OIL OF DOG
by Ambrose Bierce
My name is Boffer Bings. I was born of honest parents
in one of the humbler walks of life, my father being
a manufacturer of dog-oil and my mother having a small
studio in the shadow of the village church, where she
disposed of unwelcome babes. In my boyhood I was trained
to habits of industry; I not only assisted my father
in procuring dogs for his vats, but was frequently
employed by my mother to carry away the debris of her
work in the studio. In performance of this duty I
sometimes had need of all my natural intelligence for
all the law officers of the vicinity were opposed to
my mother's business. They were not elected on an
opposition ticket, and the matter had never been made
a political issue; it just happened so. My father's
business of making dog-oil was, naturally, less unpopular,
though the owners of missing dogs sometimes regarded
him with suspicion, which was reflected, to some extent,
upon me. My father had, as silent partners, all the
physicians of the town, who seldom wrote a prescription
which did not contain what they were pleased to designate
as Ol. can. It is really the most valuable medicine
ever discovered. But most persons are unwilling to
make personal sacrifices for the afflicted, and it was
evident that many of the fattest dogs in town had been
forbidden to play with me--a fact which pained my young
sensibilities, and at one time came near driving me to
become a pirate.
Looking back upon those days, I cannot but regret, at
times, that by indirectly bringing my beloved parents
to their death I was the author of misfortunes profoundly
affecting my future.
One evening while passing my father's oil factory with
the body of a foundling from my mother's studio I saw
a constable who seemed to be closely watching my movements.
Young as I was, I had learned that a constable's acts,
of whatever apparent character, are prompted by the most
reprehensible motives, and I avoided him by dodging into
the oilery by a side door which happened to stand ajar.
I locked it at once and was alone with my dead. My father
had retired for the night. The only light in the place
came from the furnace, which glowed a deep, rich crimson
under one of the vats, casting ruddy reflections on the
walls. Within the cauldron the oil still rolled in indolent
ebullition, occasionally pushing to the surface a piece
of dog. Seating myself to wait for the constable to go
away, I held the naked body of the foundling in my lap
and tenderly stroked its short, silken hair. Ah, how
beautiful it was! Even at that early age I was passionately
fond of children, and as I looked upon this cherub I
could almost find it in my heart to wish that the small,
red wound upon its breast--the work of my dear mother--had
not been mortal.
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.
So enterprising had they now become that a public meeting
was held and resolutions passed severely censuring them.
It was intimated by the chairman that any further raids
upon the population would be met in a spirit of hostility.
My poor parents left the meeting broken-hearted, desperate
and, I believe, not altogether sane. Anyhow, I deemed it
prudent not to enter the oilery with them that night, but
slept outside in a stable.
At about midnight some mysterious impulse caused me to
rise and peer through a window into the furnace-room,
where I knew my father now slept. The fires were burning
as brightly as if the following day's harvest had been
expected to be abundant. One of the large cauldrons was
slowly "walloping" with a mysterious appearance of
self-restraint, as if it bided its time to put forth its
full energy. My father was not in bed; he had risen in
his nightclothes and was preparing a noose in a strong
cord. From the looks which he cast at the door of my
mother's bedroom I knew too well the purpose that he
had in mind. Speechless and motionless with terror, I
could do nothing in prevention or warning. Suddenly the
door of my mother's apartment was opened, noiselessly,
and the two confronted each other, both apparently
surprised. The lady, also, was in her nightclothes, and
she held in her right hand the tool of her trade, a long,
narrow-bladed dagger.
She, too, had been unable to deny herself the last profit
which the unfriendly action of the citizens and my
absence had left her. For one instant they looked into
each other's blazing eyes and then sprang together with
indescribable fury. Round and round the room they struggled,
the man cursing, the woman shrieking, both fighting like
demons--she to strike him with the dagger, he to strangle
her with his great bare hands. I know not how long I had
the unhappiness to observe this disagreeable instance of
domestic infelicity, but at last, after a more than usually
vigorous struggle, the combatants suddenly moved apart.
My father's breast and my mother's weapon showed
evidences of contact. For another instant they glared
at each other in the most unamiable way; then my poor,
wounded father, feeling the hand of death upon him,
leaped forward, unmindful of resistance, grasped my
dear mother in his arms, dragged her to the side of
the boiling cauldron, collected all his failing
energies, and sprang in with her! In a moment, both
had disappeared and were adding their oil to that
of the committee of citizens who had called the day
before with an invitation to the public meeting.
Convinced that these unhappy events closed to me every
avenue to an honorable career in that town, I removed to
the famous city of Otumwee, where these memoirs are
written with a heart full of remorse for a heedless act
entailing so dismal a commercial disaster.
~~~~~~~ THE END ~~~~~~~
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