1. You should read with this poem Saxe's "The Blind Men and the Elephant." Is it like any other selection you have read?

2. Does the chameleon actually change color? Wherein does the humor of the poem lie?


THE PICKWICK CLUB ON ICE

By Charles Dickens

"Now," said Wardle, after a substantial lunch had
been done ample justice to, "what say you to an
hour on the ice? We shall have plenty of time."

"Capital," said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

"Prime," ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer. 5

"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.

"Ye—yes; oh, yes!" replied Mr. Winkle. "I—I—am
rather out of practice."

"Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. "I like to
see it so much." 10

"Oh, it is so graceful," said another young lady.

A third young lady said it was "elegant," and a fourth expressed
her opinion that it was "swanlike."

"I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle,
reddening; "but I have no skates." 15

This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had a
couple of pair, and the fat boy announced that there were
half a dozen more in the house; whereat Mr. Winkle expressed
exquisite delight and looked exquisitely uncomfortable. 5

Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold,
forced a gimlet into the soles of his feet, put his skates on
with the points behind, and got the straps into a very
complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of
Mr. Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates than a 10
Hindu. At length, however, with the assistance of Mr.
Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly screwed and
buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.

"Now, then, sir," said Sam in an encouraging tone; "off
with you, and show 'em how to do it." 15

"Stop, Sam, stop," said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently
and clutching hold of Sam's arm with the grasp of a drowning
man. "How slippery it is, Sam."

"Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr.
Weller. "Hold up, sir." 20

This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a
demonstration Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic
desire to throw his feet in the air and dash the back of his
head on the ice.

"These—these—are very awkward skates, ain't they, 25
Sam?" inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering.

"I'm afraid there's an awkward gentleman in 'em, sir,"
replied Sam.

"Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious
that there was anything the matter. "Come, the ladies 30
are all anxiety."

"Yes, yes!" replied Mr. Winkle with a ghastly smile.

"Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavoring to disengage
himself. "Now, sir, start off."

"Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging
most affectionately to Mr. Weller. "I find I've got a
couple of coats at home that I don't want, Sam. You may 5
have them, Sam."

"Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller.

"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle
hastily. "You needn't take your hand away to do that.
I meant to have given you five shillings this morning for a 10
Christmas box, Sam; I'll give it to you this afternoon,
Sam."

"You're very good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.

"Just hold me at first, Sam, will you?" said Mr. Winkle.
"There—that's right. I shall soon get in the way of it, 15
Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not too fast."

Mr. Winkle, stooping forward with his body half doubled
up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller in a very
singular and unswanlike manner when Mr. Pickwick most
innocently shouted from the opposite bank, 20

"Sam!"

"Sir?" said Mr. Weller.

"Here. I want you."

"Let go, sir," said Sam. "Don't you hear the governor
a callin'? Let go, sir." 25

With a violent effort Mr. Weller disengaged himself from
the grasp of the agonized Pickwickian; and in so doing
administered a considerable impetus to the unhappy Mr.
Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of dexterity or
practice could have insured, that gentleman bore swiftly 30
down into the center of a group at the very moment when
Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled
beauty. Mr. Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a
wild crash they fell heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the
spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle
was far too wise to do anything of the kind in skates. He
was seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile; 5
but anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance.

Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned
to Mr. Weller and said in a stern voice, "Take his skates
off." 10

"No; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated
Mr. Winkle.

"Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick firmly.

The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle
allowed Sam to obey it in silence. 15

"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him
to rise.

Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders,
and beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a
searching look upon him and uttered in a low but distinct20
and emphatic tone these remarkable words:

"You're a humbug, sir."

"A what?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.

"A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer if you wish it.
An impostor, sir." 25

With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his
heel and rejoined his friends.

While Mr. Pickwick was delivering himself of the sentiment
just recorded, Mr. Weller and the fat boy, having by
their joint endeavors cut out a slide, were exercising themselves 30
thereupon in a very masterly and brilliant manner.
Sam Weller, in particular, was displaying that beautiful
feat of fancy sliding which is currently denominated "knocking
at the cobbler's door," and which is achieved by skimming
over the ice on one foot and occasionally giving a two-penny
postman's knock upon it with the other. It was
a good long slide, and there was something in the motion 5
which Mr. Pickwick, who was very cold with standing still,
could not help envying.

"It looks a nice warm exercise, that, doesn't it?" he
inquired of Wardle, when that gentleman was thoroughly
out of breath by reason of the indefatigable manner in 10
which he had converted his legs into a pair of compasses
and drawn complicated problems on the ice.

"Ah, it does, indeed," replied Wardle. "Do you slide?"

