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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19324-8.txt b/19324-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3704b87 --- /dev/null +++ b/19324-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7793 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VI. +(of X.), by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. 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: The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VI. (of X.) + +Author: Various + +Editor: Marshall P. Wilder + +Release Date: September 18, 2006 [EBook #19324] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIT AND HUMOR OF *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + +Library Edition + +THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA + +In Ten Volumes + +VOL. VI + + + + +[Illustration: FINLEY PETER DUNNE (MR. DOOLEY)] + + + + +THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA + +EDITED BY MARSHALL P. WILDER + +_Volume VI_ + + +Funk & Wagnalls Company +New York and London + +Copyright MDCCCCVII, BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY +Copyright MDCCCCXI, THE THWING COMPANY + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + Abou Ben Butler John Paul 1167 + Advertiser, The Eugene Field 1101 + After the Funeral James M. Bailey 1146 + Apostasy of William Dodge, The Stanley Waterloo 1084 + Ballad of Grizzly Gulch, The Wallace Irwin 1073 + Banty Tim John Hay 1173 + Bear Story, The James Whitcomb Riley 1047 + Book-Canvasser, The Anonymous 1113 + Bully Boat and a Brag Captain, A Sol Smith 1208 + Bumblebeaver, The Kenyon Cox 1145 + Casey at the Bat Ernest Lawrence Thayer 1148 + Chad's Story of the Goose F. Hopkinson Smith 993 + Colonel Carter's Story of + the Postmaster F. Hopkinson Smith 1052 + Comic Miseries John G. Saxe 1121 + Coquette, The John G. Saxe 1127 + De Gradual Commence Wallace Bruce Amsbary 1164 + Evening Oliver Wendell Holmes 1175 + Fairport Art Museum, The Octave Thanet 1062 + Famous Mulligan Ball, The Frank L. Stanton 1103 + Genial Idiot Discusses the Music + Cure, The John Kendrick Bangs 1105 + Grains of Truth Bill Nye 985 + Her Valentine Richard Hovey 1117 + It Pays to be Happy Tom Masson 1170 + James and Reginald Eugene Field 1171 + Jones Lloyd Osbourne 1007 + Latter-Day Warnings Oliver Wendell Holmes 1168 + Lost Chords Eugene Field 1080 + Love Sonnets of an Office Boy S.E. Kiser 1056 + Martyrdom of Mr. Stevens, The Herbert Quick 1151 + Merchant and the Book-Agent, The Anonymous 1124 + Modern Farmer, The Jack Appleton 1083 + Mosquito, The William Cullen Bryant 1199 + Mr. Dooley on the Game of Football Finley Peter Dunne 1059 + My First Cigar Robert J. Burdette 1204 + My Philosofy James Whitcomb Riley 1076 + Octopussycat, The Kenyon Cox 1112 + Old Settler, The Ed. Mott 1177 + Owl-Critic, The James T. Fields 1196 + Paintermine, The Kenyon Cox 1100 + Shonny Schwartz Charles Follen Adams 1206 + Society Upon the Stanislaus, The Bret Harte 1078 + So Wags the World Anne Warner 1092 + Spring Feeling, A Bliss Carman 1129 + Talking Horse, The John T. McIntyre 1185 + Thompson Street Poker Club, The Henry Guy Carleton 1140 + Thoughts fer the Discuraged Farmer James Whitcomb Riley 1081 + "Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle-bum! bum!" Wilbur D. Nesbit 1202 + Unconscious Humor J.K. Wetherell 998 + Up and Down Old Brandywine James Whitcomb Riley 1003 + Verre Definite Wallace Bruce Amsbary 1183 + Wasted Opportunities Roy Farrell Greene 1132 + Weddin', The Jennie Betts Hartswick 1134 + Welsh Rabbittern, The Kenyon Cox 1120 + When the Allegash Drive Goes Through Holman F. Day 1214 + Wild Boarder, The Kenyon Cox 1163 + +COMPLETE INDEX AT THE END OF VOLUME X. + + + + +GRAINS OF TRUTH + +BY BILL NYE + + +A young friend has written to me as follows: "Could you tell me +something of the location of the porcelain works in Sèvres, France, and +what the process is of making those beautiful things which come from +there? How is the name of the town pronounced? Can you tell me anything +of the history of Mme. Pompadour? Who was the Dauphin? Did you learn +anything of Louis XV whilst in France? What are your literary habits?" + +It is with a great, bounding joy that I impart the desired information. +Sèvres is a small village just outside of St. Cloud (pronounced San +Cloo). It is given up to the manufacture of porcelain. You go to St. +Cloud by rail or river, and then drive over to Sèvres by diligence or +voiture. Some go one way and some go the other. I rode up on the Seine, +aboard of a little, noiseless, low-pressure steamer about the size of a +sewing machine. It was called the Silvoo Play, I think. + +The fare was thirty centimes--or, say, three cents. After paying my fare +and finding that I still had money left, I lunched at St. Cloud in the +open air at a trifling expense. I then took a bottle of milk from my +pocket and quenched my thirst. Traveling through France one finds that +the water is especially bad, tasting of the Dauphin at times, and +dangerous in the extreme. I advise those, therefore, who wish to be well +whilst doing the Continent, to carry, especially in France, as I did, a +large, thick-set bottle of milk, or kumiss, with which to take the wire +edge off one's whistle whilst being yanked through the Louvre. + +St. Cloud is seven miles west of the center of Paris and almost ten +miles by rail on the road to Versailles--pronounced Vairsi. St. Cloud +belongs to the canton of Sèvres and the arrondissement of Versailles. An +arrondissement is not anything reprehensible. It is all right. You, +yourself, could belong to an arrondissement if you lived in France. + +St. Cloud is on the beautiful hill slope, looking down the valley of the +Seine, with Paris in the distance. It is peaceful and quiet and +beautiful. Everything is peaceful in Paris when there is no revolution +on the carpet. The steam cars run safely and do not make so much noise +as ours do. The steam whistle does not have such a hold on people as it +does here. The adjutant-general at the depot blows a little tin bugle, +the admiral of the train returns the salute, the adjutant-general says +"Allons!" and the train starts off like a somewhat leisurely young man +who is going to the depot to meet his wife's mother. + +One does not realize what a Fourth of July racket we live in and employ +in our business till he has been the guest of a monarchy of Europe, +between whose toes the timothy and clover have sprung up to a great +height. And yet it is a pleasing change, and I shall be glad when we as +a republic have passed the blow-hard period, laid aside the +ear-splitting steam whistle, settled down to good, permanent +institutions, and taken on the restful, soothful, Boston air which comes +with time and the quiet self-congratulation that one is born in a Bible +land and with Gospel privileges, and where the right to worship in a +strictly high-church manner is open to all. + +The Palace of St. Cloud was once the residence of Napoleon I in +summer-time. He used to go out there for the heated term, and folding +his arms across his stomach, have thought after thought regarding the +future of France. Yet he very likely never had an idea that some day it +would be a thrifty republic, engaged in growing green peas, or pulling a +soiled dove out of the Seine, now and then, to add to the attractions of +her justly celebrated morgue. + +Louis XVIII also put up at the Palace in St. Cloud several summers. He +spelled it "palais," which shows that he had very poor early English +advantages, or that he was, as I have always suspected, a native of +Quebec. Charles X also changed the bedding somewhat, and moved in during +his reign. He also added a new iron sink and a place in the barn for +washing buggies. Louis Philippe spent his summers here for a number of +years, and wrote weekly letters to the Paris papers, signed "Uno," in +which he urged the taxpayers to show more veneration for their royal +nibs. Napoleon III occupied the palais in summer during his lifetime, +availing himself finally of the use of Mr. Bright's justly celebrated +disease and dying at the dawn of better institutions for beautiful but +unhappy France. + +I visited the palais (pronounced pallay), which was burned by the +Prussians in 1870. The grounds occupy 960 acres, which I offered to buy +and fit up, but probably I did not deal with responsible parties. This +part of France reminds me very much of North Carolina. I mean, of +course, the natural features. Man has done more for France, it seems to +me, than for the Tar Heel State, and the cities of Asheville and Paris +are widely different. The police of Paris rarely get together in front +of the court-house to pitch horseshoes or dwell on the outlook for the +goober crop. + +And yet the same blue, ozonic sky, if I may be allowed to coin a word, +the same soft, restful, _dolce frumenti_ air of gentle, genial health, +and of cark destroying, magnetic balm to the congested soul, the +inflamed nerve and the festering brain, are present in Asheville that +one finds in the quiet drives of San Cloo with the successful squirt of +the mighty fountains of Vairsi and the dark and whispering forests of +Fon-taine-_bloo_. + +The palais at San Cloo presents a rather dejected appearance since it +was burned, and the scorched walls are bare, save where here and there a +warped and wilted water pipe festoons the blackened and blistered wreck +of what was once so grand and so gay. + +San Cloo has a normal school for the training of male teachers only. I +visited it, but for some cause I did not make a hit in my address to the +pupils until I began to speak in their own national tongue. Then the +closest attention was paid to what I said, and the keenest delight was +manifest on every radiant face. The president, who spoke some English, +shook hands with me as we parted, and I asked him how the students took +my remarks. He said: "They shall all the time keep the thinkness--what +you shall call the recollect--of monsieur's speech in preserves, so that +they shall forget it not continualle. We shall all the time say we have +not witness something like it since the time we come here, and have not +so much enjoy ourselves since the grand assassination by the guillotine. +Come next winter and be with us for one week. Some of us will remain in +the hall each time." + +At San Cloo I hired of a quiet young fellow about thirty-five years of +age, who kept a very neat livery stable there, a sort of victoria and a +big Percheron horse, with fetlock whiskers that reminded me of the +Sutherland sisters. As I was in no hurry I sat on the iron settee in the +cool court of the livery stable, and with my arm resting on the shoulder +of the proprietor I spoke of the crops and asked if generally people +about there regarded the farmer movement as in any way threatening to +the other two great parties. He did not seem to know, and so I watched +the coachman who was to drive me, as he changed his clothes in order to +give me my money's worth in grandeur. + +One thing I liked about France was that the people were willing, at a +slight advance on the regular price, to treat a very ordinary man with +unusual respect and esteem. This surprised and delighted me beyond +measure, and I often told people there that I did not begrudge the +additional expense. The coachman was also hostler, and when the carriage +was ready he altered his attire by removing a coarse, gray shirt or +tunic and putting on a long, olive green coachman's coat, with erect +linen collar and cuffs sewed into the collar and sleeves. He wore a high +hat that was much better than mine, as is frequently the case with +coachmen and their employers. My coachman now gives me his silk hat when +he gets through with it in the spring and fall, so I am better dressed +than I used to be. + +But we were going to say a word regarding the porcelain works at Sèvres. +It is a modern building and is under government control. The museum is +filled with the most beautiful china dishes and funny business that one +could well imagine. Besides, the pottery ever since its construction has +retained its models, and they, of course, are worthy of a day's study. +The "Sèvres blue" is said to be a little bit bluer than anything else in +the known world except the man who starts a nonpareil paper in a pica +town. + +I was careful not to break any of these vases and things, and thus +endeared myself to the foreman of the place. All employes are uniformed +and extremely deferential to recognized ability. Practically, for half a +day, I owned the place. + +A cattle friend of mine who was looking for a dynasty, whose tail he +could twist while in Europe, and who used often to say over our glass of +vin ordinaire (which I have since learned is not the best brand at all), +that nothing would tickle him more than "to have a little deal with a +crowned head and get him in the door," accidentally broke a blue crock +out there at Sèvres which wouldn't hold over a gallon, and it took the +best part of a carload of cows to pay for it, he told me. + +The process of making the Sèvres ware is not yet published in book form, +especially the method of coloring and enameling. It is a secret +possessed by duly authorized artists. The name of the town is pronounced +Save. + +Mme. Pompadour is said to have been the natural daughter of a butcher, +which I regard as being more to her own credit than though she had been +an artificial one. Her name was Jeanne Antoinette Poisson Le Normand +d'Etioles, Marchioness de Pompadour, and her name is yet used by the +authorities of Versailles as a fire escape, so I am told. + +She was the mistress of Louis XV, who never allowed her to put her hands +in dishwater during the entire time she visited at his house. D'Etioles +was her first husband, but she left him for a gay but rather +reprehensible life at court, where she was terribly talked about, though +she is said not to have cared a cent. + +She developed into a marvelous politician, and early seeing that the +French people were largely governed by the literary lights of that time, +she began to cultivate the acquaintance of the magazine writers, and +tried to join the Authors' Club. + +She then became prominent by originating a method of doing up the hair, +which has since grown popular among people whose hair has not, like my +own, been already "done up." + +This style of Mme. Pompadour's was at once popular with the young men +who ran the throttles of the soda fountains of that time, and is still +well spoken of. A young friend of mine trained his hair up from his +forehead in that way once and could not get it down again. During his +funeral his hair, which had been glued down by the undertaker, became +surprised at something said by the clergyman and pushed out the end of +his casket. + +The king tired in a few years of Mme. Pompadour and wished that he had +not encouraged her to run away from her husband. She, however, retained +her hold upon the blasé and alcoholic monarch by her wonderful +versatility and genius. + +When all her talents as an artiste and politician palled upon his old +rum-soaked and emaciated brain, and ennui, like a mighty canker, ate +away large corners of his moth-eaten soul, she would sit in the gloaming +and sing to him, "Hard Times, Hard Times, Come Again No More," meantime +accompanying herself on the harpsichord or the sackbut or whatever they +played in those days. Then she instituted theatricals, giving, through +the aid of the nobility, a very good version of "Peck's Bad Boy" and +"Lend Me Five Centimes." + +She finally lost her influence over Looey the XV, and as he got to be an +old man the thought suddenly occurred to him to reform, and so he had +Mme. Pompadour beheaded at the age of forty-two years. This little +story should teach us that no matter how gifted we are, or how high we +may wear our hair, our ambitions must be tempered by honor and +integrity; also that pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit +before a plunk. + + + + +CHAD'S STORY OF THE GOOSE + +BY F. HOPKINSON SMITH + + +I nodded my head, and Chad closed the door softly, taking with him a +small cup and saucer, and returning in a few minutes followed by that +most delicious of all aromas, the savory steam of boiling coffee. + +"My Marsa John," he continued, filling the cup with the smoking +beverage, "never drank nuffin' but tea, eben at de big dinners when all +de gemmen had coffee in de little cups--dat's one ob 'em you's drinkin' +out ob now; dey ain't mo' dan fo' on 'em left. Old marsa would have his +pot ob tea: Henny use' ter make it for him; makes it now for Miss Nancy. + +"Henny was a young gal den, long 'fo' we was married. Henny b'longed to +Colonel Lloyd Barbour, on de next plantation to ourn. + +"Mo' coffee, Major?" I handed Chad the empty cup. He refilled it, and +went straight on without drawing breath. + +"Wust scrape I eber got into wid old Marsa John was ober Henny. I tell +ye she was a harricane in dem days. She come into de kitchen one time +where I was helpin' git de dinner ready, an' de cook had gone to de +spring house, an' she says: + +"'Chad, what ye cookin' dat smells so nice?' + +"'Dat's a goose,' I says, 'cookin' for Marsa John's dinner. We got +quality,' says I, pointin' to de dinin'-room do'. + +"'Quality!' she says. 'Spec' I know what de quality is. Dat's for you +an' de cook.' + +"Wid dat she grabs a caarvin' knife from de table, opens de do' ob de +big oven, cuts off a leg ob de goose, an' dis'pears round de kitchen +corner wid de leg in her mouf. + +"'Fo' I knowed whar I was Marsa John come to de kitchen do' an' says, +'Gittin' late, Chad; bring in de dinner.' You see, Major, dey ain't no +up an' down stairs in de big house, like it is yer; kitchen an' +dinin'-room all on de same flo'. + +"Well, sah, I was scared to def, but I tuk dat goose an' laid him wid de +cut side down on de bottom of de pan 'fo' de cook got back, put some +dressin' an' stuffin' ober him, an' shet de stove do'. Den I tuk de +sweet potatoes an' de hominy an' put 'em on de table, an' den I went +back in de kitchen to git de baked ham. I put on de ham an' some mo' +dishes, an' marsa says, lookin' up: + +"'I t'ought dere was a roast goose, Chad.' + +"'I ain't yerd nothin' 'bout no goose,' I says, 'I'll ask de cook.' + +"Next minute I yerd old marsa a-hollerin': + +"'Mammy Jane, ain't we got a goose?' + +"'Lord-a-massy! yes, marsa. Chad, you wu'thless nigger, ain't you tuk +dat goose out yit?' + +"'Is we got a goose?' said I. + +"'_Is we got a goose?_ Didn't you help pick it?' + +"I see whar my hair was short, an' I snatched up a hot dish from de +hearth, opened de oven do', an' slide de goose in jes as he was, an' lay +him down befo' Marsa John. + +"'Now see what de ladies'll have for dinner,' says old marsa, pickin' up +his caarvin' knife. + +"'What'll you take for dinner, miss?' says I. 'Baked ham?' + +"'No,' she says, lookin' up to whar Marsa John sat; 'I think I'll take a +leg ob dat goose'--jes so. + +"Well, marsa, cut off de leg an' put a little stuffin' an' gravy on wid +a spoon, an' says to me, 'Chad, see what dat gemman'll have.' + +"'What'll you take for dinner, sah?' says I. 'Nice breast o' goose, or +slice o' ham?' + +"'No; I think I'll take a leg of dat goose,' he says. + +"I didn't say nuffin', but I knowed bery well he wa'n't a-gwine to git +it. + +"But, Major, you oughter seen ole marsa lookin' for der udder leg ob dat +goose! He rolled him ober on de dish, dis way an' dat way, an' den he +jabbed dat ole bone-handled caarvin' fork in him an' hel' him up ober de +dish an' looked under him an' on top ob him, an' den he says, kinder sad +like: + +"'Chad, whar is de udder leg ob dat goose?' + +"'It didn't hab none,' says I. + +"'You mean ter say, Chad, dat de gooses on my plantation on'y got one +leg?' + +"'Some ob 'em has an' some ob 'em ain't. You see, marsa, we got two +kinds in de pond, an' we was a little boddered to-day, so Mammy Jane +cooked dis one 'cause I cotched it fust.' + +"'Well,' said he, lookin' like he look when he send for you in de little +room, 'I'll settle wid ye after dinner.' + +"Well, dar I was shiverin' an' shakin' in my shoes, an' droppin' gravy +an' spillin' de wine on de table-cloth, I was dat shuck up; an' when de +dinner was ober he calls all de ladies an' gemmen, an' says, 'Now come +down to de duck pond. I'm gwineter show dis nigger dat all de gooses on +my plantation got mo' den one leg.' + +"I followed 'long, trapesin' after de whole kit an' b'ilin', an' when we +got to de pond"--here Chad nearly went into a convulsion with +suppressed laughter--"dar was de gooses sittin' on a log in de middle of +dat ole green goose-pond wid one leg stuck down so, an' de udder tucked +under de wing." + +Chad was now on one leg, balancing himself by my chair, the tears +running down his cheek. + +"'Dar, marsa,' says I, 'don't ye see? Look at dat ole gray goose! Dat's +de berry match ob de one we had to-day.' + +"Den de ladies all hollered, an' de gemmen laughed so loud dey yerd 'em +at de big house. + +"'Stop, you black scoun'rel!' Marsa John says, his face gittin' white +an' he a-jerkin' his handkerchief from his pocket. 'Shoo!' + +"Major, I hope to have my brains kicked out by a lame grasshopper if +ebery one ob dem gooses didn't put down de udder leg! + +"'Now, you lyin' nigger,' he says, raisin' his cane ober my head, 'I'll +show you'-- + +"'Stop, Marsa John!' I hollered; ''t ain't fair, 't ain't fair.' + +"'Why ain't it fair?' says he. + +"''Cause,' says I, 'you didn't say "Shoo!" to de goose what was on de +table'." + +Chad laughed until he choked. + +"And did he thrash you?" + +"Marsa John? No, sah. He laughed loud as anybody; an' den dat night he +says to me as I was puttin' some wood on de fire: + +"'Chad, where did dat leg go?' An' so I ups an' tells him all about +Henny, an' how I was lyin' 'case I was 'feared de gal would git hurt, +an' how she was on'y a-foolin', thinkin' it was my goose; an' den de ole +marsa look in de fire for a long time, an' den he says: + +"'Dat's Colonel Barbour's Henny, ain't it, Chad?' + +"'Yes, marsa,' says I. + +"Well, de next mawnin' he had his black horse saddled, an' I held the +stirrup for him to git on, an' he rode ober to de Barbour plantation, +an' didn't come back till plumb black night. When he come up I held de +lantern so I could see his face, for I wa'n't easy in my mine all day. +But it was all bright an' shinin' same as a' angel's. + +"'Chad,' he says, handin' me de reins, 'I bought yo' Henny dis arternoon +from Colonel Barbour, an' she's comin' ober to-morrow, an' you can bofe +git married next Sunday.'" + + + + +UNCONSCIOUS HUMOR + +BY J.K. WETHERILL + + +Perhaps unconscious humor does not appeal to the more amiable side of +our sense of mirth, for it excites in us a conceited feeling of +superiority over those who are making us laugh,--but its unexpectedness +and infinite variety render it irresistible to a certain class of minds. +The duly labeled "joke" follows a certain law and rule; whereas no +jester could invent the _grotesqueries_ of the unconscious humorist. + +As a humble gleaner after the editorial scythe,--or, to be truly modern, +I should say mowing-machine,--I have gathered some strange sheaves of +this sort of humor. Like many provincial newspapers, that to which I am +attached makes a feature of printing the social happenings in villages +of the surrounding country, and these out-of-town correspondents "don't +do a thing to" the English language. One of them invariably refers to +the social lights of his vicinity as "our prominent socialists," and +describes some individual as "happening to an accident." To another, +every festal occasion is "a bower of beauty and a scene of fairyland." +Blue-penciling they resent, and one of them wrote to complain that a +descriptive effort of his had been "much altered and deranged." The +paper also publishes portraits of children and young women, and it is in +the descriptions accompanying these pictures that the rural +correspondent excels himself. One wound up his eulogy in an apparently +irrepressible burst of enthusiasm: "She is indeed a _tout ensemble_." A +child of six months was described as "studious"; and another +correspondent went into details thus: "Little Willie has only one large +blue eye, the other having been punched out by his brother with a stick, +by accident." A small child was accredited with "a pleasing disposition +and a keen juvenile conception." + +The following are some of the descriptive phrases applied to village +belles: "She is perfectly at home on the piano, where her executions +have attained international celebrity." ... "She possesses a mine of +repartee and the qualities which have long rendered illustive her noble +family." ... "Her carriage and disposition are swan-like." ... "Her eyes +can express pathetic pathos, but flash forth fiery independence when her +country's name is traduced." ... "She has a molded arm, and her +Juno-like form glides with a rhythmic move in the soft swell of a +Strauss." ... "Her chestnut hair gives a rich recess to her lovely, +fawnlike eyes, which shine like a star set in the crown of an angel." +... One writer becomes absolutely incoherent in his admiration, and +lavishes a mixture of metaphors upon his subject: "She portrays a +picture worthy of a Raphael. She dances like the fairies before the +heavenly spirits. She looks like a celestial goddess from an outburst of +morning-glories; her lovely form would assume a phantomlike flash as she +glides the floor, as though she were a mystic dream." + +Scarcely less rich in unconscious humor are some of the effusions of +those who have literary aspirations. A descriptive article contains a +reference to "a lonely house that stood in silent mutiny." "Indians who +border on civilization, an interesting people in their superstitious +way," infested the vicinity, and one of the points of interest was the +Wild Man's Leap, "so called from an Indian who is said to have leaped +across to get away from some men who were trying to expatriate him." An +aspirant made this generous offer: "I will write you an article every +week if you so wish it, as I have nothing to do after supper." Modest +was the request of another, concerning remuneration: "I do not ask for +money, but would like you to send me a small monkey. I already have a +parrot." + +But no finer specimen of unconscious humor has ever fallen under the +sub-editorial eye than "The Beautiful Circus Girl." In these +enterprising days rising young authors sometimes boast in print of their +ignorance of grammar and spelling, but the author of the aforementioned +bit of fiction surpasses them all in that respect. It seems only just +that such a unique gem should be rescued from the dull obscurity of the +waste-basket. + + +THE BEAUTIFUL CIRCUS GIRL + +Some years ago the quaint but slow little village of Mariana was all on +the qui-of-eve with excitement. Pasted on every tree and sign was +announcements of Hall's circus, and the aperence of pretty Rose Floid in +the pearless feets of tight-rope dancing, and Seignor Paul Paulo as her +attendent. All the vilage was agog, for in their midst had old Hall and +his Wife whome he always (spoke of as the Misus) taken a small but +quaint cotage, so as to make quiet and please Rose whose guardien he +was. + +In the distanse was seen an advancing teem, and mounted on its box +driving was W. Alexander, distinguished as to aperence, tallent, and +that charm, _money_. He was of the most patricien aristocrats of the +place. Placed on the summit of one of those hils that spring up in the +most unexpected ways and degrees was the quaint old Tudor mansion of the +Alexanders called Waterloo, in rememberence of the home of his ancestors +which now rests on the banks of the Potomack; a legend as to war and +romance. Though bearing with him all the honners that Cambridg could +confere, W. Alexander was a faverite in the vilage, being ever ready +with a kind enquiry as to Parent, or peny for marbles, not forgetting +his boyhoods days. Though the beau par excelant of the vilage, and +posessing vast landed estate and a kind retinu, he was not haughty. + +Every one was eger to see Rose perform. She in her pasage too and frow +had won by her sweet manners (many likings) ere she exhibited her skill. + +The eventful hour of promis came and what a crowd was there. Rose came +fourth, asisted by Paul Paulo. His form was molded even as an Apolo, and +his eger eye was fixed on the bony girl. She ballanced her pole, saught +her equiliberum, and every heart was at her desposal, not accepting W. +Alexander. Seeing this, the dark pashonate eye of the Italian scowled. + +So droped the curtain of the first performance. And W. Alexander stroled +on towards his home, heart and head full of the beautiful circus girl, +thoughts were very conflicting, love at first sight. + +(We will skip, for want of space, the exquisite passages descriptive of +the mutual love of Rose and W. Alexander, and pass on to the finale.) + +There was a paus, a sencation, and Rose came fourth to meander in +mid-air. Admeration was at its hight, as she swayed too and frow as it +were a winged egle from some etherial climb. + +Low! a paus--the rope snaps--and Rose falls to erth a helpless mass of +youth and beauty. The venerable man of medicin closed her star-lit eyes +now forever dimed to this world. And all knew she had walked the last +rope that bound her to this erth. + +What, who, was her murderer? + +The rope seemed to be cut with some jaged instrument so that when her +tiny feat pressed its coils it became her destroyer. + +Suspician pointed at the Italian. + +W. Alexander's old Father of sympathy now the strongest, entreted our +Hero to sale for distent shores, there asisted by that balm time and +change, there assuage his grefe. + +Well, came the last evening, and with the sadest of hearts and a bunch +of sweet violets W. Alexander went to bid a long fare well. + +But as he neared the sacred spot his heart seemed deadened. Prone on her +grave changing the snowy whiteness of the flowers with its crimson die +was the body of Paul Paulo. Who by his own hand caused his life blood to +floe as an attonement. + + + + +UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDYWINE + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + + Up and down old Brandywine, + In the days 'at's past and gone-- + With a dad-burn hook-and-line + And a saplin'-pole--i swawn! + I've had more fun, to the square + Inch, than ever _any_where! + Heaven to come can't discount mine + Up and down old Brandywine! + + Haint no sense in _wishin'_--yit + Wisht to goodness I _could_ jes + "Gee" the blame world round and git + Back to that old happiness!-- + Kindo' drive back in the shade + "The old Covered Bridge" there laid + Crosst the crick, and sorto' soak + My soul over, hub and spoke! + + Honest, now!--it haint no _dream_ + 'At I'm wantin',--but _the fac's_ + As they wuz; the same old stream, + And the same old times, i jacks!-- + Gim me back my bare feet--and + Stonebruise too!--And scratched and tanned! + And let hottest dog-days shine + Up and down old Brandywine! + + In and on betwixt the trees + 'Long the banks, pour down yer noon, + Kindo' curdled with the breeze + And the yallerhammer's tune; + And the smokin', chokin' dust + O' the turnpike at its wusst-- + _Saturd'ys_, say, when it seems + Road's jes jammed with country teams!-- + + Whilse the old town, fur away + 'Crosst the hazy pastur'-land, + Dozed-like in the heat o' day + Peaceful' as a hired hand. + Jolt the gravel th'ough the floor + O' the old bridge!--grind and roar + With yer blame percession-line-- + Up and down old Brandywine! + + Souse me and my new straw-hat + Off the foot-log!--what _I_ care?-- + Fist shoved in the crown o' that-- + Like the old Clown ust to wear. + Wouldn't swop it fer a' old + Gin-u-wine raal crown o' gold!-- + Keep yer _King_ ef you'll gim me + Jes the boy I ust to be! + + Spill my fishin'-worms! er steal + My best "goggle-eye!"--but you + Can't lay hands on joys I feel + Nibblin' like they ust to do! + So, in memory, to-day + Same old ripple lips away + At my cork and saggin' line, + Up and down old Brandywine! + + There the logs is, round the hill, + Where "Old Irvin" ust to lift + Out sunfish from daylight till + Dew-fall--'fore he'd leave "The Drift" + And give _us_ a chance--and then + Kindo' fish back home again, + Ketchin' 'em jes left and right + Where _we_ hadn't got "a bite!" + + Er, 'way windin' out and in,-- + Old path th'ough the iurnweeds + And dog-fennel to yer chin-- + Then come suddent, th'ough the reeds + And cat-tails, smack into where + Them-air woods-hogs ust to scare + Us clean 'crosst the County-line, + Up and down old Brandywine! + + But the dim roar o' the dam + It 'ud coax us furder still + Tords the old race, slow and ca'm, + Slidin' on to Huston's mill-- + Where, I 'spect, "The Freeport crowd" + Never _warmed_ to us er 'lowed + We wuz quite so overly + Welcome as we aimed to be. + + Still it peared-like ever'thing-- + Fur away from home as _there_-- + Had more _relish_-like, i jing!-- + Fish in stream, er bird in air! + O them rich old bottom-lands, + Past where Cowden's Schoolhouse stands! + Wortermelons--_master-mine!_ + Up and down old Brandywine! + + And sich pop-paws!--Lumps o' raw + Gold and green,--jes oozy th'ough + With ripe yaller--like you've saw + Custard-pie with no crust to: + And jes _gorges_ o' wild plums, + Till a feller'd suck his thumbs + Clean up to his elbows! _My!_-- + _Me some more er lem me die!_ + + Up and down old Brandywine!... + Stripe me with pokeberry-juice!-- + Flick me with a pizenvine + And yell "_Yip!_" and lem me loose! + --Old now as I then wuz young, + 'F I could sing as I _have_ sung, + Song 'ud surely ring _dee-vine_ + Up and down old Brandywine! + + + + +JONES + +BY LLOYD OSBOURNE + + +I + +I could have taken "No" like a man, and would have gone away decently +and never bothered her again. I told her so straight out in the first +angry flush of my rejection--but this string business, with everything +left hanging in the air, so to speak, made a fellow feel like thirty +cents. + +"It simply means that I'm engaged and you are not," I said. + +"It's nothing of the kind," she returned tearfully. "You're as free as +free, Ezra. You can go away this moment, and never write or anything!" + +Her lips trembled as she said this, and I confess it gave me a kind of +savage pleasure to feel that it was still in my power to hurt her. + +It may sound unkind, but still you must admit that the whole situation +was exasperating. Here was five-foot-five of exquisite, blooming, +twenty-year-old American girlhood sending away the man she confessed to +care for, because, forsooth, she would not marry before her elder +sister! I always thought it was beautiful of Freddy (she was named +Frederica, you know) to be always so sweet and tender and grateful about +Eleanor; but sometimes gratitude can be carried altogether too far, even +if you _are_ an orphan, and _were_ brought up by hand. Eleanor was +thirty-four if a day--a nice enough woman, of course, and college bred, +and cultivated, and clever--but her long suit wasn't good looks. She was +tall and bony; worshipped genius and all that; and played the violin. + +"No," repeated Freddy, "I shall never, never marry before Eleanor. It +would mortify her--I know it would--and make her feel that she herself +had failed. She's awfully frank about those things, Ezra--surprisingly +frank. I don't see why being an old maid is always supposed to be so +funny, do you? It's touching and tragic in a woman who'd like to marry +and who isn't asked!" + +"But Eleanor must have had heaps of offers," I said, "surely--" + +"Just one." + +"Well, one's something," I remarked cheerfully. "Why didn't she take him +then?" + +"She told me only last night that she was sorry she hadn't!" + +Here, at any rate, was something to chew on. I saw a gleam of hope. Why +shouldn't Eleanor marry the only one--and make us all happy! + +"That was three years ago," said Freddy. + +"I have loved you for four," I retorted. I was cross with +disappointment. To be dashed to the ground, you know, just as I was +beginning--"Tell me some more about him," I went on. I'm a plain +business man and hang on to an idea like a bulldog; once I get my teeth +in they stay in, for all you may drag at me and wallop me with an +umbrella--metaphorically speaking, of course. + +"Tell me his name, where he lives, and all." + +"We were coming back from Colorado, and there was some mistake about our +tickets. They sold our Pullman drawing-room twice over--to Doctor Jones +and his mother, and also to ourselves. You never saw such a fight--and +that led to our making friends, and his proposing to Eleanor!" + +"Then why in Heaven's name didn't she" (it was on the tip of my tongue +to say "jump at him") "take him?" + +"She said she couldn't marry a man who was her intellectual inferior." + +"And was he?" + +"Oh, he was a perfect idiot--but nice, and all that, and tremendously in +love with her. Pity, wasn't it?" + +"The obvious thing to do is to chase him up instantly. Where did you say +he lived?" + +"His mother told me he was going to New York to practice medicine." + +"But didn't you ever hear from him again? I mean, was that the end of it +all?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you don't even know if he has married since?" + +"No!" + +"Nor died?" + +"No." + +"Nor anything at all?" + +"No." + +"What was his first name?" + +"Wait a moment ... let me think ... yes, it was Harry." + +"Just Harry Jones, then, New York City?" + +Freddy laughed forlornly. + +"But he must have had antecedents," I cried out. "There are two ways of +doing this Sherlock Holmes business--backward and forward, you know. +Let's take Doctor Jones backward. As they say in post-office +forms?--what was his place of origin?" + +"New York City." + +"He begins there and ends there, does he, then?" + +"Yes." + +"But how sure are you that Eleanor would marry him if I did manage to +find him and bring him back?" + +"I'm not sure at all." + +"No, but Freddy, listen--it's important. You told me yourself that +she--I want the very identical words she used." + +Freddy reflected. + +"She said she was almost sorry she hadn't accepted that silly doctor!" + +"That doesn't seem much, does it?" I remarked gloomily. + +"Oh, from Eleanor it does, Ezra. She said it quite seriously. She always +hides her feelings under a veil of sarcastic humor, you know." + +"You're certainly a very difficult family to marry," I said. + +"Being an orphan--" she began. + +"Well, I'm going to find that Jones if I--!" + +"Ezra, dear boy, you're crazy. How could you think for a moment that--" + +"I'm off, little girl. Good-by!" + +"Wait a second, Ezra!" + +She rose and went into the next room, reappearing with something in her +hand. She was crying and smiling both at once. I took the little case +she gave me--it was like one of those things that pen-knives are put +in--and looked at her for an explanation. + +"It's the h-h-hindleg of a j-j-jack-rabbit," she said, "shot by a +g-g-grave at the f-f-full of the moon. It's supposed to be l-l-lucky. It +was given to me by a naval officer who got drowned. It's the only way I +can h-h-help you!" + +And thus equipped I started bravely for New York. + + +II + +In the directory I found eleven pages of Joneses; three hundred and +eighty-four Henry Joneses; and (excluding seventeen dentists) +eighty-seven Doctor Henry Joneses. I asked one of the typists in the +office to copy out the list, and prepared to wade in. We were on the eve +of a labor war, and it was exceedingly difficult for me to get away. As +the managing partner of Hodge & Westoby, boxers (not punching boxers, +nor China boxers, but just plain American box-making boxers), I had to +bear the brunt of the whole affair, and had about as much spare time as +you could heap on a ten-cent piece. I had to be firm, conciliatory, +defiant and tactful all at once, and every hour I took off for Jonesing +threatened to blow the business sky-high. It was a tight place and no +mistake, and it was simply jack-rabbit hindleg luck that pulled me +through! + +My first Jones was a hoary old rascal above a drug store. He was a hard +man to get away from, and made such a fuss about my wasting his time +with idle questions that I flung him a dollar and departed. He followed +me down to my cab and insisted on sticking in a giant bottle of his +Dog-Root Tonic. I dropped it overboard a few blocks farther on, and +thought that was the end of it till the whole street began to yell at +me, and a policeman grabbed my horse, while a street arab darted up +breathless with the Dog-Root Tonic. I presented it to him, together with +a quarter, the policeman darkly regarding me as an incipient madman. + +The second Jones was a man of about thirty, a nice, gentlemanly fellow, +in a fine office. I have usually been an off-hand man in business, +accustomed to quick decisions and very little beating about the bush. +But I confess I was rather nonplussed with the second Jones. How the +devil was I to _begin_? His waiting-room was full of people, and I +hardly felt entitled to sit down and gas about one thing and the other +till the chance offered of leading up to the Van Coorts. So I said I had +some queer, shooting sensations in the chest. In five minutes he had me +half-stripped and was pounding my midriff in. And the questions that man +asked! He began with my grandparents, roamed through my childhood and +youth, dissected my early manhood, and finally came down to coffee and +what I ate for breakfast. + +Then it was my turn. + +I asked him, as a starter, whether he had ever been in Colorado? + +No, he hadn't. + +After forty-five minutes of being hammered, and stethoscoped, and +punched, and holding my breath till I was purple, and hopping on one +leg, he said I was a very obscure case of something with nine syllables! + +"At least, I won't be positive with one examination," he said; "but +kindly come to-morrow at nine, when I shall be more at leisure to go +into the matter thoroughly." + +I paid him ten dollars and went sorrowfully away. + +The third Jones was too old to be my man; so was the fourth; the fifth +had gone away the month before, leaving no address; the sixth, however, +was younger and more promising. I thought this time I'd choose something +easier than pains in the chest. I changed them to my left hand. I was +going to keep my clothes on, anyhow. But it wasn't any use. Off they +came. After a decent interval of thumping and grandfathers, and what I +had for breakfast, I managed to get in my question: + +"Ever in Colorado, Doctor?" + +"Oh, dear me, no!" + +Another ten dollars, and nothing accomplished! + +The seventh Jones was again too old; the eighth was a pale hobbledehoy; +the ninth was a loathsome quack; the tenth had died that morning; the +eleventh was busy; the twelfth was a veterinary surgeon; the thirteenth +was an intern living at home with his widowed sister. Colorado? No, the +widowed sister was positive he had never been there. The fourteenth was +a handsome fellow of about thirty-five. He looked poor and threadbare, +and I had a glimpse of a shabby bed behind a screen. Patients obviously +did not often come his way, and his joy at seeing me was pitiful. I had +meant to try a bluff and get in my Colorado question this time free of +charge; but I hadn't the heart to do it. Slight pains in the head seemed +a safe complaint. + +After a few questions he said he would have to make a thorough physical +examination. + +"No clothes off!" I protested. + +"It's essential," he said, and went on with something about the +radio-activity of the brain, and the vasomotor centers. The word motor +made me feel like a sick automobile. I begged to keep my clothes on; I +insisted; I promised to come to-morrow; but it wasn't any good, and in a +few minutes he was hitting me harder than either of the two before. +Maybe I was more tender! He electrocuted me extra from a switchboard, +ran red-hot needles into my legs, and finally, after banging me around +the room, said I was the strongest and wellest man who had ever entered +his office. + +"There's a lot of make-believe in medicine," he said; "but I'm one of +those poor devils who can't help telling a patient the truth. There's +nothing whatever the matter with you, Mr. Westoby, except that your skin +has a slightly abrased look, and I seem to notice an abnormal +sensitiveness to touch." + +"Were you ever in Colorado, Doctor?" I asked while he was good enough to +help me into my shirt. + +"Oh, yes, I know Colorado well!" + +My heart beat high. + +"Some friends of mine were out there three years ago," I said. "Wouldn't +it be strange if by any chance the Van Coorts--" + +"Oh, I left Denver when I was fifteen." + +Five dollars! + +The fifteenth Jones was a doctor of divinity; the sixteenth was a +tapeworm specialist; the seventeenth was too old, the eighteenth was too +old, the nineteenth was too old--a trio of disappointing patriarchs. The +twentieth painted out black eyes; the twenty-first was a Russian who +could scarcely speak any English. He said he had changed his name from +Karaforvochristophervitch to something more suited to American +pronunciation. He seemed to think that Jones gave him a better chance. I +sincerely hope it did. He told me that all the rest of the Jones family +was in Siberia, but that he was going to bomb them out! The +twenty-second was a negro. The twenty-third--! He was a tall, youngish +man, narrow-shouldered, rather commonplace-looking, with beautiful blue +eyes, and a timid, winning, deprecatory manner. I told him I was +suffering from insomnia. After raking over my grandfathers again and +bringing the family history down by stages to the very moment I was +shown into his office he said he should have to ask me to undergo a +thorough physical--! But I was tired of being slapped and punched and +breathed on and prodded, and was bold enough to refuse point-blank. I'd +rather have the insomnia! We worked up quite a fuss about it, for there +was something tenacious in the fellow, for all his mild, kind, gentle +ways; and I had all I could do to get off by pleading press of +business. But I wasn't to escape scot-free. Medical science had to get +even somehow. He compromised by stinging my eye out with belladonna. +Have _you_ ever had belladonna squirted in _your_ eye? Well, don't. + +He was sitting at the table, writing out some cabalistic wiggles that +stood for bromide of potassium, when I remarked casually that it was +strange how well I could always sleep in Colorado. + +He laid down the pen with a sigh. + +"A wonderful state--Colorado," I observed. + +"To me it's the land of memories," he said. "Sad, beautiful, irrevocable +memories--try tea for breakfast--do you read Browning? Then you will +remember that line: 'Oh, if I--' And I insist on your giving up that +cocktail before dinner." + +"Some very dear friends of mine were once in Colorado," I said. +"Morristown people--the Van Coorts." + +"The Van Coorts!" + +Doctor Jones sprang from his chair, his thin, handsome face flushing +with excitement. + +"Do you mean to say that you know Eleanor Van Coort?" he gasped. + +"All my life." + +He dropped back into the chair again and mumbled something about cigars. +I was only to have blank a day. In his perturbation I believe he limited +me to a daily box. He was trying--and trying very badly--to conceal the +emotions I had conjured up. + +"They were talking about you only yesterday," I went on. "That is, if it +_was_ you! A Pullman drawing-room--" + +"And a mistake about the tickets," he broke out. "Yes, yes, it's they +all right. Talking about me, did you say? Did Eleanor--I mean, did Miss +Van Coort--express--?" + +"She was wondering how she could find you," I said. "You see, they're +busy getting up a house-party and she was running over her men. 'If I +only knew where that dear Doctor Jones was,' she said, and then asked +me, if by any possible chance--" + +His fine blue eyes were glistening with all sorts of tender thoughts. It +was really touching. And I was in love myself, you know. + +"So she has remained unmarried!" he exclaimed softly. "Unmarried--after +all these years!" + +"She's a very popular girl," I said. "She's had dozens of men at her +feet--but an unfortunate attachment, something that seems to go back to +about three years ago, has apparently determined her to stay out of the +game!" + +Doctor Jones dropped his head on his hands and murmured something that +sounded like "Eleanor, Eleanor!" Then he looked up with one of the most +radiant smiles I ever saw on a man's face. "I hope I'm not presuming on +a very short acquaintance," he said, "but the fact is--why should I not +tell you?--Miss Van Coort was the woman in my life!" + +I explained to him that Freddy was the woman in mine. + +Then you ought to have seen us fraternize! + +In twenty minutes I had him almost convinced that Eleanor had loved him +all these years. But he worried a lot about a Mr. Wise who had been on +the same train, and a certain Colonel Hadow who had also paid Eleanor +attention. Jones was a great fellow for wanting to be sure. I +pooh-poohed them out of the way and gave him the open track. Then, +indeed, the clouds rolled away. He beamed with joy. In his rich gush of +friendship he recurred to the subject of my insomnia with a new-born +enthusiasm. He subdivided all my symptoms. He dived again into my +physical being. He consulted German authorities. I squirmed and lied +and resisted all I could, but he said he owed me an eternal debt that +could only be liquidated by an absolute cure. He wanted to tie me up and +shoot me with an X-ray. He ordered me to wear white socks. He had a +long, terrifying look at a drop of my blood. He jerked hairs out of my +head to sample my nerve force. He said I was a baffling subject, but +that he meant to make me well if it took the last shot in the scientific +locker. And he wound up at last by refusing point-blank to be paid a +cent! + +I waltzed away on air to write an account of the whole affair to Freddy, +and dictate a plan of operations. I was justified in feeling proud of +myself. Most men would have tamely submitted to their fate instead of +chasing up all the Joneses of Jonesville! Freddy sent me an early +answer--a gay, happy, overflowing little note--telling me to try and +engage Doctor Jones for a three-day house-party at Morristown. I was to +telegraph when he could come, and was promised an official invitation +from Mrs. Matthewman. (She was the aunt, you know, that they lived +with--one of those old porcelain ladies with a lace cap and a +rent-roll.) However, I could not do anything for two days, for we had +reached a crisis in the labor troubles, and matters were approaching the +breaking point. We were threatened with one of those "sympathetic" +strikes that drive business men crazy. There was no question at issue +between ourselves and our employes; but the thing ramified off somewhere +to the sugar vacuum-boiler riveters' union. Finally the S.V.B.R.U. came +to a settlement with their bosses, and peace was permitted to descend on +Hodge & Westoby's. + +I took immediate advantage of it to descend myself on Doctor Jones. He +received me with open arms and an insomniacal outburst. He had been +reading up; he had been seeing distinguished confrères; he had been +mastering the subject to the last dot, and was panting to begin. I hated +to dampen such friendship and ardor by telling him that I had completely +recovered. Under the circumstances it seemed brutal--but I did it. The +poor fellow tried to argue with me, but I insisted that I now slept like +a top. It sounded horribly ungrateful. Here I was spurning the treasures +of his mind, and almost insulting him with my disgusting good health. I +swerved off to the house-party; Eleanor's delight, and so on; Mrs. +Matthewman's pending invitation; the hope that he might have an early +date free-- + +He listened to it all in silence, walking restlessly about the office, +his blue eyes shining with a strange light. He took up a bronze +paper-weight and gazed at it with an intensity of self-absorption. + +"I can't go," he said. + +"Oh, but you have to," I exclaimed. + +"Mr. Westoby," he resumed, "I was foolish enough to back a friend's +credit at a store here. He has skipped to Minnesota, and I am left with +three hundred and four dollars and seventy-five cents to pay. To take a +three days' holiday would be a serious matter to me at any time, but at +this moment it is impossible." + +I gave him a good long look. He didn't strike me as a borrowing kind of +man. I should probably insult him by volunteering. Was there ever +anything so unfortunate? + +"I can't go," he repeated with a little choke. + +"You may never have another opportunity," I said. "Eleanor is doing a +thing I should never have expected from one of her proud and reserved +nature. The advances of such a woman--" + +He interrupted me with a groan. + +"If it wasn't for my mother I'd throw everything to the winds and fly to +her," he burst out. "But I have a mother--a sainted mother, Mr. +Westoby--her welfare must always be my first consideration!" + +"Is there no chance of anything turning up?" I said. "An appendicitis +case--an outbreak of measles? I thought there was a lot of scarlatina +just now." + +He shook his head dejectedly. + +"Doctor," I began again, "I am pretty well fixed myself. I'm blessed +with an income that runs to five figures. If all goes the way it should +we shall be brothers-in-law in six months. We are almost relations. Give +me the privilege of taking over this small obligation--" + +I never saw a man so overcome. My proposal seemed to tear the poor devil +to pieces. When he spoke his voice was trembling. + +"You don't know what it means to me to refuse," he said. "My +self-respect ... my--my...." And then he positively began to weep! + +"You said three hundred and four dollars and seventy-five cents, I +believe?" + +He waved it from him with a long, lean hand. + +"I can not do it," he said; "and, for God's sake, don't ask me to!" + +I argued with him for twenty minutes; I laid the question before him in +a million lights; I racked him with a picture of Eleanor, so deeply +hurt, so mortified, that in her recklessness and despair she would +probably throw herself away on the first man that offered! This was his +chance, I told him; the one chance of his life; he was letting a piece +of idiotic pride wreck the probable happiness of years. He agreed with +me with moans and weeps. He had the candor of a child and the torrential +sentiment of a German musician. Three hundred and four dollars and +seventy-five cents stood between him and eternal bliss, and yet he waved +my pocketbook from him! And all the while I saw myself losing Freddy. + +I went away with his "no, no, no!" still ringing in my ears. + +At the club I found a note from Freddy. She pressed me to lose no time. +Mrs. Matthewman was talking of going to Europe, and of course she and +Eleanor would have to accompany her. Eleanor, she said, had ordered two +new gowns and had brightened up wonderfully. "Only yesterday she told me +she wished that silly doctor would hurry up and come--and that, you +know, from Eleanor is almost a declaration!" + +Some of my best friends happened to be in the club. It occurred to me +that poor Nevill was diabetic, and that Charley Crossman had been boring +everybody about his gout. I buttonholed them both, and laid my +unfortunate predicament before them. I said I'd pay all the expenses. In +fact, the more they could make it cost the better I'd be pleased. + +"What," roared Nevill, "put myself in the hands of a young fool so that +he may fill his empty pockets with your money! Where do _I_ come in? +Good heavens, Westoby, you're crazy! Think what would happen to me if it +came to Doctor Saltworthy's ears? He'd never have anything more to do +with me!" + +Charley Crossman was equally rebellious and unreasonable. + +"I guess you've never had the gout," he said grimly. + +"But Charley, old man," I pleaded, "all that you'd have to do would be +to let him _talk_ to you. I don't ask you to suffer for it. Just +pay--that's all--pay my money!" + +"I'm awfully easily talked into things," said Charley. (There was never +such a mule on the Produce Exchange.) "He'd be saying, 'Take this'--and +I'm the kind of blankety-blank fool that would take it!" + +Then I did a mean thing. I reminded Crossman of having backed some bills +of his--big bills, too--at a time when it was touch and go whether he'd +manage to keep his head above water. + +"Westoby," he replied, "don't think that time has lessened my sense of +that obligation. I'd cut off my right hand to do you a good turn. But +for heaven's sake, don't ask me to monkey with my gout!" + +The best I could get out of him was the promise of an anemic +servant-girl. Nevill generously threw in a groom with varicose veins. +Small contributions, but thankfully received. + +"Now, what you do," said Nevill, "is to go round right off and interview +Bishop Jordan. He has sick people to burn!" + +But I said Jones would get on to it if I deluged him with the misery of +the slums. + +"That's just where the bishop comes in," said Nevill. "There isn't a man +more in touch with the saddest kind of poverty in New York--the decent, +clean, shrinking poverty that hides away from all the dead-head coffee +and doughnuts. If I was in your fix I'd fall over myself to reach +Jordan!" + +"Yes, you try Jordan," said Charley, who, I'm sure, had never heard of +him before. + +"Then it's me for Jordan," said I. + +I went down stairs and told one of the bell-boys to look up the address +in the telephone-book. It seemed to me he looked pale, that boy. + +"Aren't you well, Dan?" I said. + +"I don't know what's the matter with me, sir. I guess it must be the +night work." + +I gave him a five-dollar bill and made him write down 1892 Eighth Avenue +on a piece of paper. + +"You go and see Doctor Jones first thing," I said. "And don't mention my +name, nor spend the money on _Her Mad Marriage_." + +I jumped into a hansom with a pleasant sense that I was beginning to +make the fur fly. + +"That's a horrible cold of yours, Cabby," I said as we stopped at the +bishop's door and I handed him up a dollar bill. "That's just the kind +of a cold that makes graveyards hum!" + +"I can't shake it off, sir," he said despondently. "Try what I can, and +it's never no use!" + +"There's one doctor in the world who can cure anything," I said; "Doctor +Henry Jones, 1892 Eighth Avenue. I was worse than you two weeks ago, and +now look at me! Take this five dollars, and for heaven's sake, man, put +yourself in his hands quick." + +Bishop Jordan was a fine type of modern clergyman. He was +broad-shouldered mentally as well as physically, and he brought to +philanthropic work the thoroughness, care, enthusiasm and capacity that +would have earned him a fortune in business. + +"Bishop," I said, "I've come to see if I can't make a trade with you!" + +He raised his grizzled eyebrows and gave me a very searching look. + +"A trade," he repeated in a holding-back kind of tone, as though +wondering what the trap was. + +"Here's a check for one thousand dollars drawn to your order," I went +on. "And here's the address of Doctor Henry Jones, 1892 Eighth Avenue. I +want this money to reach him via your sick people, and that without my +name being known or at all suspected." + +"May I not ask the meaning of so peculiar a request?" + +"He's hard up," I said, "and I want to help him. It occurred to me that +I might make you--er--a confederate in my little game, you know." + +His eyes twinkled as he slowly folded up my check and put it in his +pocket. + +"I don't want any economy about it, Bishop," I went on. "I don't want to +make the best use of it, or anything of that kind. I want to slap it +into Doctor Jones' till, and slap it in quick." + +"Would you consider two weeks--?" + +"Oh, one, please!" + +"It is understood, of course, that this young man is a duly qualified +and capable physician, and that in the event of my finding it otherwise +I shall be at liberty to direct your check to other uses?" + +"Oh, I can answer for his being all right, Bishop. He's thoroughly +up-to-date, you know; does the X-ray act; and keeps the pace of modern +science." + +"You say you can answer for him," said the bishop genially. "Might I +inquire who _you_ are?" + +"I'm named Westoby--Ezra Westoby--managing partner of Hodge & Westoby, +boxers." + +"I like boxers," said the bishop in the tone of a benediction, rising to +dismiss me. "I like one thousand dollar checks, too. When you have any +more to spare just give them a fair wind in this direction!" + +I went out feeling that the Episcopal Church had risen fifty per cent. +in my esteem. Bishops like that would make a success of any +denomination. I like to see a fellow who's on to his job. + +I gave Jones a week to grapple with the new developments, and then +happened along. The anteroom was full, and there was a queue down the +street like a line of music-loving citizens waiting to hear Patti. +Nice, decent-looking people, with money in their hands. (I always like +to see a cash business, don't you?) I guess it took me an hour to crowd +my way up stairs, and even then I had to buy a man out of the line. + +Jones was carrying off the boom more quietly than I cared about. He wore +a curt, snappy air. I don't know why, but I felt misgivings as I shook +hands with him. + +Of course I commented on the rush. + +"The Lord only knows what's happened to my practice," he said. "The +blamed thing has gone up like a rocket. It seems to me there must be a +great wave of sickness passing over New York just now." + +"Everybody's complaining," I said. + +This reminded him of my insomnia till I cut him short. + +"What's the matter with our going down to the Van Coorts' from Saturday +to Tuesday," I said. "They haven't given up the hope of seeing you +there, Doctor, and the thing's still open." + +Then I waited for him to jump with joy. + +He didn't jump a bit. He shook his head. He distinctly said "No." + +"I told you it was the money side of it that bothered me," he explained. +"So it was at the time, for, of course, I couldn't foresee that my +practice was going to fill the street and call for policemen to keep +order. But, my dear Westoby, after giving the subject a great deal of +consideration I have come to the conclusion that it would be too painful +for me to revive those--those--unhappy emotions I was just beginning to +recover from!" + +"I thought you loved her!" I exclaimed. + +"That's why I've determined not to go," he said. "I have outlived one +refusal. How do I know I have the strength, the determination, the +hardihood to undergo the agonies of another?" + +It seemed a feeble remark to say that faint heart never won fair lady. I +growled it out more like a swear than anything else. I was disgusted +with the chump. + +"She's the star above me," he said; "and I am crushed by my own +presumption. Is there any such fool as the man that breaks his heart +twice for the impossible?" + +"But it isn't impossible," I cried. "Hasn't she--as far as a woman +can--hasn't she called you back to her? What more do you expect her to +do? A woman's delicacy forbids her screaming for a man! I think Eleanor +has already gone a tremendous way in just hinting--" + +"You may be right," he said pathetically; "but then you may also be +wrong. The risk is too terrible for me to run. It will comfort me all my +life to think that perhaps she does love me in secret!" + +"Do you mean to say you're going to give it all up?" I roared. + +"You needn't get so warm about it," he returned. "After all, I have some +justification in thinking she doesn't care." + +"What on earth do you suppose she invited you for, then?" + +"Well, it would be different," he said, "if I had a note from her--a +flower--some little tender reminder of those dear old dead days in the +Pullman!" + +"She's saving up all that for Morristown," I said. + +For the first time in our acquaintance Doctor Jones looked at me with +suspicion. His blue eyes clouded. He was growing a little restive under +my handling. + +"You seem to make the matter a very personal one," he observed. + +"Well, I love Freddy," I explained. "It naturally brings your own case +very close to me. And then I am so positive that you love Eleanor and +that Eleanor loves you. Put yourself in my place, Doctor! Do you mean +that you'd do nothing to bring two such noble hearts together?" + +He seized my hand and wrung it effusively. He really _did_ love Eleanor, +you know. The only fault with him was his being so darned humble about +it. He was eaten up with a sense of his own inferiority. And yet I could +see he was just tingling to go to Morristown. Of course, I crowded him +all I could, but the best I could accomplish was his promise to "think +it over." I hated to leave him wabbling, but patients were scuffling at +the door and fighting on the stairs. + +The next thing I did was to get Freddy on the long-distance 'phone. + +"Freddy," I said, after explaining the situation, "you must get Eleanor +to telegraph to him direct!" + +"What's the good of asking what she won't do?" bubbled the sweet little +voice. + +"Can't you persuade her?" + +"I know she won't do it!" + +"Then you must forge it," I said desperately. "It needn't be anything +red-hot, you know. But something tender and sincere: 'Shall be awfully +disappointed if you don't come,' or, 'There was a time when you would +not have failed me!'" + +"It's impossible." + +"Then he won't budge a single inch!" I replied. + +"Ezra?" + +"Darling!" + +"Suppose I just signed the telegram Van Coort?" + +"The very thing!" + +"If he misunderstood it--I mean if he thought it really came from +Eleanor--there couldn't be any fuss about it afterward, could there?" + +"And, of course, you'll send the official invitation from Mrs. +Matthewman besides?" + +"For Saturday?" + +"Yes, Saturday!" + +"And _you'll_ come?" + +"Just watch me!" + +"Ezra, are you happy?" + +"That depends on Jones." + +"Oh, isn't it exciting?" + +"I have the ring in my pocket--" + +"But touch wood, won't you?" + +"Freddy?" + +"Yes--" + +"What's the matter with getting some forget-me-nots and mailing them to +Jones in an envelope?" + +"All right, I'll attend to it. Eighteen ninety-two Eighth Avenue, isn't +it?" + +"Be sure it _is_ forget-me-nots, you know. Don't mix up the language of +flowers, and send him one that says: 'I'm off with a handsomer man,' or, +'You needn't come round any more!'" + +"Oh, Ezra, Eleanor is really getting quite worked up!" + +"So am I!" + +"Wouldn't it be perfectly splendid if--Switch off quick, here's aunt +coming!" + +"Mayn't I even say I love you?" + +"I daren't say it back, Ezra--she's calling." + +"But _do_ you?" + +"Yes, unfortunately--" + +"Why unfortun--?" + +Buzz-buzz-swizzleum-bux-bux!--Aunt had cut us off. However, short as my +talk with Freddy had been, it brightened my whole day. + +Late the same afternoon I went back to Doctor Jones. I was prepared to +find him uplifted, but I hadn't counted on his being maudlin. The fellow +was drunk, positively drunk--with happiness. His tongue ran on like a +mill-stream. I had to sit down and have the whole Pullman-car episode +inflicted on me a second time. I was shown the receipt-slip. I was shown +the telegram from Eleanor. I was shown with a whoop the forget-me-nots! +Then he was going on Saturday? I asked. He said he guessed it would take +an earthquake to keep him away, and a pretty big earthquake, too!... Oh, +it was a great moment, and all the greater because I was tremendously +worked up, too. I saw Freddy floating before me, my sweet, girlish, +darling Freddy, holding out her arms ... while Jones gassed and gassed +and gassed.... + +I left him taking phenacetin for his headache. + + +III + +The house-party had grown a little larger than was originally intended. +On Saturday night we sat down twelve to dinner. Doctor Jones and I +shared a room together, and I must say whatever misgivings I might have +had about him wore away very quickly on closer acquaintance. In the +first place he looked well in evening dress, carrying himself with a +sort of shy, kind air that became him immensely. At table he developed +the greatest of conversational gifts--that of the appreciative and +intelligent listener. I heard one of the guests asking Eleanor who was +that charming young man. Freddy and I hugged each other (I mean +metaphorically, of course) and gloried in his success. In the presence +of an admirer (such is the mystery of women) Eleanor instantly got +fifteen points better looking, and you wouldn't have known her for the +same girl. Freddy thought it was the two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar gown +she wore, but I could see it was deeper than that. She was thawing in +the sunshine of love, and I'll do Doctor Jones the justice to say that +he didn't hide his affection under a bushel. It was generous enough for +everybody to bask in, and in his pell-mell ardor he took us all to his +bosom. The women loved him for it, and entered into a tacit conspiracy +to gain him the right-of-way to wherever Eleanor was to be found. In +fact, he followed her about like a dog, and she could scarcely move +without stepping on him. + +Sunday was even better. One of the housemaids drank some wood-alcohol by +mistake for vichy water, and the resulting uproar redounded to Jones' +coolness, skill and despatch. He dominated the situation and--well, I +won't describe it, this not being a medical work, and the reader +probably being a good guesser. Mrs. Matthewman remarked significantly +that it must be nice to be the wife of a medical man--one would always +have the safe feeling of a doctor at hand in case anything happened at +night! Eleanor said it was a beautiful profession that had for its +object the alleviation of human pain. Freddy jealously tried to get in a +good word for boxers, but nobody would listen to her except me. It was +all Jones, Jones, Jones, and the triumphs of modern medicine. Altogether +he sailed through that whole day with flying colors, first with the +housemaid, and then afterward at church, where he was the only one that +knew what Sunday after Epiphany it was. He made it plainer than ever +that he was a model young man and a pattern. Mrs. Matthewman compared +him to her departed husband, and talked about old-fashioned courtesy and +the splendid men of her youth. Everybody fell over everybody else to +praise him. It was a regular Jones boom. People began to write down his +address, and ask him if he'd be free Thursday, or what about Friday, and +started to book seats in advance. + +That evening, as I was washing my hands before dinner and cheerfully +whistling _Hiawatha_, I became conscious that Jones was lolling back on +a sofa at the dark end of the room. What particularly arrested my +attention was a groan--preceded by a pack of heartrending sighs. It +worried me--when everything seemed to be going so well. He had every +right to be whistling _Hiawatha_, too. + +"What's the matter, Jones?" said I. + +He keeled over on the sofa, and groaned louder than ever. + +"It isn't possible--that she's refused you?" I exclaimed. He muttered +something about his mother. + +"Well, what about your mother?" I said. + +"Westoby," he returned, "I guess I was the worst kind of fool ever to +put my foot into this house." + +That was nice news, wasn't it? Just as I was settling in my head to buy +that Seventy-second Street place, and alter the basement into a garage! + +"You see, old man, my mother would never consent to my marrying Eleanor. +I'm in the position of having to choose between her and the woman I +love. And I owe so much to my mother, Westoby. She stinted herself for +years to get me through college; she hardly had enough to eat; she...." +Then he groaned a lot more. + +"I can't think that your mother--a mother like yours, Jones--would +consent to stand between you and your lifelong happiness. It's +morbid--that's what I call it--morbid, just to dream of such a thing." + +"There's Bertha," he quavered. + +"Great Scott, and who's Bertha?" + +"The girl my mother chose for me two years ago--Bertha McNutt, you know. +She'd really prefer me not to marry at all, but if I must--it's Bertha, +Westoby--Bertha or nothing!" + +"It's too late to say that now, old fellow." + +"It's not too late for me to go home this very night." + +"Well, Jones," I broke out, "I can't think you'd do such a caddish thing +as that. Think it over for a minute. You come down here; you sweep that +unfortunate girl off her feet; you make love to her with the fury of a +stage villain; you force her to betray her very evident partiality for +you--and then you have the effrontery to say: 'Good-by. I'm off.'" + +"My mother--" he began. + +"You simply can not act so dishonorably, Jones." + +He sat silent for a little while. + +"My mother--" he started in again finally. + +"Surely your mother loves you?" I demanded. + +"That's the terrible part of it, Westoby, she--" + +"Pooh!" + +"She stinted herself to get me through col--" + +"Then why did you ever come here?" + +"That's just the question I'm asking myself now." + +"I don't see that you have any right to assume all that about your mother, +anyway. Eleanor Van Coort is a woman of a thousand--unimpeachable social +position--a little fortune of her own--accomplished, handsome, charming, +sought after--why, if you managed to win such a girl as that your mother +would walk on air." + +"No, she wouldn't. Bertha--" + +"You're a pretty cheap lover," I said. "I don't set up to be a little +tin hero, but I'd go through fire and water for _my_ girl. Good heavens, +love is love, and all the mothers--" + +He let out a few more groans. + +"Then, see here, Jones," I went on, "you owe some courtesy to our +hostess. If you went away to-night it would be an insult. Whatever you +decide to do later, you've simply got to stay here till Tuesday +morning!" + +"Must I?" he said, in the tone of a person who is ordered not to leave +the sinking ship. + +"A gentleman has to," I said. + +He quavered out a sort of acquiescence, and then asked me for the loan +of a white tie. I should have loved to give him a bowstring instead, +with somebody who knew how to operate it. He was a fluff, that fellow--a +tarnation fluff! + + +IV + +It was a pretty glum evening all round. Most of them thought that Jones +had got the chilly mitt. Eleanor looked pale and undecided, not knowing +what to make of Jones' death's-head face. She was resentful and pitying +in turns, and I saw all the material lying around for a first-class +conflagration. Freddy was a bit down on me, too, saying that a smoother +method would have ironed out Jones, and that I had been headlong and +silly. She cried over it, and wouldn't kiss me in the dark; and I was +goaded into saying--well, the course of true love ran in bumps that +night. There was only one redeeming circumstance, and that was my +managing to keep Jones and Eleanor apart. I mean that I insisted on +being number three till at last poor Eleanor said she had a headache, +and forlornly went up to bed. + +Jones was still asleep when I got up the next morning at six and dressed +myself quietly so as not to awake him. It was now Monday, and you can +see for yourself there was no time to spare. I gave the butler a dollar, +and ordered him to say that unexpected business had called me away +without warning, but that I should be back by luncheon. I rather overdid +the earliness of it all. At least, I hove off 1892 Eighth Avenue at +eight-fifteen A.M. I loitered about; looked at pawnshop windows; gave a +careful examination to a forty-eight-dollar-ninety-eight-cent complete +outfit for a four-room flat; had a chat with a policeman; assisted at a +runaway; advanced a nickel to a colored gentleman in distress; had my +shoes shined by another; helped a child catch an escaped parrot--and +still it wasn't nine! Idleness is a grinding occupation, especially on +Eighth Avenue in the morning. + +Mrs. Jones was a thin, straight-backed, brisk old lady, with a keen +tongue, and a Yankee faculty for coming to the point. I besought her +indulgence, and laid the whole Eleanor matter before her--at least, as +much of it as seemed wise. I appeared in the rôle of her son's warmest +admirer and best friend. + +"Surely you won't let Harry ruin his life from a mistaken sense of his +duty to you?" + +"Duty, fiddlesticks!" said she. "He's going to marry Bertha McNutt!" + +"But he doesn't want to marry Bertha McNutt!" + +"Then he needn't marry anybody." + +She seemed to think this a triumphant answer. Indeed, in some ways I +must confess it was. But still I persevered. + +"It puts me out to have him shilly-shallying around like this," she +said. "I'll give him a good talking to when he gets back. This other +arrangement has been understood between Mrs. McNutt and myself for +years." + +She was an irritating person. I found it not a little difficult to keep +my temper with her. It's easier to fight dragons than to temporize with +them and appeal to their better nature. I appealed and appealed. She +watched me with the same air of interested detachment that one gives to +a squirrel revolving in a cage. I could feel that she was flattered; her +sense of power was agreeably tickled; my earnestness and despair +enhanced the zest of her reiterated refusals. I was a very nice young +man, but her son was going to marry Bertha McNutt or marry nobody! + +Then I tried to draw a lurid picture of his revolt from her +apron-strings. + +"Oh, Harry's a good boy," she said. "You can't make me believe that two +days has altered his whole character. I'll answer for his doing what I +want." + +I felt a precisely similar conviction, and my heart sank into my shoes. + +At this moment there was a tap at the door, and another old lady bounced +in. She was stout, jolly-looking and effusive. The greetings between the +pair were warm, and they were evidently old friends. But underneath the +new-comer's gush and noise I was dimly conscious of a sort of gay +hostility. She was exultant and frightened, both at once, and her eyes +were sparkling. + +"Well, what do you think?" she cried out explosively. + +Mrs. Jones' lips tightened. There was a mean streak in that old woman. I +could see she was feeling for her little hatchet, and was getting out +her little gun. + +"Bertha!" exploded the old lady. "Bertha--" + +(Mysterious mental processes at once informed me that this was none +other than Bertha's mother.) + +Mrs. Jones was coolly taking aim. I was reminded of that old military +dictum: "Don't shoot till you see the whites of their eyes!" + +"Bertha," vociferated the old lady fiercely--"Bertha has been secretly +married to Mr. Stuffenhammer for the last three months!" + +Another series of kinematographic mental processes informed me that Mr. +Stuffenhammer was an immense catch. + +"Twenty thousand dollars a year, and her own carriage," continued Mrs. +McNutt gloatingly. "You could have knocked me down with a feather. +Bertha is such a considerate child; she insisted on marrying secretly so +that she could tone it down by degrees to poor Harry; though there was +no engagement or anything like that, she could not help feeling, of +course, that she owed it to the dear boy to gradually--" + +Mrs. Jones never turned a hair or moved a muscle. + +"You needn't pity Harry," she said. "I've just got the good news that +he's engaged to one of the sweetest and richest girls in Morristown." + +I jumped for my hat and ran. + + +V + +You never saw anybody so electrified as Jones. For a good minute he +couldn't even speak. It was like bringing a horseback reprieve to the +hero on the stage. He repeated "Stuffenhammer, Stuffenhammer," in tones +that Henry Irving might have envied, while I gently undid the noose +around his neck. I led him under a tree and told him to buck up. He did +so--slowly and surely--and then began to ask me agitated questions about +proposing. He deferred to me as though I had spent my whole life +Bluebearding through the social system. He wanted to be coached how to +do it, you know. I told him to rip out the words--any old words--and +then kiss her. + +"Don't let there be any embarrassing pause," I said. "A girl hates +pauses." + +"It seems a great liberty," he returned. "It doesn't strike me as +r-r-respectful." + +"You try it," I said. "It's the only way." + +"I'll be glad when it's over," he remarked dreamily. + +"Whatever you do, keep clear of set speeches," I went on. "Blurt it out, +no matter how badly--but with all the fire and ginger in you." + +He gazed at me like a dead calf. + +"Here goes," he said, and started on a trembling walk toward the house. + +I don't know whether he was afraid, or didn't get the chance, or what +it was; but at any rate the afternoon wore on without the least sign +of his coming to time. I kept tab on him as well as I could--checkers +with Miss Drayton--half an hour writing letters--a long talk with the +major--and finally his getting lost altogether in the shrubbery with +an old lady. Freddy said the suspense was killing her, and was terribly +despondent and miserable. I couldn't interest her in the Seventy-second +Street house at all. She asked what was the good of working and +worrying, and figuring and making lists--when in all probability it +would be another girl that would live there. She had an awfully mean +opinion of my constancy, and was intolerably philosophical and +Oh-I-wouldn't-blame-you-the-least-little-bit-if-you-did-go-off-and-marry-somebody-else! +She took a pathetic pleasure in loving me, losing me, and then weeping +over the dear dead memory. She said nobody ever got what they wanted, +anyway; and might she come, when she was old and ugly and faded and +weary, to take care of my children and be a sort of dear old aunty in +the Seventy-second Street house. I said certainly not, and we had a +fight right away. + +As we were dressing for dinner that night I took Jones to task, and +tried to stiffen him up. I guess I must have mismanaged it somehow, for +he said he'd thank me to keep my paws out of his affairs, and then went +into the bath-room, where he shaved and growled for ten whole minutes. I +itched to throw a bootjack at him, but compromised on doing a little +growling myself. Afterward we got into our clothes in silence, and as he +went out first he slammed the door. + +It was a disheartening evening. We played progressive uchre for a silly +prize, and we all got shuffled up wrong and had to stay so. Then the +major did amateur conjuring till we nearly died. I was thankful to sneak +out-of-doors and smoke a cigar under the starlight. I walked up and +down, consigning Jones to--well, where I thought he belonged. I thought +of the time I had wasted over the fellow--the good money--the hopes--I +was savage with disappointment, and when I heard Freddy softly calling +me from the veranda I zigzagged away through the trees toward the lodge +gate. There are moments when a man is better left alone. Besides, I was +in one of those self-tormenting humors when it is a positive pleasure to +pile on the agony. When you're eighty-eight per cent. miserable it's +hell not to reach par. I was sore all over, and I wanted the balm--the +consolation--to be found in the company of those cold old stars, who had +looked down in their time on such countless generations of human asses. +It gave me a wonderful sense of fellowship with the past and future. + +I was reflecting on what an infinitesimal speck I was in the general +scheme of things, when I heard the footfall of another human speck, +stumbling through the dark and carrying a dress-suit case. It was Jones +himself, outward bound, and doing five knots an hour. I was after him in +a second, doing six. + +"Jones!" I cried. + +He never even turned round. + +I grabbed him by the arm. He wasn't going to walk away from me like +that. + +"Where are you going?" I demanded. + +"Home!" + +"But say, stop; you can't do that. It's too darned rude. We don't break +up till to-morrow." + +"I'm breaking up now," he said. + +"But--" + +"Let go my arm--!" + +"Oh, but, my dear chap--" I began. + +"Don't you dear chap me!" + +We strode on in silence. Even his back looked sullen, and his face under +the gaslights-- + +"Westoby," he broke out suddenly, "if there's one thing I'm sensitive +about it is my name. Slap me in the face, turn the hose on me, rip the +coat off my back--and you'd be astounded by my mildness. But when it +comes to my name I--I'm a tiger!" + +"A tiger," I repeated encouragingly. + +"It all went swimmingly," he continued in a tone of angry confidence. +"For five seconds I was the happiest man in the United States. I--I did +everything you said, you know, and I was dumfounded at my own success. +S-s-she loves me, Westoby." + +I gazed inquiringly at the dress-suit case. + +"We don't belong to any common Joneses. We're Connecticut Joneses. In +fact, we're the only Joneses--and the name is as dear to me, as sacred, +as I suppose that of Westoby is, perhaps, to you. And yet--and yet--do +you know what she actually said to me? Said to me, holding my hand, and, +and--that the only thing she didn't like about me was my _name_." + +I contrived to get out, "Good heavens!" with the proper astonishment. + +"I told her that Van Coort didn't strike me as being anything very +extra." + +"Wouldn't it have been wiser to--?" + +"Oh, for myself, I'd do anything in the world for her. But a fellow has +to show a little decent pride. A fellow owes something to his family, +doesn't he? As a man I love the ground she walks on; as a Jones--well, +if she feels like that about it--I told her she had better wait for a De +Montmorency." + +"But she didn't say she wouldn't marry you, did she?" + +"N-o-o-o!" + +"She didn't ask you to _change_ your name, did she?" + +"N-o-o-o!" + +"And do you mean to say that just for one unfortunate remark--a remark +that any one might have made in the agitation of the moment--you're +deliberately turning your back on her, and her broken heart!" + +"Oh, she's red-hot, too, you know, over what I said about the Van +Coorts." + +"She couldn't have realized that you belonged to the Connecticut +Joneses. _I_ didn't know it. _I_--" + +"Well, it's all off now," he said. + +It was a mile to the depot. For Jones it was a mile of reproaches, +scoldings, lectures and insults. For myself I shall ever remember it as +the mile of my life. I pleaded, argued, extenuated and explained. My +lifelong happiness--Freddy--the Seventy-second Street house--were +walking away from me in the dark while I jerked unavailingly at Jones' +coat-tails. The whole outfit disappeared into a car, leaving me on the +platform with the ashes of my hopes. Of all obstinate, mulish, +pig-headed, copper-riveted-- + +I was lucky enough to find Eleanor crying softly to herself in a corner +of the veranda. The sight of her tears revived my fainting courage. I +thought of Bruce and the spider, and waded in. + +"Eleanor," I said, "I've just been seeing poor Jones off." + +She sobbed out something to the effect that she didn't care. + +"No, you can't care very much," I said, "or you wouldn't send a man like +that--a splendid fellow--a member of one of the oldest and proudest +families of Connecticut--to his death." + +"Death?" + +"Well, he's off for Japan to-morrow. They're getting through fifty +doctors a week out there at the front. They're shot down faster than +they can set them up." + +I was unprepared for the effect of this on Eleanor. For two cents she +would have fainted then and there. It's awful to hear a woman moan, and +clench her teeth, and pant for breath. + +"Oh, Eleanor, can't you do anything?" + +"I am helpless, Ezra. My pride--my woman's pride--" + +"Oh, how can you let such trifles stand between you? Think of him out +there, in his tattered Japanese uniform--so far from home, so lonely, so +heartbroken--standing undaunted in that rain of steel, while--" + +"Oh, Ezra, stop! I can't bear it! I can't bear it!" + +"Is the love of three years to be thrown aside like an old glove, just +because--" + +Her face was so wild and strained that the lies froze upon my tongue. + +"Oh, Ezra, I could follow him barefooted through the snow if only he--" + +"He's leaving Grand Central to-morrow at ten forty-five," I said. + +She fumbled at her neck, and almost tore away the diamond locket that +reposed there. + +"Take him this," she whispered hoarsely. "Take it to him at once, and +say I sent it. Say that I beg him to return--that my pride crumbles at +the thought of his going away so far into danger." + +I put the locket carefully into my pocket. + +"And, Eleanor, try and don't rub him the wrong way about his name. Is it +worth while? There have to be Joneses, you know." + +"Tell him," she burst out, "tell him--oh, I never meant to wound +him--truly, I didn't ... a name that's good enough for him is good +enough for me!" + +The next morning at nine I pulled up my Porcher-Mufflin car before +Jones' door. He was sitting at his table reading a book, and he made no +motion to rise as I came in. He gave me a pale, expressionless stare +instead, such as an ancient Christian might have worn when the call-boy +told him the lions were ready in the Colosseum. Resignation, obstinacy +and defiance--all nicely blended under a turn-the-other-cheek exterior. +He looked woebegone, and his thin, handsome face betrayed a sleepless +night and a breakfastless morning. I could feel that my presence was the +last straw to this unfortunate medical camel. + +I threw in a genial remark about the weather, and took a seat. + +Jones hunched himself together, and squirmed a sad little squirm. + +"Mr. Westoby," he said, "I once made use of a very strong expression in +regard to you. I said, if you remember, that I'd be obliged if you'd +keep your paws--" + +"Don't apologize," I interrupted. "I forgot it long ago." + +"You've taken me up wrong," he continued drearily. "I should like you to +consider the remark repeated now. Yes, sir, repeated." + +"Oh, bosh!" I exclaimed. + +"You have a very tough epidermis," he went on. "Quite the toughest +epidermis I have met with in my whole professional career. A paper +adequately treating your epidermis would make a sensation before any +medical society." + +Somehow I couldn't feel properly insulted. The whole business struck me +as irresistibly comical. I lay back in my chair--my uninvited chair--and +roared with laughter. + +I couldn't forbear asking him what treatment he'd recommend. + +He pointed to the door, and said laconically: "Fresh air." + +I retorted by laying the diamond locket before him. + +"My dear fellow," I said, as he gazed at it transfixed, "don't let us go +on like a pair of fools. Eleanor charged me to give you this, and beg +you to return." + +I don't believe he heard me at all. That flashing trinket was far more +eloquent than any words of mine. He laid his head in his hands beside +it, and his whole body trembled with emotion. He trembled and trembled, +till finally I got tired of waiting. I poked him in the back, and +reminded him that my car was waiting down stairs. He rose with a +strange, bewildered air, and submitted like a child to be led into the +street. He had the locket clenched in his hand, and every now and then +he would glance at it as though unable to believe his eyes. I shut him +into the tonneau, and took a seat beside my chauffeur. + +"Let her out, James," I said. + +James let her out with a vengeance. There was a sunny-haired housemaid +at the Van Coorts' ... and it was a crack, new, four-cylinder car with a +direct drive on the top speed. Off we went like the wind, jouncing poor +Jones around the tonneau like a pea in a pill-box. But he didn't care. +Was he not seraphically whizzing through space, obeying the diamond +telegram of love? In the gentle whizzle and bang of the whole +performance he even ventured to raise his voice in song, and I could +overhear him behind me, adding a lyrical finish to the hum of the +machinery. It was a walloping run, and we only throttled down on the +outskirts of Morristown. You see I had to coach him about that Japanese +war business, or else there might be trouble! So I leaned over the back +seat and gently broke it to him. I thought I had managed it rather well. +I felt sure he could understand, I said, the absolute need of a +little--embellishing and-- + +"Let me out," he said. + +I feverishly went on explaining. + +"If you don't let me out I'll climb out," he said, and began to make as +good as his word over the tonneau. + +Of course, there was nothing for it but to stop the car. + +Jones deliberately descended and headed for New York. + +I ran after him, while the chauffeur turned the car round and slowly +followed us both. It was a queer procession. First Jones, then I, then +the car. + +Finally I overtook him. + +"Jones," I panted. "Jones." + +He muttered something about Ananias, and speeded up. + +"But it was an awfully tight place," I pleaded. "Something had to be +done; you must make allowances; it was the first thing that came into +my head--and you must admit that it worked, Jones. Didn't she send you +the locket? Didn't she--?" + +"What a prancing, show-off, matinée fool you've made me look!" he burst +out. "I have an old mother to support. I have an increasing practice. I +have already attracted some little attention in my chosen field--eye, +ear and throat. A nice figure I'd cut, traipsing around the battlefields +in a kimono, and looking for a kindly bullet to lay me low. If I were +ever tempted by such a thing--which God forbid--wouldn't I prefer to +spread bacilli on buttered toast?" + +"I never thought of that," I said humbly. + +"I have known retail liars," he went on. "But I guess you are the only +wholesaler in the business. When other people are content with ones and +twos, you get them out in grosses, packed for export!" + +He went on slamming me like this for miles. Anybody else would have +given him up as hopeless. I don't want to praise myself, but if I have +one good quality it's staying power. I pleaded and argued, and +expostulated and explained, with the determination of a man whose back +is to the wall. I wasn't going to lose Freddy so long as there was +breath in my body. However, it wasn't the least good in the world. Jones +was as impervious as sole-leather, and as unshaken as a marble pillar. + +Then I played my last card. + +I told him the truth! Not the _whole_ truth, of course, but within ten +per cent. of it. About Freddy, you know, and how she was determined not +to marry before her elder sister, and how Eleanor's only preference +seemed to be for him, and how with such a slender clue to work on I had +engineered everything up to this point. + +"If I have seemed to you intolerably prying and officious," I said, +"well, at any rate, Jones, there's my excuse. It rests with you to give +me Freddy or take her from me. Turn back, and you'll make me the +happiest man alive; go forward, and--and--" + +I watched him out of the corner of my eye. + +His tread lost some of its elasticity. He was short-circuiting inside. +Positively he began to look sort of sympathetic and human. + +"Westoby," he said at last, in a voice almost of awe, "when they get up +another world's fair you must have a building to yourself. You're +colossal, that's what you are!" + +"I'm only in love," I said. + +"Well, that's the love that moves mountains," he said. "If anybody had +told me that I should...." He stopped irresolutely on the word. + +"Oh, to think I have to stand for all that rot!" he bleated. + +I was too wise to say a word. I simply motioned James to switch the car +around and back up. I shooed Jones into the tonneau and turned the knob +on him. He snuggled back in the cushions, and smiled--yes smiled--with a +beautiful, blue-eyed, far-away, indulgent expression that warmed me like +spring sunshine. Not that I felt absolutely safe even yet--of course I +couldn't--but still-- + +We ran into Freddy and Eleanor at the lodge gates. I had already +telephoned the former to expect us, so as to have everything fall out +naturally when the time came. We stopped the car, and descended--Jones +and I--and he walked straight off with Eleanor, while I side-stepped +with Freddy. + +She and I were almost too excited to talk. It was now or never, you +know, and there was an awfully solemn look about both their backs that +was either reassuring or alarming--we couldn't decide quite which. +Freddy and I simply held our breath and waited. + +Finally, after an age, Jones and Eleanor turned, still close in talk, +still solemn and enigmatical, and drew toward us very slowly and +deliberately. When they had got quite close, and the tension was at the +breaking point, Eleanor suddenly made a little rush, and, with a loud +sob, threw her arms round Freddy's neck. + +Jones fidgeted nervously about, and seemed to quail under my questioning +eyes. It was impossible to tell whether things had gone right or not. I +waited for him to speak.... I saw words forming themselves hesitatingly +on his lips ... he bent toward me quite confidentially.... + +"Say, old man," he whispered, "is there any place around here where a +fellow can buy an engagement ring?" + + + + +THE BEAR STORY + +THAT ALEX "IST MAKED UP HIS-OWN-SE'F" + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + + W'y, wunst they wuz a Little Boy went out + In the woods to shoot a Bear. So, he went out + 'Way in the grea'-big woods--he did.--An' he + Wuz goin' along--an' goin' along, you know, + An' purty soon he heerd somepin' go "_Wooh_!"-- + Ist thataway--"_Woo-ooh!_" An' he wuz _skeered_, + He wuz. An' so he runned an' clumbed a tree-- + A grea'-big tree, he did,--a _sicka-more_ tree. + An' nen he heerd it ag'in: an' he looked round, + An' _'t'uz a Bear_!--_a grea'-big shore-nuff Bear!_-- + No: 't'uz _two_ Bears, it wuz--two grea'-big Bears-- + _One_ of 'em wuz--ist _one's_ a _grea'-big_ Bear.-- + But they ist _boff_ went "_Wooh_!"--An' here _they_ come + To climb the tree an' git the Little Boy + An' eat him up! + + An' nen the Little Boy + He 'uz skeered worse'n ever! An' here come + The grea'-big Bear a-climbin' th' tree to git + The Little Boy an' eat him up--Oh, _no_!-- + It 'uzn't the _Big_ Bear 'at dumb the tree-- + It 'uz the _Little_ Bear. So here _he_ come + Climbin' the tree--an' climbin' the tree! Nen when + He git wite _clos't_ to the Little Boy, w'y nen + The Little Boy he ist pulled up his gun + An' _shot_ the Bear, he did, an' killed him dead! + An' nen the Bear he falled clean on down out + The tree--away clean to the ground, he did-- + _Spling-splung!_ he falled _plum_ down, an' killed him, too! + An' lit wite side o' where the _Big_ Bear's at. + + An' nen the Big Bear's awful mad, you bet!-- + 'Cause--'cause the Little Boy he shot his gun + An' killed the _Little_ Bear.--'Cause the _Big_ Bear + He--he 'uz the Little Bear's Papa.--An' so here + _He_ come to climb the big old tree an' git + The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' when + The Little Boy he saw the _grea'-big Bear_ + A-comin', he 'uz badder skeered, he wuz, + Than _any_ time! An' so he think he'll climb + Up _higher_--'way up higher in the tree + Than the old _Bear_ kin climb, you know.--But he-- + He _can't_ climb higher 'an old _Bears_ kin climb,-- + 'Cause Bears kin climb up higher in the trees + Than any little Boys in all the Wo-r-r-ld! + + An' so here come the grea'-big Bear, he did,-- + A-climbin' up--an' up the tree, to git + The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' so + The Little Boy he clumbed on higher, an' higher, + An' higher up the tree--an' higher--an' higher-- + An' higher'n iss-here _house_ is!--An' here come + Th' old Bear--clos'ter to him all the time!-- + An' nen--first thing you know,--when th' old Big Bear + Wuz wite clos't to him--nen the Little Boy + Ist jabbed his gun wite in the old Bear's mouf + An' shot an' killed him dead!--No; I _fergot_,-- + He didn't shoot the grea'-big Bear at all-- + 'Cause _they 'uz no load in the gun_, you know-- + 'Cause when he shot the _Little_ Bear, w'y, nen + No load 'uz any more nen _in_ the gun! + + But th' Little Boy clumbed _higher_ up, he did-- + He clumbed _lots_ higher--an' on up _higher_--an' higher + An' _higher_--tel he ist _can't_ climb no higher, + 'Cause nen the limbs 'uz all so little, 'way + Up in the teeny-weeny tip-top of + The tree, they'd break down wiv him ef he don't + Be keerful! So he stop an' think: An' nen + He look around--An' here come th' old Bear! + + An' so the Little Boy make up his mind + He's got to ist git out o' there _some_ way!-- + 'Cause here come the old Bear!--so clos't, his bref's + Purt 'nigh so's he kin feel how hot it is + Ag'inst his bare feet--ist like old "Ring's" bref + When he's ben out a-huntin' an's all tired. + So when th' old Bear's so clos't--the Little Boy + Ist gives a grea'-big jump fer _'nother_ tree-- + No!--no he don't do that!--I tell you what + The Little Boy does:--W'y, nen--w'y, he--Oh, _yes_-- + The Little Boy _he finds a hole up there + 'At's in the tree_--an' climbs in there an' _hides_-- + An' _nen_ th' old Bear can't find the Little Boy + At all!--But, purty soon th' old Bear finds + The Little Boy's _gun_ 'at's up there--'cause the _gun_ + It's too _tall_ to tooked wiv him in the hole. + So, when the old Bear find' the _gun_, he knows + The Little Boy's ist _hid_ 'round _somers_ there,-- + An' th' old Bear 'gins to snuff an' sniff around, + An' sniff an' snuff around--so's he kin find + Out where the Little Boy's hid at.--An' nen--nen-- + Oh, _yes_!--W'y, purty soon the old Bear climbs + 'Way out on a big limb--a grea'-long limb,-- + An' nen the Little Boy climbs out the hole + An' takes his ax an' chops the limb off!... Nen + The old Bear falls _k-splunge_! clean to the ground + An' bust an' kill hisse'f plum dead, he did! + + An' nen the Little Boy he git his gun + An' 'menced a-climbin' down the tree ag'in-- + No!--no, he _didn't_ git his _gun_--'cause when + The _Bear_ falled, nen the _gun_ falled, too--An' broked + It all to pieces, too!--An' _nicest_ gun!-- + His Pa ist buyed it!--An' the Little Boy + Ist cried, he did; an' went on climbin' down + The tree--an' climbin' down--an' climbin' down!-- + _An'-sir_! when he 'uz purt'-nigh down,--w'y, nen + _The old Bear he jumped up ag'in_!--an' he + Ain't dead at all--ist '_tendin_' thataway, + So he kin git the Little Boy an' eat + Him up! But the Little Boy he 'uz too smart + To climb clean _down_ the tree.--An' the old Bear + He can't climb _up_ the tree no more--'cause when + He fell, he broke one of his--he broke _all_ + His legs!--an' nen he _couldn't_ climb! But he + Ist won't go 'way an' let the Little Boy + Come down out of the tree. An' the old Bear + Ist growls 'round there, he does--ist growls an' goes + "_Wooh!--woo-ooh!_" all the time! An' Little Boy + He haf to stay up in the tree--all night-- + An' 'thout no _supper_ neether!--On'y they + Wuz _apples_ on the tree!--An' Little Boy + Et apples--ist all night--an' cried--an' cried! + Nen when 't'uz morning th' old Bear went "_Wooh_!" + Ag'in, an' try to climb up in the tree + An' git the Little Boy.--But he _can't_ + Climb t'save his _soul_, he can't!--An' _oh_! he's _mad_!-- + He ist tear up the ground! an' go "_Woo-ooh_!" + An'--_Oh, yes!_--purty soon, when morning's come + All _light_--so's you kin _see_, you know,--w'y, nen + The old Bear finds the Little Boy's _gun_, you know, + 'At's on the ground.--(An' it ain't broke at all-- + I ist _said_ that!) An' so the old Bear think + He'll take the gun an' _shoot_ the Little Boy:-- + But _Bears they_ don't know much 'bout shootin' guns: + So when he go to shoot the Little Boy, + The old Bear got the _other_ end the gun + Ag'in' his shoulder, 'stid o' _th'other_ end-- + So when he try to shoot the Little Boy, + It shot _the Bear_, it did--an' killed him dead! + An' nen the Little Boy clumb down the tree + An' chopped his old woolly head off:--Yes, an' killed + The _other_ Bear ag'in, he did--an' killed + All _boff_ the bears, he did--an' tuk 'em home + An' _cooked_'em, too, an' _et_'em! + --An' that's all. + + + + +COLONEL CARTER'S STORY OF THE POSTMASTER + +BY F. HOPKINSON SMITH + + +"Take, for instance, the town of Caartersville: look at that peaceful +village which for mo' than a hundred years has enjoyed the privileges of +free government; and not only Caartersville, but all our section of the +State." + +"Well, what's the matter with Cartersville?" asked Fitz, lighting his +cigar. + +"Mattah, suh! Just look at the degradation it fell into hardly ten years +ago. A Yankee jedge jurisdiction our laws, a Yankee sheriff enfo'cin' +'em, and a Yankee postmaster distributin' letters and sellin' postage +stamps." + +"But they were elected all right, Colonel, and represented the will of +the people." + +"What people? Yo' people, not mine. No, my dear Fitz; the Administration +succeeding the war treated us shamefully, and will go down to postehity +as infamous." + +The colonel here left his chair and began pacing the floor, his +indignation rising at every step. + +"To give you an idea, suh," he continued, "of what we Southern people +suffe'd immediately after the fall of the Confederacy, let me state a +case that came under my own observation. + +"Coloner Temple Talcott of F'okeer County, Virginia, came into +Talcottville one mornin', suh,--a town settled by his ancestors,--ridin' +upon his horse--or rather a mule belongin' to his overseer. Colonel +Talcott, suh, belonged to one of the vehy fust families in Virginia. He +was a son of Jedge Thaxton Talcott, and grandson of General Snowden +Stafford Talcott of the Revolutionary War. Now, suh, let me tell you +right here that the Talcott blood is as blue as the sky, and that every +gentleman bearin' the name is known all over the county as a man whose +honor is dearer to him than his life, and whose word is as good as his +bond. Well, suh, on this mornin' Colonel Talcott left his plantation in +charge of his overseer,--he was workin' it on shares,--and rode through +his estate to his ancestral town, some five miles distant. It is true, +suh, these estates were no longer in his name, but that had no bearin' +on the events that followed; he ought to have owned them, and would have +done so but for some vehy ungentlemanly fo'closure proceedin's which +occurred immediately after the war. + +"On arriving at Talcottville the colonel dismounted, handed the reins to +his servant,--or perhaps one of the niggers around de do'--and entered +the post-office. Now, suh, let me tell you that one month befo', the +Government, contrary to the express wishes of a great many of our +leadin' citizens, had sent a Yankee postmaster to Talcottville to +administer the postal affairs of the town. No sooner had this man taken +possession than he began to be exclusive, suh, and to put on airs. The +vehy fust air he put on was to build a fence in his office and compel +our people to transact their business through a hole. This in itself was +vehy gallin', suh, for up to that time the mail had always been dumped +out on the table in the stage office and every gentleman had he'ped +himself. The next thing was the closin' of his mail bags at a' hour +fixed by himself. This became a great inconvenience to our citizens, who +were often late in finishin' their correspondence, and who had always +found our former postmaster willin' either to hold the bag over until +the next day, or to send it across to Drummondtown by a boy to catch a +later train. + +"Well, suh, Colonel Talcott's mission to the post-office was to mail a +letter to his factor in Richmond, Virginia, on business of the utmost +importance to himself,--namely, the raisin' of a small loan upon his +share of the crop. Not the crop that was planted, suh, but the crop that +he expected to plant. + +"Colonel Talcott approached the hole, and with that Chesterfieldian +manner which has distinguished the Talcotts for mo' than two centuries, +asked the postmaster for the loan of a three-cent postage stamp. + +"To his astonishment, suh, he was refused. + +"Think of a Talcott in his own county town bein' refused a three-cent +postage stamp by a low-lived Yankee, who had never known a gentleman in +his life! The colonel's first impulse was to haul the scoundrel through +the hole and caarve him; but then he remembered that he was a Talcott +and could not demean himself, and drawin' himself up again with that +manner which was grace itself he requested the loan of a three-cent +postage stamp until he should communicate with his factor in Richmond, +Virginia; and again he was refused. Well, suh, what was there left for a +high-toned Southern gentleman to do? Colonel Talcott drew his revolver +and shot that Yankee scoundrel through the heart, and killed him on the +spot. + +"And now, suh, comes the most remarkable part of the story. If it had +not been for Major Tom Yancey, Jedge Kerfoot and myself, there would +have been a lawsuit." + +Fitz lay back in his chair and roared. + +"And they did not hang the colonel?" + +"Hang a Talcott! No, suh; we don't hang gentlemen down our way. Jedge +Kerfoot vehy properly charged the coroner's jury that it was a matter +of self-defense, and Colonel Talcott was not detained mo' than haalf an +hour." + +The colonel stopped, unlocked a closet in the sideboard, and produced a +black bottle labeled in ink, "Old Cherry Bounce, 1848." + +"You must excuse me, gentlemen, but the discussion of these topics has +quite unnerved me. Allow me to share with you a thimbleful." + +Fitz drained the glass, cast his eyes upward, and said solemnly, "To the +repose of the postmaster's soul." + + + + +LOVE SONNETS OF AN OFFICE BOY + +BY S.E. KISER + + +I + + Oh, if you only knowed how much I like + To stand here, when the "old man" ain't around, + And watch your soft, white fingers while you pound + Away at them there keys! Each time you strike + It almost seems to me as though you'd found + So me way, while writin' letters, how to play + Sweet music on that thing, because the sound + Is something I could listen to all day. + + You're twenty-five or six, and I'm fourteen, + And you don't hardly ever notice me-- + But when you do, you call me Willie! Gee, + I wisht I'd bundles of the old long green + And could be twenty-eight or nine or so, + And something happened to your other beau. + + +VI + + When you're typewritin' and that long-legged clerk + Tips back there on his chair and smiles at you, + And you look up and get to smilin', too, + I'd like to go and give his chair a jerk + And send him flyin' till his head went through + The door that goes out to the hall, and when + They picked him up he'd be all black and blue + And you'd be nearly busted laughin' then. + + But if I done it, maybe you would run + And hold his head and smooth his hair and say + It made you sad that he got dumped that way, + And I'd get h'isted out for what I done-- + I wish that he'd get fired and you'd stay + And suddenly I'd be a man some day. + + +VIII + + This morning when that homely, long-legged clerk + Come in he had a rose he got somewhere; + He went and kind of leaned against her chair, + Instead of goin' on about his work, + And stood around and talked to her a while, + Because the boss was out,--and both took care + To watch the door; and when he left her there + He dropped the flower with a sickish smile. + + I snuck it from the glass of water she + Had stuck it in, and tore it up and put + It on the floor and smashed it with my foot, + When neither him nor her was watchin' me-- + I'd like to rub the stem acrost his nose, + And I wish they'd never be another rose. + + +XIII + + Last night I dreamed about her in my sleep; + I thought that her and me had went away + Out on some hill where birds sung 'round all day, + And I had got a job of herdin' sheep. + I thought that she had went along to keep + Me comp'ny, and we'd set around for hours + Just lovin', and I'd go and gather flowers + And pile them at her feet, all in a heap. + + It seemed to me like heaven, bein' there + With only her besides the sheep and birds, + And us not sayin' anything but words + About the way we loved. I wouldn't care + To ever wake again if I could still + Dream we was there forever on the hill. + + +XXVII + + It's over now; the blow has fell at last; + It seems as though the sun can't shine no more, + And nothing looks the way it did before; + The glad thoughts that I used to think are past. + Her desk's shut up to-day, the lid's locked fast; + The keys where she typewrote are still; her chair + Looks sad and lonesome standin' empty there-- + I'd like to let the tears come if I dast. + + This morning when the boss come in he found + A letter that he'd got from her, and so + He read it over twice and turned around + And said: "The little fool's got married!" Oh, + It seemed as if I'd sink down through the ground, + And never peep no more--I didn't, though. + + + + +MR. DOOLEY ON THE GAME OF FOOTBALL + +BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE + + +"Whin I was a young man," said Mr. Dooley, "an' that was a long time +ago,--but not so long ago as manny iv me inimies'd like to believe, if I +had anny inimies,--I played fut-ball, but 'twas not th' fut-ball I see +whin th' Brothers' school an' th' Saint Aloysius Tigers played las' week +on th' pee-raries. + +"Whin I was a la-ad, iv a Sundah afthernoon we'd get out in th' field +where th' oats'd been cut away, an' we'd choose up sides. Wan cap'n'd +pick one man, an' th' other another. 'I choose Dooley,' 'I choose +O'Connor,' 'I choose Dimpsey,' 'I choose Riordan,' an' so on till there +was twinty-five or thirty on a side. Thin wan cap'n'd kick th' ball, an' +all our side'd r-run at it an' kick it back; an' thin wan iv th' other +side'd kick it to us, an' afther awhile th' game'd get so timpischous +that all th' la-ads iv both sides'd be in wan pile, kickin' away at wan +or th' other or at th' ball or at th' impire, who was mos'ly a la-ad +that cudden't play an' that come out less able to play thin he was whin +he wint in. An', if anny wan laid hands on th' ball, he was kicked be +ivry wan else an' be th' impire. We played fr'm noon till dark, an' +kicked th' ball all th' way home in the moonlight. + +"That was futball, an' I was a great wan to play it. I'd think nawthin' +iv histin' th' ball two hundherd feet in th' air, an' wanst I give it +such a boost that I stove in th' ribs iv th' Prowtestant minister--bad +luck to him, he was a kind man--that was lookin' on fr'm a hedge. I was +th' finest player in th' whole county, I was so. + +"But this here game that I've been seein' ivry time th' pagan fistival +iv Thanksgivin' comes ar-round, sure it ain't th' game I played. I seen +th' Dorgan la-ad comin' up th' sthreet yesterdah in his futball +clothes,--a pair iv matthresses on his legs, a pillow behind, a mask +over his nose, an' a bushel measure iv hair on his head. He was followed +by thee men with bottles, Dr. Ryan, an' th' Dorgan fam'ly. I jined thim. +They was a big crowd on th' peerary,--a bigger crowd than ye cud get to +go f'r to see a prize fight. Both sides had their frinds that give th' +colledge cries. Says wan crowd: 'Take an ax, an ax, an ax to thim. +Hooroo, hooroo, hellabaloo. Christyan Bro-others!' an' th' other says, +'Hit thim, saw thim, gnaw thim, chaw thim, Saint Alo-ysius!' Well, +afther awhile they got down to wur-ruk. 'Sivin, eighteen, two, four,' +says a la-ad. I've seen people go mad over figures durin' th' free +silver campaign, but I niver see figures make a man want f'r to go out +an' kill his fellow-men befure. But these here figures had th' same +effect on th' la-ads that a mintion iv Lord Castlereagh'd have on their +fathers. Wan la-ad hauled off, an' give a la-ad acrost fr'm him a punch +in th' stomach. His frind acrost th' way caught him in th' ear. Th' +cinter rush iv th' Saint Aloysiuses took a runnin' jump at th' left lung +iv wan iv th' Christyan Brothers, an' wint to th' grass with him. Four +Christyan Brothers leaped most crooly at four Saint Aloysiuses, an' +rolled thim. Th' cap'n iv th' Saint Aloysiuses he took th' cap'n iv th' +Christyan Brothers be th' leg, an' he pounded th' pile with him as I've +seen a section hand tamp th' thrack. All this time young Dorgan was +standin' back, takin' no hand in th' affray. All iv a suddent he give a +cry iv rage, an' jumped feet foremost into th' pile. 'Down!' says th' +impire. 'Faith, they are all iv that,' says I. 'Will iver they get up?' +'They will,' says ol' man Dorgan. 'Ye can't stop thim,' says he. + +"It took some time f'r to pry thim off. Near ivry man iv th' Saint +Aloysiuses was tied in a knot around wan iv th' Christyan Brothers. On'y +wan iv thim remained on th' field. He was lyin' face down, with his nose +in th' mud. 'He's kilt,' says I. 'I think he is,' says Dorgan, with a +merry smile. 'Twas my boy Jimmy done it, too,' says he. 'He'll be +arrested f'r murdher,' says I. 'He will not,' says he. 'There's on'y wan +polisman in town cud take him, an' he's down town doin' th' same f'r +somebody,' he says. Well, they carried th' corpse to th' side, an' took +th' ball out iv his stomach with a monkey wrinch, an' th' game was +rayshumed. 'Sivin, sixteen, eight, eleven,' says Saint Aloysius; an' +young Dorgan started to run down th' field. They was another young la-ad +r-runnin' in fr-ront iv Dorgan; an', as fast as wan iv th' Christyan +Brothers come up an' got in th' way, this here young Saint Aloysius +grabbed him be th' hair iv th' head an' th' sole iv th' fut, an' thrun +him over his shoulder. 'What's that la-ad doin'?' says I. 'Interfering' +says he. 'I shud think he was,' says I, 'an' most impudent,' I says. +''Tis such interference as this,' I says, 'that breaks up fam'lies'; an' +I come away. + +"'Tis a noble sport, an' I'm glad to see us Irish ar-re gettin' into it. +Whin we larn it thruly, we'll teach thim colledge joods fr'm th' pie +belt a thrick or two." + +"We have already," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se a team up in Wisconsin +with a la-ad be th' name iv Jeremiah Riordan f'r cap'n, an' wan named +Patsy O'Dea behind him. They come down here, an' bate th' la-ads fr'm +th' Chicawgo Colledge down be th' Midway." + +"Iv coorse, they did," said Mr. Dooley. "Iv coorse, they did. An' they +cud bate anny collection iv Baptists that iver come out iv a tank." + + + + +THE FAIRPORT ART MUSEUM + +BY OCTAVE THANET + + +After the war was over, the Middle West addressed itself to Culture. +Perhaps the husbands and brothers and fathers might still be busy making +money; but the women of the West, whose energies and emotions had been +mightily roused, found life a little tame when there were no more +sanitary commissions, no more great fairs or little fairs for the +soldiers, no more intense emotions over printed sheets. Then it was that +the Woman's Club lifted a modest finger at the passing car of progress, +and unobtrusively boarded it. + +Fairport was conservative, as always, but she had no mind to be left +behind in the march of feminine fashion. She did not rush to extremes, +but she had women's clubs in 1881. The chief of these were the Ladies' +Literary Club and the Spinsters' Alliance. Both clubs tackled the same +great themes of ethics and art, and allotted a winter to the literature +of a nation, except in the case of Greek and Roman literatures, which +were not considered able to occupy a whole winter apiece, so they were +studied in company. The club possessed a proper complement of officers, +and their meetings went from house to house. They were conducted with +artless simplicity, in a pleasant, conversational manner, but with due +regard to polite forms; and only at a moment of excitement was the chair +addressed by her Christian name. + +Naturally, the women's clubs were deeply stirred by the first great +World's Fair in America. But the whole West was moved. It turned to art +with a joyous ardor, the excited happiness of a child that finds a new +beauty in the world. Why had we not thought of the artistic regeneration +of our sordid life before? Never mind, we would make amends for lost +time by spending more money! In very truth the years following the +Centennial witnessed an extraordinary awakening of worship of beauty, +almost religious in its fervor. Passionate pilgrims ransacked Europe and +the Orient; a prodigal horde of their captives, objects of luxury and of +art, surged into galleries and museums and households. No cold, critical +taste weeded out these adorable aliens. The worst and the best +conquered, together. Our architecture, our furniture, our household +surroundings were metamorphosed as by enchantment. And the feature of +mark in it all was the unparalleled diffusion of the new faith. Not the +great cities only; the towns, the villages, the hamlets, caught fire. + +Of course, Fairport went to Philadelphia; and Fairport was converted. It +followed, at once that the women's clubs of the place should serve most +zealously at the altar; and nothing could be more inevitable than that +in course of time there should be a concrete manifestation of zeal. +Hence the memorable Art Museum, the fame of which to this day will +revive, when there is a meeting of the solid and gray-haired matrons who +were the light-footed girls of the Alliance, and the talk falls on the +old times. + +The art collection would give its admirers shivers to-day, but it +excited only happy complacency then. The mood of the hour was not +critical. The homes of the Fairport gentry held innumerable oil copies +of the great masters of different degrees of merit, which they loaned +secure of welcome; with them came family treasures so long held in +reverence that their artistic value (coldly considered) had been lost to +comparison, and the gems of accomplished amateurs who painted flowers on +china cups, or of rising young artists who had not as yet risen beyond +the circle of trusting friends in town. + +In general, the donors' expectation of gratitude was justified, but even +so early as 1881 there were limits to artistic credulity; and some +offerings drove the club president, Miss Claudia Loraine, and the club +secretary, Miss Emma Hopkins, to "the coal hold." This was a wee closet +under the stairs, where the coal scuttles were ranged, until they should +fare forth to replenish the "base burners" which warmed the Museum home. +In real life the name of the Museum's lodgings was Harness Block, and +Mr. Harness had proffered the cause of art two empty stores, formerly a +fish market and a grocery. As there was no private office (only a wire +cage), when Miss Hopkins felt the need of frank speech she signaled +Claudia to the coal hole. + +She was closeted with her thus on the morning of the second day. The +subject of the conference was the last assault on the nerves of the +committee, perpetrated by the Miller twins--not in person, but with +their china. The china, itself, had the outward semblance of ordinary +blue earthen ware of a cheap grade; but the Miller twins were convinced +(on the testimony of their dear old minister, who never told a lie in +his life, and who had heard the Millers' grandmother say--and everybody +knows that _she_ was a saint on earth, and she was ninety years old at +the time, and would she be likely to lie almost on her dying bed?