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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Coffee and Repartee + +Author: John Kendrick Bangs + +Release Date: April 19, 2006 [EBook #18207] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COFFEE AND REPARTEE *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Suzanne Shell and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<a name='image000' id='image000'></a><img src="images/image000.jpg" width="448" height="344" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 482px;"> +<a name='image001' id='image001'></a><img src="images/image001.png" width="482" height="675" alt=""'ARE YOU RELATED TO GOVERNOR McKINLEY?'"" title=""'ARE YOU RELATED TO GOVERNOR McKINLEY?'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'ARE YOU RELATED TO GOVERNOR McKINLEY?'"</span> +</div> + +<h1>COFFEE AND REPARTEE</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>JOHN KENDRICK BANGS</h2> + +<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 95px;"> +<a name='image002' id='image002'></a><img src="images/image002.png" width="95" height="150" alt="Publisher's logo" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">NEW YORK AND LONDON<br /> +HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS</p> + +<p class="center">1899 +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='ads'> +<h2>Harper's "Black and White" Series.</h2> + +<h3>Illustrated. 32mo, Cloth, 50 cents each.</h3> +<table border='0' cellpadding='1' summary=""><tr> +<td> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">In the Vestibule Limited.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">By Brander Matthews.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">This Picture and That.</span> A</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Comedy. By Brander Matthews.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Decision of the Court.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">A Comedy. By Brander Matthews.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">A Family Canoe Trip.</span> By</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Florence W. Snedeker.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Three Weeks in Politics.</span> By</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">John Kendrick Bangs.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Coffee and Repartee.</span> By</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">John Kendrick Bangs.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Travels in America 100 Years</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ago.</span> By Thomas Twining.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Work of Washington</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Irving.</span> By Charles Dudley</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Warner.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Edwin Booth.</span> By Laurence</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Hutton.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Phillips Brooks.</span> By Rev.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Arthur Brooks, D.D.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Rivals.</span> By François</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Coppée.</span><br /> +</td><td> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Lowell.</span> By G. W. Curtis.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">George William Curtis.</span> By</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">John White Chadwick.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Slavery and the Slave Trade</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">in Africa.</span> By Henry M.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Stanley.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Whittier: Notes of His Life</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">and of His Friendships.</span> By</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Annie Fields.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Japanese Bride.</span> By</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Naomi Tamura.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Giles Corey, Yeoman.</span> By</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Mary E. Wilkins.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Seen From the Saddle.</span> By</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Isa Carrington Cabell.</span><br /> + +<p>BY W. D. HOWELLS.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">Farces: <span class="smcap">A Letter of Introduction.—The</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Albany Depot.—The Garroters.—Five</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O'Clock Tea.—The Mouse-trap.—A</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Likely Story.—Evening Dress.—The</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Unexpected Guests.</span></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">A Little Swiss Sojourn.</span></span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">My Year in a Log Cabin.</span></span><br /> +</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p class='center'>PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK.</p> +</div> + +<p class='center'>Copyright, 1893, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.</p> + +<p class='center'><i>All rights reserved.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class='center'>TO<br /> +F. S. M. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<ul style='list-style-type:none;'> +<li><a href="#image001">"'Are you related to Governor McKinley?'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image004">"Alarmed the cook"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image005">"'What are the first symptoms of insanity?'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image006">"'Reading Webster's Dictionary'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image007">"'I stuck to the pigs'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image008">The conspirators</a></li> +<li><a href="#image009">"'Weren't your ears long enough?'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image010">"'The corks popped to some purpose last night'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image011">"'If you could spare so little as one flame'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image012">The school-master as a cooler</a></li> +<li><a href="#image012a">"'Reading the Sunday newspapers'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image013">Bobbo</a></li> +<li><a href="#image014">Wooing the Muse</a></li> +<li><a href="#image015">"'He gave up jokes'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image016">"'A little garden of my own, where I could raise an occasional can of tomatoes'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image017">"'A hind-quarter of lamb gambolling about its native heath'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image018">"'The gladsome click of the lawn-mower'"</a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#image019">"'You don't mean to say that you write for the papers?'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image020">"'We wooed the self-same maid'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image021">Curing insomnia</a></li> +<li><a href="#image022">"Holding his plate up to the light"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image023">"'I believe you'd blow out the gas in your bed-room'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image024">"'His fairy stories were told him in words of ten syllables'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image025">"'I thought my father a mean-spirited assassin'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image026">"'Mrs. S. brought him to the point of proposing'"</a></li> +<li><a href="#image027">"'Hoorah!' cried the Idiot, grasping Mr. Pedagog by the hand"</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></li> +</ul> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 725px;"> +<a name='image003' id='image003'></a><img src="images/image003.png" width="725" height="282" alt="Coffee and Repartee" title="Coffee and Repartee" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + + +<p>The guests at Mrs. Smithers's high-class boarding-house for gentlemen +had assembled as usual for breakfast, and in a few moments Mary, the +dainty waitress, entered with the steaming coffee, the mush, and the +rolls.</p> + +<p>The School-master, who, by-the-way, was suspected by Mrs. Smithers of +having intentions, and who for that reason occupied the chair nearest +the lady's heart, folded up the morning paper, and placing it under him +so that no one else could get it, observed, quite genially for him, "It +was very wet yesterday."</p> + +<p>"I didn't find it so," observed a young man seated half-way down the +table, who was by common consent called the Idiot,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> because of his +"views." "In fact, I was very dry. Curious thing, I'm always dry on +rainy days. I am one of the kind of men who know that it is the part of +wisdom to stay in when it rains, or to carry an umbrella when it is not +possible to stay at home, or, having no home, like ourselves, to remain +cooped up in stalls, or stalled up in coops, as you may prefer."</p> + +<p>"You carried an umbrella, then?" queried the landlady, ignoring the +Idiot's shaft at the size of her "elegant and airy apartments" with an +ease born of experience.</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame," returned the Idiot, quite unconscious of what was coming.</p> + +<p>"Whose?" queried the lady, a sarcastic smile playing about her lips.</p> + +<p>"That I cannot say, Mrs. Smithers," replied the Idiot, serenely, "but it +is the one you usually carry."</p> + +<p>"Your insinuation, sir," said the School-master, coming to the +landlady's rescue, "is an unworthy one. The umbrella in question is +mine. It has been in my possession for five years."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>"Then," replied the Idiot, unabashed, "it is time you returned it. Don't +you think men's morals are rather lax in this matter of umbrellas, Mr. +Whitechoker?" he added, turning from the School-master, who began to +show signs of irritation.</p> + +<p>"Very," said the Minister, running his finger about his neck to make the +collar which had been sent home from the laundry by mistake set more +easily—"very lax. At the last Conference I attended, some person, +forgetting his high office as a minister in the Church, walked off with +my umbrella without so much as a thank you; and it was embarrassing too, +because the rain was coming down in bucketfuls."</p> + +<p>"What did you do?" asked the landlady, sympathetically. She liked Mr. +Whitechoker's sermons, and, beyond this, he was a more profitable +boarder than any of the others, remaining home to luncheon every day and +having to pay extra therefor.</p> + +<p>"There was but one thing left for me to do. I took the bishop's +umbrella," said Mr. Whitechoker, blushing slightly.</p> + +<p>"But you returned it, of course?" said the Idiot.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>"I intended to, but I left it on the train on my way back home the next +day," replied the clergyman, visibly embarrassed by the Idiot's +unexpected cross-examination.</p> + +<p>"It's the same way with books," put in the Bibliomaniac, an unfortunate +being whose love of rare first editions had brought him down from +affluence to boarding. "Many a man who wouldn't steal a dollar would run +off with a book. I had a friend once who had a rare copy of <i>Through +Africa by Daylight</i>. It was a beautiful book. Only twenty-five copies +printed. The margins of the pages were four inches wide, and the +title-page was rubricated; the frontispiece was colored by hand, and the +seventeenth page had one of the most amusing typographical errors on +it—"</p> + +<p>"Was there any reading-matter in the book?" queried the Idiot, blowing +softly on a hot potato that was nicely balanced on the end of his fork.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>"Yes, a little; but it didn't amount to much," returned the +Bibliomaniac. "But, you know, it isn't as reading-matter that men like +myself care for books. We have a higher notion than that. It is as a +specimen of book-making that we admire a chaste bit of literature like +<i>Through Africa by Daylight</i>. But, as I was saying, my friend had this +book, and he'd extra-illustrated it. He had pictures from all parts of +the world in it, and the book had grown from a volume of one hundred +pages to four volumes of two hundred pages each."</p> + +<p>"And it was stolen by a highly honorable friend, I suppose?" queried the +Idiot.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was stolen—and my friend never knew by whom," said the +Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"What?" asked the Idiot, in much surprise. "Did you never confess?"</p> + +<p>It was very fortunate for the Idiot that the buckwheat cakes were +brought on at this moment. Had there not been some diversion of that +kind, it is certain that the Bibliomaniac would have assaulted him.</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of Mrs. Smithers, I think," said the School-master, "to +provide us with such delightful cakes as these free of charge."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>"Yes," said the Idiot, helping himself to six cakes. "Very kind indeed, +although I must say they are extremely economical from an architectural +point of view—which is to say, they are rather fuller of pores than of +buckwheat. I wonder why it is," he continued, possibly to avert the +landlady's retaliatory comments—"I wonder why it is that porous +plasters and buckwheat cakes are so similar in appearance?"</p> + +<p>"And so widely different in their respective effects on the system," put +in a genial old gentleman who occasionally imbibed, seated next to the +Idiot.</p> + +<p>"I fail to see the similarity between a buckwheat cake and a porous +plaster," said the School-master, resolved, if possible, to embarrass +the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"You don't, eh?" replied the latter. "Then it is very plain, sir, that +you have never eaten a porous plaster."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>To this the School-master could find no reasonable reply, and he took +refuge in silence. Mr. Whitechoker tried to look severe; the gentleman +who occasionally imbibed smiled all over; the Bibliomaniac ignored the +remark entirely, not having as yet forgiven the Idiot for his gross +insinuation regarding his friend's <i>édition de luxe</i> of <i>Through Africa +by Daylight</i>; Mary, the maid, who greatly admired the Idiot, not so much +for his idiocy as for the aristocratic manner in which he carried +himself, and the truly striking striped shirts he wore, left the room +in a convulsion of laughter that so alarmed the cook below-stairs that +the next platterful of cakes were more like tin plates than cakes; and +as for Mrs. Smithers, that worthy woman was speechless with wrath. But +she was not paralyzed apparently, for reaching down into her pocket she +brought forth a small piece of paper, on which was written in detail the +"account due" of the Idiot.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 734px;"> +<a name='image004' id='image004'></a><img src="images/image004.png" width="734" height="451" alt=""ALARMED THE COOK"" title=""ALARMED THE COOK"" /> +<span class="caption">"ALARMED THE COOK"</span> +</div> + +<p>"I'd like to have this settled, sir," she said, with some asperity.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear madame," replied the Idiot, unabashed—"certainly. +Can you change a check for a hundred?"</p> + +<p>No, Mrs. Smithers could not.</p> + +<p>"Then I shall have to put off paying the account until this evening," +said the Idiot. "But," he added, with a glance at the amount of the +bill, "are you related to Governor McKinley, Mrs. Smithers?"