Part 20

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.

1. What kind of vehicle did the Deacon build? What was his theory as to building a "shay"?

2. How did he carry out his theory? Read the passages that answer this question. Make a list of the special parts of the chaise named.

3. On what day did the Deacon complete his task? Is Holmes correct as to the dates of Braddock's defeat and the Lisbon earthquake?

4. Explain lines 10-11, page 286; 8, 17, 27, page 289; 17, page 290.

5. What happened finally to the "masterpiece"? Was the Deacon still living? How did the chaise happen to go to pieces? Was the Deacon's theory of building correct?

6. Suggested readings: Holmes's "How the Old Horse Won the Bet"; Lowell's "The Courtin'."

THE SCHOOLMASTER'S RIDE

BY WASHINGTON IRVING

The time of this story is post-Revolutionary. Ichabod Crane, a lean, awkward schoolmaster, has been courting the village belle, Katrina Van Tassel, his rival being Brom Bones, a powerful fellow, noted for his pugnacity. He has frequently threatened Ichabod for aspiring to the charming Katrina. Here, Ichabod, at a late hour, is leaving the Van Tassel home after a "quilting frolic" where he took occasion to propose to Katrina. Judge of the young lady's answer!

Ichabod, heavy-hearted and crestfallen, pursued his travel homewards, along the sides of the lofty hills which rise above Tarrytown. The hour was as dismal as himself. Far below him the Tappan Zee spread its dusky and indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the 5 tall mast of a sloop riding quietly at anchor under the land. In the dead hush of midnight he could even hear the barking of the watchdog from the opposite shore of the Hudson; but it was so vague and faint as only to give an idea of his great distance from this faithful companion of 10 man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off, from some farmhouse away among the hills. No signs of life occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholy chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bullfrog 15 from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably and turning suddenly in his bed.

The night grew darker and darker, the stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and 20 dismal. In the center of the road stood an enormous tulip tree, which towered like a giant above all the other trees of the neighborhood and formed a kind of landmark. It was connected with the tragical story of the unfortunate André, who had been taken prisoner hard by, and was 5 universally known by the name of Major André's Tree. The common people regarded it with a mixture of respect and superstition.

As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to whistle. He thought his whistle was answered. It was 10 but a blast sweeping through the dry branches. As he approached a little nearer, he thought he saw something white hanging in the midst of the tree. He paused and ceased whistling; but on looking more narrowly, perceived that it was a place where the tree had been scathed by 15 lightning and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard a groan. His teeth chattered, and his knees smote against the saddle. It was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon another as they were swayed about by the breeze. He passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him. 20

About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook crossed the road and ran into a marshy and thickly wooded glen, known by the name of Wiley's Swamp. A few rough logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream. To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was at this 25 identical spot that the unfortunate André was captured, and this has ever since been considered a haunted stream, and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who has to pass it alone after dark.

As he approached the stream his heart began to thump. 30 He summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave his horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to dash briskly across the bridge. But instead of starting forward, the perverse old animal made a lateral movement and ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased with the delay, jerked the reins on the other side and kicked lustily with the contrary foot. It was all in 5 vain. His steed started, it is true, but it was only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket of brambles and alder bushes.

The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed 10 forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just by the bridge with a suddenness which had nearly sent his rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp on the bank of the stream, by the side of the bridge, caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the 15 dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the murmuring brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathering up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveler. 20

The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. What was to be done? To turn and fly was now too late. Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he demanded, in stammering tones, "_Who are you?_" He received no reply. 25

He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgeled the sides of the inflexible Gunpowder, and shutting his eyes, broke forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a 30 scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road.

Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form of the unknown might now, in some degree, be ascertained. He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions and mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He made no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on one side of the road. Ichabod, who had no relish for this 5 strange midnight companion, now quickened his steed in hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind. The other did the same. His heart began to sink within him. He endeavored 10 to resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave.

There was something in the moody and dogged silence of this pertinacious companion that was mysterious and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On 15 mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellow traveler in relief against the sky, gigantic in height and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving that he was headless! But his horror was still more increased on observing that the head which should have 20 rested on his shoulders was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle! His terror rose to desperation. He rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, hoping by a sudden movement to give his companion the slip. But the specter started full jump with him. Away 25 then they dashed, through thick and thin, stones flying and sparks flashing at every bound.

An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopes that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that 30 he was not mistaken. "If I can but reach that bridge," thought Ichabod, "I am safe." Just then he heard the black steed panting and blowing close behind him; he even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang upon the bridge; he thundered over the resounding planks; he gained the opposite side; and now Ichabod 5 cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish, according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered 10 his cranium with a tremendous crash. He was tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed, and the goblin rider passed by like a whirlwind.

The next morning the old horse was found without his saddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping 15 the grass at his master's gate, while near the bridge, on the bank of a broad part of the brook where the water ran deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it--_a shattered pumpkin_!

--_A Legend of Sleepy Hollow._

1. You should read the entire "Legend" (see Irving's _Sketch Book_) and enjoy the detailed incidents leading up to this climax. Of course Ichabod leaves Sleepy Hollow, never to return. What evidence is there that Brom Bones was the ghost?

2. A ghost was supposed not to be able to cross running water. What evidence of this do you find in the story?

3. Why was Ichabod "heavy-hearted and crestfallen"? Give two reasons.

4. Pick out the elements of the first two paragraphs that make the situation appear lonely.

5. Who was Major André? Why should Ichabod have especially feared the André tree?

6. What is there in this selection that is humorous?

SIGNING PETITIONS

"Another petition!" exclaimed the banker. "No, I never sign them offhand--not any more. I used to do so--once to my sorrow and to the amusement of my friends. Leave yours with me till day after to-morrow and I'll consider it. I have at least four more now on the waiting 5 list, ranging in subject from the Removal of a Soap Factory to a Bridge Across the Pacific. Every business man is hounded week in and week out with petitions."

I reluctantly surrendered my long scroll with its formidable list of signatures. "But _the_ one that you once signed--what 10 of that?"

"Oh, that one? Well, there was a bright newsboy down on the square whose booth had been removed from a street corner because of a petition to the Police Commissioner. Of course everybody had signed the petition; for signing 15 petitions was considered the proper thing if certain names headed the list. It came to be a roster of the best families in town. This newsboy retaliated--in kind. He drafted and circulated a petition that was in due form. Everybody, including myself, signed it. Next day it was published in 20 full with the names of its signers, by all our city papers, and by night everybody in the state was laughing at us.

"The petition recited that a sundial in Central Park, the gift of a wealthy citizen, was weathering badly. It should be protected. That sounded reasonable, so everybody 25 signed just below the name of everybody else. And what had we petitioned for? _A roof to cover that sundial!_

"You'll get no hasty signatures to a petition in this city--we remember the sundial!"

_IN TIME OF