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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/19325-8.txt b/19325-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a8f734 --- /dev/null +++ b/19325-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5916 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VII. +(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 VII. (of X.) + +Author: Various + +Editor: Marshall P. Wilder + +Release Date: September 18, 2006 [EBook #19325] + +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. VII + + + + +[Illustration: GEORGE ADE] + + + + +THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA + +EDITED BY MARSHALL P. WILDER + +_Volume VII_ + + +Funk & Wagnalls Company +New York and London + +Copyright MDCCCCVII, BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY +Copyright MDCCCCXI, THE THWING COMPANY + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + Alphabet of Celebrities Oliver Herford 1243 + Assault and Battery Joseph G. Baldwin 1391 + Associated Widows, The Katharine M. Roof 1338 + Bill Nations Bill Arp 1368 + Brakeman at Church, The Robert J. Burdette 1323 + Breitmann and the Turners Charles Godfrey Leland 1217 + By Bay and Sea John Kendrick Bangs 1367 + Camp-Meeting, The Baynard Rust Hall 1265 + Critic, The William J. Lampton 1336 + Cupid, A Crook Edward W. Townsend 1220 + Dubious Future, The Bill Nye 1298 + Educational Project, An Roy Farrell Greene 1264 + Fable Ralph Waldo Emerson 1358 + Goat, The R.K. Munkittrick 1247 + Happy Land, The Frank Roe Batchelder 1389 + He and She Ironquill 1250 + Holly Song Clinton Scollard 1260 + How Mr. Terrapin Lost His Beard Anne Virginia Culbertson 1328 + How Mr. Terrapin Lost His Plumage + and Whistle Anne Virginia Culbertson 1360 + In Defense of an Offering Sewell Ford 1248 + It is Time to Begin to Conclude A.H. Laidlaw 1294 + Jack Balcomb's Pleasant Ways Meredith Nicholson 1309 + Lost Inventor, The Wallace Irwin 1385 + Margins Robert J. Burdette 1297 + My Cigarette Charles F. Lummis 1292 + Nonsense Verses Gelett Burgess 1244 + Notary of Périgueux Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1251 + Nothin' Done Sam S. Stinson 1296 + Omar in the Klondyke Howard V. Sutherland 1387 + Prayer of Cyrus Brown, The Sam Walter Foss 1398 + Rhyme for Christmas, A John Challing 1290 + Siege of Djklxprwbz, The Ironquill 1246 + Skeleton in the Closet, The Edward Everett Hale 1371 + Songs Without Words Robert J. Burdette 1261 + Talk John Paul 1307 + Triolets C.W.M. 1262 + Two Cases of Grip M. Quad 1239 + Utah Eugene Field 1305 + Wicked Zebra, The Frank Roe Batchelder 1322 + Winter Fancy, A R.K. Munkittrick 1308 + What She Said About It John Paul 1263 + Woman-Hater Reformed, The Roy Farrell Greene 1359 + Women and Bargains Nina R. Allen 1352 + +COMPLETE INDEX AT THE END OF VOLUME X. + + + + +BREITMANN AND THE TURNERS + +BY CHARLES GODFREY LELAND + + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners + Novemper in de fall, + Und dey gifed a boostin' bender + All in de Toorner Hall. + Dere coomed de whole Gesangverein + Mit der Liederlich Aepfel Chor, + Und dey blowed on de drooms und stroomed on de fifes + Till dey couldn't refife no more. + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners, + Dey all set oop some shouts, + Dey took'd him into deir Toorner Hall, + Und poots him a course of shprouts, + Dey poots him on de barrell-hell pars + Und shtands him oop on his head, + Und dey poomps de beer mit an enchine hose + In his mout' dill he's 'pout half tead! + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners;-- + Dey make shimnastig dricks; + He stoot on de middle of de floor, + Und put oop a fifdy-six. + Und den he trows it to de roof, + Und schwig off a treadful trink: + De veight coom toomple pack on his headt, + Und py shinks! he didn't vink! + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners:-- + Mein Gott! how dey drinked und shwore + Dere vas Schwabians und Tyrolers, + Und Bavarians by de score. + Some vellers coomed from de Rheinland, + Und Frankfort-on-de-Main, + Boot dere vas only von Sharman dere, + Und _he_ vas a _Holstein_ Dane. + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners, + Mit a Limpurg' cheese he coom; + Ven he open de box it schmell so loudt + It knock de musik doomb. + Ven de Deutschers kit de flavor, + It coorl de haar on dere head; + Boot dere vas dwo Amerigans dere; + Und, py tam! it kilt dem dead! + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners; + De ladies coomed in to see; + Dey poot dem in de blace for de gals, + All in der gal-lerie. + Dey ashk: "Vhere ish der Breitmann?" + And dey dremple mit awe and fear + Ven dey see him schwingen py de toes, + A trinken lager bier. + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners:-- + I dells you vot py tam! + Dey sings de great Urbummellied: + De holy Sharman psalm. + Und ven dey kits to de gorus + You ought to hear dem dramp! + It scared der Teufel down below + To hear de Dootchmen stamp. + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners:-- + By Donner! it vas grand, + Vhen de whole of dem goes a valkin' + Und dancin' on dere hand, + Mit de veet all wavin' in de air, + Gottstausend! vot a dricks! + Dill der Breitmann fall und dey all go down + Shoost like a row of bricks. + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners, + Dey lay dere in a heap, + And slept dill de early sonnen shine + Come in at de window creep; + And de preeze it vake dem from deir dream, + And dey go to kit deir feed: + Here hat' dis song an Ende-- + Das ist DES BREITMANNSLIED. + + + + +CUPID, A CROOK + +BY EDWARD W. TOWNSEND + + +The first night assignment Francis Holt received from his city editor +was in these words: "Mr. Holt, you will cover the Tenderloin to-night. +Mr. Fetner, who usually covers it, will explain what there is to do." + +Fetner, when his own work was done that night, sought Holt to help him +with any late story which might be troublesome to a new man. They were +walking up Broadway when Fetner, lowering his voice, said: "Here's +Duane, a plain-clothes man, who is useful to us. I'll introduce you." + +As the reporters, in the full flood of after-theater crowds, stood +talking to the officer, a young man hurrying past abruptly stopped and +stepped to Duane's side. + +"Well, Tommy, what's up with you?" the officer asked. Holt noted that +Tommy, besides being breathed, was excited. His coat and hat had the +provisional look of the apparel of house servants out of livery, and his +trousers belonged to a livery suit. Tommy hesitated, glancing at Duane's +companions, but the officer said: "Tell your story: these are friends of +mine." + +"I was just on my way to the station house to see the captain, but I'm +glad I met you, for we don't want the papers to say anything, and +there's always reporters around the station." + +Holt would have stepped back, but Fetner detained him, while Duane said +cheerfully: "You're a cunning one, Tommy. Now, what's wrong?" + +"Well," began the youth in the manner of a witness on the stand, "I was +on duty in the hall this evening and noticed one of our tenants, Mr. +Porter H. Carrington, leave the house about ten o'clock. I noticed that +he had no overcoat, which I thought was queer, for I'd just closed the +front door, because it was getting chilly." + +At the mention of the name Holt started, and now paid close attention to +the story. + +"I was reading the sporting extra by the hall light," Tommy continued, +"when, in about twenty minutes, Mr. Carrington returned--that is, I +thought it was Mr. Carrington--and he says to me, 'Tommy, run up to my +dressing-room and fetch my overcoat.' 'Yes, sir,' I says; 'which one?' +for he has a dozen of 'em. 'The light one I wore to-day,' he says, and I +starts up the stairs, his apartment being on the next floor, thinking +I'd see the coat he wanted on a chair if he'd worn it to-day. I'd just +got to his hall and was unlocking the door, when he comes up behind me +and says, 'I'll get it, Tommy; there's something else I want.' So in he +goes, handing me a dime, and I goes back to the hall. In about fifteen +minutes he comes downstairs wearing an overcoat and carrying a bundle, +tosses me the key and starts for the door. He's the kind that never +carries a bundle, so I says to him, 'Shall I ring for a messenger to +carry your package?' 'No,' says he, and leaves the house." + +Tommy paused, and there was a shake of excitement in his voice when he +resumed: "In five minutes Mr. Carrington comes back without any +overcoat, and says, Tommy, run upstairs and get me an overcoat.' I +looks, and he was as sober as I am at this minute, Mr. Duane, and I +begins to feel queer. It sort of comes over me all of a sudden that the +voice of the other man I'd unlocked the door for was different from this +one. But I'd been reading the baseball news, and didn't notice much at +the time. So I says, hoping it was some kind of a jolly, 'Did you lose +the one you just wore out, sir?' 'I wore no coat,' he says, giving me a +look. Well, he goes to his apartment, me after him, and there was things +flung all over the place, and all the signs of a hurry job by a +sneak-thief. Mr. Carrington was kind of petrified, but I runs downstairs +and tells the superintendent, and he chases me off to the station. The +superintendent was mad and rags me good, for there never was a job of +that kind done in the house. But the other man was the same looking as +the real, so how was I to know?" + +Duane started off with Tommy, and winked to the reporters to follow. At +the Quadrangle, a bachelor apartment house noted for its high rents and +exclusiveness, Duane was met at the entrance by the superintendent, who +told the officer that there was nothing in the story, after all. It was +a lark of a friend of his, Mr. Carrington had said, and was annoyed that +news of the affair had been sent to the police. The superintendent was +glad that Tommy had not reached the station house. Duane looked +inquiringly at the superintendent, who gravely winked. + +"Good night," said Duane, holding out his hand. "Good night," replied +the other, taking the hand. "You won't report this at the station?" +"No," said Duane, who then put his hand in his pocket and returned to +the reporters. He told them what the superintendent had said. + +"What do you make out of it?" asked Fetner. + +"Nothing," the officer replied. "If I tried to make out the cases we are +asked not to investigate, I'd have mighty little time to work on the +cases we are wanted in. If Mr. Carrington says he hasn't been robbed, it +isn't our business to prove that he has been. You won't print anything +about this?" + +Fetner said he would not. To have done so after that promise would have +closed a fruitful source of Tenderloin stories. The reporters left the +officer at Broadway and resumed their interrupted walk to supper. "Lots +of funny things happen in the Tenderloin," Fetner remarked, in the +manner of one dismissing a subject. + +"But," exclaimed Holt, quite as excited as Tommy had been, "I know +Carrington." + +"So does every one," answered Fetner, "by name and reputation. He's just +a swell--swell enough to be noted. Isn't that all?" + +"He was a couple of classes ahead of me at college," continued Holt. "I +didn't know him there--one doesn't know half of one's own class--but his +family and mine are old friends, and without troubling himself to know +me, more than to nod, he sometimes sent me word to use his horses when +he was away. Before I left college and went to work on a Boston paper, +Carrington started on a trip around the world. My people heard of him +through his people at times, and learned that he was doing a number of +crazy things, among them getting lost in all sorts of No-man's-lands. +His people were usually asking the State Department to locate him, +through the diplomatic and consular services." + +"Then this is one of his eccentricities," commented Fetner. + +"How can you treat it like that?" exclaimed Holt. "I think it is a +fascinating mystery, and I'm going to solve it." + +"Not for publication," warned Fetner. + +"For my own satisfaction," declared Holt, with great earnestness. + + * * * * * + +When the superintendent of the Quadrangle had shaken hands with the +officer he turned to Tommy and said: "You go up to Mr. Carrington. He +wants to see you." + +"Tommy," said Mr. Carrington, "I think this is a joke on you." + +This view of the event was such a relief to Tommy that he grinned +broadly. + +"It is certainly a joke on you. Now, Thomas, did my friend make himself +up to look so much like me that you could not have told the difference, +even if you were not distracted by the discomfiture of the New York nine +this season?" + +"I can't say how much he looked like you, and how much he didn't. I +naturally thought he was you--that's all." + +"Not all, Thomas: nothing is all. He asked in an easy, nice voice for a +coat, so you thought he was somebody who had a coat here. How did you +know whose coat he preferred?" + +"Because I thought he was you." + +"If I had not been the last tenant to leave the house before that, would +you have thought so? If Mr. Hopkins had just left, and that man had come +in and asked for 'My coat,' wouldn't you have got Mr. Hopkins' coat?" + +"Mr. Hopkins did go out after you," Tommy admitted, reluctantly. + +"Oh, he did, eh? Well, Hopkins is always going out. I never knew such a +regular out-and-outer as Hopkins. He should reform. It's a joke on you, +Thomas, and if I were you I wouldn't say anything about it." + +"I ain't going to say anything," declared Tommy. "If I don't lose my job +for it, I'll be lucky." + +"I'll see that you do not lose your job. What police did you see?" + +"Only a plain-clothes man I know, and a couple of his side-partners. +They won't say anything, for the superintendent fixed them." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Carrington secured his college degree a year after his class. The +delay resulted from an occurrence which he never admitted deserved a +year's rustication. By mere chance he had learned the date of the +birthday of one of the least known and least important instructors, and +decided that it would be well to celebrate it. So he made the +acquaintance of the instructor and invited him to a birthday dinner. A +large and exultant company were the instructor's fellow guests at the +St. Dunstan, and there was jollity that seemed out of drawing with the +dominant lines of the guest of honor; yet the scope of the celebration +was extended until it included the burning of much red fire and +explosion of many noisy bombs at a late hour, as the instructor was +making a speech of thanks in the yard, surrounded by the dinner guests, +heartily encouraging him. It seemed that upon the manner in which the +affair was to be presented to the Faculty depended the dismissal of the +instructor or the rustication of Mr. Carrington; and the latter managed +to present the case so as to save the instructor. If he had foreseen all +the consequences of taking all the blame for an occurrence promptly +distorted in report into the aspect of a riotous carousal, perhaps Mr. +Carrington would not have sacrificed himself for a neutral personality +which had so recently swum into his ken. One consequence was a letter +from Mr. Draper Curtis, of New York, commanding Mr. Carrington to cease +correspondence with Miss Caroline Curtis; and a note from Caroline, in +which a calmer man than a distracted lover would have seen signs of +parental censorship, wherein that young lady said that she had read her +father's letter and added her commands to his. She had heard from many +sources, as had numerous indignant relatives and friends, the +particulars of the shocking affair which had compelled the Faculty to +discipline Mr. Carrington; and she could but agree with her family that +her happiness would rest upon insecure ground if trusted to the inciter +and principal offender in such a terrible transaction. He was to forget +her at once, as she would try to forget him. + +Caroline and her mamma sailed for Europe the next day, and several +letters Carrington wrote to her, giving a less censurable version of the +little dinner to the little instructor, were returned to him unopened. + +After receiving his delayed degree Carrington began a tour around the +world. In the court of the Palace Hotel, the day of his departure from +San Francisco, a commonplace-looking man stepped up to him briskly, and +said, placing a hand on his shoulder: "Presidio, you've got a nerve to +come back here. You, to the ferry; or with me to the captain!" + +Carrington turned his full face toward the man for the first time as he +brushed aside the hand with some force. The man reddened, blinked, and +then stammered: "Excuse me, but you did look so--Say, you must excuse +me, for I see that you are a gentleman." + +"Isn't Presidio a gentleman?" Carrington asked, good-naturedly, when he +saw that the man's confusion was genuine. + +"Why, Presidio is--do you mind sitting down at one of these tables? I +feel a little shaky--making such a break!" + +He explained that he was the hotel's detective, and had been on the +city's police force. In both places he had dealings with a confidence +man, called Presidio--after the part of the city he came from. Presidio +was an odd lot; had enough skill in several occupations to earn honest +wages, but seemed unable to forego the pleasure of exercising his wit in +confidence games and sneak-thievery. Among his honest accomplishments +was the ability to perform sleight-of-hand tricks well enough to work +profitably in the lesser theater circuits. He had married a woman who +made part of the show Presidio operated for a time--a good-looking +woman, but as ready to turn a confidence trick as to help her husband's +stage work, or do a song and dance as an interlude. They had been warned +to leave San Francisco for a year, and not to return then, unless +bringing proof that they had walked in moral paths during their exile. + +"And you mistook me for Presidio?" asked Carrington, with the manner of +one flattered. + +"For a second, and seeing only your side face. Of course, I saw my +mistake when you turned and spoke to me. Presidio is considered the +best-looking crook we've ever had." + +"Now, that's nice! Where did you say he's gone?" + +"I don't know." + +Carrington found that out for himself. He first interrupted his voyage +by a stop of some weeks in Japan. Later, at the Oriental Hotel in +Manila, the day of his arrival there, he saw a man observing him with +smiling interest, a kind of smile and interest which prompted Carrington +to smile in return. He was bored because the only officer he knew in the +Philippines was absent from Manila on an expedition to the interior; and +the man who smiled looked as if he might scatter the blues if he were +permitted to try. The stranger approached with a bright, frank look, and +said, "Don't you remember me, Mr. Carrington?" + +"No-o." + +"I was head waiter at the St. Dunstan." + +"Oh, were you? Well, your face has a familiar look, somehow." + +"Excuse my speaking to you, but I guess your last trip was what induced +me to come out here." + +"That's odd." + +"It is sort of funny. I'd saved a good deal--I'm the saving sort--and +the tenner you gave me that night--you remember, the night of _the_ +dinner--happened to fetch my pile up to exactly five hundred. So +I says to myself that here was my chance to make a break for +freedom--independence, you understand." + +"We're the very deuce for independence down our way." + +"Yes, indeed, sir. I was awfully sorry to hear about the trouble you got +in at college; but, if you don't mind my saying so now, you boys were +going it a little that night." + +"Going it? What night? There were several." + +"The red-fire night. You tipped me ten for that dinner." + +"Did I? I hope you have it yet, Mr.--" + +"James Wilkins, sir. Did you see Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Culver as you passed +through San Francisco?" + +"I did. How did you happen to know that I knew them?" + +"I remember that they were chums of yours at college. We heard lots of +college gossip at St. Dunstan's. I called on them in San Francisco, and +Mr. Thorpe got me half-fare rates here. I've opened a restaurant here, +and am doing a good business. Some of the officers who knew me at the +St. Dunstan kind of made my place fashionable. Lieutenant Sommers, of +the cavalry, won't dine anywhere else." + +"Sommers? I expected to find him here." + +"He's just gone out with an expedition. He told me that you'd be along, +and that I was to see that you didn't starve. I've named my place the +St. Dunstan, and I'd like you to call there--I remember your favorite +dishes." + +"That's very decent of you." + +Mr. Wilkins looked frequently toward the entrance, with seeming anxiety. +"I wish the proprietor of this place would come in," he said at last. +"Lieutenant Sommers left me a check on this house for a hundred--Mr. +Sommers roomed here, and left his money with the office. I need the cash +to pay a carpenter who has built an addition for me. Kind of funny to be +worth not a cent less than five thousand gold, in stock and good will, +and be pushed for a hundred cash." + +"If you've Mr. Sommers' check, I'll let you have the money--for St. +Dunstan's sake." + +"If you could? Of course, you know the lieutenant's signature?" + +"As well as my own. Quite right. Here you are. Where is your +restaurant?" + +"You cross the Lunette, turn toward the bay--ask anybody. Hope to see +you soon. Good day." + +Some officers called on Carrington, as they had been told to do by the +absent Sommers. When introductions were over, one of them handed a paper +to Carrington, saying gravely: "Sommers told me to give this to you. It +was published in San Francisco the day after you left, and reached here +while you were in Japan." + +What Carrington saw was a San Francisco newspaper story of his encounter +with the Palace Hotel detective, an account of his famous dinner at the +St. Dunstan, some selections of his other college pranks, allusion to +the fact that he was a classmate of two San Franciscans, Messrs. Thorpe +and Culver, the whole illustrated with pictures of Carrington and +Presidio--the latter taken from the rogues' gallery. "Very pretty, very +pretty, indeed," murmured Carrington, his eyes lingering with thoughtful +pause on the picture of Presidio. "Could we not celebrate my fame in +some place of refreshment--the St. Dunstan, for instance?" + +They knew of no St. Dunstan's. + +"I foreboded it," sighed Carrington. He narrated his recent experience +with one James Wilkins, "who, I now opine, is Mr. Presidio. It's not +worth troubling the police about, but I'd give a pretty penny to see Mr. +Presidio again. Not to reprove him for the error of his ways, but to +discover the resemblance which has led to this winsome newspaper story." + +The next day one of the officers told Carrington that he had learned +that Presidio and his wife, known to the police by a number of names, +had taken ship the afternoon before. + +"I see," remarked Carrington. "He needed exactly my tip to move to new +fields. He worked me from the article in the paper, which he had seen +and I had not. Clever Presidio!" + + * * * * * + +When Tommy, the hall-boy, on the night of Mr. Holt's first Tenderloin +assignment, went to inform the police, Carrington, looking about the +apartment to discover the extent of his loss, found on a table a letter +superinscribed, "Before sending for the police, read this." He read: + +"Dear Mr. Carrington: Since we met in Manila I have been to about every +country on top of the earth where a white man's show could be worked. +It's been up and down, and down and up, the last turn being down. In +India I got some sleight-of-hand tricks which are new to this country; +but here we land, wife and me, broke. Nothing but our apparatus, which +we can't eat; and not able to use it, because we are shy on dress +clothes demanded by the houses where I could get engagements. In that +condition I happened to see you on the street, and thought to try a +touch; and would, but you might be sore over the little fun we had in +Manila. I heard in South Africa that you wouldn't let the army officers +start the police after me; and wife says that was as square a deal as +she ever heard of, and to try a touch. But I says we will make a forced +loan, and repay out of our salaries. We hocked our apparatus to get me a +suit of clothes which looked something like those you wear, and the rest +was easy: finding out Tommy's name and then conning him. I've taken some +clothes and jewelry, to make a front at the booking office, and some +cash. You should empty your pockets of loose cash: I found some in all +your clothes. Give me and wife a chance, and we will live straight after +this, and remit on instalment. You can get me pinched easy, for we'll be +playing the continuous circuit in a week; but wife says you won't +squeal, and I'll take chances. Yours, sincerely as always, Presidio." + +So Carrington told the superintendent to drop the matter. + +The Great Courvatals, Monsieur and Madame, showed their new tricks to +the booking agent and secured a forty weeks' engagement at a salary +which only Presidio's confidence could have asked. + +Presidio liked New York, and exploited it in as many directions as +possible. With his new fashionable clothing and his handsome face, he +was admitted to resorts of a character his boldest dreams had never +before penetrated. He especially liked the fine restaurants. None so +jocund, so frank and free as Presidio in ordering the best at the best +places. Mrs. Presidio did not accompany him; she was enjoying the more +poignant pleasure of shopping, with a responsible theater manager as her +reference! At a restaurant one midday, as Presidio was leisurely +breakfasting, he became aware that he was the object of furtive +observation by a young lady, seated with an elderly companion at a table +somewhat removed. Furtive doings were in his line, and he made a close +study of the party, never turning more than a scant half-face to do so. +The manner of the young lady was puzzling. None so keen as Presidio in +reading expression, but hers he could not understand. That she was not +trying to flirt with him he decided promptly and definitively; yet her +looks were intended to attract his attention, and to do so secretly. The +elderly companion, when the couple was leaving the restaurant, stopped +in the vestibule to allow an attendant to adjust her wrap, and Presidio +seized that chance to pass close to the young lady, moving as slowly as +he dared without seeming to be concerned in her actions. Her head was +averted, but Presidio distinctly heard her breathe, rather than whisper, +"Pass by the house to-morrow afternoon." + + * * * * * + +Presidio pondered. He was supposed to know where her house was; he was +unwelcome to some one there; he was mistaken for some one +else--Carrington! + +When he told his wife about it she was in a fever of romantic +excitement. Bruising knocks in the world, close approaches to the shades +of the prison house, hardships which would have banished romance from a +nature less robustly romantic, had for Mrs. Presidio but more glowingly +suffused with the tints of romance all life--but her own! "Mr. +Carrington has done us right, Willie," she declared; "once in Manila, +when we simply _had_ to get to Hong Kong; and here, where we wouldn't +have had no show on earth if he hadn't lent you the clothes and cash for +the start. There's something doing here, Willie; and I'm all lit up with +excitement." + +Presidio, who, of course, had followed the young lady to learn where she +lived, passed the house the next day, the sedatest looking man on the +sedate block. Presently a maid came from the house, gave him a beckoning +nod, and hurried on round the corner. There she slipped him a note, +saying as she walked on, "I was to give you this, Mr. Carrington." + +Presidio took the note to his wife, and she declared for opening it. It +was sealed, and addressed to another person; but to let such an +informality as opening another's letters stand in the way of knowing +what was going on around them would have been foreign to the nature of +Presidio activities. This was the note: + + "Dear Porter: Your letters to papa will not be answered. I heard + him say so to mamma, yesterday. He is angry that you wrote to him + on the very day I returned from Europe. He will send me back there + if you try to see me, as you say you will, but dear, even at that + cost I must see you once more. I have never forgotten, never ceased + to love; but there is no hope! A companion accompanies me always, + the one you saw in the restaurant; but the maid who will hand you + this is trustworthy, and will bring me any message you give to her. + If you can arrange for a moment's meeting it will give me something + to cherish in my memory through the remainder of my sad and + hopeless life. Only for a moment, dear. + + "Caroline." + +Mrs. Presidio wept. Here was romance sadder, and therefore better, than +any she had ever read; better, even, than that in the one-act dramas +which followed their turns on the stage. "Have you ever studied his +writing?" she asked her husband; and, promptly divining her plan, he +replied, "I made a few copies of his signature on the Manila hotel +register. You never know what will turn up." After a pause, he added +eagerly, "Better yet!--there was some of his writing in the overcoat I +borrowed from his rooms." + +"Write to her; make an appointment, and have him on hand to keep it." + +Here was work right in Presidio's line; his professional pride was +fired, and he wrote with grave application: + + "Darling Caroline: Thank you, sweetheart, for words which have kept + me from suicide. Love of my life, I can not live until we meet! But + only for a moment? Nay, for ever and ever!" + +"That's beautiful!" declared Mrs. Presidio, looking over Willie's +shoulder. He continued: + + "I shall hand this to your maid; but you must not meet me there; it + would be too dangerous. Leave your house one-half hour after + receiving this, and go around the corner where you will see a lady, + a relative of mine, who will drive with you to a safe tryst. Trust + her, and heaven speed the hour! With undying love. Porter." + +This was all written in a good imitation of Carrington's rather unusual +handwriting, and approved by Mrs. Presidio; who, however, thought there +should be some reference to the young lady's home as a beetled tower, +and to her father as several things which Presidio feared might not be +esteemed polite in the social plane they were operating in. He passed +the house the next day, and the maid soon appeared. He learned from her +that her mistress's companion was not at home; and then, hopeful because +of this opportune absence, hurried off, leaving Mrs. Presidio round the +corner in a carriage. He went to a club where, he had ascertained, +Carrington usually was at that hour, and sent in the card of "M. +Courvatal," on which he wrote, "Presidio." Carrington came out to him at +once. "My dear Mr. Presidio, this is so kind of you," he said, regarding +his caller with interest. "We've not met since Manila. I hope Mrs. +Presidio is well, and that your professional engagements prosper. I went +to see you perform last night, and was delighted." + +"Thank you," the caller said, much pleased with this reception. "I'll be +sending the balance of my little debt to you as soon as the wife has her +dressmaking bills settled." + +"Pray do not incommode the wife. The amount you have already sent was a +pleasant--surprise. Can I be of any service to you to-day?" + +"Well, it's like this, Mr. Carrington: I have an appointment for you +this afternoon." + +"For me?" + +"With Miss Caroline Curtis." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Don't be offended, sir. Come with me, and see what you'll see. If I try +any game, pitch into me, that's all." + +The man's manner was now so earnest that Carrington, without a word, +started with him. In the club entrance Presidio whispered, "Follow; +don't walk with me. There's not much chance that any one here will +recognize me, but if I was pinched on any old score you'd better not be +in my company." He went ahead, and Carrington followed. They had walked +down Fifth Avenue several blocks when Mr. Francis Holt cut in between +them, and shadowed Presidio with elaborate caution. Carrington saw this, +and mused. "I think I know that young man who has so plainly got friend +Presidio under observation. Surely, it's Holt, a year or two after me. +What can he--Hello, I say!" + +Holt saw the intention of Presidio to turn off the avenue toward a +little church round the corner, and advancing suddenly, laid a strong +hand on Presidio's shoulder, saying, "Come quietly with me, and I'll +make no fuss; but if you don't, I'll call a policeman." + +Carrington overtook them. Holt was excited, wild-eyed, disheveled, and +seemed not to have slept for a week. Presidio coolly awaited events. + +"Hello, Holt!" exclaimed Carrington. "How are you, old chap? Haven't +seen you for years." + +"Good heavens, this is lucky!" cried Holt. "Carrington, since the night +your rooms were plundered I've been on the track of this villain. I was +bound to explain the mystery of that night; determined to prove that I +could unravel a plot, detect a crime! Do you understand? This is the +fellow who rifled your room. Robbed you!" + +"Yes, I know, old fellow," Carrington replied soothingly, for he saw +that Holt was half hysterical from excitement. "He's always robbing me, +this chap is. It's a habit with him. I've come rather to like it. Walk +along with us, and I'll tell you all about it." + +They turned the corner and walked down the side street, but only Holt +talked: of his sleepless nights and tireless days solving his first +crime case. A carriage drove up to the curb and Mrs. Presidio stepped +out. At a wink from Presidio Carrington stepped in. + +"Betty," said Presidio to his wife, "shake hands with an old friend of +mine and of Mr. Carrington's. I want you to know him. Mr. Holt, shake +hands with Madame Courvatal, my wife." + +"Why, Mr. Holt, glad to meet you personally!" exclaimed Betty. "This is +the gent, Willie, I've told you about: comes to the show every night +just before our turn, and goes out as soon as we are off." + +"Glad you like the turn so much," Presidio said, smiling oddly. Holt, +with his hand to his brow was gasping. The carriage door opened and +Carrington's head emerged: "Oh, Holt, come here." + +Holt, with a painfully dazed expression, went to the carriage. "My +dear," Carrington said to some one inside who was struggling to hide, +"this is Mr. Francis Holt; one of my oldest and dearest friends. He's +the discreetest fellow I know and will arrange the whole matter in a +minute. You must, darling! Fate has offered us a chance for life's +happiness, and as I say--Holt, like a good fellow, go into the parsonage +and explain who I am, and who Miss Caroline Curtis is. Your people know +all the Curtises, and we're going to get married, and--don't protest, +darling!--like a good chap, Holt, go and--for God's sake, man, don't +stare like that! You know us, and can vouch for us. Tell the parson that +the Curtises and Carringtons are always marrying each other. Holt! will +you move?" + +An hour later a little banquet was served in the private dining-room of +a hotel, and Mrs. Carrington was explaining, between tears and laughter, +how good, kind Madame Courvatal had told her that everything was ready +for a wedding, and that she would be a cruel woman, indeed, not to make +such a loving lover happy; and she couldn't make up her mind to say yes, +and it was hard to say no--just after receiving Porter's despairing +note. + +"My note, dear?" asked Carrington, but Presidio coughed so loudly she +did not hear her husband's question. Holt drank to the bride and groom +several times before he began soberly to believe he was not in a dream. +Mr. and Mrs. Presidio beamed broadly, and declared that life without +romance was no kind of a life for honest folk to live. + +"Holt!" exclaimed Carrington, when the train carriage was announced, +"you've been a brick about all this. I don't know how to show my +appreciation." + +"I'll tell you how," suggested Presidio. "Let Mr. Holt be the one to +tell Mr. Curtis. He deserves the privilege of informing the governor." + +"The very thing, Holt, old chap!" cried Carrington. "Will you do it?" + +"You're awfully kind," answered Holt, "but I think this old friend could +do it with more art and understanding." + +"What, my Willie?" cried Willie's wife. "He'll do it to the Queen's +taste. Won't you, Willie?" + +"I will, in company with Mr. Holt--my friend and your admirer. He sits +in front every night," he added, in explanation to Carrington. + +As the carriage with the happy pair drove away to the station, Presidio, +with compulsive ardor, took the arm of Mr. Francis Holt; and together +they marched up the avenue to inform Mr. Curtis of the marriage of his +daughter. + + + + +TWO CASES OF GRIP + +BY M. QUAD + + +"What's this! What's this!" exclaimed Mr. Bowser, as he came home the +other evening and found Mrs. Bowser lying on the sofa and looking very +much distressed. + +"The doctor says it's the grip--a second attack," she explained. "I was +taken with a chill and headache about noon and--" + +"Grip? Second attack? That's all nonsense, Mrs. Bowser! Nobody can have +the grip a second time." + +"But the doctor says so." + +"Then the doctor is an idiot, and I'll tell him so to his face. I know +what's the matter with you. You've been walking around the backyard +barefoot or doing some other foolish thing. I expected it, however. No +woman is happy unless she's flat down about half the time. How on earth +any of your sex manage to live to be twenty years old is a mystery to +me. The average woman has no more sense than a rag baby." + +"I haven't been careless," she replied. + +"I know better! Of course you have! If you hadn't been you wouldn't be +where you are. Grip be hanged! Well, it's only right that you should +suffer for it. Call it what you wish, but don't expect any sympathy from +me. While I use every precaution to preserve my health, you go sloshing +around in your bare feet, or sit on a cake of ice to read a dime novel, +or do some other tomfool thing to flatten you out. I refuse to +sympathize with you, Mrs. Bowser--absolutely and teetotally refuse to +utter one word of pity." + +Mrs. Bowser had nothing to say in reply. Mr. Bowser ate his dinner +alone, took advantage of the occasion to drive a few nails and make a +great noise, and by and by went off to his club and was gone until +midnight. Next morning Mrs. Bowser felt a bit better and made a heroic +attempt to be about until he started for the office. + +The only reference he made to her illness was to say: + +"If you live to be three hundred years old, you may possibly learn +something about the laws of health and be able to keep out of bed three +days in a week." + +Mrs. Bowser was all right at the end of three or four days, and nothing +more was said. Then one afternoon at three o'clock a carriage drove up +and a stranger assisted Mr. Bowser into the house. He was looking pale +and ghastly, and his chin quivered, and his knees wabbled. + +"What is it, Mr. Bowser?" she exclaimed, as she met him at the door. + +"Bed--doctor--death!" he gasped in reply. + +Mrs. Bowser got him to bed and examined him for bullet holes or knife +wounds. There were none. He had no broken limbs. He hadn't fallen off a +horse or been half drowned. When she had satisfied herself on these +points, she asked: + +"How were you taken?" + +"W-with a c-chill!" he gasped--"with a c-chill and a b-backache!" + +"I thought so. Mr. Bowser, you have the grip--a second attack. As I have +some medicine left, there's no need to send for the doctor. I'll have +you all right in a day or two." + +"Get the doctor at once," wailed Mr. Bowser, "or I'm a dead man! Such a +backache! So cold! Mrs. Bowser, if I should d-die, I hope--" + +Emotion overcame Mr. Bowser, and he could say no more. The doctor came +and pronounced it a second attack of the grip, but a very mild one. When +he had departed, Mrs. Bowser didn't accuse Mr. Bowser with putting on +his summer flannels a month too soon; with forgetting his umbrella and +getting soaked through; with leaving his rubbers at home and having damp +feet all day. She didn't express her wonder that he hadn't died years +ago, nor predict that when he reached the age of Methuselah he would +know better than to roll in snow-banks or stand around in mud puddles. +She didn't kick over chairs or slam doors or leave him alone. When Mr. +Bowser shed tears, she wiped them away. When he moaned, she held his +hand. When he said he felt that the grim specter was near, and wanted to +kiss the baby good-by, she cheered him with the prediction that he would +be a great deal better next day. + +Mr. Bowser didn't get up next day, though the doctor said he could. He +lay in bed and sighed and uttered sorrowful moans and groans. He wanted +toast and preserves; he had to have help to turn over; he worried about +a relapse; he had to have a damp cloth on his forehead; he wanted to +have a council of doctors, and he read the copy of his last will and +testament over three times. + +Mr. Bowser was all right next morning, however. When Mrs. Bowser asked +him how he felt he replied: + +"How do I feel? Why, as right as a trivet, of course. When a man takes +the care of himself that I do--when he has the nerve and will power I +have--he can throw off 'most anything. You would have died, Mrs. Bowser; +but I was scarcely affected. It was just a play spell. I'd like to be +real sick once just to see how it would seem. Cholera, I suppose it +was; but outside of feeling a little tired, I wasn't at all affected." + +And the dutiful Mrs. Bowser looked at him and swallowed it all and never +said a word to hurt his feelings. + + + + +ALPHABET OF CELEBRITIES + +BY OLIVER HERFORD + + + E is for Edison, making believe + He's invented a clever contrivance for Eve, + Who complained that she never could laugh in her sleeve. + + O is for Oliver, casting aspersion + On Omar, that awfully dissolute Persian, + Though secretly longing to join the diversion. + + R's Rubenstein, playing that old thing in F + To Rollo and Rembrandt, who wish they were deaf. + + S is for Swinburne, who, seeking the true, + The good, and the beautiful, visits the Zoo, + Where he chances on Sappho and Mr. Sardou, + And Socrates, all with the same end in view. + + W's Wagner, who sang and played lots, + For Washington, Wesley and good Dr. Watts; + His prurient plots pained Wesley and Watts, + But Washington said he "enjoyed them in spots." + + + + +NONSENSE VERSES + +BY GELETT BURGESS + + +1 + + The Window has Four little Panes: + But One have I; + The Window-Panes are in its sash,-- + I wonder why! + + +2 + + My Feet they haul me 'round the House; + They hoist me up the Stairs; + I only have to steer them and + They ride me everywheres. + + +3 + + Remarkable truly, is Art! + See--Elliptical wheels on a Cart! + It looks very fair + In the Picture up there; + But imagine the Ride when you start! + + +4 + + I'd rather have fingers than Toes; + I'd rather have Ears than a Nose + And as for my hair, + I'm glad it's all there, + I'll be awfully sad when it goes! + + +5 + + I wish that my Room had a floor; + I don't so much care for a Door, + But this walking around + Without touching the ground + Is getting to be quite a bore! + + + + +THE SIEGE OF DJKLXPRWBZ + +BY IRONQUILL + + + Before a Turkish town + The Russians came, + And with huge cannon + Did bombard the same. + + They got up close + And rained fat bombshells down, + And blew out every + Vowel in the town. + + And then the Turks, + Becoming somewhat sad, + Surrendered every + Consonant they had. + + + + +THE GOAT + +BY R.K. MUNKITTRICK + + + Down in the cellar dark, remote, + Where alien cats the larder note, + In solemn grandeur stands the goat. + + Without he hears the winter storm, + And while the drafts about him swarm, + He eats the coal to keep him warm. + + + + +IN DEFENSE OF AN OFFERING + +BY SEWELL FORD + + +Gracious! You're not going to smoke again? I do believe, my dear, that +you're getting to be a regular, etc., etc. (Voice from across the +reading table.) + +A slave to tobacco! Not I. Singular, the way you women misuse nouns. I +am, rather, a chosen acolyte in the temple of Nicotiana. Daily, aye, +thrice daily--well, call it six, then--do I make burnt offering. Now +some use censers of clay, others employ censers of rare white earth +finely carved and decked with silver and gold. My particular censer, as +you see, is a plain, honest briar, a root dug from the banks of the blue +Garonne, whose only glory is its grain and color. The original tint, if +you remember, was like that of new-cut cedar, but use--I've been smoking +this one only two years now--has given it gloss and depth of tone which +put the finest mahogany to shame. Let me rub it on my sleeve. Now look! + +There are no elaborate mummeries about our service in the temple of +Nicotiana. No priest or pastor, no robed muezzin or gowned prelate calls +me to the altar. Neither is there fixed hour or prescribed point of the +compass towards which I must turn. Whenever the mood comes and the +spirit listeth, I make devotion. + +There are various methods, numerous brief litanies. Mine is a common and +simple one. I take the cut Indian leaf in the left palm, so, and roll it +gently about with the right, thus. Next I pack it firmly in the censer's +hollow bowl with neither too firm nor too light a pressure. Any fire +will do. The torch need not be blessed. Thanks, I have a match. + +Now we are ready. With the surplus breath of life you draw in the +fragrant spirit of the weed. With slow, reluctant outbreathing you loose +it on the quiet air. Behold! That which was but a dead thing, lives. +Perhaps we have released the soul of some brave red warrior who, long +years ago, fell in glorious battle and mingled his dust with the +unforgetting earth. Each puff may give everlasting liberty to some dead +and gone aboriginal. If you listen you may hear his far-off chant. +Through the curling blue wreaths you may catch a glimpse of the happy +hunting grounds to which he has now gone. That is the part of the +service whose losing or gaining depends upon yourself. + +The first whiff is the invocation, the last the benediction. When you +knock out the ashes you should feel conscious that you have done a good +deed, that the offering has not been made in vain. + +Slave! Still that odious word? Well, have it your own way. Worshipers at +every shrine have been thus persecuted. + + + + +HE AND SHE + +BY IRONQUILL + + + When I am dead you'll find it hard, + Said he, + To ever find another man + Like me. + + What makes you think, as I suppose + You do, + I'd ever want another man + Like you? + + + + +THE NOTARY OF PÉRIGUEUX + +BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW + + Do not trust thy body with a physician. He'll make thy foolish + bones go without flesh in a fortnight, and thy soul walk without a + body a sennight after. + + SHIRLEY. + + +You must know, gentlemen, that there lived some years ago, in the city +of Périgueux, an honest notary-public, the descendant of a very ancient +and broken-down family, and the occupant of one of those old +weather-beaten tenements which remind you of the times of your +great-grandfather. He was a man of an unoffending, quiet disposition; +the father of a family, though not the head of it,--for in that family +"the hen over-crowed the cock," and the neighbors, when they spake of +the notary, shrugged their shoulders, and exclaimed, "Poor fellow! his +spurs want sharpening." In fine,--you understand me, gentlemen,--he was +hen-pecked. + +Well, finding no peace at home, he sought it elsewhere, as was very +natural for him to do; and at length discovered a place of rest, far +beyond the cares and clamors of domestic life. This was a little _Café +Estaminet_, a short way out of the city, whither he repaired every +evening to smoke his pipe, drink sugar-water, and play his favorite game +of domino. There he met the boon companions he most loved; heard all the +floating chitchat of the day; laughed when he was in merry mood; found +consolation when he was sad; and at all times gave vent to his +opinions, without fear of being snubbed short by a flat contradiction. + +Now, the notary's bosom-friend was a dealer in claret and cognac, who +lived about a league from the city, and always passed his evenings at +the _Estaminet_. He was a gross, corpulent fellow, raised from a +full-blooded Gascon breed, and sired by a comic actor of some reputation +in his way. He was remarkable for nothing but his good-humor, his love +of cards, and a strong propensity to test the quality of his own liquors +by comparing them with those sold at other places. + +As evil communications corrupt good manners, the bad practices of the +wine-dealer won insensibly upon the worthy notary; and before he was +aware of it, he found himself weaned from domino and sugar-water, and +addicted to piquet and spiced wine. Indeed, it not unfrequently +happened, that, after a long session at the _Estaminet_, the two friends +grew so urbane that they would waste a full half-hour at the door in +friendly dispute which should conduct the other home. + +Though this course of life agreed well enough with the sluggish, +phlegmatic temperament of the wine-dealer, it soon began to play the +very deuse with the more sensitive organization of the notary, and +finally put his nervous system completely out of tune. He lost his +appetite, became gaunt and haggard, and could get no sleep. Legions of +blue-devils haunted him by day, and by night strange faces peeped +through his bed-curtains, and the nightmare snorted in his ear. The +worse he grew, the more he smoked and tippled; and the more he smoked +and tippled,--why, as a matter of course, the worse he grew. His wife +alternately stormed, remonstrated, entreated; but all in vain. She made +the house too hot for him,--he retreated to the tavern; she broke his +long-stemmed pipes upon the andirons,--he substituted a short-stemmed +one, which, for safe-keeping, he carried in his waistcoat-pocket. + +Thus the unhappy notary ran gradually down at the heel. What with his +bad habits and his domestic grievances, he became completely hipped. He +imagined that he was going to die; and suffered in quick succession all +the diseases that ever beset mortal man. Every shooting pain was an +alarming symptom,--every uneasy feeling after dinner a sure prognostic +of some mortal disease. In vain did his friends endeavor to reason, and +then to laugh him out of his strange whims; for when did ever jest or +reason cure a sick imagination? His only answer was, "Do let me alone; I +know better than you what ails me." + +Well, gentlemen, things were in this state, when, one afternoon in +December, as he sat moping in his office, wrapped in an overcoat, with a +cap on his head and his feet thrust into a pair of furred slippers, a +cabriolet stopped at the door, and a loud knocking without aroused him +from his gloomy revery. It was a message from his friend the +wine-dealer, who had been suddenly attacked with a violent fever, and +growing worse and worse, had now sent in the greatest haste for the +notary to draw up his last will and testament. The case was urgent, and +admitted neither excuse nor delay; and the notary, tying a handkerchief +round his face, and buttoning up to the chin, jumped into the cabriolet, +and suffered himself, though not without some dismal presentiments and +misgivings of heart, to be driven to the wine-dealer's house. + +When he arrived, he found everything in the greatest confusion. On +entering the house, he ran against the apothecary, who was coming down +stairs, with a face as long as your arm; and a few steps farther he met +the housekeeper--for the wine-dealer was an old bachelor--running up +and down, and wringing her hands, for fear that the good man should die +without making his will. He soon reached the chamber of his sick friend, +and found him tossing about in a paroxysm of fever, and calling aloud +for a draught of cold water. The notary shook his head; he thought this +a fatal symptom; for ten years back the wine-dealer had been suffering +under a species of hydrophobia, which seemed suddenly to have left him. + +When the sick man saw who stood by his bedside, he stretched out his +hand and exclaimed,-- + +"Ah! my dear friend! have you come at last? You see it is all over with +me. You have arrived just in time to draw up that--that passport of +mine. Ah, _grand diable_! how hot it is here! Water,--water,--water! +Will nobody give me a drop of cold water?" + +As the case was an urgent one, the notary made no delay in getting his +papers in readiness; and in a short time the last will and testament of +the wine-dealer was drawn up in due form, the notary guiding the sick +man's hand as he scrawled his signature at the bottom. + +As the evening wore away, the wine-dealer grew worse and worse, and at +length became delirious, mingling in his incoherent ravings the phrases +of the Credo and Paternoster with the shibboleth of the dram-shop and +the card-table. + +"Take care! take care! There, now--_Credo in_--Pop! ting-a-ling-ling! +give me some of that. Cent-é-dize! Why, you old publican, this +wine is poisoned,--I know your tricks!--_Sanctam ecclesiam +catholicam_--Well, well, we shall see. Imbecile! to have a +tierce-major and a seven of hearts, and discard the seven! By St. +Anthony, capot! You are lurched,--ha! ha! I told you so. I knew +very well,--there,--there,--don't interrupt me--_Carnis resurrectionem +et vitam eternam_!" + +With these words upon his lips, the poor wine-dealer expired. Meanwhile +the notary sat cowering over the fire, aghast at the fearful scene that +was passing before him, and now and then striving to keep up his courage +by a glass of cognac. Already his fears were on the alert; and the idea +of contagion flitted to and fro through his mind. In order to quiet +these thoughts of evil import, he lighted his pipe and began to prepare +for returning home. At that moment the apothecary turned round to him +and said,-- + +"Dreadful sickly time, this! The disorder seems to be spreading." + +"What disorder?" exclaimed the notary, with a movement of surprise. + +"Two died yesterday, and three to-day," continued the apothecary, +without answering the question. "Very sickly time, sir,--very." + +"But what disorder is it? What disease has carried off my friend here so +suddenly?" + +"What disease? Why, scarlet fever, to be sure." + +"And is it contagious?" + +"Certainly!" + +"Then I am a dead man!" exclaimed the notary, putting his pipe into his +waistcoat-pocket, and beginning to walk up and down the room in despair. +"I am a dead man! Now don't deceive me,--don't, will you? What--what are +the symptoms?" + +"A sharp, burning pain in the right side," said the apothecary. + +"O, what a fool I was to come here!" + +In vain did the housekeeper and the apothecary strive to pacify him;--he +was not a man to be reasoned with; he answered that he knew his own +constitution better than they did, and insisted upon going home without +delay. Unfortunately, the vehicle he came in had returned to the city, +and the whole neighborhood was abed and asleep. What was to be done? +Nothing in the world but to take the apothecary's horse, which stood +hitched at the door, patiently waiting his master's will. + +Well, gentlemen, as there was no remedy, our notary mounted this +raw-boned steed and set forth upon his homeward journey. The night was +cold and gusty, and the wind right in his teeth. Overhead the leaden +clouds were beating to and fro, and through them the newly-risen moon +seemed to be tossing and drifting along like a cock-boat in the surf; +now swallowed up in a huge billow of cloud, and now lifted upon its +bosom and dashed with silvery spray. The trees by the road-side groaned +with a sound of evil omen; and before him lay three mortal miles, beset +with a thousand imaginary perils. Obedient to the whip and spur, the +steed leaped forward by fits and starts, now dashing away in a +tremendous gallop, and now relaxing into a long, hard trot; while the +rider, filled with symptoms of disease and dire presentiments of death, +urged him on, as if he were fleeing before the pestilence. + +In this way, by dint of whistling and shouting, and beating right and +left, one mile of the fatal three was safely passed. The apprehensions +of the notary had so far subsided, that he even suffered the poor horse +to walk up hill; but these apprehensions were suddenly revived again +with tenfold violence by a sharp pain in the right side, which seemed to +pierce him like a needle. + +"It is upon me at last!" groaned the fear-stricken man. "Heaven be +merciful to me, the greatest of sinners! And must I die in a ditch, +after all? He! get up,--get up!" + +And away went horse and rider at full speed,--hurry-scurry,--up hill and +down,--panting and blowing like a whirlwind. At every leap the pain in +the rider's side seemed to increase. At first it was a little point like +the prick of a needle,--then it spread to the size of a half-franc +piece,--then covered a place as large as the palm of your hand. It +gained upon him fast. The poor man groaned aloud in agony; faster and +faster sped the horse over the frozen ground,--farther and farther +spread the pain over his side. To complete the dismal picture the storm +commenced,--snow mingled with rain. But snow, and rain, and cold were +naught to him; for, though his arms and legs were frozen to icicles, he +felt it not; the fatal symptom was upon him; he was doomed to die,--not +of cold, but of scarlet fever! + +At length, he knew not how, more dead than alive, he reached the gate of +the city. A band of ill-bred dogs, that were serenading at a corner of +the street, seeing the notary dash by, joined in the hue and cry, and +ran barking and yelping at his heels. It was now late at night, and only +here and there a solitary lamp twinkled from an upper story. But on went +the notary, down this street and up that, till at last he reached his +own door. There was a light in his wife's bedroom. The good woman came +to the window, alarmed at such a knocking, and howling, and clattering +at her door so late at night; and the notary was too deeply absorbed in +his own sorrows to observe that the lamp cast the shadow of two heads on +the window-curtain. + +"Let me in! let me in! Quick! quick!" he exclaimed, almost breathless +from terror and fatigue. + +"Who are you, that come to disturb a lone woman at this hour of the +night?" cried a sharp voice from above. "Begone about your business, and +let quiet people sleep." + +"Come down and let me in! I am your husband! Don't you know my voice? +Quick, I beseech you; for I am dying here in the street!" + +After a few moments of delay and a few more words of parley, the door +was opened, and the notary stalked into his domicile, pale and haggard +in aspect, and as stiff and straight as a ghost. Cased from head to heel +in an armor of ice, as the glare of the lamp fell upon him, he looked +like a knight-errant mailed in steel. But in one place his armor was +broken. On his right side was a circular spot, as large as the crown of +your hat, and about as black! + +"My dear wife!" he exclaimed with more tenderness than he had exhibited +for many years, "Reach me a chair. My hours are numbered. I am a dead +man!" + +Alarmed at these exclamations, his wife stripped off his overcoat. +Something fell from beneath it, and was dashed to pieces on the hearth. +It was the notary's pipe! He placed his hand upon his side, and, lo! it +was bare to the skin! Coat, waistcoat, and linen were burnt through and +through, and there was a blister on his side as large as your hand! + +The mystery was soon explained, symptom and all. The notary had put his +pipe into his pocket without knocking out the ashes! And so my story +ends. + + * * * * * + +"Is that all?" asked the radical, when the story-teller had finished. + +"That is all." + +"Well, what does your story prove?" + +"That is more than I can tell. All I know is that the story is true." + +"And did he die?" said the nice little man in gosling-green. + +"Yes; he died afterwards," replied the story-teller, rather annoyed by +the question. + +"And what did he die of?" continued gosling-green, following him up. + +"What did he die of? why, he died--of a sudden!" + + + + +HOLLY SONG + +BY CLINTON SCOLLARD + + + Care is but a broken bubble, + Trill the carol, troll the catch; + Sooth, we'll cry, "A truce to trouble!" + Mirth and mistletoe shall match. + + _Happy folly! we'll be jolly! + Who'd be melancholy now? + With a "Hey, the holly! Ho, the holly!" + Polly hangs the holly bough._ + + Laughter lurking in the eye, sir, + Pleasure foots it frisk and free. + He who frowns or looks awry, sir, + Faith, a witless wight is he! + + _Merry folly! what a volley + Greets the hanging of the bough! + With a "Hey, the holly! Ho, the holly!" + Who'd be melancholy now?_ + + + + +SONGS WITHOUT WORDS + +BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE + + + I can not sing the old songs, + Though well I know the tune, + Familiar as a cradle song + With sleep-compelling croon; + Yet though I'm filled with music + As choirs of summer birds, + "I can not sing the old songs"-- + I do not know the words. + + I start on "Hail Columbia," + And get to "heav'n-born band," + And there I strike an up-grade + With neither steam nor sand; + "Star Spangled Banner" downs me + Right in my wildest screaming, + I start all right, but dumbly come + To voiceless wreck at "streaming." + + So, when I sing the old songs, + Don't murmur or complain + If "Ti, diddy ah da, tum dum," + Should fill the sweetest strain. + I love "Tolly um dum di do," + And the "trilla-la yeep da"-birds, + But "I can not sing the old songs"-- + I do not know the words. + + + + +TRIOLETS + +BY C.W.M. + + + She threw me a kiss, + But why did she throw it? + What grieves me is this-- + She threw me a kiss; + Ah, what chances we miss + If we only could know it! + She threw me a kiss + But why did she throw it! + + Any girl might have known + When I stood there so near! + And we two all alone + Any girl might have known + That she needn't have thrown! + But then girls are so queer! + Any girl might have known, + When I stood there so near! + + + + +WHAT SHE SAID ABOUT IT + +BY JOHN PAUL + + + Lyrics to Inez and Jane, + Dolores and Ethel and May; + Señoritas distant as Spain, + And damsels just over the way! + + It is not that I'm jealous, nor that, + Of either Dolores or Jane, + Of some girl in an opposite flat, + Or in one of his castles in Spain, + + But it is that salable prose + Put aside for this profitless strain, + I sit the day darning his hose-- + And he sings of Dolores and Jane. + + Though the winged-horse must caracole free-- + With the pretty, when "spurning the plain," + Should the team-work fall wholly on me + While he soars with Dolores and Jane? + + _I_ am neither Dolores nor Jane, + But to lighten a little my life + Might the Poet not spare me a strain-- + Although I am only his wife! + + + + +AN EDUCATIONAL PROJECT + +BY ROY FARRELL GREENE + + + Since schools to teach one this or that + Are being started every day, + I have the plan, a notion pat, + Of one which I am sure would pay. + 'Twould be a venture strictly new, + No shaking up of dusty bones; + How does the scheme appeal to you? + A regular school for chaperones! + + One course would be to dull the ear, + And one would be to dim the eye, + So whispered love they'd never hear, + And glance coquettish never spy; + They'd be taught somnolence, and how + Ofttimes closed eye for sleep atones; + Had I a million, I'd endow + A regular school for chaperones! + + There's crying need in West and East + For graduates, and not a source + Supplying it. Some one at least + Should start a correspondence course; + But joy will scarce o'errun the cup + Of maidenhood, my candor owns, + Till some skilled Mentor opens up + A regular school for chaperones! + + + + +THE CAMP-MEETING + +BY BAYNARD RUST HALL + + +The camp was furnished with several stands for preaching, exhorting, +jumping and jerking; but still one place was the pulpit, above all +others. This was a large scaffold, secured between two noble sugar +trees, and railed in to prevent from falling over in a swoon, or +springing over in an ecstasy; its cover the dense foliage of the trees, +whose trunks formed the graceful and massive columns. Here was said to +be also the _altar_, but I could not see its _horns_ or any _sacrifice_; +and the pen, which I _did_ see--a place full of clean straw, where were +put into fold stray sheep willing to return. It was at this pulpit, with +its altar and pen, the regular preaching was done; around here the +congregation assembled; hence orders were issued; here, happened the +hardest fights, and were gained the greatest victories, being the spot +where it was understood Satan fought in person; and here could be seen +gestures the most frantic, and heard noises the most unimaginable, and +often the most appalling. It was the place, in short, where most crowded +either with praiseworthy intentions of getting some religion, or with +unholy purposes of being amused; we, of course, designing neither one +nor the other, but only to see philosophically and make up an opinion. +At every grand outcry a simultaneous rush would, however, take place +from all parts of the camp, proper and improper, towards the pulpit, +altar, and pen; till the crowding, by increasing the suffocation and +the fainting, would increase the tumult and the uproar; but this, in the +estimation of many devotees, only rendered the meeting more lively and +interesting. + +By considering what was done at this central station one may approximate +the amount of spiritual labor done in a day, and then a week in the +whole camp: + +1. About day-break on Sabbath a horn _blasted_ us up for public prayer +and exhortation, the exercises continuing nearly two hours. + +2. Before breakfast, another blast for family and private prayer; and +then every tent became, in camp language, "a bethel of struggling Jacobs +and prevailing Israels," every tree "an altar;" and every grove "a +secret closet;" till the air all became religious words and phrases, and +vocal with "Amens." + +3. After a proper interval came a horn for the forenoon service; then +was delivered the sermon, and that followed by an appendix of some half +dozen exhortations let off right and left, and even _behind_ the pulpit, +that all might have a portion in due season. + +4. We had private and secret prayer again before dinner;--some +clambering into thick trees to be hid, but forgetting in their +simplicity, that they were heard and betrayed. But religious devotion +excuses all errors and mistakes. + +5. The afternoon sermon with its bob-tail string of exhortations. + +6. Private and family prayer about tea time. + +7. But lastly, we had what was termed "a precious season," in the third +regular service at the _principia_ of the camp. This season began not +long after tea and was kept up long after I left the ground; which was +about midnight. And now sermon after sermon and exhortation after +exhortation followed like shallow, foaming, roaring waters; till the +speakers were exhausted and the assembly became an uneasy and billowy +mass, now hushing to a sobbing quiescence, and now rousing by the groans +of sinners and the triumphant cries of folks that had "jist got +religion"; and then again subsiding to a buzzy state, occasioned by the +whimpering and whining voices of persons giving spiritual advice and +comfort! How like a volcanic crater after the evomition of its lava in a +fit of burning cholic, and striving to resettle its angry and +tumultuating stomach! + +It is time, however, to speak of the three grand services and their +concomitants, and to introduce several master spirits of the camp. + +Our first character, is the Reverend Elder Sprightly. This gentleman was +of good natural parts; and in a better school of intellectual discipline +and more fortunate circumstances, he must have become a worthy minister +of some more tasteful, literary and evangelical sect. As it was, he had +only become what he never got beyond--"a very smart man;" and his aim +had become one--to enlarge his own people. And in this work, so great +was his success, that, to use his own modest boastfulness in his sermon +to-day,--"although folks said when he came to the Purchase that a single +corn-crib would hold his people, yet, bless the Lord, they had kept +spreading and spreading till all the corn-cribs in Egypt weren't big +enough to hold them!" + +He was very happy at repartee, as Robert Dale Owen well knows; and not +"slow" (inexpert) in the arts of "taking off"--and--"giving them their +own." This trait we shall illustrate by an instance. + +Mr. Sprightly was, by accident, once present where a Campbellite +Baptist, that had recently taken out a right for administering six doses +of lobelia, red pepper and steam to men's bodies, and a plunge into +cold water for the good of their souls, was holding forth against all +Doctors, secular and sacred, and very fiercely against Sprightly's +brotherhood. Doctor Lobelia's text was found somewhere in Pope +Campbell's _New_ Testament; as it suited the following discourse +introduced with the usual inspired preface: + + +DOCTOR LOBELIA'S SERMON + +"Well, I never rub'd my back agin a collige, nor git no sheepskin, and +allow the Apostuls didn't nither. Did anybody ever hear of Peter and +Poll a-goin' to them new-fangled places and gitten skins to preach by? +No, sirs, I allow not; no, sirs, we don't pretend to loguk--this here +_new_ testament's sheepskin enough for me. And don't Prisbeteruns and +tother baby sprinklurs have reskorse to loguk and skins to show how them +what's emerz'd didn't go down into the water and come up agin? And as to +Sprightly's preachurs, don't they dress like big-bugs, and go ridin +about the Purchis on hunder-dollur hossis, a-spunginin on poor +priest-riden folks and a-eatin fried chickin fixins so powerful fast +that chickins has got skerse in these diggins; and then what ain't fried +makes tracks and hides when they sees them a-comin? + +"But, dear bruthrun, we don't want store cloth and yaller buttins, and +fat hossis and chickin fixins, and the like doins--no, sirs! we only +wants your souls--we only wants beleevur's baptism--we wants +prim--prim--yes, Apostul's Christianity, the Christianity of Christ and +them times, when Christians _was_ Christians, and tuk up thare cross and +went down into the water, and was buried in the gineine sort of baptism +by emerzhin. That's all we wants; and I hope all's convinced that's the +true way--and so let all come right out from among them and git +beleevur's baptism; and so now if any brothur wants to say a word I'm +done, and I'll make way for him to preach." + + * * * * * + +Anticipating this common invitation, our friend Sprightly, indignant at +this unprovoked attack of Doctor Lobelia, had, in order to disguise +himself, exchanged his clerical garb for a friend's blue coatee +bedizzened with metal buttons; and also had erected a very tasteful and +sharp coxcomb on his head, out of hair usually reposing sleek and quiet +in the most saint-like decorum; and then, at the bid from the +pulpit-stump, out stepped Mr. Sprightly from the opposite spice-wood +grove, and advanced with a step so smirky and dandyish as to create +universal amazement and whispered demands--"Why! who's that?" And some +of his very people, who were present, as they told me, did not know +their preacher till his clear, sharp voice came upon the hearing, when +they showed, by the sudden lifting of hands and eyebrows, how near they +were to exclaiming: "Well! I never!" + +Stepping on to the consecrated stump, our friend, without either +preliminary hymn or prayer, commenced thus: + +"My friends, I only intend to say a few words in answer to the pious +brother that's just sat down, and shall not detain but a few minutes. +The pious brother took a good deal of time to tell what we soon found +out ourselves--that he never went to college and don't understand logic. +He boasts, too, of having no sheepskin to preach by; but I allow any +sensible buck-sheep would have died powerful sorry, if he'd ever thought +his hide would come to be handled by some preachers. The skin of the +knowingest old buck couldn't do some folks any good--some things salt +won't save. + +"I rather allow Johnny Calvin's boys and 'tother baby sprinklers,' +ain't likely to have they idees physicked out of them by steam logic, +and doses of No. 6. They can't be steamed up so high as to want cooling +by a cold water plunge. But I want to say a word about Sprightly's +preachers, because I have some slight acquaintance with that there +gentleman, and don't choose to have them all run down for nothing. + +"The pious brother brings several grave charges; first, they ride good +horses. Now don't every man, woman and child in the Purchase know that +Sprightly and his preachers have hardly any home, and that they live on +horseback? The money most folks spend in land these men spend for a good +horse; and don't they _need_ a good horse to stand mud and swim floods? +And is it any sin for a horse to be kept fat that does so much work? The +book says 'a merciful man is merciful to his beast,' and that we mustn't +'muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn.' Step round that fence +corner, and take a peep, dear friends, at a horse hung on the stake; +what's he like? A wooden frame with a dry hide stretched over it. What's +he live on? Ay! that's the pint! Well, what's them buzzards after?--look +at them sailing up there. Now who owns that live carrion?--the pious +brother that's just preached to us just now. And I want to know if it +wouldn't be better for him to give that dumb brute something to cover +his bones, before he talks against 'hunder-dollur hossis' and the like? + +"The next charge is, wearing good clothes. Friends, don't all folks when +they come to meeting put on their best clothes? and wouldn't it be wrong +if preachers came in old torn coats and dirty shirts? It wouldn't do no +how. Well, Sprightly and his preachers preach near about every day; and +oughtn't they always to look decent? Take, then, a peep at the pious +brother that makes this charge; his coat is out at the elbow, and has +only three or four buttons left, and his arm, where he wipes his nose +and mouth, is shiny as a looking glass--his trousers are crawling up to +show he's got no stockings on; and his face has got a crop of beard two +weeks old and couldn't be cleaned by 'baby sprinklin''; yes, look at +them there matters, and say if Sprightly's preachers ain't more like the +apostles in decency than the pious brother is. + +"A word now about chickin-fixins and doins. And I say it would be a +charity to give the pious brother sich a feed now and then, for he looks +half-starved, and savage as a meat-ax; and I advise that old hen out +thare clucking up her brood not to come this way just now, if she don't +want all to disappear. But I say that Sprightly's preachers are so much +beliked in the Purchase, that folks are always glad to see them, and +make a pint of giving them the best out of love; an' that's more than +can be said for some folks here. + +"The pious brother says he only wants our souls--then what makes him +peddle about Thomsonian physic? Why don't he and Campbell make steam and +No. 6 as free as preaching? I read of a quack doctor once, who used to +give his advice free gratis for nothing to any one what would _buy_ a +box of his pills--but as I see the pious brother is crawling round the +fence to his anatomical horse and physical saddle-bags, I have nothing +to say, and so, dear friends, I bid you all good-by." + +Such was Rev. Elder Sprightly, who preached to us on Sabbath morning at +the Camp. Hence, it is not remarkable that in common with many worthy +persons, he should think his talents properly employed in using up +"Johnny Calvin and his boys," especially as no subject is better for +popularity at a camp-meeting. He gave us, accordingly, first, that +affecting story of Calvin and Servetus, in which the latter figured +to-day like a Christian Confessor and martyr, and the former as a +diabolical persecutor; many moving incidents being introduced not found +in history, and many ingenious inferences and suppositions tending to +blacken the Reformer's character. Judging from the frequency of the deep +groans, loud amens, and noisy hallelujahs of the congregation during the +narrative, had Calvin suddenly thrust in among us his hatchet face and +goat's beard, he would have been hissed and pelted, nay possibly been +lynched and soused in the branch; while the excellent Servetus would +have been _toted_ on our shoulders, and feasted in the tents on fried +ham, cold chicken fixins and horse sorrel pies! + +Here is a specimen of Mr. S.'s mode of exciting triumphant exclamation, +amens, groans, etc., against Calvin and his followers: "Dear sisters, +don't you love the tender little darling babes that hang on your +parental bosoms? (amen!)--Yes! I know you do--(amen! amen!)--Yes, I +know, I know it.--(Amen, amen! hallelujah!) Now don't it make your +parental hearts throb with anguish to think those dear infantile +darlings might some day be out burning brush and fall into the flames +and be burned to death! (deep groans.)--Yes, it does, it does! But oh! +sisters, oh! mothers! how can you think your babes mightn't get religion +and die and be burned for ever and ever? (O! forbid--amen--groans.) But, +oho! only think--only think, oh! would you ever a had them darling +infantile sucklings born, if you had a known they were to be burned in a +brush heap! (No, no!--groans--shrieks.) What! what! _what!_ if you had +_foreknown_ they must have gone to hell?--(hoho! hoho--amen!) And does +anybody think He is such a tyrant as to make spotless, innocent babies +just to damn them? (No! in a voice of thunder.)--No! sisters! no! no! +mothers! No! _no!_ sinners, _no!!_--He ain't such a tyrant! +Let John Calvin burn, torture and roast, but He never foreordained +babies, as Calvin says, to damnation! (damnation!--echoed by +hundreds.)--Hallelujah! 'tis a free salvation! Glory! a free +salvation!--(Here Mr. S. battered the rail of the pulpit with his fists, +and kicked the bottom with his feet--many screamed--some cried +amen!--others groaned and hissed--and more than a dozen females of two +opposite colors arose and clapped their hands as if engaged in +starching, etc., etc.) No-h-o! _'tis_ a free, a free, a _free_ +salvation!--away with Calvin! 'tis for all! _all!_ ALL! Yes! shout it +out! clap on! rejoice! rejoice! oho-oho! sinners, sinners, sinners, +oh-ho-oho!" etc., etc. + +Here was maintained for some minutes the most edifying uproar of +shouting, bellowing, crying, clapping and stamping, mingled with +hysterical laughing, termed out there "holy laughing," and even dancing! +and barking! called also "holy!"--till, at the partial subsidence of the +bedlam, the orator resumed his eloquence. + +It is singular Mr. S. overlooked an objection to the divine Providence +arising from his own illustration. That children do sometimes perish by +being burnt and drowned, is undeniable; yet is not their existence +prevented--and that in the very case where the sisters were induced to +say _they_ would have prevented their existence! But, in justice to Mr. +S., we must say that he seemed to have anticipated the objection, and to +have furnished the reply; for, said he, in one part of his discourse, +"God did not _wish_ to foreknow _some_ things!" + +But our friend's mode of avoiding a predestined death--if such an +absurdity be supposed--deserves all praise for the facility and +simplicity of the contrivance. "Let us," said he, "for argument's sake, +grant that I, the Rev. Elder Sprightly, am foreordained to be drowned, +in the river, at Smith's Ferry, next Thursday morning, at twenty-two +minutes after ten o'clock; and suppose I know it; and suppose I am a +free, moral, voluntary, accountable agent, as Calvinists say--do you +think I'm going to be drowned? No!--I would stay at home all day; and +you'll never ketch the Rev. Elder Sprightly at Smith's Ferry--nor near +the river neither!" + +Reader, is it any wonder Calvinism is on the decline? Logic it _can_ +stand; but human nature thus excited in opposition, it can not stand. +Hence, throughout our vast assembly to-day, this unpopular _ism_, in +spite of Calvin and the Epistle to the Romans, was put down; if not by +acclamation, yet by exclamation--by shouting--by roaring--by groaning +and hissing--by clapping and stamping--by laughing, and crying, and +whining; and thus the end of the sermon was gained and the _preacher_ +glorified! + +The introductory discourse in the afternoon was by the Rev. Remarkable +Novus. This was a gentleman I had often the pleasure of entertaining at +my house in Woodville; and he _was_ a Christian in sentiment and +feeling; for though properly and decidedly a warm friend to his own +sect, he was charitably disposed toward myself and others that differed +from him ecclesiastically. His talents were moderate; but his voice was +transcendently excellent. It was rich, deep, mellow, liquid and +sonorous, and capable of any inflections. It could preserve its melody +in an unruffled flow, at a pitch far beyond the highest point reached by +the best-cultivated voice. His fancy naturally capricious, was indulged +without restraint; yet not being a learned or well-read man, he mistook +words for ideas, and hence employed without stint all the terms in his +vocabulary for the commonest thoughts. He believed, too, like most of +his brotherhood, that excitement and agitation were necessary to +conversion and of the essence of religion; and this, with a proneness +to delight in the music and witchery of his own wonderful voice, made +Mr. Novus an eccentric preacher, and induced him often to excel at +camp-meetings, the very extravagances of his clerical brethren, whom +more than once he has ridiculed and condemned at my fireside. + +The camp-meeting was, in fact, too great a temptation for my friend's +temperament, and the very theater for the full display of his +magnificent voice; and naturally, this afternoon, off he set at a +tangent, interrupting the current of his sermon by extemporaneous bursts +of warning, entreaty and exhortation. Here is something like his +discourse--yet done by me in a _subdued tone_--as, I repeat, are most +extravaganzas of the ecclesiastical and spiritual sort, not only here, +but in all other parts of the work. + +"My text, dear hearers," said he, "on this auspicious, and solemn, and +heaven-ordered occasion, is that exhortation of the inspired apostle, +'Walk worthy of your vocation.' + +"And what, my dear brethren, what do you imagine and conjecture our holy +penman meant by 'walking?' Think ye he meant a physical walking, and a +moving, and a going backward and forward thus? (represented by Mr. N.'s +proceeding, or rather marching, _à la militaire_, several times from end +to end of the staging). No, sirs!--it was not a literal walking and +locomotion, a moving and agitating of the natural legs and limbs. No, +sirs!--no!--but it was a moral, a spiritual, a religious, ay! yes! a +philosophical and metaphorically figurative walking, our holy apostle +meant! + +"Philosophic, did I say? Yes: philosophic _did_ I say. For religion is +the most philosophical thing in the universe--ay! throughout the whole +expansive infinitude of the divine empire. Tell me, deluded infidels and +mistaken unbelievers! tell me, ain't philosophy what's according to the +consistency of nature's regular laws? and what's more onsentaneous and +homogeneous to man's sublimated moral nature, than religion? Yes! tell +me! Yes! yes! I am for a philosophical religion, and a philosophical +religion is for _me_--ay! we are mutually made and formed for this +beautiful reciprocality! + +"And yet some say we make too much noise--even some of our respected +Woodville merchants--(meaning the author). But what's worth making a +noise about in the dark mundane of our terrestrial sphere, if religion +ain't? People always, and everywhere in all places, make most noise +about what they opine to be most precious. See! yon banner streaming +with golden stars and glorious stripes over congregated troops, on the +Fourth of July, that ever-memorable--that never-to-be-_forgotten_ day, +which celebrates the grand annual anniversary of our nation's liberty +and independence! when our forefathers and ancestors burst asunder and +tore forever off the iron chains of political thraldom! and rose in +plenitude, ay! in the magnificence of their grandeur, and crushed their +oppressors!--yes! and hurled down dark despotism from the lofty pinnacle +of its summit altitude, where she was seated on her liberty-crushing +throne, and hurled her out of her iron chariot, as her wheels thundered +over the prostrate slaves of power!--(Amen)--Yes!--hark!--we make a +noise about that! But what's civil liberty to religious liberty, and +emancipated disenthraldom from the dark despotism of yonder terrific +prince of darkness! whose broad, black, piniony wings spread wide o'er +the ærial concave like a dense cloud upon a murky sky?--(A-a-men!)--And +ain't it, ye men of yards and measures, philosophical to make a noise +about this?--(Amen!--yes!) Yes! _yes!_ and I ain't ashamed to rejoice +and shout aloud. Ay! as long as the prophet was ordered to stamp with +his foot, I will stamp with my foot;--(here he stamped till the platform +trembled for its safety)--and to smite with his hand, I will _smite_ +with my hand--(slapping alternate hands on alternate thighs.)--Yes! and +I will shout, too!--and cry aloud, and spare not--glory! +for--ever!--(and here his voice rang out like the sweet, clear tones of +a bugle). + +"And, therefore, my dear sisters and brethren, let us walk worthy of our +vocation; not with the natural legs of the physical corporation, but in +the apostolical way, with the metaphysical and figurative legs of the +mind--(here Mr. N. caught some one smiling).--Take care, sinner, take +care! curl not the scornful nose--I'm willing to be a fool for +religion's sake--but turn not up the scornful nose--do its ministers no +harm! Sinner, mark me!--in yon deep and tangled grove, where tall, +aspiring trees wave green and lofty heads in the free air of balmy +skies--there sinner, an hour ago, when the sonorous horn called on our +embattled hosts to go to private prayer! an hour ago, in yonder grove I +knelt and prayed for you!--(hooh!)--yes! I prayed some poor soul might +be given for my hire!--and he promised me one!--(Glory! glory!--ah! give +him one!)--laughing sinner!--take care!--I'll have you!--(Grant +it--amen!--ooohoo!) Look out, I'm going to fire--(assuming the attitude +of rifle-shooting)--bang!--may He send that through your heart!--may it +pierce clean home through joints and marrow!--and let all people say +amen!--(and here amen _was_ said, and not in the tame style of the +American Archbishop of Canterbury's cathedral, be assured; but whether +the spiritual bullet hit the chap aimed at, I never learned; if it did, +his groans were inaudible in the alarming thunder of that amen). + +"Ay! ay! that's the way! that's the way! don't be ashamed of your +vocation--that's the way to walk and let your light shine! Now, some +wise folks despise light, and call for miracles: but when we can't have +one kind of light, let us be philosophical, and take another. For my +part, when I'm bogging about these dark woods, far away in the silent, +somber shadows, I rejoice in sunshine; and would prefer it of choice, +rather than all other celestial and translucent luminaries: but when the +gentle fanning zephyrs of the shadowy night breathe soft among the +trembling leaves and sprays of the darkening forests, then I rejoice in +moonshine: and when the moonshine dims and pales away, with the waning +silvery queen of heaven in her azure zone, I look up to the blue concave +of the circular vault, and rejoice in starlight. No! _no!_ NO! any +light!--give us any light rather than _none_!--(Ah, do, good--!) Yes! +yes! we are the light of the world, and so let us let our light shine, +whether sunshine, or moonshine, or starlight!--(oohoo!)--and then the +poor benighted sinner, bogging about this terraqueous, but dark and +mundane sphere, will have a light like a pole star of the distant north, +to point and guide him to the sunlit climes of yonder world of bright +and blazing bliss!"--(A-a-amen!) + +Such is part of the sermon. His concluding prayer ended thus--(Divine +names omitted). + +"Oh, come down! come, come down! _down!_ now!--to-night!--do wonders +then! come down in _might_! come down in _power_! let salvation _roll_! +_Come_ down! _come!_ and let the earthquaking mighty noise of thy +thundering chariot wheels be heard, and felt, and seen, and experienced +in the warring elements of our spiritualized hearts!" + +During the prayer, many petitions and expressions were so rapturously +and decidedly encored, that our friend kindly repeated them; and +sometimes, like public singers, with handsome variations; and many +petitions by amateur zealots were put forth, without any notice of the +current prayer offered by Mr. N., yet evidently having in view some +elegancy of his sermon. And not a few petitions, I regret to say, seemed +to misapprehend the drift and scope of the preacher. One of this sort +was the earnest ejaculations of an old and worthy brother, who, in a +hollow, sepulchral, and rather growly voice, bellowed out in a very +beautiful part of the grand prayer: "Oohhoo! take away _moonshine_!" + +But our first performance was to be at night: and at the first _toot_ of +the tin horn we assembled in expectation of a "good time." For, 1. All +day preparation had been making for the night; and the actors seemed +evidently in restraint, as in mere rehearsal: 2. The night better suits +displays and scenes of any kind: but 3. The African was to preach; and +rumor had said, "he was a most powerful big preacher, that could stir up +folks mighty quick, and use up the ole feller in less than no time." + +After prefatory prayers and hymns, and _pithy_ exhortations by several +brothers of the Circassian breed, our dusky divine, the Rev. Mizraim +Ham, commenced his sermon, founded on the duel between David and +Goliath. + +This discourse we shall condense into a few pages; although the comedy +or _mellow_-drama--for it greatly mellowed and relaxed the +muscles--required for its entire action a full hour. There was, indeed, +a prologue, but the rest was mainly dialogue, in which Mr. Ham +wonderfully personated all the different speakers, varying his tone, +manner, attitude, etc., as varying characters and circumstances +demanded. We fear much of the spirit has evaporated in this +condensation; but that evil is unavoidable. + + +REV. MIZRAIM HAM'S DISCOURSE + +"Bruthurn and sisturn, tention, if you pleases, while I want you for to +understand this here battul most partiklur 'zact, or may be you +moughtn't comprend urn. Furst place, I gwyin to undevur to sarcumscribe +fust the 'cashin of this here battul: second place, the 'comdashins of +the armies: third place, the folkses as was gwyin for to fite and didn't +want to, and some did: and last and fourth place, I'm gwyin for to show +purtiklur 'zact them as fit juul, and git victry and git kill'd. + +"Tention, if you please, while I fustly sarcumscribe the 'casion of this +here battul. Bruthurn and sisturn, you see them thar hethun Fillystines, +what warn't circumcised, they wants to ketch King Sol and his 'ar folks +for to make um slave; and so, they cums down to pick a quorl, and begins +a-totin off all their cawn, and wouldn't 'low um to make no hoes to hoe +um, nor no homnee. And that 'ar, you see, stick in King Solsis gizurd; +and he ups and says, says he, 'I'm not gwying to be used up that 'ar +away by them uncircumcis'd hethun Fillystines, and let um tote off our +folkses cawn to chuck to thar hogs, and take away our hoes so we can't +hoe um--and so, Jonathun, we'll drum up and list soljurs and try um a +battul.' And then King Sol and his 'ar folks they goes up, and the +hethun and theirn comes down and makes war. And this is the 'cashin why +they fit. + +"Tention, 'gin, if you pleases, I'm gwyin in the next place secondly, to +show the 'comdashins of this here battul, which was so fashin like. The +Fillystines they had thar army up thar on a mounting, and King Sol he +had hissin over thar, like, across a branch, amoss like that a one +thar--(pointing)--and it was chuck full of sling rock all along on the +bottom. And so they was both on um camp'd out; this a one on this 'ar +side, and tother a one on tother, and the lilly branch tween um--and +them's the 'comdashins. + +"Tention once more agin, as 'caze next place thirdly, I'm a gwyin to +give purtiklur 'zact 'count of sum folkses what fit and sum didn't want +to. And lubly sinnahs, maybe you minds um, as how King Sol and his +soljurs was pepper hot for fite when he fust liss um; but now, lubly +sinnahs, when they gits up to the Fillystines, they cool off mighty +quick, I tell you! 'Caze why? I tell you; why, 'caze a grate, big, ugly +ole jiunt, with grate big eyes, so fashin--(Mr. Ham made giant's eyes +here)--he kums a rampin' out a frount o' them 'ar rigiments, like the +ole devul a gwyin about like a half-starv'd lion a-seeking to devour +poor lubly sinnahs! And he cum a-jumpin and a-tearin out so +fashin--(actions to suit)--to git sum of King Solsis soljurs to fite urn +juul; and King Sol, lubly bruthurn and sisturn, he gits sker'd mighty +quick, and he says to Jonathun and tother big officers, says he, 'I +ain't a gwyin for to fite that grate big fellah.' And arter that they +ups and says, 'We ain't a gwying for to fite um nuther, 'caze he's all +kiver'd with sheetirun, and his head's up so high we muss stand a hoss +back to reach um!'--the jiunt he was _so big_!! + +"And then King Sol he quite down in the jaw, and he turn and ax if +somebody wouldn't hunt up a soljur as would fite juul with um; and he'd +give um his dawtah, the prinsuss, for wife, and make um king's +son-in-law. And then one old koretur, they call him Abnah, he comes up +and says to Sol so: 'Please, your majustee, sir, I kin git a young +fellah to fite um,' says he. And Abnah tells how Davy had jist rid up in +his carruge and left um with the man what tend the hossis--and how he +heern Davy a quorl'n with his bruthers and a wantun to fite the jiunt. +Then King Sol, he feel mighty glad, I tell you, sinnahs, and he make um +bring um up, and King Sol he begins a-talkin so, and Davy he answers +so:-- + +"'What's your name, lilly fellah?' + +"'I was krissen'd Davy.' + +"'Who's your farder?' + +"'They call um Jesse.' + +"'What you follur for livin?' + +"'I 'tend my farder's sheep.' + +"'What you kum arter? Ain't you affeerd of that 'ar grate ugly ole jiunt +up thar, lilly Davy?' + +"'I kum to see arter my udder brudurs, and bring um in our carruge some +cheese and muttun, and some clene shirt and trowser, and have tother +ones wash'd. And when I cum I hear ole Golliawh a hollerin out for +somebody to cum and fite juul with um; and all the soljurs round thar +they begins for to make traks mighty quick, I tell you, please your +majuste, sir, for thar tents; but, says I, what you run for? I'm not +a-gwyin for to run away--if King Sol wants somebody for to fite the +jiunt, I'll fite um for um.' + +"'I mighty feer'd, lilly Davy you too leetul for um--' + +"'No! King Sol, I kin lick um. One day I gits asleep ahind a rock, and +out kums a lion and a bawr, and begins a-totin off a lilly lam; and when +I heern um roarin and pawin 'bout, I rubs my eyes and sees um gwyin to +the mountings--and I arter and ketch'd up and kill um both without no +gun nor sword--and I bring back poor lilly lamb. I kin lick ole Goliawh, +I tell you, please your majuste, sir.' + +"Then King Sol he wery glad, and pat um on the head, and calls um 'lilly +Davy,' and wants to put on um his own armur made of brass and sheetirum +and to take his sword, but Davy didn't like um, but said he'd trust to +his sling. And then out he goes to fite the ole jiunt; and this 'ar +brings me to the fourth and last diwishin of our surmun. + +"'Tention once more agin, for lass time, as I'm gwyin to give most +purtikurlust 'zactest 'count of the juul atween lilly Davy and ole +Goliawh the jiunt, to show, lubly sinnah! how the Lord's peepul without +no carnul gun nor sword, can fite ole Bellzybub and knock um over with +the sling rock of prayer, as lilly Davy knocked over Goliawh with hissin +out of the Branch. + +"And to 'lusterut the juul and make um spikus, I'll show 'zactly how +they talk'd, and jaw'd, and fit it all out; and so ole Goliawh when he +sees Davy a kumun, he hollurs out so, and lilly Davy he say back so: + +"'What you kum for, lilly Jew?--' + +"'What I kum for? you'll find out mighty quick, I tell you--I kum for +fite juul--' + +"'Huhh! huhh! haw!--t'ink I'm gwyin to fite puttee lilly baby? I want +King Sol or Abnah, or a big soljur man--' + +"'Hole your jaw--I'll make you laugh tother side, ole grizzle-gruzzle, +'rectly--I'm man enough for biggust jiunt Fillystine.' + +"'Go way, poor lilly boy! go home, lilly baby, to your mudder, and git +sugar plum--I no want kill puttee lilly boy--' + +"'Kum on!--don't be afeerd!--don't go for to run away!--I'll ketch you +and lick you--' + +"'You leetul raskul--I'll kuss you by all our gods--I'll cut out your +sassy tung--I'll break your blackguard jaw--I'll rip you up and give um +to the dogs and crows--' + +"'Don't cuss so, ole Golly! I 'sposed you wanted to fite juul--so kum on +with your old irun-pot hat on--you'll git belly full mighty quick--' + +"'You nasty leetle raskul, I'll kum and kill you dead as chopped +sassudge.'" + +Here the preacher represented the advance of the parties; and gave a +florid and wonderfully effective description of the closing act partly +by words and partly by pantomime; exhibiting innumerable marches and +counter-marches to get to windward, and all the postures, and gestures, +and defiances, till at last he personated David putting his hand into a +bag for a stone; and then making his cotton handkerchief into a sling, +he whirled it with fury half a dozen times around his head, and then let +fly with much skill at Goliath; and at the same instant halloing with +the frenzy of a madman--"Hurraw for lilly Davy!" At that cry he, with +his left hand, struck himself a violent slap on the forehead, to +represent the blow of the sling-stone hitting the giant; and then in +person of Goliath he dropped _quasi_ dead upon the platform amid the +deafening plaudits of the congregation; all of whom, some spiritually, +some sympathetically, and some carnally, took up the preacher's triumph +shout-- + +"Hurraw! for lilly Davy!" + +How the Rev. Mizraim Ham made his exit from the boards I could not +see--perhaps he rolled or crawled off. But he did not suffer +decapitation, like "ole Golly": since in ten minutes, his woolly pate +suddenly popped up among the other sacred heads that were visible over +the front railing of the rostrum, as all kept moving to and fro in the +wild tossings of religious frenzy. + +Scarcely had Mr. Ham fallen at his post, when a venerable old warrior, +with matchless intrepidity, stepped into the vacated spot; and without a +sign of fear carried on the contest against the Arch Fiend, whose great +ally had been so recently overthrown--i.e., Goliath, (not Mr. Ham). Yet +excited, as evidently was this veteran, he still could not forego his +usual introduction, stating how old he was; where he was born; where he +obtained religion; how long he had been a preacher; how many miles he +had traveled in a year; and when he buried his wife--all of which +edifying truths were received with the usual applauses of a devout and +enlightened assembly. But this introduction over--which did not occupy +more than fifteen or twenty minutes--he began his attack in fine style, +waxing louder and louder as he proceeded, till he exceeded all the old +gentlemen to "holler" I ever heard, and indeed old ladies either. + + +EXTRACT FROM HIS DISCOURSE + +"... Yes, sinners! you'll all have to fall and be knock'd down some time +or nuther, like the great giant we've heern tell on, when the Lord's +sarvints come and fight agin you! Oho! sinner! sinner!--oh!--I hope you +may be knock'd down to-night--now!--this moment--and afore you die and +go to judgment! Yes! oho! yes! oh!--I say judgment--for it's appinted +once to die and then the judgment--oho! oh! And what a time ther'll be +then! You'll see all these here trees--and them 'are stars, and yonder +silver moon afire!--and all the alliments a-meltin and runnin down with +fervent heat-ah!"--(I have elsewhere stated that the _unlearned_ +preachers out there (?) are by the vulgar--(not the _poor_)--but the +_vulgar_, supposed to be more favored in preaching than man-made +preachers; and that the sign of an unlearned preacher's inspiration +being in full _blast_ is his inhalations, which puts an ah! to +the end of sentences, members, words, and even exclamations, till +his breath is all gone, and no more can be _sucked_ in)--"Oho! +hoah! fervent heat-ah! and the trumpit a-soundin-ah!--and the dead +arisin-ah!--and all on us a-flyin-ah!--to be judged-ah!--O-hoah! +sinner--sinner--sinner--sinner-ah! And what do I see away +thar'-ah!--down the Mississippi-ah!--thar's a man jist done a-killin-ah +another-ah!--and up he goes with his bloody dagger-ah! And what's that I +see to the East-ah! where proud folks live clothed in purple-ah! and +fine linen-ah!--I see 'em round a table a drinkin a decoction of Indian +herb-ah!--and up they go with cups in thar hands-ah! and +see--ohoah!--see! in yonder doggery some a dancin-ah! and +fiddlin-ah!--and up they go-ah! with cards-ah! and fiddle-ah!" etc., +etc. + +Here the tempest around drowned the voice of the old hero; although, +from the frantic violence of his gestures, the frightful distortion of +his features, and the Pythonic foam of his mouth, he was plainly blazing +away at the enemy. The uproar, however, so far subsided as to allow my +hearing his closing exhortation, which was this: + +"... Yes, I say--fall down--fall down all of you, on your +knees!--shout!--cry aloud!--spare not!--stamp with the _foot_!--smite +with the _hand_!--down! _down!_--that's it--down brethren!--down +preachers!--down _sisters_!--pray away!--take it by storm!--_fire_ away! +fire _away_! not one at a time! not two together-ah!--a single shot the +devil will _dodge-ah_!--give it to him _all at once_--fire a _whole +platoon_!--at him!!" + +And then such platoon firing as followed! If Satan stood that, he can +stand much more than the worthy folks thought he could. And, indeed, the +effect was wonderful!--more than forty thoughtless sinners that came for +fun, and twice as many backsliders were instantly knocked over!--and +there all lay, some with violent jerkings and writhings of body, and +some uttering the most piercing and dismaying shrieks and groans! The +fact is, I was nearly knocked down myself-- + +"You?--Mr. Carlton!!" + +Yes--indeed--but not by the hail of spiritual shot falling so thick +around me; it was by a sudden rush towards my station, where I stood +mounted on a stump. And this rush was occasioned by a wish to see a +stout fellow lying on the straw in the pen, a little to my left, +groaning and praying, and yet kicking and pummelling away as if +scuffling with a sturdy antagonist. Near him were several men and women +at prayer, and one or more whispering into his ear; while on a small +stump above stood a person superintending the contest, and so as to +insure victory to the right party. Now the prostrate man, who like a +spirited tom-cat seemed to fight best on his back, was no other than our +celebrated New Purchase bully--Rowdy Bill! And this being reported +through the congregation, the rush had taken place by which I was so +nearly overturned. I contrived, however, to regain my stand, shared +indeed now with several others, we hugging one another and standing on +tip-toes and our necks elongated as possible; and thus we managed to +have a pretty fair view of matters. + +About this time the Superintendent in a very loud voice cried out--"Let +him alone, brothers! let him alone sisters! keep on praying!--it's a +hard fight--the devil's got a tight grip yet! He don't want to lose poor +Bill--but he'll let go soon--Bill's gittin the better on him fast!--Pray +away!" + +Rowdy Bill, be it known, was famous as a gouger, and so expert was he in +his antioptical vocation, that in a few moments he usually bored out an +antagonist's eyes, or made him cry _peccavi_. Indeed, could he, on the +present occasion, have laid hold of his unseen foe's head--spiritually +we mean--he would--figuratively, of course--soon have caused him to ease +off or let go entirely his metaphorical grip. So, however, thought one +friend in the assembly--Bill's wife. For Bill was a man after her own +heart; and she often said that "with fair play she sentimentally allowed +her Bill could lick ary a man in the 'varsal world, and his weight in +wild cats to boot." Hence, the kind-hearted creature, hearing that Bill +was actually fighting with the evil one, had pressed in from the +outskirts to see fair play; but now hearing Bill was in reality down, +and apparently undermost, and above all, the words of the +Superintendent, declaring that the fiend had a tight grip of the poor +fellow, her excitement would no longer be controlled; and, collecting +her vocal energies, she screamed out her common exhortation to Bill, and +which, when heeded, had heretofore secured him immediate +victories--"Gouge him, Billy!--gouge him, _Billy!--gouge_ him!" + +This spirited exclamation was instantly shouted by Bill's cronies and +partizans--mischievously, _maybe_, for we have no right to judge of +men's motives, in meetings:--but a few--_friends_, doubtless, of the old +fellow--cried out in very irreverent tone--"Bite him! devil--_bite_ +him!" Upon which the faithful wife, in a tone of voice that beggars +description, reiterated her--"Gouge him," etc.