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diff --git a/857-h/857-h.htm b/857-h/857-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..778d80a --- /dev/null +++ b/857-h/857-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1161 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Evergreens, by Jerome K. Jerome + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Evergreens, by Jerome K. Jerome + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Evergreens + From a volume entitled "Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow" + +Author: Jerome K. Jerome + +Release Date: July 26, 2008 [EBook #857] +Last Updated: January 15, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVERGREENS *** + + + + +Produced by Ron Burkey, Amy Thomte, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + EVERGREENS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Jerome K. Jerome + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + They look so dull and dowdy in the spring weather, when the snow drops and + the crocuses are putting on their dainty frocks of white and mauve and + yellow, and the baby-buds from every branch are peeping with bright eyes + out on the world, and stretching forth soft little leaves toward the + coming gladness of their lives. They stand apart, so cold and hard amid + the stirring hope and joy that are throbbing all around them. + </p> + <p> + And in the deep full summer-time, when all the rest of nature dons its + richest garb of green, and the roses clamber round the porch, and the + grass waves waist-high in the meadow, and the fields are gay with flowers—they + seem duller and dowdier than ever then, wearing their faded winter's + dress, looking so dingy and old and worn. + </p> + <p> + In the mellow days of autumn, when the trees, like dames no longer young, + seek to forget their aged looks under gorgeous bright-toned robes of gold + and brown and purple, and the grain is yellow in the fields, and the ruddy + fruit hangs clustering from the drooping boughs, and the wooded hills in + their thousand hues stretched like leafy rainbows above the vale—ah! + surely they look their dullest and dowdiest then. The gathered glory of + the dying year is all around them. They seem so out of place among it, in + their somber, everlasting green, like poor relations at a rich man's + feast. It is such a weather-beaten old green dress. So many summers' suns + have blistered it, so many winters' rains have beat upon it—such a + shabby, mean, old dress; it is the only one they have! + </p> + <p> + They do not look quite so bad when the weary winter weather is come, when + the flowers are dead, and the hedgerows are bare, and the trees stand out + leafless against the gray sky, and the birds are all silent, and the + fields are brown, and the vine clings round the cottages with skinny, + fleshless arms, and they alone of all things are unchanged, they alone of + all the forest are green, they alone of all the verdant host stand firm to + front the cruel winter. + </p> + <p> + They are not very beautiful, only strong and stanch and steadfast—the + same in all times, through all seasons—ever the same, ever green. + The spring cannot brighten them, the summer cannot scorch them, the autumn + cannot wither them, the winter cannot kill them. + </p> + <p> + There are evergreen men and women in the world, praise be to God! Not many + of them, but a few. They are not the showy folk; they are not the clever, + attractive folk. (Nature is an old-fashioned shopkeeper; she never puts + her best goods in the window.) They are only the quiet, strong folk; they + are stronger than the world, stronger than life or death, stronger than + Fate. The storms of life sweep over them, and the rains beat down upon + them, and the biting frosts creep round them; but the winds and the rains + and the frosts pass away, and they are still standing, green and straight. + They love the sunshine of life in their undemonstrative way—its + pleasures, its joys. But calamity cannot bow them, sorrow and affliction + bring not despair to their serene faces, only a little tightening of the + lips; the sun of our prosperity makes the green of their friendship no + brighter, the frost of our adversity kills not the leaves of their + affection. + </p> + <p> + Let us lay hold of such men and women; let us grapple them to us with + hooks of steel; let us cling to them as we would to rocks in a tossing + sea. We do not think very much of them in the summertime of life. They do + not flatter us or gush over us. They do not always agree with us. They are + not always the most delightful society, by any means. They are not good + talkers, nor—which would do just as well, perhaps better—do + they make enraptured listeners. They have awkward manners, and very little + tact. They do not shine to advantage beside our society friends. They do + not dress well; they look altogether somewhat dowdy and commonplace. We + almost hope they will not see us when we meet them just outside the club. + They are