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Pāli
For New Learners

Book I
How to say it

J. R. Bhaddacak

Version 2.0
Copyright © 2023 J. R. Bhaddacak

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons

Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/

Release History
Version Built on Description
2.0 16 Nov 2022 Reformatted, updated, Appendix N removed
1.0 18 Nov 2021 Minor changes and corrections
0.9 2 Apr 2021 First release, for proofreading
Preface
I write this book with a hope that it can be an easy starter to
Pāli studies which I wish it had been my first book on Pāli lan-
guage. The main theme of this book comes from a simple ques-
tion: “What is the quickest way to learn a language?” It seems
to me that the best answer is “by using it in conversation.” This
is true for many living languages in the world, but not quite so
in dead languages like Pāli.
Whether Pāli is a dead language can be a point of controversy,
because in some situations the language is really used in conver-
sation. When no other common language available, Theravada
monks from different countries converse in Pāli. This is true only
for those who are well-versed in the language. That is to say,
traditionally monks learn Pāli mainly for translating scriptures,
not for conversation. Those who are able to speak Pāli are more
or less near the level of Pāli expert. They have to master the
grammar and vocabulary first by many years of study.
The approach of this book is the reverse of that. We will start
learning the language by simple conversation. The aim is not to
make Pāli a daily language (it is pointless to do that), but to
make sense of the language in a familiar way. In the traditional
way of learning, students have to remember many grammatical
rules before they translate a portion of text. That is a big waste
of time. Many rules have exceptions, some rules occur seldom
in the text, and some rules have conflicting stances according to
traditional grammarians. Why do new learners have to remember
all of those? How about if we focus on crucial grammatical points
first by using them in a simple context? That is the main idea of
my approach.
Surprisingly, conversational approach to Pāli is not really pop-
ular. You can find rare books on the topic. The noted one is
Aids to Pali Conversation and Translation by A. P. Buddhadatta
Mahāthera.1 The book looks much like a traveling guide with
1 Buddhadatta, 1951?

iii
typical situations and few grammatical guideline. That means it
is not suitable for beginners to start learning the language, but
rather it is a supplement for those who are quite familiar with
the language to some extent. Nevertheless, this book inspires me
and helps me form some ideas of the present book. My aim is
different, not to make a better guidebook, but to use conversation
as the beginning point leading to grammatical explanation. By
this way of learning, the language makes sense at the start, unlike
in the traditional way that new learners have to be bombarded
with rules long before they can grasp the ideas. The drawback of
conversational approach is that we cannot touch upon every bit
of rules. We can just talk about some big rules and try to use
them. That is the digestible way of learning a new language. It
also makes more fun.

The previous part as you have read so far was written before
the first chapter is formulated. The following part is written after
all chapters are done one year later.
At first, I thought the book would not grow this big. My pri-
mary intention is fulfilled perfectly. The book finally can be used
as a Pāli primer (like one I dreamed of). Furthermore, with my
decision to incorporate traditional accounts into the book, it now
becomes a reference manual at the same time.2 That is a kind
of book I also sought after when I investigated into the language,
but very few was accessible. Now my dream is bundled into your
hand.
Put it another way, this book serves two purposes. First, as a
primer, it uses conversational approach to introduce new learn-
ers to Pāli in a less intimidating way. You can find this part in
the lessons. Second, as a reference, it contains most of materials
used by the tradition in learning process. You can find this part
mostly in the appendices. That means the book is self-contained.
You just need only one book to learn the language at starter
level. In addition, with a companion program, Pāli Platform,
you have most of Pāli literature in hand together with a powerful

2 The main factor that enables me to do this is Dr. Supaphan Na

Bangchang’s book on traditional Pāli grammar (Na Bangchang 1995). With-

out this work I cannot quickly capture the essence of Pāli grammar of three
main schools. Other notable Thai translations I use are Saddanīti by Phra
Maha Nimit Dhammasāro and Chamroon Thammada, Niruttidīpanī by Som-
pob Sa-nguanpanit, and so many more that I cannot list them here.

iv
 Preface

search function and useful tools. That is to say, one can be a

Pāli researcher or scholar with just a couple of things. Knowl-
edgeable teachers can quicken your learning process, but they are
not really necessary because you have all of digestible materials
here. The only thing you need to learn the language successfully
is perseverance, maybe plus some motivation.
My target readers, apart from those who want to study the
language academically, are ones adherent to the tradition who
want to learn the language in a more effective and healthy way.
Let me make clear why I stress on healthy way of learning. To
the tradition, Pāli is a sacred language because it preserves what
the Buddha taught. No one disputes on that. And any sacred
language is supposed to be difficult. This means few experts
can understand it properly. A consequence of this is those few
specialists determine what the rest should believe and practice.
From my background of religious studies, one major factor that
sets the direction of religious tenets is politics. This means many
things Buddhists believe are just for political purposes.3 Healthy
learning thus means you can learn to read the source by yourselves
and decide that whether it is worth believing or observing or not.
That is the only way a religion can serve the public for their own
benefits, not just for benefits of an executive few.4
I have a short treatment on the point that Buddhism, or any
religion in this matter, always has political dimension. If I ask
“What is the main purpose of Buddhism?,” everyone should an-
swer that it is about soteriology or salvation or liberation. A
next question is “How much do you need to know for liberation?”
A straight answer of this is “Not much.” And you even do not
need to know Pāli or any sacred scripture thoroughly. You just
need to know how to observe yourselves properly. That is all

3 This sounds quite modern to see that religion and other domains of life

are separate areas. In fact, there is no such separation in the ancient mind.
See it another way, religion is the only effective tool in the past to keep the
society in order. But now the situation is different because religion begins to
lose its power, and the close link between religion and politics is now visible
resulting in attempts to separate these two areas. Yet, in the modern world
many religions are still powerful in keeping the social order.
4 It is idealistic, in my view, to establish a purely democratic society like

this. Once religion becomes a cultural component of the society, it is really

hard to challenged, even if its original tenets are inconsistent, distorted, or
even outright wrong. Even though it is hard to do, we still have to acknowl-
edge it as such and try our best.

