The Wit and Humor of America, Volume III. (of X.)

by Ambrose Bierce

  Mr. Jimmy, who aspired to the mathematical chair, was master of a smallschool of all sexes, near Woodville. At the first, he was kindly, yethonestly told, his knowledge was too limited and inaccurate; yet,notwithstanding this, and some almost rude repulses afterward, hepersisted in his application and his hopes. To give evidence ofcompetency, he once told me he was arranging a new spelling-book, thepublication of which would make him known as a literary man, and be anunspeakable advantage to "the rising generation." And this naturallybrought on the following colloquy about the work:

  "Ah! indeed! Mr. Jimmy?"

  "Yes, indeed, Mr. Carlton."

  "On what new principle do you go, sir?"

  "Why, sir, on the principles of nature and common sense. I allowschool-books for schools are all too powerful obstruse and hard-like tobe understood without exemplifying illustrations."

  "Yes, but Mr. Jimmy, how is a child's spelling-book to be made anyplainer?"

  "Why, sir, by clear explifications of the words in one column, byexemplifying illustrations in the other."

  "I do not understand you, Mr. Jimmy, give me a specimen--"

  "Sir?"

  "An example--"

  "To be sure--here's a spes-a-example; you see, for instance, I put inthe spelling-column, C-r-e-a-m, _cream_, and here in the explificationcolumn, I put the exemplifying illustration--_Unctious part of milk!_"

  We had asked, at our first interview, if our candidate was analgebraist, and his reply was _negative_; but, "he allowed he could'_qualify_' by the time of election, as he was powerful good at figures,and had cyphered clean through every arithmetic he had ever seen, therule of promiscuous questions and all!" Hence, some weeks after, as Iwas passing his door, on my way to a squirrel hunt, with a party offriends, Mr. Jimmy, hurrying out with a slate in his hand, begged me tostop a moment, and thus addressed me:

  "Well, Mr. Carlton, this algebra is a most powerful thing--ain't it?"

  "Indeed it is, Mr. Jimmy--have you been looking into it?"

  "Looking into it! I have been all through this here fust part; and byelection time, I allow I'll be ready for examination."

  "Indeed!"

  "Yes, sir! but it is such a pretty thing! Only to think of cyphering byletters! Why, sir, the sums come out, and bring the answers exactly likefigures. Jist stop a minute--look here: _a_ stands for 6, and _b_ standsfor 8, and _c_ stands for 4, and _d_ stands for figure 10; now if I saya plus b minus c equals d, it is all the same as if I said, 6 is 6 and 8makes 14, and 4 subtracted, leaves 10! Why, sir, I done a whole slatefull of letters and signs; and afterward, when I tried by figures, theyevery one of them came out right and brung the answer! I mean to cypherby letters altogether."

  "Mr. Jimmy, my company is nearly out of sight--if you can get along thisway through simple and quadratic equations by our meeting, your chancewill not be so bad--good morning, sir."

  But our man of "letters" quit cyphering the new way, and returned toplain figures long before reaching equations; and so he could not becomeour professor. Yet anxious to do us all the good in his power, after ourcollege opened, he waited on me, a leading trustee, with a proposal toboard our students, and authorized me to publish--"as how Mr. JamesJimmy will take strange students--students not belonging toWoodville--to board, at one dollar a week, and find everything, washingincluded, and will black their _shoes_ three times a week to _boot_,and--_give them their dog-wood and cherry-bitters every morning into thebargain!_"

  The most extraordinary candidate, however, was Mr. Solomon Rapid. He wasnow somewhat advanced into the shaving age, and was ready to assumeoffices the most opposite in character; although justice compels us tosay Mr. Rapid was as fit for one thing as another. Deeming it waste oftime to prepare for any station till he was certain of obtaining it, hewisely demanded the place first, and then set to work to becomequalified for its duties, being, I suspect, the very man, or somerelation of his, who is recorded as not knowing whether he could readGreek, as he had never tried. And, besides, Mr. Solomon Rapid contendedthat all offices, from president down to fence-viewer, were open toevery white American citizen; and that every republican had ablood-bought right to seek any that struck his fancy; and if the profitswere less, or the duties more onerous than had been anticipated, that aman ought to resign and try another.

