Articles written
by the author
Nine
Wise Words About Letter Writing
1. On
Stamp-Cases
Charles Dodgson
Some American writer has said “the snakes in this district may be divided into one
species--the venomous”. The same principle applies here. Postage-Stamp-Cases
may be divided into one species, the “Wonderland”. Imitations of it will soon
appear, no doubt: but they cannot include the two Pictorial Surprises, which
are copyright.
You don’t see why I call them “Surprises”? Well, take the Case in your
left-hand, and regard it attentively. You see Alice nursing the Duchess’s Baby?
(An entirely new combination, by the way: It doesn’t occur in the book.) Now,
with your right thumb and forefinger, lay hold of the little book, and suddenly
pull it out. The Baby has turned into a Pig! If that doesn’t
surprise you, why, I suppose you wouldn’t be surprised if your own
Mother-in-law suddenly turned into a Gyroscope!
This Case is not intended to carry about in your pocket. Far from it. People seldom want any other Stamps, on an
emergency, than Penny-Stamps for Letters, Sixpenny-Stamps for Telegrams, and a
bit of Stamp-edging for cut fingers (it makes capital sticking-plaster, and
will stand three or four washings, cautiously conducted): and all these are
easily carried in a purse or pocket-book. No, this is meant to haunt
your envelope-case, or wherever you keep your writing-materials. What made me
invent it was the constantly wanting Stamps of other values, for foreign
Letters, Parcel Post, etc., and finding it very bothersome to get at the kind I
wanted in a hurry. Since I have possessed a “Wonderland Stamp-Case”, life has
been bright and peaceful, and I have used no other. I believe the Queen’s laundress
uses no other.
Each of the pockets will hold 6 Stamps, comfortably. I would recommend you
to arrange the 6, before putting them in, something like a bouquet,
making them lean to the right and to the left alternately: thus there will
always be a free corner to get hold of, so as to take them out, quickly
and easily, one by one: otherwise you will find them apt to come out two or
three at a time.
According to my experience, the 5d.,
9d., and 1s. Stamps are hardly ever wanted, though I have
constantly to replenish all the other pockets. If your experience agrees with
mine, you may find it convenient to keep only a couple (say) of each of these 3
kinds, in the 1s. pocket, and to fill the other
2 pockets with extra 1d. stamps.
2. How to Begin a Letter
If the Letter is to be in answer to another, begin by getting out that
other letter and reading it through, in order to refresh your memory, as to
what it is you have to answer, and as to your correspondent’s present
address (otherwise you will be sending your letter to his regular address
in London, though he has been careful in writing to give you his Torquay address in full).
Next, Address and Stamp the Envelope. “What! Before
writing the Letter?” Most certainly. And
I’ll tell you what will happen if you don’t. You will go on writing till the
last moment, and, just in the middle of the last sentence, you will become
aware that “time’s up!” Then comes the hurried wind-up--the wildly-scrawled
signature--the hastily-fastened envelope, which comes open in the post--the
address, a mere hieroglyphic--the horrible discovery that you’ve forgotten to
replenish your Stamp-Case--the frantic appeal, to every one in the house, to
lend you a Stamp--the headlong rush to the Post Office, arriving, hot and
gasping, just after the box has closed--and finally, a week afterwards, the
return of the Letter, from the Dead-Letter Office, marked “address illegible”!
Next, put your own address, in full, at the top of the note-sheet.
It is an aggravating thing--I speak from bitter experience--when a friend,
staying at some new address, heads his letter “Dover”, simply, assuming that
you can get the rest of the address from his previous letter, which perhaps you
have destroyed.
Next, put the date in full. It is another aggravating thing, when
you wish, years afterwards, to arrange a series of letters, to find them dated
“Feb. 17”, “Aug. 2”, without any year to guide you as to which comes
first. And never, never, dear Madam (N.B. this remark is addressed to ladies only:
no man would ever do such a thing), put “Wednesday”, simply, as the
date!
“That way madness lies.”
3. How to Go On With a Letter
Here is a golden Rule to begin with. Write legibly. The average
temper of the human race would be perceptibly sweetened, if everybody obeyed
this Rule! A great deal of the bad writing in the world comes simply from
writing too quickly. Of course you reply, “I do it to save time.”
