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HOW THE WHALE GOT HIS THROAT
IN the sea, once upon a time, O my Best Beloved, there was a Whale, and
he ate fishes. He ate the starfish and the garfish, and the crab and the
dab, and the plaice and the dace, and the skate and his mate, and the
mackereel and the pickereel, and the really truly twirly-whirly eel. All
the fishes he could find in all the sea he ate with his mouth--so! Till
at last there was only one small fish left in all the sea, and he was a
small 'Stute Fish, and he swam a little behind the Whale's right ear,
so as to be out of harm's way. Then the Whale stood up on his tail and
said, 'I'm hungry.' And the small 'Stute Fish said in a small 'stute
voice, 'Noble and generous Cetacean, have you ever tasted Man?'
'No,' said the Whale. 'What is it like?'
'Nice,' said the small 'Stute Fish. 'Nice but nubbly.'
'Then fetch me some,' said the Whale, and he made the sea froth up with
his tail.
'One at a time is enough,' said the 'Stute Fish. 'If you swim to
latitude Fifty North, longitude Forty West (that is magic), you will
find, sitting _on_ a raft, _in_ the middle of the sea, with nothing on
but a pair of blue canvas breeches, a pair of suspenders (you must _not_
forget the suspenders, Best Beloved), and a jack-knife, one
ship-wrecked Mariner, who, it is only fair to tell you, is a man of
infinite-resource-and-sagacity.'
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