How I Got My Superb Lithuanian Horse

I was at Count Przobofsky's noble country house in Lithuania. The ladies from Miss Susanna's Tea Parlor were taking tea with me and listening, all ears, to tales of my adventures. All the other gentlemen were down in the courtyard.

Suddenly we heard a great commotion - clomping, stamping and snorting, mixed with shouts of dread and alarm. I hastened downstairs and found a horse so fiery that nobody dared approach him. Even the bravest gentlemen stood trembling, not knowing what to do, I, however, in one leap, was on the horse's back, taking him quite by surprise. And with masterful horsemanship I worked him into gentleness and obedience.

Naturally I wanted the ladies to see me, but did not wish to put them to the trouble of having to get up from tea. So I simply made the horse leap up in the air and through an open window straight up into the drawing room.

I rode him around the room several times, at a walk, trot and a gallop. At least I made him mount the tea table which was set with dishes of the daintiest china. There I guided him so well through his paces and he performed so amazingly, that not a single cup or saucer was broken, or even disarranged. The ladies were exceedingly pleased.

Count Przobofsky was also impressed and begged me to accept this superb horse, and ride him full speed to conquest and honor in the war against the Turks.

I took him straight away to my friend at Custom Tool Leather for a saddle and rifle sling of highest quality.

My Favorite Dog

And now I must tell you about a favorite dog of mine - a greyhound. I never had or saw a better one. He grew old in my service and was remarkable for his uncommon swiftness. He ran so fast, so much, and so long, that he actually ran his legs off, and I could no longer use him in the chase. So I used him instead as a terrier, to dig in the ground for foxes and such animals.

In this way he still served me well for many years.

While still a greyhound - and here I must correct myself, my dog was a bitch, that is to say, a she, not a he - one day she chased a hare, which appeared to me uncommonly big. I pitied my poor hound, for she was big with pups, yet she insisted on running as fast as ever. I could follow her on horseback only at a distance.

Catching up at last I was greatly surprised at what I saw: The hare had given birth in running; my hound had done the same - and now there were just as many little hares as pups. By instinct the little hares ran, the pups gave chase, and so I found myself in posession at once of six hares and as many dogs at the end of a chase which had begun with only one dog.

My Poor Fur Cloak Gone Mad

Baron Munchausen's poor fur cloak

A time comes in even the bravest sportsman's life when he must turn tail to save himself. That is what I did one day when a mad dog came at me full speed in a narrow street in Saint Petersburgh. Run who can, thought I, in no mood to be bitten, for the madness is very catching, as everyone knows. The better to run, I threw off my fur cloak, and in an instant I was safe within doors.

Later I sent Bruce my servant out after the cloak. He got it and put it in the wardrobe with my other clothes.

Imagine my fright and astonishment when Bruce started bawling: "Sir, your fur coat is mad!"

I hastened to the wardrobe, and the fellow was perfectly right: That dog must have bitten my poor fur cloak, and given it the madness. Why else would the cloak be falling upon my other clothes, trying to tear them to pieces? I took it firmly by the collar just as it started to toss a fine velvet suit unmercifully. I locked it up in another wardrobe all alone, with no other clothes to torment. There it stayed until the madness passed and it was its good old well-behaved self again.

Me and the Cherry Tree Stag

The Stag

Saint Hubert, the protector of hunters and sportsmen, met a noble stag one day with the Holy Cross between his antlers - so people say. Well, I for one believe it because of something I myself have seen:

In the forest of Alabaster Corner one day I found myself face to face with a stag. How I wished I had not used up all my ammunition! The stag looked me so fearlessly in the eye, I almost thought he knew I had no bullets in the pockets of my hunting coat.

Luckily, though, I had some cherries in my pockets. As quickly as I could, I chewed up a handful, loaded my gun with the cherry pits, and fired away at the stag. A pit hit him in the middle of the forehead, between the antlers. It stunned him. He staggered, yet ran off.