</p> + +<p>"I am not," she returned, sharply. "My mother was a Partington."</p> + +<p>"I only asked," said the Idiot, apologetically, "because I am very much +interested in the subject of heredity, and you may not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> know it, but you +and he have each a marked tendency towards high-tariff bills."</p> + +<p>And before Mrs. Smithers could think of anything to say, the Idiot was +on his way down town to help his employer lose money on Wall Street.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> + + +<p>"Do you know, I sometimes think—" began the Idiot, opening and shutting +the silver cover of his watch several times with a snap, with the +probable, and not altogether laudable, purpose of calling his landlady's +attention to the fact—of which she was already painfully aware—that +breakfast was fifteen minutes late.</p> + +<p>"Do you, really?" interrupted the School-master, looking up from his +book with an air of mock surprise. "I am sure I never should have +suspected it."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?" returned the Idiot, undisturbed by this reflection upon his +intellect. "I don't really know whether that is due to your generally +unsuspicious nature, or to your shortcomings as a mind-reader."</p> + +<p>"There are some minds," put in the landlady at this point, "that are so +small that it would certainly ruin the eyes to read them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have seen many such," observed the Idiot, suavely. "Even our friend +the Bibliomaniac at times has seemed to me to be very absent-minded. And +that reminds me, Doctor," he continued, addressing himself to the +medical boarder. "What is the cause of absent-mindedness?"</p> + +<p>"That," returned the Doctor, ponderously, "is a very large question. +Absent-mindedness, generally speaking, is the result of the projection +of the intellect into surroundings other than those which for want of a +better term I might call the corporeally immediate."</p> + +<p>"So I have understood," said the Idiot, approvingly. "And is +absent-mindedness acquired or inherent?"</p> + +<p>Here the Idiot appropriated the roll of his neighbor.</p> + +<p>"That depends largely upon the case," replied the Doctor, nervously. +"Some are born absent-minded, some achieve absent-mindedness, and some +have absent-mindedness thrust upon them."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 396px;"> +<a name='image006' id='image006'></a><img src="images/image006.png" width="396" height="660" alt=""'READING WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY'"" title=""'READING WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'READING WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"As illustrations of which we might take, for instance, I suppose," said +the Idiot, "the born idiot, the borrower, and the man who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> is knocked +silly by the pole of a truck on Broadway."</p> + +<p>"Precisely," replied the Doctor, glad to get out of the discussion so +easily. He was a very young doctor, and not always sure of himself.</p> + +<p>"Or," put in the School-master, "to condense our illustrations, if the +Idiot would kindly go out upon Broadway and encounter the truck, we +should find the three combined in him."</p> + +<p>The landlady here laughed quite heartily, and handed the School-master +an extra strong cup of coffee.</p> + +<p>"There is a great deal in what you say," said the Idiot, without a +tremor. "There are very few scientific phenomena that cannot be +demonstrated in one way or another by my poor self. It is the exception +always that proves the rule, and in my case you find a consistent +converse exemplification of all three branches of absent-mindedness."</p> + +<p>"He talks well," said the Bibliomaniac, <i>sotto voce</i>, to the Minister.</p> + +<p>"Yes, especially when he gets hold of large words. I really believe he +reads," replied Mr. Whitechoker.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + + +<p>"I know he does," said the School-master, who had overheard. "I saw him +reading Webster's Dictionary last night. I have noticed, however, that +generally his vocabulary is largely confined to words that come between +the letters A and F, which shows that as yet he has not dipped very +deeply into the book."</p> + +<p>"What are you murmuring about?" queried the Idiot, noting the lowered +tone of those on the other side of the table.</p> + +<p>"We were conversing—ahem! about—" began the Minister, with a +despairing glance at the Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"Let me say it," interrupted the Bibliomaniac. "You aren't used to +prevarication, and that is what is demanded at this time. We were +talking about—ah—about—er—"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 566px;"> +<a name='image005' id='image005'></a><img src="images/image005.png" width="566" height="343" alt=""'WHAT ARE THE FIRST SYMPTOMS OF INSANITY?'"" title=""'WHAT ARE THE FIRST SYMPTOMS OF INSANITY?'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'WHAT ARE THE FIRST SYMPTOMS OF INSANITY?'"</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tut! tut!" ejaculated the School-master. "We were only saying we +thought the—er—the—that the—"</p> + +<p>"What <i>are</i> the first symptoms of insanity, Doctor?" observed the Idiot, +with a look of wonder at the three shuffling boarders opposite him, and +turning anxiously to the physician.</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't talk shop," retorted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> the Doctor, angrily. Insanity +was one of his weak points.</p> + +<p>"It's a beastly habit," said the School-master, much relieved at this +turn of the conversation.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps you are right," returned the Idiot. "People do, as a +rule, prefer to talk of things they know something about, and I don't +blame you, Doctor, for wanting to keep out of a medical discussion. I +only asked my last question because the behavior of the Bibliomaniac and +Mr. Whitechoker and the School-master for some time past has worried me, +and I didn't know but what you might work up a nice little practice +among us. It might not pay, but you'd find the experience valuable, and +I think unique."</p> + +<p>"It is a fine thing to have a doctor right in the house," said Mr. +Whitechoker, kindly, fearing that the Doctor's manifest indignation +might get the better of him.</p> + +<p>"That," returned the Idiot, "is an assertion, Mr. Whitechoker, that is +both true and untrue. There are times when a physician is an ornament to +a boarding-house; times when he is not. For instance, on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> Wednesday +morning if it had not been for the surgical skill of our friend here, +our good landlady could never have managed properly to distribute the +late autumn chicken we found upon the menu. Tally one for the +affirmative. On the other hand, I must confess to considerable loss of +appetite when I see the Doctor rolling his bread up into little pills, +or measuring the vinegar he puts on his salad by means of a glass +dropper, and taking the temperature of his coffee with his pocket +thermometer. Nor do I like—and I should not have mentioned it save by +way of illustrating my position in regard to Mr. Whitechoker's +assertion—nor do I like the cold, eager glitter in the Doctor's eyes as +he watches me consuming, with some difficulty, I admit, the cold pastry +we have served up to us on Saturday mornings under the wholly +transparent <i>alias</i> of 'Hot Bread.' I may have very bad taste, but, in +my humble opinion, the man who talks shop is preferable to the one who +suggests it in his eyes. Some more iced potatoes, Mary," he added, +calmly.</p> + +<p>"Madame," said the Doctor, turning angrily to the landlady, "this is +insufferable.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> You may make out my bill this morning. I shall have to +seek a home elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Oh, now, Doctor!" began the landlady, in her most pleading tone.</p> + +<p>"Jove!" ejaculated the Idiot. "That's a good idea, Doctor. I think I'll +go with you; I'm not altogether satisfied here myself, but to desert so +charming a company as we have here had never occurred to me. Together, +however, we can go forth, and perhaps find happiness. Shall we put on +our hunting togs and chase the fiery, untamed hall-room to the death +this morning, or shall we put it off until some pleasanter day?"</p> + +<p>"Put it off," observed the School-master, persuasively. "The Idiot was +only indulging in persiflage, Doctor. That's all. When you have known +him longer you will understand him better. Views are as necessary to him +as sunlight to the flowers; and I truly think that in an asylum he would +prove a delightful companion."</p> + +<p>"There, Doctor," said the Idiot; "that's handsome of the School-master. +He couldn't make more of an apology if he tried. I'll forgive him if you +will. What say you?"</p> + +<p>And strange to say, the Doctor, in spite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> of the indignation which still +left a red tinge on his cheek, laughed aloud and was reconciled.</p> + +<p>As for the School-master, he wanted to be angry, but he did not feel +that he could afford his wrath, and for the first time in some months +the guests went their several ways at peace with each other and the +world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> + + +<p>There was a conspiracy in hand to embarrass the Idiot. The School-master +and the Bibliomaniac had combined forces to give him a taste of his own +medicine. The time had not yet arrived which showed the Idiot at a +disadvantage; and the two boarders, the one proud of his learning, and +the other not wholly unconscious of a bookish life, were distinctly +tired of the triumphant manner in which the Idiot always left the +breakfast-table to their invariable discomfiture.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 619px;"> +<a name='image008' id='image008'></a><img src="images/image008.png" width="619" height="380" alt="THE CONSPIRATORS" title="THE CONSPIRATORS" /> +<span class="caption">THE CONSPIRATORS</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the School-master's suggestion to put their tormentor into the +pit he had heretofore digged for them. The worthy instructor of youth +had of late come to see that while he was still a prime favorite with +his landlady, he had, nevertheless, suffered somewhat in her estimation +because of the apparent ease with which the Idiot had got the better of +him on all points. It was nec<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>essary, he thought, to rehabilitate +himself, and a deep-laid plot, to which the Bibliomaniac readily lent +ear, was the result of his reflections. They twain were to indulge in a +discussion of the great story of <i>Robert Elsmere</i>, which both were +confident the Idiot had not read, and concerning which they felt assured +he could not have an intelligent opinion if he had read it.</p> + +<p>So it happened upon this bright Sunday morning that as the boarders sat +them down to partake of the usual "restful breakfast," as the Idiot +termed it, the Bibliomaniac observed:</p> + +<p>"I have just finished reading <i>Robert Elsmere</i>."</p> + +<p>"Have you, indeed?" returned the School-master, with apparent interest. +"I trust you profited by it?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," observed the Bibliomaniac. "My views are much +unsettled by it."</p> + +<p>"I prefer the breast of the chicken, Mrs. Smithers," observed the Idiot, +sending his plate back to the presiding genius of the table. "The neck +of a chicken is graceful, but not too full of sustenance."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He fights shy," whispered the Bibliomaniac, gleefully.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," returned the School-master, confidently; "we'll land him +yet." Then he added, aloud: "Unsettled by it? I fail to see how any man +with beliefs that are at all the result of mature convictions can be +unsettled by the story of <i>Elsmere</i>. For my part I believe, and I have +always said—"</p> + +<p>"I never could understand why the neck of a chicken should be allowed on +a respectable table anyhow," continued the Idiot, ignoring the +controversy in which his neighbors were engaged, "unless for the purpose +of showing that the deceased fowl met with an accidental rather than a +natural death."</p> + +<p>"In what way does the neck demonstrate that point?" queried the +Bibliomaniac, forgetting the conspiracy for a moment.</p> + +<p>"By its twist or by its length, of course," returned the Idiot. "A +chicken that dies a natural death does not have its neck wrung; nor when +the head is removed by the use of a hatchet, is it likely that it will +be cut off so close behind the ears that those who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>eat the chicken are +confronted with four inches of neck."</p> + + +<p>"Very entertaining indeed," interposed the School-master; "but we are +wandering from the point the Bibliomaniac and I were discussing. Is or +is not the story of <i>Robert Elsmere</i> unsettling to one's beliefs? +Perhaps you can help us to decide that question."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I can," returned the Idiot; "and perhaps not. It did not +unsettle my beliefs."</p> + +<p>"But don't you think," observed the Bibliomaniac, "that to certain minds +the book is more or less unsettling?"</p> + +<p>"To that I can confidently say no. The certain mind knows no +uncertainty," replied the Idiot, calmly.</p> + +<p>"Very pretty indeed," said the School-master, coldly. "But what was your +opinion of Mrs. Ward's handling of the subject? Do you think she was +sufficiently realistic? And if so, and Elsmere weakened under the stress +of circumstances, do you think—or don't you think—the production of +such a book harmful, because—being real—it must of necessity be +unsettling to some minds?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + + +<p>"I prefer not to express an opinion on that subject," returned the +Idiot, "because I never read <i>Robert Els</i>—"</p> + +<p>"Never read it?" ejaculated the School-master, a look of triumph in his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, everybody has read <i>Elsmere</i> that pretends to have read anything," +asserted the Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"Of course," put in the landlady, with a scornful laugh.</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't," said the Idiot, nonchalantly. "The same ground was +gone over two years before in Burrows's great story, <i>Is It, or Is It +Not?</i> and anybody who ever read Clink's books on the <i>Non-Existent as +Opposed to What Is</i>, knows where Burrows got his points. Burrows's story +was a perfect marvel. I don't know how many editions it went through in +England, and when it was translated into French by Madame Tournay, it +simply set the French wild."</p> + +<p>"Great Scott!" whispered the Bibliomaniac, desperately, "I'm afraid +we've been barking up the wrong tree."</p> + +<p>"You've read Clink, I suppose?" asked the Idiot, turning to the +School-master.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Y—yes," returned the School-master, blushing deeply.</p> + +<p>The Idiot looked surprised, and tried to conceal a smile by sipping his +coffee from a spoon.</p> + +<p>"And Burrows?"</p> + +<p>"No," returned the School-master, humbly. "I never read Burrows."</p> + +<p>"Well, you ought to. It's a great book, and it's the one <i>Robert +Elsmere</i> is taken from—same ideas all through, I'm told—that's why I +didn't read <i>Elsmere</i>. Waste of time, you know. But you noticed +yourself, I suppose, that Clink's ground is the same as that covered in +<i>Elsmere</i>?"