And the way his sonorous snoring and broken yawn ending with a yelp with which he some times cuts short the story of a tiresome visitor, makes me think of the ingenuously sincere yawn in which a child gives vent to his ennui in some stupid conversation in the parlour, causing everybody to slyly laugh, just because he expresses their common sentiments, with a frankness forbidden to the well-bred by "The Galateo."[1][2]
And those ears! Those two big ears that now stand up like the flaring mouth of a trumpet, and now fall down like leaves of lettuce, faded and drooping. Now he opens up one ear from
- ↑ The Laws of Etiquette. All the people of quality in Italy learn good manners from "The Galateo." Editor.
- ↑ Many, many years ago, growing through a lonely childhood among mature people, how often have I wearied nervously, to the point of distress, under the strain of "some stupid conversation in a parlour",—like your child, over the page! I was too timid and too bound in rules to yawn, so had no relief except wandering thoughts. That was one way to cripple the child's power of concentration; or so it seems to me.
Mary Day Lanier.
March 27th, 1916.
In the sympathetic little gem which Mrs. Lanier has kindly written, she makes a point that De Amicis does not reach,—an educational point,—the crippling of the child's mind by depriving him of the power of concentration.
From that delicate well-mannered yawn of former days there has developed a modern yawn which carries a little apology, "Excuse me!" with it, often accompanied by a patting of the lips by the finger that displays a ring. In fact the yawn has become a study in philosophy.