"I used to do so, on the gutters, when I was a boy,"
replied Mr. Pickwick. 15

"Try it now," said Wardle.

Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled off his gloves
and put them in his hat, took two or three short runs,
balked himself as often, and at last took another run and
went slowly and gravely down the slide with his feet about 20
a yard and a quarter apart, amidst the gratified shouts of
all the spectators.

It was the most intensely interesting thing to observe
the manner in which Mr. Pickwick performed his share
in the ceremony; to watch the torture of anxiety with 25
which he viewed the person behind, gaining upon him at
the imminent hazard of tripping him up; to see him
gradually expend the painful force which he had put on
at first and turn slowly round on the slide, with his face
towards the point from which he had started; to contemplate 30
the playful smile which mantled on his face when he had
accomplished the distance and the eagerness with which he
turned round when he had done so and ran after his predecessor,
his black gaiters tripping pleasantly through
the snow and his eyes beaming cheerfulness and gladness
through his spectacles. And when he was knocked down
(which happened upon the average every third round), 5
it was the most invigorating sight that can possibly be
imagined to behold him gather up his hat, gloves, and
handkerchief with a glowing countenance, and resume
his station in the rank with an ardor and enthusiasm which
nothing could abate. 10

The sport was at its height, the sliding was at the quickest,
the laughter was at the loudest, when a sharp, smart
crack was heard. There was a quick rush towards the bank,
a wild scream from the ladies, and a shout from Mr. Tupman.
A large mass of ice disappeared, the water bubbled 15
up over it, and Mr. Pickwick's hat, gloves, and handkerchief
were floating on the surface; and this was all of Mr.
Pickwick that anybody could see.

Dismay and anguish were depicted on every countenance;
the males turned pale, and the females fainted; Mr. Snodgrass 20
and Mr. Winkle grasped each other by the hand and
gazed at the spot where their leader had gone down, with
frenzied eagerness; while Mr. Tupman, by way of rendering
the promptest assistance and at the same time conveying
to any persons who might be within hearing the clearest 25
possible notion of the catastrophe, ran off across the country
at his utmost speed, screaming "Fire!" with all his
might and main.

It was at this very moment—when old Wardle and Sam
Weller were approaching the hole with cautious steps and 30
Mr. Benjamin Allen was holding a hurried consultation
with Mr. Bob Sawyer on the advisability of bleeding the
company generally, as an improving little bit of professional
practice—it was at this very moment that a head, face,
and shoulders emerged from beneath the water, and disclosed
the features and spectacles of Mr. Pickwick.

"Do you feel the bottom there, old fellow?" said Wardle. 5

"Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, wringing the
water from his head and face and gasping for breath. "I
fell upon my back. I couldn't get on my feet at first."

The clay upon so much of Mr. Pickwick's coat as was yet
visible bore testimony to the accuracy of this statement;10
and as the fears of the spectators were still further relieved
by the fat boy's suddenly recollecting that the water was
nowhere more than five feet deep, prodigies of valor were
performed to get him out. After a vast quantity of splashing,
and cracking, and struggling, Mr. Pickwick was at 15
length fairly extricated from his unpleasant position and
once more stood on dry land.

Pickwick Papers.


1. The members of the Pickwick Club herein presented are Mr. Pickwick, a heavy, pompous, dignified gentleman, and three friends, Messrs. Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tupman. Characterize each. Weller is a guide-valet. Pickwick Papers records the experiences of the Club during a series of tours.

2. How many episodes are related?

3. Why didn't Winkle admit his inability to skate? What do you consider the funniest part of the Winkle story?

4. What is ludicrous about Pickwick's sliding? When he fell into the water, why was there so little assistance offered at first, and so much later?

5. If you have had a funny experience of your own on ice, tell it to the class.


DARIUS GREEN AND HIS FLYING MACHINE

By John Townsend Trowbridge

If ever there lived a Yankee lad,
Wise or otherwise, good or bad,
Who, seeing the birds fly, didn't jump
With flapping arms from stake or stump,
Or spreading the tail5
Of his coat for a sail,
Take a soaring leap from post or rail,
And wonder why
He couldn't fly,
And flap and flutter and wish and try— 10
If ever you knew a country dunce
Who didn't try that as often as once—
All I can say is, that's a sign
He never would do for a hero of mine.

