Journeys Through Bookland Volume Vi Part 55

'Raich hether that bone o' sheep's head we had at dinner yesterday, Nell,' says the man o' the house.

'Oyeh, don't mind it,' says my father; 'let it be as it is.'

'Sure if it improves it, you may as well,' says they.

'Baithershin!' says my father, putting it down.

So after boiling it a good piece longer, ''Tis fine limestone broth,'

says he, 'as ever was tasted, and if a man had a few piatez,' says he, looking at a pot o' them that was smoking in the chimney corner, 'he couldn't desire a better dinner.'

They gave him the piatez, and he made a good dinner of themselves and the broth, not forgetting the bone, which he polished equal to chaney before he let it go. The people themselves tasted it, an' tho't it as good as any mutton broth in the world."

THE KNOCKOUT

_Adapted From The Autobiography of_ DAVY CROCKETT

One day as I was walking through the woods, I came to a clearing on a hillside, and as I climbed the slope I was startled by loud, profane and boisterous voices which seemed to proceed from a thick cover of undergrowth about two hundred yards in advance of me.

"You kin, kin you?"

"Yes I kin and I'm able to do it! Boo-oo-oo!--O wake snakes, brimstone and fire! Don't hold me, Nick Stoval; the fight's made up and I'll jump down your throat before you kin say 'quit.'"

"Now Nick, don't hold him! Just let the wildcat come, and I'll tame him.

Ned'll see me a fair fight, won't you Ned?"

"O yes, I'll see you a fair fight; blast my old shoes if I don't."

"That's sufficient, as Tom Haines said when he saw the elephant; now let him come."

Thus they went on with countless oaths and with much that I could not distinctly hear. In mercy's name, I thought, what a band of ruffians is at work here. I quickened my gait and had come nearly opposite the thick grove, whence the noises proceeded, when my eye caught, indistinctly through the foliage of the scrub oaks and hickories that intervened, glimpses of a man or men who seemed to be in a violent struggle.

Occasionally, too, I could catch those deep-drawn, emphatic oaths which men utter when they deal heavy blows in conflict. As I was hurrying to the spot, I saw the combatants fall to the ground, and after a short struggle I saw the uppermost one (for I could not see the others) make a heavy plunge with both his thumbs. At the same instant I heard a cry in the accent of keenest torture--"Enough, my eye is out."

For a moment I stood completely horror-struck. The accomplices in this brutal deed had apparently all fled at my approach, for not a one was to be seen.

"Now blast your corn-shucking soul," said the victor, a lad of about eighteen, as he arose from the ground, "come cuttin' your shines 'bout me agin next time I come to the court-house will you? Get your owl-eye in agin if you kin."

At this moment he saw me for the first time. He looked frightened and was about to run away when I called out--"Come back, you brute, and help me relieve the poor critter you have ruined forever."

Upon this rough salutation he stopped, and with a taunting curl of the nose, replied. "You needn't kick before you're spurred. There an't n.o.body here nor han't been, nuther. I was just seeing how I could have fout." So saying, he pointed to his plow, which stood in the corner of the fence about fifty yards from the battle ground. Would any man in his senses believe that a rational being could make such a fool of himself?

All that I had heard and seen was nothing more nor less than a rehearsal of a knock-down and drag-out fight in which the young man had played all the parts for his own amus.e.m.e.nt. I went to the ground from which he had risen, and there were the prints of his two thumbs plunged up to the b.a.l.l.s in the mellow earth, and the ground around was broken up as if two stags had been fighting on it.

As I resumed my journey, I laughed outright at this adventure, for it reminded me of Andrew Jackson's attack on the United States bank. He had magnified it into a monster and then began to swear and gouge until he thought he had the monster on his back, and when the fight was over and he got up to look for his enemy, he could find none anywhere.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE COUNTRY SQUIRE

_Translated From The Spanish of_ THOMAS YRIARTE

A country squire of greater wealth than wit (For fools are often blessed with fortune's smile), Had built a splendid house and furnished it In splendid style.

