Speaker 1: Snap dragons. Mister and Missus Scratch. Once upon a time
there lived a certain family of the name of Scratch.
It has a Russian or Polish look, and yet they
most certainly lived in England. They were remarkable for the
following peculiarity. They seldom seriously quarreled, but they never agreed
about anything. It is hard to say whether it were
more painful for their friends to hear them constantly contradicting
each other, or gratifying to discover that it meant nothing
and was only their way. It began with the father
and mother. They were a worthy couple and really attached
to each other, but they had a habit of contradicting
each other's statements and opposing each other's opinions, which, though
mutually understood and allowed for in private, was most trying
to the bystanders. In public. If one related an anecdote,
the other would break in with half a dozen corrections
of trivial details of no interest or importance to anyone
the speakers included. For instance, suppose the two dining in
a strange house, a Missus Scratch seated by the host
and contributing to the small talk of the dinner table. Thus, Oh, yes,
very changeable weather. Indeed, it looked quite promising yesterday morning
in the town. But it began to rain at noon
a quarter past eleven, My dear, mister Scratch's voice would
be heard to say from several chairs down, in the
corrective tones of a husband and father. And really, my dear,
so far from being a promising morning, I must say,
it looked about as threatening as it well could. Good.
Your memory is not always accurate in small matters, my love,
But missus Scratch had not been a wife a mother
for fifteen years to be snuffed out at one snap
of the marital snuffers. As mister Scratch leaned forward in
his chair, she leaned forward in hers and defended herself
across the intervening couples. Why, my dear, mister Scratch, you
said yourself the weather had not been so promising for
a week. What I said, my dear, pardon me, was
that the barometer was higher than it had been for
a week. But as you might have observed if these
details were in your line, my love, which they are not,
the rise was extraordinarily rapid, and there is no surer
sign of unsettled weather. But miss Miss Scratch is apt
to forget these unimportant trifles, he added, with a comprehensive
smile round the dinner table. Her thoughts are very properly
absorbed by the more important domestic questions of the nursery. Now,
I think that's rather unfair on mister Scratch's part. Missus
Scratchwood chirp with a smile, quite as affable and general
as her husband's. I'm sure he's quite as forgetful and
inaccurate as I am. And I don't think my memory
is at all a bad one. You forgot the dinner
hour when we were going out to dine last week, nevertheless,
said mister Scratch. And you couldn't help me when I
asked you, was the sprightly retort. And I'm sure it's
not like you to forget anything about dinner, my dear.
The letter was addressed to you, said mister Scrat. I
sent it to you by Jemima, said missus Scratch. I
didn't read it, said mister Scratch. Well you burnt it,
said missus Scratch. And as I always say, there's nothing
more foolish than burning a letter of invitation before the day,
for when it's certain to forget. I've no doubt you
always do say it, mister Scratch remarked with a smile,
But I certainly never remember to have heard the observation
from your lips, my love, whose memories in fault? There?
Asked Missus Scratch triumphantly, And as at this point the
ladies rose, Missus Scratch had the last word. Indeed, as
may be gathered from this conversation, Missus Scratch was quite
able to defend herself. When she was yet a bride
and young and timid, she used to collapse where mister
Scratch contradicted her statements and set her stories straight in public.
Then she hardly ever opened her lips without disappearing under
the domestic extinguisher. But in the course of fifteen years
she had learned that mister Scratch's bark was a great
deal worse than his bite, if indeed he had a
bite at all. Thus, snubs that made other people's ears
tingle had no effect whatever on the lady to whom
they were addressed, for she knew exactly what they were worth,
and had by this time become fairly adept at snapping
in return. In the days when she succumbed, she was
occasionally unhappy, but now she and her husband understood each other,
and having agreed to differ, they unfortunately agreed also to
differ in public. Indeed, it was the bystanders who had
the worst of it on these occasions. To the worthy
couple themselves. The habit had become second nature and in
no way affected the friendly tenor of their domestic relations.
