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diff --git a/old/old/1999-04-22-142-h.zip b/old/old/1999-04-22-142-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4844e3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/1999-04-22-142-h.zip diff --git a/old/old/1999-04-22-142.zip b/old/old/1999-04-22-142.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..28c95be --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/1999-04-22-142.zip diff --git a/old/old/beqst11.txt b/old/old/beqst11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5fbb1d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/beqst11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11208 @@ +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois + Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty free +copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution you can +think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg Association +/ Illinois Benedictine College". + +This "Small Print!" by Charles B. Kramer, Attorney Internet +(72600.2026@compuserve.com); TEL: (212-254-5093) +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + THE $30,000 BEQUEST + and Other Stories + + by + Mark Twain + (Samuel L. Clemens) + + The $30,000 Bequest + A Dog's Tale + Was It Heaven? Or Hell? + A Cure for the Blues + The Enemy Conquered; or, Love Triumphant + The Californian's Tale + A Helpless Situation + A Telephonic Conversation + Edward Mills and George Benton: A Tale + The Five Boons of Life + The First Writing-machines + Italian without a Master + Italian with Grammar + A Burlesque Biography + How to Tell a Story + General Washington's Negro Body-servant + Wit Inspirations of the "Two-year-olds" + An Entertaining Article + A Letter to the Secretary of the Treasury + Amended Obituaries + A Monument to Adam + A Humane Word from Satan + Introduction to "The New Guide of the + Conversation in Portuguese and English" + Advice to Little Girls + Post-mortem Poetry + The Danger of Lying in Bed + Portrait of King William III + Does the Race of Man Love a Lord? + Extracts from Adam's Diary + Eve's Diary + + +*** + + +THE $30,000 BEQUEST + + +CHAPTER I + + +Lakeside was a pleasant little town of five or six thousand inhabitants, +and a rather pretty one, too, as towns go in the Far West. +It had church accommodations for thirty-five thousand, which is +the way of the Far West and the South, where everybody is religious, +and where each of the Protestant sects is represented and has a plant +of its own. Rank was unknown in Lakeside--unconfessed, anyway; +everybody knew everybody and his dog, and a sociable friendliness +was the prevailing atmosphere. + +Saladin Foster was book-keeper in the principal store, and the only +high-salaried man of his profession in Lakeside. He was thirty-five +years old, now; he had served that store for fourteen years; +he had begun in his marriage-week at four hundred dollars a year, +and had climbed steadily up, a hundred dollars a year, for four years; +from that time forth his wage had remained eight hundred--a handsome +figure indeed, and everybody conceded that he was worth it. + +His wife, Electra, was a capable helpmeet, although--like himself-- +a dreamer of dreams and a private dabbler in romance. The first thing +she did, after her marriage--child as she was, aged only nineteen-- +was to buy an acre of ground on the edge of the town, and pay +down the cash for it--twenty-five dollars, all her fortune. +Saladin had less, by fifteen. She instituted a vegetable garden there, +got it farmed on shares by the nearest neighbor, and made it pay +her a hundred per cent. a year. Out of Saladin's first year's wage +she put thirty dollars in the savings-bank, sixty out of his second, +a hundred out of his third, a hundred and fifty out of his fourth. +His wage went to eight hundred a year, then, and meantime two children +had arrived and increased the expenses, but she banked two hundred +a year from the salary, nevertheless, thenceforth. When she had been +married seven years she built and furnished a pretty and comfortable +two-thousand-dollar house in the midst of her garden-acre, paid +half of the money down and moved her family in. Seven years later +she was out of debt and had several hundred dollars out earning +its living. + +Earning it by the rise in landed estate; for she had long ago bought +another acre or two and sold the most of it at a profit to pleasant +people who were willing to build, and would be good neighbors and +furnish a general comradeship for herself and her growing family. +She had an independent income from safe investments of about a hundred +dollars a year; her children were growing in years and grace; +and she was a pleased and happy woman. Happy in her husband, happy in +her children, and the husband and the children were happy in her. +It is at this point that this history begins. + +The youngest girl, Clytemnestra--called Clytie for short-- +was eleven; her sister, Gwendolen--called Gwen for short-- +was thirteen; nice girls, and comely. The names betray the latent +romance-tinge in the parental blood, the parents' names indicate +that the tinge was an inheritance. It was an affectionate family, +hence all four of its members had pet names, Saladin's was a curious +and unsexing one--Sally; and so was Electra's--Aleck. All day +long Sally was a good and diligent book-keeper and salesman; +all day long Aleck was a good and faithful mother and housewife, +and thoughtful and calculating business woman; but in the cozy +living-room at night they put the plodding world away, and lived in +another and a fairer, reading romances to each other, dreaming dreams, +comrading with kings and princes and stately lords and ladies in the +flash and stir and splendor of noble palaces and grim and ancient castles. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Now came great news! Stunning news--joyous news, in fact. +It came from a neighboring state, where the family's only surviving +relative lived. It was Sally's relative--a sort of vague and indefinite +uncle or second or third cousin by the name of Tilbury Foster, +seventy and a bachelor, reputed well off and corresponding sour +and crusty. Sally had tried to make up to him once, by letter, +in a bygone time, and had not made that mistake again. Tilbury now +wrote to Sally, saying he should shortly die, and should leave him +thirty thousand dollars, cash; not for love, but because money +had given him most of his troubles and exasperations, and he wished +to place it where there was good hope that it would continue its +malignant work. The bequest would be found in his will, and would +be paid over. PROVIDED, that Sally should be able to prove to the +executors that he had TAKEN NO NOTICE OF THE GIFT BY SPOKEN WORD OR +BY LETTER, HAD MADE NO INQUIRIES CONCERNING THE MORIBUND'S PROGRESS +TOWARD THE EVERLASTING TROPICS, AND HAD NOT ATTENDED THE FUNERAL. + +As soon as Aleck had partially recovered from the tremendous +emotions created by the letter, she sent to the relative's habitat +and subscribed for the local paper. + +Man and wife entered into a solemn compact, now, to never mention +the great news to any one while the relative lived, lest some +ignorant person carry the fact to the death-bed and distort it +and make it appear that they were disobediently thankful for +the bequest, and just the same as confessing it and publishing it, +right in the face of the prohibition. + +For the rest of the day Sally made havoc and confusion with his books, +and Aleck could not keep her mind on her affairs, not even take up +a flower-pot or book or a stick of wood without forgetting what she +had intended to do with it. For both were dreaming. + +"Thir-ty thousand dollars!" + +All day long the music of those inspiring words sang through +those people's heads. + +From his marriage-day forth, Aleck's grip had been upon the purse, +and Sally had seldom known what it was to be privileged to squander +a dime on non-necessities. + +"Thir-ty thousand dollars!" the song went on and on. A vast sum, +an unthinkable sum! + +All day long Aleck was absorbed in planning how to invest it, +Sally in planning how to spend it. + +There was no romance-reading that night. The children took +themselves away early, for their parents were silent, distraught, +and strangely unentertaining. The good-night kisses might as well +have been impressed upon vacancy, for all the response they got; +the parents were not aware of the kisses, and the children had +been gone an hour before their absence was noticed. Two pencils +had been busy during that hour--note-making; in the way of plans. +It was Sally who broke the stillness at last. He said, with exultation: + +"Ah, it'll be grand, Aleck! Out of the first thousand we'll have +a horse and a buggy for summer, and a cutter and a skin lap-robe +for winter." + +Aleck responded with decision and composure-- + +"Out of the CAPITAL? Nothing of the kind. Not if it was a million!" + +Sally was deeply disappointed; the glow went out of his face. + +"Oh, Aleck!" he said, reproachfully. "We've always worked so hard +and been so scrimped: and now that we are rich, it does seem--" + +He did not finish, for he saw her eye soften; his supplication +had touched her. She said, with gentle persuasiveness: + +"We must not spend the capital, dear, it would not be wise. +Out of the income from it--" + +"That will answer, that will answer, Aleck! How dear and good you are! +There will be a noble income and if we can spend that--" + +"Not ALL of it, dear, not all of it, but you can spend a part of it. +That is, a reasonable part. But the whole of the capital-- +every penny of it--must be put right to work, and kept at it. +You see the reasonableness of that, don't you?" + +"Why, ye-s. Yes, of course. But we'll have to wait so long. +Six months before the first interest falls due." + +"Yes--maybe longer." + +"Longer, Aleck? Why? Don't they pay half-yearly?" + +"THAT kind of an investment--yes; but I sha'n't invest in that way." + +"What way, then?" + +"For big returns." + +"Big. That's good. Go on, Aleck. What is it?" + +"Coal. The new mines. Cannel. I mean to put in ten thousand. +Ground floor. When we organize, we'll get three shares for one." + +"By George, but it sounds good, Aleck! Then the shares will be worth-- +how much? And when?" + +"About a year. They'll pay ten per cent. half yearly, and be +worth thirty thousand. I know all about it; the advertisement +is in the Cincinnati paper here." + +"Land, thirty thousand for ten--in a year! Let's jam in the whole +capital and pull out ninety! I'll write and subscribe right now-- +tomorrow it maybe too late." + +He was flying to the writing-desk, but Aleck stopped him and put +him back in his chair. She said: + +"Don't lose your head so. WE mustn't subscribe till we've got +the money; don't you know that?" + +Sally's excitement went down a degree or two, but he was not +wholly appeased. + +"Why, Aleck, we'll HAVE it, you know--and so soon, too. He's probably +out of his troubles before this; it's a hundred to nothing he's +selecting his brimstone-shovel this very minute. Now, I think--" + +Aleck shuddered, and said: + +"How CAN you, Sally! Don't talk in that way, it is perfectly scandalous." + +"Oh, well, make it a halo, if you like, _I_ don't care for his outfit, +I was only just talking. Can't you let a person talk?" + +"But why should you WANT to talk in that dreadful way? How would +you like to have people talk so about YOU, and you not cold yet?" + +"Not likely to be, for ONE while, I reckon, if my last act was +giving away money for the sake of doing somebody a harm with it. +But never mind about Tilbury, Aleck, let's talk about something worldly. +It does seem to me that that mine is the place for the whole thirty. +What's the objection?" + +"All the eggs in one basket--that's the objection." + +"All right, if you say so. What about the other twenty? +What do you mean to do with that?" + +"There is no hurry; I am going to look around before I do anything +with it." + +"All right, if your mind's made up," signed Sally. He was deep +in thought awhile, then he said: + +"There'll be twenty thousand profit coming from the ten a year +from now. We can spend that, can we, Aleck?" + +Aleck shook her head. + +"No, dear," she said, "it won't sell high till we've had the first +semi-annual dividend. You can spend part of that." + +"Shucks, only THAT--and a whole year to wait! Confound it, I--" + +"Oh, do be patient! It might even be declared in three months-- +it's quite within the possibilities." + +"Oh, jolly! oh, thanks!" and Sally jumped up and kissed his wife +in gratitude. "It'll be three thousand--three whole thousand! +how much of it can we spend, Aleck? Make it liberal!--do, dear, +that's a good fellow." + +Aleck was pleased; so pleased that she yielded to the pressure and +conceded a sum which her judgment told her was a foolish extravagance-- +a thousand dollars. Sally kissed her half a dozen times and even +in that way could not express all his joy and thankfulness. +This new access of gratitude and affection carried Aleck quite +beyond the bounds of prudence, and before she could restrain +herself she had made her darling another grant--a couple +of thousand out of the fifty or sixty which she meant to clear +within a year of the twenty which still remained of the bequest. +The happy tears sprang to Sally's eyes, and he said: + +"Oh, I want to hug you!" And he did it. Then he got his +notes and sat down and began to check off, for first purchase, +the luxuries which he should earliest wish to secure. +"Horse--buggy--cutter--lap-robe--patent-leathers--dog--plug-hat-- +church-pew--stem-winder--new teeth--SAY, Aleck!" + +"Well?" + +"Ciphering away, aren't you? That's right. Have you got the twenty +thousand invested yet?" + +"No, there's no hurry about that; I must look around first, +and think." + +"But you are ciphering; what's it about?" + +"Why, I have to find work for the thirty thousand that comes out +of the coal, haven't I?" + +"Scott, what a head! I never thought of that. How are you +getting along? Where have you arrived?" + +"Not very far--two years or three. I've turned it over twice; +once in oil and once in wheat." + +"Why, Aleck, it's splendid! How does it aggregate?" + +"I think--well, to be on the safe side, about a hundred and eighty +thousand clear, though it will probably be more." + +"My! isn't it wonderful? By gracious! luck has come our way at last, +after all the hard sledding, Aleck!" + +"Well?" + +"I'm going to cash in a whole three hundred on the missionaries-- +what real right have we care for expenses!" + +"You couldn't do a nobler thing, dear; and it's just like your +generous nature, you unselfish boy." + +The praise made Sally poignantly happy, but he was fair and just +enough to say it was rightfully due to Aleck rather than to himself, +since but for her he should never have had the money. + +Then they went up to bed, and in their delirium of bliss they forgot +and left the candle burning in the parlor. They did not remember +until they were undressed; then Sally was for letting it burn; +he said they could afford it, if it was a thousand. But Aleck went +down and put it out. + +A good job, too; for on her way back she hit on a scheme that would +turn the hundred and eighty thousand into half a million before it +had had time to get cold. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The little newspaper which Aleck had subscribed for was a Thursday sheet; +it would make the trip of five hundred miles from Tilbury's village +and arrive on Saturday. Tilbury's letter had started on Friday, +more than a day too late for the benefactor to die and get into +that week's issue, but in plenty of time to make connection for the +next output. Thus the Fosters had to wait almost a complete week to +find out whether anything of a satisfactory nature had happened to him +or not. It was a long, long week, and the strain was a heavy one. +The pair could hardly have borne it if their minds had not had the +relief of wholesome diversion. We have seen that they had that. +The woman was piling up fortunes right along, the man was spending them-- +spending all his wife would give him a chance at, at any rate. + +At last the Saturday came, and the WEEKLY SAGAMORE arrived. +Mrs. Eversly Bennett was present. She was the Presbyterian +parson's wife, and was working the Fosters for a charity. +Talk now died a sudden death--on the Foster side. Mrs. Bennett +presently discovered that her hosts were not hearing a word she +was saying; so she got up, wondering and indignant, and went away. +The moment she was out of the house, Aleck eagerly tore the wrapper +from the paper, and her eyes and Sally's swept the columns for the +death-notices. Disappointment! Tilbury was not anywhere mentioned. +Aleck was a Christian from the cradle, and duty and the force of +habit required her to go through the motions. She pulled herself +together and said, with a pious two-per-cent. trade joyousness: + +"Let us be humbly thankful that he has been spared; and--" + +"Damn his treacherous hide, I wish--" + +"Sally! For shame!" + +"I don't care!" retorted the angry man. "It's the way YOU feel, +and if you weren't so immorally pious you'd be honest and say so." + +Aleck said, with wounded dignity: + +"I do not see how you can say such unkind and unjust things. +There is no such thing as immoral piety." + +Sally felt a pang, but tried to conceal it under a shuffling attempt +to save his case by changing the form of it--as if changing the form +while retaining the juice could deceive the expert he was trying +to placate. He said: + +"I didn't mean so bad as that, Aleck; I didn't really mean +immoral piety, I only meant--meant--well, conventional piety, +you know; er--shop piety; the--the--why, YOU know what I mean. +Aleck--the--well, where you put up that plated article and play +it for solid, you know, without intending anything improper, +but just out of trade habit, ancient policy, petrified custom, +loyalty to--to--hang it, I can't find the right words, but YOU +know what I mean, Aleck, and that there isn't any harm in it. +I'll try again. You see, it's this way. If a person--" + +"You have said quite enough," said Aleck, coldly; "let the subject +be dropped." + +"I'M willing," fervently responded Sally, wiping the sweat from +his forehead and looking the thankfulness he had no words for. +Then, musingly, he apologized to himself. "I certainly held threes-- +I KNOW it--but I drew and didn't fill. That's where I'm so often +weak in the game. If I had stood pat--but I didn't. I never do. +I don't know enough." + +Confessedly defeated, he was properly tame now and subdued. +Aleck forgave him with her eyes. + +The grand interest, the supreme interest, came instantly to the +front again; nothing could keep it in the background many minutes +on a stretch. The couple took up the puzzle of the absence +of Tilbury's death-notice. They discussed it every which way, +more or less hopefully, but they had to finish where they began, +and concede that the only really sane explanation of the absence +of the notice must be--and without doubt was--that Tilbury was +not dead. There was something sad about it, something even a +little unfair, maybe, but there it was, and had to be put up with. +They were agreed as to that. To Sally it seemed a strangely +inscrutable dispensation; more inscrutable than usual, he thought; +one of the most unnecessary inscrutable he could call to mind, +in fact--and said so, with some feeling; but if he was hoping +to draw Aleck he failed; she reserved her opinion, if she had one; +she had not the habit of taking injudicious risks in any market, +worldly or other. + +The pair must wait for next week's paper--Tilbury had +evidently postponed. That was their thought and their decision. +So they put the subject away and went about their affairs +again with as good heart as they could. + + +Now, if they had but known it, they had been wronging Tilbury +all the time. Tilbury had kept faith, kept it to the letter; +he was dead, he had died to schedule. He was dead more than four +days now and used to it; entirely dead, perfectly dead, as dead +as any other new person in the cemetery; dead in abundant time to get +into that week's SAGAMORE, too, and only shut out by an accident; +an accident which could not happen to a metropolitan journal, +but which happens easily to a poor little village rag like the SAGAMORE. +On this occasion, just as the editorial page was being locked up, +a gratis quart of strawberry ice-water arrived from Hostetter's +Ladies and Gents Ice-Cream Parlors, and the stickful of rather +chilly regret over Tilbury's translation got crowded out to make +room for the editor's frantic gratitude. + +On its way to the standing-galley Tilbury's notice got pied. +Otherwise it would have gone into some future edition, for WEEKLY +SAGAMORES do not waste "live" matter, and in their galleys "live" +matter is immortal, unless a pi accident intervenes. But a thing +that gets pied is dead, and for such there is no resurrection; +its chance of seeing print is gone, forever and ever. And so, +let Tilbury like it or not, let him rave in his grave to his fill, +no matter--no mention of his death would ever see the light in the +WEEKLY SAGAMORE. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Five weeks drifted tediously along. The SAGAMORE arrived regularly on +the Saturdays, but never once contained a mention of Tilbury Foster. +Sally's patience broke down at this point, and he said, resentfully: + +"Damn his livers, he's immortal!" + +Aleck give him a very severe rebuke, and added with icy solemnity: + +"How would you feel if you were suddenly cut out just after such +an awful remark had escaped out of you?" + +Without sufficient reflection Sally responded: + +"I'd feel I was lucky I hadn't got caught with it IN me." + +Pride had forced him to say something, and as he could not think +of any rational thing to say he flung that out. Then he stole a base-- +as he called it--that is, slipped from the presence, to keep from +being brayed in his wife's discussion-mortar. + +Six months came and went. The SAGAMORE was still silent about Tilbury. +Meantime, Sally had several times thrown out a feeler--that is, +a hint that he would like to know. Aleck had ignored the hints. +Sally now resolved to brace up and risk a frontal attack. +So he squarely proposed to disguise himself and go to Tilbury's +village and surreptitiously find out as to the prospects. +Aleck put her foot on the dangerous project with energy and decision. +She said: + +"What can you be thinking of? You do keep my hands full! +You have to be watched all the time, like a little child, to keep +you from walking into the fire. You'll stay right where you are!" + +"Why, Aleck, I could do it and not be found out--I'm certain of it." + +"Sally Foster, don't you know you would have to inquire around?" + +"Of course, but what of it? Nobody would suspect who I was." + +"Oh, listen to the man! Some day you've got to prove to the +executors that you never inquired. What then?" + +He had forgotten that detail. He didn't reply; there wasn't +anything to say. Aleck added: + +"Now then, drop that notion out of your mind, and don't ever meddle +with it again. Tilbury set that trap for you. Don't you know it's +a trap? He is on the watch, and fully expecting you to blunder +into it. Well, he is going to be disappointed--at least while I +am on deck. Sally!" + +"Well?" + +"As long as you live, if it's a hundred years, don't you ever make +an inquiry. Promise!" + +"All right," with a sigh and reluctantly. + +Then Aleck softened and said: + +"Don't be impatient. We are prospering; we can wait; there is +no hurry. Our small dead-certain income increases all the time; +and as to futures, I have not made a mistake yet--they are piling +up by the thousands and tens of thousands. There is not another +family in the state with such prospects as ours. Already we are +beginning to roll in eventual wealth. You know that, don't you?" + +"Yes, Aleck, it's certainly so." + +"Then be grateful for what God is doing for us and stop worrying. +You do not believe we could have achieved these prodigious results +without His special help and guidance, do you?" + +Hesitatingly, "N-no, I suppose not." Then, with feeling +and admiration, "And yet, when it comes to judiciousness +in watering a stock or putting up a hand to skin Wall Street +I don't give in that YOU need any outside amateur help, if I do wish I--" + +"Oh, DO shut up! I know you do not mean any harm or any irreverence, +poor boy, but you can't seem to open your mouth without letting out +things to make a person shudder. You keep me in constant dread. +For you and for all of us. Once I had no fear of the thunder, +but now when I hear it I--" + +Her voice broke, and she began to cry, and could not finish. +The sight of this smote Sally to the heart and he took her in his +arms and petted her and comforted her and promised better conduct, +and upbraided himself and remorsefully pleaded for forgiveness. +And he was in earnest, and sorry for what he had done and ready for any +sacrifice that could make up for it. + +And so, in privacy, he thought long and deeply over the matter, +resolving to do what should seem best. It was easy to PROMISE reform; +indeed he had already promised it. But would that do any real good, +any permanent good? No, it would be but temporary--he knew +his weakness, and confessed it to himself with sorrow--he could +not keep the promise. Something surer and better must be devised; +and he devised it. At cost of precious money which he had long +been saving up, shilling by shilling, he put a lightning-rod on +the house. + +At a subsequent time he relapsed. + +What miracles habit can do! and how quickly and how easily habits +are acquired--both trifling habits and habits which profoundly change us. +If by accident we wake at two in the morning a couple of nights +in succession, we have need to be uneasy, for another repetition can +turn the accident into a habit; and a month's dallying with whiskey-- +but we all know these commonplace facts. + +The castle-building habit, the day-dreaming habit--how it grows! +what a luxury it becomes; how we fly to its enchantments at every +idle moment, how we revel in them, steep our souls in them, +intoxicate ourselves with their beguiling fantasies--oh yes, +and how soon and how easily our dram life and our material life +become so intermingled and so fused together that we can't quite +tell which is which, any more. + +By and by Aleck subscribed to a Chicago daily and for the WALL +STREET POINTER. With an eye single to finance she studied these +as diligently all the week as she studied her Bible Sundays. +Sally was lost in admiration, to note with what swift and sure strides +her genius and judgment developed and expanded in the forecasting and +handling of the securities of both the material and spiritual markets. +He was proud of her nerve and daring in exploiting worldly stocks, +and just as proud of her conservative caution in working her +spiritual deals. He noted that she never lost her head in either case; +that with a splendid courage she often went short on worldly futures, +but heedfully drew the line there--she was always long on the others. +Her policy was quite sane and simple, as she explained it to him: +what she put into earthly futures was for speculation, what she put +into spiritual futures was for investment; she was willing to go into +the one on a margin, and take chances, but in the case of the other, +"margin her no margins"--she wanted to cash in a hundred cents per +dollar's worth, and have the stock transferred on the books. + +It took but a very few months to educate Aleck's imagination +and Sally's. Each day's training added something to the spread +and effectiveness of the two machines. As a consequence, Aleck made +imaginary money much faster than at first she had dreamed of making it, +and Sally's competency in spending the overflow of it kept pace with +the strain put upon it, right along. In the beginning, Aleck had +given the coal speculation a twelvemonth in which to materialize, +and had been loath to grant that this term might possibly be shortened +by nine months. But that was the feeble work, the nursery work, +of a financial fancy that had had no teaching, no experience, +no practice. These aids soon came, then that nine months vanished, +and the imaginary ten-thousand-dollar investment came marching +home with three hundred per cent. profit on its back! + +It was a great day for the pair of Fosters. They were speechless +for joy. Also speechless for another reason: after much watching +of the market, Aleck had lately, with fear and trembling, made her +first flyer on a "margin," using the remaining twenty thousand of +the bequest in this risk. In her mind's eye she had seen it climb, +point by point--always with a chance that the market would break-- +until at last her anxieties were too great for further endurance-- +she being new to the margin business and unhardened, as yet--and she +gave her imaginary broker an imaginary order by imaginary telegraph +to sell. She said forty thousand dollars' profit was enough. +The sale was made on the very day that the coal venture had returned +with its rich freight. As I have said, the couple were speechless. +they sat dazed and blissful that night, trying to realize that they were +actually worth a hundred thousand dollars in clean, imaginary cash. +Yet so it was. + +It was the last time that ever Aleck was afraid of a margin; +at least afraid enough to let it break her sleep and pale her cheek +to the extent that this first experience in that line had done. + +Indeed it was a memorable night. Gradually the realization that they +were rich sank securely home into the souls of the pair, then they +began to place the money. If we could have looked out through +the eyes of these dreamers, we should have seen their tidy little +wooden house disappear, and two-story brick with a cast-iron fence +in front of it take its place; we should have seen a three-globed +gas-chandelier grow down from the parlor ceiling; we should have seen +the homely rag carpet turn to noble Brussels, a dollar and a half +a yard; we should have seen the plebeian fireplace vanish away and +a recherch'e, big base-burner with isinglass windows take position +and spread awe around. And we should have seen other things, +too; among them the buggy, the lap-robe, the stove-pipe hat, and so on. + +From that time forth, although the daughters and the neighbors +saw only the same old wooden house there, it was a two-story +brick to Aleck and Sally and not a night went by that Aleck did +not worry about the imaginary gas-bills, and get for all comfort +Sally's reckless retort: "What of it? We can afford it." + +Before the couple went to bed, that first night that they were rich, +they had decided that they must celebrate. They must give a party-- +that was the idea. But how to explain it--to the daughters and +the neighbors? They could not expose the fact that they were rich. +Sally was willing, even anxious, to do it; but Aleck kept her head +and would not allow it. She said that although the money was as +good as in, it would be as well to wait until it was actually in. +On that policy she took her stand, and would not budge. +The great secret must be kept, she said--kept from the daughters and +everybody else. + +The pair were puzzled. They must celebrate, they were determined +to celebrate, but since the secret must be kept, what could +they celebrate? No birthdays were due for three months. +Tilbury wasn't available, evidently he was going to live forever; +what the nation COULD they celebrate? That was Sally's way +of putting it; and he was getting impatient, too, and harassed. +But at last he hit it--just by sheer inspiration, as it seemed to him-- +and all their troubles were gone in a moment; they would celebrate +the Discovery of America. A splendid idea! + +Aleck was almost too proud of Sally for words--she said SHE never would +have thought of it. But Sally, although he was bursting with delight +in the compliment and with wonder at himself, tried not to let on, +and said it wasn't really anything, anybody could have done it. +Whereat Aleck, with a prideful toss of her happy head, said: + +"Oh, certainly! Anybody could--oh, anybody! Hosannah Dilkins, +for instance! Or maybe Adelbert Peanut--oh, DEAR--yes! Well, I'd like +to see them try it, that's all. Dear-me-suz, if they could think +of the discovery of a forty-acre island it's more than _I_ believe +they could; and as for the whole continent, why, Sally Foster, +you know perfectly well it would strain the livers and lights +out of them and THEN they couldn't!" + +The dear woman, she knew he had talent; and if affection made +her over-estimate the size of it a little, surely it was a sweet +and gentle crime, and forgivable for its source's sake. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The celebration went off well. The friends were all present, +both the young and the old. Among the young were Flossie and +Gracie Peanut and their brother Adelbert, who was a rising young +journeyman tinner, also Hosannah Dilkins, Jr., journeyman plasterer, +just out of his apprenticeship. For many months Adelbert and Hosannah +had been showing interest in Gwendolen and Clytemnestra Foster, +and the parents of the girls had noticed this with private satisfaction. +But they suddenly realized now that that feeling had passed. +They recognized that the changed financial conditions had raised +up a social bar between their daughters and the young mechanics. +The daughters could now look higher--and must. Yes, must. They need +marry nothing below the grade of lawyer or merchant; poppa and momma +would take care of this; there must be no m'esalliances. + +However, these thinkings and projects of their were private, +and did not show on the surface, and therefore threw no shadow +upon the celebration. What showed upon the surface was a serene +and lofty contentment and a dignity of carriage and gravity of +deportment which compelled the admiration and likewise the wonder +of the company. All noticed it and all commented upon it, but none +was able to divine the secret of it. It was a marvel and a mystery. +Three several persons remarked, without suspecting what clever +shots they were making: + +"It's as if they'd come into property." + +That was just it, indeed. + +Most mothers would have taken hold of the matrimonial matter in the +old regulation way; they would have given the girls a talking to, +of a solemn sort and untactful--a lecture calculated to defeat its +own purpose, by producing tears and secret rebellion; and the said +mothers would have further damaged the business by requesting +the young mechanics to discontinue their attentions. But this +mother was different. She was practical. She said nothing to any +of the young people concerned, nor to any one else except Sally. +He listened to her and understood; understood and admired. +He said: + +"I get the idea. Instead of finding fault with the samples on view, +thus hurting feelings and obstructing trade without occasion, +you merely offer a higher class of goods for the money, and leave +nature to take her course. It's wisdom, Aleck, solid wisdom, +and sound as a nut. Who's your fish? Have you nominated him yet?" + +No, she hadn't. They must look the market over--which they did. +To start with, they considered and discussed Brandish, rising young +lawyer, and Fulton, rising young dentist. Sally must invite them +to dinner. But not right away; there was no hurry, Aleck said. +Keep an eye on the pair, and wait; nothing would be lost by going +slowly in so important a matter. + +It turned out that this was wisdom, too; for inside of three +weeks Aleck made a wonderful strike which swelled her imaginary +hundred thousand to four hundred thousand of the same quality. +She and Sally were in the clouds that evening. For the first +time they introduced champagne at dinner. Not real champagne, +but plenty real enough for the amount of imagination expended on it. +It was Sally that did it, and Aleck weakly submitted. At bottom both +were troubled and ashamed, for he was a high-up Son of Temperance, +and at funerals wore an apron which no dog could look upon and retain +his reason and his opinion; and she was a W. C. T. U., with all that +that implies of boiler-iron virtue and unendurable holiness. But there +is was; the pride of riches was beginning its disintegrating work. +They had lived to prove, once more, a sad truth which had been proven +many times before in the world: that whereas principle is a great +and noble protection against showy and degrading vanities and vices, +poverty is worth six of it. More than four hundred thousand +dollars to the good. They took up the matrimonial matter again. +Neither the dentist nor the lawyer was mentioned; there was no occasion, +they were out of the running. Disqualified. They discussed the son +of the pork-packer and the son of the village banker. But finally, +as in the previous case, they concluded to wait and think, and go +cautiously and sure. + +Luck came their way again. Aleck, ever watchful saw a great +and risky chance, and took a daring flyer. A time of trembling, +of doubt, of awful uneasiness followed, for non-success meant absolute +ruin and nothing short of it. Then came the result, and Aleck, +faint with joy, could hardly control her voice when she said: + +"The suspense is over, Sally--and we are worth a cold million!" + +Sally wept for gratitude, and said: + +"Oh, Electra, jewel of women, darling of my heart, we are free +at last, we roll in wealth, we need never scrimp again. it's a +case for Veuve Cliquot!" and he got out a pint of spruce-beer +and made sacrifice, he saying "Damn the expense," and she rebuking +him gently with reproachful but humid and happy eyes. + +They shelved the pork-packer's son and the banker's son, and sat +down to consider the Governor's son and the son of the Congressman. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It were a weariness to follow in detail the leaps and bounds the Foster +fictitious finances took from this time forth. It was marvelous, +it was dizzying, it was dazzling. Everything Aleck touched turned +to fairy gold, and heaped itself glittering toward the firmament. +Millions upon millions poured in, and still the mighty stream flowed +thundering along, still its vast volume increased. Five millions-- +ten millions--twenty--thirty--was there never to be an end? + +Two years swept by in a splendid delirium, the intoxicated Fosters +scarcely noticing the flight of time. They were now worth three hundred +million dollars; they were in every board of directors of every +prodigious combine in the country; and still as time drifted along, +the millions went on piling up, five at a time, ten at a time, +as fast as they could tally them off, almost. The three hundred +double itself--then doubled again--and yet again--and yet once more. + +Twenty-four hundred millions! + +The business was getting a little confused. It was necessary +to take an account of stock, and straighten it out. The Fosters +knew it, they felt it, they realized that it was imperative; +but they also knew that to do it properly and perfectly the task +must be carried to a finish without a break when once it was begun. +A ten-hours' job; and where could THEY find ten leisure hours +in a bunch? Sally was selling pins and sugar and calico all day +and every day; Aleck was cooking and washing dishes and sweeping +and making beds all day and every day, with none to help, +for the daughters were being saved up for high society. The Fosters +knew there was one way to get the ten hours, and only one. +Both were ashamed to name it; each waited for the other to do it. +Finally Sally said: + +"Somebody's got to give in. It's up to me. Consider that I've +named it--never mind pronouncing it out aloud." + +Aleck colored, but was grateful. Without further remark, they fell. +Fell, and--broke the Sabbath. For that was their only free +ten-hour stretch. It was but another step in the downward path. +Others would follow. Vast wealth has temptations which fatally +and surely undermine the moral structure of persons not habituated +to its possession. + +They pulled down the shades and broke the Sabbath. With hard +and patient labor they overhauled their holdings and listed them. +And a long-drawn procession of formidable names it was! +Starting with the Railway Systems, Steamer Lines, Standard Oil, +Ocean Cables, Diluted Telegraph, and all the rest, and winding +up with Klondike, De Beers, Tammany Graft, and Shady Privileges +in the Post-office Department. + +Twenty-four hundred millions, and all safely planted in Good Things, +gilt-edged and interest-bearing. Income, $120,000,000 a year. +Aleck fetched a long purr of soft delight, and said: + +"Is it enough?" + +"It is, Aleck." + +"What shall we do?" + +"Stand pat." + +"Retire from business?" + +"That's it." + +"I am agreed. The good work is finished; we will take a long rest +and enjoy the money." + +"Good! Aleck!" + +"Yes, dear?" + +"How much of the income can we spend?" + +"The whole of it." + +It seemed to her husband that a ton of chains fell from his limbs. +He did not say a word; he was happy beyond the power of speech. + +After that, they broke the Sabbaths right along as fast as they +turned up. It is the first wrong step that counts. Every Sunday +they put in the whole day, after morning service, on inventions-- +inventions of ways to spend the money. They got to continuing this +delicious dissipation until past midnight; and at every s'eance Aleck +lavished millions upon great charities and religious enterprises, +and Sally lavished like sums upon matters to which (at first) +he gave definite names. Only at first. Later the names gradually +lost sharpness of outline, and eventually faded into "sundries," +thus becoming entirely--but safely--undescriptive. For Sally +was crumbling. The placing of these millions added seriously +and most uncomfortably to the family expenses--in tallow candles. +For a while Aleck was worried. Then, after a little, she ceased +to worry, for the occasion of it was gone. She was pained, +she was grieved, she was ashamed; but she said nothing, and so became +an accessory. Sally was taking candles; he was robbing the store. +It is ever thus. Vast wealth, to the person unaccustomed to it, +is a bane; it eats into the flesh and bone of his morals. +When the Fosters were poor, they could have been trusted with +untold candles. But now they--but let us not dwell upon it. +From candles to apples is but a step: Sally got to taking apples; +then soap; then maple-sugar; then canned goods; then crockery. +How easy it is to go from bad to worse, when once we have started upon a +downward course! + +Meantime, other effects had been milestoning the course of the Fosters' +splendid financial march. The fictitious brick dwelling had +given place to an imaginary granite one with a checker-board +mansard roof; in time this one disappeared and gave place to a +still grander home--and so on and so on. Mansion after mansion, +made of air, rose, higher, broader, finer, and each in its turn +vanished away; until now in these latter great days, our dreamers +were in fancy housed, in a distant region, in a sumptuous vast +palace which looked out from a leafy summit upon a noble prospect +of vale and river and receding hills steeped in tinted mists-- +and all private, all the property of the dreamers; a palace swarming +with liveried servants, and populous with guests of fame and power, +hailing from all the world's capitals, foreign and domestic. + +This palace was far, far away toward the rising sun, immeasurably remote, +astronomically remote, in Newport, Rhode Island, Holy Land +of High Society, ineffable Domain of the American Aristocracy. +As a rule they spent a part of every Sabbath--after morning service-- +in this sumptuous home, the rest of it they spent in Europe, +or in dawdling around in their private yacht. Six days of sordid +and plodding fact life at home on the ragged edge of Lakeside +and straitened means, the seventh in Fairlyand--such had been +their program and their habit. + +In their sternly restricted fact life they remained as of old-- +plodding, diligent, careful, practical, economical. They stuck +loyally to the little Presbyterian Church, and labored faithfully +in its interests and stood by its high and tough doctrines with all +their mental and spiritual energies. But in their dream life they +obeyed the invitations of their fancies, whatever they might be, +and howsoever the fancies might change. Aleck's fancies were not +very capricious, and not frequent, but Sally's scattered a good deal. +Aleck, in her dream life, went over to the Episcopal camp, on account +of its large official titles; next she became High-church on account +of the candles and shows; and next she naturally changed to Rome, +where there were cardinals and more candles. But these excursions +were a nothing to Sally's. His dream life was a glowing and continuous +and persistent excitement, and he kept every part of it fresh and +sparkling by frequent changes, the religious part along with the rest. +He worked his religions hard, and changed them with his shirt. + +The liberal spendings of the Fosters upon their fancies began +early in their prosperities, and grew in prodigality step by step +with their advancing fortunes. In time they became truly enormous. +Aleck built a university or two per Sunday; also a hospital or two; +also a Rowton hotel or so; also a batch of churches; now and then +a cathedral; and once, with untimely and ill-chosen playfulness, +Sally said, "It was a cold day when she didn't ship a cargo of +missionaries to persuade unreflecting Chinamen to trade off twenty-four +carat Confucianism for counterfeit Christianity." + +This rude and unfeeling language hurt Aleck to the heart, and she +went from the presence crying. That spectacle went to his own heart, +and in his pain and shame he would have given worlds to have +those unkind words back. She had uttered no syllable of reproach-- +and that cut him. Not one suggestion that he look at his own record-- +and she could have made, oh, so many, and such blistering ones! +Her generous silence brought a swift revenge, for it turned his +thoughts upon himself, it summoned before him a spectral procession, +a moving vision of his life as he had been leading it these past +few years of limitless prosperity, and as he sat there reviewing +it his cheeks burned and his soul was steeped in humiliation. +Look at her life--how fair it was, and tending ever upward; and look +at his own--how frivolous, how charged with mean vanities, how selfish, +how empty, how ignoble! And its trend--never upward, but downward, +ever downward! + +He instituted comparisons between her record and his own. He had found +fault with her--so he mused--HE! And what could he say for himself? +When she built her first church what was he doing? Gathering other +blas'e multimillionaires into a Poker Club; defiling his own palace +with it; losing hundreds of thousands to it at every sitting, +and sillily vain of the admiring notoriety it made for him. +When she was building her first university, what was he doing? +Polluting himself with a gay and dissipated secret life in the +company of other fast bloods, multimillionaires in money and paupers +in character. When she was building her first foundling asylum, +what was he doing? Alas! When she was projecting her noble Society +for the Purifying of the Sex, what was he doing? Ah, what, indeed! +When she and the W. C. T. U. and the Woman with the Hatchet, +moving with resistless march, were sweeping the fatal bottle from +the land, what was he doing? Getting drunk three times a day. +When she, builder of a hundred cathedrals, was being gratefully +welcomed and blest in papal Rome and decorated with the Golden Rose +which she had so honorably earned, what was he doing? Breaking the +bank at Monte Carlo. + +He stopped. He could go no farther; he could not bear the rest. +He rose up, with a great resolution upon his lips: this secret +life should be revealing, and confessed; no longer would he live +it clandestinely, he would go and tell her All. + +And that is what he did. He told her All; and wept upon +her bosom; wept, and moaned, and begged for her forgiveness. +It was a profound shock, and she staggered under the blow, but he +was her own, the core of her heart, the blessing of her eyes, +her all in all, she could deny him nothing, and she forgave him. +She felt that he could never again be quite to her what he had +been before; she knew that he could only repent, and not reform; +yet all morally defaced and decayed as he was, was he not her own, +her very own, the idol of her deathless worship? She said she +was his serf, his slave, and she opened her yearning heart and took +him in. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +One Sunday afternoon some time after this they were sailing the +summer seas in their dream yacht, and reclining in lazy luxury under +the awning of the after-deck. There was silence, for each was busy +with his own thoughts. These seasons of silence had insensibly +been growing more and more frequent of late; the old nearness and +cordiality were waning. Sally's terrible revelation had done its work; +Aleck had tried hard to drive the memory of it out of her mind, +but it would not go, and the shame and bitterness of it were +poisoning her gracious dream life. She could see now (on Sundays) +that her husband was becoming a bloated and repulsive Thing. +She could not close her eyes to this, and in these days she +no longer looked at him, Sundays, when she could help it. + +But she--was she herself without blemish? Alas, she knew she was not. +She was keeping a secret from him, she was acting dishonorably +toward him, and many a pang it was costing her. SHE WAS BREAKING +THE COMPACT, AND CONCEALING IT FROM HIM. Under strong temptation +she had gone into business again; she had risked their whole +fortune in a purchase of all the railway systems and coal and steel +companies in the country on a margin, and she was now trembling, +every Sabbath hour, lest through some chance word of hers he find +it out. In her misery and remorse for this treachery she could +not keep her heart from going out to him in pity; she was filled +with compunctions to see him lying there, drunk and contented, +and ever suspecting. Never suspecting--trusting her with a perfect +and pathetic trust, and she holding over him by a thread a possible +calamity of so devastating a-- + +"SAY--Aleck?" + +The interrupting words brought her suddenly to herself. She was +grateful to have that persecuting subject from her thoughts, +and she answered, with much of the old-time tenderness in her tone: + +"Yes, dear." + +"Do you know, Aleck, I think we are making a mistake--that is, +you are. I mean about the marriage business." He sat up, fat and +froggy and benevolent, like a bronze Buddha, and grew earnest. +"Consider--it's more than five years. You've continued the same +policy from the start: with every rise, always holding on for five +points higher. Always when I think we are going to have some weddings, +you see a bigger thing ahead, and I undergo another disappointment. +_I_ think you are too hard to please. Some day we'll get left. +First, we turned down the dentist and the lawyer. That was all right-- +it was sound. Next, we turned down the banker's son and the +pork-butcher's heir--right again, and sound. Next, we turned +down the Congressman's son and the Governor's--right as a trivet, +I confess it. Next the Senator's son and the son of the Vice-President +of the United States--perfectly right, there's no permanency about +those little distinctions. Then you went for the aristocracy; +and I thought we had struck oil at last--yes. We would make +a plunge at the Four Hundred, and pull in some ancient lineage, +venerable, holy, ineffable, mellow with the antiquity of a hundred +and fifty years, disinfected of the ancestral odors of salt-cod +and pelts all of a century ago, and unsmirched by a day's work since, +and then! why, then the marriages, of course. But no, along comes +a pair a real aristocrats from Europe, and straightway you throw over +the half-breeds. It was awfully discouraging, Aleck! Since then, +what a procession! You turned down the baronets for a pair +of barons; you turned down the barons for a pair of viscounts; +the viscounts for a pair of earls; the earls for a pair of marquises; +the marquises for a brace of dukes. NOW, Aleck, cash in!-- +you've played the limit. You've got a job lot of four dukes +under the hammer; of four nationalities; all sound in the wind +and limb and pedigree, all bankrupt and in debt up to the ears. +They come high, but we can afford it. Come, Aleck, don't delay +any longer, don't keep up the suspense: take the whole lay-out, +and leave the girls to choose!" + +Aleck had been smiling blandly and contentedly all through this +arraignment of her marriage policy, a pleasant light, as of triumph +with perhaps a nice surprise peeping out through it, rose in her eyes, +and she said, as calmly as she could: + +"Sally, what would you say to--ROYALTY?" + +Prodigious! Poor man, it knocked him silly, and he fell over the +garboard-strake and barked his shin on the cat-heads. He was dizzy +for a moment, then he gathered himself up and limped over and sat +down by his wife and beamed his old-time admiration and affection +upon her in floods, out of his bleary eyes. + +"By George!" he said, fervently, "Aleck, you ARE great--the greatest +woman in the whole earth! I can't ever learn the whole size of you. +I can't ever learn the immeasurable deeps of you. Here I've been +considering myself qualified to criticize your game. _I!_ Why, +if I had stopped to think, I'd have known you had a lone hand up +your sleeve. Now, dear heart, I'm all red-hot impatience--tell me +about it!" + +The flattered and happy woman put her lips to his ear and whispered +a princely name. It made him catch his breath, it lit his face +with exultation. + +"Land!" he said, "it's a stunning catch! He's got a gambling-hall, +and a graveyard, and a bishop, and a cathedral--all his very own. +And all gilt-edged five-hundred-per-cent. stock, every detail of it; +the tidiest little property in Europe. and that graveyard-- +it's the selectest in the world: none but suicides admitted; +YES, sir, and the free-list suspended, too, ALL the time. +There isn't much land in the principality, but there's enough: +eight hundred acres in the graveyard and forty-two outside. +It's a SOVEREIGNTY--that's the main thing; LAND'S nothing. +There's plenty land, Sahara's drugged with it." + +Aleck glowed; she was profoundly happy. She said: + +"Think of it, Sally--it is a family that has never married outside +the Royal and Imperial Houses of Europe: our grandchildren will +sit upon thrones!" + +"True as you live, Aleck--and bear scepters, too; and handle +them as naturally and nonchantly as I handle a yardstick. +it's a grand catch, Aleck. He's corralled, is he? Can't get away? +You didn't take him on a margin?" + +"No. Trust me for that. He's not a liability, he's an asset. +So is the other one." + +"Who is it, Aleck?" + +"His Royal Highness +Sigismund-Siegfriend-Lauenfeld-Dinkelspiel-Schwartzenberg +Blutwurst, Hereditary Grant Duke of Katzenyammer." + +"No! You can't mean it!" + +"It's as true as I'm sitting here, I give you my word," she answered. + +His cup was full, and he hugged her to his heart with rapture, saying: + +"How wonderful it all seems, and how beautiful! It's one of the +oldest and noblest of the three hundred and sixty-four ancient +German principalities, and one of the few that was allowed to +retain its royal estate when Bismarck got done trimming them. +I know that farm, I've been there. It's got a rope-walk and a +candle-factory and an army. Standing army. Infantry and cavalry. +Three soldier and a horse. Aleck, it's been a long wait, and full +of heartbreak and hope deferred, but God knows I am happy now. +Happy, and grateful to you, my own, who have done it all. +When is it to be?" + +"Next Sunday." + +"Good. And we'll want to do these weddings up in the very regalest +style that's going. It's properly due to the royal quality of the +parties of the first part. Now as I understand it, there is only one +kind of marriage that is sacred to royalty, exclusive to royalty: +it's the morganatic." + +"What do they call it that for, Sally?" + +"I don't know; but anyway it's royal, and royal only." + +"Then we will insist upon it. More--I will compel it. +It is morganatic marriage or none." + +"That settles it!" said Sally, rubbing his hands with delight. +"And it will be the very first in America. Aleck, it will make +Newport sick." + +Then they fell silent, and drifted away upon their dream wings +to the far regions of the earth to invite all the crowned heads +and their families and provide gratis transportation to them. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +During three days the couple walked upon air, with their heads in +the clouds. They were but vaguely conscious of their surroundings; +they saw all things dimly, as through a veil; they were steeped +in dreams, often they did not hear when they were spoken to; +they often did not understand when they heard; they answered confusedly +or at random; Sally sold molasses by weight, sugar by the yard, +and furnished soap when asked for candles, and Aleck put the cat +in the wash and fed milk to the soiled linen. Everybody was stunned +and amazed, and went about muttering, "What CAN be the matter +with the Fosters?" + +Three days. Then came events! Things had taken a happy turn, +and for forty-eight hours Aleck's imaginary corner had been booming. +Up--up--still up! Cost point was passed. Still up--and up-- +and up! Cost point was passed. STill up--and up--and up! +Five points above cost--then ten--fifteen--twenty! Twenty points +cold profit on the vast venture, now, and Aleck's imaginary brokers +were shouting frantically by imaginary long-distance, "Sell! sell! +for Heaven's sake SELL!" + +She broke the splendid news to Sally, and he, too, said, +"Sell! sell--oh, don't make a blunder, now, you own the earth!-- +sell, sell!" But she set her iron will and lashed it amidships, +and said she would hold on for five points more if she died for it. + +It was a fatal resolve. The very next day came the historic crash, +the record crash, the devastating crash, when the bottom fell out +of Wall Street, and the whole body of gilt-edged stocks dropped +ninety-five points in five hours, and the multimillionaire was seen +begging his bread in the Bowery. Aleck sternly held her grip +and "put up" ass long as she could, but at last there came a call +which she was powerless to meet, and her imaginary brokers sold +her out. Then, and not till then, the man in her was vanished, +and the woman in her resumed sway. She put her arms about her +husband's neck and wept, saying: + +"I am to blame, do not forgive me, I cannot bear it. We are paupers! +Paupers, and I am so miserable. The weddings will never come off; +all that is past; we could not even buy the dentist, now." + +A bitter reproach was on Sally's tongue: "I BEGGED you to sell, +but you--" He did not say it; he had not the heart to add a hurt +to that broken and repentant spirit. A nobler thought came to him +and he said: + +"Bear up, my Aleck, all is not lost! You really never invested +a penny of my uncle's bequest, but only its unmaterialized future; +what we have lost was only the incremented harvest from that future +by your incomparable financial judgment and sagacity. Cheer up, +banish these griefs; we still have the thirty thousand untouched; +and with the experience which you have acquired, think what you will +be able to do with it in a couple years! The marriages are not off, +they are only postponed." + +These are blessed words. Aleck saw how true they were, and their +influence was electric; her tears ceased to flow, and her great spirit +rose to its full stature again. With flashing eye and grateful heart, +and with hand uplifted in pledge and prophecy, she said: + +"Now and here I proclaim--" + +But she was interrupted by a visitor. It was the editor and proprietor +of the SAGAMORE. He had happened into Lakeside to pay a duty-call upon +an obscure grandmother of his who was nearing the end of her pilgrimage, +and with the idea of combining business with grief he had looked up +the Fosters, who had been so absorbed in other things for the past +four years that they neglected to pay up their subscription. +Six dollars due. No visitor could have been more welcome. He would +know all about Uncle Tilbury and what his chances might be getting +to be, cemeterywards. They could, of course, ask no questions, +for that would squelch the bequest, but they could nibble around on +the edge of the subject and hope for results. The scheme did not work. +The obtuse editor did not know he was being nibbled at; but at last, +chance accomplished what art had failed in. In illustration of something +under discussion which required the help of metaphor, the editor said: + +"Land, it's a tough as Tilbury Foster!--as WE say." + +It was sudden, and it made the Fosters jump. The editor noticed, +and said, apologetically: + +"No harm intended, I assure you. It's just a saying; just a joke, +you know--nothing of it. Relation of yours?" + +Sally crowded his burning eagerness down, and answered with all +the indifference he could assume: + +"I--well, not that I know of, but we've heard of him." The editor +was thankful, and resumed his composure. Sally added: "Is he-- +is he--well?" + +"Is he WELL? Why, bless you he's in Sheol these five years!" + +The Fosters were trembling with grief, though it felt like joy. +Sally said, non-committally--and tentatively: + +"Ah, well, such is life, and none can escape--not even the rich +are spared." + +The editor laughed. + +"If you are including Tilbury," said he, "it don't apply. +HE hadn't a cent; the town had to bury him." + +The Fosters sat petrified for two minutes; petrified and cold. +Then, white-faced and weak-voiced, Sally asked: + +"Is it true? Do you KNOW it to be true?" + +"Well, I should say! I was one of the executors. He hadn't +anything to leave but a wheelbarrow, and he left that to me. +It hadn't any wheel, and wasn't any good. Still, it was something, +and so, to square up, I scribbled off a sort of a little obituarial +send-off for him, but it got crowded out." + +The Fosters were not listening--their cup was full, it could +contain no more. They sat with bowed heads, dead to all things +but the ache at their hearts. + +An hour later. Still they sat there, bowed, motionless, silent, +the visitor long ago gone, they unaware. + +Then they stirred, and lifted their heads wearily, and gazed at each +other wistfully, dreamily, dazed; then presently began to twaddle +to each other in a wandering and childish way. At intervals they +lapsed into silences, leaving a sentence unfinished, seemingly either +unaware of it or losing their way. Sometimes, when they woke +out of these silences they had a dim and transient consciousness +that something had happened to their minds; then with a dumb +and yearning solicitude they would softly caress each other's +hands in mutual compassion and support, as if they would say: +"I am near you, I will not forsake you, we will bear it together; +somewhere there is release and forgetfulness, somewhere there +is a grave and peace; be patient, it will not be long." + +They lived yet two years, in mental night, always brooding, +steeped in vague regrets and melancholy dreams, never speaking; +then release came to both on the same day. + +Toward the end the darkness lifted from Sally's ruined mind +for a moment, and he said: + +"Vast wealth, acquired by sudden and unwholesome means, is a snare. +It did us no good, transient were its feverish pleasures; +yet for its sake we threw away our sweet and simple and happy life-- +let others take warning by us." + +He lay silent awhile, with closed eyes; then as the chill of death +crept upward toward his heart, and consciousness was fading from +his brain, he muttered: + +"Money had brought him misery, and he took his revenge upon us, +who had done him no harm. He had his desire: with base and cunning +calculation he left us but thirty thousand, knowing we would try +to increase it, and ruin our life and break our hearts. Without added +expense he could have left us far above desire of increase, far above +the temptation to speculate, and a kinder soul would have done it; +but in him was no generous spirit, no pity, no--" + +*** + + + +A DOG'S TALE + + + +CHAPTER I + + +My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am +a Presbyterian. This is what my mother told me, I do not know +these nice distinctions myself. To me they are only fine large +words meaning nothing. My mother had a fondness for such; +she liked to say them, and see other dogs look surprised and envious, +as wondering how she got so much education. But, indeed, it was not +real education; it was only show: she got the words by listening +in the dining-room and drawing-room when there was company, +and by going with the children to Sunday-school and listening there; +and whenever she heard a large word she said it over to herself +many times, and so was able to keep it until there was a dogmatic +gathering in the neighborhood, then she would get it off, +and surprise and distress them all, from pocket-pup to mastiff, +which rewarded her for all her trouble. If there was a stranger +he was nearly sure to be suspicious, and when he got his breath +again he would ask her what it meant. And she always told him. +He was never expecting this but thought he would catch her; +so when she told him, he was the one that looked ashamed, +whereas he had thought it was going to be she. The others were +always waiting for this, and glad of it and proud of her, for they +knew what was going to happen, because they had had experience. +When she told the meaning of a big word they were all so taken up +with admiration that it never occurred to any dog to doubt if it +was the right one; and that was natural, because, for one thing, +she answered up so promptly that it seemed like a dictionary speaking, +and for another thing, where could they find out whether it was right +or not? for she was the only cultivated dog there was. By and by, +when I was older, she brought home the word Unintellectual, one time, +and worked it pretty hard all the week at different gatherings, +making much unhappiness and despondency; and it was at this time +that I noticed that during that week she was asked for the meaning +at eight different assemblages, and flashed out a fresh definition +every time, which showed me that she had more presence of mind +than culture, though I said nothing, of course. She had one word +which she always kept on hand, and ready, like a life-preserver, +a kind of emergency word to strap on when she was likely to get +washed overboard in a sudden way--that was the word Synonymous. +When she happened to fetch out a long word which had had its day +weeks before and its prepared meanings gone to her dump-pile, +if there was a stranger there of course it knocked him groggy for +a couple of minutes, then he would come to, and by that time she +would be away down wind on another tack, and not expecting anything; +so when he'd hail and ask her to cash in, I (the only dog on +the inside of her game) could see her canvas flicker a moment-- +but only just a moment--then it would belly out taut and full, +and she would say, as calm as a summer's day, "It's synonymous +with supererogation," or some godless long reptile of a word +like that, and go placidly about and skim away on the next tack, +perfectly comfortable, you know, and leave that stranger looking +profane and embarrassed, and the initiated slatting the floor +with their tails in unison and their faces transfigured with a +holy joy. + +And it was the same with phrases. She would drag home a whole phrase, +if it had a grand sound, and play it six nights and two matinees, +and explain it a new way every time--which she had to, for all she +cared for was the phrase; she wasn't interested in what it meant, +and knew those dogs hadn't wit enough to catch her, anyway. +Yes, she was a daisy! She got so she wasn't afraid of anything, +she had such confidence in the ignorance of those creatures. +She even brought anecdotes that she had heard the family and the +dinner-guests laugh and shout over; and as a rule she got the nub +of one chestnut hitched onto another chestnut, where, of course, +it didn't fit and hadn't any point; and when she delivered the nub +she fell over and rolled on the floor and laughed and barked +in the most insane way, while I could see that she was wondering +to herself why it didn't seem as funny as it did when she first +heard it. But no harm was done; the others rolled and barked too, +privately ashamed of themselves for not seeing the point, and never +suspecting that the fault was not with them and there wasn't any +to see. + +You can see by these things that she was of a rather vain and +frivolous character; still, she had virtues, and enough to make up, +I think. She had a kind heart and gentle ways, and never harbored +resentments for injuries done her, but put them easily out of her +mind and forgot them; and she taught her children her kindly way, +and from her we learned also to be brave and prompt in time of danger, +and not to run away, but face the peril that threatened friend +or stranger, and help him the best we could without stopping to think +what the cost might be to us. And she taught us not by words only, +but by example, and that is the best way and the surest and the +most lasting. Why, the brave things she did, the splendid things! she +was just a soldier; and so modest about it--well, you couldn't help +admiring her, and you couldn't help imitating her; not even a King +Charles spaniel could remain entirely despicable in her society. +So, as you see, there was more to her than her education. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +When I was well grown, at last, I was sold and taken away, +and I never saw her again. She was broken-hearted, and so was I, +and we cried; but she comforted me as well as she could, and said +we were sent into this world for a wise and good purpose, and must +do our duties without repining, take our life as we might find it, +live it for the best good of others, and never mind about the results; +they were not our affair. She said men who did like this would have +a noble and beautiful reward by and by in another world, and although +we animals would not go there, to do well and right without reward +would give to our brief lives a worthiness and dignity which in +itself would be a reward. She had gathered these things from time +to time when she had gone to the Sunday-school with the children, +and had laid them up in her memory more carefully than she had done +with those other words and phrases; and she had studied them deeply, +for her good and ours. One may see by this that she had a wise +and thoughtful head, for all there was so much lightness and vanity +in it. + +So we said our farewells, and looked our last upon each other through +our tears; and the last thing she said--keeping it for the last +to make me remember it the better, I think--was, "In memory of me, +when there is a time of danger to another do not think of yourself, +think of your mother, and do as she would do." + +Do you think I could forget that? No. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +It was such a charming home!--my new one; a fine great house, +with pictures, and delicate decorations, and rich furniture, +and no gloom anywhere, but all the wilderness of dainty colors lit up +with flooding sunshine; and the spacious grounds around it, and the +great garden--oh, greensward, and noble trees, and flowers, no end! +And I was the same as a member of the family; and they loved me, +and petted me, and did not give me a new name, but called me by my +old one that was dear to me because my mother had given it me-- +Aileen Mavoureen. She got it out of a song; and the Grays knew +that song, and said it was a beautiful name. + +Mrs. Gray was thirty, and so sweet and so lovely, you cannot +imagine it; and Sadie was ten, and just like her mother, just a +darling slender little copy of her, with auburn tails down her back, +and short frocks; and the baby was a year old, and plump and dimpled, +and fond of me, and never could get enough of hauling on my tail, +and hugging me, and laughing out its innocent happiness; and Mr. Gray +was thirty-eight, and tall and slender and handsome, a little bald +in front, alert, quick in his movements, business-like, prompt, +decided, unsentimental, and with that kind of trim-chiseled face +that just seems to glint and sparkle with frosty intellectuality! +He was a renowned scientist. I do not know what the word means, +but my mother would know how to use it and get effects. She would +know how to depress a rat-terrier with it and make a lap-dog +look sorry he came. But that is not the best one; the best one +was Laboratory. My mother could organize a Trust on that one that +would skin the tax-collars off the whole herd. The laboratory +was not a book, or a picture, or a place to wash your hands in, +as the college president's dog said--no, that is the lavatory; +the laboratory is quite different, and is filled with jars, +and bottles, and electrics, and wires, and strange machines; +and every week other scientists came there and sat in the place, +and used the machines, and discussed, and made what they called +experiments and discoveries; and often I came, too, and stood +around and listened, and tried to learn, for the sake of my mother, +and in loving memory of her, although it was a pain to me, as realizing +what she was losing out of her life and I gaining nothing at all; +for try as I might, I was never able to make anything out of it +at all. + +Other times I lay on the floor in the mistress's work-room and slept, +she gently using me for a foot-stool, knowing it pleased me, +for it was a caress; other times I spent an hour in the nursery, +and got well tousled and made happy; other times I watched by the +crib there, when the baby was asleep and the nurse out for a few +minutes on the baby's affairs; other times I romped and raced +through the grounds and the garden with Sadie till we were tired out, +then slumbered on the grass in the shade of a tree while she read +her book; other times I went visiting among the neighbor dogs-- +for there were some most pleasant ones not far away, and one very +handsome and courteous and graceful one, a curly-haired Irish +setter by the name of Robin Adair, who was a Presbyterian like me, +and belonged to the Scotch minister. + +The servants in our house were all kind to me and were fond of me, +and so, as you see, mine was a pleasant life. There could not be +a happier dog that I was, nor a gratefuler one. I will say this +for myself, for it is only the truth: I tried in all ways to do +well and right, and honor my mother's memory and her teachings, +and earn the happiness that had come to me, as best I could. + +By and by came my little puppy, and then my cup was full, my happiness +was perfect. It was the dearest little waddling thing, and so smooth +and soft and velvety, and had such cunning little awkward paws, +and such affectionate eyes, and such a sweet and innocent face; +and it made me so proud to see how the children and their mother +adored it, and fondled it, and exclaimed over every little wonderful +thing it did. It did seem to me that life was just too lovely to-- + +Then came the winter. One day I was standing a watch in the nursery. +That is to say, I was asleep on the bed. The baby was asleep in +the crib, which was alongside the bed, on the side next the fireplace. +It was the kind of crib that has a lofty tent over it made of gauzy +stuff that you can see through. The nurse was out, and we two +sleepers were alone. A spark from the wood-fire was shot out, and it +lit on the slope of the tent. I suppose a quiet interval followed, +then a scream from the baby awoke me, and there was that tent +flaming up toward the ceiling! Before I could think, I sprang +to the floor in my fright, and in a second was half-way to the door; +but in the next half-second my mother's farewell was sounding +in my ears, and I was back on the bed again., I reached my head +through the flames and dragged the baby out by the waist-band, +and tugged it along, and we fell to the floor together in a cloud +of smoke; I snatched a new hold, and dragged the screaming little +creature along and out at the door and around the bend of the hall, +and was still tugging away, all excited and happy and proud, +when the master's voice shouted: + +"Begone you cursed beast!" and I jumped to save myself; but he +was furiously quick, and chased me up, striking furiously at me +with his cane, I dodging this way and that, in terror, and at last a +strong blow fell upon my left foreleg, which made me shriek and fall, +for the moment, helpless; the came went up for another blow, +but never descended, for the nurse's voice rang wildly out, +"The nursery's on fire!" and the master rushed away in that direction, +and my other bones were saved. + +The pain was cruel, but, no matter, I must not lose any time; +he might come back at any moment; so I limped on three legs to the +other end of the hall, where there was a dark little stairway leading +up into a garret where old boxes and such things were kept, as I had +heard say, and where people seldom went. I managed to climb up there, +then I searched my way through the dark among the piles of things, +and hid in the secretest place I could find. It was foolish to be +afraid there, yet still I was; so afraid that I held in and hardly +even whimpered, though it would have been such a comfort to whimper, +because that eases the pain, you know. But I could lick my leg, +and that did some good. + +For half an hour there was a commotion downstairs, and shoutings, +and rushing footsteps, and then there was quiet again. Quiet for +some minutes, and that was grateful to my spirit, for then my fears +began to go down; and fears are worse than pains--oh, much worse. +Then came a sound that froze me. They were calling me--calling me +by name--hunting for me! + +It was muffled by distance, but that could not take the terror out of it, +and it was the most dreadful sound to me that I had ever heard. +It went all about, everywhere, down there: along the halls, through all +the rooms, in both stories, and in the basement and the cellar; +then outside, and farther and farther away--then back, and all +about the house again, and I thought it would never, never stop. +But at last it did, hours and hours after the vague twilight of +the garret had long ago been blotted out by black darkness. + +Then in that blessed stillness my terrors fell little by little away, +and I was at peace and slept. It was a good rest I had, but I woke +before the twilight had come again. I was feeling fairly comfortable, +and I could think out a plan now. I made a very good one; +which was, to creep down, all the way down the back stairs, +and hide behind the cellar door, and slip out and escape when the +iceman came at dawn, while he was inside filling the refrigerator; +then I would hide all day, and start on my journey when night came; +my journey to--well, anywhere where they would not know me and betray +me to the master. I was feeling almost cheerful now; then suddenly +I thought: Why, what would life be without my puppy! + +That was despair. There was no plan for me; I saw that; +I must say where I was; stay, and wait, and take what might come-- +it was not my affair; that was what life is--my mother had said it. +Then--well, then the calling began again! All my sorrows came back. +I said to myself, the master will never forgive. I did not know +what I had done to make him so bitter and so unforgiving, yet I +judged it was something a dog could not understand, but which was +clear to a man and dreadful. + +They called and called--days and nights, it seemed to me. +So long that the hunger and thirst near drove me mad, and I +recognized that I was getting very weak. When you are this way you +sleep a great deal, and I did. Once I woke in an awful fright-- +it seemed to me that the calling was right there in the garret! +And so it was: it was Sadie's voice, and she was crying; my name +was falling from her lips all broken, poor thing, and I could not +believe my ears for the joy of it when I heard her say: + +"Come back to us--oh, come back to us, and forgive--it is all so sad +without our--" + +I broke in with SUCH a grateful little yelp, and the next moment +Sadie was plunging and stumbling through the darkness and the lumber +and shouting for the family to hear, "She's found, she's found!" + + +The days that followed--well, they were wonderful. The mother +and Sadie and the servants--why, they just seemed to worship me. +They couldn't seem to make me a bed that was fine enough; +and as for food, they couldn't be satisfied with anything but game +and delicacies that were out of season; and every day the friends +and neighbors flocked in to hear about my heroism--that was the +name they called it by, and it means agriculture. I remember my +mother pulling it on a kennel once, and explaining it in that way, +but didn't say what agriculture was, except that it was synonymous +with intramural incandescence; and a dozen times a day Mrs. Gray +and Sadie would tell the tale to new-comers, and say I risked my life +to say the baby's, and both of us had burns to prove it, and then +the company would pass me around and pet me and exclaim about me, +and you could see the pride in the eyes of Sadie and her mother; +and when the people wanted to know what made me limp, they looked +ashamed and changed the subject, and sometimes when people hunted +them this way and that way with questions about it, it looked to me +as if they were going to cry. + +And this was not all the glory; no, the master's friends came, +a whole twenty of the most distinguished people, and had me in +the laboratory, and discussed me as if I was a kind of discovery; +and some of them said it was wonderful in a dumb beast, the finest +exhibition of instinct they could call to mind; but the master said, +with vehemence, "It's far above instinct; it's REASON, and many a man, +privileged to be saved and go with you and me to a better world +by right of its possession, has less of it that this poor silly +quadruped that's foreordained to perish"; and then he laughed, +and said: "Why, look at me--I'm a sarcasm! bless you, with all +my grand intelligence, the only think I inferred was that the dog +had gone mad and was destroying the child, whereas but for the +beast's intelligence--it's REASON, I tell you!--the child would +have perished!" + +They disputed and disputed, and _I_ was the very center of subject +of it all, and I wished my mother could know that this grand honor +had come to me; it would have made her proud. + +Then they discussed optics, as they called it, and whether a certain +injury to the brain would produce blindness or not, but they could +not agree about it, and said they must test it by experiment by and by; +and next they discussed plants, and that interested me, because in +the summer Sadie and I had planted seeds--I helped her dig the holes, +you know--and after days and days a little shrub or a flower came +up there, and it was a wonder how that could happen; but it did, +and I wished I could talk--I would have told those people about it +and shown then how much I knew, and been all alive with the subject; +but I didn't care for the optics; it was dull, and when the came back +to it again it bored me, and I went to sleep. + +Pretty soon it was spring, and sunny and pleasant and lovely, +and the sweet mother and the children patted me and the puppy +good-by, and went away on a journey and a visit to their kin, +and the master wasn't any company for us, but we played together +and had good times, and the servants were kind and friendly, +so we got along quite happily and counted the days and waited +for the family. + +And one day those men came again, and said, now for the test, +and they took the puppy to the laboratory, and I limped +three-leggedly along, too, feeling proud, for any attention shown +to the puppy was a pleasure to me, of course. They discussed +and experimented, and then suddenly the puppy shrieked, +and they set him on the floor, and he went staggering around, +with his head all bloody, and the master clapped his hands and shouted: + +"There, I've won--confess it! He's a blind as a bat!" + +And they all said: + +"It's so--you've proved your theory, and suffering humanity owes +you a great debt from henceforth," and they crowded around him, +and wrung his hand cordially and thankfully, and praised him. + +But I hardly saw or heard these things, for I ran at once to my +little darling, and snuggled close to it where it lay, and licked +the blood, and it put its head against mine, whimpering softly, +and I knew in my heart it was a comfort to it in its pain and +trouble to feel its mother's touch, though it could not see me. +Then it dropped down, presently, and its little velvet nose rested +upon the floor, and it was still, and did not move any more. + +Soon the master stopped discussing a moment, and rang in the footman, +and said, "Bury it in the far corner of the garden," and then went +on with the discussion, and I trotted after the footman, very happy +and grateful, for I knew the puppy was out of its pain now, because it +was asleep. We went far down the garden to the farthest end, +where the children and the nurse and the puppy and I used to play +in the summer in the shade of a great elm, and there the footman dug +a hole, and I saw he was going to plant the puppy, and I was glad, +because it would grow and come up a fine handsome dog, like Robin Adair, +and be a beautiful surprise for the family when they came home; +so I tried to help him dig, but my lame leg was no good, being stiff, +you know, and you have to have two, or it is no use. When the +footman had finished and covered little Robin up, he patted my head, +and there were tears in his eyes, and he said: "Poor little doggie, +you saved HIS child!" + +I have watched two whole weeks, and he doesn't come up! This last week +a fright has been stealing upon me. I think there is something terrible +about this. I do not know what it is, but the fear makes me sick, +and I cannot eat, though the servants bring me the best of food; +and they pet me so, and even come in the night, and cry, and say, +"Poor doggie--do give it up and come home; DON't break our hearts!" +and all this terrifies me the more, and makes me sure something +has happened. And I am so weak; since yesterday I cannot stand on my +feet anymore. And within this hour the servants, looking toward the +sun where it was sinking out of sight and the night chill coming on, +said things I could not understand, but they carried something cold +to my heart. + +"Those poor creatures! They do not suspect. They will come home +in the morning, and eagerly ask for the little doggie that did +the brave deed, and who of us will be strong enough to say the truth +to them: 'The humble little friend is gone where go the beasts +that perish.'" + + +*** + + + + +WAS IT HEAVEN? OR HELL? + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"You told a LIE?" + +"You confess it--you actually confess it--you told a lie!" + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The family consisted of four persons: Margaret Lester, widow, +aged thirty six; Helen Lester, her daughter, aged sixteen; +Mrs. Lester's maiden aunts, Hannah and Hester Gray, twins, aged +sixty-seven. Waking and sleeping, the three women spent their days +and night in adoring the young girl; in watching the movements +of her sweet spirit in the mirror of her face; in refreshing their +souls with the vision of her bloom and beauty; in listening to the +music of her voice; in gratefully recognizing how rich and fair +for them was the world with this presence in it; in shuddering +to think how desolate it would be with this light gone out of it. + +By nature--and inside--the aged aunts were utterly dear and lovable +and good, but in the matter of morals and conduct their training +had been so uncompromisingly strict that it had made them +exteriorly austere, not to say stern. Their influence was effective +in the house; so effective that the mother and the daughter +conformed to its moral and religious requirements cheerfully, +contentedly, happily, unquestionably. To do this was become +second nature to them. And so in this peaceful heaven there +were no clashings, no irritations, no fault-finding, no heart-burnings. + +In it a lie had no place. In it a lie was unthinkable. +In it speech was restricted to absolute truth, iron-bound truth, +implacable and uncompromising truth, let the resulting consequences +be what they might. At last, one day, under stress of circumstances, +the darling of the house sullied her lips with a lie--and confessed it, +with tears and self-upbraidings. There are not any words that can paint +the consternation of the aunts. It was as if the sky had crumpled +up and collapsed and the earth had tumbled to ruin with a crash. +They sat side by side, white and stern, gazing speechless upon +the culprit, who was on her knees before them with her face +buried first in one lap and then the other, moaning and sobbing, +and appealing for sympathy and forgiveness and getting no response, +humbly kissing the hand of the one, then of the other, only to see +it withdrawn as suffering defilement by those soiled lips. + +Twice, at intervals, Aunt Hester said, in frozen amazement: + +"You told a LIE?" + +Twice, at intervals, Aunt Hannah followed with the muttered +and amazed ejaculation: + +"You confess it--you actually confess it--you told a lie!" + +It was all they could say. The situation was new, unheard of, +incredible; they could not understand it, they did not know +how to take hold of it, it approximately paralyzed speech. + +At length it was decided that the erring child must be taken to +her mother, who was ill, and who ought to know what had happened. +Helen begged, besought, implored that she might be spared this +further disgrace, and that her mother might be spared the grief +and pain of it; but this could not be: duty required this sacrifice, +duty takes precedence of all things, nothing can absolve one from +a duty, with a duty no compromise is possible. + +Helen still begged, and said the sin was her own, her mother had +had no hand in it--why must she be made to suffer for it? + +But the aunts were obdurate in their righteousness, and said the +law that visited the sins of the parent upon the child was by all +right and reason reversible; and therefore it was but just that the +innocent mother of a sinning child should suffer her rightful share +of the grief and pain and shame which were the allotted wages of the sin. + +The three moved toward the sick-room. + + +At this time the doctor was approaching the house. He was still +a good distance away, however. He was a good doctor and a good man, +and he had a good heart, but one had to know him a year to get +over hating him, two years to learn to endure him, three to learn +to like him, and four and five to learn to live him. It was a slow +and trying education, but it paid. He was of great stature; he had +a leonine head, a leonine face, a rough voice, and an eye which was +sometimes a pirate's and sometimes a woman's, according to the mood. +He knew nothing about etiquette, and cared nothing about it; in speech, +manner, carriage, and conduct he was the reverse of conventional. +He was frank, to the limit; he had opinions on all subjects; they were +always on tap and ready for delivery, and he cared not a farthing +whether his listener liked them or didn't. Whom he loved he loved, +and manifested it; whom he didn't live he hated, and published +it from the housetops. In his young days he had been a sailor, +and the salt-airs of all the seas blew from him yet. He was a sturdy +and loyal Christian, and believed he was the best one in the land, +and the only one whose Christianity was perfectly sound, healthy, +full-charged with common sense, and had no decayed places in it. +People who had an ax to grind, or people who for any reason wanted +wanted to get on the soft side of him, called him The Christian-- +a phrase whose delicate flattery was music to his ears, and whose +capital T was such an enchanting and vivid object to him that he +could SEE it when it fell out of a person's mouth even in the dark. +Many who were fond of him stood on their consciences with both feet +and brazenly called him by that large title habitually, because it +was a pleasure to them to do anything that would please him; +and with eager and cordial malice his extensive and diligently +cultivated crop of enemies gilded it, beflowered it, expanded it +to "The ONLY Christian." Of these two titles, the latter had +the wider currency; the enemy, being greatly in the majority, +attended to that. Whatever the doctor believed, he believed with +all his heart, and would fight for it whenever he got the chance; +and if the intervals between chances grew to be irksomely wide, +he would invent ways of shortening them himself. He was +severely conscientious, according to his rather independent lights, +and whatever he took to be a duty he performed, no matter whether +the judgment of the professional moralists agreed with his own +or not. At sea, in his young days, he had used profanity freely, +but as soon as he was converted he made a rule, which he rigidly stuck +to ever afterward, never to use it except on the rarest occasions, +and then only when duty commanded. He had been a hard drinker at sea, +but after his conversion he became a firm and outspoken teetotaler, +in order to be an example to the young, and from that time forth he +seldom drank; never, indeed, except when it seemed to him to be a duty-- +a condition which sometimes occurred a couple of times a year, but never +as many as five times. + +Necessarily, such a man is impressionable, impulsive, emotional. +This one was, and had no gift at hiding his feelings; or if he +had it he took no trouble to exercise it. He carried his soul's +prevailing weather in his face, and when he entered a room +the parasols or the umbrellas went up--figuratively speaking-- +according to the indications. When the soft light was in his eye +it meant approval, and delivered a benediction; when he came with a +frown he lowered the temperature ten degrees. He was a well-beloved +man in the house of his friends, but sometimes a dreaded one. + +He had a deep affection for the Lester household and its several +members returned this feeling with interest. They mourned over +his kind of Christianity, and he frankly scoffed at theirs; +but both parties went on loving each other just the same. + +He was approaching the house--out of the distance; the aunts +and the culprit were moving toward the sick-chamber. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The three last named stood by the bed; the aunts austere, +the transgressor softly sobbing. The mother turned her head +on the pillow; her tired eyes flamed up instantly with sympathy +and passionate mother-love when they fell upon her child, +and she opened the refuge and shelter of her arms. + +"Wait!" said Aunt Hannah, and put out her hand and stayed the girl +from leaping into them. + +"Helen," said the other aunt, impressively, "tell your mother all. +Purge your soul; leave nothing unconfessed." + +Standing stricken and forlorn before her judges, the young girl +mourned her sorrowful tale through the end, then in a passion +of appeal cried out: + +"Oh, mother, can't you forgive me? won't you forgive me?--I am +so desolate!" + +"Forgive you, my darling? Oh, come to my arms!--there, lay your head +upon my breast, and be at peace. If you had told a thousand lies--" + +There was a sound--a warning--the clearing of a throat. The aunts +glanced up, and withered in their clothes--there stood the doctor, +his face a thunder-cloud. Mother and child knew nothing of +his presence; they lay locked together, heart to heart, steeped in +immeasurable content, dead to all things else. The physician +stood many moments glaring and glooming upon the scene before him; +studying it, analyzing it, searching out its genesis; then he put +up his hand and beckoned to the aunts. They came trembling to him, +and stood humbly before him and waited. He bent down and whispered: + +"Didn't I tell you this patient must be protected from all excitement? +What the hell have you been doing? Clear out of the place?" + +They obeyed. Half an hour later he appeared in the parlor, +serene, cheery, clothed in sunshine, conducting Helen, with his +arm about her waist, petting her, and saying gentle and playful +things to her; and she also was her sunny and happy self again. + +"Now, then;" he said, "good-by, dear. Go to your room, and keep +away from your mother, and behave yourself. But wait--put out +your tongue. There, that will do--you're as sound as a nut!" +He patted her cheek and added, "Run along now; I want to talk +to these aunts." + +She went from the presence. His face clouded over again at once; +and as he sat down he said: + +"You too have been doing a lot of damage--and maybe some good. +Some good, yes--such as it is. That woman's disease is typhoid! +You've brought it to a show-up, I think, with your insanities, +and that's a service--such as it is. I hadn't been able to determine +what it was before." + +With one impulse the old ladies sprang to their feet, quaking with terror. + +"Sit down! What are you proposing to do?" + +"Do? We must fly to her. We--" + +"You'll do nothing of the kind; you've done enough harm for one day. +Do you want to squander all your capital of crimes and follies on a +single deal? Sit down, I tell you. I have arranged for her to sleep; +she needs it; if you disturb her without my orders, I'll brain you-- +if you've got the materials for it. + +They sat down, distressed and indignant, but obedient, under compulsion. +He proceeded: + +"Now, then, I want this case explained. THEY wanted to explain it +to me--as if there hadn't been emotion or excitement enough already. +You knew my orders; how did you dare to go in there and get up +that riot?" + +Hester looked appealing at Hannah; Hannah returned a beseeching look +at Hester--neither wanted to dance to this unsympathetic orchestra. +The doctor came to their help. He said: + +"Begin, Hester." + +Fingering at the fringes of her shawl, and with lowered eyes, +Hester said, timidly: + +"We should not have disobeyed for any ordinary cause, but this +was vital. This was a duty. With a duty one has no choice; +one must put all lighter considerations aside and perform it. +We were obliged to arraign her before her mother. She had told +a lie." + +The doctor glowered upon the woman a moment, and seemed +to be trying to work up in his mind an understand of a wholly +incomprehensible proposition; then he stormed out: + +"She told a lie! DID she? God bless my soul! I tell a million a day! +And so does every doctor. And so does everybody--including you-- +for that matter. And THAT was the important thing that authorized +you to venture to disobey my orders and imperil that woman's life! +Look here, Hester Gray, this is pure lunacy; that girl COULDN'T tell +a lie that was intended to injure a person. The thing is impossible-- +absolutely impossible. You know it yourselves--both of you; +you know it perfectly well." + +Hannah came to her sister's rescue: + +"Hester didn't mean that it was that kind of a lie, and it wasn't. +But it was a lie." + +"Well, upon my word, I never heard such nonsense! Haven't you +got sense enough to discriminate between lies! Don't you know +the difference between a lie that helps and a lie that hurts?" + +"ALL lies are sinful," said Hannah, setting her lips together +like a vise; "all lies are forbidden." + +The Only Christian fidgeted impatiently in his chair. He went to attack +this proposition, but he did not quite know how or where to begin. +Finally he made a venture: + +"Hester, wouldn't you tell a lie to shield a person from an undeserved +injury or shame?" + +"No." + +"Not even a friend?" + +"No." + +"Not even your dearest friend?" + +"No. I would not." + +The doctor struggled in silence awhile with this situation; +then he asked: + +"Not even to save him from bitter pain and misery and grief?" + +"No. Not even to save his life." + +Another pause. Then: + +"Nor his soul?" + +There was a hush--a silence which endured a measurable interval-- +then Hester answered, in a low voice, but with decision: + +"Nor his soul?" + +No one spoke for a while; then the doctor said: + +"Is it with you the same, Hannah?" + +"Yes," she answered. + +"I ask you both--why?" + +"Because to tell such a lie, or any lie, is a sin, and could cost +us the loss of our own souls--WOULD, indeed, if we died without +time to repent." + +"Strange . . . strange . . . it is past belief." Then he +asked, roughly: "Is such a soul as that WORTH saving?" +He rose up, mumbling and grumbling, and started for the door, +stumping vigorously along. At the threshold he turned and rasped +out an admonition: "Reform! Drop this mean and sordid and selfish +devotion to the saving of your shabby little souls, and hunt up +something to do that's got some dignity to it! RISK your souls! risk +them in good causes; then if you lose them, why should you care? Reform!" + +The good old gentlewomen sat paralyzed, pulverized, outraged, insulted, +and brooded in bitterness and indignation over these blasphemies. +They were hurt to the heart, poor old ladies, and said they could +never forgive these injuries. + +"Reform!" + +They kept repeating that word resentfully. "Reform--and learn +to tell lies!" + +Time slipped along, and in due course a change came over their spirits. +They had completed the human being's first duty--which is to think +about himself until he has exhausted the subject, then he is in a +condition to take up minor interests and think of other people. +This changes the complexion of his spirits--generally wholesomely. +The minds of the two old ladies reverted to their beloved niece +and the fearful disease which had smitten her; instantly they forgot +the hurts their self-love had received, and a passionate desire +rose in their hearts to go to the help of the sufferer and comfort +her with their love, and minister to her, and labor for her the best +they could with their weak hands, and joyfully and affectionately +wear out their poor old bodies in her dear service if only they might +have the privilege. + +"And we shall have it!" said Hester, with the tears running +down her face. "There are no nurses comparable to us, for there +are no others that will stand their watch by that bed till they +drop and die, and God knows we would do that." + +"Amen," said Hannah, smiling approval and endorsement through the +mist of moisture that blurred her glasses. "The doctor knows us, +and knows we will not disobey again; and he will call no others. +He will not dare!" + +"Dare?" said Hester, with temper, and dashing the water from her eyes; +"he will dare anything--that Christian devil! But it will do no +good for him to try it this time--but, laws! Hannah! after all's +said and done, he is gifted and wise and good, and he would not +think of such a thing. . . . It is surely time for one of us to go +to that room. What is keeping him? Why doesn't he come and say so?" + +They caught the sound of his approaching step. He entered, sat down, +and began to talk. + +"Margaret is a sick woman," he said. "She is still sleeping, +but she will wake presently; then one of you must go to her. +She will be worse before she is better. Pretty soon a night-and-day +watch must be set. How much of it can you two undertake?" + +"All of it!" burst from both ladies at once. + +The doctor's eyes flashed, and he said, with energy: + +"You DO ring true, you brave old relics! And you SHALL do all of +the nursing you can, for there's none to match you in that divine +office in this town; but you can't do all of it, and it would +be a crime to let you." It was grand praise, golden praise, +coming from such a source, and it took nearly all the resentment +out of the aged twin's hearts. "Your Tilly and my old Nancy shall +do the rest--good nurses both, white souls with black skins, +watchful, loving, tender--just perfect nurses!--and competent liars +from the cradle. . . . Look you! keep a little watch on Helen; +she is sick, and is going to be sicker." + +The ladies looked a little surprised, and not credulous; and Hester said: + +"How is that? It isn't an hour since you said she was as sound +as a nut." + +The doctor answered, tranquilly: + +"It was a lie." + +The ladies turned upon him indignantly, and Hannah said: + +"How can you make an odious confession like that, in so indifferent +a tone, when you know how we feel about all forms of--" + +"Hush! You are as ignorant as cats, both of you, and you don't know +what you are talking about. You are like all the rest of the moral moles; +you lie from morning till night, but because you don't do it with +your mouths, but only with your lying eyes, your lying inflections, +your deceptively misplaced emphasis, and your misleading gestures, +you turn up your complacent noses and parade before God and +the world as saintly and unsmirched Truth-Speakers, in whose +cold-storage souls a lie would freeze to death if it got there! +Why will you humbug yourselves with that foolish notion that no +lie is a lie except a spoken one? What is the difference between +lying with your eyes and lying with your mouth? There is none; +and if you would reflect a moment you would see that it is so. +There isn't a human being that doesn't tell a gross of lies every day +of his life; and you--why, between you, you tell thirty thousand; +yet you flare up here in a lurid hypocritical horror because I +tell that child a benevolent and sinless lie to protect her from +her imagination, which would get to work and warm up her blood to a +fever in an hour, if I were disloyal enough to my duty to let it. +Which I should probably do if I were interested in saving my soul +by such disreputable means. + +"Come, let us reason together. Let us examine details. When you +two were in the sick-room raising that riot, what would you have +done if you had known I was coming?" + +"Well, what?" + +"You would have slipped out and carried Helen with you--wouldn't you?" + +The ladies were silent. + +"What would be your object and intention?" + +"Well, what?" + +"To keep me from finding out your guilt; to beguile me to infer that +Margaret's excitement proceeded from some cause not known to you. +In a word, to tell me a lie--a silent lie. Moreover, a possibly +harmful one." + +The twins colored, but did not speak. + +"You not only tell myriads of silent lies, but you tell lies +with your mouths--you two." + +"THAT is not so!" + +"It is so. But only harmless ones. You never dream of uttering +a harmful one. Do you know that that is a concession--and a confession?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"It is an unconscious concession that harmless lies are not criminal; +it is a confession that you constantly MAKE that discrimination. +For instance, you declined old Mrs. Foster's invitation last week +to meet those odious Higbies at supper--in a polite note in which you +expressed regret and said you were very sorry you could not go. +It was a lie. It was as unmitigated a lie as was ever uttered. +Deny it, Hester--with another lie." + +Hester replied with a toss of her head. + +"That will not do. Answer. Was it a lie, or wasn't it?" + +The color stole into the cheeks of both women, and with a struggle +and an effort they got out their confession: + +"It was a lie." + +"Good--the reform is beginning; there is hope for you yet; +you will not tell a lie to save your dearest friend's soul, but you +will spew out one without a scruple to save yourself the discomfort +of telling an unpleasant truth." + +He rose. Hester, speaking for both, said; coldly: + +"We have lied; we perceive it; it will occur no more. To lie is +a sin. We shall never tell another one of any kind whatsoever, +even lies of courtesy or benevolence, to save any one a pang +or a sorrow decreed for him by God." + +"Ah, how soon you will fall! In fact, you have fallen already; +for what you have just uttered is a lie. Good-by. Reform! +One of you go to the sick-room now." + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Twelve days later. + +Mother and child were lingering in the grip of the hideous disease. +Of hope for either there was little. The aged sisters looked white +and worn, but they would not give up their posts. Their hearts +were breaking, poor old things, but their grit was steadfast +and indestructible. All the twelve days the mother had pined for +the child, and the child for the mother, but both knew that the prayer +of these longings could not be granted. When the mother was told-- +on the first day--that her disease was typhoid, she was frightened, +and asked if there was danger that Helen could have contracted it the +day before, when she was in the sick-chamber on that confession visit. +Hester told her the doctor had poo-pooed the idea. It troubled +Hester to say it, although it was true, for she had not believed +the doctor; but when she saw the mother's joy in the news, the pain +in her conscience lost something of its force--a result which made +her ashamed of the constructive deception which she had practiced, +though not ashamed enough to make her distinctly and definitely +wish she had refrained from it. From that moment the sick woman +understood that her daughter must remain away, and she said she would +reconcile herself to the separation the best she could, for she +would rather suffer death than have her child's health imperiled. +That afternoon Helen had to take to her bed, ill. She grew worse +during the night. In the morning her mother asked after her: + +"Is she well?" + +Hester turned cold; she opened her lips, but the words refused to come. +The mother lay languidly looking, musing, waiting; suddenly she +turned white and gasped out: + +"Oh, my God! what is it? is she sick?" + +Then the poor aunt's tortured heart rose in rebellion, and words came: + +"No--be comforted; she is well." + +The sick woman put all her happy heart in her gratitude: + +"Thank God for those dear words! Kiss me. How I worship you +for saying them!" + +Hester told this incident to Hannah, who received it with +a rebuking look, and said, coldly: + +"Sister, it was a lie." + +Hester's lips trembled piteously; she choked down a sob, and said: + +"Oh, Hannah, it was a sin, but I could not help it. I could not +endure the fright and the misery that were in her face." + +"No matter. It was a lie. God will hold you to account for it." + +"Oh, I know it, I know it," cried Hester, wringing her hands, +"but even if it were now, I could not help it. I know I should do +it again." + +"Then take my place with Helen in the morning. I will make +the report myself." + +Hester clung to her sister, begging and imploring. + +"Don't, Hannah, oh, don't--you will kill her." + +"I will at least speak the truth." + +In the morning she had a cruel report to bear to the mother, +and she braced herself for the trial. When she returned from +her mission, Hester was waiting, pale and trembling, in the hall. +She whispered: + +"Oh, how did she take it--that poor, desolate mother?" + +Hannah's eyes were swimming in tears. She said: + +"God forgive me, I told her the child was well!" + +Hester gathered her to her heart, with a grateful "God bless you, Hannah!" +and poured out her thankfulness in an inundation of worshiping praises. + +After that, the two knew the limit of their strength, and accepted +their fate. They surrendered humbly, and abandoned themselves to the +hard requirements of the situation. Daily they told the morning lie, +and confessed their sin in prayer; not asking forgiveness, as not +being worthy of it, but only wishing to make record that they +realized their wickedness and were not desiring to hide it or excuse it. + +Daily, as the fair young idol of the house sank lower and lower, +the sorrowful old aunts painted her glowing bloom and her fresh young +beauty to the wan mother, and winced under the stabs her ecstasies +of joy and gratitude gave them. + +In the first days, while the child had strength to hold a pencil, +she wrote fond little love-notes to her mother, in which she concealed +her illness; and these the mother read and reread through happy +eyes wet with thankful tears, and kissed them over and over again, +and treasured them as precious things under her pillow. + +Then came a day when the strength was gone from the hand, and the +mind wandered, and the tongue babbled pathetic incoherences. +this was a sore dilemma for the poor aunts. There were no love-notes +for the mother. They did not know what to do. Hester began a +carefully studied and plausible explanation, but lost the track of it +and grew confused; suspicion began to show in the mother's face, +then alarm. Hester saw it, recognized the imminence of the danger, +and descended to the emergency, pulling herself resolutely together +and plucking victor from the open jaws of defeat. In a placid +and convincing voice she said: + +"I thought it might distress you to know it, but Helen spent the night +at the Sloanes'. There was a little party there, and, although she +did not want to go, and you so sick, we persuaded her, she being +young and needing the innocent pastimes of youth, and we believing +you would approve. Be sure she will write the moment she comes." + +"How good you are, and how dear and thoughtful for us both! +Approve? Why, I thank you with all my heart. My poor little exile! +Tell her I want her to have every pleasure she can--I would not rob +her of one. Only let her keep her health, that is all I ask. +Don't let that suffer; I could not bear it. How thankful I am that she +escaped this infection--and what a narrow risk she ran, Aunt Hester! +Think of that lovely face all dulled and burned with fever. +I can't bear the thought of it. Keep her health. Keep her bloom! +I can see her now, the dainty creature--with the big, blue, earnest eyes; +and sweet, oh, so sweet and gentle and winning! Is she as beautiful +as ever, dear Aunt Hester?" + +"Oh, more beautiful and bright and charming than ever she was before, +if such a thing can be"--and Hester turned away and fumbled with +the medicine-bottles, to hide her shame and grief. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +After a little, both aunts were laboring upon a difficult and baffling +work in Helen's chamber. Patiently and earnestly, with their stiff +old fingers, they were trying to forge the required note. They made +failure after failure, but they improved little by little all the time. +The pity of it all, the pathetic humor of it, there was none to see; +they themselves were unconscious of it. Often their tears fell +upon the notes and spoiled them; sometimes a single misformed word +made a note risky which could have been ventured but for that; +but at last Hannah produced one whose script was a good enough +imitation of Helen's to pass any but a suspicious eye, and bountifully +enriched it with the petting phrases and loving nicknames that +had been familiar on the child's lips from her nursery days. +She carried it to the mother, who took it with avidity, and kissed it, +and fondled it, reading its precious words over and over again, +and dwelling with deep contentment upon its closing paragraph: + +"Mousie darling, if I could only see you, and kiss your eyes, +and feel your arms about me! I am so glad my practicing does not +disturb you. Get well soon. Everybody is good to me, but I am +so lonesome without you, dear mamma." + +"The poor child, I know just how she feels. She cannot be quite +happy without me; and I--oh, I live in the light of her eyes! +Tell her she must practice all she pleases; and, Aunt Hannah-- +tell her I can't hear the piano this far, nor hear dear voice +when she sings: God knows I wish I could. No one knows how sweet +that voice is to me; and to think--some day it will be silent! +What are you crying for? + +"Only because--because--it was just a memory. When I came away she +was singing, 'Loch Lomond.' The pathos of it! It always moves +me so when she sings that." + +"And me, too. How heartbreakingly beautiful it is when some youthful +sorrow is brooding in her breast and she sings it for the mystic +healing it brings. . . . Aunt Hannah?" + +"Dear Margaret?" + +"I am very ill. Sometimes it comes over me that I shall never hear +that dear voice again." + +"Oh, don't--don't, Margaret! I can't bear it!" + +Margaret was moved and distressed, and said, gently: + +"There--there--let me put my arms around you. +Don't cry. There--put your cheek to mine. Be comforted. +I wish to live. I will live if I can. Ah, what could she +do without me! . . . Does she often speak of me?--but I know she does." + +"Oh, all the time--all the time!" + +"My sweet child! She wrote the note the moment she came home?" + +"Yes--the first moment. She would not wait to take off her things." + +"I knew it. It is her dear, impulsive, affectionate way. I knew it +without asking, but I wanted to hear you say it. The petted wife +knows she is loved, but she makes her husband tell her so every day, +just for the joy of hearing it. . . . She used the pen this time. +That is better; the pencil-marks could rub out, and I should grieve +for that. Did you suggest that she use the pen?" + +"Y--no--she--it was her own idea. + +The mother looked her pleasure, and said: + +"I was hoping you would say that. There was never such a dear +and thoughtful child! . . . Aunt Hannah?" + +"Dear Margaret?" + +"Go and tell her I think of her all the time, and worship her. +Why--you are crying again. Don't be so worried about me, dear; +I think there is nothing to fear, yet." + +The grieving messenger carried her message, and piously delivered +it to unheeding ears. The girl babbled on unaware; looking up +at her with wondering and startled eyes flaming with fever, +eyes in which was no light of recognition: + +"Are you--no, you are not my mother. I want her--oh, I want her! +She was here a minute ago--I did not see her go. Will she come? will +she come quickly? will she come now? . . . There are so many houses +. . . and they oppress me so . . . and everything whirls and turns +and whirls . . . oh, my head, my head!"--and so she wandered on +and on, in her pain, flitting from one torturing fancy to another, +and tossing her arms about in a weary and ceaseless persecution +of unrest. + +Poor old Hannah wetted the parched lips and softly stroked the +hot brow, murmuring endearing and pitying words, and thanking +the Father of all that the mother was happy and did not know. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Daily the child sank lower and steadily lower towards the grave, +and daily the sorrowing old watchers carried gilded tidings of her +radiant health and loveliness to the happy mother, whose pilgrimage +was also now nearing its end. And daily they forged loving and cheery +notes in the child's hand, and stood by with remorseful consciences +and bleeding hearts, and wept to see the grateful mother devour +them and adore them and treasure them away as things beyond price, +because of their sweet source, and sacred because her child's hand +had touched them. + +At last came that kindly friend who brings healing and peace to all. +The lights were burning low. In the solemn hush which precedes the +dawn vague figures flitted soundless along the dim hall and gathered +silent and awed in Helen's chamber, and grouped themselves about +her bed, for a warning had gone forth, and they knew. The dying +girl lay with closed lids, and unconscious, the drapery upon her +breast faintly rising and falling as her wasting life ebbed away. +At intervals a sigh or a muffled sob broke upon the stillness. +The same haunting thought was in all minds there: the pity of +this death, the going out into the great darkness, and the mother +not here to help and hearten and bless. + +Helen stirred; her hands began to grope wistfully about as if they +sought something--she had been blind some hours. The end was come; +all knew it. With a great sob Hester gathered her to her breast, +crying, "Oh, my child, my darling!" A rapturous light broke in the +dying girl's face, for it was mercifully vouchsafed her to mistake +those sheltering arms for another's; and she went to her rest murmuring, +"Oh, mamma, I am so happy--I longed for you--now I can die." + + +Two hours later Hester made her report. The mother asked: + +"How is it with the child?" + +"She is well." + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +A sheaf of white crape and black was hung upon the door of the house, +and there it swayed and rustled in the wind and whispered its tidings. +At noon the preparation of the dead was finished, and in the +coffin lay the fair young form, beautiful, and in the sweet face +a great peace. Two mourners sat by it, grieving and worshipping-- +Hannah and the black woman Tilly. Hester came, and she was trembling, +for a great trouble was upon her spirit. She said: + +"She asks for a note." + +Hannah's face blanched. She had not thought of this; it had seemed +that that pathetic service was ended. But she realized now that +that could not be. For a little while the two women stood looking +into each other's face, with vacant eyes; then Hannah said: + +"There is no way out of it--she must have it; she will suspect, else." + +"And she would find out." + +"Yes. It would break her heart." She looked at the dead face, +and her eyes filled. "I will write it," she said. + +Hester carried it. The closing line said: + +"Darling Mousie, dear sweet mother, we shall soon be together again. +Is not that good news? And it is true; they all say it is true." + +The mother mourned, saying: + +"Poor child, how will she bear it when she knows? I shall never see +her again in life. It is hard, so hard. She does not suspect? +You guard her from that?" + +"She thinks you will soon be well." + +"How good you are, and careful, dear Aunt Hester! None goes near +herr who could carry the infection?" + +"It would be a crime." + +"But you SEE her?" + +"With a distance between--yes." + +"That is so good. Others one could not trust; but you two guardian +angels--steel is not so true as you. Others would be unfaithful; +and many would deceive, and lie." + +Hester's eyes fell, and her poor old lips trembled. + +"Let me kiss you for her, Aunt Hester; and when I am gone, +and the danger is past, place the kiss upon her dear lips some day, +and say her mother sent it, and all her mother's broken heart is +in it." + +Within the hour, Hester, raining tears upon the dead face, +performed her pathetic mission. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Another day dawned, and grew, and spread its sunshine in the earth. +Aunt Hannah brought comforting news to the failing mother, and a +happy note, which said again, "We have but a little time to wait, +darling mother, then se shall be together." + +The deep note of a bell came moaning down the wind. + +"Aunt Hannah, it is tolling. Some poor soul is at rest. +As I shall be soon. You will not let her forget me?" + +"Oh, God knows she never will!" + +"Do not you hear strange noises, Aunt Hannah? It sounds like +the shuffling of many feet." + +"We hoped you would not hear it, dear. It is a little company +gathering, for--for Helen's sake, poor little prisoner. There will +be music--and she loves it so. We thought you would not mind." + +"Mind? Oh no, no--oh, give her everything her dear heart can desire. +How good you two are to her, and how good to me! God bless you +both always!" + +After a listening pause: + +"How lovely! It is her organ. Is she playing it herself, do you think?" +Faint and rich and inspiring the chords floating to her ears on +the still air. "Yes, it is her touch, dear heart, I recognize it. +They are singing. Why--it is a hymn! and the sacredest of all, +the most touching, the most consoling. . . . It seems to open +the gates of paradise to me. . . . If I could die now. . . ." + +Faint and far the words rose out of the stillness: + + +Nearer, my God, to Thee, + +Nearer to Thee, + +E'en though it be a cross + +That raiseth me. + + +With the closing of the hymn another soul passed to its rest, +and they that had been one in life were not sundered in death. +The sisters, mourning and rejoicing, said: + +"How blessed it was that she never knew!" + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +At midnight they sat together, grieving, and the angel of the Lord +appeared in the midst transfigured with a radiance not of earth; +and speaking, said: + +"For liars a place is appointed. There they burn in the fires +of hell from everlasting unto everlasting. Repent!" + +The bereaved fell upon their knees before him and clasped their +hands and bowed their gray heads, adoring. But their tongues +clove to the roof of their mouths, and they were dumb. + +"Speak! that I may bear the message to the chancery of heaven +and bring again the decree from which there is no appeal." + +Then they bowed their heads yet lower, and one said: + +"Our sin is great, and we suffer shame; but only perfect and final +repentance can make us whole; and we are poor creatures who have learned +our human weakness, and we know that if we were in those hard straits +again our hearts would fail again, and we should sin as before. +The strong could prevail, and so be saved, but we are lost." + +They lifted their heads in supplication. The angel was gone. +While they marveled and wept he came again; and bending low, +he whispered the decree. + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Was it Heaven? Or Hell? + + +*** + + + +A CURE FOR THE BLUES + + + +By courtesy of Mr. Cable I came into possession of a singular book +eight or ten years ago. It is likely that mine is now the only copy +in existence. Its title-page, unabbreviated, reads as follows: + +"The Enemy Conquered; or, Love Triumphant. By G. Ragsdale McClintock, +[1] author of 'An Address,' etc., delivered at Sunflower Hill, +South Carolina, and member of the Yale Law School. New Haven: +published by T. H. Pease, 83 Chapel Street, 1845." + +No one can take up this book and lay it down again unread. +Whoever reads one line of it is caught, is chained; he has become +the contented slave of its fascinations; and he will read and read, +devour and devour, and will not let it go out of his hand till it +is finished to the last line, though the house be on fire over +his head. And after a first reading he will not throw it aside, +but will keep it by him, with his Shakespeare and his Homer, +and will take it up many and many a time, when the world is dark +and his spirits are low, and be straightway cheered and refreshed. +Yet this work has been allowed to lie wholly neglected, unmentioned, +and apparently unregretted, for nearly half a century. + +The reader must not imagine that he is to find in it wisdom, +brilliancy, fertility of invention, ingenuity of construction, +excellence of form, purity of style, perfection of imagery, +truth to nature, clearness of statement, humanly possible situations, +humanly possible people, fluent narrative, connected sequence of events-- +or philosophy, or logic, or sense. No; the rich, deep, beguiling charm +of the book lies in the total and miraculous ABSENCE from it of all +these qualities--a charm which is completed and perfected by the +evident fact that the author, whose naive innocence easily and surely +wins our regard, and almost our worship, does not know that they +are absent, does not even suspect that they are absent. When read +by the light of these helps to an understanding of the situation, +the book is delicious--profoundly and satisfyingly delicious. + +I call it a book because the author calls it a book, I call it a work +because he calls it a work; but, in truth, it is merely a duodecimo +pamphlet of thirty-one pages. It was written for fame and money, +as the author very frankly--yes, and very hopefully, too, poor fellow-- +says in his preface. The money never came--no penny of it ever came; +and how long, how pathetically long, the fame has been deferred-- +forty-seven years! He was young then, it would have been so much to +him then; but will he care for it now? + +As time is measured in America, McClintock's epoch is antiquity. +In his long-vanished day the Southern author had a passion for +"eloquence"; it was his pet, his darling. He would be eloquent, +or perish. And he recognized only one kind of eloquence--the lurid, +the tempestuous, the volcanic. He liked words--big words, +fine words, grand words, rumbling, thundering, reverberating words; +with sense attaching if it could be got in without marring the sound, +but not otherwise. He loved to stand up before a dazed world, +and pour forth flame and smoke and lava and pumice-stone into +the skies, and work his subterranean thunders, and shake himself +with earthquakes, and stench himself with sulphur fumes. If he +consumed his own fields and vineyards, that was a pity, yes; but he +would have his eruption at any cost. Mr. McClintock's eloquence-- +and he is always eloquent, his crater is always spouting--is of the +pattern common to his day, but he departs from the custom of the time +in one respect: his brethren allowed sense to intrude when it did +not mar the sound, but he does not allow it to intrude at all. +For example, consider this figure, which he used in the village +"Address" referred to with such candid complacency in the title-page +above quoted--"like the topmost topaz of an ancient tower." +Please read it again; contemplate it; measure it; walk around it; +climb up it; try to get at an approximate realization of the size of it. +Is the fellow to that to be found in literature, ancient or modern, +foreign or domestic, living or dead, drunk or sober? One notices +how fine and grand it sounds. We know that if it was loftily uttered, +it got a noble burst of applause from the villagers; yet there isn't +a ray of sense in it, or meaning to it. + +McClintock finished his education at Yale in 1843, and came to +Hartford on a visit that same year. I have talked with men who at +that time talked with him, and felt of him, and knew he was real. +One needs to remember that fact and to keep fast hold of it; +it is the only way to keep McClintock's book from undermining one's +faith in McClintock's actuality. + +As to the book. The first four pages are devoted to an inflamed eulogy +of Woman--simply woman in general, or perhaps as an institution-- +wherein, among other compliments to her details, he pays a unique +one to her voice. He says it "fills the breast with fond alarms, +echoed by every rill." It sounds well enough, but it is not true. +After the eulogy he takes up his real work and the novel begins. +It begins in the woods, near the village of Sunflower Hill. + + +Brightening clouds seemed to rise from the mist of the fair Chattahoochee, +to spread their beauty over the thick forest, to guide the hero whose +bosom beats with aspirations to conquer the enemy that would tarnish +his name, and to win back the admiration of his long-tried friend. + + +It seems a general remark, but it is not general; the hero mentioned +is the to-be hero of the book; and in this abrupt fashion, +and without name or description, he is shoveled into the tale. +"With aspirations to conquer the enemy that would tarnish his name" +is merely a phrase flung in for the sake of the sound--let it +not mislead the reader. No one is trying to tarnish this person; +no one has thought of it. The rest of the sentence is also merely +a phrase; the man has no friend as yet, and of course has had no +chance to try him, or win back his admiration, or disturb him in any +other way. + +The hero climbs up over "Sawney's Mountain," and down the other side, +making for an old Indian "castle"--which becomes "the red man's hut" +in the next sentence; and when he gets there at last, he "surveys +with wonder and astonishment" the invisible structure, "which time +has buried in the dust, and thought to himself his happiness was +not yet complete." One doesn't know why it wasn't, nor how near it +came to being complete, nor what was still wanting to round it up +and make it so. Maybe it was the Indian; but the book does not say. +At this point we have an episode: + + +Beside the shore of the brook sat a young man, about eighteen or twenty, +who seemed to be reading some favorite book, and who had a remarkably +noble countenance--eyes which betrayed more than a common mind. +This of course made the youth a welcome guest, and gained him +friends in whatever condition of his life he might be placed. +The traveler observed that he was a well-built figure which showed +strength and grace in every movement. He accordingly addressed +him in quite a gentlemanly manner, and inquired of him the way +to the village. After he had received the desired information, +and was about taking his leave, the youth said, "Are you not +Major Elfonzo, the great musician [2]--the champion of a noble cause-- +the modern Achilles, who gained so many victories in the Florida War?" +"I bear that name," said the Major, "and those titles, +trusting at the same time that the ministers of grace will carry +me triumphantly through all my laudable undertakings, and if," +continued the Major, "you, sir, are the patronizer of noble deeds, +I should like to make you my confidant and learn your address." +The youth looked somewhat amazed, bowed low, mused for a moment, +and began: "My name is Roswell. I have been recently admitted +to the bar, and can only give a faint outline of my future success +in that honorable profession; but I trust, sir, like the Eagle, I shall +look down from the lofty rocks upon the dwellings of man, and shall +ever be ready to give you any assistance in my official capacity, +and whatever this muscular arm of mine can do, whenever it shall be +called from its buried GREATNESS." The Major grasped him by the hand, +and exclaimed: "O! thou exalted spirit of inspiration--thou flame +of burning prosperity, may the Heaven-directed blaze be the glare +of thy soul, and battle down every rampart that seems to impede +your progress!" + + +There is a strange sort of originality about McClintock; +he imitates other people's styles, but nobody can imitate his, +not even an idiot. Other people can be windy, but McClintock blows +a gale; other people can blubber sentiment, but McClintock spews it; +other people can mishandle metaphors, but only McClintock knows +how to make a business of it. McClintock is always McClintock, +he is always consistent, his style is always his own style. He does +not make the mistake of being relevant on one page and irrelevant +on another; he is irrelevant on all of them. He does not make +the mistake of being lucid in one place and obscure in another; +he is obscure all the time. He does not make the mistake of slipping +in a name here and there that is out of character with his work; +he always uses names that exactly and fantastically fit his lunatics. +In the matter of undeviating consistency he stands alone in authorship. +It is this that makes his style unique, and entitles it to a name +of its own--McClintockian. It is this that protects it from being +mistaken for anybody else's. Uncredited quotations from other writers +often leave a reader in doubt as to their authorship, but McClintock +is safe from that accident; an uncredited quotation from him would +always be recognizable. When a boy nineteen years old, who had +just been admitted to the bar, says, "I trust, sir, like the Eagle, +I shall look down from lofty rocks upon the dwellings of man," +we know who is speaking through that boy; we should recognize +that note anywhere. There be myriads of instruments in this +world's literary orchestra, and a multitudinous confusion of sounds +that they make, wherein fiddles are drowned, and guitars smothered, +and one sort of drum mistaken for another sort; but whensoever the +brazen note of the McClintockian trombone breaks through that fog +of music, that note is recognizable, and about it there can be no blur +of doubt. + +The novel now arrives at the point where the Major goes home to see +his father. When McClintock wrote this interview he probably +believed it was pathetic. + + +The road which led to the town presented many attractions Elfonzo +had bid farewell to the youth of deep feeling, and was now wending +his way to the dreaming spot of his fondness. The south winds +whistled through the woods, as the waters dashed against the banks, +as rapid fire in the pent furnace roars. This brought him to +remember while alone, that he quietly left behind the hospitality +of a father's house, and gladly entered the world, with higher hopes +than are often realized. But as he journeyed onward, he was mindful +of the advice of his father, who had often looked sadly on the ground, +when tears of cruelly deceived hope moistened his eyes. Elfonzo had +been somewhat a dutiful son; yet fond of the amusements of life-- +had been in distant lands--had enjoyed the pleasure of the world, +and had frequently returned to the scenes of his boyhood, +almost destitute of many of the comforts of life. In this condition, +he would frequently say to his father, "Have I offended you, +that you look upon me as a stranger, and frown upon me with +stinging looks? Will you not favor me with the sound of your voice? +If I have trampled upon your veneration, or have spread a humid veil +of darkness around your expectations, send me back into the world, +where no heart beats for me--where the foot of man had never yet trod; +but give me at least one kind word--allow me to come into the presence +sometimes of thy winter-worn locks." "Forbid it, Heaven, that I +should be angry with thee," answered the father, "my son, and yet +I send thee back to the children of the world--to the cold charity +of the combat, and to a land of victory. I read another destiny +in thy countenance--I learn thy inclinations from the flame that has +already kindled in my soul a strange sensation. It will seek thee, +my dear ELFONZO, it will find thee--thou canst not escape that +lighted torch, which shall blot out from the remembrance of men +a long train of prophecies which they have foretold against thee. +I once thought not so. Once, I was blind; but now the path of life +is plain before me, and my sight is clear; yet, Elfonzo, return to thy +worldly occupation--take again in thy hand that chord of sweet sounds-- +struggle with the civilized world and with your own heart; +fly swiftly to the enchanted ground--let the night-OWL send forth +its screams from the stubborn oak--let the sea sport upon the beach, +and the stars sing together; but learn of these, Elfonzo, thy doom, +and thy hiding-place. Our most innocent as well as our most lawful +DESIRES must often be denied us, that we may learn to sacrifice them +to a Higher will." + +Remembering such admonitions with gratitude, Elfonzo was immediately +urged by the recollection of his father's family to keep moving. + + +McClintock has a fine gift in the matter of surprises; but as a +rule they are not pleasant ones, they jar upon the feelings. +His closing sentence in the last quotation is of that sort. +It brings one down out of the tinted clouds in too sudden and collapsed +a fashion. It incenses one against the author for a moment. +It makes the reader want to take him by this winter-worn locks, +and trample on his veneration, and deliver him over to the cold +charity of combat, and blot him out with his own lighted torch. +But the feeling does not last. The master takes again in his hand that +concord of sweet sounds of his, and one is reconciled, pacified. + + +His steps became quicker and quicker--he hastened through the PINY woods, +dark as the forest was, and with joy he very soon reached the little +village of repose, in whose bosom rested the boldest chivalry. +His close attention to every important object--his modest questions +about whatever was new to him--his reverence for wise old age, +and his ardent desire to learn many of the fine arts, soon brought +him into respectable notice. + +One mild winter day, as he walked along the streets toward the Academy, +which stood upon a small eminence, surrounded by native growth-- +some venerable in its appearance, others young and prosperous-- +all seemed inviting, and seemed to be the very place for learning as +well as for genius to spend its research beneath its spreading shades. +He entered its classic walls in the usual mode of southern manners. + + +The artfulness of this man! None knows so well as he how to pique +the curiosity of the reader--and how to disappoint it. He raises +the hope, here, that he is going to tell all about how one enters +a classic wall in the usual mode of Southern manners; but does he? +No; he smiles in his sleeve, and turns aside to other matters. + + +The principal of the Institution begged him to be seated and listen +to the recitations that were going on. He accordingly obeyed +the request, and seemed to be much pleased. After the school +was dismissed, and the young hearts regained their freedom, +with the songs of the evening, laughing at the anticipated pleasures +of a happy home, while others tittered at the actions of the past day, +he addressed the teacher in a tone that indicated a resolution-- +with an undaunted mind. He said he had determined to become +a student, if he could meet with his approbation. "Sir," said he, +"I have spent much time in the world. I have traveled among +the uncivilized inhabitants of America. I have met with friends, +and combated with foes; but none of these gratify my ambition, +or decide what is to be my destiny. I see the learned world +have an influence with the voice of the people themselves. +The despoilers of the remotest kingdoms of the earth refer their +differences to this class of persons. This the illiterate and +inexperienced little dream of; and now if you will receive me as I am, +with these deficiencies--with all my misguided opinions, I will give +you my honor, sir, that I will never disgrace the Institution, +or those who have placed you in this honorable station." +The instructor, who had met with many disappointments, knew how to +feel for a stranger who had been thus turned upon the charities +of an unfeeling community. He looked at him earnestly, and said: +"Be of good cheer--look forward, sir, to the high destination you +may attain. Remember, the more elevated the mark at which you aim, +the more sure, the more glorious, the more magnificent the prize." +From wonder to wonder, his encouragement led the impatient listener. +A strange nature bloomed before him--giant streams promised +him success--gardens of hidden treasures opened to his view. +All this, so vividly described, seemed to gain a new witchery from his +glowing fancy. + + +It seems to me that this situation is new in romance. I feel +sure it has not been attempted before. Military celebrities have +been disguised and set at lowly occupations for dramatic effect, +but I think McClintock is the first to send one of them to school. +Thus, in this book, you pass from wonder to wonder, through gardens +of hidden treasure, where giant streams bloom before you, +and behind you, and all around, and you feel as happy, and groggy, +and satisfied with your quart of mixed metaphor aboard as you would +if it had been mixed in a sample-room and delivered from a jug. + +Now we come upon some more McClintockian surprise--a sweetheart +who is sprung upon us without any preparation, along with a name +for her which is even a little more of a surprise than she herself is. + + +In 1842 he entered the class, and made rapid progress in the English +and Latin departments. Indeed, he continued advancing with such +rapidity that he was like to become the first in his class, +and made such unexpected progress, and was so studious, that he had +almost forgotten the pictured saint of his affections. The fresh +wreaths of the pine and cypress had waited anxiously to drop once +more the dews of Heaven upon the heads of those who had so often +poured forth the tender emotions of their souls under its boughs. +He was aware of the pleasure that he had seen there. So one evening ,as +he was returning from his reading, he concluded he would pay a visit +to this enchanting spot. Little did he think of witnessing a shadow +of his former happiness, though no doubt he wished it might be so. +He continued sauntering by the roadside, meditating on the past. +The nearer he approached the spot, the more anxious he became. +At that moment a tall female figure flitted across his path, with a +bunch of roses in her hand; her countenance showed uncommon vivacity, +with a resolute spirit; her ivory teeth already appeared as she +smiled beautifully, promenading--while her ringlets of hair dangled +unconsciously around her snowy neck. Nothing was wanting to complete +her beauty. The tinge of the rose was in full bloom upon her cheek; +the charms of sensibility and tenderness were always her associates. +In Ambulinia's bosom dwelt a noble soul--one that never faded-- +one that never was conquered. + + +Ambulinia! It can hardly be matched in fiction. The full name +is Ambulinia Valeer. Marriage will presently round it out and +perfect it. Then it will be Mrs. Ambulinia Valeer Elfonzo. +It takes the chromo. + + +Her heart yielded to no feeling but the love of Elfonzo, on whom +she gazed with intense delight, and to whom she felt herself +more closely bound, because he sought the hand of no other. +Elfonzo was roused from his apparent reverie. His books no longer +were his inseparable companions--his thoughts arrayed themselves +to encourage him to the field of victory. He endeavored to speak +to his supposed Ambulinia, but his speech appeared not in words. +No, his effort was a stream of fire, that kindled his soul into +a flame of admiration, and carried his senses away captive. +Ambulinia had disappeared, to make him more mindful of his duty. +As she walked speedily away through the piny woods, she calmly echoed: +"O! Elfonzo, thou wilt now look from thy sunbeams. Thou shalt +now walk in a new path--perhaps thy way leads through darkness; +but fear not, the stars foretell happiness." + + +To McClintock that jingling jumble of fine words meant something, +no doubt, or seemed to mean something; but it is useless for us to try +to divine what it was. Ambulinia comes--we don't know whence nor why; +she mysteriously intimates--we don't know what; and then she goes +echoing away--we don't know whither; and down comes the curtain. +McClintock's art is subtle; McClintock's art is deep. + + +Not many days afterward, as surrounded by fragrant flowers she sat +one evening at twilight, to enjoy the cool breeze that whispered +notes of melody along the distant groves, the little birds perched +on every side, as if to watch the movements of their new visitor. +The bells were tolling, when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild +wood flowers, holding in his hand his favorite instrument of music-- +his eye continually searching for Ambulinia, who hardly seemed +to perceive him, as she played carelessly with the songsters +that hopped from branch to branch. Nothing could be more striking +than the difference between the two. Nature seemed to have given +the more tender soul to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous +to Ambulinia. A deep feeling spoke from the eyes of Elfonzo-- +such a feeling as can only be expressed by those who are blessed +as admirers, and by those who are able to return the same with +sincerity of heart. He was a few years older than Ambulinia: +she had turned a little into her seventeenth. He had almost grown +up in the Cherokee country, with the same equal proportions as one +of the natives. But little intimacy had existed between them until +the year forty-one--because the youth felt that the character of such +a lovely girl was too exalted to inspire any other feeling than +that of quiet reverence. But as lovers will not always be insulted, +at all times and under all circumstances, by the frowns and cold +looks of crabbed old age, which should continually reflect dignity +upon those around, and treat the unfortunate as well as the fortunate +with a graceful mien, he continued to use diligence and perseverance. +All this lighted a spark in his heart that changed his whole character, +and like the unyielding Deity that follows the storm to check its +rage in the forest, he resolves for the first time to shake off +his embarrassment and return where he had before only worshiped. + + +At last we begin to get the Major's measure. We are able to put +this and that casual fact together, and build the man up before +our eyes, and look at him. And after we have got him built, we find +him worth the trouble. By the above comparison between his age +and Ambulinia's, we guess the war-worn veteran to be twenty-two; +and the other facts stand thus: he had grown up in the Cherokee +country with the same equal proportions as one of the natives-- +how flowing and graceful the language, and yet how tantalizing +as to meaning!--he had been turned adrift by his father, to whom he +had been "somewhat of a dutiful son"; he wandered in distant lands; +came back frequently "to the scenes of his boyhood, almost destitute +of many of the comforts of life," in order to get into the presence +of his father's winter-worn locks, and spread a humid veil of +darkness around his expectations; but he was always promptly sent +back to the cold charity of the combat again; he learned to play +the fiddle, and made a name for himself in that line; he had dwelt +among the wild tribes; he had philosophized about the despoilers +of the kingdoms of the earth, and found out--the cunning creature-- +that they refer their differences to the learned for settlement; +he had achieved a vast fame as a military chieftain, the Achilles +of the Florida campaigns, and then had got him a spelling-book +and started to school; he had fallen in love with Ambulinia Valeer +while she was teething, but had kept it to himself awhile, out of +the reverential awe which he felt for the child; but now at last, +like the unyielding Deity who follows the storm to check its rage in +the forest, he resolves to shake off his embarrassment, and to return +where before he had only worshiped. The Major, indeed, has made up +his mind to rise up and shake his faculties together, and to see +if HE can't do that thing himself. This is not clear. But no matter +about that: there stands the hero, compact and visible; and he is +no mean structure, considering that his creator had never structure, +considering that his creator had never created anything before, +and hadn't anything but rags and wind to build with this time. +It seems to me that no one can contemplate this odd creature, this quaint +and curious blatherskite, without admiring McClintock, or, at any rate, +loving him and feeling grateful to him; for McClintock made him, +he gave him to us; without McClintock we could not have had him, +and would now be poor. + +But we must come to the feast again. Here is a courtship scene, down +there in the romantic glades among the raccoons, alligators, and things, +that has merit, peculiar literary merit. See how Achilles woos. +Dwell upon the second sentence (particularly the close of it) and the +beginning of the third. Never mind the new personage, Leos, who is +intruded upon us unheralded and unexplained. That is McClintock's way; +it is his habit; it is a part of his genius; he cannot help it; +he never interrupts the rush of his narrative to make introductions. + + +It could not escape Ambulinia's penetrating eye that he sought +an interview with her, which she as anxiously avoided, and assumed +a more distant calmness than before, seemingly to destroy all hope. +After many efforts and struggles with his own person, with timid +steps the Major approached the damsel, with the same caution +as he would have done in a field of battle. "Lady Ambulinia," +said he, trembling, "I have long desired a moment like this. +I dare not let it escape. I fear the consequences; yet I hope +your indulgence will at least hear my petition. Can you not +anticipate what I would say, and what I am about to express? +Will not you, like Minerva, who sprung from the brain of Jupiter, +release me from thy winding chains or cure me--" "Say no more, +Elfonzo," answered Ambulinia, with a serious look, raising her hand +as if she intended to swear eternal hatred against the whole world; +"another lady in my place would have perhaps answered your question +in bitter coldness. I know not the little arts of my sex. +I care but little for the vanity of those who would chide me, +and am unwilling as well as ashamed to be guilty of anything +that would lead you to think 'all is not gold that glitters'; +so be no rash in your resolution. It is better to repent now, +than to do it in a more solemn hour. Yes, I know what you would say. +I know you have a costly gift for me--the noblest that man can make-- +YOUR HEART! You should not offer it to one so unworthy. +Heaven, you know, has allowed my father's house to be made a house +of solitude, a home of silent obedience, which my parents say +is more to be admired than big names and high-sounding titles. +Notwithstanding all this, let me speak the emotions of an honest heart-- +allow me to say in the fullness of my hopes that I anticipate +better days. The bird may stretch its wings toward the sun, +which it can never reach; and flowers of the field appear to +ascend in the same direction, because they cannot do otherwise; +but man confides his complaints to the saints in whom he believes; +for in their abodes of light they know no more sorrow. From your +confession and indicative looks, I must be that person; if so deceive +not yourself." + +Elfonzo replied, "Pardon me, my dear madam, for my frankness. +I have loved you from my earliest days--everything grand and beautiful +hath borne the image of Ambulinia; while precipices on every hand +surrounded me, your GUARDIAN ANGEL stood and beckoned me away from +the deep abyss. In every trial, in every misfortune, I have met +with your helping hand; yet I never dreamed or dared to cherish +thy love, till a voice impaired with age encouraged the cause, +and declared they who acquired thy favor should win a victory. +I saw how Leos worshiped thee. I felt my own unworthiness. +I began to KNOW JEALOUSLY, a strong guest--indeed, in my bosom,-- +yet I could see if I gained your admiration Leos was to be my rival. +I was aware that he had the influence of your parents, and the wealth +of a deceased relative, which is too often mistaken for permanent +and regular tranquillity; yet I have determined by your permission +to beg an interest in your prayers--to ask you to animate my drooping +spirits by your smiles and your winning looks; for if you but speak +I shall be conqueror, my enemies shall stagger like Olympus shakes. +And though earth and sea may tremble, and the charioteer of the sun +may forget his dashing steed, yet I am assured that it is only +to arm me with divine weapons which will enable me to complete my +long-tried intention." + +"Return to yourself, Elfonzo," said Ambulinia, pleasantly: "a dream +of vision has disturbed your intellect; you are above the atmosphere, +dwelling in the celestial regions; nothing is there that urges +or hinders, nothing that brings discord into our present litigation. +I entreat you to condescend a little, and be a man, and forget it all. +When Homer describes the battle of the gods and noble men fighting +with giants and dragons, they represent under this image our struggles +with the delusions of our passions. You have exalted me, an unhappy girl, +to the skies; you have called me a saint, and portrayed in your +imagination an angel in human form. Let her remain such to you, +let her continue to be as you have supposed, and be assured that she +will consider a share in your esteem as her highest treasure. +Think not that I would allure you from the path in which your +conscience leads you; for you know I respect the conscience of others, +as I would die for my own. Elfonzo, if I am worthy of thy love, +let such conversation never again pass between us. Go, seek a nobler +theme! we will seek it in the stream of time, as the sun set in +the Tigris." As she spake these words she grasped the hand of Elfonzo, +saying at the same time--"Peace and prosperity attend you, my hero; +be up and doing!" Closing her remarks with this expression, +she walked slowly away, leaving Elfonzo astonished and amazed. +He ventured not to follow or detain her. Here he stood alone, +gazing at the stars; confounded as he was, here he stood. + + +Yes; there he stood. There seems to be no doubt about that. +Nearly half of this delirious story has now been delivered to the reader. +It seems a pity to reduce the other half to a cold synopsis. +Pity! it is more than a pity, it is a crime; for to synopsize McClintock +is to reduce a sky-flushing conflagration to dull embers, it is to +reduce barbaric splendor to ragged poverty. McClintock never wrote +a line that was not precious; he never wrote one that could be spared; +he never framed one from which a word could be removed without damage. +Every sentence that this master has produced may be likened to a +perfect set of teeth, white, uniform, beautiful. If you pull one, +the charm is gone. + +Still, it is now necessary to begin to pull, and to keep it up; +for lack of space requires us to synopsize. + +We left Elfonzo standing there amazed. At what, we do not know. +Not at the girl's speech. No; we ourselves should have been +amazed at it, of course, for none of us has ever heard anything +resembling it; but Elfonzo was used to speeches made up of noise +and vacancy, and could listen to them with undaunted mind like +the "topmost topaz of an ancient tower"; he was used to making +them himself; he--but let it go, it cannot be guessed out; we shall +never know what it was that astonished him. He stood there awhile; +then he said, "Alas! am I now Grief's disappointed son at last?" +He did not stop to examine his mind, and to try to find out what +he probably meant by that, because, for one reason, "a mixture +of ambition and greatness of soul moved upon his young heart," +and started him for the village. He resumed his bench in school, +"and reasonably progressed in his education." His heart was heavy, +but he went into society, and sought surcease of sorrow in its +light distractions. He made himself popular with his violin, +"which seemed to have a thousand chords--more symphonious than the +Muses of Apollo, and more enchanting than the ghost of the Hills." +This is obscure, but let it go. + +During this interval Leos did some unencouraged courting, but at last, +"choked by his undertaking," he desisted. + +Presently "Elfonzo again wends his way to the stately walls and +new-built village." He goes to the house of his beloved; she opens +the door herself. To my surprise--for Ambulinia's heart had still +seemed free at the time of their last interview--love beamed from the +girl's eyes. One sees that Elfonzo was surprised, too; for when he caught +that light, "a halloo of smothered shouts ran through every vein." +A neat figure--a very neat figure, indeed! Then he kissed her. +"The scene was overwhelming." They went into the parlor. The girl +said it was safe, for her parents were abed, and would never know. +Then we have this fine picture--flung upon the canvas with hardly +an effort, as you will notice. + + +Advancing toward him, she gave a bright display of her rosy neck, +and from her head the ambrosial locks breathed divine fragrance; +her robe hung waving to his view, while she stood like a goddess +confessed before him. + + +There is nothing of interest in the couple's interview. Now at this +point the girl invites Elfonzo to a village show, where jealousy is +the motive of the play, for she wants to teach him a wholesome lesson, +if he is a jealous person. But this is a sham, and pretty shallow. +McClintock merely wants a pretext to drag in a plagiarism of his upon +a scene or two in "Othello." + +The lovers went to the play. Elfonzo was one of the fiddlers. +He and Ambulinia must not been seen together, lest trouble follow with +the girl's malignant father; we are made to understand that clearly. +So the two sit together in the orchestra, in the midst of the musicians. +This does not seem to be good art. In the first place, the girl would +be in the way, for orchestras are always packed closely together, +and there is no room to spare for people's girls; in the next place, +one cannot conceal a girl in an orchestra without everybody taking +notice of it. There can be no doubt, it seems to me, that this is +bad art. + +Leos is present. Of course, one of the first things that catches +his eye is the maddening spectacle of Ambulinia "leaning upon +Elfonzo's chair." This poor girl does not seem to understand even +the rudiments of concealment. But she is "in her seventeenth," +as the author phrases it, and that is her justification. + +Leos meditates, constructs a plan--with personal violence as a basis, +of course. It was their way down there. It is a good plain plan, +without any imagination in it. He will go out and stand at the +front door, and when these two come out he will "arrest Ambulinia +from the hands of the insolent Elfonzo," and thus make for himself +a "more prosperous field of immortality than ever was decreed +by Omnipotence, or ever pencil drew or artist imagined." But, dear me, +while he is waiting there the couple climb out at the back window +and scurry home! This is romantic enough, but there is a lack +of dignity in the situation. + +At this point McClintock puts in the whole of his curious play-- +which we skip. + +Some correspondence follows now. The bitter father and the +distressed lovers write the letters. Elopements are attempted. +They are idiotically planned, and they fail. Then we have several +pages of romantic powwow and confusion dignifying nothing. +Another elopement is planned; it is to take place on Sunday, +when everybody is at church. But the "hero" cannot keep the secret; +he tells everybody. Another author would have found another +instrument when he decided to defeat this elopement; but that is +not McClintock's way. He uses the person that is nearest at hand. + +The evasion failed, of course. Ambulinia, in her flight, +takes refuge in a neighbor's house. Her father drags her home. +The villagers gather, attracted by the racket. + + +Elfonzo was moved at this sight. The people followed on to see +what was going to become of Ambulinia, while he, with downcast looks, +kept at a distance, until he saw them enter the abode of the father, +thrusting her, that was the sigh of his soul, out of his presence +into a solitary apartment, when she exclaimed, "Elfonzo! Elfonzo! oh, +Elfonzo! where art thou, with all thy heroes? haste, oh! haste, +come thou to my relief. Ride on the wings of the wind! Turn thy +force loose like a tempest, and roll on thy army like a whirlwind, +over this mountain of trouble and confusion. Oh friends! if any +pity me, let your last efforts throng upon the green hills, +and come to the relief of Ambulinia, who is guilty of nothing +but innocent love." Elfonzo called out with a loud voice, "My God, +can I stand this! arouse up, I beseech you, and put an end to +this tyranny. Come, my brave boys," said he, "are you ready to go +forth to your duty?" They stood around him. "Who," said he, +"will call us to arms? Where are my thunderbolts of war? Speak ye, +the first who will meet the foe! Who will go forward with me +in this ocean of grievous temptation? If there is one who desires +to go, let him come and shake hands upon the altar of devotion, +and swear that he will be a hero; yes, a Hector in a cause like this, +which calls aloud for a speedy remedy." "Mine be the deed," +said a young lawyer, "and mine alone; Venus alone shall quit her +station before I will forsake one jot or tittle of my promise to you; +what is death to me? what is all this warlike army, if it is not +to win a victory? I love the sleep of the lover and the mighty; +nor would I give it over till the blood of my enemies should wreak +with that of my own. But God forbid that our fame should soar +on the blood of the slumberer." Mr. Valeer stands at his door +with the frown of a demon upon his brow, with his dangerous weapon +[3] ready to strike the first man who should enter his door. +"Who will arise and go forward through blood and carnage to the rescue +of my Ambulinia?" said Elfonzo. "All," exclaimed the multitude; +and onward they went, with their implements of battle. Others, of a +more timid nature, stood among the distant hills to see the result of +the contest. + + +It will hardly be believed that after all this thunder and lightning +not a drop of rain fell; but such is the fact. Elfonzo and his +gang stood up and black-guarded Mr. Valeer with vigor all night, +getting their outlay back with interest; then in the early +morning the army and its general retired from the field, +leaving the victory with their solitary adversary and his crowbar. +This is the first time this has happened in romantic literature. +The invention is original. Everything in this book is original; +there is nothing hackneyed about it anywhere. Always, in other +romances, when you find the author leading up to a climax, +you know what is going to happen. But in this book it is different; +the thing which seems inevitable and unavoidable never happens; +it is circumvented by the art of the author every time. + +Another elopement was attempted. It failed. + +We have now arrived at the end. But it is not exciting. +McClintock thinks it is; but it isn't. One day Elfonzo sent Ambulinia +another note--a note proposing elopement No. 16. This time the plan +is admirable; admirable, sagacious, ingenious, imaginative, deep-- +oh, everything, and perfectly easy. One wonders why it was never +thought of before. This is the scheme. Ambulinia is to leave the +breakfast-table, ostensibly to "attend to the placing of those flowers, +which should have been done a week ago"--artificial ones, of course; +the others wouldn't keep so long--and then, instead of fixing +the flowers, she is to walk out to the grove, and go off with Elfonzo. +The invention of this plan overstrained the author that is plain, +for he straightway shows failing powers. The details of the plan +are not many or elaborate. The author shall state them himself-- +this good soul, whose intentions are always better than his English: + + +"You walk carelessly toward the academy grove, where you will find +me with a lightning steed, elegantly equipped to bear you off +where we shall be joined in wedlock with the first connubial rights." + + +Last scene of all, which the author, now much enfeebled, +tries to smarten up and make acceptable to his spectacular heart +by introducing some new properties--silver bow, golden harp, +olive branch--things that can all come good in an elopement, +no doubt, yet are not to be compared to an umbrella for real +handiness and reliability in an excursion of that kind. + + +And away she ran to the sacred grove, surrounded with glittering pearls, +that indicated her coming. Elfonzo hails her with his silver bow +and his golden harp. The meet--Ambulinia's countenance brightens-- +Elfonzo leads up the winged steed. "Mount," said he, "ye true-hearted, +ye fearless soul--the day is ours." She sprang upon the back +of the young thunderbolt, a brilliant star sparkles upon her head, +with one hand she grasps the reins, and with the other she holds +an olive branch. "Lend thy aid, ye strong winds," they exclaimed, +"ye moon, ye sun, and all ye fair host of heaven, witness the +enemy conquered." "Hold," said Elfonzo, "thy dashing steed." +"Ride on," said Ambulinia, "the voice of thunder is behind us." +And onward they went, with such rapidity that they very soon arrived +at Rural Retreat, where they dismounted, and were united with all +the solemnities that usually attended such divine operations. + + +There is but one Homer, there is but one Shakespeare, there is but +one McClintock--and his immortal book is before you. Homer could +not have written this book, Shakespeare could not have written it, +I could not have done it myself. There is nothing just like it +in the literature of any country or of any epoch. It stands alone; +it is monumental. It adds G. Ragsdale McClintock's to the sum of +the republic's imperishable names. + +- - - + +1. The name here given is a substitute for the one actually +attached to the pamphlet. + +2. Further on it will be seen that he is a country expert +on the fiddle, and has a three-township fame. + +3. It is a crowbar. + + +*** + + + +THE CURIOUS BOOK + + +Complete + + + +[The foregoing review of the great work of G. Ragsdale McClintock is +liberally illuminated with sample extracts, but these cannot appease +the appetite. Only the complete book, unabridged, can do that. +Therefore it is here printed.--M.T.] + + + +THE ENEMY CONQUERED; OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT + + + +Sweet girl, thy smiles are full of charms, + +Thy voice is sweeter still, + +It fills the breast with fond alarms, + +Echoed by every rill. + + +I begin this little work with an eulogy upon woman, who has ever +been distinguished for her perseverance, her constancy, and her +devoted attention to those upon whom she has been pleased to place +her AFFECTIONS. Many have been the themes upon which writers and +public speakers have dwelt with intense and increasing interest. +Among these delightful themes stands that of woman, the balm +to all our sighs and disappointments, and the most pre-eminent +of all other topics. Here the poet and orator have stood and gazed +with wonder and with admiration; they have dwelt upon her innocence, +the ornament of all her virtues. First viewing her external charms, +such as set forth in her form and benevolent countenance, and then passing +to the deep hidden springs of loveliness and disinterested devotion. +In every clime, and in every age, she has been the pride of her NATION. +Her watchfulness is untiring; she who guarded the sepulcher was +the first to approach it, and the last to depart from its awful +yet sublime scene. Even here, in this highly favored land, +we look to her for the security of our institutions, and for our +future greatness as a nation. But, strange as it may appear, +woman's charms and virtues are but slightly appreciated by thousands. +Those who should raise the standard of female worth, and paint her +value with her virtues, in living colors, upon the banners that are +fanned by the zephyrs of heaven, and hand them down to posterity +as emblematical of a rich inheritance, do not properly estimate them. + +Man is not sensible, at all times, of the nature and the emotions +which bear that name; he does not understand, he will not comprehend; +his intelligence has not expanded to that degree of glory which +drinks in the vast revolution of humanity, its end, its mighty +destination, and the causes which operated, and are still operating, +to produce a more elevated station, and the objects which energize +and enliven its consummation. This he is a stranger to; +he is not aware that woman is the recipient of celestial love, +and that man is dependent upon her to perfect his character; +that without her, philosophically and truly speaking, the brightest +of his intelligence is but the coldness of a winter moon, +whose beams can produce no fruit, whose solar light is not its own, +but borrowed from the great dispenser of effulgent beauty. +We have no disposition in the world to flatter the fair sex, +we would raise them above those dastardly principles which only +exist in little souls, contracted hearts, and a distracted brain. +Often does she unfold herself in all her fascinating loveliness, +presenting the most captivating charms; yet we find man frequently +treats such purity of purpose with indifference. Why does he do it? +Why does he baffle that which is inevitably the source of his +better days? Is he so much of a stranger to those excellent qualities +as not to appreciate woman, as not to have respect to her dignity? +Since her art and beauty first captivated man, she has been his +delight and his comfort; she has shared alike in his misfortunes +and in his prosperity. + +Whenever the billows of adversity and the tumultuous waves of trouble +beat high, her smiles subdue their fury. Should the tear of sorrow +and the mournful sigh of grief interrupt the peace of his mind, +her voice removes them all, and she bends from her circle to encourage +him onward. When darkness would obscure his mind, and a thick cloud +of gloom would bewilder its operations, her intelligent eye darts +a ray of streaming light into his heart. Mighty and charming is that +disinterested devotion which she is ever ready to exercise toward man, +not waiting till the last moment of his danger, but seeks to relieve +him in his early afflictions. It gushes forth from the expansive +fullness of a tender and devoted heart, where the noblest, the purest, +and the most elevated and refined feelings are matured and developed +in those may kind offices which invariably make her character. + +In the room of sorrow and sickness, this unequaled characteristic +may always been seen, in the performance of the most charitable acts; +nothing that she can do to promote the happiness of him who she +claims to be her protector will be omitted; all is invigorated by +the animating sunbeams which awaken the heart to songs of gaiety. +Leaving this point, to notice another prominent consideration, +which is generally one of great moment and of vital importance. +Invariably she is firm and steady in all her pursuits and aims. +There is required a combination of forces and extreme opposition to +drive her from her position; she takes her stand, not to be moved by +the sound of Apollo's lyre or the curved bow of pleasure. + +Firm and true to what she undertakes, and that which she requires +by her own aggrandizement, and regards as being within the strict rules +of propriety, she will remain stable and unflinching to the last. +A more genuine principle is not to be found in the most determined, +resolute heart of man. For this she deserves to be held in the +highest commendation, for this she deserves the purest of all +other blessings, and for this she deserves the most laudable reward +of all others. It is a noble characteristic and is worthy of imitation +of any age. And when we look at it in one particular aspect, +it is still magnified, and grows brighter and brighter the more we +reflect upon its eternal duration. What will she not do, when her +word as well as her affections and LOVE are pledged to her lover? +Everything that is dear to her on earth, all the hospitalities +of kind and loving parents, all the sincerity and loveliness +of sisters, and the benevolent devotion of brothers, who have +surrounded her with every comfort; she will forsake them all, +quit the harmony and sweet sound of the lute and the harp, +and throw herself upon the affections of some devoted admirer, +in whom she fondly hopes to find more than she has left behind, +which is not often realized by many. Truth and virtue all combined! +How deserving our admiration and love! Ah cruel would it be in man, +after she has thus manifested such an unshaken confidence in him, +and said by her determination to abandon all the endearments and +blandishments of home, to act a villainous part, and prove a traitor +in the revolution of his mission, and then turn Hector over the +innocent victim whom he swore to protect, in the presence of Heaven, +recorded by the pen of an angel. + +Striking as this train may unfold itself in her character, +and as pre-eminent as it may stand among the fair display of her +other qualities, yet there is another, which struggles into existence, +and adds an additional luster to what she already possesses. +I mean that disposition in woman which enables her, in sorrow, +in grief, and in distress, to bear all with enduring patience. +This she has done, and can and will do, amid the din of war and +clash of arms. Scenes and occurrences which, to every appearance, +are calculated to rend the heart with the profoundest emotions of trouble, +do not fetter that exalted principle imbued in her very nature. +It is true, her tender and feeling heart may often be moved (as she +is thus constituted), but she is not conquered, she has not given up +to the harlequin of disappointments, her energies have not become +clouded in the last movement of misfortune, but she is continually +invigorated by the archetype of her affections. She may bury her face +in her hands, and let the tear of anguish roll, she may promenade +the delightful walks of some garden, decorated with all the flowers +of nature, or she may steal out along some gently rippling stream, +and there, as the silver waters uninterruptedly move forward, +shed her silent tears; they mingle with the waves, and take a last +farewell of their agitated home, to seek a peaceful dwelling among +the rolling floods; yet there is a voice rushing from her breast, +that proclaims VICTORY along the whole line and battlement of +her affections. That voice is the voice of patience and resignation; +that voice is one that bears everything calmly and dispassionately, +amid the most distressing scenes; when the fates are arrayed against +her peace, and apparently plotting for her destruction, still she +is resigned. + +Woman's affections are deep, consequently her troubles may be made +to sink deep. Although you may not be able to mark the traces of her +grief and the furrowings of her anguish upon her winning countenance, +yet be assured they are nevertheless preying upon her inward person, +sapping the very foundation of that heart which alone was made +for the weal and not the woe of man. The deep recesses of the soul +are fields for their operation. But they are not destined simply +to take the regions of the heart for their dominion, they are not +satisfied merely with interrupting her better feelings; but after +a while you may see the blooming cheek beginning to droop and fade, +her intelligent eye no longer sparkles with the starry light of heaven, +her vibrating pulse long since changed its regular motion, and her +palpitating bosom beats once more for the midday of her glory. +Anxiety and care ultimately throw her into the arms of the haggard +and grim monster death. But, oh, how patient, under every +pining influence! Let us view the matter in bolder colors; +see her when the dearest object of her affections recklessly seeks +every bacchanalian pleasure, contents himself with the last rubbish +of creation. With what solicitude she awaits his return! Sleep fails +to perform its office--she weeps while the nocturnal shades of the +night triumph in the stillness. Bending over some favorite book, +whilst the author throws before her mind the most beautiful imagery, +she startles at every sound. The midnight silence is broken +by the solemn announcement of the return of another morning. +He is still absent; she listens for that voice which has so often +been greeted by the melodies of her own; but, alas! stern silence +is all that she receives for her vigilance. + +Mark her unwearied watchfulness, as the night passes away. +At last, brutalized by the accursed thing, he staggers along +with rage, and, shivering with cold, he makes his appearance. +Not a murmur is heard from her lips. On the contrary, she meets him +with a smile--she caresses him with tender arms, with all the gentleness +and softness of her sex. Here, then, is seen her disposition, +beautifully arrayed. Woman, thou art more to be admired than the spicy +gales of Arabia, and more sought for than the gold of Golconda. +We believe that Woman should associate freely with man, and we believe +that it is for the preservation of her rights. She should become +acquainted with the metaphysical designs of those who condescended +to sing the siren song of flattery. This, we think, should be +according to the unwritten law of decorum, which is stamped upon +every innocent heart. The precepts of prudery are often steeped +in the guilt of contamination, which blasts the expectations of +better moments. Truth, and beautiful dreams--loveliness, and delicacy +of character, with cherished affections of the ideal woman-- +gentle hopes and aspirations, are enough to uphold her in the storms +of darkness, without the transferred colorings of a stained sufferer. +How often have we seen it in our public prints, that woman occupies +a false station in the world! and some have gone so far as to say it +was an unnatural one. So long has she been regarded a weak creature, +by the rabble and illiterate--they have looked upon her as an +insufficient actress on the great stage of human life--a mere puppet, +to fill up the drama of human existence--a thoughtless, inactive being-- +that she has too often come to the same conclusion herself, and has +sometimes forgotten her high destination, in the meridian of her glory. +We have but little sympathy or patience for those who treat her as +a mere Rosy Melindi--who are always fishing for pretty complements-- +who are satisfied by the gossamer of Romance, and who can be +allured by the verbosity of high-flown words, rich in language, +but poor and barren in sentiment. Beset, as she has been, by the +intellectual vulgar, the selfish, the designing, the cunning, the hidden, +and the artful--no wonder she has sometimes folded her wings in despair, +and forgotten her HEAVENLY mission in the delirium of imagination; +no wonder she searches out some wild desert, to find a peaceful home. +But this cannot always continue. A new era is moving gently onward, +old things are rapidly passing away; old superstitions, old prejudices, +and old notions are now bidding farewell to their old associates +and companions, and giving way to one whose wings are plumed +with the light of heaven and tinged by the dews of the morning. +There is a remnant of blessedness that clings to her in spite of all +evil influence, there is enough of the Divine Master left to accomplish +the noblest work ever achieved under the canopy of the vaulted skies; +and that time is fast approaching, when the picture of the true +woman will shine from its frame of glory, to captivate, to win back, +to restore, and to call into being once more, THE OBJECT OF HER MISSION. + + +Star of the brave! thy glory shed, + +O'er all the earth, thy army led-- + +Bold meteor of immortal birth! + +Why come from Heaven to dwell on Earth? + + +Mighty and glorious are the days of youth; happy the moments +of the LOVER, mingled with smiles and tears of his devoted, +and long to be remembered are the achievements which he gains with a +palpitating heart and a trembling hand. A bright and lovely dawn, +the harbinger of a fair and prosperous day, had arisen over the +beautiful little village of Cumming, which is surrounded by the +most romantic scenery in the Cherokee country. Brightening clouds +seemed to rise from the mist of the fair Chattahoochee, to spread +their beauty over the the thick forest, to guide the hero whose +bosom beats with aspirations to conquer the enemy that would tarnish +his name, and to win back the admiration of his long-tried friend. +He endeavored to make his way through Sawney's Mountain, where many meet +to catch the gales that are continually blowing for the refreshment +of the stranger and the traveler. Surrounded as he was by hills +on every side, naked rocks dared the efforts of his energies. +Soon the sky became overcast, the sun buried itself in the clouds, +and the fair day gave place to gloomy twilight, which lay heavily +on the Indian Plains. He remembered an old Indian Castle, +that once stood at the foot of the mountain. He thought if he could +make his way to this, he would rest contented for a short time. +The mountain air breathed fragrance--a rosy tinge rested on the glassy +waters that murmured at its base. His resolution soon brought him +to the remains of the red man's hut: he surveyed with wonder and +astonishment the decayed building, which time had buried in the dust, +and thought to himself, his happiness was not yet complete. +Beside the shore of the brook sat a young man, about eighteen or twenty, +who seemed to be reading some favorite book, and who had a remarkably +noble countenance--eyes which betrayed more than a common mind. +This of course made the youth a welcome guest, and gained him +friends in whatever condition of life he might be placed. +The traveler observed that he was a well-built figure, which showed +strength and grace in every movement. He accordingly addressed +him in quite a gentlemanly manner, and inquired of him the way +to the village. After he had received the desired information, +and was about taking his leave, the youth said, "Are you not +Major Elfonzo, the great musician--the champion of a noble cause-- +the modern Achilles, who gained so many victories in the Florida War?" +"I bear that name," said the Major, "and those titles, +trusting at the same time that the ministers of grace will carry +me triumphantly through all my laudable undertakings, and if," +continued the Major, "you, sir, are the patronizer of noble deeds, +I should like to make you my confidant and learn your address." +The youth looked somewhat amazed, bowed low, mused for a moment, +and began: "My name is Roswell. I have been recently admitted +to the bar, and can only give a faint outline of my future success +in that honorable profession; but I trust, sir, like the Eagle, +I shall look down from lofty rocks upon the dwellings of man, and shall +ever be ready to give you any assistance in my official capacity, +and whatever this muscular arm of mine can do, whenever it shall be +called from its buried GREATNESS." The Major grasped him by the hand, +and exclaimed: "O! thou exalted spirit of inspiration--thou flame +of burning prosperity, may the Heaven-directed blaze be the glare +of thy soul, and battle down every rampart that seems to impede +your progress!" + +The road which led to the town presented many attractions. +Elfonzo had bid farewell to the youth of deep feeling, and was +not wending his way to the dreaming spot of his fondness. +The south winds whistled through the woods, as the waters dashed +against the banks, as rapid fire in the pent furnace roars. +This brought him to remember while alone, that he quietly left behind +the hospitality of a father's house, and gladly entered the world, +with higher hopes than are often realized. But as he journeyed onward, +he was mindful of the advice of his father, who had often looked +sadly on the ground when tears of cruelly deceived hope moistened +his eye. Elfonzo had been somewhat of a dutiful son; yet fond +of the amusements of life--had been in distant lands--had enjoyed +the pleasure of the world and had frequently returned to the scenes +of his boyhood, almost destitute of many of the comforts of life. +In this condition, he would frequently say to his father, "Have I +offended you, that you look upon me as a stranger, and frown upon +me with stinging looks? Will you not favor me with the sound of +your voice? If I have trampled upon your veneration, or have spread +a humid veil of darkness around your expectations, send me back into +the world where no heart beats for me--where the foot of man has +never yet trod; but give me at least one kind word--allow me to come +into the presence sometimes of thy winter-worn locks." "Forbid it, +Heaven, that I should be angry with thee," answered the father, +"my son, and yet I send thee back to the children of the world-- +to the cold charity of the combat, and to a land of victory. I read +another destiny in thy countenance--I learn thy inclinations from +the flame that has already kindled in my soul a stranger sensation. +It will seek thee, my dear ELFONZO, it will find thee--thou canst +not escape that lighted torch, which shall blot out from the +remembrance of men a long train of prophecies which they have +foretold against thee. I once thought not so. Once, I was blind; +but now the path of life is plain before me, and my sight is clear; +yet Elfonzo, return to thy worldly occupation--take again in thy +hand that chord of sweet sounds--struggle with the civilized world, +and with your own heart; fly swiftly to the enchanted ground-- +let the night-OWL send forth its screams from the stubborn oak-- +let the sea sport upon the beach, and the stars sing together; +but learn of these, Elfonzo, thy doom, and thy hiding-place. Our most +innocent as well as our most lawful DESIRES must often be denied us, +that we may learn to sacrifice them to a Higher will." + +Remembering such admonitions with gratitude, Elfonzo was immediately +urged by the recollection of his father's family to keep moving. +His steps became quicker and quicker--he hastened through the PINY woods, +dark as the forest was, and with joy he very soon reached the little +village or repose, in whose bosom rested the boldest chivalry. +His close attention to every important object--his modest questions +about whatever was new to him--his reverence for wise old age, +and his ardent desire to learn many of the fine arts, soon brought him +into respectable notice. + +One mild winter day as he walked along the streets toward the Academy, +which stood upon a small eminence, surrounded by native growth-- +some venerable in its appearance, others young and prosperous-- +all seemed inviting, and seemed to be the very place for learning as +well as for genius to spend its research beneath its spreading shades. +He entered its classic walls in the usual mode of southern manners. +The principal of the Institution begged him to be seated and listen +to the recitations that were going on. He accordingly obeyed +the request, and seemed to be much pleased. After the school +was dismissed, and the young hearts regained their freedom, +with the songs of the evening, laughing at the anticipated pleasures +of a happy home, while others tittered at the actions of the past day, +he addressed the teacher in a tone that indicated a resolution-- +with an undaunted mind. He said he had determined to become +a student, if he could meet with his approbation. "Sir," said he, +"I have spent much time in the world. I have traveled among +the uncivilized inhabitants of America. I have met with friends, +and combated with foes; but none of these gratify my ambition, +or decide what is to be my destiny. I see the learned would +have an influence with the voice of the people themselves. +The despoilers of the remotest kingdoms of the earth refer their +differences to this class of persons. This the illiterate and +inexperienced little dream of; and now if you will receive me as I am, +with these deficiencies--with all my misguided opinions, I will give +you my honor, sir, that I will never disgrace the Institution, +or those who have placed you in this honorable station." +The instructor, who had met with many disappointments, knew how to +feel for a stranger who had been thus turned upon the charities +of an unfeeling community. He looked at him earnestly, and said: +"Be of good cheer--look forward, sir, to the high destination you +may attain. Remember, the more elevated the mark at which you aim, +the more sure, the more glorious, the more magnificent the prize." +From wonder to wonder, his encouragement led the impatient listener. +A stranger nature bloomed before him--giant streams promised +him success--gardens of hidden treasures opened to his view. +All this, so vividly described, seemed to gain a new witchery from his +glowing fancy. + +In 1842 he entered the class, and made rapid progress in the English +and Latin departments. Indeed, he continued advancing with such +rapidity that he was like to become the first in his class, +and made such unexpected progress, and was so studious, that he had +almost forgotten the pictured saint of his affections. The fresh +wreaths of the pine and cypress had waited anxiously to drop once +more the dews of Heavens upon the heads of those who had so often +poured forth the tender emotions of their souls under its boughs. +He was aware of the pleasure that he had seen there. So one evening, +as he was returning from his reading, he concluded he would pay a visit +to this enchanting spot. Little did he think of witnessing a shadow +of his former happiness, though no doubt he wished it might be so. +He continued sauntering by the roadside, meditating on the past. +The nearer he approached the spot, the more anxious he became. +At the moment a tall female figure flitted across his path, with a +bunch of roses in her hand; her countenance showed uncommon vivacity, +with a resolute spirit; her ivory teeth already appeared as she +smiled beautifully, promenading--while her ringlets of hair dangled +unconsciously around her snowy neck. Nothing was wanting to complete +her beauty. The tinge of the rose was in full bloom upon her cheek; +the charms of sensibility and tenderness were always her associates.. +In Ambulinia's bosom dwelt a noble soul--one that never faded-- +one that never was conquered. Her heart yielded to no feeling +but the love of Elfonzo, on whom she gazed with intense delight, +and to whom she felt herself more closely bound ,because he sought +the hand of no other. Elfonzo was roused from his apparent reverie. +His books no longer were his inseparable companions--his thoughts +arrayed themselves to encourage him in the field of victory. +He endeavored to speak to his supposed Ambulinia, but his speech +appeared not in words. No, his effort was a stream of fire, +that kindled his soul into a flame of admiration, and carried +his senses away captive. Ambulinia had disappeared, to make him +more mindful of his duty. As she walked speedily away through +the piny woods she calmly echoed: "O! Elfonzo, thou wilt +now look from thy sunbeams. Thou shalt now walk in a new path-- +perhaps thy way leads through darkness; but fear not, the stars +foretell happiness." + +Not many days afterward, as surrounded by fragrant flowers she sat +one evening at twilight, to enjoy the cool breeze that whispered +notes of melody along the distant groves, the little birds perched +on every side, as if to watch the movements of their new visitor. +The bells were tolling when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild +wood flowers, holding in his hand his favorite instrument of music-- +his eye continually searching for Ambulinia, who hardly seemed +to perceive him, as she played carelessly with the songsters +that hopped from branch to branch. Nothing could be more striking +than the difference between the two. Nature seemed to have given +the more tender soul to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous +to Ambulinia. A deep feeling spoke from the eyes of Elfonzo-- +such a feeling as can only be expressed by those who are blessed +as admirers, and by those who are able to return the same with +sincerity of heart. He was a few years older than Ambulinia: +she had turned a little into her seventeenth. He had almost grown +up in the Cherokee country, with the same equal proportions as one +of the natives. But little intimacy had existed between them until +the year forty-one--because the youth felt that the character of such +a lovely girl was too exalted to inspire any other feeling than +that of quiet reverence. But as lovers will not always be insulted, +at all times and under all circumstances, by the frowns and cold +looks of crabbed old age, which should continually reflect dignity +upon those around, and treat unfortunate as well as the fortunate +with a graceful mien, he continued to use diligence and perseverance. +All this lighted a spark in his heart that changed his whole character, +and like the unyielding Deity that follows the storm to check its +rage in the forest, he resolves for the first time to shake off +his embarrassment and return where he had before only worshiped. + +It could not escape Ambulinia's penetrating eye that he sought +an interview with her, which she as anxiously avoided, and assumed +a more distant calmness than before, seemingly to destroy all hope. +After many efforts and struggles with his own person, with timid +steps the Major approached the damsel, with the same caution +as he would have done in a field of battle. "Lady Ambulinia," +said he, trembling, "I have long desired a moment like this. +I dare not let it escape. I fear the consequences; yet I hope +your indulgence will at least hear my petition. Can you not +anticipate what I would say, and what I am about to express? +Will not you, like Minerva, who sprung from the brain of Jupiter, +release me from thy winding chains or cure me--" "Say no more, +Elfonzo," answered Ambulinia, with a serious look, raising her hand +as if she intended to swear eternal hatred against the whole world; +"another lady in my place would have perhaps answered your question +in bitter coldness. I know not the little arts of my sex. +I care but little for the vanity of those who would chide me, +and am unwilling as well as shamed to be guilty of anything +that would lead you to think 'all is not gold that glitters'; +so be not rash in your resolution. It is better to repent now than +to do it in a more solemn hour. Yes, I know what you would say. +I know you have a costly gift for me--the noblest that man can make-- +YOUR HEART! you should not offer it to one so unworthy. +Heaven, you know, has allowed my father's house to be made a house +of solitude, a home of silent obedience, which my parents say +is more to be admired than big names and high-sounding titles. +Notwithstanding all this, let me speak the emotions of an honest heart; +allow me to say in the fullness of my hopes that I anticipate +better days. The bird may stretch its wings toward the sun, +which it can never reach; and flowers of the field appear to +ascend in the same direction, because they cannot do otherwise; +but man confides his complaints to the saints in whom he believes; +for in their abodes of light they know no more sorrow. From your +confession and indicative looks, I must be that person; if so, +deceive not yourself." + +Elfonzo replied, "Pardon me, my dear madam, for my frankness. +I have loved you from my earliest days; everything grand and beautiful +hath borne the image of Ambulinia; while precipices on every hand +surrounded me, your GUARDIAN ANGEL stood and beckoned me away from +the deep abyss. In every trial, in every misfortune, I have met +with your helping hand; yet I never dreamed or dared to cherish +thy love till a voice impaired with age encouraged the cause, +and declared they who acquired thy favor should win a victory. +I saw how Leos worshipped thee. I felt my own unworthiness. +I began to KNOW JEALOUSY--a strong guest, indeed, in my bosom-- +yet I could see if I gained your admiration Leos was to be my rival. +I was aware that he had the influence of your parents, and the wealth +of a deceased relative, which is too often mistaken for permanent +and regular tranquillity; yet I have determined by your permission +to beg an interest in your prayers--to ask you to animate my dropping +spirits by your smiles and your winning looks; for if you but speak +I shall be conqueror, my enemies shall stagger like Olympus shakes. +And though earth and sea may tremble, and the charioteer of the sun +may forget his dashing steed, yet I am assured that it is only +to arm me with divine weapons which will enable me to complete my +long-tried intention." + +"Return to your self, Elfonzo," said Ambulinia, pleasantly; "a dream +of vision has disturbed your intellect; you are above the atmosphere, +dwelling in the celestial regions; nothing is there that urges +or hinders, nothing that brings discord into our present litigation. +I entreat you to condescend a little, and be a man, and forget it all. +When Homer describes the battle of the gods and noble men fighting +with giants and dragons, they represent under this image our struggles +with the delusions of our passions. You have exalted me, an unhappy girl, +to the skies; you have called me a saint, and portrayed in your +imagination an angel in human form. Let her remain such to you, +let her continue to be as you have supposed, and be assured that she +will consider a share in your esteem as her highest treasure. +Think not that I would allure you from the path in which your +conscience leads you; for you know I respect the conscience of others, +as I would die for my own. Elfonzo, if I am worthy of thy love, +let such conversation never again pass between us. Go, seek a nobler +theme! we will seek it in the stream of time as the sun set in +the Tigris." As she spake these words she grasped the hand of Elfonzo, +saying at the same time, "Peace and prosperity attend you, my hero: +be up and doing!' Closing her remarks with this expression, +she walked slowly away, leaving Elfonzo astonished and amazed. +He ventured not to follow or detain her. Here he stood alone, +gazing at the stars; confounded as he was, here he stood. The rippling +stream rolled on at his feet. Twilight had already begun to draw +her sable mantle over the earth, and now and then the fiery smoke +would ascend from the little town which lay spread out before him. +The citizens seemed to be full of life and good-humor; but poor Elfonzo +saw not a brilliant scene. No; his future life stood before him, +stripped of the hopes that once adorned all his sanguine desires. +"Alas!" said he, "am I now Grief's disappointed son at last." +Ambulinia's image rose before his fancy. A mixture of ambition +and greatness of soul moved upon his young heart, and encouraged +him to bear all his crosses with the patience of a Job, +notwithstanding he had to encounter with so many obstacles. +He still endeavored to prosecute his studies, and reasonable +progressed in his education. Still, he was not content; there was +something yet to be done before his happiness was complete. +He would visit his friends and acquaintances. They would invite him +to social parties, insisting that he should partake of the amusements +that were going on. This he enjoyed tolerably well. The ladies +and gentlemen were generally well pleased with the Major; as he +delighted all with his violin, which seemed to have a thousand chords-- +more symphonious than the Muses of Apollo and more enchanting +than the ghost of the Hills. He passed some days in the country. +During that time Leos had made many calls upon Ambulinia, who was +generally received with a great deal of courtesy by the family. +They thought him to be a young man worthy of attention, though he +had but little in his soul to attract the attention or even win +the affections of her whose graceful manners had almost made +him a slave to every bewitching look that fell from her eyes. +Leos made several attempts to tell her of his fair prospects-- +how much he loved her, and how much it would add to his bliss if he +could but think she would be willing to share these blessings +with him; but, choked by his undertaking, he made himself more like an +inactive drone than he did like one who bowed at beauty's shrine. + +Elfonzo again wends his way to the stately walls and new-built village. +He now determines to see the end of the prophesy which had been +foretold to him. The clouds burst from his sight; he believes +if he can but see his Ambulinia, he can open to her view the bloody +altars that have been misrepresented to stigmatize his name. +He knows that her breast is transfixed with the sword of reason, +and ready at all times to detect the hidden villainy of her enemies. +He resolves to see her in her own home, with the consoling theme: +"'I can but perish if I go.' Let the consequences be what they may," +said he, "if I die, it shall be contending and struggling for my +own rights." + +Night had almost overtaken him when he arrived in town. Colonel Elder, +a noble-hearted, high-minded, and independent man, met him at +his door as usual, and seized him by the hand. "Well, Elfonzo," +said the Colonel, "how does the world use you in your efforts?" +"I have no objection to the world," said Elfonzo, "but the people +are rather singular in some of their opinions." "Aye, well," +said the Colonel, "you must remember that creation is made up of +many mysteries; just take things by the right handle; be always sure +you know which is the smooth side before you attempt your polish; +be reconciled to your fate, be it what it may; and never find fault +with your condition, unless your complaining will benefit it. +Perseverance is a principle that should be commendable in those who have +judgment to govern it. I should never had been so successful in my +hunting excursions had I waited till the deer, by some magic dream, +had been drawn to the muzzle of the gun before I made an attempt to fire +at the game that dared my boldness in the wild forest. The great +mystery in hunting seems to be--a good marksman, a resolute mind, +a fixed determination, and my world for it, you will never return +home without sounding your horn with the breath of a new victory. +And so with every other undertaking. Be confident that your ammunition +is of the right kind--always pull your trigger with a steady hand, +and so soon as you perceive a calm, touch her off, and the spoils +are yours." + +This filled him with redoubled vigor, and he set out with a stronger +anxiety than ever to the home of Ambulinia. A few short steps soon +brought him to the door, half out of breath. He rapped gently. +Ambulinia, who sat in the parlor alone, suspecting Elfonzo was near, +ventured to the door, opened it, and beheld the hero, who stood +in an humble attitude, bowed gracefully, and as they caught each +other's looks the light of peace beamed from the eyes of Ambulinia. +Elfonzo caught the expression; a halloo of smothered shouts ran +through every vein, and for the first time he dared to impress a kiss +upon her cheek. The scene was overwhelming; had the temptation +been less animating, he would not have ventured to have acted +so contrary to the desired wish of his Ambulinia; but who could +have withstood the irrestistable temptation! What society condemns +the practice but a cold, heartless, uncivilized people that know +nothing of the warm attachments of refined society? Here the dead +was raised to his long-cherished hopes, and the lost was found. +Here all doubt and danger were buried in the vortex of oblivion; +sectional differences no longer disunited their opinions; like the freed +bird from the cage, sportive claps its rustling wings, wheels about +to heaven in a joyful strain, and raises its notes to the upper sky. +Ambulinia insisted upon Elfonzo to be seated, and give her a history +of his unnecessary absence; assuring him the family had retired, +consequently they would ever remain ignorant of his visit. +Advancing toward him, she gave a bright display of her rosy neck, +and from her head the ambrosial locks breathed divine fragrance; +her robe hung waving to his view, while she stood like a goddess +confessed before him. + +"It does seem to me, my dear sir," said Ambulinia, "that you have +been gone an age. Oh, the restless hours I have spent since I last +saw you, in yon beautiful grove. There is where I trifled with your +feelings for the express purpose of trying your attachment for me. +I now find you are devoted; but ah! I trust you live not unguarded +by the powers of Heaven. Though oft did I refuse to join my hand +with thine, and as oft did I cruelly mock thy entreaties with +borrowed shapes: yes, I feared to answer thee by terms, in words +sincere and undissembled. O! could I pursue, and you have leisure +to hear the annals of my woes, the evening star would shut Heaven's +gates upon the impending day before my tale would be finished, +and this night would find me soliciting your forgiveness." + +"Dismiss thy fears and thy doubts," replied Elfonzo. + +"Look, O! look: that angelic look of thine--bathe not thy visage +in tears; banish those floods that are gathering; let my confession +and my presence being thee some relief." "Then, indeed, I will +be cheerful," said Ambulinia, "and I think if we will go to the +exhibition this evening, we certainly will see something worthy +of our attention. One of the most tragical scenes is to be acted +that has ever been witnessed, and one that every jealous-hearted person +should learn a lesson from. It cannot fail to have a good effect, +as it will be performed by those who are young and vigorous, +and learned as well as enticing. You are aware, Major Elfonzo, who are +to appear on the stage, and what the characters are to represent." +"I am acquainted with the circumstances," replied Elfonzo, "and as I +am to be one of the musicians upon that interesting occasion, +I should be much gratified if you would favor me with your company +during the hours of the exercises." + +"What strange notions are in your mind?" inquired Ambulinia. +"Now I know you have something in view, and I desire you to tell +me why it is that you are so anxious that I should continue +with you while the exercises are going on; though if you think I +can add to your happiness and predilections, I have no particular +objection to acquiesce in your request. Oh, I think I foresee, +now, what you anticipate." "And will you have the goodness to tell +me what you think it will be?" inquired Elfonzo. "By all means," +answered Ambulinia; "a rival, sir, you would fancy in your own mind; +but let me say for you, fear not! fear not! I will be one of the +last persons to disgrace my sex by thus encouraging every one who +may feel disposed to visit me, who may honor me with their graceful +bows and their choicest compliments. It is true that young men too +often mistake civil politeness for the finer emotions of the heart, +which is tantamount to courtship; but, ah! how often are they deceived, +when they come to test the weight of sunbeams with those on whose +strength hangs the future happiness of an untried life." + +The people were now rushing to the Academy with impatient anxiety; +the band of music was closely followed by the students; then the parents +and guardians; nothing interrupted the glow of spirits which ran +through every bosom, tinged with the songs of a Virgil and the tide +of a Homer. Elfonzo and Ambulinia soon repaired to the scene, +and fortunately for them both the house was so crowded that they took +their seats together in the music department, which was not in view +of the auditory. This fortuitous circumstances added more the bliss +of the Major than a thousand such exhibitions would have done. +He forgot that he was man; music had lost its charms for him; +whenever he attempted to carry his part, the string of the instrument +would break, the bow became stubborn, and refused to obey the loud +calls of the audience. Here, he said, was the paradise of his home, +the long-sought-for opportunity; he felt as though he could +send a million supplications to the throne of Heaven for such +an exalted privilege. Poor Leos, who was somewhere in the crowd, +looking as attentively as if he was searching for a needle in a haystack; +here is stood, wondering to himself why Ambulinia was not there. +"Where can she be? Oh! if she was only here, how I could relish +the scene! Elfonzo is certainly not in town; but what if he is? +I have got the wealth, if I have not the dignity, and I am sure that +the squire and his lady have always been particular friends of mine, +and I think with this assurance I shall be able to get upon the blind +side of the rest of the family and make the heaven-born Ambulinia +the mistress of all I possess." Then, again, he would drop his head, +as if attempting to solve the most difficult problem in Euclid. +While he was thus conjecturing in his own mind, a very interesting +part of the exhibition was going on, which called the attention +of all present. The curtains of the stage waved continually +by the repelled forces that were given to them, which caused +Leos to behold Ambulinia leaning upon the chair of Elfonzo. +Her lofty beauty, seen by the glimmering of the chandelier, +filled his heart with rapture, he knew not how to contain himself; +to go where they were would expose him to ridicule; to continue +where he was, with such an object before him, without being allowed +an explanation in that trying hour, would be to the great injury +of his mental as well as of his physical powers; and, in the name +of high heaven, what must he do? Finally, he resolved to contain +himself as well as he conveniently could, until the scene was over, +and then he would plant himself at the door, to arrest Ambulinia from +the hands of the insolent Elfonzo, and thus make for himself a more +prosperous field of immortality than ever was decreed by Omnipotence, +or ever pencil drew or artist imagined. Accordingly he made +himself sentinel, immediately after the performance of the evening-- +retained his position apparently in defiance of all the world; he waited, +he gazed at every lady, his whole frame trembled; here he stood, +until everything like human shape had disappeared from the institution, +and he had done nothing; he had failed to accomplish that which he +so eagerly sought for. Poor, unfortunate creature! he had not +the eyes of an Argus, or he might have seen his Juno and Elfonzo, +assisted by his friend Sigma, make their escape from the window, +and, with the rapidity of a race-horse, hurry through the blast of +the storm to the residence of her father, without being recognized. +He did not tarry long, but assured Ambulinia the endless chain +of their existence was more closely connected than ever, since he +had seen the virtuous, innocent, imploring, and the constant +Amelia murdered by the jealous-hearted Farcillo, the accursed of +the land. + +The following is the tragical scene, which is only introduced +to show the subject-matter that enabled Elfonzo to come to such +a determinate resolution that nothing of the kind should ever +dispossess him of his true character, should he be so fortunate +as to succeed in his present undertaking. + +Amelia was the wife of Farcillo, and a virtuous woman; Gracia, +a young lady, was her particular friend and confidant. Farcillo grew +jealous of Amelia, murders her, finds out that he was deceived, +AND STABS HIMSELF. Amelia appears alone, talking to herself. + +A. Hail, ye solitary ruins of antiquity, ye sacred tombs and +silent walks! it is your aid I invoke; it is to you, my soul, +wrapt in deep mediating, pours forth its prayer. Here I wander upon +the stage of mortality, since the world hath turned against me. +Those whom I believed to be my friends, alas! are now my enemies, +planting thorns in all my paths, poisoning all my pleasures, +and turning the past to pain. What a lingering catalogue of sighs +and tears lies just before me, crowding my aching bosom with +the fleeting dream of humanity, which must shortly terminate. +And to what purpose will all this bustle of life, these agitations +and emotions of the heart have conduced, if it leave behind it +nothing of utility, if it leave no traces of improvement? Can it +be that I am deceived in my conclusions? No, I see that I have +nothing to hope for, but everything for fear, which tends to drive +me from the walks of time. + + +Oh! in this dead night, if loud winds arise, + +To lash the surge and bluster in the skies, + +May the west its furious rage display, + +Toss me with storms in the watery way. + + +(Enter Gracia.) + + +G. Oh, Amelia, is it you, the object of grief, the daughter of opulence, +of wisdom and philosophy, that thus complaineth? It cannot be you +are the child of misfortune, speaking of the monuments of former ages, +which were allotted not for the reflection of the distressed, +but for the fearless and bold. + +A. Not the child of poverty, Gracia, or the heir of glory and peace, +but of fate. Remember, I have wealth more than wit can number; I have +had power more than kings could emcompass; yet the world seems a desert; +all nature appears an afflictive spectacle of warring passions. +This blind fatality, that capriciously sports with the rules +and lives of mortals, tells me that the mountains will never again +send forth the water of their springs to my thirst. Oh, that I +might be freed and set at liberty from wretchedness! But I fear, +I fear this will never be. + +G. Why, Amelia, this untimely grief? What has caused the sorrows +that bespeak better and happier days, to those lavish out such +heaps of misery? You are aware that your instructive lessons +embellish the mind with holy truths, by wedding its attention +to none but great and noble affections. + +A. This, of course, is some consolation. I will ever love my own +species with feelings of a fond recollection, and while I am +studying to advance the universal philanthropy, and the spotless +name of my own sex, I will try to build my own upon the pleasing +belief that I have accelerated the advancement of one who whispers +of departed confidence. + + +And I, like some poor peasant fated to reside + +Remote from friends, in a forest wide. + +Oh, see what woman's woes and human wants require, + +Since that great day hath spread the seed of sinful fire. + + +G. Look up, thou poor disconsolate; you speak of quitting +earthly enjoyments. Unfold thy bosom to a friend, who would be +willing to sacrifice every enjoyment for the restoration of the +dignity and gentleness of mind which used to grace your walks, +and which is so natural to yourself; not only that, but your +paths were strewed with flowers of every hue and of every order. + + +With verdant green the mountains glow, + +For thee, for thee, the lilies grow; + +Far stretched beneath the tented hills, + +A fairer flower the valley fills. + + +A. Oh, would to Heaven I could give you a short narrative of my +former prospects for happiness, since you have acknowledged to be +an unchangeable confidant--the richest of all other blessings. +Oh, ye names forever glorious, ye celebrated scenes, ye renowned +spot of my hymeneal moments; how replete is your chart with +sublime reflections! How many profound vows, decorated with +immaculate deeds, are written upon the surface of that precious +spot of earth where I yielded up my life of celibacy, bade youth +with all its beauties a final adieu, took a last farewell of the +laurels that had accompanied me up the hill of my juvenile career. +It was then I began to descend toward the valley of disappointment +and sorrow; it was then I cast my little bark upon a mysterious ocean +of wedlock, with him who then smiled and caressed me, but, alas! now +frowns with bitterness, and has grown jealous and cold toward me, +because the ring he gave me is misplaced or lost. Oh, bear me, +ye flowers of memory, softly through the eventful history of +past times; and ye places that have witnessed the progression of man +in the circle of so many societies, and, of, aid my recollection, +while I endeavor to trace the vicissitudes of a life devoted +in endeavoring to comfort him that I claim as the object of my wishes. + + +Ah! ye mysterious men, of all the world, how few + +Act just to Heaven and to your promise true! + +But He who guides the stars with a watchful eye, + +The deeds of men lay open without disguise; + +Oh, this alone will avenge the wrongs I bear, + +For all the oppressed are His peculiar care. + + +(F. makes a slight noise.) + + +A. Who is there--Farcillo? + +G. Then I must gone. Heaven protect you. Oh, Amelia, farewell, +be of good cheer. + + +May you stand like Olympus' towers, + +Against earth and all jealous powers! + +May you, with loud shouts ascend on high + +Swift as an eagle in the upper sky. + + +A. Why so cold and distant tonight, Farcillo? Come, let us each +other greet, and forget all the past, and give security for the future. + +F. Security! talk to me about giving security for the future-- +what an insulting requisition! Have you said your prayers tonight, +Madam Amelia? + +A. Farcillo, we sometimes forget our duty, particularly when we +expect to be caressed by others. + +F. If you bethink yourself of any crime, or of any fault, that is +yet concealed from the courts of Heaven and the thrones of grace, +I bid you ask and solicit forgiveness for it now. + +A. Oh, be kind, Farcillo, don't treat me so. What do you mean +by all this? + +F. Be kind, you say; you, madam, have forgot that kindness you owe +to me, and bestowed it upon another; you shall suffer for your +conduct when you make your peace with your God. I would not slay thy +unprotected spirit. I call to Heaven to be my guard and my watch-- +I would not kill thy soul, in which all once seemed just, right, +and perfect; but I must be brief, woman. + +A. What, talk you of killing? Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo, what is +the matter? + +F. Aye, I do, without doubt; mark what I say, Amelia. + +A. Then, O God, O Heaven, and Angels, be propitious, and have mercy +upon me. + +F. Amen to that, madam, with all my heart, and with all my soul. + +A. Farcillo, listen to me one moment; I hope you will not kill me. + +F. Kill you, aye, that I will; attest it, ye fair host of light, +record it, ye dark imps of hell! + +A. Oh, I fear you--you are fatal when darkness covers your brow; +yet I know not why I should fear, since I never wronged you in all +my life. I stand, sir, guiltless before you. + +F. You pretend to say you are guiltless! Think of thy sins, +Amelia; think, oh, think, hidden woman. + +A. Wherein have I not been true to you? That death is unkind, +cruel, and unnatural, that kills for living. + +F. Peace, and be still while I unfold to thee. + +A. I will, Farcillo, and while I am thus silent, tell me the cause +of such cruel coldness in an hour like this. + +F. That RING, oh, that ring I so loved, and gave thee as the ring +of my heart; the allegiance you took to be faithful, when it +was presented; the kisses and smiles with which you honored it. +You became tired of the donor, despised it as a plague, and finally +gave it to Malos, the hidden, the vile traitor. + +A. No, upon my word and honor, I never did; I appeal to the Most +High to bear me out in this matter. Send for Malos, and ask him. + +F. Send for Malos, aye! Malos you wish to see; I thought so. +I knew you could not keep his name concealed. Amelia, sweet Amelia, +take heed, take heed of perjury; you are on the stage of death, +to suffer for YOUR SINS. + +A. What, not to die I hope, my Farcillo, my ever beloved. + +F. Yes, madam, to die a traitor's death. Shortly your spirit shall +take its exit; therefore confess freely thy sins, for to deny tends +only to make me groan under the bitter cup thou hast made for me. +Thou art to die with the name of traitor on thy brow! + +A. Then, O Lord, have mercy upon me; give me courage, give me grace +and fortitude to stand this hour of trial. + +F. Amen, I say, with all my heart. + +A. And, oh, Farcillo, will you have mercy, too? I never +intentionally offended you in all my life, never LOVED Malos, +never gave him cause to think so, as the high court of Justice +will acquit me before its tribunal. + +F. Oh, false, perjured woman, thou didst chill my blood, and makest +me a demon like thyself. I saw the ring. + +A. He found it, then, or got it clandestinely; send for him, +and let him confess the truth; let his confession be sifted. + +F. And you still with to see him! I tell you, madam, he hath +already confessed, and thou knowest the darkness of thy heart. + +A. What, my deceived Farcillo, that I gave him the ring, in which +all my affections were concentrated? Oh, surely not. + +F. Aye, he did. Ask thy conscience, and it will speak with a voice +of thunder to thy soul. + +A. He will not say so, he dare not, he cannot. + +F. No, he will not say so now, because his mouth, I trust, is hushed +in death, and his body stretched to the four winds of heaven, +to be torn to pieces by carnivorous birds. + +A. What, he is dead, and gone to the world of spirits with that +declaration in his mouth? Oh, unhappy man! Oh, insupportable hour! + +F. Yes, and had all his sighs and looks and tears been lives, my great +revenge could have slain them all, without the least condemnation. + +A. Alas! he is ushered into eternity without testing the matter +for which I am abused and sentenced and condemned to die. + +F. Cursed, infernal woman! Weepest thou for him to my face? He that +hath robbed me of my peace, my energy, the whole love of my life? +Could I call the fabled Hydra, I would have him live and perish, +survive and die, until the sun itself would grow dim with age. +I would make him have the thirst of a Tantalus, and roll the +wheel of an Ixion, until the stars of heaven should quit their +brilliant stations. + +A. Oh, invincible God, save me! Oh, unsupportable moment! Oh, heavy +hour! Banish me,, Farcillo--send me where no eye can ever see me, where +no sound shall ever great my ear; but, oh, slay me not, Farcillo; vent thy +rage and thy spite upon this emaciated frame of mine, only spare my life. + +F. Your petitions avail nothing, cruel Amelia. + +A. Oh, Farcillo, perpetrate the dark deed tomorrow; let me live +till then, for my past kindness to you, and it may be some kind +angel will show to you that I am not only the object of innocence, +but one who never loved another but your noble self. + +F. Amelia, the decree has gone forth, it is to be done, and that quickly; +thou art to die, madam. + +A. But half an hour allow me, to see my father and my only child, +to tell her the treachery and vanity of this world. + +F. There is no alternative, there is no pause: my daughter shall +not see its deceptive mother die; your father shall not know that his +daughter fell disgraced, despised by all but her enchanting Malos. + +A. Oh, Farcillo, put up thy threatening dagger into its scabbard; +let it rest and be still, just while I say one prayer for thee and +for my child. + +F. It is too late, thy doom is fixed, thou hast not confessed +to Heaven or to me, my child's protector--thou art to die. +Ye powers of earth and heaven, protect and defend me in this alone. +(STABS HER WHILE IMPLORING FOR MERCY.) + +A. Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo, a guiltless death I die. + +F. Die! die! die! + + +(Gracia enters running, falls on her knees weeping, and kisses Amelia.) + + +G. Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo! oh, Farcillo! + +F. I am here, the genius of the age, and the avenger of my wrongs. + +G. Oh, lady, speak once more; sweet Amelia, on, speak again. +Gone, gone--yes, forever gone! Farcillo, oh, cold-hearted Farcillo, +some evil fiend hath urged you to do this, Farcillo. + +F. Say not so again, or you shall receive the same fate. I did +the glorious deed, madam--beware, then, how you talk. + +G. I fear not your implements of war; I will let you know you have +not the power to do me harm. If you have a heart of triple brass, +it shall be reached and melted, and thy blood shall chill thy veins +and grow stiff in thy arteries. Here is the ring of the virtuous +and innocent murdered Amelia; I obtained it from Malos, who yet lives, +in hopes that he will survive the wound given him, and says he got +it clandestinely--declares Amelia to be the princess of truth and virtue, +invulnerable to anything like forgetting her first devotion to thee. +The world has heard of your conduct and your jealousy, and with +one universal voice declares her to be the best of all in piety; +that she is the star of this great universe, and a more virtuous +woman never lived since the wheels of time began. Oh, had you waited +till tomorrow, or until I had returned, some kind window would have +been opened to her relief. But, alas! she is gone--yes, forever gone, +to try the realities of an unknown world! + + +(Farcillo leaning over the body of Amelia.) + + +F. Malos not dead, and here is my ring! Oh, Amelia! falsely murdered! +Oh, bloody deed! Oh, wretch that I am! Oh, angels forgive me! Oh, God, +withhold thy vengeance! Oh, Amelia! if Heaven would make a thousand +worlds like this, set with diamonds, and all of one perfect chrysolite, +I would not have done this for them all, I would not have frowned +and cursed as I did. Oh, she was heavenly true, nursed in the very +lap of bright angels! Cursed slave that I am! Jealousy, oh! thou +infernal demon! Lost, lost to every sense of honor! Oh! Amelia-- +heaven-born Amelia--dead, dead! Oh! oh! oh!--then let me die with +thee. Farewell! farewell! ye world that deceived me! (STABS HIMSELF.) + + +Soon after the excitement of this tragical scene was over, +and the enlisted feeling for Amelia had grown more buoyant with +Elfonzo and Ambulinia, he determined to visit his retired home, +and make the necessary improvements to enjoy a better day; +consequently he conveyed the following lines to Ambulinia: + + +Go tell the world that hope is glowing, + +Go bid the rocks their silence break, + +Go tell the stars that love is glowing, + +Then bid the hero his lover take. + + +In the region where scarcely the foot of man hath ever trod, +where the woodman hath not found his way, lies a blooming grove, +seen only by the sun when he mounts his lofty throne, visited only +by the light of the stars, to whom are entrusted the guardianship +of earth, before the sun sinks to rest in his rosy bed. High cliffs +of rocks surround the romantic place, and in the small cavity of +the rocky wall grows the daffodil clear and pure; and as the wind +blows along the enchanting little mountain which surrounds the +lonely spot, it nourishes the flowers with the dew-drops of heaven. +Here is the seat of Elfonzo; darkness claims but little victory over +this dominion, and in vain does she spread out her gloomy wings. +Here the waters flow perpetually, and the trees lash their tops +together to bid the welcome visitor a happy muse. Elfonzo, during his +short stay in the country, had fully persuaded himself that it was +his duty to bring this solemn matter to an issue. A duty that he +individually owed, as a gentleman, to the parents of Ambulinia, +a duty in itself involving not only his own happiness and his own +standing in society, but one that called aloud the act of the parties +to make it perfect and complete. How he should communicate his +intentions to get a favorable reply, he was at a loss to know; +he knew not whether to address Esq. Valeer in prose or in poetry, +in a jocular or an argumentative manner, or whether he should use +moral suasion, legal injunction, or seizure and take by reprisal; +if it was to do the latter, he would have no difficulty in deciding +in his own mind, but his gentlemanly honor was at stake; so he +concluded to address the following letter to the father and mother +of Ambulinia, as his address in person he knew would only aggravate +the old gentleman, and perhaps his lady. + + + +Cumming, Ga., January 22, 1844 + +Mr. and Mrs. Valeer-- + + +Again I resume the pleasing task of addressing you, and once more beg +an immediate answer to my many salutations. From every circumstance +that has taken place, I feel in duty bound to comply with my obligations; +to forfeit my word would be more than I dare do; to break my pledge, +and my vows that have been witnessed, sealed, and delivered in the +presence of an unseen Deity, would be disgraceful on my part, as well +as ruinous to Ambulinia. I wish no longer to be kept in suspense +about this matter. I wish to act gentlemanly in every particular. +It is true, the promises I have made are unknown to any but Ambulinia, +and I think it unnecessary to here enumerate them, as they who +promise the most generally perform the least. Can you for a moment +doubt my sincerity or my character? My only wish is, sir, that you +may calmly and dispassionately look at the situation of the case, +and if your better judgment should dictate otherwise, my obligations +may induce me to pluck the flower that you so diametrically opposed. +We have sword by the saints--by the gods of battle, and by that +faith whereby just men are made perfect--to be united. I hope, +my dear sir, you will find it convenient as well as agreeable +to give me a favorable answer, with the signature of Mrs. Valeer, +as well as yourself. + + +With very great esteem, + +your humble servant, + +J. I. Elfonzo. + + + +The moon and stars had grown pale when Ambulinia had retired +to rest. A crowd of unpleasant thoughts passed through her bosom. +Solitude dwelt in her chamber--no sound from the neighboring +world penetrated its stillness; it appeared a temple of silence, +of repose, and of mystery. At that moment she heard a still voice +calling her father. In an instant, like the flash of lightning, +a thought ran through her mind that it must be the bearer +of Elfonzo's communication. "It is not a dream!" she said, +"no, I cannot read dreams. Oh! I would to Heaven I was near +that glowing eloquence--that poetical language--it charms the +mind in an inexpressible manner, and warms the coldest heart." +While consoling herself with this strain, her father rushed into +her room almost frantic with rage, exclaiming: "Oh, Ambulinia! +Ambulinia!! undutiful, ungrateful daughter! What does this mean? +Why does this letter bear such heart-rending intelligence? +Will you quit a father's house with this debased wretch, without a +place to lay his distracted head; going up and down the country, +with every novel object that many chance to wander through this region. +He is a pretty man to make love known to his superiors, and you, +Ambulinia, have done but little credit to yourself by honoring +his visits. Oh, wretchedness! can it be that my hopes of happiness +are forever blasted! Will you not listen to a father's entreaties, +and pay some regard to a mother's tears. I know, and I do pray that God +will give me fortitude to bear with this sea of troubles, and rescue +my daughter, my Ambulinia, as a brand from the eternal burning." +"Forgive me, father, oh! forgive thy child," replied Ambulinia. +"My heart is ready to break, when I see you in this grieved state +of agitation. Oh! think not so meanly of me, as that I mourn +for my own danger. Father, I am only woman. Mother, I am only +the templement of thy youthful years, but will suffer courageously +whatever punishment you think proper to inflict upon me, if you will +but allow me to comply with my most sacred promises--if you will but +give me my personal right and my personal liberty. Oh, father! if +your generosity will but give me these, I ask nothing more. +When Elfonzo offered me his heart, I gave him my hand, never to +forsake him, and now may the mighty God banish me before I leave him +in adversity. What a heart must I have to rejoice in prosperity +with him whose offers I have accepted, and then, when poverty comes, +haggard as it may be, for me to trifle with the oracles of Heaven, +and change with every fluctuation that may interrupt our happiness-- +like the politician who runs the political gantlet for office one day, +and the next day, because the horizon is darkened a little, he is +seen running for his life, for fear he might perish in its ruins. +Where is the philosophy, where is the consistency, where is the charity, +in conduct like this? Be happy then, my beloved father, and forget me; +let the sorrow of parting break down the wall of separation and make +us equal in our feeling; let me now say how ardently I love you; +let me kiss that age-worn cheek, and should my tears bedew thy face, +I will wipe them away. Oh, I never can forget you; no, never, never!" + +"Weep not," said the father, "Ambulinia. I will forbid Elfonzo +my house, and desire that you may keep retired a few days. I will +let him know that my friendship for my family is not linked together +by cankered chains; and if he ever enters upon my premises again, +I will send him to his long home." "Oh, father! let me entreat you +to be calm upon this occasion, and though Elfonzo may be the sport +of the clouds and winds, yet I feel assured that no fate will send +him to the silent tomb until the God of the Universe calls him +hence with a triumphant voice." + +Here the father turned away, exclaiming: "I will answer his letter +in a very few words, and you, madam, will have the goodness to stay +at home with your mother; and remember, I am determined to protect +you from the consuming fire that looks so fair to your view." + + + +Cumming, January 22, 1844. + + +Sir--In regard to your request, I am as I ever have been, utterly opposed +to your marrying into my family; and if you have any regard for yourself, +or any gentlemanly feeling, I hope you will mention it to me no more; +but seek some other one who is not so far superior to you in standing. + + +W. W. Valeer. + + + +When Elfonzo read the above letter, he became so much depressed +in spirits that many of his friends thought it advisable to use +other means to bring about the happy union. "Strange," said he, +"that the contents of this diminutive letter should cause me to have +such depressed feelings; but there is a nobler theme than this. I know +not why my MILITARY TITLE is not as great as that of SQUIRE VALEER. +For my life I cannot see that my ancestors are inferior to those +who are so bitterly opposed to my marriage with Ambulinia. I know +I have seen huge mountains before me, yet, when I think that I know +gentlemen will insult me upon this delicate matter, should I become +angry at fools and babblers, who pride themselves in their impudence +and ignorance? No. My equals! I know not where to find them. +My inferiors! I think it beneath me; and my superiors! I think +it presumption; therefore, if this youthful heart is protected +by any of the divine rights, I never will betray my trust." + +He was aware that Ambulinia had a confidence that was, indeed, +as firm and as resolute as she was beautiful and interesting. +He hastened to the cottage of Louisa, who received him in her usual +mode of pleasantness, and informed him that Ambulinia had just that +moment left. "Is it possible?" said Elfonzo. "Oh, murdered hours! +Why did she not remain and be the guardian of my secrets? +But hasten and tell me how she has stood this trying scene, +and what are her future determinations." "You know," said Louisa, +"Major Elfonzo, that you have Ambulinia's first love, which is +of no small consequence. She came here about twilight, and shed +many precious tears in consequence of her own fate with yours. +We walked silently in yon little valley you see, where we spent +a momentary repose. She seemed to be quite as determined as ever, +and before we left that beautiful spot she offered up a prayer +to Heaven for thee." "I will see her then," replied Elfonzo, +"though legions of enemies may oppose. She is mine by foreordination-- +she is mine by prophesy--she is mine by her own free will, and I +will rescue her from the hands of her oppressors. Will you not, +Miss Louisa, assist me in my capture?" + +"I will certainly, by the aid of Divine Providence," answered Louisa, +"endeavor to break those slavish chains that bind the richest of prizes; +though allow me, Major, to entreat you to use no harsh means on this +important occasion; take a decided stand, and write freely to Ambulinia +upon this subject, and I will see that no intervening cause hinders +its passage to her. God alone will save a mourning people. Now is +the day and now is the hour to obey a command of such valuable worth." +The Major felt himself grow stronger after this short interview +with Louisa. He felt as if he could whip his weight in wildcats-- +he knew he was master of his own feelings, and could now write +a letter that would bring this litigation to AN ISSUE. + + + +Cumming, January 24, 1844. + +Dear Ambulinia-- + + +We have now reached the most trying moment of our lives; we are +pledged not to forsake our trust; we have waited for a favorable hour +to come, thinking your friends would settle the matter agreeably +among themselves, and finally be reconciled to our marriage; +but as I have waited in vain, and looked in vain, I have determined +in my own mind to make a proposition to you, though you may think +it not in accord with your station, or compatible with your rank; +yet, "sub loc signo vinces." You know I cannot resume my visits, +in consequence of the utter hostility that your father has to me; +therefore the consummation of our union will have to be sought +for in a more sublime sphere, at the residence of a respectable +friend of this village. You cannot have an scruples upon this +mode of proceeding, if you will but remember it emanates from one +who loves you better than his own life--who is more than anxious +to bid you welcome to a new and happy home. Your warmest associates +say come; the talented, the learned, the wise, and the experienced +say come;--all these with their friends say, come. Viewing these, +with many other inducements, I flatter myself that you will come +to the embraces of your Elfonzo; for now is the time of your +acceptance of the day of your liberation. You cannot be ignorant, +Ambulinia, that thou art the desire of my heart; its thoughts +are too noble, and too pure, to conceal themselves from you. +I shall wait for your answer to this impatiently, expecting that you +will set the time to make your departure, and to be in readiness +at a moment's warning to share the joys of a more preferable life. +This will be handed to you by Louisa, who will take a pleasure in +communicating anything to you that may relieve your dejected spirits, +and will assure you that I now stand ready, willing, and waiting +to make good my vows. + +I am, dear Ambulinia, your + +truly, and forever, + +J. I. Elfonzo. + + + +Louisa made it convenient to visit Mr. Valeer's, though they +did not suspect her in the least the bearer of love epistles; +consequently, she was invited in the room to console Ambulinia, +where they were left alone. Ambulinia was seated by a small table-- +her head resting on her hand--her brilliant eyes were bathed in tears. +Louisa handed her the letter of Elfonzo, when another spirit animated +her features--the spirit of renewed confidence that never fails +to strengthen the female character in an hour of grief and sorrow +like this, and as she pronounced the last accent of his name, +she exclaimed, "And does he love me yet! I never will forget +your generosity, Louisa. Oh, unhappy and yet blessed Louisa! may you +never feel what I have felt--may you never know the pangs of love. +Had I never loved, I never would have been unhappy; but I turn to Him +who can save, and if His wisdom does not will my expected union, +I know He will give me strength to bear my lot. Amuse yourself +with this little book, and take it as an apology for my silence," +said Ambulinia, "while I attempt to answer this volume of consolation." +"Thank you," said Louisa, "you are excusable upon this occasion; +but I pray you, Ambulinia, to be expert upon this momentous subject, +that there may be nothing mistrustful upon my part." "I will," +said Ambulinia, and immediately resumed her seat and addressed the +following to Elfonzo: + + + +Cumming, Ga., January 28, 1844. + +Devoted Elfonzo-- + + +I hail your letter as a welcome messenger of faith, and can now +say truly and firmly that my feelings correspond with yours. +Nothing shall be wanting on my part to make my obedience your fidelity. +Courage and perseverance will accomplish success. Receive this +as my oath, that while I grasp your hand in my own imagination, +we stand united before a higher tribunal than any on earth. +All the powers of my life, soul, and body, I devote to thee. +Whatever dangers may threaten me, I fear not to encounter them. +Perhaps I have determined upon my own destruction, by leaving +the house of the best of parents; be it so; I flee to you; I share +your destiny, faithful to the end. The day that I have concluded +upon for this task is SABBATH next, when the family with the citizens +are generally at church. For Heaven's sake let not that day +pass unimproved: trust not till tomorrow, it is the cheat of life-- +the future that never comes--the grave of many noble births-- +the cavern of ruined enterprise: which like the lightning's +flash is born, and dies, and perishes, ere the voice of him +who sees can cry, BEHOLD! BEHOLD!! You may trust to what I say, +no power shall tempt me to betray confidence. Suffer me to add one +word more. + + +I will soothe thee, in all thy grief, + +Beside the gloomy river; + +And though thy love may yet be brief; + +Mine is fixed forever. + + +Receive the deepest emotions of my heart for thy constant love, +and may the power of inspiration by thy guide, thy portion, and thy all. +In great haste, + +Yours faithfully, + +Ambulinia. + + + +"I now take my leave of you, sweet girl," said Louisa, "sincerely +wishing you success on Sabbath next." When Ambulinia's letter was +handed to Elfonzo, he perused it without doubting its contents. +Louisa charged him to make but few confidants; but like most young +men who happened to win the heart of a beautiful girl, he was so +elated with the idea that he felt as a commanding general on parade, +who had confidence in all, consequently gave orders to all. +The appointed Sabbath, with a delicious breeze and cloudless sky, +made its appearance. The people gathered in crowds to the church-- +the streets were filled with neighboring citizens, all marching +to the house of worship. It is entirely useless for me to attempt +to describe the feelings of Elfonzo and Ambulinia, who were silently +watching the movements of the multitude, apparently counting them as then +entered the house of God, looking for the last one to darken the door. +The impatience and anxiety with which they waited, and the bliss +they anticipated on the eventful day, is altogether indescribable. +Those that have been so fortunate as to embark in such a noble +enterprise know all its realities; and those who have not had this +inestimable privilege will have to taste its sweets before they can +tell to others its joys, its comforts, and its Heaven-born worth. +Immediately after Ambulinia had assisted the family off to church, +she took advantage of that opportunity to make good her promises. +She left a home of enjoyment to be wedded to one whose love had +been justifiable. A few short steps brought her to the presence +of Louisa, who urged her to make good use of her time, and not +to delay a moment, but to go with her to her brother's house, +where Elfonzo would forever make her happy. With lively speed, +and yet a graceful air, she entered the door and found herself +protected by the champion of her confidence. The necessary +arrangements were fast making to have the two lovers united-- +everything was in readiness except the parson; and as they are +generally very sanctimonious on such occasions, the news got +to the parents of Ambulinia before the everlasting knot was tied, +and they both came running, with uplifted hands and injured feelings, +to arrest their daughter from an unguarded and hasty resolution. +Elfonzo desired to maintain his ground, but Ambulinia thought +it best for him to leave, to prepare for a greater contest. +He accordingly obeyed, as it would have been a vain endeavor for him +to have battled against a man who was armed with deadly weapons; +and besides, he could not resist the request of such a pure heart. +Ambulinia concealed herself in the upper story of the house, fearing +the rebuke of her father; the door was locked, and no chastisement +was now expected. Esquire Valeer, whose pride was already touched, +resolved to preserve the dignity of his family. He entered the house +almost exhausted, looking wildly for Ambulinia. "Amazed and astonished +indeed I am," said he, "at a people who call themselves civilized, +to allow such behavior as this. Ambulinia, Ambulinia!" he cried, +"come to the calls of your first, your best, and your only friend. +I appeal to you, sir," turning to the gentleman of the house, +"to know where Ambulinia has gone, or where is she?" "Do you mean +to insult me, sir, in my own house?" inquired the gentleman. +"I will burst," said Mr. V., "asunder every door in your dwelling, +in search of my daughter, if you do not speak quickly, and tell me +where she is. I care nothing about that outcast rubbish of creation, +that mean, low-lived Elfonzo, if I can but obtain Ambulinia. +Are you not going to open this door?" said he. "By the Eternal +that made Heaven and earth! I will go about the work instantly, +if this is not done!" The confused citizens gathered from all +parts of the village, to know the cause of this commotion. +Some rushed into the house; the door that was locked flew open, +and there stood Ambulinia, weeping. "Father, be still," said she, +"and I will follow thee home." But the agitated man seized her, +and bore her off through the gazing multitude. "Father!" she exclaimed, +"I humbly beg your pardon--I will be dutiful--I will obey thy commands. +Let the sixteen years I have lived in obedience to thee by my +future security." "I don't like to be always giving credit, +when the old score is not paid up, madam," said the father. The mother +followed almost in a state of derangement, crying and imploring +her to think beforehand, and ask advice from experienced persons, +and they would tell her it was a rash undertaking. "Oh!" said she, +"Ambulinia, my daughter, did you know what I have suffered-- +did you know how many nights I have whiled away in agony, +in pain, and in fear, you would pity the sorrows of a heartbroken +mother." + +"Well, mother," replied Ambulinia, "I know I have been disobedient; +I am aware that what I have done might have been done much better; +but oh! what shall I do with my honor? it is so dear to me; +I am pledged to Elfonzo. His high moral worth is certainly worth +some attention; moreover, my vows, I have no doubt, are recorded +in the book of life, and must I give these all up? must my fair +hopes be forever blasted? Forbid it, father; oh! forbid it, mother; +forbid it, Heaven." "I have seen so many beautiful skies overclouded," +replied the mother, "so many blossoms nipped by the frost, +that I am afraid to trust you to the care of those fair days, +which may be interrupted by thundering and tempestuous nights. +You no doubt think as I did--life's devious ways were strewn with +sweet-scented flowers, but ah! how long they have lingered around me +and took their flight in the vivid hope that laughs at the drooping +victims it has murdered." Elfonzo was moved at this sight. +The people followed on to see what was going to become of Ambulinia, +while he, with downcast looks, kept at a distance, until he saw +them enter the abode of the father, thrusting her, that was the +sigh of his soul, out of his presence into a solitary apartment, +when she exclaimed, "Elfonzo! Elfonzo! oh, Elfonzo! where art thou, +with all thy heroes? haste, oh! haste, come thou to my relief. +Ride on the wings of the wind! Turn thy force loose like a tempest, +and roll on thy army like a whirlwind, over this mountain of trouble +and confusion. Oh, friends! if any pity me, let your last efforts +throng upon the green hills, and come to the relief of Ambulinia, +who is guilty of nothing but innocent love." Elfonzo called out with +a loud voice, "My God, can I stand this! arise up, I beseech you, +and put an end to this tyranny. Come, my brave boys," said he, +"are you ready to go forth to your duty?" They stood around him. +"Who," said he, "will call us to arms? Where are my thunderbolts of war? +Speak ye, the first who will meet the foe! Who will go forward with me +in this ocean of grievous temptation? If there is one who desires +to go, let him come and shake hands upon the altar of devotion, +and swear that he will be a hero; yes, a Hector in a cause like this, +which calls aloud for a speedy remedy." "Mine be the deed," +said a young lawyer, "and mine alone; Venus alone shall quit her +station before I will forsake one jot or tittle of my promise to you; +what is death to me? what is all this warlike army, if it is not +to win a victory? I love the sleep of the lover and the mighty; +nor would I give it over till the blood of my enemies should wreak +with that of my own. But God forbid that our fame should soar +on the blood of the slumberer." Mr. Valeer stands at his door +with the frown of a demon upon his brow, with his dangerous +weapon ready to strike the first man who should enter his door. +"Who will arise and go forward through blood and carnage to the rescue +of my Ambulinia?" said Elfonzo. "All," exclaimed the multitude; +and onward they went, with their implements of battle. Others, of a +more timid nature, stood among the distant hills to see the result of +the contest. + +Elfonzo took the lead of his band. Night arose in clouds; +darkness concealed the heavens; but the blazing hopes that stimulated +them gleamed in every bosom. All approached the anxious spot; +they rushed to the front of the house and, with one exclamation, +demanded Ambulinia. "Away, begone, and disturb my peace no more," +said Mr. Valeer. "You are a set of base, insolent, and infernal rascals. +Go, the northern star points your path through the dim twilight of +the night; go, and vent your spite upon the lonely hills; pour forth +your love, you poor, weak-minded wretch, upon your idleness and upon +your guitar, and your fiddle; they are fit subjects for your admiration, +for let me assure you, though this sword and iron lever are cankered, +yet they frown in sleep, and let one of you dare to enter my +house this night and you shall have the contents and the weight +of these instruments." "Never yet did base dishonor blur my name," +said Elfonzo; "mine is a cause of renown; here are my warriors; +fear and tremble, for this night, though hell itself should oppose, +I will endeavor to avenge her whom thou hast banished in solitude. +The voice of Ambulinia shall be heard from that dark dungeon." +At that moment Ambulinia appeared at the window above, and with a +tremulous voice said, "Live, Elfonzo! oh! live to raise my stone +of moss! why should such language enter your heart? why should thy +voice rend the air with such agitation? I bid thee live, once more +remembering these tears of mine are shed alone for thee, in this dark +and gloomy vault, and should I perish under this load of trouble, +join the song of thrilling accents with the raven above my grave, +and lay this tattered frame beside the banks of the Chattahoochee +or the stream of Sawney's brook; sweet will be the song of death to +your Ambulinia. My ghost shall visit you in the smiles of Paradise, +and tell your high fame to the minds of that region, which is far more +preferable than this lonely cell. My heart shall speak for thee till +the latest hour; I know faint and broken are the sounds of sorrow, +yet our souls, Elfonzo, shall hear the peaceful songs together. +One bright name shall be ours on high, if we are not permitted to be +united here; bear in mind that I still cherish my old sentiments, +and the poet will mingle the names of Elfonzo and Ambulinia +in the tide of other days." "Fly, Elfonzo, " said the voices +of his united band, "to the wounded heart of your beloved. +All enemies shall fall beneath thy sword. Fly through the clefts, +and the dim spark shall sleep in death." Elfonzo rushes forward +and strikes his shield against the door, which was barricaded, +to prevent any intercourse. His brave sons throng around him. +The people pour along the streets, both male and female, to prevent or +witness the melancholy scene. + +"To arms, to arms!" cried Elfonzo; "here is a victory to be won, +a prize to be gained that is more to me that the whole world beside." +"It cannot be done tonight," said Mr. Valeer. "I bear the clang +of death; my strength and armor shall prevail. My Ambulinia shall +rest in this hall until the break of another day, and if we fall, +we fall together. If we die, we die clinging to our tattered rights, +and our blood alone shall tell the mournful tale of a murdered +daughter and a ruined father." Sure enough, he kept watch all night, +and was successful in defending his house and family. The bright +morning gleamed upon the hills, night vanished away, the Major +and his associates felt somewhat ashamed that they had not been as +fortunate as they expected to have been; however, they still leaned +upon their arms in dispersed groups; some were walking the streets, +others were talking in the Major's behalf. Many of the citizen +suspended business, as the town presented nothing but consternation. +A novelty that might end in the destruction of some worthy +and respectable citizens. Mr. Valeer ventured in the streets, +though not without being well armed. Some of his friends congratulated +him on the decided stand he had taken, and hoped he would settle +the matter amicably with Elfonzo, without any serious injury. +"Me," he replied, "what, me, condescend to fellowship with a coward, +and a low-lived, lazy, undermining villain? no, gentlemen, this cannot be; +I had rather be borne off, like the bubble upon the dark blue ocean, +with Ambulinia by my side, than to have him in the ascending +or descending line of relationship. Gentlemen," continued he, +"if Elfonzo is so much of a distinguished character, and is so +learned in the fine arts, why do you not patronize such men? why +not introduce him into your families, as a gentleman of taste +and of unequaled magnanimity? why are you so very anxious that he +should become a relative of mine? Oh, gentlemen, I fear you yet +are tainted with the curiosity of our first parents, who were +beguiled by the poisonous kiss of an old ugly serpent, and who, +for one APPLE, DAMNED all mankind. I wish to divest myself, as far +as possible, of that untutored custom. I have long since learned +that the perfection of wisdom, and the end of true philosophy, +is to proportion our wants to our possessions, our ambition to +our capacities; we will then be a happy and a virtuous people." +Ambulinia was sent off to prepare for a long and tedious journey. +Her new acquaintances had been instructed by her father how to treat her, +and in what manner, and to keep the anticipated visit entirely secret. +Elfonzo was watching the movements of everybody; some friends +had told him of the plot that was laid to carry off Ambulinia. +At night, he rallied some two or three of his forces, and went +silently along to the stately mansion; a faint and glimmering light +showed through the windows; lightly he steps to the door; there were +many voices rallying fresh in fancy's eye; he tapped the shutter; +it was opened instantly, and he beheld once more, seated beside +several ladies, the hope of all his toils; he rushed toward her, +she rose from her seat, rejoicing; he made one mighty grasp, +when Ambulinia exclaimed, "Huzza for Major Elfonzo! I will defend +myself and you, too, with this conquering instrument I hold in my hand; +huzza, I say, I now invoke time's broad wing to shed around us some +dewdrops of verdant spring." + +But the hour had not come for this joyous reunion; her friends +struggled with Elfonzo for some time, and finally succeeded +in arresting her from his hands. He dared not injure them, +because they were matrons whose courage needed no spur; +she was snatched from the arms of Elfonzo, with so much eagerness, +and yet with such expressive signification, that he calmly withdrew +from this lovely enterprise, with an ardent hope that he should be +lulled to repose by the zephyrs which whispered peace to his soul. +Several long days and night passed unmolested, all seemed to have +grounded their arms of rebellion, and no callidity appeared to be +going on with any of the parties. Other arrangements were made +by Ambulinia; she feigned herself to be entirely the votary of a +mother's care, and she, by her graceful smiles, that manhood might +claim his stern dominion in some other region, where such boisterous +love was not so prevalent. This gave the parents a confidence +that yielded some hours of sober joy; they believed that Ambulinia +would now cease to love Elfonzo, and that her stolen affections +would now expire with her misguided opinions. They therefore +declined the idea of sending her to a distant land. But oh! they +dreamed not of the rapture that dazzled the fancy of Ambulinia, +who would say, when alone, youth should not fly away on his rosy +pinions, and leave her to grapple in the conflict with unknown admirers. + + +No frowning age shall control + +The constant current of my soul, + +Nor a tear from pity's eye + +Shall check my sympathetic sigh. + + +With this resolution fixed in her mind, one dark and dreary night, +when the winds whistled and the tempest roared, she received intelligence +that Elfonzo was then waiting, and every preparation was then ready, +at the residence of Dr. Tully, and for her to make a quick escape +while the family was reposing. Accordingly she gathered her books, +went the wardrobe supplied with a variety of ornamental dressing, +and ventured alone in the streets to make her way to Elfonzo, +who was near at hand, impatiently looking and watching her arrival. +"What forms," said she, "are those rising before me? What is +that dark spot on the clouds? I do wonder what frightful ghost +that is, gleaming on the red tempest? Oh, be merciful and tell me +what region you are from. Oh, tell me, ye strong spirits, or ye +dark and fleeting clouds, that I yet have a friend." "A friend," +said a low, whispering voice. "I am thy unchanging, thy aged, +and thy disappointed mother. Why brandish in that hand of thine +a javelin of pointed steel? Why suffer that lip I have kissed +a thousand times to equivocate? My daughter, let these tears sink +deep into thy soul, and no longer persist in that which may be your +destruction and ruin. Come, my dear child, retract your steps, +and bear me company to your welcome home." Without one retorting word, +or frown from her brow, she yielded to the entreaties of her mother, +and with all the mildness of her former character she went along +with the silver lamp of age, to the home of candor and benevolence. +Her father received her cold and formal politeness--"Where has +Ambulinia been, this blustering evening, Mrs. Valeer?" inquired he. +"Oh, she and I have been taking a solitary walk," said the mother; +"all things, I presume, are now working for the best." + +Elfonzo heard this news shortly after it happened. "What," said he, +"has heaven and earth turned against me? I have been disappointed +times without number. Shall I despair?