P. G. Wodehouse - "The Man With Two Left Feet"

E. Phillips Oppenheim - "The Box with Broken Seals"

Various - "Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104, January 28, 1893"

William Shakespeare (Apocrypha) - "A Yorkshire Tragedy"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

The History of a Mouthful of Bread

J >> Jean Mace >> The History of a Mouthful of Bread




Have you noticed that when you want to take hold of anything (a piece
of bread, we will say, as we are on the subject of eating), have you
noticed that it is always the thumb who puts himself forward, and that
he is always on one side by himself, whilst the rest of the fingers
are on the other? If the thumb is not helping, nothing remains in your
hand, and you don't know what to do with it. Try, by way of experiment,
to carry your spoon to your mouth without putting your thumb to it,
and you will see what a long time it will take you to get through a
poor little plateful of broth. The thumb is placed in such a manner
on your hand that it can face each of the other fingers one after
another, or all together, as you please; and by this we are enabled
to grasp, as if with a pair of pincers, whatever object, whether large
or small. Our hands owe their perfection of usefulness to this happy
arrangement, which has been bestowed on no other animal, except the
monkey, our nearest neighbor.

I may even add, while we are about it, that it is this which
distinguishes the hand from a paw or a foot. Our feet, which have other
things to do than to pick up apples or lay hold of a fork, our feet
have also each five fingers, but the largest cannot face the others;
it is not a thumb, therefore, and it is because of this that our feet
are not hands. Now the monkey has thumbs on the four members
corresponding to our arms and legs, and thus we may say that he has
hands at the end of his legs as well as of his arms. Nevertheless, he
is not on that account better off than we are, but quite the contrary.
I will explain this to you presently.

To return to our subject. You see that it was necessary, before saying
anything about the mouth, to consider the hand, which is the mouth's
purveyor. Before the cook lights the fires the maid must go to market,
must she not? And it is a very valuable maid that we have here: what
would become of us without her?

If we were in the habit of giving thought to everything, we should
never even gather a nut without being grateful to the Providence which
has provided us with the thumb, by means of which we are able to do
it so easily.

But however well I may have expressed it, I am by no means sure, after
all, that I have succeeded in showing you clearly, how absolutely
necessary our hand is to us in eating, and why it has the honor to
stand at the beginning of the history of what we eat.

It still appears to you, I suspect, that even if you were to lose the
use of your hands you would not, for all that, let yourself die of
hunger.

This is because you have not attended to another circumstance, which
nevertheless demands your notice--namely, that from one end of the
world to the other, quantities of hands are being employed in providing
you with the wherewithal to eat.

To go on further: Have you any idea how many hands have been put in
motion merely to enable you to have your coffee and roll in the morning?
What a number, to be sure, over this cup of coffee (which is a trifle
in comparison with the other food you will consume in the course of
the day); from the hand of the negro who gathered the coffee crop to
that of the cook who ground the berries, to say nothing of the hand
of the sailor who guided the ship which bore them to our shores. Again,
from the hand of the laborer who sowed the corn, and that of the miller
who ground it into flour, to the hand of the baker who made it into
a roll. Then the hand of the farmer's wife who milked the cow, and the
hand of the refiner who made the sugar; to say nothing of the many
others who prepared his work for him, and I know not how many more.

How would it be, then, if I were to amuse myself by counting up all
the hands that are wanted to furnish--

The sugar-refiner's manufactory,
The milkmaid's shed,
The baker's oven,
The miller's mill,
The laborer's plough,
The sailor's ship?

And even now is there nothing we have forgotten? Ah, yes! the most
important of all the hands to you;--the hand which brings together
for your benefit the fruits of the labor of all the others--the hand
of your dear mother, always active, always ready, that hand which so
often acts as yours when your own is awkward or idle.

Now, then, you see how you might really manage to do without those two
comparatively helpless little paws of yours (although there is a thumb
to each), without suffering too much for want of food. With such an
army of hands at work, in every way, to furnish provision for that
little mouth, there would not be much danger.


But cut off your cat's fore paws--oh dear! what am I saying? Suppose,
rather, that she has not got any, and then count how many mice she
will catch in a day. The milk you give her is another matter, remember.
Like your cup of coffee, that is provided for her by others.

