Among the Pygmies, I suppose, if one of them grew to the height of six
or eight inches, he was reckoned a prodigiously tall man. It must have
been very pretty to behold their little cities, with streets two or
three feet wide, paved with the smallest pebbles, and bordered by
habitations about as big as a squirrel's cage. The king's palace
attained to the stupendous magnitude of Periwinkle's baby house, and
stood in the center of a spacious square, which could hardly have been
covered by our hearth-rug. Their principal temple, or cathedral, was as
lofty as yonder bureau, and was looked upon as a wonderfully sublime and
magnificent edifice. All these structures were built neither of stone
nor wood. They were neatly plastered together by the Pygmy workmen,
pretty much like birds' nests, out of straw, feathers, egg shells, and
other small bits of stuff, with stiff clay instead of mortar; and when
the hot sun had dried them, they were just as snug and comfortable as a
Pygmy could desire.
The country round about was conveniently laid out in fields, the largest
of which was nearly of the same extent as one of Sweet Fern's flower
beds. Here the Pygmies used to plant wheat and other kinds of grain,
which, when it grew up and ripened, overshadowed these tiny people as
the pines, and the oaks, and the walnut and chestnut trees overshadow
you and me, when we walk in our own tracts of woodland. At harvest time,
they were forced to go with their little axes and cut down the grain,
exactly as a woodcutter makes a clearing in the forest; and when a stalk
of wheat, with its overburdened top, chanced to come crashing down upon
an unfortunate Pygmy, it was apt to be a very sad affair. If it did not
smash him all to pieces, at least, I am sure, it must have made the poor
little fellow's head ache. And O, my stars! if the fathers and mothers
were so small, what must the children and babies have been? A whole
family of them might have been put to bed in a shoe, or have crept into
an old glove, and played at hide-and-seek in its thumb and fingers. You
might have hidden a year-old baby under a thimble.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account