v
for practical purpose. Then the main reason why we have many
things to learn about the religion and to entrench them in our
belief is all about politics, both in the religion’s own sphere and
governmental sphere.5
I have to make myself clear at the beginning why I am so critical
to our object of learning, as you shall see throughout our course.
My point is that any good knowledge should have liberating effect.
When we really know something by ourselves, not just by being
told, it can change us in a subtle way. If you have enough integrity,
the change will be in a good way and liberating. That is the
practical6 purpose of this book, apart from the scholarly one.
Here is my future plan. As the subtitle of the book implies,
there will be a sequel of this. The next volume will be about
how to read texts. I will bring various theories into play with
Pāli translation, such as semiotics, hermeneutics, literary theo-
ries, translation theories, and so on. I will not just write a manual
of Pāli translation, but I will go deeper as far as modern knowl-
edge can guide us. And, if possible, the third book will be about
Pāli composition and prosody. That will be less theoretical and
focus more on practical technique. That last one is not quite ap-
pealing to me to write, but it can make the series complete. I
assert no strong commitment of that, but for the second one I
have already prepared some materials.
You might be curious why I am motivated to do difficult things,
even though they bring me no financial gain whatsoever. That is
my healthy way of living. It is simple: you set goals, and finish
them one by one. If you have difficult goals, you just have a few
big things to do in your life. Take your time and enjoy your life.
5 Talking about this issue can be a book-length discussion. It might be

more accurate to say that all religions are economics-based. That sounds
rather Marxist, but I think a purely soteriological religion is really hard to
find on earth. I do not mean religious people seek after wealth (except We-
ber’s Protestantism, perhaps), but people must have things to eat first. That
makes social structure and political system indispensable. Then the idea of
salvation comes along. However, religion makes us believe that soteriological
goal in the cosmic order exists from the beginning. Then politics and social
order accommodate people to that goal. Some readers might think we have
many things to learn because they are an intellectual enterprise of human be-
ings. That is true, but scholastic endeavor has little to do with real salvation.
It just maintains the tradition, hence the economic and politic bases.
6 You may expect ‘spiritual’ for this word. I do not like the term because it

sounds spooky. I have a down-to-earth and realistic view on religious journey.

For me, a spiritually awakening life is just a healthy life in its entirety.

vi
 Preface

When finished, they will be great. The outcome does not matter
much really. You just have an opportunity to focus on one thing
at a time. I am lucky to have not many desires. Hence, I have
little distraction. People give me food, and that is enough for me
to live happily without worrying about making a living.

How to use the book

The book is roughly divided into two parts: lessons and appen-
dices. For the lesson part, it is meant to be learned sequentially.
Chapter 1 is about introduction to Pāli language. New learners
may find this too difficult, or too critical. You can skip this one if
you like. Chapter 2–35 are the primer part. You are supposed to
go through these one by one. From Chapter 3 onwards, there is
an exercise at the end of each chapter. You are encouraged to ex-
ercise your knowledge before you go to its answer keys (Appendix
M).
Chapter 36–38 are theoretical summaries, mostly about the
verb system and cases. They are essential but too difficult to
learn at the beginning. I place them at the end after you know
how to use the language. In the traditional way, you have to learn
all these before you start to read texts. You can feel how tough
traditional students are.
Chapter 39 is all about conversation. All knowledge you learn
will be applied here. This chapter is not necessary to read as the
last lesson. You can read this if you are curious how to put things
into practice. There are cross references to related lessons in this
chapter. But if you do not hurry, make it the last one is better,
like you eat a pudding at the end of the main course.
The other half of the book is additional materials. You can
read them in any order. They are supposed to be read after you
are familiar with the language to some degree, and you want to be
equipped with additional information unprovided in the lessons.
All these materials are not necessary to know at the start. If
you can read all of them, however, you will know the heart of
the traditional approach, and you will know where to find further
materials.
My writing style goes between formal and casual extreme. If
you have heavily academic mind, please tolerate my playful mo-
ments. English is not my native tongue, so you have to tolerate

vii
this too. My main concern is how to make the book reader-
friendly and enjoyable to write.
The companion website of this project by now is paliplatform.
blogspot.com. Please check there for a new revision. The life
cycle of electronic publishing is short, so a new edition can come
out quickly. You can contact the author personally by emailing
to jakratep at gmail dot com.7

Acknowledgment
Beside people who support me with requisites, I have no one
to thank, because I do all the things myself, from thinking to
typesetting. Very few know what I do during the days. However,
the book is far from perfect: translations need to be improved,
errors needs to be fixed, typos need to be detected and corrected,
missing materials need to be added, ideas have to be polished, etc.
You all can help me by taking notes when you read the book, and
send me back. You will be a part of this intellectual heritage.

Notes on 2.0 edition

After I have finished Pāli Platform 2 and written its manual, I
feel I should do something with this book too. First, I remove the
appendix on Pāli Platform because we already have the full
user’s manual now. And second, I update all numbers, mostly
term frequencies, taken from the first version of the program to
the newer ones.
In Pāli Platform 2, I utilize a different approach to tokenize
the text, so the term frequencies change as a result. The change
is not drastic, except in the case of ti (an elided form of iti).
Many instances that have ti (or nti) annexed, they are now split,
if detectable. So, you see that the frequency of ti doubles in
Chapter 17.
One big change, due to the change of my working environment,
is the overall format of the book. When I use a new version of
TEX Live, the fonts look smaller. So, in this release the total
number of pages shrinks to under 800 (from more than 1,000).
7 FYI: The author does not use any kind of social media, and he is not

online all the time. Normally, he connects to the Internet once a week, some-
times once in two weeks or longer than that if he is very busy on something.
That is also a healthy way of living.

viii
 Preface

Another minor matter is I decide to remove the graphic cover

from the book, and change the cover to a simple text-based de-
sign. The graphic cover makes the file unnecessarily bigger, and
it looks too commercial to me.
Finally, I apply a Creative Commons public license to the doc-
ument. It is suitable to an electronic publication like this. My
side intention of this is to demonstrate how knowledge is shared
in the modern environment. With the current technology, if you
have an effort to learn new things, you can do by yourself what
most people deem impossible.
I also fix some errors that I come across. I have not yet had
plenty of time and energy to reread the whole thing and overhaul
the editing. Just formatting the book this time takes days. So, if
you want a perfect book, please help me spot defects.