Believe me, if you were suddenly left all alone in a wood, like those
pretty squirrels who nibble hazel-nuts so daintily, you would soon
discover, from being thus thrown upon your own resources, that the
mouth is not the only thing required for eating, and that whether it
be a paw or a hand, there must always be a servant to go to market for
Mr. Mouth, and to provide him with food.

Happily, we are not driven to this extremity. We take hold of our
coffee-biscuit between the thumb and forefinger, and behold it is on
its road--Open the mouth, and it is soon done!

But before we begin to chew, let us stop to consider a little.

The mouth is the door at which everything enters. Now, to every
well-kept door there is a doorkeeper, or porter. And what is the office
of a well-instructed porter? Well, he asks the people that present
themselves, who they are, and what they have come for; and if he does
not like their appearance, he refuses them admittance. We too, then,
to be complete, need a porter of this sort in our mouths, and I am
happy to say we have one accordingly. I wonder whether you know him?
You look at me quite aghast! Oh, ungrateful child, not to know your
dearest friend! As a punishment, I shall not tell you who he is to-day.
I will give you till to-morrow to think about it.

Meanwhile, as I have a little time left, I will say one word more about
what we are going to look at together. It would hardly be worth while
to tell you this pretty story which we have begun, if from time to
time we were not to extract a moral from it. And what is the moral of
our history to-day?

It has more than one.

In the first place it teaches you, if you never knew it before, that
you are under great obligations to other people, indeed to almost
everybody, and most of all perhaps to people whom you may be tempted
to look down upon. This laborer, with his coarse smock-frock and heavy
shoes, whom you are so ready to ridicule, is the very person who, with
his rough hand, has been the means of procuring for you half the good
things you eat. That workman, with turned-up sleeves, whose dirty black
fingers you are afraid of touching, has very likely blackened and
dirtied them in your service. You owe great respect to all these people,
I assure you, for they all work for you. Do not, then, go and fancy
yourself of great consequence among them--you who are of no use in any
way at present, who want everybody's help yourself, but as yet can
help nobody.

Not that I mean to reproach you by saying this. Your turn has not come
yet, and everybody began like you originally. But I do wish to impress
upon you that you must prepare yourself to become some day useful to
others, so that you may pay back the debts which you are now
contracting.

Every time you look at your little hand, remember that you have its
education to accomplish, its debts of honor to repay, and that you
must make haste and teach it to be very clever, so that it may no
longer be said of you, that you are of no use to anybody.

And then, my dear child, remember that a day will come, when the revered
hands that now take care of your childhood--those hands which to-day
are yours, as it were--will become weak and incapacitated by age. You
will be strong, then, probably, and the assistance which you receive
now, you must then render to her, render it to her as you have received
it--that is to say, with your hands. It is the mother's hand which
comes and goes without ceasing about her little girl now. It is the
daughter's hand which should come and go around the old mother
hereafter--her hand and not another's.

Here again, my child, the mouth is nothing without the hand. The mouth
says, "I love," the hand proves it.



LETTER III.

THE TONGUE.

Now, about this doorkeeper, or porter, as we will call him, of the
mouth. I do not suppose you have guessed who he is; so I am going to
tell you.

The porter who keeps the door of the mouth is _the sense of taste_.

It is he who does the honors of the house so agreeably to proper
visitors, and gives such an unscrupulous dismissal to unpleasant
intruders. In other words, it is by his directions that we welcome so
affectionately with tongue and lips whatever is good to eat, and spit
out unhesitatingly whatever is unpleasant.

I could speak very ill of this porter if I chose; which would not be
very pleasant for certain little gourmands that I see here, who think
a good deal too much of him. But I would rather begin by praising him.
I can make my exceptions afterwards.

In the history I am going to give you, my dear child, there is one
thing you must never lose sight of, even when I do not allude to it;
and that is, that everything we shall examine into, has been expressly
arranged by God for the good and accommodation of our being in this
world; just as a cradle is arranged by a mother for the comfort of her
baby. We must look upon all these things, therefore, as so many
presentsfrom the Almighty himself; and abstain from speaking ill of
them, were it only out of respect for the hand which has bestowed them.

