Chapter 20

4. The poem is written partially in dialect. Explain what "dialect" is. What other poems do you know that are in dialect?

5. J. T. Trowbridge (1827-1916) was a clever American writer of verse and fiction, chiefly boys' books. Can you find anything of interest about him?

AUNT DOLEFUL'S VISIT

How do you do, Cornelia? I heard you were sick, and I stepped in to cheer you up a little. My friends often say, "It's such a comfort to see you, Aunt Doleful. You have such a flow of conversation, and are _so_ lively." Besides, I said to myself as I came up the stairs, "Perhaps 5 it's the last time I'll ever see Cornelia Jane alive."

_You don't mean to die yet, eh?_ Well, now, how do you know? You can't tell. You think you are getting better; but there was poor Mrs. Jones sitting up, and everyone saying how smart she was, and all of a sudden she was taken 10 with spasms in the heart and went off like a flash.

But you must be careful and not get anxious or excited. Keep quite calm and don't fret about anything. Of course things can't go just as if you were downstairs; and I wondered whether you knew your little Billy was sailing about in a tub on the mill pond, and that your little Sammy 5 was letting your little Jimmy down from the veranda roof in a clothes basket.

Goodness! what's the matter? I guess Providence'll take care of them. Don't look so. You thought Bridget was watching them? Well, no, she isn't. I saw her talking 10 to a man at the gate. He looked to me like a burglar. No doubt she let him take the impression of the door key in wax, and then he'll get in and murder you all. There was a family at Murray Hill all killed last week.

How is Mr. Kobble? Well, but finds it warm in town, eh? 15 Well, I should think he would. They are dropping down by hundreds there with sunstroke. You must prepare your mind to have him brought home any day. Anyhow, a trip on these railroad trains is just risking your life every time you take one. Back and forth every day as he is, 20 is just trifling with danger.

Scarlet fever has broken out in the village, Cornelia. Little Isaac Potter has it, and I saw your Jimmy playing with him last Saturday.

Well, I must be going now. I've got another sick 25 friend, and I sha'n't consider my duty done unless I cheer her up a little before I sleep. You don't look so well as you did when I came in. But if anything happens, send for me at once. If I can't do anything else, I can cheer you up a little.

1. This is an old, favorite recitation. What do you think of this type of humor as compared with Mark Twain's?

GRADGRIND'S IDEA OF EDUCATION

BY CHARLES DICKENS

Thomas Gradgrind was proud of himself. He was a "self-made" man who attributed his own successes in life to his mastery of Facts. He is here represented as officially testing a school upon its knowledge of his favorite Facts.

"Now what I want is Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts; nothing else will ever be of any service to them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own 5 children. Stick to Facts, sir; nothing but Facts."

The speaker, and the schoolmaster, and the third grown person present, all backed a little and swept with their eyes the inclined plane of little vessels then and there arranged in order, ready to have gallons of facts poured into them 10 until they were full to the brim.

Thomas Gradgrind, sir. A man of realities. A man of facts and calculations. A man who proceeds upon the principle that two and two are four and nothing over, and who is not to be talked into allowing for anything over. 15 Thomas Gradgrind, sir, with a rule and a pair of scales and the multiplication table always in his pocket, sir, ready to weigh and measure any parcel of human nature and tell you exactly what it comes to.

It is a mere question of figures, a case of simple arithmetic. 20 You might hope to get some other nonsensical belief into the head of George Gradgrind, or Augustus Gradgrind, or John Gradgrind, or Joseph Gradgrind; but into the head of Thomas Gradgrind--no, sir!

Indeed, he seemed to be a kind of cannon loaded to the muzzle with facts.

"Girl number twenty," said Mr. Gradgrind, squarely 5 pointing with his square forefinger. "I don't know that girl. Who is that girl?"

"Sissy Jupe, sir," explained number twenty, blushing, standing up, and curtsying.

"Sissy is not a name," said Mr. Gradgrind. "Don't 10 call yourself Sissy. Call yourself Cecilia."

"Father calls me Sissy, sir," returned the young girl in a trembling voice and with another curtsy.

"Then he has no business to do it," said Mr. Gradgrind. "Tell him he mustn't. Cecilia Jupe. Let me see. What 15 is your father?"

"He belongs to the horse riding, if you please, sir."