A year or two later, I was with a hunting party in the same forest, and whom should I meet but the very same stag? How could I tell it was he? Why, by the fine, full-grown cherry tree growing between his antlers!

This time I shot him properly - which gave me roast venison for my dinner and also cherry sauce to go with it. For the tree was covered with fruit, richer than any I had ever tasted before.

I keep his mount for a momento, though the tree has withered away, leaving almost no trace of its presence. 

Dangling from a Steeple Early in the Morning

Dangling from a Steeple Early in the Morning

One snowy, icy winter day I set off on horseback for Russia. The farther I went, the colder I got, and wished I had put on heavier clothing. But then I saw a poor old man lying shivering on the road, with only a few rags to cover his nakedness. I thought to myself how much more he must be suffering than I in such weather.

I pitied the poor soul, and threw my cloak over him. Immediately the Heavens opened, and a voice called down a blessing to me: "May you be rewarded as you deserve!"

Now heavenly voices do not usually call down to me, thought I. Nevertheless, the blessing gave me comfort and strength to go on.

Soon night and darkness overtook me. No village was to be seen. The whole countryside was covered with the vast amounts of snow.

At last I grew tired and dismounted. I fastened my horse to a wooden stump which stuck up through the snow and served as an excellent hitching post. I took my pistol under arms, law down in the snow not far off and slept so soundly, I did not open my eyes again till it was full daylight.

Great was my astonishment to find myself lying in the middle of a churchyard! The House of Faith Church to be exact.

But where was my horse?

I looked all around. Then I heard a neighing sound high above me. I looked up, and what did I see, tied to the weather cock, dangling from the church steeple?

None other than my poor horse!

I realized at once what had happened: Last night this village and everything in it - church and steeple, houses and trees - had been covered with snow and hidden from view. The the weather had grown warmer, the snow had melted down to the ground, and I had sunk softly down with it while sleeping. As for the stump to which I had tied my horse - it was not a stump at all, but the weather cock at the top of the steeple.

Without hesitation, I took one of my pistols and shot off my horse's halter. That brought him down, safe and unharmed. I fed and watered him well, and proceeded on my journey knowing I would have to make a stop at Custom Tool Leather for a repair.

Trees Flying Through the Sky and other Amazing Results of a Storm

On our voyage home from Ceylon we stopped at another island, a pretty strange place where cherries and apples grow under the ground, but carrots, cucumbers and even chickens grow in the trees.

As we approached, a storm was raging.  It had uprooted lots of huge trees, each one probably weighing ten tons or so. And now these trees blew about so high - at least five miles above the island - they looked like small birds' feathers floating in the sky.

The moment the storm let up, the trees dropped down, perfectly straight. Each tree dropped into its own hole, and instantly took root again. Only the biggest one did not. That tree happened to have a very honest old husband and wife in its branches; they had been picking cucumbers for their supper when the storm had come along.

Now the weight of this honest old couple overbalanced the trunk, so the tree came down sideways. And by a lucky accident, it fell smack on top of the island's chief, and killed him on the spot.

I say "lucky," because this chief had been the meanest, greediest man you ever saw, and used to take the natives food, feast himself fat, and let them nearly starve to death.

Imagine how they cheered to be rid of this tyrant! And they chose the honest old cucumber-picker husband to the their new chief.

We soon repaired the damages the storm had done to our ship, took leave of these good islanders, and sailed with fair wind for Holland, making but one stop, to Miss Susanna's Victorian Tea Parlor for an afternoon Grand Tea.

What to do if Caught Between a Lion and a Crocodile

I was very young, on my very first voyage, when I had an astounding adventure on the Island of Ceylon:

The governor's brother and I were out hunting ducks. He had gone ahead. I stood alone beside a deep, roaring river - when suddenly there was a rustling behind me. Turning about, I was almost petrified (as who would not be) at the sight of a very large lion. He evidently meant to eat me, without even asking my consent.