A very good object, no doubt: but what right have you
to do it at your friend’s expense? Isn’t his time as valuable as yours?
Years ago, I used to receive letters from a friend--and very interesting
letters too--written in one of the most atrocious hands ever invented. It
generally took me about a week to read one of his letters. I used to
carry it about in my pocket, and take it out at leisure times, to puzzle over
the riddles which composed it--holding it in different positions, and at
different distances, till at last the meaning of some hopeless scrawl would
flash upon me, when I at once wrote down the English under it; and, when
several had been thus guessed, the context would help with the others, till at
last the whole series of hieroglyphics was deciphered. If all one’s
friends wrote like that, Life would be entirely spent in reading their letters!
This Rule applies, specially, to names of people or places--and most
specially to foreign names. I got a letter
once, containing some Russian names, written in the same hasty scramble in
which people often write “yours sincerely”. The context, of course,
didn’t help in the least: and one spelling was just as likely as another, so
far as I knew: It was necessary to write and tell my friend that I
couldn’t read any of them!
My second Rule is, don’t fill more than a page and a half with
apologies for not having written sooner!
The best subject, to begin with, is your friend’s last letter. Write
with the letter open before you. Answer his questions, and make any remarks his
letter suggests. Then go on to what you want to say yourself. This
arrangement is more courteous, and pleasanter for the
reader, than to fill the letter with your own invaluable remarks, and then
hastily answer your friend’s questions in a postscript. Your friend is much more likey to enjoy your wit, after
his own anxiety for information has been satisfied.
In referring to anything your friend has said in his letter, it is best to quote
the exact words, and not to give a summary of them in your words. A’s impression, of what B has said, expressed
in A’s words, will never convey to B the meaning of his own
words.
This is specially necessary when some point has
arisen as to which the two correspondents do not quite agree. There ought to be
no opening for such writing as “You are quite mistaken in thinking I said
so-and-so. It was not in the least my meaning, &c.,
&c.”, which tends to make a correspondence last for a life-time.
A few more Rules may fitly be given here, for correspondence that has
unfortunately become controversial.
One is, don’t repeat yourself. When once you have said your say,
fully and clearly, on a certain point, and have failed to convince your friend,
drop that subject: to repeat your arguments, all over again, will simply
lead to his doing the same; and so you will go on, like a Circulating Decimal. Did
you ever know a Circulating Decimal come to an end?
Another Rule is, when you have written a letter that you feel may possibly
irritate your friend, however necessary you may have felt it to so express
yourself, put it aside till the next day. Then read it over again, and
fancy it addressed to yourself. This will often lead
to your writing it all over again, taking out a lot of the vinegar and pepper,
and putting in honey instead, and thus making a much more palatable dish
of it! If, when you have done your best to write inoffensively, you still feel
that it will probably lead to further controversy, keep a copy of it.
There is very little use, months afterwards, in pleading “I am almost sure I
never expressed myself as you say: to the best of my recollection I said
so-and-so”. Far better to be able to write “I did not express
myself so: these are the words I used”.
My fifth Rule is, if your friend makes a severe remark, either leave it
unnoticed, or make your reply distinctly less severe: and if he makes a
friendly remark, tending towards “making up” the little difference that has
arisen between you, let your reply be distinctly more
friendly. If, in picking a quarrel, each party declined to go more than three-eighths
of the way, and if, in making friends, each was ready
to go five-eighths of the way--why, there would be more reconciliations
than quarrels! Which is like the Irishman’s remonstrance to his gad-about
daughter--”Shure, you’re always goin’ out! You go out three times, for wanst that you come in!”
My sixth Rule (and my last remark about controversial correspondence) is, don’t
try to have the last word! How many a controversy would be nipped in the
bud, if each was anxious to let the other have the last word! Never mind
how telling a rejoinder you leave unuttered: never mind your friend’s supposing
that you are silent from lack of anything to say: let the thing drop, as soon
as it is possible without discourtesy: remember “speech is silvern,
but silence is golden”! (N.B.--If you are a gentleman, and your friend is a
lady, this Rule is superfluous: you wo’n’t get the
last word!)