Mr. Gradgrind frowned, and waved off the objectionable calling with his hand.

"We don't want to know anything about that, here. 20 You mustn't tell us about that, here. Your father breaks horses, don't he?"

"If you please, sir, when they can get any to break, they do break horses in the ring, sir."

"You mustn't tell us about the ring, here. Very well, 25 then. Describe your father as a horse breaker. He doctors sick horses, I dare say."

"Oh, yes, sir!"

"Very well, then. He is a veterinary surgeon, a farrier, and a horse breaker. Give me your definition of a horse." 30

Sissy Jupe was thrown into the greatest alarm by this demand.

"Girl number twenty unable to define a horse!" said Mr. Gradgrind. "Girl number twenty possessed of no facts in reference to one of the commonest of animals! Some boy's definition of a horse. Bitzer, yours."

The square finger, moving here and there, lighted suddenly 5 on Bitzer, perhaps because he chanced to sit in the same ray of sunlight which irradiated Sissy.

"Bitzer," said Thomas Gradgrind, "your definition of a horse."

"Quadruped. Graminivorous. Forty teeth: namely, 10 twenty-four grinders, four eyeteeth, and twelve incisors. Sheds coat in the spring; in marshy countries, sheds hoofs too. Hoofs hard, but requiring to be shod with iron. Age known by marks in the mouth."

"Now, girl number twenty," said Mr. Gradgrind, "you 15 know what a horse is."

She curtsied again and would have blushed deeper, if she could have blushed deeper than she had blushed all this time.

The third gentleman now stepped forth. A mighty man at 20 cutting and drying, was he; a government officer; always in training, always with a system to force down the general throat, always to be heard of at the bar of his little public office.

"Very well," said this gentleman briskly, smiling and 25 folding his arms. "That's a horse. Now, let me ask you, girls and boys, would you paper a room with representations of horses?"

After a pause, one half the children cried in a chorus, "Yes, sir!" Upon which the other half, seeing in the 30 gentleman's face that "yes" was wrong, cried out in a chorus, "No, sir!"--as the custom is in these examinations.

"Of course not. Why wouldn't you?"

A pause. One corpulent slow boy, with a wheezy manner of breathing, ventured to answer, "Because I wouldn't paper a room at all; I'd paint it."

"You _must_ paper it," said the gentleman rather warmly. 5

"Yes, you must paper it," said Thomas Gradgrind, "whether you like it or not. Don't tell _us_ you wouldn't paper it. What do you mean, boy?"

"I'll explain to you, then," said the gentleman, after a dismal pause, "why you wouldn't paper a room with representations 10 of horses. Do you ever see horses walking up and down the sides of a room in reality--in fact? Do you?"

"Yes, sir!" from one half. "No, sir!" from the other.

"Of course not," said the gentleman, with an indignant 15 look at the wrong half. "Why, then, you are not to see anywhere what you don't see in fact; you are not to have anywhere what you don't have in fact. What is called taste is only another name for fact. This is a new principle, a discovery, a great discovery," said the gentleman. "Now 20 I'll try you again. Suppose you were going to carpet a room, would you use a carpet having a representation of flowers upon it?"

There being a general conviction by this time that "No, sir!" was always the right answer to this gentleman, the 25 chorus of "No," was very strong. Only a few feeble stragglers said, "Yes"; among them Sissy Jupe.

"Girl number twenty," said the gentleman, smiling in the calm strength of knowledge.

Sissy blushed and stood up. 30

"So you would carpet your room with representations of flowers, would you?" said the gentleman. "Why?"

"If you please, sir, I am very fond of flowers," returned the girl.

"And is that why you would put tables and chairs upon them and have people walking over them with heavy boots?" 5

"It wouldn't hurt them, sir. They wouldn't crush and, wither, if you please, sir. They would be the pictures of what was very pretty and pleasant, and I fancy--"

"Aye, aye, aye! But you mustn't fancy," cried the gentleman, quite elated by coming so happily to his point. 10 "That's it! You are never to fancy."

"You are not, Cecilia Jupe," Thomas Gradgrind solemnly repeated, "to do anything of that kind."

