The Complete Writings, vol 4 | Page 3

Charles Dudley Warner
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This etext was prepared by David Widger, [email protected] This
etext was prepared by David Widger

The Complete Writings of Charles Dudley Warner Volume 4

CONTENTS:
BEING A BOY ON HORSEBACK

BEING A BOY
One of the best things in the world to be is a boy; it requires no
experience, though it needs some practice to be a good one. The
disadvantage of the position is that it does not last long enough; it is
soon over; just as you get used to being a boy, you have to be
something else, with a good deal more work to do and not half so much
fun. And yet every boy is anxious to be a man, and is very uneasy with
the restrictions that are put upon him as a boy. Good fun as it is to yoke
up the calves and play work, there is not a boy on a farm but would
rather drive a yoke of oxen at real work. What a glorious feeling it is,
indeed, when a boy is for the first time given the long whip and
permitted to drive the oxen, walking by their side, swinging the long
lash, and shouting "Gee, Buck!" " Haw, Golden!" "Whoa, Bright!" and
all the rest of that remarkable language, until he is red in the face, and
all the neighbors for half a mile are aware that something unusual is
going on. If I were a boy, I am not sure but I would rather drive the
oxen than have a birthday. The proudest day of my life was one day
when I rode on the neap of the cart, and drove the oxen, all alone, with
a load of apples to the cider-mill. I was so little that it was a wonder
that I did n't fall off, and get under the broad wheels. Nothing could
make a boy, who cared anything for his appearance, feel flatter than to
be run over by the broad tire of a cart-wheel. But I never heard of one

who was, and I don't believe one ever will be. As I said, it was a great
day for me, but I don't remember that the oxen cared much about it.
They sagged along in their great clumsy way, switching their tails in
my face occasionally, and now and then giving a lurch to this or that
side of the road, attracted by a choice tuft of grass. And then I "came
the Julius Caesar" over them, if you will allow me to use such a slang
expression, a liberty I never should permit you.
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