The original Mr. McGuffey was very
strong for illustrations. He stuck them in everywhere in his
readers, whether they matched the themes or not. Being as fond
of pictures as he undoubtedly was, it seems almost a pity he did
not marry the tattooed lady in a circus and then when he got
tired of studying her pictorially on one side he could ask her
to turn around and let him see what she had to say on the other
side. Perhaps he did. I never gleaned much regarding the family
history of the McGuffeys.
Be that as it may, the wardrobe is entirely unsuited for the rigors
of the climate in Switzerland in winter time. Symptomatically it
marks the wearer as a person who is mentally lacking. He needs a
keeper almost as badly as he needs some heavy underwear. But this
isn't the worst of it. Take the banner. It bears the single word
"Excelsior." The youth is going through a strange town late in
the evening in his nightie, and it winter time, carrying a banner
advertising a shredded wood-fiber commodity which won't be invented
until a hundred and fifty years after he is dead!
Can you beat it? You can't even tie it.
Let us look further into the matter:
His brow was sad; his eyes beneath
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!
Get it, don't you? Even his features fail to jibe.
Pages:
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41