--must I give it over? +Heaven's decrees will not fade; I will write again--I will try again; +and if it traverses a gory field, I pray forgiveness at the altar +of justice." + + + +Desolate Hill, Cumming, Geo., 1844. + +Unconquered and Beloved Ambulinia-- + +I have only time to say to you, not to despair; thy fame shall +not perish; my visions are brightening before me. The whirlwind's +rage is past, and we now shall subdue our enemies without doubt. +On Monday morning, when your friends are at breakfast, they will +not suspect your departure, or even mistrust me being in town, +as it has been reported advantageously that I have left for the west. +You walk carelessly toward the academy grove, where you will find +me with a lightning steed, elegantly equipped to bear you off where +we shall be joined in wedlock with the first connubial rights. +Fail not to do this--think not of the tedious relations of our wrongs-- +be invincible. You alone occupy all my ambition, and I alone will +make you my happy spouse, with the same unimpeached veracity. +I remain, forever, your devoted friend and admirer, J. L. Elfonzo. + + + +The appointed day ushered in undisturbed by any clouds; nothing disturbed +Ambulinia's soft beauty. With serenity and loveliness she obeys +the request of Elfonzo. The moment the family seated themselves +at the table--"Excuse my absence for a short time," said she, +"while I attend to the placing of those flowers, which should have +been done a week ago." And away she ran to the sacred grove, +surrounded with glittering pearls, that indicated her coming. +Elfonzo hails her with his silver bow and his golden harp. They meet-- +Ambulinia's countenance brightens--Elfonzo leads up his winged steed. +"Mount," said he, "ye true-hearted, ye fearless soul--the day +is ours." She sprang upon the back of the young thunder bolt, +a brilliant star sparkles upon her head, with one hand she +grasps the reins, and with the other she holds an olive branch. +"Lend thy aid, ye strong winds," they exclaimed, "ye moon, ye sun, +and all ye fair host of heaven, witness the enemy conquered." +"Hold," said Elfonzo, "thy dashing steed." "Ride on," said Ambulinia, +"the voice of thunder is behind us." And onward they went, +with such rapidity that they very soon arrived at Rural Retreat, +where they dismounted, and were united with all the solemnities +that usually attend such divine operations. They passed the day +in thanksgiving and great rejoicing, and on that evening they +visited their uncle, where many of their friends and acquaintances +had gathered to congratulate them in the field of untainted bliss. +The kind old gentleman met them in the yard: "Well," said he, "I wish +I may die, Elfonzo, if you and Ambulinia haven't tied a knot with your +tongue that you can't untie with your teeth. But come in, come in, +never mind, all is right--the world still moves on, and no one has +fallen in this great battle." + +Happy now is there lot! Unmoved by misfortune, they live among the +fair beauties of the South. Heaven spreads their peace and fame upon +the arch of the rainbow, and smiles propitiously at their triumph, +THROUGH THE TEARS OF THE STORM. + + +*** + + + +THE CALIFORNIAN'S TALE + + + +Thirty-five years ago I was out prospecting on the Stanislaus, +tramping all day long with pick and pan and horn, and washing a hatful +of dirt here and there, always expecting to make a rich strike, +and never doing it. It was a lovely reason, woodsy, balmy, delicious, +and had once been populous, long years before, but now the +people had vanished and the charming paradise was a solitude. +They went away when the surface diggings gave out. In one place, +where a busy little city with banks and newspapers and fire companies +and a mayor and aldermen had been, was nothing but a wide expanse +of emerald turf, with not even the faintest sign that human life +had ever been present there. This was down toward Tuttletown. +In the country neighborhood thereabouts, along the dusty roads, +one found at intervals the prettiest little cottage homes, snug and cozy, +and so cobwebbed with vines snowed thick with roses that the doors +and windows were wholly hidden from sight--sign that these were +deserted homes, forsaken years ago by defeated and disappointed +families who could neither sell them nor give them away. Now and then, +half an hour apart, one came across solitary log cabins of the earliest +mining days, built by the first gold-miners, the predecessors of the +cottage-builders. In some few cases these cabins were still occupied; +and when this was so, you could depend upon it that the occupant +was the very pioneer who had built the cabin; and you could depend +on another thing, too--that he was there because he had once had +his opportunity to go home to the States rich, and had not done it; +had rather lost his wealth, and had then in his humiliation resolved +to sever all communication with his home relatives and friends, +and be to them thenceforth as one dead. Round about California +in that day were scattered a host of these living dead men-- +pride-smitten poor fellows, grizzled and old at forty, whose secret +thoughts were made all of regrets and longings--regrets for their +wasted lives, and longings to be out of the struggle and done with it all. + +It was a lonesome land! Not a sound in all those peaceful expanses +of grass and woods but the drowsy hum of insects; no glimpse +of man or beast; nothing to keep up your spirits and make you glad +to be alive. And so, at last, in the early part of the afternoon, +when I caught sight of a human creature, I felt a most grateful uplift. +This person was a man about forty-five years old, and he was +standing at the gate of one of those cozy little rose-clad cottages +of the sort already referred to. However, this one hadn't +a deserted look; it had the look of being lived in and petted +and cared for and looked after; and so had its front yard, +which was a garden of flowers, abundant, gay, and flourishing. +I was invited in, of course, and required to make myself at home-- +it was the custom of the country.. + +It was delightful to be in such a place, after long weeks of daily +and nightly familiarity with miners' cabins--with all which this +implies of dirt floor, never-made beds, tin plates and cups, +bacon and beans and black coffee, and nothing of ornament but war +pictures from the Eastern illustrated papers tacked to the log walls. +That was all hard, cheerless, materialistic desolation, but here was a +nest which had aspects to rest the tired eye and refresh that something +in one's nature which, after long fasting, recognizes, when confronted +by the belongings of art, howsoever cheap and modest they may be, +that it has unconsciously been famishing and now has found nourishment. +I could not have believed that a rag carpet could feast me so, +and so content me; or that there could be such solace to the soul +in wall-paper and framed lithographs, and bright-colored tidies +and lamp-mats, and Windsor chairs, and varnished what-nots, with +sea-shells and books and china vases on them, and the score of little +unclassifiable tricks and touches that a woman's hand distributes +about a home, which one sees without knowing he sees them, yet would +miss in a moment if they were taken away. The delight that was +in my heart showed in my face, and the man saw it and was pleased; +saw it so plainly that he answered it as if it had been spoken. + +"All her work," he said, caressingly; "she did it all herself-- +every bit," and he took the room in with a glance which was full +of affectionate worship. One of those soft Japanese fabrics +with which women drape with careful negligence the upper part of a +picture-frame was out of adjustment. He noticed it, and rearranged +it with cautious pains, stepping back several times to gauge +the effect before he got it to suit him. Then he gave it a light +finishing pat or two with his hand, and said: "She always does that. +You can't tell just what it lacks, but it does lack something +until you've done that--you can see it yourself after it's done, +but that is all you know; you can't find out the law of it. +It's like the finishing pats a mother gives the child's hair +after she's got it combed and brushed, I reckon. I've seen her +fix all these things so much that I can do them all just her way, +though I don't know the law of any of them. But she knows the law. +She knows the why and the how both; but I don't know the why; +I only know the how." + +He took me into a bedroom so that I might wash my hands; such a bedroom +as I had not seen for years: white counterpane, white pillows, +carpeted floor, papered walls, pictures, dressing-table, with mirror +and pin-cushion and dainty toilet things; and in the corner a wash-stand, +with real china-ware bowl and pitcher, and with soap in a china dish, +and on a rack more than a dozen towels--towels too clean and white +for one out of practice to use without some vague sense of profanation. +So my face spoke again, and he answered with gratified words: + +"All her work; she did it all herself--every bit. Nothing here +that hasn't felt the touch of her hand. Now you would think-- +But I mustn't talk so much." + +By this time I was wiping my hands and glancing from detail to detail +of the room's belongings, as one is apt to do when he is in a new place, +where everything he sees is a comfort to his eye and his spirit; +and I became conscious, in one of those unaccountable ways, +you know, that there was something there somewhere that the man +wanted me to discover for myself. I knew it perfectly, and I knew +he was trying to help me by furtive indications with his eye, so I +tried hard to get on the right track, being eager to gratify him. +I failed several times, as I could see out of the corner of my eye +without being told; but at last I knew I must be looking straight +at the thing--knew it from the pleasure issuing in invisible waves +from him. He broke into a happy laugh, and rubbed his hands together, +and cried out: + +"That's it! You've found it. I knew you would. It's her picture." + +I went to the little black-walnut bracket on the farther wall, +and did find there what I had not yet noticed--a daguerreotype-case. +It contained the sweetest girlish face, and the most beautiful, +as it seemed to me, that I had ever seen. The man drank the admiration +from my face, and was fully satisfied. + +"Nineteen her last birthday," he said, as he put the picture back; +"and that was the day we were married. When you see her--ah, just wait +till you see her!" + +"Where is she? When will she be in?" + +"Oh, she's away now. She's gone to see her people. They live +forty or fifty miles from here. She's been gone two weeks today." + +"When do you expect her back?" + +"This is Wednesday. She'll be back Saturday, in the evening-- +about nine o'clock, likely." + +I felt a sharp sense of disappointment. + +"I'm sorry, because I'll be gone then," I said, regretfully. + +"Gone? No--why should you go? Don't go. She'll be disappointed." + +She would be disappointed--that beautiful creature! If she had said +the words herself they could hardly have blessed me more. I was +feeling a deep, strong longing to see her--a longing so supplicating, +so insistent, that it made me afraid. I said to myself: "I will +go straight away from this place, for my peace of mind's sake." + +"You see, she likes to have people come and stop with us-- +people who know things, and can talk--people like you. She delights +in it; for she knows--oh, she knows nearly everything herself, +and can talk, oh, like a bird--and the books she reads, why, you would +be astonished. Don't go; it's only a little while, you know, +and she'll be so disappointed." + +I heard the words, but hardly noticed them, I was so deep in my +thinkings and strugglings. He left me, but I didn't know. +Presently he was back, with the picture case in his hand, and he +held it open before me and said: + +"There, now, tell her to her face you could have stayed to see her, +and you wouldn't." + +That second glimpse broke down my good resolution. I would stay +and take the risk. That night we smoked the tranquil pipe, +and talked till late about various things, but mainly about her; +and certainly I had had no such pleasant and restful time for many +a day. The Thursday followed and slipped comfortably away. +Toward twilight a big miner from three miles away came--one of +the grizzled, stranded pioneers--and gave us warm salutation, +clothed in grave and sober speech. Then he said: + +"I only just dropped over to ask about the little madam, and when +is she coming home. Any news from her?" + +"Oh, yes, a letter. Would you like to hear it, Tom?" + +"Well, I should think I would, if you don't mind, Henry!" + +Henry got the letter out of his wallet, and said he would skip +some of the private phrases, if we were willing; then he went +on and read the bulk of it--a loving, sedate, and altogether +charming and gracious piece of handiwork, with a postscript full +of affectionate regards and messages to Tom, and Joe, and Charley, +and other close friends and neighbors. + +As the reader finished, he glanced at Tom, and cried out: + +"Oho, you're at it again! Take your hands away, and let me see +your eyes. You always do that when I read a letter from her. +I will write and tell her." + +"Oh no, you mustn't, Henry. I'm getting old, you know, and any +little disappointment makes me want to cry. I thought she'd +be here herself, and now you've got only a letter." + +"Well, now, what put that in your head? I thought everybody knew +she wasn't coming till Saturday." + +"Saturday! Why, come to think, I did know it. I wonder +what's the matter with me lately? Certainly I knew it. +Ain't we all getting ready for her? Well, I must be going now. +But I'll be on hand when she comes, old man!" + +Late Friday afternoon another gray veteran tramped over from his +cabin a mile or so away, and said the boys wanted to have a little +gaiety and a good time Saturday night, if Henry thought she wouldn't +be too tired after her journey to be kept up. + +"Tired? She tired! Oh, hear the man! Joe, YOU know she'd sit up +six weeks to please any one of you!" + +When Joe heard that there was a letter, he asked to have it read, +and the loving messages in it for him broke the old fellow all up; +but he said he was such an old wreck that THAT would happen to him +if she only just mentioned his name. "Lord, we miss her so!" +he said. + +Saturday afternoon I found I was taking out my watch pretty often. +Henry noticed it, and said, with a startled look: + +"You don't think she ought to be here soon, do you?" + +I felt caught, and a little embarrassed; but I laughed, and said +it was a habit of mine when I was in a state of expenctancy. +But he didn't seem quite satisfied; and from that time on he began +to show uneasiness. Four times he walked me up the road to a point +whence we could see a long distance; and there he would stand, +shading his eyes with his hand, and looking. Several times he said: + +"I'm getting worried, I'm getting right down worried. I know +she's not due till about nine o'clock, and yet something seems +to be trying to warn me that something's happened. You don't +think anything has happened, do you?" + +I began to get pretty thoroughly ashamed of him for his childishness; +and at last, when he repeated that imploring question still another time, +I lost my patience for the moment, and spoke pretty brutally to him. +It seemed to shrivel him up and cow him; and he looked so wounded +and so humble after that, that I detested myself for having done +the cruel and unnecessary thing. And so I was glad when Charley, +another veteran, arrived toward the edge of the evening, and nestled +up to Henry to hear the letter read, and talked over the preparations +for the welcome. Charley fetched out one hearty speech after another, +and did his best to drive away his friend's bodings and apprehensions. + +"Anything HAPPENED to her? Henry, that's pure nonsense. There isn't +anything going to happen to her; just make your mind easy as to that. +What did the letter say? Said she was well, didn't it? And said +she'd be here by nine o'clock, didn't it? Did you ever know her +to fail of her word? Why, you know you never did. Well, then, +don't you fret; she'll BE here, and that's absolutely certain, +and as sure as you are born. Come, now, let's get to decorating-- +not much time left." + +Pretty soon Tom and Joe arrived, and then all hands set about adoring +the house with flowers. Toward nine the three miners said that +as they had brought their instruments they might as well tune up, +for the boys and girls would soon be arriving now, and hungry for +a good, old-fashioned break-down. A fiddle, a banjo, and a clarinet-- +these were the instruments. The trio took their places side by side, +and began to play some rattling dance-music, and beat time with +their big boots. + +It was getting very close to nine. Henry was standing in the door +with his eyes directed up the road, his body swaying to the torture +of his mental distress. He had been made to drink his wife's +health and safety several times, and now Tom shouted: + +"All hands stand by! One more drink, and she's here!" + +Joe brought the glasses on a waiter, and served the party. +I reached for one of the two remaining glasses, but Joe growled +under his breath: + +"Drop that! Take the other." + +Which I did. Henry was served last. He had hardly swallowed his +drink when the clock began to strike. He listened till it finished, +his face growing pale and paler; then he said: + +"Boys, I'm sick with fear. Help me--I want to lie down!" + +They helped him to the sofa. He began to nestle and drowse, +but presently spoke like one talking in his sleep, and said: +"Did I hear horses' feet? Have they come?" + +One of the veterans answered, close to his ear: "It was Jimmy +Parish come to say the party got delayed, but they're right up +the road a piece, and coming along. Her horse is lame, but she'll +be here in half an hour." + +"Oh, I'm SO thankful nothing has happened!" + +He was asleep almost before the words were out of his mouth. +In a moment those handy men had his clothes off, and had tucked +him into his bed in the chamber where I had washed my hands. +They closed the door and came back. Then they seemed preparing to leave; +but I said: "Please don't go, gentlemen. She won't know me; I am +a stranger." + +They glanced at each other. Then Joe said: + +"She? Poor thing, she's been dead nineteen years!" + +"Dead?" + +"That or worse. She went to see her folks half a year after she +was married, and on her way back, on a Saturday evening, the Indians +captured her within five miles of this place, and she's never been +heard of since." + +"And he lost his mind in consequence?" + +"Never has been sane an hour since. But he only gets bad when +that time of year comes round. Then we begin to drop in here, +three days before she's due, to encourage him up, and ask if he's heard +from her, and Saturday we all come and fix up the house with flowers, +and get everything ready for a dance. We've done it every year +for nineteen years. The first Saturday there was twenty-seven +of us, without counting the girls; there's only three of us now, +and the girls are gone. We drug him to sleep, or he would go wild; +then he's all right for another year--thinks she's with him till the +last three or four days come round; then he begins to look for her, +and gets out his poor old letter, and we come and ask him to read it +to us. Lord, she was a darling!" + + +*** + + + + +A HELPLESS SITUATION + + + +Once or twice a year I get a letter of a certain pattern, +a pattern that never materially changes, in form and substance, +yet I cannot get used to that letter--it always astonishes me. +It affects me as the locomotive always affects me: I saw to myself, +"I have seen you a thousand times, you always look the same way, +yet you are always a wonder, and you are always impossible; to contrive +you is clearly beyond human genius--you can't exist, you don't exist, +yet here you are!" + +I have a letter of that kind by me, a very old one. I yearn to print it, +and where is the harm? The writer of it is dead years ago, no doubt, +and if I conceal her name and address--her this-world address-- +I am sure her shade will not mind. And with it I wish to print +the answer which I wrote at the time but probably did not send. +If it went--which is not likely--it went in the form of a copy, +for I find the original still here, pigeonholed with the said letter. +To that kind of letters we all write answers which we do not send, +fearing to hurt where we have no desire to hurt; I have done it many +a time, and this is doubtless a case of the sort. + + +THE LETTER + + +X------, California, JUNE 3, 1879. + +Mr. S. L. Clemens, HARTFORD, CONN.: + + +Dear Sir,--You will doubtless be surprised to know who has presumed +to write and ask a favor of you. let your memory go back to your days +in the Humboldt mines--'62-'63. You will remember, you and Clagett +and Oliver and the old blacksmith Tillou lived in a lean-to which was +half-way up the gulch, and there were six log cabins in the camp-- +strung pretty well separated up the gulch from its mouth at the +desert to where the last claim was, at the divide. The lean-to +you lived in was the one with a canvas roof that the cow fell down +through one night, as told about by you in ROUGHING IT--my uncle +Simmons remembers it very well. He lived in the principal cabin, +half-way up the divide, along with Dixon and Parker and Smith. +It had two rooms, one for kitchen and the other for bunks, +and was the only one that had. You and your party were there on +the great night, the time they had dried-apple-pie, Uncle Simmons +often speaks of it. It seems curious that dried-apple-pie should +have seemed such a great thing, but it was, and it shows how far +Humboldt was out of the world and difficult to get to, and how slim +the regular bill of fare was. Sixteen years ago--it is a long time. +I was a little girl then, only fourteen. I never saw you, I lived +in Washoe. But Uncle Simmons ran across you every now and then, +all during those weeks that you and party were there working +your claim which was like the rest. The camp played out long +and long ago, there wasn't silver enough in it to make a button. +You never saw my husband, but he was there after you left, AND LIVED +IN THAT VERY LEAN-TO, a bachelor then but married to me now. +He often wishes there had been a photographer there in those days, +he would have taken the lean-to. He got hurt in the old Hal Clayton +claim that was abandoned like the others, putting in a blast +and not climbing out quick enough, though he scrambled the best +he could. It landed him clear down on the train and hit a Piute. +For weeks they thought he would not get over it but he did, +and is all right, now. Has been ever since. This is a long +introduction but it is the only way I can make myself known. +The favor I ask I feel assured your generous heart will grant: +Give me some advice about a book I have written. I do not claim +anything for it only it is mostly true and as interesting as most +of the books of the times. I am unknown in the literary world +and you know what that means unless one has some one of influence +(like yourself) to help you by speaking a good word for you. +I would like to place the book on royalty basis plan with any one you +would suggest. + +This is a secret from my husband and family. I intend +it as a surprise in case I get it published. + +Feeling you will take an interest in this and if possible write +me a letter to some publisher, or, better still, if you could see +them for me and then let me hear. + +I appeal to you to grant me this favor. With deepest gratitude I +think you for your attention. + + +One knows, without inquiring, that the twin of that embarrassing +letter is forever and ever flying in this and that and the other +direction across the continent in the mails, daily, nightly, hourly, +unceasingly, unrestingly. It goes to every well-known merchant, +and railway official, and manufacturer, and capitalist, and Mayor, +and Congressman, and Governor, and editor, and publisher, and author, +and broker, and banker--in a word, to every person who is supposed +to have "influence." It always follows the one pattern: "You do +not know me, BUT YOU ONCE KNEW A RELATIVE OF MINE," etc., etc. +We should all like to help the applicants, we should all be glad +to do it, we should all like to return the sort of answer that +is desired, but--Well, there is not a thing we can do that would +be a help, for not in any instance does that latter ever come from +anyone who CAN be helped. The struggler whom you COULD help does +his own helping; it would not occur to him to apply to you, stranger. +He has talent and knows it, and he goes into his fight eagerly and +with energy and determination--all alone, preferring to be alone. +That pathetic letter which comes to you from the incapable, +the unhelpable--how do you who are familiar with it answer it? +What do you find to say? You do not want to inflict a wound; +you hunt ways to avoid that. What do you find? How do you get out +of your hard place with a contend conscience? Do you try to explain? +The old reply of mine to such a letter shows that I tried that once. +Was I satisfied with the result? Possibly; and possibly not; +probably not; almost certainly not. I have long ago forgotten all +about it. But, anyway, I append my effort: + + +THE REPLY + + +I know Mr. H., and I will go to him, dear madam, if upon reflection +you find you still desire it. There will be a conversation. +I know the form it will take. It will be like this: + + +MR. H. How do her books strike you? + +MR. CLEMENS. I am not acquainted with them. + +H. Who has been her publisher? + +C. I don't know. + +H. She HAS one, I suppose? + +C. I--I think not. + +H. Ah. You think this is her first book? + +C. Yes--I suppose so. I think so. + +H. What is it about? What is the character of it? + +C. I believe I do not know. + +H. Have you seen it? + +C. Well--no, I haven't. + +H. Ah-h. How long have you known her? + +C. I don't know her. + +H. Don't know her? + +C. No. + +H. Ah-h. How did you come to be interested in her book, then? + +C. Well, she--she wrote and asked me to find a publisher for her, +and mentioned you. + +H. Why should she apply to you instead of me? + +C. She wished me to use my influence. + +H. Dear me, what has INFLUENCE to do with such a matter? + +C. Well, I think she thought you would be more likely to examine +her book if you were influenced. + +H. Why, what we are here FOR is to examine books--anybody's book +that comes along. It's our BUSINESS. Why should we turn away +a book unexamined because it's a stranger's? It would be foolish. +No publisher does it. On what ground did she request your influence, +since you do not know her? She must have thought you knew her +literature and could speak for it. Is that it? + +C. No; she knew I didn't. + +H. Well, what then? She had a reason of SOME sort for believing you +competent to recommend her literature, and also under obligations +to do it? + +C. Yes, I--I knew her uncle. + +H. Knew her UNCLE? + +C. Yes. + +H. Upon my word! So, you knew her uncle; her uncle knows her literature; +he endorses it to you; the chain is complete, nothing further needed; +you are satisfied, and therefore-- + +C. NO, that isn't all, there are other ties. I know the cabin +her uncle lived in, in the mines; I knew his partners, too; also I +came near knowing her husband before she married him, and I DID +know the abandoned shaft where a premature blast went off and he +went flying through the air and clear down to the trail and hit +an Indian in the back with almost fatal consequences. + +H. To HIM, or to the Indian? + +C. She didn't say which it was. + +H. (WITH A SIGH). It certainly beats the band! You don't know HER, +you don't know her literature, you don't know who got hurt when +the blast went off, you don't know a single thing for us to build +an estimate of her book upon, so far as I-- + +C. I knew her uncle. You are forgetting her uncle. + +H. Oh, what use is HE? Did you know him long? How long was it? + +C. Well, I don't know that I really knew him, but I must have +met him, anyway. I think it was that way; you can't tell about +these things, you know, except when they are recent. + +H. Recent? When was all this? + +C. Sixteen years ago. + +H. What a basis to judge a book upon! As first you said you knew him, +and not you don't know whether you did or not. + +C. Oh yes, I know him; anyway, I think I thought I did; I'm perfectly +certain of it. + +H. What makes you think you thought you knew him? + +C. Why, she says I did, herself. + +H. SHE says so! + +C. Yes, she does, and I DID know him, too, though I don't remember +it now. + +H. Come--how can you know it when you don't remember it. + +C. _I_ don't know. That is, I don't know the process, but I DO know +lots of things that I don't remember, and remember lots of things +that I don't know. It's so with every educated person. + +H. (AFTER A PAUSE). Is your time valuable? + +C. No--well, not very. + +H. Mine is. + +So I came away then, because he was looking tired. Overwork, I reckon; +I never do that; I have seen the evil effects of it. My mother +was always afraid I work overwork myself, but I never did. + +Dear madam, you see how it would happen if I went there. He would +ask me those questions, and I would try to answer them to suit him, +and he would hunt me here and there and yonder and get me embarrassed +more and more all the time, and at last he would look tired on +account of overwork, and there it would end and nothing done. +I wish I could be useful to you, but, you see, they do not +care for uncles or any of those things; it doesn't move them, +it doesn't have the least effect, they don't care for anything +but the literature itself, and they as good as despise influence. +But they do care for books, and are eager to get them and examine them, +no matter whence they come, nor from whose pen. If you will send +yours to a publisher--any publisher--he will certainly examine it, +I can assure you of that. + + +*** + + + +A TELEPHONIC CONVERSATION + + + +Consider that a conversation by telephone--when you are simply siting +by and not taking any part in that conversation--is one of the solemnest +curiosities of modern life. Yesterday I was writing a deep article +on a sublime philosophical subject while such a conversation was +going on in the room. I notice that one can always write best when +somebody is talking through a telephone close by. Well, the thing +began in this way. A member of our household came in and asked me +to have our house put into communication with Mr. Bagley's downtown. +I have observed, in many cities, that the sex always shrink from +calling up the central office themselves. I don't know why, +but they do. So I touched the bell, and this talk ensued: + +CENTRAL OFFICE. (GRUFFY.) Hello! + +I. Is it the Central Office? + +C. O. Of course it is. What do you want? + +I. Will you switch me on to the Bagleys, please? + +C. O. All right. Just keep your ear to the telephone. + +Then I heard K-LOOK, K-LOOK, K'LOOK--KLOOK-KLOOK-KLOOK-LOOK-LOOK! then +a horrible "gritting" of teeth, and finally a piping female voice: +Y-e-s? (RISING INFLECTION.) Did you wish to speak to me? + +Without answering, I handed the telephone to the applicant, and sat down. +Then followed that queerest of all the queer things in this world-- +a conversation with only one end of it. You hear questions asked; +you don't hear the answer. You hear invitations given; you hear +no thanks in return. You have listening pauses of dead silence, +followed by apparently irrelevant and unjustifiable exclamations +of glad surprise or sorrow or dismay. You can't make head or tail +of the talk, because you never hear anything that the person at the +other end of the wire says. Well, I heard the following remarkable +series of observations, all from the one tongue, and all shouted-- +for you can't ever persuade the sex to speak gently into a telephone: + +Yes? Why, how did THAT happen? + +Pause. + +What did you say? + +Pause. + +Oh no, I don't think it was. + +Pause. + +NO! Oh no, I didn't mean THAT. I meant, put it in while it +is still boiling--or just before it COMES to a boil. + +Pause. + +WHAT? + +Pause. + +I turned it over with a backstitch on the selvage edge. + +Pause. + +Yes, I like that way, too; but I think it's better to baste it +on with Valenciennes or bombazine, or something of that sort. +It gives it such an air--and attracts so much noise. + +Pause. + +It's forty-ninth Deuteronomy, sixty-forth to ninety-seventh inclusive. +I think we ought all to read it often. + +Pause. + +Perhaps so; I generally use a hair pin. + +Pause. + +What did you say? (ASIDE.) Children, do be quiet! + +Pause + +OH! B FLAT! Dear me, I thought you said it was the cat! + +Pause. + +Since WHEN? + +Pause. + +Why, _I_ never heard of it. + +Pause. + +You astound me! It seems utterly impossible! + +Pause. + +WHO did? + +Pause. + +Good-ness gracious! + +Pause. + +Well, what IS this world coming to? Was it right in CHURCH? + +Pause. + +And was her MOTHER there? + +Pause. + +Why, Mrs. Bagley, I should have died of humiliation! What did +they DO? + +Long pause. + +I can't be perfectly sure, because I haven't the notes by me; +but I think it goes something like this: te-rolly-loll-loll, loll +lolly-loll-loll, O tolly-loll-loll-LEE-LY-LI-I-do! And then REPEAT, +you know. + +Pause. + +Yes, I think it IS very sweet--and very solemn and impressive, +if you get the andantino and the pianissimo right. + +Pause. + +Oh, gum-drops, gum-drops! But I never allow them to eat striped candy. +And of course they CAN'T, till they get their teeth, anyway. + +Pause. + +WHAT? + +Pause. + +Oh, not in the least--go right on. He's here writing--it doesn't +bother HIM. + +Pause. + +Very well, I'll come if I can. (ASIDE.) Dear me, how it does tire +a person's arm to hold this thing up so long! I wish she'd-- + +Pause. + +Oh no, not at all; I LIKE to talk--but I'm afraid I'm keeping you +from your affairs. + +Pause. + +Visitors? + +Pause. + +No, we never use butter on them. + +Pause. + +Yes, that is a very good way; but all the cook-books say they +are very unhealthy when they are out of season. And HE doesn't +like them, anyway--especially canned. + +Pause. + +Oh, I think that is too high for them; we have never paid over fifty +cents a bunch. + +Pause. + +MUST you go? Well, GOOD-by. + +Pause. + +Yes, I think so. GOOD-by. + +Pause. + +Four o'clock, then--I'll be ready. GOOD-by. + +Pause. + +Thank you ever so much. GOOD-by. + +Pause. + +Oh, not at all!--just as fresh--WHICH? Oh, I'm glad to hear you +say that. GOOD-by. + +(Hangs up the telephone and says, "Oh, it DOES tire a person's +arm so!") + +A man delivers a single brutal "Good-by," and that is the end of it. +Not so with the gentle sex--I say it in their praise; they cannot +abide abruptness. + + + +*** + + +EDWARD MILLS AND GEORGE BENTON: A TALE + + + +These two were distantly related to each other--seventh cousins, +or something of that sort. While still babies they became orphans, +and were adopted by the Brants, a childless couple, who quickly +grew very fond of them. The Brants were always saying: "Be pure, +honest, sober, industrious, and considerate of others, and success +in life is assured." The children heard this repeated some thousands +of times before they understood it; they could repeat it themselves +long before they could say the Lord's Prayer; it was painted over +the nursery door, and was about the first thing they learned to read. +It was destined to be the unswerving rule of Edward Mills's life. +Sometimes the Brants changed the wording a little, and said: +"Be pure, honest, sober, industrious, considerate, and you will never +lack friends." + +Baby Mills was a comfort to everybody about him. When he wanted +candy and could not have it, he listened to reason, and contented +himself without it. When Baby Benton wanted candy, he cried for it +until he got it. Baby Mills took care of his toys; Baby Benton +always destroyed his in a very brief time, and then made himself +to insistently disagreeable that, in order to have peace in the house, +little Edward was persuaded to yield up his play-things to him. + +When the children were a little older, Georgie became a heavy expense +in one respect: he took no care of his clothes; consequently, he +shone frequently in new ones, with was not the case with Eddie. +The boys grew apace. Eddie was an increasing comfort, Georgie an +increasing solicitude. It was always sufficient to say, in answer +to Eddie's petitions, "I would rather you would not do it"-- +meaning swimming, skating, picnicking, berrying, circusing, +and all sorts of things which boys delight in. But NO answer +was sufficient for Georgie; he had to be humored in his desires, +or he would carry them with a high hand. Naturally, no boy got +more swimming skating, berrying, and so forth than he; no body +ever had a better time. The good Brants did not allow the boys +to play out after nine in summer evenings; they were sent to bed +at that hour; Eddie honorably remained, but Georgie usually slipped +out of the window toward ten, and enjoyed himself until midnight. +It seemed impossible to break Georgie of this bad habit, but the +Brants managed it at last by hiring him, with apples and marbles, +to stay in. The good Brants gave all their time and attention +to vain endeavors to regulate Georgie; they said, with grateful +tears in their eyes, that Eddie needed no efforts of theirs, +he was so good, so considerate, and in all ways so perfect. + +By and by the boys were big enough to work, so they were apprenticed +to a trade: Edward went voluntarily; George was coaxed and bribed. +Edward worked hard and faithfully, and ceased to be an expense to the +good Brants; they praised him, so did his master; but George ran away, +and it cost Mr. Brant both money and trouble to hunt him up and get +him back. By and by he ran away again--more money and more trouble. +He ran away a third time--and stole a few things to carry with him. +Trouble and expense for Mr. Brant once more; and, besides, it was with +the greatest difficulty that he succeeded in persuading the master +to let the youth go unprosecuted for the theft. + +Edward worked steadily along, and in time became a full partner +in his master's business. George did not improve; he kept the loving +hearts of his aged benefactors full of trouble, and their hands full +of inventive activities to protect him from ruin. Edward, as a boy, +had interested himself in Sunday-schools, debating societies, +penny missionary affairs, anti-tobacco organizations, anti-profanity +associations, and all such things; as a man, he was a quiet but +steady and reliable helper in the church, the temperance societies, +and in all movements looking to the aiding and uplifting of men. This +excited no remark, attracted no attention--for it was his "natural bent." + +Finally, the old people died. The will testified their loving +pride in Edward, and left their little property to George-- +because he "needed it"; whereas, "owing to a bountiful Providence," +such was not the case with Edward. The property was left to +George conditionally: he must buy out Edward's partner with it; +else it must go to a benevolent organization called the Prisoner's +Friend Society. The old people left a letter, in which they begged +their dear son Edward to take their place and watch over George, +and help and shield him as they had done. + +Edward dutifully acquiesced, and George became his partner in +the business. He was not a valuable partner: he had been meddling +with drink before; he soon developed into a constant tippler now, +and his flesh and eyes showed the fact unpleasantly. Edward had +been courting a sweet and kindly spirited girl for some time. +They loved each other dearly, and--But about this period George began +to haunt her tearfully and imploringly, and at last she went crying +to Edward, and said her high and holy duty was plain before her-- +she must not let her own selfish desires interfere with it: +she must marry "poor George" and "reform him." It would break +her heart, she knew it would, and so on; but duty was duty. +So she married George, and Edward's heart came very near breaking, +as well as her own. However, Edward recovered, and married another girl-- +a very excellent one she was, too. + +Children came to both families. Mary did her honest best to reform +her husband, but the contract was too large. George went on drinking, +and by and by he fell to misusing her and the little ones sadly. +A great many good people strove with George--they were always at it, +in fact--but he calmly took such efforts as his due and their duty, +and did not mend his ways. He added a vice, presently--that of +secret gambling. He got deeply in debt; he borrowed money on the +firm's credit, as quietly as he could, and carried this system so far +and so successfully that one morning the sheriff took possession of +the establishment, and the two cousins found themselves penniless. + +Times were hard, now, and they grew worse. Edward moved his family +into a garret, and walked the streets day and night, seeking work. +He begged for it, but in was really not to be had. He was astonished +to see how soon his face became unwelcome; he was astonished +and hurt to see how quickly the ancient interest which people had +had in him faded out and disappeared. Still, he MUST get work; +so he swallowed his chagrin, and toiled on in search of it. +At last he got a job of carrying bricks up a ladder in a hod, +and was a grateful man in consequence; but after that NOBODY knew +him or cared anything about him. He was not able to keep up +his dues in the various moral organizations to which he belonged, +and had to endure the sharp pain of seeing himself brought under +the disgrace of suspension. + +But the faster Edward died out of public knowledge and interest, +the faster George rose in them. He was found lying, ragged and drunk, +in the gutter one morning. A member of the Ladies' Temperance Refuge +fished him out, took him in hand, got up a subscription for him, +kept him sober a whole week, then got a situation for him. +An account of it was published. + +General attention was thus drawn to the poor fellow, and a great +many people came forward and helped him toward reform with their +countenance and encouragement. He did not drink a drop for two months, +and meantime was the pet of the good. Then he fell--in the gutter; +and there was general sorrow and lamentation. But the noble +sisterhood rescued him again. They cleaned him up, they fed him, +they listened to the mournful music of his repentances, they got +him his situation again. An account of this, also, was published, +and the town was drowned in happy tears over the re-restoration +of the poor beast and struggling victim of the fatal bowl. +A grand temperance revival was got up, and after some rousing +speeches had been made the chairman said, impressively: "We are +not about to call for signers; and I think there is a spectacle +in store for you which not many in this house will be able to view +with dry eyes." There was an eloquent pause, and then George Benton, +escorted by a red-sashed detachment of the Ladies of the Refuge, +stepped forward upon the platform and signed the pledge. The air +was rent with applause, and everybody cried for joy. Everybody wrung +the hand of the new convert when the meeting was over; his salary +was enlarged next day; he was the talk of the town, and its hero. +An account of it was published. + +George Benton fell, regularly, every three months, but was faithfully +rescued and wrought with, every time, and good situations were +found for him. Finally, he was taken around the country lecturing, +as a reformed drunkard, and he had great houses and did an immense +amount of good. + +He was so popular at home, and so trusted--during his sober intervals-- +that he was enabled to use the name of a principal citizen, and get +a large sum of money at the bank. A mighty pressure was brought +to bear to save him from the consequences of his forgery, and it +was partially successful--he was "sent up" for only two years. +When, at the end of a year, the tireless efforts of the benevolent +were crowned with success, and he emerged from the penitentiary +with a pardon in his pocket, the Prisoner's Friend Society met him +at the door with a situation and a comfortable salary, and all +the other benevolent people came forward and gave him advice, +encouragement and help. Edward Mills had once applied to the Prisoner's +Friend Society for a situation, when in dire need, but the question, +"Have you been a prisoner?" made brief work of his case. + +While all these things were going on, Edward Mills had been +quietly making head against adversity. He was still poor, but was +in receipt of a steady and sufficient salary, as the respected +and trusted cashier of a bank. George Benton never came near him, +and was never heard to inquire about him. George got to indulging +in long absences from the town; there were ill reports about him, +but nothing definite. + +One winter's night some masked burglars forced their way into the bank, +and found Edward Mills there alone. They commanded him to reveal +the "combination," so that they could get into the safe. He refused. +They threatened his life. He said his employers trusted him, +and he could not be traitor to that trust. He could die, if he must, +but while he lived he would be faithful; he would not yield up +the "combination." The burglars killed him. + +The detectives hunted down the criminals; the chief one proved +to be George Benton. A wide sympathy was felt for the widow and +orphans of the dead man, and all the newspapers in the land begged +that all the banks in the land would testify their appreciation +of the fidelity and heroism of the murdered cashier by coming +forward with a generous contribution of money in aid of his family, +now bereft of support. The result was a mass of solid cash amounting +to upward of five hundred dollars--an average of nearly three-eights +of a cent for each bank in the Union. The cashier's own bank +testified its gratitude by endeavoring to show (but humiliatingly +failed in it) that the peerless servant's accounts were not square, +and that he himself had knocked his brains out with a bludgeon +to escape detection and punishment. + +George Benton was arraigned for trial. Then everybody seemed to +forget the widow and orphans in their solicitude for poor George. +Everything that money and influence could do was done to save him, +but it all failed; he was sentenced to death. Straightway the +Governor was besieged with petitions for commutation or pardon; +they were brought by tearful young girls; by sorrowful old maids; +by deputations of pathetic widows; by shoals of impressive orphans. +But no, the Governor--for once--would not yield. + +Now George Benton experienced religion. The glad news flew all around. +From that time forth his cell was always full of girls and women and +fresh flowers; all the day long there was prayer, and hymn-singing, +and thanksgiving, and homilies, and tears, with never an interruption, +except an occasional five-minute intermission for refreshments. + +This sort of thing continued up to the very gallows, and George +Benton went proudly home, in the black cap, before a wailing +audience of the sweetest and best that the region could produce. +His grave had fresh flowers on it every day, for a while, +and the head-stone bore these words, under a hand pointing aloft: +"He has fought the good fight." + +The brave cashier's head-stone has this inscription: "Be pure, +honest, sober, industrious, considerate, and you will never--" + +Nobody knows who gave the order to leave it that way, but it was +so given. + +The cashier's family are in stringent circumstances, now, it is said; +but no matter; a lot of appreciative people, who were not willing +that an act so brave and true as his should go unrewarded, +have collected forty-two thousand dollars--and built a Memorial +Church with it. + + +*** + + + +THE FIVE BOONS OF LIFE + + + +Chapter I + + +In the morning of life came a good fairy with her basket, and said: + +"Here are gifts. Take one, leave the others. And be wary, +chose wisely; oh, choose wisely! for only one of them is valuable." + +The gifts were five: Fame, Love, Riches, Pleasure, Death. +The youth said, eagerly: + +"There is no need to consider"; and he chose Pleasure. + +He went out into the world and sought out the pleasures that youth +delights in. But each in its turn was short-lived and disappointing, +vain and empty; and each, departing, mocked him. In the end he said: +"These years I have wasted. If I could but choose again, I would +choose wisely. + + + +Chapter II + + +The fairy appeared, and said: + +"Four of the gifts remain. Choose once more; and oh, remember-- +time is flying, and only one of them is precious." + +The man considered long, then chose Love; and did not mark the tears +that rose in the fairy's eyes. + +After many, many years the man sat by a coffin, in an empty home. +And he communed with himself, saying: "One by one they have gone +away and left me; and now she lies here, the dearest and the last. +Desolation after desolation has swept over me; for each hour +of happiness the treacherous trader, Love, as sold me I have paid +a thousand hours of grief. Out of my heart of hearts I curse him." + + + +Chapter III + + +"Choose again." It was the fairy speaking. + +"The years have taught you wisdom--surely it must be so. +Three gifts remain. Only one of them has any worth--remember it, +and choose warily." + +The man reflected long, then chose Fame; and the fairy, sighing, +went her way. + +Years went by and she came again, and stood behind the man where he +sat solitary in the fading day, thinking. And she knew his thought: + +"My name filled the world, and its praises were on every tongue, +and it seemed well with me for a little while. How little a while +it was! Then came envy; then detraction; then calumny; then hate; +then persecution. Then derision, which is the beginning of the end. +And last of all came pity, which is the funeral of fame. Oh, +the bitterness and misery of renown! target for mud in its prime, +for contempt and compassion in its decay." + + + +Chapter IV + + +"Chose yet again." It was the fairy's voice. + +"Two gifts remain. And do not despair. In the beginning there +was but one that was precious, and it is still here." + +"Wealth--which is power! How blind I was!" said the man. +"Now, at last, life will be worth the living. I will spend, +squander, dazzle. These mockers and despisers will crawl in the +dirt before me, and I will feed my hungry heart with their envy. +I will have all luxuries, all joys, all enchantments of the spirit, +all contentments of the body that man holds dear. I will buy, +buy, buy! deference, respect, esteem, worship--every pinchbeck +grace of life the market of a trivial world can furnish forth. +I have lost much time, and chosen badly heretofore, but let that pass; +I was ignorant then, and could but take for best what seemed so." + +Three short years went by, and a day came when the man sat shivering +in a mean garret; and he was gaunt and wan and hollow-eyed, +and clothed in rags; and he was gnawing a dry crust and mumbling: + +"Curse all the world's gifts, for mockeries and gilded lies! +And miscalled, every one. They are not gifts, but merely lendings. +Pleasure, Love, Fame, Riches: they are but temporary disguises for +lasting realities--Pain, Grief, Shame, Poverty. The fairy said true; +in all her store there was but one gift which was precious, +only one that was not valueless. How poor and cheap and mean I +know those others now to be, compared with that inestimable one, +that dear and sweet and kindly one, that steeps in dreamless and +enduring sleep the pains that persecute the body, and the shames +and griefs that eat the mind and heart. Bring it! I am weary, +I would rest." + + + +Chapter V + + +The fairy came, bringing again four of the gifts, but Death was wanting. +She said: + +"I gave it to a mother's pet, a little child. It was ignorant, +but trusted me, asking me to choose for it. You did not ask me +to choose." + +"Oh, miserable me! What is left for me?" + +"What not even you have deserved: the wanton insult of Old Age." + + +*** + + + +THE FIRST WRITING-MACHINES + + +From My Unpublished Autobiography + + + +Some days ago a correspondent sent in an old typewritten sheet, +faded by age, containing the following letter over the signature +of Mark Twain: + + +"Hartford, March 10, 1875. + + +"Please do not use my name in any way. Please do not even divulge +that fact that I own a machine. I have entirely stopped using +the typewriter, for the reason that I never could write a letter +with it to anybody without receiving a request by return mail that I +would not only describe the machine, but state what progress I had +made in the use of it, etc., etc. I don't like to write letters, +and so I don't want people to know I own this curiosity-breeding +little joker." + + +A note was sent to Mr. Clemens asking him if the letter was genuine +and whether he really had a typewriter as long ago as that. +Mr. Clemens replied that his best answer is the following chapter +from his unpublished autobiography: + + + +1904. VILLA QUARTO, FLORENCE, JANUARY. + + +Dictating autobiography to a typewriter is a new experience for me, +but it goes very well, and is going to save time and "language"-- +the kind of language that soothes vexation. + +I have dictated to a typewriter before--but not autobiography. +Between that experience and the present one there lies a mighty gap-- +more than thirty years! It is sort of lifetime. In that wide interval +much has happened--to the type-machine as well as to the rest of us. +At the beginning of that interval a type-machine was a curiosity. +The person who owned one was a curiosity, too. But now it is the +other way about: the person who DOESN'T own one is a curiosity. +I saw a type-machine for the first time in--what year? I suppose it +was 1873--because Nasby was with me at the time, and it was in Boston. +We must have been lecturing, or we could not have been in Boston, +I take it. I quitted the platform that season. + +But never mind about that, it is no matter. Nasby and I saw +the machine through a window, and went in to look at it. +The salesman explained it to us, showed us samples of its work, +and said it could do fifty-seven words a minute--a statement +which we frankly confessed that we did not believe. So he put +his type-girl to work, and we timed her by the watch. She actually +did the fifty-seven in sixty seconds. We were partly convinced, +but said it probably couldn't happen again. But it did. +We timed the girl over and over again--with the same result always: +she won out. She did her work on narrow slips of paper, and we +pocketed them as fast as she turned them out, to show as curiosities. +The price of the machine was one hundred and twenty-five dollars. +I bought one, and we went away very much excited. + +At the hotel we got out our slips and were a little disappointed +to find that they contained the same words. The girl had economized +time and labor by using a formula which she knew by heart. +However, we argued--safely enough--that the FIRST type-girl must +naturally take rank with the first billiard-player: neither of them +could be expected to get out of the game any more than a third or a +half of what was in it. If the machine survived--IF it survived-- +experts would come to the front, by and by, who would double the girl's +output without a doubt. They would do one hundred words a minute-- +my talking speed on the platform. That score has long ago been beaten. + +At home I played with the toy, repeated and repeating and repeated "The +Boy stood on the Burning Deck," until I could turn that boy's adventure +out at the rate of twelve words a minute; then I resumed the pen, +for business, and only worked the machine to astonish inquiring visitors. +They carried off many reams of the boy and his burning deck. + +By and by I hired a young woman, and did my first dictating (letters, +merely), and my last until now. The machine did not do both capitals +and lower case (as now), but only capitals. Gothic capitals they were, +and sufficiently ugly. I remember the first letter I dictated. +it was to Edward Bok, who was a boy then. I was not acquainted +with him at that time. His present enterprising spirit is not new-- +he had it in that early day. He was accumulating autographs, and was +not content with mere signatures, he wanted a whole autograph LETTER. +I furnished it--in type-written capitals, SIGNATURE AND ALL. +It was long; it was a sermon; it contained advice; also reproaches. +I said writing was my TRADE, my bread-and-butter; I said it was +not fair to ask a man to give away samples of his trade; would he +ask the blacksmith for a horseshoe? would he ask the doctor for +a corpse? + +Now I come to an important matter--as I regard it. In the year +'74 the young woman copied a considerable part of a book of mine +ON THE MACHINE. In a previous chapter of this Autobiography I +have claimed that I was the first person in the world that ever had +a telephone in the house for practical purposes; I will now claim-- +until dispossess--that I was the first person in the world to APPLY +THE TYPE-MACHINE TO LITERATURE. That book must have been THE +ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER. I wrote the first half of it in '72, +the rest of it in '74. My machinist type-copied a book for me +in '74, so I concluded it was that one. + +That early machine was full of caprices, full of defects--devilish ones. +It had as many immoralities as the machine of today has virtues. +After a year or two I found that it was degrading my character, +so I thought I would give it to Howells. He was reluctant, for he +was suspicious of novelties and unfriendly toward them, and he remains +so to this day. But I persuaded him. He had great confidence in me, +and I got him to believe things about the machine that I did not +believe myself. He took it home to Boston, and my morals began +to improve, but his have never recovered. + +He kept it six months, and then returned it to me. I gave it away +twice after that, but it wouldn't stay; it came back. Then I +gave it to our coachman, Patrick McAleer, who was very grateful, +because he did not know the animal, and thought I was trying to +make him wiser and better. As soon as he got wiser and better he +traded it to a heretic for a side-saddle which he could not use, +and there my knowledge of its history ends. + + +*** + + + +ITALIAN WITHOUT A MASTER + + + +It is almost a fortnight now that I am domiciled in a medieval +villa in the country, a mile or two from Florence. I cannot speak +the language; I am too old not to learn how, also too busy when I +am busy, and too indolent when I am not; wherefore some will +imagine that I am having a dull time of it. But it is not so. +The "help" are all natives; they talk Italian to me, I answer +in English; I do not understand them, they do not understand me, +consequently no harm is done, and everybody is satisfied. In order +to be just and fair, I throw in an Italian word when I have one, +and this has a good influence. I get the word out of the morning paper. +I have to use it while it is fresh, for I find that Italian words +do not keep in this climate. They fade toward night, and next +morning they are gone. But it is no matter; I get a new one out +of the paper before breakfast, and thrill the domestics with it +while it lasts. I have no dictionary, and I do not want one; +I can select words by the sound, or by orthographic aspect. +Many of them have French or German or English look, and these are +the ones I enslave for the day's service. That is, as a rule. +Not always. If I find a learnable phrase that has an imposing look +and warbles musically along I do not care to know the meaning of it; +I pay it out to the first applicant, knowing that if I pronounce it +carefully HE will understand it, and that's enough. + +Yesterday's word was AVANTI. It sounds Shakespearian, and probably +means Avaunt and quit my sight. Today I have a whole phrase: +SONO DISPIACENTISSIMO. I do not know what it means, but it seems +to fit in everywhere and give satisfaction. Although as a rule +my words and phrases are good for one day and train only, I have +several that stay by me all the time, for some unknown reason, +and these come very handy when I get into a long conversation and need +things to fire up with in monotonous stretches. One of the best ones +is DOV' `E IL GATTO. It nearly always produces a pleasant surprise, +therefore I save it up for places where I want to express applause +or admiration. The fourth word has a French sound, and I think +the phrase means "that takes the cake." + +During my first week in the deep and dreamy stillness of this woodsy +and flowery place I was without news of the outside world, and was +well content without it. It has been four weeks since I had seen +a newspaper, and this lack seemed to give life a new charm and grace, +and to saturate it with a feeling verging upon actual delight. +Then came a change that was to be expected: the appetite for news +began to rise again, after this invigorating rest. I had to feed it, +but I was not willing to let it make me its helpless slave again; +I determined to put it on a diet, and a strict and limited one. +So I examined an Italian paper, with the idea of feeding it on that, +and on that exclusively. On that exclusively, and without help of +a dictionary. In this way I should surely be well protected against +overloading and indigestion. + +A glance at the telegraphic page filled me with encouragement. +There were no scare-heads. That was good--supremely good. But there +were headings--one-liners and two-liners--and that was good too; +for without these, one must do as one does with a German paper--pay our +precious time in finding out what an article is about, only to discover, +in many cases, that there is nothing in it of interest to you. +The headline is a valuable thing. + +Necessarily we are all fond of murders, scandals, swindles, +robberies, explosions, collisions, and all such things, when we +knew the people, and when they are neighbors and friends, but when +they are strangers we do not get any great pleasure out of them, +as a rule. Now the trouble with an American paper is that it has +no discrimination; it rakes the whole earth for blood and garbage, +and the result is that you are daily overfed and suffer a surfeit. +By habit you stow this muck every day, but you come by and by to +take no vital interest in it--indeed, you almost get tired of it. +As a rule, forty-nine-fiftieths of it concerns strangers only-- +people away off yonder, a thousand miles, two thousand miles, +ten thousand miles from where you are. Why, when you come to think +of it, who cares what becomes of those people? I would not give +the assassination of one personal friend for a whole massacre +of those others. And, to my mind, one relative or neighbor mixed +up in a scandal is more interesting than a whole Sodom and Gomorrah +of outlanders gone rotten. Give me the home product every time. + +Very well. I saw at a glance that the Florentine paper would +suit me: five out of six of its scandals and tragedies were local; +they were adventures of one's very neighbors, one might almost say +one's friends. In the matter of world news there was not too much, +but just about enough. I subscribed. I have had no occasion +to regret it. Every morning I get all the news I need for the day; +sometimes from the headlines, sometimes from the text. I have never +had to call for a dictionary yet. I read the paper with ease. +Often I do not quite understand, often some of the details escape me, +but no matter, I get the idea. I will cut out a passage or two, +then you see how limpid the language is: + + +Il ritorno dei Beati d'Italia + +Elargizione del Re all' Ospedale italiano + + +The first line means that the Italian sovereigns are coming back-- +they have been to England. The second line seems to mean that they +enlarged the King at the Italian hospital. With a banquet, I suppose. +An English banquet has that effect. Further: + + +Il ritorno dei Sovrani + +a Roma + + +ROMA, 24, ore 22,50.--I Sovrani e le Principessine Reali si attendono +a Roma domani alle ore 15,51. + + +Return of the sovereigns to Rome, you see. Date of the telegram, +Rome, November 24, ten minutes before twenty-three o'clock. The +telegram seems to say, "The Sovereigns and the Royal Children expect +themselves at Rome tomorrow at fifty-one minutes after fifteen o'clock." + +I do not know about Italian time, but I judge it begins at midnight +and runs through the twenty-four hours without breaking bulk. +In the following ad, the theaters open at half-past twenty. +If these are not matinees, 20.30 must mean 8.30 P.M., by my reckoning. + + +Spettacolli del di 25 + +TEATRO DELLA PERGOLA--(Ore 20,30)--Opera. BOH`EME. TEATRO +ALFIERI.--Compagnia drammatica Drago--(Ore 20,30)--LA LEGGE. +ALHAMBRA--(Ore 20,30)--Spettacolo variato. SALA EDISON-- +Grandiosoo spettacolo Cinematografico: QUO VADIS?--Inaugurazione della +Chiesa Russa--In coda al Direttissimo--Vedute di Firenze con +gran movimeno--America: Transporto tronchi giganteschi--I ladri +in casa del Diavolo--Scene comiche. CINEMATOGRAFO--Via Brunelleschi +n. 4.--Programma straordinario, DON CHISCIOTTE--Prezzi populari. + + +The whole of that is intelligible to me--and sane and rational, too-- +except the remark about the Inauguration of a Russian Chinese. +That one oversizes my hand. Give me five cards. + +This is a four-page paper; and as it is set in long primer leaded +and has a page of advertisements, there is no room for the crimes, +disasters, and general sweepings of the outside world--thanks be! +Today I find only a single importation of the off-color sort: + + +Una Principessa + +che fugge con un cocchiere + + +PARIGI, 24.--Il MATIN ha da Berlino che la principessa +Schovenbare-Waldenbure scomparve il 9 novembre. Sarebbe partita +col suo cocchiere. + +La Principassa ha 27 anni. + + +Twenty-seven years old, and scomparve--scampered--on the 9th November. +You see by the added detail that she departed with her coachman. +I hope Sarebbe has not made a mistake, but I am afraid the chances +are that she has. SONO DISPIACENTISSIMO. + +There are several fires: also a couple of accidents. This is +one of them: + + +Grave disgrazia sul Ponte Vecchio + + +Stammattina, circe le 7,30, mentre Giuseppe Sciatti, di anni 55, +di Casellina e Torri, passava dal Ponte Vecchio, stando seduto sopra +un barroccio carico di verdura, perse l' equilibrio e cadde al suolo, +rimanendo con la gamba destra sotto una ruota del veicolo. + +Lo Sciatti fu subito raccolto da alcuni cittadini, che, per mezzo +della pubblica vettura n. 365, lo transporto a San Giovanni di Dio. + +Ivi il medico di guardia gli riscontro la frattura della gamba +destra e alcune lievi escoriazioni giudicandolo guaribile in 50 +giorni salvo complicazioni. + + +What it seems to say is this: "Serious Disgrace on the Old +Old Bridge. This morning about 7.30, Mr. Joseph Sciatti, aged 55, +of Casellina and Torri, while standing up in a sitting posture +on top of a carico barrow of vedure (foliage? hay? vegetables?), +lost his equilibrium and fell on himself, arriving with his left +leg under one of the wheels of the vehicle. + +"Said Sciatti was suddenly harvested (gathered in?) by several citizens, +who by means of public cab No. 365 transported to St. John of God." + +Paragraph No. 3 is a little obscure, but I think it says that +the medico set the broken left leg--right enough, since there +was nothing the matter with the other one--and that several +are encouraged to hope that fifty days well fetch him around +in quite giudicandolo-guaribile way, if no complications intervene. + +I am sure I hope so myself. + +There is a great and peculiar charm about reading news-scraps in a +language which you are not acquainted with--the charm that always goes +with the mysterious and the uncertain. You can never be absolutely +sure of the meaning of anything you read in such circumstances; +you are chasing an alert and gamy riddle all the time, and the +baffling turns and dodges of the prey make the life of the hunt. +A dictionary would spoil it. Sometimes a single word of doubtful +purport will cast a veil of dreamy and golden uncertainty over a +whole paragraph of cold and practical certainties, and leave steeped +in a haunting and adorable mystery an incident which had been vulgar +and commonplace but for that benefaction. Would you be wise to draw +a dictionary on that gracious word? would you be properly grateful? + +After a couple of days' rest I now come back to my subject and seek +a case in point. I find it without trouble, in the morning paper; +a cablegram from Chicago and Indiana by way of Paris. All the words +save one are guessable by a person ignorant of Italian: + + +Revolverate in teatro + + +PARIGI, 27.--La PATRIE ha da Chicago: + +Il guardiano del teatro dell'opera di Walace (Indiana), avendo voluto +espellare uno spettatore che continuava a fumare malgrado il diviety, +questo spalleggiato dai suoi amici tir`o diversi colpi di rivoltella. +Il guardiano ripose. Nacque una scarica generale. Grande panico +tra gli spettatori. Nessun ferito. + + +TRANSLATION.--"Revolveration in Theater. PARIS, 27TH. LA PATRIE +has from Chicago: The cop of the theater of the opera of Wallace, +Indiana, had willed to expel a spectator which continued to smoke +in spite of the prohibition, who, spalleggiato by his friends, +tir'o (Fr. TIR'E, Anglice PULLED) manifold revolver-shots; +great panic among the spectators. Nobody hurt." + +It is bettable that that harmless cataclysm in the theater of the opera +of Wallace, Indiana, excited not a person in Europe but me, and so +came near to not being worth cabling to Florence by way of France. +But it does excite me. It excites me because I cannot make out, +for sure, what it was that moved the spectator to resist the officer. +I was gliding along smoothly and without obstruction or accident, +until I came to that word "spalleggiato," then the bottom fell out. +You notice what a rich gloom, what a somber and pervading mystery, +that word sheds all over the whole Wallachian tragedy. That is the charm +of the thing, that is the delight of it. This is where you begin, +this is where you revel. You can guess and guess, and have all +the fun you like; you need not be afraid there will be an end to it; +none is possible, for no amount of guessing will ever furnish you +a meaning for that word that you can be sure is the right one. +All the other words give you hints, by their form, their sound, +or their spelling--this one doesn't, this one throws out no hints, +this one keeps its secret. If there is even the slightest slight +shadow of a hint anywhere, it lies in the very meagerly suggestive +fact that "spalleggiato" carries our word "egg" in its stomach. +Well, make the most out of it, and then where are you at? +You conjecture that the spectator which was smoking in spite +of the prohibition and become reprohibited by the guardians, +was "egged on" by his friends, and that was owing to that evil +influence that he initiated the revolveration in theater that has +galloped under the sea and come crashing through the European +press without exciting anybody but me. But are you sure, +are you dead sure, that that was the way of it? No. Then the +uncertainty remains, the mystery abides, and with it the charm. +Guess again. + +If I had a phrase-book of a really satisfactory sort I would +study it, and not give all my free time to undictionarial readings, +but there is no such work on the market. The existing phrase-books +are inadequate. They are well enough as far as they go, but when +you fall down and skin your leg they don't tell you what to say. + + +*** + + + +ITALIAN WITH GRAMMAR + + + +I found that a person of large intelligence could read this beautiful +language with considerable facility without a dictionary, but I presently +found that to such a parson a grammar could be of use at times. +It is because, if he does not know the WERE'S and the WAS'S and the +MAYBE'S and the HAS-BEENS'S apart, confusions and uncertainties +can arise. He can get the idea that a thing is going to happen next +week when the truth is that it has already happened week before last. +Even more previously, sometimes. Examination and inquiry showed +me that the adjectives and such things were frank and fair-minded +and straightforward, and did not shuffle; it was the Verb that mixed +the hands, it was the Verb that lacked stability, it was the Verb that +had no permanent opinion about anything, it was the Verb that was always +dodging the issue and putting out the light and making all the trouble. + +Further examination, further inquiry, further reflection, +confirmed this judgment, and established beyond peradventure the +fact that the Verb was the storm-center. This discovery made plain +the right and wise course to pursue in order to acquire certainty +and exactness in understanding the statements which the newspaper +was daily endeavoring to convey to me: I must catch a Verb and +tame it. I must find out its ways, I must spot its eccentricities, +I must penetrate its disguises, I must intelligently foresee and +forecast at least the commoner of the dodges it was likely to try +upon a stranger in given circumstances, I must get in on its main +shifts and head them off, I must learn its game and play the limit. + +I had noticed, in other foreign languages, that verbs are bred +in families, and that the members of each family have certain features +or resemblances that are common to that family and distinguish it +from the other families--the other kin, the cousins and what not. +I had noticed that this family-mark is not usually the nose or the hair, +so to speak, but the tail--the Termination--and that these tails +are quite definitely differentiated; insomuch that an expert can +tell a Pluperfect from a Subjunctive by its tail as easily and as +certainly as a cowboy can tell a cow from a horse by the like process, +the result of observation and culture. I should explain that I +am speaking of legitimate verbs, those verbs which in the slang +of the grammar are called Regular. There are other--I am not meaning +to conceal this; others called Irregulars, born out of wedlock, +of unknown and uninteresting parentage, and naturally destitute +of family resemblances, as regards to all features, tails included. +But of these pathetic outcasts I have nothing to say. I do not +approve of them, I do not encourage them; I am prudishly delicate +and sensitive, and I do not allow them to be used in my presence. + +But, as I have said, I decided to catch one of the others and break +it into harness. One is enough. Once familiar with its assortment +of tails, you are immune; after that, no regular verb can conceal +its specialty from you and make you think it is working the past +or the future or the conditional or the unconditional when it is +engaged in some other line of business--its tail will give it away. +I found out all these things by myself, without a teacher. + +I selected the verb AMARE, TO LOVE. Not for any personal reason, +for I am indifferent about verbs; I care no more for one verb than +for another, and have little or no respect for any of them; but in +foreign languages you always begin with that one. Why, I don't know. +It is merely habit, I suppose; the first teacher chose it, +Adam was satisfied, and there hasn't been a successor since with +originality enough to start a fresh one. For they ARE a pretty +limited lot, you will admit that? Originality is not in their line; +they can't think up anything new, anything to freshen up the old +moss-grown dullness of the language lesson and put life and "go" +into it, and charm and grace and picturesqueness. + +I knew I must look after those details myself; therefore I thought +them out and wrote them down, and set for the FACCHINO and explained +them to him, and said he must arrange a proper plant, and get together +a good stock company among the CONTADINI, and design the costumes, +and distribute the parts; and drill the troupe, and be ready in three +days to begin on this Verb in a shipshape and workman-like manner. +I told him to put each grand division of it under a foreman, +and each subdivision under a subordinate of the rank of sergeant +or corporal or something like that, and to have a different uniform +for each squad, so that I could tell a Pluperfect from a Compound +Future without looking at the book; the whole battery to be under +his own special and particular command, with the rank of Brigadier, +and I to pay the freight. + +I then inquired into the character and possibilities of the selected verb, +and was much disturbed to find that it was over my size, it being +chambered for fifty-seven rounds--fifty-seven ways of saying I LOVE +without reloading; and yet none of them likely to convince a girl +that was laying for a title, or a title that was laying for rocks. + +It seemed to me that with my inexperience it would be foolish to go +into action with this mitrailleuse, so I ordered it to the rear +and told the facchino to provide something a little more primitive +to start with, something less elaborate, some gentle old-fashioned +flint-lock, smooth-bore, double-barreled thing, calculated to cripple +at two hundred yards and kill at forty--an arrangement suitable for a +beginner who could be satisfied with moderate results on the offstart +and did not wish to take the whole territory in the first campaign. + +But in vain. He was not able to mend the matter, all the verbs being +of the same build, all Gatlings, all of the same caliber and delivery, +fifty-seven to the volley, and fatal at a mile and a half. +But he said the auxiliary verb AVERE, TO HAVE, was a tidy thing, +and easy to handle in a seaway, and less likely to miss stays in +going about than some of the others; so, upon his recommendation I +chose that one, and told him to take it along and scrape its bottom +and break out its spinnaker and get it ready for business. + +I will explain that a facchino is a general-utility domestic. +Mine was a horse-doctor in his better days, and a very good one. + + +At the end of three days the facchino-doctor-brigadier was ready. +I was also ready, with a stenographer. We were in a room called +the Rope-Walk. This is a formidably long room, as is indicated +by its facetious name, and is a good place for reviews. At 9:30 +the F.-D.-B. took his place near me and gave the word of command; +the drums began to rumble and thunder, the head of the forces appeared +at an upper door, and the "march-past" was on. Down they filed, +a blaze of variegated color, each squad gaudy in a uniform of its own +and bearing a banner inscribed with its verbal rank and quality: +first the Present Tense in Mediterranean blue and old gold, then the +Past Definite in scarlet and black, then the Imperfect in green +and yellow, then the Indicative Future in the stars and stripes, +then the Old Red Sandstone Subjunctive in purple and silver-- +and so on and so on, fifty-seven privates and twenty commissioned +and non-commissioned officers; certainly one of the most fiery and +dazzling and eloquent sights I have ever beheld. I could not keep back +the tears. Presently: + +"Halt!" commanded the Brigadier. + +"Front--face!" + +"Right dress!" + +"Stand at ease!" + +"One--two--three. In unison--RECITE!" + +It was fine. In one noble volume of sound of all the fifty-seven +Haves in the Italian language burst forth in an exalting +and splendid confusion. Then came commands: + +"About--face! Eyes--front! Helm alee--hard aport! Forward--march!" +and the drums let go again. + +When the last Termination had disappeared, the commander said +the instruction drill would now begin, and asked for suggestions. +I said: + +"They say I HAVE, THOU HAST, HE HAS, and so on, but they don't say WHAT. +It will be better, and more definite, if they have something +to have; just an object, you know, a something--anything will do; +anything that will give the listener a sort of personal as well +as grammatical interest in their joys and complaints, you see." + +He said: + +"It is a good point. Would a dog do?" + +I said I did not know, but we could try a dog and see. So he sent +out an aide-de-camp to give the order to add the dog. + + +The six privates of the Present Tense now filed in, in charge +of Sergeant AVERE (TO HAVE), and displaying their banner. +They formed in line of battle, and recited, one at a time, thus: + +"IO HO UN CANE, I have a dog." + +"TU HAI UN CANE, thou hast a dog." + +"EGLI HA UN CANE, he has a dog." + +"NOI ABBIAMO UN CANE, we have a dog." + +"VOI AVETE UN CANE, you have a dog." + +"EGLINO HANNO UN CANE, they have a dog." + +No comment followed. They returned to camp, and I reflected a while. +The commander said: + +"I fear you are disappointed." + +"Yes," I said; "they are too monotonous, too singsong, to dead-and-alive; +they have no expression, no elocution. It isn't natural; it could +never happen in real life. A person who had just acquired a dog +is either blame' glad or blame' sorry. He is not on the fence. +I never saw a case. What the nation do you suppose is the matter +with these people?" + +He thought maybe the trouble was with the dog. He said: + +"These are CONTADINI, you know, and they have a prejudice against dogs-- +that is, against marimane. Marimana dogs stand guard over people's +vines and olives, you know, and are very savage, and thereby a grief +and an inconvenience to persons who want other people's things +at night. In my judgment they have taken this dog for a marimana, +and have soured on him." + +I saw that the dog was a mistake, and not functionable: +we must try something else; something, if possible, that could +evoke sentiment, interest, feeling. + +"What is cat, in Italian?" I asked. + +"Gatto." + +"Is it a gentleman cat, or a lady?" + +"Gentleman cat." + +"How are these people as regards that animal?" + +"We-ll, they--they--" + +"You hesitate: that is enough. How are they about chickens?" + +He tilted his eyes toward heaven in mute ecstasy. I understood. + +"What is chicken, in Italian?" I asked. + +"Pollo, PODERE." (Podere is Italian for master. It is a title +of courtesy, and conveys reverence and admiration.) "Pollo is one +chicken by itself; when there are enough present to constitute +a plural, it is POLLI." + +"Very well, polli will do. Which squad is detailed for duty next?" + +"The Past Definite." + +"Send out and order it to the front--with chickens. And let them +understand that we don't want any more of this cold indifference." + +He gave the order to an aide, adding, with a haunting tenderness +in his tone and a watering mouth in his aspect: + +"Convey to them the conception that these are unprotected chickens." +He turned to me, saluting with his hand to his temple, and explained, +"It will inflame their interest in the poultry, sire." + +A few minutes elapsed. Then the squad marched in and formed up, +their faces glowing with enthusiasm, and the file-leader shouted: + +"EBBI POLLI, I had chickens!" + +"Good!" I said. "Go on, the next." + +"AVEST POLLI, thou hadst chickens!" + +"Fine! Next!" + +"EBBE POLLI, he had chickens!" + +"Moltimoltissimo! Go on, the next!" + +"AVEMMO POLLI, we had chickens!" + +"Basta-basta aspettatto avanti--last man--CHARGE!" + +"EBBERO POLLI, they had chickens!" + +Then they formed in echelon, by columns of fours, refused the left, +and retired in great style on the double-quick. I was enchanted, +and said: + +"Now, doctor, that is something LIKE! Chickens are the ticket, +there is no doubt about it. What is the next squad?" + +"The Imperfect." + +"How does it go?" + +"IO AVENA, I had, TU AVEVI, thou hadst, EGLI AVENA, he had, +NOI AV--" + +Wait--we've just HAD the hads. what are you giving me?" + +"But this is another breed." + +"What do we want of another breed? Isn't one breed enough? +HAD is HAD, and your tricking it out in a fresh way of spelling +isn't going to make it any hadder than it was before; now you know +that yourself." + +"But there is a distinction--they are not just the same Hads." + +"How do you make it out?" + +"Well, you use that first Had when you are referring to something +that happened at a named and sharp and perfectly definite moment; +you use the other when the thing happened at a vaguely defined time +and in a more prolonged and indefinitely continuous way." + +'Why, doctor, it is pure nonsense; you know it yourself. Look here: +If I have had a had, or have wanted to have had a had, or was in a +position right then and there to have had a had that hadn't had any chance +to go out hadding on account of this foolish discrimination which lets +one Had go hadding in any kind of indefinite grammatical weather but +restricts the other one to definite and datable meteoric convulsions, +and keeps it pining around and watching the barometer all the time, +and liable to get sick through confinement and lack of exercise, +and all that sort of thing, why--why, the inhumanity of it is enough, +let alone the wanton superfluity and uselessness of any such a loafing +consumptive hospital-bird of a Had taking up room and cumbering +the place for nothing. These finical refinements revolt me; +it is not right, it is not honorable; it is constructive nepotism +to keep in office a Had that is so delicate it can't come out when +the wind's in the nor'west--I won't have this dude on the payroll. +Cancel his exequator; and look here--" + +"But you miss the point. It is like this. You see--" + +"Never mind explaining, I don't care anything about it. Six Hads +is enough for me; anybody that needs twelve, let him subscribe; +I don't want any stock in a Had Trust. Knock out the Prolonged +and Indefinitely Continuous; four-fifths of it is water, anyway." + +"But I beg you, podere! It is often quite indispensable in cases where--" + +"Pipe the next squad to the assault!" + +But it was not to be; for at that moment the dull boom of the noon gun +floated up out of far-off Florence, followed by the usual softened +jangle of church-bells, Florentine and suburban, that bursts out in +murmurous response; by labor-union law the COLAZIONE [1] must stop; +stop promptly, stop instantly, stop definitely, like the chosen +and best of the breed of Hads. + +- - - + +1. Colazione is Italian for a collection, a meeting, a seance, +a sitting.--M.T. + + +*** + + + +A BURLESQUE BIOGRAPHY + + + +Two or three persons having at different times intimated that if I +would write an autobiography they would read it when they got leisure, +I yield at last to this frenzied public demand and herewith tender +my history. + +Ours is a noble house, and stretches a long way back into antiquity. +The earliest ancestor the Twains have any record of was a friend of +the family by the name of Higgins. This was in the eleventh century, +when our people were living in Aberdeen, county of Cork, England. +Why it is that our long line has ever since borne the maternal +name (except when one of them now and then took a playful +refuge in an alias to avert foolishness), instead of Higgins, +is a mystery which none of us has ever felt much desire to stir. +It is a kind of vague, pretty romance, and we leave it alone. +All the old families do that way. + +Arthour Twain was a man of considerable note--a solicitor on the +highway in William Rufus's time. At about the age of thirty he went +to one of those fine old English places of resort called Newgate, +to see about something, and never returned again. While there he +died suddenly. + +Augustus Twain seems to have made something of a stir about the +year 1160. He was as full of fun as he could be, and used to take his old +saber and sharpen it up, and get in a convenient place on a dark night, +and stick it through people as they went by, to see them jump. +He was a born humorist. But he got to going too far with it; +and the first time he was found stripping one of these parties, +the authorities removed one end of him, and put it up on a nice high +place on Temple Bar, where it could contemplate the people and have +a good time. He never liked any situation so much or stuck to it so long. + +Then for the next two hundred years the family tree shows +a succession of soldiers--noble, high-spirited fellows, +who always went into battle singing, right behind the army, +and always went out a-whooping, right ahead of it. + +This is a scathing rebuke to old dead Froissart's poor witticism +that our family tree never had but one limb to it, and that that +one stuck out at right angles, and bore fruit winter and summer. + +Early in the fifteenth century we have Beau Twain, called "the Scholar." +He wrote a beautiful, beautiful hand. And he could imitate anybody's +hand so closely that it was enough to make a person laugh his head +off to see it. He had infinite sport with his talent. But by and +by he took a contract to break stone for a road, and the roughness +of the work spoiled his hand. Still, he enjoyed life all the time +he was in the stone business, which, with inconsiderable intervals, +was some forty-two years. In fact, he died in harness. During all +those long years he gave such satisfaction that he never was through +with one contract a week till the government gave him another. He was +a perfect pet. And he was always a favorite with his fellow-artists, +and was a conspicuous member of their benevolent secret society, +called the Chain Gang. He always wore his hair short, had a +preference for striped clothes, and died lamented by the government. +He was a sore loss to his country. For he was so regular. + +Some years later we have the illustrious John Morgan Twain. +He came over to this country with Columbus in 1492 as a passenger. +He appears to have been of a crusty, uncomfortable disposition. +He complained of the food all the way over, and was always threatening +to go ashore unless there was a change. He wanted fresh shad. +Hardly a day passed over his head that he did not go idling about +the ship with his nose in the air, sneering about the commander, +and saying he did not believe Columbus knew where he was going +to or had ever been there before. The memorable cry of "Land ho!" +thrilled every heart in the ship but his. He gazed awhile through a +piece of smoked glass at the penciled line lying on the distant water, +and then said: "Land be hanged--it's a raft!" + +When this questionable passenger came on board the ship, be brought +nothing with him but an old newspaper containing a handkerchief +marked "B. G.," one cotton sock marked "L. W. C.," one woolen one +marked "D. F.," and a night-shirt marked "O. M. R." And yet during +the voyage he worried more about his "trunk," and gave himself more +airs about it, than all the rest of the passengers put together. +If the ship was "down by the head," and would not steer, he would +go and move his "trunk" further aft, and then watch the effect. +If the ship was "by the stern," he would suggest to Columbus to detail +some men to "shift that baggage." In storms he had to be gagged, +because his wailings about his "trunk" made it impossible for the +men to hear the orders. The man does not appear to have been +openly charged with any gravely unbecoming thing, but it is noted +in the ship's log as a "curious circumstance" that albeit he brought +his baggage on board the ship in a newspaper, he took it ashore in +four trunks, a queensware crate, and a couple of champagne baskets. +But when he came back insinuating, in an insolent, swaggering way, +that some of this things were missing, and was going to search +the other passengers' baggage, it was too much, and they threw +him overboard. They watched long and wonderingly for him to +come up, but not even a bubble rose on the quietly ebbing tide. +But while every one was most absorbed in gazing over the side, +and the interest was momentarily increasing, it was observed with +consternation that the vessel was adrift and the anchor-cable hanging +limp from the bow. Then in the ship's dimmed and ancient log we +find this quaint note: + +"In time it was discouvered yt ye troblesome passenger hadde gone +downe and got ye anchor, and toke ye same and solde it to ye dam +sauvages from ye interior, saying yt he hadde founde it, ye sonne +of a ghun!" + +Yet this ancestor had good and noble instincts, and it is with +pride that we call to mind the fact that he was the first white +person who ever interested himself in the work of elevating +and civilizing our Indians. He built a commodious jail and put +up a gallows, and to his dying day he claimed with satisfaction +that he had had a more restraining and elevating influence on +the Indians than any other reformer that ever labored among them. +At this point the chronicle becomes less frank and chatty, +and closes abruptly by saying that the old voyager went to see +his gallows perform on the first white man ever hanged in America, +and while there received injuries which terminated in his death. + +The great-grandson of the "Reformer" flourished in sixteen hundred +and something, and was known in our annals as "the old Admiral," +though in history he had other titles. He was long in command of +fleets of swift vessels, well armed and manned, and did great service +in hurrying up merchantmen. Vessels which he followed and kept +his eagle eye on, always made good fair time across the ocean. +But if a ship still loitered in spite of all he could do, +his indignation would grow till he could contain himself no longer-- +and then he would take that ship home where he lived and keep it +there carefully, expecting the owners to come for it, but they never did. +And he would try to get the idleness and sloth out of the sailors +of that ship by compelling them to take invigorating exercise and +a bath. He called it "walking a plank." All the pupils liked it. +At any rate, they never found any fault with it after trying it. +When the owners were late coming for their ships, the Admiral always +burned them, so that the insurance money should not be lost. +At last this fine old tar was cut down in the fullness of his years +and honors. And to her dying day, his poor heart-broken widow believed +that if he had been cut down fifteen minutes sooner he might have +been resuscitated. + +Charles Henry Twain lived during the latter part of the seventeenth +century, and was a zealous and distinguished missionary. +He converted sixteen thousand South Sea islanders, and taught them +that a dog-tooth necklace and a pair of spectacles was not enough +clothing to come to divine service in. His poor flock loved +him very, very dearly; and when his funeral was over, they got up +in a body (and came out of the restaurant) with tears in their eyes, +and saying, one to another, that he was a good tender missionary, +and they wished they had some more of him. + +Pah-go-to-wah-wah-pukketekeewis (Mighty-Hunter-with-a-Hog-Eye-Twain) +adorned the middle of the eighteenth century, and aided General +Braddock with all his heart to resist the oppressor Washington. +It was this ancestor who fired seventeen times at our Washington +from behind a tree. So far the beautiful romantic narrative +in the moral story-books is correct; but when that narrative goes +on to say that at the seventeenth round the awe-stricken savage +said solemnly that that man was being reserved by the Great Spirit +for some mighty mission, and he dared not lift his sacrilegious rifle +against him again, the narrative seriously impairs the integrity +of history. What he did say was: + +"It ain't no (hic) no use. 'At man's so drunk he can't stan' +still long enough for a man to hit him. I (hic) I can't 'ford +to fool away any more am'nition on him." + +That was why he stopped at the seventeenth round, and it was a good, +plain, matter-of-fact reason, too, and one that easily commends itself +to us by the eloquent, persuasive flavor of probability there is about it. + +I also enjoyed the story-book narrative, but I felt a marring misgiving +that every Indian at Braddock's Defeat who fired at a soldier +a couple of times (two easily grows to seventeen in a century), +and missed him, jumped to the conclusion that the Great Spirit +was reserving that soldier for some grand mission; and so I somehow +feared that the only reason why Washington's case is remembered +and the others forgotten is, that in his the prophecy came true, +and in that of the others it didn't. There are not books enough +on earth to contain the record of the prophecies Indians and other +unauthorized parties have made; but one may carry in his overcoat +pockets the record of all the prophecies that have been fulfilled. + +I will remark here, in passing, that certain ancestors of mine are +so thoroughly well-known in history by their aliases, that I have +not felt it to be worth while to dwell upon them, or even mention +them in the order of their birth. Among these may be mentioned +Richard Brinsley Twain, alias Guy Fawkes; John Wentworth Twain, +alias Sixteen-String Jack; William Hogarth Twain, alias Jack Sheppard; +Ananias Twain, alias Baron Munchausen; John George Twain, +alias Captain Kydd; and then there are George Francis Twain, +Tom Pepper, Nebuchadnezzar, and Baalam's Ass--they all belong +to our family, but to a branch of it somewhat distinctly removed +from the honorable direct line--in fact, a collateral branch, +whose members chiefly differ from the ancient stock in that, in order +to acquire the notoriety we have always yearned and hungered for, +they have got into a low way of going to jail instead of getting hanged. + +It is not well, when writing an autobiography, to follow your ancestry +down too close to your own time--it is safest to speak only vaguely +of your great-grandfather, and then skip from there to yourself, +which I now do. + +I was born without teeth--and there Richard III. had the advantage +of me; but I was born without a humpback, likewise, and there I +had the advantage of him. My parents were neither very poor nor +conspicuously honest. + +But now a thought occurs to me. My own history would really seem +so tame contrasted with that of my ancestors, that it is simply wisdom +to leave it unwritten until I am hanged. If some other biographies I +have read had stopped with the ancestry until a like event occurred, +it would have been a felicitous thing for the reading public. +How does it strike you? + + +*** + + + +HOW TO TELL A STORY + +The Humorous Story an American Development.--Its Difference + +from Comic and Witty Stories + + + +I do not claim that I can tell a story as it ought to be told. +I only claim to know how a story ought to be told, for I have been +almost daily in the company of the most expert story-tellers for +many years. + +There are several kinds of stories, but only one difficult kind-- +the humorous. I will talk mainly about that one. The humorous story +is American, the comic story is English, the witty story is French. +The humorous story depends for its effect upon the MANNER of the telling; +the comic story and the witty story upon the MATTER. + +The humorous story may be spun out to great length, and may wander +around as much as it pleases, and arrive nowhere in particular; +but the comic and witty stories must be brief and end with a point. +The humorous story bubbles gently along, the others burst. + +The humorous story is strictly a work of art--high and delicate art-- +and only an artist can tell it; but no art is necessary in telling +the comic and the witty story; anybody can do it. The art of telling +a humorous story--understand, I mean by word of mouth, not print-- +was created in America, and has remained at home. + +The humorous story is told gravely; the teller does his best +to conceal the fact that he even dimly suspects that there is +anything funny about it; but the teller of the comic story tells you +beforehand that it is one of the funniest things he has ever heard, +then tells it with eager delight, and is the first person to laugh +when he gets through. And sometimes, if he has had good success, +he is so glad and happy that he will repeat the "nub" of it +and glance around from face to face, collecting applause, +and then repeat it again. It is a pathetic thing to see. + +Very often, of course, the rambling and disjointed humorous story +finishes with a nub, point, snapper, or whatever you like to call it. +Then the listener must be alert, for in many cases the teller will +divert attention from that nub by dropping it in a carefully casual +and indifferent way, with the pretense that he does not know it +is a nub. + +Artemus Ward used that trick a good deal; then when the belated audience +presently caught the joke he would look up with innocent surprise, +as if wondering what they had found to laugh at. Dan Setchell +used it before him, Nye and Riley and others use it today. + +But the teller of the comic story does not slur the nub; +he shouts it at you--every time. And when he prints it, +in England, France, Germany, and Italy, he italicizes it, +puts some whopping exclamation-points after it, and sometimes +explains it in a parenthesis. All of which is very depressing, +and makes one want to renounce joking and lead a better life. + +Let me set down an instance of the comic method, using an anecdote +which has been popular all over the world for twelve or fifteen +hundred years. The teller tells it in this way: + + +THE WOUNDED SOLDIER + + +In the course of a certain battle a soldier whose leg had been shot off +appealed to another soldier who was hurrying by to carry him to the rear, +informing him at the same time of the loss which he had sustained; +whereupon the generous son of Mars, shouldering the unfortunate, +proceeded to carry out his desire. The bullets and cannon-balls +were flying in all directions, and presently one of the latter +took the wounded man's head off--without, however, his deliverer +being aware of it. In no long time he was hailed by an officer, +who said: + +"Where are you going with that carcass?" + +"To the rear, sir--he's lost his leg!" + +"His leg, forsooth?" responded the astonished officer; "you mean +his head, you booby." + +Whereupon the soldier dispossessed himself of his burden, and stood +looking down upon it in great perplexity. At length he said: + +"It is true, sir, just as you have said." Then after a pause he added, +"BUT HE TOLD ME IT WAS HIS LEG!!!!!" + + +Here the narrator bursts into explosion after +explosion of thunderous horse-laughter, repeating that +nub from time to time through his gasping and shriekings and suffocatings. + +It takes only a minute and a half to tell that in its comic-story form; +and isn't worth the telling, after all. Put into the humorous-story +form it takes ten minutes, and is about the funniest thing I have +ever listened to--as James Whitcomb Riley tells it. + +He tells it in the character of a dull-witted old farmer who has +just heard it for the first time, thinks it is unspeakably funny, +and is trying to repeat it to a neighbor. But he can't remember it; +so he gets all mixed up and wanders helplessly round and round, +putting in tedious details that don't belong in the tale and only +retard it; taking them out conscientiously and putting in others +that are just as useless; making minor mistakes now and then +and stopping to correct them and explain how he came to make them; +remembering things which he forgot to put in in their proper place +and going back to put them in there; stopping his narrative a good +while in order to try to recall the name of the soldier that was hurt, +and finally remembering that the soldier's name was not mentioned, +and remarking placidly that the name is of no real importance, anyway-- +better, of course, if one knew it, but not essential, after all-- +and so on, and so on, and so on. + +The teller is innocent and happy and pleased with himself, +and has to stop every little while to hold himself in and keep +from laughing outright; and does hold in, but his body quakes +in a jelly-like way with interior chuckles; and at the end of the +ten minutes the audience have laughed until they are exhausted, +and the tears are running down their faces. + +The simplicity and innocence and sincerity and unconsciousness +of the old farmer are perfectly simulated, and the result +is a performance which is thoroughly charming and delicious. +This is art--and fine and beautiful, and only a master can compass it; +but a machine could tell the other story. + +To string incongruities and absurdities together in a wandering +and sometimes purposeless way, and seem innocently unaware that they +are absurdities, is the basis of the American art, if my position +is correct. Another feature is the slurring of the point. A third +is the dropping of a studied remark apparently without knowing it, +as if one where thinking aloud. The fourth and last is the pause. + +Artemus Ward dealt in numbers three and four a good deal. He would +begin to tell with great animation something which he seemed to +think was wonderful; then lose confidence, and after an apparently +absent-minded pause add an incongruous remark in a soliloquizing way; +and that was the remark intended to explode the mine--and it did. + +For instance, he would say eagerly, excitedly, "I once knew a man +in New Zealand who hadn't a tooth in his head"--here his animation +would die out; a silent, reflective pause would follow, then he +would say dreamily, and as if to himself, "and yet that man could +beat a drum better than any man I ever saw." + +The pause is an exceedingly important feature in any kind of story, +and a frequently recurring feature, too. It is a dainty thing, +and delicate, and also uncertain and treacherous; for it must +be exactly the right length--no more and no less--or it fails +of its purpose and makes trouble. If the pause is too short the +impressive point is passed, and the audience have had time to divine +that a surprise is intended--and then you can't surprise them, +of course. + +On the platform I used to tell a negro ghost story that had a pause +in front of the snapper on the end, and that pause was the most important +thing in the whole story. If I got it the right length precisely, +I could spring the finishing ejaculation with effect enough to make +some impressible girl deliver a startled little yelp and jump out +of her seat--and that was what I was after. This story was called +"The Golden Arm," and was told in this fashion. You can practice +with it yourself--and mind you look out for the pause and get it right. + + +THE GOLDEN ARM + + +Once 'pon a time dey wuz a momsus mean man, en he live 'way out in de +prairie all 'lone by hisself, 'cep'n he had a wife. En bimeby she died, +en he tuck en toted her way out dah in de prairie en buried her. +Well, she had a golden arm--all solid gold, fum de shoulder down. +He wuz pow'ful mean--pow'ful; en dat night he couldn't sleep, +caze he want dat golden arm so bad. + +When it come midnight he couldn't stan' it no mo'; so he git up, +he did, en tuck his lantern en shoved out thoo de storm en dug her +up en got de golden arm; en he bent his head down 'gin de 'win, en +plowed en plowed en plowed thoo de snow. Den all on a sudden he +stop (make a considerable pause here, and look startled, and take +a listening attitude) en say: "My LAN', what's dat?" + +En he listen--en listen--en de win' say (set your teeth together +and imitate the wailing and wheezing singsong of the wind), +"Bzzz-z-zzz"--en den, way back yonder whah de grave is, he hear +a VOICE!--he hear a voice all mix' up in de win'--can't hardly +tell 'em 'part--"Bzzz--zzz--W-h-o--g-o-t--m-y--g-o-l-d-e-n ARM?" +(You must begin to shiver violently now.) + +En he begin to shiver en shake, en say, "Oh, my! OH, my lan'!" en de win' +blow de lantern out, en de snow en sleet blow in his face en mos' +choke him, en he start a-plowin' knee-deep toward home mos' dead, +he so sk'yerd--en pooty soon he hear de voice agin, en (pause) it 'us +comin AFTER him! "Bzzz--zzz--zzz W-h-o--g-o-t--m-y--g-o-l-d-e-n--ARM?" + +When he git to de pasture he hear it agin--closter now, +en A-COMIN'!--a-comin' back dah in de dark en de storm--(repeat +the wind and the voice). When he git to de house he rush upstairs +en jump in de bed en kiver up, head and years, en lay da shiverin' +en shakin'--en den way out dah he hear it AGIN!--en a-COMIN'! En +bimeby he hear (pause--awed, listening attitude)--pat--pat--pat HIT'S +A-COMIN' UPSTAIRS! Den he hear de latch, en he KNOW it's in de room! + +Den pooty soon he know it's a-STANNIN' BY DE BED! (Pause.) Den-- +he know it's a-BENDIN' DOWN OVER HIM--en he cain't skasely git +his breath! Den--den--he seem to feel someth'n' C-O-L-D, right down +'most agin his head! (Pause.) + +Den de voice say, RIGHT AT HIS YEAR--"W-h-o--g-o-t--m-y g-o-l-d-e-n ARM?" +(You must wail it out very plaintively and accusingly; then you stare +steadily and impressively into the face of the farthest-gone auditor-- +a girl, preferably--and let that awe-inspiring pause begin to build +itself in the deep hush. When it has reached exactly the right length, +jump suddenly at that girl and yell, "YOU'VE got it!" + +If you've got the PAUSE right, she'll fetch a dear little yelp and +spring right out of her shoes. But you MUST get the pause right; +and you will find it the most troublesome and aggravating and +uncertain thing you ever undertook. + + +*** + + + +GENERAL WASHINGTON'S NEGRO BODY-SERVANT + + +A Biographical Sketch + + + +The stirring part of this celebrated colored man's life properly began +with his death--that is to say, the notable features of his biography +began with the first time he died. He had been little heard of up +to that time, but since then we have never ceased to hear of him; +we have never ceased to hear of him at stated, unfailing intervals. +His was a most remarkable career, and I have thought that its history +would make a valuable addition to our biographical literature. +Therefore, I have carefully collated the materials for such a work, +from authentic sources, and here present them to the public. I have +rigidly excluded from these pages everything of a doubtful character, +with the object in view of introducing my work into the schools +for the instruction of the youth of my country. + +The name of the famous body-servant of General Washington was George. +After serving his illustrious master faithfully for half a century, +and enjoying throughout his long term his high regard and confidence, +it became his sorrowful duty at last to lay that beloved master +to rest in his peaceful grave by the Potomac. Ten years afterward-- +in 1809--full of years and honors, he died himself, mourned by all +who knew him. The Boston GAZETTE of that date thus refers to +the event: + + +George, the favorite body-servant of the lamented Washington, +died in Richmond, Va., last Tuesday, at the ripe age of 95 years. +His intellect was unimpaired, and his memory tenacious, up to +within a few minutes of his decease. He was present at the second +installation of Washington as President, and also at his funeral, +and distinctly remembered all the prominent incidents connected with +those noted events. + + +From this period we hear no more of the favorite body-servant of +General Washington until May, 1825, at which time he died again. +A Philadelphia paper thus speaks of the sad occurrence: + + +At Macon, Ga., last week, a colored man named George, who was the +favorite body-servant of General Washington, died at the advanced +age of 95 years. Up to within a few hours of his dissolution he +was in full possession of all his faculties, and could distinctly +recollect the second installation of Washington, his death +and burial, the surrender of Cornwallis, the battle of Trenton, +the griefs and hardships of Valley Forge, etc. Deceased was +followed to the grave by the entire population of Macon. + + +On the Fourth of July, 1830, and also of 1834 and 1836, the subject +of this sketch was exhibited in great state upon the rostrum +of the orator of the day, and in November of 1840 he died again. +The St. Louis REPUBLICAN of the 25th of that month spoke as follows: + + +"ANOTHER RELIC OF THE REVOLUTION GONE. + + +"George, once the favorite body-servant of General Washington, +died yesterday at the house of Mr. John Leavenworth in this city, +at the venerable age of 95 years. He was in the full possession +of his faculties up to the hour of his death, and distinctly +recollected the first and second installations and death of +President Washington, the surrender of Cornwallis, the battles +of Trenton and Monmouth, the sufferings of the patriot army at +Valley Forge, the proclamation of the Declaration of Independence, +the speech of Patrick Henry in the Virginia House of Delegates, +and many other old-time reminiscences of stirring interest. +Few white men die lamented as was this aged negro. The funeral +was very largely attended." + + +During the next ten or eleven years the subject of this sketch +appeared at intervals at Fourth-of-July celebrations in various +parts of the country, and was exhibited upon the rostrum with +flattering success. But in the fall of 1855 he died again. +The California papers thus speak of the event: + + +ANOTHER OLD HERO GONE + + +Died, at Dutch Flat, on the 7th of March, George (once the confidential +body-servant of General Washington), at the great age of 95 years. +His memory, which did not fail him till the last, was a wonderful +storehouse of interesting reminiscences. He could distinctly recollect +the first and second installations and death of President Washington, +the surrender of Cornwallis, the battles of Trenton and Monmouth, +and Bunker Hill, the proclamation of the Declaration of Independence, +and Braddock's defeat. George was greatly respected in Dutch Flat, +and it is estimated that there were 10,000 people present at +his funeral. + + +The last time the subject of this sketch died was in June, 1864; and until +we learn the contrary, it is just to presume that he died permanently +this time. The Michigan papers thus refer to the sorrowful event: + + +ANOTHER CHERISHED REMNANT OF THE REVOLUTION GONE + + +George, a colored man, and once the favorite body-servant of +George Washington, died in Detroit last week, at the patriarchal age +of 95 years. To the moment of his death his intellect was unclouded, +and he could distinctly remember the first and second installations +and death of Washington, the surrender of Cornwallis, the battles +of Trenton and Monmouth, and Bunker Hill, the proclamation of the +Declaration of Independence, Braddock's defeat, the throwing over +of the tea in Boston harbor, and the landing of the Pilgrims. +He died greatly respected, and was followed to the grave by a vast +concourse of people. + + +The faithful old servant is gone! We shall never see him more until +he turns up again. He has closed his long and splendid career +of dissolution, for the present, and sleeps peacefully, as only they sleep +who have earned their rest. He was in all respects a remarkable man. +He held his age better than any celebrity that has figured in history; +and the longer he lived the stronger and longer his memory grew. +If he lives to die again, he will distinctly recollect the discovery +of America. + +The above r'esum'e of his biography I believe to be substantially +correct, although it is possible that he may have died once or twice +in obscure places where the event failed of newspaper notoriety. +One fault I find in all the notices of his death I have quoted, +and this ought to be correct. In them he uniformly and impartially +died at the age of 95. This could not have been. He might have +done that once, or maybe twice, but he could not have continued +it indefinitely. Allowing that when he first died, he died at +the age of 95, he was 151 years old when he died last, in 1864. +But his age did not keep pace with his recollections. When he died +the last time, he distinctly remembered the landing of the Pilgrims, +which took place in 1620. He must have been about twenty years +old when he witnessed that event, wherefore it is safe to assert +that the body-servant of General Washington was in the neighborhood +of two hundred and sixty or seventy years old when he departed this +life finally. + +Having waited a proper length of time, to see if the subject of his +sketch had gone from us reliably and irrevocably, I now publish his +biography with confidence, and respectfully offer it to a mourning nation. + +P.S.--I see by the papers that this imfamous old fraud has just +died again, in Arkansas. This makes six times that he is known +to have died, and always in a new place. The death of Washington's +body-servant has ceased to be a novelty; it's charm is gone; +the people are tired of it; let it cease. This well-meaning +but misguided negro has not put six different communities to the +expense of burying him in state, and has swindled tens of thousands +of people into following him to the grave under the delusion that +a select and peculiar distinction was being conferred upon them. +Let him stay buried for good now; and let that newspaper suffer +the severest censure that shall ever, in all the future time, +publish to the world that General Washington's favorite colored +body-servant has died again. + + +*** + + + +WIT INSPIRATIONS OF THE "TWO-YEAR-OLDS" + + + +All infants appear to have an impertinent and disagreeable fashion +nowadays of saying "smart" things on most occasions that offer, +and especially on occasions when they ought not to be saying anything +at all. Judging by the average published specimens of smart sayings, +the rising generation of children are little better than idiots. +And the parents must surely be but little better than the children, +for in most cases they are the publishers of the sunbursts of infantile +imbecility which dazzle us from the pages of our periodicals. +I may seem to speak with some heat, not to say a suspicion of +personal spite; and I do admit that it nettles me to hear about so +many gifted infants in these days, and remember that I seldom said +anything smart when I was a child. I tried it once or twice, but it +was not popular. The family were not expecting brilliant remarks +from me, and so they snubbed me sometimes and spanked me the rest. +But it makes my flesh creep and my blood run cold to think what might +have happened to me if I had dared to utter some of the smart things +of this generation's "four-year-olds" where my father could hear me. +To have simply skinned me alive and considered his duty at an end +would have seemed to him criminal leniency toward one so sinning. +He was a stern, unsmiling man, and hated all forms of precocity. +If I had said some of the things I have referred to, and said them in +his hearing, he would have destroyed me. He would, indeed. He would, +provided the opportunity remained with him. But it would not, +for I would have had judgment enough to take some strychnine first +and say my smart thing afterward. The fair record of my life has +been tarnished by just one pun. My father overheard that, and he +hunted me over four or five townships seeking to take my life. +If I had been full-grown, of course he would have been right; +but, child as I was, I could not know how wicked a thing I +had done. + +I made one of those remarks ordinarily called "smart things" +before that, but it was not a pun. Still, it came near causing a +serious rupture between my father and myself. My father and mother, +my uncle Ephraim and his wife, and one or two others were present, +and the conversation turned on a name for me. I was lying there +trying some India-rubber rings of various patterns, and endeavoring +to make a selection, for I was tired of trying to cut my teeth on +people's fingers, and wanted to get hold of something that would +enable me to hurry the thing through and get something else. +Did you ever notice what a nuisance it was cutting your teeth on +your nurse's finger, or how back-breaking and tiresome it was trying +to cut them on your big toe? And did you never get out of patience +and wish your teeth were in Jerico long before you got them half cut? +To me it seems as if these things happened yesterday. And they did, +to some children. But I digress. I was lying there trying the +India-rubber rings. I remember looking at the clock and noticing +that in an hour and twenty-five minutes I would be two weeks old, +and thinking how little I had done to merit the blessings that were so +unsparingly lavished upon me. My father said: + +"Abraham is a good name. My grandfather was named Abraham." + +My mother said: + +"Abraham is a good name. Very well. Let us have Abraham for one +of his names." + +I said: + +"Abraham suits the subscriber." + +My father frowned, my mother looked pleased; my aunt said: + +"What a little darling it is!" + +My father said: + +"Isaac is a good name, and Jacob is a good name." + +My mother assented, and said: + +"No names are better. Let us add Isaac and Jacob to his names." + +I said: + +"All right. Isaac and Jacob are good enough for yours truly. +Pass me that rattle, if you please. I can't chew India-rubber rings +all day." + +Not a soul made a memorandum of these sayings of mine, for publication. +I saw that, and did it myself, else they would have been utterly lost. +So far from meeting with a generous encouragement like other children +when developing intellectually, I was now furiously scowled upon +by my father; my mother looked grieved and anxious, and even my aunt +had about her an expression of seeming to think that maybe I had +gone too far. I took a vicious bite out of an India-rubber ring, +and covertly broke the rattle over the kitten's head, but said nothing. +Presently my father said: + +"Samuel is a very excellent name." + +I saw that trouble was coming. Nothing could prevent it. I laid +down my rattle; over the side of the cradle I dropped my uncle's +silver watch, the clothes-brush, the toy dog, my tin soldier, +the nutmeg-grater, and other matters which I was accustomed to examine, +and meditate upon and make pleasant noises with, and bang and batter +and break when I needed wholesome entertainment. Then I put on my +little frock and my little bonnet, and took my pygmy shoes in one +hand and my licorice in the other, and climbed out on the floor. +I said to myself, Now, if the worse comes to worst, I am ready. +Then I said aloud, in a firm voice: + +"Father, I cannot, cannot wear the name of Samuel." + +"My son!" + +"Father, I mean it. I cannot." + +"Why?" + +"Father, I have an invincible antipathy to that name." + +"My son, this is unreasonable. Many great and good men have been +named Samuel." + +"Sir, I have yet to hear of the first instance." + +"What! There was Samuel the prophet. Was not he great and good?" + +"Not so very." + +"My son! With His own voice the Lord called him." + +"Yes, sir, and had to call him a couple times before he could come!" + +And then I sallied forth, and that stern old man sallied forth after me. +He overtook me at noon the following day, and when the interview was +over I had acquired the name of Samuel, and a thrashing, and other +useful information; and by means of this compromise my father's +wrath was appeased and a misunderstanding bridged over which might +have become a permanent rupture if I had chosen to be unreasonable. +But just judging by this episode, what would my father have done +to me if I had ever uttered in his hearing one of the flat, +sickly things these "two-years-olds" say in print nowadays? +In my opinion there would have been a case of infanticide in our family. + + +*** + + + +AN ENTERTAINING ARTICLE + + + +I take the following paragraph from an article in the Boston ADVERTISER: + + +AN ENGLISH CRITIC ON MARK TWAIN + + +Perhaps the most successful flights of humor of Mark Twain have been +descriptions of the persons who did not appreciate his humor at all. +We have become familiar with the Californians who were thrilled with +terror by his burlesque of a newspaper reporter's way of telling a story, +and we have heard of the Pennsylvania clergyman who sadly returned +his INNOCENTS ABROAD to the book-agent with the remark that "the +man who could shed tears over the tomb of Adam must be an idiot." +But Mark Twain may now add a much more glorious instance to his string +of trophies. The SATURDAY REVIEW, in its number of October 8th, +reviews his book of travels, which has been republished in England, +and reviews it seriously. We can imagine the delight of the humorist +in reading this tribute to his power; and indeed it is so amusing +in itself that he can hardly do better than reproduce the article +in full in his next monthly Memoranda. + + +(Publishing the above paragraph thus, gives me a sort of authority +for reproducing the SATURDAY REVIEW'S article in full in these pages. +I dearly wanted to do it, for I cannot write anything half so +delicious myself. If I had a cast-iron dog that could read this +English criticism and preserve his austerity, I would drive him +off the door-step.) + + +(From the London "Saturday Review.") + + +REVIEWS OF NEW BOOKS + + +THE INNOCENTS ABROAD. A Book of Travels. By Mark Twain. +London: Hotten, publisher. 1870. + + +Lord Macaulay died too soon. We never felt this so deeply as when we +finished the last chapter of the above-named extravagant work. +Macaulay died too soon--for none but he could mete out complete +and comprehensive justice to the insolence, the impertinence, +the presumption, the mendacity, and, above all, the majestic ignorance +of this author. + +To say that the INNOCENTS ABROAD is a curious book, would be to +use the faintest language--would be to speak of the Matterhorn +as a neat elevation or of Niagara as being "nice" or "pretty." +"Curious" is too tame a word wherewith to describe the imposing insanity +of this work. There is no word that is large enough or long enough. +Let us, therefore, photograph a passing glimpse of book and author, +and trust the rest to the reader. Let the cultivated English student +of human nature picture to himself this Mark Twain as a person capable +of doing the following-described things--and not only doing them, +but with incredible innocence PRINTING THEM calmly and tranquilly +in a book. For instance: + +He states that he entered a hair-dresser's in Paris to get shaved, +and the first "rake" the barber gave him with his razor it LOOSENED +HIS "HIDE" and LIFTED HIM OUT OF THE CHAIR. + +This is unquestionably exaggerated. In Florence he was so annoyed +by beggars that he pretends to have seized and eaten one in a +frantic spirit of revenge. There is, of course, no truth in this. +He gives at full length a theatrical program seventeen or eighteen +hundred years old, which he professes to have found in the ruins +of the Coliseum, among the dirt and mold and rubbish. It is a +sufficient comment upon this statement to remark that even a cast-iron +program would not have lasted so long under such circumstances. +In Greece he plainly betrays both fright and flight upon one occasion, +but with frozen effrontery puts the latter in this falsely tamed form: +"We SIDLED toward the Piraeus." "Sidled," indeed! He does not hesitate +to intimate that at Ephesus, when his mule strayed from the proper course, +he got down, took him under his arm, carried him to the road again, +pointed him right, remounted, and went to sleep contentedly till +it was time to restore the beast to the path once more. He states +that a growing youth among his ship's passengers was in the constant +habit of appeasing his hunger with soap and oakum between meals. +In Palestine he tells of ants that came eleven miles to spend +the summer in the desert and brought their provisions with them; +yet he shows by his description of the country that the feat was +an impossibility. He mentions, as if it were the most commonplace +of matters, that he cut a Moslem in two in broad daylight in Jerusalem, +with Godfrey de Bouillon's sword, and would have shed more blood IF +HE HAD HAD A GRAVEYARD OF HIS OWN. These statements are unworthy +a moment's attention. Mr. Twain or any other foreigner who did +such a thing in Jerusalem would be mobbed, and would infallibly +lose his life. But why go on? Why repeat more of his audacious +and exasperating falsehoods? Let us close fittingly with this one: +he affirms that "in the mosque of St. Sophia at Constantinople +I got my feet so stuck up with a complication of gums, slime, +and general impurity, that I wore out more than two thousand +pair of bootjacks getting my boots off that night, and even then +some Christian hide peeled off with them." It is monstrous. +Such statements are simply lies--there is no other name for them. +Will the reader longer marvel at the brutal ignorance that pervades +the American nation when we tell him that we are informed upon perfectly +good authority that this extravagant compilation of falsehoods, +this exhaustless mine of stupendous lies, this INNOCENTS ABROAD, +has actually been adopted by the schools and colleges of several +of the states as a text-book! + +But if his falsehoods are distressing, his innocence and his ignorance +are enough to make one burn the book and despise the author. In one +place he was so appalled at the sudden spectacle of a murdered man, +unveiled by the moonlight, that he jumped out of the window, +going through sash and all, and then remarks with the most childlike +simplicity that he "was not scared, but was considerably agitated." +It puts us out of patience to note that the simpleton is densely +unconscious that Lucrezia Borgia ever existed off the stage. +He is vulgarly ignorant of all foreign languages, but is frank enough +to criticize, the Italians' use of their own tongue. He says they +spell the name of their great painter "Vinci, but pronounce it Vinchy"-- +and then adds with a na:ivet'e possible only to helpless ignorance, +"foreigners always spell better than they pronounce." In another +place he commits the bald absurdity of putting the phrase "tare +an ouns" into an Italian's mouth. In Rome he unhesitatingly +believes the legend that St. Philip Neri's heart was so inflamed +with divine love that it burst his ribs--believes it wholly +because an author with a learned list of university degrees strung +after his name endorses it--"otherwise," says this gentle idiot, +"I should have felt a curiosity to know what Philip had for dinner." +Our author makes a long, fatiguing journey to the Grotto del Cane +on purpose to test its poisoning powers on a dog--got elaborately +ready for the experiment, and then discovered that he had no dog. +A wiser person would have kept such a thing discreetly to himself, +but with this harmless creature everything comes out. He hurts +his foot in a rut two thousand years old in exhumed Pompeii, +and presently, when staring at one of the cinder-like corpses unearthed +in the next square, conceives the idea that maybe it is the remains +of the ancient Street Commissioner, and straightway his horror softens +down to a sort of chirpy contentment with the condition of things. +In Damascus he visits the well of Ananias, three thousand years old, +and is as surprised and delighted as a child to find that the water +is "as pure and fresh as if the well had been dug yesterday." +In the Holy Land he gags desperately at the hard Arabic and Hebrew +Biblical names, and finally concludes to call them Baldwinsville, +Williamsburgh, and so on, "for convenience of spelling." + +We have thus spoken freely of this man's stupefying simplicity +and innocence, but we cannot deal similarly with his colossal ignorance. +We do not know where to begin. And if we knew where to begin, +we certainly would not know where to leave off. We will give +one specimen, and one only. He did not know, until he got to Rome, +that Michael Angelo was dead! And then, instead of crawling away +and hiding his shameful ignorance somewhere, he proceeds to express +a pious, grateful sort of satisfaction that he is gone and out +of his troubles! + +No, the reader may seek out the author's exhibition of his +uncultivation for himself. The book is absolutely dangerous, +considering the magnitude and variety of its misstatements, +and the convincing confidence with which they are made. +And yet it is a text-book in the schools of America. + +The poor blunderer mouses among the sublime creations of the +Old Masters, trying to acquire the elegant proficiency in +art-knowledge, which he has a groping sort of comprehension is a +proper thing for a traveled man to be able to display. But what is +the manner of his study? And what is the progress he achieves? +To what extent does he familiarize himself with the great pictures +of Italy, and what degree of appreciation does he arrive at? Read: + +"When we see a monk going about with a lion and looking up into heaven, +we know that that is St. Mark. When we see a monk with a book and a pen, +looking tranquilly up to heaven, trying to think of a word, we know +that that is St. Matthew. When we see a monk sitting on a rock, +looking tranquilly up to heaven, with a human skull beside him, +and without other baggage, we know that that is St. Jerome. +Because we know that he always went flying light in the matter +of baggage. When we see other monks looking tranquilly up to heaven, +but having no trade-mark, we always ask who those parties are. +We do this because we humbly wish to learn." + +He then enumerates the thousands and thousand of copies of these +several pictures which he has seen, and adds with accustomed +simplicity that he feels encouraged to believe that when he has seen +"Some More" of each, and had a larger experience, he will eventually +"begin to take an absorbing interest in them"--the vulgar boor. + +That we have shown this to be a remarkable book, we think no one +will deny. That is a pernicious book to place in the hands of the +confiding and uniformed, we think we have also shown. That the book +is a deliberate and wicked creation of a diseased mind, is apparent +upon every page. Having placed our judgment thus upon record, +let us close with what charity we can, by remarking that even in this +volume there is some good to be found; for whenever the author talks +of his own country and lets Europe alone, he never fails to make +himself interesting, and not only interesting but instructive. +No one can read without benefit his occasional chapters and paragraphs, +about life in the gold and silver mines of California and Nevada; +about the Indians of the plains and deserts of the West, +and their cannibalism; about the raising of vegetables in kegs of +gunpowder by the aid of two or three teaspoons of guano; about the +moving of small arms from place to place at night in wheelbarrows +to avoid taxes; and about a sort of cows and mules in the Humboldt +mines, that climb down chimneys and disturb the people at night. +These matters are not only new, but are well worth knowing. +It is a pity the author did not put in more of the same kind. +His book is well written and is exceedingly entertaining, and so it +just barely escaped being quite valuable also. + + +(One month later) + + +Latterly I have received several letters, and see a number of +newspaper paragraphs, all upon a certain subject, and all of about +the same tenor. I here give honest specimens. One is from a New +York paper, one is from a letter from an old friend, and one is +from a letter from a New York publisher who is a stranger to me. +I humbly endeavor to make these bits toothsome with the remark that +the article they are praising (which appeared in the December GALAXY, +and PRETENDED to be a criticism from the London SATURDAY REVIEW +on my INNOCENTS ABROAD) WAS WRITTEN BY MYSELF, EVERY LINE OF IT: + + +The HERALD says the richest thing out is the "serious critique" +in the London SATURDAY REVIEW, on Mark Twain's INNOCENTS ABROAD. +We thought before we read it that it must be "serious," as everybody +said so, and were even ready to shed a few tears; but since perusing it, +we are bound to confess that next to Mark Twain's "Jumping Frog" +it's the finest bit of humor and sarcasm that we've come across in many +a day. + + +(I do not get a compliment like that every day.) + + +I used to think that your writings were pretty good, but after reading +the criticism in THE GALAXY from the LONDON REVIEW, have discovered +what an ass I must have been. If suggestions are in order, mine is, +that you put that article in your next edition of the INNOCENTS, +as an extra chapter, if you are not afraid to put your own humor +in competition with it. It is as rich a thing as I ever read. + + +(Which is strong commendation from a book publisher.) + + +The London Reviewer, my friend, is not the stupid, "serious" creature +he pretends to be, _I_ think; but, on the contrary, has a keep +appreciation and enjoyment of your book. As I read his article in +THE GALAXY, I could imagine him giving vent to many a hearty laugh. +But he is writing for Catholics and Established Church people, +and high-toned, antiquated, conservative gentility, whom it is +a delight to him to help you shock, while he pretends to shake his +head with owlish density. He is a magnificent humorist himself. + + +(Now that is graceful and handsome. I take off my hat to my life-long +friend and comrade, and with my feet together and my fingers spread +over my heart, I say, in the language of Alabama, "You do me proud.") + +I stand guilty of the authorship of the article, but I did not mean +any harm. I saw by an item in the Boston ADVERTISER that a solemn, +serious critique on the English edition of my book had appeared +in the London SATURDAY REVIEW, and the idea of SUCH a literary +breakfast by a stolid, ponderous British ogre of the quill was too +much for a naturally weak virtue, and I went home and burlesqued it-- +reveled in it, I may say. I never saw a copy of the real SATURDAY +REVIEW criticism until after my burlesque was written and mailed +to the printer. But when I did get hold of a copy, I found it +to be vulgar, awkwardly written, ill-natured, and entirely serious +and in earnest. The gentleman who wrote the newspaper paragraph +above quoted had not been misled as to its character. + +If any man doubts my word now, I will kill him. No, I will not +kill him; I will win his money. I will bet him twenty to one, +and let any New York publisher hold the stakes, that the statements I +have above made as to the authorship of the article in question are +entirely true. Perhaps I may get wealthy at this, for I am willing +to take all the bets that offer; and if a man wants larger odds, +I will give him all he requires. But he ought to find out whether +I am betting on what is termed "a sure thing" or not before he +ventures his money, and he can do that by going to a public +library and examining the London SATURDAY REVIEW of October 8th, +which contains the real critique. + +Bless me, some people thought that _I_ was the "sold" person! + + +P.S.