but that made it worse, and then he lay down on the sands and rolled and rolled and rolled, and every time he rolled the cake crumbs tickled him worse and worse and worse. Then he ran to the palm tree and rubbed and rubbed and rubbed himself against it. He rubbed so much and so hard that he rubbed his skin into a great fold over his shoulders and another fold underneath where the buttons used to be. But he rubbed the buttons off, and he rubbed some more folds over his legs and it spoiled his temper, but it didn't make the least difference to the cake crumbs. They were inside his skin and they tickled. So he went home very angry indeed and horribly scratchy, and from that day to this every rhinoceros has great folds in his skin and a very bad temper, all on account of the cake crumbs inside. But the parsee came down from his palm tree, wearing his hat, from which the rays of the sun were reflected in more than oriental splendor, packed up his cooking stove and went away in the direction of Orotavo, Amigdala, the upland meadows of Anantarivo, and the marshes of Sonaput. This uninhabited island is off Cape Garda Fui by the beaches of Socotra and the pink Arabian Sea, but it's hot, too hot from Suez for the likes of you and me ever to go in a P&O and call on the cake parsee. End of How the Rhinoceros Got His Skin, read by Kara Schellenberg on May 22nd, 2007, in Oceanside, California. How the Leopard Got His Spots This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Kara Schellenberg. The Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling How the Leopard Got His Spots In the days when everybody started fair, best beloved, the Leopard lived in a place called the High Velt. Remember, it wasn't the Low Velt or the Bush Velt or the Sour Velt, but the exclusively bare, hot, shiny High Velt where there was sand and sandy colored rock and exclusively tufts of sandy yellowish grass. The Giraffe and the Zebra and the Eland and the Kudu and the Heartbeast lived there, and they were exclusively sandy yellow brownish all over, but the Leopard, he was the exclusivist, sandiest yellowish brownest of them all, a grayish-yellowish catty-shaped kind of beast, and he matched the exclusively yellowish-grayish brownish color of the High Velt to one hair. This was very bad for the Giraffe and the Zebra and the rest of them, for he would lie down by a exclusively yellowish-grayish brownish stone or clump of grass, and when the Giraffe or the Zebra or the Eland or the Kudu or the Bush Buck or the Bonta Buck came by, he would surprise them out of their jumpsome lives, he would indeed. And also there was an Ethiopian with bows and arrows, a exclusively grayish-brownish-yellowish man he was then, who lived on the High Velt with the Leopard, and the two used to hunt together, the Ethiopian with his bows and arrows, and the Leopard exclusively with his teeth and claws, till the Giraffe and the Eland and the Kudu and the Quagga and all the rest of them didn't know which way to jump, best beloved, they didn't indeed. After a long time, things lived forever so long in those days, they learned to avoid anything that looked like a Leopard or an Ethiopian, and bit by bit, the Giraffe began it because his legs were the longest, they went away from the High Velt. They scuttled for days and days and days till they came to a great forest, exclusively full of trees and bushes and stripey-speckly patchy-blatchy shadows, and there they hid, and after another long time whatwithstanding half in the shade and half out of it, and whatwith the slippery slidey shadows of the trees falling on them, the Giraffe grew blotchy, and the Zebra grew stripey, and the Eland and the Kudu grew darker, with little wavy gray lines on their backs like bark on a tree-trunk, and so, though you could hear them and smell them, you could very seldom see them, and then only when you knew precisely where to look. They had a beautiful time in the exclusively speckly-speckly shadows of the forest, while the Leopard and the Ethiopian ran about over the exclusively grayish-yellowish-reddish High Velt outside, wondering where all their breakfasts and their dinners and their teas had gone. At last they were so hungry that they ate rats and beetles and rock rabbits, the Leopard and the Ethiopian, and then they had the big tummy ache, both together, and then they met Bavian, the dog-headed barking baboon, who is quite the wisest animal in all South Africa. Said Leopard to Bavian, and it was a very hot day. Where has all the game gone? And Bavian winked. He knew. Said the Ethiopian to Bavian. Can you tell me the present habitat of the Aboriginal fauna? That meant just the same thing, but the Ethiopian always used long words. He was a grown-up. And Bavian winked. He knew. Then said Bavian. The game has gone into other spots, and my advice to you, Leopard, is to go into other spots as soon as you can. And the Ethiopian said, That is all very fine, but I wish to know whether the Aboriginal fauna has migrated. Then said Bavian. The Aboriginal fauna has joined the Aboriginal flora because it was high time for a change, and my advice to you, Ethiopian, is to change as soon as you can. That puzzled the Leopard and the Ethiopian, but they set off to look for the Aboriginal flora, and presently after ever so many days they saw a great high tall forest full of tree trunks all exclusively speckled and sprottled and sprottled, dotted and splashed and slashed and hatched and cross-hatched with shadows. Say that quickly aloud, and you will see how very shadowy the forest must have been. What is this? said the Leopard, that is so exclusively dark and yet so full of little pieces of light. I don't know, said the Ethiopian, but it ought to be the Aboriginal flora. I can smell giraffe, and I can hear giraffe, but I can't see giraffe. That's curious, said the Leopard. I suppose it is because we have just come in out of the sunshine. I can smell zebra, and I can hear zebra, but I can't see zebra. Wait a bit, said the Ethiopian. It's a long time since we've hunted them. Perhaps we've forgotten what they were like. Fiddle, said the Leopard, I remember them perfectly on the high veld, especially their marow bones. Giraffe is about seventeen feet high, of exclusively fulvis golden yellow from head to heel, and zebra is about four and a half feet high, of exclusively gray fawn color from head to heel. Um, said the Ethiopian, looking into the speckly-speckly shadows of the Aboriginal flora forest. Then they ought to show up in this dark place, like ripe bananas in a smokehouse. But they didn't. The Leopard and the Ethiopian hunted all day, and though they could smell them and hear them, they never saw one of them. For goodness sake, said the Leopard at tea time, let us wait till it gets dark. This daylight hunting is a perfect scandal. So they waited till dark, and then the Leopard heard something breathing sniffily in the starlight that fell all stripy through the branches, and he jumped at the noise. And it smelt like zebra, and it felt like zebra, and when he knocked it down it kicked like zebra, but he couldn't see it. So he said, Be quiet, O you person, without any form. I am going to sit on your head till morning, because there is something about you that I don't understand. Presently he heard a grunt and a crash and a scramble, and the Ethiopian called out. I have caught a thing that I can't see. It smells like giraffe, and it kicks like giraffe, but it hasn't any form. Don't you trust it, said the Leopard. Sit on its head till the morning, same as me. They haven't any form, any of them. So they sat down on them hard till bright morning time, and then Leopard said, What have you at your end of the table, brother? The Ethiopian scratched his head and said, It ought to be exclusively a rich, fulvis orange tawny from head to heel, and it ought to be giraffe, but it is covered all over with chestnut blotches. What have you at your end of the table, brother? And the Leopard scratched his head and said, It ought to be exclusively a delicate grayish fawn, and it ought to be zebra, but it is covered all over with black and purple stripes. What in the world have you been doing to yourself, zebra? Don't you know that if you were on the high veld I could see you ten miles off? You haven't any form. Yes, said the zebra, but this isn't the high veld, can't you see? I can now, said the Leopard, but I couldn't all yesterday. How is it done? Let us up, said the zebra, and