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The World Turned Upside Down   By:

The World Turned Upside Down by E. C. Clayton

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[Illustration: Lith. Emrik & Binger, Haarlem.]






THE Coat was in a downright rage.

"To be beaten, and caned, and cuffed, and shaken, two or three times a day," cried he, whisking his tails about like an angry lion, "I say it's a shame."

"If you were not well thrashed," said the Cane, "you'd soon get thick with dust, and then I'd like to know how you'd look."

"So I say," remarked the Hat.

"It's all very well for you to talk, Mr. Cane," said the Coat, still more in a rage. "Nobody ever hits you, and if they did, you could hit back. And as for you, Mr. Hat, nobody ever thinks of punching you, except in fun. You have a nice soft brush all to yourself."

"Well, are you not brushed as well?" asked the Hat.

"I don't mind being brushed," said the Coat, "but the next time Mr. Valet comes along, and hits me, I'll I'll " then he growled something to himself, whisked his tails, and added, " See if I don't."

In came the Valet, and bustled about. The Coat eyed him, and when he came close, caught him up with such a clutch.

"Hallo, hallo, hallo!" cried the Valet. "What are you doing?"

But the Coat hung the Valet on a nail, and snatched up the Cane.

"Now, look here, Mister Valet," said he. "I'm not going to be dusted and beaten and thumped. I'm just going to show you what it feels like, Mister Valet."

"What are you talking about, you stupid old Coat?" said the Valet.

"I'll let you see," said the Coat, flourishing the Cane.

The Cane could not help himself, for he was thin.

Thump, thump, thump, went the Coat, blowing out such clouds and clouds of dust from the Valet's clothes, never remembering he was covering himself with dust, and making himself look shockingly shabby. The Valet called out as loud as he could for help, but nobody heard him, and the Coat kept on thumping till his sleeves fairly ached. Then he dropped the Cane, fell on the dirty floor, and whisked his tails with great satisfaction.

The Cane jumped up, and lifted down the Valet, who went off to his own room.

A few days after, the master came in, and looked at the Coat, which he had meant to wear at a jolly garden party.

"Oh," said he, "how dreadfully shabby that Coat looks."

"Yes, sir," said the Valet, "he won't allow himself to be brushed or dusted."

"Oh, won't he?" said the Master, "that's all very fine, but it won't do for me." So he seized the Cane, and gave the Coat one good thump. But such a cloud of dust came out of the Coat that the Master threw down the Cane, and ran to the door.

"Oh," cried he, "I can't wear that frightful old thing any more. It is disgracefully shabby and dusty. Sell it to the first 'ole clo'' man that comes along." But he took the Hat, and went to the nice party.

And what do you think became of this foolish Coat? Why, he was hung on a stick in a field to make a scare crow. And serve him right, a stupid thing.


The old Poll Parrot was in a rage; He bounced and spluttered about in his cage.

The reason he felt so much displeased Was because young Alf had worried and teased.

He pecked, and bobbed, and knocked with his beak, Too much enraged to be able to speak.

To tease him was a scandalous shame: Alf was a bad boy, and much to blame.

"I tell you, young Alf," at last Poll said, "If you don't leave off, I'll snap off your head.

"You think you're allowed to tease a bird. Now, that idea's extremely absurd.

"One thing, young Alf, is certain and sure Your worry and bother no more I'll endure.

"Another thing, Alf, is also clear: I mean to walk out, and lock you in here."

Poor Alfy screamed and bawled with rage When Poll marched out, and put him in the cage!

Cried Alf, "I think this horrible bird Is going to be as good as his word... Continue reading book >>

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