Title Page
The Author
The Fable of the Preacher Who Flew His Kite, But Not Because He Wished to Do So
The Fable of the Two Mandolin Players and His Willing Performer
The Fable of the Parents Who Tinkered with the Offspring
The Fable of the Man Who Didn't Care for Storybooks
The Fable of the Kid Who Shifted His Ideal
The Fable of How Uncle Brewster was Too Shifty for the Tempter
The Fable of Lutie, the False Alarm, and How She Finished about the Time that She Started
About the Publisher
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George Ade, (born Feb. 9, 1866, Kentland, Ind., U.S.—died May 16, 1944, Brook, Ind.), American playwright and humorist whose Fables in Slang summarized the kind of wisdom accumulated by the country boy in the city.
Graduated from Purdue University, Ade was on the staff of the Chicago Record newspaper from 1890 to 1900. The characters he introduced in his widely acclaimed editorial-page column, “Stories of the Streets and of the Town,” became the subjects of his early books, Artie (1896), Pink Marsh (1897), and Doc Horne (1899). His greatest recognition came with Fables in Slang (1899), a national best-seller that was followed by a weekly syndicated fable and by 11 other books of fables. The fables, which contained only a little slang, were, rather, examples of the vernacular.
In 1902 Ade’s light opera The Sultan of Sulu began a long run in New York, followed by such successful comedies as The County Chairman (1903) and The College Widow (1904). He was recognized as one of the most successful playwrights of his time. He established an estate near Brook, Ind., which became his permanent home. He wrote many motion-picture scripts and, during the Prohibition era, what many called one of his most amusing books, The Old Time Saloon (1931).
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A certain Preacher became wise to the Fact that he was not making a Hit with his Congregation. The Parishioners did not seem inclined to seek him out after Services and tell him he was a Pansy. He suspected that they were Rapping him on the Quiet. The Preacher knew there must be something wrong with his Talk. He had been trying to Expound in a clear and straightforward Manner, omitting Foreign Quotations, setting up for illustration of his Points such Historical Characters as were familiar to his Hearers, putting the stubby Old English words ahead of the Latin, and rather flying low along the Intellectual Plane of the Aggregation that chipped in to pay his Salary. But the Pew-Holders were not tickled. They could Understand everything he said, and they began to think he was Common.
So he studied the Situation and decided that if he wanted to Win them and make everybody believe he was a Nobby and Boss Minister he would have to hand out a little Guff. He fixed it up Good and Plenty.
On the following Sunday Morning he got up in the Lookout and read a Text that didn't mean anything, read from either Direction, and then he sized up his Flock with a Dreamy Eye and said: "We can not more adequately voice the Poetry and Mysticism of our Text than in those familiar Lines of the great Icelandic Poet, Ikon Navrojk:
"To hold is not to have—
Under the seared Firmament,
Where Chaos sweeps, and Vast Futurity
Sneers at these puny Aspirations—
There is the full Reprisal."
When the Preacher concluded this Extract from the Well-Known Icelandic Poet he paused and looked downward, breathing heavily through his Nose, like Camille in the Third Act.