not the sort of people we want to ostentatiously greet in crowded + places. It is not till the days of our need that we learn to love and know + them. It is not till the winter that the birds see the wisdom of building + their nests in the evergreen trees. + </p> + <p> + And we, in our spring-time folly of youth, pass them by with a sneer, the + uninteresting, colorless evergreens, and, like silly children with nothing + but eyes in their heads, stretch out our hands and cry for the pretty + flowers. We will make our little garden of life such a charming, + fairy-like spot, the envy of every passer-by! There shall nothing grow in + it but lilies and roses, and the cottage we will cover all over with + Virginia-creeper. And, oh, how sweet it will look, under the dancing + summer sun-light, when the soft west breeze is blowing! + </p> + <p> + And, oh, how we shall stand and shiver there when the rain and the east + wind come! + </p> + <p> + Oh, you foolish, foolish little maidens, with your dainty heads so full of + unwisdom! how often—oh! how often, are you to be warned that it is + not always the sweetest thing in lovers that is the best material to make + a good-wearing husband out of? "The lover sighing like a furnace" will not + go on sighing like a furnace forever. That furnace will go out. He will + become the husband, "full of strange oaths—jealous in honor, sudden + and quick in quarrel," and grow "into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon." + How will he wear? There will be no changing him if he does not suit, no + sending him back to be altered, no having him let out a bit where he is + too tight and hurts you, no having him taken in where he is too loose, no + laying him by when the cold comes, to wrap yourself up in something + warmer. As he is when you select him, so he will have to last you all your + life—through all changes, through all seasons. + </p> + <p> + Yes, he looks very pretty now—handsome pattern, if the colors are + fast and it does not fade—feels soft and warm to the touch. How will + he stand the world's rough weather? How will he stand life's wear and + tear? + </p> + <p> + He looks so manly and brave. His hair curls so divinely. He dresses so + well (I wonder if the tailor's bill is paid?) He kisses your hand so + gracefully. He calls you such pretty names. His arm feels so strong a + round you. His fine eyes are so full of tenderness as they gaze down into + yours. + </p> + <p> + Will he kiss your hand when it is wrinkled and old? Will he call you + pretty names when the baby is crying in the night, and you cannot keep it + quiet—or, better still, will he sit up and take a turn with it? Will + his arm be strong around you in the days of trouble? Will his eyes shine + above you full of tenderness when yours are growing dim? + </p> + <p> + And you boys, you silly boys! what materials for a wife do you think you + will get out of the empty-headed coquettes you are raving and tearing your + hair about. Oh! yes, she is very handsome, and she dresses with exquisite + taste (the result of devoting the whole of her heart, mind and soul to the + subject, and never allowing her thoughts to be distracted from it by any + other mundane or celestial object whatsoever); and she is very agreeable + and entertaining and fascinating; and she will go on looking handsome, and + dressing exquisitely, and being agreeable and entertaining and fascinating + just as much after you have married her as before—more so, if + anything. + </p> + <p> + But <i>you</i> will not get the benefit of it. Husbands will be charmed + and fascinated by her in plenty, but <i>you</i> will not be among them. + You will run the show, you will pay all the expenses, do all the work. + Your performing lady will be most affable and enchanting to the crowd. + They will stare at her, and admire her, and talk to her, and flirt with + her. And you will be able to feel that you are quite a benefactor to your + fellow-men and women—to your fellow-men especially—in + providing such delightful amusement for them, free. But <i>you</i> will + not get any of the fun yourself. + </p> + <p> + You will not get the handsome looks. <i>You</i> will get the jaded face, + and the dull, lusterless eyes, and the untidy hair with the dye showing on + it. You will not get the exquisite dresses. <i>You</i> will get dirty, + shabby frocks and slommicking dressing-gowns, such as your cook would be + ashamed to wear. <i>You</i> will not get the charm and fascination. <i>You</i> + will get the after-headaches, the complainings and grumblings, the silence + and sulkiness, the weariness and lassitude and ill-temper that comes as + such a relief after working hard all day at being pleasant! + </p> + <p> + It is not the people who shine in society, but the people who brighten up + the back parlor; not the people who are charming when they are out, but + the people who are charming when they are in, that are good to <i>live</i> + with. It is not the brilliant men and women, but the simple, strong, + restful men