ix
Contents
Preface iii

Contents xi

List of Tables xvii

Abbreviations xxi

1 Critical Introduction to Pāli 1

Did the Buddha speak Pāli? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
How reliable is the Pāli canon? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
Why do we study Pāli then? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10

2 Nuts and Bolts 13

Introduction to Pāli Letters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

3 (There is) a book 18

Declension of Nominative Case . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

4 (There is) a big book 26

Introduction to Adjective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26

5 This (is) a book 31

Demonstrative Pronouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

6 It (is) a book 34
Personal Pronouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34

7 There is a book 39
Verb to Be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

8 I have a book 43
Declension of Genitive Case . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

9 My daughter is wise 48
Irregular Nouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

xi
Contents

10 I go to school 58
Conjugation of Present Tense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58
Declension of Accusative Case . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

11 I go to school from home 63

Declension of Ablative Case . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63

12 I go to school by bus 67
Declension of Instrumental Case . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67

13 I go to school for knowledge 71

Declension of Dative Case . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71

14 I go to school in town 76
Declension of Locative Case . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76

15 Boy, who are you? 80

Declension of Vocative Case . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80
Interrogative Pronoun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82

16 I go where you go 90
Correlative Sentences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90

17 I and you do not go to school 94

Introduction to Indeclinables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94

18 You are the best 103

Adjective Comparison . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103

19 I went to school 109

Introduction to Past Tense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

20 I will go to school 117

Future Tense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117

21 Go to school, boys 120

Imperative Mood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120

22 You should go to school 126

Optative Mood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126

23 If you go to school, you will be wise 132

Conditional Mood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136

xii
 Contents

24 All I have are four books 139

Miscellaneous Pronouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139

25 There are 7.8 billion people 151

Introduction to Numerals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
Cardinal Numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155
Ordinal Numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172

26 We always walk from home to school here 176

Suffixed Indeclinables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176

27 Are you going home? 183

More about Questioning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183

28 I read a book slowly 192

Introduction to Adverb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192
Repetition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194

29 Even though this book is difficult 199

Concessive Clauses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199

30 Going to town, I buy you a book 203

Introduction to Present Participles . . . . . . . . . . . . 203

31 Having gone to town, I bought you a book 210

Introduction to Past Participles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210
Introduction to Absolutives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 214

32 A book is read by me 217

Introduction to Passive Voice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217
Using Kita in Passive Voice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225

33 I have you give me a book 234

Introduction to Causatives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234
Using Kita in Causatives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239

34 Now, I can speak Pāli 243

Introduction to Infinitives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243

35 I say “Pāli is not so difficult” 252

Direct and Indirect Speech . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252
Some Minor Matters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259

xiii
Contents

36 Verb Classes Summarized 264

Present Tense (Vattamānā) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268
Imperative Mood (Pañcamī ) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270
Optative Mood (Sattamī ) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270
Perfect Tense (Parokkhā) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272
Imperfect Tense (Hiyyattanī ) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274
Aorist Tense (Ajjatanī ) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275
Future Tense (Bhavissanti) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277
Conditional Mood (Kālātipatti) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278

37 Principle of Verb Formation 280

Active Verb Forms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282
Causative Verb Forms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 292
Passive Verb Forms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 294
Reduplication . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296

38 Cases Summarized 299

Introduction to Kāraka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299
Kattukāraka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301
Kammakāraka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303
Karaṇakāraka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304
Sampadānakāraka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304
Apadānakāraka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309
Okāsakāraka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317
Nominal Vibhatti Usage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 319
The First Vibhatti (Nom. & Voc.) . . . . . . . . . . 319
The Second Vibhatti (Acc.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 320
The Third Vibhatti (Ins.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325
The Fourth Vibhatti (Dat.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329
The Fifth Vibhatti (Abl.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 330
The Sixth Vibhatti (Gen.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 332
The Seventh Vibhatti (Loc.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337
Deviations (Vipallāsa) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 340

39 Conversations 343
First Meeting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 343
With a Schoolboy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 351
Between Two Farmers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 353
Between Two Merchants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 356
With a Person from Burma . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 359
Does your dog bite? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 363

xiv
 Contents

Pets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 364
In the Woods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 365
Notes on Neologism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 366

A Introduction to Traditional Grammar Books 368

B Declensional paradigms 382

B.1 Regular Masculine Nouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 384
B.2 Regular Feminine Nouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 386
B.3 Regular Neuter Nouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 387
B.4 Irregular Nouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 388
B.5 Pronouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 401

C Verbal conjugations 411

C.1 Verbal Vibhatti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 411
C.2 Operation of Vibhatti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 413
C.3 Irregular Verb Forms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 418

D Sandhi (Word Joining) 432

E Upasagga (Prefixes) 442

F Nipāta (Particles) 465

G Samāsa (Compounds) 528

H Kita (Primary Derivation) 548

I Taddhita (Secondary Derivation) 610

J List of Paccayas 640

K List of Roots 663

L Vocabulary 704
L.1 Nouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 704
L.2 Adjectives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 724
L.3 Verbs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 728

M Answer Keys 735

About the Author 759

xv
Contents

Colophon 760

xvi
List of Tables
2.1 Pronunciation of Pāli vowels . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
2.2 Grouping of Pāli consonants . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
2.3 Pronunciation of Pāli consonants . . . . . . . . . . 16
2.4 Vowel gradation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

3.1 Endings of words in stem form of each gender . . . 20

3.2 Nominative case endings of regular nouns . . . . . 22

4.1 Adjective selection guide . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27

5.1 Nominative case of demonstrative pronouns . . . . 31

6.1 Nominative case of personal pronouns . . . . . . . 35

7.1 Present tense conjugations of verbs ‘to be’ . . . . . 40

8.1 Genitive case endings of regular nouns . . . . . . . 44

8.2 Genitive case of pronouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

9.1 Irregular nouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

10.1 Endings of present tense conjugation . . . . . . . . 58

10.2 Accusative case endings of regular nouns . . . . . . 60
10.3 Accusative case of pronouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60