My seventh Rule is, if it should ever occur to you to write, jestingly, in dispraise
of your friend, be sure you exaggerate enough to make
the jesting obvious: a word spoken in jest, but taken as earnest,
may lead to very serious consequences. I have known it to lead to the
breaking-off of a friendship. Suppose, for instance, you wish to remind your
friend of a sovereign you have lent him, which he has forgotten to repay--you
might quite mean the words “I mention it, as you seem to have a
conveniently bad memory for debts”, in jest; yet there would be nothing to
wonder at if he took offence at that way of putting it. But, suppose you wrote
“Long observation of your career, as a pickpocket and a burglar, has convinced
me that my one lingering hope, for recovering that sovereign I lent you, is to
say ‘Pay up, or I’ll summons yer!’” he would indeed
be a matter-of-fact friend if he took that as seriously meant!
My eighth Rule. When you say, in your letter, “I enclose cheque for £5,” or “I enclose John’s letter for you to
see”, leave off writing for a moment--go and get the document referred to--and put
it into the envelope. Otherwise, you are pretty certain to find it lying
about, after the Post has gone!
My ninth Rule. When you get to the end of a notesheet,
and find you have more to say, take another piece of paper--a whole sheet, or a
scrap, as the case may demand: but whatever you do, don’t cross!
Remember the old proverb ”Cross-writing
makes cross reading”. “The old proverb?” you say, inquiringly. “How old?” Well, not so very ancient, I must
confess. In fact, I’m afraid I invented it while writing this paragraph! Still,
you know, “old” is a comparative term. I think you would be quite
justified in addressing a chicken, just of of the
shell, as “Old boy!” when compared with another chicken, that was only
half-out!
4. How To
End a Letter
If doubtful whether to end with “yours faithfully”, or “yours truly”, or “your
most truly”, &c. (there are at least a dozen varieties, before you reach
“yours affectionately”), refer to your correspondent’s last letter, and make
your winding-up at least as friendly as his: in fact, even if a shade more
friendly, it will do no harm!
A Postscript is a very useful invention: but it is not meant (as so
many ladies suppose) to contain the real gist of the letter: it serves
rather to throw into the shade any little matter we do not wish to make
a fuss about. For example, your friend had promised to execute a commission for
you in town, but forgot it, thereby putting you to great inconvenience: and he
now writes to apologize for his negligence. It would be cruel, and needlessly
crushing, to make it the main subject of your reply. How much more gracefully
it comes in thus! “P.S. Don’t distress yourself any more about having omitted
that little matter in town. I wo’n’t deny that it did
put my plans out a little, at the time: but it’s all right now. I often forget
things, myself: and ‘those, who live in glass-houses, mustn’t throw stones’,
you know!”
When you take your letters to the Post, carry them in your hand. If
you put them in your pocket you will take a long country-walk (I speak from
experience), passing the Post-Office twice, going and returning, and,
when you get home, will find them still in your pocket.
Let me recommend you to
keep a record of Letters Received and Sent. I have kept one for many years, and
have found it of the greatest possible service, in many ways: it secures my answering
Letters, however long they have to wait; it enables me to refer, for my own
guidance, to the details of previous correspondence, though the actual Letters
may have been destroyed long ago; and, most valuable feature of all, if any
difficulty arises, years afterwards, in connection with a half-forgotten
correspondence, it enables me to say, with confidence, “I did not tell
you that he was ‘an invaluable servant in every way’, and
that you couldn’t ‘trust him too much’. I have a precis
of my letter. What I said was ‘he is a valuable servant in many
ways, but don’t trust him too much. So, if he’s cheated you, you
really must not hold me responsible for it!”
I will now give you a few
simple Rules for making, and keeping a Letter-Register.
Get a blank book,
containing (say) 200 leaves, about 4 inches wide and 7 high. It should be well
fastened into its cover, as it will have to be opened and shut hundreds of
times. Have a line ruled, in red ink, down each margin of every page, an inch
off the edge (the margin should be wide enough to contain a number of 5 digits,
easily: I manage with a 3/4 inch margin: but, unless you write very
small you will find an inch more comfortable).