  Naturally, therefore, Mr. Rapid thought he would like to sit in ourchair of languages, or have some employment in the State college; andhence he called for that purpose on Dr. Sylvan, who, knowing thecandidate's character, maliciously sent him to me. Accordingly, theyoung gentleman presented himself, and without ceremony, instantly madeknown his business thus:

  "I heerd, sir, you wanted somebody to teach the State school, and I'mcome to let you know I'm willing to take the place."

  "Yes, sir, we are going to elect a professor of languages who is to bethe principal and a professor--"

  "Well, I don't care which I take, but I'm willing to be the principal.I can teach sifring, reading, writing, joggerfee, surveying, grammur,spelling, definition, parsin--"

  "Are you a linguist?"

  "Sir?"

  "You, of course, understand the dead languages?"

  "Well, can't say I ever seed much of them, though I have heerd tell ofthem; but I can soon larn them--they ain't more than a few of them Iallow?"

  "Oh! my dear sir, it is not possible--we--can't--"

  "Well, I never seed what I couldn't larn about as smart as anybody--"

  "Mr. Rapid, I do not mean to question your abilities; but if you are nowwholly unacquainted with the dead languages, it is impossible for you orany other talented man to learn them under four or five years."

  "Pshoo! foo! I'll bet I larn one in three weeks! Try me, sir,--let'shave the furst one furst--how many are there?"

  "Mr. Rapid, it is utterly impossible; but if you insist, I will loan youa Latin book--"

  "That's your sort, let's have it, that's all I want, fair play."

  Accordingly, I handed him a copy of Historiae Sacrae, with which he soonwent away, saying, he "didn't allow it would take long to git throughLatin, if 'twas only sich a thin patch of a book as that."

  In a few weeks, to my no small surprise, Mr. Solomon Rapid againpresented himself; and drawing forth the book began with a triumphantexpression of countenance:

  "Well, sir, I have done the Latin."

  "Done the Latin!"

  "Yes, I can read it as fast as English."

  "Read it as fast as English!!"

  "Yes, as fast as English--and I didn't find it hard at all."

  "May I try you on a page?"

  "Try away, try away; that's what I've come for."

  "Please read here then, Mr. Rapid;" and in order to give him a fairchance, I pointed to the first lines of the first chapter, viz.: "Inprincipio Deus creavit coelum et terram intra sex dies; primo diefecit lucem," etc.

  "That, sir?" and then he read thus, "In prinspo duse creevit kalelum etterrum intra sex dyes--primmo dye fe-fe-sit looseum," etc.

  "That will do, Mr. Rapid--"

  "Ah! ha! I told you so."

  "Yes, yes--but translate."

  "Translate!" (eyebrows elevating.)

  "Yes, translate, render it."

  "Render it!! how's that?" (forehead more wrinkled.)

  "Why, yes, render it into English--give me the meaning of it."

  "MEANING!!" (staring full in my face, his eyes like saucers, andforehead wrinkled with the furrows of eighty)--"MEANING!! I didn't knowit _had_ any meaning. I thought it was a DEAD language!!"

  * * * * *

  Well, reader, I am glad you are _not_ laughing at Mr. Rapid; for howshould anything _dead_ speak out so as to be understood? And indeed,does not his definition suit the vexed feelings of some young gentlemenattempting to read Latin without any interlinear translation? and whoinwardly, cursing both book and teacher, blast their souls "if they canmake any sense out of it." The ancients may yet speak in their ownlanguages to a few; but to most who boast the
honor of theiracquaintance, they are certainly dead in the sense of Solomon Rapid.

  LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE

  BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

  Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay, An' wash the cups and saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away, An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep, An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep; An' all us other childern, when the supper things is done, We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about, An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you Ef you Don't Watch Out!

  Onc't there was a little boy wouldn't say his pray'rs-- An' when he went to bed at night, away up stairs, His mammy heerd him holler, an' his daddy heerd him bawl, An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all! An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press, An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess; But all they ever found was thist his pants an' roundabout! An' the Gobble-uns'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out!

  An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin, An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin; An' onc't when they was "company," an' ole folks was there, She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care! An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide, They was two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side, An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about! An' the Gobble-uns'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out!

  An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue, An' the lampwick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo! An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray, An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,-- You better mind yer parents, and yer teachers fond and dear, An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear, An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about, Er the Gobble-uns'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out!