11.1 Ablative case endings of regular nouns . . . . . . . 64

11.2 Ablative case of pronouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
11.3 Verbs taking ablatives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66

12.1 Instrumental case endings of regular nouns . . . . 67

12.2 Instrumental case of pronouns . . . . . . . . . . . . 68
12.3 Particles often used with ins. . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

13.1 Dative case endings of regular nouns . . . . . . . . 72

13.2 Dative case of pronouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73

xvii
List of Tables

14.1 Locative case endings of regular nouns . . . . . . . 76

14.2 Locative case of pronouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77

15.1 Vocative case endings of regular nouns . . . . . . . 81

15.2 Vocative particles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81
15.3 Some other vocative words . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82
15.4 Declension of interrogative pronoun . . . . . . . . . 83

17.1 Top-five of the most frequent Pāli terms . . . . . . 95

18.1 Irregular comparative forms . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105

19.1 Aorist conjugation of gacchati . . . . . . . . . . . . 112

19.2 List of aor. of gacchati . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115
19.3 Aorist conjugation of atthi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116

20.1 Endings of future tense conjugation . . . . . . . . . 117

20.2 Some irregular future verb forms . . . . . . . . . . 118

21.1 Endings of imperative conjugation . . . . . . . . . 120

21.2 Imperative conjugation of atthi . . . . . . . . . . . 121

22.1 Endings of optative conjugation . . . . . . . . . . . 126

22.2 Optative conjugation of atthi . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
22.3 Alternative optative conjugation of karoti . . . . . 127

23.1 Structure of English conditional sentences . . . . . 132

23.2 Some conditional particles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133
23.3 Endings of conditional mood conjugation . . . . . 136
23.4 Conditional mood conjugation of gacchati . . . . . 136

24.1 Miscellaneous pronouns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139

25.1 Pāli numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151

25.2 Declension of number 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
25.3 Declension of number 20 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
25.4 Declension of number 100 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158
25.5 Units of length . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160
25.6 Numbers from 101–999 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164
25.7 Declension of katipaya . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
25.8 Declension of kati . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
25.9 Terms with ttaka/ttika . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170

xviii
 List of Tables

25.10Pāli ordinal numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172

25.11The use of aḍḍha . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174

26.1 Some particles suffixed with to . . . . . . . . . . . 176

26.2 Particles suffixed with tra, etc. . . . . . . . . . . . 179
26.3 Particles suffixed with dā, etc. . . . . . . . . . . . . 180

27.1 Interrogative particles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184

27.2 Answering particles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184

36.1 Vattamānāvibhatti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265

36.2 Present forms of ‘to go’ (gamu) . . . . . . . . . . . 268
36.3 Imperative forms of ‘to go’ (gamu) . . . . . . . . . 270
36.4 Optative forms of ‘to go’ (gamu) . . . . . . . . . . 271
36.5 Time and aspect in English . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273
36.6 Tenses in Greek and Latin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273
36.7 Perfect forms of ‘to go’ (gamu) . . . . . . . . . . . 274
36.8 Imperfect forms of ‘to go’ (gamu) . . . . . . . . . . 275
36.9 Imperfect forms of ‘to go’ (alternative) . . . . . . . 275
36.10Aorist forms of ‘to go’ (gamu) . . . . . . . . . . . . 276
36.11Aorist forms of ‘to go’ (alternative) . . . . . . . . . 276
36.12Future forms of ‘to go’ (gamu) . . . . . . . . . . . 278
36.13Future forms of ‘to go’ (alternative) . . . . . . . . 278
36.14Conditional forms of ‘to go’ (gamu) . . . . . . . . . 279
36.15Conditional forms of ‘to go’ (alternative) . . . . . . 279

37.1 Root group according to Kacc/Sadd . . . . . . . . 283

37.2 Root group according to Mogg . . . . . . . . . . . 284

A.1 Grammatical terms for cases . . . . . . . . . . . . 370

A.2 Contents of Kaccāyana . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 372
A.3 Contents of Moggallāna . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 373
A.4 Contents of Saddanīti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 374
A.5 Structure of a grammatical sutta . . . . . . . . . . 378

B.1 Nominal vibhatti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 383

G.1 Types of Pāli compounds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 530

J.1 All Pāli paccayas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 640

J.2 Irregular products of paccayas . . . . . . . . . . . . 655

xix
List of Tables

K.1 Roots in Dhātumālā . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 664

