Now read it aloud with careful attention to naturalness of
expression. Study the historical allusions--"Georgius Secundus,"
"Lisbon town," "Braddock's army," "the Earthquake day," etc.
Read again the passages in which dialect expressions occur. Try to
speak these passages as the author intended them to be spoken.
Select the passages which appeal most strongly to your sense of
humor. Read them in such manner as to make their humorous quality
thoroughly appreciable to those who listen to you.
Now study the selection as a poem, comparing it with several
typical poems which you have already studied. Remembering your
definition of poetry (page 138), what is the real poetical value of
this delightful composition? Is it a true poem? Find some other
poems written by Dr. Holmes. Bring them to the class and read them
aloud.
Talk with your teacher about the life of Dr. Holmes and about his
prose and poetical works. As a poet, how does he compare with
Longfellow? with Whittier? with Walt Whitman? with Browning?
DOGS AND CATS[36]
Most people agree that the dog has intelligence, a heart, and possibly a
soul; on the other hand, they declare that the cat is a traitor, a
deceiver, an ingrate, a thief. How many persons have I heard say: "Oh, I
can't bear a cat! The cat has no love for its master; it cares only for
the house. I had one once, for I was living in the country, where there
were mice. One day the cook left on the kitchen table a chicken she had
just prepared for cooking; in came the cat, and carried it off, and we
never saw a morsel of it. Oh, I hate cats; I will never have one."
True, the cat is unpopular. Her reputation is bad, and she makes no
effort to improve the general opinion which people have of her. She
cares as little about your opinion as does the Sultan of Turkey.
And--must I confess--this is the very reason I love her.
In this world, no one can long be indifferent to things, whether trivial
or serious--if, indeed, anything is serious. Hence, every person must,
sooner or later, declare himself on the subjects of dogs and cats.
Well, then! I love cats.
Ah, how many times people have said to me, "What! do you love cats?"
"Certainly."
"Well, don't you love dogs better?"
"No, I prefer cats every time."
"Oh, that's very queer!"
The truth is, I would rather have neither cat nor dog. But when I am
obliged to live with one of these beings, I always choose the cat. I
will tell you why.
The cat seems to me to have the manners most necessary to good society.
In her early youth she has all the graces, all the gentleness, all the
unexpectedness that the most artistic imagination could desire. She is
smart; she never loses herself. She is prudent, going everywhere,
looking into everything, breaking nothing.
The cat steals fresh mutton just as the dog steals it, but, unlike the
dog, she takes no delight in carrion. She is fastidiously clean--and in
this respect, she might well be imitated by many of her detractors. She
washes her face, and in so doing foretells the weather into the bargain.
You may please yourself by putting a ribbon around her neck, but never a
collar; she cannot be enslaved.
In short, the cat is a dignified, proud, disdainful animal. She defies
advances and tolerates no insults. She abandons the house in which she
is not treated according to her merits. She is, in both origin and
character, a true aristocrat, while the dog is and always will be, a
mere vulgar parvenu.
The only serious argument that can be urged against the cat is that she
destroys the birds, not caring whether they are sparrows or
nightingales. If the dog does less, it is because of his stupidity and
clumsiness, not because he is above such business. He also runs after
the birds; but his foolish barking warns them of his coming, and as they
fly away he can only watch them with open mouth and drooping tail.
The dog submits himself to the slavery of the collar in order to be
taught the art of circumventing rabbits and pigeons--and this not for
his own profit, but for the pleasure of his master, the hunter. Foolish,
foolish fellow! An animal himself, he delights in persecuting other
animals at the command of the man who beats him.
But the cat, when she catches a bird, has a good excuse for her
cruelty--she catches it only to eat it herself. Shall she be slandered
for such an act? Before condemning her, men may well think of their own
shortcomings. They will find among themselves, as well as in the race of
cats, many individuals who have claws and often use them for the
destruction of those who are gifted with wings.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 36: Translated from Alexandre Dumas, a noted French novelist
(1802-1870).]