we will show you. They let the zebra and the giraffe get up, and zebra moved away to some little thorn bushes where the sunlight fell all stripy, and giraffe moved off to some tallish trees where the shadows fell all blotchy. Now watch, said the zebra and the giraffe. This is the way it's done. One, two, three. And where's your breakfast? Leopard stared, and Ethiopian stared, but all they could see were stripy shadows and blotched shadows in the forest, but never a sign of zebra and giraffe. They had just walked off and hidden themselves in the shadowy forest. High, high, said the Ethiopian. That's a trick worth learning. Take a lesson by it, Leopard. You show up in this dark place like a bar of soap in a coal-scuttle. Ho, ho, said the Leopard. Would it surprise you very much to know that you show up in this dark place like a mustard plaster on a sack of coals? Well, calling names won't catch dinner, said the Ethiopian. The long and the little of it is that we don't match our backgrounds. I am going to take Bavian's advice. He told me I ought to change, and as I have nothing to change except my skin, I'm going to change that. What, too, said the Leopard, tremendously excited. To a nice working blackish-brownish color with a little purple in it and touches of slaty blue, it will be the very thing for hiding in hollows and behind trees. So he changed his skin, then and there, and the Leopard was more excited than ever. He had never seen a man change his skin before. But what about me, he said, when the Ethiopian had worked his last little finger into his fine new black skin. You take Bavian's advice, too. He told you to go into spots. So I did, said the Leopard. I went into other spots as fast as I could. I went into this spot with you, and a lot of good it has done me. Oh, said the Ethiopian. Bavian didn't mean spots in South Africa. He meant spots on your skin. What's the use of that, said the Leopard? Think of giraffe, said the Ethiopian, or if you prefer stripes, think of zebra. They find their spots and stripes give them perfect satisfaction. Um, said the Leopard. I wouldn't look like zebra, not forever so. Well, make up your mind, said the Ethiopian, because I'd hate to go hunting without you, but I must if you insist on looking like a sunflower against a tarred fence. I'll take spots, then, said the Leopard, but don't make them too vulgar big. I wouldn't look like giraffe, not forever so. I'll make them with the tips of my fingers, said the Ethiopian. There's plenty of black left on my skin still. Stand over. Then the Ethiopian put his five fingers close together. There was plenty of black left on his new skin still, and pressed them all over the Leopard, and wherever the five fingers touched, they left five little black marks all close together. You can see them on any Leopard skin you like, best beloved. Sometimes the fingers slipped, and the marks got a little blurred, but if you look closely at any Leopard now, you will see that there are always five spots, off five fat black fingertips. Now you are a beauty, said the Ethiopian. You can lie out on the bare ground and look like a heap of pebbles. You can lie out on the naked rocks and look like a piece of pudding stone. You can lie out on a leafy branch and look like sunshine sifting through the leaves. You can lie right across the center of a path and look like nothing in particular. Think of that, and purr. But if I'm all this, said the Leopard, why didn't you go spotty too? Oh, plain blacks best for a nigger, said the Ethiopian. Now come along, and we'll see if we can't get even, with Mr. one, two, three, where's your breakfast? So they went away, and lived happily ever afterward, best beloved. That is all. Oh, now and then you will hear grown-ups say, Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the Leopard his spots? I don't think even grown-ups would keep on saying such a silly thing, if the Leopard and the Ethiopian hadn't done it once, do you? But they will never do it again, best beloved. They are quite contented as they are. I am the most wise Bavian, saying in most wise tones, Let us melt into the landscape, just us two by our loans. People have come, in a carriage, calling, but Mummy is there. Yes, I can go if you take me. Nurse says she don't care. Let's go up to the pigsties, and sit on the farmyard rails. Let's say things to the bunnies, and watch them skitter their tails. Let's, oh, anything, Daddy, so long as it's you and me, and going truly exploring, and not being in till tea. Here's your boots, I've brought them, and here's your cap and stick, and here's your pipe and tobacco, oh, come along out of it, quick. End of How the Leopard Got His Spots Read by Kara Schellenberg on May 23rd, 2007, in Oceanside, California. The Elephant's Child This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Kara Schellenberg. The Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling The Elephant's Child In the high and far off times, the elephant, oh, best beloved, had no trunk. He had only a blackish, bulgy nose, as big as a boot, that he could wriggle about from side to side, but he couldn't pick up things with it. But there was one elephant, a new elephant, an elephant's child, who was full of satiable curiosity, and that means he asked ever so many questions, and he lived in Africa and filled all Africa with his satiable curiosities. He asked his tall aunt the ostrich why her tail feathers grew just so, and his tall aunt the ostrich spanked him with her hard, hard claw. He asked his tall uncle the giraffe what made his skin spotty, and his tall uncle the giraffe spanked him with his hard, hard hoof, and still he was full of satiable curiosity. He asked his broad aunt the hippopotamus why her eyes were red, and his broad aunt the hippopotamus spanked him with her broad, broad hoof, and he asked his hairy uncle the baboon why melons tasted just so, and his hairy uncle the baboon spanked him with his hairy, hairy paw, and still he was full of satiable curiosity. He asked questions about everything that he saw or heard or felt or smelt or touched, and all his uncles and his aunts spanked him, and still he was full of satiable curiosity. One fine morning in the middle of the precession of the equinoxes, this satiable elephant's child asked a new fine question that he had never asked before. He asked, What does the crocodile have for dinner? Then everybody said, Hush! in a loud and dreadful tone, and they spanked him immediately and directly without stopping for a long time. By and by when that was finished he came upon Kolokolo bird, sitting in the middle of a wait-a-bit thorn bush, and he said, My father has spanked me and my mother has spanked me, all my aunts and uncles have spanked me for my satiable curiosity, and still I want to know what the crocodile has for dinner. Then Kolokolo bird said with a mournful cry, Go to the banks of the great grey-green greasy Limpopo river, all set about with fever-trees, and find out. That very next morning when there was nothing left of the equinoxes, because the precession had preceded according to precedent, this satiable elephant's child took a hundred pounds of bananas, the little short red kind, and a hundred pounds of sugar cane, the long purple kind, and seventeen melons, the greeny crackly kind, and said to all his dear families, Goodbye! I am going to the great grey-green greasy Limpopo river, all set about with fever-trees, to find out what the crocodile has for dinner. And they all spanked him once more for luck, though he asked them most politely to stop. Then he went away, a little warm, but not at all astonished, eating melons and throwing the rind about, because he could not pick it up. He went from Grahame's town to Kimberley, and from Kimberley to Kama's country, and from Kama's country he went east by north, eating melons all the time, till at last he came to the banks of the great grey-green greasy Limpopo river, all set about with fever-trees, precisely as Kolokolo bird had said. Now you must know and understand, O best beloved, that till that very weak and day and hour and minute this satiable elephant's child had never seen a crocodile, and did not know what one was like. It was all his satiable courteosity. The first thing that he found was a bi-colored python rock snake curled round a rock. Excuse me, said the elephant's child most politely, but have you seen such a thing as a crocodile in these promiscuous parts? Have I seen a