The Woggle-Bug Book | Page 6

educated tones:
"Oh my prismatic personification of gigantic gorgeousness!--again I
have found you!"
"Sure tling," said the Chink with composure.
"Be mine! Only be mine!" continued the enraptured Woggle-Bug.
The Chinaman did not quite understand.
"Two dlolla a day," he answered, cautiously.
"Oh, joy," exclaimed the insect in delight; "I can then own you for a
day and a half--for I have three dollars left. May I feel your exquisite
texture, my dearest Fabric?"
"No flabic. No feelee. You too flesh. I man Chinaman!" returned the
Oriental calmly.
"Never mind that! 'Tis your beautiful garment I love. Every check in
that entrancing dress is a joy and a delight to my heart!"

While the Woggle-Bug thus raved, the Chinaman's wife (who was
Mattie De Forest before she married him) heard the conversation, and
decided this love affair had gone far enough. So she suddenly appeared
with a broomstick, and with it began pounding the Woggle-Bug as
fiercely as possible--and Mattie was no weakling, I assure you.
The first blow knocked the Insect's hat so far over his eyes that he was
blinded; but, resolving not to be again cheated out of his darling, he
grasped firmly hold of the Wagnerian plaids with all four hands, and
tore a goodly portion of it from the frightened Celestial's body.
Next moment he was dashing down the street, with the precious cloth
tucked securely underneath an arm, and Mattie, being in slight
dishabile, did not think best to follow him.
The triumphant joy of the Woggle-Bug can well be imagined. No more
need he chase the fleeting vision of his love--no more submit to
countless disappointments in his efforts to approach the object of his
affection. The gorgeous plaids were now his own (or a large part of
them, anyway), and upon reaching the quiet room wherein he lodged he
gloated long and happily over its vivid coloring and violent contrasts of
its glowing hues. To the eyes of the Woggle-Bug nothing could be
more beautiful, and he positively regretted the necessity of ever turning
his gaze from this bewitching treasure.
That he might never in the future be separated from the checks, he
folded them, with many loving caresses, into compact form, and
wrapped them in a sheet of stout paper tied with cotton cord that had a
love-knot at the end. Wherever he went, thereafter, he carried the parcel
underneath his left upper arm, pressed as closely to his heart as possible.
And this sense of possession was so delightful that our Woggle-Bug
was happy as the day is long.
In the evening his fortunes changed with cruel abruptness.
He walked out to take the air, and noticing a crowd people standing in
an open space and surrounding a huge brown object, our Woggle-Bug
stopped to learn what the excitement was about.

Pushing his way through the crowd, and hugging his precious parcel,
he soon reached the inner circle of spectators and found they had
assembled to watch a balloon ascension. The Professor who was to go
up with the balloon had not yet arrived; but the balloon itself was fully
inflated and tugging hard at the rope that held it, as if anxious to escape
the blended breaths of the people that crowded around. Just below the
balloon was a small basket, attached to the netting of the gas-bag, and
the Woggle-Bug was bending over the edge of this, to see what it
contained, when a warning cry from the crowd caused him to pause and
glance over his shoulder.
Great horrors and crumpled creeps! Springing toward him, with a scowl
on his face and a long knife with a zig-zag blade in his uplifted hand,
was that very Chinaman from whose body he had torn the Wagnerian
plaids!
The plundered Celestial was evidently vindictive, and intended to push
the wicked knife into the Woggle-Bug's body.
Our hero was a brave bug, as can easily be proved; but he did not wait
for the knife to arrive at the broad of his back. Instead, he gave a yell
(to show he was not afraid) and leaped nimbly into the basket of the
balloon. The descending knife, missing its intended victim, fell upon
the rope and severed it, and instantly the great balloon from the crowd
and soared majestically toward the heavens.
The Woggle-Bug had escaped the Chinaman, but he didn't know
whether to be glad or not.
For the balloon was earning him into the clouds, and he had no idea
how to manage it, or to make it descend to earth again. When he peered
over the edge of the basket he could hear the faint murmur of the crowd,
and dimly see the enraged Professor (who had come too late) pounding
the Chinaman, while the Chinaman tried to dissect the