xx
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
At last I was out of the mill, out in the fresh air all day! I stretched my
arms, ran, leaped, and worked with great delight. I felt better,
stronger, more inspired than ever to get ahead. But when I went
home, after the day’s work, I was so sleepy through exposure that I
could no longer study. “Never mind,” I thought; “if I only get a strong
body out of it, it will be all right.”
So I milked cows, delivered milk to a village three miles distant, and
worked about the place, all with hearty good will. Every day I would
look in a glass to see if my cheeks were puffing out or getting ruddy.
On Sunday I attended the village church and worshiped near the
superintendent of the mill. I shared the farmer’s pew, and though the
beat of air and sun on my eyes made me very sleepy when in a
room, and though the minister must have wondered why I winked so
laboriously during the service, as I tried to keep awake, I always
brought to mind the pleasant places into which I had been led, and
joined with the minister in a sincere prayer to the God who was
leading me.
But one night I went home, and, as I neared the house, I heard
hysterical screams and ran as fast as I could, knowing full well what I
should see. My aunt was squirming on the floor, her hair undone,
and her hat entangled in it. She had on her best dress. Her face was
convulsive with hate, with intense insanity. She was shrieking: “Oh,
he’s killing me, killing me! Help! Murder!” I ran to her, caught the
sickening odor of whisky from her lips and on examination found that
there was a gash on her cheek. Then I stood up and looked around.
Uncle, breathing heavily, sat at the other end of the table, before an
untasted supper. His face was very stern and troubled.
“What have you done?” I shouted. “You’ve been hitting her, you
coward!”
“I had to—to protect myself,” he muttered. Then he showed me his
face. The blood was dropping down when he took his handkerchief
from it, and there was a gash in his temple.
“She threw a saucer square at me,” he explained, in a low voice.
“She had a table knife, and she’s stronger than I am, so I just had to
smash her with that,” and he pointed to a stick of wood. “It saved her
from murder, Al. I’m going away. It will maybe bring her round. If I
stayed, she’d raise all sorts of rows and maybe get me to drinking
again. She’s been out to that rum shop. I found her, when I got
home, dressed as she is, trying to warm a can of soup in the frying-
pan. She tried to say she hadn’t been drinking, and then we had the
row, lad. Get her to bed, if you can. Get her out of the way, because
when she sees me she’s sure to begin it all over. I can’t stop here,
can I?”
“No, get away,” I said; “we’ve had rows enough. Send us some,
money when you get work, and it’ll be all right. Come and see us, if
you get a good place. We might move away from here.”
He packed his bundle, and went to the city on the next trolley-car,
and left me alone to fight the matter through. I was earning four and
a half dollars a week, and knew that we would have to fight hard if
uncle did not send us any money. After I had placed my aunt in bed
and left her to manage as best she could, knowing that her sobs
would die down and a deep sleep ensue, I went out on the front step
and sat down to think matters over.
“Now everybody in the village, the designer, and all your fine friends
will know that your aunt drinks,” I thought. “What’s the use trying to
be somebody and have these miserable things in the way!” How
were we to get through the winter? It seemed inevitable that I should
have to go back to the mill. The mill was bound to get me, in the long
run. It was only playing with me in letting me out in the sun, the fresh
air, and the fields for a while. The mill owned me. I would have to go
back!
We tried to live through the winter, without getting word from my
uncle, on the money I earned. Occasionally aunt would take some
liquor, but she seemed to realize at last that she must not indulge
overmuch. One day, growing desperate, I said to her, “If I catch you
drinking on my money, now, I’ll leave home, you see! I’ll earn money
to buy food, but I won’t earn it for no saloon-keeper, mark my words!”
I was only then beginning to see the light in which my own, personal
rights to freedom stood. My aunt scolded me for awhile at such
unheard of rebellion and such masterly impudence, but she took
notice of my earnestness and knew that I would keep my word.
Finally the struggle became too much for us. We saw that we could
not starve longer on the little wage I was earning, so we made plans
to return to the city where the mills were plenty and where I might
earn more money. My aunt was only too eager to get away from a
place where it was impossible to hide one’s actions.
A card came from my uncle announcing that he had returned to New
Bedford already, and asking us to come and join him.
“Yes,” smiled my aunt, “I’ll bet he’s thinking of his stomach. He finds,
when he’s away, that it isn’t every lodging-house keeper that can
cook potato pies and things as tasty as his own wife. That’s what
he’s homesick for, I’ll bet. Write him that we’ll be on hand. He means
all right, but I’ll guarantee he’s half starved.”
I eagerly accepted the privilege of running ahead to New Bedford to
rent a tenement. I said to myself, “Yes, and I’ll get one so far away
from saloons that the temptation will not be under their noses,
anyway!”
That was almost an impossible thing. The rents were excessively
high in such paradises. I had to compromise by renting a downstairs
house on what seemed to be a respectable street. The nearest
saloon was five blocks away.
Chapter XVIII. A Venture
into Art
 Chapter XVIII. A Venture
into Art
ONCE more we took up life in New Bedford, with the thunder of
many mills in our ears, and the short year’s sojourn in the
Connecticut village so dim a memory that it was almost out of mind
immediately under the press of sterner, more disquieting things.
All the foulness of life seemed to be raked up at my feet since I had
been in finer, sweeter air. I went back for a few nights to the Point
Road Gang. It was composed of the same fellows save that a few of
them had gone away from home, one to prison for larceny, another
to an insane asylum through excessive cigarette indulgence, and
those who were left had obtained some very wise notions from life.
Jakey was one of those who had gone away from home. One night
he joined his old comrades. “Now, fellows,” he said, with somewhat
of a swagger, “what’s the matter with being sports, eh?” “We are
sporty,” announced Bunny.
“Ah, git off the earth, you!” derided Jakey. “Where’s the booze?”
“Uh, we ain’t skeered of that!” retorted Bunny, “are we, fellows?”
To show that they were not afraid of a drink, some of the gang fished
up some pennies from their pockets and made a pot of fifteen cents.
“Get a can, somebody,” announced Jakey. “I’ll get the growler for
you, with foam on it too.”
A large pail was procured, and Jakey carried it into one of the
saloons. We waited for his return, a huddled group standing in a
vacant lot where we should not be seen. This was to be the gang’s
first official venture into inebriety. When Jakey returned with the can,
it was passed around. We stood in a circle, the better to watch one
another. There were ten in the circle. Only three of us did not take a
drink, for which we were not only duly laughed at, but Jakey heaped
all manner of filthy abuse on our heads. But we did not drink.
The Gang Began to Hold “Surprise Parties” for The Girls
in the Mill