--you +might call it her dying bed, averred Miss Miller, since she was +bedridden for two years before her death, on that same old four-poster +bedstead which belonged to her mother, and at last died on it) that the +blue ware had been the property of George the Third, had been sold and +was on board the ship with the tea which was rifled in Boston Harbor. +They had insisted in pasting these royal claims upon the china in the +blackest and neatest lettering. The awkward fact that earthenware does +not usually grace a royal board, or that the saintly old grandmother +mixed up dates and persons in a wonderful way during her latter days, +made no difference to her loyal descendants. Each platter with the black +chipping betraying plainly its lowly origin, each tea-cup mended with +cement, bore the paper-claim pasted securely upon it. + +"It took up a whole afternoon," said Miss Tina Miller, "but it's _so_ +precious and there might be other blue ware and it _might_ get +mixed--you'll insure it, Miss Hopkins? not that money could replace such +things, but, at least"--Miss Tina Miller always left her sentences in +the air, seemingly too diffident to complete them, once the auditors +were assured of their import. + +The Millers kept a tiny little house on a tiny little income; but gave +of all they had to give, themselves, without stint. They were +public-spirited women, if Fairport ever held any such. Although they had +neither brothers nor cousins to go to the war, they had picked lint and +made bandages and trudged with subscription papers and scrimped for +weeks to have money to spend at the patriotic fairs. In consequence they +were deeply respected, so respected that it was simply impossible to +refuse their unselfish offering of their dearest god. + +"I think it just _noble_ of you," said Miss Tina. "Sister and I felt we +_must_ help; so we brought the King George china and a little pencil +head our sister Euphrosyne did. The one who died, you know. I'm sorry +all your--art things--aren't in yet. No, I can't come to-morrow; I +shall be very busy--sister may come--_thank_ you." + + * * * * * + +Both the keen young listeners knew why Miss Tina could not come; it was +neither more nor less than the admission fee. + +"But I'll take care of that," said Emma to Claudia in the coal hold. +"Elly is going to give her and Miss Ally each a season ticket." + +"Then we're _in_ for the King George china!" groaned Claudia softly. + +"We are," said Emma. "I've put it in a good but not too good a place, +and Mr. Winslow is inspecting it now." + +"And he _knows_ about china; he's sent lovely things," mourned Claudia. + +"Oh, well, he knows about the Miller girls, too," said Emma, smiling; "I +think he'll forgive us." + +"You'd better go explain," urged Claudia, "and throw in that landscape +with the cow that seems to have five legs and belongs to Mr. Harness. +Perhaps he'll forgive that, too." + +Emma went,--she was an amiable girl. She was not pretty like her sister, +Mrs. Raimund, who had married the great railway man and was a power in +Chicago society; but there was something in the radiant neatness and +good humor of the plain sister which made her pleasant to look upon. + +Winslow's mouth and eyes relaxed at her greeting, and he smiled over her +official quotation of the Millers' claims. + +"King George's table? H'mn; which table, second or third?" His eyes +twinkled at Emma, whose own eyes twinkled back. + +"They're awfully good women," said she, in a kind of compunction. + +"None better," said he. + +As he passed on, with his little son at his side, she thought: "He isn't +nearly so grim as I used to think." + +Mrs. Winslow and Mrs. Winter were a few paces behind. They halted before +the china, which Mrs. Winter examined; but Mrs. Winslow's weary eyes +lingered hardly a moment before they found some other object on which to +rest and leave as briefly. + +"It is to be hoped this priceless relic won't be damaged in any way," +said Mrs. Winter. "Still"--she bent confidentially toward Emma--"if such +a calamity should occur, I know a shop in Chicago where you can get +plenty for three dollars and ninety-nine cents." + +"I hope nothing will happen to it," said Emma, with stolid reticence. + +Mrs. Winslow had not listened, her listless face had been transformed; +it was illumined now by the loveliest of smiles; she half put out her +hand as a little boy snuggled up to her silken skirts, with a laugh. + +"Papa letted me come," he said gaily, "and Peggy's here, too,--there!" + +Peggy was attired with great care, her long red curls were shining and +her eyes sparkled. + +Immediately both children were immersed in the beauties of a collection +of rejected models which had been obtained from the patent office, and +which, surely, were the most diverting toys imaginable. + +"Poor things, to them they _are_ most valuable!" sighed Mrs. Winslow. +She was making conversation about the Miller china; but Johnny-Ivan and +Peggy not unreasonably conceived that she spoke of the beautiful churns +and hayraking wagons and cars and wheeled chairs and the like marvels +which Miss Hopkins was amiably explaining for them. + +"The least chip would be irreparable, I suppose," continued Mrs. Winter, +"thousands couldn't pay if one were broken!" + +"Imagine the feelings of the custodian," said Emma. "I'm in a tremble +all the time." + +"I pity you," said Mrs. Winter, as the two ladies passed on to Mrs. +Winter's great-grandmother's blue and white embroidered bedspread. + +"Oh, Peggy, _do_ be careful!" whispered Johnny-Ivan; Peggy was sending a +velocipede in dizzy circles round the counter. + +Now fate had ordered that at this critical instant the children should +be unguarded. Miss Hopkins had stepped aside at the call of an agitated +lady who had lost one of her art treasures in carriage; for the moment, +there was no one near save a freckled boy in shabby overalls, who eyed +the toys wistfully from afar. He was the same little boy whom +Johnny-Ivan had bribed with a jack-knife to close the gate a few weeks +before; and he was in the Museum to help his mother, the scrub-woman of +the store. + +Peggy grew more pleased with her play. The velocipede described wider +and wider gyrations with accelerating speed; its keen buzz swelled on +the air. + +"It'll hit somepin!" warned Johnny-Ivan in an access of fear. + +But Peggy's soul was dauntless to recklessness. "No, it won't," she +flung back. Her shining head was between Johnny and the whirling wheels. +He thought a most particularly beautiful little swinging gate in peril +and tried to swerve the flying thing; how it happened, neither of the +children knew; there was a smash, a crash, and gate and velocipede lay +in splinters under a bronze bust. The glass of the show-case was etched +with a sinister gray line. + +"_Now_ look what you've done!" exclaimed Peggy, with the natural +irritation of disaster. "Oh, my!" squeaked the shabby little boy, "won't +you catch it!" Peggy's anger was swallowed up in fright and sympathy; +she pushed Johnny-Ivan ahead of her. "That Miss Hopkins is looking," +cried she, "get behind these folks down the aisle!" + +She propelled the little boy out of the immediate neighborhood of the +calamity; she forced a wicked, deceitful smile (alas! guile comes easy +to her sex) and pointed out things to him, whispering, "Look pleasant! +Don't be so scared! They'll never know we did it." Already she was +shouldering her share in crime, with a woman's willingness; she said +"we" quite unconsciously; but she added (and this was of direct +volition): "I did it more'n you; you were just trying to keep the nasty +thing straight; I was a heap more to blame. Anyhow, I guess it ain't so +awful bad. Just those wooden things." + +Johnny-Ivan shook a tragic head; even his lips had gone bluish-white. +"She said thousands wouldn't repair the damage," moaned he. + +"You can't make me believe those mean little wooden tricks are worth any +thousand dollars!" volleyed Peggy; nevertheless, her heart beat +faster,--grown people are so queer. "Are you sure she meant _them_? +Maybe it was those things in the next glass case; they're her own +things! They're some kind of Chinese china and cost a heap." Peggy's +sturdy womanly wits were rising from the shock. + +"And the show-case is broked!" sniffed Johnny-Ivan, gulping down a sob. + +"It ain't broke, it's only cracked; 'sides, it was cracked a right smart +befo'!" + +"But this was a new place--I know, 'cause I cut my finger on the other, +scraping it over." + +"Well, anyhow, I reckon it didn't be much value," Peggy insisted. + +"I saw that young lady come back,"--Johnny-Ivan had switched on to a new +track leading to grisly possibilities--"maybe _she'll_ find it!" + +"Well, we're gone, all right." + +Peggy gave an unprincipled giggle; "Maybe she'll think it was _him_." + +"Then we _got_ to tell," moaned Johnny. + +"No, we ain't. He'll run off and so she won't ask him questions." + +"But she'll _think_ it's him. It'll be mean." + +"No it won't." + +"It's mean to have somebody else take your blame or your punishment; +mamma said so." + +The small casuist was too discreet to attack Johnny's oracle; she only +pouted her pretty lips and quibbled: + +"'Tain't mean if the people who get blamed are mean themselves--like +him. I don't care _how_ blamed he gets; I wouldn't care if he got +licked." + +But Johnny's conscience was not so elastic. "I don't care, either," he +protested. "I--I wouldn't care if he was _deaded_"--anxious to +propitiate--"but it would be mean just the same. I got to tell papa, +Peggy, I truly have." + +Peggy grew very cross. "You are just the foolest, obsternatest little +boy I ever did see," she grumbled; "you're a plumb idiot! I'd like to +slap you! Your papa'll be awful mad." + +Johnny-Ivan essayed an indifferent mien, but his eyes were miserable. + +"Say, Jo'nivan,"--her voice sank to a whisper that curdled his +blood--"were you ever spanked?" + +"Only Hilma sorter kinder--not really _spanking_, you know," confessed +Johnny with a toss of his head. "I just made faces at her; I didn't +cry!" he bragged. + +"Never your mamma or your papa?" + +"Course not," said Johnny with a haughty air; "but, Peggy," he said very +low, "were you--did--" + +"Oh, my, yes! Mammy did when I was little. I'm too big now." + +"I'm too big, too, now, ain't I?" + +"I don't know," said Peggy. "Wulf Greiner was licked by teacher, and +he's thirteen. It's whether it's mighty bad, you know." + +Johnny-Ivan caught his breath and his legs shook under him; the horror +of his father's "licking" him came over him cold; it was not the pain; +he had never minded Hilma's sturdy blows and he had let Michael cut a +splinter out of his thumb with a pocket-knife, and never whimpered; it +was the ignominy, the unknown terror of his father's wrath that looked +awful to him. As he looked down the crowded room and suddenly beheld +Winslow's face bent gravely over Miss Hopkins, who was talking +earnestly, he could hardly move his feet. Yet he had no thought of +wavering. "I _got_ to tell," he said, and walked as fast as he could, +with his white face, straight to the group. + +Winslow looked down and saw the two children; and one could discover the +signals of calamity in their faces: Peggy's a fine scarlet and +Johnny-Ivan's grayish-white. + +"What's the matter, Johnny?" asked Winslow. + +Johnny's eyelids were glued tight--just as they were when he pulled +Peggy's tooth--he blurted everything out breathlessly: "I've done +something _awful_, papa! It'll cost thousands of dollars." + +Emma Hopkins had considered Winslow an unattractive man, of a harsh +visage, but now, as he looked at his little son, she changed her mind. + +"What did you do, son?" said he quietly; his hand found Johnny's brown +curls and lay on them a second. + +"He didn't do it, really; it was _me_," Peggy broke in, too agitated for +grammar. "I was playing with the little tricks on the table, the models, +sah, and I was making the v'losipid run round and he was 'fraid I'd +break it; but _I_ did it, really, sah." + +"And the model fell on to something valuable? I see." + +"But he wasn't playing with it, he was only trying to keep me from +breaking--" + +"Well, young lady, you two are evidently in the same boat; but you +aren't a bit sneaky, either of you. Let's see the wreckage; I suppose +you got into trouble because you wanted to see how things worked, and +Johnny, as usual, couldn't keep out of other folks' hot water. Where's +the ruin?" + +"The show-case is broked, too," said Johnny-Ivan in a woeful, small +voice. + +"But it was cracked before," interjected Peggy. + +Winslow looked at her with a little twist. "That's a comfort," said he, +"and you have horse sense, my little Southerner. I guess you didn't +either of you mean any harm--" + +"Indeed, no, sah, and Johnny was just as good; never touched a thing--" + +"But you see your intentions didn't protect you. Distrust good +intentions, my dears; look out for the possible consequences. However, I +think there is one person to blame you haven't mentioned, and that is +one Josiah C. Winslow, who let two such giddy young persons explore by +themselves. Contributory negligence is proved; and said Winslow will pay +the bill and not kick." + +So saying, he took Peggy's warm, chubby little fingers in one of his big +white hands and Johnny-Ivan's cold little palm in the other, and nodded +a farewell to Emma. + + + + +THE BALLAD OF GRIZZLY GULCH[1] + +BY WALLACE IRWIN + + + The rocks are rough, the trail is tough, + The forest lies before, + As madly, madly to the hunt + Rides good King Theodore + With woodsmen, plainsmen, journalists + And kodaks thirty-four. + + The bob-cats howl, the panthers growl, + "He sure is after us!" + As by his side lopes Bill, the Guide, + A wicked-looking cuss-- + "Chee-chee!" the little birds exclaim, + "Ain't Teddy stren-oo-uss!" + + Though dour the climb with slip and slime, + King Ted he doesn't care, + Till, cracking peanuts on a rock, + Behold, a Grizzly Bear! + King Theodore he shows his teeth, + But he never turns a hair. + + "Come hither, Court Photographer," + The genial monarch saith, + "Be quick to snap your picture-trap + As I do yon Bear to death." + "Dee-lighted!" cries the smiling Bear, + As he waits and holds his breath. + + Then speaks the Court Biographer, + And a handy guy is he, + "First let me wind my biograph, + That the deed recorded be." + "A square deal!" saith the patient Bear, + With ready repartee. + + And now doth mighty Theodore + For slaughter raise his gun; + A flash, a bang, an ursine roar-- + The dready deed is done! + And now the kodaks thirty-four + In chorus click as one. + + The big brown bruin stricken falls + And in his juices lies; + His blood is spent, yet deep content + Beams from his limpid eyes. + "Congratulations, dear old pal!" + He murmurs as he dies. + + From Cripple Creek and Soda Springs, + Gun Gulch and Gunnison, + A-foot, a-sock, the people flock + To see that deed of gun; + And parents bring huge families + To show what _they_ have done. + + In the damp corse stands Theodore + And takes a hand of each, + As loud and long the happy throng + Cries, "Speech!" again and "Speech!" + Which pleaseth well King Theodore, + Whose practice is to preach. + + "Good friends," he says, "lead outdoor lives + And Fame you yet may see-- + Just look at Lincoln, Washington, + And great Napoleon B.; + And after that take off your hats + And you may look at me!" + + But as he speaks, a Messenger + Cries, "Sire, a telegraft!" + The king up takes the wireless screed + Which he opens fore and aft, + And reads: "The Venezuelan stew + Is boiling over. TAFT." + + Then straight the good King Theodore + In anger drops his gun + And turns his flashing spectacles + Toward high-domed Washington. + "O tush!" he saith beneath his breath, + "A man can't have no fun!" + + Then comes a disappointed wail + From every rock and tree. + "Good-by, good-by!" the grizzlies cry + And wring their handkerchee. + And a sad bob-cat exclaims, "O drat! + He never shot at me!" + + So backward, backward from the hunt + The monarch lopes once more. + The Constitution rides behind + And the Big Stick rides before + (Which was a rule of precedent + In the reign of Theodore). + +[Footnote 1: From "At the Sign of the Dollar," by Wallace Irwin. +Copyright, 1905, by Fox, Duffield & Co.] + + + + +MY PHILOSOFY + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + + I ain't, ner don't p'tend to be, + Much posted on philosofy; + But thare is times, when all alone, + I work out idees of my own. + And of these same thare is a few + I'd like to jest refer to you-- + Pervidin' that you don't object + To listen clos't and rickollect. + + I allus argy that a man + Who does about the best he can + Is plenty good enugh to suit + This lower mundane institute-- + No matter ef his daily walk + Is subject fer his neghbor's talk, + And critic-minds of ev'ry whim + Jest all git up and go fer him! + + I knowed a feller onc't that had + The yeller-janders mighty bad,-- + And each and ev'ry friend he'd meet + Would stop and give him some receet + Fer cuorin' of 'em. But he'd say + He kindo' thought they'd go away + Without no medicin', and boast + That he'd git well without one doste. + + He kep' a-yellerin' on--and they + Perdictin' that he'd die some day + Before he knowed it! Tuck his bed, + The feller did, and lost his head, + And wundered in his mind a spell-- + Then rallied, and, at last, got well; + But ev'ry friend that said he'd die + Went back on him eternally! + + Its natchurl enugh, I guess, + When some gits more and some gits less, + Fer them-uns on the slimmest side + To claim it ain't a fare divide; + And I've knowed some to lay and wait, + And git up soon, and set up late, + To ketch some feller they could hate + Fer goin' at a faster gait. + + The signs is bad when folks commence + A-findin' fault with Providence, + And balkin' 'cause the earth don't shake + At ev'ry prancin' step they take. + No man is grate tel he can see + How less than little he would be + Ef stripped to self, and stark and bare + He hung his sign out anywhare. + + My doctern is to lay aside + Contensions, and be satisfied: + Jest do your best, and praise er blame + That follers that, counts jest the same. + I've allus noticed grate success + Is mixed with troubles, more or less, + And it's the man who does the best + That gits more kicks than all the rest. + + + + +THE SOCIETY UPON THE STANISLAUS + +BY BRET HARTE + + + I reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James; + I am not up to small deceit, or any sinful games; + And I'll tell in simple language what I know about the row + That broke up our society upon the Stanislow. + + But first I would remark, that it is not a proper plan + For any scientific man to whale his fellow-man, + And, if a member don't agree with his peculiar whim, + To lay for that same member for to "put a head" on him. + + Now, nothing could be finer or more beautiful to see + Than the first six months' proceedings of that same society, + Till Brown of Calaveras brought a lot of fossil bones + That he found within a tunnel near the tenement of Jones. + + Then Brown he read a paper, and he reconstructed there, + From those same bones, an animal that was extremely rare; + And Jones then asked the Chair for a suspension of the rules, + Till he could prove that those same bones was one of his lost mules. + + Then Brown he smiled a bitter smile and said he was at fault, + It seemed he had been trespassing on Jones's family vault; + He was a most sarcastic man, this quiet Mr. Brown, + And on several occasions he had cleaned out the town. + + Now, I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent + To say another is an ass--at least, to all intent; + Nor should the individual who happens to be meant + Reply by heaving rocks at him to any great extent. + + Then Abner Dean of Angel's raised a point of order, when + A chunk of old red sandstone took him in the abdomen, + And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor, + And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more. + + For, in less time than I write it, every member did engage + In a warfare with the remnants of a palæozoic age; + And the way they heaved those fossils in their anger was a sin, + Till the skull of an old mammoth caved the head of Thompson in. + + And this is all I have to say of these improper games, + For I live at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James; + And I've told, in simple language, what I know about the row + That broke up our society upon the Stanislow. + + + + +LOST CHORDS + +BY EUGENE FIELD + + + One autumn eve, when soft the breeze + Came sweeping through the lattice wide, + I sat me down at organ side + And poured my soul upon the keys. + + It was, perhaps by heaven's design, + That from my half unconscious touch, + There swept a passing chord of such + Sweet harmony, it seemed divine. + + In one soft tone it seemed to say + The sweetest words I ever heard, + Then like a truant forest bird, + It soared from me to heaven away. + + Last eve, I sat at window whence + I sought the spot where erst had stood + A cord--a cord of hick'ry wood, + Piled up against the back yard fence. + + Four dollars cost me it that day, + Four dollars earned by sweat of brow, + Where was the cord of hick'ry now? + The thieves had gobbled it away! + + Ah! who can ever count the cost, + Of treasures which were once our own, + Yet now, like childhood dreams are flown, + Those cords that are forever lost. + + + + +THOUGHTS FER THE DISCURAGED FARMER + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + + The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin' locus' trees; + And the clover in the pastur is a big day fer the bees, + And they been a-swiggin' honey, above board and on the sly, + Tel they stutter in theyr buzzin' and stagger as they fly. + The flicker on the fence-rail 'pears to jest spit on his wings + And roll up his feathers, by the sassy way he sings; + And the hoss-fly is a-whettin'-up his forelegs fer biz, + And the off-mare is a-switchin' all of her tale they is. + + You can hear the blackbirds jawin' as they foller up the plow-- + Oh, theyr bound to git theyr brekfast, and theyr not a-carin' how; + So they quarrel in the furries, and they quarrel on the wing-- + But theyr peaceabler in pot-pies than any other thing: + And it's when I git my shotgun drawed up in stiddy rest, + She's as full of tribbelation as a yeller-jacket's nest; + And a few shots before dinner, when the sun's a-shinin' right, + Seems to kindo'-sorto' sharpen up a feller's appetite! + + They's been a heap o' rain, but the sun's out to-day, + And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared away, + And the woods is all the greener, and the grass is greener still; + It may rain again to-morry, but I don't think it will. + Some says the crops is ruined, and the corn's drownded out, + And propha-sy the wheat will be a failure, without doubt; + But the kind Providence that has never failed us yet, + Will be on hands onc't more at the 'leventh hour, I bet! + + Does the medder-lark complane, as he swims high and dry + Through the waves of the wind and the blue of the sky? + Does the quail set up and whissel in a disappinted way, + Er hang his head in silunce, and sorrow all the day? + Is the chipmuck's health a-failin'?--Does he walk, er does he run? + Don't the buzzards ooze around up thare jest like they've allus done? + Is they anything the matter with the rooster's lungs er voice? + Ort a mortul be complanin' when dumb animals rejoice? + + Then let us, one and all, be contentud with our lot; + The June is here this mornin', and the sun is shining hot. + Oh! let us fill our harts up with the glory of the day, + And banish ev'ry doubt and care and sorrow fur away! + Whatever be our station, with Providence fer guide, + Sich fine circumstances ort to make us satisfied; + Fer the world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew, + And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips fer me and you. + + + + +THE MODERN FARMER[2] + +BY JACK APPLETON + + + Observe the modern farmer! In the shade + He works his crops by letters-patent now: + Steam drives the reaper (which is union-made), + As in the spring it pushed the auto-plough; + A patent milker manages each cow; + Electric currents guide the garden spade, + And cattle, poultry, pigs through "process" wade + To quick perfection--Science shows them how. + But while machinery plants and reaps, he rests + Upon his porch, and listens to the quail + That pipe far off in yonder hand-made vale, + With muscles flabby and with strength gone stale, + Until, in desperation, he invests + In "Muscle-Building Motions Taught by Mail"! + +[Footnote 2: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +THE APOSTASY OF WILLIAM DODGE + +BY STANLEY WATERLOO + + +Billy Dodge rose from a seat near the door, and gave the two ladies +chairs. Kate looked at him and smiled. The voice of the speaker seemed +far away as she thought of the boy and his enthusiasms. Of all the +earnest and sincere converts in the Lakeside House none could compare +with Master William Dodge, the only son of the mistress of the place. He +might be only eleven years old, he might be the most freckled boy in the +block, but he had received new light, and he had his convictions. He had +listened, and he had learned. He had learned that if you "hold a +thought" and carry it around with you on a piece of paper, and read it +from time to time throughout the day, it will bring you strength and +give you victory in all the affairs of life. He thought the matter over +much, for he had great need. He wanted help. + +Of Master William Dodge, known as Billy, it may be said that in school +he had ordinarily more fights on his hands than any other boy of his age +and size, and it may be said, also, that as a rule, where the chances +were anywhere near even, he came out "on top." But doggedly brave as the +little freckled villain was, he had down in the bottom of his heart an +appreciation that some day Jim McMasters might lick him. Jim McMasters +was a boy only some six months older than Billy, of North of Ireland +blood--than which there is none better--a lank, scrawny, reddish-haired +youngster, freckled almost as profusely as Billy. Three times had they +met in noble battle, and three times had Billy been the conqueror, but +somehow the spirit of young McMasters did not seem particularly broken, +nor did he become a serf. Billy felt that the air was full of portent, +and he didn't like it. + +It was just at this time that to Billy came the conviction that by +"holding the thought" he would have what he called "the bulge on Jim," +and having the energy of his convictions, he promptly set to the work of +getting up texts which he could carry around in his pocket and which +would make him just invincible. He talked cautiously with Mandy Make as +to good watch-words, in no way revealing his designs, and from her +secured certain texts which she had herself unconsciously memorized from +many hearings of Jowler preachers. They were: + +"Fight the good fight." +"Never give up." +"He never fails who dies in a good cause." +"Never say die." + +For a time Billy was content with these quotations, written in a +school-boy hand upon brown paper, and carried in his left-hand trousers +pocket, but later he discovered that most of the scientists in the house +who "held a thought" themselves prepared their own little bit of +manuscript to be carried and read during the day, and that the text was +made to apply to their special needs. Billy, after much meditation, +concluded this was the thing for him, and with great travail he composed +and wrote out the new texts which he should carry constantly and which +should be his bulwark. Here they are: + +"Ketch hold prompt and hang on." +"Strike from the shoulder." +"A kick for a blow, always bestow." +"When you get a good thing, keep it--keep it." +"When you get a black cat, skin it to the tail." + +Only a week later one William Dodge and one Jim McMasters again met in +more or less mortal combat, and one William Dodge, repeating the shorter +of his texts as he fought, was again the victor. + +"Gimme Christian Science!" he said to himself, as he put on his coat +after the fray was over. + + * * * * * + +Billy Dodge was fast drifting, although unconsciously, toward a crisis +in his religious and worldly experiences. At school, during the last +term, and so far in the summer vacation, his scheme of fortifying his +physical powers with mental stimulants in the form of warlike "thoughts" +had worked well. His chief rival for the honors of war, an energetic +youngster, whose name, Jim McMasters, proclaimed his Irish ancestry, he +had soundly thrashed more than once since adopting his new tactics. So +far Billy had found that to hold the thought, "Ketch hold prompt and +hang on," while he acted vigorously upon that stirring sentiment, meant +victory, and he had more than once tried the efficacy of, "Strike from +the shoulder," under adverse conditions and with success. + +It was during this summer of anxiety to the more important personages of +this story that Billy Dodge was called upon to prove the practical value +of his belief in the supremacy of mind over matter, and although Billy +emerged from the trial none the worse for his experience, it effected a +radical change in his views. + +Jim McMasters returned one summer's day from a short camping excursion +in the Michigan woods. He had been the only boy in a party of young men, +and during their spare hours, as the members of the fishing party were +lying around camp, they had instructed Jim in a few of the first +principles of the noble science of self-defense. This unselfish action +on the part of his elders was brought about by Jim's bitter complaints +of Billy's treatment of himself in a fair fight, and by his dire thirst +for vengeance. + +And so Jim McMasters came back to the city a dangerous opponent, and he +looked it. Even Billy, secure in the prestige of former victories, and +armed with hidden weapons--namely, the "thoughts" he so tenaciously +held--felt some misgivings when he saw Jim and noted his easy, +swaggering mien. + +"I've got to lick him again," thought Billy, "and I've got to be good +and ready for him this time. I must get a set of thoughts well learned +and hold 'em, or I'll be lammed out of my life." + +The youngsters met one day, each with his following of admirers, in a +vacant lot not far from the Lakeside House. There was a queer look in +Jim's eye when he hailed Billy, and there was instant response in +language of a violent character from the young disciple of Christian +Science. As the two stood in a ring of boys, each watching the other and +alert to catch some advantage of beginning, Billy was certainly the most +unconcerned, and he appeared to advantage. He was occupied throughout +every nerve and vein of his being, first in "holding the thought" he had +fixed upon for this special occasion, and second, by his plan of attack, +for Billy made it a point always to take the initiative in a fight. + +As for Jim, that active descendant of the Celts failed to exhibit that +alarm and apprehension which should appertain to a young gentleman of +his age when facing an antagonist who had "whaled" him repeatedly. His +face was neither sallow with long dread, nor white with present fear +before his former conqueror. In fact, it must be said of him that he +capered about in a fashion not particularly graceful. He rose upon the +ends of his toes and made wild feints which Billy did not understand. It +was hard, under such disquieting circumstances, to hold a thought, and +Billy found himself struggling in mind for equilibrium while he stood +forward to the attack. He aimed a wild blow at his capering opponent, +and drove into soundless air only, and before he could recover himself +the capering opponent had "landed" on Billy's cheek in a most surprising +but altogether unrefreshing manner. + +The concussion made the cheek the color of an old-fashioned peony, and +the jar caused the nose to bleed a little as the astonished Billy +staggered back under the impact of a clenched fist. + +Then the real fight began, but Billy, though he made a strong effort to +rally, was beaten, and he knew, or thought he knew, why he was beaten. +"It was holding the thought that done it," he faltered, as he fell after +a quick stroke from Jim. He lay quiet on the grass, and his one wish was +to die. He fixed his mind resolutely upon this wish, but failed to die +at once; indeed he felt every moment the reviving forces of life +throbbing through his tough young body. How could he look up and face +his victorious foe? He decided rather to continue his efforts to die, +and forthwith stiffened out into such rigidity as can be observed only +in the bodies of those who have been dead forty-eight hours. + +This manoeuver frightened the lads around him. "See here!" said Johnny +Flynn, "Billy's hurt bad, an' we ought to do something." + +"He looks dead!" whimpered little Davy Runnion, the smallest boy +present, and he ran off to tell Jim McMasters, who stood at ease, at a +short distance, arranging his disordered dress. + +The victor faltered as he looked upon Billy's stiffened limbs. + +"We must take him home," he said, ruefully. + +Four boys lifted Billy, two at his shoulders, two at his feet. In the +center he sagged slightly, despite his silent efforts to be rigidity +itself. The small procession was preceded by a rabble of white-faced +small boys, while the rear was guarded by Jim McMasters, meditating on +the reflection that victory might be too dearly bought. Just as they +reached the front steps of Mrs. Dodge's house, and were beginning the +tug up toward the door, Jim burst into a loud bawl, and this so much +disconcerted the youngsters who were carrying Billy that they almost +dropped him on the white door-stone. + +Johnny Flynn gave a mighty ring at the door-bell, and then fled down the +steps and ran to the street corner, where he stood, one foot in the air, +ready to run when the door opened. The neat maid who answered the bell +gave a little shriek when she saw Billy's inanimate form. The boys +pushed by her, dumped their burden upon the big hall sofa, and rushed +out before any questions could be asked. It was plain enough, however, +that Billy had got the worst of the fight. "And sure enough he deserves +it," mentally pronounced the servant maid as she ran to call her +mistress. + +Mrs. Dodge gave a dismal shriek when she saw Billy. She sent the maid +for Dr. Gordon, and sat down on the sofa with Billy's head in her lap. +This was ignominious, and Billy decided to live. He opened his eyes, and +in a faint voice asked for water. + +When the man of medicine arrived he ordered the vanquished to bed. In +the goodness of his heart, pitying the household of women, he even +carried Billy upstairs and assisted in undressing him. The doctor +noticed during this process various small folded papers flying out of +Billy's pockets, but he did not know their meaning. It was left for Cora +and Pearl, later in the day, to pick them up and examine them. Alas for +Billy's faith! + +In his own boyish handwriting were his inspiring "thoughts," "Never say +die," "Ketch hold prompt," etc. Billy turned his face to the wall with a +groan as the twins laid the slips of paper on his pillow. + +That evening, after Billy had held a long session of sweet, silent +thought, for he could not sleep, and had eaten a remarkably good supper, +he opened his mind to his mother. + +"No more of these for me," he began, brushing the texts from his bed +onto the floor. + +"Of what, Willy?" questioned Mrs. Dodge. + +"No more holdin' the thought, and all that," said Billy. "I'm through. +Had too much. That's what did me up. If I hadn't been trying to think +that blamed thought, I'd 'a' seen Jim a-comin'." + +"But, Willy," expostulated Mrs. Dodge, "you must hold fast." + +"Hold nothin'!" said Billy. He arose and sat up very straight in the +bed. "I tell you I am goin' to have no more nonsense. Gimme quinine, +hell, a gold basis, and capital punishment! That's my platform from this +on. I'm goin' to look up a good Sunday-school to-morrow, in a church +with a steeple on it, and a strict, regular minister, and all the +fixin's. Remember, mother, after this I travel on my muscle weekdays, +and keep Sunday like a clock!" + +The twins picked up the scattered thoughts from the floor--Billy was +lying in his mother's room--and their eyes were big with wonder. + +"Burn 'em!" commanded Billy. Then, on second thought, he relented +slightly. "Keep 'em yourself if you want to," he said to the twins. +"Holdin' the thought may be all right for girls, but with boys it don't +work!" + + + + +SO WAGS THE WORLD + +BY ANNE WARNER + +(With apologies to Samuel Pepys, Esquire) + + +_February first_ + +My birthday and I exceedingly merry thereat having in divers friends and +much good wine beside two pasties and more of all than we could eat and +drink had we been doubled. Afterwards to the play-house and a very good +play and hence to a supper the which most hot and comforting with a butt +of brandy and divers cocktails and they being very full did make great +sport and joke me that I had never taken a wife to which replied neatly +saying that for my part in my twenties did feel myself too young and in +my thirties did never chance upon one comely and to my taste at which +great applause and pretty to see me bow to right and left although in +mortal fear lest something give way, I being grown heavier of late and +the quality of cloth suffering from the New York Custom House. The +applause being over did continue my speech and say that in my forties +had had little time to think of aught but my own personal affairs, but +that now being come to my fifties was well disposed to share them and +they did all drink to that and smash their glasses with right good cheer +prophesying my marriage and drinking long life to Her and me and Lord +but it did like me to hear speak of Her the which brought tears to mine +eyes, considering that they did speak of my wife, and so did weep freely +and they with me. My mind then a blank but home in some shape and the +maid did get me to my room and what a head this morning! Misliketh me +much to bethink me how I did comport myself, but a man is fifty but +once. + +To mine office where did buy and sell as usual. + + +_February third_ + +Comes H. Nevil in a glass coach to take me to drive and did talk much of +his niece, she being fresh from France and of a good skin and fair +voice. Was of a great joy to ride in a glass coach and pleasant to look +constantly out backward, but great rattling and do think my modest +brougham sufficeth me well, but H. Nevil very disdainful of the brougham +and saith a man is known by the company he keepeth, the which strange in +mine eyes we being alone together in the coach but did go with him to a +horse dealer's. + +To mine office as usual and there did buy and sell. + + +_February eighth_ + +To dine with H. Nevil and his wife and she a monstrous pleasant lady and +the dinner good only the wine poor and my vest too tight which vastly +misliked me, I being loth to grow stout and yet all at odds with my +belts, the which trying me sadly for I do pay my tailor as many do not. +And the niece a striking fine girl modest and not raising her eyes the +which much to my taste and drinking only lambs-wool and at cards knowing +not tierce from deuce. H. Nevil making great ado over my new coach did +have it out with pride and we to the Country Club for a late supper, +the which well-cooked but my vest much tighter and so home and to bed. + +Railway stocks risen two points. + + +_February twentieth_ + +Did take a box at the Play and ask H. Nevil, his wife and niece and a +supper afterwards and pretty to see how miss did refuse mine eyes and +hardly speak two words, the which greatly to my admiration and after +supper did lead her to the coach and press her hand with curious effect +to mine own hair, the which strange and prickly and home and much +thinking on the merry talk at my birthday before sleep. + +Stocks falling somewhat. + + +_March nineteenth_ + +Much agitated and all trembling and of a cold sweat. The Lord have mercy +and me all unwitting until in some strange way do find myself today +betrothed the which I do heartily pray to be for the good of all +concerned, although expensive and worse to come. + +No heart for stocks, but the same arising. + + +_April sixteenth_ + +Do find the being betrothed more to my taste than anticipated and tell +H. Nevil he shall be remembered with pointers when the market turns +again. We to the park to drive each afternoon and many admiring of her +beauty, she desiring often to drive but I firm in refusing for I will be +master in my own house. + +Comes one Lasselle and makes a great tale of a mine and I with no time +for him, but do set the office boy to look him up in Bradstreet. + +These be busy days with a corner on parsnips. + + +_May tenth_ + +The business of being director in Lasselle's mine ended this day and to +a great dinner that he giveth in my honor and my portrait on all the +cards the which pleaseth me mightily and I all complimented and +congratulationed and sly hints on my approaching marriage to the which I +all smiles for Lord the thing being done one must be of good courage. + +Quotations low, beshrew them. + + +_June seventh (the Mountains)_ + +Married this day and to do in a turmoil wheat being all a-rage and me +forced to go home to dress before noon. Did scarce know where I was with +Extras being cried outside the church window and H. Nevil giving the +bride away and on the wrong side of the market by my advice. The bride +hystericky in the carriage and at the station wept so that I was fair +beside myself. Did bethink me to kiss her in the train, but small +comfort to either. What will become of my affairs I know not, this place +being all without stock reports and I half mad and with naught to pass +the time. + +Comes my wife as I write and will have the key to her largest trunk the +same it doth appear is lost, the which on discovery she layeth at my +door and weepeth afresh. Did strive to cheer her but with a heavy +heart. + + +_August tenth_ + +This do be the hottest summer in many years and lest I forget to set it +down more mad dogs than can well be handled. My wife very hystericky and +forever in a smock and declareth she would be dead and married life a +delusion, the which opinion I take small issue with having my hands full +of business and Lasselle forever at my heels with our affair of the mine +not to speak of H. Nevil which waileth continually over how he was +caught short in the month of June. Beshrew me if I repent not of June on +mine own behalf but am determined to live properly and so have +despatched a messenger to my cousin Sarah Badminton asking that she come +to keep mine house. + + +_August twentieth_ + +Comes Sarah Badminton this day and Lord but a plain woman, being flat +like unto a board from her heels up unto her head, but curiously shaped +in and out in front. Still she do seem a worthy jade and good at heart +and ever attentive when I will to converse and sitteth with me of a +breakfast my wife being ever asleep till ten. + +Last night to the Play where comes Lasselle and makes very merry and +telleth jokes the which of great amusement to my wife while I find no +mirth therein. Later to supper at the coffee house and my wife +exceedingly witty and me all of a wonder at the change in her in public +and on reflection do find it passing strange that one ugly like Mistress +Badminton will effort her to be gracious at home while one so handsome +as my wife sleeps ever. + +To my office where did buy and sell as usual. + + +_September sixteenth_ + +My wife not well and strangely indisposed towards me yawning unduly and +complaining that life is dull, yet gay enough for others and of a great +joy over riding horseback with Lasselle. Last night did chide her in bed +for upwards of an hour and misliked me greatly when I had done to find +that she slept for some while before. Will have the doctor to her for +there be surely something amiss in a woman who is not happy with me. + +To my office and H. Nevil all excitement over his margins. + + +_October twenty-ninth_ + +Returned this day from a trip to the Coast and find my wife no better +although the doctor hath been with her each day. She saith the doctor +adviseth quiet until spring. Comes Mrs. Badminton her face all awry and +will that I go with her to Carlsbad and my affairs so many as never was +and never any lover of the sea. That which causeth me great vexation +that I have a wife and say flatly to Mrs. Badminton to ask the doctor if +he can not take her to Carlsbad any money being wiser than to travel +with oats where they be now and chicken feed going up to beat the band, +at which the good woman raiseth her hands aloft and maketh such +demonstration that I clean out of patience and basted her with the fire +shovel the same being not courteous but sadly necessary to all +appearance. + + +_November sixth_ + +My wife most nervous and there being no peace with Her did discuss the +same with Lasselle to-day and although unmarried yet did sympathize +much and advise for me with a right good will telling me of a place in +southern France where he hath been and the same beyond all else for the +nerves only lonely but that not so bad since he proposeth going there +this winter himself and can see after my wife somewhat the which greatly +to my relief and so home and did discourse thereon with Mistress +Badminton the which drew a long face and plain to see was dead against +the plan the which putting me in a fine temper with what a woman hath +for brains. + +Wheat rising and A. B. & C. going down comes H. Nevil short to borrow +the which crowneth my fury his niece being so far from making me happy +and he being the cause of all. But did indorse two notes for him and so +home and to bed with a bad grace and glad that my wife has betaken +herself to another room. + + +_December ninth_ + +From the dock and my wife do be gone and now we may look for some peace +the which sad enough needed. + + +_December tenth_ + +Comes H. Nevil all distraught to say that it is about at the clubs that +my wife will have a divorce and marry the doctor, on the which hearing I +much annoyed and summon Mrs. Badminton who denyeth the doctor but +asserteth Lasselle whereupon we in a great taking and much brandy and +soda but at last reflection and do decide not to sue but to pity +Lasselle for of a verity she be forever out of temper and flounceth when +questioned. + +To mine office and D. & E. going up comes H. Nevil to borrow again the +gall of which doth take me greatly. + + +_January seventeenth_ + +Am all of a taking for that the papers in my wife's divorce do be filed +into me this day and great to do when I learn that the cause she +declareth is Sarah Badminton a woman as little comely as never was and +mine own cousin. Verily the ways of a wife be past understanding. + + +_April eleventh_ + +Free this day and being free comes Mrs. Badminton weeping and declareth +she be ruined if I marry her not next the which doth so overcome me that +ere I have time to rally she hath kissed me and called me hers. + +To my office with a heavy heart having no assurance of how this second +marriage will turn out and little hope but seeing H. Nevil with a long +face did refuse to give him any inside information the which led to his +going under about noon to my great joy for it was he who did get me in +this marrying habit. + + +_February first_ + +My birthday and Lord what eating and drinking the which being good +beyond compare my wife staying in the pantry to keep the whole in trim +and all my friends discoursing on my joy the which is truly great she +being so plain that a man will never look at her and so loving that she +adoreth me come smiles come frowns. + +But that which doth astonish me much is that H. Nevil telleth me that +she that was once my wife is of exceeding content with Lasselle a piece +of news which I can scarce credit comparing him with myself. + +But so wags the world. + + + + +THE PAINTERMINE[3] + +BY KENYON COX + + + Its innocence deserves no jibe-- + Pity the creature, do not mock it. + 'Tis type of all the artist tribe; + Its trousers haven't any pocket! + +[Footnote 3: From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.] + + + + +THE ADVERTISER + +BY EUGENE FIELD + + + I am an advertiser great! + In letters bold + The praises of my wares I sound, + Prosperity is my estate; + The people come, + The people go + In one continuous, + Surging flow. + They buy my goods and come again + And I'm the happiest of men; + And this the reason I relate, + I'm an advertiser great! + + There is a shop across the way + Where ne'er is heard a human tread, + Where trade is paralyzed and dead, + With ne'er a customer a day. + The people come, + The people go, + But never there. + They do not know + There's such a shop beneath the skies, + Because _he_ does not advertise! + While I with pleasure contemplate + That I'm an advertiser great. + + The secret of my fortune lies + In one small fact, which I may state, + Too many tradesmen learn too late, + If I have goods, I advertise. + Then people come + And people go + In constant streams, + For people know + That he who has good wares to sell + Will surely advertise them well; + And proudly I reiterate, + I am an advertiser great! + + + + +THE FAMOUS MULLIGAN BALL + +BY FRANK L. STANTON + + + Did ever you hear of the Mulligan ball--the Mulligan ball so fine, + Where we formed in ranks, and danced on planks, and swung 'em along + the line? + Where the first Four Hundred of the town moved at the music's call? + There was never a ball in the world at all--like the famous Mulligan + ball! + + Town was a bit of a village then, and never a house or shed + From street to street and beat to beat was higher than Mulligan's + head! + And never a theater troup came round to 'liven us, spring or fall, + And so Mulligan's wife she says, says she: "Plaze God, I'll give a + ball!" + + And she did--God rest her, and save her, too! (I'm liftin' to her + my hat!) + And never a ball at all, at all, was half as fine as that! + Never no invitations sent--nothin' like that at all; + But the whole Four Hundred combed their hair and went to the Mulligan + ball. + + And "Take yer places!" says Mulligan, "an' dance till you shake the + wall!" + And I led Mrs. Mulligan off as the lady that gave the ball; + And we whirled around till we shook the ground, with never a stop at + all; + And I kicked the heels from my boots--please God--at the famous + Mulligan ball. + + Mulligan jumped till he hit the roof, and the head of him went clean + through it! + The shingles fell on the floor pell-mell! Says Mulligan: "Faith, I + knew it!" + But we kept right on when the roof was gone, with never a break at + all; + We danced away till the break o' day at the famous Mulligan ball. + + But the best of things must pass away like the flowers that fade and + fall, + And it's fifty years, as the records say, since we danced at + Mulligan's ball; + And the new Four Hundred never dance like the Mulligans danced--at + all, + And I'm longing still, though my hair is gray, for a ball like + Mulligan's ball! + + And I drift in dreams to the old-time town, and I hear the fiddle + sing; + And Mulligan sashays up and down till the rafters rock and ring! + Suppose, if I had a woman's eye, maybe a tear would fall + For the old-time fellows who took the prize at the famous Mulligan + ball! + + + + +THE GENIAL IDIOT DISCUSSES THE MUSIC CURE + +BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS + + +"Good morning, Doctor," said the Idiot as Capsule, M.D., entered the +dining-room. "I am mighty glad you've come. I've wanted for a long time +to ask you about this music cure that everybody is talking about and get +you if possible to write me out a list of musical nostrums for every day +use. I noticed last night before going to bed that my medicine chest was +about run out. There's nothing but one quinine pill and a soda-mint drop +in it, and if there's anything in the music cure I don't think I'll have +it filled again. I prefer Wagner to squills, and compared to the +delights of Mozart, Hayden and Offenbach those of paregoric are nit." + +"Still rambling, eh?" vouchsafed the Doctor. "You ought to submit your +tongue to some scientific student of dynamics. I am inclined to think, +from my own observation of its ways, that it contains the germ of +perpetual motion." + +"I will consider your suggestion," replied the Idiot. "Meanwhile, let us +consult harmoniously together on the original point. Is there anything +in this music cure, and is it true that our Medical Schools are +hereafter to have conservatories attached to them in which aspiring +young M.D.'s are to be taught the _materia musica_ in addition to the +_materia medica_?" + +"I had heard of no such idiotic proposition," returned the Doctor. "And +as for the music cure I don't know anything about it. Haven't heard +everybody talking about it, and doubt the existence of any such thing +outside of that mysterious realm which is bounded by the four corners of +your own bright particular cerebellum. What do you mean by the music +cure?" + +"Why, the papers have been full of it lately," explained the Idiot. "The +claim is made that in music lies the panacea for all human ills. It may +not be able to perform a surgical operation like that which is required +for the removal of a leg, and I don't believe even Wagner ever composed +a measure that could be counted on successfully to eliminate one's +vermiform appendix from its chief sphere of usefulness, but for other +things, like measles, mumps, the snuffles, or indigestion, it is said to +be wonderfully efficacious; What I wanted to find out from you was just +what composers were best for which specific troubles." + +"You'll have to go to somebody else for the information," said the +Doctor. "I never heard of the theory and, as I said before, I don't +believe anybody else has, barring your own sweet self." + +"I have seen a reference to it somewhere," put in Mr. Whitechoker, +coming to the Idiot's rescue. "As I recall the matter, some lady had +been cured of a nervous affection by a scientific application of some +musical poultice or other, and the general expectation seems to be that +some day we shall find in music a cure for all our human ills, as the +Idiot suggests." + +"Thank you, Mr. Whitechoker," said the Idiot gratefully. "I saw that +same item and several others besides, and I have only told the truth +when I say that a large number of people are considering the +possibilities of music as a substitute for drugs. I am surprised that +Doctor Capsule has neither heard nor thought about it, for I should +think it would prove to be a pleasant and profitable field for +speculation. Even I who am only a dabbler in medicine, and know no more +about it than the effects of certain remedies upon my own symptoms, have +noticed that music of a certain sort is a sure emollient for nervous +conditions." + +"For example?" said the Doctor. "Of course we don't doubt your word, but +when a man makes a statement based upon personal observation it is +profitable to ask him what his precise experience has been merely for +the purpose of adding to our own knowledge." + +"Well," said the Idiot, "the first instance that I can recall is that of +a Wagner Opera and its effects upon me. For a number of years I suffered +a great deal from insomnia. I could not get two hours of consecutive +sleep and the effect of my sufferings was to make me nervous and +irritable. Suddenly somebody presented me with a couple of tickets for a +performance of Parsifal and I went. It began at five o'clock in the +afternoon. For twenty minutes all went serenely and then the music began +to work. I fell into a deep and refreshing slumber. The intermission +came, and still I slept on. Everybody else went home, dressed for the +evening part of the performance, had their dinner, and returned. Still I +slept and continued so to do until midnight when one of the gentlemanly +ushers came and waked me up and told me that the performance was over. I +rubbed my eyes and looked about me. It was true, the great auditorium +was empty, and was gradually darkening. I put on my hat and walked out +refreshed, having slept from five twenty until twelve, or six hours and +forty minutes, straight. That was one instance. Two weeks later I went +again, this time to hear _Die Goetherdammerung_. The results were the +same, only the effect was instantaneous. The curtain had hardly risen +before I retired to the little ante-room of the box our party occupied +and dozed off into a fathomless sleep. I didn't wake up this time until +nine o'clock the next day, the rest of the party having gone off without +awakening me, as a sort of joke. Clearly Wagner, according to my way of +thinking, then deserves to rank among the most effective narcotics known +to modern science. I have tried all sorts of other things--sulfonal, +trionel, bromide powders, and all the rest and not one of them produced +anything like the soporific results that two doses of Wagner brought +about in one instant, and best of all there was no reaction. No +splitting headache or shaky hand the next day, but just the calm, quiet, +contented feeling that goes with the sense of having got completely +rested up." + +"You run a dreadful risk, however," said the Doctor, with a sarcastic +smile. "The Wagner habit is a terrible thing to acquire, Mr. Idiot." + +"That may be," said the Idiot. "Worse than the sulfonal habit by a great +deal I am told, but I am in no danger of becoming a victim to it while +it costs from five to seven dollars a dose. In addition to this +experience I have also the testimony of a friend of mine who was cured +of a frightful attack of the colic by Sullivan's Lost Chord played on a +Cornet. He had spent the day down at Asbury Park and had eaten not +wisely but too copiously. Among other things that he turned loose in his +inner man were two plates of Lobster Salade, a glass of fresh cider and +a saucerful of pistache ice-cream. He was a painter by profession and +the color scheme he thus introduced into his digestive apparatus was too +much for his artistic soul. He was not fitted by temperament to +assimilate anything quite so strenuously chromatic as that, and as a +consequence shortly after he had retired to his studio for the night +the conflicting tints began to get in their deadly work and within two +hours he was completely doubled up. The pain he suffered was awful. +Agony was bliss alongside of the pangs that now afflicted him and all +the palliatives and pain killers known to man were tried without avail, +and then, just as he was about to give himself up for lost, an amateur +cornetist who occupied a studio on the floor above began to play the +Lost Chord. A counter-pain set in immediately. At the second bar of the +Lost Chord the awful pain that was gradually gnawing away at his vitals +seemed to lose its poignancy in the face of the greater suffering, and +physical relief was instant. As the musician proceeded the internal +disorder yielded gradually to the external and finally passed away +entirely, leaving him so far from prostrated that by one A.M. he was out +of bed and actually girding himself with a shotgun and an Indian Club to +go upstairs for a physical encounter with the cornetist." + +"And you reason from this that Sullivan's Lost Chord is a cure for +Cholera morbus, eh?" sneered the Doctor. + +"It would seem so," said the Idiot. "While the music continued my friend +was a well man ready to go out and fight like a warrior, but when the +cornetist stopped--the colic returned and he had to fight it out in the +old way. In these episodes in my own experience I find ample +justification for my belief and that of others that some day the music +cure for human ailments will be recognized and developed to the full. +Families going off to the country for the summer instead of taking a +medicine-chest along with them will go provided with a music-box with +cylinders for mumps, measles, summer complaint, whooping-cough, +chicken-pox, chills and fever and all the other ills the flesh is heir +to. Scientific experiment will demonstrate before long what composition +will cure specific ills. If a baby has whooping-cough, an anxious +mother, instead of ringing up the Doctor, will go to the piano and give +the child a dose of Hiawatha. If a small boy goes swimming and catches a +cold in his head and is down with a fever, his nurse, an expert on the +accordeon, can bring him back to health again with three bars of Under +the Bamboo Tree after each meal. Instead of dosing kids with cod liver +oil when they need a tonic, they will be set to work at a mechanical +piano and braced up on Narcissus. There'll Be a Hot Time In The Old Town +To-Night will become an effective remedy for a sudden chill. People +suffering from sleeplessness can dose themselves back to normal +conditions again with Wagner the way I did. Tchaikowski, to be well +Tshaken before taken, will be an effective remedy for a torpid liver, +and the man or woman who suffers from lassitude will doubtless find in +the lively airs of our two-step composers an efficient tonic to bring +their vitality up to a high standard of activity. Nothing in it? Why, +Doctor, there's more in it that's in sight to-day that is promising and +suggestive of great things in the future than there was of the principle +of gravitation in the rude act of that historic pippin that left the +parent tree and swatted Sir Isaac Newton on the nose." + +"And the Drug Stores will be driven out of business, I presume," said +the Doctor. + +"No," said the Idiot. "They will substitute music for drugs, that is +all. Every man who can afford it will have his own medical phonograph or +music-box, and the drug stores will sell cylinders and records for them +instead of quinine, carbonate of soda, squills, paregoric and other +nasty tasting things they have now. This alone will serve to popularize +sickness and instead of being driven out of business their trade will +pick up." + +"And the Doctor? And the Doctor's gig and all the appurtenances of his +profession--what becomes of them?" demanded the Doctor. + +"We'll have to have the Doctor just the same to prescribe for us, only +he will have to be a musician, but the gig--I'm afraid that will have to +go," said the Idiot. + +"And why, pray?" asked the Doctor. "Because there are no more drugs must +the physician walk?" + +"Not at all," said the Idiot. "But he'd be better equipped if he drove +about in a piano-organ, or if he preferred an auto on a steam +calliope." + + + + +THE OCTOPUSSYCAT[4] + +BY KENYON COX + + + I love Octopussy, his arms are so long; + There's nothing in nature so sweet as his song. + 'Tis true I'd not touch him--no, not for a farm! + If I keep at a distance he'll do me no harm. + +[Footnote 4: From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.] + + + + +THE BOOK-CANVASSER + +ANONYMOUS + + +He came into my office with a portfolio under his arm. Placing it upon +the table, removing a ruined hat, and wiping his nose upon a ragged +handkerchief that had been so long out of the wash that it was +positively gloomy, he said,-- + +"Mr. ----, I'm canvassing for the National Portrait Gallery; very +valuable work; comes in numbers, fifty cents apiece; contains pictures +of all the great American heroes from the earliest times down to the +present day. Everybody subscribing for it, and I want to see if I can't +take your name. + +"Now, just cast your eyes over that," he said, opening his book and +pointing to an engraving. "That's--lemme see--yes, that's Columbus. +Perhaps you've heard sumfin' about him? The publisher was telling me +to-day before I started out that he discovered--no; was it Columbus that +dis--oh, yes, Columbus he discovered America,--was the first man here. +He came over in a ship, the publisher said, and it took fire, and he +stayed on deck because his father told him to, if I remember right, and +when the old thing busted to pieces he was killed. Handsome picture, +ain't it? Taken from a photograph; all of 'em are; done especially for +this work. His clothes are kinder odd, but they say that's the way they +dressed in them days. + +"Look at this one. Now, isn't that splendid? That's William Penn, one of +the early settlers. I was reading t'other day about him. When he first +arrived he got a lot of Indians up a tree, and when they shook some +apples down he set one on top of his son's head and shot an arrow plump +through it and never fazed him. They say it struck them Indians cold, he +was such a terrific shooter. Fine countenance, hasn't he? face shaved +clean; he didn't wear a moustache, I believe, but he seems to have let +himself out on hair. Now, my view is that every man ought to have a +picture of that patriarch, so's to see how the fust settlers looked and +what kind of weskets they used to wear. See his legs, too! Trousers a +little short, maybe, as if he was going to wade in a creek; but he's all +there. Got some kind of a paper in his hand, I see. Subscription-list, I +reckon. Now, how does that strike you? + +"There's something nice. That, I think is--is--that--a--a--yes, to be +sure, Washington; you recollect him, of course? Some people call him +Father of his Country. George--Washington. Had no middle name, I +believe. He lived about two hundred years ago, and he was a fighter. I +heard the publisher telling a man about him crossing the Delaware River +up yer at Trenton, and seems to me, if I recollect right, I've read +about it myself. He was courting some girl on the Jersey side, and he +used to swim over at nights to see her when the old man was asleep. The +girl's family were down on him, I reckon. He looks like a man to do +that, don't he? He's got it in his eye. If it'd been me I'd gone over on +a bridge; but he probably wanted to show off afore her; some men are so +reckless, you know. Now, if you'll conclude to take this I'll get the +publisher to write out some more stories, and bring 'em round to you, +so's you can study up on him. I know he did ever so many other things, +but I've forgot 'em; my memory's so awful poor. + +"Less see! Who have we next? Ah, Franklin! Benjamin Franklin! He was +one of the old original pioneers, I think. I disremember exactly what he +is celebrated for, but I think it was a flying a--oh, yes, flying a +kite, that's it. The publisher mentioned it. He was out one day flying a +kite, you know, like boys do nowadays, and while she was a-flickering up +in the sky, and he was giving her more string, an apple fell off a tree +and hit him on the head; then he discovered the attraction of +gravitation, I think they call it. Smart, wasn't it? Now, if you or me'd +'a' ben hit, it'd just made us mad, like as not, and set us a-ravin'. +But men are so different. One man's meat's another man's pison. See what +a double chin he's got. No beard on him, either, though a goatee would +have been becoming to such a round face. He hasn't got on a sword, and I +reckon he was no soldier; fit some when he was a boy, maybe, or went out +with the home-guard, but not a regular warrior. I ain't one myself, and +I think all the better of him for it. + +"Ah, here we are! Look at that! Smith and Pocahontas! John Smith! Isn't +that gorgeous? See how she kneels over him, and sticks out her hands +while he lays on the ground and that big fellow with a club tries to +hammer him up. Talk about woman's love! There it is for you. Modocs, I +believe; anyway, some Indians out West there, somewheres; and the +publisher tells me that Captain Shackanasty, or whatever his name is, +there, was going to bang old Smith over the head with a log of wood, and +this here girl she was sweet on Smith, it appears, and she broke loose, +and jumped forward, and says to the man with a stick, 'Why don't you let +John alone? Me and him are going to marry, and if you kill him I'll +never speak to you as long as I live,' or words like them, and so the +man he give it up, and both of them hunted up a preacher and were +married and lived happy ever afterward. Beautiful story, isn't it? A +good wife she made him, too, I'll bet, if she was a little +copper-colored. And don't she look just lovely in that picture? But +Smith appears kinder sick; evidently thinks his goose is cooked; and I +don't wonder, with that Modoc swooping down on him with such a +discouraging club. + +"And now we come to--to--ah--to--Putnam,--General Putnam: he fought in +the war, too; and one day a lot of 'em caught him when he was off his +guard, and they tied him flat on his back on a horse and then licked the +horse like the very mischief. And what does that horse do but go +pitching down about four hundred stone steps in front of the house, with +General Putnam lying there nearly skeered to death! Leastways, the +publisher said somehow that way, and I once read about it myself. But he +came out safe, and I reckon sold the horse and made a pretty good thing +of it. What surprises me is he didn't break his neck; but maybe it was a +mule, for they're pretty sure-footed, you know. Surprising what some of +these men have gone through, ain't it? + +"Turn over a couple of leaves. That's General Jackson. My father shook +hands with him once. He was a fighter, I know. He fit down in New +Orleans. Broke up the rebel legislature, and then when the Ku-Kluxes got +after him he fought 'em behind cotton breastworks and licked 'em till +they couldn't stand. They say he was terrific when he got real mad,--hit +straight from the shoulder, and fetched his man every time. Andrew his +fust name was; and look how his hair stands up. + +"And then here's John Adams, and Daniel Boone, and two or three pirates, +and a whole lot more pictures; so you see it's cheap as dirt. Lemme have +your name, won't you?" + + + + +HER VALENTINE + +BY RICHARD HOVEY + + + What, send her a valentine? Never! + I see you don't know who "she" is. + I should ruin my chances forever; + My hopes would collapse with a fizz. + + I can't see why she scents such disaster + When I take heart to venture a word; + I've no dream of becoming her master, + I've no notion of being her lord. + + All I want is to just be her lover! + She's the most up-to-date of her sex, + And there's such a multitude of her, + No wonder they call her complex. + + She's a bachelor, even when married, + She's a vagabond, even when housed; + And if ever her citadel's carried + Her suspicions must not be aroused. + + She's erratic, impulsive and human, + And she blunders,--as goddesses can; + But if _she's_ what they call the New Woman, + Then _I'd_ like to be the New Man. + + I'm glad she makes books and paints pictures, + And typewrites and hoes her own row, + And it's quite beyond reach of conjectures + How much further she's going to go. + + When she scorns, in the L-road, my proffer + Of a seat and hangs on to a strap; + I admire her so much, I could offer + To let her ride up on my lap. + + Let her undo the stays of the ages, + That have cramped and confined her so long! + Let her burst through the frail candy cages + That fooled her to think they were strong! + + She may enter life's wide vagabondage, + She may do without flutter or frill, + She may take off the chains of her bondage,-- + And anything else that she will. + + She may take _me_ off, for example, + And she probably does when I'm gone. + I'm aware the occasion is ample; + That's why I so often take on. + + I'm so glad she can win her own dollars + And know all the freedom it brings. + I love her in shirt-waists and collars, + I love her in dress-reform things. + + I love her in bicycle skirtlings-- + Especially when there's a breeze-- + I love her in crinklings and quirklings + And anything else that you please. + + I dote on her even in bloomers-- + If Parisian enough in their style-- + In fact, she may choose her costumers, + Wherever her fancy beguile. + + She may box, she may shoot, she may wrestle, + She may argue, hold office or vote, + She may engineer turret or trestle, + And build a few ships that will float. + + She may lecture (all lectures but curtain) + Make money, and naturally spend, + If I let her have _her_ way, I'm certain + She'll let me have _mine_ in the end! + + + + +THE WELSH RABBITTERN[5] + +BY KENYON COX + + + This is a very fearsome bird + Who sits upon men's chests at night. + With horrid stare his eyeballs glare: + He flies away at morning's light. + +[Footnote 5: From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright, 1904, by +Fox, Duffield & Co.] + + + + +COMIC MISERIES + +BY JOHN G. SAXE + + +I + + My dear young friend, whose shining wit + Sets all the room ablaze, + Don't think yourself "a happy dog," + For all your merry ways; + But learn to wear a sober phiz, + Be stupid, if you can, + It's such a very serious thing + To be a funny man! + + +II + + You're at an evening party, with + A group of pleasant folks,-- + You venture quietly to crack + The least of little jokes: + A lady doesn't catch the point, + And begs you to explain,-- + Alas for one who drops a jest + And takes it up again! + + +III + + You're taking deep philosophy + With very special force, + To edify a clergyman + With suitable discourse: + You think you've got him,--when he calls + A friend across the way, + And begs you'll say that funny thing + You said the other day! + + +IV + + You drop a pretty _jeu-de-mot_ + Into a neighbor's ears, + Who likes to give you credit for + The clever thing he hears, + And so he hawks your jest about, + The old, authentic one, + Just breaking off the point of it, + And leaving out the pun! + + +V + + By sudden change in politics, + Or sadder change in Polly, + You lose your love, or loaves, and fall + A prey to melancholy, + While everybody marvels why + Your mirth is under ban, + They think your very grief "a joke," + You're such a funny man! + + +VI + + You follow up a stylish card + That bids you come and dine, + And bring along your freshest wit + (To pay for musty wine); + You're looking very dismal, when + My lady bounces in, + And wonders what you're thinking of, + And why you don't begin! + + +VII + + You're telling to a knot of friends + A fancy-tale of woes + That cloud your matrimonial sky, + And banish all repose,-- + A solemn lady overhears + The story of your strife, + And tells the town the pleasant news:-- + You quarrel with your wife! + + +VIII + + My dear young friend, whose shining wit + Sets all the room ablaze, + Don't think yourself "a happy dog," + For all your merry ways; + But learn to wear a sober phiz, + Be stupid, if you can, + It's such a very serious thing + To be a funny man! + + + + +THE MERCHANT AND THE BOOK-AGENT + +ANONYMOUS + + +A book-agent importuned James Watson, a rich merchant living a few miles +out of the city, until he bought a book,--the "Early Christian Martyrs." +Mr. Watson didn't want the book, but he bought it to get rid of the +agent; then, taking it under his arm, he started for the train which +takes him to his office in the city. + +Mr. Watson hadn't been gone long before Mrs. Watson came home from a +neighbor's. The book-agent saw her, and went in and persuaded the wife +to buy a copy of the book. She was ignorant of the fact that her husband +had bought the same book in the morning. When Mr. Watson came back in +the evening, he met his wife with a cheery smile as he said, "Well, my +dear, how have you enjoyed yourself to-day? Well, I hope?" + +"Oh, yes! had an early caller this morning." + +"Ah, and who was she?" + +"It wasn't a 'she' at all; it was a gentleman,--a book-agent." + +"A what?" + +"A book-agent; and to get rid of his importuning I bought his book,--the +'Early Christian Martyrs.' See, here it is," she exclaimed, advancing +toward her husband. + +"I don't want to see it," said Watson, frowning terribly. + +"Why, husband?" asked his wife. + +"Because that rascally book-agent sold me the same book this morning. +Now we've got two copies of the same book,--two copies of the 'Early +Christian Martyrs,' and--" + +"But, husband, we can--" + +"No, we can't, either!" interrupted Mr. Watson. "The man is off on the +train before this. Confound it! I could kill the fellow. I--" + +"Why, there he goes to the depot now," said Mrs. Watson, pointing out of +the window at the retreating form of the book-agent making for the +train. + +"But it's too late to catch him, and I'm not dressed. I've taken off my +boots, and--" + +Just then Mr. Stevens, a neighbor of Mr. Watson, drove by, when Mr. +Watson pounded on the window-pane in a frantic manner, almost +frightening the horse. + +"Here, Stevens!" he shouted, "you're hitched up! Won't you run your +horse down to the train and hold that book-agent till I come? Run! Catch +'im now!" + +"All right," said Mr. Stevens, whipping up his horse and tearing down +the road. + +Mr. Stevens reached the train just as the conductor shouted, "All +aboard!" + +"Book-agent!" he yelled, as the book-agent stepped on the train. +"Book-agent, hold on! Mr. Watson wants to see you." + +"Watson? Watson wants to see me?" repeated the seemingly puzzled +book-agent. "Oh, I know what he wants: he wants to buy one of my books; +but I can't miss the train to sell it to him." + +"If that is all he wants, I can pay for it and take it back to him. How +much is it?" + +"Two dollars, for the 'Early Christian Martyrs,'" said the book-agent, +as he reached for the money and passed the book out of the car-window. + +Just then Mr. Watson arrived, puffing and blowing, in his +shirt-sleeves. As he saw the train pull out he was too full for +utterance. + +"Well, I got it for you," said Stevens,--"just got it, and that's all." + +"Got what?" yelled Watson. + +"Why, I got the book,--'Early Christian Martyrs,'--and paid--" + +"By--the--great--guns!" moaned Watson, as he placed his hands to his +brow and swooned right in the middle of the street. + + + + +THE COQUETTE + +_A Portrait_ + +BY JOHN G. SAXE + + + "You're clever at drawing, I own," + Said my beautiful cousin Lisette, + As we sat by the window alone, + "But say, can you paint a Coquette?" + + "She's painted already," quoth I; + "Nay, nay!" said the laughing Lisette, + "Now none of your joking,--but try + And paint me a thorough Coquette." + + "Well, cousin," at once I began + In the ear of the eager Lisette, + "I'll paint you as well as I can + That wonderful thing, a Coquette. + + "She wears a most beautiful face," + ("Of course!" said the pretty Lisette), + "And isn't deficient in grace, + Or else she were not a Coquette. + + "And then she is daintily made" + (A smile from the dainty Lisette), + "By people expert in the trade + Of forming a proper Coquette. + + "She's the winningest ways with the beaux," + ("Go on!"--said the winning Lisette), + "But there isn't a man of them knows + The mind of the fickle Coquette! + + "She knows how to weep and to sigh," + (A sigh from the tender Lisette), + "But her weeping is all in my eye,-- + Not that of the cunning Coquette! + + "In short, she's a creature of art," + ("Oh hush!" said the frowning Lisette), + "With merely the ghost of a heart,-- + Enough for a thorough Coquette. + + "And yet I could easily prove" + ("Now don't!" said the angry Lisette), + "The lady is always in love,-- + In love with herself,--the Coquette! + + "There,--do not be angry!--you know, + My dear little cousin Lisette, + You told me a moment ago + To paint _you_--a thorough Coquette!" + + + + +A SPRING FEELING + +BY BLISS CARMAN + + + I think it must be spring. I feel + All broken up and thawed. + I'm sick of everybody's "wheel"; + I'm sick of being jawed. + + I am too winter-killed to live, + Cold-sour through and through. + O Heavenly Barber, come and give + My soul a dry shampoo! + + I'm sick of all these nincompoops, + Who weep through yards of verse, + And all these sonneteering dupes + Who whine and froth and curse. + + I'm sick of seeing my own name + Tagged to some paltry line, + While this old _corpus_ without shame + Sits down to meat and wine. + + I'm sick of all these Yellow Books, + And all these Bodley Heads; + I'm sick of all these freaks and spooks + And frights in double leads. + + When good Napoleon's publisher + Was dangled from a limb, + He should have had an editor + On either side of him. + + I'm sick of all this taking on + Under a foreign name; + For when you call it _decadent_, + It's rotten just the same. + + I'm sick of all this puling trash + And namby-pamby rot,-- + A Pegasus you have to thrash + To make him even trot! + + An Age-end Art! I would not give, + For all their plotless plays, + One round Flagstaffian adjective + Or one Miltonic phrase. + + I'm sick of all this poppycock + In bilious green and blue; + I'm tired to death of taking stock + Of everything that's "New." + + New Art, New Movements, and New Schools, + All maimed and blind and halt! + And all the fads of the New Fools + Who can not earn their salt. + + I'm sick of the New Woman, too. + Good Lord, she's worst of all. + Her rights, her sphere, her point of view, + And all that folderol! + + She makes me wish I were the snake + Inside of Eden's wall, + To give the tree another shake, + And see another fall. + + I'm very much of Byron's mind; + I like sufficiency; + But just the common garden kind + Is good enough for me. + + I want to find a warm beech wood, + And lie down, and keep still; + And swear a little; and feel good; + Then loaf on up the hill, + + And let the Spring house-clean my brain, + Where all this stuff is crammed; + And let my heart grow sweet again; + And let the Age be damned. + + + + +WASTED OPPORTUNITIES[6] + +BY ROY FARRELL GREENE + + + The lips I might have tasted, rosy ripe as any cherry, + How they pair off by the dozens when my memory goes back + Across the current of the years aboard of Fancy's ferry, + Which shuns the shores of What-We-Have and touches What-We-Lack. + The girl I took t' singin'-school one night, who vowed she'd never + Before walked with a feller 'thout her mother bein' by, + I reckon that her temptin' mouth will haunt my dreams forever, + The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try! + + I recollect another girl, as chipper as a robin, + Who rode beside me in a sleigh one night through snow an' sleet, + An' both my hands I kept in use a guidin' good ol' Dobbin-- + One didn't need them any mor'n a chicken needs four feet. + Too scared was I to hold her in, or warm her cheeks with kisses,-- + I know, now, she expected it, for once I heard her sigh-- + To-day I'd like t' kick myself for these neglected blisses, + The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try. + + I never kissed Rebecca, she was sober as a Quaker, + I never kissed Alvira, though I took her home one night, + That city cousin of the Smiths, a Miss Myrtilla Baker, + Though scores of opportunities slipped by me, left an' right. + It makes me hate myself to-day when I on Fancy's ferry + Have crossed the current of the years to olden days gone by, + T' think of all the lips I've missed, ripe-red as topmost cherry, + The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try. + +[Footnote 6: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +THE WEDDIN' + +BY JENNIE BETTS HARTSWICK + + +Well, it's over, it's _all_ over--bein' the last to leave I know +_that_--and I declare, I'm that full of all the things we had to eat +that John and me won't want any supper for a good hour yet, so I just +ran in to tell you about it while it's on top of my mind. + +It's an everlastin' shame you had to miss it! One thing, though, you'll +get a trayful of the good things sent in to you, I shouldn't wonder. I +know there's loads left, for I happened to slip out to the kitchen for a +drink of water--I was that _dry_ after all those salty nuts, and I +didn't want to trouble 'em--and I saw just _heaps_ of things standin' +round. + +Most likely you'll get a good, large plate of cake, not just a pinchin' +little mite of a piece in a box. The boxes is real pretty, though, and +they did look real palatial all stacked up on a table by the front door +with a strange colored man, in white gloves like a pall-bearer, to hand +'em to you. + +How did I get two of 'em? Why, it just happened that way. You see, when +I was leavin' I missed my sun-shade and I laid my box down on the +hatrack-stand while I went upstairs to look for it. I went through all +the rooms, and just when I'd about given it up, why, there it was, right +in my hand all the time! Wasn't it foolish? And when I came downstairs I +found I'd clean forgot where I'd laid that box of cake. I hunted +_everywhere_, and then I just had to tell the man how 'twas, so he +handed me another one, and I was just walkin' out the front door when, +would you believe it! if there wasn't the _other_ one, just as innocent, +on the hatrack-stand where I had laid it. So now I have three of 'em, +countin' John's. + +I just can't seem to realize that Eleanor Jamison is married at last, +can you? She took her time if ever anybody did. They do say she was real +taken with that young college professor with the full beard and +spectacles that visited there last summer, and then to think that, after +all, she went and married a man with a smooth face. He wears glasses, +though; that's one point in common. + +Eleanor's gone off a good deal lately, don't you think so? You hadn't +noticed it? But then you never was any great hand at noticin', I've +noticed you weren't. Why, the other day when I was there offerin' to +help 'em get ready for the weddin' I noticed that she looked real +_worn_, and there was two or three little fine lines in her +eye-corners--not real _wrinkles_, of course--but we all know that lines +is a forerunner. Her hair's beginnin' to turn, too; I noticed that +comin' out of church last Sunday. I dare say her knowing this made her +less particular than she'd once have been; and after all, marryin' any +husband is a good deal like buyin' a new black silk dress pattern--an +awful risk. + +You may look at it on both sides and hold it up to the light, and pull +it to see if it'll fray and try if it'll spot, but you can't be sure +what it'll do till after you've worn it a spell. + +There's one advantage to the dress pattern, though--you can make 'em +take it back if you mistrust it won't wear--if you haven't cut into it, +that is--but when you've got a husband, why, you've _got_ him, to have +and to hold, for better and worse and good and all. + +Yes, I'm comin' to the weddin'--I declare, when I think how careless +Eleanor is about little things I can't help mistrusting what kind of a +housekeeper she'll turn out. Why, when John's and my invitation came it +was only printed to the church--there wasn't any reception card among +it. + +Now I've supplied Eleanor's folks with butter and eggs and spring +chickens for thirty years, and I'd just have gone anyway, for I knew it +was a mistake, but John held out that 'twasn't--that they didn't mean to +have us to the house part; so to settle it I went right over and told +'em. I told Eleanor she mustn't feel put out about it--we was all +mortal--and if it hadn't been for satisfyin' John I'd never have let her +know how careless she'd been--of course I'd made allowance, a weddin' +_is_ upsettin' to the intellect--and so 'twas all right. + +I had a real good view of the ceremony; but 'twasn't _their_ fault that +I had; it just happened that way. + +When John and me got there I asked the young man at the door--he was a +yusher and a stranger to me--to give us a front seat, but he said that +all the front places was reserved for the relations of the bride and +groom, and then I noticed that they'd tied off the middle aisle about +seven pews back with white satin ribbons and a big bunch of pink roses. +It seemed real impolite to invite folks to a weddin' and then take the +best seats themselves. + +Well, just then I happened to feel my shoelacin' gettin' loose and I +stepped to one side to fix it; and when I got up from stoopin' and my +gloves on and buttoned--I had to take 'em off to tie my shoe--and +straightened John's cravat for him, why, there was the families on both +sides just goin' in. + +Of course we had to follow right along behind 'em, and when we came up +to the ribbons--would you believe it?--the big bow just untied +itself--or seemed to--I heard afterward it was done by somebody pullin' +a invisible wire--and we all walked through and took seats. I made John +go into the pew ahead of me so's I could get out without disturbin' +anybody if I should have a headache or feel faint. + +When John found we was settin' with the family--he was right close up +against Eleanor's mother--he was for gettin' up and movin' back. But I +just whispered to him, "John Appleby, do sit still! I hear the bridal +party comin'!" + +Of course I didn't just _hear 'em_, but I was sure they'd be along in a +minute, and I knew it wouldn't do to move our seats anyway, as if we +weren't satisfied with 'em. + +The church was decorated beautiful. Eleanor's folks must have cleaned +out their green-house to put into it, besides _tons_ of greens from the +city. + +Pretty near the whole of Wrenville was there, and I must say the church +was a credit to the Wrenville dressmakers. + +I could pick out all their different fits without any trouble. + +There was Arabella Satterlee's--she shapes her backs like the top of a +coffin, or sometimes they remind me more of a kite; and Sallie Ann +Hodd's--she makes 'em square; and old Mrs. Tucker's--you can always tell +hers by the way the armholes draw; she makes the minister's wife's. But +they'd every one of 'em done their level best and I was proud of 'em. + +Well, when the organ--it had been playin' low and soft all the +time--changed off into the weddin' march and the bridesmaids, eight of +'em, marched up the aisle behind the eight yushers, I tell you, Miss +Halliday, it was a _sight_! + +They was all in pink gauzy stuff--I happened to feel one of 'em as she +went by but I couldn't tell what 'twas made of; it seemed dreadful +_flimsy_--and big flat hats all made of roses on their heads, and +carryin' bunches pf long-stemmed roses so big that they had to hold 'em +in their arms like young babes. + +Eleanor came behind 'em all, walkin' with her father. He always was a +small-built man, and with her long trail and her veil spreadin' out so, +why, I declare, you couldn't hardly see him. + +I whispered to John that they looked more as if Eleanor was goin' to +give her pa away than him her. + +Eleanor's dress was elegant, only awful _plain_. It was made in New York +at Greenleaf's. I know, because when I was upstairs lookin' for my +sunshade--I told you about that, didn't I?--I happened to get into +Eleanor's room by mistake, and there was the box it came in right on the +bed before my eyes. + +Well, when they was all past, I kept lookin' round me for the groom and +wonderin' how I had come to miss him, when all at once John nudged me, +and there he was right in front of me and the minister beginnin' to +marry 'em, and where he had sprung from I can't tell you this livin' +minute! + +Came in from the vestry, did he? Well, now, I never would have thought +of that! + +Well, when they was most married the most ridiculous thing happened. + +You see, Eleanor's father in steppin' back after givin' her away had put +his foot right down on her trail and never noticed, and when it came +time for the prayer Eleanor pulled and pulled--they was to kneel down on +two big white satin cushions in front of 'em--but her pa never +budged--just stood there with his eyes shut and his head bowed as +devout as anything--and before Eleanor could stop him, her husband--he +was most her husband, anyway--had kneeled right down on to the cushion, +with his eyes shut, too, I suppose, and the minister had to pray over +'em that way. I could see Eleanor's shoulders shakin' under her veil, +and of course it _was_ ridiculous if it hadn't been so solemn. + +And then they all marched down the aisle, with the bride and groom +leadin' the procession. Eleanor's veil was put back, and I noticed that +she was half-laughin' yet, and her cheeks were real pink, and her eyes +sort of bright and moist--she looked real handsome. Good gracious, Miss +Halliday, don't ever tell me that's six o'clock! And I haven't told a +thing about the presents, and who was there, and Eleanor's clothes, and +what they had to eat--why, they didn't even use their own china-ware! +They had a colored caterer from New York, and he brought everything--all +the dishes and table-cloths and spoons and forks, besides the +refreshments. I know, because just after he came I happened to carry +over my eleven best forks--John broke the dozenth tryin' to pry the cork +out of a bottle of raspberry vinegar the year we was married--I never +take a fork to pry with--and offered to loan 'em for the weddin', but +they didn't need 'em, so I just stayed a minute or two in the butler's +pantry and then went home--but I saw the caterer unpackin'. + +There! I knew I'd stay too long! There's John comin' in the gate after +me. I must go this blessed minute. + + + + +THE THOMPSON STREET POKER CLUB + +SOME CURIOUS POINTS IN THE NOBLE GAME UNFOLDED + +BY HENRY GUY CARLETON + + +When Mr. Tooter Williams entered the gilded halls of the Thompson Street +Poker Club Saturday evening it was evident that fortune had smeared him +with prosperity. He wore a straw hat with a blue ribbon, an expression +of serene content, and a glass amethyst on his third finger whose +effulgence irradiated the whole room and made the envious eyes of Mr. +Cyanide Whiffles stand out like a crab's. Besides these extraordinary +furbishments, Mr. Williams had his mustache waxed to fine points and his +back hair was precious with the luster and richness which accompany the +use of the attar of Third Avenue roses combined with the bear's grease +dispensed by basement barbers on that fashionable thoroughfare. + +In sharp contrast to this scintillating entrance was the coming of the +Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith, who had been disheveled by the heat, +discolored by a dusty evangelical trip to Coney Island, and oppressed by +an attack of malaria which made his eyes bloodshot and enriched his +respiration with occasional hiccoughs and that steady aroma which is +said to dwell in Weehawken breweries. + +The game began at eight o'clock, and by nine and a series of two-pair +hands and bull luck Mr. Gus Johnson was seven dollars and a nickel ahead +of the game, and the Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith, who was banking, was +nine stacks of chips and a dollar bill on the wrong side of the ledger. +Mr. Cyanide Whiffles was cheerful as a cricket over four winnings +amounting to sixty-nine cents; Professor Brick was calm, and Mr. Tooter +Williams was gorgeous and hopeful, and laying low for the first jackpot, +which now came. It was Mr. Whiffles's deal, and feeling that the eyes of +the world were upon him, he passed around the cards with a precision and +rapidity which were more to his credit than the I.O.U. from Mr. Williams +which was left over from the previous meeting. + +Professor Brick had nine high and declared his inability to make an +opening. + +Mr. Williams noticed a dangerous light come into the Reverend Mr. +Smith's eye and hesitated a moment, but having two black jacks and a +pair of trays, opened with the limit. + +"I liffs yo' jess tree dollahs, Toot," said the Reverend Mr. Smith, +getting out the wallet and shaking out a wad. + +Mr. Gus Johnson, who had a four flush and very little prudence, came in. +Mr. Whiffles sighed and fled. + +Mr. Williams polished the amethyst, thoroughly examining a scratch on +one of its facets, adjusted his collar, skinned his cards, stealthily +glanced again at the expression of the Reverend Mr. Smith's eye, and +said he would "Jess--jess call." + +Mr. Whiffles supplied the wants of the gentleman from the pack with the +mechanical air of a man who had lost all hope in a hereafter. Mr. +Williams wanted one card, the Reverend Mr. Smith said he'd take about +three, and Mr. Gus Johnson expressed a desire for a club, if it was not +too much trouble. + +Mr. Williams caught another tray, and, being secretly pleased, led out +by betting a chip. The Reverend Mr. Smith uproariously slammed down a +stack of blue chips and raised him seven dollars. + +Mr. Gus Johnson had captured the nine of hearts and so retired. + +Mr. Williams had four chips and a dollar left. + +"I sees dat seven," he said impressively, "an' I humps it ten mo'." + +"Whar's de c'lateral?" queried the Reverend Mr. Smith calmly, but with +aggressiveness in his eye. + +Mr. Williams sniffed contemptuously, drew off the ring, and deposited it +in the pot with such an air as to impress Mr. Whiffles with the idea +that the jewel must have been worth at least four million dollars. Then +Mr. Williams leaned back in his chair and smiled. + +"Whad yer goin' ter do?" asked the Reverend Mr. Smith, deliberately +ignoring Mr. Williams's action. + +Mr. Williams pointed to the ring and smiled. + +"Liff yo' ten dollahs." + +"On whad?" + +"Dat ring." + +"_Dat_ ring?" + +"Yezzah." Mr. Williams was still cool. + +"Huh!" The Reverend Mr. Smith picked the ring up, examined it +scientifically with one eye closed, dropped it several times as if to +test its soundness, and then walked across and rasped it several times +heavily on the window pane. + +"Whad yo' doin' dat for?" excitedly asked Mr. Williams. + +A double rasp with the ring was the Reverend Mr. Smith's only reply. + +"Gimme dat jule back!" demanded Mr. Williams. + +The Reverend Mr. Smith was now vigorously rubbing the setting of the +stone on the floor. + +"Leggo dat sparkler," said Mr. Williams again. + +The Reverend Mr. Smith carefully polished off the scratches by rubbing +the ring a while on the sole of his foot. Then he resumed his seat and +put the precious thing back into the pot. Then he looked calmly at Mr. +Williams, and leaned back in his chair as if waiting for something. + +"Is yo' satisfied?" said Mr. Williams, in the tone used by men who have +sustained a deep injury. + +"Dis is pokah," said the Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith. + +"I rised yo' ten dollahs," said Mr. Williams, pointing to the ring. + +"Did yer ever saw three balls hangin' over my do'?" asked the Reverend +Mr. Smith. "Doesn't yo' know my name hain't Oppenheimer?" + +"Whad yo' mean?" asked Mr. Williams excitedly. + +"Pokah am pokah, and dar's no 'casion fer triflin' wif blue glass 'n +junk in dis yar club," said the Reverend Mr. Smith. + +"I liffs yo' ten dollahs," said Mr. Williams, ignoring the insult. + +"Pud up de c'lateral," said the Reverend Mr. Smith. "Fo' chips is fohty, +'n a dollah's a dollah fohty, 'n dat's a dollah fohty-fo' cents." + +"Whar's de fo' cents?" smiled Mr. Williams, desperately. + +The Reverend Mr. Smith pointed to the ring. Mr. Williams rose +indignantly, shucked off his coat, hat, vest, suspenders and scarfpin, +heaped them on the table, and then sat down and glared at the Reverend +Mr. Smith. + +Mr. Smith rolled up the coat, put on the hat, threw his own out of the +window, gave the ring to Mr. Whiffles, jammed the suspenders into his +pocket, and took in the vest, chips and money. + +"Dis yar's buglry!" yelled Mr. Williams. + +The Reverend Mr. Smith spread out four eights and rose impressively. + +"Toot," he said, "doan trifle wif Prov'dence. Because a man wars +ten-cent grease 'n' gits his july on de Bowery, hit's no sign dat he kin +buck agin cash in a jacker 'n' git a boodle from fo' eights. Yo's now in +yo' shirt sleeves 'n' low sperrets, bud de speeyunce am wallyble. I'se +willin' ter stan' a beer an' sassenger, 'n' shake 'n' call it squar'. De +club'll now 'journ." + + + + +THE BUMBLEBEAVER[7] + +BY KENYON COX + + + A cheerful and industrious beast, + He's always humming as he goes + To make mud-houses with his tail + Or gather honey with his nose. + + Although he flits from flower to flower + He's not at all a gay deceiver. + We might take lessons by the hour + From busy, buzzy Bumblebeaver. + +[Footnote 7: From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.] + + + + +AFTER THE FUNERAL + +BY JAMES M. BAILEY + + +It was just after the funeral. The bereaved and subdued widow, enveloped +in millinery gloom, was seated in the sitting-room with a few +sympathizing friends. There was that constrained look so peculiar to the +occasion observable on every countenance. The widow sighed. + +"How do you feel, my dear?" said her sister. + +"Oh! I don't know," said the poor woman, with difficulty restraining her +tears. "But I hope everything passed off well." + +"Indeed it did," said all the ladies. + +"It was as large and respectable a funeral as I have seen this winter," +said the sister, looking around upon the others. + +"Yes, it was," said the lady from next door. "I was saying to Mrs. +Slocum, only ten minutes ago, that the attendance couldn't have been +better--the bad going considered." + +"Did you see the Taylors?" asked the widow faintly, looking at her +sister. "They go so rarely to funerals that I was surprised to see them +here." + +"Oh, yes! the Taylors were all here," said the sympathizing sister. "As +you say, they go but a little: they are _so_ exclusive!" + +"I thought I saw the Curtises also," suggested the bereaved woman +droopingly. + +"Oh, yes!" chimed in several. "They came in their own carriage, too," +said the sister, animatedly. "And then there were the Randalls and the +Van Rensselaers. Mrs. Van Rensselaer had her cousin from the city with +her; and Mrs. Randall wore a very black heavy silk, which I am sure was +quite new. Did you see Colonel Haywood and his daughters, love?" + +"I thought I saw them; but I wasn't sure. They were here, then, were +they?" + +"Yes, indeed!" said they all again; and the lady who lived across the +way observed: + +"The Colonel was very sociable, and inquired most kindly about you, and +the sickness of your husband." + +The widow smiled faintly. She was gratified by the interest shown by the +Colonel. + +The friends now rose to go, each bidding her good-by, and expressing the +hope that she would be calm. Her sister bowed them out. When she +returned, she said: + +"You can see, my love, what the neighbors think of it. I wouldn't have +had anything unfortunate to happen for a good deal. But nothing did. The +arrangements couldn't have been better." + +"I think some of the people in the neighborhood must have been surprised +to see so many of the uptown people here," suggested the afflicted +woman, trying to look hopeful. + +"You may be quite sure of that," asserted the sister. "I could see that +plain enough by their looks." + +"Well, I am glad there is no occasion for talk," said the widow, +smoothing the skirt of her dress. + +And after that the boys took the chairs home, and the house was put in +order. + + + + +CASEY AT THE BAT + +BY ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER + + + It looked extremely rocky for the Mudville nine that day: + The score stood four to six with just an inning left to play; + And so, when Cooney died at first, and Burrows did the same, + A pallor wreathed the features of the patrons of the game. + + A straggling few got up to go, leaving there the rest + With that hope that springs eternal within the human breast; + For they thought if only Casey could get one whack, at that + They'd put up even money, with Casey at the bat. + + But Flynn preceded Casey, and so likewise did Blake, + But the former was a pudding, and the latter was a fake; + So on that stricken multitude a death-like silence sat, + For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat. + + But Flynn let drive a single to the wonderment of all, + And the much-despisèd Blaikie tore the cover off the ball; + And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what had occurred, + There was Blaikie safe on second and Flynn a-hugging third! + + Then from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell, + It bounded from the mountain-top, and rattled in the dell, + It struck upon the hillside, and rebounded on the flat; + For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat. + + There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place, + There was pride in Casey's bearing, and a smile on Casey's face; + And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, + No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat. + + Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt, + Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt; + Then, while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, + Defiance glanced in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip. + + And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, + And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there; + Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped: + "That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said. + + From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, + Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore; + "Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted some one in the stand. + And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand. + + With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone; + He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on; + He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew, + But Casey still ignored it; and the umpire said, "Strike two." + + "Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered, "Fraud!" + But the scornful look from Casey, and the audience was awed; + They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, + And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again. + + The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched with hate; + He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate; + And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, + And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow. + + Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright, + The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, + And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; + But there is no joy in Mudville--mighty Casey has struck out. + + + + +THE MARTYRDOM OF MR. STEVENS[8] + +BY HERBERT QUICK + +_Pietro:_ Th' offense, it seemeth me, +Is one that by mercy's extremest stretch +Might be o'erpassed. + +_Cosimo:_ Never, Pietro, never! +The Brotherhood's honor untouchable +Is touch'd thereby. We build our labyrinth +Of sacred words and potent spells, and all +The deep-involved horrors of our craft-- +Its entrance hedg'd about with dreadful oaths, +And every step in thridding it made dank +By dripping terror and out-seeping awe, +Shall it be said that e'en Ludovico +May break our faith and live? Never, say I! + +--_Vision of Cosimo._ + + +The Bellevale lodge of the Ancient Order of Christian Martyrs held its +meetings in the upper story of a tall building. Mr. Alvord called for +Amidon at eight, and took him up, all his boldness in the world of +business replaced by wariness in the atmosphere of mystery. As he and +his companion went into an anteroom and were given broad collars from +which were suspended metal badges called "jewels," he felt a good deal +like a spy. They walked into the lodge-room where twenty-five or thirty +men with similar "jewels" sat smoking and chatting. All seemed to know +him, but (much to his relief) before he could be included in the +conversation, the gavel fell; certain ones with more elaborate "jewels" +and more ornate collars than the rest took higher-backed and more highly +upholstered chairs at the four sides of the room, another stood at the +door; and still another, in complete uniform, with sword and belt, began +hustling the members to seats. + +"The Deacon Militant," said the wielder of the gavel, "will report if +all present are known and tested members of our Dread and Mystic +Conclave." + +"All, Most Sovereign Pontiff," responded the Deacon Militant, who proved +to be the man in the uniform, "save certain strangers who appear within +the confines of our sacred basilica." + +"Let them be tested," commanded the Sovereign Pontiff, "and, if +brethren, welcomed; if spies, executed!" + +Amidon started, and looked about for aid or avenue of escape. Seeing +none, he warily watched the Deacon Militant. That officer, walking in +the military fashion which, as patristic literature teaches, was adopted +by the early Christians, and turning square corners, as was the habit of +St. Paul and the Apostles, received whispered passwords from the two or +three strangers, and, with a military salute, announced that all present +had been put to the test and welcomed. Then, for the first time +remembering that he was not among the strangers, so far as known to the +lodge, Amidon breathed freely, and rather regretted the absence of +executions. + +"Bring forth the Mystic Symbols of the Order!" was the next command. The +Mystic Symbols were placed on a stand in the middle of the room, and +turned out to be a gilt fish about the size of a four-pound bass, a jar +of human bones, and a rolled-up scroll said to contain the Gospels. The +fish, as explained by the Deacon Militant, typified a great many things +connected with early Christianity, and served always as a reminder of +the password of the order. The relics in the jar were the bones of +martyrs. The scroll was the Book of the Law. Amidon was becoming +impressed: the solemn and ornate ritual and the dreadful symbols sent +shivers down his inexperienced and unfraternal spine. Breaking in with +uninitiated eyes, as he had done, now seemed more and more a crime. + +There was an "Opening Ode," which was so badly sung as to mitigate the +awe; and an "order of business" solemnly gone through. Under the head +"Good of the Order" the visiting brethren spoke as if it were a +class-meeting and they giving "testimony," one of them very volubly +reminding the assembly of the great principles of the order, and the +mighty work it had already accomplished in ameliorating the condition of +a lost and wandering world. Amidon felt that he must have been very +blind in failing to note this work until it was thus forced on his +notice; but he made a mental apology. + +"By the way, Brassfield," said Mr. Slater during a recess preceding the +initiation of candidates, "you want to give Stevens the best you've got +in the Catacombs scene. Will you make it just straight ritual, or throw +in some of those specialities of yours?" + +"Stevens! Catacombs!" gasped Amidon, "specialties! I--" + +"I wish you could have been here when I was put through," went on Mr. +Slater. "I don't see how any one but a professional actor, or a person +with your dramatic gifts, can do that part at all--it's so sort of +ripping and--and intense, you know. I look forward to your rendition of +it with a good deal of pleasurable anticipation." + +"You don't expect me to do it, do you?" asked Amidon. + +"Why, who else?" was the counter-question. "We can't be expected to play +on the bench the best man in Pennsylvania in that part, can we?" + +"Come, Brassfield," said the Sovereign Pontiff, "get on your regalia for +the Catacombs. We are about to begin." + +"Oh, say, now!" said Amidon, trying to be off-hand about it, "you must +get somebody else." + +"What's that! Some one else? Very likely we shall! Very likely!" thus +the Sovereign Pontiff with fine scorn. "Come, the regalia, and no +nonsense!" + +"I--I may be called out at any moment," urged Amidon, amidst an outcry +that seemed to indicate a breach with the Martyrs then and there. "There +are reasons why--" + +Edgington took him aside. "Is there any truth in this story," said he, +"that you have had some trouble with Stevens, and discharged him?" + +"Oh, that Stevens!" gasped Amidon, as if the whole discussion had hinged +on picking out the right one among an army of Stevenses. "Yes, it's +true, and I can't help confer this--" + +Edgington whispered to the Sovereign Pontiff; and the announcement was +made that in the Catacombs scene Brother Brassfield would be excused and +Brother Bulliwinkle substituted. + +"I know I never, in any plane of consciousness, saw any of this, or knew +any of these things," thought Florian. "It is incredible!" + +Conviction, however, was forced on him by the fact that he was now made +to don a black domino and mask, and to march, carrying a tin-headed +spear, with a file of similar figures to examine the candidate, who +turned out to be the discharged Stevens, sitting in an anteroom, +foolish and apprehensive, and looking withal much as he had done in +the counting-room. He was now asked by the leader of the file, in a +sepulchral tone, several formal questions, among others whether he +believed in a Supreme Being. Stevens gulped, and said "Yes." He was then +asked if he was prepared to endure any ordeal to which he might be +subjected, and warned unless he possessed nerves of steel, he had better +turn back--for which measure there was yet time. Stevens, in a faint +voice, indicated that he was ready for the worst, and desired to go on. +Then all (except Amidon) in awesome accents intoned, "Be brave and +obedient, and all may yet be well!" and they passed back into the +lodge-room. Amidon was now thoroughly impressed, and wondered whether +Stevens would be able to endure the terrible trials hinted at. + +Clad in a white robe, "typifying innocence," and marching to minor music +played upon a piano, Stevens was escorted several times around the +darkened room, stopping from time to time at the station of some +officer, to receive highly improving lectures. Every time he was asked +if he were willing to do anything, or believed anything, he said "Yes." +Finally, with the Scroll of the Law in one hand, and with the other +resting on the Bones of Martyrs, surrounded by the brethren, whose drawn +swords and leveled spears threatened death, he repeated an obligation +which bound him not to do a great many things, and to keep the secrets +of the order. To Amidon it seemed really awful--albeit somewhat florid +in style; and when Alvord nudged him at one passage in the obligation, +he resented it as an irreverence. Then he noted that it was a pledge to +maintain the sanctity of the family circle of brother Martyrs, and +Alvord's reference of the night before to the obligation as affecting +his association with the "strawberry blonde" took on new and fearful +meaning. + +Stevens seemed to be vibrating between fright and a tendency to laugh, +as the voice of some well-known fellow citizen rumbled out from behind a +deadly weapon. He was marched out, to the same minor music, and the +first act was ended. + +The really esoteric part of it, Amidon felt, was to come, as he could +see no reason for making a secret of these very solemn and edifying +matters. Stevens felt very much the same way about it, and was full of +expectancy when informed that the next degree would test his obedience. +He highly resolved to obey to the letter. + +The next act disclosed Stevens hoodwinked, and the room light. He was +informed that he was in the Catacombs, familiar to the early Christians, +and must make his way alone and in darkness, following the Clue of Faith +which was placed in his hands. This Clue was a white cord similar to the +sort used by masons (in the building-trades). He groped his way along by +it to the station of the next officer, who warned him of the deadly +consequences of disobedience. Thence he made his way onward, holding to +the Clue of Faith--until he touched a trigger of some sort, which let +down upon him an avalanche of tinware and such light and noisy articles, +which frightened him so that he started to run, and was dexteriously +tripped by the Deacon Militant and a spearman, and caught in a net held +by two others. A titter ran about the room. + +"Obey," thundered the Vice-Pontiff, "and all will be well!" + +Stevens resumed the Clue. At the station of the next officer to whom it +brought him, the nature of faith was explained to him, and he was given +the password, "Ichthus," whispered so that all in that part of the room +could hear the interdicted syllables. But he was adjured never, never to +utter it, unless to the Guardian of the Portal on entering the lodge, to +the Deacon Militant on the opening thereof, or to a member, when he, +Stevens, should become Sovereign Pontiff. Then he was faced toward the +Vice-Pontiff, and told to answer loudly and distinctly the questions +asked him. + +"What is the lesson inculcated in this Degree?" asked the Vice-Pontiff +from the other end of the room. + +"Obedience!" shouted Stevens in reply. + +"What is the password of this Degree?" + +"Ichthus!" responded Stevens. + +A roll of stage-thunder sounded deafeningly over his head. The piano was +swept by a storm of bass passion; and deep cries of "Treason! Treason!" +echoed from every side. Poor Stevens tottered, and fell into a chair +placed by the Deacon Militant. He saw the enormity of the deed of shame +he had committed. He had told the password! + +"You have all heard this treason," said the Sovereign Pontiff, in the +deepest of chest-tones--"a treason unknown in all the centuries of the +past! What is the will of the conclave?" + +"I would imprecate on the traitor's head," said a voice from one of the +high-backed chairs, "the ancient doom of the Law!" + +"Doom, doom!" said all in unison, holding the "oo" in a most +blood-curdling way. "Pronounce doom!" + +"One fate, and one alone," pronounced the Sovereign Pontiff, "can be +yours. Brethren, let him forthwith be encased in the Chest of the +Clanking Chains, and hurled from the Tarpeian Rock, to be dashed in +fragments at its stony base!" + +Amidon's horror was modified by the evidences of repressed glee with +which this sentence was received. Yet he felt a good deal of concern as +they brought out a great chest, threw the struggling Stevens into it, +slammed down the ponderous lid and locked it. Stevens kicked at the lid, +but said nothing. The members leaped with joy. A great chain was brought +and wrapped clankingly about the chest. + +"Let me out," now yelled the Christian Martyr. "Let me out, damn you!" + +"Doom, do-o-o-oom!" roared the voices; and said the Sovereign Pontiff in +impressive tones, "Proceed with the execution!" + +Now the chest was slung up to a hook in the ceiling, and gradually drawn +back by a pulley until it was far above the heads of the men, the chains +meanwhile clanking continually against the receptacle, from which came +forth a stream of smothered profanity. + +"Hurl him down to the traitor's death!" shouted the Sovereign Pontiff. +The chest was loosed, and swung like a pendulum lengthwise of the room, +down almost to the floor and up nearly to the ceiling. The profanity now +turned into a yell of terror. The Martyrs slapped one another's backs +and grew blue in the face with laughter. At a signal, a light box was +placed where the chest would crush it (which it did with a sound like a +small railway collision); the chest was stopped and the lid raised. + +"Let the body receive Christian burial," said the Sovereign Pontiff. +"Our vengeance ceases with death." + +This truly Christian sentiment was received with universal approval. +Death seemed to all a good place at which to stop. + +"Brethren," said the Deacon Militant, as he struggled with the resurgent +Stevens, "there seems some life here! Methinks the heart beats, and--" + +The remainder of the passage from the ritual was lost to Amidon by +reason of the fact that Stevens had placed one foot against the Deacon's +stomach and hurled that august officer violently to the floor. + +"Let every test of life be applied," said the Sovereign Pontiff. +"Perchance some higher will than ours decrees his preservation. Take the +body hence for a time; if possible, restore him to life, and we will +consider his fate." + +The recess which followed was clearly necessary to afford an opportunity +for the calming of the risibilities of the Martyrs. The stage, too, had +to be reset. Amidon's ethnological studies had not equaled his reading +in _belles-lettres_, and he was unable to see the deep significance of +these rites from an historical standpoint, and that here was a survival +of those orgies to which our painted and skin-clad ancestors devoted +themselves in spasms of religious frenzy, gazed at by the cave-bear and +the mammoth. The uninstructed Amidon regarded them as inconceivable +horse-play. While thus he mused, Stevens, who was still hoodwinked and +being greatly belectured on the virtue of Faith and the duty of +Obedience, reëntered on his ordeal. + +He was now informed by the officer at the other end of the room that +every man must ascend into the Mountains of Temptation and be tested, +before he could be pronounced fit for companionship with Martyrs. +Therefore, a weary climb heavenward was before him, and a great trial of +his fidelity. On his patience, daring and fortitude depended all his +future in the Order. He was marched to a ladder and bidden to ascend. + +"I," said the Deacon Militant, "upon this companion stair will accompany +you." + +But there was no other ladder and the Deacon Militant had to stand upon +a chair. + +Up the ladder labored Stevens, but, though he climbed manfully, he +remained less than a foot above the floor. The ladder went down like a +treadmill, as Stevens climbed--it was an endless ladder rolled down on +Stevens' side and up on the other. The Deacon Militant, from his perch +on the chair, encouraged Stevens to climb faster so as not to be +outstripped. With labored breath and straining muscles he climbed, the +Martyrs rolling on the floor in merriment all the more violent because +silent. Amidon himself laughed to see this strenuous climb, so +strikingly like human endeavor, which puts the climber out of breath, +and raises him not a whit--except in temperature. At the end of perhaps +five minutes, when Stevens might well have believed himself a hundred +feet above the roof, he had achieved a dizzy height of perhaps six feet, +on the summit of a stage-property mountain, where he stood beside the +Deacon Militant, his view of the surrounding plain cut off by +papier-mâché clouds, and facing a foul fiend, to whom the Deacon +Militant confided that here was a candidate to be tested and qualified. +Whereupon the foul fiend remarked "Ha, ha!" and bade them bind him to +the Plutonian Thunderbolt and hurl him down to the nether world. The +thunderbolt was a sort of toboggan on rollers, for which there was a +slide running down presumably to the nether world, above mentioned. + +The hoodwink was removed, and Stevens looked about him, treading warily, +like one on the top of a tower; the great height of the mountain made +him giddy. Obediently he lay face downward on the thunderbolt, and +yielded up his wrists and ankles to fastenings provided for them. + +"They're not going to lower him with those cords, are they?" + +It was a stage-whisper from the darkness which spake thus. + +"Oh, I guess it's safe enough!" said another, in the same sort of +agitated whisper. + +"Safe!" was the reply. "I tell you, it's sure to break! Some one stop +'em--" + +To the heart of the martyred Stevens these words struck panic. But as he +opened his mouth to protest, the catastrophe occurred. There was a snap, +and the toboggan shot downward. Bound as he was, the victim could see +below him a brick wall right across the path of his descent. He was +helpless to move; it was useless to cry out. For all that, as he felt in +imagination the crushing shock of his head driven like a battering-ram +against this wall, he uttered a roar such as from Achilles might have +roused armed nations to battle. And even as he did so, his head touched +the wall, there was a crash, and Stevens lay safe on a mattress after +his ten-foot slide, surrounded by fragments of red-and-white paper which +had lately been a wall. He was pale and agitated, and generally done +for; but tremendously relieved when he had assured himself of the +integrity of his cranium. This he did by repeatedly feeling of his head, +and looking at his fingers for sanguinary results. As Amidon looked at +him, he repented of what he had done to this thoroughly maltreated +fellow man. After the Catacombs scene, which was supposed to be +impressive, and some more of the "secret" work, everybody crowded about +Stevens, now invested with the collar and "jewel" of Martyrhood, and +laughed, and congratulated him as on some great achievement, while he +looked half-pleased and half-bored. Amidon, with the rest, greeted him, +and told him that after his vacation was over, he hoped to see him back +at the office. + +"That was a fine exemplification of the principles of the Order," said +Alvord as they went home. + +"What was?" said Amidon. + +"Hiring old Stevens back," answered Alvord. "You've got to live your +principles, or they don't amount to much." + +"Suppose some fellow should get into a lodge," asked Amidon, "who had +never been initiated?" + +"Well," said Alvord, "there isn't much chance of that. I shouldn't dare +to say. You can't tell what the fellows would do when such sacred things +were profaned, you know. You couldn't tell what they might do!" + +[Footnote 8: From _Double Trouble_. It should be explained that Mr. +Amidon is suffering from dual consciousness and in his other state is +known as Eugene Brassfield. As the supposed Brassfield he has gone, +while in his Amidon state of consciousness, to a meeting of the lodge to +which as Brassfield he belongs.] + + + + +THE WILD BOARDER[9] + +BY KENYON COX + + + His figure's not noted for grace; + You may not much care for his face; + But a twenty-yard dash, + When he hears the word "hash," + He can take at a wonderful pace. + +[Footnote 9: From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.] + + + + +DE GRADUAL COMMENCE + +BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY + + + Oui, Oui, M'sieu, I'm mos' happee, + My ches' wid proud expan', + I feel de bes' I evere feel, + An' over all dis lan' + Dere's none set op so moch as me; + You'll know w'en I am say + My leddle daughter Madeline + Is gradual to-day. + + She is de ver' mos' smartes' gairl + Dat I am evere know, + I'm fin' dis out, de teacher, he + Is tol' me dat is so; + She is so smart dat she say t'ings + I am no understan', + She is know more dan any one + Dat leeve on ol' Ste. Anne. + + De Gradual Commence is hol' + Down at de gr'ad beeg hall, + W'ere plaintee peopl' can gat seat + For dem to see it all. + De School Board wid dere presi_dent_, + Dey sit opon front row, + Dey look so stiff an' dignify, + For w'at I am not know. + + De classe dat mak' de "gradual" + Dey're on de stage, you see, + In semi-cirque dat face de peop', + Some scare as dey can be; + Den wan of dem dey all mak' spe'k, + Affer de nodder's t'roo, + Dis tak' dem 'bout t'ree hour an' half + De hull t'ing for to do. + + Ma Madeline she is all feex op, + Mos' beautiful to see, + In nice w'ite drass, my wife he buy + Overe to Kankakee. + An' when she rise to mak' de spe'k + How smart she look on face, + Dey all expec' somet'ing dey hear, + Dere's hush fall on de place. + + She tell us how to mak' de leeve, + How raise beeg familee; + She tell it all so smood an' plain + Dat you can't help but see; + An' how she learn her all of dat + Ees more dan I can say, + But she is know it, for she talk + In smartes' kind of way. + + W'en all is t'roo de presi_dent_ + De sheepskin he geeve 'way; + Dey're all nice print opon dem, + An' dis is w'at dey say: + "To dem dat is concern' wid dese + Pres_ents_ you onderstan' + De h'owner dese; is gradual + At High School on Ste. Anne." + + An' now dat she is gradual + She ees know all about + De world an' how to mak' it run + From inside to de out; + For dis is one de primere t'ings + W'at she is learn, you see, + Dat long beeg word I can pronounce, + It's call philosophee. + + An' you can' blame me if I am + Ver' proud an' puff op so, + To hav' a daughter like dis wan + Dat's everyt'ing she know. + No wonder dat I gat beeg head, + My hat's too small, dey say-- + Ma leddle daughter Madeline + Is gradual to-day. + + + + +ABOU BEN BUTLER + +BY JOHN PAUL + + + Abou, Ben Butler (may his tribe be less!) + Awoke one night from a deep bottledness, + And saw, by the rich radiance of the moon, + Which shone and shimmered like a silver spoon, + A stranger writing on a golden slate + (Exceeding store had Ben of spoons and plate), + And to the stranger in his tent he said: + "Your little game?" The stranger turned his head, + And, with a look made all of innocence, + Replied: "I write the name of Presidents." + "And is mine one?" "Not if this court doth know + Itself," replied the stranger. Ben said, "Oh!" + And "Ah!" but spoke again: "Just name your price + To write me up as one that may be Vice." + + The stranger up and vanished. The next night + He came again, and showed a wondrous sight + Of names that haply yet might fill the chair-- + But, lo! the name of Butler was not there! + + + + +LATTER-DAY WARNINGS + +BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES + + + When legislators keep the law, + When banks dispense with bolts and locks,-- + When berries--whortle, rasp, and straw-- + Grow bigger _downwards_ through the box,-- + + When he that selleth house or land + Shows leak in roof or flaw in right,-- + When haberdashers choose the stand + Whose window hath the broadest light,-- + + When preachers tell us all they think, + And party leaders all they mean,-- + When what we pay for, that we drink, + From real grape and coffee-bean,-- + + When lawyers take what they would give, + And doctors give what they would take,-- + When city fathers eat to live, + Save when they fast for conscience' sake,-- + + When one that hath a horse on sale + Shall bring his merit to the proof, + Without a lie for every nail + That holds the iron on the hoof,-- + + When in the usual place for rips + Our gloves are stitched with special care, + And guarded well the whalebone tips + Where first umbrellas need repair,-- + + When Cuba's weeds have quite forgot + The power of suction to resist, + And claret-bottles harbor not + Such dimples as would hold your fist,-- + + When publishers no longer steal, + And pay for what they stole before,-- + When the first locomotive's wheel + Rolls through the Hoosac tunnel's bore;-- + + _Till_ then let Cumming blaze away, + And Miller's saints blow up the globe; + But when you see that blessed day, + _Then_ order your ascension robe! + + + + +IT PAYS TO BE HAPPY[10] + +BY TOM MASSON + + + She is so gay, so very gay, + And not by fits and starts, + But ever, through each livelong day + She's sunshine to all hearts. + + A tonic is her merry laugh! + So wondrous is her power + That listening grief would stop and chaff + With her from hour to hour. + + Disease before that cheery smile + Grows dim, begins to fade. + A Christian scientist, meanwhile, + Is this delightful maid. + + And who would not throw off dull care + And be like unto her, + When happiness brings, as her share, + One hundred dollars per ----? + +[Footnote 10: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +JAMES AND REGINALD + +BY EUGENE FIELD + + +Once upon a Time there was a Bad boy whose Name was Reginald and there +was a Good boy whose Name was James. Reginald would go Fishing when his +Mamma told him Not to, and he Cut off the Cat's Tail with the Bread +Knife one Day, and then told Mamma the Baby had Driven it in with the +Rolling Pin, which was a Lie. James was always Obedient, and when his +Mamma told him not to Help an old Blind Man across the street or Go into +a Dark Room where the Boogies were, he always Did What She said. That is +why they Called him Good James. Well, by and by, along Came Christmas. +Mamma said, You have been so Bad, my son Reginald, you will not Get any +Presents from Santa Claus this Year; but you, my son James, will get +Oodles of Presents, because you have Been Good. Will you Believe it, +Children, that Bad boy Reginald said he didn't Care a Darn and he Kicked +three Feet of Veneering off the Piano just for Meanness. Poor James was +so sorry for Reginald that he cried for Half an Hour after he Went to +Bed that Night. Reginald lay wide Awake until he saw James was Asleep +and then he Said if these people think they can Fool me, they are +Mistaken. Just then Santa Claus came down the Chimney. He had Lots of +Pretty Toys in a Sack on his Back. Reginald shut his Eyes and Pretended +to be Asleep. Then Santa Claus Said, Reginald is Bad and I will not Put +any nice Things in his Stocking. But as for you, James, I will Fill +your Stocking Plum full of Toys, because You are Good. So Santa Claus +went to Work and Put, Oh! heaps and Heaps of Goodies in James' stocking, +but not a Sign of a Thing in Reginald's stocking. And then he Laughed to +himself and Said I guess Reginald will be Sorry to-morrow because he Was +so Bad. As he said this he Crawled up the chimney and rode off in his +Sleigh. Now you can Bet your Boots Reginald was no Spring Chicken. He +just Got right Straight out of Bed and changed all those Toys and Truck +from James' stocking into his own. Santa Claus will Have to Sit up all +Night, said He, when he Expects to get away with my Baggage. The next +morning James got out of Bed and when He had Said his Prayers he Limped +over to his Stocking, licking his chops and Carrying his Head as High as +a Bull going through a Brush Fence. But when he found there was Nothing +in his stocking and that Reginald's Stocking was as Full as Papa Is when +he comes home Late from the Office, he Sat down on the Floor and began +to Wonder why on Earth he had Been such a Good boy. Reginald spent a +Happy Christmas and James was very Miserable. After all, Children, it +Pays to be Bad, so Long as you Combine Intellect with Crime. + + + + +BANTY TIM + +REMARKS OF SERGEANT TILMON JOY TO THE WHITE MAN'S COMMITTEE OF SPUNKY +POINT, ILLINOIS + +BY JOHN HAY + + + I reckon I git your drift, gents,-- + You 'low the boy sha'n't stay; + This is a white man's country; + You're Dimocrats, you say; + And whereas, and seein', and wherefore, + The times bein' all out o' j'int, + The nigger has got to mosey + From the limits o' Spunky P'int! + + Le's reason the thing a minute: + I'm an old-fashioned Dimocrat too, + Though I laid my politics out o' the way + For to keep till the war was through. + But I come back here, allowin' + To vote as I used to do, + Though it gravels me like the devil to train + Along o' sich fools as you. + + Now dog my cats ef I kin see, + In all the light of the day, + What you've got to do with the question + Ef Tim shill go or stay. + And furder than that I give notice, + Ef one of you tetches the boy, + He kin check his trunks to a warmer clime + Than he'll find in Illanoy. + + Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me! + You know that ungodly day + When our left struck Vicksburg Heights, how ripped + And torn and tattered we lay. + When the rest retreated I stayed behind, + Fur reasons sufficient _to_ me,-- + With a rib caved in, and a leg on a strike, + I sprawled on that cursed glacee. + + Lord! how the hot sun went for us, + And br'iled and blistered and burned! + How the Rebel bullets whizzed round us + When a cuss in his death-grip turned! + Till along toward dusk I seen a thing + I couldn't believe for a spell: + That nigger--that Tim--was a crawlin' to me + Through that fire-proof, gilt-edged hell! + + The Rebels seen him as quick as me, + And the bullets buzzed like bees; + But he jumped for me, and shouldered me, + Though a shot brought him once to his knees; + But he staggered up, and packed me off, + With a dozen stumbles and falls, + Till safe in our lines he drapped us both, + His black hide riddled with balls. + + So, my gentle gazelles, thar's my answer, + And here stays Banty Tim: + He trumped Death's ace for me that day, + And I'm not goin' back on him! + You may rezoloot till the cows come home, + But ef one of you tetches the boy, + He'll wrastle his hash to-night in hell, + Or my name's not Tilmon Joy! + + + + +EVENING + +_By A Tailor_ + +BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES + + + Day hath put on his jacket, and around + His burning bosom buttoned it with stars. + Here will I lay me on the velvet grass, + That is like padding to earth's meager ribs, + And hold communion with the things about me. + Ah me! how lovely is the golden braid + That binds the skirt of night's descending robe! + The thin leaves, quivering on their silken threads, + Do make a music like to rustling satin, + As the light breezes smooth their downy nap. + + Ha! what is this that rises to my touch, + So like a cushion? Can it be a cabbage? + It is, it is that deeply injured flower, + Which boys do flout us with;--but yet I love thee, + Thou giant rose, wrapped in a green surtout. + Doubtless in Eden thou didst blush as bright + As these, thy puny brethren; and thy breath + Sweetened the fragrance of her spicy air; + But now thou seemest like a bankrupt beau, + Stripped of his gaudy hues and essences, + And growing portly in his sober garments. + + Is that a swan that rides upon the water? + O no, it is that other gentle bird, + Which is the patron of our noble calling. + I well remember, in my early years, + When these young hands first closed upon a goose; + I have a scar upon my thimble finger, + Which chronicles the hour of young ambition. + My father was a tailor, and his father, + And my sire's grandsire, all of them were tailors; + They had an ancient goose,--it was an heirloom + From some remoter tailor of our race. + It happened I did see it on a time + When none was near, and I did deal with it, + And it did burn me,--O, most fearfully! + + It is a joy to straighten out one's limbs, + And leap elastic from the level counter, + Leaving the petty grievances of earth, + The breaking thread, the din of clashing shears, + And all the needles that do wound the spirit, + For such a pensive hour of soothing silence. + Kind Nature, shuffling in her loose undress, + Lays bare her shady bosom;--I can feel + With all around me;--I can hail the flowers + That sprig earth's mantle,--and yon quiet bird, + That rides the stream, is to me as a brother. + The vulgar know not all the hidden pockets, + Where Nature stows away her loveliness. + But this unnatural posture of the legs + Cramps my extended calves, and I must go + Where I can coil them in their wonted fashion. + + + + +THE OLD SETTLER + +_His Reasons for Thinking there is Natural Gas in Deep Rock Gulley_ + +BY ED. MOTT + + +"I see by the papers, Squire," said the Old Settler, "that they're +a-finding signs o' coal ile an' nat'ral gas like sixty here an' thar in +deestric's not so terrible fur from here, an' th't konsekently land they +usety beg folks to come an' take offen their hands at any price at all +is wuth a dollar now, jist for a peep over the stun wall at it. The +minute a feller finds signs o' ile or nat'ral gas on his plantation he +needn't lug home his supplies in a quart jug no more, but kin roll 'em +in by the bar'l, fer signs o' them kind is wuth more an inch th'n a +sartin-per-sure grass an' 'tater farm is wuth an acre." + +"Guess yer huggin' the truth pooty clus fer wunst, Major," replied the +Squire, "but th' hain't none o' them signs ez likely to strike anywhar +in our bailiwick ez lightnin' is to kill a crow roostin' on the North +Pole. Thuz one thing I've alluz wanted to see," continued the Squire, +"but natur' has ben agin me an' I hain't never seen it, an' that thing +is the h'istin' of a balloon. Th' can't be no balloons h'isted nowhar, +I'm told, 'nless thuz gas to h'ist it with. I s'pose if we'd ha' had gas +here, a good many fellers with balloons 'd ha' kim 'round this way an' +showed us a balloon raisin' ev'ry now an' then. Them must be lucky +deestric's that's got gas, an' I'd like to hev somebody strike it 'round +here some'rs, jist fer the sake o' havin' the chance to see a balloon +h'istin' 'fore I turn my toes up. But that's 'bout ez liable to happen +ez it is fer to go out an' find a silver dollar rollin' up hill an' my +name gouged in it." + +"Don't ye be so consarned sure o' that, Squire," said the Old Settler +mysteriously, and with a knowing shake of his head. "I've been +a-thinkin' a leetle sence readin' 'bout them signs o' gas, b'gosh! I +hain't been only thinkin', but I've been a-recollectin', an' the chances +is th't me an' you'll see wonders yet afore we paddle over Jurdan. I'm +a-gointer tell ye fer w'y, but I hadn't orter, Squire, an' if it wa'n't +fer makin' ye 'shamed o' yerself, an' showin' th't truth squashed in the +mud is bound to git up agin if ye give her time, I wouldn't do it. Ye +mowt remember th't jist ten years ago this month I kim in from a leetle +b'ar hunt. I didn't bring in no b'ar, but I fotched back an up-an'-up +account o' how I had shot one, on' how th' were sumpin' fearful an' +queer an' amazin' in the p'formances o' that b'ar arter bein' shot. +Mebby ye 'member me a-tellin' ye that story, Squire, an' you a-tellin' +me right in my teeth th't ye know'd th't some o' yer friends had took to +lyin', but th't ye didn't think any of 'em had it so bad ez that. But I +hain't a-holdin' no gredge, an' now I'll tell ye sumpin' that'll s'prise +ye. + +"Ez I tol' ye at the time, Squire, I got the tip ten year ago this +month, th't unless somebody went up to Steve Groner's hill place an' +poured a pound or two o' lead inter a big b'ar th't had squatted on tha' +farm, th't Steve wouldn't hev no live-stock left to pervide pork an' +beef fer his winterin' over, even if he managed to keep hisself an' +fam'ly theirselfs from linin' the b'ar's innards. I shouldered my gun +an' went up to Steve's to hev some fun with bruin, an' to save Steve's +stock, an' resky him an' his folks from the rampagin' b'ar. + +"'He's a rip-snorter,' Steve says to me, w'en I got thar. 