A TRAMP ABROAD By Mark Twain

he finds that in sober truth he is a most ridiculous mixture;

and if he ends by trying to comfort himself with the

thought that he can at least depend on a third of this

mess as being manly and masculine, the humiliating second

thought will quickly remind him that in this respect

he is no better off than any woman or cow in the land.

In the German it is true that by some oversight of the inventor

of the language, a Woman is a female; but a Wife (Weib)

is not–which is unfortunate. A Wife, here, has no sex;

she is neuter; so, according to the grammar, a fish

is HE, his scales are SHE, but a fishwife is neither.

To describe a wife as sexless may be called under-description;

that is bad enough, but over-description is surely worse.

A German speaks of an Englishman as the ENGLA”NDER; to change

the sex, he adds INN, and that stands for Englishwoman–

ENGLA”NDERINN. That seems descriptive enough, but still

it is not exact enough for a German; so he precedes the

word with that article which indicates that the creature

to follow is feminine, and writes it down thus: “die

Engla”nderinn,”–which means “the she-Englishwoman.”

I consider that that person is over-described.

Well, after the student has learned the sex of a great

number of nouns, he is still in a difficulty, because he

finds it impossible to persuade his tongue to refer

to things as “he” and “she,” and “him” and “her,” which

it has been always accustomed to refer to it as “it.”

When he even frames a German sentence in his mind,

with the hims and hers in the right places, and then works

up his courage to the utterance-point, it is no use–

the moment he begins to speak his tongue files the track

and all those labored males and females come out as “its.”

And even when he is reading German to himself, he always

calls those things “it,” where as he ought to read in this way:

TALE OF THE FISHWIFE AND ITS SAD FATE [2]

2. I capitalize the nouns, in the German (and

ancient English) fashion.

It is a bleak Day. Hear the Rain, how he pours, and the Hail,

how he rattles; and see the Snow, how he drifts along,

and of the Mud, how deep he is! Ah the poor Fishwife,

it is stuck fast in the Mire; it has dropped its Basket

of Fishes; and its Hands have been cut by the Scales

as it seized some of the falling Creatures; and one Scale

has even got into its Eye. and it cannot get her out.

It opens its Mouth to cry for Help; but if any Sound comes

out of him, alas he is drowned by the raging of the Storm.

And now a Tomcat has got one of the Fishes and she

will surely escape with him. No, she bites off a Fin,

she holds her in her Mouth–will she swallow her? No,

the Fishwife’s brave Mother-dog deserts his Puppies and

rescues the Fin–which he eats, himself, as his Reward.

O, horror, the Lightning has struck the Fish-basket;

he sets him on Fire; see the Flame, how she licks the

doomed Utensil with her red and angry Tongue; now she

attacks the helpless Fishwife’s Foot–she burns him up,

all but the big Toe, and even SHE is partly consumed;

and still she spreads, still she waves her fiery Tongues;

she attacks the Fishwife’s Leg and destroys IT; she attacks

its Hand and destroys HER also; she attacks the Fishwife’s Leg

and destroys HER also; she attacks its Body and consumes HIM;

she wreathes herself about its Heart and IT is consumed;

next about its Breast, and in a Moment SHE is a Cinder;

now she reaches its Neck–He goes; now its Chin–

IT goes; now its Nose–SHE goes. In another Moment,

except Help come, the Fishwife will be no more.

Time presses–is there none to succor and save? Yes! Joy,

joy, with flying Feet the she-Englishwoman comes! But alas,

the generous she-Female is too late: where now is

the fated Fishwife? It has ceased from its Sufferings,

it has gone to a better Land; all that is left of it