Part 18

Every time we avalanched from one end of the stage to the other, the Unabridged Dictionary would come too; and every time it came it damaged somebody. One trip 30 it "barked" the Secretary's elbow; the next trip it hurt me in the stomach; and the third it tilted Bemis's nose up till he could look down his nostrils--he said. The pistols and coin soon settled to the bottom, but the pipes, pipestems, tobacco, and canteens clattered and floundered after the Dictionary every time it made an assault on us, and aided and abetted the book by spilling tobacco in 5 our eyes and water down our backs.

Still, all things considered, it was a very comfortable night. It wore gradually away, and when at last a cold, gray light was visible through the puckers and chinks in the curtains, we yawned and stretched with satisfaction, 10 shed our cocoons, and felt that we had slept as much as was necessary. By and by, as the sun rose up and warmed the world, we pulled off our clothes and got ready for breakfast. We were just pleasantly in time, for five minutes afterward the driver sent the weird music of his bugle winding over 15 the grassy solitudes, and presently we detected a low hut or two in the distance. Then the rattling of the coach, the clatter of our six horses' hoofs, and the driver's crisp commands, awoke to a louder and stronger emphasis, and we went sweeping down on the station at our smartest speed. 20 It was fascinating--that old Overland stagecoaching.

We jumped out in undress uniform. The driver tossed his gathered reins out on the ground, gaped and stretched complacently, drew off his heavy buckskin gloves with great deliberation and insufferable dignity--taking not 25 the slightest notice of a dozen solicitous inquiries after his health, and humbly facetious and flattering accostings, and obsequious tenders of service, from five or six hairy and half-civilized station keepers and hostlers who were nimbly unhitching our steeds and bringing the fresh team out of the 30 stables--for in the eyes of the stage driver of that day, station keepers and hostlers were a sort of good-enough low creatures, useful in their place and helping to make up a world, but not the kind of beings which a person of distinction could afford to concern himself with; while on the contrary, in the eyes of the station keeper and the hostler, the stage driver was a hero--a great and shining dignitary; 5 the world's favorite son, the envy of the people, the observed of the nations.

When they spoke to him they received his insolent silence meekly and as being the natural and proper conduct of so great a man; when he opened his lips 10 they all hung on his words with admiration (he never honored a particular individual with a remark, but addressed it with a broad generality to the horses, the stables, the surrounding country, and the human underlings); when he discharged a facetious insulting personality at a hostler, 15 that hostler was happy for the day; when he uttered his one jest--old as the hills, coarse, profane, witless, and inflicted on the same audience, in that same language, every time his coach drove up there--the varlets roared, and slapped their thighs, and swore it was the best thing they'd 20 ever heard in all their lives. And how they would fly around when he wanted a basin of water, a gourd of the same, or a light for his pipe!--but they would instantly insult a passenger if he so far forgot himself as to crave a favor at their hands. They could do that sort of insolence as 25 well as the driver they copied it from--for, let it be borne in mind, the Overland driver had but little less contempt for his passengers than he had for his hostlers.

The hostlers and station keepers treated the really powerful conductor of the coach merely with the best 30 of what was their idea of civility, but the driver was the only being they bowed down to and worshiped. How admiringly they would gaze up at him in his high seat as he gloved himself with lingering deliberation, while some happy hostler held the bunch of reins aloft and waited patiently for him to take it! And how they would bombard him with glorifying ejaculations as he cracked his long whip 5 and went careering away.

The station buildings were long, low huts, made of sun-dried, mud-colored bricks, laid up without mortar (_adobes_, the Spaniards call these bricks, and Americans shorten it to _'dobies_). The roofs, which had no slant to them worth 10 speaking of, were thatched and then sodded, or covered with a thick layer of earth, and from this sprang a pretty rank growth of weeds and grass. It was the first time we had ever seen a man's front yard on top of his house. The buildings consisted of barns, stable room for twelve or 15 fifteen horses, and a hut for an eating room for passengers. This latter had bunks in it for the station keeper and a hostler or two. You could rest your elbow on its eaves, and you had to bend in order to get in at the door. In place of a window there was a square hole about large enough 20 for a man to crawl through, but this had no glass in it. There was no flooring, but the ground was packed hard. There were no shelves, no cupboards, no closets. In a corner stood an open sack of flour, and nestling against its base were a couple of black and venerable tin coffeepots, 25 a tin teapot, a little bag of salt, and a side of bacon.

By the door of the station keeper's den, outside, was a tin washbasin, on the ground. Near it was a pail of water and a piece of yellow bar soap, and from the eaves hung a hoary blue-woolen shirt, significantly--but this latter was 30 the station keeper's private towel, and only two persons in all the party might venture to use it--the stage driver and the conductor. The latter would not, from a sense of decency; the former would not, because he did not choose to encourage the advances of a station keeper. We had towels--in the valise; they might as well have been in Sodom and Gomorrah. 5

We (and the conductor) used our handkerchiefs, and the driver his pantaloons and sleeves. By the door, inside, was fastened a small old-fashioned looking-glass frame, with two little fragments of the original mirror lodged down in one corner of it. This arrangement afforded 10 a pleasant double-barreled portrait of you when you looked into it, with one half of your head set up a couple of inches above the other half. From the glass frame hung the half a comb by a string--but if I had to describe that patriarch or die, I believe I would order some sample 15 coffins. It had come down from Esau and Samson, and had been accumulating hair ever since--along with certain impurities. In one corner of the room stood three or four rifles and muskets, together with horns and pouches of ammunition. 20