'He don't +think nuthin' o' luggin' off a cow,' he says, 'an' ye don't wanter hev +yer weather eye shet w'en you an' him comes together,' he says. + +"'B'ars,' I says to Steve, 'b'ars is nuts fer me, an' the bigger an' +sassier they be,' I says, 'the more I inj'y 'em,' I says, an' with that +I clim' inter the woods to show bruin th't th' wa'n't room enough here +below fer me an' him both. Tain't necessary fer me to tell o' the +half-dozen or more lively skrimmages me an' that b'ar had ez we follered +an' chased one another round an' round them woods--how he'd hide ahind +some big tree or stumps, an' ez I went by, climb on to me with all four +o' his feet an' yank an' bite an' claw an' dig meat an' clothes offen me +till I slung him off an' made him skin away to save his bacon; an' how +I'd lay the same way fer him, an' w'en he come sneakin' 'long arter me +agin, pitch arter him like a mad painter, an' swat an' pound an' choke +an' rassel him till his tongue hung out, till I were sorry for him, an' +let him git away inter the brush agin to recooperate fer the next round. +'Tain't wuth w'ile fer me to say anything 'bout them little skrimmages +'cept the last un, an' that un wa'n't a skrimmage but sumpin' that'd 'a' +skeert some folks dead in their tracks. + +"Arter havin' a half-dozen or so o' rassels with this big b'ar, jist fer +fun, I made up my mind, ez 'twere gettin' late, an' ez Steve Groner's +folks was mebby feelin' anxious to hear which was gointer run the farm, +them or the b'ar, th't the next heat with bruin would be for keeps. I +guess the ol' feller had made up his mind the same way, fer w'en I run +agin him the las' time, he were riz up on his hind legs right on the +edge o' Deep Rock Gulley, and were waitin' fer me with his jaws wide +open. I unslung my gun, an' takin' aim at one o' the b'ar's forepaws, +thought I'd wing him an' make him come away from the edge o' the gulley +'fore I tackled him. The ball hit the paw, an' the b'ar throw'd 'em both +up. But he throw'd 'em up too fur, an' he fell over back'rd, an' went +head foremost inter the gulley. Deep Rock Gulley ain't an inch less'n +fifty foot from top to bottom, an' the walls is ez steep ez the side of +a house. I went up to the edge an' looked over. Ther' were the b'ar +layin' on his face at the bottom, whar them queer cracks is in the +ground, an' he were a-howlin' like a hurricane and kickin' like a mule. +Ther' he laid, and he wa'n't able to rise up. Th' wa'n't no way o' +gettin' down to him 'cept by tumblin' down ez he had, an' if ever +anybody were poppin' mad I were, ez I see my meat a-layin' at the bottom +o' that gulley, an' the crows a-getherin' to hev a picnic with it. The +more I kept my eyes on that b'ar the madder I got, an' I were jist about +to roll and tumble an' slide down the side o' that gulley ruther than go +back home an' say th't I'd let the crows steal a b'ar away from me, w'en +I see a funny change comin' over the b'ar. He didn't howl so much, and +his kicks wa'n't so vicious. Then his hind parts began to lift themse'fs +up offen the ground in a cur'ous sort o' way, and swung an' bobbed in +the air. They kep' raisin' higher an' higher, till the b'ar were +act'ally standin' on his head, an' swayin' to and fro ez if a wind were +blowin' him an' he couldn't help it. The sight was so oncommon out o' +the reg'lar way b'ars has o' actin' that it seemed skeery, an' I felt ez +if I'd ruther be home diggin' my 'taters. But I kep' on gazin' at the +b'ar a-circusin' at the bottom o' the gulley, an 't wa'n't long 'fore +the hull big carcase begun to raise right up offen the ground an' come +a-floatin' up outen the gulley, fer all the world ez if 't wa'n't more'n +a feather. The b'ar come up'ards tail foremost, an' I noticed th't he +looked consid'able puffed out like, makin' him seem lik' a bar'l +sailin' in the air. Ez the b'ar kim a-floatin' out o' the dep's I could +feel my eyes begin to bulge, an' my knees to shake like a jumpin' +jack's. But I couldn't move no more'n a stun wall kin, an' thar I stood +on the edge o' the gulley, starin' at the b'ar ez it sailed on up to'rd +me. The b'ar were making a desper't effort to git itself back to its +nat'ral p'sition on all fours, but th' wa'n't no use, an' up he sailed, +tail foremost, an' lookin' ez if he were gointer bust the next minute, +he were swelled out so. Ez the b'ar bobbed up and passed by me I could +ha' reached out an' grabbed him by the paw, an' I think he wanted me to, +the way he acted, but I couldn't ha' made a move to stop him, not if +he'd ha' ben my gran'mother. The b'ar sailed on above me, an' th' were a +look in his eyes th't I won't never fergit. It was a skeert look, an' a +look that seemed to say th't it were all my fault, an' th't I'd be sorry +fer it some time. The b'ar squirmed an' struggled agin comin' to setch +an' onheerdon end, but up'ard he went, tail foremost, to'ard the clouds. + +"I stood thar par'lyzed w'ile the b'ar went up'ard. The crows that had +been settlin' round in the trees, 'spectin' to hev a bully meal, went to +flyin' an' scootin' around the onfortnit b'ar, an' yelled till I were +durn nigh deef. It wa'n't until the b'ar had floated up nigh onto a +hundred yards in the air, an' begun to look like a flyin' cub, that my +senses kim back to me. Quick ez a flash I rammed a load inter my rifle, +wrappin' the ball with a big piece o' dry linen, not havin' time to tear +it to the right size. Then I took aim an' let her go. Fast ez the ball +went, I could see that the linen round it had been sot on fire by the +powder. The ball overtook the b'ar and bored a hole in his side. Then +the funniest thing of all happened. A streak o' fire a yard long shot +out o' the b'ar's side where the bullet had gone in, an' ez long ez +that poor bewitched b'ar were in sight--fer o' course I thort at the +time th't the b'ar were bewitched--I could see that streak o' fire +sailin' along in the sky till it went out at last like a shootin' star. +I never knowed w'at become o' the b'ar, an' the hull thing were a +startlin' myst'ry to me, but I kim home, Squire, an' tol' ye the story, +jest ez I've tol' ye now, an' ye were so durn polite th't ye said I were +a liar. But sence, I've been a-thinkin' an' recollectin'. Squire, I +don't hold no gredge. The myst'ry's plain ez day, now. We don't want no +better signs o' gas th'n th't, do we, Squire?" + +"Than what?" said the Squire. + +"Than what!" exclaimed the Old Settler. "Than that b'ar, o' course! +That's w'at ailed him. It's plain enough th't thuz nat'ral gas on the +Groner place, an' th't it leaks outen the ground in Deep Rock Gulley. +Wen that b'ar tumbled to the bottom that day, he fell on his face. He +were hurt so th't he couldn't get up. O' course the gas didn't shut +itself off, but kep' on a-leakin' an' shot up inter the b'ar's mouth and +down his throat. The onfortnit b'ar couldn't help hisself, an' bimby he +were filled with gas like a balloon, till he had to float, an' away he +sailed, up an' up an' up. Wen I fired at the b'ar, ez he was floatin' +to'ard the clouds, the linen on the bullet carried fire with it, an' +w'en the bullet tapped the b'ar's side the burnin' linen sot it on fire, +showin' th't th' can't be no doubt 'bout it bein' gas th't the b'ar +swallered in Deep Rock Gulley. So ye see, Squire, I wa'n't no liar, an' +the chances is all in favor o' your seein' a balloon h'isted from gas +right in yer own bailiwick afore ye turn up yer toes." + +The Squire gazed at the Old Settler in silent amazement for a minute or +more. Then he threw up his hands and said: + +"Wal--I'll--be--durned!" + + + + +VERRE DEFINITE + +BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY + + + It' verre long, long tam', ma frien', + I'm leeve on Bourbonnais, + I'm keep de gen'rale merchandise, + I'm prom'nent man, dey say; + I'm sell mos' every t'ing dere ees, + From sulky plow to sock, + I don' care w'at you ask me for, + You'll fin' it in my stock. + + Las' w'ek dere was de _petite fille_ + Of ma frien', Gosse, he com' + Into ma shop to get stock_ing_, + She want to buy her som'; + She was herself not verre ol', + Near twelve year, I suppose; + She com' to me an' say, "M'sieu, + I wan' to buy som' hose." + + I always mak' de custom rule, + No matter who it ees, + To be polite an' eloquent + In transack of ma beez; + I say to her, "For who you wan' + Dese stockings to be wear?" + She say she need wan pair herself, + Also for small bruddére. + + She say her bruddére's eight years ol' + An' coming almos' nine, + An' I am twelve, mos' near t'irteen, + Dat size will do for mine: + An' modder she will tak' beeg pair, + She weigh 'bout half a ton, + She wan' de size of forty year + Go_ing_ on forty-one. + + + + +THE TALKING HORSE + +BY JOHN T. McINTYRE + + +Upon a fence across the way was posted a "twenty-four sheet block +stand," and along the top, in big red letters, it read: + +"_H. Wellington Sheldon Presents_" + +Then followed the names of a half dozen famous operatic stars. + +Bat Scranton sat regarding it silently for a long time; but after he had +placed himself behind his third big cigar he joined in the talk. + +"In fifteen years dubbing about this great and glorious," said he, "I +never run across a smoother piece of goods than old Cap. Sheldon. To see +him, now, in his plug hat, frock coat and white English whiskers, you'd +spot him as the main squeeze in a prosperous bank. He's doing the +Frohman stunt, too," and Bat nodded toward the poster, "and he handles +it with exceeding grace. When I see him after the curtain falls upon a +bunch of Verdi or Wagner stuff, come out and bow his thanks to a house +full of the town's swellest, and throw out a little spiel with an +aristocratic accent, I always think of the time when I first met him. + +"Were any of you ever in Langtry, Ohio? Well, never take a chance on it +if there is anywhere else to go. It's a tank town with a community of +seven hundred of the tightest wads that ever sunk a dollar into the toe +of a sock. There was a fair going on in the place, and I blew in there +one September day; my turn just then was taking orders for crayon +portraits of rural gentlemen with horny hands and plenty of chin fringe. +I figure it out that about sixty per cent. of the parlors in the middle +west are adorned with one or more of these works of art, but Langtry, +Ohio, would not listen to the proposition for a moment; as soon as they +discovered that I wasn't giving the stuff away they sort of lost +interest in me and mine; so I began to study the time-table and kick off +the preliminary dust of the burg, preparatory to seeking a new base of +operations. + +"As I made my way to the station I caught my first glimpse of Cap. +Sheldon. He had a satchel hanging from around his neck and was winsomely +wrapping ten dollar notes up with small cylinders of soap and offering +to sell them at one dollar a throw. + +"'How are they going,' says I. + +"'Not at all,' says he. 'There's nothing to it that I can see. The breed +and seed of Solomon himself must have camped down in this section; they +are the wisest lot I ever saw herd together. Instead of chewing straws +and leaning over fences after the customary and natural manner of +ruminates, they pike around with a calm, cold-blooded sagacity that is +truly awesome. It's me to pull out as soon as I can draw expenses.' + +"The next time Cap. dawned upon my vision was a year afterward, down in +Georgia. He was doing the ballyho oration in front of a side wall circus +in a mellifluous style that was just dragging the tar heels up to the +entrance. + +"'It's a little better than the Ohio gag,' says he, 'but I've seen +better, at that. I had a good paying faro outfit in Cincinnati since I +met you, but the police got sore because I wouldn't cut the takings in +what they considered the right place, so they closed me up.' + +"During the next five years I met Cap. in every section of the country, +and handling various propositions. In San Francisco I caught him in the +act of selling toy balloons on a street corner; in Chicago he was +disposing of old line life insurance with considerable effect; at a +county fair, somewhere in Iowa, I ran across him as he gracefully +manipulated the shells. + +"But Cap. did not break permanently into the show business until he +coupled up with the McClintock in Milwaukee. Mac was an Irish +Presbyterian, and was proud of it; he came out of the Black North and +was the most acute harp, mentally, that I had ever had anything to do +with. The Chosen People are not noted for commercial density; but a Jew +could enter Mac's presence attired in the height of fashion and leave it +with only his shoe strings and a hazy recollection as to how the thing +was done. + +"Now, when a team like Cap. and Mac took to pulling together, there just +naturally had to be something doing. They began with a small show under +canvas, and their main card was a twenty-foot boa-constrictor, which +they billed as 'Mighty Mardo.' Then they had a boy with three legs, one +of which they neglected to state was made of wood; also a blushing +damsel with excess embonpoint to the extent of four hundred pounds. With +this outfit they campaigned for one season; in the fall they bought a +museum in St. Louis and settled themselves as impresarios. + +"Now, in my numerous meetings with Cap. I had never thought to ask his +name, so when I saw an 'ad' in the _Clipper_ stating that Sheldon & +McClintock was in need of a good full-toned lecturer that doubled in +brass, I just sat me down in my ignorance and dropped them a line. They +sent me a ticket to where I was sidetracked up in Michigan, and I +hurried down. + +"'Oh, it's you, is it?' says Cap., as I piked into the ten by twelve +office and announced myself. 'Well, I've heard you throw a spiel and +think you'll do. But I didn't know that you played brass. What's your +instrument?' + +"Now, I had a faint sentiment from the beginning that this clause in +their bill of requirements would get me into trouble, for I knew no more +about band music than a he goat knows about the book of common prayer. + +"'I do the cymbals,' says I. + +"'What!' snorts Cap., rearing up; 'I thought you wrote that you played +brass?' + +"'Well,' says I, 'ain't cymbals brass?' + +"It must have been my cold nerve that won Cap.'s regard, for he placed +me as 'curio hall' lecturer and advertising man at twenty a week. + +"The museum of Sheldon & McClintock proved to be a great notch. More +fake freaks were thought out, worked up and exhibited during the course +of that winter season than I would care to count. Then there was a small +theater attached in which they put on very bad specialties and where +painful-voiced young men and women warbled sentimental ballads about +their childhood homes and stuff of that character. These got about ten +dollars a week and had to do about thirty turns a day; they lived in +their make-up and got so accustomed to grease paint before the end of +their engagements that they felt only half dressed without it. + +"The trick made money, and in about a year McClintock cut loose and went +into a patent promoting scheme. + +"Shortly afterward the first 'continuous house' was opened in St. Louis, +and the novelty of the thing was a body blow to Cap. He made a good +fight, but lost money every day; and at last he imparted to me in +confidence that if business did not improve he could see himself getting +out the shells and limbering up on them preparatory to going out and +facing the world once more. + +"'The bank will stand for three hundred thousand dollars' worth more of +my checks,' says he, 'and after they're used up I'm done.' + +"He began to cut down expenses with the reckless energy of a man who saw +the poor-house looming ahead for him; the results was that his bad shows +grew worse, and the attendance wasn't enough to dust off the seats. The +biggest item of expense about the place was 'Mighty Mardo,' the +boa-constrictor; his diet was live rabbits, and a twenty-foot snake with +a body as thick as a four-inch pipe can dispose of good and plenty of +them when he takes the notion. Cap. began to feed him live rats, and the +mighty one soon began to show the effects of it. + +"'He'll die on you,' says I to Cap. one day. + +"'Let him,' says he; 'the rabbits stay cut out.' + +"One day a fellow came along with a high-schooled horse that he wanted +to sell. He had more use for ready money just then than he had for the +nag, so he offered to put it in cheap. But Cap. waved him away. + +"'I'll need the money to buy meals with before long,' says he to the +fellow, 'so tempt me not to my going hungry.' + +"This little incident seemed to make the old man feel bad; he locked +himself up in the office for four hours or so communing with his inner +self; but when he came out he was looking bright and gay. + +"'Say,' says he, 'I've changed my mind and just bought that horse.' + +"'I didn't see the man come back,' says I. + +"'I made the deal over the 'phone,' says Cap. Then he pushes a thick wad +of penciled stuff at me. 'Here's some truck I want you to take over to +the printing house,' he goes on. 'When it's out and up the brute will be +well known.' + +"I takes a look over the copy, and my hat was lifted two inches straight +off my head. The first one read something like this: + +ADMIRAL + +THE TALKING HORSE + +TALKS LIKE A HUMAN BEING +VOCAL ORGANS DEVELOPED LIKE THOSE OF +A MAN +HEAR HIM SING THE BASS SOLO +"DOWN IN THE DEPTHS" + +TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS + +TO ANY ONE PROVING THESE CLAIMS +FAKE IN THE SLIGHTEST DEGREE + +"'Reads good, don't it?' asks Cap., sort of beaming through his +nose-pinzes. 'But give a look at the others.' + +"The next one was as bad as the first: + +ADMIRAL!!! + +THE HORSE WHO RECITES +THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE +IN A DEEP BASS VOICE +AND WITH PERFECT ENUNCIATION + +"'I didn't hear the fellow say the skate could do that kind of stuff,' +says I, just a bit dazed, after looking over a lot more of it. + +"'He only handed it to me as a sort of last card,' says Cap., 'and +that's what made me change my mind about buying him. Get five thousand +twelve sheets in yellow and red; ten thousand three sheets; fifteen +thousand block one sheets with cut of the horse. And you can place an +order for as many black and white dodgers as they can turn out between +this and the end of the week. It's a big card and we're going into it up +to our eyebrows.' + +"If I had had time to consider anything but hustling, I might have +thought the thing was a fake. But it was the old man's game and I left +him to do the worrying. I threw rush orders into the printers and soon +had the presses banging away on the stuff desired. + +"Next day Cap. started a four-inch double-column notice in every paper +in town. I hired an army of distributers and began to put out the +dodgers as they came hot off the bat; then I got a couple of Guinea +bands, put them in open wagons, done up with painted muslin +announcements, and sent them forth to tear off the melody and otherwise +delight the eye and ear of the town. As the big stuff came off the press +it was slapped up on every blank wall and fence in the city that wasn't +under guard; and when the job was finished, St. Louis fairly glared with +it. If there was a person who hadn't heard of the Talking Horse by the +end of the week, they must have been deaf, dead or in jail. + +"The nag was to make his first appearance on Monday, and the last sheet +of paper had been put up and the last hand bill disposed of by Saturday +afternoon. + +"'How does she look?' says Cap. to me when I came in. + +"'Great,' says I. 'If they ain't tearing the place down to get in on +Monday, why my bump of prophecy has a dent in it.' + +"'Let 'em come,' says Cap., looking very much tickled. 'We need the +money and we ain't turning nobody away. The horse has reached town and +will be brought around to-morrow morning; so you make it a point to be +on hand to let it and the handler in.' + +"I was around bright and early on Sunday morning, and along comes the +horse. He was got up in the swellest horse stuff I ever saw--beaded +blankets of plush and silk, with his name embroidered on them, and all +that kind of goods. The handler was a husky with one lamp and a bad one +at that. + +"'Where do I put him?' says he. + +"'On the top floor,' says I. 'We've got planks on the stairs and a +rigging fixed to haul him up by.' + +"When we got him safely landed and the glad coverings off, I looked him +over. + +"'His intellect must sort of tell on him, don't it?' asks I. + +"'Why, he is some under weight,' says the fellow in charge. + +"'He don't look over-bright to me,' I goes on. + +"'He never does on Sundays,' the husky comes back. 'It's sort of an off +day with him.' + +"Then I went out to lunch and stayed about two hours; when I got back I +found a gang of cops and things buzzing all over the place. Cap. was in +the office, his plug hat on the back of his head and a cigar in his +mouth. + +"'What's the trouble?' says I. + +"'Had a hell of a time around here,' says he. 'I was called up on the +'phone and got down as soon as I could. Just take an observation of that +fellow over there.' + +"The fellow referred to was the handler of the Talking Horse. His left +arm was done up in splints and bandaged from finger-tips to shoulder, +and he had a clump of reporters around him about six feet thick. + +"'What hit him?' asks I. + +"'About everything on the top floor,' says Cap., solemnly. 'The Talking +Horse is dead. Mighty Mardo broke out of his showcase about an hour ago, +took a couple of half hitches around the Admiral and crushed him to +death.' + +"'Go 'way!' says I. + +"'Sure thing,' says Cap. 'Come up stairs and have a look.' + +"We went up and did so. The place was a wreck; the horse was the deadest +I ever saw and the constrictor was still twined about him. + +"'Why, the snake's passed out, too,' says I. + +"Cap. folds his hands meekly across his breast in a resigned sort of +way. + +"'Yes,' says he; 'he, too, was killed in the dreadful struggle. He must +have went straight for the Admiral as soon as he got loose. The handler +was down in the office, alone, when the uproar started; he came jumping +upstairs six steps to the jump and when he sees Mardo putting in that +bunch of body holds on his intelligent charge, why, he took a hand. The +result was a dead snake for me and a crippled wing for him. When I got +here, Doc. Forbes was tying him up,' Cap. goes on rather sorrowful like; +'and when I sees what's happened, I know that I'm a ruined man. So I +'phones for the police and reporters to come down and view my finish.' + +"From the way he talked I expected to see him carted home before the +hour was up; but he wasn't. As soon as the newspaper fellows cleared out +with all the facts of the case in their note-books, Cap. sends for a +fellow and puts him right to work fixing up the horse and snake so's +they'll keep, and then lays them out. + +"Next morning the newspapers slopped over with scare headlines telling +of the battle. According to their way of looking at it, the struggles in +the arena of old Rome were scared to death in comparison, and modern +times did not come anywhere near showing a parallel of the combat +between the terrible constrictor and the horse with the human voice. The +result of this was that when the time came to open the doors at noon we +had to have a squad of police to keep the mob from blocking traffic for +squares around. Cap. had changed and doubled the size of his ads. over +night. + +"The horse was done up in a big black coffin covered with flowers; and +the lid with his name, age and wonderful accomplishment engraved upon a +plate stood beside him. The remains of Mighty Mardo, stuffed with baled +hay and excelsior, were embracing the dead Admiral with monster coils; +and the crowds came, gazed, and marveled; then they went forth to tell +their friends that they might come and do likewise. + +"For weeks the coin came into the box like a spring freshet in the hill +country, and Cap. must have kept the bank working after hours; at any +rate, he sat around and smoked with a smile so angelic, that, to look at +him, one wondered how he could wear it and not drift away into the +ethereal blue. It was a good month before the thing lost its pulling +power, and when it stopped Cap. had planted the stake that boosted him +into the company he now keeps and set him to handling voices that cost +thousands of simoleons an hour. + +"When all was over, I found time to take the husky, with the damaged +fin out and throw a few drinks into him. Then he told me the whole +story. + +"'The old man didn't think you could do the thing justice if you were +wise,' says he, 'so he kept you out. This ain't the horse the fellow +offered to sell him, at all. He bought it at a bazar for ten dollars, +the day before I brought it around. When you went out for lunch Cap. he +comes in. We done for the plug in a minute, and as Mighty Marda was all +but gone, on account of his rat diet, we finished him, too. Then we +wrecked the place up some, took a couple of turns about the horse with +Mardo, called in Doc. Forbes, who stood in, to fix up the fictitious +fracture, and then rung in the show.' + +"Yes," observed Bat, thoughtfully, after a pause, "I've made up my mind +that H. Wellington Sheldon is a wise plug." + + + + +THE OWL-CRITIC + +BY JAMES T. FIELDS + + + "Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop, + The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop; + The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading + The "Daily," the "Herald," the "Post," little heeding + The young man who blurted out such a blunt question; + Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion; + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "Don't you see, Mr. Brown," + Cried the youth, with a frown, + "How wrong the whole thing is, + How preposterous each wing is + How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is-- + In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis! + I make no apology; + I've learned owl-eology. + I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections, + And can not be blinded to any deflections + Arising from unskilful fingers that fail + To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail. + Mister Brown! Mister Brown! + Do take that bird down, + Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "I've _studied_ owls, + And other night-fowls, + And I tell you + What I know to be true; + An owl can not roost + With his limbs so unloosed; + No owl in this world + Ever had his claws curled, + Ever had his legs slanted, + Ever had his bill canted, + Ever had his neck screwed + Into that attitude. + He can't _do_ it, because + 'Tis against all bird-laws. + Anatomy teaches, + Ornithology preaches, + An owl has a toe + That _can't_ turn out so! + I've made the white owl my study for years, + And to see such a job almost moves me to tears! + Mr. Brown, I'm amazed + You should be so gone crazed + As to put up a bird + In that posture absurd! + To _look_ at that owl really brings on a dizziness; + The man who stuffed _him_ don't half know his business!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "Examine those eyes. + I'm filled with surprise + Taxidermists should pass + Off on you such poor glass; + So unnatural they seem + They'd make Audubon scream, + And John Burroughs laugh + To encounter such chaff. + Do take that bird down; + Have him stuffed again, Brown!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "With some sawdust and bark + I could stuff in the dark + An owl better than that. + I could make an old hat + Look more like an owl + Than that horrid fowl, + Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather. + In fact, about _him_ there's not one natural feather." + + Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch, + The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch, + Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic + (Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic, + And then fairly hooted, as if he should say: + "Your learning's at fault _this_ time, anyway; + Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray. + I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good day!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + + + +THE MOSQUITO + +BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT + + + Fair insect! that, with thread-like legs spread out, + And blood-extracting bill, and filmy wing, + Dost murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about, + In pitiless ears, fall many a plaintive thing, + And tell how little our large veins should bleed + Would we but yield them to thy bitter need. + + Unwillingly, I own, and, what is worse, + Full angrily, men listen to thy plaint; + Thou gettest many a brush and many a curse, + For saying thou art gaunt, and starved, and faint. + Even the old beggar, while he asks for food, + Would kill thee, hapless stranger, if he could. + + I call thee stranger, for the town, I ween, + Has not the honor of so proud a birth: + Thou com'st from Jersey meadows, fresh and green, + The offspring of the gods, though born on earth; + For Titan was thy sire, and fair was she, + The ocean-nymph that nursed thy infancy. + + Beneath the rushes was thy cradle swung, + And when at length thy gauzy wings grew strong, + Abroad to gentle airs their folds were flung, + Rose in the sky and bore thee soft along; + The south wind breathed to waft thee on thy way, + And danced and shone beneath the billowy bay. + + Calm rose afar the city spires, and thence + Came the deep murmur of its throng of men, + And as its grateful odors met thy sense, + They seemed the perfumes of thy native fen. + Fair lay its crowded streets, and at the sight + Thy tiny song grew shriller with delight. + + At length thy pinion fluttered in Broadway,-- + Ah, there were fairy steps, and white necks kissed + By wanton airs, and eyes whose killing ray + Shone through the snowy veils like stars through mist; + And fresh as morn, on many a cheek and chin, + Bloomed the bright blood through the transparent skin. + + Sure these were sights to tempt an anchorite! + What! do I hear thy slender voice complain? + Thou wailest when I talk of beauty's light, + As if it brought the memory of pain. + Thou art a wayward being--well, come near, + And pour thy tale of sorrow in mine ear. + + What say'st thou, slanderer! rouge makes thee sick? + And China Bloom at best is sorry food? + And Rowland's Kalydor, if laid on thick, + Poisons the thirsty wretch that bores for blood? + Go! 'twas a just reward that met thy crime; + But shun the sacrilege another time. + + That bloom was made to look at,--not to touch; + To worship, not approach, that radiant white; + And well might sudden vengeance light on such + As dared, like thee, most impiously to bite. + Thou shouldst have gazed at distance, and admired,-- + Murmured thy admiration and retired. + + Thou'rt welcome to the town; but why come here + To bleed a brother poet, gaunt like thee? + Alas! the little blood I have is dear, + And thin will be the banquet drawn from me. + Look round: the pale-eyed sisters in my cell, + Thy old acquaintance, Song and Famine, dwell. + + Try some plump alderman, and suck the blood + Enriched by generous wine and costly meat; + On well-filled skins, sleek as thy native mud, + Fix thy light pump, and press thy freckled feet. + Go to the men for whom, in ocean's halls, + The oyster breeds and the green turtle sprawls. + + There corks are drawn, and the red vintage flows, + To fill the swelling veins for thee, and now + The ruddy cheek and now the ruddier nose + Shall tempt thee, as thou flittest round the brow; + And when the hour of sleep its quiet brings, + No angry hand shall rise to brush thy wings. + + + + +"TIDDLE-IDDLE-IDDLE-IDDLE-BUM! BUM!" + +BY WILBUR D. NESBIT + + + When our town band gets on the square + On concert night you'll find me there. + I'm right beside Elijah Plumb, + Who plays th' cymbals an' bass drum; + An' next to him is Henry Dunn, + Who taps the little tenor one. + I like to hear our town band play, + But, best it does, I want to say, + Is when they tell a tune's to come + With + "Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle- + Bum-Bum!" + + O' course, there's some that likes the tunes + Like _Lily Dale_ an' _Ragtime Coons_; + Some likes a solo or duet + By Charley Green--B-flat cornet-- + An' Ernest Brown--th' trombone man. + (An' they can play, er no one can); + But it's the best when Henry Dunn + Lets them there sticks just cut an' run, + An' 'Lijah says to let her hum + With + "Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle- + Bum-Bum!" + + I don't know why, ner what's the use + O' havin' that to interduce + A tune--but I know, as fer me + I'd ten times over ruther see + Elijah Plumb chaw with his chin, + A-gettin' ready to begin, + While Henry plays that roll o' his + An' makes them drumsticks fairly sizz, + Announcin' music, on th' drum, + With + "Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle- + Bum-Bum!" + + + + +MY FIRST CIGAR + +BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE + + + 'Twas just behind the woodshed, + One glorious summer day, + Far o'er the hills the sinking sun + Pursued his westward way; + And in my safe seclusion + Removed from all the jar + And din of earth's confusion + I smoked my first cigar. + + It was my first cigar! + It was the worst cigar! + Raw, green and dank, hide-bound and rank + It was my first cigar! + + Ah, bright the boyish fancies + Wrapped in the smoke-wreaths blue; + My eyes grew dim, my head was light, + The woodshed round me flew! + Dark night closed in around me-- + Black night, without a star-- + Grim death methought had found me + And spoiled my first cigar. + + It was my first cigar! + A six-for-five cigar! + No viler torch the air could scorch-- + It was my first cigar! + + All pallid was my beaded brow, + The reeling night was late, + My startled mother cried in fear, + "My child, what have you ate?" + I heard my father's smothered laugh, + It seemed so strange and far, + I knew he knew I knew he knew + I'd smoked my first cigar! + + It was my first cigar! + A give-away cigar! + I could not die--I knew not why-- + It was my first cigar! + + Since then I've stood in reckless ways, + I've dared what men can dare, + I've mocked at danger, walked with death, + I've laughed at pain and care. + I do not dread what may befall + 'Neath my malignant star, + No frowning fate again can make + Me smoke my first cigar. + + I've smoked my first cigar! + My first and worst cigar! + Fate has no terrors for the man + Who's smoked his first cigar! + + + + +SHONNY SCHWARTZ + +BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS + + + Haf you seen mine leedle Shonny,-- + Shonny Schwartz,-- + Mit his hair so soft und yellow, + Und his face so blump und mellow; + Sooch a funny leedle fellow,-- + Shonny Schwartz? + + Efry mornings dot young Shonny-- + Shonny Schwartz-- + Rises mit der preak off day, + Und does his chores oup righdt avay; + For he gan vork so vell as blay,-- + Shonny Schwartz. + + Mine Katrina says to Shonny, + "Shonny Schwartz, + Helb your barents all you gan, + For dis life vas bud a shban: + Py und py you'll been a man, + Shonny Schwartz." + + How I lofes to see dot Shonny-- + Shonny Schwartz-- + Vhen he schgampers off to schgool, + Vhere he alvays minds der rule! + For he vas nopody's fool,-- + Shonny Schwartz. + + How I vish dot leedle Shonny-- + Shonny Schwartz-- + Could remain von leedle poy, + Alvays full off life und shoy, + Und dot Time vould not annoy + Shonny Schwartz! + + Nefer mindt, mine leedle Shonny,-- + Shonny Schwartz; + Efry day prings someding new: + Alvays keep der righdt in view, + Und baddle, den, your own canoe, + Shonny Schwartz. + + Keep her in der channel, Shonny,-- + Shonny Schwartz: + Life's voyich vill pe quickly o'er; + Und den ubon dot bedder shore + Ve'll meet again, to bart no more, + Shonny Schwartz. + + + + +A BULLY BOAT AND A BRAG CAPTAIN + +_A Story of Steamboat Life on the Mississippi_ + +BY SOL SMITH + + +Does any one remember the _Caravan_? She was what would now be +considered a slow boat--_then_ (1827) she was regularly advertised as +the "fast running," etc. Her regular trips from New Orleans to Natchez +were usually made in from six to eight days; a trip made by her in five +days was considered remarkable. A voyage from New Orleans to Vicksburg +and back, including stoppages, generally entitled the officers and crew +to a month's wages. Whether the _Caravan_ ever achieved the feat of a +voyage to the Falls (Louisville) I have never learned; if she did, she +must have "had a _time_ of it!" + +It was my fate to take passage in this boat. The Captain was a +good-natured, easy-going man, careful of the comfort of his passengers, +and exceedingly fond of the _game of brag_. We had been out a little +more than five days, and we were in hopes of seeing the bluffs of +Natchez on the next day. Our wood was getting low, and night coming on. +The pilot on duty _above_ (the other pilot held three aces at the time, +and was just calling out the Captain, who "went it strong" on three +kings) sent down word that the mate had reported the stock of wood +reduced to half a cord. The worthy Captain excused himself to the pilot +whose watch was _below_ and the two passengers who made up the party, +and hurried to the deck, where he soon discovered by the landmarks that +we were about half a mile from a woodyard, which he said was situated +"right round yonder point." "But," muttered the Captain, "I don't much +like to take wood of the yellow-faced old scoundrel who owns it--he +always charges a quarter of a dollar more than any one else; however, +there's no other chance." The boat was pushed to her utmost, and in a +little less than an hour, when our fuel was about giving out, we made +the point, and our cables were out and fastened to trees alongside of a +good-sized wood pile. + +"Hallo, Colonel! How d'ye sell your wood _this_ time?" + +A yellow-faced old gentleman, with a two weeks' beard, strings over his +shoulders holding up to his armpits a pair of copperas-colored +linsey-woolsey pants, the legs of which reached a very little below the +knee; shoes without stockings; a faded, broad-brimmed hat, which had +once been black, and a pipe in his mouth--casting a glance at the empty +guards of our boat and uttering a grunt as he rose from fastening our +"spring line," answered: + +"Why, Capting, we must charge you _three and a quarter_ THIS _time_." + +"The d--l!" replied the Captain--(captains did swear a little in those +days); "what's the odd _quarter_ for, I should like to know? You only +charged me _three_ as I went down." + +"Why, Capting," drawled out the wood merchant, with a sort of leer on +his yellow countenance, which clearly indicated that his wood was as +good as sold, "wood's riz since you went down two weeks ago; besides, +you are awar that you very seldom stop going _down_--when you're going +_up_ you're sometimes obleeged to give me a call, becaze the current's +aginst you, and there's no other woodyard for nine miles ahead; and if +you happen to be nearly out of fooel, why--" + +"Well, well," interrupted the Captain, "we'll take a few cords, under +the circumstances," and he returned to his game of brag. + +In about half an hour we felt the _Caravan_ commence paddling again. +Supper was over, and I retired to my upper berth, situated alongside and +overlooking the brag-table, where the Captain was deeply engaged, having +now the _other_ pilot as his principal opponent. We jogged on +quietly--and seemed to be going at a good rate. + +"How does that wood burn?" inquired the Captain of the mate, who was +looking on at the game. + +"'Tisn't of much account, I reckon," answered the mate; "it's +cottonwood, and most of it green at that." + +"Well, Thompson--(Three aces again, stranger--I'll take that X and the +small change, if you please. It's your deal)--Thompson, I say, we'd +better take three or four cords at the next woodyard--it can't be more +than six miles from here--(Two aces and a bragger, with the age! Hand +over those V's.)." + +The game went on, and the paddles kept moving. At eleven o'clock it was +reported to the Captain that we were nearing the woodyard, the light +being distinctly seen by the pilot on duty. + +"Head her in shore, then, and take in six cords if it's good--see to it, +Thompson; I can't very well leave the game now--it's getting right warm! +This pilot's beating us all to smash." + +The wooding completed, we paddled on again. The Captain seemed somewhat +vexed when the mate informed him that the price was the same as at the +last woodyard--_three and a quarter_; but soon again became interested +in the game. + +From my upper berth (there were no staterooms _then_) I could observe +the movements of the players. All the contention appeared to be between +the Captain and the pilots (the latter personages took it turn and turn +about, steering and playing brag), _one_ of them almost invariably +winning, while the two passengers merely went through the ceremony of +dealing, cutting, and paying up their "anties." They were anxious to +_learn the game_--and they _did_ learn it! Once in a while, indeed, +seeing they had two aces and a bragger, they would venture a bet of five +or ten dollars, but they were always compelled to back out before the +tremendous bragging of the Captain or pilot--or if they did venture to +"call out" on "two bullits and a bragger," they had the mortification to +find one of the officers had the same kind of a hand, and were _more +venerable_! Still, with all these disadvantages, they continued +playing--they wanted to learn the game. + +At two o'clock the Captain asked the mate how we were getting on. + +"Oh, pretty glibly, sir," replied the mate; "we can scarcely tell what +headway we _are_ making, for we are obliged to keep the middle of the +river, and there is the shadow of a fog rising. This wood seems rather +better than that we took in at Yellow-Face's, but we're nearly out +again, and must be looking out for more. I saw a light just ahead on the +right--shall we hail?" + +"Yes, yes," replied the Captain; "ring the bell and ask 'em what's the +price of wood up here. (I've got you again; here's double kings.)" + +I heard the bell and the pilot's hail, "What's _your_ price for wood?" + +A youthful voice on the shore answered, "Three _and_ a quarter!" + +"D--nèt!" ejaculated the Captain, who had just lost the price of two +cords to the pilot--the strangers suffering _some_ at the same +time--"three and a quarter again! Are we _never_ to get to a cheaper +country? (Deal, sir, if you please; better luck next time.)" + +The other pilot's voice was again heard on deck: + +"How much _have_ you?" + +"Only about ten cords, sir," was the reply of the youthful salesman. + +The Captain here told Thompson to take six cords, which would last till +daylight--and again turned his attention to the game. + +The pilots here changed places. _When did they sleep?_ + +Wood taken in, the _Caravan_ again took her place in the middle of the +stream, paddling on as usual. + +Day at length dawned. The brag-party broke up and settlements were being +made, during which operation the Captain's bragging propensities were +exercised in cracking up the speed of his boat, which, by his reckoning, +must have made at least sixty miles, and _would_ have made many more if +he could have procured good wood. It appears the two passengers, in +their first lesson, had incidentally lost one hundred and twenty +dollars. The Captain, as he rose to see about taking in some _good_ +wood, which he felt sure of obtaining now that he had got above the +level country, winked at his opponent, the pilot, with whom he had been +on very bad terms during the progress of the game, and said, in an +undertone, "Forty apiece for you and I and James (the other pilot) is +not bad for one night." + +I had risen and went out with the Captain, to enjoy a view of the +bluffs. There was just fog enough to prevent the vision taking in more +than sixty yards--so I was disappointed in _my_ expectation. We were +nearing the shore, for the purpose of looking for wood, the banks being +invisible from the middle of the river. + +"There it is!" exclaimed the Captain; "stop her!" Ding--ding--ding! went +the big bell, and the Captain hailed: + +"Hallo! the woodyard!" + +"Hallo yourself!" answered a squeaking female voice, which came from a +woman with a petticoat over her shoulders in place of a shawl. + +"What's the price of wood?" + +"I think you ought to know the price by this time," answered the old +lady in the petticoat; "it's three and a qua-a-rter! and now you know +it." + +"Three and the d--l!" broke in the Captain. "What, have you raised on +_your_ wood, too? I'll give you _three_, and not a cent more." + +"Well," replied the petticoat, "here comes the old man--_he'll_ talk to +you." + +And, sure enough, out crept from the cottage the veritable faded hat, +copperas-colored pants, yellow countenance and two weeks' beard we had +seen the night before, and the same voice we had heard regulating the +price of cottonwood squeaked out the following sentence, accompanied by +the same leer of the same yellow countenance: + +"Why, darn it all, Capting, there is but three or four cords left, and +_since it's you_, I don't care if I _do_ let you have it for +_three_--_as you're a good customer_!" + +After a quick glance at the landmarks around, the Captain bolted, and +turned in to take some rest. + +The fact became apparent--the reader will probably have discovered it +some time since--that _we had been wooding all night at the same +woodyard_! + + + + +WHEN THE ALLEGASH DRIVE GOES THROUGH + +BY HOLMAN F. DAY + + + We're spurred with the spikes in our soles; + There is water a-swash in our boots; + Our hands are hard-calloused by peavies and poles, + And we're drenched with the spume of the chutes; + We gather our herds at the head, + Where the axes have toppled them loose, + And down from the hills where the rivers are fed + We harry the hemlock and spruce. + + We hurroop them with the peavies from their sullen beds of snow; + With the pickpole for a goadstick, down the brimming streams we go; + They are hitching, they are halting, and they lurk and hide and dodge, + They sneak for skulking-eddies, they bunt the bank and lodge; + And we almost can imagine that they hear the yell of saws + And the grunting of the grinders of the paper-mills, because + They loiter in the shallows and they cob-pile at the falls, + And they buck like ugly cattle where the broad dead-water crawls; + But we wallow in and welt 'em, with the water to our waist, + For the driving pitch is dropping and the drouth is gasping "Haste"! + Here a dam and there a jam, that is grabbed by grinning rocks, + Gnawed by the teeth of the ravening ledge that slavers at our flocks; + Twenty a month for daring Death--for fighting from dawn to dark-- + Twenty and grub and a place to sleep in God's great public park; + We roofless go, with the cook's bateau to follow our hungry crew-- + A billion of spruce and hell turned loose when the Allegash drive goes + through. + + My lad with the spurs at his heel + Has a cattle-ranch bronco to bust; + A thousand of Texans to wheedle and wheel + To market through smother and dust; + But I with the peavy and pole + Am driving the herds of the pine, + Grant to my brother what suits his soul, + But no bellowing brutes in mine. + + He would wince to wade and wallow--and I hate a horse or steer! + But we stand the kings of herders--he for There and I for Here; + Though he rides with Death behind him when he rounds the wild stampede, + I will chop the jamming king-log and I'll match him deed for deed; + And for me the greenwood savor, and the lash across my face + Of the spitting spume that belches from the back-wash of the race; + The glory of the tumult where the tumbling torrent rolls, + With half a hundred drivers riding through with lunging poles; + Here's huzza, for reckless chances! Here's hurrah for those who ride + Through the jaws of boiling sluices, yeasty white from side to side! + Our brawny fists are calloused, and we're mostly holes and hair, + But if grit were golden bullion we'd have coin to spend and spare! + + Here some rips and there the lips of a whirlpool's bellowing mouth, + Death we clinch and Time we fight, for behind us gasps the Drouth; + Twenty a month, bateau for a home, and only a peep at town, + For our money is gone in a brace of nights after the drive is down; + But with peavies and poles and care-free souls our ragged and roofless + crew + Swarms gayly along with whoop and song when the Allegash drive goes + through. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume +VI. 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Wilder. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + .bboxsm {border: solid 1px; margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%;} + .boxtext {margin-left: 4%; margin-right: 4%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i14 {display: block; margin-left: 14em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i26 {display: block; margin-left: 26em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i30 {display: block; margin-left: 30em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VI. +(of X.), by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. 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: The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VI. (of X.) + +Author: Various + +Editor: Marshall P. Wilder + +Release Date: September 18, 2006 [EBook #19324] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIT AND HUMOR OF *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h4>Library Edition</h4> + +<h2>THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA</h2> + +<h4>In Ten Volumes</h4> + +<h4>VOL. VI</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/dunne.jpg" +alt="FINLEY PETER DUNNE (MR. DOOLEY)" +title="FINLEY PETER DUNNE (MR. DOOLEY)" /></p> + +<p class="figcenter caption">FINLEY PETER DUNNE (MR. DOOLEY)</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA</h1> + +<h2>EDITED BY MARSHALL P. WILDER</h2> + +<h2><i>Volume VI</i></h2> + +<h4> +Funk & Wagnalls Company<br /> +New York and London<br /> +<br /> +Copyright MDCCCCVII, BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY<br /> +Copyright MDCCCCXI, THE THWING COMPANY<br /> +</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='3'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Abou Ben Butler</td><td align='left'>John Paul</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1167">1167</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Advertiser, The</td><td align='left'>Eugene Field</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1101">1101</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>After the Funeral</td><td align='left'>James M. Bailey</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1146">1146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Apostasy of William Dodge, The</td><td align='left'>Stanley Waterloo</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1084">1084</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ballad of Grizzly Gulch, The</td><td align='left'>Wallace Irwin</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1073">1073</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Banty Tim</td><td align='left'>John Hay</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1173">1173</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bear Story, The</td><td align='left'>James Whitcomb Riley</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1047">1047</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Book-Canvasser, The</td><td align='left'>Anonymous</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1113">1113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bully Boat and a Brag Captain, A</td><td align='left'>Sol Smith</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1208">1208</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bumblebeaver, The</td><td align='left'>Kenyon Cox</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1145">1145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Casey at the Bat</td><td align='left'>Ernest Lawrence Thayer</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1148">1148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Chad's Story of the Goose</td><td align='left'>F. Hopkinson Smith</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_993">993</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Colonel Carter's Story of the Postmaster</td><td align='left'>F. Hopkinson Smith</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1052">1052</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Comic Miseries</td><td align='left'>John G. Saxe</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1121">1121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Coquette, The</td><td align='left'>John G. Saxe</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1127">1127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>De Gradual Commence</td><td align='left'>Wallace Bruce Amsbary</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1164">1164</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Evening</td><td align='left'>Oliver Wendell Holmes</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1175">1175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fairport Art Museum, The</td><td align='left'>Octave Thanet</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1062">1062</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Famous Mulligan Ball, The</td><td align='left'>Frank L. Stanton</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1103">1103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Genial Idiot Discusses the Music Cure, The</td><td align='left'>John Kendrick Bangs</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1105">1105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Grains of Truth</td><td align='left'>Bill Nye</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_985">985</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Her Valentine</td><td align='left'>Richard Hovey</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1117">1117</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>It Pays to be Happy</td><td align='left'>Tom Masson</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1170">1170</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>James and Reginald</td><td align='left'>Eugene Field</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1171">1171</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jones</td><td align='left'>Lloyd Osbourne</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1007">1007</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Latter-Day Warnings</td><td align='left'>Oliver Wendell Holmes</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1168">1168</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lost Chords</td><td align='left'>Eugene Field</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1080">1080</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Love Sonnets of an Office Boy</td><td align='left'>S.E. Kiser</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1056">1056</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Martyrdom of Mr. Stevens, The</td><td align='left'>Herbert Quick</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1151">1151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Merchant and the Book-Agent, The</td><td align='left'>Anonymous</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1124">1124</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Modern Farmer, The</td><td align='left'>Jack Appleton</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1083">1083</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mosquito, The</td><td align='left'>William Cullen Bryant</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1199">1199</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mr. Dooley on the Game of Football</td><td align='left'>Finley Peter Dunne</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1059">1059</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My First Cigar</td><td align='left'>Robert J. Burdette</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1204">1204</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Philosofy</td><td align='left'>James Whitcomb Riley</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1076">1076</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Octopussycat, The</td><td align='left'>Kenyon Cox</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1112">1112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Old Settler, The</td><td align='left'>Ed. Mott</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1177">1177</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Owl-Critic, The</td><td align='left'>James T. Fields</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1196">1196</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Paintermine, The</td><td align='left'>Kenyon Cox</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1100">1100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Shonny Schwartz</td><td align='left'>Charles Follen Adams</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1206">1206</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Society Upon the Stanislaus, The</td><td align='left'>Bret Harte</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1078">1078</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>So Wags the World</td><td align='left'>Anne Warner</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1092">1092</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Spring Feeling, A</td><td align='left'>Bliss Carman</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1129">1129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Talking Horse, The</td><td align='left'>John T. McIntyre</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1185">1185</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thompson Street Poker Club, The</td><td align='left'>Henry Guy Carleton</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1140">1140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thoughts fer the Discuraged Farmer</td><td align='left'>James Whitcomb Riley</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1081">1081</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle-bum! bum!"</td><td align='left'>Wilbur D. Nesbit</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1202">1202</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Unconscious Humor</td><td align='left'>J.K. Wetherell</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_998">998</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Up and Down Old Brandywine</td><td align='left'>James Whitcomb Riley</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1003">1003</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Verre Definite</td><td align='left'>Wallace Bruce Amsbary</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1183">1183</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wasted Opportunities</td><td align='left'>Roy Farrell Greene</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1132">1132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Weddin', The</td><td align='left'>Jennie Betts Hartswick</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1134">1134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Welsh Rabbittern, The</td><td align='left'>Kenyon Cox</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1120">1120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>When the Allegash Drive Goes Through</td><td align='left'>Holman F. Day</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1214">1214</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wild Boarder, The</td><td align='left'>Kenyon Cox</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1163">1163</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<h3>COMPLETE INDEX AT THE END OF VOLUME X.</h3> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_985" id="Page_985">[Pg 985]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>GRAINS OF TRUTH</h2> + +<h3>BY BILL NYE</h3> + + +<p>A young friend has written to me as follows: "Could you tell me +something of the location of the porcelain works in Sèvres, France, and +what the process is of making those beautiful things which come from +there? How is the name of the town pronounced? Can you tell me anything +of the history of Mme. Pompadour? Who was the Dauphin? Did you learn +anything of Louis XV whilst in France? What are your literary habits?"</p> + +<p>It is with a great, bounding joy that I impart the desired information. +Sèvres is a small village just outside of St. Cloud (pronounced San +Cloo). It is given up to the manufacture of porcelain. You go to St. +Cloud by rail or river, and then drive over to Sèvres by diligence or +voiture. Some go one way and some go the other. I rode up on the Seine, +aboard of a little, noiseless, low-pressure steamer about the size of a +sewing machine. It was called the Silvoo Play, I think.</p> + +<p>The fare was thirty centimes—or, say, three cents. After paying my fare +and finding that I still had money left, I lunched at St. Cloud in the +open air at a trifling expense. I then took a bottle of milk from my +pocket and quenched my thirst. Traveling through France one finds that +the water is especially bad, tasting of the Dauphin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_986" id="Page_986">[Pg 986]</a></span> at times, and +dangerous in the extreme. I advise those, therefore, who wish to be well +whilst doing the Continent, to carry, especially in France, as I did, a +large, thick-set bottle of milk, or kumiss, with which to take the wire +edge off one's whistle whilst being yanked through the Louvre.</p> + +<p>St. Cloud is seven miles west of the center of Paris and almost ten +miles by rail on the road to Versailles—pronounced Vairsi. St. Cloud +belongs to the canton of Sèvres and the arrondissement of Versailles. An +arrondissement is not anything reprehensible. It is all right. You, +yourself, could belong to an arrondissement if you lived in France.</p> + +<p>St. Cloud is on the beautiful hill slope, looking down the valley of the +Seine, with Paris in the distance. It is peaceful and quiet and +beautiful. Everything is peaceful in Paris when there is no revolution +on the carpet. The steam cars run safely and do not make so much noise +as ours do. The steam whistle does not have such a hold on people as it +does here. The adjutant-general at the depot blows a little tin bugle, +the admiral of the train returns the salute, the adjutant-general says +"Allons!" and the train starts off like a somewhat leisurely young man +who is going to the depot to meet his wife's mother.</p> + +<p>One does not realize what a Fourth of July racket we live in and employ +in our business till he has been the guest of a monarchy of Europe, +between whose toes the timothy and clover have sprung up to a great +height. And yet it is a pleasing change, and I shall be glad when we as +a republic have passed the blow-hard period, laid aside the +ear-splitting steam whistle, settled down to good, permanent +institutions, and taken on the restful, soothful, Boston air which comes +with time and the quiet self-congratulation that one is born in a Bible +land<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_987" id="Page_987">[Pg 987]</a></span> and with Gospel privileges, and where the right to worship in a +strictly high-church manner is open to all.</p> + +<p>The Palace of St. Cloud was once the residence of Napoleon I in +summer-time. He used to go out there for the heated term, and folding +his arms across his stomach, have thought after thought regarding the +future of France. Yet he very likely never had an idea that some day it +would be a thrifty republic, engaged in growing green peas, or pulling a +soiled dove out of the Seine, now and then, to add to the attractions of +her justly celebrated morgue.</p> + +<p>Louis XVIII also put up at the Palace in St. Cloud several summers. He +spelled it "palais," which shows that he had very poor early English +advantages, or that he was, as I have always suspected, a native of +Quebec. Charles X also changed the bedding somewhat, and moved in during +his reign. He also added a new iron sink and a place in the barn for +washing buggies. Louis Philippe spent his summers here for a number of +years, and wrote weekly letters to the Paris papers, signed "Uno," in +which he urged the taxpayers to show more veneration for their royal +nibs. Napoleon III occupied the palais in summer during his lifetime, +availing himself finally of the use of Mr. Bright's justly celebrated +disease and dying at the dawn of better institutions for beautiful but +unhappy France.</p> + +<p>I visited the palais (pronounced pallay), which was burned by the +Prussians in 1870. The grounds occupy 960 acres, which I offered to buy +and fit up, but probably I did not deal with responsible parties. This +part of France reminds me very much of North Carolina. I mean, of +course, the natural features. Man has done more for France, it seems to +me, than for the Tar Heel State, and the cities of Asheville and Paris +are widely different.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_988" id="Page_988">[Pg 988]</a></span> The police of Paris rarely get together in front +of the court-house to pitch horseshoes or dwell on the outlook for the +goober crop.</p> + +<p>And yet the same blue, ozonic sky, if I may be allowed to coin a word, +the same soft, restful, <i>dolce frumenti</i> air of gentle, genial health, +and of cark destroying, magnetic balm to the congested soul, the +inflamed nerve and the festering brain, are present in Asheville that +one finds in the quiet drives of San Cloo with the successful squirt of +the mighty fountains of Vairsi and the dark and whispering forests of +Fon-taine-<i>bloo</i>.</p> + +<p>The palais at San Cloo presents a rather dejected appearance since it +was burned, and the scorched walls are bare, save where here and there a +warped and wilted water pipe festoons the blackened and blistered wreck +of what was once so grand and so gay.</p> + +<p>San Cloo has a normal school for the training of male teachers only. I +visited it, but for some cause I did not make a hit in my address to the +pupils until I began to speak in their own national tongue. Then the +closest attention was paid to what I said, and the keenest delight was +manifest on every radiant face. The president, who spoke some English, +shook hands with me as we parted, and I asked him how the students took +my remarks. He said: "They shall all the time keep the thinkness—what +you shall call the recollect—of monsieur's speech in preserves, so that +they shall forget it not continualle. We shall all the time say we have +not witness something like it since the time we come here, and have not +so much enjoy ourselves since the grand assassination by the guillotine. +Come next winter and be with us for one week. Some of us will remain in +the hall each time."</p> + +<p>At San Cloo I hired of a quiet young fellow about thirty-five years of +age, who kept a very neat livery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_989" id="Page_989">[Pg 989]</a></span> stable there, a sort of victoria and a +big Percheron horse, with fetlock whiskers that reminded me of the +Sutherland sisters. As I was in no hurry I sat on the iron settee in the +cool court of the livery stable, and with my arm resting on the shoulder +of the proprietor I spoke of the crops and asked if generally people +about there regarded the farmer movement as in any way threatening to +the other two great parties. He did not seem to know, and so I watched +the coachman who was to drive me, as he changed his clothes in order to +give me my money's worth in grandeur.</p> + +<p>One thing I liked about France was that the people were willing, at a +slight advance on the regular price, to treat a very ordinary man with +unusual respect and esteem. This surprised and delighted me beyond +measure, and I often told people there that I did not begrudge the +additional expense. The coachman was also hostler, and when the carriage +was ready he altered his attire by removing a coarse, gray shirt or +tunic and putting on a long, olive green coachman's coat, with erect +linen collar and cuffs sewed into the collar and sleeves. He wore a high +hat that was much better than mine, as is frequently the case with +coachmen and their employers. My coachman now gives me his silk hat when +he gets through with it in the spring and fall, so I am better dressed +than I used to be.</p> + +<p>But we were going to say a word regarding the porcelain works at Sèvres. +It is a modern building and is under government control. The museum is +filled with the most beautiful china dishes and funny business that one +could well imagine. Besides, the pottery ever since its construction has +retained its models, and they, of course, are worthy of a day's study. +The "Sèvres blue" is said to be a little bit bluer than anything else in +the known world<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_990" id="Page_990">[Pg 990]</a></span> except the man who starts a nonpareil paper in a pica +town.</p> + +<p>I was careful not to break any of these vases and things, and thus +endeared myself to the foreman of the place. All employes are uniformed +and extremely deferential to recognized ability. Practically, for half a +day, I owned the place.</p> + +<p>A cattle friend of mine who was looking for a dynasty, whose tail he +could twist while in Europe, and who used often to say over our glass of +vin ordinaire (which I have since learned is not the best brand at all), +that nothing would tickle him more than "to have a little deal with a +crowned head and get him in the door," accidentally broke a blue crock +out there at Sèvres which wouldn't hold over a gallon, and it took the +best part of a carload of cows to pay for it, he told me.</p> + +<p>The process of making the Sèvres ware is not yet published in book form, +especially the method of coloring and enameling. It is a secret +possessed by duly authorized artists. The name of the town is pronounced +Save.</p> + +<p>Mme. Pompadour is said to have been the natural daughter of a butcher, +which I regard as being more to her own credit than though she had been +an artificial one. Her name was Jeanne Antoinette Poisson Le Normand +d'Etioles, Marchioness de Pompadour, and her name is yet used by the +authorities of Versailles as a fire escape, so I am told.</p> + +<p>She was the mistress of Louis XV, who never allowed her to put her hands +in dishwater during the entire time she visited at his house. D'Etioles +was her first husband, but she left him for a gay but rather +reprehensible life at court, where she was terribly talked about, though +she is said not to have cared a cent.</p> + +<p>She developed into a marvelous politician, and early<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_991" id="Page_991">[Pg 991]</a></span> seeing that the +French people were largely governed by the literary lights of that time, +she began to cultivate the acquaintance of the magazine writers, and +tried to join the Authors' Club.</p> + +<p>She then became prominent by originating a method of doing up the hair, +which has since grown popular among people whose hair has not, like my +own, been already "done up."</p> + +<p>This style of Mme. Pompadour's was at once popular with the young men +who ran the throttles of the soda fountains of that time, and is still +well spoken of. A young friend of mine trained his hair up from his +forehead in that way once and could not get it down again. During his +funeral his hair, which had been glued down by the undertaker, became +surprised at something said by the clergyman and pushed out the end of +his casket.</p> + +<p>The king tired in a few years of Mme. Pompadour and wished that he had +not encouraged her to run away from her husband. She, however, retained +her hold upon the blasé and alcoholic monarch by her wonderful +versatility and genius.</p> + +<p>When all her talents as an artiste and politician palled upon his old +rum-soaked and emaciated brain, and ennui, like a mighty canker, ate +away large corners of his moth-eaten soul, she would sit in the gloaming +and sing to him, "Hard Times, Hard Times, Come Again No More," meantime +accompanying herself on the harpsichord or the sackbut or whatever they +played in those days. Then she instituted theatricals, giving, through +the aid of the nobility, a very good version of "Peck's Bad Boy" and +"Lend Me Five Centimes."</p> + +<p>She finally lost her influence over Looey the XV, and as he got to be an +old man the thought suddenly occurred to him to reform, and so he had +Mme. Pompadour be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_992" id="Page_992">[Pg 992]</a></span>headed at the age of forty-two years. This little +story should teach us that no matter how gifted we are, or how high we +may wear our hair, our ambitions must be tempered by honor and +integrity; also that pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit +before a plunk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_993" id="Page_993">[Pg 993]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAD'S STORY OF THE GOOSE</h2> + +<h3>BY F. HOPKINSON SMITH</h3> + + +<p>I nodded my head, and Chad closed the door softly, taking with him a +small cup and saucer, and returning in a few minutes followed by that +most delicious of all aromas, the savory steam of boiling coffee.</p> + +<p>"My Marsa John," he continued, filling the cup with the smoking +beverage, "never drank nuffin' but tea, eben at de big dinners when all +de gemmen had coffee in de little cups—dat's one ob 'em you's drinkin' +out ob now; dey ain't mo' dan fo' on 'em left. Old marsa would have his +pot ob tea: Henny use' ter make it for him; makes it now for Miss Nancy.</p> + +<p>"Henny was a young gal den, long 'fo' we was married. Henny b'longed to +Colonel Lloyd Barbour, on de next plantation to ourn.</p> + +<p>"Mo' coffee, Major?" I handed Chad the empty cup. He refilled it, and +went straight on without drawing breath.</p> + +<p>"Wust scrape I eber got into wid old Marsa John was ober Henny. I tell +ye she was a harricane in dem days. She come into de kitchen one time +where I was helpin' git de dinner ready, an' de cook had gone to de +spring house, an' she says:</p> + +<p>"'Chad, what ye cookin' dat smells so nice?'</p> + +<p>"'Dat's a goose,' I says, 'cookin' for Marsa John's dinner. We got +quality,' says I, pointin' to de dinin'-room do'.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_994" id="Page_994">[Pg 994]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Quality!' she says. 'Spec' I know what de quality is. Dat's for you +an' de cook.'</p> + +<p>"Wid dat she grabs a caarvin' knife from de table, opens de do' ob de +big oven, cuts off a leg ob de goose, an' dis'pears round de kitchen +corner wid de leg in her mouf.</p> + +<p>"'Fo' I knowed whar I was Marsa John come to de kitchen do' an' says, +'Gittin' late, Chad; bring in de dinner.' You see, Major, dey ain't no +up an' down stairs in de big house, like it is yer; kitchen an' +dinin'-room all on de same flo'.</p> + +<p>"Well, sah, I was scared to def, but I tuk dat goose an' laid him wid de +cut side down on de bottom of de pan 'fo' de cook got back, put some +dressin' an' stuffin' ober him, an' shet de stove do'. Den I tuk de +sweet potatoes an' de hominy an' put 'em on de table, an' den I went +back in de kitchen to git de baked ham. I put on de ham an' some mo' +dishes, an' marsa says, lookin' up:</p> + +<p>"'I t'ought dere was a roast goose, Chad.'</p> + +<p>"'I ain't yerd nothin' 'bout no goose,' I says, 'I'll ask de cook.'</p> + +<p>"Next minute I yerd old marsa a-hollerin':</p> + +<p>"'Mammy Jane, ain't we got a goose?'</p> + +<p>"'Lord-a-massy! yes, marsa. Chad, you wu'thless nigger, ain't you tuk +dat goose out yit?'</p> + +<p>"'Is we got a goose?' said I.</p> + +<p>"'<i>Is we got a goose?</i> Didn't you help pick it?'</p> + +<p>"I see whar my hair was short, an' I snatched up a hot dish from de +hearth, opened de oven do', an' slide de goose in jes as he was, an' lay +him down befo' Marsa John.</p> + +<p>"'Now see what de ladies'll have for dinner,' says old marsa, pickin' up +his caarvin' knife.</p> + +<p>"'What'll you take for dinner, miss?' says I. 'Baked ham?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_995" id="Page_995">[Pg 995]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'No,' she says, lookin' up to whar Marsa John sat; 'I think I'll take a +leg ob dat goose'—jes so.</p> + +<p>"Well, marsa, cut off de leg an' put a little stuffin' an' gravy on wid +a spoon, an' says to me, 'Chad, see what dat gemman'll have.'</p> + +<p>"'What'll you take for dinner, sah?' says I. 'Nice breast o' goose, or +slice o' ham?'</p> + +<p>"'No; I think I'll take a leg of dat goose,' he says.</p> + +<p>"I didn't say nuffin', but I knowed bery well he wa'n't a-gwine to git +it.</p> + +<p>"But, Major, you oughter seen ole marsa lookin' for der udder leg ob dat +goose! He rolled him ober on de dish, dis way an' dat way, an' den he +jabbed dat ole bone-handled caarvin' fork in him an' hel' him up ober de +dish an' looked under him an' on top ob him, an' den he says, kinder sad +like:</p> + +<p>"'Chad, whar is de udder leg ob dat goose?'</p> + +<p>"'It didn't hab none,' says I.</p> + +<p>"'You mean ter say, Chad, dat de gooses on my plantation on'y got one +leg?'</p> + +<p>"'Some ob 'em has an' some ob 'em ain't. You see, marsa, we got two +kinds in de pond, an' we was a little boddered to-day, so Mammy Jane +cooked dis one 'cause I cotched it fust.'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' said he, lookin' like he look when he send for you in de little +room, 'I'll settle wid ye after dinner.'</p> + +<p>"Well, dar I was shiverin' an' shakin' in my shoes, an' droppin' gravy +an' spillin' de wine on de table-cloth, I was dat shuck up; an' when de +dinner was ober he calls all de ladies an' gemmen, an' says, 'Now come +down to de duck pond. I'm gwineter show dis nigger dat all de gooses on +my plantation got mo' den one leg.'</p> + +<p>"I followed 'long, trapesin' after de whole kit an' b'ilin', an' when we +got to de pond"—here Chad nearly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_996" id="Page_996">[Pg 996]</a></span> went into a convulsion with +suppressed laughter—"dar was de gooses sittin' on a log in de middle of +dat ole green goose-pond wid one leg stuck down so, an' de udder tucked +under de wing."</p> + +<p>Chad was now on one leg, balancing himself by my chair, the tears +running down his cheek.</p> + +<p>"'Dar, marsa,' says I, 'don't ye see? Look at dat ole gray goose! Dat's +de berry match ob de one we had to-day.'</p> + +<p>"Den de ladies all hollered, an' de gemmen laughed so loud dey yerd 'em +at de big house.</p> + +<p>"'Stop, you black scoun'rel!' Marsa John says, his face gittin' white +an' he a-jerkin' his handkerchief from his pocket. 'Shoo!'</p> + +<p>"Major, I hope to have my brains kicked out by a lame grasshopper if +ebery one ob dem gooses didn't put down de udder leg!</p> + +<p>"'Now, you lyin' nigger,' he says, raisin' his cane ober my head, 'I'll +show you'—</p> + +<p>"'Stop, Marsa John!' I hollered; ''t ain't fair, 't ain't fair.'</p> + +<p>"'Why ain't it fair?' says he.</p> + +<p>"''Cause,' says I, 'you didn't say "Shoo!" to de goose what was on de +table'."</p> + +<p>Chad laughed until he choked.</p> + +<p>"And did he thrash you?"</p> + +<p>"Marsa John? No, sah. He laughed loud as anybody; an' den dat night he +says to me as I was puttin' some wood on de fire:</p> + +<p>"'Chad, where did dat leg go?' An' so I ups an' tells him all about +Henny, an' how I was lyin' 'case I was 'feared de gal would git hurt, +an' how she was on'y a-foolin', thinkin' it was my goose; an' den de ole +marsa look in de fire for a long time, an' den he says:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_997" id="Page_997">[Pg 997]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Dat's Colonel Barbour's Henny, ain't it, Chad?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, marsa,' says I.</p> + +<p>"Well, de next mawnin' he had his black horse saddled, an' I held the +stirrup for him to git on, an' he rode ober to de Barbour plantation, +an' didn't come back till plumb black night. When he come up I held de +lantern so I could see his face, for I wa'n't easy in my mine all day. +But it was all bright an' shinin' same as a' angel's.</p> + +<p>"'Chad,' he says, handin' me de reins, 'I bought yo' Henny dis arternoon +from Colonel Barbour, an' she's comin' ober to-morrow, an' you can bofe +git married next Sunday.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_998" id="Page_998">[Pg 998]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>UNCONSCIOUS HUMOR</h2> + +<h3>BY J.K. WETHERILL</h3> + + +<p>Perhaps unconscious humor does not appeal to the more amiable side of +our sense of mirth, for it excites in us a conceited feeling of +superiority over those who are making us laugh,—but its unexpectedness +and infinite variety render it irresistible to a certain class of minds. +The duly labeled "joke" follows a certain law and rule; whereas no +jester could invent the <i>grotesqueries</i> of the unconscious humorist.</p> + +<p>As a humble gleaner after the editorial scythe,—or, to be truly modern, +I should say mowing-machine,—I have gathered some strange sheaves of +this sort of humor. Like many provincial newspapers, that to which I am +attached makes a feature of printing the social happenings in villages +of the surrounding country, and these out-of-town correspondents "don't +do a thing to" the English language. One of them invariably refers to +the social lights of his vicinity as "our prominent socialists," and +describes some individual as "happening to an accident." To another, +every festal occasion is "a bower of beauty and a scene of fairyland." +Blue-penciling they resent, and one of them wrote to complain that a +descriptive effort of his had been "much altered and deranged." The +paper also publishes portraits of children and young women, and it is in +the descriptions accompanying these pictures that the rural +correspondent excels himself. One wound up his eulogy in an apparently +irrepressible burst of enthusiasm:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_999" id="Page_999">[Pg 999]</a></span> "She is indeed a <i>tout ensemble</i>." A +child of six months was described as "studious"; and another +correspondent went into details thus: "Little Willie has only one large +blue eye, the other having been punched out by his brother with a stick, +by accident." A small child was accredited with "a pleasing disposition +and a keen juvenile conception."</p> + +<p>The following are some of the descriptive phrases applied to village +belles: "She is perfectly at home on the piano, where her executions +have attained international celebrity." ... "She possesses a mine of +repartee and the qualities which have long rendered illustive her noble +family." ... "Her carriage and disposition are swan-like." ... "Her eyes +can express pathetic pathos, but flash forth fiery independence when her +country's name is traduced." ... "She has a molded arm, and her +Juno-like form glides with a rhythmic move in the soft swell of a +Strauss." ... "Her chestnut hair gives a rich recess to her lovely, +fawnlike eyes, which shine like a star set in the crown of an angel." +... One writer becomes absolutely incoherent in his admiration, and +lavishes a mixture of metaphors upon his subject: "She portrays a +picture worthy of a Raphael. She dances like the fairies before the +heavenly spirits. She looks like a celestial goddess from an outburst of +morning-glories; her lovely form would assume a phantomlike flash as she +glides the floor, as though she were a mystic dream."</p> + +<p>Scarcely less rich in unconscious humor are some of the effusions of +those who have literary aspirations. A descriptive article contains a +reference to "a lonely house that stood in silent mutiny." "Indians who +border on civilization, an interesting people in their superstitious +way," infested the vicinity, and one of the points of interest was the +Wild Man's Leap, "so called from an In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1000" id="Page_1000">[Pg 1000]</a></span>dian who is said to have leaped +across to get away from some men who were trying to expatriate him." An +aspirant made this generous offer: "I will write you an article every +week if you so wish it, as I have nothing to do after supper." Modest +was the request of another, concerning remuneration: "I do not ask for +money, but would like you to send me a small monkey. I already have a +parrot."</p> + +<p>But no finer specimen of unconscious humor has ever fallen under the +sub-editorial eye than "The Beautiful Circus Girl." In these +enterprising days rising young authors sometimes boast in print of their +ignorance of grammar and spelling, but the author of the aforementioned +bit of fiction surpasses them all in that respect. It seems only just +that such a unique gem should be rescued from the dull obscurity of the +waste-basket.</p> + + +<h3>THE BEAUTIFUL CIRCUS GIRL</h3> + +<p>Some years ago the quaint but slow little village of Mariana was all on +the qui-of-eve with excitement. Pasted on every tree and sign was +announcements of Hall's circus, and the aperence of pretty Rose Floid in +the pearless feets of tight-rope dancing, and Seignor Paul Paulo as her +attendent. All the vilage was agog, for in their midst had old Hall and +his Wife whome he always (spoke of as the Misus) taken a small but +quaint cotage, so as to make quiet and please Rose whose guardien he +was.</p> + +<p>In the distanse was seen an advancing teem, and mounted on its box +driving was W. Alexander, distinguished as to aperence, tallent, and +that charm, <i>money</i>. He was of the most patricien aristocrats of the +place. Placed on the summit of one of those hils that spring up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1001" id="Page_1001">[Pg 1001]</a></span> in the +most unexpected ways and degrees was the quaint old Tudor mansion of the +Alexanders called Waterloo, in rememberence of the home of his ancestors +which now rests on the banks of the Potomack; a legend as to war and +romance. Though bearing with him all the honners that Cambridg could +confere, W. Alexander was a faverite in the vilage, being ever ready +with a kind enquiry as to Parent, or peny for marbles, not forgetting +his boyhoods days. Though the beau par excelant of the vilage, and +posessing vast landed estate and a kind retinu, he was not haughty.</p> + +<p>Every one was eger to see Rose perform. She in her pasage too and frow +had won by her sweet manners (many likings) ere she exhibited her skill.</p> + +<p>The eventful hour of promis came and what a crowd was there. Rose came +fourth, asisted by Paul Paulo. His form was molded even as an Apolo, and +his eger eye was fixed on the bony girl. She ballanced her pole, saught +her equiliberum, and every heart was at her desposal, not accepting W. +Alexander. Seeing this, the dark pashonate eye of the Italian scowled.</p> + +<p>So droped the curtain of the first performance. And W. Alexander stroled +on towards his home, heart and head full of the beautiful circus girl, +thoughts were very conflicting, love at first sight.</p> + +<p>(We will skip, for want of space, the exquisite passages descriptive of +the mutual love of Rose and W. Alexander, and pass on to the finale.)</p> + +<p>There was a paus, a sencation, and Rose came fourth to meander in +mid-air. Admeration was at its hight, as she swayed too and frow as it +were a winged egle from some etherial climb.</p> + +<p>Low! a paus—the rope snaps—and Rose falls to erth a helpless mass of +youth and beauty. The venerable man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1002" id="Page_1002">[Pg 1002]</a></span> of medicin closed her star-lit eyes +now forever dimed to this world. And all knew she had walked the last +rope that bound her to this erth.</p> + +<p>What, who, was her murderer?</p> + +<p>The rope seemed to be cut with some jaged instrument so that when her +tiny feat pressed its coils it became her destroyer.</p> + +<p>Suspician pointed at the Italian.</p> + +<p>W. Alexander's old Father of sympathy now the strongest, entreted our +Hero to sale for distent shores, there asisted by that balm time and +change, there assuage his grefe.</p> + +<p>Well, came the last evening, and with the sadest of hearts and a bunch +of sweet violets W. Alexander went to bid a long fare well.</p> + +<p>But as he neared the sacred spot his heart seemed deadened. Prone on her +grave changing the snowy whiteness of the flowers with its crimson die +was the body of Paul Paulo. Who by his own hand caused his life blood to +floe as an attonement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1003" id="Page_1003">[Pg 1003]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDYWINE</h2> + +<h3>BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up and down old Brandywine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the days 'at's past and gone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a dad-burn hook-and-line<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a saplin'-pole—i swawn!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I've had more fun, to the square<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Inch, than ever <i>any</i>where!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Heaven to come can't discount mine<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Haint no sense in <i>wishin'</i>—yit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wisht to goodness I <i>could</i> jes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Gee" the blame world round and git<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Back to that old happiness!—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Kindo' drive back in the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i3">"The old Covered Bridge" there laid<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Crosst the crick, and sorto' soak<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My soul over, hub and spoke!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Honest, now!—it haint no <i>dream</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2">'At I'm wantin',—but <i>the fac's</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they wuz; the same old stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the same old times, i jacks!—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Gim me back my bare feet—and<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Stonebruise too!—And scratched and tanned!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And let hottest dog-days shine<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1004" id="Page_1004">[Pg 1004]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In and on betwixt the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Long the banks, pour down yer noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindo' curdled with the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the yallerhammer's tune;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the smokin', chokin' dust<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O' the turnpike at its wusst—<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Saturd'ys</i>, say, when it seems<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Road's jes jammed with country teams!—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whilse the old town, fur away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Crosst the hazy pastur'-land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dozed-like in the heat o' day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peaceful' as a hired hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Jolt the gravel th'ough the floor<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O' the old bridge!—grind and roar<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With yer blame percession-line—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Souse me and my new straw-hat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Off the foot-log!—what <i>I</i> care?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fist shoved in the crown o' that—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the old Clown ust to wear.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wouldn't swop it fer a' old<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Gin-u-wine raal crown o' gold!—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Keep yer <i>King</i> ef you'll gim me<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Jes the boy I ust to be!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spill my fishin'-worms! er steal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My best "goggle-eye!"—but you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can't lay hands on joys I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nibblin' like they ust to do!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So, in memory, to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Same old ripple lips away<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At my cork and saggin' line,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1005" id="Page_1005">[Pg 1005]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There the logs is, round the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where "Old Irvin" ust to lift<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out sunfish from daylight till<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dew-fall—'fore he'd leave "The Drift"<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And give <i>us</i> a chance—and then<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Kindo' fish back home again,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ketchin' 'em jes left and right<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where <i>we</i> hadn't got "a bite!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Er, 'way windin' out and in,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Old path th'ough the iurnweeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dog-fennel to yer chin—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then come suddent, th'ough the reeds<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And cat-tails, smack into where<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Them-air woods-hogs ust to scare<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Us clean 'crosst the County-line,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the dim roar o' the dam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It 'ud coax us furder still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tords the old race, slow and ca'm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Slidin' on to Huston's mill—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where, I 'spect, "The Freeport crowd"<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Never <i>warmed</i> to us er 'lowed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We wuz quite so overly<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Welcome as we aimed to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still it peared-like ever'thing—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fur away from home as <i>there</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had more <i>relish</i>-like, i jing!—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fish in stream, er bird in air!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O them rich old bottom-lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Past where Cowden's Schoolhouse stands!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wortermelons—<i>master-mine!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1006" id="Page_1006">[Pg 1006]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And sich pop-paws!—Lumps o' raw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gold and green,—jes oozy th'ough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ripe yaller—like you've saw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Custard-pie with no crust to:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And jes <i>gorges</i> o' wild plums,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Till a feller'd suck his thumbs<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Clean up to his elbows! <i>My!</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Me some more er lem me die!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up and down old Brandywine!...<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stripe me with pokeberry-juice!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flick me with a pizenvine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yell "<i>Yip!</i>" and lem me loose!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">—Old now as I then wuz young,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'F I could sing as I <i>have</i> sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Song 'ud surely ring <i>dee-vine</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4">Up and down old Brandywine!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1007" id="Page_1007">[Pg 1007]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>JONES</h2> + +<h3>BY LLOYD OSBOURNE</h3> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>I could have taken "No" like a man, and would have gone away decently +and never bothered her again. I told her so straight out in the first +angry flush of my rejection—but this string business, with everything +left hanging in the air, so to speak, made a fellow feel like thirty +cents.</p> + +<p>"It simply means that I'm engaged and you are not," I said.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing of the kind," she returned tearfully. "You're as free as +free, Ezra. You can go away this moment, and never write or anything!"</p> + +<p>Her lips trembled as she said this, and I confess it gave me a kind of +savage pleasure to feel that it was still in my power to hurt her.</p> + +<p>It may sound unkind, but still you must admit that the whole situation +was exasperating. Here was five-foot-five of exquisite, blooming, +twenty-year-old American girlhood sending away the man she confessed to +care for, because, forsooth, she would not marry before her elder +sister! I always thought it was beautiful of Freddy (she was named +Frederica, you know) to be always so sweet and tender and grateful about +Eleanor; but sometimes gratitude can be carried altogether too far, even +if you <i>are</i> an orphan, and <i>were</i> brought up by hand. Eleanor was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1008" id="Page_1008">[Pg 1008]</a></span> +thirty-four if a day—a nice enough woman, of course, and college bred, +and cultivated, and clever—but her long suit wasn't good looks. She was +tall and bony; worshipped genius and all that; and played the violin.</p> + +<p>"No," repeated Freddy, "I shall never, never marry before Eleanor. It +would mortify her—I know it would—and make her feel that she herself +had failed. She's awfully frank about those things, Ezra—surprisingly +frank. I don't see why being an old maid is always supposed to be so +funny, do you? It's touching and tragic in a woman who'd like to marry +and who isn't asked!"</p> + +<p>"But Eleanor must have had heaps of offers," I said, "surely—"</p> + +<p>"Just one."</p> + +<p>"Well, one's something," I remarked cheerfully. "Why didn't she take him +then?"</p> + +<p>"She told me only last night that she was sorry she hadn't!"</p> + +<p>Here, at any rate, was something to chew on. I saw a gleam of hope. Why +shouldn't Eleanor marry the only one—and make us all happy!</p> + +<p>"That was three years ago," said Freddy.</p> + +<p>"I have loved you for four," I retorted. I was cross with +disappointment. To be dashed to the ground, you know, just as I was +beginning—"Tell me some more about him," I went on. I'm a plain +business man and hang on to an idea like a bulldog; once I get my teeth +in they stay in, for all you may drag at me and wallop me with an +umbrella—metaphorically speaking, of course.</p> + +<p>"Tell me his name, where he lives, and all."</p> + +<p>"We were coming back from Colorado, and there was some mistake about our +tickets. They sold our Pullman drawing-room twice over—to Doctor Jones +and his mother, and also to ourselves. You never saw such a fight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1009" id="Page_1009">[Pg 1009]</a></span>—and +that led to our making friends, and his proposing to Eleanor!"</p> + +<p>"Then why in Heaven's name didn't she" (it was on the tip of my tongue +to say "jump at him") "take him?"</p> + +<p>"She said she couldn't marry a man who was her intellectual inferior."</p> + +<p>"And was he?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he was a perfect idiot—but nice, and all that, and tremendously in +love with her. Pity, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"The obvious thing to do is to chase him up instantly. Where did you say +he lived?"</p> + +<p>"His mother told me he was going to New York to practice medicine."</p> + +<p>"But didn't you ever hear from him again? I mean, was that the end of it +all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't even know if he has married since?"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"Nor died?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Nor anything at all?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What was his first name?"</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment ... let me think ... yes, it was Harry."</p> + +<p>"Just Harry Jones, then, New York City?"</p> + +<p>Freddy laughed forlornly.</p> + +<p>"But he must have had antecedents," I cried out. "There are two ways of +doing this Sherlock Holmes business—backward and forward, you know. +Let's take Doctor Jones backward. As they say in post-office +forms?—what was his place of origin?"</p> + +<p>"New York City."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1010" id="Page_1010">[Pg 1010]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He begins there and ends there, does he, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But how sure are you that Eleanor would marry him if I did manage to +find him and bring him back?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure at all."</p> + +<p>"No, but Freddy, listen—it's important. You told me yourself that +she—I want the very identical words she used."</p> + +<p>Freddy reflected.</p> + +<p>"She said she was almost sorry she hadn't accepted that silly doctor!"</p> + +<p>"That doesn't seem much, does it?" I remarked gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, from Eleanor it does, Ezra. She said it quite seriously. She always +hides her feelings under a veil of sarcastic humor, you know."</p> + +<p>"You're certainly a very difficult family to marry," I said.</p> + +<p>"Being an orphan—" she began.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going to find that Jones if I—!"</p> + +<p>"Ezra, dear boy, you're crazy. How could you think for a moment that—"</p> + +<p>"I'm off, little girl. Good-by!"</p> + +<p>"Wait a second, Ezra!"</p> + +<p>She rose and went into the next room, reappearing with something in her +hand. She was crying and smiling both at once. I took the little case +she gave me—it was like one of those things that pen-knives are put +in—and looked at her for an explanation.</p> + +<p>"It's the h-h-hindleg of a j-j-jack-rabbit," she said, "shot by a +g-g-grave at the f-f-full of the moon. It's supposed to be l-l-lucky. It +was given to me by a naval officer who got drowned. It's the only way I +can h-h-help you!"</p> + +<p>And thus equipped I started bravely for New York.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1011" id="Page_1011">[Pg 1011]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>In the directory I found eleven pages of Joneses; three hundred and +eighty-four Henry Joneses; and (excluding seventeen dentists) +eighty-seven Doctor Henry Joneses. I asked one of the typists in the +office to copy out the list, and prepared to wade in. We were on the eve +of a labor war, and it was exceedingly difficult for me to get away. As +the managing partner of Hodge & Westoby, boxers (not punching boxers, +nor China boxers, but just plain American box-making boxers), I had to +bear the brunt of the whole affair, and had about as much spare time as +you could heap on a ten-cent piece. I had to be firm, conciliatory, +defiant and tactful all at once, and every hour I took off for Jonesing +threatened to blow the business sky-high. It was a tight place and no +mistake, and it was simply jack-rabbit hindleg luck that pulled me +through!</p> + +<p>My first Jones was a hoary old rascal above a drug store. He was a hard +man to get away from, and made such a fuss about my wasting his time +with idle questions that I flung him a dollar and departed. He followed +me down to my cab and insisted on sticking in a giant bottle of his +Dog-Root Tonic. I dropped it overboard a few blocks farther on, and +thought that was the end of it till the whole street began to yell at +me, and a policeman grabbed my horse, while a street arab darted up +breathless with the Dog-Root Tonic. I presented it to him, together with +a quarter, the policeman darkly regarding me as an incipient madman.</p> + +<p>The second Jones was a man of about thirty, a nice, gentlemanly fellow, +in a fine office. I have usually been an off-hand man in business, +accustomed to quick decisions and very little beating about the bush. +But I confess I was rather nonplussed with the second Jones. How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1012" id="Page_1012">[Pg 1012]</a></span> the +devil was I to <i>begin</i>? His waiting-room was full of people, and I +hardly felt entitled to sit down and gas about one thing and the other +till the chance offered of leading up to the Van Coorts. So I said I had +some queer, shooting sensations in the chest. In five minutes he had me +half-stripped and was pounding my midriff in. And the questions that man +asked! He began with my grandparents, roamed through my childhood and +youth, dissected my early manhood, and finally came down to coffee and +what I ate for breakfast.</p> + +<p>Then it was my turn.</p> + +<p>I asked him, as a starter, whether he had ever been in Colorado?</p> + +<p>No, he hadn't.</p> + +<p>After forty-five minutes of being hammered, and stethoscoped, and +punched, and holding my breath till I was purple, and hopping on one +leg, he said I was a very obscure case of something with nine syllables!</p> + +<p>"At least, I won't be positive with one examination," he said; "but +kindly come to-morrow at nine, when I shall be more at leisure to go +into the matter thoroughly."</p> + +<p>I paid him ten dollars and went sorrowfully away.</p> + +<p>The third Jones was too old to be my man; so was the fourth; the fifth +had gone away the month before, leaving no address; the sixth, however, +was younger and more promising. I thought this time I'd choose something +easier than pains in the chest. I changed them to my left hand. I was +going to keep my clothes on, anyhow. But it wasn't any use. Off they +came. After a decent interval of thumping and grandfathers, and what I +had for breakfast, I managed to get in my question:</p> + +<p>"Ever in Colorado, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me, no!"</p> + +<p>Another ten dollars, and nothing accomplished!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1013" id="Page_1013">[Pg 1013]</a></span></p> + +<p>The seventh Jones was again too old; the eighth was a pale hobbledehoy; +the ninth was a loathsome quack; the tenth had died that morning; the +eleventh was busy; the twelfth was a veterinary surgeon; the thirteenth +was an intern living at home with his widowed sister. Colorado? No, the +widowed sister was positive he had never been there. The fourteenth was +a handsome fellow of about thirty-five. He looked poor and threadbare, +and I had a glimpse of a shabby bed behind a screen. Patients obviously +did not often come his way, and his joy at seeing me was pitiful. I had +meant to try a bluff and get in my Colorado question this time free of +charge; but I hadn't the heart to do it. Slight pains in the head seemed +a safe complaint.</p> + +<p>After a few questions he said he would have to make a thorough physical +examination.</p> + +<p>"No clothes off!" I protested.</p> + +<p>"It's essential," he said, and went on with something about the +radio-activity of the brain, and the vasomotor centers. The word motor +made me feel like a sick automobile. I begged to keep my clothes on; I +insisted; I promised to come to-morrow; but it wasn't any good, and in a +few minutes he was hitting me harder than either of the two before. +Maybe I was more tender! He electrocuted me extra from a switchboard, +ran red-hot needles into my legs, and finally, after banging me around +the room, said I was the strongest and wellest man who had ever entered +his office.</p> + +<p>"There's a lot of make-believe in medicine," he said; "but I'm one of +those poor devils who can't help telling a patient the truth. There's +nothing whatever the matter with you, Mr. Westoby, except that your skin +has a slightly abrased look, and I seem to notice an abnormal +sensitiveness to touch."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1014" id="Page_1014">[Pg 1014]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Were you ever in Colorado, Doctor?" I asked while he was good enough to +help me into my shirt.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know Colorado well!"</p> + +<p>My heart beat high.</p> + +<p>"Some friends of mine were out there three years ago," I said. "Wouldn't +it be strange if by any chance the Van Coorts—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I left Denver when I was fifteen."</p> + +<p>Five dollars!</p> + +<p>The fifteenth Jones was a doctor of divinity; the sixteenth was a +tapeworm specialist; the seventeenth was too old, the eighteenth was too +old, the nineteenth was too old—a trio of disappointing patriarchs. The +twentieth painted out black eyes; the twenty-first was a Russian who +could scarcely speak any English. He said he had changed his name from +Karaforvochristophervitch to something more suited to American +pronunciation. He seemed to think that Jones gave him a better chance. I +sincerely hope it did. He told me that all the rest of the Jones family +was in Siberia, but that he was going to bomb them out! The +twenty-second was a negro. The twenty-third—! He was a tall, youngish +man, narrow-shouldered, rather commonplace-looking, with beautiful blue +eyes, and a timid, winning, deprecatory manner. I told him I was +suffering from insomnia. After raking over my grandfathers again and +bringing the family history down by stages to the very moment I was +shown into his office he said he should have to ask me to undergo a +thorough physical—! But I was tired of being slapped and punched and +breathed on and prodded, and was bold enough to refuse point-blank. I'd +rather have the insomnia! We worked up quite a fuss about it, for there +was something tenacious in the fellow, for all his mild, kind, gentle +ways; and I had all I could do to get off by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1015" id="Page_1015">[Pg 1015]</a></span> pleading press of +business. But I wasn't to escape scot-free. Medical science had to get +even somehow. He compromised by stinging my eye out with belladonna. +Have <i>you</i> ever had belladonna squirted in <i>your</i> eye? Well, don't.</p> + +<p>He was sitting at the table, writing out some cabalistic wiggles that +stood for bromide of potassium, when I remarked casually that it was +strange how well I could always sleep in Colorado.</p> + +<p>He laid down the pen with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"A wonderful state—Colorado," I observed.</p> + +<p>"To me it's the land of memories," he said. "Sad, beautiful, irrevocable +memories—try tea for breakfast—do you read Browning? Then you will +remember that line: 'Oh, if I—' And I insist on your giving up that +cocktail before dinner."</p> + +<p>"Some very dear friends of mine were once in Colorado," I said. +"Morristown people—the Van Coorts."</p> + +<p>"The Van Coorts!"</p> + +<p>Doctor Jones sprang from his chair, his thin, handsome face flushing +with excitement.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that you know Eleanor Van Coort?" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"All my life."</p> + +<p>He dropped back into the chair again and mumbled something about cigars. +I was only to have blank a day. In his perturbation I believe he limited +me to a daily box. He was trying—and trying very badly—to conceal the +emotions I had conjured up.</p> + +<p>"They were talking about you only yesterday," I went on. "That is, if it +<i>was</i> you! A Pullman drawing-room—"</p> + +<p>"And a mistake about the tickets," he broke out. "Yes, yes, it's they +all right. Talking about me, did you say? Did Eleanor—I mean, did Miss +Van Coort—express—?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1016" id="Page_1016">[Pg 1016]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She was wondering how she could find you," I said. "You see, they're +busy getting up a house-party and she was running over her men. 'If I +only knew where that dear Doctor Jones was,' she said, and then asked +me, if by any possible chance—"</p> + +<p>His fine blue eyes were glistening with all sorts of tender thoughts. It +was really touching. And I was in love myself, you know.</p> + +<p>"So she has remained unmarried!" he exclaimed softly. "Unmarried—after +all these years!"</p> + +<p>"She's a very popular girl," I said. "She's had dozens of men at her +feet—but an unfortunate attachment, something that seems to go back to +about three years ago, has apparently determined her to stay out of the +game!"</p> + +<p>Doctor Jones dropped his head on his hands and murmured something that +sounded like "Eleanor, Eleanor!" Then he looked up with one of the most +radiant smiles I ever saw on a man's face. "I hope I'm not presuming on +a very short acquaintance," he said, "but the fact is—why should I not +tell you?—Miss Van Coort was the woman in my life!"</p> + +<p>I explained to him that Freddy was the woman in mine.</p> + +<p>Then you ought to have seen us fraternize!</p> + +<p>In twenty minutes I had him almost convinced that Eleanor had loved him +all these years. But he worried a lot about a Mr. Wise who had been on +the same train, and a certain Colonel Hadow who had also paid Eleanor +attention. Jones was a great fellow for wanting to be sure. I +pooh-poohed them out of the way and gave him the open track. Then, +indeed, the clouds rolled away. He beamed with joy. In his rich gush of +friendship he recurred to the subject of my insomnia with a new-born +enthusiasm. He subdivided all my symptoms. He dived again into my +physical being. He consulted German au<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1017" id="Page_1017">[Pg 1017]</a></span>thorities. I squirmed and lied +and resisted all I could, but he said he owed me an eternal debt that +could only be liquidated by an absolute cure. He wanted to tie me up and +shoot me with an X-ray. He ordered me to wear white socks. He had a +long, terrifying look at a drop of my blood. He jerked hairs out of my +head to sample my nerve force. He said I was a baffling subject, but +that he meant to make me well if it took the last shot in the scientific +locker. And he wound up at last by refusing point-blank to be paid a +cent!</p> + +<p>I waltzed away on air to write an account of the whole affair to Freddy, +and dictate a plan of operations. I was justified in feeling proud of +myself. Most men would have tamely submitted to their fate instead of +chasing up all the Joneses of Jonesville! Freddy sent me an early +answer—a gay, happy, overflowing little note—telling me to try and +engage Doctor Jones for a three-day house-party at Morristown. I was to +telegraph when he could come, and was promised an official invitation +from Mrs. Matthewman. (She was the aunt, you know, that they lived +with—one of those old porcelain ladies with a lace cap and a +rent-roll.) However, I could not do anything for two days, for we had +reached a crisis in the labor troubles, and matters were approaching the +breaking point. We were threatened with one of those "sympathetic" +strikes that drive business men crazy. There was no question at issue +between ourselves and our employes; but the thing ramified off somewhere +to the sugar vacuum-boiler riveters' union. Finally the S.V.B.R.U. came +to a settlement with their bosses, and peace was permitted to descend on +Hodge & Westoby's.</p> + +<p>I took immediate advantage of it to descend myself on Doctor Jones. He +received me with open arms and an insomniacal outburst. He had been +reading up; he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1018" id="Page_1018">[Pg 1018]</a></span> been seeing distinguished confrères; he had been +mastering the subject to the last dot, and was panting to begin. I hated +to dampen such friendship and ardor by telling him that I had completely +recovered. Under the circumstances it seemed brutal—but I did it. The +poor fellow tried to argue with me, but I insisted that I now slept like +a top. It sounded horribly ungrateful. Here I was spurning the treasures +of his mind, and almost insulting him with my disgusting good health. I +swerved off to the house-party; Eleanor's delight, and so on; Mrs. +Matthewman's pending invitation; the hope that he might have an early +date free—</p> + +<p>He listened to it all in silence, walking restlessly about the office, +his blue eyes shining with a strange light. He took up a bronze +paper-weight and gazed at it with an intensity of self-absorption.</p> + +<p>"I can't go," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you have to," I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Westoby," he resumed, "I was foolish enough to back a friend's +credit at a store here. He has skipped to Minnesota, and I am left with +three hundred and four dollars and seventy-five cents to pay. To take a +three days' holiday would be a serious matter to me at any time, but at +this moment it is impossible."</p> + +<p>I gave him a good long look. He didn't strike me as a borrowing kind of +man. I should probably insult him by volunteering. Was there ever +anything so unfortunate?</p> + +<p>"I can't go," he repeated with a little choke.</p> + +<p>"You may never have another opportunity," I said. "Eleanor is doing a +thing I should never have expected from one of her proud and reserved +nature. The advances of such a woman—"</p> + +<p>He interrupted me with a groan.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1019" id="Page_1019">[Pg 1019]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If it wasn't for my mother I'd throw everything to the winds and fly to +her," he burst out. "But I have a mother—a sainted mother, Mr. +Westoby—her welfare must always be my first consideration!"</p> + +<p>"Is there no chance of anything turning up?" I said. "An appendicitis +case—an outbreak of measles? I thought there was a lot of scarlatina +just now."</p> + +<p>He shook his head dejectedly.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," I began again, "I am pretty well fixed myself. I'm blessed +with an income that runs to five figures. If all goes the way it should +we shall be brothers-in-law in six months. We are almost relations. Give +me the privilege of taking over this small obligation—"</p> + +<p>I never saw a man so overcome. My proposal seemed to tear the poor devil +to pieces. When he spoke his voice was trembling.</p> + +<p>"You don't know what it means to me to refuse," he said. "My +self-respect ... my—my...." And then he positively began to weep!</p> + +<p>"You said three hundred and four dollars and seventy-five cents, I +believe?"</p> + +<p>He waved it from him with a long, lean hand.</p> + +<p>"I can not do it," he said; "and, for God's sake, don't ask me to!"</p> + +<p>I argued with him for twenty minutes; I laid the question before him in +a million lights; I racked him with a picture of Eleanor, so deeply +hurt, so mortified, that in her recklessness and despair she would +probably throw herself away on the first man that offered! This was his +chance, I told him; the one chance of his life; he was letting a piece +of idiotic pride wreck the probable happiness of years. He agreed with +me with moans and weeps. He had the candor of a child and the torrential +sentiment of a German musician. Three hundred and four dollars<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1020" id="Page_1020">[Pg 1020]</a></span> and +seventy-five cents stood between him and eternal bliss, and yet he waved +my pocketbook from him! And all the while I saw myself losing Freddy.</p> + +<p>I went away with his "no, no, no!" still ringing in my ears.</p> + +<p>At the club I found a note from Freddy. She pressed me to lose no time. +Mrs. Matthewman was talking of going to Europe, and of course she and +Eleanor would have to accompany her. Eleanor, she said, had ordered two +new gowns and had brightened up wonderfully. "Only yesterday she told me +she wished that silly doctor would hurry up and come—and that, you +know, from Eleanor is almost a declaration!"</p> + +<p>Some of my best friends happened to be in the club. It occurred to me +that poor Nevill was diabetic, and that Charley Crossman had been boring +everybody about his gout. I buttonholed them both, and laid my +unfortunate predicament before them. I said I'd pay all the expenses. In +fact, the more they could make it cost the better I'd be pleased.</p> + +<p>"What," roared Nevill, "put myself in the hands of a young fool so that +he may fill his empty pockets with your money! Where do <i>I</i> come in? +Good heavens, Westoby, you're crazy! Think what would happen to me if it +came to Doctor Saltworthy's ears? He'd never have anything more to do +with me!"</p> + +<p>Charley Crossman was equally rebellious and unreasonable.</p> + +<p>"I guess you've never had the gout," he said grimly.</p> + +<p>"But Charley, old man," I pleaded, "all that you'd have to do would be +to let him <i>talk</i> to you. I don't ask you to suffer for it. Just +pay—that's all—pay my money!"</p> + +<p>"I'm awfully easily talked into things," said Charley. (There was never +such a mule on the Produce Ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1021" id="Page_1021">[Pg 1021]</a></span>change.) "He'd be saying, 'Take this'—and +I'm the kind of blankety-blank fool that would take it!"</p> + +<p>Then I did a mean thing. I reminded Crossman of having backed some bills +of his—big bills, too—at a time when it was touch and go whether he'd +manage to keep his head above water.</p> + +<p>"Westoby," he replied, "don't think that time has lessened my sense of +that obligation. I'd cut off my right hand to do you a good turn. But +for heaven's sake, don't ask me to monkey with my gout!"</p> + +<p>The best I could get out of him was the promise of an anemic +servant-girl. Nevill generously threw in a groom with varicose veins. +Small contributions, but thankfully received.</p> + +<p>"Now, what you do," said Nevill, "is to go round right off and interview +Bishop Jordan. He has sick people to burn!"</p> + +<p>But I said Jones would get on to it if I deluged him with the misery of +the slums.</p> + +<p>"That's just where the bishop comes in," said Nevill. "There isn't a man +more in touch with the saddest kind of poverty in New York—the decent, +clean, shrinking poverty that hides away from all the dead-head coffee +and doughnuts. If I was in your fix I'd fall over myself to reach +Jordan!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you try Jordan," said Charley, who, I'm sure, had never heard of +him before.</p> + +<p>"Then it's me for Jordan," said I.</p> + +<p>I went down stairs and told one of the bell-boys to look up the address +in the telephone-book. It seemed to me he looked pale, that boy.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you well, Dan?" I said.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what's the matter with me, sir. I guess it must be the +night work."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1022" id="Page_1022">[Pg 1022]</a></span></p> + +<p>I gave him a five-dollar bill and made him write down 1892 Eighth Avenue +on a piece of paper.</p> + +<p>"You go and see Doctor Jones first thing," I said. "And don't mention my +name, nor spend the money on <i>Her Mad Marriage</i>."</p> + +<p>I jumped into a hansom with a pleasant sense that I was beginning to +make the fur fly.</p> + +<p>"That's a horrible cold of yours, Cabby," I said as we stopped at the +bishop's door and I handed him up a dollar bill. "That's just the kind +of a cold that makes graveyards hum!"</p> + +<p>"I can't shake it off, sir," he said despondently. "Try what I can, and +it's never no use!"</p> + +<p>"There's one doctor in the world who can cure anything," I said; "Doctor +Henry Jones, 1892 Eighth Avenue. I was worse than you two weeks ago, and +now look at me! Take this five dollars, and for heaven's sake, man, put +yourself in his hands quick."</p> + +<p>Bishop Jordan was a fine type of modern clergyman. He was +broad-shouldered mentally as well as physically, and he brought to +philanthropic work the thoroughness, care, enthusiasm and capacity that +would have earned him a fortune in business.</p> + +<p>"Bishop," I said, "I've come to see if I can't make a trade with you!"</p> + +<p>He raised his grizzled eyebrows and gave me a very searching look.</p> + +<p>"A trade," he repeated in a holding-back kind of tone, as though +wondering what the trap was.</p> + +<p>"Here's a check for one thousand dollars drawn to your order," I went +on. "And here's the address of Doctor Henry Jones, 1892 Eighth Avenue. I +want this money to reach him via your sick people, and that without my +name being known or at all suspected."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1023" id="Page_1023">[Pg 1023]</a></span></p> + +<p>"May I not ask the meaning of so peculiar a request?"</p> + +<p>"He's hard up," I said, "and I want to help him. It occurred to me that +I might make you—er—a confederate in my little game, you know."</p> + +<p>His eyes twinkled as he slowly folded up my check and put it in his +pocket.</p> + +<p>"I don't want any economy about it, Bishop," I went on. "I don't want to +make the best use of it, or anything of that kind. I want to slap it +into Doctor Jones' till, and slap it in quick."</p> + +<p>"Would you consider two weeks—?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, one, please!"</p> + +<p>"It is understood, of course, that this young man is a duly qualified +and capable physician, and that in the event of my finding it otherwise +I shall be at liberty to direct your check to other uses?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can answer for his being all right, Bishop. He's thoroughly +up-to-date, you know; does the X-ray act; and keeps the pace of modern +science."</p> + +<p>"You say you can answer for him," said the bishop genially. "Might I +inquire who <i>you</i> are?"</p> + +<p>"I'm named Westoby—Ezra Westoby—managing partner of Hodge & Westoby, +boxers."</p> + +<p>"I like boxers," said the bishop in the tone of a benediction, rising to +dismiss me. "I like one thousand dollar checks, too. When you have any +more to spare just give them a fair wind in this direction!"</p> + +<p>I went out feeling that the Episcopal Church had risen fifty per cent. +in my esteem. Bishops like that would make a success of any +denomination. I like to see a fellow who's on to his job.</p> + +<p>I gave Jones a week to grapple with the new developments, and then +happened along. The anteroom was full, and there was a queue down the +street like a line of mu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1024" id="Page_1024">[Pg 1024]</a></span>sic-loving citizens waiting to hear Patti. +Nice, decent-looking people, with money in their hands. (I always like +to see a cash business, don't you?) I guess it took me an hour to crowd +my way up stairs, and even then I had to buy a man out of the line.</p> + +<p>Jones was carrying off the boom more quietly than I cared about. He wore +a curt, snappy air. I don't know why, but I felt misgivings as I shook +hands with him.</p> + +<p>Of course I commented on the rush.