--I cannot resist the temptation to toss in this most savory +thing of all--this easy, graceful, philosophical disquisition, +with his happy, chirping confidence. It is from the Cincinnati ENQUIRER: + + +Nothing is more uncertain than the value of a fine cigar. +Nine smokers out of ten would prefer an ordinary domestic article, +three for a quarter, to fifty-cent Partaga, if kept in ignorance +of the cost of the latter. The flavor of the Partaga is too delicate +for palates that have been accustomed to Connecticut seed leaf. +So it is with humor. The finer it is in quality, the more danger +of its not being recognized at all. Even Mark Twain has been taken +in by an English review of his INNOCENTS ABROAD. Mark Twain is by +no means a coarse humorist, but the Englishman's humor is so much +finer than his, that he mistakes it for solid earnest, and "lafts +most consumedly." + + +A man who cannot learn stands in his own light. Hereafter, when I +write an article which I know to be good, but which I may have reason +to fear will not, in some quarters, be considered to amount to much, +coming from an American, I will aver that an Englishman wrote it +and that it is copied from a London journal. And then I will occupy +a back seat and enjoy the cordial applause. + + +(Still later) + + +Mark Twain at last sees that the SATURDAY REVIEW'S criticism of his +INNOCENTS ABROAD was not serious, and he is intensely mortified at the +thought of having been so badly sold. He takes the only course left him, +and in the last GALAXY claims that HE wrote the criticism himself, +and published it in THE GALAXY to sell the public. This is ingenious, +but unfortunately it is not true. If any of our readers will take +the trouble to call at this office we sill show them the original +article in the SATURDAY REVIEW of October 8th, which, on comparison, +will be found to be identical with the one published in THE GALAXY. +The best thing for Mark to do will be to admit that he was sold, +and say no more about it. + + +The above is from the Cincinnati ENQUIRER, and is a falsehood. +Come to the proof. If the ENQUIRER people, through any agent, +will produce at THE GALAXY office a London SATURDAY REVIEW +of October 8th, containing an "article which, on comparison, +will be found to be identical with the one published in THE GALAXY, +I will pay to that agent five hundred dollars cash. Moreover, if at +any specified time I fail to produce at the same place a copy +of the London SATURDAY REVIEW of October 8th, containing a lengthy +criticism upon the INNOCENTS ABROAD, entirely different, in every +paragraph and sentence, from the one I published in THE GALAXY, +I will pay to the ENQUIRER agent another five hundred dollars cash. +I offer Sheldon & Co., publishers, 500 Broadway, New York, +as my "backers." Any one in New York, authorized by the ENQUIRER, +will receive prompt attention. It is an easy and profitable way +for the ENQUIRER people to prove that they have not uttered a pitiful, +deliberate falsehood in the above paragraphs. Will they swallow +that falsehood ignominiously, or will they send an agent to THE +GALAXY office. I think the Cincinnati ENQUIRER must be edited +by children. + + +*** + + + +A LETTER TO THE SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY + + + +Riverdale-on-the-Hudson, OCTOBER 15, 1902. + +THE HON. THE SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY, WASHINGTON, D. C.: + + +Sir,--Prices for the customary kinds of winter fuel having reached +an altitude which puts them out of the reach of literary persons in +straitened circumstances, I desire to place with you the following order: + +Forty-five tons best old dry government bonds, suitable for furnace, +gold 7 per cents., 1864, preferred. + +Twelve tons early greenbacks, range size, suitable for cooking. + +Eight barrels seasoned 25 and 50 cent postal currency, vintage of 1866, +eligible for kindlings. + +Please deliver with all convenient despatch at my house in Riverdale +at lowest rates for spot cash, and send bill to + +Your obliged servant, + +Mark Twain, Who will be very grateful, and will vote right. + + +*** + + + +AMENDED OBITUARIES + +TO THE EDITOR: + + +Sir,--I am approaching seventy; it is in sight; it is only three +years away. Necessarily, I must go soon. It is but matter-of-course +wisdom, then, that I should begin to set my worldly house in +order now, so that it may be done calmly and with thoroughness, +in place of waiting until the last day, when, as we have often seen, +the attempt to set both houses in order at the same time has been +marred by the necessity for haste and by the confusion and waste +of time arising from the inability of the notary and the ecclesiastic +to work together harmoniously, taking turn about and giving each +other friendly assistance--not perhaps in fielding, which could +hardly be expected, but at least in the minor offices of keeping +game and umpiring; by consequence of which conflict of interests +and absence of harmonious action a draw has frequently resulted +where this ill-fortune could not have happened if the houses had been +set in order one at a time and hurry avoided by beginning in season, +and giving to each the amount of time fairly and justly proper to it. + +In setting my earthly house in order I find it of moment that I +should attend in person to one or two matters which men in my +position have long had the habit of leaving wholly to others, +with consequences often most regrettable. I wish to speak of only +one of these matters at this time: Obituaries. Of necessity, +an Obituary is a thing which cannot be so judiciously edited by any hand +as by that of the subject of it. In such a work it is not the Facts +that are of chief importance, but the light which the obituarist +shall throw upon them, the meaning which he shall dress them in, +the conclusions which he shall draw from them, and the judgments +which he shall deliver upon them. The Verdicts, you understand: +that is the danger-line. + +In considering this matter, in view of my approaching change, +it has seemed to me wise to take such measures as may be feasible, +to acquire, by courtesy of the press, access to my standing obituaries, +with the privilege--if this is not asking too much--of editing, +not their Facts, but their Verdicts. This, not for the present profit, +further than as concerns my family, but as a favorable influence +usable on the Other Side, where there are some who are not friendly +to me. + +With this explanation of my motives, I will now ask you of your +courtesy to make an appeal for me to the public press. It is my +desire that such journals and periodicals as have obituaries of me +lying in their pigeonholes, with a view to sudden use some day, +will not wait longer, but will publish them now, and kindly send +me a marked copy. My address is simply New York City--I have no +other that is permanent and not transient. + +I will correct them--not the Facts, but the Verdicts--striking out +such clauses as could have a deleterious influence on the Other Side, +and replacing them with clauses of a more judicious character. +I should, of course, expect to pay double rates for both the omissions +and the substitutions; and I should also expect to pay quadruple +rates for all obituaries which proved to be rightly and wisely worded +in the originals, thus requiring no emendations at all. + +It is my desire to leave these Amended Obituaries neatly bound +behind me as a perennial consolation and entertainment to my family, +and as an heirloom which shall have a mournful but definite +commercial value for my remote posterity. + +I beg, sir, that you will insert this Advertisement (1t-eow, agate, +inside), and send the bill to + +Yours very respectfully. + +Mark Twain. + + +P.S.--For the best Obituary--one suitable for me to read in public, +and calculated to inspire regret--I desire to offer a Prize, +consisting of a Portrait of me done entirely by myself in pen and ink +without previous instructions. The ink warranted to be the kind +used by the very best artists. + + +*** + + + +A MONUMENT TO ADAM + + + +Some one has revealed to the TRIBUNE that I once suggested +to Rev. Thomas K. Beecher, of Elmira, New York, that we get up +a monument to Adam, and that Mr. Beecher favored the project. +There is more to it than that. The matter started as a joke, +but it came somewhat near to materializing. + +It is long ago--thirty years. Mr. Darwin's DESCENT OF MAN has been +in print five or six years, and the storm of indignation raised +by it was still raging in pulpits and periodicals. In tracing +the genesis of the human race back to its sources, Mr. Darwin had +left Adam out altogether. We had monkeys, and "missing links," +and plenty of other kinds of ancestors, but no Adam. Jesting with +Mr. Beecher and other friends in Elmira, I said there seemed to be +a likelihood that the world would discard Adam and accept the monkey, +and that in the course of time Adam's very name would be forgotten +in the earth; therefore this calamity ought to be averted; +a monument would accomplish this, and Elmira ought not to waste +this honorable opportunity to do Adam a favor and herself a credit. + +Then the unexpected happened. Two bankers came forward and took +hold of the matter--not for fun, not for sentiment, but because they +saw in the monument certain commercial advantages for the town. +The project had seemed gently humorous before--it was more than +that now, with this stern business gravity injected into it. +The bankers discussed the monument with me. We met several times. +They proposed an indestructible memorial, to cost twenty-five +thousand dollars. The insane oddity of a monument set up in a village +to preserve a name that would outlast the hills and the rocks without +any such help, would advertise Elmira to the ends of the earth-- +and draw custom. It would be the only monument on the planet +to Adam, and in the matter of interest and impressiveness could +never have a rival until somebody should set up a monument to the +Milky Way. + +People would come from every corner of the globe and stop off +to look at it, no tour of the world would be complete that left out +Adam's monument. Elmira would be a Mecca; there would be pilgrim +ships at pilgrim rates, pilgrim specials on the continent's railways; +libraries would be written about the monument, every tourist would +kodak it, models of it would be for sale everywhere in the earth, +its form would become as familiar as the figure of Napoleon. + +One of the bankers subscribed five thousand dollars, and I think +the other one subscribed half as much, but I do not remember with +certainty now whether that was the figure or not. We got designs made-- +some of them came from Paris. + +In the beginning--as a detail of the project when it was yet a joke-- +I had framed a humble and beseeching and perfervid petition to +Congress begging the government to built the monument, as a testimony +of the Great Republic's gratitude to the Father of the Human Race +and as a token of her loyalty to him in this dark day of humiliation +when his older children were doubting and deserting him. It seemed +to me that this petition ought to be presented, now--it would be +widely and feelingly abused and ridiculed and cursed, and would +advertise our scheme and make our ground-floor stock go off briskly. +So I sent it to General Joseph R. Hawley, who was then in the House, +and he said he would present it. But he did not do it. I think +he explained that when he came to read it he was afraid of it: +it was too serious, to gushy, too sentimental--the House might take it +for earnest. + +We ought to have carried out our monument scheme; we could +have managed it without any great difficulty, and Elmira would +now be the most celebrated town in the universe. + +Very recently I began to build a book in which one of the minor +characters touches incidentally upon a project for a monument to Adam, +and now the TRIBUNE has come upon a trace of the forgotten jest of +thirty years ago. Apparently mental telegraphy is still in business. +It is odd; but the freaks of mental telegraphy are usually odd. + + +*** + + + +A HUMANE WORD FROM SATAN + + + +[The following letter, signed by Satan and purporting to come from him, +we have reason to believe was not written by him, but by Mark Twain.-- +Editor.] + +TO THE EDITOR OF HARPER'S WEEKLY: + + +Dear Sir and Kinsman,--Let us have done with this frivolous talk. +The American Board accepts contributions from me every year: +then why shouldn't it from Mr. Rockefeller? In all the ages, +three-fourths of the support of the great charities has been +conscience-money, as my books will show: then what becomes of +the sting when that term is applied to Mr. Rockefeller's gift? +The American Board's trade is financed mainly from the graveyards. +Bequests, you understand. Conscience-money. Confession of an old +crime and deliberate perpetration of a new one; for deceased's +contribution is a robbery of his heirs. Shall the Board decline +bequests because they stand for one of these offenses every time and +generally for both? + +Allow me to continue. The charge must persistently and resentfully +and remorselessly dwelt upon is that Mr. Rockefeller's contribution is +incurably tainted by perjury--perjury proved against him in the courts. +IT MAKES US SMILE--down in my place! Because there isn't a rich +man in your vast city who doesn't perjure himself every year before +the tax board. They are all caked with perjury, many layers thick. +Iron-clad, so to speak. If there is one that isn't, I desire +to acquire him for my museum, and will pay Dinosaur rates. +Will you say it isn't infraction of the law, but only annual evasion +of it? Comfort yourselves with that nice distinction if you like-- +FOR THE PRESENT. But by and by, when you arrive, I will show you +something interesting: a whole hell-full of evaders! Sometimes a +frank law-breaker turns up elsewhere, but I get those others every time. + +To return to my muttons. I wish you to remember that my rich +perjurers are contributing to the American Board with frequency: +it is money filched from the sworn-off personal tax; therefore it +is the wages of sin; therefore it is my money; therefore it is _I_ +that contribute it; and, finally, it is therefore as I have said: +since the Board daily accepts contributions from me, why should it +decline them from Mr. Rockefeller, who is as good as I am, let the +courts say what they may? + + +Satan. + + +*** + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO "THE NEW GUIDE OF THE CONVERSATION IN + +PORTUGUESE AND ENGLISH" + + +by Pedro Carolino + + + +In this world of uncertainties, there is, at any rate, one thing +which may be pretty confidently set down as a certainty: and that is, +that this celebrated little phrase-book will never die while the +English language lasts. Its delicious unconscious ridiculousness, +and its enchanting na:ivet'e, as are supreme and unapproachable, +in their way, as are Shakespeare's sublimities. Whatsoever is +perfect in its kind, in literature, is imperishable: nobody can +imitate it successfully, nobody can hope to produce its fellow; +it is perfect, it must and will stand alone: its immortality +is secure. + +It is one of the smallest books in the world, but few big books have +received such wide attention, and been so much pondered by the grave +and learned, and so much discussed and written about by the thoughtful, +the thoughtless, the wise, and the foolish. Long notices of it +have appeared, from time to time, in the great English reviews, +and in erudite and authoritative philological periodicals; and it +has been laughed at, danced upon, and tossed in a blanket by nearly +every newspaper and magazine in the English-speaking world. +Every scribbler, almost, has had his little fling at it, at one time +or another; I had mine fifteen years ago. The book gets out of print, +every now and then, and one ceases to hear of it for a season; +but presently the nations and near and far colonies of our tongue +and lineage call for it once more, and once more it issues from some +London or Continental or American press, and runs a new course around +the globe, wafted on its way by the wind of a world's laughter. + +Many persons have believed that this book's miraculous stupidities +were studied and disingenuous; but no one can read the volume +carefully through and keep that opinion. It was written in +serious good faith and deep earnestness, by an honest and upright +idiot who believed he knew something of the English language, +and could impart his knowledge to others. The amplest proof +of this crops out somewhere or other upon each and every page. +There are sentences in the book which could have been manufactured +by a man in his right mind, and with an intelligent and deliberate +purposes to seem innocently ignorant; but there are other sentences, +and paragraphs, which no mere pretended ignorance could ever achieve-- +nor yet even the most genuine and comprehensive ignorance, +when unbacked by inspiration. + +It is not a fraud who speaks in the following paragraph of the +author's Preface, but a good man, an honest man, a man whose conscience +is at rest, a man who believes he has done a high and worthy work for +his nation and his generation, and is well pleased with his performance: + + +We expect then, who the little book (for the care what we wrote him, +and for her typographical correction) that may be worth the +acceptation of the studious persons, and especially of the Youth, +at which we dedicate him particularly. + + +One cannot open this book anywhere and not find richness. +To prove that this is true, I will open it at random and copy +the page I happen to stumble upon. Here is the result: + + + +DIALOGUE 16 + + +For To See the Town + + + +Anothony, go to accompany they gentilsmen, do they see the town. + +We won't to see all that is it remarquable here. + +Come with me, if you please. I shall not folget nothing what can +to merit your attention. Here we are near to cathedral; will you +come in there? + +We will first to see him in oudside, after we shall go in there +for to look the interior. + +Admire this master piece gothic architecture's. + +The chasing of all they figures is astonishing' indeed. + +The cupola and the nave are not less curious to see. + +What is this palace how I see yonder? + +It is the town hall. + +And this tower here at this side? + +It is the Observatory. + +The bridge is very fine, it have ten arches, and is constructed +of free stone. + +The streets are very layed out by line and too paved. + +What is the circuit of this town? + +Two leagues. + +There is it also hospitals here? + +It not fail them. + +What are then the edifices the worthest to have seen? + +It is the arsnehal, the spectacle's hall, the Cusiomhouse, +and the Purse. + +We are going too see the others monuments such that the public +pawnbroker's office, the plants garden's, the money office's, +the library. + +That it shall be for another day; we are tired. + + + +DIALOGUE 17 + + +To Inform One'self of a Person + + + +How is that gentilman who you did speak by and by? + +Is a German. + +I did think him Englishman. + +He is of the Saxony side. + +He speak the french very well. + +Tough he is German, he speak so much well italyan, french, spanish +and english, that among the Italyans, they believe him Italyan, +he speak the frenche as the Frenches himselves. The Spanishesmen +believe him Spanishing, and the Englishes, Englishman. It is +difficult to enjoy well so much several languages. + + +The last remark contains a general truth; but it ceases to be a truth +when one contracts it and apples it to an individual--provided that +that individual is the author of this book, Sehnor Pedro Carolino. +I am sure I should not find it difficult "to enjoy well so much +several languages"--or even a thousand of them--if he did the +translating for me from the originals into his ostensible English. + + +*** + + + +ADVICE TO LITTLE GIRLS + + + +Good little girls ought not to make mouths at their teachers for +every trifling offense. This retaliation should only be resorted +to under peculiarly aggravated circumstances. + +If you have nothing but a rag-doll stuffed with sawdust, while one +of your more fortunate little playmates has a costly China one, +you should treat her with a show of kindness nevertheless. +And you ought not to attempt to make a forcible swap with her unless +your conscience would justify you in it, and you know you are able +to do it. + +You ought never to take your little brother's "chewing-gum" away +from him by main force; it is better to rope him in with the promise +of the first two dollars and a half you find floating down the +river on a grindstone. In the artless simplicity natural to this +time of life, he will regard it as a perfectly fair transaction. +In all ages of the world this eminently plausible fiction has lured +the obtuse infant to financial ruin and disaster. + +If at any time you find it necessary to correct your brother, +do not correct him with mud--never, on any account, throw mud at him, +because it will spoil his clothes. It is better to scald him a little, +for then you obtain desirable results. You secure his immediate +attention to the lessons you are inculcating, and at the same time +your hot water will have a tendency to move impurities from his person, +and possibly the skin, in spots. + +If your mother tells you to do a thing, it is wrong to reply +that you won't. It is better and more becoming to intimate +that you will do as she bids you, and then afterward act quietly +in the matter according to the dictates of your best judgment. + +You should ever bear in mind that it is to your kind parents that you +are indebted for your food, and for the privilege of staying home +from school when you let on that you are sick. Therefore you ought +to respect their little prejudices, and humor their little whims, +and put up with their little foibles until they get to crowding you +too much. + +Good little girls always show marked deference for the aged. +You ought never to "sass" old people unless they "sass" you first. + + +*** + + + +POST-MORTEM POETRY [1] + + + +In Philadelphia they have a custom which it would be pleasant +to see adopted throughout the land. It is that of appending to +published death-notices a little verse or two of comforting poetry. +Any one who is in the habit of reading the daily Philadelphia +LEDGER must frequently be touched by these plaintive tributes +to extinguished worth. In Philadelphia, the departure of a child +is a circumstance which is not more surely followed by a burial +than by the accustomed solacing poesy in the PUBLIC LEDGER. +In that city death loses half its terror because the knowledge +of its presence comes thus disguised in the sweet drapery of verse. +For instance, in a late LEDGER I find the following (I change +the surname): + + +DIED + + +Hawks.--On the 17th inst., Clara, the daughter of Ephraim +and Laura Hawks, aged 21 months and 2 days. + + +That merry shout no more I hear, + +No laughing child I see, + +No little arms are around my neck, + +No feet upon my knee; + + +No kisses drop upon my cheek, + +These lips are sealed to me. + +Dear Lord, how could I give Clara up + +To any but to Thee? + + +A child thus mourned could not die wholly discontented. +From the LEDGER of the same date I make the following extract, +merely changing the surname, as before: + + +Becket.--On Sunday morning, 19th inst., John P., infant son +of George and Julia Becket, aged 1 year, 6 months, and 15 days. + + +That merry shout no more I hear, + +No laughing child I see, + +No little arms are round my neck, + +No feet upon my knee; + + +No kisses drop upon my cheek; + +These lips are sealed to me. + +Dear Lord, how could I give Johnnie up + +To any but to Thee? + + +The similarity of the emotions as produced in the mourners in these +two instances is remarkably evidenced by the singular similarity +of thought which they experienced, and the surprising coincidence +of language used by them to give it expression. + +In the same journal, of the same date, I find the following +(surname suppressed, as before): + + +Wagner.--On the 10th inst., Ferguson G., the son of William +L. and Martha Theresa Wagner, aged 4 weeks and 1 day. + + +That merry shout no more I hear, + +No laughing child I see, + +No little arms are round my neck, + +No feet upon my knee; + + +No kisses drop upon my cheek, + +These lips are sealed to me. + +Dear Lord, how could I give Ferguson up + +To any but to Thee? + + +It is strange what power the reiteration of an essentially poetical +thought has upon one's feelings. When we take up the LEDGER +and read the poetry about little Clara, we feel an unaccountable +depression of the spirits. When we drift further down the column +and read the poetry about little Johnnie, the depression and spirits +acquires and added emphasis, and we experience tangible suffering. +When we saunter along down the column further still and read +the poetry about little Ferguson, the word torture but vaguely +suggests the anguish that rends us. + +In the LEDGER (same copy referred to above) I find the following +(I alter surname, as usual): + + +Welch.--On the 5th inst., Mary C. Welch, wife of William B. Welch, +and daughter of Catharine and George W. Markland, in the 29th year +of her age. + + +A mother dear, a mother kind, + +Has gone and left us all behind. + +Cease to weep, for tears are vain, + +Mother dear is out of pain. + + +Farewell, husband, children dear, + +Serve thy God with filial fear, + +And meet me in the land above, + +Where all is peace, and joy, and love. + + +What could be sweeter than that? No collection of salient facts +(without reduction to tabular form) could be more succinctly stated +than is done in the first stanza by the surviving relatives, +and no more concise and comprehensive program of farewells, +post-mortuary general orders, etc., could be framed in any +form than is done in verse by deceased in the last stanza. +These things insensibly make us wiser and tenderer, and better. +Another extract: + + +Ball.--On the morning of the 15th inst., Mary E., daughter of John +and Sarah F. Ball. + + +'Tis sweet to rest in lively hope + +That when my change shall come + +Angels will hover round my bed, + +To waft my spirit home. + + +The following is apparently the customary form for heads of families: + + +Burns.--On the 20th inst., Michael Burns, aged 40 years. + + +Dearest father, thou hast left us, + +Hear thy loss we deeply feel; + +But 'tis God that has bereft us, + +He can all our sorrows heal. + + +Funeral at 2 o'clock sharp. + + +There is something very simple and pleasant about the following, +which, in Philadelphia, seems to be the usual form for consumptives +of long standing. (It deplores four distinct cases in the single +copy of the LEDGER which lies on the Memoranda editorial table): + + +Bromley.--On the 29th inst., of consumption, Philip Bromley, +in the 50th year of his age. + + +Affliction sore long time he bore, + +Physicians were in vain-- + +Till God at last did hear him mourn, + +And eased him of his pain. + + +That friend whom death from us has torn, + +We did not think so soon to part; + +An anxious care now sinks the thorn + +Still deeper in our bleeding heart. + + +This beautiful creation loses nothing by repetition. On the contrary, +the oftener one sees it in the LEDGER, the more grand and awe-inspiring +it seems. + +With one more extract I will close: + + +Doble.--On the 4th inst., Samuel Pervil Worthington Doble, +aged 4 days. + + +Our little Sammy's gone, + +His tiny spirit's fled; + +Our little boy we loved so dear + +Lies sleeping with the dead. + + +A tear within a father's eye, + +A mother's aching heart, + +Can only tell the agony + +How hard it is to part. + + +Could anything be more plaintive than that, without requiring further +concessions of grammar? Could anything be likely to do more toward +reconciling deceased to circumstances, and making him willing to go? +Perhaps not. The power of song can hardly be estimated. There is +an element about some poetry which is able to make even physical +suffering and death cheerful things to contemplate and consummations +to be desired. This element is present in the mortuary poetry +of Philadelphia degree of development. + +The custom I have been treating of is one that should be adopted +in all the cities of the land. + +It is said that once a man of small consequence died, and the +Rev. T. K. Beecher was asked to preach the funeral sermon-- +a man who abhors the lauding of people, either dead or alive, +except in dignified and simple language, and then only for merits +which they actually possessed or possess, not merits which they +merely ought to have possessed. The friends of the deceased got +up a stately funeral. They must have had misgivings that the +corpse might not be praised strongly enough, for they prepared +some manuscript headings and notes in which nothing was left +unsaid on that subject that a fervid imagination and an unabridged +dictionary could compile, and these they handed to the minister +as he entered the pulpit. They were merely intended as suggestions, +and so the friends were filled with consternation when the minister +stood in the pulpit and proceeded to read off the curious odds +and ends in ghastly detail and in a loud voice! And their +consternation solidified to petrification when he paused at the end, +contemplated the multitude reflectively, and then said, impressively: + +"The man would be a fool who tried to add anything to that. +Let us pray!" + +And with the same strict adhesion to truth it can be said that the +man would be a fool who tried to add anything to the following +transcendent obituary poem. There is something so innocent, +so guileless, so complacent, so unearthly serene and self-satisfied +about this peerless "hog-wash," that the man must be made of stone +who can read it without a dulcet ecstasy creeping along his backbone +and quivering in his marrow. There is no need to say that this +poem is genuine and in earnest, for its proofs are written all +over its face. An ingenious scribbler might imitate it after +a fashion, but Shakespeare himself could not counterfeit it. +It is noticeable that the country editor who published it did +not know that it was a treasure and the most perfect thing of its +kind that the storehouses and museums of literature could show. +He did not dare to say no to the dread poet--for such a poet +must have been something of an apparition--but he just shoveled +it into his paper anywhere that came handy, and felt ashamed, +and put that disgusted "Published by Request" over it, and hoped +that his subscribers would overlook it or not feel an impulse to read it: + + +(Published by Request + + +LINES + +Composed on the death of Samuel and Catharine Belknap's children + + +by M. A. Glaze + + + +Friends and neighbors all draw near, + +And listen to what I have to say; + +And never leave your children dear + +When they are small, and go away. + + +But always think of that sad fate, + +That happened in year of '63; + +Four children with a house did burn, + +Think of their awful agony. + + +Their mother she had gone away, + +And left them there alone to stay; + +The house took fire and down did burn; + +Before their mother did return. + + +Their piteous cry the neighbors heard, + +And then the cry of fire was given; + +But, ah! before they could them reach, + +Their little spirits had flown to heaven. + + +Their father he to war had gone, + +And on the battle-field was slain; + +But little did he think when he went away, + +But what on earth they would meet again. + + +The neighbors often told his wife + +Not to leave his children there, + +Unless she got some one to stay, + +And of the little ones take care. + + +The oldest he was years not six, + +And the youngest only eleven months old, + +But often she had left them there alone, + +As, by the neighbors, I have been told. + + +How can she bear to see the place. + +Where she so oft has left them there, + +Without a single one to look to them, + +Or of the little ones to take good care. + + +Oh, can she look upon the spot, + +Whereunder their little burnt bones lay, + +But what she thinks she hears them say, + +''Twas God had pity, and took us on high.' + + +And there may she kneel down and pray, + +And ask God her to forgive; + +And she may lead a different life + +While she on earth remains to live. + + +Her husband and her children too, + +God has took from pain and woe. + +May she reform and mend her ways, + +That she may also to them go. + + +And when it is God's holy will, + +O, may she be prepared + +To meet her God and friends in peace, + +And leave this world of care. + +- - - + + +1. Written in 1870. + + +*** + + + +THE DANGER OF LYING IN BED + + + +The man in the ticket-office said: + +"Have an accident insurance ticket, also?" + +"No," I said, after studying the matter over a little. "No, I +believe not; I am going to be traveling by rail all day today. +However, tomorrow I don't travel. Give me one for tomorrow." + +The man looked puzzled. He said: + +"But it is for accident insurance, and if you are going to travel +by rail--" + +"If I am going to travel by rail I sha'n't need it. Lying at home +in bed is the thing _I_ am afraid of." + +I had been looking into this matter. Last year I traveled twenty +thousand miles, almost entirely by rail; the year before, I traveled +over twenty-five thousand miles, half by sea and half by rail; +and the year before that I traveled in the neighborhood of ten +thousand miles, exclusively by rail. I suppose if I put in all +the little odd journeys here and there, I may say I have traveled +sixty thousand miles during the three years I have mentioned. +AND NEVER AN ACCIDENT. + +For a good while I said to myself every morning: "Now I +have escaped thus far, and so the chances are just that much +increased that I shall catch it this time. I will be shrewd, +and buy an accident ticket." And to a dead moral certainty I +drew a blank, and went to bed that night without a joint started +or a bone splintered. I got tired of that sort of daily bother, +and fell to buying accident tickets that were good for a month. +I said to myself, "A man CAN'T buy thirty blanks in one bundle." + +But I was mistaken. There was never a prize in the the lot. +I could read of railway accidents every day--the newspaper +atmosphere was foggy with them; but somehow they never came my way. +I found I had spent a good deal of money in the accident business, +and had nothing to show for it. My suspicions were aroused, and I +began to hunt around for somebody that had won in this lottery. +I found plenty of people who had invested, but not an individual +that had ever had an accident or made a cent. I stopped buying +accident tickets and went to ciphering. The result was astounding. +THE PERIL LAY NOT IN TRAVELING, BUT IN STAYING AT HOME. + +I hunted up statistics, and was amazed to find that after all +the glaring newspaper headlines concerning railroad disasters, +less than THREE HUNDRED people had really lost their lives by those +disasters in the preceding twelve months. The Erie road was set +down as the most murderous in the list. It had killed forty-six-- +or twenty-six, I do not exactly remember which, but I know the +number was double that of any other road. But the fact straightway +suggested itself that the Erie was an immensely long road, and did +more business than any other line in the country; so the double +number of killed ceased to be matter for surprise. + +By further figuring, it appeared that between New York and Rochester +the Erie ran eight passenger-trains each way every day--16 altogether; +and carried a daily average of 6,000 persons. That is about a million +in six months--the population of New York City. Well, the Erie kills +from 13 to 23 persons of ITS million in six months; and in the same +time 13,000 of New York's million die in their beds! My flesh crept, +my hair stood on end. "This is appalling!" I said. "The danger +isn't in traveling by rail, but in trusting to those deadly beds. +I will never sleep in a bed again." + +I had figured on considerably less than one-half the length of +the Erie road. It was plain that the entire road must transport +at least eleven or twelve thousand people every day. There are +many short roads running out of Boston that do fully half as much; +a great many such roads. There are many roads scattered about the +Union that do a prodigious passenger business. Therefore it was fair +to presume that an average of 2,500 passengers a day for each road +in the country would be almost correct. There are 846 railway +lines in our country, and 846 times 2,500 are 2,115,000. So the +railways of America move more than two millions of people every day; +six hundred and fifty millions of people a year, without counting +the Sundays. They do that, too--there is no question about it; +though where they get the raw material is clear beyond the jurisdiction +of my arithmetic; for I have hunted the census through and through, +and I find that there are not that many people in the United States, +by a matter of six hundred and ten millions at the very least. +They must use some of the same people over again, likely. + +San Francisco is one-eighth as populous as New York; there are 60 +deaths a week in the former and 500 a week in the latter--if they +have luck. That is 3,120 deaths a year in San Francisco, and eight +times as many in New York--say about 25,000 or 26,000. The health +of the two places is the same. So we will let it stand as a fair +presumption that this will hold good all over the country, and that +consequently 25,000 out of every million of people we have must die +every year. That amounts to one-fortieth of our total population. +One million of us, then, die annually. Out of this million ten +or twelve thousand are stabbed, shot, drowned, hanged, poisoned, +or meet a similarly violent death in some other popular way, +such as perishing by kerosene-lamp and hoop-skirt conflagrations, +getting buried in coal-mines, falling off house-tops, breaking +through church, or lecture-room floors, taking patent medicines, +or committing suicide in other forms. The Erie railroad kills 23 to 46; +the other 845 railroads kill an average of one-third of a man each; +and the rest of that million, amounting in the aggregate to that +appalling figure of 987,631 corpses, die naturally in their beds! + +You will excuse me from taking any more chances on those beds. +The railroads are good enough for me. + +And my advice to all people is, Don't stay at home any more than +you can help; but when you have GOT to stay at home a while, +buy a package of those insurance tickets and sit up nights. +You cannot be too cautious. + +[One can see now why I answered that ticket-agent in the manner +recorded at the top of this sketch.] + +The moral of this composition is, that thoughtless people grumble +more than is fair about railroad management in the United States. +When we consider that every day and night of the year full fourteen +thousand railway-trains of various kinds, freighted with life +and armed with death, go thundering over the land, the marvel is, +NOT that they kill three hundred human beings in a twelvemonth, +but that they do not kill three hundred times three hundred! + + +*** + + + +PORTRAIT OF KING WILLIAM III + + + +I never can look at those periodical portraits in THE GALAXY magazine +without feeling a wild, tempestuous ambition to be an artist. +I have seen thousands and thousands of pictures in my time-- +acres of them here and leagues of them in the galleries of Europe-- +but never any that moved me as these portraits do. + +There is a portrait of Monsignore Capel in the November number, +now COULD anything be sweeter than that? And there was Bismarck's, +in the October number; who can look at that without being purer +and stronger and nobler for it? And Thurlow and Weed's picture +in the September number; I would not have died without seeing that, +no, not for anything this world can give. But looks back still +further and recall my own likeness as printed in the August number; +if I had been in my grave a thousand years when that appeared, +I would have got up and visited the artist. + +I sleep with all these portraits under my pillow every night, so that I +can go on studying them as soon as the day dawns in the morning. +I know them all as thoroughly as if I had made them myself; I know +every line and mark about them. Sometimes when company are present +I shuffle the portraits all up together, and then pick them out +one by one and call their names, without referring to the printing +on the bottom. I seldom make a mistake--never, when I am calm. + +I have had the portraits framed for a long time, waiting till +my aunt gets everything ready for hanging them up in the parlor. +But first one thing and then another interferes, and so the thing +is delayed. Once she said they would have more of the peculiar kind +of light they needed in the attic. The old simpleton! it is as dark +as a tomb up there. But she does not know anything about art, +and so she has no reverence for it. When I showed her my "Map of +the Fortifications of Paris," she said it was rubbish. + +Well, from nursing those portraits so long, I have come at last +to have a perfect infatuation for art. I have a teacher now, +and my enthusiasm continually and tumultuously grows, as I learn +to use with more and more facility the pencil, brush, and graver. +I am studying under De Mellville, the house and portrait painter. +[His name was Smith when he lived in the West.] He does any kind +of artist work a body wants, having a genius that is universal, +like Michael Angelo. Resembles that great artist, in fact. +The back of his head is like this, and he wears his hat-brim tilted +down on his nose to expose it. + +I have been studying under De Mellville several months now. +The first month I painted fences, and gave general satisfaction. +The next month I white-washed a barn. The third, I was doing +tin roofs; the forth, common signs; the fifth, statuary to stand +before cigar shops. This present month is only the sixth, and I am +already in portraits! + +The humble offering which accompanies these remarks [see figure]-- +the portrait of his Majesty William III., King of Prussia-- +is my fifth attempt in portraits, and my greatest success. +It has received unbounded praise from all classes of the community, +but that which gratifies me most is the frequent and cordial verdict +that it resembles the GALAXY portraits. Those were my first love, +my earliest admiration, the original source and incentive of my +art-ambition. Whatever I am in Art today, I owe to these portraits. +I ask no credit for myself--I deserve none. And I never take any, +either. Many a stranger has come to my exhibition (for I have had my +portrait of King William on exhibition at one dollar a ticket), and +would have gone away blessing ME, if I had let him, but I never did. +I always stated where I got the idea. + +King William wears large bushy side-whiskers, and some critics have +thought that this portrait would be more complete if they were added. +But it was not possible. There was not room for side-whiskers and +epaulets both, and so I let the whiskers go, and put in the epaulets, +for the sake of style. That thing on his hat is an eagle. +The Prussian eagle--it is a national emblem. When I saw hat I +mean helmet; but it seems impossible to make a picture of a helmet +that a body can have confidence in. + +I wish kind friends everywhere would aid me in my endeavor to attract +a little attention to the GALAXY portraits. I feel persuaded it can +be accomplished, if the course to be pursued be chosen with judgment. +I write for that magazine all the time, and so do many abler men, +and if I can get these portraits into universal favor, it is all I ask; +the reading-matter will take care of itself. + + +COMMENDATIONS OF THE PORTRAIT + + +There is nothing like it in the Vatican. Pius IX. + + +It has none of that vagueness, that dreamy spirituality about it, +which many of the first critics of Arkansas have objected to in the +Murillo school of Art. Ruskin. + + +The expression is very interesting. J.W. Titian. + + +(Keeps a macaroni store in Venice, at the old family stand.) + + +It is the neatest thing in still life I have seen for years. + +Rosa Bonheur. + + +The smile may be almost called unique. Bismarck. + + +I never saw such character portrayed in a picture face before. +De Mellville. + + +There is a benignant simplicity about the execution of this +work which warms the heart toward it as much, full as much, +as it fascinates the eye. Landseer. + + +One cannot see it without longing to contemplate the artist. + +Frederick William. + + +Send me the entire edition--together with the plate and the +original portrait--and name your own price. And--would you +like to come over and stay awhile with Napoleon at Wilhelmsh:ohe? +It shall not cost you a cent. William III. + + +*** + + + +DOES THE RACE OF MAN LOVE A LORD? + + + +Often a quite assified remark becomes sanctified by use and +petrified by custom; it is then a permanency, its term of activity +a geologic period. + + + +The day after the arrival of Prince Henry I met an English friend, +and he rubbed his hands and broke out with a remark that was charged +to the brim with joy--joy that was evidently a pleasant salve +to an old sore place: + +"Many a time I've had to listen without retort to an old saying +that is irritatingly true, and until now seemed to offer no chance +for a return jibe: 'An Englishman does dearly love a lord'; +but after this I shall talk back, and say, 'How about the Americans?'" + +It is a curious thing, the currency that an idiotic saying can get. +The man that first says it thinks he has made a discovery. +The man he says it to, thinks the same. It departs on its travels, +is received everywhere with admiring acceptance, and not only as +a piece of rare and acute observation, but as being exhaustively +true and profoundly wise; and so it presently takes its place +in the world's list of recognized and established wisdoms, +and after that no one thinks of examining it to see whether it is +really entitled to its high honors or not. I call to mind instances +of this in two well-established proverbs, whose dullness is not +surpassed by the one about the Englishman and his love for a lord: +one of them records the American's Adoration of the Almighty Dollar, +the other the American millionaire-girl's ambition to trade cash for +a title, with a husband thrown in. + +It isn't merely the American that adores the Almighty Dollar, +it is the human race. The human race has always adored the hatful +of shells, or the bale of calico, or the half-bushel of brass rings, +or the handful of steel fish-hooks, or the houseful of black wives, +or the zareba full of cattle, or the two-score camels and asses, +or the factory, or the farm, or the block of buildings, or the +railroad bonds, or the bank stock, or the hoarded cash, or-- +anything that stands for wealth and consideration and independence, +and can secure to the possessor that most precious of all things, +another man's envy. It was a dull person that invented the idea +that the American's devotion to the dollar is more strenuous than +another's. + +Rich American girls do buy titles, but they did not invent that idea; +it had been worn threadbare several hundred centuries before America +was discovered. European girls still exploit it as briskly as ever; +and, when a title is not to be had for the money in hand, they buy +the husband without it. They must put up the "dot," or there is +no trade. The commercialization of brides is substantially universal, +except in America. It exists with us, to some little extent, +but in no degree approaching a custom. + +"The Englishman dearly loves a lord." + +What is the soul and source of this love? I think the thing could +be more correctly worded: + +"The human race dearly envies a lord." + +That is to say, it envies the lord's place. Why? On two accounts, +I think: its Power and its Conspicuousness. + +Where Conspicuousness carries with it a Power which, by the light +of our own observation and experience, we are able to measure +and comprehend, I think our envy of the possessor is as deep and as +passionate as is that of any other nation. No one can care less +for a lord than the backwoodsman, who has had no personal contact +with lords and has seldom heard them spoken of; but I will not +allow that any Englishman has a profounder envy of a lord than has +the average American who has lived long years in a European capital +and fully learned how immense is the position the lord occupies. + +Of any ten thousand Americans who eagerly gather, at vast inconvenience, +to get a glimpse of Prince Henry, all but a couple of hundred +will be there out of an immense curiosity; they are burning up +with desire to see a personage who is so much talked about. +They envy him; but it is Conspicuousness they envy mainly, not the +Power that is lodged in his royal quality and position, for they +have but a vague and spectral knowledge and appreciation of that; +though their environment and associations they have been accustomed +to regard such things lightly, and as not being very real; consequently, +they are not able to value them enough to consumingly envy them. + +But, whenever an American (or other human being) is in the presence, +for the first time, of a combination of great Power and Conspicuousness +which he thoroughly understands and appreciates, his eager curiosity +and pleasure will be well-sodden with that other passion--envy-- +whether he suspects it or not. At any time, on any day, in any part +of America, you can confer a happiness upon any passing stranger +by calling his attention to any other passing stranger and saying: + +"Do you see that gentleman going along there? It is Mr. Rockefeller." + +Watch his eye. It is a combination of power and conspicuousness +which the man understands. + +When we understand rank, we always like to rub against it. +When a man is conspicuous, we always want to see him. Also, if he +will pay us an attention we will manage to remember it. Also, we +will mention it now and then, casually; sometimes to a friend, +or if a friend is not handy, we will make out with a stranger. + +Well, then, what is rank, and what is conspicuousness? At once we +think of kings and aristocracies, and of world-wide celebrities +in soldierships, the arts, letters, etc., and we stop there. +But that is a mistake. Rank holds its court and receives its homage +on every round of the ladder, from the emperor down to the rat-catcher; +and distinction, also, exists on every round of the ladder, +and commands its due of deference and envy. + +To worship rank and distinction is the dear and valued privilege +of all the human race, and it is freely and joyfully exercised +in democracies as well as in monarchies--and even, to some extent, +among those creatures whom we impertinently call the Lower Animals. +For even they have some poor little vanities and foibles, though in +this matter they are paupers as compared to us. + +A Chinese Emperor has the worship of his four hundred millions +of subjects, but the rest of the world is indifferent to him. +A Christian Emperor has the worship of his subjects and of a large +part of the Christian world outside of his domains; but he is +a matter of indifference to all China. A king, class A, has an +extensive worship; a king, class B, has a less extensive worship; +class C, class D, class E get a steadily diminishing share of worship; +class L (Sultan of Zanzibar), class P (Sultan of Sulu), and class W +(half-king of Samoa), get no worship at all outside their own little +patch of sovereignty. + +Take the distinguished people along down. Each has his group +of homage-payers. In the navy, there are many groups; they start +with the Secretary and the Admiral, and go down to the quartermaster-- +and below; for there will be groups among the sailors, and each of +these groups will have a tar who is distinguished for his battles, +or his strength, or his daring, or his profanity, and is admired +and envied by his group. The same with the army; the same +with the literary and journalistic craft; the publishing craft; +the cod-fishery craft; Standard Oil; U. S. Steel; the class A hotel-- +and the rest of the alphabet in that line; the class A prize-fighter-- +and the rest of the alphabet in his line--clear down to the lowest +and obscurest six-boy gang of little gamins, with its one boy +that can thrash the rest, and to whom he is king of Samoa, +bottom of the royal race, but looked up to with a most ardent +admiration and envy. + +There is something pathetic, and funny, and pretty, about this +human race's fondness for contact with power and distinction, +and for the reflected glory it gets out of it. The king, class A, +is happy in the state banquet and the military show which the +emperor provides for him, and he goes home and gathers the queen +and the princelings around him in the privacy of the spare room, +and tells them all about it, and says: + +"His Imperial Majesty put his hand upon my shoulder in the most +friendly way--just as friendly and familiar, oh, you can't imagine it!-- +and everybody SEEING him do it; charming, perfectly charming!" + +The king, class G, is happy in the cold collation and the police +parade provided for him by the king, class B, and goes home +and tells the family all about it, and says: + +"And His Majesty took me into his own private cabinet for a smoke +and a chat, and there we sat just as sociable, and talking away +and laughing and chatting, just the same as if we had been born +in the same bunk; and all the servants in the anteroom could see +us doing it! Oh, it was too lovely for anything!" + +The king, class Q, is happy in the modest entertainment furnished him +by the king, class M, and goes home and tells the household about it, +and is as grateful and joyful over it as were his predecessors +in the gaudier attentions that had fallen to their larger lot. + +Emperors, kings, artisans, peasants, big people, little people--at the +bottom we are all alike and all the same; all just alike on the inside, +and when our clothes are off, nobody can tell which of us is which. +We are unanimous in the pride we take in good and genuine compliments +paid us, and distinctions conferred upon us, in attentions shown. +There is not one of us, from the emperor down,, but is made like that. +Do I mean attentions shown us by the guest? No, I mean simply +flattering attentions, let them come whence they may. We despise +no source that can pay us a pleasing attention--there is no source +that is humble enough for that. You have heard a dear little girl +say to a frowzy and disreputable dog: "He came right to me and let +me pat him on the head, and he wouldn't let the others touch him!" +and you have seen her eyes dance with pride in that high distinction. +You have often seen that. If the child were a princess, would that +random dog be able to confer the like glory upon her with his +pretty compliment? Yes; and even in her mature life and seated +upon a throne, she would still remember it, still recall it, +still speak of it with frank satisfaction. That charming and +lovable German princess and poet, Carmen Sylva, Queen of Roumania, +remembers yet that the flowers of the woods and fields "talked to her" +when she was a girl, and she sets it down in her latest book; +and that the squirrels conferred upon her and her father the valued +compliment of not being afraid of them; and "once one of them, +holding a nut between its sharp little teeth, ran right up against +my father"--it has the very note of "He came right to me and let +me pat him on the head"--"and when it saw itself reflected in his +boot it was very much surprised, and stopped for a long time to +contemplate itself in the polished leather"--then it went its way. +And the birds! she still remembers with pride that "they came +boldly into my room," when she had neglected her "duty" and put +no food on the window-sill for them; she knew all the wild birds, +and forgets the royal crown on her head to remember with pride +that they knew her; also that the wasp and the bee were personal +friends of hers, and never forgot that gracious relationship +to her injury: "never have I been stung by a wasp or a bee." +And here is that proud note again that sings in that little child's +elation in being singled out, among all the company of children, +for the random dog's honor-conferring attentions. "Even in the very +worst summer for wasps, when, in lunching out of doors, our table +was covered with them and every one else was stung, they never +hurt me." + +When a queen whose qualities of mind and heart and character are +able to add distinction to so distinguished a place as a throne, +remembers with grateful exultation, after thirty years, honors and +distinctions conferred upon her by the humble, wild creatures of +the forest, we are helped to realize that complimentary attentions, +homage, distinctions, are of no caste, but are above all cast-- +that they are a nobility-conferring power apart. + +We all like these things. When the gate-guard at the railway-station +passes me through unchallenged and examines other people's tickets, +I feel as the king, class A, felt when the emperor put the imperial +hand on his shoulder, "everybody seeing him do it"; and as the child +felt when the random dog allowed her to pat his head and ostracized +the others; and as the princess felt when the wasps spared her +and stung the rest; and I felt just so, four years ago in Vienna +(and remember it yet), when the helmeted police shut me off, +with fifty others, from a street which the Emperor was to pass through, +and the captain of the squad turned and saw the situation and said +indignantly to that guard: + +"Can't you see it is the Herr Mark Twain? Let him through!" + +It was four years ago; but it will be four hundred before I forget +the wind of self-complacency that rose in me, and strained my +buttons when I marked the deference for me evoked in the faces of my +fellow-rabble, and noted, mingled with it, a puzzled and resentful +expression which said, as plainly as speech could have worded it: +"And who in the nation is the Herr Mark Twain UM GOTTESWILLEN?" + +How many times in your life have you heard this boastful remark: + +"I stood as close to him as I am to you; I could have put out my +hand and touched him." + +We have all heard it many and many a time. It was a proud +distinction to be able to say those words. It brought envy to +the speaker, a kind of glory; and he basked in it and was happy +through all his veins. And who was it he stood so close to? +The answer would cover all the grades. Sometimes it was a king; +sometimes it was a renowned highwayman; sometimes it was an unknown +man killed in an extraordinary way and made suddenly famous by it; +always it was a person who was for the moment the subject of public +interest of a village. + +"I was there, and I saw it myself." That is a common and +envy-compelling remark. It can refer to a battle; to a handing; +to a coronation; to the killing of Jumbo by the railway-train; +to the arrival of Jenny Lind at the Battery; to the meeting of the +President and Prince Henry; to the chase of a murderous maniac; +to the disaster in the tunnel; to the explosion in the subway; +to a remarkable dog-fight; to a village church struck by lightning. +It will be said, more or less causally, by everybody in America who has +seen Prince Henry do anything, or try to. The man who was absent +and didn't see him to anything, will scoff. It is his privilege; +and he can make capital out of it, too; he will seem, even to himself, +to be different from other Americans, and better. As his opinion +of his superior Americanism grows, and swells, and concentrates +and coagulates, he will go further and try to belittle the distinction +of those that saw the Prince do things, and will spoil their pleasure +in it if he can. My life has been embittered by that kind of persons. +If you are able to tell of a special distinction that has fallen +to your lot, it gravels them; they cannot bear it; and they try +to make believe that the thing you took for a special distinction +was nothing of the kind and was meant in quite another way. +Once I was received in private audience by an emperor. Last week +I was telling a jealous person about it, and I could see him wince +under it, see him bite, see him suffer. I revealed the whole episode +to him with considerable elaboration and nice attention to detail. +When I was through, he asked me what had impressed me most. +I said: + +"His Majesty's delicacy. They told me to be sure and back +out from the presence, and find the door-knob as best I could; +it was not allowable to face around. Now the Emperor knew it would +be a difficult ordeal for me, because of lack of practice; and so, +when it was time to part, he turned, with exceeding delicacy, +and pretended to fumble with things on his desk, so I could get +out in my own way, without his seeing me." + +It went home! It was vitriol! I saw the envy and disgruntlement rise +in the man's face; he couldn't keep it down. I saw him try to fix +up something in his mind to take the bloom off that distinction. +I enjoyed that, for I judged that he had his work cut out for him. +He struggled along inwardly for quite a while; then he said, +with a manner of a person who has to say something and hasn't anything +relevant to say: + +"You said he had a handful of special-brand cigars on the table?" + +"Yes; _I_ never said anything to match them." + +I had him again. He had to fumble around in his mind as much +as another minute before he could play; then he said in as mean +a way as I ever heard a person say anything: + +"He could have been counting the cigars, you know." + +I cannot endure a man like that. It is nothing to him how unkind +he is, so long as he takes the bloom off. It is all he cares for. + +"An Englishman (or other human being) does dearly love a lord," +(or other conspicuous person.) It includes us all. We love to be +noticed by the conspicuous person; we love to be associated with such, +or with a conspicuous event, even in a seventh-rate fashion, +even in the forty-seventh, if we cannot do better. This accounts +for some of our curious tastes in mementos. It accounts for the large +private trade in the Prince of Wales's hair, which chambermaids +were able to drive in that article of commerce when the Prince made +the tour of the world in the long ago--hair which probably did +not always come from his brush, since enough of it was marketed +to refurnish a bald comet; it accounts for the fact that the rope +which lynches a negro in the presence of ten thousand Christian +spectators is salable five minutes later at two dollars and inch; +it accounts for the mournful fact that a royal personage does not +venture to wear buttons on his coat in public. + +We do love a lord--and by that term I mean any person whose situation +is higher than our own. The lord of the group, for instance: +a group of peers, a group of millionaires, a group of hoodlums, +a group of sailors, a group of newsboys, a group of saloon politicians, +a group of college girls. No royal person has ever been the object +of a more delirious loyalty and slavish adoration than is paid +by the vast Tammany herd to its squalid idol in Wantage. There is +not a bifurcated animal in that menagerie that would not be proud +to appear in a newspaper picture in his company. At the same time, +there are some in that organization who would scoff at the people +who have been daily pictured in company with Prince Henry, and would +say vigorously that THEY would not consent to be photographed +with him--a statement which would not be true in any instance. +There are hundreds of people in America who would frankly say to you +that they would not be proud to be photographed in a group with +the Prince, if invited; and some of these unthinking people would +believe it when they said it; yet in no instance would it be true. +We have a large population, but we have not a large enough one, +by several millions, to furnish that man. He has not yet been begotten, +and in fact he is not begettable. + +You may take any of the printed groups, and there isn't a person +in the dim background who isn't visibly trying to be vivid; if it +is a crowd of ten thousand--ten thousand proud, untamed democrats, +horny-handed sons of toil and of politics, and fliers of the eagle-- +there isn't one who is trying to keep out of range, there isn't one +who isn't plainly meditating a purchase of the paper in the morning, +with the intention of hunting himself out in the picture and of framing +and keeping it if he shall find so much of his person in it as his +starboard ear. + +We all love to get some of the drippings of Conspicuousness, and we +will put up with a single, humble drip, if we can't get any more. +We may pretend otherwise, in conversation; but we can't pretend +it to ourselves privately--and we don't. We do confess in public +that we are the noblest work of God, being moved to it by long habit, +and teaching, and superstition; but deep down in the secret places +of our souls we recognize that, if we ARE the noblest work, the less +said about it the better. + +We of the North poke fun at the South for its fondness of titles-- +a fondness for titles pure and simple, regardless of whether they +are genuine or pinchbeck. We forget that whatever a Southerner +likes the rest of the human race likes, and that there is no law of +predilection lodged in one people that is absent from another people. +There is no variety in the human race. We are all children, +all children of the one Adam, and we love toys. We can soon acquire +that Southern disease if some one will give it a start. It already +has a start, in fact. I have been personally acquainted with over +eighty-four thousand persons who, at one time or another in their lives, +have served for a year or two on the staffs of our multitudinous +governors, and through that fatality have been generals temporarily, +and colonels temporarily, and judge-advocates temporarily; but I +have known only nine among them who could be hired to let the title +go when it ceased to be legitimate. I know thousands and thousands +of governors who ceased to be governors away back in the last century; +but I am acquainted with only three who would answer your letter +if you failed to call them "Governor" in it. I know acres and acres +of men who have done time in a legislature in prehistoric days, +but among them is not half an acre whose resentment you would not +raise if you addressed them as "Mr." instead of "Hon." The first thing +a legislature does is to convene in an impressive legislative attitude, +and get itself photographed. Each member frames his copy and takes +it to the woods and hangs it up in the most aggressively conspicuous +place in his house; and if you visit the house and fail to inquire +what that accumulation is, the conversation will be brought around +to it by that aforetime legislator, and he will show you a figure +in it which in the course of years he has almost obliterated +with the smut of his finger-marks, and say with a solemn joy, "It's me!" + +Have you ever seen a country Congressman enter the hotel breakfast-room +in Washington with his letters?--and sit at his table and let on +to read them?--and wrinkle his brows and frown statesman-like?-- +keeping a furtive watch-out over his glasses all the while to see +if he is being observed and admired?--those same old letters +which he fetches in every morning? Have you seen it? Have you +seen him show off? It is THE sight of the national capital. +Except one; a pathetic one. That is the ex-Congressman: the poor +fellow whose life has been ruined by a two-year taste of glory +and of fictitious consequence; who has been superseded, and ought +to take his heartbreak home and hide it, but cannot tear himself +away from the scene of his lost little grandeur; and so he lingers, +and still lingers, year after year, unconsidered, sometimes snubbed, +ashamed of his fallen estate, and valiantly trying to look otherwise; +dreary and depressed, but counterfeiting breeziness and gaiety, +hailing with chummy familiarity, which is not always welcomed, +the more-fortunes who are still in place and were once his mates. +Have you seen him? He clings piteously to the one little shred that +is left of his departed distinction--the "privilege of the floor"; +and works it hard and gets what he can out of it. That is the saddest +figure I know of. + +Yes, we do so love our little distinctions! And then we loftily +scoff at a Prince for enjoying his larger ones; forgetting that if we +only had his chance--ah! "Senator" is not a legitimate title. +A Senator has no more right to be addressed by it than have you +or I; but, in the several state capitals and in Washington, +there are five thousand Senators who take very kindly to +that fiction, and who purr gratefully when you call them by it-- +which you may do quite unrebuked. Then those same Senators smile +at the self-constructed majors and generals and judges of the South! + +Indeed, we do love our distinctions, get them how we may. +And we work them for all they are worth. In prayer we call +ourselves "worms of the dust," but it is only on a sort of tacit +understanding that the remark shall not be taken at par. WE-- +worms of the dust! Oh, no, we are not that. Except in fact; +and we do not deal much in fact when we are contemplating ourselves. + +As a race, we do certainly love a lord--let him be Croker, or a duke, +or a prize-fighter, or whatever other personage shall chance to be the +head of our group. Many years ago, I saw a greasy youth in overalls +standing by the HERALD office, with an expectant look in his face. +Soon a large man passed out, and gave him a pat on the shoulder. +That was what the boy was waiting for--the large man's notice. +The pat made him proud and happy, and the exultation inside of him +shone out through his eyes; and his mates were there to see the pat +and envy it and wish they could have that glory. The boy belonged +down cellar in the press-room, the large man was king of the +upper floors, foreman of the composing-room. The light in the boy's +face was worship, the foreman was his lord, head of his group. +The pat was an accolade. It was as precious to the boy as it would +have been if he had been an aristocrat's son and the accolade had +been delivered by his sovereign with a sword. The quintessence +of the honor was all there; there was no difference in values; +in truth there was no difference present except an artificial one-- +clothes. + +All the human race loves a lord--that is, loves to look upon +or be noticed by the possessor of Power or Conspicuousness; +and sometimes animals, born to better things and higher ideals, +descend to man's level in this matter. In the Jardin des Plantes +I have see a cat that was so vain of being the personal friend +of an elephant that I was ashamed of her. + + +*** + + + +EXTRACTS FROM ADAM'S DIARY + + + +MONDAY.--This new creature with the long hair is a good deal +in the way. It is always hanging around and following me about. +I don't like this; I am not used to company. I wish it would stay +with the other animals. . . . Cloudy today, wind in the east; +think we shall have rain. . . . WE? Where did I get that word-- +the new creature uses it. + +TUESDAY.--Been examining the great waterfall. It is the finest thing +on the estate, I think. The new creature calls it Niagara Falls-- +why, I am sure I do not know. Says it LOOKS like Niagara Falls. +That is not a reason, it is mere waywardness and imbecility. +I get no chance to name anything myself. The new creature names +everything that comes along, before I can get in a protest. +And always that same pretext is offered--it LOOKS like the thing. +There is a dodo, for instance. Says the moment one looks at it +one sees at a glance that it "looks like a dodo." It will have to +keep that name, no doubt. It wearies me to fret about it, and it +does no good, anyway. Dodo! It looks no more like a dodo than +I do. + +WEDNESDAY.--Built me a shelter against the rain, but could not +have it to myself in peace. The new creature intruded. When I +tried to put it out it shed water out of the holes it looks with, +and wiped it away with the back of its paws, and made a noise +such as some of the other animals make when they are in distress. +I wish it would not talk; it is always talking. That sounds like a +cheap fling at the poor creature, a slur; but I do not mean it so. +I have never heard the human voice before, and any new and strange +sound intruding itself here upon the solemn hush of these dreaming +solitudes offends my ear and seems a false note. And this new sound +is so close to me; it is right at my shoulder, right at my ear, +first on one side and then on the other, and I am used only to sounds +that are more or less distant from me. + +FRIDAY. The naming goes recklessly on, in spite of anything I can do. +I had a very good name for the estate, and it was musical and pretty-- +GARDEN OF EDEN. Privately, I continue to call it that, but not any +longer publicly. The new creature says it is all woods and rocks +and scenery, and therefore has no resemblance to a garden. Says it +LOOKS like a park, and does not look like anything BUT a park. +Consequently, without consulting me, it has been new-named NIAGARA +FALLS PARK. This is sufficiently high-handed, it seems to me. +And already there is a sign up: + + +KEEP OFF + + +THE GRASS + + +My life is not as happy as it was. + +SATURDAY.--The new creature eats too much fruit. We are going +to run short, most likely. "We" again--that is ITS word; mine, too, +now, from hearing it so much. Good deal of fog this morning. +I do not go out in the fog myself. This new creature does. +It goes out in all weathers, and stumps right in with its muddy feet. +And talks. It used to be so pleasant and quiet here. + +SUNDAY.--Pulled through. This day is getting to be more and more trying. +It was selected and set apart last November as a day of rest. +I had already six of them per week before. This morning found +the new creature trying to clod apples out of that forbidden tree. + +MONDAY.--The new creature says its name is Eve. That is all right, +I have no objections. Says it is to call it by, when I want it +to come. I said it was superfluous, then. The word evidently +raised me in its respect; and indeed it is a large, good word +and will bear repetition. It says it is not an It, it is a She. +This is probably doubtful; yet it is all one to me; what she is were +nothing to me if she would but go by herself and not talk. + +TUESDAY.--She has littered the whole estate with execrable names +and offensive signs: + + +This way to the Whirlpool + + +This way to Goat Island + + +Cave of the Winds this way + + +She says this park would make a tidy summer resort if there was +any custom for it. Summer resort--another invention of hers-- +just words, without any meaning. What is a summer resort? +But it is best not to ask her, she has such a rage for explaining. + +FRIDAY.--She has taken to beseeching me to stop going over the Falls. +What harm does it do? Says it makes her shudder. I wonder why; +I have always done it--always liked the plunge, and coolness. +I supposed it was what the Falls were for. They have no other +use that I can see, and they must have been made for something. +She says they were only made for scenery--like the rhinoceros and +the mastodon. + +I went over the Falls in a barrel--not satisfactory to her. +Went over in a tub--still not satisfactory. Swam the Whirlpool and +the Rapids in a fig-leaf suit. It got much damaged. Hence, tedious +complaints about my extravagance. I am too much hampered here. +What I need is a change of scene. + +SATURDAY.--I escaped last Tuesday night, and traveled two days, +and built me another shelter in a secluded place, and obliterated my +tracks as well as I could, but she hunted me out by means of a beast +which she has tamed and calls a wolf, and came making that pitiful +noise again, and shedding that water out of the places she looks with. +I was obliged to return with her, but will presently emigrate again +when occasion offers. She engages herself in many foolish things; +among others; to study out why the animals called lions and tigers +live on grass and flowers, when, as she says, the sort of teeth they +wear would indicate that they were intended to eat each other. +This is foolish, because to do that would be to kill each other, +and that would introduce what, as I understand, is called "death"; +and death, as I have been told, has not yet entered the Park. +Which is a pity, on some accounts. + +SUNDAY.--Pulled through. + +MONDAY.--I believe I see what the week is for: it is to give time +to rest up from the weariness of Sunday. It seems a good idea. +. . . She has been climbing that tree again. Clodded her out of it. +She said nobody was looking. Seems to consider that a sufficient +justification for chancing any dangerous thing. Told her that. +The word justification moved her admiration--and envy, too, I thought. +It is a good word. + +TUESDAY.--She told me she was made out of a rib taken from my body. +This is at least doubtful, if not more than that. I have not +missed any rib. . . . She is in much trouble about the buzzard; +says grass does not agree with it; is afraid she can't raise it; +thinks it was intended to live on decayed flesh. The buzzard must +get along the best it can with what is provided. We cannot overturn +the whole scheme to accommodate the buzzard. + +SATURDAY.--She fell in the pond yesterday when she was looking at +herself in it, which she is always doing. She nearly strangled, +and said it was most uncomfortable. This made her sorry for the +creatures which live in there, which she calls fish, for she continues +to fasten names on to things that don't need them and don't come +when they are called by them, which is a matter of no consequence +to her, she is such a numbskull, anyway; so she got a lot of them out +and brought them in last night and put them in my bed to keep warm, +but I have noticed them now and then all day and I don't see that +they are any happier there then they were before, only quieter. +When night comes I shall throw them outdoors. I will not sleep +with them again, for I find them clammy and unpleasant to lie among +when a person hasn't anything on. + +SUNDAY.--Pulled through. + +TUESDAY.--She has taken up with a snake now. The other animals are glad, +for she was always experimenting with them and bothering them; +and I am glad because the snake talks, and this enables me to get +a rest. + +FRIDAY.--She says the snake advises her to try the fruit of the tree, +and says the result will be a great and fine and noble education. +I told her there would be another result, too--it would introduce +death into the world. That was a mistake--it had been better +to keep the remark to myself; it only gave her an idea--she could +save the sick buzzard, and furnish fresh meat to the despondent +lions and tigers. I advised her to keep away from the tree. +She said she wouldn't. I foresee trouble. Will emigrate. + +WEDNESDAY.--I have had a variegated time. I escaped last night, +and rode a horse all night as fast as he could go, hoping to get +clear of the Park and hide in some other country before the +trouble should begin; but it was not to be. About an hour after +sun-up, as I was riding through a flowery plain where thousands +of animals were grazing, slumbering, or playing with each other, +according to their wont, all of a sudden they broke into a tempest +of frightful noises, and in one moment the plain was a frantic commotion +and every beast was destroying its neighbor. I knew what it meant-- +Eve had eaten that fruit, and death was come into the world. +. . . The tigers ate my house, paying no attention when I ordered +them to desist, and they would have eaten me if I had stayed-- +which I didn't, but went away in much haste. . . . I found this place, +outside the Park, and was fairly comfortable for a few days, but she +has found me out. Found me out, and has named the place Tonawanda-- +says it LOOKS like that. In fact I was not sorry she came, +for there are but meager pickings here, and she brought some +of those apples. I was obliged to eat them, I was so hungry. +It was against my principles, but I find that principles have no +real force except when one is well fed. . . . She came curtained +in boughs and bunches of leaves, and when I asked her what she +meant by such nonsense, and snatched them away and threw them down, +she tittered and blushed. I had never seen a person titter +and blush before, and to me it seemed unbecoming and idiotic. +She said I would soon know how it was myself. This was correct. +Hungry as I was, I laid down the apple half-eaten--certainly the +best one I ever saw, considering the lateness of the season-- +and arrayed myself in the discarded boughs and branches, and then +spoke to her with some severity and ordered her to go and get some +more and not make a spectacle or herself. She did it, and after this +we crept down to where the wild-beast battle had been, and collected +some skins, and I made her patch together a couple of suits proper +for public occasions. They are uncomfortable, it is true, but stylish, +and that is the main point about clothes. . . . I find she is a +good deal of a companion. I see I should be lonesome and depressed +without her, now that I have lost my property. Another thing, +she says it is ordered that we work for our living hereafter. +She will be useful. I will superintend. + +TEN DAYS LATER.--She accuses ME of being the cause of our disaster! +She says, with apparent sincerity and truth, that the Serpent assured +her that the forbidden fruit was not apples, it was chestnuts. +I said I was innocent, then, for I had not eaten any chestnuts. +She said the Serpent informed her that "chestnut" was a figurative +term meaning an aged and moldy joke. I turned pale at that, +for I have made many jokes to pass the weary time, and some of them +could have been of that sort, though I had honestly supposed +that they were new when I made them. She asked me if I had made +one just at the time of the catastrophe. I was obliged to admit +that I had made one to myself, though not aloud. It was this. +I was thinking about the Falls, and I said to myself, "How wonderful +it is to see that vast body of water tumble down there!" +Then in an instant a bright thought flashed into my head, and I let +it fly, saying, "It would be a deal more wonderful to see it tumble +UP there!"--and I was just about to kill myself with laughing at +it when all nature broke loose in war and death and I had to flee +for my life. "There," she said, with triumph, "that is just it; +the Serpent mentioned that very jest, and called it the First Chestnut, +and said it was coeval with the creation." Alas, I am indeed +to blame. Would that I were not witty; oh, that I had never had +that radiant thought! + +NEXT YEAR.--We have named it Cain. She caught it while I was up country +trapping on the North Shore of the Erie; caught it in the timber a +couple of miles from our dug-out--or it might have been four, she isn't +certain which. It resembles us in some ways, and may be a relation. +That is what she thinks, but this is an error, in my judgment. +The difference in size warrants the conclusion that it is a different +and new kind of animal--a fish, perhaps, though when I put it in the +water to see, it sank, and she plunged in and snatched it out before +there was opportunity for the experiment to determine the matter. +I still think it is a fish, but she is indifferent about what it is, +and will not let me have it to try. I do not understand this. +The coming of the creature seems to have changed her whole nature +and made her unreasonable about experiments. She thinks more +of it than she does of any of the other animals, but is not able +to explain why. Her mind is disordered--everything shows it. +Sometimes she carries the fish in her arms half the night when it +complains and wants to get to the water. At such times the water +comes out of the places in her face that she looks out of, and she +pats the fish on the back and makes soft sounds with her mouth +to soothe it, and betrays sorrow and solicitude in a hundred ways. +I have never seen her do like this with any other fish, and it +troubles me greatly. She used to carry the young tigers around so, +and play with them, before we lost our property, but it was only play; +she never took on about them like this when their dinner disagreed +with them. + +SUNDAY.--She doesn't work, Sundays, but lies around all tired out, +and likes to have the fish wallow over her; and she makes fool +noises to amuse it, and pretends to chew its paws, and that makes +it laugh. I have not seen a fish before that could laugh. +This makes me doubt. . . . I have come to like Sunday myself. +Superintending all the week tires a body so. There ought to be +more Sundays. In the old days they were tough, but now they +come handy. + +WEDNESDAY.--It isn't a fish. I cannot quite make out what it is. +It makes curious devilish noises when not satisfied, and says "goo-goo" +when it is. It is not one of us, for it doesn't walk; it is not +a bird, for it doesn't fly; it is not a frog, for it doesn't hop; +it is not a snake, for it doesn't crawl; I feel sure it is not a fish, +though I cannot get a chance to find out whether it can swim or not. +It merely lies around, and mostly on its back, with its feet up. +I have not seen any other animal do that before. I said I believed it +was an enigma; but she only admired the word without understanding it. +In my judgment it is either an enigma or some king of a bug. +If it dies, I will take it apart and see what its arrangements are. +I never had a thing perplex me so. + +THREE MONTHS LATER.--The perplexity augments instead of diminishing. +I sleep but little. It has ceased from lying around, and goes about on +its four legs now. Yet it differs from the other four legged animals, +in that its front legs are unusually short, consequently this +causes the main part of its person to stick up uncomfortably high +in the air, and this is not attractive. It is built much as we are, +but its method of traveling shows that it is not of our breed. +The short front legs and long hind ones indicate that it is a of +the kangaroo family, but it is a marked variation of that species, +since the true kangaroo hops, whereas this one never does. +Still it is a curious and interesting variety, and has not been +catalogued before. As I discovered it, I have felt justified +in securing the credit of the discovery by attaching my name to it, +and hence have called it KANGAROORUM ADAMIENSIS. . . . It must have +been a young one when it came, for it has grown exceedingly since. +It must be five times as big, now, as it was then, and when +discontented it is able to make from twenty-two to thirty-eight times +the noise it made at first. Coercion does not modify this, but has +the contrary effect. For this reason I discontinued the system. +She reconciles it by persuasion, and by giving it things which she +had previously told me she wouldn't give it. As already observed, +I was not at home when it first came, and she told me she found it +in the woods. It seems odd that it should be the only one, yet it +must be so, for I have worn myself out these many weeks trying to find +another one to add to my collection, and for this to play with; +for surely then it would be quieter and we could tame it more easily. +But I find none, nor any vestige of any; and strangest of all, +no tracks. It has to live on the ground, it cannot help itself; +therefore, how does it get about without leaving a track? +I have set a dozen traps, but they do no good. I catch all small +animals except that one; animals that merely go into the trap out +of curiosity, I think, to see what the milk is there for. They never +drink it. + +THREE MONTHS LATER.--The Kangaroo still continues to grow, which is +very strange and perplexing. I never knew one to be so long getting +its growth. It has fur on its head now; not like kangaroo fur, +but exactly like our hair except that it is much finer and softer, +and instead of being black is red. I am like to lose my mind over +the capricious and harassing developments of this unclassifiable +zoological freak. If I could catch another one--but that is hopeless; +it is a new variety, and the only sample; this is plain. But I +caught a true kangaroo and brought it in, thinking that this one, +being lonesome, would rather have that for company than have no kin +at all, or any animal it could feel a nearness to or get sympathy +from in its forlorn condition here among strangers who do not +know its ways or habits, or what to do to make it feel that it +is among friends; but it was a mistake--it went into such fits at +the sight of the kangaroo that I was convinced it had never seen +one before. I pity the poor noisy little animal, but there is +nothing I can do to make it happy. If I could tame it--but that is +out of the question; the more I try the worse I seem to make it. +It grieves me to the heart to see it in its little storms of sorrow +and passion. I wanted to let it go, but she wouldn't hear of it. +That seemed cruel and not like her; and yet she may be right. +It might be lonelier than ever; for since I cannot find another one, +how could IT? + +FIVE MONTHS LATER.--It is not a kangaroo. No, for it supports +itself by holding to her finger, and thus goes a few steps on its +hind legs, and then falls down. It is probably some kind of a bear; +and yet it has no tail--as yet--and no fur, except upon its head. +It still keeps on growing--that is a curious circumstance, +for bears get their growth earlier than this. Bears are dangerous-- +since our catastrophe--and I shall not be satisfied to have this +one prowling about the place much longer without a muzzle on. +I have offered to get her a kangaroo if she would let this one go, +but it did no good--she is determined to run us into all sorts +of foolish risks, I think. She was not like this before she lost +her mind. + +A FORTNIGHT LATER.--I examined its mouth. There is no danger yet: +it has only one tooth. It has no tail yet. It makes more noise +now than it ever did before--and mainly at night. I have moved out. +But I shall go over, mornings, to breakfast, and see if it has +more teeth. If it gets a mouthful of teeth it will be time for it +to go, tail or no tail, for a bear does not need a tail in order to +be dangerous. + +FOUR MONTHS LATER.--I have been off hunting and fishing a month, +up in the region that she calls Buffalo; I don't know why, unless it +is because there are not any buffaloes there. Meantime the bear +has learned to paddle around all by itself on its hind legs, +and says "poppa" and "momma." It is certainly a new species. +This resemblance to words may be purely accidental, of course, +and may have no purpose or meaning; but even in that case it is +still extraordinary, and is a thing which no other bear can do. +This imitation of speech, taken together with general absence of fur +and entire absence of tail, sufficiently indicates that this is a new +kind of bear. The further study of it will be exceedingly interesting. +Meantime I will go off on a far expedition among the forests of +the north and make an exhaustive search. There must certainly be +another one somewhere, and this one will be less dangerous when it +has company of its own species. I will go straightway; but I will +muzzle this one first. + +THREE MONTHS LATER.--It has been a weary, weary hunt, yet I have +had no success. In the mean time, without stirring from the +home estate, she has caught another one! I never saw such luck. +I might have hunted these woods a hundred years, I never would +have run across that thing. + +NEXT DAY.--I have been comparing the new one with the old one, +and it is perfectly plain that they are of the same breed. +I was going to stuff one of them for my collection, but she +is prejudiced against it for some reason or other; so I have +relinquished the idea, though I think it is a mistake. It would +be an irreparable loss to science if they should get away. +The old one is tamer than it was and can laugh and talk like a parrot, +having learned this, no doubt, from being with the parrot so much, +and having the imitative faculty in a high developed degree. +I shall be astonished if it turns out to be a new kind of parrot; +and yet I ought not to be astonished, for it has already been +everything else it could think of since those first days when it +was a fish. The new one is as ugly as the old one was at first; +has the same sulphur-and-raw-meat complexion and the same singular +head without any fur on it. She calls it Abel. + +TEN YEARS LATER.--They are BOYS; we found it out long ago. +It was their coming in that small immature shape that puzzled us; +we were not used to it. There are some girls now. Abel is a good boy, +but if Cain had stayed a bear it would have improved him. After all +these years, I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning; +it is better to live outside the Garden with her than inside it +without her. At first I thought she talked too much; but now I should +be sorry to have that voice fall silent and pass out of my life. +Blessed be the chestnut that brought us near together and taught me +to know the goodness of her heart and the sweetness of her spirit! + + +*** + + + +EVE'S DIARY + + +Translated from the Original + + + +SATURDAY.--I am almost a whole day old, now. I arrived yesterday. +That is as it seems to me. And it must be so, for if there was +a day-before-yesterday I was not there when it happened, or I +should remember it. It could be, of course, that it did happen, +and that I was not noticing. Very well; I will be very watchful now, +and if any day-before-yesterdays happen I will make a note of it. +It will be best to start right and not let the record get confused, +for some instinct tells me that these details are going to be +important to the historian some day. For I feel like an experiment, +I feel exactly like an experiment; it would be impossible for a person +to feel more like an experiment than I do, and so I am coming to feel +convinced that that is what I AM--an experiment; just an experiment, +and nothing more. + +Then if I am an experiment, am I the whole of it? No, I think not; +I think the rest of it is part of it. I am the main part of it, +but I think the rest of it has its share in the matter. Is my +position assured, or do I have to watch it and take care of it? +The latter, perhaps. Some instinct tells me that eternal vigilance +is the price of supremacy. [That is a good phrase, I think, for one +so young.] + +Everything looks better today than it did yesterday. In the rush of +finishing up yesterday, the mountains were left in a ragged condition, +and some of the plains were so cluttered with rubbish and remnants +that the aspects were quite distressing. Noble and beautiful works +of art should not be subjected to haste; and this majestic new world +is indeed a most noble and beautiful work. And certainly marvelously +near to being perfect, notwithstanding the shortness of the time. +There are too many stars in some places and not enough in others, +but that can be remedied presently, no doubt. The moon got +loose last night, and slid down and fell out of the scheme-- +a very great loss; it breaks my heart to think of it. There isn't +another thing among the ornaments and decorations that is comparable +to it for beauty and finish. It should have been fastened better. +If we can only get it back again-- + +But of course there is no telling where it went to. And besides, +whoever gets it will hide it; I know it because I would do it myself. +I believe I can be honest in all other matters, but I already +begin to realize that the core and center of my nature is love +of the beautiful, a passion for the beautiful, and that it would +not be safe to trust me with a moon that belonged to another person +and that person didn't know I had it. I could give up a moon that I +found in the daytime, because I should be afraid some one was looking; +but if I found it in the dark, I am sure I should find some kind +of an excuse for not saying anything about it. For I do love moons, +they are so pretty and so romantic. I wish we had five or six; +I would never go to bed; I should never get tired lying on the moss-bank +and looking up at them. + +Stars are good, too. I wish I could get some to put in my hair. +But I suppose I never can. You would be surprised to find how far +off they are, for they do not look it. When they first showed, +last night, I tried to knock some down with a pole, but it didn't reach, +which astonished me; then I tried clods till I was all tired out, +but I never got one. It was because I am left-handed and cannot +throw good. Even when I aimed at the one I wasn't after I +couldn't hit the other one, though I did make some close shots, +for I saw the black blot of the clod sail right into the midst of +the golden clusters forty or fifty times, just barely missing them, +and if I could have held out a little longer maybe I could have +got one. + +So I cried a little, which was natural, I suppose, for one of my age, +and after I was rested I got a basket and started for a place on the +extreme rim of the circle, where the stars were close to the ground +and I could get them with my hands, which would be better, anyway, +because I could gather them tenderly then, and not break them. +But it was farther than I thought, and at last I had go give it up; +I was so tired I couldn't drag my feet another step; and besides, +they were sore and hurt me very much. + +I couldn't get back home; it was too far and turning cold; +but I found some tigers and nestled in among them and was most +adorably comfortable, and their breath was sweet and pleasant, +because they live on strawberries. I had never seen a tiger before, +but I knew them in a minute by the stripes. If I could have one +of those skins, it would make a lovely gown. + +Today I am getting better ideas about distances. I was so eager +to get hold of every pretty thing that I giddily grabbed for it, +sometimes when it was too far off, and sometimes when it was but +six inches away but seemed a foot--alas, with thorns between! +I learned a lesson; also I made an axiom, all out of my own head-- +my very first one; THE SCRATCHED EXPERIMENT SHUNS THE THORN. +I think it is a very good one for one so young. + +I followed the other Experiment around, yesterday afternoon, +at a distance, to see what it might be for, if I could. But I was +not able to make out. I think it is a man. I had never seen a man, +but it looked like one, and I feel sure that that is what it is. +I realize that I feel more curiosity about it than about any +of the other reptiles. If it is a reptile, and I suppose it is; +for it has frowzy hair and blue eyes, and looks like a reptile. +It has no hips; it tapers like a carrot; when it stands, it spreads +itself apart like a derrick; so I think it is a reptile, though it may +be architecture. + +I was afraid of it at first, and started to run every time it +turned around, for I thought it was going to chase me; but by +and by I found it was only trying to get away, so after that I +was not timid any more, but tracked it along, several hours, +about twenty yards behind, which made it nervous and unhappy. +At last it was a good deal worried, and climbed a tree. I waited +a good while, then gave it up and went home. + +Today the same thing over. I've got it up the tree again. + +SUNDAY.--It is up there yet. Resting, apparently. But that is +a subterfuge: Sunday isn't the day of rest; Saturday is appointed +for that. It looks to me like a creature that is more interested +in resting than it anything else. It would tire me to rest so much. +It tires me just to sit around and watch the tree. I do wonder +what it is for; I never see it do anything. + +They returned the moon last night, and I was SO happy! I think +it is very honest of them. It slid down and fell off again, +but I was not distressed; there is no need to worry when one has +that kind of neighbors; they will fetch it back. I wish I could +do something to show my appreciation. I would like to send them +some stars, for we have more than we can use. I mean I, not we, +for I can see that the reptile cares nothing for such things. + +It has low tastes, and is not kind. When I went there yesterday +evening in the gloaming it had crept down and was trying to catch +the little speckled fishes that play in the pool, and I had +to clod it to make it go up the tree again and let them alone. +I wonder if THAT is what it is for? Hasn't it any heart? +Hasn't it any compassion for those little creature? Can it be +that it was designed and manufactured for such ungentle work? +It has the look of it. One of the clods took it back of the ear, +and it used language. It gave me a thrill, for it was the first time I +had ever heard speech, except my own. I did not understand the words, +but they seemed expressive. + +When I found it could talk I felt a new interest in it, for I +love to talk; I talk, all day, and in my sleep, too, and I am +very interesting, but if I had another to talk to I could be twice +as interesting, and would never stop, if desired. + +If this reptile is a man, it isn't an IT, is it? That wouldn't +be grammatical, would it? I think it would be HE. I think so. +In that case one would parse it thus: nominative, HE; dative, HIM; +possessive, HIS'N. Well, I will consider it a man and call it he +until it turns out to be something else. This will be handier +than having so many uncertainties. + +NEXT WEEK SUNDAY.--All the week I tagged around after him and tried +to get acquainted. I had to do the talking, because he was shy, +but I didn't mind it. He seemed pleased to have me around, and I +used the sociable "we" a good deal, because it seemed to flatter him +to be included. + +WEDNESDAY.--We are getting along very well indeed, now, and getting +better and better acquainted. He does not try to avoid me any more, +which is a good sign, and shows that he likes to have me with him. +That pleases me, and I study to be useful to him in every way I can, +so as to increase his regard. During the last day or two I +have taken all the work of naming things off his hands, and this +has been a great relief to him, for he has no gift in that line, +and is evidently very grateful. He can't think of a rational name +to save him, but I do not let him see that I am aware of his defect. +Whenever a new creature comes along I name it before he has time +to expose himself by an awkward silence. In this way I have +saved him many embarrassments. I have no defect like this. +The minute I set eyes on an animal I know what it is. I don't +have to reflect a moment; the right name comes out instantly, +just as if it were an inspiration, as no doubt it is, for I am +sure it wasn't in me half a minute before. I seem to know just +by the shape of the creature and the way it acts what animal +it is. + +When the dodo came along he thought it was a wildcat--I saw it +in his eye. But I saved him. And I was careful not to do it +in a way that could hurt his pride. I just spoke up in a quite +natural way of pleasing surprise, and not as if I was dreaming +of conveying information, and said, "Well, I do declare, if there +isn't the dodo!" I explained--without seeming to be explaining-- +how I know it for a dodo, and although I thought maybe he was +a little piqued that I knew the creature when he didn't, it was +quite evident that he admired me. That was very agreeable, and I +thought of it more than once with gratification before I slept. +How little a thing can make us happy when we feel that we have +earned it! + +THURSDAY.--my first sorrow. Yesterday he avoided me and seemed +to wish I would not talk to him. I could not believe it, +and thought there was some mistake, for I loved to be with him, +and loved to hear him talk, and so how could it be that he could +feel unkind toward me when I had not done anything? But at last it +seemed true, so I went away and sat lonely in the place where I first +saw him the morning that we were made and I did not know what he +was and was indifferent about him; but now it was a mournful place, +and every little think spoke of him, and my heart was very sore. +I did not know why very clearly, for it was a new feeling; I had +not experienced it before, and it was all a mystery, and I could +not make it out. + +But when night came I could not bear the lonesomeness, and went +to the new shelter which he has built, to ask him what I had done +that was wrong and how I could mend it and get back his kindness again; +but he put me out in the rain, and it was my first sorrow. + +SUNDAY.--It is pleasant again, now, and I am happy; but those were +heavy days; I do not think of them when I can help it. + +I tried to get him some of those apples, but I cannot learn to +throw straight. I failed, but I think the good intention pleased him. +They are forbidden, and he says I shall come to harm; but so I +come to harm through pleasing him, why shall I care for that harm? + +MONDAY.--This morning I told him my name, hoping it would interest him. +But he did not care for it. It is strange. If he should tell me +his name, I would care. I think it would be pleasanter in my ears +than any other sound. + +He talks very little. Perhaps it is because he is not bright, +and is sensitive about it and wishes to conceal it. It is +such a pity that he should feel so, for brightness is nothing; +it is in the heart that the values lie. I wish I could make him +understand that a loving good heart is riches, and riches enough, +and that without it intellect is poverty. + +Although he talks so little, he has quite a considerable +vocabulary. This morning he used a surprisingly good word. +He evidently recognized, himself, that it was a good one, for he +worked in in twice afterward, casually. It was good casual art, +still it showed that he possesses a certain quality of perception. +Without a doubt that seed can be made to grow, if cultivated. + +Where did he get that word? I do not think I have ever used it. + +No, he took no interest in my name. I tried to hide my disappointment, +but I suppose I did not succeed. I went away and sat on the +moss-bank with my feet in the water. It is where I go when I hunger +for companionship, some one to look at, some one to talk to. +It is not enough--that lovely white body painted there in the pool-- +but it is something, and something is better than utter loneliness. +It talks when I talk; it is sad when I am sad; it comforts me with +its sympathy; it says, "Do not be downhearted, you poor friendless girl; +I will be your friend." It IS a good friend to me, and my only one; +it is my sister. + +That first time that she forsook me! ah, I shall never forget that-- +never, never. My heart was lead in my body! I said, "She was all +I had, and now she is gone!" In my despair I said, "Break, my heart; +I cannot bear my life any more!" and hid my face in my hands, +and there was no solace for me. And when I took them away, +after a little, there she was again, white and shining and beautiful, +and I sprang into her arms! + +That was perfect happiness; I had known happiness before, but it was +not like this, which was ecstasy. I never doubted her afterward. +Sometimes she stayed away--maybe an hour, maybe almost the +whole day, but I waited and did not doubt; I said, "She is busy, +or she is gone on a journey, but she will come." And it was so: +she always did. At night she would not come if it was dark, for she +was a timid little thing; but if there was a moon she would come. +I am not afraid of the dark, but she is younger than I am; she was +born after I was. Many and many are the visits I have paid her; +she is my comfort and my refuge when my life is hard--and it is +mainly that. + +TUESDAY.--All the morning I was at work improving the estate; +and I purposely kept away from him in the hope that he would get +lonely and come. But he did not. + +At noon I stopped for the day and took my recreation by flitting all +about with the bees and the butterflies and reveling in the flowers, +those beautiful creatures that catch the smile of God out of the +sky and preserve it! I gathered them, and made them into wreaths +and garlands and clothed myself in them while I ate my luncheon-- +apples, of course; then I sat in the shade and wished and waited. +But he did not come. + +But no matter. Nothing would have come of it, for he does not +care for flowers. He called them rubbish, and cannot tell one +from another, and thinks it is superior to feel like that. He does +not care for me, he does not care for flowers, he does not care +for the painted sky at eventide--is there anything he does care for, +except building shacks to coop himself up in from the good clean rain, +and thumping the melons, and sampling the grapes, and fingering +the fruit on the trees, to see how those properties are coming along? + +I laid a dry stick on the ground and tried to bore a hole in it +with another one, in order to carry out a scheme that I had, +and soon I got an awful fright. A thin, transparent bluish film +rose out of the hole, and I dropped everything and ran! I thought +it was a spirit, and I WAS so frightened! But I looked back, and it +was not coming; so I leaned against a rock and rested and panted, +and let my limps go on trembling until they got steady again; +then I crept warily back, alert, watching, and ready to fly if there +was occasion; and when I was come near, I parted the branches +of a rose-bush and peeped through--wishing the man was about, +I was looking so cunning and pretty--but the sprite was gone. +I went there, and there was a pinch of delicate pink dust in the hole. +I put my finger in, to feel it, and said OUCH! and took it +out again. It was a cruel pain. I put my finger in my mouth; +and by standing first on one foot and then the other, and grunting, +I presently eased my misery; then I was full of interest, and began +to examine. + +I was curious to know what the pink dust was. Suddenly the name of it +occurred to me, though I had never heard of it before. It was FIRE! +I was as certain of it as a person could be of anything in the world. +So without hesitation I named it that--fire. + +I had created something that didn't exist before; I had added +a new thing to the world's uncountable properties; I realized this, +and was proud of my achievement, and was going to run and find him +and tell him about it, thinking to raise myself in his esteem-- +but I reflected, and did not do it. No--he would not care for it. +He would ask what it was good for, and what could I answer? for if it +was not GOOD for something, but only beautiful, merely beautiful-- + +So I sighed, and did not go. For it wasn't good for anything; +it could not build a shack, it could not improve melons, it could +not hurry a fruit crop; it was useless, it was a foolishness +and a vanity; he would despise it and say cutting words. +But to me it was not despicable; I said, "Oh, you fire, I love you, +you dainty pink creature, for you are BEAUTIFUL--and that is enough!" +and was going to gather it to my breast. But refrained. +Then I made another maxim out of my head, though it was so nearly +like the first one that I was afraid it was only a plagiarism: +"THE BURNT EXPERIMENT SHUNS THE FIRE." + +I wrought again; and when I had made a good deal of fire-dust I emptied +it into a handful of dry brown grass, intending to carry it home +and keep it always and play with it; but the wind struck it and it +sprayed up and spat out at me fiercely, and I dropped it and ran. +When I looked back the blue spirit was towering up and stretching +and rolling away like a cloud, and instantly I thought of the name +of it--SMOKE!--though, upon my word, I had never heard of smoke before. + +Soon brilliant yellow and red flares shot up through the smoke, +and I named them in an instant--FLAMES--and I was right, too, +though these were the very first flames that had ever been +in the world. They climbed the trees, then flashed splendidly +in and out of the vast and increasing volume of tumbling smoke, +and I had to clap my hands and laugh and dance in my rapture, +it was so new and strange and so wonderful and so beautiful! + +He came running, and stopped and gazed, and said not a word for +many minutes. Then he asked what it was. Ah, it was too bad that he +should ask such a direct question. I had to answer it, of course, +and I did. I said it was fire. If it annoyed him that I should know +and he must ask; that was not my fault; I had no desire to annoy him. +After a pause he asked: + +"How did it come?" + +Another direct question, and it also had to have a direct answer. + +"I made it." + +The fire was traveling farther and farther off. He went to the edge +of the burned place and stood looking down, and said: + +"What are these?" + +"Fire-coals." + +He picked up one to examine it, but changed his mind and put it +down again. Then he went away. NOTHING interests him. + +But I was interested. There were ashes, gray and soft and delicate +and pretty--I knew what they were at once. And the embers; +I knew the embers, too. I found my apples, and raked them out, +and was glad; for I am very young and my appetite is active. +But I was disappointed; they were all burst open and spoiled. +Spoiled apparently; but it was not so; they were better than raw ones. +Fire is beautiful; some day it will be useful, I think. + +FRIDAY.--I saw him again, for a moment, last Monday at nightfall, +but only for a moment. I was hoping he would praise me for trying +to improve the estate, for I had meant well and had worked hard. +But he was not pleased, and turned away and left me. He was also +displeased on another account: I tried once more to persuade him +to stop going over the Falls. That was because the fire had revealed +to me a new passion--quite new, and distinctly different from love, +grief, and those others which I had already discovered--FEAR. And it +is horrible!--I wish I had never discovered it; it gives me dark moments, +it spoils my happiness, it makes me shiver and tremble and shudder. +But I could not persuade him, for he has not discovered fear yet, +and so he could not understand me. + + +Extract from Adam's Diary + + +Perhaps I ought to remember that she is very young, a mere girl and +make allowances. She is all interest, eagerness, vivacity, the world +is to her a charm, a wonder, a mystery, a joy; she can't speak for +delight when she finds a new flower, she must pet it and caress it +and smell it and talk to it, and pour out endearing names upon it. +And she is color-mad: brown rocks, yellow sand, gray moss, green foliage, +blue sky; the pearl of the dawn, the purple shadows on the mountains, +the golden islands floating in crimson seas at sunset, the pallid moon +sailing through the shredded cloud-rack, the star-jewels glittering +in the wastes of space--none of them is of any practical value, +so far as I can see, but because they have color and majesty, +that is enough for her, and she loses her mind over them. +If she could quiet down and keep still a couple minutes at a time, +it would be a reposeful spectacle. In that case I think I could +enjoy looking at her; indeed I am sure I could, for I am coming +to realize that she is a quite remarkably comely creature-- +lithe, slender, trim, rounded, shapely, nimble, graceful; and once +when she was standing marble-white and sun-drenched on a boulder, +with her young head tilted back and her hand shading her eyes, +watching the flight of a bird in the sky, I recognized that she +was beautiful. + +MONDAY NOON.--If there is anything on the planet that she is not +interested in it is not in my list. There are animals that I am +indifferent to, but it is not so with her. She has no discrimination, +she takes to all of them, she thinks they are all treasures, +every new one is welcome. + +When the mighty brontosaurus came striding into camp, she regarded +it as an acquisition, I considered it a calamity; that is a good +sample of the lack of harmony that prevails in our views of things. +She wanted to domesticate it, I wanted to make it a present of the +homestead and move out. She believed it could be tamed by kind +treatment and would be a good pet; I said a pet twenty-one feet +high and eight-four feet long would be no proper thing to have +about the place, because, even with the best intentions and without +meaning any harm, it could sit down on the house and mash it, +for any one could see by the look of its eye that it was absent-minded. + +Still, her heart was set upon having that monster, and she +couldn't give it up. She thought we could start a dairy with it, +and wanted me to help milk it; but I wouldn't; it was too risky. +The sex wasn't right, and we hadn't any ladder anyway. Then she +wanted to ride it, and look at the scenery. Thirty or forty feet +of its tail was lying on the ground, like a fallen tree, and she +thought she could climb it, but she was mistaken; when she got +to the steep place it was too slick and down she came, and would +have hurt herself but for me. + +Was she satisfied now? No. Nothing ever satisfies her but demonstration; +untested theories are not in her line, and she won't have them. +It is the right spirit, I concede it; it attracts me; I feel the +influence of it; if I were with her more I think I should take it +up myself. Well, she had one theory remaining about this colossus: +she thought that if we could tame it and make him friendly we could +stand in the river and use him for a bridge. It turned out that he +was already plenty tame enough--at least as far as she was concerned-- +so she tried her theory, but it failed: every time she got him +properly placed in the river and went ashore to cross over him, +he came out and followed her around like a pet mountain. Like the +other animals. They all do that. + + +FRIDAY.--Tuesday--Wednesday--Thursday--and today: all without +seeing him. It is a long time to be alone; still, it is better +to be alone than unwelcome. + +I HAD to have company--I was made for it, I think--so I made +friends with the animals. They are just charming, and they have +the kindest disposition and the politest ways; they never look sour, +they never let you feel that you are intruding, they smile at you +and wag their tail, if they've got one, and they are always ready +for a romp or an excursion or anything you want to propose. +I think they are perfect gentlemen. All these days we have had such +good times, and it hasn't been lonesome for me, ever. Lonesome! No, +I should say not. Why, there's always a swarm of them around-- +sometimes as much as four or five acres--you can't count them; +and when you stand on a rock in the midst and look out over the +furry expanse it is so mottled and splashed and gay with color +and frisking sheen and sun-flash, and so rippled with stripes, +that you might think it was a lake, only you know it isn't; +and there's storms of sociable birds, and hurricanes of whirring wings; +and when the sun strikes all that feathery commotion, you have a blazing +up of all the colors you can think of, enough to put your eyes out. + +We have made long excursions, and I have see a great deal of the world; +almost all of it, I think; and so I am the first traveler, +and the only one. When we are on the march, it is an imposing sight-- +there's nothing like it anywhere. For comfort I ride a tiger +or a leopard, because it is soft and has a round back that fits me, +and because they are such pretty animals; but for long distance +or for scenery I ride the elephant. He hoists me up with his trunk, +but I can get off myself; when we are ready to camp, he sits and I +slide down the back way. + +The birds and animals are all friendly to each other, and there +are no disputes about anything. They all talk, and they all talk +to me, but it must be a foreign language, for I cannot make out +a word they say; yet they often understand me when I talk back, +particularly the dog and the elephant. It makes me ashamed. +It shows that they are brighter than I am, for I want to be the +principal Experiment myself--and I intend to be, too. + +I have learned a number of things, and am educated, now, but I +wasn't at first. I was ignorant at first. At first it used to vex +me because, with all my watching, I was never smart enough to be +around when the water was running uphill; but now I do not mind it. +I have experimented and experimented until now I know it never +does run uphill, except in the dark. I know it does in the dark, +because the pool never goes dry, which it would, of course, +if the water didn't come back in the night. It is best to prove +things by actual experiment; then you KNOW; whereas if you depend +on guessing and supposing and conjecturing, you never get educated. + +Some things you CAN'T find out; but you will never know you can't +by guessing and supposing: no, you have to be patient and go on +experimenting until you find out that you can't find out. And it is +delightful to have it that way, it makes the world so interesting. +If there wasn't anything to find out, it would be dull. Even trying +to find out and not finding out is just as interesting as trying +to find out and finding out, and I don't know but more so. +The secret of the water was a treasure until I GOT it; then the +excitement all went away, and I recognized a sense of loss. + +By experiment I know that wood swims, and dry leaves, and feathers, +and plenty of other things; therefore by all that cumulative evidence +you know that a rock will swim; but you have to put up with simply +knowing it, for there isn't any way to prove it--up to now. +But I shall find a way--then THAT excitement will go. Such things +make me sad; because by and by when I have found out everything +there won't be any more excitements, and I do love excitements so! +The other night I couldn't sleep for thinking about it. + +At first I couldn't make out what I was made for, but now I think it +was to search out the secrets of this wonderful world and be happy +and thank the Giver of it all for devising it. I think there are many +things to learn yet--I hope so; and by economizing and not hurrying +too fast I think they will last weeks and weeks. I hope so. When you +cast up a feather it sails away on the air and goes out of sight; +then you throw up a clod and it doesn't. It comes down, every time. +I have tried it and tried it, and it is always so. I wonder why +it is? Of course it DOESN'T come down, but why should it SEEM to? +I suppose it is an optical illusion. I mean, one of them is. +I don't know which one. It may be the feather, it may be the clod; +I can't prove which it is, I can only demonstrate that one or the other +is a fake, and let a person take his choice. + +By watching, I know that the stars are not going to last. +I have seen some of the best ones melt and run down the sky. +Since one can melt, they can all melt; since they can all melt, +they can all melt the same night. That sorrow will come--I know it. +I mean to sit up every night and look at them as long as I can +keep awake; and I will impress those sparkling fields on my memory, +so that by and by when they are taken away I can by my fancy restore +those lovely myriads to the black sky and make them sparkle again, +and double them by the blur of my tears. + + +After the Fall + + +When I look back, the Garden is a dream to me. It was beautiful, +surpassingly beautiful, enchantingly beautiful; and now it is lost, +and I shall not see it any more. + +The Garden is lost, but I have found HIM, and am content. +He loves me as well as he can; I love him with all the strength +of my passionate nature, and this, I think, is proper to my youth +and sex. If I ask myself why I love him, I find I do not know, +and do not really much care to know; so I suppose that this kind +of love is not a product of reasoning and statistics, like one's +love for other reptiles and animals. I think that this must be so. +I love certain birds because of their song; but I do not love Adam +on account of his singing--no, it is not that; the more he sings +the more I do not get reconciled to it. Yet I ask him to sing, +because I wish to learn to like everything he is interested in. +I am sure I can learn, because at first I could not stand it, +but now I can. It sours the milk, but it doesn't matter; I can get +used to that kind of milk. + +It is not on account of his brightness that I love him--no, it is +not that. He is not to blame for his brightness, such as it is, +for he did not make it himself; he is as God make him, and that +is sufficient. There was a wise purpose in it, THAT I know. +In time it will develop, though I think it will not be sudden; +and besides, there is no hurry; he is well enough just as he is. + +It is not on account of his gracious and considerate ways and +his delicacy that I love him. No, he has lacks in this regard, +but he is well enough just so, and is improving. + +It is not on account of his industry that I love him--no, it is +not that. I think he has it in him, and I do not know why he +conceals it from me. It is my only pain. Otherwise he is frank +and open with me, now. I am sure he keeps nothing from me but this. +It grieves me that he should have a secret from me, and sometimes it +spoils my sleep, thinking of it, but I will put it out of my mind; +it shall not trouble my happiness, which is otherwise full +to overflowing. + +It is not on account of his education that I love him--no, it is +not that. He is self-educated, and does really know a multitude +of things, but they are not so. + +It is not on account of his chivalry that I love him--no, it is not that. +He told on me, but I do not blame him; it is a peculiarity of sex, +I think, and he did not make his sex. Of course I would not have +told on him, I would have perished first; but that is a peculiarity +of sex, too, and I do not take credit for it, for I did not make +my sex. + +Then why is it that I love him? MERELY BECAUSE HE IS MASCULINE, +I think. + +At bottom he is good, and I love him for that, but I could love +him without it. If he should beat me and abuse me, I should go +on loving him. I know it. It is a matter of sex, I think. + +He is strong and handsome, and I love him for that, and I admire him +and am proud of him, but I could love him without those qualities. +He he were plain, I should love him; if he were a wreck, I should +love him; and I would work for him, and slave over him, and pray +for him, and watch by his bedside until I died. + +Yes, I think I love him merely because he is MINE and is MASCULINE. +There is no other reason, I suppose. And so I think it is as I +first said: that this kind of love is not a product of reasonings +and statistics. It just COMES--none knows whence--and cannot +explain itself. And doesn't need to. + +It is what I think. But I am only a girl, the first that has +examined this matter, and it may turn out that in my ignorance +and inexperience I have not got it right. + + +Forty Years Later + + +It is my prayer, it is my longing, that we may pass from this +life together--a longing which shall never perish from the earth, +but shall have place in the heart of every wife that loves, +until the end of time; and it shall be called by my name. + +But if one of us must go first, it is my prayer that it shall be I; +for he is strong, I am weak, I am not so necessary to him as he is +to me--life without him would not be life; now could I endure it? +This prayer is also immortal, and will not cease from being offered up +while my race continues. I am the first wife; and in the last wife I +shall be repeated. + + +At Eve's Grave + + +ADAM: Wheresoever she was, THERE was Eden. + + +*** + +The End of Project Gutenberg etext of "The $30,000 Bequest" + diff --git a/old/old/beqst11.zip b/old/old/beqst11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..adddf03 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/beqst11.zip diff --git a/old/old/beqst12.txt b/old/old/beqst12.