An aspiring genius was D. Green: 15
The son of a farmer—age fourteen;
His body was long and lank and lean—
Just right for flying, as will be seen;
He had two eyes as bright as a bean,
And a freckled nose that grew between, 20
A little awry;—for I must mention
That he had riveted his attention
Upon his wonderful invention,
Twisting his tongue as he twisted the strings,
And working his face as he worked the wings, 25
And with every turn of gimlet and screw
Turning and screwing his mouth round too,
Till his nose seemed bent
To catch the scent,
Around some corner, of new-baked pies,
And his wrinkled cheeks and squinting eyes 5
Grew puckered into a queer grimace,
That made him look very droll in the face,
And also very wise.

And wise he must have been, to do more
Than ever a genius did before, 10
Excepting Dædalus of yore,
And his son Icarus, who wore
Upon their backs
Those wings of wax
He had read of in the old almanacs. 15
Darius was clearly of the opinion,
That the air was also man's dominion,
And that, with paddle or fin or pinion,
We soon or late
Shall navigate20
The azure as now we sail the sea.
The thing looks simple enough to me;
And if you doubt it,
Hear how Darius reasoned about it:

"The birds can fly,25
An' why can't I?
Must we give in,"
Says he with a grin,
"That the bluebird an' phoebe
Are smarter 'n we be?30
Jest fold our hands an' see the swaller
An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler?
Does the leetle chatterin', sassy wren,
No bigger'n my thumb, know more than men?
Jest show me that5
Er prove 't the bat
Hez got more brains than's in my hat,
An' I'll back down, an' not till then!"

He argued further: "Ner I can't see
What's th' use o' wings to a bumblebee 10
Fer to git a livin' with, more'n to me;
Ain't my business
Importanter'n his'n is?
That Icarus
Made a perty muss—15
Him an' his daddy Daedalus.
They might 'a' knowed wings made o' wax
Wouldn't stan' sun heat an' hard whacks:
I'll make mine o' luther,
Er suthin' er other."20

And he said to himself, as he tinkered and planned:
"But I ain't goin' to show my hand
To nummies that never can understand
The fust idee that's big an' grand."
So he kept his secret from all the rest, 25
Safely buttoned within his vest;
And in the loft above the shed
Himself he locks, with thimble and thread
And wax and hammer and buckles and screws,
And all such things as geniuses use: 30
Two bats for patterns, curious fellows!
A charcoal pot and a pair of bellows;
An old hoop skirt or two, as well as
Some wire and several old umbrellas;
A carriage cover for tail and wings; 5
A piece of harness; and straps and strings;
And a big, strong box,
In which he locks
These and a hundred other things.

His grinning brothers, Reuben and Burke 10
And Nathan and Jotham and Solomon, lurk
Around the corner to see him work—
Sitting cross-legged, like a Turk,
Drawing the waxed end through with a jerk,
And boring the holes with a comical quirk 15
Of his wise old head, and a knowing smirk.
But vainly they mounted each other's backs,
And poked through knot holes and pried through cracks;
With wood from the pile and straw from the stacks
He plugged the knot holes and calked the cracks; 20
And a bucket of water, which one would think
He had brought up into the loft to drink
When he chanced to be dry,
Stood always nigh,
For Darius was sly!25
And whenever at work he happened to spy
At chink or crevice a blinking eye,
He let a dipper of water fly.

So day after day
He stitched and tinkered and hammered away, 30
Till at last 'twas done,—
The greatest invention under the sun!
"An' now," says Darius, "hooray fer some fun!"

'Twas the Fourth of July,
And the weather was dry, 5
And not a cloud was on all the sky,
Save a few light fleeces, which here and there,
Half mist, half air,
Like foam on the ocean went floating by,—
Just as lovely a morning as ever was seen 10
For a nice little trip in a flying machine.

Thought cunning Darius: "Now I shan't go
Along 'ith the fellers to see the show:
I'll say I've got sich a terrible cough!
An' then, when the folks 'ave all gone off, 15
I'll have full swing
Fer to try the thing,
An' practice a little on the wing."

"Ain't goin' to see the celebration?"
Says brother Nate. "No; botheration! 20
I've got sich a cold—a toothache—I—
My gracious!—feel's though I should fly!"
Said Jotham, "'Sho!
Guess ye better go."
But Darius said, "No!25
Shouldn't wonder 'f you might see me, though,
'Long 'bout noon, if I get red
O' this jumpin', thumpin' pain 'n my head."
For all the while to himself he said:
"I tell ye what!
I'll fly a few times around the lot,
To see how't seems, then soon's I've got
The hang o' the thing, ez likely's not,
I'll astonish the nation,5
An' all creation,
By flyin' over the celebration!
Over their heads I'll sail like an eagle;
I'll balance myself on my wings like a sea gull;
I'll dance on the chimbleys; I'll stand on the steeple; 10
I'll flop up to winders an' scare the people!
I'll light on the liberty pole an' crow;
An' I'll say to the gawpin' fools below,
'What world's this 'ere
That I've come near?'15
Fer I'll make 'em b'lieve I'm a chap f'm the moon;
An' I'll try a race 'ith their ol' balloon!"

