The fourth shelf of specimens

Even my fleas were braver than other men's soldiers. A single squad of them held a fort in Moldavia for a month. They bit the enemy's horses, then his cooks, then his flag. I gave each one a tiny medal, and I pinned them on with my best needle.

Barbers wept at the sight of my mustache. One side grew so long that I used it to moor a small boat in Naples. The other side I lent to a Greek fisherman for his nets. He caught tuna for a whole summer and returned it washed, combed, and slightly salty.

Wine from my cellar at Bodenwerder improves when you insult it. I called one barrel a thin and sorry thing. It wept for a year. Then it turned so rich and dark that two bishops fought over it, and a cardinal swore he saw the face of my aunt.

Her Imperial Highness asked me to fetch a star for her hair. I borrowed a long ladder from a Kiev fire brigade. The star was hot, so I carried it home in a soup pot. She wore it to the ball, and the ladies all left early, sunburned.

Drums can talk if you beat them politely. I had one at Vidin that gave gossip about the enemy. It told me where they kept the cake. Two of my men and I crept in and ate it all, and that loss broke the heart of their whole army.

Sea serpents are shy and prone to tears. I met one near the Hebrides and told it a sad tale about my horse. It wept a fresh lake. We talked for nine hours. I tied its neck in a bow, at its own request, and it thanked me warmly.

Last noon in Spain my shadow quit me. It said the pay was low and the hours were long. I hired a better one from a dead bullfighter. It stands up straight and never trips. The old one still follows my cousin, but he is a far less interesting man.

Milk ran short in Holstein, so I went and had a word with the cows. They wanted music. I brought them a band and a man who juggled. The first pail overflowed by noon. By Friday we had flooded the valley, and the children had to go to school in tubs.

Compasses point north because I owe money in the south. At least, mine does. It swung away from Spain with great care and saved me many awkward talks. An honest one would have led me straight to an innkeeper in Seville, and he has a long memory and a longer stick.

Moonlight sticks to the skin if you stand in it long enough. One evening in Sicily I soaked up a whole bucket of it. For a month I glowed like a bride. Sailors steered by me, moths adored me, and the lighthouse keeper filed a formal complaint.

Apple trees in Normandy once went on a long march to find better soil. I met them on the road and showed them the way to a valley near Rouen. They took root by supper. Every fall, in thanks, they drop their finest fruit straight into my open hat.

Trout leap into my hat when I whistle. In Scotland I proved it before an earl and.