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6d0266 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/beqst12.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11208 @@ +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois + Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty free +copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution you can +think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg Association +/ Illinois Benedictine College". + +This "Small Print!" by Charles B. Kramer, Attorney Internet +(72600.2026@compuserve.com); TEL: (212-254-5093) +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + THE $30,000 BEQUEST + and Other Stories + + by + Mark Twain + (Samuel L. Clemens) + + The $30,000 Bequest + A Dog's Tale + Was It Heaven? Or Hell? + A Cure for the Blues + The Enemy Conquered; or, Love Triumphant + The Californian's Tale + A Helpless Situation + A Telephonic Conversation + Edward Mills and George Benton: A Tale + The Five Boons of Life + The First Writing-machines + Italian without a Master + Italian with Grammar + A Burlesque Biography + How to Tell a Story + General Washington's Negro Body-servant + Wit Inspirations of the "Two-year-olds" + An Entertaining Article + A Letter to the Secretary of the Treasury + Amended Obituaries + A Monument to Adam + A Humane Word from Satan + Introduction to "The New Guide of the + Conversation in Portuguese and English" + Advice to Little Girls + Post-mortem Poetry + The Danger of Lying in Bed + Portrait of King William III + Does the Race of Man Love a Lord? + Extracts from Adam's Diary + Eve's Diary + + +*** + + +THE $30,000 BEQUEST + + +CHAPTER I + + +Lakeside was a pleasant little town of five or six thousand inhabitants, +and a rather pretty one, too, as towns go in the Far West. +It had church accommodations for thirty-five thousand, which is +the way of the Far West and the South, where everybody is religious, +and where each of the Protestant sects is represented and has a plant +of its own. Rank was unknown in Lakeside--unconfessed, anyway; +everybody knew everybody and his dog, and a sociable friendliness +was the prevailing atmosphere. + +Saladin Foster was book-keeper in the principal store, and the only +high-salaried man of his profession in Lakeside. He was thirty-five +years old, now; he had served that store for fourteen years; +he had begun in his marriage-week at four hundred dollars a year, +and had climbed steadily up, a hundred dollars a year, for four years; +from that time forth his wage had remained eight hundred--a handsome +figure indeed, and everybody conceded that he was worth it. + +His wife, Electra, was a capable helpmeet, although--like himself-- +a dreamer of dreams and a private dabbler in romance. The first thing +she did, after her marriage--child as she was, aged only nineteen-- +was to buy an acre of ground on the edge of the town, and pay +down the cash for it--twenty-five dollars, all her fortune. +Saladin had less, by fifteen. She instituted a vegetable garden there, +got it farmed on shares by the nearest neighbor, and made it pay +her a hundred per cent. a year. Out of Saladin's first year's wage +she put thirty dollars in the savings-bank, sixty out of his second, +a hundred out of his third, a hundred and fifty out of his fourth. +His wage went to eight hundred a year, then, and meantime two children +had arrived and increased the expenses, but she banked two hundred +a year from the salary, nevertheless, thenceforth. When she had been +married seven years she built and furnished a pretty and comfortable +two-thousand-dollar house in the midst of her garden-acre, paid +half of the money down and moved her family in. Seven years later +she was out of debt and had several hundred dollars out earning +its living. + +Earning it by the rise in landed estate; for she had long ago bought +another acre or two and sold the most of it at a profit to pleasant +people who were willing to build, and would be good neighbors and +furnish a general comradeship for herself and her growing family. +She had an independent income from safe investments of about a hundred +dollars a year; her children were growing in years and grace; +and she was a pleased and happy woman. Happy in her husband, happy in +her children, and the husband and the children were happy in her. +It is at this point that this history begins. + +The youngest girl, Clytemnestra--called Clytie for short-- +was eleven; her sister, Gwendolen--called Gwen for short-- +was thirteen; nice girls, and comely. The names betray the latent +romance-tinge in the parental blood, the parents' names indicate +that the tinge was an inheritance. It was an affectionate family, +hence all four of its members had pet names, Saladin's was a curious +and unsexing one--Sally; and so was Electra's--Aleck. All day +long Sally was a good and diligent book-keeper and salesman; +all day long Aleck was a good and faithful mother and housewife, +and thoughtful and calculating business woman; but in the cozy +living-room at night they put the plodding world away, and lived in +another and a fairer, reading romances to each other, dreaming dreams, +comrading with kings and princes and stately lords and ladies in the +flash and stir and splendor of noble palaces and grim and ancient castles. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Now came great news! Stunning news--joyous news, in fact. +It came from a neighboring state, where the family's only surviving +relative lived. It was Sally's relative--a sort of vague and indefinite +uncle or second or third cousin by the name of Tilbury Foster, +seventy and a bachelor, reputed well off and corresponding sour +and crusty. Sally had tried to make up to him once, by letter, +in a bygone time, and had not made that mistake again. Tilbury now +wrote to Sally, saying he should shortly die, and should leave him +thirty thousand dollars, cash; not for love, but because money +had given him most of his troubles and exasperations, and he wished +to place it where there was good hope that it would continue its +malignant work. The bequest would be found in his will, and would +be paid over. PROVIDED, that Sally should be able to prove to the +executors that he had TAKEN NO NOTICE OF THE GIFT BY SPOKEN WORD OR +BY LETTER, HAD MADE NO INQUIRIES CONCERNING THE MORIBUND'S PROGRESS +TOWARD THE EVERLASTING TROPICS, AND HAD NOT ATTENDED THE FUNERAL. + +As soon as Aleck had partially recovered from the tremendous +emotions created by the letter, she sent to the relative's habitat +and subscribed for the local paper. + +Man and wife entered into a solemn compact, now, to never mention +the great news to any one while the relative lived, lest some +ignorant person carry the fact to the death-bed and distort it +and make it appear that they were disobediently thankful for +the bequest, and just the same as confessing it and publishing it, +right in the face of the prohibition. + +For the rest of the day Sally made havoc and confusion with his books, +and Aleck could not keep her mind on her affairs, not even take up +a flower-pot or book or a stick of wood without forgetting what she +had intended to do with it. For both were dreaming. + +"Thir-ty thousand dollars!" + +All day long the music of those inspiring words sang through +those people's heads. + +From his marriage-day forth, Aleck's grip had been upon the purse, +and Sally had seldom known what it was to be privileged to squander +a dime on non-necessities. + +"Thir-ty thousand dollars!" the song went on and on. A vast sum, +an unthinkable sum! + +All day long Aleck was absorbed in planning how to invest it, +Sally in planning how to spend it. + +There was no romance-reading that night. The children took +themselves away early, for their parents were silent, distraught, +and strangely unentertaining. The good-night kisses might as well +have been impressed upon vacancy, for all the response they got; +the parents were not aware of the kisses, and the children had +been gone an hour before their absence was noticed. Two pencils +had been busy during that hour--note-making; in the way of plans. +It was Sally who broke the stillness at last. He said, with exultation: + +"Ah, it'll be grand, Aleck! Out of the first thousand we'll have +a horse and a buggy for summer, and a cutter and a skin lap-robe +for winter." + +Aleck responded with decision and composure-- + +"Out of the CAPITAL? Nothing of the kind. Not if it was a million!" + +Sally was deeply disappointed; the glow went out of his face. + +"Oh, Aleck!" he said, reproachfully. "We've always worked so hard +and been so scrimped: and now that we are rich, it does seem--" + +He did not finish, for he saw her eye soften; his supplication +had touched her. She said, with gentle persuasiveness: + +"We must not spend the capital, dear, it would not be wise. +Out of the income from it--" + +"That will answer, that will answer, Aleck! How dear and good you are! +There will be a noble income and if we can spend that--" + +"Not ALL of it, dear, not all of it, but you can spend a part of it. +That is, a reasonable part. But the whole of the capital-- +every penny of it--must be put right to work, and kept at it. +You see the reasonableness of that, don't you?" + +"Why, ye-s. Yes, of course. But we'll have to wait so long. +Six months before the first interest falls due." + +"Yes--maybe longer." + +"Longer, Aleck? Why? Don't they pay half-yearly?" + +"THAT kind of an investment--yes; but I sha'n't invest in that way." + +"What way, then?" + +"For big returns." + +"Big. That's good. Go on, Aleck. What is it?" + +"Coal. The new mines. Cannel. I mean to put in ten thousand. +Ground floor. When we organize, we'll get three shares for one." + +"By George, but it sounds good, Aleck! Then the shares will be worth-- +how much? And when?" + +"About a year. They'll pay ten per cent. half yearly, and be +worth thirty thousand. I know all about it; the advertisement +is in the Cincinnati paper here." + +"Land, thirty thousand for ten--in a year! Let's jam in the whole +capital and pull out ninety! I'll write and subscribe right now-- +tomorrow it maybe too late." + +He was flying to the writing-desk, but Aleck stopped him and put +him back in his chair. She said: + +"Don't lose your head so. WE mustn't subscribe till we've got +the money; don't you know that?" + +Sally's excitement went down a degree or two, but he was not +wholly appeased. + +"Why, Aleck, we'll HAVE it, you know--and so soon, too. He's probably +out of his troubles before this; it's a hundred to nothing he's +selecting his brimstone-shovel this very minute. Now, I think--" + +Aleck shuddered, and said: + +"How CAN you, Sally! Don't talk in that way, it is perfectly scandalous." + +"Oh, well, make it a halo, if you like, _I_ don't care for his outfit, +I was only just talking. Can't you let a person talk?" + +"But why should you WANT to talk in that dreadful way? How would +you like to have people talk so about YOU, and you not cold yet?" + +"Not likely to be, for ONE while, I reckon, if my last act was +giving away money for the sake of doing somebody a harm with it. +But never mind about Tilbury, Aleck, let's talk about something worldly. +It does seem to me that that mine is the place for the whole thirty. +What's the objection?" + +"All the eggs in one basket--that's the objection." + +"All right, if you say so. What about the other twenty? +What do you mean to do with that?" + +"There is no hurry; I am going to look around before I do anything +with it." + +"All right, if your mind's made up," signed Sally. He was deep +in thought awhile, then he said: + +"There'll be twenty thousand profit coming from the ten a year +from now. We can spend that, can we, Aleck?" + +Aleck shook her head. + +"No, dear," she said, "it won't sell high till we've had the first +semi-annual dividend. You can spend part of that." + +"Shucks, only THAT--and a whole year to wait! Confound it, I--" + +"Oh, do be patient! It might even be declared in three months-- +it's quite within the possibilities." + +"Oh, jolly! oh, thanks!" and Sally jumped up and kissed his wife +in gratitude. "It'll be three thousand--three whole thousand! +how much of it can we spend, Aleck? Make it liberal!--do, dear, +that's a good fellow." + +Aleck was pleased; so pleased that she yielded to the pressure and +conceded a sum which her judgment told her was a foolish extravagance-- +a thousand dollars. Sally kissed her half a dozen times and even +in that way could not express all his joy and thankfulness. +This new access of gratitude and affection carried Aleck quite +beyond the bounds of prudence, and before she could restrain +herself she had made her darling another grant--a couple +of thousand out of the fifty or sixty which she meant to clear +within a year of the twenty which still remained of the bequest. +The happy tears sprang to Sally's eyes, and he said: + +"Oh, I want to hug you!" And he did it. Then he got his +notes and sat down and began to check off, for first purchase, +the luxuries which he should earliest wish to secure. +"Horse--buggy--cutter--lap-robe--patent-leathers--dog--plug-hat-- +church-pew--stem-winder--new teeth--SAY, Aleck!" + +"Well?" + +"Ciphering away, aren't you? That's right. Have you got the twenty +thousand invested yet?" + +"No, there's no hurry about that; I must look around first, +and think." + +"But you are ciphering; what's it about?" + +"Why, I have to find work for the thirty thousand that comes out +of the coal, haven't I?" + +"Scott, what a head! I never thought of that. How are you +getting along? Where have you arrived?" + +"Not very far--two years or three. I've turned it over twice; +once in oil and once in wheat." + +"Why, Aleck, it's splendid! How does it aggregate?" + +"I think--well, to be on the safe side, about a hundred and eighty +thousand clear, though it will probably be more." + +"My! isn't it wonderful? By gracious! luck has come our way at last, +after all the hard sledding, Aleck!" + +"Well?" + +"I'm going to cash in a whole three hundred on the missionaries-- +what real right have we care for expenses!" + +"You couldn't do a nobler thing, dear; and it's just like your +generous nature, you unselfish boy." + +The praise made Sally poignantly happy, but he was fair and just +enough to say it was rightfully due to Aleck rather than to himself, +since but for her he should never have had the money. + +Then they went up to bed, and in their delirium of bliss they forgot +and left the candle burning in the parlor. They did not remember +until they were undressed; then Sally was for letting it burn; +he said they could afford it, if it was a thousand. But Aleck went +down and put it out. + +A good job, too; for on her way back she hit on a scheme that would +turn the hundred and eighty thousand into half a million before it +had had time to get cold. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The little newspaper which Aleck had subscribed for was a Thursday sheet; +it would make the trip of five hundred miles from Tilbury's village +and arrive on Saturday. Tilbury's letter had started on Friday, +more than a day too late for the benefactor to die and get into +that week's issue, but in plenty of time to make connection for the +next output. Thus the Fosters had to wait almost a complete week to +find out whether anything of a satisfactory nature had happened to him +or not. It was a long, long week, and the strain was a heavy one. +The pair could hardly have borne it if their minds had not had the +relief of wholesome diversion. We have seen that they had that. +The woman was piling up fortunes right along, the man was spending them-- +spending all his wife would give him a chance at, at any rate. + +At last the Saturday came, and the WEEKLY SAGAMORE arrived. +Mrs. Eversly Bennett was present. She was the Presbyterian +parson's wife, and was working the Fosters for a charity. +Talk now died a sudden death--on the Foster side. Mrs. Bennett +presently discovered that her hosts were not hearing a word she +was saying; so she got up, wondering and indignant, and went away. +The moment she was out of the house, Aleck eagerly tore the wrapper +from the paper, and her eyes and Sally's swept the columns for the +death-notices. Disappointment! Tilbury was not anywhere mentioned. +Aleck was a Christian from the cradle, and duty and the force of +habit required her to go through the motions. She pulled herself +together and said, with a pious two-per-cent. trade joyousness: + +"Let us be humbly thankful that he has been spared; and--" + +"Damn his treacherous hide, I wish--" + +"Sally! For shame!" + +"I don't care!" retorted the angry man. "It's the way YOU feel, +and if you weren't so immorally pious you'd be honest and say so." + +Aleck said, with wounded dignity: + +"I do not see how you can say such unkind and unjust things. +There is no such thing as immoral piety." + +Sally felt a pang, but tried to conceal it under a shuffling attempt +to save his case by changing the form of it--as if changing the form +while retaining the juice could deceive the expert he was trying +to placate. He said: + +"I didn't mean so bad as that, Aleck; I didn't really mean +immoral piety, I only meant--meant--well, conventional piety, +you know; er--shop piety; the--the--why, YOU know what I mean. +Aleck--the--well, where you put up that plated article and play +it for solid, you know, without intending anything improper, +but just out of trade habit, ancient policy, petrified custom, +loyalty to--to--hang it, I can't find the right words, but YOU +know what I mean, Aleck, and that there isn't any harm in it. +I'll try again. You see, it's this way. If a person--" + +"You have said quite enough," said Aleck, coldly; "let the subject +be dropped." + +"I'M willing," fervently responded Sally, wiping the sweat from +his forehead and looking the thankfulness he had no words for. +Then, musingly, he apologized to himself. "I certainly held threes-- +I KNOW it--but I drew and didn't fill. That's where I'm so often +weak in the game. If I had stood pat--but I didn't. I never do. +I don't know enough." + +Confessedly defeated, he was properly tame now and subdued. +Aleck forgave him with her eyes. + +The grand interest, the supreme interest, came instantly to the +front again; nothing could keep it in the background many minutes +on a stretch. The couple took up the puzzle of the absence +of Tilbury's death-notice. They discussed it every which way, +more or less hopefully, but they had to finish where they began, +and concede that the only really sane explanation of the absence +of the notice must be--and without doubt was--that Tilbury was +not dead. There was something sad about it, something even a +little unfair, maybe, but there it was, and had to be put up with. +They were agreed as to that. To Sally it seemed a strangely +inscrutable dispensation; more inscrutable than usual, he thought; +one of the most unnecessary inscrutable he could call to mind, +in fact--and said so, with some feeling; but if he was hoping +to draw Aleck he failed; she reserved her opinion, if she had one; +she had not the habit of taking injudicious risks in any market, +worldly or other. + +The pair must wait for next week's paper--Tilbury had +evidently postponed. That was their thought and their decision. +So they put the subject away and went about their affairs +again with as good heart as they could. + + +Now, if they had but known it, they had been wronging Tilbury +all the time. Tilbury had kept faith, kept it to the letter; +he was dead, he had died to schedule. He was dead more than four +days now and used to it; entirely dead, perfectly dead, as dead +as any other new person in the cemetery; dead in abundant time to get +into that week's SAGAMORE, too, and only shut out by an accident; +an accident which could not happen to a metropolitan journal, +but which happens easily to a poor little village rag like the SAGAMORE. +On this occasion, just as the editorial page was being locked up, +a gratis quart of strawberry ice-water arrived from Hostetter's +Ladies and Gents Ice-Cream Parlors, and the stickful of rather +chilly regret over Tilbury's translation got crowded out to make +room for the editor's frantic gratitude. + +On its way to the standing-galley Tilbury's notice got pied. +Otherwise it would have gone into some future edition, for WEEKLY +SAGAMORES do not waste "live" matter, and in their galleys "live" +matter is immortal, unless a pi accident intervenes. But a thing +that gets pied is dead, and for such there is no resurrection; +its chance of seeing print is gone, forever and ever. And so, +let Tilbury like it or not, let him rave in his grave to his fill, +no matter--no mention of his death would ever see the light in the +WEEKLY SAGAMORE. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Five weeks drifted tediously along. The SAGAMORE arrived regularly on +the Saturdays, but never once contained a mention of Tilbury Foster. +Sally's patience broke down at this point, and he said, resentfully: + +"Damn his livers, he's immortal!" + +Aleck give him a very severe rebuke, and added with icy solemnity: + +"How would you feel if you were suddenly cut out just after such +an awful remark had escaped out of you?" + +Without sufficient reflection Sally responded: + +"I'd feel I was lucky I hadn't got caught with it IN me." + +Pride had forced him to say something, and as he could not think +of any rational thing to say he flung that out. Then he stole a base-- +as he called it--that is, slipped from the presence, to keep from +being brayed in his wife's discussion-mortar. + +Six months came and went. The SAGAMORE was still silent about Tilbury. +Meantime, Sally had several times thrown out a feeler--that is, +a hint that he would like to know. Aleck had ignored the hints. +Sally now resolved to brace up and risk a frontal attack. +So he squarely proposed to disguise himself and go to Tilbury's +village and surreptitiously find out as to the prospects. +Aleck put her foot on the dangerous project with energy and decision. +She said: + +"What can you be thinking of? You do keep my hands full! +You have to be watched all the time, like a little child, to keep +you from walking into the fire. You'll stay right where you are!" + +"Why, Aleck, I could do it and not be found out--I'm certain of it." + +"Sally Foster, don't you know you would have to inquire around?" + +"Of course, but what of it? Nobody would suspect who I was." + +"Oh, listen to the man! Some day you've got to prove to the +executors that you never inquired. What then?" + +He had forgotten that detail. He didn't reply; there wasn't +anything to say. Aleck added: + +"Now then, drop that notion out of your mind, and don't ever meddle +with it again. Tilbury set that trap for you. Don't you know it's +a trap? He is on the watch, and fully expecting you to blunder +into it. Well, he is going to be disappointed--at least while I +am on deck. Sally!" + +"Well?" + +"As long as you live, if it's a hundred years, don't you ever make +an inquiry. Promise!" + +"All right," with a sigh and reluctantly. + +Then Aleck softened and said: + +"Don't be impatient. We are prospering; we can wait; there is +no hurry. Our small dead-certain income increases all the time; +and as to futures, I have not made a mistake yet--they are piling +up by the thousands and tens of thousands. There is not another +family in the state with such prospects as ours. Already we are +beginning to roll in eventual wealth. You know that, don't you?" + +"Yes, Aleck, it's certainly so." + +"Then be grateful for what God is doing for us and stop worrying. +You do not believe we could have achieved these prodigious results +without His special help and guidance, do you?" + +Hesitatingly, "N-no, I suppose not." Then, with feeling +and admiration, "And yet, when it comes to judiciousness +in watering a stock or putting up a hand to skin Wall Street +I don't give in that YOU need any outside amateur help, if I do wish I--" + +"Oh, DO shut up! I know you do not mean any harm or any irreverence, +poor boy, but you can't seem to open your mouth without letting out +things to make a person shudder. You keep me in constant dread. +For you and for all of us. Once I had no fear of the thunder, +but now when I hear it I--" + +Her voice broke, and she began to cry, and could not finish. +The sight of this smote Sally to the heart and he took her in his +arms and petted her and comforted her and promised better conduct, +and upbraided himself and remorsefully pleaded for forgiveness. +And he was in earnest, and sorry for what he had done and ready for any +sacrifice that could make up for it. + +And so, in privacy, he thought long and deeply over the matter, +resolving to do what should seem best. It was easy to PROMISE reform; +indeed he had already promised it. But would that do any real good, +any permanent good? No, it would be but temporary--he knew +his weakness, and confessed it to himself with sorrow--he could +not keep the promise. Something surer and better must be devised; +and he devised it. At cost of precious money which he had long +been saving up, shilling by shilling, he put a lightning-rod on +the house. + +At a subsequent time he relapsed. + +What miracles habit can do! and how quickly and how easily habits +are acquired--both trifling habits and habits which profoundly change us. +If by accident we wake at two in the morning a couple of nights +in succession, we have need to be uneasy, for another repetition can +turn the accident into a habit; and a month's dallying with whiskey-- +but we all know these commonplace facts. + +The castle-building habit, the day-dreaming habit--how it grows! +what a luxury it becomes; how we fly to its enchantments at every +idle moment, how we revel in them, steep our souls in them, +intoxicate ourselves with their beguiling fantasies--oh yes, +and how soon and how easily our dream life and our material life +become so intermingled and so fused together that we can't quite +tell which is which, any more. + +By and by Aleck subscribed to a Chicago daily and for the WALL +STREET POINTER. With an eye single to finance she studied these +as diligently all the week as she studied her Bible Sundays. +Sally was lost in admiration, to note with what swift and sure strides +her genius and judgment developed and expanded in the forecasting and +handling of the securities of both the material and spiritual markets. +He was proud of her nerve and daring in exploiting worldly stocks, +and just as proud of her conservative caution in working her +spiritual deals. He noted that she never lost her head in either case; +that with a splendid courage she often went short on worldly futures, +but heedfully drew the line there--she was always long on the others. +Her policy was quite sane and simple, as she explained it to him: +what she put into earthly futures was for speculation, what she put +into spiritual futures was for investment; she was willing to go into +the one on a margin, and take chances, but in the case of the other, +"margin her no margins"--she wanted to cash in a hundred cents per +dollar's worth, and have the stock transferred on the books. + +It took but a very few months to educate Aleck's imagination +and Sally's. Each day's training added something to the spread +and effectiveness of the two machines. As a consequence, Aleck made +imaginary money much faster than at first she had dreamed of making it, +and Sally's competency in spending the overflow of it kept pace with +the strain put upon it, right along. In the beginning, Aleck had +given the coal speculation a twelvemonth in which to materialize, +and had been loath to grant that this term might possibly be shortened +by nine months. But that was the feeble work, the nursery work, +of a financial fancy that had had no teaching, no experience, +no practice. These aids soon came, then that nine months vanished, +and the imaginary ten-thousand-dollar investment came marching +home with three hundred per cent. profit on its back! + +It was a great day for the pair of Fosters. They were speechless +for joy. Also speechless for another reason: after much watching +of the market, Aleck had lately, with fear and trembling, made her +first flyer on a "margin," using the remaining twenty thousand of +the bequest in this risk. In her mind's eye she had seen it climb, +point by point--always with a chance that the market would break-- +until at last her anxieties were too great for further endurance-- +she being new to the margin business and unhardened, as yet--and she +gave her imaginary broker an imaginary order by imaginary telegraph +to sell. She said forty thousand dollars' profit was enough. +The sale was made on the very day that the coal venture had returned +with its rich freight. As I have said, the couple were speechless. +they sat dazed and blissful that night, trying to realize that they were +actually worth a hundred thousand dollars in clean, imaginary cash. +Yet so it was. + +It was the last time that ever Aleck was afraid of a margin; +at least afraid enough to let it break her sleep and pale her cheek +to the extent that this first experience in that line had done. + +Indeed it was a memorable night. Gradually the realization that they +were rich sank securely home into the souls of the pair, then they +began to place the money. If we could have looked out through +the eyes of these dreamers, we should have seen their tidy little +wooden house disappear, and two-story brick with a cast-iron fence +in front of it take its place; we should have seen a three-globed +gas-chandelier grow down from the parlor ceiling; we should have seen +the homely rag carpet turn to noble Brussels, a dollar and a half +a yard; we should have seen the plebeian fireplace vanish away and +a recherch'e, big base-burner with isinglass windows take position +and spread awe around. And we should have seen other things, +too; among them the buggy, the lap-robe, the stove-pipe hat, and so on. + +From that time forth, although the daughters and the neighbors +saw only the same old wooden house there, it was a two-story +brick to Aleck and Sally and not a night went by that Aleck did +not worry about the imaginary gas-bills, and get for all comfort +Sally's reckless retort: "What of it? We can afford it." + +Before the couple went to bed, that first night that they were rich, +they had decided that they must celebrate. They must give a party-- +that was the idea. But how to explain it--to the daughters and +the neighbors? They could not expose the fact that they were rich. +Sally was willing, even anxious, to do it; but Aleck kept her head +and would not allow it. She said that although the money was as +good as in, it would be as well to wait until it was actually in. +On that policy she took her stand, and would not budge. +The great secret must be kept, she said--kept from the daughters and +everybody else. + +The pair were puzzled. They must celebrate, they were determined +to celebrate, but since the secret must be kept, what could +they celebrate? No birthdays were due for three months. +Tilbury wasn't available, evidently he was going to live forever; +what the nation COULD they celebrate? That was Sally's way +of putting it; and he was getting impatient, too, and harassed. +But at last he hit it--just by sheer inspiration, as it seemed to him-- +and all their troubles were gone in a moment; they would celebrate +the Discovery of America. A splendid idea! + +Aleck was almost too proud of Sally for words--she said SHE never would +have thought of it. But Sally, although he was bursting with delight +in the compliment and with wonder at himself, tried not to let on, +and said it wasn't really anything, anybody could have done it. +Whereat Aleck, with a prideful toss of her happy head, said: + +"Oh, certainly! Anybody could--oh, anybody! Hosannah Dilkins, +for instance! Or maybe Adelbert Peanut--oh, DEAR--yes! Well, I'd like +to see them try it, that's all. Dear-me-suz, if they could think +of the discovery of a forty-acre island it's more than _I_ believe +they could; and as for the whole continent, why, Sally Foster, +you know perfectly well it would strain the livers and lights +out of them and THEN they couldn't!" + +The dear woman, she knew he had talent; and if affection made +her over-estimate the size of it a little, surely it was a sweet +and gentle crime, and forgivable for its source's sake. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The celebration went off well. The friends were all present, +both the young and the old. Among the young were Flossie and +Gracie Peanut and their brother Adelbert, who was a rising young +journeyman tinner, also Hosannah Dilkins, Jr., journeyman plasterer, +just out of his apprenticeship. For many months Adelbert and Hosannah +had been showing interest in Gwendolen and Clytemnestra Foster, +and the parents of the girls had noticed this with private satisfaction. +But they suddenly realized now that that feeling had passed. +They recognized that the changed financial conditions had raised +up a social bar between their daughters and the young mechanics. +The daughters could now look higher--and must. Yes, must. They need +marry nothing below the grade of lawyer or merchant; poppa and momma +would take care of this; there must be no m'esalliances. + +However, these thinkings and projects of their were private, +and did not show on the surface, and therefore threw no shadow +upon the celebration. What showed upon the surface was a serene +and lofty contentment and a dignity of carriage and gravity of +deportment which compelled the admiration and likewise the wonder +of the company. All noticed it and all commented upon it, but none +was able to divine the secret of it. It was a marvel and a mystery. +Three several persons remarked, without suspecting what clever +shots they were making: + +"It's as if they'd come into property." + +That was just it, indeed. + +Most mothers would have taken hold of the matrimonial matter in the +old regulation way; they would have given the girls a talking to, +of a solemn sort and untactful--a lecture calculated to defeat its +own purpose, by producing tears and secret rebellion; and the said +mothers would have further damaged the business by requesting +the young mechanics to discontinue their attentions. But this +mother was different. She was practical. She said nothing to any +of the young people concerned, nor to any one else except Sally. +He listened to her and understood; understood and admired. +He said: + +"I get the idea. Instead of finding fault with the samples on view, +thus hurting feelings and obstructing trade without occasion, +you merely offer a higher class of goods for the money, and leave +nature to take her course. It's wisdom, Aleck, solid wisdom, +and sound as a nut. Who's your fish? Have you nominated him yet?" + +No, she hadn't. They must look the market over--which they did. +To start with, they considered and discussed Brandish, rising young +lawyer, and Fulton, rising young dentist. Sally must invite them +to dinner. But not right away; there was no hurry, Aleck said. +Keep an eye on the pair, and wait; nothing would be lost by going +slowly in so important a matter. + +It turned out that this was wisdom, too; for inside of three +weeks Aleck made a wonderful strike which swelled her imaginary +hundred thousand to four hundred thousand of the same quality. +She and Sally were in the clouds that evening. For the first +time they introduced champagne at dinner. Not real champagne, +but plenty real enough for the amount of imagination expended on it. +It was Sally that did it, and Aleck weakly submitted. At bottom both +were troubled and ashamed, for he was a high-up Son of Temperance, +and at funerals wore an apron which no dog could look upon and retain +his reason and his opinion; and she was a W. C. T. U., with all that +that implies of boiler-iron virtue and unendurable holiness. But there +is was; the pride of riches was beginning its disintegrating work. +They had lived to prove, once more, a sad truth which had been proven +many times before in the world: that whereas principle is a great +and noble protection against showy and degrading vanities and vices, +poverty is worth six of it. More than four hundred thousand +dollars to the good. They took up the matrimonial matter again. +Neither the dentist nor the lawyer was mentioned; there was no occasion, +they were out of the running. Disqualified. They discussed the son +of the pork-packer and the son of the village banker. But finally, +as in the previous case, they concluded to wait and think, and go +cautiously and sure. + +Luck came their way again. Aleck, ever watchful saw a great +and risky chance, and took a daring flyer. A time of trembling, +of doubt, of awful uneasiness followed, for non-success meant absolute +ruin and nothing short of it. Then came the result, and Aleck, +faint with joy, could hardly control her voice when she said: + +"The suspense is over, Sally--and we are worth a cold million!" + +Sally wept for gratitude, and said: + +"Oh, Electra, jewel of women, darling of my heart, we are free +at last, we roll in wealth, we need never scrimp again. it's a +case for Veuve Cliquot!" and he got out a pint of spruce-beer +and made sacrifice, he saying "Damn the expense," and she rebuking +him gently with reproachful but humid and happy eyes. + +They shelved the pork-packer's son and the banker's son, and sat +down to consider the Governor's son and the son of the Congressman. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It were a weariness to follow in detail the leaps and bounds the Foster +fictitious finances took from this time forth. It was marvelous, +it was dizzying, it was dazzling. Everything Aleck touched turned +to fairy gold, and heaped itself glittering toward the firmament. +Millions upon millions poured in, and still the mighty stream flowed +thundering along, still its vast volume increased. Five millions-- +ten millions--twenty--thirty--was there never to be an end? + +Two years swept by in a splendid delirium, the intoxicated Fosters +scarcely noticing the flight of time. They were now worth three hundred +million dollars; they were in every board of directors of every +prodigious combine in the country; and still as time drifted along, +the millions went on piling up, five at a time, ten at a time, +as fast as they could tally them off, almost. The three hundred +double itself--then doubled again--and yet again--and yet once more. + +Twenty-four hundred millions! + +The business was getting a little confused. It was necessary +to take an account of stock, and straighten it out. The Fosters +knew it, they felt it, they realized that it was imperative; +but they also knew that to do it properly and perfectly the task +must be carried to a finish without a break when once it was begun. +A ten-hours' job; and where could THEY find ten leisure hours +in a bunch? Sally was selling pins and sugar and calico all day +and every day; Aleck was cooking and washing dishes and sweeping +and making beds all day and every day, with none to help, +for the daughters were being saved up for high society. The Fosters +knew there was one way to get the ten hours, and only one. +Both were ashamed to name it; each waited for the other to do it. +Finally Sally said: + +"Somebody's got to give in. It's up to me. Consider that I've +named it--never mind pronouncing it out aloud." + +Aleck colored, but was grateful. Without further remark, they fell. +Fell, and--broke the Sabbath. For that was their only free +ten-hour stretch. It was but another step in the downward path. +Others would follow. Vast wealth has temptations which fatally +and surely undermine the moral structure of persons not habituated +to its possession. + +They pulled down the shades and broke the Sabbath. With hard +and patient labor they overhauled their holdings and listed them. +And a long-drawn procession of formidable names it was! +Starting with the Railway Systems, Steamer Lines, Standard Oil, +Ocean Cables, Diluted Telegraph, and all the rest, and winding +up with Klondike, De Beers, Tammany Graft, and Shady Privileges +in the Post-office Department. + +Twenty-four hundred millions, and all safely planted in Good Things, +gilt-edged and interest-bearing. Income, $120,000,000 a year. +Aleck fetched a long purr of soft delight, and said: + +"Is it enough?" + +"It is, Aleck." + +"What shall we do?" + +"Stand pat." + +"Retire from business?" + +"That's it." + +"I am agreed. The good work is finished; we will take a long rest +and enjoy the money." + +"Good! Aleck!" + +"Yes, dear?" + +"How much of the income can we spend?" + +"The whole of it." + +It seemed to her husband that a ton of chains fell from his limbs. +He did not say a word; he was happy beyond the power of speech. + +After that, they broke the Sabbaths right along as fast as they +turned up. It is the first wrong step that counts. Every Sunday +they put in the whole day, after morning service, on inventions-- +inventions of ways to spend the money. They got to continuing this +delicious dissipation until past midnight; and at every s'eance Aleck +lavished millions upon great charities and religious enterprises, +and Sally lavished like sums upon matters to which (at first) +he gave definite names. Only at first. Later the names gradually +lost sharpness of outline, and eventually faded into "sundries," +thus becoming entirely--but safely--undescriptive. For Sally +was crumbling. The placing of these millions added seriously +and most uncomfortably to the family expenses--in tallow candles. +For a while Aleck was worried. Then, after a little, she ceased +to worry, for the occasion of it was gone. She was pained, +she was grieved, she was ashamed; but she said nothing, and so became +an accessory. Sally was taking candles; he was robbing the store. +It is ever thus. Vast wealth, to the person unaccustomed to it, +is a bane; it eats into the flesh and bone of his morals. +When the Fosters were poor, they could have been trusted with +untold candles. But now they--but let us not dwell upon it. +From candles to apples is but a step: Sally got to taking apples; +then soap; then maple-sugar; then canned goods; then crockery. +How easy it is to go from bad to worse, when once we have started upon a +downward course! + +Meantime, other effects had been milestoning the course of the Fosters' +splendid financial march. The fictitious brick dwelling had +given place to an imaginary granite one with a checker-board +mansard roof; in time this one disappeared and gave place to a +still grander home--and so on and so on. Mansion after mansion, +made of air, rose, higher, broader, finer, and each in its turn +vanished away; until now in these latter great days, our dreamers +were in fancy housed, in a distant region, in a sumptuous vast +palace which looked out from a leafy summit upon a noble prospect +of vale and river and receding hills steeped in tinted mists-- +and all private, all the property of the dreamers; a palace swarming +with liveried servants, and populous with guests of fame and power, +hailing from all the world's capitals, foreign and domestic. + +This palace was far, far away toward the rising sun, immeasurably remote, +astronomically remote, in Newport, Rhode Island, Holy Land +of High Society, ineffable Domain of the American Aristocracy. +As a rule they spent a part of every Sabbath--after morning service-- +in this sumptuous home, the rest of it they spent in Europe, +or in dawdling around in their private yacht. Six days of sordid +and plodding fact life at home on the ragged edge of Lakeside +and straitened means, the seventh in Fairlyand--such had been +their program and their habit. + +In their sternly restricted fact life they remained as of old-- +plodding, diligent, careful, practical, economical. They stuck +loyally to the little Presbyterian Church, and labored faithfully +in its interests and stood by its high and tough doctrines with all +their mental and spiritual energies. But in their dream life they +obeyed the invitations of their fancies, whatever they might be, +and howsoever the fancies might change. Aleck's fancies were not +very capricious, and not frequent, but Sally's scattered a good deal. +Aleck, in her dream life, went over to the Episcopal camp, on account +of its large official titles; next she became High-church on account +of the candles and shows; and next she naturally changed to Rome, +where there were cardinals and more candles. But these excursions +were a nothing to Sally's. His dream life was a glowing and continuous +and persistent excitement, and he kept every part of it fresh and +sparkling by frequent changes, the religious part along with the rest. +He worked his religions hard, and changed them with his shirt. + +The liberal spendings of the Fosters upon their fancies began +early in their prosperities, and grew in prodigality step by step +with their advancing fortunes. In time they became truly enormous. +Aleck built a university or two per Sunday; also a hospital or two; +also a Rowton hotel or so; also a batch of churches; now and then +a cathedral; and once, with untimely and ill-chosen playfulness, +Sally said, "It was a cold day when she didn't ship a cargo of +missionaries to persuade unreflecting Chinamen to trade off twenty-four +carat Confucianism for counterfeit Christianity." + +This rude and unfeeling language hurt Aleck to the heart, and she +went from the presence crying. That spectacle went to his own heart, +and in his pain and shame he would have given worlds to have +those unkind words back. She had uttered no syllable of reproach-- +and that cut him. Not one suggestion that he look at his own record-- +and she could have made, oh, so many, and such blistering ones! +Her generous silence brought a swift revenge, for it turned his +thoughts upon himself, it summoned before him a spectral procession, +a moving vision of his life as he had been leading it these past +few years of limitless prosperity, and as he sat there reviewing +it his cheeks burned and his soul was steeped in humiliation. +Look at her life--how fair it was, and tending ever upward; and look +at his own--how frivolous, how charged with mean vanities, how selfish, +how empty, how ignoble! And its trend--never upward, but downward, +ever downward! + +He instituted comparisons between her record and his own. He had found +fault with her--so he mused--HE! And what could he say for himself? +When she built her first church what was he doing? Gathering other +blas'e multimillionaires into a Poker Club; defiling his own palace +with it; losing hundreds of thousands to it at every sitting, +and sillily vain of the admiring notoriety it made for him. +When she was building her first university, what was he doing? +Polluting himself with a gay and dissipated secret life in the +company of other fast bloods, multimillionaires in money and paupers +in character. When she was building her first foundling asylum, +what was he doing? Alas! When she was projecting her noble Society +for the Purifying of the Sex, what was he doing? Ah, what, indeed! +When she and the W. C. T. U. and the Woman with the Hatchet, +moving with resistless march, were sweeping the fatal bottle from +the land, what was he doing? Getting drunk three times a day. +When she, builder of a hundred cathedrals, was being gratefully +welcomed and blest in papal Rome and decorated with the Golden Rose +which she had so honorably earned, what was he doing? Breaking the +bank at Monte Carlo. + +He stopped. He could go no farther; he could not bear the rest. +He rose up, with a great resolution upon his lips: this secret +life should be revealing, and confessed; no longer would he live +it clandestinely, he would go and tell her All. + +And that is what he did. He told her All; and wept upon +her bosom; wept, and moaned, and begged for her forgiveness. +It was a profound shock, and she staggered under the blow, but he +was her own, the core of her heart, the blessing of her eyes, +her all in all, she could deny him nothing, and she forgave him. +She felt that he could never again be quite to her what he had +been before; she knew that he could only repent, and not reform; +yet all morally defaced and decayed as he was, was he not her own, +her very own, the idol of her deathless worship? She said she +was his serf, his slave, and she opened her yearning heart and took +him in. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +One Sunday afternoon some time after this they were sailing the +summer seas in their dream yacht, and reclining in lazy luxury under +the awning of the after-deck. There was silence, for each was busy +with his own thoughts. These seasons of silence had insensibly +been growing more and more frequent of late; the old nearness and +cordiality were waning. Sally's terrible revelation had done its work; +Aleck had tried hard to drive the memory of it out of her mind, +but it would not go, and the shame and bitterness of it were +poisoning her gracious dream life. She could see now (on Sundays) +that her husband was becoming a bloated and repulsive Thing. +She could not close her eyes to this, and in these days she +no longer looked at him, Sundays, when she could help it. + +But she--was she herself without blemish? Alas, she knew she was not. +She was keeping a secret from him, she was acting dishonorably +toward him, and many a pang it was costing her. SHE WAS BREAKING +THE COMPACT, AND CONCEALING IT FROM HIM. Under strong temptation +she had gone into business again; she had risked their whole +fortune in a purchase of all the railway systems and coal and steel +companies in the country on a margin, and she was now trembling, +every Sabbath hour, lest through some chance word of hers he find +it out. In her misery and remorse for this treachery she could +not keep her heart from going out to him in pity; she was filled +with compunctions to see him lying there, drunk and contented, +and ever suspecting. Never suspecting--trusting her with a perfect +and pathetic trust, and she holding over him by a thread a possible +calamity of so devastating a-- + +"SAY--Aleck?" + +The interrupting words brought her suddenly to herself. She was +grateful to have that persecuting subject from her thoughts, +and she answered, with much of the old-time tenderness in her tone: + +"Yes, dear." + +"Do you know, Aleck, I think we are making a mistake--that is, +you are. I mean about the marriage business." He sat up, fat and +froggy and benevolent, like a bronze Buddha, and grew earnest. +"Consider--it's more than five years. You've continued the same +policy from the start: with every rise, always holding on for five +points higher. Always when I think we are going to have some weddings, +you see a bigger thing ahead, and I undergo another disappointment. +_I_ think you are too hard to please. Some day we'll get left. +First, we turned down the dentist and the lawyer. That was all right-- +it was sound. Next, we turned down the banker's son and the +pork-butcher's heir--right again, and sound. Next, we turned +down the Congressman's son and the Governor's--right as a trivet, +I confess it. Next the Senator's son and the son of the Vice-President +of the United States--perfectly right, there's no permanency about +those little distinctions. Then you went for the aristocracy; +and I thought we had struck oil at last--yes. We would make +a plunge at the Four Hundred, and pull in some ancient lineage, +venerable, holy, ineffable, mellow with the antiquity of a hundred +and fifty years, disinfected of the ancestral odors of salt-cod +and pelts all of a century ago, and unsmirched by a day's work since, +and then! why, then the marriages, of course. But no, along comes +a pair a real aristocrats from Europe, and straightway you throw over +the half-breeds. It was awfully discouraging, Aleck! Since then, +what a procession! You turned down the baronets for a pair +of barons; you turned down the barons for a pair of viscounts; +the viscounts for a pair of earls; the earls for a pair of marquises; +the marquises for a brace of dukes. NOW, Aleck, cash in!-- +you've played the limit. You've got a job lot of four dukes +under the hammer; of four nationalities; all sound in the wind +and limb and pedigree, all bankrupt and in debt up to the ears. +They come high, but we can afford it. Come, Aleck, don't delay +any longer, don't keep up the suspense: take the whole lay-out, +and leave the girls to choose!" + +Aleck had been smiling blandly and contentedly all through this +arraignment of her marriage policy, a pleasant light, as of triumph +with perhaps a nice surprise peeping out through it, rose in her eyes, +and she said, as calmly as she could: + +"Sally, what would you say to--ROYALTY?" + +Prodigious! Poor man, it knocked him silly, and he fell over the +garboard-strake and barked his shin on the cat-heads. He was dizzy +for a moment, then he gathered himself up and limped over and sat +down by his wife and beamed his old-time admiration and affection +upon her in floods, out of his bleary eyes. + +"By George!" he said, fervently, "Aleck, you ARE great--the greatest +woman in the whole earth! I can't ever learn the whole size of you. +I can't ever learn the immeasurable deeps of you. Here I've been +considering myself qualified to criticize your game. _I!_ Why, +if I had stopped to think, I'd have known you had a lone hand up +your sleeve. Now, dear heart, I'm all red-hot impatience--tell me +about it!" + +The flattered and happy woman put her lips to his ear and whispered +a princely name. It made him catch his breath, it lit his face +with exultation. + +"Land!" he said, "it's a stunning catch! He's got a gambling-hall, +and a graveyard, and a bishop, and a cathedral--all his very own. +And all gilt-edged five-hundred-per-cent. stock, every detail of it; +the tidiest little property in Europe. and that graveyard-- +it's the selectest in the world: none but suicides admitted; +YES, sir, and the free-list suspended, too, ALL the time. +There isn't much land in the principality, but there's enough: +eight hundred acres in the graveyard and forty-two outside. +It's a SOVEREIGNTY--that's the main thing; LAND'S nothing. +There's plenty land, Sahara's drugged with it." + +Aleck glowed; she was profoundly happy. She said: + +"Think of it, Sally--it is a family that has never married outside +the Royal and Imperial Houses of Europe: our grandchildren will +sit upon thrones!" + +"True as you live, Aleck--and bear scepters, too; and handle +them as naturally and nonchantly as I handle a yardstick. +it's a grand catch, Aleck. He's corralled, is he? Can't get away? +You didn't take him on a margin?" + +"No. Trust me for that. He's not a liability, he's an asset. +So is the other one." + +"Who is it, Aleck?" + +"His Royal Highness +Sigismund-Siegfriend-Lauenfeld-Dinkelspiel-Schwartzenberg +Blutwurst, Hereditary Grant Duke of Katzenyammer." + +"No! You can't mean it!" + +"It's as true as I'm sitting here, I give you my word," she answered. + +His cup was full, and he hugged her to his heart with rapture, saying: + +"How wonderful it all seems, and how beautiful! It's one of the +oldest and noblest of the three hundred and sixty-four ancient +German principalities, and one of the few that was allowed to +retain its royal estate when Bismarck got done trimming them. +I know that farm, I've been there. It's got a rope-walk and a +candle-factory and an army. Standing army. Infantry and cavalry. +Three soldier and a horse. Aleck, it's been a long wait, and full +of heartbreak and hope deferred, but God knows I am happy now. +Happy, and grateful to you, my own, who have done it all. +When is it to be?" + +"Next Sunday." + +"Good. And we'll want to do these weddings up in the very regalest +style that's going. It's properly due to the royal quality of the +parties of the first part. Now as I understand it, there is only one +kind of marriage that is sacred to royalty, exclusive to royalty: +it's the morganatic." + +"What do they call it that for, Sally?" + +"I don't know; but anyway it's royal, and royal only." + +"Then we will insist upon it. More--I will compel it. +It is morganatic marriage or none." + +"That settles it!" said Sally, rubbing his hands with delight. +"And it will be the very first in America. Aleck, it will make +Newport sick." + +Then they fell silent, and drifted away upon their dream wings +to the far regions of the earth to invite all the crowned heads +and their families and provide gratis transportation to them. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +During three days the couple walked upon air, with their heads in +the clouds. They were but vaguely conscious of their surroundings; +they saw all things dimly, as through a veil; they were steeped +in dreams, often they did not hear when they were spoken to; +they often did not understand when they heard; they answered confusedly +or at random; Sally sold molasses by weight, sugar by the yard, +and furnished soap when asked for candles, and Aleck put the cat +in the wash and fed milk to the soiled linen. Everybody was stunned +and amazed, and went about muttering, "What CAN be the matter +with the Fosters?" + +Three days. Then came events! Things had taken a happy turn, +and for forty-eight hours Aleck's imaginary corner had been booming. +Up--up--still up! Cost point was passed. Still up--and up-- +and up! Cost point was passed. STill up--and up--and up! +Five points above cost--then ten--fifteen--twenty! Twenty points +cold profit on the vast venture, now, and Aleck's imaginary brokers +were shouting frantically by imaginary long-distance, "Sell! sell! +for Heaven's sake SELL!" + +She broke the splendid news to Sally, and he, too, said, +"Sell! sell--oh, don't make a blunder, now, you own the earth!-- +sell, sell!" But she set her iron will and lashed it amidships, +and said she would hold on for five points more if she died for it. + +It was a fatal resolve. The very next day came the historic crash, +the record crash, the devastating crash, when the bottom fell out +of Wall Street, and the whole body of gilt-edged stocks dropped +ninety-five points in five hours, and the multimillionaire was seen +begging his bread in the Bowery. Aleck sternly held her grip +and "put up" as long as she could, but at last there came a call +which she was powerless to meet, and her imaginary brokers sold +her out. Then, and not till then, the man in her was vanished, +and the woman in her resumed sway. She put her arms about her +husband's neck and wept, saying: + +"I am to blame, do not forgive me, I cannot bear it. We are paupers! +Paupers, and I am so miserable. The weddings will never come off; +all that is past; we could not even buy the dentist, now." + +A bitter reproach was on Sally's tongue: "I BEGGED you to sell, +but you--" He did not say it; he had not the heart to add a hurt +to that broken and repentant spirit. A nobler thought came to him +and he said: + +"Bear up, my Aleck, all is not lost! You really never invested +a penny of my uncle's bequest, but only its unmaterialized future; +what we have lost was only the incremented harvest from that future +by your incomparable financial judgment and sagacity. Cheer up, +banish these griefs; we still have the thirty thousand untouched; +and with the experience which you have acquired, think what you will +be able to do with it in a couple years! The marriages are not off, +they are only postponed." + +These are blessed words. Aleck saw how true they were, and their +influence was electric; her tears ceased to flow, and her great spirit +rose to its full stature again. With flashing eye and grateful heart, +and with hand uplifted in pledge and prophecy, she said: + +"Now and here I proclaim--" + +But she was interrupted by a visitor. It was the editor and proprietor +of the SAGAMORE. He had happened into Lakeside to pay a duty-call upon +an obscure grandmother of his who was nearing the end of her pilgrimage, +and with the idea of combining business with grief he had looked up +the Fosters, who had been so absorbed in other things for the past +four years that they neglected to pay up their subscription. +Six dollars due. No visitor could have been more welcome. He would +know all about Uncle Tilbury and what his chances might be getting +to be, cemeterywards. They could, of course, ask no questions, +for that would squelch the bequest, but they could nibble around on +the edge of the subject and hope for results. The scheme did not work. +The obtuse editor did not know he was being nibbled at; but at last, +chance accomplished what art had failed in. In illustration of something +under discussion which required the help of metaphor, the editor said: + +"Land, it's a tough as Tilbury Foster!--as WE say." + +It was sudden, and it made the Fosters jump. The editor noticed, +and said, apologetically: + +"No harm intended, I assure you. It's just a saying; just a joke, +you know--nothing of it. Relation of yours?" + +Sally crowded his burning eagerness down, and answered with all +the indifference he could assume: + +"I--well, not that I know of, but we've heard of him." The editor +was thankful, and resumed his composure. Sally added: "Is he-- +is he--well?" + +"Is he WELL? Why, bless you he's in Sheol these five years!" + +The Fosters were trembling with grief, though it felt like joy. +Sally said, non-committally--and tentatively: + +"Ah, well, such is life, and none can escape--not even the rich +are spared." + +The editor laughed. + +"If you are including Tilbury," said he, "it don't apply. +HE hadn't a cent; the town had to bury him." + +The Fosters sat petrified for two minutes; petrified and cold. +Then, white-faced and weak-voiced, Sally asked: + +"Is it true? Do you KNOW it to be true?" + +"Well, I should say! I was one of the executors. He hadn't +anything to leave but a wheelbarrow, and he left that to me. +It hadn't any wheel, and wasn't any good. Still, it was something, +and so, to square up, I scribbled off a sort of a little obituarial +send-off for him, but it got crowded out." + +The Fosters were not listening--their cup was full, it could +contain no more. They sat with bowed heads, dead to all things +but the ache at their hearts. + +An hour later. Still they sat there, bowed, motionless, silent, +the visitor long ago gone, they unaware. + +Then they stirred, and lifted their heads wearily, and gazed at each +other wistfully, dreamily, dazed; then presently began to twaddle +to each other in a wandering and childish way. At intervals they +lapsed into silences, leaving a sentence unfinished, seemingly either +unaware of it or losing their way. Sometimes, when they woke +out of these silences they had a dim and transient consciousness +that something had happened to their minds; then with a dumb +and yearning solicitude they would softly caress each other's +hands in mutual compassion and support, as if they would say: +"I am near you, I will not forsake you, we will bear it together; +somewhere there is release and forgetfulness, somewhere there +is a grave and peace; be patient, it will not be long." + +They lived yet two years, in mental night, always brooding, +steeped in vague regrets and melancholy dreams, never speaking; +then release came to both on the same day. + +Toward the end the darkness lifted from Sally's ruined mind +for a moment, and he said: + +"Vast wealth, acquired by sudden and unwholesome means, is a snare. +It did us no good, transient were its feverish pleasures; +yet for its sake we threw away our sweet and simple and happy life-- +let others take warning by us." + +He lay silent awhile, with closed eyes; then as the chill of death +crept upward toward his heart, and consciousness was fading from +his brain, he muttered: + +"Money had brought him misery, and he took his revenge upon us, +who had done him no harm. He had his desire: with base and cunning +calculation he left us but thirty thousand, knowing we would try +to increase it, and ruin our life and break our hearts. Without added +expense he could have left us far above desire of increase, far above +the temptation to speculate, and a kinder soul would have done it; +but in him was no generous spirit, no pity, no--" + +*** + + + +A DOG'S TALE + + + +CHAPTER I + + +My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am +a Presbyterian. This is what my mother told me, I do not know +these nice distinctions myself. To me they are only fine large +words meaning nothing. My mother had a fondness for such; +she liked to say them, and see other dogs look surprised and envious, +as wondering how she got so much education. But, indeed, it was not +real education; it was only show: she got the words by listening +in the dining-room and drawing-room when there was company, +and by going with the children to Sunday-school and listening there; +and whenever she heard a large word she said it over to herself +many times, and so was able to keep it until there was a dogmatic +gathering in the neighborhood, then she would get it off, +and surprise and distress them all, from pocket-pup to mastiff, +which rewarded her for all her trouble. If there was a stranger +he was nearly sure to be suspicious, and when he got his breath +again he would ask her what it meant. And she always told him. +He was never expecting this but thought he would catch her; +so when she told him, he was the one that looked ashamed, +whereas he had thought it was going to be she. The others were +always waiting for this, and glad of it and proud of her, for they +knew what was going to happen, because they had had experience. +When she told the meaning of a big word they were all so taken up +with admiration that it never occurred to any dog to doubt if it +was the right one; and that was natural, because, for one thing, +she answered up so promptly that it seemed like a dictionary speaking, +and for another thing, where could they find out whether it was right +or not? for she was the only cultivated dog there was. By and by, +when I was older, she brought home the word Unintellectual, one time, +and worked it pretty hard all the week at different gatherings, +making much unhappiness and despondency; and it was at this time +that I noticed that during that week she was asked for the meaning +at eight different assemblages, and flashed out a fresh definition +every time, which showed me that she had more presence of mind +than culture, though I said nothing, of course. She had one word +which she always kept on hand, and ready, like a life-preserver, +a kind of emergency word to strap on when she was likely to get +washed overboard in a sudden way--that was the word Synonymous. +When she happened to fetch out a long word which had had its day +weeks before and its prepared meanings gone to her dump-pile, +if there was a stranger there of course it knocked him groggy for +a couple of minutes, then he would come to, and by that time she +would be away down wind on another tack, and not expecting anything; +so when he'd hail and ask her to cash in, I (the only dog on +the inside of her game) could see her canvas flicker a moment-- +but only just a moment--then it would belly out taut and full, +and she would say, as calm as a summer's day, "It's synonymous +with supererogation," or some godless long reptile of a word +like that, and go placidly about and skim away on the next tack, +perfectly comfortable, you know, and leave that stranger looking +profane and embarrassed, and the initiated slatting the floor +with their tails in unison and their faces transfigured with a +holy joy. + +And it was the same with phrases. She would drag home a whole phrase, +if it had a grand sound, and play it six nights and two matinees, +and explain it a new way every time--which she had to, for all she +cared for was the phrase; she wasn't interested in what it meant, +and knew those dogs hadn't wit enough to catch her, anyway. +Yes, she was a daisy! She got so she wasn't afraid of anything, +she had such confidence in the ignorance of those creatures. +She even brought anecdotes that she had heard the family and the +dinner-guests laugh and shout over; and as a rule she got the nub +of one chestnut hitched onto another chestnut, where, of course, +it didn't fit and hadn't any point; and when she delivered the nub +she fell over and rolled on the floor and laughed and barked +in the most insane way, while I could see that she was wondering +to herself why it didn't seem as funny as it did when she first +heard it. But no harm was done; the others rolled and barked too, +privately ashamed of themselves for not seeing the point, and never +suspecting that the fault was not with them and there wasn't any +to see. + +You can see by these things that she was of a rather vain and +frivolous character; still, she had virtues, and enough to make up, +I think. She had a kind heart and gentle ways, and never harbored +resentments for injuries done her, but put them easily out of her +mind and forgot them; and she taught her children her kindly way, +and from her we learned also to be brave and prompt in time of danger, +and not to run away, but face the peril that threatened friend +or stranger, and help him the best we could without stopping to think +what the cost might be to us. And she taught us not by words only, +but by example, and that is the best way and the surest and the +most lasting. Why, the brave things she did, the splendid things! she +was just a soldier; and so modest about it--well, you couldn't help +admiring her, and you couldn't help imitating her; not even a King +Charles spaniel could remain entirely despicable in her society. +So, as you see, there was more to her than her education. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +When I was well grown, at last, I was sold and taken away, +and I never saw her again. She was broken-hearted, and so was I, +and we cried; but she comforted me as well as she could, and said +we were sent into this world for a wise and good purpose, and must +do our duties without repining, take our life as we might find it, +live it for the best good of others, and never mind about the results; +they were not our affair. She said men who did like this would have +a noble and beautiful reward by and by in another world, and although +we animals would not go there, to do well and right without reward +would give to our brief lives a worthiness and dignity which in +itself would be a reward. She had gathered these things from time +to time when she had gone to the Sunday-school with the children, +and had laid them up in her memory more carefully than she had done +with those other words and phrases; and she had studied them deeply, +for her good and ours. One may see by this that she had a wise +and thoughtful head, for all there was so much lightness and vanity +in it. + +So we said our farewells, and looked our last upon each other through +our tears; and the last thing she said--keeping it for the last +to make me remember it the better, I think--was, "In memory of me, +when there is a time of danger to another do not think of yourself, +think of your mother, and do as she would do." + +Do you think I could forget that? No. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +It was such a charming home!--my new one; a fine great house, +with pictures, and delicate decorations, and rich furniture, +and no gloom anywhere, but all the wilderness of dainty colors lit up +with flooding sunshine; and the spacious grounds around it, and the +great garden--oh, greensward, and noble trees, and flowers, no end! +And I was the same as a member of the family; and they loved me, +and petted me, and did not give me a new name, but called me by my +old one that was dear to me because my mother had given it me-- +Aileen Mavoureen. She got it out of a song; and the Grays knew +that song, and said it was a beautiful name. + +Mrs. Gray was thirty, and so sweet and so lovely, you cannot +imagine it; and Sadie was ten, and just like her mother, just a +darling slender little copy of her, with auburn tails down her back, +and short frocks; and the baby was a year old, and plump and dimpled, +and fond of me, and never could get enough of hauling on my tail, +and hugging me, and laughing out its innocent happiness; and Mr. Gray +was thirty-eight, and tall and slender and handsome, a little bald +in front, alert, quick in his movements, business-like, prompt, +decided, unsentimental, and with that kind of trim-chiseled face +that just seems to glint and sparkle with frosty intellectuality! +He was a renowned scientist. I do not know what the word means, +but my mother would know how to use it and get effects. She would +know how to depress a rat-terrier with it and make a lap-dog +look sorry he came. But that is not the best one; the best one +was Laboratory. My mother could organize a Trust on that one that +would skin the tax-collars off the whole herd. The laboratory +was not a book, or a picture, or a place to wash your hands in, +as the college president's dog said--no, that is the lavatory; +the laboratory is quite different, and is filled with jars, +and bottles, and electrics, and wires, and strange machines; +and every week other scientists came there and sat in the place, +and used the machines, and discussed, and made what they called +experiments and discoveries; and often I came, too, and stood +around and listened, and tried to learn, for the sake of my mother, +and in loving memory of her, although it was a pain to me, as realizing +what she was losing out of her life and I gaining nothing at all; +for try as I might, I was never able to make anything out of it +at all. + +Other times I lay on the floor in the mistress's work-room and slept, +she gently using me for a foot-stool, knowing it pleased me, +for it was a caress; other times I spent an hour in the nursery, +and got well tousled and made happy; other times I watched by the +crib there, when the baby was asleep and the nurse out for a few +minutes on the baby's affairs; other times I romped and raced +through the grounds and the garden with Sadie till we were tired out, +then slumbered on the grass in the shade of a tree while she read +her book; other times I went visiting among the neighbor dogs-- +for there were some most pleasant ones not far away, and one very +handsome and courteous and graceful one, a curly-haired Irish +setter by the name of Robin Adair, who was a Presbyterian like me, +and belonged to the Scotch minister. + +The servants in our house were all kind to me and were fond of me, +and so, as you see, mine was a pleasant life. There could not be +a happier dog that I was, nor a gratefuler one. I will say this +for myself, for it is only the truth: I tried in all ways to do +well and right, and honor my mother's memory and her teachings, +and earn the happiness that had come to me, as best I could. + +By and by came my little puppy, and then my cup was full, my happiness +was perfect. It was the dearest little waddling thing, and so smooth +and soft and velvety, and had such cunning little awkward paws, +and such affectionate eyes, and such a sweet and innocent face; +and it made me so proud to see how the children and their mother +adored it, and fondled it, and exclaimed over every little wonderful +thing it did. It did seem to me that life was just too lovely to-- + +Then came the winter. One day I was standing a watch in the nursery. +That is to say, I was asleep on the bed. The baby was asleep in +the crib, which was alongside the bed, on the side next the fireplace. +It was the kind of crib that has a lofty tent over it made of gauzy +stuff that you can see through. The nurse was out, and we two +sleepers were alone. A spark from the wood-fire was shot out, and it +lit on the slope of the tent. I suppose a quiet interval followed, +then a scream from the baby awoke me, and there was that tent +flaming up toward the ceiling! Before I could think, I sprang +to the floor in my fright, and in a second was half-way to the door; +but in the next half-second my mother's farewell was sounding +in my ears, and I was back on the bed again., I reached my head +through the flames and dragged the baby out by the waist-band, +and tugged it along, and we fell to the floor together in a cloud +of smoke; I snatched a new hold, and dragged the screaming little +creature along and out at the door and around the bend of the hall, +and was still tugging away, all excited and happy and proud, +when the master's voice shouted: + +"Begone you cursed beast!" and I jumped to save myself; but he +was furiously quick, and chased me up, striking furiously at me +with his cane, I dodging this way and that, in terror, and at last a +strong blow fell upon my left foreleg, which made me shriek and fall, +for the moment, helpless; the cane went up for another blow, +but never descended, for the nurse's voice rang wildly out, +"The nursery's on fire!" and the master rushed away in that direction, +and my other bones were saved. + +The pain was cruel, but, no matter, I must not lose any time; +he might come back at any moment; so I limped on three legs to the +other end of the hall, where there was a dark little stairway leading +up into a garret where old boxes and such things were kept, as I had +heard say, and where people seldom went. I managed to climb up there, +then I searched my way through the dark among the piles of things, +and hid in the secretest place I could find. It was foolish to be +afraid there, yet still I was; so afraid that I held in and hardly +even whimpered, though it would have been such a comfort to whimper, +because that eases the pain, you know. But I could lick my leg, +and that did some good. + +For half an hour there was a commotion downstairs, and shoutings, +and rushing footsteps, and then there was quiet again. Quiet for +some minutes, and that was grateful to my spirit, for then my fears +began to go down; and fears are worse than pains--oh, much worse. +Then came a sound that froze me. They were calling me--calling me +by name--hunting for me! + +It was muffled by distance, but that could not take the terror out of it, +and it was the most dreadful sound to me that I had ever heard. +It went all about, everywhere, down there: along the halls, through all +the rooms, in both stories, and in the basement and the cellar; +then outside, and farther and farther away--then back, and all +about the house again, and I thought it would never, never stop. +But at last it did, hours and hours after the vague twilight of +the garret had long ago been blotted out by black darkness. + +Then in that blessed stillness my terrors fell little by little away, +and I was at peace and slept. It was a good rest I had, but I woke +before the twilight had come again. I was feeling fairly comfortable, +and I could think out a plan now. I made a very good one; +which was, to creep down, all the way down the back stairs, +and hide behind the cellar door, and slip out and escape when the +iceman came at dawn, while he was inside filling the refrigerator; +then I would hide all day, and start on my journey when night came; +my journey to--well, anywhere where they would not know me and betray +me to the master. I was feeling almost cheerful now; then suddenly +I thought: Why, what would life be without my puppy! + +That was despair. There was no plan for me; I saw that; +I must say where I was; stay, and wait, and take what might come-- +it was not my affair; that was what life is--my mother had said it. +Then--well, then the calling began again! All my sorrows came back. +I said to myself, the master will never forgive. I did not know +what I had done to make him so bitter and so unforgiving, yet I +judged it was something a dog could not understand, but which was +clear to a man and dreadful. + +They called and called--days and nights, it seemed to me. +So long that the hunger and thirst near drove me mad, and I +recognized that I was getting very weak. When you are this way you +sleep a great deal, and I did. Once I woke in an awful fright-- +it seemed to me that the calling was right there in the garret! +And so it was: it was Sadie's voice, and she was crying; my name +was falling from her lips all broken, poor thing, and I could not +believe my ears for the joy of it when I heard her say: + +"Come back to us--oh, come back to us, and forgive--it is all so sad +without our--" + +I broke in with SUCH a grateful little yelp, and the next moment +Sadie was plunging and stumbling through the darkness and the lumber +and shouting for the family to hear, "She's found, she's found!" + + +The days that followed--well, they were wonderful. The mother +and Sadie and the servants--why, they just seemed to worship me. +They couldn't seem to make me a bed that was fine enough; +and as for food, they couldn't be satisfied with anything but game +and delicacies that were out of season; and every day the friends +and neighbors flocked in to hear about my heroism--that was the +name they called it by, and it means agriculture. I remember my +mother pulling it on a kennel once, and explaining it in that way, +but didn't say what agriculture was, except that it was synonymous +with intramural incandescence; and a dozen times a day Mrs. Gray +and Sadie would tell the tale to new-comers, and say I risked my life +to say the baby's, and both of us had burns to prove it, and then +the company would pass me around and pet me and exclaim about me, +and you could see the pride in the eyes of Sadie and her mother; +and when the people wanted to know what made me limp, they looked +ashamed and changed the subject, and sometimes when people hunted +them this way and that way with questions about it, it looked to me +as if they were going to cry. + +And this was not all the glory; no, the master's friends came, +a whole twenty of the most distinguished people, and had me in +the laboratory, and discussed me as if I was a kind of discovery; +and some of them said it was wonderful in a dumb beast, the finest +exhibition of instinct they could call to mind; but the master said, +with vehemence, "It's far above instinct; it's REASON, and many a man, +privileged to be saved and go with you and me to a better world +by right of its possession, has less of it that this poor silly +quadruped that's foreordained to perish"; and then he laughed, +and said: "Why, look at me--I'm a sarcasm! bless you, with all +my grand intelligence, the only think I inferred was that the dog +had gone mad and was destroying the child, whereas but for the +beast's intelligence--it's REASON, I tell you!--the child would +have perished!" + +They disputed and disputed, and _I_ was the very center of subject +of it all, and I wished my mother could know that this grand honor +had come to me; it would have made her proud. + +Then they discussed optics, as they called it, and whether a certain +injury to the brain would produce blindness or not, but they could +not agree about it, and said they must test it by experiment by and by; +and next they discussed plants, and that interested me, because in +the summer Sadie and I had planted seeds--I helped her dig the holes, +you know--and after days and days a little shrub or a flower came +up there, and it was a wonder how that could happen; but it did, +and I wished I could talk--I would have told those people about it +and shown then how much I knew, and been all alive with the subject; +but I didn't care for the optics; it was dull, and when they came back +to it again it bored me, and I went to sleep. + +Pretty soon it was spring, and sunny and pleasant and lovely, +and the sweet mother and the children patted me and the puppy +good-by, and went away on a journey and a visit to their kin, +and the master wasn't any company for us, but we played together +and had good times, and the servants were kind and friendly, +so we got along quite happily and counted the days and waited +for the family. + +And one day those men came again, and said, now for the test, +and they took the puppy to the laboratory, and I limped +three-leggedly along, too, feeling proud, for any attention shown +to the puppy was a pleasure to me, of course. They discussed +and experimented, and then suddenly the puppy shrieked, +and they set him on the floor, and he went staggering around, +with his head all bloody, and the master clapped his hands and shouted: + +"There, I've won--confess it! He's a blind as a bat!" + +And they all said: + +"It's so--you've proved your theory, and suffering humanity owes +you a great debt from henceforth," and they crowded around him, +and wrung his hand cordially and thankfully, and praised him. + +But I hardly saw or heard these things, for I ran at once to my +little darling, and snuggled close to it where it lay, and licked +the blood, and it put its head against mine, whimpering softly, +and I knew in my heart it was a comfort to it in its pain and +trouble to feel its mother's touch, though it could not see me. +Then it dropped down, presently, and its little velvet nose rested +upon the floor, and it was still, and did not move any more. + +Soon the master stopped discussing a moment, and rang in the footman, +and said, "Bury it in the far corner of the garden," and then went +on with the discussion, and I trotted after the footman, very happy +and grateful, for I knew the puppy was out of its pain now, because it +was asleep. We went far down the garden to the farthest end, +where the children and the nurse and the puppy and I used to play +in the summer in the shade of a great elm, and there the footman dug +a hole, and I saw he was going to plant the puppy, and I was glad, +because it would grow and come up a fine handsome dog, like Robin Adair, +and be a beautiful surprise for the family when they came home; +so I tried to help him dig, but my lame leg was no good, being stiff, +you know, and you have to have two, or it is no use. When the +footman had finished and covered little Robin up, he patted my head, +and there were tears in his eyes, and he said: "Poor little doggie, +you saved HIS child!" + +I have watched two whole weeks, and he doesn't come up! This last week +a fright has been stealing upon me. I think there is something terrible +about this. I do not know what it is, but the fear makes me sick, +and I cannot eat, though the servants bring me the best of food; +and they pet me so, and even come in the night, and cry, and say, +"Poor doggie--do give it up and come home; DON'T break our hearts!" +and all this terrifies me the more, and makes me sure something +has happened. And I am so weak; since yesterday I cannot stand on my +feet anymore. And within this hour the servants, looking toward the +sun where it was sinking out of sight and the night chill coming on, +said things I could not understand, but they carried something cold +to my heart. + +"Those poor creatures! They do not suspect. They will come home +in the morning, and eagerly ask for the little doggie that did +the brave deed, and who of us will be strong enough to say the truth +to them: 'The humble little friend is gone where go the beasts +that perish.'" + + +*** + + + + +WAS IT HEAVEN? OR HELL? + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"You told a LIE?" + +"You confess it--you actually confess it--you told a lie!" + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The family consisted of four persons: Margaret Lester, widow, +aged thirty six; Helen Lester, her daughter, aged sixteen; +Mrs. Lester's maiden aunts, Hannah and Hester Gray, twins, aged +sixty-seven. Waking and sleeping, the three women spent their days +and night in adoring the young girl; in watching the movements +of her sweet spirit in the mirror of her face; in refreshing their +souls with the vision of her bloom and beauty; in listening to the +music of her voice; in gratefully recognizing how rich and fair +for them was the world with this presence in it; in shuddering +to think how desolate it would be with this light gone out of it. + +By nature--and inside--the aged aunts were utterly dear and lovable +and good, but in the matter of morals and conduct their training +had been so uncompromisingly strict that it had made them +exteriorly austere, not to say stern. Their influence was effective +in the house; so effective that the mother and the daughter +conformed to its moral and religious requirements cheerfully, +contentedly, happily, unquestionably. To do this was become +second nature to them. And so in this peaceful heaven there +were no clashings, no irritations, no fault-finding, no heart-burnings. + +In it a lie had no place. In it a lie was unthinkable. +In it speech was restricted to absolute truth, iron-bound truth, +implacable and uncompromising truth, let the resulting consequences +be what they might. At last, one day, under stress of circumstances, +the darling of the house sullied her lips with a lie--and confessed it, +with tears and self-upbraidings. There are not any words that can paint +the consternation of the aunts. It was as if the sky had crumpled +up and collapsed and the earth had tumbled to ruin with a crash. +They sat side by side, white and stern, gazing speechless upon +the culprit, who was on her knees before them with her face +buried first in one lap and then the other, moaning and sobbing, +and appealing for sympathy and forgiveness and getting no response, +humbly kissing the hand of the one, then of the other, only to see +it withdrawn as suffering defilement by those soiled lips. + +Twice, at intervals, Aunt Hester said, in frozen amazement: + +"You told a LIE?" + +Twice, at intervals, Aunt Hannah followed with the muttered +and amazed ejaculation: + +"You confess it--you actually confess it--you told a lie!" + +It was all they could say. The situation was new, unheard of, +incredible; they could not understand it, they did not know +how to take hold of it, it approximately paralyzed speech. + +At length it was decided that the erring child must be taken to +her mother, who was ill, and who ought to know what had happened. +Helen begged, besought, implored that she might be spared this +further disgrace, and that her mother might be spared the grief +and pain of it; but this could not be: duty required this sacrifice, +duty takes precedence of all things, nothing can absolve one from +a duty, with a duty no compromise is possible. + +Helen still begged, and said the sin was her own, her mother had +had no hand in it--why must she be made to suffer for it? + +But the aunts were obdurate in their righteousness, and said the +law that visited the sins of the parent upon the child was by all +right and reason reversible; and therefore it was but just that the +innocent mother of a sinning child should suffer her rightful share +of the grief and pain and shame which were the allotted wages of the sin. + +The three moved toward the sick-room. + + +At this time the doctor was approaching the house. He was still +a good distance away, however. He was a good doctor and a good man, +and he had a good heart, but one had to know him a year to get +over hating him, two years to learn to endure him, three to learn +to like him, and four and five to learn to love him. It was a slow +and trying education, but it paid. He was of great stature; he had +a leonine head, a leonine face, a rough voice, and an eye which was +sometimes a pirate's and sometimes a woman's, according to the mood. +He knew nothing about etiquette, and cared nothing about it; in speech, +manner, carriage, and conduct he was the reverse of conventional. +He was frank, to the limit; he had opinions on all subjects; they were +always on tap and ready for delivery, and he cared not a farthing +whether his listener liked them or didn't. Whom he loved he loved, +and manifested it; whom he didn't love he hated, and published +it from the housetops. In his young days he had been a sailor, +and the salt-airs of all the seas blew from him yet. He was a sturdy +and loyal Christian, and believed he was the best one in the land, +and the only one whose Christianity was perfectly sound, healthy, +full-charged with common sense, and had no decayed places in it. +People who had an ax to grind, or people who for any reason wanted +wanted to get on the soft side of him, called him The Christian-- +a phrase whose delicate flattery was music to his ears, and whose +capital T was such an enchanting and vivid object to him that he +could SEE it when it fell out of a person's mouth even in the dark. +Many who were fond of him stood on their consciences with both feet +and brazenly called him by that large title habitually, because it +was a pleasure to them to do anything that would please him; +and with eager and cordial malice his extensive and diligently +cultivated crop of enemies gilded it, beflowered it, expanded it +to "The ONLY Christian." Of these two titles, the latter had +the wider currency; the enemy, being greatly in the majority, +attended to that. Whatever the doctor believed, he believed with +all his heart, and would fight for it whenever he got the chance; +and if the intervals between chances grew to be irksomely wide, +he would invent ways of shortening them himself. He was +severely conscientious, according to his rather independent lights, +and whatever he took to be a duty he performed, no matter whether +the judgment of the professional moralists agreed with his own +or not. At sea, in his young days, he had used profanity freely, +but as soon as he was converted he made a rule, which he rigidly stuck +to ever afterward, never to use it except on the rarest occasions, +and then only when duty commanded. He had been a hard drinker at sea, +but after his conversion he became a firm and outspoken teetotaler, +in order to be an example to the young, and from that time forth he +seldom drank; never, indeed, except when it seemed to him to be a duty-- +a condition which sometimes occurred a couple of times a year, but never +as many as five times. + +Necessarily, such a man is impressionable, impulsive, emotional. +This one was, and had no gift at hiding his feelings; or if he +had it he took no trouble to exercise it. He carried his soul's +prevailing weather in his face, and when he entered a room +the parasols or the umbrellas went up--figuratively speaking-- +according to the indications. When the soft light was in his eye +it meant approval, and delivered a benediction; when he came with a +frown he lowered the temperature ten degrees. He was a well-beloved +man in the house of his friends, but sometimes a dreaded one. + +He had a deep affection for the Lester household and its several +members returned this feeling with interest. They mourned over +his kind of Christianity, and he frankly scoffed at theirs; +but both parties went on loving each other just the same. + +He was approaching the house--out of the distance; the aunts +and the culprit were moving toward the sick-chamber. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The three last named stood by the bed; the aunts austere, +the transgressor softly sobbing. The mother turned her head +on the pillow; her tired eyes flamed up instantly with sympathy +and passionate mother-love when they fell upon her child, +and she opened the refuge and shelter of her arms. + +"Wait!" said Aunt Hannah, and put out her hand and stayed the girl +from leaping into them. + +"Helen," said the other aunt, impressively, "tell your mother all. +Purge your soul; leave nothing unconfessed." + +Standing stricken and forlorn before her judges, the young girl +mourned her sorrowful tale through the end, then in a passion +of appeal cried out: + +"Oh, mother, can't you forgive me? won't you forgive me?--I am +so desolate!" + +"Forgive you, my darling? Oh, come to my arms!--there, lay your head +upon my breast, and be at peace. If you had told a thousand lies--" + +There was a sound--a warning--the clearing of a throat. The aunts +glanced up, and withered in their clothes--there stood the doctor, +his face a thunder-cloud. Mother and child knew nothing of +his presence; they lay locked together, heart to heart, steeped in +immeasurable content, dead to all things else. The physician +stood many moments glaring and glooming upon the scene before him; +studying it, analyzing it, searching out its genesis; then he put +up his hand and beckoned to the aunts. They came trembling to him, +and stood humbly before him and waited. He bent down and whispered: + +"Didn't I tell you this patient must be protected from all excitement? +What the hell have you been doing? Clear out of the place!" + +They obeyed. Half an hour later he appeared in the parlor, +serene, cheery, clothed in sunshine, conducting Helen, with his +arm about her waist, petting her, and saying gentle and playful +things to her; and she also was her sunny and happy self again. + +"Now, then;" he said, "good-by, dear. Go to your room, and keep +away from your mother, and behave yourself. But wait--put out +your tongue. There, that will do--you're as sound as a nut!" +He patted her cheek and added, "Run along now; I want to talk +to these aunts." + +She went from the presence. His face clouded over again at once; +and as he sat down he said: + +"You too have been doing a lot of damage--and maybe some good. +Some good, yes--such as it is. That woman's disease is typhoid! +You've brought it to a show-up, I think, with your insanities, +and that's a service--such as it is. I hadn't been able to determine +what it was before." + +With one impulse the old ladies sprang to their feet, quaking with terror. + +"Sit down! What are you proposing to do?" + +"Do? We must fly to her. We--" + +"You'll do nothing of the kind; you've done enough harm for one day. +Do you want to squander all your capital of crimes and follies on a +single deal? Sit down, I tell you. I have arranged for her to sleep; +she needs it; if you disturb her without my orders, I'll brain you-- +if you've got the materials for it." + +They sat down, distressed and indignant, but obedient, under compulsion. +He proceeded: + +"Now, then, I want this case explained. THEY wanted to explain it +to me--as if there hadn't been emotion or excitement enough already. +You knew my orders; how did you dare to go in there and get up +that riot?" + +Hester looked appealing at Hannah; Hannah returned a beseeching look +at Hester--neither wanted to dance to this unsympathetic orchestra. +The doctor came to their help. He said: + +"Begin, Hester." + +Fingering at the fringes of her shawl, and with lowered eyes, +Hester said, timidly: + +"We should not have disobeyed for any ordinary cause, but this +was vital. This was a duty. With a duty one has no choice; +one must put all lighter considerations aside and perform it. +We were obliged to arraign her before her mother. She had told +a lie." + +The doctor glowered upon the woman a moment, and seemed +to be trying to work up in his mind an understand of a wholly +incomprehensible proposition; then he stormed out: + +"She told a lie! DID she? God bless my soul! I tell a million a day! +And so does every doctor. And so does everybody--including you-- +for that matter. And THAT was the important thing that authorized +you to venture to disobey my orders and imperil that woman's life! +Look here, Hester Gray, this is pure lunacy; that girl COULDN'T tell +a lie that was intended to injure a person. The thing is impossible-- +absolutely impossible. You know it yourselves--both of you; +you know it perfectly well." + +Hannah came to her sister's rescue: + +"Hester didn't mean that it was that kind of a lie, and it wasn't. +But it was a lie." + +"Well, upon my word, I never heard such nonsense! Haven't you +got sense enough to discriminate between lies! Don't you know +the difference between a lie that helps and a lie that hurts?" + +"ALL lies are sinful," said Hannah, setting her lips together +like a vise; "all lies are forbidden." + +The Only Christian fidgeted impatiently in his chair. He went to attack +this proposition, but he did not quite know how or where to begin. +Finally he made a venture: + +"Hester, wouldn't you tell a lie to shield a person from an undeserved +injury or shame?" + +"No." + +"Not even a friend?" + +"No." + +"Not even your dearest friend?" + +"No. I would not." + +The doctor struggled in silence awhile with this situation; +then he asked: + +"Not even to save him from bitter pain and misery and grief?" + +"No. Not even to save his life." + +Another pause. Then: + +"Nor his soul?" + +There was a hush--a silence which endured a measurable interval-- +then Hester answered, in a low voice, but with decision: + +"Nor his soul?" + +No one spoke for a while; then the doctor said: + +"Is it with you the same, Hannah?" + +"Yes," she answered. + +"I ask you both--why?" + +"Because to tell such a lie, or any lie, is a sin, and could cost +us the loss of our own souls--WOULD, indeed, if we died without +time to repent." + +"Strange . . . strange . . . it is past belief." Then he +asked, roughly: "Is such a soul as that WORTH saving?" +He rose up, mumbling and grumbling, and started for the door, +stumping vigorously along. At the threshold he turned and rasped +out an admonition: "Reform! Drop this mean and sordid and selfish +devotion to the saving of your shabby little souls, and hunt up +something to do that's got some dignity to it! RISK your souls! risk +them in good causes; then if you lose them, why should you care? Reform!" + +The good old gentlewomen sat paralyzed, pulverized, outraged, insulted, +and brooded in bitterness and indignation over these blasphemies. +They were hurt to the heart, poor old ladies, and said they could +never forgive these injuries. + +"Reform!" + +They kept repeating that word resentfully. "Reform--and learn +to tell lies!" + +Time slipped along, and in due course a change came over their spirits. +They had completed the human being's first duty--which is to think +about himself until he has exhausted the subject, then he is in a +condition to take up minor interests and think of other people. +This changes the complexion of his spirits--generally wholesomely. +The minds of the two old ladies reverted to their beloved niece +and the fearful disease which had smitten her; instantly they forgot +the hurts their self-love had received, and a passionate desire +rose in their hearts to go to the help of the sufferer and comfort +her with their love, and minister to her, and labor for her the best +they could with their weak hands, and joyfully and affectionately +wear out their poor old bodies in her dear service if only they might +have the privilege. + +"And we shall have it!" said Hester, with the tears running +down her face. "There are no nurses comparable to us, for there +are no others that will stand their watch by that bed till they +drop and die, and God knows we would do that." + +"Amen," said Hannah, smiling approval and endorsement through the +mist of moisture that blurred her glasses. "The doctor knows us, +and knows we will not disobey again; and he will call no others. +He will not dare!" + +"Dare?" said Hester, with temper, and dashing the water from her eyes; +"he will dare anything--that Christian devil! But it will do no +good for him to try it this time--but, laws! Hannah! after all's +said and done, he is gifted and wise and good, and he would not +think of such a thing. . . . It is surely time for one of us to go +to that room. What is keeping him? Why doesn't he come and say so?" + +They caught the sound of his approaching step. He entered, sat down, +and began to talk. + +"Margaret is a sick woman," he said. "She is still sleeping, +but she will wake presently; then one of you must go to her. +She will be worse before she is better. Pretty soon a night-and-day +watch must be set. How much of it can you two undertake?" + +"All of it!" burst from both ladies at once. + +The doctor's eyes flashed, and he said, with energy: + +"You DO ring true, you brave old relics! And you SHALL do all of +the nursing you can, for there's none to match you in that divine +office in this town; but you can't do all of it, and it would +be a crime to let you." It was grand praise, golden praise, +coming from such a source, and it took nearly all the resentment +out of the aged twin's hearts. "Your Tilly and my old Nancy shall +do the rest--good nurses both, white souls with black skins, +watchful, loving, tender--just perfect nurses!--and competent liars +from the cradle. . . . Look you! keep a little watch on Helen; +she is sick, and is going to be sicker." + +The ladies looked a little surprised, and not credulous; and Hester said: + +"How is that? It isn't an hour since you said she was as sound +as a nut." + +The doctor answered, tranquilly: + +"It was a lie." + +The ladies turned upon him indignantly, and Hannah said: + +"How can you make an odious confession like that, in so indifferent +a tone, when you know how we feel about all forms of--" + +"Hush! You are as ignorant as cats, both of you, and you don't know +what you are talking about. You are like all the rest of the moral moles; +you lie from morning till night, but because you don't do it with +your mouths, but only with your lying eyes, your lying inflections, +your deceptively misplaced emphasis, and your misleading gestures, +you turn up your complacent noses and parade before God and +the world as saintly and unsmirched Truth-Speakers, in whose +cold-storage souls a lie would freeze to death if it got there! +Why will you humbug yourselves with that foolish notion that no +lie is a lie except a spoken one? What is the difference between +lying with your eyes and lying with your mouth? There is none; +and if you would reflect a moment you would see that it is so. +There isn't a human being that doesn't tell a gross of lies every day +of his life; and you--why, between you, you tell thirty thousand; +yet you flare up here in a lurid hypocritical horror because I +tell that child a benevolent and sinless lie to protect her from +her imagination, which would get to work and warm up her blood to a +fever in an hour, if I were disloyal enough to my duty to let it. +Which I should probably do if I were interested in saving my soul +by such disreputable means. + +"Come, let us reason together. Let us examine details. When you +two were in the sick-room raising that riot, what would you have +done if you had known I was coming?" + +"Well, what?" + +"You would have slipped out and carried Helen with you--wouldn't you?" + +The ladies were silent. + +"What would be your object and intention?" + +"Well, what?" + +"To keep me from finding out your guilt; to beguile me to infer that +Margaret's excitement proceeded from some cause not known to you. +In a word, to tell me a lie--a silent lie. Moreover, a possibly +harmful one." + +The twins colored, but did not speak. + +"You not only tell myriads of silent lies, but you tell lies +with your mouths--you two." + +"THAT is not so!" + +"It is so. But only harmless ones. You never dream of uttering +a harmful one. Do you know that that is a concession--and a confession?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"It is an unconscious concession that harmless lies are not criminal; +it is a confession that you constantly MAKE that discrimination. +For instance, you declined old Mrs. Foster's invitation last week +to meet those odious Higbies at supper--in a polite note in which you +expressed regret and said you were very sorry you could not go. +It was a lie. It was as unmitigated a lie as was ever uttered. +Deny it, Hester--with another lie." + +Hester replied with a toss of her head. + +"That will not do. Answer. Was it a lie, or wasn't it?" + +The color stole into the cheeks of both women, and with a struggle +and an effort they got out their confession: + +"It was a lie." + +"Good--the reform is beginning; there is hope for you yet; +you will not tell a lie to save your dearest friend's soul, but you +will spew out one without a scruple to save yourself the discomfort +of telling an unpleasant truth." + +He rose. Hester, speaking for both, said; coldly: + +"We have lied; we perceive it; it will occur no more. To lie is +a sin. We shall never tell another one of any kind whatsoever, +even lies of courtesy or benevolence, to save any one a pang +or a sorrow decreed for him by God." + +"Ah, how soon you will fall! In fact, you have fallen already; +for what you have just uttered is a lie. Good-by. Reform! +One of you go to the sick-room now." + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Twelve days later. + +Mother and child were lingering in the grip of the hideous disease. +Of hope for either there was little. The aged sisters looked white +and worn, but they would not give up their posts. Their hearts +were breaking, poor old things, but their grit was steadfast +and indestructible. All the twelve days the mother had pined for +the child, and the child for the mother, but both knew that the prayer +of these longings could not be granted. When the mother was told-- +on the first day--that her disease was typhoid, she was frightened, +and asked if there was danger that Helen could have contracted it the +day before, when she was in the sick-chamber on that confession visit. +Hester told her the doctor had poo-pooed the idea. It troubled +Hester to say it, although it was true, for she had not believed +the doctor; but when she saw the mother's joy in the news, the pain +in her conscience lost something of its force--a result which made +her ashamed of the constructive deception which she had practiced, +though not ashamed enough to make her distinctly and definitely +wish she had refrained from it. From that moment the sick woman +understood that her daughter must remain away, and she said she would +reconcile herself to the separation the best she could, for she +would rather suffer death than have her child's health imperiled. +That afternoon Helen had to take to her bed, ill. She grew worse +during the night. In the morning her mother asked after her: + +"Is she well?" + +Hester turned cold; she opened her lips, but the words refused to come. +The mother lay languidly looking, musing, waiting; suddenly she +turned white and gasped out: + +"Oh, my God! what is it? is she sick?" + +Then the poor aunt's tortured heart rose in rebellion, and words came: + +"No--be comforted; she is well." + +The sick woman put all her happy heart in her gratitude: + +"Thank God for those dear words! Kiss me. How I worship you +for saying them!" + +Hester told this incident to Hannah, who received it with +a rebuking look, and said, coldly: + +"Sister, it was a lie." + +Hester's lips trembled piteously; she choked down a sob, and said: + +"Oh, Hannah, it was a sin, but I could not help it. I could not +endure the fright and the misery that were in her face." + +"No matter. It was a lie. God will hold you to account for it." + +"Oh, I know it, I know it," cried Hester, wringing her hands, +"but even if it were now, I could not help it. I know I should do +it again." + +"Then take my place with Helen in the morning. I will make +the report myself." + +Hester clung to her sister, begging and imploring. + +"Don't, Hannah, oh, don't--you will kill her." + +"I will at least speak the truth." + +In the morning she had a cruel report to bear to the mother, +and she braced herself for the trial. When she returned from +her mission, Hester was waiting, pale and trembling, in the hall. +She whispered: + +"Oh, how did she take it--that poor, desolate mother?" + +Hannah's eyes were swimming in tears. She said: + +"God forgive me, I told her the child was well!" + +Hester gathered her to her heart, with a grateful "God bless you, Hannah!" +and poured out her thankfulness in an inundation of worshiping praises. + +After that, the two knew the limit of their strength, and accepted +their fate. They surrendered humbly, and abandoned themselves to the +hard requirements of the situation. Daily they told the morning lie, +and confessed their sin in prayer; not asking forgiveness, as not +being worthy of it, but only wishing to make record that they +realized their wickedness and were not desiring to hide it or excuse it. + +Daily, as the fair young idol of the house sank lower and lower, +the sorrowful old aunts painted her glowing bloom and her fresh young +beauty to the wan mother, and winced under the stabs her ecstasies +of joy and gratitude gave them. + +In the first days, while the child had strength to hold a pencil, +she wrote fond little love-notes to her mother, in which she concealed +her illness; and these the mother read and reread through happy +eyes wet with thankful tears, and kissed them over and over again, +and treasured them as precious things under her pillow. + +Then came a day when the strength was gone from the hand, and the +mind wandered, and the tongue babbled pathetic incoherences. +this was a sore dilemma for the poor aunts. There were no love-notes +for the mother. They did not know what to do. Hester began a +carefully studied and plausible explanation, but lost the track of it +and grew confused; suspicion began to show in the mother's face, +then alarm. Hester saw it, recognized the imminence of the danger, +and descended to the emergency, pulling herself resolutely together +and plucking victor from the open jaws of defeat. In a placid +and convincing voice she said: + +"I thought it might distress you to know it, but Helen spent the night +at the Sloanes'. There was a little party there, and, although she +did not want to go, and you so sick, we persuaded her, she being +young and needing the innocent pastimes of youth, and we believing +you would approve. Be sure she will write the moment she comes." + +"How good you are, and how dear and thoughtful for us both! +Approve? Why, I thank you with all my heart. My poor little exile! +Tell her I want her to have every pleasure she can--I would not rob +her of one. Only let her keep her health, that is all I ask. +Don't let that suffer; I could not bear it. How thankful I am that she +escaped this infection--and what a narrow risk she ran, Aunt Hester! +Think of that lovely face all dulled and burned with fever. +I can't bear the thought of it. Keep her health. Keep her bloom! +I can see her now, the dainty creature--with the big, blue, earnest eyes; +and sweet, oh, so sweet and gentle and winning! Is she as beautiful +as ever, dear Aunt Hester?" + +"Oh, more beautiful and bright and charming than ever she was before, +if such a thing can be"--and Hester turned away and fumbled with +the medicine-bottles, to hide her shame and grief. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +After a little, both aunts were laboring upon a difficult and baffling +work in Helen's chamber. Patiently and earnestly, with their stiff +old fingers, they were trying to forge the required note. They made +failure after failure, but they improved little by little all the time. +The pity of it all, the pathetic humor of it, there was none to see; +they themselves were unconscious of it. Often their tears fell +upon the notes and spoiled them; sometimes a single misformed word +made a note risky which could have been ventured but for that; +but at last Hannah produced one whose script was a good enough +imitation of Helen's to pass any but a suspicious eye, and bountifully +enriched it with the petting phrases and loving nicknames that +had been familiar on the child's lips from her nursery days. +She carried it to the mother, who took it with avidity, and kissed it, +and fondled it, reading its precious words over and over again, +and dwelling with deep contentment upon its closing paragraph: + +"Mousie darling, if I could only see you, and kiss your eyes, +and feel your arms about me! I am so glad my practicing does not +disturb you. Get well soon. Everybody is good to me, but I am +so lonesome without you, dear mamma." + +"The poor child, I know just how she feels. She cannot be quite +happy without me; and I--oh, I live in the light of her eyes! +Tell her she must practice all she pleases; and, Aunt Hannah-- +tell her I can't hear the piano this far, nor hear dear voice +when she sings: God knows I wish I could. No one knows how sweet +that voice is to me; and to think--some day it will be silent! +What are you crying for?" + +"Only because--because--it was just a memory. When I came away she +was singing, 'Loch Lomond.' The pathos of it! It always moves +me so when she sings that." + +"And me, too. How heartbreakingly beautiful it is when some youthful +sorrow is brooding in her breast and she sings it for the mystic +healing it brings. . . . Aunt Hannah?" + +"Dear Margaret?" + +"I am very ill. Sometimes it comes over me that I shall never hear +that dear voice again." + +"Oh, don't--don't, Margaret! I can't bear it!" + +Margaret was moved and distressed, and said, gently: + +"There--there--let me put my arms around you. +Don't cry. There--put your cheek to mine. Be comforted. +I wish to live. I will live if I can. Ah, what could she +do without me! . . . Does she often speak of me?--but I know she does." + +"Oh, all the time--all the time!" + +"My sweet child! She wrote the note the moment she came home?" + +"Yes--the first moment. She would not wait to take off her things." + +"I knew it. It is her dear, impulsive, affectionate way. I knew it +without asking, but I wanted to hear you say it. The petted wife +knows she is loved, but she makes her husband tell her so every day, +just for the joy of hearing it. . . . She used the pen this time. +That is better; the pencil-marks could rub out, and I should grieve +for that. Did you suggest that she use the pen?" + +"Y--no--she--it was her own idea." + +The mother looked her pleasure, and said: + +"I was hoping you would say that. There was never such a dear +and thoughtful child! . . . Aunt Hannah?" + +"Dear Margaret?" + +"Go and tell her I think of her all the time, and worship her. +Why--you are crying again. Don't be so worried about me, dear; +I think there is nothing to fear, yet." + +The grieving messenger carried her message, and piously delivered +it to unheeding ears. The girl babbled on unaware; looking up +at her with wondering and startled eyes flaming with fever, +eyes in which was no light of recognition: + +"Are you--no, you are not my mother. I want her--oh, I want her! +She was here a minute ago--I did not see her go. Will she come? will +she come quickly? will she come now? . . . There are so many houses +. . . and they oppress me so . . . and everything whirls and turns +and whirls . . . oh, my head, my head!"--and so she wandered on +and on, in her pain, flitting from one torturing fancy to another, +and tossing her arms about in a weary and ceaseless persecution +of unrest. + +Poor old Hannah wetted the parched lips and softly stroked the +hot brow, murmuring endearing and pitying words, and thanking +the Father of all that the mother was happy and did not know. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Daily the child sank lower and steadily lower towards the grave, +and daily the sorrowing old watchers carried gilded tidings of her +radiant health and loveliness to the happy mother, whose pilgrimage +was also now nearing its end. And daily they forged loving and cheery +notes in the child's hand, and stood by with remorseful consciences +and bleeding hearts, and wept to see the grateful mother devour +them and adore them and treasure them away as things beyond price, +because of their sweet source, and sacred because her child's hand +had touched them. + +At last came that kindly friend who brings healing and peace to all. +The lights were burning low. In the solemn hush which precedes the +dawn vague figures flitted soundless along the dim hall and gathered +silent and awed in Helen's chamber, and grouped themselves about +her bed, for a warning had gone forth, and they knew. The dying +girl lay with closed lids, and unconscious, the drapery upon her +breast faintly rising and falling as her wasting life ebbed away. +At intervals a sigh or a muffled sob broke upon the stillness. +The same haunting thought was in all minds there: the pity of +this death, the going out into the great darkness, and the mother +not here to help and hearten and bless. + +Helen stirred; her hands began to grope wistfully about as if they +sought something--she had been blind some hours. The end was come; +all knew it. With a great sob Hester gathered her to her breast, +crying, "Oh, my child, my darling!" A rapturous light broke in the +dying girl's face, for it was mercifully vouchsafed her to mistake +those sheltering arms for another's; and she went to her rest murmuring, +"Oh, mamma, I am so happy--I longed for you--now I can die." + + +Two hours later Hester made her report. The mother asked: + +"How is it with the child?" + +"She is well." + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +A sheaf of white crape and black was hung upon the door of the house, +and there it swayed and rustled in the wind and whispered its tidings. +At noon the preparation of the dead was finished, and in the +coffin lay the fair young form, beautiful, and in the sweet face +a great peace. Two mourners sat by it, grieving and worshipping-- +Hannah and the black woman Tilly. Hester came, and she was trembling, +for a great trouble was upon her spirit. She said: + +"She asks for a note." + +Hannah's face blanched. She had not thought of this; it had seemed +that that pathetic service was ended. But she realized now that +that could not be. For a little while the two women stood looking +into each other's face, with vacant eyes; then Hannah said: + +"There is no way out of it--she must have it; she will suspect, else." + +"And she would find out." + +"Yes. It would break her heart." She looked at the dead face, +and her eyes filled. "I will write it," she said. + +Hester carried it. The closing line said: + +"Darling Mousie, dear sweet mother, we shall soon be together again. +Is not that good news? And it is true; they all say it is true." + +The mother mourned, saying: + +"Poor child, how will she bear it when she knows? I shall never see +her again in life. It is hard, so hard. She does not suspect? +You guard her from that?" + +"She thinks you will soon be well." + +"How good you are, and careful, dear Aunt Hester! None goes near +herr who could carry the infection?" + +"It would be a crime." + +"But you SEE her?" + +"With a distance between--yes." + +"That is so good. Others one could not trust; but you two guardian +angels--steel is not so true as you. Others would be unfaithful; +and many would deceive, and lie." + +Hester's eyes fell, and her poor old lips trembled. + +"Let me kiss you for her, Aunt Hester; and when I am gone, +and the danger is past, place the kiss upon her dear lips some day, +and say her mother sent it, and all her mother's broken heart is +in it." + +Within the hour, Hester, raining tears upon the dead face, +performed her pathetic mission. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Another day dawned, and grew, and spread its sunshine in the earth. +Aunt Hannah brought comforting news to the failing mother, and a +happy note, which said again, "We have but a little time to wait, +darling mother, then we shall be together." + +The deep note of a bell came moaning down the wind. + +"Aunt Hannah, it is tolling. Some poor soul is at rest. +As I shall be soon. You will not let her forget me?" + +"Oh, God knows she never will!" + +"Do not you hear strange noises, Aunt Hannah? It sounds like +the shuffling of many feet." + +"We hoped you would not hear it, dear. It is a little company +gathering, for--for Helen's sake, poor little prisoner. There will +be music--and she loves it so. We thought you would not mind." + +"Mind? Oh no, no--oh, give her everything her dear heart can desire. +How good you two are to her, and how good to me! God bless you +both always!" + +After a listening pause: + +"How lovely! It is her organ. Is she playing it herself, do you think?" +Faint and rich and inspiring the chords floating to her ears on +the still air. "Yes, it is her touch, dear heart, I recognize it. +They are singing. Why--it is a hymn! and the sacredest of all, +the most touching, the most consoling. . . . It seems to open +the gates of paradise to me. . . . If I could die now. . . ." + +Faint and far the words rose out of the stillness: + + +Nearer, my God, to Thee, + +Nearer to Thee, + +E'en though it be a cross + +That raiseth me. + + +With the closing of the hymn another soul passed to its rest, +and they that had been one in life were not sundered in death. +The sisters, mourning and rejoicing, said: + +"How blessed it was that she never knew!" + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +At midnight they sat together, grieving, and the angel of the Lord +appeared in the midst transfigured with a radiance not of earth; +and speaking, said: + +"For liars a place is appointed. There they burn in the fires +of hell from everlasting unto everlasting. Repent!" + +The bereaved fell upon their knees before him and clasped their +hands and bowed their gray heads, adoring. But their tongues +clove to the roof of their mouths, and they were dumb. + +"Speak! that I may bear the message to the chancery of heaven +and bring again the decree from which there is no appeal." + +Then they bowed their heads yet lower, and one said: + +"Our sin is great, and we suffer shame; but only perfect and final +repentance can make us whole; and we are poor creatures who have learned +our human weakness, and we know that if we were in those hard straits +again our hearts would fail again, and we should sin as before. +The strong could prevail, and so be saved, but we are lost." + +They lifted their heads in supplication. The angel was gone. +While they marveled and wept he came again; and bending low, +he whispered the decree. + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Was it Heaven? Or Hell? + + +*** + + + +A CURE FOR THE BLUES + + + +By courtesy of Mr. Cable I came into possession of a singular book +eight or ten years ago. It is likely that mine is now the only copy +in existence. Its title-page, unabbreviated, reads as follows: + +"The Enemy Conquered; or, Love Triumphant. By G. Ragsdale McClintock, +[1] author of 'An Address,' etc., delivered at Sunflower Hill, +South Carolina, and member of the Yale Law School. New Haven: +published by T. H. Pease, 83 Chapel Street, 1845." + +No one can take up this book and lay it down again unread. +Whoever reads one line of it is caught, is chained; he has become +the contented slave of its fascinations; and he will read and read, +devour and devour, and will not let it go out of his hand till it +is finished to the last line, though the house be on fire over +his head. And after a first reading he will not throw it aside, +but will keep it by him, with his Shakespeare and his Homer, +and will take it up many and many a time, when the world is dark +and his spirits are low, and be straightway cheered and refreshed. +Yet this work has been allowed to lie wholly neglected, unmentioned, +and apparently unregretted, for nearly half a century. + +The reader must not imagine that he is to find in it wisdom, +brilliancy, fertility of invention, ingenuity of construction, +excellence of form, purity of style, perfection of imagery, +truth to nature, clearness of statement, humanly possible situations, +humanly possible people, fluent narrative, connected sequence of events-- +or philosophy, or logic, or sense. No; the rich, deep, beguiling charm +of the book lies in the total and miraculous ABSENCE from it of all +these qualities--a charm which is completed and perfected by the +evident fact that the author, whose naive innocence easily and surely +wins our regard, and almost our worship, does not know that they +are absent, does not even suspect that they are absent. When read +by the light of these helps to an understanding of the situation, +the book is delicious--profoundly and satisfyingly delicious. + +I call it a book because the author calls it a book, I call it a work +because he calls it a work; but, in truth, it is merely a duodecimo +pamphlet of thirty-one pages. It was written for fame and money, +as the author very frankly--yes, and very hopefully, too, poor fellow-- +says in his preface. The money never came--no penny of it ever came; +and how long, how pathetically long, the fame has been deferred-- +forty-seven years! He was young then, it would have been so much to +him then; but will he care for it now? + +As time is measured in America, McClintock's epoch is antiquity. +In his long-vanished day the Southern author had a passion for +"eloquence"; it was his pet, his darling. He would be eloquent, +or perish. And he recognized only one kind of eloquence--the lurid, +the tempestuous, the volcanic. He liked words--big words, +fine words, grand words, rumbling, thundering, reverberating words; +with sense attaching if it could be got in without marring the sound, +but not otherwise. He loved to stand up before a dazed world, +and pour forth flame and smoke and lava and pumice-stone into +the skies, and work his subterranean thunders, and shake himself +with earthquakes, and stench himself with sulphur fumes. If he +consumed his own fields and vineyards, that was a pity, yes; but he +would have his eruption at any cost. Mr. McClintock's eloquence-- +and he is always eloquent, his crater is always spouting--is of the +pattern common to his day, but he departs from the custom of the time +in one respect: his brethren allowed sense to intrude when it did +not mar the sound, but he does not allow it to intrude at all. +For example, consider this figure, which he used in the village +"Address" referred to with such candid complacency in the title-page +above quoted--"like the topmost topaz of an ancient tower." +Please read it again; contemplate it; measure it; walk around it; +climb up it; try to get at an approximate realization of the size of it. +Is the fellow to that to be found in literature, ancient or modern, +foreign or domestic, living or dead, drunk or sober? One notices +how fine and grand it sounds. We know that if it was loftily uttered, +it got a noble burst of applause from the villagers; yet there isn't +a ray of sense in it, or meaning to it. + +McClintock finished his education at Yale in 1843, and came to +Hartford on a visit that same year. I have talked with men who at +that time talked with him, and felt of him, and knew he was real. +One needs to remember that fact and to keep fast hold of it; +it is the only way to keep McClintock's book from undermining one's +faith in McClintock's actuality. + +As to the book. The first four pages are devoted to an inflamed eulogy +of Woman--simply woman in general, or perhaps as an institution-- +wherein, among other compliments to her details, he pays a unique +one to her voice. He says it "fills the breast with fond alarms, +echoed by every rill." It sounds well enough, but it is not true. +After the eulogy he takes up his real work and the novel begins. +It begins in the woods, near the village of Sunflower Hill. + + +Brightening clouds seemed to rise from the mist of the fair Chattahoochee, +to spread their beauty over the thick forest, to guide the hero whose +bosom beats with aspirations to conquer the enemy that would tarnish +his name, and to win back the admiration of his long-tried friend. + + +It seems a general remark, but it is not general; the hero mentioned +is the to-be hero of the book; and in this abrupt fashion, +and without name or description, he is shoveled into the tale. +"With aspirations to conquer the enemy that would tarnish his name" +is merely a phrase flung in for the sake of the sound--let it +not mislead the reader. No one is trying to tarnish this person; +no one has thought of it. The rest of the sentence is also merely +a phrase; the man has no friend as yet, and of course has had no +chance to try him, or win back his admiration, or disturb him in any +other way. + +The hero climbs up over "Sawney's Mountain," and down the other side, +making for an old Indian "castle"--which becomes "the red man's hut" +in the next sentence; and when he gets there at last, he "surveys +with wonder and astonishment" the invisible structure, "which time +has buried in the dust, and thought to himself his happiness was +not yet complete." One doesn't know why it wasn't, nor how near it +came to being complete, nor what was still wanting to round it up +and make it so. Maybe it was the Indian; but the book does not say. +At this point we have an episode: + + +Beside the shore of the brook sat a young man, about eighteen or twenty, +who seemed to be reading some favorite book, and who had a remarkably +noble countenance--eyes which betrayed more than a common mind. +This of course made the youth a welcome guest, and gained him +friends in whatever condition of his life he might be placed. +The traveler observed that he was a well-built figure which showed +strength and grace in every movement. He accordingly addressed +him in quite a gentlemanly manner, and inquired of him the way +to the village. After he had received the desired information, +and was about taking his leave, the youth said, "Are you not +Major Elfonzo, the great musician [2]--the champion of a noble cause-- +the modern Achilles, who gained so many victories in the Florida War?" +"I bear that name," said the Major, "and those titles, +trusting at the same time that the ministers of grace will carry +me triumphantly through all my laudable undertakings, and if," +continued the Major, "you, sir, are the patronizer of noble deeds, +I should like to make you my confidant and learn your address." +The youth looked somewhat amazed, bowed low, mused for a moment, +and began: "My name is Roswell. I have been recently admitted +to the bar, and can only give a faint outline of my future success +in that honorable profession; but I trust, sir, like the Eagle, I shall +look down from the lofty rocks upon the dwellings of man, and shall +ever be ready to give you any assistance in my official capacity, +and whatever this muscular arm of mine can do, whenever it shall be +called from its buried GREATNESS." The Major grasped him by the hand, +and exclaimed: "O! thou exalted spirit of inspiration--thou flame +of burning prosperity, may the Heaven-directed blaze be the glare +of thy soul, and battle down every rampart that seems to impede +your progress!" + + +There is a strange sort of originality about McClintock; +he imitates other people's styles, but nobody can imitate his, +not even an idiot. Other people can be windy, but McClintock blows +a gale; other people can blubber sentiment, but McClintock spews it; +other people can mishandle metaphors, but only McClintock knows +how to make a business of it. McClintock is always McClintock, +he is always consistent, his style is always his own style. He does +not make the mistake of being relevant on one page and irrelevant +on another; he is irrelevant on all of them. He does not make +the mistake of being lucid in one place and obscure in another; +he is obscure all the time. He does not make the mistake of slipping +in a name here and there that is out of character with his work; +he always uses names that exactly and fantastically fit his lunatics. +In the matter of undeviating consistency he stands alone in authorship. +It is this that makes his style unique, and entitles it to a name +of its own--McClintockian. It is this that protects it from being +mistaken for anybody else's. Uncredited quotations from other writers +often leave a reader in doubt as to their authorship, but McClintock +is safe from that accident; an uncredited quotation from him would +always be recognizable. When a boy nineteen years old, who had +just been admitted to the bar, says, "I trust, sir, like the Eagle, +I shall look down from lofty rocks upon the dwellings of man," +we know who is speaking through that boy; we should recognize +that note anywhere. There be myriads of instruments in this +world's literary orchestra, and a multitudinous confusion of sounds +that they make, wherein fiddles are drowned, and guitars smothered, +and one sort of drum mistaken for another sort; but whensoever the +brazen note of the McClintockian trombone breaks through that fog +of music, that note is recognizable, and about it there can be no blur +of doubt. + +The novel now arrives at the point where the Major goes home to see +his father. When McClintock wrote this interview he probably +believed it was pathetic. + + +The road which led to the town presented many attractions Elfonzo +had bid farewell to the youth of deep feeling, and was now wending +his way to the dreaming spot of his fondness. The south winds +whistled through the woods, as the waters dashed against the banks, +as rapid fire in the pent furnace roars. This brought him to +remember while alone, that he quietly left behind the hospitality +of a father's house, and gladly entered the world, with higher hopes +than are often realized. But as he journeyed onward, he was mindful +of the advice of his father, who had often looked sadly on the ground, +when tears of cruelly deceived hope moistened his eyes. Elfonzo had +been somewhat a dutiful son; yet fond of the amusements of life-- +had been in distant lands--had enjoyed the pleasure of the world, +and had frequently returned to the scenes of his boyhood, +almost destitute of many of the comforts of life. In this condition, +he would frequently say to his father, "Have I offended you, +that you look upon me as a stranger, and frown upon me with +stinging looks? Will you not favor me with the sound of your voice? +If I have trampled upon your veneration, or have spread a humid veil +of darkness around your expectations, send me back into the world, +where no heart beats for me--where the foot of man had never yet trod; +but give me at least one kind word--allow me to come into the presence +sometimes of thy winter-worn locks." "Forbid it, Heaven, that I +should be angry with thee," answered the father, "my son, and yet +I send thee back to the children of the world--to the cold charity +of the combat, and to a land of victory. I read another destiny +in thy countenance--I learn thy inclinations from the flame that has +already kindled in my soul a strange sensation. It will seek thee, +my dear ELFONZO, it will find thee--thou canst not escape that +lighted torch, which shall blot out from the remembrance of men +a long train of prophecies which they have foretold against thee. +I once thought not so. Once, I was blind; but now the path of life +is plain before me, and my sight is clear; yet, Elfonzo, return to thy +worldly occupation--take again in thy hand that chord of sweet sounds-- +struggle with the civilized world and with your own heart; +fly swiftly to the enchanted ground--let the night-OWL send forth +its screams from the stubborn oak--let the sea sport upon the beach, +and the stars sing together; but learn of these, Elfonzo, thy doom, +and thy hiding-place. Our most innocent as well as our most lawful +DESIRES must often be denied us, that we may learn to sacrifice them +to a Higher will." + +Remembering such admonitions with gratitude, Elfonzo was immediately +urged by the recollection of his father's family to keep moving. + + +McClintock has a fine gift in the matter of surprises; but as a +rule they are not pleasant ones, they jar upon the feelings. +His closing sentence in the last quotation is of that sort. +It brings one down out of the tinted clouds in too sudden and collapsed +a fashion. It incenses one against the author for a moment. +It makes the reader want to take him by this winter-worn locks, +and trample on his veneration, and deliver him over to the cold +charity of combat, and blot him out with his own lighted torch. +But the feeling does not last. The master takes again in his hand that +concord of sweet sounds of his, and one is reconciled, pacified. + + +His steps became quicker and quicker--he hastened through the PINY woods, +dark as the forest was, and with joy he very soon reached the little +village of repose, in whose bosom rested the boldest chivalry. +His close attention to every important object--his modest questions +about whatever was new to him--his reverence for wise old age, +and his ardent desire to learn many of the fine arts, soon brought +him into respectable notice. + +One mild winter day, as he walked along the streets toward the Academy, +which stood upon a small eminence, surrounded by native growth-- +some venerable in its appearance, others young and prosperous-- +all seemed inviting, and seemed to be the very place for learning as +well as for genius to spend its research beneath its spreading shades. +He entered its classic walls in the usual mode of southern manners. + + +The artfulness of this man! None knows so well as he how to pique +the curiosity of the reader--and how to disappoint it. He raises +the hope, here, that he is going to tell all about how one enters +a classic wall in the usual mode of Southern manners; but does he? +No; he smiles in his sleeve, and turns aside to other matters. + + +The principal of the Institution begged him to be seated and listen +to the recitations that were going on. He accordingly obeyed +the request, and seemed to be much pleased. After the school +was dismissed, and the young hearts regained their freedom, +with the songs of the evening, laughing at the anticipated pleasures +of a happy home, while others tittered at the actions of the past day, +he addressed the teacher in a tone that indicated a resolution-- +with an undaunted mind. He said he had determined to become +a student, if he could meet with his approbation. "Sir," said he, +"I have spent much time in the world. I have traveled among +the uncivilized inhabitants of America. I have met with friends, +and combated with foes; but none of these gratify my ambition, +or decide what is to be my destiny. I see the learned world +have an influence with the voice of the people themselves. +The despoilers of the remotest kingdoms of the earth refer their +differences to this class of persons. This the illiterate and +inexperienced little dream of; and now if you will receive me as I am, +with these deficiencies--with all my misguided opinions, I will give +you my honor, sir, that I will never disgrace the Institution, +or those who have placed you in this honorable station." +The instructor, who had met with many disappointments, knew how to +feel for a stranger who had been thus turned upon the charities +of an unfeeling community. He looked at him earnestly, and said: +"Be of good cheer--look forward, sir, to the high destination you +may attain. Remember, the more elevated the mark at which you aim, +the more sure, the more glorious, the more magnificent the prize." +From wonder to wonder, his encouragement led the impatient listener. +A strange nature bloomed before him--giant streams promised +him success--gardens of hidden treasures opened to his view. +All this, so vividly described, seemed to gain a new witchery from his +glowing fancy. + + +It seems to me that this situation is new in romance. I feel +sure it has not been attempted before. Military celebrities have +been disguised and set at lowly occupations for dramatic effect, +but I think McClintock is the first to send one of them to school. +Thus, in this book, you pass from wonder to wonder, through gardens +of hidden treasure, where giant streams bloom before you, +and behind you, and all around, and you feel as happy, and groggy, +and satisfied with your quart of mixed metaphor aboard as you would +if it had been mixed in a sample-room and delivered from a jug. + +Now we come upon some more McClintockian surprise--a sweetheart +who is sprung upon us without any preparation, along with a name +for her which is even a little more of a surprise than she herself is. + + +In 1842 he entered the class, and made rapid progress in the English +and Latin departments. Indeed, he continued advancing with such +rapidity that he was like to become the first in his class, +and made such unexpected progress, and was so studious, that he had +almost forgotten the pictured saint of his affections. The fresh +wreaths of the pine and cypress had waited anxiously to drop once +more the dews of Heaven upon the heads of those who had so often +poured forth the tender emotions of their souls under its boughs. +He was aware of the pleasure that he had seen there. So one evening, as +he was returning from his reading, he concluded he would pay a visit +to this enchanting spot. Little did he think of witnessing a shadow +of his former happiness, though no doubt he wished it might be so. +He continued sauntering by the roadside, meditating on the past. +The nearer he approached the spot, the more anxious he became. +At that moment a tall female figure flitted across his path, with a +bunch of roses in her hand; her countenance showed uncommon vivacity, +with a resolute spirit; her ivory teeth already appeared as she +smiled beautifully, promenading--while her ringlets of hair dangled +unconsciously around her snowy neck. Nothing was wanting to complete +her beauty. The tinge of the rose was in full bloom upon her cheek; +the charms of sensibility and tenderness were always her associates. +In Ambulinia's bosom dwelt a noble soul--one that never faded-- +one that never was conquered. + + +Ambulinia! It can hardly be matched in fiction. The full name +is Ambulinia Valeer. Marriage will presently round it out and +perfect it. Then it will be Mrs. Ambulinia Valeer Elfonzo. +It takes the chromo. + + +Her heart yielded to no feeling but the love of Elfonzo, on whom +she gazed with intense delight, and to whom she felt herself +more closely bound, because he sought the hand of no other. +Elfonzo was roused from his apparent reverie. His books no longer +were his inseparable companions--his thoughts arrayed themselves +to encourage him to the field of victory. He endeavored to speak +to his supposed Ambulinia, but his speech appeared not in words. +No, his effort was a stream of fire, that kindled his soul into +a flame of admiration, and carried his senses away captive. +Ambulinia had disappeared, to make him more mindful of his duty. +As she walked speedily away through the piny woods, she calmly echoed: +"O! Elfonzo, thou wilt now look from thy sunbeams. Thou shalt +now walk in a new path--perhaps thy way leads through darkness; +but fear not, the stars foretell happiness." + + +To McClintock that jingling jumble of fine words meant something, +no doubt, or seemed to mean something; but it is useless for us to try +to divine what it was. Ambulinia comes--we don't know whence nor why; +she mysteriously intimates--we don't know what; and then she goes +echoing away--we don't know whither; and down comes the curtain. +McClintock's art is subtle; McClintock's art is deep. + + +Not many days afterward, as surrounded by fragrant flowers she sat +one evening at twilight, to enjoy the cool breeze that whispered +notes of melody along the distant groves, the little birds perched +on every side, as if to watch the movements of their new visitor. +The bells were tolling, when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild +wood flowers, holding in his hand his favorite instrument of music-- +his eye continually searching for Ambulinia, who hardly seemed +to perceive him, as she played carelessly with the songsters +that hopped from branch to branch. Nothing could be more striking +than the difference between the two. Nature seemed to have given +the more tender soul to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous +to Ambulinia. A deep feeling spoke from the eyes of Elfonzo-- +such a feeling as can only be expressed by those who are blessed +as admirers, and by those who are able to return the same with +sincerity of heart. He was a few years older than Ambulinia: +she had turned a little into her seventeenth. He had almost grown +up in the Cherokee country, with the same equal proportions as one +of the natives. But little intimacy had existed between them until +the year forty-one--because the youth felt that the character of such +a lovely girl was too exalted to inspire any other feeling than +that of quiet reverence. But as lovers will not always be insulted, +at all times and under all circumstances, by the frowns and cold +looks of crabbed old age, which should continually reflect dignity +upon those around, and treat the unfortunate as well as the fortunate +with a graceful mien, he continued to use diligence and perseverance. +All this lighted a spark in his heart that changed his whole character, +and like the unyielding Deity that follows the storm to check its +rage in the forest, he resolves for the first time to shake off +his embarrassment and return where he had before only worshiped. + + +At last we begin to get the Major's measure. We are able to put +this and that casual fact together, and build the man up before +our eyes, and look at him. And after we have got him built, we find +him worth the trouble. By the above comparison between his age +and Ambulinia's, we guess the war-worn veteran to be twenty-two; +and the other facts stand thus: he had grown up in the Cherokee +country with the same equal proportions as one of the natives-- +how flowing and graceful the language, and yet how tantalizing +as to meaning!--he had been turned adrift by his father, to whom he +had been "somewhat of a dutiful son"; he wandered in distant lands; +came back frequently "to the scenes of his boyhood, almost destitute +of many of the comforts of life," in order to get into the presence +of his father's winter-worn locks, and spread a humid veil of +darkness around his expectations; but he was always promptly sent +back to the cold charity of the combat again; he learned to play +the fiddle, and made a name for himself in that line; he had dwelt +among the wild tribes; he had philosophized about the despoilers +of the kingdoms of the earth, and found out--the cunning creature-- +that they refer their differences to the learned for settlement; +he had achieved a vast fame as a military chieftain, the Achilles +of the Florida campaigns, and then had got him a spelling-book +and started to school; he had fallen in love with Ambulinia Valeer +while she was teething, but had kept it to himself awhile, out of +the reverential awe which he felt for the child; but now at last, +like the unyielding Deity who follows the storm to check its rage in +the forest, he resolves to shake off his embarrassment, and to return +where before he had only worshiped. The Major, indeed, has made up +his mind to rise up and shake his faculties together, and to see +if HE can't do that thing himself. This is not clear. But no matter +about that: there stands the hero, compact and visible; and he is +no mean structure, considering that his creator had never structure, +considering that his creator had never created anything before, +and hadn't anything but rags and wind to build with this time. +It seems to me that no one can contemplate this odd creature, this quaint +and curious blatherskite, without admiring McClintock, or, at any rate, +loving him and feeling grateful to him; for McClintock made him, +he gave him to us; without McClintock we could not have had him, +and would now be poor. + +But we must come to the feast again. Here is a courtship scene, down +there in the romantic glades among the raccoons, alligators, and things, +that has merit, peculiar literary merit. See how Achilles woos. +Dwell upon the second sentence (particularly the close of it) and the +beginning of the third. Never mind the new personage, Leos, who is +intruded upon us unheralded and unexplained. That is McClintock's way; +it is his habit; it is a part of his genius; he cannot help it; +he never interrupts the rush of his narrative to make introductions. + + +It could not escape Ambulinia's penetrating eye that he sought +an interview with her, which she as anxiously avoided, and assumed +a more distant calmness than before, seemingly to destroy all hope. +After many efforts and struggles with his own person, with timid +steps the Major approached the damsel, with the same caution +as he would have done in a field of battle. "Lady Ambulinia," +said he, trembling, "I have long desired a moment like this. +I dare not let it escape. I fear the consequences; yet I hope +your indulgence will at least hear my petition. Can you not +anticipate what I would say, and what I am about to express? +Will not you, like Minerva, who sprung from the brain of Jupiter, +release me from thy winding chains or cure me--" "Say no more, +Elfonzo," answered Ambulinia, with a serious look, raising her hand +as if she intended to swear eternal hatred against the whole world; +"another lady in my place would have perhaps answered your question +in bitter coldness. I know not the little arts of my sex. +I care but little for the vanity of those who would chide me, +and am unwilling as well as ashamed to be guilty of anything +that would lead you to think 'all is not gold that glitters'; +so be no rash in your resolution. It is better to repent now, +than to do it in a more solemn hour. Yes, I know what you would say. +I know you have a costly gift for me--the noblest that man can make-- +YOUR HEART! You should not offer it to one so unworthy. +Heaven, you know, has allowed my father's house to be made a house +of solitude, a home of silent obedience, which my parents say +is more to be admired than big names and high-sounding titles. +Notwithstanding all this, let me speak the emotions of an honest heart-- +allow me to say in the fullness of my hopes that I anticipate +better days. The bird may stretch its wings toward the sun, +which it can never reach; and flowers of the field appear to +ascend in the same direction, because they cannot do otherwise; +but man confides his complaints to the saints in whom he believes; +for in their abodes of light they know no more sorrow. From your +confession and indicative looks, I must be that person; if so deceive +not yourself." + +Elfonzo replied, "Pardon me, my dear madam, for my frankness. +I have loved you from my earliest days--everything grand and beautiful +hath borne the image of Ambulinia; while precipices on every hand +surrounded me, your GUARDIAN ANGEL stood and beckoned me away from +the deep abyss. In every trial, in every misfortune, I have met +with your helping hand; yet I never dreamed or dared to cherish +thy love, till a voice impaired with age encouraged the cause, +and declared they who acquired thy favor should win a victory. +I saw how Leos worshiped thee. I felt my own unworthiness. +I began to KNOW JEALOUSLY, a strong guest--indeed, in my bosom,-- +yet I could see if I gained your admiration Leos was to be my rival. +I was aware that he had the influence of your parents, and the wealth +of a deceased relative, which is too often mistaken for permanent +and regular tranquillity; yet I have determined by your permission +to beg an interest in your prayers--to ask you to animate my drooping +spirits by your smiles and your winning looks; for if you but speak +I shall be conqueror, my enemies shall stagger like Olympus shakes. +And though earth and sea may tremble, and the charioteer of the sun +may forget his dashing steed, yet I am assured that it is only +to arm me with divine weapons which will enable me to complete my +long-tried intention." + +"Return to yourself, Elfonzo," said Ambulinia, pleasantly: "a dream +of vision has disturbed your intellect; you are above the atmosphere, +dwelling in the celestial regions; nothing is there that urges +or hinders, nothing that brings discord into our present litigation. +I entreat you to condescend a little, and be a man, and forget it all. +When Homer describes the battle of the gods and noble men fighting +with giants and dragons, they represent under this image our struggles +with the delusions of our passions. You have exalted me, an unhappy girl, +to the skies; you have called me a saint, and portrayed in your +imagination an angel in human form. Let her remain such to you, +let her continue to be as you have supposed, and be assured that she +will consider a share in your esteem as her highest treasure. +Think not that I would allure you from the path in which your +conscience leads you; for you know I respect the conscience of others, +as I would die for my own. Elfonzo, if I am worthy of thy love, +let such conversation never again pass between us. Go, seek a nobler +theme! we will seek it in the stream of time, as the sun set in +the Tigris." As she spake these words she grasped the hand of Elfonzo, +saying at the same time--"Peace and prosperity attend you, my hero; +be up and doing!" Closing her remarks with this expression, +she walked slowly away, leaving Elfonzo astonished and amazed. +He ventured not to follow or detain her. Here he stood alone, +gazing at the stars; confounded as he was, here he stood. + + +Yes; there he stood. There seems to be no doubt about that. +Nearly half of this delirious story has now been delivered to the reader. +It seems a pity to reduce the other half to a cold synopsis. +Pity! it is more than a pity, it is a crime; for to synopsize McClintock +is to reduce a sky-flushing conflagration to dull embers, it is to +reduce barbaric splendor to ragged poverty. McClintock never wrote +a line that was not precious; he never wrote one that could be spared; +he never framed one from which a word could be removed without damage. +Every sentence that this master has produced may be likened to a +perfect set of teeth, white, uniform, beautiful. If you pull one, +the charm is gone. + +Still, it is now necessary to begin to pull, and to keep it up; +for lack of space requires us to synopsize. + +We left Elfonzo standing there amazed. At what, we do not know. +Not at the girl's speech. No; we ourselves should have been +amazed at it, of course, for none of us has ever heard anything +resembling it; but Elfonzo was used to speeches made up of noise +and vacancy, and could listen to them with undaunted mind like +the "topmost topaz of an ancient tower"; he was used to making +them himself; he--but let it go, it cannot be guessed out; we shall +never know what it was that astonished him. He stood there awhile; +then he said, "Alas! am I now Grief's disappointed son at last?" +He did not stop to examine his mind, and to try to find out what +he probably meant by that, because, for one reason, "a mixture +of ambition and greatness of soul moved upon his young heart," +and started him for the village. He resumed his bench in school, +"and reasonably progressed in his education." His heart was heavy, +but he went into society, and sought surcease of sorrow in its +light distractions. He made himself popular with his violin, +"which seemed to have a thousand chords--more symphonious than the +Muses of Apollo, and more enchanting than the ghost of the Hills." +This is obscure, but let it go. + +During this interval Leos did some unencouraged courting, but at last, +"choked by his undertaking," he desisted. + +Presently "Elfonzo again wends his way to the stately walls and +new-built village." He goes to the house of his beloved; she opens +the door herself. To my surprise--for Ambulinia's heart had still +seemed free at the time of their last interview--love beamed from the +girl's eyes. One sees that Elfonzo was surprised, too; for when he caught +that light, "a halloo of smothered shouts ran through every vein." +A neat figure--a very neat figure, indeed! Then he kissed her. +"The scene was overwhelming." They went into the parlor. The girl +said it was safe, for her parents were abed, and would never know. +Then we have this fine picture--flung upon the canvas with hardly +an effort, as you will notice. + + +Advancing toward him, she gave a bright display of her rosy neck, +and from her head the ambrosial locks breathed divine fragrance; +her robe hung waving to his view, while she stood like a goddess +confessed before him. + + +There is nothing of interest in the couple's interview. Now at this +point the girl invites Elfonzo to a village show, where jealousy is +the motive of the play, for she wants to teach him a wholesome lesson, +if he is a jealous person. But this is a sham, and pretty shallow. +McClintock merely wants a pretext to drag in a plagiarism of his upon +a scene or two in "Othello." + +The lovers went to the play. Elfonzo was one of the fiddlers. +He and Ambulinia must not been seen together, lest trouble follow with +the girl's malignant father; we are made to understand that clearly. +So the two sit together in the orchestra, in the midst of the musicians. +This does not seem to be good art. In the first place, the girl would +be in the way, for orchestras are always packed closely together, +and there is no room to spare for people's girls; in the next place, +one cannot conceal a girl in an orchestra without everybody taking +notice of it. There can be no doubt, it seems to me, that this is +bad art. + +Leos is present. Of course, one of the first things that catches +his eye is the maddening spectacle of Ambulinia "leaning upon +Elfonzo's chair." This poor girl does not seem to understand even +the rudiments of concealment. But she is "in her seventeenth," +as the author phrases it, and that is her justification. + +Leos meditates, constructs a plan--with personal violence as a basis, +of course. It was their way down there. It is a good plain plan, +without any imagination in it. He will go out and stand at the +front door, and when these two come out he will "arrest Ambulinia +from the hands of the insolent Elfonzo," and thus make for himself +a "more prosperous field of immortality than ever was decreed +by Omnipotence, or ever pencil drew or artist imagined." But, dear me, +while he is waiting there the couple climb out at the back window +and scurry home! This is romantic enough, but there is a lack +of dignity in the situation. + +At this point McClintock puts in the whole of his curious play-- +which we skip. + +Some correspondence follows now. The bitter father and the +distressed lovers write the letters. Elopements are attempted. +They are idiotically planned, and they fail. Then we have several +pages of romantic powwow and confusion dignifying nothing. +Another elopement is planned; it is to take place on Sunday, +when everybody is at church. But the "hero" cannot keep the secret; +he tells everybody. Another author would have found another +instrument when he decided to defeat this elopement; but that is +not McClintock's way. He uses the person that is nearest at hand. + +The evasion failed, of course. Ambulinia, in her flight, +takes refuge in a neighbor's house. Her father drags her home. +The villagers gather, attracted by the racket. + + +Elfonzo was moved at this sight. The people followed on to see +what was going to become of Ambulinia, while he, with downcast looks, +kept at a distance, until he saw them enter the abode of the father, +thrusting her, that was the sigh of his soul, out of his presence +into a solitary apartment, when she exclaimed, "Elfonzo! Elfonzo! oh, +Elfonzo! where art thou, with all thy heroes? haste, oh! haste, +come thou to my relief. Ride on the wings of the wind! Turn thy +force loose like a tempest, and roll on thy army like a whirlwind, +over this mountain of trouble and confusion. Oh friends! if any +pity me, let your last efforts throng upon the green hills, +and come to the relief of Ambulinia, who is guilty of nothing +but innocent love." Elfonzo called out with a loud voice, "My God, +can I stand this! arouse up, I beseech you, and put an end to +this tyranny. Come, my brave boys," said he, "are you ready to go +forth to your duty?" They stood around him. "Who," said he, +"will call us to arms? Where are my thunderbolts of war? Speak ye, +the first who will meet the foe! Who will go forward with me +in this ocean of grievous temptation? If there is one who desires +to go, let him come and shake hands upon the altar of devotion, +and swear that he will be a hero; yes, a Hector in a cause like this, +which calls aloud for a speedy remedy." "Mine be the deed," +said a young lawyer, "and mine alone; Venus alone shall quit her +station before I will forsake one jot or tittle of my promise to you; +what is death to me? what is all this warlike army, if it is not +to win a victory? I love the sleep of the lover and the mighty; +nor would I give it over till the blood of my enemies should wreak +with that of my own. But God forbid that our fame should soar +on the blood of the slumberer." Mr. Valeer stands at his door +with the frown of a demon upon his brow, with his dangerous weapon +[3] ready to strike the first man who should enter his door. +"Who will arise and go forward through blood and carnage to the rescue +of my Ambulinia?" said Elfonzo. "All," exclaimed the multitude; +and onward they went, with their implements of battle. Others, of a +more timid nature, stood among the distant hills to see the result of +the contest. + + +It will hardly be believed that after all this thunder and lightning +not a drop of rain fell; but such is the fact. Elfonzo and his +gang stood up and black-guarded Mr. Valeer with vigor all night, +getting their outlay back with interest; then in the early +morning the army and its general retired from the field, +leaving the victory with their solitary adversary and his crowbar. +This is the first time this has happened in romantic literature. +The invention is original. Everything in this book is original; +there is nothing hackneyed about it anywhere. Always, in other +romances, when you find the author leading up to a climax, +you know what is going to happen. But in this book it is different; +the thing which seems inevitable and unavoidable never happens; +it is circumvented by the art of the author every time. + +Another elopement was attempted. It failed. + +We have now arrived at the end. But it is not exciting. +McClintock thinks it is; but it isn't. One day Elfonzo sent Ambulinia +another note--a note proposing elopement No. 16. This time the plan +is admirable; admirable, sagacious, ingenious, imaginative, deep-- +oh, everything, and perfectly easy. One wonders why it was never +thought of before. This is the scheme. Ambulinia is to leave the +breakfast-table, ostensibly to "attend to the placing of those flowers, +which should have been done a week ago"--artificial ones, of course; +the others wouldn't keep so long--and then, instead of fixing +the flowers, she is to walk out to the grove, and go off with Elfonzo. +The invention of this plan overstrained the author that is plain, +for he straightway shows failing powers. The details of the plan +are not many or elaborate. The author shall state them himself-- +this good soul, whose intentions are always better than his English: + + +"You walk carelessly toward the academy grove, where you will find +me with a lightning steed, elegantly equipped to bear you off +where we shall be joined in wedlock with the first connubial rights." + + +Last scene of all, which the author, now much enfeebled, +tries to smarten up and make acceptable to his spectacular heart +by introducing some new properties--silver bow, golden harp, +olive branch--things that can all come good in an elopement, +no doubt, yet are not to be compared to an umbrella for real +handiness and reliability in an excursion of that kind. + + +And away she ran to the sacred grove, surrounded with glittering pearls, +that indicated her coming. Elfonzo hails her with his silver bow +and his golden harp. They meet--Ambulinia's countenance brightens-- +Elfonzo leads up the winged steed. "Mount," said he, "ye true-hearted, +ye fearless soul--the day is ours." She sprang upon the back +of the young thunderbolt, a brilliant star sparkles upon her head, +with one hand she grasps the reins, and with the other she holds +an olive branch. "Lend thy aid, ye strong winds," they exclaimed, +"ye moon, ye sun, and all ye fair host of heaven, witness the +enemy conquered." "Hold," said Elfonzo, "thy dashing steed." +"Ride on," said Ambulinia, "the voice of thunder is behind us." +And onward they went, with such rapidity that they very soon arrived +at Rural Retreat, where they dismounted, and were united with all +the solemnities that usually attended such divine operations. + + +There is but one Homer, there is but one Shakespeare, there is but +one McClintock--and his immortal book is before you. Homer could +not have written this book, Shakespeare could not have written it, +I could not have done it myself. There is nothing just like it +in the literature of any country or of any epoch. It stands alone; +it is monumental. It adds G. Ragsdale McClintock's to the sum of +the republic's imperishable names. + +- - - + +1. The name here given is a substitute for the one actually +attached to the pamphlet. + +2. Further on it will be seen that he is a country expert +on the fiddle, and has a three-township fame. + +3. It is a crowbar. + + +*** + + + +THE CURIOUS BOOK + + +Complete + + + +[The foregoing review of the great work of G. Ragsdale McClintock is +liberally illuminated with sample extracts, but these cannot appease +the appetite. Only the complete book, unabridged, can do that. +Therefore it is here printed.--M.T.] + + + +THE ENEMY CONQUERED; OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT + + + +Sweet girl, thy smiles are full of charms, + +Thy voice is sweeter still, + +It fills the breast with fond alarms, + +Echoed by every rill. + + +I begin this little work with an eulogy upon woman, who has ever +been distinguished for her perseverance, her constancy, and her +devoted attention to those upon whom she has been pleased to place +her AFFECTIONS. Many have been the themes upon which writers and +public speakers have dwelt with intense and increasing interest. +Among these delightful themes stands that of woman, the balm +to all our sighs and disappointments, and the most pre-eminent +of all other topics. Here the poet and orator have stood and gazed +with wonder and with admiration; they have dwelt upon her innocence, +the ornament of all her virtues. First viewing her external charms, +such as set forth in her form and benevolent countenance, and then passing +to the deep hidden springs of loveliness and disinterested devotion. +In every clime, and in every age, she has been the pride of her NATION. +Her watchfulness is untiring; she who guarded the sepulcher was +the first to approach it, and the last to depart from its awful +yet sublime scene. Even here, in this highly favored land, +we look to her for the security of our institutions, and for our +future greatness as a nation. But, strange as it may appear, +woman's charms and virtues are but slightly appreciated by thousands. +Those who should raise the standard of female worth, and paint her +value with her virtues, in living colors, upon the banners that are +fanned by the zephyrs of heaven, and hand them down to posterity +as emblematical of a rich inheritance, do not properly estimate them. + +Man is not sensible, at all times, of the nature and the emotions +which bear that name; he does not understand, he will not comprehend; +his intelligence has not expanded to that degree of glory which +drinks in the vast revolution of humanity, its end, its mighty +destination, and the causes which operated, and are still operating, +to produce a more elevated station, and the objects which energize +and enliven its consummation. This he is a stranger to; +he is not aware that woman is the recipient of celestial love, +and that man is dependent upon her to perfect his character; +that without her, philosophically and truly speaking, the brightest +of his intelligence is but the coldness of a winter moon, +whose beams can produce no fruit, whose solar light is not its own, +but borrowed from the great dispenser of effulgent beauty. +We have no disposition in the world to flatter the fair sex, +we would raise them above those dastardly principles which only +exist in little souls, contracted hearts, and a distracted brain. +Often does she unfold herself in all her fascinating loveliness, +presenting the most captivating charms; yet we find man frequently +treats such purity of purpose with indifference. Why does he do it? +Why does he baffle that which is inevitably the source of his +better days? Is he so much of a stranger to those excellent qualities +as not to appreciate woman, as not to have respect to her dignity? +Since her art and beauty first captivated man, she has been his +delight and his comfort; she has shared alike in his misfortunes +and in his prosperity. + +Whenever the billows of adversity and the tumultuous waves of trouble +beat high, her smiles subdue their fury. Should the tear of sorrow +and the mournful sigh of grief interrupt the peace of his mind, +her voice removes them all, and she bends from her circle to encourage +him onward. When darkness would obscure his mind, and a thick cloud +of gloom would bewilder its operations, her intelligent eye darts +a ray of streaming light into his heart. Mighty and charming is that +disinterested devotion which she is ever ready to exercise toward man, +not waiting till the last moment of his danger, but seeks to relieve +him in his early afflictions. It gushes forth from the expansive +fullness of a tender and devoted heart, where the noblest, the purest, +and the most elevated and refined feelings are matured and developed +in those may kind offices which invariably make her character. + +In the room of sorrow and sickness, this unequaled characteristic +may always been seen, in the performance of the most charitable acts; +nothing that she can do to promote the happiness of him who she +claims to be her protector will be omitted; all is invigorated by +the animating sunbeams which awaken the heart to songs of gaiety. +Leaving this point, to notice another prominent consideration, +which is generally one of great moment and of vital importance. +Invariably she is firm and steady in all her pursuits and aims. +There is required a combination of forces and extreme opposition to +drive her from her position; she takes her stand, not to be moved by +the sound of Apollo's lyre or the curved bow of pleasure. + +Firm and true to what she undertakes, and that which she requires +by her own aggrandizement, and regards as being within the strict rules +of propriety, she will remain stable and unflinching to the last. +A more genuine principle is not to be found in the most determined, +resolute heart of man. For this she deserves to be held in the +highest commendation, for this she deserves the purest of all +other blessings, and for this she deserves the most laudable reward +of all others. It is a noble characteristic and is worthy of imitation +of any age. And when we look at it in one particular aspect, +it is still magnified, and grows brighter and brighter the more we +reflect upon its eternal duration. What will she not do, when her +word as well as her affections and LOVE are pledged to her lover? +Everything that is dear to her on earth, all the hospitalities +of kind and loving parents, all the sincerity and loveliness +of sisters, and the benevolent devotion of brothers, who have +surrounded her with every comfort; she will forsake them all, +quit the harmony and sweet sound of the lute and the harp, +and throw herself upon the affections of some devoted admirer, +in whom she fondly hopes to find more than she has left behind, +which is not often realized by many. Truth and virtue all combined! +How deserving our admiration and love! Ah cruel would it be in man, +after she has thus manifested such an unshaken confidence in him, +and said by her determination to abandon all the endearments and +blandishments of home, to act a villainous part, and prove a traitor +in the revolution of his mission, and then turn Hector over the +innocent victim whom he swore to protect, in the presence of Heaven, +recorded by the pen of an angel. + +Striking as this train may unfold itself in her character, +and as pre-eminent as it may stand among the fair display of her +other qualities, yet there is another, which struggles into existence, +and adds an additional luster to what she already possesses. +I mean that disposition in woman which enables her, in sorrow, +in grief, and in distress, to bear all with enduring patience. +This she has done, and can and will do, amid the din of war and +clash of arms. Scenes and occurrences which, to every appearance, +are calculated to rend the heart with the profoundest emotions of trouble, +do not fetter that exalted principle imbued in her very nature. +It is true, her tender and feeling heart may often be moved (as she +is thus constituted), but she is not conquered, she has not given up +to the harlequin of disappointments, her energies have not become +clouded in the last movement of misfortune, but she is continually +invigorated by the archetype of her affections. She may bury her face +in her hands, and let the tear of anguish roll, she may promenade +the delightful walks of some garden, decorated with all the flowers +of nature, or she may steal out along some gently rippling stream, +and there, as the silver waters uninterruptedly move forward, +shed her silent tears; they mingle with the waves, and take a last +farewell of their agitated home, to seek a peaceful dwelling among +the rolling floods; yet there is a voice rushing from her breast, +that proclaims VICTORY along the whole line and battlement of +her affections. That voice is the voice of patience and resignation; +that voice is one that bears everything calmly and dispassionately, +amid the most distressing scenes; when the fates are arrayed against +her peace, and apparently plotting for her destruction, still she +is resigned. + +Woman's affections are deep, consequently her troubles may be made +to sink deep. Although you may not be able to mark the traces of her +grief and the furrowings of her anguish upon her winning countenance, +yet be assured they are nevertheless preying upon her inward person, +sapping the very foundation of that heart which alone was made +for the weal and not the woe of man. The deep recesses of the soul +are fields for their operation. But they are not destined simply +to take the regions of the heart for their dominion, they are not +satisfied merely with interrupting her better feelings; but after +a while you may see the blooming cheek beginning to droop and fade, +her intelligent eye no longer sparkles with the starry light of heaven, +her vibrating pulse long since changed its regular motion, and her +palpitating bosom beats once more for the midday of her glory. +Anxiety and care ultimately throw her into the arms of the haggard +and grim monster death. But, oh, how patient, under every +pining influence! Let us view the matter in bolder colors; +see her when the dearest object of her affections recklessly seeks +every bacchanalian pleasure, contents himself with the last rubbish +of creation. With what solicitude she awaits his return! Sleep fails +to perform its office--she weeps while the nocturnal shades of the +night triumph in the stillness. Bending over some favorite book, +whilst the author throws before her mind the most beautiful imagery, +she startles at every sound. The midnight silence is broken +by the solemn announcement of the return of another morning. +He is still absent; she listens for that voice which has so often +been greeted by the melodies of her own; but, alas! stern silence +is all that she receives for her vigilance. + +Mark her unwearied watchfulness, as the night passes away. +At last, brutalized by the accursed thing, he staggers along +with rage, and, shivering with cold, he makes his appearance. +Not a murmur is heard from her lips. On the contrary, she meets him +with a smile--she caresses him with tender arms, with all the gentleness +and softness of her sex. Here, then, is seen her disposition, +beautifully arrayed. Woman, thou art more to be admired than the spicy +gales of Arabia, and more sought for than the gold of Golconda. +We believe that Woman should associate freely with man, and we believe +that it is for the preservation of her rights. She should become +acquainted with the metaphysical designs of those who condescended +to sing the siren song of flattery. This, we think, should be +according to the unwritten law of decorum, which is stamped upon +every innocent heart. The precepts of prudery are often steeped +in the guilt of contamination, which blasts the expectations of +better moments. Truth, and beautiful dreams--loveliness, and delicacy +of character, with cherished affections of the ideal woman-- +gentle hopes and aspirations, are enough to uphold her in the storms +of darkness, without the transferred colorings of a stained sufferer. +How often have we seen it in our public prints, that woman occupies +a false station in the world! and some have gone so far as to say it +was an unnatural one. So long has she been regarded a weak creature, +by the rabble and illiterate--they have looked upon her as an +insufficient actress on the great stage of human life--a mere puppet, +to fill up the drama of human existence--a thoughtless, inactive being-- +that she has too often come to the same conclusion herself, and has +sometimes forgotten her high destination, in the meridian of her glory. +We have but little sympathy or patience for those who treat her as +a mere Rosy Melindi--who are always fishing for pretty complements-- +who are satisfied by the gossamer of Romance, and who can be +allured by the verbosity of high-flown words, rich in language, +but poor and barren in sentiment. Beset, as she has been, by the +intellectual vulgar, the selfish, the designing, the cunning, the hidden, +and the artful--no wonder she has sometimes folded her wings in despair, +and forgotten her HEAVENLY mission in the delirium of imagination; +no wonder she searches out some wild desert, to find a peaceful home. +But this cannot always continue. A new era is moving gently onward, +old things are rapidly passing away; old superstitions, old prejudices, +and old notions are now bidding farewell to their old associates +and companions, and giving way to one whose wings are plumed +with the light of heaven and tinged by the dews of the morning. +There is a remnant of blessedness that clings to her in spite of all +evil influence, there is enough of the Divine Master left to accomplish +the noblest work ever achieved under the canopy of the vaulted skies; +and that time is fast approaching, when the picture of the true +woman will shine from its frame of glory, to captivate, to win back, +to restore, and to call into being once more, THE OBJECT OF HER MISSION. + + +Star of the brave! thy glory shed, + +O'er all the earth, thy army led-- + +Bold meteor of immortal birth! + +Why come from Heaven to dwell on Earth? + + +Mighty and glorious are the days of youth; happy the moments +of the LOVER, mingled with smiles and tears of his devoted, +and long to be remembered are the achievements which he gains with a +palpitating heart and a trembling hand. A bright and lovely dawn, +the harbinger of a fair and prosperous day, had arisen over the +beautiful little village of Cumming, which is surrounded by the +most romantic scenery in the Cherokee country. Brightening clouds +seemed to rise from the mist of the fair Chattahoochee, to spread +their beauty over the the thick forest, to guide the hero whose +bosom beats with aspirations to conquer the enemy that would tarnish +his name, and to win back the admiration of his long-tried friend. +He endeavored to make his way through Sawney's Mountain, where many meet +to catch the gales that are continually blowing for the refreshment +of the stranger and the traveler. Surrounded as he was by hills +on every side, naked rocks dared the efforts of his energies. +Soon the sky became overcast, the sun buried itself in the clouds, +and the fair day gave place to gloomy twilight, which lay heavily +on the Indian Plains. He remembered an old Indian Castle, +that once stood at the foot of the mountain. He thought if he could +make his way to this, he would rest contented for a short time. +The mountain air breathed fragrance--a rosy tinge rested on the glassy +waters that murmured at its base. His resolution soon brought him +to the remains of the red man's hut: he surveyed with wonder and +astonishment the decayed building, which time had buried in the dust, +and thought to himself, his happiness was not yet complete. +Beside the shore of the brook sat a young man, about eighteen or twenty, +who seemed to be reading some favorite book, and who had a remarkably +noble countenance--eyes which betrayed more than a common mind. +This of course made the youth a welcome guest, and gained him +friends in whatever condition of life he might be placed. +The traveler observed that he was a well-built figure, which showed +strength and grace in every movement. He accordingly addressed +him in quite a gentlemanly manner, and inquired of him the way +to the village. After he had received the desired information, +and was about taking his leave, the youth said, "Are you not +Major Elfonzo, the great musician--the champion of a noble cause-- +the modern Achilles, who gained so many victories in the Florida War?" +"I bear that name," said the Major, "and those titles, +trusting at the same time that the ministers of grace will carry +me triumphantly through all my laudable undertakings, and if," +continued the Major, "you, sir, are the patronizer of noble deeds, +I should like to make you my confidant and learn your address." +The youth looked somewhat amazed, bowed low, mused for a moment, +and began: "My name is Roswell. I have been recently admitted +to the bar, and can only give a faint outline of my future success +in that honorable profession; but I trust, sir, like the Eagle, +I shall look down from lofty rocks upon the dwellings of man, and shall +ever be ready to give you any assistance in my official capacity, +and whatever this muscular arm of mine can do, whenever it shall be +called from its buried GREATNESS." The Major grasped him by the hand, +and exclaimed: "O! thou exalted spirit of inspiration--thou flame +of burning prosperity, may the Heaven-directed blaze be the glare +of thy soul, and battle down every rampart that seems to impede +your progress!" + +The road which led to the town presented many attractions. +Elfonzo had bid farewell to the youth of deep feeling, and was +not wending his way to the dreaming spot of his fondness. +The south winds whistled through the woods, as the waters dashed +against the banks, as rapid fire in the pent furnace roars. +This brought him to remember while alone, that he quietly left behind +the hospitality of a father's house, and gladly entered the world, +with higher hopes than are often realized. But as he journeyed onward, +he was mindful of the advice of his father, who had often looked +sadly on the ground when tears of cruelly deceived hope moistened +his eye. Elfonzo had been somewhat of a dutiful son; yet fond +of the amusements of life--had been in distant lands--had enjoyed +the pleasure of the world and had frequently returned to the scenes +of his boyhood, almost destitute of many of the comforts of life. +In this condition, he would frequently say to his father, "Have I +offended you, that you look upon me as a stranger, and frown upon +me with stinging looks? Will you not favor me with the sound of +your voice? If I have trampled upon your veneration, or have spread +a humid veil of darkness around your expectations, send me back into +the world where no heart beats for me--where the foot of man has +never yet trod; but give me at least one kind word--allow me to come +into the presence sometimes of thy winter-worn locks." "Forbid it, +Heaven, that I should be angry with thee," answered the father, +"my son, and yet I send thee back to the children of the world-- +to the cold charity of the combat, and to a land of victory. I read +another destiny in thy countenance--I learn thy inclinations from +the flame that has already kindled in my soul a stranger sensation. +It will seek thee, my dear ELFONZO, it will find thee--thou canst +not escape that lighted torch, which shall blot out from the +remembrance of men a long train of prophecies which they have +foretold against thee. I once thought not so. Once, I was blind; +but now the path of life is plain before me, and my sight is clear; +yet Elfonzo, return to thy worldly occupation--take again in thy +hand that chord of sweet sounds--struggle with the civilized world, +and with your own heart; fly swiftly to the enchanted ground-- +let the night-OWL send forth its screams from the stubborn oak-- +let the sea sport upon the beach, and the stars sing together; +but learn of these, Elfonzo, thy doom, and thy hiding-place. Our most +innocent as well as our most lawful DESIRES must often be denied us, +that we may learn to sacrifice them to a Higher will." + +Remembering such admonitions with gratitude, Elfonzo was immediately +urged by the recollection of his father's family to keep moving. +His steps became quicker and quicker--he hastened through the PINY woods, +dark as the forest was, and with joy he very soon reached the little +village or repose, in whose bosom rested the boldest chivalry. +His close attention to every important object--his modest questions +about whatever was new to him--his reverence for wise old age, +and his ardent desire to learn many of the fine arts, soon brought him +into respectable notice. + +One mild winter day as he walked along the streets toward the Academy, +which stood upon a small eminence, surrounded by native growth-- +some venerable in its appearance, others young and prosperous-- +all seemed inviting, and seemed to be the very place for learning as +well as for genius to spend its research beneath its spreading shades. +He entered its classic walls in the usual mode of southern manners. +The principal of the Institution begged him to be seated and listen +to the recitations that were going on. He accordingly obeyed +the request, and seemed to be much pleased. After the school +was dismissed, and the young hearts regained their freedom, +with the songs of the evening, laughing at the anticipated pleasures +of a happy home, while others tittered at the actions of the past day, +he addressed the teacher in a tone that indicated a resolution-- +with an undaunted mind. He said he had determined to become +a student, if he could meet with his approbation. "Sir," said he, +"I have spent much time in the world. I have traveled among +the uncivilized inhabitants of America. I have met with friends, +and combated with foes; but none of these gratify my ambition, +or decide what is to be my destiny. I see the learned would +have an influence with the voice of the people themselves. +The despoilers of the remotest kingdoms of the earth refer their +differences to this class of persons. This the illiterate and +inexperienced little dream of; and now if you will receive me as I am, +with these deficiencies--with all my misguided opinions, I will give +you my honor, sir, that I will never disgrace the Institution, +or those who have placed you in this honorable station." +The instructor, who had met with many disappointments, knew how to +feel for a stranger who had been thus turned upon the charities +of an unfeeling community. He looked at him earnestly, and said: +"Be of good cheer--look forward, sir, to the high destination you +may attain. Remember, the more elevated the mark at which you aim, +the more sure, the more glorious, the more magnificent the prize." +From wonder to wonder, his encouragement led the impatient listener. +A stranger nature bloomed before him--giant streams promised +him success--gardens of hidden treasures opened to his view. +All this, so vividly described, seemed to gain a new witchery from his +glowing fancy. + +In 1842 he entered the class, and made rapid progress in the English +and Latin departments. Indeed, he continued advancing with such +rapidity that he was like to become the first in his class, +and made such unexpected progress, and was so studious, that he had +almost forgotten the pictured saint of his affections. The fresh +wreaths of the pine and cypress had waited anxiously to drop once +more the dews of Heavens upon the heads of those who had so often +poured forth the tender emotions of their souls under its boughs. +He was aware of the pleasure that he had seen there. So one evening, +as he was returning from his reading, he concluded he would pay a visit +to this enchanting spot. Little did he think of witnessing a shadow +of his former happiness, though no doubt he wished it might be so. +He continued sauntering by the roadside, meditating on the past. +The nearer he approached the spot, the more anxious he became. +At the moment a tall female figure flitted across his path, with a +bunch of roses in her hand; her countenance showed uncommon vivacity, +with a resolute spirit; her ivory teeth already appeared as she +smiled beautifully, promenading--while her ringlets of hair dangled +unconsciously around her snowy neck. Nothing was wanting to complete +her beauty. The tinge of the rose was in full bloom upon her cheek; +the charms of sensibility and tenderness were always her associates.. +In Ambulinia's bosom dwelt a noble soul--one that never faded-- +one that never was conquered. Her heart yielded to no feeling +but the love of Elfonzo, on whom she gazed with intense delight, +and to whom she felt herself more closely bound, because he sought +the hand of no other. Elfonzo was roused from his apparent reverie. +His books no longer were his inseparable companions--his thoughts +arrayed themselves to encourage him in the field of victory. +He endeavored to speak to his supposed Ambulinia, but his speech +appeared not in words. No, his effort was a stream of fire, +that kindled his soul into a flame of admiration, and carried +his senses away captive. Ambulinia had disappeared, to make him +more mindful of his duty. As she walked speedily away through +the piny woods she calmly echoed: "O! Elfonzo, thou wilt +now look from thy sunbeams. Thou shalt now walk in a new path-- +perhaps thy way leads through darkness; but fear not, the stars +foretell happiness." + +Not many days afterward, as surrounded by fragrant flowers she sat +one evening at twilight, to enjoy the cool breeze that whispered +notes of melody along the distant groves, the little birds perched +on every side, as if to watch the movements of their new visitor. +The bells were tolling when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild +wood flowers, holding in his hand his favorite instrument of music-- +his eye continually searching for Ambulinia, who hardly seemed +to perceive him, as she played carelessly with the songsters +that hopped from branch to branch. Nothing could be more striking +than the difference between the two. Nature seemed to have given +the more tender soul to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous +to Ambulinia. A deep feeling spoke from the eyes of Elfonzo-- +such a feeling as can only be expressed by those who are blessed +as admirers, and by those who are able to return the same with +sincerity of heart. He was a few years older than Ambulinia: +she had turned a little into her seventeenth. He had almost grown +up in the Cherokee country, with the same equal proportions as one +of the natives. But little intimacy had existed between them until +the year forty-one--because the youth felt that the character of such +a lovely girl was too exalted to inspire any other feeling than +that of quiet reverence. But as lovers will not always be insulted, +at all times and under all circumstances, by the frowns and cold +looks of crabbed old age, which should continually reflect dignity +upon those around, and treat unfortunate as well as the fortunate +with a graceful mien, he continued to use diligence and perseverance. +All this lighted a spark in his heart that changed his whole character, +and like the unyielding Deity that follows the storm to check its +rage in the forest, he resolves for the first time to shake off +his embarrassment and return where he had before only worshiped. + +It could not escape Ambulinia's penetrating eye that he sought +an interview with her, which she as anxiously avoided, and assumed +a more distant calmness than before, seemingly to destroy all hope. +After many efforts and struggles with his own person, with timid +steps the Major approached the damsel, with the same caution +as he would have done in a field of battle. "Lady Ambulinia," +said he, trembling, "I have long desired a moment like this. +I dare not let it escape. I fear the consequences; yet I hope +your indulgence will at least hear my petition. Can you not +anticipate what I would say, and what I am about to express? +Will not you, like Minerva, who sprung from the brain of Jupiter, +release me from thy winding chains or cure me--" "Say no more, +Elfonzo," answered Ambulinia, with a serious look, raising her hand +as if she intended to swear eternal hatred against the whole world; +"another lady in my place would have perhaps answered your question +in bitter coldness. I know not the little arts of my sex. +I care but little for the vanity of those who would chide me, +and am unwilling as well as shamed to be guilty of anything +that would lead you to think 'all is not gold that glitters'; +so be not rash in your resolution. It is better to repent now than +to do it in a more solemn hour. Yes, I know what you would say. +I know you have a costly gift for me--the noblest that man can make-- +YOUR HEART! you should not offer it to one so unworthy. +Heaven, you know, has allowed my father's house to be made a house +of solitude, a home of silent obedience, which my parents say +is more to be admired than big names and high-sounding titles. +Notwithstanding all this, let me speak the emotions of an honest heart; +allow me to say in the fullness of my hopes that I anticipate +better days. The bird may stretch its wings toward the sun, +which it can never reach; and flowers of the field appear to +ascend in the same direction, because they cannot do otherwise; +but man confides his complaints to the saints in whom he believes; +for in their abodes of light they know no more sorrow. From your +confession and indicative looks, I must be that person; if so, +deceive not yourself." + +Elfonzo replied, "Pardon me, my dear madam, for my frankness. +I have loved you from my earliest days; everything grand and beautiful +hath borne the image of Ambulinia; while precipices on every hand +surrounded me, your GUARDIAN ANGEL stood and beckoned me away from +the deep abyss. In every trial, in every misfortune, I have met +with your helping hand; yet I never dreamed or dared to cherish +thy love till a voice impaired with age encouraged the cause, +and declared they who acquired thy favor should win a victory. +I saw how Leos worshipped thee. I felt my own unworthiness. +I began to KNOW JEALOUSY--a strong guest, indeed, in my bosom-- +yet I could see if I gained your admiration Leos was to be my rival. +I was aware that he had the influence of your parents, and the wealth +of a deceased relative, which is too often mistaken for permanent +and regular tranquillity; yet I have determined by your permission +to beg an interest in your prayers--to ask you to animate my dropping +spirits by your smiles and your winning looks; for if you but speak +I shall be conqueror, my enemies shall stagger like Olympus shakes. +And though earth and sea may tremble, and the charioteer of the sun +may forget his dashing steed, yet I am assured that it is only +to arm me with divine weapons which will enable me to complete my +long-tried intention." + +"Return to your self, Elfonzo," said Ambulinia, pleasantly; "a dream +of vision has disturbed your intellect; you are above the atmosphere, +dwelling in the celestial regions; nothing is there that urges +or hinders, nothing that brings discord into our present litigation. +I entreat you to condescend a little, and be a man, and forget it all. +When Homer describes the battle of the gods and noble men fighting +with giants and dragons, they represent under this image our struggles +with the delusions of our passions. You have exalted me, an unhappy girl, +to the skies; you have called me a saint, and portrayed in your +imagination an angel in human form. Let her remain such to you, +let her continue to be as you have supposed, and be assured that she +will consider a share in your esteem as her highest treasure. +Think not that I would allure you from the path in which your +conscience leads you; for you know I respect the conscience of others, +as I would die for my own. Elfonzo, if I am worthy of thy love, +let such conversation never again pass between us. Go, seek a nobler +theme! we will seek it in the stream of time as the sun set in +the Tigris." As she spake these words she grasped the hand of Elfonzo, +saying at the same time, "Peace and prosperity attend you, my hero: +be up and doing!" Closing her remarks with this expression, +she walked slowly away, leaving Elfonzo astonished and amazed. +He ventured not to follow or detain her. Here he stood alone, +gazing at the stars; confounded as he was, here he stood. The rippling +stream rolled on at his feet. Twilight had already begun to draw +her sable mantle over the earth, and now and then the fiery smoke +would ascend from the little town which lay spread out before him. +The citizens seemed to be full of life and good-humor; but poor Elfonzo +saw not a brilliant scene. No; his future life stood before him, +stripped of the hopes that once adorned all his sanguine desires. +"Alas!" said he, "am I now Grief's disappointed son at last." +Ambulinia's image rose before his fancy. A mixture of ambition +and greatness of soul moved upon his young heart, and encouraged +him to bear all his crosses with the patience of a Job, +notwithstanding he had to encounter with so many obstacles. +He still endeavored to prosecute his studies, and reasonable +progressed in his education. Still, he was not content; there was +something yet to be done before his happiness was complete. +He would visit his friends and acquaintances. They would invite him +to social parties, insisting that he should partake of the amusements +that were going on. This he enjoyed tolerably well. The ladies +and gentlemen were generally well pleased with the Major; as he +delighted all with his violin, which seemed to have a thousand chords-- +more symphonious than the Muses of Apollo and more enchanting +than the ghost of the Hills. He passed some days in the country. +During that time Leos had made many calls upon Ambulinia, who was +generally received with a great deal of courtesy by the family. +They thought him to be a young man worthy of attention, though he +had but little in his soul to attract the attention or even win +the affections of her whose graceful manners had almost made +him a slave to every bewitching look that fell from her eyes. +Leos made several attempts to tell her of his fair prospects-- +how much he loved her, and how much it would add to his bliss if he +could but think she would be willing to share these blessings +with him; but, choked by his undertaking, he made himself more like an +inactive drone than he did like one who bowed at beauty's shrine. + +Elfonzo again wends his way to the stately walls and new-built village. +He now determines to see the end of the prophesy which had been +foretold to him. The clouds burst from his sight; he believes +if he can but see his Ambulinia, he can open to her view the bloody +altars that have been misrepresented to stigmatize his name. +He knows that her breast is transfixed with the sword of reason, +and ready at all times to detect the hidden villainy of her enemies. +He resolves to see her in her own home, with the consoling theme: +"'I can but perish if I go.' Let the consequences be what they may," +said he, "if I die, it shall be contending and struggling for my +own rights." + +Night had almost overtaken him when he arrived in town. Colonel Elder, +a noble-hearted, high-minded, and independent man, met him at +his door as usual, and seized him by the hand. "Well, Elfonzo," +said the Colonel, "how does the world use you in your efforts?" +"I have no objection to the world," said Elfonzo, "but the people +are rather singular in some of their opinions." "Aye, well," +said the Colonel, "you must remember that creation is made up of +many mysteries; just take things by the right handle; be always sure +you know which is the smooth side before you attempt your polish; +be reconciled to your fate, be it what it may; and never find fault +with your condition, unless your complaining will benefit it. +Perseverance is a principle that should be commendable in those who have +judgment to govern it. I should never had been so successful in my +hunting excursions had I waited till the deer, by some magic dream, +had been drawn to the muzzle of the gun before I made an attempt to fire +at the game that dared my boldness in the wild forest. The great +mystery in hunting seems to be--a good marksman, a resolute mind, +a fixed determination, and my world for it, you will never return +home without sounding your horn with the breath of a new victory. +And so with every other undertaking. Be confident that your ammunition +is of the right kind--always pull your trigger with a steady hand, +and so soon as you perceive a calm, touch her off, and the spoils +are yours." + +This filled him with redoubled vigor, and he set out with a stronger +anxiety than ever to the home of Ambulinia. A few short steps soon +brought him to the door, half out of breath. He rapped gently. +Ambulinia, who sat in the parlor alone, suspecting Elfonzo was near, +ventured to the door, opened it, and beheld the hero, who stood +in an humble attitude, bowed gracefully, and as they caught each +other's looks the light of peace beamed from the eyes of Ambulinia. +Elfonzo caught the expression; a halloo of smothered shouts ran +through every vein, and for the first time he dared to impress a kiss +upon her cheek. The scene was overwhelming; had the temptation +been less animating, he would not have ventured to have acted +so contrary to the desired wish of his Ambulinia; but who could +have withstood the irrestistable temptation! What society condemns +the practice but a cold, heartless, uncivilized people that know +nothing of the warm attachments of refined society? Here the dead +was raised to his long-cherished hopes, and the lost was found. +Here all doubt and danger were buried in the vortex of oblivion; +sectional differences no longer disunited their opinions; like the freed +bird from the cage, sportive claps its rustling wings, wheels about +to heaven in a joyful strain, and raises its notes to the upper sky. +Ambulinia insisted upon Elfonzo to be seated, and give her a history +of his unnecessary absence; assuring him the family had retired, +consequently they would ever remain ignorant of his visit. +Advancing toward him, she gave a bright display of her rosy neck, +and from her head the ambrosial locks breathed divine fragrance; +her robe hung waving to his view, while she stood like a goddess +confessed before him. + +"It does seem to me, my dear sir," said Ambulinia, "that you have +been gone an age. Oh, the restless hours I have spent since I last +saw you, in yon beautiful grove. There is where I trifled with your +feelings for the express purpose of trying your attachment for me. +I now find you are devoted; but ah! I trust you live not unguarded +by the powers of Heaven. Though oft did I refuse to join my hand +with thine, and as oft did I cruelly mock thy entreaties with +borrowed shapes: yes, I feared to answer thee by terms, in words +sincere and undissembled. O! could I pursue, and you have leisure +to hear the annals of my woes, the evening star would shut Heaven's +gates upon the impending day before my tale would be finished, +and this night would find me soliciting your forgiveness." + +"Dismiss thy fears and thy doubts," replied Elfonzo. + +"Look, O! look: that angelic look of thine--bathe not thy visage +in tears; banish those floods that are gathering; let my confession +and my presence bring thee some relief." "Then, indeed, I will +be cheerful," said Ambulinia, "and I think if we will go to the +exhibition this evening, we certainly will see something worthy +of our attention. One of the most tragical scenes is to be acted +that has ever been witnessed, and one that every jealous-hearted person +should learn a lesson from. It cannot fail to have a good effect, +as it will be performed by those who are young and vigorous, +and learned as well as enticing. You are aware, Major Elfonzo, who are +to appear on the stage, and what the characters are to represent." +"I am acquainted with the circumstances," replied Elfonzo, "and as I +am to be one of the musicians upon that interesting occasion, +I should be much gratified if you would favor me with your company +during the hours of the exercises." + +"What strange notions are in your mind?" inquired Ambulinia. +"Now I know you have something in view, and I desire you to tell +me why it is that you are so anxious that I should continue +with you while the exercises are going on; though if you think I +can add to your happiness and predilections, I have no particular +objection to acquiesce in your request. Oh, I think I foresee, +now, what you anticipate." "And will you have the goodness to tell +me what you think it will be?" inquired Elfonzo. "By all means," +answered Ambulinia; "a rival, sir, you would fancy in your own mind; +but let me say for you, fear not! fear not! I will be one of the +last persons to disgrace my sex by thus encouraging every one who +may feel disposed to visit me, who may honor me with their graceful +bows and their choicest compliments. It is true that young men too +often mistake civil politeness for the finer emotions of the heart, +which is tantamount to courtship; but, ah! how often are they deceived, +when they come to test the weight of sunbeams with those on whose +strength hangs the future happiness of an untried life." + +The people were now rushing to the Academy with impatient anxiety; +the band of music was closely followed by the students; then the parents +and guardians; nothing interrupted the glow of spirits which ran +through every bosom, tinged with the songs of a Virgil and the tide +of a Homer. Elfonzo and Ambulinia soon repaired to the scene, +and fortunately for them both the house was so crowded that they took +their seats together in the music department, which was not in view +of the auditory. This fortuitous circumstances added more the bliss +of the Major than a thousand such exhibitions would have done. +He forgot that he was man; music had lost its charms for him; +whenever he attempted to carry his part, the string of the instrument +would break, the bow became stubborn, and refused to obey the loud +calls of the audience. Here, he said, was the paradise of his home, +the long-sought-for opportunity; he felt as though he could +send a million supplications to the throne of Heaven for such +an exalted privilege. Poor Leos, who was somewhere in the crowd, +looking as attentively as if he was searching for a needle in a haystack; +here is stood, wondering to himself why Ambulinia was not there. +"Where can she be? Oh! if she was only here, how I could relish +the scene! Elfonzo is certainly not in town; but what if he is? +I have got the wealth, if I have not the dignity, and I am sure that +the squire and his lady have always been particular friends of mine, +and I think with this assurance I shall be able to get upon the blind +side of the rest of the family and make the heaven-born Ambulinia +the mistress of all I possess." Then, again, he would drop his head, +as if attempting to solve the most difficult problem in Euclid. +While he was thus conjecturing in his own mind, a very interesting +part of the exhibition was going on, which called the attention +of all present. The curtains of the stage waved continually +by the repelled forces that were given to them, which caused +Leos to behold Ambulinia leaning upon the chair of Elfonzo. +Her lofty beauty, seen by the glimmering of the chandelier, +filled his heart with rapture, he knew not how to contain himself; +to go where they were would expose him to ridicule; to continue +where he was, with such an object before him, without being allowed +an explanation in that trying hour, would be to the great injury +of his mental as well as of his physical powers; and, in the name +of high heaven, what must he do? Finally, he resolved to contain +himself as well as he conveniently could, until the scene was over, +and then he would plant himself at the door, to arrest Ambulinia from +the hands of the insolent Elfonzo, and thus make for himself a more +prosperous field of immortality than ever was decreed by Omnipotence, +or ever pencil drew or artist imagined. Accordingly he made +himself sentinel, immediately after the performance of the evening-- +retained his position apparently in defiance of all the world; he waited, +he gazed at every lady, his whole frame trembled; here he stood, +until everything like human shape had disappeared from the institution, +and he had done nothing; he had failed to accomplish that which he +so eagerly sought for. Poor, unfortunate creature! he had not +the eyes of an Argus, or he might have seen his Juno and Elfonzo, +assisted by his friend Sigma, make their escape from the window, +and, with the rapidity of a race-horse, hurry through the blast of +the storm to the residence of her father, without being recognized. +He did not tarry long, but assured Ambulinia the endless chain +of their existence was more closely connected than ever, since he +had seen the virtuous, innocent, imploring, and the constant +Amelia murdered by the jealous-hearted Farcillo, the accursed of +the land. + +The following is the tragical scene, which is only introduced +to show the subject-matter that enabled Elfonzo to come to such +a determinate resolution that nothing of the kind should ever +dispossess him of his true character, should he be so fortunate +as to succeed in his present undertaking. + +Amelia was the wife of Farcillo, and a virtuous woman; Gracia, +a young lady, was her particular friend and confidant. Farcillo grew +jealous of Amelia, murders her, finds out that he was deceived, +AND STABS HIMSELF. Amelia appears alone, talking to herself. + +A. Hail, ye solitary ruins of antiquity, ye sacred tombs and +silent walks! it is your aid I invoke; it is to you, my soul, +wrapt in deep mediating, pours forth its prayer. Here I wander upon +the stage of mortality, since the world hath turned against me. +Those whom I believed to be my friends, alas! are now my enemies, +planting thorns in all my paths, poisoning all my pleasures, +and turning the past to pain. What a lingering catalogue of sighs +and tears lies just before me, crowding my aching bosom with +the fleeting dream of humanity, which must shortly terminate. +And to what purpose will all this bustle of life, these agitations +and emotions of the heart have conduced, if it leave behind it +nothing of utility, if it leave no traces of improvement? Can it +be that I am deceived in my conclusions? No, I see that I have +nothing to hope for, but everything for fear, which tends to drive +me from the walks of time. + + +Oh! in this dead night, if loud winds arise, + +To lash the surge and bluster in the skies, + +May the west its furious rage display, + +Toss me with storms in the watery way. + + +(Enter Gracia.) + + +G. Oh, Amelia, is it you, the object of grief, the daughter of opulence, +of wisdom and philosophy, that thus complaineth? It cannot be you +are the child of misfortune, speaking of the monuments of former ages, +which were allotted not for the reflection of the distressed, +but for the fearless and bold. + +A. Not the child of poverty, Gracia, or the heir of glory and peace, +but of fate. Remember, I have wealth more than wit can number; I have +had power more than kings could emcompass; yet the world seems a desert; +all nature appears an afflictive spectacle of warring passions. +This blind fatality, that capriciously sports with the rules +and lives of mortals, tells me that the mountains will never again +send forth the water of their springs to my thirst. Oh, that I +might be freed and set at liberty from wretchedness! But I fear, +I fear this will never be. + +G. Why, Amelia, this untimely grief? What has caused the sorrows +that bespeak better and happier days, to those lavish out such +heaps of misery? You are aware that your instructive lessons +embellish the mind with holy truths, by wedding its attention +to none but great and noble affections. + +A. This, of course, is some consolation. I will ever love my own +species with feelings of a fond recollection, and while I am +studying to advance the universal philanthropy, and the spotless +name of my own sex, I will try to build my own upon the pleasing +belief that I have accelerated the advancement of one who whispers +of departed confidence. + + +And I, like some poor peasant fated to reside + +Remote from friends, in a forest wide. + +Oh, see what woman's woes and human wants require, + +Since that great day hath spread the seed of sinful fire. + + +G. Look up, thou poor disconsolate; you speak of quitting +earthly enjoyments. Unfold thy bosom to a friend, who would be +willing to sacrifice every enjoyment for the restoration of the +dignity and gentleness of mind which used to grace your walks, +and which is so natural to yourself; not only that, but your +paths were strewed with flowers of every hue and of every order. + + +With verdant green the mountains glow, + +For thee, for thee, the lilies grow; + +Far stretched beneath the tented hills, + +A fairer flower the valley fills. + + +A. Oh, would to Heaven I could give you a short narrative of my +former prospects for happiness, since you have acknowledged to be +an unchangeable confidant--the richest of all other blessings. +Oh, ye names forever glorious, ye celebrated scenes, ye renowned +spot of my hymeneal moments; how replete is your chart with +sublime reflections! How many profound vows, decorated with +immaculate deeds, are written upon the surface of that precious +spot of earth where I yielded up my life of celibacy, bade youth +with all its beauties a final adieu, took a last farewell of the +laurels that had accompanied me up the hill of my juvenile career. +It was then I began to descend toward the valley of disappointment +and sorrow; it was then I cast my little bark upon a mysterious ocean +of wedlock, with him who then smiled and caressed me, but, alas! now +frowns with bitterness, and has grown jealous and cold toward me, +because the ring he gave me is misplaced or lost. Oh, bear me, +ye flowers of memory, softly through the eventful history of +past times; and ye places that have witnessed the progression of man +in the circle of so many societies, and, of, aid my recollection, +while I endeavor to trace the vicissitudes of a life devoted +in endeavoring to comfort him that I claim as the object of my wishes. + + +Ah! ye mysterious men, of all the world, how few + +Act just to Heaven and to your promise true! + +But He who guides the stars with a watchful eye, + +The deeds of men lay open without disguise; + +Oh, this alone will avenge the wrongs I bear, + +For all the oppressed are His peculiar care. + + +(F. makes a slight noise.) + + +A. Who is there--Farcillo? + +G. Then I must gone. Heaven protect you. Oh, Amelia, farewell, +be of good cheer. + + +May you stand like Olympus' towers, + +Against earth and all jealous powers! + +May you, with loud shouts ascend on high + +Swift as an eagle in the upper sky. + + +A. Why so cold and distant tonight, Farcillo? Come, let us each +other greet, and forget all the past, and give security for the future. + +F. Security! talk to me about giving security for the future-- +what an insulting requisition! Have you said your prayers tonight, +Madam Amelia? + +A. Farcillo, we sometimes forget our duty, particularly when we +expect to be caressed by others. + +F. If you bethink yourself of any crime, or of any fault, that is +yet concealed from the courts of Heaven and the thrones of grace, +I bid you ask and solicit forgiveness for it now. + +A. Oh, be kind, Farcillo, don't treat me so. What do you mean +by all this? + +F. Be kind, you say; you, madam, have forgot that kindness you owe +to me, and bestowed it upon another; you shall suffer for your +conduct when you make your peace with your God. I would not slay thy +unprotected spirit. I call to Heaven to be my guard and my watch-- +I would not kill thy soul, in which all once seemed just, right, +and perfect; but I must be brief, woman. + +A. What, talk you of killing? Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo, what is +the matter? + +F. Aye, I do, without doubt; mark what I say, Amelia. + +A. Then, O God, O Heaven, and Angels, be propitious, and have mercy +upon me. + +F. Amen to that, madam, with all my heart, and with all my soul. + +A. Farcillo, listen to me one moment; I hope you will not kill me. + +F. Kill you, aye, that I will; attest it, ye fair host of light, +record it, ye dark imps of hell! + +A. Oh, I fear you--you are fatal when darkness covers your brow; +yet I know not why I should fear, since I never wronged you in all +my life. I stand, sir, guiltless before you. + +F. You pretend to say you are guiltless! Think of thy sins, +Amelia; think, oh, think, hidden woman. + +A. Wherein have I not been true to you? That death is unkind, +cruel, and unnatural, that kills for living. + +F. Peace, and be still while I unfold to thee. + +A. I will, Farcillo, and while I am thus silent, tell me the cause +of such cruel coldness in an hour like this. + +F. That RING, oh, that ring I so loved, and gave thee as the ring +of my heart; the allegiance you took to be faithful, when it +was presented; the kisses and smiles with which you honored it. +You became tired of the donor, despised it as a plague, and finally +gave it to Malos, the hidden, the vile traitor. + +A. No, upon my word and honor, I never did; I appeal to the Most +High to bear me out in this matter. Send for Malos, and ask him. + +F. Send for Malos, aye! Malos you wish to see; I thought so. +I knew you could not keep his name concealed. Amelia, sweet Amelia, +take heed, take heed of perjury; you are on the stage of death, +to suffer for YOUR SINS. + +A. What, not to die I hope, my Farcillo, my ever beloved. + +F. Yes, madam, to die a traitor's death. Shortly your spirit shall +take its exit; therefore confess freely thy sins, for to deny tends +only to make me groan under the bitter cup thou hast made for me. +Thou art to die with the name of traitor on thy brow! + +A. Then, O Lord, have mercy upon me; give me courage, give me grace +and fortitude to stand this hour of trial. + +F. Amen, I say, with all my heart. + +A. And, oh, Farcillo, will you have mercy, too? I never +intentionally offended you in all my life, never LOVED Malos, +never gave him cause to think so, as the high court of Justice +will acquit me before its tribunal. + +F. Oh, false, perjured woman, thou didst chill my blood, and makest +me a demon like thyself. I saw the ring. + +A. He found it, then, or got it clandestinely; send for him, +and let him confess the truth; let his confession be sifted. + +F. And you still wish to see him! I tell you, madam, he hath +already confessed, and thou knowest the darkness of thy heart. + +A. What, my deceived Farcillo, that I gave him the ring, in which +all my affections were concentrated? Oh, surely not. + +F. Aye, he did. Ask thy conscience, and it will speak with a voice +of thunder to thy soul. + +A. He will not say so, he dare not, he cannot. + +F. No, he will not say so now, because his mouth, I trust, is hushed +in death, and his body stretched to the four winds of heaven, +to be torn to pieces by carnivorous birds. + +A. What, he is dead, and gone to the world of spirits with that +declaration in his mouth? Oh, unhappy man! Oh, insupportable hour! + +F. Yes, and had all his sighs and looks and tears been lives, my great +revenge could have slain them all, without the least condemnation. + +A. Alas! he is ushered into eternity without testing the matter +for which I am abused and sentenced and condemned to die. + +F. Cursed, infernal woman! Weepest thou for him to my face? He that +hath robbed me of my peace, my energy, the whole love of my life? +Could I call the fabled Hydra, I would have him live and perish, +survive and die, until the sun itself would grow dim with age. +I would make him have the thirst of a Tantalus, and roll the +wheel of an Ixion, until the stars of heaven should quit their +brilliant stations. + +A. Oh, invincible God, save me! Oh, unsupportable moment! Oh, heavy +hour! Banish me,, Farcillo--send me where no eye can ever see me, where +no sound shall ever great my ear; but, oh, slay me not, Farcillo; vent thy +rage and thy spite upon this emaciated frame of mine, only spare my life. + +F. Your petitions avail nothing, cruel Amelia. + +A. Oh, Farcillo, perpetrate the dark deed tomorrow; let me live +till then, for my past kindness to you, and it may be some kind +angel will show to you that I am not only the object of innocence, +but one who never loved another but your noble self. + +F. Amelia, the decree has gone forth, it is to be done, and that quickly; +thou art to die, madam. + +A. But half an hour allow me, to see my father and my only child, +to tell her the treachery and vanity of this world. + +F. There is no alternative, there is no pause: my daughter shall +not see its deceptive mother die; your father shall not know that his +daughter fell disgraced, despised by all but her enchanting Malos. + +A. Oh, Farcillo, put up thy threatening dagger into its scabbard; +let it rest and be still, just while I say one prayer for thee and +for my child. + +F. It is too late, thy doom is fixed, thou hast not confessed +to Heaven or to me, my child's protector--thou art to die. +Ye powers of earth and heaven, protect and defend me in this alone. +(STABS HER WHILE IMPLORING FOR MERCY.) + +A. Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo, a guiltless death I die. + +F. Die! die! die! + + +(Gracia enters running, falls on her knees weeping, and kisses Amelia.) + + +G. Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo! oh, Farcillo! + +F. I am here, the genius of the age, and the avenger of my wrongs. + +G. Oh, lady, speak once more; sweet Amelia, on, speak again. +Gone, gone--yes, forever gone! Farcillo, oh, cold-hearted Farcillo, +some evil fiend hath urged you to do this, Farcillo. + +F. Say not so again, or you shall receive the same fate. I did +the glorious deed, madam--beware, then, how you talk. + +G. I fear not your implements of war; I will let you know you have +not the power to do me harm. If you have a heart of triple brass, +it shall be reached and melted, and thy blood shall chill thy veins +and grow stiff in thy arteries. Here is the ring of the virtuous +and innocent murdered Amelia; I obtained it from Malos, who yet lives, +in hopes that he will survive the wound given him, and says he got +it clandestinely--declares Amelia to be the princess of truth and virtue, +invulnerable to anything like forgetting her first devotion to thee. +The world has heard of your conduct and your jealousy, and with +one universal voice declares her to be the best of all in piety; +that she is the star of this great universe, and a more virtuous +woman never lived since the wheels of time began. Oh, had you waited +till tomorrow, or until I had returned, some kind window would have +been opened to her relief. But, alas! she is gone--yes, forever gone, +to try the realities of an unknown world! + + +(Farcillo leaning over the body of Amelia.) + + +F. Malos not dead, and here is my ring! Oh, Amelia! falsely murdered! +Oh, bloody deed! Oh, wretch that I am! Oh, angels forgive me! Oh, God, +withhold thy vengeance! Oh, Amelia! if Heaven would make a thousand +worlds like this, set with diamonds, and all of one perfect chrysolite, +I would not have done this for them all, I would not have frowned +and cursed as I did. Oh, she was heavenly true, nursed in the very +lap of bright angels! Cursed slave that I am! Jealousy, oh! thou +infernal demon! Lost, lost to every sense of honor! Oh! Amelia-- +heaven-born Amelia--dead, dead! Oh! oh! oh!--then let me die with +thee. Farewell! farewell! ye world that deceived me! (STABS HIMSELF.) + + +Soon after the excitement of this tragical scene was over, +and the enlisted feeling for Amelia had grown more buoyant with +Elfonzo and Ambulinia, he determined to visit his retired home, +and make the necessary improvements to enjoy a better day; +consequently he conveyed the following lines to Ambulinia: + + +Go tell the world that hope is glowing, + +Go bid the rocks their silence break, + +Go tell the stars that love is glowing, + +Then bid the hero his lover take. + + +In the region where scarcely the foot of man hath ever trod, +where the woodman hath not found his way, lies a blooming grove, +seen only by the sun when he mounts his lofty throne, visited only +by the light of the stars, to whom are entrusted the guardianship +of earth, before the sun sinks to rest in his rosy bed. High cliffs +of rocks surround the romantic place, and in the small cavity of +the rocky wall grows the daffodil clear and pure; and as the wind +blows along the enchanting little mountain which surrounds the +lonely spot, it nourishes the flowers with the dew-drops of heaven. +Here is the seat of Elfonzo; darkness claims but little victory over +this dominion, and in vain does she spread out her gloomy wings. +Here the waters flow perpetually, and the trees lash their tops +together to bid the welcome visitor a happy muse. Elfonzo, during his +short stay in the country, had fully persuaded himself that it was +his duty to bring this solemn matter to an issue. A duty that he +individually owed, as a gentleman, to the parents of Ambulinia, +a duty in itself involving not only his own happiness and his own +standing in society, but one that called aloud the act of the parties +to make it perfect and complete. How he should communicate his +intentions to get a favorable reply, he was at a loss to know; +he knew not whether to address Esq. Valeer in prose or in poetry, +in a jocular or an argumentative manner, or whether he should use +moral suasion, legal injunction, or seizure and take by reprisal; +if it was to do the latter, he would have no difficulty in deciding +in his own mind, but his gentlemanly honor was at stake; so he +concluded to address the following letter to the father and mother +of Ambulinia, as his address in person he knew would only aggravate +the old gentleman, and perhaps his lady. + + + +Cumming, Ga., January 22, 1844 + +Mr. and Mrs. Valeer-- + + +Again I resume the pleasing task of addressing you, and once more beg +an immediate answer to my many salutations. From every circumstance +that has taken place, I feel in duty bound to comply with my obligations; +to forfeit my word would be more than I dare do; to break my pledge, +and my vows that have been witnessed, sealed, and delivered in the +presence of an unseen Deity, would be disgraceful on my part, as well +as ruinous to Ambulinia. I wish no longer to be kept in suspense +about this matter. I wish to act gentlemanly in every particular. +It is true, the promises I have made are unknown to any but Ambulinia, +and I think it unnecessary to here enumerate them, as they who +promise the most generally perform the least. Can you for a moment +doubt my sincerity or my character? My only wish is, sir, that you +may calmly and dispassionately look at the situation of the case, +and if your better judgment should dictate otherwise, my obligations +may induce me to pluck the flower that you so diametrically opposed. +We have sword by the saints--by the gods of battle, and by that +faith whereby just men are made perfect--to be united. I hope, +my dear sir, you will find it convenient as well as agreeable +to give me a favorable answer, with the signature of Mrs. Valeer, +as well as yourself. + + +With very great esteem, + +your humble servant, + +J. I. Elfonzo. + + + +The moon and stars had grown pale when Ambulinia had retired +to rest. A crowd of unpleasant thoughts passed through her bosom. +Solitude dwelt in her chamber--no sound from the neighboring +world penetrated its stillness; it appeared a temple of silence, +of repose, and of mystery. At that moment she heard a still voice +calling her father. In an instant, like the flash of lightning, +a thought ran through her mind that it must be the bearer +of Elfonzo's communication. "It is not a dream!" she said, +"no, I cannot read dreams. Oh! I would to Heaven I was near +that glowing eloquence--that poetical language--it charms the +mind in an inexpressible manner, and warms the coldest heart." +While consoling herself with this strain, her father rushed into +her room almost frantic with rage, exclaiming: "Oh, Ambulinia! +Ambulinia!! undutiful, ungrateful daughter! What does this mean? +Why does this letter bear such heart-rending intelligence? +Will you quit a father's house with this debased wretch, without a +place to lay his distracted head; going up and down the country, +with every novel object that many chance to wander through this region. +He is a pretty man to make love known to his superiors, and you, +Ambulinia, have done but little credit to yourself by honoring +his visits. Oh, wretchedness! can it be that my hopes of happiness +are forever blasted! Will you not listen to a father's entreaties, +and pay some regard to a mother's tears. I know, and I do pray that God +will give me fortitude to bear with this sea of troubles, and rescue +my daughter, my Ambulinia, as a brand from the eternal burning." +"Forgive me, father, oh! forgive thy child," replied Ambulinia. +"My heart is ready to break, when I see you in this grieved state +of agitation. Oh! think not so meanly of me, as that I mourn +for my own danger. Father, I am only woman. Mother, I am only +the templement of thy youthful years, but will suffer courageously +whatever punishment you think proper to inflict upon me, if you will +but allow me to comply with my most sacred promises--if you will but +give me my personal right and my personal liberty. Oh, father! if +your generosity will but give me these, I ask nothing more. +When Elfonzo offered me his heart, I gave him my hand, never to +forsake him, and now may the mighty God banish me before I leave him +in adversity. What a heart must I have to rejoice in prosperity +with him whose offers I have accepted, and then, when poverty comes, +haggard as it may be, for me to trifle with the oracles of Heaven, +and change with every fluctuation that may interrupt our happiness-- +like the politician who runs the political gantlet for office one day, +and the next day, because the horizon is darkened a little, he is +seen running for his life, for fear he might perish in its ruins. +Where is the philosophy, where is the consistency, where is the charity, +in conduct like this? Be happy then, my beloved father, and forget me; +let the sorrow of parting break down the wall of separation and make +us equal in our feeling; let me now say how ardently I love you; +let me kiss that age-worn cheek, and should my tears bedew thy face, +I will wipe them away. Oh, I never can forget you; no, never, never!" + +"Weep not," said the father, "Ambulinia. I will forbid Elfonzo +my house, and desire that you may keep retired a few days. I will +let him know that my friendship for my family is not linked together +by cankered chains; and if he ever enters upon my premises again, +I will send him to his long home." "Oh, father! let me entreat you +to be calm upon this occasion, and though Elfonzo may be the sport +of the clouds and winds, yet I feel assured that no fate will send +him to the silent tomb until the God of the Universe calls him +hence with a triumphant voice." + +Here the father turned away, exclaiming: "I will answer his letter +in a very few words, and you, madam, will have the goodness to stay +at home with your mother; and remember, I am determined to protect +you from the consuming fire that looks so fair to your view." + + + +Cumming, January 22, 1844. + + +Sir--In regard to your request, I am as I ever have been, utterly opposed +to your marrying into my family; and if you have any regard for yourself, +or any gentlemanly feeling, I hope you will mention it to me no more; +but seek some other one who is not so far superior to you in standing. + + +W. W. Valeer. + + + +When Elfonzo read the above letter, he became so much depressed +in spirits that many of his friends thought it advisable to use +other means to bring about the happy union. "Strange," said he, +"that the contents of this diminutive letter should cause me to have +such depressed feelings; but there is a nobler theme than this. I know +not why my MILITARY TITLE is not as great as that of SQUIRE VALEER. +For my life I cannot see that my ancestors are inferior to those +who are so bitterly opposed to my marriage with Ambulinia. I know +I have seen huge mountains before me, yet, when I think that I know +gentlemen will insult me upon this delicate matter, should I become +angry at fools and babblers, who pride themselves in their impudence +and ignorance? No. My equals! I know not where to find them. +My inferiors! I think it beneath me; and my superiors! I think +it presumption; therefore, if this youthful heart is protected +by any of the divine rights, I never will betray my trust." + +He was aware that Ambulinia had a confidence that was, indeed, +as firm and as resolute as she was beautiful and interesting. +He hastened to the cottage of Louisa, who received him in her usual +mode of pleasantness, and informed him that Ambulinia had just that +moment left. "Is it possible?" said Elfonzo. "Oh, murdered hours! +Why did she not remain and be the guardian of my secrets? +But hasten and tell me how she has stood this trying scene, +and what are her future determinations." "You know," said Louisa, +"Major Elfonzo, that you have Ambulinia's first love, which is +of no small consequence. She came here about twilight, and shed +many precious tears in consequence of her own fate with yours. +We walked silently in yon little valley you see, where we spent +a momentary repose. She seemed to be quite as determined as ever, +and before we left that beautiful spot she offered up a prayer +to Heaven for thee." "I will see her then," replied Elfonzo, +"though legions of enemies may oppose. She is mine by foreordination-- +she is mine by prophesy--she is mine by her own free will, and I +will rescue her from the hands of her oppressors. Will you not, +Miss Louisa, assist me in my capture?" + +"I will certainly, by the aid of Divine Providence," answered Louisa, +"endeavor to break those slavish chains that bind the richest of prizes; +though allow me, Major, to entreat you to use no harsh means on this +important occasion; take a decided stand, and write freely to Ambulinia +upon this subject, and I will see that no intervening cause hinders +its passage to her. God alone will save a mourning people. Now is +the day and now is the hour to obey a command of such valuable worth." +The Major felt himself grow stronger after this short interview +with Louisa. He felt as if he could whip his weight in wildcats-- +he knew he was master of his own feelings, and could now write +a letter that would bring this litigation to AN ISSUE. + + + +Cumming, January 24, 1844. + +Dear Ambulinia-- + + +We have now reached the most trying moment of our lives; we are +pledged not to forsake our trust; we have waited for a favorable hour +to come, thinking your friends would settle the matter agreeably +among themselves, and finally be reconciled to our marriage; +but as I have waited in vain, and looked in vain, I have determined +in my own mind to make a proposition to you, though you may think +it not in accord with your station, or compatible with your rank; +yet, "sub loc signo vinces." You know I cannot resume my visits, +in consequence of the utter hostility that your father has to me; +therefore the consummation of our union will have to be sought +for in a more sublime sphere, at the residence of a respectable +friend of this village. You cannot have an scruples upon this +mode of proceeding, if you will but remember it emanates from one +who loves you better than his own life--who is more than anxious +to bid you welcome to a new and happy home. Your warmest associates +say come; the talented, the learned, the wise, and the experienced +say come;--all these with their friends say, come. Viewing these, +with many other inducements, I flatter myself that you will come +to the embraces of your Elfonzo; for now is the time of your +acceptance of the day of your liberation. You cannot be ignorant, +Ambulinia, that thou art the desire of my heart; its thoughts +are too noble, and too pure, to conceal themselves from you. +I shall wait for your answer to this impatiently, expecting that you +will set the time to make your departure, and to be in readiness +at a moment's warning to share the joys of a more preferable life. +This will be handed to you by Louisa, who will take a pleasure in +communicating anything to you that may relieve your dejected spirits, +and will assure you that I now stand ready, willing, and waiting +to make good my vows. + +I am, dear Ambulinia, your + +truly, and forever, + +J. I. Elfonzo. + + + +Louisa made it convenient to visit Mr. Valeer's, though they +did not suspect her in the least the bearer of love epistles; +consequently, she was invited in the room to console Ambulinia, +where they were left alone. Ambulinia was seated by a small table-- +her head resting on her hand--her brilliant eyes were bathed in tears. +Louisa handed her the letter of Elfonzo, when another spirit animated +her features--the spirit of renewed confidence that never fails +to strengthen the female character in an hour of grief and sorrow +like this, and as she pronounced the last accent of his name, +she exclaimed, "And does he love me yet! I never will forget +your generosity, Louisa. Oh, unhappy and yet blessed Louisa! may you +never feel what I have felt--may you never know the pangs of love. +Had I never loved, I never would have been unhappy; but I turn to Him +who can save, and if His wisdom does not will my expected union, +I know He will give me strength to bear my lot. Amuse yourself +with this little book, and take it as an apology for my silence," +said Ambulinia, "while I attempt to answer this volume of consolation." +"Thank you," said Louisa, "you are excusable upon this occasion; +but I pray you, Ambulinia, to be expert upon this momentous subject, +that there may be nothing mistrustful upon my part." "I will," +said Ambulinia, and immediately resumed her seat and addressed the +following to Elfonzo: + + + +Cumming, Ga., January 28, 1844. + +Devoted Elfonzo-- + + +I hail your letter as a welcome messenger of faith, and can now +say truly and firmly that my feelings correspond with yours. +Nothing shall be wanting on my part to make my obedience your fidelity. +Courage and perseverance will accomplish success. Receive this +as my oath, that while I grasp your hand in my own imagination, +we stand united before a higher tribunal than any on earth. +All the powers of my life, soul, and body, I devote to thee. +Whatever dangers may threaten me, I fear not to encounter them. +Perhaps I have determined upon my own destruction, by leaving +the house of the best of parents; be it so; I flee to you; I share +your destiny, faithful to the end. The day that I have concluded +upon for this task is SABBATH next, when the family with the citizens +are generally at church. For Heaven's sake let not that day +pass unimproved: trust not till tomorrow, it is the cheat of life-- +the future that never comes--the grave of many noble births-- +the cavern of ruined enterprise: which like the lightning's +flash is born, and dies, and perishes, ere the voice of him +who sees can cry, BEHOLD! BEHOLD!! You may trust to what I say, +no power shall tempt me to betray confidence. Suffer me to add one +word more. + + +I will soothe thee, in all thy grief, + +Beside the gloomy river; + +And though thy love may yet be brief; + +Mine is fixed forever. + + +Receive the deepest emotions of my heart for thy constant love, +and may the power of inspiration by thy guide, thy portion, and thy all. +In great haste, + +Yours faithfully, + +Ambulinia. + + + +"I now take my leave of you, sweet girl," said Louisa, "sincerely +wishing you success on Sabbath next." When Ambulinia's letter was +handed to Elfonzo, he perused it without doubting its contents. +Louisa charged him to make but few confidants; but like most young +men who happened to win the heart of a beautiful girl, he was so +elated with the idea that he felt as a commanding general on parade, +who had confidence in all, consequently gave orders to all. +The appointed Sabbath, with a delicious breeze and cloudless sky, +made its appearance. The people gathered in crowds to the church-- +the streets were filled with neighboring citizens, all marching +to the house of worship. It is entirely useless for me to attempt +to describe the feelings of Elfonzo and Ambulinia, who were silently +watching the movements of the multitude, apparently counting them as then +entered the house of God, looking for the last one to darken the door. +The impatience and anxiety with which they waited, and the bliss +they anticipated on the eventful day, is altogether indescribable. +Those that have been so fortunate as to embark in such a noble +enterprise know all its realities; and those who have not had this +inestimable privilege will have to taste its sweets before they can +tell to others its joys, its comforts, and its Heaven-born worth. +Immediately after Ambulinia had assisted the family off to church, +she took advantage of that opportunity to make good her promises. +She left a home of enjoyment to be wedded to one whose love had +been justifiable. A few short steps brought her to the presence +of Louisa, who urged her to make good use of her time, and not +to delay a moment, but to go with her to her brother's house, +where Elfonzo would forever make her happy. With lively speed, +and yet a graceful air, she entered the door and found herself +protected by the champion of her confidence. The necessary +arrangements were fast making to have the two lovers united-- +everything was in readiness except the parson; and as they are +generally very sanctimonious on such occasions, the news got +to the parents of Ambulinia before the everlasting knot was tied, +and they both came running, with uplifted hands and injured feelings, +to arrest their daughter from an unguarded and hasty resolution. +Elfonzo desired to maintain his ground, but Ambulinia thought +it best for him to leave, to prepare for a greater contest. +He accordingly obeyed, as it would have been a vain endeavor for him +to have battled against a man who was armed with deadly weapons; +and besides, he could not resist the request of such a pure heart. +Ambulinia concealed herself in the upper story of the house, fearing +the rebuke of her father; the door was locked, and no chastisement +was now expected. Esquire Valeer, whose pride was already touched, +resolved to preserve the dignity of his family. He entered the house +almost exhausted, looking wildly for Ambulinia. "Amazed and astonished +indeed I am," said he, "at a people who call themselves civilized, +to allow such behavior as this. Ambulinia, Ambulinia!" he cried, +"come to the calls of your first, your best, and your only friend. +I appeal to you, sir," turning to the gentleman of the house, +"to know where Ambulinia has gone, or where is she?" "Do you mean +to insult me, sir, in my own house?" inquired the gentleman. +"I will burst," said Mr. V., "asunder every door in your dwelling, +in search of my daughter, if you do not speak quickly, and tell me +where she is. I care nothing about that outcast rubbish of creation, +that mean, low-lived Elfonzo, if I can but obtain Ambulinia. +Are you not going to open this door?" said he. "By the Eternal +that made Heaven and earth! I will go about the work instantly, +if this is not done!" The confused citizens gathered from all +parts of the village, to know the cause of this commotion. +Some rushed into the house; the door that was locked flew open, +and there stood Ambulinia, weeping. "Father, be still," said she, +"and I will follow thee home." But the agitated man seized her, +and bore her off through the gazing multitude. "Father!" she exclaimed, +"I humbly beg your pardon--I will be dutiful--I will obey thy commands. +Let the sixteen years I have lived in obedience to thee by my +future security." "I don't like to be always giving credit, +when the old score is not paid up, madam," said the father. The mother +followed almost in a state of derangement, crying and imploring +her to think beforehand, and ask advice from experienced persons, +and they would tell her it was a rash undertaking. "Oh!" said she, +"Ambulinia, my daughter, did you know what I have suffered-- +did you know how many nights I have whiled away in agony, +in pain, and in fear, you would pity the sorrows of a heartbroken +mother." + +"Well, mother," replied Ambulinia, "I know I have been disobedient; +I am aware that what I have done might have been done much better; +but oh! what shall I do with my honor? it is so dear to me; +I am pledged to Elfonzo. His high moral worth is certainly worth +some attention; moreover, my vows, I have no doubt, are recorded +in the book of life, and must I give these all up? must my fair +hopes be forever blasted? Forbid it, father; oh! forbid it, mother; +forbid it, Heaven." "I have seen so many beautiful skies overclouded," +replied the mother, "so many blossoms nipped by the frost, +that I am afraid to trust you to the care of those fair days, +which may be interrupted by thundering and tempestuous nights. +You no doubt think as I did--life's devious ways were strewn with +sweet-scented flowers, but ah! how long they have lingered around me +and took their flight in the vivid hope that laughs at the drooping +victims it has murdered." Elfonzo was moved at this sight. +The people followed on to see what was going to become of Ambulinia, +while he, with downcast looks, kept at a distance, until he saw +them enter the abode of the father, thrusting her, that was the +sigh of his soul, out of his presence into a solitary apartment, +when she exclaimed, "Elfonzo! Elfonzo! oh, Elfonzo! where art thou, +with all thy heroes? haste, oh! haste, come thou to my relief. +Ride on the wings of the wind! Turn thy force loose like a tempest, +and roll on thy army like a whirlwind, over this mountain of trouble +and confusion. Oh, friends! if any pity me, let your last efforts +throng upon the green hills, and come to the relief of Ambulinia, +who is guilty of nothing but innocent love." Elfonzo called out with +a loud voice, "My God, can I stand this! arise up, I beseech you, +and put an end to this tyranny. Come, my brave boys," said he, +"are you ready to go forth to your duty?" They stood around him. +"Who," said he, "will call us to arms? Where are my thunderbolts of war? +Speak ye, the first who will meet the foe! Who will go forward with me +in this ocean of grievous temptation? If there is one who desires +to go, let him come and shake hands upon the altar of devotion, +and swear that he will be a hero; yes, a Hector in a cause like this, +which calls aloud for a speedy remedy." "Mine be the deed," +said a young lawyer, "and mine alone; Venus alone shall quit her +station before I will forsake one jot or tittle of my promise to you; +what is death to me? what is all this warlike army, if it is not +to win a victory? I love the sleep of the lover and the mighty; +nor would I give it over till the blood of my enemies should wreak +with that of my own. But God forbid that our fame should soar +on the blood of the slumberer." Mr. Valeer stands at his door +with the frown of a demon upon his brow, with his dangerous +weapon ready to strike the first man who should enter his door. +"Who will arise and go forward through blood and carnage to the rescue +of my Ambulinia?" said Elfonzo. "All," exclaimed the multitude; +and onward they went, with their implements of battle. Others, of a +more timid nature, stood among the distant hills to see the result of +the contest. + +Elfonzo took the lead of his band. Night arose in clouds; +darkness concealed the heavens; but the blazing hopes that stimulated +them gleamed in every bosom. All approached the anxious spot; +they rushed to the front of the house and, with one exclamation, +demanded Ambulinia. "Away, begone, and disturb my peace no more," +said Mr. Valeer. "You are a set of base, insolent, and infernal rascals. +Go, the northern star points your path through the dim twilight of +the night; go, and vent your spite upon the lonely hills; pour forth +your love, you poor, weak-minded wretch, upon your idleness and upon +your guitar, and your fiddle; they are fit subjects for your admiration, +for let me assure you, though this sword and iron lever are cankered, +yet they frown in sleep, and let one of you dare to enter my +house this night and you shall have the contents and the weight +of these instruments." "Never yet did base dishonor blur my name," +said Elfonzo; "mine is a cause of renown; here are my warriors; +fear and tremble, for this night, though hell itself should oppose, +I will endeavor to avenge her whom thou hast banished in solitude. +The voice of Ambulinia shall be heard from that dark dungeon." +At that moment Ambulinia appeared at the window above, and with a +tremulous voice said, "Live, Elfonzo! oh! live to raise my stone +of moss! why should such language enter your heart? why should thy +voice rend the air with such agitation? I bid thee live, once more +remembering these tears of mine are shed alone for thee, in this dark +and gloomy vault, and should I perish under this load of trouble, +join the song of thrilling accents with the raven above my grave, +and lay this tattered frame beside the banks of the Chattahoochee +or the stream of Sawney's brook; sweet will be the song of death to +your Ambulinia. My ghost shall visit you in the smiles of Paradise, +and tell your high fame to the minds of that region, which is far more +preferable than this lonely cell. My heart shall speak for thee till +the latest hour; I know faint and broken are the sounds of sorrow, +yet our souls, Elfonzo, shall hear the peaceful songs together. +One bright name shall be ours on high, if we are not permitted to be +united here; bear in mind that I still cherish my old sentiments, +and the poet will mingle the names of Elfonzo and Ambulinia +in the tide of other days." "Fly, Elfonzo," said the voices +of his united band, "to the wounded heart of your beloved. +All enemies shall fall beneath thy sword. Fly through the clefts, +and the dim spark shall sleep in death." Elfonzo rushes forward +and strikes his shield against the door, which was barricaded, +to prevent any intercourse. His brave sons throng around him. +The people pour along the streets, both male and female, to prevent or +witness the melancholy scene. + +"To arms, to arms!" cried Elfonzo; "here is a victory to be won, +a prize to be gained that is more to me that the whole world beside." +"It cannot be done tonight," said Mr. Valeer. "I bear the clang +of death; my strength and armor shall prevail. My Ambulinia shall +rest in this hall until the break of another day, and if we fall, +we fall together. If we die, we die clinging to our tattered rights, +and our blood alone shall tell the mournful tale of a murdered +daughter and a ruined father." Sure enough, he kept watch all night, +and was successful in defending his house and family. The bright +morning gleamed upon the hills, night vanished away, the Major +and his associates felt somewhat ashamed that they had not been as +fortunate as they expected to have been; however, they still leaned +upon their arms in dispersed groups; some were walking the streets, +others were talking in the Major's behalf. Many of the citizen +suspended business, as the town presented nothing but consternation. +A novelty that might end in the destruction of some worthy +and respectable citizens. Mr. Valeer ventured in the streets, +though not without being well armed. Some of his friends congratulated +him on the decided stand he had taken, and hoped he would settle +the matter amicably with Elfonzo, without any serious injury. +"Me," he replied, "what, me, condescend to fellowship with a coward, +and a low-lived, lazy, undermining villain? no, gentlemen, this cannot be; +I had rather be borne off, like the bubble upon the dark blue ocean, +with Ambulinia by my side, than to have him in the ascending +or descending line of relationship. Gentlemen," continued he, +"if Elfonzo is so much of a distinguished character, and is so +learned in the fine arts, why do you not patronize such men? why +not introduce him into your families, as a gentleman of taste +and of unequaled magnanimity? why are you so very anxious that he +should become a relative of mine? Oh, gentlemen, I fear you yet +are tainted with the curiosity of our first parents, who were +beguiled by the poisonous kiss of an old ugly serpent, and who, +for one APPLE, DAMNED all mankind. I wish to divest myself, as far +as possible, of that untutored custom. I have long since learned +that the perfection of wisdom, and the end of true philosophy, +is to proportion our wants to our possessions, our ambition to +our capacities; we will then be a happy and a virtuous people." +Ambulinia was sent off to prepare for a long and tedious journey. +Her new acquaintances had been instructed by her father how to treat her, +and in what manner, and to keep the anticipated visit entirely secret. +Elfonzo was watching the movements of everybody; some friends +had told him of the plot that was laid to carry off Ambulinia. +At night, he rallied some two or three of his forces, and went +silently along to the stately mansion; a faint and glimmering light +showed through the windows; lightly he steps to the door; there were +many voices rallying fresh in fancy's eye; he tapped the shutter; +it was opened instantly, and he beheld once more, seated beside +several ladies, the hope of all his toils; he rushed toward her, +she rose from her seat, rejoicing; he made one mighty grasp, +when Ambulinia exclaimed, "Huzza for Major Elfonzo! I will defend +myself and you, too, with this conquering instrument I hold in my hand; +huzza, I say, I now invoke time's broad wing to shed around us some +dewdrops of verdant spring." + +But the hour had not come for this joyous reunion; her friends +struggled with Elfonzo for some time, and finally succeeded +in arresting her from his hands. He dared not injure them, +because they were matrons whose courage needed no spur; +she was snatched from the arms of Elfonzo, with so much eagerness, +and yet with such expressive signification, that he calmly withdrew +from this lovely enterprise, with an ardent hope that he should be +lulled to repose by the zephyrs which whispered peace to his soul. +Several long days and night passed unmolested, all seemed to have +grounded their arms of rebellion, and no callidity appeared to be +going on with any of the parties. Other arrangements were made +by Ambulinia; she feigned herself to be entirely the votary of a +mother's care, and she, by her graceful smiles, that manhood might +claim his stern dominion in some other region, where such boisterous +love was not so prevalent. This gave the parents a confidence +that yielded some hours of sober joy; they believed that Ambulinia +would now cease to love Elfonzo, and that her stolen affections +would now expire with her misguided opinions. They therefore +declined the idea of sending her to a distant land. But oh! they +dreamed not of the rapture that dazzled the fancy of Ambulinia, +who would say, when alone, youth should not fly away on his rosy +pinions, and leave her to grapple in the conflict with unknown admirers. + + +No frowning age shall control + +The constant current of my soul, + +Nor a tear from pity's eye + +Shall check my sympathetic sigh. + + +With this resolution fixed in her mind, one dark and dreary night, +when the winds whistled and the tempest roared, she received intelligence +that Elfonzo was then waiting, and every preparation was then ready, +at the residence of Dr. Tully, and for her to make a quick escape +while the family was reposing. Accordingly she gathered her books, +went the wardrobe supplied with a variety of ornamental dressing, +and ventured alone in the streets to make her way to Elfonzo, +who was near at hand, impatiently looking and watching her arrival. +"What forms," said she, "are those rising before me? What is +that dark spot on the clouds? I do wonder what frightful ghost +that is, gleaming on the red tempest? Oh, be merciful and tell me +what region you are from. Oh, tell me, ye strong spirits, or ye +dark and fleeting clouds, that I yet have a friend." "A friend," +said a low, whispering voice. "I am thy unchanging, thy aged, +and thy disappointed mother. Why brandish in that hand of thine +a javelin of pointed steel? Why suffer that lip I have kissed +a thousand times to equivocate? My daughter, let these tears sink +deep into thy soul, and no longer persist in that which may be your +destruction and ruin. Come, my dear child, retract your steps, +and bear me company to your welcome home." Without one retorting word, +or frown from her brow, she yielded to the entreaties of her mother, +and with all the mildness of her former character she went along +with the silver lamp of age, to the home of candor and benevolence. +Her father received her cold and formal politeness--"Where has +Ambulinia been, this blustering evening, Mrs. Valeer?" inquired he. +"Oh, she and I have been taking a solitary walk," said the mother; +"all things, I presume, are now working for the best." + +Elfonzo heard this news shortly after it happened. "What," said he, +"has heaven and earth turned against me? I have been disappointed +times without number. Shall I despair?