crocodile, said the bi-colored python rock snake, in a voice of dreadful scorn? What will you ask me next? Excuse me, said the elephant's child, but could you kindly tell me what he has for dinner? Then the bi-colored python rock snake uncoiled himself very quickly from the rock, and spanked the elephant's child with his scalesome flailsome tail. That is odd, said the elephant's child, because my father and my mother and my uncle and my aunt not to mention my other aunt, the hippopotamus, and my other uncle, the baboon, have all spanked me for my satiable courteosity, and I suppose this is the same thing. So he said good-bye very politely to the bi-colored python rock snake, and helped to coil him up on the rock again, and went on, a little warm but not at all astonished, eating melons and throwing the rind about, because he could not pick it up, till he trod on what he thought was a log of wood, at the very edge of the great gray, green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever trees. But it was really the crocodile, o' best beloved, and the crocodile winked one eye, like this. Excuse me, said the elephant's child, most politely, but do you happen to have seen a crocodile in these promiscuous parts? Then the crocodile winked the other eye, and lifted half his tail out of the mud, and the elephant's child stepped back most politely, because he did not wish to be spanked again. Come hither, little one, said the crocodile. Why do you ask such things? Excuse me, said the elephant's child, most politely, but my father has spanked me, my mother has spanked me, not to mention my tall aunt, the ostrich, and my tall uncle, the giraffe, who can kick ever so hard, as well as my broad aunt, the hippopotamus, and my hairy uncle, the baboon, and including the bi-colored python rock snake, with the scalesome flailsome tail just up the bank, whose spanks harder than any of them. And so, if it's quite all the same to you, I don't want to be spanked any more. Come hither, little one, said the crocodile, for I am the crocodile, and he wept crocodile tears to show it was quite true. Then the elephant's child grew all breathless, and panted, and kneeled down on the bank, and said, You are the very person I have been looking for all these long days. Will you please tell me what you have for dinner? Come hither, little one, said the crocodile, and I'll whisper. Then the elephant's child put his head down close to the crocodile's musky tusky mouth, and the crocodile caught him by his little nose, which up to that very weak day, hour, and minute had been no bigger than a boot, though much more useful. I think, said the crocodile, and he said it between his teeth like this, I think today I will begin with elephant's child. At this, oh best beloved, the elephant's child was much annoyed, and he said speaking through his nose like this, Let go, you are herding bee. Then the bi-coloured python-rock snake scuffled down from the bank, and said, My young friend, if you do not now immediately and instantly pull as hard as ever you can, it is my opinion that your acquaintance in the large pattern leather ulster, and by this he met the crocodile, will jerk you into yonder limpid stream before you can say Jack Robinson. This is the way bi-coloured python-rock snakes always talk. Then the elephant's child sat back on his little haunches, and pulled and pulled and pulled, and his nose began to stretch, and the crocodile floundered into the water, making it all creamy with great sweeps of his tail, and he pulled and pulled and pulled, and the elephant's child's nose kept on stretching, and the elephant's child spread all his little four legs and pulled and pulled and pulled, and his nose kept on stretching, and the crocodile threshed his tail like an oar, and he pulled and pulled and pulled, and at each pull the elephant's child's nose grew longer and longer, and it hurt him hijous. Then the elephant's child felt his legs slipping, and he said through his nose, which was now nearly five feet long, this is too much for me. Then the bi-coloured python-rock snake came down from the bank and knotted himself in a double-clove hitch round the elephant's child's hind legs and said, rash and inexperienced traveller, we will now seriously devote ourselves to a little high tension, because if we do not, it is my impression that yonder self-propelling manivore with the armour-plated upper deck, and by this, oh best beloved, he meant the crocodile, will permanently vitiate your future career. This is the way all bi-coloured python-rock snakes always talk. So he pulled and the elephant's child pulled and the crocodile pulled, but the elephant's child and the bi-coloured python-rock snake pulled hardest, and at last the crocodile let go of the elephant's child's nose with a plop that you could hear all up and down the limpopo. Then the elephant's child sat down most hard and sudden, but first he was careful to say, thank you to the bi-coloured python-rock snake, and next he was kind to his poor, polled nose and wrapped it all up in cool banana leaves and hung it in the great green greasy limpopo to cool. What are you doing that for? asked the bi-coloured python-rock snake. Excuse me, said the elephant's child, but my nose is badly out of shape and I am waiting for it to shrink. Then you will have to wait a long time, said the bi-coloured python-rock snake. Some people do not know what is good for them. The elephant's child sat there for three days waiting for his nose to shrink, but it never grew any shorter, and besides it made him squint. Four, oh best beloved, you will see and understand that the crocodile had pulled it out into a really, truly trunk, same as all elephants have today. At the end of the third day a fly came and stung him on the shoulder, and before he knew what he was doing he lifted up his trunk and hit that fly dead with the end of it. Vantage number one, said the bi-coloured python-rock snake, you couldn't have done that with a mere smear nose. Try and eat a little now. Before he thought what he was doing the elephant's child put out his trunk and plucked a large bundle of grass, dusted it clean against his forelegs, and stuffed it into his own mouth. Vantage number two, said the bi-coloured python-rock snake, you couldn't have done that with a mere smear nose. Don't you think the sun is very hot here? It is, said the elephant's child, and before he thought what he was doing he schlooped up a schloop of mud from the banks of the great grey-green greasy limpo-po, and slapped it on his head, where it made a cool, schloopy, sloshy mud cap, all trickly behind his ears. Vantage number three, said the bi-coloured python-rock snake, you couldn't have done that with a mere smear nose. Now how do you feel about being spanked again? Excuse me, said the elephant's child, but I should not like it at all. How would you like to spank somebody, said the bi-coloured python-rock snake? I should like it very much indeed, said the elephant's child. Well, said the bi-coloured python-rock snake, you will find that new nose of yours very useful to spank people with. Thank you, said the elephant's child, I'll remember that, and now I think I'll go home to all my dear families and try. So the elephant's child went home across Africa, for sking and whisking his trunk. When he wanted fruit to eat, he pulled fruit down from a tree, instead of waiting for it to fall, as he used to do. When he wanted grass, he plucked grass up from the ground, instead of going on his knees, as he used to do. When the flies bit him, he broke off the branch of a tree, and used it as a fly-whisk, and made himself a new, cool, slushy, squishy mud cap, whenever the sun was hot. When he felt lonely walking through Africa, he sang to himself down his trunk, and the noise was louder than several brass bands. He went especially out of his way to find a broad hippopotamus. She was no relation of his, and he spanked her very hard, to make sure that the bi-coloured python-rock snake had spoken the truth about his new trunk. The rest of the time he picked up the melon-rinds that he had dropped on his way to the Limpopo, for he was a tidy pack-a-derm. One dark evening he came back to all his dear families, and he coiled up his trunk and said, How do you do? They were very glad to see him, and immediately said, Come here and be spanked for your satiable courteosity. Poo! said the elephant's child, I don't think you peoples know anything about