--in which she was again +joined by her husband's allies, and that to the alarm of his invisible +foe; for Bill now rose to his knees, and on uttering some mystic jargon +symptomatic of conversion, he was said to have "got religion";--and then +all his new friends and spiritual guides united in fresh prayers and +shouts of thanksgiving. + +It was now very late at night; and joining a few other citizens of +Woodville, we were soon in our saddles and buried in the darkness of the +forest. For a long time, however, the uproar of the spiritual elements +at the camp continued at intervals to swell and diminish on the hearing; +and, often came a yell that rose far above the united din of other +screams and outcries. Nay, at the distance of nearly two miles, could be +distinguished a remarkable and sonorous _oh_!--like the faintly heard +explosion of a mighty elocutional class, practising under a master. And +yet my comrades, who had heard this peculiar cry more than once, all +declared that this wonderful _oh_-ing was performed by the separate +voice of our townsman, Eolus Letherlung, Esq.! + + +CONCLUSION + +A camp-meeting of _this sort_ is, all things considered, the very best +contrivance for making the largest number of converts in the shortest +possible time; and also for enlarging most speedily the bounds of a +Church _Visible_ and _Militant_. + + + + +A RHYME FOR CHRISTMAS + +BY JOHN CHALLING + +Publication delayed by the author's determined but futile attempt to +find the rhyme + + + If _Browning_ only were here, + This yule-ish time o' the year-- + This mule-ish time o' the year,-- + Stubbornly still refusing + To add to the rhymes we've been using + Since the first Christmas-glee + (One might say) chantingly + Rendered by rudest hinds + Of the pelt-clad shepherding kinds + Who didn't know Song from b- + U-double-l's-foot!--Pah!-- + (Haply the old Egyptian _ptah_-- + Though I'd hardly wager a baw- + Bee--or a _bumble_, for that-- + And that's flat!).... + But the thing that I want to get at + Is a rhyme for _Christmas_-- + Nay! nay! nay! nay! not _isthmus_-- + The t- and the h- sounds covertly are + Gnawing the nice auracular + Senses until one may hear them gnar-- + And the terminal, too, for m_a_s, is m_u_s, + So _that_ will not do for us. + Try for it--sigh for it--cry for it--die for it! + O _but_ if Browning were here to apply for it, + _He'd_ rhyme you _Christmas_-- + _He'd_ make a _mist pass_ + Over--something o' ruther-- + Or find you the rhyme's very brother + In lovers that _kissed fast_ + _To baffle the moon_,--as he'd lose the _t_-final + In fas-t as it blended with _to_ (mark the spinal + Elision--tip-clipt as exquisitely nicely + And hyper-exactingly sliced to precisely + The extremest technical need): Or he'd _twist glass_, + Or he'd have a _kissed lass_, + Or shake neath our noses some great giant _fist-mass_-- + No matter! If Robert were here, _he_ could do it, + Though it took us till Christmas next year to see through it. + + + + +MY CIGARETTE[1] + +BY CHARLES F. LUMMIS + + + My cigarette! The amulet + That charms afar unrest and sorrow; + The magic wand that far beyond + To-day can conjure up to-morrow. + Like love's desire, thy crown of fire + So softly with the twilight blending, + And ah! meseems, a poet's dreams + Are in thy wreaths of smoke ascending. + + My cigarette! Can I forget + How Kate and I, in sunny weather, + Sat in the shade the elm-tree made + And rolled the fragrant weed together? + I at her side beatified, + To hold and guide her fingers willing; + She rolling slow the paper's snow, + Putting my heart in with the filling. + + My cigarette! I see her yet, + The white smoke from her red lips curling, + Her dreaming eyes, her soft replies, + Her gentle sighs, her laughter purling! + Ah, dainty roll, whose parting soul + Ebbs out in many a snowy billow, + I, too, would burn if I might earn + Upon her lips so soft a pillow! + + Ah, cigarette! The gay coquette + Has long forgot the flames she lighted, + And you and I unthinking by + Alike are thrown, alike are slighted. + The darkness gathers fast without, + A raindrop on my window plashes; + My cigarette and heart are out, + And naught is left me but the ashes. + +[Footnote 1: By permission of Life Publishing Company.] + + + + +IT IS TIME TO BEGIN TO CONCLUDE + +BY A.H. LAIDLAW + + + Ye Parsons, desirous all sinners to save, + And to make each a prig or a prude, + If two thousand long years have not made us behave, + It is time you began to conclude. + + Ye Husbands, who wish your sweet mates to grow mum, + And whose tongues you have never subdued, + If ten years of your reign have not made them grow dumb, + It is time to begin to conclude. + + Ye Matrons of men whose brown meerschaum still mars + The sweet kiss with tobacco bedewed, + After pleading nine years, if they still puff cigars, + It is time you began to conclude. + + Ye Lawyers, who aim to reform all the land, + And your statutes forever intrude, + If five thousand lost years have not worked as you planned, + It is time to begin to conclude. + + Ye Lovers, who sigh for the heart of a maid, + And forty-four years have pursued, + If two scores of young years have not taught you your trade, + It is time you began to conclude. + + Ye Doctors, who claim to cure every ill, + And so much of mock learning exude, + If the _Comma Bacillus_ still laughs at your pill, + It is time to begin to conclude. + + Ye Maidens of Fifty, who lonely abide, + Yet who heartily scout solitude, + If Jack with his whiskers is not at your side, + It is time to begin to conclude. + + + + +NOTHIN' DONE[2] + +BY SAM S. STINSON + + + Winter is too cold fer work; + Freezin' weather makes me shirk. + + Spring comes on an' finds me wishin' + I could end my days a-fishin'. + + Then in summer, when it's hot, + I say work kin go to pot. + + Autumn days, so calm an' hazy, + Sorter make me kinder lazy. + + That's the way the seasons run. + Seems I can't git nothin' done. + +[Footnote 2: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +MARGINS + +BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE + + + My dreams so fair that used to be, + The promises of youth's bright clime, + So changed, alas; come back to me + Sweet memories of that hopeful time + Before I learned, with doubt oppressed, + There are no birds in next year's nest. + + The seed I sowed in fragrant spring + The summer's sun to vivify + With his warm kisses, ripening + To golden harvest by and by, + Got caught by drought, like all the rest-- + There are no birds in next year's nest. + + The stock I bought at eighty-nine, + Broke down next day to twenty-eight; + Some squatters jumped my silver mine, + My own convention smashed my slate; + No more in "futures" I'll invest-- + There are no birds in next year's nest. + + + + +THE DUBIOUS FUTURE + +BY BILL NYE + + +Without wishing to alarm the American people, or create a panic, I +desire briefly and seriously to discuss the great question, "Whither are +we drifting, and what is to be the condition of the coming man?" We can +not shut our eyes to the fact that mankind is passing through a great +era of change; even womankind is not built as she was a few brief years +ago. And is it not time, fellow citizens, that we pause to consider what +is to be the future of the American? + +Food itself has been the subject of change both in the matter of +material and preparation. This must affect the consumer in such a way as +to some day bring about great differences. Take, for instance, the +oyster, one of our comparatively modern food and game fishes, and watch +the effects of science upon him. At one time the oyster browsed around +and ate what he could find in Neptune's back-yard, and we had to eat him +as we found him. Now we take a herd of oysters off the trail, all run +down, and feed them artificially till they swell up to a fancy size, and +bring a fancy price. Where will this all lead at last, I ask as a +careful scientist? Instead of eating apples, as Adam did, we work the +fruit up into apple-jack and pie, while even the simple oyster is +perverted, and instead of being allowed to fatten up in the fall on +acorns and ancient mariners, spurious flesh is put on his bones by the +artificial osmose and dialysis of our advanced civilization. How can +you make an oyster stout or train him down by making him jerk a health +lift so many hours every day, or cultivate his body at the expense of +his mind, without ultimately not only impairing the future usefulness of +the oyster himself, but at the same time affecting the future of the +human race who feed upon him? + +I only use the oyster as an illustration, and I do not wish to cause +alarm, but I say that if we stimulate the oyster artificially and swell +him up by scientific means, we not only do so at the expense of his +better nature and keep him away from his family, but we are making our +mark on the future race of men. Oyster-fattening is now, of course, in +its infancy. Only a few years ago an effort was made at St. Louis to +fatten cove oysters while in the can, but the system was not well +understood, and those who had it in charge only succeeded in making the +can itself more plump. But now oysters are kept on ground feed and given +nothing to do for a few weeks, and even the older and overworked +sway-backed and rickety oysters of the dim and murky past are made to +fill out, and many of them have to put a gore in the waistband of their +shells. I only speak of the oyster incidentally, as one of the objects +toward which science has turned its attention, and I assert with the +utmost confidence that the time will come, unless science should get a +set-back, when the present hunting-case oyster will give place to the +open-face oyster, grafted on the octopus and big enough to feed a hotel. +Further than that, the oyster of the future will carry in a hip-pocket a +flask of vinegar, half a dozen lemons and two little Japanese bottles, +one of which will contain salt and the other pepper, and there will be +some way provided by which you can tell which is which. But are we +improving the oyster now? That is a question we may well ask ourselves. +Is this a healthy fat which we are putting on him, or is it bloat? And +what will be the result in the home-life of the oyster? We take him from +all domestic influences whatever in order to make a swell of him by our +modern methods, but do we improve his condition morally, and what is to +be the great final result on man? + +The reader will see by the questions I ask that I am a true scientist. +Give me an overcoat pocket full of lower-case interrogation marks and a +medical report to run to, and I can speak on the matter of science and +advancement till Reason totters on her throne. + +But food and oysters do not alone affect the great, pregnant future. Our +race is being tampered with not only by means of adulterations, +political combinations and climatic changes, but even our methods of +relaxation are productive of peculiar physical conditions, malformations +and some more things of the same kind. + +Cigarette smoking produces a flabby and endogenous condition of the +optic nerve, and constant listening at a telephone, always with the same +ear, decreases the power of the other ear till it finally just stands +around drawing its salary, but actually refusing to hear anything. +Carrying an eight-pound cane makes a man lopsided, and the muscular and +nervous strain that is necessary to retain a single eyeglass in place +and keep it out of the soup, year after year, draws the mental stimulus +that should go to the thinker itself, until at last the mind wanders +away and forgets to come back, or becomes atrophied, and the great +mental strain incident to the work of pounding sand or coming in when it +rains is more than it is equal to. + +Playing billiards, accompanied by the vicious habit of pounding on the +floor with the butt of the cue ever and anon, produces at last optical +illusions, phantasmagoria and visions of pink spiders with navy-blue +abdomens. Baseball is not alone highly injurious to the umpire, but it +also induces crooked fingers, bone spavin and hives among habitual +players. Jumping the rope induces heart disease. Poker is unduly +sedentary in its nature. Bicycling is highly injurious, especially to +skittish horses. Boating induces malaria. Lawn tennis can not be played +in the house. Archery is apt to be injurious to those who stand around +and watch the game, and pugilism is a relaxation that jars heavily on +some natures. + +Foot-ball produces what may be called the endogenous or ingrowing +toenail, stringhalt and mania. Copenhagen induces a melancholy, and the +game of bean bag is unduly exciting. Horse racing is too brief and +transitory as an outdoor game, requiring weeks and months for +preparation and lasting only long enough for a quick person to ejaculate +"Scat!" The pitcher's arm is a new disease, the outgrowth of base-ball; +the lawn-tennis elbow is another result of a popular open-air amusement, +and it begins to look as though the coming American would hear with one +overgrown telephonic ear, while the other will be rudimentary only. He +will have an abnormal base-ball arm with a lawn-tennis elbow, a powerful +foot-ball-kicking leg with the superior toe driven back into the palm of +his foot. He will have a highly trained biceps muscle over his eye to +retain his glass, and that eye will be trained to shoot a curved glance +over a high hat and witness anything on the stage. + +Other features grow abnormal, or shrink up from the lack of use, as a +result of our customs. For instance, the man whose business it is to get +along a crowded street with the utmost speed will have, finally, a hard, +sharp horn growing on each elbow, and a pair of spurs growing out of +each ankle. These will enable him to climb over a crowd and get there +early. Constant exposure to these weapons on the part of the pedestrian +will harden the walls of the thorax and abdomen until the coming man +will be an impervious man. The citizen who avails himself of all modern +methods of conveyance will ride from his door on the horse car to the +elevated station, where an elevator will elevate him to the train and a +revolving platform will swing him on board, or possibly the street car +will be lifted from the surface track to the elevated track, and the +passenger will retain his seat all the time. Then a man will simply hang +out a red card, like an express card, at his door, and a combination car +will call for him, take him to the nearest elevated station, elevate +him, car and all, to the track, take him where he wants to go, and call +for him at any hour of the night to bring him home. He will do his +exercising at home, chiefly taking artificial sea baths, jerking a +rowing machine or playing on a health lift till his eyes hang out on his +cheeks, and he need not do any walking whatever. In that way the coming +man will be over-developed above the legs, and his lower limbs will look +like the desolate stems of a frozen geranium. Eccentricities of limb +will be handed over like baldness from father to son among the dwellers +in the cities, where every advantage in the way of rapid transit is to +be had, until a metropolitan will be instantly picked out by his able +digestion and rudimentary legs, just as we now detect the gentleman from +the interior by his wild endeavors to overtake an elevated train. + +In fact, Mr. Edison has now perfected, or announced that he is on the +road to the perfection of, a machine which I may be pardoned for calling +a storage think-tank. This will enable a brainy man to sit at home, and, +with an electric motor and a perfected phonograph, he can think into a +tin dipper or funnel, which will, by the aid of electricity and a new +style of foil, record and preserve his ideas on a sheet of soft metal, +so that when any one says to him, "A penny for your thoughts," he can go +to his valise and give him a piece of his mind. Thus the man who has +such wild and beautiful thoughts in the night and never can hold on to +them long enough to turn on the gas and get his writing materials, can +set this thing by the head of his bed, and, when the poetic thought +comes to him in the stilly night, he can think into a hopper, and the +genius of Franklin and Edison together will enable him to fire it back +at his friends in the morning while they eat their pancakes and glucose +syrup from Vermont, or he can mail the sheet of tinfoil to absent +friends, who may put it into their phonographs and utilize it. In this +way the world may harness the gray matter of its best men, and it will +be no uncommon thing to see a dozen brainy men tied up in a row in the +back office of an intellectual syndicate, dropping pregnant thoughts +into little electric coffee mills for a couple of hours a day, after +which they can put on their coats, draw their pay, and go home. + +All this will reduce the quantity of exercise, both mental and physical. +Two men with good brains could do the thinking for 60,000,000 of people +and feel perfectly fresh and rested the next day. Take four men, we will +say, two to do the day thinking and two more to go on deck at night, and +see how much time the rest of the world would have to go fishing. See +how politics would become simplified. Conventions, primaries, bargains +and sales, campaign bitterness and vituperation--all might be wiped out. +A pair of political thinkers could furnish 100,000,000 of people with +logical conclusions enough to last them through the campaign and put an +unbiased opinion into a man's house each day for less than he now pays +for gas. Just before election you could go into your private office, +throw in a large dose of campaign whisky, light a campaign cigar, +fasten your buttonhole to the wall by an elastic band, so that there +would be a gentle pull on it, and turn the electricity on your +mechanical thought supply. It would save time and money, and the result +would be the same as it is now. This would only be the beginning, of +course, and after a while every qualified voter who did not feel like +exerting himself so much, need only give his name and proxy to the +salaried thinker employed by the National Think Retort and Supply Works. +We talk a great deal about the union of church and state, but that is +not so dangerous, after all, as the mixture of politics and independent +thought. Will the coming voter be an automatic, legless, hairless +mollusk with an abnormal ear constantly glued to the tube of a big tank +full of symmetrical ideas furnished by a national bureau of brains in +the employ of the party in power? + + + + +UTAH + +BY EUGENE FIELD + + + Bowed was the old man's snow-white head, + A troubled look was on his face, + "Why come you, sir," I gently said, + "Unto this solemn burial place?" + + "I come to weep a while for one + Whom in her life I held most dear, + Alas, her sands were quickly run, + And now she lies a sleeping here." + + "Oh, tell me of your precious wife, + For she was very dear, I know, + It must have been a blissful life + You led with her you treasure so?" + + "My wife is mouldering in the ground, + In yonder house she's spinning now, + And lo! this moment may be found + A driving home the family cow; + + "And see, she's standing at the stile, + And leans from out the window wide, + And loiters on the sward a while, + Her forty babies by her side." + + "Old man, you must be mad!" I cried, + "Or else you do but jest with me; + How is it that your wife has died + And yet can here and living be? + + "How is it while she drives the cow + She's hanging out her window wide, + And loiters, as you said just now, + With forty babies by her side?" + + The old man raised his snowy head, + "I have a sainted wife in Heaven; + I am a Mormon, sir," he said, + "My sainted wife on earth are seven." + + + + +TALK + +BY JOHN PAUL + + + It seems to me that talk should be, + Like water, sprinkled sparingly; + Then ground that late lay dull and dried + Smiles up at you revivified, + And flowers--of speech--touched by the dew + Put forth fresh root and bud anew. + But I'm not sure that any flower + Would thrive beneath Niagara's shower! + So when a friend turns full on me + His verbal hose, may I not flee? + I know that I am arid ground, + But I'm not watered--Gad! I'm drowned! + + + + +A WINTER FANCY + +(_Little Tommy Loq_) + +BY R.K. MUNKITTRICK + + + My father piles the snow-drifts + Around his rosy face, + And covers all his whiskers-- + The grass that grows apace. + + And then he runs the snow-plough + Across his smiling lawn, + And all the snow-drifts vanish + And then the grass is gone. + + + + +JACK BALCOMB'S PLEASANT WAYS + +BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON + + +There comes a time in the life of young men when their college +fraternity pins lie forgotten in the collar-button box and the spiking +of freshmen ceases to be a burning issue. Tippecanoe was one of the few +freshwater colleges that barred women; but this was not its only +distinction, for its teaching was sound, its campus charming and the +town of which it was the chief ornament a quiet place noted from the +beginning of things for its cultivated people. + +It is no longer so very laudable for a young man to pay his way through +college; and Morris Leighton had done this easily and without caring to +be praised or martyrized for doing so. He had enjoyed his college days; +he had been popular with town and gown; and he had managed to get his +share of undergraduate fun while leading his classes. He had helped in +the college library; he had twisted the iron letter-press on the +president's correspondence late into the night; he had copied briefs for +a lawyer after hours; but he had pitched for the nine and hustled for +his "frat," and he had led class rushes with ardor and success. + +He had now been for several years in the offices of Knight, Kittredge +and Carr at Mariona, only an hour's ride from Tippecanoe; and he still +kept in touch with the college. Michael Carr fully appreciated a young +man who took the law seriously and who could sit down in a court room +on call mornings, when need be, and turn off a demurrer without +paraphrasing it from a text-book. + +Mrs. Carr, too, found Morris Leighton useful, and she liked him, because +he always responded unquestioningly to any summons to fill up a blank at +her table; and if Mr. Carr was reluctant at the last minute to attend a +lecture on "Egyptian Burial Customs," Mrs. Carr could usually summon +Morris Leighton by telephone in time to act as her escort. Young men +were at a premium in Mariona, as in most other places, and it was +something to have one of the species, of an accommodating turn, and very +presentable, within telephone range. Mrs. Carr was grateful, and so, it +must be said, was her husband, who did not care to spend his evenings +digging up Egyptians that had been a long time dead, or listening to +comic operas. It was through Mrs. Carr that Leighton came to be well +known in Mariona; she told her friends to ask him to call, and there +were now many homes besides hers that he visited. + +It sometimes occurred to Morris Leighton that he was not getting ahead +in the world very fast. He knew that his salary from Carr was more than +any other young lawyer of his years earned by independent practice; but +it seemed to him that he ought to be doing better. He had not drawn on +his mother's small resources since his first year at college; he had +made his own way--and a little more--but he experienced moments of +restlessness in which the difficulties of establishing himself in his +profession loomed large and formidable. + +An errand to a law firm in one of the fashionable new buildings that had +lately raised the Mariona sky-line led him one afternoon past the office +of his college classmate, Jack Balcomb. "J. Arthur Balcomb," was the +inscription on the door, "Suite B, Room 1." Leighton had seen little of +Balcomb for a year or more, and his friend's name on the ground-glass +door arrested his eye. + +Two girls were busily employed at typewriters in the anteroom, and one +of them extended a blank card to Morris and asked him for his name. The +girl disappeared into the inner room and came back instantly followed by +Balcomb, who seized Morris's hand, dragged him in and closed the door. + +"Well, old man!" Balcomb shouted. "I'm glad to see you. It's downright +pleasant to have a fellow come in occasionally and feel no temptation to +take his watch. Sink into yonder soft-yielding leather and allow me to +offer you one of these plutocratic perfectos. Only the elect get these, +I can tell you. In that drawer there I keep a brand made out of car +waste and hemp rope, that does very well for ordinary commercial +sociability. Got a match? All right; smoke up and tell me what you're +doing to make the world a better place to live in, as old Prexy used to +say at college." + +"I'm digging at the law, at the same old stand. I can't say that I'm +flourishing like Jonah's gourd, as you seem to be." + +Morris cast his eyes over the room, which was handsomely furnished. +There was a good rug on the floor and the desk and table were of heavy +oak; an engraving of Thomas Jefferson hung over Balcomb's desk, and on +the opposite side of the room was a table covered with financial +reference books. + +"Well, I tell you, old man," declared Balcomb, "you've got to fool all +the people all the time these days to make it go. Those venerable +whiskers around town whine about the good old times and how a young +man's got to go slow but sure. There's nothing in it; and they wouldn't +be in it either, if they had to start in again; no siree!" + +"What is your game just now, Jack, if it isn't impertinent? It's hard to +keep track of you. I remember very well that you started in to learn the +wholesale drug business." + +"Oh tush! don't refer to that, an thou lovest me! That is one of the +darkest pages of my life. Those people down there in South High Street +thought I was a jay, and they sent me out to help the shipping clerk. +Wouldn't that jar you! Overalls,--and a hand truck. Wow! I couldn't get +out of that fast enough. Then, you know, I went to Chicago and spent a +year in a broker's office, and I guess I learned a few up there. Oh, +rather! They sent me into the country to sell mining stock and I made a +record. They kept the printing presses going overtime to keep me +supplied. Say, they got afraid of me; I was too good!" + +He stroked his vandyke beard complacently, and flicked the ash from his +cigar. + +"What's your line now? Real estate, mortgages, lending money to the +poor? How do you classify yourself?" + +"You do me a cruel wrong, Morris, a cruel wrong. You read my sign on the +outer wall? Well, that's a bluff. There's nothing in real estate, _per +se_, as old Doc Bridges used to say at college. And the loan business +has all gone to the bad,--people are too rich; farmers are rolling in +real money and have it to lend. There was nothing for little Willie in +petty brokerages. I'm scheming--promoting--and I take my slice off of +everything that passes." + +"That certainly sounds well. You've learned fast. You had an ambition to +be a poet when you were in college. I think I still have a few pounds of +your verses in my traps somewhere." + +Balcomb threw up his head and laughed in self-pity. + +"I believe I _was_ bitten with the literary tarantula for a while, but +I've lived it down, I hope. Prexy used to predict a bright literary +future for me in those days. You remember, when I made Phi Beta Kappa, +how he took both my hands and wept over me. 'Balcomb,' he says, 'you're +an honor to the college.' I suppose he'd weep again, if he knew I'd only +forgotten about half the letters of the Greek alphabet,--left them, as +one might say, several thousand parasangs to the rear in my mad race for +daily sustenance. Well, I may not leave any vestiges on the sands of +time, but, please God, I shan't die hungry,--not if I keep my health. +Dear old Prexy! He was a nice old chump, though a trifle somnolent in +his chapel talks." + +"Well, we needn't pull the planks out of the bridge we've crossed on. I +got a lot out of college that I'm grateful for. They did their best for +us," said Morris. + +"Oh, yes; it was well enough, but if I had it to do over, Tippecanoe +wouldn't see me; not much! It isn't what you learn in college, it's the +friendships you make and all that sort of thing that counts. A western +man ought to go east to college and rub up against eastern fellows. The +atmosphere at the freshwater colleges is pretty jay. Fred Waters left +Tippecanoe and went to Yale and got in with a lot of influential fellows +down there,--chaps whose fathers are in big things in New York. Fred has +a fine position now, just through his college pull, and first thing you +know, he'll pick up an heiress and be fixed for life. Fred's a winner +all right." + +"He's also an ass," said Leighton. "I remember him of old." + +"An ass of the large gray and long-eared species,--I'll grant you that, +all right enough; but look here, old man, you've got to overlook the +fact that a fellow occasionally lifts his voice and brays. Man does not +live by the spirit alone; he needs bread, and bread's getting hard to +get." + +"I've noticed it," replied Leighton, who had covered all this ground +before in talks with Balcomb and did not care to go into it further. + +"And then, you remember," Balcomb went on, in enjoyment of his own +reminiscences, "I wooed the law for a while. But I guess what I learned +wouldn't have embarrassed Chancellor Kent. I really had a client once. I +didn't see a chance of getting one any other way, so I hired him. He was +a coon. I employed him for two dollars to go to the Grand Opera House +and buy a seat in the orchestra when Sir Henry Irving was giving _The +Merchant of Venice_. He went to sleep and snored and they threw him out +with rude, insolent, and angry hands after the second act; and I brought +suit against the management for damages, basing my claim on the idea +that they had spurned my dusky brother on account of his race, color and +previous condition of servitude. The last clause was a joke. He had +never done any work in his life, except for the state. He was a very +sightly coon, too, now that I recall him. The show was, as I said, _The +Merchant of Venice_, and I'll leave it to anybody if my client wasn't at +least as pleasing to the eye as Sir Henry in his Shylock togs. I suppose +if it had been _Othello_, race feeling would have run so high that Sir +Henry would hardly have escaped lynching. Well, to return. My client got +loaded on gin about the time the case came up on demurrer and gave the +snap away, and I dropped out of the practice to avoid being disbarred. +And it was just as well. My landlord had protested against my using the +office at night for poker purposes, so I passed up the law and sought +the asphodel fields of promotion. _Les affaires font l'homme_, as old +Professor Garneau used to say at college. So here I am; and I'm glad I +shook the law. I'd got tired of eating coffee and rolls at the Berlin +bakery three times a day. + +"Why, Morris, old man," he went on volubly, "there were days when the +loneliness in my office grew positively oppressive. You may remember +that room I had in the old Adams and Harper Block? It gave upon a +courtyard where the rats from a livery stable came to disport themselves +on rainy days. I grew to be a dead shot with the flobert rifle; but +lawsy, there's mighty little consideration for true merit in this world! +Just because I winged a couple of cheap hack horses one day, when my +nerves weren't steady, the livery people made me stop, and one of my +fellow tenants in the old rookery threatened to have me arrested for +conducting a shooting gallery without a license. He was a dentist, and +he said the snap of the rifle worried his victims." + +The two typewriting machines outside clicked steadily. Some one knocked +at the door. + +"Come in!" shouted Balcomb. + +One of the typewriter operators entered with a brisk air of business and +handed a telegram to Balcomb, who tore it open nonchalantly. As he read +it, he tossed the crumpled envelope over his shoulder in an +absent-minded way. + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed, slapping his leg as though the news were +important. Then, to the girl, who waited with note-book and pencil in +hand: "Never mind; don't wait. I'll dictate the answer later." + +"How did it work?" he asked, turning to Leighton, who had been looking +over the books on the table. + +"How did what work?" + +"The fake. It was a fake telegram. That girl's trained to bring in a +message every time I have a caller. If the caller stays thirty minutes, +it's two messages,--in other words I'm on a fifteen-minute schedule. I +tip a boy in the telegraph office to keep me supplied with blanks. It's +a great scheme. There's nothing like a telegram to create the +impression that your office is a seething caldron of business. Old Prexy +was in town the other day. I don't suppose he ever got a dose of +electricity in his life unless he had been sorely bereft of a member of +his family and was summoned to the funeral baked meats. Say, he must +have thought I had a private wire!" + +Leighton sat down and fanned himself with his hat. + +"You'll be my death yet. You have the cheek of a nice, fresh, new +baggage-check, Balcomb." + +"Your cigar isn't burning well, Morris. Won't you try another? No? I +like my guests to be comfortable." + +"I'm comfortable enough. I'm even entertained. Go ahead and let me see +the rest of the show." + +"Oh, we haven't exactly a course of stunts here. Those are nice girls +out there. I've broken them of the chewing-gum habit, and they can +answer anxious inquiries at the door now without danger of +strangulation." + +"They seem speedy on the machine. Your correspondence must be something +vast!" + +"Um, yes. It has to be. Every cheap skate of a real estate man keeps one +stenographer. My distinction is that I keep two. They're easy +advertising. Now that little one in the pink shirt-waist that brought in +the message from Mars a moment ago is a wonder of intelligence. Do you +know what she's doing now?" + +"Trying to break the machine I should guess, from the racket." + +"Bah! It's the Lord's Prayer." + +"You mean it's a sort of prayer machine." + +"Not on your life. Maude hasn't any real work to do just now and she's +running off the Lord's Prayer. I know by the way it clicks. When she +strikes 'our daily bread' the machine always gives a little gasp. See? +The rule of the office is that they must have some diddings doing all +the time. The big one with red hair is a perfect marvel at the +Declaration of Independence. She'll be through addressing circulars in a +little while and will run off into 'All men are created equal'--a +blooming lie, by the way--without losing a stroke." + +"You _have_ passed the poetry stage, beyond a doubt. But I should think +the strain of keeping all this going would be wearing on your sensitive +poetical nature. And it must cost something." + +"Oh, yes!" Balcomb pursed his lips and stroked his fine soft beard. "But +it's worth it. I'm not playing for small stakes. I'm looking for +Christmas trees. Now they've got their eyes on me. These old Elijahs +that have been the bone and sinew of the town for so long that they +think they own it, are about done for. You can't sit in a bank here any +more and look solemn and turn people down because your corn hurts or +because the chinch-bugs have got into the wheat in Dakota or the czar +has bought the heir apparent a new toy pistol. You've got to present a +smiling countenance to the world and give the glad hand to everybody +you're likely to need in your business. I jolly everybody!" + +"That comes easy for you; but I didn't know you could make an asset of +it." + +"It's part of my working capital. Now you'd better cut loose from old +man Carr and move up here and get a suite near me. I've got more than I +can do,--I'm always needing a lawyer,--organizing companies, legality of +bonds, and so on. Dignified work. Lots of out-of-town people come here +and I'll put you in touch with them. I threw a good thing to Van Cleve +only the other day. Bond foreclosure suit for some fellows in the East +that I sell stuff to. They wrote and asked me the name of a good man. I +thought of you--old college days and all that--but Van Cleve had just +done me a good turn and I had to let him have it. But you'd better come +over. You'll never know the world's in motion in that musty old hole of +Carr's. You get timid and afraid to go near the water by staying on +shore so long. But say, Morris, you seem to be getting along pretty well +in the social push. Your name looks well in the society column. How do +you work it, anyhow?" + +"Don't expect me to give the snap away. The secret's valuable. And I'm +not really inside; I am only peering through the pickets!" + +"Tush! Get thee hence! I saw you in a box at the theater the other +night,--evidently Mrs. Carr's party. There's nothing like mixing +business with pleasure. Ah me!" + +He yawned and stroked his beard and laughed, with a fine showing of +white teeth. + +"I don't see what's pricking you with small pins of envy. You were there +with about the gayest crowd I ever saw at a theater; and it looked like +your own party." + +"Don't say a word," implored Balcomb, putting out his hand. "Members of +the board of managers of the state penitentiary, their wives, their +cousins and their aunts. Say, weren't those beauteous whiskers! My eye! +Well, the evening netted me about five hundred plunks, and I got to see +the show and to eat a good supper in the bargain. Some reformers were to +appear before them that night officially, and my friends wanted to keep +them busy. I was called into the game to do something,--hence these +tears. Lawsy! I earned my money. Did you see those women?--about two +million per cent. pure jay!" + +"You ought to cut out that sort of thing; it isn't nice." + +"Oh, you needn't be so virtuous. Carr keeps a whole corps of rascals to +spread apple-butter on the legislature corn-bread." + +"You'd better speak to him about it. He'd probably tell Mrs. Carr to ask +you to dinner right away." + +"Oh, that will come in time. I don't expect to do everything at once. +You may see me up there some time; and when you do, don't shy off like a +colt at the choo-choos. By the way, I'd like to be one of the bright +particular stars of the Dramatic Club if you can fix it. You remember +that amateur theatricals are rather in my line." + +"I do. At college you were one of the most persistent Thespians we had, +and one of the worst. But let social matters go. You haven't told me how +to get rich quick yet. I haven't had the nerve to chuck the law as you +have." + +"Well," continued Balcomb, expansively, "a fellow has got to take what +he can when he can. One swallow doesn't make a summer; one sucker +doesn't make a spring; so we must catch the birdling _en route_ or _en +passant_, as our dear professor of modern languages used to try to get +us to remark. Say, between us old college friends, I cleared up a couple +of thousand last week just too easy for any use. You know Singerly, the +popular undertaker,--Egyptian secret of embalming, lady and gentleman +attendants, night and day,--always wears a spray of immortelles in his +lapel and a dash of tuberose essence on his handkerchief. Well, Singerly +and I operated together in the smoothest way you ever saw. Excuse me!" +He lay back and howled. "Well, there was an old house up here on High +Street just where it begins to get good; very exclusive--old families +and all that. It belonged to an estate, and I got an option on it just +for fun. I began taking Singerly up there to look at it. We'd measure +it, and step it off, and stop and palaver on the sidewalk. In a day or +two those people up there began to take notice and to do me the honor to +call on me. You see, my boy, an undertaking shop--even a fashionable +one--for a neighbor, isn't pleasant; it wouldn't add, as one might say, +to the _sauce piquante_ of life; and as a reminder of our mortality--a +trifle depressing, as you will admit." + +He took the cigar from his mouth and examined the burning end of it +thoughtfully. + +"I sold the option to one of Singerly's prospective neighbors for the +matter of eleven hundred. He's a retired wholesale grocer and didn't +need the money." + +"Seems to me you're cutting pretty near the dead-line, Jack. That's not +a pretty sort of hold-up. You might as well take a sandbag and lie in +wait by night." + +"Great rhubarb! You make me tired. I'm not robbing the widow and the +orphan, but a fat old Dutchman who doesn't ask anything of life but his +sauerkraut and beer." + +"And you do! You'd better give your ethical sense a good tonic before +you butt into the penal code." + +"Come off! I've got a better scheme even than the Singerly deal. The +school board's trying to locate a few schools in up-town districts. Very +undesirable neighbors. I rather think I can make a couple of turns +there. This is all strictly _inter nos_, as Professor Morton used to say +in giving me, as a special mark of esteem, a couple of hundred extra +lines of Virgil to keep me in o' nights." + +He looked at his watch and gave the stem-key a few turns before +returning it to his pocket. + +"You'll have to excuse me, old man. I've got a date with Adams, over at +the Central States Trust Company. He's a right decent chap when you know +how to handle him. I want to get them to finance a big apartment house +scheme. I've got an idea for a flat that will make the town sit up and +gasp." + +"Don't linger on my account, Jack. I only stopped in to see whether you +kept your good spirits. I feel as though I'd had a shower bath. Come +along." + +Several men were waiting to see Balcomb in the outer office and he shook +hands with all of them and begged them to come again, taking care to +mention that he had been called to the Central States Trust Company and +had to hurry away. + +He called peremptorily to the passing elevator-car to wait, and as he +and Leighton squeezed into it, he continued his half of an imaginary +conversation in a tone that was audible to every passenger. + +"I could have had those bonds, if I had wanted them; but I knew there +was a cloud on them--the county was already over its legal limit. I +guess those St. Louis fellows will be sorry they were so +enterprising--here we are!" + +And then in a lower tone to Leighton: "That was for old man Dameron's +benefit. Did you see him jammed back in the corner of the car? Queer old +party and as tight as a drum. When I can work off some assessable and +non-interest bearing bonds on him, it'll be easy to sell Uncle Sam's +Treasury a gold brick. They say the old man has a daughter who is finer +than gold; yea, than much fine gold. I'm going to look her up, if I ever +get time. You'd better come over soon and pick out an office. _Verbum +sat sapienti_, as our loving teacher used to say. So long!" + +Leighton walked back to his office in good humor and better contented +with his own lot. + + + + +THE WICKED ZEBRA[3] + +BY FRANK ROE BATCHELDER + + + The zebra always seems malicious,-- + He kicks and bites 'most all the time; + I fear that he's not only vicious, + But guilty of some dreadful crime. + + The mere suggestion makes me falter + In writing of this wicked brute; + Although he has escaped the halter, + He wears for life a convict's suit. + +[Footnote 3: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +THE BRAKEMAN AT CHURCH + +BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE + + +One bright winter morning, the twenty-ninth day of December, Anno Domini +1879, I was journeying from Lebanon, Indiana, where I had sojourned +Sunday, to Indianapolis. I did not see the famous cedars, and I supposed +they had been used up for lead-pencils, and moth-proof chests, and +relics, and souvenirs; for Lebanon is right in the heart of the holy +land. That part of Indiana was settled by Second Adventists, and they +have sprinkled goodly names all over their heritage. As the train +clattered along, stopping at every station to trade off some people who +were tired of traveling for some other people who were tired of staying +at home, I got out my writing-pad, pointed a pencil, and wondered what +manner of breakfast I would be able to serve for the ever hungry +"Hawkeye" next morning. + +I was beginning to think I would have to disguise some "left-overs" +under a new name, as the thrifty housekeeper knows how to do, when my +colleague, my faithful yoke-fellow, who has many a time found for me a +spring of water in the desert place--the Brakeman, came down the aisle +of the car. He glanced at the tablet and pencil as I would look at his +lantern, put my right hand into a cordial compress that abode with my +fingers for ten minutes after he went away, and seating himself easily +on the arm of the seat, put the semaphore all right for me by saying: + +"Say, I went to church yesterday." + +"Good boy," I said, "and what church did you attend?" + +"Guess," was his reply. + +"Some Union Mission chapel?" I ventured. + +"N-no," he said, "I don't care to run on these branch roads very much. I +don't get a chance to go to church every Sunday, and when I can go, I +like to run on the main line, where your trip is regular, and you make +schedule time, and don't have to wait on connections. I don't care to +run on a branch. Good enough, I reckon, but I don't like it." + +"Episcopal?" I guessed. + +"Limited express!" he said, "all parlor cars, vestibuled, and two +dollars extra for a seat; fast time, and only stop at the big stations. +Elegant line, but too rich for a brakeman. All the trainmen in uniform; +conductor's punch and lanterns silver-plated; train-boys fenced up by +themselves and not allowed to offer anything but music. Passengers talk +back at the conductor. Trips scheduled through the whole year, so when +you get aboard you know just where you're going and how long it will +take you. Most systematic road in the country and has a mighty nice +class of travel. Never hear of a receiver appointed on that line. But I +didn't ride in the parlor car yesterday." + +"Universalist?" I suggested. + +"Broad gauge," the Brakeman chuckled; "does too much complimentary +business to be prosperous. Everybody travels on a pass. Conductor +doesn't get a cash fare once in fifty miles. Stops at all way-stations +and won't run into anything but a union depot. No smoking-car allowed on +the train because the company doesn't own enough brimstone to head a +match. Train orders are rather vague, though; and I've noticed the +trainmen don't get along very well with the passengers. No, I didn't go +on the broad gauge, though I have some good friends on that road who are +the best people in the world. Been running on it all their lives." + +"Presbyterian?" I hinted. + +"Narrow gauge, eh?" said the Brakeman; "pretty track; straight as a +rule; tunnel right through the heart of a mountain rather than go around +it; spirit level grade; strict rules, too; passengers have to show their +tickets before they get on the train; cars a little bit narrow for +sleepers; have to sit one in a seat and no room in the aisle to dance. +No stop-over tickets allowed; passenger must go straight through to the +station he's ticketed for, or stay off the car. When the car's full, +gates are shut; cars built at the shops to hold just so many, and no +more allowed on. That road is run right up to the rules and you don't +often hear of an accident on it. Had a head-on collision at Schenectady +union station and run over a weak bridge at Cincinnati, not many years +ago, but nobody hurt, and no passengers lost. Great road." + +"May be you rode with the Agnostics?" I tried. + +The Brakeman shook his head emphatically. + +"Scrub road," he said, "dirt road-bed and no ballast; no time-card, and +no train dispatcher. All trains run wild and every engineer makes his +own time, just as he pleases. A sort of 'smoke-if-you-want-to' road. Too +many side tracks; every switch wide open all the time, switchman sound +asleep and the target-lamp dead out. Get on where you please and get off +when you want. Don't have to show your tickets, and the conductor has no +authority to collect fare. No, sir; I was offered a pass, but I don't +like the line. I don't care to travel over a road that has no terminus. + +"Do you know, I asked a division superintendent where his road run to, +and he said he hoped to die if he knew. I asked him if the general +superintendent could tell me, and he said he didn't believe they had a +general superintendent, and if they had, he didn't know any more about +the road than the passengers did. I asked him who he reported to, and he +said, 'Nobody.' I asked a conductor who he got his orders from, and he +said he didn't take no orders from any living man or dead ghost. And +when I asked the engineer who gave him orders, he said he'd just like to +see any man on this planet try to give him orders, black-and-white or +verbal; he said he'd run that train to suit himself or he'd run it into +the ditch. Now, you see, I'm not much of a theologian, but I'm a good +deal of a railroad man, and I don't want to run on a road that has no +schedule, makes no time, has no connections, starts anywhere and runs +nowhere, and has neither signal man, train dispatcher or superintendent. +Might be all right, but I've railroaded too long to understand it." + +"Did you try the Methodist?" + +"Now you're shoutin'!" he cried with enthusiasm; "that's the hummer! +Fast time and crowds of passengers! Engines carry a power of steam, and +don't you forget it. Steam-gauge shows a hundred and enough all the +time. Lively train crews, too. When the conductor shouts 'All +a-b-o-a-r-d!' you can hear him to the next hallelujah station. Every +train lamp shines like a head-light. Stop-over privileges on all +tickets; passenger can drop off the train any time he pleases, do the +station a couple of days and hop on to the next revival train that comes +thundering along with an evangelist at the throttle. Good, whole-souled, +companionable conductors; ain't a road on earth that makes the +passengers feel more at home. No passes issued on any account; +everybody pays full traffic rate for his own ticket. Safe road, too; +well equipped; Wesleyanhouse air brakes on every train. It's a road I'm +fond of, but I didn't begin this week's run with it." + +I began to feel that I was running ashore; I tried one more lead: + +"May be you went with the Baptists?" + +"Ah, ha!" he shouted, "now you're on the Shore line! River Road, eh? +Beautiful curves, lines of grace at every bend and sweep of the river; +all steel rail and rock ballast; single track, and not a siding from the +round-house to the terminus. Takes a heap of water to run it, though; +double tanks at every station, and there isn't an engine in the shops +that can run a mile or pull a pound with less than two gauges. Runs +through a lovely country--river on one side and the hills on the other; +and it's a steady climb, up grade all the way until the run ends where +the river begins, at the fountain head. Yes, sir, I'll take the River +Road every time for a safe trip, sure connections, good time, and no +dust blowing in when you open a window. And yesterday morning, when the +conductor came around taking up fares with a little basket punch, I +didn't ask him to pass me; I paid my fare like a little +Jonah--twenty-five cents for a ninety-minute run, with a concert by the +passengers thrown in. I tell you what it is, Pilgrim, never mind your +baggage, you just secure your passage on the River Road if you want to +go to--" + +But just here the long whistle announced a station, and the Brakeman +hurried to the door, shouting-- + +"Zions-VILLE! ZIONS-ville! All out for Zionsville! This train makes no +stops between here and Indianapolis!" + + + + +HOW MR. TERRAPIN LOST HIS BEARD + +BY ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON + + +The "cook-house" stood at some little distance from the "big house," and +every evening after supper it was full of light and noise and laughter. +The light came from the fire on the huge hearth, above which hung the +crane and the great iron pots which Eliza, the cook, declared were +indispensable in the practice of her art. To be sure, there was a +cook-stove, but 'Liza was wedded to old ways and maintained there was +nothing "stove cooked" that could hope to rival the rich and nutty +flavor of ash cake, or greens "b'iled slow an' long over de ha'th, wid a +piece er bacon in de pot." + +The noise and laughter came from a circle of dusky and admiring friends, +for Aunt 'Liza was a great favorite with everybody on the plantation, +and though hunchbacked and homely, had, nevertheless, had her pick, as +she was fond of boasting, of the likeliest looking men on the place; and +though she had been twice wedded and twice widowed, aspirants were not +wanting for the position now vacant for a third time. Indeed, not long +before, a member of the family, on going to the cook-house to see why +dinner was so late, had discovered one Sam, the burly young ox-cart +driver, on his knees, pleading very earnestly with the elderly and +humpbacked little cook, while dinner simmered on and on, unnoticed and +forgotten. When remonstrated with she said that she was "'bleeged ter +have co'tin' times ez well ez de res' er folks," and intimated that in +affairs of the heart these things were apt to happen at any time or +place, and that if a gentleman chose an inopportune moment "'twan't her +fault," and no one could, with any show of reason, expect her not to pay +attention to him. She ruled everybody, her white folks included, though +just how she did it no one could say, unless she was one of those +commanding spirits and born leaders who sometimes appear even in the +humblest walks of life. It is possible that her uncommonly strong will +compelled the affections of her male admirers, but it is also possible +that she condescended to flatter, and it is certain that she fed them +well. + +One night, between supper and bedtime, the children heard the sound of a +banjo proceeding from the cook-house. They had never ventured into Aunt +'Liza's domain before, but the plinketty-plunk of the banjo, the sound +of patting and the thud of feet keeping time to the music drew them +irresistibly. Aunt Nancy was there, in the circle about the embers, as +was also her old-time foe, Aunt 'Phrony, and the banjo was in the hands +of Tim, a plow-boy, celebrated as being the best picker for miles +around. Lastly, there were Aunt 'Liza and her latest conquest, Sam, +whose hopes she could not have entirely quenched or he would not have +beamed so complacently on the assembled company. + +There was a hush as the three little heads appeared in the doorway, but +the children begged them to go on, and so Tim picked away for dear life +and Sam did a wonderful double-shuffle with the pigeon-wing thrown in. +Then Tim sang a plantation song about "Cindy Ann" that ran something +like this: + + _I'se gwine down ter Richmond, + I'll tell you w'at hit's for: + I'se gwine down ter Richmond, + Fer ter try an' end dis war._ + + _Refrain: An'-a you good-by, Cindy, Cindy, + Good-by, Cindy Ann; + An'-a you good-by, Cindy, Cindy, + I'se gwine ter Rappahan._ + + _I oon ma'y a po' gal, + I'll tell de reason w'y: + Her neck so long an' skinny + I'se 'feared she nuver die._ + + _Refrain._ + + _I oon ma'y a rich gal, + I'll tell de reason w'y: + Bekase she dip so much snuff + Her mouf is nuver dry._ + + _Refrain._ + + _I ru'rr ma'y a young gal, + A apple in her han', + Dan ter ma'y a widdy + Wid a house an' a lot er lan'._ + + _Refrain._ + +At the reference to a "widdy" he winked at the others and looked +significantly at Sam and Aunt 'Liza. Then he declared it was the turn of +the ladies to amuse the gentlemen. Aunt Nancy and Aunt 'Phrony cried, +"Hysh! Go 'way, man! W'at ken we-all do? Done too ol' fer foolishness; +leave dat ter de gals!" But 'Liza was not inclined to leave the +entertainment of gentlemen to "gals," whom she declared to be, for the +most part, "wu'fless trunnel-baid trash." + +"Come, come, Sis' 'Phrony, an' you, too, Sis' Nancy," said she, "you +knows dar ain' nu'rr pusson on de place kin beat you bofe in der marter +uv tellin' tales. I ain' nuver have de knack myse'f, but I knows a good +tale w'en I years hit, an' I bin gittin' myse'f fixed fer one uver sence +you comed in." + +The children added their petitions, seconded by Tim and Sam. Aunt Nancy +looked as if she were feeling around in the dusk of half-forgotten +things for a dimly remembered story, perceiving which the nimbler-witted +Aunt 'Phrony made haste to say that she believed she knew a story which +might please the company if they were not too hard to suit. They +politely protested that such was far from being the case, whereupon she +began the story of how the Terrapin lost his beard. + +"Um-umph!" snorted Aunt Nancy, "who uver year tell uv a tarr'pin wid a +by'ud!" + +"Look-a-yer, ooman," said 'Phrony, "who tellin' dis, me er you? You +s'pose I'se talkin' 'bout de li'l ol' no-kyount tarr'pins dey has dese +days? Naw, suh! I'se tellin' 'bout de ol' time Tarr'pin whar wuz a gre't +chieft an' a big fighter, an' w'ensomuver tu'rr creeturs come roun' an' +try ter pay him back, he jes' drord his haid in his shell an' dar he +wuz. Dish yer ain' no ol' nigger tale, neener, dish yer a Injun tale +whar my daddy done tol' me w'en I wan't no bigger'n Miss Janey. He say +dat sidesen de by'ud, Tarr'pin had big wattles hangin' down beneaf his +chin, jes' lak de tukkey-gobblers has dese days. Him an' Mistah Wi'yum +Wil'-tukkey wuz mighty good fren's dem times, an' Tukkey he thought +Tarr'pin wuz a monst'ous good-lookin' man. He useter mek gre't 'miration +an' say, 'Mistah Tarry-long Tarr'pin, you sut'n'y is a harnsum man. Dar +ain' nu'rr creetur in dese parts got such a by'ud an' wattles ez w'at +you is.' + +"Den Tarr'pin he'd stroke down de by'ud an' swell out de wattles an' +say, 'Sho! sho! Mistah Tukkey, you done praise dese yer heap mo'n w'at +dey is wuf,' but all de same he wuz might'ly please', fer dar's nuttin' +lak a li'l bit er flatt'ry fer ilin' up de j'ints an' mekin' folks +limbersome in der feelin's. + +"Tukkey git ter thinkin' so much 'bout de by'ud an' de wattles dat seem +ter him ez ef he kain't git long no-hows lessen he have some fer +hisse'f, 'kase in dem days de gobblers ain' have none. He study an' he +study, but he kain't see whar he kin git 'em, an' de mo' he study de mo' +he hone atter 'em. Las' he git so sharp set atter 'em dat he ain' kyare +how he git 'em, jes' so he git 'em, an' den he mek up his min' he gwine +tek 'em 'way f'um Tarr'pin. So one day w'en he met up wid him in de road +he stop him an' bob his haid an' mek his manners mighty p'litely, an' he +say, sezee, 'Mawnin', Mistah Tarry-long, mawnin'. How you come on dis +day? I ain' hatter ax you, dough, 'kase you done look so sprucy wid yo' +by'ud all comb' out an' yo' wattles puff' up. I wish, suh, you lemme +putt 'em on fer a minnit, so's't I kin see ef I becomes 'em ez good ez +w'at you does.' + +"Ol' man Tarr'pin mighty easy-goin' an' commodatin', so he say, 'W'y, +sut'n'y, Mistah Tukkey, you kin tek 'em an' welcome fer a w'iles.' So +Tukkey he putts 'em on an' moseys down ter de branch ter look at hisse'f +in de water. 'Whoo-ee!' sezee ter hisse'f, 'ain' I de caution in dese +yer fixin's! I'se saw'y fer de gals now, I sut'n'y is, 'kase w'at wid my +shape an' dish yer by'ud an' wattles, dar gwine be some sho'-'nuff +heart-smashin' roun' dese diggin's, you year me sesso!' + +"Den he go struttin' back, shakin' de by'ud an' swellin' put de wattles +an' jes' mo'n steppin' high an' prancin' w'ile he sing: + + _'Cle'r outen de way fer ol' Dan Tucker, + You'se too late ter git yo' supper.'_ + +"Den he say, sezee, 'Mistah Tarr'pin, please, suh, ter lemme keep dese +yer? I b'lieve I becomes 'em mo'n w'at you does, 'kase my neck so long +an' thin seem lak I needs 'em ter set hit off mo'n w'at you does wid dat +shawt li'l neck er yo'n whar you keeps tuck 'way in yo' shell half de +time, anyways. Sidesen dat, you is sech a runt dat you g'long draggin' +de by'ud on de groun', an' fus' news you know hits 'bleeged ter be wo' +out. You bes' lemme have hit, 'kase I kin tek good kyare uv hit.' + +"Den Tarr'pin say, sezee, 'I lak ter 'commodate you, Mistah Tukkey, but +I ain' see how I kin. I done got so use ter runnin' my fingers thu de +by'ud an' spittin' over hit w'en I'se settin' roun' thinkin' er talkin' +dat I dunno how I kin do widout hit, an' I kain't git long, no-how, +widout swellin' up de wattles w'en I git tetched in my feelin's. Sidesen +dat, I kin tek kyare er de by'ud, ef I _is_ a runt; I bin doin' it a +good w'ile, an' she ain' wo' out yit. So please, suh, ter han' me over +my fixin's.' + +"'Not w'iles I got any wind lef' in me fer runnin',' sez de Tukkey, +sezee, an' wid dat he went a-scootin', ol' man Tarr'pin atter him, +hot-foot. Dey went scrabblin' up de mountains an' down de mountains, an' +'twuz pull Dick, pull devil, fer a w'ile. Dey kain't neener one uv 'em +climb up ve'y fas', but w'en dey git ter de top, Tukkey he fly down an' +Tarr'pin he jes' natchully turn over an' roll down. But Tukkey git de +start an' keep hit. W'en Tarr'pin roll to de bottom uv a mountain den +he'd see Tukkey at de top er de nex' one. Dey kep' hit up dis-a-way +'cross fo' ridges, an' las' Tarr'pin he plumb wo' out an' he see he +wan't gwine ketch up at dat rate, so he gin up fer dat day. Den he go +an' hunt up de cunjerers an' ax 'em fer ter he'p him. He say, 'Y'all +know dat by'ud an' wattles er mine? Well, I done loan 'em to Mistah +Wi'yum Wil'-tukkey, 'kase he wuz my fren' an' he done ax me to. An' now +he turn out ter be no-kyount trash, an' w'at I gwine do? You bin knowin' +I is a slow man, an' if I kain't git some he'p, I hatter say good-by +by'ud an' wattles.'" + +"What are 'cunjerers,' Aunt 'Phrony?" said Ned. + +"Well now, honey," said she, "I dunno ez I kin jes' rightly tell you, +but deys w'at de Injuns calls 'medincin'-men,' an' dey doctors de sick +folks an' he'ps de hunters ter git game an' de gals ter git beaux, an' +putts spells on folks an' mek 'em do jes' 'bout w'at dey want 'em to. +An' so dese yer cunjerers dey goes off by derse'fs an' has a confab an' +den dey come back an' tell Mistah Tarr'pin dat dey reckon dey done fix +Mistah Tukkey dis time. + +"'W'at you done wid him?' sezee. + +"'We ain' ketch 'im,' dey ses, 'we lef' dat fer you, dat ain' ow' +bizness, but we done fix him up so't you kin do de ketchin' yo'se'f.' + +"'W'at has you done to him, den?' sezee. + +"'Son', dey ses, 'we done putt a lot er li'l bones in his laigs, an' dat +gwine slow him up might'ly, an' we 'pends on you ter do de res', 'kase +we knows dat you is a gre't chieft.' + +"Den Tarr'pin amble long 'bout his bizness an' neener stop ner res' +ontwel he met up wid Tukkey onct mo'. He ax fer his by'ud an' wattles +ag'in, but Tukkey jes' turnt an' stept out f'um dat, Tarr'pin atter him. +But seem lak de cunjerers thought Mistah Tarr'pin wuz faster'n w'at he +wuz, er dat Mistah Tukkey 'z slower'n w'at _he_ wuz, 'kase Tarr'pin ain' +nuver ketch up wid him yit, an' w'ats mo', de tarr'pins is still doin' +widout by'uds an' wattles an' de gobblers is still wearin' 'em an' +swellin' roun' showin' off ter de gals, steppin' ez high ez ef dem li'l +bones w'at de cunjerers putt dar wan't still in der laigs, an' struttin' +lak dey wuz sayin' ter ev'y pusson dey meets: + + _'Cle'r outen de way fer ol' Dan Tucker, + You'se too late ter git yo' supper.'"_ + + + + +THE CRITIC + +BY WILLIAM J. LAMPTON + + + Behold + The Critic, bold and cold, + Who sits in judgment on + The twilight and the dawn + Of literature, + And, eminently sure, + Informs his age + What printed page + Is destined to be great. + His word is Fate, + And what he writes + Is greater far + Than all the books + He writes of are. + His pen + Is dipped in boom + Or doom; + And when + He says one book is rot, + And that another's not, + That ends it. He + Is pure infallibility, + And any book he judges must + Be blessed or cussed + By all mankind, + Except the blind + Who will not see + The master's modest mastery. + His fiat stands + Against the uplifted hands + Of thousands who protest + And buy the books + That they like best; + But what of that? + He knows where he is at, + And they don't. And why + Shouldn't he be high + Above them as the clouds + Are high above the brooks, + For God, He made the Critic, + And man, he makes the books. + See? + Gee whiz, + What a puissant potentate the Critic is. + + + + +THE ASSOCIATED WIDOWS + +BY KATHARINE M. ROOF + + +The confirmed bachelor sat apart, fairly submerged by a sea of Sunday +papers; yet a peripheral consciousness of the ladies' presence was +revealed in his embryonic smile. + +He folded over a voluminous sheet containing an account of the latest +murder, and glanced at a half-page picture, labeled, "The Scene of the +Crime." + +"Was there ever yet a woman that could keep a secret," he demanded, +apparently of the newspaper. "Now, if this poor fellow had only kept his +little plans to himself--but, of course, he had to go and tell some +woman." + +"Looks like the man didn't know how to keep his secret that time," +returned Mrs. Pendleton with a smile calculated to soften harsh +judgments against her sex. + +"There are some secrets woman can keep," observed Elsie Howard. Her gaze +happened to rest upon Mrs. Pendleton's golden hair. + +"For instance," demanded the confirmed bachelor. (His name was Barlow.) + +"Oh--her age for one thing." Elsie withdrew her observant short-sighted +eyes from Mrs. Pendleton's crowning glory, and a smile barely touched +the corners of her expressively inexpressive mouth. Mrs. Pendleton +glanced up, faintly suspicious of that last remark. + +Mr. Barlow laughed uproariously. In the two years that he had been a +"guest" in Mrs. Howard's boarding-house he had come to regard Miss Elsie +as a wit, and it was his habit--like the Italians at the opera--to give +his applause before the closing phrases were delivered. + +"I guess that's right. You hit it that time. That's one secret a woman +can keep." He chuckled appreciatively. + +Mrs. Pendleton laughed less spontaneously than usual and said, "It +certainly was a dangerous subject," that "she had been looking for +silver hairs amongst the gold herself lately." And again Elsie's eyes +were attracted to the hairs under discussion. For three months now she +had questioned that hair. At night it seemed above reproach in its +infantile fairness, but in the crude unkind daylight there was a garish +insistence about it that troubled the eye. + +At that moment the door opened and Mrs. Hilary came in with her bonnet +on. She glanced around with frigid greeting. + +"So I'm not late to dinner after all. I had thought you would be at +table. The tram was so slow I was sorry I had not walked and saved the +fare." She spoke with an irrational rising and falling of syllables that +at once proclaimed her nationality. She was a short, compact little +woman with rosy cheeks, abundant hair and a small tight mouth. Mrs. +Hilary was a miniature painter by choice and a wife and mother by +accident. She was subject to lapses in which she unquestionably forgot +the twins' existence. She recalled them suddenly now. + +"Has any one seen Gladys and Gwendolen? Dear, dear, I wonder where they +are. They wouldn't go to church with me. Those children are such a +responsibility." + +"But they are such happy children," said gentle little Mrs. Howard, who +had come in at the beginning of this speech. In her heart Mrs. Howard +dreaded the long-legged, all-pervasive twins, but she pitied the +widowed and impoverished little artist. "So sad," she was wont to say +to her intimates in describing her lodger, "a young widow left all alone +in a foreign country." + +"But one would hardly call America a foreign country to an +Englishwoman," one friend had interpolated at this point. + +"Yes, I know," Mrs. Howard had acknowledged, "but she _seems_ foreign. +Her husband was an American, I believe, and he evidently left her with +almost nothing. He must have been very unkind to her, she has such a +dislike of Americans. She wasn't able to give the regular price for the +rooms, but I couldn't refuse her--I felt so sorry for her." + +Mrs. Howard liked to "feel sorry for" people. Yet she was apt to find +herself at sea in attempting to sympathize with Mrs. Hilary. She was a +sweet-faced, tired-looking little woman with a vague smile and dreamy +eyes. About five years ago Mrs. Howard had had "reverses" and had been +forced by necessity to live to violate the sanctity of her hearth and +home; grossly speaking, she had been obliged to take boarders, no +feasible alternative seeming to suggest itself. The old house in +Eleventh Street, in which she had embarked upon this cheerless career, +had never been a home for her or her daughter. Yet an irrepressible +sociability of nature enabled her to find a certain pleasure in the life +impossible to her more reserved daughter. + +As they all sat around now in the parlor, into which the smell of the +Sunday turkey had somehow penetrated, a few more guests wandered in and +sat about provisionally on the impracticable parlor furniture, waiting +for the dinner signal. Mrs. Howard bravely tried to keep up the +simulation of social interchange with which she ever pathetically +strove to elevate the boarding-house intercourse into the decency of a +chosen association. + +Suddenly there came a thump and a crash against the door and the twins +burst in, their jackets unbuttoned, their dusty picture hats awry. + +"Oh! mater, mater!" they cried tumultuously, dancing about her. + +"Such sport, mater. We fed the elephant." + +"And the rabbits--" + +"And a monkey carried off Gwendolen's gloves--" + +"Children," exclaimed Mrs. Hilary impotently, looking from one to the +other, "where _have_ you been?" (She pronounced it bean.) + +"To the park, mater--" + +"To see the animals--" + +"Oh, mater, you should see the ducky little baby lion!" + +"What is it that they call you?" inquired a perpetually smiling young +kindergartner who had just taken possession of a top-floor hall-room. + +Mrs. Hilary glanced at her slightingly. + +"What is it that they _call_ me? Why, mater, of course." + +"Ah, yes," the girl acquiesced pleasantly. "I remember now; it's +English, of course." + +"Oh, no," returned Mrs. Hilary instructively, "it's not English; it's +Latin." + +The kindergartner was silent. Mrs. Pendleton suppressed a chuckle that +strongly suggested her "mammy." Mr. Barlow grinned and Elsie Howard's +mouth twitched. + +"They are such picturesque children," Mrs. Howard put in hastily. "I +wonder you don't paint them oftener." + +"I declare I just wish I could paint," Mrs. Pendleton contributed +sweetly, "I think it's such pretty work." + +Mrs. Hilary was engrossed in the task of putting the twins to rights. + +"I don't know what to do with them, they are quite unmanageable," she +sighed. "It's so bad for them--bringing them up in a lodging-house." + +Mrs. Howard flushed and Mrs. Pendleton's eyes flashed. The dinner bell +rang and Elsie Howard rose with a little laugh. + +"An English mother with American children! What do you expect, Mrs. +Hilary?" + +Mrs. Hilary was busy retying a withered blue ribbon upon the left side +of Gladys' brow. She looked up to explain: + +"They are only half-American, you know. But their manners are getting +quite ruined with these terrible American children." + +Then they filed down into the basement dining-room for the noon dinner. + +"Horrid, rude little Cockney," Mrs. Pendleton whispered in Elsie +Howard's ear. + +The girl smiled faintly. "Oh, she doesn't know she is rude. She is +just--English." + +Mrs. Howard, over the characterless soup, wondered what it was about the +little English artist that seemed so "different." Conversation with Mrs. +Hilary developed such curious and unexpected difficulties. Mrs. Howard +looked compassionately over at the kindergartner who, with the +hopefulness of inexperience, started one subject after another with her +unresponsive neighbor. What quality was it in Mrs. Hilary that +invariably brought both discussion and pleasantry to a standstill? +Elsie, upon whom Mrs. Howard depended for clarification of her thought, +would only describe it as "English." In her attempts to account for this +alien presence in her household, Mrs. Howard inevitably took refuge in +the recollection of Mrs. Hilary's widowhood. This moving thought +occurring to her now caused her to glance in the direction of Mrs. +Pendleton's black dress and her face lightened. Mrs. Pendleton was of +another sort. Mrs. Pendleton had proved, as Mrs. Howard always expressed +it, "quite an acquisition to our circle." She felt almost an affection +for the merry, sociable talkative Southern woman, with her invariable +good spirits, her endless fund of appropriate platitude and her ready, +superficial sympathy. Mrs. Pendleton had "come" through a cousin of a +friend of a friend of Mrs. Howard's, and these vague links furnished +unlimited material for conversation between the two women. Mrs. +Pendleton was originally from Savannah, and the names which flowed in +profusion from her lips were of unimpeachable aristocracy. Pendleton was +a very "good name" in the South, Mrs. Howard had remarked to Elsie, and +went on to cite instances and associations. + +Besides those already mentioned, the household consisted of three old +maids, who had been with Mrs. Howard from her first year; a pensive art +student with "paintable" hair; a deaf old gentleman whose place at table +was marked by a bottle of lithia tablets; a chinless bank clerk, who had +jokes with the waitress, and a silent man who spoke only to request +food. + +Mr. Barlow occupied, and frankly enjoyed the place between Miss Elsie +and Mrs. Pendleton. He found the widow's easy witticisms, stock +anecdotes and hackneyed quotations of unfailing interest and her obvious +coquetry irresistible. Mr. Barlow took life and business in a most +un-American spirit of leisure. He never found fault with the food or the +heating arrangements, and never precipitated disagreeable arguments at +table. All things considered, he was probably the most contented spirit +in the house. + +The talk at table revolved upon newspaper topics, the weather, the +health of the household, and a comparison of opinions about plays and +actresses. At election times it was strongly tinged with politics, and +on Sundays, popular preachers were introduced, with some expression as +to what was and was not good taste in the pulpit. Among the feminine +portion a fair amount of time was devoted to a review of the comparative +merits of shops. + +Mrs. Pendleton's conversation, however, had a somewhat wider range, for +she had traveled. Just what topics were favored in those long undertone +conversations with Mr. Barlow only Elsie Howard could have told, as the +seat on the other side of the pair was occupied by the deaf old +gentleman. There were many covert glances and much suppressed laughter, +but neither of the two old maids opposite were able to catch the drift +of the low-voiced dialogue, so it remained a tantalizing mystery. Mrs. +Pendleton, when pleased to be general in her attentions, proved to be, +as Mrs. Howard had said, "an acquisition." She spoke most entertainingly +of Egypt, of Japan and Hawaii. Yet all these experiences seemed tinged +with a certain sadness, as they had evidently been associated with the +last days of the late Mr. Pendleton. They had crossed the Pyrenees when +"poor Mr. Pendleton was so ill he had to be carried every inch of the +way." In Egypt, "sometimes it seemed like he couldn't last another day. +But I always did say 'while there is life there is hope,'" she would +recall pensively, "and the doctors all said the only hope _for_ his life +was in constant travel, and so we were always, as you might say, seeking +'fresh fields and pastures new.'" + +Then Mrs. Howard's gentle eyes would fill with sympathy. "Poor Mrs. +Pendleton," she would often say to Elsie after one of these distressing +allusions. "How terrible it must have been. Think of seeing some one +you love dying that way, by inches before your eyes. She must have been +very fond of him, too. She always speaks of him with so much feeling." + +"Yes," said Elsie with untranslatable intonation. "I wonder what he died +of." + +"I don't know," returned her mother regretfully. She had no curiosity, +but she had a refined and well-bred interest in diseases. "I never heard +her mention it and I didn't like to ask." + +"Poor Mrs. Howard," Mrs. Pendleton was wont to say with her facile +sympathy. "_So_ hard for her to have to take strangers into her home. I +believe she was left without anything at her husband's death; mighty +hard for a woman at her age." + +"How long has her husband been dead?" the other boarder to whom she +spoke would sometimes inquire. + +Mrs. Pendleton thought he must have been dead some time, although she +had never heard them say, exactly. "You never hear Elsie speak of him," +she added, "so I reckon she doesn't remember him right well." + +As the winter wore on the tendency to tête-à-tête between Mrs. Pendleton +and Mr. Barlow became more marked. They lingered nightly in the chilly +parlor in the glamour of the red lamp after the other guests had left. +It was discovered that they had twice gone to the theater together. The +art student had met them coming in late. As a topic of conversation +among the boarders the affair was more popular than food complaints. A +subtile atmosphere of understanding enveloped the two. It became so +marked at last that even Mrs. Hilary perceived it--although Elsie always +insisted that Gladys had told her. + +One afternoon in the spring, as Mrs. Pendleton was standing on the +door-step preparing to fit the latch-key into the lock, the door opened +and a man came out uproariously, followed by Gladys and Gwendolen, who, +in some inexplicable way, always had the effect of a crowd of children. +The man was tall and not ill-looking. Mrs. Pendleton was attired in +trailing black velveteen, a white feather boa, and a hat covered with +tossing plumes, and the hair underneath was aggressively golden. A +potential smile hovered about her lips and her glance lingered in +passing. Inside the house she bent a winning smile upon Gwendolen, who +was the less sophisticated of the two children. + +"Who's your caller, honey?" + +"That's the pater," replied Gwendolen with her mouth full of candy. "He +brought us some sweets. You may have one if you wish." + +"Your--your father," translated Mrs. Pendleton with a gasp. She was +obliged to lean against the wall for support. + +The twins nodded, their jaws locked with caramel. + +"He doesn't come very often," Gladys managed to get out indistinctly. "I +wish he would." + +"I suppose his business keeps him away," suggested Mrs. Pendleton. + +Gladys glanced up from a consideration of the respective attractions of +a chocolate cream and caramel. + +"He says it is incompatibility of humor," she repeated glibly. Gladys +was more than half American. + +"Of _humor_!" Mrs. Pendleton's face broke up into ripples of delight. +She flew at once to Mrs. Howard's private sitting room, arriving all out +of breath and exploded her bomb immediately. + +"My dear, did you know that Mrs. Hilary is _not_ a widow?" + +"Not a widow!" repeated Mrs. Howard with dazed eyes. + +"I met her husband right now at the door. He was telling the children +good-by. He isn't any more dead than I am." + +"Not dead!" repeated Mrs. Howard, collapsing upon the nearest chair with +all the prostration a news bearer's heart could desire. "And she was +always talking about what he _used_ to do and _used_ to think and _used_ +to say. Why--why I can't believe it." + +"True as preachin'," declared Mrs. Pendleton, adding that you could have +knocked her down with a feather when she discovered it. + +Elsie Howard came into her mother's room just then and Mrs. Pendleton +repeated the exciting news, adding, "Gladys says they don't live +together because of incompatibility of humor!" + +Elsie smiled and remarked that it certainly was a justifiable ground for +separation and unkindly went off, leaving the subject undeveloped. + +The next day Mrs. Howard had a caller. It was the friend whose cousin +had a friend that had known Mrs. Pendleton. In the process of +conversation the caller remarked casually: + +"So Mrs. Pendleton has got her divorce at last." + +Mrs. Howard smiled vaguely and courteously. + +"Some connection of our Mrs. Pendleton? I don't think I have heard her +mention it. Dear me, isn't it dreadful how common divorce is getting to +be!" + +The guest stared. + +"You don't mean to say--why, my dear Mrs. Howard--is it _possible_ you +don't know? It _is_ your Mrs. Pendleton." + +Mrs. Howard remained looking at her friend. Once or twice her lips moved +but no words came. + +"Her husband is dead," she said at last, faintly. + +The caller laughed. "Then he must have died yesterday. Why, didn't you +know that was the reason she spent last year in Colorado?" + +"For her husband's health," gasped Mrs. Howard, clinging to the last +shred of her six months' belief in Mrs. Pendleton's widowhood. "I always +had an impression that it was there he died." + +The other woman laughed heartlessly. "Did she tell you he was dead?" + +Mrs. Howard collected her scattered faculties and tried to think. + +"No," she said at last. "Now that you speak of it, I don't believe she +ever did. But she certainly gave that impression. She seemed to be +always telling of his last illness and his last days. She never actually +mentioned the details of his death--but then, how could she--poor +thing?" + +"She couldn't, of course. That would have been asking too much." Mrs. +Howard's guest went off again into peals of unseemly laughter. + +When her caller had left, Mrs. Howard climbed up to the chilly skylight +room occupied by her daughter and dropped upon the bed, exclaiming: + +"Well, I never would have believed it of Mrs. Pendleton!" + +Elsie, who was standing before her mirror, regarded her mother in the +glass. + +"What's up. Has she eloped with Billie Barlow at last?" + +Mrs. Howard tried to say it, but became inarticulate with emotion. After +five minutes of preamble and exclamation, her daughter was in possession +of the fact. + +"That explains about her hair," was Elsie's only comment. "I am so +relieved to have it settled at last." + +"Why didn't she tell me?" wailed Mrs. Howard. + +"Oh, people don't always tell those things." + +Mrs. Howard was silent. + +As they passed the parlor door on their way down to dinner, Mrs. +Pendleton's merry laugh rang out and Elsie caught a glimpse of the +golden hair under the red lamp and the fugitive glimpse of Mr. Barlow's +bald spot. + +About two days later, as the girl came in from an afternoon's shopping, +and was on her way upstairs, her mother called to her. Something in the +sound of it attracted her attention. She hurried down the few steps and +into her mother's room. Mrs. Howard was sitting over by the window in +the fading light, with a strange look upon her face. An open telegram +lay in her lap. Elsie went up to her quickly. + +"What is it, mother?" + +Mrs. Howard handed her the telegram. + +"Your father," she said. + +Elsie Howard read the simple announcement in silence. Then she looked +up, the last trace of an old bitterness in her faint smile. + +"We will miss him," she said. + +"Elsie!" cried her mother. It was a tone the girl had never heard from +her before. Her eyes fell. + +"No, it wasn't nice to say it. I am sorry. But I can't forget what life +was with him." She raised her eyes to her mother's. "It was simply hell, +mother; you can't have forgotten. You have said it yourself so often. We +can not deny that it is a relief to know--" + +"Hush, Elsie, never let me hear you say anything like that again." + +"Forgive me, mother," said the girl with quick remorse. "I never will. I +don't think I have ever felt that death makes such things so different, +and I didn't realize how you would--look at it." + +"My child, he was your father," said Mrs. Howard in a low voice. Then +Elsie saw the tears in her mother's eyes. + + * * * * * + +"_Such_ a shock to her," Mrs. Pendleton murmured, sympathetically, to +Elsie. "I know, Miss Elsie; I can feel for her--" Elsie mechanically +thought of the last hours of Mr. Pendleton, then recalled herself with a +start. "Death always _is_ a shock," Mrs. Pendleton finished gracefully, +"even when one most expects it. You must let me know if there is +anything I can do." + +Later in the evening she communicated the astonishing news to Mrs. +Hilary, who ejaculated freely: "Only fancy!" and "How very +extraordinary!" + +"Didn't you think he had been dead a hundred years?" exclaimed Mrs. +Pendleton. + +"One never can tell in the states," responded Mrs. Hilary +conservatively. "Divorce is so common over here. It isn't the thing at +all in England, you know." + +Mrs. Pendleton stared. + +"But they were not divorced, only separated. Do you never do that--in +England?" + +"Divorced people are not received at court, you know," explained Mrs. +Hilary. + +Mrs. Pendleton's glance lingered upon the Englishwoman's immobile face +and a laugh broke into her words. + +"But when you are in Rome, you do as the Romans--is that it, Mrs. +Hilary?" But the shot glanced off harmlessly from the thick armor of +British literalness. + +"In Rome divorce doesn't exist at all," she graciously informed her +companion. "The Romish church does not permit it, you know." + +The American woman looked at the Englishwoman more in sorrow than in +anger. + +"How," she reflected, "is one to be revenged like a lady upon an +Englishwoman?" + +It was about a week later that Mrs. Pendleton, finding herself alone +with Mrs. Howard and Elsie, made the final announcement. + +"I hope you-all will be ready to dance at my wedding next month. It's +going to be very quiet, but I couldn't think of being married without +you and Miss Elsie--and Mr. Barlow, he feels just like I do about it." + + + + +WOMEN AND BARGAINS + +BY NINA R. ALLEN + + +Show me the woman who in her heart of hearts does not delight in a +bargain, and I will tell you that she is a dead woman. + +I who write this, after having triumphantly passed bargain counters of +every description, untempted by ribbons worth twenty-five cents but +selling for nineteen, insensible to dimities that had sold for nineteen +cents but were offered at six and a fourth cents a yard, and--though I +have a weakness for good cooking utensils--blind to the attractions of a +copper tea-kettle whose former price was now cut in two, at last fell a +victim to a green-and-white wicker chair. + +This is how it happened. I asked the price. Eight dollars, replied the +shop-keeper. No. It was a ten-dollar chair. But he had said eight. It +was a mistake. Nevertheless he would keep his word. I could have it for +eight. What heart of woman could resist a bargain like this? Besides, I +thought such honesty ought to be encouraged. It is but too uncommon in +this wicked world. And--well, I really wanted the chair. How could a +woman help wanting it when she found that the salesman had made an error +of two dollars? It was a ten-dollar chair, the shop-keeper repeated. I +saw the tag marked "Lax, Jxxx Mxx." There could be no doubt of it. + +I gazed and gazed, but finally went on, like the seamen of Ulysses, +deafening myself to the siren-voice. And though I had hesitated, I +might not have been lost; but returning by the same route, I saw a +neighboring druggist rush into that store bareheaded, as I now suppose +to change a bill. Need I say that I then thought he had come for my +chair? Need I say that I then and there bought that chair? + +Thus have I brought shame on a judicious parent--not my mother--who has +conscientiously labored to teach me that the way of the bargain-hunter +is hard. + +As well might man attempt to deprive the cat of its mew or the dog of +its bark as to eliminate from the female breast the love of bargains. It +has been burned in with the centuries. Eve, poor soul, doubtless never +knew the happiness of swarming with other women round a big table piled +with remnants of rumpled table-linen, mis-mated towels and soiled +dresser-scarfs, or the pleasure of carrying off the bolt of last fall's +ribbon on which another woman had her eye; nor had she the proud +satisfaction of bringing home to her unfortunate partner a shirt with a +bosom like a checker-board, that had been marked down to sixty-three +cents. But history, since her day, is not lacking in bargains of various +kinds, of which woman has had her share, though no doubt Anniversary +Sales, Sensational Mill End Sales, and Railroad Wreck Sales are +comparatively modern. + +A woman's pleasure in a good bargain is akin to the rapture engendered +in the feminine bosom by successful smuggling. It is perhaps a purer +joy. The satisfaction of acquiring something one does not need, or of +buying an article which one may have some use for in the future, simply +because it is cheap or because Mrs. X. paid seventeen cents more for the +same thing at a bargain-sale, can not be understood by a mere man. + +Once in a while some stupid masculine creature endeavors to show his +wife that she is losing the use of her money by tying it up in +embroideries for decorating cotton which is still in the fields of the +South, or laying it out in summer dress-goods when snow-storms can not +be far distant. The use of her money forsooth! What is money for except +to spend? And if she didn't buy embroideries and dimities, she would +purchase something else with it. + +So she goes on hunting bargains, or rather profiting by those that come +in her way, for generally it is not necessary to search for them. These +little snares of the merchant are only too common in this age, when +everything from cruisers to clothes-pins and pianos to prunes may often +be had at a stupendous sacrifice. + +A man usually goes to a shop where he believes that he will run little +or no risk of being deceived in the quality of the goods, even though +prices be higher there than at some other places. A woman thinks she +knows a bargain when she sees it. + +She is aware that the store-keeper has craftily spread his web of +bargains, hoping that when lured into his shop she will buy other things +not bargains. But she determines beforehand that she will not be cajoled +into purchasing anything but the particular bargain of her +desire,--unless--unless she sees something else which she really wants. +And generally, she sees something else which she really wants. + +Most women are tolerably good judges of a bargain, and therefore have +some ground for their confidence in themselves. I have seen a Christmas +bargain-table containing china and small ornaments of various wares, +completely honeycombed of its actual bargains by veteran +bargain-hunters, who left unpurchased as if by instinct goods from the +regular stock, offered at usual prices. + +Bargains are a boon to the woman of moderate means. The deepest joys of +bargain-hunting are not known to the rich, though they by no means +disdain a bargain. To them is not given the delight of saving long, and +waiting for a bargain sale, and at last possessing the thin white china +or net curtains ardently desired and still out of reach at regular +prices. But they have some compensation. They have the advantage not +only of ready money, which makes a bargain available at any time, but +also that of leisure. + +While my lady of the slender purse is still getting the children ready +for school, or exhorting Bridget not to burn the steak that will be +entrusted to her tender mercies, they can swoop down upon a bargain and +bear it away victoriously. + +A fondness for bargains is not without its dangers, for with some people +the appetite grows with what it feeds on, to the detriment of their +purses as well as of their outlook on life. To them, all the world +becomes a bargain-counter. + +A few years ago in a city which shall be nameless, two women looked into +the windows of a piano-store. In one, was an ancient instrument marked +"1796"; in the other, a beautiful modern piano labeled "1896." "Why," +said one of the gazers to her companion, indicating the latter, "I'd a +good deal rather pay the difference for this one, wouldn't you?" + +This is no wild invention of fiction, but a bald fact. So strong had the +ruling passion become in that feminine heart. + +Upon a friend of mine, the bargain habit has taken so powerful a hold +that almost any sort of a bargain appeals to her. She is the owner of a +fine parrot, yet not long ago she bought another, which had cost fifteen +dollars, but was offered to her for ten. Its feathers were bedraggled +and grimy, for it had followed its mistress about like a dog; it proved +to be so cross that at first it had to be fed from the end of a stick; +and though represented as a brilliant talker, its discourse was found to +be limited to "Wow!" and "Rah! Rah!"--but it was a bargain. + +To be sure, she didn't really need two parrots, but had she not saved +five dollars on this one? + +The most elusive kind of bargain is that set forth in alluring +advertisements as a small lot, perhaps three, four, or two dozen +articles of a kind, offered at a price unprecedentedly low. + +When you reach the store, you are generally told that they--whatever +they may be--are all gone. The other woman so often arrives earlier than +you, apparently, that finally you come to doubt their existence. + +Once in a while, if you are eminent among your fellows by some gift of +nature, as is an acquaintance of mine, you may chase down one of these +will-o'-the-wisps. + +He--yes, it is he, for what woman would own to a number ten foot even +for the sake of a bargain?--saw a fire sale advertised, with men's shoes +offered at a dollar a pair. He went to the store. Sure enough, a fire +had occurred somewhere, but not there. It was sufficiently near, +however, for a fire sale. + +A solitary box was brought out, whose edges were scorched, as by a match +passed over them; within was a pair of number ten shoes. Number tens +alone, whether one pair or more, I wot not, represented their gigantic +fire sale. And I can not say how many men had come only to be confronted +with tens, before this masculine Cinderella triumphantly filled their +capacious maws with his number ten feet, and gleefully carried off what +may have been the only bargain in the shop. + +In spite of the suspicions of some doubting Thomases who regard all +bargains as snares and delusions, it is certain that many real bargains +are offered among the numerous things advertised as such; but to profit +by them, I may add, one must have an aptitude, either natural or +acquired, for bargains. + +P.S.--I have just learned that my wicker chair would not have been very +cheap at six dollars. + + + + +FABLE + +BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON + + + The mountain and the squirrel + Had a quarrel, + And the former called the latter "Little Prig"; + Bun replied, + "You are doubtless very big; + But all sorts of things and weather + Must be taken in together, + To make up a year + And a sphere, + And I think it no disgrace + To occupy my place. + If I'm not so large as you, + You are not so small as I, + And not half so spry. + I'll not deny you make + A very pretty squirrel track; + Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; + If I can not carry forests on my back, + Neither can you crack a nut." + + + + +THE WOMAN-HATER REFORMED + +BY ROY FARRELL GREENE + + + He said to sue for maiden's heart + And hand required too much of art + In framing phrases, making pleas, + And swearing vows on bended knees + "Till death (or court decree) doth part." + + One's oh, so apt to get the cart + Before the horse, and at the start + Break down. It's torture by degrees, + He said, to sue! + + Yet when sweet Susan, coy but smart, + Safe landed him, and Cupid's dart + Went through his breast as through a cheese, + And pierced his heart with perfect ease, + He--well, I'll not the words impart + He said to Sue! + + + + +HOW MR. TERRAPIN LOST HIS PLUMAGE AND WHISTLE + +BY ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON + + +"Well," said Janey, as Aunt 'Phrony finished telling of the loss of Mr. +Terrapin's beard, "I saw a terrapin the other day, and it didn't look as +though it ever had had a beard or wattles. I thought it was real ugly." + +"Law, chil'," answered the story-teller, "you kain't tell w'at one'r +dese yer creeturs bin in de times pas' jes' by lookin' at 'em now. W'y, +de day's bin w'en ol' man Tarr'pin wuz plumb harnsum. He done bin trick' +out er mo'n jes' his by'ud an' wattles, I kin tell you." + +"Oh, please _do_ tell us!" cried Janey, and little Kit came and leaned +on her knees and looked up into her face and echoed, "'Es, please to +tell us." + +Thus besieged, Aunt 'Phrony consented to tell how the Terrapin lost his +plumage and his whistle. + +"I done tol' you," said she. "Tarr'pin wuz onct a harnsum man, an' dat +de sho'-'nuff trufe, fer he had nice, sof' fedders all over his body an' +a fine, big, spreadin' tail, an' his eyes wuz mighty bright an' his +voice wuz de cle'res' whustle you uver yearn. He wuz a gre't man in dem +days, I tell you _dat_, an' his house wuz chock full er all sorts er +fine fixin's. He had sof' furs ter set on an' long strings er shells fer +money, an clo'es all imbroider' wid dyed pokkypine quills, an' he had +spears an' bows an' arrers an' deer-hawns, an' I dunno w'at all sidesen +dat. + +"In dem days de Quail wuz a homely, no-kyount creetur, wid sca'cely any +fedders, an' a shawt, stumpy tail, an' no voice wuf speakin' uv. He wuz +po', too, an' nob'dy tuck much notuss uv him, jes' call him 'dat 'ar ol' +Bob White,' an' he go wannerin' up an' down de kyountry all by his +lonesome. + +"One day he come 'long pas' Mistah Tarr'pin's house, an' he peek in thu +de do', he did, an' w'en he see all de fine doin's, seem lak he kain't +tek his eye 'way f'um de crack. Den he seed Tarr'pin comin' down de road +home, an' he 'low ter hisse'f, he did, dat dish yer de harnsumes' man +w'at he uver seed, an' he be puffickly sassified ef he cu'd look jes' +lak dat. He git mo' an' mo' enviable uv 'im an' tuck ter hangin' 'roun' +de naberhood, peekin' an' peerin' in at Tarr'pin w'enuver he git de +chanct. Las' he say ter hisse'f dat he jes' natchully 'bleeged ter have +dem fedders an' tail an' whustle, but he ain' knowin' jes' how ter git +'em, so he g'long off ter ax de he'p uv a wise ol' Wolf whar live 'way, +'way up on de mountain an' whar wuz one'r dem cunjerers I done tol' you +'bout. Ez he went 'long he wuz fixin' up a tale ter tell Wolf, an' w'en +he git ter de kyave whar de cunjerer live he knock an' Wolf 'spon', +'Come in!' in sech a deep, growly voice dat li'l Quail felt kind er +skeery, an' he feel mo' skeery yit w'en he go hoppin' in an' see Wolf +settin' dar wid bones strowed all roun' him, an' showin' dem long, white +toofs er his ev'y time he open his mouf. But he perch hisse'f up in +front er Wolf, an' he say in a voice dat wuz right trim'ly, 'Howdy, +Uncle Wolf, howdy! I done comed all de way up yer ter ax yo' he'p, 'kase +I knows dar ain' nair' nu'rr man on dis mountain whar knows half ez much +ez w'at you does. Please, suh, tell me w'at ter do.' + +"'Bob White, you is a li'l ol' fool,' sez Wolf, sezee, 'how kin I tell +you w'at ter do w'en you ain' tol' me w'at 'tis you wants?' + +"Den Quail he git li'l mo' pearter, an' he try ter mek Wolf feel +please', so he say, 'Laws-a-mussy! Uncle Wolf, I done fergit dat, but I +reckon I do so 'kase you is dat smart I thought you mought know widout +me tellin'.' + +"'Drap dat foolishness,' sez Wolf, sezee, 'an' lemme know w'at you comed +atter.' But all de same he wan't too smart ner too ol' ter feel please' +wid de flatt'ry; show me de man whar is; lots uv 'em gits ketched by +dat, nuttin' mo' ner less," and here Aunt 'Phrony cast a scornful glance +at Nancy, who answered it by a toss of the head. + +"Well, den," she resumed, "Quail start inter de meanness he bin hatchin' +up, an' he say, sezee, 'Uncle Wolf, deys a man down dar below whar +gittin' ter be dangersome. He's rich an' goodlookin', an' a gre't chieft +an' a sho'-'nuff fighter, an' he kin do 'bout w'at he please wid tu'rr +creeturs. A man lak dat boun' ter wu'k mischief. Now, suh, ef you sesso, +'pears ter me hit be mighty good notion ter tek 'way his good looks an' +dat pleasin' voice whar he uses ter 'suade de people wid, an' gin 'em +ter some er de quiet an' peace'ble folks whar ain' all de time stickin' +derse'fs ter de front an' tryin' ter lead de people. Now yer I is, you +bin knowin' me dis good w'ile, an' you knows my numbility an' +submissity, an' ef you mek me de one ter do de deed an' den give me de +fixin's fer my trouble, I gwine feel dat I kain't ve'y well refuge 'em.' +Right dar he putt his haid on one side an' look up at Wolf mighty meek +an' innercent. + +"Wolf he say he gwine think 'bout hit, an' he tell Quail ter come back +in seven days an' git de arnser. So Quail he go hippitty-hoppin' down de +mountains, thinkin' he bin mighty smart, an' wunnerin' ef he kin stan' +hit ter wait seven mo' days befo' he rob po' ol' Tarr'pin. + +"Wolf he went off higher yit, ter de top er de mountain fer ter ax de +'pinion er seven urr wolfs mo' older an' wiser dan w'at he wuz. Dey +talked an' dey 'sputed toge'rr fer seven days an' nights. Den Wolf came +back an' Quail made has'e up ter see him ag'in. He say Quail mus' go ter +Tarr'pin's house at midnight an' do jes' lak he tell 'im to, er hit be +wusser fer him, stidder better. Quail lissen an' say he gwine do jes' +lak he tell 'im, an' wid dat he g'long off. Jes' at de stroke er +midnight, w'en de bats wuz a-flyin' an' de squinch-owls hootin' an' de +jacky-my-lanturns trabellin' up an' down, he knock on Mistah Tarr'pin's +do' an' gin out dat he wuz a trabeller whar comed a fur ways an' wuz +pow'ful tired an' hongry. + +"Tarr'pin wuz a kin' man, so he 'vited him in an' gin him sump'n ter eat +an' drink an' made him set down on de sof' furs, 'kase he felt saw'y fer +any pusson so po' an' ugly ez w'at Quail wuz. Den he say, 'You mus' be +tired atter yo' journeyin', lemme rub you a w'iles.' He rub de ugly, +rough creetur fer so long time, an' den Quail sez, sezee, 'You sut'n'y +is kin', but I ain' wanter tire you out. I is res'ed now, so please, +suh, ter lemme rub _you_ a li'l.' He rub an' he rub Tarr'pin wid one +han', an' all de time he wuz rubbin' hisse'f wid de urr. Dat-a-way he +rub all de fedders offen Tarr'pin onter his own se'f. Den he rub down +Tarr'pin's tail 'twel 'twan't nuttin' but a li'l roun', sharp-p'inted +stump, an' at de same time he wuz rubbin' his own tail wid tu'rr han' +an' puttin' Tarr'pin's fine, spreadin' tail onter his own li'l stump. +Hit wuz plumb dark, so't Mistah Tarr'pin ain' see w'at bin done, an' +sidesen dat he wuz pow'ful sleepy fum de rubbin'. Den Quail say he +'bleeged ter lay down 'kase he mus' git him a early start in de mawnin'. + +"Befo' sun-up he wuz stirrin' an' he say he mus' be gittin' 'long. +Tarr'pin go ter de do' wid him an' den Quail say, sezee, 'Mistah +Tarr'pin, I year you has a monst'ous fine whustle, I lak mighty well ter +year hit befo' I go.' + +"'W'y sut'n'y,' sez de Tarr'pin, sezee, an' wid dat he whustle long an' +loud. Quail lissen at him wid all his years, an' den he say: 'Well, dog +my cats, ef I ain' beat! Yo' voice is de prezack match er mine. + +"'You don't sesso! lemme year you whustle,' sez Tarr'pin, sezee. + +"'Dat I will,' sez Quail, 'but lemme go off li'l ways an' show you how +fer I kin mek myse'f yearn,' sezee. He sesso 'kase he'z gittin' mighty +'feerd dat Tarr'pin gwine fin' out his fedders wuz gone. So he go 'way +off inter de bushes an' whustle, an' sho' nuff, 'twuz jes' lak Mistah +Tarr'pin's voice. Den Tarr'pin try ter whustle back, but lo, beholst +you! his voice clean gone, nuttin' lef' but a li'l hiss, an' hit done +stay dat-a-way clean ontwel dis day. 'Twuz gittin' daylight, an' he look +down uv a suddint an' dar he wuz! wid nair' a smidgin' uv a fedder on +his back. He feel so bad he go inter de house an' cry ontwel his eyes +wuz so raid dat dey stayed dat-a-way uver sence. + +"Den Mis' Tarr'pin she say, 'Is you a chieft, er is you a ol' ooman? +Whyn't you go atter dat man an' gin him a lambastin' an' git back w'at +b'long to you?' He feel kind er 'shame', so he pull hisse'f toge'rr an' +go out ter see w'at he kin do. 'Fo' long he fin' out dat de cunjerers +bin at wu'k, so he know he gotter have he'p, an' he go an' git all tu'rr +tarr'pins ter he'p him. Dey went ter de ol' wolfs, de cunjerers, an' dey +ses: 'We is a slow people an' you is a swif people, but nemmine dat, we +dyar's you-all to a race, an' ef you-all wins, den you kin kill we-all; +an' ef we-all wins, den we gwine exescoot you. An' ef you ain't dast ter +tek up dis dyar', den ev'yb'dy gwine know you is cowerds.' + +"Co'se de wolfs tucken de dyar' up, an' hit wuz 'greed de race wuz ter +be over seben mountain ridges, an' dat hit wuz ter be run 'twix' one +wolf an' one tarr'pin, de res' ter look on. + +"Wen de day come, ol' Tarr'pin he tuck an' fix up dis trick; he git six +urr tarr'pins whar look jes' lak him, an' he hide one away in de bresh +on top uv each er de six mountains, an' he hide hisse'f away on top er +de sebent'. Jes' befo' Wolf git ter de top er de fus' mountain, de +tarr'pin whar wuz hidin' dar crawl outen de bresh an' git ter de top +fus' an' gin a whoop, an' went over a li'l ways an' hid in de bresh +ag'in. Wolf think dat mighty cur'ous, but he keep on, an' 'twuz jesso at +ev'y one, an' at de las' ridge co'se Tarr'pin jes' walk hisse'f outen de +bresh an' gin a gre't whoop ter let ev'yb'dy know he done won de race. + +"Den de tarr'pins mek up der min's ter kill de wolfs by fire, so dey pen +'em all in a big kyave on de mountain an' dey bring bresh an' wood an' +pile in front uv hit, a pile mos' ez high ez de mountain, an' den dey +set fire to hit, an' de wolfs howl an' de fire hit spit an' sputter an' +hiss an' crack an' roar, an' all de creeturs on de mountain set up a big +cry an' run dis-a-way an' dat ter git outen de fire; dey wuz plumb +'stracted, an' hit soun' lak all de wil' beas'es in creation wuz turnt +aloose an' tryin' w'ich kin yell de loudes'. But de tarr'pins jes' drord +inter der shells an' sot dar safe an' soun', an' watched de fire burn +an' de smoke an' de flame rollin' inter de kyave. + +"De wolfs dey howled an' dey howled _an'_ dey howled, an' de li'l ones +dey cried an' dey cried _an'_ dey cried, an' las' de ol' ones felt so +bad 'bout de chillen dat dey 'gun ter kill 'em off so's't dey ain' +suffer no mo'. Wen de tarr'pins see dat, dey wuz saw'y, an' dey mek up +der min's ter let de res' off, so dey turnt 'em aloose f'um de kyave. +But lots uv 'em had died in dar, an' dat huccome dar ain' so many wolfs +now ez dey useter be. Some wuz nearer ter de fire dan tu'rrs an' got +swinged, an' some got smoked black, an' dat w'y, ontwel dis day, some +wolfs is black an' some gray an' some white, an' some has longer, +bushier tails dan tu'rrs. Dey got so hoarse wid all dat cryin' dat der +voices bin nuttin' but a howl uver sence. + +"Quail he year w'at gwine on, an' he tucken hisse'f outen dat kyountry +fas' ez his laigs cu'd kyar' him, so Tarr'pin nuver got back de fedders +ner de whustle, an' ef you goes out inter de fiel' mos' any day you kin +see Quail gwine roun' in de stolen fedders an' year him whustle: + + _'Bob White, do right! do right! + Do right! do right, Bob White!'