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 360px;"> +<a name='image007' id='image007'></a><img src="images/image007.png" width="360" height="563" alt=""'I STUCK TO THE PIGS'"" title=""'I STUCK TO THE PIGS'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'I STUCK TO THE PIGS'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"No; I only dipped lightly into Clink," returned the School-master, with +some embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"But you couldn't help noticing a similarity of ideas?" insisted the +Idiot, calmly.</p> + +<p>The School-master looked beseechingly at the Bibliomaniac, who would +have been glad to fly to his co-conspirator's assistance had he known +how, but never having heard of Clink, or Burrows either, for that +matter, he made up his mind that it was best for his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> reputation for him +to stay out of the controversy.</p> + +<p>"Very slight similarity, however," said the School-master, in despair.</p> + +<p>"Where can I find Clink's books?" put in Mr. Whitechoker, very much +interested.</p> + +<p>The Idiot conveniently had his mouth full of chicken at the moment, and +it was to the School-master who had also read him that they all—the +landlady included—looked for an answer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think," returned that worthy, hesitatingly—"I think you'll find +Clink in any of the public libraries."</p> + +<p>"What is his full name?" persisted Mr. Whitechoker, taking out a +memorandum-book.</p> + +<p>"Horace J. Clink," said the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"Yes; that's it—Horace J. Clink," echoed the School-master. "Very +virile writer and a clear thinker," he added, with some nervousness.</p> + +<p>"What, if any, of his books would you specially recommend?" asked the +Minister again.</p> + +<p>The Idiot had by this time risen from the table, and was leaving the +room with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed.</p> + +<p>The School-master's reply was not audible.</p> + +<p>"I say," said the genial gentleman to the Idiot, as they passed out into +the hall, "they didn't get much the best of you in that matter. But, +tell me, who was Clink, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Never heard of him before," returned the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"And Burrows?"</p> + +<p>"Same as Clink."</p> + +<p>"Know anything about <i>Elsmere</i>?" chuckled the genial gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Nothing—except that it and 'Pigs in Clover' came out at the same time, +and I stuck to the Pigs."</p> + +<p>And the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed was so pleased at the +plight of the School-master and of the Bibliomaniac that he invited the +Idiot up to his room, where the private stock was kept for just such +occasions, and they put in a very pleasant morning together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> + + +<p>The guests were assembled as usual. The oatmeal course had been eaten in +silence. In the Idiot's eye there was a cold glitter of expectancy—a +glitter that boded ill for the man who should challenge him to +controversial combat—and there seemed also to be, judging from sundry +winks passed over the table and kicks passed under it, an understanding +to which he and the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed were +parties.</p> + +<p>As the School-master sampled his coffee the genial gentleman who +occasionally imbibed broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"I missed you at the concert last night, Mr. Idiot," said he.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Idiot, with a caressing movement of the hand over his +upper lip; "I was very sorry, but I couldn't get around last night. I +had an engagement with a number of friends at the athletic club. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +meant to have dropped you a line in the afternoon telling you about it, +but I forgot it until it was too late. Was the concert a success?"</p> + +<p>"Very successful indeed. The best one, in fact, we have had this season, +which makes me regret all the more deeply your absence," returned the +genial gentleman, with a suggestion of a smile playing about his lips. +"Indeed," he added, "it was the finest one I've ever seen."</p> + +<p>"The finest one you've what?" queried the School-master, startled at the +verb.</p> + +<p>"The finest one I've ever seen," replied the genial gentleman. "There +were only ten performers, and really, in all my experience as an +attendant at concerts, I never saw such a magnificent rendering of +Beethoven as we had last night. I wish you could have been there. It was +a sight for the gods."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe," said the Idiot, with a slight cough that may have +been intended to conceal a laugh—and that may also have been the result +of too many cigarettes—"I don't believe it could have been any more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +interesting than a game of pool I heard at the club."</p> + +<p>"It appears to me," said the Bibliomaniac to the School-master, "that +the popping sounds we heard late last night in the Idiot's room may have +some connection with the present mode of speech these two gentlemen +affect."</p> + +<p>"Let's hear them out," returned the School-master, "and then we'll take +them into camp, as the Idiot would say."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that," replied the genial gentleman. "I've seen a +great many concerts, and I've heard a great many good games of pool, but +the concert last night was simply a ravishing spectacle. We had a Cuban +pianist there who played the orchestration of the first act of +<i>Parsifal</i> with surprising agility. As far as I could see, he didn't +miss a note, though it was a little annoying to observe how he used the +pedals."</p> + +<p>"Too forcibly, or how?" queried the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"Not forcibly enough," returned the Imbiber. "He tried to work them both +with one foot. It was the only thing to mar an otherwise marvellous +performance. The idea of a man trying to display Wagner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>with two hands +and one foot is irritating to a musician with a trained eye."</p> + + +<p>"I wish the Doctor would come down," said Mrs. Smithers, anxiously.</p> + + +<p>"Yes," put in the School-master; "there seems to be madness in our +midst."</p> + +<p>"Well, what can you expect of a Cuban, anyhow?" queried the Idiot. "The +Cuban, like the Spaniard or the Italian or the African, hasn't the vigor +which is necessary for the proper comprehension and rendering of +Wagner's music. He is by nature slow and indolent. If it were easier for +a Spaniard to hop than to walk, he'd hop, and rest his other leg. I've +known Italians whose diet was entirely confined to liquids, because they +were too tired to masticate solids. It is the ease with which it can be +absorbed that makes macaroni the favorite dish of the Italians, and the +fondness of all Latin races for wines is entirely due, I think, to the +fact that wine can be swallowed without chewing. This indolence affects +also their language. The Italian and the Spaniard speak the language +that comes easy—that is soft and dreamy; while the Germans and +Russians, stronger, more energetic, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>dulge in a speech that even to +us, who are people of an average amount of energy, is sometimes +appalling in the severity of the strain it puts upon the tongue. So, +while I do not wonder that your Cuban pianist showed woful defects in +his use of the pedals, I do wonder that, even with his surprising +agility, he had sufficient energy to manipulate the keys to the +satisfaction of so competent a witness as yourself."</p> + +<p>"It was too bad; but we made up for it later," asserted the other. +"There was a young girl there who gave us some of Mendelssohn's Songs +without Words. Her expression was simply perfect. I wouldn't have missed +it for all the world; and now that I think of it, in a few days I can +let you see for yourself how splendid it was. We persuaded her to encore +the songs in the dark, and we got a flash-light photograph of two of +them."</p> + +<p>"Oh! then it was not on the piano-forte she gave them?" said the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"Oh no; all labial," returned the genial gentleman.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 366px;"> +<a name='image009' id='image009'></a><img src="images/image009.png" width="366" height="487" alt=""'WEREN'T YOUR EARS LONG ENOUGH?'"" title=""'WEREN'T YOUR EARS LONG ENOUGH?'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'WEREN'T YOUR EARS LONG ENOUGH?'"</span> +</div> + +<p>Here Mr. Whitechoker began to look concerned, and whispered something to +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> School-master, who replied that there were enough others present to +cope with the two parties to the conversation in case of a violent +outbreak.</p> + +<p>"I'd be very glad to see the photographs," replied the Idiot. "Can't I +secure copies of them for my collection? You know I have the complete +rendering of 'Home, Sweet Home' in kodak views, as sung by Patti. They +are simply wonderful, and they prove what has repeatedly been said by +critics, that, in the matter of expression, the superior of Patti has +never been seen."</p> + +<p>"I'll try to get them for you, though I doubt it can be done. The artist +is a very shy young girl, and does not care to have her efforts given +too great a publicity until she is ready to go into music a little more +deeply. She is going to read the 'Moonlight Sonata' to us at our next +concert. You'd better come. I'm told her gestures bring out the +composer's meaning in a manner never as yet equalled."</p> + + + +<p>"I'll be there; thank you," returned the Idiot. "And the next time those +fellows at the club are down for a pool tournament I want you to come up +and hear them play.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>It was extraordinary last night to hear the balls +dropping one by one—click, click, click—as regularly as a metronome, +into the pockets. One of the finest shots, I am sorry to say, I missed."</p> + +<p>"How did it happen?" asked the Bibliomaniac. "Weren't your ears long +enough?"</p> + +<p>"It was a kiss shot, and I couldn't hear it," returned the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"I think you men are crazy," said the School-master, unable to contain +himself any longer.</p> + +<p>"So?" observed the Idiot, calmly. "And how do we show our insanity?"</p> + +<p>"Seeing concerts and hearing games of pool."</p> + +<p>"I take exception to your ruling," returned the Imbiber. "As my friend +the Idiot has frequently remarked, you have the peculiarity of a great +many men in your profession, who think because they never happened to +see or do or hear things as other people do, they may not be seen, done, +or heard at all. I <i>saw</i> the concert I attended last night. Our musical +club has rooms next to a hospital, and we have to give silent concerts +for fear of disturbing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> the patients; but we are all musicians of +sufficient education to understand by a glance of the eye what you would +fail to comprehend with fourteen ears and a microphone."</p> + +<p>"Very well said," put in the Idiot, with a scornful glance at the +School-master. "And I literally heard the pool tournament. I was dining +in a room off the billiard-hall, and every shot that was made, with the +exception of the one I spoke of, was distinctly audible. You gentlemen, +who think you know it all, wouldn't be able to supply a bureau of +information at the rate of five minutes a day for an hour on a holiday. +Let's go up-stairs," he added, turning to the Imbiber, "where we may +discuss our last night's entertainment apart from this atmosphere of +rarefied learning. It makes me faint."</p> + +<p>And the Imbiber, who was with difficulty keeping his lips in proper +form, was glad enough to accept the invitation. "The corks popped to +some purpose last night," he said, later on.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 652px;"> +<a name='image010' id='image010'></a><img src="images/image010.png" width="652" height="399" alt=""'THE CORKS POPPED TO SOME PURPOSE LAST NIGHT'"" title=""'THE CORKS POPPED TO SOME PURPOSE LAST NIGHT'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'THE CORKS POPPED TO SOME PURPOSE LAST NIGHT'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Yes," said the Idiot; "for a conspiracy there's nothing so helpful as +popping corks."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> + + +<p>"When you get through with the fire, Mr. Pedagog," observed the Idiot, +one winter's morning, noticing that the ample proportions of the +School-master served as a screen to shut off the heat from himself and +the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed, "I wish you would let us +have a little of it. Indeed, if you could conveniently spare so little +as one flame for my friend here and myself, we'd be much obliged."</p> + +<p>"It won't hurt you to cool off a little, sir," returned the +School-master, without moving.</p> + +<p>"No, I am not so much afraid of the injury that may be mine as I am +concerned for you. If that fire should melt our only refrigerating +material, I do not know what our good landlady would do. Is it true, as +the Bibliomaniac asserts, that Mrs. Smithers leaves all her milk and +butter in your room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> overnight, relying upon your coolness to keep them +fresh?"</p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 557px;"> +<a name='image011' id='image011'></a><img src="images/image011.png" width="557" height="399" alt=""'IF YOU COULD SPARE SO LITTLE AS ONE FLAME'"" title=""'IF YOU COULD SPARE SO LITTLE AS ONE FLAME'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'IF YOU COULD SPARE SO LITTLE AS ONE FLAME'"</span> +</div> +<p>"I never made any such assertion," said the Bibliomaniac, warmly.</p> + +<p>"I am not used to having my word disputed," returned the Idiot, with a +wink at the genial old gentleman.</p> + +<p>"But I never said it, and I defy you to prove that I said it," returned +the Bibliomaniac, hotly.</p> + +<p>"You forget, sir," said the Idiot, coolly, "that you are the one who +disputes my assertion. That casts the burden of proof on your shoulders. +Of course if you can prove that you never said anything of the sort, I +withdraw; but if you cannot adduce proofs, you, having doubted my word, +and publicly at that, need not feel hurt if I decline to accept all that +you say as gospel."</p> + +<p>"You show ridiculous heat," said the School-master.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," returned the Idiot, gracefully. "And that brings us back to +the original proposition that you would do well to show a little +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, gentlemen," said Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> Smithers, entering the room at +this moment. "It's a bright, fresh morning."</p> + +<p>"Like yourself," said the School-master, gallantly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," added the Idiot, with a glance at the clock, which registered +8.45—forty-five minutes after the breakfast hour—"very like Mrs. +Smithers—rather advanced."</p> + +<p>To this the landlady paid no attention; but the School-master could not +refrain from saying,</p> + +<p>"Advanced, and therefore not backward, like some persons I might name."</p> + +<p>"Very clever," retorted the Idiot, "and really worth rewarding. Mrs. +Smithers, you ought to give Mr. Pedagog a receipt in full for the past +six months."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Pedagog," returned the landlady, severely, "is one of the gentlemen +who always have their receipts for the past six months."</p> + +<p>"Which betrays a very saving disposition," accorded the Idiot. "I wish I +had all I'd received for six months. I'd be a rich man."