spanking, but I do, and I'll show you. Then he uncurled his trunk, and knocked two of his dear brothers head over heels. Oh, bananas! said they, where did you learn that trick, and what have you done to your nose? I got a new one from the crocodile on the banks of the great grey-green greasy Limpopo river, said the elephant's child. I asked him what he had for dinner, and he gave me this to keep. It looks very ugly, said his hairy uncle, the baboon. It does, said the elephant's child, but it's very useful, and he picked up his hairy uncle, the baboon, by one hairy leg, and hove him into a hornet's nest. Then that bad elephant's child spanked all his dear families for a long time, till they were very warm and greatly astonished. He pulled out his tall ostrich ant's tail feathers, and he caught his tall uncle, the giraffe, by the hind leg, and dragged him through a thornbush, and he shouted at his broad ant the hippopotamus, and blew bubbles into her ear when she was sleeping in the water after meals. But he never let anyone touch cola-cola bird. At last things grew so exciting that his dear families went off one by one in a hurry to the banks of the great grey-green greasy Limpopo river, all set about with fever trees, to borrow new noses from the crocodile. When they came back nobody spanked anybody any more, and ever since that day, O best beloved, all the elephants you will ever see, besides all those that you won't, have trunks precisely like the trunk of the satiable elephant's child. I keep six honest serving men, they taught me all I knew. Their names are what, and where, and when, and how, and why, and who. I send them over land and sea, I send them east and west, but after they have worked for me I give them all a rest. I let them rest from nine till five, for I am busy then, as well as breakfast, lunch, and tea, for they are hungry men. But different folk have different views. I know a person small. She keeps ten million serving men who get no rest at all. She sends them abroad on her own affairs, from the second she opens her eyes. One million hows, two million wares, and seven million whys. End of The Elephant's Child, read by Kara Schellenberg on May 23rd, 2007, in Oceanside, California. The Sing Song of Old Man Kangaroo. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Kara Schellenberg. The Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling. The Sing Song of Old Man Kangaroo. Not always was the Kangaroo, as now we do behold him, but a different animal, with four short legs. He was gray, and he was woolly, and his pride was inordinate. He danced on an outcrop in the middle of Australia, and he went to the little god, Nka. He went to Nka at six before breakfast, saying, Make me different from all other animals by five this afternoon. Up jumped Nka from his seat on the sand flat, and shouted, Go away. He was gray, and he was woolly, and his pride was inordinate. He danced on a rock ledge in the middle of Australia, and he went to the middle god, Nka. He went to Nka at eight after breakfast, saying, Make me different from all other animals, make me also wonderfully popular by five this afternoon. Up jumped Nka from his burrow in the spine effects, and shouted, Go away. He was gray, and he was woolly, and his pride was inordinate. He danced on a sand bank in the middle of Australia, and he went to the big god, Nka. He went to Nka at ten before dinner time, saying, Make me different from all other animals, make me popular, and wonderfully run after by five this afternoon. Up jumped Nka from his bath in the salt pan, and shouted, Yes, I will. Nka called Dingo, yellow dog Dingo, always hungry, dusty in the sunshine, and showed him kangaroo. Nka said, Dingo, wake up, Dingo. Do you see that gentleman dancing on the ash pit? He wants to be popular and very truly run after. Dingo, make him so. Up jumped Dingo, yellow dog Dingo, and said, What, that cat rabbit? Off ran Dingo, yellow dog Dingo, always hungry, grinning like a coal scuttle, ran after kangaroo. Off went the proud kangaroo on his four little legs like a bunny. This, oh, beloved of mine, ends the first part of the tale. He ran through the desert, he ran through the mountains, he ran through the salt pans, he ran through the reed beds, he ran through the blue gums, he ran through the spine effects, he ran till his front legs ached. He had to. Still ran Dingo, yellow dog Dingo, always hungry, grinning like a rat trap, never getting nearer, never getting farther, ran after kangaroo. He had to. Still ran kangaroo, old man kangaroo, he ran through the tie trees, he ran through the maulga, he ran through the long grass, he ran through the short grass, he ran through the tropics of capricorn and cancer, he ran till his hind legs ached. He had to. Still ran Dingo, yellow dog Dingo, hungrier and hungrier, grinning like a horse collar, never getting nearer, never getting farther, and they came to the wall gong river. Now there wasn't any bridge, and there wasn't any ferry boat, and kangaroo didn't know how to get over, so he stood on his legs and hopped. He had to. He hopped through the flinders, he hopped through the cinders, he hopped through the deserts in the middle of Australia. He hopped like a kangaroo. First he hopped one yard, then he hopped three yards, then he hopped five yards, his legs growing stronger, his legs growing longer. He hadn't any time for rest or refreshment, and he wanted them very much. Still ran Dingo, yellow dog Dingo, very much bewildered, very much hungry, and wondering what in the world or out of it made old man kangaroo hop. For he hopped like a cricket, like a pea in a saucepan, or a new rubber ball on a nursery floor. He had to. He tucked up his front legs, he hopped on his hind legs, he stuck out his tail for a balance weight behind him, and he hopped through the darling downs. He had to. Still ran Dingo, tired dog Dingo, hungrier and hungrier, very much bewildered, and wondering when in the world or out of it would old man kangaroo stop. Then came the kong from his bath in the salt pans, and said, It's five o'clock. Down sat Dingo, poor dog Dingo, always hungry, dusky in the sunshine, hung out his tongue and howled. Down sat kangaroo, old man kangaroo, stuck out his tail like a milking stool behind him, and said, Thank goodness that's finished. Then said Nkong, who is always a gentleman, Why aren't you grateful to yellow dog Dingo? Why don't you thank him for all he has done for you? Then said kangaroo, tired old kangaroo, He's chased me out of the homes of my childhood. He's chased me out of my regular meal times. He's altered my shape, so I'll never get it back, and he's played old scratch with my legs. Then said Nkong, Perhaps I'm mistaken, but didn't you ask me to make you different from all other animals, as well as to make you very truly sought after? And now it is five o'clock. Yes, said kangaroo, I wish that I hadn't. I thought you would do it by charms and incantations, but this is a practical joke. Joke, said Nkong from his bath in the blue gums, Say that again, and I'll whistle up Dingo and run your hind legs off. No, said the kangaroo. I must apologize. Legs are legs, and you needn't alter them so far as I am concerned. I only meant to explain to your lordliness that I've had nothing to eat since morning, and I'm very empty indeed. Yes, said Dingo, yellow dog Dingo, I am just in the same situation. I've made him different from all other animals, but what may I have for my tea? Then said Nkong from his bath in the salt pan, come and ask me about it to-morrow, because I'm going to wash. So they were left in the middle of Australia, old man kangaroo and yellow dog Dingo, and each said, That's your fault. This is the mouth-filling song of the race that was run by a boomer, run in a single burst, only event of its kind, started by big god Nkong from Waragaborgaruma. Old man kangaroo first, yellow dog Dingo behind. Kangaroo bounded away, his back legs working like pistons, bounded from morning till dark, twenty-five feet to a bound. Yellow dog Dingo lay like a yellow cloud in the distance, much too busy to bark, my but they covered the ground. Nobody knows where they went or followed the track that they flew in, for that continent hadn't been given a name. They ran thirty degrees from Taurus straights to the Liuin, look at the atlas, please, and they ran back as they came. Supposing you could trot from Adelaide to the Pacific for an afternoon's run, half what these gentlemen did, you would feel rather hot, but your legs would develop terrific. Yes, my important son, you'd be a marvelous kid. And of The Singing Song of Old Man Kangaroo, read by Kara Schellenberg on May 24th, 2007, in Oceanside, California. The beginning of the armadillos. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Kara Schellenberg. The Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling. The Beginning of the Armadillos. This, O Best Beloved, is another story of the high and far off times. In the very middle of those times was a stickly-brickly hedgehog, and he lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon, eating shelly snails and things, and he had a friend, a slow, solid tortoise, who lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon, eating green lettuces and things. And so that was all right, Best Beloved, do you see? But also, and at the same time, in those high and far off times, there was a painted jaguar, and he lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon, too, and he ate everything that he could catch. When he could not catch deer or monkeys, he would eat frogs and beetles, and when he could not catch frogs and beetles, he went to his mother Jaguar, and she told him how to eat hedgehogs and tortoises. She said to him, ever so many times, graciously waving her tail, My son, when you find a hedgehog, you must drop him into the water, and then he will uncoil, and when you catch a tortoise, you must scoop him out of his shell with your paw. And so that was all right, Best Beloved. One beautiful night, on the banks of the turbid Amazon, painted jaguar found stickly prickly hedgehog and slow, solid tortoise, sitting under the trunk of a fallen tree. They could not run away, and so stickly prickly curled himself up into a ball, because he was a hedgehog, and slow, solid tortoise drew in his head and feet into his shell as far as they would go, because he was a tortoise, and so that was all right, Best Beloved. Do you see? Now, attend to me, said painted Jaguar, because this is very important. My mother said that when I meet a hedgehog, I am to drop him into the water, and then he will uncoil, and when I meet a tortoise, I am to scoop him out of his shell with my paw. Now, which of you is hedgehog, and which is tortoise? Because to save my spots, I can't tell. Are you sure of what your mummy told you? said stickly prickly hedgehog. Are you quite sure? Perhaps she said that when you uncoil a tortoise, you must shell him out of the water with a scoop, and when you paw a hedgehog, you must drop him on the shell. Are you sure of what your mummy told you? said slow and solid tortoise. Are you quite sure? Perhaps she said that when you water a hedgehog, you must drop him into your paw, and when you meet a tortoise, you must shell him till he uncoils. I don't think it was at all like that, said painted Jaguar, but he felt a little puzzled. But, please, say it again more distinctly. When you scoop water with your paw, you uncoil it with a hedgehog, said stickly prickly. Remember that, because it's important. But, said the tortoise, when you paw your meat, you drop it into a tortoise with a scoop. Why can't you understand? You are making my spots ache, said painted Jaguar, and besides I didn't want your advice at all, I only wanted to know which of you is hedgehog and which is tortoise. I shan't tell you, said stickly prickly, but you can scoop me out of my shell if you like. Ah-ha! said painted Jaguar, now I know your tortoise, you thought I wouldn't, now I will. Painted Jaguar darted out his paddy-paw, just as stickly prickly curled himself up, and of course Jaguar's paddy-paw was just filled with prickles. Worse than that, he knocked stickly prickly away and away into the woods and the bushes, where it was too dark to find him. Then he put his paddy-paw into his mouth, and of course the prickles hurt him worse than ever. As soon as he could speak, he said, now I know he isn't tortoise at all, but— and then he scratched his head with his un-pickly paw. How do I know that this other is tortoise? But I am tortoise, said slow and solid. Your mother was quite right. She said that you were to scoop me out of my shell with your paw. Begin. You didn't say she said that a minute ago, said painted Jaguar, sucking the prickles out of his paddy-paw. You said she said something quite different. Well, suppose you say that I said that she said something quite different. I don't see that it makes any difference, because if she said what you said I said she said, it's just the same as if I said what she said she said. On the other hand, if you think she said that you were to uncoil me with a scoop, instead of pawing me into drops with a shell, I can't help that, can I? But you said you wanted to be scooped out of your shell with my paw, said painted Jaguar. If you'll think again you'll find that I didn't say anything of the kind, I said that your mother said that you were to scoop me out of my shell, said slow and solid. What will happen if I do? said the Jaguar, most sniffily and most cautious. I don't know, because I've never been scooped out of my shell before, but I tell you truly, if you want to see me swim away, you've only got to drop me into the water. I don't believe it, said painted Jaguar. You've mixed up all the things my mother told me to do, with the things that you asked me whether I was sure that she didn't say, till I don't know whether I'm on my head or my painted tail, and now you come and tell me something I can understand, and it makes me more mixy than before. My mother told me that I was to drop one of you two into the water, and as you seem so anxious to be dropped, I think you don't want to be dropped, so jump into the turbid Amazon and be quick about it. I warn you that your mummy won't be pleased. Don't tell her I didn't tell you, said slow solid. If you say another word about what my mother said, the Jaguar answered, but he had not finished the sentence before slow and solid quietly dived into the turbid Amazon, swam under water for a long way, and came out on the bank where Stickley Prickley was waiting for him. That was a very narrow escape, said Stickley Prickley. I don't like painted Jaguar. What did you tell him that you were? I told him truthfully that I was a truthful tortoise, but he wouldn't believe it, and he made me jump into the river to see if I was, and I was, and he is surprised. Now he's gone to tell his mummy. Listen to him. They could hear painted Jaguar roaring up and down among the trees and the bushes by the side of the turbid Amazon till his mummy came. Son, son, said his mother ever so many times, graciously waving her tail. What have you been doing that you shouldn't have done? I tried to scoop something that said it wanted to be scooped out of its shell with my paw, and my paw is full of prickles, said painted Jaguar. Son, son, said his mother ever so many times, graciously waving her tail. By the prickles in your patty-paw, I see that that must have been a hedgehog. You should have dropped him into the water. I did that to the other thing, and he said he was a tortoise, and I didn't believe him, and it was quite true, and he has dived under the turbid Amazon, and he won't come up again, and I haven't anything at all to eat, and I think we had better find lodgings somewhere else. They are too clever on the turbid Amazon for poor me. Son, son, said his mother ever so many times, graciously waving her tail. Now attend to me and remember what I say. A hedgehog curls himself up into a ball, and his prickles stick out every which way at once. By this you may know the hedgehog. I don't like this old lady one little bit, said stickly prickly, under the shadow of a large leaf. I wonder what else she knows. A tortoise can't curl himself up. Mother Jaguar went on, ever so many times, graciously waving her tail. He only draws his head and legs into his shell. By this you may know the tortoise. I don't like this old lady at all at all, said slow and solid tortoise. Even painted Jaguar can't forget those directions. It's a great pity that you can't swim, stickly prickly. Don't talk to me, said stickly prickly. Just think how much better it would be if you could curl up. This is a mess. Listen to painted Jaguar. Painted Jaguar was sitting on the banks of the turbid Amazon, sucking prickles out of his paws and saying to himself, Can't curl, but can swim. Slow solid, that's him. Curls up, but can't