They would interfere with each other's conversation, contradicting assertions and
disputing conclusions for a whole evening. And then, when all
the world and his wife thought that these ceaseless sparks
of bickering must blaze up into a flaming quarrel, as
soon as they were alone, they would bowl amiably home
in a cab, criticizing the friends who were commenting upon them,
and as little agreed about the events of the evening
as about the details of any other events whatsoever. Yes,
the bystanders certainly had the worst of it. Those who
were near wished themselves anywhere else, especially when appealed to
Those who were at a distance did not mind so much.
A domestic squabble at a certain distance is interesting, like
an engagement viewed from a point beyond the range of guns.
In such a position one may some day be placed oneself. Moreover,
it gives a touch of excitement to a dull evening
to be able to say, sought a vote, chay to
one's neighbor. Do listen, The scratches are at it again.
Their unmarried friends thought a terrible abyss of tyranny and
aggravation must lie beneath it all, and bless their stars
that they were still single and able to tell a
tale their own way. The married ones had more idea
of how it really was, and wished, in the name
of common sense and good taste, that Scratch and his
wife would not make fools of themselves. So it went on, however,
and so I suppose it goes on still, for not
many habits are cured in middle Age. On certain questions
of comparatives speaking, their views were never identical, such as
the temperature being hot or cold, things being light or dark,
the apple tarts being sweet or sour. So one day
mister Scratch came into the room, rubbing his hands and
planting himself at the fire with bitterly cold it is
to day to be sure, why my dear William said
missus scratch, I'm sure you must have got a cold.
I feel a fire quite oppressive myself. You were wishing
you to seal skin jacket yesterday when it wasn't half
as cold as it is to day, said mister Scratch.
My dear William, Why the children were shivering the whole
day and the wind was in the north due east,
missus Scratch, I know by the moke, said missus Scratch, softly,
but decidedly. I fancy I can tell an east wind
when I feel it, said mister Scratch, jocosely to the company.
I told jermy matter, look at the weathercock, murmured missus Scratch.
I don't care a fig for Jemima, said her husband.
On another occasion, Missus Scratch and the lady friend were conversing.
We met him at the smith's. A gentleman like, agreeable man,
about forty, said missus Scratch, in reference to some matter
interesting to both ladies. Not a day over thirty five,
said mister Scratch from behind his newspaper. Why, my dear William,
his hair's gray, said missus Scratch. Plenty of men are
gray at thirty, said mister Scratch. I knew a man
who was gray at twenty five, well, forty or thirty five.
It doesn't much matter, said missus Scratch, about to resume
her narration. Five years matter a good deal to most
people at thirty five, said mister Scratch, as he walked
towards the door. They would make a remarkable difference to me,
I know, And with a jocular air, mister Scratch departed,
and Missus Scratch had the rest of the anecdote her
own way. The little scratches. The spirit of contradiction finds
a place in most nurseries, though to a varying degree
in different ones. Children snap and snile by nature like
young puppies, and most of us can remember taking part
in some such spirited dialogs as the following, I will
you dn't you can't. I dare you shall? I shall
tell them, Ah, you won't. I don't care if you do.
It is the part of wise parents to repress these
squibs and crackers of juvenile contention, and to enforce that
slowly learned lesson that in this world one must often
pass over and put up with things in other people.
Being oneself by no means perfect. Also that it is
a kindness and almost a duty to let people think
and say and do things in their own way occasionally.
But even if mister and missus Scratch had ever thought
of teaching all this to their children, it must be
confessed that the lesson would not have come with a
good grace from either of them, since they snapped and
snarled between themselves as much or more than their children.
In the nursery. The two eldest were the leaders in
the nursery squabble. Between these, a boy and a girl,
a ceaseless war of words was waged from morning to night.
And as neither of them lacked ready wit, and both
were in constant practice, the art of snapping was cultivated
by them to the highest pitch. It began at breakfast,
if not sooner. You've taken my chair. It's not your chair,
you know, it's the one I like, And it was
in my place. How do you know it was in
your place? Never mind? I do know, No, you don't. Yes,
I do. Suppose I say it was in my place.
You can't, for it wasn't. I can if I like, well,
was it? Shan't tell you? Ah? That shows it wasn't. No,
it doesn't, Yes, it does. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
The direction of their daily walks was a fruitful of
deference of opinion. Let's go on the common today, nurse. Oh,
don't let's go there. We're always going on the Common.