The station men wore pantaloons of coarse country-woven stuff, and into the seat and the inside of the legs were sewed ample additions of buckskin to do duty in place of leggings when the man rode horseback--so the pants were half dull blue and half yellow, and 25 unspeakably picturesque. The pants were stuffed into the tops of high boots, the heels whereof were armed with great Spanish spurs whose little iron clogs and chains jingled with every step. The man wore a huge beard and mustachios, an old slouch hat, a blue-woolen shirt, no 30 suspenders, no vest, no coat; in a leathern sheath in his belt, a great long "navy" revolver (slung on right side, hammer to the front), and projecting from his boot a horn-handled bowie knife. The furniture of the hut was neither gorgeous nor much in the way. The rocking-chairs and sofas were not present and never had been, but they were represented by two three-legged stools, a pine-board bench 5 four feet long, and two empty candle boxes. The table was a greasy board on stilts, and the tablecloth and napkins had not come--and they were not looking for them, either. A battered tin platter, a knife and fork, and a tin pint cup, were at each man's place, and the driver had a queen's-ware 10 saucer that had seen better days. Of course this duke sat at the head of the table.

There was one isolated piece of table furniture that bore about it a touching air of grandeur in misfortune. This was the caster. It was German silver and crippled and rusty, 15 but it was so preposterously out of place there that it was suggestive of a tattered exiled king among barbarians, and the majesty of its native position compelled respect even in its degradation. There was only one cruet left, and that was a stopperless, fly-specked, broken-necked 20 thing, with two inches of vinegar in it and a dozen preserved flies with their heels up and looking sorry they had invested there.

The station keeper upended a disk of last week's bread, of the shape and size of an old-time cheese, and carved some 25 slabs from it which were as good as Nicholson pavement, and tenderer.

He sliced off a piece of bacon for each man, but only the experienced old hands made out to eat it, for it was condemned army bacon which the United States would not feed 30 to its soldiers in the forts, and the stage company had bought it cheap for the sustenance of their passengers and employees. We may have found this condemned army bacon further out on the plains than the section I am locating it in, but we _found_ it--there is no gainsaying that.

Then he poured for us a beverage which he called _slumgullion_ and it is hard to think he was not inspired when 5 he named it. It really pretended to be tea, but there was too much dishrag, and sand, and old bacon rind in it to deceive the intelligent traveler. He had no sugar and no milk--not even a spoon to stir the ingredients with.

We could not eat the bread or the meat, or drink the 10 "slumgullion." And when I looked at that melancholy vinegar cruet, I thought of the anecdote (a very, very old one, even at that day) of the traveler who sat down at a table which had nothing on it but a mackerel and a pot of mustard. He asked the landlord if this was all. The 15 landlord said:

"_All!_ Why, thunder and lightning, I should think there was mackerel enough there for six."

"But I don't like mackerel."

"Oh--then help yourself to the mustard." 20

--_Roughing It._

1. How much of this selection is given over to a description of actual travel inside a stagecoach? To what is the remainder devoted?

2. Re-read only the description of the night's traveling and decide which parts of it are most humorous. Why are they funny?

3. Describe the driver. Make a sketch of him.

4. How much of the central paragraph, page 257, is serious description? What parts of it are humorous? Test your answer by reading the paragraph with the humor omitted.

5. Much of Twain's humor depends on an occasional single sentence or a startling word. Prove or disprove this statement.

6. Report fully on Samuel L. Clemens's life. If possible, read his _Huckleberry Finn_ and _Tom Sawyer_.

THE CHAMELEON

BY JAMES MERRICK

Two travelers of conceited cast, As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed, And on their way, in friendly chat, Now talked of this and then of that, Discoursed awhile 'mongst other matter 5 Of the chameleon's form and nature.

"A stranger animal," cries one, "Sure never lived beneath the sun; A lizard's body, lean and long; A fish's head; a serpent's tongue; 10 Its foot with triple claw disjoined; And what a length of tail behind! How slow its pace! And then its hue!-- Who ever saw so fine a blue?"

"Hold, there!" the other quick replies; 15 "'Tis _green_--I saw it with these eyes, As late with open mouth it lay, And warmed it in the sunny ray; Stretched at its ease, the beast I viewed, And saw it eat the air for food." 20

"I've seen it, sir, as well as you, And must again affirm it blue. At leisure I the beast surveyed, Extended in the cooling shade."

"'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye." "Green!" cries the other in a fury; "Why, sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes?" "'Twere no great loss," the friend replies, "For if they always serve you thus, 5 You'll find them of but little use."

So high at last the contest rose, From words they almost came to blows; When luckily came by a third-- To him the question they referred, 10 And begged he'd tell them, if he knew, Whether the thing was green, or blue.

"Sirs," cries the umpire, "cease your pother! The creature's neither one nor t'other. I caught the animal last night, 15 And viewed it o'er by candle light; I marked it well--'twas black as jet; You stare--but, sirs, I've got it yet, And can produce it." "Pray, sir, do; I'll lay my life the thing is blue." 20 "And I'll engage that when you've seen The reptile, you'll pronounce him green."

"Well, then, at once to ease the doubt," Replies the man, "I'll turn him out; And when before your eyes I've set him, 25 If you don't find him black, I'll eat him." He said: then full before their sight Produced the beast, and lo--'twas white!

Both stared; the man looked wondrous wise!-- "My children," the chameleon cries (Then first the creature found a tongue), "You all are right, and all are wrong, When next you talk of what you view, 5 Think others see as well as you; Nor wonder if you find that none Prefers your eyesight to his own."

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 distinct 20 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