  HANS BREITMANN'S PARTY

  BY CHARLES GODFREY LELAND

  Hans Breitmann gife a barty, Dey had biano-blayin; I felled in lofe mit a Merican frau, Her name vas Madilda Yane. She hat haar as prown ash a pretzel, Her eyes vas himmel-plue, Und ven dey looket indo mine, Dey shplit mine heart in two.

  Hans Breitmann gife a barty, I vent dere you'll pe pound. I valtzet mit Madilda Yane Und vent shpinnen round und round. De pootiest Fraeulein in de House, She vayed 'pout dwo hoondred pound, Und efery dime she gife a shoomp She make de vindows sound.

  Hans Breitmann gife a barty, I dells you it cost him dear. Dey rolled in more ash sefen kecks Of foost-rate Lager Beer. Und venefer dey knocks de shpicket in De Deutschers gifes a cheer. I dinks dat so vine a barty, Nefer coom to a het dis year.

  Hans Breitmann gife a barty; Dere all vas Souse und Brouse, Ven de sooper comed in, de gompany Did make demselfs to house; Dey ate das Brot and Gensy broost, De Bratwurst and Braten fine, Und vash der Abendessen down Mit four parrels of Neckarwein.

  Hans Breitmann gife a barty; We all cot troonk ash bigs. I poot mine mout to a parrel of bier Und emptied it oop mit a schwigs. Und denn I gissed Madilda Yane Und she shlog me on de kop, Und de gompany fited mit daple-lecks Dill de coonshtable made oos shtop.

  Hans Breitmann gife a barty-- Where ish dat barty now! Where ish de lofely golden cloud Dat float on de moundain's prow? Where ish de himmelstrablende Stern-- De shtar of de shpirit's light? All goned afay mit de Lager Beer-- Afay in de ewigkeit!

  ROLLO LEARNING TO READ

  BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE

  When Rollo was five years young, his father said to him one evening:

  "Rollo, put away your roller skates and bicycle, carry that rowingmachine out into the hall, and come to me. It is time for you to learnto read."

  Then Rollo's father opened the book which he had sent home on a truckand talked to the little boy about it. It was Bancroft's History of theUnited States, half complete in twenty-three volumes. Rollo's fatherexplained to Rollo and Mary his system of education, with specialreference to Rollo's learning to read. His plan was that Mary shouldteach Rollo fifteen hours a day for ten years, and by that time Rollowould be half through the beginning of the first volume, and would likeit very much indeed.

  Rollo was delighted at the prospect. He cried aloud:

  "Oh, papa! thank you very much. When I read this book clear through, allthe way to the end of the last volume, may I have another little book toread?"

  "No," replied his father, "that may not be; because you will never getto the last volume of this one. For as fast as you read one volume, theauthor of this history, or his heirs, executors, administrators, orassigns, will write another as an appendix. So even though you shouldlive to be a very old man, like the boy preacher, this history willalways be twenty-three volumes ahead of you. Now, Mary and Rollo, thiswill be a hard task (pronounced tawsk) for both of you, and Mary mustremember that Rollo is a very little boy, and must be very patient andgentle."

  The next morning after the one preceding it, Mary began the firstlesson. In the beginning she was so gentle and patient that her motherwent away and cried, because she feared her dear little daughter wasbecoming too good for this sinful world, and might soon spread her wingsand fly away and be an angel.

  But in the space of a short time, the novelty of the expedition woreoff, and Mary resumed running her temper--which was of theold-fashioned, low-pressure kind, just forward of the fire-box--on itsold schedule. When she pointed to "A" for the seventh time, and Rollosaid "W," she tore the page out by the roots, hit her little brothersuch a whack over the head with the big book that it set his birthdayback six weeks, slapped him twice, and was just going to bite him, whenher mother came in. Mary told her that Rollo had fallen down stairs andtorn his book and raised that dreadful lump on his head. This timeMary's mother restrained her emotion, and Mary cried. But it was notbecause she feared her mother was pining away. Oh, no; it was hermother's rugged health and virile strength that grieved Mary, as long asthe seance lasted, which was during the entire performance.