swim. Stickly prickly, that's him. He'll never forget that this month of Sundays, said stickly prickly. Hold up my chin, slow and solid. I'm going to try to learn to swim. It may be useful. Excellent, said slow and solid, and he held up stickly prickly's chin while stickly prickly kicked in the waters of the turbid Amazon. You'll make a fine swimmer yet, said slow and solid. Now, if you can unlace my back plates a little, I'll see what I can do towards curling up. It may be useful. Stickly prickly helped to unlace tortoise's back plates, so that by twisting and straining, slow and solid actually managed to curl up a tiddy wee bit. Excellent, said stickly prickly, but I shouldn't do any more just now. It's making you black in the face. Kindly lead me into the water once again, and I'll practice that side stroke, which you say is so easy. And so stickly prickly practiced, and slow solid swam alongside. Excellent, said slow and solid, a little more practice will make you a regular whale. Now, if I may trouble you to unlace my back and front plates two holes more, I'll try that fascinating bend that you say is so easy. Won't painted jaguar be surprised? Excellent, said stickly prickly, all wet from the turbid Amazon. I declare, I shouldn't know you from one of my own family. Two holes, I think you said. A little more expression, please, and don't grunt quite so much, or painted jaguar may hear us. When you've finished, I want to try that long dive which you say is so easy. Won't painted jaguar be surprised? And so stickly prickly dived, and slow and solid dived alongside. Excellent, said slow and solid, a little more attention to holding your breath, and you will be able to keep house at the bottom of the turbid Amazon. Now I'll try that exercise of putting my hind legs around my ears, which you say is so peculiarly comfortable. Won't painted jaguar be surprised? Excellent, said stickly prickly, but it's straining your back plates a little. They are all overlapping now, instead of lying side by side. Oh, that's the result of exercise, said slow and solid. I've noticed that your prickles seem to be melting into one another, and that you're growing to look rather more like a pine cone, and less like a chestnut burr than you used to. Am I, said stickly prickly, that comes from my soaking in the water, oh, won't painted jaguar be surprised? They went on with their exercises, each helping the other, till morning came, and when the sun was high they rested and dried themselves. Then they saw that they were both of them quite different from what they had been. Stickly prickly, said tortoise after breakfast, I am not what I was yesterday, but I think that I may yet amuse painted jaguar. That was the very thing I was thinking just now, said stickly prickly. I think scales are a tremendous improvement on prickles, to say nothing of being able to swim. Oh, won't painted jaguar be surprised? Let's go and find him. By and by they found painted jaguar, still nursing his paddy-paw that had been hurt the night before. He was so astonished that he fell three times backward over his own painted tail without stopping. Good morning, said stickly prickly, and how is your dear gracious mummy this morning? She is quite well, thank you, said painted jaguar, but you must forgive me if I do not, at this precise moment, recall your name. That's unkind of you, said stickly prickly, seeing that this time yesterday you tried to scoop me out of my shell with your paw. But you hadn't any shell, it was all prickles, said painted jaguar. I know it was, just look at my paw. You told me to drop into the turbid Amazon and be drowned, said slow solid. Why are you so rude and forgetful today? Don't you remember what your mother told you, said stickly prickly? Can't curl but can swim, stickly prickly, that's him. Curls up but can't swim, slow solid, that's him. Then they both curled themselves up and rolled round and round, painted jaguar, till his eyes turned truly cartwheels in his head. Then he went to fetch his mother. Mother, he said, there are two new animals in the woods today, and the one that you said couldn't swim swims, and the one that you said couldn't curl up curls, and they've gone shares in their prickles, I think, because both of them are scaly all over, instead of one being smooth and the other very prickly. And besides that, they are rolling round and round in circles, and I don't feel comfy. Sun, sun, said Mother Jaguar, ever so many times, graciously waving her tail. A hedgehog is a hedgehog, and can't be anything but a hedgehog, and a tortoise is a tortoise, and can never be anything else. But it isn't a hedgehog, and it isn't a tortoise, it's a little bit of both, and I don't know its proper name. Nonsense, said Mother Jaguar. Everything has its proper name. I should call it Armadillo, till I found out the real one, and I should leave it alone. So painted Jaguar did as he was told, especially about leaving them alone, but the curious thing is that from that day to this, O Best Beloved, no one on the banks of the turbid Amazon has ever called stickly prickly and slow solid anything except Armadillo. There are hedgehogs and tortoises in other places, of course, there are some in my garden, but the real old and clever kind, with their scales lying lippity-lappity one over the other, like pinecone scales, that lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon in the high and far off days, are always called Armadillos, because they were so clever. So that's all right, Best Beloved, do you see? I've never sailed the Amazon, I've never reached Brazil, but the Don and Magdalena, they can go there when they will. Yes, weekly from Southampton, great steamers, white and gold, go rolling down to Rio, roll down, roll down to Rio, and I'd like to roll to Rio some day before I mold. I've never seen a Jaguar nor yet an Armadillo, O Dillo-ing in his armour, and I suppose I never will, unless I go to Rio, these wonders to behold, roll down, roll down to Rio, roll really down to Rio, O I'd love to roll to Rio some day before I mold. End of The Beginning of the Armadillos, read by Kara Schellenberg, on May 24th, 2007, in Oceanside, California, how the first letter was written. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, this reading by Kara Schellenberg. The Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling, how the first letter was written. Once upon a most early time was a neolithic man. He was not a jute, or an angle, or even a Dravidian, which he might well have been best beloved, but never mind why. He was a primitive, and he lived cavely in a cave, and he wore very few clothes, and he couldn't read, and he couldn't write, and he didn't want to, and except when he was hungry, he was quite happy. His name was Tegumai Bopsulai, and that means man who does not put his foot forward in a hurry, but we, O best beloved, will call him Tegumai, for short. And his wife's name was Teshumai Tewindrow, and that means lady who asks a very many questions. But we, O best beloved, will call her Teshumai, for short. And his little girl daughter's name was Tafimai Metalumai, and that means small person without any manners who ought to be spanked, but I'm going to call her Tafi. And she was Tegumai Bopsulai's best beloved, and her own mummy's best beloved, and she was not spanked half as much as was good for her, and they were all three very happy. And as soon as Tafi could run about, she went everywhere with her daddy Tegumai, and sometimes they would not come home to the cave till they were hungry, and then Teshumai Tewindrow would say, Where in the world have you two been to, to get so shocking dirty? Really, my Tegumai, you're no better than my Tafi. Now attend and listen. One day Tegumai Bopsulai went down through the beaver swamp to the Wagai River to spear carp fish for dinner, and Tafi went too. Tegumai's spear was made of wood with shark's teeth at the end, and before he had caught any fish at all he accidentally broke it clean across by jabbing it down too hard on the bottom of the river. They were miles and miles from home. Of course they had their lunch with them in a little bag, and Tegumai had forgotten to bring any extra spears. Here's a pretty kettle of fish, said Tegumai. It will take me half the day to mend this. There's your big black spear at home, said Tafi. Let me run back to the cave and ask mummy to give it me. It's too far for your little fat legs, said Tegumai. Besides you might