I'm sure we're not. We've not been there for ever
so long. Oh what a story we were there on Wednesday.
Let's go down Gypsy Lane. We never go down Gypsy Lane.
Why we're always going down Gypsy Lane and there's nothing
to see there. I don't care. I won't go on
the Common, and I shall go and get Papa and
say we're to go down gypsy lane. I can run
faster than you. That's very sneaking, But I don't care, Papa, Papa.
Polly's called me a sneak. No I didn't, Papa, you did, No,
I didn't. I only said it was sneaking of you
to say you'd run faster than me and get Papa
to say we were to go down gypsy Lane. Then
you did call him sneaking, said mister scratch. And you're
a very naughty, ill manner little girl. You're getting very troublesome, Polly,
and I shall have to send you to school where
you'll be kept in order go where your brother wishes
at once. For Polly and her brother had reached an
age when it was convenient, if possible, to throw the
blame of all nursery differences on Polly. In families where
domestic discipline is rather fractious than firm, there comes a
stage when the girls almost invariably go to the wall
because they will stand snubbing and the boys will not.
Domestic authority, like some other powers, is apt to be
magnified on the weaker class. But mister Scratch would not
always listen, even to Harry. If you don't give it
me back directly, I'll tell about your eating the two
magnum bonums in the kitchen garden, and on Sunday, said
Master Harry, on one occasion, tell tale, tit. Your tongue
shall be slit, and every dog in the town shall
have a little bit quoited. His sister. Ah, you've called
me a tell tale. Now I'll go and tell Papa
you got into a fine scrape for calling me names
the other day. Go then, I don't care. You wouldn't
like me to go. I know you dn't. That's what
it is. I dare, then, why don't you? Oh, I
am going, but you'll see what will be the end
of it. Polly, however, had her own reasons for remaining stolid,
and Harry started, but when he reached the landing, he paused.
Mister Scratch had especially announced that morning that he did
not wish to be disturbed, and though he was a favorite,
Harry had no desire to invade the dining room at
this crisis. So he returned to the nursery and said,
with a magnanimous air, I don't want to get you
into a scrape, Polly. If you'll beg my pardon, I
won't go. I'm sure I shan't, said Polly, who was
equally well informed as to the position of affairs at headquarters.
Go if you dare. I won't if you want me not,
said Harry, discreetly, waving the question of apologies. But I'd
rather you went, said the obdurate Polly. You're always telling tales.
Go and till now if you're not afraid. So Harry went,
but at the bottom of the stairs he lingered again
and was meditating how to return with most credit to
his dignity, when Polly's face appeared through the banisters, and
Polly's sharp tongue goaded him on. Ah, I see you,
you're stopping. You daren't go, I dare, said Harry, And
at last he went. As he turned the handle of
the door, mister scratch turned round. Please Papa, Harry began.
Get away with you, cried mister scratch. Didn't I tell
you I was not to be disturbed this morning? What
an extraw? But Harry had shut the door and withdrawn precipitately.
Once outside, he returned to the nursery with dignified steps
and an air of apparent satisfaction, saying, you're to give
me the bricks? Please? Who says so? Why? Who should
say so? Where have I been, pray? I don't know,
and I don't care. I've been to Papa there. Did
he say I was to give up the bricks? I've
told you, No, you've not. I shan't tell you any more.
Then I'll go to Papa and ask. Go by all means,
I won't if you tell me, truly, I sh aun't
tell you anything. Go and ask if you dare, said Harry,
only too glad to have the tables turned. Polly's expedition
met with the same fate, and she attempted to cover
her retreat in a similar manner. Ah, you didn't tell
I don't believe you, asked Papa, don't you very well? Well?
Did you never mind? Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Meanwhile,
mister Scratch scolded Missus Scratch for not keeping the children
in better order, and Missus Scratch said it was quite
impossible to do so when mister Scratch spoiled Harry as
he did and weakened her Missus Scratch's authority by constant interference.