"One thing is wanting," said a friend; "for though The rooms are fine, the furniture profuse, You lack a library, dear sir, for show, If not for use."

"'Tis true, but zounds!" replied the squire with glee, "The lumber-room in yonder northern wing (I wonder I ne'er thought of it) will be The very thing.

"I'll have it fitted up without delay With shelves and presses of the newest mode, And rarest wood, befitting every way A squire's abode.

"And when the whole is ready, I'll dispatch My coachman--a most knowing fellow--down To buy me, by admeasurement, a batch Of books in town."

But ere the library was half supplied With all its pomps of cabinet and shelf, The b.o.o.by squire repented him, and cried Unto himself:

"This room is much more roomy than I thought; Ten thousand volumes hardly would suffice To fill it, and would cost, however bought, A plaguey price.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SQUIRE'S LIBRARY]

"Now, as I only want them for their looks, It might, on second thoughts, be just as good, And cost me next to nothing, if the books Were made of wood.

"It shall be so, I'll give the shaven deal A coat of paint--a colorable dress, To look like calf or vellum and conceal Its nakedness.

"And, gilt and lettered with the author's name, Whatever is most excellent and rare Shall be, or seem to be ('tis all the same), a.s.sembled there."

The work was done, the simulated h.o.a.rds Of wit and wisdom round the chamber stood, In binding some; and some, of course, in _boards_ Where all were wood.

From bulky folios down to slender twelves The choicest tomes, in many an even row Displayed their lettered backs upon the shelves, A goodly show.

With such a stock as seemingly surpa.s.sed The best collections ever formed in Spain, What wonder if the owner grew at last Supremely vain?

What wonder, as he paced from shelf to shelf And conned their t.i.tles, that the squire began, Despite his ignorance, to think himself A learned man?

Let every amateur, who merely looks To backs and binding, take the hint, and sell His costly library--_for painted books Would serve as well_.

Poetry means more to us and we get more enjoyment from reading it when we understand some of the difficulties that the poet has in writing it and can recognize those things which make it poetry in form.

For instance, you will notice in the poem which we have just read that every stanza has four lines; that, in printing, the first and third lines begin close to the margin, while the second and fourth lines begin a little farther in on the page--that is, they are _indented_. Now if you will look at the ends of the lines you will see that the words with which the first and third lines terminate are in rhyme, and that the words with which the second and fourth lines terminate are in rhyme. In other words, the indentation at beginning of lines in poetry calls attention to the rhymes.

It is true throughout _The Country Squire_ that every pair of lines taken alternately ends in rhymes which are perfect or nearly so.

Now a perfect rhyme is one in which the two rhyming syllables are both accented, the vowel sound and the consonants which follow the vowels are identical, and the sounds preceding the vowel are different. For instance, the words _smile_ and _style_ rhyme. Both of these are monosyllables and hence accented. The vowel sound is the long sound of _i_; the consonant sound of _l_ follows. The sounds preceding the _i_ are similar but not identical, represented by _sm_ in the first case and _st_ in the second. In the fifth stanza the first line ends with the word _dispatch_, the third with the word _batch_. This rhyme is perfect, because the accent on the word _dispatch_ is naturally on the second syllable. In the ninth stanza the word _dress_ is made to rhyme with _nakedness_. This is not strictly perfect, for the natural accent of _nakedness_ is on the first syllable.

It may be interesting for beginners to work out the rhyme scheme of a poem and write it down. This is very easily done. Take the first stanza in _The Country Squire_. Represent the rhyming syllable of the first line by _a_, the rhyming syllable of the second line by _b_. It follows then that the rhyming syllable of the third line must be represented by _a_, and the rhyming syllable of the fourth line by _b_. Writing these letters in succession we have the nonsense word _abab_, which will always stand for stanzas of this kind. If you are interested in this turn to the studies at the end of the next poem, _To My Infant Son_.