Question
How does the author's use of the word "vile" to describe the manure streams contribute to the reader's understanding of the dairy's conditions?
The word "vile" suggests that the dairy is a place of moral corruption, hinting at the unethical practices that Danny will later uncover.
The word "vile" emphasizes the extreme unpleasantness of the dairy's environment, highlighting the poor sanitation and neglect of the animals.
The word "vile" creates a sense of mystery and suspense, leaving the reader to wonder what other secrets the dairy might hold.
The word "vile" simply describes the physical appearance of the manure, without adding any deeper meaning to the passage.
“Sis, that dairy is a bad place. We have to stop feeding Bitsy milk from there. It’s making her sick.” I opened the notebook. “This shows how crowded the stalls are.” Turning the page, I said, “The cows get sick from eating the swill from the distillery. This is a calf that died today.” I showed her my last drawing. “And this shows men adding flour and chalk to the milk we buy for Bitsy.” My sister sank into a chair. Tears filled her eyes. “Is this true, Danny?” “Yes. And lots of poor families like us buy Pure Country Milk,” I said. “Everyone believes they’re feeding their babies good, fresh milk.” Sis was quiet for a long moment. At last she said, “I’ll talk to Ma about the milk. She can tell our neighbors, at least. But you can’t go back there.” “I have to! We need the money.” I gathered my drawings. “Besides, I need to find out more.” Over the next two weeks, I was the perfect stableboy. I kept my head down. I kept my mouth shut.
But I kept my eyes open. And, just like Sis, I did a lot of arithmetic.
I counted the cows packed into each barn and kept a tally of how many died. At night, I bent over my notebook, making sketches and writing down everything I’d learned.
Then, just when I had all the information I needed, I got caught.
One afternoon I went to get a drink of water at the pump. Mr. Glander was standing behind me. As I leaned over, my notebook fell out of my pocket. Mr. Glander picked it up and began turning the pages. His face turned red with rage. “Why, you little scoundrel!” Without thinking, I snatched the notebook. I began running, slipping and squelching through mud and filth. I ran out of the yard, past the distillery, and down Hudson Street. I ran all the way to the address I had memorized: 19 City Hall Square.
The sign on the door read: FRANK LESLIE'S ILLUSTRATED NEWSPAPER.
“Are you all right, lad?” A man got up from a desk. He looked startled. No wonder: I was covered in mud and panting hard. I held out my notebook. “I need to give this to Frank Leslie.” The man took it. “What’s this all about?” “Swill milk,” I panted. “Swill milk is hurting babies.” He turned over one page, then another. He gave a low whistle.
“My name is Danny Daley. I work at the 16th Street Dairy. My boss caught me with this. I took it and ran. I read the paper all the time. I thought . . . I wanted . . .” “You thought Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper should take on these villains, is that it?” Had I been wrong in coming here? I thought of Bitsy. I raised my head and met his eyes.
“Yes sir! Someone needs to expose this scandal. Babies are getting sick. And the animals suffer too.” The man looked at me for a moment. Then he called to a teenage boy nearby. “Thomas, bring a glass of water for our young hero here.” “I’m not a hero at all! I was scared,” I whispered. “I’m just an ordinary boy.” If I had acted sooner, I might have saved Daffodil. And maybe Bitsy wouldn’t have gotten so sick.
“Most heroes are just ordinary people. And I’d bet most of them also feel scared at some point,” the man said. “Now, sit down. You look as if you’re about to topple over.” “I shouldn’t. I stink. And I’m covered in mud.” “Nonsense,” laughed the man. “Reporters are always up to their necks in mud. That’s the only way to get the story.” I wasn’t sure I believed him.
“Is Mr. Leslie here today?” “My boy, I’m Frank Leslie.” He took the glass from the boy and handed it to me. “And this is my crack illustrator, Thomas Nast, who’s not much older than you. He’s 17. Thomas, this boy wants to make a stink about swill milk. His name is Danny Daley. I think we should call him ‘Stink Daley.’ Does that suit you, lad?” Stink Daley. I grinned. “Yes sir.” Frank Leslie reached out to shake my hand. “Welcome, Stink.” So that’s how I got my name—and my start as an illustrator.