EXPRESSION: In what does the humor of this selection consist? Read
aloud and with expression the passages which appeal to you as the
most enjoyable. Do you agree with all the statements made by the
author? Read these with which you disagree, and then give reasons
for your disagreement.
THE OWL CRITIC[37]
"Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop;
The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop;
The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading
The _Daily_, the _Herald_, the _Post_, little heeding
The young man who blurted out such a blunt question;
Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion;
And the barber kept on shaving.
"Don't you see, Mister Brown,"
Cried the youth, with a frown,
"How wrong the whole thing is,
How preposterous each wing is,
How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is--
In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis?
I make no apology;
I've learned owl-eology,
I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections,
And cannot be blinded to any deflections
Arising from unskillful fingers that fail
To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail.
Mister Brown! Mister Brown!
Do take that bird down,
Or you'll soon be the laughingstock all over town!"
And the barber kept on shaving.
[Illustration: The Owl Critic.]
"I've _studied_ owls,
And other night fowls,
And I tell you
What I know to be true:
An owl cannot roost
With his limbs so unloosed;
No owl in this world
Ever had his claws curled,
Ever had his legs slanted,
Ever had his bill canted,
Ever had his neck screwed
Into that attitude.
He can't _do_ it, because
'Tis against all bird laws.
Anatomy teaches,
Ornithology preaches,
An owl has a toe
That _can't_ turn out so!
I've made the white owl my study for years,
And to see such a job almost moves me to tears!
Mister Brown, I'm amazed
You should be so gone crazed
As to put up a bird
In that posture absurd!
To _look_ at that owl really brings on a dizziness;
The man who stuffed _him_ don't half know his business!"
And the barber kept on shaving.
"Examine those eyes.
I'm filled with surprise
Taxidermists should pass
Off on you such poor glass;
So unnatural they seem
They'd make Audubon scream,
And John Burroughs laugh
To encounter such chaff.
Do take that bird down:
Have him stuffed again, Brown!"
And the barber kept on shaving.
"With some sawdust and bark
I could stuff in the dark
An owl better than that.
I could make an old hat
Look more like an owl than that horrid fowl
Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather.
In fact, about _him_ there's not one natural feather."
Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch,
The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch,
Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic
(Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic,
And then fairly hooted, as if he should say,
"Your learning's at fault _this_ time, anyway;
Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray.
I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good day!"
And the barber kept on shaving.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 37: By James T. Fields, an American publisher and author
(1817-1881).]
MRS. CAUDLE'S UMBRELLA LECTURE[38]
Bah! That's the third umbrella gone since Christmas. What were you to
do? Why, let him go home in the rain, to be sure. I'm very certain there
was nothing about him that could spoil. Take cold? Indeed! He doesn't
look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he'd better have taken
cold than taken our umbrella. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say,
DO YOU HEAR THE RAIN?
Pooh! don't think me a fool, Mr. Caudle. Don't insult me. He return the
umbrella? Anybody would think you were born yesterday. As if anybody
ever did return an umbrella!
I should like to know how the children are to go to school to-morrow.
They shan't go through such weather, I'm determined. No! they shall stay
at home and never learn anything--the blessed creatures--sooner than go
and get wet. And when they grow up, I wonder whom they'll have to thank
for knowing nothing--who, indeed, but their father?
But I know why you lent the umbrella. Oh, yes! I know very well. I was
going out to tea at dear mother's to-morrow--you knew that--and you did
it on purpose. Don't tell me; you hate to have me to go there, and take
every mean advantage to hinder me. But don't you think it, Mr. Caudle.
No, sir; if it comes down in bucketfuls I'll go all the more.
No! and I won't have a cab! Where do you think the money's to come from?
You've got nice, high notions at that club of yours. A cab, indeed! Cost
me sixteen pence at least--sixteen pence?--two-and-eight-pence, for
there's back again! Cabs, indeed! I should like to know who is to pay
for them! I can't pay for them, and I'm sure you can't if you go on as
you do; throwing away your property and beggaring your children, buying
umbrellas.
Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, DO YOU HEAR IT? But I don't
care--I'll go to mother's to-morrow, I will; and what's more, I'll walk
every step of the way; and you know that will give me my death. Don't
call me a foolish woman; it's you that's the foolish man. You know I
can't wear clogs; and with no umbrella, the wet's sure to give me a
cold--it always does. But what do you care for that? Nothing at all. I
may be laid up for what you care, as I dare say I shall--and a pretty
doctor's bill there'll be. I hope there will! It will teach you to lend
your umbrella again. I shouldn't wonder if I caught my death; and that's
what you lent your umbrella for. Of course!
Nice clothes I shall get, too, traipsing through weather like this. My
gown and bonnet will be spoiled quite. Needn't I wear them, then?
Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear them. No, sir; I'm not going out a
dowdy to please you or anybody else. Gracious knows, it isn't often I
step over the threshold; indeed, I might as well be a slave at
once--better, I should say. But when I go out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to
go as a lady.
Ugh! I look forward with dread for to-morrow. How I'm to go to mother's
I'm sure I can't tell. But, if I die, I'll go. No, sir; I won't _borrow_
an umbrella.
No; and you shan't _buy_ one. Mr. Caudle, if you bring home another
umbrella, I'll throw it into the street. Ha! it was only last week I had
a new nozzle put to that umbrella. I'm sure if I'd known as much as I do
now, it might have gone without one, for all of me.
The children, too, dear things, they'll be sopping wet; for they shan't
stay at home; they shan't lose their learning; it's all their father
will leave them, I'm sure. But they shall go to school. Don't tell me I
said they shouldn't; you are so aggravating, Caudle, you'd spoil the
temper of an angel; they shall go to school; mark that! And if they get
their deaths of cold, it's not my fault. I didn't lend the umbrella.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 38: By Douglas William Jerrold, an English humorous writer
(1803-1857).]
NOTE: Which of the various specimens of humor here presented do you
enjoy most? Give reasons.
THE DARK DAY IN CONNECTICUT[39]
'Twas on a Mayday of the far old year,
Seventeen hundred eighty, that there fell
Over the bloom and sweet life of the spring,
Over the fresh earth and the heaven of noon,
A horror of great darkness, like the night
In day of which the Norland sagas tell,--
The Twilight of the Gods....
Birds ceased to sing, and all the barnyard fowls
Roosted; the cattle at the pasture bars
Lowed, and looked homeward; bats on leathern wings
Flitted abroad; the sounds of labor died;
Men prayed, and women wept; all ears grew sharp
To hear the doom blast of the trumpet shatter
The black sky, that the dreadful face of Christ
Might look from the rent clouds, not as he looked
A loving guest at Bethany, but stern
As Justice and inexorable Law.
Meanwhile in the old statehouse, dim as ghosts,
Sat the lawgivers of Connecticut,
Trembling beneath their legislative robes.
"It is the Lord's Great Day! Let us adjourn,"
Some said; and then as if with one accord
All eyes were turned to Abraham Davenport.
[Illustration: The Dark Day In Connecticut.]
He rose, slow cleaving with his steady voice
The intolerable hush. "This well may be
The Day of Judgment which the world awaits;
But be it so or not, I only know
My present duty, and my Lord's command
To occupy till he come. So at the post
Where he hath set me in his providence,
I choose, for one, to meet him face to face,--
No faithless servant frightened from my task,
But ready when the Lord of the harvest calls;
And therefore, with all reverence, I would say,
Let God do his work, we will see to ours.--
Bring in the candles!" And they brought them in.
Then, by the flaring lights the Speaker read,
Albeit with husky voice and shaking hands,
An act to amend an act to regulate
The shad and alewive fisheries. Whereupon
Wisely and well spake Abraham Davenport,
Straight to the question, with no figures of speech
Save the ten Arab signs, yet not without
The shrewd, dry humor natural to the man--
His awestruck colleagues listening all the while,
Between the pauses of his argument,
To hear the thunder of the wrath of God
Break from the hollow trumpet of the cloud.