  That evening Rollo's father taught Rollo his lesson and made Mary sit byand observe his methods, because, he said, that would be normalinstruction for her. He said:

  "Mary, you must learn to control your temper and curb your impatience ifyou want to wear low-neck dresses, and teach school. You must be sweetand patient, or you will never succeed as a teacher. Now, Rollo, what isthis letter?"

  "I dunno," said Rollo, resolutely.

  "That is A," said his father, sweetly.

  "Huh," replied Rollo, "I knowed that."

  "Then why did you not say so?" replied his father, so sweetly thatJonas, the hired boy, sitting in the corner, licked his chops.

  Rollo's father went on with the lesson:

  "What is this, Rollo?"

  "I dunno," said Rollo, hesitatingly.

  "Sure?" asked his father. "You do not know what it is?"

  "Nuck," said Rollo.

  "It is A," said his father.

  "A what?" asked Rollo.

  "A nothing," replied his father, "it is just A. Now, what is it?"

  "Just A," said Rollo.

  "Do not be flip, my son," said Mr. Holliday, "but attend to your lesson.What letter is this?"

  "I dunno," said Rollo.

  "Don't fib to me," said his father, gently, "you said a minute ago thatyou knew. That is N."

  "Yes, sir," replied Rollo, meekly. Rollo, although he was a little boy,was no slouch, if he did wear bibs; he knew where he lived withoutlooking at the door-plate. When it came time to be meek, there was noboy this side of the planet Mars who could be meeker, on shorter notice.So
he said, "Yes, sir," with that subdued and well pleased alacrity of aboy who has just been asked to guess the answer to the conundrum, "Willyou have another piece of pie?"

  "Well," said his father, rather suddenly, "what is it?"

  "M," said Rollo, confidently.

  "N!" yelled his father, in three-line Gothic.

  "N," echoed Rollo, in lower case nonpareil.

  "B-a-n," said his father, "what does that spell?"

  "Cat?" suggested Rollo, a trifle uncertainly.

  "Cat?" snapped his father, with a sarcastic inflection, "b-a-n, cat!Where were you raised? Ban! B-a-n--Ban! Say it! Say it, or I'll get atyou with a skate-strap!"

  "B-a-m, band," said Rollo, who was beginning to wish that he had arain-check and could come back and see the remaining innings some otherday.

  "Ba-a-a-an!" shouted his father, "B-a-n, Ban, Ban, Ban! Now say Ban!"

  "Ban," said Rollo, with a little gasp.

  "That's right," his father said, in an encouraging tone; "you will learnto read one of these years if you give your mind to it. All he needs,you see, Mary, is a teacher who doesn't lose patience with him the firsttime he makes a mistake. Now, Rollo, how do you spell, B-a-n--Ban?"

  Rollo started out timidly on c-a--then changed to d-o,--and finallycompromised on h-e-n.

  Mr. Holiday made a pass at him with Volume I, but Rollo saw it comingand got out of the way.

  "B-a-n!" his father shouted, "B-a-n, Ban! Ban! Ban! Ban! Ban! Now go on,if you think you know how to spell that! What comes next? Oh, you'reenough to tire the patience of Job! I've a good mind to make you learnby the Pollard system, and begin where you leave off! Go ahead, whydon't you? Whatta you waiting for? Read on! What comes next? Why, croft,of course; anybody ought to know that--c-r-o-f-t, croft, Bancroft! Whatdoes that apostrophe mean? I mean, what does that punctuation markbetween t and s stand for? You don't know? Take that, then! (whack).What comes after Bancroft? Spell it! Spell it, I tell you, and don't beall night about it! Can't, eh? Well, read it then; if you can't spellit, read it. H-i-s-t-o-r-y-ry, history; Bancroft's History of the UnitedStates! Now what does that spell? I mean, spell that! Spell it! Oh, goaway! Go to bed! Stupid, stupid child," he added as the little boy wentweeping out of the room, "he'll never learn anything so long as helives. I declare he has tired me all out, and I used to teach school inTrivoli township, too. Taught one whole winter in district number threewhen Nick Worthington was county superintendent, and had my salary--lookhere, Mary, what do you find in that English grammar to giggle about?You go to bed, too, and listen to me--if Rollo can't read that wholebook clear through without making a mistake to-morrow night, you'll wishyou had been born without a back, that's all."