Differences of sex gave point to many of these nursery squabbles,
as it so often does to domestic broils. Boys will
never do what they're asked, Polly would complain, girls are
such unreasonable things. Was Harry's retort, not half so unreasonable
as the things you ask Ah, that's a different thing.
Women have got to do what men tell them, whether
it's reasonable or not. No, they've not, said Polly. At
least that's only husbands and wives. All women are inferior animals,
said Harry. Try ordering mamma to do what you want
and see, said Polly. Men have got to give orders
and women have to obey, said Harry, falling back on
the general principle. And when I get a wife, I'll
take care, I make her do what I tell her.
But you'll have to obey your husband. When you get one.
I won't have a husband. Then I can do as
I like. Oh won't you? You'll try to get one.
I know girls always want to be married. I'm sure.
I don't know why, said Polly. They must have had
enough of men if they have brothers. And so they
went on add in for nitum, with ceaseless arguments that
proved nothing and convinced nobody, and a continual stream of
contradiction that just fell short of downright quarreling. Indeed, there
was a kind of snapping even less near to a
dispute than in the cases just mentioned. The little Scratches,
like some other children, were under the unfortunate delusion that
it sounds clever to hear little boys and girls snap
each other up with smart sayings and old and rather
vulgar plays upon words as these. I'll give you a
Christmas box, which ear will you have it on? I
won't stand it, pray, take a chair. You shall have
it to morrow? To morrow, never comes, and so if
a visitor kindly began to talked to one of the children,
another was sure to draw near and take up all
the first child's answers with smart comments and catches that
sounded as silly as they were. Tiresome and impertinent and
ill mannered as this was, Mister and Missus Scratch never
put a stop to it. Indeed, it was only a
caricature of what they did themselves. But they often said,
we can't think how it is that children are always squabbling,
the Scratch's dog and the hot tempered gentleman. It is
wonderful how the state of mind of a whole household
is influenced by the heads of it. Mister Scratch was
a very kind master, and Missus Scratch was a very
kind mistress, And yet their servants lived in a perpetual
fever of irritability that just fell short of discontent. They
jostled each other on the back stairs, said sharp things
in the pantry, and kept up a perennial warfare on
the subject of the duty of the sexes. With the
general manservant. They gave warning on the slightest provocation. The
very dog was infected by the snapping mania. He was
not a brave dog, he was not a vicious dog,
and no high breeding sanctioned his pretensions to arrogance. But
like his owners, he had contracted a bad habit, a
trick which made him the pest of all timid visitors,
and indeed of all visitors whatsoever. The moment anyone approached
the house. On certain occasions, when he was spoken to,
and often in no traceable connection with any cause at all,
Snap the mongrel would rush out and bark in his
sharp little voice, Yap, yap yap. If the visitor made
a stand, he would bound away sideways on his four
little legs. But the moment the visitor went on his
way again, Snap was at his heels. Yap, yap, yap.
He barked at the milkman, the butcher's boy, and the baker,
though he saw them every day. He never got used
to the washerwoman, and she never got used to him.
She said, he put her in mind of that there
black dog in the pilgrim's progress. He sat at the
gate in summer and yapped at every vehicle and every
pedestrian who ventured to pass on the high road. He
never but once had the chance of barking at burglars,
and then though he barked long and loud, nobody got up,
for they said it's only Snap's way. The Scratches lost
a silver teapot, a Stilton cheese, and two electro christening
mugs on this occasion, and mister and Missus Scratch dispute
who it was who discouraged reliance on Snap's warning to
the present day. One Christmas time, a certain hot tempered
gentleman came to visit the Scratches, a tall, sandy, energetic
young man who carried his own bag from the railway.
The bag had been crammed rather than packed after the
wont of bachelor's and you could see where the heel
of a boot distended the leather, and where the bottle
of shaving cream lay. As he came up to the house,
out came Snap, as usual, Yap, Yap, yap. Now the
gentleman was very fond of dogs, and he had borne
this greeting some dozen of times from Snap, who, for
his part, knew the visitor quite as well as the washerwoman,
and rather better than the butcher's boy. The gentleman had good, sensible,
well behaved dogs, of his own, and was greatly discussed
with Snap's conduct. Nevertheless, he spoke friendly to him, and Snap,
who had had many a bit from his plate, could
not help stopping for a minute to lick his hand.