_ + +jes' ez sassy ez ef _he_ bin doin' right all his days, an' ez ef he bin +raised wid dat voice stidder stealin' hit way f'um ol' man Tarr'pin." + + + + +BY BAY AND SEA + +BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS + + + The little rills of poesie + That flow from Helicon + Sometimes escape into the sea + And rest there all unknown. + + While others, finding surer guides, + Fall into happier ways, + And go to swell the rising tides + That make the Poet's bays. + + + + +BILL NATIONS + +BY BILL ARP + + +You never knowd Bill, I rekun. Hes gone to Arkensaw, and I don't +know whether hes ded or alive. He was a good feller, Bill was, as +most all whisky drinkers are. Me and him both used to love it +powerful--especially Bill. We soaked it when we could git it, and when +we coudent we hankered after it amazingly. I must tell you a little +antidote on Bill, tho I dident start to tell you about that. + +We started on a little jurney one day in June, and took along a bottle +of "old rye," and there was so many springs and wells on the road that +it was mighty nigh gone before dinner. We took our snack, and Bill +drained the last drop, for he said we would soon git to Joe Paxton's, +and that Joe always kept some. + +Shore enuff Joe dident have a drop, and we concluded, as we was mighty +dry, to go on to Jim Alford's, and stay all night. We knew that Jim had +it, for he always had it. So we whipped up, and the old Bay had to +travel, for I tell you when a man wants whiskey everything has to bend +to the gittin' of it. Shore enuff Jim had some. He was mity glad to see +us, and he knowd what we wanted, for he knowd how it was hisself. So he +brought out an old-fashend glass decanter, and a shugar bowl, and a +tumbler, and a spoon, and says he, "Now, boys, jest wait a minit till +you git rested sorter, for it ain't good to take whiskey on a hot +stomack. I've jest been readin' a piece in Grady's newspaper about a +frog--the darndest frog that perhaps ever come from a tadpole. It was +found up in Kanetucky, and is as big as a peck measure. Bill, do you +take this paper and read it aloud to us. I'm a poor hand to read, and I +want to hear it. I'll be hanged if it ain't the darndest frog I ever +hearn of." He laid the paper on my knees, and I begun to read, thinkin' +it was a little short anticdote, but as I turned the paper over I found +it was mighty nigh a column. I took a side glance at Bill, and I saw the +little dry twitches a jumpin' about on his countenance. He was mighty +nigh dead for a drink. I warent so bad off myself, and I was about half +mad with him for drainin' the bottle before dinner; so I just read along +slow, and stopped two or three times to clear my throat just to consume +time. Pretty soon Bill got up and commenced walkin' about, and he would +look at the dekanter like he would give his daylights to choke the corn +juice out of it. I read along slowly. Old Alford was a listnin' and +chawin' his tobakker and spittin' out of the door. Bill come up to me, +his face red and twitchin', and leanin' over my shoulder he seed the +length of the story, and I will never forgit his pitiful tone as he +whispered, "Skip some, Bill, for heaven's sake skip some." + +My heart relented, and I did skip some, and hurried through, and we all +jined in a drink; but I'll never forgit how Bill looked when he +whispered to me to "skip some, Bill, skip some." I've got over the like +of that, boys, and I hope Bill has, too, but I don't know. I wish in my +soul that everybody had quit it, for you may talk about slavery, and +penitentiary, and chain-gangs, and the Yankees, and General Grant, and a +devil of a wife, but whiskey is the worst master that ever a man had +over him. I know how it is myself. + +But there is one good thing about drinkin'. I almost wish every man was +a reformed drunkard. No man who hasn't drank liker knows what a luxury +cold water is. I have got up in the night in cold wether after I had +been spreein' around, and gone to the well burnin' up with thirst, +feeling like the gallows, and the grave, and the infernal regions was +too good for me, and when I took up the bucket in my hands, and with my +elbows a tremblin' like I had the shakin' ager, put the water to my +lips; it was the most delicious, satisfyin', luxurius draft that ever +went down my throat. I have stood there and drank and drank until I +could drink no more, and gone back to bed thankin' God for the pure, +innocent, and coolin' beverig, and cursin' myself from my inmost soul +for ever touchin' the accursed whisky. In my torture of mind and body I +have made vows and promises, and broken 'em within a day. But if you +want to know the luxury of cold water, get drunk, and keep at it until +you get on fire, and then try a bucket full with your shirt on at the +well in the middle of the night. You won't want a gourd full--you'll +feel like the bucket ain't big enuf, and when you begin to drink an +earthquake couldn't stop you. My fathers, how good it was! I know a +hundred men who will swear to the truth of what I say: but you see its a +thing they don't like to talk about. It's too humiliatin'. + +But I dident start to talk about drinkin'. In fact, I've forgot what I +did start to tell you. My mind is sorter addled now a days, anyhow, and +I hav to jes let my tawkin' tumble out permiskuous. I'll take another +whet at it afore long, and fill up the gaps. + + + + +THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET + +BY EDWARD EVERETT HALE + +(This paper was first published in the _Galaxy_, in 1866.) + + +I see that an old chum of mine is publishing bits of confidential +Confederate History in Harper's Magazine. It would seem to be time, +then, for the pivots to be disclosed on which some of the wheelwork of +the last six years has been moving. The science of history, as I +understand it, depends on the timely disclosure of such pivots, which +are apt to be kept out of view while things are moving. + +I was in the Civil Service at Richmond. Why I was there, or what I did, +is nobody's affair. And I do not in this paper propose to tell how it +happened that I was in New York in October, 1864, on confidential +business. Enough that I was there, and that it was honest business. That +business done, as far as it could be with the resources intrusted to me, +I prepared to return home. And thereby hangs this tale, and, as it +proved, the fate of the Confederacy. + +For, of course, I wanted to take presents home to my family. Very little +question was there what these presents should be,--for I had no boys nor +brothers. The women of the Confederacy had one want, which overtopped +all others. They could make coffee out of beans; pins they had from +Columbus; straw hats they braided quite well with their own fair hands; +snuff we could get better than you could in "the old concern." But we +had no hoop-skirts,--skeletons, we used to call them. No ingenuity had +made them. No bounties had forced them. The Bat, the Greyhound, the +Deer, the Flora, the J.C. Cobb, the Varuna, and the Fore-and-Aft all +took in cargoes of them for us in England. But the Bat and the Deer and +the Flora were seized by the blockaders, the J.C. Cobb sunk at sea, the +Fore-and-Aft and the Greyhound were set fire to by their own crews, and +the Varuna (our Varuna) was never heard of. Then the State of Arkansas +offered sixteen townships of swamp land to the first manufacturer who +would exhibit five gross of a home-manufactured article. But no one ever +competed. The first attempts, indeed, were put to an end, when Schofield +crossed the Blue Lick, and destroyed the dams on Yellow Branch. The +consequence was, that people's crinolines collapsed faster than the +Confederacy did, of which that brute of a Grierson said there was never +anything of it but the outside. + +Of course, then, I put in the bottom of my new large trunk in New York, +not a "duplex elliptic," for none were then made, but a "Belmonte," of +thirty springs, for my wife. I bought, for her more common wear, a good +"Belle-Fontaine." For Sarah and Susy each I got two "Dumb-Belles." For +Aunt Eunice and Aunt Clara, maiden sisters of my wife, who lived with us +after Winchester fell the fourth time, I got the "Scotch Harebell," two +of each. For my own mother I got one "Belle of the Prairies" and one +"Invisible Combination Gossamer." I did not forget good old Mamma Chloe +and Mamma Jane. For them I got substantial cages, without names. With +these, tied in the shapes of figure eights in the bottom of my trunk, as +I said, I put in an assorted cargo of dry-goods above, and, favored by a +pass, and Major Mulford's courtesy on the flag-of-truce boat, I arrived +safely at Richmond before the autumn closed. + +I was received at home with rapture. But when, the next morning, I +opened my stores, this became rapture doubly enraptured. Words can not +tell the silent delight with which old and young, black and white, +surveyed these fairy-like structures, yet unbroken and unmended. + +Perennial summer reigned that autumn day in that reunited family. It +reigned the next day, and the next. It would have reigned till now if +the Belmontes and the other things would last as long as the +advertisements declare; and, what is more, the Confederacy would have +reigned till now, President Davis and General Lee! but for that great +misery, which all families understand, which culminated in our great +misfortune. + +I was up in the cedar closet one day, looking for an old parade cap of +mine, which, I thought, though it was my third best, might look better +than my second best, which I had worn ever since my best was lost at the +Seven Pines. I say I was standing on the lower shelf of the cedar +closet, when, as I stepped along in the darkness, my right foot caught +in a bit of wire, my left did not give way in time, and I fell, with a +small wooden hat-box in my hand, full on the floor. The corner of the +hat-box struck me just below the second frontal sinus, and I fainted +away. + +When I came to myself I was in the blue chamber; I had vinegar on a +brown paper on my forehead; the room was dark, and I found mother +sitting by me, glad enough indeed to hear my voice, and to know that I +knew her. It was some time before I fully understood what had happened. +Then she brought me a cup of tea, and I, quite refreshed, said I must go +to the office. + +"Office, my child!" said she. "Your leg is broken above the ankle; you +will not move these six weeks. Where do you suppose you are?" + +Till then I had no notion that it was five minutes since I went into +the closet. When she told me the time, five in the afternoon, I groaned +in the lowest depths. For, in my breast pocket in that innocent coat, +which I could now see lying on the window-seat, were the duplicate +despatches to Mr. Mason, for which, late the night before, I had got the +Secretary's signature. They were to go at ten that morning to +Wilmington, by the Navy Department's special messenger. I had taken them +to insure care and certainty. I had worked on them till midnight, and +they had not been signed till near one o'clock. Heavens and earth, and +here it was five o'clock! The man must be half-way to Wilmington by this +time. I sent the doctor for Lafarge, my clerk. Lafarge did his prettiest +in rushing to the telegraph. But no! A freshet on the Chowan River, or a +raid by Foster, or something, or nothing, had smashed the telegraph wire +for that night. And before that despatch ever reached Wilmington the +navy agent was in the offing in the Sea Maid. + +"But perhaps the duplicate got through?" No, breathless reader, the +duplicate did not get through. The duplicate was taken by Faucon, in the +Ino. I saw it last week in Dr. Lieber's hands, in Washington. Well, all +I know is, that if the duplicate had got through, the Confederate +government would have had in March a chance at eighty-three thousand two +hundred and eleven muskets, which, as it was, never left Belgium. So +much for my treading into that blessed piece of wire on the shelf of the +cedar closet, up stairs. + +"What was the bit of wire?" + +Well, it was not telegraph wire. If it had been, it would have broken +when it was not wanted to. Don't you know what it was? Go up in your own +cedar closet, and step about in the dark, and see what brings up round +your ankles. Julia, poor child, cried her eyes out about it. When I got +well enough to sit up, and as soon as I could talk and plan with her, +she brought down seven of these old things, antiquated Belmontes and +Simplex Elliptics, and horrors without a name, and she made a pile of +them in the bedroom, and asked me in the most penitent way what she +should do with them. + +"You can't burn them," said she; "fire won't touch them. If you bury +them in the garden, they come up at the second raking. If you give them +to the servants, they say, 'Thank-e, missus,' and throw them in the back +passage. If you give them to the poor, they throw them into the street +in front, and do not say, 'Thank-e.' Sarah sent seventeen over to the +sword factory, and the foreman swore at the boy, and told him he would +flog him within an inch of his life if he brought any more of his sauce +there; and so--and so," sobbed the poor child, "I just rolled up these +wretched things, and laid them in the cedar closet, hoping, you know, +that some day the government would want something, and would advertise +for them. You know what a good thing I made out of the bottle corks." + +In fact, she had sold our bottle corks for four thousand two hundred and +sixteen dollars of the first issue. We afterward bought two umbrellas +and a cork-screw with the money. + +Well, I did not scold Julia. It was certainly no fault of hers that I +was walking on the lower shelf of her cedar closet. I told her to make a +parcel of the things, and the first time we went to drive I hove the +whole shapeless heap into the river, without saying mass for them. + +But let no man think, or no woman, that this was the end of troubles. As +I look back on that winter, and on the spring of 1865 (I do not mean the +steel spring), it seems to me only the beginning. I got out on crutches +at last; I had the office transferred to my house, so that Lafarge and +Hepburn could work there nights, and communicate with me when I could +not go out; but mornings I hobbled up to the Department, and sat with +the Chief, and took his orders. Ah me! shall I soon forget that damp +winter morning, when we all had such hope at the office. One or two of +the army fellows looked in at the window as they ran by, and we knew +that they felt well; and though I would not ask Old Wick, as we had +nicknamed the Chief, what was in the wind, I knew the time had come, and +that the lion meant to break the net this time. I made an excuse to go +home earlier than usual; rode down to the house in the Major's +ambulance, I remember; and hopped in, to surprise Julia with the good +news, only to find that the whole house was in that quiet uproar which +shows that something bad has happened of a sudden. + +"What is it, Chloe?" said I, as the old wench rushed by me with a bucket +of water. + +"Poor Mr. George, I 'fraid he's dead, sah!" + +And there he really was,--dear handsome, bright George Schaff,--the +delight of all the nicest girls of Richmond; he lay there on Aunt +Eunice's bed on the ground floor, where they had brought him in. He was +not dead,--and he did not die. He is making cotton in Texas now. But he +looked mighty near it then. "The deep cut in his head" was the worst I +then had ever seen, and the blow confused everything. When McGregor got +round, he said it was not hopeless; but we were all turned out of the +room, and with one thing and another he got the boy out of the swoon, +and somehow it proved his head was not broken. + +No, but poor George swears to this day it were better it had been, if it +could only have been broken the right way and on the right field. For +that evening we heard that everything had gone wrong in the surprise. +There we had been waiting for one of those early fogs, and at last the +fog had come. And Jubal Early had, that morning, pushed out every man he +had, that could stand; and they lay hid for three mortal hours, within I +don't know how near the picket line at Fort Powhatan, only waiting for +the shot which John Streight's party were to fire at Wilson's Wharf, as +soon as somebody on our left centre advanced in force on the enemy's +line above Turkey Island stretching across to Nansemond. I am not in the +War Department, and I forget whether he was to advance _en barbette_ or +by _échelon_ of infantry. But he was to advance somehow, and he knew +how; and when he advanced, you see, that other man lower down was to +rush in, and as soon as Early heard him he was to surprise Powhatan, you +see; and then, if you have understood me, Grant and Butler and the whole +rig of them would have been cut off from their supplies, would have had +to fight a battle for which they were not prepared, with their right +made into a new left, and their old left unexpectedly advanced at an +oblique angle from their centre, and would not that have been the end of +them? + +Well, that never happened. And the reason it never happened was, that +poor George Schaff, with the last fatal order for this man whose name I +forget (the same who was afterward killed the day before High Bridge), +undertook to save time by cutting across behind my house, from Franklin +to Green Streets. You know how much time he saved,--they waited all day +for that order. George told me afterward that the last thing he +remembered was kissing his hand to Julia, who sat at her bedroom window. +He said he thought she might be the last woman he ever saw this side of +heaven. Just after that, it must have been, his horse--that white +Messenger colt old Williams bred--went over like a log, and poor George +was pitched fifteen feet head-foremost against a stake there was in that +lot. Julia saw the whole. She rushed out with all the women, and had +just brought him in when I got home. And that was the reason that the +great promised combination of December, 1864, never came off at all. + +I walked out in the lot, after McGregor turned me out of the chamber, to +see what they had done with the horse. There he lay, as dead as old +Messenger himself. His neck was broken. And do you think I looked to see +what had tripped him? I supposed it was one of the boys' bandy holes. It +was no such thing. The poor wretch had tangled his hind legs in one of +those infernal hoop-wires that Chloe had thrown out in the piece when I +gave her her new ones. Though I did not know it then, those fatal scraps +of rusty steel had broken the neck that day of Robert Lee's army. + +That time I made a row about it. I felt too badly to go into a passion. +But before the women went to bed,--they were all in the sitting-room +together,--I talked to them like a father. I did not swear. I had got +over that for a while, in that six weeks on my back. But I did say the +old wires were infernal things, and that the house and premises must be +made rid of them. The aunts laughed,--though I was so serious,--and +tipped a wink to the girls. The girls wanted to laugh, but were afraid +to. And then it came out that the aunts had sold their old hoops, tied +as tight as they could tie them, in a great mass of rags. They had made +a fortune by the sale,--I am sorry to say it was in other rags, but the +rags they got were new instead of old,--it was a real Aladdin bargain. +The new rags had blue backs, and were numbered, some as high as fifty +dollars. The rag-man had been in a hurry, and had not known what made +the things so heavy. I frowned at the swindle, but they said all was +fair with a peddler,--and I own I was glad the things were well out of +Richmond. But when I said I thought it was a mean trick, Lizzie and +Sarah looked demure, and asked what in the world I would have them do +with the old things. Did I expect them to walk down to the bridge +themselves with great parcels to throw into the river, as I had done by +Julia's? Of course it ended, as such things always do, by my taking the +work on my own shoulders. I told them to tie up all they had in as small +a parcel as they could, and bring them to me. + +Accordingly, the next day, I found a handsome brown paper parcel, not so +very large, considering, and strangely square, considering, which the +minxes had put together and left on my office table. They had a great +frolic over it. They had not spared red tape nor red wax. Very official +it looked, indeed, and on the left-hand corner, in Sarah's boldest and +most contorted hand, was written, "Secret service." We had a great laugh +over their success. And, indeed, I should have taken it with me the next +time I went down to the Tredegar, but that I happened to dine one +evening with young Norton of our gallant little navy, and a very curious +thing he told us. + +We were talking about the disappointment of the combined land attack. I +did not tell what upset poor Schaff's horse; indeed, I do not think +those navy men knew the details of the disappointment. O'Brien had told +me, in confidence, what I have written down probably for the first time +now. But we were speaking, in a general way, of the disappointment. +Norton finished his cigar rather thoughtfully, and then said: "Well, +fellows, it is not worth while to put in the newspapers, but what do +you suppose upset our grand naval attack, the day the Yankee gunboats +skittled down the river so handsomely?" + +"Why," said Allen, who is Norton's best-beloved friend, "they say that +you ran away from them as fast as they did from you." + +"Do they?" said Norton, grimly. "If you say that, I'll break your head +for you. Seriously, men," continued he, "that was a most extraordinary +thing. You know I was on the Ram. But why she stopped when she stopped I +knew as little as this wineglass does; and Callender himself knew no +more than I. We had not been hit. We were all right as a trivet for all +we knew, when, skree! she began blowing off steam, and we stopped dead, +and began to drift down under those batteries. Callender had to +telegraph to the little Mosquito, or whatever Walter called his boat, +and the spunky little thing ran down and got us out of the scrape. +Walter did it right well; if he had had a monitor under him he could not +have done better. Of course we all rushed to the engine-room. What in +thunder were they at there? All they knew was they could get no water +into her boiler. + +"Now, fellows, this is the end of the story. As soon as the boilers +cooled off they worked all right on those supply pumps. May I be hanged +if they had not sucked in, somehow, a long string of yarn, and cloth, +and, if you will believe me, a wire of some woman's crinoline. And that +French folly of a sham Empress cut short that day the victory of the +Confederate navy, and old Davis himself can't tell when we shall have +such a chance again!" + +Some of the men thought Norton lied. But I never was with him when he +did not tell the truth. I did not mention, however, what I had thrown +into the water the last time I had gone over to Manchester. And I +changed my mind about Sarah's "secret-service" parcel. It remained on +my table. + +That was the last dinner our old club had at the Spotswood, I believe. +The spring came on, and the plot thickened. We did our work in the +office as well as we could; I can speak for mine, and if other +people--but no matter for that! The third of April came, and the fire, +and the right wing of Grant's army. I remember I was glad then that I +had moved the office down to the house, for we were out of the way +there. Everybody had run away from the Department; and so, when the +powers that be took possession, my little sub-bureau was unmolested for +some days. I improved those days as well as I could,--burning carefully +what was to be burned, and hiding carefully what was to be hidden. One +thing that happened then belongs to this story. As I was at work on the +private bureau,--it was really a bureau, as it happened, one I had made +Aunt Eunice give up when I broke my leg,--I came, to my horror, on a +neat parcel of coast-survey maps of Georgia, Alabama, and Florida. They +were not the same Maury stole when he left the National Observatory, but +they were like them. Now I was perfectly sure that on that fatal Sunday +of the flight I had sent Lafarge for these, that the President might use +them, if necessary, in his escape. When I found them, I hopped out and +called for Julia, and asked her if she did not remember his coming for +them. "Certainly," she said, "it was the first I knew of the danger. +Lafarge came, asked for the key of the office, told me all was up, +walked in, and in a moment was gone." + +And here, on the file of April 3d, was Fafarge's line to me: + +"I got the secret-service parcel myself, and have put it in the +President's own hands. I marked it, 'Gulf coast,' as you bade me." + +What could Lafarge have given to the President? Not the soundings of +Hatteras Bar. Not the working-drawings of the first monitor. I had all +these under my hand. Could it be,--"Julia, what did we do with that +stuff of Sarah's that she marked _secret service_?" + +As I live, we had sent the girls' old hoops to the President in his +flight. + +And when the next day we read how he used them, and how Pritchard +arrested him, we thought if he had only had the right parcel he would +have found the way to Florida. + +That is really the end of this memoir. But I should not have written it, +but for something that happened just now on the piazza. You must know, +some of us wrecks are up here at the Berkeley baths. My uncle has a +place near here. Here came to-day John Sisson, whom I have not seen +since Memminger ran and took the clerks with him. Here we had before, +both the Richards brothers, the great paper men, you know, who started +the Edgerly Works in Prince George's County, just after the war began. +After dinner, Sisson and they met on the piazza. Queerly enough, they +had never seen each other before, though they had used reams of +Richards' paper in correspondence with each other, and the treasury had +used tons of it in the printing of bonds and bank-bills. Of course we +all fell to talking of old times,--old they seem now, though it is not a +year ago. "Richards," said Sisson at last, "what became of that last +order of ours for water-lined, pure linen government calendered paper of +_sureté_? We never got it, and I never knew why." + +"Did you think Kilpatrick got it?" said Richards, rather gruffly. + +"None of your chaff, Richards. Just tell where the paper went, for in +the loss of that lot of paper, as it proved, the bottom dropped out of +the Treasury tub. On that paper was to have been printed our new issue +of ten per cent., convertible, you know, and secured on that up-country +cotton, which Kirby Smith had above the Big Raft. I had the printers +ready for near a month waiting for that paper. The plates were really +very handsome. I'll show you a proof when we go up stairs. Wholly new +they were, made by some Frenchman we got, who had worked for the Bank of +France. I was so anxious to have the thing well done, that I waited +three weeks for that paper, and, by Jove, I waited just too long. We +never got one of the bonds off, and that was why we had no money in +March." + +Richards threw his cigar away. I will not say he swore between his +teeth, but he twirled his chair round, brought it down on all fours, +both his elbows on his knees and his chin in both hands. + +"Mr. Sisson," said he, "if the Confederacy had lived, I would have died +before I ever told what became of that order of yours. But now I have no +secrets, I believe, and I care for nothing. I do not know now how it +happened. We knew it was an extra nice job. And we had it on an elegant +little new French Fourdrinier, which cost us more than we shall ever +pay. The pretty thing ran like oil the day before. That day, I thought +all the devils were in it. The more power we put on the more the rollers +screamed; and the less we put on, the more sulkily the jade stopped. I +tried it myself every way; back current, I tried; forward current; high +feed; low feed; I tried it on old stock, I tried it on new; and, Mr. +Sisson, I would have made better paper in a coffee-mill! We drained off +every drop of water. We washed the tubs free from size. Then my +brother, there, worked all night with the machinists, taking down the +frame and the rollers. You would not believe it, sir, but that little +bit of wire,"--and he took out of his pocket a piece of this hateful +steel, which poor I knew so well by this time,--"that little bit of wire +had passed in from some hoop-skirt, passed the pickers, passed the +screens, through all the troughs, up and down through what we call the +lacerators, and had got itself wrought in, where, if you know a +Fourdrinier machine, you may have noticed a brass ring riveted to the +cross-bar, and there this cursed little knife--for you see it was a +knife by that time--had been cutting to pieces the endless wire web +every time the machine was started. You lost your bonds, Mr. Sisson, +because some Yankee woman cheated one of my rag-men." + +On that story I came up stairs. Poor Aunt Eunice! She was the reason I +got no salary on the 1st of April. I thought I would warn other women by +writing down the story. + +That fatal present of mine, in those harmless hourglass parcels, was the +ruin of the Confederate navy, army, ordinance, and treasury; and it led +to the capture of the poor President, too. + +But, Heaven be praised, no one shall say that my office did not do its +duty! + + + + +THE LOST INVENTOR[4] + +BY WALLACE IRWIN + + + Patriotic fellow-citizens, and did you ever note + How we honor Mr. Fulton, who devised the choo-choo boat? + How we glorify our Edison, who made the world to go + By the bizzy-whizzy magic of the little dynamo? + Yet no spirit-thrilling tribute has been ever heard or seen + For the fellow who invented our Political Machine. + + Sure a fine, inventive genius, who has labored long and hard, + Till success has crowned his research, should receive a just reward. + The Machine's a great invention, that's continually clear, + Out of nothing but corruption making millions every year-- + Out of muck and filth of cities making dollars neat and clean-- + Where's the fellow who invented the Political Machine? + + Hail the complex mechanism, full of cranks and wires and wheels, + Fed by graft and loot and patronage, as noiselessly it reels. + Press the button, pull the lever, clickety-click, and set the vogue + For the latest thing in statesmen or the newest kind of rogue. + Who's the man behind the throttle? Who's the Engineer unseen? + "Ask me nothin'! Ask me nothin'!" clicks that wizard, the Machine. + +[Footnote 4: From "At the Sign of the Dollar," by Wallace Irwin. +Copyright, 1905, by Fox, Duffield & Co.] + + + + +OMAR IN THE KLONDYKE + +BY HOWARD V. SUTHERLAND + + + "This Omar seems a decent chap," said Flapjack Dick one night, + When he had read my copy through and then blown out the light. + "I ain't much stuck on poetry, because I runs to news, + But I appreciates a man that loves his glass of booze. + + "And Omar here likes a good red wine, although he's pretty mum; + On liquors, which is better yet, like whisky, gin, or rum; + Perhaps his missus won't allow him things like that to touch, + And he doesn't like to own it. Well, I don't blame Omar much. + + "Then I likes a man what's partial to the ladies, young or old, + And Omar seems to seek 'em much as me and you seek gold; + I only hope for his sake that his wife don't learn his game + Or she'll put a chain on Omar, and that would be a shame. + + "His language is some florid, but I guess it is the style + Of them writer chaps that studies and burns the midnight ile; + He tells us he's no chicken; so I guess he knows what's best, + And can hold his own with Shakespeare, Waukeen Miller, and the rest. + + "But I hope he ain't a thinkin' of a trip to this yere camp, + For our dancin' girls is ancient, and our liquor's somewhat damp + By doctorin' with water, and we ain't got wine at all, + Though I had a drop of porter--but that was back last fall. + + "And he mightn't like our manners, and he mightn't like the smell + Which is half the charm of Dawson; and he mightn't live to tell + Of the acres of wild roses that grows on every street; + And he mightn't like the winter, or he mightn't like the heat. + + "So I guess it's best for Omar for to stay right where he is, + And gallivant with Tottie, or with Flossie, or with Liz; + And fill himself with claret, and, although it ain't like beer, + I wish he'd send a bottle--just one bottle--to us here." + + + + +THE HAPPY LAND[5] + +BY FRANK ROE BATCHELDER + + + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where they get their ten per cent., + There is never need to worry + As to how to pay the rent; + There they never dodge the grocer, + And in winter never freeze, + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where the dollars grow on trees. + + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where the cash is ready-made, + No one ever thinks of going + To the almoner for aid, + For the coal-bin's never empty, + And the Gray Wolf dare not lurk + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where the check-books do the work. + + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where the watches all have fobs, + You will see no haggard fathers + Pleading, in despair, for jobs; + You will hear no hungry children + Crying, while their mothers pray, + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where there's dinner every day. + + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + It is easy to forget + All about that far-off country + Where are hunger, cold, and debt; + And the woes of other people + It is easy to dismiss + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where inheritance is bliss. + +[Footnote 5: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +ASSAULT AND BATTERY + +BY JOSEPH G. BALDWIN + + +A trial came off, not precisely in our bailiwick, but in the +neighborhood, of great comic interest. It was really a case of a good +deal of aggravation, and the defendants, fearing the result, employed +four of the ablest lawyers practicing at the M. bar to defend them. The +offense charged was only assault and battery; but the evidence showed a +conspiracy to inflict great violence on the person of the prosecutor, +who had done nothing to provoke it, and that the attempt to effect it +was followed by severe injury to him. The prosecutor was an original. He +had been an old-field school-master, and was as conceited and pedantic a +fellow as could be found in a summer's day, even in that profession. It +was thought the policy of the defense to make as light of the case as +possible, and to cast as much ridicule on the affair as they could. J.E. +and W.M. led the defense, and, although the talents of the former were +rather adapted to grave discussion than pleasantry, he agreed to doff +his heavy armor for the lighter weapons of wit and ridicule. M. was in +his element. He was at all times and on all occasions at home when fun +was to be raised: the difficulty with him was rather to restrain than to +create mirth and laughter. The case was called and put to the jury. The +witness, one Burwell Shines, was called for the prosecution. A broad +grin was upon the faces of the counsel for the defense as he came +forward. It was increased when the clerk said, "_Burrell_ Shines, come +to the book;" and the witness, with deliberate emphasis, remarked, "My +Christian name is not _Burrell_, but _Burwell_, though I am vulgarly +denominated by the former epithet." "Well," said the clerk, "Bur-_well_ +Shines, come to the book, and be sworn." He _was_ sworn, and directed to +take the stand. He was a picture! + +He was dressed with care. His toilet was elaborate and befitting the +magnitude and dignity of the occasion, the part he was to fill, and the +high presence into which he had come. He was evidently favorably +impressed with his own personal pulchritude; yet with an air of modest +deprecation, as if he said by his manner, "After all, what _is_ beauty, +that man should be proud of it; and what are fine clothes, that the +wearers should put themselves above the unfortunate mortals who have +them not?" + +He advanced with deliberate gravity to the stand. There he stood, his +large bell-crowned hat, with nankeen-colored nap an inch long, in his +hand; which hat he carefully handed over the bar to the clerk to hold +until he should get through his testimony. He wore a blue +single-breasted coat with new brass buttons, a vest of bluish calico, +nankeen pants that struggled to make both ends meet, but failed, by a +few inches, in the legs, yet made up for it by fitting a little better +than the skin everywhere else. His head stood upon a shirt collar that +held it up by the ears, and a cravat, something smaller than a +table-cloth, bandaged his throat; his face was narrow, long, and grave, +with an indescribable air of ponderous wisdom, which, as Fox said of +Thurlow, "proved him _necessarily_ a hypocrite; as it was _impossible_ +for _any_ man to be as wise as _he_ looked." Gravity and decorum marked +every lineament of his countenance and every line of his body. All the +wit of Hudibras could not have moved a muscle of his face. His +conscience would have smitten him for a laugh almost as soon as for an +oath. His hair was roached up, and stood as erect and upright as his +body; and his voice was slow, deep, in "linked sweetness long drawn +out," and modulated according to the camp-meeting standard of elocution. +Three such men at a country frolic would have turned an old Virginia +reel into a dead march. He was one of Carlyle's earnest men. Cromwell +would have made him ensign of the Ironsides, and _ex-officio_ chaplain +at first sight. He took out his pocket-handkerchief, slowly unfolded it +from the shape in which it came from the washerwoman's, and awaited the +interrogation. As he waited, he spat on the floor, and nicely wiped it +out with his foot. The solicitor told him to tell about the difficulty +in hand. He gazed around on the court, then on the bar, then on the +jury, then on the crowd, addressing each respectively as he turned: "May +it please your honor, gentlemen of the bar, gentlemen of the jury, +audience: Before proceeding to give my testimonial observations, I must +premise that I am a member of the Methodist Episcopal, otherwise called +Wesleyan, persuasion of Christian individuals. One bright Sabbath +morning in May, the 15th day of the month, the past year, while the +birds were singing their matutinal songs from the trees, I sallied forth +from the dormitory of my seminary to enjoy the reflections so well +suited to that auspicious occasion. I had not proceeded far before my +ears were accosted with certain Bacchanalian sounds of revelry, which +proceeded from one of those haunts of vicious depravity located at the +cross-roads, near the place of my boyhood, and fashionably denominated a +doggery. No sooner had I passed beyond the precincts of this diabolical +rendezvous of rioting debauchees, than I heard behind me the sounds of +approaching footsteps, as if in pursuit. Having heard previously sundry +menaces, which had been made by these preposterous and incarnadine +individuals of hell, now on trial in prospect of condign punishment, +fulminated against the longer continuance of my corporeal salubrity, for +no better reason than that I reprobated their criminal orgies, and not +wishing my reflections to be disturbed, I hurried my steps with a +gradual accelerated motion. Hearing, however, their continued advance, +and the repeated shoutings, articulating the murderous accents, 'Kill +him! Kill Shadbelly, with his praying clothes on!' (which was a profane +designation of myself and my religious profession), and casting my head +over my left shoulder in a manner somehow reluctantly, thus, (throwing +his head to one side), and perceiving their near approximation, I +augmented my speed into what might be denominated a gentle slope, and +subsequently augmented the same into a species of dog-trot. But all +would not do. Gentlemen, the destroyer came. As I reached the fence, and +was about propelling my body over the same, felicitating myself on my +prospect of escape from my remorseless pursuers, they arrived, and James +William Jones, called by nickname, Buck Jones, that red-headed character +now at the bar of this honorable court, seized a fence rail, grasped it +in both hands, and, standing on tip-toe, hurled the same, with mighty +emphasis, against my cerebellum, which blow felled me to the earth. +Straightway, like ignoble curs upon a disabled lion, these bandit +ruffians and incarnadine assassins leaped upon me, some pelting, some +bruising, some gouging,--'everything by turns, and nothing long,' as the +poet hath it; and one of them,--which one unknown to me, having no eyes +behind,--inflicted with his teeth a grievous wound upon my person; +where, I need not specify. At length, when thus prostrate on the ground, +one of those bright ideas, common to minds of men of genius, struck me. +I forthwith sprang to my feet, drew forth my cutto, circulated the same +with much vivacity among their several and respective corporeal systems, +and every time I circulated the same I felt their iron grasp relax. As +cowardly recreants, even to their own guilty friendships, two of these +miscreants, though but slightly perforated by my cutto, fled, leaving +the other two, whom I had disabled by the vigor and energy of my +incisions, prostrate and in my power. These lustily called for quarter, +shouting out 'Enough!' or, in their barbarous dialect, being as corrupt +in language as in morals, 'Nuff!' which quarter I magnanimously extended +them, as unworthy of my farther vengeance, and fit only as subject of +penal infliction at the hands of the offended laws of their country, to +which laws I do now consign them, hoping such mercy for them as their +crimes will permit; which, in my judgment (having read the code) is not +much. This is my statement on oath, fully and truly, nothing extenuating +and naught setting down in malice; and if I have omitted anything, in +form or substance, I stand ready to supply the omission; and if I have +stated anything amiss, I will cheerfully correct the same, limiting the +averment, with appropriate modifications, provisions, and restrictions. +The learned counsel may now proceed more particularly to interrogate me +of and respecting the premises." + +After this oration, Burwell wiped the perspiration from his brow, and +the counsel for the state took him. Few questions were asked him, +however, by that official, he confining himself to a recapitulation in +simple terms, of what the witness had declared, and procuring Burwell's +assent to his translation. Long and searching was the cross-examination +by the defendant's counsel; but it elicited nothing favorable to the +defense, and nothing shaking, but much to confirm, Burwell's statement. + +After some other evidence, the examination closed, and the argument to +the jury commenced. The solicitor very briefly adverted to the leading +facts, deprecated any attempt to turn the case into ridicule, admitted +that the witness was a man of eccentricity and pedantry, but harmless +and inoffensive; a man, evidently, of conscientiousness and +respectability; that he had shown himself to be a peaceable man, but +when occasion demanded, a brave man; that there was a conspiracy to +assassinate him upon no cause except an independence, which was +honorable to him, and an attempt to execute the purpose, in pursuance of +previous threats, and severe injury by several confederates on a single +person, and this on the Sabbath, and when he was seeking to avoid them. + +W.M. rose to reply. All Screamersville turned out to hear him. William +was a great favorite,--the most popular speaker in the country,--had the +versatility of a mocking-bird, an aptitude for burlesque that would have +given him celebrity as a dramatist, and a power of acting that would +have made his fortune on the boards of a theater. A rich treat was +expected, but it didn't come. The witness had taken all the wind out of +William's sails. He had rendered burlesque impossible. The thing as +acted was more ludicrous than it could be as described. The crowd had +laughed themselves hoarse already; and even M.'s comic powers seemed, +and were felt by himself, to be humble imitations of a greater master. +For once in his life M. dragged his subject heavily along. The matter +began to grow serious,--fun failed to come when M. called it up. M. +closed between a lame argument, a timid deprecation, and some only +tolerable humor. He was followed by E., in a discursive, argumentative, +sarcastic, drag-net sort of speech, which did all that could be done +for the defense. The solicitor briefly closed, seriously and confidently +confining himself to a repetition of the matters first insisted, and +answering some of the points of the counsel. + +It was an ominous fact that a juror, before the jury retired, under +leave of the court, recalled a witness for the purpose of putting a +question to him: the question was how much the defendants were worth; +the answer was, about two thousand dollars. + +The jury shortly after returned into the court with a verdict which +"sized their pile." + + + + +THE PRAYER OF CYRUS BROWN + +BY SAM WALTER FOSS + + + "The proper way for a man to pray," + Said Deacon Lemuel Keyes, + "And the only proper attitude + Is down upon his knees." + + "No, I should say the way to pray," + Said Rev. Dr. Wise, + "Is standing straight, with outstretched arms, + And rapt and upturned eyes." + + "Oh, no; no, no," said Elder Slow, + "Such posture is too proud; + A man should pray with eyes fast closed + And head contritely bowed." + + "It seems to me his hands should be + Austerely clasped in front, + With both thumbs pointing toward the ground," + Said Rev. Dr. Blunt. + + "Las' year I fell in Hodgkin's well + Head first," said Cyrus Brown, + "With both my heels a-stickin' up, + My head a-pinting down. + + "An' I made a prayer right then an' there-- + Best prayer I ever said. + The prayingest prayer I ever prayed, + A-standing on my head." + + + + +"Well told and dramatically strong, it breathes again the spirit of +Dumas and Bulwer-Lytton."--_Portland Oregonian._ + +The Palace of Danger + +A STORY OF LA POMPADOUR + +By MABEL WAGNALLS + +_Author of "Stars of the Opera," "Miserere," etc._ + + + "There have been few groups of characters who have been used more + frequently in fiction than the members of the court of Louis XV., + and there have been few attempts to make romance of their lives + that are quite so delightful as this story. Around the heroine and + hero Miss Wagnalls has spun a tale that has the quality of holding + the reader's attention from first page to last. _It is charged with + dramatic movement and a wealth and charm of style._"--_New York + Press._ + + "A powerful novel, exciting, interesting, and well worked + out."--_San Francisco Examiner._ + + "The author has shown skill in the use of her materials."--_Boston + Globe._ + + "It is a thoroughly human story, and so well constructed that the + interest holds one to the end."--_The Review of Reviews_, New York. + + "The author gives a splendid picture of that magnificent court and + the conditions which eventually brought about the revolution. The + precarious position of every member of that court from La Pompadour + down to the meanest lackey, whose very lives were in constant + danger from the whims of the weak but self-indulgent king, is made + very real by the author."--_Globe-Democrat_, St. Louis. + +_Illustrations by John Ward Dunsmore. 12mo, Cloth. $1.50_ + +FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers +NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + + +MISERERE + +By MABEL WAGNALLS + +_Author of "Stars of the Opera," &c._ + + +A brief, but beautiful romance in which the discovery of a rich and +powerful voice leads ultimately to a climax as thrilling as the death +scene in "Romeo and Juliet." The story is told with simple grace and +directness, and is singularly pathetic and forceful. + + "It is perfectly delightful. The theme is new and + interesting."--_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + + "It is a story of tender and pathetic interest--the story of a + woman with a wonderfully beautiful voice. A dainty and fascinating + romance which will appeal to music lovers."--_Chicago News._ + + "It vibrates with musical sentiment. There is a good deal of + artistic skill displayed in its description."--_Boston Watchman._ + + "A story unique in theme, delightfully told with many delicate + touches."--_The Arena_, Boston. + +_Small 12mo, Cloth. Illustrated. 40 Cents, net_ + +FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers +NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume +VII. 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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%;} + .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 .italic {font-style: italic;} + .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.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i7 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VII. +(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 VII. (of X.) + +Author: Various + +Editor: Marshall P. Wilder + +Release Date: September 18, 2006 [EBook #19325] + +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. VII</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/ade.jpg" +alt="GEORGE ADE" +title="GEORGE ADE" /></p> + +<p class="figcenter caption">GEORGE ADE</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA</h1> + +<h2>EDITED BY MARSHALL P. WILDER</h2> + +<h2><i>Volume VII</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'>Alphabet of Celebrities</td><td align='left'>Oliver Herford</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1243">1243</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Assault and Battery</td><td align='left'>Joseph G. Baldwin</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1391">1391</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Associated Widows, The</td><td align='left'>Katharine M. Roof</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1338">1338</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bill Nations</td><td align='left'>Bill Arp</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1368">1368</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Brakeman at Church, The</td><td align='left'>Robert J. Burdette</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1323">1323</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Breitmann and the Turners</td><td align='left'>Charles Godfrey Leland</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1217">1217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>By Bay and Sea</td><td align='left'>John Kendrick Bangs</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1367">1367</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Camp-Meeting, The</td><td align='left'>Baynard Rust Hall</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1265">1265</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Critic, The</td><td align='left'>William J. Lampton</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1336">1336</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Cupid, A Crook</td><td align='left'>Edward W. Townsend</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1220">1220</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dubious Future, The</td><td align='left'>Bill Nye</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1298">1298</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Educational Project, An</td><td align='left'>Roy Farrell Greene</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1264">1264</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fable</td><td align='left'>Ralph Waldo Emerson</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1358">1358</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Goat, The</td><td align='left'>R.K. Munkittrick</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1247">1247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Happy Land, The</td><td align='left'>Frank Roe Batchelder</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1389">1389</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>He and She</td><td align='left'>Ironquill</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1250">1250</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Holly Song</td><td align='left'>Clinton Scollard</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1260">1260</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How Mr. Terrapin Lost His Beard</td><td align='left'>Anne Virginia Culbertson</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1328">1328</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How Mr. Terrapin Lost His Plumage and Whistle</td><td align='left'>Anne Virginia Culbertson</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1360">1360</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In Defense of an Offering</td><td align='left'>Sewell Ford</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1248">1248</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>It is Time to Begin to Conclude</td><td align='left'>A.H. Laidlaw</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1294">1294</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jack Balcomb's Pleasant Ways</td><td align='left'>Meredith Nicholson</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1309">1309</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lost Inventor, The</td><td align='left'>Wallace Irwin</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1385">1385</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Margins</td><td align='left'>Robert J. Burdette</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1297">1297</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>My Cigarette</td><td align='left'>Charles F. Lummis</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1292">1292</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nonsense Verses</td><td align='left'>Gelett Burgess</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1244">1244</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Notary of Perigueux</td><td align='left'>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1251">1251</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nothin' Done</td><td align='left'>Sam S. Stinson</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1296">1296</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Omar in the Klondyke</td><td align='left'>Howard V. Sutherland</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1387">1387</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Prayer of Cyrus Brown, The</td><td align='left'>Sam Walter Foss</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1398">1398</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rhyme for Christmas, A</td><td align='left'>John Challing</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1290">1290</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Siege of Djklxprwbz, The</td><td align='left'>Ironquill</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1246">1246</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Skeleton in the Closet, The</td><td align='left'>Edward Everett Hale</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1371">1371</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Songs Without Words</td><td align='left'>Robert J. Burdette</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1261">1261</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Talk</td><td align='left'>John Paul</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1307">1307</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Triolets</td><td align='left'>C.W.M.</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1262">1262</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Two Cases of Grip</td><td align='left'>M. Quad</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1239">1239</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Utah</td><td align='left'>Eugene Field</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1305">1305</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wicked Zebra, The</td><td align='left'>Frank Roe Batchelder</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1322">1322</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Winter Fancy, A</td><td align='left'>R.K. Munkittrick</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1308">1308</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>What She Said About It</td><td align='left'>John Paul</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1263">1263</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Woman-Hater Reformed, The</td><td align='left'>Roy Farrell Greene</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1359">1359</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Women and Bargains</td><td align='left'>Nina R. Allen</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1352">1352</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<h3>COMPLETE INDEX AT THE END OF VOLUME X.</h3> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1217" id="Page_1217">[Pg 1217]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BREITMANN AND THE TURNERS</h2> + +<h3>BY CHARLES GODFREY LELAND</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Novemper in de fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und dey gifed a boostin' bender<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All in de Toorner Hall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dere coomed de whole Gesangverein<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mit der Liederlich Aepfel Chor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und dey blowed on de drooms und stroomed on de fifes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till dey couldn't refife no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dey all set oop some shouts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dey took'd him into deir Toorner Hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Und poots him a course of shprouts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dey poots him on de barrell-hell pars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Und shtands him oop on his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und dey poomps de beer mit an enchine hose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In his mout' dill he's 'pout half tead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dey make shimnastig dricks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stoot on de middle of de floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Und put oop a fifdy-six.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und den he trows it to de roof,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Und schwig off a treadful trink:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">De veight coom toomple pack on his headt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Und py shinks! he didn't vink!</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1218" id="Page_1218">[Pg 1218]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mein Gott! how dey drinked und shwore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dere vas Schwabians und Tyrolers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Und Bavarians by de score.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some vellers coomed from de Rheinland,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Und Frankfort-on-de-Main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boot dere vas only von Sharman dere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Und <i>he</i> vas a <i>Holstein</i> Dane.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mit a Limpurg' cheese he coom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ven he open de box it schmell so loudt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It knock de musik doomb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ven de Deutschers kit de flavor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It coorl de haar on dere head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boot dere vas dwo Amerigans dere;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Und, py tam! it kilt dem dead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">De ladies coomed in to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dey poot dem in de blace for de gals,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All in der gal-lerie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dey ashk: "Vhere ish der Breitmann?"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dey dremple mit awe and fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ven dey see him schwingen py de toes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A trinken lager bier.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I dells you vot py tam!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dey sings de great Urbummellied:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">De holy Sharman psalm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und ven dey kits to de gorus<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You ought to hear dem dramp!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It scared der Teufel down below<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hear de Dootchmen stamp.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1219" id="Page_1219">[Pg 1219]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Donner! it vas grand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vhen de whole of dem goes a valkin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Und dancin' on dere hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mit de veet all wavin' in de air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gottstausend! vot a dricks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dill der Breitmann fall und dey all go down<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shoost like a row of bricks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dey lay dere in a heap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slept dill de early sonnen shine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come in at de window creep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And de preeze it vake dem from deir dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dey go to kit deir feed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here hat' dis song an Ende—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Das ist <span class="smcap">Des Breitmannslied</span>.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1220" id="Page_1220">[Pg 1220]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CUPID, A CROOK</h2> + +<h3>BY EDWARD W. TOWNSEND</h3> + + +<p>The first night assignment Francis Holt received from his city editor +was in these words: "Mr. Holt, you will cover the Tenderloin to-night. +Mr. Fetner, who usually covers it, will explain what there is to do."</p> + +<p>Fetner, when his own work was done that night, sought Holt to help him +with any late story which might be troublesome to a new man. They were +walking up Broadway when Fetner, lowering his voice, said: "Here's +Duane, a plain-clothes man, who is useful to us. I'll introduce you."</p> + +<p>As the reporters, in the full flood of after-theater crowds, stood +talking to the officer, a young man hurrying past abruptly stopped and +stepped to Duane's side.</p> + +<p>"Well, Tommy, what's up with you?" the officer asked. Holt noted that +Tommy, besides being breathed, was excited. His coat and hat had the +provisional look of the apparel of house servants out of livery, and his +trousers belonged to a livery suit. Tommy hesitated, glancing at Duane's +companions, but the officer said: "Tell your story: these are friends of +mine."</p> + +<p>"I was just on my way to the station house to see the captain, but I'm +glad I met you, for we don't want the papers to say anything, and +there's always reporters around the station."</p> + +<p>Holt would have stepped back, but Fetner detained him, while Duane said +cheerfully: "You're a cunning one, Tommy. Now, what's wrong?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1221" id="Page_1221">[Pg 1221]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," began the youth in the manner of a witness on the stand, "I was +on duty in the hall this evening and noticed one of our tenants, Mr. +Porter H. Carrington, leave the house about ten o'clock. I noticed that +he had no overcoat, which I thought was queer, for I'd just closed the +front door, because it was getting chilly."</p> + +<p>At the mention of the name Holt started, and now paid close attention to +the story.</p> + +<p>"I was reading the sporting extra by the hall light," Tommy continued, +"when, in about twenty minutes, Mr. Carrington returned—that is, I +thought it was Mr. Carrington—and he says to me, 'Tommy, run up to my +dressing-room and fetch my overcoat.' 'Yes, sir,' I says; 'which one?' +for he has a dozen of 'em. 'The light one I wore to-day,' he says, and I +starts up the stairs, his apartment being on the next floor, thinking +I'd see the coat he wanted on a chair if he'd worn it to-day. I'd just +got to his hall and was unlocking the door, when he comes up behind me +and says, 'I'll get it, Tommy; there's something else I want.' So in he +goes, handing me a dime, and I goes back to the hall. In about fifteen +minutes he comes downstairs wearing an overcoat and carrying a bundle, +tosses me the key and starts for the door. He's the kind that never +carries a bundle, so I says to him, 'Shall I ring for a messenger to +carry your package?' 'No,' says he, and leaves the house."</p> + +<p>Tommy paused, and there was a shake of excitement in his voice when he +resumed: "In five minutes Mr. Carrington comes back without any +overcoat, and says, Tommy, run upstairs and get me an overcoat.' I +looks, and he was as sober as I am at this minute, Mr. Duane, and I +begins to feel queer. It sort of comes over me all of a sudden that the +voice of the other man I'd unlocked the door for was different from this +one. But I'd been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1222" id="Page_1222">[Pg 1222]</a></span> reading the baseball news, and didn't notice much at +the time. So I says, hoping it was some kind of a jolly, 'Did you lose +the one you just wore out, sir?' 'I wore no coat,' he says, giving me a +look. Well, he goes to his apartment, me after him, and there was things +flung all over the place, and all the signs of a hurry job by a +sneak-thief. Mr. Carrington was kind of petrified, but I runs downstairs +and tells the superintendent, and he chases me off to the station. The +superintendent was mad and rags me good, for there never was a job of +that kind done in the house. But the other man was the same looking as +the real, so how was I to know?"</p> + +<p>Duane started off with Tommy, and winked to the reporters to follow. At +the Quadrangle, a bachelor apartment house noted for its high rents and +exclusiveness, Duane was met at the entrance by the superintendent, who +told the officer that there was nothing in the story, after all. It was +a lark of a friend of his, Mr. Carrington had said, and was annoyed that +news of the affair had been sent to the police. The superintendent was +glad that Tommy had not reached the station house. Duane looked +inquiringly at the superintendent, who gravely winked.</p> + +<p>"Good night," said Duane, holding out his hand. "Good night," replied +the other, taking the hand. "You won't report this at the station?" +"No," said Duane, who then put his hand in his pocket and returned to +the reporters. He told them what the superintendent had said.</p> + +<p>"What do you make out of it?" asked Fetner.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," the officer replied. "If I tried to make out the cases we are +asked not to investigate, I'd have mighty little time to work on the +cases we are wanted in. If Mr. Carrington says he hasn't been robbed, it +isn't our business to prove that he has been. You won't print anything +about this?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1223" id="Page_1223">[Pg 1223]</a></span></p> + +<p>Fetner said he would not. To have done so after that promise would have +closed a fruitful source of Tenderloin stories. The reporters left the +officer at Broadway and resumed their interrupted walk to supper. "Lots +of funny things happen in the Tenderloin," Fetner remarked, in the +manner of one dismissing a subject.</p> + +<p>"But," exclaimed Holt, quite as excited as Tommy had been, "I know +Carrington."</p> + +<p>"So does every one," answered Fetner, "by name and reputation. He's just +a swell—swell enough to be noted. Isn't that all?"</p> + +<p>"He was a couple of classes ahead of me at college," continued Holt. "I +didn't know him there—one doesn't know half of one's own class—but his +family and mine are old friends, and without troubling himself to know +me, more than to nod, he sometimes sent me word to use his horses when +he was away. Before I left college and went to work on a Boston paper, +Carrington started on a trip around the world. My people heard of him +through his people at times, and learned that he was doing a number of +crazy things, among them getting lost in all sorts of No-man's-lands. +His people were usually asking the State Department to locate him, +through the diplomatic and consular services."</p> + +<p>"Then this is one of his eccentricities," commented Fetner.</p> + +<p>"How can you treat it like that?" exclaimed Holt. "I think it is a +fascinating mystery, and I'm going to solve it."</p> + +<p>"Not for publication," warned Fetner.</p> + +<p>"For my own satisfaction," declared Holt, with great earnestness.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When the superintendent of the Quadrangle had shaken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1224" id="Page_1224">[Pg 1224]</a></span> hands with the +officer he turned to Tommy and said: "You go up to Mr. Carrington. He +wants to see you."</p> + +<p>"Tommy," said Mr. Carrington, "I think this is a joke on you."</p> + +<p>This view of the event was such a relief to Tommy that he grinned +broadly.</p> + +<p>"It is certainly a joke on you. Now, Thomas, did my friend make himself +up to look so much like me that you could not have told the difference, +even if you were not distracted by the discomfiture of the New York nine +this season?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say how much he looked like you, and how much he didn't. I +naturally thought he was you—that's all."</p> + +<p>"Not all, Thomas: nothing is all. He asked in an easy, nice voice for a +coat, so you thought he was somebody who had a coat here. How did you +know whose coat he preferred?"</p> + +<p>"Because I thought he was you."</p> + +<p>"If I had not been the last tenant to leave the house before that, would +you have thought so? If Mr. Hopkins had just left, and that man had come +in and asked for 'My coat,' wouldn't you have got Mr. Hopkins' coat?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hopkins did go out after you," Tommy admitted, reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he did, eh? Well, Hopkins is always going out. I never knew such a +regular out-and-outer as Hopkins. He should reform. It's a joke on you, +Thomas, and if I were you I wouldn't say anything about it."</p> + +<p>"I ain't going to say anything," declared Tommy. "If I don't lose my job +for it, I'll be lucky."</p> + +<p>"I'll see that you do not lose your job. What police did you see?"</p> + +<p>"Only a plain-clothes man I know, and a couple of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1225" id="Page_1225">[Pg 1225]</a></span> side-partners. +They won't say anything, for the superintendent fixed them."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mr. Carrington secured his college degree a year after his class. The +delay resulted from an occurrence which he never admitted deserved a +year's rustication. By mere chance he had learned the date of the +birthday of one of the least known and least important instructors, and +decided that it would be well to celebrate it. So he made the +acquaintance of the instructor and invited him to a birthday dinner. A +large and exultant company were the instructor's fellow guests at the +St. Dunstan, and there was jollity that seemed out of drawing with the +dominant lines of the guest of honor; yet the scope of the celebration +was extended until it included the burning of much red fire and +explosion of many noisy bombs at a late hour, as the instructor was +making a speech of thanks in the yard, surrounded by the dinner guests, +heartily encouraging him. It seemed that upon the manner in which the +affair was to be presented to the Faculty depended the dismissal of the +instructor or the rustication of Mr. Carrington; and the latter managed +to present the case so as to save the instructor. If he had foreseen all +the consequences of taking all the blame for an occurrence promptly +distorted in report into the aspect of a riotous carousal, perhaps Mr. +Carrington would not have sacrificed himself for a neutral personality +which had so recently swum into his ken. One consequence was a letter +from Mr. Draper Curtis, of New York, commanding Mr. Carrington to cease +correspondence with Miss Caroline Curtis; and a note from Caroline, in +which a calmer man than a distracted lover would have seen signs of +parental censorship, wherein that young lady said that she had read her +father's letter and added her commands to his. She had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1226" id="Page_1226">[Pg 1226]</a></span> heard from many +sources, as had numerous indignant relatives and friends, the +particulars of the shocking affair which had compelled the Faculty to +discipline Mr. Carrington; and she could but agree with her family that +her happiness would rest upon insecure ground if trusted to the inciter +and principal offender in such a terrible transaction. He was to forget +her at once, as she would try to forget him.</p> + +<p>Caroline and her mamma sailed for Europe the next day, and several +letters Carrington wrote to her, giving a less censurable version of the +little dinner to the little instructor, were returned to him unopened.</p> + +<p>After receiving his delayed degree Carrington began a tour around the +world. In the court of the Palace Hotel, the day of his departure from +San Francisco, a commonplace-looking man stepped up to him briskly, and +said, placing a hand on his shoulder: "Presidio, you've got a nerve to +come back here. You, to the ferry; or with me to the captain!"</p> + +<p>Carrington turned his full face toward the man for the first time as he +brushed aside the hand with some force. The man reddened, blinked, and +then stammered: "Excuse me, but you did look so—Say, you must excuse +me, for I see that you are a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Isn't Presidio a gentleman?" Carrington asked, good-naturedly, when he +saw that the man's confusion was genuine.</p> + +<p>"Why, Presidio is—do you mind sitting down at one of these tables? I +feel a little shaky—making such a break!"</p> + +<p>He explained that he was the hotel's detective, and had been on the +city's police force. In both places he had dealings with a confidence +man, called Presidio—after the part of the city he came from. Presidio +was an odd lot; had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1227" id="Page_1227">[Pg 1227]</a></span> enough skill in several occupations to earn honest +wages, but seemed unable to forego the pleasure of exercising his wit in +confidence games and sneak-thievery. Among his honest accomplishments +was the ability to perform sleight-of-hand tricks well enough to work +profitably in the lesser theater circuits. He had married a woman who +made part of the show Presidio operated for a time—a good-looking +woman, but as ready to turn a confidence trick as to help her husband's +stage work, or do a song and dance as an interlude. They had been warned +to leave San Francisco for a year, and not to return then, unless +bringing proof that they had walked in moral paths during their exile.</p> + +<p>"And you mistook me for Presidio?" asked Carrington, with the manner of +one flattered.</p> + +<p>"For a second, and seeing only your side face. Of course, I saw my +mistake when you turned and spoke to me. Presidio is considered the +best-looking crook we've ever had."</p> + +<p>"Now, that's nice! Where did you say he's gone?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>Carrington found that out for himself. He first interrupted his voyage +by a stop of some weeks in Japan. Later, at the Oriental Hotel in +Manila, the day of his arrival there, he saw a man observing him with +smiling interest, a kind of smile and interest which prompted Carrington +to smile in return. He was bored because the only officer he knew in the +Philippines was absent from Manila on an expedition to the interior; and +the man who smiled looked as if he might scatter the blues if he were +permitted to try. The stranger approached with a bright, frank look, and +said, "Don't you remember me, Mr. Carrington?"</p> + +<p>"No-o."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1228" id="Page_1228">[Pg 1228]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was head waiter at the St. Dunstan."</p> + +<p>"Oh, were you? Well, your face has a familiar look, somehow."</p> + +<p>"Excuse my speaking to you, but I guess your last trip was what induced +me to come out here."</p> + +<p>"That's odd."</p> + +<p>"It is sort of funny. I'd saved a good deal—I'm the saving sort—and +the tenner you gave me that night—you remember, the night of <i>the</i> +dinner—happened to fetch my pile up to exactly five hundred. So +I says to myself that here was my chance to make a break for +freedom—independence, you understand."</p> + +<p>"We're the very deuce for independence down our way."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, sir. I was awfully sorry to hear about the trouble you got +in at college; but, if you don't mind my saying so now, you boys were +going it a little that night."</p> + +<p>"Going it? What night? There were several."</p> + +<p>"The red-fire night. You tipped me ten for that dinner."</p> + +<p>"Did I? I hope you have it yet, Mr.—"</p> + +<p>"James Wilkins, sir. Did you see Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Culver as you passed +through San Francisco?"</p> + +<p>"I did. How did you happen to know that I knew them?"</p> + +<p>"I remember that they were chums of yours at college. We heard lots of +college gossip at St. Dunstan's. I called on them in San Francisco, and +Mr. Thorpe got me half-fare rates here. I've opened a restaurant here, +and am doing a good business. Some of the officers who knew me at the +St. Dunstan kind of made my place fashionable. Lieutenant Sommers, of +the cavalry, won't dine anywhere else."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1229" id="Page_1229">[Pg 1229]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sommers? I expected to find him here."</p> + +<p>"He's just gone out with an expedition. He told me that you'd be along, +and that I was to see that you didn't starve. I've named my place the +St. Dunstan, and I'd like you to call there—I remember your favorite +dishes."</p> + +<p>"That's very decent of you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilkins looked frequently toward the entrance, with seeming anxiety. +"I wish the proprietor of this place would come in," he said at last. +"Lieutenant Sommers left me a check on this house for a hundred—Mr. +Sommers roomed here, and left his money with the office. I need the cash +to pay a carpenter who has built an addition for me. Kind of funny to be +worth not a cent less than five thousand gold, in stock and good will, +and be pushed for a hundred cash."</p> + +<p>"If you've Mr. Sommers' check, I'll let you have the money—for St. +Dunstan's sake."</p> + +<p>"If you could? Of course, you know the lieutenant's signature?"</p> + +<p>"As well as my own. Quite right. Here you are. Where is your +restaurant?"</p> + +<p>"You cross the Lunette, turn toward the bay—ask anybody. Hope to see +you soon. Good day."</p> + +<p>Some officers called on Carrington, as they had been told to do by the +absent Sommers. When introductions were over, one of them handed a paper +to Carrington, saying gravely: "Sommers told me to give this to you. It +was published in San Francisco the day after you left, and reached here +while you were in Japan."</p> + +<p>What Carrington saw was a San Francisco newspaper story of his encounter +with the Palace Hotel detective, an account of his famous dinner at the +St. Dunstan, some selections of his other college pranks, allusion to +the fact that he was a classmate of two San Franciscans, Messrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1230" id="Page_1230">[Pg 1230]</a></span> Thorpe +and Culver, the whole illustrated with pictures of Carrington and +Presidio—the latter taken from the rogues' gallery. "Very pretty, very +pretty, indeed," murmured Carrington, his eyes lingering with thoughtful +pause on the picture of Presidio. "Could we not celebrate my fame in +some place of refreshment—the St. Dunstan, for instance?"</p> + +<p>They knew of no St. Dunstan's.</p> + +<p>"I foreboded it," sighed Carrington. He narrated his recent experience +with one James Wilkins, "who, I now opine, is Mr. Presidio. It's not +worth troubling the police about, but I'd give a pretty penny to see Mr. +Presidio again. Not to reprove him for the error of his ways, but to +discover the resemblance which has led to this winsome newspaper story."</p> + +<p>The next day one of the officers told Carrington that he had learned +that Presidio and his wife, known to the police by a number of names, +had taken ship the afternoon before.</p> + +<p>"I see," remarked Carrington. "He needed exactly my tip to move to new +fields. He worked me from the article in the paper, which he had seen +and I had not. Clever Presidio!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Tommy, the hall-boy, on the night of Mr. Holt's first Tenderloin +assignment, went to inform the police, Carrington, looking about the +apartment to discover the extent of his loss, found on a table a letter +superinscribed, "Before sending for the police, read this." He read:</p> + +<p>"Dear Mr. Carrington: Since we met in Manila I have been to about every +country on top of the earth where a white man's show could be worked. +It's been up and down, and down and up, the last turn being down. In +India I got some sleight-of-hand tricks which are new to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1231" id="Page_1231">[Pg 1231]</a></span> this country; +but here we land, wife and me, broke. Nothing but our apparatus, which +we can't eat; and not able to use it, because we are shy on dress +clothes demanded by the houses where I could get engagements. In that +condition I happened to see you on the street, and thought to try a +touch; and would, but you might be sore over the little fun we had in +Manila. I heard in South Africa that you wouldn't let the army officers +start the police after me; and wife says that was as square a deal as +she ever heard of, and to try a touch. But I says we will make a forced +loan, and repay out of our salaries. We hocked our apparatus to get me a +suit of clothes which looked something like those you wear, and the rest +was easy: finding out Tommy's name and then conning him. I've taken some +clothes and jewelry, to make a front at the booking office, and some +cash. You should empty your pockets of loose cash: I found some in all +your clothes. Give me and wife a chance, and we will live straight after +this, and remit on instalment. You can get me pinched easy, for we'll be +playing the continuous circuit in a week; but wife says you won't +squeal, and I'll take chances. Yours, sincerely as always, Presidio."</p> + +<p>So Carrington told the superintendent to drop the matter.</p> + +<p>The Great Courvatals, Monsieur and Madame, showed their new tricks to +the booking agent and secured a forty weeks' engagement at a salary +which only Presidio's confidence could have asked.</p> + +<p>Presidio liked New York, and exploited it in as many directions as +possible. With his new fashionable clothing and his handsome face, he +was admitted to resorts of a character his boldest dreams had never +before penetrated. He especially liked the fine restaurants. None so +jocund, so frank and free as Presidio in ordering the best at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1232" id="Page_1232">[Pg 1232]</a></span> best +places. Mrs. Presidio did not accompany him; she was enjoying the more +poignant pleasure of shopping, with a responsible theater manager as her +reference! At a restaurant one midday, as Presidio was leisurely +breakfasting, he became aware that he was the object of furtive +observation by a young lady, seated with an elderly companion at a table +somewhat removed. Furtive doings were in his line, and he made a close +study of the party, never turning more than a scant half-face to do so. +The manner of the young lady was puzzling. None so keen as Presidio in +reading expression, but hers he could not understand. That she was not +trying to flirt with him he decided promptly and definitively; yet her +looks were intended to attract his attention, and to do so secretly. The +elderly companion, when the couple was leaving the restaurant, stopped +in the vestibule to allow an attendant to adjust her wrap, and Presidio +seized that chance to pass close to the young lady, moving as slowly as +he dared without seeming to be concerned in her actions. Her head was +averted, but Presidio distinctly heard her breathe, rather than whisper, +"Pass by the house to-morrow afternoon."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Presidio pondered. He was supposed to know where her house was; he was +unwelcome to some one there; he was mistaken for some one +else—Carrington!</p> + +<p>When he told his wife about it she was in a fever of romantic +excitement. Bruising knocks in the world, close approaches to the shades +of the prison house, hardships which would have banished romance from a +nature less robustly romantic, had for Mrs. Presidio but more glowingly +suffused with the tints of romance all life—but her own! "Mr. +Carrington has done us right, Willie," she declared; "once in Manila, +when we simply <i>had</i> to get to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1233" id="Page_1233">[Pg 1233]</a></span> Hong Kong; and here, where we wouldn't +have had no show on earth if he hadn't lent you the clothes and cash for +the start. There's something doing here, Willie; and I'm all lit up with +excitement."</p> + +<p>Presidio, who, of course, had followed the young lady to learn where she +lived, passed the house the next day, the sedatest looking man on the +sedate block. Presently a maid came from the house, gave him a beckoning +nod, and hurried on round the corner. There she slipped him a note, +saying as she walked on, "I was to give you this, Mr. Carrington."</p> + +<p>Presidio took the note to his wife, and she declared for opening it. It +was sealed, and addressed to another person; but to let such an +informality as opening another's letters stand in the way of knowing +what was going on around them would have been foreign to the nature of +Presidio activities. This was the note:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear Porter: Your letters to papa will not be answered. I heard +him say so to mamma, yesterday. He is angry that you wrote to him +on the very day I returned from Europe. He will send me back there +if you try to see me, as you say you will, but dear, even at that +cost I must see you once more. I have never forgotten, never ceased +to love; but there is no hope! A companion accompanies me always, +the one you saw in the restaurant; but the maid who will hand you +this is trustworthy, and will bring me any message you give to her. +If you can arrange for a moment's meeting it will give me something +to cherish in my memory through the remainder of my sad and +hopeless life. Only for a moment, dear.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;">"Caroline."</p></div> + +<p>Mrs. Presidio wept. Here was romance sadder, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1234" id="Page_1234">[Pg 1234]</a></span> therefore better, than +any she had ever read; better, even, than that in the one-act dramas +which followed their turns on the stage. "Have you ever studied his +writing?" she asked her husband; and, promptly divining her plan, he +replied, "I made a few copies of his signature on the Manila hotel +register. You never know what will turn up." After a pause, he added +eagerly, "Better yet!—there was some of his writing in the overcoat I +borrowed from his rooms."</p> + +<p>"Write to her; make an appointment, and have him on hand to keep it."</p> + +<p>Here was work right in Presidio's line; his professional pride was +fired, and he wrote with grave application:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Darling Caroline: Thank you, sweetheart, for words which have kept +me from suicide. Love of my life, I can not live until we meet! But +only for a moment? Nay, for ever and ever!"</p></div> + +<p>"That's beautiful!" declared Mrs. Presidio, looking over Willie's +shoulder. He continued:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I shall hand this to your maid; but you must not meet me there; it +would be too dangerous. Leave your house one-half hour after +receiving this, and go around the corner where you will see a lady, +a relative of mine, who will drive with you to a safe tryst. Trust +her, and heaven speed the hour! With undying love. Porter."</p></div> + +<p>This was all written in a good imitation of Carrington's rather unusual +handwriting, and approved by Mrs. Presidio; who, however, thought there +should be some reference to the young lady's home as a beetled tower, +and to her father as several things which Presidio feared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1235" id="Page_1235">[Pg 1235]</a></span> might not be +esteemed polite in the social plane they were operating in. He passed +the house the next day, and the maid soon appeared. He learned from her +that her mistress's companion was not at home; and then, hopeful because +of this opportune absence, hurried off, leaving Mrs. Presidio round the +corner in a carriage. He went to a club where, he had ascertained, +Carrington usually was at that hour, and sent in the card of "M. +Courvatal," on which he wrote, "Presidio." Carrington came out to him at +once. "My dear Mr. Presidio, this is so kind of you," he said, regarding +his caller with interest. "We've not met since Manila. I hope Mrs. +Presidio is well, and that your professional engagements prosper. I went +to see you perform last night, and was delighted."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," the caller said, much pleased with this reception. "I'll be +sending the balance of my little debt to you as soon as the wife has her +dressmaking bills settled."</p> + +<p>"Pray do not incommode the wife. The amount you have already sent was a +pleasant—surprise. Can I be of any service to you to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's like this, Mr. Carrington: I have an appointment for you +this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"For me?"</p> + +<p>"With Miss Caroline Curtis."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be offended, sir. Come with me, and see what you'll see. If I try +any game, pitch into me, that's all."</p> + +<p>The man's manner was now so earnest that Carrington, without a word, +started with him. In the club entrance Presidio whispered, "Follow; +don't walk with me. There's not much chance that any one here will +recognize me, but if I was pinched on any old score you'd better not be +in my company." He went ahead, and Carrington fol<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1236" id="Page_1236">[Pg 1236]</a></span>lowed. They had walked +down Fifth Avenue several blocks when Mr. Francis Holt cut in between +them, and shadowed Presidio with elaborate caution. Carrington saw this, +and mused. "I think I know that young man who has so plainly got friend +Presidio under observation. Surely, it's Holt, a year or two after me. +What can he—Hello, I say!"</p> + +<p>Holt saw the intention of Presidio to turn off the avenue toward a +little church round the corner, and advancing suddenly, laid a strong +hand on Presidio's shoulder, saying, "Come quietly with me, and I'll +make no fuss; but if you don't, I'll call a policeman."</p> + +<p>Carrington overtook them. Holt was excited, wild-eyed, disheveled, and +seemed not to have slept for a week. Presidio coolly awaited events.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Holt!" exclaimed Carrington. "How are you, old chap? Haven't +seen you for years."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, this is lucky!" cried Holt. "Carrington, since the night +your rooms were plundered I've been on the track of this villain. I was +bound to explain the mystery of that night; determined to prove that I +could unravel a plot, detect a crime! Do you understand? This is the +fellow who rifled your room. Robbed you!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, old fellow," Carrington replied soothingly, for he saw +that Holt was half hysterical from excitement. "He's always robbing me, +this chap is. It's a habit with him. I've come rather to like it. Walk +along with us, and I'll tell you all about it."</p> + +<p>They turned the corner and walked down the side street, but only Holt +talked: of his sleepless nights and tireless days solving his first +crime case. A carriage drove up to the curb and Mrs. Presidio stepped +out. At a wink from Presidio Carrington stepped in.</p> + +<p>"Betty," said Presidio to his wife, "shake hands with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1237" id="Page_1237">[Pg 1237]</a></span> an old friend of +mine and of Mr. Carrington's. I want you to know him. Mr. Holt, shake +hands with Madame Courvatal, my wife."</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Holt, glad to meet you personally!" exclaimed Betty. "This is +the gent, Willie, I've told you about: comes to the show every night +just before our turn, and goes out as soon as we are off."</p> + +<p>"Glad you like the turn so much," Presidio said, smiling oddly. Holt, +with his hand to his brow was gasping. The carriage door opened and +Carrington's head emerged: "Oh, Holt, come here."</p> + +<p>Holt, with a painfully dazed expression, went to the carriage. "My +dear," Carrington said to some one inside who was struggling to hide, +"this is Mr. Francis Holt; one of my oldest and dearest friends. He's +the discreetest fellow I know and will arrange the whole matter in a +minute. You must, darling! Fate has offered us a chance for life's +happiness, and as I say—Holt, like a good fellow, go into the parsonage +and explain who I am, and who Miss Caroline Curtis is. Your people know +all the Curtises, and we're going to get married, and—don't protest, +darling!—like a good chap, Holt, go and—for God's sake, man, don't +stare like that! You know us, and can vouch for us. Tell the parson that +the Curtises and Carringtons are always marrying each other. Holt! will +you move?"</p> + +<p>An hour later a little banquet was served in the private dining-room of +a hotel, and Mrs. Carrington was explaining, between tears and laughter, +how good, kind Madame Courvatal had told her that everything was ready +for a wedding, and that she would be a cruel woman, indeed, not to make +such a loving lover happy; and she couldn't make up her mind to say yes, +and it was hard to say no—just after receiving Porter's despairing +note.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1238" id="Page_1238">[Pg 1238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My note, dear?" asked Carrington, but Presidio coughed so loudly she +did not hear her husband's question. Holt drank to the bride and groom +several times before he began soberly to believe he was not in a dream. +Mr. and Mrs. Presidio beamed broadly, and declared that life without +romance was no kind of a life for honest folk to live.</p> + +<p>"Holt!" exclaimed Carrington, when the train carriage was announced, +"you've been a brick about all this. I don't know how to show my +appreciation."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you how," suggested Presidio. "Let Mr. Holt be the one to +tell Mr. Curtis. He deserves the privilege of informing the governor."</p> + +<p>"The very thing, Holt, old chap!" cried Carrington. "Will you do it?"</p> + +<p>"You're awfully kind," answered Holt, "but I think this old friend could +do it with more art and understanding."</p> + +<p>"What, my Willie?" cried Willie's wife. "He'll do it to the Queen's +taste. Won't you, Willie?"</p> + +<p>"I will, in company with Mr. Holt—my friend and your admirer. He sits +in front every night," he added, in explanation to Carrington.</p> + +<p>As the carriage with the happy pair drove away to the station, Presidio, +with compulsive ardor, took the arm of Mr. Francis Holt; and together +they marched up the avenue to inform Mr. Curtis of the marriage of his +daughter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1239" id="Page_1239">[Pg 1239]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TWO CASES OF GRIP</h2> + +<h3>BY M. QUAD</h3> + + +<p>"What's this! What's this!" exclaimed Mr. Bowser, as he came home the +other evening and found Mrs. Bowser lying on the sofa and looking very +much distressed.</p> + +<p>"The doctor says it's the grip—a second attack," she explained. "I was +taken with a chill and headache about noon and—"</p> + +<p>"Grip? Second attack? That's all nonsense, Mrs. Bowser! Nobody can have +the grip a second time."</p> + +<p>"But the doctor says so."</p> + +<p>"Then the doctor is an idiot, and I'll tell him so to his face. I know +what's the matter with you. You've been walking around the backyard +barefoot or doing some other foolish thing. I expected it, however. No +woman is happy unless she's flat down about half the time. How on earth +any of your sex manage to live to be twenty years old is a mystery to +me. The average woman has no more sense than a rag baby."</p> + +<p>"I haven't been careless," she replied.</p> + +<p>"I know better! Of course you have! If you hadn't been you wouldn't be +where you are. Grip be hanged! Well, it's only right that you should +suffer for it. Call it what you wish, but don't expect any sympathy from +me. While I use every precaution to preserve my health, you go sloshing +around in your bare feet, or sit on a cake of ice to read a dime novel, +or do some other tomfool<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1240" id="Page_1240">[Pg 1240]</a></span> thing to flatten you out. I refuse to +sympathize with you, Mrs. Bowser—absolutely and teetotally refuse to +utter one word of pity."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bowser had nothing to say in reply. Mr. Bowser ate his dinner +alone, took advantage of the occasion to drive a few nails and make a +great noise, and by and by went off to his club and was gone until +midnight. Next morning Mrs. Bowser felt a bit better and made a heroic +attempt to be about until he started for the office.</p> + +<p>The only reference he made to her illness was to say:</p> + +<p>"If you live to be three hundred years old, you may possibly learn +something about the laws of health and be able to keep out of bed three +days in a week."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bowser was all right at the end of three or four days, and nothing +more was said. Then one afternoon at three o'clock a carriage drove up +and a stranger assisted Mr. Bowser into the house. He was looking pale +and ghastly, and his chin quivered, and his knees wabbled.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Mr. Bowser?" she exclaimed, as she met him at the door.</p> + +<p>"Bed—doctor—death!" he gasped in reply.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bowser got him to bed and examined him for bullet holes or knife +wounds. There were none. He had no broken limbs. He hadn't fallen off a +horse or been half drowned. When she had satisfied herself on these +points, she asked:</p> + +<p>"How were you taken?"</p> + +<p>"W-with a c-chill!" he gasped—"with a c-chill and a b-backache!"</p> + +<p>"I thought so. Mr. Bowser, you have the grip—a second attack. As I have +some medicine left, there's no need to send for the doctor. I'll have +you all right in a day or two."</p> + +<p>"Get the doctor at once," wailed Mr. Bowser, "or I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1241" id="Page_1241">[Pg 1241]</a></span> a dead man! Such a +backache! So cold! Mrs. Bowser, if I should d-die, I hope—"</p> + +<p>Emotion overcame Mr. Bowser, and he could say no more. The doctor came +and pronounced it a second attack of the grip, but a very mild one. When +he had departed, Mrs. Bowser didn't accuse Mr. Bowser with putting on +his summer flannels a month too soon; with forgetting his umbrella and +getting soaked through; with leaving his rubbers at home and having damp +feet all day. She didn't express her wonder that he hadn't died years +ago, nor predict that when he reached the age of Methuselah he would +know better than to roll in snow-banks or stand around in mud puddles. +She didn't kick over chairs or slam doors or leave him alone. When Mr. +Bowser shed tears, she wiped them away. When he moaned, she held his +hand. When he said he felt that the grim specter was near, and wanted to +kiss the baby good-by, she cheered him with the prediction that he would +be a great deal better next day.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bowser didn't get up next day, though the doctor said he could. He +lay in bed and sighed and uttered sorrowful moans and groans. He wanted +toast and preserves; he had to have help to turn over; he worried about +a relapse; he had to have a damp cloth on his forehead; he wanted to +have a council of doctors, and he read the copy of his last will and +testament over three times.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bowser was all right next morning, however. When Mrs. Bowser asked +him how he felt he replied:</p> + +<p>"How do I feel? Why, as right as a trivet, of course. When a man takes +the care of himself that I do—when he has the nerve and will power I +have—he can throw off 'most anything. You would have died, Mrs. Bowser; +but I was scarcely affected. It was just a play spell. I'd like to be +real sick once just to see how it would seem.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1242" id="Page_1242">[Pg 1242]</a></span> Cholera, I suppose it +was; but outside of feeling a little tired, I wasn't at all affected."</p> + +<p>And the dutiful Mrs. Bowser looked at him and swallowed it all and never +said a word to hurt his feelings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1243" id="Page_1243">[Pg 1243]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ALPHABET OF CELEBRITIES</h2> + +<h3>BY OLIVER HERFORD</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">E is for Edison, making believe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's invented a clever contrivance for Eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who complained that she never could laugh in her sleeve.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O is for Oliver, casting aspersion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Omar, that awfully dissolute Persian,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though secretly longing to join the diversion.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">R's Rubenstein, playing that old thing in F<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Rollo and Rembrandt, who wish they were deaf.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">S is for Swinburne, who, seeking the true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good, and the beautiful, visits the Zoo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where he chances on Sappho and Mr. Sardou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Socrates, all with the same end in view.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">W's Wagner, who sang and played lots,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Washington, Wesley and good Dr. Watts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His prurient plots pained Wesley and Watts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Washington said he "enjoyed them in spots."