challenge, perhaps fight, followed by friendship and play. No wonder
that with pup-boys the pup-dog is so completely at one; his code
is their code, and whither they go he goes--except to school. With
September come the dull days for him. No more the hordes of pirates
and bandits with bandanas and peaked hats, belts stuck full of dirks
and “ottermaticks,” sweep up and down the sidewalk on bicycles in open
defiance of the law, raiding lawns and gardens, scattering shrieking
tea-parties of little girls and dolls, haling them aboard the lugger
in the next lot and holding them for fabulous ransom. There is always
some one who will pay it with an imposing check signed “Theodore Wilson
Roosevelt Woodrow Rockefeller.” He prances with flopping ears beside
the flying wheels, crouches in ambush, gives tongue in the raid, flies
at the victims and tears their frocks, mounts guard in the cave, and
shares the bandits' last cookie.
But when the pirates become orderly citizens, his day begins after
school and ends with supper. With his paws on the window-sill, his nose
making misty spots on the glass, he watches them as they march away in
the morning, then he makes a perfunctory round of the neighborhood,
inspecting garbage-pails and unwary cats. After that there is nothing
to do but relax in the September sunshine and exist in a coma till
the pirates return and resume their normal functions, except for his
routine attempt to intimidate the postman and the iceman. Perhaps he
might succeed some happy day; who knows?
The pup-dog in the open is the best of companions; his exuberant
vitality and unquenchable zest for things in general give him endless
variety. There are times, perhaps, when you see little of him; he uses
you as a mobile base of operations, and runs an epicycloidal course
with you as moving center, showing only a flash of his tail on one
horizon or the flop of his ears on the other. You hear his wild cries
of excitement when he starts a squirrel or a rabbit. By rare luck you
may be called in time to referee a fight with a woodchuck, or once in a
happy dog's age you may see him, a khaki streak through the underbrush,
in pursuit of a fox.
At last you hear the drumming of his feet on the road behind you; he
shoots past before he can shift gears, wheels, and lands a running jump
on your diaphragm by way of reporting present for duty. Thereafter
he sticks a little closer, popping out into the road or showing his
tousled face through the leaves at intervals of two or three hundred
yards to make sure that you are still on the planet. Then you may
enjoy his indefatigable industry in counting with his nose, his tail
quivering with delight, the chinks of old stone walls. You may light
your pipe and sit by for an hour as he energetically follows his family
tradition in digging under an old stump, shooting the sand out behind
with kangaroo strokes, tugging at the roots with his teeth, and pausing
from time to time to grin at you with a yard of pink tongue completely
surrounded by leaf mold. You may admire his zeal as inspector of
chipmunks, mice, frogs, grasshoppers, crickets, and such small deer.
Anything that lives and tries to get away from him is fair game
except chickens. If round the turn of the road he plumps into a hen
convention, memories of bitter humiliations surge up within him, and he
blushes, and turns his face aside. Other dogs he meets with tentative
growling, bristling, and tail-wagging, by way of asserting that he will
take them on any terms they like; fight or frolic, it is all one to him.
You cannot win his allegiance by feeding him, though he always has his
bit of blarney ready for the cook. He loves all members of the family
with nice discrimination for their weaknesses: the pup-boy who cannot
resist an invitation to romp; the pup-girl who cannot withstand begging
blandishments of nose and paw, but will subvert discipline and share
food with him whenever and wherever she has it. He will welcome with
leapings and gyrations any one of them after a day's absence or an
hour's, but his whole-souled allegiance is to the head of the house;
his is the one voice that speaks with authority; his the first welcome
always when the family returns in a group. That loyalty, burning bright
and true to the last spark of life, that unfailing welcome on which a
man can count more surely than on any human love--indeed, there is no
secret in a man's love for a dog, however we may wonder at the dog's
love for the man. Let Argos and Ulysses[1] stand as the type of it,
though to me it lacks something of the ideal, not in the image of the
dog, but in the conduct of the man. Were I disguised for peril of my
life, and my dog, after the wanderings and dangers of many years,
lifted his head and knew me and then died, I think no craft could
withhold my feelings from betraying me.