But no sooner did the gentleman proceed on his way
than Snap flew at his heels in the usual fashion yup, yup, yup,
on which the gentleman, being hot tempered, and one of
those people with whom it is as they say, a
word and a blow, and the blow first made a
dash at Snap, and Snap, taking to his heels, the
gentleman flung his carpet bag after him. The bottle of
shaving cream hit upon a stone and was smashed. The
heel of the boot caught Snap on the back and
sent him squealing to the kitchen. And he never barked
at that gentleman again. If the gentleman disapproved of Snap's conduct,
he still like less the continual snapping of the Scratch
family themselves. He was an old friend of mister and
missus Scratch, however, and knew that they were really happy together,
and it was only a bad habit which made them
constantly contradict each other. It was in allusion to their
real affection for each other and their perpetual disputing that
he called them the snapping turtles. When the war of
words waxed hottest at the dinner table between his host
and hostess, he would drive his hands through his shock
of sandy hair and say, with a comical glance out
of his umber eyes, don't flirt, my friends. It makes
a bachelor feel awkward, and neither mister nor missus scratch
could help laughing with the little scratches. His measures were
more vigorous. He was very fond of children and a
good friend to them. He grudged no time or trouble
to help them in their games and projects, but he
would not tolerate their snapping up each other's words in
his presence. He was much more truly kind than many visitors,
who think it polite to smile at the sauciness and
forwardness which ignorant vanity leads children so often to show
off before strangers. The civil acquaintances only abuse both children
and parents behind their backs for the very bad habits
which they helped to encourage. The hot tempered gentleman's treatment
of his young friends was very different. One day, he
was talking to Polly and making some kind inquiries about
her lessons, to which she was replying in a quiet
and sensible fashion, when up came Master Harry and began
to display his wit by comments on the conversation and
by snapping at and contradicting his sister's remarks, to which
she retorted, and the usual snap dialog went on as usual.
Then you like music, said the hot tempered gentleman. Yes,
I like it very much, said Polly. Oh, do you
Harry broke In? Then what are you always crying over it?
For I'm not always crying over it? Yes you are, No,
I'm not. I only cry sometimes when I stick fast.
Your music must be very sticky, for you're always stuck fast.
Hold your tongue, said the hot tempered gentleman, with what
he imagined to be a very waggish air. Harry put
out his tongue and held it with his finger and thumb.
It was unfortunate that he had not time to draw
it in again before the hot tempered gentleman gave him
a stinging box on the ear, which brought his teeth
rather sharply together on the tip of his tongue, which
was in consequence. It's no use speaking, said the hot
temper gentleman, driving his hand through his hair. Children are
like dogs, They are very good judges of their real friends.
Harry did not like the hot temper gentleman a bit
the less, because he was obliged to respect and obey him,
and all the children welcomed him boisterously when he arrived
that Christmas, which we have spoken of in connection with
his attack on Snap. It was on the morning of
Christmas Eve that the China punch bowl was broken. Mister
Scratch had a warm dispute with Missus Scratch as to
whether it had been kept in a safe place, after
which both had a brisk encounter with the housemaid, who
did not know how it happened, and she, flouncing down
the back passage, kicked Snap, who forthwith flew at the
gardener as he wasinging in the horseradish for the beef,
who stepped backwards trod upon the cat, who spat and
swore and went up the pump with her tail as
big as a fox's brush. To avoid this domestic scene,
the hot tempered gentleman withdrew to the breakfast room and
took up a newspaper. By and by, Harry and Polly
came in, and they were soon snapping comfortably over their
own affairs in a corner. The hot tempered gentleman's umber
eyes had been looking over the top of his newspaper
at them for some time before he called Harry, my boy,
and Harry came up to him. Show me your tongue.
Harry said he what for? Said Harry, You're not a doctor.
Do as I tell you, said the hot tempered gentleman,
and as Harry saw his hand moving, he put his
tongue out with all possible haste. The hot temper gentleman sighed, ah,
he said, in depressed tones, I thought, so, Polly, come
and let me look at yours. Polly, who had crept
up during this process, now put out hers. But the
hot tempered gentleman looked gloomier still and shook his head.