"You are to be in all things regulated and governed," said the gentleman, "by Fact. You must discard the word 15 'fancy' altogether. You have nothing to do with it. You don't walk upon flowers in fact; you cannot be allowed to walk upon flowers in carpets. You never meet with quadrupeds going up and down the walls; you must not have quadrupeds represented upon the walls. You must 20 use," said the gentleman, "for all these purposes, combinations and modifications (in primary colors) of mathematical figures which are susceptible of proof and demonstration. This is the new discovery. This is Fact. This is taste." 25

--_Hard Times._

1. Make a list of adjectives that fit the character of Gradgrind.

2. Does Dickens agree with Gradgrind's ideas of teaching? Prove your answer. Define irony; sarcasm. Does either of these words apply to Dickens's presentation of Gradgrind?

3. What do you think of Gradgrind's theories? How far do you agree with him? In what do you disagree?

THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE, OR THE WONDERFUL "ONE-HOSS SHAY"

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894) was born at Cambridge, Mass. Although he practiced his profession of medicine, was Professor of Anatomy and Physiology at the Harvard Medical School, and wrote some scientific works, he is best known as the author of poems and essays, mostly humorous, light, and fanciful. He was very popular in his time as a witty conversationalist and a brilliant speech maker.

Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way? It ran a hundred years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it--ah, but stay, I'll tell you what happened without delay-- 5 Scaring the parson into fits, Frightening people out of their wits-- Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five. _Georgius Secundus_ was then alive-- 10 Snuffy old drone from the German hive. That was the year when Lisbon town Saw the earth open and gulp her down, And Braddock's army was done so brown, Left without a scalp to its crown. 15 It was on the terrible Earthquake day That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

Now in building of chaises I tell you what, There is always _somewhere_ a weakest spot-- In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, In panel or crossbar or floor or sill, In screw, bolt, thorough-brace,--lurking still, 5 Find it somewhere you must and will-- Above or below or within or without-- And that's the reason, beyond a doubt, A chaise _breaks down_, but doesn't _wear out_.

But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, 10 With an "I dew vum" or an "I tell _yeou_") He would build one shay to beat the taown 'N' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun'; It should be so built that it _couldn't_ break daown.

"Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's mighty plain 15 Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain; 'N' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain, Is only jest T' make that place uz strong uz the rest."

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk 20 Where he could find the strongest oak, That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke-- That was for spokes and floor and sills; He sent for lancewood to make the thills; The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees 25 The panels of whitewood, that cuts like cheese But lasts like iron for things like these; The hubs, of logs from the "Settler's ellum"-- Last of its timber--they couldn't sell 'em--

Never an ax had seen their chips, And the wedges flew from between their lips, Their blunt ends frizzled like celery tips; Step and prop iron, bolt and screw, Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too, 5 Steel of the finest, bright and blue; Thorough-brace, bison skin, thick and wide; Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide Found in the pit when the tanner died. That was the way he "put her through." 10 "There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew!"

Do! I tell you, I rather guess She was a wonder, and nothing less! Colts grew horses, beards turned gray, Deacon and deaconess dropped away, 15 Children and grandchildren--where were they? But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay, As fresh as on Lisbon-Earthquake day!

_Eighteen hundred_--it came and found The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound. 20 Eighteen hundred increased by ten-- "Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then. Eighteen hundred and twenty came-- Running as usual; much the same. Thirty and Forty at last arrive, 25 And then come Fifty--and _Fifty-five_.

Little of all we value here Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year Without both feeling and looking queer.

In fact there's nothing that keeps its youth, So far as I know, but a tree and truth. (This is a moral that runs at large; Take it.--You're welcome.--No extra charge.)

_First of November_--the Earthquake day-- 5 There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay, A general flavor of mild decay, But nothing local, as one may say. There couldn't be--for the Deacon's art Had made it so like in every part 10 That there wasn't a chance for one to start.

For the wheels were just as strong as the thills, And the floor was just as strong as the sills, And the panels just as strong as the floor, And the whippletree neither less nor more, 15 And the back crossbar as strong as the fore, And spring, and axle, and hub _encore_. And yet, _as a whole_, it is past a doubt In another hour it will be _worn out_!

First of November, Fifty-five! 20 This morning the parson takes a drive. Now, small boys, get out of the way! Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay, Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay. "Huddup!" said the parson.--Off went they. 25

The parson was working his Sunday's text-- Had got to _fifthly_, and stopped perplexed At what the--Moses--was coming next.