I learned three important things my first week as a part-time newsboy and apprentice artist at Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper.
The first was to keep my head up. The second was to raise my voice. And the third was always to ask hard questions, because that was the only way to get to the truth.
It turned out that the scandal was even bigger than I imagined. The 16th Street Dairy wasn’t the only one making swill milk. Mr. Leslie himself took on the investigation, visiting other dairies in New York City and Brooklyn, and discovered mistreated cows and contaminated milk. Thomas drew more pictures for the story.
A few weeks later, in May 1858, the front page of Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper carried a startling exposure of the swill-milk trade, calling particular attention to the conditions at the 16th Street Dairy.
The word "vile" suggests that the dairy is a place of moral corruption, hinting at the unethical practices that Danny will later uncover.
The word "vile" emphasizes the extreme unpleasantness of the dairy's environment, highlighting the poor sanitation and neglect of the animals.
The word "vile" creates a sense of mystery and suspense, leaving the reader to wonder what other secrets the dairy might hold.
The word "vile" simply describes the physical appearance of the manure, without adding any deeper meaning to the passage.
“Sis, that dairy is a bad place. We have to stop feeding Bitsy milk from there. It’s making her sick.” I opened the notebook. “This shows how crowded the stalls are.” Turning the page, I said, “The cows get sick from eating the swill from the distillery. This is a calf that died today.” I showed her my last drawing. “And this shows men adding flour and chalk to the milk we buy for Bitsy.” My sister sank into a chair. Tears filled her eyes. “Is this true, Danny?” “Yes. And lots of poor families like us buy Pure Country Milk,” I said. “Everyone believes they’re feeding their babies good, fresh milk.” Sis was quiet for a long moment. At last she said, “I’ll talk to Ma about the milk. She can tell our neighbors, at least. But you can’t go back there.” “I have to! We need the money.” I gathered my drawings. “Besides, I need to find out more.” Over the next two weeks, I was the perfect stableboy. I kept my head down. I kept my mouth shut.
But I kept my eyes open. And, just like Sis, I did a lot of arithmetic.
I counted the cows packed into each barn and kept a tally of how many died. At night, I bent over my notebook, making sketches and writing down everything I’d learned.
Then, just when I had all the information I needed, I got caught.
One afternoon I went to get a drink of water at the pump. Mr. Glander was standing behind me. As I leaned over, my notebook fell out of my pocket. Mr. Glander picked it up and began turning the pages. His face turned red with rage. “Why, you little scoundrel!” Without thinking, I snatched the notebook. I began running, slipping and squelching through mud and filth. I ran out of the yard, past the distillery, and down Hudson Street. I ran all the way to the address I had memorized: 19 City Hall Square.
The sign on the door read: FRANK LESLIE'S ILLUSTRATED NEWSPAPER.
“Are you all right, lad?” A man got up from a desk. He looked startled. No wonder: I was covered in mud and panting hard. I held out my notebook. “I need to give this to Frank Leslie.” The man took it. “What’s this all about?” “Swill milk,” I panted. “Swill milk is hurting babies.” He turned over one page, then another. He gave a low whistle.
“My name is Danny Daley. I work at the 16th Street Dairy. My boss caught me with this. I took it and ran. I read the paper all the time. I thought . . . I wanted . . .” “You thought Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper should take on these villains, is that it?” Had I been wrong in coming here? I thought of Bitsy. I raised my head and met his eyes.
“Yes sir! Someone needs to expose this scandal. Babies are getting sick. And the animals suffer too.” The man looked at me for a moment. Then he called to a teenage boy nearby. “Thomas, bring a glass of water for our young hero here.” “I’m not a hero at all! I was scared,” I whispered. “I’m just an ordinary boy.” If I had acted sooner, I might have saved Daffodil. And maybe Bitsy wouldn’t have gotten so sick.