and women, that make the best traveling companions for the + road of life. The men and women who will only laugh as they put up the + umbrella when the rain begins to fall, who will trudge along cheerfully + through the mud and over the stony places—the comrades who will lay + their firm hand on ours and strengthen us when the way is dark and we are + growing weak—the evergreen men and women, who, like the holly, are + at their brightest and best when the blast blows chilliest—the + stanch men and women! + </p> + <p> + It is a grand thing this stanchness. It is the difference between a dog + and a sheep—between a man and an oyster. + </p> + <p> + Women, as a rule, are stancher than men. There are women that you feel you + could rely upon to the death. But very few men indeed have this dog-like + virtue. Men, taking them generally, are more like cats. You may live with + them and call them yours for twenty years, but you can never feel <i>quite</i> + sure of them. You never know exactly what they are thinking of. You never + feel easy in your mind as to the result of the next-door neighbor's laying + down a Brussels carpet in his kitchen. + </p> + <p> + We have no school for the turning-out of stanch men in this nineteenth + century. In the old, earnest times, war made men stanch and true to each + other. We have learned up a good many glib phrases about the wickedness of + war, and we thank God that we live in these peaceful, trading times, + wherein we can—and do—devote the whole of our thoughts and + energies to robbing and cheating and swindling one another—to + "doing" our friends, and overcoming our enemies by trickery and lies—wherein, + undisturbed by the wicked ways of fighting-men, we can cultivate to better + perfection the "smartness," the craft, and the cunning, and all the other + "business-like" virtues on which we so pride ourselves, and which were so + neglected and treated with so little respect in the bad old age of + violence, when men chose lions and eagles for their symbols rather than + foxes. + </p> + <p> + There is a good deal to be said against war. I am not prepared to maintain + that war did not bring with it disadvantages, but there can be no doubt + that, for the noblest work of Nature—the making of men—it was + a splendid manufactory. It taught men courage. It trained them in + promptness and determination, in strength of brain and strength of hand. + From its stern lessons they learned fortitude in suffering, coolness in + danger, cheerfulness under reverses. Chivalry, Reverence, and Loyalty are + the beautiful children of ugly War. But, above all gifts, the greatest + gift it gave to men was stanchness. + </p> + <p> + It first taught men to be true to one another; to be true to their duty, + true to their post; to be in all things faithful, even unto death. + </p> + <p> + The martyrs that died at the stake; the explorers that fought with Nature + and opened up the world for us; the reformers (they had to do something + more than talk in those days) who won for us our liberties; the men who + gave their lives to science and art, when science and art brought, not as + now, fame and fortune, but shame and penury—they sprang from the + loins of the rugged men who had learned, on many a grim battlefield, to + laugh at pain and death, who had had it hammered into them, with many a + hard blow, that the whole duty of a man in this world is to be true to his + trust, and fear not. + </p> + <p> + Do you remember the story of the old Viking who had been converted to + Christianity, and who, just as they were about, with much joy, to baptize + him, paused and asked: "But what—if this, as you tell me, is the + only way to the true Valhalla—what has become of my comrades, my + friends who are dead, who died in the old faith—where are they?" + </p> + <p> + The priests, confused, replied there could be no doubt those unfortunate + folk had gone to a place they would rather not mention. + </p> + <p> + "Then," said the old warrior, stepping back, "I will not be baptized. I + will go along with my own people." + </p> + <p> + He had lived with them, fought beside them; they were his people. He would + stand by them to the end—of eternity. Most assuredly, a very + shocking old Viking! But I think it might be worth while giving up our + civilization and our culture to get back to the days when they made men + like that. + </p> + <p> + The only reminder of such times that we have left us now, is the bull-dog; + and he is fast dying out—the pity of it! What a splendid old dog he + is! so grim, so silent, so stanch; so terrible, when he has got his idea, + of his duty clear before him; so absurdly meek, when it is only himself + that is concerned. + </p> + <p> + He is the gentlest, too, and the most lovable of all dogs. He does not + look it. The sweetness of his disposition would not strike the casual + observer at first glance. He resembles the gentleman spoken of in the + oft-quoted stanza: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'E's all right when yer knows 