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1244" id="Page_1244">[Pg 1244]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>NONSENSE VERSES</h2> + +<h3>BY GELETT BURGESS</h3> + + +<h3>1</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Window has Four little Panes:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But One have I;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Window-Panes are in its sash,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wonder why!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My Feet they haul me 'round the House;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They hoist me up the Stairs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only have to steer them and<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They ride me everywheres.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Remarkable truly, is Art!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See—Elliptical wheels on a Cart!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It looks very fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the Picture up there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But imagine the Ride when you start!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>4</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'd rather have fingers than Toes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd rather have Ears than a Nose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as for my hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'm glad it's all there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll be awfully sad when it goes!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1245" id="Page_1245">[Pg 1245]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3>5</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wish that my Room had a floor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I don't so much care for a Door,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But this walking around<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without touching the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is getting to be quite a bore!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1246" id="Page_1246">[Pg 1246]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE SIEGE OF DJKLXPRWBZ</h2> + +<h3>BY IRONQUILL</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Before a Turkish town<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Russians came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with huge cannon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did bombard the same.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They got up close<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rained fat bombshells down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blew out every<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vowel in the town.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then the Turks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Becoming somewhat sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surrendered every<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Consonant they had.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1247" id="Page_1247">[Pg 1247]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE GOAT</h2> + +<h3>BY R.K. MUNKITTRICK</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down in the cellar dark, remote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where alien cats the larder note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In solemn grandeur stands the goat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Without he hears the winter storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while the drafts about him swarm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He eats the coal to keep him warm.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1248" id="Page_1248">[Pg 1248]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IN DEFENSE OF AN OFFERING</h2> + +<h3>BY SEWELL FORD</h3> + + +<p>Gracious! You're not going to smoke again? I do believe, my dear, that +you're getting to be a regular, etc., etc. (Voice from across the +reading table.)</p> + +<p>A slave to tobacco! Not I. Singular, the way you women misuse nouns. I +am, rather, a chosen acolyte in the temple of Nicotiana. Daily, aye, +thrice daily—well, call it six, then—do I make burnt offering. Now +some use censers of clay, others employ censers of rare white earth +finely carved and decked with silver and gold. My particular censer, as +you see, is a plain, honest briar, a root dug from the banks of the blue +Garonne, whose only glory is its grain and color. The original tint, if +you remember, was like that of new-cut cedar, but use—I've been smoking +this one only two years now—has given it gloss and depth of tone which +put the finest mahogany to shame. Let me rub it on my sleeve. Now look!</p> + +<p>There are no elaborate mummeries about our service in the temple of +Nicotiana. No priest or pastor, no robed muezzin or gowned prelate calls +me to the altar. Neither is there fixed hour or prescribed point of the +compass towards which I must turn. Whenever the mood comes and the +spirit listeth, I make devotion.</p> + +<p>There are various methods, numerous brief litanies. Mine is a common and +simple one. I take the cut Indian leaf in the left palm, so, and roll it +gently about with the right, thus. Next I pack it firmly in the censer's +hollow bowl with neither too firm nor too light a pressure. Any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1249" id="Page_1249">[Pg 1249]</a></span> fire +will do. The torch need not be blessed. Thanks, I have a match.</p> + +<p>Now we are ready. With the surplus breath of life you draw in the +fragrant spirit of the weed. With slow, reluctant outbreathing you loose +it on the quiet air. Behold! That which was but a dead thing, lives. +Perhaps we have released the soul of some brave red warrior who, long +years ago, fell in glorious battle and mingled his dust with the +unforgetting earth. Each puff may give everlasting liberty to some dead +and gone aboriginal. If you listen you may hear his far-off chant. +Through the curling blue wreaths you may catch a glimpse of the happy +hunting grounds to which he has now gone. That is the part of the +service whose losing or gaining depends upon yourself.</p> + +<p>The first whiff is the invocation, the last the benediction. When you +knock out the ashes you should feel conscious that you have done a good +deed, that the offering has not been made in vain.</p> + +<p>Slave! Still that odious word? Well, have it your own way. Worshipers at +every shrine have been thus persecuted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1250" id="Page_1250">[Pg 1250]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>HE AND SHE</h2> + +<h3>BY IRONQUILL</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I am dead you'll find it hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Said he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ever find another man<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What makes you think, as I suppose<br /></span> +<span class="i4">You do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd ever want another man<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like you?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1251" id="Page_1251">[Pg 1251]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE NOTARY OF PERIGUEUX</h2> + +<h3>BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Do not trust thy body with a physician. He'll make thy foolish +bones go without flesh in a fortnight, and thy soul walk without a +body a sennight after.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"><span class="smcap">Shirley.</span></p></div> + + +<p>You must know, gentlemen, that there lived some years ago, in the city +of Périgueux, an honest notary-public, the descendant of a very ancient +and broken-down family, and the occupant of one of those old +weather-beaten tenements which remind you of the times of your +great-grandfather. He was a man of an unoffending, quiet disposition; +the father of a family, though not the head of it,—for in that family +"the hen over-crowed the cock," and the neighbors, when they spake of +the notary, shrugged their shoulders, and exclaimed, "Poor fellow! his +spurs want sharpening." In fine,—you understand me, gentlemen,—he was +hen-pecked.</p> + +<p>Well, finding no peace at home, he sought it elsewhere, as was very +natural for him to do; and at length discovered a place of rest, far +beyond the cares and clamors of domestic life. This was a little <i>Café +Estaminet</i>, a short way out of the city, whither he repaired every +evening to smoke his pipe, drink sugar-water, and play his favorite game +of domino. There he met the boon companions he most loved; heard all the +floating chitchat of the day; laughed when he was in merry mood; found +consolation when he was sad; and at all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1252" id="Page_1252">[Pg 1252]</a></span> times gave vent to his +opinions, without fear of being snubbed short by a flat contradiction.</p> + +<p>Now, the notary's bosom-friend was a dealer in claret and cognac, who +lived about a league from the city, and always passed his evenings at +the <i>Estaminet</i>. He was a gross, corpulent fellow, raised from a +full-blooded Gascon breed, and sired by a comic actor of some reputation +in his way. He was remarkable for nothing but his good-humor, his love +of cards, and a strong propensity to test the quality of his own liquors +by comparing them with those sold at other places.</p> + +<p>As evil communications corrupt good manners, the bad practices of the +wine-dealer won insensibly upon the worthy notary; and before he was +aware of it, he found himself weaned from domino and sugar-water, and +addicted to piquet and spiced wine. Indeed, it not unfrequently +happened, that, after a long session at the <i>Estaminet</i>, the two friends +grew so urbane that they would waste a full half-hour at the door in +friendly dispute which should conduct the other home.</p> + +<p>Though this course of life agreed well enough with the sluggish, +phlegmatic temperament of the wine-dealer, it soon began to play the +very deuse with the more sensitive organization of the notary, and +finally put his nervous system completely out of tune. He lost his +appetite, became gaunt and haggard, and could get no sleep. Legions of +blue-devils haunted him by day, and by night strange faces peeped +through his bed-curtains, and the nightmare snorted in his ear. The +worse he grew, the more he smoked and tippled; and the more he smoked +and tippled,—why, as a matter of course, the worse he grew. His wife +alternately stormed, remonstrated, entreated; but all in vain. She made +the house too hot for him,—he retreated to the tavern; she broke his +long-stemmed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1253" id="Page_1253">[Pg 1253]</a></span> pipes upon the andirons,—he substituted a short-stemmed +one, which, for safe-keeping, he carried in his waistcoat-pocket.</p> + +<p>Thus the unhappy notary ran gradually down at the heel. What with his +bad habits and his domestic grievances, he became completely hipped. He +imagined that he was going to die; and suffered in quick succession all +the diseases that ever beset mortal man. Every shooting pain was an +alarming symptom,—every uneasy feeling after dinner a sure prognostic +of some mortal disease. In vain did his friends endeavor to reason, and +then to laugh him out of his strange whims; for when did ever jest or +reason cure a sick imagination? His only answer was, "Do let me alone; I +know better than you what ails me."</p> + +<p>Well, gentlemen, things were in this state, when, one afternoon in +December, as he sat moping in his office, wrapped in an overcoat, with a +cap on his head and his feet thrust into a pair of furred slippers, a +cabriolet stopped at the door, and a loud knocking without aroused him +from his gloomy revery. It was a message from his friend the +wine-dealer, who had been suddenly attacked with a violent fever, and +growing worse and worse, had now sent in the greatest haste for the +notary to draw up his last will and testament. The case was urgent, and +admitted neither excuse nor delay; and the notary, tying a handkerchief +round his face, and buttoning up to the chin, jumped into the cabriolet, +and suffered himself, though not without some dismal presentiments and +misgivings of heart, to be driven to the wine-dealer's house.</p> + +<p>When he arrived, he found everything in the greatest confusion. On +entering the house, he ran against the apothecary, who was coming down +stairs, with a face as long as your arm; and a few steps farther he met +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1254" id="Page_1254">[Pg 1254]</a></span> housekeeper—for the wine-dealer was an old bachelor—running up +and down, and wringing her hands, for fear that the good man should die +without making his will. He soon reached the chamber of his sick friend, +and found him tossing about in a paroxysm of fever, and calling aloud +for a draught of cold water. The notary shook his head; he thought this +a fatal symptom; for ten years back the wine-dealer had been suffering +under a species of hydrophobia, which seemed suddenly to have left him.</p> + +<p>When the sick man saw who stood by his bedside, he stretched out his +hand and exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"Ah! my dear friend! have you come at last? You see it is all over with +me. You have arrived just in time to draw up that—that passport of +mine. Ah, <i>grand diable</i>! how hot it is here! Water,—water,—water! +Will nobody give me a drop of cold water?"</p> + +<p>As the case was an urgent one, the notary made no delay in getting his +papers in readiness; and in a short time the last will and testament of +the wine-dealer was drawn up in due form, the notary guiding the sick +man's hand as he scrawled his signature at the bottom.</p> + +<p>As the evening wore away, the wine-dealer grew worse and worse, and at +length became delirious, mingling in his incoherent ravings the phrases +of the Credo and Paternoster with the shibboleth of the dram-shop and +the card-table.</p> + +<p>"Take care! take care! There, now—<i>Credo in</i>—Pop! ting-a-ling-ling! +give me some of that. Cent-é-dize! Why, you old publican, this +wine is poisoned,—I know your tricks!—<i>Sanctam ecclesiam +catholicam</i>—Well, well, we shall see. Imbecile! to have a +tierce-major and a seven of hearts, and discard the seven! By St. +Anthony, capot! You are lurched,—ha! ha! I told you so. I knew +very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1255" id="Page_1255">[Pg 1255]</a></span> well,—there,—there,—don't interrupt me—<i>Carnis resurrectionem +et vitam eternam</i>!"</p> + +<p>With these words upon his lips, the poor wine-dealer expired. Meanwhile +the notary sat cowering over the fire, aghast at the fearful scene that +was passing before him, and now and then striving to keep up his courage +by a glass of cognac. Already his fears were on the alert; and the idea +of contagion flitted to and fro through his mind. In order to quiet +these thoughts of evil import, he lighted his pipe and began to prepare +for returning home. At that moment the apothecary turned round to him +and said,—</p> + +<p>"Dreadful sickly time, this! The disorder seems to be spreading."</p> + +<p>"What disorder?" exclaimed the notary, with a movement of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Two died yesterday, and three to-day," continued the apothecary, +without answering the question. "Very sickly time, sir,—very."</p> + +<p>"But what disorder is it? What disease has carried off my friend here so +suddenly?"</p> + +<p>"What disease? Why, scarlet fever, to be sure."</p> + +<p>"And is it contagious?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly!"</p> + +<p>"Then I am a dead man!" exclaimed the notary, putting his pipe into his +waistcoat-pocket, and beginning to walk up and down the room in despair. +"I am a dead man! Now don't deceive me,—don't, will you? What—what are +the symptoms?"</p> + +<p>"A sharp, burning pain in the right side," said the apothecary.</p> + +<p>"O, what a fool I was to come here!"</p> + +<p>In vain did the housekeeper and the apothecary strive to pacify him;—he +was not a man to be reasoned with;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1256" id="Page_1256">[Pg 1256]</a></span> he answered that he knew his own +constitution better than they did, and insisted upon going home without +delay. Unfortunately, the vehicle he came in had returned to the city, +and the whole neighborhood was abed and asleep. What was to be done? +Nothing in the world but to take the apothecary's horse, which stood +hitched at the door, patiently waiting his master's will.</p> + +<p>Well, gentlemen, as there was no remedy, our notary mounted this +raw-boned steed and set forth upon his homeward journey. The night was +cold and gusty, and the wind right in his teeth. Overhead the leaden +clouds were beating to and fro, and through them the newly-risen moon +seemed to be tossing and drifting along like a cock-boat in the surf; +now swallowed up in a huge billow of cloud, and now lifted upon its +bosom and dashed with silvery spray. The trees by the road-side groaned +with a sound of evil omen; and before him lay three mortal miles, beset +with a thousand imaginary perils. Obedient to the whip and spur, the +steed leaped forward by fits and starts, now dashing away in a +tremendous gallop, and now relaxing into a long, hard trot; while the +rider, filled with symptoms of disease and dire presentiments of death, +urged him on, as if he were fleeing before the pestilence.</p> + +<p>In this way, by dint of whistling and shouting, and beating right and +left, one mile of the fatal three was safely passed. The apprehensions +of the notary had so far subsided, that he even suffered the poor horse +to walk up hill; but these apprehensions were suddenly revived again +with tenfold violence by a sharp pain in the right side, which seemed to +pierce him like a needle.</p> + +<p>"It is upon me at last!" groaned the fear-stricken man. "Heaven be +merciful to me, the greatest of sinners! And must I die in a ditch, +after all? He! get up,—get up!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1257" id="Page_1257">[Pg 1257]</a></span></p> + +<p>And away went horse and rider at full speed,—hurry-scurry,—up hill and +down,—panting and blowing like a whirlwind. At every leap the pain in +the rider's side seemed to increase. At first it was a little point like +the prick of a needle,—then it spread to the size of a half-franc +piece,—then covered a place as large as the palm of your hand. It +gained upon him fast. The poor man groaned aloud in agony; faster and +faster sped the horse over the frozen ground,—farther and farther +spread the pain over his side. To complete the dismal picture the storm +commenced,—snow mingled with rain. But snow, and rain, and cold were +naught to him; for, though his arms and legs were frozen to icicles, he +felt it not; the fatal symptom was upon him; he was doomed to die,—not +of cold, but of scarlet fever!</p> + +<p>At length, he knew not how, more dead than alive, he reached the gate of +the city. A band of ill-bred dogs, that were serenading at a corner of +the street, seeing the notary dash by, joined in the hue and cry, and +ran barking and yelping at his heels. It was now late at night, and only +here and there a solitary lamp twinkled from an upper story. But on went +the notary, down this street and up that, till at last he reached his +own door. There was a light in his wife's bedroom. The good woman came +to the window, alarmed at such a knocking, and howling, and clattering +at her door so late at night; and the notary was too deeply absorbed in +his own sorrows to observe that the lamp cast the shadow of two heads on +the window-curtain.</p> + +<p>"Let me in! let me in! Quick! quick!" he exclaimed, almost breathless +from terror and fatigue.</p> + +<p>"Who are you, that come to disturb a lone woman at this hour of the +night?" cried a sharp voice from above. "Begone about your business, and +let quiet people sleep."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1258" id="Page_1258">[Pg 1258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come down and let me in! I am your husband! Don't you know my voice? +Quick, I beseech you; for I am dying here in the street!"</p> + +<p>After a few moments of delay and a few more words of parley, the door +was opened, and the notary stalked into his domicile, pale and haggard +in aspect, and as stiff and straight as a ghost. Cased from head to heel +in an armor of ice, as the glare of the lamp fell upon him, he looked +like a knight-errant mailed in steel. But in one place his armor was +broken. On his right side was a circular spot, as large as the crown of +your hat, and about as black!</p> + +<p>"My dear wife!" he exclaimed with more tenderness than he had exhibited +for many years, "Reach me a chair. My hours are numbered. I am a dead +man!"</p> + +<p>Alarmed at these exclamations, his wife stripped off his overcoat. +Something fell from beneath it, and was dashed to pieces on the hearth. +It was the notary's pipe! He placed his hand upon his side, and, lo! it +was bare to the skin! Coat, waistcoat, and linen were burnt through and +through, and there was a blister on his side as large as your hand!</p> + +<p>The mystery was soon explained, symptom and all. The notary had put his +pipe into his pocket without knocking out the ashes! And so my story +ends.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Is that all?" asked the radical, when the story-teller had finished.</p> + +<p>"That is all."</p> + +<p>"Well, what does your story prove?"</p> + +<p>"That is more than I can tell. All I know is that the story is true."</p> + +<p>"And did he die?" said the nice little man in gosling-green.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1259" id="Page_1259">[Pg 1259]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; he died afterwards," replied the story-teller, rather annoyed by +the question.</p> + +<p>"And what did he die of?" continued gosling-green, following him up.</p> + +<p>"What did he die of? why, he died—of a sudden!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1260" id="Page_1260">[Pg 1260]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>HOLLY SONG</h2> + +<h3>BY CLINTON SCOLLARD</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Care is but a broken bubble,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trill the carol, troll the catch;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sooth, we'll cry, "A truce to trouble!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mirth and mistletoe shall match.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i4">Happy folly! we'll be jolly!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Who'd be melancholy now?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a "Hey, the holly! Ho, the holly!"<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Polly hangs the holly bough.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Laughter lurking in the eye, sir,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pleasure foots it frisk and free.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He who frowns or looks awry, sir,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Faith, a witless wight is he!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i4">Merry folly! what a volley<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Greets the hanging of the bough!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a "Hey, the holly! Ho, the holly!"<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Who'd be melancholy now?<br /></span></div> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1261" id="Page_1261">[Pg 1261]</a></span></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONGS WITHOUT WORDS</h2> + +<h3>BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I can not sing the old songs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though well I know the tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Familiar as a cradle song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With sleep-compelling croon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet though I'm filled with music<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As choirs of summer birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I can not sing the old songs"—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I do not know the words.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I start on "Hail Columbia,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And get to "heav'n-born band,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there I strike an up-grade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With neither steam nor sand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Star Spangled Banner" downs me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Right in my wildest screaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I start all right, but dumbly come<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To voiceless wreck at "streaming."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, when I sing the old songs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Don't murmur or complain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If "Ti, diddy ah da, tum dum,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should fill the sweetest strain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love "Tolly um dum di do,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the "trilla-la yeep da"-birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But "I can not sing the old songs"—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I do not know the words.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1262" id="Page_1262">[Pg 1262]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TRIOLETS</h2> + +<h3>BY C.W.M.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She threw me a kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But why did she throw it?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What grieves me is this—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She threw me a kiss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, what chances we miss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If we only could know it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She threw me a kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But why did she throw it!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Any girl might have known<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I stood there so near!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we two all alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Any girl might have known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she needn't have thrown!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But then girls are so queer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Any girl might have known,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I stood there so near!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1263" id="Page_1263">[Pg 1263]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>WHAT SHE SAID ABOUT IT</h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN PAUL</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lyrics to Inez and Jane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dolores and Ethel and May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Señoritas distant as Spain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And damsels just over the way!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is not that I'm jealous, nor that,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of either Dolores or Jane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some girl in an opposite flat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or in one of his castles in Spain,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But it is that salable prose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Put aside for this profitless strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sit the day darning his hose—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he sings of Dolores and Jane.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though the winged-horse must caracole free—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the pretty, when "spurning the plain,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should the team-work fall wholly on me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While he soars with Dolores and Jane?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>I</i> am neither Dolores nor Jane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But to lighten a little my life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might the Poet not spare me a strain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Although I am only his wife!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1264" id="Page_1264">[Pg 1264]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>AN EDUCATIONAL PROJECT</h2> + +<h3>BY ROY FARRELL GREENE</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since schools to teach one this or that<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are being started every day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have the plan, a notion pat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of one which I am sure would pay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twould be a venture strictly new,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No shaking up of dusty bones;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How does the scheme appeal to you?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A regular school for chaperones!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One course would be to dull the ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And one would be to dim the eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So whispered love they'd never hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And glance coquettish never spy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'd be taught somnolence, and how<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ofttimes closed eye for sleep atones;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I a million, I'd endow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A regular school for chaperones!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's crying need in West and East<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For graduates, and not a source<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Supplying it. Some one at least<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should start a correspondence course;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But joy will scarce o'errun the cup<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of maidenhood, my candor owns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till some skilled Mentor opens up<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A regular school for chaperones!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1265" id="Page_1265">[Pg 1265]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE CAMP-MEETING</h2> + +<h3>BY BAYNARD RUST HALL</h3> + + +<p>The camp was furnished with several stands for preaching, exhorting, +jumping and jerking; but still one place was the pulpit, above all +others. This was a large scaffold, secured between two noble sugar +trees, and railed in to prevent from falling over in a swoon, or +springing over in an ecstasy; its cover the dense foliage of the trees, +whose trunks formed the graceful and massive columns. Here was said to +be also the <i>altar</i>, but I could not see its <i>horns</i> or any <i>sacrifice</i>; +and the pen, which I <i>did</i> see—a place full of clean straw, where were +put into fold stray sheep willing to return. It was at this pulpit, with +its altar and pen, the regular preaching was done; around here the +congregation assembled; hence orders were issued; here, happened the +hardest fights, and were gained the greatest victories, being the spot +where it was understood Satan fought in person; and here could be seen +gestures the most frantic, and heard noises the most unimaginable, and +often the most appalling. It was the place, in short, where most crowded +either with praiseworthy intentions of getting some religion, or with +unholy purposes of being amused; we, of course, designing neither one +nor the other, but only to see philosophically and make up an opinion. +At every grand outcry a simultaneous rush would, however, take place +from all parts of the camp, proper and improper, towards the pulpit, +altar, and pen; till the crowding, by increasing the suffocation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1266" id="Page_1266">[Pg 1266]</a></span> and +the fainting, would increase the tumult and the uproar; but this, in the +estimation of many devotees, only rendered the meeting more lively and +interesting.</p> + +<p>By considering what was done at this central station one may approximate +the amount of spiritual labor done in a day, and then a week in the +whole camp:</p> + +<p>1. About day-break on Sabbath a horn <i>blasted</i> us up for public prayer +and exhortation, the exercises continuing nearly two hours.</p> + +<p>2. Before breakfast, another blast for family and private prayer; and +then every tent became, in camp language, "a bethel of struggling Jacobs +and prevailing Israels," every tree "an altar;" and every grove "a +secret closet;" till the air all became religious words and phrases, and +vocal with "Amens."</p> + +<p>3. After a proper interval came a horn for the forenoon service; then +was delivered the sermon, and that followed by an appendix of some half +dozen exhortations let off right and left, and even <i>behind</i> the pulpit, +that all might have a portion in due season.</p> + +<p>4. We had private and secret prayer again before dinner;—some +clambering into thick trees to be hid, but forgetting in their +simplicity, that they were heard and betrayed. But religious devotion +excuses all errors and mistakes.</p> + +<p>5. The afternoon sermon with its bob-tail string of exhortations.</p> + +<p>6. Private and family prayer about tea time.</p> + +<p>7. But lastly, we had what was termed "a precious season," in the third +regular service at the <i>principia</i> of the camp. This season began not +long after tea and was kept up long after I left the ground; which was +about midnight. And now sermon after sermon and exhortation after +exhortation followed like shallow, foaming,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1267" id="Page_1267">[Pg 1267]</a></span> roaring waters; till the +speakers were exhausted and the assembly became an uneasy and billowy +mass, now hushing to a sobbing quiescence, and now rousing by the groans +of sinners and the triumphant cries of folks that had "jist got +religion"; and then again subsiding to a buzzy state, occasioned by the +whimpering and whining voices of persons giving spiritual advice and +comfort! How like a volcanic crater after the evomition of its lava in a +fit of burning cholic, and striving to resettle its angry and +tumultuating stomach!</p> + +<p>It is time, however, to speak of the three grand services and their +concomitants, and to introduce several master spirits of the camp.</p> + +<p>Our first character, is the Reverend Elder Sprightly. This gentleman was +of good natural parts; and in a better school of intellectual discipline +and more fortunate circumstances, he must have become a worthy minister +of some more tasteful, literary and evangelical sect. As it was, he had +only become what he never got beyond—"a very smart man;" and his aim +had become one—to enlarge his own people. And in this work, so great +was his success, that, to use his own modest boastfulness in his sermon +to-day,—"although folks said when he came to the Purchase that a single +corn-crib would hold his people, yet, bless the Lord, they had kept +spreading and spreading till all the corn-cribs in Egypt weren't big +enough to hold them!"</p> + +<p>He was very happy at repartee, as Robert Dale Owen well knows; and not +"slow" (inexpert) in the arts of "taking off"—and—"giving them their +own." This trait we shall illustrate by an instance.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sprightly was, by accident, once present where a Campbellite +Baptist, that had recently taken out a right for administering six doses +of lobelia, red pepper and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1268" id="Page_1268">[Pg 1268]</a></span> steam to men's bodies, and a plunge into +cold water for the good of their souls, was holding forth against all +Doctors, secular and sacred, and very fiercely against Sprightly's +brotherhood. Doctor Lobelia's text was found somewhere in Pope +Campbell's <i>New</i> Testament; as it suited the following discourse +introduced with the usual inspired preface:</p> + + +<h3>DOCTOR LOBELIA'S SERMON</h3> + +<p>"Well, I never rub'd my back agin a collige, nor git no sheepskin, and +allow the Apostuls didn't nither. Did anybody ever hear of Peter and +Poll a-goin' to them new-fangled places and gitten skins to preach by? +No, sirs, I allow not; no, sirs, we don't pretend to loguk—this here +<i>new</i> testament's sheepskin enough for me. And don't Prisbeteruns and +tother baby sprinklurs have reskorse to loguk and skins to show how them +what's emerz'd didn't go down into the water and come up agin? And as to +Sprightly's preachurs, don't they dress like big-bugs, and go ridin +about the Purchis on hunder-dollur hossis, a-spunginin on poor +priest-riden folks and a-eatin fried chickin fixins so powerful fast +that chickins has got skerse in these diggins; and then what ain't fried +makes tracks and hides when they sees them a-comin?</p> + +<p>"But, dear bruthrun, we don't want store cloth and yaller buttins, and +fat hossis and chickin fixins, and the like doins—no, sirs! we only +wants your souls—we only wants beleevur's baptism—we wants +prim—prim—yes, Apostul's Christianity, the Christianity of Christ and +them times, when Christians <i>was</i> Christians, and tuk up thare cross and +went down into the water, and was buried in the gineine sort of baptism +by emerzhin. That's all we wants; and I hope all's convinced that's the +true way—and so let all come right out from among them and git<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1269" id="Page_1269">[Pg 1269]</a></span> +beleevur's baptism; and so now if any brothur wants to say a word I'm +done, and I'll make way for him to preach."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Anticipating this common invitation, our friend Sprightly, indignant at +this unprovoked attack of Doctor Lobelia, had, in order to disguise +himself, exchanged his clerical garb for a friend's blue coatee +bedizzened with metal buttons; and also had erected a very tasteful and +sharp coxcomb on his head, out of hair usually reposing sleek and quiet +in the most saint-like decorum; and then, at the bid from the +pulpit-stump, out stepped Mr. Sprightly from the opposite spice-wood +grove, and advanced with a step so smirky and dandyish as to create +universal amazement and whispered demands—"Why! who's that?" And some +of his very people, who were present, as they told me, did not know +their preacher till his clear, sharp voice came upon the hearing, when +they showed, by the sudden lifting of hands and eyebrows, how near they +were to exclaiming: "Well! I never!"</p> + +<p>Stepping on to the consecrated stump, our friend, without either +preliminary hymn or prayer, commenced thus:</p> + +<p>"My friends, I only intend to say a few words in answer to the pious +brother that's just sat down, and shall not detain but a few minutes. +The pious brother took a good deal of time to tell what we soon found +out ourselves—that he never went to college and don't understand logic. +He boasts, too, of having no sheepskin to preach by; but I allow any +sensible buck-sheep would have died powerful sorry, if he'd ever thought +his hide would come to be handled by some preachers. The skin of the +knowingest old buck couldn't do some folks any good—some things salt +won't save.</p> + +<p>"I rather allow Johnny Calvin's boys and 'tother baby<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1270" id="Page_1270">[Pg 1270]</a></span> sprinklers,' +ain't likely to have they idees physicked out of them by steam logic, +and doses of No. 6. They can't be steamed up so high as to want cooling +by a cold water plunge. But I want to say a word about Sprightly's +preachers, because I have some slight acquaintance with that there +gentleman, and don't choose to have them all run down for nothing.</p> + +<p>"The pious brother brings several grave charges; first, they ride good +horses. Now don't every man, woman and child in the Purchase know that +Sprightly and his preachers have hardly any home, and that they live on +horseback? The money most folks spend in land these men spend for a good +horse; and don't they <i>need</i> a good horse to stand mud and swim floods? +And is it any sin for a horse to be kept fat that does so much work? The +book says 'a merciful man is merciful to his beast,' and that we mustn't +'muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn.' Step round that fence +corner, and take a peep, dear friends, at a horse hung on the stake; +what's he like? A wooden frame with a dry hide stretched over it. What's +he live on? Ay! that's the pint! Well, what's them buzzards after?—look +at them sailing up there. Now who owns that live carrion?—the pious +brother that's just preached to us just now. And I want to know if it +wouldn't be better for him to give that dumb brute something to cover +his bones, before he talks against 'hunder-dollur hossis' and the like?</p> + +<p>"The next charge is, wearing good clothes. Friends, don't all folks when +they come to meeting put on their best clothes? and wouldn't it be wrong +if preachers came in old torn coats and dirty shirts? It wouldn't do no +how. Well, Sprightly and his preachers preach near about every day; and +oughtn't they always to look decent? Take, then, a peep at the pious +brother that makes this charge;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1271" id="Page_1271">[Pg 1271]</a></span> his coat is out at the elbow, and has +only three or four buttons left, and his arm, where he wipes his nose +and mouth, is shiny as a looking glass—his trousers are crawling up to +show he's got no stockings on; and his face has got a crop of beard two +weeks old and couldn't be cleaned by 'baby sprinklin''; yes, look at +them there matters, and say if Sprightly's preachers ain't more like the +apostles in decency than the pious brother is.</p> + +<p>"A word now about chickin-fixins and doins. And I say it would be a +charity to give the pious brother sich a feed now and then, for he looks +half-starved, and savage as a meat-ax; and I advise that old hen out +thare clucking up her brood not to come this way just now, if she don't +want all to disappear. But I say that Sprightly's preachers are so much +beliked in the Purchase, that folks are always glad to see them, and +make a pint of giving them the best out of love; an' that's more than +can be said for some folks here.</p> + +<p>"The pious brother says he only wants our souls—then what makes him +peddle about Thomsonian physic? Why don't he and Campbell make steam and +No. 6 as free as preaching? I read of a quack doctor once, who used to +give his advice free gratis for nothing to any one what would <i>buy</i> a +box of his pills—but as I see the pious brother is crawling round the +fence to his anatomical horse and physical saddle-bags, I have nothing +to say, and so, dear friends, I bid you all good-by."</p> + +<p>Such was Rev. Elder Sprightly, who preached to us on Sabbath morning at +the Camp. Hence, it is not remarkable that in common with many worthy +persons, he should think his talents properly employed in using up +"Johnny Calvin and his boys," especially as no subject is better for +popularity at a camp-meeting. He gave us, accordingly, first, that +affecting story of Calvin and Ser<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1272" id="Page_1272">[Pg 1272]</a></span>vetus, in which the latter figured +to-day like a Christian Confessor and martyr, and the former as a +diabolical persecutor; many moving incidents being introduced not found +in history, and many ingenious inferences and suppositions tending to +blacken the Reformer's character. Judging from the frequency of the deep +groans, loud amens, and noisy hallelujahs of the congregation during the +narrative, had Calvin suddenly thrust in among us his hatchet face and +goat's beard, he would have been hissed and pelted, nay possibly been +lynched and soused in the branch; while the excellent Servetus would +have been <i>toted</i> on our shoulders, and feasted in the tents on fried +ham, cold chicken fixins and horse sorrel pies!</p> + +<p>Here is a specimen of Mr. S.'s mode of exciting triumphant exclamation, +amens, groans, etc., against Calvin and his followers: "Dear sisters, +don't you love the tender little darling babes that hang on your +parental bosoms? (amen!)—Yes! I know you do—(amen! amen!)—Yes, I +know, I know it.—(Amen, amen! hallelujah!) Now don't it make your +parental hearts throb with anguish to think those dear infantile +darlings might some day be out burning brush and fall into the flames +and be burned to death! (deep groans.)—Yes, it does, it does! But oh! +sisters, oh! mothers! how can you think your babes mightn't get religion +and die and be burned for ever and ever? (O! forbid—amen—groans.) But, +oho! only think—only think, oh! would you ever a had them darling +infantile sucklings born, if you had a known they were to be burned in a +brush heap! (No, no!—groans—shrieks.) What! what! <i>what!</i> if you had +<i>foreknown</i> they must have gone to hell?—(hoho! hoho—amen!) And does +anybody think He is such a tyrant as to make spotless, innocent babies +just to damn them? (No! in a voice of thunder.)—No! sisters! no! no! +mothers! No! <i>no!</i> sin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1273" id="Page_1273">[Pg 1273]</a></span>ners, <i>no!!</i>—He ain't such a tyrant! +Let John Calvin burn, torture and roast, but He never foreordained +babies, as Calvin says, to damnation! (damnation!—echoed by +hundreds.)—Hallelujah! 'tis a free salvation! Glory! a free +salvation!—(Here Mr. S. battered the rail of the pulpit with his fists, +and kicked the bottom with his feet—many screamed—some cried +amen!—others groaned and hissed—and more than a dozen females of two +opposite colors arose and clapped their hands as if engaged in +starching, etc., etc.) No-h-o! <i>'tis</i> a free, a free, a <i>free</i> +salvation!—away with Calvin! 'tis for all! <i>all!</i> <span class="smcap">all</span>! Yes! shout it +out! clap on! rejoice! rejoice! oho-oho! sinners, sinners, sinners, +oh-ho-oho!" etc., etc.</p> + +<p>Here was maintained for some minutes the most edifying uproar of +shouting, bellowing, crying, clapping and stamping, mingled with +hysterical laughing, termed out there "holy laughing," and even dancing! +and barking! called also "holy!"—till, at the partial subsidence of the +bedlam, the orator resumed his eloquence.</p> + +<p>It is singular Mr. S. overlooked an objection to the divine Providence +arising from his own illustration. That children do sometimes perish by +being burnt and drowned, is undeniable; yet is not their existence +prevented—and that in the very case where the sisters were induced to +say <i>they</i> would have prevented their existence! But, in justice to Mr. +S., we must say that he seemed to have anticipated the objection, and to +have furnished the reply; for, said he, in one part of his discourse, +"God did not <i>wish</i> to foreknow <i>some</i> things!"</p> + +<p>But our friend's mode of avoiding a predestined death—if such an +absurdity be supposed—deserves all praise for the facility and +simplicity of the contrivance. "Let us," said he, "for argument's sake, +grant that I, the Rev. Elder Sprightly, am foreordained to be drowned, +in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1274" id="Page_1274">[Pg 1274]</a></span> river, at Smith's Ferry, next Thursday morning, at twenty-two +minutes after ten o'clock; and suppose I know it; and suppose I am a +free, moral, voluntary, accountable agent, as Calvinists say—do you +think I'm going to be drowned? No!—I would stay at home all day; and +you'll never ketch the Rev. Elder Sprightly at Smith's Ferry—nor near +the river neither!"</p> + +<p>Reader, is it any wonder Calvinism is on the decline? Logic it <i>can</i> +stand; but human nature thus excited in opposition, it can not stand. +Hence, throughout our vast assembly to-day, this unpopular <i>ism</i>, in +spite of Calvin and the Epistle to the Romans, was put down; if not by +acclamation, yet by exclamation—by shouting—by roaring—by groaning +and hissing—by clapping and stamping—by laughing, and crying, and +whining; and thus the end of the sermon was gained and the <i>preacher</i> +glorified!</p> + +<p>The introductory discourse in the afternoon was by the Rev. Remarkable +Novus. This was a gentleman I had often the pleasure of entertaining at +my house in Woodville; and he <i>was</i> a Christian in sentiment and +feeling; for though properly and decidedly a warm friend to his own +sect, he was charitably disposed toward myself and others that differed +from him ecclesiastically. His talents were moderate; but his voice was +transcendently excellent. It was rich, deep, mellow, liquid and +sonorous, and capable of any inflections. It could preserve its melody +in an unruffled flow, at a pitch far beyond the highest point reached by +the best-cultivated voice. His fancy naturally capricious, was indulged +without restraint; yet not being a learned or well-read man, he mistook +words for ideas, and hence employed without stint all the terms in his +vocabulary for the commonest thoughts. He believed, too, like most of +his brotherhood, that excitement and agitation were necessary to +conversion and of the essence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1275" id="Page_1275">[Pg 1275]</a></span> of religion; and this, with a proneness +to delight in the music and witchery of his own wonderful voice, made +Mr. Novus an eccentric preacher, and induced him often to excel at +camp-meetings, the very extravagances of his clerical brethren, whom +more than once he has ridiculed and condemned at my fireside.</p> + +<p>The camp-meeting was, in fact, too great a temptation for my friend's +temperament, and the very theater for the full display of his +magnificent voice; and naturally, this afternoon, off he set at a +tangent, interrupting the current of his sermon by extemporaneous bursts +of warning, entreaty and exhortation. Here is something like his +discourse—yet done by me in a <i>subdued tone</i>—as, I repeat, are most +extravaganzas of the ecclesiastical and spiritual sort, not only here, +but in all other parts of the work.</p> + +<p>"My text, dear hearers," said he, "on this auspicious, and solemn, and +heaven-ordered occasion, is that exhortation of the inspired apostle, +'Walk worthy of your vocation.'</p> + +<p>"And what, my dear brethren, what do you imagine and conjecture our holy +penman meant by 'walking?' Think ye he meant a physical walking, and a +moving, and a going backward and forward thus? (represented by Mr. N.'s +proceeding, or rather marching, <i>à la militaire</i>, several times from end +to end of the staging). No, sirs!—it was not a literal walking and +locomotion, a moving and agitating of the natural legs and limbs. No, +sirs!—no!—but it was a moral, a spiritual, a religious, ay! yes! a +philosophical and metaphorically figurative walking, our holy apostle +meant!</p> + +<p>"Philosophic, did I say? Yes: philosophic <i>did</i> I say. For religion is +the most philosophical thing in the universe—ay! throughout the whole +expansive infinitude of the divine empire. Tell me, deluded infidels and +mistaken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1276" id="Page_1276">[Pg 1276]</a></span> unbelievers! tell me, ain't philosophy what's according to the +consistency of nature's regular laws? and what's more onsentaneous and +homogeneous to man's sublimated moral nature, than religion? Yes! tell +me! Yes! yes! I am for a philosophical religion, and a philosophical +religion is for <i>me</i>—ay! we are mutually made and formed for this +beautiful reciprocality!</p> + +<p>"And yet some say we make too much noise—even some of our respected +Woodville merchants—(meaning the author). But what's worth making a +noise about in the dark mundane of our terrestrial sphere, if religion +ain't? People always, and everywhere in all places, make most noise +about what they opine to be most precious. See! yon banner streaming +with golden stars and glorious stripes over congregated troops, on the +Fourth of July, that ever-memorable—that never-to-be-<i>forgotten</i> day, +which celebrates the grand annual anniversary of our nation's liberty +and independence! when our forefathers and ancestors burst asunder and +tore forever off the iron chains of political thraldom! and rose in +plenitude, ay! in the magnificence of their grandeur, and crushed their +oppressors!—yes! and hurled down dark despotism from the lofty pinnacle +of its summit altitude, where she was seated on her liberty-crushing +throne, and hurled her out of her iron chariot, as her wheels thundered +over the prostrate slaves of power!—(Amen)—Yes!—hark!—we make a +noise about that! But what's civil liberty to religious liberty, and +emancipated disenthraldom from the dark despotism of yonder terrific +prince of darkness! whose broad, black, piniony wings spread wide o'er +the ærial concave like a dense cloud upon a murky sky?—(A-a-men!)—And +ain't it, ye men of yards and measures, philosophical to make a noise +about this?—(Amen!—yes!) Yes! <i>yes!</i> and I ain't ashamed to rejoice +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1277" id="Page_1277">[Pg 1277]</a></span> shout aloud. Ay! as long as the prophet was ordered to stamp with +his foot, I will stamp with my foot;—(here he stamped till the platform +trembled for its safety)—and to smite with his hand, I will <i>smite</i> +with my hand—(slapping alternate hands on alternate thighs.)—Yes! and +I will shout, too!—and cry aloud, and spare not—glory! +for—ever!—(and here his voice rang out like the sweet, clear tones of +a bugle).</p> + +<p>"And, therefore, my dear sisters and brethren, let us walk worthy of our +vocation; not with the natural legs of the physical corporation, but in +the apostolical way, with the metaphysical and figurative legs of the +mind—(here Mr. N. caught some one smiling).—Take care, sinner, take +care! curl not the scornful nose—I'm willing to be a fool for +religion's sake—but turn not up the scornful nose—do its ministers no +harm! Sinner, mark me!—in yon deep and tangled grove, where tall, +aspiring trees wave green and lofty heads in the free air of balmy +skies—there sinner, an hour ago, when the sonorous horn called on our +embattled hosts to go to private prayer! an hour ago, in yonder grove I +knelt and prayed for you!—(hooh!)—yes! I prayed some poor soul might +be given for my hire!—and he promised me one!—(Glory! glory!—ah! give +him one!)—laughing sinner!—take care!—I'll have you!—(Grant +it—amen!—ooohoo!) Look out, I'm going to fire—(assuming the attitude +of rifle-shooting)—bang!—may He send that through your heart!—may it +pierce clean home through joints and marrow!—and let all people say +amen!—(and here amen <i>was</i> said, and not in the tame style of the +American Archbishop of Canterbury's cathedral, be assured; but whether +the spiritual bullet hit the chap aimed at, I never learned; if it did, +his groans were inaudible in the alarming thunder of that amen).</p> + +<p>"Ay! ay! that's the way! that's the way! don't be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1278" id="Page_1278">[Pg 1278]</a></span> ashamed of your +vocation—that's the way to walk and let your light shine! Now, some +wise folks despise light, and call for miracles: but when we can't have +one kind of light, let us be philosophical, and take another. For my +part, when I'm bogging about these dark woods, far away in the silent, +somber shadows, I rejoice in sunshine; and would prefer it of choice, +rather than all other celestial and translucent luminaries: but when the +gentle fanning zephyrs of the shadowy night breathe soft among the +trembling leaves and sprays of the darkening forests, then I rejoice in +moonshine: and when the moonshine dims and pales away, with the waning +silvery queen of heaven in her azure zone, I look up to the blue concave +of the circular vault, and rejoice in starlight. No! <i>no!</i> <span class="smcap">no</span>! any +light!—give us any light rather than <i>none</i>!—(Ah, do, good—!) Yes! +yes! we are the light of the world, and so let us let our light shine, +whether sunshine, or moonshine, or starlight!—(oohoo!)—and then the +poor benighted sinner, bogging about this terraqueous, but dark and +mundane sphere, will have a light like a pole star of the distant north, +to point and guide him to the sunlit climes of yonder world of bright +and blazing bliss!"—(A-a-amen!)</p> + +<p>Such is part of the sermon. His concluding prayer ended thus—(Divine +names omitted).</p> + +<p>"Oh, come down! come, come down! <i>down!</i> now!—to-night!—do wonders +then! come down in <i>might</i>! come down in <i>power</i>! let salvation <i>roll</i>! +<i>Come</i> down! <i>come!</i> and let the earthquaking mighty noise of thy +thundering chariot wheels be heard, and felt, and seen, and experienced +in the warring elements of our spiritualized hearts!"</p> + +<p>During the prayer, many petitions and expressions were so rapturously +and decidedly encored, that our friend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1279" id="Page_1279">[Pg 1279]</a></span> kindly repeated them; and +sometimes, like public singers, with handsome variations; and many +petitions by amateur zealots were put forth, without any notice of the +current prayer offered by Mr. N., yet evidently having in view some +elegancy of his sermon. And not a few petitions, I regret to say, seemed +to misapprehend the drift and scope of the preacher. One of this sort +was the earnest ejaculations of an old and worthy brother, who, in a +hollow, sepulchral, and rather growly voice, bellowed out in a very +beautiful part of the grand prayer: "Oohhoo! take away <i>moonshine</i>!"</p> + +<p>But our first performance was to be at night: and at the first <i>toot</i> of +the tin horn we assembled in expectation of a "good time." For, 1. All +day preparation had been making for the night; and the actors seemed +evidently in restraint, as in mere rehearsal: 2. The night better suits +displays and scenes of any kind: but 3. The African was to preach; and +rumor had said, "he was a most powerful big preacher, that could stir up +folks mighty quick, and use up the ole feller in less than no time."</p> + +<p>After prefatory prayers and hymns, and <i>pithy</i> exhortations by several +brothers of the Circassian breed, our dusky divine, the Rev. Mizraim +Ham, commenced his sermon, founded on the duel between David and +Goliath.</p> + +<p>This discourse we shall condense into a few pages; although the comedy +or <i>mellow</i>-drama—for it greatly mellowed and relaxed the +muscles—required for its entire action a full hour. There was, indeed, +a prologue, but the rest was mainly dialogue, in which Mr. Ham +wonderfully personated all the different speakers, varying his tone, +manner, attitude, etc., as varying characters and circumstances +demanded. We fear much of the spirit has evaporated in this +condensation; but that evil is unavoidable.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1280" id="Page_1280">[Pg 1280]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>REV. MIZRAIM HAM'S DISCOURSE</h3> + +<p>"Bruthurn and sisturn, tention, if you pleases, while I want you for to +understand this here battul most partiklur 'zact, or may be you +moughtn't comprend urn. Furst place, I gwyin to undevur to sarcumscribe +fust the 'cashin of this here battul: second place, the 'comdashins of +the armies: third place, the folkses as was gwyin for to fite and didn't +want to, and some did: and last and fourth place, I'm gwyin for to show +purtiklur 'zact them as fit juul, and git victry and git kill'd.</p> + +<p>"Tention, if you please, while I fustly sarcumscribe the 'casion of this +here battul. Bruthurn and sisturn, you see them thar hethun Fillystines, +what warn't circumcised, they wants to ketch King Sol and his 'ar folks +for to make um slave; and so, they cums down to pick a quorl, and begins +a-totin off all their cawn, and wouldn't 'low um to make no hoes to hoe +um, nor no homnee. And that 'ar, you see, stick in King Solsis gizurd; +and he ups and says, says he, 'I'm not gwying to be used up that 'ar +away by them uncircumcis'd hethun Fillystines, and let um tote off our +folkses cawn to chuck to thar hogs, and take away our hoes so we can't +hoe um—and so, Jonathun, we'll drum up and list soljurs and try um a +battul.' And then King Sol and his 'ar folks they goes up, and the +hethun and theirn comes down and makes war. And this is the 'cashin why +they fit.</p> + +<p>"Tention, 'gin, if you pleases, I'm gwyin in the next place secondly, to +show the 'comdashins of this here battul, which was so fashin like. The +Fillystines they had thar army up thar on a mounting, and King Sol he +had hissin over thar, like, across a branch, amoss like that a one +thar—(pointing)—and it was chuck full of sling rock all along on the +bottom. And so they was both on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1281" id="Page_1281">[Pg 1281]</a></span> um camp'd out; this a one on this 'ar +side, and tother a one on tother, and the lilly branch tween um—and +them's the 'comdashins.</p> + +<p>"Tention once more agin, as 'caze next place thirdly, I'm a gwyin to +give purtiklur 'zact 'count of sum folkses what fit and sum didn't want +to. And lubly sinnahs, maybe you minds um, as how King Sol and his +soljurs was pepper hot for fite when he fust liss um; but now, lubly +sinnahs, when they gits up to the Fillystines, they cool off mighty +quick, I tell you! 'Caze why? I tell you; why, 'caze a grate, big, ugly +ole jiunt, with grate big eyes, so fashin—(Mr. Ham made giant's eyes +here)—he kums a rampin' out a frount o' them 'ar rigiments, like the +ole devul a gwyin about like a half-starv'd lion a-seeking to devour +poor lubly sinnahs! And he cum a-jumpin and a-tearin out so +fashin—(actions to suit)—to git sum of King Solsis soljurs to fite urn +juul; and King Sol, lubly bruthurn and sisturn, he gits sker'd mighty +quick, and he says to Jonathun and tother big officers, says he, 'I +ain't a gwyin for to fite that grate big fellah.' And arter that they +ups and says, 'We ain't a gwying for to fite um nuther, 'caze he's all +kiver'd with sheetirun, and his head's up so high we muss stand a hoss +back to reach um!'—the jiunt he was <i>so big</i>!!</p> + +<p>"And then King Sol he quite down in the jaw, and he turn and ax if +somebody wouldn't hunt up a soljur as would fite juul with um; and he'd +give um his dawtah, the prinsuss, for wife, and make um king's +son-in-law. And then one old koretur, they call him Abnah, he comes up +and says to Sol so: 'Please, your majustee, sir, I kin git a young +fellah to fite um,' says he. And Abnah tells how Davy had jist rid up in +his carruge and left um with the man what tend the hossis—and how he +heern Davy a quorl'n with his bruthers and a wantun to fite the jiunt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1282" id="Page_1282">[Pg 1282]</a></span> +Then King Sol, he feel mighty glad, I tell you, sinnahs, and he make um +bring um up, and King Sol he begins a-talkin so, and Davy he answers +so:—</p> + +<p>"'What's your name, lilly fellah?'</p> + +<p>"'I was krissen'd Davy.'</p> + +<p>"'Who's your farder?'</p> + +<p>"'They call um Jesse.'</p> + +<p>"'What you follur for livin?'</p> + +<p>"'I 'tend my farder's sheep.'</p> + +<p>"'What you kum arter? Ain't you affeerd of that 'ar grate ugly ole jiunt +up thar, lilly Davy?'</p> + +<p>"'I kum to see arter my udder brudurs, and bring um in our carruge some +cheese and muttun, and some clene shirt and trowser, and have tother +ones wash'd. And when I cum I hear ole Golliawh a hollerin out for +somebody to cum and fite juul with um; and all the soljurs round thar +they begins for to make traks mighty quick, I tell you, please your +majuste, sir, for thar tents; but, says I, what you run for? I'm not +a-gwyin for to run away—if King Sol wants somebody for to fite the +jiunt, I'll fite um for um.'</p> + +<p>"'I mighty feer'd, lilly Davy you too leetul for um—'</p> + +<p>"'No! King Sol, I kin lick um. One day I gits asleep ahind a rock, and +out kums a lion and a bawr, and begins a-totin off a lilly lam; and when +I heern um roarin and pawin 'bout, I rubs my eyes and sees um gwyin to +the mountings—and I arter and ketch'd up and kill um both without no +gun nor sword—and I bring back poor lilly lamb. I kin lick ole Goliawh, +I tell you, please your majuste, sir.'</p> + +<p>"Then King Sol he wery glad, and pat um on the head, and calls um 'lilly +Davy,' and wants to put on um his own armur made of brass and sheetirum +and to take his sword, but Davy didn't like um, but said he'd trust to +his sling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1283" id="Page_1283">[Pg 1283]</a></span> And then out he goes to fite the ole jiunt; and this 'ar +brings me to the fourth and last diwishin of our surmun.</p> + +<p>"'Tention once more agin, for lass time, as I'm gwyin to give most +purtikurlust 'zactest 'count of the juul atween lilly Davy and ole +Goliawh the jiunt, to show, lubly sinnah! how the Lord's peepul without +no carnul gun nor sword, can fite ole Bellzybub and knock um over with +the sling rock of prayer, as lilly Davy knocked over Goliawh with hissin +out of the Branch.</p> + +<p>"And to 'lusterut the juul and make um spikus, I'll show 'zactly how +they talk'd, and jaw'd, and fit it all out; and so ole Goliawh when he +sees Davy a kumun, he hollurs out so, and lilly Davy he say back so:</p> + +<p>"'What you kum for, lilly Jew?—'</p> + +<p>"'What I kum for? you'll find out mighty quick, I tell you—I kum for +fite juul—'</p> + +<p>"'Huhh! huhh! haw!—t'ink I'm gwyin to fite puttee lilly baby? I want +King Sol or Abnah, or a big soljur man—'</p> + +<p>"'Hole your jaw—I'll make you laugh tother side, ole grizzle-gruzzle, +'rectly—I'm man enough for biggust jiunt Fillystine.'</p> + +<p>"'Go way, poor lilly boy! go home, lilly baby, to your mudder, and git +sugar plum—I no want kill puttee lilly boy—'</p> + +<p>"'Kum on!—don't be afeerd!—don't go for to run away!—I'll ketch you +and lick you—'</p> + +<p>"'You leetul raskul—I'll kuss you by all our gods—I'll cut out your +sassy tung—I'll break your blackguard jaw—I'll rip you up and give um +to the dogs and crows—'</p> + +<p>"'Don't cuss so, ole Golly! I 'sposed you wanted to fite juul—so kum on +with your old irun-pot hat on—you'll git belly full mighty quick—'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1284" id="Page_1284">[Pg 1284]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'You nasty leetle raskul, I'll kum and kill you dead as chopped +sassudge.'"</p> + +<p>Here the preacher represented the advance of the parties; and gave a +florid and wonderfully effective description of the closing act partly +by words and partly by pantomime; exhibiting innumerable marches and +counter-marches to get to windward, and all the postures, and gestures, +and defiances, till at last he personated David putting his hand into a +bag for a stone; and then making his cotton handkerchief into a sling, +he whirled it with fury half a dozen times around his head, and then let +fly with much skill at Goliath; and at the same instant halloing with +the frenzy of a madman—"Hurraw for lilly Davy!" At that cry he, with +his left hand, struck himself a violent slap on the forehead, to +represent the blow of the sling-stone hitting the giant; and then in +person of Goliath he dropped <i>quasi</i> dead upon the platform amid the +deafening plaudits of the congregation; all of whom, some spiritually, +some sympathetically, and some carnally, took up the preacher's triumph +shout—</p> + +<p>"Hurraw! for lilly Davy!"</p> + +<p>How the Rev. Mizraim Ham made his exit from the boards I could not +see—perhaps he rolled or crawled off. But he did not suffer +decapitation, like "ole Golly": since in ten minutes, his woolly pate +suddenly popped up among the other sacred heads that were visible over +the front railing of the rostrum, as all kept moving to and fro in the +wild tossings of religious frenzy.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had Mr. Ham fallen at his post, when a venerable old warrior, +with matchless intrepidity, stepped into the vacated spot; and without a +sign of fear carried on the contest against the Arch Fiend, whose great +ally had been so recently overthrown—i.e., Goliath, (not Mr. Ham). Yet +excited, as evidently was this veteran, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1285" id="Page_1285">[Pg 1285]</a></span> still could not forego his +usual introduction, stating how old he was; where he was born; where he +obtained religion; how long he had been a preacher; how many miles he +had traveled in a year; and when he buried his wife—all of which +edifying truths were received with the usual applauses of a devout and +enlightened assembly. But this introduction over—which did not occupy +more than fifteen or twenty minutes—he began his attack in fine style, +waxing louder and louder as he proceeded, till he exceeded all the old +gentlemen to "holler" I ever heard, and indeed old ladies either.</p> + + +<h3>EXTRACT FROM HIS DISCOURSE</h3> + +<p>"... Yes, sinners! you'll all have to fall and be knock'd down some time +or nuther, like the great giant we've heern tell on, when the Lord's +sarvints come and fight agin you! Oho! sinner! sinner!—oh!—I hope you +may be knock'd down to-night—now!—this moment—and afore you die and +go to judgment! Yes! oho! yes! oh!—I say judgment—for it's appinted +once to die and then the judgment—oho! oh! And what a time ther'll be +then! You'll see all these here trees—and them 'are stars, and yonder +silver moon afire!—and all the alliments a-meltin and runnin down with +fervent heat-ah!"—(I have elsewhere stated that the <i>unlearned</i> +preachers out there (?) are by the vulgar—(not the <i>poor</i>)—but the +<i>vulgar</i>, supposed to be more favored in preaching than man-made +preachers; and that the sign of an unlearned preacher's inspiration +being in full <i>blast</i> is his inhalations, which puts an ah! to +the end of sentences, members, words, and even exclamations, till +his breath is all gone, and no more can be <i>sucked</i> in)—"Oho! +hoah! fervent heat-ah! and the trumpit a-soundin-ah<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1286" id="Page_1286">[Pg 1286]</a></span>!—and the dead +arisin-ah!—and all on us a-flyin-ah!—to be judged-ah!—O-hoah! +sinner—sinner—sinner—sinner-ah! And what do I see away +thar'-ah!—down the Mississippi-ah!—thar's a man jist done a-killin-ah +another-ah!—and up he goes with his bloody dagger-ah! And what's that I +see to the East-ah! where proud folks live clothed in purple-ah! and +fine linen-ah!—I see 'em round a table a drinkin a decoction of Indian +herb-ah!—and up they go with cups in thar hands-ah! and +see—ohoah!—see! in yonder doggery some a dancin-ah! and +fiddlin-ah!—and up they go-ah! with cards-ah! and fiddle-ah!" etc., +etc.</p> + +<p>Here the tempest around drowned the voice of the old hero; although, +from the frantic violence of his gestures, the frightful distortion of +his features, and the Pythonic foam of his mouth, he was plainly blazing +away at the enemy. The uproar, however, so far subsided as to allow my +hearing his closing exhortation, which was this:</p> + +<p>"... Yes, I say—fall down—fall down all of you, on your +knees!—shout!—cry aloud!—spare not!—stamp with the <i>foot</i>!—smite +with the <i>hand</i>!—down! <i>down!</i>—that's it—down brethren!—down +preachers!—down <i>sisters</i>!—pray away!—take it by storm!—<i>fire</i> away! +fire <i>away</i>! not one at a time! not two together-ah!—a single shot the +devil will <i>dodge-ah</i>!—give it to him <i>all at once</i>—fire a <i>whole +platoon</i>!—at him!!"</p> + +<p>And then such platoon firing as followed! If Satan stood that, he can +stand much more than the worthy folks thought he could. And, indeed, the +effect was wonderful!—more than forty thoughtless sinners that came for +fun, and twice as many backsliders were instantly knocked over!—and +there all lay, some with violent jerkings and writhings of body, and +some uttering the most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1287" id="Page_1287">[Pg 1287]</a></span> piercing and dismaying shrieks and groans! The +fact is, I was nearly knocked down myself—</p> + +<p>"You?—Mr. Carlton!!"</p> + +<p>Yes—indeed—but not by the hail of spiritual shot falling so thick +around me; it was by a sudden rush towards my station, where I stood +mounted on a stump. And this rush was occasioned by a wish to see a +stout fellow lying on the straw in the pen, a little to my left, +groaning and praying, and yet kicking and pummelling away as if +scuffling with a sturdy antagonist. Near him were several men and women +at prayer, and one or more whispering into his ear; while on a small +stump above stood a person superintending the contest, and so as to +insure victory to the right party. Now the prostrate man, who like a +spirited tom-cat seemed to fight best on his back, was no other than our +celebrated New Purchase bully—Rowdy Bill! And this being reported +through the congregation, the rush had taken place by which I was so +nearly overturned. I contrived, however, to regain my stand, shared +indeed now with several others, we hugging one another and standing on +tip-toes and our necks elongated as possible; and thus we managed to +have a pretty fair view of matters.</p> + +<p>About this time the Superintendent in a very loud voice cried out—"Let +him alone, brothers! let him alone sisters! keep on praying!—it's a +hard fight—the devil's got a tight grip yet! He don't want to lose poor +Bill—but he'll let go soon—Bill's gittin the better on him fast!—Pray +away!"</p> + +<p>Rowdy Bill, be it known, was famous as a gouger, and so expert was he in +his antioptical vocation, that in a few moments he usually bored out an +antagonist's eyes, or made him cry <i>peccavi</i>. Indeed, could he, on the +present occasion, have laid hold of his unseen foe's head—spirit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1288" id="Page_1288">[Pg 1288]</a></span>ually +we mean—he would—figuratively, of course—soon have caused him to ease +off or let go entirely his metaphorical grip. So, however, thought one +friend in the assembly—Bill's wife. For Bill was a man after her own +heart; and she often said that "with fair play she sentimentally allowed +her Bill could lick ary a man in the 'varsal world, and his weight in +wild cats to boot." Hence, the kind-hearted creature, hearing that Bill +was actually fighting with the evil one, had pressed in from the +outskirts to see fair play; but now hearing Bill was in reality down, +and apparently undermost, and above all, the words of the +Superintendent, declaring that the fiend had a tight grip of the poor +fellow, her excitement would no longer be controlled; and, collecting +her vocal energies, she screamed out her common exhortation to Bill, and +which, when heeded, had heretofore secured him immediate +victories—"Gouge him, Billy!—gouge him, <i>Billy!—gouge</i> him!"</p> + +<p>This spirited exclamation was instantly shouted by Bill's cronies and +partizans—mischievously, <i>maybe</i>, for we have no right to judge of +men's motives, in meetings:—but a few—<i>friends</i>, doubtless, of the old +fellow—cried out in very irreverent tone—"Bite him! devil—<i>bite</i> +him!" Upon which the faithful wife, in a tone of voice that beggars +description, reiterated her—"Gouge him," etc.—in which she was again +joined by her husband's allies, and that to the alarm of his invisible +foe; for Bill now rose to his knees, and on uttering some mystic jargon +symptomatic of conversion, he was said to have "got religion";—and then +all his new friends and spiritual guides united in fresh prayers and +shouts of thanksgiving.</p> + +<p>It was now very late at night; and joining a few other citizens of +Woodville, we were soon in our saddles and buried in the darkness of the +forest. For a long time,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1289" id="Page_1289">[Pg 1289]</a></span> however, the uproar of the spiritual elements +at the camp continued at intervals to swell and diminish on the hearing; +and, often came a yell that rose far above the united din of other +screams and outcries. Nay, at the distance of nearly two miles, could be +distinguished a remarkable and sonorous <i>oh</i>!—like the faintly heard +explosion of a mighty elocutional class, practising under a master. And +yet my comrades, who had heard this peculiar cry more than once, all +declared that this wonderful <i>oh</i>-ing was performed by the separate +voice of our townsman, Eolus Letherlung, Esq.!</p> + + +<h3>CONCLUSION</h3> + +<p>A camp-meeting of <i>this sort</i> is, all things considered, the very best +contrivance for making the largest number of converts in the shortest +possible time; and also for enlarging most speedily the bounds of a +Church <i>Visible</i> and <i>Militant</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1290" id="Page_1290">[Pg 1290]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A RHYME FOR CHRISTMAS</h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN CHALLING</h3> + +<h4>Publication delayed by the author's determined but futile attempt to +find the rhyme</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If <i>Browning</i> only were here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This yule-ish time o' the year—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This mule-ish time o' the year,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stubbornly still refusing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To add to the rhymes we've been using<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the first Christmas-glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(One might say) chantingly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rendered by rudest hinds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the pelt-clad shepherding kinds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who didn't know Song from b-<br /></span> +<span class="i0">U-double-l's-foot!—Pah!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Haply the old Egyptian <i>ptah</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I'd hardly wager a baw-<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bee—or a <i>bumble</i>, for that—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that's flat!)....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the thing that I want to get at<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a rhyme for <i>Christmas</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay! nay! nay! nay! not <i>isthmus</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The t- and the h- sounds covertly are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gnawing the nice auracular<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Senses until one may hear them gnar—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the terminal, too, for m<i>a</i>s, is m<i>u</i>s,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So <i>that</i> will not do for us.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1291" id="Page_1291">[Pg 1291]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Try for it—sigh for it—cry for it—die for it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O <i>but</i> if Browning were here to apply for it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He'd</i> rhyme you <i>Christmas</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He'd</i> make a <i>mist pass</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over—something o' ruther—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or find you the rhyme's very brother<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In lovers that <i>kissed fast</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To baffle the moon</i>,—as he'd lose the <i>t</i>-final<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fas-t as it blended with <i>to</i> (mark the spinal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elision—tip-clipt as exquisitely nicely<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hyper-exactingly sliced to precisely<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The extremest technical need): Or he'd <i>twist glass</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or he'd have a <i>kissed lass</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or shake neath our noses some great giant <i>fist-mass</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No matter! If Robert were here, <i>he</i> could do it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though it took us till Christmas next year to see through it.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1292" id="Page_1292">[Pg 1292]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MY CIGARETTE<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY CHARLES F. LUMMIS</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My cigarette! The amulet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That charms afar unrest and sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The magic wand that far beyond<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-day can conjure up to-morrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like love's desire, thy crown of fire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So softly with the twilight blending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ah! meseems, a poet's dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are in thy wreaths of smoke ascending.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My cigarette! Can I forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How Kate and I, in sunny weather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sat in the shade the elm-tree made<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rolled the fragrant weed together?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I at her side beatified,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hold and guide her fingers willing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She rolling slow the paper's snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Putting my heart in with the filling.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My cigarette! I see her yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The white smoke from her red lips curling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her dreaming eyes, her soft replies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her gentle sighs, her laughter purling!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, dainty roll, whose parting soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ebbs out in many a snowy billow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, too, would burn if I might earn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon her lips so soft a pillow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1293" id="Page_1293">[Pg 1293]</a></span><span class="i0">Ah, cigarette! The gay coquette<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has long forgot the flames she lighted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you and I unthinking by<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alike are thrown, alike are slighted.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darkness gathers fast without,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A raindrop on my window plashes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My cigarette and heart are out,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And naught is left me but the ashes.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1294" id="Page_1294">[Pg 1294]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IT IS TIME TO BEGIN TO CONCLUDE</h2> + +<h3>BY A.H. LAIDLAW</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Parsons, desirous all sinners to save,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to make each a prig or a prude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If two thousand long years have not made us behave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is time you began to conclude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Husbands, who wish your sweet mates to grow mum,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And whose tongues you have never subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ten years of your reign have not made them grow dumb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is time to begin to conclude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Matrons of men whose brown meerschaum still mars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sweet kiss with tobacco bedewed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After pleading nine years, if they still puff cigars,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is time you began to conclude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Lawyers, who aim to reform all the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And your statutes forever intrude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If five thousand lost years have not worked as you planned,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is time to begin to conclude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Lovers, who sigh for the heart of a maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And forty-four years have pursued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If two scores of young years have not taught you your trade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is time you began to conclude.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1295" id="Page_1295">[Pg 1295]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Doctors, who claim to cure every ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And so much of mock learning exude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the <i>Comma Bacillus</i> still laughs at your pill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is time to begin to conclude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Maidens of Fifty, who lonely abide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet who heartily scout solitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Jack with his whiskers is not at your side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is time to begin to conclude.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1296" id="Page_1296">[Pg 1296]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>NOTHIN' DONE<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY SAM S. STINSON</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Winter is too cold fer work;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freezin' weather makes me shirk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spring comes on an' finds me wishin'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could end my days a-fishin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then in summer, when it's hot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I say work kin go to pot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Autumn days, so calm an' hazy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorter make me kinder lazy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That's the way the seasons run.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems I can't git nothin' done.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1297" id="Page_1297">[Pg 1297]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MARGINS</h2> + +<h3>BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My dreams so fair that used to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The promises of youth's bright clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So changed, alas; come back to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet memories of that hopeful time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before I learned, with doubt oppressed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are no birds in next year's nest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The seed I sowed in fragrant spring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The summer's sun to vivify<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his warm kisses, ripening<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To golden harvest by and by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Got caught by drought, like all the rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are no birds in next year's nest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stock I bought at eighty-nine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Broke down next day to twenty-eight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some squatters jumped my silver mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My own convention smashed my slate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more in "futures" I'll invest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are no birds in next year's nest.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1298" id="Page_1298">[Pg 1298]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE DUBIOUS FUTURE</h2> + +<h3>BY BILL NYE</h3> + + +<p>Without wishing to alarm the American people, or create a panic, I +desire briefly and seriously to discuss the great question, "Whither are +we drifting, and what is to be the condition of the coming man?" We can +not shut our eyes to the fact that mankind is passing through a great +era of change; even womankind is not built as she was a few brief years +ago. And is it not time, fellow citizens, that we pause to consider what +is to be the future of the American?</p> + +<p>Food itself has been the subject of change both in the matter of +material and preparation. This must affect the consumer in such a way as +to some day bring about great differences. Take, for instance, the +oyster, one of our comparatively modern food and game fishes, and watch +the effects of science upon him. At one time the oyster browsed around +and ate what he could find in Neptune's back-yard, and we had to eat him +as we found him. Now we take a herd of oysters off the trail, all run +down, and feed them artificially till they swell up to a fancy size, and +bring a fancy price. Where will this all lead at last, I ask as a +careful scientist? Instead of eating apples, as Adam did, we work the +fruit up into apple-jack and pie, while even the simple oyster is +perverted, and instead of being allowed to fatten up in the fall on +acorns and ancient mariners, spurious flesh is put on his bones by the +artificial osmose and dialysis of our advanced civilization. How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1299" id="Page_1299">[Pg 1299]</a></span> can +you make an oyster stout or train him down by making him jerk a health +lift so many hours every day, or cultivate his body at the expense of +his mind, without ultimately not only impairing the future usefulness of +the oyster himself, but at the same time affecting the future of the +human race who feed upon him?</p> + +<p>I only use the oyster as an illustration, and I do not wish to cause +alarm, but I say that if we stimulate the oyster artificially and swell +him up by scientific means, we not only do so at the expense of his +better nature and keep him away from his family, but we are making our +mark on the future race of men. Oyster-fattening is now, of course, in +its infancy. Only a few years ago an effort was made at St. Louis to +fatten cove oysters while in the can, but the system was not well +understood, and those who had it in charge only succeeded in making the +can itself more plump. But now oysters are kept on ground feed and given +nothing to do for a few weeks, and even the older and overworked +sway-backed and rickety oysters of the dim and murky past are made to +fill out, and many of them have to put a gore in the waistband of their +shells. I only speak of the oyster incidentally, as one of the objects +toward which science has turned its attention, and I assert with the +utmost confidence that the time will come, unless science should get a +set-back, when the present hunting-case oyster will give place to the +open-face oyster, grafted on the octopus and big enough to feed a hotel. +Further than that, the oyster of the future will carry in a hip-pocket a +flask of vinegar, half a dozen lemons and two little Japanese bottles, +one of which will contain salt and the other pepper, and there will be +some way provided by which you can tell which is which. But are we +improving the oyster now? That is a question we may well ask ourselves. +Is this a healthy fat which we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1300" id="Page_1300">[Pg 1300]</a></span> are putting on him, or is it bloat? And +what will be the result in the home-life of the oyster? We take him from +all domestic influences whatever in order to make a swell of him by our +modern methods, but do we improve his condition morally, and what is to +be the great final result on man?</p> + +<p>The reader will see by the questions I ask that I am a true scientist. +Give me an overcoat pocket full of lower-case interrogation marks and a +medical report to run to, and I can speak on the matter of science and +advancement till Reason totters on her throne.</p> + +<p>But food and oysters do not alone affect the great, pregnant future. Our +race is being tampered with not only by means of adulterations, +political combinations and climatic changes, but even our methods of +relaxation are productive of peculiar physical conditions, malformations +and some more things of the same kind.</p> + +<p>Cigarette smoking produces a flabby and endogenous condition of the +optic nerve, and constant listening at a telephone, always with the same +ear, decreases the power of the other ear till it finally just stands +around drawing its salary, but actually refusing to hear anything. +Carrying an eight-pound cane makes a man lopsided, and the muscular and +nervous strain that is necessary to retain a single eyeglass in place +and keep it out of the soup, year after year, draws the mental stimulus +that should go to the thinker itself, until at last the mind wanders +away and forgets to come back, or becomes atrophied, and the great +mental strain incident to the work of pounding sand or coming in when it +rains is more than it is equal to.</p> + +<p>Playing billiards, accompanied by the vicious habit of pounding on the +floor with the butt of the cue ever and anon, produces at last optical +illusions, phantasmagoria and visions of pink spiders with navy-blue +abdomens.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1301" id="Page_1301">[Pg 1301]</a></span> Baseball is not alone highly injurious to the umpire, but it +also induces crooked fingers, bone spavin and hives among habitual +players. Jumping the rope induces heart disease. Poker is unduly +sedentary in its nature. Bicycling is highly injurious, especially to +skittish horses. Boating induces malaria. Lawn tennis can not be played +in the house. Archery is apt to be injurious to those who stand around +and watch the game, and pugilism is a relaxation that jars heavily on +some natures.</p> + +<p>Foot-ball produces what may be called the endogenous or ingrowing +toenail, stringhalt and mania. Copenhagen induces a melancholy, and the +game of bean bag is unduly exciting. Horse racing is too brief and +transitory as an outdoor game, requiring weeks and months for +preparation and lasting only long enough for a quick person to ejaculate +"Scat!" The pitcher's arm is a new disease, the outgrowth of base-ball; +the lawn-tennis elbow is another result of a popular open-air amusement, +and it begins to look as though the coming American would hear with one +overgrown telephonic ear, while the other will be rudimentary only. He +will have an abnormal base-ball arm with a lawn-tennis elbow, a powerful +foot-ball-kicking leg with the superior toe driven back into the palm of +his foot. He will have a highly trained biceps muscle over his eye to +retain his glass, and that eye will be trained to shoot a curved glance +over a high hat and witness anything on the stage.</p> + +<p>Other features grow abnormal, or shrink up from the lack of use, as a +result of our customs. For instance, the man whose business it is to get +along a crowded street with the utmost speed will have, finally, a hard, +sharp horn growing on each elbow, and a pair of spurs growing out of +each ankle. These will enable him to climb over a crowd and get there +early. Constant exposure to these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1302" id="Page_1302">[Pg 1302]</a></span> weapons on the part of the pedestrian +will harden the walls of the thorax and abdomen until the coming man +will be an impervious man. The citizen who avails himself of all modern +methods of conveyance will ride from his door on the horse car to the +elevated station, where an elevator will elevate him to the train and a +revolving platform will swing him on board, or possibly the street car +will be lifted from the surface track to the elevated track, and the +passenger will retain his seat all the time. Then a man will simply hang +out a red card, like an express card, at his door, and a combination car +will call for him, take him to the nearest elevated station, elevate +him, car and all, to the track, take him where he wants to go, and call +for him at any hour of the night to bring him home. He will do his +exercising at home, chiefly taking artificial sea baths, jerking a +rowing machine or playing on a health lift till his eyes hang out on his +cheeks, and he need not do any walking whatever. In that way the coming +man will be over-developed above the legs, and his lower limbs will look +like the desolate stems of a frozen geranium. Eccentricities of limb +will be handed over like baldness from father to son among the dwellers +in the cities, where every advantage in the way of rapid transit is to +be had, until a metropolitan will be instantly picked out by his able +digestion and rudimentary legs, just as we now detect the gentleman from +the interior by his wild endeavors to overtake an elevated train.</p> + +<p>In fact, Mr. Edison has now perfected, or announced that he is on the +road to the perfection of, a machine which I may be pardoned for calling +a storage think-tank. This will enable a brainy man to sit at home, and, +with an electric motor and a perfected phonograph, he can think into a +tin dipper or funnel, which will, by the aid of electricity and a new +style of foil, record and preserve his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1303" id="Page_1303">[Pg 1303]</a></span> ideas on a sheet of soft metal, +so that when any one says to him, "A penny for your thoughts," he can go +to his valise and give him a piece of his mind. Thus the man who has +such wild and beautiful thoughts in the night and never can hold on to +them long enough to turn on the gas and get his writing materials, can +set this thing by the head of his bed, and, when the poetic thought +comes to him in the stilly night, he can think into a hopper, and the +genius of Franklin and Edison together will enable him to fire it back +at his friends in the morning while they eat their pancakes and glucose +syrup from Vermont, or he can mail the sheet of tinfoil to absent +friends, who may put it into their phonographs and utilize it. In this +way the world may harness the gray matter of its best men, and it will +be no uncommon thing to see a dozen brainy men tied up in a row in the +back office of an intellectual syndicate, dropping pregnant thoughts +into little electric coffee mills for a couple of hours a day, after +which they can put on their coats, draw their pay, and go home.</p> + +<p>All this will reduce the quantity of exercise, both mental and physical. +Two men with good brains could do the thinking for 60,000,000 of people +and feel perfectly fresh and rested the next day. Take four men, we will +say, two to do the day thinking and two more to go on deck at night, and +see how much time the rest of the world would have to go fishing. See +how politics would become simplified. Conventions, primaries, bargains +and sales, campaign bitterness and vituperation—all might be wiped out. +A pair of political thinkers could furnish 100,000,000 of people with +logical conclusions enough to last them through the campaign and put an +unbiased opinion into a man's house each day for less than he now pays +for gas. Just before election you could go into your private office, +throw in a large dose of campaign whisky, light a cam<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1304" id="Page_1304">[Pg 1304]</a></span>paign cigar, +fasten your buttonhole to the wall by an elastic band, so that there +would be a gentle pull on it, and turn the electricity on your +mechanical thought supply. It would save time and money, and the result +would be the same as it is now. This would only be the beginning, of +course, and after a while every qualified voter who did not feel like +exerting himself so much, need only give his name and proxy to the +salaried thinker employed by the National Think Retort and Supply Works. +We talk a great deal about the union of church and state, but that is +not so dangerous, after all, as the mixture of politics and independent +thought. Will the coming voter be an automatic, legless, hairless +mollusk with an abnormal ear constantly glued to the tube of a big tank +full of symmetrical ideas furnished by a national bureau of brains in +the employ of the party in power?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1305" id="Page_1305">[Pg 1305]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>UTAH</h2> + +<h3>BY EUGENE FIELD</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bowed was the old man's snow-white head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A troubled look was on his face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Why come you, sir," I gently said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Unto this solemn burial place?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I come to weep a while for one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom in her life I held most dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas, her sands were quickly run,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now she lies a sleeping here."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, tell me of your precious wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For she was very dear, I know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It must have been a blissful life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You led with her you treasure so?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My wife is mouldering in the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yonder house she's spinning now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lo! this moment may be found<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A driving home the family cow;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And see, she's standing at the stile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leans from out the window wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loiters on the sward a while,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her forty babies by her side."</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1306" id="Page_1306">[Pg 1306]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Old man, you must be mad!" I cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Or else you do but jest with me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How is it that your wife has died<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet can here and living be?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How is it while she drives the cow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She's hanging out her window wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loiters, as you said just now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With forty babies by her side?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The old man raised his snowy head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I have a sainted wife in Heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am a Mormon, sir," he said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"My sainted wife on earth are seven."