What is it? Cried both the children, what do you mean?
And they seized the tips of their tongues in their
fingers to feel for themselves. But the hot tempered gentleman
went slowly out of the room without answering, passing his
hands through his hair and saying ah hum, and nodding
with an air of grave foreboding. Just as he crossed
the threshold, he turned back and put his head into
the room. Have you ever noticed that your tongues are
growing pointed? He asked? No, cried the children in alarm.
Are they if ever you find them becoming forked? Said
the gentleman in solemn tones, let me know, with which
he departed, gravely, shaking his head. In the afternoon, the
children attacked him again. Do tell us what's the matter
with our tongues. You were snapping and squabbling just as
usual this morning, said the hot tempered gentleman. Well we forgot,
said Polly. We don't mean anything, you know, But never
mind that. Now, please tell us about our tongues. What
is going to happen to them? I am very much afraid,
said the hot tempered gentleman, in solemn, measured tones. That
you are both of you fast going to the dogs,
suggested Harry, who was learned in cant expressions. Dogs, said
the hot temper gentleman, driving his hands through his hair.
Bless your life. No nursing half so pleasant, that is,
unless all dogs were like snap, which mercifully they are not.
No my sad fear is that you are both of
you rapidly going to the snap dragons. And not another
word would the hot tempered gentleman say on the subject.
Christmas Eve, in the course of a few hours, mister
and missus Scratch recovered their equanimity. The punch was brewed
in a jug and tasted quite as good as usual.
The evening was very lively. There were a Christmas tree,
Yule cakes, log and candles, firmity and snap dragon. After supper,
when the company was tired of the tree and had
gained an appetite by the hard exercise of stretching to
high branches, blowing out dangerous tapers, and cutting ribbon and
pack thread in all directions, supper came with its welcome
cakes and firmity in punch. And when firmity somewhat palled
upon the taste, it must be admitted to boast more
sentiment than flavor. As a Christmas dish, the Yule candles
were blown out, and both the spirits and the paletts
of the party were stimulated by the mysterious and pungent
pleasures of snap dragon. Then, as the hot temper gentleman
warmed his coat tails at the eulog A grim smile
stole over his features as he listened to the sounds
in the room. In the darkness, the blue flames leaped
and danced. The raisins were snapped and snatched from hand
to hand, scattering fragments of flame hither and thither. The
children shouted as the fiery sweetmeats burnt away the mawkish
taste of the firmity. Mister Scratch cried that they were
spoiling the carpet. Missus Scratch complained that he had spilt
some brandy on her dress. Mister Scratch retorted that she
should not wear dresses so susceptible of damage. In the
family circle, Missus Scratch recalled an old speech of mister
Scratch on the subject of wearing one's nice things for
the benefit of one's family, and not reserving them for visitors.
Miss Scratch remembered that Missus Scratch's excuse for buying that
particular dress when she did not need it was her
intention of keeping it for the next year. The children
disputed as to the credit for courage and the amount
of raisins due to each snap barked furiously at the flames,
and the maids hustled each other for good places in
the doorway, and would not have allowed the manservant to
see at all. But he looked over their heads. Stu
stu at it at it chuckled the hot tempered gentleman
in undertones. When he said this, it seemed as if
the voices of mister and missus scratch rose higher in
matrimonial repartee, and the children's squabbles became louder, and the
dog yelped as if he were mad, and the maid's
contest was sharper, while the snap dragon flames leaped up
and up, and blue fire flew about the room like foam.
At last, the raisins were finished, and the flames were
all but out, and the company withdrew to the drawing room.
Only Harry lingered. Come along, Harry, said the hot temper gentleman.
Wait a minute, said Harry. You had better come, said
the gentleman. Why, said Harry. There's nothing to stop for
The raisins are eaten, the brandy is burnt out. No
it's not, said Harry. Well almost, it would be better
if it were quite out. Now come, it's dangerous for
a boy like you to be alone. With the snap
dragons to night Fiddlesticks, said Harry, go your own way.
