Shooting Porpoises
Bang, bang! went the gun at the side of the San Jacinto, after we had been two days out at sea on the way to Savannah. We were startled at such a strange sound on shipboard, and asked:
“What are they doing?”
A few innocents of the deep, for the purpose of breathing or sport, had lifted themselves above the wave, and a gentleman found amusement in tickling them with shot. As the porpoise rolled over wounded, and its blood colored the wave, the gunner was congratulated by his comrades on the execution made.
It may have been natural dullness that kept us from appreciating the grandeur of the deed. Had the porpoise impeded the march of the San Jacinto, I would have said:
“Dose it with lead!”
If there had been a possibility that by coming up to breathe it would endanger our own supply of air, I would have said:
“Save the passengers and kill the dolphins!”
If the marksman had harpooned a whale, there would have been the oil for use, or had struck down a gull, in its anatomy he might have advanced science. If he had gunpowdered the cook, it might, in small quantities, have made him animated; or the stewardess, there would have been the fun of seeing her jump. But alas for the cruel disposition of the man who could shoot a porpoise!
There is no need that we go to sea to find the same style of gunning.
After tea the parlor is full of romp. The children are playing “Ugly Mug,” and “Mrs. Wiggins,” and “Stage Coach,” and “Bear,” and “Tag,” and “Yonder stands a lovely creature.” Papa goes in among the playing dolphins with the splash and dignity of a San Jacinto. He cries, “Jim, get my slippers!” “Mary, roll up the stand!” “Jane, get me the evening newspaper!” “Sophia, go to bed!” “Harry, quit that snicker!” “Stop that confounded noise, all of you!” The fun is over. The waters are quiet. The dolphins have turned their last somersault. Instead of getting down on his hands and knees, and being as lively a “bear” as any of them, he goes to shooting porpoises.
Here is a large school of famous pretension — professors high-salaried, apparatus complete, o lobes on which you can travel round the world in five minutes, spectroscopes, and Leyden jars, and chromatropes, and electric batteries. No one disputes its influence or its well-earned fame. The masters and misses that graduate come out equipped for duty. Long may it stand the adornment of the town. But a widow whose sons were killed in the war opens a school in her basement. She has a small group of children whose tuition is her subsistence. The high school looks with sharp eyes on the rising up of the low school. The big institution has no respect for little institutions. The parents patronizing the widow must be persuaded that they are wasting their children’s time in that basement. Women have no right to be widows or have their sons killed in the war. From the windows of the high school the arrows are pointed at the helpless establishment in the corner. “Bang!” goes the artillery of scorn till one of the widow’s scholars has gone. “Bang!” go the guns from the deck of the great educational craft till the innovating institution turns over and disappears. Well done! Used it up quick! Ha! ha! ha! SJwoting porpoises!
Grab, Chokeham & Co. have a large store. They sell more goods than any in town. They bracr over their income and the size of the class Jn their show-window. They have enough clerks on tight salaries to man a small navy. Mr. Xeedham, an honest man with small capital, opens a store in the same business. One morning Mr. Grab says to his partner, Mr. Chokeham:
“Do you know a young chap has opened a store down on the other end of this block in the same business?”
“Has, eh? We will settle him very speedily.’’
Forthwith it is understood that if at the small store a thing is sold for fifty cents, at the large store you can get it for thirty-five. That is less than cost, but Grab & Chokeham are an old house, and can stand it, and Xeedham cannot. Small store’s stock of goods is getting low, and no money to replenish. Small store’s rent is due, and nothing with which to pay it. One day small store is crowded with customers, but they have come to the sheriff’s sale. The big fish has swallowed the little one. Grab & Chokeham roll on the floor of the counting-room in excess of merriment. Xeedham goes home to cry his eyes out. Big store had put an end to small store. Plenty of room for both, but the former wanted all the sea to itself. No one had anv ricrht to show his commercial head in those waters. “Pop!” “Pop!” Shooting porpoises!
The first church of the village has a lare congregation and a good minister. Neither pastor nor people have ever been excited about anything save once, when a resident of the city moved into the village and tried to distract the church by suggesting a young people’s prayer-meeting; but the officials formed themselves into a line, as at a fire, and passed buckets of cold water till the danger was put out.
They did not seem to know that Fort Sumter had been fired on till after General Lee’s surrender. About the last item of fresh news they seemed to have heard was that Moses slew an Egyptian, but they said not much about that for the reason that they did not want to commit themselves, or spoke of it in such a guarded way that if they wanted to change sides on the question they could do so without sacrificing their manliness. The last church that Rip Van Winkle attended before getting drowsy was that. On the day he left they were asleep, and when he woke up they were asleep yet. The dominie has not prepared a new sermon for ten years. The paper is very yellow — a color he prefers, since it looks like the parchment on which the Scriptures were originally written. The same Thanksgiving discourse does for every year with this slight change: He has two slips of paper, one marked A, the other B. If it has been a prosperous year, then on Thanksgiving day he uses the slip marked A; but if the corn and potatoes have been poor, he uses the slip B. Everything in that church is comfortable, fat and easy. But a few good men. wanting a little more life, build a second church and call a devoted minister. Their means are small and the times hard. The old minister does not like the new one. and takes even* opportunity* of keeping him humble. Old minister goes around one afternoon to hear new minister, wh: is of course, embarrassed, and does not do as well as usual, and nearly breaks down in the sermon. Old minister looks mortified, puts his head down on the pew in front to hide his embarrassment, and goes home wondering how any people can stand such preaching.
The Second Church finally £oes down. It had been under a broadside fire ever since the day it was dedicated. There was room for two — yea. for :: .r — relio-ious societies, but Firs: Church did not think so. Ofttimes was the experiment tried again, but no sooner did a Methodist, or Bapris:. or Epis-:: oal head lift above the water than there came from the old-established meeting-house of the place a volley of anathemas. Indeed, for the last twenty years the pastor and people have given themselves up to shooting porpoi:
Is it not time that the world stopped wasting its ammunition? If you want to shoot, there is the fox of cruel cunning, and the porcupine of fretfulness, and the vulture of filth, and the weasel of meanness, and the bear of religious grumbling. Oh for more hunters who can “draw a bead” so as every time to send plump into the dust a folly or a sin! But let alone the innocent things of land and deep. The world is wide enough for us all.
Big newspapers, have mercy on the little. Great merchants, spare the weak. Let the San Jacinto plow on its majestic way and pass unhurt the porpoises.