'im. + But yer've got to know 'im fust. +</pre> + <p> + The first time I ever met a bull-dog—to speak to, that is—was + many years ago. We were lodging down in the country, an orphan friend of + mine named George, and myself, and one night, coming home late from some + dissolving views we found the family had gone to bed. They had left a + light in our room, however, and we went in and sat down, and began to take + off our boots. + </p> + <p> + And then, for the first time, we noticed on the hearthrug a bull-dog. A + dog with a more thoughtfully ferocious expression—a dog with, + apparently, a heart more dead to all ennobling and civilizing sentiments—I + have never seen. As George said, he looked more like some heathen idol + than a happy English dog. + </p> + <p> + He appeared to have been waiting for us; and he rose up and greeted us + with a ghastly grin, and got between us and the door. + </p> + <p> + We smiled at him—a sickly, propitiatory smile. We said, "Good dog—poor + fellow!" and we asked him, in tones implying that the question could admit + of no negative, if he was not a "nice old chap." We did not really think + so. We had our own private opinion concerning him, and it was unfavorable. + But we did not express it. We would not have hurt his feelings for the + world. He was a visitor, our guest, so to speak—and, as + well-brought-up young men, we felt that the right thing to do was for us + to prevent his gaining any hint that we were not glad to see him, and to + make him feel as little as possible the awkwardness of his position. + </p> + <p> + I think we succeeded. He was singularly unembarrassed, and far more at his + ease than even we were. He took but little notice of our flattering + remarks, but was much drawn toward George's legs. George used to be, I + remember, rather proud of his legs. I could never see enough in them + myself to excuse George's vanity; indeed, they always struck me as lumpy. + It is only fair to acknowledge, however, that they quite fascinated that + bull-dog. He walked over and criticized them with the air of a + long-baffled connoisseur who had at last found his ideal. At the + termination of his inspection he distinctly smiled. + </p> + <p> + George, who at that time was modest and bashful, blushed and drew them up + on to the chair. On the dog's displaying a desire to follow them, George + moved up on to the table, and squatted there in the middle, nursing his + knees. George's legs being lost to him, the dog appeared inclined to + console himself with mine. I went and sat beside George on the table. + </p> + <p> + Sitting with your feet drawn up in front of you, on a small and rickety + one-legged table, is a most trying exercise, especially if you are not + used to it. George and I both felt our position keenly. We did not like to + call out for help, and bring the family down. We were proud young men, and + we feared lest, to the unsympathetic eye of the comparative stranger, the + spectacle we should present might not prove imposing. + </p> + <p> + We sat on in silence for about half an hour, the dog keeping a reproachful + eye upon us from the nearest chair, and displaying elephantine delight + whenever we made any movement suggestive of climbing down. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the half hour we discussed the advisability of "chancing + it," but decided not to. "We should never," George said, "confound + foolhardiness with courage." + </p> + <p> + "Courage," he continued—George had quite a gift for maxims—"courage + is the wisdom of manhood; foolhardiness, the folly of youth." + </p> + <p> + He said that to get down from the table while that dog remained in the + room, would clearly prove us to be possessed of the latter quality; so we + restrained ourselves, and sat on. + </p> + <p> + We sat on for over an hour, by which time, having both grown careless of + life and indifferent to the voice of Wisdom, we did "chance it;" and + throwing the table-cloth over our would-be murderer, charged for the door + and got out. + </p> + <p> + The next morning we complained to our landlady of her carelessness in + leaving wild beasts about the place, and we gave her a brief if not + exactly truthful, history of the business. + </p> + <p> + Instead of the tender womanly sympathy we had expected, the old lady sat + down in the easy chair and burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + "What! old Boozer," she exclaimed, "you was afraid of old Boozer! Why, + bless you, he wouldn't hurt a worm! He ain't got a tooth in his head, he + ain't; we has to feed him with a spoon; and I'm sure the way the cat + chivies him about must be enough to make his life a burden to him. I + expect he wanted you to nurse him; he's used to being nursed." + </p> + <p> + And that was the brute that had kept us sitting on a table, with our boots + off, for over an hour on a chilly night! + </p> + <p> + Another bull-dog exhibition that occurs to me was one given by my uncle. + He had had a bulldog—a young one—given to him by a friend. It + was a grand dog, so his friend had told him; all it wanted was training—it + had not been properly trained. My uncle did not profess to know much about + the training of bull-dogs; but it seemed a simple enough matter, so he + thanked the man, and took his prize home at the end of a rope. + </p> + <p> + "Have we got to live in the house with <i>this?