“Most heroes are just ordinary people. And I’d bet most of them also feel scared at some point,” the man said. “Now, sit down. You look as if you’re about to topple over.” “I shouldn’t. I stink. And I’m covered in mud.” “Nonsense,” laughed the man. “Reporters are always up to their necks in mud. That’s the only way to get the story.” I wasn’t sure I believed him.
“Is Mr. Leslie here today?” “My boy, I’m Frank Leslie.” He took the glass from the boy and handed it to me. “And this is my crack illustrator, Thomas Nast, who’s not much older than you. He’s 17. Thomas, this boy wants to make a stink about swill milk. His name is Danny Daley. I think we should call him ‘Stink Daley.’ Does that suit you, lad?” Stink Daley. I grinned. “Yes sir.” Frank Leslie reached out to shake my hand. “Welcome, Stink.” So that’s how I got my name—and my start as an illustrator.
I learned three important things my first week as a part-time newsboy and apprentice artist at Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper.
The first was to keep my head up. The second was to raise my voice. And the third was always to ask hard questions, because that was the only way to get to the truth.
It turned out that the scandal was even bigger than I imagined. The 16th Street Dairy wasn’t the only one making swill milk. Mr. Leslie himself took on the investigation, visiting other dairies in New York City and Brooklyn, and discovered mistreated cows and contaminated milk. Thomas drew more pictures for the story.
A few weeks later, in May 1858, the front page of Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper carried a startling exposure of the swill-milk trade, calling particular attention to the conditions at the 16th Street Dairy.
Answers
GPT-4o mini
The author's use of the word "vile" to describe the manure streams serves multiple significant functions in contributing to the reader's understanding of the dairy's conditions. Primarily, it emphasizes the extreme unpleasantness of the environment, suggesting not just poor sanitation but also neglect and mistreatment of the animals. The imagery invoked by "vile" encapsulates the disregard for cleanliness and care, which parallels the unethical practices that Danny later uncovers regarding the milk production process.
Moreover, describing the manure as "vile" implies a deeper moral decay associated with the dairy—hinting at corruption within the system that neglects animal welfare and public health in favor of profit. This language incites a visceral reaction, enabling readers to grasp the severity of the situation immediately and incites concern for both the animals enduring these conditions and the unsuspecting families consuming the tainted milk.
While it could be argued that "vile" might simply describe the physical appearance of the manure, its connotation extends beyond mere aesthetics. It is loaded with moral implications, setting the stage for the revelation of exploitative practices and the protagonist’s quest for truth. The emotional weight of the word invites readers to empathize with those affected by the dairy's operations, enhancing the urgency of the narrative as Danny seeks justice for both the animals and the families relying on questionable dairy products.
Ultimately, the choice of "vile" effectively shapes the narrative's tone and informs readers about the significant social issues at play, making it a crucial component in understanding the broader implications of the dairy's operations and the protagonist's motivations.
Moreover, describing the manure as "vile" implies a deeper moral decay associated with the dairy—hinting at corruption within the system that neglects animal welfare and public health in favor of profit. This language incites a visceral reaction, enabling readers to grasp the severity of the situation immediately and incites concern for both the animals enduring these conditions and the unsuspecting families consuming the tainted milk.
While it could be argued that "vile" might simply describe the physical appearance of the manure, its connotation extends beyond mere aesthetics. It is loaded with moral implications, setting the stage for the revelation of exploitative practices and the protagonist’s quest for truth. The emotional weight of the word invites readers to empathize with those affected by the dairy's operations, enhancing the urgency of the narrative as Danny seeks justice for both the animals and the families relying on questionable dairy products.
Ultimately, the choice of "vile" effectively shapes the narrative's tone and informs readers about the significant social issues at play, making it a crucial component in understanding the broader implications of the dairy's operations and the protagonist's motivations.