fall into the beaver swamp and be drowned. We must make the best of a bad job. He sat down and took out a little leather mendy bag full of reindeer sinews and strips of leather and lumps of beeswax and resin, and began to mend the spear. Tafi sat down too with her toes in the water and her chin in her hand and thought very hard. Then she said, I say, daddy, it's an awful nuisance that you and I don't know how to write, isn't it? If we did we could send a message for the new spear. Tafi, said Tegumai, how often have I told you not to use slang? Awful isn't a pretty word, but it would be a convenience now you mention it, if we could write home. Just then a stranger man came along the river, but he belonged to a far tribe, the Tewaras, and he did not understand one word of Tegumai's language. He stood on the bank and smiled at Tafi, because he had a little girl daughter of his own at home. Tegumai drew a hank of deer sinews from his mendy bag and began to mend his spear. Come here, said Tafi, do you know where my mummy lives? And the stranger man said, Being, as you know, a Tewara. Silly, said Tafi, and she stamped her foot, because she saw a shoal of very big carp going up the river just when her daddy couldn't use his spear. Don't bother grown-ups, said Tegumai, so busy with his spear-mending that he did not turn round. I aren't, said Tafi, I only want him to do what I want him to do and he won't understand. Then don't bother me, said Tegumai, and he went on pulling and straining at the deer sinews with his mouth full of loose ends. The stranger man, a genuine Tewara he was, sat down on the grass, and Tafi showed him what her daddy was doing. The stranger man thought, This is a very wonderful child. She stamps her foot at me and she makes faces. She must be the daughter of that noble chief, who is so great that he won't take any notice of me. So he smiled more politely than ever. Now, said Tafi, I want you to go to my mummy because your legs are longer than mine and you won't fall into the beaver swamp, and ask for daddy's other spear, the one with the black handle that hangs over our fireplace. The stranger man, and he was at Tewara, thought, This is a very, very wonderful child. She waves her arms and she shouts at me, but I don't understand a word of what she says, but if I don't do what she wants, I greatly fear that that haughty chief, man who turns his back on collars, will be angry. He got up and twisted a big flat piece of bark off a birch tree and gave it to Tafi. He did this best beloved to show that his heart was as white as the birch bark, and that he meant no harm, but Tafi didn't quite understand. Oh! said she. Now I see. You want my mummy's living address. Of course I can't write, but I can draw pictures if I have anything sharp to scratch with. Please lend me the shark's tooth off your necklace. The stranger man, and he was at Tewara, didn't say anything, so Tafi put up her little hand and pulled at the beautiful bead and seed and shark-tooth necklace round his neck. The stranger man, and he was at Tewara, thought, this is a very, very, very wonderful child. The shark's tooth on my necklace is a magic shark's tooth, and I was always told that if anybody touched it without my leave, they would immediately swell up or burst. But this child doesn't swell up or burst, and that important chief, man who attends strictly to his business, who has not yet taken any notice of me at all, doesn't seem to be afraid that she will swell up or burst. I had better be more polite. So he gave Tafi the shark's tooth, and she lay down flat on her tummy with her legs in the air, like some people on the drawing-room floor when they want to draw pictures, and she said, Now I'll draw you some beautiful pictures. You can look over my shoulder, but you mustn't juggle. First I'll draw daddy fishing. It isn't very like him, but mummy will know, because I've drawn his spear all broken. Well, now I'll draw the other spear that he wants, the black handled spear. It looks as if it was sticking in daddy's back, but that's because the shark's tooth slipped, and this piece of bark isn't big enough. That's the spear I want you to fetch, so I'll draw a picture of me myself, explaining to you. My hair doesn't stand up like I've drawn, but it's easier to draw that way. Now I'll draw you. I think you're very nice, really, but I can't make you pretty in the picture, so you mustn't be fended. Are you fended? The stranger man, and he was Atawara, smiled. He thought, There must be a big battle going to be fought somewhere, and this extraordinary child, who takes my magic shark's tooth but who does not swell up or burst, is telling me to call all the great chief's tribe to help him. He is a great chief, or he would have noticed me. Look, said Taffy, drawing very hard and rather scratchily. Now I've drawn you, and I've put the spear that daddy wants into your hand, just to remind you that you're to bring it. Now I'll show you how to find my mummy's living address. You go along till you come to two trees, those are trees, and then you go over a hill, that's a hill, and then you come into a beaver swamp, all full of beavers. I haven't put in all the beavers because I can't draw beavers, but I've drawn their heads, and that's all you'll see of them when you cross the swamp. Mind you don't fall in. Then our cave is just beyond the beaver swamp. It isn't as high as the hills, really, but I can't draw things very small. That's my mummy outside. She is beautiful. She is the most beautifulest mummy there ever was, but she won't be fended when she sees I've drawn her so plain. She'll be pleased of me because I can draw. Now, in case you forget, I've drawn the spear that daddy wants outside our cave. It's inside, really, but you show the picture to my mummy and she'll give it to you. I've made her holding up her hands because I know she'll be so pleased to see you. Isn't it a beautiful picture? And do you quite understand, or shall I explain again? The stranger man, and he was a tewara, looked at the picture and nodded very hard. He said to himself, If I do not fetch this great chief's tribe to help him, he will be slain by his enemies who are coming up on all sides with spears. Now I see why the great chief pretended not to notice me. He feared that his enemies were hiding in the bushes and would see him. Therefore he turned to me his back and let the wise and wonderful child draw the terrible picture showing me his difficulties. I will away and get help for him from his tribe. He did not even ask Taffy the road but raced off into the bushes like the wind, with the birch bark in his hand, and Taffy sat down most pleased. Now, this is the picture that Taffy had drawn for him. What have you been doing, Taffy? said Tegumai. He had mended his spear and was carefully waving it to and fro. It's a little arrangement of my own, daddy dear, said Taffy. If you won't ask me questions, you'll know all about it in a little time and you'll be surprised. You don't know how surprised you'll be, daddy. Promise you'll be surprised. Very well, said Tegumai, and went on fishing. The stranger man, did you know he was a tewara, hurried away with the picture and ran for some miles till quite by accident he found Teshumai Tewindrow at the door of her cave talking to some other neolithic ladies who had come in to a primitive lunch. Taffy was very like Teshumai, especially about the upper part of the face and the eyes, so the stranger man, always a pure tewara, smiled politely and handed Teshumai the birch bark. He had run hard so that he panted, and his legs were scratched with brambles, but he still tried to be polite. As soon as Teshumai saw the picture she screamed like anything and flew at the stranger man. The other neolithic ladies at once knocked him down and sat on him in a long line of six, while Teshumai pulled his hair. It's as plain as the nose on this stranger man's face, she said. He has stuck my Tegumai awful of spears and frightened poor Taffy so that her hair stands all on end, and, not content with that, he brings me a horrid picture of how it was done. Look! She showed the picture to all the neolithic ladies, sitting patiently on the stranger man. Here is my Tegumai with his arm broken, here is a spear sticking into his back, here is a man with a spear ready to throw, here is another man throwing a spear from a cave, and here are a whole pack of people. They were Taffy's beavers, really, but they did look rather