</i>" asked my aunt, + indignantly, coming in to the room about an hour after the dog's advent, + followed by the quadruped himself, wearing an idiotically self-satisfied + air. + </p> + <p> + "That!" exclaimed my uncle, in astonishment; "why, it's a splendid dog. + His father was honorably mentioned only last year at the Aquarium." + </p> + <p> + "Ah, well, all I can say is, that his son isn't going the way to get + honorably mentioned in this neighborhood," replied my aunt, with + bitterness; "he's just finished killing poor Mrs. McSlanger's cat, if you + want to know what he has been doing. And a pretty row there'll be about + it, too!" + </p> + <p> + "Can't we hush it up?" said my uncle. + </p> + <p> + "Hush it up?" retorted my aunt. "If you'd heard the row, you wouldn't sit + there and talk like a fool. And if you'll take my advice," added my aunt, + "you'll set to work on this 'training,' or whatever it is, that has got to + be done to the dog, before any human life is lost." + </p> + <p> + My uncle was too busy to devote any time to the dog for the next day or + so, and all that could be done was to keep the animal carefully confined + to the house. + </p> + <p> + And a nice time we had with him! It was not that the animal was + bad-hearted. He meant well—he tried to do his duty. What was wrong + with him was that he was too hard-working. He wanted to do too much. He + started with an exaggerated and totally erroneous notion of his duties and + responsibilities. His idea was that he had been brought into the house for + the purpose of preventing any living human soul from coming near it and of + preventing any person who might by chance have managed to slip in from + ever again leaving it. + </p> + <p> + We endeavored to induce him to take a less exalted view of his position, + but in vain. That was the conception he had formed in his own mind + concerning his earthly task, and that conception he insisted on living up + to with, what appeared to us to be, unnecessary conscientiousness. + </p> + <p> + He so effectually frightened away all the trades people, that they at last + refused to enter the gate. All that they would do was to bring their goods + and drop them over the fence into the front garden, from where we had to + go and fetch them as we wanted them. + </p> + <p> + "I wish you'd run into the garden," my aunt would say to me—I was + stopping with them at the time—"and see if you can find any sugar; I + think there's some under the big rose-bush. If not, you'd better go to + Jones' and order some." + </p> + <p> + And on the cook's inquiring what she should get ready for lunch, my aunt + would say: + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'm sure, Jane, I hardly know. What have we? Are there any chops in + the garden, or was it a bit of steak that I noticed on the lawn?" + </p> + <p> + On the second afternoon the plumbers came to do a little job to the + kitchen boiler. The dog, being engaged at the time in the front of the + house, driving away the postman, did not notice their arrival. He was + broken-hearted at finding them there when he got downstairs, and evidently + blamed himself most bitterly. Still, there they were, all owing to his + carelessness, and the only thing to be done now was to see that they did + not escape. + </p> + <p> + There were three plumbers (it always takes three plumbers to do a job; the + first man comes on ahead to tell you that the second man will be there + soon, the second man comes to say that he can't stop, and the third man + follows to ask if the first man has been there); and that faithful, dumb + animal kept them pinned up in the kitchen—fancy wanting to keep + plumbers in a house longer than is absolutely necessary!—for five + hours, until my uncle came home; and the bill ran: "Self and two men + engaged six hours, repairing boiler-tap, 18s.; material, 2d.; total 18s. + 2d." + </p> + <p> + He took a dislike to the cook from the very first. We did not blame him + for this. She was a disagreeable old woman, and we did not think much of + her ourselves. But when it came to keeping her out of the kitchen, so that + she could not do her work, and my aunt and uncle had to cook the dinner + themselves, assisted by the housemaid—a willing-enough girl, but + necessarily inexperienced—we felt that the woman was being subject + to persecution. + </p> + <p> + My uncle, after this, decided that the dog's training must be no longer + neglected. The man next door but one always talked as if he knew a lot + about sporting matters, and to him my uncle went for advice as to how to + set about it. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes," said the man, cheerfully, "very simple thing, training a + bull-dog. Wants patience, that's all." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, that will be all right," said my uncle; "it can't want much more than + living in the same house with him before he's trained does. How do you + start?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'll tell you," said next-door-but-one. "You take him up into a + room where there's not much furniture, and you shut the door and bolt it." + </p> + <p> + "I see," said my uncle. + </p> + <p> + "Then you place him on the floor in the middle of the room, and you go + down on your knees in front of him, and begin to irritate him." + </p> + <p> + "Oh!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes—and you go on irritating him until you have made him quite + savage." + </p> + <p> + "Which, from what I know of the dog, won't take long," observed my uncle + thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + "So much the better. The moment he gets savage he will fly at you." + </p> + <p> + My uncle agreed that the idea seemed plausible. + </p> + <p> + "He will fly at your throat," continued the next-door-but-one man, "and + this is where you will have to be careful. <i>As</i> he springs toward + you, and <i>before</i> he gets hold of you, you must hit him a fair + straight blow on his nose, and knock him down." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I see what you mean." + </p> + <p> + "Quite so—well, the moment you have knocked him down, he will jump + up and go for you again. You must knock him down again; and you must keep + on doing this, until the dog is thoroughly cowed and exhausted. Once he is + thoroughly cowed, the thing's done—dog's as gentle as a lamb after + that." + </p> + <p> + "Oh!" says my uncle, rising from his chair, "you think that a good way, do + you?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly," replied the next-door-but-one man; "it never fails." + </p> + <p> + "Oh! I wasn't doubting it," said my uncle; "only it's just occurred to me + that as you understand the knack of these things, perhaps <i>you'd</i> + like to come in and try <i>your</i> hand on the dog? We can give you a + room quite to yourselves; and I'll undertake that nobody comes near to + interfere with you. And if—if," continued my uncle, with that kindly + thoughtfulness which ever distinguished his treatment of others, "<i>if</i>, + by any chance, you should miss hitting the dog at the proper critical + moment, or, if <i>you</i> should get cowed and exhausted first, instead of + the dog—why, I shall only be too pleased to take the whole burden of + the funeral expenses on my own shoulders; and I hope you know me well + enough to feel sure that the arrangements will be tasteful, and, at the + same time, unostentatious!" + </p> + <p> + And out my uncle walked. + </p> + <p> + We next consulted the butcher, who agreed that the prize-ring method was + absurd, especially when recommended to a short-winded, elderly family man, + and who recommended, instead, plenty of out-door exercise for the dog, + under my uncle's strict supervision and control. + </p> + <p> + "Get a fairly long chain for him," said the butcher, "and take him out for + a good stiff run every evening. Never let him get away from you; make him + mind you, and bring him home always thoroughly exhausted. You stick to + that for a month or two, regular, and you'll have him like a little + child." + </p> + <p> + "Um!—seems to me that I'm going to get more training over his job + than anybody else," muttered my uncle, as he thanked the man and left the + shop; "but I suppose it's got to be done. Wish I'd never had the d—- + dog now!" + </p> + <p> + So, religiously, every evening, my uncle would fasten a long chain to that + poor dog, and drag him away from his happy home with the idea of + exhausting him; and the dog would come back as fresh as paint, my uncle + behind him, panting and clamoring for brandy. + </p> + <p> + My uncle said he should never have dreamed there could have been such + stirring times in this prosaic nineteenth century as he had, training that + dog. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the wild, wild scamperings over the breezy common—the dog trying + to catch a swallow, and my uncle, unable to hold him back, following at + the other end of the chain! + </p> + <p> + Oh, the merry frolics in the fields, when the dog wanted to kill a cow, + and the cow wanted to kill the dog, and they each dodged round my uncle, + trying to do it! + </p> + <p> + And, oh, the pleasant chats with the old ladies when the dog wound the + chain into a knot around their legs, and upset them, and my uncle had to + sit down in the road beside them, and untie them before they could get up + again! + </p> + <p> + But a crisis came at last. It was a Saturday afternoon—uncle being + exercised by dog in usual way—nervous children playing in road, see + dog, scream, and run—playful young dog thinks it a game, jerks chain + out of uncle's grasp, and flies after them—uncle flies after dog, + calling it names—fond parent in front garden, seeing beloved + children chased by savage dog, followed by careless owner, flies after + uncle, calling <i>him</i> names—householders come to doors and cry, + "Shame!"