</p> + +<p>"The Lord only knows what's happened to my practice," he said. "The +blamed thing has gone up like a rocket. It seems to me there must be a +great wave of sickness passing over New York just now."</p> + +<p>"Everybody's complaining," I said.</p> + +<p>This reminded him of my insomnia till I cut him short.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with our going down to the Van Coorts' from Saturday +to Tuesday," I said. "They haven't given up the hope of seeing you +there, Doctor, and the thing's still open."</p> + +<p>Then I waited for him to jump with joy.</p> + +<p>He didn't jump a bit. He shook his head. He distinctly said "No."</p> + +<p>"I told you it was the money side of it that bothered me," he explained. +"So it was at the time, for, of course, I couldn't foresee that my +practice was going to fill the street and call for policemen to keep +order. But, my dear Westoby, after giving the subject a great deal of +consideration I have come to the conclusion that it would be too painful +for me to revive those—those—unhappy emotions I was just beginning to +recover from!"</p> + +<p>"I thought you loved her!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"That's why I've determined not to go," he said. "I have outlived one +refusal. How do I know I have the strength, the determination, the +hardihood to undergo the agonies of another?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1025" id="Page_1025">[Pg 1025]</a></span></p> + +<p>It seemed a feeble remark to say that faint heart never won fair lady. I +growled it out more like a swear than anything else. I was disgusted +with the chump.</p> + +<p>"She's the star above me," he said; "and I am crushed by my own +presumption. Is there any such fool as the man that breaks his heart +twice for the impossible?"</p> + +<p>"But it isn't impossible," I cried. "Hasn't she—as far as a woman +can—hasn't she called you back to her? What more do you expect her to +do? A woman's delicacy forbids her screaming for a man! I think Eleanor +has already gone a tremendous way in just hinting—"</p> + +<p>"You may be right," he said pathetically; "but then you may also be +wrong. The risk is too terrible for me to run. It will comfort me all my +life to think that perhaps she does love me in secret!"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say you're going to give it all up?" I roared.</p> + +<p>"You needn't get so warm about it," he returned. "After all, I have some +justification in thinking she doesn't care."</p> + +<p>"What on earth do you suppose she invited you for, then?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it would be different," he said, "if I had a note from her—a +flower—some little tender reminder of those dear old dead days in the +Pullman!"</p> + +<p>"She's saving up all that for Morristown," I said.</p> + +<p>For the first time in our acquaintance Doctor Jones looked at me with +suspicion. His blue eyes clouded. He was growing a little restive under +my handling.</p> + +<p>"You seem to make the matter a very personal one," he observed.</p> + +<p>"Well, I love Freddy," I explained. "It naturally brings your own case +very close to me. And then I am so positive that you love Eleanor and +that Eleanor loves you.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1026" id="Page_1026">[Pg 1026]</a></span> Put yourself in my place, Doctor! Do you mean +that you'd do nothing to bring two such noble hearts together?"</p> + +<p>He seized my hand and wrung it effusively. He really <i>did</i> love Eleanor, +you know. The only fault with him was his being so darned humble about +it. He was eaten up with a sense of his own inferiority. And yet I could +see he was just tingling to go to Morristown. Of course, I crowded him +all I could, but the best I could accomplish was his promise to "think +it over." I hated to leave him wabbling, but patients were scuffling at +the door and fighting on the stairs.</p> + +<p>The next thing I did was to get Freddy on the long-distance 'phone.</p> + +<p>"Freddy," I said, after explaining the situation, "you must get Eleanor +to telegraph to him direct!"</p> + +<p>"What's the good of asking what she won't do?" bubbled the sweet little +voice.</p> + +<p>"Can't you persuade her?"</p> + +<p>"I know she won't do it!"</p> + +<p>"Then you must forge it," I said desperately. "It needn't be anything +red-hot, you know. But something tender and sincere: 'Shall be awfully +disappointed if you don't come,' or, 'There was a time when you would +not have failed me!'"</p> + +<p>"It's impossible."</p> + +<p>"Then he won't budge a single inch!" I replied.</p> + +<p>"Ezra?"</p> + +<p>"Darling!"</p> + +<p>"Suppose I just signed the telegram Van Coort?"</p> + +<p>"The very thing!"</p> + +<p>"If he misunderstood it—I mean if he thought it really came from +Eleanor—there couldn't be any fuss about it afterward, could there?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1027" id="Page_1027">[Pg 1027]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And, of course, you'll send the official invitation from Mrs. +Matthewman besides?"</p> + +<p>"For Saturday?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Saturday!"</p> + +<p>"And <i>you'll</i> come?"</p> + +<p>"Just watch me!"</p> + +<p>"Ezra, are you happy?"</p> + +<p>"That depends on Jones."</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't it exciting?"</p> + +<p>"I have the ring in my pocket—"</p> + +<p>"But touch wood, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Freddy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with getting some forget-me-nots and mailing them to +Jones in an envelope?"</p> + +<p>"All right, I'll attend to it. Eighteen ninety-two Eighth Avenue, isn't +it?"</p> + +<p>"Be sure it <i>is</i> forget-me-nots, you know. Don't mix up the language of +flowers, and send him one that says: 'I'm off with a handsomer man,' or, +'You needn't come round any more!'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ezra, Eleanor is really getting quite worked up!"</p> + +<p>"So am I!"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be perfectly splendid if—Switch off quick, here's aunt +coming!"</p> + +<p>"Mayn't I even say I love you?"</p> + +<p>"I daren't say it back, Ezra—she's calling."</p> + +<p>"But <i>do</i> you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, unfortunately—"</p> + +<p>"Why unfortun—?"</p> + +<p>Buzz-buzz-swizzleum-bux-bux!—Aunt had cut us off. However, short as my +talk with Freddy had been, it brightened my whole day.</p> + +<p>Late the same afternoon I went back to Doctor Jones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1028" id="Page_1028">[Pg 1028]</a></span> I was prepared to +find him uplifted, but I hadn't counted on his being maudlin. The fellow +was drunk, positively drunk—with happiness. His tongue ran on like a +mill-stream. I had to sit down and have the whole Pullman-car episode +inflicted on me a second time. I was shown the receipt-slip. I was shown +the telegram from Eleanor. I was shown with a whoop the forget-me-nots! +Then he was going on Saturday? I asked. He said he guessed it would take +an earthquake to keep him away, and a pretty big earthquake, too!... Oh, +it was a great moment, and all the greater because I was tremendously +worked up, too. I saw Freddy floating before me, my sweet, girlish, +darling Freddy, holding out her arms ... while Jones gassed and gassed +and gassed....</p> + +<p>I left him taking phenacetin for his headache.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>The house-party had grown a little larger than was originally intended. +On Saturday night we sat down twelve to dinner. Doctor Jones and I +shared a room together, and I must say whatever misgivings I might have +had about him wore away very quickly on closer acquaintance. In the +first place he looked well in evening dress, carrying himself with a +sort of shy, kind air that became him immensely. At table he developed +the greatest of conversational gifts—that of the appreciative and +intelligent listener. I heard one of the guests asking Eleanor who was +that charming young man. Freddy and I hugged each other (I mean +metaphorically, of course) and gloried in his success. In the presence +of an admirer (such is the mystery of women) Eleanor instantly got +fifteen points better looking, and you wouldn't have known her for the +same girl. Freddy thought it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1029" id="Page_1029">[Pg 1029]</a></span> was the two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar gown +she wore, but I could see it was deeper than that. She was thawing in +the sunshine of love, and I'll do Doctor Jones the justice to say that +he didn't hide his affection under a bushel. It was generous enough for +everybody to bask in, and in his pell-mell ardor he took us all to his +bosom. The women loved him for it, and entered into a tacit conspiracy +to gain him the right-of-way to wherever Eleanor was to be found. In +fact, he followed her about like a dog, and she could scarcely move +without stepping on him.</p> + +<p>Sunday was even better. One of the housemaids drank some wood-alcohol by +mistake for vichy water, and the resulting uproar redounded to Jones' +coolness, skill and despatch. He dominated the situation and—well, I +won't describe it, this not being a medical work, and the reader +probably being a good guesser. Mrs. Matthewman remarked significantly +that it must be nice to be the wife of a medical man—one would always +have the safe feeling of a doctor at hand in case anything happened at +night! Eleanor said it was a beautiful profession that had for its +object the alleviation of human pain. Freddy jealously tried to get in a +good word for boxers, but nobody would listen to her except me. It was +all Jones, Jones, Jones, and the triumphs of modern medicine. Altogether +he sailed through that whole day with flying colors, first with the +housemaid, and then afterward at church, where he was the only one that +knew what Sunday after Epiphany it was. He made it plainer than ever +that he was a model young man and a pattern. Mrs. Matthewman compared +him to her departed husband, and talked about old-fashioned courtesy and +the splendid men of her youth. Everybody fell over everybody else to +praise him. It was a regular Jones boom. People<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1030" id="Page_1030">[Pg 1030]</a></span> began to write down his +address, and ask him if he'd be free Thursday, or what about Friday, and +started to book seats in advance.</p> + +<p>That evening, as I was washing my hands before dinner and cheerfully +whistling <i>Hiawatha</i>, I became conscious that Jones was lolling back on +a sofa at the dark end of the room. What particularly arrested my +attention was a groan—preceded by a pack of heartrending sighs. It +worried me—when everything seemed to be going so well. He had every +right to be whistling <i>Hiawatha</i>, too.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Jones?" said I.</p> + +<p>He keeled over on the sofa, and groaned louder than ever.</p> + +<p>"It isn't possible—that she's refused you?" I exclaimed. He muttered +something about his mother.</p> + +<p>"Well, what about your mother?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Westoby," he returned, "I guess I was the worst kind of fool ever to +put my foot into this house."</p> + +<p>That was nice news, wasn't it? Just as I was settling in my head to buy +that Seventy-second Street place, and alter the basement into a garage!</p> + +<p>"You see, old man, my mother would never consent to my marrying Eleanor. +I'm in the position of having to choose between her and the woman I +love. And I owe so much to my mother, Westoby. She stinted herself for +years to get me through college; she hardly had enough to eat; she...." +Then he groaned a lot more.</p> + +<p>"I can't think that your mother—a mother like yours, Jones—would +consent to stand between you and your lifelong happiness. It's +morbid—that's what I call it—morbid, just to dream of such a thing."</p> + +<p>"There's Bertha," he quavered.</p> + +<p>"Great Scott, and who's Bertha?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1031" id="Page_1031">[Pg 1031]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The girl my mother chose for me two years ago—Bertha McNutt, you know. +She'd really prefer me not to marry at all, but if I must—it's Bertha, +Westoby—Bertha or nothing!"</p> + +<p>"It's too late to say that now, old fellow."</p> + +<p>"It's not too late for me to go home this very night."</p> + +<p>"Well, Jones," I broke out, "I can't think you'd do such a caddish thing +as that. Think it over for a minute. You come down here; you sweep that +unfortunate girl off her feet; you make love to her with the fury of a +stage villain; you force her to betray her very evident partiality for +you—and then you have the effrontery to say: 'Good-by. I'm off.'"</p> + +<p>"My mother—" he began.</p> + +<p>"You simply can not act so dishonorably, Jones."</p> + +<p>He sat silent for a little while.</p> + +<p>"My mother—" he started in again finally.</p> + +<p>"Surely your mother loves you?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>"That's the terrible part of it, Westoby, she—"</p> + +<p>"Pooh!"</p> + +<p>"She stinted herself to get me through col—"</p> + +<p>"Then why did you ever come here?"</p> + +<p>"That's just the question I'm asking myself now."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that you have any right to assume all that about your mother, +anyway. Eleanor Van Coort is a woman of a thousand—unimpeachable social +position—a little fortune of her own—accomplished, handsome, charming, +sought after—why, if you managed to win such a girl as that your mother +would walk on air."</p> + +<p>"No, she wouldn't. Bertha—"</p> + +<p>"You're a pretty cheap lover," I said. "I don't set up to be a little +tin hero, but I'd go through fire and water for <i>my</i> girl. Good heavens, +love is love, and all the mothers—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1032" id="Page_1032">[Pg 1032]</a></span></p> + +<p>He let out a few more groans.</p> + +<p>"Then, see here, Jones," I went on, "you owe some courtesy to our +hostess. If you went away to-night it would be an insult. Whatever you +decide to do later, you've simply got to stay here till Tuesday +morning!"</p> + +<p>"Must I?" he said, in the tone of a person who is ordered not to leave +the sinking ship.</p> + +<p>"A gentleman has to," I said.</p> + +<p>He quavered out a sort of acquiescence, and then asked me for the loan +of a white tie. I should have loved to give him a bowstring instead, +with somebody who knew how to operate it. He was a fluff, that fellow—a +tarnation fluff!</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>It was a pretty glum evening all round. Most of them thought that Jones +had got the chilly mitt. Eleanor looked pale and undecided, not knowing +what to make of Jones' death's-head face. She was resentful and pitying +in turns, and I saw all the material lying around for a first-class +conflagration. Freddy was a bit down on me, too, saying that a smoother +method would have ironed out Jones, and that I had been headlong and +silly. She cried over it, and wouldn't kiss me in the dark; and I was +goaded into saying—well, the course of true love ran in bumps that +night. There was only one redeeming circumstance, and that was my +managing to keep Jones and Eleanor apart. I mean that I insisted on +being number three till at last poor Eleanor said she had a headache, +and forlornly went up to bed.</p> + +<p>Jones was still asleep when I got up the next morning at six and dressed +myself quietly so as not to awake him. It was now Monday, and you can +see for yourself there was no time to spare. I gave the butler a dollar, +and or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1033" id="Page_1033">[Pg 1033]</a></span>dered him to say that unexpected business had called me away +without warning, but that I should be back by luncheon. I rather overdid +the earliness of it all. At least, I hove off 1892 Eighth Avenue at +eight-fifteen <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> I loitered about; looked at pawnshop windows; gave a +careful examination to a forty-eight-dollar-ninety-eight-cent complete +outfit for a four-room flat; had a chat with a policeman; assisted at a +runaway; advanced a nickel to a colored gentleman in distress; had my +shoes shined by another; helped a child catch an escaped parrot—and +still it wasn't nine! Idleness is a grinding occupation, especially on +Eighth Avenue in the morning.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones was a thin, straight-backed, brisk old lady, with a keen +tongue, and a Yankee faculty for coming to the point. I besought her +indulgence, and laid the whole Eleanor matter before her—at least, as +much of it as seemed wise. I appeared in the rôle of her son's warmest +admirer and best friend.</p> + +<p>"Surely you won't let Harry ruin his life from a mistaken sense of his +duty to you?"</p> + +<p>"Duty, fiddlesticks!" said she. "He's going to marry Bertha McNutt!"</p> + +<p>"But he doesn't want to marry Bertha McNutt!"</p> + +<p>"Then he needn't marry anybody."</p> + +<p>She seemed to think this a triumphant answer. Indeed, in some ways I +must confess it was. But still I persevered.</p> + +<p>"It puts me out to have him shilly-shallying around like this," she +said. "I'll give him a good talking to when he gets back. This other +arrangement has been understood between Mrs. McNutt and myself for +years."</p> + +<p>She was an irritating person. I found it not a little difficult to keep +my temper with her. It's easier to fight dragons than to temporize with +them and appeal to their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1034" id="Page_1034">[Pg 1034]</a></span> better nature. I appealed and appealed. She +watched me with the same air of interested detachment that one gives to +a squirrel revolving in a cage. I could feel that she was flattered; her +sense of power was agreeably tickled; my earnestness and despair +enhanced the zest of her reiterated refusals. I was a very nice young +man, but her son was going to marry Bertha McNutt or marry nobody!</p> + +<p>Then I tried to draw a lurid picture of his revolt from her +apron-strings.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Harry's a good boy," she said. "You can't make me believe that two +days has altered his whole character. I'll answer for his doing what I +want."</p> + +<p>I felt a precisely similar conviction, and my heart sank into my shoes.</p> + +<p>At this moment there was a tap at the door, and another old lady bounced +in. She was stout, jolly-looking and effusive. The greetings between the +pair were warm, and they were evidently old friends. But underneath the +new-comer's gush and noise I was dimly conscious of a sort of gay +hostility. She was exultant and frightened, both at once, and her eyes +were sparkling.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you think?" she cried out explosively.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones' lips tightened. There was a mean streak in that old woman. I +could see she was feeling for her little hatchet, and was getting out +her little gun.</p> + +<p>"Bertha!" exploded the old lady. "Bertha—"</p> + +<p>(Mysterious mental processes at once informed me that this was none +other than Bertha's mother.)</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones was coolly taking aim. I was reminded of that old military +dictum: "Don't shoot till you see the whites of their eyes!"</p> + +<p>"Bertha," vociferated the old lady fiercely—"Bertha has been secretly +married to Mr. Stuffenhammer for the last three months!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1035" id="Page_1035">[Pg 1035]</a></span></p> + +<p>Another series of kinematographic mental processes informed me that Mr. +Stuffenhammer was an immense catch.</p> + +<p>"Twenty thousand dollars a year, and her own carriage," continued Mrs. +McNutt gloatingly. "You could have knocked me down with a feather. +Bertha is such a considerate child; she insisted on marrying secretly so +that she could tone it down by degrees to poor Harry; though there was +no engagement or anything like that, she could not help feeling, of +course, that she owed it to the dear boy to gradually—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones never turned a hair or moved a muscle.</p> + +<p>"You needn't pity Harry," she said. "I've just got the good news that +he's engaged to one of the sweetest and richest girls in Morristown."</p> + +<p>I jumped for my hat and ran.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>You never saw anybody so electrified as Jones. For a good minute he +couldn't even speak. It was like bringing a horseback reprieve to the +hero on the stage. He repeated "Stuffenhammer, Stuffenhammer," in tones +that Henry Irving might have envied, while I gently undid the noose +around his neck. I led him under a tree and told him to buck up. He did +so—slowly and surely—and then began to ask me agitated questions about +proposing. He deferred to me as though I had spent my whole life +Bluebearding through the social system. He wanted to be coached how to +do it, you know. I told him to rip out the words—any old words—and +then kiss her.</p> + +<p>"Don't let there be any embarrassing pause," I said. "A girl hates +pauses."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1036" id="Page_1036">[Pg 1036]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It seems a great liberty," he returned. "It doesn't strike me as +r-r-respectful."</p> + +<p>"You try it," I said. "It's the only way."</p> + +<p>"I'll be glad when it's over," he remarked dreamily.</p> + +<p>"Whatever you do, keep clear of set speeches," I went on. "Blurt it out, +no matter how badly—but with all the fire and ginger in you."</p> + +<p>He gazed at me like a dead calf.</p> + +<p>"Here goes," he said, and started on a trembling walk toward the house.</p> + +<p>I don't know whether he was afraid, or didn't get the chance, or what +it was; but at any rate the afternoon wore on without the least sign +of his coming to time. I kept tab on him as well as I could—checkers +with Miss Drayton—half an hour writing letters—a long talk with the +major—and finally his getting lost altogether in the shrubbery with +an old lady. Freddy said the suspense was killing her, and was terribly +despondent and miserable. I couldn't interest her in the Seventy-second +Street house at all. She asked what was the good of working and +worrying, and figuring and making lists—when in all probability it +would be another girl that would live there. She had an awfully mean +opinion of my constancy, and was intolerably philosophical and +Oh-I-wouldn't-blame-you-the-least-little-bit-if-you-did-go-off-and-marry-somebody-else! +She took a pathetic pleasure in loving me, losing me, and then weeping +over the dear dead memory. She said nobody ever got what they wanted, +anyway; and might she come, when she was old and ugly and faded and +weary, to take care of my children and be a sort of dear old aunty in +the Seventy-second Street house. I said certainly not, and we had a +fight right away.</p> + +<p>As we were dressing for dinner that night I took Jones<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1037" id="Page_1037">[Pg 1037]</a></span> to task, and +tried to stiffen him up. I guess I must have mismanaged it somehow, for +he said he'd thank me to keep my paws out of his affairs, and then went +into the bath-room, where he shaved and growled for ten whole minutes. I +itched to throw a bootjack at him, but compromised on doing a little +growling myself. Afterward we got into our clothes in silence, and as he +went out first he slammed the door.</p> + +<p>It was a disheartening evening. We played progressive uchre for a silly +prize, and we all got shuffled up wrong and had to stay so. Then the +major did amateur conjuring till we nearly died. I was thankful to sneak +out-of-doors and smoke a cigar under the starlight. I walked up and +down, consigning Jones to—well, where I thought he belonged. I thought +of the time I had wasted over the fellow—the good money—the hopes—I +was savage with disappointment, and when I heard Freddy softly calling +me from the veranda I zigzagged away through the trees toward the lodge +gate. There are moments when a man is better left alone. Besides, I was +in one of those self-tormenting humors when it is a positive pleasure to +pile on the agony. When you're eighty-eight per cent. miserable it's +hell not to reach par. I was sore all over, and I wanted the balm—the +consolation—to be found in the company of those cold old stars, who had +looked down in their time on such countless generations of human asses. +It gave me a wonderful sense of fellowship with the past and future.</p> + +<p>I was reflecting on what an infinitesimal speck I was in the general +scheme of things, when I heard the footfall of another human speck, +stumbling through the dark and carrying a dress-suit case. It was Jones +himself, outward bound, and doing five knots an hour. I was after him in +a second, doing six.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1038" id="Page_1038">[Pg 1038]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Jones!" I cried.</p> + +<p>He never even turned round.</p> + +<p>I grabbed him by the arm. He wasn't going to walk away from me like +that.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>"Home!"</p> + +<p>"But say, stop; you can't do that. It's too darned rude. We don't break +up till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I'm breaking up now," he said.</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"Let go my arm—!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, my dear chap—" I began.</p> + +<p>"Don't you dear chap me!"</p> + +<p>We strode on in silence. Even his back looked sullen, and his face under +the gaslights—</p> + +<p>"Westoby," he broke out suddenly, "if there's one thing I'm sensitive +about it is my name. Slap me in the face, turn the hose on me, rip the +coat off my back—and you'd be astounded by my mildness. But when it +comes to my name I—I'm a tiger!"</p> + +<p>"A tiger," I repeated encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"It all went swimmingly," he continued in a tone of angry confidence. +"For five seconds I was the happiest man in the United States. I—I did +everything you said, you know, and I was dumfounded at my own success. +S-s-she loves me, Westoby."</p> + +<p>I gazed inquiringly at the dress-suit case.</p> + +<p>"We don't belong to any common Joneses. We're Connecticut Joneses. In +fact, we're the only Joneses—and the name is as dear to me, as sacred, +as I suppose that of Westoby is, perhaps, to you. And yet—and yet—do +you know what she actually said to me? Said to me, holding my hand, and, +and—that the only thing she didn't like about me was my <i>name</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1039" id="Page_1039">[Pg 1039]</a></span></p> + +<p>I contrived to get out, "Good heavens!" with the proper astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I told her that Van Coort didn't strike me as being anything very +extra."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it have been wiser to—?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, for myself, I'd do anything in the world for her. But a fellow has +to show a little decent pride. A fellow owes something to his family, +doesn't he? As a man I love the ground she walks on; as a Jones—well, +if she feels like that about it—I told her she had better wait for a De +Montmorency."</p> + +<p>"But she didn't say she wouldn't marry you, did she?"</p> + +<p>"N-o-o-o!"</p> + +<p>"She didn't ask you to <i>change</i> your name, did she?"</p> + +<p>"N-o-o-o!"</p> + +<p>"And do you mean to say that just for one unfortunate remark—a remark +that any one might have made in the agitation of the moment—you're +deliberately turning your back on her, and her broken heart!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she's red-hot, too, you know, over what I said about the Van +Coorts."</p> + +<p>"She couldn't have realized that you belonged to the Connecticut +Joneses. <i>I</i> didn't know it. <i>I</i>—"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's all off now," he said.</p> + +<p>It was a mile to the depot. For Jones it was a mile of reproaches, +scoldings, lectures and insults. For myself I shall ever remember it as +the mile of my life. I pleaded, argued, extenuated and explained. My +lifelong happiness—Freddy—the Seventy-second Street house—were +walking away from me in the dark while I jerked unavailingly at Jones' +coat-tails. The whole outfit disappeared into a car, leaving me on the +platform with the ashes of my hopes. Of all obstinate, mulish, +pig-headed, copper-riveted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1040" id="Page_1040">[Pg 1040]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>I was lucky enough to find Eleanor crying softly to herself in a corner +of the veranda. The sight of her tears revived my fainting courage. I +thought of Bruce and the spider, and waded in.</p> + +<p>"Eleanor," I said, "I've just been seeing poor Jones off."</p> + +<p>She sobbed out something to the effect that she didn't care.</p> + +<p>"No, you can't care very much," I said, "or you wouldn't send a man like +that—a splendid fellow—a member of one of the oldest and proudest +families of Connecticut—to his death."</p> + +<p>"Death?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he's off for Japan to-morrow. They're getting through fifty +doctors a week out there at the front. They're shot down faster than +they can set them up."</p> + +<p>I was unprepared for the effect of this on Eleanor. For two cents she +would have fainted then and there. It's awful to hear a woman moan, and +clench her teeth, and pant for breath.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Eleanor, can't you do anything?"</p> + +<p>"I am helpless, Ezra. My pride—my woman's pride—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, how can you let such trifles stand between you? Think of him out +there, in his tattered Japanese uniform—so far from home, so lonely, so +heartbroken—standing undaunted in that rain of steel, while—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ezra, stop! I can't bear it! I can't bear it!"</p> + +<p>"Is the love of three years to be thrown aside like an old glove, just +because—"</p> + +<p>Her face was so wild and strained that the lies froze upon my tongue.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ezra, I could follow him barefooted through the snow if only he—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1041" id="Page_1041">[Pg 1041]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He's leaving Grand Central to-morrow at ten forty-five," I said.</p> + +<p>She fumbled at her neck, and almost tore away the diamond locket that +reposed there.</p> + +<p>"Take him this," she whispered hoarsely. "Take it to him at once, and +say I sent it. Say that I beg him to return—that my pride crumbles at +the thought of his going away so far into danger."</p> + +<p>I put the locket carefully into my pocket.</p> + +<p>"And, Eleanor, try and don't rub him the wrong way about his name. Is it +worth while? There have to be Joneses, you know."</p> + +<p>"Tell him," she burst out, "tell him—oh, I never meant to wound +him—truly, I didn't ... a name that's good enough for him is good +enough for me!"</p> + +<p>The next morning at nine I pulled up my Porcher-Mufflin car before +Jones' door. He was sitting at his table reading a book, and he made no +motion to rise as I came in. He gave me a pale, expressionless stare +instead, such as an ancient Christian might have worn when the call-boy +told him the lions were ready in the Colosseum. Resignation, obstinacy +and defiance—all nicely blended under a turn-the-other-cheek exterior. +He looked woebegone, and his thin, handsome face betrayed a sleepless +night and a breakfastless morning. I could feel that my presence was the +last straw to this unfortunate medical camel.</p> + +<p>I threw in a genial remark about the weather, and took a seat.</p> + +<p>Jones hunched himself together, and squirmed a sad little squirm.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Westoby," he said, "I once made use of a very strong expression in +regard to you. I said, if you remember, that I'd be obliged if you'd +keep your paws—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1042" id="Page_1042">[Pg 1042]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't apologize," I interrupted. "I forgot it long ago."</p> + +<p>"You've taken me up wrong," he continued drearily. "I should like you to +consider the remark repeated now. Yes, sir, repeated."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bosh!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"You have a very tough epidermis," he went on. "Quite the toughest +epidermis I have met with in my whole professional career. A paper +adequately treating your epidermis would make a sensation before any +medical society."</p> + +<p>Somehow I couldn't feel properly insulted. The whole business struck me +as irresistibly comical. I lay back in my chair—my uninvited chair—and +roared with laughter.</p> + +<p>I couldn't forbear asking him what treatment he'd recommend.</p> + +<p>He pointed to the door, and said laconically: "Fresh air."</p> + +<p>I retorted by laying the diamond locket before him.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," I said, as he gazed at it transfixed, "don't let us go +on like a pair of fools. Eleanor charged me to give you this, and beg +you to return."</p> + +<p>I don't believe he heard me at all. That flashing trinket was far more +eloquent than any words of mine. He laid his head in his hands beside +it, and his whole body trembled with emotion. He trembled and trembled, +till finally I got tired of waiting. I poked him in the back, and +reminded him that my car was waiting down stairs. He rose with a +strange, bewildered air, and submitted like a child to be led into the +street. He had the locket clenched in his hand, and every now and then +he would glance at it as though unable to believe his eyes. I shut him +into the tonneau, and took a seat beside my chauffeur.</p> + +<p>"Let her out, James," I said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1043" id="Page_1043">[Pg 1043]</a></span></p> + +<p>James let her out with a vengeance. There was a sunny-haired housemaid +at the Van Coorts' ... and it was a crack, new, four-cylinder car with a +direct drive on the top speed. Off we went like the wind, jouncing poor +Jones around the tonneau like a pea in a pill-box. But he didn't care. +Was he not seraphically whizzing through space, obeying the diamond +telegram of love? In the gentle whizzle and bang of the whole +performance he even ventured to raise his voice in song, and I could +overhear him behind me, adding a lyrical finish to the hum of the +machinery. It was a walloping run, and we only throttled down on the +outskirts of Morristown. You see I had to coach him about that Japanese +war business, or else there might be trouble! So I leaned over the back +seat and gently broke it to him. I thought I had managed it rather well. +I felt sure he could understand, I said, the absolute need of a +little—embellishing and—</p> + +<p>"Let me out," he said.</p> + +<p>I feverishly went on explaining.</p> + +<p>"If you don't let me out I'll climb out," he said, and began to make as +good as his word over the tonneau.</p> + +<p>Of course, there was nothing for it but to stop the car.</p> + +<p>Jones deliberately descended and headed for New York.</p> + +<p>I ran after him, while the chauffeur turned the car round and slowly +followed us both. It was a queer procession. First Jones, then I, then +the car.</p> + +<p>Finally I overtook him.</p> + +<p>"Jones," I panted. "Jones."</p> + +<p>He muttered something about Ananias, and speeded up.</p> + +<p>"But it was an awfully tight place," I pleaded. "Something had to be +done; you must make allowances; it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1044" id="Page_1044">[Pg 1044]</a></span> the first thing that came into +my head—and you must admit that it worked, Jones. Didn't she send you +the locket? Didn't she—?"</p> + +<p>"What a prancing, show-off, matinée fool you've made me look!" he burst +out. "I have an old mother to support. I have an increasing practice. I +have already attracted some little attention in my chosen field—eye, +ear and throat. A nice figure I'd cut, traipsing around the battlefields +in a kimono, and looking for a kindly bullet to lay me low. If I were +ever tempted by such a thing—which God forbid—wouldn't I prefer to +spread bacilli on buttered toast?"</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that," I said humbly.</p> + +<p>"I have known retail liars," he went on. "But I guess you are the only +wholesaler in the business. When other people are content with ones and +twos, you get them out in grosses, packed for export!"</p> + +<p>He went on slamming me like this for miles. Anybody else would have +given him up as hopeless. I don't want to praise myself, but if I have +one good quality it's staying power. I pleaded and argued, and +expostulated and explained, with the determination of a man whose back +is to the wall. I wasn't going to lose Freddy so long as there was +breath in my body. However, it wasn't the least good in the world. Jones +was as impervious as sole-leather, and as unshaken as a marble pillar.</p> + +<p>Then I played my last card.</p> + +<p>I told him the truth! Not the <i>whole</i> truth, of course, but within ten +per cent. of it. About Freddy, you know, and how she was determined not +to marry before her elder sister, and how Eleanor's only preference +seemed to be for him, and how with such a slender clue to work on I had +engineered everything up to this point.</p> + +<p>"If I have seemed to you intolerably prying and of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1045" id="Page_1045">[Pg 1045]</a></span>ficious," I said, +"well, at any rate, Jones, there's my excuse. It rests with you to give +me Freddy or take her from me. Turn back, and you'll make me the +happiest man alive; go forward, and—and—"</p> + +<p>I watched him out of the corner of my eye.</p> + +<p>His tread lost some of its elasticity. He was short-circuiting inside. +Positively he began to look sort of sympathetic and human.</p> + +<p>"Westoby," he said at last, in a voice almost of awe, "when they get up +another world's fair you must have a building to yourself. You're +colossal, that's what you are!"</p> + +<p>"I'm only in love," I said.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's the love that moves mountains," he said. "If anybody had +told me that I should...." He stopped irresolutely on the word.</p> + +<p>"Oh, to think I have to stand for all that rot!" he bleated.</p> + +<p>I was too wise to say a word. I simply motioned James to switch the car +around and back up. I shooed Jones into the tonneau and turned the knob +on him. He snuggled back in the cushions, and smiled—yes smiled—with a +beautiful, blue-eyed, far-away, indulgent expression that warmed me like +spring sunshine. Not that I felt absolutely safe even yet—of course I +couldn't—but still—</p> + +<p>We ran into Freddy and Eleanor at the lodge gates. I had already +telephoned the former to expect us, so as to have everything fall out +naturally when the time came. We stopped the car, and descended—Jones +and I—and he walked straight off with Eleanor, while I side-stepped +with Freddy.</p> + +<p>She and I were almost too excited to talk. It was now or never, you +know, and there was an awfully solemn look about both their backs that +was either reassuring or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1046" id="Page_1046">[Pg 1046]</a></span> alarming—we couldn't decide quite which. +Freddy and I simply held our breath and waited.</p> + +<p>Finally, after an age, Jones and Eleanor turned, still close in talk, +still solemn and enigmatical, and drew toward us very slowly and +deliberately. When they had got quite close, and the tension was at the +breaking point, Eleanor suddenly made a little rush, and, with a loud +sob, threw her arms round Freddy's neck.</p> + +<p>Jones fidgeted nervously about, and seemed to quail under my questioning +eyes. It was impossible to tell whether things had gone right or not. I +waited for him to speak.... I saw words forming themselves hesitatingly +on his lips ... he bent toward me quite confidentially....</p> + +<p>"Say, old man," he whispered, "is there any place around here where a +fellow can buy an engagement ring?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1047" id="Page_1047">[Pg 1047]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE BEAR STORY</h2> + +<h3>THAT ALEX "IST MAKED UP HIS-OWN-SE'F"</h3> + +<h3>BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">W'y, wunst they wuz a Little Boy went out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the woods to shoot a Bear. So, he went out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Way in the grea'-big woods—he did.—An' he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wuz goin' along—an' goin' along, you know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' purty soon he heerd somepin' go "<i>Wooh</i>!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ist thataway—"<i>Woo-ooh!</i>" An' he wuz <i>skeered</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wuz. An' so he runned an' clumbed a tree—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A grea'-big tree, he did,—a <i>sicka-more</i> tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' nen he heerd it ag'in: an' he looked round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' <i>'t'uz a Bear</i>!—<i>a grea'-big shore-nuff Bear!</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No: 't'uz <i>two</i> Bears, it wuz—two grea'-big Bears—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>One</i> of 'em wuz—ist <i>one's</i> a <i>grea'-big</i> Bear.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they ist <i>boff</i> went "<i>Wooh</i>!"—An' here <i>they</i> come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To climb the tree an' git the Little Boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' eat him up!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">An' nen the Little Boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He 'uz skeered worse'n ever! An' here come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grea'-big Bear a-climbin' th' tree to git<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Little Boy an' eat him up—Oh, <i>no</i>!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 'uzn't the <i>Big</i> Bear 'at dumb the tree—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It 'uz the <i>Little</i> Bear. So here <i>he</i> come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climbin' the tree—an' climbin' the tree! Nen when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He git wite <i>clos't</i> to the Little Boy, w'y nen</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1048" id="Page_1048">[Pg 1048]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Little Boy he ist pulled up his gun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' <i>shot</i> the Bear, he did, an' killed him dead!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' nen the Bear he falled clean on down out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tree—away clean to the ground, he did—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Spling-splung!</i> he falled <i>plum</i> down, an' killed him, too!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' lit wite side o' where the <i>Big</i> Bear's at.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' nen the Big Bear's awful mad, you bet!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause—'cause the Little Boy he shot his gun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' killed the <i>Little</i> Bear.—'Cause the <i>Big</i> Bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He—he 'uz the Little Bear's Papa.—An' so here<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He</i> come to climb the big old tree an' git<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Little Boy he saw the <i>grea'-big Bear</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">A-comin', he 'uz badder skeered, he wuz,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than <i>any</i> time! An' so he think he'll climb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up <i>higher</i>—'way up higher in the tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the old <i>Bear</i> kin climb, you know.—But he—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He <i>can't</i> climb higher 'an old <i>Bears</i> kin climb,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause Bears kin climb up higher in the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than any little Boys in all the Wo-r-r-ld!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' so here come the grea'-big Bear, he did,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A-climbin' up—an' up the tree, to git<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Little Boy he clumbed on higher, an' higher,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' higher up the tree—an' higher—an' higher—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' higher'n iss-here <i>house</i> is!—An' here come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' old Bear—clos'ter to him all the time!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' nen—first thing you know,—when th' old Big Bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wuz wite clos't to him—nen the Little Boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ist jabbed his gun wite in the old Bear's mouf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' shot an' killed him dead!—No; I <i>fergot</i>,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He didn't shoot the grea'-big Bear at all—</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1049" id="Page_1049">[Pg 1049]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Cause <i>they 'uz no load in the gun</i>, you know—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause when he shot the <i>Little</i> Bear, w'y, nen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No load 'uz any more nen <i>in</i> the gun!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But th' Little Boy clumbed <i>higher</i> up, he did—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He clumbed <i>lots</i> higher—an' on up <i>higher</i>—an' higher<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' <i>higher</i>—tel he ist <i>can't</i> climb no higher,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause nen the limbs 'uz all so little, 'way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up in the teeny-weeny tip-top of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tree, they'd break down wiv him ef he don't<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be keerful! So he stop an' think: An' nen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He look around—An' here come th' old Bear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' so the Little Boy make up his mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's got to ist git out o' there <i>some</i> way!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause here come the old Bear!—so clos't, his bref's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Purt 'nigh so's he kin feel how hot it is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ag'inst his bare feet—ist like old "Ring's" bref<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he's ben out a-huntin' an's all tired.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So when th' old Bear's so clos't—the Little Boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ist gives a grea'-big jump fer <i>'nother</i> tree—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No!—no he don't do that!—I tell you what<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Little Boy does:—W'y, nen—w'y, he—Oh, <i>yes</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Little Boy <i>he finds a hole up there</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>'At's in the tree</i>—an' climbs in there an' <i>hides</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' <i>nen</i> th' old Bear can't find the Little Boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At all!—But, purty soon th' old Bear finds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Little Boy's <i>gun</i> 'at's up there—'cause the <i>gun</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's too <i>tall</i> to tooked wiv him in the hole.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, when the old Bear find' the <i>gun</i>, he knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Little Boy's ist <i>hid</i> 'round <i>somers</i> there,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' th' old Bear 'gins to snuff an' sniff around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' sniff an' snuff around—so's he kin find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out where the Little Boy's hid at.—An' nen—nen—</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1050" id="Page_1050">[Pg 1050]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, <i>yes</i>!—W'y, purty soon the old Bear climbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Way out on a big limb—a grea'-long limb,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' nen the Little Boy climbs out the hole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' takes his ax an' chops the limb off!... Nen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old Bear falls <i>k-splunge</i>! clean to the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' bust an' kill hisse'f plum dead, he did!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' nen the Little Boy he git his gun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' 'menced a-climbin' down the tree ag'in—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No!—no, he <i>didn't</i> git his <i>gun</i>—'cause when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>Bear</i> falled, nen the <i>gun</i> falled, too—An' broked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It all to pieces, too!—An' <i>nicest</i> gun!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His Pa ist buyed it!—An' the Little Boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ist cried, he did; an' went on climbin' down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tree—an' climbin' down—an' climbin' down!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>An'-sir</i>! when he 'uz purt'-nigh down,—w'y, nen<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The old Bear he jumped up ag'in</i>!—an' he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ain't dead at all—ist '<i>tendin</i>' thataway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So he kin git the Little Boy an' eat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him up! But the Little Boy he 'uz too smart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To climb clean <i>down</i> the tree.—An' the old Bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He can't climb <i>up</i> the tree no more—'cause when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fell, he broke one of his—he broke <i>all</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">His legs!—an' nen he <i>couldn't</i> climb! But he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ist won't go 'way an' let the Little Boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come down out of the tree. An' the old Bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ist growls 'round there, he does—ist growls an' goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"<i>Wooh!—woo-ooh!</i>" all the time! An' Little Boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He haf to stay up in the tree—all night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' 'thout no <i>supper</i> neether!—On'y they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wuz <i>apples</i> on the tree!—An' Little Boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et apples—ist all night—an' cried—an' cried!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nen when 't'uz morning th' old Bear went "<i>Wooh</i>!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ag'in, an' try to climb up in the tree</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1051" id="Page_1051">[Pg 1051]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">An' git the Little Boy.—But he <i>can't</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climb t'save his <i>soul</i>, he can't!—An' <i>oh</i>! he's <i>mad</i>!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He ist tear up the ground! an' go "<i>Woo-ooh</i>!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An'—<i>Oh, yes!</i>—purty soon, when morning's come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All <i>light</i>—so's you kin <i>see</i>, you know,—w'y, nen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old Bear finds the Little Boy's <i>gun</i>, you know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'At's on the ground.—(An' it ain't broke at all—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ist <i>said</i> that!) An' so the old Bear think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'll take the gun an' <i>shoot</i> the Little Boy:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But <i>Bears they</i> don't know much 'bout shootin' guns:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So when he go to shoot the Little Boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old Bear got the <i>other</i> end the gun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ag'in' his shoulder, 'stid o' <i>th'other</i> end—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So when he try to shoot the Little Boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shot <i>the Bear</i>, it did—an' killed him dead!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' nen the Little Boy clumb down the tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' chopped his old woolly head off:—Yes, an' killed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>other</i> Bear ag'in, he did—an' killed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All <i>boff</i> the bears, he did—an' tuk 'em home<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' <i>cooked</i>'em, too, an' <i>et</i>'em!<br /></span> +<span class="i14">—An' that's all.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1052" id="Page_1052">[Pg 1052]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>COLONEL CARTER'S STORY OF THE POSTMASTER</h2> + +<h3>BY F. HOPKINSON SMITH</h3> + + +<p>"Take, for instance, the town of Caartersville: look at that peaceful +village which for mo' than a hundred years has enjoyed the privileges of +free government; and not only Caartersville, but all our section of the +State."</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the matter with Cartersville?" asked Fitz, lighting his +cigar.</p> + +<p>"Mattah, suh! Just look at the degradation it fell into hardly ten years +ago. A Yankee jedge jurisdiction our laws, a Yankee sheriff enfo'cin' +'em, and a Yankee postmaster distributin' letters and sellin' postage +stamps."</p> + +<p>"But they were elected all right, Colonel, and represented the will of +the people."</p> + +<p>"What people? Yo' people, not mine. No, my dear Fitz; the Administration +succeeding the war treated us shamefully, and will go down to postehity +as infamous."</p> + +<p>The colonel here left his chair and began pacing the floor, his +indignation rising at every step.</p> + +<p>"To give you an idea, suh," he continued, "of what we Southern people +suffe'd immediately after the fall of the Confederacy, let me state a +case that came under my own observation.</p> + +<p>"Coloner Temple Talcott of F'okeer County, Virginia, came into +Talcottville one mornin', suh,—a town settled by his ancestors,—ridin' +upon his horse—or rather a mule belongin' to his overseer. Colonel +Talcott, suh, belonged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1053" id="Page_1053">[Pg 1053]</a></span> to one of the vehy fust families in Virginia. He +was a son of Jedge Thaxton Talcott, and grandson of General Snowden +Stafford Talcott of the Revolutionary War. Now, suh, let me tell you +right here that the Talcott blood is as blue as the sky, and that every +gentleman bearin' the name is known all over the county as a man whose +honor is dearer to him than his life, and whose word is as good as his +bond. Well, suh, on this mornin' Colonel Talcott left his plantation in +charge of his overseer,—he was workin' it on shares,—and rode through +his estate to his ancestral town, some five miles distant. It is true, +suh, these estates were no longer in his name, but that had no bearin' +on the events that followed; he ought to have owned them, and would have +done so but for some vehy ungentlemanly fo'closure proceedin's which +occurred immediately after the war.</p> + +<p>"On arriving at Talcottville the colonel dismounted, handed the reins to +his servant,—or perhaps one of the niggers around de do'—and entered +the post-office. Now, suh, let me tell you that one month befo', the +Government, contrary to the express wishes of a great many of our +leadin' citizens, had sent a Yankee postmaster to Talcottville to +administer the postal affairs of the town. No sooner had this man taken +possession than he began to be exclusive, suh, and to put on airs. The +vehy fust air he put on was to build a fence in his office and compel +our people to transact their business through a hole. This in itself was +vehy gallin', suh, for up to that time the mail had always been dumped +out on the table in the stage office and every gentleman had he'ped +himself. The next thing was the closin' of his mail bags at a' hour +fixed by himself. This became a great inconvenience to our citizens, who +were often late in finishin' their correspondence, and who had always +found our former post<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1054" id="Page_1054">[Pg 1054]</a></span>master willin' either to hold the bag over until +the next day, or to send it across to Drummondtown by a boy to catch a +later train.</p> + +<p>"Well, suh, Colonel Talcott's mission to the post-office was to mail a +letter to his factor in Richmond, Virginia, on business of the utmost +importance to himself,—namely, the raisin' of a small loan upon his +share of the crop. Not the crop that was planted, suh, but the crop that +he expected to plant.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Talcott approached the hole, and with that Chesterfieldian +manner which has distinguished the Talcotts for mo' than two centuries, +asked the postmaster for the loan of a three-cent postage stamp.</p> + +<p>"To his astonishment, suh, he was refused.</p> + +<p>"Think of a Talcott in his own county town bein' refused a three-cent +postage stamp by a low-lived Yankee, who had never known a gentleman in +his life! The colonel's first impulse was to haul the scoundrel through +the hole and caarve him; but then he remembered that he was a Talcott +and could not demean himself, and drawin' himself up again with that +manner which was grace itself he requested the loan of a three-cent +postage stamp until he should communicate with his factor in Richmond, +Virginia; and again he was refused. Well, suh, what was there left for a +high-toned Southern gentleman to do? Colonel Talcott drew his revolver +and shot that Yankee scoundrel through the heart, and killed him on the +spot.</p> + +<p>"And now, suh, comes the most remarkable part of the story. If it had +not been for Major Tom Yancey, Jedge Kerfoot and myself, there would +have been a lawsuit."</p> + +<p>Fitz lay back in his chair and roared.</p> + +<p>"And they did not hang the colonel?"</p> + +<p>"Hang a Talcott! No, suh; we don't hang gentlemen down our way. Jedge +Kerfoot vehy properly charged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1055" id="Page_1055">[Pg 1055]</a></span> the coroner's jury that it was a matter +of self-defense, and Colonel Talcott was not detained mo' than haalf an +hour."</p> + +<p>The colonel stopped, unlocked a closet in the sideboard, and produced a +black bottle labeled in ink, "Old Cherry Bounce, 1848."</p> + +<p>"You must excuse me, gentlemen, but the discussion of these topics has +quite unnerved me. Allow me to share with you a thimbleful."</p> + +<p>Fitz drained the glass, cast his eyes upward, and said solemnly, "To the +repose of the postmaster's soul."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1056" id="Page_1056">[Pg 1056]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LOVE SONNETS OF AN OFFICE BOY</h2> + +<h3>BY S.E. KISER</h3> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, if you only knowed how much I like<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To stand here, when the "old man" ain't around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And watch your soft, white fingers while you pound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away at them there keys! Each time you strike<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It almost seems to me as though you'd found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So me way, while writin' letters, how to play<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet music on that thing, because the sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is something I could listen to all day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You're twenty-five or six, and I'm fourteen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you don't hardly ever notice me—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But when you do, you call me Willie! Gee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wisht I'd bundles of the old long green<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And could be twenty-eight or nine or so,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And something happened to your other beau.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When you're typewritin' and that long-legged clerk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tips back there on his chair and smiles at you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you look up and get to smilin', too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd like to go and give his chair a jerk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And send him flyin' till his head went through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The door that goes out to the hall, and when<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They picked him up he'd be all black and blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you'd be nearly busted laughin' then.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1057" id="Page_1057">[Pg 1057]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But if I done it, maybe you would run<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hold his head and smooth his hair and say<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It made you sad that he got dumped that way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'd get h'isted out for what I done—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wish that he'd get fired and you'd stay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And suddenly I'd be a man some day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This morning when that homely, long-legged clerk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come in he had a rose he got somewhere;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He went and kind of leaned against her chair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instead of goin' on about his work,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stood around and talked to her a while,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because the boss was out,—and both took care<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To watch the door; and when he left her there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He dropped the flower with a sickish smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I snuck it from the glass of water she<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had stuck it in, and tore it up and put<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It on the floor and smashed it with my foot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When neither him nor her was watchin' me—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'd like to rub the stem acrost his nose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I wish they'd never be another rose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Last night I dreamed about her in my sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I thought that her and me had went away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out on some hill where birds sung 'round all day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I had got a job of herdin' sheep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought that she had went along to keep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Me comp'ny, and we'd set around for hours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just lovin', and I'd go and gather flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pile them at her feet, all in a heap.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1058" id="Page_1058">[Pg 1058]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It seemed to me like heaven, bein' there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With only her besides the sheep and birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And us not sayin' anything but words<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About the way we loved. I wouldn't care<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To ever wake again if I could still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dream we was there forever on the hill.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>XXVII</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's over now; the blow has fell at last;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It seems as though the sun can't shine no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nothing looks the way it did before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glad thoughts that I used to think are past.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her desk's shut up to-day, the lid's locked fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The keys where she typewrote are still; her chair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Looks sad and lonesome standin' empty there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd like to let the tears come if I dast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This morning when the boss come in he found<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A letter that he'd got from her, and so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He read it over twice and turned around<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And said: "The little fool's got married!" Oh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seemed as if I'd sink down through the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And never peep no more—I didn't, though.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1059" id="Page_1059">[Pg 1059]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MR. DOOLEY ON THE GAME OF FOOTBALL</h2> + +<h3>BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE</h3> + + +<p>"Whin I was a young man," said Mr. Dooley, "an' that was a long time +ago,—but not so long ago as manny iv me inimies'd like to believe, if I +had anny inimies,—I played fut-ball, but 'twas not th' fut-ball I see +whin th' Brothers' school an' th' Saint Aloysius Tigers played las' week +on th' pee-raries.</p> + +<p>"Whin I was a la-ad, iv a Sundah afthernoon we'd get out in th' field +where th' oats'd been cut away, an' we'd choose up sides. Wan cap'n'd +pick one man, an' th' other another. 'I choose Dooley,' 'I choose +O'Connor,' 'I choose Dimpsey,' 'I choose Riordan,' an' so on till there +was twinty-five or thirty on a side. Thin wan cap'n'd kick th' ball, an' +all our side'd r-run at it an' kick it back; an' thin wan iv th' other +side'd kick it to us, an' afther awhile th' game'd get so timpischous +that all th' la-ads iv both sides'd be in wan pile, kickin' away at wan +or th' other or at th' ball or at th' impire, who was mos'ly a la-ad +that cudden't play an' that come out less able to play thin he was whin +he wint in. An', if anny wan laid hands on th' ball, he was kicked be +ivry wan else an' be th' impire. We played fr'm noon till dark, an' +kicked th' ball all th' way home in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>"That was futball, an' I was a great wan to play it. I'd think nawthin' +iv histin' th' ball two hundherd feet in th' air, an' wanst I give it +such a boost that I stove in th' ribs iv th' Prowtestant minister—bad +luck to him, he was a kind man—that was lookin' on fr'm a hedge. I was +th' finest player in th' whole county, I was so.</p> + +<p>"But this here game that I've been seein' ivry time th'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1060" id="Page_1060">[Pg 1060]</a></span> pagan fistival +iv Thanksgivin' comes ar-round, sure it ain't th' game I played. I seen +th' Dorgan la-ad comin' up th' sthreet yesterdah in his futball +clothes,—a pair iv matthresses on his legs, a pillow behind, a mask +over his nose, an' a bushel measure iv hair on his head. He was followed +by thee men with bottles, Dr. Ryan, an' th' Dorgan fam'ly. I jined thim. +They was a big crowd on th' peerary,—a bigger crowd than ye cud get to +go f'r to see a prize fight. Both sides had their frinds that give th' +colledge cries. Says wan crowd: 'Take an ax, an ax, an ax to thim. +Hooroo, hooroo, hellabaloo. Christyan Bro-others!' an' th' other says, +'Hit thim, saw thim, gnaw thim, chaw thim, Saint Alo-ysius!' Well, +afther awhile they got down to wur-ruk. 'Sivin, eighteen, two, four,' +says a la-ad. I've seen people go mad over figures durin' th' free +silver campaign, but I niver see figures make a man want f'r to go out +an' kill his fellow-men befure. But these here figures had th' same +effect on th' la-ads that a mintion iv Lord Castlereagh'd have on their +fathers. Wan la-ad hauled off, an' give a la-ad acrost fr'm him a punch +in th' stomach. His frind acrost th' way caught him in th' ear. Th' +cinter rush iv th' Saint Aloysiuses took a runnin' jump at th' left lung +iv wan iv th' Christyan Brothers, an' wint to th' grass with him. Four +Christyan Brothers leaped most crooly at four Saint Aloysiuses, an' +rolled thim. Th' cap'n iv th' Saint Aloysiuses he took th' cap'n iv th' +Christyan Brothers be th' leg, an' he pounded th' pile with him as I've +seen a section hand tamp th' thrack. All this time young Dorgan was +standin' back, takin' no hand in th' affray. All iv a suddent he give a +cry iv rage, an' jumped feet foremost into th' pile. 'Down!' says th' +impire. 'Faith, they are all iv that,' says I. 'Will iver they get up?' +'They will,' says ol' man Dorgan. 'Ye can't stop thim,' says he.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1061" id="Page_1061">[Pg 1061]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It took some time f'r to pry thim off. Near ivry man iv th' Saint +Aloysiuses was tied in a knot around wan iv th' Christyan Brothers. On'y +wan iv thim remained on th' field. He was lyin' face down, with his nose +in th' mud. 'He's kilt,' says I. 'I think he is,' says Dorgan, with a +merry smile. 'Twas my boy Jimmy done it, too,' says he. 'He'll be +arrested f'r murdher,' says I. 'He will not,' says he. 'There's on'y wan +polisman in town cud take him, an' he's down town doin' th' same f'r +somebody,' he says. Well, they carried th' corpse to th' side, an' took +th' ball out iv his stomach with a monkey wrinch, an' th' game was +rayshumed. 'Sivin, sixteen, eight, eleven,' says Saint Aloysius; an' +young Dorgan started to run down th' field. They was another young la-ad +r-runnin' in fr-ront iv Dorgan; an', as fast as wan iv th' Christyan +Brothers come up an' got in th' way, this here young Saint Aloysius +grabbed him be th' hair iv th' head an' th' sole iv th' fut, an' thrun +him over his shoulder. 'What's that la-ad doin'?' says I. 'Interfering' +says he. 'I shud think he was,' says I, 'an' most impudent,' I says. +''Tis such interference as this,' I says, 'that breaks up fam'lies'; an' +I come away.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a noble sport, an' I'm glad to see us Irish ar-re gettin' into it. +Whin we larn it thruly, we'll teach thim colledge joods fr'm th' pie +belt a thrick or two."</p> + +<p>"We have already," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se a team up in Wisconsin +with a la-ad be th' name iv Jeremiah Riordan f'r cap'n, an' wan named +Patsy O'Dea behind him. They come down here, an' bate th' la-ads fr'm +th' Chicawgo Colledge down be th' Midway."</p> + +<p>"Iv coorse, they did," said Mr. Dooley. "Iv coorse, they did. An' they +cud bate anny collection iv Baptists that iver come out iv a tank."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1062" id="Page_1062">[Pg 1062]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE FAIRPORT ART MUSEUM</h2> + +<h3>BY OCTAVE THANET</h3> + + +<p>After the war was over, the Middle West addressed itself to Culture. +Perhaps the husbands and brothers and fathers might still be busy making +money; but the women of the West, whose energies and emotions had been +mightily roused, found life a little tame when there were no more +sanitary commissions, no more great fairs or little fairs for the +soldiers, no more intense emotions over printed sheets. Then it was that +the Woman's Club lifted a modest finger at the passing car of progress, +and unobtrusively boarded it.</p> + +<p>Fairport was conservative, as always, but she had no mind to be left +behind in the march of feminine fashion. She did not rush to extremes, +but she had women's clubs in 1881. The chief of these were the Ladies' +Literary Club and the Spinsters' Alliance. Both clubs tackled the same +great themes of ethics and art, and allotted a winter to the literature +of a nation, except in the case of Greek and Roman literatures, which +were not considered able to occupy a whole winter apiece, so they were +studied in company. The club possessed a proper complement of officers, +and their meetings went from house to house. They were conducted with +artless simplicity, in a pleasant, conversational manner, but with due +regard to polite forms; and only at a moment of excitement was the chair +addressed by her Christian name.</p> + +<p>Naturally, the women's clubs were deeply stirred by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1063" id="Page_1063">[Pg 1063]</a></span> the first great +World's Fair in America. But the whole West was moved. It turned to art +with a joyous ardor, the excited happiness of a child that finds a new +beauty in the world. Why had we not thought of the artistic regeneration +of our sordid life before? Never mind, we would make amends for lost +time by spending more money! In very truth the years following the +Centennial witnessed an extraordinary awakening of worship of beauty, +almost religious in its fervor. Passionate pilgrims ransacked Europe and +the Orient; a prodigal horde of their captives, objects of luxury and of +art, surged into galleries and museums and households. No cold, critical +taste weeded out these adorable aliens. The worst and the best +conquered, together. Our architecture, our furniture, our household +surroundings were metamorphosed as by enchantment. And the feature of +mark in it all was the unparalleled diffusion of the new faith. Not the +great cities only; the towns, the villages, the hamlets, caught fire.</p> + +<p>Of course, Fairport went to Philadelphia; and Fairport was converted. It +followed, at once that the women's clubs of the place should serve most +zealously at the altar; and nothing could be more inevitable than that +in course of time there should be a concrete manifestation of zeal. +Hence the memorable Art Museum, the fame of which to this day will +revive, when there is a meeting of the solid and gray-haired matrons who +were the light-footed girls of the Alliance, and the talk falls on the +old times.</p> + +<p>The art collection would give its admirers shivers to-day, but it +excited only happy complacency then. The mood of the hour was not +critical. The homes of the Fairport gentry held innumerable oil copies +of the great masters of different degrees of merit, which they loaned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1064" id="Page_1064">[Pg 1064]</a></span> +secure of welcome; with them came family treasures so long held in +reverence that their artistic value (coldly considered) had been lost to +comparison, and the gems of accomplished amateurs who painted flowers on +china cups, or of rising young artists who had not as yet risen beyond +the circle of trusting friends in town.</p> + +<p>In general, the donors' expectation of gratitude was justified, but even +so early as 1881 there were limits to artistic credulity; and some +offerings drove the club president, Miss Claudia Loraine, and the club +secretary, Miss Emma Hopkins, to "the coal hold." This was a wee closet +under the stairs, where the coal scuttles were ranged, until they should +fare forth to replenish the "base burners" which warmed the Museum home. +In real life the name of the Museum's lodgings was Harness Block, and +Mr. Harness had proffered the cause of art two empty stores, formerly a +fish market and a grocery. As there was no private office (only a wire +cage), when Miss Hopkins felt the need of frank speech she signaled +Claudia to the coal hole.</p> + +<p>She was closeted with her thus on the morning of the second day. The +subject of the conference was the last assault on the nerves of the +committee, perpetrated by the Miller twins—not in person, but with +their china. The china, itself, had the outward semblance of ordinary +blue earthen ware of a cheap grade; but the Miller twins were convinced +(on the testimony of their dear old minister, who never told a lie in +his life, and who had heard the Millers' grandmother say—and everybody +knows that <i>she</i> was a saint on earth, and she was ninety years old at +the time, and would she be likely to lie almost on her dying bed?—you +might call it her dying bed, averred Miss Miller, since she was +bedridden for two years before her death, on that same old four-poster +bedstead which be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1065" id="Page_1065">[Pg 1065]</a></span>longed to her mother, and at last died on it) that the +blue ware had been the property of George the Third, had been sold and +was on board the ship with the tea which was rifled in Boston Harbor. +They had insisted in pasting these royal claims upon the china in the +blackest and neatest lettering. The awkward fact that earthenware does +not usually grace a royal board, or that the saintly old grandmother +mixed up dates and persons in a wonderful way during her latter days, +made no difference to her loyal descendants. Each platter with the black +chipping betraying plainly its lowly origin, each tea-cup mended with +cement, bore the paper-claim pasted securely upon it.</p> + +<p>"It took up a whole afternoon," said Miss Tina Miller, "but it's <i>so</i> +precious and there might be other blue ware and it <i>might</i> get +mixed—you'll insure it, Miss Hopkins? not that money could replace such +things, but, at least"—Miss Tina Miller always left her sentences in +the air, seemingly too diffident to complete them, once the auditors +were assured of their import.</p> + +<p>The Millers kept a tiny little house on a tiny little income; but gave +of all they had to give, themselves, without stint. They were +public-spirited women, if Fairport ever held any such. Although they had +neither brothers nor cousins to go to the war, they had picked lint and +made bandages and trudged with subscription papers and scrimped for +weeks to have money to spend at the patriotic fairs. In consequence they +were deeply respected, so respected that it was simply impossible to +refuse their unselfish offering of their dearest god.</p> + +<p>"I think it just <i>noble</i> of you," said Miss Tina. "Sister and I felt we +<i>must</i> help; so we brought the King George china and a little pencil +head our sister Euphrosyne did. The one who died, you know. I'm sorry +all your—art<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1066" id="Page_1066">[Pg 1066]</a></span> things—aren't in yet. No, I can't come to-morrow; I +shall be very busy—sister may come—<i>thank</i> you."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Both the keen young listeners knew why Miss Tina could not come; it was +neither more nor less than the admission fee.</p> + +<p>"But I'll take care of that," said Emma to Claudia in the coal hold. +"Elly is going to give her and Miss Ally each a season ticket."</p> + +<p>"Then we're <i>in</i> for the King George china!" groaned Claudia softly.</p> + +<p>"We are," said Emma. "I've put it in a good but not too good a place, +and Mr. Winslow is inspecting it now."</p> + +<p>"And he <i>knows</i> about china; he's sent lovely things," mourned Claudia.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, he knows about the Miller girls, too," said Emma, smiling; "I +think he'll forgive us."</p> + +<p>"You'd better go explain," urged Claudia, "and throw in that landscape +with the cow that seems to have five legs and belongs to Mr. Harness. +Perhaps he'll forgive that, too."</p> + +<p>Emma went,—she was an amiable girl. She was not pretty like her sister, +Mrs. Raimund, who had married the great railway man and was a power in +Chicago society; but there was something in the radiant neatness and +good humor of the plain sister which made her pleasant to look upon.</p> + +<p>Winslow's mouth and eyes relaxed at her greeting, and he smiled over her +official quotation of the Millers' claims.</p> + +<p>"King George's table? H'mn; which table, second or third?" His eyes +twinkled at Emma, whose own eyes twinkled back.</p> + +<p>"They're awfully good women," said she, in a kind of compunction.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1067" id="Page_1067">[Pg 1067]</a></span></p> + +<p>"None better," said he.</p> + +<p>As he passed on, with his little son at his side, she thought: "He isn't +nearly so grim as I used to think."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Winslow and Mrs. Winter were a few paces behind. They halted before +the china, which Mrs. Winter examined; but Mrs. Winslow's weary eyes +lingered hardly a moment before they found some other object on which to +rest and leave as briefly.</p> + +<p>"It is to be hoped this priceless relic won't be damaged in any way," +said Mrs. Winter. "Still"—she bent confidentially toward Emma—"if such +a calamity should occur, I know a shop in Chicago where you can get +plenty for three dollars and ninety-nine cents."</p> + +<p>"I hope nothing will happen to it," said Emma, with stolid reticence.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Winslow had not listened, her listless face had been transformed; +it was illumined now by the loveliest of smiles; she half put out her +hand as a little boy snuggled up to her silken skirts, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Papa letted me come," he said gaily, "and Peggy's here, too,—there!"</p> + +<p>Peggy was attired with great care, her long red curls were shining and +her eyes sparkled.</p> + +<p>Immediately both children were immersed in the beauties of a collection +of rejected models which had been obtained from the patent office, and +which, surely, were the most diverting toys imaginable.</p> + +<p>"Poor things, to them they <i>are</i> most valuable!" sighed Mrs. Winslow. +She was making conversation about the Miller china; but Johnny-Ivan and +Peggy not unreasonably conceived that she spoke of the beautiful churns +and hayraking wagons and cars and wheeled chairs and the like marvels +which Miss Hopkins was amiably explaining for them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1068" id="Page_1068">[Pg 1068]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The least chip would be irreparable, I suppose," continued Mrs. Winter, +"thousands couldn't pay if one were broken!"</p> + +<p>"Imagine the feelings of the custodian," said Emma. "I'm in a tremble +all the time."</p> + +<p>"I pity you," said Mrs. Winter, as the two ladies passed on to Mrs. +Winter's great-grandmother's blue and white embroidered bedspread.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Peggy, <i>do</i> be careful!" whispered Johnny-Ivan; Peggy was sending a +velocipede in dizzy circles round the counter.</p> + +<p>Now fate had ordered that at this critical instant the children should +be unguarded. Miss Hopkins had stepped aside at the call of an agitated +lady who had lost one of her art treasures in carriage; for the moment, +there was no one near save a freckled boy in shabby overalls, who eyed +the toys wistfully from afar. He was the same little boy whom +Johnny-Ivan had bribed with a jack-knife to close the gate a few weeks +before; and he was in the Museum to help his mother, the scrub-woman of +the store.</p> + +<p>Peggy grew more pleased with her play. The velocipede described wider +and wider gyrations with accelerating speed; its keen buzz swelled on +the air.</p> + +<p>"It'll hit somepin!" warned Johnny-Ivan in an access of fear.</p> + +<p>But Peggy's soul was dauntless to recklessness. "No, it won't," she +flung back. Her shining head was between Johnny and the whirling wheels. +He thought a most particularly beautiful little swinging gate in peril +and tried to swerve the flying thing; how it happened, neither of the +children knew; there was a smash, a crash, and gate and velocipede lay +in splinters under a bronze bust. The glass of the show-case was etched +with a sinister gray line.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1069" id="Page_1069">[Pg 1069]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Now</i> look what you've done!" exclaimed Peggy, with the natural +irritation of disaster. "Oh, my!" squeaked the shabby little boy, "won't +you catch it!" Peggy's anger was swallowed up in fright and sympathy; +she pushed Johnny-Ivan ahead of her. "That Miss Hopkins is looking," +cried she, "get behind these folks down the aisle!"</p> + +<p>She propelled the little boy out of the immediate neighborhood of the +calamity; she forced a wicked, deceitful smile (alas! guile comes easy +to her sex) and pointed out things to him, whispering, "Look pleasant! +Don't be so scared! They'll never know we did it." Already she was +shouldering her share in crime, with a woman's willingness; she said +"we" quite unconsciously; but she added (and this was of direct +volition): "I did it more'n you; you were just trying to keep the nasty +thing straight; I was a heap more to blame. Anyhow, I guess it ain't so +awful bad. Just those wooden things."</p> + +<p>Johnny-Ivan shook a tragic head; even his lips had gone bluish-white. +"She said thousands wouldn't repair the damage," moaned he.</p> + +<p>"You can't make me believe those mean little wooden tricks are worth any +thousand dollars!" volleyed Peggy; nevertheless, her heart beat +faster,—grown people are so queer. "Are you sure she meant <i>them</i>? +Maybe it was those things in the next glass case; they're her own +things! They're some kind of Chinese china and cost a heap." Peggy's +sturdy womanly wits were rising from the shock.</p> + +<p>"And the show-case is broked!" sniffed Johnny-Ivan, gulping down a sob.</p> + +<p>"It ain't broke, it's only cracked; 'sides, it was cracked a right smart +befo'!"</p> + +<p>"But this was a new place—I know, 'cause I cut my finger on the other, +scraping it over."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1070" id="Page_1070">[Pg 1070]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, I reckon it didn't be much value," Peggy insisted.</p> + +<p>"I saw that young lady come back,"—Johnny-Ivan had switched on to a new +track leading to grisly possibilities—"maybe <i>she'll</i> find it!"</p> + +<p>"Well, we're gone, all right."</p> + +<p>Peggy gave an unprincipled giggle; "Maybe she'll think it was <i>him</i>."</p> + +<p>"Then we <i>got</i> to tell," moaned Johnny.</p> + +<p>"No, we ain't. He'll run off and so she won't ask him questions."</p> + +<p>"But she'll <i>think</i> it's him. It'll be mean."</p> + +<p>"No it won't."</p> + +<p>"It's mean to have somebody else take your blame or your punishment; +mamma said so."</p> + +<p>The small casuist was too discreet to attack Johnny's oracle; she only +pouted her pretty lips and quibbled:</p> + +<p>"'Tain't mean if the people who get blamed are mean themselves—like +him. I don't care <i>how</i> blamed he gets; I wouldn't care if he got +licked."</p> + +<p>But Johnny's conscience was not so elastic. "I don't care, either," he +protested. "I—I wouldn't care if he was <i>deaded</i>"—anxious to +propitiate—"but it would be mean just the same. I got to tell papa, +Peggy, I truly have."</p> + +<p>Peggy grew very cross. "You are just the foolest, obsternatest little +boy I ever did see," she grumbled; "you're a plumb idiot! I'd like to +slap you! Your papa'll be awful mad."</p> + +<p>Johnny-Ivan essayed an indifferent mien, but his eyes were miserable.</p> + +<p>"Say, Jo'nivan,"—her voice sank to a whisper that curdled his +blood—"were you ever spanked?"</p> + +<p>"Only Hilma sorter kinder—not really <i>spanking</i>, you know," confessed +Johnny with a toss of his head. "I just made faces at her; I didn't +cry!" he bragged.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1071" id="Page_1071">[Pg 1071]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never your mamma or your papa?"</p> + +<p>"Course not," said Johnny with a haughty air; "but, Peggy," he said very +low, "were you—did—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my, yes! Mammy did when I was little. I'm too big now."</p> + +<p>"I'm too big, too, now, ain't I?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Peggy. "Wulf Greiner was licked by teacher, and +he's thirteen. It's whether it's mighty bad, you know."</p> + +<p>Johnny-Ivan caught his breath and his legs shook under him; the horror +of his father's "licking" him came over him cold; it was not the pain; +he had never minded Hilma's sturdy blows and he had let Michael cut a +splinter out of his thumb with a pocket-knife, and never whimpered; it +was the ignominy, the unknown terror of his father's wrath that looked +awful to him. As he looked down the crowded room and suddenly beheld +Winslow's face bent gravely over Miss Hopkins, who was talking +earnestly, he could hardly move his feet. Yet he had no thought of +wavering. "I <i>got</i> to tell," he said, and walked as fast as he could, +with his white face, straight to the group.</p> + +<p>Winslow looked down and saw the two children; and one could discover the +signals of calamity in their faces: Peggy's a fine scarlet and +Johnny-Ivan's grayish-white.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Johnny?" asked Winslow.</p> + +<p>Johnny's eyelids were glued tight—just as they were when he pulled +Peggy's tooth—he blurted everything out breathlessly: "I've done +something <i>awful</i>, papa! It'll cost thousands of dollars."</p> + +<p>Emma Hopkins had considered Winslow an unattractive man, of a harsh +visage, but now, as he looked at his little son, she changed her mind.</p> + +<p>"What did you do, son?" said he quietly; his hand found Johnny's brown +curls and lay on them a second.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1072" id="Page_1072">[Pg 1072]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He didn't do it, really; it was <i>me</i>," Peggy broke in, too agitated for +grammar. "I was playing with the little tricks on the table, the models, +sah, and I was making the v'losipid run round and he was 'fraid I'd +break it; but <i>I</i> did it, really, sah."</p> + +<p>"And the model fell on to something valuable? I see."</p> + +<p>"But he wasn't playing with it, he was only trying to keep me from +breaking—"</p> + +<p>"Well, young lady, you two are evidently in the same boat; but you +aren't a bit sneaky, either of you. Let's see the wreckage; I suppose +you got into trouble because you wanted to see how things worked, and +Johnny, as usual, couldn't keep out of other folks' hot water. Where's +the ruin?"</p> + +<p>"The show-case is broked, too," said Johnny-Ivan in a woeful, small +voice.</p> + +<p>"But it was cracked before," interjected Peggy.</p> + +<p>Winslow looked at her with a little twist. "That's a comfort," said he, +"and you have horse sense, my little Southerner. I guess you didn't +either of you mean any harm—"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, no, sah, and Johnny was just as good; never touched a thing—"</p> + +<p>"But you see your intentions didn't protect you. Distrust good +intentions, my dears; look out for the possible consequences. However, I +think there is one person to blame you haven't mentioned, and that is +one Josiah C. Winslow, who let two such giddy young persons explore by +themselves. Contributory negligence is proved; and said Winslow will pay +the bill and not kick."</p> + +<p>So saying, he took Peggy's warm, chubby little fingers in one of his big +white hands and Johnny-Ivan's cold little palm in the other, and nodded +a farewell to Emma.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1073" id="Page_1073">[Pg 1073]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE BALLAD OF GRIZZLY GULCH<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY WALLACE IRWIN</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rocks are rough, the trail is tough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The forest lies before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As madly, madly to the hunt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rides good King Theodore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With woodsmen, plainsmen, journalists<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kodaks thirty-four.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bob-cats howl, the panthers growl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"He sure is after us!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As by his side lopes Bill, the Guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wicked-looking cuss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Chee-chee!" the little birds exclaim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Ain't Teddy stren-oo-uss!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though dour the climb with slip and slime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">King Ted he doesn't care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, cracking peanuts on a rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Behold, a Grizzly Bear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">King Theodore he shows his teeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But he never turns a hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come hither, Court Photographer,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The genial monarch saith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Be quick to snap your picture-trap<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I do yon Bear to death."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Dee-lighted!" cries the smiling Bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As he waits and holds his breath.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1074" id="Page_1074">[Pg 1074]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then speaks the Court Biographer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a handy guy is he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"First let me wind my biograph,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That the deed recorded be."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"A square deal!" saith the patient Bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With ready repartee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now doth mighty Theodore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For slaughter raise his gun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flash, a bang, an ursine roar—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dready deed is done!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the kodaks thirty-four<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In chorus click as one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The big brown bruin stricken falls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in his juices lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His blood is spent, yet deep content<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beams from his limpid eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Congratulations, dear old pal!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He murmurs as he dies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From Cripple Creek and Soda Springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gun Gulch and Gunnison,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A-foot, a-sock, the people flock<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To see that deed of gun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And parents bring huge families<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To show what <i>they</i> have done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the damp corse stands Theodore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And takes a hand of each,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As loud and long the happy throng<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cries, "Speech!" again and "Speech!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which pleaseth well King Theodore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose practice is to preach.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1075" id="Page_1075">[Pg 1075]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Good friends," he says, "lead outdoor lives<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Fame you yet may see—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just look at Lincoln, Washington,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And great Napoleon B.;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after that take off your hats<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you may look at me!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But as he speaks, a Messenger<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cries, "Sire, a telegraft!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The king up takes the wireless screed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which he opens fore and aft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reads: "The Venezuelan stew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is boiling over. TAFT."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then straight the good King Theodore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In anger drops his gun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turns his flashing spectacles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Toward high-domed Washington.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O tush!" he saith beneath his breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"A man can't have no fun!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then comes a disappointed wail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From every rock and tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Good-by, good-by!" the grizzlies cry<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wring their handkerchee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a sad bob-cat exclaims, "O drat!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He never shot at me!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So backward, backward from the hunt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The monarch lopes once more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Constitution rides behind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the Big Stick rides before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Which was a rule of precedent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the reign of Theodore).<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1076" id="Page_1076">[Pg 1076]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MY PHILOSOFY</h2> + +<h3>BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I ain't, ner don't p'tend to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much posted on philosofy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thare is times, when all alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I work out idees of my own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of these same thare is a few<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd like to jest refer to you—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pervidin' that you don't object<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To listen clos't and rickollect.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I allus argy that a man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who does about the best he can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is plenty good enugh to suit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This lower mundane institute—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No matter ef his daily walk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is subject fer his neghbor's talk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And critic-minds of ev'ry whim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jest all git up and go fer him!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I knowed a feller onc't that had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yeller-janders mighty bad,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each and ev'ry friend he'd meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would stop and give him some receet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fer cuorin' of 'em. But he'd say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He kindo' thought they'd go away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without no medicin', and boast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he'd git well without one doste.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1077" id="Page_1077">[Pg 1077]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He kep' a-yellerin' on—and they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perdictin' that he'd die some day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before he knowed it! Tuck his bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The feller did, and lost his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wundered in his mind a spell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then rallied, and, at last, got well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ev'ry friend that said he'd die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went back on him eternally!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Its natchurl enugh, I guess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When some gits more and some gits less,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fer them-uns on the slimmest side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To claim it ain't a fare divide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I've knowed some to lay and wait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And git up soon, and set up late,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ketch some feller they could hate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fer goin' at a faster gait.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The signs is bad when folks commence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A-findin' fault with Providence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And balkin' 'cause the earth don't shake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At ev'ry prancin' step they take.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man is grate tel he can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How less than little he would be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ef stripped to self, and stark and bare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hung his sign out anywhare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My doctern is to lay aside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contensions, and be satisfied:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jest do your best, and praise er blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That follers that, counts jest the same.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've allus noticed grate success<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is mixed with troubles, more or less,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it's the man who does the best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gits more kicks than all the rest.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1078" id="Page_1078">[Pg 1078]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE SOCIETY UPON THE STANISLAUS</h2> + +<h3>BY BRET HARTE</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am not up to small deceit, or any sinful games;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll tell in simple language what I know about the row<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That broke up our society upon the Stanislow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But first I would remark, that it is not a proper plan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For any scientific man to whale his fellow-man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, if a member don't agree with his peculiar whim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lay for that same member for to "put a head" on him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, nothing could be finer or more beautiful to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the first six months' proceedings of that same society,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Brown of Calaveras brought a lot of fossil bones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he found within a tunnel near the tenement of Jones.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Brown he read a paper, and he reconstructed there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From those same bones, an animal that was extremely rare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Jones then asked the Chair for a suspension of the rules,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he could prove that those same bones was one of his lost mules.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1079" id="Page_1079">[Pg 1079]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Brown he smiled a bitter smile and said he was at fault,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seemed he had been trespassing on Jones's family vault;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was a most sarcastic man, this quiet Mr. Brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on several occasions he had cleaned out the town.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To say another is an ass—at least, to all intent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor should the individual who happens to be meant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reply by heaving rocks at him to any great extent.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Abner Dean of Angel's raised a point of order, when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chunk of old red sandstone took him in the abdomen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For, in less time than I write it, every member did engage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a warfare with the remnants of a palæozoic age;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the way they heaved those fossils in their anger was a sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the skull of an old mammoth caved the head of Thompson in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And this is all I have to say of these improper games,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I live at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I've told, in simple language, what I know about the row<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That broke up our society upon the Stanislow.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1080" id="Page_1080">[Pg 1080]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LOST CHORDS</h2> + +<h3>BY EUGENE FIELD</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One autumn eve, when soft the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came sweeping through the lattice wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I sat me down at organ side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And poured my soul upon the keys.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was, perhaps by heaven's design,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That from my half unconscious touch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There swept a passing chord of such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet harmony, it seemed divine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In one soft tone it seemed to say<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sweetest words I ever heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then like a truant forest bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It soared from me to heaven away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Last eve, I sat at window whence<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I sought the spot where erst had stood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A cord—a cord of hick'ry wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Piled up against the back yard fence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Four dollars cost me it that day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Four dollars earned by sweat of brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where was the cord of hick'ry now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thieves had gobbled it away!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! who can ever count the cost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of treasures which were once our own,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet now, like childhood dreams are flown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those cords that are forever lost.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1081" id="Page_1081">[Pg 1081]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THOUGHTS FER THE DISCURAGED FARMER</h2> + +<h3>BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin' locus' trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the clover in the pastur is a big day fer the bees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they been a-swiggin' honey, above board and on the sly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tel they stutter in theyr buzzin' and stagger as they fly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flicker on the fence-rail 'pears to jest spit on his wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And roll up his feathers, by the sassy way he sings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hoss-fly is a-whettin'-up his forelegs fer biz,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the off-mare is a-switchin' all of her tale they is.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You can hear the blackbirds jawin' as they foller up the plow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, theyr bound to git theyr brekfast, and theyr not a-carin' how;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So they quarrel in the furries, and they quarrel on the wing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But theyr peaceabler in pot-pies than any other thing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it's when I git my shotgun drawed up in stiddy rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's as full of tribbelation as a yeller-jacket's nest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a few shots before dinner, when the sun's a-shinin' right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems to kindo'-sorto' sharpen up a feller's appetite!</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1082" id="Page_1082">[Pg 1082]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They's been a heap o' rain, but the sun's out to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the woods is all the greener, and the grass is greener still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It may rain again to-morry, but I don't think it will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some says the crops is ruined, and the corn's drownded out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And propha-sy the wheat will be a failure, without doubt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the kind Providence that has never failed us yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will be on hands onc't more at the 'leventh hour, I bet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Does the medder-lark complane, as he swims high and dry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the waves of the wind and the blue of the sky?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does the quail set up and whissel in a disappinted way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Er hang his head in silunce, and sorrow all the day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the chipmuck's health a-failin'?—Does he walk, er does he run?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't the buzzards ooze around up thare jest like they've allus done?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is they anything the matter with the rooster's lungs er voice?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ort a mortul be complanin' when dumb animals rejoice?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then let us, one and all, be contentud with our lot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The June is here this mornin', and the sun is shining hot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! let us fill our harts up with the glory of the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And banish ev'ry doubt and care and sorrow fur away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever be our station, with Providence fer guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sich fine circumstances ort to make us satisfied;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fer the world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips fer me and you.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1083" id="Page_1083">[Pg 1083]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE MODERN FARMER<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY JACK APPLETON</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Observe the modern farmer! In the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He works his crops by letters-patent now:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steam drives the reaper (which is union-made),<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As in the spring it pushed the auto-plough;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A patent milker manages each cow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Electric currents guide the garden spade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cattle, poultry, pigs through "process" wade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To quick perfection—Science shows them how.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But while machinery plants and reaps, he rests<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon his porch, and listens to the quail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That pipe far off in yonder hand-made vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With muscles flabby and with strength gone stale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until, in desperation, he invests<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In "Muscle-Building Motions Taught by Mail"!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1084" id="Page_1084">[Pg 1084]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE APOSTASY OF WILLIAM DODGE</h2> + +<h3>BY STANLEY WATERLOO</h3> + + +<p>Billy Dodge rose from a seat near the door, and gave the two ladies +chairs. Kate looked at him and smiled. The voice of the speaker seemed +far away as she thought of the boy and his enthusiasms. Of all the +earnest and sincere converts in the Lakeside House none could compare +with Master William Dodge, the only son of the mistress of the place. He +might be only eleven years old, he might be the most freckled boy in the +block, but he had received new light, and he had his convictions. He had +listened, and he had learned. He had learned that if you "hold a +thought" and carry it around with you on a piece of paper, and read it +from time to time throughout the day, it will bring you strength and +give you victory in all the affairs of life. He thought the matter over +much, for he had great need. He wanted help.</p> + +<p>Of Master William Dodge, known as Billy, it may be said that in school +he had ordinarily more fights on his hands than any other boy of his age +and size, and it may be said, also, that as a rule, where the chances +were anywhere near even, he came out "on top." But doggedly brave as the +little freckled villain was, he had down in the bottom of his heart an +appreciation that some day Jim McMasters might lick him. Jim McMasters +was a boy only some six months older than Billy, of North of Ireland +blood—than which there is none better—a lank, scrawny, reddish-haired +youngster, freckled almost as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1085" id="Page_1085">[Pg 1085]</a></span> profusely as Billy. Three times had they +met in noble battle, and three times had Billy been the conqueror, but +somehow the spirit of young McMasters did not seem particularly broken, +nor did he become a serf. Billy felt that the air was full of portent, +and he didn't like it.</p> + +<p>It was just at this time that to Billy came the conviction that by +"holding the thought" he would have what he called "the bulge on Jim," +and having the energy of his convictions, he promptly set to the work of +getting up texts which he could carry around in his pocket and which +would make him just invincible. He talked cautiously with Mandy Make as +to good watch-words, in no way revealing his designs, and from her +secured certain texts which she had herself unconsciously memorized from +many hearings of Jowler preachers. They were:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p> +"Fight the good fight."<br /> +"Never give up."<br /> +"He never fails who dies in a good cause."<br /> +"Never say die."<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>For a time Billy was content with these quotations, written in a +school-boy hand upon brown paper, and carried in his left-hand trousers +pocket, but later he discovered that most of the scientists in the house +who "held a thought" themselves prepared their own little bit of +manuscript to be carried and read during the day, and that the text was +made to apply to their special needs. Billy, after much meditation, +concluded this was the thing for him, and with great travail he composed +and wrote out the new texts which he should carry constantly and which +should be his bulwark. Here they are:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p> +"Ketch hold prompt and hang on."<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1086" id="Page_1086">[Pg 1086]</a></span>"Strike from the shoulder."<br /> +"A kick for a blow, always bestow."<br /> +"When you get a good thing, keep it—keep it."<br /> +"When you get a black cat, skin it to the tail."<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>Only a week later one William Dodge and one Jim McMasters again met in +more or less mortal combat, and one William Dodge, repeating the shorter +of his texts as he fought, was again the victor.</p> + +<p>"Gimme Christian Science!" he said to himself, as he put on his coat +after the fray was over.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Billy Dodge was fast drifting, although unconsciously, toward a crisis +in his religious and worldly experiences. At school, during the last +term, and so far in the summer vacation, his scheme of fortifying his +physical powers with mental stimulants in the form of warlike "thoughts" +had worked well. His chief rival for the honors of war, an energetic +youngster, whose name, Jim McMasters, proclaimed his Irish ancestry, he +had soundly thrashed more than once since adopting his new tactics. So +far Billy had found that to hold the thought, "Ketch hold prompt and +hang on," while he acted vigorously upon that stirring sentiment, meant +victory, and he had more than once tried the efficacy of, "Strike from +the shoulder," under adverse conditions and with success.</p> + +<p>It was during this summer of anxiety to the more important personages of +this story that Billy Dodge was called upon to prove the practical value +of his belief in the supremacy of mind over matter, and although Billy +emerged from the trial none the worse for his experience, it effected a +radical change in his views.</p> + +<p>Jim McMasters returned one summer's day from a short camping excursion +in the Michigan woods. He had been the only boy in a party of young men, +and during<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1087" id="Page_1087">[Pg 1087]</a></span> their spare hours, as the members of the fishing party were +lying around camp, they had instructed Jim in a few of the first +principles of the noble science of self-defense. This unselfish action +on the part of his elders was brought about by Jim's bitter complaints +of Billy's treatment of himself in a fair fight, and by his dire thirst +for vengeance.</p> + +<p>And so Jim McMasters came back to the city a dangerous opponent, and he +looked it. Even Billy, secure in the prestige of former victories, and +armed with hidden weapons—namely, the "thoughts" he so tenaciously +held—felt some misgivings when he saw Jim and noted his easy, +swaggering mien.</p> + +<p>"I've got to lick him again," thought Billy, "and I've got to be good +and ready for him this time. I must get a set of thoughts well learned +and hold 'em, or I'll be lammed out of my life."</p> + +<p>The youngsters met one day, each with his following of admirers, in a +vacant lot not far from the Lakeside House. There was a queer look in +Jim's eye when he hailed Billy, and there was instant response in +language of a violent character from the young disciple of Christian +Science. As the two stood in a ring of boys, each watching the other and +alert to catch some advantage of beginning, Billy was certainly the most +unconcerned, and he appeared to advantage. He was occupied throughout +every nerve and vein of his being, first in "holding the thought" he had +fixed upon for this special occasion, and second, by his plan of attack, +for Billy made it a point always to take the initiative in a fight.</p> + +<p>As for Jim, that active descendant of the Celts failed to exhibit that +alarm and apprehension which should appertain to a young gentleman of +his age when facing an antagonist who had "whaled" him repeatedly. His +face was neither sallow with long dread, nor white with pres<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1088" id="Page_1088">[Pg 1088]</a></span>ent fear +before his former conqueror. In fact, it must be said of him that he +capered about in a fashion not particularly graceful. He rose upon the +ends of his toes and made wild feints which Billy did not understand. It +was hard, under such disquieting circumstances, to hold a thought, and +Billy found himself struggling in mind for equilibrium while he stood +forward to the attack. He aimed a wild blow at his capering opponent, +and drove into soundless air only, and before he could recover himself +the capering opponent had "landed" on Billy's cheek in a most surprising +but altogether unrefreshing manner.</p> + +<p>The concussion made the cheek the color of an old-fashioned peony, and +the jar caused the nose to bleed a little as the astonished Billy +staggered back under the impact of a clenched fist.</p> + +<p>Then the real fight began, but Billy, though he made a strong effort to +rally, was beaten, and he knew, or thought he knew, why he was beaten. +"It was holding the thought that done it," he faltered, as he fell after +a quick stroke from Jim. He lay quiet on the grass, and his one wish was +to die. He fixed his mind resolutely upon this wish, but failed to die +at once; indeed he felt every moment the reviving forces of life +throbbing through his tough young body. How could he look up and face +his victorious foe? He decided rather to continue his efforts to die, +and forthwith stiffened out into such rigidity as can be observed only +in the bodies of those who have been dead forty-eight hours.</p> + +<p>This manœuver frightened the lads around him. "See here!" said Johnny +Flynn, "Billy's hurt bad, an' we ought to do something."</p> + +<p>"He looks dead!" whimpered little Davy Runnion, the smallest boy +present, and he ran off to tell Jim McMas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1089" id="Page_1089">[Pg 1089]</a></span>ters, who stood at ease, at a +short distance, arranging his disordered dress.</p> + +<p>The victor faltered as he looked upon Billy's stiffened limbs.</p> + +<p>"We must take him home," he said, ruefully.</p> + +<p>Four boys lifted Billy, two at his shoulders, two at his feet. In the +center he sagged slightly, despite his silent efforts to be rigidity +itself. The small procession was preceded by a rabble of white-faced +small boys, while the rear was guarded by Jim McMasters, meditating on +the reflection that victory might be too dearly bought. Just as they +reached the front steps of Mrs. Dodge's house, and were beginning the +tug up toward the door, Jim burst into a loud bawl, and this so much +disconcerted the youngsters who were carrying Billy that they almost +dropped him on the white door-stone.</p> + +<p>Johnny Flynn gave a mighty ring at the door-bell, and then fled down the +steps and ran to the street corner, where he stood, one foot in the air, +ready to run when the door opened. The neat maid who answered the bell +gave a little shriek when she saw Billy's inanimate form. The boys +pushed by her, dumped their burden upon the big hall sofa, and rushed +out before any questions could be asked. It was plain enough, however, +that Billy had got the worst of the fight. "And sure enough he deserves +it," mentally pronounced the servant maid as she ran to call her +mistress.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dodge gave a dismal shriek when she saw Billy. She sent the maid +for Dr. Gordon, and sat down on the sofa with Billy's head in her lap. +This was ignominious, and Billy decided to live. He opened his eyes, and +in a faint voice asked for water.</p> + +<p>When the man of medicine arrived he ordered the vanquished to bed. In +the goodness of his heart, pitying the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1090" id="Page_1090">[Pg 1090]</a></span> household of women, he even +carried Billy upstairs and assisted in undressing him. The doctor +noticed during this process various small folded papers flying out of +Billy's pockets, but he did not know their meaning. It was left for Cora +and Pearl, later in the day, to pick them up and examine them. Alas for +Billy's faith!</p> + +<p>In his own boyish handwriting were his inspiring "thoughts," "Never say +die," "Ketch hold prompt," etc. Billy turned his face to the wall with a +groan as the twins laid the slips of paper on his pillow.</p> + +<p>That evening, after Billy had held a long session of sweet, silent +thought, for he could not sleep, and had eaten a remarkably good supper, +he opened his mind to his mother.</p> + +<p>"No more of these for me," he began, brushing the texts from his bed +onto the floor.</p> + +<p>"Of what, Willy?" questioned Mrs. Dodge.</p> + +<p>"No more holdin' the thought, and all that," said Billy. "I'm through. +Had too much. That's what did me up. If I hadn't been trying to think +that blamed thought, I'd 'a' seen Jim a-comin'."</p> + +<p>"But, Willy," expostulated Mrs. Dodge, "you must hold fast."</p> + +<p>"Hold nothin'!" said Billy. He arose and sat up very straight in the +bed. "I tell you I am goin' to have no more nonsense. Gimme quinine, +hell, a gold basis, and capital punishment! That's my platform from this +on. I'm goin' to look up a good Sunday-school to-morrow, in a church +with a steeple on it, and a strict, regular minister, and all the +fixin's. Remember, mother, after this I travel on my muscle weekdays, +and keep Sunday like a clock!"</p> + +<p>The twins picked up the scattered thoughts from the floor—Billy was +lying in his mother's room—and their eyes were big with wonder.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1091" id="Page_1091">[Pg 1091]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Burn 'em!" commanded Billy. Then, on second thought, he relented +slightly. "Keep 'em yourself if you want to," he said to the twins. +"Holdin' the thought may be all right for girls, but with boys it don't +work!