Labradee?" asked Jimmieboy.
"It's Labrador," said the major, with a smile; "but Labradee rhymes better with Germany, and as long as you know I'm not telling the truth, and are not likely to go there, it doesn't make any difference if I change it a little."
"That's so," said Jimmieboy, with a snicker. "But how about those peaches? Do you know anything that isn't so about them?"
"Oh, yes, lots," said the major.
"I know that when the peach is green,
And growing on the tree,
It's harder than a common bean,
And yellow as can be.
I know that if you eat a peach
That's just a bit too young,
A lesson strong the act will teach,
And leave your nerves unstrung.
And, furthermore, I know this fact:
The crop, however hale
In every year before 'tis packed,
Doth never fail to fail."
"That's very interesting," said Jimmieboy, when the major had recited these lines, "but it doesn't help me a bit. What I want to know is how the pickled peaches are to be found, and where."
"Oh, that's it, is it?" said the major. "Well, it's easy enough to tell you that. First as to how you are to find them – this applies to huckleberries and daisies and fire-engines and everything else, just as well as it does to peaches, so you'd better listen. It's a very valuable thing to know.
"The way to find a pickled peach,
A cow, or piece of pumpkin pie,
A simple lesson is to teach,
As can be seen with half an eye.
Look up the road and down the road,
Look North and South and East and West.
Let not a single episode
Come in betwixt you and your quest.
Search morning, night, and afternoon,
From Monday until Saturday;
By light of sun and that of moon,
Nor mind the troubles in your way.
And keep this up until you get
The thing that you are looking for,
And then, of course, you need not fret
About the matter any more."
"You are a great help," said Jimmieboy.
"Don't mention it, my dear boy," replied the major, so pleased that he smiled and cracked some of the red enamel on his lips. "I like to be useful. It's almost as good as being youthful. In fact, to people who lisp and pronounce their esses as though they were teeaitches, it's quite the same. It was very easy to tell you how to find a pickled peach, but it's much harder to tell you where. In fact, I don't know that I can tell you where, but if I were not compelled to ignore the truth I should inform you at once that I haven't the slightest idea. But, of course, I can tell you where you might find them if they were there – which, of course, they aren't. For instance:
"Pickled peaches might be found
In the gold mines underground;
Pickled peaches might be seen
Rolling down the Bowling Green;
Pickled peaches might spring up
In a bed of custard cup;
Pickled peaches might sprout forth
From an ice-cake in the North;
I have seen them in the South
In a pickaninny's mouth;
I have seen them in the West
Hid inside a cowboy's vest;
I have seen them in the East
At a small boy's birthday feast;
Maybe, too, a few you'd see
In the land of the Chinee;
And this statement broad I'll dare:
You might find them anywhere."
"Thank you," said Jimmieboy. "I feel easier now that I know all this. I don't know what I should have done if I hadn't met you, major."
"It's very unkind of you to say so," said the major, very much pleased by Jimmieboy's appreciation. "Of course you know what I mean."
"Yes," answered Jimmieboy, "I do. Now I'll tell you what I think. I think pickled peaches come in cans and bottles."
"Bottles and cans,
Bottles and cans,
When a man marries it ruins his plans,"
quoted the major. "I got married once," he added, "but I became a bachelor again right off. My wife wrote better poetry than I could, and I couldn't stand that, you know. That's how I came to be a soldier."
"That hasn't anything to do with the pickled peaches," said Jimmieboy, impatiently. "Now, unless I am very much mistaken, we can go to the grocery store and buy a few bottles."
"Ho!" jeered the major. "What's the use of buying bottles when you're after pickled peaches?
'Of all the futile, futile things —
Remarked the Apogee —
That is as truly futilest
As futilest can be.'
You never heard my poem on the Apogee, did you, Jimmieboy?"
"No. I never even heard of an Apogee. What is an Apogee, anyhow?" asked the boy.
"To give definitions isn't a part of my bargain," answered the major. "I haven't the slightest idea what an Apogee is. He may be a bird with a whole file of unpaid bills, for all I know, but I wrote a poem about him once that made another poet so jealous that he purposely caught a bad cold and sneezed his head off; and I don't blame him either, because it was a magnificent thing in its way. I'll tell it to you. Listen:
The Apogee wept saline tears
Into the saline sea,
To overhear two mutineers
Discuss their pedigree.Said he:
Of all the futile, futile things
That ever I did see.
That is as truly futilest
As futilest can be.
He hied him thence to his hotel,
And there it made him ill
To hear a pretty damosel
A bass song try to trill.Said he:
Of all the futile, futile things —
To say it I am free —
That is about the futilest
That ever I did see.
He went from sea to mountain height,
And there he heard a lad
Of sixty-eight compare the sight
To other views he'd had;And he
Remarked: Of all the futile things
That