Moreover, there is a very easy plan by which we may satisfy ourselves
of the usefulness and propriety of these gifts--namely, by considering
what would become of us if we were deprived of any one of them.

Suppose, for instance, that you were totally deficient in the sense
of taste, and that when you put a piece of cake into your mouth, it
should create no more sensation in you than when you held it in your
hand?

You would not have thought of imagining such a case yourself, I am
aware; for it never comes into a child's head to think that things can
be otherwise than as God has made them. And in that respect children
are sometimes wiser than philosophers. Nevertheless, we will suppose
this for once, and consider what would happen in consequence.

Well, in the first place, you would eat old mouldy cake with just the
same relish as if it were fresh; and this mouldy cake, which now you
carefully avoid because it is mouldy, is very unwholesome food, and
would poison you were you to eat a great deal of it.

I give this merely as an instance, but it is one of a thousand. And
although, with regard to eatables, you only know such as have been
prepared either in shops or in your mamma's kitchen, still you must
be aware there are many we ought to avoid, because they would do no
good in our stomachs, and that we should often be puzzled to distinguish
these from others, if the sense of taste did not warn us about them.
You must admit, therefore, that such warnings are not without their
value.

In short, it is a marvellous fact that what is unfit for food, is
_almost always_ to be recognized as it enters the mouth, by its
disagreeable taste; a further proof that God has thought of everything.
Medicines, it is true, are unpleasant to the taste, and yet have to
be swallowed in certain cases. But we may compare them to
chimney-sweepers, who are neither pretty to look at, nor invited into
the drawing-room; but who, nevertheless, are from time to time let
into the grandest houses by the porters--though possibly with a
grimace--because their services are wanted. And in the same way
medicines have to be admitted sometimes--despite their
unpleasantness--because they, too, have to work in the chimney. Taste
does not deceive you about them, however; they are not intended to
serve as food. If any one should try to breakfast, dine, and sup upon
physic he would soon find this out.

Besides, I only said _almost_ always, in speaking of unwholesome
food making itself known to us by its nasty taste; for it is an
unfortunate truth that men have invented a thousand plans for baffling
their natural guardian, and for bringing thieves secretly into the
company of honest people. They sometimes put poison, for instance,
into sugar--as is too often done in the case of those horrible green
and blue sugar plums, against which I have an old grudge, for they
poisoned a friend whom I loved dearly in my youth. Such things as these
pass imprudently by the porter, who sees nothing of their real
character--Mr. Sugar concealing the rogues behind him.

Moreover, we are sometimes so foolish as not to leave the porter time
to make his examination. We swallow one thing after another greedily,
without tasting; and such a crowd of arrivals, coming in with a rush,
"forces the sentry," as they say; and whose fault is it, if, after
this, we find thieves established in the house?

But animals have more sense than we have.

Look at your kitten when you give her some tit-bit she is not acquainted
with--how cautiously and gently she puts out her nose, so as to give
herself time for consideration. Then how delicately she touches the
unknown object with the tip of her tongue, once, twice, and perhaps
three times. And when the tip of the tongue has thus gone forward
several times to make observations (for this is the great post of
observation for the cat's porter as well as for ours), she ventures
to decide upon swallowing, but not before. If she has the least
suspicion, no amount of coaxing makes any difference to her; you may
call "puss, puss," for ever; all your tender invitations are useless,
and she turns away.

Very good; here then is one little animal, at least, who understands
for what end she has received the sense of taste, and who makes a
reasonable use of it. Very different from some children of my
acquaintance, who heedlessly stuff into their mouths whatever comes
into their hands, without even taking the trouble to taste it, and who
would escape a good many stomach-aches, if nothing else, if they were
as sensible as Pussy.

This is the really useful side of _the sense of taste_; but its
agreeable side, which is sufficiently well known to you, is not to be
despised either, even on the grounds of utility.