like people. Coming up behind Tegumai, isn't it shocking? Most shocking, said the neolithic ladies, and they filled the stranger man's hair with mud, at which he was surprised, and they beat upon the reverberating tribal drums and called together all the chiefs of the tribe of Tegumai with their hetmans and dolmans, all neguses, wounds, and akhouns of the organization, in addition to the warlocks, angokoks, jujumen, bonzas, and the rest, who decided that before they chopped the stranger man's head off he should instantly lead them down the river and show them where he had hidden poor Taffy. By this time the stranger man, in spite of being a tewara, was really annoyed. They had filled his hair quite solid with mud, they had rolled him up and down on knobby pebbles, they had sat upon him in a long line of six, they had thumped him and bumped him till he could hardly breathe, and though he did not understand their language he was almost sure that the names the neolithic ladies called him were not ladylike. However he said nothing till all the tribe of Tegumai were assembled, and then he led them back to the bank of the Wagai River, and there they found Taffy making daisy chains, and Tegumai carefully spearing small carp with his mended spear. Well, you have been quick, said Taffy, but why did you bring so many people? Daddy dear, this is my surprise. Are you surprised, daddy? Very, said Tegumai, but it has ruined all my fishing for the day. Why, the whole dear, kind, nice, clean, quiet tribe is here, Taffy. And so they were. First of all, walked Teshumai Te Windrow and the neolithic ladies, tightly holding on to the stranger man whose hair was full of mud, although he was a tewara. Behind them came the head chief, the vice chief, the deputy and assistant chiefs, all armed to the upper teeth, the hetmans and heads of hundreds, platoffs with their platoons, and dolmans with their detachments, wounds, neguses, and akhouns ranking in the rear, still armed to the teeth. Behind them was the tribe in hierarchical order, from owners of four caves, one for each season, a private reindeer run and two salmon leaps, two feudal and prognathus villains, semi-entitled to half a bearskin of winter nights, seven yards from the fire, and ad-script serfs holding the reversion of a scraped marrow-bone under the harriot. Aren't those beautiful words best beloved? They were all there, prancing and shouting, and they frightened every fish for twenty miles, and Tegumai thanked them in a fluid, neolithic oration. Then Tehshumai Tehwindro ran down and kissed and hugged Taffy very much indeed, but the head chief of the tribe of Tegumai took Tegumai by the top-knot feathers and shook him severely. Explain, explain, explain! cried all the tribe of Tegumai. Goodness sakes alive, said Tegumai. Let go of my top-knot. Can't a man break his carp spear without the whole countryside descending on him? You are a very interfering people. I don't believe you've brought my daddy's black-handled spear after all, said Taffy, and what are you doing to my nice stranger-man? They were thumping him by twos and threes and tens till his eyes turned round and round. He could only gasp and point at Taffy. Where are the bad people who speared you, my darling? said Tehshumai Tehwindro. There weren't any, said Tegumai. My only visitor this morning was the poor fellow that you are trying to joke. Aren't you well? Or are you ill? Oh, tribe of Tegumai. He came with a horrible picture, said the head chief, a picture that showed you were full of spears. Er, um, perhaps I'd better explain that I gave him that picture, said Taffy, but she did not feel quite comfy. You said the tribe of Tegumai altogether. Small person with no manners who ought to be spanked, you? Taffy, dear, I'm afraid we're in for a little trouble, said her daddy, and put his arm round her so she didn't care. Explain, explain, explain, said the head chief of the tribe of Tegumai, and he hopped on one foot. I wanted the stranger-man to fetch daddy's spear, so I drawded it, said Taffy. There wasn't lots of spears, there was only one spear. I drawded it three times to make sure. I couldn't help it looking as if it stuck into daddy's head. There wasn't room on the birch bark, and those things that mummy called bad people are my beavers. I drawded them to show him the way through the swamp, and I drawded mummy at the mouth of the cave, looking pleased, because he is a nice stranger-man. And I think you are just the stupidest people in the world, said Taffy. He is a very nice man. Why have you filled his hair with mud? Wash him. Nobody said anything at all for a long time, till the head chief laughed. Then the stranger-man, who was at least a Tawara, laughed. Then Tegumai laughed till he fell down flat on the bank. Then all the tribe laughed more and worse and louder. The only people who did not laugh were Teishumai Tuindro and all the Neolithic ladies. They were very polite to all their husbands, and said, idiot, ever so often. Then the head chief of the tribe of Tegumai cried, and said, and sang, O small person without any manners who ought to be spanked, you've hit upon a great invention. I didn't intend to. I only wanted daddy's black-handled spear, said Taffy. Never mind. It is a great invention, and some day men will call it writing. At present it is only pictures, and as we have seen today, pictures are not always properly understood. But a time will come, O babe of Tegumai, when we shall make letters, all twenty-six of them, and when we shall be able to read as well as to write, and then we shall always say exactly what we mean without any mistakes. Let the Neolithic ladies wash the mud out of the stranger's hair. I shall be glad of that, said Taffy, because after all, though you've brought every single other spear in the tribe of Tegumai, you've forgotten my daddy's black-handled spear. Then the head chief cried, and said, and sang, Taffy dear, the next time you write a picture-letter, you'd better send a man who can talk our language with it to explain what it means. I don't mind it myself, because I am a head chief, but it's very bad for the rest of the tribe of Tegumai, and, as you can see, it surprises the stranger. Then they adopted the stranger man, a genuine tewara of Tewar, into the tribe of Tegumai, because he was a gentleman, and did not make a fuss about the mud that the Neolithic ladies had put into his hair. But from that day to this, and I suppose it is all Taffy's fault, very few little girls have ever liked learning to read or write. Most of them prefer to draw pictures and play about with their daddies, just like Taffy. This is the story of Tafemai Metalumai carved on an old tusk a very long time ago by the ancient peoples. If you read my story, or have it read to you, you can see how it is all told out on the tusk. The tusk was part of an old tribal trumpet that belonged to the tribe of Tegumai. The pictures were scratched on it with a nail or something, and then the scratches were filled up with black wax, but all the dividing lines and the five little rounds at the bottom were filled with red wax. When it was new there was a sort of network of beads and shells and precious stones at one end of it, but now that has been broken and lost, all except the little bit that you see. The letters round the tusk are magic, runic magic, and if you can read them you will find out something rather new. The tusk is of ivory, very yellow and scratched. It is two feet long and two feet round, and weighs eleven pounds, nine ounces. There runs a road by Merodown, a grassy track today it is, an hour out of Guildford town, above the river Way it is. Here when they heard the horse-spells ring, the ancient Britons dressed and rode to watch the dark Phoenicians bring their goods along the western road. And here or hereabouts they met to hold their racial talks and such, to barter beads for Whitby jet, and tin for gay shell torques and such. But long and long before that time, when Bison used to roam on it, did Taffy and her daddy climb that down and had their home on it. Then beavers built in Broadstone Brook and made a swamp where Bramley stands, and hears from Shear would come and look for Taffy-mai where Shamley stands. The way that Taffy called Wagai was more than six times bigger than, and all the tribe of Tegumai, they cut a noble figure then. End of How the First Letter Was Written, read by Kara Schellenberg on May 26th, 2007, in Oceanside, California.