“Dogs know their friends,” we say, as if there were mystery in the
knowledge. The password of the fraternity is not hidden; you may hear
it anywhere. It was spoken at my own hearth when the pup-dog, wet
with autumn rain, thrust himself between my guest and the andirons
and began to steam. My guest checked my remonstrance. “Don't disturb
him on my account, you know. I rather like the smell of a wet dog,”
he added apologetically. The word revealed a background that made the
speaker at once and forever my guest-friend. In it I saw boy and dog in
rain and snow on wet trails, their camp in narrow shelter, where they
snuggle together with all in common that they have of food and warmth.
He who shared his boyhood with a pup-dog will always share whatever
is his with members of the fraternity. He will value the wagging of
a stubby tail above all dog-show points and parlor tricks. He will
not be rash to chide affectionate importunity, nor to set for his dog
higher standards than he upholds for himself. Do you never nurse a
grouch and express it in appropriate language? Do you never take direct
action when your feelings get away with you? When the like befalls the
pup-dog, have ready for him such sympathy as he has always ready for
you in your moods. Treat him as an equal, and you will get from him
human and imperfect results.
You will never know exactly what your pup-dog gets from you; he tries
wistfully to tell you, but leaves you still wondering. But you may have
from him a share of his perennial puphood, and you do well to accept
it gratefully whenever he offers it. Take it when it comes, though the
moment seem inopportune. You may be roused just as you settle for a
nap by a moist nose thrust into your hand, two rough brown paws on the
edge of your bunk, a pair of bright eyes peering through a jute fringe.
Up he comes, steps over you, and settles down between you and the
wall with a sigh. Then, if you shut your eyes, you will find that you
are not far from that place up on the hill--the big rock and the two
oaks--where the pup-boy that used to be you used to snuggle down with
that first old pup-dog you ever had.
SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS
1. What is the effect of the title?
2. How does Mr. Utter make us love the dog?
3. What knowledge of dog life does the writer show?
4. Point out words or expressions that are usually applied only to
human beings, that are here applied to dogs.
5. Point out adjective effects.
6. How does the writer make the dog seem amusing?
7. How does the writer make the dog seem admirable?
8. What human characteristics are attributed to the dog?
9. Point out noteworthy examples of humor.
10. Show how the writer employs detail as a means of emphasis.
11. Point out examples of especially effective metaphor.
12. What is said concerning the pup-boy and the pup-girl?
13. How does the essay make us feel toward dogs?
14. What is the effect of the closing sentences?
SUBJECTS FOR WRITTEN IMITATION
1. My Dog 11. Cats
2. Lap Dogs 12. Kittens
3. Police Dogs 13. Rabbits
4. Hounds 14. Mice
5. Shepherd Dogs 15. Squirrels
6. Boston Bulls 16. Horses
7. Great Danes 17. Robins
8. Newfoundland Dogs 18. Sea Gulls
9. Greyhounds 19. Cows
10. Stray Dogs 20. Fish
DIRECTIONS FOR WRITING
Select for your subject some animal with which you are intimately
familiar, and in which you are especially and sympathetically
interested. Write about that animal in such a way that you will
bring to the surface its most humorous qualities and its most
admirable qualities. Give a great number of details concerning the
animal's habits, but give those details in a gossipy manner. Use
quotations, if you can, or make allusions to books. Make all your work
emphasize goodness. Make your closing paragraph your most effective
paragraph,--one that will appeal to sentiment.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] According to Homer's _Odyssey_ when Ulysses returned after many
years of wandering, his old dog “Argos” recognized him, even in
disguise.
CHEWING GUM[2]
By CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER
_(1829-1900). A celebrated American essayist and editor. For many
years he wrote brilliant papers for_ Harper's Magazine _in the
departments called “The Editor's Drawer” and “The Editor's Study.”