You must know, between ourselves, that eating would be a very tiresome
business if we did not taste what we are eating; and I can well imagine
what trouble mammas would have in persuading their children to come
to dinner or tea, if it were only a question of working their little
jaws, and nothing further. What struggles--what tears! And setting
aside children, who are by no means always the most disobedient to the
will of a good GOD, how few men would care to stop in the midst of
their occupations, to go and grind their teeth one against another for
half-an-hour, if there were not some pleasure attached to an exercise
not naturally amusing in itself? Ay, ay, my dear child, were it not
for the reward in pleasure which is given to men when they eat, the
human race, who as a whole do not live too well already, would live
still worse. And it is necessary that we should be fed, and well fed
too, if we would perform properly here below the mission which we have
received from above.

Yes, "reward" was the word I used. Now it seems absurd to you, perhaps,
that it should be necessary to reward a man for eating a good dinner?
Well, well, GOD has been more kind to him, then, than you would be.
To every duty imposed by Him upon man, He has joined a pleasure as a
reward for fulfilling it. How many things should I not have to say to
you on this subject, if you were older? For the present, I will content
myself with making a comparison.

When a mother thinks her child is not reasonable enough to do, of her
own accord, something which it is nevertheless important she should
do, as learning to read, for instance, or to work with her needle,
&c., she comes to the rescue with rewards, and gives her a plaything
when she has done well. And thus GOD, who had not confidence enough
in man's reason to trust to it alone for supplying the wants of human
nature, has placed a plaything in the shape of pleasure after every
necessity; and in supplying the want, man finds the reward.

You will hardly believe that what I have here explained to you so
quietly by a childish comparison, has been, and alas! still is, the
subject of terrible disputes among grown-up people. If hereafter they
reach your ears, remember what I have told you now, viz., that the
pleasure lodged in the tongue and its surroundings, is a plaything,
but a plaything given to us by GOD; and that we must use it accordingly.

If a little girl has had a plaything given to her by her mother, would
she think to please her by breaking it or throwing it into a corner?
No, certainly not: she would know that in so doing she would be going
directly against her mother's intentions and wishes. Nevertheless she
would amuse herself with it in play hours, with an easy conscience,
and, if she is amiable, she will remember while she does so, that it
comes to her from her mother, and will thank her at the bottom of her
heart.

It is the same with man, of whose playthings we are speaking.

But, moreover, this little girl (it is taken for granted that she is
a good little girl) will not make the plaything the business of her
whole day, the object of all her thoughts; she will not forget
everything for it, she will leave it unhesitatingly when her mamma
calls her. Neither will she wish to be alone in her enjoyments, but
will gladly see her little friends also enjoy similar playthings,
because she thinks that what is good for her must be good for others
too.

It is thus that man should do with his playthings; but, alas! this is
what he does not by any means always do with them, and hence a great
deal has been said against them. Little girls, in particular, are apt
to fail on this point, and that is how the dreadful word _gluttony_
came to be invented. For the same reason, also, people get punished
from time to time; such punishments being the consequence of the misuse
I speak of.

If people who call to see your mamma were, instead of going straight
up stairs to her, to establish themselves at the lodge with the porter,
and stay there chatting with him, do you think she would be much
flattered by their visits? And yet this is exactly what people do who,
when eating, attend only to the porter. He is so pleasant, this porter;
he says such pretty things to you, that you go on talking to him just
as if he were the master of the house, who, meanwhile, has quite gone
out of your head.

You heap sugar-plums upon sugar-plums, cakes upon cakes, sweetmeats
upon sweetmeats--everything that pleases the porter, but is of no use
whatever to the master of the house. And then what happens? The master
gets angry sometimes, and no wonder. Mr. Stomach grows weary of these
visits, which are of no use to him. He rings all the bells, makes no
end of a noise in the house, and forces that traitor of a porter who
has engrossed all his company, to do penance. You are ill--your mouth
is out of order--you have no appetite for anything. The mamma has taken
away the plaything which has been misused, and when she gives it back,
there must be great care taken not to do the same thing over again.

I have thought it only right, my dear child, in telling you the history
of eating, to give to this little detail of its beginning, a place
proportioned to your interest in it. You see by what I have said, that
you are not altogether wrong in following your taste; but neither must
it be forgotten that this part of the business is not in reality the
most important; that a plaything is but a plaything, and that the
porter is not the master of the house.

