Martin Eden by Jack London

whole lot of life, an’ somehow I’ve seen a whole lot more of it

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than most of them that was with me. I like to see, an’ I want to

see more, an’ I want to see it different.

“But I ain’t got to the point yet. Here it is. I want to make my

way to the kind of life you have in this house. There’s more in

life than booze, an’ hard work, an’ knockin’ about. Now, how am I

goin’ to get it? Where do I take hold an’ begin? I’m willin’ to

work my passage, you know, an’ I can make most men sick when it

comes to hard work. Once I get started, I’ll work night an’ day.

Mebbe you think it’s funny, me askin’ you about all this. I know

you’re the last person in the world I ought to ask, but I don’t

know anybody else I could ask – unless it’s Arthur. Mebbe I ought

to ask him. If I was – ”

His voice died away. His firmly planned intention had come to a

halt on the verge of the horrible probability that he should have

asked Arthur and that he had made a fool of himself. Ruth did not

speak immediately. She was too absorbed in striving to reconcile

the stumbling, uncouth speech and its simplicity of thought with

what she saw in his face. She had never looked in eyes that

expressed greater power. Here was a man who could do anything, was

the message she read there, and it accorded ill with the weakness

of his spoken thought. And for that matter so complex and quick

was her own mind that she did not have a just appreciation of

simplicity. And yet she had caught an impression of power in the

very groping of this mind. It had seemed to her like a giant

writhing and straining at the bonds that held him down. Her face

was all sympathy when she did speak.

“What you need, you realize yourself, and it is education. You

should go back and finish grammar school, and then go through to

high school and university.”

“But that takes money,” he interrupted.

“Oh!” she cried. “I had not thought of that. But then you have

relatives, somebody who could assist you?”

He shook his head.

“My father and mother are dead. I’ve two sisters, one married, an’

the other’ll get married soon, I suppose. Then I’ve a string of

brothers, – I’m the youngest, – but they never helped nobody.

They’ve just knocked around over the world, lookin’ out for number

one. The oldest died in India. Two are in South Africa now, an’

another’s on a whaling voyage, an’ one’s travellin’ with a circus –

he does trapeze work. An’ I guess I’m just like them. I’ve taken

care of myself since I was eleven – that’s when my mother died.

I’ve got to study by myself, I guess, an’ what I want to know is

where to begin.”

“I should say the first thing of all would be to get a grammar.

Your grammar is – ” She had intended saying “awful,” but she

amended it to “is not particularly good.”

He flushed and sweated.

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“I know I must talk a lot of slang an’ words you don’t understand.

But then they’re the only words I know – how to speak. I’ve got

other words in my mind, picked ’em up from books, but I can’t

pronounce ’em, so I don’t use ’em.”

“It isn’t what you say, so much as how you say it. You don’t mind

my being frank, do you? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, no,” he cried, while he secretly blessed her for her kindness.

“Fire away. I’ve got to know, an’ I’d sooner know from you than

anybody else.”

“Well, then, you say, ‘You was’; it should be, ‘You were.’ You say

‘I seen’ for ‘I saw.’ You use the double negative – ”

“What’s the double negative?” he demanded; then added humbly, “You

see, I don’t even understand your explanations.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t explain that,” she smiled. “A double negative

is – let me see – well, you say, ‘never helped nobody.’ ‘Never’ is

a negative. ‘Nobody’ is another negative. It is a rule that two

negatives make a positive. ‘Never helped nobody’ means that, not

helping nobody, they must have helped somebody.”

“That’s pretty clear,” he said. “I never thought of it before.

But it don’t mean they MUST have helped somebody, does it? Seems

to me that ‘never helped nobody’ just naturally fails to say

whether or not they helped somebody. I never thought of it before,

and I’ll never say it again.”

She was pleased and surprised with the quickness and surety of his

mind. As soon as he had got the clew he not only understood but

corrected her error.

“You’ll find it all in the grammar,” she went on. “There’s

something else I noticed in your speech. You say ‘don’t’ when you

shouldn’t. ‘Don’t’ is a contraction and stands for two words. Do

you know them?”

He thought a moment, then answered, “‘Do not.'”

She nodded her head, and said, “And you use ‘don’t’ when you mean

‘does not.'”

He was puzzled over this, and did not get it so quickly.

“Give me an illustration,” he asked.

“Well – ” She puckered her brows and pursed up her mouth as she

thought, while he looked on and decided that her expression was

most adorable. “‘It don’t do to be hasty.’ Change ‘don’t’ to ‘do

not,’ and it reads, ‘It do not do to be hasty,’ which is perfectly

absurd.”

He turned it over in his mind and considered.

“Doesn’t it jar on your ear?” she suggested.

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“Can’t say that it does,” he replied judicially.

“Why didn’t you say, ‘Can’t say that it do’?” she queried.

“That sounds wrong,” he said slowly. “As for the other I can’t

make up my mind. I guess my ear ain’t had the trainin’ yours has.”

“There is no such word as ‘ain’t,'” she said, prettily emphatic.

Martin flushed again.

“And you say ‘ben’ for ‘been,'” she continued; “‘come’ for ‘came’;

and the way you chop your endings is something dreadful.”

“How do you mean?” He leaned forward, feeling that he ought to get

down on his knees before so marvellous a mind. “How do I chop?”

“You don’t complete the endings. ‘A-n-d’ spells ‘and.’ You

pronounce it ‘an’.’ ‘I-n-g’ spells ‘ing.’ Sometimes you pronounce

it ‘ing’ and sometimes you leave off the ‘g.’ And then you slur by

dropping initial letters and diphthongs. ‘T-h-e-m’ spells ‘them.’

You pronounce it – oh, well, it is not necessary to go over all of

them. What you need is the grammar. I’ll get one and show you how

to begin.”

As she arose, there shot through his mind something that he had

read in the etiquette books, and he stood up awkwardly, worrying as

to whether he was doing the right thing, and fearing that she might

take it as a sign that he was about to go.

“By the way, Mr. Eden,” she called back, as she was leaving the

room. “What is BOOZE? You used it several times, you know.”

“Oh, booze,” he laughed. “It’s slang. It means whiskey an’ beer –

anything that will make you drunk.”

“And another thing,” she laughed back. “Don’t use ‘you’ when you

are impersonal. ‘You’ is very personal, and your use of it just

now was not precisely what you meant.”

“I don’t just see that.”

“Why, you said just now, to me, ‘whiskey and beer – anything that

will make you drunk’ – make me drunk, don’t you see?”

“Well, it would, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, of course,” she smiled. “But it would be nicer not to bring

me into it. Substitute ‘one’ for ‘you’ and see how much better it

sounds.”

When she returned with the grammar, she drew a chair near his – he

wondered if he should have helped her with the chair – and sat down

beside him. She turned the pages of the grammar, and their heads

were inclined toward each other. He could hardly follow her

outlining of the work he must do, so amazed was he by her

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delightful propinquity. But when she began to lay down the

importance of conjugation, he forgot all about her. He had never

heard of conjugation, and was fascinated by the glimpse he was

catching into the tie-ribs of language. He leaned closer to the

page, and her hair touched his cheek. He had fainted but once in

his life, and he thought he was going to faint again. He could

scarcely breathe, and his heart was pounding the blood up into his

throat and suffocating him. Never had she seemed so accessible as

now. For the moment the great gulf that separated them was

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