The gang, under the worldly-wise Jakey’s direction, began, also, to
hold “surprise parties” for the girls in the mill. These parties were
arranged for Saturday nights. They were extremely shady functions,
being mainly an excuse for beer-drinking, kitchen dancing, and
general wild sport. The whole affair was based on a birthday, a
wedding, an engagement, or a christening. About twenty-five picked
couples were usually invited.
After the presentation speech, dancing took place on the boards of
the cellar. Then refreshments were passed, and the boys and girls
freely indulged. By midnight the party usually attained the
proportions of a revel, threaded with obscenity, vulgarity, fights, and
wild singing.
The gang had drawn away from the things I cared for. I had now to
live my own life, get my own amusements, and make new
companionships.
I was working in the mule-room again and this time I was advanced
to the post of “doffer.” I had to strip the spindles of the cops of yarn
and put new tubes on them for another set of cops. But this work
involved the carrying of boxes of yarn on my shoulders, the lifting of
a heavy truck, and often unusual speed to keep the mules in my
section running. The farm work did not appear to have strengthened
me very decidedly. I had to stagger under my loads the same as
ever. I wondered how long I should last at that sort of work, for if I
could not do that work the overseer would never promote me to a
spinner, where I could earn a skilled worker’s wage. I was now near
my nineteenth birthday, and I had to be thinking about my future. I
wanted to do a man’s work now, in a man’s way, for a man’s wage. I
learned with alarm, too, that I was getting past the age when young
men enter college, and there I was, without even a common school
education! Once more the gloom of the mill settled down on me. The
old despair gripped me.
I did find companionship in my ambitions, now that I had left the
gang. Pat Carroll, an Irishman, wanted to go to college also. He was
far past me in the amount of schooling he had enjoyed, for by patient
application to night-school in the winter, he had entered upon High
School studies. There was Harry Lea, an Englishman, who was even
further advanced than was Pat Carroll. Harry liked big words, and
had tongue-tiring sentences of them, which created rare fun
whenever he cared to sputter them for us. Harry had a very original
mind, did not care much for society, and lived quite a thoughtful life.
These two aided me with knotty problems in arithmetic and grammar.
But it was not often that I had time to spend with them now that my
work was more strenuous and wearing than before.
Harry was attending a private evening school and invited me to the
annual graduation. I asked him if there would be any “style” to it,
thereby meaning fancy dress and well-educated, society people.
“Oh,” said Harry, “there will be men in evening dress, swallow tails,
you know, and some women who talk nice. If they talk to you, just
talk up the weather. Society people are always doing that!”
The graduation was held in one of the lecture halls of the Y. M. C. A.
I sat in my place, watching with rapt eyes the speakers, the fluent
speakers who had such an education! The principal was a college
man. Him I watched with veritable worship. He had reached the goal
I craved so eagerly, so vainly to reach. I wondered at the time if he
felt bigger than other people because he had a college degree!
When the program neared its end, a young man was announced to
read an essay, the principal stating that the young man had been
studying English but five months, and saying it so emphatically that I
thought the reader must be a green Swede, so I marvelled greatly
when the fluent diction sounded on my ears, for I did not hear a
single sound with a Swedish accent to it!
One Monday morning there was a notice posted in the mill to the
effect that an evening school of design would be opened in the
Textile School. I inquired about it, and found that I could learn all
sorts of artistic designing—wall-paper, book, and cloth, free of tuition.
“Here’s my chance,” I thought. “I can learn a trade that will pay well,
get me out of the mill, and not be too much of a tax on what little
strength the mill has left me.” So I went joyously “up city,” and
entered the splendid building used as a Textile College. I enrolled at
the office and was assigned to a classroom.
I went to my task joyfully with dreams of future success, for I liked
drawing. Had I not traced newspaper pictures ever since I was a
small boy? Were not the white-painted walls of the mills I had
worked in decorated with cow-boys, rustic pictures, and Indian’s
heads, drawn by my pencil?
Three nights a week I walked back and forth to the Textile School,
tired, but ambitious to make the most of my great opportunity. Week
by week I went through various lessons until I began to design wall-
papers with water-color and to make book-cover designs on which I
prided myself, and on which my teacher complimented me.
Then my eyes began to weaken under the glare of the lights, and the
long strain they had been under during the day, through staring at
cotton threads and the fatigue of long hours under the mill lights. My
conventionalized leaves and flowers, my water-lily book designs, my
tracings for Scotch plaids—all grew hazy, jumpy, distorted, and my
brush fell from a weary clutch. In dismal submission I had to give up
that ambition. The mill was bound to have me. What was the use of
fighting against it?
But now that the direction had been indicated by the Textile School, I
thought that I might learn to draw in my spare time, and outside
regular classrooms, for just then a Correspondence School agent
came to me and offered me instruction in that line at a very
reasonable rate. I enrolled myself, and thought that with the choice
of my hours of study I could readily learn the art of designing. But a
few evenings at elementary scribbling and a few dollars for advance
lessons took away my courage. The whole thing seemed a blind
leading. I cut off the lessons and gave up in utter despair.
Then, one night, as I was on my way from work, I was met near our
house by a young lad who ran up to me, stopped abruptly, almost
poked his finger in my eye as he called, derisively: “Aw, yer aunt’s
been arrested fer being drunk! She was lugged off in a hurry-up! Aw,
yer aunt’s got jugged! Shame on yer! shame on yer!”
I ran home at that, incredulous, but found the house deserted. Then I
knew that it was true. I lay on the bed and cried my eyes sore in
great misery, with the bottom gone out of the world.
My uncle had been called to investigate the matter. He came home
and said that nothing could be done until morning, so we sat up to
the table and made out as best we could with a supper.
The next morning I went to uncle’s overseer with a note to the effect
that he would be unable to be at work that morning. The mill-boys,
who had passed the news around, met me and in indelicate haste
referred to my misfortune, saying, “Goin’ to the trial, Priddy,” and,
“What did yer have to eat last night, Priddy—tripe on a skewer?” I
worked apart that day, as if interdicted from decent society. My aunt’s
shame was mine, perhaps in a greater measure.
On my return home that night I found my foster parents awaiting me
with smiles on their faces.
“Al,” said my aunt, in tears, “I want you to forgive me. I’ve turned
over a new leaf. Both of us have. Uncle and I have been to the city
mission and have taken the pledge. The judge wasn’t hard on me.
He sent us there. We’ve put you to shame often enough and are