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1092" id="Page_1092">[Pg 1092]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SO WAGS THE WORLD</h2> + +<h3>BY ANNE WARNER</h3> + +<h3>(With apologies to Samuel Pepys, Esquire)</h3> + + +<h3><i>February first</i></h3> + +<p>My birthday and I exceedingly merry thereat having in divers friends and +much good wine beside two pasties and more of all than we could eat and +drink had we been doubled. Afterwards to the play-house and a very good +play and hence to a supper the which most hot and comforting with a butt +of brandy and divers cocktails and they being very full did make great +sport and joke me that I had never taken a wife to which replied neatly +saying that for my part in my twenties did feel myself too young and in +my thirties did never chance upon one comely and to my taste at which +great applause and pretty to see me bow to right and left although in +mortal fear lest something give way, I being grown heavier of late and +the quality of cloth suffering from the New York Custom House. The +applause being over did continue my speech and say that in my forties +had had little time to think of aught but my own personal affairs, but +that now being come to my fifties was well disposed to share them and +they did all drink to that and smash their glasses with right good cheer +prophesying my marriage and drinking long life to Her and me and Lord +but it did like me to hear speak of Her the which brought tears<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1093" id="Page_1093">[Pg 1093]</a></span> to mine +eyes, considering that they did speak of my wife, and so did weep freely +and they with me. My mind then a blank but home in some shape and the +maid did get me to my room and what a head this morning! Misliketh me +much to bethink me how I did comport myself, but a man is fifty but +once.</p> + +<p>To mine office where did buy and sell as usual.</p> + + +<h3><i>February third</i></h3> + +<p>Comes H. Nevil in a glass coach to take me to drive and did talk much of +his niece, she being fresh from France and of a good skin and fair +voice. Was of a great joy to ride in a glass coach and pleasant to look +constantly out backward, but great rattling and do think my modest +brougham sufficeth me well, but H. Nevil very disdainful of the brougham +and saith a man is known by the company he keepeth, the which strange in +mine eyes we being alone together in the coach but did go with him to a +horse dealer's.</p> + +<p>To mine office as usual and there did buy and sell.</p> + + +<h3><i>February eighth</i></h3> + +<p>To dine with H. Nevil and his wife and she a monstrous pleasant lady and +the dinner good only the wine poor and my vest too tight which vastly +misliked me, I being loth to grow stout and yet all at odds with my +belts, the which trying me sadly for I do pay my tailor as many do not. +And the niece a striking fine girl modest and not raising her eyes the +which much to my taste and drinking only lambs-wool and at cards knowing +not tierce from deuce. H. Nevil making great ado over my new coach did +have it out with pride and we to the Country<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1094" id="Page_1094">[Pg 1094]</a></span> Club for a late supper, +the which well-cooked but my vest much tighter and so home and to bed.</p> + +<p>Railway stocks risen two points.</p> + + +<h3><i>February twentieth</i></h3> + +<p>Did take a box at the Play and ask H. Nevil, his wife and niece and a +supper afterwards and pretty to see how miss did refuse mine eyes and +hardly speak two words, the which greatly to my admiration and after +supper did lead her to the coach and press her hand with curious effect +to mine own hair, the which strange and prickly and home and much +thinking on the merry talk at my birthday before sleep.</p> + +<p>Stocks falling somewhat.</p> + + +<h3><i>March nineteenth</i></h3> + +<p>Much agitated and all trembling and of a cold sweat. The Lord have mercy +and me all unwitting until in some strange way do find myself today +betrothed the which I do heartily pray to be for the good of all +concerned, although expensive and worse to come.</p> + +<p>No heart for stocks, but the same arising.</p> + + +<h3><i>April sixteenth</i></h3> + +<p>Do find the being betrothed more to my taste than anticipated and tell +H. Nevil he shall be remembered with pointers when the market turns +again. We to the park to drive each afternoon and many admiring of her +beauty, she desiring often to drive but I firm in refusing for I will be +master in my own house.</p> + +<p>Comes one Lasselle and makes a great tale of a mine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1095" id="Page_1095">[Pg 1095]</a></span> and I with no time +for him, but do set the office boy to look him up in Bradstreet.</p> + +<p>These be busy days with a corner on parsnips.</p> + + +<h3><i>May tenth</i></h3> + +<p>The business of being director in Lasselle's mine ended this day and to +a great dinner that he giveth in my honor and my portrait on all the +cards the which pleaseth me mightily and I all complimented and +congratulationed and sly hints on my approaching marriage to the which I +all smiles for Lord the thing being done one must be of good courage.</p> + +<p>Quotations low, beshrew them.</p> + + +<h3><i>June seventh (the Mountains)</i></h3> + +<p>Married this day and to do in a turmoil wheat being all a-rage and me +forced to go home to dress before noon. Did scarce know where I was with +Extras being cried outside the church window and H. Nevil giving the +bride away and on the wrong side of the market by my advice. The bride +hystericky in the carriage and at the station wept so that I was fair +beside myself. Did bethink me to kiss her in the train, but small +comfort to either. What will become of my affairs I know not, this place +being all without stock reports and I half mad and with naught to pass +the time.</p> + +<p>Comes my wife as I write and will have the key to her largest trunk the +same it doth appear is lost, the which on discovery she layeth at my +door and weepeth afresh. Did strive to cheer her but with a heavy +heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1096" id="Page_1096">[Pg 1096]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><i>August tenth</i></h3> + +<p>This do be the hottest summer in many years and lest I forget to set it +down more mad dogs than can well be handled. My wife very hystericky and +forever in a smock and declareth she would be dead and married life a +delusion, the which opinion I take small issue with having my hands full +of business and Lasselle forever at my heels with our affair of the mine +not to speak of H. Nevil which waileth continually over how he was +caught short in the month of June. Beshrew me if I repent not of June on +mine own behalf but am determined to live properly and so have +despatched a messenger to my cousin Sarah Badminton asking that she come +to keep mine house.</p> + + +<h3><i>August twentieth</i></h3> + +<p>Comes Sarah Badminton this day and Lord but a plain woman, being flat +like unto a board from her heels up unto her head, but curiously shaped +in and out in front. Still she do seem a worthy jade and good at heart +and ever attentive when I will to converse and sitteth with me of a +breakfast my wife being ever asleep till ten.</p> + +<p>Last night to the Play where comes Lasselle and makes very merry and +telleth jokes the which of great amusement to my wife while I find no +mirth therein. Later to supper at the coffee house and my wife +exceedingly witty and me all of a wonder at the change in her in public +and on reflection do find it passing strange that one ugly like Mistress +Badminton will effort her to be gracious at home while one so handsome +as my wife sleeps ever.</p> + +<p>To my office where did buy and sell as usual.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1097" id="Page_1097">[Pg 1097]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><i>September sixteenth</i></h3> + +<p>My wife not well and strangely indisposed towards me yawning unduly and +complaining that life is dull, yet gay enough for others and of a great +joy over riding horseback with Lasselle. Last night did chide her in bed +for upwards of an hour and misliked me greatly when I had done to find +that she slept for some while before. Will have the doctor to her for +there be surely something amiss in a woman who is not happy with me.</p> + +<p>To my office and H. Nevil all excitement over his margins.</p> + + +<h3><i>October twenty-ninth</i></h3> + +<p>Returned this day from a trip to the Coast and find my wife no better +although the doctor hath been with her each day. She saith the doctor +adviseth quiet until spring. Comes Mrs. Badminton her face all awry and +will that I go with her to Carlsbad and my affairs so many as never was +and never any lover of the sea. That which causeth me great vexation +that I have a wife and say flatly to Mrs. Badminton to ask the doctor if +he can not take her to Carlsbad any money being wiser than to travel +with oats where they be now and chicken feed going up to beat the band, +at which the good woman raiseth her hands aloft and maketh such +demonstration that I clean out of patience and basted her with the fire +shovel the same being not courteous but sadly necessary to all +appearance.</p> + + +<h3><i>November sixth</i></h3> + +<p>My wife most nervous and there being no peace with Her did discuss the +same with Lasselle to-day and al<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1098" id="Page_1098">[Pg 1098]</a></span>though unmarried yet did sympathize +much and advise for me with a right good will telling me of a place in +southern France where he hath been and the same beyond all else for the +nerves only lonely but that not so bad since he proposeth going there +this winter himself and can see after my wife somewhat the which greatly +to my relief and so home and did discourse thereon with Mistress +Badminton the which drew a long face and plain to see was dead against +the plan the which putting me in a fine temper with what a woman hath +for brains.</p> + +<p>Wheat rising and A. B. & C. going down comes H. Nevil short to borrow +the which crowneth my fury his niece being so far from making me happy +and he being the cause of all. But did indorse two notes for him and so +home and to bed with a bad grace and glad that my wife has betaken +herself to another room.</p> + + +<h3><i>December ninth</i></h3> + +<p>From the dock and my wife do be gone and now we may look for some peace +the which sad enough needed.</p> + + +<h3><i>December tenth</i></h3> + +<p>Comes H. Nevil all distraught to say that it is about at the clubs that +my wife will have a divorce and marry the doctor, on the which hearing I +much annoyed and summon Mrs. Badminton who denyeth the doctor but +asserteth Lasselle whereupon we in a great taking and much brandy and +soda but at last reflection and do decide not to sue but to pity +Lasselle for of a verity she be forever out of temper and flounceth when +questioned.</p> + +<p>To mine office and D. & E. going up comes H. Nevil to borrow again the +gall of which doth take me greatly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1099" id="Page_1099">[Pg 1099]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><i>January seventeenth</i></h3> + +<p>Am all of a taking for that the papers in my wife's divorce do be filed +into me this day and great to do when I learn that the cause she +declareth is Sarah Badminton a woman as little comely as never was and +mine own cousin. Verily the ways of a wife be past understanding.</p> + + +<h3><i>April eleventh</i></h3> + +<p>Free this day and being free comes Mrs. Badminton weeping and declareth +she be ruined if I marry her not next the which doth so overcome me that +ere I have time to rally she hath kissed me and called me hers.</p> + +<p>To my office with a heavy heart having no assurance of how this second +marriage will turn out and little hope but seeing H. Nevil with a long +face did refuse to give him any inside information the which led to his +going under about noon to my great joy for it was he who did get me in +this marrying habit.</p> + + +<h3><i>February first</i></h3> + +<p>My birthday and Lord what eating and drinking the which being good +beyond compare my wife staying in the pantry to keep the whole in trim +and all my friends discoursing on my joy the which is truly great she +being so plain that a man will never look at her and so loving that she +adoreth me come smiles come frowns.</p> + +<p>But that which doth astonish me much is that H. Nevil telleth me that +she that was once my wife is of exceeding content with Lasselle a piece +of news which I can scarce credit comparing him with myself.</p> + +<p>But so wags the world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1100" id="Page_1100">[Pg 1100]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE PAINTERMINE<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY KENYON COX</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Its innocence deserves no jibe—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pity the creature, do not mock it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis type of all the artist tribe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its trousers haven't any pocket!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1101" id="Page_1101">[Pg 1101]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE ADVERTISER</h2> + +<h3>BY EUGENE FIELD</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am an advertiser great!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In letters bold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The praises of my wares I sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prosperity is my estate;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The people come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The people go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In one continuous,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Surging flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They buy my goods and come again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'm the happiest of men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this the reason I relate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm an advertiser great!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a shop across the way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where ne'er is heard a human tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where trade is paralyzed and dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ne'er a customer a day.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The people come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The people go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But never there.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They do not know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's such a shop beneath the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because <i>he</i> does not advertise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I with pleasure contemplate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I'm an advertiser great.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1102" id="Page_1102">[Pg 1102]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The secret of my fortune lies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In one small fact, which I may state,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too many tradesmen learn too late,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I have goods, I advertise.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then people come<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And people go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In constant streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For people know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he who has good wares to sell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will surely advertise them well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And proudly I reiterate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am an advertiser great!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1103" id="Page_1103">[Pg 1103]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE FAMOUS MULLIGAN BALL</h2> + +<h3>BY FRANK L. STANTON</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Did ever you hear of the Mulligan ball—the Mulligan ball so fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we formed in ranks, and danced on planks, and swung 'em along the line?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the first Four Hundred of the town moved at the music's call?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was never a ball in the world at all—like the famous Mulligan ball!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Town was a bit of a village then, and never a house or shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From street to street and beat to beat was higher than Mulligan's head!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never a theater troup came round to 'liven us, spring or fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so Mulligan's wife she says, says she: "Plaze God, I'll give a ball!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And she did—God rest her, and save her, too! (I'm liftin' to her my hat!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never a ball at all, at all, was half as fine as that!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never no invitations sent—nothin' like that at all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the whole Four Hundred combed their hair and went to the Mulligan ball.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1104" id="Page_1104">[Pg 1104]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And "Take yer places!" says Mulligan, "an' dance till you shake the wall!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I led Mrs. Mulligan off as the lady that gave the ball;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we whirled around till we shook the ground, with never a stop at all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I kicked the heels from my boots—please God—at the famous Mulligan ball.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mulligan jumped till he hit the roof, and the head of him went clean through it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shingles fell on the floor pell-mell! Says Mulligan: "Faith, I knew it!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we kept right on when the roof was gone, with never a break at all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We danced away till the break o' day at the famous Mulligan ball.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the best of things must pass away like the flowers that fade and fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it's fifty years, as the records say, since we danced at Mulligan's ball;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the new Four Hundred never dance like the Mulligans danced—at all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'm longing still, though my hair is gray, for a ball like Mulligan's ball!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I drift in dreams to the old-time town, and I hear the fiddle sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Mulligan sashays up and down till the rafters rock and ring!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suppose, if I had a woman's eye, maybe a tear would fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the old-time fellows who took the prize at the famous Mulligan ball!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1105" id="Page_1105">[Pg 1105]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE GENIAL IDIOT DISCUSSES THE MUSIC CURE</h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS</h3> + + +<p>"Good morning, Doctor," said the Idiot as Capsule, M.D., entered the +dining-room. "I am mighty glad you've come. I've wanted for a long time +to ask you about this music cure that everybody is talking about and get +you if possible to write me out a list of musical nostrums for every day +use. I noticed last night before going to bed that my medicine chest was +about run out. There's nothing but one quinine pill and a soda-mint drop +in it, and if there's anything in the music cure I don't think I'll have +it filled again. I prefer Wagner to squills, and compared to the +delights of Mozart, Hayden and Offenbach those of paregoric are nit."</p> + +<p>"Still rambling, eh?" vouchsafed the Doctor. "You ought to submit your +tongue to some scientific student of dynamics. I am inclined to think, +from my own observation of its ways, that it contains the germ of +perpetual motion."</p> + +<p>"I will consider your suggestion," replied the Idiot. "Meanwhile, let us +consult harmoniously together on the original point. Is there anything +in this music cure, and is it true that our Medical Schools are +hereafter to have conservatories attached to them in which aspiring +young M.D.'s are to be taught the <i>materia musica</i> in addition to the +<i>materia medica</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I had heard of no such idiotic proposition," returned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1106" id="Page_1106">[Pg 1106]</a></span> the Doctor. "And +as for the music cure I don't know anything about it. Haven't heard +everybody talking about it, and doubt the existence of any such thing +outside of that mysterious realm which is bounded by the four corners of +your own bright particular cerebellum. What do you mean by the music +cure?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the papers have been full of it lately," explained the Idiot. "The +claim is made that in music lies the panacea for all human ills. It may +not be able to perform a surgical operation like that which is required +for the removal of a leg, and I don't believe even Wagner ever composed +a measure that could be counted on successfully to eliminate one's +vermiform appendix from its chief sphere of usefulness, but for other +things, like measles, mumps, the snuffles, or indigestion, it is said to +be wonderfully efficacious; What I wanted to find out from you was just +what composers were best for which specific troubles."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to go to somebody else for the information," said the +Doctor. "I never heard of the theory and, as I said before, I don't +believe anybody else has, barring your own sweet self."</p> + +<p>"I have seen a reference to it somewhere," put in Mr. Whitechoker, +coming to the Idiot's rescue. "As I recall the matter, some lady had +been cured of a nervous affection by a scientific application of some +musical poultice or other, and the general expectation seems to be that +some day we shall find in music a cure for all our human ills, as the +Idiot suggests."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mr. Whitechoker," said the Idiot gratefully. "I saw that +same item and several others besides, and I have only told the truth +when I say that a large number of people are considering the +possibilities of music as a substitute for drugs. I am surprised that +Doctor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1107" id="Page_1107">[Pg 1107]</a></span> Capsule has neither heard nor thought about it, for I should +think it would prove to be a pleasant and profitable field for +speculation. Even I who am only a dabbler in medicine, and know no more +about it than the effects of certain remedies upon my own symptoms, have +noticed that music of a certain sort is a sure emollient for nervous +conditions."</p> + +<p>"For example?" said the Doctor. "Of course we don't doubt your word, but +when a man makes a statement based upon personal observation it is +profitable to ask him what his precise experience has been merely for +the purpose of adding to our own knowledge."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Idiot, "the first instance that I can recall is that of +a Wagner Opera and its effects upon me. For a number of years I suffered +a great deal from insomnia. I could not get two hours of consecutive +sleep and the effect of my sufferings was to make me nervous and +irritable. Suddenly somebody presented me with a couple of tickets for a +performance of Parsifal and I went. It began at five o'clock in the +afternoon. For twenty minutes all went serenely and then the music began +to work. I fell into a deep and refreshing slumber. The intermission +came, and still I slept on. Everybody else went home, dressed for the +evening part of the performance, had their dinner, and returned. Still I +slept and continued so to do until midnight when one of the gentlemanly +ushers came and waked me up and told me that the performance was over. I +rubbed my eyes and looked about me. It was true, the great auditorium +was empty, and was gradually darkening. I put on my hat and walked out +refreshed, having slept from five twenty until twelve, or six hours and +forty minutes, straight. That was one instance. Two weeks later I went +again, this time to hear <i>Die Goetherdammerung</i>. The results were the +same, only the effect was in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1108" id="Page_1108">[Pg 1108]</a></span>stantaneous. The curtain had hardly risen +before I retired to the little ante-room of the box our party occupied +and dozed off into a fathomless sleep. I didn't wake up this time until +nine o'clock the next day, the rest of the party having gone off without +awakening me, as a sort of joke. Clearly Wagner, according to my way of +thinking, then deserves to rank among the most effective narcotics known +to modern science. I have tried all sorts of other things—sulfonal, +trionel, bromide powders, and all the rest and not one of them produced +anything like the soporific results that two doses of Wagner brought +about in one instant, and best of all there was no reaction. No +splitting headache or shaky hand the next day, but just the calm, quiet, +contented feeling that goes with the sense of having got completely +rested up."</p> + +<p>"You run a dreadful risk, however," said the Doctor, with a sarcastic +smile. "The Wagner habit is a terrible thing to acquire, Mr. Idiot."</p> + +<p>"That may be," said the Idiot. "Worse than the sulfonal habit by a great +deal I am told, but I am in no danger of becoming a victim to it while +it costs from five to seven dollars a dose. In addition to this +experience I have also the testimony of a friend of mine who was cured +of a frightful attack of the colic by Sullivan's Lost Chord played on a +Cornet. He had spent the day down at Asbury Park and had eaten not +wisely but too copiously. Among other things that he turned loose in his +inner man were two plates of Lobster Salade, a glass of fresh cider and +a saucerful of pistache ice-cream. He was a painter by profession and +the color scheme he thus introduced into his digestive apparatus was too +much for his artistic soul. He was not fitted by temperament to +assimilate anything quite so strenuously chromatic as that, and as a +consequence shortly after he had retired to his studio for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1109" id="Page_1109">[Pg 1109]</a></span> night +the conflicting tints began to get in their deadly work and within two +hours he was completely doubled up. The pain he suffered was awful. +Agony was bliss alongside of the pangs that now afflicted him and all +the palliatives and pain killers known to man were tried without avail, +and then, just as he was about to give himself up for lost, an amateur +cornetist who occupied a studio on the floor above began to play the +Lost Chord. A counter-pain set in immediately. At the second bar of the +Lost Chord the awful pain that was gradually gnawing away at his vitals +seemed to lose its poignancy in the face of the greater suffering, and +physical relief was instant. As the musician proceeded the internal +disorder yielded gradually to the external and finally passed away +entirely, leaving him so far from prostrated that by one <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> he was out +of bed and actually girding himself with a shotgun and an Indian Club to +go upstairs for a physical encounter with the cornetist."</p> + +<p>"And you reason from this that Sullivan's Lost Chord is a cure for +Cholera morbus, eh?" sneered the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"It would seem so," said the Idiot. "While the music continued my friend +was a well man ready to go out and fight like a warrior, but when the +cornetist stopped—the colic returned and he had to fight it out in the +old way. In these episodes in my own experience I find ample +justification for my belief and that of others that some day the music +cure for human ailments will be recognized and developed to the full. +Families going off to the country for the summer instead of taking a +medicine-chest along with them will go provided with a music-box with +cylinders for mumps, measles, summer complaint, whooping-cough, +chicken-pox, chills and fever and all the other ills the flesh is heir +to. Scientific experiment will demonstrate before long what composition +will cure specific ills. If a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1110" id="Page_1110">[Pg 1110]</a></span> baby has whooping-cough, an anxious +mother, instead of ringing up the Doctor, will go to the piano and give +the child a dose of Hiawatha. If a small boy goes swimming and catches a +cold in his head and is down with a fever, his nurse, an expert on the +accordeon, can bring him back to health again with three bars of Under +the Bamboo Tree after each meal. Instead of dosing kids with cod liver +oil when they need a tonic, they will be set to work at a mechanical +piano and braced up on Narcissus. There'll Be a Hot Time In The Old Town +To-Night will become an effective remedy for a sudden chill. People +suffering from sleeplessness can dose themselves back to normal +conditions again with Wagner the way I did. Tchaikowski, to be well +Tshaken before taken, will be an effective remedy for a torpid liver, +and the man or woman who suffers from lassitude will doubtless find in +the lively airs of our two-step composers an efficient tonic to bring +their vitality up to a high standard of activity. Nothing in it? Why, +Doctor, there's more in it that's in sight to-day that is promising and +suggestive of great things in the future than there was of the principle +of gravitation in the rude act of that historic pippin that left the +parent tree and swatted Sir Isaac Newton on the nose."</p> + +<p>"And the Drug Stores will be driven out of business, I presume," said +the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"No," said the Idiot. "They will substitute music for drugs, that is +all. Every man who can afford it will have his own medical phonograph or +music-box, and the drug stores will sell cylinders and records for them +instead of quinine, carbonate of soda, squills, paregoric and other +nasty tasting things they have now. This alone will serve to popularize +sickness and instead of being driven out of business their trade will +pick up."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1111" id="Page_1111">[Pg 1111]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And the Doctor? And the Doctor's gig and all the appurtenances of his +profession—what becomes of them?" demanded the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to have the Doctor just the same to prescribe for us, only +he will have to be a musician, but the gig—I'm afraid that will have to +go," said the Idiot.</p> + +<p>"And why, pray?" asked the Doctor. "Because there are no more drugs must +the physician walk?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said the Idiot. "But he'd be better equipped if he drove +about in a piano-organ, or if he preferred an auto on a steam +calliope."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1112" id="Page_1112">[Pg 1112]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE OCTOPUSSYCAT<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY KENYON COX</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love Octopussy, his arms are so long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's nothing in nature so sweet as his song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis true I'd not touch him—no, not for a farm!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I keep at a distance he'll do me no harm.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1113" id="Page_1113">[Pg 1113]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE BOOK-CANVASSER</h2> + +<h3>ANONYMOUS</h3> + + +<p>He came into my office with a portfolio under his arm. Placing it upon +the table, removing a ruined hat, and wiping his nose upon a ragged +handkerchief that had been so long out of the wash that it was +positively gloomy, he said,—</p> + +<p>"Mr. ——, I'm canvassing for the National Portrait Gallery; very +valuable work; comes in numbers, fifty cents apiece; contains pictures +of all the great American heroes from the earliest times down to the +present day. Everybody subscribing for it, and I want to see if I can't +take your name.</p> + +<p>"Now, just cast your eyes over that," he said, opening his book and +pointing to an engraving. "That's—lemme see—yes, that's Columbus. +Perhaps you've heard sumfin' about him? The publisher was telling me +to-day before I started out that he discovered—no; was it Columbus that +dis—oh, yes, Columbus he discovered America,—was the first man here. +He came over in a ship, the publisher said, and it took fire, and he +stayed on deck because his father told him to, if I remember right, and +when the old thing busted to pieces he was killed. Handsome picture, +ain't it? Taken from a photograph; all of 'em are; done especially for +this work. His clothes are kinder odd, but they say that's the way they +dressed in them days.</p> + +<p>"Look at this one. Now, isn't that splendid? That's William Penn, one of +the early settlers. I was reading<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1114" id="Page_1114">[Pg 1114]</a></span> t'other day about him. When he first +arrived he got a lot of Indians up a tree, and when they shook some +apples down he set one on top of his son's head and shot an arrow plump +through it and never fazed him. They say it struck them Indians cold, he +was such a terrific shooter. Fine countenance, hasn't he? face shaved +clean; he didn't wear a moustache, I believe, but he seems to have let +himself out on hair. Now, my view is that every man ought to have a +picture of that patriarch, so's to see how the fust settlers looked and +what kind of weskets they used to wear. See his legs, too! Trousers a +little short, maybe, as if he was going to wade in a creek; but he's all +there. Got some kind of a paper in his hand, I see. Subscription-list, I +reckon. Now, how does that strike you?</p> + +<p>"There's something nice. That, I think is—is—that—a—a—yes, to be +sure, Washington; you recollect him, of course? Some people call him +Father of his Country. George—Washington. Had no middle name, I +believe. He lived about two hundred years ago, and he was a fighter. I +heard the publisher telling a man about him crossing the Delaware River +up yer at Trenton, and seems to me, if I recollect right, I've read +about it myself. He was courting some girl on the Jersey side, and he +used to swim over at nights to see her when the old man was asleep. The +girl's family were down on him, I reckon. He looks like a man to do +that, don't he? He's got it in his eye. If it'd been me I'd gone over on +a bridge; but he probably wanted to show off afore her; some men are so +reckless, you know. Now, if you'll conclude to take this I'll get the +publisher to write out some more stories, and bring 'em round to you, +so's you can study up on him. I know he did ever so many other things, +but I've forgot 'em; my memory's so awful poor.</p> + +<p>"Less see! Who have we next? Ah, Franklin! Ben<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1115" id="Page_1115">[Pg 1115]</a></span>jamin Franklin! He was +one of the old original pioneers, I think. I disremember exactly what he +is celebrated for, but I think it was a flying a—oh, yes, flying a +kite, that's it. The publisher mentioned it. He was out one day flying a +kite, you know, like boys do nowadays, and while she was a-flickering up +in the sky, and he was giving her more string, an apple fell off a tree +and hit him on the head; then he discovered the attraction of +gravitation, I think they call it. Smart, wasn't it? Now, if you or me'd +'a' ben hit, it'd just made us mad, like as not, and set us a-ravin'. +But men are so different. One man's meat's another man's pison. See what +a double chin he's got. No beard on him, either, though a goatee would +have been becoming to such a round face. He hasn't got on a sword, and I +reckon he was no soldier; fit some when he was a boy, maybe, or went out +with the home-guard, but not a regular warrior. I ain't one myself, and +I think all the better of him for it.</p> + +<p>"Ah, here we are! Look at that! Smith and Pocahontas! John Smith! Isn't +that gorgeous? See how she kneels over him, and sticks out her hands +while he lays on the ground and that big fellow with a club tries to +hammer him up. Talk about woman's love! There it is for you. Modocs, I +believe; anyway, some Indians out West there, somewheres; and the +publisher tells me that Captain Shackanasty, or whatever his name is, +there, was going to bang old Smith over the head with a log of wood, and +this here girl she was sweet on Smith, it appears, and she broke loose, +and jumped forward, and says to the man with a stick, 'Why don't you let +John alone? Me and him are going to marry, and if you kill him I'll +never speak to you as long as I live,' or words like them, and so the +man he give it up, and both of them hunted up a preacher and were +married and lived happy ever after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1116" id="Page_1116">[Pg 1116]</a></span>ward. Beautiful story, isn't it? A +good wife she made him, too, I'll bet, if she was a little +copper-colored. And don't she look just lovely in that picture? But +Smith appears kinder sick; evidently thinks his goose is cooked; and I +don't wonder, with that Modoc swooping down on him with such a +discouraging club.</p> + +<p>"And now we come to—to—ah—to—Putnam,—General Putnam: he fought in +the war, too; and one day a lot of 'em caught him when he was off his +guard, and they tied him flat on his back on a horse and then licked the +horse like the very mischief. And what does that horse do but go +pitching down about four hundred stone steps in front of the house, with +General Putnam lying there nearly skeered to death! Leastways, the +publisher said somehow that way, and I once read about it myself. But he +came out safe, and I reckon sold the horse and made a pretty good thing +of it. What surprises me is he didn't break his neck; but maybe it was a +mule, for they're pretty sure-footed, you know. Surprising what some of +these men have gone through, ain't it?</p> + +<p>"Turn over a couple of leaves. That's General Jackson. My father shook +hands with him once. He was a fighter, I know. He fit down in New +Orleans. Broke up the rebel legislature, and then when the Ku-Kluxes got +after him he fought 'em behind cotton breastworks and licked 'em till +they couldn't stand. They say he was terrific when he got real mad,—hit +straight from the shoulder, and fetched his man every time. Andrew his +fust name was; and look how his hair stands up.</p> + +<p>"And then here's John Adams, and Daniel Boone, and two or three pirates, +and a whole lot more pictures; so you see it's cheap as dirt. Lemme have +your name, won't you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1117" id="Page_1117">[Pg 1117]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>HER VALENTINE</h2> + +<h3>BY RICHARD HOVEY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What, send her a valentine? Never!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see you don't know who "she" is.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should ruin my chances forever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hopes would collapse with a fizz.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I can't see why she scents such disaster<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I take heart to venture a word;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've no dream of becoming her master,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've no notion of being her lord.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All I want is to just be her lover!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's the most up-to-date of her sex,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there's such a multitude of her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wonder they call her complex.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She's a bachelor, even when married,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's a vagabond, even when housed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if ever her citadel's carried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her suspicions must not be aroused.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She's erratic, impulsive and human,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she blunders,—as goddesses can;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if <i>she's</i> what they call the New Woman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then <i>I'd</i> like to be the New Man.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1118" id="Page_1118">[Pg 1118]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm glad she makes books and paints pictures,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And typewrites and hoes her own row,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it's quite beyond reach of conjectures<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How much further she's going to go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When she scorns, in the L-road, my proffer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a seat and hangs on to a strap;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I admire her so much, I could offer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To let her ride up on my lap.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let her undo the stays of the ages,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That have cramped and confined her so long!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let her burst through the frail candy cages<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fooled her to think they were strong!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She may enter life's wide vagabondage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She may do without flutter or frill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She may take off the chains of her bondage,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And anything else that she will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She may take <i>me</i> off, for example,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she probably does when I'm gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm aware the occasion is ample;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's why I so often take on.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm so glad she can win her own dollars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And know all the freedom it brings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love her in shirt-waists and collars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love her in dress-reform things.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love her in bicycle skirtlings—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Especially when there's a breeze—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love her in crinklings and quirklings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And anything else that you please.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1119" id="Page_1119">[Pg 1119]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dote on her even in bloomers—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Parisian enough in their style—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fact, she may choose her costumers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever her fancy beguile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She may box, she may shoot, she may wrestle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She may argue, hold office or vote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She may engineer turret or trestle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And build a few ships that will float.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She may lecture (all lectures but curtain)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make money, and naturally spend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I let her have <i>her</i> way, I'm certain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She'll let me have <i>mine</i> in the end!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1120" id="Page_1120">[Pg 1120]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE WELSH RABBITTERN<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY KENYON COX</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is a very fearsome bird<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who sits upon men's chests at night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With horrid stare his eyeballs glare:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He flies away at morning's light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1121" id="Page_1121">[Pg 1121]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>COMIC MISERIES</h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN G. SAXE</h3> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My dear young friend, whose shining wit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sets all the room ablaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't think yourself "a happy dog,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For all your merry ways;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But learn to wear a sober phiz,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be stupid, if you can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's such a very serious thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be a funny man!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You're at an evening party, with<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A group of pleasant folks,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You venture quietly to crack<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The least of little jokes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lady doesn't catch the point,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And begs you to explain,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas for one who drops a jest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And takes it up again!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You're taking deep philosophy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With very special force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To edify a clergyman<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With suitable discourse:</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1122" id="Page_1122">[Pg 1122]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">You think you've got him,—when he calls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A friend across the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And begs you'll say that funny thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You said the other day!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You drop a pretty <i>jeu-de-mot</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into a neighbor's ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who likes to give you credit for<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The clever thing he hears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so he hawks your jest about,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The old, authentic one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just breaking off the point of it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leaving out the pun!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By sudden change in politics,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or sadder change in Polly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You lose your love, or loaves, and fall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A prey to melancholy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While everybody marvels why<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your mirth is under ban,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They think your very grief "a joke,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You're such a funny man!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You follow up a stylish card<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bids you come and dine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bring along your freshest wit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(To pay for musty wine);</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1123" id="Page_1123">[Pg 1123]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">You're looking very dismal, when<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lady bounces in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wonders what you're thinking of,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And why you don't begin!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You're telling to a knot of friends<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fancy-tale of woes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cloud your matrimonial sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And banish all repose,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A solemn lady overhears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The story of your strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tells the town the pleasant news:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You quarrel with your wife!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My dear young friend, whose shining wit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sets all the room ablaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't think yourself "a happy dog,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For all your merry ways;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But learn to wear a sober phiz,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be stupid, if you can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's such a very serious thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be a funny man!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1124" id="Page_1124">[Pg 1124]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE MERCHANT AND THE BOOK-AGENT</h2> + +<h3>ANONYMOUS</h3> + + +<p>A book-agent importuned James Watson, a rich merchant living a few miles +out of the city, until he bought a book,—the "Early Christian Martyrs." +Mr. Watson didn't want the book, but he bought it to get rid of the +agent; then, taking it under his arm, he started for the train which +takes him to his office in the city.</p> + +<p>Mr. Watson hadn't been gone long before Mrs. Watson came home from a +neighbor's. The book-agent saw her, and went in and persuaded the wife +to buy a copy of the book. She was ignorant of the fact that her husband +had bought the same book in the morning. When Mr. Watson came back in +the evening, he met his wife with a cheery smile as he said, "Well, my +dear, how have you enjoyed yourself to-day? Well, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! had an early caller this morning."</p> + +<p>"Ah, and who was she?"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't a 'she' at all; it was a gentleman,—a book-agent."</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A book-agent; and to get rid of his importuning I bought his book,—the +'Early Christian Martyrs.' See, here it is," she exclaimed, advancing +toward her husband.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to see it," said Watson, frowning terribly.</p> + +<p>"Why, husband?" asked his wife.</p> + +<p>"Because that rascally book-agent sold me the same book this morning. +Now we've got two copies of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1125" id="Page_1125">[Pg 1125]</a></span> same book,—two copies of the 'Early +Christian Martyrs,' and—"</p> + +<p>"But, husband, we can—"</p> + +<p>"No, we can't, either!" interrupted Mr. Watson. "The man is off on the +train before this. Confound it! I could kill the fellow. I—"</p> + +<p>"Why, there he goes to the depot now," said Mrs. Watson, pointing out of +the window at the retreating form of the book-agent making for the +train.</p> + +<p>"But it's too late to catch him, and I'm not dressed. I've taken off my +boots, and—"</p> + +<p>Just then Mr. Stevens, a neighbor of Mr. Watson, drove by, when Mr. +Watson pounded on the window-pane in a frantic manner, almost +frightening the horse.</p> + +<p>"Here, Stevens!" he shouted, "you're hitched up! Won't you run your +horse down to the train and hold that book-agent till I come? Run! Catch +'im now!"</p> + +<p>"All right," said Mr. Stevens, whipping up his horse and tearing down +the road.</p> + +<p>Mr. Stevens reached the train just as the conductor shouted, "All +aboard!"</p> + +<p>"Book-agent!" he yelled, as the book-agent stepped on the train. +"Book-agent, hold on! Mr. Watson wants to see you."</p> + +<p>"Watson? Watson wants to see me?" repeated the seemingly puzzled +book-agent. "Oh, I know what he wants: he wants to buy one of my books; +but I can't miss the train to sell it to him."</p> + +<p>"If that is all he wants, I can pay for it and take it back to him. How +much is it?"</p> + +<p>"Two dollars, for the 'Early Christian Martyrs,'" said the book-agent, +as he reached for the money and passed the book out of the car-window.</p> + +<p>Just then Mr. Watson arrived, puffing and blowing, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1126" id="Page_1126">[Pg 1126]</a></span> his +shirt-sleeves. As he saw the train pull out he was too full for +utterance.</p> + +<p>"Well, I got it for you," said Stevens,—"just got it, and that's all."</p> + +<p>"Got what?" yelled Watson.</p> + +<p>"Why, I got the book,—'Early Christian Martyrs,'—and paid—"</p> + +<p>"By—the—great—guns!" moaned Watson, as he placed his hands to his +brow and swooned right in the middle of the street.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1127" id="Page_1127">[Pg 1127]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE COQUETTE</h2> + +<h3><i>A Portrait</i></h3> + +<h3>BY JOHN G. SAXE</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"You're clever at drawing, I own,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said my beautiful cousin Lisette,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As we sat by the window alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"But say, can you paint a Coquette?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She's painted already," quoth I;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Nay, nay!" said the laughing Lisette,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now none of your joking,—but try<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And paint me a thorough Coquette."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Well, cousin," at once I began<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the ear of the eager Lisette,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I'll paint you as well as I can<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wonderful thing, a Coquette.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She wears a most beautiful face,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">("Of course!" said the pretty Lisette),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And isn't deficient in grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or else she were not a Coquette.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And then she is daintily made"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(A smile from the dainty Lisette),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"By people expert in the trade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of forming a proper Coquette.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1128" id="Page_1128">[Pg 1128]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She's the winningest ways with the beaux,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">("Go on!"—said the winning Lisette),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But there isn't a man of them knows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mind of the fickle Coquette!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She knows how to weep and to sigh,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(A sigh from the tender Lisette),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But her weeping is all in my eye,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not that of the cunning Coquette!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In short, she's a creature of art,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">("Oh hush!" said the frowning Lisette),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"With merely the ghost of a heart,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enough for a thorough Coquette.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And yet I could easily prove"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">("Now don't!" said the angry Lisette),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The lady is always in love,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In love with herself,—the Coquette!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There,—do not be angry!—you know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My dear little cousin Lisette,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You told me a moment ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To paint <i>you</i>—a thorough Coquette!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1129" id="Page_1129">[Pg 1129]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A SPRING FEELING</h2> + +<h3>BY BLISS CARMAN</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I think it must be spring. I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All broken up and thawed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm sick of everybody's "wheel";<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'm sick of being jawed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am too winter-killed to live,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cold-sour through and through.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Heavenly Barber, come and give<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My soul a dry shampoo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm sick of all these nincompoops,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who weep through yards of verse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all these sonneteering dupes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who whine and froth and curse.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm sick of seeing my own name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tagged to some paltry line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While this old <i>corpus</i> without shame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sits down to meat and wine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm sick of all these Yellow Books,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all these Bodley Heads;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm sick of all these freaks and spooks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And frights in double leads.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1130" id="Page_1130">[Pg 1130]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When good Napoleon's publisher<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was dangled from a limb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He should have had an editor<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On either side of him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm sick of all this taking on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Under a foreign name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when you call it <i>decadent</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It's rotten just the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm sick of all this puling trash<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And namby-pamby rot,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Pegasus you have to thrash<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make him even trot!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An Age-end Art! I would not give,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For all their plotless plays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One round Flagstaffian adjective<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or one Miltonic phrase.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm sick of all this poppycock<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In bilious green and blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm tired to death of taking stock<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of everything that's "New."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">New Art, New Movements, and New Schools,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All maimed and blind and halt!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the fads of the New Fools<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who can not earn their salt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm sick of the New Woman, too.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Good Lord, she's worst of all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her rights, her sphere, her point of view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all that folderol!</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1131" id="Page_1131">[Pg 1131]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She makes me wish I were the snake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inside of Eden's wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give the tree another shake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And see another fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm very much of Byron's mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I like sufficiency;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But just the common garden kind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is good enough for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I want to find a warm beech wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lie down, and keep still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swear a little; and feel good;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then loaf on up the hill,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And let the Spring house-clean my brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where all this stuff is crammed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let my heart grow sweet again;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let the Age be damned.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1132" id="Page_1132">[Pg 1132]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>WASTED OPPORTUNITIES<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY ROY FARRELL GREENE</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lips I might have tasted, rosy ripe as any cherry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How they pair off by the dozens when my memory goes back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the current of the years aboard of Fancy's ferry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which shuns the shores of What-We-Have and touches What-We-Lack.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The girl I took t' singin'-school one night, who vowed she'd never<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before walked with a feller 'thout her mother bein' by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I reckon that her temptin' mouth will haunt my dreams forever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I recollect another girl, as chipper as a robin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who rode beside me in a sleigh one night through snow an' sleet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' both my hands I kept in use a guidin' good ol' Dobbin—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One didn't need them any mor'n a chicken needs four feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too scared was I to hold her in, or warm her cheeks with kisses,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I know, now, she expected it, for once I heard her sigh—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day I'd like t' kick myself for these neglected blisses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1133" id="Page_1133">[Pg 1133]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I never kissed Rebecca, she was sober as a Quaker,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I never kissed Alvira, though I took her home one night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That city cousin of the Smiths, a Miss Myrtilla Baker,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though scores of opportunities slipped by me, left an' right.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It makes me hate myself to-day when I on Fancy's ferry<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have crossed the current of the years to olden days gone by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T' think of all the lips I've missed, ripe-red as topmost cherry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1134" id="Page_1134">[Pg 1134]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE WEDDIN'</h2> + +<h3>BY JENNIE BETTS HARTSWICK</h3> + + +<p>Well, it's over, it's <i>all</i> over—bein' the last to leave I know +<i>that</i>—and I declare, I'm that full of all the things we had to eat +that John and me won't want any supper for a good hour yet, so I just +ran in to tell you about it while it's on top of my mind.</p> + +<p>It's an everlastin' shame you had to miss it! One thing, though, you'll +get a trayful of the good things sent in to you, I shouldn't wonder. I +know there's loads left, for I happened to slip out to the kitchen for a +drink of water—I was that <i>dry</i> after all those salty nuts, and I +didn't want to trouble 'em—and I saw just <i>heaps</i> of things standin' +round.</p> + +<p>Most likely you'll get a good, large plate of cake, not just a pinchin' +little mite of a piece in a box. The boxes is real pretty, though, and +they did look real palatial all stacked up on a table by the front door +with a strange colored man, in white gloves like a pall-bearer, to hand +'em to you.</p> + +<p>How did I get two of 'em? Why, it just happened that way. You see, when +I was leavin' I missed my sun-shade and I laid my box down on the +hatrack-stand while I went upstairs to look for it. I went through all +the rooms, and just when I'd about given it up, why, there it was, right +in my hand all the time! Wasn't it foolish? And when I came downstairs I +found I'd clean forgot where I'd laid that box of cake. I hunted +<i>everywhere</i>, and then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1135" id="Page_1135">[Pg 1135]</a></span> I just had to tell the man how 'twas, so he +handed me another one, and I was just walkin' out the front door when, +would you believe it! if there wasn't the <i>other</i> one, just as innocent, +on the hatrack-stand where I had laid it. So now I have three of 'em, +countin' John's.</p> + +<p>I just can't seem to realize that Eleanor Jamison is married at last, +can you? She took her time if ever anybody did. They do say she was real +taken with that young college professor with the full beard and +spectacles that visited there last summer, and then to think that, after +all, she went and married a man with a smooth face. He wears glasses, +though; that's one point in common.</p> + +<p>Eleanor's gone off a good deal lately, don't you think so? You hadn't +noticed it? But then you never was any great hand at noticin', I've +noticed you weren't. Why, the other day when I was there offerin' to +help 'em get ready for the weddin' I noticed that she looked real +<i>worn</i>, and there was two or three little fine lines in her +eye-corners—not real <i>wrinkles</i>, of course—but we all know that lines +is a forerunner. Her hair's beginnin' to turn, too; I noticed that +comin' out of church last Sunday. I dare say her knowing this made her +less particular than she'd once have been; and after all, marryin' any +husband is a good deal like buyin' a new black silk dress pattern—an +awful risk.</p> + +<p>You may look at it on both sides and hold it up to the light, and pull +it to see if it'll fray and try if it'll spot, but you can't be sure +what it'll do till after you've worn it a spell.</p> + +<p>There's one advantage to the dress pattern, though—you can make 'em +take it back if you mistrust it won't wear—if you haven't cut into it, +that is—but when you've got a husband, why, you've <i>got</i> him, to have +and to hold, for better and worse and good and all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1136" id="Page_1136">[Pg 1136]</a></span></p> + +<p>Yes, I'm comin' to the weddin'—I declare, when I think how careless +Eleanor is about little things I can't help mistrusting what kind of a +housekeeper she'll turn out. Why, when John's and my invitation came it +was only printed to the church—there wasn't any reception card among +it.</p> + +<p>Now I've supplied Eleanor's folks with butter and eggs and spring +chickens for thirty years, and I'd just have gone anyway, for I knew it +was a mistake, but John held out that 'twasn't—that they didn't mean to +have us to the house part; so to settle it I went right over and told +'em. I told Eleanor she mustn't feel put out about it—we was all +mortal—and if it hadn't been for satisfyin' John I'd never have let her +know how careless she'd been—of course I'd made allowance, a weddin' +<i>is</i> upsettin' to the intellect—and so 'twas all right.</p> + +<p>I had a real good view of the ceremony; but 'twasn't <i>their</i> fault that +I had; it just happened that way.</p> + +<p>When John and me got there I asked the young man at the door—he was a +yusher and a stranger to me—to give us a front seat, but he said that +all the front places was reserved for the relations of the bride and +groom, and then I noticed that they'd tied off the middle aisle about +seven pews back with white satin ribbons and a big bunch of pink roses. +It seemed real impolite to invite folks to a weddin' and then take the +best seats themselves.</p> + +<p>Well, just then I happened to feel my shoelacin' gettin' loose and I +stepped to one side to fix it; and when I got up from stoopin' and my +gloves on and buttoned—I had to take 'em off to tie my shoe—and +straightened John's cravat for him, why, there was the families on both +sides just goin' in.</p> + +<p>Of course we had to follow right along behind 'em, and when we came up +to the ribbons—would you believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1137" id="Page_1137">[Pg 1137]</a></span> it?—the big bow just untied +itself—or seemed to—I heard afterward it was done by somebody pullin' +a invisible wire—and we all walked through and took seats. I made John +go into the pew ahead of me so's I could get out without disturbin' +anybody if I should have a headache or feel faint.</p> + +<p>When John found we was settin' with the family—he was right close up +against Eleanor's mother—he was for gettin' up and movin' back. But I +just whispered to him, "John Appleby, do sit still! I hear the bridal +party comin'!"</p> + +<p>Of course I didn't just <i>hear 'em</i>, but I was sure they'd be along in a +minute, and I knew it wouldn't do to move our seats anyway, as if we +weren't satisfied with 'em.</p> + +<p>The church was decorated beautiful. Eleanor's folks must have cleaned +out their green-house to put into it, besides <i>tons</i> of greens from the +city.</p> + +<p>Pretty near the whole of Wrenville was there, and I must say the church +was a credit to the Wrenville dressmakers.</p> + +<p>I could pick out all their different fits without any trouble.</p> + +<p>There was Arabella Satterlee's—she shapes her backs like the top of a +coffin, or sometimes they remind me more of a kite; and Sallie Ann +Hodd's—she makes 'em square; and old Mrs. Tucker's—you can always tell +hers by the way the armholes draw; she makes the minister's wife's. But +they'd every one of 'em done their level best and I was proud of 'em.</p> + +<p>Well, when the organ—it had been playin' low and soft all the +time—changed off into the weddin' march and the bridesmaids, eight of +'em, marched up the aisle behind the eight yushers, I tell you, Miss +Halliday, it was a <i>sight</i>!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1138" id="Page_1138">[Pg 1138]</a></span></p> + +<p>They was all in pink gauzy stuff—I happened to feel one of 'em as she +went by but I couldn't tell what 'twas made of; it seemed dreadful +<i>flimsy</i>—and big flat hats all made of roses on their heads, and +carryin' bunches pf long-stemmed roses so big that they had to hold 'em +in their arms like young babes.</p> + +<p>Eleanor came behind 'em all, walkin' with her father. He always was a +small-built man, and with her long trail and her veil spreadin' out so, +why, I declare, you couldn't hardly see him.</p> + +<p>I whispered to John that they looked more as if Eleanor was goin' to +give her pa away than him her.</p> + +<p>Eleanor's dress was elegant, only awful <i>plain</i>. It was made in New York +at Greenleaf's. I know, because when I was upstairs lookin' for my +sunshade—I told you about that, didn't I?—I happened to get into +Eleanor's room by mistake, and there was the box it came in right on the +bed before my eyes.</p> + +<p>Well, when they was all past, I kept lookin' round me for the groom and +wonderin' how I had come to miss him, when all at once John nudged me, +and there he was right in front of me and the minister beginnin' to +marry 'em, and where he had sprung from I can't tell you this livin' +minute!</p> + +<p>Came in from the vestry, did he? Well, now, I never would have thought +of that!</p> + +<p>Well, when they was most married the most ridiculous thing happened.</p> + +<p>You see, Eleanor's father in steppin' back after givin' her away had put +his foot right down on her trail and never noticed, and when it came +time for the prayer Eleanor pulled and pulled—they was to kneel down on +two big white satin cushions in front of 'em—but her pa never +budged—just stood there with his eyes shut and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1139" id="Page_1139">[Pg 1139]</a></span> his head bowed as +devout as anything—and before Eleanor could stop him, her husband—he +was most her husband, anyway—had kneeled right down on to the cushion, +with his eyes shut, too, I suppose, and the minister had to pray over +'em that way. I could see Eleanor's shoulders shakin' under her veil, +and of course it <i>was</i> ridiculous if it hadn't been so solemn.</p> + +<p>And then they all marched down the aisle, with the bride and groom +leadin' the procession. Eleanor's veil was put back, and I noticed that +she was half-laughin' yet, and her cheeks were real pink, and her eyes +sort of bright and moist—she looked real handsome. Good gracious, Miss +Halliday, don't ever tell me that's six o'clock! And I haven't told a +thing about the presents, and who was there, and Eleanor's clothes, and +what they had to eat—why, they didn't even use their own china-ware! +They had a colored caterer from New York, and he brought everything—all +the dishes and table-cloths and spoons and forks, besides the +refreshments. I know, because just after he came I happened to carry +over my eleven best forks—John broke the dozenth tryin' to pry the cork +out of a bottle of raspberry vinegar the year we was married—I never +take a fork to pry with—and offered to loan 'em for the weddin', but +they didn't need 'em, so I just stayed a minute or two in the butler's +pantry and then went home—but I saw the caterer unpackin'.</p> + +<p>There! I knew I'd stay too long! There's John comin' in the gate after +me. I must go this blessed minute.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1140" id="Page_1140">[Pg 1140]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE THOMPSON STREET POKER CLUB</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Some Curious Points in the Noble Game Unfolded</span></h3> + +<h3>BY HENRY GUY CARLETON</h3> + + +<p>When Mr. Tooter Williams entered the gilded halls of the Thompson Street +Poker Club Saturday evening it was evident that fortune had smeared him +with prosperity. He wore a straw hat with a blue ribbon, an expression +of serene content, and a glass amethyst on his third finger whose +effulgence irradiated the whole room and made the envious eyes of Mr. +Cyanide Whiffles stand out like a crab's. Besides these extraordinary +furbishments, Mr. Williams had his mustache waxed to fine points and his +back hair was precious with the luster and richness which accompany the +use of the attar of Third Avenue roses combined with the bear's grease +dispensed by basement barbers on that fashionable thoroughfare.</p> + +<p>In sharp contrast to this scintillating entrance was the coming of the +Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith, who had been disheveled by the heat, +discolored by a dusty evangelical trip to Coney Island, and oppressed by +an attack of malaria which made his eyes bloodshot and enriched his +respiration with occasional hiccoughs and that steady aroma which is +said to dwell in Weehawken breweries.</p> + +<p>The game began at eight o'clock, and by nine and a series of two-pair +hands and bull luck Mr. Gus Johnson was seven dollars and a nickel ahead +of the game, and the Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith, who was banking,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1141" id="Page_1141">[Pg 1141]</a></span> was +nine stacks of chips and a dollar bill on the wrong side of the ledger. +Mr. Cyanide Whiffles was cheerful as a cricket over four winnings +amounting to sixty-nine cents; Professor Brick was calm, and Mr. Tooter +Williams was gorgeous and hopeful, and laying low for the first jackpot, +which now came. It was Mr. Whiffles's deal, and feeling that the eyes of +the world were upon him, he passed around the cards with a precision and +rapidity which were more to his credit than the I.O.U. from Mr. Williams +which was left over from the previous meeting.</p> + +<p>Professor Brick had nine high and declared his inability to make an +opening.</p> + +<p>Mr. Williams noticed a dangerous light come into the Reverend Mr. +Smith's eye and hesitated a moment, but having two black jacks and a +pair of trays, opened with the limit.</p> + +<p>"I liffs yo' jess tree dollahs, Toot," said the Reverend Mr. Smith, +getting out the wallet and shaking out a wad.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gus Johnson, who had a four flush and very little prudence, came in. +Mr. Whiffles sighed and fled.</p> + +<p>Mr. Williams polished the amethyst, thoroughly examining a scratch on +one of its facets, adjusted his collar, skinned his cards, stealthily +glanced again at the expression of the Reverend Mr. Smith's eye, and +said he would "Jess—jess call."</p> + +<p>Mr. Whiffles supplied the wants of the gentleman from the pack with the +mechanical air of a man who had lost all hope in a hereafter. Mr. +Williams wanted one card, the Reverend Mr. Smith said he'd take about +three, and Mr. Gus Johnson expressed a desire for a club, if it was not +too much trouble.</p> + +<p>Mr. Williams caught another tray, and, being secretly pleased, led out +by betting a chip. The Reverend Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1142" id="Page_1142">[Pg 1142]</a></span> Smith uproariously slammed down a +stack of blue chips and raised him seven dollars.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gus Johnson had captured the nine of hearts and so retired.</p> + +<p>Mr. Williams had four chips and a dollar left.</p> + +<p>"I sees dat seven," he said impressively, "an' I humps it ten mo'."</p> + +<p>"Whar's de c'lateral?" queried the Reverend Mr. Smith calmly, but with +aggressiveness in his eye.</p> + +<p>Mr. Williams sniffed contemptuously, drew off the ring, and deposited it +in the pot with such an air as to impress Mr. Whiffles with the idea +that the jewel must have been worth at least four million dollars. Then +Mr. Williams leaned back in his chair and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Whad yer goin' ter do?" asked the Reverend Mr. Smith, deliberately +ignoring Mr. Williams's action.</p> + +<p>Mr. Williams pointed to the ring and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Liff yo' ten dollahs."</p> + +<p>"On whad?"</p> + +<p>"Dat ring."</p> + +<p>"<i>Dat</i> ring?"</p> + +<p>"Yezzah." Mr. Williams was still cool.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" The Reverend Mr. Smith picked the ring up, examined it +scientifically with one eye closed, dropped it several times as if to +test its soundness, and then walked across and rasped it several times +heavily on the window pane.</p> + +<p>"Whad yo' doin' dat for?" excitedly asked Mr. Williams.</p> + +<p>A double rasp with the ring was the Reverend Mr. Smith's only reply.</p> + +<p>"Gimme dat jule back!" demanded Mr. Williams.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Mr. Smith was now vigorously rubbing the setting of the +stone on the floor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1143" id="Page_1143">[Pg 1143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Leggo dat sparkler," said Mr. Williams again.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Mr. Smith carefully polished off the scratches by rubbing +the ring a while on the sole of his foot. Then he resumed his seat and +put the precious thing back into the pot. Then he looked calmly at Mr. +Williams, and leaned back in his chair as if waiting for something.</p> + +<p>"Is yo' satisfied?" said Mr. Williams, in the tone used by men who have +sustained a deep injury.</p> + +<p>"Dis is pokah," said the Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith.</p> + +<p>"I rised yo' ten dollahs," said Mr. Williams, pointing to the ring.</p> + +<p>"Did yer ever saw three balls hangin' over my do'?" asked the Reverend +Mr. Smith. "Doesn't yo' know my name hain't Oppenheimer?"</p> + +<p>"Whad yo' mean?" asked Mr. Williams excitedly.</p> + +<p>"Pokah am pokah, and dar's no 'casion fer triflin' wif blue glass 'n +junk in dis yar club," said the Reverend Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>"I liffs yo' ten dollahs," said Mr. Williams, ignoring the insult.</p> + +<p>"Pud up de c'lateral," said the Reverend Mr. Smith. "Fo' chips is fohty, +'n a dollah's a dollah fohty, 'n dat's a dollah fohty-fo' cents."</p> + +<p>"Whar's de fo' cents?" smiled Mr. Williams, desperately.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Mr. Smith pointed to the ring. Mr. Williams rose +indignantly, shucked off his coat, hat, vest, suspenders and scarfpin, +heaped them on the table, and then sat down and glared at the Reverend +Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith rolled up the coat, put on the hat, threw his own out of the +window, gave the ring to Mr. Whiffles,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1144" id="Page_1144">[Pg 1144]</a></span> jammed the suspenders into his +pocket, and took in the vest, chips and money.</p> + +<p>"Dis yar's buglry!" yelled Mr. Williams.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Mr. Smith spread out four eights and rose impressively.</p> + +<p>"Toot," he said, "doan trifle wif Prov'dence. Because a man wars +ten-cent grease 'n' gits his july on de Bowery, hit's no sign dat he kin +buck agin cash in a jacker 'n' git a boodle from fo' eights. Yo's now in +yo' shirt sleeves 'n' low sperrets, bud de speeyunce am wallyble. I'se +willin' ter stan' a beer an' sassenger, 'n' shake 'n' call it squar'. De +club'll now 'journ."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1145" id="Page_1145">[Pg 1145]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE BUMBLEBEAVER<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY KENYON COX</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A cheerful and industrious beast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He's always humming as he goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make mud-houses with his tail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or gather honey with his nose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Although he flits from flower to flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He's not at all a gay deceiver.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We might take lessons by the hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From busy, buzzy Bumblebeaver.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1146" id="Page_1146">[Pg 1146]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>AFTER THE FUNERAL</h2> + +<h3>BY JAMES M. BAILEY</h3> + + +<p>It was just after the funeral. The bereaved and subdued widow, enveloped +in millinery gloom, was seated in the sitting-room with a few +sympathizing friends. There was that constrained look so peculiar to the +occasion observable on every countenance. The widow sighed.</p> + +<p>"How do you feel, my dear?" said her sister.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I don't know," said the poor woman, with difficulty restraining her +tears. "But I hope everything passed off well."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it did," said all the ladies.</p> + +<p>"It was as large and respectable a funeral as I have seen this winter," +said the sister, looking around upon the others.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was," said the lady from next door. "I was saying to Mrs. +Slocum, only ten minutes ago, that the attendance couldn't have been +better—the bad going considered."</p> + +<p>"Did you see the Taylors?" asked the widow faintly, looking at her +sister. "They go so rarely to funerals that I was surprised to see them +here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! the Taylors were all here," said the sympathizing sister. "As +you say, they go but a little: they are <i>so</i> exclusive!"</p> + +<p>"I thought I saw the Curtises also," suggested the bereaved woman +droopingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" chimed in several. "They came in their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1147" id="Page_1147">[Pg 1147]</a></span> own carriage, too," +said the sister, animatedly. "And then there were the Randalls and the +Van Rensselaers. Mrs. Van Rensselaer had her cousin from the city with +her; and Mrs. Randall wore a very black heavy silk, which I am sure was +quite new. Did you see Colonel Haywood and his daughters, love?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I saw them; but I wasn't sure. They were here, then, were +they?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed!" said they all again; and the lady who lived across the +way observed:</p> + +<p>"The Colonel was very sociable, and inquired most kindly about you, and +the sickness of your husband."</p> + +<p>The widow smiled faintly. She was gratified by the interest shown by the +Colonel.</p> + +<p>The friends now rose to go, each bidding her good-by, and expressing the +hope that she would be calm. Her sister bowed them out. When she +returned, she said:</p> + +<p>"You can see, my love, what the neighbors think of it. I wouldn't have +had anything unfortunate to happen for a good deal. But nothing did. The +arrangements couldn't have been better."</p> + +<p>"I think some of the people in the neighborhood must have been surprised +to see so many of the uptown people here," suggested the afflicted +woman, trying to look hopeful.</p> + +<p>"You may be quite sure of that," asserted the sister. "I could see that +plain enough by their looks."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am glad there is no occasion for talk," said the widow, +smoothing the skirt of her dress.</p> + +<p>And after that the boys took the chairs home, and the house was put in +order.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1148" id="Page_1148">[Pg 1148]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CASEY AT THE BAT</h2> + +<h3>BY ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It looked extremely rocky for the Mudville nine that day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The score stood four to six with just an inning left to play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, when Cooney died at first, and Burrows did the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pallor wreathed the features of the patrons of the game.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A straggling few got up to go, leaving there the rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that hope that springs eternal within the human breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they thought if only Casey could get one whack, at that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'd put up even money, with Casey at the bat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Flynn preceded Casey, and so likewise did Blake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the former was a pudding, and the latter was a fake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So on that stricken multitude a death-like silence sat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Flynn let drive a single to the wonderment of all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the much-despisèd Blaikie tore the cover off the ball;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what had occurred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was Blaikie safe on second and Flynn a-hugging third!</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1149" id="Page_1149">[Pg 1149]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It bounded from the mountain-top, and rattled in the dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It struck upon the hillside, and rebounded on the flat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was pride in Casey's bearing, and a smile on Casey's face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Defiance glanced in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1150" id="Page_1150">[Pg 1150]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted some one in the stand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Casey still ignored it; and the umpire said, "Strike two."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered, "Fraud!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the scornful look from Casey, and the audience was awed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched with hate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1151" id="Page_1151">[Pg 1151]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE MARTYRDOM OF MR. STEVENS<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY HERBERT QUICK</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p> +<i>Pietro:</i> Th' offense, it seemeth me,<br /> +Is one that by mercy's extremest stretch<br /> +Might be o'erpassed.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Cosimo:</i> Never, Pietro, never!<br /> +The Brotherhood's honor untouchable<br /> +Is touch'd thereby. We build our labyrinth<br /> +Of sacred words and potent spells, and all<br /> +The deep-involved horrors of our craft—<br /> +Its entrance hedg'd about with dreadful oaths,<br /> +And every step in thridding it made dank<br /> +By dripping terror and out-seeping awe,<br /> +Shall it be said that e'en Ludovico<br /> +May break our faith and live? Never, say I!<br /> +<br /> +—<i>Vision of Cosimo.</i><br /> +</p></div> + + +<p>The Bellevale lodge of the Ancient Order of Christian Martyrs held its +meetings in the upper story of a tall building. Mr. Alvord called for +Amidon at eight, and took him up, all his boldness in the world of +business replaced by wariness in the atmosphere of mystery. As he and +his companion went into an anteroom and were given broad collars from +which were suspended metal badges called "jewels," he felt a good deal +like a spy. They walked into the lodge-room where twenty-five or thirty +men with similar "jewels" sat smoking and chatting.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1152" id="Page_1152">[Pg 1152]</a></span> All seemed to know +him, but (much to his relief) before he could be included in the +conversation, the gavel fell; certain ones with more elaborate "jewels" +and more ornate collars than the rest took higher-backed and more highly +upholstered chairs at the four sides of the room, another stood at the +door; and still another, in complete uniform, with sword and belt, began +hustling the members to seats.</p> + +<p>"The Deacon Militant," said the wielder of the gavel, "will report if +all present are known and tested members of our Dread and Mystic +Conclave."</p> + +<p>"All, Most Sovereign Pontiff," responded the Deacon Militant, who proved +to be the man in the uniform, "save certain strangers who appear within +the confines of our sacred basilica."</p> + +<p>"Let them be tested," commanded the Sovereign Pontiff, "and, if +brethren, welcomed; if spies, executed!"</p> + +<p>Amidon started, and looked about for aid or avenue of escape. Seeing +none, he warily watched the Deacon Militant. That officer, walking in +the military fashion which, as patristic literature teaches, was adopted +by the early Christians, and turning square corners, as was the habit of +St. Paul and the Apostles, received whispered passwords from the two or +three strangers, and, with a military salute, announced that all present +had been put to the test and welcomed. Then, for the first time +remembering that he was not among the strangers, so far as known to the +lodge, Amidon breathed freely, and rather regretted the absence of +executions.</p> + +<p>"Bring forth the Mystic Symbols of the Order!" was the next command. The +Mystic Symbols were placed on a stand in the middle of the room, and +turned out to be a gilt fish about the size of a four-pound bass, a jar +of human bones, and a rolled-up scroll said to contain the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1153" id="Page_1153">[Pg 1153]</a></span> Gospels. The +fish, as explained by the Deacon Militant, typified a great many things +connected with early Christianity, and served always as a reminder of +the password of the order. The relics in the jar were the bones of +martyrs. The scroll was the Book of the Law. Amidon was becoming +impressed: the solemn and ornate ritual and the dreadful symbols sent +shivers down his inexperienced and unfraternal spine. Breaking in with +uninitiated eyes, as he had done, now seemed more and more a crime.</p> + +<p>There was an "Opening Ode," which was so badly sung as to mitigate the +awe; and an "order of business" solemnly gone through. Under the head +"Good of the Order" the visiting brethren spoke as if it were a +class-meeting and they giving "testimony," one of them very volubly +reminding the assembly of the great principles of the order, and the +mighty work it had already accomplished in ameliorating the condition of +a lost and wandering world. Amidon felt that he must have been very +blind in failing to note this work until it was thus forced on his +notice; but he made a mental apology.</p> + +<p>"By the way, Brassfield," said Mr. Slater during a recess preceding the +initiation of candidates, "you want to give Stevens the best you've got +in the Catacombs scene. Will you make it just straight ritual, or throw +in some of those specialities of yours?"</p> + +<p>"Stevens! Catacombs!" gasped Amidon, "specialties! I—"</p> + +<p>"I wish you could have been here when I was put through," went on Mr. +Slater. "I don't see how any one but a professional actor, or a person +with your dramatic gifts, can do that part at all—it's so sort of +ripping and—and intense, you know. I look forward to your rendition of +it with a good deal of pleasurable anticipation."</p> + +<p>"You don't expect me to do it, do you?" asked Amidon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1154" id="Page_1154">[Pg 1154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, who else?" was the counter-question. "We can't be expected to play +on the bench the best man in Pennsylvania in that part, can we?"</p> + +<p>"Come, Brassfield," said the Sovereign Pontiff, "get on your regalia for +the Catacombs. We are about to begin."</p> + +<p>"Oh, say, now!" said Amidon, trying to be off-hand about it, "you must +get somebody else."</p> + +<p>"What's that! Some one else? Very likely we shall! Very likely!" thus +the Sovereign Pontiff with fine scorn. "Come, the regalia, and no +nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"I—I may be called out at any moment," urged Amidon, amidst an outcry +that seemed to indicate a breach with the Martyrs then and there. "There +are reasons why—"</p> + +<p>Edgington took him aside. "Is there any truth in this story," said he, +"that you have had some trouble with Stevens, and discharged him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that Stevens!" gasped Amidon, as if the whole discussion had hinged +on picking out the right one among an army of Stevenses. "Yes, it's +true, and I can't help confer this—"</p> + +<p>Edgington whispered to the Sovereign Pontiff; and the announcement was +made that in the Catacombs scene Brother Brassfield would be excused and +Brother Bulliwinkle substituted.</p> + +<p>"I know I never, in any plane of consciousness, saw any of this, or knew +any of these things," thought Florian. "It is incredible!"</p> + +<p>Conviction, however, was forced on him by the fact that he was now made +to don a black domino and mask, and to march, carrying a tin-headed +spear, with a file of similar figures to examine the candidate, who +turned out to be the discharged Stevens, sitting in an anteroom,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1155" id="Page_1155">[Pg 1155]</a></span> +foolish and apprehensive, and looking withal much as he had done in +the counting-room. He was now asked by the leader of the file, in a +sepulchral tone, several formal questions, among others whether he +believed in a Supreme Being. Stevens gulped, and said "Yes." He was then +asked if he was prepared to endure any ordeal to which he might be +subjected, and warned unless he possessed nerves of steel, he had better +turn back—for which measure there was yet time. Stevens, in a faint +voice, indicated that he was ready for the worst, and desired to go on. +Then all (except Amidon) in awesome accents intoned, "Be brave and +obedient, and all may yet be well!" and they passed back into the +lodge-room. Amidon was now thoroughly impressed, and wondered whether +Stevens would be able to endure the terrible trials hinted at.</p> + +<p>Clad in a white robe, "typifying innocence," and marching to minor music +played upon a piano, Stevens was escorted several times around the +darkened room, stopping from time to time at the station of some +officer, to receive highly improving lectures. Every time he was asked +if he were willing to do anything, or believed anything, he said "Yes." +Finally, with the Scroll of the Law in one hand, and with the other +resting on the Bones of Martyrs, surrounded by the brethren, whose drawn +swords and leveled spears threatened death, he repeated an obligation +which bound him not to do a great many things, and to keep the secrets +of the order. To Amidon it seemed really awful—albeit somewhat florid +in style; and when Alvord nudged him at one passage in the obligation, +he resented it as an irreverence. Then he noted that it was a pledge to +maintain the sanctity of the family circle of brother Martyrs, and +Alvord's reference of the night before to the obligation as affecting +his association<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1156" id="Page_1156">[Pg 1156]</a></span> with the "strawberry blonde" took on new and fearful +meaning.</p> + +<p>Stevens seemed to be vibrating between fright and a tendency to laugh, +as the voice of some well-known fellow citizen rumbled out from behind a +deadly weapon. He was marched out, to the same minor music, and the +first act was ended.</p> + +<p>The really esoteric part of it, Amidon felt, was to come, as he could +see no reason for making a secret of these very solemn and edifying +matters. Stevens felt very much the same way about it, and was full of +expectancy when informed that the next degree would test his obedience. +He highly resolved to obey to the letter.</p> + +<p>The next act disclosed Stevens hoodwinked, and the room light. He was +informed that he was in the Catacombs, familiar to the early Christians, +and must make his way alone and in darkness, following the Clue of Faith +which was placed in his hands. This Clue was a white cord similar to the +sort used by masons (in the building-trades). He groped his way along by +it to the station of the next officer, who warned him of the deadly +consequences of disobedience. Thence he made his way onward, holding to +the Clue of Faith—until he touched a trigger of some sort, which let +down upon him an avalanche of tinware and such light and noisy articles, +which frightened him so that he started to run, and was dexteriously +tripped by the Deacon Militant and a spearman, and caught in a net held +by two others. A titter ran about the room.</p> + +<p>"Obey," thundered the Vice-Pontiff, "and all will be well!"</p> + +<p>Stevens resumed the Clue. At the station of the next officer to whom it +brought him, the nature of faith was explained to him, and he was given +the password, "Ich<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1157" id="Page_1157">[Pg 1157]</a></span>thus," whispered so that all in that part of the room +could hear the interdicted syllables. But he was adjured never, never to +utter it, unless to the Guardian of the Portal on entering the lodge, to +the Deacon Militant on the opening thereof, or to a member, when he, +Stevens, should become Sovereign Pontiff. Then he was faced toward the +Vice-Pontiff, and told to answer loudly and distinctly the questions +asked him.</p> + +<p>"What is the lesson inculcated in this Degree?" asked the Vice-Pontiff +from the other end of the room.</p> + +<p>"Obedience!" shouted Stevens in reply.</p> + +<p>"What is the password of this Degree?"</p> + +<p>"Ichthus!" responded Stevens.</p> + +<p>A roll of stage-thunder sounded deafeningly over his head. The piano was +swept by a storm of bass passion; and deep cries of "Treason! Treason!" +echoed from every side. Poor Stevens tottered, and fell into a chair +placed by the Deacon Militant. He saw the enormity of the deed of shame +he had committed. He had told the password!</p> + +<p>"You have all heard this treason," said the Sovereign Pontiff, in the +deepest of chest-tones—"a treason unknown in all the centuries of the +past! What is the will of the conclave?"</p> + +<p>"I would imprecate on the traitor's head," said a voice from one of the +high-backed chairs, "the ancient doom of the Law!"</p> + +<p>"Doom, doom!" said all in unison, holding the "oo" in a most +blood-curdling way. "Pronounce doom!"</p> + +<p>"One fate, and one alone," pronounced the Sovereign Pontiff, "can be +yours. Brethren, let him forthwith be encased in the Chest of the +Clanking Chains, and hurled from the Tarpeian Rock, to be dashed in +fragments at its stony base!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1158" id="Page_1158">[Pg 1158]</a></span></p> + +<p>Amidon's horror was modified by the evidences of repressed glee with +which this sentence was received. Yet he felt a good deal of concern as +they brought out a great chest, threw the struggling Stevens into it, +slammed down the ponderous lid and locked it. Stevens kicked at the lid, +but said nothing. The members leaped with joy. A great chain was brought +and wrapped clankingly about the chest.</p> + +<p>"Let me out," now yelled the Christian Martyr. "Let me out, damn you!"</p> + +<p>"Doom, do-o-o-oom!" roared the voices; and said the Sovereign Pontiff in +impressive tones, "Proceed with the execution!"</p> + +<p>Now the chest was slung up to a hook in the ceiling, and gradually drawn +back by a pulley until it was far above the heads of the men, the chains +meanwhile clanking continually against the receptacle, from which came +forth a stream of smothered profanity.</p> + +<p>"Hurl him down to the traitor's death!" shouted the Sovereign Pontiff. +The chest was loosed, and swung like a pendulum lengthwise of the room, +down almost to the floor and up nearly to the ceiling. The profanity now +turned into a yell of terror. The Martyrs slapped one another's backs +and grew blue in the face with laughter. At a signal, a light box was +placed where the chest would crush it (which it did with a sound like a +small railway collision); the chest was stopped and the lid raised.</p> + +<p>"Let the body receive Christian burial," said the Sovereign Pontiff. +"Our vengeance ceases with death."</p> + +<p>This truly Christian sentiment was received with universal approval. +Death seemed to all a good place at which to stop.</p> + +<p>"Brethren," said the Deacon Militant, as he struggled with the resurgent +Stevens, "there seems some life here! Methinks the heart beats, and—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1159" id="Page_1159">[Pg 1159]</a></span></p> + +<p>The remainder of the passage from the ritual was lost to Amidon by +reason of the fact that Stevens had placed one foot against the Deacon's +stomach and hurled that august officer violently to the floor.</p> + +<p>"Let every test of life be applied," said the Sovereign Pontiff. +"Perchance some higher will than ours decrees his preservation. Take the +body hence for a time; if possible, restore him to life, and we will +consider his fate."</p> + +<p>The recess which followed was clearly necessary to afford an opportunity +for the calming of the risibilities of the Martyrs. The stage, too, had +to be reset. Amidon's ethnological studies had not equaled his reading +in <i>belles-lettres</i>, and he was unable to see the deep significance of +these rites from an historical standpoint, and that here was a survival +of those orgies to which our painted and skin-clad ancestors devoted +themselves in spasms of religious frenzy, gazed at by the cave-bear and +the mammoth. The uninstructed Amidon regarded them as inconceivable +horse-play. While thus he mused, Stevens, who was still hoodwinked and +being greatly belectured on the virtue of Faith and the duty of +Obedience, reëntered on his ordeal.</p> + +<p>He was now informed by the officer at the other end of the room that +every man must ascend into the Mountains of Temptation and be tested, +before he could be pronounced fit for companionship with Martyrs. +Therefore, a weary climb heavenward was before him, and a great trial of +his fidelity. On his patience, daring and fortitude depended all his +future in the Order. He was marched to a ladder and bidden to ascend.</p> + +<p>"I," said the Deacon Militant, "upon this companion stair will accompany +you."</p> + +<p>But there was no other ladder and the Deacon Militant had to stand upon +a chair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1160" id="Page_1160">[Pg 1160]</a></span></p> + +<p>Up the ladder labored Stevens, but, though he climbed manfully, he +remained less than a foot above the floor. The ladder went down like a +treadmill, as Stevens climbed—it was an endless ladder rolled down on +Stevens' side and up on the other. The Deacon Militant, from his perch +on the chair, encouraged Stevens to climb faster so as not to be +outstripped. With labored breath and straining muscles he climbed, the +Martyrs rolling on the floor in merriment all the more violent because +silent. Amidon himself laughed to see this strenuous climb, so +strikingly like human endeavor, which puts the climber out of breath, +and raises him not a whit—except in temperature. At the end of perhaps +five minutes, when Stevens might well have believed himself a hundred +feet above the roof, he had achieved a dizzy height of perhaps six feet, +on the summit of a stage-property mountain, where he stood beside the +Deacon Militant, his view of the surrounding plain cut off by +papier-mâché clouds, and facing a foul fiend, to whom the Deacon +Militant confided that here was a candidate to be tested and qualified. +Whereupon the foul fiend remarked "Ha, ha!" and bade them bind him to +the Plutonian Thunderbolt and hurl him down to the nether world. The +thunderbolt was a sort of toboggan on rollers, for which there was a +slide running down presumably to the nether world, above mentioned.</p> + +<p>The hoodwink was removed, and Stevens looked about him, treading warily, +like one on the top of a tower; the great height of the mountain made +him giddy. Obediently he lay face downward on the thunderbolt, and +yielded up his wrists and ankles to fastenings provided for them.</p> + +<p>"They're not going to lower him with those cords, are they?"</p> + +<p>It was a stage-whisper from the darkness which spake thus.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1161" id="Page_1161">[Pg 1161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I guess it's safe enough!" said another, in the same sort of +agitated whisper.</p> + +<p>"Safe!" was the reply. "I tell you, it's sure to break! Some one stop +'em—"</p> + +<p>To the heart of the martyred Stevens these words struck panic. But as he +opened his mouth to protest, the catastrophe occurred. There was a snap, +and the toboggan shot downward. Bound as he was, the victim could see +below him a brick wall right across the path of his descent. He was +helpless to move; it was useless to cry out. For all that, as he felt in +imagination the crushing shock of his head driven like a battering-ram +against this wall, he uttered a roar such as from Achilles might have +roused armed nations to battle. And even as he did so, his head touched +the wall, there was a crash, and Stevens lay safe on a mattress after +his ten-foot slide, surrounded by fragments of red-and-white paper which +had lately been a wall. He was pale and agitated, and generally done +for; but tremendously relieved when he had assured himself of the +integrity of his cranium. This he did by repeatedly feeling of his head, +and looking at his fingers for sanguinary results. As Amidon looked at +him, he repented of what he had done to this thoroughly maltreated +fellow man. After the Catacombs scene, which was supposed to be +impressive, and some more of the "secret" work, everybody crowded about +Stevens, now invested with the collar and "jewel" of Martyrhood, and +laughed, and congratulated him as on some great achievement, while he +looked half-pleased and half-bored. Amidon, with the rest, greeted him, +and told him that after his vacation was over, he hoped to see him back +at the office.</p> + +<p>"That was a fine exemplification of the principles of the Order," said +Alvord as they went home.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1162" id="Page_1162">[Pg 1162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What was?" said Amidon.</p> + +<p>"Hiring old Stevens back," answered Alvord. "You've got to live your +principles, or they don't amount to much."</p> + +<p>"Suppose some fellow should get into a lodge," asked Amidon, "who had +never been initiated?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Alvord, "there isn't much chance of that. I shouldn't dare +to say. You can't tell what the fellows would do when such sacred things +were profaned, you know. You couldn't tell what they might do!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1163" id="Page_1163">[Pg 1163]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE WILD BOARDER<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY KENYON COX</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His figure's not noted for grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You may not much care for his face;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But a twenty-yard dash,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When he hears the word "hash,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He can take at a wonderful pace.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1164" id="Page_1164">[Pg 1164]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>DE GRADUAL COMMENCE</h2> + +<h3>BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oui, Oui, M'sieu, I'm mos' happee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ches' wid proud expan',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel de bes' I evere feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' over all dis lan'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dere's none set op so moch as me;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You'll know w'en I am say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My leddle daughter Madeline<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is gradual to-day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She is de ver' mos' smartes' gairl<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dat I am evere know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm fin' dis out, de teacher, he<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is tol' me dat is so;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is so smart dat she say t'ings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am no understan',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is know more dan any one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dat leeve on ol' Ste. Anne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">De Gradual Commence is hol'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down at de gr'ad beeg hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">W'ere plaintee peopl' can gat seat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For dem to see it all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">De School Board wid dere presi<i>dent</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dey sit opon front row,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dey look so stiff an' dignify,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For w'at I am not know.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1165" id="Page_1165">[Pg 1165]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">De classe dat mak' de "gradual"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dey're on de stage, you see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In semi-cirque dat face de peop',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some scare as dey can be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Den wan of dem dey all mak' spe'k,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Affer de nodder's t'roo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dis tak' dem 'bout t'ree hour an' half<br /></span> +<span class="i2">De hull t'ing for to do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ma Madeline she is all feex op,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mos' beautiful to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In nice w'ite drass, my wife he buy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Overe to Kankakee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' when she rise to mak' de spe'k<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How smart she look on face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dey all expec' somet'ing dey hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dere's hush fall on de place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She tell us how to mak' de leeve,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How raise beeg familee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She tell it all so smood an' plain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dat you can't help but see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' how she learn her all of dat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ees more dan I can say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she is know it, for she talk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In smartes' kind of way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">W'en all is t'roo de presi<i>dent</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2">De sheepskin he geeve 'way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dey're all nice print opon dem,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' dis is w'at dey say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"To dem dat is concern' wid dese<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pres<i>ents</i> you onderstan'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">De h'owner dese; is gradual<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At High School on Ste. Anne."</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1166" id="Page_1166">[Pg 1166]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' now dat she is gradual<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She ees know all about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">De world an' how to mak' it run<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From inside to de out;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For dis is one de primere t'ings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">W'at she is learn, you see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dat long beeg word I can pronounce,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It's call philosophee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An' you can' blame me if I am<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ver' proud an' puff op so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hav' a daughter like dis wan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dat's everyt'ing she know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wonder dat I gat beeg head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My hat's too small, dey say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ma leddle daughter Madeline<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is gradual to-day.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1167" id="Page_1167">[Pg 1167]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ABOU BEN BUTLER</h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN PAUL</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Abou, Ben Butler (may his tribe be less!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awoke one night from a deep bottledness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw, by the rich radiance of the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which shone and shimmered like a silver spoon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stranger writing on a golden slate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Exceeding store had Ben of spoons and plate),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the stranger in his tent he said:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Your little game?" The stranger turned his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, with a look made all of innocence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Replied: "I write the name of Presidents."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And is mine one?" "Not if this court doth know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Itself," replied the stranger. Ben said, "Oh!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And "Ah!" but spoke again: "Just name your price<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To write me up as one that may be Vice."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stranger up and vanished. The next night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He came again, and showed a wondrous sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of names that haply yet might fill the chair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, lo! the name of Butler was not there!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1168" id="Page_1168">[Pg 1168]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LATTER-DAY WARNINGS</h2> + +<h3>BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When legislators keep the law,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When banks dispense with bolts and locks,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When berries—whortle, rasp, and straw—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grow bigger <i>downwards</i> through the box,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When he that selleth house or land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shows leak in roof or flaw in right,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When haberdashers choose the stand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose window hath the broadest light,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When preachers tell us all they think,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And party leaders all they mean,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When what we pay for, that we drink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From real grape and coffee-bean,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When lawyers take what they would give,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And doctors give what they would take,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When city fathers eat to live,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save when they fast for conscience' sake,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When one that hath a horse on sale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall bring his merit to the proof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a lie for every nail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That holds the iron on the hoof,—</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1169" id="Page_1169">[Pg 1169]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When in the usual place for rips<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our gloves are stitched with special care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And guarded well the whalebone tips<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where first umbrellas need repair,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Cuba's weeds have quite forgot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The power of suction to resist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And claret-bottles harbor not<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such dimples as would hold your fist,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When publishers no longer steal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pay for what they stole before,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the first locomotive's wheel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rolls through the Hoosac tunnel's bore;—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Till</i> then let Cumming blaze away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Miller's saints blow up the globe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when you see that blessed day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Then</i> order your ascension robe!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1170" id="Page_1170">[Pg 1170]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IT PAYS TO BE HAPPY<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY TOM MASSON</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She is so gay, so very gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And not by fits and starts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ever, through each livelong day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She's sunshine to all hearts.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A tonic is her merry laugh!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So wondrous is her power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That listening grief would stop and chaff<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her from hour to hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Disease before that cheery smile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grows dim, begins to fade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Christian scientist, meanwhile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is this delightful maid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And who would not throw off dull care<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And be like unto her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When happiness brings, as her share,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One hundred dollars per ——?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1171" id="Page_1171">[Pg 1171]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>JAMES AND REGINALD</h2> + +<h3>BY EUGENE FIELD</h3> + + +<p>Once upon a Time there was a Bad boy whose Name was Reginald and there +was a Good boy whose Name was James. Reginald would go Fishing when his +Mamma told him Not to, and he Cut off the Cat's Tail with the Bread +Knife one Day, and then told Mamma the Baby had Driven it in with the +Rolling Pin, which was a Lie. James was always Obedient, and when his +Mamma told him not to Help an old Blind Man across the street or Go into +a Dark Room where the Boogies were, he always Did What She said. That is +why they Called him Good James. Well, by and by, along Came Christmas. +Mamma said, You have been so Bad, my son Reginald, you will not Get any +Presents from Santa Claus this Year; but you, my son James, will get +Oodles of Presents, because you have Been Good. Will you Believe it, +Children, that Bad boy Reginald said he didn't Care a Darn and he Kicked +three Feet of Veneering off the Piano just for Meanness. Poor James was +so sorry for Reginald that he cried for Half an Hour after he Went to +Bed that Night. Reginald lay wide Awake until he saw James was Asleep +and then he Said if these people think they can Fool me, they are +Mistaken. Just then Santa Claus came down the Chimney. He had Lots of +Pretty Toys in a Sack on his Back. Reginald shut his Eyes and Pretended +to be Asleep. Then Santa Claus Said, Reginald is Bad and I will not Put +any nice Things in his Stocking. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1172" id="Page_1172">[Pg 1172]</a></span> as for you, James, I will Fill +your Stocking Plum full of Toys, because You are Good. So Santa Claus +went to Work and Put, Oh! heaps and Heaps of Goodies in James' stocking, +but not a Sign of a Thing in Reginald's stocking. And then he Laughed to +himself and Said I guess Reginald will be Sorry to-morrow because he Was +so Bad. As he said this he Crawled up the chimney and rode off in his +Sleigh. Now you can Bet your Boots Reginald was no Spring Chicken. He +just Got right Straight out of Bed and changed all those Toys and Truck +from James' stocking into his own. Santa Claus will Have to Sit up all +Night, said He, when he Expects to get away with my Baggage. The next +morning James got out of Bed and when He had Said his Prayers he Limped +over to his Stocking, licking his chops and Carrying his Head as High as +a Bull going through a Brush Fence. But when he found there was Nothing +in his stocking and that Reginald's Stocking was as Full as Papa Is when +he comes home Late from the Office, he Sat down on the Floor and began +to Wonder why on Earth he had Been such a Good boy. Reginald spent a +Happy Christmas and James was very Miserable. After all, Children, it +Pays to be Bad, so Long as you Combine Intellect with Crime.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1173" id="Page_1173">[Pg 1173]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BANTY TIM</h2> + +<h3>REMARKS OF SERGEANT TILMON JOY TO THE WHITE +MAN'S COMMITTEE OF SPUNKY POINT, ILLINOIS</h3> + +<h3>BY JOHN HAY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I reckon I git your drift, gents,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You 'low the boy sha'n't stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is a white man's country;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You're Dimocrats, you say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whereas, and seein', and wherefore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The times bein' all out o' j'int,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nigger has got to mosey<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the limits o' Spunky P'int!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Le's reason the thing a minute:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'm an old-fashioned Dimocrat too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I laid my politics out o' the way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For to keep till the war was through.