"The fact is," said Bunyip, "I have decided to see the world, and I cannot make up my mind whether to be a Traveller or a Swagman. Which would you advise?" Then said the Poet-- "As you've no bags it's plain to see A traveller you cannot be; And as a swag you haven't either You cannot be a swagman neither. For travellers must carry bags, And swagmen have to hump their swags Like bottle-ohs or ragmen. As you have neither swag nor bag You must remain a simple wag, And not a swag- or bagman." "Dear me," said Bunyip Bluegum, "I never thought of that. What must I do in order to see the world without carrying swags or bags?" The Poet thought deeply, put on his eyeglass, and said impressively-- "Take my advice, don't carry bags, For bags are just as bad as swags; They're never made to measure. To see the world, your simple trick Is but to take a walking-stick Assume an air of pleasure, And tell the people near and far You stroll about because you are A Gentleman of Leisure." "You have solved the problem," said Bunyip Bluegum, and wringing his friend's hand, he ran straight home, took his Uncle's walking-stick, and, assuming an air of pleasure, set off to see the world. He found a great many things to see, such as dandelions, and ants, and traction engines, and bolting horses, and furniture being removed, besides being kept busy raising his hat, and passing the time of day with people on the road, for he was a very well-bred young fellow, polite in his manners, graceful in his attitudes, and able to converse on a great variety of subjects, having read all the best Australian poets. Unfortunately, in the hurry of leaving home, he had forgotten to provide himself with food, and at lunch time found himself attacked by the pangs of hunger. "Dear me," he said, "I feel quite faint. I had no idea that one's stomach was so important. I have everything I require, except food; but without food everything is rather less than nothing. "I've got a stick to walk with. I've got a mind to think with. I've got a voice to talk with. I've got an eye to wink with. I've lots of teeth to eat with, A brand new hat to bow with, A pair of fists to beat with, A rage to have a row with. No joy it brings To have indeed A lot of things One does not need. Observe my doleful-plight. For here am I without a crumb To satisfy a raging turn 0 what an oversight!" As he was indulging in these melancholy reflections he came round a bend in the road, and discovered two people in the very act of having lunch. These people were none other than Bill Barnacle, the sailor, and his friend, Sam Sawnoff, the penguin bold.