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قراءة كتاب Just So Stories
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JUST SO STORIES
How the Whale Got His Throat
JVST SO STORIES
BY
RVDYARD KIPLING
Joseph M. Gleeson
Doubleday Page & Company
1912
"Just So Stories," have also been copyrighted separately as follows: How the Whale Got His Tiny Throat. Copyright, 1897, by the Century Company. How the Camel Got His Hump. Copyright, 1897, by the Century Company. How the Rhinoceros Got His Wrinkly Skin. Copyright, 1898, by the Century Company. The Elephant's Child. Copyright, 1900, by Rudyard Kipling; Copyright, 1900, by the Curtis Publishing Company. The Beginning of the Armadillos. Copyright, 1900, by Rudyard Kipling. The Sing Song of Old Man Kangaroo. Copyright, 1900 by Rudyard Kipling. How the Leopard Got His Spots, Copyright, 1901, by Rudyard Kipling. How the First Letter Was Written. Copyright, 1901, by Rudyard Kipling. The Cat That Walked by Himself, Copyright, 1902, by Rudyard Kipling.
CONTENTS
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HOW THE WHALE GOT HIS THROAT
N the sea, once upon a time, O 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 plaice and the dace, and the skate and his mate, and the mackereel and the pickereel, 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 'Stute Fish, and he swam a little 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 'Stute Fish said in a small 'stute voice, 'Noble and generous Cetacean, have you ever tasted Man?'
'No,' said the Whale. 'What is it like?'
'Nice,' said the small 'Stute 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 'Stute 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 jack-knife, 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 jack-knife, he found one single, solitary shipwrecked Mariner, trailing his toes in the water. (He had his mummy's 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 jack-knife—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 thumped 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