LEST FUFFCOOJAH PERISH OF HUNGER. — THIS CALAMITY AVERTED, ANOTHER STARES US IN THE FACE: HOW TO KEEP HIM FROM FREEZING TO DEATH. — I SOLVE THE PROBLEM, BUT DRAW UPON ME A STRANGE MISFORTUNE.
HOW A LITTLE BURDEN MAY GROW TO BE A GRIEVOUS ONE. — STORY OF A MAN WITH A MONKEY IN HIS HOOD. — MY TERRIBLE SUFFERING. — CONCERNING THE AWFUL PANIC THAT SEIZED UPON THE KOLTYKWERPS. — MY VISIT TO THE DESERTED ICE-PALACE, AND WHAT HAPPENED TO FUFFCOOJAH. — END OF HIS BRIEF BUT STRANGE CAREER. — A FROZEN KISS ON A BLADE OF HORN, OR HOW SCHNEEBOULE CHOSE A HUSBAND.
SOMETHING CONCERNING THE MANY PORTALS TO THE ICY DOMAIN OF KING GELIDUS AND THE DIFFICULT TASK OF CHOOSING THE RIGHT ONE. — HOW BULGER SOLVED IT. — OUR FAREWELL TO THE COLD-BLOODED KOLTYKWERPS. — SCHNEEBOULE’S SORROW AT LOSING US.
ALL ABOUT THE MOST TERRIBLE BUT MAGNIFICENT RIDE I EVER TOOK IN MY LIFE. — NINETY MILES ON THE BACK OF A FLYING MASS OF ICE, AND HOW BULGER AND I WERE LANDED AT LAST ON THE BANKS OF A MOST WONDERFUL RIVER. — HOW THE DAY BROKE IN THIS UNDER WORLD.
IN WHICH YOU READ OF THE GLORIOUS CAVERNS OF WHITE MARBLE FRONTING ON THE WONDERFUL RIVER. — IN THE TROPICS OF THE UNDER WORLD. — HOW WE CAME UPON A SOLITARY WANDERER ON THE BANKS OF THE RIVER. MY CONVERSATION WITH HIM, AND MY JOY AT FINDING MYSELF IN THE LAND OF THE RATTLEBRAINS, OR HAPPY FORGETTERS. — BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF THEM.
HOW WE ENTERED THE LAND OF THE HAPPY FORGETTERS. — SOMETHING MORE ABOUT THESE CURIOUS FOLK. — THEIR DREAD OF BULGER AND ME. — ONLY A STAY OF ONE DAY ACCORDED US. — DESCRIPTION OF THE PLEASANT HOMES OF THE HAPPY FORGETTERS. — THE REVOLVING DOOR THROUGH WHICH BULGER AND I ARE UNCEREMONIOUSLY SET OUTSIDE OF THE DOMAIN OF THE RATTLEBRAINS. — ALL ABOUT THE EXTRAORDINARY THINGS WHICH HAPPENED TO BULGER AND ME THEREAFTER. — ONCE MORE IN THE OPEN AIR OF THE UPPER WORLD, AND THEN HOMEWARD BOUND.
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF
WILHELM HEINRICH SEBASTIAN VON TROOMP
COMMONLY CALLED
LITTLE BARON TRUMP
As doubting Thomases seem to take particular pleasure in popping up on all occasions, Jack-in-the-Box-like, it may be well to head them off in this particular instance by proving that Baron Trump was a real baron, and not a mere baron of the mind. The family was originally French Huguenot — De la Trompe — which, upon the revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, took refuge in Holland, where its head assumed the name of Van der Troomp, just as many other of the French Protestants rendered their names into Dutch. Some years later, upon the invitation of the Elector of Brandenburg, Niklas Van der Troomp became a subject of that prince, and purchased a large estate in the province of Pomerania, again changing his name, this time to Von Troomp.
The “Little Baron,” so called from his diminutive stature, was born some time in the latter part of the seventeenth century. He was the last of his race in the direct line, although cousins of his are today well-known Pomeranian gentry. He began his travels at an incredibly early age, and filled his castle with such strange objects picked up here and there in the far away corners of the world, that the simple-minded peasantry came to look upon him as half bigwig and half magician—hence the growth of the many myths and fanciful stories concerning this indefatigable globe-trotter. The date of his death cannot be fixed with any certainty; but this much may be said: Among the portraits of Pomeranian notables hanging in the Rathhaus at Stettin, there is one picturing a man of low stature, and with a head much too large for his body. He is dressed in some outlandish costume, and holds in his left hand a grotesque image in ivory, most elaborately carved. The broad face is full of intelligence, and the large gray eyes are lighted up with a good-natured but quizzical look that invariably attracts attention. The man’s right hand rests upon the back of a dog sitting on a table and looking straight out with an air of dignity that shows that he knew he was sitting for his portrait.
If a visitor asks the guide who this man is, he always gets for answer: —
“Oh, that’s the Little Baron!”
But little Baron who, that’s the question?
Why may it not be the famous Wilhelm Heinrich Sebastian von Troomp, commonly called “Little Baron Trump,” and his wonderful dog Bulger?
Illustrations
Only Authentic Portrait of Wilhelm Heinrich Sebastian von Troomp (from the oil painting)
Along a Highway of the Under World
Before her Majesty Galaxa, Queen of the Mikkamenkies
A Dinner easily provided for
Princess Crystallina uncovers her Heart
Crystallina’s Heart on a Screen
Bulger parts his Master from Princess Crystallina
The Formifolk try the Beat of the Baron’s Heart by Telephone
Barrel Brow engaged in reading Four Books at once
A Soodopsy Maiden reading her Favorite Poet
The Gigantic Tortoise that devoured Pouting Lip
Sailing away from the Land of the Soodopsies
The Battle for Life with the White Crabs
The Little Man with the Frozen Smile
Bulger shows the Baron Something Wonderful
The Baron’s Flight to the Ice Palace
Death of Fuffcoojah
Koltykwerpian Quarrymen hewing a Passage the the Wall of Ice
The Wonderful Ride on the Block of Ice
The Tropics of the Under World
