Roverandom 92% 11 csillagozás

Mew turned up again the very next day, with an extra post — an immense number of letters for the Man-in-the-Moon, and bundles of newspapers: The Illustrated Weekly Weed, Ocean Notions, The Mer-mail, The Conch, and The Morning Splash.

‘It is probably just as well. There has not been a resident Magician in the Ocean for some time.
Proteus, Poseidon, Triton, Neptune, and all that lot, they’ve all turned into minnows or mussels long ago, and in any case they never knew or bothered much about things outside the Mediterranean —
they were too fond of sardines. Old Niord retired a long while ago, too. He was of course only able to give half his attention to business after his silly marriage with the giantess — you remember she fell in love with him because he had clean feet (so convenient in the home), and fell out of love with him, when it was too late, because they were wet. He’s on his last legs now, I hear; quite doddery, poor old dear. Oil-fuel has given him a dreadful cough, and he has retired to the coast of Iceland for a little sunshine.
‘There was the Old Man of the Sea, of course. He was my cousin, and I’m not proud of it. He was a bit of a burden — wouldn’t walk, and always wanted to be carried, as I dare say you have heard. That was the death of him. He sat on a floating mine (if you know what I mean) a year or two ago, right on one of the buttons! Not even my magic could do anything with that case. It was worse than the one of Humpty Dumpty.’
‘What about Britannia? ‘ asked Roverandom, who after all was an English dog; though really he was a bit bored with all this, and wanted to hear more about his own wizard. ‘I thought Britannia ruled the waves.’
‘She never really gets her feet wet. She prefers patting lions on the beach, and sitting on a penny with an eel-fork in her hand — and in any case there is more to manage in the sea than waves.