--must I give it over? +Heaven's decrees will not fade; I will write again--I will try again; +and if it traverses a gory field, I pray forgiveness at the altar +of justice." + + + +Desolate Hill, Cumming, Geo., 1844. + +Unconquered and Beloved Ambulinia-- + +I have only time to say to you, not to despair; thy fame shall +not perish; my visions are brightening before me. The whirlwind's +rage is past, and we now shall subdue our enemies without doubt. +On Monday morning, when your friends are at breakfast, they will +not suspect your departure, or even mistrust me being in town, +as it has been reported advantageously that I have left for the west. +You walk carelessly toward the academy grove, where you will find +me with a lightning steed, elegantly equipped to bear you off where +we shall be joined in wedlock with the first connubial rights. +Fail not to do this--think not of the tedious relations of our wrongs-- +be invincible. You alone occupy all my ambition, and I alone will +make you my happy spouse, with the same unimpeached veracity. +I remain, forever, your devoted friend and admirer, J. L. Elfonzo. + + + +The appointed day ushered in undisturbed by any clouds; nothing disturbed +Ambulinia's soft beauty. With serenity and loveliness she obeys +the request of Elfonzo. The moment the family seated themselves +at the table--"Excuse my absence for a short time," said she, +"while I attend to the placing of those flowers, which should have +been done a week ago." And away she ran to the sacred grove, +surrounded with glittering pearls, that indicated her coming. +Elfonzo hails her with his silver bow and his golden harp. They meet-- +Ambulinia's countenance brightens--Elfonzo leads up his winged steed. +"Mount," said he, "ye true-hearted, ye fearless soul--the day +is ours." She sprang upon the back of the young thunder bolt, +a brilliant star sparkles upon her head, with one hand she +grasps the reins, and with the other she holds an olive branch. +"Lend thy aid, ye strong winds," they exclaimed, "ye moon, ye sun, +and all ye fair host of heaven, witness the enemy conquered." +"Hold," said Elfonzo, "thy dashing steed." "Ride on," said Ambulinia, +"the voice of thunder is behind us." And onward they went, +with such rapidity that they very soon arrived at Rural Retreat, +where they dismounted, and were united with all the solemnities +that usually attend such divine operations. They passed the day +in thanksgiving and great rejoicing, and on that evening they +visited their uncle, where many of their friends and acquaintances +had gathered to congratulate them in the field of untainted bliss. +The kind old gentleman met them in the yard: "Well," said he, "I wish +I may die, Elfonzo, if you and Ambulinia haven't tied a knot with your +tongue that you can't untie with your teeth. But come in, come in, +never mind, all is right--the world still moves on, and no one has +fallen in this great battle." + +Happy now is there lot! Unmoved by misfortune, they live among the +fair beauties of the South. Heaven spreads their peace and fame upon +the arch of the rainbow, and smiles propitiously at their triumph, +THROUGH THE TEARS OF THE STORM. + + +*** + + + +THE CALIFORNIAN'S TALE + + + +Thirty-five years ago I was out prospecting on the Stanislaus, +tramping all day long with pick and pan and horn, and washing a hatful +of dirt here and there, always expecting to make a rich strike, +and never doing it. It was a lovely region, woodsy, balmy, delicious, +and had once been populous, long years before, but now the +people had vanished and the charming paradise was a solitude. +They went away when the surface diggings gave out. In one place, +where a busy little city with banks and newspapers and fire companies +and a mayor and aldermen had been, was nothing but a wide expanse +of emerald turf, with not even the faintest sign that human life +had ever been present there. This was down toward Tuttletown. +In the country neighborhood thereabouts, along the dusty roads, +one found at intervals the prettiest little cottage homes, snug and cozy, +and so cobwebbed with vines snowed thick with roses that the doors +and windows were wholly hidden from sight--sign that these were +deserted homes, forsaken years ago by defeated and disappointed +families who could neither sell them nor give them away. Now and then, +half an hour apart, one came across solitary log cabins of the earliest +mining days, built by the first gold-miners, the predecessors of the +cottage-builders. In some few cases these cabins were still occupied; +and when this was so, you could depend upon it that the occupant +was the very pioneer who had built the cabin; and you could depend +on another thing, too--that he was there because he had once had +his opportunity to go home to the States rich, and had not done it; +had rather lost his wealth, and had then in his humiliation resolved +to sever all communication with his home relatives and friends, +and be to them thenceforth as one dead. Round about California +in that day were scattered a host of these living dead men-- +pride-smitten poor fellows, grizzled and old at forty, whose secret +thoughts were made all of regrets and longings--regrets for their +wasted lives, and longings to be out of the struggle and done with it all. + +It was a lonesome land! Not a sound in all those peaceful expanses +of grass and woods but the drowsy hum of insects; no glimpse +of man or beast; nothing to keep up your spirits and make you glad +to be alive. And so, at last, in the early part of the afternoon, +when I caught sight of a human creature, I felt a most grateful uplift. +This person was a man about forty-five years old, and he was +standing at the gate of one of those cozy little rose-clad cottages +of the sort already referred to. However, this one hadn't +a deserted look; it had the look of being lived in and petted +and cared for and looked after; and so had its front yard, +which was a garden of flowers, abundant, gay, and flourishing. +I was invited in, of course, and required to make myself at home-- +it was the custom of the country. + +It was delightful to be in such a place, after long weeks of daily +and nightly familiarity with miners' cabins--with all which this +implies of dirt floor, never-made beds, tin plates and cups, +bacon and beans and black coffee, and nothing of ornament but war +pictures from the Eastern illustrated papers tacked to the log walls. +That was all hard, cheerless, materialistic desolation, but here was a +nest which had aspects to rest the tired eye and refresh that something +in one's nature which, after long fasting, recognizes, when confronted +by the belongings of art, howsoever cheap and modest they may be, +that it has unconsciously been famishing and now has found nourishment. +I could not have believed that a rag carpet could feast me so, +and so content me; or that there could be such solace to the soul +in wall-paper and framed lithographs, and bright-colored tidies +and lamp-mats, and Windsor chairs, and varnished what-nots, with +sea-shells and books and china vases on them, and the score of little +unclassifiable tricks and touches that a woman's hand distributes +about a home, which one sees without knowing he sees them, yet would +miss in a moment if they were taken away. The delight that was +in my heart showed in my face, and the man saw it and was pleased; +saw it so plainly that he answered it as if it had been spoken. + +"All her work," he said, caressingly; "she did it all herself-- +every bit," and he took the room in with a glance which was full +of affectionate worship. One of those soft Japanese fabrics +with which women drape with careful negligence the upper part of a +picture-frame was out of adjustment. He noticed it, and rearranged +it with cautious pains, stepping back several times to gauge +the effect before he got it to suit him. Then he gave it a light +finishing pat or two with his hand, and said: "She always does that. +You can't tell just what it lacks, but it does lack something +until you've done that--you can see it yourself after it's done, +but that is all you know; you can't find out the law of it. +It's like the finishing pats a mother gives the child's hair +after she's got it combed and brushed, I reckon. I've seen her +fix all these things so much that I can do them all just her way, +though I don't know the law of any of them. But she knows the law. +She knows the why and the how both; but I don't know the why; +I only know the how." + +He took me into a bedroom so that I might wash my hands; such a bedroom +as I had not seen for years: white counterpane, white pillows, +carpeted floor, papered walls, pictures, dressing-table, with mirror +and pin-cushion and dainty toilet things; and in the corner a wash-stand, +with real china-ware bowl and pitcher, and with soap in a china dish, +and on a rack more than a dozen towels--towels too clean and white +for one out of practice to use without some vague sense of profanation. +So my face spoke again, and he answered with gratified words: + +"All her work; she did it all herself--every bit. Nothing here +that hasn't felt the touch of her hand. Now you would think-- +But I mustn't talk so much." + +By this time I was wiping my hands and glancing from detail to detail +of the room's belongings, as one is apt to do when he is in a new place, +where everything he sees is a comfort to his eye and his spirit; +and I became conscious, in one of those unaccountable ways, +you know, that there was something there somewhere that the man +wanted me to discover for myself. I knew it perfectly, and I knew +he was trying to help me by furtive indications with his eye, so I +tried hard to get on the right track, being eager to gratify him. +I failed several times, as I could see out of the corner of my eye +without being told; but at last I knew I must be looking straight +at the thing--knew it from the pleasure issuing in invisible waves +from him. He broke into a happy laugh, and rubbed his hands together, +and cried out: + +"That's it! You've found it. I knew you would. It's her picture." + +I went to the little black-walnut bracket on the farther wall, +and did find there what I had not yet noticed--a daguerreotype-case. +It contained the sweetest girlish face, and the most beautiful, +as it seemed to me, that I had ever seen. The man drank the admiration +from my face, and was fully satisfied. + +"Nineteen her last birthday," he said, as he put the picture back; +"and that was the day we were married. When you see her--ah, just wait +till you see her!" + +"Where is she? When will she be in?" + +"Oh, she's away now. She's gone to see her people. They live +forty or fifty miles from here. She's been gone two weeks today." + +"When do you expect her back?" + +"This is Wednesday. She'll be back Saturday, in the evening-- +about nine o'clock, likely." + +I felt a sharp sense of disappointment. + +"I'm sorry, because I'll be gone then," I said, regretfully. + +"Gone? No--why should you go? Don't go. She'll be disappointed." + +She would be disappointed--that beautiful creature! If she had said +the words herself they could hardly have blessed me more. I was +feeling a deep, strong longing to see her--a longing so supplicating, +so insistent, that it made me afraid. I said to myself: "I will +go straight away from this place, for my peace of mind's sake." + +"You see, she likes to have people come and stop with us-- +people who know things, and can talk--people like you. She delights +in it; for she knows--oh, she knows nearly everything herself, +and can talk, oh, like a bird--and the books she reads, why, you would +be astonished. Don't go; it's only a little while, you know, +and she'll be so disappointed." + +I heard the words, but hardly noticed them, I was so deep in my +thinkings and strugglings. He left me, but I didn't know. +Presently he was back, with the picture case in his hand, and he +held it open before me and said: + +"There, now, tell her to her face you could have stayed to see her, +and you wouldn't." + +That second glimpse broke down my good resolution. I would stay +and take the risk. That night we smoked the tranquil pipe, +and talked till late about various things, but mainly about her; +and certainly I had had no such pleasant and restful time for many +a day. The Thursday followed and slipped comfortably away. +Toward twilight a big miner from three miles away came--one of +the grizzled, stranded pioneers--and gave us warm salutation, +clothed in grave and sober speech. Then he said: + +"I only just dropped over to ask about the little madam, and when +is she coming home. Any news from her?" + +"Oh, yes, a letter. Would you like to hear it, Tom?" + +"Well, I should think I would, if you don't mind, Henry!" + +Henry got the letter out of his wallet, and said he would skip +some of the private phrases, if we were willing; then he went +on and read the bulk of it--a loving, sedate, and altogether +charming and gracious piece of handiwork, with a postscript full +of affectionate regards and messages to Tom, and Joe, and Charley, +and other close friends and neighbors. + +As the reader finished, he glanced at Tom, and cried out: + +"Oho, you're at it again! Take your hands away, and let me see +your eyes. You always do that when I read a letter from her. +I will write and tell her." + +"Oh no, you mustn't, Henry. I'm getting old, you know, and any +little disappointment makes me want to cry. I thought she'd +be here herself, and now you've got only a letter." + +"Well, now, what put that in your head? I thought everybody knew +she wasn't coming till Saturday." + +"Saturday! Why, come to think, I did know it. I wonder +what's the matter with me lately? Certainly I knew it. +Ain't we all getting ready for her? Well, I must be going now. +But I'll be on hand when she comes, old man!" + +Late Friday afternoon another gray veteran tramped over from his +cabin a mile or so away, and said the boys wanted to have a little +gaiety and a good time Saturday night, if Henry thought she wouldn't +be too tired after her journey to be kept up. + +"Tired? She tired! Oh, hear the man! Joe, YOU know she'd sit up +six weeks to please any one of you!" + +When Joe heard that there was a letter, he asked to have it read, +and the loving messages in it for him broke the old fellow all up; +but he said he was such an old wreck that THAT would happen to him +if she only just mentioned his name. "Lord, we miss her so!" +he said. + +Saturday afternoon I found I was taking out my watch pretty often. +Henry noticed it, and said, with a startled look: + +"You don't think she ought to be here soon, do you?" + +I felt caught, and a little embarrassed; but I laughed, and said +it was a habit of mine when I was in a state of expenctancy. +But he didn't seem quite satisfied; and from that time on he began +to show uneasiness. Four times he walked me up the road to a point +whence we could see a long distance; and there he would stand, +shading his eyes with his hand, and looking. Several times he said: + +"I'm getting worried, I'm getting right down worried. I know +she's not due till about nine o'clock, and yet something seems +to be trying to warn me that something's happened. You don't +think anything has happened, do you?" + +I began to get pretty thoroughly ashamed of him for his childishness; +and at last, when he repeated that imploring question still another time, +I lost my patience for the moment, and spoke pretty brutally to him. +It seemed to shrivel him up and cow him; and he looked so wounded +and so humble after that, that I detested myself for having done +the cruel and unnecessary thing. And so I was glad when Charley, +another veteran, arrived toward the edge of the evening, and nestled +up to Henry to hear the letter read, and talked over the preparations +for the welcome. Charley fetched out one hearty speech after another, +and did his best to drive away his friend's bodings and apprehensions. + +"Anything HAPPENED to her? Henry, that's pure nonsense. There isn't +anything going to happen to her; just make your mind easy as to that. +What did the letter say? Said she was well, didn't it? And said +she'd be here by nine o'clock, didn't it? Did you ever know her +to fail of her word? Why, you know you never did. Well, then, +don't you fret; she'll BE here, and that's absolutely certain, +and as sure as you are born. Come, now, let's get to decorating-- +not much time left." + +Pretty soon Tom and Joe arrived, and then all hands set about adoring +the house with flowers. Toward nine the three miners said that +as they had brought their instruments they might as well tune up, +for the boys and girls would soon be arriving now, and hungry for +a good, old-fashioned break-down. A fiddle, a banjo, and a clarinet-- +these were the instruments. The trio took their places side by side, +and began to play some rattling dance-music, and beat time with +their big boots. + +It was getting very close to nine. Henry was standing in the door +with his eyes directed up the road, his body swaying to the torture +of his mental distress. He had been made to drink his wife's +health and safety several times, and now Tom shouted: + +"All hands stand by! One more drink, and she's here!" + +Joe brought the glasses on a waiter, and served the party. +I reached for one of the two remaining glasses, but Joe growled +under his breath: + +"Drop that! Take the other." + +Which I did. Henry was served last. He had hardly swallowed his +drink when the clock began to strike. He listened till it finished, +his face growing pale and paler; then he said: + +"Boys, I'm sick with fear. Help me--I want to lie down!" + +They helped him to the sofa. He began to nestle and drowse, +but presently spoke like one talking in his sleep, and said: +"Did I hear horses' feet? Have they come?" + +One of the veterans answered, close to his ear: "It was Jimmy +Parish come to say the party got delayed, but they're right up +the road a piece, and coming along. Her horse is lame, but she'll +be here in half an hour." + +"Oh, I'm SO thankful nothing has happened!" + +He was asleep almost before the words were out of his mouth. +In a moment those handy men had his clothes off, and had tucked +him into his bed in the chamber where I had washed my hands. +They closed the door and came back. Then they seemed preparing to leave; +but I said: "Please don't go, gentlemen. She won't know me; I am +a stranger." + +They glanced at each other. Then Joe said: + +"She? Poor thing, she's been dead nineteen years!" + +"Dead?" + +"That or worse. She went to see her folks half a year after she +was married, and on her way back, on a Saturday evening, the Indians +captured her within five miles of this place, and she's never been +heard of since." + +"And he lost his mind in consequence?" + +"Never has been sane an hour since. But he only gets bad when +that time of year comes round. Then we begin to drop in here, +three days before she's due, to encourage him up, and ask if he's heard +from her, and Saturday we all come and fix up the house with flowers, +and get everything ready for a dance. We've done it every year +for nineteen years. The first Saturday there was twenty-seven +of us, without counting the girls; there's only three of us now, +and the girls are gone. We drug him to sleep, or he would go wild; +then he's all right for another year--thinks she's with him till the +last three or four days come round; then he begins to look for her, +and gets out his poor old letter, and we come and ask him to read it +to us. Lord, she was a darling!" + + +*** + + + + +A HELPLESS SITUATION + + + +Once or twice a year I get a letter of a certain pattern, +a pattern that never materially changes, in form and substance, +yet I cannot get used to that letter--it always astonishes me. +It affects me as the locomotive always affects me: I saw to myself, +"I have seen you a thousand times, you always look the same way, +yet you are always a wonder, and you are always impossible; to contrive +you is clearly beyond human genius--you can't exist, you don't exist, +yet here you are!" + +I have a letter of that kind by me, a very old one. I yearn to print it, +and where is the harm? The writer of it is dead years ago, no doubt, +and if I conceal her name and address--her this-world address-- +I am sure her shade will not mind. And with it I wish to print +the answer which I wrote at the time but probably did not send. +If it went--which is not likely--it went in the form of a copy, +for I find the original still here, pigeonholed with the said letter. +To that kind of letters we all write answers which we do not send, +fearing to hurt where we have no desire to hurt; I have done it many +a time, and this is doubtless a case of the sort. + + +THE LETTER + + +X------, California, JUNE 3, 1879. + +Mr. S. L. Clemens, HARTFORD, CONN.: + + +Dear Sir,--You will doubtless be surprised to know who has presumed +to write and ask a favor of you. Let your memory go back to your days +in the Humboldt mines--'62-'63. You will remember, you and Clagett +and Oliver and the old blacksmith Tillou lived in a lean-to which was +half-way up the gulch, and there were six log cabins in the camp-- +strung pretty well separated up the gulch from its mouth at the +desert to where the last claim was, at the divide. The lean-to +you lived in was the one with a canvas roof that the cow fell down +through one night, as told about by you in ROUGHING IT--my uncle +Simmons remembers it very well. He lived in the principal cabin, +half-way up the divide, along with Dixon and Parker and Smith. +It had two rooms, one for kitchen and the other for bunks, +and was the only one that had. You and your party were there on +the great night, the time they had dried-apple-pie, Uncle Simmons +often speaks of it. It seems curious that dried-apple-pie should +have seemed such a great thing, but it was, and it shows how far +Humboldt was out of the world and difficult to get to, and how slim +the regular bill of fare was. Sixteen years ago--it is a long time. +I was a little girl then, only fourteen. I never saw you, I lived +in Washoe. But Uncle Simmons ran across you every now and then, +all during those weeks that you and party were there working +your claim which was like the rest. The camp played out long +and long ago, there wasn't silver enough in it to make a button. +You never saw my husband, but he was there after you left, AND LIVED +IN THAT VERY LEAN-TO, a bachelor then but married to me now. +He often wishes there had been a photographer there in those days, +he would have taken the lean-to. He got hurt in the old Hal Clayton +claim that was abandoned like the others, putting in a blast +and not climbing out quick enough, though he scrambled the best +he could. It landed him clear down on the train and hit a Piute. +For weeks they thought he would not get over it but he did, +and is all right, now. Has been ever since. This is a long +introduction but it is the only way I can make myself known. +The favor I ask I feel assured your generous heart will grant: +Give me some advice about a book I have written. I do not claim +anything for it only it is mostly true and as interesting as most +of the books of the times. I am unknown in the literary world +and you know what that means unless one has some one of influence +(like yourself) to help you by speaking a good word for you. +I would like to place the book on royalty basis plan with any one you +would suggest. + +This is a secret from my husband and family. I intend +it as a surprise in case I get it published. + +Feeling you will take an interest in this and if possible write +me a letter to some publisher, or, better still, if you could see +them for me and then let me hear. + +I appeal to you to grant me this favor. With deepest gratitude I +think you for your attention. + + +One knows, without inquiring, that the twin of that embarrassing +letter is forever and ever flying in this and that and the other +direction across the continent in the mails, daily, nightly, hourly, +unceasingly, unrestingly. It goes to every well-known merchant, +and railway official, and manufacturer, and capitalist, and Mayor, +and Congressman, and Governor, and editor, and publisher, and author, +and broker, and banker--in a word, to every person who is supposed +to have "influence." It always follows the one pattern: "You do +not know me, BUT YOU ONCE KNEW A RELATIVE OF MINE," etc., etc. +We should all like to help the applicants, we should all be glad +to do it, we should all like to return the sort of answer that +is desired, but--Well, there is not a thing we can do that would +be a help, for not in any instance does that latter ever come from +anyone who CAN be helped. The struggler whom you COULD help does +his own helping; it would not occur to him to apply to you, stranger. +He has talent and knows it, and he goes into his fight eagerly and +with energy and determination--all alone, preferring to be alone. +That pathetic letter which comes to you from the incapable, +the unhelpable--how do you who are familiar with it answer it? +What do you find to say? You do not want to inflict a wound; +you hunt ways to avoid that. What do you find? How do you get out +of your hard place with a contend conscience? Do you try to explain? +The old reply of mine to such a letter shows that I tried that once. +Was I satisfied with the result? Possibly; and possibly not; +probably not; almost certainly not. I have long ago forgotten all +about it. But, anyway, I append my effort: + + +THE REPLY + + +I know Mr. H., and I will go to him, dear madam, if upon reflection +you find you still desire it. There will be a conversation. +I know the form it will take. It will be like this: + + +MR. H. How do her books strike you? + +MR. CLEMENS. I am not acquainted with them. + +H. Who has been her publisher? + +C. I don't know. + +H. She HAS one, I suppose? + +C. I--I think not. + +H. Ah. You think this is her first book? + +C. Yes--I suppose so. I think so. + +H. What is it about? What is the character of it? + +C. I believe I do not know. + +H. Have you seen it? + +C. Well--no, I haven't. + +H. Ah-h. How long have you known her? + +C. I don't know her. + +H. Don't know her? + +C. No. + +H. Ah-h. How did you come to be interested in her book, then? + +C. Well, she--she wrote and asked me to find a publisher for her, +and mentioned you. + +H. Why should she apply to you instead of me? + +C. She wished me to use my influence. + +H. Dear me, what has INFLUENCE to do with such a matter? + +C. Well, I think she thought you would be more likely to examine +her book if you were influenced. + +H. Why, what we are here FOR is to examine books--anybody's book +that comes along. It's our BUSINESS. Why should we turn away +a book unexamined because it's a stranger's? It would be foolish. +No publisher does it. On what ground did she request your influence, +since you do not know her? She must have thought you knew her +literature and could speak for it. Is that it? + +C. No; she knew I didn't. + +H. Well, what then? She had a reason of SOME sort for believing you +competent to recommend her literature, and also under obligations +to do it? + +C. Yes, I--I knew her uncle. + +H. Knew her UNCLE? + +C. Yes. + +H. Upon my word! So, you knew her uncle; her uncle knows her literature; +he endorses it to you; the chain is complete, nothing further needed; +you are satisfied, and therefore-- + +C. NO, that isn't all, there are other ties. I know the cabin +her uncle lived in, in the mines; I knew his partners, too; also I +came near knowing her husband before she married him, and I DID +know the abandoned shaft where a premature blast went off and he +went flying through the air and clear down to the trail and hit +an Indian in the back with almost fatal consequences. + +H. To HIM, or to the Indian? + +C. She didn't say which it was. + +H. (WITH A SIGH). It certainly beats the band! You don't know HER, +you don't know her literature, you don't know who got hurt when +the blast went off, you don't know a single thing for us to build +an estimate of her book upon, so far as I-- + +C. I knew her uncle. You are forgetting her uncle. + +H. Oh, what use is HE? Did you know him long? How long was it? + +C. Well, I don't know that I really knew him, but I must have +met him, anyway. I think it was that way; you can't tell about +these things, you know, except when they are recent. + +H. Recent? When was all this? + +C. Sixteen years ago. + +H. What a basis to judge a book upon! As first you said you knew him, +and now you don't know whether you did or not. + +C. Oh yes, I know him; anyway, I think I thought I did; I'm perfectly +certain of it. + +H. What makes you think you thought you knew him? + +C. Why, she says I did, herself. + +H. SHE says so! + +C. Yes, she does, and I DID know him, too, though I don't remember +it now. + +H. Come--how can you know it when you don't remember it. + +C. _I_ don't know. That is, I don't know the process, but I DO know +lots of things that I don't remember, and remember lots of things +that I don't know. It's so with every educated person. + +H. (AFTER A PAUSE). Is your time valuable? + +C. No--well, not very. + +H. Mine is. + +So I came away then, because he was looking tired. Overwork, I reckon; +I never do that; I have seen the evil effects of it. My mother +was always afraid I would overwork myself, but I never did. + +Dear madam, you see how it would happen if I went there. He would +ask me those questions, and I would try to answer them to suit him, +and he would hunt me here and there and yonder and get me embarrassed +more and more all the time, and at last he would look tired on +account of overwork, and there it would end and nothing done. +I wish I could be useful to you, but, you see, they do not +care for uncles or any of those things; it doesn't move them, +it doesn't have the least effect, they don't care for anything +but the literature itself, and they as good as despise influence. +But they do care for books, and are eager to get them and examine them, +no matter whence they come, nor from whose pen. If you will send +yours to a publisher--any publisher--he will certainly examine it, +I can assure you of that. + + +*** + + + +A TELEPHONIC CONVERSATION + + + +Consider that a conversation by telephone--when you are simply siting +by and not taking any part in that conversation--is one of the solemnest +curiosities of modern life. Yesterday I was writing a deep article +on a sublime philosophical subject while such a conversation was +going on in the room. I notice that one can always write best when +somebody is talking through a telephone close by. Well, the thing +began in this way. A member of our household came in and asked me +to have our house put into communication with Mr. Bagley's downtown. +I have observed, in many cities, that the sex always shrink from +calling up the central office themselves. I don't know why, +but they do. So I touched the bell, and this talk ensued: + +CENTRAL OFFICE. (GRUFFY.) Hello! + +I. Is it the Central Office? + +C. O. Of course it is. What do you want? + +I. Will you switch me on to the Bagleys, please? + +C. O. All right. Just keep your ear to the telephone. + +Then I heard K-LOOK, K-LOOK, K'LOOK--KLOOK-KLOOK-KLOOK-LOOK-LOOK! then +a horrible "gritting" of teeth, and finally a piping female voice: +Y-e-s? (RISING INFLECTION.) Did you wish to speak to me? + +Without answering, I handed the telephone to the applicant, and sat down. +Then followed that queerest of all the queer things in this world-- +a conversation with only one end of it. You hear questions asked; +you don't hear the answer. You hear invitations given; you hear +no thanks in return. You have listening pauses of dead silence, +followed by apparently irrelevant and unjustifiable exclamations +of glad surprise or sorrow or dismay. You can't make head or tail +of the talk, because you never hear anything that the person at the +other end of the wire says. Well, I heard the following remarkable +series of observations, all from the one tongue, and all shouted-- +for you can't ever persuade the sex to speak gently into a telephone: + +Yes? Why, how did THAT happen? + +Pause. + +What did you say? + +Pause. + +Oh no, I don't think it was. + +Pause. + +NO! Oh no, I didn't mean THAT. I meant, put it in while it +is still boiling--or just before it COMES to a boil. + +Pause. + +WHAT? + +Pause. + +I turned it over with a backstitch on the selvage edge. + +Pause. + +Yes, I like that way, too; but I think it's better to baste it +on with Valenciennes or bombazine, or something of that sort. +It gives it such an air--and attracts so much noise. + +Pause. + +It's forty-ninth Deuteronomy, sixty-forth to ninety-seventh inclusive. +I think we ought all to read it often. + +Pause. + +Perhaps so; I generally use a hair pin. + +Pause. + +What did you say? (ASIDE.) Children, do be quiet! + +Pause + +OH! B FLAT! Dear me, I thought you said it was the cat! + +Pause. + +Since WHEN? + +Pause. + +Why, _I_ never heard of it. + +Pause. + +You astound me! It seems utterly impossible! + +Pause. + +WHO did? + +Pause. + +Good-ness gracious! + +Pause. + +Well, what IS this world coming to? Was it right in CHURCH? + +Pause. + +And was her MOTHER there? + +Pause. + +Why, Mrs. Bagley, I should have died of humiliation! What did +they DO? + +Long pause. + +I can't be perfectly sure, because I haven't the notes by me; +but I think it goes something like this: te-rolly-loll-loll, loll +lolly-loll-loll, O tolly-loll-loll-LEE-LY-LI-I-do! And then REPEAT, +you know. + +Pause. + +Yes, I think it IS very sweet--and very solemn and impressive, +if you get the andantino and the pianissimo right. + +Pause. + +Oh, gum-drops, gum-drops! But I never allow them to eat striped candy. +And of course they CAN'T, till they get their teeth, anyway. + +Pause. + +WHAT? + +Pause. + +Oh, not in the least--go right on. He's here writing--it doesn't +bother HIM. + +Pause. + +Very well, I'll come if I can. (ASIDE.) Dear me, how it does tire +a person's arm to hold this thing up so long! I wish she'd-- + +Pause. + +Oh no, not at all; I LIKE to talk--but I'm afraid I'm keeping you +from your affairs. + +Pause. + +Visitors? + +Pause. + +No, we never use butter on them. + +Pause. + +Yes, that is a very good way; but all the cook-books say they +are very unhealthy when they are out of season. And HE doesn't +like them, anyway--especially canned. + +Pause. + +Oh, I think that is too high for them; we have never paid over fifty +cents a bunch. + +Pause. + +MUST you go? Well, GOOD-by. + +Pause. + +Yes, I think so. GOOD-by. + +Pause. + +Four o'clock, then--I'll be ready. GOOD-by. + +Pause. + +Thank you ever so much. GOOD-by. + +Pause. + +Oh, not at all!--just as fresh--WHICH? Oh, I'm glad to hear you +say that. GOOD-by. + +(Hangs up the telephone and says, "Oh, it DOES tire a person's +arm so!") + +A man delivers a single brutal "Good-by," and that is the end of it. +Not so with the gentle sex--I say it in their praise; they cannot +abide abruptness. + + + +*** + + +EDWARD MILLS AND GEORGE BENTON: A TALE + + + +These two were distantly related to each other--seventh cousins, +or something of that sort. While still babies they became orphans, +and were adopted by the Brants, a childless couple, who quickly +grew very fond of them. The Brants were always saying: "Be pure, +honest, sober, industrious, and considerate of others, and success +in life is assured." The children heard this repeated some thousands +of times before they understood it; they could repeat it themselves +long before they could say the Lord's Prayer; it was painted over +the nursery door, and was about the first thing they learned to read. +It was destined to be the unswerving rule of Edward Mills's life. +Sometimes the Brants changed the wording a little, and said: +"Be pure, honest, sober, industrious, considerate, and you will never +lack friends." + +Baby Mills was a comfort to everybody about him. When he wanted +candy and could not have it, he listened to reason, and contented +himself without it. When Baby Benton wanted candy, he cried for it +until he got it. Baby Mills took care of his toys; Baby Benton +always destroyed his in a very brief time, and then made himself +so insistently disagreeable that, in order to have peace in the house, +little Edward was persuaded to yield up his play-things to him. + +When the children were a little older, Georgie became a heavy expense +in one respect: he took no care of his clothes; consequently, he +shone frequently in new ones, with was not the case with Eddie. +The boys grew apace. Eddie was an increasing comfort, Georgie an +increasing solicitude. It was always sufficient to say, in answer +to Eddie's petitions, "I would rather you would not do it"-- +meaning swimming, skating, picnicking, berrying, circusing, +and all sorts of things which boys delight in. But NO answer +was sufficient for Georgie; he had to be humored in his desires, +or he would carry them with a high hand. Naturally, no boy got +more swimming skating, berrying, and so forth than he; no body +ever had a better time. The good Brants did not allow the boys +to play out after nine in summer evenings; they were sent to bed +at that hour; Eddie honorably remained, but Georgie usually slipped +out of the window toward ten, and enjoyed himself until midnight. +It seemed impossible to break Georgie of this bad habit, but the +Brants managed it at last by hiring him, with apples and marbles, +to stay in. The good Brants gave all their time and attention +to vain endeavors to regulate Georgie; they said, with grateful +tears in their eyes, that Eddie needed no efforts of theirs, +he was so good, so considerate, and in all ways so perfect. + +By and by the boys were big enough to work, so they were apprenticed +to a trade: Edward went voluntarily; George was coaxed and bribed. +Edward worked hard and faithfully, and ceased to be an expense to the +good Brants; they praised him, so did his master; but George ran away, +and it cost Mr. Brant both money and trouble to hunt him up and get +him back. By and by he ran away again--more money and more trouble. +He ran away a third time--and stole a few things to carry with him. +Trouble and expense for Mr. Brant once more; and, besides, it was with +the greatest difficulty that he succeeded in persuading the master +to let the youth go unprosecuted for the theft. + +Edward worked steadily along, and in time became a full partner +in his master's business. George did not improve; he kept the loving +hearts of his aged benefactors full of trouble, and their hands full +of inventive activities to protect him from ruin. Edward, as a boy, +had interested himself in Sunday-schools, debating societies, +penny missionary affairs, anti-tobacco organizations, anti-profanity +associations, and all such things; as a man, he was a quiet but +steady and reliable helper in the church, the temperance societies, +and in all movements looking to the aiding and uplifting of men. This +excited no remark, attracted no attention--for it was his "natural bent." + +Finally, the old people died. The will testified their loving +pride in Edward, and left their little property to George-- +because he "needed it"; whereas, "owing to a bountiful Providence," +such was not the case with Edward. The property was left to +George conditionally: he must buy out Edward's partner with it; +else it must go to a benevolent organization called the Prisoner's +Friend Society. The old people left a letter, in which they begged +their dear son Edward to take their place and watch over George, +and help and shield him as they had done. + +Edward dutifully acquiesced, and George became his partner in +the business. He was not a valuable partner: he had been meddling +with drink before; he soon developed into a constant tippler now, +and his flesh and eyes showed the fact unpleasantly. Edward had +been courting a sweet and kindly spirited girl for some time. +They loved each other dearly, and--But about this period George began +to haunt her tearfully and imploringly, and at last she went crying +to Edward, and said her high and holy duty was plain before her-- +she must not let her own selfish desires interfere with it: +she must marry "poor George" and "reform him." It would break +her heart, she knew it would, and so on; but duty was duty. +So she married George, and Edward's heart came very near breaking, +as well as her own. However, Edward recovered, and married another girl-- +a very excellent one she was, too. + +Children came to both families. Mary did her honest best to reform +her husband, but the contract was too large. George went on drinking, +and by and by he fell to misusing her and the little ones sadly. +A great many good people strove with George--they were always at it, +in fact--but he calmly took such efforts as his due and their duty, +and did not mend his ways. He added a vice, presently--that of +secret gambling. He got deeply in debt; he borrowed money on the +firm's credit, as quietly as he could, and carried this system so far +and so successfully that one morning the sheriff took possession of +the establishment, and the two cousins found themselves penniless. + +Times were hard, now, and they grew worse. Edward moved his family +into a garret, and walked the streets day and night, seeking work. +He begged for it, but it was really not to be had. He was astonished +to see how soon his face became unwelcome; he was astonished +and hurt to see how quickly the ancient interest which people had +had in him faded out and disappeared. Still, he MUST get work; +so he swallowed his chagrin, and toiled on in search of it. +At last he got a job of carrying bricks up a ladder in a hod, +and was a grateful man in consequence; but after that NOBODY knew +him or cared anything about him. He was not able to keep up +his dues in the various moral organizations to which he belonged, +and had to endure the sharp pain of seeing himself brought under +the disgrace of suspension. + +But the faster Edward died out of public knowledge and interest, +the faster George rose in them. He was found lying, ragged and drunk, +in the gutter one morning. A member of the Ladies' Temperance Refuge +fished him out, took him in hand, got up a subscription for him, +kept him sober a whole week, then got a situation for him. +An account of it was published. + +General attention was thus drawn to the poor fellow, and a great +many people came forward and helped him toward reform with their +countenance and encouragement. He did not drink a drop for two months, +and meantime was the pet of the good. Then he fell--in the gutter; +and there was general sorrow and lamentation. But the noble +sisterhood rescued him again. They cleaned him up, they fed him, +they listened to the mournful music of his repentances, they got +him his situation again. An account of this, also, was published, +and the town was drowned in happy tears over the re-restoration +of the poor beast and struggling victim of the fatal bowl. +A grand temperance revival was got up, and after some rousing +speeches had been made the chairman said, impressively: "We are +not about to call for signers; and I think there is a spectacle +in store for you which not many in this house will be able to view +with dry eyes." There was an eloquent pause, and then George Benton, +escorted by a red-sashed detachment of the Ladies of the Refuge, +stepped forward upon the platform and signed the pledge. The air +was rent with applause, and everybody cried for joy. Everybody wrung +the hand of the new convert when the meeting was over; his salary +was enlarged next day; he was the talk of the town, and its hero. +An account of it was published. + +George Benton fell, regularly, every three months, but was faithfully +rescued and wrought with, every time, and good situations were +found for him. Finally, he was taken around the country lecturing, +as a reformed drunkard, and he had great houses and did an immense +amount of good. + +He was so popular at home, and so trusted--during his sober intervals-- +that he was enabled to use the name of a principal citizen, and get +a large sum of money at the bank. A mighty pressure was brought +to bear to save him from the consequences of his forgery, and it +was partially successful--he was "sent up" for only two years. +When, at the end of a year, the tireless efforts of the benevolent +were crowned with success, and he emerged from the penitentiary +with a pardon in his pocket, the Prisoner's Friend Society met him +at the door with a situation and a comfortable salary, and all +the other benevolent people came forward and gave him advice, +encouragement and help. Edward Mills had once applied to the Prisoner's +Friend Society for a situation, when in dire need, but the question, +"Have you been a prisoner?" made brief work of his case. + +While all these things were going on, Edward Mills had been +quietly making head against adversity. He was still poor, but was +in receipt of a steady and sufficient salary, as the respected +and trusted cashier of a bank. George Benton never came near him, +and was never heard to inquire about him. George got to indulging +in long absences from the town; there were ill reports about him, +but nothing definite. + +One winter's night some masked burglars forced their way into the bank, +and found Edward Mills there alone. They commanded him to reveal +the "combination," so that they could get into the safe. He refused. +They threatened his life. He said his employers trusted him, +and he could not be traitor to that trust. He could die, if he must, +but while he lived he would be faithful; he would not yield up +the "combination." The burglars killed him. + +The detectives hunted down the criminals; the chief one proved +to be George Benton. A wide sympathy was felt for the widow and +orphans of the dead man, and all the newspapers in the land begged +that all the banks in the land would testify their appreciation +of the fidelity and heroism of the murdered cashier by coming +forward with a generous contribution of money in aid of his family, +now bereft of support. The result was a mass of solid cash amounting +to upward of five hundred dollars--an average of nearly three-eights +of a cent for each bank in the Union. The cashier's own bank +testified its gratitude by endeavoring to show (but humiliatingly +failed in it) that the peerless servant's accounts were not square, +and that he himself had knocked his brains out with a bludgeon +to escape detection and punishment. + +George Benton was arraigned for trial. Then everybody seemed to +forget the widow and orphans in their solicitude for poor George. +Everything that money and influence could do was done to save him, +but it all failed; he was sentenced to death. Straightway the +Governor was besieged with petitions for commutation or pardon; +they were brought by tearful young girls; by sorrowful old maids; +by deputations of pathetic widows; by shoals of impressive orphans. +But no, the Governor--for once--would not yield. + +Now George Benton experienced religion. The glad news flew all around. +From that time forth his cell was always full of girls and women and +fresh flowers; all the day long there was prayer, and hymn-singing, +and thanksgiving, and homilies, and tears, with never an interruption, +except an occasional five-minute intermission for refreshments. + +This sort of thing continued up to the very gallows, and George +Benton went proudly home, in the black cap, before a wailing +audience of the sweetest and best that the region could produce. +His grave had fresh flowers on it every day, for a while, +and the head-stone bore these words, under a hand pointing aloft: +"He has fought the good fight." + +The brave cashier's head-stone has this inscription: "Be pure, +honest, sober, industrious, considerate, and you will never--" + +Nobody knows who gave the order to leave it that way, but it was +so given. + +The cashier's family are in stringent circumstances, now, it is said; +but no matter; a lot of appreciative people, who were not willing +that an act so brave and true as his should go unrewarded, +have collected forty-two thousand dollars--and built a Memorial +Church with it. + + +*** + + + +THE FIVE BOONS OF LIFE + + + +Chapter I + + +In the morning of life came a good fairy with her basket, and said: + +"Here are gifts. Take one, leave the others. And be wary, +chose wisely; oh, choose wisely! for only one of them is valuable." + +The gifts were five: Fame, Love, Riches, Pleasure, Death. +The youth said, eagerly: + +"There is no need to consider"; and he chose Pleasure. + +He went out into the world and sought out the pleasures that youth +delights in. But each in its turn was short-lived and disappointing, +vain and empty; and each, departing, mocked him. In the end he said: +"These years I have wasted. If I could but choose again, I would +choose wisely." + + + +Chapter II + + +The fairy appeared, and said: + +"Four of the gifts remain. Choose once more; and oh, remember-- +time is flying, and only one of them is precious." + +The man considered long, then chose Love; and did not mark the tears +that rose in the fairy's eyes. + +After many, many years the man sat by a coffin, in an empty home. +And he communed with himself, saying: "One by one they have gone +away and left me; and now she lies here, the dearest and the last. +Desolation after desolation has swept over me; for each hour +of happiness the treacherous trader, Love, as sold me I have paid +a thousand hours of grief. Out of my heart of hearts I curse him." + + + +Chapter III + + +"Choose again." It was the fairy speaking. + +"The years have taught you wisdom--surely it must be so. +Three gifts remain. Only one of them has any worth--remember it, +and choose warily." + +The man reflected long, then chose Fame; and the fairy, sighing, +went her way. + +Years went by and she came again, and stood behind the man where he +sat solitary in the fading day, thinking. And she knew his thought: + +"My name filled the world, and its praises were on every tongue, +and it seemed well with me for a little while. How little a while +it was! Then came envy; then detraction; then calumny; then hate; +then persecution. Then derision, which is the beginning of the end. +And last of all came pity, which is the funeral of fame. Oh, +the bitterness and misery of renown! target for mud in its prime, +for contempt and compassion in its decay." + + + +Chapter IV + + +"Chose yet again." It was the fairy's voice. + +"Two gifts remain. And do not despair. In the beginning there +was but one that was precious, and it is still here." + +"Wealth--which is power! How blind I was!" said the man. +"Now, at last, life will be worth the living. I will spend, +squander, dazzle. These mockers and despisers will crawl in the +dirt before me, and I will feed my hungry heart with their envy. +I will have all luxuries, all joys, all enchantments of the spirit, +all contentments of the body that man holds dear. I will buy, +buy, buy! deference, respect, esteem, worship--every pinchbeck +grace of life the market of a trivial world can furnish forth. +I have lost much time, and chosen badly heretofore, but let that pass; +I was ignorant then, and could but take for best what seemed so." + +Three short years went by, and a day came when the man sat shivering +in a mean garret; and he was gaunt and wan and hollow-eyed, +and clothed in rags; and he was gnawing a dry crust and mumbling: + +"Curse all the world's gifts, for mockeries and gilded lies! +And miscalled, every one. They are not gifts, but merely lendings. +Pleasure, Love, Fame, Riches: they are but temporary disguises for +lasting realities--Pain, Grief, Shame, Poverty. The fairy said true; +in all her store there was but one gift which was precious, +only one that was not valueless. How poor and cheap and mean I +know those others now to be, compared with that inestimable one, +that dear and sweet and kindly one, that steeps in dreamless and +enduring sleep the pains that persecute the body, and the shames +and griefs that eat the mind and heart. Bring it! I am weary, +I would rest." + + + +Chapter V + + +The fairy came, bringing again four of the gifts, but Death was wanting. +She said: + +"I gave it to a mother's pet, a little child. It was ignorant, +but trusted me, asking me to choose for it. You did not ask me +to choose." + +"Oh, miserable me! What is left for me?" + +"What not even you have deserved: the wanton insult of Old Age." + + +*** + + + +THE FIRST WRITING-MACHINES + + +From My Unpublished Autobiography + + + +Some days ago a correspondent sent in an old typewritten sheet, +faded by age, containing the following letter over the signature +of Mark Twain: + + +"Hartford, March 10, 1875. + + +"Please do not use my name in any way. Please do not even divulge +that fact that I own a machine. I have entirely stopped using +the typewriter, for the reason that I never could write a letter +with it to anybody without receiving a request by return mail that I +would not only describe the machine, but state what progress I had +made in the use of it, etc., etc. I don't like to write letters, +and so I don't want people to know I own this curiosity-breeding +little joker." + + +A note was sent to Mr. Clemens asking him if the letter was genuine +and whether he really had a typewriter as long ago as that. +Mr. Clemens replied that his best answer is the following chapter +from his unpublished autobiography: + + + +1904. VILLA QUARTO, FLORENCE, JANUARY. + + +Dictating autobiography to a typewriter is a new experience for me, +but it goes very well, and is going to save time and "language"-- +the kind of language that soothes vexation. + +I have dictated to a typewriter before--but not autobiography. +Between that experience and the present one there lies a mighty gap-- +more than thirty years! It is sort of lifetime. In that wide interval +much has happened--to the type-machine as well as to the rest of us. +At the beginning of that interval a type-machine was a curiosity. +The person who owned one was a curiosity, too. But now it is the +other way about: the person who DOESN'T own one is a curiosity. +I saw a type-machine for the first time in--what year? I suppose it +was 1873--because Nasby was with me at the time, and it was in Boston. +We must have been lecturing, or we could not have been in Boston, +I take it. I quitted the platform that season. + +But never mind about that, it is no matter. Nasby and I saw +the machine through a window, and went in to look at it. +The salesman explained it to us, showed us samples of its work, +and said it could do fifty-seven words a minute--a statement +which we frankly confessed that we did not believe. So he put +his type-girl to work, and we timed her by the watch. She actually +did the fifty-seven in sixty seconds. We were partly convinced, +but said it probably couldn't happen again. But it did. +We timed the girl over and over again--with the same result always: +she won out. She did her work on narrow slips of paper, and we +pocketed them as fast as she turned them out, to show as curiosities. +The price of the machine was one hundred and twenty-five dollars. +I bought one, and we went away very much excited. + +At the hotel we got out our slips and were a little disappointed +to find that they contained the same words. The girl had economized +time and labor by using a formula which she knew by heart. +However, we argued--safely enough--that the FIRST type-girl must +naturally take rank with the first billiard-player: neither of them +could be expected to get out of the game any more than a third or a +half of what was in it. If the machine survived--IF it survived-- +experts would come to the front, by and by, who would double the girl's +output without a doubt. They would do one hundred words a minute-- +my talking speed on the platform. That score has long ago been beaten. + +At home I played with the toy, repeated and repeating and repeated "The +Boy stood on the Burning Deck," until I could turn that boy's adventure +out at the rate of twelve words a minute; then I resumed the pen, +for business, and only worked the machine to astonish inquiring visitors. +They carried off many reams of the boy and his burning deck. + +By and by I hired a young woman, and did my first dictating (letters, +merely), and my last until now. The machine did not do both capitals +and lower case (as now), but only capitals. Gothic capitals they were, +and sufficiently ugly. I remember the first letter I dictated. +it was to Edward Bok, who was a boy then. I was not acquainted +with him at that time. His present enterprising spirit is not new-- +he had it in that early day. He was accumulating autographs, and was +not content with mere signatures, he wanted a whole autograph LETTER. +I furnished it--in type-written capitals, SIGNATURE AND ALL. +It was long; it was a sermon; it contained advice; also reproaches. +I said writing was my TRADE, my bread-and-butter; I said it was +not fair to ask a man to give away samples of his trade; would he +ask the blacksmith for a horseshoe? would he ask the doctor for +a corpse? + +Now I come to an important matter--as I regard it. In the year +'74 the young woman copied a considerable part of a book of mine +ON THE MACHINE. In a previous chapter of this Autobiography I +have claimed that I was the first person in the world that ever had +a telephone in the house for practical purposes; I will now claim-- +until dispossess--that I was the first person in the world to APPLY +THE TYPE-MACHINE TO LITERATURE. That book must have been THE +ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER. I wrote the first half of it in '72, +the rest of it in '74. My machinist type-copied a book for me +in '74, so I concluded it was that one. + +That early machine was full of caprices, full of defects--devilish ones. +It had as many immoralities as the machine of today has virtues. +After a year or two I found that it was degrading my character, +so I thought I would give it to Howells. He was reluctant, for he +was suspicious of novelties and unfriendly toward them, and he remains +so to this day. But I persuaded him. He had great confidence in me, +and I got him to believe things about the machine that I did not +believe myself. He took it home to Boston, and my morals began +to improve, but his have never recovered. + +He kept it six months, and then returned it to me. I gave it away +twice after that, but it wouldn't stay; it came back. Then I +gave it to our coachman, Patrick McAleer, who was very grateful, +because he did not know the animal, and thought I was trying to +make him wiser and better. As soon as he got wiser and better he +traded it to a heretic for a side-saddle which he could not use, +and there my knowledge of its history ends. + + +*** + + + +ITALIAN WITHOUT A MASTER + + + +It is almost a fortnight now that I am domiciled in a medieval +villa in the country, a mile or two from Florence. I cannot speak +the language; I am too old not to learn how, also too busy when I +am busy, and too indolent when I am not; wherefore some will +imagine that I am having a dull time of it. But it is not so. +The "help" are all natives; they talk Italian to me, I answer +in English; I do not understand them, they do not understand me, +consequently no harm is done, and everybody is satisfied. In order +to be just and fair, I throw in an Italian word when I have one, +and this has a good influence. I get the word out of the morning paper. +I have to use it while it is fresh, for I find that Italian words +do not keep in this climate. They fade toward night, and next +morning they are gone. But it is no matter; I get a new one out +of the paper before breakfast, and thrill the domestics with it +while it lasts. I have no dictionary, and I do not want one; +I can select words by the sound, or by orthographic aspect. +Many of them have French or German or English look, and these are +the ones I enslave for the day's service. That is, as a rule. +Not always. If I find a learnable phrase that has an imposing look +and warbles musically along I do not care to know the meaning of it; +I pay it out to the first applicant, knowing that if I pronounce it +carefully HE will understand it, and that's enough. + +Yesterday's word was AVANTI. It sounds Shakespearian, and probably +means Avaunt and quit my sight. Today I have a whole phrase: +SONO DISPIACENTISSIMO. I do not know what it means, but it seems +to fit in everywhere and give satisfaction. Although as a rule +my words and phrases are good for one day and train only, I have +several that stay by me all the time, for some unknown reason, +and these come very handy when I get into a long conversation and need +things to fire up with in monotonous stretches. One of the best ones +is DOV' `E IL GATTO. It nearly always produces a pleasant surprise, +therefore I save it up for places where I want to express applause +or admiration. The fourth word has a French sound, and I think +the phrase means "that takes the cake." + +During my first week in the deep and dreamy stillness of this woodsy +and flowery place I was without news of the outside world, and was +well content without it. It has been four weeks since I had seen +a newspaper, and this lack seemed to give life a new charm and grace, +and to saturate it with a feeling verging upon actual delight. +Then came a change that was to be expected: the appetite for news +began to rise again, after this invigorating rest. I had to feed it, +but I was not willing to let it make me its helpless slave again; +I determined to put it on a diet, and a strict and limited one. +So I examined an Italian paper, with the idea of feeding it on that, +and on that exclusively. On that exclusively, and without help of +a dictionary. In this way I should surely be well protected against +overloading and indigestion. + +A glance at the telegraphic page filled me with encouragement. +There were no scare-heads. That was good--supremely good. But there +were headings--one-liners and two-liners--and that was good too; +for without these, one must do as one does with a German paper--pay our +precious time in finding out what an article is about, only to discover, +in many cases, that there is nothing in it of interest to you. +The headline is a valuable thing. + +Necessarily we are all fond of murders, scandals, swindles, +robberies, explosions, collisions, and all such things, when we +knew the people, and when they are neighbors and friends, but when +they are strangers we do not get any great pleasure out of them, +as a rule. Now the trouble with an American paper is that it has +no discrimination; it rakes the whole earth for blood and garbage, +and the result is that you are daily overfed and suffer a surfeit. +By habit you stow this muck every day, but you come by and by to +take no vital interest in it--indeed, you almost get tired of it. +As a rule, forty-nine-fiftieths of it concerns strangers only-- +people away off yonder, a thousand miles, two thousand miles, +ten thousand miles from where you are. Why, when you come to think +of it, who cares what becomes of those people? I would not give +the assassination of one personal friend for a whole massacre +of those others. And, to my mind, one relative or neighbor mixed +up in a scandal is more interesting than a whole Sodom and Gomorrah +of outlanders gone rotten. Give me the home product every time. + +Very well. I saw at a glance that the Florentine paper would +suit me: five out of six of its scandals and tragedies were local; +they were adventures of one's very neighbors, one might almost say +one's friends. In the matter of world news there was not too much, +but just about enough. I subscribed. I have had no occasion +to regret it. Every morning I get all the news I need for the day; +sometimes from the headlines, sometimes from the text. I have never +had to call for a dictionary yet. I read the paper with ease. +Often I do not quite understand, often some of the details escape me, +but no matter, I get the idea. I will cut out a passage or two, +then you see how limpid the language is: + + +Il ritorno dei Beati d'Italia + +Elargizione del Re all' Ospedale italiano + + +The first line means that the Italian sovereigns are coming back-- +they have been to England. The second line seems to mean that they +enlarged the King at the Italian hospital. With a banquet, I suppose. +An English banquet has that effect. Further: + + +Il ritorno dei Sovrani + +a Roma + + +ROMA, 24, ore 22,50.--I Sovrani e le Principessine Reali si attendono +a Roma domani alle ore 15,51. + + +Return of the sovereigns to Rome, you see. Date of the telegram, +Rome, November 24, ten minutes before twenty-three o'clock. The +telegram seems to say, "The Sovereigns and the Royal Children expect +themselves at Rome tomorrow at fifty-one minutes after fifteen o'clock." + +I do not know about Italian time, but I judge it begins at midnight +and runs through the twenty-four hours without breaking bulk. +In the following ad, the theaters open at half-past twenty. +If these are not matinees, 20.30 must mean 8.30 P.M., by my reckoning. + + +Spettacolli del di 25 + +TEATRO DELLA PERGOLA--(Ore 20,30)--Opera. BOH`EME. TEATRO +ALFIERI.--Compagnia drammatica Drago--(Ore 20,30)--LA LEGGE. +ALHAMBRA--(Ore 20,30)--Spettacolo variato. SALA EDISON-- +Grandiosoo spettacolo Cinematografico: QUO VADIS?--Inaugurazione della +Chiesa Russa--In coda al Direttissimo--Vedute di Firenze con +gran movimeno--America: Transporto tronchi giganteschi--I ladri +in casa del Diavolo--Scene comiche. CINEMATOGRAFO--Via Brunelleschi +n. 4.--Programma straordinario, DON CHISCIOTTE--Prezzi populari. + + +The whole of that is intelligible to me--and sane and rational, too-- +except the remark about the Inauguration of a Russian Chinese. +That one oversizes my hand. Give me five cards. + +This is a four-page paper; and as it is set in long primer leaded +and has a page of advertisements, there is no room for the crimes, +disasters, and general sweepings of the outside world--thanks be! +Today I find only a single importation of the off-color sort: + + +Una Principessa + +che fugge con un cocchiere + + +PARIGI, 24.--Il MATIN ha da Berlino che la principessa +Schovenbare-Waldenbure scomparve il 9 novembre. Sarebbe partita +col suo cocchiere. + +La Principassa ha 27 anni. + + +Twenty-seven years old, and scomparve--scampered--on the 9th November. +You see by the added detail that she departed with her coachman. +I hope Sarebbe has not made a mistake, but I am afraid the chances +are that she has. SONO DISPIACENTISSIMO. + +There are several fires: also a couple of accidents. This is +one of them: + + +Grave disgrazia sul Ponte Vecchio + + +Stammattina, circe le 7,30, mentre Giuseppe Sciatti, di anni 55, +di Casellina e Torri, passava dal Ponte Vecchio, stando seduto sopra +un barroccio carico di verdura, perse l' equilibrio e cadde al suolo, +rimanendo con la gamba destra sotto una ruota del veicolo. + +Lo Sciatti fu subito raccolto da alcuni cittadini, che, per mezzo +della pubblica vettura n. 365, lo transporto a San Giovanni di Dio. + +Ivi il medico di guardia gli riscontro la frattura della gamba +destra e alcune lievi escoriazioni giudicandolo guaribile in 50 +giorni salvo complicazioni. + + +What it seems to say is this: "Serious Disgrace on the Old +Old Bridge. This morning about 7.30, Mr. Joseph Sciatti, aged 55, +of Casellina and Torri, while standing up in a sitting posture +on top of a carico barrow of vedure (foliage? hay? vegetables?), +lost his equilibrium and fell on himself, arriving with his left +leg under one of the wheels of the vehicle. + +"Said Sciatti was suddenly harvested (gathered in?) by several citizens, +who by means of public cab No. 365 transported to St. John of God." + +Paragraph No. 3 is a little obscure, but I think it says that +the medico set the broken left leg--right enough, since there +was nothing the matter with the other one--and that several +are encouraged to hope that fifty days well fetch him around +in quite giudicandolo-guaribile way, if no complications intervene. + +I am sure I hope so myself. + +There is a great and peculiar charm about reading news-scraps in a +language which you are not acquainted with--the charm that always goes +with the mysterious and the uncertain. You can never be absolutely +sure of the meaning of anything you read in such circumstances; +you are chasing an alert and gamy riddle all the time, and the +baffling turns and dodges of the prey make the life of the hunt. +A dictionary would spoil it. Sometimes a single word of doubtful +purport will cast a veil of dreamy and golden uncertainty over a +whole paragraph of cold and practical certainties, and leave steeped +in a haunting and adorable mystery an incident which had been vulgar +and commonplace but for that benefaction. Would you be wise to draw +a dictionary on that gracious word? would you be properly grateful? + +After a couple of days' rest I now come back to my subject and seek +a case in point. I find it without trouble, in the morning paper; +a cablegram from Chicago and Indiana by way of Paris. All the words +save one are guessable by a person ignorant of Italian: + + +Revolverate in teatro + + +PARIGI, 27.--La PATRIE ha da Chicago: + +Il guardiano del teatro dell'opera di Walace (Indiana), avendo voluto +espellare uno spettatore che continuava a fumare malgrado il diviety, +questo spalleggiato dai suoi amici tir`o diversi colpi di rivoltella. +Il guardiano ripose. Nacque una scarica generale. Grande panico +tra gli spettatori. Nessun ferito. + + +TRANSLATION.--"Revolveration in Theater. PARIS, 27TH. LA PATRIE +has from Chicago: The cop of the theater of the opera of Wallace, +Indiana, had willed to expel a spectator which continued to smoke +in spite of the prohibition, who, spalleggiato by his friends, +tir'o (Fr. TIR'E, Anglice PULLED) manifold revolver-shots; +great panic among the spectators. Nobody hurt." + +It is bettable that that harmless cataclysm in the theater of the opera +of Wallace, Indiana, excited not a person in Europe but me, and so +came near to not being worth cabling to Florence by way of France. +But it does excite me. It excites me because I cannot make out, +for sure, what it was that moved the spectator to resist the officer. +I was gliding along smoothly and without obstruction or accident, +until I came to that word "spalleggiato," then the bottom fell out. +You notice what a rich gloom, what a somber and pervading mystery, +that word sheds all over the whole Wallachian tragedy. That is the charm +of the thing, that is the delight of it. This is where you begin, +this is where you revel. You can guess and guess, and have all +the fun you like; you need not be afraid there will be an end to it; +none is possible, for no amount of guessing will ever furnish you +a meaning for that word that you can be sure is the right one. +All the other words give you hints, by their form, their sound, +or their spelling--this one doesn't, this one throws out no hints, +this one keeps its secret. If there is even the slightest slight +shadow of a hint anywhere, it lies in the very meagerly suggestive +fact that "spalleggiato" carries our word "egg" in its stomach. +Well, make the most out of it, and then where are you at? +You conjecture that the spectator which was smoking in spite +of the prohibition and become reprohibited by the guardians, +was "egged on" by his friends, and that was owing to that evil +influence that he initiated the revolveration in theater that has +galloped under the sea and come crashing through the European +press without exciting anybody but me. But are you sure, +are you dead sure, that that was the way of it? No. Then the +uncertainty remains, the mystery abides, and with it the charm. +Guess again. + +If I had a phrase-book of a really satisfactory sort I would +study it, and not give all my free time to undictionarial readings, +but there is no such work on the market. The existing phrase-books +are inadequate. They are well enough as far as they go, but when +you fall down and skin your leg they don't tell you what to say. + + +*** + + + +ITALIAN WITH GRAMMAR + + + +I found that a person of large intelligence could read this beautiful +language with considerable facility without a dictionary, but I presently +found that to such a parson a grammar could be of use at times. +It is because, if he does not know the WERE'S and the WAS'S and the +MAYBE'S and the HAS-BEENS'S apart, confusions and uncertainties +can arise. He can get the idea that a thing is going to happen next +week when the truth is that it has already happened week before last. +Even more previously, sometimes. Examination and inquiry showed +me that the adjectives and such things were frank and fair-minded +and straightforward, and did not shuffle; it was the Verb that mixed +the hands, it was the Verb that lacked stability, it was the Verb that +had no permanent opinion about anything, it was the Verb that was always +dodging the issue and putting out the light and making all the trouble. + +Further examination, further inquiry, further reflection, +confirmed this judgment, and established beyond peradventure the +fact that the Verb was the storm-center. This discovery made plain +the right and wise course to pursue in order to acquire certainty +and exactness in understanding the statements which the newspaper +was daily endeavoring to convey to me: I must catch a Verb and +tame it. I must find out its ways, I must spot its eccentricities, +I must penetrate its disguises, I must intelligently foresee and +forecast at least the commoner of the dodges it was likely to try +upon a stranger in given circumstances, I must get in on its main +shifts and head them off, I must learn its game and play the limit. + +I had noticed, in other foreign languages, that verbs are bred +in families, and that the members of each family have certain features +or resemblances that are common to that family and distinguish it +from the other families--the other kin, the cousins and what not. +I had noticed that this family-mark is not usually the nose or the hair, +so to speak, but the tail--the Termination--and that these tails +are quite definitely differentiated; insomuch that an expert can +tell a Pluperfect from a Subjunctive by its tail as easily and as +certainly as a cowboy can tell a cow from a horse by the like process, +the result of observation and culture. I should explain that I +am speaking of legitimate verbs, those verbs which in the slang +of the grammar are called Regular. There are other--I am not meaning +to conceal this; others called Irregulars, born out of wedlock, +of unknown and uninteresting parentage, and naturally destitute +of family resemblances, as regards to all features, tails included. +But of these pathetic outcasts I have nothing to say. I do not +approve of them, I do not encourage them; I am prudishly delicate +and sensitive, and I do not allow them to be used in my presence. + +But, as I have said, I decided to catch one of the others and break +it into harness. One is enough. Once familiar with its assortment +of tails, you are immune; after that, no regular verb can conceal +its specialty from you and make you think it is working the past +or the future or the conditional or the unconditional when it is +engaged in some other line of business--its tail will give it away. +I found out all these things by myself, without a teacher. + +I selected the verb AMARE, TO LOVE. Not for any personal reason, +for I am indifferent about verbs; I care no more for one verb than +for another, and have little or no respect for any of them; but in +foreign languages you always begin with that one. Why, I don't know. +It is merely habit, I suppose; the first teacher chose it, +Adam was satisfied, and there hasn't been a successor since with +originality enough to start a fresh one. For they ARE a pretty +limited lot, you will admit that? Originality is not in their line; +they can't think up anything new, anything to freshen up the old +moss-grown dullness of the language lesson and put life and "go" +into it, and charm and grace and picturesqueness. + +I knew I must look after those details myself; therefore I thought +them out and wrote them down, and set for the FACCHINO and explained +them to him, and said he must arrange a proper plant, and get together +a good stock company among the CONTADINI, and design the costumes, +and distribute the parts; and drill the troupe, and be ready in three +days to begin on this Verb in a shipshape and workman-like manner. +I told him to put each grand division of it under a foreman, +and each subdivision under a subordinate of the rank of sergeant +or corporal or something like that, and to have a different uniform +for each squad, so that I could tell a Pluperfect from a Compound +Future without looking at the book; the whole battery to be under +his own special and particular command, with the rank of Brigadier, +and I to pay the freight. + +I then inquired into the character and possibilities of the selected verb, +and was much disturbed to find that it was over my size, it being +chambered for fifty-seven rounds--fifty-seven ways of saying I LOVE +without reloading; and yet none of them likely to convince a girl +that was laying for a title, or a title that was laying for rocks. + +It seemed to me that with my inexperience it would be foolish to go +into action with this mitrailleuse, so I ordered it to the rear +and told the facchino to provide something a little more primitive +to start with, something less elaborate, some gentle old-fashioned +flint-lock, smooth-bore, double-barreled thing, calculated to cripple +at two hundred yards and kill at forty--an arrangement suitable for a +beginner who could be satisfied with moderate results on the offstart +and did not wish to take the whole territory in the first campaign. + +But in vain. He was not able to mend the matter, all the verbs being +of the same build, all Gatlings, all of the same caliber and delivery, +fifty-seven to the volley, and fatal at a mile and a half. +But he said the auxiliary verb AVERE, TO HAVE, was a tidy thing, +and easy to handle in a seaway, and less likely to miss stays in +going about than some of the others; so, upon his recommendation I +chose that one, and told him to take it along and scrape its bottom +and break out its spinnaker and get it ready for business. + +I will explain that a facchino is a general-utility domestic. +Mine was a horse-doctor in his better days, and a very good one. + + +At the end of three days the facchino-doctor-brigadier was ready. +I was also ready, with a stenographer. We were in a room called +the Rope-Walk. This is a formidably long room, as is indicated +by its facetious name, and is a good place for reviews. At 9:30 +the F.-D.-B. took his place near me and gave the word of command; +the drums began to rumble and thunder, the head of the forces appeared +at an upper door, and the "march-past" was on. Down they filed, +a blaze of variegated color, each squad gaudy in a uniform of its own +and bearing a banner inscribed with its verbal rank and quality: +first the Present Tense in Mediterranean blue and old gold, then the +Past Definite in scarlet and black, then the Imperfect in green +and yellow, then the Indicative Future in the stars and stripes, +then the Old Red Sandstone Subjunctive in purple and silver-- +and so on and so on, fifty-seven privates and twenty commissioned +and non-commissioned officers; certainly one of the most fiery and +dazzling and eloquent sights I have ever beheld. I could not keep back +the tears. Presently: + +"Halt!" commanded the Brigadier. + +"Front--face!" + +"Right dress!" + +"Stand at ease!" + +"One--two--three. In unison--RECITE!" + +It was fine. In one noble volume of sound of all the fifty-seven +Haves in the Italian language burst forth in an exalting +and splendid confusion. Then came commands: + +"About--face! Eyes--front! Helm alee--hard aport! Forward--march!" +and the drums let go again. + +When the last Termination had disappeared, the commander said +the instruction drill would now begin, and asked for suggestions. +I said: + +"They say I HAVE, THOU HAST, HE HAS, and so on, but they don't say WHAT. +It will be better, and more definite, if they have something +to have; just an object, you know, a something--anything will do; +anything that will give the listener a sort of personal as well +as grammatical interest in their joys and complaints, you see." + +He said: + +"It is a good point. Would a dog do?" + +I said I did not know, but we could try a dog and see. So he sent +out an aide-de-camp to give the order to add the dog. + + +The six privates of the Present Tense now filed in, in charge +of Sergeant AVERE (TO HAVE), and displaying their banner. +They formed in line of battle, and recited, one at a time, thus: + +"IO HO UN CANE, I have a dog." + +"TU HAI UN CANE, thou hast a dog." + +"EGLI HA UN CANE, he has a dog." + +"NOI ABBIAMO UN CANE, we have a dog." + +"VOI AVETE UN CANE, you have a dog." + +"EGLINO HANNO UN CANE, they have a dog." + +No comment followed. They returned to camp, and I reflected a while. +The commander said: + +"I fear you are disappointed." + +"Yes," I said; "they are too monotonous, too singsong, to dead-and-alive; +they have no expression, no elocution. It isn't natural; it could +never happen in real life. A person who had just acquired a dog +is either blame' glad or blame' sorry. He is not on the fence. +I never saw a case. What the nation do you suppose is the matter +with these people?" + +He thought maybe the trouble was with the dog. He said: + +"These are CONTADINI, you know, and they have a prejudice against dogs-- +that is, against marimane. Marimana dogs stand guard over people's +vines and olives, you know, and are very savage, and thereby a grief +and an inconvenience to persons who want other people's things +at night. In my judgment they have taken this dog for a marimana, +and have soured on him." + +I saw that the dog was a mistake, and not functionable: +we must try something else; something, if possible, that could +evoke sentiment, interest, feeling. + +"What is cat, in Italian?" I asked. + +"Gatto." + +"Is it a gentleman cat, or a lady?" + +"Gentleman cat." + +"How are these people as regards that animal?" + +"We-ll, they--they--" + +"You hesitate: that is enough. How are they about chickens?" + +He tilted his eyes toward heaven in mute ecstasy. I understood. + +"What is chicken, in Italian?" I asked. + +"Pollo, PODERE." (Podere is Italian for master. It is a title +of courtesy, and conveys reverence and admiration.) "Pollo is one +chicken by itself; when there are enough present to constitute +a plural, it is POLLI." + +"Very well, polli will do. Which squad is detailed for duty next?" + +"The Past Definite." + +"Send out and order it to the front--with chickens. And let them +understand that we don't want any more of this cold indifference." + +He gave the order to an aide, adding, with a haunting tenderness +in his tone and a watering mouth in his aspect: + +"Convey to them the conception that these are unprotected chickens." +He turned to me, saluting with his hand to his temple, and explained, +"It will inflame their interest in the poultry, sire." + +A few minutes elapsed. Then the squad marched in and formed up, +their faces glowing with enthusiasm, and the file-leader shouted: + +"EBBI POLLI, I had chickens!" + +"Good!" I said. "Go on, the next." + +"AVEST POLLI, thou hadst chickens!" + +"Fine! Next!" + +"EBBE POLLI, he had chickens!" + +"Moltimoltissimo! Go on, the next!" + +"AVEMMO POLLI, we had chickens!" + +"Basta-basta aspettatto avanti--last man--CHARGE!" + +"EBBERO POLLI, they had chickens!" + +Then they formed in echelon, by columns of fours, refused the left, +and retired in great style on the double-quick. I was enchanted, +and said: + +"Now, doctor, that is something LIKE! Chickens are the ticket, +there is no doubt about it. What is the next squad?" + +"The Imperfect." + +"How does it go?" + +"IO AVENA, I had, TU AVEVI, thou hadst, EGLI AVENA, he had, +NOI AV--" + +"Wait--we've just HAD the hads. What are you giving me?" + +"But this is another breed." + +"What do we want of another breed? Isn't one breed enough? +HAD is HAD, and your tricking it out in a fresh way of spelling +isn't going to make it any hadder than it was before; now you know +that yourself." + +"But there is a distinction--they are not just the same Hads." + +"How do you make it out?" + +"Well, you use that first Had when you are referring to something +that happened at a named and sharp and perfectly definite moment; +you use the other when the thing happened at a vaguely defined time +and in a more prolonged and indefinitely continuous way." + +"Why, doctor, it is pure nonsense; you know it yourself. Look here: +If I have had a had, or have wanted to have had a had, or was in a +position right then and there to have had a had that hadn't had any chance +to go out hadding on account of this foolish discrimination which lets +one Had go hadding in any kind of indefinite grammatical weather but +restricts the other one to definite and datable meteoric convulsions, +and keeps it pining around and watching the barometer all the time, +and liable to get sick through confinement and lack of exercise, +and all that sort of thing, why--why, the inhumanity of it is enough, +let alone the wanton superfluity and uselessness of any such a loafing +consumptive hospital-bird of a Had taking up room and cumbering +the place for nothing. These finical refinements revolt me; +it is not right, it is not honorable; it is constructive nepotism +to keep in office a Had that is so delicate it can't come out when +the wind's in the nor'west--I won't have this dude on the payroll. +Cancel his exequator; and look here--" + +"But you miss the point. It is like this. You see--" + +"Never mind explaining, I don't care anything about it. Six Hads +is enough for me; anybody that needs twelve, let him subscribe; +I don't want any stock in a Had Trust. Knock out the Prolonged +and Indefinitely Continuous; four-fifths of it is water, anyway." + +"But I beg you, podere! It is often quite indispensable in cases where--" + +"Pipe the next squad to the assault!" + +But it was not to be; for at that moment the dull boom of the noon gun +floated up out of far-off Florence, followed by the usual softened +jangle of church-bells, Florentine and suburban, that bursts out in +murmurous response; by labor-union law the COLAZIONE [1] must stop; +stop promptly, stop instantly, stop definitely, like the chosen +and best of the breed of Hads. + +- - - + +1. Colazione is Italian for a collection, a meeting, a seance, +a sitting.--M.T. + + +*** + + + +A BURLESQUE BIOGRAPHY + + + +Two or three persons having at different times intimated that if I +would write an autobiography they would read it when they got leisure, +I yield at last to this frenzied public demand and herewith tender +my history. + +Ours is a noble house, and stretches a long way back into antiquity. +The earliest ancestor the Twains have any record of was a friend of +the family by the name of Higgins. This was in the eleventh century, +when our people were living in Aberdeen, county of Cork, England. +Why it is that our long line has ever since borne the maternal +name (except when one of them now and then took a playful +refuge in an alias to avert foolishness), instead of Higgins, +is a mystery which none of us has ever felt much desire to stir. +It is a kind of vague, pretty romance, and we leave it alone. +All the old families do that way. + +Arthour Twain was a man of considerable note--a solicitor on the +highway in William Rufus's time. At about the age of thirty he went +to one of those fine old English places of resort called Newgate, +to see about something, and never returned again. While there he +died suddenly. + +Augustus Twain seems to have made something of a stir about the +year 1160. He was as full of fun as he could be, and used to take his old +saber and sharpen it up, and get in a convenient place on a dark night, +and stick it through people as they went by, to see them jump. +He was a born humorist. But he got to going too far with it; +and the first time he was found stripping one of these parties, +the authorities removed one end of him, and put it up on a nice high +place on Temple Bar, where it could contemplate the people and have +a good time. He never liked any situation so much or stuck to it so long. + +Then for the next two hundred years the family tree shows +a succession of soldiers--noble, high-spirited fellows, +who always went into battle singing, right behind the army, +and always went out a-whooping, right ahead of it. + +This is a scathing rebuke to old dead Froissart's poor witticism +that our family tree never had but one limb to it, and that that +one stuck out at right angles, and bore fruit winter and summer. + +Early in the fifteenth century we have Beau Twain, called "the Scholar." +He wrote a beautiful, beautiful hand. And he could imitate anybody's +hand so closely that it was enough to make a person laugh his head +off to see it. He had infinite sport with his talent. But by and +by he took a contract to break stone for a road, and the roughness +of the work spoiled his hand. Still, he enjoyed life all the time +he was in the stone business, which, with inconsiderable intervals, +was some forty-two years. In fact, he died in harness. During all +those long years he gave such satisfaction that he never was through +with one contract a week till the government gave him another. He was +a perfect pet. And he was always a favorite with his fellow-artists, +and was a conspicuous member of their benevolent secret society, +called the Chain Gang. He always wore his hair short, had a +preference for striped clothes, and died lamented by the government. +He was a sore loss to his country. For he was so regular. + +Some years later we have the illustrious John Morgan Twain. +He came over to this country with Columbus in 1492 as a passenger. +He appears to have been of a crusty, uncomfortable disposition. +He complained of the food all the way over, and was always threatening +to go ashore unless there was a change. He wanted fresh shad. +Hardly a day passed over his head that he did not go idling about +the ship with his nose in the air, sneering about the commander, +and saying he did not believe Columbus knew where he was going +to or had ever been there before. The memorable cry of "Land ho!" +thrilled every heart in the ship but his. He gazed awhile through a +piece of smoked glass at the penciled line lying on the distant water, +and then said: "Land be hanged--it's a raft!" + +When this questionable passenger came on board the ship, he brought +nothing with him but an old newspaper containing a handkerchief +marked "B. G.," one cotton sock marked "L. W. C.," one woolen one +marked "D. F.," and a night-shirt marked "O. M. R." And yet during +the voyage he worried more about his "trunk," and gave himself more +airs about it, than all the rest of the passengers put together. +If the ship was "down by the head," and would not steer, he would +go and move his "trunk" further aft, and then watch the effect. +If the ship was "by the stern," he would suggest to Columbus to detail +some men to "shift that baggage." In storms he had to be gagged, +because his wailings about his "trunk" made it impossible for the +men to hear the orders. The man does not appear to have been +openly charged with any gravely unbecoming thing, but it is noted +in the ship's log as a "curious circumstance" that albeit he brought +his baggage on board the ship in a newspaper, he took it ashore in +four trunks, a queensware crate, and a couple of champagne baskets. +But when he came back insinuating, in an insolent, swaggering way, +that some of this things were missing, and was going to search +the other passengers' baggage, it was too much, and they threw +him overboard. They watched long and wonderingly for him to +come up, but not even a bubble rose on the quietly ebbing tide. +But while every one was most absorbed in gazing over the side, +and the interest was momentarily increasing, it was observed with +consternation that the vessel was adrift and the anchor-cable hanging +limp from the bow. Then in the ship's dimmed and ancient log we +find this quaint note: + +"In time it was discouvered yt ye troblesome passenger hadde gone +downe and got ye anchor, and toke ye same and solde it to ye dam +sauvages from ye interior, saying yt he hadde founde it, ye sonne +of a ghun!" + +Yet this ancestor had good and noble instincts, and it is with +pride that we call to mind the fact that he was the first white +person who ever interested himself in the work of elevating +and civilizing our Indians. He built a commodious jail and put +up a gallows, and to his dying day he claimed with satisfaction +that he had had a more restraining and elevating influence on +the Indians than any other reformer that ever labored among them. +At this point the chronicle becomes less frank and chatty, +and closes abruptly by saying that the old voyager went to see +his gallows perform on the first white man ever hanged in America, +and while there received injuries which terminated in his death. + +The great-grandson of the "Reformer" flourished in sixteen hundred +and something, and was known in our annals as "the old Admiral," +though in history he had other titles. He was long in command of +fleets of swift vessels, well armed and manned, and did great service +in hurrying up merchantmen. Vessels which he followed and kept +his eagle eye on, always made good fair time across the ocean. +But if a ship still loitered in spite of all he could do, +his indignation would grow till he could contain himself no longer-- +and then he would take that ship home where he lived and keep it +there carefully, expecting the owners to come for it, but they never did. +And he would try to get the idleness and sloth out of the sailors +of that ship by compelling them to take invigorating exercise and +a bath. He called it "walking a plank." All the pupils liked it. +At any rate, they never found any fault with it after trying it. +When the owners were late coming for their ships, the Admiral always +burned them, so that the insurance money should not be lost. +At last this fine old tar was cut down in the fullness of his years +and honors. And to her dying day, his poor heart-broken widow believed +that if he had been cut down fifteen minutes sooner he might have +been resuscitated. + +Charles Henry Twain lived during the latter part of the seventeenth +century, and was a zealous and distinguished missionary. +He converted sixteen thousand South Sea islanders, and taught them +that a dog-tooth necklace and a pair of spectacles was not enough +clothing to come to divine service in. His poor flock loved +him very, very dearly; and when his funeral was over, they got up +in a body (and came out of the restaurant) with tears in their eyes, +and saying, one to another, that he was a good tender missionary, +and they wished they had some more of him. + +Pah-go-to-wah-wah-pukketekeewis (Mighty-Hunter-with-a-Hog-Eye-Twain) +adorned the middle of the eighteenth century, and aided General +Braddock with all his heart to resist the oppressor Washington. +It was this ancestor who fired seventeen times at our Washington +from behind a tree. So far the beautiful romantic narrative +in the moral story-books is correct; but when that narrative goes +on to say that at the seventeenth round the awe-stricken savage +said solemnly that that man was being reserved by the Great Spirit +for some mighty mission, and he dared not lift his sacrilegious rifle +against him again, the narrative seriously impairs the integrity +of history. What he did say was: + +"It ain't no (hic) no use. 'At man's so drunk he can't stan' +still long enough for a man to hit him. I (hic) I can't 'ford +to fool away any more am'nition on him." + +That was why he stopped at the seventeenth round, and it was a good, +plain, matter-of-fact reason, too, and one that easily commends itself +to us by the eloquent, persuasive flavor of probability there is about it. + +I also enjoyed the story-book narrative, but I felt a marring misgiving +that every Indian at Braddock's Defeat who fired at a soldier +a couple of times (two easily grows to seventeen in a century), +and missed him, jumped to the conclusion that the Great Spirit +was reserving that soldier for some grand mission; and so I somehow +feared that the only reason why Washington's case is remembered +and the others forgotten is, that in his the prophecy came true, +and in that of the others it didn't. There are not books enough +on earth to contain the record of the prophecies Indians and other +unauthorized parties have made; but one may carry in his overcoat +pockets the record of all the prophecies that have been fulfilled. + +I will remark here, in passing, that certain ancestors of mine are +so thoroughly well-known in history by their aliases, that I have +not felt it to be worth while to dwell upon them, or even mention +them in the order of their birth. Among these may be mentioned +Richard Brinsley Twain, alias Guy Fawkes; John Wentworth Twain, +alias Sixteen-String Jack; William Hogarth Twain, alias Jack Sheppard; +Ananias Twain, alias Baron Munchausen; John George Twain, +alias Captain Kydd; and then there are George Francis Twain, +Tom Pepper, Nebuchadnezzar, and Baalam's Ass--they all belong +to our family, but to a branch of it somewhat distinctly removed +from the honorable direct line--in fact, a collateral branch, +whose members chiefly differ from the ancient stock in that, in order +to acquire the notoriety we have always yearned and hungered for, +they have got into a low way of going to jail instead of getting hanged. + +It is not well, when writing an autobiography, to follow your ancestry +down too close to your own time--it is safest to speak only vaguely +of your great-grandfather, and then skip from there to yourself, +which I now do. + +I was born without teeth--and there Richard III. had the advantage +of me; but I was born without a humpback, likewise, and there I +had the advantage of him. My parents were neither very poor nor +conspicuously honest. + +But now a thought occurs to me. My own history would really seem +so tame contrasted with that of my ancestors, that it is simply wisdom +to leave it unwritten until I am hanged. If some other biographies I +have read had stopped with the ancestry until a like event occurred, +it would have been a felicitous thing for the reading public. +How does it strike you? + + +*** + + + +HOW TO TELL A STORY + +The Humorous Story an American Development.--Its Difference + +from Comic and Witty Stories + + + +I do not claim that I can tell a story as it ought to be told. +I only claim to know how a story ought to be told, for I have been +almost daily in the company of the most expert story-tellers for +many years. + +There are several kinds of stories, but only one difficult kind-- +the humorous. I will talk mainly about that one. The humorous story +is American, the comic story is English, the witty story is French. +The humorous story depends for its effect upon the MANNER of the telling; +the comic story and the witty story upon the MATTER. + +The humorous story may be spun out to great length, and may wander +around as much as it pleases, and arrive nowhere in particular; +but the comic and witty stories must be brief and end with a point. +The humorous story bubbles gently along, the others burst. + +The humorous story is strictly a work of art--high and delicate art-- +and only an artist can tell it; but no art is necessary in telling +the comic and the witty story; anybody can do it. The art of telling +a humorous story--understand, I mean by word of mouth, not print-- +was created in America, and has remained at home. + +The humorous story is told gravely; the teller does his best +to conceal the fact that he even dimly suspects that there is +anything funny about it; but the teller of the comic story tells you +beforehand that it is one of the funniest things he has ever heard, +then tells it with eager delight, and is the first person to laugh +when he gets through. And sometimes, if he has had good success, +he is so glad and happy that he will repeat the "nub" of it +and glance around from face to face, collecting applause, +and then repeat it again. It is a pathetic thing to see. + +Very often, of course, the rambling and disjointed humorous story +finishes with a nub, point, snapper, or whatever you like to call it. +Then the listener must be alert, for in many cases the teller will +divert attention from that nub by dropping it in a carefully casual +and indifferent way, with the pretense that he does not know it +is a nub. + +Artemus Ward used that trick a good deal; then when the belated audience +presently caught the joke he would look up with innocent surprise, +as if wondering what they had found to laugh at. Dan Setchell +used it before him, Nye and Riley and others use it today. + +But the teller of the comic story does not slur the nub; +he shouts it at you--every time. And when he prints it, +in England, France, Germany, and Italy, he italicizes it, +puts some whopping exclamation-points after it, and sometimes +explains it in a parenthesis. All of which is very depressing, +and makes one want to renounce joking and lead a better life. + +Let me set down an instance of the comic method, using an anecdote +which has been popular all over the world for twelve or fifteen +hundred years. The teller tells it in this way: + + +THE WOUNDED SOLDIER + + +In the course of a certain battle a soldier whose leg had been shot off +appealed to another soldier who was hurrying by to carry him to the rear, +informing him at the same time of the loss which he had sustained; +whereupon the generous son of Mars, shouldering the unfortunate, +proceeded to carry out his desire. The bullets and cannon-balls +were flying in all directions, and presently one of the latter +took the wounded man's head off--without, however, his deliverer +being aware of it. In no long time he was hailed by an officer, +who said: + +"Where are you going with that carcass?" + +"To the rear, sir--he's lost his leg!" + +"His leg, forsooth?" responded the astonished officer; "you mean +his head, you booby." + +Whereupon the soldier dispossessed himself of his burden, and stood +looking down upon it in great perplexity. At length he said: + +"It is true, sir, just as you have said." Then after a pause he added, +"BUT HE TOLD ME IT WAS HIS LEG!!!!!" + + +Here the narrator bursts into explosion after explosion of +thunderous horse-laughter, repeating that nub from time to time +through his gasping and shriekings and suffocatings. + +It takes only a minute and a half to tell that in its comic-story form; +and isn't worth the telling, after all. Put into the humorous-story +form it takes ten minutes, and is about the funniest thing I have +ever listened to--as James Whitcomb Riley tells it. + +He tells it in the character of a dull-witted old farmer who has +just heard it for the first time, thinks it is unspeakably funny, +and is trying to repeat it to a neighbor. But he can't remember it; +so he gets all mixed up and wanders helplessly round and round, +putting in tedious details that don't belong in the tale and only +retard it; taking them out conscientiously and putting in others +that are just as useless; making minor mistakes now and then +and stopping to correct them and explain how he came to make them; +remembering things which he forgot to put in in their proper place +and going back to put them in there; stopping his narrative a good +while in order to try to recall the name of the soldier that was hurt, +and finally remembering that the soldier's name was not mentioned, +and remarking placidly that the name is of no real importance, anyway-- +better, of course, if one knew it, but not essential, after all-- +and so on, and so on, and so on. + +The teller is innocent and happy and pleased with himself, +and has to stop every little while to hold himself in and keep +from laughing outright; and does hold in, but his body quakes +in a jelly-like way with interior chuckles; and at the end of the +ten minutes the audience have laughed until they are exhausted, +and the tears are running down their faces. + +The simplicity and innocence and sincerity and unconsciousness +of the old farmer are perfectly simulated, and the result +is a performance which is thoroughly charming and delicious. +This is art--and fine and beautiful, and only a master can compass it; +but a machine could tell the other story. + +To string incongruities and absurdities together in a wandering +and sometimes purposeless way, and seem innocently unaware that they +are absurdities, is the basis of the American art, if my position +is correct. Another feature is the slurring of the point. A third +is the dropping of a studied remark apparently without knowing it, +as if one where thinking aloud. The fourth and last is the pause. + +Artemus Ward dealt in numbers three and four a good deal. He would +begin to tell with great animation something which he seemed to +think was wonderful; then lose confidence, and after an apparently +absent-minded pause add an incongruous remark in a soliloquizing way; +and that was the remark intended to explode the mine--and it did. + +For instance, he would say eagerly, excitedly, "I once knew a man +in New Zealand who hadn't a tooth in his head"--here his animation +would die out; a silent, reflective pause would follow, then he +would say dreamily, and as if to himself, "and yet that man could +beat a drum better than any man I ever saw." + +The pause is an exceedingly important feature in any kind of story, +and a frequently recurring feature, too. It is a dainty thing, +and delicate, and also uncertain and treacherous; for it must +be exactly the right length--no more and no less--or it fails +of its purpose and makes trouble. If the pause is too short the +impressive point is passed, and the audience have had time to divine +that a surprise is intended--and then you can't surprise them, +of course. + +On the platform I used to tell a negro ghost story that had a pause +in front of the snapper on the end, and that pause was the most important +thing in the whole story. If I got it the right length precisely, +I could spring the finishing ejaculation with effect enough to make +some impressible girl deliver a startled little yelp and jump out +of her seat--and that was what I was after. This story was called +"The Golden Arm," and was told in this fashion. You can practice +with it yourself--and mind you look out for the pause and get it right. + + +THE GOLDEN ARM + + +Once 'pon a time dey wuz a momsus mean man, en he live 'way out in de +prairie all 'lone by hisself, 'cep'n he had a wife. En bimeby she died, +en he tuck en toted her way out dah in de prairie en buried her. +Well, she had a golden arm--all solid gold, fum de shoulder down. +He wuz pow'ful mean--pow'ful; en dat night he couldn't sleep, +caze he want dat golden arm so bad. + +When it come midnight he couldn't stan' it no mo'; so he git up, +he did, en tuck his lantern en shoved out thoo de storm en dug her +up en got de golden arm; en he bent his head down 'gin de 'win, en +plowed en plowed en plowed thoo de snow. Den all on a sudden he +stop (make a considerable pause here, and look startled, and take +a listening attitude) en say: "My LAN', what's dat?" + +En he listen--en listen--en de win' say (set your teeth together +and imitate the wailing and wheezing singsong of the wind), +"Bzzz-z-zzz"--en den, way back yonder whah de grave is, he hear +a VOICE!--he hear a voice all mix' up in de win'--can't hardly +tell 'em 'part--"Bzzz--zzz--W-h-o--g-o-t--m-y--g-o-l-d-e-n ARM?" +(You must begin to shiver violently now.) + +En he begin to shiver en shake, en say, "Oh, my! OH, my lan'!" en de win' +blow de lantern out, en de snow en sleet blow in his face en mos' +choke him, en he start a-plowin' knee-deep toward home mos' dead, +he so sk'yerd--en pooty soon he hear de voice agin, en (pause) it 'us +comin AFTER him! "Bzzz--zzz--zzz W-h-o--g-o-t--m-y--g-o-l-d-e-n--ARM?" + +When he git to de pasture he hear it agin--closter now, +en A-COMIN'!--a-comin' back dah in de dark en de storm--(repeat +the wind and the voice). When he git to de house he rush upstairs +en jump in de bed en kiver up, head and years, en lay da shiverin' +en shakin'--en den way out dah he hear it AGIN!--en a-COMIN'! En +bimeby he hear (pause--awed, listening attitude)--pat--pat--pat HIT'S +A-COMIN' UPSTAIRS! Den he hear de latch, en he KNOW it's in de room! + +Den pooty soon he know it's a-STANNIN' BY DE BED! (Pause.) Den-- +he know it's a-BENDIN' DOWN OVER HIM--en he cain't skasely git +his breath! Den--den--he seem to feel someth'n' C-O-L-D, right down +'most agin his head! (Pause.) + +Den de voice say, RIGHT AT HIS YEAR--"W-h-o--g-o-t--m-y g-o-l-d-e-n ARM?" +(You must wail it out very plaintively and accusingly; then you stare +steadily and impressively into the face of the farthest-gone auditor-- +a girl, preferably--and let that awe-inspiring pause begin to build +itself in the deep hush. When it has reached exactly the right length, +jump suddenly at that girl and yell, "YOU'VE got it!") + +If you've got the PAUSE right, she'll fetch a dear little yelp and +spring right out of her shoes. But you MUST get the pause right; +and you will find it the most troublesome and aggravating and +uncertain thing you ever undertook. + + +*** + + + +GENERAL WASHINGTON'S NEGRO BODY-SERVANT + + +A Biographical Sketch + + + +The stirring part of this celebrated colored man's life properly began +with his death--that is to say, the notable features of his biography +began with the first time he died. He had been little heard of up +to that time, but since then we have never ceased to hear of him; +we have never ceased to hear of him at stated, unfailing intervals. +His was a most remarkable career, and I have thought that its history +would make a valuable addition to our biographical literature. +Therefore, I have carefully collated the materials for such a work, +from authentic sources, and here present them to the public. I have +rigidly excluded from these pages everything of a doubtful character, +with the object in view of introducing my work into the schools +for the instruction of the youth of my country. + +The name of the famous body-servant of General Washington was George. +After serving his illustrious master faithfully for half a century, +and enjoying throughout his long term his high regard and confidence, +it became his sorrowful duty at last to lay that beloved master +to rest in his peaceful grave by the Potomac. Ten years afterward-- +in 1809--full of years and honors, he died himself, mourned by all +who knew him. The Boston GAZETTE of that date thus refers to +the event: + + +George, the favorite body-servant of the lamented Washington, +died in Richmond, Va., last Tuesday, at the ripe age of 95 years. +His intellect was unimpaired, and his memory tenacious, up to +within a few minutes of his decease. He was present at the second +installation of Washington as President, and also at his funeral, +and distinctly remembered all the prominent incidents connected with +those noted events. + + +From this period we hear no more of the favorite body-servant of +General Washington until May, 1825, at which time he died again. +A Philadelphia paper thus speaks of the sad occurrence: + + +At Macon, Ga., last week, a colored man named George, who was the +favorite body-servant of General Washington, died at the advanced +age of 95 years. Up to within a few hours of his dissolution he +was in full possession of all his faculties, and could distinctly +recollect the second installation of Washington, his death +and burial, the surrender of Cornwallis, the battle of Trenton, +the griefs and hardships of Valley Forge, etc. Deceased was +followed to the grave by the entire population of Macon. + + +On the Fourth of July, 1830, and also of 1834 and 1836, the subject +of this sketch was exhibited in great state upon the rostrum +of the orator of the day, and in November of 1840 he died again. +The St. Louis REPUBLICAN of the 25th of that month spoke as follows: + + +"ANOTHER RELIC OF THE REVOLUTION GONE. + + +"George, once the favorite body-servant of General Washington, +died yesterday at the house of Mr. John Leavenworth in this city, +at the venerable age of 95 years. He was in the full possession +of his faculties up to the hour of his death, and distinctly +recollected the first and second installations and death of +President Washington, the surrender of Cornwallis, the battles +of Trenton and Monmouth, the sufferings of the patriot army at +Valley Forge, the proclamation of the Declaration of Independence, +the speech of Patrick Henry in the Virginia House of Delegates, +and many other old-time reminiscences of stirring interest. +Few white men die lamented as was this aged negro. The funeral +was very largely attended." + + +During the next ten or eleven years the subject of this sketch +appeared at intervals at Fourth-of-July celebrations in various +parts of the country, and was exhibited upon the rostrum with +flattering success. But in the fall of 1855 he died again. +The California papers thus speak of the event: + + +ANOTHER OLD HERO GONE + + +Died, at Dutch Flat, on the 7th of March, George (once the confidential +body-servant of General Washington), at the great age of 95 years. +His memory, which did not fail him till the last, was a wonderful +storehouse of interesting reminiscences. He could distinctly recollect +the first and second installations and death of President Washington, +the surrender of Cornwallis, the battles of Trenton and Monmouth, +and Bunker Hill, the proclamation of the Declaration of Independence, +and Braddock's defeat. George was greatly respected in Dutch Flat, +and it is estimated that there were 10,000 people present at +his funeral. + + +The last time the subject of this sketch died was in June, 1864; and until +we learn the contrary, it is just to presume that he died permanently +this time. The Michigan papers thus refer to the sorrowful event: + + +ANOTHER CHERISHED REMNANT OF THE REVOLUTION GONE + + +George, a colored man, and once the favorite body-servant of +George Washington, died in Detroit last week, at the patriarchal age +of 95 years. To the moment of his death his intellect was unclouded, +and he could distinctly remember the first and second installations +and death of Washington, the surrender of Cornwallis, the battles +of Trenton and Monmouth, and Bunker Hill, the proclamation of the +Declaration of Independence, Braddock's defeat, the throwing over +of the tea in Boston harbor, and the landing of the Pilgrims. +He died greatly respected, and was followed to the grave by a vast +concourse of people. + + +The faithful old servant is gone! We shall never see him more until +he turns up again. He has closed his long and splendid career +of dissolution, for the present, and sleeps peacefully, as only they sleep +who have earned their rest. He was in all respects a remarkable man. +He held his age better than any celebrity that has figured in history; +and the longer he lived the stronger and longer his memory grew. +If he lives to die again, he will distinctly recollect the discovery +of America. + +The above r'esum'e of his biography I believe to be substantially +correct, although it is possible that he may have died once or twice +in obscure places where the event failed of newspaper notoriety. +One fault I find in all the notices of his death I have quoted, +and this ought to be correct. In them he uniformly and impartially +died at the age of 95. This could not have been. He might have +done that once, or maybe twice, but he could not have continued +it indefinitely. Allowing that when he first died, he died at +the age of 95, he was 151 years old when he died last, in 1864. +But his age did not keep pace with his recollections. When he died +the last time, he distinctly remembered the landing of the Pilgrims, +which took place in 1620. He must have been about twenty years +old when he witnessed that event, wherefore it is safe to assert +that the body-servant of General Washington was in the neighborhood +of two hundred and sixty or seventy years old when he departed this +life finally. + +Having waited a proper length of time, to see if the subject of his +sketch had gone from us reliably and irrevocably, I now publish his +biography with confidence, and respectfully offer it to a mourning nation. + +P.S.--I see by the papers that this imfamous old fraud has just +died again, in Arkansas. This makes six times that he is known +to have died, and always in a new place. The death of Washington's +body-servant has ceased to be a novelty; it's charm is gone; +the people are tired of it; let it cease. This well-meaning +but misguided negro has not put six different communities to the +expense of burying him in state, and has swindled tens of thousands +of people into following him to the grave under the delusion that +a select and peculiar distinction was being conferred upon them. +Let him stay buried for good now; and let that newspaper suffer +the severest censure that shall ever, in all the future time, +publish to the world that General Washington's favorite colored +body-servant has died again. + + +*** + + + +WIT INSPIRATIONS OF THE "TWO-YEAR-OLDS" + + + +All infants appear to have an impertinent and disagreeable fashion +nowadays of saying "smart" things on most occasions that offer, +and especially on occasions when they ought not to be saying anything +at all. Judging by the average published specimens of smart sayings, +the rising generation of children are little better than idiots. +And the parents must surely be but little better than the children, +for in most cases they are the publishers of the sunbursts of infantile +imbecility which dazzle us from the pages of our periodicals. +I may seem to speak with some heat, not to say a suspicion of +personal spite; and I do admit that it nettles me to hear about so +many gifted infants in these days, and remember that I seldom said +anything smart when I was a child. I tried it once or twice, but it +was not popular. The family were not expecting brilliant remarks +from me, and so they snubbed me sometimes and spanked me the rest. +But it makes my flesh creep and my blood run cold to think what might +have happened to me if I had dared to utter some of the smart things +of this generation's "four-year-olds" where my father could hear me. +To have simply skinned me alive and considered his duty at an end +would have seemed to him criminal leniency toward one so sinning. +He was a stern, unsmiling man, and hated all forms of precocity. +If I had said some of the things I have referred to, and said them in +his hearing, he would have destroyed me. He would, indeed. He would, +provided the opportunity remained with him. But it would not, +for I would have had judgment enough to take some strychnine first +and say my smart thing afterward. The fair record of my life has +been tarnished by just one pun. My father overheard that, and he +hunted me over four or five townships seeking to take my life. +If I had been full-grown, of course he would have been right; +but, child as I was, I could not know how wicked a thing I +had done. + +I made one of those remarks ordinarily called "smart things" +before that, but it was not a pun. Still, it came near causing a +serious rupture between my father and myself. My father and mother, +my uncle Ephraim and his wife, and one or two others were present, +and the conversation turned on a name for me. I was lying there +trying some India-rubber rings of various patterns, and endeavoring +to make a selection, for I was tired of trying to cut my teeth on +people's fingers, and wanted to get hold of something that would +enable me to hurry the thing through and get something else. +Did you ever notice what a nuisance it was cutting your teeth on +your nurse's finger, or how back-breaking and tiresome it was trying +to cut them on your big toe? And did you never get out of patience +and wish your teeth were in Jerico long before you got them half cut? +To me it seems as if these things happened yesterday. And they did, +to some children. But I digress. I was lying there trying the +India-rubber rings. I remember looking at the clock and noticing +that in an hour and twenty-five minutes I would be two weeks old, +and thinking how little I had done to merit the blessings that were so +unsparingly lavished upon me. My father said: + +"Abraham is a good name. My grandfather was named Abraham." + +My mother said: + +"Abraham is a good name. Very well. Let us have Abraham for one +of his names." + +I said: + +"Abraham suits the subscriber." + +My father frowned, my mother looked pleased; my aunt said: + +"What a little darling it is!" + +My father said: + +"Isaac is a good name, and Jacob is a good name." + +My mother assented, and said: + +"No names are better. Let us add Isaac and Jacob to his names." + +I said: + +"All right. Isaac and Jacob are good enough for yours truly. +Pass me that rattle, if you please. I can't chew India-rubber rings +all day." + +Not a soul made a memorandum of these sayings of mine, for publication. +I saw that, and did it myself, else they would have been utterly lost. +So far from meeting with a generous encouragement like other children +when developing intellectually, I was now furiously scowled upon +by my father; my mother looked grieved and anxious, and even my aunt +had about her an expression of seeming to think that maybe I had +gone too far. I took a vicious bite out of an India-rubber ring, +and covertly broke the rattle over the kitten's head, but said nothing. +Presently my father said: + +"Samuel is a very excellent name." + +I saw that trouble was coming. Nothing could prevent it. I laid +down my rattle; over the side of the cradle I dropped my uncle's +silver watch, the clothes-brush, the toy dog, my tin soldier, +the nutmeg-grater, and other matters which I was accustomed to examine, +and meditate upon and make pleasant noises with, and bang and batter +and break when I needed wholesome entertainment. Then I put on my +little frock and my little bonnet, and took my pygmy shoes in one +hand and my licorice in the other, and climbed out on the floor. +I said to myself, Now, if the worse comes to worst, I am ready. +Then I said aloud, in a firm voice: + +"Father, I cannot, cannot wear the name of Samuel." + +"My son!" + +"Father, I mean it. I cannot." + +"Why?" + +"Father, I have an invincible antipathy to that name." + +"My son, this is unreasonable. Many great and good men have been +named Samuel." + +"Sir, I have yet to hear of the first instance." + +"What! There was Samuel the prophet. Was not he great and good?" + +"Not so very." + +"My son! With His own voice the Lord called him." + +"Yes, sir, and had to call him a couple times before he could come!" + +And then I sallied forth, and that stern old man sallied forth after me. +He overtook me at noon the following day, and when the interview was +over I had acquired the name of Samuel, and a thrashing, and other +useful information; and by means of this compromise my father's +wrath was appeased and a misunderstanding bridged over which might +have become a permanent rupture if I had chosen to be unreasonable. +But just judging by this episode, what would my father have done +to me if I had ever uttered in his hearing one of the flat, +sickly things these "two-years-olds" say in print nowadays? +In my opinion there would have been a case of infanticide in our family. + + +*** + + + +AN ENTERTAINING ARTICLE + + + +I take the following paragraph from an article in the Boston ADVERTISER: + + +AN ENGLISH CRITIC ON MARK TWAIN + + +Perhaps the most successful flights of humor of Mark Twain have been +descriptions of the persons who did not appreciate his humor at all. +We have become familiar with the Californians who were thrilled with +terror by his burlesque of a newspaper reporter's way of telling a story, +and we have heard of the Pennsylvania clergyman who sadly returned +his INNOCENTS ABROAD to the book-agent with the remark that "the +man who could shed tears over the tomb of Adam must be an idiot." +But Mark Twain may now add a much more glorious instance to his string +of trophies. The SATURDAY REVIEW, in its number of October 8th, +reviews his book of travels, which has been republished in England, +and reviews it seriously. We can imagine the delight of the humorist +in reading this tribute to his power; and indeed it is so amusing +in itself that he can hardly do better than reproduce the article +in full in his next monthly Memoranda. + + +(Publishing the above paragraph thus, gives me a sort of authority +for reproducing the SATURDAY REVIEW'S article in full in these pages. +I dearly wanted to do it, for I cannot write anything half so +delicious myself. If I had a cast-iron dog that could read this +English criticism and preserve his austerity, I would drive him +off the door-step.) + + +(From the London "Saturday Review.") + + +REVIEWS OF NEW BOOKS + + +THE INNOCENTS ABROAD. A Book of Travels. By Mark Twain. +London: Hotten, publisher. 1870. + + +Lord Macaulay died too soon. We never felt this so deeply as when we +finished the last chapter of the above-named extravagant work. +Macaulay died too soon--for none but he could mete out complete +and comprehensive justice to the insolence, the impertinence, +the presumption, the mendacity, and, above all, the majestic ignorance +of this author. + +To say that the INNOCENTS ABROAD is a curious book, would be to +use the faintest language--would be to speak of the Matterhorn +as a neat elevation or of Niagara as being "nice" or "pretty." +"Curious" is too tame a word wherewith to describe the imposing insanity +of this work. There is no word that is large enough or long enough. +Let us, therefore, photograph a passing glimpse of book and author, +and trust the rest to the reader. Let the cultivated English student +of human nature picture to himself this Mark Twain as a person capable +of doing the following-described things--and not only doing them, +but with incredible innocence PRINTING THEM calmly and tranquilly +in a book. For instance: + +He states that he entered a hair-dresser's in Paris to get shaved, +and the first "rake" the barber gave him with his razor it LOOSENED +HIS "HIDE" and LIFTED HIM OUT OF THE CHAIR. + +This is unquestionably exaggerated. In Florence he was so annoyed +by beggars that he pretends to have seized and eaten one in a +frantic spirit of revenge. There is, of course, no truth in this. +He gives at full length a theatrical program seventeen or eighteen +hundred years old, which he professes to have found in the ruins +of the Coliseum, among the dirt and mold and rubbish. It is a +sufficient comment upon this statement to remark that even a cast-iron +program would not have lasted so long under such circumstances. +In Greece he plainly betrays both fright and flight upon one occasion, +but with frozen effrontery puts the latter in this falsely tamed form: +"We SIDLED toward the Piraeus." "Sidled," indeed! He does not hesitate +to intimate that at Ephesus, when his mule strayed from the proper course, +he got down, took him under his arm, carried him to the road again, +pointed him right, remounted, and went to sleep contentedly till +it was time to restore the beast to the path once more. He states +that a growing youth among his ship's passengers was in the constant +habit of appeasing his hunger with soap and oakum between meals. +In Palestine he tells of ants that came eleven miles to spend +the summer in the desert and brought their provisions with them; +yet he shows by his description of the country that the feat was +an impossibility. He mentions, as if it were the most commonplace +of matters, that he cut a Moslem in two in broad daylight in Jerusalem, +with Godfrey de Bouillon's sword, and would have shed more blood IF +HE HAD HAD A GRAVEYARD OF HIS OWN. These statements are unworthy +a moment's attention. Mr. Twain or any other foreigner who did +such a thing in Jerusalem would be mobbed, and would infallibly +lose his life. But why go on? Why repeat more of his audacious +and exasperating falsehoods? Let us close fittingly with this one: +he affirms that "in the mosque of St. Sophia at Constantinople +I got my feet so stuck up with a complication of gums, slime, +and general impurity, that I wore out more than two thousand +pair of bootjacks getting my boots off that night, and even then +some Christian hide peeled off with them." It is monstrous. +Such statements are simply lies--there is no other name for them. +Will the reader longer marvel at the brutal ignorance that pervades +the American nation when we tell him that we are informed upon perfectly +good authority that this extravagant compilation of falsehoods, +this exhaustless mine of stupendous lies, this INNOCENTS ABROAD, +has actually been adopted by the schools and colleges of several +of the states as a text-book! + +But if his falsehoods are distressing, his innocence and his ignorance +are enough to make one burn the book and despise the author. In one +place he was so appalled at the sudden spectacle of a murdered man, +unveiled by the moonlight, that he jumped out of the window, +going through sash and all, and then remarks with the most childlike +simplicity that he "was not scared, but was considerably agitated." +It puts us out of patience to note that the simpleton is densely +unconscious that Lucrezia Borgia ever existed off the stage. +He is vulgarly ignorant of all foreign languages, but is frank enough +to criticize, the Italians' use of their own tongue. He says they +spell the name of their great painter "Vinci, but pronounce it Vinchy"-- +and then adds with a na:ivet'e possible only to helpless ignorance, +"foreigners always spell better than they pronounce." In another +place he commits the bald absurdity of putting the phrase "tare +an ouns" into an Italian's mouth. In Rome he unhesitatingly +believes the legend that St. Philip Neri's heart was so inflamed +with divine love that it burst his ribs--believes it wholly +because an author with a learned list of university degrees strung +after his name endorses it--"otherwise," says this gentle idiot, +"I should have felt a curiosity to know what Philip had for dinner." +Our author makes a long, fatiguing journey to the Grotto del Cane +on purpose to test its poisoning powers on a dog--got elaborately +ready for the experiment, and then discovered that he had no dog. +A wiser person would have kept such a thing discreetly to himself, +but with this harmless creature everything comes out. He hurts +his foot in a rut two thousand years old in exhumed Pompeii, +and presently, when staring at one of the cinder-like corpses unearthed +in the next square, conceives the idea that maybe it is the remains +of the ancient Street Commissioner, and straightway his horror softens +down to a sort of chirpy contentment with the condition of things. +In Damascus he visits the well of Ananias, three thousand years old, +and is as surprised and delighted as a child to find that the water +is "as pure and fresh as if the well had been dug yesterday." +In the Holy Land he gags desperately at the hard Arabic and Hebrew +Biblical names, and finally concludes to call them Baldwinsville, +Williamsburgh, and so on, "for convenience of spelling." + +We have thus spoken freely of this man's stupefying simplicity +and innocence, but we cannot deal similarly with his colossal ignorance. +We do not know where to begin. And if we knew where to begin, +we certainly would not know where to leave off. We will give +one specimen, and one only. He did not know, until he got to Rome, +that Michael Angelo was dead! And then, instead of crawling away +and hiding his shameful ignorance somewhere, he proceeds to express +a pious, grateful sort of satisfaction that he is gone and out +of his troubles! + +No, the reader may seek out the author's exhibition of his +uncultivation for himself. The book is absolutely dangerous, +considering the magnitude and variety of its misstatements, +and the convincing confidence with which they are made. +And yet it is a text-book in the schools of America. + +The poor blunderer mouses among the sublime creations of the +Old Masters, trying to acquire the elegant proficiency in +art-knowledge, which he has a groping sort of comprehension is a +proper thing for a traveled man to be able to display. But what is +the manner of his study? And what is the progress he achieves? +To what extent does he familiarize himself with the great pictures +of Italy, and what degree of appreciation does he arrive at? Read: + +"When we see a monk going about with a lion and looking up into heaven, +we know that that is St. Mark. When we see a monk with a book and a pen, +looking tranquilly up to heaven, trying to think of a word, we know +that that is St. Matthew. When we see a monk sitting on a rock, +looking tranquilly up to heaven, with a human skull beside him, +and without other baggage, we know that that is St. Jerome. +Because we know that he always went flying light in the matter +of baggage. When we see other monks looking tranquilly up to heaven, +but having no trade-mark, we always ask who those parties are. +We do this because we humbly wish to learn." + +He then enumerates the thousands and thousand of copies of these +several pictures which he has seen, and adds with accustomed +simplicity that he feels encouraged to believe that when he has seen +"Some More" of each, and had a larger experience, he will eventually +"begin to take an absorbing interest in them"--the vulgar boor. + +That we have shown this to be a remarkable book, we think no one +will deny. That is a pernicious book to place in the hands of the +confiding and uniformed, we think we have also shown. That the book +is a deliberate and wicked creation of a diseased mind, is apparent +upon every page. Having placed our judgment thus upon record, +let us close with what charity we can, by remarking that even in this +volume there is some good to be found; for whenever the author talks +of his own country and lets Europe alone, he never fails to make +himself interesting, and not only interesting but instructive. +No one can read without benefit his occasional chapters and paragraphs, +about life in the gold and silver mines of California and Nevada; +about the Indians of the plains and deserts of the West, +and their cannibalism; about the raising of vegetables in kegs of +gunpowder by the aid of two or three teaspoons of guano; about the +moving of small arms from place to place at night in wheelbarrows +to avoid taxes; and about a sort of cows and mules in the Humboldt +mines, that climb down chimneys and disturb the people at night. +These matters are not only new, but are well worth knowing. +It is a pity the author did not put in more of the same kind. +His book is well written and is exceedingly entertaining, and so it +just barely escaped being quite valuable also. + + +(One month later) + + +Latterly I have received several letters, and see a number of +newspaper paragraphs, all upon a certain subject, and all of about +the same tenor. I here give honest specimens. One is from a New +York paper, one is from a letter from an old friend, and one is +from a letter from a New York publisher who is a stranger to me. +I humbly endeavor to make these bits toothsome with the remark that +the article they are praising (which appeared in the December GALAXY, +and PRETENDED to be a criticism from the London SATURDAY REVIEW +on my INNOCENTS ABROAD) WAS WRITTEN BY MYSELF, EVERY LINE OF IT: + + +The HERALD says the richest thing out is the "serious critique" +in the London SATURDAY REVIEW, on Mark Twain's INNOCENTS ABROAD. +We thought before we read it that it must be "serious," as everybody +said so, and were even ready to shed a few tears; but since perusing it, +we are bound to confess that next to Mark Twain's "Jumping Frog" +it's the finest bit of humor and sarcasm that we've come across in many +a day. + + +(I do not get a compliment like that every day.) + + +I used to think that your writings were pretty good, but after reading +the criticism in THE GALAXY from the LONDON REVIEW, have discovered +what an ass I must have been. If suggestions are in order, mine is, +that you put that article in your next edition of the INNOCENTS, +as an extra chapter, if you are not afraid to put your own humor +in competition with it. It is as rich a thing as I ever read. + + +(Which is strong commendation from a book publisher.) + + +The London Reviewer, my friend, is not the stupid, "serious" creature +he pretends to be, _I_ think; but, on the contrary, has a keep +appreciation and enjoyment of your book. As I read his article in +THE GALAXY, I could imagine him giving vent to many a hearty laugh. +But he is writing for Catholics and Established Church people, +and high-toned, antiquated, conservative gentility, whom it is +a delight to him to help you shock, while he pretends to shake his +head with owlish density. He is a magnificent humorist himself. + + +(Now that is graceful and handsome. I take off my hat to my life-long +friend and comrade, and with my feet together and my fingers spread +over my heart, I say, in the language of Alabama, "You do me proud.") + +I stand guilty of the authorship of the article, but I did not mean +any harm. I saw by an item in the Boston ADVERTISER that a solemn, +serious critique on the English edition of my book had appeared +in the London SATURDAY REVIEW, and the idea of SUCH a literary +breakfast by a stolid, ponderous British ogre of the quill was too +much for a naturally weak virtue, and I went home and burlesqued it-- +reveled in it, I may say. I never saw a copy of the real SATURDAY +REVIEW criticism until after my burlesque was written and mailed +to the printer. But when I did get hold of a copy, I found it +to be vulgar, awkwardly written, ill-natured, and entirely serious +and in earnest. The gentleman who wrote the newspaper paragraph +above quoted had not been misled as to its character. + +If any man doubts my word now, I will kill him. No, I will not +kill him; I will win his money. I will bet him twenty to one, +and let any New York publisher hold the stakes, that the statements I +have above made as to the authorship of the article in question are +entirely true. Perhaps I may get wealthy at this, for I am willing +to take all the bets that offer; and if a man wants larger odds, +I will give him all he requires. But he ought to find out whether +I am betting on what is termed "a sure thing" or not before he +ventures his money, and he can do that by going to a public +library and examining the London SATURDAY REVIEW of October 8th, +which contains the real critique. + +Bless me, some people thought that _I_ was the "sold" person! + + +P.S.