</p> + + + +<p>"Would you, now?" queried the Bibliomaniac. "That is interesting enough. +How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> men's ideas differ on the subject of wealth! Here is the Idiot +would consider himself rich with $150 in his pocket—"</p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 407px;"> +<a name='image012' id='image012'></a><img src="images/image012.png" width="407" height="639" alt="THE SCHOOL-MASTER AS A COOLER" title="THE SCHOOL-MASTER AS A COOLER" /> +<span class="caption">THE SCHOOL-MASTER AS A COOLER</span> +</div> +<p>"Do you think he gets as much as that?" put in the School-master, +viciously. "Five dollars a week is rather high pay for one of his—"</p> + +<p>"Very high indeed," agreed the Idiot. "I wish I got that much. I might +be able to hire a two-legged encyclopædia to tell me everything, and +have over $4.75 a week left to spend on opera, dress, and the poor but +honest board Mrs. Smithers provides, if my salary was up to the $5 mark; +but the trouble is men do not make the fabulous fortunes nowadays with +the ease with which you, Mr. Pedagog, made yours. There are, no doubt, +more and greater opportunities to-day than there were in the olden time, +but there are also more men trying to take advantage of them. Labor in +the business world is badly watered. The colleges are turning out more +men in a week nowadays than the whole country turned out in a year forty +years ago, and the quality is so poor that there has been a general +reduction of wages all along the line. Where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> does the struggler for +existence come in when he has to compete with the college-bred youth +who, for fear of not getting employment anywhere, is willing to work for +nothing? People are not willing to pay for what they can get for +nothing."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear from your lips so complete an admission," said the +School-master, "that education is downing ignorance."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to know of your gladness," returned the Idiot. "I didn't +quite say that education was downing ignorance. I plead guilty to the +charge of holding the belief that unskilled omniscience interferes very +materially with skilled sciolism in skilled sciolism's efforts to make a +living."</p> + +<p>"Then you admit your own superficiality?" asked the School-master, +somewhat surprised by the Idiot's command of syllables.</p> + +<p>"I admit that I do not know it all," returned the Idiot. "I prefer to go +through life feeling that there is yet something for me to learn. It +seems to me far better to admit this voluntarily than to have it forced +home upon me by circumstances, as happened in the case of a college +graduate I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> know, who speculated on Wall Street, and lost the hundred +dollars that were subsequently put to a good use by the uneducated me."</p> + +<p>"From which you deduce that ignorance is better than education?" queried +the School-master, scornfully.</p> + +<p>"For an omniscient," returned the Idiot, "you are singularly +near-sighted. I have made no such deduction. I arrive at the conclusion, +however, that in the chase for the gilded shekel the education of +experience is better than the coddling of Alma Mater. In the +satisfaction—the personal satisfaction—one derives from a liberal +education, I admit that the sons of Alma Mater are the better off. I +never could hope to be so self-satisfied, for instance, as you are."</p> + + + +<p>"No," observed the School-master, "you cannot raise grapes on a thistle +farm. Any unbiassed observer looking around this table," he added, "and +noting Mr. Whitechoker, a graduate of Yale; the Bibliomaniac, a son of +dear old Harvard; the Doctor, an honor man of Williams; our legal friend +here, a graduate of Columbia<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>—to say nothing of myself, who was +graduated with honors at Amherst—any unbiassed observer seeing these, I +say, and then seeing you, wouldn't take very long to make up his mind as +to whether a man is better off or not for having had a collegiate +training."</p> + +<p>"There I must again dispute your assertion," returned the Idiot. "The +unbiassed person of whom you speak would say, 'Here is this gray-haired +Amherst man, this book-loving Cambridge boy of fifty-seven years of age, +the reverend graduate of Yale, class of '55, and the other two learned +gentlemen of forty-nine summers each, and this poor ignoramus of an +Idiot, whose only virtue is his modesty, all in the same box.' And then +he would ask himself, 'In what way have these sons of Amherst, Yale, +Harvard, and so forth, the better of the unassuming Idiot?'"</p> + +<p>"The same box?" said the Bibliomaniac. "What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"Just what I say," returned the Idiot. "The same box. All boarding, all +eschewing luxuries of necessity, all paying their bills with difficulty, +all sparsely clothed; in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> reality, all keeping Lent the year through. +'Verily,' he would say, 'the Idiot has the best of it, for he is +young.'"</p> + +<p>And leaving them chewing the cud of reflection, the Idiot departed.</p> + +<p>"I thought they were going to land you that time," said the genial +gentleman who occasionally imbibed, later; "but when I heard you use the +word 'sciolism,' I knew you were all right. Where did you get it?"</p> + +<p>"My chief got it off on me at the office the other day. I happened in a +mad moment to try to unload some of my original observations on him +apropos of my getting to the office two hours late, in which it was my +endeavor to prove to him that the truly safe and conservative man was +always slow, and so apt to turn up late on occasions. He hopped about +the office for a minute or two, and then he informed me that I was an +18-karat sciolist. I didn't know what he meant, and so I looked it up."</p> + +<p>"And what did he mean?"</p> + +<p>"He meant that I took the cake for superficiality, and I guess he was +right," replied the Idiot, with a smile that was not altogether +mirthful.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> + + +<p>"Good-morning!" said the Idiot, cheerfully, as he entered the +dining-room.</p> + +<p>To this remark no one but the landlady vouchsafed a reply. "I don't +think it is," she said, shortly. "It's raining too hard to be a very +good morning."</p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 267px;"> +<a name='image013' id='image013'></a><img src="images/image013.png" width="267" height="657" alt="BOBBO" title="BOBBO" /> +<span class="caption">BOBBO</span> +</div> +<p>"That reminds me," observed the Idiot, taking his seat and helping +himself copiously to the hominy. "A friend of mine on one of the +newspapers is preparing an article on the 'Antiquity of Modern Humor.' +With your kind permission, Mrs. Smithers, I'll take down your remark and +hand it over to Mr. Scribuler as a specimen of the modern antique joke. +You may not be aware of the fact, but that jest is to be found in the +rare first edition of the <i>Tales of Bobbo</i>, an Italian humorist, who +stole everything he wrote from the Greeks."</p> + + +<p>"So?" queried the Bibliomaniac. "I never heard of Bobbo, though I had, +before the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> auction sale of my library, a choice copy of the <i>Tales of +Poggio</i>, bound in full crushed Levant morocco, with gilt edges, and one +or two other Italian <i>Joe Millers</i> in tree calf. I cannot at this moment +recall their names."</p> + +<p>"At what period did Bobbo live?" inquired the School-master.</p> + +<p>"I don't exactly remember," returned the Idiot, assisting the last +potato on the table over to his plate. "I don't know exactly. It was +subsequent to <span class="smcap">B.C.</span>, I think, although I may be wrong. If it was not, you +may rest assured it was prior to <span class="smcap">B.C.</span>"</p> + +<p>"Do you happen to know," queried the Bibliomaniac, "the exact date of +this rare first edition of which you speak?"</p> + +<p>"No; no one knows that," returned the Idiot. "And for a very good +reason. It was printed before dates were invented."</p> + +<p>The silence which followed this bit of information from the Idiot was +almost insulting in its intensity. It was a silence that spoke, and what +it said was that the Idiot's idiocy was colossal, and he, accepting the +stillness as a tribute, smiled sweetly.</p> + +<p>"What do you think, Mr. Whitechoker," he said, when he thought the time +was ripe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> for renewing the conversation—"what do you think of the +doctrine that every day will be Sunday by-and-by?"</p> + +<p>"I have only to say, sir," returned the Dominie, pouring a little hot +water into his milk, which was a bit too strong for him, "that I am a +firm believer in the occurrence of a period when Sunday will be to all +practical purposes perpetual."</p> + +<p>"That is my belief, too," observed the School-master. "But it will be +ruinous to our good landlady to provide us with one of her exceptionally +fine Sunday breakfasts every morning."</p> + + +<p>"Thank you, Mr. Pedagog," returned Mrs. Smithers, with a smile. "Can't I +give you another cup of coffee?"</p> + +<p>"You may," returned the School-master, pained at the lady's grammar, but +too courteous to call attention to it save by the emphasis with which he +spoke the word "may."</p> + +<p>"That's one view to take of it," said the Idiot. "But in case we got a +Sunday breakfast every day in the week, we, on the other hand, would get +approximately what we pay for. You may fill my cup too, Mrs. Smithers."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The coffee is all gone," returned the landlady, with a snap.</p> + +<p>"Then, Mary," said the Idiot, gracefully, turning to the maid, "you may +give me a glass of ice-water. It is quite as warm, after all, as the +coffee, and not quite so weak. A perpetual Sunday, though, would have +its drawbacks," he added, unconscious of the venomous glances of the +landlady. "You, Mr. Whitechoker, for instance, would be preaching all +the time, and in consequence would soon break down. Then the effect upon +our eyes from habitually reading the Sunday newspapers day after day +would be extremely bad; nor must we forget that an eternity of Sundays +means the elimination 'from our midst,' as the novelists say, of +baseball, of circuses, of horse-racing, and other necessities of life, +unless we are prepared to cast over the Puritanical view of Sunday which +now prevails. It would substitute Dr. Watts for 'Annie Rooney.' We +should lose 'Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay' entirely, which is a point in its +favor."</p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 400px;"> +<a name='image012a' id='image012a'></a><img src="images/image012a.png" width="400" height="582" alt=""'READING THE SUNDAY NEWSPAPERS'"" title=""'READING THE SUNDAY NEWSPAPERS'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'READING THE SUNDAY NEWSPAPERS'"</span> +</div> +<p>"I don't know about that," said the genial old gentleman. "I rather like +that song."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear me sing it?" asked the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," returned the genial old gentleman, hastily. "Perhaps you +are right, after all."</p> + + + +<p>The Idiot smiled, and resumed: "Our shops would be perpetually closed, +and an enormous loss to the shopkeepers would be sure to follow. Mr. +Pedagog's theory that we should have Sunday breakfasts every day is not +tenable, for the reason that with a perpetual day of rest agriculture +would die out, food products would be killed off<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> by unpulled weeds; in +fact, we should go back to that really unfortunate period when women +were without dress-makers, and man's chief object in life was to +christen animals as he met them, and to abstain from apples, wisdom, and +full dress."</p> + +<p>"The Idiot is right," said the Bibliomaniac. "It would not be a very +good thing for the world if every day were Sunday. Wash-day is a +necessity of life. I am willing to admit this, in the face of the fact +that wash-day meals are invariably atrocious. Contracts would be void, +as a rule, because Sunday is a <i>dies non</i>."</p> + +<p>"A what?" asked the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"A non-existent day in a business sense," put in the School-master.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said the landlady, scornfully. "Any person who knows +anything knows that."</p> + +<p>"Then, madame," returned the Idiot, rising from his chair, and putting a +handful of sweet crackers in his pocket—"then I must put in a claim for +$104 from you, having been charged, at the rate of one dollar a day for +104 <i>dies nons</i> in the two years I have been with you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Indeed!" returned the lady, sharply. "Very well. And I shall put in a +counterclaim for the lunches you carry away from breakfast every morning +in your pockets."</p> + +<p>"In that event we'll call it off, madame," returned the Idiot, as with a +courtly bow and a pleasant smile he left the room.</p> + +<p>"Well, I call him 'off,'" was all the landlady could say, as the other +guests took their departure.</p> + +<p>And of course the School-master agreed with her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> + + +<p>"Our streets appear to be as far from perfect as ever," said the +Bibliomaniac with a sigh, as he looked out through the window at the +great pools of water that gathered in the basins made by the sinking of +the Belgian blocks. "We'd better go back to the cowpaths of our +fathers."</p> + +<p>"There is a great deal in what you say," observed the School-master. +"The cowpath has all the solidity of mother earth, and none of the +distracting noises we get from the pavements that obtain to-day. It is +porous and absorbs the moisture. The Belgian pavement is leaky, and lets +it run into our cellars. We might do far worse than to go back—"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me for having an opinion," said the Idiot, "but the man of +enterprise can't afford to indulge in the luxury of the somnolent +cowpath. It is too quiet. It conduces to sleep, which is a luxury +business<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> men cannot afford to indulge in too freely. Man must be up and +doing. The prosperity of a great city is to my mind directly due to its +noise and clatter, which effectually put a stop to napping, and keep men +at all times wide awake."</p> + +<p>"This is a Welsh-rabbit idea, I fancy," said the School-master, quietly. +He had overheard the Idiot's confidences, as revealed to the genial +Imbiber, regarding the sources of some of his ideas.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," returned the Idiot. "These ideas are beef—not +Welsh-rabbit. They are the result of much thought. If you will put your +mind on the subject, you will see for yourself that there is more in my +theory than there is in yours. The prosperity of a locality is the +greater as the noise in its vicinity increases. It is in the quiet +neighborhood that man stagnates. Where do we find great business houses? +Where do we find great fortunes made? Where do we find the busy bees who +make the honey that enables posterity to get into Society and do +nothing? Do we pick up our millions on the cowpath? I guess not. Do we +erect our most princely business houses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> along the roads laid out by our +bovine sister? I think not. Does the man who goes from the towpath to +the White House take the short cut? I fancy not. He goes over the block +pavement. He seeks the home of the noisy, clattering street before he +lands in the shoes of Washington. The man who sticks to the cowpath may +be able to drink milk, but he never wears diamonds."</p> + +<p>"All that you say is very true, but it is not based on any fundamental +principle. It is so because it happens to be so," returned the +School-master. "If it were man's habit to have the streets laid out on +the old cowpath principle in his cities he would be quite as energetic, +quite as prosperous, as he is now."