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1307" id="Page_1307">[Pg 1307]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TALK</h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN PAUL</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It seems to me that talk should be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like water, sprinkled sparingly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then ground that late lay dull and dried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles up at you revivified,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flowers—of speech—touched by the dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put forth fresh root and bud anew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I'm not sure that any flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would thrive beneath Niagara's shower!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So when a friend turns full on me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His verbal hose, may I not flee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know that I am arid ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I'm not watered—Gad! I'm drowned!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1308" id="Page_1308">[Pg 1308]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A WINTER FANCY</h2> + +<h3>(<i>Little Tommy Loq</i>)</h3> + +<h3>BY R.K. MUNKITTRICK</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My father piles the snow-drifts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around his rosy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And covers all his whiskers—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The grass that grows apace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then he runs the snow-plough<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across his smiling lawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the snow-drifts vanish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then the grass is gone.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1309" id="Page_1309">[Pg 1309]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>JACK BALCOMB'S PLEASANT WAYS</h2> + +<h3>BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON</h3> + + +<p>There comes a time in the life of young men when their college +fraternity pins lie forgotten in the collar-button box and the spiking +of freshmen ceases to be a burning issue. Tippecanoe was one of the few +freshwater colleges that barred women; but this was not its only +distinction, for its teaching was sound, its campus charming and the +town of which it was the chief ornament a quiet place noted from the +beginning of things for its cultivated people.</p> + +<p>It is no longer so very laudable for a young man to pay his way through +college; and Morris Leighton had done this easily and without caring to +be praised or martyrized for doing so. He had enjoyed his college days; +he had been popular with town and gown; and he had managed to get his +share of undergraduate fun while leading his classes. He had helped in +the college library; he had twisted the iron letter-press on the +president's correspondence late into the night; he had copied briefs for +a lawyer after hours; but he had pitched for the nine and hustled for +his "frat," and he had led class rushes with ardor and success.</p> + +<p>He had now been for several years in the offices of Knight, Kittredge +and Carr at Mariona, only an hour's ride from Tippecanoe; and he still +kept in touch with the college. Michael Carr fully appreciated a young +man who took the law seriously and who could sit down in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1310" id="Page_1310">[Pg 1310]</a></span> court room +on call mornings, when need be, and turn off a demurrer without +paraphrasing it from a text-book.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carr, too, found Morris Leighton useful, and she liked him, because +he always responded unquestioningly to any summons to fill up a blank at +her table; and if Mr. Carr was reluctant at the last minute to attend a +lecture on "Egyptian Burial Customs," Mrs. Carr could usually summon +Morris Leighton by telephone in time to act as her escort. Young men +were at a premium in Mariona, as in most other places, and it was +something to have one of the species, of an accommodating turn, and very +presentable, within telephone range. Mrs. Carr was grateful, and so, it +must be said, was her husband, who did not care to spend his evenings +digging up Egyptians that had been a long time dead, or listening to +comic operas. It was through Mrs. Carr that Leighton came to be well +known in Mariona; she told her friends to ask him to call, and there +were now many homes besides hers that he visited.</p> + +<p>It sometimes occurred to Morris Leighton that he was not getting ahead +in the world very fast. He knew that his salary from Carr was more than +any other young lawyer of his years earned by independent practice; but +it seemed to him that he ought to be doing better. He had not drawn on +his mother's small resources since his first year at college; he had +made his own way—and a little more—but he experienced moments of +restlessness in which the difficulties of establishing himself in his +profession loomed large and formidable.</p> + +<p>An errand to a law firm in one of the fashionable new buildings that had +lately raised the Mariona sky-line led him one afternoon past the office +of his college classmate, Jack Balcomb. "J. Arthur Balcomb," was the +inscription on the door, "Suite B, Room 1." Leighton had seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1311" id="Page_1311">[Pg 1311]</a></span> little of +Balcomb for a year or more, and his friend's name on the ground-glass +door arrested his eye.</p> + +<p>Two girls were busily employed at typewriters in the anteroom, and one +of them extended a blank card to Morris and asked him for his name. The +girl disappeared into the inner room and came back instantly followed by +Balcomb, who seized Morris's hand, dragged him in and closed the door.</p> + +<p>"Well, old man!" Balcomb shouted. "I'm glad to see you. It's downright +pleasant to have a fellow come in occasionally and feel no temptation to +take his watch. Sink into yonder soft-yielding leather and allow me to +offer you one of these plutocratic perfectos. Only the elect get these, +I can tell you. In that drawer there I keep a brand made out of car +waste and hemp rope, that does very well for ordinary commercial +sociability. Got a match? All right; smoke up and tell me what you're +doing to make the world a better place to live in, as old Prexy used to +say at college."</p> + +<p>"I'm digging at the law, at the same old stand. I can't say that I'm +flourishing like Jonah's gourd, as you seem to be."</p> + +<p>Morris cast his eyes over the room, which was handsomely furnished. +There was a good rug on the floor and the desk and table were of heavy +oak; an engraving of Thomas Jefferson hung over Balcomb's desk, and on +the opposite side of the room was a table covered with financial +reference books.</p> + +<p>"Well, I tell you, old man," declared Balcomb, "you've got to fool all +the people all the time these days to make it go. Those venerable +whiskers around town whine about the good old times and how a young +man's got to go slow but sure. There's nothing in it; and they wouldn't +be in it either, if they had to start in again; no siree!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1312" id="Page_1312">[Pg 1312]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is your game just now, Jack, if it isn't impertinent? It's hard to +keep track of you. I remember very well that you started in to learn the +wholesale drug business."</p> + +<p>"Oh tush! don't refer to that, an thou lovest me! That is one of the +darkest pages of my life. Those people down there in South High Street +thought I was a jay, and they sent me out to help the shipping clerk. +Wouldn't that jar you! Overalls,—and a hand truck. Wow! I couldn't get +out of that fast enough. Then, you know, I went to Chicago and spent a +year in a broker's office, and I guess I learned a few up there. Oh, +rather! They sent me into the country to sell mining stock and I made a +record. They kept the printing presses going overtime to keep me +supplied. Say, they got afraid of me; I was too good!"</p> + +<p>He stroked his vandyke beard complacently, and flicked the ash from his +cigar.</p> + +<p>"What's your line now? Real estate, mortgages, lending money to the +poor? How do you classify yourself?"</p> + +<p>"You do me a cruel wrong, Morris, a cruel wrong. You read my sign on the +outer wall? Well, that's a bluff. There's nothing in real estate, <i>per +se</i>, as old Doc Bridges used to say at college. And the loan business +has all gone to the bad,—people are too rich; farmers are rolling in +real money and have it to lend. There was nothing for little Willie in +petty brokerages. I'm scheming—promoting—and I take my slice off of +everything that passes."</p> + +<p>"That certainly sounds well. You've learned fast. You had an ambition to +be a poet when you were in college. I think I still have a few pounds of +your verses in my traps somewhere."</p> + +<p>Balcomb threw up his head and laughed in self-pity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1313" id="Page_1313">[Pg 1313]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I believe I <i>was</i> bitten with the literary tarantula for a while, but +I've lived it down, I hope. Prexy used to predict a bright literary +future for me in those days. You remember, when I made Phi Beta Kappa, +how he took both my hands and wept over me. 'Balcomb,' he says, 'you're +an honor to the college.' I suppose he'd weep again, if he knew I'd only +forgotten about half the letters of the Greek alphabet,—left them, as +one might say, several thousand parasangs to the rear in my mad race for +daily sustenance. Well, I may not leave any vestiges on the sands of +time, but, please God, I shan't die hungry,—not if I keep my health. +Dear old Prexy! He was a nice old chump, though a trifle somnolent in +his chapel talks."</p> + +<p>"Well, we needn't pull the planks out of the bridge we've crossed on. I +got a lot out of college that I'm grateful for. They did their best for +us," said Morris.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; it was well enough, but if I had it to do over, Tippecanoe +wouldn't see me; not much! It isn't what you learn in college, it's the +friendships you make and all that sort of thing that counts. A western +man ought to go east to college and rub up against eastern fellows. The +atmosphere at the freshwater colleges is pretty jay. Fred Waters left +Tippecanoe and went to Yale and got in with a lot of influential fellows +down there,—chaps whose fathers are in big things in New York. Fred has +a fine position now, just through his college pull, and first thing you +know, he'll pick up an heiress and be fixed for life. Fred's a winner +all right."</p> + +<p>"He's also an ass," said Leighton. "I remember him of old."</p> + +<p>"An ass of the large gray and long-eared species,—I'll grant you that, +all right enough; but look here, old man, you've got to overlook the +fact that a fellow occasionally lifts his voice and brays. Man does not +live by the spirit alone; he needs bread, and bread's getting hard to +get."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1314" id="Page_1314">[Pg 1314]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've noticed it," replied Leighton, who had covered all this ground +before in talks with Balcomb and did not care to go into it further.</p> + +<p>"And then, you remember," Balcomb went on, in enjoyment of his own +reminiscences, "I wooed the law for a while. But I guess what I learned +wouldn't have embarrassed Chancellor Kent. I really had a client once. I +didn't see a chance of getting one any other way, so I hired him. He was +a coon. I employed him for two dollars to go to the Grand Opera House +and buy a seat in the orchestra when Sir Henry Irving was giving <i>The +Merchant of Venice</i>. He went to sleep and snored and they threw him out +with rude, insolent, and angry hands after the second act; and I brought +suit against the management for damages, basing my claim on the idea +that they had spurned my dusky brother on account of his race, color and +previous condition of servitude. The last clause was a joke. He had +never done any work in his life, except for the state. He was a very +sightly coon, too, now that I recall him. The show was, as I said, <i>The +Merchant of Venice</i>, and I'll leave it to anybody if my client wasn't at +least as pleasing to the eye as Sir Henry in his Shylock togs. I suppose +if it had been <i>Othello</i>, race feeling would have run so high that Sir +Henry would hardly have escaped lynching. Well, to return. My client got +loaded on gin about the time the case came up on demurrer and gave the +snap away, and I dropped out of the practice to avoid being disbarred. +And it was just as well. My landlord had protested against my using the +office at night for poker purposes, so I passed up the law and sought +the asphodel fields of promotion. <i>Les affaires font l'homme</i>, as old +Professor Garneau used to say at college. So here I am; and I'm glad I +shook the law. I'd got tired of eating coffee and rolls at the Berlin +bakery three times a day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1315" id="Page_1315">[Pg 1315]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, Morris, old man," he went on volubly, "there were days when the +loneliness in my office grew positively oppressive. You may remember +that room I had in the old Adams and Harper Block? It gave upon a +courtyard where the rats from a livery stable came to disport themselves +on rainy days. I grew to be a dead shot with the flobert rifle; but +lawsy, there's mighty little consideration for true merit in this world! +Just because I winged a couple of cheap hack horses one day, when my +nerves weren't steady, the livery people made me stop, and one of my +fellow tenants in the old rookery threatened to have me arrested for +conducting a shooting gallery without a license. He was a dentist, and +he said the snap of the rifle worried his victims."</p> + +<p>The two typewriting machines outside clicked steadily. Some one knocked +at the door.</p> + +<p>"Come in!" shouted Balcomb.</p> + +<p>One of the typewriter operators entered with a brisk air of business and +handed a telegram to Balcomb, who tore it open nonchalantly. As he read +it, he tossed the crumpled envelope over his shoulder in an +absent-minded way.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he exclaimed, slapping his leg as though the news were +important. Then, to the girl, who waited with note-book and pencil in +hand: "Never mind; don't wait. I'll dictate the answer later."</p> + +<p>"How did it work?" he asked, turning to Leighton, who had been looking +over the books on the table.</p> + +<p>"How did what work?"</p> + +<p>"The fake. It was a fake telegram. That girl's trained to bring in a +message every time I have a caller. If the caller stays thirty minutes, +it's two messages,—in other words I'm on a fifteen-minute schedule. I +tip a boy in the telegraph office to keep me supplied with blanks. It's +a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1316" id="Page_1316">[Pg 1316]</a></span> great scheme. There's nothing like a telegram to create the +impression that your office is a seething caldron of business. Old Prexy +was in town the other day. I don't suppose he ever got a dose of +electricity in his life unless he had been sorely bereft of a member of +his family and was summoned to the funeral baked meats. Say, he must +have thought I had a private wire!"</p> + +<p>Leighton sat down and fanned himself with his hat.</p> + +<p>"You'll be my death yet. You have the cheek of a nice, fresh, new +baggage-check, Balcomb."</p> + +<p>"Your cigar isn't burning well, Morris. Won't you try another? No? I +like my guests to be comfortable."</p> + +<p>"I'm comfortable enough. I'm even entertained. Go ahead and let me see +the rest of the show."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we haven't exactly a course of stunts here. Those are nice girls +out there. I've broken them of the chewing-gum habit, and they can +answer anxious inquiries at the door now without danger of +strangulation."</p> + +<p>"They seem speedy on the machine. Your correspondence must be something +vast!"</p> + +<p>"Um, yes. It has to be. Every cheap skate of a real estate man keeps one +stenographer. My distinction is that I keep two. They're easy +advertising. Now that little one in the pink shirt-waist that brought in +the message from Mars a moment ago is a wonder of intelligence. Do you +know what she's doing now?"</p> + +<p>"Trying to break the machine I should guess, from the racket."</p> + +<p>"Bah! It's the Lord's Prayer."</p> + +<p>"You mean it's a sort of prayer machine."</p> + +<p>"Not on your life. Maude hasn't any real work to do just now and she's +running off the Lord's Prayer. I know by the way it clicks. When she +strikes 'our daily bread' the machine always gives a little gasp. See? +The rule<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1317" id="Page_1317">[Pg 1317]</a></span> of the office is that they must have some diddings doing all +the time. The big one with red hair is a perfect marvel at the +Declaration of Independence. She'll be through addressing circulars in a +little while and will run off into 'All men are created equal'—a +blooming lie, by the way—without losing a stroke."</p> + +<p>"You <i>have</i> passed the poetry stage, beyond a doubt. But I should think +the strain of keeping all this going would be wearing on your sensitive +poetical nature. And it must cost something."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" Balcomb pursed his lips and stroked his fine soft beard. "But +it's worth it. I'm not playing for small stakes. I'm looking for +Christmas trees. Now they've got their eyes on me. These old Elijahs +that have been the bone and sinew of the town for so long that they +think they own it, are about done for. You can't sit in a bank here any +more and look solemn and turn people down because your corn hurts or +because the chinch-bugs have got into the wheat in Dakota or the czar +has bought the heir apparent a new toy pistol. You've got to present a +smiling countenance to the world and give the glad hand to everybody +you're likely to need in your business. I jolly everybody!"</p> + +<p>"That comes easy for you; but I didn't know you could make an asset of +it."</p> + +<p>"It's part of my working capital. Now you'd better cut loose from old +man Carr and move up here and get a suite near me. I've got more than I +can do,—I'm always needing a lawyer,—organizing companies, legality of +bonds, and so on. Dignified work. Lots of out-of-town people come here +and I'll put you in touch with them. I threw a good thing to Van Cleve +only the other day. Bond foreclosure suit for some fellows in the East +that I sell stuff to. They wrote and asked me the name of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1318" id="Page_1318">[Pg 1318]</a></span> a good man. I +thought of you—old college days and all that—but Van Cleve had just +done me a good turn and I had to let him have it. But you'd better come +over. You'll never know the world's in motion in that musty old hole of +Carr's. You get timid and afraid to go near the water by staying on +shore so long. But say, Morris, you seem to be getting along pretty well +in the social push. Your name looks well in the society column. How do +you work it, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Don't expect me to give the snap away. The secret's valuable. And I'm +not really inside; I am only peering through the pickets!"</p> + +<p>"Tush! Get thee hence! I saw you in a box at the theater the other +night,—evidently Mrs. Carr's party. There's nothing like mixing +business with pleasure. Ah me!"</p> + +<p>He yawned and stroked his beard and laughed, with a fine showing of +white teeth.</p> + +<p>"I don't see what's pricking you with small pins of envy. You were there +with about the gayest crowd I ever saw at a theater; and it looked like +your own party."</p> + +<p>"Don't say a word," implored Balcomb, putting out his hand. "Members of +the board of managers of the state penitentiary, their wives, their +cousins and their aunts. Say, weren't those beauteous whiskers! My eye! +Well, the evening netted me about five hundred plunks, and I got to see +the show and to eat a good supper in the bargain. Some reformers were to +appear before them that night officially, and my friends wanted to keep +them busy. I was called into the game to do something,—hence these +tears. Lawsy! I earned my money. Did you see those women?—about two +million per cent. pure jay!"</p> + +<p>"You ought to cut out that sort of thing; it isn't nice."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you needn't be so virtuous. Carr keeps a whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1319" id="Page_1319">[Pg 1319]</a></span> corps of rascals to +spread apple-butter on the legislature corn-bread."</p> + +<p>"You'd better speak to him about it. He'd probably tell Mrs. Carr to ask +you to dinner right away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that will come in time. I don't expect to do everything at once. +You may see me up there some time; and when you do, don't shy off like a +colt at the choo-choos. By the way, I'd like to be one of the bright +particular stars of the Dramatic Club if you can fix it. You remember +that amateur theatricals are rather in my line."</p> + +<p>"I do. At college you were one of the most persistent Thespians we had, +and one of the worst. But let social matters go. You haven't told me how +to get rich quick yet. I haven't had the nerve to chuck the law as you +have."</p> + +<p>"Well," continued Balcomb, expansively, "a fellow has got to take what +he can when he can. One swallow doesn't make a summer; one sucker +doesn't make a spring; so we must catch the birdling <i>en route</i> or <i>en +passant</i>, as our dear professor of modern languages used to try to get +us to remark. Say, between us old college friends, I cleared up a couple +of thousand last week just too easy for any use. You know Singerly, the +popular undertaker,—Egyptian secret of embalming, lady and gentleman +attendants, night and day,—always wears a spray of immortelles in his +lapel and a dash of tuberose essence on his handkerchief. Well, Singerly +and I operated together in the smoothest way you ever saw. Excuse me!" +He lay back and howled. "Well, there was an old house up here on High +Street just where it begins to get good; very exclusive—old families +and all that. It belonged to an estate, and I got an option on it just +for fun. I began taking Singerly up there to look at it. We'd measure +it, and step it off, and stop and palaver on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1320" id="Page_1320">[Pg 1320]</a></span> the sidewalk. In a day or +two those people up there began to take notice and to do me the honor to +call on me. You see, my boy, an undertaking shop—even a fashionable +one—for a neighbor, isn't pleasant; it wouldn't add, as one might say, +to the <i>sauce piquante</i> of life; and as a reminder of our mortality—a +trifle depressing, as you will admit."</p> + +<p>He took the cigar from his mouth and examined the burning end of it +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"I sold the option to one of Singerly's prospective neighbors for the +matter of eleven hundred. He's a retired wholesale grocer and didn't +need the money."</p> + +<p>"Seems to me you're cutting pretty near the dead-line, Jack. That's not +a pretty sort of hold-up. You might as well take a sandbag and lie in +wait by night."</p> + +<p>"Great rhubarb! You make me tired. I'm not robbing the widow and the +orphan, but a fat old Dutchman who doesn't ask anything of life but his +sauerkraut and beer."</p> + +<p>"And you do! You'd better give your ethical sense a good tonic before +you butt into the penal code."</p> + +<p>"Come off! I've got a better scheme even than the Singerly deal. The +school board's trying to locate a few schools in up-town districts. Very +undesirable neighbors. I rather think I can make a couple of turns +there. This is all strictly <i>inter nos</i>, as Professor Morton used to say +in giving me, as a special mark of esteem, a couple of hundred extra +lines of Virgil to keep me in o' nights."</p> + +<p>He looked at his watch and gave the stem-key a few turns before +returning it to his pocket.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to excuse me, old man. I've got a date with Adams, over at +the Central States Trust Company. He's a right decent chap when you know +how to handle him. I want to get them to finance a big apartment house<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1321" id="Page_1321">[Pg 1321]</a></span> +scheme. I've got an idea for a flat that will make the town sit up and +gasp."</p> + +<p>"Don't linger on my account, Jack. I only stopped in to see whether you +kept your good spirits. I feel as though I'd had a shower bath. Come +along."</p> + +<p>Several men were waiting to see Balcomb in the outer office and he shook +hands with all of them and begged them to come again, taking care to +mention that he had been called to the Central States Trust Company and +had to hurry away.</p> + +<p>He called peremptorily to the passing elevator-car to wait, and as he +and Leighton squeezed into it, he continued his half of an imaginary +conversation in a tone that was audible to every passenger.</p> + +<p>"I could have had those bonds, if I had wanted them; but I knew there +was a cloud on them—the county was already over its legal limit. I +guess those St. Louis fellows will be sorry they were so +enterprising—here we are!"</p> + +<p>And then in a lower tone to Leighton: "That was for old man Dameron's +benefit. Did you see him jammed back in the corner of the car? Queer old +party and as tight as a drum. When I can work off some assessable and +non-interest bearing bonds on him, it'll be easy to sell Uncle Sam's +Treasury a gold brick. They say the old man has a daughter who is finer +than gold; yea, than much fine gold. I'm going to look her up, if I ever +get time. You'd better come over soon and pick out an office. <i>Verbum +sat sapienti</i>, as our loving teacher used to say. So long!"</p> + +<p>Leighton walked back to his office in good humor and better contented +with his own lot.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1322" id="Page_1322">[Pg 1322]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE WICKED ZEBRA<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY FRANK ROE BATCHELDER</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The zebra always seems malicious,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He kicks and bites 'most all the time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear that he's not only vicious,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But guilty of some dreadful crime.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mere suggestion makes me falter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In writing of this wicked brute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although he has escaped the halter,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He wears for life a convict's suit.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1323" id="Page_1323">[Pg 1323]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE BRAKEMAN AT CHURCH</h2> + +<h3>BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE</h3> + + +<p>One bright winter morning, the twenty-ninth day of December, Anno Domini +1879, I was journeying from Lebanon, Indiana, where I had sojourned +Sunday, to Indianapolis. I did not see the famous cedars, and I supposed +they had been used up for lead-pencils, and moth-proof chests, and +relics, and souvenirs; for Lebanon is right in the heart of the holy +land. That part of Indiana was settled by Second Adventists, and they +have sprinkled goodly names all over their heritage. As the train +clattered along, stopping at every station to trade off some people who +were tired of traveling for some other people who were tired of staying +at home, I got out my writing-pad, pointed a pencil, and wondered what +manner of breakfast I would be able to serve for the ever hungry +"Hawkeye" next morning.</p> + +<p>I was beginning to think I would have to disguise some "left-overs" +under a new name, as the thrifty housekeeper knows how to do, when my +colleague, my faithful yoke-fellow, who has many a time found for me a +spring of water in the desert place—the Brakeman, came down the aisle +of the car. He glanced at the tablet and pencil as I would look at his +lantern, put my right hand into a cordial compress that abode with my +fingers for ten minutes after he went away, and seating himself easily +on the arm of the seat, put the semaphore all right for me by saying:</p> + +<p>"Say, I went to church yesterday."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1324" id="Page_1324">[Pg 1324]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good boy," I said, "and what church did you attend?"</p> + +<p>"Guess," was his reply.</p> + +<p>"Some Union Mission chapel?" I ventured.</p> + +<p>"N-no," he said, "I don't care to run on these branch roads very much. I +don't get a chance to go to church every Sunday, and when I can go, I +like to run on the main line, where your trip is regular, and you make +schedule time, and don't have to wait on connections. I don't care to +run on a branch. Good enough, I reckon, but I don't like it."</p> + +<p>"Episcopal?" I guessed.</p> + +<p>"Limited express!" he said, "all parlor cars, vestibuled, and two +dollars extra for a seat; fast time, and only stop at the big stations. +Elegant line, but too rich for a brakeman. All the trainmen in uniform; +conductor's punch and lanterns silver-plated; train-boys fenced up by +themselves and not allowed to offer anything but music. Passengers talk +back at the conductor. Trips scheduled through the whole year, so when +you get aboard you know just where you're going and how long it will +take you. Most systematic road in the country and has a mighty nice +class of travel. Never hear of a receiver appointed on that line. But I +didn't ride in the parlor car yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Universalist?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Broad gauge," the Brakeman chuckled; "does too much complimentary +business to be prosperous. Everybody travels on a pass. Conductor +doesn't get a cash fare once in fifty miles. Stops at all way-stations +and won't run into anything but a union depot. No smoking-car allowed on +the train because the company doesn't own enough brimstone to head a +match. Train orders are rather vague, though; and I've noticed the +trainmen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1325" id="Page_1325">[Pg 1325]</a></span> don't get along very well with the passengers. No, I didn't go +on the broad gauge, though I have some good friends on that road who are +the best people in the world. Been running on it all their lives."</p> + +<p>"Presbyterian?" I hinted.</p> + +<p>"Narrow gauge, eh?" said the Brakeman; "pretty track; straight as a +rule; tunnel right through the heart of a mountain rather than go around +it; spirit level grade; strict rules, too; passengers have to show their +tickets before they get on the train; cars a little bit narrow for +sleepers; have to sit one in a seat and no room in the aisle to dance. +No stop-over tickets allowed; passenger must go straight through to the +station he's ticketed for, or stay off the car. When the car's full, +gates are shut; cars built at the shops to hold just so many, and no +more allowed on. That road is run right up to the rules and you don't +often hear of an accident on it. Had a head-on collision at Schenectady +union station and run over a weak bridge at Cincinnati, not many years +ago, but nobody hurt, and no passengers lost. Great road."</p> + +<p>"May be you rode with the Agnostics?" I tried.</p> + +<p>The Brakeman shook his head emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Scrub road," he said, "dirt road-bed and no ballast; no time-card, and +no train dispatcher. All trains run wild and every engineer makes his +own time, just as he pleases. A sort of 'smoke-if-you-want-to' road. Too +many side tracks; every switch wide open all the time, switchman sound +asleep and the target-lamp dead out. Get on where you please and get off +when you want. Don't have to show your tickets, and the conductor has no +authority to collect fare. No, sir; I was offered a pass, but I don't +like the line. I don't care to travel over a road that has no terminus.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, I asked a division superintendent where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1326" id="Page_1326">[Pg 1326]</a></span> his road run to, +and he said he hoped to die if he knew. I asked him if the general +superintendent could tell me, and he said he didn't believe they had a +general superintendent, and if they had, he didn't know any more about +the road than the passengers did. I asked him who he reported to, and he +said, 'Nobody.' I asked a conductor who he got his orders from, and he +said he didn't take no orders from any living man or dead ghost. And +when I asked the engineer who gave him orders, he said he'd just like to +see any man on this planet try to give him orders, black-and-white or +verbal; he said he'd run that train to suit himself or he'd run it into +the ditch. Now, you see, I'm not much of a theologian, but I'm a good +deal of a railroad man, and I don't want to run on a road that has no +schedule, makes no time, has no connections, starts anywhere and runs +nowhere, and has neither signal man, train dispatcher or superintendent. +Might be all right, but I've railroaded too long to understand it."</p> + +<p>"Did you try the Methodist?"</p> + +<p>"Now you're shoutin'!" he cried with enthusiasm; "that's the hummer! +Fast time and crowds of passengers! Engines carry a power of steam, and +don't you forget it. Steam-gauge shows a hundred and enough all the +time. Lively train crews, too. When the conductor shouts 'All +a-b-o-a-r-d!' you can hear him to the next hallelujah station. Every +train lamp shines like a head-light. Stop-over privileges on all +tickets; passenger can drop off the train any time he pleases, do the +station a couple of days and hop on to the next revival train that comes +thundering along with an evangelist at the throttle. Good, whole-souled, +companionable conductors; ain't a road on earth that makes the +passengers feel more at home. No passes issued on any account; +everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1327" id="Page_1327">[Pg 1327]</a></span> pays full traffic rate for his own ticket. Safe road, too; +well equipped; Wesleyanhouse air brakes on every train. It's a road I'm +fond of, but I didn't begin this week's run with it."</p> + +<p>I began to feel that I was running ashore; I tried one more lead:</p> + +<p>"May be you went with the Baptists?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, ha!" he shouted, "now you're on the Shore line! River Road, eh? +Beautiful curves, lines of grace at every bend and sweep of the river; +all steel rail and rock ballast; single track, and not a siding from the +round-house to the terminus. Takes a heap of water to run it, though; +double tanks at every station, and there isn't an engine in the shops +that can run a mile or pull a pound with less than two gauges. Runs +through a lovely country—river on one side and the hills on the other; +and it's a steady climb, up grade all the way until the run ends where +the river begins, at the fountain head. Yes, sir, I'll take the River +Road every time for a safe trip, sure connections, good time, and no +dust blowing in when you open a window. And yesterday morning, when the +conductor came around taking up fares with a little basket punch, I +didn't ask him to pass me; I paid my fare like a little +Jonah—twenty-five cents for a ninety-minute run, with a concert by the +passengers thrown in. I tell you what it is, Pilgrim, never mind your +baggage, you just secure your passage on the River Road if you want to +go to—"</p> + +<p>But just here the long whistle announced a station, and the Brakeman +hurried to the door, shouting—</p> + +<p>"Zions-VILLE! ZIONS-ville! All out for Zionsville! This train makes no +stops between here and Indianapolis!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1328" id="Page_1328">[Pg 1328]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>HOW MR. TERRAPIN LOST HIS BEARD</h2> + +<h3>BY ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON</h3> + + +<p>The "cook-house" stood at some little distance from the "big house," and +every evening after supper it was full of light and noise and laughter. +The light came from the fire on the huge hearth, above which hung the +crane and the great iron pots which Eliza, the cook, declared were +indispensable in the practice of her art. To be sure, there was a +cook-stove, but 'Liza was wedded to old ways and maintained there was +nothing "stove cooked" that could hope to rival the rich and nutty +flavor of ash cake, or greens "b'iled slow an' long over de ha'th, wid a +piece er bacon in de pot."</p> + +<p>The noise and laughter came from a circle of dusky and admiring friends, +for Aunt 'Liza was a great favorite with everybody on the plantation, +and though hunchbacked and homely, had, nevertheless, had her pick, as +she was fond of boasting, of the likeliest looking men on the place; and +though she had been twice wedded and twice widowed, aspirants were not +wanting for the position now vacant for a third time. Indeed, not long +before, a member of the family, on going to the cook-house to see why +dinner was so late, had discovered one Sam, the burly young ox-cart +driver, on his knees, pleading very earnestly with the elderly and +humpbacked little cook, while dinner simmered on and on, unnoticed and +forgotten. When remonstrated with she said that she was "'bleeged ter +have co'tin' times ez well ez de res' er folks," and intimated that in +affairs of the heart these things were apt to happen at any time or +place, and that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1329" id="Page_1329">[Pg 1329]</a></span> if a gentleman chose an inopportune moment "'twan't her +fault," and no one could, with any show of reason, expect her not to pay +attention to him. She ruled everybody, her white folks included, though +just how she did it no one could say, unless she was one of those +commanding spirits and born leaders who sometimes appear even in the +humblest walks of life. It is possible that her uncommonly strong will +compelled the affections of her male admirers, but it is also possible +that she condescended to flatter, and it is certain that she fed them +well.</p> + +<p>One night, between supper and bedtime, the children heard the sound of a +banjo proceeding from the cook-house. They had never ventured into Aunt +'Liza's domain before, but the plinketty-plunk of the banjo, the sound +of patting and the thud of feet keeping time to the music drew them +irresistibly. Aunt Nancy was there, in the circle about the embers, as +was also her old-time foe, Aunt 'Phrony, and the banjo was in the hands +of Tim, a plow-boy, celebrated as being the best picker for miles +around. Lastly, there were Aunt 'Liza and her latest conquest, Sam, +whose hopes she could not have entirely quenched or he would not have +beamed so complacently on the assembled company.</p> + +<p>There was a hush as the three little heads appeared in the doorway, but +the children begged them to go on, and so Tim picked away for dear life +and Sam did a wonderful double-shuffle with the pigeon-wing thrown in. +Then Tim sang a plantation song about "Cindy Ann" that ran something +like this:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i0">I'se gwine down ter Richmond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll tell you w'at hit's for:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'se gwine down ter Richmond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fer ter try an' end dis war.</span></div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1330" id="Page_1330">[Pg 1330]</a></span><br /> +<div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i0">Refrain: An'-a you good-by, Cindy, Cindy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Good-by, Cindy Ann;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An'-a you good-by, Cindy, Cindy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I'se gwine ter Rappahan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i0">I oon ma'y a po' gal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll tell de reason w'y:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her neck so long an' skinny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'se 'feared she nuver die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i7">Refrain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i0">I oon ma'y a rich gal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll tell de reason w'y:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bekase she dip so much snuff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mouf is nuver dry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i6">Refrain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i0">I ru'rr ma'y a young gal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A apple in her han',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dan ter ma'y a widdy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wid a house an' a lot er lan'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i6">Refrain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At the reference to a "widdy" he winked at the others and looked +significantly at Sam and Aunt 'Liza. Then he declared it was the turn of +the ladies to amuse the gentlemen. Aunt Nancy and Aunt 'Phrony cried, +"Hysh! Go 'way, man! W'at ken we-all do? Done too ol' fer foolishness; +leave dat ter de gals!" But 'Liza was not inclined to leave the +entertainment of gentlemen to "gals," whom she declared to be, for the +most part, "wu'fless trunnel-baid trash."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1331" id="Page_1331">[Pg 1331]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come, come, Sis' 'Phrony, an' you, too, Sis' Nancy," said she, "you +knows dar ain' nu'rr pusson on de place kin beat you bofe in der marter +uv tellin' tales. I ain' nuver have de knack myse'f, but I knows a good +tale w'en I years hit, an' I bin gittin' myse'f fixed fer one uver sence +you comed in."</p> + +<p>The children added their petitions, seconded by Tim and Sam. Aunt Nancy +looked as if she were feeling around in the dusk of half-forgotten +things for a dimly remembered story, perceiving which the nimbler-witted +Aunt 'Phrony made haste to say that she believed she knew a story which +might please the company if they were not too hard to suit. They +politely protested that such was far from being the case, whereupon she +began the story of how the Terrapin lost his beard.</p> + +<p>"Um-umph!" snorted Aunt Nancy, "who uver year tell uv a tarr'pin wid a +by'ud!"</p> + +<p>"Look-a-yer, ooman," said 'Phrony, "who tellin' dis, me er you? You +s'pose I'se talkin' 'bout de li'l ol' no-kyount tarr'pins dey has dese +days? Naw, suh! I'se tellin' 'bout de ol' time Tarr'pin whar wuz a gre't +chieft an' a big fighter, an' w'ensomuver tu'rr creeturs come roun' an' +try ter pay him back, he jes' drord his haid in his shell an' dar he +wuz. Dish yer ain' no ol' nigger tale, neener, dish yer a Injun tale +whar my daddy done tol' me w'en I wan't no bigger'n Miss Janey. He say +dat sidesen de by'ud, Tarr'pin had big wattles hangin' down beneaf his +chin, jes' lak de tukkey-gobblers has dese days. Him an' Mistah Wi'yum +Wil'-tukkey wuz mighty good fren's dem times, an' Tukkey he thought +Tarr'pin wuz a monst'ous good-lookin' man. He useter mek gre't 'miration +an' say, 'Mistah Tarry-long Tarr'pin, you sut'n'y is a harnsum man. Dar +ain' nu'rr creetur in dese parts got such a by'ud an' wattles ez w'at +you is.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1332" id="Page_1332">[Pg 1332]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Den Tarr'pin he'd stroke down de by'ud an' swell out de wattles an' +say, 'Sho! sho! Mistah Tukkey, you done praise dese yer heap mo'n w'at +dey is wuf,' but all de same he wuz might'ly please', fer dar's nuttin' +lak a li'l bit er flatt'ry fer ilin' up de j'ints an' mekin' folks +limbersome in der feelin's.</p> + +<p>"Tukkey git ter thinkin' so much 'bout de by'ud an' de wattles dat seem +ter him ez ef he kain't git long no-hows lessen he have some fer +hisse'f, 'kase in dem days de gobblers ain' have none. He study an' he +study, but he kain't see whar he kin git 'em, an' de mo' he study de mo' +he hone atter 'em. Las' he git so sharp set atter 'em dat he ain' kyare +how he git 'em, jes' so he git 'em, an' den he mek up his min' he gwine +tek 'em 'way f'um Tarr'pin. So one day w'en he met up wid him in de road +he stop him an' bob his haid an' mek his manners mighty p'litely, an' he +say, sezee, 'Mawnin', Mistah Tarry-long, mawnin'. How you come on dis +day? I ain' hatter ax you, dough, 'kase you done look so sprucy wid yo' +by'ud all comb' out an' yo' wattles puff' up. I wish, suh, you lemme +putt 'em on fer a minnit, so's't I kin see ef I becomes 'em ez good ez +w'at you does.'</p> + +<p>"Ol' man Tarr'pin mighty easy-goin' an' commodatin', so he say, 'W'y, +sut'n'y, Mistah Tukkey, you kin tek 'em an' welcome fer a w'iles.' So +Tukkey he putts 'em on an' moseys down ter de branch ter look at hisse'f +in de water. 'Whoo-ee!' sezee ter hisse'f, 'ain' I de caution in dese +yer fixin's! I'se saw'y fer de gals now, I sut'n'y is, 'kase w'at wid my +shape an' dish yer by'ud an' wattles, dar gwine be some sho'-'nuff +heart-smashin' roun' dese diggin's, you year me sesso!'</p> + +<p>"Den he go struttin' back, shakin' de by'ud an' swellin' put de wattles +an' jes' mo'n steppin' high an' prancin' w'ile he sing:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1333" id="Page_1333">[Pg 1333]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i0">'Cle'r outen de way fer ol' Dan Tucker,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'se too late ter git yo' supper.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Den he say, sezee, 'Mistah Tarr'pin, please, suh, ter lemme keep dese +yer? I b'lieve I becomes 'em mo'n w'at you does, 'kase my neck so long +an' thin seem lak I needs 'em ter set hit off mo'n w'at you does wid dat +shawt li'l neck er yo'n whar you keeps tuck 'way in yo' shell half de +time, anyways. Sidesen dat, you is sech a runt dat you g'long draggin' +de by'ud on de groun', an' fus' news you know hits 'bleeged ter be wo' +out. You bes' lemme have hit, 'kase I kin tek good kyare uv hit.'</p> + +<p>"Den Tarr'pin say, sezee, 'I lak ter 'commodate you, Mistah Tukkey, but +I ain' see how I kin. I done got so use ter runnin' my fingers thu de +by'ud an' spittin' over hit w'en I'se settin' roun' thinkin' er talkin' +dat I dunno how I kin do widout hit, an' I kain't git long, no-how, +widout swellin' up de wattles w'en I git tetched in my feelin's. Sidesen +dat, I kin tek kyare er de by'ud, ef I <i>is</i> a runt; I bin doin' it a +good w'ile, an' she ain' wo' out yit. So please, suh, ter han' me over +my fixin's.'</p> + +<p>"'Not w'iles I got any wind lef' in me fer runnin',' sez de Tukkey, +sezee, an' wid dat he went a-scootin', ol' man Tarr'pin atter him, +hot-foot. Dey went scrabblin' up de mountains an' down de mountains, an' +'twuz pull Dick, pull devil, fer a w'ile. Dey kain't neener one uv 'em +climb up ve'y fas', but w'en dey git ter de top, Tukkey he fly down an' +Tarr'pin he jes' natchully turn over an' roll down. But Tukkey git de +start an' keep hit. W'en Tarr'pin roll to de bottom uv a mountain den +he'd see Tukkey at de top er de nex' one. Dey kep' hit up dis-a-way +'cross fo' ridges, an' las' Tarr'pin he plumb wo' out an' he see he +wan't gwine ketch up at dat rate, so he gin up fer dat day. Den he go +an' hunt up de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1334" id="Page_1334">[Pg 1334]</a></span> cunjerers an' ax 'em fer ter he'p him. He say, 'Y'all +know dat by'ud an' wattles er mine? Well, I done loan 'em to Mistah +Wi'yum Wil'-tukkey, 'kase he wuz my fren' an' he done ax me to. An' now +he turn out ter be no-kyount trash, an' w'at I gwine do? You bin knowin' +I is a slow man, an' if I kain't git some he'p, I hatter say good-by +by'ud an' wattles.'"</p> + +<p>"What are 'cunjerers,' Aunt 'Phrony?" said Ned.</p> + +<p>"Well now, honey," said she, "I dunno ez I kin jes' rightly tell you, +but deys w'at de Injuns calls 'medincin'-men,' an' dey doctors de sick +folks an' he'ps de hunters ter git game an' de gals ter git beaux, an' +putts spells on folks an' mek 'em do jes' 'bout w'at dey want 'em to. +An' so dese yer cunjerers dey goes off by derse'fs an' has a confab an' +den dey come back an' tell Mistah Tarr'pin dat dey reckon dey done fix +Mistah Tukkey dis time.</p> + +<p>"'W'at you done wid him?' sezee.</p> + +<p>"'We ain' ketch 'im,' dey ses, 'we lef' dat fer you, dat ain' ow' +bizness, but we done fix him up so't you kin do de ketchin' yo'se'f.'</p> + +<p>"'W'at has you done to him, den?' sezee.</p> + +<p>"'Son', dey ses, 'we done putt a lot er li'l bones in his laigs, an' dat +gwine slow him up might'ly, an' we 'pends on you ter do de res', 'kase +we knows dat you is a gre't chieft.'</p> + +<p>"Den Tarr'pin amble long 'bout his bizness an' neener stop ner res' +ontwel he met up wid Tukkey onct mo'. He ax fer his by'ud an' wattles +ag'in, but Tukkey jes' turnt an' stept out f'um dat, Tarr'pin atter him. +But seem lak de cunjerers thought Mistah Tarr'pin wuz faster'n w'at he +wuz, er dat Mistah Tukkey 'z slower'n w'at <i>he</i> wuz, 'kase Tarr'pin ain' +nuver ketch up wid him yit, an' w'ats mo', de tarr'pins is still doin' +widout by'uds an' wattles an' de gobblers is still wearin' 'em an' +swellin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1335" id="Page_1335">[Pg 1335]</a></span> roun' showin' off ter de gals, steppin' ez high ez ef dem li'l +bones w'at de cunjerers putt dar wan't still in der laigs, an' struttin' +lak dey wuz sayin' ter ev'y pusson dey meets:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i0">'Cle'r outen de way fer ol' Dan Tucker,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'se too late ter git yo' supper.'"<br /></span></div> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1336" id="Page_1336">[Pg 1336]</a></span></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE CRITIC</h2> + +<h3>BY WILLIAM J. LAMPTON</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Critic, bold and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who sits in judgment on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The twilight and the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of literature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, eminently sure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Informs his age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What printed page<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is destined to be great.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His word is Fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what he writes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is greater far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all the books<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He writes of are.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His pen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is dipped in boom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or doom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He says one book is rot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that another's not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ends it. He<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is pure infallibility,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And any book he judges must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be blessed or cussed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By all mankind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except the blind</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1337" id="Page_1337">[Pg 1337]</a></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who will not see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The master's modest mastery.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fiat stands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the uplifted hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thousands who protest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And buy the books<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That they like best;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what of that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knows where he is at,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they don't. And why<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shouldn't he be high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above them as the clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are high above the brooks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For God, He made the Critic,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And man, he makes the books.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gee whiz,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a puissant potentate the Critic is.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1338" id="Page_1338">[Pg 1338]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE ASSOCIATED WIDOWS</h2> + +<h3>BY KATHARINE M. ROOF</h3> + + +<p>The confirmed bachelor sat apart, fairly submerged by a sea of Sunday +papers; yet a peripheral consciousness of the ladies' presence was +revealed in his embryonic smile.</p> + +<p>He folded over a voluminous sheet containing an account of the latest +murder, and glanced at a half-page picture, labeled, "The Scene of the +Crime."</p> + +<p>"Was there ever yet a woman that could keep a secret," he demanded, +apparently of the newspaper. "Now, if this poor fellow had only kept his +little plans to himself—but, of course, he had to go and tell some +woman."</p> + +<p>"Looks like the man didn't know how to keep his secret that time," +returned Mrs. Pendleton with a smile calculated to soften harsh +judgments against her sex.</p> + +<p>"There are some secrets woman can keep," observed Elsie Howard. Her gaze +happened to rest upon Mrs. Pendleton's golden hair.</p> + +<p>"For instance," demanded the confirmed bachelor. (His name was Barlow.)</p> + +<p>"Oh—her age for one thing." Elsie withdrew her observant short-sighted +eyes from Mrs. Pendleton's crowning glory, and a smile barely touched +the corners of her expressively inexpressive mouth. Mrs. Pendleton +glanced up, faintly suspicious of that last remark.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barlow laughed uproariously. In the two years that he had been a +"guest" in Mrs. Howard's boarding-house he had come to regard Miss Elsie +as a wit, and it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1339" id="Page_1339">[Pg 1339]</a></span> was his habit—like the Italians at the opera—to give +his applause before the closing phrases were delivered.</p> + +<p>"I guess that's right. You hit it that time. That's one secret a woman +can keep." He chuckled appreciatively.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pendleton laughed less spontaneously than usual and said, "It +certainly was a dangerous subject," that "she had been looking for +silver hairs amongst the gold herself lately." And again Elsie's eyes +were attracted to the hairs under discussion. For three months now she +had questioned that hair. At night it seemed above reproach in its +infantile fairness, but in the crude unkind daylight there was a garish +insistence about it that troubled the eye.</p> + +<p>At that moment the door opened and Mrs. Hilary came in with her bonnet +on. She glanced around with frigid greeting.</p> + +<p>"So I'm not late to dinner after all. I had thought you would be at +table. The tram was so slow I was sorry I had not walked and saved the +fare." She spoke with an irrational rising and falling of syllables that +at once proclaimed her nationality. She was a short, compact little +woman with rosy cheeks, abundant hair and a small tight mouth. Mrs. +Hilary was a miniature painter by choice and a wife and mother by +accident. She was subject to lapses in which she unquestionably forgot +the twins' existence. She recalled them suddenly now.</p> + +<p>"Has any one seen Gladys and Gwendolen? Dear, dear, I wonder where they +are. They wouldn't go to church with me. Those children are such a +responsibility."</p> + +<p>"But they are such happy children," said gentle little Mrs. Howard, who +had come in at the beginning of this speech. In her heart Mrs. Howard +dreaded the long-legged, all-pervasive twins, but she pitied the +widowed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1340" id="Page_1340">[Pg 1340]</a></span> and impoverished little artist. "So sad," she was wont to say +to her intimates in describing her lodger, "a young widow left all alone +in a foreign country."</p> + +<p>"But one would hardly call America a foreign country to an +Englishwoman," one friend had interpolated at this point.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," Mrs. Howard had acknowledged, "but she <i>seems</i> foreign. +Her husband was an American, I believe, and he evidently left her with +almost nothing. He must have been very unkind to her, she has such a +dislike of Americans. She wasn't able to give the regular price for the +rooms, but I couldn't refuse her—I felt so sorry for her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard liked to "feel sorry for" people. Yet she was apt to find +herself at sea in attempting to sympathize with Mrs. Hilary. She was a +sweet-faced, tired-looking little woman with a vague smile and dreamy +eyes. About five years ago Mrs. Howard had had "reverses" and had been +forced by necessity to live to violate the sanctity of her hearth and +home; grossly speaking, she had been obliged to take boarders, no +feasible alternative seeming to suggest itself. The old house in +Eleventh Street, in which she had embarked upon this cheerless career, +had never been a home for her or her daughter. Yet an irrepressible +sociability of nature enabled her to find a certain pleasure in the life +impossible to her more reserved daughter.</p> + +<p>As they all sat around now in the parlor, into which the smell of the +Sunday turkey had somehow penetrated, a few more guests wandered in and +sat about provisionally on the impracticable parlor furniture, waiting +for the dinner signal. Mrs. Howard bravely tried to keep up the +simulation of social interchange with which she ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1341" id="Page_1341">[Pg 1341]</a></span> pathetically +strove to elevate the boarding-house intercourse into the decency of a +chosen association.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there came a thump and a crash against the door and the twins +burst in, their jackets unbuttoned, their dusty picture hats awry.</p> + +<p>"Oh! mater, mater!" they cried tumultuously, dancing about her.</p> + +<p>"Such sport, mater. We fed the elephant."</p> + +<p>"And the rabbits—"</p> + +<p>"And a monkey carried off Gwendolen's gloves—"</p> + +<p>"Children," exclaimed Mrs. Hilary impotently, looking from one to the +other, "where <i>have</i> you been?" (She pronounced it bean.)</p> + +<p>"To the park, mater—"</p> + +<p>"To see the animals—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mater, you should see the ducky little baby lion!"</p> + +<p>"What is it that they call you?" inquired a perpetually smiling young +kindergartner who had just taken possession of a top-floor hall-room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hilary glanced at her slightingly.</p> + +<p>"What is it that they <i>call</i> me? Why, mater, of course."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes," the girl acquiesced pleasantly. "I remember now; it's +English, of course."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," returned Mrs. Hilary instructively, "it's not English; it's +Latin."</p> + +<p>The kindergartner was silent. Mrs. Pendleton suppressed a chuckle that +strongly suggested her "mammy." Mr. Barlow grinned and Elsie Howard's +mouth twitched.</p> + +<p>"They are such picturesque children," Mrs. Howard put in hastily. "I +wonder you don't paint them oftener."</p> + +<p>"I declare I just wish I could paint," Mrs. Pendleton contributed +sweetly, "I think it's such pretty work."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hilary was engrossed in the task of putting the twins to rights.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1342" id="Page_1342">[Pg 1342]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't know what to do with them, they are quite unmanageable," she +sighed. "It's so bad for them—bringing them up in a lodging-house."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard flushed and Mrs. Pendleton's eyes flashed. The dinner bell +rang and Elsie Howard rose with a little laugh.</p> + +<p>"An English mother with American children! What do you expect, Mrs. +Hilary?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hilary was busy retying a withered blue ribbon upon the left side +of Gladys' brow. She looked up to explain:</p> + +<p>"They are only half-American, you know. But their manners are getting +quite ruined with these terrible American children."</p> + +<p>Then they filed down into the basement dining-room for the noon dinner.</p> + +<p>"Horrid, rude little Cockney," Mrs. Pendleton whispered in Elsie +Howard's ear.</p> + +<p>The girl smiled faintly. "Oh, she doesn't know she is rude. She is +just—English."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard, over the characterless soup, wondered what it was about the +little English artist that seemed so "different." Conversation with Mrs. +Hilary developed such curious and unexpected difficulties. Mrs. Howard +looked compassionately over at the kindergartner who, with the +hopefulness of inexperience, started one subject after another with her +unresponsive neighbor. What quality was it in Mrs. Hilary that +invariably brought both discussion and pleasantry to a standstill? +Elsie, upon whom Mrs. Howard depended for clarification of her thought, +would only describe it as "English." In her attempts to account for this +alien presence in her household, Mrs. Howard inevitably took refuge in +the recollection of Mrs. Hilary's widowhood. This moving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1343" id="Page_1343">[Pg 1343]</a></span> thought +occurring to her now caused her to glance in the direction of Mrs. +Pendleton's black dress and her face lightened. Mrs. Pendleton was of +another sort. Mrs. Pendleton had proved, as Mrs. Howard always expressed +it, "quite an acquisition to our circle." She felt almost an affection +for the merry, sociable talkative Southern woman, with her invariable +good spirits, her endless fund of appropriate platitude and her ready, +superficial sympathy. Mrs. Pendleton had "come" through a cousin of a +friend of a friend of Mrs. Howard's, and these vague links furnished +unlimited material for conversation between the two women. Mrs. +Pendleton was originally from Savannah, and the names which flowed in +profusion from her lips were of unimpeachable aristocracy. Pendleton was +a very "good name" in the South, Mrs. Howard had remarked to Elsie, and +went on to cite instances and associations.</p> + +<p>Besides those already mentioned, the household consisted of three old +maids, who had been with Mrs. Howard from her first year; a pensive art +student with "paintable" hair; a deaf old gentleman whose place at table +was marked by a bottle of lithia tablets; a chinless bank clerk, who had +jokes with the waitress, and a silent man who spoke only to request +food.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barlow occupied, and frankly enjoyed the place between Miss Elsie +and Mrs. Pendleton. He found the widow's easy witticisms, stock +anecdotes and hackneyed quotations of unfailing interest and her obvious +coquetry irresistible. Mr. Barlow took life and business in a most +un-American spirit of leisure. He never found fault with the food or the +heating arrangements, and never precipitated disagreeable arguments at +table. All things considered, he was probably the most contented spirit +in the house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1344" id="Page_1344">[Pg 1344]</a></span></p> + +<p>The talk at table revolved upon newspaper topics, the weather, the +health of the household, and a comparison of opinions about plays and +actresses. At election times it was strongly tinged with politics, and +on Sundays, popular preachers were introduced, with some expression as +to what was and was not good taste in the pulpit. Among the feminine +portion a fair amount of time was devoted to a review of the comparative +merits of shops.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pendleton's conversation, however, had a somewhat wider range, for +she had traveled. Just what topics were favored in those long undertone +conversations with Mr. Barlow only Elsie Howard could have told, as the +seat on the other side of the pair was occupied by the deaf old +gentleman. There were many covert glances and much suppressed laughter, +but neither of the two old maids opposite were able to catch the drift +of the low-voiced dialogue, so it remained a tantalizing mystery. Mrs. +Pendleton, when pleased to be general in her attentions, proved to be, +as Mrs. Howard had said, "an acquisition." She spoke most entertainingly +of Egypt, of Japan and Hawaii. Yet all these experiences seemed tinged +with a certain sadness, as they had evidently been associated with the +last days of the late Mr. Pendleton. They had crossed the Pyrenees when +"poor Mr. Pendleton was so ill he had to be carried every inch of the +way." In Egypt, "sometimes it seemed like he couldn't last another day. +But I always did say 'while there is life there is hope,'" she would +recall pensively, "and the doctors all said the only hope <i>for</i> his life +was in constant travel, and so we were always, as you might say, seeking +'fresh fields and pastures new.'"</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Howard's gentle eyes would fill with sympathy. "Poor Mrs. +Pendleton," she would often say to Elsie after one of these distressing +allusions. "How ter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1345" id="Page_1345">[Pg 1345]</a></span>rible it must have been. Think of seeing some one +you love dying that way, by inches before your eyes. She must have been +very fond of him, too. She always speaks of him with so much feeling."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Elsie with untranslatable intonation. "I wonder what he died +of."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," returned her mother regretfully. She had no curiosity, +but she had a refined and well-bred interest in diseases. "I never heard +her mention it and I didn't like to ask."</p> + +<p>"Poor Mrs. Howard," Mrs. Pendleton was wont to say with her facile +sympathy. "<i>So</i> hard for her to have to take strangers into her home. I +believe she was left without anything at her husband's death; mighty +hard for a woman at her age."</p> + +<p>"How long has her husband been dead?" the other boarder to whom she +spoke would sometimes inquire.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pendleton thought he must have been dead some time, although she +had never heard them say, exactly. "You never hear Elsie speak of him," +she added, "so I reckon she doesn't remember him right well."</p> + +<p>As the winter wore on the tendency to tête-à-tête between Mrs. Pendleton +and Mr. Barlow became more marked. They lingered nightly in the chilly +parlor in the glamour of the red lamp after the other guests had left. +It was discovered that they had twice gone to the theater together. The +art student had met them coming in late. As a topic of conversation +among the boarders the affair was more popular than food complaints. A +subtile atmosphere of understanding enveloped the two. It became so +marked at last that even Mrs. Hilary perceived it—although Elsie always +insisted that Gladys had told her.</p> + +<p>One afternoon in the spring, as Mrs. Pendleton was standing on the +door-step preparing to fit the latch-key<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1346" id="Page_1346">[Pg 1346]</a></span> into the lock, the door opened +and a man came out uproariously, followed by Gladys and Gwendolen, who, +in some inexplicable way, always had the effect of a crowd of children. +The man was tall and not ill-looking. Mrs. Pendleton was attired in +trailing black velveteen, a white feather boa, and a hat covered with +tossing plumes, and the hair underneath was aggressively golden. A +potential smile hovered about her lips and her glance lingered in +passing. Inside the house she bent a winning smile upon Gwendolen, who +was the less sophisticated of the two children.</p> + +<p>"Who's your caller, honey?"</p> + +<p>"That's the pater," replied Gwendolen with her mouth full of candy. "He +brought us some sweets. You may have one if you wish."</p> + +<p>"Your—your father," translated Mrs. Pendleton with a gasp. She was +obliged to lean against the wall for support.</p> + +<p>The twins nodded, their jaws locked with caramel.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't come very often," Gladys managed to get out indistinctly. "I +wish he would."</p> + +<p>"I suppose his business keeps him away," suggested Mrs. Pendleton.</p> + +<p>Gladys glanced up from a consideration of the respective attractions of +a chocolate cream and caramel.</p> + +<p>"He says it is incompatibility of humor," she repeated glibly. Gladys +was more than half American.</p> + +<p>"Of <i>humor</i>!" Mrs. Pendleton's face broke up into ripples of delight. +She flew at once to Mrs. Howard's private sitting room, arriving all out +of breath and exploded her bomb immediately.</p> + +<p>"My dear, did you know that Mrs. Hilary is <i>not</i> a widow?"</p> + +<p>"Not a widow!" repeated Mrs. Howard with dazed eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1347" id="Page_1347">[Pg 1347]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I met her husband right now at the door. He was telling the children +good-by. He isn't any more dead than I am."</p> + +<p>"Not dead!" repeated Mrs. Howard, collapsing upon the nearest chair with +all the prostration a news bearer's heart could desire. "And she was +always talking about what he <i>used</i> to do and <i>used</i> to think and <i>used</i> +to say. Why—why I can't believe it."</p> + +<p>"True as preachin'," declared Mrs. Pendleton, adding that you could have +knocked her down with a feather when she discovered it.</p> + +<p>Elsie Howard came into her mother's room just then and Mrs. Pendleton +repeated the exciting news, adding, "Gladys says they don't live +together because of incompatibility of humor!"</p> + +<p>Elsie smiled and remarked that it certainly was a justifiable ground for +separation and unkindly went off, leaving the subject undeveloped.</p> + +<p>The next day Mrs. Howard had a caller. It was the friend whose cousin +had a friend that had known Mrs. Pendleton. In the process of +conversation the caller remarked casually:</p> + +<p>"So Mrs. Pendleton has got her divorce at last."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard smiled vaguely and courteously.</p> + +<p>"Some connection of our Mrs. Pendleton? I don't think I have heard her +mention it. Dear me, isn't it dreadful how common divorce is getting to +be!"</p> + +<p>The guest stared.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say—why, my dear Mrs. Howard—is it <i>possible</i> you +don't know? It <i>is</i> your Mrs. Pendleton."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard remained looking at her friend. Once or twice her lips moved +but no words came.</p> + +<p>"Her husband is dead," she said at last, faintly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1348" id="Page_1348">[Pg 1348]</a></span></p> + +<p>The caller laughed. "Then he must have died yesterday. Why, didn't you +know that was the reason she spent last year in Colorado?"</p> + +<p>"For her husband's health," gasped Mrs. Howard, clinging to the last +shred of her six months' belief in Mrs. Pendleton's widowhood. "I always +had an impression that it was there he died."</p> + +<p>The other woman laughed heartlessly. "Did she tell you he was dead?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard collected her scattered faculties and tried to think.</p> + +<p>"No," she said at last. "Now that you speak of it, I don't believe she +ever did. But she certainly gave that impression. She seemed to be +always telling of his last illness and his last days. She never actually +mentioned the details of his death—but then, how could she—poor +thing?"</p> + +<p>"She couldn't, of course. That would have been asking too much." Mrs. +Howard's guest went off again into peals of unseemly laughter.</p> + +<p>When her caller had left, Mrs. Howard climbed up to the chilly skylight +room occupied by her daughter and dropped upon the bed, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Well, I never would have believed it of Mrs. Pendleton!"</p> + +<p>Elsie, who was standing before her mirror, regarded her mother in the +glass.</p> + +<p>"What's up. Has she eloped with Billie Barlow at last?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard tried to say it, but became inarticulate with emotion. After +five minutes of preamble and exclamation, her daughter was in possession +of the fact.</p> + +<p>"That explains about her hair," was Elsie's only comment. "I am so +relieved to have it settled at last."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1349" id="Page_1349">[Pg 1349]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why didn't she tell me?" wailed Mrs. Howard.</p> + +<p>"Oh, people don't always tell those things."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard was silent.</p> + +<p>As they passed the parlor door on their way down to dinner, Mrs. +Pendleton's merry laugh rang out and Elsie caught a glimpse of the +golden hair under the red lamp and the fugitive glimpse of Mr. Barlow's +bald spot.</p> + +<p>About two days later, as the girl came in from an afternoon's shopping, +and was on her way upstairs, her mother called to her. Something in the +sound of it attracted her attention. She hurried down the few steps and +into her mother's room. Mrs. Howard was sitting over by the window in +the fading light, with a strange look upon her face. An open telegram +lay in her lap. Elsie went up to her quickly.</p> + +<p>"What is it, mother?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard handed her the telegram.</p> + +<p>"Your father," she said.</p> + +<p>Elsie Howard read the simple announcement in silence. Then she looked +up, the last trace of an old bitterness in her faint smile.</p> + +<p>"We will miss him," she said.</p> + +<p>"Elsie!" cried her mother. It was a tone the girl had never heard from +her before. Her eyes fell.</p> + +<p>"No, it wasn't nice to say it. I am sorry. But I can't forget what life +was with him." She raised her eyes to her mother's. "It was simply hell, +mother; you can't have forgotten. You have said it yourself so often. We +can not deny that it is a relief to know—"</p> + +<p>"Hush, Elsie, never let me hear you say anything like that again."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, mother," said the girl with quick remorse. "I never will. I +don't think I have ever felt that death makes such things so different, +and I didn't realize how you would—look at it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1350" id="Page_1350">[Pg 1350]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My child, he was your father," said Mrs. Howard in a low voice. Then +Elsie saw the tears in her mother's eyes.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"<i>Such</i> a shock to her," Mrs. Pendleton murmured, sympathetically, to +Elsie. "I know, Miss Elsie; I can feel for her—" Elsie mechanically +thought of the last hours of Mr. Pendleton, then recalled herself with a +start. "Death always <i>is</i> a shock," Mrs. Pendleton finished gracefully, +"even when one most expects it. You must let me know if there is +anything I can do."</p> + +<p>Later in the evening she communicated the astonishing news to Mrs. +Hilary, who ejaculated freely: "Only fancy!" and "How very +extraordinary!"</p> + +<p>"Didn't you think he had been dead a hundred years?" exclaimed Mrs. +Pendleton.</p> + +<p>"One never can tell in the states," responded Mrs. Hilary +conservatively. "Divorce is so common over here. It isn't the thing at +all in England, you know."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pendleton stared.</p> + +<p>"But they were not divorced, only separated. Do you never do that—in +England?"</p> + +<p>"Divorced people are not received at court, you know," explained Mrs. +Hilary.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pendleton's glance lingered upon the Englishwoman's immobile face +and a laugh broke into her words.</p> + +<p>"But when you are in Rome, you do as the Romans—is that it, Mrs. +Hilary?" But the shot glanced off harmlessly from the thick armor of +British literalness.</p> + +<p>"In Rome divorce doesn't exist at all," she graciously informed her +companion. "The Romish church does not permit it, you know."</p> + +<p>The American woman looked at the Englishwoman more in sorrow than in +anger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1351" id="Page_1351">[Pg 1351]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How," she reflected, "is one to be revenged like a lady upon an +Englishwoman?"</p> + +<p>It was about a week later that Mrs. Pendleton, finding herself alone +with Mrs. Howard and Elsie, made the final announcement.</p> + +<p>"I hope you-all will be ready to dance at my wedding next month. It's +going to be very quiet, but I couldn't think of being married without +you and Miss Elsie—and Mr. Barlow, he feels just like I do about it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1352" id="Page_1352">[Pg 1352]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>WOMEN AND BARGAINS</h2> + +<h3>BY NINA R. ALLEN</h3> + + +<p>Show me the woman who in her heart of hearts does not delight in a +bargain, and I will tell you that she is a dead woman.</p> + +<p>I who write this, after having triumphantly passed bargain counters of +every description, untempted by ribbons worth twenty-five cents but +selling for nineteen, insensible to dimities that had sold for nineteen +cents but were offered at six and a fourth cents a yard, and—though I +have a weakness for good cooking utensils—blind to the attractions of a +copper tea-kettle whose former price was now cut in two, at last fell a +victim to a green-and-white wicker chair.</p> + +<p>This is how it happened. I asked the price. Eight dollars, replied the +shop-keeper. No. It was a ten-dollar chair. But he had said eight. It +was a mistake. Nevertheless he would keep his word. I could have it for +eight. What heart of woman could resist a bargain like this? Besides, I +thought such honesty ought to be encouraged. It is but too uncommon in +this wicked world. And—well, I really wanted the chair. How could a +woman help wanting it when she found that the salesman had made an error +of two dollars? It was a ten-dollar chair, the shop-keeper repeated. I +saw the tag marked "Lax, Jxxx Mxx." There could be no doubt of it.</p> + +<p>I gazed and gazed, but finally went on, like the seamen of Ulysses, +deafening myself to the siren-voice. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1353" id="Page_1353">[Pg 1353]</a></span> though I had hesitated, I +might not have been lost; but returning by the same route, I saw a +neighboring druggist rush into that store bareheaded, as I now suppose +to change a bill. Need I say that I then thought he had come for my +chair? Need I say that I then and there bought that chair?</p> + +<p>Thus have I brought shame on a judicious parent—not my mother—who has +conscientiously labored to teach me that the way of the bargain-hunter +is hard.</p> + +<p>As well might man attempt to deprive the cat of its mew or the dog of +its bark as to eliminate from the female breast the love of bargains. It +has been burned in with the centuries. Eve, poor soul, doubtless never +knew the happiness of swarming with other women round a big table piled +with remnants of rumpled table-linen, mis-mated towels and soiled +dresser-scarfs, or the pleasure of carrying off the bolt of last fall's +ribbon on which another woman had her eye; nor had she the proud +satisfaction of bringing home to her unfortunate partner a shirt with a +bosom like a checker-board, that had been marked down to sixty-three +cents. But history, since her day, is not lacking in bargains of various +kinds, of which woman has had her share, though no doubt Anniversary +Sales, Sensational Mill End Sales, and Railroad Wreck Sales are +comparatively modern.</p> + +<p>A woman's pleasure in a good bargain is akin to the rapture engendered +in the feminine bosom by successful smuggling. It is perhaps a purer +joy. The satisfaction of acquiring something one does not need, or of +buying an article which one may have some use for in the future, simply +because it is cheap or because Mrs. X. paid seventeen cents more for the +same thing at a bargain-sale, can not be understood by a mere man.</p> + +<p>Once in a while some stupid masculine creature en<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1354" id="Page_1354">[Pg 1354]</a></span>deavors to show his +wife that she is losing the use of her money by tying it up in +embroideries for decorating cotton which is still in the fields of the +South, or laying it out in summer dress-goods when snow-storms can not +be far distant. The use of her money forsooth! What is money for except +to spend? And if she didn't buy embroideries and dimities, she would +purchase something else with it.</p> + +<p>So she goes on hunting bargains, or rather profiting by those that come +in her way, for generally it is not necessary to search for them. These +little snares of the merchant are only too common in this age, when +everything from cruisers to clothes-pins and pianos to prunes may often +be had at a stupendous sacrifice.</p> + +<p>A man usually goes to a shop where he believes that he will run little +or no risk of being deceived in the quality of the goods, even though +prices be higher there than at some other places. A woman thinks she +knows a bargain when she sees it.</p> + +<p>She is aware that the store-keeper has craftily spread his web of +bargains, hoping that when lured into his shop she will buy other things +not bargains. But she determines beforehand that she will not be cajoled +into purchasing anything but the particular bargain of her +desire,—unless—unless she sees something else which she really wants. +And generally, she sees something else which she really wants.</p> + +<p>Most women are tolerably good judges of a bargain, and therefore have +some ground for their confidence in themselves. I have seen a Christmas +bargain-table containing china and small ornaments of various wares, +completely honeycombed of its actual bargains by veteran +bargain-hunters, who left unpurchased as if by instinct goods from the +regular stock, offered at usual prices.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1355" id="Page_1355">[Pg 1355]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bargains are a boon to the woman of moderate means. The deepest joys of +bargain-hunting are not known to the rich, though they by no means +disdain a bargain. To them is not given the delight of saving long, and +waiting for a bargain sale, and at last possessing the thin white china +or net curtains ardently desired and still out of reach at regular +prices. But they have some compensation. They have the advantage not +only of ready money, which makes a bargain available at any time, but +also that of leisure.</p> + +<p>While my lady of the slender purse is still getting the children ready +for school, or exhorting Bridget not to burn the steak that will be +entrusted to her tender mercies, they can swoop down upon a bargain and +bear it away victoriously.</p> + +<p>A fondness for bargains is not without its dangers, for with some people +the appetite grows with what it feeds on, to the detriment of their +purses as well as of their outlook on life. To them, all the world +becomes a bargain-counter.</p> + +<p>A few years ago in a city which shall be nameless, two women looked into +the windows of a piano-store. In one, was an ancient instrument marked +"1796"; in the other, a beautiful modern piano labeled "1896." "Why," +said one of the gazers to her companion, indicating the latter, "I'd a +good deal rather pay the difference for this one, wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>This is no wild invention of fiction, but a bald fact. So strong had the +ruling passion become in that feminine heart.</p> + +<p>Upon a friend of mine, the bargain habit has taken so powerful a hold +that almost any sort of a bargain appeals to her. She is the owner of a +fine parrot, yet not long ago she bought another, which had cost fifteen +dollars,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1356" id="Page_1356">[Pg 1356]</a></span> but was offered to her for ten. Its feathers were bedraggled +and grimy, for it had followed its mistress about like a dog; it proved +to be so cross that at first it had to be fed from the end of a stick; +and though represented as a brilliant talker, its discourse was found to +be limited to "Wow!" and "Rah! Rah!"—but it was a bargain.</p> + +<p>To be sure, she didn't really need two parrots, but had she not saved +five dollars on this one?</p> + +<p>The most elusive kind of bargain is that set forth in alluring +advertisements as a small lot, perhaps three, four, or two dozen +articles of a kind, offered at a price unprecedentedly low.</p> + +<p>When you reach the store, you are generally told that they—whatever +they may be—are all gone. The other woman so often arrives earlier than +you, apparently, that finally you come to doubt their existence.</p> + +<p>Once in a while, if you are eminent among your fellows by some gift of +nature, as is an acquaintance of mine, you may chase down one of these +will-o'-the-wisps.</p> + +<p>He—yes, it is he, for what woman would own to a number ten foot even +for the sake of a bargain?—saw a fire sale advertised, with men's shoes +offered at a dollar a pair. He went to the store. Sure enough, a fire +had occurred somewhere, but not there. It was sufficiently near, +however, for a fire sale.</p> + +<p>A solitary box was brought out, whose edges were scorched, as by a match +passed over them; within was a pair of number ten shoes. Number tens +alone, whether one pair or more, I wot not, represented their gigantic +fire sale. And I can not say how many men had come only to be confronted +with tens, before this masculine Cinderella triumphantly filled their +capacious maws with his number ten feet, and gleefully carried off what +may have been the only bargain in the shop.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1357" id="Page_1357">[Pg 1357]</a></span></p> + +<p>In spite of the suspicions of some doubting Thomases who regard all +bargains as snares and delusions, it is certain that many real bargains +are offered among the numerous things advertised as such; but to profit +by them, I may add, one must have an aptitude, either natural or +acquired, for bargains.</p> + +<p>P.S.—I have just learned that my wicker chair would not have been very +cheap at six dollars.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1358" id="Page_1358">[Pg 1358]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>FABLE</h2> + +<h3>BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mountain and the squirrel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had a quarrel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the former called the latter "Little Prig";<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bun replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"You are doubtless very big;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all sorts of things and weather<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must be taken in together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make up a year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I think it no disgrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To occupy my place.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I'm not so large as you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are not so small as I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not half so spry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll not deny you make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A very pretty squirrel track;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I can not carry forests on my back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither can you crack a nut."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1359" id="Page_1359">[Pg 1359]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE WOMAN-HATER REFORMED</h2> + +<h3>BY ROY FARRELL GREENE</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He said to sue for maiden's heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hand required too much of art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In framing phrases, making pleas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swearing vows on bended knees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Till death (or court decree) doth part."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One's oh, so apt to get the cart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the horse, and at the start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Break down. It's torture by degrees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He said, to sue!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet when sweet Susan, coy but smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe landed him, and Cupid's dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went through his breast as through a cheese,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pierced his heart with perfect ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He—well, I'll not the words impart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He said to Sue!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1360" id="Page_1360">[Pg 1360]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>HOW MR. TERRAPIN LOST HIS PLUMAGE AND WHISTLE</h2> + +<h3>BY ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON</h3> + + +<p>"Well," said Janey, as Aunt 'Phrony finished telling of the loss of Mr. +Terrapin's beard, "I saw a terrapin the other day, and it didn't look as +though it ever had had a beard or wattles. I thought it was real ugly."</p> + +<p>"Law, chil'," answered the story-teller, "you kain't tell w'at one'r +dese yer creeturs bin in de times pas' jes' by lookin' at 'em now. W'y, +de day's bin w'en ol' man Tarr'pin wuz plumb harnsum. He done bin trick' +out er mo'n jes' his by'ud an' wattles, I kin tell you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please <i>do</i> tell us!" cried Janey, and little Kit came and leaned +on her knees and looked up into her face and echoed, "'Es, please to +tell us."</p> + +<p>Thus besieged, Aunt 'Phrony consented to tell how the Terrapin lost his +plumage and his whistle.</p> + +<p>"I done tol' you," said she. "Tarr'pin wuz onct a harnsum man, an' dat +de sho'-'nuff trufe, fer he had nice, sof' fedders all over his body an' +a fine, big, spreadin' tail, an' his eyes wuz mighty bright an' his +voice wuz de cle'res' whustle you uver yearn. He wuz a gre't man in dem +days, I tell you <i>dat</i>, an' his house wuz chock full er all sorts er +fine fixin's. He had sof' furs ter set on an' long strings er shells fer +money, an clo'es all imbroider' wid dyed pokkypine quills, an' he had +spears an' bows an' arrers an' deer-hawns, an' I dunno w'at all sidesen +dat.</p> + +<p>"In dem days de Quail wuz a homely, no-kyount cree<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1361" id="Page_1361">[Pg 1361]</a></span>tur, wid sca'cely any +fedders, an' a shawt, stumpy tail, an' no voice wuf speakin' uv. He wuz +po', too, an' nob'dy tuck much notuss uv him, jes' call him 'dat 'ar ol' +Bob White,' an' he go wannerin' up an' down de kyountry all by his +lonesome.</p> + +<p>"One day he come 'long pas' Mistah Tarr'pin's house, an' he peek in thu +de do', he did, an' w'en he see all de fine doin's, seem lak he kain't +tek his eye 'way f'um de crack. Den he seed Tarr'pin comin' down de road +home, an' he 'low ter hisse'f, he did, dat dish yer de harnsumes' man +w'at he uver seed, an' he be puffickly sassified ef he cu'd look jes' +lak dat. He git mo' an' mo' enviable uv 'im an' tuck ter hangin' 'roun' +de naberhood, peekin' an' peerin' in at Tarr'pin w'enuver he git de +chanct. Las' he say ter hisse'f dat he jes' natchully 'bleeged ter have +dem fedders an' tail an' whustle, but he ain' knowin' jes' how ter git +'em, so he g'long off ter ax de he'p uv a wise ol' Wolf whar live 'way, +'way up on de mountain an' whar wuz one'r dem cunjerers I done tol' you +'bout. Ez he went 'long he wuz fixin' up a tale ter tell Wolf, an' w'en +he git ter de kyave whar de cunjerer live he knock an' Wolf 'spon', +'Come in!' in sech a deep, growly voice dat li'l Quail felt kind er +skeery, an' he feel mo' skeery yit w'en he go hoppin' in an' see Wolf +settin' dar wid bones strowed all roun' him, an' showin' dem long, white +toofs er his ev'y time he open his mouf. But he perch hisse'f up in +front er Wolf, an' he say in a voice dat wuz right trim'ly, 'Howdy, +Uncle Wolf, howdy! I done comed all de way up yer ter ax yo' he'p, 'kase +I knows dar ain' nair' nu'rr man on dis mountain whar knows half ez much +ez w'at you does. Please, suh, tell me w'at ter do.'</p> + +<p>"'Bob White, you is a li'l ol' fool,' sez Wolf, sezee, 'how kin I tell +you w'at ter do w'en you ain' tol' me w'at 'tis you wants?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1362" id="Page_1362">[Pg 1362]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Den Quail he git li'l mo' pearter, an' he try ter mek Wolf feel +please', so he say, 'Laws-a-mussy! Uncle Wolf, I done fergit dat, but I +reckon I do so 'kase you is dat smart I thought you mought know widout +me tellin'.'</p> + +<p>"'Drap dat foolishness,' sez Wolf, sezee, 'an' lemme know w'at you comed +atter.' But all de same he wan't too smart ner too ol' ter feel please' +wid de flatt'ry; show me de man whar is; lots uv 'em gits ketched by +dat, nuttin' mo' ner less," and here Aunt 'Phrony cast a scornful glance +at Nancy, who answered it by a toss of the head.</p> + +<p>"Well, den," she resumed, "Quail start inter de meanness he bin hatchin' +up, an' he say, sezee, 'Uncle Wolf, deys a man down dar below whar +gittin' ter be dangersome. He's rich an' goodlookin', an' a gre't chieft +an' a sho'-'nuff fighter, an' he kin do 'bout w'at he please wid tu'rr +creeturs. A man lak dat boun' ter wu'k mischief. Now, suh, ef you sesso, +'pears ter me hit be mighty good notion ter tek 'way his good looks an' +dat pleasin' voice whar he uses ter 'suade de people wid, an' gin 'em +ter some er de quiet an' peace'ble folks whar ain' all de time stickin' +derse'fs ter de front an' tryin' ter lead de people. Now yer I is, you +bin knowin' me dis good w'ile, an' you knows my numbility an' +submissity, an' ef you mek me de one ter do de deed an' den give me de +fixin's fer my trouble, I gwine feel dat I kain't ve'y well refuge 'em.' +Right dar he putt his haid on one side an' look up at Wolf mighty meek +an' innercent.</p> + +<p>"Wolf he say he gwine think 'bout hit, an' he tell Quail ter come back +in seven days an' git de arnser. So Quail he go hippitty-hoppin' down de +mountains, thinkin' he bin mighty smart, an' wunnerin' ef he kin stan' +hit ter wait seven mo' days befo' he rob po' ol' Tarr'pin.</p> + +<p>"Wolf he went off higher yit, ter de top er de mountain fer ter ax de +'pinion er seven urr wolfs mo' older<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1363" id="Page_1363">[Pg 1363]</a></span> an' wiser dan w'at he wuz. Dey +talked an' dey 'sputed toge'rr fer seven days an' nights. Den Wolf came +back an' Quail made has'e up ter see him ag'in. He say Quail mus' go ter +Tarr'pin's house at midnight an' do jes' lak he tell 'im to, er hit be +wusser fer him, stidder better. Quail lissen an' say he gwine do jes' +lak he tell 'im, an' wid dat he g'long off. Jes' at de stroke er +midnight, w'en de bats wuz a-flyin' an' de squinch-owls hootin' an' de +jacky-my-lanturns trabellin' up an' down, he knock on Mistah Tarr'pin's +do' an' gin out dat he wuz a trabeller whar comed a fur ways an' wuz +pow'ful tired an' hongry.</p> + +<p>"Tarr'pin wuz a kin' man, so he 'vited him in an' gin him sump'n ter eat +an' drink an' made him set down on de sof' furs, 'kase he felt saw'y fer +any pusson so po' an' ugly ez w'at Quail wuz. Den he say, 'You mus' be +tired atter yo' journeyin', lemme rub you a w'iles.' He rub de ugly, +rough creetur fer so long time, an' den Quail sez, sezee, 'You sut'n'y +is kin', but I ain' wanter tire you out. I is res'ed now, so please, +suh, ter lemme rub <i>you</i> a li'l.' He rub an' he rub Tarr'pin wid one +han', an' all de time he wuz rubbin' hisse'f wid de urr. Dat-a-way he +rub all de fedders offen Tarr'pin onter his own se'f. Den he rub down +Tarr'pin's tail 'twel 'twan't nuttin' but a li'l roun', sharp-p'inted +stump, an' at de same time he wuz rubbin' his own tail wid tu'rr han' +an' puttin' Tarr'pin's fine, spreadin' tail onter his own li'l stump. +Hit wuz plumb dark, so't Mistah Tarr'pin ain' see w'at bin done, an' +sidesen dat he wuz pow'ful sleepy fum de rubbin'. Den Quail say he +'bleeged ter lay down 'kase he mus' git him a early start in de mawnin'.</p> + +<p>"Befo' sun-up he wuz stirrin' an' he say he mus' be gittin' 'long. +Tarr'pin go ter de do' wid him an' den Quail say, sezee, 'Mistah +Tarr'pin, I year you has a monst'ous fine whustle, I lak mighty well ter +year hit befo' I go.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1364" id="Page_1364">[Pg 1364]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'W'y sut'n'y,' sez de Tarr'pin, sezee, an' wid dat he whustle long an' +loud. Quail lissen at him wid all his years, an' den he say: 'Well, dog +my cats, ef I ain' beat! Yo' voice is de prezack match er mine.</p> + +<p>"'You don't sesso! lemme year you whustle,' sez Tarr'pin, sezee.</p> + +<p>"'Dat I will,' sez Quail, 'but lemme go off li'l ways an' show you how +fer I kin mek myse'f yearn,' sezee. He sesso 'kase he'z gittin' mighty +'feerd dat Tarr'pin gwine fin' out his fedders wuz gone. So he go 'way +off inter de bushes an' whustle, an' sho' nuff, 'twuz jes' lak Mistah +Tarr'pin's voice. Den Tarr'pin try ter whustle back, but lo, beholst +you! his voice clean gone, nuttin' lef' but a li'l hiss, an' hit done +stay dat-a-way clean ontwel dis day. 'Twuz gittin' daylight, an' he look +down uv a suddint an' dar he wuz! wid nair' a smidgin' uv a fedder on +his back. He feel so bad he go inter de house an' cry ontwel his eyes +wuz so raid dat dey stayed dat-a-way uver sence.</p> + +<p>"Den Mis' Tarr'pin she say, 'Is you a chieft, er is you a ol' ooman? +Whyn't you go atter dat man an' gin him a lambastin' an' git back w'at +b'long to you?' He feel kind er 'shame', so he pull hisse'f toge'rr an' +go out ter see w'at he kin do. 'Fo' long he fin' out dat de cunjerers +bin at wu'k, so he know he gotter have he'p, an' he go an' git all tu'rr +tarr'pins ter he'p him. Dey went ter de ol' wolfs, de cunjerers, an' dey +ses: 'We is a slow people an' you is a swif people, but nemmine dat, we +dyar's you-all to a race, an' ef you-all wins, den you kin kill we-all; +an' ef we-all wins, den we gwine exescoot you. An' ef you ain't dast ter +tek up dis dyar', den ev'yb'dy gwine know you is cowerds.'</p> + +<p>"Co'se de wolfs tucken de dyar' up, an' hit wuz 'greed de race wuz ter +be over seben mountain ridges, an' dat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1365" id="Page_1365">[Pg 1365]</a></span> hit wuz ter be run 'twix' one +wolf an' one tarr'pin, de res' ter look on.</p> + +<p>"Wen de day come, ol' Tarr'pin he tuck an' fix up dis trick; he git six +urr tarr'pins whar look jes' lak him, an' he hide one away in de bresh +on top uv each er de six mountains, an' he hide hisse'f away on top er +de sebent'. Jes' befo' Wolf git ter de top er de fus' mountain, de +tarr'pin whar wuz hidin' dar crawl outen de bresh an' git ter de top +fus' an' gin a whoop, an' went over a li'l ways an' hid in de bresh +ag'in. Wolf think dat mighty cur'ous, but he keep on, an' 'twuz jesso at +ev'y one, an' at de las' ridge co'se Tarr'pin jes' walk hisse'f outen de +bresh an' gin a gre't whoop ter let ev'yb'dy know he done won de race.</p> + +<p>"Den de tarr'pins mek up der min's ter kill de wolfs by fire, so dey pen +'em all in a big kyave on de mountain an' dey bring bresh an' wood an' +pile in front uv hit, a pile mos' ez high ez de mountain, an' den dey +set fire to hit, an' de wolfs howl an' de fire hit spit an' sputter an' +hiss an' crack an' roar, an' all de creeturs on de mountain set up a big +cry an' run dis-a-way an' dat ter git outen de fire; dey wuz plumb +'stracted, an' hit soun' lak all de wil' beas'es in creation wuz turnt +aloose an' tryin' w'ich kin yell de loudes'. But de tarr'pins jes' drord +inter der shells an' sot dar safe an' soun', an' watched de fire burn +an' de smoke an' de flame rollin' inter de kyave.</p> + +<p>"De wolfs dey howled an' dey howled <i>an'</i> dey howled, an' de li'l ones +dey cried an' dey cried <i>an'</i> dey cried, an' las' de ol' ones felt so +bad 'bout de chillen dat dey 'gun ter kill 'em off so's't dey ain' +suffer no mo'. Wen de tarr'pins see dat, dey wuz saw'y, an' dey mek up +der min's ter let de res' off, so dey turnt 'em aloose f'um de kyave. +But lots uv 'em had died in dar, an' dat huccome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1366" id="Page_1366">[Pg 1366]</a></span> dar ain' so many wolfs +now ez dey useter be. Some wuz nearer ter de fire dan tu'rrs an' got +swinged, an' some got smoked black, an' dat w'y, ontwel dis day, some +wolfs is black an' some gray an' some white, an' some has longer, +bushier tails dan tu'rrs. Dey got so hoarse wid all dat cryin' dat der +voices bin nuttin' but a howl uver sence.</p> + +<p>"Quail he year w'at gwine on, an' he tucken hisse'f outen dat kyountry +fas' ez his laigs cu'd kyar' him, so Tarr'pin nuver got back de fedders +ner de whustle, an' ef you goes out inter de fiel' mos' any day you kin +see Quail gwine roun' in de stolen fedders an' year him whustle:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza italic"> +<span class="i0">'Bob White, do right! do right!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do right! do right, Bob White!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>jes' ez sassy ez ef <i>he</i> bin doin' right all his days, an' ez ef he bin +raised wid dat voice stidder stealin' hit way f'um ol' man Tarr'pin."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1367" id="Page_1367">[Pg 1367]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BY BAY AND SEA</h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The little rills of poesie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That flow from Helicon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes escape into the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rest there all unknown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While others, finding surer guides,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fall into happier ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And go to swell the rising tides<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That make the Poet's bays.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1368" id="Page_1368">[Pg 1368]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BILL NATIONS</h2> + +<h3>BY BILL ARP</h3> + + +<p>You never knowd Bill, I rekun. Hes gone to Arkensaw, and I don't +know whether hes ded or alive. He was a good feller, Bill was, as +most all whisky drinkers are. Me and him both used to love it +powerful—especially Bill. We soaked it when we could git it, and when +we coudent we hankered after it amazingly. I must tell you a little +antidote on Bill, tho I dident start to tell you about that.</p> + +<p>We started on a little jurney one day in June, and took along a bottle +of "old rye," and there was so many springs and wells on the road that +it was mighty nigh gone before dinner. We took our snack, and Bill +drained the last drop, for he said we would soon git to Joe Paxton's, +and that Joe always kept some.