sorry for it. You’re to have a better home, and we’ll get along
famously after this. Maybe it’s all been for the best, lad; don’t cry.”
And from the new, inspiring light in her eyes I could tell that she
meant every word, and I thanked God in my heart for the experience
that had made such words possible—strange words on my aunt’s
lips.
Chapter XIX. A Reduction in
Wages, Cart-tail Oratory, a
Big Strike, and the Joys
and Sufferings thereof
 Chapter XIX. A Reduction in
Wages, Cart-tail Oratory, a
big Strike, and the Joys
and Sufferings thereof
IN January of that year forty thousand mill operatives went on strike.
I belonged to the union and had a voice in the preparations for the
strike. The manufacturers wanted to reduce our wages ten per cent.
Word was passed around the mule-room that there was to be a
stubborn fight, and that every union member ought to be on hand at
the next regular meeting, when a vote was to be taken which would
be our answer to the officials.
Our union headquarters were then in a long, narrow room in one of
the business blocks, lighted by smoky oil lamps. The room was
crowded when the meeting was called to order. The men were
allowed to declare their feelings in speeches.
“Th’ miserly manufacturers,” growled Hal Linwood, a bow-legged
Socialist, “they never knows when they are well off, they dunno. Little
enough we gets now, and worse off we’ll be if they slices our wages
at the rate they would go. It ain’t just, and never will be just till we div
—”
“Order!” shouted the chairman. “This here isn’t no Socialist meeting.
What the man said at first is all right, though.”
“Hear! hear!” roared the crowd.
Linwood represented the prevailing opinion, and when the vote was
taken we declared in favor of a strike by a large majority.
Messengers were coming in from the other meetings, and we saw
that a general strike would be effected.
The situation was serious, though, for we were in the heart of winter,
the most inconvenient time for a strike.
I looked forward to it without any scruples, for it meant a chance for
me to rest. I had been given no vacations either in winter or summer,
and I felt that one was certainly due me.
I experienced a guilty feeling when I passed the silent mills the next
Monday morning. I felt as if I were breaking some great, authoritative
law. It was the same feeling I always experienced when I stayed
away from work, even for a day. I always avoided passing the mill for
fear the overseer would run out and drag me in to work.
During the early stages of the strike we were constantly in our strike
headquarters, getting news and appointing committees. Collectors
were sent out to other cities to take up contributions. Mass-meetings
were held in the city hall, and we were addressed by Mr. Gompers
and other labor leaders. Even in the public parks incendiary
meetings were common, and wild-eyed orators called us to
resistance—from the tail end of a cart.
The position of collector was eagerly sought, for to most of the men it
offered a higher wage than could be earned in the mill. It also meant
travel, dinners, and a good percentage of the collections. When I told
my uncle that a man named Chad was earning more money as a
collector than he could earn as a spinner, I was angrily told to mind
my own business.
In fact, the conduct of the strike, as I looked on it from behind the
scenes, was simply a political enterprise. Our leader kept urging us
to resist. He himself was not working in the mill, but was getting his
money from our dues. Several of our meetings were no more than
drinking bouts. The strike manager, who conducted our part in it,
elected his closest friends to important offices which offered good
remuneration.
I have been to football games when the home team knew that it was
beaten at the start, and yet the captain has pounded his men and
said: “Come on, boys, we’ve got them whipped.” That sort of artificial
courage was supplied us by our leaders. Perhaps it was necessary;
for the most of us were hungry, our clothes were worn, and the fire at
home had to be kept low. The grocers would not give us credit, and
the winter was cold. But the leaders grinned at us, pounded the
gavel on the table, and shouted: “This is a fight for right, men. We’ve
got the right end of the stick. Keep together and we’ll come out all
right!”
At one of the meetings, picketing committees were appointed, with
specific instructions to do all in their power to prevent “scabs” from
going into the mills. We boys were invited to special meetings, where
we were treated to tobacco by the men and lectured on the ethics of
the “scabbing system.”
“Just think, lads, here are those that would step in and take your
work. Think of it! That’s just what they’d do! Take the bread right out
of your mouths, and when the strike is done, you wouldn’t have no
work at all to go to. It’s criminal, and you mustn’t let it pass. Fight,
and fight hard. A ‘scab’s’ not human. Don’t be afraid to fight him by
fair means or foul. And then, too, the manufacturers have the police
and the judges and the governor on their side, because they are
moneyed men! They will try to drive us off the streets so that we
can’t show how strong we are. Look out for the ‘scabs’!”
His words came true, in part. The state police were called, several
strikers were arrested, and given the full penalty for disorderly
conduct and assault. We were not allowed to congregate on the
street corners. The police followed every crowd.
These precautions intensified the anger of the strikers. Strike
headquarters, in which we could meet and pass the day in social
ways, were opened in vacant stores. Here we came in the morning
and stayed through the day, playing cards, checkers, and talking
over the strike.
In regard to newspapers, there was a prevailing opinion among us
that the Boston Journal alone favored our side, so we bought it to the
exclusion of all other dailies. Against the Boston Transcript there was
a general antipathy. I liked to read it, but my uncle spoke against it.
“I don’t want anybody under my roof reading the paper that is owned
hand and foot by our enemies,” he argued, and I saw that I had
given him great offense.
The Boston papers sent their official photographers to take our
pictures. I posed, along with several of my friends, before our
headquarters, and had the pleasure of seeing the picture in the
paper under some such caption as “A group of striking back-boys.”
I did not suffer during the strike. I had a splendid time of it. While the
snow was on the ground I obtained a position as a sweeper in one of
the theaters, and I spent nearly every day for a while at matinées
and evening performances. The strike went on into the early part of
May, and, when the snow had gone, I went out with a little wagon—
picked coal and gathered junk. Through these activities I really
earned more spending money than I ever received for working in the
mill. I rather enjoyed the situation, and could not understand at the
time how people could say they wanted it to end.
Before it did end, the state police withdrew, and we went on guard
once more at the mill gates on watch for “strike-breakers.”
We boys made exciting work of this, encouraged by our elders. I
recall one little man and his wife, who did not believe in unions or
strikes. They did have a greed for money, and they had plenty of it
invested in tenements. They had no children to support. They were,
however, among the first to try to break the strike in our mill. Popular
antipathy broke with direful menace upon their heads. Every night a
horde of neighbors—men, women, boys, and girls—escorted them