All at once the horse stood still, Close by the meet'n'house on the hill. First a shiver, and then a thrill, Then something decidedly like a spill-- And the parson was sitting upon a rock, 5 At half past nine by the meet'n'house clock-- Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!

What do you think the parson found When he got up and stared around? The poor old chaise in a heap, or mound, 10 As if it had been to the mill and ground! You see, of course, if you're not a dunce, How it went to pieces all at once-- All at once, and nothing first-- Just as bubbles do when they burst. 15

End of the wonderful one-hoss shay. Logic is logic. That's all I say.

1. What kind of vehicle did the Deacon build? What was his theory as to building a "shay"?

2. How did he carry out his theory? Read the passages that answer this question. Make a list of the special parts of the chaise named.

3. On what day did the Deacon complete his task? Is Holmes correct as to the dates of Braddock's defeat and the Lisbon earthquake?

4. Explain lines 10-11, page 286; 8, 17, 27, page 289; 17, page 290.

5. What happened finally to the "masterpiece"? Was the Deacon still living? How did the chaise happen to go to pieces? Was the Deacon's theory of building correct?

6. Suggested readings: Holmes's "How the Old Horse Won the Bet"; Lowell's "The Courtin'."

THE SCHOOLMASTER'S RIDE

BY WASHINGTON IRVING

The time of this story is post-Revolutionary. Ichabod Crane, a lean, awkward schoolmaster, has been courting the village belle, Katrina Van Tassel, his rival being Brom Bones, a powerful fellow, noted for his pugnacity. He has frequently threatened Ichabod for aspiring to the charming Katrina. Here, Ichabod, at a late hour, is leaving the Van Tassel home after a "quilting frolic" where he took occasion to propose to Katrina. Judge of the young lady's answer!

Ichabod, heavy-hearted and crestfallen, pursued his travel homewards, along the sides of the lofty hills which rise above Tarrytown. The hour was as dismal as himself. Far below him the Tappan Zee spread its dusky and indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the 5 tall mast of a sloop riding quietly at anchor under the land. In the dead hush of midnight he could even hear the barking of the watchdog from the opposite shore of the Hudson; but it was so vague and faint as only to give an idea of his great distance from this faithful companion of 10 man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off, from some farmhouse away among the hills. No signs of life occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholy chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bullfrog 15 from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably and turning suddenly in his bed.

The night grew darker and darker, the stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and 20 dismal. In the center of the road stood an enormous tulip tree, which towered like a giant above all the other trees of the neighborhood and formed a kind of landmark. It was connected with the tragical story of the unfortunate André, who had been taken prisoner hard by, and was 5 universally known by the name of Major André's Tree. The common people regarded it with a mixture of respect and superstition.

As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to whistle. He thought his whistle was answered. It was 10 but a blast sweeping through the dry branches. As he approached a little nearer, he thought he saw something white hanging in the midst of the tree. He paused and ceased whistling; but on looking more narrowly, perceived that it was a place where the tree had been scathed by 15 lightning and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard a groan. His teeth chattered, and his knees smote against the saddle. It was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon another as they were swayed about by the breeze. He passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him. 20

About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook crossed the road and ran into a marshy and thickly wooded glen, known by the name of Wiley's Swamp. A few rough logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream. To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was at this 25 identical spot that the unfortunate André was captured, and this has ever since been considered a haunted stream, and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who has to pass it alone after dark.

As he approached the stream his heart began to thump. 30 He summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave his horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to dash briskly across the bridge. But instead of starting forward, the perverse old animal made a lateral movement and ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased with the delay, jerked the reins on the other side and kicked lustily with the contrary foot. It was all in 5 vain. His steed started, it is true, but it was only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket of brambles and alder bushes.

The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed 10 forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just by the bridge with a suddenness which had nearly sent his rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp on the bank of the stream, by the side of the bridge, caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the 15 dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the murmuring brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathering up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveler. 20

The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. What was to be done? To turn and fly was now too late. Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he demanded, in stammering tones, "_Who are you?_" He received no reply. 25

He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgeled the sides of the inflexible Gunpowder, and shutting his eyes, broke forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a 30 scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road.