THE RETURN PATH.

Then I studied a week to gain knowledge,

And waded through volumes of stuff,

And I found that the only requirements

Were cunning and blarney and bluff.

And these I had brought from the jungle —

Inherited straight from my race —

With a gift for political music

And a truly political face.

Thus feeling at home in my labors,

My plan was successful, of course,

And when they came round with appointments

They gave me a job on “the force.”

And such was my skill as a roundsman,

And talent in keeping the peace,

That I rose in a year to be Captain,

And then to be Chief of Police!

And then, as my years were advancing,

So great was their honor and trust,

That they twined me a chaplet of laurel

And sculptured in marble my bust.

Yet often I dreamed of the jungle —

Its song and the rustle of wing —

And sometimes still talked in my slumber

With Tusky, our elephant king.

When, lo, my political party,

That now was in power and supreme,

Conferred a most noble appointment

That realized all of my dream.

For they made me their African envoy,

And soon I went sailing again,

To meet my old playmates and tell them

The ways and the customs of men.

To calm the dusk native, and gather

My people in sun-haunted nooks

To tell them my story, and teach them

The wisdom that cometh of books;

The words and the ways of their fathers,

And deliver my race from its ban,

For man did not spring from the monkey,

But monkey descended from man!