He became the first President of the National Institute of Arts
and Letters. He was a great influence for good. Among his books
are_ My Summer in a Garden; Back-Log Studies; In the Wilderness;
The Relation of Literature to Life; As We Were Saying; Their
Pilgrimage. _He edited the valuable “American Men of Letters
Series,” and the remarkable work called_ Library of the World's
Best Literature, _a collection of extracts from the world's
literature, with which every student should be acquainted._
=The familiar essay takes for its subject anything that awakens the
interest of the essayist. Charles Dudley Warner wrote with freedom
and humor on a great number of subjects that in themselves suggest
light and humorous treatment rather than serious thinking. Among
his many informal essays is the one that follows, entitled _Chewing
Gum_.=
=What Mr. Warner says in the essay is by no means serious. It is
like the spoken reflections of an amused observer who has had his
attention attracted to the common American habit of chewing gum in
public. At the same time, under the kindly and facetious remarks,
is an undercurrent of satire--and satire means criticism.=
In language that is unfortunately understood by the greater portion
of the people who speak English, thousands are saying on the first
of January, a far-off date that it is wonderful any one has lived to
see--“Let us have a new deal!” It is a natural exclamation, and does
not necessarily mean any change of purpose. It always seems to a man
that if he could shuffle the cards he could increase his advantages in
the game of life, and, to continue the figure which needs so little
explanation, it usually appears to him that he could play anybody
else's hand better than his own. In all the good resolutions of
the new year, then, it happens that perhaps the most sincere is the
determination to get a better hand. Many mistake this for repentance
and an intention to reform, when generally it is only the desire for
a new shuffle of the cards. Let us have a fresh pack and a new deal,
and start fair. It seems idle, therefore, for the moralist to indulge
in a homily about annual good intentions, and habits that ought to be
dropped or acquired, on the first of January. He can do little more
than comment on the passing show.
It will be admitted that if the world at this date is not socially
reformed it is not the fault of the Drawer,[3] and for the reason that
it has been not so much a critic as an explainer and encourager. It
is in the latter character that it undertakes to defend and justify
a national industry that has become very important within the past
ten years. A great deal of capital is invested in it, and millions of
people are actively employed in it. The varieties of chewing gum that
are manufactured would be a matter of surprise to those who have paid
no attention to the subject, and who may suppose that the millions of
mouths they see engaged in its mastication have a common and vulgar
taste. From the fact that it can be obtained at the apothecary's, an
impression has got abroad that it is medicinal. This is not true.
The medical profession do not use it, and what distinguishes it
from drugs--that they also do not use--is the fact that they do not
prescribe it. It is neither a narcotic nor a stimulant. It cannot
strictly be said to soothe or to excite. The habit of using it differs
totally from that of the chewing of tobacco or the dipping of snuff.
It might, by a purely mechanical operation, keep a person awake, but
no one could go to sleep chewing gum. It is in itself neither tonic
nor sedative. It is to be noticed also that the gum habit differs
from the tobacco habit in that the aromatic and elastic substance is
masticated, while the tobacco never is, and that the mastication leads
to nothing except more mastication. The task is one that can never be
finished. The amount of energy expended in this process if capitalized
or conserved would produce great results. Of course the individual does
little, but if the power evolved by the practice in a district school
could be utilized, it would suffice to run the kindergarten department.
The writer has seen a railway car--say in the West--filled with young
women, nearly every one of whose jaws and pretty mouths was engaged
in this pleasing occupation; and so much power was generated that it
would, if applied, have kept the car in motion if the steam had been
shut off--at least it would have furnished the motive for illuminating
the car by electricity.
This national industry is the subject of constant detraction, satire,
and ridicule by the newspaper press. This is because it is not
understood, and it may be because it is mainly a female accomplishment:
the few men who chew gum may be supposed to do so by reason of
gallantry. There might be no more sympathy with it in the press if
the real reason for the practice were understood, but it would be
treated more respectfully. Some have said that the practice arises from
nervousness--the idle desire to be busy without doing anything--and
because it fills up the pauses of vacuity in conversation. But this
would not fully account for the practice of it in solitude. Some
have regarded it as in obedience to the feminine instinct for the
cultivation of patience and self-denial--patience in a fruitless
activity, and self-denial in the eternal act of mastication without
swallowing. It is no more related to these virtues than it is to the
habit of the reflective cow in chewing her cud. The cow would never
chew gum. The explanation is a more philosophical one, and relates
to a great modern social movement. It is to strengthen and develop
and make more masculine the lower jaw. The critic who says that this
is needless, that the inclination in women to talk would adequately
develop this, misses the point altogether. Even if it could be proved
that women are greater chatterers than men, the critic would gain
nothing. Women have talked freely since creation, but it remains
true that a heavy, strong lower jaw is a distinctively masculine
characteristic. It is remarked that if a woman has a strong lower jaw
she is like a man. Conversation does not create this difference, nor
remove it; for the development of the lower jaw in women constant
mechanical exercise of the muscles is needed. Now, a spirit of
emancipation, of emulation, is abroad, as it ought to be, for the
regeneration of the world. It is sometimes called the coming to the
front of woman in every act and occupation that used to belong almost
exclusively to man. It is not necessary to say a word to justify this.