And there he stands in memory to this day,
Erect, self-poised, a rugged face, half seen
Against the background of unnatural dark,
A witness to the ages as they pass,
That simple duty hath no place for fear.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 39: From "Abraham Davenport," by John Greenleaf Whittier.]
TWO INTERESTING LETTERS
I. COLUMBUS TO THE LORD TREASURER OF SPAIN
BARCELONA, 1493.
TO LORD RAPHAEL SANCHEZ:--
Knowing that it will afford you pleasure to learn that I have brought my
undertaking to a successful termination, I have decided upon writing you
this letter to acquaint you with all the events which have occurred in
my voyage, and the discoveries which have resulted from it.
[Illustration]
Thirty-three days after my departure from Cadiz I reached the Indian
sea, where I discovered many islands, thickly peopled, of which I took
possession without resistance in the name of our most illustrious
monarchs, by public proclamation and with unfurled banners. To the first
of these islands, which is called by the Indians Guanahani, I gave the
name of the blessed Saviour, relying upon whose protection I had reached
this as well as the other islands.
As soon as we arrived at that, which as I have said was named Juana, I
proceeded along its coast a short distance westward, and found it to be
so large and apparently without termination, that I could not suppose it
to be an island, but the continental province of Cathay.
In the meantime I had learned from some Indians whom I had seized, that
the country was certainly an island; and therefore I sailed toward the
east, coasting to the distance of three hundred and twenty-two miles,
which brought us to the extremity of it; from this point I saw lying
eastwards another island, fifty-four miles distant from Juana, to which
I gave the name Espanola.
All these islands are very beautiful, and distinguished by a diversity
of scenery; they are filled with a great variety of trees of immense
height, and which I believe to retain their foliage in all seasons; for
when I saw them they were as verdant and luxurious as they usually are
in Spain in the month of May,--some of them were blossoming, some
bearing fruit, and all flourishing in the greatest perfection, according
to their respective stages of growth, and the nature and quality of
each; yet the islands are not so thickly wooded as to be impassable. The
nightingale and various birds were singing in countless numbers, and
that in November, the month in which I arrived there.
The inhabitants are very simple and honest, and exceedingly liberal with
all they have; none of them refusing anything he may possess when he is
asked for it, but on the contrary inviting us to ask them. They exhibit
great love toward all others in preference to themselves: they also give
objects of great value for trifles, and content themselves with very
little or nothing in return.
I, however, forbade that these trifles and articles of no value (such as
pieces of dishes, plates, and glass, keys, and leather straps) should be
given to them, although, if they could obtain them, they imagined
themselves to be possessed of the most beautiful trinkets in the world.
It even happened that a sailor received for a leather strap as much gold
as was worth three golden nobles, and for things of more trifling value
offered by our men, the Indian would give whatever the seller required.
On my arrival I had taken some Indians by force from the first island
that I came to, in order that they might learn our language. These men
are still traveling with me, and although they have been with us now a
long time, they continue to entertain the idea that I have descended
from heaven; and on our arrival at any new place they published this,
crying out immediately with a loud voice to the other Indians, "Come,
come and look upon beings of a celestial race": upon which both men and
women, children and adults, young men and old, when they got rid of the
fear they at first entertained, would come out in throngs, crowding the
roads to see us, some bringing food, others drink, with astonishing
affection and kindness.
Although all I have related may appear to be wonderful and unheard of,
yet the results of my voyage would have been more astonishing if I had
had at my disposal such ships as I required. But these great and
marvelous results are not to be attributed to any merit of mine, but to
the holy Christian faith, and to the piety and religion of our
Sovereigns; for that which the unaided intellect of man could not
compass, the spirit of God has granted to human exertions, for God is
wont to hear the prayers of his servants who love his precepts even to
the performance of apparent impossibilities.
