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Stretching Things

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Sep 14, 1911

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 88, No. 37.

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Stretching Things

For Young Folks and Older Folks

“I’m almost dead! It’s as hot as fire, and I’ve been more than a dozen miles after that colt.”
Having relieved himself of this speech, Andrew threw himself full length on the lounge, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
“Where did you have to go?” inquired his father.
“I went over to Briggs’s corner and back by the bridge.”
“That is a little less than a mile and a half. And is it so very warm? It seems quite cool here.”
“No, not so dreadful, I suppose; but I ran like lightning, and got heated up.”
“You started about five o’clock, my son, and now it lacks a quarter of six,” said the father, looking at his watch.
“Yes, sir; just three-quarters of an hour,” said the boy, innocently.
“Does it take lightning forty-five minutes to go a mile and a half?”
“I didn’t mean exactly that, father; but I ran all the way, because I expected the whole town would be here this evening to see my new bicycle,” Andrew explained.
“And whom did you expect, Andy? I had no thought that such a crowd would be here. What will you do with them all? Where could you accommodate them?”
“Jim, Eddy, and Tom told me they’d be around after school, and I think it likely Ike will be along, too.”
“Andy, the population of this town is said to be five thousand; and you expect three of them! As you are almost dead, I’m very glad no more are coming. You couldn’t play with them at all.”
“Sick!” cried Andrew, jumping to his feet; “who says I’m sick?”
“Why, you said you were ‘almost dead;’ doesn’t that mean very sick? When we think one nearly dead, we say, ‘He’s a very sick man.’”
“Why are you so very particular about what I say, father? I don’t mean it all exactly as I speak it, of course. I wasn’t nearly dead, to be sure; but I did some tall running, you bet. There were more than fifty dogs after me; and I don’t go much on dogs.”
“Quite a band of them! Where did they all come from?”
“Why, there was Mr. Wheeler’s sheep-dog, Rush’s store-dog, and two or three others, and they made for me; so I ran just as fast as I could.”
“Two and two or three more are not fifty, Andy, nor at all near fifty. Your arithmetic is sadly at fault.”
“Well, there looked to be fifty, anyway,” was the boy’s rather impatient answer. “Carter’s ten-acre lot seemed full of dogs just making for me; and I guess you’d have thought there were fifty if it had been you.”
“Ten acres of dogs would be a great many—some thousands I suppose. Did you ever estimate how many might be shut in a ten-acre tract?”
Andrew did not like to estimate. He had seen ten thousand sheep at rest, and he didn’t think they covered ten acres. He didn’t want to try what an estimate of ten acres of dogs might give in numbers. His father was silent for a few minutes, then he added:—
“My boy, you’ve had a wonderful experience, and I must tell your friends what great things you have done to get the colt back to its pasture. You ran—like lightning! You were followed by ten acres of dogs who ran to attack you—and this means that there were several thousands of them! You traveled more than a dozen miles to go one and a half, in a straight line. You expected five thousand people here to see your bicycle on your return; and, unhappily, you were nearly dead when you reached home! A memorable experience, most certainly! Be careful that this spirit of exaggeration does not become a fixed habit, and others be led to doubt your veracity.” — Selected.