--I cannot resist the temptation to toss in this most savory +thing of all--this easy, graceful, philosophical disquisition, +with his happy, chirping confidence. It is from the Cincinnati ENQUIRER: + + +Nothing is more uncertain than the value of a fine cigar. +Nine smokers out of ten would prefer an ordinary domestic article, +three for a quarter, to fifty-cent Partaga, if kept in ignorance +of the cost of the latter. The flavor of the Partaga is too delicate +for palates that have been accustomed to Connecticut seed leaf. +So it is with humor. The finer it is in quality, the more danger +of its not being recognized at all. Even Mark Twain has been taken +in by an English review of his INNOCENTS ABROAD. Mark Twain is by +no means a coarse humorist, but the Englishman's humor is so much +finer than his, that he mistakes it for solid earnest, and "lafts +most consumedly." + + +A man who cannot learn stands in his own light. Hereafter, when I +write an article which I know to be good, but which I may have reason +to fear will not, in some quarters, be considered to amount to much, +coming from an American, I will aver that an Englishman wrote it +and that it is copied from a London journal. And then I will occupy +a back seat and enjoy the cordial applause. + + +(Still later) + + +Mark Twain at last sees that the SATURDAY REVIEW'S criticism of his +INNOCENTS ABROAD was not serious, and he is intensely mortified at the +thought of having been so badly sold. He takes the only course left him, +and in the last GALAXY claims that HE wrote the criticism himself, +and published it in THE GALAXY to sell the public. This is ingenious, +but unfortunately it is not true. If any of our readers will take +the trouble to call at this office we sill show them the original +article in the SATURDAY REVIEW of October 8th, which, on comparison, +will be found to be identical with the one published in THE GALAXY. +The best thing for Mark to do will be to admit that he was sold, +and say no more about it. + + +The above is from the Cincinnati ENQUIRER, and is a falsehood. +Come to the proof. If the ENQUIRER people, through any agent, +will produce at THE GALAXY office a London SATURDAY REVIEW +of October 8th, containing an article which, on comparison, +will be found to be identical with the one published in THE GALAXY, +I will pay to that agent five hundred dollars cash. Moreover, if at +any specified time I fail to produce at the same place a copy +of the London SATURDAY REVIEW of October 8th, containing a lengthy +criticism upon the INNOCENTS ABROAD, entirely different, in every +paragraph and sentence, from the one I published in THE GALAXY, +I will pay to the ENQUIRER agent another five hundred dollars cash. +I offer Sheldon & Co., publishers, 500 Broadway, New York, +as my "backers." Any one in New York, authorized by the ENQUIRER, +will receive prompt attention. It is an easy and profitable way +for the ENQUIRER people to prove that they have not uttered a pitiful, +deliberate falsehood in the above paragraphs. Will they swallow +that falsehood ignominiously, or will they send an agent to THE +GALAXY office. I think the Cincinnati ENQUIRER must be edited +by children. + + +*** + + + +A LETTER TO THE SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY + + + +Riverdale-on-the-Hudson, OCTOBER 15, 1902. + +THE HON. THE SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY, WASHINGTON, D. C.: + + +Sir,--Prices for the customary kinds of winter fuel having reached +an altitude which puts them out of the reach of literary persons in +straitened circumstances, I desire to place with you the following order: + +Forty-five tons best old dry government bonds, suitable for furnace, +gold 7 per cents., 1864, preferred. + +Twelve tons early greenbacks, range size, suitable for cooking. + +Eight barrels seasoned 25 and 50 cent postal currency, vintage of 1866, +eligible for kindlings. + +Please deliver with all convenient despatch at my house in Riverdale +at lowest rates for spot cash, and send bill to + +Your obliged servant, + +Mark Twain, Who will be very grateful, and will vote right. + + +*** + + + +AMENDED OBITUARIES + +TO THE EDITOR: + + +Sir,--I am approaching seventy; it is in sight; it is only three +years away. Necessarily, I must go soon. It is but matter-of-course +wisdom, then, that I should begin to set my worldly house in +order now, so that it may be done calmly and with thoroughness, +in place of waiting until the last day, when, as we have often seen, +the attempt to set both houses in order at the same time has been +marred by the necessity for haste and by the confusion and waste +of time arising from the inability of the notary and the ecclesiastic +to work together harmoniously, taking turn about and giving each +other friendly assistance--not perhaps in fielding, which could +hardly be expected, but at least in the minor offices of keeping +game and umpiring; by consequence of which conflict of interests +and absence of harmonious action a draw has frequently resulted +where this ill-fortune could not have happened if the houses had been +set in order one at a time and hurry avoided by beginning in season, +and giving to each the amount of time fairly and justly proper to it. + +In setting my earthly house in order I find it of moment that I +should attend in person to one or two matters which men in my +position have long had the habit of leaving wholly to others, +with consequences often most regrettable. I wish to speak of only +one of these matters at this time: Obituaries. Of necessity, +an Obituary is a thing which cannot be so judiciously edited by any hand +as by that of the subject of it. In such a work it is not the Facts +that are of chief importance, but the light which the obituarist +shall throw upon them, the meaning which he shall dress them in, +the conclusions which he shall draw from them, and the judgments +which he shall deliver upon them. The Verdicts, you understand: +that is the danger-line. + +In considering this matter, in view of my approaching change, +it has seemed to me wise to take such measures as may be feasible, +to acquire, by courtesy of the press, access to my standing obituaries, +with the privilege--if this is not asking too much--of editing, +not their Facts, but their Verdicts. This, not for the present profit, +further than as concerns my family, but as a favorable influence +usable on the Other Side, where there are some who are not friendly +to me. + +With this explanation of my motives, I will now ask you of your +courtesy to make an appeal for me to the public press. It is my +desire that such journals and periodicals as have obituaries of me +lying in their pigeonholes, with a view to sudden use some day, +will not wait longer, but will publish them now, and kindly send +me a marked copy. My address is simply New York City--I have no +other that is permanent and not transient. + +I will correct them--not the Facts, but the Verdicts--striking out +such clauses as could have a deleterious influence on the Other Side, +and replacing them with clauses of a more judicious character. +I should, of course, expect to pay double rates for both the omissions +and the substitutions; and I should also expect to pay quadruple +rates for all obituaries which proved to be rightly and wisely worded +in the originals, thus requiring no emendations at all. + +It is my desire to leave these Amended Obituaries neatly bound +behind me as a perennial consolation and entertainment to my family, +and as an heirloom which shall have a mournful but definite +commercial value for my remote posterity. + +I beg, sir, that you will insert this Advertisement (1t-eow, agate, +inside), and send the bill to + +Yours very respectfully. + +Mark Twain. + + +P.S.--For the best Obituary--one suitable for me to read in public, +and calculated to inspire regret--I desire to offer a Prize, +consisting of a Portrait of me done entirely by myself in pen and ink +without previous instructions. The ink warranted to be the kind +used by the very best artists. + + +*** + + + +A MONUMENT TO ADAM + + + +Some one has revealed to the TRIBUNE that I once suggested +to Rev. Thomas K. Beecher, of Elmira, New York, that we get up +a monument to Adam, and that Mr. Beecher favored the project. +There is more to it than that. The matter started as a joke, +but it came somewhat near to materializing. + +It is long ago--thirty years. Mr. Darwin's DESCENT OF MAN has been +in print five or six years, and the storm of indignation raised +by it was still raging in pulpits and periodicals. In tracing +the genesis of the human race back to its sources, Mr. Darwin had +left Adam out altogether. We had monkeys, and "missing links," +and plenty of other kinds of ancestors, but no Adam. Jesting with +Mr. Beecher and other friends in Elmira, I said there seemed to be +a likelihood that the world would discard Adam and accept the monkey, +and that in the course of time Adam's very name would be forgotten +in the earth; therefore this calamity ought to be averted; +a monument would accomplish this, and Elmira ought not to waste +this honorable opportunity to do Adam a favor and herself a credit. + +Then the unexpected happened. Two bankers came forward and took +hold of the matter--not for fun, not for sentiment, but because they +saw in the monument certain commercial advantages for the town. +The project had seemed gently humorous before--it was more than +that now, with this stern business gravity injected into it. +The bankers discussed the monument with me. We met several times. +They proposed an indestructible memorial, to cost twenty-five +thousand dollars. The insane oddity of a monument set up in a village +to preserve a name that would outlast the hills and the rocks without +any such help, would advertise Elmira to the ends of the earth-- +and draw custom. It would be the only monument on the planet +to Adam, and in the matter of interest and impressiveness could +never have a rival until somebody should set up a monument to the +Milky Way. + +People would come from every corner of the globe and stop off +to look at it, no tour of the world would be complete that left out +Adam's monument. Elmira would be a Mecca; there would be pilgrim +ships at pilgrim rates, pilgrim specials on the continent's railways; +libraries would be written about the monument, every tourist would +kodak it, models of it would be for sale everywhere in the earth, +its form would become as familiar as the figure of Napoleon. + +One of the bankers subscribed five thousand dollars, and I think +the other one subscribed half as much, but I do not remember with +certainty now whether that was the figure or not. We got designs made-- +some of them came from Paris. + +In the beginning--as a detail of the project when it was yet a joke-- +I had framed a humble and beseeching and perfervid petition to +Congress begging the government to built the monument, as a testimony +of the Great Republic's gratitude to the Father of the Human Race +and as a token of her loyalty to him in this dark day of humiliation +when his older children were doubting and deserting him. It seemed +to me that this petition ought to be presented, now--it would be +widely and feelingly abused and ridiculed and cursed, and would +advertise our scheme and make our ground-floor stock go off briskly. +So I sent it to General Joseph R. Hawley, who was then in the House, +and he said he would present it. But he did not do it. I think +he explained that when he came to read it he was afraid of it: +it was too serious, to gushy, too sentimental--the House might take it +for earnest. + +We ought to have carried out our monument scheme; we could +have managed it without any great difficulty, and Elmira would +now be the most celebrated town in the universe. + +Very recently I began to build a book in which one of the minor +characters touches incidentally upon a project for a monument to Adam, +and now the TRIBUNE has come upon a trace of the forgotten jest of +thirty years ago. Apparently mental telegraphy is still in business. +It is odd; but the freaks of mental telegraphy are usually odd. + + +*** + + + +A HUMANE WORD FROM SATAN + + + +[The following letter, signed by Satan and purporting to come from him, +we have reason to believe was not written by him, but by Mark Twain.-- +Editor.] + +TO THE EDITOR OF HARPER'S WEEKLY: + + +Dear Sir and Kinsman,--Let us have done with this frivolous talk. +The American Board accepts contributions from me every year: +then why shouldn't it from Mr. Rockefeller? In all the ages, +three-fourths of the support of the great charities has been +conscience-money, as my books will show: then what becomes of +the sting when that term is applied to Mr. Rockefeller's gift? +The American Board's trade is financed mainly from the graveyards. +Bequests, you understand. Conscience-money. Confession of an old +crime and deliberate perpetration of a new one; for deceased's +contribution is a robbery of his heirs. Shall the Board decline +bequests because they stand for one of these offenses every time and +generally for both? + +Allow me to continue. The charge must persistently and resentfully +and remorselessly dwelt upon is that Mr. Rockefeller's contribution is +incurably tainted by perjury--perjury proved against him in the courts. +IT MAKES US SMILE--down in my place! Because there isn't a rich +man in your vast city who doesn't perjure himself every year before +the tax board. They are all caked with perjury, many layers thick. +Iron-clad, so to speak. If there is one that isn't, I desire +to acquire him for my museum, and will pay Dinosaur rates. +Will you say it isn't infraction of the law, but only annual evasion +of it? Comfort yourselves with that nice distinction if you like-- +FOR THE PRESENT. But by and by, when you arrive, I will show you +something interesting: a whole hell-full of evaders! Sometimes a +frank law-breaker turns up elsewhere, but I get those others every time. + +To return to my muttons. I wish you to remember that my rich +perjurers are contributing to the American Board with frequency: +it is money filched from the sworn-off personal tax; therefore it +is the wages of sin; therefore it is my money; therefore it is _I_ +that contribute it; and, finally, it is therefore as I have said: +since the Board daily accepts contributions from me, why should it +decline them from Mr. Rockefeller, who is as good as I am, let the +courts say what they may? + + +Satan. + + +*** + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO "THE NEW GUIDE OF THE CONVERSATION IN + +PORTUGUESE AND ENGLISH" + + +by Pedro Carolino + + + +In this world of uncertainties, there is, at any rate, one thing +which may be pretty confidently set down as a certainty: and that is, +that this celebrated little phrase-book will never die while the +English language lasts. Its delicious unconscious ridiculousness, +and its enchanting na:ivet'e, as are supreme and unapproachable, +in their way, as are Shakespeare's sublimities. Whatsoever is +perfect in its kind, in literature, is imperishable: nobody can +imitate it successfully, nobody can hope to produce its fellow; +it is perfect, it must and will stand alone: its immortality +is secure. + +It is one of the smallest books in the world, but few big books have +received such wide attention, and been so much pondered by the grave +and learned, and so much discussed and written about by the thoughtful, +the thoughtless, the wise, and the foolish. Long notices of it +have appeared, from time to time, in the great English reviews, +and in erudite and authoritative philological periodicals; and it +has been laughed at, danced upon, and tossed in a blanket by nearly +every newspaper and magazine in the English-speaking world. +Every scribbler, almost, has had his little fling at it, at one time +or another; I had mine fifteen years ago. The book gets out of print, +every now and then, and one ceases to hear of it for a season; +but presently the nations and near and far colonies of our tongue +and lineage call for it once more, and once more it issues from some +London or Continental or American press, and runs a new course around +the globe, wafted on its way by the wind of a world's laughter. + +Many persons have believed that this book's miraculous stupidities +were studied and disingenuous; but no one can read the volume +carefully through and keep that opinion. It was written in +serious good faith and deep earnestness, by an honest and upright +idiot who believed he knew something of the English language, +and could impart his knowledge to others. The amplest proof +of this crops out somewhere or other upon each and every page. +There are sentences in the book which could have been manufactured +by a man in his right mind, and with an intelligent and deliberate +purposes to seem innocently ignorant; but there are other sentences, +and paragraphs, which no mere pretended ignorance could ever achieve-- +nor yet even the most genuine and comprehensive ignorance, +when unbacked by inspiration. + +It is not a fraud who speaks in the following paragraph of the +author's Preface, but a good man, an honest man, a man whose conscience +is at rest, a man who believes he has done a high and worthy work for +his nation and his generation, and is well pleased with his performance: + + +We expect then, who the little book (for the care what we wrote him, +and for her typographical correction) that may be worth the +acceptation of the studious persons, and especially of the Youth, +at which we dedicate him particularly. + + +One cannot open this book anywhere and not find richness. +To prove that this is true, I will open it at random and copy +the page I happen to stumble upon. Here is the result: + + + +DIALOGUE 16 + + +For To See the Town + + + +Anothony, go to accompany they gentilsmen, do they see the town. + +We won't to see all that is it remarquable here. + +Come with me, if you please. I shall not folget nothing what can +to merit your attention. Here we are near to cathedral; will you +come in there? + +We will first to see him in oudside, after we shall go in there +for to look the interior. + +Admire this master piece gothic architecture's. + +The chasing of all they figures is astonishing' indeed. + +The cupola and the nave are not less curious to see. + +What is this palace how I see yonder? + +It is the town hall. + +And this tower here at this side? + +It is the Observatory. + +The bridge is very fine, it have ten arches, and is constructed +of free stone. + +The streets are very layed out by line and too paved. + +What is the circuit of this town? + +Two leagues. + +There is it also hospitals here? + +It not fail them. + +What are then the edifices the worthest to have seen? + +It is the arsnehal, the spectacle's hall, the Cusiomhouse, +and the Purse. + +We are going too see the others monuments such that the public +pawnbroker's office, the plants garden's, the money office's, +the library. + +That it shall be for another day; we are tired. + + + +DIALOGUE 17 + + +To Inform One'self of a Person + + + +How is that gentilman who you did speak by and by? + +Is a German. + +I did think him Englishman. + +He is of the Saxony side. + +He speak the french very well. + +Tough he is German, he speak so much well italyan, french, spanish +and english, that among the Italyans, they believe him Italyan, +he speak the frenche as the Frenches himselves. The Spanishesmen +believe him Spanishing, and the Englishes, Englishman. It is +difficult to enjoy well so much several languages. + + +The last remark contains a general truth; but it ceases to be a truth +when one contracts it and apples it to an individual--provided that +that individual is the author of this book, Sehnor Pedro Carolino. +I am sure I should not find it difficult "to enjoy well so much +several languages"--or even a thousand of them--if he did the +translating for me from the originals into his ostensible English. + + +*** + + + +ADVICE TO LITTLE GIRLS + + + +Good little girls ought not to make mouths at their teachers for +every trifling offense. This retaliation should only be resorted +to under peculiarly aggravated circumstances. + +If you have nothing but a rag-doll stuffed with sawdust, while one +of your more fortunate little playmates has a costly China one, +you should treat her with a show of kindness nevertheless. +And you ought not to attempt to make a forcible swap with her unless +your conscience would justify you in it, and you know you are able +to do it. + +You ought never to take your little brother's "chewing-gum" away +from him by main force; it is better to rope him in with the promise +of the first two dollars and a half you find floating down the +river on a grindstone. In the artless simplicity natural to this +time of life, he will regard it as a perfectly fair transaction. +In all ages of the world this eminently plausible fiction has lured +the obtuse infant to financial ruin and disaster. + +If at any time you find it necessary to correct your brother, +do not correct him with mud--never, on any account, throw mud at him, +because it will spoil his clothes. It is better to scald him a little, +for then you obtain desirable results. You secure his immediate +attention to the lessons you are inculcating, and at the same time +your hot water will have a tendency to move impurities from his person, +and possibly the skin, in spots. + +If your mother tells you to do a thing, it is wrong to reply +that you won't. It is better and more becoming to intimate +that you will do as she bids you, and then afterward act quietly +in the matter according to the dictates of your best judgment. + +You should ever bear in mind that it is to your kind parents that you +are indebted for your food, and for the privilege of staying home +from school when you let on that you are sick. Therefore you ought +to respect their little prejudices, and humor their little whims, +and put up with their little foibles until they get to crowding you +too much. + +Good little girls always show marked deference for the aged. +You ought never to "sass" old people unless they "sass" you first. + + +*** + + + +POST-MORTEM POETRY [1] + + + +In Philadelphia they have a custom which it would be pleasant +to see adopted throughout the land. It is that of appending to +published death-notices a little verse or two of comforting poetry. +Any one who is in the habit of reading the daily Philadelphia +LEDGER must frequently be touched by these plaintive tributes +to extinguished worth. In Philadelphia, the departure of a child +is a circumstance which is not more surely followed by a burial +than by the accustomed solacing poesy in the PUBLIC LEDGER. +In that city death loses half its terror because the knowledge +of its presence comes thus disguised in the sweet drapery of verse. +For instance, in a late LEDGER I find the following (I change +the surname): + + +DIED + + +Hawks.--On the 17th inst., Clara, the daughter of Ephraim +and Laura Hawks, aged 21 months and 2 days. + + +That merry shout no more I hear, + +No laughing child I see, + +No little arms are around my neck, + +No feet upon my knee; + + +No kisses drop upon my cheek, + +These lips are sealed to me. + +Dear Lord, how could I give Clara up + +To any but to Thee? + + +A child thus mourned could not die wholly discontented. +From the LEDGER of the same date I make the following extract, +merely changing the surname, as before: + + +Becket.--On Sunday morning, 19th inst., John P., infant son +of George and Julia Becket, aged 1 year, 6 months, and 15 days. + + +That merry shout no more I hear, + +No laughing child I see, + +No little arms are round my neck, + +No feet upon my knee; + + +No kisses drop upon my cheek; + +These lips are sealed to me. + +Dear Lord, how could I give Johnnie up + +To any but to Thee? + + +The similarity of the emotions as produced in the mourners in these +two instances is remarkably evidenced by the singular similarity +of thought which they experienced, and the surprising coincidence +of language used by them to give it expression. + +In the same journal, of the same date, I find the following +(surname suppressed, as before): + + +Wagner.--On the 10th inst., Ferguson G., the son of William +L. and Martha Theresa Wagner, aged 4 weeks and 1 day. + + +That merry shout no more I hear, + +No laughing child I see, + +No little arms are round my neck, + +No feet upon my knee; + + +No kisses drop upon my cheek, + +These lips are sealed to me. + +Dear Lord, how could I give Ferguson up + +To any but to Thee? + + +It is strange what power the reiteration of an essentially poetical +thought has upon one's feelings. When we take up the LEDGER +and read the poetry about little Clara, we feel an unaccountable +depression of the spirits. When we drift further down the column +and read the poetry about little Johnnie, the depression and spirits +acquires and added emphasis, and we experience tangible suffering. +When we saunter along down the column further still and read +the poetry about little Ferguson, the word torture but vaguely +suggests the anguish that rends us. + +In the LEDGER (same copy referred to above) I find the following +(I alter surname, as usual): + + +Welch.--On the 5th inst., Mary C. Welch, wife of William B. Welch, +and daughter of Catharine and George W. Markland, in the 29th year +of her age. + + +A mother dear, a mother kind, + +Has gone and left us all behind. + +Cease to weep, for tears are vain, + +Mother dear is out of pain. + + +Farewell, husband, children dear, + +Serve thy God with filial fear, + +And meet me in the land above, + +Where all is peace, and joy, and love. + + +What could be sweeter than that? No collection of salient facts +(without reduction to tabular form) could be more succinctly stated +than is done in the first stanza by the surviving relatives, +and no more concise and comprehensive program of farewells, +post-mortuary general orders, etc., could be framed in any +form than is done in verse by deceased in the last stanza. +These things insensibly make us wiser and tenderer, and better. +Another extract: + + +Ball.--On the morning of the 15th inst., Mary E., daughter of John +and Sarah F. Ball. + + +'Tis sweet to rest in lively hope + +That when my change shall come + +Angels will hover round my bed, + +To waft my spirit home. + + +The following is apparently the customary form for heads of families: + + +Burns.--On the 20th inst., Michael Burns, aged 40 years. + + +Dearest father, thou hast left us, + +Hear thy loss we deeply feel; + +But 'tis God that has bereft us, + +He can all our sorrows heal. + + +Funeral at 2 o'clock sharp. + + +There is something very simple and pleasant about the following, +which, in Philadelphia, seems to be the usual form for consumptives +of long standing. (It deplores four distinct cases in the single +copy of the LEDGER which lies on the Memoranda editorial table): + + +Bromley.--On the 29th inst., of consumption, Philip Bromley, +in the 50th year of his age. + + +Affliction sore long time he bore, + +Physicians were in vain-- + +Till God at last did hear him mourn, + +And eased him of his pain. + + +That friend whom death from us has torn, + +We did not think so soon to part; + +An anxious care now sinks the thorn + +Still deeper in our bleeding heart. + + +This beautiful creation loses nothing by repetition. On the contrary, +the oftener one sees it in the LEDGER, the more grand and awe-inspiring +it seems. + +With one more extract I will close: + + +Doble.--On the 4th inst., Samuel Pervil Worthington Doble, +aged 4 days. + + +Our little Sammy's gone, + +His tiny spirit's fled; + +Our little boy we loved so dear + +Lies sleeping with the dead. + + +A tear within a father's eye, + +A mother's aching heart, + +Can only tell the agony + +How hard it is to part. + + +Could anything be more plaintive than that, without requiring further +concessions of grammar? Could anything be likely to do more toward +reconciling deceased to circumstances, and making him willing to go? +Perhaps not. The power of song can hardly be estimated. There is +an element about some poetry which is able to make even physical +suffering and death cheerful things to contemplate and consummations +to be desired. This element is present in the mortuary poetry +of Philadelphia degree of development. + +The custom I have been treating of is one that should be adopted +in all the cities of the land. + +It is said that once a man of small consequence died, and the +Rev. T. K. Beecher was asked to preach the funeral sermon-- +a man who abhors the lauding of people, either dead or alive, +except in dignified and simple language, and then only for merits +which they actually possessed or possess, not merits which they +merely ought to have possessed. The friends of the deceased got +up a stately funeral. They must have had misgivings that the +corpse might not be praised strongly enough, for they prepared +some manuscript headings and notes in which nothing was left +unsaid on that subject that a fervid imagination and an unabridged +dictionary could compile, and these they handed to the minister +as he entered the pulpit. They were merely intended as suggestions, +and so the friends were filled with consternation when the minister +stood in the pulpit and proceeded to read off the curious odds +and ends in ghastly detail and in a loud voice! And their +consternation solidified to petrification when he paused at the end, +contemplated the multitude reflectively, and then said, impressively: + +"The man would be a fool who tried to add anything to that. +Let us pray!" + +And with the same strict adhesion to truth it can be said that the +man would be a fool who tried to add anything to the following +transcendent obituary poem. There is something so innocent, +so guileless, so complacent, so unearthly serene and self-satisfied +about this peerless "hog-wash," that the man must be made of stone +who can read it without a dulcet ecstasy creeping along his backbone +and quivering in his marrow. There is no need to say that this +poem is genuine and in earnest, for its proofs are written all +over its face. An ingenious scribbler might imitate it after +a fashion, but Shakespeare himself could not counterfeit it. +It is noticeable that the country editor who published it did +not know that it was a treasure and the most perfect thing of its +kind that the storehouses and museums of literature could show. +He did not dare to say no to the dread poet--for such a poet +must have been something of an apparition--but he just shoveled +it into his paper anywhere that came handy, and felt ashamed, +and put that disgusted "Published by Request" over it, and hoped +that his subscribers would overlook it or not feel an impulse to read it: + + +(Published by Request + + +LINES + +Composed on the death of Samuel and Catharine Belknap's children + + +by M. A. Glaze + + + +Friends and neighbors all draw near, + +And listen to what I have to say; + +And never leave your children dear + +When they are small, and go away. + + +But always think of that sad fate, + +That happened in year of '63; + +Four children with a house did burn, + +Think of their awful agony. + + +Their mother she had gone away, + +And left them there alone to stay; + +The house took fire and down did burn; + +Before their mother did return. + + +Their piteous cry the neighbors heard, + +And then the cry of fire was given; + +But, ah! before they could them reach, + +Their little spirits had flown to heaven. + + +Their father he to war had gone, + +And on the battle-field was slain; + +But little did he think when he went away, + +But what on earth they would meet again. + + +The neighbors often told his wife + +Not to leave his children there, + +Unless she got some one to stay, + +And of the little ones take care. + + +The oldest he was years not six, + +And the youngest only eleven months old, + +But often she had left them there alone, + +As, by the neighbors, I have been told. + + +How can she bear to see the place. + +Where she so oft has left them there, + +Without a single one to look to them, + +Or of the little ones to take good care. + + +Oh, can she look upon the spot, + +Whereunder their little burnt bones lay, + +But what she thinks she hears them say, + +''Twas God had pity, and took us on high.' + + +And there may she kneel down and pray, + +And ask God her to forgive; + +And she may lead a different life + +While she on earth remains to live. + + +Her husband and her children too, + +God has took from pain and woe. + +May she reform and mend her ways, + +That she may also to them go. + + +And when it is God's holy will, + +O, may she be prepared + +To meet her God and friends in peace, + +And leave this world of care. + +- - - + + +1. Written in 1870. + + +*** + + + +THE DANGER OF LYING IN BED + + + +The man in the ticket-office said: + +"Have an accident insurance ticket, also?" + +"No," I said, after studying the matter over a little. "No, I +believe not; I am going to be traveling by rail all day today. +However, tomorrow I don't travel. Give me one for tomorrow." + +The man looked puzzled. He said: + +"But it is for accident insurance, and if you are going to travel +by rail--" + +"If I am going to travel by rail I sha'n't need it. Lying at home +in bed is the thing _I_ am afraid of." + +I had been looking into this matter. Last year I traveled twenty +thousand miles, almost entirely by rail; the year before, I traveled +over twenty-five thousand miles, half by sea and half by rail; +and the year before that I traveled in the neighborhood of ten +thousand miles, exclusively by rail. I suppose if I put in all +the little odd journeys here and there, I may say I have traveled +sixty thousand miles during the three years I have mentioned. +AND NEVER AN ACCIDENT. + +For a good while I said to myself every morning: "Now I +have escaped thus far, and so the chances are just that much +increased that I shall catch it this time. I will be shrewd, +and buy an accident ticket." And to a dead moral certainty I +drew a blank, and went to bed that night without a joint started +or a bone splintered. I got tired of that sort of daily bother, +and fell to buying accident tickets that were good for a month. +I said to myself, "A man CAN'T buy thirty blanks in one bundle." + +But I was mistaken. There was never a prize in the the lot. +I could read of railway accidents every day--the newspaper +atmosphere was foggy with them; but somehow they never came my way. +I found I had spent a good deal of money in the accident business, +and had nothing to show for it. My suspicions were aroused, and I +began to hunt around for somebody that had won in this lottery. +I found plenty of people who had invested, but not an individual +that had ever had an accident or made a cent. I stopped buying +accident tickets and went to ciphering. The result was astounding. +THE PERIL LAY NOT IN TRAVELING, BUT IN STAYING AT HOME. + +I hunted up statistics, and was amazed to find that after all +the glaring newspaper headlines concerning railroad disasters, +less than THREE HUNDRED people had really lost their lives by those +disasters in the preceding twelve months. The Erie road was set +down as the most murderous in the list. It had killed forty-six-- +or twenty-six, I do not exactly remember which, but I know the +number was double that of any other road. But the fact straightway +suggested itself that the Erie was an immensely long road, and did +more business than any other line in the country; so the double +number of killed ceased to be matter for surprise. + +By further figuring, it appeared that between New York and Rochester +the Erie ran eight passenger-trains each way every day--16 altogether; +and carried a daily average of 6,000 persons. That is about a million +in six months--the population of New York City. Well, the Erie kills +from 13 to 23 persons of ITS million in six months; and in the same +time 13,000 of New York's million die in their beds! My flesh crept, +my hair stood on end. "This is appalling!" I said. "The danger +isn't in traveling by rail, but in trusting to those deadly beds. +I will never sleep in a bed again." + +I had figured on considerably less than one-half the length of +the Erie road. It was plain that the entire road must transport +at least eleven or twelve thousand people every day. There are +many short roads running out of Boston that do fully half as much; +a great many such roads. There are many roads scattered about the +Union that do a prodigious passenger business. Therefore it was fair +to presume that an average of 2,500 passengers a day for each road +in the country would be almost correct. There are 846 railway +lines in our country, and 846 times 2,500 are 2,115,000. So the +railways of America move more than two millions of people every day; +six hundred and fifty millions of people a year, without counting +the Sundays. They do that, too--there is no question about it; +though where they get the raw material is clear beyond the jurisdiction +of my arithmetic; for I have hunted the census through and through, +and I find that there are not that many people in the United States, +by a matter of six hundred and ten millions at the very least. +They must use some of the same people over again, likely. + +San Francisco is one-eighth as populous as New York; there are 60 +deaths a week in the former and 500 a week in the latter--if they +have luck. That is 3,120 deaths a year in San Francisco, and eight +times as many in New York--say about 25,000 or 26,000. The health +of the two places is the same. So we will let it stand as a fair +presumption that this will hold good all over the country, and that +consequently 25,000 out of every million of people we have must die +every year. That amounts to one-fortieth of our total population. +One million of us, then, die annually. Out of this million ten +or twelve thousand are stabbed, shot, drowned, hanged, poisoned, +or meet a similarly violent death in some other popular way, +such as perishing by kerosene-lamp and hoop-skirt conflagrations, +getting buried in coal-mines, falling off house-tops, breaking +through church, or lecture-room floors, taking patent medicines, +or committing suicide in other forms. The Erie railroad kills 23 to 46; +the other 845 railroads kill an average of one-third of a man each; +and the rest of that million, amounting in the aggregate to that +appalling figure of 987,631 corpses, die naturally in their beds! + +You will excuse me from taking any more chances on those beds. +The railroads are good enough for me. + +And my advice to all people is, Don't stay at home any more than +you can help; but when you have GOT to stay at home a while, +buy a package of those insurance tickets and sit up nights. +You cannot be too cautious. + +[One can see now why I answered that ticket-agent in the manner +recorded at the top of this sketch.] + +The moral of this composition is, that thoughtless people grumble +more than is fair about railroad management in the United States. +When we consider that every day and night of the year full fourteen +thousand railway-trains of various kinds, freighted with life +and armed with death, go thundering over the land, the marvel is, +NOT that they kill three hundred human beings in a twelvemonth, +but that they do not kill three hundred times three hundred! + + +*** + + + +PORTRAIT OF KING WILLIAM III + + + +I never can look at those periodical portraits in THE GALAXY magazine +without feeling a wild, tempestuous ambition to be an artist. +I have seen thousands and thousands of pictures in my time-- +acres of them here and leagues of them in the galleries of Europe-- +but never any that moved me as these portraits do. + +There is a portrait of Monsignore Capel in the November number, +now COULD anything be sweeter than that? And there was Bismarck's, +in the October number; who can look at that without being purer +and stronger and nobler for it? And Thurlow and Weed's picture +in the September number; I would not have died without seeing that, +no, not for anything this world can give. But look back still +further and recall my own likeness as printed in the August number; +if I had been in my grave a thousand years when that appeared, +I would have got up and visited the artist. + +I sleep with all these portraits under my pillow every night, so that I +can go on studying them as soon as the day dawns in the morning. +I know them all as thoroughly as if I had made them myself; I know +every line and mark about them. Sometimes when company are present +I shuffle the portraits all up together, and then pick them out +one by one and call their names, without referring to the printing +on the bottom. I seldom make a mistake--never, when I am calm. + +I have had the portraits framed for a long time, waiting till +my aunt gets everything ready for hanging them up in the parlor. +But first one thing and then another interferes, and so the thing +is delayed. Once she said they would have more of the peculiar kind +of light they needed in the attic. The old simpleton! it is as dark +as a tomb up there. But she does not know anything about art, +and so she has no reverence for it. When I showed her my "Map of +the Fortifications of Paris," she said it was rubbish. + +Well, from nursing those portraits so long, I have come at last +to have a perfect infatuation for art. I have a teacher now, +and my enthusiasm continually and tumultuously grows, as I learn +to use with more and more facility the pencil, brush, and graver. +I am studying under De Mellville, the house and portrait painter. +[His name was Smith when he lived in the West.] He does any kind +of artist work a body wants, having a genius that is universal, +like Michael Angelo. Resembles that great artist, in fact. +The back of his head is like this, and he wears his hat-brim tilted +down on his nose to expose it. + +I have been studying under De Mellville several months now. +The first month I painted fences, and gave general satisfaction. +The next month I white-washed a barn. The third, I was doing +tin roofs; the forth, common signs; the fifth, statuary to stand +before cigar shops. This present month is only the sixth, and I am +already in portraits! + +The humble offering which accompanies these remarks [see figure]-- +the portrait of his Majesty William III., King of Prussia-- +is my fifth attempt in portraits, and my greatest success. +It has received unbounded praise from all classes of the community, +but that which gratifies me most is the frequent and cordial verdict +that it resembles the GALAXY portraits. Those were my first love, +my earliest admiration, the original source and incentive of my +art-ambition. Whatever I am in Art today, I owe to these portraits. +I ask no credit for myself--I deserve none. And I never take any, +either. Many a stranger has come to my exhibition (for I have had my +portrait of King William on exhibition at one dollar a ticket), and +would have gone away blessing ME, if I had let him, but I never did. +I always stated where I got the idea. + +King William wears large bushy side-whiskers, and some critics have +thought that this portrait would be more complete if they were added. +But it was not possible. There was not room for side-whiskers and +epaulets both, and so I let the whiskers go, and put in the epaulets, +for the sake of style. That thing on his hat is an eagle. +The Prussian eagle--it is a national emblem. When I say hat I +mean helmet; but it seems impossible to make a picture of a helmet +that a body can have confidence in. + +I wish kind friends everywhere would aid me in my endeavor to attract +a little attention to the GALAXY portraits. I feel persuaded it can +be accomplished, if the course to be pursued be chosen with judgment. +I write for that magazine all the time, and so do many abler men, +and if I can get these portraits into universal favor, it is all I ask; +the reading-matter will take care of itself. + + +COMMENDATIONS OF THE PORTRAIT + + +There is nothing like it in the Vatican. Pius IX. + + +It has none of that vagueness, that dreamy spirituality about it, +which many of the first critics of Arkansas have objected to in the +Murillo school of Art. Ruskin. + + +The expression is very interesting. J.W. Titian. + + +(Keeps a macaroni store in Venice, at the old family stand.) + + +It is the neatest thing in still life I have seen for years. + +Rosa Bonheur. + + +The smile may be almost called unique. Bismarck. + + +I never saw such character portrayed in a picture face before. +De Mellville. + + +There is a benignant simplicity about the execution of this +work which warms the heart toward it as much, full as much, +as it fascinates the eye. Landseer. + + +One cannot see it without longing to contemplate the artist. + +Frederick William. + + +Send me the entire edition--together with the plate and the +original portrait--and name your own price. And--would you +like to come over and stay awhile with Napoleon at Wilhelmsh:ohe? +It shall not cost you a cent. William III. + + +*** + + + +DOES THE RACE OF MAN LOVE A LORD? + + + +Often a quite assified remark becomes sanctified by use and +petrified by custom; it is then a permanency, its term of activity +a geologic period. + + + +The day after the arrival of Prince Henry I met an English friend, +and he rubbed his hands and broke out with a remark that was charged +to the brim with joy--joy that was evidently a pleasant salve +to an old sore place: + +"Many a time I've had to listen without retort to an old saying +that is irritatingly true, and until now seemed to offer no chance +for a return jibe: 'An Englishman does dearly love a lord'; +but after this I shall talk back, and say, 'How about the Americans?'" + +It is a curious thing, the currency that an idiotic saying can get. +The man that first says it thinks he has made a discovery. +The man he says it to, thinks the same. It departs on its travels, +is received everywhere with admiring acceptance, and not only as +a piece of rare and acute observation, but as being exhaustively +true and profoundly wise; and so it presently takes its place +in the world's list of recognized and established wisdoms, +and after that no one thinks of examining it to see whether it is +really entitled to its high honors or not. I call to mind instances +of this in two well-established proverbs, whose dullness is not +surpassed by the one about the Englishman and his love for a lord: +one of them records the American's Adoration of the Almighty Dollar, +the other the American millionaire-girl's ambition to trade cash for +a title, with a husband thrown in. + +It isn't merely the American that adores the Almighty Dollar, +it is the human race. The human race has always adored the hatful +of shells, or the bale of calico, or the half-bushel of brass rings, +or the handful of steel fish-hooks, or the houseful of black wives, +or the zareba full of cattle, or the two-score camels and asses, +or the factory, or the farm, or the block of buildings, or the +railroad bonds, or the bank stock, or the hoarded cash, or-- +anything that stands for wealth and consideration and independence, +and can secure to the possessor that most precious of all things, +another man's envy. It was a dull person that invented the idea +that the American's devotion to the dollar is more strenuous than +another's. + +Rich American girls do buy titles, but they did not invent that idea; +it had been worn threadbare several hundred centuries before America +was discovered. European girls still exploit it as briskly as ever; +and, when a title is not to be had for the money in hand, they buy +the husband without it. They must put up the "dot," or there is +no trade. The commercialization of brides is substantially universal, +except in America. It exists with us, to some little extent, +but in no degree approaching a custom. + +"The Englishman dearly loves a lord." + +What is the soul and source of this love? I think the thing could +be more correctly worded: + +"The human race dearly envies a lord." + +That is to say, it envies the lord's place. Why? On two accounts, +I think: its Power and its Conspicuousness. + +Where Conspicuousness carries with it a Power which, by the light +of our own observation and experience, we are able to measure +and comprehend, I think our envy of the possessor is as deep and as +passionate as is that of any other nation. No one can care less +for a lord than the backwoodsman, who has had no personal contact +with lords and has seldom heard them spoken of; but I will not +allow that any Englishman has a profounder envy of a lord than has +the average American who has lived long years in a European capital +and fully learned how immense is the position the lord occupies. + +Of any ten thousand Americans who eagerly gather, at vast inconvenience, +to get a glimpse of Prince Henry, all but a couple of hundred +will be there out of an immense curiosity; they are burning up +with desire to see a personage who is so much talked about. +They envy him; but it is Conspicuousness they envy mainly, not the +Power that is lodged in his royal quality and position, for they +have but a vague and spectral knowledge and appreciation of that; +though their environment and associations they have been accustomed +to regard such things lightly, and as not being very real; consequently, +they are not able to value them enough to consumingly envy them. + +But, whenever an American (or other human being) is in the presence, +for the first time, of a combination of great Power and Conspicuousness +which he thoroughly understands and appreciates, his eager curiosity +and pleasure will be well-sodden with that other passion--envy-- +whether he suspects it or not. At any time, on any day, in any part +of America, you can confer a happiness upon any passing stranger +by calling his attention to any other passing stranger and saying: + +"Do you see that gentleman going along there? It is Mr. Rockefeller." + +Watch his eye. It is a combination of power and conspicuousness +which the man understands. + +When we understand rank, we always like to rub against it. +When a man is conspicuous, we always want to see him. Also, if he +will pay us an attention we will manage to remember it. Also, we +will mention it now and then, casually; sometimes to a friend, +or if a friend is not handy, we will make out with a stranger. + +Well, then, what is rank, and what is conspicuousness? At once we +think of kings and aristocracies, and of world-wide celebrities +in soldierships, the arts, letters, etc., and we stop there. +But that is a mistake. Rank holds its court and receives its homage +on every round of the ladder, from the emperor down to the rat-catcher; +and distinction, also, exists on every round of the ladder, +and commands its due of deference and envy. + +To worship rank and distinction is the dear and valued privilege +of all the human race, and it is freely and joyfully exercised +in democracies as well as in monarchies--and even, to some extent, +among those creatures whom we impertinently call the Lower Animals. +For even they have some poor little vanities and foibles, though in +this matter they are paupers as compared to us. + +A Chinese Emperor has the worship of his four hundred millions +of subjects, but the rest of the world is indifferent to him. +A Christian Emperor has the worship of his subjects and of a large +part of the Christian world outside of his domains; but he is +a matter of indifference to all China. A king, class A, has an +extensive worship; a king, class B, has a less extensive worship; +class C, class D, class E get a steadily diminishing share of worship; +class L (Sultan of Zanzibar), class P (Sultan of Sulu), and class W +(half-king of Samoa), get no worship at all outside their own little +patch of sovereignty. + +Take the distinguished people along down. Each has his group +of homage-payers. In the navy, there are many groups; they start +with the Secretary and the Admiral, and go down to the quartermaster-- +and below; for there will be groups among the sailors, and each of +these groups will have a tar who is distinguished for his battles, +or his strength, or his daring, or his profanity, and is admired +and envied by his group. The same with the army; the same +with the literary and journalistic craft; the publishing craft; +the cod-fishery craft; Standard Oil; U. S. Steel; the class A hotel-- +and the rest of the alphabet in that line; the class A prize-fighter-- +and the rest of the alphabet in his line--clear down to the lowest +and obscurest six-boy gang of little gamins, with its one boy +that can thrash the rest, and to whom he is king of Samoa, +bottom of the royal race, but looked up to with a most ardent +admiration and envy. + +There is something pathetic, and funny, and pretty, about this +human race's fondness for contact with power and distinction, +and for the reflected glory it gets out of it. The king, class A, +is happy in the state banquet and the military show which the +emperor provides for him, and he goes home and gathers the queen +and the princelings around him in the privacy of the spare room, +and tells them all about it, and says: + +"His Imperial Majesty put his hand upon my shoulder in the most +friendly way--just as friendly and familiar, oh, you can't imagine it!-- +and everybody SEEING him do it; charming, perfectly charming!" + +The king, class G, is happy in the cold collation and the police +parade provided for him by the king, class B, and goes home +and tells the family all about it, and says: + +"And His Majesty took me into his own private cabinet for a smoke +and a chat, and there we sat just as sociable, and talking away +and laughing and chatting, just the same as if we had been born +in the same bunk; and all the servants in the anteroom could see +us doing it! Oh, it was too lovely for anything!" + +The king, class Q, is happy in the modest entertainment furnished him +by the king, class M, and goes home and tells the household about it, +and is as grateful and joyful over it as were his predecessors +in the gaudier attentions that had fallen to their larger lot. + +Emperors, kings, artisans, peasants, big people, little people--at the +bottom we are all alike and all the same; all just alike on the inside, +and when our clothes are off, nobody can tell which of us is which. +We are unanimous in the pride we take in good and genuine compliments +paid us, and distinctions conferred upon us, in attentions shown. +There is not one of us, from the emperor down, but is made like that. +Do I mean attentions shown us by the guest? No, I mean simply +flattering attentions, let them come whence they may. We despise +no source that can pay us a pleasing attention--there is no source +that is humble enough for that. You have heard a dear little girl +say to a frowzy and disreputable dog: "He came right to me and let +me pat him on the head, and he wouldn't let the others touch him!" +and you have seen her eyes dance with pride in that high distinction. +You have often seen that. If the child were a princess, would that +random dog be able to confer the like glory upon her with his +pretty compliment? Yes; and even in her mature life and seated +upon a throne, she would still remember it, still recall it, +still speak of it with frank satisfaction. That charming and +lovable German princess and poet, Carmen Sylva, Queen of Roumania, +remembers yet that the flowers of the woods and fields "talked to her" +when she was a girl, and she sets it down in her latest book; +and that the squirrels conferred upon her and her father the valued +compliment of not being afraid of them; and "once one of them, +holding a nut between its sharp little teeth, ran right up against +my father"--it has the very note of "He came right to me and let +me pat him on the head"--"and when it saw itself reflected in his +boot it was very much surprised, and stopped for a long time to +contemplate itself in the polished leather"--then it went its way. +And the birds! she still remembers with pride that "they came +boldly into my room," when she had neglected her "duty" and put +no food on the window-sill for them; she knew all the wild birds, +and forgets the royal crown on her head to remember with pride +that they knew her; also that the wasp and the bee were personal +friends of hers, and never forgot that gracious relationship +to her injury: "never have I been stung by a wasp or a bee." +And here is that proud note again that sings in that little child's +elation in being singled out, among all the company of children, +for the random dog's honor-conferring attentions. "Even in the very +worst summer for wasps, when, in lunching out of doors, our table +was covered with them and every one else was stung, they never +hurt me." + +When a queen whose qualities of mind and heart and character are +able to add distinction to so distinguished a place as a throne, +remembers with grateful exultation, after thirty years, honors and +distinctions conferred upon her by the humble, wild creatures of +the forest, we are helped to realize that complimentary attentions, +homage, distinctions, are of no caste, but are above all cast-- +that they are a nobility-conferring power apart. + +We all like these things. When the gate-guard at the railway-station +passes me through unchallenged and examines other people's tickets, +I feel as the king, class A, felt when the emperor put the imperial +hand on his shoulder, "everybody seeing him do it"; and as the child +felt when the random dog allowed her to pat his head and ostracized +the others; and as the princess felt when the wasps spared her +and stung the rest; and I felt just so, four years ago in Vienna +(and remember it yet), when the helmeted police shut me off, +with fifty others, from a street which the Emperor was to pass through, +and the captain of the squad turned and saw the situation and said +indignantly to that guard: + +"Can't you see it is the Herr Mark Twain? Let him through!" + +It was four years ago; but it will be four hundred before I forget +the wind of self-complacency that rose in me, and strained my +buttons when I marked the deference for me evoked in the faces of my +fellow-rabble, and noted, mingled with it, a puzzled and resentful +expression which said, as plainly as speech could have worded it: +"And who in the nation is the Herr Mark Twain UM GOTTESWILLEN?" + +How many times in your life have you heard this boastful remark: + +"I stood as close to him as I am to you; I could have put out my +hand and touched him." + +We have all heard it many and many a time. It was a proud +distinction to be able to say those words. It brought envy to +the speaker, a kind of glory; and he basked in it and was happy +through all his veins. And who was it he stood so close to? +The answer would cover all the grades. Sometimes it was a king; +sometimes it was a renowned highwayman; sometimes it was an unknown +man killed in an extraordinary way and made suddenly famous by it; +always it was a person who was for the moment the subject of public +interest of a village. + +"I was there, and I saw it myself." That is a common and +envy-compelling remark. It can refer to a battle; to a handing; +to a coronation; to the killing of Jumbo by the railway-train; +to the arrival of Jenny Lind at the Battery; to the meeting of the +President and Prince Henry; to the chase of a murderous maniac; +to the disaster in the tunnel; to the explosion in the subway; +to a remarkable dog-fight; to a village church struck by lightning. +It will be said, more or less causally, by everybody in America who has +seen Prince Henry do anything, or try to. The man who was absent +and didn't see him to anything, will scoff. It is his privilege; +and he can make capital out of it, too; he will seem, even to himself, +to be different from other Americans, and better. As his opinion +of his superior Americanism grows, and swells, and concentrates +and coagulates, he will go further and try to belittle the distinction +of those that saw the Prince do things, and will spoil their pleasure +in it if he can. My life has been embittered by that kind of person. +If you are able to tell of a special distinction that has fallen +to your lot, it gravels them; they cannot bear it; and they try +to make believe that the thing you took for a special distinction +was nothing of the kind and was meant in quite another way. +Once I was received in private audience by an emperor. Last week +I was telling a jealous person about it, and I could see him wince +under it, see him bite, see him suffer. I revealed the whole episode +to him with considerable elaboration and nice attention to detail. +When I was through, he asked me what had impressed me most. +I said: + +"His Majesty's delicacy. They told me to be sure and back +out from the presence, and find the door-knob as best I could; +it was not allowable to face around. Now the Emperor knew it would +be a difficult ordeal for me, because of lack of practice; and so, +when it was time to part, he turned, with exceeding delicacy, +and pretended to fumble with things on his desk, so I could get +out in my own way, without his seeing me." + +It went home! It was vitriol! I saw the envy and disgruntlement rise +in the man's face; he couldn't keep it down. I saw him try to fix +up something in his mind to take the bloom off that distinction. +I enjoyed that, for I judged that he had his work cut out for him. +He struggled along inwardly for quite a while; then he said, +with a manner of a person who has to say something and hasn't anything +relevant to say: + +"You said he had a handful of special-brand cigars on the table?" + +"Yes; _I_ never saw anything to match them." + +I had him again. He had to fumble around in his mind as much +as another minute before he could play; then he said in as mean +a way as I ever heard a person say anything: + +"He could have been counting the cigars, you know." + +I cannot endure a man like that. It is nothing to him how unkind +he is, so long as he takes the bloom off. It is all he cares for. + +"An Englishman (or other human being) does dearly love a lord," +(or other conspicuous person.) It includes us all. We love to be +noticed by the conspicuous person; we love to be associated with such, +or with a conspicuous event, even in a seventh-rate fashion, +even in the forty-seventh, if we cannot do better. This accounts +for some of our curious tastes in mementos. It accounts for the large +private trade in the Prince of Wales's hair, which chambermaids +were able to drive in that article of commerce when the Prince made +the tour of the world in the long ago--hair which probably did +not always come from his brush, since enough of it was marketed +to refurnish a bald comet; it accounts for the fact that the rope +which lynches a negro in the presence of ten thousand Christian +spectators is salable five minutes later at two dollars and inch; +it accounts for the mournful fact that a royal personage does not +venture to wear buttons on his coat in public. + +We do love a lord--and by that term I mean any person whose situation +is higher than our own. The lord of the group, for instance: +a group of peers, a group of millionaires, a group of hoodlums, +a group of sailors, a group of newsboys, a group of saloon politicians, +a group of college girls. No royal person has ever been the object +of a more delirious loyalty and slavish adoration than is paid +by the vast Tammany herd to its squalid idol in Wantage. There is +not a bifurcated animal in that menagerie that would not be proud +to appear in a newspaper picture in his company. At the same time, +there are some in that organization who would scoff at the people +who have been daily pictured in company with Prince Henry, and would +say vigorously that THEY would not consent to be photographed +with him--a statement which would not be true in any instance. +There are hundreds of people in America who would frankly say to you +that they would not be proud to be photographed in a group with +the Prince, if invited; and some of these unthinking people would +believe it when they said it; yet in no instance would it be true. +We have a large population, but we have not a large enough one, +by several millions, to furnish that man. He has not yet been begotten, +and in fact he is not begettable. + +You may take any of the printed groups, and there isn't a person +in the dim background who isn't visibly trying to be vivid; if it +is a crowd of ten thousand--ten thousand proud, untamed democrats, +horny-handed sons of toil and of politics, and fliers of the eagle-- +there isn't one who is trying to keep out of range, there isn't one +who isn't plainly meditating a purchase of the paper in the morning, +with the intention of hunting himself out in the picture and of framing +and keeping it if he shall find so much of his person in it as his +starboard ear. + +We all love to get some of the drippings of Conspicuousness, and we +will put up with a single, humble drip, if we can't get any more. +We may pretend otherwise, in conversation; but we can't pretend +it to ourselves privately--and we don't. We do confess in public +that we are the noblest work of God, being moved to it by long habit, +and teaching, and superstition; but deep down in the secret places +of our souls we recognize that, if we ARE the noblest work, the less +said about it the better. + +We of the North poke fun at the South for its fondness of titles-- +a fondness for titles pure and simple, regardless of whether they +are genuine or pinchbeck. We forget that whatever a Southerner +likes the rest of the human race likes, and that there is no law of +predilection lodged in one people that is absent from another people. +There is no variety in the human race. We are all children, +all children of the one Adam, and we love toys. We can soon acquire +that Southern disease if some one will give it a start. It already +has a start, in fact. I have been personally acquainted with over +eighty-four thousand persons who, at one time or another in their lives, +have served for a year or two on the staffs of our multitudinous +governors, and through that fatality have been generals temporarily, +and colonels temporarily, and judge-advocates temporarily; but I +have known only nine among them who could be hired to let the title +go when it ceased to be legitimate. I know thousands and thousands +of governors who ceased to be governors away back in the last century; +but I am acquainted with only three who would answer your letter +if you failed to call them "Governor" in it. I know acres and acres +of men who have done time in a legislature in prehistoric days, +but among them is not half an acre whose resentment you would not +raise if you addressed them as "Mr." instead of "Hon." The first thing +a legislature does is to convene in an impressive legislative attitude, +and get itself photographed. Each member frames his copy and takes +it to the woods and hangs it up in the most aggressively conspicuous +place in his house; and if you visit the house and fail to inquire +what that accumulation is, the conversation will be brought around +to it by that aforetime legislator, and he will show you a figure +in it which in the course of years he has almost obliterated +with the smut of his finger-marks, and say with a solemn joy, "It's me!" + +Have you ever seen a country Congressman enter the hotel breakfast-room +in Washington with his letters?--and sit at his table and let on +to read them?--and wrinkle his brows and frown statesman-like?-- +keeping a furtive watch-out over his glasses all the while to see +if he is being observed and admired?--those same old letters +which he fetches in every morning? Have you seen it? Have you +seen him show off? It is THE sight of the national capital. +Except one; a pathetic one. That is the ex-Congressman: the poor +fellow whose life has been ruined by a two-year taste of glory +and of fictitious consequence; who has been superseded, and ought +to take his heartbreak home and hide it, but cannot tear himself +away from the scene of his lost little grandeur; and so he lingers, +and still lingers, year after year, unconsidered, sometimes snubbed, +ashamed of his fallen estate, and valiantly trying to look otherwise; +dreary and depressed, but counterfeiting breeziness and gaiety, +hailing with chummy familiarity, which is not always welcomed, +the more-fortunes who are still in place and were once his mates. +Have you seen him? He clings piteously to the one little shred that +is left of his departed distinction--the "privilege of the floor"; +and works it hard and gets what he can out of it. That is the saddest +figure I know of. + +Yes, we do so love our little distinctions! And then we loftily +scoff at a Prince for enjoying his larger ones; forgetting that if we +only had his chance--ah! "Senator" is not a legitimate title. +A Senator has no more right to be addressed by it than have you +or I; but, in the several state capitals and in Washington, +there are five thousand Senators who take very kindly to +that fiction, and who purr gratefully when you call them by it-- +which you may do quite unrebuked. Then those same Senators smile +at the self-constructed majors and generals and judges of the South! + +Indeed, we do love our distinctions, get them how we may. +And we work them for all they are worth. In prayer we call +ourselves "worms of the dust," but it is only on a sort of tacit +understanding that the remark shall not be taken at par. WE-- +worms of the dust! Oh, no, we are not that. Except in fact; +and we do not deal much in fact when we are contemplating ourselves. + +As a race, we do certainly love a lord--let him be Croker, or a duke, +or a prize-fighter, or whatever other personage shall chance to be the +head of our group. Many years ago, I saw a greasy youth in overalls +standing by the HERALD office, with an expectant look in his face. +Soon a large man passed out, and gave him a pat on the shoulder. +That was what the boy was waiting for--the large man's notice. +The pat made him proud and happy, and the exultation inside of him +shone out through his eyes; and his mates were there to see the pat +and envy it and wish they could have that glory. The boy belonged +down cellar in the press-room, the large man was king of the +upper floors, foreman of the composing-room. The light in the boy's +face was worship, the foreman was his lord, head of his group. +The pat was an accolade. It was as precious to the boy as it would +have been if he had been an aristocrat's son and the accolade had +been delivered by his sovereign with a sword. The quintessence +of the honor was all there; there was no difference in values; +in truth there was no difference present except an artificial one-- +clothes. + +All the human race loves a lord--that is, loves to look upon +or be noticed by the possessor of Power or Conspicuousness; +and sometimes animals, born to better things and higher ideals, +descend to man's level in this matter. In the Jardin des Plantes +I have see a cat that was so vain of being the personal friend +of an elephant that I was ashamed of her. + + +*** + + + +EXTRACTS FROM ADAM'S DIARY + + + +MONDAY.--This new creature with the long hair is a good deal +in the way. It is always hanging around and following me about. +I don't like this; I am not used to company. I wish it would stay +with the other animals. . . . Cloudy today, wind in the east; +think we shall have rain. . . . WE? Where did I get that word-- +the new creature uses it. + +TUESDAY.--Been examining the great waterfall. It is the finest thing +on the estate, I think. The new creature calls it Niagara Falls-- +why, I am sure I do not know. Says it LOOKS like Niagara Falls. +That is not a reason, it is mere waywardness and imbecility. +I get no chance to name anything myself. The new creature names +everything that comes along, before I can get in a protest. +And always that same pretext is offered--it LOOKS like the thing. +There is a dodo, for instance. Says the moment one looks at it +one sees at a glance that it "looks like a dodo." It will have to +keep that name, no doubt. It wearies me to fret about it, and it +does no good, anyway. Dodo! It looks no more like a dodo than +I do. + +WEDNESDAY.--Built me a shelter against the rain, but could not +have it to myself in peace. The new creature intruded. When I +tried to put it out it shed water out of the holes it looks with, +and wiped it away with the back of its paws, and made a noise +such as some of the other animals make when they are in distress. +I wish it would not talk; it is always talking. That sounds like a +cheap fling at the poor creature, a slur; but I do not mean it so. +I have never heard the human voice before, and any new and strange +sound intruding itself here upon the solemn hush of these dreaming +solitudes offends my ear and seems a false note. And this new sound +is so close to me; it is right at my shoulder, right at my ear, +first on one side and then on the other, and I am used only to sounds +that are more or less distant from me. + +FRIDAY. The naming goes recklessly on, in spite of anything I can do. +I had a very good name for the estate, and it was musical and pretty-- +GARDEN OF EDEN. Privately, I continue to call it that, but not any +longer publicly. The new creature says it is all woods and rocks +and scenery, and therefore has no resemblance to a garden. Says it +LOOKS like a park, and does not look like anything BUT a park. +Consequently, without consulting me, it has been new-named NIAGARA +FALLS PARK. This is sufficiently high-handed, it seems to me. +And already there is a sign up: + + +KEEP OFF + + +THE GRASS + + +My life is not as happy as it was. + +SATURDAY.--The new creature eats too much fruit. We are going +to run short, most likely. "We" again--that is ITS word; mine, too, +now, from hearing it so much. Good deal of fog this morning. +I do not go out in the fog myself. This new creature does. +It goes out in all weathers, and stumps right in with its muddy feet. +And talks. It used to be so pleasant and quiet here. + +SUNDAY.--Pulled through. This day is getting to be more and more trying. +It was selected and set apart last November as a day of rest. +I had already six of them per week before. This morning found +the new creature trying to clod apples out of that forbidden tree. + +MONDAY.--The new creature says its name is Eve. That is all right, +I have no objections. Says it is to call it by, when I want it +to come. I said it was superfluous, then. The word evidently +raised me in its respect; and indeed it is a large, good word +and will bear repetition. It says it is not an It, it is a She. +This is probably doubtful; yet it is all one to me; what she is were +nothing to me if she would but go by herself and not talk. + +TUESDAY.--She has littered the whole estate with execrable names +and offensive signs: + + +This way to the Whirlpool + + +This way to Goat Island + + +Cave of the Winds this way + + +She says this park would make a tidy summer resort if there was +any custom for it. Summer resort--another invention of hers-- +just words, without any meaning. What is a summer resort? +But it is best not to ask her, she has such a rage for explaining. + +FRIDAY.--She has taken to beseeching me to stop going over the Falls. +What harm does it do? Says it makes her shudder. I wonder why; +I have always done it--always liked the plunge, and coolness. +I supposed it was what the Falls were for. They have no other +use that I can see, and they must have been made for something. +She says they were only made for scenery--like the rhinoceros and +the mastodon. + +I went over the Falls in a barrel--not satisfactory to her. +Went over in a tub--still not satisfactory. Swam the Whirlpool and +the Rapids in a fig-leaf suit. It got much damaged. Hence, tedious +complaints about my extravagance. I am too much hampered here. +What I need is a change of scene. + +SATURDAY.--I escaped last Tuesday night, and traveled two days, +and built me another shelter in a secluded place, and obliterated my +tracks as well as I could, but she hunted me out by means of a beast +which she has tamed and calls a wolf, and came making that pitiful +noise again, and shedding that water out of the places she looks with. +I was obliged to return with her, but will presently emigrate again +when occasion offers. She engages herself in many foolish things; +among others; to study out why the animals called lions and tigers +live on grass and flowers, when, as she says, the sort of teeth they +wear would indicate that they were intended to eat each other. +This is foolish, because to do that would be to kill each other, +and that would introduce what, as I understand, is called "death"; +and death, as I have been told, has not yet entered the Park. +Which is a pity, on some accounts. + +SUNDAY.--Pulled through. + +MONDAY.--I believe I see what the week is for: it is to give time +to rest up from the weariness of Sunday. It seems a good idea. +. . . She has been climbing that tree again. Clodded her out of it. +She said nobody was looking. Seems to consider that a sufficient +justification for chancing any dangerous thing. Told her that. +The word justification moved her admiration--and envy, too, I thought. +It is a good word. + +TUESDAY.--She told me she was made out of a rib taken from my body. +This is at least doubtful, if not more than that. I have not +missed any rib. . . . She is in much trouble about the buzzard; +says grass does not agree with it; is afraid she can't raise it; +thinks it was intended to live on decayed flesh. The buzzard must +get along the best it can with what is provided. We cannot overturn +the whole scheme to accommodate the buzzard. + +SATURDAY.--She fell in the pond yesterday when she was looking at +herself in it, which she is always doing. She nearly strangled, +and said it was most uncomfortable. This made her sorry for the +creatures which live in there, which she calls fish, for she continues +to fasten names on to things that don't need them and don't come +when they are called by them, which is a matter of no consequence +to her, she is such a numbskull, anyway; so she got a lot of them out +and brought them in last night and put them in my bed to keep warm, +but I have noticed them now and then all day and I don't see that +they are any happier there then they were before, only quieter. +When night comes I shall throw them outdoors. I will not sleep +with them again, for I find them clammy and unpleasant to lie among +when a person hasn't anything on. + +SUNDAY.--Pulled through. + +TUESDAY.--She has taken up with a snake now. The other animals are glad, +for she was always experimenting with them and bothering them; +and I am glad because the snake talks, and this enables me to get +a rest. + +FRIDAY.--She says the snake advises her to try the fruit of the tree, +and says the result will be a great and fine and noble education. +I told her there would be another result, too--it would introduce +death into the world. That was a mistake--it had been better +to keep the remark to myself; it only gave her an idea--she could +save the sick buzzard, and furnish fresh meat to the despondent +lions and tigers. I advised her to keep away from the tree. +She said she wouldn't. I foresee trouble. Will emigrate. + +WEDNESDAY.--I have had a variegated time. I escaped last night, +and rode a horse all night as fast as he could go, hoping to get +clear of the Park and hide in some other country before the +trouble should begin; but it was not to be. About an hour after +sun-up, as I was riding through a flowery plain where thousands +of animals were grazing, slumbering, or playing with each other, +according to their wont, all of a sudden they broke into a tempest +of frightful noises, and in one moment the plain was a frantic commotion +and every beast was destroying its neighbor. I knew what it meant-- +Eve had eaten that fruit, and death was come into the world. +. . . The tigers ate my house, paying no attention when I ordered +them to desist, and they would have eaten me if I had stayed-- +which I didn't, but went away in much haste. . . . I found this place, +outside the Park, and was fairly comfortable for a few days, but she +has found me out. Found me out, and has named the place Tonawanda-- +says it LOOKS like that. In fact I was not sorry she came, +for there are but meager pickings here, and she brought some +of those apples. I was obliged to eat them, I was so hungry. +It was against my principles, but I find that principles have no +real force except when one is well fed. . . . She came curtained +in boughs and bunches of leaves, and when I asked her what she +meant by such nonsense, and snatched them away and threw them down, +she tittered and blushed. I had never seen a person titter +and blush before, and to me it seemed unbecoming and idiotic. +She said I would soon know how it was myself. This was correct. +Hungry as I was, I laid down the apple half-eaten--certainly the +best one I ever saw, considering the lateness of the season-- +and arrayed myself in the discarded boughs and branches, and then +spoke to her with some severity and ordered her to go and get some +more and not make a spectacle or herself. She did it, and after this +we crept down to where the wild-beast battle had been, and collected +some skins, and I made her patch together a couple of suits proper +for public occasions. They are uncomfortable, it is true, but stylish, +and that is the main point about clothes. . . . I find she is a +good deal of a companion. I see I should be lonesome and depressed +without her, now that I have lost my property. Another thing, +she says it is ordered that we work for our living hereafter. +She will be useful. I will superintend. + +TEN DAYS LATER.--She accuses ME of being the cause of our disaster! +She says, with apparent sincerity and truth, that the Serpent assured +her that the forbidden fruit was not apples, it was chestnuts. +I said I was innocent, then, for I had not eaten any chestnuts. +She said the Serpent informed her that "chestnut" was a figurative +term meaning an aged and moldy joke. I turned pale at that, +for I have made many jokes to pass the weary time, and some of them +could have been of that sort, though I had honestly supposed +that they were new when I made them. She asked me if I had made +one just at the time of the catastrophe. I was obliged to admit +that I had made one to myself, though not aloud. It was this. +I was thinking about the Falls, and I said to myself, "How wonderful +it is to see that vast body of water tumble down there!" +Then in an instant a bright thought flashed into my head, and I let +it fly, saying, "It would be a deal more wonderful to see it tumble +UP there!"--and I was just about to kill myself with laughing at +it when all nature broke loose in war and death and I had to flee +for my life. "There," she said, with triumph, "that is just it; +the Serpent mentioned that very jest, and called it the First Chestnut, +and said it was coeval with the creation." Alas, I am indeed +to blame. Would that I were not witty; oh, that I had never had +that radiant thought! + +NEXT YEAR.--We have named it Cain. She caught it while I was up country +trapping on the North Shore of the Erie; caught it in the timber a +couple of miles from our dug-out--or it might have been four, she isn't +certain which. It resembles us in some ways, and may be a relation. +That is what she thinks, but this is an error, in my judgment. +The difference in size warrants the conclusion that it is a different +and new kind of animal--a fish, perhaps, though when I put it in the +water to see, it sank, and she plunged in and snatched it out before +there was opportunity for the experiment to determine the matter. +I still think it is a fish, but she is indifferent about what it is, +and will not let me have it to try. I do not understand this. +The coming of the creature seems to have changed her whole nature +and made her unreasonable about experiments. She thinks more +of it than she does of any of the other animals, but is not able +to explain why. Her mind is disordered--everything shows it. +Sometimes she carries the fish in her arms half the night when it +complains and wants to get to the water. At such times the water +comes out of the places in her face that she looks out of, and she +pats the fish on the back and makes soft sounds with her mouth +to soothe it, and betrays sorrow and solicitude in a hundred ways. +I have never seen her do like this with any other fish, and it +troubles me greatly. She used to carry the young tigers around so, +and play with them, before we lost our property, but it was only play; +she never took on about them like this when their dinner disagreed +with them. + +SUNDAY.--She doesn't work, Sundays, but lies around all tired out, +and likes to have the fish wallow over her; and she makes fool +noises to amuse it, and pretends to chew its paws, and that makes +it laugh. I have not seen a fish before that could laugh. +This makes me doubt. . . . I have come to like Sunday myself. +Superintending all the week tires a body so. There ought to be +more Sundays. In the old days they were tough, but now they +come handy. + +WEDNESDAY.--It isn't a fish. I cannot quite make out what it is. +It makes curious devilish noises when not satisfied, and says "goo-goo" +when it is. It is not one of us, for it doesn't walk; it is not +a bird, for it doesn't fly; it is not a frog, for it doesn't hop; +it is not a snake, for it doesn't crawl; I feel sure it is not a fish, +though I cannot get a chance to find out whether it can swim or not. +It merely lies around, and mostly on its back, with its feet up. +I have not seen any other animal do that before. I said I believed it +was an enigma; but she only admired the word without understanding it. +In my judgment it is either an enigma or some kind of a bug. +If it dies, I will take it apart and see what its arrangements are. +I never had a thing perplex me so. + +THREE MONTHS LATER.--The perplexity augments instead of diminishing. +I sleep but little. It has ceased from lying around, and goes about on +its four legs now. Yet it differs from the other four legged animals, +in that its front legs are unusually short, consequently this +causes the main part of its person to stick up uncomfortably high +in the air, and this is not attractive. It is built much as we are, +but its method of traveling shows that it is not of our breed. +The short front legs and long hind ones indicate that it is a of +the kangaroo family, but it is a marked variation of that species, +since the true kangaroo hops, whereas this one never does. +Still it is a curious and interesting variety, and has not been +catalogued before. As I discovered it, I have felt justified +in securing the credit of the discovery by attaching my name to it, +and hence have called it KANGAROORUM ADAMIENSIS. . . . It must have +been a young one when it came, for it has grown exceedingly since. +It must be five times as big, now, as it was then, and when +discontented it is able to make from twenty-two to thirty-eight times +the noise it made at first. Coercion does not modify this, but has +the contrary effect. For this reason I discontinued the system. +She reconciles it by persuasion, and by giving it things which she +had previously told me she wouldn't give it. As already observed, +I was not at home when it first came, and she told me she found it +in the woods. It seems odd that it should be the only one, yet it +must be so, for I have worn myself out these many weeks trying to find +another one to add to my collection, and for this to play with; +for surely then it would be quieter and we could tame it more easily. +But I find none, nor any vestige of any; and strangest of all, +no tracks. It has to live on the ground, it cannot help itself; +therefore, how does it get about without leaving a track? +I have set a dozen traps, but they do no good. I catch all small +animals except that one; animals that merely go into the trap out +of curiosity, I think, to see what the milk is there for. They never +drink it. + +THREE MONTHS LATER.--The Kangaroo still continues to grow, which is +very strange and perplexing. I never knew one to be so long getting +its growth. It has fur on its head now; not like kangaroo fur, +but exactly like our hair except that it is much finer and softer, +and instead of being black is red. I am like to lose my mind over +the capricious and harassing developments of this unclassifiable +zoological freak. If I could catch another one--but that is hopeless; +it is a new variety, and the only sample; this is plain. But I +caught a true kangaroo and brought it in, thinking that this one, +being lonesome, would rather have that for company than have no kin +at all, or any animal it could feel a nearness to or get sympathy +from in its forlorn condition here among strangers who do not +know its ways or habits, or what to do to make it feel that it +is among friends; but it was a mistake--it went into such fits at +the sight of the kangaroo that I was convinced it had never seen +one before. I pity the poor noisy little animal, but there is +nothing I can do to make it happy. If I could tame it--but that is +out of the question; the more I try the worse I seem to make it. +It grieves me to the heart to see it in its little storms of sorrow +and passion. I wanted to let it go, but she wouldn't hear of it. +That seemed cruel and not like her; and yet she may be right. +It might be lonelier than ever; for since I cannot find another one, +how could IT? + +FIVE MONTHS LATER.--It is not a kangaroo. No, for it supports +itself by holding to her finger, and thus goes a few steps on its +hind legs, and then falls down. It is probably some kind of a bear; +and yet it has no tail--as yet--and no fur, except upon its head. +It still keeps on growing--that is a curious circumstance, +for bears get their growth earlier than this. Bears are dangerous-- +since our catastrophe--and I shall not be satisfied to have this +one prowling about the place much longer without a muzzle on. +I have offered to get her a kangaroo if she would let this one go, +but it did no good--she is determined to run us into all sorts +of foolish risks, I think. She was not like this before she lost +her mind. + +A FORTNIGHT LATER.--I examined its mouth. There is no danger yet: +it has only one tooth. It has no tail yet. It makes more noise +now than it ever did before--and mainly at night. I have moved out. +But I shall go over, mornings, to breakfast, and see if it has +more teeth. If it gets a mouthful of teeth it will be time for it +to go, tail or no tail, for a bear does not need a tail in order to +be dangerous. + +FOUR MONTHS LATER.--I have been off hunting and fishing a month, +up in the region that she calls Buffalo; I don't know why, unless it +is because there are not any buffaloes there. Meantime the bear +has learned to paddle around all by itself on its hind legs, +and says "poppa" and "momma." It is certainly a new species. +This resemblance to words may be purely accidental, of course, +and may have no purpose or meaning; but even in that case it is +still extraordinary, and is a thing which no other bear can do. +This imitation of speech, taken together with general absence of fur +and entire absence of tail, sufficiently indicates that this is a new +kind of bear. The further study of it will be exceedingly interesting. +Meantime I will go off on a far expedition among the forests of +the north and make an exhaustive search. There must certainly be +another one somewhere, and this one will be less dangerous when it +has company of its own species. I will go straightway; but I will +muzzle this one first. + +THREE MONTHS LATER.--It has been a weary, weary hunt, yet I have +had no success. In the mean time, without stirring from the +home estate, she has caught another one! I never saw such luck. +I might have hunted these woods a hundred years, I never would +have run across that thing. + +NEXT DAY.--I have been comparing the new one with the old one, +and it is perfectly plain that they are of the same breed. +I was going to stuff one of them for my collection, but she +is prejudiced against it for some reason or other; so I have +relinquished the idea, though I think it is a mistake. It would +be an irreparable loss to science if they should get away. +The old one is tamer than it was and can laugh and talk like a parrot, +having learned this, no doubt, from being with the parrot so much, +and having the imitative faculty in a high developed degree. +I shall be astonished if it turns out to be a new kind of parrot; +and yet I ought not to be astonished, for it has already been +everything else it could think of since those first days when it +was a fish. The new one is as ugly as the old one was at first; +has the same sulphur-and-raw-meat complexion and the same singular +head without any fur on it. She calls it Abel. + +TEN YEARS LATER.--They are BOYS; we found it out long ago. +It was their coming in that small immature shape that puzzled us; +we were not used to it. There are some girls now. Abel is a good boy, +but if Cain had stayed a bear it would have improved him. After all +these years, I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning; +it is better to live outside the Garden with her than inside it +without her. At first I thought she talked too much; but now I should +be sorry to have that voice fall silent and pass out of my life. +Blessed be the chestnut that brought us near together and taught me +to know the goodness of her heart and the sweetness of her spirit! + + +*** + + + +EVE'S DIARY + + +Translated from the Original + + + +SATURDAY.--I am almost a whole day old, now. I arrived yesterday. +That is as it seems to me. And it must be so, for if there was +a day-before-yesterday I was not there when it happened, or I +should remember it. It could be, of course, that it did happen, +and that I was not noticing. Very well; I will be very watchful now, +and if any day-before-yesterdays happen I will make a note of it. +It will be best to start right and not let the record get confused, +for some instinct tells me that these details are going to be +important to the historian some day. For I feel like an experiment, +I feel exactly like an experiment; it would be impossible for a person +to feel more like an experiment than I do, and so I am coming to feel +convinced that that is what I AM--an experiment; just an experiment, +and nothing more. + +Then if I am an experiment, am I the whole of it? No, I think not; +I think the rest of it is part of it. I am the main part of it, +but I think the rest of it has its share in the matter. Is my +position assured, or do I have to watch it and take care of it? +The latter, perhaps. Some instinct tells me that eternal vigilance +is the price of supremacy. [That is a good phrase, I think, for one +so young.] + +Everything looks better today than it did yesterday. In the rush of +finishing up yesterday, the mountains were left in a ragged condition, +and some of the plains were so cluttered with rubbish and remnants +that the aspects were quite distressing. Noble and beautiful works +of art should not be subjected to haste; and this majestic new world +is indeed a most noble and beautiful work. And certainly marvelously +near to being perfect, notwithstanding the shortness of the time. +There are too many stars in some places and not enough in others, +but that can be remedied presently, no doubt. The moon got +loose last night, and slid down and fell out of the scheme-- +a very great loss; it breaks my heart to think of it. There isn't +another thing among the ornaments and decorations that is comparable +to it for beauty and finish. It should have been fastened better. +If we can only get it back again-- + +But of course there is no telling where it went to. And besides, +whoever gets it will hide it; I know it because I would do it myself. +I believe I can be honest in all other matters, but I already +begin to realize that the core and center of my nature is love +of the beautiful, a passion for the beautiful, and that it would +not be safe to trust me with a moon that belonged to another person +and that person didn't know I had it. I could give up a moon that I +found in the daytime, because I should be afraid some one was looking; +but if I found it in the dark, I am sure I should find some kind +of an excuse for not saying anything about it. For I do love moons, +they are so pretty and so romantic. I wish we had five or six; +I would never go to bed; I should never get tired lying on the moss-bank +and looking up at them. + +Stars are good, too. I wish I could get some to put in my hair. +But I suppose I never can. You would be surprised to find how far +off they are, for they do not look it. When they first showed, +last night, I tried to knock some down with a pole, but it didn't reach, +which astonished me; then I tried clods till I was all tired out, +but I never got one. It was because I am left-handed and cannot +throw good. Even when I aimed at the one I wasn't after I +couldn't hit the other one, though I did make some close shots, +for I saw the black blot of the clod sail right into the midst of +the golden clusters forty or fifty times, just barely missing them, +and if I could have held out a little longer maybe I could have +got one. + +So I cried a little, which was natural, I suppose, for one of my age, +and after I was rested I got a basket and started for a place on the +extreme rim of the circle, where the stars were close to the ground +and I could get them with my hands, which would be better, anyway, +because I could gather them tenderly then, and not break them. +But it was farther than I thought, and at last I had go give it up; +I was so tired I couldn't drag my feet another step; and besides, +they were sore and hurt me very much. + +I couldn't get back home; it was too far and turning cold; +but I found some tigers and nestled in among them and was most +adorably comfortable, and their breath was sweet and pleasant, +because they live on strawberries. I had never seen a tiger before, +but I knew them in a minute by the stripes. If I could have one +of those skins, it would make a lovely gown. + +Today I am getting better ideas about distances. I was so eager +to get hold of every pretty thing that I giddily grabbed for it, +sometimes when it was too far off, and sometimes when it was but +six inches away but seemed a foot--alas, with thorns between! +I learned a lesson; also I made an axiom, all out of my own head-- +my very first one; THE SCRATCHED EXPERIMENT SHUNS THE THORN. +I think it is a very good one for one so young. + +I followed the other Experiment around, yesterday afternoon, +at a distance, to see what it might be for, if I could. But I was +not able to make out. I think it is a man. I had never seen a man, +but it looked like one, and I feel sure that that is what it is. +I realize that I feel more curiosity about it than about any +of the other reptiles. If it is a reptile, and I suppose it is; +for it has frowzy hair and blue eyes, and looks like a reptile. +It has no hips; it tapers like a carrot; when it stands, it spreads +itself apart like a derrick; so I think it is a reptile, though it may +be architecture. + +I was afraid of it at first, and started to run every time it +turned around, for I thought it was going to chase me; but by +and by I found it was only trying to get away, so after that I +was not timid any more, but tracked it along, several hours, +about twenty yards behind, which made it nervous and unhappy. +At last it was a good deal worried, and climbed a tree. I waited +a good while, then gave it up and went home. + +Today the same thing over. I've got it up the tree again. + +SUNDAY.--It is up there yet. Resting, apparently. But that is +a subterfuge: Sunday isn't the day of rest; Saturday is appointed +for that. It looks to me like a creature that is more interested +in resting than it anything else. It would tire me to rest so much. +It tires me just to sit around and watch the tree. I do wonder +what it is for; I never see it do anything. + +They returned the moon last night, and I was SO happy! I think +it is very honest of them. It slid down and fell off again, +but I was not distressed; there is no need to worry when one has +that kind of neighbors; they will fetch it back. I wish I could +do something to show my appreciation. I would like to send them +some stars, for we have more than we can use. I mean I, not we, +for I can see that the reptile cares nothing for such things. + +It has low tastes, and is not kind. When I went there yesterday +evening in the gloaming it had crept down and was trying to catch +the little speckled fishes that play in the pool, and I had +to clod it to make it go up the tree again and let them alone. +I wonder if THAT is what it is for? Hasn't it any heart? +Hasn't it any compassion for those little creature? Can it be +that it was designed and manufactured for such ungentle work? +It has the look of it. One of the clods took it back of the ear, +and it used language. It gave me a thrill, for it was the first time I +had ever heard speech, except my own. I did not understand the words, +but they seemed expressive. + +When I found it could talk I felt a new interest in it, for I +love to talk; I talk, all day, and in my sleep, too, and I am +very interesting, but if I had another to talk to I could be twice +as interesting, and would never stop, if desired. + +If this reptile is a man, it isn't an IT, is it? That wouldn't +be grammatical, would it? I think it would be HE. I think so. +In that case one would parse it thus: nominative, HE; dative, HIM; +possessive, HIS'N. Well, I will consider it a man and call it he +until it turns out to be something else. This will be handier +than having so many uncertainties. + +NEXT WEEK SUNDAY.--All the week I tagged around after him and tried +to get acquainted. I had to do the talking, because he was shy, +but I didn't mind it. He seemed pleased to have me around, and I +used the sociable "we" a good deal, because it seemed to flatter him +to be included. + +WEDNESDAY.--We are getting along very well indeed, now, and getting +better and better acquainted. He does not try to avoid me any more, +which is a good sign, and shows that he likes to have me with him. +That pleases me, and I study to be useful to him in every way I can, +so as to increase his regard. During the last day or two I +have taken all the work of naming things off his hands, and this +has been a great relief to him, for he has no gift in that line, +and is evidently very grateful. He can't think of a rational name +to save him, but I do not let him see that I am aware of his defect. +Whenever a new creature comes along I name it before he has time +to expose himself by an awkward silence. In this way I have +saved him many embarrassments. I have no defect like this. +The minute I set eyes on an animal I know what it is. I don't +have to reflect a moment; the right name comes out instantly, +just as if it were an inspiration, as no doubt it is, for I am +sure it wasn't in me half a minute before. I seem to know just +by the shape of the creature and the way it acts what animal +it is. + +When the dodo came along he thought it was a wildcat--I saw it +in his eye. But I saved him. And I was careful not to do it +in a way that could hurt his pride. I just spoke up in a quite +natural way of pleasing surprise, and not as if I was dreaming +of conveying information, and said, "Well, I do declare, if there +isn't the dodo!" I explained--without seeming to be explaining-- +how I know it for a dodo, and although I thought maybe he was +a little piqued that I knew the creature when he didn't, it was +quite evident that he admired me. That was very agreeable, and I +thought of it more than once with gratification before I slept. +How little a thing can make us happy when we feel that we have +earned it! + +THURSDAY.--my first sorrow. Yesterday he avoided me and seemed +to wish I would not talk to him. I could not believe it, +and thought there was some mistake, for I loved to be with him, +and loved to hear him talk, and so how could it be that he could +feel unkind toward me when I had not done anything? But at last it +seemed true, so I went away and sat lonely in the place where I first +saw him the morning that we were made and I did not know what he +was and was indifferent about him; but now it was a mournful place, +and every little think spoke of him, and my heart was very sore. +I did not know why very clearly, for it was a new feeling; I had +not experienced it before, and it was all a mystery, and I could +not make it out. + +But when night came I could not bear the lonesomeness, and went +to the new shelter which he has built, to ask him what I had done +that was wrong and how I could mend it and get back his kindness again; +but he put me out in the rain, and it was my first sorrow. + +SUNDAY.--It is pleasant again, now, and I am happy; but those were +heavy days; I do not think of them when I can help it. + +I tried to get him some of those apples, but I cannot learn to +throw straight. I failed, but I think the good intention pleased him. +They are forbidden, and he says I shall come to harm; but so I +come to harm through pleasing him, why shall I care for that harm? + +MONDAY.--This morning I told him my name, hoping it would interest him. +But he did not care for it. It is strange. If he should tell me +his name, I would care. I think it would be pleasanter in my ears +than any other sound. + +He talks very little. Perhaps it is because he is not bright, +and is sensitive about it and wishes to conceal it. It is +such a pity that he should feel so, for brightness is nothing; +it is in the heart that the values lie. I wish I could make him +understand that a loving good heart is riches, and riches enough, +and that without it intellect is poverty. + +Although he talks so little, he has quite a considerable +vocabulary. This morning he used a surprisingly good word. +He evidently recognized, himself, that it was a good one, for he +worked in in twice afterward, casually. It was good casual art, +still it showed that he possesses a certain quality of perception. +Without a doubt that seed can be made to grow, if cultivated. + +Where did he get that word? I do not think I have ever used it. + +No, he took no interest in my name. I tried to hide my disappointment, +but I suppose I did not succeed. I went away and sat on the +moss-bank with my feet in the water. It is where I go when I hunger +for companionship, some one to look at, some one to talk to. +It is not enough--that lovely white body painted there in the pool-- +but it is something, and something is better than utter loneliness. +It talks when I talk; it is sad when I am sad; it comforts me with +its sympathy; it says, "Do not be downhearted, you poor friendless girl; +I will be your friend." It IS a good friend to me, and my only one; +it is my sister. + +That first time that she forsook me! ah, I shall never forget that-- +never, never. My heart was lead in my body! I said, "She was all +I had, and now she is gone!" In my despair I said, "Break, my heart; +I cannot bear my life any more!" and hid my face in my hands, +and there was no solace for me. And when I took them away, +after a little, there she was again, white and shining and beautiful, +and I sprang into her arms! + +That was perfect happiness; I had known happiness before, but it was +not like this, which was ecstasy. I never doubted her afterward. +Sometimes she stayed away--maybe an hour, maybe almost the +whole day, but I waited and did not doubt; I said, "She is busy, +or she is gone on a journey, but she will come." And it was so: +she always did. At night she would not come if it was dark, for she +was a timid little thing; but if there was a moon she would come. +I am not afraid of the dark, but she is younger than I am; she was +born after I was. Many and many are the visits I have paid her; +she is my comfort and my refuge when my life is hard--and it is +mainly that. + +TUESDAY.--All the morning I was at work improving the estate; +and I purposely kept away from him in the hope that he would get +lonely and come. But he did not. + +At noon I stopped for the day and took my recreation by flitting all +about with the bees and the butterflies and reveling in the flowers, +those beautiful creatures that catch the smile of God out of the +sky and preserve it! I gathered them, and made them into wreaths +and garlands and clothed myself in them while I ate my luncheon-- +apples, of course; then I sat in the shade and wished and waited. +But he did not come. + +But no matter. Nothing would have come of it, for he does not +care for flowers. He called them rubbish, and cannot tell one +from another, and thinks it is superior to feel like that. He does +not care for me, he does not care for flowers, he does not care +for the painted sky at eventide--is there anything he does care for, +except building shacks to coop himself up in from the good clean rain, +and thumping the melons, and sampling the grapes, and fingering +the fruit on the trees, to see how those properties are coming along? + +I laid a dry stick on the ground and tried to bore a hole in it +with another one, in order to carry out a scheme that I had, +and soon I got an awful fright. A thin, transparent bluish film +rose out of the hole, and I dropped everything and ran! I thought +it was a spirit, and I WAS so frightened! But I looked back, and it +was not coming; so I leaned against a rock and rested and panted, +and let my limps go on trembling until they got steady again; +then I crept warily back, alert, watching, and ready to fly if there +was occasion; and when I was come near, I parted the branches +of a rose-bush and peeped through--wishing the man was about, +I was looking so cunning and pretty--but the sprite was gone. +I went there, and there was a pinch of delicate pink dust in the hole. +I put my finger in, to feel it, and said OUCH! and took it +out again. It was a cruel pain. I put my finger in my mouth; +and by standing first on one foot and then the other, and grunting, +I presently eased my misery; then I was full of interest, and began +to examine. + +I was curious to know what the pink dust was. Suddenly the name of it +occurred to me, though I had never heard of it before. It was FIRE! +I was as certain of it as a person could be of anything in the world. +So without hesitation I named it that--fire. + +I had created something that didn't exist before; I had added +a new thing to the world's uncountable properties; I realized this, +and was proud of my achievement, and was going to run and find him +and tell him about it, thinking to raise myself in his esteem-- +but I reflected, and did not do it. No--he would not care for it. +He would ask what it was good for, and what could I answer? for if it +was not GOOD for something, but only beautiful, merely beautiful-- + +So I sighed, and did not go. For it wasn't good for anything; +it could not build a shack, it could not improve melons, it could +not hurry a fruit crop; it was useless, it was a foolishness +and a vanity; he would despise it and say cutting words. +But to me it was not despicable; I said, "Oh, you fire, I love you, +you dainty pink creature, for you are BEAUTIFUL--and that is enough!" +and was going to gather it to my breast. But refrained. +Then I made another maxim out of my head, though it was so nearly +like the first one that I was afraid it was only a plagiarism: +"THE BURNT EXPERIMENT SHUNS THE FIRE." + +I wrought again; and when I had made a good deal of fire-dust I emptied +it into a handful of dry brown grass, intending to carry it home +and keep it always and play with it; but the wind struck it and it +sprayed up and spat out at me fiercely, and I dropped it and ran. +When I looked back the blue spirit was towering up and stretching +and rolling away like a cloud, and instantly I thought of the name +of it--SMOKE!--though, upon my word, I had never heard of smoke before. + +Soon brilliant yellow and red flares shot up through the smoke, +and I named them in an instant--FLAMES--and I was right, too, +though these were the very first flames that had ever been +in the world. They climbed the trees, then flashed splendidly +in and out of the vast and increasing volume of tumbling smoke, +and I had to clap my hands and laugh and dance in my rapture, +it was so new and strange and so wonderful and so beautiful! + +He came running, and stopped and gazed, and said not a word for +many minutes. Then he asked what it was. Ah, it was too bad that he +should ask such a direct question. I had to answer it, of course, +and I did. I said it was fire. If it annoyed him that I should know +and he must ask; that was not my fault; I had no desire to annoy him. +After a pause he asked: + +"How did it come?" + +Another direct question, and it also had to have a direct answer. + +"I made it." + +The fire was traveling farther and farther off. He went to the edge +of the burned place and stood looking down, and said: + +"What are these?" + +"Fire-coals." + +He picked up one to examine it, but changed his mind and put it +down again. Then he went away. NOTHING interests him. + +But I was interested. There were ashes, gray and soft and delicate +and pretty--I knew what they were at once. And the embers; +I knew the embers, too. I found my apples, and raked them out, +and was glad; for I am very young and my appetite is active. +But I was disappointed; they were all burst open and spoiled. +Spoiled apparently; but it was not so; they were better than raw ones. +Fire is beautiful; some day it will be useful, I think. + +FRIDAY.--I saw him again, for a moment, last Monday at nightfall, +but only for a moment. I was hoping he would praise me for trying +to improve the estate, for I had meant well and had worked hard. +But he was not pleased, and turned away and left me. He was also +displeased on another account: I tried once more to persuade him +to stop going over the Falls. That was because the fire had revealed +to me a new passion--quite new, and distinctly different from love, +grief, and those others which I had already discovered--FEAR. And it +is horrible!--I wish I had never discovered it; it gives me dark moments, +it spoils my happiness, it makes me shiver and tremble and shudder. +But I could not persuade him, for he has not discovered fear yet, +and so he could not understand me. + + +Extract from Adam's Diary + + +Perhaps I ought to remember that she is very young, a mere girl and +make allowances. She is all interest, eagerness, vivacity, the world +is to her a charm, a wonder, a mystery, a joy; she can't speak for +delight when she finds a new flower, she must pet it and caress it +and smell it and talk to it, and pour out endearing names upon it. +And she is color-mad: brown rocks, yellow sand, gray moss, green foliage, +blue sky; the pearl of the dawn, the purple shadows on the mountains, +the golden islands floating in crimson seas at sunset, the pallid moon +sailing through the shredded cloud-rack, the star-jewels glittering +in the wastes of space--none of them is of any practical value, +so far as I can see, but because they have color and majesty, +that is enough for her, and she loses her mind over them. +If she could quiet down and keep still a couple minutes at a time, +it would be a reposeful spectacle. In that case I think I could +enjoy looking at her; indeed I am sure I could, for I am coming +to realize that she is a quite remarkably comely creature-- +lithe, slender, trim, rounded, shapely, nimble, graceful; and once +when she was standing marble-white and sun-drenched on a boulder, +with her young head tilted back and her hand shading her eyes, +watching the flight of a bird in the sky, I recognized that she +was beautiful. + +MONDAY NOON.--If there is anything on the planet that she is not +interested in it is not in my list. There are animals that I am +indifferent to, but it is not so with her. She has no discrimination, +she takes to all of them, she thinks they are all treasures, +every new one is welcome. + +When the mighty brontosaurus came striding into camp, she regarded +it as an acquisition, I considered it a calamity; that is a good +sample of the lack of harmony that prevails in our views of things. +She wanted to domesticate it, I wanted to make it a present of the +homestead and move out. She believed it could be tamed by kind +treatment and would be a good pet; I said a pet twenty-one feet +high and eighty-four feet long would be no proper thing to have +about the place, because, even with the best intentions and without +meaning any harm, it could sit down on the house and mash it, +for any one could see by the look of its eye that it was absent-minded. + +Still, her heart was set upon having that monster, and she +couldn't give it up. She thought we could start a dairy with it, +and wanted me to help milk it; but I wouldn't; it was too risky. +The sex wasn't right, and we hadn't any ladder anyway. Then she +wanted to ride it, and look at the scenery. Thirty or forty feet +of its tail was lying on the ground, like a fallen tree, and she +thought she could climb it, but she was mistaken; when she got +to the steep place it was too slick and down she came, and would +have hurt herself but for me. + +Was she satisfied now? No. Nothing ever satisfies her but demonstration; +untested theories are not in her line, and she won't have them. +It is the right spirit, I concede it; it attracts me; I feel the +influence of it; if I were with her more I think I should take it +up myself. Well, she had one theory remaining about this colossus: +she thought that if we could tame it and make him friendly we could +stand in the river and use him for a bridge. It turned out that he +was already plenty tame enough--at least as far as she was concerned-- +so she tried her theory, but it failed: every time she got him +properly placed in the river and went ashore to cross over him, +he came out and followed her around like a pet mountain. Like the +other animals. They all do that. + + +FRIDAY.--Tuesday--Wednesday--Thursday--and today: all without +seeing him. It is a long time to be alone; still, it is better +to be alone than unwelcome. + +I HAD to have company--I was made for it, I think--so I made +friends with the animals. They are just charming, and they have +the kindest disposition and the politest ways; they never look sour, +they never let you feel that you are intruding, they smile at you +and wag their tail, if they've got one, and they are always ready +for a romp or an excursion or anything you want to propose. +I think they are perfect gentlemen. All these days we have had such +good times, and it hasn't been lonesome for me, ever. Lonesome! No, +I should say not. Why, there's always a swarm of them around-- +sometimes as much as four or five acres--you can't count them; +and when you stand on a rock in the midst and look out over the +furry expanse it is so mottled and splashed and gay with color +and frisking sheen and sun-flash, and so rippled with stripes, +that you might think it was a lake, only you know it isn't; +and there's storms of sociable birds, and hurricanes of whirring wings; +and when the sun strikes all that feathery commotion, you have a blazing +up of all the colors you can think of, enough to put your eyes out. + +We have made long excursions, and I have seen a great deal of the world; +almost all of it, I think; and so I am the first traveler, +and the only one. When we are on the march, it is an imposing sight-- +there's nothing like it anywhere. For comfort I ride a tiger +or a leopard, because it is soft and has a round back that fits me, +and because they are such pretty animals; but for long distance +or for scenery I ride the elephant. He hoists me up with his trunk, +but I can get off myself; when we are ready to camp, he sits and I +slide down the back way. + +The birds and animals are all friendly to each other, and there +are no disputes about anything. They all talk, and they all talk +to me, but it must be a foreign language, for I cannot make out +a word they say; yet they often understand me when I talk back, +particularly the dog and the elephant. It makes me ashamed. +It shows that they are brighter than I am, for I want to be the +principal Experiment myself--and I intend to be, too. + +I have learned a number of things, and am educated, now, but I +wasn't at first. I was ignorant at first. At first it used to vex +me because, with all my watching, I was never smart enough to be +around when the water was running uphill; but now I do not mind it. +I have experimented and experimented until now I know it never +does run uphill, except in the dark. I know it does in the dark, +because the pool never goes dry, which it would, of course, +if the water didn't come back in the night. It is best to prove +things by actual experiment; then you KNOW; whereas if you depend +on guessing and supposing and conjecturing, you never get educated. + +Some things you CAN'T find out; but you will never know you can't +by guessing and supposing: no, you have to be patient and go on +experimenting until you find out that you can't find out. And it is +delightful to have it that way, it makes the world so interesting. +If there wasn't anything to find out, it would be dull. Even trying +to find out and not finding out is just as interesting as trying +to find out and finding out, and I don't know but more so. +The secret of the water was a treasure until I GOT it; then the +excitement all went away, and I recognized a sense of loss. + +By experiment I know that wood swims, and dry leaves, and feathers, +and plenty of other things; therefore by all that cumulative evidence +you know that a rock will swim; but you have to put up with simply +knowing it, for there isn't any way to prove it--up to now. +But I shall find a way--then THAT excitement will go. Such things +make me sad; because by and by when I have found out everything +there won't be any more excitements, and I do love excitements so! +The other night I couldn't sleep for thinking about it. + +At first I couldn't make out what I was made for, but now I think it +was to search out the secrets of this wonderful world and be happy +and thank the Giver of it all for devising it. I think there are many +things to learn yet--I hope so; and by economizing and not hurrying +too fast I think they will last weeks and weeks. I hope so. When you +cast up a feather it sails away on the air and goes out of sight; +then you throw up a clod and it doesn't. It comes down, every time. +I have tried it and tried it, and it is always so. I wonder why +it is? Of course it DOESN'T come down, but why should it SEEM to? +I suppose it is an optical illusion. I mean, one of them is. +I don't know which one. It may be the feather, it may be the clod; +I can't prove which it is, I can only demonstrate that one or the other +is a fake, and let a person take his choice. + +By watching, I know that the stars are not going to last. +I have seen some of the best ones melt and run down the sky. +Since one can melt, they can all melt; since they can all melt, +they can all melt the same night. That sorrow will come--I know it. +I mean to sit up every night and look at them as long as I can +keep awake; and I will impress those sparkling fields on my memory, +so that by and by when they are taken away I can by my fancy restore +those lovely myriads to the black sky and make them sparkle again, +and double them by the blur of my tears. + + +After the Fall + + +When I look back, the Garden is a dream to me. It was beautiful, +surpassingly beautiful, enchantingly beautiful; and now it is lost, +and I shall not see it any more. + +The Garden is lost, but I have found HIM, and am content. +He loves me as well as he can; I love him with all the strength +of my passionate nature, and this, I think, is proper to my youth +and sex. If I ask myself why I love him, I find I do not know, +and do not really much care to know; so I suppose that this kind +of love is not a product of reasoning and statistics, like one's +love for other reptiles and animals. I think that this must be so. +I love certain birds because of their song; but I do not love Adam +on account of his singing--no, it is not that; the more he sings +the more I do not get reconciled to it. Yet I ask him to sing, +because I wish to learn to like everything he is interested in. +I am sure I can learn, because at first I could not stand it, +but now I can. It sours the milk, but it doesn't matter; I can get +used to that kind of milk. + +It is not on account of his brightness that I love him--no, it is +not that. He is not to blame for his brightness, such as it is, +for he did not make it himself; he is as God make him, and that +is sufficient. There was a wise purpose in it, THAT I know. +In time it will develop, though I think it will not be sudden; +and besides, there is no hurry; he is well enough just as he is. + +It is not on account of his gracious and considerate ways and +his delicacy that I love him. No, he has lacks in this regard, +but he is well enough just so, and is improving. + +It is not on account of his industry that I love him--no, it is +not that. I think he has it in him, and I do not know why he +conceals it from me. It is my only pain. Otherwise he is frank +and open with me, now. I am sure he keeps nothing from me but this. +It grieves me that he should have a secret from me, and sometimes it +spoils my sleep, thinking of it, but I will put it out of my mind; +it shall not trouble my happiness, which is otherwise full +to overflowing. + +It is not on account of his education that I love him--no, it is +not that. He is self-educated, and does really know a multitude +of things, but they are not so. + +It is not on account of his chivalry that I love him--no, it is not that. +He told on me, but I do not blame him; it is a peculiarity of sex, +I think, and he did not make his sex. Of course I would not have +told on him, I would have perished first; but that is a peculiarity +of sex, too, and I do not take credit for it, for I did not make +my sex. + +Then why is it that I love him? MERELY BECAUSE HE IS MASCULINE, +I think. + +At bottom he is good, and I love him for that, but I could love +him without it. If he should beat me and abuse me, I should go +on loving him. I know it. It is a matter of sex, I think. + +He is strong and handsome, and I love him for that, and I admire him +and am proud of him, but I could love him without those qualities. +He he were plain, I should love him; if he were a wreck, I should +love him; and I would work for him, and slave over him, and pray +for him, and watch by his bedside until I died. + +Yes, I think I love him merely because he is MINE and is MASCULINE. +There is no other reason, I suppose. And so I think it is as I +first said: that this kind of love is not a product of reasonings +and statistics. It just COMES--none knows whence--and cannot +explain itself. And doesn't need to. + +It is what I think. But I am only a girl, the first that has +examined this matter, and it may turn out that in my ignorance +and inexperience I have not got it right. + + +Forty Years Later + + +It is my prayer, it is my longing, that we may pass from this +life together--a longing which shall never perish from the earth, +but shall have place in the heart of every wife that loves, +until the end of time; and it shall be called by my name. + +But if one of us must go first, it is my prayer that it shall be I; +for he is strong, I am weak, I am not so necessary to him as he is +to me--life without him would not be life; now could I endure it? +This prayer is also immortal, and will not cease from being offered up +while my race continues. I am the first wife; and in the last wife I +shall be repeated. + + +At Eve's Grave + + +ADAM: Wheresoever she was, THERE was Eden. + + +*** + +The End of Project Gutenberg etext of "The $30,000 Bequest" + diff --git a/old/old/beqst12.zip b/old/old/beqst12.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b0a72bd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/beqst12.zip |