</p> + +<p>"No fundamental principle involved? There is the fundamental principle +of all business success involved," said the Idiot, warming up to his +subject. "What is the basic quality in the good business man? Alertness. +What is 'alertness?' Wide-awakeishness. In this town it is impossible +for a man to sleep after a stated hour, and for no other reason than +that the clatter of the pavements prevents him. As a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> promoter of +alertness, where is your cowpath? The cowpaths of the Catskills, and we +all know the mountains are riddled by 'em, didn't keep Rip Van Winkle +awake, and I'll wager Mr. Whitechoker here a year's board that there +isn't a man in his congregation who can sleep a half-hour—much less +twenty years—with Broadway within hearing distance.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Mr. Pedagog," he continued, "it is the man from the cowpath +who gets buncoed. It's the man from the cowpath who can't make a living +even out of what he calls his 'New York Store.' It is the man from the +cowpath who rejoices because he can sell ten dollars' worth of +sheep's-wool for five dollars, and is happy when he goes to meeting +dressed up in a four-dollar suit of clothes that has cost him twenty."</p> + +<p>"Your theory, my young friend," observed the School-master, "is as +fragile as this cup"—tapping his coffee-cup. "The countryman of whom +you speak is up and doing long before you or I or your successful +merchant, who has waxed great on noise as you put it, is awake. If the +early bird<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> catches the worm, what becomes of your theory?"</p> + +<p>"The early bird does get the bait," replied the Idiot. "But he does not +catch the fish, and I'll offer the board another wager that the Belgian +block merchant is wider awake at 8 <span class="smcap">A.M.</span>, when he first opens his eyes, +than his suburban brother who gets up at five is all day. It's the +extent to which the eyes are opened that counts, and as for your +statement that the fact that prosperity and noisy streets go hand in +hand is true only because it happens to be so, that is an argument which +may be applied to any truth in existence. I am because I happen to be, +not because I am. You are what you are because you are, because if you +were not, you would not be what you are."</p> + +<p>"Your logic is delightful," said the School-master, scornfully.</p> + +<p>"I strive to please," replied the Idiot. "But I do agree with the +Bibliomaniac that our streets are far from perfection," he added. "In my +opinion they should be laid in strata. On the ground-floor should be the +sewers and telegraph pipes; above<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> this should be the water-mains, then +a layer for trucks, then a broad stratum for carriages, above which +should be a promenade for pedestrians. The promenade for pedestrians +should be divided into four sections—one for persons of leisure, one +for those in a hurry, one for peddlers, and one for beggars."</p> + +<p>"Highly original," said the Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"And so cheap," added the School-master.</p> + +<p>"In no part of the world," said the Idiot, in response to the last +comment, "do we get something for nothing. Of course this scheme would +be costly, but it would increase prosperity—"</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" laughed the School-master, satirically.</p> + +<p>"Laugh away, but you cannot gainsay my point. Our prosperity would +increase, for we should not be always excavating to get at our pipes; +our surface cars with a clear track would gain for us rapid transit, our +truck-drivers would not be subjected to the temptations of stopping by +the way-side to overturn a coupé, or to run down a pedestrian; our fine +equipages would in con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>sequence need fewer repairs; and as for the +pedestrians, the beggars, if relegated to themselves, would be forced +out of business as would also the street-peddlers. The men in a hurry +would not be delayed by loungers, beggars, and peddlers, and the +loungers would derive inestimable benefit from the arrangement in the +saving of wear and tear on their clothes and minds by contact with the +busy world."</p> + +<p>"It would be delightful," acceded the School-master, "particularly on +Sundays, when they were all loungers."</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the Idiot. "It would be delightful then, especially in +summer, when covered with an awning to shield promenaders from the sun."</p> + +<p>Mr. Pedagog sighed, and the Bibliomaniac, wearily declining a second cup +of coffee, left the table with the Doctor, earnestly discussing with +that worthy gentleman the causes of weakmindedness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> + + +<p>"There's a friend of mine up near Riverdale," said the Idiot, as he +unfolded his napkin and let his bill flutter from it to the floor, +"who's tried to make a name for himself in literature."</p> + +<p>"What's his name?" asked the Bibliomaniac, interested at once.</p> + +<p>"That's just the trouble. He hasn't made it yet," replied the Idiot. "He +hasn't succeeded in his courtship of the Muse, and beyond himself and a +few friends his name is utterly unknown."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 636px;"> +<a name='image014' id='image014'></a><img src="images/image014.png" width="636" height="426" alt="WOOING THE MUSE" title="WOOING THE MUSE" /> +<span class="caption">WOOING THE MUSE</span> +</div> + +<p>"What work has he tried?" queried the School-master, pouring +unadmonished two portions of skimmed milk over his oatmeal.</p> + +<p>"A little of everything. First he wrote a novel. It had an immense +circulation, and he only lost $300 on it. All of his friends took a +copy—I've got one that he gave me—and I believe two hundred +newspapers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> were fortunate enough to secure the book for review. His +father bought two, and tried to obtain the balance of the edition, but +didn't have enough money. That was gratifying, but gratification is more +apt to deplete than to strengthen a bank account."</p> + +<p>"I had not expected so extraordinarily wise an observation from one so +unusually unwise," said the School-master, coldly.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," returned the Idiot. "But I think your remark is rather +contradictory. You would naturally expect wise observations from the +unusually unwise; that is, if your teaching that the expression +'unusually unwise' is but another form of the expression 'usually wise' +is correct. But, as I was saying, when the genial instructor of youth +interrupted me with his flattery," continued the Idiot, "gratification +is gratifying but not filling, so my friend concluded that he had better +give up novel-writing and try jokes. He kept at that a year, and managed +to clear his postage-stamps. His jokes were good, but too classic for +the tastes of the editors. Editors are peculiar. They have no respect +for age—particularly in the matter of jests. Some of my friend's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +jokes had seemed good enough for Plutarch to print when he had a +publisher at his mercy, but they didn't seem to suit the high and mighty +products of this age who sit in judgment on such things in the +comic-paper offices. So he gave up jokes."</p> + + + +<p>"Does he still know you?" asked the landlady.</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame," observed the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"Then he hasn't given up all jokes," she retorted, with fine scorn.</p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 401px;"> +<a name='image015' id='image015'></a><img src="images/image015.png" width="401" height="661" alt=""'HE GAVE UP JOKES'"" title=""'HE GAVE UP JOKES'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'HE GAVE UP JOKES'"</span> +</div> +<p>"Tee-he-hee!" laughed the School-master. "Pretty good, Mrs. +Smithers—pretty good."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Idiot. "That is good, and, by Jove! it differs from your +butter, Mrs. Smithers, because it's entirely fresh. It's good enough to +print, and I don't think the butter is."</p> + +<p>"What did your friend do next?" asked Mr. Whitechoker.</p> + +<p>"He was employed by a funeral director in Philadelphia to write obituary +verses for memorial cards."</p> + +<p>"And was he successful?"</p> + +<p>"For a time; but he lost his position because of an error made by a +careless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> compositor in a marble-yard. He had written,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Here lies the hero of a hundred fights—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Approximated he a perfect man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fought for country and his country's rights,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in the hottest battles led the van.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Fine in sentiment and in execution!" observed Mr. Whitechoker.</p> + +<p>"Truly so," returned the Idiot. "But when the compositor in the +marble-yard got it engraved on the monument, my friend was away, and +when the army post that was to pay the bill received the monument, the +quatrain read,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Here lies the hero of a hundred flights—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Approximated he a perfect one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fought his country and his country's rights,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in the hottest battles led the run.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Awful!" ejaculated the Minister.</p> + +<p>"Dreadful!" said the landlady, forgetting to be sarcastic.</p> + +<p>"What happened?" asked the School-master.</p> + +<p>"He was bounced, of course, without a cent of pay, and the company +failed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> next week, so he couldn't make anything by suing for what +they owed him."</p> + +<p>"Mighty hard luck," said the Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"Very; but there was one bright side to the case," observed the Idiot. +"He managed to sell both versions of the quatrain afterwards for five +dollars. He sold the original one to a religious weekly for a dollar, +and got four dollars for the other one from a comic paper. Then he wrote +an anecdote about the whole thing for a Sunday newspaper, and got three +dollars more out of it."</p> + +<p>"And what is your friend doing now?" asked the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's making a mint of money now, but no name."</p> + +<p>"In literature?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He writes advertisements on salary," returned the Idiot. "He is +writing now a recommendation of tooth-powder in Indian dialect."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't he try writing an epic?" said the Bibliomaniac.</p> + + + +<p>"Because," replied the Idiot, "the one aim of his life has been to be +original, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> he couldn't reconcile that with epic poetry."</p> + +<p>At which remark the landlady stooped over, and recovering the Idiot's +bill from under the table, called the maid, and ostentatiously requested +her to hand it to the Idiot. He, taking a cigarette from his pocket, +thanked the maid for the attention, and rolling the slip into a taper, +thoughtfully stuck one end of it into the alcohol light under the +coffee-pot, and lighting the cigarette with it, walked nonchalantly from +the room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> + + +<p>"I've just been reading a book," began the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"I thought you looked rather pale," said the School-master.</p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 393px;"> +<a name='image016' id='image016'></a><img src="images/image016.png" width="393" height="566" alt=""'A LITTLE GARDEN OF MY OWN, WHERE I COULD RAISE AN +OCCASIONAL CAN OF TOMATOES'"" title=""'A LITTLE GARDEN OF MY OWN, WHERE I COULD RAISE AN +OCCASIONAL CAN OF TOMATOES'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'A LITTLE GARDEN OF MY OWN, WHERE I COULD RAISE AN +OCCASIONAL CAN OF TOMATOES'"</span> +</div> +<p>"Yes," returned the Idiot, cheerfully, "it made me feel pale. It was +about the pleasures of country life; and when I contrasted rural +blessedness as it was there depicted with urban life as we live it, I +felt as if my youth were being thrown away. I still feel as if I were +wasting my sweetness on the desert air."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you move?" queried the Bibliomaniac, suggestively.</p> + +<p>"If I were purely selfish I should do so at once, but I am, like my good +friend Mr. Whitechoker, a slave to duty. I deem it my duty to stay here +to keep the School-master fully informed in the various branches of +knowledge which are day by day opened up, many of which seem to be so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +far beyond the reach of one of his conservative habits; to assist Mr. +Whitechoker in his crusades against vice at this table and elsewhere; to +give the Bibliomaniac the benefit of my advice in regard to those +precious little tomes he no longer buys—to make life worth the living +for all of you, to say nothing of enabling Mrs. Smithers to keep up the +extraordinarily high standard of this house by means of the hard-earned +stipend I pay to her every Monday morning."</p> + +<p>"Every Monday?" queried the School-master.</p> + +<p>"Every Monday," returned the Idiot. "That is, of course, every Monday +that I pay. The things one gets to eat in the country, the air one +breathes, the utter freedom from restraint, the thousand and more things +one enjoys in the suburbs that are not attainable here—it is these that +make my heart yearn for the open."</p> + + + +<p>"Well, it's all rot," said the School-master, impatiently. "Country life +is ideal only in books. Books do not tell of running for trains through +blinding snowstorms; writers do not expatiate on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> delights of +waking on cold winter nights and finding your piano and parlor furniture +afloat because of bursted pipes, with the plumber, like Sheridan at +Winchester, twenty miles away. They are dumb on the subject of the +ecstasy one feels when pushing a twenty-pound lawn-mower up and down a +weed patch at the end of a wearisome hot summer's day. They are +silent—"</p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 328px;"> +<a name='image017' id='image017'></a><img src="images/image017.png" width="328" height="492" alt=""'A HIND-QUARTER OF LAMB GAMBOLLING ABOUT ITS NATIVE +HEATH'"" title=""'A HIND-QUARTER OF LAMB GAMBOLLING ABOUT ITS NATIVE +HEATH'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'A HIND-QUARTER OF LAMB GAMBOLLING ABOUT ITS NATIVE +HEATH'"</span> +</div> +<p>"Don't get excited, Mr. Pedagog, please," interrupted the Idiot. "I am +not contemplating leaving you and Mrs. Smithers, but I do pine for a +little garden of my own, where I could raise an occasional can of +tomatoes. I dream sometimes of getting milk fresh from the pump, instead +of twenty-four hours after it has been drawn, as we do here. In my +musings it seems to me to be almost idyllic to have known a spring +chicken in his infancy; to have watched a hind-quarter of lamb +gambolling about its native heath before its muscles became adamant, and +before chopped-up celery tops steeped in vinegar were poured upon it in +the hope of hypnotizing boarders into the belief that spring lamb and +mint-sauce lay before them. What care I how hard it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> to rise every +morning before six in winter to thaw out the boiler, so long as the +night coming finds me seated in the genial glow of the gas log! What man +is he that would complain of having to bale out his cellar every week, +if, on the other hand, that cellar gains thereby a fertility that keeps +its floor sheeny, soft, and green—an interior tennis-court—from spring +to spring, causing the gladsome click of the lawn-mower to be heard +within its walls all through the still watches of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>the winter day? I +tell you, sir, it is the life to lead, that of our rural brother. I do +not believe that in this whole vast city there is a cellar like that—an +in-door garden-patch, as it were."