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I come back here, allowin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To vote as I used to do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though it gravels me like the devil to train<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along o' sich fools as you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now dog my cats ef I kin see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all the light of the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What you've got to do with the question<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ef Tim shill go or stay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And furder than that I give notice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ef one of you tetches the boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He kin check his trunks to a warmer clime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than he'll find in Illanoy.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1174" id="Page_1174">[Pg 1174]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You know that ungodly day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When our left struck Vicksburg Heights, how ripped<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And torn and tattered we lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the rest retreated I stayed behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fur reasons sufficient <i>to</i> me,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a rib caved in, and a leg on a strike,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I sprawled on that cursed glacee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lord! how the hot sun went for us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And br'iled and blistered and burned!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the Rebel bullets whizzed round us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When a cuss in his death-grip turned!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till along toward dusk I seen a thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I couldn't believe for a spell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nigger—that Tim—was a crawlin' to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through that fire-proof, gilt-edged hell!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Rebels seen him as quick as me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the bullets buzzed like bees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he jumped for me, and shouldered me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though a shot brought him once to his knees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he staggered up, and packed me off,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a dozen stumbles and falls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till safe in our lines he drapped us both,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His black hide riddled with balls.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, my gentle gazelles, thar's my answer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And here stays Banty Tim:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He trumped Death's ace for me that day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I'm not goin' back on him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You may rezoloot till the cows come home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But ef one of you tetches the boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'll wrastle his hash to-night in hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or my name's not Tilmon Joy!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1175" id="Page_1175">[Pg 1175]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>EVENING</h2> + +<h3><i>By A Tailor</i></h3> + +<h3>BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Day hath put on his jacket, and around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here will I lay me on the velvet grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is like padding to earth's meager ribs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hold communion with the things about me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah me! how lovely is the golden braid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That binds the skirt of night's descending robe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thin leaves, quivering on their silken threads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do make a music like to rustling satin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the light breezes smooth their downy nap.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Ha! what is this that rises to my touch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So like a cushion? Can it be a cabbage?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is, it is that deeply injured flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which boys do flout us with;—but yet I love thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou giant rose, wrapped in a green surtout.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubtless in Eden thou didst blush as bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As these, thy puny brethren; and thy breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweetened the fragrance of her spicy air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now thou seemest like a bankrupt beau,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stripped of his gaudy hues and essences,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And growing portly in his sober garments.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1176" id="Page_1176">[Pg 1176]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Is that a swan that rides upon the water?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O no, it is that other gentle bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is the patron of our noble calling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I well remember, in my early years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When these young hands first closed upon a goose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have a scar upon my thimble finger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which chronicles the hour of young ambition.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father was a tailor, and his father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my sire's grandsire, all of them were tailors;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They had an ancient goose,—it was an heirloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From some remoter tailor of our race.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It happened I did see it on a time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When none was near, and I did deal with it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it did burn me,—O, most fearfully!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">It is a joy to straighten out one's limbs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leap elastic from the level counter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving the petty grievances of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breaking thread, the din of clashing shears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the needles that do wound the spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For such a pensive hour of soothing silence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind Nature, shuffling in her loose undress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lays bare her shady bosom;—I can feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all around me;—I can hail the flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sprig earth's mantle,—and yon quiet bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rides the stream, is to me as a brother.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vulgar know not all the hidden pockets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Nature stows away her loveliness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this unnatural posture of the legs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cramps my extended calves, and I must go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I can coil them in their wonted fashion.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1177" id="Page_1177">[Pg 1177]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE OLD SETTLER</h2> + +<h3><i>His Reasons for Thinking there is Natural Gas in Deep Rock Gulley</i></h3> + +<h3>BY ED. MOTT</h3> + + +<p>"I see by the papers, Squire," said the Old Settler, "that they're +a-finding signs o' coal ile an' nat'ral gas like sixty here an' thar in +deestric's not so terrible fur from here, an' th't konsekently land they +usety beg folks to come an' take offen their hands at any price at all +is wuth a dollar now, jist for a peep over the stun wall at it. The +minute a feller finds signs o' ile or nat'ral gas on his plantation he +needn't lug home his supplies in a quart jug no more, but kin roll 'em +in by the bar'l, fer signs o' them kind is wuth more an inch th'n a +sartin-per-sure grass an' 'tater farm is wuth an acre."</p> + +<p>"Guess yer huggin' the truth pooty clus fer wunst, Major," replied the +Squire, "but th' hain't none o' them signs ez likely to strike anywhar +in our bailiwick ez lightnin' is to kill a crow roostin' on the North +Pole. Thuz one thing I've alluz wanted to see," continued the Squire, +"but natur' has ben agin me an' I hain't never seen it, an' that thing +is the h'istin' of a balloon. Th' can't be no balloons h'isted nowhar, +I'm told, 'nless thuz gas to h'ist it with. I s'pose if we'd ha' had gas +here, a good many fellers with balloons 'd ha' kim 'round this way an' +showed us a balloon raisin' ev'ry now an' then. Them must be lucky +deestric's that's got gas, an' I'd like to hev somebody strike it 'round +here some'rs, jist fer the sake o' hav<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1178" id="Page_1178">[Pg 1178]</a></span>in' the chance to see a balloon +h'istin' 'fore I turn my toes up. But that's 'bout ez liable to happen +ez it is fer to go out an' find a silver dollar rollin' up hill an' my +name gouged in it."</p> + +<p>"Don't ye be so consarned sure o' that, Squire," said the Old Settler +mysteriously, and with a knowing shake of his head. "I've been +a-thinkin' a leetle sence readin' 'bout them signs o' gas, b'gosh! I +hain't been only thinkin', but I've been a-recollectin', an' the chances +is th't me an' you'll see wonders yet afore we paddle over Jurdan. I'm +a-gointer tell ye fer w'y, but I hadn't orter, Squire, an' if it wa'n't +fer makin' ye 'shamed o' yerself, an' showin' th't truth squashed in the +mud is bound to git up agin if ye give her time, I wouldn't do it. Ye +mowt remember th't jist ten years ago this month I kim in from a leetle +b'ar hunt. I didn't bring in no b'ar, but I fotched back an up-an'-up +account o' how I had shot one, on' how th' were sumpin' fearful an' +queer an' amazin' in the p'formances o' that b'ar arter bein' shot. +Mebby ye 'member me a-tellin' ye that story, Squire, an' you a-tellin' +me right in my teeth th't ye know'd th't some o' yer friends had took to +lyin', but th't ye didn't think any of 'em had it so bad ez that. But I +hain't a-holdin' no gredge, an' now I'll tell ye sumpin' that'll s'prise +ye.</p> + +<p>"Ez I tol' ye at the time, Squire, I got the tip ten year ago this +month, th't unless somebody went up to Steve Groner's hill place an' +poured a pound or two o' lead inter a big b'ar th't had squatted on tha' +farm, th't Steve wouldn't hev no live-stock left to pervide pork an' +beef fer his winterin' over, even if he managed to keep hisself an' +fam'ly theirselfs from linin' the b'ar's innards. I shouldered my gun +an' went up to Steve's to hev some fun with bruin, an' to save Steve's +stock, an' resky him an' his folks from the rampagin' b'ar.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1179" id="Page_1179">[Pg 1179]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'He's a rip-snorter,' Steve says to me, w'en I got thar. 'He don't +think nuthin' o' luggin' off a cow,' he says, 'an' ye don't wanter hev +yer weather eye shet w'en you an' him comes together,' he says.</p> + +<p>"'B'ars,' I says to Steve, 'b'ars is nuts fer me, an' the bigger an' +sassier they be,' I says, 'the more I inj'y 'em,' I says, an' with that +I clim' inter the woods to show bruin th't th' wa'n't room enough here +below fer me an' him both. Tain't necessary fer me to tell o' the +half-dozen or more lively skrimmages me an' that b'ar had ez we follered +an' chased one another round an' round them woods—how he'd hide ahind +some big tree or stumps, an' ez I went by, climb on to me with all four +o' his feet an' yank an' bite an' claw an' dig meat an' clothes offen me +till I slung him off an' made him skin away to save his bacon; an' how +I'd lay the same way fer him, an' w'en he come sneakin' 'long arter me +agin, pitch arter him like a mad painter, an' swat an' pound an' choke +an' rassel him till his tongue hung out, till I were sorry for him, an' +let him git away inter the brush agin to recooperate fer the next round. +'Tain't wuth w'ile fer me to say anything 'bout them little skrimmages +'cept the last un, an' that un wa'n't a skrimmage but sumpin' that'd 'a' +skeert some folks dead in their tracks.</p> + +<p>"Arter havin' a half-dozen or so o' rassels with this big b'ar, jist fer +fun, I made up my mind, ez 'twere gettin' late, an' ez Steve Groner's +folks was mebby feelin' anxious to hear which was gointer run the farm, +them or the b'ar, th't the next heat with bruin would be for keeps. I +guess the ol' feller had made up his mind the same way, fer w'en I run +agin him the las' time, he were riz up on his hind legs right on the +edge o' Deep Rock Gulley, and were waitin' fer me with his jaws wide +open. I unslung my gun, an' takin' aim at one o' the b'ar's forepaws,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1180" id="Page_1180">[Pg 1180]</a></span> +thought I'd wing him an' make him come away from the edge o' the gulley +'fore I tackled him. The ball hit the paw, an' the b'ar throw'd 'em both +up. But he throw'd 'em up too fur, an' he fell over back'rd, an' went +head foremost inter the gulley. Deep Rock Gulley ain't an inch less'n +fifty foot from top to bottom, an' the walls is ez steep ez the side of +a house. I went up to the edge an' looked over. Ther' were the b'ar +layin' on his face at the bottom, whar them queer cracks is in the +ground, an' he were a-howlin' like a hurricane and kickin' like a mule. +Ther' he laid, and he wa'n't able to rise up. Th' wa'n't no way o' +gettin' down to him 'cept by tumblin' down ez he had, an' if ever +anybody were poppin' mad I were, ez I see my meat a-layin' at the bottom +o' that gulley, an' the crows a-getherin' to hev a picnic with it. The +more I kept my eyes on that b'ar the madder I got, an' I were jist about +to roll and tumble an' slide down the side o' that gulley ruther than go +back home an' say th't I'd let the crows steal a b'ar away from me, w'en +I see a funny change comin' over the b'ar. He didn't howl so much, and +his kicks wa'n't so vicious. Then his hind parts began to lift themse'fs +up offen the ground in a cur'ous sort o' way, and swung an' bobbed in +the air. They kep' raisin' higher an' higher, till the b'ar were +act'ally standin' on his head, an' swayin' to and fro ez if a wind were +blowin' him an' he couldn't help it. The sight was so oncommon out o' +the reg'lar way b'ars has o' actin' that it seemed skeery, an' I felt ez +if I'd ruther be home diggin' my 'taters. But I kep' on gazin' at the +b'ar a-circusin' at the bottom o' the gulley, an 't wa'n't long 'fore +the hull big carcase begun to raise right up offen the ground an' come +a-floatin' up outen the gulley, fer all the world ez if 't wa'n't more'n +a feather. The b'ar come up'ards tail foremost, an' I noticed th't he +looked consid'able<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1181" id="Page_1181">[Pg 1181]</a></span> puffed out like, makin' him seem lik' a bar'l +sailin' in the air. Ez the b'ar kim a-floatin' out o' the dep's I could +feel my eyes begin to bulge, an' my knees to shake like a jumpin' +jack's. But I couldn't move no more'n a stun wall kin, an' thar I stood +on the edge o' the gulley, starin' at the b'ar ez it sailed on up to'rd +me. The b'ar were making a desper't effort to git itself back to its +nat'ral p'sition on all fours, but th' wa'n't no use, an' up he sailed, +tail foremost, an' lookin' ez if he were gointer bust the next minute, +he were swelled out so. Ez the b'ar bobbed up and passed by me I could +ha' reached out an' grabbed him by the paw, an' I think he wanted me to, +the way he acted, but I couldn't ha' made a move to stop him, not if +he'd ha' ben my gran'mother. The b'ar sailed on above me, an' th' were a +look in his eyes th't I won't never fergit. It was a skeert look, an' a +look that seemed to say th't it were all my fault, an' th't I'd be sorry +fer it some time. The b'ar squirmed an' struggled agin comin' to setch +an' onheerdon end, but up'ard he went, tail foremost, to'ard the clouds.</p> + +<p>"I stood thar par'lyzed w'ile the b'ar went up'ard. The crows that had +been settlin' round in the trees, 'spectin' to hev a bully meal, went to +flyin' an' scootin' around the onfortnit b'ar, an' yelled till I were +durn nigh deef. It wa'n't until the b'ar had floated up nigh onto a +hundred yards in the air, an' begun to look like a flyin' cub, that my +senses kim back to me. Quick ez a flash I rammed a load inter my rifle, +wrappin' the ball with a big piece o' dry linen, not havin' time to tear +it to the right size. Then I took aim an' let her go. Fast ez the ball +went, I could see that the linen round it had been sot on fire by the +powder. The ball overtook the b'ar and bored a hole in his side. Then +the funniest thing of all happened. A streak o' fire a yard long shot +out o' the b'ar's side where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1182" id="Page_1182">[Pg 1182]</a></span> the bullet had gone in, an' ez long ez +that poor bewitched b'ar were in sight—fer o' course I thort at the +time th't the b'ar were bewitched—I could see that streak o' fire +sailin' along in the sky till it went out at last like a shootin' star. +I never knowed w'at become o' the b'ar, an' the hull thing were a +startlin' myst'ry to me, but I kim home, Squire, an' tol' ye the story, +jest ez I've tol' ye now, an' ye were so durn polite th't ye said I were +a liar. But sence, I've been a-thinkin' an' recollectin'. Squire, I +don't hold no gredge. The myst'ry's plain ez day, now. We don't want no +better signs o' gas th'n th't, do we, Squire?"</p> + +<p>"Than what?" said the Squire.</p> + +<p>"Than what!" exclaimed the Old Settler. "Than that b'ar, o' course! +That's w'at ailed him. It's plain enough th't thuz nat'ral gas on the +Groner place, an' th't it leaks outen the ground in Deep Rock Gulley. +Wen that b'ar tumbled to the bottom that day, he fell on his face. He +were hurt so th't he couldn't get up. O' course the gas didn't shut +itself off, but kep' on a-leakin' an' shot up inter the b'ar's mouth and +down his throat. The onfortnit b'ar couldn't help hisself, an' bimby he +were filled with gas like a balloon, till he had to float, an' away he +sailed, up an' up an' up. Wen I fired at the b'ar, ez he was floatin' +to'ard the clouds, the linen on the bullet carried fire with it, an' +w'en the bullet tapped the b'ar's side the burnin' linen sot it on fire, +showin' th't th' can't be no doubt 'bout it bein' gas th't the b'ar +swallered in Deep Rock Gulley. So ye see, Squire, I wa'n't no liar, an' +the chances is all in favor o' your seein' a balloon h'isted from gas +right in yer own bailiwick afore ye turn up yer toes."</p> + +<p>The Squire gazed at the Old Settler in silent amazement for a minute or +more. Then he threw up his hands and said:</p> + +<p>"Wal—I'll—be—durned!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1183" id="Page_1183">[Pg 1183]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VERRE DEFINITE</h2> + +<h3>BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It' verre long, long tam', ma frien',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'm leeve on Bourbonnais,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm keep de gen'rale merchandise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'm prom'nent man, dey say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm sell mos' every t'ing dere ees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From sulky plow to sock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I don' care w'at you ask me for,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You'll fin' it in my stock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Las' w'ek dere was de <i>petite fille</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of ma frien', Gosse, he com'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into ma shop to get stock<i>ing</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She want to buy her som';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was herself not verre ol',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Near twelve year, I suppose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She com' to me an' say, "M'sieu,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wan' to buy som' hose."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I always mak' de custom rule,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No matter who it ees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be polite an' eloquent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In transack of ma beez;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I say to her, "For who you wan'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dese stockings to be wear?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She say she need wan pair herself,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Also for small bruddére.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1184" id="Page_1184">[Pg 1184]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She say her bruddére's eight years ol'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' coming almos' nine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' I am twelve, mos' near t'irteen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dat size will do for mine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' modder she will tak' beeg pair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She weigh 'bout half a ton,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She wan' de size of forty year<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go<i>ing</i> on forty-one.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1185" id="Page_1185">[Pg 1185]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE TALKING HORSE</h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN T. McINTYRE</h3> + + +<p>Upon a fence across the way was posted a "twenty-four sheet block +stand," and along the top, in big red letters, it read:</p> + +<p> +"<i>H. Wellington Sheldon Presents</i>"<br /> +</p> + +<p>Then followed the names of a half dozen famous operatic stars.</p> + +<p>Bat Scranton sat regarding it silently for a long time; but after he had +placed himself behind his third big cigar he joined in the talk.</p> + +<p>"In fifteen years dubbing about this great and glorious," said he, "I +never run across a smoother piece of goods than old Cap. Sheldon. To see +him, now, in his plug hat, frock coat and white English whiskers, you'd +spot him as the main squeeze in a prosperous bank. He's doing the +Frohman stunt, too," and Bat nodded toward the poster, "and he handles +it with exceeding grace. When I see him after the curtain falls upon a +bunch of Verdi or Wagner stuff, come out and bow his thanks to a house +full of the town's swellest, and throw out a little spiel with an +aristocratic accent, I always think of the time when I first met him.</p> + +<p>"Were any of you ever in Langtry, Ohio? Well, never take a chance on it +if there is anywhere else to go. It's a tank town with a community of +seven hundred of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1186" id="Page_1186">[Pg 1186]</a></span> tightest wads that ever sunk a dollar into the toe +of a sock. There was a fair going on in the place, and I blew in there +one September day; my turn just then was taking orders for crayon +portraits of rural gentlemen with horny hands and plenty of chin fringe. +I figure it out that about sixty per cent. of the parlors in the middle +west are adorned with one or more of these works of art, but Langtry, +Ohio, would not listen to the proposition for a moment; as soon as they +discovered that I wasn't giving the stuff away they sort of lost +interest in me and mine; so I began to study the time-table and kick off +the preliminary dust of the burg, preparatory to seeking a new base of +operations.</p> + +<p>"As I made my way to the station I caught my first glimpse of Cap. +Sheldon. He had a satchel hanging from around his neck and was winsomely +wrapping ten dollar notes up with small cylinders of soap and offering +to sell them at one dollar a throw.</p> + +<p>"'How are they going,' says I.</p> + +<p>"'Not at all,' says he. 'There's nothing to it that I can see. The breed +and seed of Solomon himself must have camped down in this section; they +are the wisest lot I ever saw herd together. Instead of chewing straws +and leaning over fences after the customary and natural manner of +ruminates, they pike around with a calm, cold-blooded sagacity that is +truly awesome. It's me to pull out as soon as I can draw expenses.'</p> + +<p>"The next time Cap. dawned upon my vision was a year afterward, down in +Georgia. He was doing the ballyho oration in front of a side wall circus +in a mellifluous style that was just dragging the tar heels up to the +entrance.</p> + +<p>"'It's a little better than the Ohio gag,' says he, 'but I've seen +better, at that. I had a good paying faro outfit in Cincinnati since I +met you, but the police got sore be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1187" id="Page_1187">[Pg 1187]</a></span>cause I wouldn't cut the takings in +what they considered the right place, so they closed me up.'</p> + +<p>"During the next five years I met Cap. in every section of the country, +and handling various propositions. In San Francisco I caught him in the +act of selling toy balloons on a street corner; in Chicago he was +disposing of old line life insurance with considerable effect; at a +county fair, somewhere in Iowa, I ran across him as he gracefully +manipulated the shells.</p> + +<p>"But Cap. did not break permanently into the show business until he +coupled up with the McClintock in Milwaukee. Mac was an Irish +Presbyterian, and was proud of it; he came out of the Black North and +was the most acute harp, mentally, that I had ever had anything to do +with. The Chosen People are not noted for commercial density; but a Jew +could enter Mac's presence attired in the height of fashion and leave it +with only his shoe strings and a hazy recollection as to how the thing +was done.</p> + +<p>"Now, when a team like Cap. and Mac took to pulling together, there just +naturally had to be something doing. They began with a small show under +canvas, and their main card was a twenty-foot boa-constrictor, which +they billed as 'Mighty Mardo.' Then they had a boy with three legs, one +of which they neglected to state was made of wood; also a blushing +damsel with excess embonpoint to the extent of four hundred pounds. With +this outfit they campaigned for one season; in the fall they bought a +museum in St. Louis and settled themselves as impresarios.</p> + +<p>"Now, in my numerous meetings with Cap. I had never thought to ask his +name, so when I saw an 'ad' in the <i>Clipper</i> stating that Sheldon & +McClintock was in need of a good full-toned lecturer that doubled in +brass, I just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1188" id="Page_1188">[Pg 1188]</a></span> sat me down in my ignorance and dropped them a line. They +sent me a ticket to where I was sidetracked up in Michigan, and I +hurried down.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, it's you, is it?' says Cap., as I piked into the ten by twelve +office and announced myself. 'Well, I've heard you throw a spiel and +think you'll do. But I didn't know that you played brass. What's your +instrument?'</p> + +<p>"Now, I had a faint sentiment from the beginning that this clause in +their bill of requirements would get me into trouble, for I knew no more +about band music than a he goat knows about the book of common prayer.</p> + +<p>"'I do the cymbals,' says I.</p> + +<p>"'What!' snorts Cap., rearing up; 'I thought you wrote that you played +brass?'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' says I, 'ain't cymbals brass?'</p> + +<p>"It must have been my cold nerve that won Cap.'s regard, for he placed +me as 'curio hall' lecturer and advertising man at twenty a week.</p> + +<p>"The museum of Sheldon & McClintock proved to be a great notch. More +fake freaks were thought out, worked up and exhibited during the course +of that winter season than I would care to count. Then there was a small +theater attached in which they put on very bad specialties and where +painful-voiced young men and women warbled sentimental ballads about +their childhood homes and stuff of that character. These got about ten +dollars a week and had to do about thirty turns a day; they lived in +their make-up and got so accustomed to grease paint before the end of +their engagements that they felt only half dressed without it.</p> + +<p>"The trick made money, and in about a year McClintock cut loose and went +into a patent promoting scheme.</p> + +<p>"Shortly afterward the first 'continuous house' was opened in St. Louis, +and the novelty of the thing was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1189" id="Page_1189">[Pg 1189]</a></span> body blow to Cap. He made a good +fight, but lost money every day; and at last he imparted to me in +confidence that if business did not improve he could see himself getting +out the shells and limbering up on them preparatory to going out and +facing the world once more.</p> + +<p>"'The bank will stand for three hundred thousand dollars' worth more of +my checks,' says he, 'and after they're used up I'm done.'</p> + +<p>"He began to cut down expenses with the reckless energy of a man who saw +the poor-house looming ahead for him; the results was that his bad shows +grew worse, and the attendance wasn't enough to dust off the seats. The +biggest item of expense about the place was 'Mighty Mardo,' the +boa-constrictor; his diet was live rabbits, and a twenty-foot snake with +a body as thick as a four-inch pipe can dispose of good and plenty of +them when he takes the notion. Cap. began to feed him live rats, and the +mighty one soon began to show the effects of it.</p> + +<p>"'He'll die on you,' says I to Cap. one day.</p> + +<p>"'Let him,' says he; 'the rabbits stay cut out.'</p> + +<p>"One day a fellow came along with a high-schooled horse that he wanted +to sell. He had more use for ready money just then than he had for the +nag, so he offered to put it in cheap. But Cap. waved him away.</p> + +<p>"'I'll need the money to buy meals with before long,' says he to the +fellow, 'so tempt me not to my going hungry.'</p> + +<p>"This little incident seemed to make the old man feel bad; he locked +himself up in the office for four hours or so communing with his inner +self; but when he came out he was looking bright and gay.</p> + +<p>"'Say,' says he, 'I've changed my mind and just bought that horse.'</p> + +<p>"'I didn't see the man come back,' says I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1190" id="Page_1190">[Pg 1190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'I made the deal over the 'phone,' says Cap. Then he pushes a thick wad +of penciled stuff at me. 'Here's some truck I want you to take over to +the printing house,' he goes on. 'When it's out and up the brute will be +well known.'</p> + +<p>"I takes a look over the copy, and my hat was lifted two inches straight +off my head. The first one read something like this:</p> + +<p style="text-align: center;"> +ADMIRAL<br /> +<br /> +THE TALKING HORSE<br /> +<br /> +TALKS LIKE A HUMAN BEING<br /> +VOCAL ORGANS DEVELOPED LIKE THOSE OF<br /> +A MAN<br /> +HEAR HIM SING THE BASS SOLO<br /> +"DOWN IN THE DEPTHS"<br /> +<br /> +TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS<br /> +<br /> +TO ANY ONE PROVING THESE CLAIMS<br /> +FAKE IN THE SLIGHTEST DEGREE<br /> +</p> + +<p>"'Reads good, don't it?' asks Cap., sort of beaming through his +nose-pinzes. 'But give a look at the others.'</p> + +<p>"The next one was as bad as the first:</p> + +<p style="text-align: center;"> +ADMIRAL!!!<br /> +<br /> +THE HORSE WHO RECITES<br /> +THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE<br /> +IN A DEEP BASS VOICE<br /> +AND WITH PERFECT ENUNCIATION<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1191" id="Page_1191">[Pg 1191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'I didn't hear the fellow say the skate could do that kind of stuff,' +says I, just a bit dazed, after looking over a lot more of it.</p> + +<p>"'He only handed it to me as a sort of last card,' says Cap., 'and +that's what made me change my mind about buying him. Get five thousand +twelve sheets in yellow and red; ten thousand three sheets; fifteen +thousand block one sheets with cut of the horse. And you can place an +order for as many black and white dodgers as they can turn out between +this and the end of the week. It's a big card and we're going into it up +to our eyebrows.'</p> + +<p>"If I had had time to consider anything but hustling, I might have +thought the thing was a fake. But it was the old man's game and I left +him to do the worrying. I threw rush orders into the printers and soon +had the presses banging away on the stuff desired.</p> + +<p>"Next day Cap. started a four-inch double-column notice in every paper +in town. I hired an army of distributers and began to put out the +dodgers as they came hot off the bat; then I got a couple of Guinea +bands, put them in open wagons, done up with painted muslin +announcements, and sent them forth to tear off the melody and otherwise +delight the eye and ear of the town. As the big stuff came off the press +it was slapped up on every blank wall and fence in the city that wasn't +under guard; and when the job was finished, St. Louis fairly glared with +it. If there was a person who hadn't heard of the Talking Horse by the +end of the week, they must have been deaf, dead or in jail.</p> + +<p>"The nag was to make his first appearance on Monday, and the last sheet +of paper had been put up and the last hand bill disposed of by Saturday +afternoon.</p> + +<p>"'How does she look?' says Cap. to me when I came in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1192" id="Page_1192">[Pg 1192]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Great,' says I. 'If they ain't tearing the place down to get in on +Monday, why my bump of prophecy has a dent in it.'</p> + +<p>"'Let 'em come,' says Cap., looking very much tickled. 'We need the +money and we ain't turning nobody away. The horse has reached town and +will be brought around to-morrow morning; so you make it a point to be +on hand to let it and the handler in.'</p> + +<p>"I was around bright and early on Sunday morning, and along comes the +horse. He was got up in the swellest horse stuff I ever saw—beaded +blankets of plush and silk, with his name embroidered on them, and all +that kind of goods. The handler was a husky with one lamp and a bad one +at that.</p> + +<p>"'Where do I put him?' says he.</p> + +<p>"'On the top floor,' says I. 'We've got planks on the stairs and a +rigging fixed to haul him up by.'</p> + +<p>"When we got him safely landed and the glad coverings off, I looked him +over.</p> + +<p>"'His intellect must sort of tell on him, don't it?' asks I.</p> + +<p>"'Why, he is some under weight,' says the fellow in charge.</p> + +<p>"'He don't look over-bright to me,' I goes on.</p> + +<p>"'He never does on Sundays,' the husky comes back. 'It's sort of an off +day with him.'</p> + +<p>"Then I went out to lunch and stayed about two hours; when I got back I +found a gang of cops and things buzzing all over the place. Cap. was in +the office, his plug hat on the back of his head and a cigar in his +mouth.</p> + +<p>"'What's the trouble?' says I.</p> + +<p>"'Had a hell of a time around here,' says he. 'I was called up on the +'phone and got down as soon as I could. Just take an observation of that +fellow over there.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1193" id="Page_1193">[Pg 1193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The fellow referred to was the handler of the Talking Horse. His left +arm was done up in splints and bandaged from finger-tips to shoulder, +and he had a clump of reporters around him about six feet thick.</p> + +<p>"'What hit him?' asks I.</p> + +<p>"'About everything on the top floor,' says Cap., solemnly. 'The Talking +Horse is dead. Mighty Mardo broke out of his showcase about an hour ago, +took a couple of half hitches around the Admiral and crushed him to +death.'</p> + +<p>"'Go 'way!' says I.</p> + +<p>"'Sure thing,' says Cap. 'Come up stairs and have a look.'</p> + +<p>"We went up and did so. The place was a wreck; the horse was the deadest +I ever saw and the constrictor was still twined about him.</p> + +<p>"'Why, the snake's passed out, too,' says I.</p> + +<p>"Cap. folds his hands meekly across his breast in a resigned sort of +way.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' says he; 'he, too, was killed in the dreadful struggle. He must +have went straight for the Admiral as soon as he got loose. The handler +was down in the office, alone, when the uproar started; he came jumping +upstairs six steps to the jump and when he sees Mardo putting in that +bunch of body holds on his intelligent charge, why, he took a hand. The +result was a dead snake for me and a crippled wing for him. When I got +here, Doc. Forbes was tying him up,' Cap. goes on rather sorrowful like; +'and when I sees what's happened, I know that I'm a ruined man. So I +'phones for the police and reporters to come down and view my finish.'</p> + +<p>"From the way he talked I expected to see him carted home before the +hour was up; but he wasn't. As soon as the newspaper fellows cleared out +with all the facts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1194" id="Page_1194">[Pg 1194]</a></span> of the case in their note-books, Cap. sends for a +fellow and puts him right to work fixing up the horse and snake so's +they'll keep, and then lays them out.</p> + +<p>"Next morning the newspapers slopped over with scare headlines telling +of the battle. According to their way of looking at it, the struggles in +the arena of old Rome were scared to death in comparison, and modern +times did not come anywhere near showing a parallel of the combat +between the terrible constrictor and the horse with the human voice. The +result of this was that when the time came to open the doors at noon we +had to have a squad of police to keep the mob from blocking traffic for +squares around. Cap. had changed and doubled the size of his ads. over +night.</p> + +<p>"The horse was done up in a big black coffin covered with flowers; and +the lid with his name, age and wonderful accomplishment engraved upon a +plate stood beside him. The remains of Mighty Mardo, stuffed with baled +hay and excelsior, were embracing the dead Admiral with monster coils; +and the crowds came, gazed, and marveled; then they went forth to tell +their friends that they might come and do likewise.</p> + +<p>"For weeks the coin came into the box like a spring freshet in the hill +country, and Cap. must have kept the bank working after hours; at any +rate, he sat around and smoked with a smile so angelic, that, to look at +him, one wondered how he could wear it and not drift away into the +ethereal blue. It was a good month before the thing lost its pulling +power, and when it stopped Cap. had planted the stake that boosted him +into the company he now keeps and set him to handling voices that cost +thousands of simoleons an hour.</p> + +<p>"When all was over, I found time to take the husky,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1195" id="Page_1195">[Pg 1195]</a></span> with the damaged +fin out and throw a few drinks into him. Then he told me the whole +story.</p> + +<p>"'The old man didn't think you could do the thing justice if you were +wise,' says he, 'so he kept you out. This ain't the horse the fellow +offered to sell him, at all. He bought it at a bazar for ten dollars, +the day before I brought it around. When you went out for lunch Cap. he +comes in. We done for the plug in a minute, and as Mighty Marda was all +but gone, on account of his rat diet, we finished him, too. Then we +wrecked the place up some, took a couple of turns about the horse with +Mardo, called in Doc. Forbes, who stood in, to fix up the fictitious +fracture, and then rung in the show.'</p> + +<p>"Yes," observed Bat, thoughtfully, after a pause, "I've made up my mind +that H. Wellington Sheldon is a wise plug."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1196" id="Page_1196">[Pg 1196]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE OWL-CRITIC</h2> + +<h3>BY JAMES T. FIELDS</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The "Daily," the "Herald," the "Post," little heeding<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young man who blurted out such a blunt question;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion;<br /></span> +<span class="i10">And the barber kept on shaving.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Don't you see, Mr. Brown,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried the youth, with a frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How wrong the whole thing is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How preposterous each wing is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I make no apology;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've learned owl-eology.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And can not be blinded to any deflections<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arising from unskilful fingers that fail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mister Brown! Mister Brown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do take that bird down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town!"<br /></span> +<span class="i10">And the barber kept on shaving.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1197" id="Page_1197">[Pg 1197]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I've <i>studied</i> owls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And other night-fowls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I tell you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I know to be true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An owl can not roost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his limbs so unloosed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No owl in this world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever had his claws curled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever had his legs slanted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever had his bill canted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever had his neck screwed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into that attitude.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He can't <i>do</i> it, because<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis against all bird-laws.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anatomy teaches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ornithology preaches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An owl has a toe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That <i>can't</i> turn out so!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've made the white owl my study for years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to see such a job almost moves me to tears!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mr. Brown, I'm amazed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You should be so gone crazed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to put up a bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that posture absurd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To <i>look</i> at that owl really brings on a dizziness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man who stuffed <i>him</i> don't half know his business!"<br /></span> +<span class="i10">And the barber kept on shaving.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Examine those eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm filled with surprise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taxidermists should pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Off on you such poor glass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So unnatural they seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'd make Audubon scream,</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1198" id="Page_1198">[Pg 1198]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">And John Burroughs laugh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To encounter such chaff.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do take that bird down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have him stuffed again, Brown!"<br /></span> +<span class="i10">And the barber kept on shaving.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With some sawdust and bark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could stuff in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An owl better than that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could make an old hat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look more like an owl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than that horrid fowl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fact, about <i>him</i> there's not one natural feather."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then fairly hooted, as if he should say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Your learning's at fault <i>this</i> time, anyway;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good day!"<br /></span> +<span class="i10">And the barber kept on shaving.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1199" id="Page_1199">[Pg 1199]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE MOSQUITO</h2> + +<h3>BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair insect! that, with thread-like legs spread out,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blood-extracting bill, and filmy wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In pitiless ears, fall many a plaintive thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell how little our large veins should bleed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would we but yield them to thy bitter need.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unwillingly, I own, and, what is worse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full angrily, men listen to thy plaint;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou gettest many a brush and many a curse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For saying thou art gaunt, and starved, and faint.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even the old beggar, while he asks for food,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would kill thee, hapless stranger, if he could.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I call thee stranger, for the town, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has not the honor of so proud a birth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou com'st from Jersey meadows, fresh and green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The offspring of the gods, though born on earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Titan was thy sire, and fair was she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ocean-nymph that nursed thy infancy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath the rushes was thy cradle swung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when at length thy gauzy wings grew strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abroad to gentle airs their folds were flung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rose in the sky and bore thee soft along;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The south wind breathed to waft thee on thy way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And danced and shone beneath the billowy bay.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1200" id="Page_1200">[Pg 1200]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Calm rose afar the city spires, and thence<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came the deep murmur of its throng of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as its grateful odors met thy sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They seemed the perfumes of thy native fen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair lay its crowded streets, and at the sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy tiny song grew shriller with delight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At length thy pinion fluttered in Broadway,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, there were fairy steps, and white necks kissed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By wanton airs, and eyes whose killing ray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shone through the snowy veils like stars through mist;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fresh as morn, on many a cheek and chin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloomed the bright blood through the transparent skin.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sure these were sights to tempt an anchorite!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What! do I hear thy slender voice complain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wailest when I talk of beauty's light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if it brought the memory of pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art a wayward being—well, come near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pour thy tale of sorrow in mine ear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What say'st thou, slanderer! rouge makes thee sick?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And China Bloom at best is sorry food?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Rowland's Kalydor, if laid on thick,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Poisons the thirsty wretch that bores for blood?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go! 'twas a just reward that met thy crime;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But shun the sacrilege another time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That bloom was made to look at,—not to touch;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To worship, not approach, that radiant white;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And well might sudden vengeance light on such<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As dared, like thee, most impiously to bite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shouldst have gazed at distance, and admired,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murmured thy admiration and retired.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1201" id="Page_1201">[Pg 1201]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou'rt welcome to the town; but why come here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To bleed a brother poet, gaunt like thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! the little blood I have is dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thin will be the banquet drawn from me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look round: the pale-eyed sisters in my cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy old acquaintance, Song and Famine, dwell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Try some plump alderman, and suck the blood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enriched by generous wine and costly meat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On well-filled skins, sleek as thy native mud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fix thy light pump, and press thy freckled feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go to the men for whom, in ocean's halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The oyster breeds and the green turtle sprawls.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There corks are drawn, and the red vintage flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To fill the swelling veins for thee, and now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ruddy cheek and now the ruddier nose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall tempt thee, as thou flittest round the brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the hour of sleep its quiet brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No angry hand shall rise to brush thy wings.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1202" id="Page_1202">[Pg 1202]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>"TIDDLE-IDDLE-IDDLE-IDDLE-BUM! BUM!"</h2> + +<h3>BY WILBUR D. NESBIT</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When our town band gets on the square<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On concert night you'll find me there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm right beside Elijah Plumb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who plays th' cymbals an' bass drum;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' next to him is Henry Dunn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who taps the little tenor one.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I like to hear our town band play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, best it does, I want to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is when they tell a tune's to come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle-<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Bum-Bum!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O' course, there's some that likes the tunes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like <i>Lily Dale</i> an' <i>Ragtime Coons</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some likes a solo or duet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Charley Green—B-flat cornet—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Ernest Brown—th' trombone man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(An' they can play, er no one can);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it's the best when Henry Dunn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lets them there sticks just cut an' run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' 'Lijah says to let her hum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle-<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Bum-Bum!"</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1203" id="Page_1203">[Pg 1203]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I don't know why, ner what's the use<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' havin' that to interduce<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tune—but I know, as fer me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd ten times over ruther see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elijah Plumb chaw with his chin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A-gettin' ready to begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Henry plays that roll o' his<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' makes them drumsticks fairly sizz,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Announcin' music, on th' drum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle-<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Bum-Bum!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1204" id="Page_1204">[Pg 1204]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MY FIRST CIGAR</h2> + +<h3>BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas just behind the woodshed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One glorious summer day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far o'er the hills the sinking sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pursued his westward way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my safe seclusion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Removed from all the jar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And din of earth's confusion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I smoked my first cigar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">It was my first cigar!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It was the worst cigar!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raw, green and dank, hide-bound and rank<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It was my first cigar!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, bright the boyish fancies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wrapped in the smoke-wreaths blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eyes grew dim, my head was light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The woodshed round me flew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark night closed in around me—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Black night, without a star—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grim death methought had found me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spoiled my first cigar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">It was my first cigar!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A six-for-five cigar!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No viler torch the air could scorch—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It was my first cigar!</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1205" id="Page_1205">[Pg 1205]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All pallid was my beaded brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The reeling night was late,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My startled mother cried in fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"My child, what have you ate?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard my father's smothered laugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It seemed so strange and far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew he knew I knew he knew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'd smoked my first cigar!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">It was my first cigar!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A give-away cigar!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could not die—I knew not why—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It was my first cigar!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since then I've stood in reckless ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I've dared what men can dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've mocked at danger, walked with death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I've laughed at pain and care.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do not dread what may befall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Neath my malignant star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No frowning fate again can make<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Me smoke my first cigar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">I've smoked my first cigar!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My first and worst cigar!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fate has no terrors for the man<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Who's smoked his first cigar!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1206" id="Page_1206">[Pg 1206]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SHONNY SCHWARTZ</h2> + +<h3>BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Haf you seen mine leedle Shonny,—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mit his hair so soft und yellow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und his face so blump und mellow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sooch a funny leedle fellow,—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Efry mornings dot young Shonny—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rises mit der preak off day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und does his chores oup righdt avay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he gan vork so vell as blay,—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mine Katrina says to Shonny,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">"Shonny Schwartz,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Helb your barents all you gan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For dis life vas bud a shban:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Py und py you'll been a man,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How I lofes to see dot Shonny—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vhen he schgampers off to schgool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vhere he alvays minds der rule!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he vas nopody's fool,—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1207" id="Page_1207">[Pg 1207]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How I vish dot leedle Shonny—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could remain von leedle poy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alvays full off life und shoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und dot Time vould not annoy<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nefer mindt, mine leedle Shonny,—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Efry day prings someding new:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alvays keep der righdt in view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und baddle, den, your own canoe,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Keep her in der channel, Shonny,—<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's voyich vill pe quickly o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und den ubon dot bedder shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ve'll meet again, to bart no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Shonny Schwartz.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1208" id="Page_1208">[Pg 1208]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A BULLY BOAT AND A BRAG CAPTAIN</h2> + +<h3><i>A Story of Steamboat Life on the Mississippi</i></h3> + +<h3>BY SOL SMITH</h3> + + +<p>Does any one remember the <i>Caravan</i>? She was what would now be +considered a slow boat—<i>then</i> (1827) she was regularly advertised as +the "fast running," etc. Her regular trips from New Orleans to Natchez +were usually made in from six to eight days; a trip made by her in five +days was considered remarkable. A voyage from New Orleans to Vicksburg +and back, including stoppages, generally entitled the officers and crew +to a month's wages. Whether the <i>Caravan</i> ever achieved the feat of a +voyage to the Falls (Louisville) I have never learned; if she did, she +must have "had a <i>time</i> of it!"</p> + +<p>It was my fate to take passage in this boat. The Captain was a +good-natured, easy-going man, careful of the comfort of his passengers, +and exceedingly fond of the <i>game of brag</i>. We had been out a little +more than five days, and we were in hopes of seeing the bluffs of +Natchez on the next day. Our wood was getting low, and night coming on. +The pilot on duty <i>above</i> (the other pilot held three aces at the time, +and was just calling out the Captain, who "went it strong" on three +kings) sent down word that the mate had reported the stock of wood +reduced to half a cord. The worthy Captain excused himself to the pilot +whose watch was <i>below</i> and the two passengers who made up the party, +and hurried to the deck,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1209" id="Page_1209">[Pg 1209]</a></span> where he soon discovered by the landmarks that +we were about half a mile from a woodyard, which he said was situated +"right round yonder point." "But," muttered the Captain, "I don't much +like to take wood of the yellow-faced old scoundrel who owns it—he +always charges a quarter of a dollar more than any one else; however, +there's no other chance." The boat was pushed to her utmost, and in a +little less than an hour, when our fuel was about giving out, we made +the point, and our cables were out and fastened to trees alongside of a +good-sized wood pile.</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Colonel! How d'ye sell your wood <i>this</i> time?"</p> + +<p>A yellow-faced old gentleman, with a two weeks' beard, strings over his +shoulders holding up to his armpits a pair of copperas-colored +linsey-woolsey pants, the legs of which reached a very little below the +knee; shoes without stockings; a faded, broad-brimmed hat, which had +once been black, and a pipe in his mouth—casting a glance at the empty +guards of our boat and uttering a grunt as he rose from fastening our +"spring line," answered:</p> + +<p>"Why, Capting, we must charge you <i>three and a quarter</i> <span class="smcap">this</span> <i>time</i>."</p> + +<p>"The d—l!" replied the Captain—(captains did swear a little in those +days); "what's the odd <i>quarter</i> for, I should like to know? You only +charged me <i>three</i> as I went down."</p> + +<p>"Why, Capting," drawled out the wood merchant, with a sort of leer on +his yellow countenance, which clearly indicated that his wood was as +good as sold, "wood's riz since you went down two weeks ago; besides, +you are awar that you very seldom stop going <i>down</i>—when you're going +<i>up</i> you're sometimes obleeged to give me a call, becaze the current's +aginst you, and there's no other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1210" id="Page_1210">[Pg 1210]</a></span> woodyard for nine miles ahead; and if +you happen to be nearly out of fooel, why—"</p> + +<p>"Well, well," interrupted the Captain, "we'll take a few cords, under +the circumstances," and he returned to his game of brag.</p> + +<p>In about half an hour we felt the <i>Caravan</i> commence paddling again. +Supper was over, and I retired to my upper berth, situated alongside and +overlooking the brag-table, where the Captain was deeply engaged, having +now the <i>other</i> pilot as his principal opponent. We jogged on +quietly—and seemed to be going at a good rate.</p> + +<p>"How does that wood burn?" inquired the Captain of the mate, who was +looking on at the game.</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't of much account, I reckon," answered the mate; "it's +cottonwood, and most of it green at that."</p> + +<p>"Well, Thompson—(Three aces again, stranger—I'll take that X and the +small change, if you please. It's your deal)—Thompson, I say, we'd +better take three or four cords at the next woodyard—it can't be more +than six miles from here—(Two aces and a bragger, with the age! Hand +over those V's.)."</p> + +<p>The game went on, and the paddles kept moving. At eleven o'clock it was +reported to the Captain that we were nearing the woodyard, the light +being distinctly seen by the pilot on duty.</p> + +<p>"Head her in shore, then, and take in six cords if it's good—see to it, +Thompson; I can't very well leave the game now—it's getting right warm! +This pilot's beating us all to smash."</p> + +<p>The wooding completed, we paddled on again. The Captain seemed somewhat +vexed when the mate informed him that the price was the same as at the +last woodyard—<i>three and a quarter</i>; but soon again became interested +in the game.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1211" id="Page_1211">[Pg 1211]</a></span></p> + +<p>From my upper berth (there were no staterooms <i>then</i>) I could observe +the movements of the players. All the contention appeared to be between +the Captain and the pilots (the latter personages took it turn and turn +about, steering and playing brag), <i>one</i> of them almost invariably +winning, while the two passengers merely went through the ceremony of +dealing, cutting, and paying up their "anties." They were anxious to +<i>learn the game</i>—and they <i>did</i> learn it! Once in a while, indeed, +seeing they had two aces and a bragger, they would venture a bet of five +or ten dollars, but they were always compelled to back out before the +tremendous bragging of the Captain or pilot—or if they did venture to +"call out" on "two bullits and a bragger," they had the mortification to +find one of the officers had the same kind of a hand, and were <i>more +venerable</i>! Still, with all these disadvantages, they continued +playing—they wanted to learn the game.</p> + +<p>At two o'clock the Captain asked the mate how we were getting on.</p> + +<p>"Oh, pretty glibly, sir," replied the mate; "we can scarcely tell what +headway we <i>are</i> making, for we are obliged to keep the middle of the +river, and there is the shadow of a fog rising. This wood seems rather +better than that we took in at Yellow-Face's, but we're nearly out +again, and must be looking out for more. I saw a light just ahead on the +right—shall we hail?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," replied the Captain; "ring the bell and ask 'em what's the +price of wood up here. (I've got you again; here's double kings.)"</p> + +<p>I heard the bell and the pilot's hail, "What's <i>your</i> price for wood?"</p> + +<p>A youthful voice on the shore answered, "Three <i>and</i> a quarter!"</p> + +<p>"D—nèt!" ejaculated the Captain, who had just lost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1212" id="Page_1212">[Pg 1212]</a></span> the price of two +cords to the pilot—the strangers suffering <i>some</i> at the same +time—"three and a quarter again! Are we <i>never</i> to get to a cheaper +country? (Deal, sir, if you please; better luck next time.)"</p> + +<p>The other pilot's voice was again heard on deck:</p> + +<p>"How much <i>have</i> you?"</p> + +<p>"Only about ten cords, sir," was the reply of the youthful salesman.</p> + +<p>The Captain here told Thompson to take six cords, which would last till +daylight—and again turned his attention to the game.</p> + +<p>The pilots here changed places. <i>When did they sleep?</i></p> + +<p>Wood taken in, the <i>Caravan</i> again took her place in the middle of the +stream, paddling on as usual.</p> + +<p>Day at length dawned. The brag-party broke up and settlements were being +made, during which operation the Captain's bragging propensities were +exercised in cracking up the speed of his boat, which, by his reckoning, +must have made at least sixty miles, and <i>would</i> have made many more if +he could have procured good wood. It appears the two passengers, in +their first lesson, had incidentally lost one hundred and twenty +dollars. The Captain, as he rose to see about taking in some <i>good</i> +wood, which he felt sure of obtaining now that he had got above the +level country, winked at his opponent, the pilot, with whom he had been +on very bad terms during the progress of the game, and said, in an +undertone, "Forty apiece for you and I and James (the other pilot) is +not bad for one night."</p> + +<p>I had risen and went out with the Captain, to enjoy a view of the +bluffs. There was just fog enough to prevent the vision taking in more +than sixty yards—so I was disappointed in <i>my</i> expectation. We were +nearing the shore,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1213" id="Page_1213">[Pg 1213]</a></span> for the purpose of looking for wood, the banks being +invisible from the middle of the river.</p> + +<p>"There it is!" exclaimed the Captain; "stop her!" Ding—ding—ding! went +the big bell, and the Captain hailed:</p> + +<p>"Hallo! the woodyard!"</p> + +<p>"Hallo yourself!" answered a squeaking female voice, which came from a +woman with a petticoat over her shoulders in place of a shawl.</p> + +<p>"What's the price of wood?"</p> + +<p>"I think you ought to know the price by this time," answered the old +lady in the petticoat; "it's three and a qua-a-rter! and now you know +it."</p> + +<p>"Three and the d—l!" broke in the Captain. "What, have you raised on +<i>your</i> wood, too? I'll give you <i>three</i>, and not a cent more."</p> + +<p>"Well," replied the petticoat, "here comes the old man—<i>he'll</i> talk to +you."</p> + +<p>And, sure enough, out crept from the cottage the veritable faded hat, +copperas-colored pants, yellow countenance and two weeks' beard we had +seen the night before, and the same voice we had heard regulating the +price of cottonwood squeaked out the following sentence, accompanied by +the same leer of the same yellow countenance:</p> + +<p>"Why, darn it all, Capting, there is but three or four cords left, and +<i>since it's you</i>, I don't care if I <i>do</i> let you have it for +<i>three</i>—<i>as you're a good customer</i>!"</p> + +<p>After a quick glance at the landmarks around, the Captain bolted, and +turned in to take some rest.</p> + +<p>The fact became apparent—the reader will probably have discovered it +some time since—that <i>we had been wooding all night at the same +woodyard</i>!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1214" id="Page_1214">[Pg 1214]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>WHEN THE ALLEGASH DRIVE GOES THROUGH</h2> + +<h3>BY HOLMAN F. DAY</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We're spurred with the spikes in our soles;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is water a-swash in our boots;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hands are hard-calloused by peavies and poles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we're drenched with the spume of the chutes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We gather our herds at the head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the axes have toppled them loose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down from the hills where the rivers are fed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We harry the hemlock and spruce.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We hurroop them with the peavies from their sullen beds of snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the pickpole for a goadstick, down the brimming streams we go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are hitching, they are halting, and they lurk and hide and dodge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sneak for skulking-eddies, they bunt the bank and lodge;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we almost can imagine that they hear the yell of saws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the grunting of the grinders of the paper-mills, because<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They loiter in the shallows and they cob-pile at the falls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they buck like ugly cattle where the broad dead-water crawls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we wallow in and welt 'em, with the water to our waist,</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1215" id="Page_1215">[Pg 1215]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the driving pitch is dropping and the drouth is gasping "Haste"!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here a dam and there a jam, that is grabbed by grinning rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gnawed by the teeth of the ravening ledge that slavers at our flocks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twenty a month for daring Death—for fighting from dawn to dark—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twenty and grub and a place to sleep in God's great public park;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We roofless go, with the cook's bateau to follow our hungry crew—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A billion of spruce and hell turned loose when the Allegash drive goes through.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">My lad with the spurs at his heel<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Has a cattle-ranch bronco to bust;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A thousand of Texans to wheedle and wheel<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To market through smother and dust;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But I with the peavy and pole<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Am driving the herds of the pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Grant to my brother what suits his soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But no bellowing brutes in mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He would wince to wade and wallow—and I hate a horse or steer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we stand the kings of herders—he for There and I for Here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he rides with Death behind him when he rounds the wild stampede,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will chop the jamming king-log and I'll match him deed for deed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for me the greenwood savor, and the lash across my face</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1216" id="Page_1216">[Pg 1216]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of the spitting spume that belches from the back-wash of the race;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory of the tumult where the tumbling torrent rolls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With half a hundred drivers riding through with lunging poles;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's huzza, for reckless chances! Here's hurrah for those who ride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the jaws of boiling sluices, yeasty white from side to side!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our brawny fists are calloused, and we're mostly holes and hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if grit were golden bullion we'd have coin to spend and spare!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here some rips and there the lips of a whirlpool's bellowing mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death we clinch and Time we fight, for behind us gasps the Drouth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twenty a month, bateau for a home, and only a peep at town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For our money is gone in a brace of nights after the drive is down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with peavies and poles and care-free souls our ragged and roofless crew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swarms gayly along with whoop and song when the Allegash drive goes through.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2> + + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> From "At the Sign of the Dollar," by Wallace Irwin. +Copyright, 1905, by Fox, Duffield & Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Lippincott's Magazine.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright, 1904, by +Fox, Duffield & Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Lippincott's Magazine.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> From <i>Double Trouble</i>. It should be explained that Mr. +Amidon is suffering from dual consciousness and in his other state is +known as Eugene Brassfield. As the supposed Brassfield he has gone, +while in his Amidon state of consciousness, to a meeting of the lodge to +which as Brassfield he belongs.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Lippincott's Magazine.</p></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume +VI. 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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: The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VI. (of X.) + +Author: Various + +Editor: Marshall P. Wilder + +Release Date: September 18, 2006 [EBook #19324] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIT AND HUMOR OF *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + +Library Edition + +THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA + +In Ten Volumes + +VOL. VI + + + + +[Illustration: FINLEY PETER DUNNE (MR. DOOLEY)] + + + + +THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA + +EDITED BY MARSHALL P. WILDER + +_Volume VI_ + + +Funk & Wagnalls Company +New York and London + +Copyright MDCCCCVII, BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY +Copyright MDCCCCXI, THE THWING COMPANY + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + Abou Ben Butler John Paul 1167 + Advertiser, The Eugene Field 1101 + After the Funeral James M. Bailey 1146 + Apostasy of William Dodge, The Stanley Waterloo 1084 + Ballad of Grizzly Gulch, The Wallace Irwin 1073 + Banty Tim John Hay 1173 + Bear Story, The James Whitcomb Riley 1047 + Book-Canvasser, The Anonymous 1113 + Bully Boat and a Brag Captain, A Sol Smith 1208 + Bumblebeaver, The Kenyon Cox 1145 + Casey at the Bat Ernest Lawrence Thayer 1148 + Chad's Story of the Goose F. Hopkinson Smith 993 + Colonel Carter's Story of + the Postmaster F. Hopkinson Smith 1052 + Comic Miseries John G. Saxe 1121 + Coquette, The John G. Saxe 1127 + De Gradual Commence Wallace Bruce Amsbary 1164 + Evening Oliver Wendell Holmes 1175 + Fairport Art Museum, The Octave Thanet 1062 + Famous Mulligan Ball, The Frank L. Stanton 1103 + Genial Idiot Discusses the Music + Cure, The John Kendrick Bangs 1105 + Grains of Truth Bill Nye 985 + Her Valentine Richard Hovey 1117 + It Pays to be Happy Tom Masson 1170 + James and Reginald Eugene Field 1171 + Jones Lloyd Osbourne 1007 + Latter-Day Warnings Oliver Wendell Holmes 1168 + Lost Chords Eugene Field 1080 + Love Sonnets of an Office Boy S.E. Kiser 1056 + Martyrdom of Mr. Stevens, The Herbert Quick 1151 + Merchant and the Book-Agent, The Anonymous 1124 + Modern Farmer, The Jack Appleton 1083 + Mosquito, The William Cullen Bryant 1199 + Mr. Dooley on the Game of Football Finley Peter Dunne 1059 + My First Cigar Robert J. Burdette 1204 + My Philosofy James Whitcomb Riley 1076 + Octopussycat, The Kenyon Cox 1112 + Old Settler, The Ed. Mott 1177 + Owl-Critic, The James T. Fields 1196 + Paintermine, The Kenyon Cox 1100 + Shonny Schwartz Charles Follen Adams 1206 + Society Upon the Stanislaus, The Bret Harte 1078 + So Wags the World Anne Warner 1092 + Spring Feeling, A Bliss Carman 1129 + Talking Horse, The John T. McIntyre 1185 + Thompson Street Poker Club, The Henry Guy Carleton 1140 + Thoughts fer the Discuraged Farmer James Whitcomb Riley 1081 + "Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle-bum! bum!" Wilbur D. Nesbit 1202 + Unconscious Humor J.K. Wetherell 998 + Up and Down Old Brandywine James Whitcomb Riley 1003 + Verre Definite Wallace Bruce Amsbary 1183 + Wasted Opportunities Roy Farrell Greene 1132 + Weddin', The Jennie Betts Hartswick 1134 + Welsh Rabbittern, The Kenyon Cox 1120 + When the Allegash Drive Goes Through Holman F. Day 1214 + Wild Boarder, The Kenyon Cox 1163 + +COMPLETE INDEX AT THE END OF VOLUME X. + + + + +GRAINS OF TRUTH + +BY BILL NYE + + +A young friend has written to me as follows: "Could you tell me +something of the location of the porcelain works in Sevres, France, and +what the process is of making those beautiful things which come from +there? How is the name of the town pronounced? Can you tell me anything +of the history of Mme. Pompadour? Who was the Dauphin? Did you learn +anything of Louis XV whilst in France? What are your literary habits?" + +It is with a great, bounding joy that I impart the desired information. +Sevres is a small village just outside of St. Cloud (pronounced San +Cloo). It is given up to the manufacture of porcelain. You go to St. +Cloud by rail or river, and then drive over to Sevres by diligence or +voiture. Some go one way and some go the other. I rode up on the Seine, +aboard of a little, noiseless, low-pressure steamer about the size of a +sewing machine. It was called the Silvoo Play, I think. + +The fare was thirty centimes--or, say, three cents. After paying my fare +and finding that I still had money left, I lunched at St. Cloud in the +open air at a trifling expense. I then took a bottle of milk from my +pocket and quenched my thirst. Traveling through France one finds that +the water is especially bad, tasting of the Dauphin at times, and +dangerous in the extreme. I advise those, therefore, who wish to be well +whilst doing the Continent, to carry, especially in France, as I did, a +large, thick-set bottle of milk, or kumiss, with which to take the wire +edge off one's whistle whilst being yanked through the Louvre. + +St. Cloud is seven miles west of the center of Paris and almost ten +miles by rail on the road to Versailles--pronounced Vairsi. St. Cloud +belongs to the canton of Sevres and the arrondissement of Versailles. An +arrondissement is not anything reprehensible. It is all right. You, +yourself, could belong to an arrondissement if you lived in France. + +St. Cloud is on the beautiful hill slope, looking down the valley of the +Seine, with Paris in the distance. It is peaceful and quiet and +beautiful. Everything is peaceful in Paris when there is no revolution +on the carpet. The steam cars run safely and do not make so much noise +as ours do. The steam whistle does not have such a hold on people as it +does here. The adjutant-general at the depot blows a little tin bugle, +the admiral of the train returns the salute, the adjutant-general says +"Allons!" and the train starts off like a somewhat leisurely young man +who is going to the depot to meet his wife's mother. + +One does not realize what a Fourth of July racket we live in and employ +in our business till he has been the guest of a monarchy of Europe, +between whose toes the timothy and clover have sprung up to a great +height. And yet it is a pleasing change, and I shall be glad when we as +a republic have passed the blow-hard period, laid aside the +ear-splitting steam whistle, settled down to good, permanent +institutions, and taken on the restful, soothful, Boston air which comes +with time and the quiet self-congratulation that one is born in a Bible +land and with Gospel privileges, and where the right to worship in a +strictly high-church manner is open to all. + +The Palace of St. Cloud was once the residence of Napoleon I in +summer-time. He used to go out there for the heated term, and folding +his arms across his stomach, have thought after thought regarding the +future of France. Yet he very likely never had an idea that some day it +would be a thrifty republic, engaged in growing green peas, or pulling a +soiled dove out of the Seine, now and then, to add to the attractions of +her justly celebrated morgue. + +Louis XVIII also put up at the Palace in St. Cloud several summers. He +spelled it "palais," which shows that he had very poor early English +advantages, or that he was, as I have always suspected, a native of +Quebec. Charles X also changed the bedding somewhat, and moved in during +his reign. He also added a new iron sink and a place in the barn for +washing buggies. Louis Philippe spent his summers here for a number of +years, and wrote weekly letters to the Paris papers, signed "Uno," in +which he urged the taxpayers to show more veneration for their royal +nibs. Napoleon III occupied the palais in summer during his lifetime, +availing himself finally of the use of Mr. Bright's justly celebrated +disease and dying at the dawn of better institutions for beautiful but +unhappy France. + +I visited the palais (pronounced pallay), which was burned by the +Prussians in 1870. The grounds occupy 960 acres, which I offered to buy +and fit up, but probably I did not deal with responsible parties. This +part of France reminds me very much of North Carolina. I mean, of +course, the natural features. Man has done more for France, it seems to +me, than for the Tar Heel State, and the cities of Asheville and Paris +are widely different. The police of Paris rarely get together in front +of the court-house to pitch horseshoes or dwell on the outlook for the +goober crop. + +And yet the same blue, ozonic sky, if I may be allowed to coin a word, +the same soft, restful, _dolce frumenti_ air of gentle, genial health, +and of cark destroying, magnetic balm to the congested soul, the +inflamed nerve and the festering brain, are present in Asheville that +one finds in the quiet drives of San Cloo with the successful squirt of +the mighty fountains of Vairsi and the dark and whispering forests of +Fon-taine-_bloo_. + +The palais at San Cloo presents a rather dejected appearance since it +was burned, and the scorched walls are bare, save where here and there a +warped and wilted water pipe festoons the blackened and blistered wreck +of what was once so grand and so gay. + +San Cloo has a normal school for the training of male teachers only. I +visited it, but for some cause I did not make a hit in my address to the +pupils until I began to speak in their own national tongue. Then the +closest attention was paid to what I said, and the keenest delight was +manifest on every radiant face. The president, who spoke some English, +shook hands with me as we parted, and I asked him how the students took +my remarks. He said: "They shall all the time keep the thinkness--what +you shall call the recollect--of monsieur's speech in preserves, so that +they shall forget it not continualle. We shall all the time say we have +not witness something like it since the time we come here, and have not +so much enjoy ourselves since the grand assassination by the guillotine. +Come next winter and be with us for one week. Some of us will remain in +the hall each time." + +At San Cloo I hired of a quiet young fellow about thirty-five years of +age, who kept a very neat livery stable there, a sort of victoria and a +big Percheron horse, with fetlock whiskers that reminded me of the +Sutherland sisters. As I was in no hurry I sat on the iron settee in the +cool court of the livery stable, and with my arm resting on the shoulder +of the proprietor I spoke of the crops and asked if generally people +about there regarded the farmer movement as in any way threatening to +the other two great parties. He did not seem to know, and so I watched +the coachman who was to drive me, as he changed his clothes in order to +give me my money's worth in grandeur. + +One thing I liked about France was that the people were willing, at a +slight advance on the regular price, to treat a very ordinary man with +unusual respect and esteem. This surprised and delighted me beyond +measure, and I often told people there that I did not begrudge the +additional expense. The coachman was also hostler, and when the carriage +was ready he altered his attire by removing a coarse, gray shirt or +tunic and putting on a long, olive green coachman's coat, with erect +linen collar and cuffs sewed into the collar and sleeves. He wore a high +hat that was much better than mine, as is frequently the case with +coachmen and their employers. My coachman now gives me his silk hat when +he gets through with it in the spring and fall, so I am better dressed +than I used to be. + +But we were going to say a word regarding the porcelain works at Sevres. +It is a modern building and is under government control. The museum is +filled with the most beautiful china dishes and funny business that one +could well imagine. Besides, the pottery ever since its construction has +retained its models, and they, of course, are worthy of a day's study. +The "Sevres blue" is said to be a little bit bluer than anything else in +the known world except the man who starts a nonpareil paper in a pica +town. + +I was careful not to break any of these vases and things, and thus +endeared myself to the foreman of the place. All employes are uniformed +and extremely deferential to recognized ability. Practically, for half a +day, I owned the place. + +A cattle friend of mine who was looking for a dynasty, whose tail he +could twist while in Europe, and who used often to say over our glass of +vin ordinaire (which I have since learned is not the best brand at all), +that nothing would tickle him more than "to have a little deal with a +crowned head and get him in the door," accidentally broke a blue crock +out there at Sevres which wouldn't hold over a gallon, and it took the +best part of a carload of cows to pay for it, he told me. + +The process of making the Sevres ware is not yet published in book form, +especially the method of coloring and enameling. It is a secret +possessed by duly authorized artists. The name of the town is pronounced +Save. + +Mme. Pompadour is said to have been the natural daughter of a butcher, +which I regard as being more to her own credit than though she had been +an artificial one. Her name was Jeanne Antoinette Poisson Le Normand +d'Etioles, Marchioness de Pompadour, and her name is yet used by the +authorities of Versailles as a fire escape, so I am told. + +She was the mistress of Louis XV, who never allowed her to put her hands +in dishwater during the entire time she visited at his house. D'Etioles +was her first husband, but she left him for a gay but rather +reprehensible life at court, where she was terribly talked about, though +she is said not to have cared a cent. + +She developed into a marvelous politician, and early seeing that the +French people were largely governed by the literary lights of that time, +she began to cultivate the acquaintance of the magazine writers, and +tried to join the Authors' Club. + +She then became prominent by originating a method of doing up the hair, +which has since grown popular among people whose hair has not, like my +own, been already "done up." + +This style of Mme. Pompadour's was at once popular with the young men +who ran the throttles of the soda fountains of that time, and is still +well spoken of. A young friend of mine trained his hair up from his +forehead in that way once and could not get it down again. During his +funeral his hair, which had been glued down by the undertaker, became +surprised at something said by the clergyman and pushed out the end of +his casket. + +The king tired in a few years of Mme. Pompadour and wished that he had +not encouraged her to run away from her husband. She, however, retained +her hold upon the blase and alcoholic monarch by her wonderful +versatility and genius. + +When all her talents as an artiste and politician palled upon his old +rum-soaked and emaciated brain, and ennui, like a mighty canker, ate +away large corners of his moth-eaten soul, she would sit in the gloaming +and sing to him, "Hard Times, Hard Times, Come Again No More," meantime +accompanying herself on the harpsichord or the sackbut or whatever they +played in those days. Then she instituted theatricals, giving, through +the aid of the nobility, a very good version of "Peck's Bad Boy" and +"Lend Me Five Centimes." + +She finally lost her influence over Looey the XV, and as he got to be an +old man the thought suddenly occurred to him to reform, and so he had +Mme. Pompadour beheaded at the age of forty-two years. This little +story should teach us that no matter how gifted we are, or how high we +may wear our hair, our ambitions must be tempered by honor and +integrity; also that pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit +before a plunk. + + + + +CHAD'S STORY OF THE GOOSE + +BY F. HOPKINSON SMITH + + +I nodded my head, and Chad closed the door softly, taking with him a +small cup and saucer, and returning in a few minutes followed by that +most delicious of all aromas, the savory steam of boiling coffee. + +"My Marsa John," he continued, filling the cup with the smoking +beverage, "never drank nuffin' but tea, eben at de big dinners when all +de gemmen had coffee in de little cups--dat's one ob 'em you's drinkin' +out ob now; dey ain't mo' dan fo' on 'em left. Old marsa would have his +pot ob tea: Henny use' ter make it for him; makes it now for Miss Nancy. + +"Henny was a young gal den, long 'fo' we was married. Henny b'longed to +Colonel Lloyd Barbour, on de next plantation to ourn. + +"Mo' coffee, Major?" I handed Chad the empty cup. He refilled it, and +went straight on without drawing breath. + +"Wust scrape I eber got into wid old Marsa John was ober Henny. I tell +ye she was a harricane in dem days. She come into de kitchen one time +where I was helpin' git de dinner ready, an' de cook had gone to de +spring house, an' she says: + +"'Chad, what ye cookin' dat smells so nice?' + +"'Dat's a goose,' I says, 'cookin' for Marsa John's dinner. We got +quality,' says I, pointin' to de dinin'-room do'. + +"'Quality!' she says. 'Spec' I know what de quality is. Dat's for you +an' de cook.' + +"Wid dat she grabs a caarvin' knife from de table, opens de do' ob de +big oven, cuts off a leg ob de goose, an' dis'pears round de kitchen +corner wid de leg in her mouf. + +"'Fo' I knowed whar I was Marsa John come to de kitchen do' an' says, +'Gittin' late, Chad; bring in de dinner.' You see, Major, dey ain't no +up an' down stairs in de big house, like it is yer; kitchen an' +dinin'-room all on de same flo'. + +"Well, sah, I was scared to def, but I tuk dat goose an' laid him wid de +cut side down on de bottom of de pan 'fo' de cook got back, put some +dressin' an' stuffin' ober him, an' shet de stove do'. Den I tuk de +sweet potatoes an' de hominy an' put 'em on de table, an' den I went +back in de kitchen to git de baked ham. I put on de ham an' some mo' +dishes, an' marsa says, lookin' up: + +"'I t'ought dere was a roast goose, Chad.' + +"'I ain't yerd nothin' 'bout no goose,' I says, 'I'll ask de cook.' + +"Next minute I yerd old marsa a-hollerin': + +"'Mammy Jane, ain't we got a goose?' + +"'Lord-a-massy! yes, marsa. Chad, you wu'thless nigger, ain't you tuk +dat goose out yit?' + +"'Is we got a goose?' said I. + +"'_Is we got a goose?_ Didn't you help pick it?' + +"I see whar my hair was short, an' I snatched up a hot dish from de +hearth, opened de oven do', an' slide de goose in jes as he was, an' lay +him down befo' Marsa John. + +"'Now see what de ladies'll have for dinner,' says old marsa, pickin' up +his caarvin' knife. + +"'What'll you take for dinner, miss?' says I. 'Baked ham?' + +"'No,' she says, lookin' up to whar Marsa John sat; 'I think I'll take a +leg ob dat goose'--jes so. + +"Well, marsa, cut off de leg an' put a little stuffin' an' gravy on wid +a spoon, an' says to me, 'Chad, see what dat gemman'll have.' + +"'What'll you take for dinner, sah?' says I. 'Nice breast o' goose, or +slice o' ham?' + +"'No; I think I'll take a leg of dat goose,' he says. + +"I didn't say nuffin', but I knowed bery well he wa'n't a-gwine to git +it. + +"But, Major, you oughter seen ole marsa lookin' for der udder leg ob dat +goose! He rolled him ober on de dish, dis way an' dat way, an' den he +jabbed dat ole bone-handled caarvin' fork in him an' hel' him up ober de +dish an' looked under him an' on top ob him, an' den he says, kinder sad +like: + +"'Chad, whar is de udder leg ob dat goose?' + +"'It didn't hab none,' says I. + +"'You mean ter say, Chad, dat de gooses on my plantation on'y got one +leg?' + +"'Some ob 'em has an' some ob 'em ain't. You see, marsa, we got two +kinds in de pond, an' we was a little boddered to-day, so Mammy Jane +cooked dis one 'cause I cotched it fust.' + +"'Well,' said he, lookin' like he look when he send for you in de little +room, 'I'll settle wid ye after dinner.' + +"Well, dar I was shiverin' an' shakin' in my shoes, an' droppin' gravy +an' spillin' de wine on de table-cloth, I was dat shuck up; an' when de +dinner was ober he calls all de ladies an' gemmen, an' says, 'Now come +down to de duck pond. I'm gwineter show dis nigger dat all de gooses on +my plantation got mo' den one leg.' + +"I followed 'long, trapesin' after de whole kit an' b'ilin', an' when we +got to de pond"--here Chad nearly went into a convulsion with +suppressed laughter--"dar was de gooses sittin' on a log in de middle of +dat ole green goose-pond wid one leg stuck down so, an' de udder tucked +under de wing." + +Chad was now on one leg, balancing himself by my chair, the tears +running down his cheek. + +"'Dar, marsa,' says I, 'don't ye see? Look at dat ole gray goose! Dat's +de berry match ob de one we had to-day.' + +"Den de ladies all hollered, an' de gemmen laughed so loud dey yerd 'em +at de big house. + +"'Stop, you black scoun'rel!' Marsa John says, his face gittin' white +an' he a-jerkin' his handkerchief from his pocket. 'Shoo!' + +"Major, I hope to have my brains kicked out by a lame grasshopper if +ebery one ob dem gooses didn't put down de udder leg! + +"'Now, you lyin' nigger,' he says, raisin' his cane ober my head, 'I'll +show you'-- + +"'Stop, Marsa John!' I hollered; ''t ain't fair, 't ain't fair.' + +"'Why ain't it fair?' says he. + +"''Cause,' says I, 'you didn't say "Shoo!" to de goose what was on de +table'." + +Chad laughed until he choked. + +"And did he thrash you?" + +"Marsa John? No, sah. He laughed loud as anybody; an' den dat night he +says to me as I was puttin' some wood on de fire: + +"'Chad, where did dat leg go?' An' so I ups an' tells him all about +Henny, an' how I was lyin' 'case I was 'feared de gal would git hurt, +an' how she was on'y a-foolin', thinkin' it was my goose; an' den de ole +marsa look in de fire for a long time, an' den he says: + +"'Dat's Colonel Barbour's Henny, ain't it, Chad?' + +"'Yes, marsa,' says I. + +"Well, de next mawnin' he had his black horse saddled, an' I held the +stirrup for him to git on, an' he rode ober to de Barbour plantation, +an' didn't come back till plumb black night. When he come up I held de +lantern so I could see his face, for I wa'n't easy in my mine all day. +But it was all bright an' shinin' same as a' angel's. + +"'Chad,' he says, handin' me de reins, 'I bought yo' Henny dis arternoon +from Colonel Barbour, an' she's comin' ober to-morrow, an' you can bofe +git married next Sunday.'" + + + + +UNCONSCIOUS HUMOR + +BY J.K. WETHERILL + + +Perhaps unconscious humor does not appeal to the more amiable side of +our sense of mirth, for it excites in us a conceited feeling of +superiority over those who are making us laugh,--but its unexpectedness +and infinite variety render it irresistible to a certain class of minds. +The duly labeled "joke" follows a certain law and rule; whereas no +jester could invent the _grotesqueries_ of the unconscious humorist. + +As a humble gleaner after the editorial scythe,--or, to be truly modern, +I should say mowing-machine,--I have gathered some strange sheaves of +this sort of humor. Like many provincial newspapers, that to which I am +attached makes a feature of printing the social happenings in villages +of the surrounding country, and these out-of-town correspondents "don't +do a thing to" the English language. One of them invariably refers to +the social lights of his vicinity as "our prominent socialists," and +describes some individual as "happening to an accident." To another, +every festal occasion is "a bower of beauty and a scene of fairyland." +Blue-penciling they resent, and one of them wrote to complain that a +descriptive effort of his had been "much altered and deranged." The +paper also publishes portraits of children and young women, and it is in +the descriptions accompanying these pictures that the rural +correspondent excels himself. One wound up his eulogy in an apparently +irrepressible burst of enthusiasm: "She is indeed a _tout ensemble_." A +child of six months was described as "studious"; and another +correspondent went into details thus: "Little Willie has only one large +blue eye, the other having been punched out by his brother with a stick, +by accident." A small child was accredited with "a pleasing disposition +and a keen juvenile conception." + +The following are some of the descriptive phrases applied to village +belles: "She is perfectly at home on the piano, where her executions +have attained international celebrity." ... "She possesses a mine of +repartee and the qualities which have long rendered illustive her noble +family." ... "Her carriage and disposition are swan-like." ... "Her eyes +can express pathetic pathos, but flash forth fiery independence when her +country's name is traduced." ... "She has a molded arm, and her +Juno-like form glides with a rhythmic move in the soft swell of a +Strauss." ... "Her chestnut hair gives a rich recess to her lovely, +fawnlike eyes, which shine like a star set in the crown of an angel." +... One writer becomes absolutely incoherent in his admiration, and +lavishes a mixture of metaphors upon his subject: "She portrays a +picture worthy of a Raphael. She dances like the fairies before the +heavenly spirits. She looks like a celestial goddess from an outburst of +morning-glories; her lovely form would assume a phantomlike flash as she +glides the floor, as though she were a mystic dream." + +Scarcely less rich in unconscious humor are some of the effusions of +those who have literary aspirations. A descriptive article contains a +reference to "a lonely house that stood in silent mutiny." "Indians who +border on civilization, an interesting people in their superstitious +way," infested the vicinity, and one of the points of interest was the +Wild Man's Leap, "so called from an Indian who is said to have leaped +across to get away from some men who were trying to expatriate him." An +aspirant made this generous offer: "I will write you an article every +week if you so wish it, as I have nothing to do after supper." Modest +was the request of another, concerning remuneration: "I do not ask for +money, but would like you to send me a small monkey. I already have a +parrot." + +But no finer specimen of unconscious humor has ever fallen under the +sub-editorial eye than "The Beautiful Circus Girl." In these +enterprising days rising young authors sometimes boast in print of their +ignorance of grammar and spelling, but the author of the aforementioned +bit of fiction surpasses them all in that respect. It seems only just +that such a unique gem should be rescued from the dull obscurity of the +waste-basket. + + +THE BEAUTIFUL CIRCUS GIRL + +Some years ago the quaint but slow little village of Mariana was all on +the qui-of-eve with excitement. Pasted on every tree and sign was +announcements of Hall's circus, and the aperence of pretty Rose Floid in +the pearless feets of tight-rope dancing, and Seignor Paul Paulo as her +attendent. All the vilage was agog, for in their midst had old Hall and +his Wife whome he always (spoke of as the Misus) taken a small but +quaint cotage, so as to make quiet and please Rose whose guardien he +was. + +In the distanse was seen an advancing teem, and mounted on its box +driving was W. Alexander, distinguished as to aperence, tallent, and +that charm, _money_. He was of the most patricien aristocrats of the +place. Placed on the summit of one of those hils that spring up in the +most unexpected ways and degrees was the quaint old Tudor mansion of the +Alexanders called Waterloo, in rememberence of the home of his ancestors +which now rests on the banks of the Potomack; a legend as to war and +romance. Though bearing with him all the honners that Cambridg could +confere, W. Alexander was a faverite in the vilage, being ever ready +with a kind enquiry as to Parent, or peny for marbles, not forgetting +his boyhoods days. Though the beau par excelant of the vilage, and +posessing vast landed estate and a kind retinu, he was not haughty. + +Every one was eger to see Rose perform. She in her pasage too and frow +had won by her sweet manners (many likings) ere she exhibited her skill. + +The eventful hour of promis came and what a crowd was there. Rose came +fourth, asisted by Paul Paulo. His form was molded even as an Apolo, and +his eger eye was fixed on the bony girl. She ballanced her pole, saught +her equiliberum, and every heart was at her desposal, not accepting W. +Alexander. Seeing this, the dark pashonate eye of the Italian scowled. + +So droped the curtain of the first performance. And W. Alexander stroled +on towards his home, heart and head full of the beautiful circus girl, +thoughts were very conflicting, love at first sight. + +(We will skip, for want of space, the exquisite passages descriptive of +the mutual love of Rose and W. Alexander, and pass on to the finale.) + +There was a paus, a sencation, and Rose came fourth to meander in +mid-air. Admeration was at its hight, as she swayed too and frow as it +were a winged egle from some etherial climb. + +Low! a paus--the rope snaps--and Rose falls to erth a helpless mass of +youth and beauty. The venerable man of medicin closed her star-lit eyes +now forever dimed to this world. And all knew she had walked the last +rope that bound her to this erth. + +What, who, was her murderer? + +The rope seemed to be cut with some jaged instrument so that when her +tiny feat pressed its coils it became her destroyer. + +Suspician pointed at the Italian. + +W. Alexander's old Father of sympathy now the strongest, entreted our +Hero to sale for distent shores, there asisted by that balm time and +change, there assuage his grefe. + +Well, came the last evening, and with the sadest of hearts and a bunch +of sweet violets W. Alexander went to bid a long fare well. + +But as he neared the sacred spot his heart seemed deadened. Prone on her +grave changing the snowy whiteness of the flowers with its crimson die +was the body of Paul Paulo. Who by his own hand caused his life blood to +floe as an attonement. + + + + +UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDYWINE + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + + Up and down old Brandywine, + In the days 'at's past and gone-- + With a dad-burn hook-and-line + And a saplin'-pole--i swawn! + I've had more fun, to the square + Inch, than ever _any_where! + Heaven to come can't discount mine + Up and down old Brandywine! + + Haint no sense in _wishin'_--yit + Wisht to goodness I _could_ jes + "Gee" the blame world round and git + Back to that old happiness!-- + Kindo' drive back in the shade + "The old Covered Bridge" there laid + Crosst the crick, and sorto' soak + My soul over, hub and spoke! + + Honest, now!--it haint no _dream_ + 'At I'm wantin',--but _the fac's_ + As they wuz; the same old stream, + And the same old times, i jacks!-- + Gim me back my bare feet--and + Stonebruise too!--And scratched and tanned! + And let hottest dog-days shine + Up and down old Brandywine! + + In and on betwixt the trees + 'Long the banks, pour down yer noon, + Kindo' curdled with the breeze + And the yallerhammer's tune; + And the smokin', chokin' dust + O' the turnpike at its wusst-- + _Saturd'ys_, say, when it seems + Road's jes jammed with country teams!-- + + Whilse the old town, fur away + 'Crosst the hazy pastur'-land, + Dozed-like in the heat o' day + Peaceful' as a hired hand. + Jolt the gravel th'ough the floor + O' the old bridge!--grind and roar + With yer blame percession-line-- + Up and down old Brandywine! + + Souse me and my new straw-hat + Off the foot-log!--what _I_ care?-- + Fist shoved in the crown o' that-- + Like the old Clown ust to wear. + Wouldn't swop it fer a' old + Gin-u-wine raal crown o' gold!-- + Keep yer _King_ ef you'll gim me + Jes the boy I ust to be! + + Spill my fishin'-worms! er steal + My best "goggle-eye!"--but you + Can't lay hands on joys I feel + Nibblin' like they ust to do! + So, in memory, to-day + Same old ripple lips away + At my cork and saggin' line, + Up and down old Brandywine! + + There the logs is, round the hill, + Where "Old Irvin" ust to lift + Out sunfish from daylight till + Dew-fall--'fore he'd leave "The Drift" + And give _us_ a chance--and then + Kindo' fish back home again, + Ketchin' 'em jes left and right + Where _we_ hadn't got "a bite!" + + Er, 'way windin' out and in,-- + Old path th'ough the iurnweeds + And dog-fennel to yer chin-- + Then come suddent, th'ough the reeds + And cat-tails, smack into where + Them-air woods-hogs ust to scare + Us clean 'crosst the County-line, + Up and down old Brandywine! + + But the dim roar o' the dam + It 'ud coax us furder still + Tords the old race, slow and ca'm, + Slidin' on to Huston's mill-- + Where, I 'spect, "The Freeport crowd" + Never _warmed_ to us er 'lowed + We wuz quite so overly + Welcome as we aimed to be. + + Still it peared-like ever'thing-- + Fur away from home as _there_-- + Had more _relish_-like, i jing!-- + Fish in stream, er bird in air! + O them rich old bottom-lands, + Past where Cowden's Schoolhouse stands! + Wortermelons--_master-mine!_ + Up and down old Brandywine! + + And sich pop-paws!--Lumps o' raw + Gold and green,--jes oozy th'ough + With ripe yaller--like you've saw + Custard-pie with no crust to: + And jes _gorges_ o' wild plums, + Till a feller'd suck his thumbs + Clean up to his elbows! _My!_-- + _Me some more er lem me die!_ + + Up and down old Brandywine!... + Stripe me with pokeberry-juice!-- + Flick me with a pizenvine + And yell "_Yip!_" and lem me loose! + --Old now as I then wuz young, + 'F I could sing as I _have_ sung, + Song 'ud surely ring _dee-vine_ + Up and down old Brandywine! + + + + +JONES + +BY LLOYD OSBOURNE + + +I + +I could have taken "No" like a man, and would have gone away decently +and never bothered her again. I told her so straight out in the first +angry flush of my rejection--but this string business, with everything +left hanging in the air, so to speak, made a fellow feel like thirty +cents. + +"It simply means that I'm engaged and you are not," I said. + +"It's nothing of the kind," she returned tearfully. "You're as free as +free, Ezra. You can go away this moment, and never write or anything!" + +Her lips trembled as she said this, and I confess it gave me a kind of +savage pleasure to feel that it was still in my power to hurt her. + +It may sound unkind, but still you must admit that the whole situation +was exasperating. Here was five-foot-five of exquisite, blooming, +twenty-year-old American girlhood sending away the man she confessed to +care for, because, forsooth, she would not marry before her elder +sister! I always thought it was beautiful of Freddy (she was named +Frederica, you know) to be always so sweet and tender and grateful about +Eleanor; but sometimes gratitude can be carried altogether too far, even +if you _are_ an orphan, and _were_ brought up by hand. Eleanor was +thirty-four if a day--a nice enough woman, of course, and college bred, +and cultivated, and clever--but her long suit wasn't good looks. She was +tall and bony; worshipped genius and all that; and played the violin. + +"No," repeated Freddy, "I shall never, never marry before Eleanor. It +would mortify her--I know it would--and make her feel that she herself +had failed. She's awfully frank about those things, Ezra--surprisingly +frank. I don't see why being an old maid is always supposed to be so +funny, do you? It's touching and tragic in a woman who'd like to marry +and who isn't asked!" + +"But Eleanor must have had heaps of offers," I said, "surely--" + +"Just one." + +"Well, one's something," I remarked cheerfully. "Why didn't she take him +then?" + +"She told me only last night that she was sorry she hadn't!" + +Here, at any rate, was something to chew on. I saw a gleam of hope. Why +shouldn't Eleanor marry the only one--and make us all happy! + +"That was three years ago," said Freddy. + +"I have loved you for four," I retorted. I was cross with +disappointment. To be dashed to the ground, you know, just as I was +beginning--"Tell me some more about him," I went on. I'm a plain +business man and hang on to an idea like a bulldog; once I get my teeth +in they stay in, for all you may drag at me and wallop me with an +umbrella--metaphorically speaking, of course. + +"Tell me his name, where he lives, and all." + +"We were coming back from Colorado, and there was some mistake about our +tickets. They sold our Pullman drawing-room twice over--to Doctor Jones +and his mother, and also to ourselves. You never saw such a fight--and +that led to our making friends, and his proposing to Eleanor!" + +"Then why in Heaven's name didn't she" (it was on the tip of my tongue +to say "jump at him") "take him?" + +"She said she couldn't marry a man who was her intellectual inferior." + +"And was he?" + +"Oh, he was a perfect idiot--but nice, and all that, and tremendously in +love with her. Pity, wasn't it?" + +"The obvious thing to do is to chase him up instantly. Where did you say +he lived?" + +"His mother told me he was going to New York to practice medicine." + +"But didn't you ever hear from him again? I mean, was that the end of it +all?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you don't even know if he has married since?" + +"No!" + +"Nor died?" + +"No." + +"Nor anything at all?" + +"No." + +"What was his first name?" + +"Wait a moment ... let me think ... yes, it was Harry." + +"Just Harry Jones, then, New York City?" + +Freddy laughed forlornly. + +"But he must have had antecedents," I cried out. "There are two ways of +doing this Sherlock Holmes business--backward and forward, you know. +Let's take Doctor Jones backward. As they say in post-office +forms?--what was his place of origin?" + +"New York City." + +"He begins there and ends there, does he, then?" + +"Yes." + +"But how sure are you that Eleanor would marry him if I did manage to +find him and bring him back?" + +"I'm not sure at all." + +"No, but Freddy, listen--it's important. You told me yourself that +she--I want the very identical words she used." + +Freddy reflected. + +"She said she was almost sorry she hadn't accepted that silly doctor!" + +"That doesn't seem much, does it?" I remarked gloomily. + +"Oh, from Eleanor it does, Ezra. She said it quite seriously. She always +hides her feelings under a veil of sarcastic humor, you know." + +"You're certainly a very difficult family to marry," I said. + +"Being an orphan--" she began. + +"Well, I'm going to find that Jones if I--!" + +"Ezra, dear boy, you're crazy. How could you think for a moment that--" + +"I'm off, little girl. Good-by!" + +"Wait a second, Ezra!" + +She rose and went into the next room, reappearing with something in her +hand. She was crying and smiling both at once. I took the little case +she gave me--it was like one of those things that pen-knives are put +in--and looked at her for an explanation. + +"It's the h-h-hindleg of a j-j-jack-rabbit," she said, "shot by a +g-g-grave at the f-f-full of the moon. It's supposed to be l-l-lucky. It +was given to me by a naval officer who got drowned. It's the only way I +can h-h-help you!" + +And thus equipped I started bravely for New York. + + +II + +In the directory I found eleven pages of Joneses; three hundred and +eighty-four Henry Joneses; and (excluding seventeen dentists) +eighty-seven Doctor Henry Joneses. I asked one of the typists in the +office to copy out the list, and prepared to wade in. We were on the eve +of a labor war, and it was exceedingly difficult for me to get away. As +the managing partner of Hodge & Westoby, boxers (not punching boxers, +nor China boxers, but just plain American box-making boxers), I had to +bear the brunt of the whole affair, and had about as much spare time as +you could heap on a ten-cent piece. I had to be firm, conciliatory, +defiant and tactful all at once, and every hour I took off for Jonesing +threatened to blow the business sky-high. It was a tight place and no +mistake, and it was simply jack-rabbit hindleg luck that pulled me +through! + +My first Jones was a hoary old rascal above a drug store. He was a hard +man to get away from, and made such a fuss about my wasting his time +with idle questions that I flung him a dollar and departed. He followed +me down to my cab and insisted on sticking in a giant bottle of his +Dog-Root Tonic. I dropped it overboard a few blocks farther on, and +thought that was the end of it till the whole street began to yell at +me, and a policeman grabbed my horse, while a street arab darted up +breathless with the Dog-Root Tonic. I presented it to him, together with +a quarter, the policeman darkly regarding me as an incipient madman. + +The second Jones was a man of about thirty, a nice, gentlemanly fellow, +in a fine office. I have usually been an off-hand man in business, +accustomed to quick decisions and very little beating about the bush. +But I confess I was rather nonplussed with the second Jones. How the +devil was I to _begin_? His waiting-room was full of people, and I +hardly felt entitled to sit down and gas about one thing and the other +till the chance offered of leading up to the Van Coorts. So I said I had +some queer, shooting sensations in the chest. In five minutes he had me +half-stripped and was pounding my midriff in. And the questions that man +asked! He began with my grandparents, roamed through my childhood and +youth, dissected my early manhood, and finally came down to coffee and +what I ate for breakfast. + +Then it was my turn. + +I asked him, as a starter, whether he had ever been in Colorado? + +No, he hadn't. + +After forty-five minutes of being hammered, and stethoscoped, and +punched, and holding my breath till I was purple, and hopping on one +leg, he said I was a very obscure case of something with nine syllables! + +"At least, I won't be positive with one examination," he said; "but +kindly come to-morrow at nine, when I shall be more at leisure to go +into the matter thoroughly." + +I paid him ten dollars and went sorrowfully away. + +The third Jones was too old to be my man; so was the fourth; the fifth +had gone away the month before, leaving no address; the sixth, however, +was younger and more promising. I thought this time I'd choose something +easier than pains in the chest. I changed them to my left hand. I was +going to keep my clothes on, anyhow. But it wasn't any use. Off they +came. After a decent interval of thumping and grandfathers, and what I +had for breakfast, I managed to get in my question: + +"Ever in Colorado, Doctor?" + +"Oh, dear me, no!" + +Another ten dollars, and nothing accomplished! + +The seventh Jones was again too old; the eighth was a pale hobbledehoy; +the ninth was a loathsome quack; the tenth had died that morning; the +eleventh was busy; the twelfth was a veterinary surgeon; the thirteenth +was an intern living at home with his widowed sister. Colorado? No, the +widowed sister was positive he had never been there. The fourteenth was +a handsome fellow of about thirty-five. He looked poor and threadbare, +and I had a glimpse of a shabby bed behind a screen. Patients obviously +did not often come his way, and his joy at seeing me was pitiful. I had +meant to try a bluff and get in my Colorado question this time free of +charge; but I hadn't the heart to do it. Slight pains in the head seemed +a safe complaint. + +After a few questions he said he would have to make a thorough physical +examination. + +"No clothes off!" I protested. + +"It's essential," he said, and went on with something about the +radio-activity of the brain, and the vasomotor centers. The word motor +made me feel like a sick automobile. I begged to keep my clothes on; I +insisted; I promised to come to-morrow; but it wasn't any good, and in a +few minutes he was hitting me harder than either of the two before. +Maybe I was more tender! He electrocuted me extra from a switchboard, +ran red-hot needles into my legs, and finally, after banging me around +the room, said I was the strongest and wellest man who had ever entered +his office. + +"There's a lot of make-believe in medicine," he said; "but I'm one of +those poor devils who can't help telling a patient the truth. There's +nothing whatever the matter with you, Mr. Westoby, except that your skin +has a slightly abrased look, and I seem to notice an abnormal +sensitiveness to touch." + +"Were you ever in Colorado, Doctor?" I asked while he was good enough to +help me into my shirt. + +"Oh, yes, I know Colorado well!" + +My heart beat high. + +"Some friends of mine were out there three years ago," I said. "Wouldn't +it be strange if by any chance the Van Coorts--" + +"Oh, I left Denver when I was fifteen." + +Five dollars! + +The fifteenth Jones was a doctor of divinity; the sixteenth was a +tapeworm specialist; the seventeenth was too old, the eighteenth was too +old, the nineteenth was too old--a trio of disappointing patriarchs. The +twentieth painted out black eyes; the twenty-first was a Russian who +could scarcely speak any English. He said he had changed his name from +Karaforvochristophervitch to something more suited to American +pronunciation. He seemed to think that Jones gave him a better chance. I +sincerely hope it did. He told me that all the rest of the Jones family +was in Siberia, but that he was going to bomb them out! The +twenty-second was a negro. The twenty-third--! He was a tall, youngish +man, narrow-shouldered, rather commonplace-looking, with beautiful blue +eyes, and a timid, winning, deprecatory manner. I told him I was +suffering from insomnia. After raking over my grandfathers again and +bringing the family history down by stages to the very moment I was +shown into his office he said he should have to ask me to undergo a +thorough physical--! But I was tired of being slapped and punched and +breathed on and prodded, and was bold enough to refuse point-blank. I'd +rather have the insomnia! We worked up quite a fuss about it, for there +was something tenacious in the fellow, for all his mild, kind, gentle +ways; and I had all I could do to get off by pleading press of +business. But I wasn't to escape scot-free. Medical science had to get +even somehow. He compromised by stinging my eye out with belladonna. +Have _you_ ever had belladonna squirted in _your_ eye? Well, don't. + +He was sitting at the table, writing out some cabalistic wiggles that +stood for bromide of potassium, when I remarked casually that it was +strange how well I could always sleep in Colorado. + +He laid down the pen with a sigh. + +"A wonderful state--Colorado," I observed. + +"To me it's the land of memories," he said. "Sad, beautiful, irrevocable +memories--try tea for breakfast--do you read Browning? Then you will +remember that line: 'Oh, if I--' And I insist on your giving up that +cocktail before dinner." + +"Some very dear friends of mine were once in Colorado," I said. +"Morristown people--the Van Coorts." + +"The Van Coorts!" + +Doctor Jones sprang from his chair, his thin, handsome face flushing +with excitement. + +"Do you mean to say that you know Eleanor Van Coort?" he gasped. + +"All my life." + +He dropped back into the chair again and mumbled something about cigars. +I was only to have blank a day. In his perturbation I believe he limited +me to a daily box. He was trying--and trying very badly--to conceal the +emotions I had conjured up. + +"They were talking about you only yesterday," I went on. "That is, if it +_was_ you! A Pullman drawing-room--" + +"And a mistake about the tickets," he broke out. "Yes, yes, it's they +all right. Talking about me, did you say? Did Eleanor--I mean, did Miss +Van Coort--express--?" + +"She was wondering how she could find you," I said. "You see, they're +busy getting up a house-party and she was running over her men. 'If I +only knew where that dear Doctor Jones was,' she said, and then asked +me, if by any possible chance--" + +His fine blue eyes were glistening with all sorts of tender thoughts. It +was really touching. And I was in love myself, you know. + +"So she has remained unmarried!" he exclaimed softly. "Unmarried--after +all these years!" + +"She's a very popular girl," I said. "She's had dozens of men at her +feet--but an unfortunate attachment, something that seems to go back to +about three years ago, has apparently determined her to stay out of the +game!" + +Doctor Jones dropped his head on his hands and murmured something that +sounded like "Eleanor, Eleanor!" Then he looked up with one of the most +radiant smiles I ever saw on a man's face. "I hope I'm not presuming on +a very short acquaintance," he said, "but the fact is--why should I not +tell you?