—also throw things at dog—things don't hit dog, hit + uncle—things that don't hit uncle, hit fond parent—through the + village and up the hill, over the bridge and round by the green—grand + run, mile and a half without a break! Children sink exhausted—dog + gambols up among them—children go into fits—fond parent and + uncle come up together, both breathless. + </p> + <p> + "Why don't you call your dog off, you wicked old man?" + </p> + <p> + "Because I can't recollect his name, you old fool, you!" + </p> + <p> + Fond parent accuses uncle of having set dog on—uncle, indignant, + reviles fond parent—exasperated fond parent attacks uncle—uncle + retaliates with umbrella—faithful dog comes to assistance of uncle, + and inflicts great injury on fond parent—arrival of police—dog + attacks police—uncle and fond parent both taken into custody—uncle + fined five pounds and costs for keeping a ferocious dog at large—uncle + fined five pounds and costs for assault on fond parent—uncle fined + five pounds and cost for assault on police! + </p> + <p> + My uncle gave the dog away soon after that. He did not waste him. He gave + him as a wedding-present to a near relation. + </p> + <p> + But the saddest story I ever heard in connection with a bull-dog, was one + told by my aunt herself. + </p> + <p> + Now you can rely upon this story, because it is not one of mine, it is one + of my aunt's, and she would scorn to tell a lie. This is a story you could + tell to the heathen, and feel that you were teaching them the truth and + doing them good. They give this story out at all the Sunday-schools in our + part of the country, and draw moral lessons from it. It is a story that a + little child can believe. + </p> + <p> + It happened in the old crinoline days. My aunt, who was then living in a + country-town, had gone out shopping one morning, and was standing in the + High Street, talking to a lady friend, a Mrs. Gumworthy, the doctor's + wife. She (my aunt) had on a new crinoline that morning, in which, to use + her own expression, she rather fancied herself. It was a tremendously big + one, as stiff as a wire-fence; and it "set" beautifully. + </p> + <p> + They were standing in front of Jenkins', the draper's; and my aunt thinks + that it—the crinoline—must have got caught up in something, + and an opening thus left between it and the ground. However this may be, + certain it is that an absurdly large and powerful bull-dog, who was + fooling round about there at the time, managed, somehow or other, to + squirm in under my aunt's crinoline, and effectually imprison himself + beneath it. + </p> + <p> + Finding himself suddenly in a dark and gloomy chamber, the dog, naturally + enough, got frightened, and made frantic rushes to get out. But whichever + way he charged; there was the crinoline in front of him. As he flew, he, + of course, carried it before him, and with the crinoline, of course, went + my aunt. + </p> + <p> + But nobody knew the explanation. My aunt herself did not know what had + happened. Nobody had seen the dog creep inside the crinoline. All that the + people did see was a staid and eminently respectable middle-aged lady + suddenly, and without any apparent reason, throw her umbrella down in the + road, fly up the High Street at the rate of ten miles an hour, rush across + it at the imminent risk of her life, dart down it again on the other side, + rush sideways, like an excited crab, into a grocer's shop, run three times + round the shop, upsetting the whole stock-in-trade, come out of the shop + backward and knock down a postman, dash into the roadway and spin round + twice, hover for a moment, undecided, on the curb, and then away up the + hill again, as if she had only just started, all the while screaming out + at the top of her voice for somebody to stop her! + </p> + <p> + Of course, everybody thought she was mad. The people flew before her like + chaff before the wind. In less than five seconds the High Street was a + desert. The townsfolk scampered into their shops and houses and barricaded + the doors. Brave men dashed out and caught up little children and bore + them to places of safety amid cheers. Carts and carriages were abandoned, + while the drivers climbed up lamp-posts! + </p> + <p> + What would have happened had the affair gone on much longer—whether + my aunt would have been shot, or the fire-engine brought into requisition + against her—it is impossible, having regard to the terrified state + of the crowd, to say. Fortunately for her, she became exhausted. With one + despairing shriek she gave way, and sat down on the dog; and peace reigned + once again in that sweet rural town. + </p> + <p> + THE END. <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Evergreens, by Jerome K. 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