</p> + +<p>Shore enuff Joe dident have a drop, and we concluded, as we was mighty +dry, to go on to Jim Alford's, and stay all night. We knew that Jim had +it, for he always had it. So we whipped up, and the old Bay had to +travel, for I tell you when a man wants whiskey everything has to bend +to the gittin' of it. Shore enuff Jim had some. He was mity glad to see +us, and he knowd what we wanted, for he knowd how it was hisself. So he +brought out an old-fashend glass decanter, and a shugar bowl, and a +tumbler, and a spoon, and says he, "Now, boys, jest wait a minit till +you git rested sorter, for it ain't good to take whiskey on a hot +stomack. I've jest been readin' a piece<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1369" id="Page_1369">[Pg 1369]</a></span> in Grady's newspaper about a +frog—the darndest frog that perhaps ever come from a tadpole. It was +found up in Kanetucky, and is as big as a peck measure. Bill, do you +take this paper and read it aloud to us. I'm a poor hand to read, and I +want to hear it. I'll be hanged if it ain't the darndest frog I ever +hearn of." He laid the paper on my knees, and I begun to read, thinkin' +it was a little short anticdote, but as I turned the paper over I found +it was mighty nigh a column. I took a side glance at Bill, and I saw the +little dry twitches a jumpin' about on his countenance. He was mighty +nigh dead for a drink. I warent so bad off myself, and I was about half +mad with him for drainin' the bottle before dinner; so I just read along +slow, and stopped two or three times to clear my throat just to consume +time. Pretty soon Bill got up and commenced walkin' about, and he would +look at the dekanter like he would give his daylights to choke the corn +juice out of it. I read along slowly. Old Alford was a listnin' and +chawin' his tobakker and spittin' out of the door. Bill come up to me, +his face red and twitchin', and leanin' over my shoulder he seed the +length of the story, and I will never forgit his pitiful tone as he +whispered, "Skip some, Bill, for heaven's sake skip some."</p> + +<p>My heart relented, and I did skip some, and hurried through, and we all +jined in a drink; but I'll never forgit how Bill looked when he +whispered to me to "skip some, Bill, skip some." I've got over the like +of that, boys, and I hope Bill has, too, but I don't know. I wish in my +soul that everybody had quit it, for you may talk about slavery, and +penitentiary, and chain-gangs, and the Yankees, and General Grant, and a +devil of a wife, but whiskey is the worst master that ever a man had +over him. I know how it is myself.</p> + +<p>But there is one good thing about drinkin'. I almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1370" id="Page_1370">[Pg 1370]</a></span> wish every man was +a reformed drunkard. No man who hasn't drank liker knows what a luxury +cold water is. I have got up in the night in cold wether after I had +been spreein' around, and gone to the well burnin' up with thirst, +feeling like the gallows, and the grave, and the infernal regions was +too good for me, and when I took up the bucket in my hands, and with my +elbows a tremblin' like I had the shakin' ager, put the water to my +lips; it was the most delicious, satisfyin', luxurius draft that ever +went down my throat. I have stood there and drank and drank until I +could drink no more, and gone back to bed thankin' God for the pure, +innocent, and coolin' beverig, and cursin' myself from my inmost soul +for ever touchin' the accursed whisky. In my torture of mind and body I +have made vows and promises, and broken 'em within a day. But if you +want to know the luxury of cold water, get drunk, and keep at it until +you get on fire, and then try a bucket full with your shirt on at the +well in the middle of the night. You won't want a gourd full—you'll +feel like the bucket ain't big enuf, and when you begin to drink an +earthquake couldn't stop you. My fathers, how good it was! I know a +hundred men who will swear to the truth of what I say: but you see its a +thing they don't like to talk about. It's too humiliatin'.</p> + +<p>But I dident start to talk about drinkin'. In fact, I've forgot what I +did start to tell you. My mind is sorter addled now a days, anyhow, and +I hav to jes let my tawkin' tumble out permiskuous. I'll take another +whet at it afore long, and fill up the gaps.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1371" id="Page_1371">[Pg 1371]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET</h2> + +<h3>BY EDWARD EVERETT HALE</h3> + +<h4>(This paper was first published in the <i>Galaxy</i>, in 1866.)</h4> + + +<p>I see that an old chum of mine is publishing bits of confidential +Confederate History in Harper's Magazine. It would seem to be time, +then, for the pivots to be disclosed on which some of the wheelwork of +the last six years has been moving. The science of history, as I +understand it, depends on the timely disclosure of such pivots, which +are apt to be kept out of view while things are moving.</p> + +<p>I was in the Civil Service at Richmond. Why I was there, or what I did, +is nobody's affair. And I do not in this paper propose to tell how it +happened that I was in New York in October, 1864, on confidential +business. Enough that I was there, and that it was honest business. That +business done, as far as it could be with the resources intrusted to me, +I prepared to return home. And thereby hangs this tale, and, as it +proved, the fate of the Confederacy.</p> + +<p>For, of course, I wanted to take presents home to my family. Very little +question was there what these presents should be,—for I had no boys nor +brothers. The women of the Confederacy had one want, which overtopped +all others. They could make coffee out of beans; pins they had from +Columbus; straw hats they braided quite well with their own fair hands; +snuff we could get better than you could in "the old concern." But we +had no hoop-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1372" id="Page_1372">[Pg 1372]</a></span>skirts,—skeletons, we used to call them. No ingenuity had +made them. No bounties had forced them. The Bat, the Greyhound, the +Deer, the Flora, the J.C. Cobb, the Varuna, and the Fore-and-Aft all +took in cargoes of them for us in England. But the Bat and the Deer and +the Flora were seized by the blockaders, the J.C. Cobb sunk at sea, the +Fore-and-Aft and the Greyhound were set fire to by their own crews, and +the Varuna (our Varuna) was never heard of. Then the State of Arkansas +offered sixteen townships of swamp land to the first manufacturer who +would exhibit five gross of a home-manufactured article. But no one ever +competed. The first attempts, indeed, were put to an end, when Schofield +crossed the Blue Lick, and destroyed the dams on Yellow Branch. The +consequence was, that people's crinolines collapsed faster than the +Confederacy did, of which that brute of a Grierson said there was never +anything of it but the outside.</p> + +<p>Of course, then, I put in the bottom of my new large trunk in New York, +not a "duplex elliptic," for none were then made, but a "Belmonte," of +thirty springs, for my wife. I bought, for her more common wear, a good +"Belle-Fontaine." For Sarah and Susy each I got two "Dumb-Belles." For +Aunt Eunice and Aunt Clara, maiden sisters of my wife, who lived with us +after Winchester fell the fourth time, I got the "Scotch Harebell," two +of each. For my own mother I got one "Belle of the Prairies" and one +"Invisible Combination Gossamer." I did not forget good old Mamma Chloe +and Mamma Jane. For them I got substantial cages, without names. With +these, tied in the shapes of figure eights in the bottom of my trunk, as +I said, I put in an assorted cargo of dry-goods above, and, favored by a +pass, and Major Mulford's courtesy on the flag-of-truce boat, I arrived +safely at Richmond before the autumn closed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1373" id="Page_1373">[Pg 1373]</a></span></p> + +<p>I was received at home with rapture. But when, the next morning, I +opened my stores, this became rapture doubly enraptured. Words can not +tell the silent delight with which old and young, black and white, +surveyed these fairy-like structures, yet unbroken and unmended.</p> + +<p>Perennial summer reigned that autumn day in that reunited family. It +reigned the next day, and the next. It would have reigned till now if +the Belmontes and the other things would last as long as the +advertisements declare; and, what is more, the Confederacy would have +reigned till now, President Davis and General Lee! but for that great +misery, which all families understand, which culminated in our great +misfortune.</p> + +<p>I was up in the cedar closet one day, looking for an old parade cap of +mine, which, I thought, though it was my third best, might look better +than my second best, which I had worn ever since my best was lost at the +Seven Pines. I say I was standing on the lower shelf of the cedar +closet, when, as I stepped along in the darkness, my right foot caught +in a bit of wire, my left did not give way in time, and I fell, with a +small wooden hat-box in my hand, full on the floor. The corner of the +hat-box struck me just below the second frontal sinus, and I fainted +away.</p> + +<p>When I came to myself I was in the blue chamber; I had vinegar on a +brown paper on my forehead; the room was dark, and I found mother +sitting by me, glad enough indeed to hear my voice, and to know that I +knew her. It was some time before I fully understood what had happened. +Then she brought me a cup of tea, and I, quite refreshed, said I must go +to the office.</p> + +<p>"Office, my child!" said she. "Your leg is broken above the ankle; you +will not move these six weeks. Where do you suppose you are?"</p> + +<p>Till then I had no notion that it was five minutes since<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1374" id="Page_1374">[Pg 1374]</a></span> I went into +the closet. When she told me the time, five in the afternoon, I groaned +in the lowest depths. For, in my breast pocket in that innocent coat, +which I could now see lying on the window-seat, were the duplicate +despatches to Mr. Mason, for which, late the night before, I had got the +Secretary's signature. They were to go at ten that morning to +Wilmington, by the Navy Department's special messenger. I had taken them +to insure care and certainty. I had worked on them till midnight, and +they had not been signed till near one o'clock. Heavens and earth, and +here it was five o'clock! The man must be half-way to Wilmington by this +time. I sent the doctor for Lafarge, my clerk. Lafarge did his prettiest +in rushing to the telegraph. But no! A freshet on the Chowan River, or a +raid by Foster, or something, or nothing, had smashed the telegraph wire +for that night. And before that despatch ever reached Wilmington the +navy agent was in the offing in the Sea Maid.</p> + +<p>"But perhaps the duplicate got through?" No, breathless reader, the +duplicate did not get through. The duplicate was taken by Faucon, in the +Ino. I saw it last week in Dr. Lieber's hands, in Washington. Well, all +I know is, that if the duplicate had got through, the Confederate +government would have had in March a chance at eighty-three thousand two +hundred and eleven muskets, which, as it was, never left Belgium. So +much for my treading into that blessed piece of wire on the shelf of the +cedar closet, up stairs.</p> + +<p>"What was the bit of wire?"</p> + +<p>Well, it was not telegraph wire. If it had been, it would have broken +when it was not wanted to. Don't you know what it was? Go up in your own +cedar closet, and step about in the dark, and see what brings up round +your ankles. Julia, poor child, cried her eyes out about it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1375" id="Page_1375">[Pg 1375]</a></span> When I got +well enough to sit up, and as soon as I could talk and plan with her, +she brought down seven of these old things, antiquated Belmontes and +Simplex Elliptics, and horrors without a name, and she made a pile of +them in the bedroom, and asked me in the most penitent way what she +should do with them.</p> + +<p>"You can't burn them," said she; "fire won't touch them. If you bury +them in the garden, they come up at the second raking. If you give them +to the servants, they say, 'Thank-e, missus,' and throw them in the back +passage. If you give them to the poor, they throw them into the street +in front, and do not say, 'Thank-e.' Sarah sent seventeen over to the +sword factory, and the foreman swore at the boy, and told him he would +flog him within an inch of his life if he brought any more of his sauce +there; and so—and so," sobbed the poor child, "I just rolled up these +wretched things, and laid them in the cedar closet, hoping, you know, +that some day the government would want something, and would advertise +for them. You know what a good thing I made out of the bottle corks."</p> + +<p>In fact, she had sold our bottle corks for four thousand two hundred and +sixteen dollars of the first issue. We afterward bought two umbrellas +and a cork-screw with the money.</p> + +<p>Well, I did not scold Julia. It was certainly no fault of hers that I +was walking on the lower shelf of her cedar closet. I told her to make a +parcel of the things, and the first time we went to drive I hove the +whole shapeless heap into the river, without saying mass for them.</p> + +<p>But let no man think, or no woman, that this was the end of troubles. As +I look back on that winter, and on the spring of 1865 (I do not mean the +steel spring), it seems to me only the beginning. I got out on crutches +at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1376" id="Page_1376">[Pg 1376]</a></span> last; I had the office transferred to my house, so that Lafarge and +Hepburn could work there nights, and communicate with me when I could +not go out; but mornings I hobbled up to the Department, and sat with +the Chief, and took his orders. Ah me! shall I soon forget that damp +winter morning, when we all had such hope at the office. One or two of +the army fellows looked in at the window as they ran by, and we knew +that they felt well; and though I would not ask Old Wick, as we had +nicknamed the Chief, what was in the wind, I knew the time had come, and +that the lion meant to break the net this time. I made an excuse to go +home earlier than usual; rode down to the house in the Major's +ambulance, I remember; and hopped in, to surprise Julia with the good +news, only to find that the whole house was in that quiet uproar which +shows that something bad has happened of a sudden.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Chloe?" said I, as the old wench rushed by me with a bucket +of water.</p> + +<p>"Poor Mr. George, I 'fraid he's dead, sah!"</p> + +<p>And there he really was,—dear handsome, bright George Schaff,—the +delight of all the nicest girls of Richmond; he lay there on Aunt +Eunice's bed on the ground floor, where they had brought him in. He was +not dead,—and he did not die. He is making cotton in Texas now. But he +looked mighty near it then. "The deep cut in his head" was the worst I +then had ever seen, and the blow confused everything. When McGregor got +round, he said it was not hopeless; but we were all turned out of the +room, and with one thing and another he got the boy out of the swoon, +and somehow it proved his head was not broken.</p> + +<p>No, but poor George swears to this day it were better it had been, if it +could only have been broken the right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1377" id="Page_1377">[Pg 1377]</a></span> way and on the right field. For +that evening we heard that everything had gone wrong in the surprise. +There we had been waiting for one of those early fogs, and at last the +fog had come. And Jubal Early had, that morning, pushed out every man he +had, that could stand; and they lay hid for three mortal hours, within I +don't know how near the picket line at Fort Powhatan, only waiting for +the shot which John Streight's party were to fire at Wilson's Wharf, as +soon as somebody on our left centre advanced in force on the enemy's +line above Turkey Island stretching across to Nansemond. I am not in the +War Department, and I forget whether he was to advance <i>en barbette</i> or +by <i>échelon</i> of infantry. But he was to advance somehow, and he knew +how; and when he advanced, you see, that other man lower down was to +rush in, and as soon as Early heard him he was to surprise Powhatan, you +see; and then, if you have understood me, Grant and Butler and the whole +rig of them would have been cut off from their supplies, would have had +to fight a battle for which they were not prepared, with their right +made into a new left, and their old left unexpectedly advanced at an +oblique angle from their centre, and would not that have been the end of +them?</p> + +<p>Well, that never happened. And the reason it never happened was, that +poor George Schaff, with the last fatal order for this man whose name I +forget (the same who was afterward killed the day before High Bridge), +undertook to save time by cutting across behind my house, from Franklin +to Green Streets. You know how much time he saved,—they waited all day +for that order. George told me afterward that the last thing he +remembered was kissing his hand to Julia, who sat at her bedroom window. +He said he thought she might be the last woman he ever saw this side of +heaven. Just after that,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1378" id="Page_1378">[Pg 1378]</a></span> it must have been, his horse—that white +Messenger colt old Williams bred—went over like a log, and poor George +was pitched fifteen feet head-foremost against a stake there was in that +lot. Julia saw the whole. She rushed out with all the women, and had +just brought him in when I got home. And that was the reason that the +great promised combination of December, 1864, never came off at all.</p> + +<p>I walked out in the lot, after McGregor turned me out of the chamber, to +see what they had done with the horse. There he lay, as dead as old +Messenger himself. His neck was broken. And do you think I looked to see +what had tripped him? I supposed it was one of the boys' bandy holes. It +was no such thing. The poor wretch had tangled his hind legs in one of +those infernal hoop-wires that Chloe had thrown out in the piece when I +gave her her new ones. Though I did not know it then, those fatal scraps +of rusty steel had broken the neck that day of Robert Lee's army.</p> + +<p>That time I made a row about it. I felt too badly to go into a passion. +But before the women went to bed,—they were all in the sitting-room +together,—I talked to them like a father. I did not swear. I had got +over that for a while, in that six weeks on my back. But I did say the +old wires were infernal things, and that the house and premises must be +made rid of them. The aunts laughed,—though I was so serious,—and +tipped a wink to the girls. The girls wanted to laugh, but were afraid +to. And then it came out that the aunts had sold their old hoops, tied +as tight as they could tie them, in a great mass of rags. They had made +a fortune by the sale,—I am sorry to say it was in other rags, but the +rags they got were new instead of old,—it was a real Aladdin bargain. +The new rags had blue backs, and were numbered, some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1379" id="Page_1379">[Pg 1379]</a></span> as high as fifty +dollars. The rag-man had been in a hurry, and had not known what made +the things so heavy. I frowned at the swindle, but they said all was +fair with a peddler,—and I own I was glad the things were well out of +Richmond. But when I said I thought it was a mean trick, Lizzie and +Sarah looked demure, and asked what in the world I would have them do +with the old things. Did I expect them to walk down to the bridge +themselves with great parcels to throw into the river, as I had done by +Julia's? Of course it ended, as such things always do, by my taking the +work on my own shoulders. I told them to tie up all they had in as small +a parcel as they could, and bring them to me.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, the next day, I found a handsome brown paper parcel, not so +very large, considering, and strangely square, considering, which the +minxes had put together and left on my office table. They had a great +frolic over it. They had not spared red tape nor red wax. Very official +it looked, indeed, and on the left-hand corner, in Sarah's boldest and +most contorted hand, was written, "Secret service." We had a great laugh +over their success. And, indeed, I should have taken it with me the next +time I went down to the Tredegar, but that I happened to dine one +evening with young Norton of our gallant little navy, and a very curious +thing he told us.</p> + +<p>We were talking about the disappointment of the combined land attack. I +did not tell what upset poor Schaff's horse; indeed, I do not think +those navy men knew the details of the disappointment. O'Brien had told +me, in confidence, what I have written down probably for the first time +now. But we were speaking, in a general way, of the disappointment. +Norton finished his cigar rather thoughtfully, and then said: "Well, +fellows, it is not worth while to put in the newspapers, but what do +you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1380" id="Page_1380">[Pg 1380]</a></span> suppose upset our grand naval attack, the day the Yankee gunboats +skittled down the river so handsomely?"</p> + +<p>"Why," said Allen, who is Norton's best-beloved friend, "they say that +you ran away from them as fast as they did from you."</p> + +<p>"Do they?" said Norton, grimly. "If you say that, I'll break your head +for you. Seriously, men," continued he, "that was a most extraordinary +thing. You know I was on the Ram. But why she stopped when she stopped I +knew as little as this wineglass does; and Callender himself knew no +more than I. We had not been hit. We were all right as a trivet for all +we knew, when, skree! she began blowing off steam, and we stopped dead, +and began to drift down under those batteries. Callender had to +telegraph to the little Mosquito, or whatever Walter called his boat, +and the spunky little thing ran down and got us out of the scrape. +Walter did it right well; if he had had a monitor under him he could not +have done better. Of course we all rushed to the engine-room. What in +thunder were they at there? All they knew was they could get no water +into her boiler.</p> + +<p>"Now, fellows, this is the end of the story. As soon as the boilers +cooled off they worked all right on those supply pumps. May I be hanged +if they had not sucked in, somehow, a long string of yarn, and cloth, +and, if you will believe me, a wire of some woman's crinoline. And that +French folly of a sham Empress cut short that day the victory of the +Confederate navy, and old Davis himself can't tell when we shall have +such a chance again!"</p> + +<p>Some of the men thought Norton lied. But I never was with him when he +did not tell the truth. I did not mention, however, what I had thrown +into the water the last time I had gone over to Manchester. And I +changed my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1381" id="Page_1381">[Pg 1381]</a></span> mind about Sarah's "secret-service" parcel. It remained on +my table.</p> + +<p>That was the last dinner our old club had at the Spotswood, I believe. +The spring came on, and the plot thickened. We did our work in the +office as well as we could; I can speak for mine, and if other +people—but no matter for that! The third of April came, and the fire, +and the right wing of Grant's army. I remember I was glad then that I +had moved the office down to the house, for we were out of the way +there. Everybody had run away from the Department; and so, when the +powers that be took possession, my little sub-bureau was unmolested for +some days. I improved those days as well as I could,—burning carefully +what was to be burned, and hiding carefully what was to be hidden. One +thing that happened then belongs to this story. As I was at work on the +private bureau,—it was really a bureau, as it happened, one I had made +Aunt Eunice give up when I broke my leg,—I came, to my horror, on a +neat parcel of coast-survey maps of Georgia, Alabama, and Florida. They +were not the same Maury stole when he left the National Observatory, but +they were like them. Now I was perfectly sure that on that fatal Sunday +of the flight I had sent Lafarge for these, that the President might use +them, if necessary, in his escape. When I found them, I hopped out and +called for Julia, and asked her if she did not remember his coming for +them. "Certainly," she said, "it was the first I knew of the danger. +Lafarge came, asked for the key of the office, told me all was up, +walked in, and in a moment was gone."</p> + +<p>And here, on the file of April 3d, was Fafarge's line to me:</p> + +<p>"I got the secret-service parcel myself, and have put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1382" id="Page_1382">[Pg 1382]</a></span> it in the +President's own hands. I marked it, 'Gulf coast,' as you bade me."</p> + +<p>What could Lafarge have given to the President? Not the soundings of +Hatteras Bar. Not the working-drawings of the first monitor. I had all +these under my hand. Could it be,—"Julia, what did we do with that +stuff of Sarah's that she marked <i>secret service</i>?"</p> + +<p>As I live, we had sent the girls' old hoops to the President in his +flight.</p> + +<p>And when the next day we read how he used them, and how Pritchard +arrested him, we thought if he had only had the right parcel he would +have found the way to Florida.</p> + +<p>That is really the end of this memoir. But I should not have written it, +but for something that happened just now on the piazza. You must know, +some of us wrecks are up here at the Berkeley baths. My uncle has a +place near here. Here came to-day John Sisson, whom I have not seen +since Memminger ran and took the clerks with him. Here we had before, +both the Richards brothers, the great paper men, you know, who started +the Edgerly Works in Prince George's County, just after the war began. +After dinner, Sisson and they met on the piazza. Queerly enough, they +had never seen each other before, though they had used reams of +Richards' paper in correspondence with each other, and the treasury had +used tons of it in the printing of bonds and bank-bills. Of course we +all fell to talking of old times,—old they seem now, though it is not a +year ago. "Richards," said Sisson at last, "what became of that last +order of ours for water-lined, pure linen government calendered paper of +<i>sureté</i>? We never got it, and I never knew why."</p> + +<p>"Did you think Kilpatrick got it?" said Richards, rather gruffly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1383" id="Page_1383">[Pg 1383]</a></span></p> + +<p>"None of your chaff, Richards. Just tell where the paper went, for in +the loss of that lot of paper, as it proved, the bottom dropped out of +the Treasury tub. On that paper was to have been printed our new issue +of ten per cent., convertible, you know, and secured on that up-country +cotton, which Kirby Smith had above the Big Raft. I had the printers +ready for near a month waiting for that paper. The plates were really +very handsome. I'll show you a proof when we go up stairs. Wholly new +they were, made by some Frenchman we got, who had worked for the Bank of +France. I was so anxious to have the thing well done, that I waited +three weeks for that paper, and, by Jove, I waited just too long. We +never got one of the bonds off, and that was why we had no money in +March."</p> + +<p>Richards threw his cigar away. I will not say he swore between his +teeth, but he twirled his chair round, brought it down on all fours, +both his elbows on his knees and his chin in both hands.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sisson," said he, "if the Confederacy had lived, I would have died +before I ever told what became of that order of yours. But now I have no +secrets, I believe, and I care for nothing. I do not know now how it +happened. We knew it was an extra nice job. And we had it on an elegant +little new French Fourdrinier, which cost us more than we shall ever +pay. The pretty thing ran like oil the day before. That day, I thought +all the devils were in it. The more power we put on the more the rollers +screamed; and the less we put on, the more sulkily the jade stopped. I +tried it myself every way; back current, I tried; forward current; high +feed; low feed; I tried it on old stock, I tried it on new; and, Mr. +Sisson, I would have made better paper in a coffee-mill! We drained off +every drop of water. We washed the tubs free from size. Then my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1384" id="Page_1384">[Pg 1384]</a></span> +brother, there, worked all night with the machinists, taking down the +frame and the rollers. You would not believe it, sir, but that little +bit of wire,"—and he took out of his pocket a piece of this hateful +steel, which poor I knew so well by this time,—"that little bit of wire +had passed in from some hoop-skirt, passed the pickers, passed the +screens, through all the troughs, up and down through what we call the +lacerators, and had got itself wrought in, where, if you know a +Fourdrinier machine, you may have noticed a brass ring riveted to the +cross-bar, and there this cursed little knife—for you see it was a +knife by that time—had been cutting to pieces the endless wire web +every time the machine was started. You lost your bonds, Mr. Sisson, +because some Yankee woman cheated one of my rag-men."</p> + +<p>On that story I came up stairs. Poor Aunt Eunice! She was the reason I +got no salary on the 1st of April. I thought I would warn other women by +writing down the story.</p> + +<p>That fatal present of mine, in those harmless hourglass parcels, was the +ruin of the Confederate navy, army, ordinance, and treasury; and it led +to the capture of the poor President, too.</p> + +<p>But, Heaven be praised, no one shall say that my office did not do its +duty!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1385" id="Page_1385">[Pg 1385]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE LOST INVENTOR<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY WALLACE IRWIN</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Patriotic fellow-citizens, and did you ever note<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How we honor Mr. Fulton, who devised the choo-choo boat?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How we glorify our Edison, who made the world to go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the bizzy-whizzy magic of the little dynamo?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet no spirit-thrilling tribute has been ever heard or seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the fellow who invented our Political Machine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sure a fine, inventive genius, who has labored long and hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till success has crowned his research, should receive a just reward.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Machine's a great invention, that's continually clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of nothing but corruption making millions every year—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of muck and filth of cities making dollars neat and clean—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where's the fellow who invented the Political Machine?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail the complex mechanism, full of cranks and wires and wheels,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fed by graft and loot and patronage, as noiselessly it reels.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1386" id="Page_1386">[Pg 1386]</a></span><span class="i0">Press the button, pull the lever, clickety-click, and set the vogue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the latest thing in statesmen or the newest kind of rogue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who's the man behind the throttle? Who's the Engineer unseen?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ask me nothin'! Ask me nothin'!" clicks that wizard, the Machine.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1387" id="Page_1387">[Pg 1387]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>OMAR IN THE KLONDYKE</h2> + +<h3>BY HOWARD V. SUTHERLAND</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This Omar seems a decent chap," said Flapjack Dick one night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he had read my copy through and then blown out the light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I ain't much stuck on poetry, because I runs to news,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I appreciates a man that loves his glass of booze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And Omar here likes a good red wine, although he's pretty mum;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On liquors, which is better yet, like whisky, gin, or rum;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps his missus won't allow him things like that to touch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he doesn't like to own it. Well, I don't blame Omar much.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then I likes a man what's partial to the ladies, young or old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Omar seems to seek 'em much as me and you seek gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only hope for his sake that his wife don't learn his game<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or she'll put a chain on Omar, and that would be a shame.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1388" id="Page_1388">[Pg 1388]</a></span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"His language is some florid, but I guess it is the style<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of them writer chaps that studies and burns the midnight ile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He tells us he's no chicken; so I guess he knows what's best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And can hold his own with Shakespeare, Waukeen Miller, and the rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But I hope he ain't a thinkin' of a trip to this yere camp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For our dancin' girls is ancient, and our liquor's somewhat damp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By doctorin' with water, and we ain't got wine at all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I had a drop of porter—but that was back last fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And he mightn't like our manners, and he mightn't like the smell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is half the charm of Dawson; and he mightn't live to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the acres of wild roses that grows on every street;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he mightn't like the winter, or he mightn't like the heat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So I guess it's best for Omar for to stay right where he is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gallivant with Tottie, or with Flossie, or with Liz;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fill himself with claret, and, although it ain't like beer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish he'd send a bottle—just one bottle—to us here."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1389" id="Page_1389">[Pg 1389]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE HAPPY LAND<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY FRANK ROE BATCHELDER</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the Land of Steady Incomes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where they get their ten per cent.,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is never need to worry<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As to how to pay the rent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There they never dodge the grocer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in winter never freeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the Land of Steady Incomes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the dollars grow on trees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the Land of Steady Incomes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the cash is ready-made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No one ever thinks of going<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the almoner for aid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the coal-bin's never empty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the Gray Wolf dare not lurk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the Land of Steady Incomes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the check-books do the work.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the Land of Steady Incomes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the watches all have fobs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will see no haggard fathers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pleading, in despair, for jobs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will hear no hungry children<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crying, while their mothers pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the Land of Steady Incomes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where there's dinner every day.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1390" id="Page_1390">[Pg 1390]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the Land of Steady Incomes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is easy to forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All about that far-off country<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where are hunger, cold, and debt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the woes of other people<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is easy to dismiss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the Land of Steady Incomes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where inheritance is bliss.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1391" id="Page_1391">[Pg 1391]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ASSAULT AND BATTERY</h2> + +<h3>BY JOSEPH G. BALDWIN</h3> + + +<p>A trial came off, not precisely in our bailiwick, but in the +neighborhood, of great comic interest. It was really a case of a good +deal of aggravation, and the defendants, fearing the result, employed +four of the ablest lawyers practicing at the M. bar to defend them. The +offense charged was only assault and battery; but the evidence showed a +conspiracy to inflict great violence on the person of the prosecutor, +who had done nothing to provoke it, and that the attempt to effect it +was followed by severe injury to him. The prosecutor was an original. He +had been an old-field school-master, and was as conceited and pedantic a +fellow as could be found in a summer's day, even in that profession. It +was thought the policy of the defense to make as light of the case as +possible, and to cast as much ridicule on the affair as they could. J.E. +and W.M. led the defense, and, although the talents of the former were +rather adapted to grave discussion than pleasantry, he agreed to doff +his heavy armor for the lighter weapons of wit and ridicule. M. was in +his element. He was at all times and on all occasions at home when fun +was to be raised: the difficulty with him was rather to restrain than to +create mirth and laughter. The case was called and put to the jury. The +witness, one Burwell Shines, was called for the prosecution. A broad +grin was upon the faces of the counsel for the defense as he came +forward. It was increased when the clerk said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1392" id="Page_1392">[Pg 1392]</a></span> "<i>Burrell</i> Shines, come +to the book;" and the witness, with deliberate emphasis, remarked, "My +Christian name is not <i>Burrell</i>, but <i>Burwell</i>, though I am vulgarly +denominated by the former epithet." "Well," said the clerk, "Bur-<i>well</i> +Shines, come to the book, and be sworn." He <i>was</i> sworn, and directed to +take the stand. He was a picture!</p> + +<p>He was dressed with care. His toilet was elaborate and befitting the +magnitude and dignity of the occasion, the part he was to fill, and the +high presence into which he had come. He was evidently favorably +impressed with his own personal pulchritude; yet with an air of modest +deprecation, as if he said by his manner, "After all, what <i>is</i> beauty, +that man should be proud of it; and what are fine clothes, that the +wearers should put themselves above the unfortunate mortals who have +them not?"</p> + +<p>He advanced with deliberate gravity to the stand. There he stood, his +large bell-crowned hat, with nankeen-colored nap an inch long, in his +hand; which hat he carefully handed over the bar to the clerk to hold +until he should get through his testimony. He wore a blue +single-breasted coat with new brass buttons, a vest of bluish calico, +nankeen pants that struggled to make both ends meet, but failed, by a +few inches, in the legs, yet made up for it by fitting a little better +than the skin everywhere else. His head stood upon a shirt collar that +held it up by the ears, and a cravat, something smaller than a +table-cloth, bandaged his throat; his face was narrow, long, and grave, +with an indescribable air of ponderous wisdom, which, as Fox said of +Thurlow, "proved him <i>necessarily</i> a hypocrite; as it was <i>impossible</i> +for <i>any</i> man to be as wise as <i>he</i> looked." Gravity and decorum marked +every lineament of his countenance and every line of his body. All the +wit of Hudibras could not have moved a muscle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1393" id="Page_1393">[Pg 1393]</a></span> of his face. His +conscience would have smitten him for a laugh almost as soon as for an +oath. His hair was roached up, and stood as erect and upright as his +body; and his voice was slow, deep, in "linked sweetness long drawn +out," and modulated according to the camp-meeting standard of elocution. +Three such men at a country frolic would have turned an old Virginia +reel into a dead march. He was one of Carlyle's earnest men. Cromwell +would have made him ensign of the Ironsides, and <i>ex-officio</i> chaplain +at first sight. He took out his pocket-handkerchief, slowly unfolded it +from the shape in which it came from the washerwoman's, and awaited the +interrogation. As he waited, he spat on the floor, and nicely wiped it +out with his foot. The solicitor told him to tell about the difficulty +in hand. He gazed around on the court, then on the bar, then on the +jury, then on the crowd, addressing each respectively as he turned: "May +it please your honor, gentlemen of the bar, gentlemen of the jury, +audience: Before proceeding to give my testimonial observations, I must +premise that I am a member of the Methodist Episcopal, otherwise called +Wesleyan, persuasion of Christian individuals. One bright Sabbath +morning in May, the 15th day of the month, the past year, while the +birds were singing their matutinal songs from the trees, I sallied forth +from the dormitory of my seminary to enjoy the reflections so well +suited to that auspicious occasion. I had not proceeded far before my +ears were accosted with certain Bacchanalian sounds of revelry, which +proceeded from one of those haunts of vicious depravity located at the +cross-roads, near the place of my boyhood, and fashionably denominated a +doggery. No sooner had I passed beyond the precincts of this diabolical +rendezvous of rioting debauchees, than I heard behind me the sounds of +approaching footsteps, as if in pur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1394" id="Page_1394">[Pg 1394]</a></span>suit. Having heard previously sundry +menaces, which had been made by these preposterous and incarnadine +individuals of hell, now on trial in prospect of condign punishment, +fulminated against the longer continuance of my corporeal salubrity, for +no better reason than that I reprobated their criminal orgies, and not +wishing my reflections to be disturbed, I hurried my steps with a +gradual accelerated motion. Hearing, however, their continued advance, +and the repeated shoutings, articulating the murderous accents, 'Kill +him! Kill Shadbelly, with his praying clothes on!' (which was a profane +designation of myself and my religious profession), and casting my head +over my left shoulder in a manner somehow reluctantly, thus, (throwing +his head to one side), and perceiving their near approximation, I +augmented my speed into what might be denominated a gentle slope, and +subsequently augmented the same into a species of dog-trot. But all +would not do. Gentlemen, the destroyer came. As I reached the fence, and +was about propelling my body over the same, felicitating myself on my +prospect of escape from my remorseless pursuers, they arrived, and James +William Jones, called by nickname, Buck Jones, that red-headed character +now at the bar of this honorable court, seized a fence rail, grasped it +in both hands, and, standing on tip-toe, hurled the same, with mighty +emphasis, against my cerebellum, which blow felled me to the earth. +Straightway, like ignoble curs upon a disabled lion, these bandit +ruffians and incarnadine assassins leaped upon me, some pelting, some +bruising, some gouging,—'everything by turns, and nothing long,' as the +poet hath it; and one of them,—which one unknown to me, having no eyes +behind,—inflicted with his teeth a grievous wound upon my person; +where, I need not specify. At length, when thus prostrate on the ground, +one of those bright<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1395" id="Page_1395">[Pg 1395]</a></span> ideas, common to minds of men of genius, struck me. +I forthwith sprang to my feet, drew forth my cutto, circulated the same +with much vivacity among their several and respective corporeal systems, +and every time I circulated the same I felt their iron grasp relax. As +cowardly recreants, even to their own guilty friendships, two of these +miscreants, though but slightly perforated by my cutto, fled, leaving +the other two, whom I had disabled by the vigor and energy of my +incisions, prostrate and in my power. These lustily called for quarter, +shouting out 'Enough!' or, in their barbarous dialect, being as corrupt +in language as in morals, 'Nuff!' which quarter I magnanimously extended +them, as unworthy of my farther vengeance, and fit only as subject of +penal infliction at the hands of the offended laws of their country, to +which laws I do now consign them, hoping such mercy for them as their +crimes will permit; which, in my judgment (having read the code) is not +much. This is my statement on oath, fully and truly, nothing extenuating +and naught setting down in malice; and if I have omitted anything, in +form or substance, I stand ready to supply the omission; and if I have +stated anything amiss, I will cheerfully correct the same, limiting the +averment, with appropriate modifications, provisions, and restrictions. +The learned counsel may now proceed more particularly to interrogate me +of and respecting the premises."</p> + +<p>After this oration, Burwell wiped the perspiration from his brow, and +the counsel for the state took him. Few questions were asked him, +however, by that official, he confining himself to a recapitulation in +simple terms, of what the witness had declared, and procuring Burwell's +assent to his translation. Long and searching was the cross-examination +by the defendant's counsel; but it elic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1396" id="Page_1396">[Pg 1396]</a></span>ited nothing favorable to the +defense, and nothing shaking, but much to confirm, Burwell's statement.</p> + +<p>After some other evidence, the examination closed, and the argument to +the jury commenced. The solicitor very briefly adverted to the leading +facts, deprecated any attempt to turn the case into ridicule, admitted +that the witness was a man of eccentricity and pedantry, but harmless +and inoffensive; a man, evidently, of conscientiousness and +respectability; that he had shown himself to be a peaceable man, but +when occasion demanded, a brave man; that there was a conspiracy to +assassinate him upon no cause except an independence, which was +honorable to him, and an attempt to execute the purpose, in pursuance of +previous threats, and severe injury by several confederates on a single +person, and this on the Sabbath, and when he was seeking to avoid them.</p> + +<p>W.M. rose to reply. All Screamersville turned out to hear him. William +was a great favorite,—the most popular speaker in the country,—had the +versatility of a mocking-bird, an aptitude for burlesque that would have +given him celebrity as a dramatist, and a power of acting that would +have made his fortune on the boards of a theater. A rich treat was +expected, but it didn't come. The witness had taken all the wind out of +William's sails. He had rendered burlesque impossible. The thing as +acted was more ludicrous than it could be as described. The crowd had +laughed themselves hoarse already; and even M.'s comic powers seemed, +and were felt by himself, to be humble imitations of a greater master. +For once in his life M. dragged his subject heavily along. The matter +began to grow serious,—fun failed to come when M. called it up. M. +closed between a lame argument, a timid deprecation, and some only +tolerable humor. He was followed by E., in a discursive, argumentative, +sarcastic,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1397" id="Page_1397">[Pg 1397]</a></span> drag-net sort of speech, which did all that could be done +for the defense. The solicitor briefly closed, seriously and confidently +confining himself to a repetition of the matters first insisted, and +answering some of the points of the counsel.</p> + +<p>It was an ominous fact that a juror, before the jury retired, under +leave of the court, recalled a witness for the purpose of putting a +question to him: the question was how much the defendants were worth; +the answer was, about two thousand dollars.</p> + +<p>The jury shortly after returned into the court with a verdict which +"sized their pile."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1398" id="Page_1398">[Pg 1398]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE PRAYER OF CYRUS BROWN</h2> + +<h3>BY SAM WALTER FOSS</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The proper way for a man to pray,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said Deacon Lemuel Keyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And the only proper attitude<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is down upon his knees."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No, I should say the way to pray,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said Rev. Dr. Wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Is standing straight, with outstretched arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rapt and upturned eyes."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, no; no, no," said Elder Slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Such posture is too proud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A man should pray with eyes fast closed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And head contritely bowed."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It seems to me his hands should be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Austerely clasped in front,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With both thumbs pointing toward the ground,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Said Rev. Dr. Blunt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Las' year I fell in Hodgkin's well<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Head first," said Cyrus Brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"With both my heels a-stickin' up,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My head a-pinting down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"An' I made a prayer right then an' there—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Best prayer I ever said.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prayingest prayer I ever prayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A-standing on my head."<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> By permission of Life Publishing Company.</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> Lippincott's Magazine.</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 "At the Sign of the Dollar," by Wallace Irwin. +Copyright, 1905, 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> Lippincott's Magazine.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="bbox"> +<div class="boxtext"> + +<p style="text-align: center;">"Well told and dramatically strong, it breathes again the spirit of +Dumas and Bulwer-Lytton."—<i>Portland Oregonian.</i></p> + +<h2>The Palace of Danger</h2> + +<h4>A STORY OF LA POMPADOUR</h4> + +<h3>By MABEL WAGNALLS</h3> + +<p style="text-align: center;"><i>Author of "Stars of the Opera," "Miserere," etc.</i></p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"There have been few groups of characters who have been used more +frequently in fiction than the members of the court of Louis XV., +and there have been few attempts to make romance of their lives +that are quite so delightful as this story. Around the heroine and +hero Miss Wagnalls has spun a tale that has the quality of holding +the reader's attention from first page to last. <i>It is charged with +dramatic movement and a wealth and charm of style.</i>"—<i>New York +Press.</i></p> + +<p>"A powerful novel, exciting, interesting, and well worked +out."—<i>San Francisco Examiner.</i></p> + +<p>"The author has shown skill in the use of her materials."—<i>Boston +Globe.</i></p> + +<p>"It is a thoroughly human story, and so well constructed that the +interest holds one to the end."—<i>The Review of Reviews</i>, New York.</p> + +<p>"The author gives a splendid picture of that magnificent court and +the conditions which eventually brought about the revolution. The +precarious position of every member of that court from La Pompadour +down to the meanest lackey, whose very lives were in constant +danger from the whims of the weak but self-indulgent king, is made +very real by the author."—<i>Globe-Democrat</i>, St. Louis.</p></div> + +<p style="text-align: center;"><i>Illustrations by John Ward Dunsmore. 12mo, Cloth. $1.50</i></p> + +<p style="text-align: center;"> +FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers<br /> +<span class="smcap">NEW YORK and LONDON</span><br /> +</p> + +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="bbox"> +<div class="boxtext"> + +<h2>MISERERE</h2> + +<h3>By MABEL WAGNALLS</h3> + +<p style="text-align: center;"><i>Author of "Stars of the Opera," &c.</i></p> + + +<p>A brief, but beautiful romance in which the discovery of a rich and +powerful voice leads ultimately to a climax as thrilling as the death +scene in "Romeo and Juliet." The story is told with simple grace and +directness, and is singularly pathetic and forceful.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It is perfectly delightful. The theme is new and +interesting."—<i>Ella Wheeler Wilcox.</i></p> + +<p>"It is a story of tender and pathetic interest—the story of a +woman with a wonderfully beautiful voice. A dainty and fascinating +romance which will appeal to music lovers."—<i>Chicago News.</i></p> + +<p>"It vibrates with musical sentiment. There is a good deal of +artistic skill displayed in its description."—<i>Boston Watchman.</i></p> + +<p>"A story unique in theme, delightfully told with many delicate +touches."—<i>The Arena</i>, Boston.</p></div> + +<p style="text-align: center;"><i>Small 12mo, Cloth. Illustrated. 40 Cents, net</i></p> + +<p style="text-align: center;"> +FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers<br /> +<span class="smcap">NEW YORK and LONDON</span><br /> +</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume +VII. 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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 VII. (of X.) + +Author: Various + +Editor: Marshall P. Wilder + +Release Date: September 18, 2006 [EBook #19325] + +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. VII + + + + +[Illustration: GEORGE ADE] + + + + +THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA + +EDITED BY MARSHALL P. WILDER + +_Volume VII_ + + +Funk & Wagnalls Company +New York and London + +Copyright MDCCCCVII, BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY +Copyright MDCCCCXI, THE THWING COMPANY + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + Alphabet of Celebrities Oliver Herford 1243 + Assault and Battery Joseph G. Baldwin 1391 + Associated Widows, The Katharine M. Roof 1338 + Bill Nations Bill Arp 1368 + Brakeman at Church, The Robert J. Burdette 1323 + Breitmann and the Turners Charles Godfrey Leland 1217 + By Bay and Sea John Kendrick Bangs 1367 + Camp-Meeting, The Baynard Rust Hall 1265 + Critic, The William J. Lampton 1336 + Cupid, A Crook Edward W. Townsend 1220 + Dubious Future, The Bill Nye 1298 + Educational Project, An Roy Farrell Greene 1264 + Fable Ralph Waldo Emerson 1358 + Goat, The R.K. Munkittrick 1247 + Happy Land, The Frank Roe Batchelder 1389 + He and She Ironquill 1250 + Holly Song Clinton Scollard 1260 + How Mr. Terrapin Lost His Beard Anne Virginia Culbertson 1328 + How Mr. Terrapin Lost His Plumage + and Whistle Anne Virginia Culbertson 1360 + In Defense of an Offering Sewell Ford 1248 + It is Time to Begin to Conclude A.H. Laidlaw 1294 + Jack Balcomb's Pleasant Ways Meredith Nicholson 1309 + Lost Inventor, The Wallace Irwin 1385 + Margins Robert J. Burdette 1297 + My Cigarette Charles F. Lummis 1292 + Nonsense Verses Gelett Burgess 1244 + Notary of Perigueux Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1251 + Nothin' Done Sam S. Stinson 1296 + Omar in the Klondyke Howard V. Sutherland 1387 + Prayer of Cyrus Brown, The Sam Walter Foss 1398 + Rhyme for Christmas, A John Challing 1290 + Siege of Djklxprwbz, The Ironquill 1246 + Skeleton in the Closet, The Edward Everett Hale 1371 + Songs Without Words Robert J. Burdette 1261 + Talk John Paul 1307 + Triolets C.W.M. 1262 + Two Cases of Grip M. Quad 1239 + Utah Eugene Field 1305 + Wicked Zebra, The Frank Roe Batchelder 1322 + Winter Fancy, A R.K. Munkittrick 1308 + What She Said About It John Paul 1263 + Woman-Hater Reformed, The Roy Farrell Greene 1359 + Women and Bargains Nina R. Allen 1352 + +COMPLETE INDEX AT THE END OF VOLUME X. + + + + +BREITMANN AND THE TURNERS + +BY CHARLES GODFREY LELAND + + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners + Novemper in de fall, + Und dey gifed a boostin' bender + All in de Toorner Hall. + Dere coomed de whole Gesangverein + Mit der Liederlich Aepfel Chor, + Und dey blowed on de drooms und stroomed on de fifes + Till dey couldn't refife no more. + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners, + Dey all set oop some shouts, + Dey took'd him into deir Toorner Hall, + Und poots him a course of shprouts, + Dey poots him on de barrell-hell pars + Und shtands him oop on his head, + Und dey poomps de beer mit an enchine hose + In his mout' dill he's 'pout half tead! + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners;-- + Dey make shimnastig dricks; + He stoot on de middle of de floor, + Und put oop a fifdy-six. + Und den he trows it to de roof, + Und schwig off a treadful trink: + De veight coom toomple pack on his headt, + Und py shinks! he didn't vink! + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners:-- + Mein Gott! how dey drinked und shwore + Dere vas Schwabians und Tyrolers, + Und Bavarians by de score. + Some vellers coomed from de Rheinland, + Und Frankfort-on-de-Main, + Boot dere vas only von Sharman dere, + Und _he_ vas a _Holstein_ Dane. + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners, + Mit a Limpurg' cheese he coom; + Ven he open de box it schmell so loudt + It knock de musik doomb. + Ven de Deutschers kit de flavor, + It coorl de haar on dere head; + Boot dere vas dwo Amerigans dere; + Und, py tam! it kilt dem dead! + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners; + De ladies coomed in to see; + Dey poot dem in de blace for de gals, + All in der gal-lerie. + Dey ashk: "Vhere ish der Breitmann?" + And dey dremple mit awe and fear + Ven dey see him schwingen py de toes, + A trinken lager bier. + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners:-- + I dells you vot py tam! + Dey sings de great Urbummellied: + De holy Sharman psalm. + Und ven dey kits to de gorus + You ought to hear dem dramp! + It scared der Teufel down below + To hear de Dootchmen stamp. + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners:-- + By Donner! it vas grand, + Vhen de whole of dem goes a valkin' + Und dancin' on dere hand, + Mit de veet all wavin' in de air, + Gottstausend! vot a dricks! + Dill der Breitmann fall und dey all go down + Shoost like a row of bricks. + + Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners, + Dey lay dere in a heap, + And slept dill de early sonnen shine + Come in at de window creep; + And de preeze it vake dem from deir dream, + And dey go to kit deir feed: + Here hat' dis song an Ende-- + Das ist DES BREITMANNSLIED. + + + + +CUPID, A CROOK + +BY EDWARD W. TOWNSEND + + +The first night assignment Francis Holt received from his city editor +was in these words: "Mr. Holt, you will cover the Tenderloin to-night. +Mr. Fetner, who usually covers it, will explain what there is to do." + +Fetner, when his own work was done that night, sought Holt to help him +with any late story which might be troublesome to a new man. They were +walking up Broadway when Fetner, lowering his voice, said: "Here's +Duane, a plain-clothes man, who is useful to us. I'll introduce you." + +As the reporters, in the full flood of after-theater crowds, stood +talking to the officer, a young man hurrying past abruptly stopped and +stepped to Duane's side. + +"Well, Tommy, what's up with you?" the officer asked. Holt noted that +Tommy, besides being breathed, was excited. His coat and hat had the +provisional look of the apparel of house servants out of livery, and his +trousers belonged to a livery suit. Tommy hesitated, glancing at Duane's +companions, but the officer said: "Tell your story: these are friends of +mine." + +"I was just on my way to the station house to see the captain, but I'm +glad I met you, for we don't want the papers to say anything, and +there's always reporters around the station." + +Holt would have stepped back, but Fetner detained him, while Duane said +cheerfully: "You're a cunning one, Tommy. Now, what's wrong?" + +"Well," began the youth in the manner of a witness on the stand, "I was +on duty in the hall this evening and noticed one of our tenants, Mr. +Porter H. Carrington, leave the house about ten o'clock. I noticed that +he had no overcoat, which I thought was queer, for I'd just closed the +front door, because it was getting chilly." + +At the mention of the name Holt started, and now paid close attention to +the story. + +"I was reading the sporting extra by the hall light," Tommy continued, +"when, in about twenty minutes, Mr. Carrington returned--that is, I +thought it was Mr. Carrington--and he says to me, 'Tommy, run up to my +dressing-room and fetch my overcoat.' 'Yes, sir,' I says; 'which one?' +for he has a dozen of 'em. 'The light one I wore to-day,' he says, and I +starts up the stairs, his apartment being on the next floor, thinking +I'd see the coat he wanted on a chair if he'd worn it to-day. I'd just +got to his hall and was unlocking the door, when he comes up behind me +and says, 'I'll get it, Tommy; there's something else I want.' So in he +goes, handing me a dime, and I goes back to the hall. In about fifteen +minutes he comes downstairs wearing an overcoat and carrying a bundle, +tosses me the key and starts for the door. He's the kind that never +carries a bundle, so I says to him, 'Shall I ring for a messenger to +carry your package?' 'No,' says he, and leaves the house." + +Tommy paused, and there was a shake of excitement in his voice when he +resumed: "In five minutes Mr. Carrington comes back without any +overcoat, and says, Tommy, run upstairs and get me an overcoat.' I +looks, and he was as sober as I am at this minute, Mr. Duane, and I +begins to feel queer. It sort of comes over me all of a sudden that the +voice of the other man I'd unlocked the door for was different from this +one. But I'd been reading the baseball news, and didn't notice much at +the time. So I says, hoping it was some kind of a jolly, 'Did you lose +the one you just wore out, sir?' 'I wore no coat,' he says, giving me a +look. Well, he goes to his apartment, me after him, and there was things +flung all over the place, and all the signs of a hurry job by a +sneak-thief. Mr. Carrington was kind of petrified, but I runs downstairs +and tells the superintendent, and he chases me off to the station. The +superintendent was mad and rags me good, for there never was a job of +that kind done in the house. But the other man was the same looking as +the real, so how was I to know?" + +Duane started off with Tommy, and winked to the reporters to follow. At +the Quadrangle, a bachelor apartment house noted for its high rents and +exclusiveness, Duane was met at the entrance by the superintendent, who +told the officer that there was nothing in the story, after all. It was +a lark of a friend of his, Mr. Carrington had said, and was annoyed that +news of the affair had been sent to the police. The superintendent was +glad that Tommy had not reached the station house. Duane looked +inquiringly at the superintendent, who gravely winked. + +"Good night," said Duane, holding out his hand. "Good night," replied +the other, taking the hand. "You won't report this at the station?" +"No," said Duane, who then put his hand in his pocket and returned to +the reporters. He told them what the superintendent had said. + +"What do you make out of it?" asked Fetner. + +"Nothing," the officer replied. "If I tried to make out the cases we are +asked not to investigate, I'd have mighty little time to work on the +cases we are wanted in. If Mr. Carrington says he hasn't been robbed, it +isn't our business to prove that he has been. You won't print anything +about this?" + +Fetner said he would not. To have done so after that promise would have +closed a fruitful source of Tenderloin stories. The reporters left the +officer at Broadway and resumed their interrupted walk to supper. "Lots +of funny things happen in the Tenderloin," Fetner remarked, in the +manner of one dismissing a subject. + +"But," exclaimed Holt, quite as excited as Tommy had been, "I know +Carrington." + +"So does every one," answered Fetner, "by name and reputation. He's just +a swell--swell enough to be noted. Isn't that all?" + +"He was a couple of classes ahead of me at college," continued Holt. "I +didn't know him there--one doesn't know half of one's own class--but his +family and mine are old friends, and without troubling himself to know +me, more than to nod, he sometimes sent me word to use his horses when +he was away. Before I left college and went to work on a Boston paper, +Carrington started on a trip around the world. My people heard of him +through his people at times, and learned that he was doing a number of +crazy things, among them getting lost in all sorts of No-man's-lands. +His people were usually asking the State Department to locate him, +through the diplomatic and consular services." + +"Then this is one of his eccentricities," commented Fetner. + +"How can you treat it like that?" exclaimed Holt. "I think it is a +fascinating mystery, and I'm going to solve it." + +"Not for publication," warned Fetner. + +"For my own satisfaction," declared Holt, with great earnestness. + + * * * * * + +When the superintendent of the Quadrangle had shaken hands with the +officer he turned to Tommy and said: "You go up to Mr. Carrington. He +wants to see you." + +"Tommy," said Mr. Carrington, "I think this is a joke on you." + +This view of the event was such a relief to Tommy that he grinned +broadly. + +"It is certainly a joke on you. Now, Thomas, did my friend make himself +up to look so much like me that you could not have told the difference, +even if you were not distracted by the discomfiture of the New York nine +this season?" + +"I can't say how much he looked like you, and how much he didn't. I +naturally thought he was you--that's all." + +"Not all, Thomas: nothing is all. He asked in an easy, nice voice for a +coat, so you thought he was somebody who had a coat here. How did you +know whose coat he preferred?" + +"Because I thought he was you." + +"If I had not been the last tenant to leave the house before that, would +you have thought so? If Mr. Hopkins had just left, and that man had come +in and asked for 'My coat,' wouldn't you have got Mr. Hopkins' coat?" + +"Mr. Hopkins did go out after you," Tommy admitted, reluctantly. + +"Oh, he did, eh? Well, Hopkins is always going out. I never knew such a +regular out-and-outer as Hopkins. He should reform. It's a joke on you, +Thomas, and if I were you I wouldn't say anything about it." + +"I ain't going to say anything," declared Tommy. "If I don't lose my job +for it, I'll be lucky." + +"I'll see that you do not lose your job. What police did you see?" + +"Only a plain-clothes man I know, and a couple of his side-partners. +They won't say anything, for the superintendent fixed them." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Carrington secured his college degree a year after his class. The +delay resulted from an occurrence which he never admitted deserved a +year's rustication. By mere chance he had learned the date of the +birthday of one of the least known and least important instructors, and +decided that it would be well to celebrate it. So he made the +acquaintance of the instructor and invited him to a birthday dinner. A +large and exultant company were the instructor's fellow guests at the +St. Dunstan, and there was jollity that seemed out of drawing with the +dominant lines of the guest of honor; yet the scope of the celebration +was extended until it included the burning of much red fire and +explosion of many noisy bombs at a late hour, as the instructor was +making a speech of thanks in the yard, surrounded by the dinner guests, +heartily encouraging him. It seemed that upon the manner in which the +affair was to be presented to the Faculty depended the dismissal of the +instructor or the rustication of Mr. Carrington; and the latter managed +to present the case so as to save the instructor. If he had foreseen all +the consequences of taking all the blame for an occurrence promptly +distorted in report into the aspect of a riotous carousal, perhaps Mr. +Carrington would not have sacrificed himself for a neutral personality +which had so recently swum into his ken. One consequence was a letter +from Mr. Draper Curtis, of New York, commanding Mr. Carrington to cease +correspondence with Miss Caroline Curtis; and a note from Caroline, in +which a calmer man than a distracted lover would have seen signs of +parental censorship, wherein that young lady said that she had read her +father's letter and added her commands to his. She had heard from many +sources, as had numerous indignant relatives and friends, the +particulars of the shocking affair which had compelled the Faculty to +discipline Mr. Carrington; and she could but agree with her family that +her happiness would rest upon insecure ground if trusted to the inciter +and principal offender in such a terrible transaction. He was to forget +her at once, as she would try to forget him. + +Caroline and her mamma sailed for Europe the next day, and several +letters Carrington wrote to her, giving a less censurable version of the +little dinner to the little instructor, were returned to him unopened. + +After receiving his delayed degree Carrington began a tour around the +world. In the court of the Palace Hotel, the day of his departure from +San Francisco, a commonplace-looking man stepped up to him briskly, and +said, placing a hand on his shoulder: "Presidio, you've got a nerve to +come back here. You, to the ferry; or with me to the captain!" + +Carrington turned his full face toward the man for the first time as he +brushed aside the hand with some force. The man reddened, blinked, and +then stammered: "Excuse me, but you did look so--Say, you must excuse +me, for I see that you are a gentleman." + +"Isn't Presidio a gentleman?" Carrington asked, good-naturedly, when he +saw that the man's confusion was genuine. + +"Why, Presidio is--do you mind sitting down at one of these tables? I +feel a little shaky--making such a break!" + +He explained that he was the hotel's detective, and had been on the +city's police force. In both places he had dealings with a confidence +man, called Presidio--after the part of the city he came from. Presidio +was an odd lot; had enough skill in several occupations to earn honest +wages, but seemed unable to forego the pleasure of exercising his wit in +confidence games and sneak-thievery. Among his honest accomplishments +was the ability to perform sleight-of-hand tricks well enough to work +profitably in the lesser theater circuits. He had married a woman who +made part of the show Presidio operated for a time--a good-looking +woman, but as ready to turn a confidence trick as to help her husband's +stage work, or do a song and dance as an interlude. They had been warned +to leave San Francisco for a year, and not to return then, unless +bringing proof that they had walked in moral paths during their exile. + +"And you mistook me for Presidio?" asked Carrington, with the manner of +one flattered. + +"For a second, and seeing only your side face. Of course, I saw my +mistake when you turned and spoke to me. Presidio is considered the +best-looking crook we've ever had." + +"Now, that's nice! Where did you say he's gone?" + +"I don't know." + +Carrington found that out for himself. He first interrupted his voyage +by a stop of some weeks in Japan. Later, at the Oriental Hotel in +Manila, the day of his arrival there, he saw a man observing him with +smiling interest, a kind of smile and interest which prompted Carrington +to smile in return. He was bored because the only officer he knew in the +Philippines was absent from Manila on an expedition to the interior; and +the man who smiled looked as if he might scatter the blues if he were +permitted to try. The stranger approached with a bright, frank look, and +said, "Don't you remember me, Mr. Carrington?" + +"No-o." + +"I was head waiter at the St. Dunstan." + +"Oh, were you? Well, your face has a familiar look, somehow." + +"Excuse my speaking to you, but I guess your last trip was what induced +me to come out here." + +"That's odd." + +"It is sort of funny. I'd saved a good deal--I'm the saving sort--and +the tenner you gave me that night--you remember, the night of _the_ +dinner--happened to fetch my pile up to exactly five hundred. So +I says to myself that here was my chance to make a break for +freedom--independence, you understand." + +"We're the very deuce for independence down our way." + +"Yes, indeed, sir. I was awfully sorry to hear about the trouble you got +in at college; but, if you don't mind my saying so now, you boys were +going it a little that night." + +"Going it? What night? There were several." + +"The red-fire night. You tipped me ten for that dinner." + +"Did I? I hope you have it yet, Mr.--" + +"James Wilkins, sir. Did you see Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Culver as you passed +through San Francisco?" + +"I did. How did you happen to know that I knew them?" + +"I remember that they were chums of yours at college. We heard lots of +college gossip at St. Dunstan's. I called on them in San Francisco, and +Mr. Thorpe got me half-fare rates here. I've opened a restaurant here, +and am doing a good business. Some of the officers who knew me at the +St. Dunstan kind of made my place fashionable. Lieutenant Sommers, of +the cavalry, won't dine anywhere else." + +"Sommers? I expected to find him here." + +"He's just gone out with an expedition. He told me that you'd be along, +and that I was to see that you didn't starve. I've named my place the +St. Dunstan, and I'd like you to call there--I remember your favorite +dishes." + +"That's very decent of you." + +Mr. Wilkins looked frequently toward the entrance, with seeming anxiety. +"I wish the proprietor of this place would come in," he said at last. +"Lieutenant Sommers left me a check on this house for a hundred--Mr. +Sommers roomed here, and left his money with the office. I need the cash +to pay a carpenter who has built an addition for me. Kind of funny to be +worth not a cent less than five thousand gold, in stock and good will, +and be pushed for a hundred cash." + +"If you've Mr. Sommers' check, I'll let you have the money--for St. +Dunstan's sake." + +"If you could? Of course, you know the lieutenant's signature?" + +"As well as my own. Quite right. Here you are. Where is your +restaurant?" + +"You cross the Lunette, turn toward the bay--ask anybody. Hope to see +you soon. Good day." + +Some officers called on Carrington, as they had been told to do by the +absent Sommers. When introductions were over, one of them handed a paper +to Carrington, saying gravely: "Sommers told me to give this to you. It +was published in San Francisco the day after you left, and reached here +while you were in Japan." + +What Carrington saw was a San Francisco newspaper story of his encounter +with the Palace Hotel detective, an account of his famous dinner at the +St. Dunstan, some selections of his other college pranks, allusion to +the fact that he was a classmate of two San Franciscans, Messrs. Thorpe +and Culver, the whole illustrated with pictures of Carrington and +Presidio--the latter taken from the rogues' gallery. "Very pretty, very +pretty, indeed," murmured Carrington, his eyes lingering with thoughtful +pause on the picture of Presidio. "Could we not celebrate my fame in +some place of refreshment--the St. Dunstan, for instance?" + +They knew of no St. Dunstan's. + +"I foreboded it," sighed Carrington. He narrated his recent experience +with one James Wilkins, "who, I now opine, is Mr. Presidio. It's not +worth troubling the police about, but I'd give a pretty penny to see Mr. +Presidio again. Not to reprove him for the error of his ways, but to +discover the resemblance which has led to this winsome newspaper story." + +The next day one of the officers told Carrington that he had learned +that Presidio and his wife, known to the police by a number of names, +had taken ship the afternoon before. + +"I see," remarked Carrington. "He needed exactly my tip to move to new +fields. He worked me from the article in the paper, which he had seen +and I had not. Clever Presidio!" + + * * * * * + +When Tommy, the hall-boy, on the night of Mr. Holt's first Tenderloin +assignment, went to inform the police, Carrington, looking about the +apartment to discover the extent of his loss, found on a table a letter +superinscribed, "Before sending for the police, read this." He read: + +"Dear Mr. Carrington: Since we met in Manila I have been to about every +country on top of the earth where a white man's show could be worked. +It's been up and down, and down and up, the last turn being down. In +India I got some sleight-of-hand tricks which are new to this country; +but here we land, wife and me, broke. Nothing but our apparatus, which +we can't eat; and not able to use it, because we are shy on dress +clothes demanded by the houses where I could get engagements. In that +condition I happened to see you on the street, and thought to try a +touch; and would, but you might be sore over the little fun we had in +Manila. I heard in South Africa that you wouldn't let the army officers +start the police after me; and wife says that was as square a deal as +she ever heard of, and to try a touch. But I says we will make a forced +loan, and repay out of our salaries. We hocked our apparatus to get me a +suit of clothes which looked something like those you wear, and the rest +was easy: finding out Tommy's name and then conning him. I've taken some +clothes and jewelry, to make a front at the booking office, and some +cash. You should empty your pockets of loose cash: I found some in all +your clothes. Give me and wife a chance, and we will live straight after +this, and remit on instalment. You can get me pinched easy, for we'll be +playing the continuous circuit in a week; but wife says you won't +squeal, and I'll take chances. Yours, sincerely as always, Presidio." + +So Carrington told the superintendent to drop the matter. + +The Great Courvatals, Monsieur and Madame, showed their new tricks to +the booking agent and secured a forty weeks' engagement at a salary +which only Presidio's confidence could have asked. + +Presidio liked New York, and exploited it in as many directions as +possible. With his new fashionable clothing and his handsome face, he +was admitted to resorts of a character his boldest dreams had never +before penetrated. He especially liked the fine restaurants. None so +jocund, so frank and free as Presidio in ordering the best at the best +places. Mrs. Presidio did not accompany him; she was enjoying the more +poignant pleasure of shopping, with a responsible theater manager as her +reference! At a restaurant one midday, as Presidio was leisurely +breakfasting, he became aware that he was the object of furtive +observation by a young lady, seated with an elderly companion at a table +somewhat removed. Furtive doings were in his line, and he made a close +study of the party, never turning more than a scant half-face to do so. +The manner of the young lady was puzzling. None so keen as Presidio in +reading expression, but hers he could not understand. That she was not +trying to flirt with him he decided promptly and definitively; yet her +looks were intended to attract his attention, and to do so secretly. The +elderly companion, when the couple was leaving the restaurant, stopped +in the vestibule to allow an attendant to adjust her wrap, and Presidio +seized that chance to pass close to the young lady, moving as slowly as +he dared without seeming to be concerned in her actions. Her head was +averted, but Presidio distinctly heard her breathe, rather than whisper, +"Pass by the house to-morrow afternoon." + + * * * * * + +Presidio pondered. He was supposed to know where her house was; he was +unwelcome to some one there; he was mistaken for some one +else--Carrington! + +When he told his wife about it she was in a fever of romantic +excitement. Bruising knocks in the world, close approaches to the shades +of the prison house, hardships which would have banished romance from a +nature less robustly romantic, had for Mrs. Presidio but more glowingly +suffused with the tints of romance all life--but her own! "Mr. +Carrington has done us right, Willie," she declared; "once in Manila, +when we simply _had_ to get to Hong Kong; and here, where we wouldn't +have had no show on earth if he hadn't lent you the clothes and cash for +the start. There's something doing here, Willie; and I'm all lit up with +excitement." + +Presidio, who, of course, had followed the young lady to learn where she +lived, passed the house the next day, the sedatest looking man on the +sedate block. Presently a maid came from the house, gave him a beckoning +nod, and hurried on round the corner. There she slipped him a note, +saying as she walked on, "I was to give you this, Mr. Carrington." + +Presidio took the note to his wife, and she declared for opening it. It +was sealed, and addressed to another person; but to let such an +informality as opening another's letters stand in the way of knowing +what was going on around them would have been foreign to the nature of +Presidio activities. This was the note: + + "Dear Porter: Your letters to papa will not be answered. I heard + him say so to mamma, yesterday. He is angry that you wrote to him + on the very day I returned from Europe. He will send me back there + if you try to see me, as you say you will, but dear, even at that + cost I must see you once more. I have never forgotten, never ceased + to love; but there is no hope! A companion accompanies me always, + the one you saw in the restaurant; but the maid who will hand you + this is trustworthy, and will bring me any message you give to her. + If you can arrange for a moment's meeting it will give me something + to cherish in my memory through the remainder of my sad and + hopeless life. Only for a moment, dear. + + "Caroline." + +Mrs. Presidio wept. Here was romance sadder, and therefore better, than +any she had ever read; better, even, than that in the one-act dramas +which followed their turns on the stage. "Have you ever studied his +writing?" she asked her husband; and, promptly divining her plan, he +replied, "I made a few copies of his signature on the Manila hotel +register. You never know what will turn up." After a pause, he added +eagerly, "Better yet!--there was some of his writing in the overcoat I +borrowed from his rooms." + +"Write to her; make an appointment, and have him on hand to keep it." + +Here was work right in Presidio's line; his professional pride was +fired, and he wrote with grave application: + + "Darling Caroline: Thank you, sweetheart, for words which have kept + me from suicide. Love of my life, I can not live until we meet! But + only for a moment? Nay, for ever and ever!" + +"That's beautiful!" declared Mrs. Presidio, looking over Willie's +shoulder. He continued: + + "I shall hand this to your maid; but you must not meet me there; it + would be too dangerous. Leave your house one-half hour after + receiving this, and go around the corner where you will see a lady, + a relative of mine, who will drive with you to a safe tryst. Trust + her, and heaven speed the hour! With undying love. Porter." + +This was all written in a good imitation of Carrington's rather unusual +handwriting, and approved by Mrs. Presidio; who, however, thought there +should be some reference to the young lady's home as a beetled tower, +and to her father as several things which Presidio feared might not be +esteemed polite in the social plane they were operating in. He passed +the house the next day, and the maid soon appeared. He learned from her +that her mistress's companion was not at home; and then, hopeful because +of this opportune absence, hurried off, leaving Mrs. Presidio round the +corner in a carriage. He went to a club where, he had ascertained, +Carrington usually was at that hour, and sent in the card of "M. +Courvatal," on which he wrote, "Presidio." Carrington came out to him at +once. "My dear Mr. Presidio, this is so kind of you," he said, regarding +his caller with interest. "We've not met since Manila. I hope Mrs. +Presidio is well, and that your professional engagements prosper. I went +to see you perform last night, and was delighted." + +"Thank you," the caller said, much pleased with this reception. "I'll be +sending the balance of my little debt to you as soon as the wife has her +dressmaking bills settled." + +"Pray do not incommode the wife. The amount you have already sent was a +pleasant--surprise. Can I be of any service to you to-day?" + +"Well, it's like this, Mr. Carrington: I have an appointment for you +this afternoon." + +"For me?" + +"With Miss Caroline Curtis." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Don't be offended, sir. Come with me, and see what you'll see. If I try +any game, pitch into me, that's all." + +The man's manner was now so earnest that Carrington, without a word, +started with him. In the club entrance Presidio whispered, "Follow; +don't walk with me. There's not much chance that any one here will +recognize me, but if I was pinched on any old score you'd better not be +in my company." He went ahead, and Carrington followed. They had walked +down Fifth Avenue several blocks when Mr. Francis Holt cut in between +them, and shadowed Presidio with elaborate caution. Carrington saw this, +and mused. "I think I know that young man who has so plainly got friend +Presidio under observation. Surely, it's Holt, a year or two after me. +What can he--Hello, I say!" + +Holt saw the intention of Presidio to turn off the avenue toward a +little church round the corner, and advancing suddenly, laid a strong +hand on Presidio's shoulder, saying, "Come quietly with me, and I'll +make no fuss; but if you don't, I'll call a policeman." + +Carrington overtook them. Holt was excited, wild-eyed, disheveled, and +seemed not to have slept for a week. Presidio coolly awaited events. + +"Hello, Holt!" exclaimed Carrington. "How are you, old chap? Haven't +seen you for years." + +"Good heavens, this is lucky!" cried Holt. "Carrington, since the night +your rooms were plundered I've been on the track of this villain. I was +bound to explain the mystery of that night; determined to prove that I +could unravel a plot, detect a crime! Do you understand? This is the +fellow who rifled your room. Robbed you!" + +"Yes, I know, old fellow," Carrington replied soothingly, for he saw +that Holt was half hysterical from excitement. "He's always robbing me, +this chap is. It's a habit with him. I've come rather to like it. Walk +along with us, and I'll tell you all about it." + +They turned the corner and walked down the side street, but only Holt +talked: of his sleepless nights and tireless days solving his first +crime case. A carriage drove up to the curb and Mrs. Presidio stepped +out. At a wink from Presidio Carrington stepped in. + +"Betty," said Presidio to his wife, "shake hands with an old friend of +mine and of Mr. Carrington's. I want you to know him. Mr. Holt, shake +hands with Madame Courvatal, my wife." + +"Why, Mr. Holt, glad to meet you personally!" exclaimed Betty. "This is +the gent, Willie, I've told you about: comes to the show every night +just before our turn, and goes out as soon as we are off." + +"Glad you like the turn so much," Presidio said, smiling oddly. Holt, +with his hand to his brow was gasping. The carriage door opened and +Carrington's head emerged: "Oh, Holt, come here." + +Holt, with a painfully dazed expression, went to the carriage. "My +dear," Carrington said to some one inside who was struggling to hide, +"this is Mr. Francis Holt; one of my oldest and dearest friends. He's +the discreetest fellow I know and will arrange the whole matter in a +minute. You must, darling! Fate has offered us a chance for life's +happiness, and as I say--Holt, like a good fellow, go into the parsonage +and explain who I am, and who Miss Caroline Curtis is. Your people know +all the Curtises, and we're going to get married, and--don't protest, +darling!--like a good chap, Holt, go and--for God's sake, man, don't +stare like that! You know us, and can vouch for us. Tell the parson that +the Curtises and Carringtons are always marrying each other. Holt! will +you move?" + +An hour later a little banquet was served in the private dining-room of +a hotel, and Mrs. Carrington was explaining, between tears and laughter, +how good, kind Madame Courvatal had told her that everything was ready +for a wedding, and that she would be a cruel woman, indeed, not to make +such a loving lover happy; and she couldn't make up her mind to say yes, +and it was hard to say no--just after receiving Porter's despairing +note. + +"My note, dear?" asked Carrington, but Presidio coughed so loudly she +did not hear her husband's question. Holt drank to the bride and groom +several times before he began soberly to believe he was not in a dream. +Mr. and Mrs. Presidio beamed broadly, and declared that life without +romance was no kind of a life for honest folk to live. + +"Holt!" exclaimed Carrington, when the train carriage was announced, +"you've been a brick about all this. I don't know how to show my +appreciation." + +"I'll tell you how," suggested Presidio. "Let Mr. Holt be the one to +tell Mr. Curtis. He deserves the privilege of informing the governor." + +"The very thing, Holt, old chap!" cried Carrington. "Will you do it?" + +"You're awfully kind," answered Holt, "but I think this old friend could +do it with more art and understanding." + +"What, my Willie?" cried Willie's wife. "He'll do it to the Queen's +taste. Won't you, Willie?" + +"I will, in company with Mr. Holt--my friend and your admirer. He sits +in front every night," he added, in explanation to Carrington. + +As the carriage with the happy pair drove away to the station, Presidio, +with compulsive ardor, took the arm of Mr. Francis Holt; and together +they marched up the avenue to inform Mr. Curtis of the marriage of his +daughter. + + + + +TWO CASES OF GRIP + +BY M. QUAD + + +"What's this! What's this!" exclaimed Mr. Bowser, as he came home the +other evening and found Mrs. Bowser lying on the sofa and looking very +much distressed. + +"The doctor says it's the grip--a second attack," she explained. "I was +taken with a chill and headache about noon and--" + +"Grip? Second attack? That's all nonsense, Mrs. Bowser! Nobody can have +the grip a second time." + +"But the doctor says so." + +"Then the doctor is an idiot, and I'll tell him so to his face. I know +what's the matter with you. You've been walking around the backyard +barefoot or doing some other foolish thing. I expected it, however. No +woman is happy unless she's flat down about half the time. How on earth +any of your sex manage to live to be twenty years old is a mystery to +me. The average woman has no more sense than a rag baby." + +"I haven't been careless," she replied. + +"I know better! Of course you have! If you hadn't been you wouldn't be +where you are. Grip be hanged! Well, it's only right that you should +suffer for it. Call it what you wish, but don't expect any sympathy from +me. While I use every precaution to preserve my health, you go sloshing +around in your bare feet, or sit on a cake of ice to read a dime novel, +or do some other tomfool thing to flatten you out. I refuse to +sympathize with you, Mrs. Bowser--absolutely and teetotally refuse to +utter one word of pity." + +Mrs. Bowser had nothing to say in reply. Mr. Bowser ate his dinner +alone, took advantage of the occasion to drive a few nails and make a +great noise, and by and by went off to his club and was gone until +midnight. Next morning Mrs. Bowser felt a bit better and made a heroic +attempt to be about until he started for the office. + +The only reference he made to her illness was to say: + +"If you live to be three hundred years old, you may possibly learn +something about the laws of health and be able to keep out of bed three +days in a week." + +Mrs. Bowser was all right at the end of three or four days, and nothing +more was said. Then one afternoon at three o'clock a carriage drove up +and a stranger assisted Mr. Bowser into the house. He was looking pale +and ghastly, and his chin quivered, and his knees wabbled. + +"What is it, Mr. Bowser?" she exclaimed, as she met him at the door. + +"Bed--doctor--death!" he gasped in reply. + +Mrs. Bowser got him to bed and examined him for bullet holes or knife +wounds. There were none. He had no broken limbs. He hadn't fallen off a +horse or been half drowned. When she had satisfied herself on these +points, she asked: + +"How were you taken?" + +"W-with a c-chill!" he gasped--"with a c-chill and a b-backache!" + +"I thought so. Mr. Bowser, you have the grip--a second attack. As I have +some medicine left, there's no need to send for the doctor. I'll have +you all right in a day or two." + +"Get the doctor at once," wailed Mr. Bowser, "or I'm a dead man! Such a +backache! So cold! Mrs. Bowser, if I should d-die, I hope--" + +Emotion overcame Mr. Bowser, and he could say no more. The doctor came +and pronounced it a second attack of the grip, but a very mild one. When +he had departed, Mrs. Bowser didn't accuse Mr. Bowser with putting on +his summer flannels a month too soon; with forgetting his umbrella and +getting soaked through; with leaving his rubbers at home and having damp +feet all day. She didn't express her wonder that he hadn't died years +ago, nor predict that when he reached the age of Methuselah he would +know better than to roll in snow-banks or stand around in mud puddles. +She didn't kick over chairs or slam doors or leave him alone. When Mr. +Bowser shed tears, she wiped them away. When he moaned, she held his +hand. When he said he felt that the grim specter was near, and wanted to +kiss the baby good-by, she cheered him with the prediction that he would +be a great deal better next day. + +Mr. Bowser didn't get up next day, though the doctor said he could. He +lay in bed and sighed and uttered sorrowful moans and groans. He wanted +toast and preserves; he had to have help to turn over; he worried about +a relapse; he had to have a damp cloth on his forehead; he wanted to +have a council of doctors, and he read the copy of his last will and +testament over three times. + +Mr. Bowser was all right next morning, however. When Mrs. Bowser asked +him how he felt he replied: + +"How do I feel? Why, as right as a trivet, of course. When a man takes +the care of himself that I do--when he has the nerve and will power I +have--he can throw off 'most anything. You would have died, Mrs. Bowser; +but I was scarcely affected. It was just a play spell. I'd like to be +real sick once just to see how it would seem. Cholera, I suppose it +was; but outside of feeling a little tired, I wasn't at all affected." + +And the dutiful Mrs. Bowser looked at him and swallowed it all and never +said a word to hurt his feelings. + + + + +ALPHABET OF CELEBRITIES + +BY OLIVER HERFORD + + + E is for Edison, making believe + He's invented a clever contrivance for Eve, + Who complained that she never could laugh in her sleeve. + + O is for Oliver, casting aspersion + On Omar, that awfully dissolute Persian, + Though secretly longing to join the diversion. + + R's Rubenstein, playing that old thing in F + To Rollo and Rembrandt, who wish they were deaf. + + S is for Swinburne, who, seeking the true, + The good, and the beautiful, visits the Zoo, + Where he chances on Sappho and Mr. Sardou, + And Socrates, all with the same end in view. + + W's Wagner, who sang and played lots, + For Washington, Wesley and good Dr. Watts; + His prurient plots pained Wesley and Watts, + But Washington said he "enjoyed them in spots." + + + + +NONSENSE VERSES + +BY GELETT BURGESS + + +1 + + The Window has Four little Panes: + But One have I; + The Window-Panes are in its sash,-- + I wonder why! + + +2 + + My Feet they haul me 'round the House; + They hoist me up the Stairs; + I only have to steer them and + They ride me everywheres. + + +3 + + Remarkable truly, is Art! + See--Elliptical wheels on a Cart! + It looks very fair + In the Picture up there; + But imagine the Ride when you start! + + +4 + + I'd rather have fingers than Toes; + I'd rather have Ears than a Nose + And as for my hair, + I'm glad it's all there, + I'll be awfully sad when it goes! + + +5 + + I wish that my Room had a floor; + I don't so much care for a Door, + But this walking around + Without touching the ground + Is getting to be quite a bore! + + + + +THE SIEGE OF DJKLXPRWBZ + +BY IRONQUILL + + + Before a Turkish town + The Russians came, + And with huge cannon + Did bombard the same. + + They got up close + And rained fat bombshells down, + And blew out every + Vowel in the town. + + And then the Turks, + Becoming somewhat sad, + Surrendered every + Consonant they had. + + + + +THE GOAT + +BY R.K. MUNKITTRICK + + + Down in the cellar dark, remote, + Where alien cats the larder note, + In solemn grandeur stands the goat. + + Without he hears the winter storm, + And while the drafts about him swarm, + He eats the coal to keep him warm. + + + + +IN DEFENSE OF AN OFFERING + +BY SEWELL FORD + + +Gracious! You're not going to smoke again? I do believe, my dear, that +you're getting to be a regular, etc., etc. (Voice from across the +reading table.) + +A slave to tobacco! Not I. Singular, the way you women misuse nouns. I +am, rather, a chosen acolyte in the temple of Nicotiana. Daily, aye, +thrice daily--well, call it six, then--do I make burnt offering. Now +some use censers of clay, others employ censers of rare white earth +finely carved and decked with silver and gold. My particular censer, as +you see, is a plain, honest briar, a root dug from the banks of the blue +Garonne, whose only glory is its grain and color. The original tint, if +you remember, was like that of new-cut cedar, but use--I've been smoking +this one only two years now--has given it gloss and depth of tone which +put the finest mahogany to shame. Let me rub it on my sleeve. Now look! + +There are no elaborate mummeries about our service in the temple of +Nicotiana. No priest or pastor, no robed muezzin or gowned prelate calls +me to the altar. Neither is there fixed hour or prescribed point of the +compass towards which I must turn. Whenever the mood comes and the +spirit listeth, I make devotion. + +There are various methods, numerous brief litanies. Mine is a common and +simple one. I take the cut Indian leaf in the left palm, so, and roll it +gently about with the right, thus. Next I pack it firmly in the censer's +hollow bowl with neither too firm nor too light a pressure. Any fire +will do. The torch need not be blessed. Thanks, I have a match. + +Now we are ready. With the surplus breath of life you draw in the +fragrant spirit of the weed. With slow, reluctant outbreathing you loose +it on the quiet air. Behold! That which was but a dead thing, lives. +Perhaps we have released the soul of some brave red warrior who, long +years ago, fell in glorious battle and mingled his dust with the +unforgetting earth. Each puff may give everlasting liberty to some dead +and gone aboriginal. If you listen you may hear his far-off chant. +Through the curling blue wreaths you may catch a glimpse of the happy +hunting grounds to which he has now gone. That is the part of the +service whose losing or gaining depends upon yourself. + +The first whiff is the invocation, the last the benediction. When you +knock out the ashes you should feel conscious that you have done a good +deed, that the offering has not been made in vain. + +Slave! Still that odious word? Well, have it your own way. Worshipers at +every shrine have been thus persecuted. + + + + +HE AND SHE + +BY IRONQUILL + + + When I am dead you'll find it hard, + Said he, + To ever find another man + Like me. + + What makes you think, as I suppose + You do, + I'd ever want another man + Like you? + + + + +THE NOTARY OF PERIGUEUX + +BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW + + Do not trust thy body with a physician. He'll make thy foolish + bones go without flesh in a fortnight, and thy soul walk without a + body a sennight after. + + SHIRLEY. + + +You must know, gentlemen, that there lived some years ago, in the city +of Perigueux, an honest notary-public, the descendant of a very ancient +and broken-down family, and the occupant of one of those old +weather-beaten tenements which remind you of the times of your +great-grandfather. He was a man of an unoffending, quiet disposition; +the father of a family, though not the head of it,--for in that family +"the hen over-crowed the cock," and the neighbors, when they spake of +the notary, shrugged their shoulders, and exclaimed, "Poor fellow! his +spurs want sharpening." In fine,--you understand me, gentlemen,--he was +hen-pecked. + +Well, finding no peace at home, he sought it elsewhere, as was very +natural for him to do; and at length discovered a place of rest, far +beyond the cares and clamors of domestic life. This was a little _Cafe +Estaminet_, a short way out of the city, whither he repaired every +evening to smoke his pipe, drink sugar-water, and play his favorite game +of domino. There he met the boon companions he most loved; heard all the +floating chitchat of the day; laughed when he was in merry mood; found +consolation when he was sad; and at all times gave vent to his +opinions, without fear of being snubbed short by a flat contradiction. + +Now, the notary's bosom-friend was a dealer in claret and cognac, who +lived about a league from the city, and always passed his evenings at +the _Estaminet_. He was a gross, corpulent fellow, raised from a +full-blooded Gascon breed, and sired by a comic actor of some reputation +in his way. He was remarkable for nothing but his good-humor, his love +of cards, and a strong propensity to test the quality of his own liquors +by comparing them with those sold at other places. + +As evil communications corrupt good manners, the bad practices of the +wine-dealer won insensibly upon the worthy notary; and before he was +aware of it, he found himself weaned from domino and sugar-water, and +addicted to piquet and spiced wine. Indeed, it not unfrequently +happened, that, after a long session at the _Estaminet_, the two friends +grew so urbane that they would waste a full half-hour at the door in +friendly dispute which should conduct the other home. + +Though this course of life agreed well enough with the sluggish, +phlegmatic temperament of the wine-dealer, it soon began to play the +very deuse with the more sensitive organization of the notary, and +finally put his nervous system completely out of tune. He lost his +appetite, became gaunt and haggard, and could get no sleep. Legions of +blue-devils haunted him by day, and by night strange faces peeped +through his bed-curtains, and the nightmare snorted in his ear. The +worse he grew, the more he smoked and tippled; and the more he smoked +and tippled,--why, as a matter of course, the worse he grew. His wife +alternately stormed, remonstrated, entreated; but all in vain. She made +the house too hot for him,--he retreated to the tavern; she broke his +long-stemmed pipes upon the andirons,--he substituted a short-stemmed +one, which, for safe-keeping, he carried in his waistcoat-pocket. + +Thus the unhappy notary ran gradually down at the heel. What with his +bad habits and his domestic grievances, he became completely hipped. He +imagined that he was going to die; and suffered in quick succession all +the diseases that ever beset mortal man. Every shooting pain was an +alarming symptom,--every uneasy feeling after dinner a sure prognostic +of some mortal disease. In vain did his friends endeavor to reason, and +then to laugh him out of his strange whims; for when did ever jest or +reason cure a sick imagination? His only answer was, "Do let me alone; I +know better than you what ails me." + +Well, gentlemen, things were in this state, when, one afternoon in +December, as he sat moping in his office, wrapped in an overcoat, with a +cap on his head and his feet thrust into a pair of furred slippers, a +cabriolet stopped at the door, and a loud knocking without aroused him +from his gloomy revery. It was a message from his friend the +wine-dealer, who had been suddenly attacked with a violent fever, and +growing worse and worse, had now sent in the greatest haste for the +notary to draw up his last will and testament. The case was urgent, and +admitted neither excuse nor delay; and the notary, tying a handkerchief +round his face, and buttoning up to the chin, jumped into the cabriolet, +and suffered himself, though not without some dismal presentiments and +misgivings of heart, to be driven to the wine-dealer's house. + +When he arrived, he found everything in the greatest confusion. On +entering the house, he ran against the apothecary, who was coming down +stairs, with a face as long as your arm; and a few steps farther he met +the housekeeper--for the wine-dealer was an old bachelor--running up +and down, and wringing her hands, for fear that the good man should die +without making his will. He soon reached the chamber of his sick friend, +and found him tossing about in a paroxysm of fever, and calling aloud +for a draught of cold water. The notary shook his head; he thought this +a fatal symptom; for ten years back the wine-dealer had been suffering +under a species of hydrophobia, which seemed suddenly to have left him. + +When the sick man saw who stood by his bedside, he stretched out his +hand and exclaimed,-- + +"Ah! my dear friend! have you come at last? You see it is all over with +me. You have arrived just in time to draw up that--that passport of +mine. Ah, _grand diable_! how hot it is here! Water,--water,--water! +Will nobody give me a drop of cold water?" + +As the case was an urgent one, the notary made no delay in getting his +papers in readiness; and in a short time the last will and testament of +the wine-dealer was drawn up in due form, the notary guiding the sick +man's hand as he scrawled his signature at the bottom. + +As the evening wore away, the wine-dealer grew worse and worse, and at +length became delirious, mingling in his incoherent ravings the phrases +of the Credo and Paternoster with the shibboleth of the dram-shop and +the card-table. + +"Take care! take care! There, now--_Credo in_--Pop! ting-a-ling-ling! +give me some of that. Cent-e-dize! Why, you old publican, this +wine is poisoned,--I know your tricks!