--Miss Van Coort was the woman in my life!" + +I explained to him that Freddy was the woman in mine. + +Then you ought to have seen us fraternize! + +In twenty minutes I had him almost convinced that Eleanor had loved him +all these years. But he worried a lot about a Mr. Wise who had been on +the same train, and a certain Colonel Hadow who had also paid Eleanor +attention. Jones was a great fellow for wanting to be sure. I +pooh-poohed them out of the way and gave him the open track. Then, +indeed, the clouds rolled away. He beamed with joy. In his rich gush of +friendship he recurred to the subject of my insomnia with a new-born +enthusiasm. He subdivided all my symptoms. He dived again into my +physical being. He consulted German authorities. I squirmed and lied +and resisted all I could, but he said he owed me an eternal debt that +could only be liquidated by an absolute cure. He wanted to tie me up and +shoot me with an X-ray. He ordered me to wear white socks. He had a +long, terrifying look at a drop of my blood. He jerked hairs out of my +head to sample my nerve force. He said I was a baffling subject, but +that he meant to make me well if it took the last shot in the scientific +locker. And he wound up at last by refusing point-blank to be paid a +cent! + +I waltzed away on air to write an account of the whole affair to Freddy, +and dictate a plan of operations. I was justified in feeling proud of +myself. Most men would have tamely submitted to their fate instead of +chasing up all the Joneses of Jonesville! Freddy sent me an early +answer--a gay, happy, overflowing little note--telling me to try and +engage Doctor Jones for a three-day house-party at Morristown. I was to +telegraph when he could come, and was promised an official invitation +from Mrs. Matthewman. (She was the aunt, you know, that they lived +with--one of those old porcelain ladies with a lace cap and a +rent-roll.) However, I could not do anything for two days, for we had +reached a crisis in the labor troubles, and matters were approaching the +breaking point. We were threatened with one of those "sympathetic" +strikes that drive business men crazy. There was no question at issue +between ourselves and our employes; but the thing ramified off somewhere +to the sugar vacuum-boiler riveters' union. Finally the S.V.B.R.U. came +to a settlement with their bosses, and peace was permitted to descend on +Hodge & Westoby's. + +I took immediate advantage of it to descend myself on Doctor Jones. He +received me with open arms and an insomniacal outburst. He had been +reading up; he had been seeing distinguished confreres; he had been +mastering the subject to the last dot, and was panting to begin. I hated +to dampen such friendship and ardor by telling him that I had completely +recovered. Under the circumstances it seemed brutal--but I did it. The +poor fellow tried to argue with me, but I insisted that I now slept like +a top. It sounded horribly ungrateful. Here I was spurning the treasures +of his mind, and almost insulting him with my disgusting good health. I +swerved off to the house-party; Eleanor's delight, and so on; Mrs. +Matthewman's pending invitation; the hope that he might have an early +date free-- + +He listened to it all in silence, walking restlessly about the office, +his blue eyes shining with a strange light. He took up a bronze +paper-weight and gazed at it with an intensity of self-absorption. + +"I can't go," he said. + +"Oh, but you have to," I exclaimed. + +"Mr. Westoby," he resumed, "I was foolish enough to back a friend's +credit at a store here. He has skipped to Minnesota, and I am left with +three hundred and four dollars and seventy-five cents to pay. To take a +three days' holiday would be a serious matter to me at any time, but at +this moment it is impossible." + +I gave him a good long look. He didn't strike me as a borrowing kind of +man. I should probably insult him by volunteering. Was there ever +anything so unfortunate? + +"I can't go," he repeated with a little choke. + +"You may never have another opportunity," I said. "Eleanor is doing a +thing I should never have expected from one of her proud and reserved +nature. The advances of such a woman--" + +He interrupted me with a groan. + +"If it wasn't for my mother I'd throw everything to the winds and fly to +her," he burst out. "But I have a mother--a sainted mother, Mr. +Westoby--her welfare must always be my first consideration!" + +"Is there no chance of anything turning up?" I said. "An appendicitis +case--an outbreak of measles? I thought there was a lot of scarlatina +just now." + +He shook his head dejectedly. + +"Doctor," I began again, "I am pretty well fixed myself. I'm blessed +with an income that runs to five figures. If all goes the way it should +we shall be brothers-in-law in six months. We are almost relations. Give +me the privilege of taking over this small obligation--" + +I never saw a man so overcome. My proposal seemed to tear the poor devil +to pieces. When he spoke his voice was trembling. + +"You don't know what it means to me to refuse," he said. "My +self-respect ... my--my...." And then he positively began to weep! + +"You said three hundred and four dollars and seventy-five cents, I +believe?" + +He waved it from him with a long, lean hand. + +"I can not do it," he said; "and, for God's sake, don't ask me to!" + +I argued with him for twenty minutes; I laid the question before him in +a million lights; I racked him with a picture of Eleanor, so deeply +hurt, so mortified, that in her recklessness and despair she would +probably throw herself away on the first man that offered! This was his +chance, I told him; the one chance of his life; he was letting a piece +of idiotic pride wreck the probable happiness of years. He agreed with +me with moans and weeps. He had the candor of a child and the torrential +sentiment of a German musician. Three hundred and four dollars and +seventy-five cents stood between him and eternal bliss, and yet he waved +my pocketbook from him! And all the while I saw myself losing Freddy. + +I went away with his "no, no, no!" still ringing in my ears. + +At the club I found a note from Freddy. She pressed me to lose no time. +Mrs. Matthewman was talking of going to Europe, and of course she and +Eleanor would have to accompany her. Eleanor, she said, had ordered two +new gowns and had brightened up wonderfully. "Only yesterday she told me +she wished that silly doctor would hurry up and come--and that, you +know, from Eleanor is almost a declaration!" + +Some of my best friends happened to be in the club. It occurred to me +that poor Nevill was diabetic, and that Charley Crossman had been boring +everybody about his gout. I buttonholed them both, and laid my +unfortunate predicament before them. I said I'd pay all the expenses. In +fact, the more they could make it cost the better I'd be pleased. + +"What," roared Nevill, "put myself in the hands of a young fool so that +he may fill his empty pockets with your money! Where do _I_ come in? +Good heavens, Westoby, you're crazy! Think what would happen to me if it +came to Doctor Saltworthy's ears? He'd never have anything more to do +with me!" + +Charley Crossman was equally rebellious and unreasonable. + +"I guess you've never had the gout," he said grimly. + +"But Charley, old man," I pleaded, "all that you'd have to do would be +to let him _talk_ to you. I don't ask you to suffer for it. Just +pay--that's all--pay my money!" + +"I'm awfully easily talked into things," said Charley. (There was never +such a mule on the Produce Exchange.) "He'd be saying, 'Take this'--and +I'm the kind of blankety-blank fool that would take it!" + +Then I did a mean thing. I reminded Crossman of having backed some bills +of his--big bills, too--at a time when it was touch and go whether he'd +manage to keep his head above water. + +"Westoby," he replied, "don't think that time has lessened my sense of +that obligation. I'd cut off my right hand to do you a good turn. But +for heaven's sake, don't ask me to monkey with my gout!" + +The best I could get out of him was the promise of an anemic +servant-girl. Nevill generously threw in a groom with varicose veins. +Small contributions, but thankfully received. + +"Now, what you do," said Nevill, "is to go round right off and interview +Bishop Jordan. He has sick people to burn!" + +But I said Jones would get on to it if I deluged him with the misery of +the slums. + +"That's just where the bishop comes in," said Nevill. "There isn't a man +more in touch with the saddest kind of poverty in New York--the decent, +clean, shrinking poverty that hides away from all the dead-head coffee +and doughnuts. If I was in your fix I'd fall over myself to reach +Jordan!" + +"Yes, you try Jordan," said Charley, who, I'm sure, had never heard of +him before. + +"Then it's me for Jordan," said I. + +I went down stairs and told one of the bell-boys to look up the address +in the telephone-book. It seemed to me he looked pale, that boy. + +"Aren't you well, Dan?" I said. + +"I don't know what's the matter with me, sir. I guess it must be the +night work." + +I gave him a five-dollar bill and made him write down 1892 Eighth Avenue +on a piece of paper. + +"You go and see Doctor Jones first thing," I said. "And don't mention my +name, nor spend the money on _Her Mad Marriage_." + +I jumped into a hansom with a pleasant sense that I was beginning to +make the fur fly. + +"That's a horrible cold of yours, Cabby," I said as we stopped at the +bishop's door and I handed him up a dollar bill. "That's just the kind +of a cold that makes graveyards hum!" + +"I can't shake it off, sir," he said despondently. "Try what I can, and +it's never no use!" + +"There's one doctor in the world who can cure anything," I said; "Doctor +Henry Jones, 1892 Eighth Avenue. I was worse than you two weeks ago, and +now look at me! Take this five dollars, and for heaven's sake, man, put +yourself in his hands quick." + +Bishop Jordan was a fine type of modern clergyman. He was +broad-shouldered mentally as well as physically, and he brought to +philanthropic work the thoroughness, care, enthusiasm and capacity that +would have earned him a fortune in business. + +"Bishop," I said, "I've come to see if I can't make a trade with you!" + +He raised his grizzled eyebrows and gave me a very searching look. + +"A trade," he repeated in a holding-back kind of tone, as though +wondering what the trap was. + +"Here's a check for one thousand dollars drawn to your order," I went +on. "And here's the address of Doctor Henry Jones, 1892 Eighth Avenue. I +want this money to reach him via your sick people, and that without my +name being known or at all suspected." + +"May I not ask the meaning of so peculiar a request?" + +"He's hard up," I said, "and I want to help him. It occurred to me that +I might make you--er--a confederate in my little game, you know." + +His eyes twinkled as he slowly folded up my check and put it in his +pocket. + +"I don't want any economy about it, Bishop," I went on. "I don't want to +make the best use of it, or anything of that kind. I want to slap it +into Doctor Jones' till, and slap it in quick." + +"Would you consider two weeks--?" + +"Oh, one, please!" + +"It is understood, of course, that this young man is a duly qualified +and capable physician, and that in the event of my finding it otherwise +I shall be at liberty to direct your check to other uses?" + +"Oh, I can answer for his being all right, Bishop. He's thoroughly +up-to-date, you know; does the X-ray act; and keeps the pace of modern +science." + +"You say you can answer for him," said the bishop genially. "Might I +inquire who _you_ are?" + +"I'm named Westoby--Ezra Westoby--managing partner of Hodge & Westoby, +boxers." + +"I like boxers," said the bishop in the tone of a benediction, rising to +dismiss me. "I like one thousand dollar checks, too. When you have any +more to spare just give them a fair wind in this direction!" + +I went out feeling that the Episcopal Church had risen fifty per cent. +in my esteem. Bishops like that would make a success of any +denomination. I like to see a fellow who's on to his job. + +I gave Jones a week to grapple with the new developments, and then +happened along. The anteroom was full, and there was a queue down the +street like a line of music-loving citizens waiting to hear Patti. +Nice, decent-looking people, with money in their hands. (I always like +to see a cash business, don't you?) I guess it took me an hour to crowd +my way up stairs, and even then I had to buy a man out of the line. + +Jones was carrying off the boom more quietly than I cared about. He wore +a curt, snappy air. I don't know why, but I felt misgivings as I shook +hands with him. + +Of course I commented on the rush. + +"The Lord only knows what's happened to my practice," he said. "The +blamed thing has gone up like a rocket. It seems to me there must be a +great wave of sickness passing over New York just now." + +"Everybody's complaining," I said. + +This reminded him of my insomnia till I cut him short. + +"What's the matter with our going down to the Van Coorts' from Saturday +to Tuesday," I said. "They haven't given up the hope of seeing you +there, Doctor, and the thing's still open." + +Then I waited for him to jump with joy. + +He didn't jump a bit. He shook his head. He distinctly said "No." + +"I told you it was the money side of it that bothered me," he explained. +"So it was at the time, for, of course, I couldn't foresee that my +practice was going to fill the street and call for policemen to keep +order. But, my dear Westoby, after giving the subject a great deal of +consideration I have come to the conclusion that it would be too painful +for me to revive those--those--unhappy emotions I was just beginning to +recover from!" + +"I thought you loved her!" I exclaimed. + +"That's why I've determined not to go," he said. "I have outlived one +refusal. How do I know I have the strength, the determination, the +hardihood to undergo the agonies of another?" + +It seemed a feeble remark to say that faint heart never won fair lady. I +growled it out more like a swear than anything else. I was disgusted +with the chump. + +"She's the star above me," he said; "and I am crushed by my own +presumption. Is there any such fool as the man that breaks his heart +twice for the impossible?" + +"But it isn't impossible," I cried. "Hasn't she--as far as a woman +can--hasn't she called you back to her? What more do you expect her to +do? A woman's delicacy forbids her screaming for a man! I think Eleanor +has already gone a tremendous way in just hinting--" + +"You may be right," he said pathetically; "but then you may also be +wrong. The risk is too terrible for me to run. It will comfort me all my +life to think that perhaps she does love me in secret!" + +"Do you mean to say you're going to give it all up?" I roared. + +"You needn't get so warm about it," he returned. "After all, I have some +justification in thinking she doesn't care." + +"What on earth do you suppose she invited you for, then?" + +"Well, it would be different," he said, "if I had a note from her--a +flower--some little tender reminder of those dear old dead days in the +Pullman!" + +"She's saving up all that for Morristown," I said. + +For the first time in our acquaintance Doctor Jones looked at me with +suspicion. His blue eyes clouded. He was growing a little restive under +my handling. + +"You seem to make the matter a very personal one," he observed. + +"Well, I love Freddy," I explained. "It naturally brings your own case +very close to me. And then I am so positive that you love Eleanor and +that Eleanor loves you. Put yourself in my place, Doctor! Do you mean +that you'd do nothing to bring two such noble hearts together?" + +He seized my hand and wrung it effusively. He really _did_ love Eleanor, +you know. The only fault with him was his being so darned humble about +it. He was eaten up with a sense of his own inferiority. And yet I could +see he was just tingling to go to Morristown. Of course, I crowded him +all I could, but the best I could accomplish was his promise to "think +it over." I hated to leave him wabbling, but patients were scuffling at +the door and fighting on the stairs. + +The next thing I did was to get Freddy on the long-distance 'phone. + +"Freddy," I said, after explaining the situation, "you must get Eleanor +to telegraph to him direct!" + +"What's the good of asking what she won't do?" bubbled the sweet little +voice. + +"Can't you persuade her?" + +"I know she won't do it!" + +"Then you must forge it," I said desperately. "It needn't be anything +red-hot, you know. But something tender and sincere: 'Shall be awfully +disappointed if you don't come,' or, 'There was a time when you would +not have failed me!'" + +"It's impossible." + +"Then he won't budge a single inch!" I replied. + +"Ezra?" + +"Darling!" + +"Suppose I just signed the telegram Van Coort?" + +"The very thing!" + +"If he misunderstood it--I mean if he thought it really came from +Eleanor--there couldn't be any fuss about it afterward, could there?" + +"And, of course, you'll send the official invitation from Mrs. +Matthewman besides?" + +"For Saturday?" + +"Yes, Saturday!" + +"And _you'll_ come?" + +"Just watch me!" + +"Ezra, are you happy?" + +"That depends on Jones." + +"Oh, isn't it exciting?" + +"I have the ring in my pocket--" + +"But touch wood, won't you?" + +"Freddy?" + +"Yes--" + +"What's the matter with getting some forget-me-nots and mailing them to +Jones in an envelope?" + +"All right, I'll attend to it. Eighteen ninety-two Eighth Avenue, isn't +it?" + +"Be sure it _is_ forget-me-nots, you know. Don't mix up the language of +flowers, and send him one that says: 'I'm off with a handsomer man,' or, +'You needn't come round any more!'" + +"Oh, Ezra, Eleanor is really getting quite worked up!" + +"So am I!" + +"Wouldn't it be perfectly splendid if--Switch off quick, here's aunt +coming!" + +"Mayn't I even say I love you?" + +"I daren't say it back, Ezra--she's calling." + +"But _do_ you?" + +"Yes, unfortunately--" + +"Why unfortun--?" + +Buzz-buzz-swizzleum-bux-bux!--Aunt had cut us off. However, short as my +talk with Freddy had been, it brightened my whole day. + +Late the same afternoon I went back to Doctor Jones. I was prepared to +find him uplifted, but I hadn't counted on his being maudlin. The fellow +was drunk, positively drunk--with happiness. His tongue ran on like a +mill-stream. I had to sit down and have the whole Pullman-car episode +inflicted on me a second time. I was shown the receipt-slip. I was shown +the telegram from Eleanor. I was shown with a whoop the forget-me-nots! +Then he was going on Saturday? I asked. He said he guessed it would take +an earthquake to keep him away, and a pretty big earthquake, too!... Oh, +it was a great moment, and all the greater because I was tremendously +worked up, too. I saw Freddy floating before me, my sweet, girlish, +darling Freddy, holding out her arms ... while Jones gassed and gassed +and gassed.... + +I left him taking phenacetin for his headache. + + +III + +The house-party had grown a little larger than was originally intended. +On Saturday night we sat down twelve to dinner. Doctor Jones and I +shared a room together, and I must say whatever misgivings I might have +had about him wore away very quickly on closer acquaintance. In the +first place he looked well in evening dress, carrying himself with a +sort of shy, kind air that became him immensely. At table he developed +the greatest of conversational gifts--that of the appreciative and +intelligent listener. I heard one of the guests asking Eleanor who was +that charming young man. Freddy and I hugged each other (I mean +metaphorically, of course) and gloried in his success. In the presence +of an admirer (such is the mystery of women) Eleanor instantly got +fifteen points better looking, and you wouldn't have known her for the +same girl. Freddy thought it was the two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar gown +she wore, but I could see it was deeper than that. She was thawing in +the sunshine of love, and I'll do Doctor Jones the justice to say that +he didn't hide his affection under a bushel. It was generous enough for +everybody to bask in, and in his pell-mell ardor he took us all to his +bosom. The women loved him for it, and entered into a tacit conspiracy +to gain him the right-of-way to wherever Eleanor was to be found. In +fact, he followed her about like a dog, and she could scarcely move +without stepping on him. + +Sunday was even better. One of the housemaids drank some wood-alcohol by +mistake for vichy water, and the resulting uproar redounded to Jones' +coolness, skill and despatch. He dominated the situation and--well, I +won't describe it, this not being a medical work, and the reader +probably being a good guesser. Mrs. Matthewman remarked significantly +that it must be nice to be the wife of a medical man--one would always +have the safe feeling of a doctor at hand in case anything happened at +night! Eleanor said it was a beautiful profession that had for its +object the alleviation of human pain. Freddy jealously tried to get in a +good word for boxers, but nobody would listen to her except me. It was +all Jones, Jones, Jones, and the triumphs of modern medicine. Altogether +he sailed through that whole day with flying colors, first with the +housemaid, and then afterward at church, where he was the only one that +knew what Sunday after Epiphany it was. He made it plainer than ever +that he was a model young man and a pattern. Mrs. Matthewman compared +him to her departed husband, and talked about old-fashioned courtesy and +the splendid men of her youth. Everybody fell over everybody else to +praise him. It was a regular Jones boom. People began to write down his +address, and ask him if he'd be free Thursday, or what about Friday, and +started to book seats in advance. + +That evening, as I was washing my hands before dinner and cheerfully +whistling _Hiawatha_, I became conscious that Jones was lolling back on +a sofa at the dark end of the room. What particularly arrested my +attention was a groan--preceded by a pack of heartrending sighs. It +worried me--when everything seemed to be going so well. He had every +right to be whistling _Hiawatha_, too. + +"What's the matter, Jones?" said I. + +He keeled over on the sofa, and groaned louder than ever. + +"It isn't possible--that she's refused you?" I exclaimed. He muttered +something about his mother. + +"Well, what about your mother?" I said. + +"Westoby," he returned, "I guess I was the worst kind of fool ever to +put my foot into this house." + +That was nice news, wasn't it? Just as I was settling in my head to buy +that Seventy-second Street place, and alter the basement into a garage! + +"You see, old man, my mother would never consent to my marrying Eleanor. +I'm in the position of having to choose between her and the woman I +love. And I owe so much to my mother, Westoby. She stinted herself for +years to get me through college; she hardly had enough to eat; she...." +Then he groaned a lot more. + +"I can't think that your mother--a mother like yours, Jones--would +consent to stand between you and your lifelong happiness. It's +morbid--that's what I call it--morbid, just to dream of such a thing." + +"There's Bertha," he quavered. + +"Great Scott, and who's Bertha?" + +"The girl my mother chose for me two years ago--Bertha McNutt, you know. +She'd really prefer me not to marry at all, but if I must--it's Bertha, +Westoby--Bertha or nothing!" + +"It's too late to say that now, old fellow." + +"It's not too late for me to go home this very night." + +"Well, Jones," I broke out, "I can't think you'd do such a caddish thing +as that. Think it over for a minute. You come down here; you sweep that +unfortunate girl off her feet; you make love to her with the fury of a +stage villain; you force her to betray her very evident partiality for +you--and then you have the effrontery to say: 'Good-by. I'm off.'" + +"My mother--" he began. + +"You simply can not act so dishonorably, Jones." + +He sat silent for a little while. + +"My mother--" he started in again finally. + +"Surely your mother loves you?" I demanded. + +"That's the terrible part of it, Westoby, she--" + +"Pooh!" + +"She stinted herself to get me through col--" + +"Then why did you ever come here?" + +"That's just the question I'm asking myself now." + +"I don't see that you have any right to assume all that about your mother, +anyway. Eleanor Van Coort is a woman of a thousand--unimpeachable social +position--a little fortune of her own--accomplished, handsome, charming, +sought after--why, if you managed to win such a girl as that your mother +would walk on air." + +"No, she wouldn't. Bertha--" + +"You're a pretty cheap lover," I said. "I don't set up to be a little +tin hero, but I'd go through fire and water for _my_ girl. Good heavens, +love is love, and all the mothers--" + +He let out a few more groans. + +"Then, see here, Jones," I went on, "you owe some courtesy to our +hostess. If you went away to-night it would be an insult. Whatever you +decide to do later, you've simply got to stay here till Tuesday +morning!" + +"Must I?" he said, in the tone of a person who is ordered not to leave +the sinking ship. + +"A gentleman has to," I said. + +He quavered out a sort of acquiescence, and then asked me for the loan +of a white tie. I should have loved to give him a bowstring instead, +with somebody who knew how to operate it. He was a fluff, that fellow--a +tarnation fluff! + + +IV + +It was a pretty glum evening all round. Most of them thought that Jones +had got the chilly mitt. Eleanor looked pale and undecided, not knowing +what to make of Jones' death's-head face. She was resentful and pitying +in turns, and I saw all the material lying around for a first-class +conflagration. Freddy was a bit down on me, too, saying that a smoother +method would have ironed out Jones, and that I had been headlong and +silly. She cried over it, and wouldn't kiss me in the dark; and I was +goaded into saying--well, the course of true love ran in bumps that +night. There was only one redeeming circumstance, and that was my +managing to keep Jones and Eleanor apart. I mean that I insisted on +being number three till at last poor Eleanor said she had a headache, +and forlornly went up to bed. + +Jones was still asleep when I got up the next morning at six and dressed +myself quietly so as not to awake him. It was now Monday, and you can +see for yourself there was no time to spare. I gave the butler a dollar, +and ordered him to say that unexpected business had called me away +without warning, but that I should be back by luncheon. I rather overdid +the earliness of it all. At least, I hove off 1892 Eighth Avenue at +eight-fifteen A.M. I loitered about; looked at pawnshop windows; gave a +careful examination to a forty-eight-dollar-ninety-eight-cent complete +outfit for a four-room flat; had a chat with a policeman; assisted at a +runaway; advanced a nickel to a colored gentleman in distress; had my +shoes shined by another; helped a child catch an escaped parrot--and +still it wasn't nine! Idleness is a grinding occupation, especially on +Eighth Avenue in the morning. + +Mrs. Jones was a thin, straight-backed, brisk old lady, with a keen +tongue, and a Yankee faculty for coming to the point. I besought her +indulgence, and laid the whole Eleanor matter before her--at least, as +much of it as seemed wise. I appeared in the role of her son's warmest +admirer and best friend. + +"Surely you won't let Harry ruin his life from a mistaken sense of his +duty to you?" + +"Duty, fiddlesticks!" said she. "He's going to marry Bertha McNutt!" + +"But he doesn't want to marry Bertha McNutt!" + +"Then he needn't marry anybody." + +She seemed to think this a triumphant answer. Indeed, in some ways I +must confess it was. But still I persevered. + +"It puts me out to have him shilly-shallying around like this," she +said. "I'll give him a good talking to when he gets back. This other +arrangement has been understood between Mrs. McNutt and myself for +years." + +She was an irritating person. I found it not a little difficult to keep +my temper with her. It's easier to fight dragons than to temporize with +them and appeal to their better nature. I appealed and appealed. She +watched me with the same air of interested detachment that one gives to +a squirrel revolving in a cage. I could feel that she was flattered; her +sense of power was agreeably tickled; my earnestness and despair +enhanced the zest of her reiterated refusals. I was a very nice young +man, but her son was going to marry Bertha McNutt or marry nobody! + +Then I tried to draw a lurid picture of his revolt from her +apron-strings. + +"Oh, Harry's a good boy," she said. "You can't make me believe that two +days has altered his whole character. I'll answer for his doing what I +want." + +I felt a precisely similar conviction, and my heart sank into my shoes. + +At this moment there was a tap at the door, and another old lady bounced +in. She was stout, jolly-looking and effusive. The greetings between the +pair were warm, and they were evidently old friends. But underneath the +new-comer's gush and noise I was dimly conscious of a sort of gay +hostility. She was exultant and frightened, both at once, and her eyes +were sparkling. + +"Well, what do you think?" she cried out explosively. + +Mrs. Jones' lips tightened. There was a mean streak in that old woman. I +could see she was feeling for her little hatchet, and was getting out +her little gun. + +"Bertha!" exploded the old lady. "Bertha--" + +(Mysterious mental processes at once informed me that this was none +other than Bertha's mother.) + +Mrs. Jones was coolly taking aim. I was reminded of that old military +dictum: "Don't shoot till you see the whites of their eyes!" + +"Bertha," vociferated the old lady fiercely--"Bertha has been secretly +married to Mr. Stuffenhammer for the last three months!" + +Another series of kinematographic mental processes informed me that Mr. +Stuffenhammer was an immense catch. + +"Twenty thousand dollars a year, and her own carriage," continued Mrs. +McNutt gloatingly. "You could have knocked me down with a feather. +Bertha is such a considerate child; she insisted on marrying secretly so +that she could tone it down by degrees to poor Harry; though there was +no engagement or anything like that, she could not help feeling, of +course, that she owed it to the dear boy to gradually--" + +Mrs. Jones never turned a hair or moved a muscle. + +"You needn't pity Harry," she said. "I've just got the good news that +he's engaged to one of the sweetest and richest girls in Morristown." + +I jumped for my hat and ran. + + +V + +You never saw anybody so electrified as Jones. For a good minute he +couldn't even speak. It was like bringing a horseback reprieve to the +hero on the stage. He repeated "Stuffenhammer, Stuffenhammer," in tones +that Henry Irving might have envied, while I gently undid the noose +around his neck. I led him under a tree and told him to buck up. He did +so--slowly and surely--and then began to ask me agitated questions about +proposing. He deferred to me as though I had spent my whole life +Bluebearding through the social system. He wanted to be coached how to +do it, you know. I told him to rip out the words--any old words--and +then kiss her. + +"Don't let there be any embarrassing pause," I said. "A girl hates +pauses." + +"It seems a great liberty," he returned. "It doesn't strike me as +r-r-respectful." + +"You try it," I said. "It's the only way." + +"I'll be glad when it's over," he remarked dreamily. + +"Whatever you do, keep clear of set speeches," I went on. "Blurt it out, +no matter how badly--but with all the fire and ginger in you." + +He gazed at me like a dead calf. + +"Here goes," he said, and started on a trembling walk toward the house. + +I don't know whether he was afraid, or didn't get the chance, or what +it was; but at any rate the afternoon wore on without the least sign +of his coming to time. I kept tab on him as well as I could--checkers +with Miss Drayton--half an hour writing letters--a long talk with the +major--and finally his getting lost altogether in the shrubbery with +an old lady. Freddy said the suspense was killing her, and was terribly +despondent and miserable. I couldn't interest her in the Seventy-second +Street house at all. She asked what was the good of working and +worrying, and figuring and making lists--when in all probability it +would be another girl that would live there. She had an awfully mean +opinion of my constancy, and was intolerably philosophical and +Oh-I-wouldn't-blame-you-the-least-little-bit-if-you-did-go-off-and-marry-somebody-else! +She took a pathetic pleasure in loving me, losing me, and then weeping +over the dear dead memory. She said nobody ever got what they wanted, +anyway; and might she come, when she was old and ugly and faded and +weary, to take care of my children and be a sort of dear old aunty in +the Seventy-second Street house. I said certainly not, and we had a +fight right away. + +As we were dressing for dinner that night I took Jones to task, and +tried to stiffen him up. I guess I must have mismanaged it somehow, for +he said he'd thank me to keep my paws out of his affairs, and then went +into the bath-room, where he shaved and growled for ten whole minutes. I +itched to throw a bootjack at him, but compromised on doing a little +growling myself. Afterward we got into our clothes in silence, and as he +went out first he slammed the door. + +It was a disheartening evening. We played progressive uchre for a silly +prize, and we all got shuffled up wrong and had to stay so. Then the +major did amateur conjuring till we nearly died. I was thankful to sneak +out-of-doors and smoke a cigar under the starlight. I walked up and +down, consigning Jones to--well, where I thought he belonged. I thought +of the time I had wasted over the fellow--the good money--the hopes--I +was savage with disappointment, and when I heard Freddy softly calling +me from the veranda I zigzagged away through the trees toward the lodge +gate. There are moments when a man is better left alone. Besides, I was +in one of those self-tormenting humors when it is a positive pleasure to +pile on the agony. When you're eighty-eight per cent. miserable it's +hell not to reach par. I was sore all over, and I wanted the balm--the +consolation--to be found in the company of those cold old stars, who had +looked down in their time on such countless generations of human asses. +It gave me a wonderful sense of fellowship with the past and future. + +I was reflecting on what an infinitesimal speck I was in the general +scheme of things, when I heard the footfall of another human speck, +stumbling through the dark and carrying a dress-suit case. It was Jones +himself, outward bound, and doing five knots an hour. I was after him in +a second, doing six. + +"Jones!" I cried. + +He never even turned round. + +I grabbed him by the arm. He wasn't going to walk away from me like +that. + +"Where are you going?" I demanded. + +"Home!" + +"But say, stop; you can't do that. It's too darned rude. We don't break +up till to-morrow." + +"I'm breaking up now," he said. + +"But--" + +"Let go my arm--!" + +"Oh, but, my dear chap--" I began. + +"Don't you dear chap me!" + +We strode on in silence. Even his back looked sullen, and his face under +the gaslights-- + +"Westoby," he broke out suddenly, "if there's one thing I'm sensitive +about it is my name. Slap me in the face, turn the hose on me, rip the +coat off my back--and you'd be astounded by my mildness. But when it +comes to my name I--I'm a tiger!" + +"A tiger," I repeated encouragingly. + +"It all went swimmingly," he continued in a tone of angry confidence. +"For five seconds I was the happiest man in the United States. I--I did +everything you said, you know, and I was dumfounded at my own success. +S-s-she loves me, Westoby." + +I gazed inquiringly at the dress-suit case. + +"We don't belong to any common Joneses. We're Connecticut Joneses. In +fact, we're the only Joneses--and the name is as dear to me, as sacred, +as I suppose that of Westoby is, perhaps, to you. And yet--and yet--do +you know what she actually said to me? Said to me, holding my hand, and, +and--that the only thing she didn't like about me was my _name_." + +I contrived to get out, "Good heavens!" with the proper astonishment. + +"I told her that Van Coort didn't strike me as being anything very +extra." + +"Wouldn't it have been wiser to--?" + +"Oh, for myself, I'd do anything in the world for her. But a fellow has +to show a little decent pride. A fellow owes something to his family, +doesn't he? As a man I love the ground she walks on; as a Jones--well, +if she feels like that about it--I told her she had better wait for a De +Montmorency." + +"But she didn't say she wouldn't marry you, did she?" + +"N-o-o-o!" + +"She didn't ask you to _change_ your name, did she?" + +"N-o-o-o!" + +"And do you mean to say that just for one unfortunate remark--a remark +that any one might have made in the agitation of the moment--you're +deliberately turning your back on her, and her broken heart!" + +"Oh, she's red-hot, too, you know, over what I said about the Van +Coorts." + +"She couldn't have realized that you belonged to the Connecticut +Joneses. _I_ didn't know it. _I_--" + +"Well, it's all off now," he said. + +It was a mile to the depot. For Jones it was a mile of reproaches, +scoldings, lectures and insults. For myself I shall ever remember it as +the mile of my life. I pleaded, argued, extenuated and explained. My +lifelong happiness--Freddy--the Seventy-second Street house--were +walking away from me in the dark while I jerked unavailingly at Jones' +coat-tails. The whole outfit disappeared into a car, leaving me on the +platform with the ashes of my hopes. Of all obstinate, mulish, +pig-headed, copper-riveted-- + +I was lucky enough to find Eleanor crying softly to herself in a corner +of the veranda. The sight of her tears revived my fainting courage. I +thought of Bruce and the spider, and waded in. + +"Eleanor," I said, "I've just been seeing poor Jones off." + +She sobbed out something to the effect that she didn't care. + +"No, you can't care very much," I said, "or you wouldn't send a man like +that--a splendid fellow--a member of one of the oldest and proudest +families of Connecticut--to his death." + +"Death?" + +"Well, he's off for Japan to-morrow. They're getting through fifty +doctors a week out there at the front. They're shot down faster than +they can set them up." + +I was unprepared for the effect of this on Eleanor. For two cents she +would have fainted then and there. It's awful to hear a woman moan, and +clench her teeth, and pant for breath. + +"Oh, Eleanor, can't you do anything?" + +"I am helpless, Ezra. My pride--my woman's pride--" + +"Oh, how can you let such trifles stand between you? Think of him out +there, in his tattered Japanese uniform--so far from home, so lonely, so +heartbroken--standing undaunted in that rain of steel, while--" + +"Oh, Ezra, stop! I can't bear it! I can't bear it!" + +"Is the love of three years to be thrown aside like an old glove, just +because--" + +Her face was so wild and strained that the lies froze upon my tongue. + +"Oh, Ezra, I could follow him barefooted through the snow if only he--" + +"He's leaving Grand Central to-morrow at ten forty-five," I said. + +She fumbled at her neck, and almost tore away the diamond locket that +reposed there. + +"Take him this," she whispered hoarsely. "Take it to him at once, and +say I sent it. Say that I beg him to return--that my pride crumbles at +the thought of his going away so far into danger." + +I put the locket carefully into my pocket. + +"And, Eleanor, try and don't rub him the wrong way about his name. Is it +worth while? There have to be Joneses, you know." + +"Tell him," she burst out, "tell him--oh, I never meant to wound +him--truly, I didn't ... a name that's good enough for him is good +enough for me!" + +The next morning at nine I pulled up my Porcher-Mufflin car before +Jones' door. He was sitting at his table reading a book, and he made no +motion to rise as I came in. He gave me a pale, expressionless stare +instead, such as an ancient Christian might have worn when the call-boy +told him the lions were ready in the Colosseum. Resignation, obstinacy +and defiance--all nicely blended under a turn-the-other-cheek exterior. +He looked woebegone, and his thin, handsome face betrayed a sleepless +night and a breakfastless morning. I could feel that my presence was the +last straw to this unfortunate medical camel. + +I threw in a genial remark about the weather, and took a seat. + +Jones hunched himself together, and squirmed a sad little squirm. + +"Mr. Westoby," he said, "I once made use of a very strong expression in +regard to you. I said, if you remember, that I'd be obliged if you'd +keep your paws--" + +"Don't apologize," I interrupted. "I forgot it long ago." + +"You've taken me up wrong," he continued drearily. "I should like you to +consider the remark repeated now. Yes, sir, repeated." + +"Oh, bosh!" I exclaimed. + +"You have a very tough epidermis," he went on. "Quite the toughest +epidermis I have met with in my whole professional career. A paper +adequately treating your epidermis would make a sensation before any +medical society." + +Somehow I couldn't feel properly insulted. The whole business struck me +as irresistibly comical. I lay back in my chair--my uninvited chair--and +roared with laughter. + +I couldn't forbear asking him what treatment he'd recommend. + +He pointed to the door, and said laconically: "Fresh air." + +I retorted by laying the diamond locket before him. + +"My dear fellow," I said, as he gazed at it transfixed, "don't let us go +on like a pair of fools. Eleanor charged me to give you this, and beg +you to return." + +I don't believe he heard me at all. That flashing trinket was far more +eloquent than any words of mine. He laid his head in his hands beside +it, and his whole body trembled with emotion. He trembled and trembled, +till finally I got tired of waiting. I poked him in the back, and +reminded him that my car was waiting down stairs. He rose with a +strange, bewildered air, and submitted like a child to be led into the +street. He had the locket clenched in his hand, and every now and then +he would glance at it as though unable to believe his eyes. I shut him +into the tonneau, and took a seat beside my chauffeur. + +"Let her out, James," I said. + +James let her out with a vengeance. There was a sunny-haired housemaid +at the Van Coorts' ... and it was a crack, new, four-cylinder car with a +direct drive on the top speed. Off we went like the wind, jouncing poor +Jones around the tonneau like a pea in a pill-box. But he didn't care. +Was he not seraphically whizzing through space, obeying the diamond +telegram of love? In the gentle whizzle and bang of the whole +performance he even ventured to raise his voice in song, and I could +overhear him behind me, adding a lyrical finish to the hum of the +machinery. It was a walloping run, and we only throttled down on the +outskirts of Morristown. You see I had to coach him about that Japanese +war business, or else there might be trouble! So I leaned over the back +seat and gently broke it to him. I thought I had managed it rather well. +I felt sure he could understand, I said, the absolute need of a +little--embellishing and-- + +"Let me out," he said. + +I feverishly went on explaining. + +"If you don't let me out I'll climb out," he said, and began to make as +good as his word over the tonneau. + +Of course, there was nothing for it but to stop the car. + +Jones deliberately descended and headed for New York. + +I ran after him, while the chauffeur turned the car round and slowly +followed us both. It was a queer procession. First Jones, then I, then +the car. + +Finally I overtook him. + +"Jones," I panted. "Jones." + +He muttered something about Ananias, and speeded up. + +"But it was an awfully tight place," I pleaded. "Something had to be +done; you must make allowances; it was the first thing that came into +my head--and you must admit that it worked, Jones. Didn't she send you +the locket? Didn't she--?" + +"What a prancing, show-off, matinee fool you've made me look!" he burst +out. "I have an old mother to support. I have an increasing practice. I +have already attracted some little attention in my chosen field--eye, +ear and throat. A nice figure I'd cut, traipsing around the battlefields +in a kimono, and looking for a kindly bullet to lay me low. If I were +ever tempted by such a thing--which God forbid--wouldn't I prefer to +spread bacilli on buttered toast?" + +"I never thought of that," I said humbly. + +"I have known retail liars," he went on. "But I guess you are the only +wholesaler in the business. When other people are content with ones and +twos, you get them out in grosses, packed for export!" + +He went on slamming me like this for miles. Anybody else would have +given him up as hopeless. I don't want to praise myself, but if I have +one good quality it's staying power. I pleaded and argued, and +expostulated and explained, with the determination of a man whose back +is to the wall. I wasn't going to lose Freddy so long as there was +breath in my body. However, it wasn't the least good in the world. Jones +was as impervious as sole-leather, and as unshaken as a marble pillar. + +Then I played my last card. + +I told him the truth! Not the _whole_ truth, of course, but within ten +per cent. of it. About Freddy, you know, and how she was determined not +to marry before her elder sister, and how Eleanor's only preference +seemed to be for him, and how with such a slender clue to work on I had +engineered everything up to this point. + +"If I have seemed to you intolerably prying and officious," I said, +"well, at any rate, Jones, there's my excuse. It rests with you to give +me Freddy or take her from me. Turn back, and you'll make me the +happiest man alive; go forward, and--and--" + +I watched him out of the corner of my eye. + +His tread lost some of its elasticity. He was short-circuiting inside. +Positively he began to look sort of sympathetic and human. + +"Westoby," he said at last, in a voice almost of awe, "when they get up +another world's fair you must have a building to yourself. You're +colossal, that's what you are!" + +"I'm only in love," I said. + +"Well, that's the love that moves mountains," he said. "If anybody had +told me that I should...." He stopped irresolutely on the word. + +"Oh, to think I have to stand for all that rot!" he bleated. + +I was too wise to say a word. I simply motioned James to switch the car +around and back up. I shooed Jones into the tonneau and turned the knob +on him. He snuggled back in the cushions, and smiled--yes smiled--with a +beautiful, blue-eyed, far-away, indulgent expression that warmed me like +spring sunshine. Not that I felt absolutely safe even yet--of course I +couldn't--but still-- + +We ran into Freddy and Eleanor at the lodge gates. I had already +telephoned the former to expect us, so as to have everything fall out +naturally when the time came. We stopped the car, and descended--Jones +and I--and he walked straight off with Eleanor, while I side-stepped +with Freddy. + +She and I were almost too excited to talk. It was now or never, you +know, and there was an awfully solemn look about both their backs that +was either reassuring or alarming--we couldn't decide quite which. +Freddy and I simply held our breath and waited. + +Finally, after an age, Jones and Eleanor turned, still close in talk, +still solemn and enigmatical, and drew toward us very slowly and +deliberately. When they had got quite close, and the tension was at the +breaking point, Eleanor suddenly made a little rush, and, with a loud +sob, threw her arms round Freddy's neck. + +Jones fidgeted nervously about, and seemed to quail under my questioning +eyes. It was impossible to tell whether things had gone right or not. I +waited for him to speak.... I saw words forming themselves hesitatingly +on his lips ... he bent toward me quite confidentially.... + +"Say, old man," he whispered, "is there any place around here where a +fellow can buy an engagement ring?" + + + + +THE BEAR STORY + +THAT ALEX "IST MAKED UP HIS-OWN-SE'F" + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + + W'y, wunst they wuz a Little Boy went out + In the woods to shoot a Bear. So, he went out + 'Way in the grea'-big woods--he did.--An' he + Wuz goin' along--an' goin' along, you know, + An' purty soon he heerd somepin' go "_Wooh_!"-- + Ist thataway--"_Woo-ooh!_" An' he wuz _skeered_, + He wuz. An' so he runned an' clumbed a tree-- + A grea'-big tree, he did,--a _sicka-more_ tree. + An' nen he heerd it ag'in: an' he looked round, + An' _'t'uz a Bear_!--_a grea'-big shore-nuff Bear!_-- + No: 't'uz _two_ Bears, it wuz--two grea'-big Bears-- + _One_ of 'em wuz--ist _one's_ a _grea'-big_ Bear.-- + But they ist _boff_ went "_Wooh_!"--An' here _they_ come + To climb the tree an' git the Little Boy + An' eat him up! + + An' nen the Little Boy + He 'uz skeered worse'n ever! An' here come + The grea'-big Bear a-climbin' th' tree to git + The Little Boy an' eat him up--Oh, _no_!-- + It 'uzn't the _Big_ Bear 'at dumb the tree-- + It 'uz the _Little_ Bear. So here _he_ come + Climbin' the tree--an' climbin' the tree! Nen when + He git wite _clos't_ to the Little Boy, w'y nen + The Little Boy he ist pulled up his gun + An' _shot_ the Bear, he did, an' killed him dead! + An' nen the Bear he falled clean on down out + The tree--away clean to the ground, he did-- + _Spling-splung!_ he falled _plum_ down, an' killed him, too! + An' lit wite side o' where the _Big_ Bear's at. + + An' nen the Big Bear's awful mad, you bet!-- + 'Cause--'cause the Little Boy he shot his gun + An' killed the _Little_ Bear.--'Cause the _Big_ Bear + He--he 'uz the Little Bear's Papa.--An' so here + _He_ come to climb the big old tree an' git + The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' when + The Little Boy he saw the _grea'-big Bear_ + A-comin', he 'uz badder skeered, he wuz, + Than _any_ time! An' so he think he'll climb + Up _higher_--'way up higher in the tree + Than the old _Bear_ kin climb, you know.--But he-- + He _can't_ climb higher 'an old _Bears_ kin climb,-- + 'Cause Bears kin climb up higher in the trees + Than any little Boys in all the Wo-r-r-ld! + + An' so here come the grea'-big Bear, he did,-- + A-climbin' up--an' up the tree, to git + The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' so + The Little Boy he clumbed on higher, an' higher, + An' higher up the tree--an' higher--an' higher-- + An' higher'n iss-here _house_ is!--An' here come + Th' old Bear--clos'ter to him all the time!-- + An' nen--first thing you know,--when th' old Big Bear + Wuz wite clos't to him--nen the Little Boy + Ist jabbed his gun wite in the old Bear's mouf + An' shot an' killed him dead!--No; I _fergot_,-- + He didn't shoot the grea'-big Bear at all-- + 'Cause _they 'uz no load in the gun_, you know-- + 'Cause when he shot the _Little_ Bear, w'y, nen + No load 'uz any more nen _in_ the gun! + + But th' Little Boy clumbed _higher_ up, he did-- + He clumbed _lots_ higher--an' on up _higher_--an' higher + An' _higher_--tel he ist _can't_ climb no higher, + 'Cause nen the limbs 'uz all so little, 'way + Up in the teeny-weeny tip-top of + The tree, they'd break down wiv him ef he don't + Be keerful! So he stop an' think: An' nen + He look around--An' here come th' old Bear! + + An' so the Little Boy make up his mind + He's got to ist git out o' there _some_ way!-- + 'Cause here come the old Bear!--so clos't, his bref's + Purt 'nigh so's he kin feel how hot it is + Ag'inst his bare feet--ist like old "Ring's" bref + When he's ben out a-huntin' an's all tired. + So when th' old Bear's so clos't--the Little Boy + Ist gives a grea'-big jump fer _'nother_ tree-- + No!--no he don't do that!--I tell you what + The Little Boy does:--W'y, nen--w'y, he--Oh, _yes_-- + The Little Boy _he finds a hole up there + 'At's in the tree_--an' climbs in there an' _hides_-- + An' _nen_ th' old Bear can't find the Little Boy + At all!--But, purty soon th' old Bear finds + The Little Boy's _gun_ 'at's up there--'cause the _gun_ + It's too _tall_ to tooked wiv him in the hole. + So, when the old Bear find' the _gun_, he knows + The Little Boy's ist _hid_ 'round _somers_ there,-- + An' th' old Bear 'gins to snuff an' sniff around, + An' sniff an' snuff around--so's he kin find + Out where the Little Boy's hid at.--An' nen--nen-- + Oh, _yes_!--W'y, purty soon the old Bear climbs + 'Way out on a big limb--a grea'-long limb,-- + An' nen the Little Boy climbs out the hole + An' takes his ax an' chops the limb off!... Nen + The old Bear falls _k-splunge_! clean to the ground + An' bust an' kill hisse'f plum dead, he did! + + An' nen the Little Boy he git his gun + An' 'menced a-climbin' down the tree ag'in-- + No!--no, he _didn't_ git his _gun_--'cause when + The _Bear_ falled, nen the _gun_ falled, too--An' broked + It all to pieces, too!--An' _nicest_ gun!-- + His Pa ist buyed it!--An' the Little Boy + Ist cried, he did; an' went on climbin' down + The tree--an' climbin' down--an' climbin' down!-- + _An'-sir_! when he 'uz purt'-nigh down,--w'y, nen + _The old Bear he jumped up ag'in_!--an' he + Ain't dead at all--ist '_tendin_' thataway, + So he kin git the Little Boy an' eat + Him up! But the Little Boy he 'uz too smart + To climb clean _down_ the tree.--An' the old Bear + He can't climb _up_ the tree no more--'cause when + He fell, he broke one of his--he broke _all_ + His legs!--an' nen he _couldn't_ climb! But he + Ist won't go 'way an' let the Little Boy + Come down out of the tree. An' the old Bear + Ist growls 'round there, he does--ist growls an' goes + "_Wooh!--woo-ooh!_" all the time! An' Little Boy + He haf to stay up in the tree--all night-- + An' 'thout no _supper_ neether!--On'y they + Wuz _apples_ on the tree!--An' Little Boy + Et apples--ist all night--an' cried--an' cried! + Nen when 't'uz morning th' old Bear went "_Wooh_!" + Ag'in, an' try to climb up in the tree + An' git the Little Boy.--But he _can't_ + Climb t'save his _soul_, he can't!--An' _oh_! he's _mad_!-- + He ist tear up the ground! an' go "_Woo-ooh_!" + An'--_Oh, yes!_--purty soon, when morning's come + All _light_--so's you kin _see_, you know,--w'y, nen + The old Bear finds the Little Boy's _gun_, you know, + 'At's on the ground.--(An' it ain't broke at all-- + I ist _said_ that!) An' so the old Bear think + He'll take the gun an' _shoot_ the Little Boy:-- + But _Bears they_ don't know much 'bout shootin' guns: + So when he go to shoot the Little Boy, + The old Bear got the _other_ end the gun + Ag'in' his shoulder, 'stid o' _th'other_ end-- + So when he try to shoot the Little Boy, + It shot _the Bear_, it did--an' killed him dead! + An' nen the Little Boy clumb down the tree + An' chopped his old woolly head off:--Yes, an' killed + The _other_ Bear ag'in, he did--an' killed + All _boff_ the bears, he did--an' tuk 'em home + An' _cooked_'em, too, an' _et_'em! + --An' that's all. + + + + +COLONEL CARTER'S STORY OF THE POSTMASTER + +BY F. HOPKINSON SMITH + + +"Take, for instance, the town of Caartersville: look at that peaceful +village which for mo' than a hundred years has enjoyed the privileges of +free government; and not only Caartersville, but all our section of the +State." + +"Well, what's the matter with Cartersville?" asked Fitz, lighting his +cigar. + +"Mattah, suh! Just look at the degradation it fell into hardly ten years +ago. A Yankee jedge jurisdiction our laws, a Yankee sheriff enfo'cin' +'em, and a Yankee postmaster distributin' letters and sellin' postage +stamps." + +"But they were elected all right, Colonel, and represented the will of +the people." + +"What people? Yo' people, not mine. No, my dear Fitz; the Administration +succeeding the war treated us shamefully, and will go down to postehity +as infamous." + +The colonel here left his chair and began pacing the floor, his +indignation rising at every step. + +"To give you an idea, suh," he continued, "of what we Southern people +suffe'd immediately after the fall of the Confederacy, let me state a +case that came under my own observation. + +"Coloner Temple Talcott of F'okeer County, Virginia, came into +Talcottville one mornin', suh,--a town settled by his ancestors,--ridin' +upon his horse--or rather a mule belongin' to his overseer. Colonel +Talcott, suh, belonged to one of the vehy fust families in Virginia. He +was a son of Jedge Thaxton Talcott, and grandson of General Snowden +Stafford Talcott of the Revolutionary War. Now, suh, let me tell you +right here that the Talcott blood is as blue as the sky, and that every +gentleman bearin' the name is known all over the county as a man whose +honor is dearer to him than his life, and whose word is as good as his +bond. Well, suh, on this mornin' Colonel Talcott left his plantation in +charge of his overseer,--he was workin' it on shares,--and rode through +his estate to his ancestral town, some five miles distant. It is true, +suh, these estates were no longer in his name, but that had no bearin' +on the events that followed; he ought to have owned them, and would have +done so but for some vehy ungentlemanly fo'closure proceedin's which +occurred immediately after the war. + +"On arriving at Talcottville the colonel dismounted, handed the reins to +his servant,--or perhaps one of the niggers around de do'--and entered +the post-office. Now, suh, let me tell you that one month befo', the +Government, contrary to the express wishes of a great many of our +leadin' citizens, had sent a Yankee postmaster to Talcottville to +administer the postal affairs of the town. No sooner had this man taken +possession than he began to be exclusive, suh, and to put on airs. The +vehy fust air he put on was to build a fence in his office and compel +our people to transact their business through a hole. This in itself was +vehy gallin', suh, for up to that time the mail had always been dumped +out on the table in the stage office and every gentleman had he'ped +himself. The next thing was the closin' of his mail bags at a' hour +fixed by himself. This became a great inconvenience to our citizens, who +were often late in finishin' their correspondence, and who had always +found our former postmaster willin' either to hold the bag over until +the next day, or to send it across to Drummondtown by a boy to catch a +later train. + +"Well, suh, Colonel Talcott's mission to the post-office was to mail a +letter to his factor in Richmond, Virginia, on business of the utmost +importance to himself,--namely, the raisin' of a small loan upon his +share of the crop. Not the crop that was planted, suh, but the crop that +he expected to plant. + +"Colonel Talcott approached the hole, and with that Chesterfieldian +manner which has distinguished the Talcotts for mo' than two centuries, +asked the postmaster for the loan of a three-cent postage stamp. + +"To his astonishment, suh, he was refused. + +"Think of a Talcott in his own county town bein' refused a three-cent +postage stamp by a low-lived Yankee, who had never known a gentleman in +his life! The colonel's first impulse was to haul the scoundrel through +the hole and caarve him; but then he remembered that he was a Talcott +and could not demean himself, and drawin' himself up again with that +manner which was grace itself he requested the loan of a three-cent +postage stamp until he should communicate with his factor in Richmond, +Virginia; and again he was refused. Well, suh, what was there left for a +high-toned Southern gentleman to do? Colonel Talcott drew his revolver +and shot that Yankee scoundrel through the heart, and killed him on the +spot. + +"And now, suh, comes the most remarkable part of the story. If it had +not been for Major Tom Yancey, Jedge Kerfoot and myself, there would +have been a lawsuit." + +Fitz lay back in his chair and roared. + +"And they did not hang the colonel?" + +"Hang a Talcott! No, suh; we don't hang gentlemen down our way. Jedge +Kerfoot vehy properly charged the coroner's jury that it was a matter +of self-defense, and Colonel Talcott was not detained mo' than haalf an +hour." + +The colonel stopped, unlocked a closet in the sideboard, and produced a +black bottle labeled in ink, "Old Cherry Bounce, 1848." + +"You must excuse me, gentlemen, but the discussion of these topics has +quite unnerved me. Allow me to share with you a thimbleful." + +Fitz drained the glass, cast his eyes upward, and said solemnly, "To the +repose of the postmaster's soul." + + + + +LOVE SONNETS OF AN OFFICE BOY + +BY S.E. KISER + + +I + + Oh, if you only knowed how much I like + To stand here, when the "old man" ain't around, + And watch your soft, white fingers while you pound + Away at them there keys! Each time you strike + It almost seems to me as though you'd found + So me way, while writin' letters, how to play + Sweet music on that thing, because the sound + Is something I could listen to all day. + + You're twenty-five or six, and I'm fourteen, + And you don't hardly ever notice me-- + But when you do, you call me Willie! Gee, + I wisht I'd bundles of the old long green + And could be twenty-eight or nine or so, + And something happened to your other beau. + + +VI + + When you're typewritin' and that long-legged clerk + Tips back there on his chair and smiles at you, + And you look up and get to smilin', too, + I'd like to go and give his chair a jerk + And send him flyin' till his head went through + The door that goes out to the hall, and when + They picked him up he'd be all black and blue + And you'd be nearly busted laughin' then. + + But if I done it, maybe you would run + And hold his head and smooth his hair and say + It made you sad that he got dumped that way, + And I'd get h'isted out for what I done-- + I wish that he'd get fired and you'd stay + And suddenly I'd be a man some day. + + +VIII + + This morning when that homely, long-legged clerk + Come in he had a rose he got somewhere; + He went and kind of leaned against her chair, + Instead of goin' on about his work, + And stood around and talked to her a while, + Because the boss was out,--and both took care + To watch the door; and when he left her there + He dropped the flower with a sickish smile. + + I snuck it from the glass of water she + Had stuck it in, and tore it up and put + It on the floor and smashed it with my foot, + When neither him nor her was watchin' me-- + I'd like to rub the stem acrost his nose, + And I wish they'd never be another rose. + + +XIII + + Last night I dreamed about her in my sleep; + I thought that her and me had went away + Out on some hill where birds sung 'round all day, + And I had got a job of herdin' sheep. + I thought that she had went along to keep + Me comp'ny, and we'd set around for hours + Just lovin', and I'd go and gather flowers + And pile them at her feet, all in a heap. + + It seemed to me like heaven, bein' there + With only her besides the sheep and birds, + And us not sayin' anything but words + About the way we loved. I wouldn't care + To ever wake again if I could still + Dream we was there forever on the hill. + + +XXVII + + It's over now; the blow has fell at last; + It seems as though the sun can't shine no more, + And nothing looks the way it did before; + The glad thoughts that I used to think are past. + Her desk's shut up to-day, the lid's locked fast; + The keys where she typewrote are still; her chair + Looks sad and lonesome standin' empty there-- + I'd like to let the tears come if I dast. + + This morning when the boss come in he found + A letter that he'd got from her, and so + He read it over twice and turned around + And said: "The little fool's got married!" Oh, + It seemed as if I'd sink down through the ground, + And never peep no more--I didn't, though. + + + + +MR. DOOLEY ON THE GAME OF FOOTBALL + +BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE + + +"Whin I was a young man," said Mr. Dooley, "an' that was a long time +ago,--but not so long ago as manny iv me inimies'd like to believe, if I +had anny inimies,--I played fut-ball, but 'twas not th' fut-ball I see +whin th' Brothers' school an' th' Saint Aloysius Tigers played las' week +on th' pee-raries. + +"Whin I was a la-ad, iv a Sundah afthernoon we'd get out in th' field +where th' oats'd been cut away, an' we'd choose up sides. Wan cap'n'd +pick one man, an' th' other another. 'I choose Dooley,' 'I choose +O'Connor,' 'I choose Dimpsey,' 'I choose Riordan,' an' so on till there +was twinty-five or thirty on a side. Thin wan cap'n'd kick th' ball, an' +all our side'd r-run at it an' kick it back; an' thin wan iv th' other +side'd kick it to us, an' afther awhile th' game'd get so timpischous +that all th' la-ads iv both sides'd be in wan pile, kickin' away at wan +or th' other or at th' ball or at th' impire, who was mos'ly a la-ad +that cudden't play an' that come out less able to play thin he was whin +he wint in. An', if anny wan laid hands on th' ball, he was kicked be +ivry wan else an' be th' impire. We played fr'm noon till dark, an' +kicked th' ball all th' way home in the moonlight. + +"That was futball, an' I was a great wan to play it. I'd think nawthin' +iv histin' th' ball two hundherd feet in th' air, an' wanst I give it +such a boost that I stove in th' ribs iv th' Prowtestant minister--bad +luck to him, he was a kind man--that was lookin' on fr'm a hedge. I was +th' finest player in th' whole county, I was so. + +"But this here game that I've been seein' ivry time th' pagan fistival +iv Thanksgivin' comes ar-round, sure it ain't th' game I played. I seen +th' Dorgan la-ad comin' up th' sthreet yesterdah in his futball +clothes,--a pair iv matthresses on his legs, a pillow behind, a mask +over his nose, an' a bushel measure iv hair on his head. He was followed +by thee men with bottles, Dr. Ryan, an' th' Dorgan fam'ly. I jined thim. +They was a big crowd on th' peerary,--a bigger crowd than ye cud get to +go f'r to see a prize fight. Both sides had their frinds that give th' +colledge cries. Says wan crowd: 'Take an ax, an ax, an ax to thim. +Hooroo, hooroo, hellabaloo. Christyan Bro-others!' an' th' other says, +'Hit thim, saw thim, gnaw thim, chaw thim, Saint Alo-ysius!' Well, +afther awhile they got down to wur-ruk. 'Sivin, eighteen, two, four,' +says a la-ad. I've seen people go mad over figures durin' th' free +silver campaign, but I niver see figures make a man want f'r to go out +an' kill his fellow-men befure. But these here figures had th' same +effect on th' la-ads that a mintion iv Lord Castlereagh'd have on their +fathers. Wan la-ad hauled off, an' give a la-ad acrost fr'm him a punch +in th' stomach. His frind acrost th' way caught him in th' ear. Th' +cinter rush iv th' Saint Aloysiuses took a runnin' jump at th' left lung +iv wan iv th' Christyan Brothers, an' wint to th' grass with him. Four +Christyan Brothers leaped most crooly at four Saint Aloysiuses, an' +rolled thim. Th' cap'n iv th' Saint Aloysiuses he took th' cap'n iv th' +Christyan Brothers be th' leg, an' he pounded th' pile with him as I've +seen a section hand tamp th' thrack. All this time young Dorgan was +standin' back, takin' no hand in th' affray. All iv a suddent he give a +cry iv rage, an' jumped feet foremost into th' pile. 'Down!' says th' +impire. 'Faith, they are all iv that,' says I. 'Will iver they get up?' +'They will,' says ol' man Dorgan. 'Ye can't stop thim,' says he. + +"It took some time f'r to pry thim off. Near ivry man iv th' Saint +Aloysiuses was tied in a knot around wan iv th' Christyan Brothers. On'y +wan iv thim remained on th' field. He was lyin' face down, with his nose +in th' mud. 'He's kilt,' says I. 'I think he is,' says Dorgan, with a +merry smile. 'Twas my boy Jimmy done it, too,' says he. 'He'll be +arrested f'r murdher,' says I. 'He will not,' says he. 'There's on'y wan +polisman in town cud take him, an' he's down town doin' th' same f'r +somebody,' he says. Well, they carried th' corpse to th' side, an' took +th' ball out iv his stomach with a monkey wrinch, an' th' game was +rayshumed. 'Sivin, sixteen, eight, eleven,' says Saint Aloysius; an' +young Dorgan started to run down th' field. They was another young la-ad +r-runnin' in fr-ront iv Dorgan; an', as fast as wan iv th' Christyan +Brothers come up an' got in th' way, this here young Saint Aloysius +grabbed him be th' hair iv th' head an' th' sole iv th' fut, an' thrun +him over his shoulder. 'What's that la-ad doin'?' says I. 'Interfering' +says he. 'I shud think he was,' says I, 'an' most impudent,' I says. +''Tis such interference as this,' I says, 'that breaks up fam'lies'; an' +I come away. + +"'Tis a noble sport, an' I'm glad to see us Irish ar-re gettin' into it. +Whin we larn it thruly, we'll teach thim colledge joods fr'm th' pie +belt a thrick or two." + +"We have already," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se a team up in Wisconsin +with a la-ad be th' name iv Jeremiah Riordan f'r cap'n, an' wan named +Patsy O'Dea behind him. They come down here, an' bate th' la-ads fr'm +th' Chicawgo Colledge down be th' Midway." + +"Iv coorse, they did," said Mr. Dooley. "Iv coorse, they did. An' they +cud bate anny collection iv Baptists that iver come out iv a tank." + + + + +THE FAIRPORT ART MUSEUM + +BY OCTAVE THANET + + +After the war was over, the Middle West addressed itself to Culture. +Perhaps the husbands and brothers and fathers might still be busy making +money; but the women of the West, whose energies and emotions had been +mightily roused, found life a little tame when there were no more +sanitary commissions, no more great fairs or little fairs for the +soldiers, no more intense emotions over printed sheets. Then it was that +the Woman's Club lifted a modest finger at the passing car of progress, +and unobtrusively boarded it. + +Fairport was conservative, as always, but she had no mind to be left +behind in the march of feminine fashion. She did not rush to extremes, +but she had women's clubs in 1881. The chief of these were the Ladies' +Literary Club and the Spinsters' Alliance. Both clubs tackled the same +great themes of ethics and art, and allotted a winter to the literature +of a nation, except in the case of Greek and Roman literatures, which +were not considered able to occupy a whole winter apiece, so they were +studied in company. The club possessed a proper complement of officers, +and their meetings went from house to house. They were conducted with +artless simplicity, in a pleasant, conversational manner, but with due +regard to polite forms; and only at a moment of excitement was the chair +addressed by her Christian name. + +Naturally, the women's clubs were deeply stirred by the first great +World's Fair in America. But the whole West was moved. It turned to art +with a joyous ardor, the excited happiness of a child that finds a new +beauty in the world. Why had we not thought of the artistic regeneration +of our sordid life before? Never mind, we would make amends for lost +time by spending more money! In very truth the years following the +Centennial witnessed an extraordinary awakening of worship of beauty, +almost religious in its fervor. Passionate pilgrims ransacked Europe and +the Orient; a prodigal horde of their captives, objects of luxury and of +art, surged into galleries and museums and households. No cold, critical +taste weeded out these adorable aliens. The worst and the best +conquered, together. Our architecture, our furniture, our household +surroundings were metamorphosed as by enchantment. And the feature of +mark in it all was the unparalleled diffusion of the new faith. Not the +great cities only; the towns, the villages, the hamlets, caught fire. + +Of course, Fairport went to Philadelphia; and Fairport was converted. It +followed, at once that the women's clubs of the place should serve most +zealously at the altar; and nothing could be more inevitable than that +in course of time there should be a concrete manifestation of zeal. +Hence the memorable Art Museum, the fame of which to this day will +revive, when there is a meeting of the solid and gray-haired matrons who +were the light-footed girls of the Alliance, and the talk falls on the +old times. + +The art collection would give its admirers shivers to-day, but it +excited only happy complacency then. The mood of the hour was not +critical. The homes of the Fairport gentry held innumerable oil copies +of the great masters of different degrees of merit, which they loaned +secure of welcome; with them came family treasures so long held in +reverence that their artistic value (coldly considered) had been lost to +comparison, and the gems of accomplished amateurs who painted flowers on +china cups, or of rising young artists who had not as yet risen beyond +the circle of trusting friends in town. + +In general, the donors' expectation of gratitude was justified, but even +so early as 1881 there were limits to artistic credulity; and some +offerings drove the club president, Miss Claudia Loraine, and the club +secretary, Miss Emma Hopkins, to "the coal hold." This was a wee closet +under the stairs, where the coal scuttles were ranged, until they should +fare forth to replenish the "base burners" which warmed the Museum home. +In real life the name of the Museum's lodgings was Harness Block, and +Mr. Harness had proffered the cause of art two empty stores, formerly a +fish market and a grocery. As there was no private office (only a wire +cage), when Miss Hopkins felt the need of frank speech she signaled +Claudia to the coal hole. + +She was closeted with her thus on the morning of the second day. The +subject of the conference was the last assault on the nerves of the +committee, perpetrated by the Miller twins--not in person, but with +their china. The china, itself, had the outward semblance of ordinary +blue earthen ware of a cheap grade; but the Miller twins were convinced +(on the testimony of their dear old minister, who never told a lie in +his life, and who had heard the Millers' grandmother say--and everybody +knows that _she_ was a saint on earth, and she was ninety years old at +the time, and would she be likely to lie almost on her dying bed?--you +might call it her dying bed, averred Miss Miller, since she was +bedridden for two years before her death, on that same old four-poster +bedstead which belonged to her mother, and at last died on it) that the +blue ware had been the property of George the Third, had been sold and +was on board the ship with the tea which was rifled in Boston Harbor. +They had insisted in pasting these royal claims upon the china in the +blackest and neatest lettering. The awkward fact that earthenware does +not usually grace a royal board, or that the saintly old grandmother +mixed up dates and persons in a wonderful way during her latter days, +made no difference to her loyal descendants. Each platter with the black +chipping betraying plainly its lowly origin, each tea-cup mended with +cement, bore the paper-claim pasted securely upon it. + +"It took up a whole afternoon," said Miss Tina Miller, "but it's _so_ +precious and there might be other blue ware and it _might_ get +mixed--you'll insure it, Miss Hopkins? not that money could replace such +things, but, at least"--Miss Tina Miller always left her sentences in +the air, seemingly too diffident to complete them, once the auditors +were assured of their import. + +The Millers kept a tiny little house on a tiny little income; but gave +of all they had to give, themselves, without stint. They were +public-spirited women, if Fairport ever held any such. Although they had +neither brothers nor cousins to go to the war, they had picked lint and +made bandages and trudged with subscription papers and scrimped for +weeks to have money to spend at the patriotic fairs. In consequence they +were deeply respected, so respected that it was simply impossible to +refuse their unselfish offering of their dearest god. + +"I think it just _noble_ of you," said Miss Tina. "Sister and I felt we +_must_ help; so we brought the King George china and a little pencil +head our sister Euphrosyne did. The one who died, you know. I'm sorry +all your--art things--aren't in yet. No, I can't come to-morrow; I +shall be very busy--sister may come--_thank_ you." + + * * * * * + +Both the keen young listeners knew why Miss Tina could not come; it was +neither more nor less than the admission fee. + +"But I'll take care of that," said Emma to Claudia in the coal hold. +"Elly is going to give her and Miss Ally each a season ticket." + +"Then we're _in_ for the King George china!" groaned Claudia softly. + +"We are," said Emma. "I've put it in a good but not too good a place, +and Mr. Winslow is inspecting it now." + +"And he _knows_ about china; he's sent lovely things," mourned Claudia. + +"Oh, well, he knows about the Miller girls, too," said Emma, smiling; "I +think he'll forgive us." + +"You'd better go explain," urged Claudia, "and throw in that landscape +with the cow that seems to have five legs and belongs to Mr. Harness. +Perhaps he'll forgive that, too." + +Emma went,--she was an amiable girl. She was not pretty like her sister, +Mrs. Raimund, who had married the great railway man and was a power in +Chicago society; but there was something in the radiant neatness and +good humor of the plain sister which made her pleasant to look upon. + +Winslow's mouth and eyes relaxed at her greeting, and he smiled over her +official quotation of the Millers' claims. + +"King George's table? H'mn; which table, second or third?" His eyes +twinkled at Emma, whose own eyes twinkled back. + +"They're awfully good women," said she, in a kind of compunction. + +"None better," said he. + +As he passed on, with his little son at his side, she thought: "He isn't +nearly so grim as I used to think." + +Mrs. Winslow and Mrs. Winter were a few paces behind. They halted before +the china, which Mrs. Winter examined; but Mrs. Winslow's weary eyes +lingered hardly a moment before they found some other object on which to +rest and leave as briefly. + +"It is to be hoped this priceless relic won't be damaged in any way," +said Mrs. Winter. "Still"--she bent confidentially toward Emma--"if such +a calamity should occur, I know a shop in Chicago where you can get +plenty for three dollars and ninety-nine cents." + +"I hope nothing will happen to it," said Emma, with stolid reticence. + +Mrs. Winslow had not listened, her listless face had been transformed; +it was illumined now by the loveliest of smiles; she half put out her +hand as a little boy snuggled up to her silken skirts, with a laugh. + +"Papa letted me come," he said gaily, "and Peggy's here, too,--there!" + +Peggy was attired with great care, her long red curls were shining and +her eyes sparkled. + +Immediately both children were immersed in the beauties of a collection +of rejected models which had been obtained from the patent office, and +which, surely, were the most diverting toys imaginable. + +"Poor things, to them they _are_ most valuable!" sighed Mrs. Winslow. +She was making conversation about the Miller china; but Johnny-Ivan and +Peggy not unreasonably conceived that she spoke of the beautiful churns +and hayraking wagons and cars and wheeled chairs and the like marvels +which Miss Hopkins was amiably explaining for them. + +"The least chip would be irreparable, I suppose," continued Mrs. Winter, +"thousands couldn't pay if one were broken!" + +"Imagine the feelings of the custodian," said Emma. "I'm in a tremble +all the time." + +"I pity you," said Mrs. Winter, as the two ladies passed on to Mrs. +Winter's great-grandmother's blue and white embroidered bedspread. + +"Oh, Peggy, _do_ be careful!" whispered Johnny-Ivan; Peggy was sending a +velocipede in dizzy circles round the counter. + +Now fate had ordered that at this critical instant the children should +be unguarded. Miss Hopkins had stepped aside at the call of an agitated +lady who had lost one of her art treasures in carriage; for the moment, +there was no one near save a freckled boy in shabby overalls, who eyed +the toys wistfully from afar. He was the same little boy whom +Johnny-Ivan had bribed with a jack-knife to close the gate a few weeks +before; and he was in the Museum to help his mother, the scrub-woman of +the store. + +Peggy grew more pleased with her play. The velocipede described wider +and wider gyrations with accelerating speed; its keen buzz swelled on +the air. + +"It'll hit somepin!" warned Johnny-Ivan in an access of fear. + +But Peggy's soul was dauntless to recklessness. "No, it won't," she +flung back. Her shining head was between Johnny and the whirling wheels. +He thought a most particularly beautiful little swinging gate in peril +and tried to swerve the flying thing; how it happened, neither of the +children knew; there was a smash, a crash, and gate and velocipede lay +in splinters under a bronze bust. The glass of the show-case was etched +with a sinister gray line. + +"_Now_ look what you've done!" exclaimed Peggy, with the natural +irritation of disaster. "Oh, my!" squeaked the shabby little boy, "won't +you catch it!" Peggy's anger was swallowed up in fright and sympathy; +she pushed Johnny-Ivan ahead of her. "That Miss Hopkins is looking," +cried she, "get behind these folks down the aisle!" + +She propelled the little boy out of the immediate neighborhood of the +calamity; she forced a wicked, deceitful smile (alas! guile comes easy +to her sex) and pointed out things to him, whispering, "Look pleasant! +Don't be so scared! They'll never know we did it." Already she was +shouldering her share in crime, with a woman's willingness; she said +"we" quite unconsciously; but she added (and this was of direct +volition): "I did it more'n you; you were just trying to keep the nasty +thing straight; I was a heap more to blame. Anyhow, I guess it ain't so +awful bad. Just those wooden things." + +Johnny-Ivan shook a tragic head; even his lips had gone bluish-white. +"She said thousands wouldn't repair the damage," moaned he. + +"You can't make me believe those mean little wooden tricks are worth any +thousand dollars!" volleyed Peggy; nevertheless, her heart beat +faster,--grown people are so queer. "Are you sure she meant _them_? +Maybe it was those things in the next glass case; they're her own +things! They're some kind of Chinese china and cost a heap." Peggy's +sturdy womanly wits were rising from the shock. + +"And the show-case is broked!" sniffed Johnny-Ivan, gulping down a sob. + +"It ain't broke, it's only cracked; 'sides, it was cracked a right smart +befo'!" + +"But this was a new place--I know, 'cause I cut my finger on the other, +scraping it over." + +"Well, anyhow, I reckon it didn't be much value," Peggy insisted. + +"I saw that young lady come back,"--Johnny-Ivan had switched on to a new +track leading to grisly possibilities--"maybe _she'll_ find it!" + +"Well, we're gone, all right." + +Peggy gave an unprincipled giggle; "Maybe she'll think it was _him_." + +"Then we _got_ to tell," moaned Johnny. + +"No, we ain't. He'll run off and so she won't ask him questions." + +"But she'll _think_ it's him. It'll be mean." + +"No it won't." + +"It's mean to have somebody else take your blame or your punishment; +mamma said so." + +The small casuist was too discreet to attack Johnny's oracle; she only +pouted her pretty lips and quibbled: + +"'Tain't mean if the people who get blamed are mean themselves--like +him. I don't care _how_ blamed he gets; I wouldn't care if he got +licked." + +But Johnny's conscience was not so elastic. "I don't care, either," he +protested. "I--I wouldn't care if he was _deaded_"--anxious to +propitiate--"but it would be mean just the same. I got to tell papa, +Peggy, I truly have." + +Peggy grew very cross. "You are just the foolest, obsternatest little +boy I ever did see," she grumbled; "you're a plumb idiot! I'd like to +slap you! Your papa'll be awful mad." + +Johnny-Ivan essayed an indifferent mien, but his eyes were miserable. + +"Say, Jo'nivan,"--her voice sank to a whisper that curdled his +blood--"were you ever spanked?" + +"Only Hilma sorter kinder--not really _spanking_, you know," confessed +Johnny with a toss of his head. "I just made faces at her; I didn't +cry!" he bragged. + +"Never your mamma or your papa?" + +"Course not," said Johnny with a haughty air; "but, Peggy," he said very +low, "were you--did--" + +"Oh, my, yes! Mammy did when I was little. I'm too big now." + +"I'm too big, too, now, ain't I?" + +"I don't know," said Peggy. "Wulf Greiner was licked by teacher, and +he's thirteen. It's whether it's mighty bad, you know." + +Johnny-Ivan caught his breath and his legs shook under him; the horror +of his father's "licking" him came over him cold; it was not the pain; +he had never minded Hilma's sturdy blows and he had let Michael cut a +splinter out of his thumb with a pocket-knife, and never whimpered; it +was the ignominy, the unknown terror of his father's wrath that looked +awful to him. As he looked down the crowded room and suddenly beheld +Winslow's face bent gravely over Miss Hopkins, who was talking +earnestly, he could hardly move his feet. Yet he had no thought of +wavering. "I _got_ to tell," he said, and walked as fast as he could, +with his white face, straight to the group. + +Winslow looked down and saw the two children; and one could discover the +signals of calamity in their faces: Peggy's a fine scarlet and +Johnny-Ivan's grayish-white. + +"What's the matter, Johnny?" asked Winslow. + +Johnny's eyelids were glued tight--just as they were when he pulled +Peggy's tooth--he blurted everything out breathlessly: "I've done +something _awful_, papa! It'll cost thousands of dollars." + +Emma Hopkins had considered Winslow an unattractive man, of a harsh +visage, but now, as he looked at his little son, she changed her mind. + +"What did you do, son?" said he quietly; his hand found Johnny's brown +curls and lay on them a second. + +"He didn't do it, really; it was _me_," Peggy broke in, too agitated for +grammar. "I was playing with the little tricks on the table, the models, +sah, and I was making the v'losipid run round and he was 'fraid I'd +break it; but _I_ did it, really, sah." + +"And the model fell on to something valuable? I see." + +"But he wasn't playing with it, he was only trying to keep me from +breaking--" + +"Well, young lady, you two are evidently in the same boat; but you +aren't a bit sneaky, either of you. Let's see the wreckage; I suppose +you got into trouble because you wanted to see how things worked, and +Johnny, as usual, couldn't keep out of other folks' hot water. Where's +the ruin?" + +"The show-case is broked, too," said Johnny-Ivan in a woeful, small +voice. + +"But it was cracked before," interjected Peggy. + +Winslow looked at her with a little twist. "That's a comfort," said he, +"and you have horse sense, my little Southerner. I guess you didn't +either of you mean any harm--" + +"Indeed, no, sah, and Johnny was just as good; never touched a thing--" + +"But you see your intentions didn't protect you. Distrust good +intentions, my dears; look out for the possible consequences. However, I +think there is one person to blame you haven't mentioned, and that is +one Josiah C. Winslow, who let two such giddy young persons explore by +themselves. Contributory negligence is proved; and said Winslow will pay +the bill and not kick." + +So saying, he took Peggy's warm, chubby little fingers in one of his big +white hands and Johnny-Ivan's cold little palm in the other, and nodded +a farewell to Emma. + + + + +THE BALLAD OF GRIZZLY GULCH[1] + +BY WALLACE IRWIN + + + The rocks are rough, the trail is tough, + The forest lies before, + As madly, madly to the hunt + Rides good King Theodore + With woodsmen, plainsmen, journalists + And kodaks thirty-four. + + The bob-cats howl, the panthers growl, + "He sure is after us!" + As by his side lopes Bill, the Guide, + A wicked-looking cuss-- + "Chee-chee!" the little birds exclaim, + "Ain't Teddy stren-oo-uss!" + + Though dour the climb with slip and slime, + King Ted he doesn't care, + Till, cracking peanuts on a rock, + Behold, a Grizzly Bear! + King Theodore he shows his teeth, + But he never turns a hair. + + "Come hither, Court Photographer," + The genial monarch saith, + "Be quick to snap your picture-trap + As I do yon Bear to death." + "Dee-lighted!" cries the smiling Bear, + As he waits and holds his breath. + + Then speaks the Court Biographer, + And a handy guy is he, + "First let me wind my biograph, + That the deed recorded be." + "A square deal!" saith the patient Bear, + With ready repartee. + + And now doth mighty Theodore + For slaughter raise his gun; + A flash, a bang, an ursine roar-- + The dready deed is done! + And now the kodaks thirty-four + In chorus click as one. + + The big brown bruin stricken falls + And in his juices lies; + His blood is spent, yet deep content + Beams from his limpid eyes. + "Congratulations, dear old pal!" + He murmurs as he dies. + + From Cripple Creek and Soda Springs, + Gun Gulch and Gunnison, + A-foot, a-sock, the people flock + To see that deed of gun; + And parents bring huge families + To show what _they_ have done. + + In the damp corse stands Theodore + And takes a hand of each, + As loud and long the happy throng + Cries, "Speech!" again and "Speech!" + Which pleaseth well King Theodore, + Whose practice is to preach. + + "Good friends," he says, "lead outdoor lives + And Fame you yet may see-- + Just look at Lincoln, Washington, + And great Napoleon B.; + And after that take off your hats + And you may look at me!" + + But as he speaks, a Messenger + Cries, "Sire, a telegraft!" + The king up takes the wireless screed + Which he opens fore and aft, + And reads: "The Venezuelan stew + Is boiling over. TAFT." + + Then straight the good King Theodore + In anger drops his gun + And turns his flashing spectacles + Toward high-domed Washington. + "O tush!" he saith beneath his breath, + "A man can't have no fun!" + + Then comes a disappointed wail + From every rock and tree. + "Good-by, good-by!" the grizzlies cry + And wring their handkerchee. + And a sad bob-cat exclaims, "O drat! + He never shot at me!" + + So backward, backward from the hunt + The monarch lopes once more. + The Constitution rides behind + And the Big Stick rides before + (Which was a rule of precedent + In the reign of Theodore). + +[Footnote 1: From "At the Sign of the Dollar," by Wallace Irwin. +Copyright, 1905, by Fox, Duffield & Co.] + + + + +MY PHILOSOFY + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + + I ain't, ner don't p'tend to be, + Much posted on philosofy; + But thare is times, when all alone, + I work out idees of my own. + And of these same thare is a few + I'd like to jest refer to you-- + Pervidin' that you don't object + To listen clos't and rickollect. + + I allus argy that a man + Who does about the best he can + Is plenty good enugh to suit + This lower mundane institute-- + No matter ef his daily walk + Is subject fer his neghbor's talk, + And critic-minds of ev'ry whim + Jest all git up and go fer him! + + I knowed a feller onc't that had + The yeller-janders mighty bad,-- + And each and ev'ry friend he'd meet + Would stop and give him some receet + Fer cuorin' of 'em. But he'd say + He kindo' thought they'd go away + Without no medicin', and boast + That he'd git well without one doste. + + He kep' a-yellerin' on--and they + Perdictin' that he'd die some day + Before he knowed it! Tuck his bed, + The feller did, and lost his head, + And wundered in his mind a spell-- + Then rallied, and, at last, got well; + But ev'ry friend that said he'd die + Went back on him eternally! + + Its natchurl enugh, I guess, + When some gits more and some gits less, + Fer them-uns on the slimmest side + To claim it ain't a fare divide; + And I've knowed some to lay and wait, + And git up soon, and set up late, + To ketch some feller they could hate + Fer goin' at a faster gait. + + The signs is bad when folks commence + A-findin' fault with Providence, + And balkin' 'cause the earth don't shake + At ev'ry prancin' step they take. + No man is grate tel he can see + How less than little he would be + Ef stripped to self, and stark and bare + He hung his sign out anywhare. + + My doctern is to lay aside + Contensions, and be satisfied: + Jest do your best, and praise er blame + That follers that, counts jest the same. + I've allus noticed grate success + Is mixed with troubles, more or less, + And it's the man who does the best + That gits more kicks than all the rest. + + + + +THE SOCIETY UPON THE STANISLAUS + +BY BRET HARTE + + + I reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James; + I am not up to small deceit, or any sinful games; + And I'll tell in simple language what I know about the row + That broke up our society upon the Stanislow. + + But first I would remark, that it is not a proper plan + For any scientific man to whale his fellow-man, + And, if a member don't agree with his peculiar whim, + To lay for that same member for to "put a head" on him. + + Now, nothing could be finer or more beautiful to see + Than the first six months' proceedings of that same society, + Till Brown of Calaveras brought a lot of fossil bones + That he found within a tunnel near the tenement of Jones. + + Then Brown he read a paper, and he reconstructed there, + From those same bones, an animal that was extremely rare; + And Jones then asked the Chair for a suspension of the rules, + Till he could prove that those same bones was one of his lost mules. + + Then Brown he smiled a bitter smile and said he was at fault, + It seemed he had been trespassing on Jones's family vault; + He was a most sarcastic man, this quiet Mr. Brown, + And on several occasions he had cleaned out the town. + + Now, I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent + To say another is an ass--at least, to all intent; + Nor should the individual who happens to be meant + Reply by heaving rocks at him to any great extent. + + Then Abner Dean of Angel's raised a point of order, when + A chunk of old red sandstone took him in the abdomen, + And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor, + And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more. + + For, in less time than I write it, every member did engage + In a warfare with the remnants of a palaeozoic age; + And the way they heaved those fossils in their anger was a sin, + Till the skull of an old mammoth caved the head of Thompson in. + + And this is all I have to say of these improper games, + For I live at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James; + And I've told, in simple language, what I know about the row + That broke up our society upon the Stanislow. + + + + +LOST CHORDS + +BY EUGENE FIELD + + + One autumn eve, when soft the breeze + Came sweeping through the lattice wide, + I sat me down at organ side + And poured my soul upon the keys. + + It was, perhaps by heaven's design, + That from my half unconscious touch, + There swept a passing chord of such + Sweet harmony, it seemed divine. + + In one soft tone it seemed to say + The sweetest words I ever heard, + Then like a truant forest bird, + It soared from me to heaven away. + + Last eve, I sat at window whence + I sought the spot where erst had stood + A cord--a cord of hick'ry wood, + Piled up against the back yard fence. + + Four dollars cost me it that day, + Four dollars earned by sweat of brow, + Where was the cord of hick'ry now? + The thieves had gobbled it away! + + Ah! who can ever count the cost, + Of treasures which were once our own, + Yet now, like childhood dreams are flown, + Those cords that are forever lost. + + + + +THOUGHTS FER THE DISCURAGED FARMER + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + + The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin' locus' trees; + And the clover in the pastur is a big day fer the bees, + And they been a-swiggin' honey, above board and on the sly, + Tel they stutter in theyr buzzin' and stagger as they fly. + The flicker on the fence-rail 'pears to jest spit on his wings + And roll up his feathers, by the sassy way he sings; + And the hoss-fly is a-whettin'-up his forelegs fer biz, + And the off-mare is a-switchin' all of her tale they is. + + You can hear the blackbirds jawin' as they foller up the plow-- + Oh, theyr bound to git theyr brekfast, and theyr not a-carin' how; + So they quarrel in the furries, and they quarrel on the wing-- + But theyr peaceabler in pot-pies than any other thing: + And it's when I git my shotgun drawed up in stiddy rest, + She's as full of tribbelation as a yeller-jacket's nest; + And a few shots before dinner, when the sun's a-shinin' right, + Seems to kindo'-sorto' sharpen up a feller's appetite! + + They's been a heap o' rain, but the sun's out to-day, + And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared away, + And the woods is all the greener, and the grass is greener still; + It may rain again to-morry, but I don't think it will. + Some says the crops is ruined, and the corn's drownded out, + And propha-sy the wheat will be a failure, without doubt; + But the kind Providence that has never failed us yet, + Will be on hands onc't more at the 'leventh hour, I bet! + + Does the medder-lark complane, as he swims high and dry + Through the waves of the wind and the blue of the sky? + Does the quail set up and whissel in a disappinted way, + Er hang his head in silunce, and sorrow all the day? + Is the chipmuck's health a-failin'?--Does he walk, er does he run? + Don't the buzzards ooze around up thare jest like they've allus done? + Is they anything the matter with the rooster's lungs er voice? + Ort a mortul be complanin' when dumb animals rejoice? + + Then let us, one and all, be contentud with our lot; + The June is here this mornin', and the sun is shining hot. + Oh! let us fill our harts up with the glory of the day, + And banish ev'ry doubt and care and sorrow fur away! + Whatever be our station, with Providence fer guide, + Sich fine circumstances ort to make us satisfied; + Fer the world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew, + And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips fer me and you. + + + + +THE MODERN FARMER[2] + +BY JACK APPLETON + + + Observe the modern farmer! In the shade + He works his crops by letters-patent now: + Steam drives the reaper (which is union-made), + As in the spring it pushed the auto-plough; + A patent milker manages each cow; + Electric currents guide the garden spade, + And cattle, poultry, pigs through "process" wade + To quick perfection--Science shows them how. + But while machinery plants and reaps, he rests + Upon his porch, and listens to the quail + That pipe far off in yonder hand-made vale, + With muscles flabby and with strength gone stale, + Until, in desperation, he invests + In "Muscle-Building Motions Taught by Mail"! + +[Footnote 2: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +THE APOSTASY OF WILLIAM DODGE + +BY STANLEY WATERLOO + + +Billy Dodge rose from a seat near the door, and gave the two ladies +chairs. Kate looked at him and smiled. The voice of the speaker seemed +far away as she thought of the boy and his enthusiasms. Of all the +earnest and sincere converts in the Lakeside House none could compare +with Master William Dodge, the only son of the mistress of the place. He +might be only eleven years old, he might be the most freckled boy in the +block, but he had received new light, and he had his convictions. He had +listened, and he had learned. He had learned that if you "hold a +thought" and carry it around with you on a piece of paper, and read it +from time to time throughout the day, it will bring you strength and +give you victory in all the affairs of life. He thought the matter over +much, for he had great need. He wanted help. + +Of Master William Dodge, known as Billy, it may be said that in school +he had ordinarily more fights on his hands than any other boy of his age +and size, and it may be said, also, that as a rule, where the chances +were anywhere near even, he came out "on top." But doggedly brave as the +little freckled villain was, he had down in the bottom of his heart an +appreciation that some day Jim McMasters might lick him. Jim McMasters +was a boy only some six months older than Billy, of North of Ireland +blood--than which there is none better--a lank, scrawny, reddish-haired +youngster, freckled almost as profusely as Billy. Three times had they +met in noble battle, and three times had Billy been the conqueror, but +somehow the spirit of young McMasters did not seem particularly broken, +nor did he become a serf. Billy felt that the air was full of portent, +and he didn't like it. + +It was just at this time that to Billy came the conviction that by +"holding the thought" he would have what he called "the bulge on Jim," +and having the energy of his convictions, he promptly set to the work of +getting up texts which he could carry around in his pocket and which +would make him just invincible. He talked cautiously with Mandy Make as +to good watch-words, in no way revealing his designs, and from her +secured certain texts which she had herself unconsciously memorized from +many hearings of Jowler preachers. They were: + +"Fight the good fight." +"Never give up." +"He never fails who dies in a good cause." +"Never say die." + +For a time Billy was content with these quotations, written in a +school-boy hand upon brown paper, and carried in his left-hand trousers +pocket, but later he discovered that most of the scientists in the house +who "held a thought" themselves prepared their own little bit of +manuscript to be carried and read during the day, and that the text was +made to apply to their special needs. Billy, after much meditation, +concluded this was the thing for him, and with great travail he composed +and wrote out the new texts which he should carry constantly and which +should be his bulwark. Here they are: + +"Ketch hold prompt and hang on." +"Strike from the shoulder." +"A kick for a blow, always bestow." +"When you get a good thing, keep it--keep it." +"When you get a black cat, skin it to the tail." + +Only a week later one William Dodge and one Jim McMasters again met in +more or less mortal combat, and one William Dodge, repeating the shorter +of his texts as he fought, was again the victor. + +"Gimme Christian Science!" he said to himself, as he put on his coat +after the fray was over. + + * * * * * + +Billy Dodge was fast drifting, although unconsciously, toward a crisis +in his religious and worldly experiences. At school, during the last +term, and so far in the summer vacation, his scheme of fortifying his +physical powers with mental stimulants in the form of warlike "thoughts" +had worked well. His chief rival for the honors of war, an energetic +youngster, whose name, Jim McMasters, proclaimed his Irish ancestry, he +had soundly thrashed more than once since adopting his new tactics. So +far Billy had found that to hold the thought, "Ketch hold prompt and +hang on," while he acted vigorously upon that stirring sentiment, meant +victory, and he had more than once tried the efficacy of, "Strike from +the shoulder," under adverse conditions and with success. + +It was during this summer of anxiety to the more important personages of +this story that Billy Dodge was called upon to prove the practical value +of his belief in the supremacy of mind over matter, and although Billy +emerged from the trial none the worse for his experience, it effected a +radical change in his views. + +Jim McMasters returned one summer's day from a short camping excursion +in the Michigan woods. He had been the only boy in a party of young men, +and during their spare hours, as the members of the fishing party were +lying around camp, they had instructed Jim in a few of the first +principles of the noble science of self-defense. This unselfish action +on the part of his elders was brought about by Jim's bitter complaints +of Billy's treatment of himself in a fair fight, and by his dire thirst +for vengeance. + +And so Jim McMasters came back to the city a dangerous opponent, and he +looked it. Even Billy, secure in the prestige of former victories, and +armed with hidden weapons--namely, the "thoughts" he so tenaciously +held--felt some misgivings when he saw Jim and noted his easy, +swaggering mien. + +"I've got to lick him again," thought Billy, "and I've got to be good +and ready for him this time. I must get a set of thoughts well learned +and hold 'em, or I'll be lammed out of my life." + +The youngsters met one day, each with his following of admirers, in a +vacant lot not far from the Lakeside House. There was a queer look in +Jim's eye when he hailed Billy, and there was instant response in +language of a violent character from the young disciple of Christian +Science. As the two stood in a ring of boys, each watching the other and +alert to catch some advantage of beginning, Billy was certainly the most +unconcerned, and he appeared to advantage. He was occupied throughout +every nerve and vein of his being, first in "holding the thought" he had +fixed upon for this special occasion, and second, by his plan of attack, +for Billy made it a point always to take the initiative in a fight. + +As for Jim, that active descendant of the Celts failed to exhibit that +alarm and apprehension which should appertain to a young gentleman of +his age when facing an antagonist who had "whaled" him repeatedly. His +face was neither sallow with long dread, nor white with present fear +before his former conqueror. In fact, it must be said of him that he +capered about in a fashion not particularly graceful. He rose upon the +ends of his toes and made wild feints which Billy did not understand. It +was hard, under such disquieting circumstances, to hold a thought, and +Billy found himself struggling in mind for equilibrium while he stood +forward to the attack. He aimed a wild blow at his capering opponent, +and drove into soundless air only, and before he could recover himself +the capering opponent had "landed" on Billy's cheek in a most surprising +but altogether unrefreshing manner. + +The concussion made the cheek the color of an old-fashioned peony, and +the jar caused the nose to bleed a little as the astonished Billy +staggered back under the impact of a clenched fist. + +Then the real fight began, but Billy, though he made a strong effort to +rally, was beaten, and he knew, or thought he knew, why he was beaten. +"It was holding the thought that done it," he faltered, as he fell after +a quick stroke from Jim. He lay quiet on the grass, and his one wish was +to die. He fixed his mind resolutely upon this wish, but failed to die +at once; indeed he felt every moment the reviving forces of life +throbbing through his tough young body. How could he look up and face +his victorious foe? He decided rather to continue his efforts to die, +and forthwith stiffened out into such rigidity as can be observed only +in the bodies of those who have been dead forty-eight hours. + +This manoeuver frightened the lads around him. "See here!" said Johnny +Flynn, "Billy's hurt bad, an' we ought to do something." + +"He looks dead!" whimpered little Davy Runnion, the smallest boy +present, and he ran off to tell Jim McMasters, who stood at ease, at a +short distance, arranging his disordered dress. + +The victor faltered as he looked upon Billy's stiffened limbs. + +"We must take him home," he said, ruefully. + +Four boys lifted Billy, two at his shoulders, two at his feet. In the +center he sagged slightly, despite his silent efforts to be rigidity +itself. The small procession was preceded by a rabble of white-faced +small boys, while the rear was guarded by Jim McMasters, meditating on +the reflection that victory might be too dearly bought. Just as they +reached the front steps of Mrs. Dodge's house, and were beginning the +tug up toward the door, Jim burst into a loud bawl, and this so much +disconcerted the youngsters who were carrying Billy that they almost +dropped him on the white door-stone. + +Johnny Flynn gave a mighty ring at the door-bell, and then fled down the +steps and ran to the street corner, where he stood, one foot in the air, +ready to run when the door opened. The neat maid who answered the bell +gave a little shriek when she saw Billy's inanimate form. The boys +pushed by her, dumped their burden upon the big hall sofa, and rushed +out before any questions could be asked. It was plain enough, however, +that Billy had got the worst of the fight. "And sure enough he deserves +it," mentally pronounced the servant maid as she ran to call her +mistress. + +Mrs. Dodge gave a dismal shriek when she saw Billy. She sent the maid +for Dr. Gordon, and sat down on the sofa with Billy's head in her lap. +This was ignominious, and Billy decided to live. He opened his eyes, and +in a faint voice asked for water. + +When the man of medicine arrived he ordered the vanquished to bed. In +the goodness of his heart, pitying the household of women, he even +carried Billy upstairs and assisted in undressing him. The doctor +noticed during this process various small folded papers flying out of +Billy's pockets, but he did not know their meaning. It was left for Cora +and Pearl, later in the day, to pick them up and examine them. Alas for +Billy's faith! + +In his own boyish handwriting were his inspiring "thoughts," "Never say +die," "Ketch hold prompt," etc. Billy turned his face to the wall with a +groan as the twins laid the slips of paper on his pillow. + +That evening, after Billy had held a long session of sweet, silent +thought, for he could not sleep, and had eaten a remarkably good supper, +he opened his mind to his mother. + +"No more of these for me," he began, brushing the texts from his bed +onto the floor. + +"Of what, Willy?" questioned Mrs. Dodge. + +"No more holdin' the thought, and all that," said Billy. "I'm through. +Had too much. That's what did me up. If I hadn't been trying to think +that blamed thought, I'd 'a' seen Jim a-comin'." + +"But, Willy," expostulated Mrs. Dodge, "you must hold fast." + +"Hold nothin'!" said Billy. He arose and sat up very straight in the +bed. "I tell you I am goin' to have no more nonsense. Gimme quinine, +hell, a gold basis, and capital punishment! That's my platform from this +on. I'm goin' to look up a good Sunday-school to-morrow, in a church +with a steeple on it, and a strict, regular minister, and all the +fixin's. Remember, mother, after this I travel on my muscle weekdays, +and keep Sunday like a clock!" + +The twins picked up the scattered thoughts from the floor--Billy was +lying in his mother's room--and their eyes were big with wonder. + +"Burn 'em!" commanded Billy. Then, on second thought, he relented +slightly. "Keep 'em yourself if you want to," he said to the twins. +"Holdin' the thought may be all right for girls, but with boys it don't +work!" + + + + +SO WAGS THE WORLD + +BY ANNE WARNER + +(With apologies to Samuel Pepys, Esquire) + + +_February first_ + +My birthday and I exceedingly merry thereat having in divers friends and +much good wine beside two pasties and more of all than we could eat and +drink had we been doubled. Afterwards to the play-house and a very good +play and hence to a supper the which most hot and comforting with a butt +of brandy and divers cocktails and they being very full did make great +sport and joke me that I had never taken a wife to which replied neatly +saying that for my part in my twenties did feel myself too young and in +my thirties did never chance upon one comely and to my taste at which +great applause and pretty to see me bow to right and left although in +mortal fear lest something give way, I being grown heavier of late and +the quality of cloth suffering from the New York Custom House. The +applause being over did continue my speech and say that in my forties +had had little time to think of aught but my own personal affairs, but +that now being come to my fifties was well disposed to share them and +they did all drink to that and smash their glasses with right good cheer +prophesying my marriage and drinking long life to Her and me and Lord +but it did like me to hear speak of Her the which brought tears to mine +eyes, considering that they did speak of my wife, and so did weep freely +and they with me. My mind then a blank but home in some shape and the +maid did get me to my room and what a head this morning! Misliketh me +much to bethink me how I did comport myself, but a man is fifty but +once. + +To mine office where did buy and sell as usual. + + +_February third_ + +Comes H. Nevil in a glass coach to take me to drive and did talk much of +his niece, she being fresh from France and of a good skin and fair +voice. Was of a great joy to ride in a glass coach and pleasant to look +constantly out backward, but great rattling and do think my modest +brougham sufficeth me well, but H. Nevil very disdainful of the brougham +and saith a man is known by the company he keepeth, the which strange in +mine eyes we being alone together in the coach but did go with him to a +horse dealer's. + +To mine office as usual and there did buy and sell. + + +_February eighth_ + +To dine with H. Nevil and his wife and she a monstrous pleasant lady and +the dinner good only the wine poor and my vest too tight which vastly +misliked me, I being loth to grow stout and yet all at odds with my +belts, the which trying me sadly for I do pay my tailor as many do not. +And the niece a striking fine girl modest and not raising her eyes the +which much to my taste and drinking only lambs-wool and at cards knowing +not tierce from deuce. H. Nevil making great ado over my new coach did +have it out with pride and we to the Country Club for a late supper, +the which well-cooked but my vest much tighter and so home and to bed. + +Railway stocks risen two points. + + +_February twentieth_ + +Did take a box at the Play and ask H. Nevil, his wife and niece and a +supper afterwards and pretty to see how miss did refuse mine eyes and +hardly speak two words, the which greatly to my admiration and after +supper did lead her to the coach and press her hand with curious effect +to mine own hair, the which strange and prickly and home and much +thinking on the merry talk at my birthday before sleep. + +Stocks falling somewhat. + + +_March nineteenth_ + +Much agitated and all trembling and of a cold sweat. The Lord have mercy +and me all unwitting until in some strange way do find myself today +betrothed the which I do heartily pray to be for the good of all +concerned, although expensive and worse to come. + +No heart for stocks, but the same arising. + + +_April sixteenth_ + +Do find the being betrothed more to my taste than anticipated and tell +H. Nevil he shall be remembered with pointers when the market turns +again. We to the park to drive each afternoon and many admiring of her +beauty, she desiring often to drive but I firm in refusing for I will be +master in my own house. + +Comes one Lasselle and makes a great tale of a mine and I with no time +for him, but do set the office boy to look him up in Bradstreet. + +These be busy days with a corner on parsnips. + + +_May tenth_ + +The business of being director in Lasselle's mine ended this day and to +a great dinner that he giveth in my honor and my portrait on all the +cards the which pleaseth me mightily and I all complimented and +congratulationed and sly hints on my approaching marriage to the which I +all smiles for Lord the thing being done one must be of good courage. + +Quotations low, beshrew them. + + +_June seventh (the Mountains)_ + +Married this day and to do in a turmoil wheat being all a-rage and me +forced to go home to dress before noon. Did scarce know where I was with +Extras being cried outside the church window and H. Nevil giving the +bride away and on the wrong side of the market by my advice. The bride +hystericky in the carriage and at the station wept so that I was fair +beside myself. Did bethink me to kiss her in the train, but small +comfort to either. What will become of my affairs I know not, this place +being all without stock reports and I half mad and with naught to pass +the time. + +Comes my wife as I write and will have the key to her largest trunk the +same it doth appear is lost, the which on discovery she layeth at my +door and weepeth afresh. Did strive to cheer her but with a heavy +heart. + + +_August tenth_ + +This do be the hottest summer in many years and lest I forget to set it +down more mad dogs than can well be handled. My wife very hystericky and +forever in a smock and declareth she would be dead and married life a +delusion, the which opinion I take small issue with having my hands full +of business and Lasselle forever at my heels with our affair of the mine +not to speak of H. Nevil which waileth continually over how he was +caught short in the month of June. Beshrew me if I repent not of June on +mine own behalf but am determined to live properly and so have +despatched a messenger to my cousin Sarah Badminton asking that she come +to keep mine house. + + +_August twentieth_ + +Comes Sarah Badminton this day and Lord but a plain woman, being flat +like unto a board from her heels up unto her head, but curiously shaped +in and out in front. Still she do seem a worthy jade and good at heart +and ever attentive when I will to converse and sitteth with me of a +breakfast my wife being ever asleep till ten. + +Last night to the Play where comes Lasselle and makes very merry and +telleth jokes the which of great amusement to my wife while I find no +mirth therein. Later to supper at the coffee house and my wife +exceedingly witty and me all of a wonder at the change in her in public +and on reflection do find it passing strange that one ugly like Mistress +Badminton will effort her to be gracious at home while one so handsome +as my wife sleeps ever. + +To my office where did buy and sell as usual. + + +_September sixteenth_ + +My wife not well and strangely indisposed towards me yawning unduly and +complaining that life is dull, yet gay enough for others and of a great +joy over riding horseback with Lasselle. Last night did chide her in bed +for upwards of an hour and misliked me greatly when I had done to find +that she slept for some while before. Will have the doctor to her for +there be surely something amiss in a woman who is not happy with me. + +To my office and H. Nevil all excitement over his margins. + + +_October twenty-ninth_ + +Returned this day from a trip to the Coast and find my wife no better +although the doctor hath been with her each day. She saith the doctor +adviseth quiet until spring. Comes Mrs. Badminton her face all awry and +will that I go with her to Carlsbad and my affairs so many as never was +and never any lover of the sea. That which causeth me great vexation +that I have a wife and say flatly to Mrs. Badminton to ask the doctor if +he can not take her to Carlsbad any money being wiser than to travel +with oats where they be now and chicken feed going up to beat the band, +at which the good woman raiseth her hands aloft and maketh such +demonstration that I clean out of patience and basted her with the fire +shovel the same being not courteous but sadly necessary to all +appearance. + + +_November sixth_ + +My wife most nervous and there being no peace with Her did discuss the +same with Lasselle to-day and although unmarried yet did sympathize +much and advise for me with a right good will telling me of a place in +southern France where he hath been and the same beyond all else for the +nerves only lonely but that not so bad since he proposeth going there +this winter himself and can see after my wife somewhat the which greatly +to my relief and so home and did discourse thereon with Mistress +Badminton the which drew a long face and plain to see was dead against +the plan the which putting me in a fine temper with what a woman hath +for brains. + +Wheat rising and A. B. & C. going down comes H. Nevil short to borrow +the which crowneth my fury his niece being so far from making me happy +and he being the cause of all. But did indorse two notes for him and so +home and to bed with a bad grace and glad that my wife has betaken +herself to another room. + + +_December ninth_ + +From the dock and my wife do be gone and now we may look for some peace +the which sad enough needed. + + +_December tenth_ + +Comes H. Nevil all distraught to say that it is about at the clubs that +my wife will have a divorce and marry the doctor, on the which hearing I +much annoyed and summon Mrs. Badminton who denyeth the doctor but +asserteth Lasselle whereupon we in a great taking and much brandy and +soda but at last reflection and do decide not to sue but to pity +Lasselle for of a verity she be forever out of temper and flounceth when +questioned. + +To mine office and D. & E. going up comes H. Nevil to borrow again the +gall of which doth take me greatly. + + +_January seventeenth_ + +Am all of a taking for that the papers in my wife's divorce do be filed +into me this day and great to do when I learn that the cause she +declareth is Sarah Badminton a woman as little comely as never was and +mine own cousin. Verily the ways of a wife be past understanding. + + +_April eleventh_ + +Free this day and being free comes Mrs. Badminton weeping and declareth +she be ruined if I marry her not next the which doth so overcome me that +ere I have time to rally she hath kissed me and called me hers. + +To my office with a heavy heart having no assurance of how this second +marriage will turn out and little hope but seeing H. Nevil with a long +face did refuse to give him any inside information the which led to his +going under about noon to my great joy for it was he who did get me in +this marrying habit. + + +_February first_ + +My birthday and Lord what eating and drinking the which being good +beyond compare my wife staying in the pantry to keep the whole in trim +and all my friends discoursing on my joy the which is truly great she +being so plain that a man will never look at her and so loving that she +adoreth me come smiles come frowns. + +But that which doth astonish me much is that H. Nevil telleth me that +she that was once my wife is of exceeding content with Lasselle a piece +of news which I can scarce credit comparing him with myself. + +But so wags the world. + + + + +THE PAINTERMINE[3] + +BY KENYON COX + + + Its innocence deserves no jibe-- + Pity the creature, do not mock it. + 'Tis type of all the artist tribe; + Its trousers haven't any pocket! + +[Footnote 3: From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.] + + + + +THE ADVERTISER + +BY EUGENE FIELD + + + I am an advertiser great! + In letters bold + The praises of my wares I sound, + Prosperity is my estate; + The people come, + The people go + In one continuous, + Surging flow. + They buy my goods and come again + And I'm the happiest of men; + And this the reason I relate, + I'm an advertiser great! + + There is a shop across the way + Where ne'er is heard a human tread, + Where trade is paralyzed and dead, + With ne'er a customer a day. + The people come, + The people go, + But never there. + They do not know + There's such a shop beneath the skies, + Because _he_ does not advertise! + While I with pleasure contemplate + That I'm an advertiser great. + + The secret of my fortune lies + In one small fact, which I may state, + Too many tradesmen learn too late, + If I have goods, I advertise. + Then people come + And people go + In constant streams, + For people know + That he who has good wares to sell + Will surely advertise them well; + And proudly I reiterate, + I am an advertiser great! + + + + +THE FAMOUS MULLIGAN BALL + +BY FRANK L. STANTON + + + Did ever you hear of the Mulligan ball--the Mulligan ball so fine, + Where we formed in ranks, and danced on planks, and swung 'em along + the line? + Where the first Four Hundred of the town moved at the music's call? + There was never a ball in the world at all--like the famous Mulligan + ball! + + Town was a bit of a village then, and never a house or shed + From street to street and beat to beat was higher than Mulligan's + head! + And never a theater troup came round to 'liven us, spring or fall, + And so Mulligan's wife she says, says she: "Plaze God, I'll give a + ball!" + + And she did--God rest her, and save her, too! (I'm liftin' to her + my hat!) + And never a ball at all, at all, was half as fine as that! + Never no invitations sent--nothin' like that at all; + But the whole Four Hundred combed their hair and went to the Mulligan + ball. + + And "Take yer places!" says Mulligan, "an' dance till you shake the + wall!" + And I led Mrs. Mulligan off as the lady that gave the ball; + And we whirled around till we shook the ground, with never a stop at + all; + And I kicked the heels from my boots--please God--at the famous + Mulligan ball. + + Mulligan jumped till he hit the roof, and the head of him went clean + through it! + The shingles fell on the floor pell-mell! Says Mulligan: "Faith, I + knew it!" + But we kept right on when the roof was gone, with never a break at + all; + We danced away till the break o' day at the famous Mulligan ball. + + But the best of things must pass away like the flowers that fade and + fall, + And it's fifty years, as the records say, since we danced at + Mulligan's ball; + And the new Four Hundred never dance like the Mulligans danced--at + all, + And I'm longing still, though my hair is gray, for a ball like + Mulligan's ball! + + And I drift in dreams to the old-time town, and I hear the fiddle + sing; + And Mulligan sashays up and down till the rafters rock and ring! + Suppose, if I had a woman's eye, maybe a tear would fall + For the old-time fellows who took the prize at the famous Mulligan + ball! + + + + +THE GENIAL IDIOT DISCUSSES THE MUSIC CURE + +BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS + + +"Good morning, Doctor," said the Idiot as Capsule, M.D., entered the +dining-room. "I am mighty glad you've come. I've wanted for a long time +to ask you about this music cure that everybody is talking about and get +you if possible to write me out a list of musical nostrums for every day +use. I noticed last night before going to bed that my medicine chest was +about run out. There's nothing but one quinine pill and a soda-mint drop +in it, and if there's anything in the music cure I don't think I'll have +it filled again. I prefer Wagner to squills, and compared to the +delights of Mozart, Hayden and Offenbach those of paregoric are nit." + +"Still rambling, eh?" vouchsafed the Doctor. "You ought to submit your +tongue to some scientific student of dynamics. I am inclined to think, +from my own observation of its ways, that it contains the germ of +perpetual motion." + +"I will consider your suggestion," replied the Idiot. "Meanwhile, let us +consult harmoniously together on the original point. Is there anything +in this music cure, and is it true that our Medical Schools are +hereafter to have conservatories attached to them in which aspiring +young M.D.'s are to be taught the _materia musica_ in addition to the +_materia medica_?" + +"I had heard of no such idiotic proposition," returned the Doctor. "And +as for the music cure I don't know anything about it. Haven't heard +everybody talking about it, and doubt the existence of any such thing +outside of that mysterious realm which is bounded by the four corners of +your own bright particular cerebellum. What do you mean by the music +cure?" + +"Why, the papers have been full of it lately," explained the Idiot. "The +claim is made that in music lies the panacea for all human ills. It may +not be able to perform a surgical operation like that which is required +for the removal of a leg, and I don't believe even Wagner ever composed +a measure that could be counted on successfully to eliminate one's +vermiform appendix from its chief sphere of usefulness, but for other +things, like measles, mumps, the snuffles, or indigestion, it is said to +be wonderfully efficacious; What I wanted to find out from you was just +what composers were best for which specific troubles." + +"You'll have to go to somebody else for the information," said the +Doctor. "I never heard of the theory and, as I said before, I don't +believe anybody else has, barring your own sweet self." + +"I have seen a reference to it somewhere," put in Mr. Whitechoker, +coming to the Idiot's rescue. "As I recall the matter, some lady had +been cured of a nervous affection by a scientific application of some +musical poultice or other, and the general expectation seems to be that +some day we shall find in music a cure for all our human ills, as the +Idiot suggests." + +"Thank you, Mr. Whitechoker," said the Idiot gratefully. "I saw that +same item and several others besides, and I have only told the truth +when I say that a large number of people are considering the +possibilities of music as a substitute for drugs. I am surprised that +Doctor Capsule has neither heard nor thought about it, for I should +think it would prove to be a pleasant and profitable field for +speculation. Even I who am only a dabbler in medicine, and know no more +about it than the effects of certain remedies upon my own symptoms, have +noticed that music of a certain sort is a sure emollient for nervous +conditions." + +"For example?" said the Doctor. "Of course we don't doubt your word, but +when a man makes a statement based upon personal observation it is +profitable to ask him what his precise experience has been merely for +the purpose of adding to our own knowledge." + +"Well," said the Idiot, "the first instance that I can recall is that of +a Wagner Opera and its effects upon me. For a number of years I suffered +a great deal from insomnia. I could not get two hours of consecutive +sleep and the effect of my sufferings was to make me nervous and +irritable. Suddenly somebody presented me with a couple of tickets for a +performance of Parsifal and I went. It began at five o'clock in the +afternoon. For twenty minutes all went serenely and then the music began +to work. I fell into a deep and refreshing slumber. The intermission +came, and still I slept on. Everybody else went home, dressed for the +evening part of the performance, had their dinner, and returned. Still I +slept and continued so to do until midnight when one of the gentlemanly +ushers came and waked me up and told me that the performance was over. I +rubbed my eyes and looked about me. It was true, the great auditorium +was empty, and was gradually darkening. I put on my hat and walked out +refreshed, having slept from five twenty until twelve, or six hours and +forty minutes, straight. That was one instance. Two weeks later I went +again, this time to hear _Die Goetherdammerung_. The results were the +same, only the effect was instantaneous. The curtain had hardly risen +before I retired to the little ante-room of the box our party occupied +and dozed off into a fathomless sleep. I didn't wake up this time until +nine o'clock the next day, the rest of the party having gone off without +awakening me, as a sort of joke. Clearly Wagner, according to my way of +thinking, then deserves to rank among the most effective narcotics known +to modern science. I have tried all sorts of other things--sulfonal, +trionel, bromide powders, and all the rest and not one of them produced +anything like the soporific results that two doses of Wagner brought +about in one instant, and best of all there was no reaction. No +splitting headache or shaky hand the next day, but just the calm, quiet, +contented feeling that goes with the sense of having got completely +rested up." + +"You run a dreadful risk, however," said the Doctor, with a sarcastic +smile. "The Wagner habit is a terrible thing to acquire, Mr. Idiot." + +"That may be," said the Idiot. "Worse than the sulfonal habit by a great +deal I am told, but I am in no danger of becoming a victim to it while +it costs from five to seven dollars a dose. In addition to this +experience I have also the testimony of a friend of mine who was cured +of a frightful attack of the colic by Sullivan's Lost Chord played on a +Cornet. He had spent the day down at Asbury Park and had eaten not +wisely but too copiously. Among other things that he turned loose in his +inner man were two plates of Lobster Salade, a glass of fresh cider and +a saucerful of pistache ice-cream. He was a painter by profession and +the color scheme he thus introduced into his digestive apparatus was too +much for his artistic soul. He was not fitted by temperament to +assimilate anything quite so strenuously chromatic as that, and as a +consequence shortly after he had retired to his studio for the night +the conflicting tints began to get in their deadly work and within two +hours he was completely doubled up. The pain he suffered was awful. +Agony was bliss alongside of the pangs that now afflicted him and all +the palliatives and pain killers known to man were tried without avail, +and then, just as he was about to give himself up for lost, an amateur +cornetist who occupied a studio on the floor above began to play the +Lost Chord. A counter-pain set in immediately. At the second bar of the +Lost Chord the awful pain that was gradually gnawing away at his vitals +seemed to lose its poignancy in the face of the greater suffering, and +physical relief was instant. As the musician proceeded the internal +disorder yielded gradually to the external and finally passed away +entirely, leaving him so far from prostrated that by one A.M. he was out +of bed and actually girding himself with a shotgun and an Indian Club to +go upstairs for a physical encounter with the cornetist." + +"And you reason from this that Sullivan's Lost Chord is a cure for +Cholera morbus, eh?" sneered the Doctor. + +"It would seem so," said the Idiot. "While the music continued my friend +was a well man ready to go out and fight like a warrior, but when the +cornetist stopped--the colic returned and he had to fight it out in the +old way. In these episodes in my own experience I find ample +justification for my belief and that of others that some day the music +cure for human ailments will be recognized and developed to the full. +Families going off to the country for the summer instead of taking a +medicine-chest along with them will go provided with a music-box with +cylinders for mumps, measles, summer complaint, whooping-cough, +chicken-pox, chills and fever and all the other ills the flesh is heir +to. Scientific experiment will demonstrate before long what composition +will cure specific ills. If a baby has whooping-cough, an anxious +mother, instead of ringing up the Doctor, will go to the piano and give +the child a dose of Hiawatha. If a small boy goes swimming and catches a +cold in his head and is down with a fever, his nurse, an expert on the +accordeon, can bring him back to health again with three bars of Under +the Bamboo Tree after each meal. Instead of dosing kids with cod liver +oil when they need a tonic, they will be set to work at a mechanical +piano and braced up on Narcissus. There'll Be a Hot Time In The Old Town +To-Night will become an effective remedy for a sudden chill. People +suffering from sleeplessness can dose themselves back to normal +conditions again with Wagner the way I did. Tchaikowski, to be well +Tshaken before taken, will be an effective remedy for a torpid liver, +and the man or woman who suffers from lassitude will doubtless find in +the lively airs of our two-step composers an efficient tonic to bring +their vitality up to a high standard of activity. Nothing in it? Why, +Doctor, there's more in it that's in sight to-day that is promising and +suggestive of great things in the future than there was of the principle +of gravitation in the rude act of that historic pippin that left the +parent tree and swatted Sir Isaac Newton on the nose." + +"And the Drug Stores will be driven out of business, I presume," said +the Doctor. + +"No," said the Idiot. "They will substitute music for drugs, that is +all. Every man who can afford it will have his own medical phonograph or +music-box, and the drug stores will sell cylinders and records for them +instead of quinine, carbonate of soda, squills, paregoric and other +nasty tasting things they have now. This alone will serve to popularize +sickness and instead of being driven out of business their trade will +pick up." + +"And the Doctor? And the Doctor's gig and all the appurtenances of his +profession--what becomes of them?" demanded the Doctor. + +"We'll have to have the Doctor just the same to prescribe for us, only +he will have to be a musician, but the gig--I'm afraid that will have to +go," said the Idiot. + +"And why, pray?" asked the Doctor. "Because there are no more drugs must +the physician walk?" + +"Not at all," said the Idiot. "But he'd be better equipped if he drove +about in a piano-organ, or if he preferred an auto on a steam +calliope." + + + + +THE OCTOPUSSYCAT[4] + +BY KENYON COX + + + I love Octopussy, his arms are so long; + There's nothing in nature so sweet as his song. + 'Tis true I'd not touch him--no, not for a farm! + If I keep at a distance he'll do me no harm. + +[Footnote 4: From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.] + + + + +THE BOOK-CANVASSER + +ANONYMOUS + + +He came into my office with a portfolio under his arm. Placing it upon +the table, removing a ruined hat, and wiping his nose upon a ragged +handkerchief that had been so long out of the wash that it was +positively gloomy, he said,-- + +"Mr. ----, I'm canvassing for the National Portrait Gallery; very +valuable work; comes in numbers, fifty cents apiece; contains pictures +of all the great American heroes from the earliest times down to the +present day. Everybody subscribing for it, and I want to see if I can't +take your name. + +"Now, just cast your eyes over that," he said, opening his book and +pointing to an engraving. "That's--lemme see--yes, that's Columbus. +Perhaps you've heard sumfin' about him? The publisher was telling me +to-day before I started out that he discovered--no; was it Columbus that +dis--oh, yes, Columbus he discovered America,--was the first man here. +He came over in a ship, the publisher said, and it took fire, and he +stayed on deck because his father told him to, if I remember right, and +when the old thing busted to pieces he was killed. Handsome picture, +ain't it? Taken from a photograph; all of 'em are; done especially for +this work. His clothes are kinder odd, but they say that's the way they +dressed in them days. + +"Look at this one. Now, isn't that splendid? That's William Penn, one of +the early settlers. I was reading t'other day about him. When he first +arrived he got a lot of Indians up a tree, and when they shook some +apples down he set one on top of his son's head and shot an arrow plump +through it and never fazed him. They say it struck them Indians cold, he +was such a terrific shooter. Fine countenance, hasn't he? face shaved +clean; he didn't wear a moustache, I believe, but he seems to have let +himself out on hair. Now, my view is that every man ought to have a +picture of that patriarch, so's to see how the fust settlers looked and +what kind of weskets they used to wear. See his legs, too! Trousers a +little short, maybe, as if he was going to wade in a creek; but he's all +there. Got some kind of a paper in his hand, I see. Subscription-list, I +reckon. Now, how does that strike you? + +"There's something nice. That, I think is--is--that--a--a--yes, to be +sure, Washington; you recollect him, of course? Some people call him +Father of his Country. George--Washington. Had no middle name, I +believe. He lived about two hundred years ago, and he was a fighter. I +heard the publisher telling a man about him crossing the Delaware River +up yer at Trenton, and seems to me, if I recollect right, I've read +about it myself. He was courting some girl on the Jersey side, and he +used to swim over at nights to see her when the old man was asleep. The +girl's family were down on him, I reckon. He looks like a man to do +that, don't he? He's got it in his eye. If it'd been me I'd gone over on +a bridge; but he probably wanted to show off afore her; some men are so +reckless, you know. Now, if you'll conclude to take this I'll get the +publisher to write out some more stories, and bring 'em round to you, +so's you can study up on him. I know he did ever so many other things, +but I've forgot 'em; my memory's so awful poor. + +"Less see! Who have we next? Ah, Franklin! Benjamin Franklin! He was +one of the old original pioneers, I think. I disremember exactly what he +is celebrated for, but I think it was a flying a--oh, yes, flying a +kite, that's it. The publisher mentioned it. He was out one day flying a +kite, you know, like boys do nowadays, and while she was a-flickering up +in the sky, and he was giving her more string, an apple fell off a tree +and hit him on the head; then he discovered the attraction of +gravitation, I think they call it. Smart, wasn't it? Now, if you or me'd +'a' ben hit, it'd just made us mad, like as not, and set us a-ravin'. +But men are so different. One man's meat's another man's pison. See what +a double chin he's got. No beard on him, either, though a goatee would +have been becoming to such a round face. He hasn't got on a sword, and I +reckon he was no soldier; fit some when he was a boy, maybe, or went out +with the home-guard, but not a regular warrior. I ain't one myself, and +I think all the better of him for it. + +"Ah, here we are! Look at that! Smith and Pocahontas! John Smith! Isn't +that gorgeous? See how she kneels over him, and sticks out her hands +while he lays on the ground and that big fellow with a club tries to +hammer him up. Talk about woman's love! There it is for you. Modocs, I +believe; anyway, some Indians out West there, somewheres; and the +publisher tells me that Captain Shackanasty, or whatever his name is, +there, was going to bang old Smith over the head with a log of wood, and +this here girl she was sweet on Smith, it appears, and she broke loose, +and jumped forward, and says to the man with a stick, 'Why don't you let +John alone? Me and him are going to marry, and if you kill him I'll +never speak to you as long as I live,' or words like them, and so the +man he give it up, and both of them hunted up a preacher and were +married and lived happy ever afterward. Beautiful story, isn't it? A +good wife she made him, too, I'll bet, if she was a little +copper-colored. And don't she look just lovely in that picture? But +Smith appears kinder sick; evidently thinks his goose is cooked; and I +don't wonder, with that Modoc swooping down on him with such a +discouraging club. + +"And now we come to--to--ah--to--Putnam,--General Putnam: he fought in +the war, too; and one day a lot of 'em caught him when he was off his +guard, and they tied him flat on his back on a horse and then licked the +horse like the very mischief. And what does that horse do but go +pitching down about four hundred stone steps in front of the house, with +General Putnam lying there nearly skeered to death! Leastways, the +publisher said somehow that way, and I once read about it myself. But he +came out safe, and I reckon sold the horse and made a pretty good thing +of it. What surprises me is he didn't break his neck; but maybe it was a +mule, for they're pretty sure-footed, you know. Surprising what some of +these men have gone through, ain't it? + +"Turn over a couple of leaves. That's General Jackson. My father shook +hands with him once. He was a fighter, I know. He fit down in New +Orleans. Broke up the rebel legislature, and then when the Ku-Kluxes got +after him he fought 'em behind cotton breastworks and licked 'em till +they couldn't stand. They say he was terrific when he got real mad,--hit +straight from the shoulder, and fetched his man every time. Andrew his +fust name was; and look how his hair stands up. + +"And then here's John Adams, and Daniel Boone, and two or three pirates, +and a whole lot more pictures; so you see it's cheap as dirt. Lemme have +your name, won't you?" + + + + +HER VALENTINE + +BY RICHARD HOVEY + + + What, send her a valentine? Never! + I see you don't know who "she" is. + I should ruin my chances forever; + My hopes would collapse with a fizz. + + I can't see why she scents such disaster + When I take heart to venture a word; + I've no dream of becoming her master, + I've no notion of being her lord. + + All I want is to just be her lover! + She's the most up-to-date of her sex, + And there's such a multitude of her, + No wonder they call her complex. + + She's a bachelor, even when married, + She's a vagabond, even when housed; + And if ever her citadel's carried + Her suspicions must not be aroused. + + She's erratic, impulsive and human, + And she blunders,--as goddesses can; + But if _she's_ what they call the New Woman, + Then _I'd_ like to be the New Man. + + I'm glad she makes books and paints pictures, + And typewrites and hoes her own row, + And it's quite beyond reach of conjectures + How much further she's going to go. + + When she scorns, in the L-road, my proffer + Of a seat and hangs on to a strap; + I admire her so much, I could offer + To let her ride up on my lap. + + Let her undo the stays of the ages, + That have cramped and confined her so long! + Let her burst through the frail candy cages + That fooled her to think they were strong! + + She may enter life's wide vagabondage, + She may do without flutter or frill, + She may take off the chains of her bondage,-- + And anything else that she will. + + She may take _me_ off, for example, + And she probably does when I'm gone. + I'm aware the occasion is ample; + That's why I so often take on. + + I'm so glad she can win her own dollars + And know all the freedom it brings. + I love her in shirt-waists and collars, + I love her in dress-reform things. + + I love her in bicycle skirtlings-- + Especially when there's a breeze-- + I love her in crinklings and quirklings + And anything else that you please. + + I dote on her even in bloomers-- + If Parisian enough in their style-- + In fact, she may choose her costumers, + Wherever her fancy beguile. + + She may box, she may shoot, she may wrestle, + She may argue, hold office or vote, + She may engineer turret or trestle, + And build a few ships that will float. + + She may lecture (all lectures but curtain) + Make money, and naturally spend, + If I let her have _her_ way, I'm certain + She'll let me have _mine_ in the end! + + + + +THE WELSH RABBITTERN[5] + +BY KENYON COX + + + This is a very fearsome bird + Who sits upon men's chests at night. + With horrid stare his eyeballs glare: + He flies away at morning's light. + +[Footnote 5: From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright, 1904, by +Fox, Duffield & Co.] + + + + +COMIC MISERIES + +BY JOHN G. SAXE + + +I + + My dear young friend, whose shining wit + Sets all the room ablaze, + Don't think yourself "a happy dog," + For all your merry ways; + But learn to wear a sober phiz, + Be stupid, if you can, + It's such a very serious thing + To be a funny man! + + +II + + You're at an evening party, with + A group of pleasant folks,-- + You venture quietly to crack + The least of little jokes: + A lady doesn't catch the point, + And begs you to explain,-- + Alas for one who drops a jest + And takes it up again! + + +III + + You're taking deep philosophy + With very special force, + To edify a clergyman + With suitable discourse: + You think you've got him,--when he calls + A friend across the way, + And begs you'll say that funny thing + You said the other day! + + +IV + + You drop a pretty _jeu-de-mot_ + Into a neighbor's ears, + Who likes to give you credit for + The clever thing he hears, + And so he hawks your jest about, + The old, authentic one, + Just breaking off the point of it, + And leaving out the pun! + + +V + + By sudden change in politics, + Or sadder change in Polly, + You lose your love, or loaves, and fall + A prey to melancholy, + While everybody marvels why + Your mirth is under ban, + They think your very grief "a joke," + You're such a funny man! + + +VI + + You follow up a stylish card + That bids you come and dine, + And bring along your freshest wit + (To pay for musty wine); + You're looking very dismal, when + My lady bounces in, + And wonders what you're thinking of, + And why you don't begin! + + +VII + + You're telling to a knot of friends + A fancy-tale of woes + That cloud your matrimonial sky, + And banish all repose,-- + A solemn lady overhears + The story of your strife, + And tells the town the pleasant news:-- + You quarrel with your wife! + + +VIII + + My dear young friend, whose shining wit + Sets all the room ablaze, + Don't think yourself "a happy dog," + For all your merry ways; + But learn to wear a sober phiz, + Be stupid, if you can, + It's such a very serious thing + To be a funny man! + + + + +THE MERCHANT AND THE BOOK-AGENT + +ANONYMOUS + + +A book-agent importuned James Watson, a rich merchant living a few miles +out of the city, until he bought a book,--the "Early Christian Martyrs." +Mr. Watson didn't want the book, but he bought it to get rid of the +agent; then, taking it under his arm, he started for the train which +takes him to his office in the city. + +Mr. Watson hadn't been gone long before Mrs. Watson came home from a +neighbor's. The book-agent saw her, and went in and persuaded the wife +to buy a copy of the book. She was ignorant of the fact that her husband +had bought the same book in the morning. When Mr. Watson came back in +the evening, he met his wife with a cheery smile as he said, "Well, my +dear, how have you enjoyed yourself to-day? Well, I hope?" + +"Oh, yes! had an early caller this morning." + +"Ah, and who was she?" + +"It wasn't a 'she' at all; it was a gentleman,--a book-agent." + +"A what?" + +"A book-agent; and to get rid of his importuning I bought his book,--the +'Early Christian Martyrs.' See, here it is," she exclaimed, advancing +toward her husband. + +"I don't want to see it," said Watson, frowning terribly. + +"Why, husband?" asked his wife. + +"Because that rascally book-agent sold me the same book this morning. +Now we've got two copies of the same book,--two copies of the 'Early +Christian Martyrs,' and--" + +"But, husband, we can--" + +"No, we can't, either!" interrupted Mr. Watson. "The man is off on the +train before this. Confound it! I could kill the fellow. I--" + +"Why, there he goes to the depot now," said Mrs. Watson, pointing out of +the window at the retreating form of the book-agent making for the +train. + +"But it's too late to catch him, and I'm not dressed. I've taken off my +boots, and--" + +Just then Mr. Stevens, a neighbor of Mr. Watson, drove by, when Mr. +Watson pounded on the window-pane in a frantic manner, almost +frightening the horse. + +"Here, Stevens!" he shouted, "you're hitched up! Won't you run your +horse down to the train and hold that book-agent till I come? Run! Catch +'im now!" + +"All right," said Mr. Stevens, whipping up his horse and tearing down +the road. + +Mr. Stevens reached the train just as the conductor shouted, "All +aboard!" + +"Book-agent!" he yelled, as the book-agent stepped on the train. +"Book-agent, hold on! Mr. Watson wants to see you." + +"Watson? Watson wants to see me?" repeated the seemingly puzzled +book-agent. "Oh, I know what he wants: he wants to buy one of my books; +but I can't miss the train to sell it to him." + +"If that is all he wants, I can pay for it and take it back to him. How +much is it?" + +"Two dollars, for the 'Early Christian Martyrs,'" said the book-agent, +as he reached for the money and passed the book out of the car-window. + +Just then Mr. Watson arrived, puffing and blowing, in his +shirt-sleeves. As he saw the train pull out he was too full for +utterance. + +"Well, I got it for you," said Stevens,--"just got it, and that's all." + +"Got what?" yelled Watson. + +"Why, I got the book,--'Early Christian Martyrs,'--and paid--" + +"By--the--great--guns!" moaned Watson, as he placed his hands to his +brow and swooned right in the middle of the street. + + + + +THE COQUETTE + +_A Portrait_ + +BY JOHN G. SAXE + + + "You're clever at drawing, I own," + Said my beautiful cousin Lisette, + As we sat by the window alone, + "But say, can you paint a Coquette?" + + "She's painted already," quoth I; + "Nay, nay!" said the laughing Lisette, + "Now none of your joking,--but try + And paint me a thorough Coquette." + + "Well, cousin," at once I began + In the ear of the eager Lisette, + "I'll paint you as well as I can + That wonderful thing, a Coquette. + + "She wears a most beautiful face," + ("Of course!" said the pretty Lisette), + "And isn't deficient in grace, + Or else she were not a Coquette. + + "And then she is daintily made" + (A smile from the dainty Lisette), + "By people expert in the trade + Of forming a proper Coquette. + + "She's the winningest ways with the beaux," + ("Go on!"