home from their work, and followed them back to the mill gates every
morning. The women among us were the most violent. “Big Emily,” a
brawny woman, once brought her fist down on the little man’s head
with this malediction: “Curse ye! ye robber o’ hones’ men’s food!
Curse ye! and may ye come to want, thief!” The poor man had to
take the insult, for the flicker of an eye meant a mobbing. His wife
was tripped by boys and mud was plastered on her face. The pettiest
and the meanest annoyances were devised and ruthlessly carried
into effect, while the strike-breaking couple marched with the set of
their faces toward home.
Even the walls of their house could not protect them from the
menace of the mob. One of the strikers rented the lower floor of their
house, and one night, when we had followed them to the gate, he
invited us into the basement, produced an accordion, and started a
merry dance, which lasted well into the night.
The return of the swallows brought an end to the strike. We boys
resolved to vote against a return, for the May days promised joyous
outdoor life. But the men and women were broken in spirit and
heavily in debt, and a return was voted. We had fought four long
months and lost.
Chapter XX. My Steam Cooker
goes wrong. I go to Newport
for Enlistment on
a Training-ship
 Chapter XX. My Steam Cooker
goes wrong. I go to Newport
for Enlistment on
a Training-ship
I RETURNED to the mill with the feelings of an escaped convict who
has been returned to his cell after a day of freedom. My uncle found
that he had been put on the black-list, and consequently would not
be able to obtain work in any mill in the city. I was allowed to take up
a new position as “doffer.” This meant an advance in wages, but I
knew that I was not physically equal to it. There was nothing for me
to do, however, but accept, for there was a waiting line at the lower
end of the room and the overseer was not a man who offered things
twice.
The mill was getting more and more beyond me. It had taken my
strength and I was incapable of a man’s work, as a man’s work went
in the mule-room. I resolved, then, to break my aunt’s domination,
leave the mill, and earn my own way with the first thing that offered
itself outside the mill.
About this time I read of a young fellow who earned large profits by
selling steam cookers. I wrote to the firm, borrowed five dollars, and
obtained a sample and a territory. This cooker consisted of five
compartments which fitted in each other like a nest of boxes. The
sample was on such a small scale that great care had to be
exercised in a demonstration of it. I practised faithfully on it for a few
evenings, tried to sell one to my aunt, and then resolved to take a
day’s holiday and attempt a few sales. One cooker would yield a
good day’s pay. I resolved to abide by instructions and persevere.
So I started out one afternoon, full of hope, assured that the cooker
would sell on sight and that my way out of the mill had come. I did
not then think that personal appearance had everything to do with
successful salesmanship. I did not stop to think that a tall, bony, red-
eyed youth, with a front tooth missing and wearing trousers which
bagged at the knees, whose coat-sleeves were just high enough to
show that he had never worn a pair of cuffs in his life—I did not stop
to think that he would invite laughter and ridicule on his head. I faced
the situation seriously and earnestly, and I expected the same
consideration from the world.
I walked cheerfully to a wealthy portion of the town, in a district
where I was certain they would like to see my wonderful steam
cooker. In great, gulping patience I waited for an answer to my ring
before a very aristocratic house. I arranged my “patter” and
determined that everything should go on smoothly so far as my
talent was concerned.
The lady of the house appeared and I stated my business. She did
not invite me into her house. I exposed my wonderful machine,
pulled it apart, explained how she could cook cabbages, puddings,
and meats at one and the same time. I expatiated on the superiority
of steam-cooked foods, and implied that she could not intelligently
keep house and maintain a reputation as a cook unless she used the
steam cooker. She bore my “patter” with great patience, and must
have smiled at my cockney dialect, of which I was blissfully ignorant.
I had reached that part of the demonstration where the several
sections had to be fitted into each other, and had put the first two
sections in place and told what foods could be cooked in them, when
I came to grief at the third section. It stuck, and in spite of the beads
of perspiration which rolled down my face and a vain attempt to keep
up the “patter,” I could not unfasten it until I had turned the wonderful
cooker upside down, a proceeding which would have emptied the
beans and puddings in practical use. The woman was very kindly,
and she dismissed me with cordial words. But I went down those
steps chagrined and fully persuaded that I must stay in the mill.
My uncle was now earning his living by keeping another store. He
and my aunt were spending the profits in a next-door saloon. My
home life had not improved.
Then I remembered the novels I had read; some of them, an “Army
and Navy Series,” had told of apprentice life in the navy. I knew that
Newport was the recruiting station, and I resolved to enlist.
When I proposed the matter to my aunt, she agreed to let me go.
The following morning I obtained a day’s holiday and went on the
electric cars to the noted seaport town.
This trip abroad, with its opportunities to see that there were people
who did other things besides work in the mill, and with its freedom
and sunshine, made me more desperate than ever to leave the mill. I
was like the Pilgrim in the first chapter of Bunyan’s allegory, running
from the City of Destruction, fingers in ears, calling “Life, Life!”
I walked around Newport cliffs and touched the gateways of the
palaces which front the famous walk. I reveled in the shimmer of the
sea and the fragrance of shrubs and flowers. This was life and the
world! I must get out in it; take my place daily in it, and live the life of
a Man. God made the sun and the fragrant air; he made the flowers
and created health. That was due me, because it was not my sin, but
that of my elders, which had shut me out of it through my boyhood.
These were some of the thoughts uppermost in my mind. I walked
the narrow streets and broad avenues—places which I had read of
and had never hoped to see. If I had to return to the mill, I could say
that I had seen so much of the outside world, at least!
After I had watched the departure of some torpedo-boats in the
direction of a gray-fronted fort across the bay, I hurried in the
direction of the naval college to see if Uncle Sam would give me the
chance to leave the mill which others had denied.
I passed a training-ship with its housed deck. I walked along past
drill grounds and barracks and entered a quiet office. With a beating
heart I announced to the attendant that I had come to offer myself for
enlistment in the training-school. He led me into a large, dim room to
a group of uniformed officers. They asked me a few questions,
tested me with bits of colored wool, and then I was commanded to
disrobe.
The remainder of the examination must have been exceedingly
perfunctory, for the scales registered only one hundred and eighteen
pounds and I stood five feet eleven inches in my bare feet. That was
enough to exclude me, but they went on with the tests, examining
my teeth (the front one was missing), pounding my chest, and testing