Write a precis
of each Letter, received or sent, in chronological order. Let the entry of a
“received” Letter reach from the left-hand edge to the right-hand marginal
line; and the entry of a “sent” Letter from the left-hand marginal line to the
right-hand edge. Thus the two kinds will be quite distinct, and you can easily
hunt through the “received” Letters by themselves, without being bothered with
the “sent” Letters; and vice versa.
Use the right-hand
pages only: and, when you come to the end of the book, turn it upside-down, and
begin at the other end, still using right-hand pages. You will find this much
more comfortable than using left-handed pages.
You will find it convenient
to write, at the top of every sheet of a “received” Letter, its Register-Number
in full.
I will now give a few
(ideal) specimen pages of my Letter-Register, and make a few remarks on them:
after which I think you will find it easy enough to manage one for yourself.
29217 | /90. |
--------| | (217) | Ap. 1. (Tu) Jones, Mrs. am || 27518 sendg, | as present from self and Mr. || J., a | white elephant. || 225--------|----------------------------------|| (218) | do. Wilkins & Co. bill, for || 28743 grand | piano, £175 10s. 6d. [pd|| 221, 2--------|----------------------------------|| (219) | do. Scareham, H. [writes from|| “Grand | Hotel, Monte Carlo”] asking | to borr|ow £50 for a few weeks (!) |--------|----------------------------------|----------- ||(220) do. Scareham, H. would | like to || know object, for wh loan is | asked || and security offered. | ||----------------------------------|----------- 218||(221) Ap. 3. Wilkins & Co. || in pre- || vious letter, now before me, || you || undertook to supply one for || £120: 246|| decling to pay more. || ||----------------------------------------------23514 ||(222) do. Cheetham & Sharp. | have
218 || written 221 -- enclosing previo|us let- 228||ter -- is law on my side? | [-------||----------------------------------|----------- (223) || Ap. 4. Manager, Goods Statn, || G. N. || R. White Elephant arrived, ad-||dressed|| to you -- send for it at once -- ||
‘very || savage.’ || 226
-------------------------------------------------------29225 | /90. |
--------| | 217||(225) Ap. 4 (F) Jones, Mrs. th||anks, || but no room for it at present, am|| sendin- 230|| ing it to Zoological Gardens. || |----------------------------------|----------- 223||(226) do. Manager, Goods Sta||tn, G. || N. R. please deliver, to bearer || of this || note, case containing White Ele- ||phant || addressed to me. | ||----------------------------------|----------- ||(227) do. Director Zool. Garde|ens. (en- 223 || closing above note to R. W. Ma|nager) || call for valuable animal, prese|nted to 229|| Gardens |--------|----------------------------------|----------- (228) | Ap. 8. Cheetham & Sharp, you || 222 misquot|e enclosed letter, limit named || is £18|0 || 237--------|----------------------------------|| (229) | Ap. 9. Director, Zoo. Gardens. || 227 case de|livered to us contained 1 doz. || 230 Port-- | consumed at Directors’ Ban- || quet-- | many thanks. |--------|----------------------------------|----------- 225||(230) do. T Jones, Mrs. why | call a ¤|| doz. or Port a ‘White Elephant’? |--------|----------------------------------|----------- (231) | do. T Jones, Mrs. ‘it was a ||¤ joke.’ | ||--------|----------------------------------|-----------29233 | /90. |
--------| | ||(233) Ap. 10 (Th) Page & Co. | orderg || Macauley’s Essays and “Jane | Eyre” 242|| (cheap edtn). |--------|----------------------------------|----------- (234) | do. Aunt Jemina -- invitg for | 2 or 3 | days after the 15th. [ |236--------|----------------------------------|----------- (235) | do. Lon. and West. Bk. have | recevd | £250, pd to yr Acct fm Parkins| & Co. | Calcutta. [en|--------|----------------------------------|----------- 234||(236) do. Aunt Jemina -- can|not || possibly come this month, will | write 239|| when able. | [ 228||(237) Ap. II. Cheetham and | Co. re- 240||turn letter enclosed to you. | [ ×------------------------------------------------------- ||(238) do. Morton, Philip Co|uld you || lend me Browning’s “Dramati|s Per- 245||sonæ” for a day or 2? |--------|----------------------------------|----------- (239) | Ap. 14. Aunt Jemina, leav- ||236 ing hou|se at end of month: address || “136, | Royal Avenue, Bath.” [ ||--------|----------------------------------|| (240) | Ap. 15. Cheetham and Co., ||237 returng| letter as reqd, bill 6/6/8. [ ||244--------|----------------------------------|-----------29242 | /90. |
