Animals -- Juvenile fiction; Fantasy literature; Human-animal communication -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction
“Well,” said the parrot, turning to me, “I may have started the Doctor
learning but I never could have done even that, if he hadn’t first
taught me to understand what _I_ was saying when I spoke English.
You see, many parrots can talk like a person, but very few of them
understand what they are saying. They just say it because—well, because
they fancy it is smart or, because they know they will get crackers
given them.”
By this time we had turned and were going towards my home with Jip
running in front and Polynesia still perched on the Doctor’s shoulder.
The bird chattered incessantly, mostly about Africa; but now she spoke
in English, out of politeness to me.
“How is Prince Bumpo getting on?” asked the Doctor.
“Oh, I’m glad you asked me,” said Polynesia. “I almost forgot to tell
you. What do you think?—_Bumpo is in England!_”
“In England!—You don’t say!” cried the Doctor. “What on earth is he
doing here?”
“His father, the king, sent him here to a place called—er—Bullford, I
think it was—to study lessons.”
“Bullford!—Bullford!” muttered the Doctor. “I never heard of the
place—Oh, you mean Oxford.”
“Yes, that’s the place—Oxford,” said Polynesia “I knew it had cattle in
it somewhere. Oxford—that’s the place he’s gone to.”
“Well, well,” murmured the Doctor. “Fancy Bumpo studying at
Oxford—Well, well!”
“There were great doings in Jolliginki when he left. He was scared to
death to come. He was the first man from that country to go abroad. He
thought he was going to be eaten by white cannibals or something. You
know what those niggers are—that ignorant! Well!—But his father made
him come. He said that all the black kings were sending their sons to
Oxford now. It was the fashion, and he would have to go. Bumpo wanted
to bring his six wives with him. But the king wouldn’t let him do that
either. Poor Bumpo went off in tears—and everybody in the palace was
crying too. You never heard such a hullabaloo.”
“Do you know if he ever went back in search of The Sleeping Beauty?”
asked the Doctor.
“Oh yes,” said Polynesia—“the day after you left. And a good thing for
him he did: the king got to know about his helping you to escape; and
he was dreadfully wild about it.”
“And The Sleeping Beauty?—did he ever find her?”
“Well, he brought back something which he _said_ was The Sleeping
Beauty. Myself, I think it was an albino niggeress. She had red hair
and the biggest feet you ever saw. But Bumpo was no end pleased with
her and finally married her amid great rejoicings. The feastings lasted
seven days. She became his chief wife and is now known out there as the
Crown-Princess Bum_pah_—you accent the last syllable.”
“And tell me, did he remain white?”
“Only for about three months,” said the parrot. “After that his face
slowly returned to its natural color. It was just as well. He was so
conspicuous in his bathing-suit the way he was, with his face white and
the rest of him black.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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