The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce, Volume 08: Negligible Tales, On With the Dance, EpigramsBierce, Ambrose
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The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce, Volume 08: Negligible Tales, On With the Dance, Epigrams
Bierce, Ambrose
American literature
It had been my custom to throw the babes into the river which nature had
thoughtfully provided for the purpose, but that night I did not dare to
leave the oilery for fear of the constable. "After all," I said to
myself, "it cannot greatly matter if I put it into this cauldron. My
father will never know the bones from those of a puppy, and the few
deaths which may result from administering another kind of oil for the
incomparable _ol. can_. are not important in a population which
increases so rapidly." In short, I took the first step in crime and
brought myself untold sorrow by casting the babe into the cauldron.
The next day, somewhat to my surprise, my father, rubbing his hands with
satisfaction, informed me and my mother that he had obtained the finest
quality of oil that was ever seen; that the physicians to whom he had
shown samples had so pronounced it. He added that he had no knowledge as
to how the result was obtained; the dogs had been treated in all
respects as usual, and were of an ordinary breed. I deemed it my duty to
explain--which I did, though palsied would have been my tongue if I
could have foreseen the consequences. Bewailing their previous ignorance
of the advantages of combining their industries, my parents at once took
measures to repair the error. My mother removed her studio to a wing of
the factory building and my duties in connection with the business
ceased; I was no longer required to dispose of the bodies of the small
superfluous, and there was no need of alluring dogs to their doom, for
my father discarded them altogether, though they still had an honorable
place in the name of the oil. So suddenly thrown into idleness, I might
naturally have been expected to become vicious and dissolute, but I did
not. The holy influence of my dear mother was ever about me to protect
me from the temptations which beset youth, and my father was a deacon in
a church. Alas, that through my fault these estimable persons should
have come to so bad an end!
Finding a double profit in her business, my mother now devoted herself
to it with a new assiduity. She removed not only superfluous and
unwelcome babes to order, but went out into the highways and byways,
gathering in children of a larger growth, and even such adults as she
could entice to the oilery. My father, too, enamored of the superior
quality of oil produced, purveyed for his vats with diligence and zeal.
The conversion of their neighbors into dog-oil became, in short, the one
passion of their lives--an absorbing and overwhelming greed took
possession of their souls and served them in place of a hope in
Heaven--by which, also, they were inspired.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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