--_Sanctam ecclesiam +catholicam_--Well, well, we shall see. Imbecile! to have a +tierce-major and a seven of hearts, and discard the seven! By St. +Anthony, capot! You are lurched,--ha! ha! I told you so. I knew +very well,--there,--there,--don't interrupt me--_Carnis resurrectionem +et vitam eternam_!" + +With these words upon his lips, the poor wine-dealer expired. Meanwhile +the notary sat cowering over the fire, aghast at the fearful scene that +was passing before him, and now and then striving to keep up his courage +by a glass of cognac. Already his fears were on the alert; and the idea +of contagion flitted to and fro through his mind. In order to quiet +these thoughts of evil import, he lighted his pipe and began to prepare +for returning home. At that moment the apothecary turned round to him +and said,-- + +"Dreadful sickly time, this! The disorder seems to be spreading." + +"What disorder?" exclaimed the notary, with a movement of surprise. + +"Two died yesterday, and three to-day," continued the apothecary, +without answering the question. "Very sickly time, sir,--very." + +"But what disorder is it? What disease has carried off my friend here so +suddenly?" + +"What disease? Why, scarlet fever, to be sure." + +"And is it contagious?" + +"Certainly!" + +"Then I am a dead man!" exclaimed the notary, putting his pipe into his +waistcoat-pocket, and beginning to walk up and down the room in despair. +"I am a dead man! Now don't deceive me,--don't, will you? What--what are +the symptoms?" + +"A sharp, burning pain in the right side," said the apothecary. + +"O, what a fool I was to come here!" + +In vain did the housekeeper and the apothecary strive to pacify him;--he +was not a man to be reasoned with; he answered that he knew his own +constitution better than they did, and insisted upon going home without +delay. Unfortunately, the vehicle he came in had returned to the city, +and the whole neighborhood was abed and asleep. What was to be done? +Nothing in the world but to take the apothecary's horse, which stood +hitched at the door, patiently waiting his master's will. + +Well, gentlemen, as there was no remedy, our notary mounted this +raw-boned steed and set forth upon his homeward journey. The night was +cold and gusty, and the wind right in his teeth. Overhead the leaden +clouds were beating to and fro, and through them the newly-risen moon +seemed to be tossing and drifting along like a cock-boat in the surf; +now swallowed up in a huge billow of cloud, and now lifted upon its +bosom and dashed with silvery spray. The trees by the road-side groaned +with a sound of evil omen; and before him lay three mortal miles, beset +with a thousand imaginary perils. Obedient to the whip and spur, the +steed leaped forward by fits and starts, now dashing away in a +tremendous gallop, and now relaxing into a long, hard trot; while the +rider, filled with symptoms of disease and dire presentiments of death, +urged him on, as if he were fleeing before the pestilence. + +In this way, by dint of whistling and shouting, and beating right and +left, one mile of the fatal three was safely passed. The apprehensions +of the notary had so far subsided, that he even suffered the poor horse +to walk up hill; but these apprehensions were suddenly revived again +with tenfold violence by a sharp pain in the right side, which seemed to +pierce him like a needle. + +"It is upon me at last!" groaned the fear-stricken man. "Heaven be +merciful to me, the greatest of sinners! And must I die in a ditch, +after all? He! get up,--get up!" + +And away went horse and rider at full speed,--hurry-scurry,--up hill and +down,--panting and blowing like a whirlwind. At every leap the pain in +the rider's side seemed to increase. At first it was a little point like +the prick of a needle,--then it spread to the size of a half-franc +piece,--then covered a place as large as the palm of your hand. It +gained upon him fast. The poor man groaned aloud in agony; faster and +faster sped the horse over the frozen ground,--farther and farther +spread the pain over his side. To complete the dismal picture the storm +commenced,--snow mingled with rain. But snow, and rain, and cold were +naught to him; for, though his arms and legs were frozen to icicles, he +felt it not; the fatal symptom was upon him; he was doomed to die,--not +of cold, but of scarlet fever! + +At length, he knew not how, more dead than alive, he reached the gate of +the city. A band of ill-bred dogs, that were serenading at a corner of +the street, seeing the notary dash by, joined in the hue and cry, and +ran barking and yelping at his heels. It was now late at night, and only +here and there a solitary lamp twinkled from an upper story. But on went +the notary, down this street and up that, till at last he reached his +own door. There was a light in his wife's bedroom. The good woman came +to the window, alarmed at such a knocking, and howling, and clattering +at her door so late at night; and the notary was too deeply absorbed in +his own sorrows to observe that the lamp cast the shadow of two heads on +the window-curtain. + +"Let me in! let me in! Quick! quick!" he exclaimed, almost breathless +from terror and fatigue. + +"Who are you, that come to disturb a lone woman at this hour of the +night?" cried a sharp voice from above. "Begone about your business, and +let quiet people sleep." + +"Come down and let me in! I am your husband! Don't you know my voice? +Quick, I beseech you; for I am dying here in the street!" + +After a few moments of delay and a few more words of parley, the door +was opened, and the notary stalked into his domicile, pale and haggard +in aspect, and as stiff and straight as a ghost. Cased from head to heel +in an armor of ice, as the glare of the lamp fell upon him, he looked +like a knight-errant mailed in steel. But in one place his armor was +broken. On his right side was a circular spot, as large as the crown of +your hat, and about as black! + +"My dear wife!" he exclaimed with more tenderness than he had exhibited +for many years, "Reach me a chair. My hours are numbered. I am a dead +man!" + +Alarmed at these exclamations, his wife stripped off his overcoat. +Something fell from beneath it, and was dashed to pieces on the hearth. +It was the notary's pipe! He placed his hand upon his side, and, lo! it +was bare to the skin! Coat, waistcoat, and linen were burnt through and +through, and there was a blister on his side as large as your hand! + +The mystery was soon explained, symptom and all. The notary had put his +pipe into his pocket without knocking out the ashes! And so my story +ends. + + * * * * * + +"Is that all?" asked the radical, when the story-teller had finished. + +"That is all." + +"Well, what does your story prove?" + +"That is more than I can tell. All I know is that the story is true." + +"And did he die?" said the nice little man in gosling-green. + +"Yes; he died afterwards," replied the story-teller, rather annoyed by +the question. + +"And what did he die of?" continued gosling-green, following him up. + +"What did he die of? why, he died--of a sudden!" + + + + +HOLLY SONG + +BY CLINTON SCOLLARD + + + Care is but a broken bubble, + Trill the carol, troll the catch; + Sooth, we'll cry, "A truce to trouble!" + Mirth and mistletoe shall match. + + _Happy folly! we'll be jolly! + Who'd be melancholy now? + With a "Hey, the holly! Ho, the holly!" + Polly hangs the holly bough._ + + Laughter lurking in the eye, sir, + Pleasure foots it frisk and free. + He who frowns or looks awry, sir, + Faith, a witless wight is he! + + _Merry folly! what a volley + Greets the hanging of the bough! + With a "Hey, the holly! Ho, the holly!" + Who'd be melancholy now?_ + + + + +SONGS WITHOUT WORDS + +BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE + + + I can not sing the old songs, + Though well I know the tune, + Familiar as a cradle song + With sleep-compelling croon; + Yet though I'm filled with music + As choirs of summer birds, + "I can not sing the old songs"-- + I do not know the words. + + I start on "Hail Columbia," + And get to "heav'n-born band," + And there I strike an up-grade + With neither steam nor sand; + "Star Spangled Banner" downs me + Right in my wildest screaming, + I start all right, but dumbly come + To voiceless wreck at "streaming." + + So, when I sing the old songs, + Don't murmur or complain + If "Ti, diddy ah da, tum dum," + Should fill the sweetest strain. + I love "Tolly um dum di do," + And the "trilla-la yeep da"-birds, + But "I can not sing the old songs"-- + I do not know the words. + + + + +TRIOLETS + +BY C.W.M. + + + She threw me a kiss, + But why did she throw it? + What grieves me is this-- + She threw me a kiss; + Ah, what chances we miss + If we only could know it! + She threw me a kiss + But why did she throw it! + + Any girl might have known + When I stood there so near! + And we two all alone + Any girl might have known + That she needn't have thrown! + But then girls are so queer! + Any girl might have known, + When I stood there so near! + + + + +WHAT SHE SAID ABOUT IT + +BY JOHN PAUL + + + Lyrics to Inez and Jane, + Dolores and Ethel and May; + Senoritas distant as Spain, + And damsels just over the way! + + It is not that I'm jealous, nor that, + Of either Dolores or Jane, + Of some girl in an opposite flat, + Or in one of his castles in Spain, + + But it is that salable prose + Put aside for this profitless strain, + I sit the day darning his hose-- + And he sings of Dolores and Jane. + + Though the winged-horse must caracole free-- + With the pretty, when "spurning the plain," + Should the team-work fall wholly on me + While he soars with Dolores and Jane? + + _I_ am neither Dolores nor Jane, + But to lighten a little my life + Might the Poet not spare me a strain-- + Although I am only his wife! + + + + +AN EDUCATIONAL PROJECT + +BY ROY FARRELL GREENE + + + Since schools to teach one this or that + Are being started every day, + I have the plan, a notion pat, + Of one which I am sure would pay. + 'Twould be a venture strictly new, + No shaking up of dusty bones; + How does the scheme appeal to you? + A regular school for chaperones! + + One course would be to dull the ear, + And one would be to dim the eye, + So whispered love they'd never hear, + And glance coquettish never spy; + They'd be taught somnolence, and how + Ofttimes closed eye for sleep atones; + Had I a million, I'd endow + A regular school for chaperones! + + There's crying need in West and East + For graduates, and not a source + Supplying it. Some one at least + Should start a correspondence course; + But joy will scarce o'errun the cup + Of maidenhood, my candor owns, + Till some skilled Mentor opens up + A regular school for chaperones! + + + + +THE CAMP-MEETING + +BY BAYNARD RUST HALL + + +The camp was furnished with several stands for preaching, exhorting, +jumping and jerking; but still one place was the pulpit, above all +others. This was a large scaffold, secured between two noble sugar +trees, and railed in to prevent from falling over in a swoon, or +springing over in an ecstasy; its cover the dense foliage of the trees, +whose trunks formed the graceful and massive columns. Here was said to +be also the _altar_, but I could not see its _horns_ or any _sacrifice_; +and the pen, which I _did_ see--a place full of clean straw, where were +put into fold stray sheep willing to return. It was at this pulpit, with +its altar and pen, the regular preaching was done; around here the +congregation assembled; hence orders were issued; here, happened the +hardest fights, and were gained the greatest victories, being the spot +where it was understood Satan fought in person; and here could be seen +gestures the most frantic, and heard noises the most unimaginable, and +often the most appalling. It was the place, in short, where most crowded +either with praiseworthy intentions of getting some religion, or with +unholy purposes of being amused; we, of course, designing neither one +nor the other, but only to see philosophically and make up an opinion. +At every grand outcry a simultaneous rush would, however, take place +from all parts of the camp, proper and improper, towards the pulpit, +altar, and pen; till the crowding, by increasing the suffocation and +the fainting, would increase the tumult and the uproar; but this, in the +estimation of many devotees, only rendered the meeting more lively and +interesting. + +By considering what was done at this central station one may approximate +the amount of spiritual labor done in a day, and then a week in the +whole camp: + +1. About day-break on Sabbath a horn _blasted_ us up for public prayer +and exhortation, the exercises continuing nearly two hours. + +2. Before breakfast, another blast for family and private prayer; and +then every tent became, in camp language, "a bethel of struggling Jacobs +and prevailing Israels," every tree "an altar;" and every grove "a +secret closet;" till the air all became religious words and phrases, and +vocal with "Amens." + +3. After a proper interval came a horn for the forenoon service; then +was delivered the sermon, and that followed by an appendix of some half +dozen exhortations let off right and left, and even _behind_ the pulpit, +that all might have a portion in due season. + +4. We had private and secret prayer again before dinner;--some +clambering into thick trees to be hid, but forgetting in their +simplicity, that they were heard and betrayed. But religious devotion +excuses all errors and mistakes. + +5. The afternoon sermon with its bob-tail string of exhortations. + +6. Private and family prayer about tea time. + +7. But lastly, we had what was termed "a precious season," in the third +regular service at the _principia_ of the camp. This season began not +long after tea and was kept up long after I left the ground; which was +about midnight. And now sermon after sermon and exhortation after +exhortation followed like shallow, foaming, roaring waters; till the +speakers were exhausted and the assembly became an uneasy and billowy +mass, now hushing to a sobbing quiescence, and now rousing by the groans +of sinners and the triumphant cries of folks that had "jist got +religion"; and then again subsiding to a buzzy state, occasioned by the +whimpering and whining voices of persons giving spiritual advice and +comfort! How like a volcanic crater after the evomition of its lava in a +fit of burning cholic, and striving to resettle its angry and +tumultuating stomach! + +It is time, however, to speak of the three grand services and their +concomitants, and to introduce several master spirits of the camp. + +Our first character, is the Reverend Elder Sprightly. This gentleman was +of good natural parts; and in a better school of intellectual discipline +and more fortunate circumstances, he must have become a worthy minister +of some more tasteful, literary and evangelical sect. As it was, he had +only become what he never got beyond--"a very smart man;" and his aim +had become one--to enlarge his own people. And in this work, so great +was his success, that, to use his own modest boastfulness in his sermon +to-day,--"although folks said when he came to the Purchase that a single +corn-crib would hold his people, yet, bless the Lord, they had kept +spreading and spreading till all the corn-cribs in Egypt weren't big +enough to hold them!" + +He was very happy at repartee, as Robert Dale Owen well knows; and not +"slow" (inexpert) in the arts of "taking off"--and--"giving them their +own." This trait we shall illustrate by an instance. + +Mr. Sprightly was, by accident, once present where a Campbellite +Baptist, that had recently taken out a right for administering six doses +of lobelia, red pepper and steam to men's bodies, and a plunge into +cold water for the good of their souls, was holding forth against all +Doctors, secular and sacred, and very fiercely against Sprightly's +brotherhood. Doctor Lobelia's text was found somewhere in Pope +Campbell's _New_ Testament; as it suited the following discourse +introduced with the usual inspired preface: + + +DOCTOR LOBELIA'S SERMON + +"Well, I never rub'd my back agin a collige, nor git no sheepskin, and +allow the Apostuls didn't nither. Did anybody ever hear of Peter and +Poll a-goin' to them new-fangled places and gitten skins to preach by? +No, sirs, I allow not; no, sirs, we don't pretend to loguk--this here +_new_ testament's sheepskin enough for me. And don't Prisbeteruns and +tother baby sprinklurs have reskorse to loguk and skins to show how them +what's emerz'd didn't go down into the water and come up agin? And as to +Sprightly's preachurs, don't they dress like big-bugs, and go ridin +about the Purchis on hunder-dollur hossis, a-spunginin on poor +priest-riden folks and a-eatin fried chickin fixins so powerful fast +that chickins has got skerse in these diggins; and then what ain't fried +makes tracks and hides when they sees them a-comin? + +"But, dear bruthrun, we don't want store cloth and yaller buttins, and +fat hossis and chickin fixins, and the like doins--no, sirs! we only +wants your souls--we only wants beleevur's baptism--we wants +prim--prim--yes, Apostul's Christianity, the Christianity of Christ and +them times, when Christians _was_ Christians, and tuk up thare cross and +went down into the water, and was buried in the gineine sort of baptism +by emerzhin. That's all we wants; and I hope all's convinced that's the +true way--and so let all come right out from among them and git +beleevur's baptism; and so now if any brothur wants to say a word I'm +done, and I'll make way for him to preach." + + * * * * * + +Anticipating this common invitation, our friend Sprightly, indignant at +this unprovoked attack of Doctor Lobelia, had, in order to disguise +himself, exchanged his clerical garb for a friend's blue coatee +bedizzened with metal buttons; and also had erected a very tasteful and +sharp coxcomb on his head, out of hair usually reposing sleek and quiet +in the most saint-like decorum; and then, at the bid from the +pulpit-stump, out stepped Mr. Sprightly from the opposite spice-wood +grove, and advanced with a step so smirky and dandyish as to create +universal amazement and whispered demands--"Why! who's that?" And some +of his very people, who were present, as they told me, did not know +their preacher till his clear, sharp voice came upon the hearing, when +they showed, by the sudden lifting of hands and eyebrows, how near they +were to exclaiming: "Well! I never!" + +Stepping on to the consecrated stump, our friend, without either +preliminary hymn or prayer, commenced thus: + +"My friends, I only intend to say a few words in answer to the pious +brother that's just sat down, and shall not detain but a few minutes. +The pious brother took a good deal of time to tell what we soon found +out ourselves--that he never went to college and don't understand logic. +He boasts, too, of having no sheepskin to preach by; but I allow any +sensible buck-sheep would have died powerful sorry, if he'd ever thought +his hide would come to be handled by some preachers. The skin of the +knowingest old buck couldn't do some folks any good--some things salt +won't save. + +"I rather allow Johnny Calvin's boys and 'tother baby sprinklers,' +ain't likely to have they idees physicked out of them by steam logic, +and doses of No. 6. They can't be steamed up so high as to want cooling +by a cold water plunge. But I want to say a word about Sprightly's +preachers, because I have some slight acquaintance with that there +gentleman, and don't choose to have them all run down for nothing. + +"The pious brother brings several grave charges; first, they ride good +horses. Now don't every man, woman and child in the Purchase know that +Sprightly and his preachers have hardly any home, and that they live on +horseback? The money most folks spend in land these men spend for a good +horse; and don't they _need_ a good horse to stand mud and swim floods? +And is it any sin for a horse to be kept fat that does so much work? The +book says 'a merciful man is merciful to his beast,' and that we mustn't +'muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn.' Step round that fence +corner, and take a peep, dear friends, at a horse hung on the stake; +what's he like? A wooden frame with a dry hide stretched over it. What's +he live on? Ay! that's the pint! Well, what's them buzzards after?--look +at them sailing up there. Now who owns that live carrion?--the pious +brother that's just preached to us just now. And I want to know if it +wouldn't be better for him to give that dumb brute something to cover +his bones, before he talks against 'hunder-dollur hossis' and the like? + +"The next charge is, wearing good clothes. Friends, don't all folks when +they come to meeting put on their best clothes? and wouldn't it be wrong +if preachers came in old torn coats and dirty shirts? It wouldn't do no +how. Well, Sprightly and his preachers preach near about every day; and +oughtn't they always to look decent? Take, then, a peep at the pious +brother that makes this charge; his coat is out at the elbow, and has +only three or four buttons left, and his arm, where he wipes his nose +and mouth, is shiny as a looking glass--his trousers are crawling up to +show he's got no stockings on; and his face has got a crop of beard two +weeks old and couldn't be cleaned by 'baby sprinklin''; yes, look at +them there matters, and say if Sprightly's preachers ain't more like the +apostles in decency than the pious brother is. + +"A word now about chickin-fixins and doins. And I say it would be a +charity to give the pious brother sich a feed now and then, for he looks +half-starved, and savage as a meat-ax; and I advise that old hen out +thare clucking up her brood not to come this way just now, if she don't +want all to disappear. But I say that Sprightly's preachers are so much +beliked in the Purchase, that folks are always glad to see them, and +make a pint of giving them the best out of love; an' that's more than +can be said for some folks here. + +"The pious brother says he only wants our souls--then what makes him +peddle about Thomsonian physic? Why don't he and Campbell make steam and +No. 6 as free as preaching? I read of a quack doctor once, who used to +give his advice free gratis for nothing to any one what would _buy_ a +box of his pills--but as I see the pious brother is crawling round the +fence to his anatomical horse and physical saddle-bags, I have nothing +to say, and so, dear friends, I bid you all good-by." + +Such was Rev. Elder Sprightly, who preached to us on Sabbath morning at +the Camp. Hence, it is not remarkable that in common with many worthy +persons, he should think his talents properly employed in using up +"Johnny Calvin and his boys," especially as no subject is better for +popularity at a camp-meeting. He gave us, accordingly, first, that +affecting story of Calvin and Servetus, in which the latter figured +to-day like a Christian Confessor and martyr, and the former as a +diabolical persecutor; many moving incidents being introduced not found +in history, and many ingenious inferences and suppositions tending to +blacken the Reformer's character. Judging from the frequency of the deep +groans, loud amens, and noisy hallelujahs of the congregation during the +narrative, had Calvin suddenly thrust in among us his hatchet face and +goat's beard, he would have been hissed and pelted, nay possibly been +lynched and soused in the branch; while the excellent Servetus would +have been _toted_ on our shoulders, and feasted in the tents on fried +ham, cold chicken fixins and horse sorrel pies! + +Here is a specimen of Mr. S.'s mode of exciting triumphant exclamation, +amens, groans, etc., against Calvin and his followers: "Dear sisters, +don't you love the tender little darling babes that hang on your +parental bosoms? (amen!)--Yes! I know you do--(amen! amen!)--Yes, I +know, I know it.--(Amen, amen! hallelujah!) Now don't it make your +parental hearts throb with anguish to think those dear infantile +darlings might some day be out burning brush and fall into the flames +and be burned to death! (deep groans.)--Yes, it does, it does! But oh! +sisters, oh! mothers! how can you think your babes mightn't get religion +and die and be burned for ever and ever? (O! forbid--amen--groans.) But, +oho! only think--only think, oh! would you ever a had them darling +infantile sucklings born, if you had a known they were to be burned in a +brush heap! (No, no!--groans--shrieks.) What! what! _what!_ if you had +_foreknown_ they must have gone to hell?--(hoho! hoho--amen!) And does +anybody think He is such a tyrant as to make spotless, innocent babies +just to damn them? (No! in a voice of thunder.)--No! sisters! no! no! +mothers! No! _no!_ sinners, _no!!_--He ain't such a tyrant! +Let John Calvin burn, torture and roast, but He never foreordained +babies, as Calvin says, to damnation! (damnation!--echoed by +hundreds.)--Hallelujah! 'tis a free salvation! Glory! a free +salvation!--(Here Mr. S. battered the rail of the pulpit with his fists, +and kicked the bottom with his feet--many screamed--some cried +amen!--others groaned and hissed--and more than a dozen females of two +opposite colors arose and clapped their hands as if engaged in +starching, etc., etc.) No-h-o! _'tis_ a free, a free, a _free_ +salvation!--away with Calvin! 'tis for all! _all!_ ALL! Yes! shout it +out! clap on! rejoice! rejoice! oho-oho! sinners, sinners, sinners, +oh-ho-oho!" etc., etc. + +Here was maintained for some minutes the most edifying uproar of +shouting, bellowing, crying, clapping and stamping, mingled with +hysterical laughing, termed out there "holy laughing," and even dancing! +and barking! called also "holy!"--till, at the partial subsidence of the +bedlam, the orator resumed his eloquence. + +It is singular Mr. S. overlooked an objection to the divine Providence +arising from his own illustration. That children do sometimes perish by +being burnt and drowned, is undeniable; yet is not their existence +prevented--and that in the very case where the sisters were induced to +say _they_ would have prevented their existence! But, in justice to Mr. +S., we must say that he seemed to have anticipated the objection, and to +have furnished the reply; for, said he, in one part of his discourse, +"God did not _wish_ to foreknow _some_ things!" + +But our friend's mode of avoiding a predestined death--if such an +absurdity be supposed--deserves all praise for the facility and +simplicity of the contrivance. "Let us," said he, "for argument's sake, +grant that I, the Rev. Elder Sprightly, am foreordained to be drowned, +in the river, at Smith's Ferry, next Thursday morning, at twenty-two +minutes after ten o'clock; and suppose I know it; and suppose I am a +free, moral, voluntary, accountable agent, as Calvinists say--do you +think I'm going to be drowned? No!--I would stay at home all day; and +you'll never ketch the Rev. Elder Sprightly at Smith's Ferry--nor near +the river neither!" + +Reader, is it any wonder Calvinism is on the decline? Logic it _can_ +stand; but human nature thus excited in opposition, it can not stand. +Hence, throughout our vast assembly to-day, this unpopular _ism_, in +spite of Calvin and the Epistle to the Romans, was put down; if not by +acclamation, yet by exclamation--by shouting--by roaring--by groaning +and hissing--by clapping and stamping--by laughing, and crying, and +whining; and thus the end of the sermon was gained and the _preacher_ +glorified! + +The introductory discourse in the afternoon was by the Rev. Remarkable +Novus. This was a gentleman I had often the pleasure of entertaining at +my house in Woodville; and he _was_ a Christian in sentiment and +feeling; for though properly and decidedly a warm friend to his own +sect, he was charitably disposed toward myself and others that differed +from him ecclesiastically. His talents were moderate; but his voice was +transcendently excellent. It was rich, deep, mellow, liquid and +sonorous, and capable of any inflections. It could preserve its melody +in an unruffled flow, at a pitch far beyond the highest point reached by +the best-cultivated voice. His fancy naturally capricious, was indulged +without restraint; yet not being a learned or well-read man, he mistook +words for ideas, and hence employed without stint all the terms in his +vocabulary for the commonest thoughts. He believed, too, like most of +his brotherhood, that excitement and agitation were necessary to +conversion and of the essence of religion; and this, with a proneness +to delight in the music and witchery of his own wonderful voice, made +Mr. Novus an eccentric preacher, and induced him often to excel at +camp-meetings, the very extravagances of his clerical brethren, whom +more than once he has ridiculed and condemned at my fireside. + +The camp-meeting was, in fact, too great a temptation for my friend's +temperament, and the very theater for the full display of his +magnificent voice; and naturally, this afternoon, off he set at a +tangent, interrupting the current of his sermon by extemporaneous bursts +of warning, entreaty and exhortation. Here is something like his +discourse--yet done by me in a _subdued tone_--as, I repeat, are most +extravaganzas of the ecclesiastical and spiritual sort, not only here, +but in all other parts of the work. + +"My text, dear hearers," said he, "on this auspicious, and solemn, and +heaven-ordered occasion, is that exhortation of the inspired apostle, +'Walk worthy of your vocation.' + +"And what, my dear brethren, what do you imagine and conjecture our holy +penman meant by 'walking?' Think ye he meant a physical walking, and a +moving, and a going backward and forward thus? (represented by Mr. N.'s +proceeding, or rather marching, _a la militaire_, several times from end +to end of the staging). No, sirs!--it was not a literal walking and +locomotion, a moving and agitating of the natural legs and limbs. No, +sirs!--no!--but it was a moral, a spiritual, a religious, ay! yes! a +philosophical and metaphorically figurative walking, our holy apostle +meant! + +"Philosophic, did I say? Yes: philosophic _did_ I say. For religion is +the most philosophical thing in the universe--ay! throughout the whole +expansive infinitude of the divine empire. Tell me, deluded infidels and +mistaken unbelievers! tell me, ain't philosophy what's according to the +consistency of nature's regular laws? and what's more onsentaneous and +homogeneous to man's sublimated moral nature, than religion? Yes! tell +me! Yes! yes! I am for a philosophical religion, and a philosophical +religion is for _me_--ay! we are mutually made and formed for this +beautiful reciprocality! + +"And yet some say we make too much noise--even some of our respected +Woodville merchants--(meaning the author). But what's worth making a +noise about in the dark mundane of our terrestrial sphere, if religion +ain't? People always, and everywhere in all places, make most noise +about what they opine to be most precious. See! yon banner streaming +with golden stars and glorious stripes over congregated troops, on the +Fourth of July, that ever-memorable--that never-to-be-_forgotten_ day, +which celebrates the grand annual anniversary of our nation's liberty +and independence! when our forefathers and ancestors burst asunder and +tore forever off the iron chains of political thraldom! and rose in +plenitude, ay! in the magnificence of their grandeur, and crushed their +oppressors!--yes! and hurled down dark despotism from the lofty pinnacle +of its summit altitude, where she was seated on her liberty-crushing +throne, and hurled her out of her iron chariot, as her wheels thundered +over the prostrate slaves of power!--(Amen)--Yes!--hark!--we make a +noise about that! But what's civil liberty to religious liberty, and +emancipated disenthraldom from the dark despotism of yonder terrific +prince of darkness! whose broad, black, piniony wings spread wide o'er +the aerial concave like a dense cloud upon a murky sky?--(A-a-men!)--And +ain't it, ye men of yards and measures, philosophical to make a noise +about this?--(Amen!--yes!) Yes! _yes!_ and I ain't ashamed to rejoice +and shout aloud. Ay! as long as the prophet was ordered to stamp with +his foot, I will stamp with my foot;--(here he stamped till the platform +trembled for its safety)--and to smite with his hand, I will _smite_ +with my hand--(slapping alternate hands on alternate thighs.)--Yes! and +I will shout, too!--and cry aloud, and spare not--glory! +for--ever!--(and here his voice rang out like the sweet, clear tones of +a bugle). + +"And, therefore, my dear sisters and brethren, let us walk worthy of our +vocation; not with the natural legs of the physical corporation, but in +the apostolical way, with the metaphysical and figurative legs of the +mind--(here Mr. N. caught some one smiling).--Take care, sinner, take +care! curl not the scornful nose--I'm willing to be a fool for +religion's sake--but turn not up the scornful nose--do its ministers no +harm! Sinner, mark me!--in yon deep and tangled grove, where tall, +aspiring trees wave green and lofty heads in the free air of balmy +skies--there sinner, an hour ago, when the sonorous horn called on our +embattled hosts to go to private prayer! an hour ago, in yonder grove I +knelt and prayed for you!--(hooh!)--yes! I prayed some poor soul might +be given for my hire!--and he promised me one!--(Glory! glory!--ah! give +him one!)--laughing sinner!--take care!--I'll have you!--(Grant +it--amen!--ooohoo!) Look out, I'm going to fire--(assuming the attitude +of rifle-shooting)--bang!--may He send that through your heart!--may it +pierce clean home through joints and marrow!--and let all people say +amen!--(and here amen _was_ said, and not in the tame style of the +American Archbishop of Canterbury's cathedral, be assured; but whether +the spiritual bullet hit the chap aimed at, I never learned; if it did, +his groans were inaudible in the alarming thunder of that amen). + +"Ay! ay! that's the way! that's the way! don't be ashamed of your +vocation--that's the way to walk and let your light shine! Now, some +wise folks despise light, and call for miracles: but when we can't have +one kind of light, let us be philosophical, and take another. For my +part, when I'm bogging about these dark woods, far away in the silent, +somber shadows, I rejoice in sunshine; and would prefer it of choice, +rather than all other celestial and translucent luminaries: but when the +gentle fanning zephyrs of the shadowy night breathe soft among the +trembling leaves and sprays of the darkening forests, then I rejoice in +moonshine: and when the moonshine dims and pales away, with the waning +silvery queen of heaven in her azure zone, I look up to the blue concave +of the circular vault, and rejoice in starlight. No! _no!_ NO! any +light!--give us any light rather than _none_!--(Ah, do, good--!) Yes! +yes! we are the light of the world, and so let us let our light shine, +whether sunshine, or moonshine, or starlight!--(oohoo!)--and then the +poor benighted sinner, bogging about this terraqueous, but dark and +mundane sphere, will have a light like a pole star of the distant north, +to point and guide him to the sunlit climes of yonder world of bright +and blazing bliss!"--(A-a-amen!) + +Such is part of the sermon. His concluding prayer ended thus--(Divine +names omitted). + +"Oh, come down! come, come down! _down!_ now!--to-night!--do wonders +then! come down in _might_! come down in _power_! let salvation _roll_! +_Come_ down! _come!_ and let the earthquaking mighty noise of thy +thundering chariot wheels be heard, and felt, and seen, and experienced +in the warring elements of our spiritualized hearts!" + +During the prayer, many petitions and expressions were so rapturously +and decidedly encored, that our friend kindly repeated them; and +sometimes, like public singers, with handsome variations; and many +petitions by amateur zealots were put forth, without any notice of the +current prayer offered by Mr. N., yet evidently having in view some +elegancy of his sermon. And not a few petitions, I regret to say, seemed +to misapprehend the drift and scope of the preacher. One of this sort +was the earnest ejaculations of an old and worthy brother, who, in a +hollow, sepulchral, and rather growly voice, bellowed out in a very +beautiful part of the grand prayer: "Oohhoo! take away _moonshine_!" + +But our first performance was to be at night: and at the first _toot_ of +the tin horn we assembled in expectation of a "good time." For, 1. All +day preparation had been making for the night; and the actors seemed +evidently in restraint, as in mere rehearsal: 2. The night better suits +displays and scenes of any kind: but 3. The African was to preach; and +rumor had said, "he was a most powerful big preacher, that could stir up +folks mighty quick, and use up the ole feller in less than no time." + +After prefatory prayers and hymns, and _pithy_ exhortations by several +brothers of the Circassian breed, our dusky divine, the Rev. Mizraim +Ham, commenced his sermon, founded on the duel between David and +Goliath. + +This discourse we shall condense into a few pages; although the comedy +or _mellow_-drama--for it greatly mellowed and relaxed the +muscles--required for its entire action a full hour. There was, indeed, +a prologue, but the rest was mainly dialogue, in which Mr. Ham +wonderfully personated all the different speakers, varying his tone, +manner, attitude, etc., as varying characters and circumstances +demanded. We fear much of the spirit has evaporated in this +condensation; but that evil is unavoidable. + + +REV. MIZRAIM HAM'S DISCOURSE + +"Bruthurn and sisturn, tention, if you pleases, while I want you for to +understand this here battul most partiklur 'zact, or may be you +moughtn't comprend urn. Furst place, I gwyin to undevur to sarcumscribe +fust the 'cashin of this here battul: second place, the 'comdashins of +the armies: third place, the folkses as was gwyin for to fite and didn't +want to, and some did: and last and fourth place, I'm gwyin for to show +purtiklur 'zact them as fit juul, and git victry and git kill'd. + +"Tention, if you please, while I fustly sarcumscribe the 'casion of this +here battul. Bruthurn and sisturn, you see them thar hethun Fillystines, +what warn't circumcised, they wants to ketch King Sol and his 'ar folks +for to make um slave; and so, they cums down to pick a quorl, and begins +a-totin off all their cawn, and wouldn't 'low um to make no hoes to hoe +um, nor no homnee. And that 'ar, you see, stick in King Solsis gizurd; +and he ups and says, says he, 'I'm not gwying to be used up that 'ar +away by them uncircumcis'd hethun Fillystines, and let um tote off our +folkses cawn to chuck to thar hogs, and take away our hoes so we can't +hoe um--and so, Jonathun, we'll drum up and list soljurs and try um a +battul.' And then King Sol and his 'ar folks they goes up, and the +hethun and theirn comes down and makes war. And this is the 'cashin why +they fit. + +"Tention, 'gin, if you pleases, I'm gwyin in the next place secondly, to +show the 'comdashins of this here battul, which was so fashin like. The +Fillystines they had thar army up thar on a mounting, and King Sol he +had hissin over thar, like, across a branch, amoss like that a one +thar--(pointing)--and it was chuck full of sling rock all along on the +bottom. And so they was both on um camp'd out; this a one on this 'ar +side, and tother a one on tother, and the lilly branch tween um--and +them's the 'comdashins. + +"Tention once more agin, as 'caze next place thirdly, I'm a gwyin to +give purtiklur 'zact 'count of sum folkses what fit and sum didn't want +to. And lubly sinnahs, maybe you minds um, as how King Sol and his +soljurs was pepper hot for fite when he fust liss um; but now, lubly +sinnahs, when they gits up to the Fillystines, they cool off mighty +quick, I tell you! 'Caze why? I tell you; why, 'caze a grate, big, ugly +ole jiunt, with grate big eyes, so fashin--(Mr. Ham made giant's eyes +here)--he kums a rampin' out a frount o' them 'ar rigiments, like the +ole devul a gwyin about like a half-starv'd lion a-seeking to devour +poor lubly sinnahs! And he cum a-jumpin and a-tearin out so +fashin--(actions to suit)--to git sum of King Solsis soljurs to fite urn +juul; and King Sol, lubly bruthurn and sisturn, he gits sker'd mighty +quick, and he says to Jonathun and tother big officers, says he, 'I +ain't a gwyin for to fite that grate big fellah.' And arter that they +ups and says, 'We ain't a gwying for to fite um nuther, 'caze he's all +kiver'd with sheetirun, and his head's up so high we muss stand a hoss +back to reach um!'--the jiunt he was _so big_!! + +"And then King Sol he quite down in the jaw, and he turn and ax if +somebody wouldn't hunt up a soljur as would fite juul with um; and he'd +give um his dawtah, the prinsuss, for wife, and make um king's +son-in-law. And then one old koretur, they call him Abnah, he comes up +and says to Sol so: 'Please, your majustee, sir, I kin git a young +fellah to fite um,' says he. And Abnah tells how Davy had jist rid up in +his carruge and left um with the man what tend the hossis--and how he +heern Davy a quorl'n with his bruthers and a wantun to fite the jiunt. +Then King Sol, he feel mighty glad, I tell you, sinnahs, and he make um +bring um up, and King Sol he begins a-talkin so, and Davy he answers +so:-- + +"'What's your name, lilly fellah?' + +"'I was krissen'd Davy.' + +"'Who's your farder?' + +"'They call um Jesse.' + +"'What you follur for livin?' + +"'I 'tend my farder's sheep.' + +"'What you kum arter? Ain't you affeerd of that 'ar grate ugly ole jiunt +up thar, lilly Davy?' + +"'I kum to see arter my udder brudurs, and bring um in our carruge some +cheese and muttun, and some clene shirt and trowser, and have tother +ones wash'd. And when I cum I hear ole Golliawh a hollerin out for +somebody to cum and fite juul with um; and all the soljurs round thar +they begins for to make traks mighty quick, I tell you, please your +majuste, sir, for thar tents; but, says I, what you run for? I'm not +a-gwyin for to run away--if King Sol wants somebody for to fite the +jiunt, I'll fite um for um.' + +"'I mighty feer'd, lilly Davy you too leetul for um--' + +"'No! King Sol, I kin lick um. One day I gits asleep ahind a rock, and +out kums a lion and a bawr, and begins a-totin off a lilly lam; and when +I heern um roarin and pawin 'bout, I rubs my eyes and sees um gwyin to +the mountings--and I arter and ketch'd up and kill um both without no +gun nor sword--and I bring back poor lilly lamb. I kin lick ole Goliawh, +I tell you, please your majuste, sir.' + +"Then King Sol he wery glad, and pat um on the head, and calls um 'lilly +Davy,' and wants to put on um his own armur made of brass and sheetirum +and to take his sword, but Davy didn't like um, but said he'd trust to +his sling. And then out he goes to fite the ole jiunt; and this 'ar +brings me to the fourth and last diwishin of our surmun. + +"'Tention once more agin, for lass time, as I'm gwyin to give most +purtikurlust 'zactest 'count of the juul atween lilly Davy and ole +Goliawh the jiunt, to show, lubly sinnah! how the Lord's peepul without +no carnul gun nor sword, can fite ole Bellzybub and knock um over with +the sling rock of prayer, as lilly Davy knocked over Goliawh with hissin +out of the Branch. + +"And to 'lusterut the juul and make um spikus, I'll show 'zactly how +they talk'd, and jaw'd, and fit it all out; and so ole Goliawh when he +sees Davy a kumun, he hollurs out so, and lilly Davy he say back so: + +"'What you kum for, lilly Jew?--' + +"'What I kum for? you'll find out mighty quick, I tell you--I kum for +fite juul--' + +"'Huhh! huhh! haw!--t'ink I'm gwyin to fite puttee lilly baby? I want +King Sol or Abnah, or a big soljur man--' + +"'Hole your jaw--I'll make you laugh tother side, ole grizzle-gruzzle, +'rectly--I'm man enough for biggust jiunt Fillystine.' + +"'Go way, poor lilly boy! go home, lilly baby, to your mudder, and git +sugar plum--I no want kill puttee lilly boy--' + +"'Kum on!--don't be afeerd!--don't go for to run away!--I'll ketch you +and lick you--' + +"'You leetul raskul--I'll kuss you by all our gods--I'll cut out your +sassy tung--I'll break your blackguard jaw--I'll rip you up and give um +to the dogs and crows--' + +"'Don't cuss so, ole Golly! I 'sposed you wanted to fite juul--so kum on +with your old irun-pot hat on--you'll git belly full mighty quick--' + +"'You nasty leetle raskul, I'll kum and kill you dead as chopped +sassudge.'" + +Here the preacher represented the advance of the parties; and gave a +florid and wonderfully effective description of the closing act partly +by words and partly by pantomime; exhibiting innumerable marches and +counter-marches to get to windward, and all the postures, and gestures, +and defiances, till at last he personated David putting his hand into a +bag for a stone; and then making his cotton handkerchief into a sling, +he whirled it with fury half a dozen times around his head, and then let +fly with much skill at Goliath; and at the same instant halloing with +the frenzy of a madman--"Hurraw for lilly Davy!" At that cry he, with +his left hand, struck himself a violent slap on the forehead, to +represent the blow of the sling-stone hitting the giant; and then in +person of Goliath he dropped _quasi_ dead upon the platform amid the +deafening plaudits of the congregation; all of whom, some spiritually, +some sympathetically, and some carnally, took up the preacher's triumph +shout-- + +"Hurraw! for lilly Davy!" + +How the Rev. Mizraim Ham made his exit from the boards I could not +see--perhaps he rolled or crawled off. But he did not suffer +decapitation, like "ole Golly": since in ten minutes, his woolly pate +suddenly popped up among the other sacred heads that were visible over +the front railing of the rostrum, as all kept moving to and fro in the +wild tossings of religious frenzy. + +Scarcely had Mr. Ham fallen at his post, when a venerable old warrior, +with matchless intrepidity, stepped into the vacated spot; and without a +sign of fear carried on the contest against the Arch Fiend, whose great +ally had been so recently overthrown--i.e., Goliath, (not Mr. Ham). Yet +excited, as evidently was this veteran, he still could not forego his +usual introduction, stating how old he was; where he was born; where he +obtained religion; how long he had been a preacher; how many miles he +had traveled in a year; and when he buried his wife--all of which +edifying truths were received with the usual applauses of a devout and +enlightened assembly. But this introduction over--which did not occupy +more than fifteen or twenty minutes--he began his attack in fine style, +waxing louder and louder as he proceeded, till he exceeded all the old +gentlemen to "holler" I ever heard, and indeed old ladies either. + + +EXTRACT FROM HIS DISCOURSE + +"... Yes, sinners! you'll all have to fall and be knock'd down some time +or nuther, like the great giant we've heern tell on, when the Lord's +sarvints come and fight agin you! Oho! sinner! sinner!--oh!--I hope you +may be knock'd down to-night--now!--this moment--and afore you die and +go to judgment! Yes! oho! yes! oh!--I say judgment--for it's appinted +once to die and then the judgment--oho! oh! And what a time ther'll be +then! You'll see all these here trees--and them 'are stars, and yonder +silver moon afire!--and all the alliments a-meltin and runnin down with +fervent heat-ah!"--(I have elsewhere stated that the _unlearned_ +preachers out there (?) are by the vulgar--(not the _poor_)--but the +_vulgar_, supposed to be more favored in preaching than man-made +preachers; and that the sign of an unlearned preacher's inspiration +being in full _blast_ is his inhalations, which puts an ah! to +the end of sentences, members, words, and even exclamations, till +his breath is all gone, and no more can be _sucked_ in)--"Oho! +hoah! fervent heat-ah! and the trumpit a-soundin-ah!--and the dead +arisin-ah!--and all on us a-flyin-ah!--to be judged-ah!--O-hoah! +sinner--sinner--sinner--sinner-ah! And what do I see away +thar'-ah!--down the Mississippi-ah!--thar's a man jist done a-killin-ah +another-ah!--and up he goes with his bloody dagger-ah! And what's that I +see to the East-ah! where proud folks live clothed in purple-ah! and +fine linen-ah!--I see 'em round a table a drinkin a decoction of Indian +herb-ah!--and up they go with cups in thar hands-ah! and +see--ohoah!--see! in yonder doggery some a dancin-ah! and +fiddlin-ah!--and up they go-ah! with cards-ah! and fiddle-ah!" etc., +etc. + +Here the tempest around drowned the voice of the old hero; although, +from the frantic violence of his gestures, the frightful distortion of +his features, and the Pythonic foam of his mouth, he was plainly blazing +away at the enemy. The uproar, however, so far subsided as to allow my +hearing his closing exhortation, which was this: + +"... Yes, I say--fall down--fall down all of you, on your +knees!--shout!--cry aloud!--spare not!--stamp with the _foot_!--smite +with the _hand_!--down! _down!_--that's it--down brethren!--down +preachers!--down _sisters_!--pray away!--take it by storm!--_fire_ away! +fire _away_! not one at a time! not two together-ah!--a single shot the +devil will _dodge-ah_!--give it to him _all at once_--fire a _whole +platoon_!--at him!!" + +And then such platoon firing as followed! If Satan stood that, he can +stand much more than the worthy folks thought he could. And, indeed, the +effect was wonderful!--more than forty thoughtless sinners that came for +fun, and twice as many backsliders were instantly knocked over!--and +there all lay, some with violent jerkings and writhings of body, and +some uttering the most piercing and dismaying shrieks and groans! The +fact is, I was nearly knocked down myself-- + +"You?--Mr. Carlton!!" + +Yes--indeed--but not by the hail of spiritual shot falling so thick +around me; it was by a sudden rush towards my station, where I stood +mounted on a stump. And this rush was occasioned by a wish to see a +stout fellow lying on the straw in the pen, a little to my left, +groaning and praying, and yet kicking and pummelling away as if +scuffling with a sturdy antagonist. Near him were several men and women +at prayer, and one or more whispering into his ear; while on a small +stump above stood a person superintending the contest, and so as to +insure victory to the right party. Now the prostrate man, who like a +spirited tom-cat seemed to fight best on his back, was no other than our +celebrated New Purchase bully--Rowdy Bill! And this being reported +through the congregation, the rush had taken place by which I was so +nearly overturned. I contrived, however, to regain my stand, shared +indeed now with several others, we hugging one another and standing on +tip-toes and our necks elongated as possible; and thus we managed to +have a pretty fair view of matters. + +About this time the Superintendent in a very loud voice cried out--"Let +him alone, brothers! let him alone sisters! keep on praying!--it's a +hard fight--the devil's got a tight grip yet! He don't want to lose poor +Bill--but he'll let go soon--Bill's gittin the better on him fast!--Pray +away!" + +Rowdy Bill, be it known, was famous as a gouger, and so expert was he in +his antioptical vocation, that in a few moments he usually bored out an +antagonist's eyes, or made him cry _peccavi_. Indeed, could he, on the +present occasion, have laid hold of his unseen foe's head--spiritually +we mean--he would--figuratively, of course--soon have caused him to ease +off or let go entirely his metaphorical grip. So, however, thought one +friend in the assembly--Bill's wife. For Bill was a man after her own +heart; and she often said that "with fair play she sentimentally allowed +her Bill could lick ary a man in the 'varsal world, and his weight in +wild cats to boot." Hence, the kind-hearted creature, hearing that Bill +was actually fighting with the evil one, had pressed in from the +outskirts to see fair play; but now hearing Bill was in reality down, +and apparently undermost, and above all, the words of the +Superintendent, declaring that the fiend had a tight grip of the poor +fellow, her excitement would no longer be controlled; and, collecting +her vocal energies, she screamed out her common exhortation to Bill, and +which, when heeded, had heretofore secured him immediate +victories--"Gouge him, Billy!--gouge him, _Billy!--gouge_ him!" + +This spirited exclamation was instantly shouted by Bill's cronies and +partizans--mischievously, _maybe_, for we have no right to judge of +men's motives, in meetings:--but a few--_friends_, doubtless, of the old +fellow--cried out in very irreverent tone--"Bite him! devil--_bite_ +him!" Upon which the faithful wife, in a tone of voice that beggars +description, reiterated her--"Gouge him," etc.--in which she was again +joined by her husband's allies, and that to the alarm of his invisible +foe; for Bill now rose to his knees, and on uttering some mystic jargon +symptomatic of conversion, he was said to have "got religion";--and then +all his new friends and spiritual guides united in fresh prayers and +shouts of thanksgiving. + +It was now very late at night; and joining a few other citizens of +Woodville, we were soon in our saddles and buried in the darkness of the +forest. For a long time, however, the uproar of the spiritual elements +at the camp continued at intervals to swell and diminish on the hearing; +and, often came a yell that rose far above the united din of other +screams and outcries. Nay, at the distance of nearly two miles, could be +distinguished a remarkable and sonorous _oh_!--like the faintly heard +explosion of a mighty elocutional class, practising under a master. And +yet my comrades, who had heard this peculiar cry more than once, all +declared that this wonderful _oh_-ing was performed by the separate +voice of our townsman, Eolus Letherlung, Esq.! + + +CONCLUSION + +A camp-meeting of _this sort_ is, all things considered, the very best +contrivance for making the largest number of converts in the shortest +possible time; and also for enlarging most speedily the bounds of a +Church _Visible_ and _Militant_. + + + + +A RHYME FOR CHRISTMAS + +BY JOHN CHALLING + +Publication delayed by the author's determined but futile attempt to +find the rhyme + + + If _Browning_ only were here, + This yule-ish time o' the year-- + This mule-ish time o' the year,-- + Stubbornly still refusing + To add to the rhymes we've been using + Since the first Christmas-glee + (One might say) chantingly + Rendered by rudest hinds + Of the pelt-clad shepherding kinds + Who didn't know Song from b- + U-double-l's-foot!--Pah!-- + (Haply the old Egyptian _ptah_-- + Though I'd hardly wager a baw- + Bee--or a _bumble_, for that-- + And that's flat!).... + But the thing that I want to get at + Is a rhyme for _Christmas_-- + Nay! nay! nay! nay! not _isthmus_-- + The t- and the h- sounds covertly are + Gnawing the nice auracular + Senses until one may hear them gnar-- + And the terminal, too, for m_a_s, is m_u_s, + So _that_ will not do for us. + Try for it--sigh for it--cry for it--die for it! + O _but_ if Browning were here to apply for it, + _He'd_ rhyme you _Christmas_-- + _He'd_ make a _mist pass_ + Over--something o' ruther-- + Or find you the rhyme's very brother + In lovers that _kissed fast_ + _To baffle the moon_,--as he'd lose the _t_-final + In fas-t as it blended with _to_ (mark the spinal + Elision--tip-clipt as exquisitely nicely + And hyper-exactingly sliced to precisely + The extremest technical need): Or he'd _twist glass_, + Or he'd have a _kissed lass_, + Or shake neath our noses some great giant _fist-mass_-- + No matter! If Robert were here, _he_ could do it, + Though it took us till Christmas next year to see through it. + + + + +MY CIGARETTE[1] + +BY CHARLES F. LUMMIS + + + My cigarette! The amulet + That charms afar unrest and sorrow; + The magic wand that far beyond + To-day can conjure up to-morrow. + Like love's desire, thy crown of fire + So softly with the twilight blending, + And ah! meseems, a poet's dreams + Are in thy wreaths of smoke ascending. + + My cigarette! Can I forget + How Kate and I, in sunny weather, + Sat in the shade the elm-tree made + And rolled the fragrant weed together? + I at her side beatified, + To hold and guide her fingers willing; + She rolling slow the paper's snow, + Putting my heart in with the filling. + + My cigarette! I see her yet, + The white smoke from her red lips curling, + Her dreaming eyes, her soft replies, + Her gentle sighs, her laughter purling! + Ah, dainty roll, whose parting soul + Ebbs out in many a snowy billow, + I, too, would burn if I might earn + Upon her lips so soft a pillow! + + Ah, cigarette! The gay coquette + Has long forgot the flames she lighted, + And you and I unthinking by + Alike are thrown, alike are slighted. + The darkness gathers fast without, + A raindrop on my window plashes; + My cigarette and heart are out, + And naught is left me but the ashes. + +[Footnote 1: By permission of Life Publishing Company.] + + + + +IT IS TIME TO BEGIN TO CONCLUDE + +BY A.H. LAIDLAW + + + Ye Parsons, desirous all sinners to save, + And to make each a prig or a prude, + If two thousand long years have not made us behave, + It is time you began to conclude. + + Ye Husbands, who wish your sweet mates to grow mum, + And whose tongues you have never subdued, + If ten years of your reign have not made them grow dumb, + It is time to begin to conclude. + + Ye Matrons of men whose brown meerschaum still mars + The sweet kiss with tobacco bedewed, + After pleading nine years, if they still puff cigars, + It is time you began to conclude. + + Ye Lawyers, who aim to reform all the land, + And your statutes forever intrude, + If five thousand lost years have not worked as you planned, + It is time to begin to conclude. + + Ye Lovers, who sigh for the heart of a maid, + And forty-four years have pursued, + If two scores of young years have not taught you your trade, + It is time you began to conclude. + + Ye Doctors, who claim to cure every ill, + And so much of mock learning exude, + If the _Comma Bacillus_ still laughs at your pill, + It is time to begin to conclude. + + Ye Maidens of Fifty, who lonely abide, + Yet who heartily scout solitude, + If Jack with his whiskers is not at your side, + It is time to begin to conclude. + + + + +NOTHIN' DONE[2] + +BY SAM S. STINSON + + + Winter is too cold fer work; + Freezin' weather makes me shirk. + + Spring comes on an' finds me wishin' + I could end my days a-fishin'. + + Then in summer, when it's hot, + I say work kin go to pot. + + Autumn days, so calm an' hazy, + Sorter make me kinder lazy. + + That's the way the seasons run. + Seems I can't git nothin' done. + +[Footnote 2: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +MARGINS + +BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE + + + My dreams so fair that used to be, + The promises of youth's bright clime, + So changed, alas; come back to me + Sweet memories of that hopeful time + Before I learned, with doubt oppressed, + There are no birds in next year's nest. + + The seed I sowed in fragrant spring + The summer's sun to vivify + With his warm kisses, ripening + To golden harvest by and by, + Got caught by drought, like all the rest-- + There are no birds in next year's nest. + + The stock I bought at eighty-nine, + Broke down next day to twenty-eight; + Some squatters jumped my silver mine, + My own convention smashed my slate; + No more in "futures" I'll invest-- + There are no birds in next year's nest. + + + + +THE DUBIOUS FUTURE + +BY BILL NYE + + +Without wishing to alarm the American people, or create a panic, I +desire briefly and seriously to discuss the great question, "Whither are +we drifting, and what is to be the condition of the coming man?" We can +not shut our eyes to the fact that mankind is passing through a great +era of change; even womankind is not built as she was a few brief years +ago. And is it not time, fellow citizens, that we pause to consider what +is to be the future of the American? + +Food itself has been the subject of change both in the matter of +material and preparation. This must affect the consumer in such a way as +to some day bring about great differences. Take, for instance, the +oyster, one of our comparatively modern food and game fishes, and watch +the effects of science upon him. At one time the oyster browsed around +and ate what he could find in Neptune's back-yard, and we had to eat him +as we found him. Now we take a herd of oysters off the trail, all run +down, and feed them artificially till they swell up to a fancy size, and +bring a fancy price. Where will this all lead at last, I ask as a +careful scientist? Instead of eating apples, as Adam did, we work the +fruit up into apple-jack and pie, while even the simple oyster is +perverted, and instead of being allowed to fatten up in the fall on +acorns and ancient mariners, spurious flesh is put on his bones by the +artificial osmose and dialysis of our advanced civilization. How can +you make an oyster stout or train him down by making him jerk a health +lift so many hours every day, or cultivate his body at the expense of +his mind, without ultimately not only impairing the future usefulness of +the oyster himself, but at the same time affecting the future of the +human race who feed upon him? + +I only use the oyster as an illustration, and I do not wish to cause +alarm, but I say that if we stimulate the oyster artificially and swell +him up by scientific means, we not only do so at the expense of his +better nature and keep him away from his family, but we are making our +mark on the future race of men. Oyster-fattening is now, of course, in +its infancy. Only a few years ago an effort was made at St. Louis to +fatten cove oysters while in the can, but the system was not well +understood, and those who had it in charge only succeeded in making the +can itself more plump. But now oysters are kept on ground feed and given +nothing to do for a few weeks, and even the older and overworked +sway-backed and rickety oysters of the dim and murky past are made to +fill out, and many of them have to put a gore in the waistband of their +shells. I only speak of the oyster incidentally, as one of the objects +toward which science has turned its attention, and I assert with the +utmost confidence that the time will come, unless science should get a +set-back, when the present hunting-case oyster will give place to the +open-face oyster, grafted on the octopus and big enough to feed a hotel. +Further than that, the oyster of the future will carry in a hip-pocket a +flask of vinegar, half a dozen lemons and two little Japanese bottles, +one of which will contain salt and the other pepper, and there will be +some way provided by which you can tell which is which. But are we +improving the oyster now? That is a question we may well ask ourselves. +Is this a healthy fat which we are putting on him, or is it bloat? And +what will be the result in the home-life of the oyster? We take him from +all domestic influences whatever in order to make a swell of him by our +modern methods, but do we improve his condition morally, and what is to +be the great final result on man? + +The reader will see by the questions I ask that I am a true scientist. +Give me an overcoat pocket full of lower-case interrogation marks and a +medical report to run to, and I can speak on the matter of science and +advancement till Reason totters on her throne. + +But food and oysters do not alone affect the great, pregnant future. Our +race is being tampered with not only by means of adulterations, +political combinations and climatic changes, but even our methods of +relaxation are productive of peculiar physical conditions, malformations +and some more things of the same kind. + +Cigarette smoking produces a flabby and endogenous condition of the +optic nerve, and constant listening at a telephone, always with the same +ear, decreases the power of the other ear till it finally just stands +around drawing its salary, but actually refusing to hear anything. +Carrying an eight-pound cane makes a man lopsided, and the muscular and +nervous strain that is necessary to retain a single eyeglass in place +and keep it out of the soup, year after year, draws the mental stimulus +that should go to the thinker itself, until at last the mind wanders +away and forgets to come back, or becomes atrophied, and the great +mental strain incident to the work of pounding sand or coming in when it +rains is more than it is equal to. + +Playing billiards, accompanied by the vicious habit of pounding on the +floor with the butt of the cue ever and anon, produces at last optical +illusions, phantasmagoria and visions of pink spiders with navy-blue +abdomens. Baseball is not alone highly injurious to the umpire, but it +also induces crooked fingers, bone spavin and hives among habitual +players. Jumping the rope induces heart disease. Poker is unduly +sedentary in its nature. Bicycling is highly injurious, especially to +skittish horses. Boating induces malaria. Lawn tennis can not be played +in the house. Archery is apt to be injurious to those who stand around +and watch the game, and pugilism is a relaxation that jars heavily on +some natures. + +Foot-ball produces what may be called the endogenous or ingrowing +toenail, stringhalt and mania. Copenhagen induces a melancholy, and the +game of bean bag is unduly exciting. Horse racing is too brief and +transitory as an outdoor game, requiring weeks and months for +preparation and lasting only long enough for a quick person to ejaculate +"Scat!" The pitcher's arm is a new disease, the outgrowth of base-ball; +the lawn-tennis elbow is another result of a popular open-air amusement, +and it begins to look as though the coming American would hear with one +overgrown telephonic ear, while the other will be rudimentary only. He +will have an abnormal base-ball arm with a lawn-tennis elbow, a powerful +foot-ball-kicking leg with the superior toe driven back into the palm of +his foot. He will have a highly trained biceps muscle over his eye to +retain his glass, and that eye will be trained to shoot a curved glance +over a high hat and witness anything on the stage. + +Other features grow abnormal, or shrink up from the lack of use, as a +result of our customs. For instance, the man whose business it is to get +along a crowded street with the utmost speed will have, finally, a hard, +sharp horn growing on each elbow, and a pair of spurs growing out of +each ankle. These will enable him to climb over a crowd and get there +early. Constant exposure to these weapons on the part of the pedestrian +will harden the walls of the thorax and abdomen until the coming man +will be an impervious man. The citizen who avails himself of all modern +methods of conveyance will ride from his door on the horse car to the +elevated station, where an elevator will elevate him to the train and a +revolving platform will swing him on board, or possibly the street car +will be lifted from the surface track to the elevated track, and the +passenger will retain his seat all the time. Then a man will simply hang +out a red card, like an express card, at his door, and a combination car +will call for him, take him to the nearest elevated station, elevate +him, car and all, to the track, take him where he wants to go, and call +for him at any hour of the night to bring him home. He will do his +exercising at home, chiefly taking artificial sea baths, jerking a +rowing machine or playing on a health lift till his eyes hang out on his +cheeks, and he need not do any walking whatever. In that way the coming +man will be over-developed above the legs, and his lower limbs will look +like the desolate stems of a frozen geranium. Eccentricities of limb +will be handed over like baldness from father to son among the dwellers +in the cities, where every advantage in the way of rapid transit is to +be had, until a metropolitan will be instantly picked out by his able +digestion and rudimentary legs, just as we now detect the gentleman from +the interior by his wild endeavors to overtake an elevated train. + +In fact, Mr. Edison has now perfected, or announced that he is on the +road to the perfection of, a machine which I may be pardoned for calling +a storage think-tank. This will enable a brainy man to sit at home, and, +with an electric motor and a perfected phonograph, he can think into a +tin dipper or funnel, which will, by the aid of electricity and a new +style of foil, record and preserve his ideas on a sheet of soft metal, +so that when any one says to him, "A penny for your thoughts," he can go +to his valise and give him a piece of his mind. Thus the man who has +such wild and beautiful thoughts in the night and never can hold on to +them long enough to turn on the gas and get his writing materials, can +set this thing by the head of his bed, and, when the poetic thought +comes to him in the stilly night, he can think into a hopper, and the +genius of Franklin and Edison together will enable him to fire it back +at his friends in the morning while they eat their pancakes and glucose +syrup from Vermont, or he can mail the sheet of tinfoil to absent +friends, who may put it into their phonographs and utilize it. In this +way the world may harness the gray matter of its best men, and it will +be no uncommon thing to see a dozen brainy men tied up in a row in the +back office of an intellectual syndicate, dropping pregnant thoughts +into little electric coffee mills for a couple of hours a day, after +which they can put on their coats, draw their pay, and go home. + +All this will reduce the quantity of exercise, both mental and physical. +Two men with good brains could do the thinking for 60,000,000 of people +and feel perfectly fresh and rested the next day. Take four men, we will +say, two to do the day thinking and two more to go on deck at night, and +see how much time the rest of the world would have to go fishing. See +how politics would become simplified. Conventions, primaries, bargains +and sales, campaign bitterness and vituperation--all might be wiped out. +A pair of political thinkers could furnish 100,000,000 of people with +logical conclusions enough to last them through the campaign and put an +unbiased opinion into a man's house each day for less than he now pays +for gas. Just before election you could go into your private office, +throw in a large dose of campaign whisky, light a campaign cigar, +fasten your buttonhole to the wall by an elastic band, so that there +would be a gentle pull on it, and turn the electricity on your +mechanical thought supply. It would save time and money, and the result +would be the same as it is now. This would only be the beginning, of +course, and after a while every qualified voter who did not feel like +exerting himself so much, need only give his name and proxy to the +salaried thinker employed by the National Think Retort and Supply Works. +We talk a great deal about the union of church and state, but that is +not so dangerous, after all, as the mixture of politics and independent +thought. Will the coming voter be an automatic, legless, hairless +mollusk with an abnormal ear constantly glued to the tube of a big tank +full of symmetrical ideas furnished by a national bureau of brains in +the employ of the party in power? + + + + +UTAH + +BY EUGENE FIELD + + + Bowed was the old man's snow-white head, + A troubled look was on his face, + "Why come you, sir," I gently said, + "Unto this solemn burial place?" + + "I come to weep a while for one + Whom in her life I held most dear, + Alas, her sands were quickly run, + And now she lies a sleeping here." + + "Oh, tell me of your precious wife, + For she was very dear, I know, + It must have been a blissful life + You led with her you treasure so?" + + "My wife is mouldering in the ground, + In yonder house she's spinning now, + And lo! this moment may be found + A driving home the family cow; + + "And see, she's standing at the stile, + And leans from out the window wide, + And loiters on the sward a while, + Her forty babies by her side." + + "Old man, you must be mad!" I cried, + "Or else you do but jest with me; + How is it that your wife has died + And yet can here and living be? + + "How is it while she drives the cow + She's hanging out her window wide, + And loiters, as you said just now, + With forty babies by her side?" + + The old man raised his snowy head, + "I have a sainted wife in Heaven; + I am a Mormon, sir," he said, + "My sainted wife on earth are seven." + + + + +TALK + +BY JOHN PAUL + + + It seems to me that talk should be, + Like water, sprinkled sparingly; + Then ground that late lay dull and dried + Smiles up at you revivified, + And flowers--of speech--touched by the dew + Put forth fresh root and bud anew. + But I'm not sure that any flower + Would thrive beneath Niagara's shower! + So when a friend turns full on me + His verbal hose, may I not flee? + I know that I am arid ground, + But I'm not watered--Gad! I'm drowned! + + + + +A WINTER FANCY + +(_Little Tommy Loq_) + +BY R.K. MUNKITTRICK + + + My father piles the snow-drifts + Around his rosy face, + And covers all his whiskers-- + The grass that grows apace. + + And then he runs the snow-plough + Across his smiling lawn, + And all the snow-drifts vanish + And then the grass is gone. + + + + +JACK BALCOMB'S PLEASANT WAYS + +BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON + + +There comes a time in the life of young men when their college +fraternity pins lie forgotten in the collar-button box and the spiking +of freshmen ceases to be a burning issue. Tippecanoe was one of the few +freshwater colleges that barred women; but this was not its only +distinction, for its teaching was sound, its campus charming and the +town of which it was the chief ornament a quiet place noted from the +beginning of things for its cultivated people. + +It is no longer so very laudable for a young man to pay his way through +college; and Morris Leighton had done this easily and without caring to +be praised or martyrized for doing so. He had enjoyed his college days; +he had been popular with town and gown; and he had managed to get his +share of undergraduate fun while leading his classes. He had helped in +the college library; he had twisted the iron letter-press on the +president's correspondence late into the night; he had copied briefs for +a lawyer after hours; but he had pitched for the nine and hustled for +his "frat," and he had led class rushes with ardor and success. + +He had now been for several years in the offices of Knight, Kittredge +and Carr at Mariona, only an hour's ride from Tippecanoe; and he still +kept in touch with the college. Michael Carr fully appreciated a young +man who took the law seriously and who could sit down in a court room +on call mornings, when need be, and turn off a demurrer without +paraphrasing it from a text-book. + +Mrs. Carr, too, found Morris Leighton useful, and she liked him, because +he always responded unquestioningly to any summons to fill up a blank at +her table; and if Mr. Carr was reluctant at the last minute to attend a +lecture on "Egyptian Burial Customs," Mrs. Carr could usually summon +Morris Leighton by telephone in time to act as her escort. Young men +were at a premium in Mariona, as in most other places, and it was +something to have one of the species, of an accommodating turn, and very +presentable, within telephone range. Mrs. Carr was grateful, and so, it +must be said, was her husband, who did not care to spend his evenings +digging up Egyptians that had been a long time dead, or listening to +comic operas. It was through Mrs. Carr that Leighton came to be well +known in Mariona; she told her friends to ask him to call, and there +were now many homes besides hers that he visited. + +It sometimes occurred to Morris Leighton that he was not getting ahead +in the world very fast. He knew that his salary from Carr was more than +any other young lawyer of his years earned by independent practice; but +it seemed to him that he ought to be doing better. He had not drawn on +his mother's small resources since his first year at college; he had +made his own way--and a little more--but he experienced moments of +restlessness in which the difficulties of establishing himself in his +profession loomed large and formidable. + +An errand to a law firm in one of the fashionable new buildings that had +lately raised the Mariona sky-line led him one afternoon past the office +of his college classmate, Jack Balcomb. "J. Arthur Balcomb," was the +inscription on the door, "Suite B, Room 1." Leighton had seen little of +Balcomb for a year or more, and his friend's name on the ground-glass +door arrested his eye. + +Two girls were busily employed at typewriters in the anteroom, and one +of them extended a blank card to Morris and asked him for his name. The +girl disappeared into the inner room and came back instantly followed by +Balcomb, who seized Morris's hand, dragged him in and closed the door. + +"Well, old man!" Balcomb shouted. "I'm glad to see you. It's downright +pleasant to have a fellow come in occasionally and feel no temptation to +take his watch. Sink into yonder soft-yielding leather and allow me to +offer you one of these plutocratic perfectos. Only the elect get these, +I can tell you. In that drawer there I keep a brand made out of car +waste and hemp rope, that does very well for ordinary commercial +sociability. Got a match? All right; smoke up and tell me what you're +doing to make the world a better place to live in, as old Prexy used to +say at college." + +"I'm digging at the law, at the same old stand. I can't say that I'm +flourishing like Jonah's gourd, as you seem to be." + +Morris cast his eyes over the room, which was handsomely furnished. +There was a good rug on the floor and the desk and table were of heavy +oak; an engraving of Thomas Jefferson hung over Balcomb's desk, and on +the opposite side of the room was a table covered with financial +reference books. + +"Well, I tell you, old man," declared Balcomb, "you've got to fool all +the people all the time these days to make it go. Those venerable +whiskers around town whine about the good old times and how a young +man's got to go slow but sure. There's nothing in it; and they wouldn't +be in it either, if they had to start in again; no siree!" + +"What is your game just now, Jack, if it isn't impertinent? It's hard to +keep track of you. I remember very well that you started in to learn the +wholesale drug business." + +"Oh tush! don't refer to that, an thou lovest me! That is one of the +darkest pages of my life. Those people down there in South High Street +thought I was a jay, and they sent me out to help the shipping clerk. +Wouldn't that jar you! Overalls,--and a hand truck. Wow! I couldn't get +out of that fast enough. Then, you know, I went to Chicago and spent a +year in a broker's office, and I guess I learned a few up there. Oh, +rather! They sent me into the country to sell mining stock and I made a +record. They kept the printing presses going overtime to keep me +supplied. Say, they got afraid of me; I was too good!" + +He stroked his vandyke beard complacently, and flicked the ash from his +cigar. + +"What's your line now? Real estate, mortgages, lending money to the +poor? How do you classify yourself?" + +"You do me a cruel wrong, Morris, a cruel wrong. You read my sign on the +outer wall? Well, that's a bluff. There's nothing in real estate, _per +se_, as old Doc Bridges used to say at college. And the loan business +has all gone to the bad,--people are too rich; farmers are rolling in +real money and have it to lend. There was nothing for little Willie in +petty brokerages. I'm scheming--promoting--and I take my slice off of +everything that passes." + +"That certainly sounds well. You've learned fast. You had an ambition to +be a poet when you were in college. I think I still have a few pounds of +your verses in my traps somewhere." + +Balcomb threw up his head and laughed in self-pity. + +"I believe I _was_ bitten with the literary tarantula for a while, but +I've lived it down, I hope. Prexy used to predict a bright literary +future for me in those days. You remember, when I made Phi Beta Kappa, +how he took both my hands and wept over me. 'Balcomb,' he says, 'you're +an honor to the college.' I suppose he'd weep again, if he knew I'd only +forgotten about half the letters of the Greek alphabet,--left them, as +one might say, several thousand parasangs to the rear in my mad race for +daily sustenance. Well, I may not leave any vestiges on the sands of +time, but, please God, I shan't die hungry,--not if I keep my health. +Dear old Prexy! He was a nice old chump, though a trifle somnolent in +his chapel talks." + +"Well, we needn't pull the planks out of the bridge we've crossed on. I +got a lot out of college that I'm grateful for. They did their best for +us," said Morris. + +"Oh, yes; it was well enough, but if I had it to do over, Tippecanoe +wouldn't see me; not much! It isn't what you learn in college, it's the +friendships you make and all that sort of thing that counts. A western +man ought to go east to college and rub up against eastern fellows. The +atmosphere at the freshwater colleges is pretty jay. Fred Waters left +Tippecanoe and went to Yale and got in with a lot of influential fellows +down there,--chaps whose fathers are in big things in New York. Fred has +a fine position now, just through his college pull, and first thing you +know, he'll pick up an heiress and be fixed for life. Fred's a winner +all right." + +"He's also an ass," said Leighton. "I remember him of old." + +"An ass of the large gray and long-eared species,--I'll grant you that, +all right enough; but look here, old man, you've got to overlook the +fact that a fellow occasionally lifts his voice and brays. Man does not +live by the spirit alone; he needs bread, and bread's getting hard to +get." + +"I've noticed it," replied Leighton, who had covered all this ground +before in talks with Balcomb and did not care to go into it further. + +"And then, you remember," Balcomb went on, in enjoyment of his own +reminiscences, "I wooed the law for a while. But I guess what I learned +wouldn't have embarrassed Chancellor Kent. I really had a client once. I +didn't see a chance of getting one any other way, so I hired him. He was +a coon. I employed him for two dollars to go to the Grand Opera House +and buy a seat in the orchestra when Sir Henry Irving was giving _The +Merchant of Venice_. He went to sleep and snored and they threw him out +with rude, insolent, and angry hands after the second act; and I brought +suit against the management for damages, basing my claim on the idea +that they had spurned my dusky brother on account of his race, color and +previous condition of servitude. The last clause was a joke. He had +never done any work in his life, except for the state. He was a very +sightly coon, too, now that I recall him. The show was, as I said, _The +Merchant of Venice_, and I'll leave it to anybody if my client wasn't at +least as pleasing to the eye as Sir Henry in his Shylock togs. I suppose +if it had been _Othello_, race feeling would have run so high that Sir +Henry would hardly have escaped lynching. Well, to return. My client got +loaded on gin about the time the case came up on demurrer and gave the +snap away, and I dropped out of the practice to avoid being disbarred. +And it was just as well. My landlord had protested against my using the +office at night for poker purposes, so I passed up the law and sought +the asphodel fields of promotion. _Les affaires font l'homme_, as old +Professor Garneau used to say at college. So here I am; and I'm glad I +shook the law. I'd got tired of eating coffee and rolls at the Berlin +bakery three times a day. + +"Why, Morris, old man," he went on volubly, "there were days when the +loneliness in my office grew positively oppressive. You may remember +that room I had in the old Adams and Harper Block? It gave upon a +courtyard where the rats from a livery stable came to disport themselves +on rainy days. I grew to be a dead shot with the flobert rifle; but +lawsy, there's mighty little consideration for true merit in this world! +Just because I winged a couple of cheap hack horses one day, when my +nerves weren't steady, the livery people made me stop, and one of my +fellow tenants in the old rookery threatened to have me arrested for +conducting a shooting gallery without a license. He was a dentist, and +he said the snap of the rifle worried his victims." + +The two typewriting machines outside clicked steadily. Some one knocked +at the door. + +"Come in!" shouted Balcomb. + +One of the typewriter operators entered with a brisk air of business and +handed a telegram to Balcomb, who tore it open nonchalantly. As he read +it, he tossed the crumpled envelope over his shoulder in an +absent-minded way. + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed, slapping his leg as though the news were +important. Then, to the girl, who waited with note-book and pencil in +hand: "Never mind; don't wait. I'll dictate the answer later." + +"How did it work?" he asked, turning to Leighton, who had been looking +over the books on the table. + +"How did what work?" + +"The fake. It was a fake telegram. That girl's trained to bring in a +message every time I have a caller. If the caller stays thirty minutes, +it's two messages,--in other words I'm on a fifteen-minute schedule. I +tip a boy in the telegraph office to keep me supplied with blanks. It's +a great scheme. There's nothing like a telegram to create the +impression that your office is a seething caldron of business. Old Prexy +was in town the other day. I don't suppose he ever got a dose of +electricity in his life unless he had been sorely bereft of a member of +his family and was summoned to the funeral baked meats. Say, he must +have thought I had a private wire!" + +Leighton sat down and fanned himself with his hat. + +"You'll be my death yet. You have the cheek of a nice, fresh, new +baggage-check, Balcomb." + +"Your cigar isn't burning well, Morris. Won't you try another? No? I +like my guests to be comfortable." + +"I'm comfortable enough. I'm even entertained. Go ahead and let me see +the rest of the show." + +"Oh, we haven't exactly a course of stunts here. Those are nice girls +out there. I've broken them of the chewing-gum habit, and they can +answer anxious inquiries at the door now without danger of +strangulation." + +"They seem speedy on the machine. Your correspondence must be something +vast!" + +"Um, yes. It has to be. Every cheap skate of a real estate man keeps one +stenographer. My distinction is that I keep two. They're easy +advertising. Now that little one in the pink shirt-waist that brought in +the message from Mars a moment ago is a wonder of intelligence. Do you +know what she's doing now?" + +"Trying to break the machine I should guess, from the racket." + +"Bah! It's the Lord's Prayer." + +"You mean it's a sort of prayer machine." + +"Not on your life. Maude hasn't any real work to do just now and she's +running off the Lord's Prayer. I know by the way it clicks. When she +strikes 'our daily bread' the machine always gives a little gasp. See? +The rule of the office is that they must have some diddings doing all +the time. The big one with red hair is a perfect marvel at the +Declaration of Independence. She'll be through addressing circulars in a +little while and will run off into 'All men are created equal'--a +blooming lie, by the way--without losing a stroke." + +"You _have_ passed the poetry stage, beyond a doubt. But I should think +the strain of keeping all this going would be wearing on your sensitive +poetical nature. And it must cost something." + +"Oh, yes!" Balcomb pursed his lips and stroked his fine soft beard. "But +it's worth it. I'm not playing for small stakes. I'm looking for +Christmas trees. Now they've got their eyes on me. These old Elijahs +that have been the bone and sinew of the town for so long that they +think they own it, are about done for. You can't sit in a bank here any +more and look solemn and turn people down because your corn hurts or +because the chinch-bugs have got into the wheat in Dakota or the czar +has bought the heir apparent a new toy pistol. You've got to present a +smiling countenance to the world and give the glad hand to everybody +you're likely to need in your business. I jolly everybody!" + +"That comes easy for you; but I didn't know you could make an asset of +it." + +"It's part of my working capital. Now you'd better cut loose from old +man Carr and move up here and get a suite near me. I've got more than I +can do,--I'm always needing a lawyer,--organizing companies, legality of +bonds, and so on. Dignified work. Lots of out-of-town people come here +and I'll put you in touch with them. I threw a good thing to Van Cleve +only the other day. Bond foreclosure suit for some fellows in the East +that I sell stuff to. They wrote and asked me the name of a good man. I +thought of you--old college days and all that--but Van Cleve had just +done me a good turn and I had to let him have it. But you'd better come +over. You'll never know the world's in motion in that musty old hole of +Carr's. You get timid and afraid to go near the water by staying on +shore so long. But say, Morris, you seem to be getting along pretty well +in the social push. Your name looks well in the society column. How do +you work it, anyhow?" + +"Don't expect me to give the snap away. The secret's valuable. And I'm +not really inside; I am only peering through the pickets!" + +"Tush! Get thee hence! I saw you in a box at the theater the other +night,--evidently Mrs. Carr's party. There's nothing like mixing +business with pleasure. Ah me!" + +He yawned and stroked his beard and laughed, with a fine showing of +white teeth. + +"I don't see what's pricking you with small pins of envy. You were there +with about the gayest crowd I ever saw at a theater; and it looked like +your own party." + +"Don't say a word," implored Balcomb, putting out his hand. "Members of +the board of managers of the state penitentiary, their wives, their +cousins and their aunts. Say, weren't those beauteous whiskers! My eye! +Well, the evening netted me about five hundred plunks, and I got to see +the show and to eat a good supper in the bargain. Some reformers were to +appear before them that night officially, and my friends wanted to keep +them busy. I was called into the game to do something,--hence these +tears. Lawsy! I earned my money. Did you see those women?--about two +million per cent. pure jay!" + +"You ought to cut out that sort of thing; it isn't nice." + +"Oh, you needn't be so virtuous. Carr keeps a whole corps of rascals to +spread apple-butter on the legislature corn-bread." + +"You'd better speak to him about it. He'd probably tell Mrs. Carr to ask +you to dinner right away." + +"Oh, that will come in time. I don't expect to do everything at once. +You may see me up there some time; and when you do, don't shy off like a +colt at the choo-choos. By the way, I'd like to be one of the bright +particular stars of the Dramatic Club if you can fix it. You remember +that amateur theatricals are rather in my line." + +"I do. At college you were one of the most persistent Thespians we had, +and one of the worst. But let social matters go. You haven't told me how +to get rich quick yet. I haven't had the nerve to chuck the law as you +have." + +"Well," continued Balcomb, expansively, "a fellow has got to take what +he can when he can. One swallow doesn't make a summer; one sucker +doesn't make a spring; so we must catch the birdling _en route_ or _en +passant_, as our dear professor of modern languages used to try to get +us to remark. Say, between us old college friends, I cleared up a couple +of thousand last week just too easy for any use. You know Singerly, the +popular undertaker,--Egyptian secret of embalming, lady and gentleman +attendants, night and day,--always wears a spray of immortelles in his +lapel and a dash of tuberose essence on his handkerchief. Well, Singerly +and I operated together in the smoothest way you ever saw. Excuse me!" +He lay back and howled. "Well, there was an old house up here on High +Street just where it begins to get good; very exclusive--old families +and all that. It belonged to an estate, and I got an option on it just +for fun. I began taking Singerly up there to look at it. We'd measure +it, and step it off, and stop and palaver on the sidewalk. In a day or +two those people up there began to take notice and to do me the honor to +call on me. You see, my boy, an undertaking shop--even a fashionable +one--for a neighbor, isn't pleasant; it wouldn't add, as one might say, +to the _sauce piquante_ of life; and as a reminder of our mortality--a +trifle depressing, as you will admit." + +He took the cigar from his mouth and examined the burning end of it +thoughtfully. + +"I sold the option to one of Singerly's prospective neighbors for the +matter of eleven hundred. He's a retired wholesale grocer and didn't +need the money." + +"Seems to me you're cutting pretty near the dead-line, Jack. That's not +a pretty sort of hold-up. You might as well take a sandbag and lie in +wait by night." + +"Great rhubarb! You make me tired. I'm not robbing the widow and the +orphan, but a fat old Dutchman who doesn't ask anything of life but his +sauerkraut and beer." + +"And you do! You'd better give your ethical sense a good tonic before +you butt into the penal code." + +"Come off! I've got a better scheme even than the Singerly deal. The +school board's trying to locate a few schools in up-town districts. Very +undesirable neighbors. I rather think I can make a couple of turns +there. This is all strictly _inter nos_, as Professor Morton used to say +in giving me, as a special mark of esteem, a couple of hundred extra +lines of Virgil to keep me in o' nights." + +He looked at his watch and gave the stem-key a few turns before +returning it to his pocket. + +"You'll have to excuse me, old man. I've got a date with Adams, over at +the Central States Trust Company. He's a right decent chap when you know +how to handle him. I want to get them to finance a big apartment house +scheme. I've got an idea for a flat that will make the town sit up and +gasp." + +"Don't linger on my account, Jack. I only stopped in to see whether you +kept your good spirits. I feel as though I'd had a shower bath. Come +along." + +Several men were waiting to see Balcomb in the outer office and he shook +hands with all of them and begged them to come again, taking care to +mention that he had been called to the Central States Trust Company and +had to hurry away. + +He called peremptorily to the passing elevator-car to wait, and as he +and Leighton squeezed into it, he continued his half of an imaginary +conversation in a tone that was audible to every passenger. + +"I could have had those bonds, if I had wanted them; but I knew there +was a cloud on them--the county was already over its legal limit. I +guess those St. Louis fellows will be sorry they were so +enterprising--here we are!" + +And then in a lower tone to Leighton: "That was for old man Dameron's +benefit. Did you see him jammed back in the corner of the car? Queer old +party and as tight as a drum. When I can work off some assessable and +non-interest bearing bonds on him, it'll be easy to sell Uncle Sam's +Treasury a gold brick. They say the old man has a daughter who is finer +than gold; yea, than much fine gold. I'm going to look her up, if I ever +get time. You'd better come over soon and pick out an office. _Verbum +sat sapienti_, as our loving teacher used to say. So long!" + +Leighton walked back to his office in good humor and better contented +with his own lot. + + + + +THE WICKED ZEBRA[3] + +BY FRANK ROE BATCHELDER + + + The zebra always seems malicious,-- + He kicks and bites 'most all the time; + I fear that he's not only vicious, + But guilty of some dreadful crime. + + The mere suggestion makes me falter + In writing of this wicked brute; + Although he has escaped the halter, + He wears for life a convict's suit. + +[Footnote 3: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +THE BRAKEMAN AT CHURCH + +BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE + + +One bright winter morning, the twenty-ninth day of December, Anno Domini +1879, I was journeying from Lebanon, Indiana, where I had sojourned +Sunday, to Indianapolis. I did not see the famous cedars, and I supposed +they had been used up for lead-pencils, and moth-proof chests, and +relics, and souvenirs; for Lebanon is right in the heart of the holy +land. That part of Indiana was settled by Second Adventists, and they +have sprinkled goodly names all over their heritage. As the train +clattered along, stopping at every station to trade off some people who +were tired of traveling for some other people who were tired of staying +at home, I got out my writing-pad, pointed a pencil, and wondered what +manner of breakfast I would be able to serve for the ever hungry +"Hawkeye" next morning. + +I was beginning to think I would have to disguise some "left-overs" +under a new name, as the thrifty housekeeper knows how to do, when my +colleague, my faithful yoke-fellow, who has many a time found for me a +spring of water in the desert place--the Brakeman, came down the aisle +of the car. He glanced at the tablet and pencil as I would look at his +lantern, put my right hand into a cordial compress that abode with my +fingers for ten minutes after he went away, and seating himself easily +on the arm of the seat, put the semaphore all right for me by saying: + +"Say, I went to church yesterday." + +"Good boy," I said, "and what church did you attend?" + +"Guess," was his reply. + +"Some Union Mission chapel?" I ventured. + +"N-no," he said, "I don't care to run on these branch roads very much. I +don't get a chance to go to church every Sunday, and when I can go, I +like to run on the main line, where your trip is regular, and you make +schedule time, and don't have to wait on connections. I don't care to +run on a branch. Good enough, I reckon, but I don't like it." + +"Episcopal?" I guessed. + +"Limited express!" he said, "all parlor cars, vestibuled, and two +dollars extra for a seat; fast time, and only stop at the big stations. +Elegant line, but too rich for a brakeman. All the trainmen in uniform; +conductor's punch and lanterns silver-plated; train-boys fenced up by +themselves and not allowed to offer anything but music. Passengers talk +back at the conductor. Trips scheduled through the whole year, so when +you get aboard you know just where you're going and how long it will +take you. Most systematic road in the country and has a mighty nice +class of travel. Never hear of a receiver appointed on that line. But I +didn't ride in the parlor car yesterday." + +"Universalist?" I suggested. + +"Broad gauge," the Brakeman chuckled; "does too much complimentary +business to be prosperous. Everybody travels on a pass. Conductor +doesn't get a cash fare once in fifty miles. Stops at all way-stations +and won't run into anything but a union depot. No smoking-car allowed on +the train because the company doesn't own enough brimstone to head a +match. Train orders are rather vague, though; and I've noticed the +trainmen don't get along very well with the passengers. No, I didn't go +on the broad gauge, though I have some good friends on that road who are +the best people in the world. Been running on it all their lives." + +"Presbyterian?" I hinted. + +"Narrow gauge, eh?" said the Brakeman; "pretty track; straight as a +rule; tunnel right through the heart of a mountain rather than go around +it; spirit level grade; strict rules, too; passengers have to show their +tickets before they get on the train; cars a little bit narrow for +sleepers; have to sit one in a seat and no room in the aisle to dance. +No stop-over tickets allowed; passenger must go straight through to the +station he's ticketed for, or stay off the car. When the car's full, +gates are shut; cars built at the shops to hold just so many, and no +more allowed on. That road is run right up to the rules and you don't +often hear of an accident on it. Had a head-on collision at Schenectady +union station and run over a weak bridge at Cincinnati, not many years +ago, but nobody hurt, and no passengers lost. Great road." + +"May be you rode with the Agnostics?" I tried. + +The Brakeman shook his head emphatically. + +"Scrub road," he said, "dirt road-bed and no ballast; no time-card, and +no train dispatcher. All trains run wild and every engineer makes his +own time, just as he pleases. A sort of 'smoke-if-you-want-to' road. Too +many side tracks; every switch wide open all the time, switchman sound +asleep and the target-lamp dead out. Get on where you please and get off +when you want. Don't have to show your tickets, and the conductor has no +authority to collect fare. No, sir; I was offered a pass, but I don't +like the line. I don't care to travel over a road that has no terminus. + +"Do you know, I asked a division superintendent where his road run to, +and he said he hoped to die if he knew. I asked him if the general +superintendent could tell me, and he said he didn't believe they had a +general superintendent, and if they had, he didn't know any more about +the road than the passengers did. I asked him who he reported to, and he +said, 'Nobody.' I asked a conductor who he got his orders from, and he +said he didn't take no orders from any living man or dead ghost. And +when I asked the engineer who gave him orders, he said he'd just like to +see any man on this planet try to give him orders, black-and-white or +verbal; he said he'd run that train to suit himself or he'd run it into +the ditch. Now, you see, I'm not much of a theologian, but I'm a good +deal of a railroad man, and I don't want to run on a road that has no +schedule, makes no time, has no connections, starts anywhere and runs +nowhere, and has neither signal man, train dispatcher or superintendent. +Might be all right, but I've railroaded too long to understand it." + +"Did you try the Methodist?" + +"Now you're shoutin'!" he cried with enthusiasm; "that's the hummer! +Fast time and crowds of passengers! Engines carry a power of steam, and +don't you forget it. Steam-gauge shows a hundred and enough all the +time. Lively train crews, too. When the conductor shouts 'All +a-b-o-a-r-d!' you can hear him to the next hallelujah station. Every +train lamp shines like a head-light. Stop-over privileges on all +tickets; passenger can drop off the train any time he pleases, do the +station a couple of days and hop on to the next revival train that comes +thundering along with an evangelist at the throttle. Good, whole-souled, +companionable conductors; ain't a road on earth that makes the +passengers feel more at home. No passes issued on any account; +everybody pays full traffic rate for his own ticket. Safe road, too; +well equipped; Wesleyanhouse air brakes on every train. It's a road I'm +fond of, but I didn't begin this week's run with it." + +I began to feel that I was running ashore; I tried one more lead: + +"May be you went with the Baptists?" + +"Ah, ha!" he shouted, "now you're on the Shore line! River Road, eh? +Beautiful curves, lines of grace at every bend and sweep of the river; +all steel rail and rock ballast; single track, and not a siding from the +round-house to the terminus. Takes a heap of water to run it, though; +double tanks at every station, and there isn't an engine in the shops +that can run a mile or pull a pound with less than two gauges. Runs +through a lovely country--river on one side and the hills on the other; +and it's a steady climb, up grade all the way until the run ends where +the river begins, at the fountain head. Yes, sir, I'll take the River +Road every time for a safe trip, sure connections, good time, and no +dust blowing in when you open a window. And yesterday morning, when the +conductor came around taking up fares with a little basket punch, I +didn't ask him to pass me; I paid my fare like a little +Jonah--twenty-five cents for a ninety-minute run, with a concert by the +passengers thrown in. I tell you what it is, Pilgrim, never mind your +baggage, you just secure your passage on the River Road if you want to +go to--" + +But just here the long whistle announced a station, and the Brakeman +hurried to the door, shouting-- + +"Zions-VILLE! ZIONS-ville! All out for Zionsville! This train makes no +stops between here and Indianapolis!" + + + + +HOW MR. TERRAPIN LOST HIS BEARD + +BY ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON + + +The "cook-house" stood at some little distance from the "big house," and +every evening after supper it was full of light and noise and laughter. +The light came from the fire on the huge hearth, above which hung the +crane and the great iron pots which Eliza, the cook, declared were +indispensable in the practice of her art. To be sure, there was a +cook-stove, but 'Liza was wedded to old ways and maintained there was +nothing "stove cooked" that could hope to rival the rich and nutty +flavor of ash cake, or greens "b'iled slow an' long over de ha'th, wid a +piece er bacon in de pot." + +The noise and laughter came from a circle of dusky and admiring friends, +for Aunt 'Liza was a great favorite with everybody on the plantation, +and though hunchbacked and homely, had, nevertheless, had her pick, as +she was fond of boasting, of the likeliest looking men on the place; and +though she had been twice wedded and twice widowed, aspirants were not +wanting for the position now vacant for a third time. Indeed, not long +before, a member of the family, on going to the cook-house to see why +dinner was so late, had discovered one Sam, the burly young ox-cart +driver, on his knees, pleading very earnestly with the elderly and +humpbacked little cook, while dinner simmered on and on, unnoticed and +forgotten. When remonstrated with she said that she was "'bleeged ter +have co'tin' times ez well ez de res' er folks," and intimated that in +affairs of the heart these things were apt to happen at any time or +place, and that if a gentleman chose an inopportune moment "'twan't her +fault," and no one could, with any show of reason, expect her not to pay +attention to him. She ruled everybody, her white folks included, though +just how she did it no one could say, unless she was one of those +commanding spirits and born leaders who sometimes appear even in the +humblest walks of life. It is possible that her uncommonly strong will +compelled the affections of her male admirers, but it is also possible +that she condescended to flatter, and it is certain that she fed them +well. + +One night, between supper and bedtime, the children heard the sound of a +banjo proceeding from the cook-house. They had never ventured into Aunt +'Liza's domain before, but the plinketty-plunk of the banjo, the sound +of patting and the thud of feet keeping time to the music drew them +irresistibly. Aunt Nancy was there, in the circle about the embers, as +was also her old-time foe, Aunt 'Phrony, and the banjo was in the hands +of Tim, a plow-boy, celebrated as being the best picker for miles +around. Lastly, there were Aunt 'Liza and her latest conquest, Sam, +whose hopes she could not have entirely quenched or he would not have +beamed so complacently on the assembled company. + +There was a hush as the three little heads appeared in the doorway, but +the children begged them to go on, and so Tim picked away for dear life +and Sam did a wonderful double-shuffle with the pigeon-wing thrown in. +Then Tim sang a plantation song about "Cindy Ann" that ran something +like this: + + _I'se gwine down ter Richmond, + I'll tell you w'at hit's for: + I'se gwine down ter Richmond, + Fer ter try an' end dis war._ + + _Refrain: An'-a you good-by, Cindy, Cindy, + Good-by, Cindy Ann; + An'-a you good-by, Cindy, Cindy, + I'se gwine ter Rappahan._ + + _I oon ma'y a po' gal, + I'll tell de reason w'y: + Her neck so long an' skinny + I'se 'feared she nuver die._ + + _Refrain._ + + _I oon ma'y a rich gal, + I'll tell de reason w'y: + Bekase she dip so much snuff + Her mouf is nuver dry._ + + _Refrain._ + + _I ru'rr ma'y a young gal, + A apple in her han', + Dan ter ma'y a widdy + Wid a house an' a lot er lan'._ + + _Refrain._ + +At the reference to a "widdy" he winked at the others and looked +significantly at Sam and Aunt 'Liza. Then he declared it was the turn of +the ladies to amuse the gentlemen. Aunt Nancy and Aunt 'Phrony cried, +"Hysh! Go 'way, man! W'at ken we-all do? Done too ol' fer foolishness; +leave dat ter de gals!" But 'Liza was not inclined to leave the +entertainment of gentlemen to "gals," whom she declared to be, for the +most part, "wu'fless trunnel-baid trash." + +"Come, come, Sis' 'Phrony, an' you, too, Sis' Nancy," said she, "you +knows dar ain' nu'rr pusson on de place kin beat you bofe in der marter +uv tellin' tales. I ain' nuver have de knack myse'f, but I knows a good +tale w'en I years hit, an' I bin gittin' myse'f fixed fer one uver sence +you comed in." + +The children added their petitions, seconded by Tim and Sam. Aunt Nancy +looked as if she were feeling around in the dusk of half-forgotten +things for a dimly remembered story, perceiving which the nimbler-witted +Aunt 'Phrony made haste to say that she believed she knew a story which +might please the company if they were not too hard to suit. They +politely protested that such was far from being the case, whereupon she +began the story of how the Terrapin lost his beard. + +"Um-umph!" snorted Aunt Nancy, "who uver year tell uv a tarr'pin wid a +by'ud!" + +"Look-a-yer, ooman," said 'Phrony, "who tellin' dis, me er you? You +s'pose I'se talkin' 'bout de li'l ol' no-kyount tarr'pins dey has dese +days? Naw, suh! I'se tellin' 'bout de ol' time Tarr'pin whar wuz a gre't +chieft an' a big fighter, an' w'ensomuver tu'rr creeturs come roun' an' +try ter pay him back, he jes' drord his haid in his shell an' dar he +wuz. Dish yer ain' no ol' nigger tale, neener, dish yer a Injun tale +whar my daddy done tol' me w'en I wan't no bigger'n Miss Janey. He say +dat sidesen de by'ud, Tarr'pin had big wattles hangin' down beneaf his +chin, jes' lak de tukkey-gobblers has dese days. Him an' Mistah Wi'yum +Wil'-tukkey wuz mighty good fren's dem times, an' Tukkey he thought +Tarr'pin wuz a monst'ous good-lookin' man. He useter mek gre't 'miration +an' say, 'Mistah Tarry-long Tarr'pin, you sut'n'y is a harnsum man. Dar +ain' nu'rr creetur in dese parts got such a by'ud an' wattles ez w'at +you is.' + +"Den Tarr'pin he'd stroke down de by'ud an' swell out de wattles an' +say, 'Sho! sho! Mistah Tukkey, you done praise dese yer heap mo'n w'at +dey is wuf,' but all de same he wuz might'ly please', fer dar's nuttin' +lak a li'l bit er flatt'ry fer ilin' up de j'ints an' mekin' folks +limbersome in der feelin's. + +"Tukkey git ter thinkin' so much 'bout de by'ud an' de wattles dat seem +ter him ez ef he kain't git long no-hows lessen he have some fer +hisse'f, 'kase in dem days de gobblers ain' have none. He study an' he +study, but he kain't see whar he kin git 'em, an' de mo' he study de mo' +he hone atter 'em. Las' he git so sharp set atter 'em dat he ain' kyare +how he git 'em, jes' so he git 'em, an' den he mek up his min' he gwine +tek 'em 'way f'um Tarr'pin. So one day w'en he met up wid him in de road +he stop him an' bob his haid an' mek his manners mighty p'litely, an' he +say, sezee, 'Mawnin', Mistah Tarry-long, mawnin'. How you come on dis +day? I ain' hatter ax you, dough, 'kase you done look so sprucy wid yo' +by'ud all comb' out an' yo' wattles puff' up. I wish, suh, you lemme +putt 'em on fer a minnit, so's't I kin see ef I becomes 'em ez good ez +w'at you does.' + +"Ol' man Tarr'pin mighty easy-goin' an' commodatin', so he say, 'W'y, +sut'n'y, Mistah Tukkey, you kin tek 'em an' welcome fer a w'iles.' So +Tukkey he putts 'em on an' moseys down ter de branch ter look at hisse'f +in de water. 