Young Man with a Trumpet by Frank Belknap Long _If you’ve read Orwell’s ANIMAL FARM and the delightful little fantasies by Dal Stivens--the latter an exclusive FANTASTIC UNIVERSE presentation--you’ll know that animals quite frequently “go it on their own” in truly amazing fashion. And here comes Frank Belknap Long with a whimsically delectable and prophetic confirmation of this, guaranteed to make you gasp in wonderment._ =The animals did the best they could with what they had. But a certain rare talent for the magnificent was missing until--= When Man left Earth forever the animals still carried on proudly. They knew, of course, that they could never hope to equal the Great One’s shining accomplishments. But even the wart-hog and the lowly cricket were determined to avoid his mistakes and the tragic impulsiveness which had led to his defeat on a battleground of his own choosing. It may seem surprising to some, but what they missed most of all was music. It was more the pity because animals in general have an excellent idea of pitch and can swing and sway in quite miraculous fashion to nature’s inimitable rhythms. They finally decided that something should be done about it. So they went into a huddle and came up with an astounding interrogative aphorism: _Why not try?_ The leading spirit in this conclave of daring was, of course, the ass. He stood up on his hindlegs and gave vent to a tremendous bray. This was the more remarkable because--unlike his far less intelligent cousin, the horse--the ass has little talent for vocal improvisation. It was a most commendable effort but it failed dismally. A bray is not music. It may have some of the qualities of music, but a single chord, however magnificently sustained, does not make for rapture on a tonal plane. In fact, regrettable as it may seem, the fox and the wart-hog held their ears, the skunk exuded an unforgivably unpleasant effluvium, and the prairie dog darted like a streak of midsummer lightning into his burrow. The wolf tried next. His howl was distinctly on the ferocious side and it contributed nothing to the pleasures of the moment, even though there was an undercurrent of primitive amorousness in it which should have delighted the females of his species. “You’ll have to do better than that!” the crocodile said, a comment which could have been put down to pure masculine pique, for the crocodile is notoriously sluggish in his mating habits. The bullfrog tried next, as if to prove that, while not exactly hairy-chested, he was in all respects the exact opposite of the crocodile. The cacophony of croakings which emanated from his throat was undeniably impressive, but a tonepoem with a buzzsaw accompaniment is, at best, a contradiction in terms. “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter,” quoted the wart-hog, his uncouth swiftness-on-the-trigger debasing the lines with an ironic implication never intended by Keats.