But it is often accompanied by a misconception, namely, that it is
necessary for woman to be like man, not only in habits, but in certain
physical characteristics. No woman desires a beard, because a beard
means care and trouble, and would detract from feminine beauty, but to
have a strong and, in appearance, a resolute underjaw may be considered
a desirable note of masculinity, and of masculine power and privilege,
in the good time coming. Hence the cultivation of it by the chewing of
gum is a recognizable and reasonable instinct, and the practice can
be defended as neither a whim nor a vain waste of energy and nervous
force. In a generation or two it may be laid aside as no longer
necessary, or men may be compelled to resort to it to preserve their
supremacy.
SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS
1. Why does the writer make use of some very colloquial
expressions?
2. Why did he use a number of long and somewhat formal words?
3. In what sense is the essay a New Year's essay?
4. Show how the author produces humor.
5. Show how the author avoids harshness of criticism.
6. What makes the essay forceful?
7. In what respects is the essay fantastic?
8. What advantage does the writer gain by appearing to support the
habit of chewing gum?
9. Point out examples of kindly satire.
10. What is the author's purpose?
SUBJECTS FOR WRITTEN IMITATION
1. Whistling 11. Teasing
2. Lateness 12. Crowding
3. Whispering 13. Rudeness
4. Giggling 14. Inquisitiveness
5. Writing notes 15. Untidiness
6. Complaining 16. Forgetfulness
7. Hurrying 17. Conceit
8. Carelessness 18. Obstinacy
9. Making excuses 19. Vanity
10. Borrowing 20. Impatience
DIRECTIONS FOR WRITING
You are to write of some habit that is common and that is more
or less annoying to well-bred people. Make your words, in mock
seriousness, appear to defend the habit that you ridicule. Make
your style of writing somewhat ponderous, as though you were
writing with the utmost gravity, but be sure to write in such a way
that your essay will convey your sense of the ridiculous. Let your
whole essay so ridicule the annoying habit that you will tend to
destroy it.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] From _As We Were Saying_, by Charles Dudley Warner. Copyright by
Harper and Brothers.
[3] Drawer. The _Editor's Drawer_ of _Harper's Magazine_ for which Mr.
Warner wrote many of his best essays.
THE MYSTERY OF AH SING
By ROBERT L. DUFFUS
_An editorial writer for the New York Globe, to which, on October
5, 1921, he contributed the following humorous editorial article._
=As we go about in daily life various people attract our attention;
their peculiarities amuse us, and we make semi-humorous but kindly
remarks concerning them. Such remarks are the germs of essays like
the following.=
=In the essay, _The Mystery of Ah Sing_, there is humor but not a
single unkind word. The essay makes us smile, but with sympathy and
understanding. Such essays, trivial as they may be, are restful and
pleasing.=
Ah Sing comes on Tuesdays to get the washing and on Saturdays to bring
it back. He is an urbane, smiling person, who appears to view life
impersonally and dispassionately. One would say that he realized that
the career of Ah Sing was not of prime importance in a population so
numerous and a universe so extensive. He loves to ask questions. How
old is the mistress of the house? Where did she come from? How much
does the master of the house earn? What does he do? Why haven't they
any children? Where did they get all the books and pictures?
Ah Sing always wants to know about the vacations, both before and
after taking, and looks intelligent when places like Nantucket and the
Thousand Islands are mentioned. He follows the family fortunes like an
old retainer, and seems to possess a kind of feudal loyalty. It would
be morally impossible, not to say physically, to give the washing to
any one but Ah Sing. He would come for it, and the mistress of the
house would sink through the floor with contrition and embarrassment.
He may die out of his job, or go back to China out of it, there to live
like a mandarin, but he will not be fired out of it. Never will he join
the army of unemployed; never will he stand humbly asking work. He is
a monopoly, an institution, a friend.