Now that we have made our good friend's acquaintance, we will wish him
farewell, and I will presently introduce you to his companions of the
antechamber, who are ranged on the two sides of the door, to make the
toilettes for the visitors who present themselves, and to put them in
order for being received in the drawing-room. You will see there some
jolly little fellows, who are also very useful in their way, and whose
history is no less curious. They are called TEETH.



LETTER IV.

THE TEETH.

When you were quite little, my dear child, and still a nursling, you
had nothing behind your lips but two little rosy bars, which were of
no service for gnawing an apple, as they were not supplied with teeth.
You had no need of these then, since nothing but milk passed your lips,
neither had your nurse bargained for your having teeth to bite with.
You see that God provides for everything, as I have already said, and
shall often have occasion to point out to you.

But by degrees the little infant grew into a great girl, and it became
necessary to think of giving her something more solid than milk to
eat; and for this purpose she required teeth. Then some little germs,
which had lain dormant, concealed within the jaws, awoke one after
another, like faithful workmen when they hear the striking of the
clock. Each set to work in his little cell, and with the help of some
phosphorus and some lime, it began to make itself a kind of white
armour, as hard as a stone, which grew larger from day to day.

You know what lime is; that sort of white pulp which you have seen
standing in large troughs where the masons are building houses, andwhich
they use in making mortar; it is with this that your little
masons build your teeth.

As to phosphorus, I am afraid you may never have seen any; but you may
have heard it spoken of. It is sold at the druggist's in the form of
little white sticks, about as thick as your finger; they have a
disagreeable, garlicky smell, and are obliged to be kept in jars of
water, because they seize every opportunity of taking fire; so I advise
you, if ever you do see any phosphorus, not to meddle with it--for in
burning, it sticks closely to the skin, and there is the greatest
difficulty in the world in extinguishing it, and the burns it makes
are fearful. I give you this caution, because phosphorus possesses a
very curious property, which might attract little girls. Wherever it
is rubbed, in the dark, on a door, or on a wall, it leaves a luminous
trail of a very peculiar appearance, which has been called
phosphorescent, from the name of the substance which produces it. And
in this way one can write on walls in letters of fire, to the terror
of cowards. Now, come; if you will promise to be very wise, and only
to make the experiment when your mamma is present, I will teach you
how to make phosphorescent lights without having to go to the
druggist's! There is a small quantity of phosphorus in lucifer matches,
which their garlicky smell proves. Rub them gently in the dark on a
bit of wood, and you will see a ray of light which will shine for some
moments. But mind, you must not play at that game when you are alone;
it is a dangerous amusement, and one hears every day of terrible
accidents caused by disobedient children playing with lucifer matches.
And while we are on the subject, let me warn you against putting them
into your mouth. Phosphorus is a poison, and such a powerful one that
people poison rats with bread-crumb balls in which it has been
introduced.

"Oh dear me! and that poison makes part of our teeth?"

Exactly so, and it even forms part of all our bones, and of the bones
of all animals; the best proof of which is, that the phosphorus of
lucifer matches has been procured out of bones from the slaughter-house.
One could make it from the teeth of little girls if one could get
enough of them.

Now I see what puzzles you, and well it may. You are asking yourself
how those little tooth-makers, the gums, get hold of this terrible
phosphorus, which is set on fire by a mere nothing, and which we dare
not put into our mouths; where do they find the lime which I also
protest is not fit to eat, and yet of which we have stores from our
heads to our feet?

It is very surprising, too, to think of its being forthcoming in the
jaws just when it is wanted there.

You begin to perceive that there are many things to be learnt before
we come to the end of our history, and that we find ourselves checked
at every step; now listen, for we are coming to something very
important.

In distant country-seats, where people are thrown entirely upon their
own resources, they must be provided beforehand with all that is
requisite for repairing the building; and there is, accordingly, a
person called a steward, who keeps everything under lock and key, and
distributes to the workmen whatever materials they may require. Thus,
the steward gives tiles to the slater, planks to the carpenter, colors
to the painter, lime and bricks to the mason--the very same lime that
we have in our teeth--in fact, he has got everything that can be wanted
in his storehouse, and it is to him that every one applies in time of
need.

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