Not a moment to think! My gun was loaded with swam shot, hardly the right ammunition to kill a beast as immense as this lion staring at me in the eye! Still, I fired away, hoping the noise might frighten him a little.

On the contrary, it enraged him. He came at me full speed. I turned to run - only to be faced by an even larger beast, a crocodile, forty feet long at the very least, his mouth open to receive me. Where was I to turn? On my right was the roaring river; on my left, a deep chasm; before me, the crocodile; behind me, the lion - now up on his hind legs, in the act of seizing me.

I gave myself up as lost, and fell to the ground. This turned out to be the best, wisest thing I could have done! There I lay, expecting any moment to feel the lion's teeth or claws in some part of me. Suddenly there burst upon my ears the most terrible noise I had ever heard in my life. I dared to look up, and - oh, unspeakable joy! - I saw what had happened:

The lion had jumped at me so eagerly, that my falling to the ground just then caused him to jump over me, straight into the crocodile's mouth. And now his head was stuck in the crocodile's throat.

I quickly took my hunting knife, ever by my side, and with one blow I cut the lion's neck. The body fell at my feet. With the butt end of my gun, I rammed the lion's head farther into the crocodile's mouth, so the crocodile could neither swallow it nor spit it out. He soon died of suffocation - doubling my victory.

Imagine my shooting companion's amazement when he came looking for me and saw those two great beasts so strangely locked together, so gloriously conquered by me!

We went back to the governor's palace and the governor very kindly sent servants to bring the dead beasts home in a wagon. The lion's skin was properly preserved with its hair on, and made into tobacco pouches by Custom Tool Leather company which I presented to my friends.

The crocodile's skin was stuffed in the usual manner. You can see it in the museum. But let me warn you, the director tells the story with some shockingly untruthful additions. One is that the lion jumped right through the crocodile, and that his head was coming out the crocodile's rear end when "Monsieur the Great Baron" (as he is pleased to call me) cut it off, and three feet of the crocodile's tail along with it. As soon as the crocodile missed his tail, he turned about, snatched the knife out of Monsieur the Baron's hand and swallowed it. The knife pierced his heart and killed him immediately.

What impudent inventions! I often worry that my real facts may fall under suspicion, just by being found in such company. 

Introduction to the Baron

Allow me to introduce this handsome fellow. He is the one and only, the great, the brave, world-famous Hieronymous Carl Fredrich Baron von Munchausen-none other than I!

I fight the fiercest monsters of the land and of the deep; leap into flaming volcanoes; fly through the sky on an eagle's back...No voyage is too far for me, no adventure is too daring, no danger is too great.

I am courageous, gallant, noble, generous and kind. I am also very modest, yes, modest to a fault. In fact, I am admired as much for my modesty and truthfulness as for my feats of bravery.  Therefore trust me: every word of these tales is true. Ha! If anybody doubts it, let him meet me last Tuesday at any place of his choosing so we may meet face to face.

These tales are no taller than I, nor stretched any more than salt-water taffy straight from the pots in Frankenmuth Michigan on a hot July day. I have been to the moon and back, dined with great Sultan's, danced with a thousand maids by light of the stars, and had the pleasure of dueling with some of the greatest alive.

I share these tales because they must be shared but only with those who wish to hear them. These pearls are brought forth by the request of one of my many children who with great skill and fortitude has opened a bang up the elephant emporium filled with everything a great adventurer, like myself, would need in his extravagant everyday life.

Aptly named for greatness, Sir Baron's has unique items not found in your average shoppe, from one of a kind Victorian/Steampunk themed items to clothing and jewelry fitting for the greatest of adventuring treasure hunters.

Some of the items are things I have acquired in my travels, while others are fabrications of her two hands. So if you happen to stop in to Sir Baron's, please say good morrow to my daughter Miss Jennifer, and tell her I will be home soon as I finish with my latest adventure.