So far one gets with Ah Sing. To lose him would be like losing a
beloved pipe or a comfortable pair of slippers. He belongs amid the
furniture of living, and is as simple, homely, and admirable as
grandpa's picture on the wall. But what is Ah Sing thinking about? What
is going on across that gulf which separates him from us? How many
transmigrations must we all go through before we could know Ah Sing as
well as we know the family from Indiana which moved in next door last
week? How shall we penetrate to the soul of Ah Sing?
If we could answer these questions we could present ourselves forthwith
at Washington with the solution of the world's most vexatious problem.
But the answers are dark, Ah Sing is remote, and the East and the West
have not yet met.
SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS
1. In what respects is Ah Sing a mystery?
2. Why did the author write about Ah Sing?
3. What are Ah Sing's amusing characteristics?
4. What are Ah Sing's best characteristics?
5. Show that the author's language is original.
6. Show that the essay increases in effect toward the end.
7. How does the author avoid unkindness or satire?
8. How does the essay affect the reader?
SUBJECTS FOR WRITTEN IMITATION
1. The Janitor 11. Grandmother
2. The Peanut Man 12. The Milk Man
3. The Auctioneer 13. The Small Boy
4. The Blind Man 14. The Newspaper Man
5. The Tramp 15. The Usher
6. The Old Soldier 16. The Policeman
7. The Violin Player 17. The Street Sweeper
8. The Dancing Teacher 18. Mother
9. The Scrub Woman 19. The Neighbors
10. The Baby 20. Relatives
DIRECTIONS FOR WRITING
Write, with all kindness, about some one who amuses you. Do not include
in your essay anything that will be in the nature of fault-finding or
complaint. Point out, in a humorous way, the admirable and praiseworthy
characteristics of the person about whom you write. Instead of writing
a list of characteristics use original expressions that will indicate
the real spirit of the character.
OLD DOC
By OPIE READ
_(1852--). An American journalist, noted for his work as Editor of_
The Arkansas Traveller. _Among his books, most of which concern
life in Arkansas, are_: Len Gansett; My Young Master; An Arkansas
Planter; Up Terrapin River; A Kentucky Colonel; On the Suwanee
River; Miss Polly Lop; The Captain's Romance; The Jucklins.
=The character sketch is interesting for the same reason that gossip
is interesting: we notice our neighbors and are curious to learn
more about them. We are all sharp observers of our fellows. We see
their oddities, their cranks, and their amusing habits just as
clearly as we see their virtues. We laugh and we admire--in much
the same spirit that a mother laughs at her baby, however much she
loves it.=
=Character sketches have been popular for many centuries. Chaucer's
_Prologue_ to _The Canterbury Tales_ is really a series of
shrewdly-true character sketches keenly tipped with humor, and full
of genuine respect for goodness. Sir Thomas Overbury (1581-1613)
wrote a number of strongly pointed sketches of character. A hundred
years later Joseph Addison and Sir Richard Steele conceived the
whimsical, good-hearted Sir Roger de Coverley and his company of
associates.=
=Out of such work grew not only the character sketch of to-day but
also material for the short story and the novel.=
=Mr. Read's presentation of the country doctor of the Old South is a
striking example of the character sketch. Following the example set
by Addison in 1711 Mr. Read first describes the character and then
tells an anecdote that reveals personality. The entire sketch is
redolent with good-humor.=
His house was old, with cedar-trees about it, a big yard, and in the
corner a small office. In this professional hut there was only one
window, the glass of which was dim with dust blown from the road. In
the gentle breeze the lilacs and the roses swopped their perfume, while
the guinea-hen arose from her cool nest, dug beneath the dahlias,
to chase a katydid along the fence, and then with raucous cry to
shatter the silence. The furnishings of the office were less than
modest. In one corner a swayed bed threatened to fall, in another a
wash-stand stood epileptic on three legs. Nailed against the wall
was a protruding cabinet, giving off sick-room memories. The village
druggist, compounder of the essences of strange and peculiar “yarbs,”
might have bitter and pungent medicines, but Old Doc, himself an
extractor of wild juices, had discovered the secret of the swamp. To go
into his office and to come forth with no sign was a confession of the
loss of smell. Sheep-shearing fills the nostrils with woolly dullness,
but sheep-shearers could scent Old Doc as he drove along the road.