IO

15

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,

5 In screw, bolt, thorough-brace, — lurking still,
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.

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But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do,

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 down.

"Fur," said the Deacon, "t's mighty plain

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
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;
25 The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees;
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,
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."
"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,
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.
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,
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.

5

ΙΟ

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
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

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, 15 And the whippletree neither less nor more, 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 !

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25

First of November, Fifty-five!

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.

The parson was working his Sunday's text

Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed
At what the - Moses
was coming next.

S. H. R. SEVEN 19

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,
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,
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.

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'."

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15

5

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!

IC

【CHABOD, 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 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 10 idea of his great distance from this faithful companion of 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 15 chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bullfrog from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably and turning suddenly in his bed.

20

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