Then said the hot temper gentleman, and he bounced out
of the room, and Harry was left alone. He crept
up to the table where one little pale blue flame
flickered in the snap dragon dish. What a pity it
should go out, said Harry. At this moment the brandy
bottle on the sideboard caught his eye. Just a little
war murmured Harry to himself, and he uncorked the bottle
and poured a little brandy onto the flame. Now, of course,
as soon as the brandy touched the fire, all the
brandy and the bottle blazed up at once, and the
bottle split to pieces. And it was very fortunate for
Harry that he did not get seriously hurt. A little
of the hot brandy did get into his eyes and
made them smart, so that he had to shut them
for a few seconds. But when he opened them again,
what a sight he saw. All over the room the
blue flames leaped and danced as they had leaped and
danced in the soup plate with the raisins, and Harry
saw that each successive flame was the fold in the
long body of a bright blue dragon, which moved like
the body of a snake. And the room was full
of these dragons. In the face, they were like the
dragons one seas, made of very old blue and white china,
and they had forked tongues like the tongues of serpents.
They were most beautiful in color, being sky blue. Lobsters
who have just changed their coats are very handsome, But
the violet and indigo of a lobster's coat is nothing
to the brilliant sky blue of a snap dragon. How
they leaped about, they were forever leaping over each other,
like seals in play. But if it was play at
all with them, it was of a very rough kind.
For as they jumped, they snapped and barked at each other,
and their barking was like that of the barking canoe
in the zoological gardens. And from time to time they
tore the hair out of each other's heads with their
claws and scattered it about the floor, and as it
dropped it was like the flecks of flame people shake
from their fingers when they are eating snap dragon raisins.
Harry stood aghast, What fun, said a voice close by him,
and he saw that one of the dragons was lying
near not joining in the game. He had lost one
of the forks of his tongue by accident and could
not bark for a while. I'm glad you think it funny,
said Harry. I don't, that's right, snap away, sneered the dragon.
You're a perfect treasure. They'll take you in with them
the third round. Not those creatures, cried Harry. Yes, those creatures,
And if I hadn't lost my bark, i'd be the
first to lead you off, said the dragon. Oh, the
game will exactly suit you. What is it, please, Harry asked.
You better not say please to the others, said the dragon,
if you don't want to have all your hair pulled out.
The game is this. You have always to be jumping
over somebody else, and you must either talk or bark.
If anybody speaks to you, you must snap in return.
I need not explain what snapping is. You know, if
any one, by accident gives a civil answer, a claw
full of hair is torn out of his head to
stimulate his brain. Nothing can be funnier. I daresay it
suits you capitally, said Harry. But I'm sure, we shouldn't
like it. I mean, men and women and children. It
wouldn't do for us at all, wouldn't it, said the dragon.
You don't know how many human beings dance with dragons
on Christmas Eve. If we are kept going in a
house till after midnight, we can pull people out of
their beds and take them to dance in Vesuvius, vesuvious,
cried Harry, Yes, Vesuvius. We came from Italy originally. You know.
Our skins are the color of the Bay of Naples.
We live on dried grapes and ardent spirits. We have
glorious fun in the mountains sometimes, oh what snapping and
scratching and tearing delicious. There are times when the scrobbling
becomes too great. A mother mountain won't stand it and
spits us all out and throws cinders after us. But
this is only at times. We had a charming meeting
last year, So many human beings and how they can snap.
It was a choice party, so very select. We always
have plenty of saucy children and servants, husbands and wives too,
and quite as many of the former as the latter,
if not more. But besides these, we had two vestrymen,
a country postmaster who devoted his time talents to insulting
the public instead of learning the postal regulations. Three cabmen
and two fairs. Two young shop girls from a Berlin
wool shop in a town where there was no competition,
four commercial travelers, six landladies, six old bailey lawyers, several
widows from almshouses, seven single gentlemen, and nine cats who
swore at everything. A dozen sulfur colored screaming cockatoos, a
lot of street children from a town, a pack of
mongrel curs from the colonies who snapped at the human
being's heels. And five elderly ladies in their Sunday bonnets
with prayer books who have been fighting for good seats
in church. Dear me, said Harry. If you can find
nothing sharper to say than dear me said the dragon,
you will fare badly. I can tell you why. I
thought you'd a sharp tongue, but it's not forked yet.