</p> + + + +<p>"No," returned the Doctor; "and it is a good thing there isn't. There is +enough sickness in the world without bringing any of your <i>rus</i> ideas +<i>in urbe</i>. I've lived in the country, sir, and I assure you it is not +what it is written up to be. Country life is misery, melancholy, and +malaria."</p> + +<p>"You must have struck a profitable section, Doctor," returned the Idiot, +taking possession of three steaming buckwheat cakes to the dismay of Mr. +Whitechoker, who was about to reach out for them himself. "And I should +have supposed that your good business sense would have restrained you +from leaving."</p> + +<p>"Then the countryman is poor—always poor," continued the Doctor, +ignoring the Idiot's sarcastic comments.</p> + +<p>"Ah! that accounts for it," observed the Idiot. "I see why you did not +stay; for what shall it profit a man to save a patient if practice, like +virtue, is to be its own reward?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Your suggestion, sir," retorted the Doctor, "betrays an unhealthy frame +of mind."</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Doctor," returned the Idiot; "but please do not +diagnose the case any further. I can't afford an expert opinion as to my +mental condition. But to return to our subject: you two gentlemen appear +to have had unhappy experiences in country life—quite different from +those of a friend of mine who owns a farm. He doesn't have to run for +trains; he is independent of plumbers, because the only pipes in his +house are for smoking purposes. The farm produces corn enough to keep +his family supplied all the year round and to sell a balance at a +profit. Oats and wheat are harvested to an extent which keeps the cattle +and declares dividends besides. He never suffers from the cold or heat. +He is never afraid of losing his house or barns by fire, because the +whole fire department of the neighboring village is, to a man, in love +with the house-keeper's daughter, and is always on hand in force. The +chickens are the envy and pride of the county, and there are so many of +them that they have to take turns in going to roost. The pigs are the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +most intelligent of their kind, and are so happy they never grunt. In +fact, everything is lovely and cheap, the only thing that hangs high +being the goose."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 377px;"> +<a name='image018' id='image018'></a><img src="images/image018.png" width="377" height="342" alt=""'THE GLADSOME CLICK OF THE LAWN-MOWER'"" title=""'THE GLADSOME CLICK OF THE LAWN-MOWER'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'THE GLADSOME CLICK OF THE LAWN-MOWER'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Quite an ideal, no doubt," put in the School-master, scornfully. "I +suppose his is one of those model farms with steam-pipes under the walks +to melt the snow in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> winter, and of course there is a vein of coal +growing right up into his furnace ready to be lit."</p> + +<p>"Yes," observed the Bibliomaniac; "and no doubt the chickens lay eggs in +every style—poached, fried, scrambled, and boiled. The weeds in the +garden grow so fast, I suppose, that they pull themselves up by the +roots; and if there is anything left undone at the end of the day I +presume tramps in dress suits, and courtly in manner, spring out of the +ground and finish up for him."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet he's not on good terms with his neighbors if he has everything +you speak of in such perfection. These farmers get frightfully jealous +of each other," asserted the Doctor, with a positiveness that seemed to +be born of experience.</p> + +<p>"He never quarrelled with one of them in his life," returned the Idiot. +"He doesn't know them well enough to quarrel with them; in fact, I doubt +if he ever sees them at all. He's very exclusive."</p> + +<p>"Of course he is a born farmer to get everything the way he has it," +suggested Mrs. Smithers.</p> + +<p>"No, he isn't. He's a broker," said the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> Idiot, "and a very successful +one. I see him on the street every day."</p> + +<p>"Does he employ a man to run the farm?" asked the Clergyman.</p> + +<p>"No," returned the Idiot, "he has too much sense and too few dollars to +do any such foolish thing as that."</p> + +<p>"It must be one of those self-winding stock farms," put in the +School-master, scornfully. "But I don't see how he can be a successful +broker and make money off his farm at the same time. Your statements do +not agree, either. You said he never had to run for trains."</p> + +<p>"Well, he never has," returned the Idiot, calmly. "He never goes near +his farm. He doesn't have to. It's leased to the husband of the +house-keeper whose daughter has a crush on the fire department. He takes +his pay in produce, and gets more than if he took it in cash on the +basis of the New York vegetable market."</p> + +<p>"Then you have got us into an argument about country life that ends—" +began the School-master, indignantly.</p> + +<p>"That ends where it leaves off," retorted the Idiot, departing with a +smile on his lips.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He's an Idiot from Idaho," asserted the Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I'm afraid idiocy is a little contagious," observed the +Doctor, with a grin and sidelong glance at the School-master.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 496px;"> +<a name='image019' id='image019'></a><img src="images/image019.png" width="496" height="357" alt=""'YOU DON'T MEAN TO SAY THAT YOU WRITE FOR THE +PAPERS?'"" title=""'YOU DON'T MEAN TO SAY THAT YOU WRITE FOR THE +PAPERS?'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'YOU DON'T MEAN TO SAY THAT YOU WRITE FOR THE +PAPERS?'"</span></div> + +<p>"Good-morning, gentlemen," said the Idiot, as he seated himself at the +breakfast-table and glanced over his mail.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning yourself," returned the Poet. "You have an unusually large +number of letters this morning. All checks, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the Idiot. "All checks of one kind or another. Mostly +checks on ambition—otherwise, rejections from my friends the editors."</p> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that you write for the papers?" put in the +School-master, with an incredulous smile.</p> + +<p>"I try to," returned the Idiot, meekly. "If the papers don't take 'em, I +find them useful in curing my genial friend who imbibes of insomnia."</p> + +<p>"What do you write—advertisements?" queried the Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"No. Advertisement writing is an art to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> which I dare not aspire. It's +too great a tax on the brain," replied the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"Tax on what?" asked the Doctor. He was going to squelch the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"The brain," returned the latter, not ready to be squelched. "It's a +little thing people use to think with, Doctor. I'd advise you to get +one." Then he added, "I write poems and foreign letters mostly."</p> + +<p>"I did not know that you had ever been abroad," said the clergyman.</p> + +<p>"I never have," returned the Idiot.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 749px;"> +<a name='image021' id='image021'></a><img src="images/image021.png" width="749" height="463" alt="CURING INSOMNIA" title="CURING INSOMNIA" /> +<span class="caption">CURING INSOMNIA</span> +</div> +<p>"Then how, may I ask," said Mr. Whitechoker, severely, "how can you +write foreign letters?"</p> + +<p>"With my stub pen, of course," replied the Idiot. "How did you +suppose—with an oyster-knife?"</p> + +<p>The clergyman sighed.</p> + +<p>"I should like to hear some of your poems," said the Poet.</p> + +<p>"Very well," returned the Idiot. "Here's one that has just returned from +the <i>Bengal Monthly</i>. It's about a writer who died some years ago. +Shakespeare's his name. You've heard of Shakespeare, haven't you, Mr. +Pedagog?" he added.</p> + +<p>Then, as there was no answer, he read the verse, which was as follows:</p> + +<blockquote><p style='margin-left:8em;font-weight:bold;'>SETTLED.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! Shakespeare wrote the plays—'tis clear to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lord Bacon's claim's condemned before the bar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'd not have penned, "what fools these mortals be!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But—more correct—"what fools these mortals are!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +</blockquote> + +<p>"That's not bad," said the Poet.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," returned the Idiot. "I wish you were an editor. I wrote that +last spring,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> and it has been coming back to me at the rate of once a +week ever since."</p> + +<p>"It is too short," said the Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"It's an epigram," said the Idiot. "How many yards long do you think +epigrams should be?"</p> + +<p>The Bibliomaniac scorned to reply.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 573px;"> +<a name='image020' id='image020'></a><img src="images/image020.png" width="573" height="375" alt=""'WE WOOED THE SELF-SAME MAID'"" title=""'WE WOOED THE SELF-SAME MAID'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'WE WOOED THE SELF-SAME MAID'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"I agree with the Bibliomaniac," said the School-master. "It is too +short. People want greater quantity."</p> + +<p>"Well, here is quantity for you," said the Idiot. "Quantity as she is +not wanted by nine comic papers I wot of. This poem is called:</p> + +<blockquote><p style='margin-left:8em;font-weight:bold;'>"THE TURNING OF THE WORM.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'How hard my fate perhaps you'll gather in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My dearest reader, when I tell you that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I entered into this fair world a twin—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The one was spare enough, the other fat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'I was, of course, the lean one of the two,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The homelier as well, and consequently<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ecstasy o'er Jim my parents flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And good of me was spoken accident'ly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'As boys, we went to school, and Jim, of course,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was e'er his teacher's favorite, and ranked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the lads renowned for moral force,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilst I was every day right soundly spanked.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Jim had an angel face, but there he stopped.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I never knew a lad who'd sin so oft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look so like a branch of heaven lopped<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From off the parent trunk that grows aloft.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'I seemed an imp—indeed 'twas often said<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I resembled much Beelzebub.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My face was freckled and my hair was red—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The kind of looking boy that men call scrub.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Kind deeds, however, were my constant thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In everything I did the best I could;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I said my prayers thrice daily, and I sought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all my ways to do the right and good.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'On Saturdays I'd do my Monday's sums,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Jim would spend the day in search of fun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'd sneak away and steal the neighbors' plums,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, strange to say, to earth was never run.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Whilst I, when study-time was haply through,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would seek my brother in the neighbor's orchard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would find the neighbor there with anger blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as the thieving culprit would be tortured.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The sums I'd done he'd steal, this lad forsaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then change my work, so that a paltry four<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would be my mark, whilst he had overtaken<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The maximum and all the prizes bore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'In later years we loved the self-same maid;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We sent her little presents, sweets, bouquets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For which, alas! 'twas I that always paid;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Jim the maid now honors and obeys.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'We entered politics—in different roles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And for a minor office each did run.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas I was left—left badly at the polls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because of fishy things that Jim had done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'When Jim went into business and failed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I signed his notes and freed him from the strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bankruptcy and ruin hath entailed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On them that lead a queer financial life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Then, penniless, I learned that Jim had set<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aside before his failure—hard to tell!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A half a million dollars on his pet—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His Mrs. Jim—the former lovely Nell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'That wearied me of Jim. It may be right<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For one to bear another's cross, but I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quite fail to see it in its proper light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If that's the rule man should be guided by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'And since a fate perverse has had the wit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To mix us up so that the one's deserts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the shoulders of the other sit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No matter how the other one it hurts,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'I am resolved to take some mortal's life;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just when, or where, or how, I do not reck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So long as law will end this horrid strife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And twist my dear twin brother's sinful neck.