'Whoo-ee!' sezee ter hisse'f, 'ain' I de caution in dese +yer fixin's! I'se saw'y fer de gals now, I sut'n'y is, 'kase w'at wid my +shape an' dish yer by'ud an' wattles, dar gwine be some sho'-'nuff +heart-smashin' roun' dese diggin's, you year me sesso!' + +"Den he go struttin' back, shakin' de by'ud an' swellin' put de wattles +an' jes' mo'n steppin' high an' prancin' w'ile he sing: + + _'Cle'r outen de way fer ol' Dan Tucker, + You'se too late ter git yo' supper.'_ + +"Den he say, sezee, 'Mistah Tarr'pin, please, suh, ter lemme keep dese +yer? I b'lieve I becomes 'em mo'n w'at you does, 'kase my neck so long +an' thin seem lak I needs 'em ter set hit off mo'n w'at you does wid dat +shawt li'l neck er yo'n whar you keeps tuck 'way in yo' shell half de +time, anyways. Sidesen dat, you is sech a runt dat you g'long draggin' +de by'ud on de groun', an' fus' news you know hits 'bleeged ter be wo' +out. You bes' lemme have hit, 'kase I kin tek good kyare uv hit.' + +"Den Tarr'pin say, sezee, 'I lak ter 'commodate you, Mistah Tukkey, but +I ain' see how I kin. I done got so use ter runnin' my fingers thu de +by'ud an' spittin' over hit w'en I'se settin' roun' thinkin' er talkin' +dat I dunno how I kin do widout hit, an' I kain't git long, no-how, +widout swellin' up de wattles w'en I git tetched in my feelin's. Sidesen +dat, I kin tek kyare er de by'ud, ef I _is_ a runt; I bin doin' it a +good w'ile, an' she ain' wo' out yit. So please, suh, ter han' me over +my fixin's.' + +"'Not w'iles I got any wind lef' in me fer runnin',' sez de Tukkey, +sezee, an' wid dat he went a-scootin', ol' man Tarr'pin atter him, +hot-foot. Dey went scrabblin' up de mountains an' down de mountains, an' +'twuz pull Dick, pull devil, fer a w'ile. Dey kain't neener one uv 'em +climb up ve'y fas', but w'en dey git ter de top, Tukkey he fly down an' +Tarr'pin he jes' natchully turn over an' roll down. But Tukkey git de +start an' keep hit. W'en Tarr'pin roll to de bottom uv a mountain den +he'd see Tukkey at de top er de nex' one. Dey kep' hit up dis-a-way +'cross fo' ridges, an' las' Tarr'pin he plumb wo' out an' he see he +wan't gwine ketch up at dat rate, so he gin up fer dat day. Den he go +an' hunt up de cunjerers an' ax 'em fer ter he'p him. He say, 'Y'all +know dat by'ud an' wattles er mine? Well, I done loan 'em to Mistah +Wi'yum Wil'-tukkey, 'kase he wuz my fren' an' he done ax me to. An' now +he turn out ter be no-kyount trash, an' w'at I gwine do? You bin knowin' +I is a slow man, an' if I kain't git some he'p, I hatter say good-by +by'ud an' wattles.'" + +"What are 'cunjerers,' Aunt 'Phrony?" said Ned. + +"Well now, honey," said she, "I dunno ez I kin jes' rightly tell you, +but deys w'at de Injuns calls 'medincin'-men,' an' dey doctors de sick +folks an' he'ps de hunters ter git game an' de gals ter git beaux, an' +putts spells on folks an' mek 'em do jes' 'bout w'at dey want 'em to. +An' so dese yer cunjerers dey goes off by derse'fs an' has a confab an' +den dey come back an' tell Mistah Tarr'pin dat dey reckon dey done fix +Mistah Tukkey dis time. + +"'W'at you done wid him?' sezee. + +"'We ain' ketch 'im,' dey ses, 'we lef' dat fer you, dat ain' ow' +bizness, but we done fix him up so't you kin do de ketchin' yo'se'f.' + +"'W'at has you done to him, den?' sezee. + +"'Son', dey ses, 'we done putt a lot er li'l bones in his laigs, an' dat +gwine slow him up might'ly, an' we 'pends on you ter do de res', 'kase +we knows dat you is a gre't chieft.' + +"Den Tarr'pin amble long 'bout his bizness an' neener stop ner res' +ontwel he met up wid Tukkey onct mo'. He ax fer his by'ud an' wattles +ag'in, but Tukkey jes' turnt an' stept out f'um dat, Tarr'pin atter him. +But seem lak de cunjerers thought Mistah Tarr'pin wuz faster'n w'at he +wuz, er dat Mistah Tukkey 'z slower'n w'at _he_ wuz, 'kase Tarr'pin ain' +nuver ketch up wid him yit, an' w'ats mo', de tarr'pins is still doin' +widout by'uds an' wattles an' de gobblers is still wearin' 'em an' +swellin' roun' showin' off ter de gals, steppin' ez high ez ef dem li'l +bones w'at de cunjerers putt dar wan't still in der laigs, an' struttin' +lak dey wuz sayin' ter ev'y pusson dey meets: + + _'Cle'r outen de way fer ol' Dan Tucker, + You'se too late ter git yo' supper.'"_ + + + + +THE CRITIC + +BY WILLIAM J. LAMPTON + + + Behold + The Critic, bold and cold, + Who sits in judgment on + The twilight and the dawn + Of literature, + And, eminently sure, + Informs his age + What printed page + Is destined to be great. + His word is Fate, + And what he writes + Is greater far + Than all the books + He writes of are. + His pen + Is dipped in boom + Or doom; + And when + He says one book is rot, + And that another's not, + That ends it. He + Is pure infallibility, + And any book he judges must + Be blessed or cussed + By all mankind, + Except the blind + Who will not see + The master's modest mastery. + His fiat stands + Against the uplifted hands + Of thousands who protest + And buy the books + That they like best; + But what of that? + He knows where he is at, + And they don't. And why + Shouldn't he be high + Above them as the clouds + Are high above the brooks, + For God, He made the Critic, + And man, he makes the books. + See? + Gee whiz, + What a puissant potentate the Critic is. + + + + +THE ASSOCIATED WIDOWS + +BY KATHARINE M. ROOF + + +The confirmed bachelor sat apart, fairly submerged by a sea of Sunday +papers; yet a peripheral consciousness of the ladies' presence was +revealed in his embryonic smile. + +He folded over a voluminous sheet containing an account of the latest +murder, and glanced at a half-page picture, labeled, "The Scene of the +Crime." + +"Was there ever yet a woman that could keep a secret," he demanded, +apparently of the newspaper. "Now, if this poor fellow had only kept his +little plans to himself--but, of course, he had to go and tell some +woman." + +"Looks like the man didn't know how to keep his secret that time," +returned Mrs. Pendleton with a smile calculated to soften harsh +judgments against her sex. + +"There are some secrets woman can keep," observed Elsie Howard. Her gaze +happened to rest upon Mrs. Pendleton's golden hair. + +"For instance," demanded the confirmed bachelor. (His name was Barlow.) + +"Oh--her age for one thing." Elsie withdrew her observant short-sighted +eyes from Mrs. Pendleton's crowning glory, and a smile barely touched +the corners of her expressively inexpressive mouth. Mrs. Pendleton +glanced up, faintly suspicious of that last remark. + +Mr. Barlow laughed uproariously. In the two years that he had been a +"guest" in Mrs. Howard's boarding-house he had come to regard Miss Elsie +as a wit, and it was his habit--like the Italians at the opera--to give +his applause before the closing phrases were delivered. + +"I guess that's right. You hit it that time. That's one secret a woman +can keep." He chuckled appreciatively. + +Mrs. Pendleton laughed less spontaneously than usual and said, "It +certainly was a dangerous subject," that "she had been looking for +silver hairs amongst the gold herself lately." And again Elsie's eyes +were attracted to the hairs under discussion. For three months now she +had questioned that hair. At night it seemed above reproach in its +infantile fairness, but in the crude unkind daylight there was a garish +insistence about it that troubled the eye. + +At that moment the door opened and Mrs. Hilary came in with her bonnet +on. She glanced around with frigid greeting. + +"So I'm not late to dinner after all. I had thought you would be at +table. The tram was so slow I was sorry I had not walked and saved the +fare." She spoke with an irrational rising and falling of syllables that +at once proclaimed her nationality. She was a short, compact little +woman with rosy cheeks, abundant hair and a small tight mouth. Mrs. +Hilary was a miniature painter by choice and a wife and mother by +accident. She was subject to lapses in which she unquestionably forgot +the twins' existence. She recalled them suddenly now. + +"Has any one seen Gladys and Gwendolen? Dear, dear, I wonder where they +are. They wouldn't go to church with me. Those children are such a +responsibility." + +"But they are such happy children," said gentle little Mrs. Howard, who +had come in at the beginning of this speech. In her heart Mrs. Howard +dreaded the long-legged, all-pervasive twins, but she pitied the +widowed and impoverished little artist. "So sad," she was wont to say +to her intimates in describing her lodger, "a young widow left all alone +in a foreign country." + +"But one would hardly call America a foreign country to an +Englishwoman," one friend had interpolated at this point. + +"Yes, I know," Mrs. Howard had acknowledged, "but she _seems_ foreign. +Her husband was an American, I believe, and he evidently left her with +almost nothing. He must have been very unkind to her, she has such a +dislike of Americans. She wasn't able to give the regular price for the +rooms, but I couldn't refuse her--I felt so sorry for her." + +Mrs. Howard liked to "feel sorry for" people. Yet she was apt to find +herself at sea in attempting to sympathize with Mrs. Hilary. She was a +sweet-faced, tired-looking little woman with a vague smile and dreamy +eyes. About five years ago Mrs. Howard had had "reverses" and had been +forced by necessity to live to violate the sanctity of her hearth and +home; grossly speaking, she had been obliged to take boarders, no +feasible alternative seeming to suggest itself. The old house in +Eleventh Street, in which she had embarked upon this cheerless career, +had never been a home for her or her daughter. Yet an irrepressible +sociability of nature enabled her to find a certain pleasure in the life +impossible to her more reserved daughter. + +As they all sat around now in the parlor, into which the smell of the +Sunday turkey had somehow penetrated, a few more guests wandered in and +sat about provisionally on the impracticable parlor furniture, waiting +for the dinner signal. Mrs. Howard bravely tried to keep up the +simulation of social interchange with which she ever pathetically +strove to elevate the boarding-house intercourse into the decency of a +chosen association. + +Suddenly there came a thump and a crash against the door and the twins +burst in, their jackets unbuttoned, their dusty picture hats awry. + +"Oh! mater, mater!" they cried tumultuously, dancing about her. + +"Such sport, mater. We fed the elephant." + +"And the rabbits--" + +"And a monkey carried off Gwendolen's gloves--" + +"Children," exclaimed Mrs. Hilary impotently, looking from one to the +other, "where _have_ you been?" (She pronounced it bean.) + +"To the park, mater--" + +"To see the animals--" + +"Oh, mater, you should see the ducky little baby lion!" + +"What is it that they call you?" inquired a perpetually smiling young +kindergartner who had just taken possession of a top-floor hall-room. + +Mrs. Hilary glanced at her slightingly. + +"What is it that they _call_ me? Why, mater, of course." + +"Ah, yes," the girl acquiesced pleasantly. "I remember now; it's +English, of course." + +"Oh, no," returned Mrs. Hilary instructively, "it's not English; it's +Latin." + +The kindergartner was silent. Mrs. Pendleton suppressed a chuckle that +strongly suggested her "mammy." Mr. Barlow grinned and Elsie Howard's +mouth twitched. + +"They are such picturesque children," Mrs. Howard put in hastily. "I +wonder you don't paint them oftener." + +"I declare I just wish I could paint," Mrs. Pendleton contributed +sweetly, "I think it's such pretty work." + +Mrs. Hilary was engrossed in the task of putting the twins to rights. + +"I don't know what to do with them, they are quite unmanageable," she +sighed. "It's so bad for them--bringing them up in a lodging-house." + +Mrs. Howard flushed and Mrs. Pendleton's eyes flashed. The dinner bell +rang and Elsie Howard rose with a little laugh. + +"An English mother with American children! What do you expect, Mrs. +Hilary?" + +Mrs. Hilary was busy retying a withered blue ribbon upon the left side +of Gladys' brow. She looked up to explain: + +"They are only half-American, you know. But their manners are getting +quite ruined with these terrible American children." + +Then they filed down into the basement dining-room for the noon dinner. + +"Horrid, rude little Cockney," Mrs. Pendleton whispered in Elsie +Howard's ear. + +The girl smiled faintly. "Oh, she doesn't know she is rude. She is +just--English." + +Mrs. Howard, over the characterless soup, wondered what it was about the +little English artist that seemed so "different." Conversation with Mrs. +Hilary developed such curious and unexpected difficulties. Mrs. Howard +looked compassionately over at the kindergartner who, with the +hopefulness of inexperience, started one subject after another with her +unresponsive neighbor. What quality was it in Mrs. Hilary that +invariably brought both discussion and pleasantry to a standstill? +Elsie, upon whom Mrs. Howard depended for clarification of her thought, +would only describe it as "English." In her attempts to account for this +alien presence in her household, Mrs. Howard inevitably took refuge in +the recollection of Mrs. Hilary's widowhood. This moving thought +occurring to her now caused her to glance in the direction of Mrs. +Pendleton's black dress and her face lightened. Mrs. Pendleton was of +another sort. Mrs. Pendleton had proved, as Mrs. Howard always expressed +it, "quite an acquisition to our circle." She felt almost an affection +for the merry, sociable talkative Southern woman, with her invariable +good spirits, her endless fund of appropriate platitude and her ready, +superficial sympathy. Mrs. Pendleton had "come" through a cousin of a +friend of a friend of Mrs. Howard's, and these vague links furnished +unlimited material for conversation between the two women. Mrs. +Pendleton was originally from Savannah, and the names which flowed in +profusion from her lips were of unimpeachable aristocracy. Pendleton was +a very "good name" in the South, Mrs. Howard had remarked to Elsie, and +went on to cite instances and associations. + +Besides those already mentioned, the household consisted of three old +maids, who had been with Mrs. Howard from her first year; a pensive art +student with "paintable" hair; a deaf old gentleman whose place at table +was marked by a bottle of lithia tablets; a chinless bank clerk, who had +jokes with the waitress, and a silent man who spoke only to request +food. + +Mr. Barlow occupied, and frankly enjoyed the place between Miss Elsie +and Mrs. Pendleton. He found the widow's easy witticisms, stock +anecdotes and hackneyed quotations of unfailing interest and her obvious +coquetry irresistible. Mr. Barlow took life and business in a most +un-American spirit of leisure. He never found fault with the food or the +heating arrangements, and never precipitated disagreeable arguments at +table. All things considered, he was probably the most contented spirit +in the house. + +The talk at table revolved upon newspaper topics, the weather, the +health of the household, and a comparison of opinions about plays and +actresses. At election times it was strongly tinged with politics, and +on Sundays, popular preachers were introduced, with some expression as +to what was and was not good taste in the pulpit. Among the feminine +portion a fair amount of time was devoted to a review of the comparative +merits of shops. + +Mrs. Pendleton's conversation, however, had a somewhat wider range, for +she had traveled. Just what topics were favored in those long undertone +conversations with Mr. Barlow only Elsie Howard could have told, as the +seat on the other side of the pair was occupied by the deaf old +gentleman. There were many covert glances and much suppressed laughter, +but neither of the two old maids opposite were able to catch the drift +of the low-voiced dialogue, so it remained a tantalizing mystery. Mrs. +Pendleton, when pleased to be general in her attentions, proved to be, +as Mrs. Howard had said, "an acquisition." She spoke most entertainingly +of Egypt, of Japan and Hawaii. Yet all these experiences seemed tinged +with a certain sadness, as they had evidently been associated with the +last days of the late Mr. Pendleton. They had crossed the Pyrenees when +"poor Mr. Pendleton was so ill he had to be carried every inch of the +way." In Egypt, "sometimes it seemed like he couldn't last another day. +But I always did say 'while there is life there is hope,'" she would +recall pensively, "and the doctors all said the only hope _for_ his life +was in constant travel, and so we were always, as you might say, seeking +'fresh fields and pastures new.'" + +Then Mrs. Howard's gentle eyes would fill with sympathy. "Poor Mrs. +Pendleton," she would often say to Elsie after one of these distressing +allusions. "How terrible it must have been. Think of seeing some one +you love dying that way, by inches before your eyes. She must have been +very fond of him, too. She always speaks of him with so much feeling." + +"Yes," said Elsie with untranslatable intonation. "I wonder what he died +of." + +"I don't know," returned her mother regretfully. She had no curiosity, +but she had a refined and well-bred interest in diseases. "I never heard +her mention it and I didn't like to ask." + +"Poor Mrs. Howard," Mrs. Pendleton was wont to say with her facile +sympathy. "_So_ hard for her to have to take strangers into her home. I +believe she was left without anything at her husband's death; mighty +hard for a woman at her age." + +"How long has her husband been dead?" the other boarder to whom she +spoke would sometimes inquire. + +Mrs. Pendleton thought he must have been dead some time, although she +had never heard them say, exactly. "You never hear Elsie speak of him," +she added, "so I reckon she doesn't remember him right well." + +As the winter wore on the tendency to tete-a-tete between Mrs. Pendleton +and Mr. Barlow became more marked. They lingered nightly in the chilly +parlor in the glamour of the red lamp after the other guests had left. +It was discovered that they had twice gone to the theater together. The +art student had met them coming in late. As a topic of conversation +among the boarders the affair was more popular than food complaints. A +subtile atmosphere of understanding enveloped the two. It became so +marked at last that even Mrs. Hilary perceived it--although Elsie always +insisted that Gladys had told her. + +One afternoon in the spring, as Mrs. Pendleton was standing on the +door-step preparing to fit the latch-key into the lock, the door opened +and a man came out uproariously, followed by Gladys and Gwendolen, who, +in some inexplicable way, always had the effect of a crowd of children. +The man was tall and not ill-looking. Mrs. Pendleton was attired in +trailing black velveteen, a white feather boa, and a hat covered with +tossing plumes, and the hair underneath was aggressively golden. A +potential smile hovered about her lips and her glance lingered in +passing. Inside the house she bent a winning smile upon Gwendolen, who +was the less sophisticated of the two children. + +"Who's your caller, honey?" + +"That's the pater," replied Gwendolen with her mouth full of candy. "He +brought us some sweets. You may have one if you wish." + +"Your--your father," translated Mrs. Pendleton with a gasp. She was +obliged to lean against the wall for support. + +The twins nodded, their jaws locked with caramel. + +"He doesn't come very often," Gladys managed to get out indistinctly. "I +wish he would." + +"I suppose his business keeps him away," suggested Mrs. Pendleton. + +Gladys glanced up from a consideration of the respective attractions of +a chocolate cream and caramel. + +"He says it is incompatibility of humor," she repeated glibly. Gladys +was more than half American. + +"Of _humor_!" Mrs. Pendleton's face broke up into ripples of delight. +She flew at once to Mrs. Howard's private sitting room, arriving all out +of breath and exploded her bomb immediately. + +"My dear, did you know that Mrs. Hilary is _not_ a widow?" + +"Not a widow!" repeated Mrs. Howard with dazed eyes. + +"I met her husband right now at the door. He was telling the children +good-by. He isn't any more dead than I am." + +"Not dead!" repeated Mrs. Howard, collapsing upon the nearest chair with +all the prostration a news bearer's heart could desire. "And she was +always talking about what he _used_ to do and _used_ to think and _used_ +to say. Why--why I can't believe it." + +"True as preachin'," declared Mrs. Pendleton, adding that you could have +knocked her down with a feather when she discovered it. + +Elsie Howard came into her mother's room just then and Mrs. Pendleton +repeated the exciting news, adding, "Gladys says they don't live +together because of incompatibility of humor!" + +Elsie smiled and remarked that it certainly was a justifiable ground for +separation and unkindly went off, leaving the subject undeveloped. + +The next day Mrs. Howard had a caller. It was the friend whose cousin +had a friend that had known Mrs. Pendleton. In the process of +conversation the caller remarked casually: + +"So Mrs. Pendleton has got her divorce at last." + +Mrs. Howard smiled vaguely and courteously. + +"Some connection of our Mrs. Pendleton? I don't think I have heard her +mention it. Dear me, isn't it dreadful how common divorce is getting to +be!" + +The guest stared. + +"You don't mean to say--why, my dear Mrs. Howard--is it _possible_ you +don't know? It _is_ your Mrs. Pendleton." + +Mrs. Howard remained looking at her friend. Once or twice her lips moved +but no words came. + +"Her husband is dead," she said at last, faintly. + +The caller laughed. "Then he must have died yesterday. Why, didn't you +know that was the reason she spent last year in Colorado?" + +"For her husband's health," gasped Mrs. Howard, clinging to the last +shred of her six months' belief in Mrs. Pendleton's widowhood. "I always +had an impression that it was there he died." + +The other woman laughed heartlessly. "Did she tell you he was dead?" + +Mrs. Howard collected her scattered faculties and tried to think. + +"No," she said at last. "Now that you speak of it, I don't believe she +ever did. But she certainly gave that impression. She seemed to be +always telling of his last illness and his last days. She never actually +mentioned the details of his death--but then, how could she--poor +thing?" + +"She couldn't, of course. That would have been asking too much." Mrs. +Howard's guest went off again into peals of unseemly laughter. + +When her caller had left, Mrs. Howard climbed up to the chilly skylight +room occupied by her daughter and dropped upon the bed, exclaiming: + +"Well, I never would have believed it of Mrs. Pendleton!" + +Elsie, who was standing before her mirror, regarded her mother in the +glass. + +"What's up. Has she eloped with Billie Barlow at last?" + +Mrs. Howard tried to say it, but became inarticulate with emotion. After +five minutes of preamble and exclamation, her daughter was in possession +of the fact. + +"That explains about her hair," was Elsie's only comment. "I am so +relieved to have it settled at last." + +"Why didn't she tell me?" wailed Mrs. Howard. + +"Oh, people don't always tell those things." + +Mrs. Howard was silent. + +As they passed the parlor door on their way down to dinner, Mrs. +Pendleton's merry laugh rang out and Elsie caught a glimpse of the +golden hair under the red lamp and the fugitive glimpse of Mr. Barlow's +bald spot. + +About two days later, as the girl came in from an afternoon's shopping, +and was on her way upstairs, her mother called to her. Something in the +sound of it attracted her attention. She hurried down the few steps and +into her mother's room. Mrs. Howard was sitting over by the window in +the fading light, with a strange look upon her face. An open telegram +lay in her lap. Elsie went up to her quickly. + +"What is it, mother?" + +Mrs. Howard handed her the telegram. + +"Your father," she said. + +Elsie Howard read the simple announcement in silence. Then she looked +up, the last trace of an old bitterness in her faint smile. + +"We will miss him," she said. + +"Elsie!" cried her mother. It was a tone the girl had never heard from +her before. Her eyes fell. + +"No, it wasn't nice to say it. I am sorry. But I can't forget what life +was with him." She raised her eyes to her mother's. "It was simply hell, +mother; you can't have forgotten. You have said it yourself so often. We +can not deny that it is a relief to know--" + +"Hush, Elsie, never let me hear you say anything like that again." + +"Forgive me, mother," said the girl with quick remorse. "I never will. I +don't think I have ever felt that death makes such things so different, +and I didn't realize how you would--look at it." + +"My child, he was your father," said Mrs. Howard in a low voice. Then +Elsie saw the tears in her mother's eyes. + + * * * * * + +"_Such_ a shock to her," Mrs. Pendleton murmured, sympathetically, to +Elsie. "I know, Miss Elsie; I can feel for her--" Elsie mechanically +thought of the last hours of Mr. Pendleton, then recalled herself with a +start. "Death always _is_ a shock," Mrs. Pendleton finished gracefully, +"even when one most expects it. You must let me know if there is +anything I can do." + +Later in the evening she communicated the astonishing news to Mrs. +Hilary, who ejaculated freely: "Only fancy!" and "How very +extraordinary!" + +"Didn't you think he had been dead a hundred years?" exclaimed Mrs. +Pendleton. + +"One never can tell in the states," responded Mrs. Hilary +conservatively. "Divorce is so common over here. It isn't the thing at +all in England, you know." + +Mrs. Pendleton stared. + +"But they were not divorced, only separated. Do you never do that--in +England?" + +"Divorced people are not received at court, you know," explained Mrs. +Hilary. + +Mrs. Pendleton's glance lingered upon the Englishwoman's immobile face +and a laugh broke into her words. + +"But when you are in Rome, you do as the Romans--is that it, Mrs. +Hilary?" But the shot glanced off harmlessly from the thick armor of +British literalness. + +"In Rome divorce doesn't exist at all," she graciously informed her +companion. "The Romish church does not permit it, you know." + +The American woman looked at the Englishwoman more in sorrow than in +anger. + +"How," she reflected, "is one to be revenged like a lady upon an +Englishwoman?" + +It was about a week later that Mrs. Pendleton, finding herself alone +with Mrs. Howard and Elsie, made the final announcement. + +"I hope you-all will be ready to dance at my wedding next month. It's +going to be very quiet, but I couldn't think of being married without +you and Miss Elsie--and Mr. Barlow, he feels just like I do about it." + + + + +WOMEN AND BARGAINS + +BY NINA R. ALLEN + + +Show me the woman who in her heart of hearts does not delight in a +bargain, and I will tell you that she is a dead woman. + +I who write this, after having triumphantly passed bargain counters of +every description, untempted by ribbons worth twenty-five cents but +selling for nineteen, insensible to dimities that had sold for nineteen +cents but were offered at six and a fourth cents a yard, and--though I +have a weakness for good cooking utensils--blind to the attractions of a +copper tea-kettle whose former price was now cut in two, at last fell a +victim to a green-and-white wicker chair. + +This is how it happened. I asked the price. Eight dollars, replied the +shop-keeper. No. It was a ten-dollar chair. But he had said eight. It +was a mistake. Nevertheless he would keep his word. I could have it for +eight. What heart of woman could resist a bargain like this? Besides, I +thought such honesty ought to be encouraged. It is but too uncommon in +this wicked world. And--well, I really wanted the chair. How could a +woman help wanting it when she found that the salesman had made an error +of two dollars? It was a ten-dollar chair, the shop-keeper repeated. I +saw the tag marked "Lax, Jxxx Mxx." There could be no doubt of it. + +I gazed and gazed, but finally went on, like the seamen of Ulysses, +deafening myself to the siren-voice. And though I had hesitated, I +might not have been lost; but returning by the same route, I saw a +neighboring druggist rush into that store bareheaded, as I now suppose +to change a bill. Need I say that I then thought he had come for my +chair? Need I say that I then and there bought that chair? + +Thus have I brought shame on a judicious parent--not my mother--who has +conscientiously labored to teach me that the way of the bargain-hunter +is hard. + +As well might man attempt to deprive the cat of its mew or the dog of +its bark as to eliminate from the female breast the love of bargains. It +has been burned in with the centuries. Eve, poor soul, doubtless never +knew the happiness of swarming with other women round a big table piled +with remnants of rumpled table-linen, mis-mated towels and soiled +dresser-scarfs, or the pleasure of carrying off the bolt of last fall's +ribbon on which another woman had her eye; nor had she the proud +satisfaction of bringing home to her unfortunate partner a shirt with a +bosom like a checker-board, that had been marked down to sixty-three +cents. But history, since her day, is not lacking in bargains of various +kinds, of which woman has had her share, though no doubt Anniversary +Sales, Sensational Mill End Sales, and Railroad Wreck Sales are +comparatively modern. + +A woman's pleasure in a good bargain is akin to the rapture engendered +in the feminine bosom by successful smuggling. It is perhaps a purer +joy. The satisfaction of acquiring something one does not need, or of +buying an article which one may have some use for in the future, simply +because it is cheap or because Mrs. X. paid seventeen cents more for the +same thing at a bargain-sale, can not be understood by a mere man. + +Once in a while some stupid masculine creature endeavors to show his +wife that she is losing the use of her money by tying it up in +embroideries for decorating cotton which is still in the fields of the +South, or laying it out in summer dress-goods when snow-storms can not +be far distant. The use of her money forsooth! What is money for except +to spend? And if she didn't buy embroideries and dimities, she would +purchase something else with it. + +So she goes on hunting bargains, or rather profiting by those that come +in her way, for generally it is not necessary to search for them. These +little snares of the merchant are only too common in this age, when +everything from cruisers to clothes-pins and pianos to prunes may often +be had at a stupendous sacrifice. + +A man usually goes to a shop where he believes that he will run little +or no risk of being deceived in the quality of the goods, even though +prices be higher there than at some other places. A woman thinks she +knows a bargain when she sees it. + +She is aware that the store-keeper has craftily spread his web of +bargains, hoping that when lured into his shop she will buy other things +not bargains. But she determines beforehand that she will not be cajoled +into purchasing anything but the particular bargain of her +desire,--unless--unless she sees something else which she really wants. +And generally, she sees something else which she really wants. + +Most women are tolerably good judges of a bargain, and therefore have +some ground for their confidence in themselves. I have seen a Christmas +bargain-table containing china and small ornaments of various wares, +completely honeycombed of its actual bargains by veteran +bargain-hunters, who left unpurchased as if by instinct goods from the +regular stock, offered at usual prices. + +Bargains are a boon to the woman of moderate means. The deepest joys of +bargain-hunting are not known to the rich, though they by no means +disdain a bargain. To them is not given the delight of saving long, and +waiting for a bargain sale, and at last possessing the thin white china +or net curtains ardently desired and still out of reach at regular +prices. But they have some compensation. They have the advantage not +only of ready money, which makes a bargain available at any time, but +also that of leisure. + +While my lady of the slender purse is still getting the children ready +for school, or exhorting Bridget not to burn the steak that will be +entrusted to her tender mercies, they can swoop down upon a bargain and +bear it away victoriously. + +A fondness for bargains is not without its dangers, for with some people +the appetite grows with what it feeds on, to the detriment of their +purses as well as of their outlook on life. To them, all the world +becomes a bargain-counter. + +A few years ago in a city which shall be nameless, two women looked into +the windows of a piano-store. In one, was an ancient instrument marked +"1796"; in the other, a beautiful modern piano labeled "1896." "Why," +said one of the gazers to her companion, indicating the latter, "I'd a +good deal rather pay the difference for this one, wouldn't you?" + +This is no wild invention of fiction, but a bald fact. So strong had the +ruling passion become in that feminine heart. + +Upon a friend of mine, the bargain habit has taken so powerful a hold +that almost any sort of a bargain appeals to her. She is the owner of a +fine parrot, yet not long ago she bought another, which had cost fifteen +dollars, but was offered to her for ten. Its feathers were bedraggled +and grimy, for it had followed its mistress about like a dog; it proved +to be so cross that at first it had to be fed from the end of a stick; +and though represented as a brilliant talker, its discourse was found to +be limited to "Wow!" and "Rah! Rah!"--but it was a bargain. + +To be sure, she didn't really need two parrots, but had she not saved +five dollars on this one? + +The most elusive kind of bargain is that set forth in alluring +advertisements as a small lot, perhaps three, four, or two dozen +articles of a kind, offered at a price unprecedentedly low. + +When you reach the store, you are generally told that they--whatever +they may be--are all gone. The other woman so often arrives earlier than +you, apparently, that finally you come to doubt their existence. + +Once in a while, if you are eminent among your fellows by some gift of +nature, as is an acquaintance of mine, you may chase down one of these +will-o'-the-wisps. + +He--yes, it is he, for what woman would own to a number ten foot even +for the sake of a bargain?--saw a fire sale advertised, with men's shoes +offered at a dollar a pair. He went to the store. Sure enough, a fire +had occurred somewhere, but not there. It was sufficiently near, +however, for a fire sale. + +A solitary box was brought out, whose edges were scorched, as by a match +passed over them; within was a pair of number ten shoes. Number tens +alone, whether one pair or more, I wot not, represented their gigantic +fire sale. And I can not say how many men had come only to be confronted +with tens, before this masculine Cinderella triumphantly filled their +capacious maws with his number ten feet, and gleefully carried off what +may have been the only bargain in the shop. + +In spite of the suspicions of some doubting Thomases who regard all +bargains as snares and delusions, it is certain that many real bargains +are offered among the numerous things advertised as such; but to profit +by them, I may add, one must have an aptitude, either natural or +acquired, for bargains. + +P.S.--I have just learned that my wicker chair would not have been very +cheap at six dollars. + + + + +FABLE + +BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON + + + The mountain and the squirrel + Had a quarrel, + And the former called the latter "Little Prig"; + Bun replied, + "You are doubtless very big; + But all sorts of things and weather + Must be taken in together, + To make up a year + And a sphere, + And I think it no disgrace + To occupy my place. + If I'm not so large as you, + You are not so small as I, + And not half so spry. + I'll not deny you make + A very pretty squirrel track; + Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; + If I can not carry forests on my back, + Neither can you crack a nut." + + + + +THE WOMAN-HATER REFORMED + +BY ROY FARRELL GREENE + + + He said to sue for maiden's heart + And hand required too much of art + In framing phrases, making pleas, + And swearing vows on bended knees + "Till death (or court decree) doth part." + + One's oh, so apt to get the cart + Before the horse, and at the start + Break down. It's torture by degrees, + He said, to sue! + + Yet when sweet Susan, coy but smart, + Safe landed him, and Cupid's dart + Went through his breast as through a cheese, + And pierced his heart with perfect ease, + He--well, I'll not the words impart + He said to Sue! + + + + +HOW MR. TERRAPIN LOST HIS PLUMAGE AND WHISTLE + +BY ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON + + +"Well," said Janey, as Aunt 'Phrony finished telling of the loss of Mr. +Terrapin's beard, "I saw a terrapin the other day, and it didn't look as +though it ever had had a beard or wattles. I thought it was real ugly." + +"Law, chil'," answered the story-teller, "you kain't tell w'at one'r +dese yer creeturs bin in de times pas' jes' by lookin' at 'em now. W'y, +de day's bin w'en ol' man Tarr'pin wuz plumb harnsum. He done bin trick' +out er mo'n jes' his by'ud an' wattles, I kin tell you." + +"Oh, please _do_ tell us!" cried Janey, and little Kit came and leaned +on her knees and looked up into her face and echoed, "'Es, please to +tell us." + +Thus besieged, Aunt 'Phrony consented to tell how the Terrapin lost his +plumage and his whistle. + +"I done tol' you," said she. "Tarr'pin wuz onct a harnsum man, an' dat +de sho'-'nuff trufe, fer he had nice, sof' fedders all over his body an' +a fine, big, spreadin' tail, an' his eyes wuz mighty bright an' his +voice wuz de cle'res' whustle you uver yearn. He wuz a gre't man in dem +days, I tell you _dat_, an' his house wuz chock full er all sorts er +fine fixin's. He had sof' furs ter set on an' long strings er shells fer +money, an clo'es all imbroider' wid dyed pokkypine quills, an' he had +spears an' bows an' arrers an' deer-hawns, an' I dunno w'at all sidesen +dat. + +"In dem days de Quail wuz a homely, no-kyount creetur, wid sca'cely any +fedders, an' a shawt, stumpy tail, an' no voice wuf speakin' uv. He wuz +po', too, an' nob'dy tuck much notuss uv him, jes' call him 'dat 'ar ol' +Bob White,' an' he go wannerin' up an' down de kyountry all by his +lonesome. + +"One day he come 'long pas' Mistah Tarr'pin's house, an' he peek in thu +de do', he did, an' w'en he see all de fine doin's, seem lak he kain't +tek his eye 'way f'um de crack. Den he seed Tarr'pin comin' down de road +home, an' he 'low ter hisse'f, he did, dat dish yer de harnsumes' man +w'at he uver seed, an' he be puffickly sassified ef he cu'd look jes' +lak dat. He git mo' an' mo' enviable uv 'im an' tuck ter hangin' 'roun' +de naberhood, peekin' an' peerin' in at Tarr'pin w'enuver he git de +chanct. Las' he say ter hisse'f dat he jes' natchully 'bleeged ter have +dem fedders an' tail an' whustle, but he ain' knowin' jes' how ter git +'em, so he g'long off ter ax de he'p uv a wise ol' Wolf whar live 'way, +'way up on de mountain an' whar wuz one'r dem cunjerers I done tol' you +'bout. Ez he went 'long he wuz fixin' up a tale ter tell Wolf, an' w'en +he git ter de kyave whar de cunjerer live he knock an' Wolf 'spon', +'Come in!' in sech a deep, growly voice dat li'l Quail felt kind er +skeery, an' he feel mo' skeery yit w'en he go hoppin' in an' see Wolf +settin' dar wid bones strowed all roun' him, an' showin' dem long, white +toofs er his ev'y time he open his mouf. But he perch hisse'f up in +front er Wolf, an' he say in a voice dat wuz right trim'ly, 'Howdy, +Uncle Wolf, howdy! I done comed all de way up yer ter ax yo' he'p, 'kase +I knows dar ain' nair' nu'rr man on dis mountain whar knows half ez much +ez w'at you does. Please, suh, tell me w'at ter do.' + +"'Bob White, you is a li'l ol' fool,' sez Wolf, sezee, 'how kin I tell +you w'at ter do w'en you ain' tol' me w'at 'tis you wants?' + +"Den Quail he git li'l mo' pearter, an' he try ter mek Wolf feel +please', so he say, 'Laws-a-mussy! Uncle Wolf, I done fergit dat, but I +reckon I do so 'kase you is dat smart I thought you mought know widout +me tellin'.' + +"'Drap dat foolishness,' sez Wolf, sezee, 'an' lemme know w'at you comed +atter.' But all de same he wan't too smart ner too ol' ter feel please' +wid de flatt'ry; show me de man whar is; lots uv 'em gits ketched by +dat, nuttin' mo' ner less," and here Aunt 'Phrony cast a scornful glance +at Nancy, who answered it by a toss of the head. + +"Well, den," she resumed, "Quail start inter de meanness he bin hatchin' +up, an' he say, sezee, 'Uncle Wolf, deys a man down dar below whar +gittin' ter be dangersome. He's rich an' goodlookin', an' a gre't chieft +an' a sho'-'nuff fighter, an' he kin do 'bout w'at he please wid tu'rr +creeturs. A man lak dat boun' ter wu'k mischief. Now, suh, ef you sesso, +'pears ter me hit be mighty good notion ter tek 'way his good looks an' +dat pleasin' voice whar he uses ter 'suade de people wid, an' gin 'em +ter some er de quiet an' peace'ble folks whar ain' all de time stickin' +derse'fs ter de front an' tryin' ter lead de people. Now yer I is, you +bin knowin' me dis good w'ile, an' you knows my numbility an' +submissity, an' ef you mek me de one ter do de deed an' den give me de +fixin's fer my trouble, I gwine feel dat I kain't ve'y well refuge 'em.' +Right dar he putt his haid on one side an' look up at Wolf mighty meek +an' innercent. + +"Wolf he say he gwine think 'bout hit, an' he tell Quail ter come back +in seven days an' git de arnser. So Quail he go hippitty-hoppin' down de +mountains, thinkin' he bin mighty smart, an' wunnerin' ef he kin stan' +hit ter wait seven mo' days befo' he rob po' ol' Tarr'pin. + +"Wolf he went off higher yit, ter de top er de mountain fer ter ax de +'pinion er seven urr wolfs mo' older an' wiser dan w'at he wuz. Dey +talked an' dey 'sputed toge'rr fer seven days an' nights. Den Wolf came +back an' Quail made has'e up ter see him ag'in. He say Quail mus' go ter +Tarr'pin's house at midnight an' do jes' lak he tell 'im to, er hit be +wusser fer him, stidder better. Quail lissen an' say he gwine do jes' +lak he tell 'im, an' wid dat he g'long off. Jes' at de stroke er +midnight, w'en de bats wuz a-flyin' an' de squinch-owls hootin' an' de +jacky-my-lanturns trabellin' up an' down, he knock on Mistah Tarr'pin's +do' an' gin out dat he wuz a trabeller whar comed a fur ways an' wuz +pow'ful tired an' hongry. + +"Tarr'pin wuz a kin' man, so he 'vited him in an' gin him sump'n ter eat +an' drink an' made him set down on de sof' furs, 'kase he felt saw'y fer +any pusson so po' an' ugly ez w'at Quail wuz. Den he say, 'You mus' be +tired atter yo' journeyin', lemme rub you a w'iles.' He rub de ugly, +rough creetur fer so long time, an' den Quail sez, sezee, 'You sut'n'y +is kin', but I ain' wanter tire you out. I is res'ed now, so please, +suh, ter lemme rub _you_ a li'l.' He rub an' he rub Tarr'pin wid one +han', an' all de time he wuz rubbin' hisse'f wid de urr. Dat-a-way he +rub all de fedders offen Tarr'pin onter his own se'f. Den he rub down +Tarr'pin's tail 'twel 'twan't nuttin' but a li'l roun', sharp-p'inted +stump, an' at de same time he wuz rubbin' his own tail wid tu'rr han' +an' puttin' Tarr'pin's fine, spreadin' tail onter his own li'l stump. +Hit wuz plumb dark, so't Mistah Tarr'pin ain' see w'at bin done, an' +sidesen dat he wuz pow'ful sleepy fum de rubbin'. Den Quail say he +'bleeged ter lay down 'kase he mus' git him a early start in de mawnin'. + +"Befo' sun-up he wuz stirrin' an' he say he mus' be gittin' 'long. +Tarr'pin go ter de do' wid him an' den Quail say, sezee, 'Mistah +Tarr'pin, I year you has a monst'ous fine whustle, I lak mighty well ter +year hit befo' I go.' + +"'W'y sut'n'y,' sez de Tarr'pin, sezee, an' wid dat he whustle long an' +loud. Quail lissen at him wid all his years, an' den he say: 'Well, dog +my cats, ef I ain' beat! Yo' voice is de prezack match er mine. + +"'You don't sesso! lemme year you whustle,' sez Tarr'pin, sezee. + +"'Dat I will,' sez Quail, 'but lemme go off li'l ways an' show you how +fer I kin mek myse'f yearn,' sezee. He sesso 'kase he'z gittin' mighty +'feerd dat Tarr'pin gwine fin' out his fedders wuz gone. So he go 'way +off inter de bushes an' whustle, an' sho' nuff, 'twuz jes' lak Mistah +Tarr'pin's voice. Den Tarr'pin try ter whustle back, but lo, beholst +you! his voice clean gone, nuttin' lef' but a li'l hiss, an' hit done +stay dat-a-way clean ontwel dis day. 'Twuz gittin' daylight, an' he look +down uv a suddint an' dar he wuz! wid nair' a smidgin' uv a fedder on +his back. He feel so bad he go inter de house an' cry ontwel his eyes +wuz so raid dat dey stayed dat-a-way uver sence. + +"Den Mis' Tarr'pin she say, 'Is you a chieft, er is you a ol' ooman? +Whyn't you go atter dat man an' gin him a lambastin' an' git back w'at +b'long to you?' He feel kind er 'shame', so he pull hisse'f toge'rr an' +go out ter see w'at he kin do. 'Fo' long he fin' out dat de cunjerers +bin at wu'k, so he know he gotter have he'p, an' he go an' git all tu'rr +tarr'pins ter he'p him. Dey went ter de ol' wolfs, de cunjerers, an' dey +ses: 'We is a slow people an' you is a swif people, but nemmine dat, we +dyar's you-all to a race, an' ef you-all wins, den you kin kill we-all; +an' ef we-all wins, den we gwine exescoot you. An' ef you ain't dast ter +tek up dis dyar', den ev'yb'dy gwine know you is cowerds.' + +"Co'se de wolfs tucken de dyar' up, an' hit wuz 'greed de race wuz ter +be over seben mountain ridges, an' dat hit wuz ter be run 'twix' one +wolf an' one tarr'pin, de res' ter look on. + +"Wen de day come, ol' Tarr'pin he tuck an' fix up dis trick; he git six +urr tarr'pins whar look jes' lak him, an' he hide one away in de bresh +on top uv each er de six mountains, an' he hide hisse'f away on top er +de sebent'. Jes' befo' Wolf git ter de top er de fus' mountain, de +tarr'pin whar wuz hidin' dar crawl outen de bresh an' git ter de top +fus' an' gin a whoop, an' went over a li'l ways an' hid in de bresh +ag'in. Wolf think dat mighty cur'ous, but he keep on, an' 'twuz jesso at +ev'y one, an' at de las' ridge co'se Tarr'pin jes' walk hisse'f outen de +bresh an' gin a gre't whoop ter let ev'yb'dy know he done won de race. + +"Den de tarr'pins mek up der min's ter kill de wolfs by fire, so dey pen +'em all in a big kyave on de mountain an' dey bring bresh an' wood an' +pile in front uv hit, a pile mos' ez high ez de mountain, an' den dey +set fire to hit, an' de wolfs howl an' de fire hit spit an' sputter an' +hiss an' crack an' roar, an' all de creeturs on de mountain set up a big +cry an' run dis-a-way an' dat ter git outen de fire; dey wuz plumb +'stracted, an' hit soun' lak all de wil' beas'es in creation wuz turnt +aloose an' tryin' w'ich kin yell de loudes'. But de tarr'pins jes' drord +inter der shells an' sot dar safe an' soun', an' watched de fire burn +an' de smoke an' de flame rollin' inter de kyave. + +"De wolfs dey howled an' dey howled _an'_ dey howled, an' de li'l ones +dey cried an' dey cried _an'_ dey cried, an' las' de ol' ones felt so +bad 'bout de chillen dat dey 'gun ter kill 'em off so's't dey ain' +suffer no mo'. Wen de tarr'pins see dat, dey wuz saw'y, an' dey mek up +der min's ter let de res' off, so dey turnt 'em aloose f'um de kyave. +But lots uv 'em had died in dar, an' dat huccome dar ain' so many wolfs +now ez dey useter be. Some wuz nearer ter de fire dan tu'rrs an' got +swinged, an' some got smoked black, an' dat w'y, ontwel dis day, some +wolfs is black an' some gray an' some white, an' some has longer, +bushier tails dan tu'rrs. Dey got so hoarse wid all dat cryin' dat der +voices bin nuttin' but a howl uver sence. + +"Quail he year w'at gwine on, an' he tucken hisse'f outen dat kyountry +fas' ez his laigs cu'd kyar' him, so Tarr'pin nuver got back de fedders +ner de whustle, an' ef you goes out inter de fiel' mos' any day you kin +see Quail gwine roun' in de stolen fedders an' year him whustle: + + _'Bob White, do right! do right! + Do right! do right, Bob White!'_ + +jes' ez sassy ez ef _he_ bin doin' right all his days, an' ez ef he bin +raised wid dat voice stidder stealin' hit way f'um ol' man Tarr'pin." + + + + +BY BAY AND SEA + +BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS + + + The little rills of poesie + That flow from Helicon + Sometimes escape into the sea + And rest there all unknown. + + While others, finding surer guides, + Fall into happier ways, + And go to swell the rising tides + That make the Poet's bays. + + + + +BILL NATIONS + +BY BILL ARP + + +You never knowd Bill, I rekun. Hes gone to Arkensaw, and I don't +know whether hes ded or alive. He was a good feller, Bill was, as +most all whisky drinkers are. Me and him both used to love it +powerful--especially Bill. We soaked it when we could git it, and when +we coudent we hankered after it amazingly. I must tell you a little +antidote on Bill, tho I dident start to tell you about that. + +We started on a little jurney one day in June, and took along a bottle +of "old rye," and there was so many springs and wells on the road that +it was mighty nigh gone before dinner. We took our snack, and Bill +drained the last drop, for he said we would soon git to Joe Paxton's, +and that Joe always kept some. + +Shore enuff Joe dident have a drop, and we concluded, as we was mighty +dry, to go on to Jim Alford's, and stay all night. We knew that Jim had +it, for he always had it. So we whipped up, and the old Bay had to +travel, for I tell you when a man wants whiskey everything has to bend +to the gittin' of it. Shore enuff Jim had some. He was mity glad to see +us, and he knowd what we wanted, for he knowd how it was hisself. So he +brought out an old-fashend glass decanter, and a shugar bowl, and a +tumbler, and a spoon, and says he, "Now, boys, jest wait a minit till +you git rested sorter, for it ain't good to take whiskey on a hot +stomack. I've jest been readin' a piece in Grady's newspaper about a +frog--the darndest frog that perhaps ever come from a tadpole. It was +found up in Kanetucky, and is as big as a peck measure. Bill, do you +take this paper and read it aloud to us. I'm a poor hand to read, and I +want to hear it. I'll be hanged if it ain't the darndest frog I ever +hearn of." He laid the paper on my knees, and I begun to read, thinkin' +it was a little short anticdote, but as I turned the paper over I found +it was mighty nigh a column. I took a side glance at Bill, and I saw the +little dry twitches a jumpin' about on his countenance. He was mighty +nigh dead for a drink. I warent so bad off myself, and I was about half +mad with him for drainin' the bottle before dinner; so I just read along +slow, and stopped two or three times to clear my throat just to consume +time. Pretty soon Bill got up and commenced walkin' about, and he would +look at the dekanter like he would give his daylights to choke the corn +juice out of it. I read along slowly. Old Alford was a listnin' and +chawin' his tobakker and spittin' out of the door. Bill come up to me, +his face red and twitchin', and leanin' over my shoulder he seed the +length of the story, and I will never forgit his pitiful tone as he +whispered, "Skip some, Bill, for heaven's sake skip some." + +My heart relented, and I did skip some, and hurried through, and we all +jined in a drink; but I'll never forgit how Bill looked when he +whispered to me to "skip some, Bill, skip some." I've got over the like +of that, boys, and I hope Bill has, too, but I don't know. I wish in my +soul that everybody had quit it, for you may talk about slavery, and +penitentiary, and chain-gangs, and the Yankees, and General Grant, and a +devil of a wife, but whiskey is the worst master that ever a man had +over him. I know how it is myself. + +But there is one good thing about drinkin'. I almost wish every man was +a reformed drunkard. No man who hasn't drank liker knows what a luxury +cold water is. I have got up in the night in cold wether after I had +been spreein' around, and gone to the well burnin' up with thirst, +feeling like the gallows, and the grave, and the infernal regions was +too good for me, and when I took up the bucket in my hands, and with my +elbows a tremblin' like I had the shakin' ager, put the water to my +lips; it was the most delicious, satisfyin', luxurius draft that ever +went down my throat. I have stood there and drank and drank until I +could drink no more, and gone back to bed thankin' God for the pure, +innocent, and coolin' beverig, and cursin' myself from my inmost soul +for ever touchin' the accursed whisky. In my torture of mind and body I +have made vows and promises, and broken 'em within a day. But if you +want to know the luxury of cold water, get drunk, and keep at it until +you get on fire, and then try a bucket full with your shirt on at the +well in the middle of the night. You won't want a gourd full--you'll +feel like the bucket ain't big enuf, and when you begin to drink an +earthquake couldn't stop you. My fathers, how good it was! I know a +hundred men who will swear to the truth of what I say: but you see its a +thing they don't like to talk about. It's too humiliatin'. + +But I dident start to talk about drinkin'. In fact, I've forgot what I +did start to tell you. My mind is sorter addled now a days, anyhow, and +I hav to jes let my tawkin' tumble out permiskuous. I'll take another +whet at it afore long, and fill up the gaps. + + + + +THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET + +BY EDWARD EVERETT HALE + +(This paper was first published in the _Galaxy_, in 1866.) + + +I see that an old chum of mine is publishing bits of confidential +Confederate History in Harper's Magazine. It would seem to be time, +then, for the pivots to be disclosed on which some of the wheelwork of +the last six years has been moving. The science of history, as I +understand it, depends on the timely disclosure of such pivots, which +are apt to be kept out of view while things are moving. + +I was in the Civil Service at Richmond. Why I was there, or what I did, +is nobody's affair. And I do not in this paper propose to tell how it +happened that I was in New York in October, 1864, on confidential +business. Enough that I was there, and that it was honest business. That +business done, as far as it could be with the resources intrusted to me, +I prepared to return home. And thereby hangs this tale, and, as it +proved, the fate of the Confederacy. + +For, of course, I wanted to take presents home to my family. Very little +question was there what these presents should be,--for I had no boys nor +brothers. The women of the Confederacy had one want, which overtopped +all others. They could make coffee out of beans; pins they had from +Columbus; straw hats they braided quite well with their own fair hands; +snuff we could get better than you could in "the old concern." But we +had no hoop-skirts,--skeletons, we used to call them. No ingenuity had +made them. No bounties had forced them. The Bat, the Greyhound, the +Deer, the Flora, the J.C. Cobb, the Varuna, and the Fore-and-Aft all +took in cargoes of them for us in England. But the Bat and the Deer and +the Flora were seized by the blockaders, the J.C. Cobb sunk at sea, the +Fore-and-Aft and the Greyhound were set fire to by their own crews, and +the Varuna (our Varuna) was never heard of. Then the State of Arkansas +offered sixteen townships of swamp land to the first manufacturer who +would exhibit five gross of a home-manufactured article. But no one ever +competed. The first attempts, indeed, were put to an end, when Schofield +crossed the Blue Lick, and destroyed the dams on Yellow Branch. The +consequence was, that people's crinolines collapsed faster than the +Confederacy did, of which that brute of a Grierson said there was never +anything of it but the outside. + +Of course, then, I put in the bottom of my new large trunk in New York, +not a "duplex elliptic," for none were then made, but a "Belmonte," of +thirty springs, for my wife. I bought, for her more common wear, a good +"Belle-Fontaine." For Sarah and Susy each I got two "Dumb-Belles." For +Aunt Eunice and Aunt Clara, maiden sisters of my wife, who lived with us +after Winchester fell the fourth time, I got the "Scotch Harebell," two +of each. For my own mother I got one "Belle of the Prairies" and one +"Invisible Combination Gossamer." I did not forget good old Mamma Chloe +and Mamma Jane. For them I got substantial cages, without names. With +these, tied in the shapes of figure eights in the bottom of my trunk, as +I said, I put in an assorted cargo of dry-goods above, and, favored by a +pass, and Major Mulford's courtesy on the flag-of-truce boat, I arrived +safely at Richmond before the autumn closed. + +I was received at home with rapture. But when, the next morning, I +opened my stores, this became rapture doubly enraptured. Words can not +tell the silent delight with which old and young, black and white, +surveyed these fairy-like structures, yet unbroken and unmended. + +Perennial summer reigned that autumn day in that reunited family. It +reigned the next day, and the next. It would have reigned till now if +the Belmontes and the other things would last as long as the +advertisements declare; and, what is more, the Confederacy would have +reigned till now, President Davis and General Lee! but for that great +misery, which all families understand, which culminated in our great +misfortune. + +I was up in the cedar closet one day, looking for an old parade cap of +mine, which, I thought, though it was my third best, might look better +than my second best, which I had worn ever since my best was lost at the +Seven Pines. I say I was standing on the lower shelf of the cedar +closet, when, as I stepped along in the darkness, my right foot caught +in a bit of wire, my left did not give way in time, and I fell, with a +small wooden hat-box in my hand, full on the floor. The corner of the +hat-box struck me just below the second frontal sinus, and I fainted +away. + +When I came to myself I was in the blue chamber; I had vinegar on a +brown paper on my forehead; the room was dark, and I found mother +sitting by me, glad enough indeed to hear my voice, and to know that I +knew her. It was some time before I fully understood what had happened. +Then she brought me a cup of tea, and I, quite refreshed, said I must go +to the office. + +"Office, my child!" said she. "Your leg is broken above the ankle; you +will not move these six weeks. Where do you suppose you are?" + +Till then I had no notion that it was five minutes since I went into +the closet. When she told me the time, five in the afternoon, I groaned +in the lowest depths. For, in my breast pocket in that innocent coat, +which I could now see lying on the window-seat, were the duplicate +despatches to Mr. Mason, for which, late the night before, I had got the +Secretary's signature. They were to go at ten that morning to +Wilmington, by the Navy Department's special messenger. I had taken them +to insure care and certainty. I had worked on them till midnight, and +they had not been signed till near one o'clock. Heavens and earth, and +here it was five o'clock! The man must be half-way to Wilmington by this +time. I sent the doctor for Lafarge, my clerk. Lafarge did his prettiest +in rushing to the telegraph. But no! A freshet on the Chowan River, or a +raid by Foster, or something, or nothing, had smashed the telegraph wire +for that night. And before that despatch ever reached Wilmington the +navy agent was in the offing in the Sea Maid. + +"But perhaps the duplicate got through?" No, breathless reader, the +duplicate did not get through. The duplicate was taken by Faucon, in the +Ino. I saw it last week in Dr. Lieber's hands, in Washington. Well, all +I know is, that if the duplicate had got through, the Confederate +government would have had in March a chance at eighty-three thousand two +hundred and eleven muskets, which, as it was, never left Belgium. So +much for my treading into that blessed piece of wire on the shelf of the +cedar closet, up stairs. + +"What was the bit of wire?" + +Well, it was not telegraph wire. If it had been, it would have broken +when it was not wanted to. Don't you know what it was? Go up in your own +cedar closet, and step about in the dark, and see what brings up round +your ankles. Julia, poor child, cried her eyes out about it. When I got +well enough to sit up, and as soon as I could talk and plan with her, +she brought down seven of these old things, antiquated Belmontes and +Simplex Elliptics, and horrors without a name, and she made a pile of +them in the bedroom, and asked me in the most penitent way what she +should do with them. + +"You can't burn them," said she; "fire won't touch them. If you bury +them in the garden, they come up at the second raking. If you give them +to the servants, they say, 'Thank-e, missus,' and throw them in the back +passage. If you give them to the poor, they throw them into the street +in front, and do not say, 'Thank-e.' Sarah sent seventeen over to the +sword factory, and the foreman swore at the boy, and told him he would +flog him within an inch of his life if he brought any more of his sauce +there; and so--and so," sobbed the poor child, "I just rolled up these +wretched things, and laid them in the cedar closet, hoping, you know, +that some day the government would want something, and would advertise +for them. You know what a good thing I made out of the bottle corks." + +In fact, she had sold our bottle corks for four thousand two hundred and +sixteen dollars of the first issue. We afterward bought two umbrellas +and a cork-screw with the money. + +Well, I did not scold Julia. It was certainly no fault of hers that I +was walking on the lower shelf of her cedar closet. I told her to make a +parcel of the things, and the first time we went to drive I hove the +whole shapeless heap into the river, without saying mass for them. + +But let no man think, or no woman, that this was the end of troubles. As +I look back on that winter, and on the spring of 1865 (I do not mean the +steel spring), it seems to me only the beginning. I got out on crutches +at last; I had the office transferred to my house, so that Lafarge and +Hepburn could work there nights, and communicate with me when I could +not go out; but mornings I hobbled up to the Department, and sat with +the Chief, and took his orders. Ah me! shall I soon forget that damp +winter morning, when we all had such hope at the office. One or two of +the army fellows looked in at the window as they ran by, and we knew +that they felt well; and though I would not ask Old Wick, as we had +nicknamed the Chief, what was in the wind, I knew the time had come, and +that the lion meant to break the net this time. I made an excuse to go +home earlier than usual; rode down to the house in the Major's +ambulance, I remember; and hopped in, to surprise Julia with the good +news, only to find that the whole house was in that quiet uproar which +shows that something bad has happened of a sudden. + +"What is it, Chloe?" said I, as the old wench rushed by me with a bucket +of water. + +"Poor Mr. George, I 'fraid he's dead, sah!" + +And there he really was,--dear handsome, bright George Schaff,--the +delight of all the nicest girls of Richmond; he lay there on Aunt +Eunice's bed on the ground floor, where they had brought him in. He was +not dead,--and he did not die. He is making cotton in Texas now. But he +looked mighty near it then. "The deep cut in his head" was the worst I +then had ever seen, and the blow confused everything. When McGregor got +round, he said it was not hopeless; but we were all turned out of the +room, and with one thing and another he got the boy out of the swoon, +and somehow it proved his head was not broken. + +No, but poor George swears to this day it were better it had been, if it +could only have been broken the right way and on the right field. For +that evening we heard that everything had gone wrong in the surprise. +There we had been waiting for one of those early fogs, and at last the +fog had come. And Jubal Early had, that morning, pushed out every man he +had, that could stand; and they lay hid for three mortal hours, within I +don't know how near the picket line at Fort Powhatan, only waiting for +the shot which John Streight's party were to fire at Wilson's Wharf, as +soon as somebody on our left centre advanced in force on the enemy's +line above Turkey Island stretching across to Nansemond. I am not in the +War Department, and I forget whether he was to advance _en barbette_ or +by _echelon_ of infantry. But he was to advance somehow, and he knew +how; and when he advanced, you see, that other man lower down was to +rush in, and as soon as Early heard him he was to surprise Powhatan, you +see; and then, if you have understood me, Grant and Butler and the whole +rig of them would have been cut off from their supplies, would have had +to fight a battle for which they were not prepared, with their right +made into a new left, and their old left unexpectedly advanced at an +oblique angle from their centre, and would not that have been the end of +them? + +Well, that never happened. And the reason it never happened was, that +poor George Schaff, with the last fatal order for this man whose name I +forget (the same who was afterward killed the day before High Bridge), +undertook to save time by cutting across behind my house, from Franklin +to Green Streets. You know how much time he saved,--they waited all day +for that order. George told me afterward that the last thing he +remembered was kissing his hand to Julia, who sat at her bedroom window. +He said he thought she might be the last woman he ever saw this side of +heaven. Just after that, it must have been, his horse--that white +Messenger colt old Williams bred--went over like a log, and poor George +was pitched fifteen feet head-foremost against a stake there was in that +lot. Julia saw the whole. She rushed out with all the women, and had +just brought him in when I got home. And that was the reason that the +great promised combination of December, 1864, never came off at all. + +I walked out in the lot, after McGregor turned me out of the chamber, to +see what they had done with the horse. There he lay, as dead as old +Messenger himself. His neck was broken. And do you think I looked to see +what had tripped him? I supposed it was one of the boys' bandy holes. It +was no such thing. The poor wretch had tangled his hind legs in one of +those infernal hoop-wires that Chloe had thrown out in the piece when I +gave her her new ones. Though I did not know it then, those fatal scraps +of rusty steel had broken the neck that day of Robert Lee's army. + +That time I made a row about it. I felt too badly to go into a passion. +But before the women went to bed,--they were all in the sitting-room +together,--I talked to them like a father. I did not swear. I had got +over that for a while, in that six weeks on my back. But I did say the +old wires were infernal things, and that the house and premises must be +made rid of them. The aunts laughed,--though I was so serious,--and +tipped a wink to the girls. The girls wanted to laugh, but were afraid +to. And then it came out that the aunts had sold their old hoops, tied +as tight as they could tie them, in a great mass of rags. They had made +a fortune by the sale,--I am sorry to say it was in other rags, but the +rags they got were new instead of old,--it was a real Aladdin bargain. +The new rags had blue backs, and were numbered, some as high as fifty +dollars. The rag-man had been in a hurry, and had not known what made +the things so heavy. I frowned at the swindle, but they said all was +fair with a peddler,--and I own I was glad the things were well out of +Richmond. But when I said I thought it was a mean trick, Lizzie and +Sarah looked demure, and asked what in the world I would have them do +with the old things. Did I expect them to walk down to the bridge +themselves with great parcels to throw into the river, as I had done by +Julia's? Of course it ended, as such things always do, by my taking the +work on my own shoulders. I told them to tie up all they had in as small +a parcel as they could, and bring them to me. + +Accordingly, the next day, I found a handsome brown paper parcel, not so +very large, considering, and strangely square, considering, which the +minxes had put together and left on my office table. They had a great +frolic over it. They had not spared red tape nor red wax. Very official +it looked, indeed, and on the left-hand corner, in Sarah's boldest and +most contorted hand, was written, "Secret service." We had a great laugh +over their success. And, indeed, I should have taken it with me the next +time I went down to the Tredegar, but that I happened to dine one +evening with young Norton of our gallant little navy, and a very curious +thing he told us. + +We were talking about the disappointment of the combined land attack. I +did not tell what upset poor Schaff's horse; indeed, I do not think +those navy men knew the details of the disappointment. O'Brien had told +me, in confidence, what I have written down probably for the first time +now. But we were speaking, in a general way, of the disappointment. +Norton finished his cigar rather thoughtfully, and then said: "Well, +fellows, it is not worth while to put in the newspapers, but what do +you suppose upset our grand naval attack, the day the Yankee gunboats +skittled down the river so handsomely?" + +"Why," said Allen, who is Norton's best-beloved friend, "they say that +you ran away from them as fast as they did from you." + +"Do they?" said Norton, grimly. "If you say that, I'll break your head +for you. Seriously, men," continued he, "that was a most extraordinary +thing. You know I was on the Ram. But why she stopped when she stopped I +knew as little as this wineglass does; and Callender himself knew no +more than I. We had not been hit. We were all right as a trivet for all +we knew, when, skree! she began blowing off steam, and we stopped dead, +and began to drift down under those batteries. Callender had to +telegraph to the little Mosquito, or whatever Walter called his boat, +and the spunky little thing ran down and got us out of the scrape. +Walter did it right well; if he had had a monitor under him he could not +have done better. Of course we all rushed to the engine-room. What in +thunder were they at there? All they knew was they could get no water +into her boiler. + +"Now, fellows, this is the end of the story. As soon as the boilers +cooled off they worked all right on those supply pumps. May I be hanged +if they had not sucked in, somehow, a long string of yarn, and cloth, +and, if you will believe me, a wire of some woman's crinoline. And that +French folly of a sham Empress cut short that day the victory of the +Confederate navy, and old Davis himself can't tell when we shall have +such a chance again!" + +Some of the men thought Norton lied. But I never was with him when he +did not tell the truth. I did not mention, however, what I had thrown +into the water the last time I had gone over to Manchester. And I +changed my mind about Sarah's "secret-service" parcel. It remained on +my table. + +That was the last dinner our old club had at the Spotswood, I believe. +The spring came on, and the plot thickened. We did our work in the +office as well as we could; I can speak for mine, and if other +people--but no matter for that! The third of April came, and the fire, +and the right wing of Grant's army. I remember I was glad then that I +had moved the office down to the house, for we were out of the way +there. Everybody had run away from the Department; and so, when the +powers that be took possession, my little sub-bureau was unmolested for +some days. I improved those days as well as I could,--burning carefully +what was to be burned, and hiding carefully what was to be hidden. One +thing that happened then belongs to this story. As I was at work on the +private bureau,--it was really a bureau, as it happened, one I had made +Aunt Eunice give up when I broke my leg,--I came, to my horror, on a +neat parcel of coast-survey maps of Georgia, Alabama, and Florida. They +were not the same Maury stole when he left the National Observatory, but +they were like them. Now I was perfectly sure that on that fatal Sunday +of the flight I had sent Lafarge for these, that the President might use +them, if necessary, in his escape. When I found them, I hopped out and +called for Julia, and asked her if she did not remember his coming for +them. "Certainly," she said, "it was the first I knew of the danger. +Lafarge came, asked for the key of the office, told me all was up, +walked in, and in a moment was gone." + +And here, on the file of April 3d, was Fafarge's line to me: + +"I got the secret-service parcel myself, and have put it in the +President's own hands. I marked it, 'Gulf coast,' as you bade me." + +What could Lafarge have given to the President? Not the soundings of +Hatteras Bar. Not the working-drawings of the first monitor. I had all +these under my hand. Could it be,--"Julia, what did we do with that +stuff of Sarah's that she marked _secret service_?" + +As I live, we had sent the girls' old hoops to the President in his +flight. + +And when the next day we read how he used them, and how Pritchard +arrested him, we thought if he had only had the right parcel he would +have found the way to Florida. + +That is really the end of this memoir. But I should not have written it, +but for something that happened just now on the piazza. You must know, +some of us wrecks are up here at the Berkeley baths. My uncle has a +place near here. Here came to-day John Sisson, whom I have not seen +since Memminger ran and took the clerks with him. Here we had before, +both the Richards brothers, the great paper men, you know, who started +the Edgerly Works in Prince George's County, just after the war began. +After dinner, Sisson and they met on the piazza. Queerly enough, they +had never seen each other before, though they had used reams of +Richards' paper in correspondence with each other, and the treasury had +used tons of it in the printing of bonds and bank-bills. Of course we +all fell to talking of old times,--old they seem now, though it is not a +year ago. "Richards," said Sisson at last, "what became of that last +order of ours for water-lined, pure linen government calendered paper of +_surete_? We never got it, and I never knew why." + +"Did you think Kilpatrick got it?" said Richards, rather gruffly. + +"None of your chaff, Richards. Just tell where the paper went, for in +the loss of that lot of paper, as it proved, the bottom dropped out of +the Treasury tub. On that paper was to have been printed our new issue +of ten per cent., convertible, you know, and secured on that up-country +cotton, which Kirby Smith had above the Big Raft. I had the printers +ready for near a month waiting for that paper. The plates were really +very handsome. I'll show you a proof when we go up stairs. Wholly new +they were, made by some Frenchman we got, who had worked for the Bank of +France. I was so anxious to have the thing well done, that I waited +three weeks for that paper, and, by Jove, I waited just too long. We +never got one of the bonds off, and that was why we had no money in +March." + +Richards threw his cigar away. I will not say he swore between his +teeth, but he twirled his chair round, brought it down on all fours, +both his elbows on his knees and his chin in both hands. + +"Mr. Sisson," said he, "if the Confederacy had lived, I would have died +before I ever told what became of that order of yours. But now I have no +secrets, I believe, and I care for nothing. I do not know now how it +happened. We knew it was an extra nice job. And we had it on an elegant +little new French Fourdrinier, which cost us more than we shall ever +pay. The pretty thing ran like oil the day before. That day, I thought +all the devils were in it. The more power we put on the more the rollers +screamed; and the less we put on, the more sulkily the jade stopped. I +tried it myself every way; back current, I tried; forward current; high +feed; low feed; I tried it on old stock, I tried it on new; and, Mr. +Sisson, I would have made better paper in a coffee-mill! We drained off +every drop of water. We washed the tubs free from size. Then my +brother, there, worked all night with the machinists, taking down the +frame and the rollers. You would not believe it, sir, but that little +bit of wire,"--and he took out of his pocket a piece of this hateful +steel, which poor I knew so well by this time,--"that little bit of wire +had passed in from some hoop-skirt, passed the pickers, passed the +screens, through all the troughs, up and down through what we call the +lacerators, and had got itself wrought in, where, if you know a +Fourdrinier machine, you may have noticed a brass ring riveted to the +cross-bar, and there this cursed little knife--for you see it was a +knife by that time--had been cutting to pieces the endless wire web +every time the machine was started. You lost your bonds, Mr. Sisson, +because some Yankee woman cheated one of my rag-men." + +On that story I came up stairs. Poor Aunt Eunice! She was the reason I +got no salary on the 1st of April. I thought I would warn other women by +writing down the story. + +That fatal present of mine, in those harmless hourglass parcels, was the +ruin of the Confederate navy, army, ordinance, and treasury; and it led +to the capture of the poor President, too. + +But, Heaven be praised, no one shall say that my office did not do its +duty! + + + + +THE LOST INVENTOR[4] + +BY WALLACE IRWIN + + + Patriotic fellow-citizens, and did you ever note + How we honor Mr. Fulton, who devised the choo-choo boat? + How we glorify our Edison, who made the world to go + By the bizzy-whizzy magic of the little dynamo? + Yet no spirit-thrilling tribute has been ever heard or seen + For the fellow who invented our Political Machine. + + Sure a fine, inventive genius, who has labored long and hard, + Till success has crowned his research, should receive a just reward. + The Machine's a great invention, that's continually clear, + Out of nothing but corruption making millions every year-- + Out of muck and filth of cities making dollars neat and clean-- + Where's the fellow who invented the Political Machine? + + Hail the complex mechanism, full of cranks and wires and wheels, + Fed by graft and loot and patronage, as noiselessly it reels. + Press the button, pull the lever, clickety-click, and set the vogue + For the latest thing in statesmen or the newest kind of rogue. + Who's the man behind the throttle? Who's the Engineer unseen? + "Ask me nothin'! Ask me nothin'!" clicks that wizard, the Machine. + +[Footnote 4: From "At the Sign of the Dollar," by Wallace Irwin. +Copyright, 1905, by Fox, Duffield & Co.] + + + + +OMAR IN THE KLONDYKE + +BY HOWARD V. SUTHERLAND + + + "This Omar seems a decent chap," said Flapjack Dick one night, + When he had read my copy through and then blown out the light. + "I ain't much stuck on poetry, because I runs to news, + But I appreciates a man that loves his glass of booze. + + "And Omar here likes a good red wine, although he's pretty mum; + On liquors, which is better yet, like whisky, gin, or rum; + Perhaps his missus won't allow him things like that to touch, + And he doesn't like to own it. Well, I don't blame Omar much. + + "Then I likes a man what's partial to the ladies, young or old, + And Omar seems to seek 'em much as me and you seek gold; + I only hope for his sake that his wife don't learn his game + Or she'll put a chain on Omar, and that would be a shame. + + "His language is some florid, but I guess it is the style + Of them writer chaps that studies and burns the midnight ile; + He tells us he's no chicken; so I guess he knows what's best, + And can hold his own with Shakespeare, Waukeen Miller, and the rest. + + "But I hope he ain't a thinkin' of a trip to this yere camp, + For our dancin' girls is ancient, and our liquor's somewhat damp + By doctorin' with water, and we ain't got wine at all, + Though I had a drop of porter--but that was back last fall. + + "And he mightn't like our manners, and he mightn't like the smell + Which is half the charm of Dawson; and he mightn't live to tell + Of the acres of wild roses that grows on every street; + And he mightn't like the winter, or he mightn't like the heat. + + "So I guess it's best for Omar for to stay right where he is, + And gallivant with Tottie, or with Flossie, or with Liz; + And fill himself with claret, and, although it ain't like beer, + I wish he'd send a bottle--just one bottle--to us here." + + + + +THE HAPPY LAND[5] + +BY FRANK ROE BATCHELDER + + + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where they get their ten per cent., + There is never need to worry + As to how to pay the rent; + There they never dodge the grocer, + And in winter never freeze, + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where the dollars grow on trees. + + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where the cash is ready-made, + No one ever thinks of going + To the almoner for aid, + For the coal-bin's never empty, + And the Gray Wolf dare not lurk + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where the check-books do the work. + + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where the watches all have fobs, + You will see no haggard fathers + Pleading, in despair, for jobs; + You will hear no hungry children + Crying, while their mothers pray, + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where there's dinner every day. + + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + It is easy to forget + All about that far-off country + Where are hunger, cold, and debt; + And the woes of other people + It is easy to dismiss + In the Land of Steady Incomes, + Where inheritance is bliss. + +[Footnote 5: Lippincott's Magazine.] + + + + +ASSAULT AND BATTERY + +BY JOSEPH G. BALDWIN + + +A trial came off, not precisely in our bailiwick, but in the +neighborhood, of great comic interest. It was really a case of a good +deal of aggravation, and the defendants, fearing the result, employed +four of the ablest lawyers practicing at the M. bar to defend them. The +offense charged was only assault and battery; but the evidence showed a +conspiracy to inflict great violence on the person of the prosecutor, +who had done nothing to provoke it, and that the attempt to effect it +was followed by severe injury to him. The prosecutor was an original. He +had been an old-field school-master, and was as conceited and pedantic a +fellow as could be found in a summer's day, even in that profession. It +was thought the policy of the defense to make as light of the case as +possible, and to cast as much ridicule on the affair as they could. J.E. +and W.M. led the defense, and, although the talents of the former were +rather adapted to grave discussion than pleasantry, he agreed to doff +his heavy armor for the lighter weapons of wit and ridicule. M. was in +his element. He was at all times and on all occasions at home when fun +was to be raised: the difficulty with him was rather to restrain than to +create mirth and laughter. The case was called and put to the jury. The +witness, one Burwell Shines, was called for the prosecution. A broad +grin was upon the faces of the counsel for the defense as he came +forward. It was increased when the clerk said, "_Burrell_ Shines, come +to the book;" and the witness, with deliberate emphasis, remarked, "My +Christian name is not _Burrell_, but _Burwell_, though I am vulgarly +denominated by the former epithet." "Well," said the clerk, "Bur-_well_ +Shines, come to the book, and be sworn." He _was_ sworn, and directed to +take the stand. He was a picture! + +He was dressed with care. His toilet was elaborate and befitting the +magnitude and dignity of the occasion, the part he was to fill, and the +high presence into which he had come. He was evidently favorably +impressed with his own personal pulchritude; yet with an air of modest +deprecation, as if he said by his manner, "After all, what _is_ beauty, +that man should be proud of it; and what are fine clothes, that the +wearers should put themselves above the unfortunate mortals who have +them not?" + +He advanced with deliberate gravity to the stand. There he stood, his +large bell-crowned hat, with nankeen-colored nap an inch long, in his +hand; which hat he carefully handed over the bar to the clerk to hold +until he should get through his testimony. He wore a blue +single-breasted coat with new brass buttons, a vest of bluish calico, +nankeen pants that struggled to make both ends meet, but failed, by a +few inches, in the legs, yet made up for it by fitting a little better +than the skin everywhere else. His head stood upon a shirt collar that +held it up by the ears, and a cravat, something smaller than a +table-cloth, bandaged his throat; his face was narrow, long, and grave, +with an indescribable air of ponderous wisdom, which, as Fox said of +Thurlow, "proved him _necessarily_ a hypocrite; as it was _impossible_ +for _any_ man to be as wise as _he_ looked." Gravity and decorum marked +every lineament of his countenance and every line of his body. All the +wit of Hudibras could not have moved a muscle of his face. His +conscience would have smitten him for a laugh almost as soon as for an +oath. His hair was roached up, and stood as erect and upright as his +body; and his voice was slow, deep, in "linked sweetness long drawn +out," and modulated according to the camp-meeting standard of elocution. +Three such men at a country frolic would have turned an old Virginia +reel into a dead march. He was one of Carlyle's earnest men. Cromwell +would have made him ensign of the Ironsides, and _ex-officio_ chaplain +at first sight. He took out his pocket-handkerchief, slowly unfolded it +from the shape in which it came from the washerwoman's, and awaited the +interrogation. As he waited, he spat on the floor, and nicely wiped it +out with his foot. The solicitor told him to tell about the difficulty +in hand. He gazed around on the court, then on the bar, then on the +jury, then on the crowd, addressing each respectively as he turned: "May +it please your honor, gentlemen of the bar, gentlemen of the jury, +audience: Before proceeding to give my testimonial observations, I must +premise that I am a member of the Methodist Episcopal, otherwise called +Wesleyan, persuasion of Christian individuals. One bright Sabbath +morning in May, the 15th day of the month, the past year, while the +birds were singing their matutinal songs from the trees, I sallied forth +from the dormitory of my seminary to enjoy the reflections so well +suited to that auspicious occasion. I had not proceeded far before my +ears were accosted with certain Bacchanalian sounds of revelry, which +proceeded from one of those haunts of vicious depravity located at the +cross-roads, near the place of my boyhood, and fashionably denominated a +doggery. No sooner had I passed beyond the precincts of this diabolical +rendezvous of rioting debauchees, than I heard behind me the sounds of +approaching footsteps, as if in pursuit. Having heard previously sundry +menaces, which had been made by these preposterous and incarnadine +individuals of hell, now on trial in prospect of condign punishment, +fulminated against the longer continuance of my corporeal salubrity, for +no better reason than that I reprobated their criminal orgies, and not +wishing my reflections to be disturbed, I hurried my steps with a +gradual accelerated motion. Hearing, however, their continued advance, +and the repeated shoutings, articulating the murderous accents, 'Kill +him! Kill Shadbelly, with his praying clothes on!' (which was a profane +designation of myself and my religious profession), and casting my head +over my left shoulder in a manner somehow reluctantly, thus, (throwing +his head to one side), and perceiving their near approximation, I +augmented my speed into what might be denominated a gentle slope, and +subsequently augmented the same into a species of dog-trot. But all +would not do. Gentlemen, the destroyer came. As I reached the fence, and +was about propelling my body over the same, felicitating myself on my +prospect of escape from my remorseless pursuers, they arrived, and James +William Jones, called by nickname, Buck Jones, that red-headed character +now at the bar of this honorable court, seized a fence rail, grasped it +in both hands, and, standing on tip-toe, hurled the same, with mighty +emphasis, against my cerebellum, which blow felled me to the earth. +Straightway, like ignoble curs upon a disabled lion, these bandit +ruffians and incarnadine assassins leaped upon me, some pelting, some +bruising, some gouging,--'everything by turns, and nothing long,' as the +poet hath it; and one of them,--which one unknown to me, having no eyes +behind,--inflicted with his teeth a grievous wound upon my person; +where, I need not specify. At length, when thus prostrate on the ground, +one of those bright ideas, common to minds of men of genius, struck me. +I forthwith sprang to my feet, drew forth my cutto, circulated the same +with much vivacity among their several and respective corporeal systems, +and every time I circulated the same I felt their iron grasp relax. As +cowardly recreants, even to their own guilty friendships, two of these +miscreants, though but slightly perforated by my cutto, fled, leaving +the other two, whom I had disabled by the vigor and energy of my +incisions, prostrate and in my power. These lustily called for quarter, +shouting out 'Enough!' or, in their barbarous dialect, being as corrupt +in language as in morals, 'Nuff!' which quarter I magnanimously extended +them, as unworthy of my farther vengeance, and fit only as subject of +penal infliction at the hands of the offended laws of their country, to +which laws I do now consign them, hoping such mercy for them as their +crimes will permit; which, in my judgment (having read the code) is not +much. This is my statement on oath, fully and truly, nothing extenuating +and naught setting down in malice; and if I have omitted anything, in +form or substance, I stand ready to supply the omission; and if I have +stated anything amiss, I will cheerfully correct the same, limiting the +averment, with appropriate modifications, provisions, and restrictions. +The learned counsel may now proceed more particularly to interrogate me +of and respecting the premises." + +After this oration, Burwell wiped the perspiration from his brow, and +the counsel for the state took him. Few questions were asked him, +however, by that official, he confining himself to a recapitulation in +simple terms, of what the witness had declared, and procuring Burwell's +assent to his translation. Long and searching was the cross-examination +by the defendant's counsel; but it elicited nothing favorable to the +defense, and nothing shaking, but much to confirm, Burwell's statement. + +After some other evidence, the examination closed, and the argument to +the jury commenced. The solicitor very briefly adverted to the leading +facts, deprecated any attempt to turn the case into ridicule, admitted +that the witness was a man of eccentricity and pedantry, but harmless +and inoffensive; a man, evidently, of conscientiousness and +respectability; that he had shown himself to be a peaceable man, but +when occasion demanded, a brave man; that there was a conspiracy to +assassinate him upon no cause except an independence, which was +honorable to him, and an attempt to execute the purpose, in pursuance of +previous threats, and severe injury by several confederates on a single +person, and this on the Sabbath, and when he was seeking to avoid them. + +W.M. rose to reply. All Screamersville turned out to hear him. William +was a great favorite,--the most popular speaker in the country,--had the +versatility of a mocking-bird, an aptitude for burlesque that would have +given him celebrity as a dramatist, and a power of acting that would +have made his fortune on the boards of a theater. A rich treat was +expected, but it didn't come. The witness had taken all the wind out of +William's sails. He had rendered burlesque impossible. The thing as +acted was more ludicrous than it could be as described. The crowd had +laughed themselves hoarse already; and even M.'s comic powers seemed, +and were felt by himself, to be humble imitations of a greater master. +For once in his life M. dragged his subject heavily along. The matter +began to grow serious,--fun failed to come when M. called it up. M. +closed between a lame argument, a timid deprecation, and some only +tolerable humor. He was followed by E., in a discursive, argumentative, +sarcastic, drag-net sort of speech, which did all that could be done +for the defense. The solicitor briefly closed, seriously and confidently +confining himself to a repetition of the matters first insisted, and +answering some of the points of the counsel. + +It was an ominous fact that a juror, before the jury retired, under +leave of the court, recalled a witness for the purpose of putting a +question to him: the question was how much the defendants were worth; +the answer was, about two thousand dollars. + +The jury shortly after returned into the court with a verdict which +"sized their pile." + + + + +THE PRAYER OF CYRUS BROWN + +BY SAM WALTER FOSS + + + "The proper way for a man to pray," + Said Deacon Lemuel Keyes, + "And the only proper attitude + Is down upon his knees." + + "No, I should say the way to pray," + Said Rev. Dr. Wise, + "Is standing straight, with outstretched arms, + And rapt and upturned eyes." + + "Oh, no; no, no," said Elder Slow, + "Such posture is too proud; + A man should pray with eyes fast closed + And head contritely bowed." + + "It seems to me his hands should be + Austerely clasped in front, + With both thumbs pointing toward the ground," + Said Rev. Dr. Blunt. + + "Las' year I fell in Hodgkin's well + Head first," said Cyrus Brown, + "With both my heels a-stickin' up, + My head a-pinting down. + + "An' I made a prayer right then an' there-- + Best prayer I ever said. + The prayingest prayer I ever prayed, + A-standing on my head." + + + + +"Well told and dramatically strong, it breathes again the spirit of +Dumas and Bulwer-Lytton."--_Portland Oregonian._ + +The Palace of Danger + +A STORY OF LA POMPADOUR + +By MABEL WAGNALLS + +_Author of "Stars of the Opera," "Miserere," etc._ + + + "There have been few groups of characters who have been used more + frequently in fiction than the members of the court of Louis XV., + and there have been few attempts to make romance of their lives + that are quite so delightful as this story. Around the heroine and + hero Miss Wagnalls has spun a tale that has the quality of holding + the reader's attention from first page to last. _It is charged with + dramatic movement and a wealth and charm of style._"--_New York + Press._ + + "A powerful novel, exciting, interesting, and well worked + out."--_San Francisco Examiner._ + + "The author has shown skill in the use of her materials."--_Boston + Globe._ + + "It is a thoroughly human story, and so well constructed that the + interest holds one to the end."--_The Review of Reviews_, New York. + + "The author gives a splendid picture of that magnificent court and + the conditions which eventually brought about the revolution. The + precarious position of every member of that court from La Pompadour + down to the meanest lackey, whose very lives were in constant + danger from the whims of the weak but self-indulgent king, is made + very real by the author."--_Globe-Democrat_, St. Louis. + +_Illustrations by John Ward Dunsmore. 12mo, Cloth. $1.50_ + +FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers +NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + + +MISERERE + +By MABEL WAGNALLS + +_Author of "Stars of the Opera," &c._ + + +A brief, but beautiful romance in which the discovery of a rich and +powerful voice leads ultimately to a climax as thrilling as the death +scene in "Romeo and Juliet." The story is told with simple grace and +directness, and is singularly pathetic and forceful. + + "It is perfectly delightful. The theme is new and + interesting."--_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + + "It is a story of tender and pathetic interest--the story of a + woman with a wonderfully beautiful voice. A dainty and fascinating + romance which will appeal to music lovers."--_Chicago News._ + + "It vibrates with musical sentiment. There is a good deal of + artistic skill displayed in its description."--_Boston Watchman._ + + "A story unique in theme, delightfully told with many delicate + touches."--_The Arena_, Boston. + +_Small 12mo, Cloth. Illustrated. 40 Cents, net_ + +FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers +NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume +VII. 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