He crept from his bed,
And seeing the others were gone, he said:
"I'm a gittin' over the cold 'n my head." 20
And away he sped,
To open the wonderful box in the shed.

His brothers had walked but a little way,
When Jotham to Nathan chanced to say,
"What is the feller up to, hey?" 25
"Don'o',—the' 's suthin' er other to pay,
Er he wouldn't 'a' stayed to hum to-day."
Says Burke, "His toothache's all 'n his eye!
He never'd miss a Fo'th o' July,
Ef he hedn't got some machine to try." 30
Then Sol, the little one, spoke: "By darn!
Le's hurry back an' hide 'n the barn,
An' pay him fer tellin' us that yarn!"

"Agreed!" Through the orchard they creep back,
Along by the fences, behind the stack, 5
And one by one, through a hole in the wall,
In under the dusty barn they crawl,
Dressed in their Sunday garments all.
And a very astonishing sight was that,
When each in his cobwebbed coat and hat 10
Came up through the floor like an ancient rat.

And there they hid;
And Reuben slid
The fastenings back, and the door undid.
"Keep dark!" said he,15
"While I squint an' see what the' is to see."

As knights of old put on their mail,—
From head to foot
An iron suit,
Iron jacket and iron boot, 20
Iron breeches, and on the head
No hat, but an iron pot instead,
And under the chin the bail
(I believe they called the thing a helm);
And, thus accoutered, they took the field, 25
Sallying forth to overwhelm
The dragons and pagans that plagued the realm,—
So this modern knight
Prepared for flight,
Put on his wings and strapped them tight,—
Jointed and jaunty, strong and light,—
Buckled them fast to shoulder and hip,—
Ten feet they measured from tip to tip!
And a helm had he, but that he wore, 5
Not on his head, like those of yore,
But more like the helm of a ship.

"Hush!" Reuben said,
"He's up in the shed!
He's opened the winder,—I see his head! 10
He stretches it out,
An' pokes it about,
Lookin' to see 'f the coast is clear,
An' nobody near;—
Guess he don'o' who's hid in here!15
He's riggin' a springboard over the sill!
Stop laffin', Solomon! Burke, keep still!
He's climbin' out now. Of all the things!
What's he got on? I van, it's wings!
An' that t'other thing? I vum, it's a tail!
An' there he sets like a hawk on a rail!20
Steppin' careful, he travels the length
Of his springboard, and teeters to try its strength.

"Now he stretches his wings like a monstrous bat;
Peeks over his shoulder, this way an' that, 25
Fer to see 'f the' 's anyone passin' by;
But the' 's on'y a ca'f an' a goslin' nigh.
They turn up at him a wonderin' eye,
To see—the dragon! he's goin' to fly!
Away he goes! Jiminy! what a jump!
Flop—flop—an' plump
To the ground with a thump,
Flutt'rin' an' flound'rin', all 'n a lump!"

As a demon is hurled by an angel's spear, 5
Heels over head, to his proper sphere,
Heels over head, and head over heels,
Dizzily down the abyss he wheels,—
So fell Darius. Upon his crown,
In the midst of the barnyard, he came down, 10
In a wonderful whirl of tangled strings,
Broken braces and broken springs,
Broken tail and broken wings,
Shooting stars and various things,
Barnyard litter of straw and chaff. 15
Away with a bellow fled the calf,
And what was that? Did the gosling laugh?

'Tis a merry roar
From the old barn door,
And he hears the voice of Jotham crying, 20
"Say, D'rius! how do you like flyin'?"

Slowly, ruefully, where he lay,
Darius just turned and looked that way,
As he stanched his sorrowful nose with his cuff.
"Wall, I like flyin' well enough," 25
He said, "but the' ain't sich a awful sight
O' fun in't when ye come to light."


Moral

I just have room for the moral here:
And this is the moral,—Stick to your sphere.
Or, if you insist, as you have the right,
On spreading your wings for a loftier flight,
The moral is,—Take care how you light. 5

1. Tell the story of Icarus and Dædalus. Compare Darius's flying machine with a modern airplane. When and by whom was the airplane perfected as a practical flyer?

2. How much of the story is told from Darius's standpoint? Through whose eyes do we see the rest?

3. Describe Darius. Is he really a clever lad? Why do we laugh at his experiment?

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 talking10
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.