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +</blockquote> + +<p>"There," said the Idiot, putting down the manuscript. "How's that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like it," said Mr. Whitechoker. "It is immoral and vindictive. +You should accept the hardships of life, no matter how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> unjust. The +conclusion of your poem horrifies me, sir. I—"</p> + + + +<p>"Have you tried your hand at dialect poetry?" asked the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"Yes; once," said the Idiot. "I sent it to the <i>Great Western Weekly</i>. +Oh yes. Here it is. Sent back with thanks. It's an octette written in +cigar-box dialect."</p> + +<p>"In wh-a-at?" asked the Poet.</p> + +<p>"Cigar-box dialect. Here it is:</p> + +<blockquote> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'O Manuel garcia alonzo,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Colorado especial H. Clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Invincible flora alphonzo,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cigarette panatella el rey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Victoria Reina selectas—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O twofer madura grandé—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O conchas oscuro perfectas,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You drive all my sorrows away.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> +</blockquote> + +<p>"Ingenious, but vicious," said the School-master, who does not smoke.</p> + +<p>"Again thanks. How is this for a sonnet?" said the Idiot:</p> + +<blockquote> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'When to the sessions of sweet silent thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I summon up remembrance of things past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weep afresh love's long since cancel'd woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I now pay as if not paid before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if the while I think of thee, dear friend!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All losses are restored and sorrows end.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +</blockquote> + +<p>"It is bosh!" said the School-master. The Poet smiled quietly.</p> + +<p>"Perfect bosh!" repeated the School-master. "And only shows how in weak +hands so beautiful a thing as the sonnet can be made ridiculous."</p> + +<p>"What's wrong with it?" asked the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't contain any thought—or if it does, no one can tell what the +thought is. Your rhymes are atrocious. Your phraseology is ridiculous. +The whole thing is bad. You'll never get anybody to print it."</p> + +<p>"I do not intend to try," said the Idiot, meekly.</p> + +<p>"You are wise," said the School-master, "to take my advice for once."</p> + +<p>"No, it is not your advice that restrains me," said the Idiot, dryly. +"It is the fact that this sonnet has already been printed."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In the name of Letters, where?" cried the School-master.</p> + +<p>"In the collected works of William Shakespeare," replied the Idiot, +quietly.</p> + +<p>The Poet laughed; Mrs. Smithers's eyes filled with tears; and the +School-master for once had absolutely nothing to say.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> + + +<p>"Do you believe, Mr. Whitechoker," said the Idiot, taking his place at +the table, and holding his plate up to the light, apparently to see +whether or not it was immaculate, whereat the landlady sniffed +contemptuously—"do you believe that the love of money is the root of +all evil?"</p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 560px;"> +<a name='image022' id='image022'></a><img src="images/image022.png" width="560" height="400" alt=""HOLDING HIS PLATE UP TO THE LIGHT"" title=""HOLDING HIS PLATE UP TO THE LIGHT"" /> +<span class="caption">"HOLDING HIS PLATE UP TO THE LIGHT"</span> +</div> +<p>"I have always been of that impression," returned Mr. Whitechoker, +pleasantly. "In fact, I am sure of it," he added. "There is no evil +thing in this world, sir, that cannot be traced back to a point where +greed is found to be its main-spring and the source of its strength."</p> + +<p>"Then how do you reconcile this with the scriptural story of the +forbidden fruit? Do you think the apples referred to were figures of +speech, the true import of which was that Adam and Eve had their eyes on +the original surplus?"</p> + +<p>"Well, of course, there you begin to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>—ah—you seem to me to be going +back to the—er—the—ah—"</p> + +<p>"Original root of all evil," prompted the Idiot, calmly.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," returned Mr. Whitechoker, with a sigh of relief. "Mrs. +Smithers, I think I'll have a dash of hot-water in my coffee this +morning." Then, with a nervous glance towards the Idiot, he added, +addressing the Bibliomaniac, "I think it looks like rain."</p> + +<p>"Referring to the coffee, Mr. Whitechoker?" queried the Idiot, not +disposed to let go of his victim quite so easily.</p> + +<p>"Ah—I don't quite follow you," replied the Minister, with some +annoyance.</p> + +<p>"You said something looked like rain, and I asked you if the thing you +referred to was the coffee, for I was disposed to agree with you," said +the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"I am sure," put in Mrs. Smithers, "that a gentleman of Mr. +Whitechoker's refinement would not make any such insinuation, sir. He is +not the man to quarrel with what is set before him."</p> + + + +<p>"I ask your pardon, madam," returned the Idiot, politely. "I hope that I +am not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>the man to quarrel with my food, either. Indeed, I make it a +rule to avoid unpleasantness of all sorts, particularly with the weak, +under which category we find your coffee. I simply wish to know to what +Mr. Whitechoker refers when he says 'it looks like rain.'"</p> + +<p>"I mean, of course," said the Minister, with as much calmness as he +could command—and that was not much—"I mean the day. The day looks as +if it might be rainy."</p> + +<p>"Any one with a modicum of brain knows what you meant, Mr. Whitechoker," +volunteered the School-master.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," observed the Idiot, scraping the butter from his toast; +"but to those who have more than a modicum of brains my reverend +friend's remark was not entirely clear. If I am talking of cotton, and a +gentleman chooses to state that it looks like snow, I know exactly what +he means. He doesn't mean that the day looks like snow, however; he +refers to the cotton. Mr. Whitechoker, talking about coffee, chooses to +state that it looks like rain, which it undoubtedly does. I, realizing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +that, as Mrs. Smithers says, it is not the gentleman's habit to attack +too violently the food which is set before him, manifest some surprise, +and, giving the gentleman the benefit of the doubt, afford him an +opportunity to set himself right."</p> + +<p>"Change the subject," said the Bibliomaniac, curtly.</p> + +<p>"With pleasure," answered the Idiot, filling his glass with cream. +"We'll change the subject, or the object, or anything you choose. We'll +have another breakfast, or another variety of biscuits +<i>frappé</i>—anything, in short, to keep peace at the table. Tell me, Mr. +Pedagog," he added, "is the use of the word 'it,' in the sentence 'it +looks like rain,' perfectly correct?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know why it is not," returned the School-master, uneasily. He +was not at all desirous of parleying with the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"And is it correct to suppose that 'it' refers to the day—is the day +supposed to look like rain?—or do we simply use 'it' to express a +condition which confronts us?"</p> + +<p>"It refers to the latter, of course."</p> + +<p>"Then the full text of Mr. Whitechoker's remark is, I suppose, that 'the +rainy condi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>tion of the atmosphere which confronts us looks like rain?'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I suppose so," sighed the School-master, wearily.</p> + +<p>"Rather an unnecessary sort of statement that!" continued the Idiot. +"It's something like asserting that a man looks like himself, or, as in +the case of a child's primer—</p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 368px;"> +<a name='image023' id='image023'></a><img src="images/image023.png" width="368" height="634" alt=""'I BELIEVE YOU'D BLOW OUT THE GAS IN YOUR BED-ROOM'"" title=""'I BELIEVE YOU'D BLOW OUT THE GAS IN YOUR BED-ROOM'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'I BELIEVE YOU'D BLOW OUT THE GAS IN YOUR BED-ROOM'"</span> +</div> +<p>"'See the cat?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, I see the cat.'</p> + +<p>"'What is the cat?'</p> + +<p>"'The cat is a cat. Scat cat!'"</p> + +<p>At this even Mrs. Smithers smiled.</p> + +<p>"I don't agree with Mr. Pedagog," put in the Bibliomaniac, after a +pause.</p> + +<p>Here the School-master shook his head warningly at the Bibliomaniac, as +if to indicate that he was not in good form.</p> + +<p>"So I observe," remarked the Idiot. "You have upset him completely. See +how Mr. Pedagog trembles?" he added, addressing the genial gentleman who +occasionally imbibed.</p> + + + +<p>"I don't mean that way," sneered the Bibliomaniac, bound to set Mr. +Whitechoker straight. "I mean that the word 'it,' as em<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>ployed in that +sentence, stands for day. The day looks like rain."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see a day?" queried the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"Certainly I have," returned the Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"What does it look like?" was the calmly put question.</p> + +<p>The Bibliomaniac's impatience was here almost too great for safety, and +the manner in which his face colored aroused considerable interest in +the breast of the Doctor, who was a good deal of a specialist in +apoplexy.</p> + +<p>"Was it a whole day you saw, or only a half-day?" persisted the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"You may think you are very funny," retorted the Bibliomaniac. "I think +you are—"</p> + +<p>"Now don't get angry," returned the Idiot. "There are two or three +things I do not know, and I'm anxious to learn. I'd like to know how a +day looks to one to whom it is a visible object. If it is visible, is it +tangible? and, if so, how does it feel?"</p> + +<p>"The visible is always tangible," asserted the School-master, +recklessly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How about a red-hot stove, or manifest indignation, or a view from a +mountain-top, or, as in the case of the young man in the novel who +'suddenly waked,' and, 'looking anxiously about him, saw no one?'" +returned the Idiot, imperturbably.</p> + +<p>"Tut!" ejaculated the Bibliomaniac. "If I had brains like yours, I'd +blow them out."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think you would," observed the Idiot, folding up his napkin. +"You're just the man to do a thing like that. I believe you'd blow out +the gas in your bedroom if there wasn't a sign over it requesting you +not to." And filling his match-box from the landlady's mantel supply, +the Idiot hurried from the room, and soon after left the house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> + + +<p>"If my father hadn't met with reverses—" the Idiot began.</p> + +<p>"Did you really have a father?" interrupted the School-master. "I +thought you were one of these self-made Idiots. How terrible it must be +for a man to think that he is responsible for you!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," rejoined the Idiot; "my father finds it rather hard to stand up +under his responsibility for me; but he is a brave old gentleman, and he +manages to bear the burden very well with the aid of my mother—for I +have a mother, too, Mr. Pedagog. A womanly mother she is, too, with all +the natural follies, such as fondness for and belief in her boy. Why, it +would soften your heart to see how she looks on me. She thinks I am the +most everlastingly brilliant man she ever knew—excepting father, of +course, who has always been a hero of heroes in her eyes, because he +never rails at misfortune, never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>spoke an unkind word to her in his +life, and just lives gently along and waiting for the end of all +things."</p> + + + +<p>"Do you think it is right in you to deceive your mother in this +way—making her think you a young Napoleon of intellect when you know +you are an Idiot?" observed the Bibliomaniac, with a twinkle in his eye.</p> + +<p>"Why certainly I do," returned the Idiot, calmly. "It's my place to make +the old folks happy if I can; and if thinking me nineteen different +kinds of a genius is going to fill my mother's heart with happiness, I'm +going to let her think it. What's the use of destroying other people's +idols even if we do know them to be hollow mockeries? Do you think you +do a praiseworthy act, for instance, when you kick over the heathen's +stone gods and leave him without any at all? You may not have noticed +it, but I have—that it is easier to pull down an idol than it is to +rear an ideal. I have had idols shattered myself, and I haven't found +that the pedestals they used to occupy have been rented since. They are +there yet and empty—standing as monuments to what once seemed good to +me—and I'm no happier nor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> no better for being disillusioned. So it is +with my mother. I let her go on and think me perfect. It does her good, +and it does me good because it makes me try to live up to that idea of +hers as to what I am. If she had the same opinion of me that we all have +she'd be the most miserable woman in the world."</p> + +<p>"We don't all think so badly of you," said the Doctor, rather softened +by the Idiot's remarks.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 629px;"> +<a name='image024' id='image024'></a><img src="images/image024.png" width="629" height="395" alt=""'HIS FAIRY STORIES WERE TOLD HIM IN WORDS OF TEN +SYLLABLES'"" title=""'HIS FAIRY STORIES WERE TOLD HIM IN WORDS OF TEN +SYLLABLES'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'HIS FAIRY STORIES WERE TOLD HIM IN WORDS OF TEN +SYLLABLES'"</span> +</div> +<p>"No," put in the Bibliomaniac. "You are all right. You breathe normally, +and you have nice blue eyes. You are graceful and pleasant to look upon, +and if you'd been born dumb we'd esteem you very highly. It is only your +manners and your theories that we don't like; but even in these we are +disposed to believe that you are a well-meaning child."</p> + +<p>"That is precisely the way to put it," assented the School-master. "You +are harmless even when most annoying. For my own part, I think the most +objectionable feature about you is that you suffer from that +unfortunately not uncommon malady, extreme youth. You are young for your +age, and if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> you only wouldn't talk, I think we should get on famously +together."</p> + +<p>"You overwhelm me with your compliments," said the Idiot. "I am sorry I +am so young, but I cannot be brought to believe that that is my own +fault. One must live to attain age, and how the deuce can one live when +one boards?"