Thus it has happened to me in the present instance, who have
accomplished a task to which the powers of mortal men had never hitherto
attained; for if there have been those who have anywhere written or
spoken of these islands, they have done so with doubts and conjectures,
and no one has ever asserted that he has seen them, on which account
their writings have been looked upon as little else than fables.
Therefore let the king and queen, our princes and their most happy
kingdoms, and all the other provinces of Christendom, render thanks to
our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who has granted us so great a victory
and such prosperity.
CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.
EXPRESSION: In connection with this letter, read again the story of
the discovery as narrated by Washington Irving, page 43. In what
respect do the two accounts differ?
II. GOVERNOR WINSLOW TO A FRIEND IN ENGLAND
DEAR FRIEND,--
Although I received no letter from you by this ship, yet forasmuch as I
know you expect the performance of my promise, which was to write to you
truly and faithfully of all things, I have therefore, at this time, sent
unto you accordingly, referring you for further satisfaction to our more
large relations.
[Illustration]
You shall understand that in this little time that a few of us have been
here, we have built seven dwelling houses and four for the use of the
plantation, and have made preparation for divers others.
We set the last spring some twenty acres of Indian corn, and sowed some
six acres of barley and pease; and according to the manner of the
Indians, we manured our ground with herrings, or rather shads, which we
have in great abundance, and take with great ease at our doors.
Our corn did prove well; and God be praised, we had a good increase of
Indian corn, and our barley indifferent good, but our pease not worth
the gathering, for we feared they were too late sown. They came up very
well, and blossomed; but the sun parched them in the blossom.
Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that
so we might, after a special manner, rejoice together after we had
gathered the fruit of our labors. They four, in one day, killed as much
fowl as with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At
which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of
the Indians coming among us, and among the rest their greatest king,
Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and
feasted; and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to
the plantation, and bestowed upon our governor, and upon the captain and
others. And although it be not always so plentiful as it was at this
time with us, yet by the goodness of God we are so far from want, that
we often wish you partakers of our plenty....
We have often found the Indians very faithful in their covenant of peace
with us, very loving, and ready to pleasure us. We often go to them, and
they come to us.... Yea, it hath pleased God so to possess the Indians
with a fear of us and love to us, that not only the greatest king
amongst them, called Massasoit, but also all the princes and peoples
round about us, have either made suit to us, or been glad of any
occasion to make peace with us; so that seven of them at once have sent
their messengers to us to that end.... They are a people without any
religion or knowledge of any God, yet very trusty, quick of
apprehension, ripe-witted, just....
Now, because I expect you coming unto us, with other of our friends, I
thought good to advertise you of a few things needful. Be careful to
have a very good bread room to put your biscuits in. Let not your meat
be dry-salted; none can better do it than the sailors. Let your meal be
so hard trod in your cask that you shall need an adz or hatchet to work
it out with. Trust not too much on us for corn at this time, for we
shall have little enough till harvest.
Build your cabins as open as you can, and bring good store of clothes
and bedding with you. Bring every man a musket or fowling piece. Let
your piece be long in the barrel, and fear not the weight of it, for
most of our shooting is from stands.
I forbear further to write for the present, hoping to see you by the
next return. So I take my leave, commending you to the Lord for a safe
conduct unto us, resting in him,
Your loving friend,
EDWARD WINSLOW.
_Plymouth in New England,
this 11th of December, 1621._
POEMS OF HOME AND COUNTRY
I. "THIS IS MY OWN, MY NATIVE LAND"[40]
Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned
As home his footsteps he hath turned,
From wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there breathe, go, mark him well.
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch concentered all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band,
That knits me to thy rugged strand?
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 40: From the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," by Sir Walter Scott.]
II. THE GREEN LITTLE SHAMROCK OF IRELAND[41]
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle,
'Twas St. Patrick himself, sure, that set it;
And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.
It thrives through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland,
And its name is the dear little shamrock of Ireland--
The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock,
The sweet little, green little shamrock of Ireland.