--said the winning Lisette), + "But there isn't a man of them knows + The mind of the fickle Coquette! + + "She knows how to weep and to sigh," + (A sigh from the tender Lisette), + "But her weeping is all in my eye,-- + Not that of the cunning Coquette! + + "In short, she's a creature of art," + ("Oh hush!" said the frowning Lisette), + "With merely the ghost of a heart,-- + Enough for a thorough Coquette. + + "And yet I could easily prove" + ("Now don't!" said the angry Lisette), + "The lady is always in love,-- + In love with herself,--the Coquette! + + "There,--do not be angry!--you know, + My dear little cousin Lisette, + You told me a moment ago + To paint _you_--a thorough Coquette!" + + + + +A SPRING FEELING + +BY BLISS CARMAN + + + I think it must be spring. I feel + All broken up and thawed. + I'm sick of everybody's "wheel"; + I'm sick of being jawed. + + I am too winter-killed to live, + Cold-sour through and through. + O Heavenly Barber, come and give + My soul a dry shampoo! + + I'm sick of all these nincompoops, + Who weep through yards of verse, + And all these sonneteering dupes + Who whine and froth and curse. + + I'm sick of seeing my own name + Tagged to some paltry line, + While this old _corpus_ without shame + Sits down to meat and wine. + + I'm sick of all these Yellow Books, + And all these Bodley Heads; + I'm sick of all these freaks and spooks + And frights in double leads. + + When good Napoleon's publisher + Was dangled from a limb, + He should have had an editor + On either side of him. + + I'm sick of all this taking on + Under a foreign name; + For when you call it _decadent_, + It's rotten just the same. + + I'm sick of all this puling trash + And namby-pamby rot,-- + A Pegasus you have to thrash + To make him even trot! + + An Age-end Art! I would not give, + For all their plotless plays, + One round Flagstaffian adjective + Or one Miltonic phrase. + + I'm sick of all this poppycock + In bilious green and blue; + I'm tired to death of taking stock + Of everything that's "New." + + New Art, New Movements, and New Schools, + All maimed and blind and halt! + And all the fads of the New Fools + Who can not earn their salt. + + I'm sick of the New Woman, too. + Good Lord, she's worst of all. + Her rights, her sphere, her point of view, + And all that folderol! + + She makes me wish I were the snake + Inside of Eden's wall, + To give the tree another shake, + And see another fall. + + I'm very much of Byron's mind; + I like sufficiency; + But just the common garden kind + Is good enough for me. + + I want to find a warm beech wood, + And lie down, and keep still; + And swear a little; and feel good; + Then loaf on up the hill, + + And let the Spring house-clean my brain, + Where all this stuff is crammed; + And let my heart grow sweet again; + And let the Age be damned. + + + + +WASTED OPPORTUNITIES[6] + +BY ROY FARRELL GREENE + + + The lips I might have tasted, rosy ripe as any cherry, + How they pair off by the dozens when my memory goes back + Across the current of the years aboard of Fancy's ferry, + Which shuns the shores of What-We-Have and touches What-We-Lack. + The girl I took t' singin'-school one night, who vowed she'd never + Before walked with a feller 'thout her mother bein' by, + I reckon that her temptin' mouth will haunt my dreams forever, + The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try! + + I recollect another girl, as chipper as a robin, + Who rode beside me in a sleigh one night through snow an' sleet, + An' both my hands I kept in use a guidin' good ol' Dobbin-- + One didn't need them any mor'n a chicken needs four feet. + Too scared was I to hold her in, or warm her cheeks with kisses,-- + I know, now, she expected it, for once I heard her sigh-- + To-day I'd like t' kick myself for these neglected blisses, + The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try. + + I never kissed Rebecca, she was sober as a Quaker, + I never kissed Alvira, though I took her home one night, + That city cousin of the Smiths, a Miss Myrtilla Baker, + Though scores of opportunities slipped by me, left an' right. + It makes me hate myself to-day when I on Fancy's ferry + Have crossed the current of the years to olden days gone by, + T' think of all the lips I've missed, ripe-red as topmost cherry, + The lips I might have tasted if I'd had the nerve t' try. + +[Footnote 6: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +THE WEDDIN' + +BY JENNIE BETTS HARTSWICK + + +Well, it's over, it's _all_ over--bein' the last to leave I know +_that_--and I declare, I'm that full of all the things we had to eat +that John and me won't want any supper for a good hour yet, so I just +ran in to tell you about it while it's on top of my mind. + +It's an everlastin' shame you had to miss it! One thing, though, you'll +get a trayful of the good things sent in to you, I shouldn't wonder. I +know there's loads left, for I happened to slip out to the kitchen for a +drink of water--I was that _dry_ after all those salty nuts, and I +didn't want to trouble 'em--and I saw just _heaps_ of things standin' +round. + +Most likely you'll get a good, large plate of cake, not just a pinchin' +little mite of a piece in a box. The boxes is real pretty, though, and +they did look real palatial all stacked up on a table by the front door +with a strange colored man, in white gloves like a pall-bearer, to hand +'em to you. + +How did I get two of 'em? Why, it just happened that way. You see, when +I was leavin' I missed my sun-shade and I laid my box down on the +hatrack-stand while I went upstairs to look for it. I went through all +the rooms, and just when I'd about given it up, why, there it was, right +in my hand all the time! Wasn't it foolish? And when I came downstairs I +found I'd clean forgot where I'd laid that box of cake. I hunted +_everywhere_, and then I just had to tell the man how 'twas, so he +handed me another one, and I was just walkin' out the front door when, +would you believe it! if there wasn't the _other_ one, just as innocent, +on the hatrack-stand where I had laid it. So now I have three of 'em, +countin' John's. + +I just can't seem to realize that Eleanor Jamison is married at last, +can you? She took her time if ever anybody did. They do say she was real +taken with that young college professor with the full beard and +spectacles that visited there last summer, and then to think that, after +all, she went and married a man with a smooth face. He wears glasses, +though; that's one point in common. + +Eleanor's gone off a good deal lately, don't you think so? You hadn't +noticed it? But then you never was any great hand at noticin', I've +noticed you weren't. Why, the other day when I was there offerin' to +help 'em get ready for the weddin' I noticed that she looked real +_worn_, and there was two or three little fine lines in her +eye-corners--not real _wrinkles_, of course--but we all know that lines +is a forerunner. Her hair's beginnin' to turn, too; I noticed that +comin' out of church last Sunday. I dare say her knowing this made her +less particular than she'd once have been; and after all, marryin' any +husband is a good deal like buyin' a new black silk dress pattern--an +awful risk. + +You may look at it on both sides and hold it up to the light, and pull +it to see if it'll fray and try if it'll spot, but you can't be sure +what it'll do till after you've worn it a spell. + +There's one advantage to the dress pattern, though--you can make 'em +take it back if you mistrust it won't wear--if you haven't cut into it, +that is--but when you've got a husband, why, you've _got_ him, to have +and to hold, for better and worse and good and all. + +Yes, I'm comin' to the weddin'--I declare, when I think how careless +Eleanor is about little things I can't help mistrusting what kind of a +housekeeper she'll turn out. Why, when John's and my invitation came it +was only printed to the church--there wasn't any reception card among +it. + +Now I've supplied Eleanor's folks with butter and eggs and spring +chickens for thirty years, and I'd just have gone anyway, for I knew it +was a mistake, but John held out that 'twasn't--that they didn't mean to +have us to the house part; so to settle it I went right over and told +'em. I told Eleanor she mustn't feel put out about it--we was all +mortal--and if it hadn't been for satisfyin' John I'd never have let her +know how careless she'd been--of course I'd made allowance, a weddin' +_is_ upsettin' to the intellect--and so 'twas all right. + +I had a real good view of the ceremony; but 'twasn't _their_ fault that +I had; it just happened that way. + +When John and me got there I asked the young man at the door--he was a +yusher and a stranger to me--to give us a front seat, but he said that +all the front places was reserved for the relations of the bride and +groom, and then I noticed that they'd tied off the middle aisle about +seven pews back with white satin ribbons and a big bunch of pink roses. +It seemed real impolite to invite folks to a weddin' and then take the +best seats themselves. + +Well, just then I happened to feel my shoelacin' gettin' loose and I +stepped to one side to fix it; and when I got up from stoopin' and my +gloves on and buttoned--I had to take 'em off to tie my shoe--and +straightened John's cravat for him, why, there was the families on both +sides just goin' in. + +Of course we had to follow right along behind 'em, and when we came up +to the ribbons--would you believe it?--the big bow just untied +itself--or seemed to--I heard afterward it was done by somebody pullin' +a invisible wire--and we all walked through and took seats. I made John +go into the pew ahead of me so's I could get out without disturbin' +anybody if I should have a headache or feel faint. + +When John found we was settin' with the family--he was right close up +against Eleanor's mother--he was for gettin' up and movin' back. But I +just whispered to him, "John Appleby, do sit still! I hear the bridal +party comin'!" + +Of course I didn't just _hear 'em_, but I was sure they'd be along in a +minute, and I knew it wouldn't do to move our seats anyway, as if we +weren't satisfied with 'em. + +The church was decorated beautiful. Eleanor's folks must have cleaned +out their green-house to put into it, besides _tons_ of greens from the +city. + +Pretty near the whole of Wrenville was there, and I must say the church +was a credit to the Wrenville dressmakers. + +I could pick out all their different fits without any trouble. + +There was Arabella Satterlee's--she shapes her backs like the top of a +coffin, or sometimes they remind me more of a kite; and Sallie Ann +Hodd's--she makes 'em square; and old Mrs. Tucker's--you can always tell +hers by the way the armholes draw; she makes the minister's wife's. But +they'd every one of 'em done their level best and I was proud of 'em. + +Well, when the organ--it had been playin' low and soft all the +time--changed off into the weddin' march and the bridesmaids, eight of +'em, marched up the aisle behind the eight yushers, I tell you, Miss +Halliday, it was a _sight_! + +They was all in pink gauzy stuff--I happened to feel one of 'em as she +went by but I couldn't tell what 'twas made of; it seemed dreadful +_flimsy_--and big flat hats all made of roses on their heads, and +carryin' bunches pf long-stemmed roses so big that they had to hold 'em +in their arms like young babes. + +Eleanor came behind 'em all, walkin' with her father. He always was a +small-built man, and with her long trail and her veil spreadin' out so, +why, I declare, you couldn't hardly see him. + +I whispered to John that they looked more as if Eleanor was goin' to +give her pa away than him her. + +Eleanor's dress was elegant, only awful _plain_. It was made in New York +at Greenleaf's. I know, because when I was upstairs lookin' for my +sunshade--I told you about that, didn't I?--I happened to get into +Eleanor's room by mistake, and there was the box it came in right on the +bed before my eyes. + +Well, when they was all past, I kept lookin' round me for the groom and +wonderin' how I had come to miss him, when all at once John nudged me, +and there he was right in front of me and the minister beginnin' to +marry 'em, and where he had sprung from I can't tell you this livin' +minute! + +Came in from the vestry, did he? Well, now, I never would have thought +of that! + +Well, when they was most married the most ridiculous thing happened. + +You see, Eleanor's father in steppin' back after givin' her away had put +his foot right down on her trail and never noticed, and when it came +time for the prayer Eleanor pulled and pulled--they was to kneel down on +two big white satin cushions in front of 'em--but her pa never +budged--just stood there with his eyes shut and his head bowed as +devout as anything--and before Eleanor could stop him, her husband--he +was most her husband, anyway--had kneeled right down on to the cushion, +with his eyes shut, too, I suppose, and the minister had to pray over +'em that way. I could see Eleanor's shoulders shakin' under her veil, +and of course it _was_ ridiculous if it hadn't been so solemn. + +And then they all marched down the aisle, with the bride and groom +leadin' the procession. Eleanor's veil was put back, and I noticed that +she was half-laughin' yet, and her cheeks were real pink, and her eyes +sort of bright and moist--she looked real handsome. Good gracious, Miss +Halliday, don't ever tell me that's six o'clock! And I haven't told a +thing about the presents, and who was there, and Eleanor's clothes, and +what they had to eat--why, they didn't even use their own china-ware! +They had a colored caterer from New York, and he brought everything--all +the dishes and table-cloths and spoons and forks, besides the +refreshments. I know, because just after he came I happened to carry +over my eleven best forks--John broke the dozenth tryin' to pry the cork +out of a bottle of raspberry vinegar the year we was married--I never +take a fork to pry with--and offered to loan 'em for the weddin', but +they didn't need 'em, so I just stayed a minute or two in the butler's +pantry and then went home--but I saw the caterer unpackin'. + +There! I knew I'd stay too long! There's John comin' in the gate after +me. I must go this blessed minute. + + + + +THE THOMPSON STREET POKER CLUB + +SOME CURIOUS POINTS IN THE NOBLE GAME UNFOLDED + +BY HENRY GUY CARLETON + + +When Mr. Tooter Williams entered the gilded halls of the Thompson Street +Poker Club Saturday evening it was evident that fortune had smeared him +with prosperity. He wore a straw hat with a blue ribbon, an expression +of serene content, and a glass amethyst on his third finger whose +effulgence irradiated the whole room and made the envious eyes of Mr. +Cyanide Whiffles stand out like a crab's. Besides these extraordinary +furbishments, Mr. Williams had his mustache waxed to fine points and his +back hair was precious with the luster and richness which accompany the +use of the attar of Third Avenue roses combined with the bear's grease +dispensed by basement barbers on that fashionable thoroughfare. + +In sharp contrast to this scintillating entrance was the coming of the +Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith, who had been disheveled by the heat, +discolored by a dusty evangelical trip to Coney Island, and oppressed by +an attack of malaria which made his eyes bloodshot and enriched his +respiration with occasional hiccoughs and that steady aroma which is +said to dwell in Weehawken breweries. + +The game began at eight o'clock, and by nine and a series of two-pair +hands and bull luck Mr. Gus Johnson was seven dollars and a nickel ahead +of the game, and the Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith, who was banking, was +nine stacks of chips and a dollar bill on the wrong side of the ledger. +Mr. Cyanide Whiffles was cheerful as a cricket over four winnings +amounting to sixty-nine cents; Professor Brick was calm, and Mr. Tooter +Williams was gorgeous and hopeful, and laying low for the first jackpot, +which now came. It was Mr. Whiffles's deal, and feeling that the eyes of +the world were upon him, he passed around the cards with a precision and +rapidity which were more to his credit than the I.O.U. from Mr. Williams +which was left over from the previous meeting. + +Professor Brick had nine high and declared his inability to make an +opening. + +Mr. Williams noticed a dangerous light come into the Reverend Mr. +Smith's eye and hesitated a moment, but having two black jacks and a +pair of trays, opened with the limit. + +"I liffs yo' jess tree dollahs, Toot," said the Reverend Mr. Smith, +getting out the wallet and shaking out a wad. + +Mr. Gus Johnson, who had a four flush and very little prudence, came in. +Mr. Whiffles sighed and fled. + +Mr. Williams polished the amethyst, thoroughly examining a scratch on +one of its facets, adjusted his collar, skinned his cards, stealthily +glanced again at the expression of the Reverend Mr. Smith's eye, and +said he would "Jess--jess call." + +Mr. Whiffles supplied the wants of the gentleman from the pack with the +mechanical air of a man who had lost all hope in a hereafter. Mr. +Williams wanted one card, the Reverend Mr. Smith said he'd take about +three, and Mr. Gus Johnson expressed a desire for a club, if it was not +too much trouble. + +Mr. Williams caught another tray, and, being secretly pleased, led out +by betting a chip. The Reverend Mr. Smith uproariously slammed down a +stack of blue chips and raised him seven dollars. + +Mr. Gus Johnson had captured the nine of hearts and so retired. + +Mr. Williams had four chips and a dollar left. + +"I sees dat seven," he said impressively, "an' I humps it ten mo'." + +"Whar's de c'lateral?" queried the Reverend Mr. Smith calmly, but with +aggressiveness in his eye. + +Mr. Williams sniffed contemptuously, drew off the ring, and deposited it +in the pot with such an air as to impress Mr. Whiffles with the idea +that the jewel must have been worth at least four million dollars. Then +Mr. Williams leaned back in his chair and smiled. + +"Whad yer goin' ter do?" asked the Reverend Mr. Smith, deliberately +ignoring Mr. Williams's action. + +Mr. Williams pointed to the ring and smiled. + +"Liff yo' ten dollahs." + +"On whad?" + +"Dat ring." + +"_Dat_ ring?" + +"Yezzah." Mr. Williams was still cool. + +"Huh!" The Reverend Mr. Smith picked the ring up, examined it +scientifically with one eye closed, dropped it several times as if to +test its soundness, and then walked across and rasped it several times +heavily on the window pane. + +"Whad yo' doin' dat for?" excitedly asked Mr. Williams. + +A double rasp with the ring was the Reverend Mr. Smith's only reply. + +"Gimme dat jule back!" demanded Mr. Williams. + +The Reverend Mr. Smith was now vigorously rubbing the setting of the +stone on the floor. + +"Leggo dat sparkler," said Mr. Williams again. + +The Reverend Mr. Smith carefully polished off the scratches by rubbing +the ring a while on the sole of his foot. Then he resumed his seat and +put the precious thing back into the pot. Then he looked calmly at Mr. +Williams, and leaned back in his chair as if waiting for something. + +"Is yo' satisfied?" said Mr. Williams, in the tone used by men who have +sustained a deep injury. + +"Dis is pokah," said the Reverend Mr. Thankful Smith. + +"I rised yo' ten dollahs," said Mr. Williams, pointing to the ring. + +"Did yer ever saw three balls hangin' over my do'?" asked the Reverend +Mr. Smith. "Doesn't yo' know my name hain't Oppenheimer?" + +"Whad yo' mean?" asked Mr. Williams excitedly. + +"Pokah am pokah, and dar's no 'casion fer triflin' wif blue glass 'n +junk in dis yar club," said the Reverend Mr. Smith. + +"I liffs yo' ten dollahs," said Mr. Williams, ignoring the insult. + +"Pud up de c'lateral," said the Reverend Mr. Smith. "Fo' chips is fohty, +'n a dollah's a dollah fohty, 'n dat's a dollah fohty-fo' cents." + +"Whar's de fo' cents?" smiled Mr. Williams, desperately. + +The Reverend Mr. Smith pointed to the ring. Mr. Williams rose +indignantly, shucked off his coat, hat, vest, suspenders and scarfpin, +heaped them on the table, and then sat down and glared at the Reverend +Mr. Smith. + +Mr. Smith rolled up the coat, put on the hat, threw his own out of the +window, gave the ring to Mr. Whiffles, jammed the suspenders into his +pocket, and took in the vest, chips and money. + +"Dis yar's buglry!" yelled Mr. Williams. + +The Reverend Mr. Smith spread out four eights and rose impressively. + +"Toot," he said, "doan trifle wif Prov'dence. Because a man wars +ten-cent grease 'n' gits his july on de Bowery, hit's no sign dat he kin +buck agin cash in a jacker 'n' git a boodle from fo' eights. Yo's now in +yo' shirt sleeves 'n' low sperrets, bud de speeyunce am wallyble. I'se +willin' ter stan' a beer an' sassenger, 'n' shake 'n' call it squar'. De +club'll now 'journ." + + + + +THE BUMBLEBEAVER[7] + +BY KENYON COX + + + A cheerful and industrious beast, + He's always humming as he goes + To make mud-houses with his tail + Or gather honey with his nose. + + Although he flits from flower to flower + He's not at all a gay deceiver. + We might take lessons by the hour + From busy, buzzy Bumblebeaver. + +[Footnote 7: From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.] + + + + +AFTER THE FUNERAL + +BY JAMES M. BAILEY + + +It was just after the funeral. The bereaved and subdued widow, enveloped +in millinery gloom, was seated in the sitting-room with a few +sympathizing friends. There was that constrained look so peculiar to the +occasion observable on every countenance. The widow sighed. + +"How do you feel, my dear?" said her sister. + +"Oh! I don't know," said the poor woman, with difficulty restraining her +tears. "But I hope everything passed off well." + +"Indeed it did," said all the ladies. + +"It was as large and respectable a funeral as I have seen this winter," +said the sister, looking around upon the others. + +"Yes, it was," said the lady from next door. "I was saying to Mrs. +Slocum, only ten minutes ago, that the attendance couldn't have been +better--the bad going considered." + +"Did you see the Taylors?" asked the widow faintly, looking at her +sister. "They go so rarely to funerals that I was surprised to see them +here." + +"Oh, yes! the Taylors were all here," said the sympathizing sister. "As +you say, they go but a little: they are _so_ exclusive!" + +"I thought I saw the Curtises also," suggested the bereaved woman +droopingly. + +"Oh, yes!" chimed in several. "They came in their own carriage, too," +said the sister, animatedly. "And then there were the Randalls and the +Van Rensselaers. Mrs. Van Rensselaer had her cousin from the city with +her; and Mrs. Randall wore a very black heavy silk, which I am sure was +quite new. Did you see Colonel Haywood and his daughters, love?" + +"I thought I saw them; but I wasn't sure. They were here, then, were +they?" + +"Yes, indeed!" said they all again; and the lady who lived across the +way observed: + +"The Colonel was very sociable, and inquired most kindly about you, and +the sickness of your husband." + +The widow smiled faintly. She was gratified by the interest shown by the +Colonel. + +The friends now rose to go, each bidding her good-by, and expressing the +hope that she would be calm. Her sister bowed them out. When she +returned, she said: + +"You can see, my love, what the neighbors think of it. I wouldn't have +had anything unfortunate to happen for a good deal. But nothing did. The +arrangements couldn't have been better." + +"I think some of the people in the neighborhood must have been surprised +to see so many of the uptown people here," suggested the afflicted +woman, trying to look hopeful. + +"You may be quite sure of that," asserted the sister. "I could see that +plain enough by their looks." + +"Well, I am glad there is no occasion for talk," said the widow, +smoothing the skirt of her dress. + +And after that the boys took the chairs home, and the house was put in +order. + + + + +CASEY AT THE BAT + +BY ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER + + + It looked extremely rocky for the Mudville nine that day: + The score stood four to six with just an inning left to play; + And so, when Cooney died at first, and Burrows did the same, + A pallor wreathed the features of the patrons of the game. + + A straggling few got up to go, leaving there the rest + With that hope that springs eternal within the human breast; + For they thought if only Casey could get one whack, at that + They'd put up even money, with Casey at the bat. + + But Flynn preceded Casey, and so likewise did Blake, + But the former was a pudding, and the latter was a fake; + So on that stricken multitude a death-like silence sat, + For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat. + + But Flynn let drive a single to the wonderment of all, + And the much-despised Blaikie tore the cover off the ball; + And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what had occurred, + There was Blaikie safe on second and Flynn a-hugging third! + + Then from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell, + It bounded from the mountain-top, and rattled in the dell, + It struck upon the hillside, and rebounded on the flat; + For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat. + + There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place, + There was pride in Casey's bearing, and a smile on Casey's face; + And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, + No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat. + + Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt, + Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt; + Then, while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, + Defiance glanced in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip. + + And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, + And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there; + Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped: + "That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said. + + From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, + Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore; + "Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted some one in the stand. + And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand. + + With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone; + He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on; + He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew, + But Casey still ignored it; and the umpire said, "Strike two." + + "Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered, "Fraud!" + But the scornful look from Casey, and the audience was awed; + They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, + And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again. + + The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched with hate; + He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate; + And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, + And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow. + + Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright, + The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, + And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; + But there is no joy in Mudville--mighty Casey has struck out. + + + + +THE MARTYRDOM OF MR. STEVENS[8] + +BY HERBERT QUICK + +_Pietro:_ Th' offense, it seemeth me, +Is one that by mercy's extremest stretch +Might be o'erpassed. + +_Cosimo:_ Never, Pietro, never! +The Brotherhood's honor untouchable +Is touch'd thereby. We build our labyrinth +Of sacred words and potent spells, and all +The deep-involved horrors of our craft-- +Its entrance hedg'd about with dreadful oaths, +And every step in thridding it made dank +By dripping terror and out-seeping awe, +Shall it be said that e'en Ludovico +May break our faith and live? Never, say I! + +--_Vision of Cosimo._ + + +The Bellevale lodge of the Ancient Order of Christian Martyrs held its +meetings in the upper story of a tall building. Mr. Alvord called for +Amidon at eight, and took him up, all his boldness in the world of +business replaced by wariness in the atmosphere of mystery. As he and +his companion went into an anteroom and were given broad collars from +which were suspended metal badges called "jewels," he felt a good deal +like a spy. They walked into the lodge-room where twenty-five or thirty +men with similar "jewels" sat smoking and chatting. All seemed to know +him, but (much to his relief) before he could be included in the +conversation, the gavel fell; certain ones with more elaborate "jewels" +and more ornate collars than the rest took higher-backed and more highly +upholstered chairs at the four sides of the room, another stood at the +door; and still another, in complete uniform, with sword and belt, began +hustling the members to seats. + +"The Deacon Militant," said the wielder of the gavel, "will report if +all present are known and tested members of our Dread and Mystic +Conclave." + +"All, Most Sovereign Pontiff," responded the Deacon Militant, who proved +to be the man in the uniform, "save certain strangers who appear within +the confines of our sacred basilica." + +"Let them be tested," commanded the Sovereign Pontiff, "and, if +brethren, welcomed; if spies, executed!" + +Amidon started, and looked about for aid or avenue of escape. Seeing +none, he warily watched the Deacon Militant. That officer, walking in +the military fashion which, as patristic literature teaches, was adopted +by the early Christians, and turning square corners, as was the habit of +St. Paul and the Apostles, received whispered passwords from the two or +three strangers, and, with a military salute, announced that all present +had been put to the test and welcomed. Then, for the first time +remembering that he was not among the strangers, so far as known to the +lodge, Amidon breathed freely, and rather regretted the absence of +executions. + +"Bring forth the Mystic Symbols of the Order!" was the next command. The +Mystic Symbols were placed on a stand in the middle of the room, and +turned out to be a gilt fish about the size of a four-pound bass, a jar +of human bones, and a rolled-up scroll said to contain the Gospels. The +fish, as explained by the Deacon Militant, typified a great many things +connected with early Christianity, and served always as a reminder of +the password of the order. The relics in the jar were the bones of +martyrs. The scroll was the Book of the Law. Amidon was becoming +impressed: the solemn and ornate ritual and the dreadful symbols sent +shivers down his inexperienced and unfraternal spine. Breaking in with +uninitiated eyes, as he had done, now seemed more and more a crime. + +There was an "Opening Ode," which was so badly sung as to mitigate the +awe; and an "order of business" solemnly gone through. Under the head +"Good of the Order" the visiting brethren spoke as if it were a +class-meeting and they giving "testimony," one of them very volubly +reminding the assembly of the great principles of the order, and the +mighty work it had already accomplished in ameliorating the condition of +a lost and wandering world. Amidon felt that he must have been very +blind in failing to note this work until it was thus forced on his +notice; but he made a mental apology. + +"By the way, Brassfield," said Mr. Slater during a recess preceding the +initiation of candidates, "you want to give Stevens the best you've got +in the Catacombs scene. Will you make it just straight ritual, or throw +in some of those specialities of yours?" + +"Stevens! Catacombs!" gasped Amidon, "specialties! I--" + +"I wish you could have been here when I was put through," went on Mr. +Slater. "I don't see how any one but a professional actor, or a person +with your dramatic gifts, can do that part at all--it's so sort of +ripping and--and intense, you know. I look forward to your rendition of +it with a good deal of pleasurable anticipation." + +"You don't expect me to do it, do you?" asked Amidon. + +"Why, who else?" was the counter-question. "We can't be expected to play +on the bench the best man in Pennsylvania in that part, can we?" + +"Come, Brassfield," said the Sovereign Pontiff, "get on your regalia for +the Catacombs. We are about to begin." + +"Oh, say, now!" said Amidon, trying to be off-hand about it, "you must +get somebody else." + +"What's that! Some one else? Very likely we shall! Very likely!" thus +the Sovereign Pontiff with fine scorn. "Come, the regalia, and no +nonsense!" + +"I--I may be called out at any moment," urged Amidon, amidst an outcry +that seemed to indicate a breach with the Martyrs then and there. "There +are reasons why--" + +Edgington took him aside. "Is there any truth in this story," said he, +"that you have had some trouble with Stevens, and discharged him?" + +"Oh, that Stevens!" gasped Amidon, as if the whole discussion had hinged +on picking out the right one among an army of Stevenses. "Yes, it's +true, and I can't help confer this--" + +Edgington whispered to the Sovereign Pontiff; and the announcement was +made that in the Catacombs scene Brother Brassfield would be excused and +Brother Bulliwinkle substituted. + +"I know I never, in any plane of consciousness, saw any of this, or knew +any of these things," thought Florian. "It is incredible!" + +Conviction, however, was forced on him by the fact that he was now made +to don a black domino and mask, and to march, carrying a tin-headed +spear, with a file of similar figures to examine the candidate, who +turned out to be the discharged Stevens, sitting in an anteroom, +foolish and apprehensive, and looking withal much as he had done in +the counting-room. He was now asked by the leader of the file, in a +sepulchral tone, several formal questions, among others whether he +believed in a Supreme Being. Stevens gulped, and said "Yes." He was then +asked if he was prepared to endure any ordeal to which he might be +subjected, and warned unless he possessed nerves of steel, he had better +turn back--for which measure there was yet time. Stevens, in a faint +voice, indicated that he was ready for the worst, and desired to go on. +Then all (except Amidon) in awesome accents intoned, "Be brave and +obedient, and all may yet be well!" and they passed back into the +lodge-room. Amidon was now thoroughly impressed, and wondered whether +Stevens would be able to endure the terrible trials hinted at. + +Clad in a white robe, "typifying innocence," and marching to minor music +played upon a piano, Stevens was escorted several times around the +darkened room, stopping from time to time at the station of some +officer, to receive highly improving lectures. Every time he was asked +if he were willing to do anything, or believed anything, he said "Yes." +Finally, with the Scroll of the Law in one hand, and with the other +resting on the Bones of Martyrs, surrounded by the brethren, whose drawn +swords and leveled spears threatened death, he repeated an obligation +which bound him not to do a great many things, and to keep the secrets +of the order. To Amidon it seemed really awful--albeit somewhat florid +in style; and when Alvord nudged him at one passage in the obligation, +he resented it as an irreverence. Then he noted that it was a pledge to +maintain the sanctity of the family circle of brother Martyrs, and +Alvord's reference of the night before to the obligation as affecting +his association with the "strawberry blonde" took on new and fearful +meaning. + +Stevens seemed to be vibrating between fright and a tendency to laugh, +as the voice of some well-known fellow citizen rumbled out from behind a +deadly weapon. He was marched out, to the same minor music, and the +first act was ended. + +The really esoteric part of it, Amidon felt, was to come, as he could +see no reason for making a secret of these very solemn and edifying +matters. Stevens felt very much the same way about it, and was full of +expectancy when informed that the next degree would test his obedience. +He highly resolved to obey to the letter. + +The next act disclosed Stevens hoodwinked, and the room light. He was +informed that he was in the Catacombs, familiar to the early Christians, +and must make his way alone and in darkness, following the Clue of Faith +which was placed in his hands. This Clue was a white cord similar to the +sort used by masons (in the building-trades). He groped his way along by +it to the station of the next officer, who warned him of the deadly +consequences of disobedience. Thence he made his way onward, holding to +the Clue of Faith--until he touched a trigger of some sort, which let +down upon him an avalanche of tinware and such light and noisy articles, +which frightened him so that he started to run, and was dexteriously +tripped by the Deacon Militant and a spearman, and caught in a net held +by two others. A titter ran about the room. + +"Obey," thundered the Vice-Pontiff, "and all will be well!" + +Stevens resumed the Clue. At the station of the next officer to whom it +brought him, the nature of faith was explained to him, and he was given +the password, "Ichthus," whispered so that all in that part of the room +could hear the interdicted syllables. But he was adjured never, never to +utter it, unless to the Guardian of the Portal on entering the lodge, to +the Deacon Militant on the opening thereof, or to a member, when he, +Stevens, should become Sovereign Pontiff. Then he was faced toward the +Vice-Pontiff, and told to answer loudly and distinctly the questions +asked him. + +"What is the lesson inculcated in this Degree?" asked the Vice-Pontiff +from the other end of the room. + +"Obedience!" shouted Stevens in reply. + +"What is the password of this Degree?" + +"Ichthus!" responded Stevens. + +A roll of stage-thunder sounded deafeningly over his head. The piano was +swept by a storm of bass passion; and deep cries of "Treason! Treason!" +echoed from every side. Poor Stevens tottered, and fell into a chair +placed by the Deacon Militant. He saw the enormity of the deed of shame +he had committed. He had told the password! + +"You have all heard this treason," said the Sovereign Pontiff, in the +deepest of chest-tones--"a treason unknown in all the centuries of the +past! What is the will of the conclave?" + +"I would imprecate on the traitor's head," said a voice from one of the +high-backed chairs, "the ancient doom of the Law!" + +"Doom, doom!" said all in unison, holding the "oo" in a most +blood-curdling way. "Pronounce doom!" + +"One fate, and one alone," pronounced the Sovereign Pontiff, "can be +yours. Brethren, let him forthwith be encased in the Chest of the +Clanking Chains, and hurled from the Tarpeian Rock, to be dashed in +fragments at its stony base!" + +Amidon's horror was modified by the evidences of repressed glee with +which this sentence was received. Yet he felt a good deal of concern as +they brought out a great chest, threw the struggling Stevens into it, +slammed down the ponderous lid and locked it. Stevens kicked at the lid, +but said nothing. The members leaped with joy. A great chain was brought +and wrapped clankingly about the chest. + +"Let me out," now yelled the Christian Martyr. "Let me out, damn you!" + +"Doom, do-o-o-oom!" roared the voices; and said the Sovereign Pontiff in +impressive tones, "Proceed with the execution!" + +Now the chest was slung up to a hook in the ceiling, and gradually drawn +back by a pulley until it was far above the heads of the men, the chains +meanwhile clanking continually against the receptacle, from which came +forth a stream of smothered profanity. + +"Hurl him down to the traitor's death!" shouted the Sovereign Pontiff. +The chest was loosed, and swung like a pendulum lengthwise of the room, +down almost to the floor and up nearly to the ceiling. The profanity now +turned into a yell of terror. The Martyrs slapped one another's backs +and grew blue in the face with laughter. At a signal, a light box was +placed where the chest would crush it (which it did with a sound like a +small railway collision); the chest was stopped and the lid raised. + +"Let the body receive Christian burial," said the Sovereign Pontiff. +"Our vengeance ceases with death." + +This truly Christian sentiment was received with universal approval. +Death seemed to all a good place at which to stop. + +"Brethren," said the Deacon Militant, as he struggled with the resurgent +Stevens, "there seems some life here! Methinks the heart beats, and--" + +The remainder of the passage from the ritual was lost to Amidon by +reason of the fact that Stevens had placed one foot against the Deacon's +stomach and hurled that august officer violently to the floor. + +"Let every test of life be applied," said the Sovereign Pontiff. +"Perchance some higher will than ours decrees his preservation. Take the +body hence for a time; if possible, restore him to life, and we will +consider his fate." + +The recess which followed was clearly necessary to afford an opportunity +for the calming of the risibilities of the Martyrs. The stage, too, had +to be reset. Amidon's ethnological studies had not equaled his reading +in _belles-lettres_, and he was unable to see the deep significance of +these rites from an historical standpoint, and that here was a survival +of those orgies to which our painted and skin-clad ancestors devoted +themselves in spasms of religious frenzy, gazed at by the cave-bear and +the mammoth. The uninstructed Amidon regarded them as inconceivable +horse-play. While thus he mused, Stevens, who was still hoodwinked and +being greatly belectured on the virtue of Faith and the duty of +Obedience, reentered on his ordeal. + +He was now informed by the officer at the other end of the room that +every man must ascend into the Mountains of Temptation and be tested, +before he could be pronounced fit for companionship with Martyrs. +Therefore, a weary climb heavenward was before him, and a great trial of +his fidelity. On his patience, daring and fortitude depended all his +future in the Order. He was marched to a ladder and bidden to ascend. + +"I," said the Deacon Militant, "upon this companion stair will accompany +you." + +But there was no other ladder and the Deacon Militant had to stand upon +a chair. + +Up the ladder labored Stevens, but, though he climbed manfully, he +remained less than a foot above the floor. The ladder went down like a +treadmill, as Stevens climbed--it was an endless ladder rolled down on +Stevens' side and up on the other. The Deacon Militant, from his perch +on the chair, encouraged Stevens to climb faster so as not to be +outstripped. With labored breath and straining muscles he climbed, the +Martyrs rolling on the floor in merriment all the more violent because +silent. Amidon himself laughed to see this strenuous climb, so +strikingly like human endeavor, which puts the climber out of breath, +and raises him not a whit--except in temperature. At the end of perhaps +five minutes, when Stevens might well have believed himself a hundred +feet above the roof, he had achieved a dizzy height of perhaps six feet, +on the summit of a stage-property mountain, where he stood beside the +Deacon Militant, his view of the surrounding plain cut off by +papier-mache clouds, and facing a foul fiend, to whom the Deacon +Militant confided that here was a candidate to be tested and qualified. +Whereupon the foul fiend remarked "Ha, ha!" and bade them bind him to +the Plutonian Thunderbolt and hurl him down to the nether world. The +thunderbolt was a sort of toboggan on rollers, for which there was a +slide running down presumably to the nether world, above mentioned. + +The hoodwink was removed, and Stevens looked about him, treading warily, +like one on the top of a tower; the great height of the mountain made +him giddy. Obediently he lay face downward on the thunderbolt, and +yielded up his wrists and ankles to fastenings provided for them. + +"They're not going to lower him with those cords, are they?" + +It was a stage-whisper from the darkness which spake thus. + +"Oh, I guess it's safe enough!" said another, in the same sort of +agitated whisper. + +"Safe!" was the reply. "I tell you, it's sure to break! Some one stop +'em--" + +To the heart of the martyred Stevens these words struck panic. But as he +opened his mouth to protest, the catastrophe occurred. There was a snap, +and the toboggan shot downward. Bound as he was, the victim could see +below him a brick wall right across the path of his descent. He was +helpless to move; it was useless to cry out. For all that, as he felt in +imagination the crushing shock of his head driven like a battering-ram +against this wall, he uttered a roar such as from Achilles might have +roused armed nations to battle. And even as he did so, his head touched +the wall, there was a crash, and Stevens lay safe on a mattress after +his ten-foot slide, surrounded by fragments of red-and-white paper which +had lately been a wall. He was pale and agitated, and generally done +for; but tremendously relieved when he had assured himself of the +integrity of his cranium. This he did by repeatedly feeling of his head, +and looking at his fingers for sanguinary results. As Amidon looked at +him, he repented of what he had done to this thoroughly maltreated +fellow man. After the Catacombs scene, which was supposed to be +impressive, and some more of the "secret" work, everybody crowded about +Stevens, now invested with the collar and "jewel" of Martyrhood, and +laughed, and congratulated him as on some great achievement, while he +looked half-pleased and half-bored. Amidon, with the rest, greeted him, +and told him that after his vacation was over, he hoped to see him back +at the office. + +"That was a fine exemplification of the principles of the Order," said +Alvord as they went home. + +"What was?" said Amidon. + +"Hiring old Stevens back," answered Alvord. "You've got to live your +principles, or they don't amount to much." + +"Suppose some fellow should get into a lodge," asked Amidon, "who had +never been initiated?" + +"Well," said Alvord, "there isn't much chance of that. I shouldn't dare +to say. You can't tell what the fellows would do when such sacred things +were profaned, you know. You couldn't tell what they might do!" + +[Footnote 8: From _Double Trouble_. It should be explained that Mr. +Amidon is suffering from dual consciousness and in his other state is +known as Eugene Brassfield. As the supposed Brassfield he has gone, +while in his Amidon state of consciousness, to a meeting of the lodge to +which as Brassfield he belongs.] + + + + +THE WILD BOARDER[9] + +BY KENYON COX + + + His figure's not noted for grace; + You may not much care for his face; + But a twenty-yard dash, + When he hears the word "hash," + He can take at a wonderful pace. + +[Footnote 9: From "Mixed Beasts," by Kenyon Cox. Copyright 1904, by Fox, +Duffield & Co.] + + + + +DE GRADUAL COMMENCE + +BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY + + + Oui, Oui, M'sieu, I'm mos' happee, + My ches' wid proud expan', + I feel de bes' I evere feel, + An' over all dis lan' + Dere's none set op so moch as me; + You'll know w'en I am say + My leddle daughter Madeline + Is gradual to-day. + + She is de ver' mos' smartes' gairl + Dat I am evere know, + I'm fin' dis out, de teacher, he + Is tol' me dat is so; + She is so smart dat she say t'ings + I am no understan', + She is know more dan any one + Dat leeve on ol' Ste. Anne. + + De Gradual Commence is hol' + Down at de gr'ad beeg hall, + W'ere plaintee peopl' can gat seat + For dem to see it all. + De School Board wid dere presi_dent_, + Dey sit opon front row, + Dey look so stiff an' dignify, + For w'at I am not know. + + De classe dat mak' de "gradual" + Dey're on de stage, you see, + In semi-cirque dat face de peop', + Some scare as dey can be; + Den wan of dem dey all mak' spe'k, + Affer de nodder's t'roo, + Dis tak' dem 'bout t'ree hour an' half + De hull t'ing for to do. + + Ma Madeline she is all feex op, + Mos' beautiful to see, + In nice w'ite drass, my wife he buy + Overe to Kankakee. + An' when she rise to mak' de spe'k + How smart she look on face, + Dey all expec' somet'ing dey hear, + Dere's hush fall on de place. + + She tell us how to mak' de leeve, + How raise beeg familee; + She tell it all so smood an' plain + Dat you can't help but see; + An' how she learn her all of dat + Ees more dan I can say, + But she is know it, for she talk + In smartes' kind of way. + + W'en all is t'roo de presi_dent_ + De sheepskin he geeve 'way; + Dey're all nice print opon dem, + An' dis is w'at dey say: + "To dem dat is concern' wid dese + Pres_ents_ you onderstan' + De h'owner dese; is gradual + At High School on Ste. Anne." + + An' now dat she is gradual + She ees know all about + De world an' how to mak' it run + From inside to de out; + For dis is one de primere t'ings + W'at she is learn, you see, + Dat long beeg word I can pronounce, + It's call philosophee. + + An' you can' blame me if I am + Ver' proud an' puff op so, + To hav' a daughter like dis wan + Dat's everyt'ing she know. + No wonder dat I gat beeg head, + My hat's too small, dey say-- + Ma leddle daughter Madeline + Is gradual to-day. + + + + +ABOU BEN BUTLER + +BY JOHN PAUL + + + Abou, Ben Butler (may his tribe be less!) + Awoke one night from a deep bottledness, + And saw, by the rich radiance of the moon, + Which shone and shimmered like a silver spoon, + A stranger writing on a golden slate + (Exceeding store had Ben of spoons and plate), + And to the stranger in his tent he said: + "Your little game?" The stranger turned his head, + And, with a look made all of innocence, + Replied: "I write the name of Presidents." + "And is mine one?" "Not if this court doth know + Itself," replied the stranger. Ben said, "Oh!" + And "Ah!" but spoke again: "Just name your price + To write me up as one that may be Vice." + + The stranger up and vanished. The next night + He came again, and showed a wondrous sight + Of names that haply yet might fill the chair-- + But, lo! the name of Butler was not there! + + + + +LATTER-DAY WARNINGS + +BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES + + + When legislators keep the law, + When banks dispense with bolts and locks,-- + When berries--whortle, rasp, and straw-- + Grow bigger _downwards_ through the box,-- + + When he that selleth house or land + Shows leak in roof or flaw in right,-- + When haberdashers choose the stand + Whose window hath the broadest light,-- + + When preachers tell us all they think, + And party leaders all they mean,-- + When what we pay for, that we drink, + From real grape and coffee-bean,-- + + When lawyers take what they would give, + And doctors give what they would take,-- + When city fathers eat to live, + Save when they fast for conscience' sake,-- + + When one that hath a horse on sale + Shall bring his merit to the proof, + Without a lie for every nail + That holds the iron on the hoof,-- + + When in the usual place for rips + Our gloves are stitched with special care, + And guarded well the whalebone tips + Where first umbrellas need repair,-- + + When Cuba's weeds have quite forgot + The power of suction to resist, + And claret-bottles harbor not + Such dimples as would hold your fist,-- + + When publishers no longer steal, + And pay for what they stole before,-- + When the first locomotive's wheel + Rolls through the Hoosac tunnel's bore;-- + + _Till_ then let Cumming blaze away, + And Miller's saints blow up the globe; + But when you see that blessed day, + _Then_ order your ascension robe! + + + + +IT PAYS TO BE HAPPY[10] + +BY TOM MASSON + + + She is so gay, so very gay, + And not by fits and starts, + But ever, through each livelong day + She's sunshine to all hearts. + + A tonic is her merry laugh! + So wondrous is her power + That listening grief would stop and chaff + With her from hour to hour. + + Disease before that cheery smile + Grows dim, begins to fade. + A Christian scientist, meanwhile, + Is this delightful maid. + + And who would not throw off dull care + And be like unto her, + When happiness brings, as her share, + One hundred dollars per ----? + +[Footnote 10: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +JAMES AND REGINALD + +BY EUGENE FIELD + + +Once upon a Time there was a Bad boy whose Name was Reginald and there +was a Good boy whose Name was James. Reginald would go Fishing when his +Mamma told him Not to, and he Cut off the Cat's Tail with the Bread +Knife one Day, and then told Mamma the Baby had Driven it in with the +Rolling Pin, which was a Lie. James was always Obedient, and when his +Mamma told him not to Help an old Blind Man across the street or Go into +a Dark Room where the Boogies were, he always Did What She said. That is +why they Called him Good James. Well, by and by, along Came Christmas. +Mamma said, You have been so Bad, my son Reginald, you will not Get any +Presents from Santa Claus this Year; but you, my son James, will get +Oodles of Presents, because you have Been Good. Will you Believe it, +Children, that Bad boy Reginald said he didn't Care a Darn and he Kicked +three Feet of Veneering off the Piano just for Meanness. Poor James was +so sorry for Reginald that he cried for Half an Hour after he Went to +Bed that Night. Reginald lay wide Awake until he saw James was Asleep +and then he Said if these people think they can Fool me, they are +Mistaken. Just then Santa Claus came down the Chimney. He had Lots of +Pretty Toys in a Sack on his Back. Reginald shut his Eyes and Pretended +to be Asleep. Then Santa Claus Said, Reginald is Bad and I will not Put +any nice Things in his Stocking. But as for you, James, I will Fill +your Stocking Plum full of Toys, because You are Good. So Santa Claus +went to Work and Put, Oh! heaps and Heaps of Goodies in James' stocking, +but not a Sign of a Thing in Reginald's stocking. And then he Laughed to +himself and Said I guess Reginald will be Sorry to-morrow because he Was +so Bad. As he said this he Crawled up the chimney and rode off in his +Sleigh. Now you can Bet your Boots Reginald was no Spring Chicken. He +just Got right Straight out of Bed and changed all those Toys and Truck +from James' stocking into his own. Santa Claus will Have to Sit up all +Night, said He, when he Expects to get away with my Baggage. The next +morning James got out of Bed and when He had Said his Prayers he Limped +over to his Stocking, licking his chops and Carrying his Head as High as +a Bull going through a Brush Fence. But when he found there was Nothing +in his stocking and that Reginald's Stocking was as Full as Papa Is when +he comes home Late from the Office, he Sat down on the Floor and began +to Wonder why on Earth he had Been such a Good boy. Reginald spent a +Happy Christmas and James was very Miserable. After all, Children, it +Pays to be Bad, so Long as you Combine Intellect with Crime. + + + + +BANTY TIM + +REMARKS OF SERGEANT TILMON JOY TO THE WHITE MAN'S COMMITTEE OF SPUNKY +POINT, ILLINOIS + +BY JOHN HAY + + + I reckon I git your drift, gents,-- + You 'low the boy sha'n't stay; + This is a white man's country; + You're Dimocrats, you say; + And whereas, and seein', and wherefore, + The times bein' all out o' j'int, + The nigger has got to mosey + From the limits o' Spunky P'int! + + Le's reason the thing a minute: + I'm an old-fashioned Dimocrat too, + Though I laid my politics out o' the way + For to keep till the war was through. + But I come back here, allowin' + To vote as I used to do, + Though it gravels me like the devil to train + Along o' sich fools as you. + + Now dog my cats ef I kin see, + In all the light of the day, + What you've got to do with the question + Ef Tim shill go or stay. + And furder than that I give notice, + Ef one of you tetches the boy, + He kin check his trunks to a warmer clime + Than he'll find in Illanoy. + + Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me! + You know that ungodly day + When our left struck Vicksburg Heights, how ripped + And torn and tattered we lay. + When the rest retreated I stayed behind, + Fur reasons sufficient _to_ me,-- + With a rib caved in, and a leg on a strike, + I sprawled on that cursed glacee. + + Lord! how the hot sun went for us, + And br'iled and blistered and burned! + How the Rebel bullets whizzed round us + When a cuss in his death-grip turned! + Till along toward dusk I seen a thing + I couldn't believe for a spell: + That nigger--that Tim--was a crawlin' to me + Through that fire-proof, gilt-edged hell! + + The Rebels seen him as quick as me, + And the bullets buzzed like bees; + But he jumped for me, and shouldered me, + Though a shot brought him once to his knees; + But he staggered up, and packed me off, + With a dozen stumbles and falls, + Till safe in our lines he drapped us both, + His black hide riddled with balls. + + So, my gentle gazelles, thar's my answer, + And here stays Banty Tim: + He trumped Death's ace for me that day, + And I'm not goin' back on him! + You may rezoloot till the cows come home, + But ef one of you tetches the boy, + He'll wrastle his hash to-night in hell, + Or my name's not Tilmon Joy! + + + + +EVENING + +_By A Tailor_ + +BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES + + + Day hath put on his jacket, and around + His burning bosom buttoned it with stars. + Here will I lay me on the velvet grass, + That is like padding to earth's meager ribs, + And hold communion with the things about me. + Ah me! how lovely is the golden braid + That binds the skirt of night's descending robe! + The thin leaves, quivering on their silken threads, + Do make a music like to rustling satin, + As the light breezes smooth their downy nap. + + Ha! what is this that rises to my touch, + So like a cushion? Can it be a cabbage? + It is, it is that deeply injured flower, + Which boys do flout us with;--but yet I love thee, + Thou giant rose, wrapped in a green surtout. + Doubtless in Eden thou didst blush as bright + As these, thy puny brethren; and thy breath + Sweetened the fragrance of her spicy air; + But now thou seemest like a bankrupt beau, + Stripped of his gaudy hues and essences, + And growing portly in his sober garments. + + Is that a swan that rides upon the water? + O no, it is that other gentle bird, + Which is the patron of our noble calling. + I well remember, in my early years, + When these young hands first closed upon a goose; + I have a scar upon my thimble finger, + Which chronicles the hour of young ambition. + My father was a tailor, and his father, + And my sire's grandsire, all of them were tailors; + They had an ancient goose,--it was an heirloom + From some remoter tailor of our race. + It happened I did see it on a time + When none was near, and I did deal with it, + And it did burn me,--O, most fearfully! + + It is a joy to straighten out one's limbs, + And leap elastic from the level counter, + Leaving the petty grievances of earth, + The breaking thread, the din of clashing shears, + And all the needles that do wound the spirit, + For such a pensive hour of soothing silence. + Kind Nature, shuffling in her loose undress, + Lays bare her shady bosom;--I can feel + With all around me;--I can hail the flowers + That sprig earth's mantle,--and yon quiet bird, + That rides the stream, is to me as a brother. + The vulgar know not all the hidden pockets, + Where Nature stows away her loveliness. + But this unnatural posture of the legs + Cramps my extended calves, and I must go + Where I can coil them in their wonted fashion. + + + + +THE OLD SETTLER + +_His Reasons for Thinking there is Natural Gas in Deep Rock Gulley_ + +BY ED. MOTT + + +"I see by the papers, Squire," said the Old Settler, "that they're +a-finding signs o' coal ile an' nat'ral gas like sixty here an' thar in +deestric's not so terrible fur from here, an' th't konsekently land they +usety beg folks to come an' take offen their hands at any price at all +is wuth a dollar now, jist for a peep over the stun wall at it. The +minute a feller finds signs o' ile or nat'ral gas on his plantation he +needn't lug home his supplies in a quart jug no more, but kin roll 'em +in by the bar'l, fer signs o' them kind is wuth more an inch th'n a +sartin-per-sure grass an' 'tater farm is wuth an acre." + +"Guess yer huggin' the truth pooty clus fer wunst, Major," replied the +Squire, "but th' hain't none o' them signs ez likely to strike anywhar +in our bailiwick ez lightnin' is to kill a crow roostin' on the North +Pole. Thuz one thing I've alluz wanted to see," continued the Squire, +"but natur' has ben agin me an' I hain't never seen it, an' that thing +is the h'istin' of a balloon. Th' can't be no balloons h'isted nowhar, +I'm told, 'nless thuz gas to h'ist it with. I s'pose if we'd ha' had gas +here, a good many fellers with balloons 'd ha' kim 'round this way an' +showed us a balloon raisin' ev'ry now an' then. Them must be lucky +deestric's that's got gas, an' I'd like to hev somebody strike it 'round +here some'rs, jist fer the sake o' havin' the chance to see a balloon +h'istin' 'fore I turn my toes up. But that's 'bout ez liable to happen +ez it is fer to go out an' find a silver dollar rollin' up hill an' my +name gouged in it." + +"Don't ye be so consarned sure o' that, Squire," said the Old Settler +mysteriously, and with a knowing shake of his head. "I've been +a-thinkin' a leetle sence readin' 'bout them signs o' gas, b'gosh! I +hain't been only thinkin', but I've been a-recollectin', an' the chances +is th't me an' you'll see wonders yet afore we paddle over Jurdan. I'm +a-gointer tell ye fer w'y, but I hadn't orter, Squire, an' if it wa'n't +fer makin' ye 'shamed o' yerself, an' showin' th't truth squashed in the +mud is bound to git up agin if ye give her time, I wouldn't do it. Ye +mowt remember th't jist ten years ago this month I kim in from a leetle +b'ar hunt. I didn't bring in no b'ar, but I fotched back an up-an'-up +account o' how I had shot one, on' how th' were sumpin' fearful an' +queer an' amazin' in the p'formances o' that b'ar arter bein' shot. +Mebby ye 'member me a-tellin' ye that story, Squire, an' you a-tellin' +me right in my teeth th't ye know'd th't some o' yer friends had took to +lyin', but th't ye didn't think any of 'em had it so bad ez that. But I +hain't a-holdin' no gredge, an' now I'll tell ye sumpin' that'll s'prise +ye. + +"Ez I tol' ye at the time, Squire, I got the tip ten year ago this +month, th't unless somebody went up to Steve Groner's hill place an' +poured a pound or two o' lead inter a big b'ar th't had squatted on tha' +farm, th't Steve wouldn't hev no live-stock left to pervide pork an' +beef fer his winterin' over, even if he managed to keep hisself an' +fam'ly theirselfs from linin' the b'ar's innards. I shouldered my gun +an' went up to Steve's to hev some fun with bruin, an' to save Steve's +stock, an' resky him an' his folks from the rampagin' b'ar. + +"'He's a rip-snorter,' Steve says to me, w'en I got thar. 'He don't +think nuthin' o' luggin' off a cow,' he says, 'an' ye don't wanter hev +yer weather eye shet w'en you an' him comes together,' he says. + +"'B'ars,' I says to Steve, 'b'ars is nuts fer me, an' the bigger an' +sassier they be,' I says, 'the more I inj'y 'em,' I says, an' with that +I clim' inter the woods to show bruin th't th' wa'n't room enough here +below fer me an' him both. Tain't necessary fer me to tell o' the +half-dozen or more lively skrimmages me an' that b'ar had ez we follered +an' chased one another round an' round them woods--how he'd hide ahind +some big tree or stumps, an' ez I went by, climb on to me with all four +o' his feet an' yank an' bite an' claw an' dig meat an' clothes offen me +till I slung him off an' made him skin away to save his bacon; an' how +I'd lay the same way fer him, an' w'en he come sneakin' 'long arter me +agin, pitch arter him like a mad painter, an' swat an' pound an' choke +an' rassel him till his tongue hung out, till I were sorry for him, an' +let him git away inter the brush agin to recooperate fer the next round. +'Tain't wuth w'ile fer me to say anything 'bout them little skrimmages +'cept the last un, an' that un wa'n't a skrimmage but sumpin' that'd 'a' +skeert some folks dead in their tracks. + +"Arter havin' a half-dozen or so o' rassels with this big b'ar, jist fer +fun, I made up my mind, ez 'twere gettin' late, an' ez Steve Groner's +folks was mebby feelin' anxious to hear which was gointer run the farm, +them or the b'ar, th't the next heat with bruin would be for keeps. I +guess the ol' feller had made up his mind the same way, fer w'en I run +agin him the las' time, he were riz up on his hind legs right on the +edge o' Deep Rock Gulley, and were waitin' fer me with his jaws wide +open. I unslung my gun, an' takin' aim at one o' the b'ar's forepaws, +thought I'd wing him an' make him come away from the edge o' the gulley +'fore I tackled him. The ball hit the paw, an' the b'ar throw'd 'em both +up. But he throw'd 'em up too fur, an' he fell over back'rd, an' went +head foremost inter the gulley. Deep Rock Gulley ain't an inch less'n +fifty foot from top to bottom, an' the walls is ez steep ez the side of +a house. I went up to the edge an' looked over. Ther' were the b'ar +layin' on his face at the bottom, whar them queer cracks is in the +ground, an' he were a-howlin' like a hurricane and kickin' like a mule. +Ther' he laid, and he wa'n't able to rise up. Th' wa'n't no way o' +gettin' down to him 'cept by tumblin' down ez he had, an' if ever +anybody were poppin' mad I were, ez I see my meat a-layin' at the bottom +o' that gulley, an' the crows a-getherin' to hev a picnic with it. The +more I kept my eyes on that b'ar the madder I got, an' I were jist about +to roll and tumble an' slide down the side o' that gulley ruther than go +back home an' say th't I'd let the crows steal a b'ar away from me, w'en +I see a funny change comin' over the b'ar. He didn't howl so much, and +his kicks wa'n't so vicious. Then his hind parts began to lift themse'fs +up offen the ground in a cur'ous sort o' way, and swung an' bobbed in +the air. They kep' raisin' higher an' higher, till the b'ar were +act'ally standin' on his head, an' swayin' to and fro ez if a wind were +blowin' him an' he couldn't help it. The sight was so oncommon out o' +the reg'lar way b'ars has o' actin' that it seemed skeery, an' I felt ez +if I'd ruther be home diggin' my 'taters. But I kep' on gazin' at the +b'ar a-circusin' at the bottom o' the gulley, an 't wa'n't long 'fore +the hull big carcase begun to raise right up offen the ground an' come +a-floatin' up outen the gulley, fer all the world ez if 't wa'n't more'n +a feather. The b'ar come up'ards tail foremost, an' I noticed th't he +looked consid'able puffed out like, makin' him seem lik' a bar'l +sailin' in the air. Ez the b'ar kim a-floatin' out o' the dep's I could +feel my eyes begin to bulge, an' my knees to shake like a jumpin' +jack's. But I couldn't move no more'n a stun wall kin, an' thar I stood +on the edge o' the gulley, starin' at the b'ar ez it sailed on up to'rd +me. The b'ar were making a desper't effort to git itself back to its +nat'ral p'sition on all fours, but th' wa'n't no use, an' up he sailed, +tail foremost, an' lookin' ez if he were gointer bust the next minute, +he were swelled out so. Ez the b'ar bobbed up and passed by me I could +ha' reached out an' grabbed him by the paw, an' I think he wanted me to, +the way he acted, but I couldn't ha' made a move to stop him, not if +he'd ha' ben my gran'mother. The b'ar sailed on above me, an' th' were a +look in his eyes th't I won't never fergit. It was a skeert look, an' a +look that seemed to say th't it were all my fault, an' th't I'd be sorry +fer it some time. The b'ar squirmed an' struggled agin comin' to setch +an' onheerdon end, but up'ard he went, tail foremost, to'ard the clouds. + +"I stood thar par'lyzed w'ile the b'ar went up'ard. The crows that had +been settlin' round in the trees, 'spectin' to hev a bully meal, went to +flyin' an' scootin' around the onfortnit b'ar, an' yelled till I were +durn nigh deef. It wa'n't until the b'ar had floated up nigh onto a +hundred yards in the air, an' begun to look like a flyin' cub, that my +senses kim back to me. Quick ez a flash I rammed a load inter my rifle, +wrappin' the ball with a big piece o' dry linen, not havin' time to tear +it to the right size. Then I took aim an' let her go. Fast ez the ball +went, I could see that the linen round it had been sot on fire by the +powder. The ball overtook the b'ar and bored a hole in his side. Then +the funniest thing of all happened. A streak o' fire a yard long shot +out o' the b'ar's side where the bullet had gone in, an' ez long ez +that poor bewitched b'ar were in sight--fer o' course I thort at the +time th't the b'ar were bewitched--I could see that streak o' fire +sailin' along in the sky till it went out at last like a shootin' star. +I never knowed w'at become o' the b'ar, an' the hull thing were a +startlin' myst'ry to me, but I kim home, Squire, an' tol' ye the story, +jest ez I've tol' ye now, an' ye were so durn polite th't ye said I were +a liar. But sence, I've been a-thinkin' an' recollectin'. Squire, I +don't hold no gredge. The myst'ry's plain ez day, now. We don't want no +better signs o' gas th'n th't, do we, Squire?" + +"Than what?" said the Squire. + +"Than what!" exclaimed the Old Settler. "Than that b'ar, o' course! +That's w'at ailed him. It's plain enough th't thuz nat'ral gas on the +Groner place, an' th't it leaks outen the ground in Deep Rock Gulley. +Wen that b'ar tumbled to the bottom that day, he fell on his face. He +were hurt so th't he couldn't get up. O' course the gas didn't shut +itself off, but kep' on a-leakin' an' shot up inter the b'ar's mouth and +down his throat. The onfortnit b'ar couldn't help hisself, an' bimby he +were filled with gas like a balloon, till he had to float, an' away he +sailed, up an' up an' up. Wen I fired at the b'ar, ez he was floatin' +to'ard the clouds, the linen on the bullet carried fire with it, an' +w'en the bullet tapped the b'ar's side the burnin' linen sot it on fire, +showin' th't th' can't be no doubt 'bout it bein' gas th't the b'ar +swallered in Deep Rock Gulley. So ye see, Squire, I wa'n't no liar, an' +the chances is all in favor o' your seein' a balloon h'isted from gas +right in yer own bailiwick afore ye turn up yer toes." + +The Squire gazed at the Old Settler in silent amazement for a minute or +more. Then he threw up his hands and said: + +"Wal--I'll--be--durned!" + + + + +VERRE DEFINITE + +BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY + + + It' verre long, long tam', ma frien', + I'm leeve on Bourbonnais, + I'm keep de gen'rale merchandise, + I'm prom'nent man, dey say; + I'm sell mos' every t'ing dere ees, + From sulky plow to sock, + I don' care w'at you ask me for, + You'll fin' it in my stock. + + Las' w'ek dere was de _petite fille_ + Of ma frien', Gosse, he com' + Into ma shop to get stock_ing_, + She want to buy her som'; + She was herself not verre ol', + Near twelve year, I suppose; + She com' to me an' say, "M'sieu, + I wan' to buy som' hose." + + I always mak' de custom rule, + No matter who it ees, + To be polite an' eloquent + In transack of ma beez; + I say to her, "For who you wan' + Dese stockings to be wear?" + She say she need wan pair herself, + Also for small bruddere. + + She say her bruddere's eight years ol' + An' coming almos' nine, + An' I am twelve, mos' near t'irteen, + Dat size will do for mine: + An' modder she will tak' beeg pair, + She weigh 'bout half a ton, + She wan' de size of forty year + Go_ing_ on forty-one. + + + + +THE TALKING HORSE + +BY JOHN T. McINTYRE + + +Upon a fence across the way was posted a "twenty-four sheet block +stand," and along the top, in big red letters, it read: + +"_H. Wellington Sheldon Presents_" + +Then followed the names of a half dozen famous operatic stars. + +Bat Scranton sat regarding it silently for a long time; but after he had +placed himself behind his third big cigar he joined in the talk. + +"In fifteen years dubbing about this great and glorious," said he, "I +never run across a smoother piece of goods than old Cap. Sheldon. To see +him, now, in his plug hat, frock coat and white English whiskers, you'd +spot him as the main squeeze in a prosperous bank. He's doing the +Frohman stunt, too," and Bat nodded toward the poster, "and he handles +it with exceeding grace. When I see him after the curtain falls upon a +bunch of Verdi or Wagner stuff, come out and bow his thanks to a house +full of the town's swellest, and throw out a little spiel with an +aristocratic accent, I always think of the time when I first met him. + +"Were any of you ever in Langtry, Ohio? Well, never take a chance on it +if there is anywhere else to go. It's a tank town with a community of +seven hundred of the tightest wads that ever sunk a dollar into the toe +of a sock. There was a fair going on in the place, and I blew in there +one September day; my turn just then was taking orders for crayon +portraits of rural gentlemen with horny hands and plenty of chin fringe. +I figure it out that about sixty per cent. of the parlors in the middle +west are adorned with one or more of these works of art, but Langtry, +Ohio, would not listen to the proposition for a moment; as soon as they +discovered that I wasn't giving the stuff away they sort of lost +interest in me and mine; so I began to study the time-table and kick off +the preliminary dust of the burg, preparatory to seeking a new base of +operations. + +"As I made my way to the station I caught my first glimpse of Cap. +Sheldon. He had a satchel hanging from around his neck and was winsomely +wrapping ten dollar notes up with small cylinders of soap and offering +to sell them at one dollar a throw. + +"'How are they going,' says I. + +"'Not at all,' says he. 'There's nothing to it that I can see. The breed +and seed of Solomon himself must have camped down in this section; they +are the wisest lot I ever saw herd together. Instead of chewing straws +and leaning over fences after the customary and natural manner of +ruminates, they pike around with a calm, cold-blooded sagacity that is +truly awesome. It's me to pull out as soon as I can draw expenses.' + +"The next time Cap. dawned upon my vision was a year afterward, down in +Georgia. He was doing the ballyho oration in front of a side wall circus +in a mellifluous style that was just dragging the tar heels up to the +entrance. + +"'It's a little better than the Ohio gag,' says he, 'but I've seen +better, at that. I had a good paying faro outfit in Cincinnati since I +met you, but the police got sore because I wouldn't cut the takings in +what they considered the right place, so they closed me up.' + +"During the next five years I met Cap. in every section of the country, +and handling various propositions. In San Francisco I caught him in the +act of selling toy balloons on a street corner; in Chicago he was +disposing of old line life insurance with considerable effect; at a +county fair, somewhere in Iowa, I ran across him as he gracefully +manipulated the shells. + +"But Cap. did not break permanently into the show business until he +coupled up with the McClintock in Milwaukee. Mac was an Irish +Presbyterian, and was proud of it; he came out of the Black North and +was the most acute harp, mentally, that I had ever had anything to do +with. The Chosen People are not noted for commercial density; but a Jew +could enter Mac's presence attired in the height of fashion and leave it +with only his shoe strings and a hazy recollection as to how the thing +was done. + +"Now, when a team like Cap. and Mac took to pulling together, there just +naturally had to be something doing. They began with a small show under +canvas, and their main card was a twenty-foot boa-constrictor, which +they billed as 'Mighty Mardo.' Then they had a boy with three legs, one +of which they neglected to state was made of wood; also a blushing +damsel with excess embonpoint to the extent of four hundred pounds. With +this outfit they campaigned for one season; in the fall they bought a +museum in St. Louis and settled themselves as impresarios. + +"Now, in my numerous meetings with Cap. I had never thought to ask his +name, so when I saw an 'ad' in the _Clipper_ stating that Sheldon & +McClintock was in need of a good full-toned lecturer that doubled in +brass, I just sat me down in my ignorance and dropped them a line. They +sent me a ticket to where I was sidetracked up in Michigan, and I +hurried down. + +"'Oh, it's you, is it?' says Cap., as I piked into the ten by twelve +office and announced myself. 'Well, I've heard you throw a spiel and +think you'll do. But I didn't know that you played brass. What's your +instrument?' + +"Now, I had a faint sentiment from the beginning that this clause in +their bill of requirements would get me into trouble, for I knew no more +about band music than a he goat knows about the book of common prayer. + +"'I do the cymbals,' says I. + +"'What!' snorts Cap., rearing up; 'I thought you wrote that you played +brass?' + +"'Well,' says I, 'ain't cymbals brass?' + +"It must have been my cold nerve that won Cap.'s regard, for he placed +me as 'curio hall' lecturer and advertising man at twenty a week. + +"The museum of Sheldon & McClintock proved to be a great notch. More +fake freaks were thought out, worked up and exhibited during the course +of that winter season than I would care to count. Then there was a small +theater attached in which they put on very bad specialties and where +painful-voiced young men and women warbled sentimental ballads about +their childhood homes and stuff of that character. These got about ten +dollars a week and had to do about thirty turns a day; they lived in +their make-up and got so accustomed to grease paint before the end of +their engagements that they felt only half dressed without it. + +"The trick made money, and in about a year McClintock cut loose and went +into a patent promoting scheme. + +"Shortly afterward the first 'continuous house' was opened in St. Louis, +and the novelty of the thing was a body blow to Cap. He made a good +fight, but lost money every day; and at last he imparted to me in +confidence that if business did not improve he could see himself getting +out the shells and limbering up on them preparatory to going out and +facing the world once more. + +"'The bank will stand for three hundred thousand dollars' worth more of +my checks,' says he, 'and after they're used up I'm done.' + +"He began to cut down expenses with the reckless energy of a man who saw +the poor-house looming ahead for him; the results was that his bad shows +grew worse, and the attendance wasn't enough to dust off the seats. The +biggest item of expense about the place was 'Mighty Mardo,' the +boa-constrictor; his diet was live rabbits, and a twenty-foot snake with +a body as thick as a four-inch pipe can dispose of good and plenty of +them when he takes the notion. Cap. began to feed him live rats, and the +mighty one soon began to show the effects of it. + +"'He'll die on you,' says I to Cap. one day. + +"'Let him,' says he; 'the rabbits stay cut out.' + +"One day a fellow came along with a high-schooled horse that he wanted +to sell. He had more use for ready money just then than he had for the +nag, so he offered to put it in cheap. But Cap. waved him away. + +"'I'll need the money to buy meals with before long,' says he to the +fellow, 'so tempt me not to my going hungry.' + +"This little incident seemed to make the old man feel bad; he locked +himself up in the office for four hours or so communing with his inner +self; but when he came out he was looking bright and gay. + +"'Say,' says he, 'I've changed my mind and just bought that horse.' + +"'I didn't see the man come back,' says I. + +"'I made the deal over the 'phone,' says Cap. Then he pushes a thick wad +of penciled stuff at me. 'Here's some truck I want you to take over to +the printing house,' he goes on. 'When it's out and up the brute will be +well known.' + +"I takes a look over the copy, and my hat was lifted two inches straight +off my head. The first one read something like this: + +ADMIRAL + +THE TALKING HORSE + +TALKS LIKE A HUMAN BEING +VOCAL ORGANS DEVELOPED LIKE THOSE OF +A MAN +HEAR HIM SING THE BASS SOLO +"DOWN IN THE DEPTHS" + +TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS + +TO ANY ONE PROVING THESE CLAIMS +FAKE IN THE SLIGHTEST DEGREE + +"'Reads good, don't it?' asks Cap., sort of beaming through his +nose-pinzes. 'But give a look at the others.' + +"The next one was as bad as the first: + +ADMIRAL!!! + +THE HORSE WHO RECITES +THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE +IN A DEEP BASS VOICE +AND WITH PERFECT ENUNCIATION + +"'I didn't hear the fellow say the skate could do that kind of stuff,' +says I, just a bit dazed, after looking over a lot more of it. + +"'He only handed it to me as a sort of last card,' says Cap., 'and +that's what made me change my mind about buying him. Get five thousand +twelve sheets in yellow and red; ten thousand three sheets; fifteen +thousand block one sheets with cut of the horse. And you can place an +order for as many black and white dodgers as they can turn out between +this and the end of the week. It's a big card and we're going into it up +to our eyebrows.' + +"If I had had time to consider anything but hustling, I might have +thought the thing was a fake. But it was the old man's game and I left +him to do the worrying. I threw rush orders into the printers and soon +had the presses banging away on the stuff desired. + +"Next day Cap. started a four-inch double-column notice in every paper +in town. I hired an army of distributers and began to put out the +dodgers as they came hot off the bat; then I got a couple of Guinea +bands, put them in open wagons, done up with painted muslin +announcements, and sent them forth to tear off the melody and otherwise +delight the eye and ear of the town. As the big stuff came off the press +it was slapped up on every blank wall and fence in the city that wasn't +under guard; and when the job was finished, St. Louis fairly glared with +it. If there was a person who hadn't heard of the Talking Horse by the +end of the week, they must have been deaf, dead or in jail. + +"The nag was to make his first appearance on Monday, and the last sheet +of paper had been put up and the last hand bill disposed of by Saturday +afternoon. + +"'How does she look?' says Cap. to me when I came in. + +"'Great,' says I. 'If they ain't tearing the place down to get in on +Monday, why my bump of prophecy has a dent in it.' + +"'Let 'em come,' says Cap., looking very much tickled. 'We need the +money and we ain't turning nobody away. The horse has reached town and +will be brought around to-morrow morning; so you make it a point to be +on hand to let it and the handler in.' + +"I was around bright and early on Sunday morning, and along comes the +horse. He was got up in the swellest horse stuff I ever saw--beaded +blankets of plush and silk, with his name embroidered on them, and all +that kind of goods. The handler was a husky with one lamp and a bad one +at that. + +"'Where do I put him?' says he. + +"'On the top floor,' says I. 'We've got planks on the stairs and a +rigging fixed to haul him up by.' + +"When we got him safely landed and the glad coverings off, I looked him +over. + +"'His intellect must sort of tell on him, don't it?' asks I. + +"'Why, he is some under weight,' says the fellow in charge. + +"'He don't look over-bright to me,' I goes on. + +"'He never does on Sundays,' the husky comes back. 'It's sort of an off +day with him.' + +"Then I went out to lunch and stayed about two hours; when I got back I +found a gang of cops and things buzzing all over the place. Cap. was in +the office, his plug hat on the back of his head and a cigar in his +mouth. + +"'What's the trouble?' says I. + +"'Had a hell of a time around here,' says he. 'I was called up on the +'phone and got down as soon as I could. Just take an observation of that +fellow over there.' + +"The fellow referred to was the handler of the Talking Horse. His left +arm was done up in splints and bandaged from finger-tips to shoulder, +and he had a clump of reporters around him about six feet thick. + +"'What hit him?' asks I. + +"'About everything on the top floor,' says Cap., solemnly. 'The Talking +Horse is dead. Mighty Mardo broke out of his showcase about an hour ago, +took a couple of half hitches around the Admiral and crushed him to +death.' + +"'Go 'way!' says I. + +"'Sure thing,' says Cap. 'Come up stairs and have a look.' + +"We went up and did so. The place was a wreck; the horse was the deadest +I ever saw and the constrictor was still twined about him. + +"'Why, the snake's passed out, too,' says I. + +"Cap. folds his hands meekly across his breast in a resigned sort of +way. + +"'Yes,' says he; 'he, too, was killed in the dreadful struggle. He must +have went straight for the Admiral as soon as he got loose. The handler +was down in the office, alone, when the uproar started; he came jumping +upstairs six steps to the jump and when he sees Mardo putting in that +bunch of body holds on his intelligent charge, why, he took a hand. The +result was a dead snake for me and a crippled wing for him. When I got +here, Doc. Forbes was tying him up,' Cap. goes on rather sorrowful like; +'and when I sees what's happened, I know that I'm a ruined man. So I +'phones for the police and reporters to come down and view my finish.' + +"From the way he talked I expected to see him carted home before the +hour was up; but he wasn't. As soon as the newspaper fellows cleared out +with all the facts of the case in their note-books, Cap. sends for a +fellow and puts him right to work fixing up the horse and snake so's +they'll keep, and then lays them out. + +"Next morning the newspapers slopped over with scare headlines telling +of the battle. According to their way of looking at it, the struggles in +the arena of old Rome were scared to death in comparison, and modern +times did not come anywhere near showing a parallel of the combat +between the terrible constrictor and the horse with the human voice. The +result of this was that when the time came to open the doors at noon we +had to have a squad of police to keep the mob from blocking traffic for +squares around. Cap. had changed and doubled the size of his ads. over +night. + +"The horse was done up in a big black coffin covered with flowers; and +the lid with his name, age and wonderful accomplishment engraved upon a +plate stood beside him. The remains of Mighty Mardo, stuffed with baled +hay and excelsior, were embracing the dead Admiral with monster coils; +and the crowds came, gazed, and marveled; then they went forth to tell +their friends that they might come and do likewise. + +"For weeks the coin came into the box like a spring freshet in the hill +country, and Cap. must have kept the bank working after hours; at any +rate, he sat around and smoked with a smile so angelic, that, to look at +him, one wondered how he could wear it and not drift away into the +ethereal blue. It was a good month before the thing lost its pulling +power, and when it stopped Cap. had planted the stake that boosted him +into the company he now keeps and set him to handling voices that cost +thousands of simoleons an hour. + +"When all was over, I found time to take the husky, with the damaged +fin out and throw a few drinks into him. Then he told me the whole +story. + +"'The old man didn't think you could do the thing justice if you were +wise,' says he, 'so he kept you out. This ain't the horse the fellow +offered to sell him, at all. He bought it at a bazar for ten dollars, +the day before I brought it around. When you went out for lunch Cap. he +comes in. We done for the plug in a minute, and as Mighty Marda was all +but gone, on account of his rat diet, we finished him, too. Then we +wrecked the place up some, took a couple of turns about the horse with +Mardo, called in Doc. Forbes, who stood in, to fix up the fictitious +fracture, and then rung in the show.' + +"Yes," observed Bat, thoughtfully, after a pause, "I've made up my mind +that H. Wellington Sheldon is a wise plug." + + + + +THE OWL-CRITIC + +BY JAMES T. FIELDS + + + "Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop, + The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop; + The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading + The "Daily," the "Herald," the "Post," little heeding + The young man who blurted out such a blunt question; + Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion; + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "Don't you see, Mr. Brown," + Cried the youth, with a frown, + "How wrong the whole thing is, + How preposterous each wing is + How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is-- + In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis! + I make no apology; + I've learned owl-eology. + I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections, + And can not be blinded to any deflections + Arising from unskilful fingers that fail + To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail. + Mister Brown! Mister Brown! + Do take that bird down, + Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "I've _studied_ owls, + And other night-fowls, + And I tell you + What I know to be true; + An owl can not roost + With his limbs so unloosed; + No owl in this world + Ever had his claws curled, + Ever had his legs slanted, + Ever had his bill canted, + Ever had his neck screwed + Into that attitude. + He can't _do_ it, because + 'Tis against all bird-laws. + Anatomy teaches, + Ornithology preaches, + An owl has a toe + That _can't_ turn out so! + I've made the white owl my study for years, + And to see such a job almost moves me to tears! + Mr. Brown, I'm amazed + You should be so gone crazed + As to put up a bird + In that posture absurd! + To _look_ at that owl really brings on a dizziness; + The man who stuffed _him_ don't half know his business!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "Examine those eyes. + I'm filled with surprise + Taxidermists should pass + Off on you such poor glass; + So unnatural they seem + They'd make Audubon scream, + And John Burroughs laugh + To encounter such chaff. + Do take that bird down; + Have him stuffed again, Brown!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "With some sawdust and bark + I could stuff in the dark + An owl better than that. + I could make an old hat + Look more like an owl + Than that horrid fowl, + Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather. + In fact, about _him_ there's not one natural feather." + + Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch, + The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch, + Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic + (Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic, + And then fairly hooted, as if he should say: + "Your learning's at fault _this_ time, anyway; + Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray. + I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good day!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + + + +THE MOSQUITO + +BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT + + + Fair insect! that, with thread-like legs spread out, + And blood-extracting bill, and filmy wing, + Dost murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about, + In pitiless ears, fall many a plaintive thing, + And tell how little our large veins should bleed + Would we but yield them to thy bitter need. + + Unwillingly, I own, and, what is worse, + Full angrily, men listen to thy plaint; + Thou gettest many a brush and many a curse, + For saying thou art gaunt, and starved, and faint. + Even the old beggar, while he asks for food, + Would kill thee, hapless stranger, if he could. + + I call thee stranger, for the town, I ween, + Has not the honor of so proud a birth: + Thou com'st from Jersey meadows, fresh and green, + The offspring of the gods, though born on earth; + For Titan was thy sire, and fair was she, + The ocean-nymph that nursed thy infancy. + + Beneath the rushes was thy cradle swung, + And when at length thy gauzy wings grew strong, + Abroad to gentle airs their folds were flung, + Rose in the sky and bore thee soft along; + The south wind breathed to waft thee on thy way, + And danced and shone beneath the billowy bay. + + Calm rose afar the city spires, and thence + Came the deep murmur of its throng of men, + And as its grateful odors met thy sense, + They seemed the perfumes of thy native fen. + Fair lay its crowded streets, and at the sight + Thy tiny song grew shriller with delight. + + At length thy pinion fluttered in Broadway,-- + Ah, there were fairy steps, and white necks kissed + By wanton airs, and eyes whose killing ray + Shone through the snowy veils like stars through mist; + And fresh as morn, on many a cheek and chin, + Bloomed the bright blood through the transparent skin. + + Sure these were sights to tempt an anchorite! + What! do I hear thy slender voice complain? + Thou wailest when I talk of beauty's light, + As if it brought the memory of pain. + Thou art a wayward being--well, come near, + And pour thy tale of sorrow in mine ear. + + What say'st thou, slanderer! rouge makes thee sick? + And China Bloom at best is sorry food? + And Rowland's Kalydor, if laid on thick, + Poisons the thirsty wretch that bores for blood? + Go! 'twas a just reward that met thy crime; + But shun the sacrilege another time. + + That bloom was made to look at,--not to touch; + To worship, not approach, that radiant white; + And well might sudden vengeance light on such + As dared, like thee, most impiously to bite. + Thou shouldst have gazed at distance, and admired,-- + Murmured thy admiration and retired. + + Thou'rt welcome to the town; but why come here + To bleed a brother poet, gaunt like thee? + Alas! the little blood I have is dear, + And thin will be the banquet drawn from me. + Look round: the pale-eyed sisters in my cell, + Thy old acquaintance, Song and Famine, dwell. + + Try some plump alderman, and suck the blood + Enriched by generous wine and costly meat; + On well-filled skins, sleek as thy native mud, + Fix thy light pump, and press thy freckled feet. + Go to the men for whom, in ocean's halls, + The oyster breeds and the green turtle sprawls. + + There corks are drawn, and the red vintage flows, + To fill the swelling veins for thee, and now + The ruddy cheek and now the ruddier nose + Shall tempt thee, as thou flittest round the brow; + And when the hour of sleep its quiet brings, + No angry hand shall rise to brush thy wings. + + + + +"TIDDLE-IDDLE-IDDLE-IDDLE-BUM! BUM!" + +BY WILBUR D. NESBIT + + + When our town band gets on the square + On concert night you'll find me there. + I'm right beside Elijah Plumb, + Who plays th' cymbals an' bass drum; + An' next to him is Henry Dunn, + Who taps the little tenor one. + I like to hear our town band play, + But, best it does, I want to say, + Is when they tell a tune's to come + With + "Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle- + Bum-Bum!" + + O' course, there's some that likes the tunes + Like _Lily Dale_ an' _Ragtime Coons_; + Some likes a solo or duet + By Charley Green--B-flat cornet-- + An' Ernest Brown--th' trombone man. + (An' they can play, er no one can); + But it's the best when Henry Dunn + Lets them there sticks just cut an' run, + An' 'Lijah says to let her hum + With + "Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle- + Bum-Bum!" + + I don't know why, ner what's the use + O' havin' that to interduce + A tune--but I know, as fer me + I'd ten times over ruther see + Elijah Plumb chaw with his chin, + A-gettin' ready to begin, + While Henry plays that roll o' his + An' makes them drumsticks fairly sizz, + Announcin' music, on th' drum, + With + "Tiddle-iddle-iddle-iddle- + Bum-Bum!" + + + + +MY FIRST CIGAR + +BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE + + + 'Twas just behind the woodshed, + One glorious summer day, + Far o'er the hills the sinking sun + Pursued his westward way; + And in my safe seclusion + Removed from all the jar + And din of earth's confusion + I smoked my first cigar. + + It was my first cigar! + It was the worst cigar! + Raw, green and dank, hide-bound and rank + It was my first cigar! + + Ah, bright the boyish fancies + Wrapped in the smoke-wreaths blue; + My eyes grew dim, my head was light, + The woodshed round me flew! + Dark night closed in around me-- + Black night, without a star-- + Grim death methought had found me + And spoiled my first cigar. + + It was my first cigar! + A six-for-five cigar! + No viler torch the air could scorch-- + It was my first cigar! + + All pallid was my beaded brow, + The reeling night was late, + My startled mother cried in fear, + "My child, what have you ate?" + I heard my father's smothered laugh, + It seemed so strange and far, + I knew he knew I knew he knew + I'd smoked my first cigar! + + It was my first cigar! + A give-away cigar! + I could not die--I knew not why-- + It was my first cigar! + + Since then I've stood in reckless ways, + I've dared what men can dare, + I've mocked at danger, walked with death, + I've laughed at pain and care. + I do not dread what may befall + 'Neath my malignant star, + No frowning fate again can make + Me smoke my first cigar. + + I've smoked my first cigar! + My first and worst cigar! + Fate has no terrors for the man + Who's smoked his first cigar! + + + + +SHONNY SCHWARTZ + +BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS + + + Haf you seen mine leedle Shonny,-- + Shonny Schwartz,-- + Mit his hair so soft und yellow, + Und his face so blump und mellow; + Sooch a funny leedle fellow,-- + Shonny Schwartz? + + Efry mornings dot young Shonny-- + Shonny Schwartz-- + Rises mit der preak off day, + Und does his chores oup righdt avay; + For he gan vork so vell as blay,-- + Shonny Schwartz. + + Mine Katrina says to Shonny, + "Shonny Schwartz, + Helb your barents all you gan, + For dis life vas bud a shban: + Py und py you'll been a man, + Shonny Schwartz." + + How I lofes to see dot Shonny-- + Shonny Schwartz-- + Vhen he schgampers off to schgool, + Vhere he alvays minds der rule! + For he vas nopody's fool,-- + Shonny Schwartz. + + How I vish dot leedle Shonny-- + Shonny Schwartz-- + Could remain von leedle poy, + Alvays full off life und shoy, + Und dot Time vould not annoy + Shonny Schwartz! + + Nefer mindt, mine leedle Shonny,-- + Shonny Schwartz; + Efry day prings someding new: + Alvays keep der righdt in view, + Und baddle, den, your own canoe, + Shonny Schwartz. + + Keep her in der channel, Shonny,-- + Shonny Schwartz: + Life's voyich vill pe quickly o'er; + Und den ubon dot bedder shore + Ve'll meet again, to bart no more, + Shonny Schwartz. + + + + +A BULLY BOAT AND A BRAG CAPTAIN + +_A Story of Steamboat Life on the Mississippi_ + +BY SOL SMITH + + +Does any one remember the _Caravan_? She was what would now be +considered a slow boat--_then_ (1827) she was regularly advertised as +the "fast running," etc. Her regular trips from New Orleans to Natchez +were usually made in from six to eight days; a trip made by her in five +days was considered remarkable. A voyage from New Orleans to Vicksburg +and back, including stoppages, generally entitled the officers and crew +to a month's wages. Whether the _Caravan_ ever achieved the feat of a +voyage to the Falls (Louisville) I have never learned; if she did, she +must have "had a _time_ of it!" + +It was my fate to take passage in this boat. The Captain was a +good-natured, easy-going man, careful of the comfort of his passengers, +and exceedingly fond of the _game of brag_. We had been out a little +more than five days, and we were in hopes of seeing the bluffs of +Natchez on the next day. Our wood was getting low, and night coming on. +The pilot on duty _above_ (the other pilot held three aces at the time, +and was just calling out the Captain, who "went it strong" on three +kings) sent down word that the mate had reported the stock of wood +reduced to half a cord. The worthy Captain excused himself to the pilot +whose watch was _below_ and the two passengers who made up the party, +and hurried to the deck, where he soon discovered by the landmarks that +we were about half a mile from a woodyard, which he said was situated +"right round yonder point." "But," muttered the Captain, "I don't much +like to take wood of the yellow-faced old scoundrel who owns it--he +always charges a quarter of a dollar more than any one else; however, +there's no other chance." The boat was pushed to her utmost, and in a +little less than an hour, when our fuel was about giving out, we made +the point, and our cables were out and fastened to trees alongside of a +good-sized wood pile. + +"Hallo, Colonel! How d'ye sell your wood _this_ time?" + +A yellow-faced old gentleman, with a two weeks' beard, strings over his +shoulders holding up to his armpits a pair of copperas-colored +linsey-woolsey pants, the legs of which reached a very little below the +knee; shoes without stockings; a faded, broad-brimmed hat, which had +once been black, and a pipe in his mouth--casting a glance at the empty +guards of our boat and uttering a grunt as he rose from fastening our +"spring line," answered: + +"Why, Capting, we must charge you _three and a quarter_ THIS _time_." + +"The d--l!" replied the Captain--(captains did swear a little in those +days); "what's the odd _quarter_ for, I should like to know? You only +charged me _three_ as I went down." + +"Why, Capting," drawled out the wood merchant, with a sort of leer on +his yellow countenance, which clearly indicated that his wood was as +good as sold, "wood's riz since you went down two weeks ago; besides, +you are awar that you very seldom stop going _down_--when you're going +_up_ you're sometimes obleeged to give me a call, becaze the current's +aginst you, and there's no other woodyard for nine miles ahead; and if +you happen to be nearly out of fooel, why--" + +"Well, well," interrupted the Captain, "we'll take a few cords, under +the circumstances," and he returned to his game of brag. + +In about half an hour we felt the _Caravan_ commence paddling again. +Supper was over, and I retired to my upper berth, situated alongside and +overlooking the brag-table, where the Captain was deeply engaged, having +now the _other_ pilot as his principal opponent. We jogged on +quietly--and seemed to be going at a good rate. + +"How does that wood burn?" inquired the Captain of the mate, who was +looking on at the game. + +"'Tisn't of much account, I reckon," answered the mate; "it's +cottonwood, and most of it green at that." + +"Well, Thompson--(Three aces again, stranger--I'll take that X and the +small change, if you please. It's your deal)--Thompson, I say, we'd +better take three or four cords at the next woodyard--it can't be more +than six miles from here--(Two aces and a bragger, with the age! Hand +over those V's.)." + +The game went on, and the paddles kept moving. At eleven o'clock it was +reported to the Captain that we were nearing the woodyard, the light +being distinctly seen by the pilot on duty. + +"Head her in shore, then, and take in six cords if it's good--see to it, +Thompson; I can't very well leave the game now--it's getting right warm! +This pilot's beating us all to smash." + +The wooding completed, we paddled on again. The Captain seemed somewhat +vexed when the mate informed him that the price was the same as at the +last woodyard--_three and a quarter_; but soon again became interested +in the game. + +From my upper berth (there were no staterooms _then_) I could observe +the movements of the players. All the contention appeared to be between +the Captain and the pilots (the latter personages took it turn and turn +about, steering and playing brag), _one_ of them almost invariably +winning, while the two passengers merely went through the ceremony of +dealing, cutting, and paying up their "anties." They were anxious to +_learn the game_--and they _did_ learn it! Once in a while, indeed, +seeing they had two aces and a bragger, they would venture a bet of five +or ten dollars, but they were always compelled to back out before the +tremendous bragging of the Captain or pilot--or if they did venture to +"call out" on "two bullits and a bragger," they had the mortification to +find one of the officers had the same kind of a hand, and were _more +venerable_! Still, with all these disadvantages, they continued +playing--they wanted to learn the game. + +At two o'clock the Captain asked the mate how we were getting on. + +"Oh, pretty glibly, sir," replied the mate; "we can scarcely tell what +headway we _are_ making, for we are obliged to keep the middle of the +river, and there is the shadow of a fog rising. This wood seems rather +better than that we took in at Yellow-Face's, but we're nearly out +again, and must be looking out for more. I saw a light just ahead on the +right--shall we hail?" + +"Yes, yes," replied the Captain; "ring the bell and ask 'em what's the +price of wood up here. (I've got you again; here's double kings.)" + +I heard the bell and the pilot's hail, "What's _your_ price for wood?" + +A youthful voice on the shore answered, "Three _and_ a quarter!" + +"D--net!" ejaculated the Captain, who had just lost the price of two +cords to the pilot--the strangers suffering _some_ at the same +time--"three and a quarter again! Are we _never_ to get to a cheaper +country? (Deal, sir, if you please; better luck next time.)" + +The other pilot's voice was again heard on deck: + +"How much _have_ you?" + +"Only about ten cords, sir," was the reply of the youthful salesman. + +The Captain here told Thompson to take six cords, which would last till +daylight--and again turned his attention to the game. + +The pilots here changed places. _When did they sleep?_ + +Wood taken in, the _Caravan_ again took her place in the middle of the +stream, paddling on as usual. + +Day at length dawned. The brag-party broke up and settlements were being +made, during which operation the Captain's bragging propensities were +exercised in cracking up the speed of his boat, which, by his reckoning, +must have made at least sixty miles, and _would_ have made many more if +he could have procured good wood. It appears the two passengers, in +their first lesson, had incidentally lost one hundred and twenty +dollars. The Captain, as he rose to see about taking in some _good_ +wood, which he felt sure of obtaining now that he had got above the +level country, winked at his opponent, the pilot, with whom he had been +on very bad terms during the progress of the game, and said, in an +undertone, "Forty apiece for you and I and James (the other pilot) is +not bad for one night." + +I had risen and went out with the Captain, to enjoy a view of the +bluffs. There was just fog enough to prevent the vision taking in more +than sixty yards--so I was disappointed in _my_ expectation. We were +nearing the shore, for the purpose of looking for wood, the banks being +invisible from the middle of the river. + +"There it is!" exclaimed the Captain; "stop her!" Ding--ding--ding! went +the big bell, and the Captain hailed: + +"Hallo! the woodyard!" + +"Hallo yourself!" answered a squeaking female voice, which came from a +woman with a petticoat over her shoulders in place of a shawl. + +"What's the price of wood?" + +"I think you ought to know the price by this time," answered the old +lady in the petticoat; "it's three and a qua-a-rter! and now you know +it." + +"Three and the d--l!" broke in the Captain. "What, have you raised on +_your_ wood, too? I'll give you _three_, and not a cent more." + +"Well," replied the petticoat, "here comes the old man--_he'll_ talk to +you." + +And, sure enough, out crept from the cottage the veritable faded hat, +copperas-colored pants, yellow countenance and two weeks' beard we had +seen the night before, and the same voice we had heard regulating the +price of cottonwood squeaked out the following sentence, accompanied by +the same leer of the same yellow countenance: + +"Why, darn it all, Capting, there is but three or four cords left, and +_since it's you_, I don't care if I _do_ let you have it for +_three_--_as you're a good customer_!" + +After a quick glance at the landmarks around, the Captain bolted, and +turned in to take some rest. + +The fact became apparent--the reader will probably have discovered it +some time since--that _we had been wooding all night at the same +woodyard_! + + + + +WHEN THE ALLEGASH DRIVE GOES THROUGH + +BY HOLMAN F. DAY + + + We're spurred with the spikes in our soles; + There is water a-swash in our boots; + Our hands are hard-calloused by peavies and poles, + And we're drenched with the spume of the chutes; + We gather our herds at the head, + Where the axes have toppled them loose, + And down from the hills where the rivers are fed + We harry the hemlock and spruce. + + We hurroop them with the peavies from their sullen beds of snow; + With the pickpole for a goadstick, down the brimming streams we go; + They are hitching, they are halting, and they lurk and hide and dodge, + They sneak for skulking-eddies, they bunt the bank and lodge; + And we almost can imagine that they hear the yell of saws + And the grunting of the grinders of the paper-mills, because + They loiter in the shallows and they cob-pile at the falls, + And they buck like ugly cattle where the broad dead-water crawls; + But we wallow in and welt 'em, with the water to our waist, + For the driving pitch is dropping and the drouth is gasping "Haste"! + Here a dam and there a jam, that is grabbed by grinning rocks, + Gnawed by the teeth of the ravening ledge that slavers at our flocks; + Twenty a month for daring Death--for fighting from dawn to dark-- + Twenty and grub and a place to sleep in God's great public park; + We roofless go, with the cook's bateau to follow our hungry crew-- + A billion of spruce and hell turned loose when the Allegash drive goes + through. + + My lad with the spurs at his heel + Has a cattle-ranch bronco to bust; + A thousand of Texans to wheedle and wheel + To market through smother and dust; + But I with the peavy and pole + Am driving the herds of the pine, + Grant to my brother what suits his soul, + But no bellowing brutes in mine. + + He would wince to wade and wallow--and I hate a horse or steer! + But we stand the kings of herders--he for There and I for Here; + Though he rides with Death behind him when he rounds the wild stampede, + I will chop the jamming king-log and I'll match him deed for deed; + And for me the greenwood savor, and the lash across my face + Of the spitting spume that belches from the back-wash of the race; + The glory of the tumult where the tumbling torrent rolls, + With half a hundred drivers riding through with lunging poles; + Here's huzza, for reckless chances! Here's hurrah for those who ride + Through the jaws of boiling sluices, yeasty white from side to side! + Our brawny fists are calloused, and we're mostly holes and hair, + But if grit were golden bullion we'd have coin to spend and spare! + + Here some rips and there the lips of a whirlpool's bellowing mouth, + Death we clinch and Time we fight, for behind us gasps the Drouth; + Twenty a month, bateau for a home, and only a peep at town, + For our money is gone in a brace of nights after the drive is down; + But with peavies and poles and care-free souls our ragged and roofless + crew + Swarms gayly along with whoop and song when the Allegash drive goes + through. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume +VI. 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