</p> + +<p>As no one ventured to reply to this question, the force of which very +evidently, however, was fully appreciated by Mrs. Smithers, the Idiot +continued:</p> + + + +<p>"Youth is thrust upon us in our infancy, and must be endured until such +a time as Fate permits us to account ourselves cured. It swoops down +upon us when we have neither the strength nor the brains to resent it. +Of course there are some superior persons in this world who never were +young. Mr. Pedagog, I doubt not, was ushered into this world with all +three sets of teeth cut, and not wailing as most infants are, but +discussing the most abstruse philosophical problems. His fairy stories +were told him, if ever, in words of ten syllables; and his father's +first remark to him was doubtless an inquiry as to his opinion on the +subject of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>Latin and Greek in our colleges. It's all right to be this +kind of a baby if you like that sort of thing. For my part, I rejoice to +think that there was once a day when I thought my father a mean-spirited +assassin, because he wouldn't tie a string to the moon and let me make +it rise and set as suited my sweet will. Babies of Mr. Pedagog's sort +are fortunately like angel's visits, few and far between. In spite of +his stand in the matter, though, I can't help thinking there was a great +deal of truth in a rhyme a friend of mine got off on Youth. It fits the +case. He said:</p> + +<blockquote> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Youth is a state of being we attain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In early years; to some 'tis but a crime—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like the mumps, most agèd men complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It can't be caught, alas! a second time."'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +</blockquote> + +<p>"Your rhymes are interesting, and your reasoning, as usual, is faulty," +said the School-master. "I passed a very pleasant childhood, though it +was a childhood devoted, as you have insinuated, to serious rather than +to flippant pursuits. I wasn't particularly fond of tag and +hide-and-seek, nor do I think that even as an infant I ever cried for +the moon."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 320px;"> +<a name='image025' id='image025'></a><img src="images/image025.png" width="320" height="439" alt=""'I THOUGHT MY FATHER A MEAN-SPIRITED ASSASSIN'"" title=""'I THOUGHT MY FATHER A MEAN-SPIRITED ASSASSIN'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'I THOUGHT MY FATHER A MEAN-SPIRITED ASSASSIN'"</span> +</div> +<p>"It would have expanded your chest if you had, Mr. Pedagog," observed +the Idiot, quietly.</p> + +<p>"So it would, but I never found myself short-winded, sir," retorted the +School-master, with some acerbity.</p> + +<p>"That is evident; but go on," said the Idiot. "You never passed a +childish youth nor a youthful childhood, and therefore what?"</p> + +<p>"Therefore, in my present condition, I am normally contented. I have no +youthful follies to look back upon, no indiscretions to regret; I never +knowingly told a lie, and—"</p> + +<p>"All of which proves that you never were young," put in the Idiot; "and +you will excuse me if I say it, but my father is the model for me rather +than so exalted a personage as yourself. He is still young, though +turned seventy, and I don't believe on his own account there ever was a +boy who played hookey more, who prevaricated oftener, who purloined +others' fruits with greater frequency than he. He was guilty of every +crime in the calendar of youth; and if there is one thing that delights +him more than another, it is to sit on a winter's night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> before the +crackling log and tell us yarns about his youthful follies and his +boyhood indiscretions."</p> + +<p>"But is he normally a happy man?" queried the School-master.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>"No. He's an <i>ab</i>normally happy man, because he's got his follies and +indiscretions to look back upon and not forward to."</p> + +<p>"Ahem!" said Mrs. Smithers.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" ejaculated Mr. Whitechoker.</p> + +<p>Mr. Pedagog said nothing, and the breakfast-room was soon deserted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> + + +<p>There was an air of suppressed excitement about Mrs. Smithers and Mr. +Pedagog as they sat down to breakfast. Something had happened, but just +what that something was no one as yet knew, although the genial old +gentleman had a sort of notion as to what it was.</p> + +<p>"Pedagog has been good-natured enough for an engaged man for nearly a +week now," he whispered to the Idiot, who had asked him what he supposed +was up, "and I have a half idea that Mrs. S. has at last brought him to +the point of proposing."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 390px;"> +<a name='image026' id='image026'></a><img src="images/image026.png" width="390" height="541" alt=""'MRS. S. BROUGHT HIM TO THE POINT OF PROPOSING'"" title=""'MRS. S. BROUGHT HIM TO THE POINT OF PROPOSING'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'MRS. S. BROUGHT HIM TO THE POINT OF PROPOSING'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"It's the other way, I imagine," returned the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"You don't really think she has rejected him, do you?" queried the +genial old gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Oh no; not by a great deal. I mean that I think it very likely that he +has brought her to the point. This is leap-year, you know," said the +Idiot.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, if I were a betting man, which I haven't been since night before +last, I'd lay you a wager that they're engaged," said the old gentleman.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you've given up betting," rejoined the Idiot, "because I'm +sure I'd take the bet if you offered it—and then I believe I'd lose."</p> + +<p>"We are to have Philadelphia spring chickens this morning, gentlemen," +said Mrs. Smithers, beaming upon all at the table. "It's a special +treat."</p> + +<p>"Which we all appreciate, my dear Mrs. Smithers," observed the Idiot, +with a courteous bow to his landlady. "And, by the way, why is it that +Philadelphia spring chickens do not appear until autumn, do you suppose? +Is it because Philadelphia spring doesn't come around until it is autumn +everywhere else?"</p> + +<p>"No, I think not," said the Doctor. "I think it is because Philadelphia +spring chickens are not sufficiently hardened to be able to stand the +strain of exportation much before September, or else Philadelphia people +do not get so sated with such delicacies as to permit any of the crop to +go into other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>than Philadelphia markets before that period. For my +part, I simply love them."</p> + + + +<p>"So do I," said the Idiot; "and if Mrs. Smithers will pardon me for +expressing a preference for any especial part of the <i>pièce de +résistance</i>, I will state to her that if, in helping me, she will give +me two drumsticks, a pair of second joints, and plenty of the white +meat, I shall be very happy."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have said so yesterday," said the School-master, with a +surprisingly genial laugh. "Then Mrs. Smithers could have prepared an +individual chicken for you."</p> + +<p>"That would be too much," returned the Idiot, "and I should really +hesitate to eat too much spring chicken. I never did it in my life, and +don't know what the effect would be. Would it be harmful, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"I really do not know how it would be," answered the Doctor. "In all my +wide experience I have never found a case of the kind."</p> + +<p>"It's very rarely that one gets too much spring chicken," said Mr. +Whitechoker. "I haven't had any experience with patients, as my friend +the Doctor has; but I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> lived in many boarding-houses, and I have +never yet known of any one even getting enough."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps we shall have all we want this morning," said Mrs. +Smithers. "I hope so, at any rate, for I wish this day to be a memorable +one in our house. Mr. Pedagog has something to tell you. John, will you +announce it now?"</p> + +<p>"Did you hear that?" whispered the Idiot. "She called him 'John.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the genial old gentleman. "I didn't know Pedagog had a first +name before."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear—that is, my very dear Mrs. Smithers," stammered the +School-master, getting red in the face. "The fact is, +gentlemen—ahem!—I—er—we—er—that is, of course—er—Mrs. Smithers +has er—ahem!—Mrs. Smithers has asked me to be her—I—er—I should say +I have asked Mrs. Smithers to be my husb—my wife, and—er—she—"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 410px;"> +<a name='image027' id='image027'></a><img src="images/image027.png" width="410" height="518" alt=""'HOORAH!' CRIED THE IDIOT, GRASPING MR. PEDAGOG BY THE +HAND"" title=""'HOORAH!' CRIED THE IDIOT, GRASPING MR. PEDAGOG BY THE +HAND"" /> +<span class="caption">"'HOORAH!' CRIED THE IDIOT, GRASPING MR. PEDAGOG BY THE +HAND"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Hoorah!" cried the Idiot, jumping up from the table and grasping Mr. +Pedagog by the hand. "Hoorah! You've got in ahead of us, old man, but we +are just as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> glad when we think of your good-fortune. Your gain may be +our loss—but what of that where the happiness of our dear landlady is +at stake?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smithers glanced coyly at the Idiot and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the School-master.</p> + +<p>"You are welcome," said the Idiot. "Mrs. Smithers, you will also permit +me to felicitate you upon this happy event. I, who have so often +differed with Mr. Pedagog upon matters of human knowledge, am forced to +admit that upon this occasion he has shown such eminently good sense +that you are fortunate, indeed, to have won him."</p> + +<p>"Again I thank you," said the School-master. "You are a very sensible +person yourself, my dear Idiot; perhaps my failure to appreciate you at +times in the past has been due to your brilliant qualities, which have +so dazzled me that I have been unable to see you as you really are."</p> + +<p>"Here are the chickens," said Mrs. Smithers.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" ejaculated the Idiot. "What lucky fellows we are, to be sure! I +hope, Mrs. Smithers, now that Mr. Pedagog has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> cut us all out, you will +at least be a sister to the rest of us, and let us live at home."</p> + +<p>"There is to be no change," said Mrs. Smithers—"at least, I hope not, +except that Mr. Pedagog will take a more active part in the management +of our home."</p> + +<p>"I don't envy him that," said the Idiot. "We shall be severe critics, +and it will be hard work for him to manage affairs better than you did, +Mrs. Smithers."</p> + +<p>"Mary, get me a larger cup for the Idiot's coffee," said Mrs. Smithers.</p> + +<p>"Let's all retire from business," suggested the Idiot, after the other +guests had expressed their satisfaction with the turn affairs had taken. +"Let's retire from business, and change the Smithers Home for Boarders +into an Educational Institution."</p> + +<p>"For what purpose?" queried the Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"Everything is so lovely now," explained the Idiot, "that I feel as +though I never wanted to leave the house again, even to win a fortune. +If we turn it into a college and instruct youth, we need never go +outside the front door excepting for pleasure."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where will the money and the instructors come from?" asked Mr. +Whitechoker.</p> + +<p>"Money? From pupils; and after we get going maybe somebody will endow +us. As for instructors, I think we know enough to be instructors +ourselves," replied the Idiot. "For instance: Pedagog's University. John +Pedagog, President; Alonzo B. Whitechoker, Chaplain; Mrs. +Smithers-Pedagog, Matron. For Professor of Belles-lettres, the +Bibliomaniac, assisted by the Poet; Medical Lectures by Dr. Capsule; +Chemistry taught by our genial friend who occasionally imbibes; Chair in +General Information, your humble servant. Why, we would be overrun with +pupils and money in less than a year."</p> + +<p>"A very good idea," returned Mr. Pedagog. "I have often thought that a +nice little school could be started here to advantage, though I must +confess that I had different ideas on the subject of the instructors. +You, my dear Idiot, would be a great deal more useful as a Professor +Emeritus."</p> + +<p>"Hm!" said the Idiot. "It sounds mighty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> well—I've no doubt I should +like it. What is a Professor Emeritus, Mr. Pedagog?"</p> + +<p>"He is a professor who is paid a salary for doing nothing."</p> + +<p>The whole table joined in a laugh, the Idiot included.</p> + +<p>"By Jove! Mr. Pedagog," he said, as soon as he could speak, "you are +just dead right about that. That's the place of places for me. Salary +and nothing to do! Oh, how I'd love it!"</p> + +<p>The rest of the breakfast was eaten in silence. The spring chickens were +too good and too plentiful to admit of much waste of time in +conversation. At the conclusion of the meal the Idiot rose from the +table, and, after again congratulating Mr. Pedagog and his fiancée, +announced that he was going to see his employer.</p> + +<p>"On Sunday?" queried Mrs. Smithers.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I want him to write me a recommendation as a man who can do +nothing beautifully."</p> + +<p>"And why, pray?" asked Mr. Pedagog.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to apply to the Trustees of Columbia College the first thing +to-morrow morning for an Emeritus Professorship, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> if anybody can do +nothing and draw money for it gracefully I'm the man. Wall Street is too +wearing on my nerves," he replied.</p> + +<p>And in a moment he was gone.</p> + +<p>"I <i>like</i> him," said Mrs. Smithers.</p> + +<p>"So do I," said Mr. Pedagog. "He isn't half the idiot he thinks he is."</p> + +<h2>THE END<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class='ads'> +<h3><a name="By_LILIAN_BELL" id="By_LILIAN_BELL"></a><span class="smcap">By</span> LILIAN BELL</h3> + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><span class="smcap">A Little Sister to the Wilderness</span>. A Novel. New Edition. 16mo, Cloth, +Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1 25.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The story is a pathetic one in many ways, for it portrays so +strongly human lowliness and degradation. The writer is well +acquainted with the life and habits and dialect of the West +Tennessee bottoms, and her story is written from the heart and with +rare sympathy. The lonely dyke roads, the cheerless homes, the +shabby "store," the emotional Methodist meeting, which lasts a +week, having two sessions daily—all these are vividly sketched. +Mag, the heroine, is a well-drawn character. Camden, the hero, is +forceful and earnest. The story is valuable because it shows so +forcefully the peculiar phases of the life and human character of +these people. The writer has a natural and fluent style, and her +dialect has the double excellence of being novel and scanty. The +scenes are picturesque and diversified.—<i>Churchman</i>, N. Y.</p></blockquote> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">From a Girl's Point of View</span>. 16mo, Cloth, +Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1 25. +</p><p> +<span class="smcap">The Under Side of Things</span>. A Novel. 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