--------| | (242) | Ap. 15. (Tu) Page & Co. bill ||\ 233 for boo|ks, as ordered, 15/6 [ || |--------|----------------------------------|| > (243) | do. ¶ do. books || | | ||/ 247--------|----------------------------------|----------- 240||(244) do. Cheetham and Co. c|an un- 248||derstand the 6/8 -- what is £6 | for?--------|----------------------------------|----------- (245) | Ap. 17. · Morton, P. “Dra|238 matis | Personæ,” as asked for. [retd|249--------|----------------------------------|----------- 221||(246) do. Wilkins and Co. w|ith 250|| bill, 175/10/6, and ch. for do. | [en ||----------------------------------|----------- 243||(247) do. Page and Co. bill, | 15/6, || postal J 107258 for 15/- and | 6 stps.--------|----------------------------------|----------- (248) | Ap. 18. Cheetham and Co, it ||244 was a | “clerical error” (!) ||--------|----------------------------------|----------- 245||(249) Ap. 19. Morton, P. retu|rng || Browning with many thanks. |--------|----------------------------------|----------- (250) | do. Wilkins and Co. receptd ||246bill. | ||
-------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Notes:
|
I begin each page by putting, at the
top left-hand corner, the next entry-number I am going to use, in full
(the last 3 digits of each entry-number are enough afterwards); and I put the
date of the year, at the top, in the centre.
I begin each entry with the last 3
digits of the entry-number, enclosed in an oval (this is difficult to reproduce
in print, so I have put round-parentheses here). Then, for the first
entry in each page, I put the day of the month and the day of the week:
afterwards, “do.” is enough for the month-day, till it changes: I do not repeat
the week-day.
Next, if the entry is not a
letter, I put a symbol for “parcel” (see Nos. 243, 245) or “telegram” (see Nos.
230, 231) as the case may be.
Next, the name of the person,
underlined (indicated here by italics).
If an entry needs special further
attention, I put [ at the end: and, when it has been attended to, I fill in the
appropriate symbol, e.g., in No. 218, it showed that the bill had to
be paid; in No. 222, that an answer was really needed (the
“x” means “attended to”); in No. 234, that I owed the old lady a visit; in No.
235, that the item had to be entered in my account book; in No. 236, that I
must not forget to write; in No. 239, that the address had to be entered in my
address-book; in No. 245, that the book had to be returned.
I give each entry the space of 2
lines, whether it fills them or not, in order to have room for references. And,
at the foot of each page I leave 2 or 3 lines blank (often userful afterwards for entering omitted Letters) and miss
one or 2 numbers before I begin the next page.
At any odd moments of leisure, I
“make up” the entry-book, in various ways, as follows:
All this looks very complicated,
when stated at full length: but you will find it perfectly simple, when you
have had a little practice, and will come to regard the “making-up” as a
pleasant occupation for a rainy day, or at any time
that you feel disinclined for more severe mental work. In the Game of Whist,
Hoyle gives us one golden Rule, “When in doubt, win the trick”--I find that
Rule admirable in real life: when in doubt what to do, I “make-up” my
Letter-Register!
I have used the following link:
©http://www.hoboes.com/html/FireBlade/Carroll/Words/
How to Learn
by Lewis Carroll
The Rev. Charles Lutwidge
Dodgson (1832-98) wrote under the pseudoym Lewis
Carroll, and is primarily known for Alice in Wonderland and Through
the Looking Glass. Carroll was a mathematician, photographer, inventor of
puzzles and games, and wrote light verse. When he wrote on mathematics and
logic it was not without whimsy, as evidenced by the following introduction to
his book on Symbolic Logic. In any case, this is excellent advice on how to
read any textbook.]