I see here. They are, however, off with you, and
if you value your curls, snap, And before Harry could reply,
the snap dragons came on with their third round, and
as they passed, they swept Harry with them. He shuddered
as he looked at his companions. They were as transparent
as shrimps, but of this lovely ceruleum blue. And as
they leaped they barked half half, like barking gnoos. And
when they leaped, Harry had to leap with them. Besides barking,
they snapped and wrangled with each other, and in this
Harry must join. Also pleasant, isn't it? Said one of
the blue dragons. Not at all, snapped Harry. At your
bad taste, snapped the blue No, it's not snapped Harry.
Then it's pride and perverseness. You want your hair combing?
Oh please don't, shrieked Harry forgetting himself on which the
dragon clawed a handful of hair out of his head,
and Harry screamed, and the blue dragons barked and danced.
That major hair curled, isn't it, asked another dragon, leaping
over Harry. That's no business of yours. Harry snapped as
well as he could for crying. It's more my pleasure
than business, retorted the dragon. Keep it to yourself, then
snapped Harry, I mean to share it with you when
I get hold of your hair, snapped the dragon. Wait
till you get the chance, Harry snapped, with desperate presence
of mind. Do you know whom you're talking to? Roared
the dragon, and he opened his mouth from ear to
ear and shot out his forked tongue in Harry's face.
And the boy was so frightened that he forgot to snap,
and cried, piteously, Oh, I beg your pardon, please don't,
On which the blue dragon clawed another handful of hair
out of his head, and all the dragons barked as before.
How long the dreadful game went on. Harry never exactly
knew well practiced as he was in snapping in the nursery.
He often failed to think of a retort, and paid
for his unreadiness by the loss of his hair. Oh,
how foolish and wearisome. All this rudeness and snapping now
seemed to him. But on he had to go, wondering
all the time how near it was to twelve o'clock,
and whether the snap dragons would stay till midnight and
take him with them to Vesuvius. At last, to his joy,
it became evident that the brandy was coming to an end.
The dragons moved slower, they could not leap so high,
and at last, one after another they began to go out.
Oh if they only all of them get away before twelve,
thought poor Harry. At last there was only one. He
and Harry jumped about and snapped and barked, and Harry
was thinking with joy that he was the last, when
the clock in the hall gave that whirring sound which
some clocks do before they strike, as if it was
clearing its throat. Oh please go, screamed Harry in despair.
The blue dragon leaped up and took such a claw
full of hair out of the boy's head that it
seemed as if part of the skin went too. But
that leap was his last. He went out at once,
vanishing before the first of twelve, and Harry was left
on his face on the floor in the darkness conclusion.
When his friends found him, there was blood on his forehead.
Harry thought it was where the dragon applawed him, but
they said it was a cut from a fragment of
the broken brandy bottle. The dragons had disappeared as completely
as the brandy. Harry was cured of snapping. He had
had quite enough of it for a lifetime, and the
catch contradictions of the household now made him shudder. Polly
had not had the benefit of his experiences, yet she
improved also. In the first place, snapping, like other kinds
of quarreling, requires two parties to it, and Harry would
never be a party to snapping any more. And when
he gave civil and kind answers to Polly's smart speeches,
she felt ashamed of herself and did not repeat them.
In the second place, she heard about the snap dragons.
Harry told her all about it, and to the hot
tempered gentleman. Now do you think it's true, Polly asked
the hot tempered gentleman. Umh said, he driving his hands
through his hair. You know I warned you you were
going to the snap dragons. Harry and Polly snubbed the
little ones when they snapped, and utterly discountenanced snapping in
the nursery. The example and admonitions of elder children are
a powerful instrument of nursery discipline, and before long there
was not a sharp tongue amongst all the little scratches.
But I doubt of the parents were ever cured. I
don't know if they heard the story. Besides, old habits
are not easily cured when one is old. I fear
mister and Missus Scratch have yet got to dance with
the dragons. End of Snap Dragons by J. H. Ewing