The learner, who wishes to try the question fairly,
whether this little book does, or does not, supply the materials for a most
interesting mental recreation, is earnestly advised to adopt the
following Rules:
If, dear Reader, you will faithfully observe these
Rules, and give my little book a really fair trial, I promise you, most
confidently, that you will find Symbolic Logic to be one of the most, not the
most, fascinating of mental recreations! In this First Part I have carefully avoided
all difficulties which seemed to me to beyond the grasp of an intelligent child
of (say) twelve or fourteen years of age. I have myself taught most of its
contents, viva voce, to many children, and have found them take a real
intelligent interest in the subject. For those, who succeeded in mastering Part
I, and who begin, like Oliver, `asking for more,' I hope to provide, in Part
II, some tolerably hard nuts to crack—nuts that will require all the
nut-crackers they happen to possess!
Mental recreation is a thing that we
all of us need for our mental health. Symbolic Logic will give you clearness of
thought—the ability to see your way through a puzzle—the habit of arranging
your ideas in an orderly and get-at-able form—and, more valuable than all, the power
to detect fallacies, and to tear to pieces the flimsy illogical arguments,
which you will continually encounter in books, in newspapers, in speeches, and
even in sermons, and which so easily delude those who have never taken the
trouble to master this fascinating Art. Try it. That is all I ask of
you!
From The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll,
London, The Nonesuch Press, 1939, pp. 1116-19.
I have used the following link:
©http://www.lhup.edu/~dsimanek/carroll.htm
by Lewis Carroll
Originally published in Mind, No. 4,
1895, pp. 278-280
Achilles had overtaken the Tortoise,
and had seated himself comfortably on its back.
"So you've got to the end of
our race-course?" said the Tortoise. "Even though
it does consist of an infinite series of distances? I thought
some wiseacre or other had proved that the thing couldn't be done?"
"It can be done,"
said Achilles. "It has been done! Solvitur ambulando. You see the distances were constatntly diminishing: and so -"
"But if they had been
constantly increasing?" the Tortoise interrupted. "How then?"
"Then I shouldn't be here,"
Achilles modestly replied; "and you would have got several times
round the world, by this time!"
"You flatter me - flatten,
I mean," said the Tortoise; "for you are a heavy weight, and no
mistake! Well now, would you like to hear of a race-course, that most people
fancy they can get to the end of in two or three steps, while it really
consists of an infinite number of distances, each one longer than the previous
one?"
"Very much indeed!" said
the Grecian warrior, as he drew from his helmet (few warriors possessed pockets
in those days) an enormous note-book and a pencil. "Proceed! And speak slowly,
please! Short-hand isn't invented yet!"
"That beautiful First
Proposition of Euclid!" the Tortoise murmured dreamily. "You admire
Euclid?"
"Passionately! So far, at least, as one can
admire a treatise that won't be published for some centuries to come!"
"Well, now, let's take a little
bit of the argument in that First Proposition - just two steps, and the
conclusion drawn from them. Kindly enter them in your note-book. And, in order
to refer to them conveniently, let's call them A, B, and Z:
(A) Things that
are equal to the same are equal to each other.
(B) The two sides of the
Triangle are things that are equal to the same.
(Z) The two sides of this
Triangle are equal to each other.
"Readers of Euclid will grant,
I suppose, that Z follows logically from A and B, so that
anyone who accepts A and B is true, must
accept Z as true?"
"Undoubtedly! The youngest child in a High School
- as soon as High Schools are invented, which will not be till some two
thousand years later - will grant that."
"And if some reader had not
yet accepted A and B as true, he might still accept the Sequence
as a valid one, I suppose?"
"No doubt such a reader might
exist. He might say 'I accept as true the Hypothetical Proposition that, if A
and B be true, Z must be true; but I don't accept A
and B as true.' Such a reader would do wisely in abandoning Euclid, and
taking to football."
"And might there not also
be some reader who would say 'I accept A and B
as true, but I don't accept the Hypothetical'?"
"Certainly there might. He,
also, had better take to football."
"And neither of these
readers," the Tortoise continued, "is as yet under any logical
necessity to accept Z as true?"
"Quite so," Achilles
assented.
"Well, now, I want you to
consider me as a reader of the second kind, and to force me,
logically, to accept Z as true."
"A tortoise playing football
would be - " Achilles was beginning.
" - an anomaly, of course," the
Tortoise hastily interrupted. "Don't wander from the point. Let's have Z
first, and football afterwards!"
"I'm to force you to accpt Z, am I?" Achilles said musingly.
"And your present position is that you accept A and B, but
you don't accept the Hypothetical -"
"Let's call it C,"
said the Tortoise.
" - but you don't accept:
(C) If A and B
are true, Z must be true."
"That is my present
position," said the Tortoise.
"Then I must ask you to accept C."
"I'll do so," said the
Tortoise, "as soon as you've entered it in that note-book of yours. What
else have you got in it?"
"Only a few memoranda,"
said Achilles, nervoiusly fluttering the leaves:
"a few memoranda of - of the battles in which I have distinguished
myself!"
"Plenty of blank leaves, I
see!" the Tortoise cherily remarked. "We
shall need them all!" (Achilles shuddered.) "Now write as I
dictate:
(A) Things that
are equal to the same are equal to each other.
(B) The two sides of this
triangle are things that are equal to the same.
(C) If A and B are
true, Z must be true.
(Z) The two sides of this
Triangle are equal to each other."
"You should call it D,
not Z," said Achilles. "It comes next to the other
three. If you accept A and B and C, you must accept Z."
"And why must I?"
"Because it
follows logically from them. If A and B
and C are true, Z must be true. You don't dispute that, I
imagine?"
"If A
and B and C are true, Z must be true," the
Tortoise thoughtfully repeated. "That's another Hypothetical, isn't
it? And, if I failed to see its truth, I might accept A and B and
C, and still not accept Z, mightn't I?"
"You might," the candid
hero admitted; "though such obtuseness would certainly be phenominal. Still, the event is possible. So I must
ask you to grant one more Hypothetical."
"Very good. I'm quite willing to grant it, as
soon as you've written it down. We will call it
(D) If A
and B and C are true, Z must be true.
"Have you entred
that in your note-book?"
"I have!" Achilles
joyfully exclaimed, as he ran the pencil into its sheath. "And at last
we've got to the end of this ideal race-course! Now that you accept A
and B and C and D, of course you accept Z."
"Do I?" said the Tortoise
innocently. "Let's make that quite clear. I accept A and B
and C and D. Suppose I still refuse to accept Z?"
"Then Logic would take you by
the throat, and force you to do it!" Achilles triumphantly replied.
"Logic would tell you 'You can't help yourself. Now that you've accepted A
and B and C and D, you must accept Z!"
So you've no choice, you see."
"Whatever Logic is good
enough to tell me is worth writing down," said the Tortoise.
"So enter it in your book, please. We will call it
(E) If A
and B and C and D are true, Z must be true.
"Unitil
I've granted that, of course, I needn't grant Z. So it's quite a necessary
step, you see?"
"I see," said Achilles;
and there was a touch of sadness in his tone.
Here the narrator, having pressing
business at the Bank, was obliged to leave the happy pair, and did not again
pass the spot until some months afterwards. When he did so, Achilles was still
seated on the back of the much-enduring Tortoise, and was writing in his note-book,
which appeared to be nearly full. The Tortoise was saying "Have you got
that last step written down? Unless I've lost count, that makes a thousand and
one. There are several millions more to come. And would you mind - a
personal favor - considering what a lot of instruction this colloquy of ours
will provide for the Logicians of the Nineteenth Century - would you
mind adopting a pun that my cousin the Mock-Turtle will then make, and allowing
yourself to be re-named Taught-Us?"
"As you please!" replied
the weary warrior, in the hollow tones of dispair, as
he buried his face in his hands. "Provided that you, for your
part, will adopt a pun the Mock-Turtle never made, and allow yourself to be
re-named A Kill-Ease!"
I have
used the following link:
©http://www.lewiscarroll.org/achilles.html
Academic year
2008/2009
© a.r.e.a./Dr.Vicente Forés López
© Maria Ciurana Cataluña
ciucama@alumni.uv.es
Universitat de València Press